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nevertheless-moving · 4 years ago

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Star Wars AU #20: MacenJar AU

Inspired by this meme and with permission from @simpskywalker

This au is dedicated to everyone who told me that this concept ‘gave them a headache’ or ‘psychic damage’. Especially that special someone who begged me to ‘please stop’ because ‘i hate this, i hate this so much’ and told me ‘please don’t say more words about this.’

Crack Lies Ahead, enough to consume a man. I have spoken.

“Ani. Ani. Anakin Skywalker.”

“Hmm?” The dulcet sounds of Padme calling his name dragged Anakin from sleep against his will.

“Anakin, you have to get up.”

He groaned, rolling over. “...here’s my face...I’ll...be awake in a second...just sit down...I’m awake...”

“No, Anakin you have to leave, remember. You have a 5 AM take-off scheduled, and you made me promise I would get you up early this time, come on.”

She cruelly yanked the covers away. He gasped in betrayal.

“My own wife...how could you.”

“Anakin if you’re not out of bed in the next 30 seconds the next time you beg to stay the night because ‘you can get up early, you swear’ I am kicking you out before anyone sits anywhere near anyone’s face, do you understand.”

He sat bolt upright and stumbled out of bed. “Ok, Ok, I’m up I- Padme!”

“Yes?” She asked sweetly, brushing her hair at the vanity.

“It’s 3 AM!”

“Yes I know, you were going to stop at that bakery I recommended, remember?”

“You woke me up an hour and half early so I could stop at a bakery,” he asked, disbelieving.

“Yes, Anakin, it was your idea. It was going to be your cover, in case anyone wondered what you were doing in the building.”

“That is-” before he could call it the stupidest idea he had ever heard, the memory of promising Padme that staying the night was a good idea because it would facilitate his cunning ruse (he was distracted, ok? Padme was wearing a lot of layers) came rushing back.

“-right,” he finished lamely.

Padme just hummed and began braiding in her cosmetic forcefields.

Anakin managed to stretch, complete his morning refresher run, and arrange his robes in a suitably decorous fashion by the time Padme had established the base layer of her hairstyle for the day.

A quick kiss- no goodbye, it hurt too much to say goodbyes in war - and Anakin was out the door.

He idly scratched his chin, vacantly looking out the lift and vaguely considering growing a beard. The pre-dawn view was quickly replaced by metal walls as the ride dropped below the skyline.

The transparisteel pod began to slow scarcely one third of the way down. Anakin suppressed a groan and tried to arrange his expression in Jedi-stoic manner, hoping that whoever got in the lift with him would be too intimidated by seeing a Jedi close-up to think about what they were doing in a Senatorial Apartment building at 3:15 in the morning. If they ask, I’m visiting the famous Bebbisun Bakery. Bennison? BELLASAN. I’m visiting the Bellasan Bakery.

Actually, anyone getting into the elevator this early was probably also doing the walk of shame so it’s probably fi-KRIFFING SITH SPIT THAT’S

“Master Windu!” Anakin cleared his throat, trying to lower his voice an octave. “Good- Good Morning!”

Windu’s eyes widened almost imperceptibly. “Ah. Knight Skywalker. Good morning to you as well,” he replied, stepping in the elevator, doors closing behind.

The lift descended as Anakin’s heart rate skyrocketed. This was it. Windu had to be here for Anakin. What other possible explanation could there be? WHY WASN’T HE SAYING ANYTHING?

Wait.

What other possible explanation...could...why wasn’t he saying ANYTHING?

Anakin scrutinized Master Windu out of the corner of his eye. Were those...the same robes he was wearing yesterday? They looked like the same robes but then again...pretty much all robes looked the same so this was probably a stupid way to figure things out. Fuck, it was too early for this.

Unsurprisingly, he couldn’t get a sense of the Master’s surface emotions. But his underlying aura seemed...happy? Typically Windu's serene presence had a tinge of righteous fury (something that had frightened him back when he was a child). But now that ever present vaapad edge was... softened? Anakin wracked his tired brain for a more reasonable explanation than- than the obvious but obviously impossible. He had to projecting. Right? Then again...couplings weren’t forbidden (even if Anakin couldn’t quite understand how people enjoyed just- having sex without any attachment).

The corners of Anakin’s lips twitched. The Master of the Order. Getting laid. Master Windu. In the Senatorial apartments. Mace Windu. What level had he gotten on? Above aides...diplomats probably. Should he ask? Force, this was too good- he couldn’t not ask.

Windu stared at him cooly and the knight instantly sobered. What was he thinking? Windu was obviously trying to trick him! If he said anything, Windu would turn it against him! Well, he wouldn’t be fooled so easily. Anakin spent the next several levels of descent staring forward, determined not to be the one to break the silence.

He was so focused that he didn’t notice the lift slowing prematurely again until the doors opened; an elderly Rodian hobbled in. The two Jedi moved even further apart to allow the man some space. The lift closed and newcomer glanced at the humans curiously.

“Aren’t you Jedi? What are two Jedi doing here so early?”

“Bakery,” Mace and Anakin responded in unison, heads snapping to stare at the other in surprise.

The Rodian chuckled. “Oh, that Bellasan place, right?”

“Yes,” Windu replied smoothly. “They have a famously unique caf blend.”

“And you can’t get Sweesonberry rolls anywhere else,” Anakin added quickly, not letting the opportunity to firm up his cover go to waste.

“You mammals and your carbohydrates,” The elderly reptilian clucked, bemused.

Knight Skywalker and Master Windu exchanged wary looks. The door pinged open on level 4848.

“Enjoy!” the overly entertained Rodian called out as they stepped out from the closing doors.

Anakin cleared his throat. “After you, Master Windu,” he said politely. CHECKMATE FUCKER.

But Windu just nodded serenely, striding confidently ahead, past the checkpoints and into the attached upper-crust market. After a very short walk, Anakin found himself in line behind Mace Windu at a pastry shop in the basement of his wife’s apartment building.

Anakin blearily thought that sentence through again, then subtly pinched the inside of his arm.

Nope, he was awake.

Every second that passed Anakin had to fight the steadily increasing urge to blurt out something stupid, and possibly incriminating, if not both. Just say something bland! Nothing about why they’re both here so early. Nothing about coming here before. Something casual.

“Smells good,” Anakin said.

Nailed it!

“Indeed,” Mace replied.

I’m a genius! He actually thinks I’m here for the bakery! He’s never going to suspect a thing! He was probably here for some boring pre-dawn meeting, and now I’ve got the perfect excuse to come visit Padme whenever! I can probably start sneaking off more often, I’ve just got to remember to bring back a pasty or something. And he can’t even say shit about un-Jedi like consumption!

“Skywalker-”

Oh no. Please be about the bakery. Pleasebeaboutthe

“Believe me when I tell you that I’d rather not ask-”

Oh NO. THIS ISN’T GOING TO BE ABOUT THE BAKERY. I’M AN IDIOT.

“-But did you fly here in a temple speeder?”

Cold sweat started to trickle down Anakin’s back as they shuffled forward automatically in the surprisingly long queue. Guess that’s why Padme woke me up so early.

“Knight Skywalker? Did you hear me?”

“Yes, Master Windu, sorry- I was, uh, distracted by the specials board. I, um, have my own hoverbike. Built it myself. No temple resources involved.”

“Sounds...distinctive.” Windu’s tone seemed neutral, but the way he pinched the bridge of his nose was obviously irritated. They stepped forward again. Why are so many people at this bakery so early? Guess we’re far enough down that day/night cycles don’t matter so much. Oh kriff, he’s massaging his temples now. Why is he mad about the bike? Is he going to ask where I landed it? Fuck.

Anakin swallowed the lump in his throat. “I- I thought it would be better to take personal property. Since this isn’t exactly order business.”

“That’s very responsible of you. Such...separation of personal from professional is an important skill for a Jedi.”

The trickle of sweat down his spine increased. The Chosen One discretely wiped his sweaty palms on the inside of his sleeves and prayed that his outer robe was hiding any growing pit stains.

Are we...actually talking about this? Is he going to admit to having an affair? Is he going to tell me to keep this quiet? I CAN BARELY KEEP MY OWN RELATIONSHIP SECRET! Does he know about Padme? Does he know we’re married? Is this conversation still about the bakery visit? Is HE married?

“However...such a vehicle might not be the most discrete. And discretion is also an important skill.”

Is he giving me permission to use the temple landspeeders to visit padme? Is he telling me to take the bus? WAIT! IS THIS A METAPHOR? Is he telling me to come here less? Is this still about the bakery? Did I actually check that I wasn’t still asleep or did I just dream that I checked?

“Do you understand, Knight Skywalker”

“I- uhh. I mean- well, ummm- OH look, it’s your turn to order!”

Master Windu stepped up to the counter.

“Hello, again! Same as last time?”

OH FORCE GODS HE’S A REGULAR. THIS IS IT. I’M NEVER GOING TO GET TO SEE OBI-WAN OR ASHOKA AGAIN AND PADME’S CAREER IS GOING TO BE RUINED AND

“The same blend please, but please add on one of your Sweesonberry rolls- a friend recommended them.”

...Did Mace Windu just call me his friend?

“Excellent choice! Your friend has good taste!”

Mace Windu stepped to the side and Anakin Skywalker stepped up. “...I’ll have what he had.”

A minute or two later, they were walking back to the lift, matching disposamugs and flimsibags in hand.

To try and delay the inevitable, the pale and now very sweaty young Jedi took a sip of caf. He raised both brows involuntary. “This is...really good. Holy kriff. I don’t usually drink caf for the flavor but...wow.”

“Worth the trip?” Windu asked. Anakin choked a little but successfully managed to swallow. He took another sip to avoid answering.

Windu took a bite of his roll, making a small noise of appreciation, “The pastry is also excellent. I don’t have much of a sweet tooth but this is remarkably smooth...I can’t say I’ve ever had anything quite like it.”

“Floral, right?” Anakin said, grinning into his cup.

“Yes, that’s a good description.” Ha! I told Padme I was paying attention.

They drank companionably as the lift indicator dinged closer.

“Skywalker...you’re parked on 4970, right?”

The knight nodded, too afraid to speak. The force seemed to swirl at the precipice of something.

The Master sighed. “Look- I’ve got an unregistered van- this one time only, stow the speeder, and I’ll give you a ride back. If you’re visiting the bakery in the future- please take something with a closed cab. Last thing we need is the tabloids wondering where you’re going...”

Anakin nodded again, more eagerly again. He was practically being given permission to visit Padme! That was totally worth an excruciatingly awkward flight back to the temple! He just had to chew slowly so he couldn’t blurt out anything marriage related! He was a genius!

The lift opened.

“Jar-Jar!” Anakin said, surprised and pleased. “Wow, are you also here for the bakery? This place really is popular!”

“Ani! Little Ani! Wassa you doin here?” Jar-Jar looked around wildly, then stumbled out, foot catching at the gap. Windu darted forward and effortlessly saved the Gungan before he hit the floor, while Anakin stuck his arm forward to catch the closing door.

“Bakery, Jar Jar!” he said as he stepped inside. “I’d love to talk, but we’ve actually got to get back to the temple!”

Windu struggled to untangle himself from Jar-Jar, who was being particularly unhelpful about it, even for him. Wow he’s even clingier than usual this early in the morning. It’s nice how patient Master Windu is being; I feel like even Obi-Wan can be too hard on Jar-Jar sometimes.

“Actually Skywalker, why don’t you go on ahead and stow the bike- I just remembered I meant to pick something up for Council; I won’t take long.”

“Uh. Alright,” Anakin said, catching the keys. I guess I can’t really be late if I arrive with Master Windu.

“Ossa no!” Jar-Jar exclaimed sadly. “I was justa saying to Macey lassa night thatsa I missed talkin wit little Ani!”

Anakin smiled reassuringly as the lift began to close. “Don’t worry Jar-Jar! We’ll- catch uh-HOLD ON did you say LAST NIGHT?!”

Mace’s eyes closed in resignation as the door shut on the pair, Jar-Jar still tangled around the Jedi.

AND MACE WASN’T EVEN TRYING TO PUT HIM BACK UPRIGHT ANYMORE HOLY KRIFF JUST PUT THAT TOGETHER.

Anakin stared blankly at the metal walls as they rushed past. The lone Jedi Knight took a long sip of caff, then carefully placed the pastry bag and drink on the floor. He systematically wadded up the sleeve of his robe and shoved in his mouth. He then spent the next few minutes squealing with unholy glee while literally bouncing off the walls in a manner only accessible to a force sensitive in an elevator. He was still panting slightly when the lift opened on the primary parking level.

We can double date! Padme and I can host! I can help Mace and Jar-Jar plan their wedding! We can reform the order to allow for romantic love! I can be Jar-Jar’s best man! Padme and I can have another ceremony and Obi-Wan can give me away while Mace officiates and and then we’ll all have sweesonbury cake and Jar-Jar can help teach our kids how to swim!

With those dreamy thoughts running through his mind, it was child’s work to follow the the force to the unremarkable hovervan. He was humming to himself when Master Windu opened the door.

He beamed at the older Jedi. Windu scowled in reply. Anakin smiled wider, unintimidated. He genuinely liked the Gungan, but anyone who could spend hours with Jar-Jar had to have a soft side.

“You know, Jar-Jar is a long time friend of Senator-”

“No.” Windu cut the eager words brusquely.

Anakin shrank back, a little hurt.

(Maybe a lot hurt.)

Mace glanced over at the obviously crestfallen young General and sighed before amending his words.

“Not- Not right now, alright? Maybe if you’re miraculously more discrete about this than you are about your affection for Senator Amidala, then we can talk, understood?”

Anakin nodded with absolute determination, glimmering images of fairytale weddings visible once more. Distant, perhaps- but the chance was worth any amount of tongue biting. Now that there was a real, possible future where he could have it all, now that he knew Windu had a heart somewhere under his robes- he could be patient.

He could be very patient.

Anakin calmed his grin down to a smaller, more Jedi-like smile, taking a sip of the cool but still really good caf. He channeled Obi-Wan’s most neutral diplomatic grace.

“Thank you for the ride, Master Windu. I appreciate it.”

Windu gave him an approving glance. “You’re more than welcome, Knight Skywalker.”

Feeling bold, he continued on with his best non-mocking impression of Obi-Wan.

"Have you had a chance to read the latest report on helmet redesigns? I think they might really improve peripheral vision without compromising concussive resistance.”

Mace hummed thoughtfully. “I have. I’m somewhat concerned about deploying such a radical change mid-campaign. Even better gear requires an adjustment period, and I’d rather minimize needless deaths while the troops readjust to hud flow.”

“Yes, that’s a reasonable concern, I was talking to Captain Rex-”

They spent the remainder of the flight chatting comfortably about troop safety and absentmindedly eating (or possibly stress eating in response to the prolonged absence of interpersonal conflict) the box of pastries Mace had picked up. When they arrived at the temple, they divvied up the remainder between them, quietly agreeing that there weren’t enough to share anyway.

They continued their conversation, Master Windu accompanying him to the orbital loading bay.

Obi-Wan rushed over in alarm at the sight of them approaching. “Anakin, there you are- I was starting to wonder if you’d make it. Terribly sorry Master Windu- I hope he wasn’t too much of a bother-”

“He’s not your padawan anymore, you don’t have to apologize for him. Though I do appreciate the reflex.”

“I suppose the concern isn’t completely baseless.” Anakin said, tone deliberately mildly. Mace chuckled slightly and Obi-Wan took a step back, slightly frightened by the sudden camaraderie. Anakin pretended to take a sip from his now empty disposamug to avoid fist pumping the air or cheering.

“I- Yes well- the important thing is you’re here in time for departure. What- what is that in the bag.”

Moment of Truth. Don’t freak out. Focus. Prove you can be discrete, THEN double dates, THEN Jedi Wedding Ceremony.

“Sweesonbury Roll,” Anakin answered placidly. He pretended to take another sip of caf. “Master Windu was kind enough to give me a ride from the bakery.”

“That’s- I’m sorry, what?” Anakin bit the inside of cheek to keep himself from reacting to Obi-Wan’s palpable bewilderment.

“I had to double back and get more, but we came straight here after,” Mace added helpfully, with zero hint of intentional mischief. “Oh and Skywalker- you can call me Mace if we’re not discussing temple business.”

Anakin SCREAMED (internally, of course). Outwardly, he simply bowed politely. “And you’re welcome to call me Anakin, of course.”

He deliberately avoided looking directly at Obi-Wan, his former Master’s bug-eyed reaction already pushing him to the edge, even just visible as it was out of the corner of his eye.

Windu nodded in return. “Safe travels you two. May the force with you.”

“And with you.” Anakin replied.

“May the force be with you,” Obi-Wan rushed to say, after a short delay.

Master Windu turned and exited the cargo bay doors. Anakin threw out the mug in a nearby bin, pulling out a roll and biting into it before turning to face Obi-Wan. They made eye-contact, each waiting for the other to break first. Usually that would be Anakin, but he had goals now. The Knight chewed. His Master’s eyes narrowed. The older man (who may have aged significantly in the last 5 minutes) finally broke.

“Who are you?”

Anakin just sighed, maintaining the Kenobi impression. “Come on Master, we don’t want to keep the troops waiting.” With that, he walked forward, hiding his smile as Obi-Wan followed closely at his heels.

“Since when does my apprentice visit bakeries with Mace Windu?” Obi-Wan asked, almost desperately.

“You’re making it sound like a bigger deal than it is.”

Master Kenobi sputtered as the pair opened the airlock for the short-range shuttle.

Anakin mustered up an earnest smile. “Master? Would you mind flying- I’m still eating and-”

Obi-Wan made an incoherent noise of horrified outrage before fumbling for his communicator.

“What are you doing?”

“NOTHING IS MAKING SENSE RIGHT NOW. EITHER YOU AND MACE NEED TO GO TO THE HEALING HALLS OR I DO!”

Anakin burst out laughing. “Relax Obi-Wan, I’m messing with you, holy shit. Obviously I’m flying.”

Obi-Wan slumped into the co-pilot seat, rubbing at his eyes. “Don’t do that Anakin! My nerves are stretched thin enough by the war as it is-”

“Sorry, Sorry!”

They strapped in and took off, Anakin still chuckling occasionally, Obi-Wan scowling in irritation each time.

They ascended above the towering skyline alongside the first rays of sunlight.

“So you didn’t go to a bakery with Master Windu this morning?”

“Uhh-”

#star wars #my au #macenjar au #star wars au no 20 #crack treated seriously #mace windu #macenjar #ok i KNOW this is crack but i actually worked really hard on it and im very proud #so i would appreciate if you gave it a chance before forming judgements #NOTHING GRAPHIC OH MY GOD #star wars au #crack #crackship #anakin and padme wake up in bed together and have a married couple anidala conversation and then its PG after that i SWEAR #G RATED EVEN #Mace Windu and Anakin Skywalker #becoming friends is my comfort trope ok

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lightsovermonaco · 3 years ago

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His Good Sweater: Chapter 13

Masterlist

Thanks to @acollectionofficsandshit for being my bestie and beta reading! This would have never happened without her ❤ Make sure you read Roman Profile, set in the same universe!

Word Count: 6.7k

Recommended song: "Cupid’s Chokehold/Breakfast in America” by Gym Class Heroes

"I have to go."

"Can't you stay five more minutes?"

"I wish."

"Come on, just a few more minutes to cuddle." Pierre flings back the fluffy duvet and holds out a hand. "Please?"

"I have an exam," you say with a sigh but bend to press a kiss to his upturned palm. "I can't skip."

Pierre groans and slings an arm over his eyes. "What am I supposed to do all day?"

"I don't have a sim but I have an old PlayStation you're more than welcome to use. I think I still have one or two games."

"That won't keep me busy."

"I'm sure you'll find something. Just stay out of trouble okay? I'd like to get my security deposit back when I finally move out of this hellhole."

"Okay," Pierre grumbles, sitting up to give you a quick kiss. "What time are you getting back?"

"Four. We can go out to dinner or something." You smooth a hand over his hair, smiling lightly. "Or we can go for a picnic and take a walk through Saint James Park."

"Sounds like a plan." He turns his head to kiss your palm. "I'll be counting down the minutes."

You roll your eyes but your smile contradicts the sass. "I'll be home before you know it. Love you, champion."

"I love you too, mon coeur."

He was endlessly grateful for how easily the two of you had fallen back into each other. When he had shown up at your doorstep he had expected there to be awkward pauses and minutes of tense silence, but there had been blissfully little of either. As the days bleed into each other, your relationship only gets steadier, closer and closer to what it used to be. Maybe it was because you had been the one to break the silence or maybe it was because he had thrown himself into his career into someone's bed- whatever the reason, it didn’t matter. He was simply grateful to be welcomed back into your life. He didn't plan on leaving any time soon.

Pierre allows himself a half hour of lounging in bed before forcing himself to get up and shower. Off weeks were hard; all he wanted to do was rest and recharge but he still had to follow his workout regimen and sleep schedule or he risked falling out of the habit, making it that much harder to get back in the groove come race week.

First order of business: clean the clutter you had shoved in closets and the spare room prior to his arrival the day before. Folding the three baskets of clean laundry took an hour, washing dishes another thirty minutes, and vacuuming the entire flat took twenty. Once the counters are spotless and there isn’t a stray sock to be found, he takes stock of your pantry and notes what staples you were running low on.

Two hours later he trudges back up the three flights of stairs to your apartment, arms laden with reusable bags packed to the gills with food. His legs burn and he's slightly winded from the excursion; at least that could count as his work out for the day.

He's just about to start slicing vegetables for dinner when his phone chimes with a text from his PR agent, Sylvie.

You're supposed to be in an interview now. Where are you?

"Oh shit." He scrambles for his laptop which of course was dead. He manages to plug it in at the dining room table and angle it so the background is mostly neutral, just a band poster framed behind him. He checks his hair before logging into the interview.

"There's the star," the interviewer says, far too chipper to be entirely genuine.

"Sorry, I was having connection issues." He queues up his signature sweetheart smile that gets him out of any squabbles. It works, the woman's irritation melting into a more easy expression.

"Let's just get right into it. Since we're low on time I'll jump right in, if you don't mind."

Pierre leans back. He had an inkling where this was headed. "By all means, please."

"We just saw news of your deal with Christian Horner- if you take seventh in this year's drivers championship, it looks like you're at Red Bull Racing next year. How does that feel after being publicly demoted mid-season in 2019?"

A smirk tugs at Pierre's lips. He had known this exact question was coming. He had debated how to answer it without starting waves and still remaining truthful. If there was one thing he prided himself on, it was his ability to be diplomatic when others may have let their egos get in the way.

"Obviously I'm grateful that Red Bull has recognized the hard work I've been putting in at Alpha Tauri," he starts. "I think I've been able to push the car as far as I can but I still have pace in me, personally. So moving into the Red Bull would let me loose, so to speak, and give me a chance to prove that Red Bull is where I belong."

"Right, you have had quite a spectacular season so far with a race win under your belt and a few podiums for good measure. What do you attribute that success to? Why is it so different now in an Alpha Tauri versus that coveted second Red Bull seat?"

Pierre purses his lips. The answer he was expected to give wasn't one he was willing to voice. Instead he opts for neutral. "I've been able to focus and hone my driving this season. I've found a groove that works for me and with it has come an insane amount of confidence, which is something I struggled with for awhile after going back to Torro Rosso. I think it's really just that I'm finally comfortable in the car and with my team and that makes a huge difference."

"Thank you for that," the journalist says and Pierre nods. "Shifting gears, I have a few questions about your personal life if you don't mind."

This was the part he always dreads. Questions were often prying and he had to subtly skirt around them in a way that offered a satisfying answer without giving away too much. It was an art he liked to think he had perfected over the years but still didn't enjoy.

"As long as you don't mind me staying silent if I don't want to answer."

The woman laughs, the sound sharp and grating. "Of course. Unless I can bribe you into giving me an exclusive."

"Likely not. But you ask the right questions and we'll see."

"You've been seen hanging around a certain London neighborhood lately- that wouldn't have anything to do with you and your lovely lady, would it?"

He had been waiting for that one, too. When the two of you had returned from Red Bull headquarters he had noticed the man taking pictures across the street. He hadn't said anything to you at the time because really, there was no point in getting you worked up when he had a plan to handle it.

The question played right into his hand, in fact.

Pierre sits forward, folding his hands in front of him. "Actually yes. We recently got back together and if you'll let me, I would like to make a request."

The woman leans back and checks her notes. "Well it's not quite what I had planned but please," she gives a flourish with a hand, "you have the floor."

"I know driver's personal lives are something that a lot of people are interested in and that's great. I don't mind sharing things with my fans or letting them get the inside scoop, but there's some things I would rather be left alone. My relationship is one of them. I know you all took note that she hasn't been around the past couple months and if I'm being honest, it's because of comments and press coverage that invaded her privacy. I think some people forgot she was more than just a name on a screen."

Pen poised to take notes, the interviewer prompts, "You said you had a request?"

He doesn’t stop to assess the damage he had already undoubtedly done. Sylvie was probably already on the phone doing damage control with every news outlet she could get her hands on, if her muted and black square at the bottom of the screen was an indication.

"All I'm asking is that you leave her alone. If you have questions or comments you have to make, just direct them at me. Don't follow her around asking about me. Don't comment on her posts unless you're capable of being a decent human. Just… let her live her life in peace."

Maybe he was a love sick fool, but honestly he didn't care if he lost some support from fans. If they had such strong opinions on his personal life, he would be better off without them anyway. And his team could cut him and even if he was unable to secure a seat in Formula 1 after next season, he would survive.

But if he lost you again, he would be broken. It had taken being apart from you for him to realize it and he'd be damned if he was ever disconnected from you like that again.

"That's quite the speech."

Pierre shrugs. "It was. She's the most important thing in my life, right up there with racing.” Now that he had started down the road of truth, he found it impossible to hold his tongue. “I lost her once because people couldn't be bothered to remember that their words have consequences. I won't let it happen again."

"So you see yourself with her for a long time then?" The woman's eyes glitter with the potential of getting an even juicer tidbit from him.

Pierre’s jaw sets, muscles feathering. "That's not something I'm prepared to discuss."

The woman purses her lips and tips her head to the side. There was clearly more she wanted to say. "Well, I have to thank you for what you've given me here. My boss is gonna love the exclusive. I won't push any further. Thanks for your comments, Pierre."

"Thanks for actually being respectful."

“We aren’t all monsters.” The woman shrugs. “I can’t say I haven’t had my moments but I try to be straightforward.”

“Right, yeah. I get that you have a job to do.”

“Anyway. I look forward to seeing what you can do the rest of this season. Good luck.”

He signs off and instantly anxiety washes over him. If she twisted his words he was screwed. Sylvie would be on the phone as soon as the article was printed, no doubt trying to soothe sponsors and investors. She'd give him an earful about being respectful and not poking the bear but he'd tune it out like he always did.

The sooner he got away from Red Bull, the better.

Instead of dwelling on it he busies himself with cooking. It was one of his guilty pleasures. He always requested a full kitchen when he was staying anywhere more than a few days so that if he had the chance to make a home-cooked meal, he had the option. For tonight he had selected his favorite recipe. Parmesan-Cesar chicken wasn't normally something you would ever touch with a ten foot pole but as long as he was making it, Pierre knew you'd at least give it a try.

Music blasting in the background, Pierre sings along quietly as he unpacks the rest of the ingredients and gets to work. He does a little spin between the island and the sink, rinsing the dishes and putting them right in the dishwasher as he uses them. A clean kitchen is the mark of a great chef, his mom had told him, drilling the phrase into him when he was young.

In the middle of cutting potatoes Pierre gets a call. He only has an hour until you're home so he doesn't bother stopping, just puts it on speaker and continues measuring spices.

"Hey Daniel."

"Heard you're in London," Daniel says, Australian accent thick. "And a little birdie told me you and your lady got back together."

"We did," Pierre says, a smile splitting his face. "Finally."

"Thank god, now I don't have to listen to your drunk woe-is-me rambling anymore."

Pierre laughs and sets aside the measuring spoons. "It's not that bad."

"Oh please." Pierre could practically hear the eyes rolling. "The number of times I had to send an uber to a bar after a grand prix is insane. Charles and I should be entitled to financial compensation with the amount of babysitting we've been doing."

"I can handle myself!"

"Not after a martini you can't."

He was right there. "Is there a point to this conversation?"

"Oh right- I'm actually in town today too, got some stuff to shoot for McLaren before we head to Austria for the race next week. You guys wanna come out with us tonight? We're heading to a bar or two."

"I actually had something planned-"

"She already said she's coming!" Dan's girlfriend shouts in the background.

“Well then why even ask me?”

“To be polite,” Daniel offers with a laugh. “We’re meeting at the rooftop bar at the Trafalgar hotel at seven. That give you enough time to do whatever you had planned that’s apparently more important than seeing your best mates?”

“We’ll be there,” Pierre says and hangs up. He finishes seasoning the potatoes and pops them in the oven, finally getting a chance to sit while they cook alongside the main course.

He's on his feet a few minutes later, decluttering the last bits of mess around your flat. It was clear it hadn't had a decent cleaning in quite awhile- hopefully you'd keep it tidy now that the effort had been made. The guys would tease him endlessly if they found out he was acting like a housewife.

You arrive home just as he’s setting the table. “God, it smells amazing in here.”

“Salut, mon amour.” Hands full with hot dishes, he settles for a kiss to your cheek. “I made dinner.”

“And you cleaned,” you observe. “You were a busy boy.”

“Pyry would kill me if he found out I was laying around all day. I had to do something.”

You hang your backpack on the hook behind the door and take a seat at the table. “Well remind me to thank him again when I see him. This looks delicious.”

Pierre grins over his shoulder at you. “Me or the food?”

You throw your head back and laugh, loud and unrestrained. “The food, you goof.”

Pierre quirks a brow. "Is that the honest answer?"

"Okay, maybe both."

The meal is filled with your ramblings about your exam and your new hobby- this month it was hiking. You went into detail about all the few trails in the city you’d been on as well as the more challenging ones that dotted the countryside. Pierre just nods along as you talk, already planning on staying up late to learn what he could about the topic so he could be a better conversation partner.

The pair of you work together to tidy the kitchen and put away any leftovers. “Did you bring something semi nice to wear tonight or do we have to make a quick trip to the store?”

“I’ve got some Tauri stuff I can wear. And not just team gear,” he adds when you groan. “You know that cream sweater you love? The one with the logo debossed on the front? I’ve got that.”

“Oh,” you say before biting your lip. Your eyes trail down his frame and back up like you’re imagining it on him. A tingle travels up his spine under your assessing gaze. If you kept that up, neither of you would make it out of the apartment tonight. “My favorite. Yeah, wear that. It’ll be on my floor by the end of the night.”

Pierre places his hands on your waist and grins. “Will it? And what will be on the floor from your closet, hm?”

“Your favorite dress.”

“The orange one?” He realizes half a second too late that you would never know how much he adored that dress from the gala. It had hugged your curves in all the right places and left your back exposed, which would leave him free to trace patterns on your soft skin whenever he pleased. He had missed out on worshipping you in it that night and he wouldn’t mind the opportunity to do so now.

You roll your eyes. “I can’t wear that to a bar.”

“Says who?” Pierre nuzzles his face against your neck, breathing you in. A light undercurrent of sweat from your walk home from classes mingles with the usual bright scent of you, only serving to rile him up further. Never in a million years would he have guessed that a simple scent could do him in, and yet here he was, completely wrapped up in yours.

“Says me.” You sigh, tipping your head to the side when Pierre’s nose grazes your skin.

His lips follow until he reaches your jaw before he pulls back. “What one are you wearing then?”

“Does it matter?” You cross your arms, the smirk playing on your kissable lips tempting him.

“I have to mentally prepare myself.” And if whatever you chose was too sexy, he would need to get his handsiness out of his system before the pair of you met up with Daniel and his girlfriend. The last thing he needed was to be on the front of some seedy gossip column when his plan was to ease back into it.

You smile up at him, broad and unrestrained as if knowing your answer would affect him greatly. “The cobalt blue one that makes you stutter.”

The dress in question was just as form fitting as the orange one, but shorter and decidedly more distracting. It fell mid thigh and the spaghetti straps left your shoulders exposed, which coupled with the low back displayed a downright sinful amount of skin. You had worn it at a Torro Rosso event a couple years back and he had scarcely been able to get a full sentence out around you all night.

“That one’s a close second.” He follows you to your room, leaving you to hunt through the closet while he digs through his suitcase, thankful that he had the foresight to check out of his hotel on the way back from Red Bull and bring his things here.

Because there was no way in hell he was missing a second of being by your side while he was in town. Every moment had to count when he had no idea when he would be able to sleep next to you again, not when the season was nearly over and there were two double headers between now and winter break. When so many variables stood between him and you, he had no problem prioritizing you over a routine workout or a full night’s rest.

Pierre changes into the sweater and a pair of dark skinny jeans well before you emerge from the bathroom. He doesn’t bother responding to Dan’s text that includes an address and reminds him to be on time, instead opting to scroll through his instagram feed. He likes a handful of posts from his fellow drivers, including one of Max actually smiling at something off camera.

“Well?”

Pierre’s head snaps up at the sound of your voice. The phone falls from his hand when he drags his eyes over your body, head to toe and back again.

Oh, he was so fucked.

Maybe it was selfish, but with your hair done like that, the barest brush of makeup lining your eyes and in that stunningly blue dress, he didn’t want any other man to have the privilege of laying their eyes on you.

No, you were all his.

The moment you’re within reach, Pierre places his hands on the back of your thighs, just beneath the curve of your barely covered ass. You chuckle and tap your fingers under his chin. “Close your mouth; you’ll catch flies.”

“Just so you know, if you wear that dress I can’t be held liable for my actions.” Up to and including scaring off anyone that wasn’t Daniel or his girlfriend. No one else deserved to be blessed with your radiance. Hell, he didn’t deserve it, and yet here you stood.

“We’ll see about that.”

**********

Daniel and his girlfriend had already made their way through a round of drinks by the time you arrive. It wasn’t Pierre’s fault he couldn’t keep his hands off you and wound up getting distracted on the drive over.

"Late as always," she greets, kissing your cheek. "Dan got us here fifteen minutes early because he wanted the table with the best view."

"Like our names wouldn't have gotten us the table if we asked," Pierre says, wrapping Daniel in a one-armed hug before kissing his girl’s cheek in a traditional French greeting. "The view is pretty great though."

You were already leaning on the glass partition, hands curled over the edge and undoubtedly leaving behind fingerprints on the pristine surface, completely unfazed by the fact that the other patrons were staring. You had eyes only for the London skyline and Trafalgar square lit up below. The bar with its white marble tabletops and strict dress code was absolutely not a place that you should be standing on your tiptoes for a better view, but there was no way he could condemn you when your face lit up like that.

Pierre just places a hand on the small of your back and shoots a look at the bartender currently glaring in your direction, daring the smartly dressed man to say anything. He only raises a brow and resumes filling drink orders.

"You guys know how to pick a place," you say, "I could stand here all night."

"Right," Daniel's girlfriend says, rolling her eyes at Pierre who shrugs as if to say what do you want me to do? He was powerless to deny you anything that brought you a semblance of joy; your smile was everything to him. “Love, why don’t you come tell us about uni? You’re the only one of us currently enrolled, and I’m sure the boys would love to hear about all the drama.”

You and Pierre share a secret grin. You shake your head but allow him to guide you back to the cocktail table. “Drama? I’m an engineering major. The closest thing we have to drama is someone grossly miscalculating a structural load.”

Dan shoots Pierre a mischievous grin. “I heard Stroll might be moving next year-”

Both you and Daniel’s girlfriend groan at the same time. “No racing talk when we’re around tonight,” she says. “I’ve heard enough lately.”

“What’s new in the publishing world?” You ask, leaning into Pierre when he wraps an arm around you. He only half listens to her explain the so-called “top secret” project she’s currently working on, instead opting to get drunk on you.

The light breeze filtering through the surrounding buildings ruffles your hair. You lift a hand absentmindedly to tuck it behind your ear in an attempt to keep it out of your face. Everything you do is amazing to him, snagging his attention even when he should be listening to whatever it was his friends were saying. Your gravity was simply too strong to bother resisting.

“Enough talk,” Daniel’s girlfriend says, waving a hand. “You need a drink, and I want to dance. Let’s go.” Before Pierre can protest, she’s dragging you away to the glass top bar. You throw an apologetic glance over your shoulder and Pierre just winks. He was fine watching you from afar for now.

Pierre’s gaze drops to your perky ass when you lean in to let the bartender know what you want, likely shouting to be heard over the music, your dress riding up a bit with the movement. For having such a strict dress code, this place sure did feel like an upper class club.

You hook your thumb over a shoulder, the bartender’s gaze darting to Pierre before the man nods. The only explanation you offer is a wink, followed by a note on a cocktail napkin and a beer delivered a few minutes later by a server.

This is supposed to be the best beer they have. Just try it.

Leave it to you to constantly push him outside his comfort zone. Pierre tentatively sniffs the foamy glass and shrugs before taking a sip. Not bad, but he still preferred his usual whiskey.

Setting the glass down, Pierre turns back to Daniel. “Congrats on extending your contract with McLaren by the way. Should give you a decent shot at keeping up with the big boys and landing some serious points.”

“Seems like most of us are moving around, doesn’t it? Sainz to Ferrari, Seb to Aston Martin... The only one with any sort of long term commitment is Max and now me I guess.”

“And Charles,” Pierre adds. “He’s stuck in that red monstrosity for the foreseeable future.”

Daniel laughs, taking a swig from his glass. “And you’re moving too, huh? Austria should be interesting,” Daniel remarks, watching the girls at the bar nursing their own drinks. “What with the news of your new contract breaking and all.”

“Potential contract,” Pierre corrects. “Not for sure yet.”

Daniel scoffs. “Come on mate. You won’t have any problem getting up to seventh by the end of the season. Perez is slipping and the news that his seat is in jeopardy will only help your cause.”

Pierre takes a sip of his amber beer and nods. “I’m sure Perez doesn’t appreciate it, but he’s always been a good sport.” You catch Pierre’s eye and lift your fresh flute of champagne in a mock salute. Dan’s girlfriend drags you out on the dancefloor and immediately spins you. Your laugh is nearly audible, the memory of it fresh in Pierre’s mind as he watches you.

“Mate, have you been listening to a word I’ve said?”

“I’m sorry, what?”

Daniel shakes his head and drains his drink. “I really don’t know how it took you two this long to come together. You’ve been dancing around each other for years but neither of you would admit it.”

“I could say the same about you two.”

Daniel shrugs. “Fair point. At least we got it all worked out in a weekend though.”

Pierre rolls his eyes and shoves his friend’s shoulder. “Whatever. Not all of us can have a perfect love story.”

The grin Daniel shoots Pierre is pure sunshine. “How long are you planning on waiting before you ask her to marry you?”

“What?” Pierre sputters, nearly choking on air. “Who said anything about marriage?”

“Oh come on,” Dan says, rolling his eyes. “We all know it’s coming eventually.”

Pierre would be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about it. But he wasn’t sure if it was the time for a proposal, not when you had just gotten back together. The last thing he wanted to do was go through the pain of losing you again because he was too forward.

“One day at a time,” Pierre says finally, dragging himself back to earth. “I just got her back a few days ago. I don't want to scare her off by proposing just yet.”

“Right. Well you might want to get a ring on that hand sooner rather than later,” Daniel notes, gesturing to the two men who had approached the girls. “How long are we gonna let that go on before we step in?” Neither of you paid the men any attention, instead enjoying each other’s company, but the men’s eyes roaming over your body sets Pierre on edge.

“They can handle themselves,” Pierre remarks, shifting on his feet. The weak attempt at self assurance didn’t do much to negate the red tinting his vision. “They’re fine.”

“Her sharp tongue will hold them at bay,” Daniel says, winking at his girlfriend. “For a while at least.” Props to Daniel for possessing inhuman amounts of restraint, but Pierre’s muscles were coiled and ready to interject at the first sign of trouble.

He has to pause to remind himself he doesn't own you. You could make your own decisions about who you spoke with and who you entertained as long as he was the one to take you home. He didn't care if you wanted to flirt; he knew it meant nothing and if you got a free drink out if it then so be it. But those were the rules: flirting, no touching. He'd step in if need be if someone took it too far.

But that didn't mean he had to enjoy it.

Pierre watches tight lipped as you politely chat with the man, your body language closed off and dismissive. Pierre hates that you even speak a word to him. He knows it shouldn’t bother him because he trusts you, but the stranger is a wild card. Pierre watches like a hawk as the man inches ever closer, slowly interesting himself into your personal space. He waits for you to take a step back, to grant him that silent permission to come over and insert himself in the conversation and get his hands on you, this proving you weren't on the market.

One of the men shouts something at you over the music and you leer back at him, clearly disgusted at whatever he had said. Whirling on him, you open your mouth, likely to snap out a profanity lined retort, when his hand latches onto your arm.

"Oh, fuck no."

Half a second later, Pierre is stalking across the dance floor, no thoughts other than teaching the asshole a lesson. His hands are already curled into fists, ready to swing if the man hadn't moved by the time he arrived. Tolerating someone hitting on you was one thing, but blatantly ignoring the clear dismissals and laying a hand on you? No way in hell was he standing by and letting that happen.

The resounding crack of your open hand hitting the man’s face has pride swelling in Pierre’s chest. That’s my girl. You’d solved the problem before he’d even arrived. You jab a finger in the man’s face, Daniel’s girlfriend right there with you to back you up.

“Fuck off,” you were saying as Pierre approached, “or do you need to go back to kindergarten and learn to keep your hands to yourself? Maybe next time you’ll think twice before laying a hand on a taken woman- or any woman, for that matter.”

Driving your point home, Pierre slips an arm around your waist and pulls you in until your back is flush to his chest. You crane your neck up, the tense muscles beneath his fingertips and the fury contorting your features confirming just how rattled you are.

The lines creasing your brow are soothed away when you realize who holds you. You open your mouth to say something but Pierre places a hand on your throat, thumb and forefinger framing your jaw as he cuts you off with a kiss, his eyes locked on the guy still standing off to the side holding his cheek.

You taste like the champagne you’d been sipping all night. It’s the only thought in his head outside of the jealousy licking through his veins like wildfire as he claims you then and there in front of the crowd. Mine, his heart sings. He flexes his fingers, taking advantage of your surprised gasp to slide his tongue against yours. Mine, mine, mine.

Pierre lets you be the one to break away, lips curling in a smug, kiss-swollen smile as you address the men. “In case you still don’t get the picture, I’m not interested. And neither is she.” You jerk your chin, indicating your friend and Daniel, who had indeed followed Pierre and since mirrored his possessive stance, one arm wrapped tightly around his own girlfriend.

The two men reluctantly slink away after mumbling something unintelligible but undoubtedly indecent. It had been a week and a half since he had been on track and he had plenty of pent up aggression to get out. He didn’t normally opt for using someone’s face as a punching back as a stress reliever, but rulers were made to be broken. Your hand splayed on Pierre’s chest is all that stops him from following and asking them to repeat themselves.

“Just let me hit him,” Pierre says, voice far more level and put together than he had expected it to be. “Just one punch. That’s all I would need.” His knuckles smart like he had already connected them to the man’s face.

“And let you throw away your contract? I don’t think so. The last thing you need is a blurry photo of you knocking someone’s teeth in hitting the front page of every gossip mag in the country. I’m fine, so you can cut the bravado.”

“Yeah, I hear you.”

“I was wondering how long you were gonna leave us out here,” you say, trying to regain Pierre’s attention. When it doesn’t work, you grasp his stubbled chin and force him to look at you. “I didn’t expect to be stranded for so long.”

The eye contact is what finally calms his racing thoughts. Seeing the trust reflected in your face is enough to have his grip on your waist loosening to allow you to face him. “Someone convinced me you could fend for yourself. And while it seems that’s true, I couldn’t stand it anymore.”

Your satisfied hum is swallowed by the pounding bass but Pierre feels it rumble in his chest. “Sometimes even a queen needs saving.”

Though his point had long since been proven, Pierre’s hand slides down your back to rest on your ass nonetheless. “I knew you going out looking like this would cause trouble.”

You tip your head to the side, feigning innocence as you press your hips to his. You grin, noticing the hard on that had been bothering him all night. “Looking like what?”

“Drop dead fucking gorgeous,” he says, accentuating his point by sliding his hand up your thigh and under the hem of your dress. “You know I’m tearing this off you the second we get home, right?”

“Why do you think I wore it?”

The sound that escapes him is primal and possessive. The presence of bystanders does nothing to prevent him from palming your ass and kneading the flesh. He presses his lips to your neck and mumbles between kisses, “To torture me.”

You push lightly at his chest, laughing although your eyes dart around the space in search of cameras. Old habits were hard to break. “That may have been part of my motivation. But you’ll have to wait. I haven’t seen Dan in forever and I would actually like to have a conversation with him before we sneak off somewhere.”

At least you knew he wouldn’t be able to wait until you got home to get between your legs. “Fine,” he grumbles, hands settling on your hips. “Only because I love you.”

You beam up at him. “Love you too.”

Arm still slung around your waist, Pierre nods at Daniel and follows the other couple back to the table.

After two more drinks, you and Daniel's girlfriend are singing along to the music in lilting, off key voices, simply enjoying the night air. A stray breeze catches your hair just as you turn to look at Pierre and his heart damn near leaps out of his chest.

To his credit, Pierre’s cheeks are rosy from more than just the charged glances you throw at him as the night wears on. He was on his fourth beer, far more than he usually drank these days, and the buzzing in his head was becoming increasingly hard to ignore. When he has to squint to tell the time on his watch, he figured that was enough.

"I should probably get going mate," Pierre says, turning to Daniel. "Early flight."

Daniel laughs and beacons for the girls. He kisses his girlfriend's cheek when she returns with you in tow. "Are we leaving already?" You pout, and Pierre had half a mind to stay simply have your smile make an encore appearance.

"Car coming," he murmurs, dipping his head to give you a proper kiss. God, you were stunning in that dress- he might not be able to string together words coherently, but he knew that much.

"Fine." You cross your arms for a split second to convey your feelings on the matter before wrapping your friends in a hug and saying your goodbyes.

Pierre's hand is already on your ass before you're in the uber. Get a few drinks in the boy and he let his guard down. You laugh and pull out of his embrace to usher him into the sleek black suv. If he had been coherent, he probably would have chatted with the driver about the specs of the engine or maybe even racing if he was a fan. Instead the ride is filled with stolen touches and sloppy, wet kisses to your neck.

"I can't wait till we're home," he mumbles. "You're gorgeous. How did I snag you? You're so far out of my league. No way should you be with me."

"I have a thing for guys that go fast in circles on the weekends."

"Really?" Pierre frowns. "Should I be worried?"

"No. You're the only one I have eyes for." His head is fuzzier than when you left the bar but your laugh breaks through, his stomach flipping at the melody of it. "And we are home."

Pierre blinks, realizing he does indeed stand in your kitchen, with no recollection of climbing the three flights of stairs between the street and your flat. "Oh. When did that happen?"

"After I half dragged you up the stairs." You bend over to undo the straps of your heels, giving him the perfect view. He lets out a whistle that ends in a hiccup.

"Take me to bed, lover," he says in what he thinks is a husky voice. It should be impossible for you to resist.

You roll your eyes and wrap an arm around his middle. "That's the plan. I'll take you to bed, strip you out of that sweater, and you'll be asleep before your head hits the pillow."

"Nnnnnno," he protests, hand sliding down your exposed back to settle at the base of your spine. "I wanna make the most of tonight. I leave tomorrow."

"You don't leave until noon," you point out. "Plenty of time to nurse your hangover and have fun before then, after you drink some water and get some sleep."

"But baby-"

"No buts. Do as I say or I'll send you off tomorrow without a goodbye kiss."

Even in his half drunken state he knew it was a swiss cheese lie, spotted with holes and completely stale. You'd never let him leave without a kiss goodbye because neither of you knew if it would be the last time. He was a race car driver after all, and that came with risks.

But he sighs anyways and slips off the cream sweater, letting it fall to the floor. At least one of you kept their promises.

After confirming he was settled into bed, you retreat to the bathroom. His heart aches at the absence, even though you're mere feet away with nothing but a thin door separating the two of you. He registers the sound of the tap turning on and your soft, off key humming of the last song he remembered hearing before getting out of the uber.

"Mon amour," he croons when you re-emerge in a set of silk pajamas. He reaches out his hands for you and you slide under the covers, immediately slotting your body against his. A leg hitches over his hip, tugging him closer until your middles touch.

"Mmm," he mumbles, nuzzling into your neck. "Je t'aime. Tu es l'amour de ma vie et nous vivons d'amour et d'eau fraîche."

"I have no idea what you're saying," you whisper, running your fingers through his hair. "But I like it. Feel free to keep going."

"Tes baisers sont du feu et je fond à ton toucher." He presses his lips to your neck before resuming his mumbled French. "Je pense toujours à toi. Je veux être avec toi pour toujours. Tu as mon cœur et je ne voudrais pas qu'il en soit autrement."

"I like the sound of that." You press a soft, sweet kiss to his forehead. God, that tenderness was why he loved you. That, and your personality, and your eyes, and your… everything. "Dormir, my love. I'll be here to listen to your pretty words in the morning."

The single word of his mother tongue on your lips has him smiling. "Oui, tu le feras. Parce que tu es à moi et je suis à toi."

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cosmiclatte28 · 4 years ago

Text

Coffee (Jaemin x you)

warning : fluff! flirty Jaemin!

okay sorry for once again reusing a fic, this was from my Sehun collection which I actually find cute, but I guess Jaemin can fit in here nicely too!

enjoy!

“One ice Americano,” the angelic guy with ominous aura places his order, for a second the café suddenly feels frozen. He looks and sounds cold, but once he steps into the counter in front of you, you feel the blazing sun of summer, the cute shy smile, and a gentle stare.

“One Americano, no water? 6 shots of additional espresso” you question him even when you remember his order nicely in the back of your mind.

The man across you smiles, “You remember?”

You smirk, deep inside your heart you wonder how one could forget if that’s the only thing he orders in every single visit and no one else drink a coffee like him.

You take his card, swipe the bill, and rush to brew his cold coffee.

Ever since the cold and hot man enters that door last week, you quickly fell for his demeanour aura. You learn his name when he ordered his first cup of coffee in a bubble tea shop. Though you find it weird why he bought coffee when you guys are known for bubble teas, you did not reject his orders; you even wished with all your heart he will be a regular here.

“One ice Americano coffee to go, for Jaemin oppa,” you scream out his name, and when he walks to take the bag, your hand swiftly drops in a piece of cookie inside the paper bag. He saw you and almost say you misplaced an order, but your whisper silence him.

“It’s a complementary,” You panicked, “Special for the customer who has the queuing number 100.”

You see him smile and you hear your co-worker stifling a laugh.

“Thank you,” Jaemin smiles and nods his head as he takes his order, “Thank you, see you!”

He leaves the counter with his expressionless face and your shift continues. You take more orders from other customers.

One of your co-workers nudges you when the rush hour is over, and the café is a bit empty. “What was that, did you put in your number on the cookie earlier?” the man with a beautiful eye smile teases you.

You blush when your mind teases you back with the phrase Jaemin said before he left.

“Stop it Jeno, I did not drop my number in it. Seriously, I just wanted to treat him a cookie, what’s wrong with it?” You shrug your shoulder and choose to leave to take a short break. Well, secretly you scream out of joy when you reach the storage room. Jaemin, the man who creates butterflies in your stomach is slowly recognizing you.

The next day, your shift starts and as time ticks by, your heart beats faster as you expect the presence of Jaemin. He shows up in his regular time, with his regular expressionless handsome face just that today he looks a bit tired and annoyed. You pull up your textbook-smile and try your best to control your heating face.

“Welcome, is it another usual menu, or are you interested in trying todays special menu?” You flash a concern look to him. He catches your attention and runs his eyes through the menu. He sighs and inserts his hands into his pockets.

“Do you have any recommendation for a bad day?”

You nod in a second, “Are you okay with Chocolates?” he nods, you type in a menu and he seems to agree with what you call ‘House favorite chocolate bomb bubble tea’

Jaemin hands you his card and surprises you when he asks for a table number. He brings his number and sits on the corner, the secluded chair near the windows.

You are quite surprise; he never dines inside. With a question mark in your mind, you prepare his drink and once again sneak in another slice of red velvet cake. Jeno catches you again and smiles widely while wriggling his brow, “Go, and take that order to his table. Let me take over the cashier and orders.”

You thank him and after tidying your appearance, you deliver the drink and cake to the man sitting alone and lost in his thoughts.

“Here’s your drink, and I bring you a cake to cheer you up.” You move the drink and cake from your tray to his table.

Jaemin’s cold façade melts away when he sees the red cake and your sweet attention, “Wow! Am I the 100th customer again today?” He laughs at his own words. You feel like melting into a puddle right then and there.

He takes his time enjoying the cake and reviving his mood with your special brew, you are once again busy behind the counter and running over making different orders of drinks. You can still see Jaemin from several quick glances, and that is enough to make you energized until your shift end.

After 10 minutes, the tall man in suit fleets from his chair and queue into the line in front of me. You are perplexed when he shows up again with his shy smile, “I’m here to pay the red velvet and I want the cookies you gave me yesterday. I want two of them, all packed to go.” You swipe his payment only for the cookies, the red velvet is from you.

“For someone?” You ask when you take out two fresh baked cookies and wrap them nicely inside a bag.

Jaemin shakes his head, “It’s for me, and I’m working overnight today. The cookies will be my acquaintance tonight.”

“Have strength! Good luck,” you send him off with a wave of hand.

That’s the last time you ever see him. For a good one week, you never see his nose. Jeno teases you repeatedly for waiting and hoping like a fool, but you shush him off. One week feels like a month and the nosey customers really drain your energy.

One night when Renjun is already mopping the floor and you’re already turning over the chairs, the door opens and a young man in a tidy suit surprise both of you. Jeno glances at the door sign; it clearly is turned over already, why is he here.

“Sorry, are you closed already?” the man you missed for one week questions the two of you.

You quickly leave your current work and take over the counter, “No, we can make it work for you. We still have 5 minutes to the closing hour, but feel free to take your time.”

“Usual order?” You ask while turning on the brewer and cashier, Jaemin nods then take a seat at one of the tables you haven’t turn over.

Jeno bids you goodbye after his mopping is done, and you’re left alone with Jaemin.

“Please make yourself a drink, can you sit with me for a while tonight? Drinks are on me.” he sounds hopeful.

You take his invitation, making yourself a cup of warm coffee. You carry the dark liquids and a plate of cake from the storage.

You take your seat across him; he has his coat off already and he looks breath-taking in his white shirt and loosen tie. He is busy with his cold drink, and you preoccupied your nerves with the warm caffeine. Your heart is almost bursting out of joy, here in front of you the man you crushed, you finally get the chance to sit alone with him only. You don’t care what your boss will do to you if he ever finds out about this.

Jaemin picks the fork and pokes the cake, “What is this?”

You snap from your daydream, “Oh, that’s a new menu. A rainbow cake, were going to release them tomorrow.” He raises his brow in curiosity,

“Each colour has different flavour. Please try them.” You look at him expectantly when he takes the red part into his mouth. He savours the taste, munches, pokes into the next colour, tastes them and when he reaches the 7th colour, he finally makes his comment.

“Hmm it’s cool, a nice idea! It also tastes good. I am sure buying this again.” Jaemin’s eyes brighten and he gulps down his coffee to clean his palettes.

“(y/n),” Jaemin surprises you by calling your name. You almost ask where he learned your name, but you realize you wear name tags every day. “Thank you for opening the café for me and thank you for sitting here with me tonight.”

You shake your head and hands, “No, it’s not a problem Jaemin. Besides, I can probably help you if you need someone to talk and share stories too. Only if you’re willing too,” You panicked.

Jaemin thinks for a quick second and smirk, “You’re probably right. I need to share what’s bothering my mind. Great idea!”

It sure is a great idea for Jaemin, but not for you. Jaemin has just finished his story about his breakup with his so-called girlfriend he loved dearly. You are surprised to find out he has been dating for one year and got dumped last week, because poor Jaemin caught her kissing another man in the park. She chose the other guy over him. Jaemin concludes that he’s now traumatized, and he will be staying away from falling in love for a moment. He is hurt, and he doesn’t want to fall in love now.

You made a mental note about this and continue to talk about more things. As the night deepens, the cake vanished, and the coffees finished, you learn each other’s hobbies and favourite singers.

Jaemin helps you clean up the table and turning over the chair. He drops in extra tips into the jar, then he waits for you outside as you turn off all the machines, lights, and lock the door.

“Thank you for listening to me tonight,” Jaemin bashfully looks into his shoes.

“It��s nothing big, I’m happy if you’re feeling better now. So, good night Jaemin,” you wave your hand to him when your bus arrives. He waves his hand back at you and descends into his car.

After that night, you remember his words where he did not want to fall in love yet. That morning, you ensure your heart that the feeling must stop. You ask Jeno to switch with you and take over the cashier. You choose to work in the kitchen with your other co-worker, Renjun. You’re not going to fall more into Jaemin, no you need to stop before you hurt yourself.

You tell Renjun why you’re here now and the cheerful man just pats your back, “Aw, you’re burying a feeling. It’s okay you still have me and Renjun. We’re both still free and available for blind dates.” He winks and succeeds in cheering you up.

Weeks passed by, you work in nice union with Renjun baking cakes, and preparing bobas. Your life is bright again even without seeing Jaemin, until one day Jeno barges into the kitchen and smirks, “(y/n), he’s here and he wants to see you. I can’t hold it anymore; I’ve been telling him lies that you’re not here anymore but turns out he saw you and he wants to see you!” today.

“Who?” Renjun asks

You freeze in your place, is it really the same man you’re thinking of?

Jeno sees your reaction, “You want me to shoo him off?”

You shake your head, Jeno suddenly remembers something, “Ah yeah, he told me to tell you this. He’s ready to try it again. I don’t know what he means but he told me to deliver that message to you.” Your eyes widen and you turn your body to exit the kitchen door, leaving the two men puzzled.

You quickly run your eyes through the customers inside the small café, but he’s not there. Your eyes catch him leaving the door with a glass of Americano in his right hand and a small pack of cookies on his left.

You did not meet him yet, but you know when you will see him again.

That’s right, tomorrow.

The last rays of sun lights are slowly fading off, the sky is beautifully painted orange and purple. You tighten the apron over your waist and with the textbook smile you’re taking in orders and payments once again.

“Good afternoon, what can I help you with? Maybe a special menu today? Rainbow bubble tea made especially for you.” You wink at the man in front of your cashier counter.

He chuckles, “I’d take that as a yes, if you’re going to sit with me in that table at the corner.”

You blush and punch in his order, “That means you’re having Americano today, because I am not free until my shift ends at 9.”

He glances at his watch, “Three hours is nothing compared to a week. Please add a slice of rainbow cake too! I am waiting for my date until 9 tonight.” He offers you his deadly smile, and you cannot feel your legs.

Jeno and Renjun heard everything, when Jaemin goes away to his chair; the two men take their cue to mess with you.

“What do you want for a drink? Let me prepare it for you.” Jeno takes over the cup in my hand and makes the order.

“Of course, strawberry boba, right?” Renjun winks and walks to take a slice of rainbow cake and cheesecake.

“You love my cheesecakes, right? Now, go sit with him and we will take over your part.” Renjun unties your apron and pushes you to Jaemin’s table direction.

What? you’re surprised with the sudden situation.

“Go get your love, good luck!” the two men unite and push you into his direction. Jaemin turns his head and sees you walking to him. He smiles and gets up to pull out your chair.

“Guess this is it, I don’t have to wait for three hours by myself, and my date is here already.”

fin.

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the-bjd-community-confess · 3 years ago

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More Divaz confos

Mod: Round two of these, previously: link. There’s some interesting customer reviews in this batch (5 and 8) which may be useful to readers.

1.Vic3mage "the secret bjdivaz vip group is just pictures of boxes coming in and going out". Yeah, between the bitching about d0llshe, asking people to post on doa for them, dunking on ex-customers, posting pics of random doll parts that they can't identify which doll they're supposed to go with, whining about how little money they make, whining when ppl e-mail them, whining. Yeah, other than that it's just boxes, and alpacas u can buy off amazon anyway lol.

~Anonymous

2.The butthurt users crying and guilttripping under every Divaz confession who have never been seen before elsewhere on this blog are extremely unsuspicious and unproblematic and definitely unconnected to Divaz and unbiased in every possible way

~Anonymous

3.idk shit abt bjd1vas but v1cemage i can absolutely tell you the shit about ch0o is 100% accurate, fucker's got a long, long history of being an awful little man that stretches well beyond his involvement in the doll community. between the two i'd still trust bjd1vas over ch00 ch00 the fool any day!

~Anonymous

4.The Z3st and Div4s thing is really silly and both entities were being shady but did they really have to take the DZ waiting room down with them? :( He had even made a separate thread about it......

~Anonymous

5. RE: BJD Divaz

I’ve been a customer of BJD Divaz since they first started, when it was only run by Chart3rline. I even contacted other BJD companies trying to persuade them to work with Divaz as their US representative. Most declined because they didnt like D's commission fee, but I was able to persuade a few of them.

I asked them to purchase a doll off DOA because I couldnt afford the asking price, and while they did, I found out later that instead of agreeing to purchase the seller's price, they negotiated the price to be lower. This significantly cheaper price was not passed down to me. I paid the full price +the commission fee based on that full price. I am disappointed I was not told this. This is when I stopped viewing them as a "friend" and instead, as a business. I dont hold this against them, it’s context to what Im going to say later.

I’ve stopped purchasing from D after my recent order from them. This company usually takes 3 or less months to make a doll. I’ve ordered the doll from D and it took 11 months. They let me know it arrived to them in March and that it will be shipped soon, except it only shipped on July, and only after I sent them several "reminder" emails. Before people in the comments try to put the blame on me for not sending a reminder soon, please keep in mind that I acknowledged the email in March and confirmed everything and they keep stressing to not send them emails because they are busy, I’ve emailed once every month since. I’ve since switched to ACBJD and Ive been happy with communication and the dolls ordered. I imagine ACBJD gets the same amount of emails, but they dont berate their customers if they email more than once.

I regret when people wanted a D0llshe, but not deal with him, I always recommended D. I would warn people of ordering directly and instead go through D. They assured buyers they would be handling communication and all the efforts so they wouldnt worry, except they didn’t. A person that I’ve recommended D to, who surpassed 2 years, keeps messaging me for help because D wouldnt reply to their emails. She is respectful, sweet and a timid person, not a Karen. This person, emailed D without a reply so would email a week later, only to be told that their email would be pushed down to the bottom if emailed again. No response, so she goes to FB and IG, who both tell her to email because they arent the person running orders. Finally got a response that they would get their refund, after D0llshe sends D's payment, but minus the PP fees. 3 months later and theres no refund, only a promise of them getting it later. Why is the customer missing out on fees when they have no doll? Customer emails d0llshe and he says he cant offer refund, because they didn’t order through them, which is understandable, but when all options are out for a customer, do you blame them for chargebacks?

If anyone files a chargeback, D will be blacklisting them from every company they rep, as in blacklisting you from buying direct from those companies. I urge everyone who has negative experiences with D to email the companies they rep instead of venting on confession blogs, and writing your experiences on social media. Make it count and send letters to the companies they represent, and please provide proof because they will try to make you out to be a liar.

Speaking of, they made vague posts on cl0ver singing for charging paypal fees, and that they offer guarantees as an official dealer, except when offering refunds, to non delivered products I might add, they are keeping the fees, and offered no help with d0llshe, even before they ended their dealership with them. Someone on DOA was told to not email them unless the wait time surpassed 1.5 years. They are even so petty that they post screenshots with the full name and address (dox) of the customer on purpose and then delete it out a day later as if they just realized their "mistake".

Before you try to make excuses for them about the fires, keep in mind, I am dealing with a business. The lower price negotiation with the DOA sale, I am in no way obligated to give them a pass or treat them as a friend when they made it clear that our relationship is strictly business. Their issues, are not my issues. D0lk got dragged for not shipping in time, others, including artisans, got dragged for being so late with communication and sending back refunds for cancelled orders. Why does D get to be exempt?

The supporters are the worst part of this, because of instead of being honest so D can improve, they support them for being "real". For example, look how micemage words it, to make it seem like this criticism is from one person, when there are people on addicts who didn’t have good experience. Check the bjd dealers tag here, you will see the supporters in the comments going off on any and all criticism of D. Some have sane comments, but the majority are cult like and try to identify the person venting as if it’s one person. Addicts deletes threads with criticism asking people to instead direct it to their feedback group; which lets be honest, no one is going to do because its "not that bad", and most dont want to join a new group, which is mostly dead.

This is my first and last confession on D, I’ve emailed each company they rep and told them my experience as well as contacting the 3 month wait company, with screenshots of my order, how they handled it, and the excuse they used to put blame on the company for being so late (package arrived march to D, 4 months to be shipped is on D, not the company). I’m not using company or order details because I know they are petty enough to try to identify me and publicly shame me like they have to others. This and the threat of suing is why not many people like to go public with their experience. They just keep feedback neutral, move on and never deal with again.

~Anonymous

6. Listen, I can't take you seriously in regards to BJD!vas because you're posting on a confession blog. If you were serious, you would have posted in buyer beware groups, DoA reviews or the board to get things resolved, or you would have made a complaint to the BBB. And your language makes you come off more as someone with an agenda rather than someone who is trying to warn people. If shipping is the issue, stop buying with standard shipping and pay the extra price for express shipping. I saw one of you complain that it sat with them for 20 days; that's probably because you're not the only one and they more than likely have a queue to check and then ship out. Do mistakes happen? Yes, because we're human. I've been in this hobby for a few years now and it seems like most people know you're going to have to wait, sometimes even outside the expected wait time. And shipping something as big as a doll is a timely endeavor. I shouldn't have to say that.

My point is simply to stop complaining on an confession board and either take it to the places previously mentioned. Posting here behind the anonymous mask makes you sound like a petulant child who didn't get their way right away.

~Anonymous

7.My only issue with BJD Divaz is how I never get any updates. Every email, they tell me to join their facebook page for status updates. I dont have a FB and I dont want to create one. I bought my doll through their website, updates should be posted on their website, or they could send me an email. That isnt asking much.

~Anonymous

8. Since there seems to be a lot of either "completely negative everything sucks" or "everything was sunshine and rainbows" confessions about bjd!vaz I thought I'd chime in with a neutral review.

PROS

-They were always polite and professional in their emails, and gave me very detailed answers to my questions.

-I got exactly what I ordered, so no mix ups or missing parts or anything like that.

-I think them being forthcoming about personal issues (only one person on staff, illness, the flooding isue etc.) on social media is good, since it keeps customers updated as to why there might be delays.

-If you live in the US their shipping is very reasonable.

CONS

-Reply times were varied. Sometimes it could take over a week, sometimes a couple hours.

-My order took about 10mo which, when comparing to other people who ordered through the same company around the same time, was about 3x as long as if I bought it direct and 2x as long if I had gone through a different dealer. I get some of the waiting time is out of their control, but it was kind of ridiculous.

-They dont necessarily ship the same day they send you a tracking number. I wish they said something like, "Here's your tracking number, our pickup is Xday so it should start moving after that" just so I could be aware.

All in all no major complaints. I got my doll and all that. Their lone employee is clearly overwhelmed. I hope they hire another person, if only to give the one a break.

Truthfully, I most likely won't buy through them again. I'd rather pay the international shipping and go direct, than deal with the extensive wait time. I'd still recommend them to someone looking for a very long layaway, though. I paid in full, but if I had a 12mo layaway I would've never known they weren't ready to ship my doll until month 10.

~Anonymous

#BJD #ABJD #BJD Confessions #TrueBJDConfessions #BJD Dealers

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luke-patterson-owns-my-soul · 4 years ago

Text

The Interview: Part One

Title: The Interview - A Luke x Reader One Shot

Words: 3,177

Summary: Y/N gets to interview Sunset Curve when they finally go on tour near where she lives.

TW: None

Author’s notes: Ok… the interview part is kind of inspired by a glorious evening when myself and a friend got to interview our favourite band just before a gig. I was much clumsier that Y/N and made a complete fool of myself on more than one occasion, but it seemed to have worked because they loved the interview – or so they told us.

I hope you like it. I’m not 100% with it, but didn’t want to drag it out for the hell of it. This is set in the UK, so spellings may be a little different.

(credit @nikascott)

The first time you heard Now or Never, you knew there was something special about Sunset Curve. Their lyrics and the beats of their pop rock tracks made you feel amazing and you couldn’t help but dance every time you heard them.

You spent all your time online anyway, so you decided to set up a Sunset Curve fan account. You didn’t expect much to come out of it due to bein in the UK while they were based in the US. But you religiously shared photos of the guys, wrote funny articles about them after speaking to people who’d been to their shows. Shared credited photos from gigs which soon got you respect from the fans and you began to build up a following.

You managed to fit running the account single handed, fitting it in between being at university studying for your degree in media and working part time. You’re not in it for the recognition, you just want to show your appreciation for a band you love.

Your best friend, Carrie, doesn’t get it. She doesn’t understand how you can spend so much time expelling energy on four guys you’re never going to meet, but she indulges you because you also run one for her band, Dirty Candi. Your friend and the rest of her group are insanely talented, and even though they’re not a genre you tend to listen to, you support them because that’s what friends do.

It’s been a year since you’d first heard Now or Never and since you set up the account. You’ve amassed over ten thousand followers, most of whom are also in the UK, when you get your first band member follow. Bobby Wilson, the rhythm guitarist likes a post you shared about him and promptly follows you. You get constant likes from him and sometimes the odd comment. Your followers go insane but you manage to keep calm, ish.

The second follow is Alex, the drummer. This time you do go a bit crazy, because he’s adorable and you can’t help be a little in love with him.

It takes less than a day after Alex’s follow before the bassist, Reggie to follow you and send your notifications into overdrive by commenting on a ton of posts. You scream into a pillow on your bed because it’s 2 a.m. and you don’t want to wake Carrie up.

The one follow you’re waiting for doesn’t come. Luke Patterson, the lead singer and your favourite member hasn’t joined his bandmates, and while you never expected it, you’re more than a little upset by the fact.

“Honey, he’s like a Rockstar. He’s got more important things to do than follow fan accounts online.” Carrie was right, but it still stung a bit.

“I know, but…”

“Y/N, sweetie. I adore you, but you need to let it go. I don’t want you working yourself up over this, please. Why don’t we have a girlie night, just the two of us? We’ll watch cheesy films, eat junk food, and sing bad karaoke. No phones.”

“I love you, do you know that?” I told her.

“How could you not?” She flicked her pastel pink hair over her shoulder with a laugh before going to prepare snacks while I got the lounge ready for an evening of lazing around.

:: ::

Halfway through The Greatest Showman, Carrie falls asleep, so after you cover her over with a blanket, you pull your phone out of the box she hid it in and scroll through social media.

|Hey, @SunsetCurveFansUK did you see this??

Included in the message is a link to the official Sunset Curve account. You click on it and there’s a note from the band. Announcing a UK tour. You begin to hyperventilate as you try and prevent yourself from screaming out loud, but it doesn’t work and you let out a loud squeak, waking Carrie up.

“What’s wrong? Y/N, are you okay?” She sounds worried, so you shove your phone at her, unable to speak. “Oh, wow. This is cool. Start saving because I know you’re gonna want to go to every show.”

“Yes, yes I will.” Getting to your feet, you do a crazy dance around the small lounge of your apartment, making Carrie laugh. You only realise at the last minute that she’s recording you. “Don’t you dare post that online.” You warn her.

“Too late, sweetie. It’s already on my story and I tagged the band.”

“I hate you. Worst friend ever, I think I’ll advertise for a new one.” You grumble, making her laugh as you settle down on the couch to catch up on everything you’ve missed online.

:: ::

When tickets go on sale, you’re disappointed they guys are only doing four dates in the UK, but you buy yourself a ticket to all of them. Sadly, they don’t offer up any VIP tickets because they’re running contests for fans to win them for each show. Their tour manager, Trevor – who also happens to Bobby’s dad – has messaged your account asking if you’d like the opportunity to interview the band as a thank you for all the work you’d put into promoting them.

“Oh my God, Y/N. You’re gonna meet the band, your favourite band.” Carrie is grinning, happy for you as you stare at the message on your phone screen in disbelief. “Are you going to reply?”

“I… er… what is going on?” You stare over at your best friend who’s grinning widely at you. “This is a joke, right? Someone’s pulling the ultimate prank on me, aren’t they?”

“Y/N, look. For over a year, you’ve been pimping out those guys like crazy. You’ve increased their fan base here, which has made them want to tour here, and now they’re offering you this amazing opportunity. Take it and run with it, You deserve it.”

At her words, you reopen the message and reply to Trevor, saying you’d be honoured to do the interview. Then you freak out.

:: ::

The night of the first show and you’re hovering outside the venue waiting for Trevor to come and meet you once the guys finish their sound check. You can faintly hear the strains of Now or Never, and you get goosebumps. Thankful you’re nowhere near where the queue to get in is growing longer and longer, you start to pace outside the door. It suddenly opens outwards, making you jump, and Trevor’s head appears before behind it.

“Y/N?”

“Yeah, hi.” You hold out a hand for him to shake, surprising him and yourself with how composed your voice sounds. He shakes your hand and then motions for you to enter the venue.

“Great to meet you. The guys all love your account.”

“That’s amazing to hear.” You make conversation as you follow Trevor through a maze of narrow corridors.

“Are you ready?” He asks as you approach a closed door. You can’t help but hesitate, making him look back at you in worry. “Hey, are you gonna be okay?”

“Yeah, it’s all just a bit… overwhelming.”

“Look, they’re great guys, as normal as they come. There’s no need to feel nervous around them.” He smiles at you and pushes open the door, gesturing for you to enter. “Guys, this is Y/N from the UK fan account. Go easy on her, okay?” Once you’re fully inside the room, Trevor leaves and closes the door behind you.

“Hey,” Reggie speaks first as they all stand up. You shake hands and instantly feel at ease. “We all love your account, it’s very honest.” He’s clearly referring to your review of their last album where you openly said you weren’t a huge fan of a couple of the songs. It was an integrity you were determined to have on the account. You didn’t want to be seen as the type to blow smoke up their asses just because you were a fan.

“Thanks. I love running it. It keeps me busy and out of trouble, apparently.” You laugh as you pull a fold-up tripod out of your bag and set it up to record the guys for your account. “Do you mind if I film the interview?”

“Go ahead.” Alex waves his hand for you to continue. Once you’re set up, you pull out your journal with your questions written in.

“Hey, Luke. That looks like your journal.” Bobby comments, making the lead singer smile. So far, he hasn’t said much and it’s putting you on edge. Especially as he’s the only band member who hasn’t followed your account. Maybe he hates what you’ve done online. Trying to ignore the doubt, you press record on the video and start to ask the questions.

“My final two questions were submitted as part of a contest I put out to my followers. First up from Ellie is ‘if you could give the others a tattoo, what would it be and where?” As you’d hoped, the response to this question is all four of them bursting into laughter as Reggie’s face lights up.

“I pick Luke and would definitely get my face across his back.” You laugh at his enthusiasm. “Maybe if I get him drunk enough, I could at least get my name somewhere.

“Dude, there is no way I will ever have your name, any of your names, tattooed on me.” Luke grinned at them. “I’d probably get Bobby a dick, on his forehead. Just because it would be hilarious.”

You know Bobby is known as a bit of a womaniser and you’ve heard rumblings in the fandom that he’s slept with fans after shows, but you keep quiet as the guys laugh. Bobby picks a rainbow for Alex and Alex picks a cowboy hat for Reggie.

“Okay, the final question is from Sarah and her son Henry. ‘If the zombie apocalypse hit, who would be the first to die.”

“Reggie.” Three out of the four spoke in unison making the bassist pout and you laugh.

“But, we’d try our best to save him.” Alex pipes up, smiling at his friend. “We’d at least try to stick together, but if it’s a choice between me and them, I’m picking me every time.”

“That’s me finished,” you stop the recording. “Thank you for taking the time out of your busy day to sit with me. I really appreciate it.”

All four guys reassure you it’s been their pleasure and that they enjoyed the interview which pleases you as it took you almost six weeks to think of questions that they hadn’t been asked hundreds of times before.

“I’ll leave you guys to get ready for the show. I need a drink.” You stand after packing everything away and move toward the door to leave.

“Hey, Y/N.” Reggie’s voice calling your name makes you turn back to face them. “We put together a little goodie bag of merch for you as a thank you for all the work you’ve done in helping promote us here in the UK.”

“Oh, you didn’t need to do that.” You’re blown away and speechless. “I do it because I enjoy it.”

“And it keeps you out of trouble?” Bobby winks at you. Unsure how to react, you smile a little, positive it looks more like a grimace. You take the overflowing bag and clutch it in your hand.

“Hey, we need a selfie.” Alex says, pulling his phone out of his pocket. You suddenly find yourself between him and Luke, Alex’s arm slung over your shoulder and Luke’s hand resting on your waist. All you can feel is the head from his hand as you look at the camera Alex is holding out in front of you. Once he’s done, you take a deep breath, inhaling the aroma of Luke before stepping away.

Another round of thank yous and you leave the room and close the door behind you. Then realise you have no idea which way to go.

“Hey, you okay?” Luke’s voice makes you jump.

“Yeah, I just can’t remember the way out.” You’re embarrassed to admit, but you have to meet up with Carrie in the queue. She’d finally agreed to come to at least one of the shows with you, but only one.

“It’s a bit of a maze, here’ I’ll show you the way.” Luke falls into step beside you, his shoulder brushing yours in the narrow space.

“Thanks, you don’t need to do that.”

“It’s no problem, I’m on a drink run for the guys anyway, and the bar’s this way.” He shrugged, his shoulder once again brushing against yours.

“Well, thanks again. And for doing the interview, I hope it wasn’t too much of a chore.”

“Nah, it was fun. I’ll admit, I wasn’t sure what it was gonna be like at first, but you had some great questions.”

Silence fell and you start to feel awkward walking through the venue with a guy you’d crushed on from afar for well over a year. Eventually, the maze of corridors opened out into an area you recognised.

“Well, I guess I’ll see you later, at the show I mean.” You feel like a complete idiot.

“Yeah, it should be a great show.” You give Luke a small wave and make your way towards the door where a member of the security gets ready to let you out.

“Y/N?” Luke calls out. You turn to look at him. “Do you want a drink?”

Stunned, you kind of freeze to the spot you’re standing in. After a moment, Luke mumbles something and turns to walk away.

“That would be great.” You call out, knowing Carrie would kill you if you said no. You return to Luke’s side and follow him into the space that would soon be filled with fans. The stage was set up with their instruments and you can’t help the shiver of excitement that goes through you.

“Are you cold?” Luke asks.

“No, I just had a chill.” Before you finish speaking, he’s pulled off the flannel shirt he’s wearing and handing it to you. “Honestly, there’s no need. I’ll be fine.”

“Y/N, take the damn shirt. It’s cold in here and you’re in a tank top.” He insists with a laugh.

“God, you’re pushy.” You snap at him playfully as you take the shirt and slide it on. It’s still warm from him wearing it and you resist the urge to bury your nose in it.

“What do you want to drink?”

“Just a beer is fine.” You pull some money out of your purse, but he waves it away as he hands over a card to the bartender.

As you take a sip of cold beer, your phone chirps with Carrie’s ringtone.

“Sorry, I have to take this.” You pull your phone out as Luke asks the bar tender to take three of the bottles to the rest of the band. “Hello?”

“Where are you? The doors are opening soon.” Carrie’s voice is almost drown out by the noise around her.

“I’m just finishing up, I’ll be out soon.”

“Was Luke as dreamy as-”

“I’ll be out as soon as I can. Bye.” You cut her off, worried Luke will hear her question and shove your phone away again. “Sorry, my friend’s in the queue. I really should get out there.”

“Oh, yeah. Sure.” You go to put your almost full bottle of beer on the bar. “Take that with you. You can’t waste good beer.” You laugh and slide the bottle into the sleeve of Luke’s shirt to hide it from the security staff as the two of you walk over to the door. “Hey, it was nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, you too.” The two of you lock eyes for a few minutes before you remember Carrie. “I… I better go. Break a leg tonight.”

Before he can answer, you’re outside with the door slamming closed behind you. You take a deep breath to try and calm your racing heart as you walk around the building to find Carrie.

:: ::

“Where did that come from?” She asks, pointing to the shirt, as soon as you join her. You look around to make sure no one’s listening. You don’t want to be overheard.

“It’s Luke’s.” You whisper, laughing as her eyes widen in shock. Even more when you pull the bottle of beer out from the sleeve and take a long drink from it.

“When we get inside, you are telling me everything. But especially how you came out of an interview with the lead singer’s clothes on.”

Before you can answer, a cheer goes up near the front of the queue as the doors open and security begin letting the fans in.

Slowly, as tickets are checked, the queue moves forward and you’re finally at the front. The security guy recognises you and gives you a smile as he lets you and Carrie inside.

The first stop is the cloakroom so you can check in your bag and the goodie bag the guys gave you after the interview. Then Carrie drags you to the bar and starts pumping you for answers.

“How did the interview go? What took so long? Why did you come out wearing Luke’s shirt and carrying a beer?”

“Woah, slow down.” You order a couple of shots for the two of you from the bartender who served Luke earlier. He waves away your money, explaining you’ve been added to the bar tab the guys have running to your surprise and Carrie’s giggles. “The interview went really well. The guys responded so well to my questions and I took a selfie with them. Oh, shit. The photo’s on Alex’s phone.”

“Oh, really?” Carrie raises an eyebrow at you.

“Do you want me to tell you or not?” You move away from the bar so no one can overhear you. When you’re certain you have some privacy, you fill her in on what happened after the interview ended.

“Holy shit, Y/N/ I think you’re in with a chance there.”

“Carrie, no. He’s a bonafide Rockstar, who lives like thousands of miles away. I’m a student from London. Don’t get carried away. He was just being friendly.”

“Oh, sure. Because all rockstars offer their shirts to fans and buy them a beer.” She looks at you, a weird look in her eye as she orders another round of drinks. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Trevor the tour manager walking toward you.

“Hey, Y/N. I was asked to give you this.” He hands you a slip of paper before melting away through the crowd toward the stage.

“What is it?” Carrie askes as you unfold it. Written in the hardest writing you’ve ever had to decipher is,

Meet me backstage after the show? Luke.

You don’t know what to think, but Carrie crows like a damn rooster, attracting attention from other fans around you.

“Just being friendly, huh?” She hip bumps you, “I’m coming with you to the other shows, I need to see this unfold with my very own eyes.

Read Part Two here

#jatp #jatp fic #luke patterson #Luke x Reader #one shot #fanfiction #orginal character #bobby #reggie #ales #carrie #Mich writes fic

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ridiculousn3sswrites · 4 years ago

Text

Closer

*Thomas Jefferson x Reader

*Summary: Reader is very into one of her housemates. After a couple house parties, she finds out he’s very into her.

*Warnings: Swearing, drinking, (mentions of) weed smoking, jealousy, insecurity, smut, grinding, hickies, tiddy sucking, fingering, vaginal sex, (my attempt at) dirty talk, a lot of consent check-ins, morning after awkwardness

*A/N: I’VE FINALLY BEEN DRIVEN TO WRITE SMUT. Like, this was hard for me but I had fun writing it (this fic is 8k words oops). Also sorry if it’s not the best, I really did try.

My Ko-Fi

**********

You had two major rules for living with people: never sleep with them, and definitely never develop feelings for them. In your two years of living in the dorms you’d managed to abide by those rules, but you faced the biggest challenge to your rule the second you stopped living in the dorms. In your third year, you moved into a housing option that was a lot cheaper than the dorms or a regular apartment. The house you moved into was pretty small - only 12 people - so everyone saw a lot of each other. Cue the start of your troubles.

When you first had a video call with the other members of your house, your eyes immediately were drawn to one corner of the screen. Sure, you’d joined in the middle of a conversation so his box was highlighted, but you were sure you would have been watching his little screen anyways. You could tell he was sitting in bed - wherever he was - and he was already familiar with a few of the people in the call from the way he was chatting with them. He had a neatly trimmed beard, curls forming a halo around his face, a bright smile, and a pair of black glasses just pulling the look together, even if you didn’t really know what look that was.

When he gave his little introduction piece, you knew this would be trouble. Not only was his voice attractive, he also had a bit of a southern accent, which just doubled his attractiveness. Everyone went through their introductions, you being one of the last people because you didn’t volunteer until a lot later on. When people had the chance to ask questions, the guy - Thomas - decided to speak up. “Is that a (favorite show) poster behind you?”

You looked back at your wall like you didn’t know exactly what he was talking about. You were just surprised he pointed it out. “Oh, uh, yeah! It is!”

“Nice!” Thomas told you, giving you a bright smile. You could feel your breath catch at the sight, but you managed to smile back. As the call ended with one other person giving their introduction, you could already tell you were in trouble. You knew you couldn’t pursue anything with Thomas even if it happened that he also found you attractive. It wasn’t only that you’d be living with him, no; he was also one of the house managers, so if things ended bad, he could really make your living situation not the best. But still, there was nothing stopping you from finding him attractive.

When you moved in, you immediately ran into Thomas. You knew you were supposed to check in with Angelica so she could get you your keys, but she was helping someone else at the moment. “Hey, you’re (y/n), right?” Thomas asked, sitting at the dining room table as you just stood there waiting for Angelica.

“Y-yeah, I am,” you stuttered, silently cursing how nervous you were around him. This was your first time meeting the guy in person, and you were really going to make a fool of yourself, weren’t you. You looked back to where Angelica had disappeared upstairs, wondering just how long she would take.

“Well, I’m Thomas,” he introduced himself, standing from his seat. “I can take you on a tour of the house while you wait for Angelica if you want.”

“Uhm, sure, that’d be great!” You immediately accepted, feeling your face warm from the entire interaction. Thomas walked up next to you, nodding for you to follow him. Your parents were waiting outside for you to get your keys so they could help you move in, but since you had some time, why not?

**********

It didn’t take long for everyone to start feeling comfortable around each other. The only real issues there were in the house were arguments Thomas and Alexander would get into, but even those wouldn’t get too bad. Within a month of everyone moving in, it really started to feel like a little family. Which made your attraction to Thomas that much worse. You thought it would go away once you got to know the guy and it would fade into a friendship, but you were dead wrong. The more you got to know the guy, the harder you fell. The way he joked, the way he made sure you weren’t talked over (and if you were, he always made sure to come back to you and ask what you were going to say), almost everything about him made you realize it wasn’t just surface level attraction.

By the end of the first month, a few of your housemates - John, Alexander, and Laf - planned a little party in the living room. It was just for your house, but it really sounded like they were planning to throw a rager. You weren’t really one for parties, but it sounded like it could be fun. The fact that Thomas said he would be going had nothing to do with it.

When the day of the party came, you didn’t really know what you were going to do. You knew Thomas was going to be there, and Peggy really wanted to go, so after spending the afternoon deciding, you started getting ready for the party. You showered, pulled on a dress you saved for going out (not that you really went out in the first place), put your makeup on, and just sat there waiting for Peggy to get ready.

“This is gonna be so much fun! I saw Alex and John come in with the drinks for later and they bought so much,” Peggy gushed as she tried deciding between dresses. She finally turned to you. “Which one looks better?”

“Depends on the look you’re going for. The one on the right is definitely cute, but the one on the left is great if you’re trying to look hot,” you told her after a moment of looking at the options. She put the dress on the right back in the closet. Once she actually knew what she wanted to wear, she quickly got ready. As she was getting ready, there was a pounding on the door. Peggy went to go look, but whoever had done that was already gone. You already knew you were running a bit late, but who ever really showed up to parties on time?

The music wasn’t too loud when you and Peggy got to the living room half an hour after the party was supposed to start. The lights were off, save for one of those multi-color party lights, balloons were all over the floor, and some colorful YouTube video was playing on the TV. Alex and John were already drinking, quickly pulling Peggy to the booze table to make her something. Herc and Laf were sitting on one of the couches, just chatting, and Thomas was hanging near the pool table, talking to Maria. Maria looked gorgeous, red satin slip dress hugging her figure and sheer thigh-high stockings creating an image you could only hope to compete with. You left the living room, going to get yourself some water from the kitchen.

Just going across the hall was a huge difference. Aaron was sitting at the table, laptop in front of him as he worked on something. Angelica and Eliza were in the kitchen, making something that you were definitely going to try later. “Do you know what they’re making in there?” You asked Aaron as you filled your cup.

“No idea, but I know I’m going to have to clean it afterwards,” Aaron complained, looking up from his work. “You look nice.”

“Thanks. Are you going?” You nodded your head towards the living room.

“No, I have work to do tonight. Have fun, though.” To be honest, that was probably the longest conversation you’d had with Aaron. He normally kept to himself, except when he was dragged into hangouts with the house by other people. You took your cup of water and went back to the living room, seeing Peggy, John, and Alex huddled around Alex’s phone as they put more songs in the queue. Thomas was drinking something from a mason jar, though in the dim light you really couldn’t see what it was.

“Hey, (y/n), you look cute,” Thomas said as he walked up to you. You immediately looked down at your cup and mumbled a thank you. There was just something about being called cute that hit different, especially when it comes from someone you were very attracted to. “Do you want something to drink?”

“I’m good, I’m playing adult tonight,” you told him, holding up your cup a little. You finally looked at Thomas, the colored lights casting a mix of reds and blues on his skin. He was wearing a button up shirt, different from the t-shirts and tanks you’d seen him in before. When you looked a little further down, you saw he was wearing basketball shorts. That would just make it easier to- you stopped the thought there. You didn’t know where it came from, you couldn’t even blame any alcohol in your system. Instead, you blamed it on the colored lights in the dark room, creating an almost intimate atmosphere.

“Thank you. Would you mind cutting John off when he starts getting a little, you know?” You nodded. You did know. John was a bit of a sloppy drunk, but he hated when anyone pointed it out. That’s why every drinking night needed a designated adult. Thomas took another drink before nodding to the empty couch. “You wanna sit? No one’s really dancing yet.”

You nodded again, following Thomas to the couch. Even when the music picked up, only a few people were really dancing. Thomas got up a few times to refill his cup, but he never really left your side. The two of you talked through the night, and you found yourselves getting closer as the night went on. His attention was entirely on you, even brushing off Maria when she tried to pull him to dance. There were a few songs where you actually wanted to dance, and Thomas practically jumped at the chance to dance with you. Eventually the music changed to slower stuff, and you went back to sitting down with Thomas.

You really tried to stop your mind from racing at the proximity, but you couldn’t help it. As the two of you talked, the lights still dancing across his skin, you could see yourself closing the small gap, kissing him. Every now and then he’d brush his fingertips across your skin, but you couldn’t tell if it was intentional or not. Your skin burned with the slight brushes. Your mind ran to what his touch would feel like if it was more purposeful, how his skin would feel under your fingers. When he leaned forward, brushing some hair from your face, you wondered if he would always be this gentle.

Thomas was mid-sentence when it finally became too much. You took the chance, leaning in and pressing a questioning kiss to his lips. He tensed, and you immediately went to pull back. When he realized what you were doing, he brought his hand up to the back of your head, holding your face to his. The kiss started gentle, but it got more insistent as it went on. You could feel the party around you just melt away as the two of you kissed, your hands feeling his arms as you let yourself fall victim to your wants. You couldn’t tell if the kiss had lasted for minutes or hours, but you knew you must’ve looked a mess.

“Do you want to come up to my room?” Thomas asked, breathless and low enough for just you to hear. You nodded, and Thomas immediately stood, leading you by the hand. You could hear John’s drunken cheers as you and Thomas went up the stairs. His room wasn’t far from the stairs, and it didn’t take long for you to end up in his bed. His body lightly pinned yours on the bed, one of his thighs between yours. Thomas broke the kiss, only to trail kisses down your neck as his hands ran up and down your body.

“Thomas, please,” you said, not really sure what you were asking for.

“I know, Sugar.” You could feel his smirk against your skin. “I want you too.”

“I think I’m going to call it a night,” Thomas said, standing up. You were shocked at his sudden announcement. It wasn’t even just to you, he announced it to the whole party. He gave you a small smile before turning to leave the room. Just before he left, he turned around once more. “Reminder that quiet hours start in an hour, adjust the music accordingly.”

As soon as Thomas left, you could feel your social battery dying. You should’ve known better than to allow yourself to fantasize about what could’ve happened that night, just because he was paying attention to you. It didn’t take long for you to call it a night after that, just feeling exhaustion that wasn’t there before as you took off your makeup and changed into some sleep clothes. As you laid in bed, waiting for sleep to come to you, you couldn’t help as your mind replayed the night and your fantasies. The last thought you had was of the way Thomas looked in the colored lights, and the phantom feeling of his lips on yours, even though you never actually felt them.

**********

In the week following the party, you and Thomas went back to just how you were before. You were a little disappointed, but your mind immediately went to justifying the change. Or rather, lack of change. He’d been drinking a bit. He knew you felt out of place with all the drinking and weed smoking going on. He probably wanted to make sure you were feeling okay since you’d had a few conversations about how quickly your social battery died. There were all of these possibilities, but nothing was ever confirmed. So you just went back to how things were.

Then Laf planted a seed in your mind. It was delivery time - that time of night when everyone’s packages got delivered and people would either grab their packages and open them in their room, or open them in the dining room in front of everyone else. You’d just ordered a cute romper in an attempt to feel something, so you opened it in front of the rest of the group. “That’s so cute! You know, it seems like something the type of girl Thomas goes after would wear,” Laf announced when you held up the romper.

“What are you talking about?” James asked as he opened his own package, not even looking up. It was some lights for the little garden he was starting in his room. Maria was very invested in the new shoes she’d ordered, but you could tell she was still listening.

“They’d be cute together! You guys should go on a date, I’ll set it up,” Laf continued, focusing his attention on you now. “I ship them! They’re my new ship!”

“What’s going on?” Thomas asked, coming out from the kitchen. You looked down, folding the romper as fast as you could.

“Nothing,” Laf said. You looked up just in time to see Laf wink at you.

“Alright.” You could tell Thomas didn’t believe him by the side-eye he was giving him, but you were glad Laf didn’t announce it any louder than he already did. When you and Peggy got back to your room, you couldn’t help but tell her about the seed Laf had planted. Sure, you found Thomas very attractive, but the concept of a relationship with him had never entered your mind. Until now. Of course Peggy just made fun of you, but you knew it was all in good fun.

It took two days for that seed to be completely destroyed. You started to notice Thomas and Maria hanging out a lot more than they did before; they were almost constantly talking to each other, and there was once that you went upstairs to use the bathroom and saw Maria leaving Thomas’s room. You were in the living room watching a movie with the Schuylers when Thomas came in. “Hey, Maria and I want to watch something after, can you text me when you’re done?” Thomas asked Angelica, not even acknowledging anyone else.

“Yeah, sure,” Angelica told him. With that, he left the living room.

“Your boyfriend’s cheating on you,” Peggy teased, not loud enough that anyone else could hear her.

“Can we not do this right now?” You whispered, already feeling your chest tighten. Of course you should’ve known. People like Thomas never went for people like you, they would always end up with people like Maria. Why would you let Laf even give you the slightest bit of hope that things would be different? Peggy’s face immediately fell when she saw just how you looked.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, but you just shook your head. Why was she sorry? It wasn’t her fault. This was just on you.

For the next week, you avoided Thomas and Maria as much as you could. You took your dinners to your room to just eat and watch (favorite show), you didn’t really talk to them if you were in the same room as them, you didn’t go out of your way to hang out with them. If they noticed, they never said anything to you. Then again, it wasn’t really like you gave them the chance to.

**********

You wanted to keep your distance from your housemates, but John pulled you into agreeing to go to yet another house party. It would just be for your house again, but this time he’d managed to get everyone to agree to come. He didn’t even let you be late, grabbing you and Peggy from your room as soon as the party started. So there you were, standing by the pool table, sipping some drink that was way too strong (Aaron was designated adult this time), just watching the party around you. Maria was already there, wearing yet another dress that made her look absolutely gorgeous, but Thomas was nowhere to be seen.

“James, where’s your friend?” John practically yelled over the pounding music.

“He’s coming, don’t worry,” James said, rolling his eyes. You tensed at the confirmation, even though you knew he was going to be there. Before you could really think about it, Laf pulled you onto the dancefloor. Laf and Herc made sure that you were enjoying yourself, dancing with them and making sure you didn’t have the chance to think about it too much. Laf knew everything that was going on, trying to tell you that he was sorry about the entire ‘shipping’ thing. You just waved it off, not wanting to let it ruin the fun you were having.

You don’t know how many songs you danced with them before you needed to take a break and get some water. They finally let you out of their sights as soon as you promised to come back the second you were done. You appreciated their concern for you, but it was starting to get a little stifling. As you stood by the sink, glass stained with the red of your lipstick, you let your mind wander once again. You had been too busy dancing to pay attention to the party around you, but you guess Thomas must’ve arrived at some point. Had he been dancing with Maria? Did he even care you were there?

It was like the universe took your questioning as manifestations, and you wondered why it didn’t do that for literally anything else you tried manifesting as Thomas walked into the room. “I thought I saw you leave. You look really cute.”

You looked down at your outfit, taking in the romper that you’d bought not too long ago - a button down with a thick belt at the waist. You tried to ignore the way your heart fluttered at that, tried to remember the past few weeks where Thomas was completely focused on Maria, but your heart seemed to not get the message. “You know, you never compliment me outside of parties,” you decided to address the situation head on. “Is Maria waiting for you?”

“What?” Thomas seemed like he genuinely had no idea what was going on. You narrowed your eyes at him.

“I mean, the two of you have been spending a ton of time together, I’d expect you’d come to the party together,” you almost snapped.

“What about Laf and Herc? You seemed pretty close to them tonight,” Thomas immediately argued. You should’ve known he wouldn’t just let you snap at him without biting back.

“They’re just making sure I have a good time. Like you did last time,” you said, taking a deep breath. “I’m gonna go back.”

You heard Thomas say your name as you went back to the living room, but you kept walking. When you got back, Laf and Herc were immediately by your side. You gave them a soft smile, which they quickly returned. It didn’t take long for exhaustion to start to set in, your legs starting to hurt and your eyes starting to tire. You sat down in the corner of the couch, watching the party continue around you. It didn’t take long for Thomas to take the spot next to you. “I’m sorry.”

You just looked at him, waiting for him to continue. “Maria needed help with her statistics class and we’ve been spending time together because of that. I didn’t realize you’d take it the wrong way.”

“I’m so stupid.” Thomas looked confused. “I should be the one apologizing. I just kind of decided you didn’t like me.”

Thomas scooted closer, taking your hand in his. “Yeah, I kind of realized that. I really do like you, though.”

“Cool,” you said, not knowing how to really react in this situation. Thomas laughed, shaking his head as you felt the heat rise in your face. “I… uhm… I’m kinda feeling tired. I think I’m gonna head to bed.”

Thomas looked dejected before understanding crossed his features. “Your social battery?”

You nodded. “Yeah. Is it even midnight?”

Thomas checked his phone. “Just about. Do you want to come to my room?”

You stared at him blankly, your heart racing at the question. It was almost exactly like your fantasy at the last party, not that he’d know it. He had to know how that sounded, right? It seemed to take him a second to realize it, eyes widening. “I mean, just to hang out somewhere calm. I want to spend more time with you.”

“And what’s wrong with my room? People will notice if I go upstairs instead of just down the hall,” you argued, leaning closer to him.

“I know you have a bunk and I don’t want to sit on Peggy’s bed.”

“You could sit at my desk.”

“Under your bunk? That kind of defeats the purpose of hanging out.” Thomas rolled his eyes at your obvious deflection. You were just giving him a hard time at this point, still a little vindictive even if the only real issue over the past few weeks had been because of you.

“Alright, but don’t be surprised if I end up just passing out,” you agreed. Thomas gave you a blinding smile. “How are we gonna do this? If we leave together people are gonna talk.”

“Let them,” Thomas said, standing up and offering his hand to you. You took it.

Amazingly, no one seemed to notice the two of you leaving except for Aaron who shot you a pained look. You felt kind of bad for leaving him alone to everyone else, but your social battery really was dying and Thomas was offering an escape. He lead you up the stairs, down the hall a little to his room. The door was already slightly open - just so he wouldn’t have to carry around his key - but he opened the door further to let you in first. It was your first time seeing Thomas’s room, and it really fit him. He had a few pictures on the wall above his desk, the desk itself was neatly organized - textbooks stacked on one side, laptop in the center, a few pencils next to it. His bed was pushed to the corner near his desk, black comforter and deep magenta pillowcases different from the typical college dude bedding.

“You can sit down if you want,” Thomas said, walking over to his closet. He grabbed a t-shirt from one of the drawers. “I’m just gonna go change my shirt, you can sit on the bed or the chair, whatever you’re more comfortable with.”

Thomas left the room, and you decided to sit on the bed, still unsure of what you were doing. Your fantasy from the last party kept replaying in your mind, reminding you of just how different these circumstances were. You pressed a couple fingers to your wrist, feeling your racing pulse. You didn’t know why you were so nervous. You were pretty sure nothing was going to happen, but the images of Thomas kissing you, him touching you, it made your mind go crazy. Before you could talk yourself out of it, Thomas came back. “So, uh, what do you wanna do? We could listen to some music, or watch a movie…”

“Can we just listen to some music? Like, something softer though,” you said. Just listening to music seemed less intimate than watching a movie on his laptop with him, even though you really didn’t know why. Thomas nodded, turning on his speaker on his desk. He handed you his phone.

“You can choose,” he told you, sitting on the bed next to you. He pressed his back against the wall, watching you as you shared one of your playlists to his phone. Even though you could feel him watching, you missed the way his eyes took in your profile in the harsh light of his room. “Do you mind if I switch off the main light and turn on my desk light instead?”

“You know, this is sounding more and more sus as you keep talking,” you told him as your music started playing from his speaker. You turned the volume down a little, letting the music be just loud enough to provide some background noise. It was just what you needed to recharge. “But yeah, the ceiling lights are really harsh.”

Thomas got up to fix the lighting situation before taking his spot next to you once again. The two of you just sat there quietly, close but not quite touching, letting the soft sounds of your music wash over you. A few songs passed before you decided to just make your move, scooting closer to him to rest your head on his shoulder. You were still pretty drained from the party, and the excuse was ready if he was going to question you. He didn’t.

When he brought his hand up to play with your hair, you didn’t say anything. You enjoyed the gentle brush of his hand, almost as if he was afraid to disturb you. You closed your eyes, focusing on his touch. He started near your hairline, his fingers tracing a curve behind your ear, whispering down your jawline for a second before repeating the process. Time wasn’t real in your little bubble, the only clue being the songs changing in the background. “(Y/n)?” Thomas asked, voice low like he was trying not to break the atmosphere.

You hummed in response, eyes still closed, and you could feel Thomas’s soft laughter more than you could hear it. “I thought you fell asleep.”

“If you keep playing with my hair I just might,” you teased, smiling as you opened your eyes to look up at him. You were slightly taken aback at the way he looked at you, but you tried not to show it. It took you a second before you could finally place it - adoration. It was completely soft, something you never really saw on him before. You could see him leaning in, but he stopped a hairsbreadth away. You waited to see if he would close the miniscule gap or if you should, but then he spoke.

“Can I?” He practically whispered, bringing his hand up to caress your jaw. You nodded even as your heart pounded in your chest. Thomas stayed for a second as though he was giving you a chance to back out, and when you didn’t take it, he closed the gap. The kiss started out gentle, like he was still worried you would change your mind. You were enjoying yourself and the slow pace, but when your mind started taunting you with the things that could happen, you decided to take a chance. You brushed the tip of your tongue against his bottom lip, and he gladly took your sign to deepen the kiss.

Thomas kept one hand cupping your jaw, but the other moved to rest on your hip. The feeling of his hand sent a jolt through you, even through the layer of clothing still separating his skin from yours. You put a hand on the bed to reposition yourself, but Thomas pulled you onto his lap, your core resting on him. You let out a small gasp at the sudden move. Thomas pressed a kiss to your jaw. “Is this okay?” He mumbled against your skin.

“Y-yeah. Yeah, it’s good.” You were a little flustered at the position, but you definitely weren’t complaining. Thomas grasped your chin, tilting your face to look directly in your eyes. Your gaze darted down to his lips, trying to look anywhere but his eyes. You could tell he was studying you, your reactions. He brushed his thumb against your bottom lip, dragging it down just slightly.

“You’re so damn cute,” he murmured before kissing you breathless. Your hands went up to cup his jaw, holding him to you, while his settled on your waist. You went to adjust your position, accidentally grinding against him. Thomas let out the most sinful groan, breaking the kiss to rest his head on your shoulder. “I’m sorry, it just felt so-”

He was cut off by another groan as you grinded against him again. You bit your lip, feeling him harden underneath you. “Don’t apologize.”

Thomas brought you back down for another kiss, his hand on your hip now guiding your movements against him. You softly whined into the kiss, every sensation heightened by the dim room, the soft music. He broke the kiss, laughing slightly as you tried to chase his lips. Before you could say anything, he started kissing down your neck, nipping and soothing the spots with his tongue. As he worked, you started grinding against him faster, needing something to ease the heat pooling in you.

“I need you so bad,” you whined as he worked a spot on your collarbone. Thomas let go of your skin with a wet noise, looking up at you with hooded eyes.

“You sound so pretty when you’re needy,” Thomas said, smirking up at you. He brought his hands up to the buttons of your romper, the question evident in his eyes. You nodded, and he started slowly undoing your romper, pressing a kiss to each inch of skin revealed to him. “You’re gorgeous, Sugar.”

A shiver ran through you at his words, but you ignored it, instead opting to reach for the hem of his t-shirt. “What’s fair’s fair?”

“Of course.” Thomas took the chance to flip your positions, taking off his shirt as your back bounced slightly against the bed. You couldn’t help your sharp inhale as his shirt hit the floor. You knew he was built from what you saw around the house, but seeing him without any barriers was a completely different situation. His abs were solid, something you saw briefly the one time he lifted his shirt to clean his glasses in front of you, so you took the chance to drink in the sight. As your eyes trailed back up his body, he saw him looking down at you with a smirk. He was attractive and he knew it.

He was getting a little too smug for your liking. You wouldn’t normally consider yourself a bold person, but your next move definitely was. You slightly lifted yourself up, undoing your belt and smoothly sliding it off. You pushed the top of the romper off your shoulders, taking a quick glance to see Thomas’s attention completely on you. His smirk had fallen, but his bottom lip was caught between his teeth. You reached behind you, unhooking your bra in one movement (a silent victory on your part). Thomas eased himself down beside you, trying to hide his eagerness, but you could see it in his eyes. The second you tossed your bra to the side, Thomas was back on you, kissing you deeply as his hands explored your chest.

Whatever upperhand you had was gone as Thomas’s thumb ran back and forth over your nipple, drawing a keening whine from the back of your throat. You could feel his smirk as his lips left yours, kissing down your neck again. He nipped at your collarbone, licking at the spot before trailing his tongue across the tops of your breasts. Your hand flew up to hold the back of his head, needing to feel more of his mouth on you.

“You’re so responsive for me, Sugar,” Thomas hummed. “The way your body just acts on its own, the little noises you make for me, it’s intoxicating. All I’ve done is kiss you, we haven’t even gotten to the fun part yet.”

“Do you get off on the sound of your own voice?” You asked, gasping as his hand kneaded your breast. His movements were lazy, like he was ready to just have a conversation about this while teasing you to the point of madness.

“No, but I can tell you do.” He wasn’t wrong, but he didn’t need to point it out like that. Your silence spoke volumes. He decided to take pity on you, kissing and sucking on the breast he wasn’t kneading. Thomas’s first licks across your nipple were teasing, watching your reactions. You knew you couldn’t be loud - you couldn’t even step in the house without someone hearing you - but the electricity running through you at his touch was making that insanely difficult for you. When he used just the right amount of teeth, even you were surprised at the moan you let out.

Thomas didn’t make any move to quiet you, instead switching over to the other breast. You didn’t know what to do with your hands, switching between holding him to your breast and fisting your hand in the blanket beside you. You tried pressing your thighs together, but Thomas’s body on yours made that almost impossible. He grinded down on you, letting out his own little groan at the slight relief the pressure offered. Thomas brought one of his hands to your waist, teasing at where your romper was still on your body. You whined when his mouth left your skin, not that you’d admit to it. “Can I take this off?”

“Yes, please,” you told him. Thomas sat up, watching you for any signs of discomfort as he fully took your romper off. As he went to shed his own shorts, you leaned back on your elbows, watching. Even though his basketball shorts had already done little to conceal his arousal, seeing the tent in his boxers sent another rush of arousal through you. You spread your legs for Thomas to take his rightful spot between them, which he quickly did. He brought his hand to your core, running his fingers over the fabric there.

“Fuck, you’re soaked,” Thomas groaned, rubbing a little harder. “This all because of me?”

“You know it is,” you tried snipping, but his thumb finding your clit through your panties made it sound more like a plead for something. “Thomas, please touch me.”

“I am touching you,” he teased. “You want more already?”

You nodded. It was almost comical how fast your panties came off, but feeling his fingers against your lips quickly threw any humor you found in the situation out the window. He ran a finger along your slit, watching as you threw your head back against his pillows. You didn’t see the smirk that graced his lips again, watching the way you quickly fell apart under his touch. He hadn’t even done that much, but he wanted to see what’d you do when he actually took you apart.

The wetness between your legs glistened even in the dim light, and Thomas unknowingly licked his lips. There would be time to taste you later - he had the feeling if he went now, he’d be there all night. He dipped his finger into your entrance, teasing like he had been all night. You let out a soft whimper, half ready to beg, but then he gave you what you needed. He carefully inserted his finger into you, feeling around for your spot while his thumb worked your clit. Your soft noises were driving him crazy; even though they weren’t loud, they were mesmerizing, and he wondered how you’d sound if you didn’t have to worry about being overheard.

As he pumped his finger in you, he made sure to drag it along your wall, dragging out every little whimper he could. You tried to close your thighs on his hand, but he held them open with his free hand. Thomas wanted to see what he was doing to you, see your arousal glistening on his finger. Once he was sure you were ready, he slid another finger into you, drawing your loudest moan yet at the stretch. He curled his fingers, sending a shock of pleasure through you. He smiled when he felt you shudder, knowing he found it.

Thomas’s attention on your clit and the pressure on your spot was bringing you to your edge and fast. Your fisted hand in his sheet was pulling it down, your other hand trying to muffle the noises you were making. You weren’t normally so vocal in bed, but the way Thomas was playing your body just brought out this side that you never knew about. “I’m close,” you panted out the warning.

“Then cum for me, Sugar. Cum on my fingers.” It wasn’t an order, but your body listened to him like it was. You bit into your arm to hide your moans, and you swore you were close to breaking skin. Thomas worked you through it, his fingers slowing considerably but not quite stopping until the last shudder wracked through your body. He pulled his fingers out, looking at them covered in your juices. “Look at that, Sugar. You got me all messy.”

Before you even had the chance to be embarrassed, Thomas took his fingers in his mouth, making sure to completely clean them of your essence. You thought he couldn’t get more attractive, but the blissed out look on his face as he tasted you proved you wrong. You let out a soft whisper of ‘fuck’ at the sight. Your body was weak from your orgasm, but that didn’t stop you from sitting up so you could kiss him properly. You pulled back from the kiss, holding his face in your hands. “Thomas… do you want to?”

“Yeah, if you’re okay with it,” Thomas said, bringing one of his hands to cover yours. You rolled your eyes.

“I wouldn’t have asked if I wasn’t,” you sassed. You let out a shriek as Thomas pinned you back down to the bed.

“You’re so annoying.” Thomas kissed you, grinding his still-covered erection into you for a second before he got back up to dig in his desk drawer. He emerged a few seconds later, condom in hand. “Perks of being a manager.”

“Aren’t those supposed to be if we need them, not your personal use?” you decided to tease him.

“Technically this is you needing them,” Thomas laughed as he pulled down his boxers. His length stood proudly, precum beading at the tip. He stroked himself, watching you squirm on his bed. You could feel your body growing hot at his intense gaze, slight embarrassment making you want to cover up, but heavy arousal beat that out. You couldn’t pull your eyes away from his hand on his dick, his thumb rubbing the head, smearing the precum. After what felt like ages of the agonizing tease, Thomas finally rolled the condom on.

Thomas climbed back over you, caging you in between his arms. He dipped his head, catching your lips in a kiss that was softer than any of the ones you’d shared before. When he broke the kiss, he only separated a breath away. “Are you ready?”

“Please, Thomas, I need to feel you.” Thomas slowly dragged one hand down your body, reaching between the two of you to line up with your entrance.

“Tell me if you need me to do anything,” he said before finally sliding into you. You whined at the stretch, just bordering on the right side of uncomfortable. Thomas kissed you as he stayed still, waiting for you to get used to his size. After a second, you rolled your hips, needing him to move. Thomas picked up on your movement, giving a testing thrust. “Fuck, you feel so good.”

“Please, Thomas, move.” Thomas nodded, keeping his pace slow, but still hitting every spot that had you crying out for him. You tried to cover your mouth to muffle your noises, but Thomas stopped you, instead threading his fingers with yours and holding your hand to the bed. He kissed at your neck, and you could tell he was leaving marks, but you really didn’t care. The feeling of him inside you was driving you wild, but you needed him to move faster. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer.

“What is it, baby? You want me to move faster? But I like feeling you around me, gripping my dick so nice,” Thomas panted into your ear. Even though he was teasing, he still sped up his movements. You knew you were talking, but you didn’t really know what you were saying. The only thing you really registered was a stream of curse words and pleads for more, even though you really didn’t know what more you were asking for.

You could feel the heat pooling in you, so close but not quite there. You choked out a warning, your walls squeezing around him. His thrusts were getting faster and sloppier, just hinting that Thomas was nearing his end. “C’mon, baby, just a little longer. I’m almost there too,” Thomas panted into your ear, pressing his face into your neck.

You scratched your nails down his back, working your hips against his as you tried to reach your peak. Thomas nudged the side of your face, bringing his lips to yours. He brought a hand down between your bodies, feeling blindly for a second before finding your clit. You moaned into the kiss, unable to control it any longer. You broke the kiss, moans filling the room as Thomas worked you through it. Thomas followed soon after, unrestrained groans mingling with your own noises. He pumped into you a few more times before easing himself out of you, laying down next to you.

You laid there, letting the pleasant soreness settle in your body. You looked over at Thomas as he threw out the condom before sitting up and looking around for your romper. You saw it crumpled near the foot of his bed, and as you were pulling it on, you couldn’t help but make a little quip. “So that was fun.”

“Yeah, it really wa- why are you getting dressed?”

“Because I need to go back downstairs?”

“Stay with me,” he said, climbing back in bed beside you and wrapping his arms around you. “I”ll get you a shirt, you can go clean up in the bathroom, we can stay and cuddle…”

You had to admit, that all sounded very tempting. Then again, you had to think about the walk of shame you’d be doing. Either you could do it now when it wasn’t likely anyone was awake still, or you could do it in the morning before anyone else was up. Thomas pressed a kiss to your neck. “Alright, I guess I can stay.”

He gave you a bright smile before hopping up off the bed again. He grabbed his boxers from the floor and pulled them on before going to grab you a shirt. Once the shirt was on, you checked the hallway and bolted to the bathroom to clean up. By the time you got back to Thomas’s room, the music was off, and Thomas was in bed, scrolling on his phone. He looked over at you, the same bright smile on his face again.

“Hey,” you said, suddenly feeling shy. You’d just slept with the guy, and you were wearing his shirt, but now you didn’t know what to say.

“Hey.” He put his phone down on the desk before pulling his legs in so you could climb in next to him. Once you were in bed, you sat there, trying to figure out what to do. He wrapped his arm around your middle, pulling you into him. You took a deep breath, letting yourself relax into his hold. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “Stop worrying so much, go to sleep.”

You couldn’t help but listen to him.

**********

The first thing you registered was the fact that you were not in your bed. You knew the sheets felt different, your stuffed bear was not next to you, and there was definitely someone sleeping right beside you. It took a second for your half-asleep mind to piece together what had happened the night before, but once it did, you couldn’t help the word that slipped from your lips. “Fuck.”

“We already did that, Sugar,” Thomas mumbled from beside you, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you close to him. He nuzzled into your neck, and you’d be lying if you said that didn’t make you melt.

“Thomas,” you trailed off, not knowing what you were supposed to say. You lived with this guy, and would for at least 7 more months. Not only did you live with this guy, he was a manager for the house you lived in. That broke some of the most major rules you had for not only living with other people, but dating in general. Wait, were you even dating now?

“Shush, it’s still before noon. We have some more time.” You didn’t know what exactly he meant by that, but you let yourself relax into his hold. You should probably have this conversation with him when he wasn’t half asleep.

You stayed in bed with him for another hour before you finally went down to your own room. You waited for the hallway to go completely quiet and made your way down the stairs, only to see Peggy, Alex, and John sitting at the dinner table. “Look who finally made her appearance. So, how was Thomas?” John asked, a sly smile on his face.

“I just ended up passing out in his room after the party,” you tried lying, not meeting any of their eyes.

“So that’s why you’re wearing his shirt?” Peggy jumped in. Before you could even try to defend yourself with more lies, Alex spoke.

“The walls here are way too thin to try lying about things like that.”

#thomas jefferson x reader #thomas jefferson imagine #hamilton imagine #reader insert #smut

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togetherwearerapture · 4 years ago

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Montage (Ethan x MC)

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x MC (Elle Valentine)

Description: After returning from the Amazon, some liquor and the sight of Elle with another man makes Ethan realise that the feelings he’s been running from, are deeper and more powerful than he had ever imagined.

Warnings: Angst, alcohol, jealousy, mentions of sex, predatory behaviour, violence and injury. All characters belong to Pixelberry.

Notes: I’m back from the depths with another piece of Ethan angst (what else?). This is set at the start of Book 2, after Ethan and MC’s first week of working together again. The Dr Thorne aspect is a bit of a rewrite of Chapter 1.

Word Count: 3.4K

***************

The thrum of the music vibrates in his chest like a wayward pacemaker, the scotch burning through his veins. Tonight, Donahue’s is lively and crowded. Ethan usually stays away from the place on evenings like these, but he can’t quite bring himself to just finish his damn drink and leave.

He can’t stop watching her.

She’s not even looking at him- she probably doesn’t even know he’s here, for Christ’s sake- but still, he can’t bring himself to pull his gaze away. This enigmatic magnetism of hers is what drew Ethan in from the beginning.

Even when she was a name without a face, on top of the most compelling Edenbrook application he’d ever seen. Even when, he recalls, the moment their eyes met over an unconscious patient on the waiting room floor, back on her first day.

Her fingertips were quaking around the scalpel like the last leaf of fall around its lonely branch. Ethan remembers placing his own hand atop hers to guide her. She was delicate, and afraid, but through the adrenaline and the urgency of the situation, he could still see something irrefutably strong in her eyes.

‘A spark’ to describe sexual chemistry is such a cliché, and Ethan hates clichés, but he knows that from that moment on the waiting room floor, it has always been there. He realises that at some point, that spark became a wildfire.

And right now, with the combined kindling of the alcohol in his blood and the sight of her in the arms of another man, it’s an inferno.

And how it rages in his core.

Bryce Lahela leans in close to say something in her ear, and Elle Valentine throws her head back and laughs. Ethan knows the bar is far too loud for the sound to travel to him, but somehow, he hears it. He watches the lovely cascade of blonde hair swinging side to side down her back, as she and Bryce sway together happily on the dancefloor. As Ethan watches the surgeon’s tanned hands encircling her tiny waist, he remembers how it felt to hold her there with his own.

And then, he feels it beginning to creep into the corners of his mind. It is far too familiar now, but he has never become comfortable with its presence. It being, the torturous highlight reel of their time together. All their stolen moments, in the quietness and in the loud. It’s the montage that he had unsuccessfully tried to switch off in the Amazon by throwing himself into a pandemic for two months. For the last five days since he’s been back at Edenbrook, he’s tried to drown out its presence with his work. And tonight, he had attempted to resist its nightly arrival with alcohol.

When will you learn?

The rational medic in Ethan knows that liquor never does the job when it comes to her. He feels the montage creeping closer, and acknowledges that, if anything, the drink in his hand is the poison oil that has slickened the floodgates open.

You’re a goddamn fool, Ramsey.

And then, it’s there on the threshold again. He lets it come.

He remembers how her small hands felt as they travelled across his skin, dwarfed by the wide planes of his shoulders and chest. He remembers the way they felt that very first time, slipping underneath his tuxedo; her fingertips ten white hot points on his skin in the cold Miami air. Never before had he been touched with such tenderness and delicacy. Elle’s soft hands snaking behind his head to stroke the hair at the back of his neck was a sensation that he had etched into his soul.

He remembers when he touched her again, the first time they made love in his apartment. The feel of being inside of her, and the look of pure ecstasy on her face when she climaxed beneath him, was something that Ethan had burned into his cortex forever.

Ethan suddenly jerks as an obnoxiously drunk surgical resident knocks his elbow, leaning over the bar to signal Reggie for a round of shots. Jaw clenching, Ethan is momentarily dragged out from his reverie to snap at the resident to watch what he’s fucking doing. Surprising even himself with his irritability tonight, he returns his gaze to her. And almost immediately wishes he hasn’t.

There is no denying that she’s an absolute bombshell. She’s very clearly the most attractive woman in the hospital- hell, the most attractive woman Ethan has ever seen- but he suddenly becomes painfully aware that he is not the only one to notice this. He’s seen Lahela with her before around the hospital, flirting with her, of course. There’s also the burly paramedic who looks at her like a lovelorn puppy. And in fact, most people who come within ten feet of Elle Valentine do a double take in her direction.

And that includes tonight, too. Almost as if seeing it for the first time, Ethan looks around at the dancefloor, his hand tightening around the glass as he sees several other men cast admiring glances in her direction. The nudging, the pointing, the smirking, makes his blood boil. He tries desperately not to imagine what they are muttering to each other as they do so.

He tries (and fails spectacularly) not to think if Elle had slept with anyone else while he’d been in Brazil. Had she been with Lahela? His grip on her waist as they continued to sway on the dancefloor, looked too comfortable to be platonic. He wonders if, in his absence, if Elle had drowned her sorrows in alcohol like he had. Had she sat at this bar? Had she thrown herself into the arms of another- one of her many willing admirers? Had she had one night stands? Had the paramedic taken her out for dinner? That seemed like something he would do, he seemed the romantic type.

You have no right to think about any of this, a part of him chastises him from the depths of his intoxication. She can do what she wants, she can fuck who she wants. You pushed her away, you let her go.

The memory of their conversation here a mere five nights ago grips him like a vice.

**********

“Ethan…why didn’t you keep in touch?”

Her voice is so small, but it manages to smash his heart like a sledgehammer.

“No word from you at all, for two months? After everything that happened between us?”

“Everything that happened between us is exactly why I didn’t contact you. Elle, if we’re going to work together on the diagnostics team, we need a fresh start. Your professional development is too importance to jeopardise it with whatever…whatever it was that we had.”

“Had, past tense.”

“Yes. And the past is where it has to remain.”

**********

Past, that’s fucking rich, Ramsey, he scorns himself. The ‘It’ had never been so painfully and agonisingly present.

And so much for a fresh start for the sake of the diagnostics team. Ethan thinks of the new, cutting-edge research paper on Huntington’s that he had planned to review this evening. He thinks of it sitting, untouched, on the countertop of his empty apartment. He thinks of how he’s sitting at a much stickier countertop instead, drowning his sorrows in a scotch glass instead of a stack of paperwork.

******

“Good dancing stamina, Valentine,” says Bryce with a devilish wink, as the latest song comes to an end. Elle chuckles as they finally pull away from each other.

She stands on her tiptoes to talk in his ear above the din of the bar, telling him to go and see what the others want for the next round, while she joins the queue for the bar. Bryce nods, and with a light pat on her waist, heads back outside.

It’s then that Elle finds herself alone at the bar, and also alone with her thoughts. The thoughts she’s been desperately trying to push aside. She tries to focus her attention on the new happy hour cocktail list above the bar, but the Mexican Butterfly and Blood Orange Sling fail to captivate her thoughts.

Unable to keep her mind from wandering to him, Elle finds that her eyes do too. She allows her gaze to roam to his favourite seat at the bar…

And with a sudden jolt, sees that the seat is taken by the very man himself, and the piercing blue eyes that she’s been dreaming of for months, are already fixed on her own.

Feeling her heart rate begin to rise, Elle briefly considers breaking the eye contact. But perhaps it is the fact they are both alone, with no distractions, no one else to question them, that she allows herself to indulge. The shared gaze feels intimate, powerful, and almost illicit to her. He doesn’t look away, his eyes full of longing. Elle feels somehow naked there, as if they are the only two people in the room and he is devouring her with his eyes alone. She takes in the khaki jacket, the beard that she had dropped a hint at him to keep (and it doesn’t escape her notice that he took it), the neat whisky in hand.

She feels a sudden heat between her legs, and god, by the way his lips part just a little at that very moment, she swears he can feel radiating from her.

A jacket-clad shoulder suddenly steps beside her at the bar, and the moment is broken. Hiding her fluster, Elle swallows and shoots Reggie an understanding smile as he says he’ll be with her as quick as he can.

“What’s a pretty thing like you doing all on your lonesome? I could fix that.”

Startled, Elle turns to see that the owner of the jacket-clad shoulder is the one making the grotesque advances. Dr Garrett Thorne, a plastic surgeon she recognises from Edenbrook, is leering over her.

“I’m not alone. And I’m not interested, sorry,” she says, turning pointedly away from him and back to the bar. Her fingernails drum anxiously on the counter. She hopes Reggie comes over soon.

“You know, I’m a plastic surgeon,” he drawls, completely undeterred. “Most of my female clients would kill to get a body like yours.”

He leans closer, and Elle shrinks into herself; the usual scenario when trying to get rid of unwanted male attention. In a safer setting, or if her friends were, Elle would love to put Thorne in his place. But he’s far bigger than her, and he’s clearly not the type of man who would take no for an answer. Instinctively, she cranes her neck back around to the other end of the bar, hoping to meet Ethan’s eye again in a plea for help. To her dismay, she sees that the stool is empty.

“I said, I’m not interested. I want you to leave me alone-” she says firmly.

“But I can tell yours is all real,” Thorne raises his voice to speak over her. Elle isn’t sure if it’s the reek of his overpriced cologne or his words that make her feel suffocated. “It’s the proportions, you see…the shape. You just can’t get that with cosmetic adjustment.”

“Will you fuck off, you creep?” she snaps, disgusted.

“And of course,” he sneers, with a twisted, veneered smile, “you can tell for certain, by the feel.”

Elle barely has time to flinch away as Thorne’s hand touches her backside. Then, a flash of green collides with the plastic surgeon with the force of a freight train.

“Don’t touch her, you son of a bitch!”

******

Ethan pins Thorne against the bar, forearm pressed to his throat. Donahue’s whirring disco lights continue to throw out every colour under the rainbow, but all Ethan sees is red.

“Get-off-me-Ramsey!” Thorne splutters, squirming under Ethan’s unwavering hold.

“She told you to leave her alone, and you just didn’t listen.” He towers over the surgeon, his voice low. “If you ever touch her again, I’ll break your fucking hands, and you won’t operate for a year.”

Through the red haze, Ethan realises Reggie has appeared at his side.

“Easy Ethan, I’ll take care of him. I won’t have any creeps in here.” He lays a hand on Ethan’s shoulder, and one of the other barmen appears. Reluctantly, Ethan releases his grip on Thorne, watching him slither pathetically against the counter, his overly polished shoes slipping on the hardwood floor.

As Reggie and the barman march Thorne outside, a voice breaks through the sea of red.

“Ethan?”

He turns to see Elle, shaken. Her lips were slightly parted, her breathing quick.

“Elle, are you alright?” he says quickly, his hands settling on her with a gentleness that was completely alien to him a few moments before. He looks her over. “Did he hurt you, did he-”

“I’m fine, Ethan,” she interrupts him gently. She places her small hands on his arms. “Are-are you?”

He meets her eyes, and for a split second, the fairy lights above the bar could be stars in the sky above their hotel balcony. The draft from the back door could be the breeze over the Miami sea.

Then the memory is gone. The world that has disappeared to him for some time, jolts violently back into existence. Ethan glances around. Everyone in close proximity is staring at him. There are whispers.

“Elle, what’s going on?”

Ethan looks up and sees Lahela wading through the crowd, his gaze settling on Ethan’s hands on the junior resident’s waist.

Hurriedly, he drops his arms to his sides.

“As long as you’re alright. I should-”

He trails off, acutely aware of the many pairs of eyes around the bar still fixed on him. The staring burns him like fire, and he can feel it prickling at the back of his neck.

His cover has been blown. Was that an appropriate intervention, for a man making unwanted advances towards a woman in a bar? Wouldn’t a “back off, Garrett”, or a yanking of his arm have been enough? Was it necessary for him to pin him against the bar in a chokehold? To threaten to break his hands? Would he have reacted like that had it been any other woman?

She’s not just any woman to you. You know it, she knows it, and now this whole goddamn bar knows it too.

“I should go.”

“Ethan, wait!”

But it’s too late. He turns on his heel and walks away, as she pleads him not to.

He is acutely aware it’s not for the first time.

Now he is on the move, he becomes aware of the depths of his intoxication. The bar spins a little, and he almost stumbles as he reaches under the bar to retrieve his car keys that he’d given to Reggie earlier in the night.

He strides out of the door into the night. He barely registers Reggie and the barman shoving a protesting Thorne into the nearest cab. He just keeps walking, and walking.

He crosses over the street to Edenbrook, heading for the car park. The rows of stationary cars blur and dance in front of his eyes, and he knows he’s stumbling.

When his own car finally swims into view, Ethan fumbles with his keys to unlock it, half-falling into the driver’s seat.

He shoves the keys into the ignition. He knows how wrong and dangerous this is, but there is that gnawing desperation to be in control. To not be garnered by rules, and humiliation, and professionalism. He craves so badly to do something wrong, to rebel, and most of all, to get away.

He decisively turns the key, and the engine springs to life. As he fumbles for the gearstick to shove the car in drive, his fingertips trace something small and smooth. He glances down.

There, in the gearstick well, is Elle’s coconut chapstick. A fossil of her presence in his life.

And then the montage is there again, invading his mind before he even knows it’s there.

All the car rides they shared together; after they found the frog for Dolores, after the opera, after staying late at the hospital to work on Naveen’s case, after he dropped her off at her apartment the morning after they first made love.

Her laughter ringing through the car at him shaking his head, after she decisively switched over the stereo to a pop station, after enduring several hours of sombre classical tunes. Her singing along, with that beautiful voice of hers, which was entirely lovely to Ethan despite him rolling his eyes.

Their last night together…

He had made a conscious choice to engrave the vision in his mind, memorise every detail.

He remembers brushing her sweet spots with his lips; the hollow of her collarbone and the inside of her thigh. The feel of her goosebumps erupting under his fingertips as he did so, and the delicious sigh that escaped her lips.

He remembers every look on her face; the spectrum of her warm gentle smile, to the expression of pure ecstasy on her face as she came in his arms. He remembers all of it, the sight burned in his retinas forever.

That final morning. Elle laying in his arms, watching her sleep. He remembers running his hands through her hair, relishing in its softness, a golden halo around the pillow. He remembers watching her stir, then turning to stare stoically at the ceiling as he felt a lump grow in his throat, knowing he could never hold her like that again.

He finds his hands picking up the chapstick, throwing the cap carelessly aside. Fingers shaking, he presses it to his lips, and closes his eyes. The memory of every one of their kisses is so vivid, it’s almost cruel.

His throat burns and he chokes out a sob. Defeated, he turns off the engine. It feels as though an iron fist is closing around his neck. His eyes snap open, and he desperately fumbles to roll down the side window for air.

His reflection in the wing mirror catches his eye, and he glances up. He is terrified by how broken he looks.

A grown man, in tears over a woman’s chapstick. You’re pathetic, Ramsey.

His fists blasts into the mirror, the burning in his knuckles incomparable to the inferno in his soul. He can feel the pain; physically feel it- in his chest, and it feels like it’s ripping him from the inside out.

He is shaking, heaving with sobs now, his head in his hands as he feels a hot trickle of blood travel down his arm. He wonders what it is inside him that makes him torture himself in this way. That makes him deprive himself of the only woman he’s ever loved, the one every fibre of his being screams for.

He swears he can almost feel the warmth of Elle’s hand resting atop his knee, almost hear her voice ring out in the empty car, speaking words she’d said many times before.

“I’m here, Ethan.”

“I know.”

But she is not. Not anymore. And for that, Ethan knows he only has himself to blame.

#ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc #ethan x mc #dr ethan ramsey #open heart #choices open heart

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chaseatinydream · 4 years ago

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sly san who sacrifices (v) || c.s (atz)

➳ pairing: reader x choi san (ateez)

➳ word count: 3849

➳ genre: badboy au; fluff; angst

➳ synopsis: to the school, he may be a bad boy, the worst of the worst, but to you, he’s choi san, father of three cats, your best friend and ultimately, the boy you’re in love with.

>>>

Phone in hand, you run for the club as fast as you can.

Your feet slap against the wet pavement, little ripples in the puddles of rain left in your wake as you rush towards your destination, eyes glued to the glowing screen of your phone, fixed firmly on that tiny blinking red dot. Your legs are burning from the expected strain of them, but you don’t let up till you’re at the main entrance of the building that San is at.

Neon strobe lights hurt your eyes and you can already hear the raucous timbre of the disco music being blasted inside, the sound reverberating out onto the street outside. You spot the to be party goers mingling behind the red rope, chattering excitedly and dressed to the nines in killer outfits that shine brighter than your future and probably cost more than your college education.

This is definitely not your scene.

Swallowing, you glance down at yourself… you hadn’t really been thinking straight when you’d left the house, you’re dressed in a simple pair of shorts and a tee, nothing too scrappy but definitely not anything suitable for a night out at a club. A groan leaves you and you stare at the daunting sight before you once again, chewing nervously at your bottom lip as you contemplate turning back… and maybe just confronting San another day…

But then you snap back to your senses and give yourself a little slap, because what if this is your last chance? What if after tonight, San tells you he doesn’t want to speak or see you anymore? As unrealistic as it sounds, as irrational as your fears are, if there’s even the slightest chance it could happen, you’re not taking it – Choi San is worth more than your pride.

So you gather your courage, square your shoulders, and march to the main entrance at very front of the line.

Instantly, the mindless chattering all around you falls silent, so silent you could hear a pin drop on the wet asphalt. Panic and just sheer awkwardness crawls over your introverted skin, you weren’t made for places like this! But you force your unease down and meet the bouncer in the eye, he’s a hulking mass of steely muscle with a glint in his eye that almost scares the shit out of you literally (and probably would have if you hadn’t remembered that you had a mission to accomplish here).

He looks you up and down with a dismissive eye, barely needing to incline his head, he’s so tall. Then he leans down the slightest bit to look you directly in the eye with a near frightening stare, muscles in his neck rippling. “The end of the queue is over there, little girl.”

You swallow involuntarily, a bead of sweat running down the back or your neck and sliding down your clothes, the weight of everyone’s gazes on your back is highly uncomfortable but you ignore it in favour of keeping your gaze even and your voice steady. “I’m here to find a friend.”

“I don’t care what your reason is, in case you didn’t hear me the first time, the back of the queue is there.” The bouncer enunciates more slowly for you this time, as if you’re the one who’s drunk. “I can’t let you in unless the queue is gone, kid. There are plenty of people who want to get into this club who’ve been out here waiting since dusk.”

Your fingers twist in the hem of your shirt from nerves as you desperately try to think of a way out, unsure of what else you could do to make the man let you in. Glancing back at the queue, you’re horrified to see that it stretches around three blocks and disappears down a street, further than your eye can see. Waiting isn’t a viable option, but you don’t really have another choice unless it’s…

You force a polite smile on your face to mask the sheer panic you feel and meet the bouncer in the eye; he does not look the least bit amused. “I’m looking for Choi San.” You manage to say without bumbling like a complete fool, but using San’s name does seem to have its intended effect.

The bouncer’s eyes widen imperceptibly in surprise, just enough for you to notice up close. Then his eyebrows pinch together and his mouth pulls downwards in an unamused scowl. “It’s impossible for a person like you to know Choi San. Don’t lie to me, kid.”

You dig the bracelet out of your pocket and shove it in his face, from the way his lips part with a little intake of breath you know he must have seen it before and part of you is… happy... that he recognises it, for some strange reason. “I’m here to return his bracelet to him and then I’ll get out of your hair. Now, are you going to let me in or not?”

You’re not used to being so confident and out there, but there’s a rush of adrenaline flowing through your veins right now from the anticipation. The bouncer’s eyes narrow and for a long moment, you hold his sharp gaze evenly, unwilling to back down till he lets you in.

He backs down first with a sigh, moving towards to the rope that holds the door closed, unhooking it and ushering you inside. Behind you, you can hear angry protests of the people standing in the line, but you ignore them in favour of stepping into the club, eager to get to where San is.

The bouncer grabs your wrist with a warning glare and you whirl around to stare at him in confusion. “If something happens to you in there, missy, it’s not on me. Don’t get into any trouble and get out as fast as you can.”

You grin at him. “Thanks.”

Then you duck inside before he can say anything else.

Immediately, all five of your senses are assaulted by loud noises and bright lights coming from every direction. Bright purple neon juxtaposed against cool black leaves your eyes reeling from the colour contrast, the smell of smoke, sweat and even more alcohol so heavy and thick in the air you can taste it on your tongue. Biting on your lower lip in an attempt to remain calm in the midst of a mass of sweaty, gyrating human bodies, you stand on tip toes and try to search the dark, flickering room for San.

It proves to be a near inhuman feat. Groaning, you pull out your phone and search the map once again, sure enough, your little blue dot has overlapped with San’s red one to form a blinking purple circle, indicating that he is indeed here at this club… but where is he?

“Hey, little missy. This doesn’t look like your scene.” A voice comes from behind you and you jerk in surprise, whirling around to see someone standing there against the wall, exuding such an air of casual confidence that you can’t help but be blown away by it. His hair is blond and tousled into waves, held away from his forehead by a black bandanna to show off beautiful, dark eyes that remind you of sweet, sweet danger. Every instinct goes on high alert instantly and you actually find yourself taking a step back to take him in, he’s dressed in an all black ensemble that’s simple and stylish at the same time.

He meets your eyes with a smirk that you, for some reason, don’t find sleazy and cocks his head to the side playfully, teasingly. “What are you doing here dressed like that, darling?”

You’re on guard around him, tense, and he can see it, he enjoys it. He hasn’t moved an inch but you feel like you’re the one who’s been backed into a corner like a trapped animal, dangerous tension sparking between the two of you as you meet each other’s eyes.

“I’m here for a friend.” You spit out, suddenly desperate to get away from this man that practically oozes danger and appeal all at once. There’s a look in his eye that makes unease bubble in the pit of your stomach and when he takes a step forward, you actually flinch, every muscle in your body getting ready to run.

“Oh? Where is he then?” The man continues stepping closer and closer, and you practically freeze on the spot when he comes within an arm’s length of you. You can feel his hot breath against your cheeks, smell the slight scent of cologne and smoke clinging to his warm skin, feel the heat radiating off him. You don’t even realise you’re moving backwards till you’re backed into the wall, so completely taken by the sheer intensity of his gaze.

He leans in close but never quite touches you, only letting his words brush your bare skin as one hand comes up beside your head, he’s too close for your liking, too seductive than what you can deal with. “Why don’t we leave this place, darling, just you and me– ”

You’re about to cut him off mid-sentence politely, saying that you really need to look for your friend, but he never gets a chance to finish his sentence.

“Get the hell away from her, Wooyoung!”

Your eyes fly open in surprise at the sound of that voice and in the next second, the man is ripped away from you violently and thrown against the wall to your side. Your hands fly over your mouth to prevent the shout of horror from escaping you, but the blond doesn’t seem the least bit fazed at the sight of your best friend pinning him to the wall by the neck.

“What the hell were you doing to her?” San snarls venomously, digging his forearm into the blond’s throat. The blond simply looks down at him with a cocky grin, completely unrepentant as he shrugs. “What does it matter to you?”

San’s face twists in fury at those words frighteningly quick, you feel every drop of blood drain from your face when he raises a fist–

“San!” You cry out, running to his side and yanking on his arm as hard as you can. You’ve never seen San like this, so dark and filled with rage that it almost scares you. “He wasn’t doing anything to me! Stop it!”

San hesitates, fingers clenching and unclenching as he considers your words, the impulsive white hot rage burning behind his eyes simmering ever so slightly. Then he rips his hand from the blond and storms out of the club, leaving the blond rubbing the bruises on his throat with an exaggerated sigh.

“I’m sorry!” You bow once quickly and turn around to chase after San before he can disappear before your eyes again.

The blond sighs at the mess around him and gestures for all the onlookers to get back to their business, making his way over to the bar counter and seating himself on one of the seats there. “Some ice please, Mr Bartender.” He fingers the bruise at his adam’s apple with curiosity, an amused smile tugging on his lips. “I haven’t seen San-ie this worked up since we got expelled from our old school. It’s rather fun to watch him, isn’t he?”

“You shouldn’t have provoked him like that, Wooyoung-ah.” A smooth baritone tells him dryly as he slides a mojito over to him with a disapproving frown. Wooyoung merely grins as he scoops out two ice cubes and holds them to his throat, feeling the cold numbing the ache there, but the adrenaline he feels rushing through his body right now makes it so worth it. “You knew who she was to San, don’t lie to me. It’s like you’re trying to get yourself killed.”

“If I hadn’t done that, that coward would have tried to escape the club. I saw him moving towards the back doors when she came, so I just put on a little show for him to watch. It worked.” Wooyoung shrugs, raising the glass to his lips and taking a mouthful of his drink. Then he yelps and spits it into the potted plant next to him as fast as he can, mouth puckering uncontrollably. “That was the sourest thing I’ve tasted my entire life! What the hell, Yeosang? We’ve been friends for four years and this is how you treat me?”

Yeosang snorts as he wipes his glasses down with a clean cloth, shaking his head. “It’s precisely because we’ve been friends for four years that I’m doing this. You need to stop living so on the edge, it’s going to get you dead in a ditch one day.”

Wooyoung simply shrugs. “I’ll be fine.” Then he winces and presses the ice cubes a little more firmly against his skin, muttering under his breath. “If that little shit doesn’t get back together with her by tomorrow morning, I’m going to wring his neck for him, the fool.”

Yeosang looks over at his friend from behind the counter and rolls his eyes, but there’s a good-natured smile on his lips.

“San!”

Outside, you chase after San into a dark alleyway behind the club, before he can take another step you grab his wrist firmly with both hands and yank him backwards. He nearly stumbles at the force of your insistence, unbalanced from drink and alcohol, but finally turns around to face you, head hanged and not quite meeting your eye, clearly uncomfortable.

“What were you doing here?” San mumbles, words slightly slurred and barely loud enough for you to hear. “Weren’t you supposed to be studying at home with…” He falters for a moment and you frown in confusion, how has he forgotten the name of his own friend?

“Seonghwa and I were studying, but you were acting weird this morning so I went over to your house to ask you what was going on! Claude told me you weren’t at home so I came over to find you myself, only for you to almost get into a fight with someone else–”

San snorts, slumping against the wall with his eyes closed as he rubs his temples. “Wooyoung will be fine. That little bastard knew what he was doing the whole time, edging me on… it was a smart move, I’ll concede…”

You pause for a second. Wooyoung, Wooyoung, Wooyoung… the name sounds familiar… then it hits you. Your eyes widen and you stare at San in shock. “Isn’t Wooyoung that best friend of yours? Are you drunk? You nearly killed him! He didn’t even do anything to me!”

San’s face darken at your words, rising to his feet and lurching forward to stand dangerously close to you. But unlike with Wooyoung, you don’t feel the least bit of fear – San would never allow himself to hurt you, drunk or otherwise. “What the hell were you doing in a place like this, you idiot? What would you have done if Wooyoung wasn’t just playing around and if I weren’t there? Don’t you know you could get hurt?”

“But you were there.” You fire back, insistent. “That’s why I went there. I want to be where you are, is that so wrong?”

San groans, dragging a hand down his face. “The kind of places I go to are the places you shouldn’t be going to! Stay away from me, alright?”

But you’ve had enough of his nonsense and yank the bracelet from your pocket, shoving it in his face. His own eyes widen at the sight and he tries to snatch it from you, but you jerk it out of his reach and shove it back in your own pocket fiercely. “Is that why you took it off, San? I thought we had a promise! Best friends forever, remember?”

You’re furious, but every trace of anger evaporates in the next second, you’re completely stunned when you see a tear escape San, one at first, than two, then more and more, until San’s head is hung and you can’t see his eyes anymore, tears streaking down his cheeks and dripping to the ground. Horror overtakes you and you step forward, gripping his arm tightly. “San! San, what happened–”

Before you can say anything else, San yanks you into his chest and buries his face into your shoulder, trying to stifle his sobs. You’re still upset with him, but for now you just wrap your arms around him, the charms on your own wrist jingling. It’s not like San to be this emotional, you think worriedly… he must have had a lot more to drink than what you had thought. Then he speaks.

“I can’t belong to you anymore.” He mumbles into the crook of your neck brokenly, warm trails running down your shoulder. You utterly confused at his strange words, but then he continues and then you finally get it. “Seonghwa’s so much better for you, such a better person, he’s nice, he’s sweet, he’s kind… I want the best for you, I really do, but why can’t I stop selfishly loving you and just give you to him instead?”

Oh.

You don’t know what to feel for a second, every thought has fled your mind and you don’t know what to say, left wordless. San likes you. Choi San actually likes you. And he thinks you like Seonghwa.

This fool.

Your lips work to form words that you’re not even sure of, but before you can, you feel San slump against you, his weight resting on your shoulder and it’s all you can do to keep him upright, you can feel his snores against your skin. You don’t know whether to laugh or cry, instead you settle on doing both, a happy, weak chuckle escaping you as a single tear rolls down your cheek.

“Tell me that again when you’re sober, pabo.” You press a kiss to his temple and turn towards the mouth of the alleyway, pulling San along with you, his warm body pressed against yours. You hear San mumble drunkenly “morning?” under his breath, half asleep and completely knocked out, but you take another step forward, heart overflowing with emotions in this dark night.

Just until next morning.

You can wait that long.

The next morning, San’s eyes blink open, only to be pummeled in the face by a massive headache.

“Ow...” He groans, hunching over on the bed as he presses his fingertips against his forehead, it’s throbbing, alright. Just exactly how much did he drink last night? He clearly had one too many... had Claude driven him back?

Squeezing his eyes shut, he tries to remember the events of the night before... he recalls drinking at the bar with Wooyoung and Yeosang, his shock at seeing you enter the club, searching for someone who could only be him... He remembers trying to run away, seeing Wooyoung brazenly flirting with you and making you feel uncomfortable, red filling his vision and then...

What?

What had happened?

You.

Where were you?

Panic crashes into him and he jumps out of bed as fast as he physically can, bare feet touching the wooden floorboards of your room... your room... San’s brain stops working altogether as he gapes at his surroundings... a vase of spring daffodils he had given you a few days ago at the desk... framed photographs of him, you and Seonghwa on the walls... your biology textbooks on the shelves...

A jingling noise catches his attention and he raises a hand to stare at his wrist in complete and utter shock. It’s his charm bracelet, the one with a bell, around his wrist.

How did that get there? He clearly remembers leaving that with Claude before he left the house... unwilling to look at it again...

He looks down, and he’s shirtless. He looks around. It’s your room. He looks down at himself again.

He’s still shirtless.

San screams.

“What happened?” You burst into the room, holding a spatula menacingly and wearing a worried expression on your face. San only screams louder, yanks the blanket up to his chest and wags a shaking finger at you, looking positively horrified. “I... We... Room... Bed-”

“No, we didn’t sleep together, idiot, I took the sofa.” You roll your eyes and step over with three quick steps to gently press a kiss to his cheek. San immediately halts all movement altogether, becoming as still as a statue with comically wide eyes and a mouth hanging wide open. He doesn’t even move when you step out of the room, and a little part of you feels satisfied that you’ve finally managed to get him back for all those times he’s teased you before.

When you finally return with a tray of warm soup, a glass of warm water and some Advil, San is still standing there, blankly staring into space with one hand pressed to his cheek. You tell him to sit and he does, staring at you in shock the whole time.

“Here.” You pass him the cup and the pills and he swallows them with a gulp of water, shaking his head to regain his bearings. When he looks at you once more, you smile warmly at him with a little, knowing glint in your eye that honestly frightens him a bit.

“How did I get here?” San manages to croak out, his throat raw from the alcohol the night before. You grin a little cockily at him and his heart stutters in his chest, you seat yourself opposite him and take his hand in yours.

San’s eyes widen slightly, you’re behaving uncharacteristically forward with him today. It takes him by surprise but you don’t seem the least bit fazed, instead leaning even closer to meet his eyes with the biggest, brightest grin on your face.

Everything is going into overdrive, he thinks, slightly dazed.

“Someone confessed to me last night.” You whisper confidentially into his ear, eyes so bright and smile so positively radiant that he can’t help but feel happy for you, even though he absolutely despises what this means: Seonghwa must have confessed to you yesterday while the two of you were studying... and he... and he...

You continue rambling with a grin and San allows himself to wallow in his own grief for a moment while you’re distracted. “I’m so happy, you know! Because I’ve liked him secretly for such a long time, but I thought he didn’t like me back... Hey, San! Are you happy for me?”

San snaps back into reality, forcing a smile on his face that he hopes passes for genuine as he nods slowly, eyes downcast. “Yeah...” He can’t meet your gaze right now.

Then, all of a sudden, you smile at him, intertwining your fingers with him and raising your interlocked hands for him to see, your bracelets touching. Your eyes find him, determined and burning with intensity, and his breath leaves him for a moment at the latent fire in your gaze.

“San, would you be mine?”

San chokes.

#ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez san #ateez fanfiction #san fanfic #choi san #w; san #w; fanfiction

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impalementation · 4 years ago

Note

I think someone (cannot remember who, might have been you? idk) wrote some meta about Spike’s outfits. Essentially, it was that Spike changes himself into what he thinks the women he is in love with want, which explains why he wears ugly-ass jewelry in s6 lol I was wondering if you have any thoughts on Spike’s outfits over the course of the series/over his lifetime.

I’m not familiar with the meta you’re talking about, but I’ll be honest, I disagree with the premise. I don’t think there’s actually a strong indication that that’s what Spike does. The only time the text tells us that Spike is dressing to please a woman is Crush, when he wears Riley drag to appeal to Buffy. And because that’s the only time the text makes his sartorial motivations clearly woman-related, it seems more like an exception that proves the rule.

Instead, I think there’s a much stronger argument that Spike’s clothing choices reflect his relationship to society and social rules. In his human scenes in Fool For Love we see him fully and properly buttoned up. But afterwards, when he says he’s “though living by society’s rules” he’s in more unkempt, lower-class clothing. Or even in Lies My Parents Told Me his state of dishevelment shows that he’s no longer bound to Victorian social mores. Spike seems to have authentically wanted to escape those social restrictions; there’s no indication that it’s something Drusilla wanted, and his flyaway queue and oversized greatcoat in the China scenes hardly match Drusilla’s carefully composed look. Obviously, Spike’s Fool For Love narration should be taken with a grain of salt, but the “through living by society’s rules” part does ring true (even if he’s puffing himself up a bit by saying it), given how it’s backed up by his anti-social behavior. I think it’s the “so I decided to make a few of my own” part of that line that we’re supposed to read as unreliable, given that it’s immediately contradicted by a scene that shows that he’s the lowest on the totem pole in his vampire family, and has been run to ground by a bunch of angry humans. Not much rule-making going on there.

The fact that Spike later adopts a punk look once again reinforces the idea that his clothing choices are about giving some sort of middle finger to society. Then the fact that his clothing is much more normal once he’s souled shows that he cares about trying to live within the bounds of society again. When Buffy asks him to find himself in Get It Done and he goes back to his all-black, leather-coat look, you could definitely read that as him trying to do what Buffy wants. But I think there’s also an implication that his punk-ness is the more authentic Spike, or at least part of the authentic Spike, and Buffy wanted him to find that part. Given that he sticks with the black and leather look all through season five of Angel, a time when Buffy isn’t asking anything of him and he has no intention of going to her, I think it’s reasonable to think that it’s an outfit choice that he thinks fits him. Or that he’s attached to for whatever personal reasons, even if it’s just him putting on a front. He also keeps wearing that same clothing even after Drusilla breaks up with him, once again suggesting that it’s not something he was doing to make her happy. I mean we see him painting his nails in his crypt. Who would he be doing that for? Note that when he changes out of the Riley drag in Crush he never says that he’s doing it for Drusilla. Instead, I think it’s clear that he changes back into his regular clothes because he’s “found himself” again. It’s there in the dialogue:

SPIKE: It's been fun while it lasted, Harm, but I think it'd be best now if you hit the road.

HARMONY: Why? Because [Drusilla’s] back?

SPIKE: No. Because I am.

As for his jewelry in season six (which, not gonna lie, I find hot myself…unfortunately), and overall look, I don’t think we really get enough information one way or another to say why he’s doing it. On a meta level, I suspect the show wanted to make him look like a particularly bad decision, by playing up the trashy boyfriend vibe. On a character level, it’s true that he could potentially be doing it to appeal to Buffy. Some sort of peacocking thing. He could also be doing it as part of his attempt to seduce her to “badness” by really driving home that he’s a bad boy and she wants him. He could also be doing it as a kind of rebellion against the Riley look in Crush. Like he’s not a nice normal guy and he’s not going to pretend about it. Regardless, I would agree that there are probably Buffy motivations there, since Spike is very wrapped up Buffy that season. But again, I don’t think we ever really get enough information to say for sure what the intent of the show was with his costuming that season. Those are just ideas for what they might have been going for.

All that said, of course we know that Spike’s behavior is often motivated by his love for various women. Allying with Buffy for Drusilla, changing for Buffy, etc. Not denying that at all. But I don’t think it’s his sole motivation. I think he has bigger issues with identity and power—which are often reflected in his relationships with women, but still exist outside of them. I would say that overall his clothing choices are about him trying to feel free and powerful and not some foolish, well-off milksop. Fool For Love makes it pretty clear that he’s invented this punk, Slayer-killer identity for himself to distance himself from that person. Not out of devotion to Drusilla. Even though he is of course devoted to her, and even though that relationship influences his decisions.

#gen #spike

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bloody-bee-tea · 4 years ago

Text

Still perfect

Jiang Cheng is just about to look around for a new glass of champagne when one is offered to him.

“Oh,” Jiang Cheng says as he reaches for the glass on instinct, and it’s only belatedly that he realizes Lan Xichen is the one offering it to him.

“You look like you could need it,” Lan Xichen says with a small smile and Jiang Cheng can feel himself flush.

“Thank you,” Jiang Cheng says with feeling, because he does indeed need it.

He hates these conferences, where it’s all about the schmoozing of potential partners. He’s not cut out for that and while his mother certainly knows that, she also seems to enjoy throwing him into these situations. She’s probably sitting somewhere, laughing at his plight right now, Jiang Cheng just knows it.

At least today Wei Wuxian is with him, who easily charms everyone he talks to. It gives Jiang Cheng a little bit of space to breathe every now and then.

Jiang Cheng takes the glass from Lan Xichen, and he tries very hard not to think about the fact that their fingers brush against each other in a way that feels much more sensual than it has any right to be.

“Letting Wei Wuxian do all the work today?” Lan Xichen inquires as he turns to face the room as well, his shoulder lightly pressing against Jiang Cheng’s.

With anyone else Jiang Cheng would take offence at the implication that Jiang Cheng is not working today, but he knows Lan Xichen doesn’t mean it like that, so he only smiles slightly.

“You know how he is,” he gives back, watching his brother flit through the room. “He loves doing this.”

“Yeah, I know,” Lan Xichen says, but his gaze is on his own brother, who in turn is watching Wei Wuxian.

“Ugh,” Jiang Cheng says with feeling, because he is really damn tired of these love-sick fools by now. “Can’t they behave for one evening?” he wants to know and then drowns his sorrow in more champagne.

“I doubt Wangji even knows he’s doing it,” Lan Xichen muses and Jiang Cheng would call him out on his bullshit but in that moment Wei Wuxian looks at Lan Wangji and winks and Jiang Cheng could have done without ever knowing how Lan Wangji flushes.

“Unbelievable,” Jiang Cheng grumbles and turns away from them. It’s probably safer to look in the other direction for now.

“How are you holding up with all the sweet-talking?” Jiang Cheng wants to know and he’s grateful when Lan Xichen turns towards the other direction as well.

“There are some business associates I enjoy talking to,” he says with a meaningful glance at Jiang Cheng.

Jiang Cheng tries not to feel too pleased at that, but he fails spectacularly.

“Well, there might be one I can stand talking to as well,” Jiang Cheng grumbles and very deliberately does not watch as a huge smile blooms on Lan Xichen��s face.

“I’m glad to hear that,” Lan Xichen whispers and Jiang Cheng takes a healthy sip of his champagne again.

They have been flirting like this for months now, and Jiang Cheng knows that Lan Xichen is just waiting for him to take the last step but Jiang Cheng can’t bring himself to do it.

Jiang Cheng has known that he’s ace for a while now and it has been long enough to realize that people lose interest as soon as he tells them.

He doesn’t want Lan Xichen to lose interest.

So Jiang Cheng keeps flirting, and he keeps doing it in a very non-committal way, always pulling back when it gets too much, and he tries to tell himself that it’s all fine and dandy.

No need to ruin something good after all.

Jiang Cheng keeps telling himself that he wants to ease Lan Xichen into this before he drops the bomb on him, but Jiang Cheng also knows that there’s no way to ease Lan Xichen into this.

Jiang Cheng just has to tell him one of these days, and when he finally does all he can do is hope for the best.

“I have to—,” Jiang Cheng says suddenly when the brush of Lan Xichen’s shoulder against his own gets too much, and gestures vaguely into the room.

“Of course,” Lan Xichen immediately says, though he does sound disappointed. “Happy schmoozing.”

Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes at that, but he does toast Lan Xichen with his almost empty glass of champagne, before he walks away.

He manages to dodge the more annoying associates and he’s in a truly interesting conversation with Nie Huaisang when Wei Wuxian suddenly crashes into his side.

“Oh,” Nie Huaisang says after one look at Wei Wuxian and snaps his fan open. “That’s my queue to leave.”

Nie Huaisang hurries away before Jiang Cheng can even turn around to Wei Wuxian but as soon as he does it, he sees what sent Nie Huaisang running.

Wei Wuxian looks debauched.

“Seriously?” Jiang Cheng hisses. “You can’t even keep it in your pants for one fucking evening?”

“What can I say?” Wei Wuxian asks and his voice sounds raspy.

Jiang Cheng tries his best not to think about why that might be.

“Lan Zhan is insatiable.”

“I don’t want to know this,” Jiang Cheng presses out and tries to push Wei Wuxian away from him.

There are probably gross fluids all over him.

“But you should know what you’re getting yourself into,” Wei Wuxian says seriously and then smiles brightly at Jiang Cheng. “I bet Lan Xichen is just as insatiable. I mean, the Lans have all these rules, right? There must be a reason for them, and I bet you everything I own that they are all sex monsters.”

Jiang Cheng freezes as Wei Wuxian keeps talking, but Wei Wuxian doesn’t seem to notice, because he goes right on.

“You know when Lan Zhan said ‘Everyday means everyday’ I thought he was being sappy, or joking at best. Turns out he wasn’t. He gets really upset if we don’t get to do it,” Wei Wuxian tells him and Jiang Cheng brushes him off.

“That is more information than I ever wanted to know,” he courtly tells Wei Wuxian and then simply walks away from him.

Jiang Cheng is clenching his jaw so hard, he can hear his teeth grind together, but he’s afraid that if he stops he’ll crack the champagne flute that’s still in his hand and that would hurt a lot more, he’s sure of that.

Jiang Cheng knows that his sexual orientation is a problem for potential partners, but with Lan Xichen Jiang Cheng couldn’t help the tiny spark of hope that maybe he wouldn’t care too much. That maybe he likes Jiang Cheng enough to not be put off by the prospect of no sex ever, but of course Jiang Cheng only deluded himself.

He lets out a bitter chuckle at that thought and scrubs his hand over his face.

Fuck.

Of course Lan Xichen would want as much sex as Lan Wangji. And of course Jiang Cheng can never deliver on that.

Jiang Cheng should have realized sooner what a fucking fool he was being, every time he flirted with Lan Xichen. Of course it could lead nowhere.

Jiang Cheng decides that he spent enough time charming potential business partners and simply leaves, his mother’s potential rage be damned.

Wei Wuxian looks like he wants to yell something after him, but Jiang Cheng simply walks quicker to avoid having to hear him.

Jiang Cheng very deliberately does not look for Lan Xichen in the room, deciding it’s probably best if he simply leaves instead of talking to him again.

Right now, he’s not what you would call emotionally stable and Jiang Cheng is self-aware enough to know that.

He would only snap at Lan Xichen and say something rude and Lan Xichen certainly does not deserve that. He didn’t do anything wrong after all.

It’s Jiang Cheng’s own fault that he got his hopes up, and it’s high time he gets them back to the ground.

Lan Xichen and he are not made for each other, after all.

~*~*~

After that, Jiang Cheng starts to ignore Lan Xichen. He knows it’s unfair, but Jiang Cheng is still so desperately in love that he knows he couldn’t handle falling back into the same friendly banter and flirting they had going before.

He’s simply not strong enough for that. Especially now that he knows there’s no way in hell Lan Xichen would be content with just never sleeping with him.

It’s hard, at first, ignoring Lan Xichen, but Jiang Cheng gets better about it as the week progresses and Lan Xichen seems to take the hint eventually, because his messages get far and in between.

Jiang Cheng tries very hard to convince himself that he doesn’t care, that it’s better like this.

He doesn’t even believe himself.

Jiang Cheng gets grumpier as the days pass until eventually even Wei Wuxian tries to keep out of his way.

Still, Jiang Cheng finds himself reaching for his phone, a new message to Lan Xichen already open before he catches himself and it does nothing to improve his mood.

He misses Lan Xichen.

It’s probably for the best that he cut all ties with him already, because if he already misses Lan Xichen like this, then he doesn’t even want to imagine how he would miss him if they had crossed the line between harmless flirting and something more. Something with meaning.

Jiang Cheng is annoyed with himself but when Wei Wuxian shows up out of the blue, he’s almost grateful. It will be a good distraction.

Until Wei Wuxian flops down on his couch and says “What did you do to Xichen-ge?”

Jiang Cheng works his jaw until it hurts, but then he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

“I didn’t do anything,” he gets out, and even though he’s not looking at Wei Wuxian he can feel the disbelief radiating off him.

“Oh, is that why he’s been moping the last week? Is that why he has this heartbroken look on his face whenever I talk about you? Because you did nothing?” Wei Wuxian wants to know and Jiang Cheng clenches his fists.

He didn’t want Lan Xichen to suffer.

“When I asked him he said it was probably his fault and asked me not to bother you about it,” Wei Wuxian explains and Jiang Cheng’s heart gives a painful thud.

Of course Lan Xichen would think he did something wrong, Jiang Cheng should have known he would react like this. Lan Xichen loved to look for fault within himself first before he accused anyone else.

“But going by the look on your face, it probably is your fault, isn’t it?”

“Shut up,” Jiang Cheng snaps out and scrubs a hand over his face.

“What did you do?”

“Nothing that is of your concern,” Jiang Cheng tells him but when he finally turns around to face Wei Wuxian he sees the doubt on his face.

“You don’t seem any more happy than he is,” Wei Wuxian muses. “Have you been stupid?”

“I said shut up,” Jiang Cheng hisses which only seems to make Wei Wuxian think he’s right.

“What did you even do?”

“That is none of your business,” Jiang Cheng says and something on his face must tell Wei Wuxian just how serious he is, because he raises both hands in defeat.

“At least try to fix it? Or tell Lan Xichen that it’s not his fault, whatever happened?”

“What makes you think it isn’t? Is it that unbelievable that the perfect Lan Xichen did something wrong?”

“No,” Wei Wuxian says as he tilts his head in consideration. “But if it was him who did something you would be more angry. But you’re sad and hurt, so it must be something you did.”

Sometimes Jiang Cheng really hates his brother and how well he can read him.

“I’m right, aren’t I?” Wei Wuxian says but instead of sounding triumphant like Jiang Cheng would have expected he sounds sad. “Will you talk to Lan Xichen at least? You don’t seem to want to talk to me, but maybe you should talk to him.”

Ugh, Jiang Cheng hates how right his brother is.

“I will think about it,” he gives back even though his mind is already made up.

If Lan Xichen is suffering then of course Jiang Cheng will talk to him, no matter if it will hurt him in the process too. If Lan Xichen is truly sad about Jiang Cheng’s absence in his life right now, he’ll go over to his apartment and tell him why it’s for the best.

And it is for the best, Jiang Cheng is still sure of that.

~*~*~

Jiang Cheng didn’t expect to be this nervous. But he’s been hovering in front of Lan Xichen’s door for the past ten minutes and every time he raises his hand to knock he finds his hand shaking and then it’s just easier to lower it again.

Until he has to raise it again, because that gets significantly more difficult each time.

When he finally knocks, it’s an accident, because he heard a noise from the staircase and he startled himself into knocking.

Well, what’s done is done, Jiang Cheng thinks and takes a deep breath. He came to explain things to Lan Xichen. Might as well finally do it then.

“Wanyin,” Lan Xichen greets him with big eyes when he finally opens the door and Jiang Cheng can feel himself going soft at hearing that voice.

He always loved Lan Xichen’s voice.

“Hi,” he awkwardly says and even gives Lan Xichen a little wave.

Jiang Cheng wants to die of embarrassment on the spot but then Lan Xichen smiles at him and Jiang Cheng’s heart goes into overdrive for entirely different reasons.

“I’m sorry,” Lan Xichen says and effectively catches Jiang Cheng off guard.

“You’re what?” Jiang Cheng blurts out and Lan Xichen looks to the ground.

“I’m sorry. I had some time to think about why you would suddenly not reply to me anymore, and I guess it’s because I’ve come on too strong with my flirting, right? I thought you wanted it, were even receptive of it, but I realized my mistake, so I apologize. I never wanted to make you uncomfortable.”

“You didn’t,” Jiang Cheng blurts out, because how the hell could Lan Xichen ever think this when Jiang Cheng had flirted right back. “I flirted back, right?”

“But something must have upset you,” Lan Xichen insists and Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes at that.

“Well, it wasn’t you or your flirting,” he gives back and then looks down the hallway. “Look, I want to explain, but I’d really rather not do it in the hallway,” he says and once Lan Xichen understands the meaning of his words he immediately steps aside.

Jiang Cheng enters the apartment and he absently notes that everything looks exactly the same as it always does. He’s startled to realize that a small part of him had imagined Lan Xichen wallowing in a darkened apartment with take out boxes piling up everywhere.

Either Lan Xichen wallows very differently or—despite what Wei Wuxian said—the absence of Jiang Cheng from his life didn’t hit him all that hard.

Jiang Cheng likes to imagine it’s the first option.

“You don’t have to explain,” Lan Xichen says as soon as they reach the living-room. “I understand—”

“You don’t understand,” Jiang Cheng cuts him off and when he turns around he finds Lan Xichen staring at him with wide eyes. “Listen, Xichen, it’s really not because your flirting made me uncomfortable or you took it too far. It’s—well, it sounds stupid, but it’s me. I’m the problem.”

“You’re not a problem, you’re perfect,” Lan Xichen says immediately and Jiang Cheng is honestly too perplexed to protest that. “I mean it, Jiang Cheng, so don’t say anything else.”

“Thank you,” Jiang Cheng whispers and looks to the ground. “But there’s still something I need to explain.”

And after that, Lan Xichen won’t think him to be perfect anymore, Jiang Cheng just knows it.

“Alright,” Lan Xichen says, clearly realizing that Jiang Cheng is serious about this, and he points towards the couch. “Why don’t you take a seat and I’ll get you something to drink.”

Jiang Cheng wants to tell him that he doesn’t need anything to drink—he won’t stay long after all—but before he can even open his mouth, Lan Xichen already disappeared into the kitchen. Since there’s nothing else for Jiang Cheng to do, he sits down on the couch.

He mentally goes through how he’s going to start—really, he should have thought about this before—but before he can come up with a battle plan, Lan Xichen is already back, Jiang Cheng’s favourite soda in a glass.

“Oh,” Jiang Cheng says when Lan Xichen passes it to him and he looks down into the sparkling beverage, unable to meet Lan Xichen’s gaze.

“What do you want to explain?” Lan Xichen eventually prompts him when Jiang Cheng stays silent for too long and it’s only then that Jiang Cheng looks up again.

He wishes he hadn’t, when he meets Lan Xichen’s understanding gaze. He won’t be so understanding once Jiang Cheng explained his orientation, he knows that from experience and so Jiang Cheng basks in that understanding for as long as he can.

“Wanyin?” Lan Xichen eventually gently prompts him and Jiang Cheng shakes himself.

Time to get this over with.

“I’m ace,” he starts with because he figures it’s best to get it out there as soon as possible. “Asexual,” he goes on at Lan Xichen’s confused gaze. “It means I don’t experience sexual attraction.”

“Okay,” Lan Xichen says with a small frown and Jiang Cheng bites back a sigh. “I don’t see how that’s a problem,” Lan Xichen admits, and since Jiang Cheng has expected that, he explains.

“I don’t look at other people and think ‘Oh, I want to bang that’,” he tells Lan Xichen. “I don’t think of people like that.”

“Alright,” Lan Xichen says with a small nod. “So you don’t want sex?” he then asks and Jiang Cheng as to fight back a small smile, because he knew Lan Xichen would catch on quickly.

Too quickly for Jiang Cheng’s liking, because it meant even less time with Lan Xichen now.

“Exactly. I don’t want sex and I don’t want to have a physically intimate relationship with anyone. Hell, I barely like to give it a hand myself. I see it more like an annoying body function that has to be dealt with, like going to the toilet, you know,” Jiang Cheng rushes out, talking straight through his embarrassment and he’s avoiding Lan Xichen’s gaze again.

“I see,” Lan Xichen slowly says and Jiang Cheng knows that the full meaning of what he explained just hit him.

“Yeah,” Jiang Cheng awkwardly says. “So you see why this wouldn’t work out.”

There’s a beat of silence before Lan Xichen says “I don’t, actually.”

“What?” Jiang Cheng breathes out, and now he’s getting angry, which he much more prefers to being embarrassed. “Don’t play dumb now. Of course it wouldn’t work out with us given how you’re so—,” he starts but then he’s lacking the proper words to describe everything Lan Xichen is.

“Faithful?” Lan Xichen wants to know, his head tilted in thought. “I really don’t see the problem. I’m in love with you, and I didn’t sleep with anyone since that happened. Which—just for the record—has been for two years now. If you say you don’t want to have sex then I’ll just go on not sleeping with anyone, especially if that means I get you.”

Jiang Cheng freezes at that, and then he shakes his head.

“No, no, that’s not right, it’s not right.”

“Why not?” Lan Xichen gently asks him and Jiang Cheng can’t sit still anymore, so he gets up and starts pacing the living room.

“Because your brother is a literal sex monster and Wei Wuxian said you have all these rules for a reason.”

“The rules are there for a reason, yes,” Lan Xichen agrees, but before Jiang Cheng can nod he goes on. “But it’s not because we’re all sex monsters. That is a very specific trait Wangji excels in, I have to admit, but it’s not true for every Lan.”

“Oh,” Jiang Cheng says and then he has to sit down again, because with what Wei Wuxian has said to him, he was so sure that Lan Xichen was the same.

“Seriously, is this why you’ve been so worried and why you pulled away? You thought I needed as much sex as my brother and since you don’t want any of that we two wouldn’t work out?”

“Yes,” Jiang Cheng admits and buries his face in his hands. “I mean, the ace thing is always cause to worry—there are not a lot of understanding people around—so it all just came together.”

“Oh, Wanyin, there’s nothing for you to worry about,” Lan Xicheng softly says and gently pulls Jiang Cheng’s hands away from his face. “I love you, and I don’t mind if we never sleep together. Not as long as you love me too.”

Jiang Cheng flushes at hearing that so openly but then he nods.

“Of course I love you, too. I wouldn’t have flirted back like I did if I didn’t.”

“I thought so,” Lan Xichen muses and presses a soft kiss to Jiang Cheng’s knuckles. “Is this okay?” he wants to know and Jiang Cheng is too flustered to find his words so he simply nods.

“What about this?” Lan Xichen asks next and leans forward, slowly enough that there can be no misunderstanding his intention.

“Yes,” Jiang Cheng breathes out and closes the last bit of distance himself.

It’s so much better than he ever imagined it to be; Lan Xichen’s lips are soft against his and they are moving tentatively enough to not freak him out any more.

“There’s nothing for you to worry about,” Lan Xichen mumbles against his lips and Jiang Cheng chases after him for another kiss instead of answering him.

“Will you believe me, my heart?” Lan Xichen wants to know after he indulged Jiang Cheng with a few more kisses and Jiang Cheng rests his forehead on Lan Xichen’s shoulder.

“I will really never sleep with you,” Jiang Cheng says again, because a small part of him still believes that Lan Xichen didn’t fully understand him. “I will not even give you a hand or anything.”

“I understand,” Lan Xichen gives back seriously. “And I do not mind that at all. Like I said, I managed without for the past few years, I can manage without for all the years to come.”

“Fuck, you can’t just say that,” Jiang Cheng whines but when Lan Xichen slings his arms around him, Jiang Cheng melts against his chest.

“I can if I mean it. And I mean it, Wanyin. I love you. Of course it’s okay.”

“I love you, too,” Jiang Cheng mumbles into Lan Xichen’s shirt and then turns his head slightly to press a lingering kiss to his throat. “Thank you for understanding.”

“Of course,” Lan Xichen immediately says, as if there haven’t been people who were less or not at all understanding of Jiang Cheng’s orientation, but he guesses Jiang Yanli has been right all along.

If someone truly loves Jiang Cheng they wouldn’t mind.

Jiang Cheng is just glad that someone turned out to be Lan Xichen.

{Buy me a kofi}

#bt writes #the untamed #mdzs #xicheng #ace!jc #getting together #hurt/comfort #jc is worrying himself sick #and all for nothing #first kiss

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translations-by-aiimee · 3 years ago

Text

Dig a Grave to Dig Out a Ghost - Chapter 14

Original Title: 挖坟挖出鬼

Genres: Drama, Horror, Mystery, Supernatural, Yaoi

This translation is based on multiple MTLs and my own limited knowledge of Chinese characters. If I have made any egregious mistakes, please let me know.

Chapter Index

Chapter 14 - Lecture

For most people, it was just like any regular Monday afternoon. The temperature was high and there hadn't been any rain in over a week. A black Audi stopped at the entrance of the school's auditorium and really stood out. In the distance, he saw a big red banner at the entrance of the building: "A warm welcome to Professor Chen XX, appraisal researcher from the Palace Museum, for holding a cultural relic appraisal lecture in our school."

The auditorium had been recently built in the past few years. The entrance hall was very magnificent, with a light blue dome and wall, and the entire wall near the gate was made of glass. From the outside, he could see the crowds of people in the hall. Different from the usual modern style, the overall layout of the hall was more reminiscent of ancient designs. There were two large vases with impressions of a Ming Dynasty maid enjoying spring peaches. The promotional posters were framed by carved wooden windows. It was almost like walking into an antique shop.

The air-conditioning in the hall was turned too high and Lin Yan rubbed the goosebumps on his arms as he stood in the queue, staring at the posters to pass the time.

The professor on the poster looked like an unopened file folder, and even the reflection on his glasses looked like the transparent plastic wrapping paper on the file folder. Lin Yan was stumped, and then suddenly realized why he thought he looked so familiar. This person is the editor-in-chief of "Research on the History of Ming Dynasty Clothing". You could see his headshot when you turn to the first page of the textbook. It was said that he was quite famous in both professional research and folk antique auctions. He had probably seen him in a treasure appraisal program. Lin Yan recalled that he hadn't met him during the internship. Maybe because he had been an irrelevant excavation member.

On the other hand, why would someone ask him to participate in the excavation of a Ming Dynasty tomb?

"There are still 20 minutes before the doors open. Please wait patiently in the queue. Our staff will provide you with an introduction pamphlet for the event and free drinks." A sweet female voice came from the lobby intercom. Not far in front of Lin Yan, a tall boy who had been playing on a PSP with his head down turned his head and smiled wryly. He said to the person behind him: "The girl's voice is so sweet."

What's peculiar is that this person is wearing a modified Hanfu outfit, tailored to fit his body but with wide sleeves. With his pimples on his face and the PSP in his hand, he looked very strange. Lin Yan glanced around the room and was surprised to find that not only the PSP guy was dressed up, but many others had certain ancient style elements in their outfits. One girl even had her hair curled, and the ebony crested hairpiece swaying down by her sideburns.

Lin Yan stared, bored, outside the glass wall, and a familiar figure in a blue cloth robe caught his eye.

It was the little Daoist priest, squatting by the flowerbed not far away, feeding a lazy big yellow cat with some ham in his hand. The yellow cat curled up with a comfortable look, and his chubby figure resembled a large snail with a lot of privilege.

As soon as the little Daoist looked up, he saw Lin Yan beckoning to him. He threw the rest of the ham to the yellow cat in a hurry and ran into the hall with his schoolbag on his back. Lin Yan stepped out of line, and the cold surrounding him moved with him, although it seemed a little reluctant.

"At least A-Yan is a living person. You don't know how long you've been dead." Lin Yan couldn't help muttering. The series of events such as the exorcism and giving him talismans made Xiao Yu disgusted with this little Daoist priest. Every time in the past week that he had called A-Yan to ask about sending away spirits, well, his reaction was clear.

"Come here and wait." Lin Yan greeted the little Daoist priest who had just rushed into the hall. "It wasn't eating well, so I brought some ham for it." A-Yan was still holding half of the red plastic container in his hand. His face suddenly flushed red and he looked at Lin Yan with bright eyes.

His arm was squeezed by a cold hand and it pulled him away from the little Daoist priest. Lin Yan was already uncomfortably cold by the air conditioner, so he frowned and pushed down Xiao Yu's hand.

The lingering cold leaned against him, and abruptly shook against him. Lin Yan thought he must be really angry. When he looked up, he saw a group of students dressed in ancient costumes coming out of the golden gate of the auditorium. Unlike the people wearing the modified Hanfu costumes, these dozen or so people wore put-together Ming Dynasty outfits. Boys wore blue or white cloth with trimmed edges and silk scarves on their heads. Girls wore outer coats with gold and jade pendants and outer sleeves with beautiful embroidery. Some blouses and moonflower skirts were plainer for everyday Ming women, and some of them dressed as graceful ladies with big red sleeves. They each held a plate. There were small disposable paper cups inside, which the staff brought out to distribute.

Something wasn't right with Xiao Yu. His whole body was trembling against Lin Yan. Lin Yan was startled. He tried not to move his lips too much and asked him in a low voice, "Did you remember something?" Xiao Yu didn't answer, but Lin Yan remembered when he saw the ghost on the computer screen for the first time, he was not wearing a high hat at all, it was a futou.

"I'll take over, you guys go on break," a clear voice rang out. Lin Yan was shocked. A familiar figure stood in the staff's team, with short hair set against the various pieces of brocade. While distributing black tea, she turned around and laughed with her acquaintances. No matter how she changed her style, Lin Yan would never mistake that it was Weiwei.

Lin Yan wanted to lower his head and pretend that he hadn't seen her, but Weiwei had obviously noticed him. After a second of pause, Lin Yan called out and walked straight over to the buffet table. The colours of the rice farmer outfit she wore were interlaced and she was wearing very little makeup. There is a small Hetian seed around her neck, which is kind of chunky and stiff, which made a very natural look.

"Long time no see, are you here alone?" Weiwei smiled and handed a cup of black tea to Lin Yan. "Do you want to join us?"

Straightforward people like Weiwei never took embarrassing memories to heart. Lin Yan couldn’t do it. He always felt that he could never be friends with his past love affairs. Since they broke up, he did his best to avoid any situation where he might run into Weiwei, whether it was class reunions or birthdays, he always went with someone else. Of course, there were times he couldn't escape her, such as right now. Lin Yan reluctantly raised his head, forcing a laugh.

"No, no, I came with A-Yan." Lin Yan's face felt very hot, and he hurriedly pulled the little Daoist priest to hide behind.

Probably because of the little Daoist's strange reputation, Weiwei glanced at A-Yan in surprise. She quickly adjusted her expression, took a cup of black tea from the plate and handed it to A-Yan. She also gave Lin Yan two laminated pamphlets. Shee said: "This is the biggest activity of our club this semester. I have been busy preparing for more than two months. I'm losing my hair from how tired I am."

"Sounds great." Lin Yan's answer was a bit awkward.

"I hope you like it." She grinned.

A team of staff members rushed forward as they called her name. When they saw Weiwei and Lin Yan standing face to face without speaking, they began to mock: "Hey, is this the guy you used to go out with?" Shu Shengfu gave Lin Yan a once-over, shifting their gaze from the plaid shirt with good texture to the CK label on the jeans. He said, "You know how to pick the lookers. Such a nice little boy."

Weiwei didn't get angry. She simply turned around and said calmly: "What kind of look? This was the man I almost married. It doesn't matter what kind of person he is, he will marry into someone else's family." Everyone's face changed into realization in the shift of tone, and there was a wave of awkwardness. Shu Shengfu had a grimace on his face, and he pat Lin Yan on the shoulder. "So that's who you are. You had such an amazing girl get away from you. Too bad we don't have time to catch up" The words were addressed to Lin Yan, but his eyes kept staring at Weiwei.

Lin Yan smiled and said faintly: "If you want to know my methods, it'll be 100 yuan per lesson. Although you should look at my state now to see how it turns out."

There was another burst of laughter. Weiwei was a little embarrassed. She glared at Shu Shengfu and turned her face to Lin Yan and said with a straight face: "Don't pay attention to them, they're just fooling around. By the way, you two don't need to line up here. There are a few rows of seats reserved for the staff. We all have to be on duty at the door and can’t go in. It’ll be a pity for them to be empty, and it doesn't look good for the photos. Go sit there.” She pulled out two blue tickets from the bottom of the pamphlet tray, which were similar to those in Lin Yan's hand, except that there was a small yellow VIP logo in the upper right corner.

Lin Yan instinctively wanted to refuse, but when Weiwei said that there was a question-and-answer session in the lecture, she was too nervous to sit in the front row and talk directly with the professor. He clutched the pamphlet hesitantly but eventually accepted the tickets.

"However. . ." Lin Yan thought for a second: "I need three seats, can I?"

Weiwei glanced sharply at the girl behind Lin Yan. Lin Yan shook his head with a strange expression: "No, my friend hasn't come over yet."

Weiwei asked the girl next to her for a ticket, She seemed reluctant to ask, but she whispered: "Lin Yan, are you. . ."

A large group of well-dressed girls swarmed behind him, and the one who took the lead was surprised when she saw Weiwei, gesturing to the handsome guy that was in front of her. Weiwei glanced at Lin Yan helplessly. She wanted to say something, but Lin Yan suddenly interrupted her: "I'll go now if that's alright. My friends are still waiting for me."

A group of people huddled Weiwei and she continued to hand out drinks. She was a very social person. No matter where she went, people always flocked around her. Lin Yan was the opposite. Although Lin Yan was popular, he felt more at ease alone as opposed to being in the crowd every day. Lin Yan handed the three VIP seat tickets to the little Daoist priest, and the two walked along the red carpet to the staff seats together.

The backstage corridor was completely different from the front hall. The western-style decoration was magnificent. The gilded flowers float across the wall. After staring at them for a while, they seemed to jump off the wall. Lin Yan stroked the wallpaper with a finger, unsure of what to feel. He was a little embarrassed, a little nostalgic, he didn't know what expression he should wear. He wasn't sure what to do with himself.

His life shouldn’t be like this. Lin Yan looked up at the crystal chandelier on the ceiling. He had felt that the world was splitting apart when he and Weiwei broke up half a year ago. In a normal world, he and Weiwei would have been the ideal couple, standing at the door of their home together to welcome their guests. Here, he walked down the corridor alone in a daze, and fell into an abyss behind the main entrance of the lecture hall, falling endlessly to the ground.

The cold fingers touched the back of his hand. He held his wrist a little harder. His thumb slid into the palm of his hand and opened his fist, giving his hand a light squeeze. Lin Yan paused and sighed, his fingers curling back around the other's hand. It was as if holding Xiao Yu's hand was natural. It was cold, firm and slender, like holding a piece of porcelain. Xiao Yu turned around and wrapped Lin Yan's right hand in his palm. He didn't know why he suddenly felt so calm. He thought it was always good for someone to stand by him through the most embarrassing moments, regardless of whether or not that person had been dead for almost 500 years.

#dig a grave to dig out a ghost #chinese bl #chinese novel #english translation #yaoi novel #yaoi #danmei

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spacehologramcollection · 4 years ago

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The Kombat Kast and Music.

A nice fluffy post. As it appears all I’ve been writing recently is smut and Fujin smut at that. One fine man there. A finely aged wine if ever there was one. I’m not even sure what to call this. I guess it’s like The Kombat Kast and your song. Do people still have songs? (Like this is such a 00’s thing: ‘OH MY GOD THIS IS OUR SONG SHUT UP LET ME RECORD IT ON MY PHONE!’)

I don’t own any of the songs. Didn’t link anything in because I’m sure Tumblr wouldn’t be happy with that. Under the cut for slight NSFW and because it’s a looooong post. I’m going to do a part 2. This was so long.

Enjoy!

Warnings: Slight NSFW below the cut so 18+, little bit of angst, lots of fluff. Mentions of Kano, slight shitpost, it’s at the bottom, because the tea has been spilled.

Songs don’t belong to me.

· Kabal. Song: Morocco

Artist: Moon Taxi. Lyric: Running in circles I was losing my mind, when you found me and you led me to the water just in time, Reasoning: Okay. So, this may just be a self-insert fantasy of mine. But I can imagine this song playing in the background after you get caught in a thunderstorm, you’re drying his hair off and you’re cuddled up in your dimly light apartment. I also think the lyrics speak to your relationship. The verse is talking about been lost and someone finding someone. Post-burn Kabal is very lost, unsure, confused. So, I feel the lyrics really speak to your relationship. Because he literally was running in circles, he had lost his mind little, and you kind of helped. When you tell him ‘This is our song’ he fucking loves it instantly. He doesn’t give a shit if it’s not his style of music. If you say it’s your song, then it’s your fucking song. Will. Put. It. On. In. the. Car. Stryker is done listening to it. When he hearts it, he thinks of you, which always bring about a goofy smile on his face. Pre-burn: I also feel this applies to pre-burn, he was running around with the Black Dragon, slightly lost in life, and like (AU where his shit storm story in 11 doesn’t happen) you pulled him out of that shit just in time.

· Raiden. Electric Love. Song: Electric Love. Artist: Børns Lyric: And every night my mind is running around her. Then it's getting louder and louder and louder… Baby you're like lightning in a bottle, I can't let you go now that I got I, All I need is to be struck by your electric love, Baby, your electric love Reasoning: Raiden gets two. Lucky bastard. This song has two lyrics that speak to your relationship with the God of Lightening. He’s literally like lightening in a bottle, well in a man, and you got hit by his electric love. It’s an obvious choice. The whole song could be attributed to his feelings towards you, or your feelings towards him. You’re in love with the thunder and lightening itself. It’s a very sweet song. One that you’ve caught him humming along to. Once you tell him, ‘This is our song’ he loves it. Such a cute fucking song for the both of you.

· Dark!Raiden. Song: Electric Feel. Artist: MGMT. Lyric: Baby girl, Turn me on with your electric feel… You can feel it in your mind Oh you can do it all the time, plug it in, change the world Reasoning: Need I say more? Probably another obvious choice for yours and Raiden’s song. This one has less of a romantic feel, the beat really gives me power/sex vibes when associated with him. So, it suits Dark!Raiden more. He’s more dominant and more in control. He’s also my likely to use his powers to get you going, if you’re into that sort of thing. You’ve probably fucked to this song too. When you tell him it’s your song, he becomes obsessed with it. And whenever he comes on, he’s reminded of that first sinful time he heard it. Your body is electric to him and he loves it.

· Fujin. Song: Rather Be,

Artist: Clean Bandit. Lyric: We're a thousand miles from comfort, we have travelled land and sea But as long as you are with me, there's no place I'd rather be I would wait forever, exalted in the scene As long as I am with you, my heart continues to beat Reasoning: Okay guilty pleasure song, but it fucking bops. This sums up your relationship because your relationship was not only a shot in the dark, because you’re falling in love with a God. You’re unsure if it’s going to work. It’s more than just a long-distance relationship, you’re falling in love with someone who could be in a different realm to you. Literally a thousand miles from you. When he returns, he finds great comfort with just hanging out with you, taking walks, and enjoying your company. There really is no place he’d rather be or anyone he’d rather be with. You wait for him, completely taken back when he arrives. As long as you’re with each other, you’re content and at ease. He misses you a lot but knowing he’s returning to you makes it easier. When you tell him about the mortal custom of having a song with the one you love, he wants to know what yours is with him. You two love this song. He really vibes with it. You have gotten a little drunk and sung/butchered the song together. Good times.

· Smoke. Song: Ophelia. Artist: The Lumineers. Lyric: Oh, Ophelia, you've been on my mind girl like a drug…Oh, Ophelia, you've been on my mind girl since the flood, Oh, Ophelia, heaven help a fool who falls in love. Reasoning: I totally changed my mind with this one, I originally thought it suited Kabal. But it fits way better with Smoke and your relationship. Smoke is a giant Hipster, and no one can argue with me on this one. So, he loves the band. He’s the one that comes up with the idea for this been your song. He’s unsure of himself. He’s not fully human anymore, love isn’t his forte either. So, it literally is heaven help a fool who falls in love. When you first listen to it, you’re unsure. But when he explains that your constantly on his mind, and he constantly thinks about you. You kind of get the meaning more. That, and it’s a very catchy song. He’ll also, on occasion, sing it to you whilst he twirls you around your apartment.

· Cassie Cage: Song: Jenny. Artist: The Studio Killers. Lyric: I wanna ruin our friendship, we should be lovers instead, I don't know how to say this 'Cause you're really my dearest friend. Reasoning: The reasoning for this song been your song with Cassie, is mainly due to the fact that you’d always listen to it in her car. No matter the trip. She and you would sing it and vibe to it. You always did wonder with the lyrics if it had another meaning, you hoped it did. So, it comes to no surprise when you share your first kiss to this song. You’re both driving home from the movies, and she’s about to drop you off, the songs just ended and you’re both giggling and the adrenaline is high. Queue a soft kiss between the two of you. Cassie does admit she hopes the song kinda gave it away, she was being very forward, but wanted to like you give you time to see if you felt the same. Que it becoming your song, whenever it comes on in the club, you’re ready to get up and dance. Jacqui is requesting it so she can watch you two groove!

· Jacqui Briggs. Song: What We Live For. Artist: American Authors. Lyric: We look up at the stars, a perfect night to dream with you Got nineties retro on the radio, our favourite tune I put the pedal to the metal just to laugh with you It's interstellar when it's just us two Reasoning:

This is such a cute song. The two of you live and love 90’s songs and retro music. You both love cute dates involving star gazing, going for drives and your dates are always filled with laughter. It’s your jam. You also love road trips, planning them, talking about them and obviously going on them. Jacqui literally also has the best music taste. It came on your first road trip as a couple. You both kind of looked at each other, your mouths sort of mouthing the lyrics, not wanting to admit it your guilty pleasure song. When you both catch each other singing it, you both smile, and then you turn your solo mumbling act; into the best operatic duet the car has ever seen! Your relationship is also interstellar. You both live life to the maximum and you’re living life to the full. When you ask what your song should be, you both agree on this one instantly. You trust each other both so much, as long as you’re together, you’re prepared for anything including the great unknown.

· Sub Zero (Kuai Liang):

Song: Almost (Sweet Music) Artist: Hozier. Lyric: I wouldn't know where to start, "Sweet Music" playing "In the Dark", Be still "My Foolish Heart," Don't ruin this on me. Reasoning: A pretty cute reasoning. Why this is considered your song. You chose it because of how he often referred to love as foolish prior to your relationship. That, and when you had your first romantic moment, he did utter the phrase ‘Be still my foolish heart’ and it did make you giggle in the moment. It’s such a Kuai way of saying ‘What the fuck is going on?’ he’s basically a window error noise when it comes to romance. When you tell him this is your song, he’s confused and wants to know what you mean. Once you tell him, he’s kind of into it. It’s a happy sounding song, with a nice beat, and he kind of looks at you when listening to it. If it was to come on shuffle and you were in private, he would remark on it. Smoke once played it and he ended up blushing a little too much. Don’t let Bi-Han know, he’ll never hear the end of it.

· Scorpion (Hanzo Hasashi.)

Song: Would that I

Artist: Hozier.

Lyric: The whole song. Just the whole song. But specific lyrics: With the roar of the fire my heart rose to its feet… I fell in love with the fire long ago … So in awe there I stood As you licked off the grain Though I've handled the wood I still worship the flame As long as amber of ember glows All the wood that I'd loved is long ago… Oh, let it blaze alright (ooh) Oh, but you're good to me

Reasoning: This whole song screams what a relationship with Hanzo would be like. And it’s just not because of the fire theme either. His heart has been dormant for a while, but when he sees you, it literally rose up and got life back to it. It speaks to your relationship in terms of you too, you’d fallen in love with him a long time ago and had fallen in love with the fire a long time ago too. He’s always in awe of you and you’re always good with him. Your patience is never ending, and he burns bright in your life. You’re falling in love with fire, the warmth, the crackle and familiarity when you love him. When you tell him, this is your song and you’re both listening to it. You swear you see the smallest smile. He pretends like it’s not a big deal. Music is not his jam, not modern music anywhere, but he finds the lyrics soothing and accurate with your relationship. Cuddling with this in the background too.

· Erron Black.

Song: Home. Artist: Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros. Lyric: Girl, I've never loved one like you

Ah, home, let me come home Home is wherever I'm with you Ah, home, let me come home Home is wherever I'm with you Reasoning: So, it’s not a proper country song. But the lyrics have meaning, and it’s kind of got a folk/country vibe to it. This song fits your relationship, just because the lyrics suit his kind of way speaking. It reminds you of him when you listen to it. Erron hasn’t had a fixed home so to speak of in a while. He’s a drifter, has been for a long time. Until he came to Outworld, he hasn’t really had fixed location. Nothing to come back to. It’s a lifestyle he’s grown accustomed to and used to. If you’re going to be with him, it’s kind of a life you’ll have to either grow used to too or be prepared to wait for him. Either option you choose, this song fits that relationship. Either his feelings towards coming home to you, or you travelling with him and home being wherever you are as long as you’re with him. When you admit this is the song you’ve got in mind for the two of you. He kind of furrows his brow. He listens to it and he can vibe with it. It’s got a certain country style jam to it; he loves the whistling and he definitely can do the whistle part perfectly. He’s also started affectionately referring to you as ‘the apple of his eye’. You two also have a bit too much whisky and end up singing this. Confusing the fuck out of Kotal and Jade, who are trying to figure out which realm this song has come from.

· Bi-Han.

Song: I think We’re Alone Now. Artist: Tiffany. Lyric:

Look at the way we gotta hide what we're doin' 'Cause what would they say If they ever knew Reasoning:

Ever since watching the Umbrella Academy, I can imagine Bi-Han, Smoke and Kuai just dancing TERRIBLY to this song. But I digress. This song started as your song as joke. He caught you singing it, he thought it was a jam. Queue you both getting a little tipsy at the Lin Kuei temple and fucking belting the fuck out of the song. You’re both hammered, Smoke isn’t sure how to react, Kuai is dying on the inside. You’re having a great time. You drunkenly both agree this is your song. Purely because, you constantly have to hide what you’re doing, because what would Kuai and the Clan say? Frost couldn’t give a fuck. She just wants to be left out of this. You have had to run hand in hand outside, because he really wanted to fuck you, but they had a full temple. So that wasn’t happening. And in his absolute adrenaline fuelled state, he may have started singing it. He’s not sure if it was out of nerves or if he wanted to make light of the situation .

· Sareena. Song: Trust. Artist: Martha Bean. Lyric: Don't let history haunt you, just let the mystery guide you I'm telling you now, there's a way (Close your eyes and let me guide you Take you to a place where love can find you) You gotta liberate Find your freedom… Reasoning: So this song is more geared towards personifying Sareena. It’s a song that makes you think about her. She has a pretty shitty backstory and she’s also a fair bit of mystery around her. She’s haunted slightly by her past, has regrets, and in the end found her freedom. She just needs some love guys. That’s all she needs. Love literally helped her find her way and freedom. It’s such a powerful emotion. When you tell her, this song reminds you of her, she doesn’t know how to react. She’s not exactly clued up on pop culture, so you play it to her. She loves it. She suggests it represents both of you. You both heal and guide each other, when you’re together it’s a place of love, and a place you both found together. Who would have thought it?

· Kano.

Song: Lonely Together. Artist: Rita Ora featuring Avicii. Lyric:

Oh Lord, here we go

I might hate myself tomorrow but I'm on my way tonight At the bottom of the bottle, you're the poison in the wine And I know I can't change you and I, I won't change Let's be lonely together

A little less lonely together Reasoning: Okay. This was going to be a major shitpost. But I thought I’d use this to let people know why I don’t think Kano is like ‘marriage material’ on a serious note. At the bottom so you can skip. The lyrics sum up the relationship pretty well. Kano isn’t the type of guy to actually give us a fuck. You can’t change him, and you never will change him. But at the time you can both feel like you have someone, I guess. I was going to just put ‘fucked with an anchor’ because he can actually fuck himself with an anchor.

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