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slytherheign · 8 months

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GOLD RUSH | daniel ricciardo

PART 2/4 OF BROKEN GLASS AND HONEY SERIES.

CAN ALSO BE READ AS A ONE-SHOT.

PAIRINGS: daniel ricciardo x fem!reader, ex!max verstappen x fem!reader

WORD COUNT: 4.9k

SUMMARY: you don't like a gold rush, but you're attracted to someone everyone admires. when he stares at you with eyes like sinking ships on waters so inviting, will you jump in or not?

WARNINGS: cursing/swearing, people not giving a single fuck about the 3-month rule, mention of a hand injury, and allusions to a past unhealthy relationship. as i said, this can be read as a one-shot but there are references in this about the previous part of the series. so… you might want to read that. let me know if i missed any warnings. [⚠︎︎RATING: 16+]

AUTHOR’S NOTE: inspired by taylor swift’s song with the same title. also, based on my research, driver rooms are either located in a team motorhome or a floor in the driver’s garage. i literally watched paddock tours, garage tours, driver’s room tours BUT i still cannot find where in the japanese gp are the driver rooms located. so in this fic the driver’s room is a part of the garage, i imagined it on the 2nd floor. if you are reading the series i suggest rereading the last part because i changed some important details there like the timeline and stuff. again, huge thanks to my bestie @writingstoraes for helping me with the social media parts included here.

DESTINATION: Angst Avenue | GO TO SERIES MASTERLIST or GO BACK TO THE STATION.

All you did was accept his follow request on Instagram.

Then happened the small talks, the exchanging of numbers, the constant messages, and the little secret meetups.

And now here you were, meeting with his family as he introduced you to them.

What Max couldn’t do in almost 2 years, Daniel did in 2 months.

You remembered the date you accepted his follow request, July 19th. Only a few days before he would drive for AlphaTauri after Nyck de Vries got sacked. He then spent most of his summer break getting to know you. And when he sustained a break to a metacarpal on his left hand during the free practice 2 session at the Dutch Grand Prix, you stayed with him and it brought you even closer.

Today was September 19th. Exactly 2 months after you accepted his follow request and 2 days after the race in Singapore ended—the race where he returned after his injury. You were having dinner with his family. His mother told you stories about Daniel’s childhood. He was embarrassed at some of them, but you assured him that you thought the stories were cute. You smiled all throughout the meal. This was a new experience for you, getting introduced to someone’s family and getting treated like you were already one of their own.

You were used to being hidden. Things never used to be like this. For the longest time, it was always secret glances, touching behind closed doors, and kissing behind closed curtains. It was never talking, laughing, and getting along with his family.

He joined you when you took the initiative to wash the dishes. His mother didn’t want you to, but you insisted because it was all you could do in return for their warm welcome.

You worked as a team. You washed the plates with the dishwashing soap while Daniel rinsed them with water, silence never surrounding you for even a moment because he had so many stories to tell and you loved hearing every single one of them.

You weren’t even in a relationship yet. Sure, you went on a few dates, but there was still no label put on it. There were no kisses, no making out—just the occasional holding hands and Daniel never complained. He understood that you still weren’t prepared for another relationship and he was ready to wait.

“It’s late. We should probably rest,” he spoke up after you both washed your hands and dried them using a paper towel. You followed him into his childhood room.

“You take the bed, I’ll sleep on the floor,” he said.

“You don’t need to do that. This is your room.”

“No, please. I insist,” he smiled.

You took the bed, immediately smelling his scent on the sheets. From the paint to the posters and the pillows, everything about this room screamed Daniel Ricciardo and it gave you so much comfort.

But even with all the comfort his bed provided, you still couldn’t sleep. “Daniel?” you called his name.

“Hmm?” he replied, he couldn’t sleep as well.

“What were you thinking that day?” you asked quietly.

“What day?”

“When you requested to follow me on Instagram. You knew I was dating Max, right?”

“You already broke up that night.”

“Well, yeah. But you didn’t know that.”

“I actually did. Max told me when he was drunk and crying. I don’t think he remembers telling me, though.”

“Why did you want to follow me?”

“I was curious, I guess. I wanted to see who made Max cry. He’s one of my closest friends so I wanted to know who was this girl he was crying about. Your account was private but I was really curious about you, so I requested to follow you and…”

“And?” you urged him to continue.

“And I loved what I saw. You’re really beautiful.”

You blushed, covering your face with your hands even though he couldn’t see them anyway. You changed the topic. “You said Max was crying?”

“Yeah. But then he also drunkenly told me the reason why. And for what it’s worth, I’m on your side. You did the right thing. You deserve someone better.”

No one spoke for a moment. Your mind suddenly lingered on Max. He would never cry in public, not even in front of a friend. You knew that if he was sober, he would’ve never cried in front of Daniel. Max always said that he was raised to not show any sign of weakness to anyone, and he thought that crying was one of them. You were the only exception. With you, he wasn’t afraid of crying. Hell, he had broken down in front of you countless times and you were always there for him. And he loved that you were always there for him.

You pushed any further thought of him away from your head. He wasn’t yours anymore. You shouldn’t think about him. He wasn’t the one lying on the floor next to the bed you laid on now, it was Daniel.

“Dan?” you softly called his name.

He smiled at the new nickname. “Yeah?”

“Can you sleep next to me?”

“Are you sure?” he asked. From the way his voice sounded, you knew he was smiling.

“Please?” you said, moving yourself to make a space for him on the bed.

He immediately stood up to lie beside you. None of you felt any awkwardness, it was almost like it was always meant to be like this—you and him, beside each other.

You stared at the ceiling, not really feeling any sleepiness. How could you? When there were about a thousand thoughts circling themselves in your head?

Thoughts about your future, about Daniel, and about Max. You were just thankful you were privileged to be born into a family that owns a successful company in Monaco. And although you stayed in Menton, you still worked for your family business. At least, if the public discovered your possible future relationship with Daniel, you knew they couldn’t call you a gold digger because you already have plenty of gold just by yourself. That was one less thing to worry about.

Daniel couldn’t sleep either, knowing that you were still awake. He looked at you, following your line of vision until he stared at the ceiling as well.

“What’s on your mind?” he asked.

“A lot,” you chuckled.

“Do you want to talk about them?”

“No,” you shook your head. “At least not yet.”

“That’s okay. You wanna talk about something else?”

You thought for a moment before a sudden question entered your mind. “What’s your favorite memory that happened here in your room?”

“Well, I had my first make-out session here,” he laughed.

You playfully hit his shoulder. “Really?” you laughed. “That’s your favorite memory?”

“Why? Are you jealous because it wasn’t you?” he teased.

“I-”

“Just kidding,” he laughed again. “My favorite memory in this room was when my dad and I sat on this bed and had a deep talk about life. I still l remember every piece of advice he told me that day and I try my best to follow them.”

“Care to tell me one advice?” you said. “Who knows, maybe it’ll help me out at some point.”

“There was one he told me that really stuck to me the most,” he responded.

“What is it about?”

“About love.”

You glanced at him before looking back up again at the ceiling. “Tell me.”

“Give love time to flourish, but never time what flourishes the love.”

You let the words sink in. You turned to your side so you could face him, urging him to elaborate.

“You can fall in love with someone years after meeting them, at the same time, you can fall in love with someone after hours of meeting them. The length doesn’t matter if the trust is strong and the love is already stronger.

“You can get engaged after being with someone for 6 years, at the same time, you can get engaged after being with someone for 6 months.

“Time matters, yes. But the length is subjective. Love is not supposed to be a competition where time is the sole judge. Sometimes, longer doesn’t mean healthier, and shorter doesn’t make it insincere or artificial.”

He turned to his side so he could face you as well. You didn’t know what to reply and he didn’t expect you to. You just stared at each other’s eyes.

You had never paid attention to his eyes more than what you were doing now.

They were gleaming.

Twinkling.

Those eyes…

They were like sinking ships on waters so inviting.

You almost jumped in.

You cleared your throat, pulling away from his face that was just an inch away from yours. Funny, you didn’t even notice your faces were moving closer to each other.

“W-we should-uhh n-not,” you suggested.

“Y-yeah, we should not,” he agreed, smiling sheepishly.

The next race was not far ahead. You actually thought that after the race in Singapore, he would fly straight to Japan to get ready for the next grand prix. Instead, he took 3 days off just to set up a dinner with you and his family.

You didn’t know why he did it, because if you were him, you wouldn’t want to stress yourself this much just for you to meet his family. You weren’t demanding anything right now. If Max made you wait for almost 2 years, you could wait a couple more months for Daniel. After all, waiting was your game—and an expert at that.

It wasn’t a coincidence that Daniel introduced you to his family exactly 2 months after your first interaction. He knew about the waiting game Max made you play for almost 2 years. The number ‘2’ always being the highlight. So, he did what Max couldn’t do in just 2 months. He wanted to prove something. And from the look on your face the moment his parents hugged you, he knew his little plan worked.

It also wasn’t a coincidence that out of all the advice his father gave him, what he told you was the one about love and time being subjective. It was his sly way of saying that it didn’t matter how long you two have known each other. He was basically saying that Max may have had you longer but you should pick him. He had feelings for you, he wanted you to see that, and hopefully, return them.

Tomorrow, he needed to travel. Reality would return again, and the track needed him. As much as he wanted to spend more time with you, his car won’t drive itself. He had a thought.

“Do you want to go with me?” he asked suddenly. “To Suzuka.”

There was something in you that screamed to go back to your Menton apartment. Were you ready to go to a Grand Prix supporting a different driver than who you were used to supporting?

This was a second chance at everything, though. A chance to move on and a chance to have something new and someone new to look forward to.

“Okay,” you finally answered. “I’ll just have to do some work online for our family business. But as soon as I’m done, I’ll be in the stands cheering for you.”

He looked at you like you said some forbidden language. “The stands?” he asked you.

“Yeah, like with the other fans,” you shrugged.

“You know you’re not like the other fans, right? You can watch in the garage. If you’re not comfortable with other people seeing you, you can stay in my driver’s room and watch there. I’m sure there’s a monitor there.”

Again, this was a new experience for you. You didn’t know what to say.

“It would make me really happy knowing you’re in my room rather than in the stands. I could also show you the car and some stuff,” he continued.

Max never even invited you to walk the pitlane with him. And now here was Daniel, all ready and prepared to tour the entire paddock with you if you asked him to.

“That would be great,” you smiled.

“We better rest then, we have to travel tomorrow.”

JAPAN. SEPTEMBER 24, 2023.

The race was happening today.

For the last few days since you got here, you chose to stay at a hotel near where the circuit was. Daniel was staying at the same hotel just 2 floors above yours. He invited you to stay in his room but you refused because it would raise a lot of suspicion. You were still figuring out what you had with Daniel and staying in the same room as him would paint a picture that you were already in a relationship. You knew just how F1 fans could become detectives if they wanted to. They already knew your name when Daniel decided to follow you on Instagram. A lot of them tried to follow you, but you chose not to accept their follow requests.

You stayed in your hotel room on Friday and Saturday, watching the practice sessions and the qualifying in your room. You didn’t really have a choice, you had online work to do. You watched while you worked.

But not today.

Today, you were free. Today, you’d watch the Grand Prix in person.

Daniel visited you quite often in your room. He took advantage of you being in the same hotel as him. He always tried to convince you to get out, but you always said that you were busy finishing some work in advance so you could attend the Grand Prix with no worries about work. He stayed beside you while you worked until his duties called him and he needed to get to work as well.

But not today.

Today, he didn’t have to convince you anymore because you wouldn’t stay in your room. Today, you’d join him.

The plan was to walk behind him through the paddock with an AlphaTauri staff until you reached his garage where he would tour you and get you to meet the people working there. After that, he would lead you to his driver’s room where you would stay.

If it was entirely up to him, he wanted you to walk beside him instead of behind. But you refused again, because you knew walking beside him would launch something that you weren’t sure of yet.

You didn’t understand yourself. You broke up with Max because he kept you hidden. And now that you were with someone who wanted to show you off to the world, you’d rather stay hidden. You told yourself it was just because you and Daniel did not have a label in your relationship yet. You convinced him it was just because you were still figuring everything out.

And those reasons were reasonable and true.

But you missed one little fact.

There was something about being hidden that excited you.

Maybe being Max’s secret for a long time had convinced you that being hidden was an exciting thrill.

A knock on your door interrupted your thoughts. You finished fixing your hair immediately to open it. On the other side was a staff from AlphaTauri you had gotten close to for the past couple of days. You followed her downstairs where you met up with Daniel.

As soon as Daniel entered the paddock, all eyes were on him. The cameras turned and snapped pictures, your white cap barely hiding your face so you looked down and focused on the road most of the time. You should’ve brought sunglasses.

You heard people calling his name. Photographers, fans, people from the other teams—everyone. He displayed a huge smile on his face that everyone returned as soon as they got a sight of him. He waved at everyone, because let’s be honest, everyone knew him.

You saw everything as you walked behind him.

You saw how everyone admired him.

How everyone glorified everything he did.

Not everyone knew him personally, but everyone felt close to him. That was how admirable Daniel Ricciardo was. He leaves a mark on everyone. A mark so indelible and so perfect that no one could ever forget. No one would dare to forget.

It started to make you insecure.

It ached to even think of how perfect he was, of how peaceful he was. Like sunshine, he was a need for everyone. He presented a light that everyone would kill for just to have a taste of.

It started to make you jealous.

It was like he floated as he walked because everyone cheered on him. Like a rush of gold, he was a desire—a temptation.

And you didn’t like a gold rush.

You didn’t like anticipating your face in a red flush.

You didn’t like that anyone would die to feel his touch.

Everybody wanted him.

Halfway through your destination, the AlphaTauri staff you were walking with behind Daniel suddenly realized she left something important in her room. She had to go back to the hotel, leaving you no choice but to stand and walk beside Daniel.

And he loved it. He glanced at you every now and then, smiling and checking if you were alright. He brought his camera with him, he took some pictures of the surroundings while he walked. You didn’t know that most of those pictures were you looking around the place. You’ve been to multiple F1 races in your life, but this was your first time in a Grand Prix in Japan.

You entered the pitlane with him. And once again, photographers snapped pictures of him. You slowed down a bit, letting Daniel be on the front again and the only focus of the cameras. He instantly noticed the lack of your presence beside him, looking at you and smiling, telling you it was alright and that you could walk beside him again. You eyed the cameras, observing that their focus was not on Daniel anymore as another driver was walking towards your way. So, you went back beside him, smiling softly at him. He placed a hand on your back guiding you through the large amount of people coming and leaving the pitlane.

For a slight moment, you wondered how someone so perfect would want to be with someone so imperfect. How could someone as desired as gold would want to love someone who was the complete opposite?

You were nearing his garage, but before you could reach it, a pair of familiar eyes caught yours. You swore you felt your heart jump and the world stop for a second but you shook it off.

As it turned out, the other driver that was walking towards your way was none other than Max Verstappen.

He froze for a second but he looked away from you. He continued walking, pretending that nothing ever happened but you noticed that his jaw was clenched when he walked past you.

When you reached Daniel’s garage, he introduced you to his race engineer and mechanics. You exchanged greetings. Yuki Tsunoda joined the conversation as well when he took notice of the new addition that Daniel brought.

“So, what are you two?” Yuki asked. The other people in the garage were listening intently, curious as to what the answer was.

“Umm, we’re not really sure yet,” you answered honestly. “We’re still figuring it out.”

You looked at Daniel and he grinned, agreeing with your answer. Most of them shrugged at your response but they couldn’t hide the smirks they were showing when they each looked at Daniel.

Daniel led the way to his driver’s room, making sure you were settled in there before he eventually had to leave to do some things he needed to do.

You heard the sound of your phone notifying you that someone sent you a message. You checked it.

You rolled your eyes as you stared at your phone, slightly cursing at yourself because you swore not to reply to any of his texts anymore. His last texts were from the night he tried to convince you to stay with him—the last time you talked to him in person. You didn’t even notice yourself typing a reply until you already sent it.

You knew nothing would stop Max from doing what he wanted to do. What Max Verstappen wants, Max Verstappen gets.

You just placed your phone in your pocket and hoped that whatever kind of talk they would have would not affect the race later.

The race would start at 1:00 p.m., and even at 9:17 a.m., you could already feel how busy everyone was. Daniel entered the room, immediately sitting next to you on the couch and hugging you close. He rested his head on your lap and you played with his hair, twirling his already curly hair with your fingers. You stayed like that for a while, you were sure Daniel had already fallen asleep. You chuckled, pulling your phone from your pocket and snapping a cute picture of him.

You weren’t sure how many minutes had passed. You tried taking a nap but your excitement for today was too much for even a minute of sleep to consume you. So, you just stared at Daniel and resumed playing with his hair with one hand, while the other scrolled through Twitter on your phone.

And there it was. The speculations were already starting. You had no idea how they even knew it was you from just a side view of your body.

But for the first time, you didn’t care.

You scrolled even more, reading almost every comment about the picture of you and Daniel.

Every comment and reply you saw was positive, not even one negative comment about him. People loved him and you understood them. What’s there not to love about him?

Even you were not an exception. You cared for him. You were attracted to someone everyone admired.

Everybody wondered what it would be like to love him.

And you wondered the same.

Daniel’s phone that was atop the coffee table made a noise, informing him that someone had texted. He was still lying on the couch with his head on your lap when he got woken up by the notification and took his phone from the table. He immediately sat up when he saw who it was.

You sneaked a glance and saw that it was Max.

They were texting back and forth and since Daniel’s phone was not on silent, you heard every tap he made on his keyboard. He was typing roughly, his phone shaking just by the force of his typing. His jaw was clenched and his eyebrows were knitted.

He was angry.

And you knew why. You wanted the couch you were sitting on right now to eat you alive.

Minutes later, someone knocked on the door, saying something about a meeting he needed to present for. You knew he wasn’t talking to Max anymore because he had stopped typing. But still, he stared at the phone with so much hatred.

You had never seen Daniel this angry before. You couldn’t help but ask Max what he said.

But of course, Max told you nothing.

Daniel stood up suddenly, his stance telling you he was still pissed off. But before he could fully leave the room, he looked at you as if he was asking for your permission if he could leave. You nodded in response, smiling to assure him that you were going to be fine.

You didn’t dare to know how their conversation went anymore.

“It’s lights out and away we go!” you heard Crofty announce. And as soon as he said it, 20 sensational drivers in their cars fought for positions.

You actually left Daniel's room before the race started, deciding to watch from the back of the main garage with the other AlphaTauri guests. You didn’t need to hide anyway because people already knew you. And besides, the cameras were focused on the race.

53 laps later, Daniel finished P9 which was astonishing given that he was driving an AlphaTauri. Because let’s be honest, the team and their cars aren't exactly built to win a championship.

You knew he had media duties to do after the race so you didn’t expect him to go back immediately. You returned to his room, watching the post-race interviews while waiting for him. You immediately focused on the screen as soon as it was his turn.

“P9, huh? What an astonishing drive,” a Sky reporter praised him.

“Well, yeah,” he chuckled. “Thank you. I had a lot more motivation today and I made sure to project it on track.”

You blushed.

The reporter asked him questions about the pace, what he felt about the race and the usual stuff. All of them he answered with a smile on his face. Even in his sweaty conditions, he looked gorgeous.

What must it be like to grow up that beautiful?

His hair was falling into place like dominoes.

And once again you questioned just how on earth this man was a real person.

Back in the hotel, with your phone in your pocket, you were helping Daniel pack his suitcases in his room after you already packed yours.

He was taking a much-needed shower while you insisted on packing his belongings for him. God knew how tired he was after the race and you had a lot of free time on your hands. Even if he didn’t want you to do it for him, you still did it.

Daniel came out of the bathroom already dressed and immediately proceeded to help you pack. “Have you seen my headphones?” he asked.

“No, and I haven’t packed it yet,” you answered. “Where did you last remember using it?”

“I think it’s in your room.”

“Okay, I’ll check it,” you got ready to leave before he stopped you.

“You want me to come with you?” he asked.

“No, but thanks,” you smiled. “Just continue packing so we’ll finish faster.”

Moments later, you discovered that his headphones were indeed in your room. You quickly retrieved it and made your way back to his.

As you were about to open Daniel’s door, the room beside him opened and someone entered the hallway. You made the mistake of looking at the person because it was Max. You made eye contact for the second time that day and he seemed stuck on the floor.

He frowned, eyeing you and the room you were about to enter. You saw his confusion turn into realization when he remembered who the person staying in that room was. And then, he scoffed. He walked past you again, brushing his shoulder with yours as he went straight to the elevator.

You sighed, opening the door and seeing how Daniel already finished packing most of his belongings.

“I found it,” you said, handing him the headphones. He stood up from his position, getting the item from your hand before tossing it on the bed and caging you with his arms.

“My God, what would I do without you?” he said, rocking you back and forth as he hugged you.

You looked up to meet his eyes. “I don’t know, probably lose half of your things,” you laughed as he released you from his arms. “Now, where were we?” you asked, looking over all the suitcases on the floor.

“I finished most of it, I’m sure it’ll take me only 5 minutes to finish the rest.”

“Okay, you do that. I’ll check the other bags if you’ve forgotten something again.”

Daniel did in fact finish the rest in only 5 minutes. He stood up, stretching his body after the crouching he had to do while he was packing.

You couldn’t help but look at him. He was wearing a simple white t-shirt and his back was facing you. You saw how the muscles on his arms and back flexed while he stretched.

Suddenly, everything was in slow motion.

You didn't like slow motion double vision in rose blush.

You didn’t like that falling felt like flying 'til the bone crush.

Everybody wanted him.

And you didn’t like that you didn’t wonder the same anymore.

Because unlike them, you didn’t need to wonder. You already loved him.

You didn’t like a gold rush.

But for him, you would.

You stood up, walking towards him until you were in front of him. He faced you, confused as to what you had to say.

But you didn’t say anything.

Instead, you placed your hands on his cheeks and you caressed them gently.

His eyes started doing the same thing they did back when you spent the night in his childhood room and your heart started beating faster than ever.

They were gleaming.

Twinkling.

Those eyes…

They were like sinking ships on waters so inviting.

So, you jumped in.

You pulled his face close to you, closing the distance with a passionate kiss. He was shocked at first, not because he didn’t want it but because he didn’t expect it. He was ready for you anytime, he was just waiting for the time you would tell him that you felt the same.

And instead of telling him, you showed him.

With a kiss, you made him feel.

Daniel reciprocated the kiss and held you closer.

From that moment on, he won.

Or at least he thought he did.

We all know Max Verstappen was a fierce competitor.

He kissed your forehead when he pulled away. Then, he placed a soft peck on both sides of your cheeks before pressing his hands softly on them. You looked at him lovingly.

Your phone in your pocket buzzed from someone messaging you but you were too busy admiring Daniel that you didn’t even pay attention to it.

Only time would tell how those two sets of three little words would affect you.

SLYTHERHEIGN TAGLIST: @writingstoraes @joshiiieeenesx

FORMULA ONE TAGLIST: @dreamingofautopia @lpab @matildrry

message me or comment down below if you want to be added to my taglist! specify if you want to be added to my main (slytherheign) taglist where i’ll tag you in everything i publish in the future or just the formula one taglist.

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thefrontofmymind · 8 months

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nothing's changed (teacher!ross x teacher!reader)

a/n: here she is! this was like the longest oneshot i think ive ever written. i would like to thank @hypersonic04 and @abiiors for letting me talk at them about this, i needed the encouragement.

WC: 7.1k

masterlist

The music in the crowded club was overbearing. You were never one for parties in your teenage years, and the same could be said for your two years so far at university. You could hardly think straight.

Shuffling between the hoards of people–as drunk as you wish you were, just so you could loosen up just a little–balancing the drinks for yourself, your flatmate, and her newest boyfriend. You quickly placed them on the table your group had set up shop at, the three glasses were moments away from slipping between your fingers.

“Last drink here, is that alright?” You flatmate, Ellie, yelled into your ear.

You nodded.

“Okay.” She took a sip of her vodka, lime and soda. “Some of Jack’s friends are at a bar like two minutes away, we were gonna link up with them for a while.”

You just nodded again. You were always going along with her, and her boyfriends’, plans. Ellie was always so much more social than you. You met the first week of your first semester at a Fresher’s party and you’d just clung on since then.

For you, university was a means to an end, not for fun–because it was always more stressful than fun for you. The end in question; a fulfilled life. Living in a comfortable life with a job that you didn’t have to love, just not hate, in a flat that didn’t have to be the fanciest, just not the dingiest, in a historical city with good enough public transport.

You downed your drink as fast as you could, just itching to get back to your flat to have a nice shower and to lay in your fresh sheets.

It was colder outside than what you remembered it being like only an hour ago, the wind had picked up and went right through the denim jacket that was wrapped tightly around you.

The three of you walked to the next bar. Jack had an arm around Ellie, pulling her into his side to keep her warm. You walked alone.

“So what are these friends like, then?” You asked on the way.

“They’re so nice! You’ll love them!” Ellie said excitedly. Obviously the four drinks she had at the last club had caught up to her.

“They’re good blokes,” Jack answered. “You’ll like ‘em, I think, a lot of them are into music stuff so you’ll get on with them.”

Pretty much the only thing Jack seemed to know about you was that you were studying music teaching, so if some of his friends–who you assumed would be just as…’lad-ish’ as him–had the same interests as you, perhaps this wouldn’t be a total drag of a night. Who knows, maybe you could even get one interesting conversation out of it.

You got through quite quickly, being a group of mostly women, the security guards ushered you three right in. This bar was a bit calmer; not as packed and they were playing music that was more than just electronic beeps over and over again.

Jack pointed out a group huddled in the corner. Probably around 10 people, all laughing with each other.

After multiple introductions of “I’m Ellie’s flatmate” you could finally get to the bar and get another drink. As you were waiting, a figure walked to stand beside you. One of the guys you’d just met, but for the life of you, you couldn’t remember his name in the blur of everyone you’d just met. …Ron? No that’s not right…Chris?

He smiled at you politely. It was only then that you realised you’d just been staring at his face with your eyebrows furrowed in thought. You quickly snapped out of it, focussing your gaze on the bartender who was slowly making her way through the hoard around you.

“So I didn’t catch it…what are you studying?” He asked.

“Music teaching, focusing on secondary school,” you answered.

“That’s cool,” he said. “I’m studying teaching too, history.”

“Are you a second year?”

“No, third. You?”

“Second.”

“Right…that’s why you asked me if I was second…” He said, seemingly mostly to himself. “I’m in a band though.”

“Oh! Really?” You asked with a smile.

Your drink was finally handed to you, but you stood at the bar and waited for…Ryan? To order.

“Yeah, with Matty and Adam over there…” He pointed to the group, though you had no way of knowing which of them was Matty and which was Adam. “I’m the bassist.”

“Always the coolest instrument!” You commented.

Once he’d gotten his pint, you both walked back over to the booth the group was currently occupying. You were glad it was more of a ‘sit down and drink and talk’ kind of bar and not a ‘dance with sweaty strangers in the dark’ kind of one. The man slid onto the end of the booth, before shoving the person next to him to shuffle over, then patting the newly made spot next to him. You sat down. It wasn’t a lot of room, but when he noticed, he kept an arm around your waist to keep you from slipping. The only thing you could think was just how comfortable it all felt.

“So this is Matty, the-uh-singer,” he said pointing to the guy next to him with square-framed glasses and a mop of dark hair on top of his head. A stark contrast from the buzzcut of the man with the arm around you.

“Oh c’mon I’m more than just the singer, Ross!” Ross! It was right on the tip of your tongue!

You barely even thought of Ellie, your safety, the rest of the night. You drank and chatted with Ross and you didn’t think you’d ever enjoyed someone’s company as much as his. Somehow, you both just understood each other, you agreed on everything.

The clock ticked on and the group began to get thinner and thinner. Ellie crouched next to you at your spot in the booth around 3.

“We were thinking of going home,” she said. You didn’t want to leave. You didn’t want to go back to being lonely and be forced to listen to Ellie and Jack have sex through the wall for the thousandth time. She saw your face. “Please! My feet are killing me and I just want to go home!”

“I’ll be happy to take you home if you don’t want to leave yet?” Ross piped in, looking at you.

You nodded without even thinking.

“Okay!” Ellie said. “See you later!”

Her and Jack were out the door in seconds flat, leaving you now with a group of only four strangers. Well, three strangers and Ross.

You joined in the conversation between the group for a while, but it was getting late and you were starting to get tired. You leant more into Ross, resting your head on his shoulder.

“Want me to take you home?” He whispered to you–now possible with just the last stragglers left in the bar.

You groaned. “Those two are probably fucking, I really don’t want to walk into that.”

He let out a small chuckle. “Well, do you want to come back to mine then?”

You knew what he meant with the question. And it was something you didn’t have to ponder on much at all.

“Yeah, let’s go.”

After saying your ‘goodbye’s and ‘it was great to meet you’s to the group, you and Ross left, his hands never leaving your waist as you let him out onto the street.

“It’s just down this way,” he said, nodding his head to further up the now pretty deserted street. “Couple minutes.”

On any other night, you would’ve been scared to walk around the city at night, but with Ross you just felt so safe. With a constant grip on your hand as you both walked, you never felt unsupported.

His flat was small–expected with him being a student like yourself. You noted the bass sitting on a stand in his living room, and the teetering stack of textbooks next to it.

“Do you want some tea or something?” He asked, moving to his kitchen to click the kettle on and get a bottle of milk out of the fridge. “I also have coffee if you want, but-y’know-it’s a bit late.”

“Tea sounds good,” you answered. “With two sugars, please?”

“Of course,” he said.

As he made the tea, you got comfortable on his sofa–taking off your trainers and settling into the corner of it. You began to daze out, your eyelids were getting heavier and heavier. You didn’t even notice them shut completely until you heard a light clank of Ross placing the two mugs on the coffee table. You jumped awake.

“Sorry! Didn’t mean to wake you!” He said.

You moved your legs from taking up the whole sofa so he could sit. Without words he pulled your feet onto his lap, like it was the most natural position in the world.

“I wasn’t asleep!”

“No, you’re right,” he answered. “Snoring with your eyes shut is always the make of someone wide awake.”

“Oh God, was I snoring?” You suddenly felt so insecure. Sure, you felt so comfortable with Ross but you still only met him a few hours prior, it wasn’t time for you to be so…honest.

“A little,” Ross said. “More like little snorts, it was cute.”

You couldn’t help but blush a little. “You’ll need to play me a song one time.” You motioned to the teal bass on the other side of the room.

“Oh, I don’t know…Bass lines are so boring, they're like nothing.”

“Hello? You’re talking to a music student here!” You laughed. “If anyone would appreciate bass, it’s me.”

“One day then…” He grinned.

Conversation was just so easy. Even in your exhausted half-asleep state, you were never bored and it all just flowed so easily. Somehow talking to Ross–now alone–woke you up.

You weren’t sure when it happened, but somehow, you’d scooched down the whole length of the sofa, and were perched in Ross’ lap, wrapped in his arms.

Your faces were so close together, it would’ve been weird if you didn’t kiss him. And boy, were you glad you did. You've watched so many movies throughout your life where they talk about fireworks with the perfect kiss, and you thought it was just a movie cliche, until now. His kiss was warm, but somehow at the same time, like a breeze of fresh air. There was no awkward shuffling around, you both just fit together so well.

You felt his tongue swipe across your lips, you opened them. As the kiss got deeper and deeper, you both got more and more handsy–roaming around each others’ bodies, discovering every curve and outline of each other.

Eventually you had to part for a proper breath, though you didn’t stray far, keeping your forehead resting against his.

“Hi,” you said once you’d both opened your eyes again.

“Hi,” he chuckled.

You wanted to go further, you really did, but fatigue was hitting all your muscles at once, you couldn’t go on.

“I’m sorry…I’m really tired,” you said.

“Don’t apologise, it’s okay,” Ross answered. “Do you want to just go to bed here?”

You nodded. “Do you have like a shirt or something I could change into?”

“Yeah, of course.”

It felt like when you were a kid after a long summer day, so exhausted and yearning for the comfort of rest. Ross’ bed welcomed you well, so cosy and soft you practically sank into it.

You’d never gotten to sleep easier than that night, in the arms of a stranger who you felt like you’d known forever.

~~~

You thought after you were out of school, the end of summer wouldn’t affect you as much. Though you didn’t take into account that the end of summer would mean the start of your working year.

For some reason you were nervous–a new school with new students and new coworkers to meet, but that wasn’t something foreign to you. It was your sixth school, your second as a full time teacher. This time you were replacing a retiree, big shoes to fill.

You walked through the hall that would take you to your class, a route you took a couple times during the summer to prep the room and make sure you knew the layout just a little–though the ladies in the reception office were kind enough to give you a printout of a map of the school, you never were all that great with anything visual.

You got there early, there was a staff meeting before the start of the day and you wouldn’t miss it for the world. After setting up the room for your first class, Year 9’s, you headed off. You weren’t alone in the route, a woman about your age came out of the room next to yours.

“You must be the new music teacher!” She said. “I’m Lou, drama teacher.”

After introducing yourself, you both walked together. You couldn’t quite hide your nerves, you’d never been able to hide any emotion well.

“Don’t be nervous, alright?” She placed a reassuring hand on your forearm. “After the old bag Higgins before you, the bar could not be any lower.”

“So I won’t be hazed or anything?” You joked.

“God, no! Some of us threw a party the day he announced his retirement!”

You smiled. At least now some of your fears were alleviated.

But just as some fear left you, your blood ran cold with shock as you walked into the staff room. Standing at the coffee machine, was the man you hadn’t seen since you were in university, the man that still had the power to shatter your heart into a million pieces now over a decade after you last spoke. Ross.

He was bigger–burlier–than before. And his hair was long, tied up neatly in a small bun on the crown of his head. You were surprised at how he pretty much looked the exact same, just different. You could tell his skin had seen a good handful of sunny days, and as he squinted to look at the screen of the fancy coffee machine, you could see the lines on the corners of his eyes that showed a decade full of smiles and laughter.

Lou stared at you, as you stared at him. You were frozen in place, silent as a church mouse. Once the new figure had caught his eye, he saw you.

“Hi…” He said. And seemingly without thinking, his feet brought him to stand in front of you and his arms independently wrapped you in a hug–a hug you hadn’t had in years.

“It’s been forever!” You squeezed him as tight as you could.

In the elation you felt, you realised that a coworker who you’d only known for about five minutes was still standing next to you two.

“So you know each other then?” She asked.

“We went to uni together!” Ross grinned. How you missed his smile.

The headmistress, Janine–your boss–entered the staff room.

“I see you’re getting to know the rest of the team,” she said, sternly.

“Old friends catching up, Janine,” Ross answered.

The whole staff sat down at the tables around the room as Janine called to attention. You panicked for a second–suddenly you were back to worrying about who to sit with–until Ross pulled a chair next to the one he’d settled in.

~~~

You woke up to glaring sunlight, and an unfamiliar bed. You quickly put the pieces together from the night before; the bar, and Ross, and his flat.

You could hear his TV on through the closed bedroom door. You didn’t know why you were trying to be quiet, maybe somehow Ross forgot about your existence and you didn’t want to frighten him. Opening the door, you were met with the sight of Ross on the sofa, watching an old episode of Gavin And Stacey.

“Good morning,” you said, all gravelly.

“Morning.”

He didn’t look at all ill at ease, unlike you. He was ever so relaxed lounging on the sofa with his legs taking up the whole length of it.

“Can I sit?” You asked.

He patted his lap. It was a bold move, but one that you wouldn’t say no to. You laid on top of him on the sofa, shuffling a little to get comfortable. You instantly felt warmer as he held you.

“I’m sorry about last night?” You said.

“What d’you mean?”

“Like you bringing me here and then us not…you know.”

“Oh, don’t apologise,” he scoffed. “I didn’t…ask for it.”

“Well you kind of did…”

“I was doing a favour for a friend,” he answered. “You needed a place to stay, and I had a place.”

“So we’re friends then…” You said–more to yourself than to Ross.

“If you want to be.” You felt his hand on the small of your back grip like the tiniest bit tighter.

“I don’t know if I could be just a friend,” You said. “But I’m not…ready to be more than a friend.”

“I’m sure we could figure out an arrangement.”

And you kissed him. Even with the morning breath and the awkward angle, it had as much heat and fire as you kiss from the night before. This was definitely something you couldn’t give up.

~~~

Ross was kind enough to walk you back to your class. ‘In case you get lost’ was his reasoning–not that you complained. You two got right back into the rhythm of the past, talking like you hadn’t spent years desperately not trying to look each other up to see what you both were up to.

It was kind of strange. It was like you’d been transported back to being your nineteen year old self again, anxiety and all. Though like then, simply Ross’ presence was enough to calm you. It was muscle memory, walking close enough to him to feel the warmth off his skin and keeping the pace to keep up with him.

Saying goodbye to him at your door, it was hard to not ask him to stay–like old times, though now he really couldn’t stay, and no badgering and begging would be able to convince him.

You just couldn’t fathom your luck. Out of thousands of schools you could’ve worked at, the one that hired you was the one he worked at. You thought you would never see him again after…everything. You didn’t realise that you were very well close to losing that vivid memory of his face, his smile, the joy he brought to a room.

Your morning lessons were spent trying not to think of him. You were working, you had to focus. Your students weren’t nearly as intimidating as you thought they would be, it seems they all had the same sentiment for your predecessor as your coworkers had.

And by lunchtime, you already had a few favourites. A group of Year 10s who sat at the very front of the room and constantly asked you questions about yourself instead of the material you were teaching–Hayley, Daniel and Lily. You told them a little; where you grew up, the music you liked as a teenager, and you may have let it slip that you knew a teacher, though you managed to catch yourself before letting them in on who. You didn’t quite know how to approach all this, you didn’t know quite what you could say. You should talk to Ross first, it won’t be an easy conversation but it has to be talked out.

You didn’t have to wait long, because as you sat at the desk in your classroom, fiddling with the salad you brought from home while going over your lesson plans, you heard a knock on the door.

“Yes?” You said, trying to put on your best ‘teacher voice’.

“It’s me.” A voice you recognised very well.

Ross stepped into your classroom–oh so gently, as if his steps had the capability to break the floorboards. He took a seat at the desk closest to you.

“So how’s everything so far?” He asked. “No one giving you trouble?”

“Couldn’t ask for better pupils,” you answered with a smile.

“Good…I’d have to tell them off otherwise.”

You laughed. “I wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of that!”

“Oh c’mon you know I’m not scary…” He leant in to whisper to you. “Just don’t tell all them.”

You were surprised at just how natural it all came back to the two of you, falling back into that groove. You had a great sense of relief, gaining more and more with each playful quip.

Though soon enough you heard the bell that meant the end of lunchtime, and Ross had to go back to his classroom.

“So I’ll see you, then,” you said to him.

“Yeah, coworker,” he smiled.

~~~

You got into a routine with Ross. You acted like friends most of the time, but with enough liquor or loneliness running through you, you couldn’t keep your hands off each other. You loved the exhilaration of sneaking away on nights out with your amalgamation of friends to get up to filthy things at whoever’s flat was closer–or a public bathroom or two if it was just too far of a trek.

All your friends pretended not to notice your looks at each other, not because they disapproved, it just wasn’t something you two either spoke about–even when Ross would spend the night at your flat and Ellie would get a fright in the morning seeing him making two cups of tea in the kitchen. It was more like an open secret, something people only knew about if they really paid attention.

You both still went on dates with other people, that was part of the appeal. You only wanted flings, and it seemed that no one else was on the same page as you–apart from Ross. And it worked the other way too, you knew Ross would go on just as many first dates as you, though he never really divulged to you like you did to him. You worried he didn’t want to hurt your feelings–like you could have your feelings hurt…

You were never as happy when you weren’t with him, sweaty and basking in the afterglow. You told each other everything, all your secrets, all your stories from your childhoods, everything you hoped for in the future. Something with the two of you just fit, call it fate or whatever else you believe in, but somehow you met at just the right time for it all to come together perfectly. Well, almost perfectly.

“Did you have any boyfriends when you were in school?” He asked one morning when you both had nowhere to be and made yourselves very comfortable in his bed.

“Jealous?” You laughed.

“Just making conversation…” He explained with a smile.

“There was one, Will, he was nice…” You answered. “And no one else of much importance.”

“Well what made him so important?” Ross asked.

“He was my first boyfriend, my first love, you know?”

Ross sighed. “Not really, not been in love before.”

“Really? Not ever?” You asked in disbelief.

“I guess I’ve just been too busy for it,” he answered.

You felt bad. As much as love had hurt you, it was a good kind of hurt, the kind you need in your life.

“It’s not that bad,” he continued. “I don’t lead a totally sad life.”

“I know…”

~~~

Your spine felt like jelly as you cleaned up your classroom after the end of the school day on your first Friday. A couple of the teachers you’d gotten close with had planned a little night out to welcome you–Ross included–and as much as you appreciated the gesture, nights out were never really your thing. You wondered if Ross told them, you wondered if they knew at all about your history. Though he was never much one for confrontation, that must’ve been it.

You were going to get a ride with Lou. You realised you both lived just a street away from each other and you really didn’t feel like forking out your entire life savings for one Uber ride. She’d become a sort of guardian angel for you–showing you the ropes in your first week. You had Ross as well, and he helped when he could, but you pretty much resided on opposite sides of the school and you couldn’t exactly go all the way to him every time you had a question or query. You’d gotten comfortable with your coworkers at school but not out of that very controlled environment, a night out would show the real you.

You’d chewed the ends of your fingers raw once you’d gotten home to shower and get properly ready. You were very quickly going into a spiral. What if I say something wrong? What if I get too drunk? What if I don’t get drunk enough and don’t enjoy myself? What if Ross has told them everything?

You checked your phone as you were waiting for your post-shower skincare to sink in. There was a text from Lou just to confirm your address and then another text from a contact you haven’t seen for years.

looking forward to tonight! see you there! -Ross

It took you by surprise. Not the message, itself, but the notion that he would have to sign off on a text, otherwise you wouldn’t know who it was. You smiled at the thought of him worrying that after all these years you’d deleted his number from your phone, and then when you realised he had kept your number just as long. You typed a reply.

you know me! buzzing for it! (no really, you know me…i’m giving it a go)

A bubble popped up immediately, showing he was typing. Like touching a hot pan, you instinctively threw your phone onto your bed the second you saw it. After a minute or so you looked at your phone again. No notifications. Must’ve been a mistake, you thought.

You got ready for the night. You hadn’t worn this much makeup in ages, but you thought for a special night, you should make the effort.

Lou was at your doorstep with an Uber in tow at 7 o’clock on the dot. You’d been so frantic with getting ready for the night and feeding your cat, Benny, and giving him enough attention to last him until you’d get home, you hadn’t checked your phone after that dreaded but brief conversation with Ross. You saw a text from him sent an hour after your last message.

good to know nothings changed!

With a yell of “bye, Benny!” you left with Lou.

“So now that we’re not working…” She started. “Can you tell me how you and Ross…know each other?”

You let out an awkward laugh. You did tell her that you couldn’t talk about it at school, you had the fear of God in you that a student could walk by at any moment and hear it all. But still, you hadn’t spoken to Ross about it, you didn’t want to overstep and embarrass him.

“We knew each other during uni,” you answered.

“Well I already knew that!” She said–a little too loud.

You laughed with her. “What has he told you?”

“That you two were friends…But I’m not stupid, I saw the way you two looked at each other.”

“It’s not my place to tell you everything.”

“So there is a story there!” She yelled.

You couldn’t help but laugh again, though not without a tinge of fear that that was enough for her to know everything in some psychic link between the two of you that you were unaware of.

The pub wasn’t far, you arrived at the curb in about fifteen minutes. Lou checked her phone as you both climbed out of the modern sedan.

“I got messages from Tracy and Nathan, they’re already here, and…Leanne isn’t far away.” She said. Upper English, Social Studies, and Phys Ed, respectively. You hadn’t met a single teacher so far who you didn’t like, everyone was so welcoming to you. Janine, the headmistress and your boss, on the other hand…It wasn’t that she didn’t like you, you figured she just liked things done a certain way and you didn’t exactly fit the mould there.

It was pretty busy inside–not a surprise for 7 o’clock on a Friday night–but it didn’t take you long to see the group who all excitedly yelled their ‘hello’s to you. You quickly got settled with a drink in the booth that Tracy was lucky enough to snag in the lively pub. Soon the group got bigger and bigger. Still, you had yet to see the man who could not stop invading your mind.

By 9:30, you were yearning to see him–in all his newly grown-up glory.

At ten, you had become resigned to the fact that he was just not going to show up. All your worry and effort was for nothing. You didn’t think he would be like this, he was never like this. After his texts, and then his resounding absence, you truly didn’t know what he was getting at. You just wanted to hole up in your bed and try to forget this whole embarrassing ordeal.

“I think I’m gonna head home,” you said to Lou–admittedly slurring a little, time seemed to pass quicker, the more drinks you had.

“Would you mind going alone? I don’t-I’m not ready to leave just yet,” she answered, just as intelligible as you.

“No worries.” You pulled up the Uber app on your phone as you stepped out of the pub. You pulled your jacket closer to your body as a shiver ran up your spine, it was just beginning to get colder, though you could only really tell during the later hours.

The street was busy, people walking–or stumbling–by you, trying to find the next bar in their nightly crawl. Somehow, you got caught between two people at the most perfect–or imperfect–time. You tripped on one passerby’s foot and saw the pavement get shakily closer.

Until two firm hands caught you by your shoulders.

“You alright, darling?” You could recognise that voice anywhere.

“Hi,” you said, finally looking up at Ross. There was a panicked look in his eye. “Yeah, you?”

“Yeah, I’m good,” he answered. You steadied yourself on your feet and you both floated closer to the front of the pub you were just in to avoid the foot traffic. “Sorry I’m late, Matty–you remember Matty?–his girlfriend broke up with him the other week and he’s been having a hard time, there was a crisis.”

You breathed a sigh of relief. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to come, he couldn’t.

“It’s all good,” you grinned. “I was actually just about to head off though…Tired.”

He let out a knowing chuckle. “Well could I come home with you?” He saw your eyes widen for just a second. “I mean, I was only coming to catch up with you…Pretty hard to do if you’re not there…”

“I��ve just ordered an Uber,” you said without even thinking. Not like you had to think, the answer would always be a ‘yes’.

You couldn’t stop looking at him while you waited for the car. He looked more confident than when you’d seen him last, like he was easily carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders–and was happy to do so. You barely even noticed that your hand was in his until he squeezed it to get your attention.

“You alright?” He asked. “With all this?”

You didn’t quite know what he meant. With the job, this night out, or him. But the answer was the same for all of the above. You nodded. He smiled, and in an act that felt as natural as breathing, he brought your hands up to his lips to place a kiss on the back of your much-too-cold hand. It was the kind of kiss you’d see with a couple married for decades, nothing too passionate but with just enough love–that frightened you just a little, if you were completely honest.

The ride was silent. You daren’t utter a word for fear that Ross would know how you felt about his warm palm planted firmly on your thigh.

At your flat, you made tea for the two of you. You couldn’t help but reminisce on the first night you knew him, when he brought you back to his tiny flat in the middle of Manchester and was kind enough to be your friend. It was strange how your life seemed so cyclical.

It was quite cold in your flat, you always worried if you turned on the heating when you were out that Benny would get too hot. Speaking of the dark grey feline, you noticed him jump when you came home not alone, he quickly retreated to his cat tree in the corner of your living space. You just laughed and told Ross that he did that with everyone he didn’t know.

You handed Ross his cup of tea–no sugar with just a splash of milk and eye-wateringly strong–and sat down on the sofa next to him.

You were transported to that night in your second year of uni, the night you started your friendship with Ross. A night when you could’ve been swallowed whole by your loneliness, but were instead embraced by a stranger who you very much grew to…like. A lot…

“So…” You sighed once you were comfortable. “How’s Matty doing?”

“He’s alright…Just…you remember what he’s like…” He answered.

You laughed. “Always…”

“He’s alright though…Just has his moments…” He chuckled. “And then I told him I was going to see you and he got excited.”

“What? And you weren’t excited to see me?” There was a sudden streak of courage running through you.

“I’m always happy to see you, love.” He was laughing, but you both knew there was truth in his statement.

“Good,” you smiled. “Got a bit upset when I thought you wouldn’t show.”

It suddenly dawned on you the glaringly obvious fact that instantly snapped you out of whatever trance you were in. You were coworkers. You had to be professional, even if it was him.

Now his smile–one you could just about read as giddy–made your heart drop into your stomach. His eyes were so soft, a glaze over them–not from tears, just admiration for who he was looking at. Your smile faltered. Ross noticed.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, sounding very serious.

“I…” You didn’t quite know how to phrase it. “We can’t…It’s not…professional.”

He sighed, then stayed silent for a moment.

“It’s not that I wouldn’t want to,” you continued. “But if anyone found out…it would be hell.”

“Well then how about we just don’t tell anyone?” He asked quickly.

The question was enough for your body–independently from your mind–to launch across the sofa and into Ross’ lap. You placed a gentle hand on his cheek. You weren’t used to his now-thicker beard, it was much smoother and softer than his old stubble.

Kissing him was like returning back to your childhood home after years of not visiting. You still knew him so well–his taste and the softness of his lips, it was so familiar to you.

As you deepened the kiss, your tongues now well into exploring the familiar landscapes of each other’s lips, your hand that was so firmly planted on his cheek travelled further back. On some kind of instinct your fingers laced through the hair at the back of his neck, tugging just a little on the roots. Ross let out a deep moan into your mouth, you couldn’t help but grin a little into the kiss. Duly noted.

~~~

It was the first day of spring when you finally had the realisation that sent a shock down your spine. As the flower buds began to grow it became apparent that you only had a couple short months before Ross would graduate. You’d had conversations back when the only way to get warm was to be in his embrace, his plan was London. A city with more job opportunities than you knew what to do with.

It was like all of a sudden you were dreading seeing him, like you were putting off the last time. You couldn’t admit it to yourself then, but you knew that his impending departure would be heartbreaking.

After three days of radio silence, you found him sitting on the curb in front of your building. You were frozen in your spot.

“Sorry, I know this is kinda weird of me,” he said, standing up from his place on the concrete. “You haven’t answered my texts, I got worried.”

Your heart both warmed, and shattered even more at the same time. It was getting dark, and it wasn’t quite the time of year for warmer nights yet.

“Sorry, I’ve been…” You couldn’t quite think of an end to that sentence. You let him into the flat with you.

Ellie was out for the night, so you planned for a night alone–a feast for one in the reusable bag you placed on the kitchen counter. Ross slid off his shoes at the door–something he always did–and got comfortable on your sofa. As you put away the groceries you heard your TV turn on the flicking of switching channels. There was something so domestic about it. You let yourself daydream for a moment that this could be your life if you so pleased, putting away groceries while Ross watched TV. You snapped out of the fantasy when he spoke.

“GoldenEye is on!” He called out to you. You’d had many conversations about your favourite movies as kids, and all the James Bond movies were his–as well as the video game.

You floated to the sofa after everything was safely in its place. You’d watched the latter half of the film all the way to the end credits without even realising. Somewhere along the way, you’d gotten comfortable in Ross’ embrace–a common home for you as of late. Your cheek was beginning to hurt from laying on his chest watching the small TV on the other side of the room.

Ross wriggled a little, so you sat up, realising just how tired you were. With a stretch and a yawn, you let him sit up properly. The film was a nice distraction for a little while.

“I’m sorry,” you said after a much-too-long silence between the two of you.

“For what?” He asked.

“You know what,” you answered. “I’m just…not dealing well.”

“I got that,” he chuckled. “I am too. But what do we do?”

“I don’t know…” You said, your final word cracking as your eyes welled with tears.

Ross was immediately engulfing you in one of his almost-bone-crushing hugs, and you let the tears fall.

“I didn’t mean to get like this,” you said through sobs.

“I know.”

“And I’m gonna miss you so much.”

“I know,” he repeated. “We were good while it lasted, eh?”

“So that’s it?”

He’d finally pulled away again, giving you the chance to wipe your tears and snotty nose on your sleeves. You looked at him, he was just as teary with such an…apologetic look on his face.

“I’m so sorry, darling,” he said.

“Can you at least stay for the night?”

“Of course.”

~~~

You went back to work on Monday with a spring in your step. You spent the whole weekend in your flat, just the two of you. It was like before, only better. The sex was better, the conversations were so easy, you were right back where you were, and you couldn’t be happier about it.

Ross left your flat late on Sunday night, and you hadn’t spoken to him since then. Granted, it had only been around twelve hours, you were still itching to see him again. Not the time, though, you had a job to do, so you tried not to think of him.

At the start of morning break, you were stuck in your classroom helping out a student, Daniel, on some of his homework. Though you were happy to help him out, he and his small group had been so nice to you and you’d already found yourself getting carried away with conversations with the three of them during most of your Year 10 lessons in the past week.

You heard a knock on the doorframe, three firm knocks, to be exact.

“Yes?” You asked. You hoped you knew who it would be, and you were right. You watch Ross walk in, dressed in a crisp light blue button-up and the hair that you’d been pulling on all weekend was neatly tied up into a small bun. “Ah, Mr MacDonald!”

You saw the look of panic in his eyes as he noticed the 14 year-old boy that was standing at your desk with you. He straightened up a little and pulled a smile you could go wobbly-kneed over.

“Hi Mr MacDonald…” Daniel said.

“Hello, Daniel,” he answered. “Not causing any trouble?”

You saw a cheeky grin shared between the two of them. It warmed your heart at thinking of Ross having in-jokes with students, you knew he was a good teacher.

“I promise,” Daniel laughed.

“Good, or else I’ll have something to do about it.” Ross slyly winked to you, making you have to stifle the giggle that almost erupted from your lips.

“Won’t be a minute,” you said to him.

“No worries,” Ross answered, taking a seat at his usual desk for your break-meetings, the one closest to your desk in the front corner of the room. Taking out the packet of crisps from his bag and trying to eat them with as minimal crunches as possible–as to not disturb you.

You didn’t fail to notice the wide eyes of the student in front of you. You had to keep from laughing until he’d left the room.

“Well that rumour’ll be all over school by lunch,” Ross laughed.

“You think?”

“Oh yeah, I know that kid, he’ll be flipping his shit about it!”

“Does it worry you?” You asked, but Ross looked confused. “Rumours…that we’re together and all that.”

“Well they’re true aren’t they?”

“That’s not the point, I just don’t want to jeopardise our jobs or anything.”

“If someone asks, we can just say it’s a rumour,” he answered. He caught your brief look of worry for just a split-second. “Hey? That doesn’t mean I don’t…love you any less.”

You couldn’t fight the Cheshire cat smile that spread across your face. “Really?”

“Of course. We can just tell them when we’re ready.”

#ross macdonald x reader #ross macdonald imagine #ross macdonald fluff

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starlightkun · 3 months

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➠ word count: 3.9k ➠ warnings: cursing, drinking, i won’t say that they fight but there’s some… adversarial conversations in here ➠ genre: fluff, a smattering of hurt/comfort, a dash of angst, established relationship, former hockey captain sungchan, chronically ill reader (chronic migraines), shortfic in the buzzer beater series (after on needlesticks and other metaphors, before between two palms) ➠ extra info: the reader in this has chronic migraines, which i have. when the reader’s migraines, experiences as a chronically ill person, and thoughts about being chronically ill are described, that is me writing directly from my own life. i am not generalizing the lives of all people with chronic migraines/chronic illnesses, but i am sending all my love to any readers out there living with a chronic illness, and here’s a reminder to go take your meds! ➠ series masterlist

“…That was passive aggressive.”

“Cheers!” Everyone clinked their glasses in unison.

“To being one year migraine free!” You squealed, entirely unable to contain your excitement.

This was officially the longest you’d ever gone in your life without a migraine since your diagnosis seven years ago now, and the last year of that had been without one entirely, according to your tracking app in your phone. When you showed Sungchan the homescreen of the app proudly displaying ‘You’ve been 1 year migraine free!’, your boyfriend had suggested to go out for dinner with some of your friends still in the area to celebrate. You loved the idea, knowing that you never would’ve thought of something like that on your own. Being chronically ill had always been an inconvenience on your best days; something to overcome, to survive; something that made you feel at odds with your own body day in and day out. The thought of celebrating anything tangential to it never struck you.

The other part of what you were doing tonight, though, was most definitely not Sungchan’s idea.

“That’s the fanciest soda I’ve ever seen, Y/N,” Hendery cocked an eyebrow as you took a sip of your brightly colored, layered drink.

“That’s because it’s not,” you replied coyly.

“Then what is it?” Ten questioned. “Because I thought you couldn’t have alcohol.”

“Mocktail?” Mark asked.

“I can’t have it when I’m on my meds, so I skipped them so I could celebrate for once in my adult life,” you admitted. Giving Chenle, who was on your left, a bump with your shoulder, you added, “Chenle helped me out with what to order.”

“Y/N never even drank in high school, so she was a bit clueless,” your best friend confirmed with a snicker.

“Oh, you’re going to be such a lightweight!” Hendery grinned holding up his hand for a high-five.

“Not that you’re not an adult who can make her own decisions…” Ten cautiously prefaced his question. “But are you going to be okay if you skip a dose of your medication? Don’t you like, need that?”

“It was more than one dose,” Sungchan finally spoke up from your right, for the first time since the cheers. “The medications have half-lives of about a week or so. In order to minimize the chance of a reaction, she’s been off them for two weeks.”

The table was quiet for a moment, an awkward silence as you held Sungchan’s eye contact incredulously.

“He’s just upset I decided to celebrate one year migraine-free by doing something that will probably give me a migraine.” You turned back to everyone else, chuckling sheepishly to dissolve the tension. “Which really is a genius move on my part, I’m aware. But I feel like it’s kind of like lactose intolerant people who really love mac and cheese, you know? Except I only do it once every seven years instead of every other day.”

That earned you a loud round of laughter from everyone at the table—save for Sungchan, who remained quiet as he took a sip of his water.

“Pace yourself, baby,” Sungchan murmured, pushing his glass of water over to you. “You have literally no alcohol tolerance, remember?”

“Mmm… you’re right, sorry.” You set your rather delicious drink down to lean down and sip from the straw.

“Buzzkill,” Chenle stuck his tongue out at your boyfriend.

“Bad influence,” Sungchan retorted, moving your hair back so it didn’t fall in the open water cup as you gulped it down.

“I heard that!”

“I didn’t whisper!”

“Alright, you two,” Sicheng cut in from Sungchan’s other side. “This isn’t cute, lighthearted bickering. Chenle, you’re tipsy and Sungchan, you’re not actually upset at Chenle.”

Chenle knocked back the rest of his drink before covering his mouth as he burped. “Sorry, dude.”

“Yeah, sorry, Chenle,” Sungchan sighed. “Let’s get you home, man.”

“Ten and I will take him,” Sicheng offered. “You worry about your girl.”

“I’m…” You paused, squinting your eyes as you evaluated your current state. “It’s weird… it’s kind of like some of the stuff I’ve been on? For my migraines? Like this one I had… it uhm… it did… I can’t think of the word right now… but it made me really stupid.”

“Speech arrest,” your boyfriend filled in for you, rubbing your back. “It didn’t make you stupid, baby, it made it hard for your brain to grab the right word when you would put sentences together. So your neuro reduced your dosage. That was the topiramate.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” you nodded, swaying ever so slightly in your seat. “That’s the stuff that I can’t have with alcohol.”

“Correct.”

You poked the very tip of his nose. “Maybe you should just be my doctor, Channie.”

He grabbed your hand in a gentle hold. “Wrong kind of doctor. And I don’t even have my degree yet.”

“And I’m not a fish…”

He burst into soft chuckles at that. “No, no, you’re not.”

You weren’t sure if it was the alcohol or what, but your stomach was doing flip-flops as you looked at Sungchan’s smile, like you were on your first date again. Scooting your chair closer to his, you snuggled up to his side and rested your head on his shoulder.

“Are you tired, baby?” He asked, his voice tinged with concern. “Ready to go home?”

“We can go home, I don’t care,” you shrugged. “But I’m not tired.”

“Then what are you doing?”

“I just remembered that you’re my boyfriend, so I can do this like… whenever I want…” You clutched his arm to your chest.

“I can’t believe you’re both dopey, snuggly, cuddly drunks,” Ten commented from across the table, shaking his head. “I never want to see both of you intoxicated at the same time.”

“Yeah, I think God designed this perfectly, actually, so that you two can never be drunk together,” Hendery added, still picking at his food.

“He does work in mysterious ways.” Chenle put his hands together as if he were praying, making the others break out into snickers.

“Anyway, we’re about done for tonight. Everybody have a safe ride home that needs one?” Sungchan asked, pointing around to your friends. After getting a round of yeses and thumbs-ups, he encouraged you to your feet. You were stable, but there was no way you could have been doing any obstacle courses anytime soon.

Your friends took the next hour or so to say goodbye to you, all of them giving you hugs goodbye and one final congratulations in turn before passing you off to Sungchan to lead you out to the car. You and your boyfriend stopped by the hostess stand up front for him to pay off the tab for your whole table before you could finally leave for the night.

In the car, he helped you maneuver into the passenger seat, buckled you in, and pressed a kiss to your forehead before walking around to the driver’s side. You leaned your seat back so you could curl up comfortably and stare at Sungchan as he drove, one hand on the wheel and the other on your knee as always.

“Are you mad at me?” You whispered, hating that your voice was already wavering.

Sungchan sighed, not even needing to ask what you meant. “Look, baby, obviously, I would rather you not have stopped taking the medication that prevents you from going through awful, horrible pain so that you could drink one time in order to celebrate that very same medication working so well that you hadn’t experienced that pain for a whole year but… I get that it’s your health and your life and you made an educated decision knowing the risks.”

“…That was passive aggressive.”

“You’re still a bit tipsy, baby. We can talk about it after you’ve slept it off, and slept off the hangover, and slept off the migraine that you’re definitely going to get, and the rebound headache that you’ll probably get too.”

“No. You say that you get that it’s my decision, but you clearly have an opinion on it. You’re my boyfriend, I value your opinion. So go ahead. Right now.”

“I just…” He took a deep breath. “I just don’t get the sudden interest in drinking, now. You never seemed to have an issue with being sober during undergrad because of your medication. Trust me, you’re really not missing out on anything.”

“Exactly, you’ve done it, so you know it’s not a big deal, because you have that experience.” You crossed your arms over your chest. “I never got that. You heard Chenle; I never drank in high school because I figured I’d have plenty of time to drink responsibly when I was the legal age. And then I got diagnosed with these fucking migraines the same year, and got started on all this medicine that reacts with alcohol. And the whole time I have people who do drink reassuring me that I’m really not missing out on anything, all the while drinking right in front of me, constantly. Every time we go out to dinner, beers in the fridge, wine on the counter, mimosas at brunch, it’s everywhere, and yet I’m supposed to believe that I’m not missing out on anything?!”

Sungchan bit his lip. “I’m sorry—”

“Hold on, I’m not done.”

“Okay.”

“And I don’t care that people do drink around me. Like, I don’t want you to stop keeping alcohol around the apartment after this just because of me, Sungchan,” you added pointedly. “I just wish people wouldn’t fucking lie to me about enjoying it, acting like they’re making me feel better. Like, I don’t think you have to drink alcohol to be an adult, but when you’re an adult who has had that choice taken away from them by some outside thing instead of making the decision for yourself, it’s a lot fucking different. And I just… having it happen at the same time as my diagnosis… I know my neuro said that they were chronic and it was a lifelong condition, but before it really sank in as to what that meant, and how long my entire life really was, I had this stupid little daydream about being like a real grown-up and going out for drinks with my grown-up friends to celebrate some grown-up achievement like a promotion or something. That I’d be off of all the stupid medication.”

There were a few beats of still air in the car before Sungchan spoke up. “Are you…?”

“No, one more thing.”

“Alright.”

“I know you care for me, Channie, I do. If there is one thing you have shown me in the past three years, it is that you love me, all of me, in sickness and in health, and it has been more often than not, in sickness.” You squeezed his hand that was still overtop your knee. “You know my medications and conditions better than I do at this point. Like, I’m glad you’re getting a degree in molecular biology and are studying a fish, because I think if you actually became a human doctor, you would dedicate yourself to figuring out how to swap our central nervous systems to take my migraines and put them on yourself.”

He seemed to consider this for a moment, then nodded.

“Truly, I understand that that is how much you love me and want me to be well and never be in physical pain again. And I love and appreciate you for that so, so much. I know that it hurts you, on the inside, to see me in pain. It hurts me to see you in pain, too. Remember when you got the flu last year and had to be hospitalized for two days?” You squeezed your eyes shut against the awful memory. “I got a stress migraine and didn’t even tell you until now because I knew that would’ve made you feel worse. But I need you to understand that sometimes I’m looking at the bigger picture when it comes to this stuff. I’m going to have my migraines for the rest of my life. And maybe that means I go thirty years without one. Maybe it means I get one a month. Recently, I got a whole year. But there will always be the risk of one. Like, that’s just something I’ve had to accept, and you are going to have to accept.” You poked his arm, making him pout for a second. “So, the way I see it, is that I need to strike the right balance between preventing migraines, and living a life I actually enjoy. And part of living a life I actually enjoy includes doing stuff I’ve never done before, like drinking, and doing it in a way that decreases other risks as well, like medication interactions. And yeah, that put me at a higher risk for migraines, but I’m okay with that. I can deal with migraines, I’ve dealt with hundreds of them before. One more in exchange for a new experience was something I was willing to do this time. Do you get where I’m coming from now, baby?”

Having finally been prompted to talk, Sungchan answered, “Yeah, I understand. I should’ve tried to talk to you about this and see what it was actually about instead of just assuming. I’m sorry I was a dick at your celebratory dinner that I suggested in the first place.”

“I want you to be concerned for me, Channie.” You brought his hand up to kiss the back of it. “Need my guy to make sure I don’t do anything too stupid while trying to enjoy my life. But maybe in the future we can both approach it from a more conversational and inquisitive angle than we did this time, hm?”

“Yeah, that’s a good idea.” He glanced over at you to pat your head, smiling fondly. “My girl’s so smart, even when she’s tipsy and pissed off at me. I got so lucky.”

“I’m probably like, only a little buzzed right now… we spent a long time saying bye to everyone. And you made sure I ate, and drank water, and paced myself.”

“Guess we’ll find out in the morning.” He clicked his tongue teasingly, taking your hand in his again.

“Well…” You popped an over-the-counter headache reliever for the first time in years. “Now I get why they call it a migraine hangover.”

Sungchan chuckled, setting your breakfast down in front of you. “And how does a real hangover compare to a migraine hangover?”

“Eh,” you shrugged, picking up your fork. “My body feels yuckier, but my brain is working a lot better. Like, I’m pretty sure if I saw a puddle right now, I wouldn’t, in the heat of the moment, call it a ‘pile of water’ with my whole chest.”

Your boyfriend burst into laughter. “Pile of water?”

“Yeah, that one happened in one of Dr. Son’s classes,” you sighed, shutting your eyes and holding your head in one of your hands lazily. “Socratic discussion, so the entire class was focused on me and my insightful commentary on what I thought the pile of water represented in the story.”

“I’m sure it was very profound, baby.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you scoffed, opening your eyes just enough to get your next bite of food onto your fork and lift it to your mouth.

The next day, you were more than recovered from your first hangover of your life, but worse off than before. Somehow, in that year without a migraine, you’d forgotten how bad they were. And now, they were back with a vengeance. You couldn’t, in the moment, think what number this would be on a comparative scale to all your others, but it sure as fuck felt like a 9/10 at least.

The blackout curtains in your bedroom were drawn shut, you had an eye mask pulled on, your ear plugs in, and had all of your usually lovely scent plug-ins removed from the room. It felt like the slightest sensory input set off gunfire in your brain, and you would let out an immediate, visceral yelp.

It had started soon after you woke up, meaning that Sungchan came home from the gym to find you curled up under the covers clutching your head, unable to even move to get your rescue meds—the ones that never worked in the first place. He’d been the one to shut the blackout curtains, find your long-unused eye mask, fetch your earplugs from your go bag, take out any artificially and/or strongly scented thing from the room, and prepare all of your medication for you to take in one blind, desperate gulp. He didn’t need to ask how you were doing—obviously, bad.

He climbed back in on his side of the bed, the two of you having worked out that you’d let him know if you needed more or less physical contact during some of the migraines. You always liked having him near, to feel less alone, but sometimes the extra sensations on your body just ended up being too much to handle in the moment. Whether it was body heat, or clothes wrinkling in the wrong places, or hair poking you, sometimes you were just extra on edge, and it did more harm than good.

Right now, you were laying on your front facing him, face buried into your pillow, one of your hands clasped with his and your joined hands cradled to your chest, a comforting, grounding pressure on your sternum. The only indication you had that Sungchan wasn’t asleep was when his thumb would run along yours every so often, a silent reassurance. You’d squeeze his hand back, letting him know you were still hanging in there, you didn’t need anything more, just him.

You must have eventually gone to sleep, as you were now waking up. The eye mask was slightly askew, and you rubbed at your eyes as you pulled it off all the way.

“Morning, beautiful,” Sungchan whispered, then pressed a button on his watch, lighting up the time for a split second. “Or, 6:00 p.m. How are you feeling?”

“Like shit,” you groaned. Your earplugs had fallen out of your ears somewhere, but you would find those later. “But the migraine is finally fucking gone.”

“Good.”

“Ugh.” You dropped your head back down to your pillow. “I can’t believe that migraine lasted two and a half days.”

“I was going to carry you to the ER myself if you woke up and still had it.” Sungchan sat up, and one look at his face told you he was serious. “I can’t believe I let you talk me out of it after you hit the 36-hour mark last night.”

“I told you I just needed to sleep it off.”

“Yeah, for 20 hours straight.”

You winced, and the reminder of how long you had been out seemed to suddenly snap your body back to reality all at once. “I need to pee. Also, I’m hungry. And thirsty. Holy shit, my breath stinks. Actually, my everything stinks— Oh my God I need to pee!”

Quite literally jumping out of bed, your knees immediately buckled, and you dropped unceremoniously to the floor. “Fuck!”

“Woah, baby, you okay?” Sungchan scrambled to follow you, coming to kneel down beside you.

“Yeah, I’m fine, Channie,” you reassured him with a sheepish smile, slowly sitting up. “My muscles were not ready for that.”

“You were just passed out for 20 hours straight,” he reminded you, tenderly fixing some of your hair. “And had a migraine for two and a half days. Take it easy for a bit, baby. And you’re about to start weaning back on your meds. Your body’s going to have a lot to get used to again for a while.”

“Those weren’t full doses you gave me earlier?” You asked curiously.

“Hell no,” he snorted. “Do I look like an idiot?”

“That’s what I would’ve done.”

“You’re fully weaned off all of them. Starting back at your full doses would just make all the side effects that you were managing even worse. It might even give you some that you didn’t have the first time you were taking them.”

Your mouth silently formed an ‘Oh,’ and you grabbed Sungchan’s arm. “Thank you, Channie. I… You shouldn’t have to… Thank you. I love you, and I would kiss you right now, but like I said, I really need to brush my teeth.”

He leaned forward to press a kiss to your forehead, and when he pulled back, there was a warmth glowing in his brown eyes. “I love you, too, baby. And hey, we’re a team, okay? We’ve got to do all this stuff as a team, and that includes health. Your health and mine. You’re not only in charge of taking care of you and I’m only in charge of taking care of me, that’s not how it works. That would be so unfair. Imagine if you never came with me when I got my flu shots.”

“Who would hold your hand?”

“Exactly.”

“But I feel like holding your hand once a year isn’t really comparable to this…”

“My point is that we’re a team, which means we share the tough stuff with each other, so everything isn’t on one person’s shoulders. You have a chronic illness, baby. You have to deal with all the pain, and medication side effects, and everything that I can never take from you no matter how much I wish I could. So let me pick up your meds from the pharmacy, and find you fun new band-aids for your injection, and keep a snack on me since you never will, and learn as much as I possibly can about this.”

“Okay, I get your point.” You pulled your knees to your chest, resting your chin on them to look at him. “How do you always know the right stuff to say to make me feel better, Channie?”

“I don’t always. I didn’t the other night at dinner,” he pointed out.

“Yeah, but I mean, you usually do when it comes to this stuff, with my migraines. You always…” you sniffed, your vision watering and growing blurry. “You always say all this nice stuff, and it’s not just talk, you really mean it too, I see it in how you act, what you do. Just… how are you… in love with me?”

“Y/N, baby,” Sungchan scooted over to take you into his arms, fully enveloping you with his body as you suddenly devolved into hiccupping sobs into his shirt. “You’re exhausted, right?”

You nodded against him, feeling how absolutely drained you were to your very core, despite the 20 straight hours you had just slept.

He hugged you even tighter to him. “Listen. I’m not going to list out a bunch of reasons that I love you, because I think that’ll just do more harm than good. So I’ll tell you this: I love you because I do. Because everything single thing I’ve ever found out about you, good or bad, has only made me more crazy about you.”

You started crying harder, clinging to him tightly, and he rubbed your back all through it.

“I-I’m so tired, Channie,” you mumbled into his collar, bunching the fabric of his shirt in your hand.

“I know, baby, I know.”

“I really need to pee…”

“Yeah, let’s go.”

➠ next | series masterlist | blog masterlist

#sungchan x reader #riize x reader #sungchan imagines #riize imagines #sungchan #sungchan imagine #riize imagine #nct x reader #nct imagine #nct imagines #jung sungchan #i: sungchan #f: garbage goal #s: buzzer beater #writing #text #mine #bias tag #*100

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be-my-ally · 10 months

Text

The Lisa-Marie

Big Bunny + The Return Flight (in case you want to catch up!)

Warnings: 18+, exhibitionism (public rehearsal, but no-one else is watching/or sees), elvis is a panty thief for no reason other than it’s now totally canon in my head that he continually stole knickers, fingering, mentions of drug use + abuse, oral (v receiving, p mentioned), jealousy, p in v sex, the briefest mention of a gun threat, references to elvis’ ill health. this is somehow the least-bunny fun + plottiest, while also the smuttiest so uhhh enjoy the angst at the end?

Director Elvis is linked where the scene goes in the middle of this, however there have been some minor adjustments to the opening + closing paragraphs to make it fit *just right* and so they’ve been inserted here.

wc: 12k

Pls forgive me for the longest author note ever:

I went waaaay too far into attempting to make the timeline totally accurate; to the extent that I was noting down what city each night when i wasn’t even referencing them but honestly it was stressing me out so much that I gave up and removed a lot of the references - so this is *mostly* accurate in the general tour dates and vibes but not entirely because … this isn’t a biography, it’s smut with a lil teeny weeny bit of plot.

Confession time! I was and am super unhappy with The Return Flight, there was so much in it that I was excited to share but I think my writing is off and I’m not super sure why, which affected my motivation for this A LOT so apologies for the fact this took a literal months. But hopefully you’ll all think it was worth it! And hopefully a lesser wait for the fourth and final part.

Anyway, I might return Elvis onto the Big Bunny plane for a little spin-off fun but for now, enjoy bunny still being referred to as Bunny even though, by half-way through this, she is no longer a bunny.

October 1974.

You’re awake before him, gently shaking his shoulder as he groaned into the fur comforter that he didn’t want to wake up yet. He eventually shoves you hard enough that you decide it’s probably safer just to leave him as he is, pulling yourself together and redressing instead - he’s still got his eyes closed when you slip out. Ten minutes later you get a note passed to you with details about where to meet them for the pre-show rehearsal but you don’t actually get the chance to see him again, too distracted with dealing with all the matters of the disembarkation and cleaning. After you’re done you change as quickly as you possibly can, ignoring the questions from the other girls about where you’re going - practically sprinting to catch a cab.

He’s already on the stage when you walk in, pacing about - blocking the show as best they can in preparation to allow for the lights crew to have some idea of where he might be at any moment. He looks marvellous - absolutely gorgeous, his hair back but essentially left to do what it likes, all fluffy and soft looking. Eyes bright underneath his tinted glasses. He’s dressed in a white shirt, cuffs like a pirate, damp see-through sweat patches evident when he raises his arms, filigree studded belt, huge against his stomach, blue stones glinting in the lights. You feel your mouth water and tummy start to flip just at the sight of him. He smiles when he sees you, with your tiny little halter dress on, chilly in the cold air of the auditorium at the venue. The breeze causes you to wrap an arm around yourself a little self-consciously as he waves you closer to the stage. You're practically leaning on the edge when he kneels down in front of you and you get a sudden flash of what it must feel like to be a girl at his concert. Someone who hadn't had the luxury of falling asleep beside him, or the feel of his palms against theirs. The feeling of being forced to look up at him, his head backlit by the lights, a halo like he's the goddamn messiah. That feeling of desperately pining for a single moment of his attention.

“Ah-ha! lil Bun-Bun! C’mon up here,” He puts an arm down before retracting it, looking you over more carefully, a note of stern shock in his tone,

“Good lord! That might be more r’vealing than your lil bunny get-up. Uh - here!” He gropes around the floor for his jacket before he thrusts it at you, and you look at it with amusement, it’s a rainbow. Rainbow fringe. It’s truly one of the most preposterous things you’ve ever seen in your life. He grumbles as he holds it out,

“Don’t need every man in here to be starin’ at you. Got work to do - don’t need ‘em bein’ distracted.” You don’t think you’re particularly scantily clad, you’re certainly showing a fair amount of leg but you’re far more covered up than Playboy enterprises would like you to be had you been on shift. But still, it was chilly, so you shrug it on gratefully. The soft leather caresses your arms, encasing you in his thick scent, it’s heavy on your shoulders and big enough that the fringe tassel tickles your thigh.

“Uh Hi, Where-“ You wonder if you should even ask, “Where’d this come from?” You shake your arms out, making the fringe dance.

“Oh - it was a gift,” He grins at you, lips all crooked in his sheer delight, “You like it?” He clearly loves it. So you lean into the absurdity and realise that what you’re about to say wasn’t even really a lie.

“Uh. You know what, yeah I do,” You giggle as you shimmy a little making the strands swing. “I love it.” He looks at you fondly before he leans over the edge of the stage, tugging you up with a grunt.

“Glad you could make it doll, been waiting for you.” You smile back at him, pleased as anything that he’s laying on the charm but that underneath you can still sense the sincerity in his voice.

“Thank you for inviting me.” He pulls you close to him and you brace yourself with a hand on his belt, feeling the weight of the buckle against your fingertips. He reaches down to grasp your hand, pulling it up to press a kiss against it. It’s intimate and gentlemanly and you feel like you’re in a period drama, feeling your chest heave as your breath catches in your throat at the movement, and you’re helpless to do anything but gaze into his eyes. You glance down, eyes catching on the wide white band on his wrist, just above his diamond encrusted ‘Elvis’ bracelet.

You stroke his wrist gently before looking up at him with a questioning brow raised. He kicks his foot out to show you that beneath his gently flaring trousers there’s a matching white band on each of his ankles.

“It, uh, it mimics the weight of the ‘suit, gets me used to it for the performing.” He flicks a wrist, “And, uh, gotta try and get some of this weight off.” He pats his stomach, gripping the side harshly, “No-one wants to see a big doughy ol’ Elvis.” He shakes his wrists at you, and you’re mortified at the fact that it makes you squeeze your thighs, drool pooling in your mouth forcing you to swallow hard. Something about the way the rings on his fingers glint under the stage lights, the way the buckle makes the tiniest little metallic clang, feels akin to being shown a hidden sliver of skin. Makes you think all sorts of things. Of the weight of them around his wrists, of the possibility of them around yours, weighing you down, wrapped around your ankles too, making you heavy and pliable. Or his belt around your middle, the huge buckle pinning you in whatever position he chose. You don’t realise how low your eyelids have slid at this line of thinking until he laughs,

“God - you got them dirty thoughts written all over your face Bunny, this is a respectable r’hearsal, don’t you go getting any ideas now.” He wags a finger at you, you feel like you’re being hypnotised watching it.

“Go on now - hop over there for me, sit yourself down, just watch the show baby.” He slaps your ass, causing you to yelp as he catches your bare thigh, while he grips your upper arm and ‘helps’ to lower you down gently, almost missing his huff of laughter in response. You have to take a second after you're on the ground forcing a deep breath feeling your heartbeat between your thighs.

You take a seat where he’d pointed, content to try and settle down and watch him practice. It’s gorgeous to watch, he struts about the stage, breaking into gospel every now and again, making you smile at the clear little flashes of joy on his face. You’d considered if it was going to be boring, contemplated even bringing a magazine with you but now you were here you can’t imagine being able to concentrate on anything but him. Every now and again he cracks a joke, changing the lyrics to something dirty and tossing you a wink, laughing back at the boys who all join in like a pack of wild hyenas. It’s different to how he is in private, yet shockingly the same - there’s flashes of the insecurity you caught on the last flight, a quietness to him while he waits for a song to be set up or a wire to be fixed. But also an exaggerated boyishness to him, playing the jester for men who don’t seem to be aware he’s putting it on.

He calls a break after you’ve been there about an hour, and he slides himself off the stage to walk over to you. You were going to try and play it cool but you can’t stop yourself from gushing at him;

“You sound wonderful. I can’t wait to see the show tonight.” He smiles, a little bashfully,

“Yeah? I can see you wigglin’ your yittle hips from all the way over there,” He narrows his eyes at you, crinkles forming as his high cheekbones move, “ ‘just wonderful’, ‘s that all I am?”

“Well you’re not - ” You squirm a little under his line of questioning and consistent stare, suddenly feeling a bit too hot in his jacket, “- not bad to look at. You’re so different out here than on the plane.”

“In a good way?” You hum back a non-committal noise and though his brow wrinkles a little he lets it go. Instead leaning back on the chair in front of you, feet crossing between your legs. He folds his arms across his chest, your eyes track the bands on his wrists again and when you look up he’s smirking at you watching him. You can’t take it any longer and his smile grows wider watching you shrug his jacket back off, letting it hang over the back of the chair, fringe tickling your arms as it falls,

“Let’s make this more interesting for you huh, must be boring having to wait for all this - ‘n I can see you’re all fired up for me doll.” You look around, but he’s blocking your view forcing you to focus on him even more, as if he wasn’t already the only thing you could see.

“Oh no, it’s plenty fascinating enough El honestly,” He shakes his head, magnanimously as if he’s doing you a favour,

“No, no, must be boring for an exciting lil girl like you.” He taps his chin almost pantomime-esque in its overdramatic nature.

“Hmm… what shall we do to keep it entertaining.” You squirm silently begging him to stop drawing your attention to his wrists. He bends down, unstrapping the weights from his ankles,

“They’re gonna be a bit big on you. But still,” He kneels down, like he’s the prince and you’re Cinderella, tapping your foot to make you lift it up for him. He slips it onto your ankle, letting it fall down over the top of your foot as the weight drags it down. You wiggle your foot - it’s not particularly heavy, you could definitely still walk and run in them - as was probably their intended use. But they made you feel very … aware, made you notice whenever you wanted to move your leg. He grabs your right leg now, doing the same, placing it back down when he was finished, your legs wide. You glance down at him, realising that your dress was certainly too short for this. You try to close your legs but he stops you with a hand to your knee.

“No, no, darlin’, leave ‘em where they are. That’s gonna be your job ok baby? You’re gonna keep these yittle legs spread, and when you try to wiggle around again these-“ He taps one of the weights “ ‘ll remind you to keep still.” You hiss back at him,

“Elvis - someone’s gonna, you gotta get up - they’re all gonna think we’re up to no good, don’t want - I don’t wanna get you in trouble.” He grins up from between your legs, spreading them further. You cringe a little, feeling the air now brush against your uncovered underwear, feel your wetness start to drool onto the fabric despite the embarrassment.

“Ain’t gonna be no trouble ‘round here little one. ‘Member I’m in charge.” He takes a second to leer at you, and your thighs twitch at him staring straight up your skirt. Finally, he stands up, using your thighs for balance, clutching at them on his way up, you gasp at the firm grip. He leans down over you, one arm bracketed on the back of your chair, and the sudden scent of him, stronger than what was lingering on his jacket almost overpowers you - his cologne almost too much, like walking past a men’s locker room. He leans down to murmur in your ear, his other hand going down to brush against your hip, feeling through your dress for the waistband of your panties.

“C’mon Bunny slip ‘em off, let me have ‘em as a good luck charm. I haven’t got any of yours yet.” Your legs slip a little closer together and while he looks down and smirks he allows it,

“You got a collection?” You ask shocked, tilting your chin up at him, he grins back at you, boyishly and amused ignoring the question.

“C’mon! Hurry up, gotta get back to work in a second baby, want you all bare - so its nice and easy for you to slip a lil hand up there, want you to rub yerself every time you like what ‘m doin, ‘till you’re all silly with it. Okay doll?” He says it like its a totally sane request, and you have to wonder if he’s of completely sound mind. You glance around, double checking that the building is practically empty, and where there are people that they’re all preoccupied with the stage rather than glancing back at you sat in the middle of the row a few lines behind the mafia. You roll your eyes, heart going almost a little too fast, but still obediently lift your hips up to tug your panties down and off, they catch on the weight on the way down,

“No need to be shy doll, I’ve seen it all before.” He winks, as he bends down to pick them up, glancing straight up your skirt as he does. You flinch a little at the sight of them in his hand, if you’d known Elvis was gonna be taking them home you’d have put on something a little sexier, but you can’t imagine that any change could have made his face more gleeful, as he stares down at the wet spot on them before slipping them straight into his pocket.

“You ‘member what you’re meant to be doin’ now.” He whispers in your ear, pressing what would look like an otherwise fairly chaste kiss to your cheek, before sauntering back up to the stage.

You nervously fumble the hem of your dress, delicately sliding a hand up, trying not to noticeably flinch as your fingers brush over yourself. You wonder if it wouldn’t have made more sense to slip your arm down the side of the wide arm-hole of the dress, more subtle perhaps? But all you can hope is that the the way the chairs are placed in front of you obscures your actions should anyone look back. From anyone that wasn’t up high on the stage. You can practically feel his laser focus up your skirt, you’re far enough away that you’re sure he can’t see anything in detail, perhaps not even the way your slickness glistens against your skin, but just the gentle motion of your fingers teasing yourself. There’s a clang as the metal inside the cuff on your ankle knocks against the chair leg and you freeze, anxiously glancing around to check no one had heard. Elvis’ head had whirled around at the noise from where he’s been talking to someone at the side of the stage and you can see the way his face contorts into a knowing smirk.

You didn’t think you’d be into this level of wanton exhibitionism, but the sudden fear that had jumped through you had translated straight into excitement, and you could feel the pulse of arousal swirling with the butterflies in your stomach. You brush your fingers more confidently, rolling your hips with the motion, not even really aware of how much your body was moving, but simply going with it. Your eyes briefly slip closed as you rub a singular finger down your self, trying to build the anticipation, but you can’t resist moving your hand to play with your clit when your vision clears and you witness him moving about the stage - dancing, thrusting. He pauses while they reset something - the mic perhaps, or the lights, and you can feel the thrum of your climax growing; the fear of being spotted, the sheer desire for him, the feel of your feet firmly planted on the floor, weights holding them down, enough to bring you closer and closer.

He starts singing again but if someone had had a gun to your head though you wouldn’t have been able to tell them what, and as you start to move your fingers again you make eye contact with him, swallowing a moan as you watch him attempt to surreptitiously adjust himself. You should feel embarrassed, you think, but instead a sudden boldness creeps over you at the evidence of his undivided attention, and you instead spread your legs wider, your skirt riding into the little roll of your stomach, completely exposing yourself. You run your fingers against yourself, feeling them slip as you gather wetness and drag it up, reducing the friction on your clit when you finally let your finger brush over it again.

Elvis is stood still now, ostensibly staying put so they could manually hold the lights for him to sing a ballad, but in reality in the perfect position to watch you. You watch his face flush as he misses a note, watching you finally dip your finger into your practically dripping entrance. You’re made away of the weight on your feet when your legs try to jerk and your body compensates by crunching in on yourself a little. Making it startlingly obvious to anyone watching, hopefully just Elvis, what you’ve just done.

You let his voice wash over you, and your eyes close as you go to add a second finger, thumb moving to tease your clit with little circling touches. Your climax comes over you suddenly and unexpectedly, a slightly unplanned harder touch directly over your clitoris and the combination of your fingers curling inside yourself sending shockwaves down your spine and belly. You continue to touch yourself through it - dragging it out for a moment. Until you just know that if you push yourself any further you’re going to scream and you have to slow the pace, gently stroking yourself as you slowly come down from the high. Your head had fallen back and with a little effort you manage to bring it back around, shifting yourself upright as you do.

When you make eye contact he winks, mimics licking his fingers, and you look down at your own sticky pair, before following his mimed instruction. You meet his eyes again and watch him trail off mid-sentence as his chest heaves taking you in, squinting under his glasses to try and focus on your fingers leaving your mouth. You make sure for a second that you let your tongue peek out, watching him gulp in response. Before hastily rubbing your hand against your dress, thankful for the colourful pattern that hides all sin. He sets the microphone back onto its stand, slowly, deliberately. Then, he motions you to the stage, and when you make no attempt to move, fear shooting through you that you’re going to be leaving a wet patch behind, he makes the request vocal.

“C’mere Bunny, can’t see you all the way over there.” You rapidly close your legs, weights knocking against each other, and sit stock straight as several of the boy’s heads spin to look at you. Elvis breaks into song, “C’mon and be my little good luck charm.” While pointing to a spot in the front row. You swallow hard, trying to make your limbs cooperate again, but it just looks like pure defiance, and he’s frowning at you when you try to plead with your eyes.

His tone changes, “Ain’t gonna ask again honey,” You flinch as several other heads in front of you turn around to stare. You trip a little as you stand, forgetting about the extra weight on your ankles and when you look up Elvis’ smirking straight at you.

“Can take them off now baby, leave ‘em on the chair, someone’ll clean it up later.” He winks and you suck in a gasp as you do as he directed, the implication of someone having to clean up both the weights and the seat of the chair. You can feel the heat in your cheeks at the complete lack of secrecy, with your mind all muddled you don’t have the capacity to consider that the other people in the room wouldn’t understand the double entendre.

“There we are, right there Bunny,” He points at the same spot again and you gratefully stumble down there, collapsing into it. You can feel your cheeks blazing and you clasp your thighs together, trying to tell yourself to just watch Elvis and not pay any attention to how wet you still are, or the embarrassment of being ordered around in front of everyone.

You sit there primly, for the rest of the rehearsal, ignoring your newfound nakedness under your skirt - unable to draw your eyes off of his wrists, his waist, now you know how those innocuous little white bands feel. Waiting to be dismissed, sent home - although you hope that you might get another invitation. He finishes, stripping off the weights as he’s laughing and thanking the sound guys - although shouting back at them as he stalks across the stage to where you’re sat to the side of the front row.

“That interference needs to be cut by tonight, it’s messin’ with my ears, I don’t care if you have to go out and buy a whole new fucking system - just get it done.” Despite his harsh words by the time he’s kneeling in front of you he’s smiling slightly bashfully. His eyes crinkling at the edges as he mutters to you -

“Don’t know why I keep ‘em around.” He offers you his hand, pulling with his suddenly weightless feeling arms to yank you up with him, clearly overcompensating without the weight, causing you to stumble with the force of it. His arm comes around to steady your waist. He stands there, legs spread and solid, holding you to him, brushing your hair off your neck to whisper in your ear.

“Wanna come back with me, honey? C’mon baby,” He’s pleading with you, entreating you to follow him, babying tone convincing you as if you even needed encouragement. “How - How’d you feel about, I got some things we could watch, we could, could - I sure would love to tape ya, baby.” You lean back, brow furrowing as your mind runs through what he’s suggesting.

(Director Elvis + Model Bunny)

But still, after some consideration you agree, and before long you’re relaxing on the bed with him, taking in the moments of quiet before he’s got to head out into the screaming crowds, performing for the pleasure of the girls and women. He’s magnificent in the flesh, masterful in his ability to command the ultimate attention of the audience. But still, as wonderful as it is to watch him, rhinestones glinting in the stage lights, you have to admit to yourself that you much preferred him in the somewhat faux intimacy of the rehearsal.

By the time you’re all filing up the steps to the plane once more it’s night again, looking forward to a short day-break for you all after the busy past couple of days. Elvis is exhausted, and though he’s gentle with you still you can tell he’s had enough. He wearily waves to the other girls, calling you over to ask for some food before disappearing. You push the cart into where he’s ensconced himself in the bedroom to discover him in the bathroom - door open, and you can’t help but take a peek. Your eyes catch on the little pill bottles lined up on the side, the man himself shaking seemingly every bottle possible into his palm until there was a little cocktail of medication contained in his hand. He takes them with a swig of water and jumps when he makes eye contact with you in the mirror.

“Jeez honey, make a noise next time.” His tone isn’t harsh, it’s not annoyed - but it is solid, serious. You frown, the floor was carpeted but the rickety wheels of the cart still made some noise.

“Oh, uh, sorry - didn’t mean to scare you.” You laugh a little bit in an attempt to lighten the atmosphere. He doesn’t respond. “Uh, I’ve got, there’s hamburgers, and sandwiches and uh-“ He’s wiping his hands on a hand towel when he comes out of the bathroom, throwing it back onto the floor behind him when they’re dry.

“S’ok Bunny, that’s good. Just-just leave it over here.” He sits on the edge of the bed, pointing to a spot within arm’s reach. He’s in the tracksuit again, out of the jumpsuit from the show, out of the the sharp outfits you were now used to seeing him in. But he still looks appealing, if not moreso now. Soft, approachable and above all else - cuddly. He’s evidently exhausted, face pale after removing the stage makeup, and he shuffles back on the bed. He’s starting to slur his words a little as he reaches for a sandwich,

“Come. Come sit here baby… come sit here with me.” He pats the side of the bed next to him as he shuffles further up. You do so and he tucks a hand into the crease of your stomach and thigh, thumb brushing in circles, a gently squeezing grip.

“Here.” He holds out a sandwich for you and you take it gratefully, “Gotta…feed you up while I got the chance.” His head is starting to slip forward as his eyes fall closed. You pat his arm, leaning over to take the parchment out of his hand. He grips your wrist, forcing you to put your sandwich down too as he slides down the bed to lie down, tugging you into him.

“S’ok El, just, just close your eyes. You did so good today.” He hums, a little pleased noise like he’s somehow not used to being praised still. He pulls you closer, arm wrapping under and around you, pulling you tight to him.

“That’s it Bunny, that’s it, just - just gonna rest my eyes for a moment, doll. Be…be ready for action in a mo’ - just, ju-“ You shush him, his eyes were fluttering closed, arm clenching around you and you felt it relax a second later as he drops off into sleep.

There’s a few more flights scheduled, but they’re busy ones - short flights with barely enough time to get the men fed and watered, let alone enjoy any other kind of extracurricular activities - there’s a hasty blowjob and an attempt for the world’s quickest round of intercourse and that’s it.

There’s a break for a little while before he cancels the next flight on Big Bunny so you only see him once more, and that time he barely acknowledges you; exhausted from a show he locks himself in the bedroom and doesn’t appear until the plane is touching down. You wave goodbye to him, a little melancholy and hating yourself for wishing that he make some grand gesture to prove it had all meant something, instead he winks at you as he leaves down the steps, whispering a

“Thanks for takin’ such good care of me, Bunny.” As he went.

That’s the last you hear from him. For little over six months you hear nothing else. You’re almost immediately thrust back into the reality of the normal world and you’re kept busy enough that he doesn’t pass through your mind too often.

Occasionally, when you see a tour announcement pop up in the tabloids, or from a fan-club membership that you totally didn’t take out in a pitiful attempt to keep up-to-date with his life, you wonder about him. About whether you were a bit of fun to flirt with, to tease, to sleep with for a couple of days - a distraction from the real life, like all the bunnies were intended to be, or if he’d meant any of what he’d said. The thing is, even if you were curious, you could never know - despite being so intimate, so close to him; had he lied? Did he help every girl through a panic attack with meditation? There no longer felt like six degrees of separation between you, no longer like you were travelling in similar circles, there now felt more like a hundred degrees; what were you supposed to do; ring the operator in Memphis and ask for Elvis’ number? Pull Hef aside on the next flight and ask him? Don’t be so ridiculous, so clingy you tell yourself, disgusted at your inability to let it go.

Time passes, as it does, and though you somehow feel like you can’t escape him, ultimately you have. Months have passed and you’re busy - being promised a promotion, training a couple of new girls and it means that you don’t get to go home for what feels like weeks.

You finally get back to your apartment, relieved to be there for at least a week, with a stack of mail waiting as tall as your arm. You take your time enjoying the peace and by the evening it feels like you can relax for the first time in a long while, glass of wine poured, comfortable little short pyjama set instead of the bunny-approved corset or dress. You’re just starting to open the first of what looks like several catalogues of clothes you’ll never get a chance to wear when the phone rings.

You glance over at the clock, surprised that anyone would be calling you at half eleven at night, when as far as you’re aware none of your friends or family even know you’re home yet. You consider not answering, too content with your night, but it rings insistently so you drag the handset closer, accepting the call.

“Fuckin’ finally,” You’re immediately taken aback by the annoyed exasperation of the voice on the other end of the line,

“Where’ve you been?” You start to protest, to question who on earth is questioning you and explain that you’ve been working but the voice doesn’t give you the chance.

“Listen, Boss’ got a new plane, he’s uh, calling it the Lisa-Marie,” he shouts to someone on his end, “I don’t know man, thought it would sweeten the deal if she knew he’d already named it! Like - ain’t that what you’re supposed to do if you’re negotiatin’ - let ‘em know you have a name?” Right. So, Elvis. Someone is calling about Elvis’ plane. You’re trying to comprehend that when he continues,

“Sorry. Anyway, he wants you on it. He won’t hear otherwise.” He pauses, “Permanently. On call whenever and wherever he needs to fly,” As if he can sense this isn’t the most attractive prospect, “but you’ll uh, all expenses paid for, apartment in Memphis, the whole shebang, you’ll be well taken care of.” You take a second to process that,

“Uh, I don’t quite know what to say - do, do you need to know right away?” He chuckles down the phone at you,

“Well - uh, no, but, he’s goin’ on tour soon and we need the flights staffed by then so….” He trails off, and you know from your limited experience with Elvis and his methods that this means, actually yes, we do need to know right now, and we’re not actually giving you a choice. You take a deep breath, still confused as to why you’re getting this call out of the blue, thinking that you’re going to regret it if you do, regret it if you don’t.

“Oh, uh, ok fine - look I’ll be at one of the offices tomorrow; I’ll give you a call and you can fax me over the information for the dates and things?”

“No need, we need you by July.” You pause, that’s… barely a month away,

“Ok, I’ve got a three week notice period though, I can’t just -”

“We’ll take care of it with Hugh direct.” You laugh incredulously - is that how they think it works?

“Hugh Hefner isn’t my boss - how high up do you think I am? I’m a jet bunny for god's sake.” There’s silence on the other end of the line as if they'd expected you to feel cowed, or awed by their famous friend. You can hear them whispering before the voice returns, just as confident as before;

“Well, we’ll take care of it.” You frown but you’re not sure what else to do but agree - at least this way of something falls through you can claim you had no clue about any of this.

“Ok, but you’ll have to ask for Ellen at the office and I’ve got a notice of -“ You’re cut off by him,

“We’ll make it happen.” Well, you couldn’t say more than what you’d said - you’ll just have to hope they do enough that it all gets sorted somehow, and without totally burning all your bridges.

“Right, well then, -”

“Tickets for your flight on the 26th June to Memphis will be waiting at the airport. Someone’ll pick you up there.”

“Uh ok, um, well then that’s -”

“Thanks again, you’re a doll, bye!” The phone hangs up and you’re left holding the receiver wondering what on earth you’ve just agreed to.

——

It turns out you’ve agreed to a stewardess job pretty similar to any other. You’ve got a cute new little uniform, and it was indeed little, sleeveless and hem skimming the middle of your thighs but Elvis had indeed fulfilled his promise - it was stretchy. With a scarf around your neck and tall boots it almost didn’t feel much different to your bunny outfits. In fact it all would have felt quite similar if it weren’t for the sudden increase in responsibility you were facing. There was another girl who worked on board here and there, but whether as a cost-saving measure (although you couldn’t fathom the necessity considering the gold sinks on the plane) or simply the knowledge that one stewardess and the pilots were enough for a plane of this size you weren’t often put on the plane together. It meant that you were often working alone and solely responsible for the cabin. It was certainly an adjustment, you’d been safety trained before - of course - but you’d never really had to use it; the focus of your jet bunny role had pretty much been to cater to the whims of the people on board. Like a Barbie doll you’d had too many jobs to count, and the responsibility to look good while doing so. On the plane you’d had to be waitresses, dancers, chefs and bartenders but less so a safety officer.

And it’s so strange, you’d not been expecting much but you had been anticipating at least an acknowledgement, or something? But instead on the first flight Elvis collapses in a seat, clearly out of his mind and ignores you completely, There’s this, somewhat odd, hierarchy evident and you somehow just know that you shouldn’t approach him like this - trusting that his needs are being catered for by his entourage. But you can’t help but glance over at him, inspecting that he looks paler than before - almost sallow-like in comparison to the fit tan of the first time you’d seen him in the flesh. So you do your job, and see them on and off the plane with nary a word exchanged between the two of you.

You fall into this habit pretty quickly, flight after flight. When he’s awake his eyes skim over you, unfocused and never stopping for long. You hate yourself for how upset it makes you, he hadn’t owed you anything and yet you still feel like you’d signed up for something under false pretences. It keeps you up at night, wondering how you could have been so stupid - you’d given up a stable salary, a life and an exciting one at that, for this - for him. With every month that passes you’re more and more aware that you’re creeping towards your next birthday and the chance to return to Playboy in any capacity is dwindling. They aren’t shy about declaring there’s an age limit. You feel like you’re trapped, in a never-ending cycle - flight, sort the plane while they’re at a concert, flight, fitful sleep in a hotel, flight, flight, flight.

But then, like magic, two weeks before your birthday - two weeks before the deadline you’d come up with in your head to quit he notices you. He’d been looking better for a few days, on an upward swing or so it would seem, and seems significantly more aware than he had been. He almost does a double-take, as if seeing you for the first time. It’s then that, suddenly, Georgia - the other girl, starts to come on board with you a lot more frequently - taking care of the other guys while Elvis not so surreptitiously pulls you into his excessively decorated bedroom.

It’s not the first time you’ve been in there, you clean the damn place after all, but it’s the first time that you’re able to look at it with fresh eyes, through the lens of the awe of a girl being invited back there as a guest. You feel the bend of the fibres of the plush carpet underfoot, against the smooth sole of your boot.

He sits down, patting his thigh, “Give me your lil footsie baby, them little footsie sooties, put ‘em up here.” You look at him slightly askance, fondly, but still do as he asks, putting first one foot up on his lap, letting him unzip your boot, tugging it off and then your other one when he taps your ankle. He looks up at you, as he holds onto your foot, and you know you’re both getting flashbacks to that first flight, when he’d tugged your heels off, got caught in your pantyhose, the joy of that first time. He grips your wrist, forcing you to kneel onto and then shuffle across the bed as he tugs you while sliding back himself. Pulling you're both placed far enough to the headboard that he sinks down into a lying position and drags you down with him.

“Elvis - I, I, I don’t know what -“

“Shhh baby, don’t worry about anything, just, just feel it with me - you feel that?” He shifts to hold your hand, “Feel that energy? ‘S right between us darlin’ girl, right there.” You’re not really sure what he’s talking about, but you had been feeling the thrum of a connection, willing him to pick up on your silent desires, so you can’t deny a strength of feeling there.

“I feel it.” He hums at you, happily, still holding onto your hand, threading his fingers through yours and pressing his nose against your cheek. He nuzzles at you for a moment, starting off gentle and slow, before rolling you into him and catching your mouth with his. He’s sure of himself, pressing himself skilfully against you - you’re more than aware that this is a skill he’s nurtured, learnt - been judged upon, almost as much as his singing and it shows, it feels no different to the first time you’d kissed. A masterclass in the right moves, just the right amount of bite, just the right amount of tongue, and it makes you buck into him. You’re suddenly desperate for him to break out of the cultured practiced mould, feel him lose control and slip. You gasp, trying to provoke it in him, biting down on his lip a fraction too hard. He shifts his grip to your neck, clutching it to pull you back a little,

“Careful, honey, careful.” You can feel his lips move against your skin as he murmurs and it makes you shiver a little at the tickle of his breath. He kisses across your jaw, little sucking presses, before he returns once again to your mouth.

It’s hard not to assign more feeling or meaning to it than what it is, when he seems to do everything with such feeling. Not for the first time you wonder how it would be possible to be kissed at a concert and then have to continue to go about your life, acting as if nothing huge had happened, as if something totally earth-shattering hadn’t taken place. But then, you imagine, it’s probably not that different to what you have to do.

He pulls back a little, pushing himself up to be more on his knees than lying back, before he slips a hand down between you, pushing underneath your dress to pull at your panties, rubbing a finger on the outside. He pushes them against your folds, circling with his finger until a little damp patch is forming where he’s touching. He pulls them to one side, shimmying his hand underneath, a ring knocking against your thigh and catching on the fabric and your hair as he cups your mound. You reach a hand down yourself, brushing it over his trousers, but you’re slightly surprised to feel him still soft inside. He jerks his hand off of you, gripping your leg instead, shoving your hand away with his other.

You pat his face as it peers over the top of you, the creases in the corners of his eyes a little scrunched up in disappointment and his lips in a slight pout; as if he were trying to stop himself being upset.

“‘S ok El, You’ve still gotta perform tonight too -“ You go to tug your dress back down assuming there was no need for you to remain bare but his hand flies out, gripping your forearm and pushing it against your stomach.

“Take it all the way off,” You look nervously over at the unlocked bedroom door but obediently wiggle down a little, as best you can with his arm still locked over top of you to slither out of the dress. He shifts back down into a horizontal position, sliding himself further down, shirt crumpling with the motion, before gripping you with one hand on an arm and one on a leg, to hint at where he wants you to move to, tugging you until you’re in position, straddling him.

“El - seriously, I don’t think, it’s fine, it happens all the time it’s noth-“ He cuts you off by sharply pulling, with hands gripping right on your hipbones, you closer to him - forcing you to stumble on your knees even further up his body.

“‘Nough of that.” In that wonderful growly voice only he seems able to achieve, he lifts his chin up to press a kiss against your inner thigh. “Can still, still make you feel good Bunny, baby. Still make that pretty yittle cunt o’ yours feel good.” He yanks you so you’re perfectly placed, hands gripping the navy velvet headboard to hold yourself steady. “Just gonna have a lil taste, ok darling? Just needta give me a little more time. Let, let it kick in.” You nod frantically, although you’re not 100% certain what you’ve got to let ‘kick in’.

“Yes, god, yes. Sure.” The kiss, and his brief touches had been enough to turn you on, and you jerk as he holds your thighs to press a kiss against your now bare cunt,

“Oh, fuck.” Elvis laughs against you, and you can feel the vibration up your spine, thetickle sending sparks straight into your stomach. The sheer level of arousal makes you feel almost a little nauseous but you’re distracted by the feel of his tongue moving again, holding you tight to him with his grip on your thigh when the feeling makes you try to thrust out of his hold. You can feel twin bruises form from the thick bands of the ring on each of his hands and the twinge of pain when he lifts the pressure makes you gasp,

“Oh, Christ - Elvis, need, need you to,” You’re not sure if you were planning on asking him to let go, or hold you tighter - but you’re distracted by him shifting to suck down directly on your clit, briefly, just enough to make you choke on your own spit, before he releases, flattening his tongue and moving it down. Every time you clench or move you can feel his fingers digging tighter in and you can’t help but move, grinding onto his mouth and against his tongue. He pulls away, and you shift your hips slightly so you can look down at him, and your head tips back with a moan as he quirks a little grin at you. It’s utterly filthy the way his chin and mouth is glisteningly sticky and wet.

“You like that honey?” You nod, and he returns, surging forward to renew his efforts, your hips circling in response.

“Oh god, yes, don’t, oh, holy fuck, - don’t stop,” You can’t stop moving your hips, and part of you is briefly concerned that you might be suffocating him, but the larger part is more concerned with making sure he keeps licking right there until your building climax hits. His tongue is flicks between lapping at your vagina and your inner folds. Your hips are constantly moving and you grip the headboard even harder, feeling the fabric pile shift and flatten under your hold as he finally captures your little puffy clit in his lips again and sucks hard, reaching up to slip a finger inside you as he does.

Your lower back is starting to ache, thighs beginning to cramp but you can’t think about that, reaching down with one hand to comb through his hair, clutching at it as you thrust up and back, finally your climax rocking through you. He licks you through it, holding you open still, feeling you shudder around him, until you finally insistently tug on his hair enough to make him come away.

You dread to think what it must have sounded like on the other side of the door, the wet smacking having been all you could hear past the blood rushing through your own ears and you’re sure you couldn’t possibly have stayed silent. You watch him wipe his mouth with a sleeve, blushing the whole while before he slips out of the shirt. Fully exposing his bare chest and, finally, reaching down to unzip himself.

You’re sticky and soft when he reaches down, running a finger against you, opening you up to bump against you with his now, hard, cock. You’re not quite sure when it had happened, if it was a delayed reaction to a pill he took earlier, or if he simply was that turned on just by licking you to completion, but you’re not about to complain feeling how his head slips against your wetness, nudging at your clit before he angles himself down, bumping against your entrance.

“There he is, Bunny, got Lil’ Elvie here just for you baby, for my sweet lil - ah, bunny bun,”

Elvis pushes into you, a hand straying to stroke your labia on its way up to clutch at your waist, feeling the way you open up around him - for him. You groan at the sensation - it’s been a while, actually it’s been a long while; the last man you’d been with was the one currently pressing inside of you. He takes a moment to allow you to adjust, although you suspect it also allowed him a moment or two, either to calm himself down or encourage himself up.

“That’s it, honey, there we are, there we go, Oh Lord, here we are, I got you, gonna, gonna do such a good job, you just lie back. I got you, got -“

He’s fucking into you now, slowly, sweetly, accompanying each thrust with his mouth joining onto yours, and sloppy open-mouthed kisses against your jaw and neck. He’s trying to get the angle right, you can tell, but he’s decidedly less sure than he ever used to be, or least how you remember him. Taking longer to hit the right spot, and then almost immediately slipping away and losing it.

“Ah, that’s - that’s it, right there,” You almost cry out as he moves again, begging him in your mind to return to where he was.

Still, he’s not totally unskilled, and the motion of his body against yours, of the feel of his hand reaching down to play with clit, combined with the growling curses and praises falling from his lips, southern accent coming out harder as he loses himself in it, is enough for you to feel yourself start to shudder your way towards a second orgasm, clenching down onto him. That is, apparently, enough to set him off and he takes some time firmly rocking his hips into you, before, with a hand splayed on your tummy for balance, withdrawing fast to shoot across your stomach. He collapses there for a moment, lips in a pout and eyes closed from the sheer pleasure of the minute before.

He rolls off of where he’s pressed against you, where you’d welcomed being crushed under his weight, tummy pushed against yours, hairs tickling your own bare skin to flop onto his back. You watch his chest heave, eyes drawn to his tight little nipples, as he catches his breath back. You take a moment to swipe the cum off your belly with the edge of the bedspread, noting in your head to send it to the laundry later. You know you should be getting up to pee sooner rather than later but he’s holding out an arm to you, and you can’t bear the thought of refusing his offer. Instead curling into him with a sigh. He smells the same as you remember now, that same heady mix of sweat and sex, woodsy heavy cologne combined with the tint of smoke, and you hate how it sends flutters down your tummy again at how you feel a sense of familiarity from it. He murmurs into the top of your head, lips catching on your hair,

“You been here all along Bunny? Hopping around my plane?” You nod and you feel him grimace, “Didn’t recognise you without your ears, or your yittle tail.” You don’t mention that you very rarely wore ears on Big Bunny, and that he had in fact seen you both on and off the plane without them too. He tips your chin up to look at you and you make eye contact with his pair of guilt tinged blue eyes. Your nose wrinkles and he taps it with a finger, “Twitchy lil thing though still ain’t ya?” He pats your cheek, “Still gonna be my bunny? Ain’t got another bunny, got, got,” He stumbles over his words as he takes a breath in, clearly struggling to stay lucid enough to have the conversation, “got other girls, not got ‘Cilla no more, but got, got Linda … and, and - I got a whole list, baby, but no - you’re my only bunny.”

The thing is though, it’s never for long. You prefer the flights after a show to the ones before, he’s more awake before but he’s panicked like a tiger in a cage. It’s still difficult to tell what kind of Elvis you’ll be dealing with on any given night. There’ll be one flight where he’s perfect, drowsy from a show but awake and alert, flirty and fun, and then another where he sleeps for so long and so deeply that you worry he’ll never wake up. The worst are the ones where him and Dr Nick, his father or one of the other boys with that damned black bag disappear into the bedroom for the flight. He stumbles down the stairs after in a daze, clearly half out of his mind. The alternative - that you have to listen to his whimpering cries, that his body aches, that sleep won’t come to him - why won’t anyone listen to him? That he wants his mama, that everyone leaves him, “even my yittle yisa.” Is worse, it makes you wish for when he’s sedated or so over the top in his exuberance that you know his ‘vitamins’ have a lot to do with it. You don’t know how much longer you can silently pick up the pieces - cleaning up when he’s trashed the room in a rage, or left pill bottles littering the floor. Going in to him when he calls for you, acting as his waitress, nurse and on-call girlfriend all at once.

Linda accompanied him often, and you’re shooed out of the way of her keen eyes as they watch you a little too knowingly. She’s sophisticated and classy though, more than you would be in the situation. More than you are. You take the opportunity to swap with Georgia as often as you possibly can when you know she’s coming with him.

You’d avoided her too at first, often being the only one working on the little plane, not usually that many people on board - maybe ten at most, well within the capabilities of a single girl and the pilots. You hated that you felt the sting of jealousy, of worry that he was fooling around with her too, to the extent that when she, unprompted, had reassured you that she had not slept with him and nor would she ever sleep with him you had laughed it off. Pretending you had no idea what she was suggesting.

Linda though proved difficult to ignore. She was a presence - even when she wasn’t physically there - he was swearing to the boys they were through, broken up, done, and then would spend hours on the phone to her. He’d swear he didn’t give a shit about her anymore; just had to keep his promises to take care of her - but then a week later she’d appear on the plane with him. They’d sit cuddled together half the time, shouting and screaming for the other half. You had no idea how to react when she called you in to the bedroom, Elvis’ head pillowed on her thighs, dead asleep. She doesn’t ask you for much, a coffee and some water to be brought to them. You do so, still slightly surprised to be invited to intrude on what seemed like an overwhelmingly private moment. But then, a large part of your job is being invisible when necessary. You don’t expect to her acknowledge you when you return, but she does - she’s polite and courteous, but quiet, eyes never leaving his relaxed forehead. A cynical part of your brain wonders if it wasn’t intentional, if she didn’t purposefully call you in at that moment to prove she was different, but that line of thinking gets you nowhere. It’s not your place to be jealous.

Occasionally there’s other girls with him, you burn when Sheila comes aboard - you’d given up your cover dreams for this, and it feels like she’s the new kid in town - replacing you in every way. Better than you in every way, she’s pretty and lithe and young; you’re young and pretty too but you’re feeling it less and less. She’s above you - in the privileged position to sit at the side of the King while you have to settle for serving him and her. She had the cover, you had gotten pouring the drinks into branded glasses.

Elvis didn’t help how you felt - the first time she came on board he took it upon himself to personally introduce the two of you. He was sat with his legs spread wide, Sheila’s own legs over the top of his, an arm tucking her tight against his side out in the lounge area, the public display of affection almost too much for you to witness.

“Here she is!” He called out when you came around the corner of the half-dividing wall, and you balk a little before steeling yourself to walk over,

“Here I am.” You respond, flatly. He’d been particularly difficult recently, and your patience was wearing thin.

“Looksies - this here is my Sheila,” He raises her arm, she nods politely, “She’s - she’s a bunny too, she was on the cover.” You smile, what else can you do?

“Oh - wow, congratulations.” You nod at her, she’s silent.

“Two bunnies on the plane! My two bunnies together!” He laughs, and the tone and words immediately make you smart. There’s a cruel edge to it that you don’t quite understand, it’s not like you’ve ever turned him down or refused him, not like you’ve done anything to be treated second best - to have her paraded in front of you.

It makes your skin crawl, furious with every decision that led to this point, cursing those pretty blue eyes that you couldn’t refuse. Makes your skin crawl that he’d sworn you were his only bunny; and as ridiculous as it might seem, the evidence that that wasn’t true at all, that it was an empty promise makes you cry yourself to sleep for too many nights in a row. The first time you’d found a notelet, tucked under the bed having perhaps fallen out of a pocket or book,

“To Sheila,

Love you allways,

E.P.”

You take two weeks off, and debate whether you should even return, if it’s worth how it makes you feel. You don’t have time to see anyone else, and you’re not dating him. But then in some ways it makes sense all your emotions would be put onto him, you weren’t physically seeing anyone else, in general, exclusively cocooned in the Elvis Presley Show bubble. There is, you think after three glasses of red wine at home in your fancy new Memphis apartment, nothing else in your life. There is only Elvis. You wonder if you can use that as the excuse on your notice. You make yourself go back though, determined to get a grip of yourself, of your feelings, give it one last try.

It’s short-lived with Sheila, at least from your perspective up in the air above the reality of the ground below. Ultimately, you feel you somehow won. And although he may, every now and again, bring some pretty young thing up into the air with him or have Linda come on board during some of the tour he’s fundamentally alone again - the same group of men his only constant companions. You form your own opinion of them, watching two of them cringe at the sight of the little black bag of pills and needles and two others writing his signature out on blank cheques.

You’re horrified, making eye contact with Charlie, you think, you know their names now you need to start to use them. You open your mouth to say something, but uncertain about what, but he catches your eye, shaking his head and you wonder if there’s anyone on this plane willing to stick up for him. You’re forced ot consider if it’s something you can do too - turning a blind eye to all of this or if you’re going to be forced to leave because you were unwilling to do so.

But then, there’s a few months where he behaves differently, and he looks different - his face brightens up, and though you don’t dislike how he looked before you can appreciate that he’s slimmed down a little, looking less bloated than he had before. A renewed interest in the happenings of the group. Suddenly, he’s interested in you again - ensconcing you in his bedroom, telling the boys to stop telling you what to do or asking you for things,

“It’s not her job - her job is looking after me.” And you do, distracting him as best you can when that’s what he’s after - reassuring him when it’s not. You have to talk him down from a panic at one point and you’re thankful to have the memory of him calming you down to use as your guideline, even if you find irony in being the one trusted to provide the measured breaths.

The sex though, is still almost non-existent; he apologises constantly, and at one point you try to have a conversation about it, lying with him in the bed, cuddled together.

“I’m not your girlfriend, E, you don’t needta explain yourself to me,” He hushes you,

“You’re my girl as much as any of ‘em.” It’s your turn to stroke his cheek,

“I don’t need to be, you don’t hafta say that to me.” He just hums at you, tucking you further under his arm and cupping your face to his chest. That’s when the gifts start rolling in, before you’d even arrived back at your apartment for a few days off, finding on the doorstep a gift bag filled with lingerie. You smile when you see it, but you’re a little puzzled - he’s not even seen you in your underwear in months. Was this a hint? Were you meant to be the one putting out? You took it as you thought he intended it, picking out and wearing the little white set you found in there, but you were unsurprised when nothing came to fruition on the flight. You tentatively bring it up the next time you’re curled up next to him - the flight not really long enough to justify a nap but happy to be tucked up in his chest. You’re drawing circles with a fingertip through the gaping neckline of his shirt, absentmindedly thinking of how best to bring it up.

“El, what’s -, not that I’m not appreciative but you don’t needta buy me things - especially, especially if you’re not gonna get anything out of it.” You refuse to look at him, anxious for his response.

“Wasn’t that what you told me before? That you don’t dress for me?” You can feel him already grinning at you in anticipation of your reaction and you laugh, surprised he’d even remember that conversation from a year and a half ago.

“Well, You weren’t really my boss then.” He chuckles, wrapping his arm tighter around you,

“Oh-ho, so I can have my wicked way with you now huh?” He squeezes you hard against his side. You giggle, and he continues - his tone turning more serious; “Honey… - Bunny,” he laughs when you squirm at being called bunny still, “I’m just, I can’t, can’t do more at the moment but I uh, I do still - I like thinking about you all pretty for me unner that tiny little scrap of a dress.” He flicks the hem, leaving his hand grasping the back of your thigh and your respond in playful outrage.

“Scrap! You picked out this dress!” You smile into his chest as you feel his tummy move with his laugh, “Elvis - you don’t owe me anything, I don’t need to be bought things, you don’t need to feel like we have to do anything. I just, just want you to take care of yourself.” He hums at you, as non-committal as one can be.

He shifts a little so he’s lying on his side, brushing his hand down your body, fingers fumbling as they graze over your core, he seems remarkably less sure of himself than the last time he’d touched you, and you have to wonder if, despite all these girlfriends hanging around, he hadn’t actually been doing it with them either. Whether it’s because his fingers are a little thicker than before, or his skills are simply rusty, or maybe this is all some new technique he’d thought he’d try, he seems to take a while to do anything. He slips a finger between your folds, gathering the wetness you’d started to feel drip as a pavlovian response to his fingers anywhere near you, and rubbing it up your pussy but when he reaches the apex he seems to struggle, fingertip roving around, rubbing down but not quite finding your clit. You squirm as he continues to rub around just a bit too low, his finger making you pant simply from the virtue of it being Elvis’ finger, but not because of success with his ministrations. You panic, eyes flying open, wondering if you’re gonna have to fake it with Elvis beforehe pulls his hand away with a grunt.

“Ain’t no good little, my hands are hurtin’ too much tonight, got them, got them shakes again.” You nod even though you know it’s at least partially untrue - his fingers not in the least bit unsteady, if anything they’d been a little too solid.

“Just, it’s fine to just cuddle El.” He’s silent beside you for a few moments,

“One sec doll, lemme just -“ He shakes his arms out, staring at the curvature of the plane ceiling as if he’s trying to talk himself up. “Ok, ok Bunny, lets, lets give this another go.” He captures your mouth in his, sucking gentle little bruises across the bottom of your jaw, and lowering himself down to your neck. He concentrates there for a moment as he dances his hand back down your body, shifting your dress up again. His touch this time is more sure, more similar to how he’d always felt, the confidence appeared to be back.

He circles your clit just right, the two fingers curving inside you hitting just the right spot, and he moans with you,

“C’mon darling that’s it, oh that’s your lil button isn’t it - let me, just relax into me baby, relax, I’ve got you.” He crooks a finger, and your hips jerk, his other hand reaching over to pin you firmly against the bed while he takes the opportunity to brush directly over your clit once again. You squeal, panting, as he whispers into your neck,

“Such a good girl, good little baby Bunny, c’mon now,” He croons into your ear, voice unmistakable, “C’mon - for me.” His words, the sight of his face, the feeling of his fingers, it all combines so that in mere moments your back is arching off the bed, clutching at his arm as you tip over the edge.

When you’re back into the land of the living, and your breathing is starting to ease up a little, you’re able to sit up. You get onto your knees for him, expecting to reciprocate but he shakes his head at you, “Just, just lie with me, mama, let me cuddle, ‘s that alright? No-one lets - everyone wants somethin’ offa me.” You frown, standing up, his words manipulating you into believing you’d even asked him for something,

“Sorry El- there isn’t, there’s no pressure from me, I just thought because -“ You gesture to his still clearly wet and sticky fingers, “Just wanted to give it back to you.” He huffs, lying down again, and looking over his shoulder at you. Betrayal written on his face. It softens when you clamber back under the covers with him, and he tugs you closer.

It goes downhill fast, the tours just keep coming, and the random, sudden desires for trips here and there. You’ll be home for a scheduled three, four week break and get maybe 60 hours before a call comes in - he wants to be taken to Colorado, California, to Vegas. Before you know it you’re careening into 1976. He swings like a pendulum from happy to angry - the emotions impossible to keep up with. He wasn’t ever wholly staid before but everything seems suddenly emphasised and the erratic nature of his personality is making you wonder if you can do this job much longer. It’s worse without a girl on board. Linda and he may have argued but he was almost always easily soothed. But she’s coming on less and less, and he’s telling tales about her more and more with the boys. Expressing how he hates her shopping now, how she deserves it but doesn’t earn it, how he can’t stand her nagging. He seems to have more girls than ever before, one or two picked up for him in every city, but they never seem to make it onto the plane.

Without the settling presence of a girlfriend that role falls to you, and although you’ve now spent countless hours with him it’s different; the fits and starts with which you get to see him is completely different to being a girl who’s able to be with him in his home - you find him almost overwhelmingly difficult to manage. The first time he’s brandishing a gun and threatening to shoot you for attempting to put him to bed, you laugh - not expecting to be essentially thrown off of the plane for weeks for such an indiscretion. It doesn’t get mentioned again - not until a while later; simply brushed over, forgotten about. There’s no apology, just suddenly one day, a bashful joke gets made with Elvis tucking his chin to his chest to look at you shamefacedly but almost immediately he cracks a laugh, and you’re forced to laugh it off with him.

His health swings like his moods, it seems to be entirely dependent on a number of factors that all seem to change within a minute’s notice. It’s a combination of his mental health, the exact cocktail of medication at any given time, the number of shows he was doing, how often he was getting to see Lisa, whether he’d been home recently, the financial situation or whether he’d recently liked how he’d looked in the mirror. As soon as any one of these changed it would either send him crashing into lengthy highs or a period of lucidity.

You didn’t sign up to be a nursemaid - it wasn’t the role you were expecting to fill but as time goes on it seems the only form of relationship you can have with him. You don’t truly mind, although you do wish for more, if he’s going to let you have this part of him - the part of him that’s sad and lonely, the part of him that he’s ashamed of - even if just for a few hours on a plane where he can pretend to be distinct from real life, then you think you deserve the same relationship back on the ground. But you would never broach that with him, not even when he’s alone, or when he brings a girl on board who doesn’t even make it to the next city. All you can do is stay.

The last part of the year is particularly hard. He looks awful, you only really get to see him directly after a show, the schedule doesn't allow for more spare days in each spot, and the sweat pores off of him. You can’t say he doesn’t look appealing in some ways, you wouldn’t mind licking him clean, or crawling onto his sweaty chest. But in other ways, his face growing paler and yellower, it makes you cringe away from him. It’s not that you don’t want to spend time with him, or that you’re disgusted - a fear he’d mumbled into your stomach one night recently, it’s that it’s so difficult. Difficult to watch a man, so otherwordly virile to succumb to earthly decay. It’s almost painful - and it’s made all the worse by the fact that you’re only given the choice to witness it in fits and starts - over a tour you watch him, keeping a close eye, spending hours alone with him. But then, as you land back in Memphis, or Vegas, or California you lose him again - with no idea of how he’s getting on physically or mentally, no idea of how he’s feeling. He grows distant - and all you want is to make his journey easier, although the destination at this point is unclear.

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TAGLIST:

i’m just gonna tag anyone that’s specifically msged me about it and/or anyone who commented/reblogged the last two chapters - there’s one last chapter to this ‘verse coming soon(ish) so lmk if you wanted to be added or taken off the list before then :))

@ellie-24, @whositmcwhatsit, @thatbanditqueen, @vintageshanny, @doll-elvis @18lkpeters @prompted-wordsmith @richardslady121 @meetmeatyourworst @marriedtopresley @steph-speaks @a-literal-no-name @elvisabutler @precious-little-scoundrel @eliseinmemphis @iloveelvis @literally-just-elvis-fics @livelaughlove-talia @angelborn1

#elvis smut #elvis x reader #elvis fanfic #big daddy elvis #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis presley x reader #be-my-ally #elvis x you #big bunny #big bunny vibes #be my ally

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geekywritings · 11 months

Text

“What now?” “You kiss me.”

Sooo, I was actually trying to work on the request with the sarcastic reader, but somehow the story took a life of its own. Buuut, I kinda like the result, so I want to share it with you anyway. I will get to the request once sarcastic muse hits!

So have instead a reader that uses sarcasm, flirtation and wit as a shield, but Cal sees right through it. Let’s just say, reader is having some trouble witht that and cuteness ensues.

___

Witty, sarcastic, snarky and flirtatious. Those were the words most would use to describe you and you were fine with it. The quips and dry jokes were your shield. You last defense after being betrayed one time too often.

You could easily joke with people, because that meant you could leave serious topics aside and drown your fear. Your “What are you afraid of? As if these guys can even shoot properly” during battle was the perfect cover for trying to suppress the memory of this type of weapons being aimed at you and your master.

Flirting was another great tactic to keep people emotionally at arm’s length. Because as long as you flirted, nobody asked anything deeper. Your heart was safe as long as everything remained superficial. And for the longest time, that had worked great.

Until you met Cal Kestis.

Despite everything you tried, he was worming his way through your defenses one smile and kind gesture at a time.

He laughed at your sarcastic quips during battle, when you mocked your enemies, but always asked if you were alright afterward.

He accepted the nicknames you were throwing his way, but always gave you that special smile that had your heart skip a beat whenever you did call him by his name.

He got angry when you flirted with some random guy, constantly stepping in and taking over the conversation himself and he always had a comeback for whatever witty comment you offered.

It was frustrating, to say the least.

You had been betrayed by your soldiers. You had been betrayed by the person who had initially offered you shelter and protection. And you had been betrayed by a man you thought had loved you. You were done trusting.

But how could you not trust Cal? How could you not fall in love when he proved every day that he was different?

“Why are you like this?”, you exploded one evening, the frustration breaking through, while you sat over a game of sabacc together in the Mantis. The two glasses of alcohol you’ve had probably weren’t helping.

“Like what?”, Cal asked, visibly taken aback.

“Like… you.”

Your less than clear answer earned you a raised brow.

“I have no clue what you mean.”

A frustrated huff escaped your lips and you leaned back on the couch, the game forgotten for a moment.

“Kind. Understanding. Loyal. Empathetic. Gentle. Funny. Bloody handsome too!”, you enumerated.

“And that’s bad?”

“Yes!”

“How much did you have to drink?”

You gave him a sarcastic look at that. “Clearly not enough.”

Cal leaned back himself, wondering where this was all coming from.

“You are making it so bloody hard, you know?”, you continued. “To not fall in love with you.”

You had tacked on the explanation before he could ask about it and the words had both of you go absolutely still. Only the humming of the engine was heard, as the Mantis rushed through hyperspace.

“You are in love with me?”, the red-haired Jedi was the first to speak hesitantly.

“No… Yes… I...” You sighed. “I didn’t want to fall in love again. I didn’t want to trust again. Why do you think I kept calling you Starboy instead of your name for the first few weeks? I thought you’d just leave anyway.”

“But I didn’t leave.”

“No, somehow you didn’t. And you always laughed at my stupid dry jokes.”

“I didn’t think they were stupid.”

“And you were never put off by my sarcasm somehow.”

“I think it’s actually endearing.”

“And that’s the problem, Cal! You are perfect. For me… and I… I’m not ready to have my heart pulled out, quartered, fried and served in pieces again.”

You were on the brink of something here, Cal sensed it and he chose his next words with care. “And you think I would do that to you?” His voice was soft, almost a whisper, as he stared at you.

Seconds ticked by until you breathed a simple: “No.”

Slowly, Cal shifted closer to you on the couch, but didn’t dare reach out.

“You are special to me, Y/N. I would rather face Vader again than hurt you like you have been hurt before.”

Wait, what? He sounded as if he knew, even though you had never revealed the betrayals that plagued your heart. He seemed to read your expression just right, because he rubbed his neck, almost a little embarrassed all of a sudden.

“Psychometry… I can’t always control it. I saw things… when I cleaned away some of your clothes.”

“When?”

“Shortly after we’ve met.”

You were left stunned. He had always known and he had never treated you with pity or tried to offer support where it wasn’t asked for. He had just been himself around you.

“What now?”, he asked after another silence, unsure where you stood at this point.

“You kiss me, Starboy. That’s what.”

He did. There would be time to continue this strangely deep talk later.

#cal kestis #cal kestis x yn #cal kestis x you #cal kestis x reader #jedi survivor

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swannieluv · 4 months

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｡ﾟ･The Bold Mendacity – 𝟓. First friend

✦⸼࣪⸳ 𝐆.𝐈 𝐕𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 (𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐜) 𝐱 𝐆𝐍!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 <3

✦⸼࣪⸳ 𝐖𝐜: 2,6k

✦⸼࣪⸳ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆!!: Mentions of drowning and almost death.

✦⸼࣪⸳𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐨: ♡

✦⸼࣪⸳ A/N: Hii! I hope you guys enjoy this fluffy chapter. And yes this is the longest one until now because I definitely wanted to give you all some happiness 😊 /hj

Your lungs ached as if they were burning from the inside, which was ironic because the only thing leaving them was water. Being able to breathe freely was liberating. The worst part of drowning wasn't "dying", but the pain of breathing water.

"H-Hm... do you want me to call someone?" The blond boy tried to help you, patting you lightly on the back. Nothing came of it, but the intention had been good.

"N-No..."

You decided to stay lying down, the pain in your body oscillating between mild and sharp stabs. The horrible sensation of wet clothes sticking to your body and a gigantic tiredness made you close your eyes once more, only to open them again with a strong jolt.

"D-Don't die, please!" The boy looked a little desperate, thinking that your final moments were happening right in front of him.

"I won't die... I think."

With his help, you carefully sat up. The boy seemed very kind and had probably been the one to save you, which was strange as you remembered sinking into an abyss. In any case, it would have been impolite not to thank him.

"Did you help me? Thank you."

"It was...no big deal, the lake is shallow." he pointed to the body of water next to you. It was so shallow that the deepest part would probably reach an adult's shoulders.

'How did I drown in such a stupid thing?'

Your perplexed gaze stared into the lake. Your jaw dropped at the revelation that you had sunk into a lake less than two meters deep. Was it all just an illusion and you had just fainted because of the water? Well, something certainly wasn't right about that.

"Well, I should introduce myself..." You gave him a nice smile and extended a hand towards him so that he could shake your hand. "I'm [Name]."

He shook your hand carefully, as if you were made of glass. He really didn't want to end up hurting you somehow.

"My name is Freminet..."

For the first time, his lips curved upwards into a calm smile. You finally knew his name.

"Why did you run when I saw you inside?"

"I was embarrassed, I thought you'd come to talk to me and I wouldn't know how to answer... you know... I'm sorry." His smile closed, replaced by an embarrassed face and a lot of fidgeting with his fingers. Freminet was clearly embarrassed, but he didn't want to admit it like that.

"No, no, no, no," shaking your hands and head rapidly in denial, you contradicted him. "I'm the one who should apologize, I made you sad... and now you're all wet and might get sick."

You had to find a way to take the blame off him. It wasn't nice to see someone shy like him blaming himself for things that weren't in his control, especially someone as young as him. It brought back memories of dark times when you were afraid to show up for the crowds during festivals.

"You should smile more and act like you really like it. Do you think people would love a 'Child of Prophecy' who can't even grace them with their presence?" Your former nanny pointed a finger at your face, a slightly annoyed expression on her face.

"I-I'm sorry-"

"If you were really sorry, you'd do better at your job."

You really liked that nanny, she ended up dying trying to protect you from the charges when they took you to court. So why were you questioning her attitudes now? Maybe it was the ungrateful part of you speaking a little louder.

"All right... oh, wait..." His eyes slightly widened. Freminet quickly reached into his pockets and started pulling out various mechanical parts.

"What are these? And how can so much fit into such a small pocket?"

The parts were soaked, they would most likely have to be discarded as they would rust due to the state they were in. They consisted of a few screws, chains and even a thin copper wire.

"They're my mending equipment. Mom always brings nice things when she gets home from work, but they're always broken..."

"So you fix them." You looked at him with a proud look, hoping you'd got it right.

"Yes... but I never know where they'll end up."

A calm wind blew over you. Even though it was warm, it made you both shiver because of being soaked from head to toe.

An awkward silence hung in the air after Freminet's reply, neither of you had anything to talk about at the moment. His hands carried those little pieces, which he stared at. Taking advantage of the silence, you stopped to think about everything that had just happened.

'I need to find something, but what? I couldn't hear anything in the end. Besides, what was that place? It was the center of Fontaine, but a little different from how I remember it, even if I didn't leave the temple much... Nine years have passed since I died, so I'm sure what I saw was in the present.'

Something even more disturbing was troubling you. When you were near the fountain, your reflection was no longer your own. What did that mean? You had never seen that child before in your entire life.

'That wasn't me. What kind of connection do I have with that person? Why did that place show me like her? How did she manipulate Hydro without a vision? Why-'

You were interrupted by a hand on your shoulder. Freminet was pulling another of his trinkets out of his pocket.

"You're sad, aren't you?"

"A little..." your hands hugged your knees, helping you feel a little warmer. "But what's that?"

You pointed to the object in his hands, which he placed closer to you. It was like a little machine in the shape of a dog. It was cute, but it was a bit wet and would probably need to be in the sun for a while before it would turn on.

"It's... something I fixed recently. I didn't give it a name."

He put the little machine down, pressing a button to test it. The puppy took three steps before falling to the side and turning off.

"It's broken." You looked pityingly at the object's failure, wondering if Freminet would be hurt by it.

However, Freminet just picked it up and gave it a few light slaps before turning it on again. This time, the puppy was able to walk forward by moving its mechanical paws.

"Can we..." He turned red with embarrassment and turned his head away. "Can we be... friends?"

"Oh."

You blinked twice when you heard his question. No one had ever asked you that before, absolutely never. Was that how people formed friendships? Wasn't it too direct? But for some reason, you couldn't help but smile.

"Of course!" You grabbed one of his hands and looked at him with starry eyes "Now I'm your new friend, [Name], and you're my first friend!"

Maybe it wouldn't hurt to be friends with someone your own age. It wasn't as if Freminet had the power to condemn you to death or anything. A friendship was something you'd never had before, so you were excited to form one with Freminet.

"So as a gift of friendship, I'll give you this." He placed the puppy in the palm of your hand.

"For me, really?! Thank you!" You hugged him tightly, basically throwing yourself on top of the poor thing, who was unresponsive and then very embarrassed.

"You're welcome... it's a... gift from a friend."

You smiled at each other. Was it so strange to make friends with a child you'd only met a few minutes ago? Well, they say children are quick with that sort of thing.

It didn't last long, because when you realized what you'd done, you quickly separated in a way that didn't look like you were running away from him. Mentally, you couldn't help wishing that you would grow up soon. These habits that your mind had created, because it was that of a child, ended up putting you in many situations that were normal for children, yet shameful.

'Damn childish impulses.'

"You could give him a name."

A name... a few ideas crossed your mind. One in particular was very tempting, maybe it would work.

"Then I'll name it Furina."

"Fu...rina?" He looked at you with a confused face. This was not a name commonly used, nor even allowed in the nation of Fontaine, as it was disrespectful to the name of the Archon. "Isn't that... isn't that forbidden? They say we can't name animals like that."

"Yes, but you won't tell anyone. Right, Freminet?"

He looked like a sad puppy begging for more snacks. It was the first law you'd broken in your life, apart from the ideological falsehood that decorated your criminal record in the past, since you were supposedly "impersonating the child of the prophecy".

"I'm not going." Freminet scratched the back of his head. He didn't look like a child who liked lying to others or hiding secrets. "But why did you choose that name?"

'Damn, I forgot to think of an excuse-'

"Well, it's because I really admire Lady Furina. I want to honor her in this way!" Your hands fiddled with the little mechanisms of the robotic animal.

"But are you sure you want to leave it to me? I'm not very good at looking after pets."

Your eyes met his. You needed to make sure it was really yours before you did whatever you wanted with it.

"Mhm... Mom always brings new trinkets, so I can always make more. She comes to pick up food from time to time, but this time she didn't want to leave me home alone."

He really seemed to know what he was doing, maybe one day you could ask him to fix your closet door that has come apart. Since Clorinde wasn't very good at this sort of thing, a loose screw turned into a dismantled door.

"Isn't it strange to walk around with that?" It just slipped out of your mouth without thinking, and then the consequences came.

'Oops...'

He seemed to be a little hurt by what you said. His eyes glistened a little with unshed tears. He was a bit offended by the statement but didn't want to speak.

"T-That's not what I meant." You waved your arms in front of him, trying to clear up the misunderstanding. "I've never seen anything like that before..."

Your bad habit of saying things without thinking every now and then was something you urgently needed to fix.

"Will you pardon me? I'm really sorry..."

He shook his head and wiped his eyes with his hands. His clothes were almost dry, which was good, as it would prevent him from catching a cold.

You looked out at the lake again. But this time a wave of nausea hit you as soon as your eyes came into contact with it. Your head turned quickly in another direction, as if you were running away from it.

'Hm... I don't think I'm going to want to go near it any time soon.'

"Are you coming back to visit me more often, Freminet?" You fiddled with the present once more, caressing the robotic pet's head.

"I don't know, this is the first time I've come..."

His face paled completely. His eyes widened and he stood up instantly.

"I-I split up with Mom. She must be worried."

He looked at you with those glassy eyes, as if asking for help. This was the time to repay him for what he had done for you.

"Don't worry, I know the way back to where she is. Come with me!" You held out a hand to him, which he held while you guided him. His mother must probably be desperately looking for her missing son.

"I shouldn't have gone away from her... I'm seven years old now, but I still give mom a hard time like this."

Freminet was almost in tears. With his head down and his voice weak, he felt very guilty for worrying his mother.

"Oh, you're the same age as me then. I turned seven a while ago."

"Hm? You're only seven? Then why do you talk like an adult?"

You froze, was it really that obvious? Sister Dora and Clorinde never commented on it, although Clorinde was a mature child in her own right.

"I-I don't talk like an adult! I'm quite a child, you know!" You stuck your tongue out at him in the hope of disguising your behavior.

You walked for a while until you finally reached Freminet's mother, a pretty woman with blonde hair like his, who was in a corner being consoled by other women. She seemed very shaken by his disappearance, using a tissue to wipe away her tears.

"I should have paid more attention to him. I-"

Her eyes finally stopped on the two of you. The woman got up and ran over to Freminet, hugging him tightly as if she didn't want to lose him again.

"Freminet! You scared your poor mother. Where were you? Are you hurt?!"

She put a hand on his cheek, her face a faint smile of relief.

'Hm...' You stood in the corner, watching the scene unfold before you. Could this be how Sister Dora felt when you disappeared into the temple?

"Sorry... I got distracted and wandered off, but I made a friend." He looked at you, causing his mother to turn her head in your direction too. She was a little embarrassed to be seen like this by one of her son's friends.

"I'm sorry, I didn't see you there." She smiled gently at you and wiped her tearstained face with her handkerchief, trying to look more presentable. "It's nice to meet you, hm...?"

"[Name], just [Name]."

"[Name]... It suits you. Thank you for being Freminet's friend..."

She got up and took the monthly food offered by the temple. She seemed to be getting ready to leave, after everything that had happened. Freminet's mother whispered something in his ear, which seemed to put him off a little.

"We'll have to leave now, say goodbye to your friend."

She patted his head, pushing him slightly forward. Freminet didn't seem happy about having to leave.

"Goodbye, [Name]. Don't forget me... please."

"I won't, don't worry."

You hugged him one last time before he left. The scene was seen by the women who were with his mother earlier and by some of the temple volunteers, and would surely have reached the ears of Clorinde or Sister Dora. And so you waved goodbye to him, while watching through the window their silhouettes moving away as the sun set.

Passing through the corridors, you decided to go back to your room to finally rest after everything that had happened. Freminet's gift in your hands reflected the sunlight that hit it.

For some reason, as you walked, you felt the urge to cough. The only thing that came out of your incessant coughing was... water. And that's how you realized:

You couldn't breathe anymore.

Along with this, a strong dizziness caused you to lean on a nearby pillar. And with the agonizing pain in your lungs returning, you fell to the ground.

Your eyes frantically searched for anyone around, finding no one. Despair seized your veins as oxygen failed to reach you.

At the end of the corridor, a figure hidden by shadow gave you the shivers. As if you were facing the somber face of death itself again.

'How many times will I have to die in the same day, damn you!-'

You were cut short out of your thoughts by that voice again. The same voice you heard when that monochromatic Fontaine collapsed.

"˙ƃuıʞɔıʇ sı ʞɔoןɔ ǝɥ⊥"

#fontaine #genshin fontaine #genshin impact #genshin platonic #genshin x reader #freminet x reader #freminet x you #genshin x you #genshin x gender neutral reader #The Bold Mendacity

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katiekatdragon27 · 5 months

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Holy moly a rendered drawing!? And it's Flatland!? AND it's sort of gijinka-fied?!?!?!? Crazy.

Drip or drown fellas? Be honest lol.

Okay, so some design choices I wanted to point out and "explain":

A. Square does not look any different because he is peak performance. The whole thing of 2D creatures who live "water" and look like amoebas was too good to tarnish. I kept it simple, gave him some boots to help with gravitational pain n stuff on his feet, and he has glasses cuz I saw some character in the movie with them and I thought it would vibe well. He looks a little older because of them, but whatever. The nerd needs to look like a nerd.

A. Sphere I took so many liberties with. At first, I went with the most basic CEO fit I could come up with, found it boring, gave him a vest and bowtie, cut the bowtie for a normal tie and gave him rainbow suspenders, then gave him the bracelets for funsies. The most consistent thing through all the versions was the analog watch (that he probably can't read lol).

He doesn't really feel like a CEO anymore, but c'mon, in canon he's a gold sphere and the only metallic solid. He's gonna look flashy and extra. It's a given.

Are you reeeally a Flatland fan if you haven't drawn or edited an image of A. Square being yeeted like a frisbee?

I feel like this is a staple, and I found this really amusing stock image that just fit so well.

I made the whole Flatland species friend-shaped. As an OSC person (yes I'm working on stuff related to it give me a sec), I could not see the Flatlanders as anything more than the silly stick limbed creatures of that community.

Spacelanders are different, but that's more so because of how the book refers to them. "Spacelanders" in the book, although the context is probably just different 3D shapes, are addressed as people who have people systems who do people things. So, I designed accordingly. (Also, I did NOT want A. Sphere to look like that one Pacman TV show. I think I would have combusted before finishing if he did.)

These were some doodles I worked with for just looks purposes. The tendrils(?) on their corners are the longest ones on their bodies. Circles have them all mostly uniform cuz they're boring.

Below is a close up of A. Square, some progress photos, and the reference image of meme.

Thanks again, and have a wonderful day :)

#i miss making rendered pieces for stuff I like #i wanted to make sphere more metallic-looking but i really did not want to spend 10000 hours on this piece to get it to look right #the bracelets he wears are those rubber ones and a slap one #the rubber one is there cuz of him giving out merch of the company and he seems like one of those guys who wears his own merch #the slap bracelet is a fidget toy lol #he's often told off for not being “professional enough”#no i'm not projecting you're just uncreative #don't ask how square's glasses stay up in the 3D #I don't know either #a super burnt ritz chip and a pac-man knockoff walk into a room what do they do?#flatland #flatland 2007 #flatland the movie #a sphere #a square #gijinka #humanization #humanized sorta not really #i may be cringe but i am free #feel free to hate lol #katiekatdragon27

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angelpuns · 8 months

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TMNT:HME Redesigns (again)

I probably won't ever be satisfied with the way these guys look, but I redesigned the lads :)

Leonardo is arguably my least favorite design even though I loved it when I first looked at it?? IDK

It's also got bits and pieces of info, I ofc know the most about Leo for obvious reasons :) I changed his mask to look kinda like a ponytail cause he wants to be pretty but in a he/him way :) Also there are some other scars/marks but they'll be explained later. He also has a beauty mark now :)

I'll probably post the sketches where I worked through ideas later? Idk

Donnie:

Donnie took the longest for some time??? the head shape was giving me difficulty :/. Anyway, he's got a couple of little bruises because he falls a lot/bruises easily for a reason that'll be discussed later :) also stole Raph's tooth gap and gave it to him completely on accident lmaooooo

Raph:

Raph got a lot of changes cause I didn't like his design at all, this design is much more appealing to the eye tbh. He also has a lazy eye that he is supposed to be wearing corrective glasses for but he refuses to :/ Idk how accurate the heights are I just kinda eyeballed the lineup and hoped for the best - Leonardo is definitely 5'6" it's more just guessing based off of him.

Mikey:

I really like Mikey's design - it's not too far off of his original because I liked that one too, but this one captures the energy I was looking for. I love his color palette so much, it's v nice.

Also he has a few scars from various accidents - Mikey tends to get hurt in the weirdest most ridicukous ways? Like he was hit by a firework twice - yeah.

Also he wears hand me downs, the only thing that he owns that is new are his gloves, kneepads, footwraps and mask.

So those are the newest designs- hopefully the last ones but I'm already looking at Leo like ' you ae not good enough' (lmao funny I'm funny)

TMNT:HME Masterpost

#art #fanart #digital art #comic #tmnt #tmnt art #tmnt fanart #tmnt au #tmnt iteration #tmnt fandom #tmnt reference #reference #TMNT:HME #TMNT:HME Refs #TMNT:HME Info #angelpuns tmnt iteration

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peqchsoup · 2 years

Note

hi! i love your work! may I request #19 and #37 for tangerine?

Ahh thank you so much!!! I feel so blessed that someone actually sent a request and enjoys my work! I really hope you were referencing the bed prompts post because that's what I wrote and I love it (I will also write for prompt #37 at some point today or tomorrow, but for now here's Prompt #19!!

Prompt #19: "You were kidnapped and I won't let anyone else get to you again."

Hold Me Tight

Tangerine x fem!reader

TW: mentions of blood, violence, kidnapping, and implied r@pe

I didn't proofread this don't judge me

You knew you should've trusted your gut. Something felt very off.

You were sitting at the bar of a fancy restaurant, waiting for the Twins. In the past two weeks, you worked on one of their longest jobs with them and it turned out to be a huge success. So, understandably, you wanted to celebrate. Tangerine chose Le Gavroche, one of the most expensive restaurants in London.

-----------------------------------------------------------------

You should've known that Tangerine wanted to do something expensive to celebrate. That's why you were looking at the menu for Le Gavroche on Tangerine's sofa, scoffing at the prices,

"£64 for Turbot? Are you mad?" Tangerine's head whipped round to look at you, Lemon giving you the 'take it back' eyes.

"Am I mad? I dunno, am I mad? Lemon, am I mad?"

"Don't bring me into this." Lemon went back to playing some kind of Thomas the Tank Engine game on his phone. Tangerine looked back at you,

"That job took weeks. Lemon nearly died, then I nearly died. So excuse me if I want to celebrate with some expensive food. I can't use this money when I'm dead, so I may as well use it now!"

You watched as Tangerine's eye twitched, his jaw wound tightly,

"All I'm saying is that I'm not paying £64 for a bit of fish!"

"Well I'll fucking pay for you, I'll buy the whole meal so no one gets upset. There, happy?"

"A bit, yeah," you muttered, and went back to looking at your phone. You should have realised that Tangerine would pay anyway, seeing as you were sitting in his £1.6 million townhouse in central London.

----------------------------------------------------------------

So here you were, sipping your £30 glass of wine. When the bartender asked how you would be paying, you told him to open a tab under Tangerine's name and proceeded to recite his credit card details. You had those digits memorised a long time ago.

Tangerine wasn't a sugar daddy, per se, but he definitely had a sweet spot for you and if you wanted it, you usually got it. There was nothing romantic or even sexual about the nature of your relationship, he just couldn't resist your face. Which is why you were sitting at the bar in the black Rhode velvet midi dress with black Louboutin pumps and a Gucci canvas wrist pouch. Lemon and Tangerine took you to Harrods earlier that afternoon and watched you try on at least 13 dresses with the Louboutins. You were finally going to have your own pair of red bottoms and you couldn't be more excited. Tangerine's materialistic personality really came in handy sometimes.

Once you had picked out your dress and bag, the Twins led you to the men's section to get themselves a new suit each. Lemon quickly picked out a simple black Burberry two-piece, tried it on, and was happy. Tangerine, however, pondered over more suits than you did dresses, and landed on a Gucci two-piece in burgundy. They each got a black Tom Ford silk tie to pull their outfits together, and to yours.

You couldn't wait to see them all dressed up in their new suits. Admittedly, you arrived early to the bar. But upon checking your watch, they were already 10 minutes late, and you hadn't heard anything from them. It was probably just that Tangerine was being too anal about his moustache looking perfect that they ran over. So, you took a photo of your glass of wine and sent it to the groupchat you shared with the brothers,

Got a tab started in your name already, T! And the more drunk I get, the more I like to spend…

When you sent that message, you were certain you'd get a speedy response. Tangerine didn't like you getting drunk when you were by yourself. The world was too dangerous and too many men would try to take advantage.

A few minutes passed and you had no response. It wasn't like them to not respond quickly. Lemon was attached to his phone most of the time, so you were certain he'd say something, at least. You wondered if your message hadn't sent to their phones, so you stepped outside to see if there was an issue with the signal inside the restaurant. You tapped your message in the chat and the little 'delivered' label popped up. So nothing was wrong with your phone. You stepped back inside to close the tab and headed off down the street attempting to flag down a cab to go to Tangerine's and see what was going on.

As you were waving down a cab, a black van quickly overtook it, cut it off and pulled up right in front of you. That was a bad sign.

You tried to start running but you had barely turned around before a guy grabbed you around your middle, covered your mouth to stop you from screaming, and dragged you into the side door of the van. It all happened so quickly that no one even seemed to see it happen.

There was another man who closed the side door of the van behind the man who dragged you in and no one else in the back of the van. It sounded like there was only one driver up front, though you couldn't be sure. Three men was doable. You had taken out more before. Although you were better prepared in previous circumstances.

You started to thrash against the man holding you from behind, kicking at the one binding your feet. The man holding you had his arms around your arms, holding them down to your sides so you couldn't hit either of them. The one binding your feet sent a startling hit to your cheek, knocking you near enough unconsciousness to let them get on with what they were doing. Having your hands and feet bound wasn't ideal, but it was a hell of a lot better than being unconscious. God only knows what they would do if you were out cold.

You had no idea how long you'd been travelling, and you had a feeling that the lack of windows in the back of the van meant that anyone back there wasn't supposed to know where they were or how far they travelled. The van came to a stop and you heard the click of the handbrake, meaning you had reached your destination. The man who initially grabbed you to put you in the van took hold of you and threw you over his shoulder, holding onto your legs so you wouldn't fall off. He stepped out of the van and into what appeared to be a barn. Probably on an abandoned farm in the middle of nowhere.

The man carrying you dropped you onto the ground with a thud and lifted you so you were on your knees in front of him, your hands tied behind your back. He stepped aside to reveal the leader of their gang; a tall man with a pistol held at his side.

"No offence, guy," you started, "but I have no clue who you are. Are you sure you have the right girl?"

He laughed and pointed the gun at your forehead.

"You may not know who I am, but I know exactly who you are. Lemon and Tangerine took my family from me, so I'm taking the closest thing they have to a family."

Oh.

OH.

This was happening. This was actually happening. You were going to die. You brain was going a million miles a minute. You'd never see Lemon and Tangerine ever again. You wouldn't get to tell them how much they meant to you. How much you loved Tangerine. Not that it mattered, you were going to die.

The gun clicked as the man cocked it, walking towards you and pressing the cold metal to your skin. You closed your eyes, preparing yourself for the end.

An bang rang out somewhere in the barn, your breath caught in your throat as you clenched your eyes closed tighter. You huffed out your breath quickly, breathing heavy when you realised it wasn't you who was dead, but the man who held the gun to your forehead. He lay motionless on the ground, blood pooling around his head. You looked up and there, directly in your line of sight 30 metres in front of you, were Lemon and Tangerine. They wielded huge guns and were wearing rain macs and rubber gloves and they just started blasting the gang members, somehow managing to avoid being shot themselves.

They mowed down the gang in minutes and came running over to you. Lemon started untying you whilst Tangerine threw his gun aside, dropped to his knees, and ripped his gloves off to hold your cheeks in his hands. He moved your face side to side, up and down before looking you directly in the eyes,

"Are you alright, love? You're not hurt, are you?"

You smiled at Tangerine's concern, feeling your hands and feet become free and rubbing your wrists to dull the ache of the friction burns from the rope, "I'm alright, T. I promise."

"I'm so so sorry we weren't at the restaurant in time." He looked genuinely guilty that him and his brother weren't around to keep you safe. The Twins helped you to your feet and Lemon pulled you into a hug. You leaned your head against his chest, listening to his heart while he explained,

"They sent guys to Tangerine's house to slow us down so they had a chance to get you. I'm so sorry, sweetheart."

"Hey, it's okay," Your voice was soft, "You found me and you saved me. I owe you both my life."

"You don't owe us nothing, darling."

You lifted your head to look at Tangerine, though still in Lemon's embrace. You noticed through their transparent rain macs that they were wearing their dinner suits.

"How did you find me?"

Tangerine smirked solemnly, "I guess your kidnappers weren't smart enough to turn your phone off. You still have your location shared with us." Tangerine lifted his phone to display the dot your phone made on the map.

"Oh, Tan." You left Lemon's arms and wrapped your arms around Tangerine's neck, pulling him close to you in a hug. He wasn't normally one for hugging, that was more his brother's style, but he quickly untensed and lifted his arms to put them around you. He placed his head on top of yours, giving a small kiss to the top of your head.

Lemon walked over and put a hand on your shoulder, giving it a tight squeeze, "let's get you home."

The drive home was peaceful. Tangerine drove while Lemon sat in the back with you, comforting you when he noticed you visibly shaking. He stroked your hair and shushed gently when he could hear you whimper.

Tangerine watched in the rear view mirror every now and then, vowing to himself that, from this moment, he would never let you out of his sight ever again. That meant he wasn't driving you back to your flat. No, absolutely not. He was taking you to his home where you would live from that day forward. You already had your own bedroom there for jobs that finished late at night, as did Lemon. Tangerine couldn't see any reason for you not to live there with him.

It was deep into the night when you got back to Tangerine's house. Lemon walked to his room and Tangerine led you to his where he undressed and slipped on a pair of pyjama pants before he helped you take off your dress and found one of his t shirts for you to wear. There were no boundaries between you and the Twins these days. You had known them for long enough and had done so many jobs with them where you had to change in front of each other that it wasn't a big deal anymore.

"Goodnight, Tangerine. Thank you again." You said quietly, shuffling towards the bedroom door to leave and go to your own room.

"Where are you going?"

"To bed." "You’re sleeping in here tonight, love."

"Why?"

"Why? You were kidnapped, love, and I won't let anyone else get to you again. I don't want you leaving my sight."

You smiled and shuffled towards Tangerine's bed, climbing under the cover and shuffling close to the wall so he had plenty of room. He lay down and pulled you close to him and you put your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat as it slowly lulled you to sleep.

"This alright, darling?"

You smiled, warmed by him asking for consent to just hold you. He was so polite.

"Mhm, goodnight Tangerine."

"Goodnight sweetheart."

#tangerine #bullet train #lemon and tangerine #bullet train tangerine #tangerine x reader #tangerine x you #aaron taylor johnson #tangerine and lemon

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fallingforfictionalcharacterss · 1 year

Note

This might be a bit weird but hear me out first. So reader is Gryffindor and friends with Harry and the others. Draco totally fancies her but isn't willing to do something about it so his friends decide to help him and throw a party with all their friends together and try to get them together (getting them to dance, spinning the bottle, her sitting on his lap (we all know Draco would like it way to much if you know what I mean) getting locked up for some time, I ve got soo many ideas but you do what you want) and reader and Draco get super flustered but don't want to admit it. And they fight it until they finally break? Just plopped into my mind, it's fine if you don't write it

Thank you so much for the request. I´m sorry it took so long to write it, but I got carried away a little bit. I really hope you enjoy the results.

Annoying

Warning: alcohol consumption, suggestive language, longest fic I´ve ever written (I think it´s around 12k)

A/N: First of all, I feel like this is a no-Voldemort AU, or at least one where he actually disappeared after he tried to kill Harry for the first time since I feel like the story wouldn´t work out if the rivalry would be about much more than the fact that they are from different houses and things that might have happened a really long time ago.

Secondly, I guess that my writing style in this fic is slightly different than in my other works since I included Draco´s POV much more, so let me know what you think about it.

You held your breath as you stared at the glass of vinegar in front of you as if you could change it into wine just by your thoughts. And actually, that was exactly what you were supposed to do, since you were practising non-verbal spells today. So you kept on hypnotizing the liquid, totally forgetting everything around you. But little did you know that not everyone was as concentrated on mastering the spell as you were.

Only a few seats next to you Draco Malfoy was more busy staring at you than at the glass that was standing on the table in front of him. He watched you closely, as you furrowed your eyebrows. Even if he couldn’t be exactly sure, the way you puffed your cheeks and the fact that your face slowly reddened told him that you were probably holding your breath right now. You narrowed your eyes even more and he noticed how your hands clenched around the table, whitening your knuckles. Then, all of the sudden you let out a heavy breath, your whole body relaxed, and your tensed face gave way to a proud smile. You took up the glass and took a sip from the red liquid that filled it by now. You pulled a face as you did so, but the grin on your face only widened.

Professor Flitwick must have seen the same thing Draco had just witnessed because he came over to you and inspected your cup. Draco couldn’t quite understand what he was saying, but the way your face reddened once more and how you puffed your chest proudly made him suspect that Professor Flitwick was very pleased with the result of your efforts.

Draco couldn’t help the small grin that sneaked on his face as he watched you whispering with your neighbour excitedly, before you -after you had made sure Professor Flitwick was now occupied with someone else- took another sip from your glass, that by now wasn’t filled with vinegar anymore but with wine.

“Now, Mr Malfoy, let me see what you have learned this lesson.”, a squeaking voice interrupted Draco´s thoughts.

You had been right. Professor Flitwick´s focus had by now actually shifted to another student and this student was Draco. The boy looked at the glass in front of him, which was still filled with vinegar. But how in the name of Salazar was he supposed to focus on the task if you were only a few meters away, managing to make -as you somehow always did- the things you were doing so much more interesting than the classes? Draco could see the disappointed look Professor Flitwick gave him as he saw that Draco seemed to not even have tried to transform the liquid. His gaze flickered to you one last time before Draco focused on the glass in front of him. He was Draco Malfoy after all. He would manage this small spell. And he wouldn’t let himself get distracted by some stupid girl.

So he took a deep breath and after a few moments, he actually managed to transform the vinegar, earning some encouraging words from Professor Flitwick, before the teacher left to pay the next student a visit. But if Draco had thought that, now that he had managed the spell, he could get back to admiring you, he was wrong. Because as soon as his gaze shifted back to you, he heard someone clearing their throat right next to him. He looked up and saw Pansy and Blaise looking at him in amusement.

“What?” Draco´s voice sounded sharp.

“Nothing.”, Pansy said, acting innocent. “I was just wondering why it took you so long to manage the spell. Were you… distracted?”

“I don’t think that´s any of your business Pansy.”, he snapped.

“Leave it Pansy.”, Blaise chuckled. “I think he got something better to do than talking to us.”

“You mean like worshipping (Y/n)?”, Pansy grinned.

“I don’t worship anyone.”

“Oh yeah, right. Maybe stalking would be a better word for this. Or creeping around?”

“That´s ridiculous.”, Draco spit out, but his friends noticed the rosy shimmer that appeared on his cheeks, confirming what they already knew.

“Why don’t you just go and talk to her, mate?”, Blaise asked, now in a more serious tone.

“How often do I have to repeat it, Blaise? I don’t fancy her. Just because she may not be as awful as all the other Gryffindors doesn’t mean I´m interested in her or something.”

“Never said you were.”, Blaise responded. “That´s what you said now.”

“I said I weren’t”, Draco corrected his friend.

“Sure you aren’t.”, Pansy chuckled. And as Draco had turned his attention back to the class, or more precisely to you, she added in a low voice to Blaise: “We have to do something about it, it´s just embarrassing to see him like this.”

Blaise just nodded in agreement.

And Pansy did something about it. You were totally clueless about her plans though.

That´s why you and your friends were more than just surprised when one day, you were hanging out in the Gryffindor common room, a first-year suddenly approached you, or more precisely, Harry.

“Someone is waiting for you outside. They told me to tell you, you should go out there.”, the boy said in a slightly shaky voice, not even daring to look Harry in the eyes.

Harry furrowed his eyebrows.

“Who is it?”

“Some Slytherins. They said they want to talk to the captain of the Quidditch team.”

Harry now looked even more irritated.

“Did they tell you what they want?”

The boy shook his head, shyly glancing up at Harry. Your friend sighed.

“Okay, thanks.”

The first year gave Harry a small smile, before he ran away, probably relieved that he was no longer involved in the situation.

“What do you think they want?”, Ron asked, who sat next to Harry and had listened to the conversation as well.

Harry shrugged his shoulders.

“There´s only one way to find out I guess.”, he said and stood up.

You exchanged a quick look with Hermione before you followed Harry and Ron to the exit of your common room.

When you stepped through the door, you saw Urquhart, the captain of the Slytherin team standing there, accompanied by Vaisey and Zabini, the other chasers, as well as Parkinson, who -as long as you knew- wasn’t involved in Quidditch at all. You noticed that Urquhart and Vaisey looked not very delighted to see Harry, while Pansy Parkinson had a huge grin on her face, and impatiently shifted from one leg to the other. Blaise Zabini on the other hand had the same illegible look on his face he always had as his gaze flickered from Harry to you and Hermione, who effaced, and then back to Harry.

An uncomfortable silence spread across you, as Harry and Urquhart eyed each other suspiciously. Only when Pansy Parkinson nudged the tall Slytherin, Urquhart cleared his throat.

“Listen Potter, you know that next week is the game.”

Of course, Harry knew. Everyone knew. The entire school already awaited the Quidditch match between Gryffindor and Slytherin. It wouldn’t decide yet which house would win the Hogwarts Quidditch cup, still, it was an important match, especially since Gryffindor and Slytherin had the undeniably best Quidditch teams in Hogwarts.

Harry just gave the other captain a short nod.

“And we thought we could make the entire thing a little bit more interesting.”, Urquhart continued. “How about a bet?”

Harry raised an eyebrow.

“A bet?”

“Yeah. You know, after the match we will throw a party and you and the others are invited.” Even though the words he said sounded surprisingly friendly, the Slytherin spit them out as if they were meant to be an insult. You noticed that he glared at Pansy while he said this, who gave him an encouraging nod. “Friends too of course.”, he added as he glanced at you and Hermione.

“What´s the catch?”, Harry asked.

“If you lose, you will organize everything. Food, drinks, stuff like that, I mean.”

“And if we win?”

Urquhart let out a small huff.

“As if.”, he mumbled, before he added through gritted teeth: “Then we will take care of everything.”

“Why should you do that?”, Harry asked.

“Like I said, it´s a bet.”

“And this was your idea?”

“Obviously, I´m the captain. I make the rules.”

“Yeah, you do for sure.”, Harry jibed.

You could see Urquhart´s jaw clench.

“So what do you say?”, he squeezed out.

“I´ll have to talk to the others first.”

“You are the captain, aren’t you?”

“Doesn’t mean I will make all the decisions on my own, does it?”, Harry responded. “Or is that how you do it?”

“Whatever.” Urquhart huffed. “Just let me know. And don’t think about it too long.”

He gave the others a short nod before he turned around to leave. The other Slytherins followed him, but you could have sworn you saw Pansy Parkinson winking at you before she followed the others, a smug grin playing around her lips.

“He makes the rules, as if.”, you mumbled, and Hermione, who had noticed Parkinson´s strange behaviour as well, nodded in agreement.

And that´s how only a week later, you found yourself all dressed up on your way to the Slytherin common room together with your friends. The mood was tense, even though you had every reason to have a good party. Gryffindor had beaten Slytherin, having a considerable lead. But that only made you worry more. Because if Gryffindor had lost, you would have understood that the Slytherins would have wanted to crow with their victory, but that way you had the strange feeling that they were up to something to make up for the disgrace they had witnessed on the pitch. The others shared your opinion, but for some reason, the Quidditch players of Gryffindor had decided they still wanted to go. And since Hermione and you, as well as some other Gryffindors, wanted to show your support for the team, you had joined them.

And now, your steps were echoing through the dungeons on the way to the one common room, you highly doubted any Gryffindor had ever been invited to. You couldn’t deny that you were slightly curious, but that didn’t change the fact, that you were still suspicious.

Only due to the fact Harry and Ron had snuck into the Slytherin common room once before, even if it had been a few years ago, you finally found the entrance. Harry stopped in front of the stone wall, that was adorned with the portrait of a snake and cleared his throat.

“Alright everyone, don’t forget; if something feels strange, tell me and we will leave again.”

The others nodded in agreement and as soon as Harry had turned around to the wall again, it gave place to the entrance of the common room. In the door, you could see a grim-looking Urquhart, who was still wearing his Quidditch jersey. He stepped to the side reluctantly, eying every one of you like a bouncer.

You tried to give the intimidating-looking boy a small smile as you passed him, but you already knew it looked rather wry. You stepped through the entrance, trying to stay close to Hermione, and looked around. The Slytherin common room was illuminated by a greenish-dimmed light, making it hard to see much, but from what you saw, everything in here looked very noble and expensive. The only thing that didn’t seem to fit in was the improvised bar at the other side of the room, equipped with many snacks and even more drinks. You could hear some music playing in the background, and now that you had arrived, someone turned it even louder. You couldn’t help but be impressed. It actually looked like the Slytherins knew how to party. Even if you would have never expected them to.

Hermione nudged you.

“What do you think?”, she asked in a low voice.

You shrugged your shoulders.

“I´m not sure yet.”

You looked at the others who were standing inside the room awkwardly as well as if no one of you actually knew what to do.

It was Katie Bell who broke the silence.

“I don’t know what you think, but if I´m offered free food and drinks once, I will also get some.”, she stated, before making her way to the bar.

You exchanged a look with Hermione and you shrugged your shoulders once more.

“She´s right I guess.”, you said, before you followed Katie to the counter.

“That´s ridiculous Pansy. We lost. I don’t want a party. Especially not if all the guests are blood traitors and mudbloods.”

“Don’t make such a fuss, Draco”, the girl stated as she dragged her friend towards the common room. “I´m sure you´ll enjoy it.”

“Give me one reason why I would.”

“Well, just look over there.”

Pansy and Draco had just reached the common room, which was by now filled with Gryffindors and Slytherins. She nodded in the direction where she had helped some others to set up an improvised counter not even an hour ago.

“Do you really think some drinks will make me feel better? We lost, Pansy. And even worse, I lost against Potter. If you ask me, he shouldn’t even be allowed to play after everything that…”

Draco stopped in the middle of his sentence as he realised something. Pansy hadn’t meant that some drinks would lighten up his mood. She rather meant a certain someone who was already enjoying their drink.

As Draco saw the knowing grin on Pansy´s face, he cursed himself for being so foreseeable. Never in a million years, he would have guessed that he would ever be so easy to distract, but yet, there you stood, looking even more beautiful than he remembered, making him forget what he had been mad about only seconds ago. He watched you, the way your dress stressed your curves, the way you threw your head back as you laughed at something your friend had just said, the way you were sipping on your drink and licking your lips afterwards.

“Did you want to say something, Draco?”, Pansy asked in a sweet voice.

Draco snapped back to reality and saw his friend grinning up to him.

“What is this all about?”

“It´s just a party.”

“Why is she here?”

“Why would you care?”

“I don’t care.”, Draco spit out, not daring to let his gaze shift back to you as long as Pansy watched him closely.

“Why did you ask then?”

“You´re really annoying, you know that, Pansy?”

Pansy let out a chuckle.

“I know.”

You were sitting on a couch together with Harry, Ron, Hermione and Katie. As you were sipping on your second drink, you slowly started to relax, wondering if this would actually be just a normal party.

“Someone doesn’t look happy at all.”, Ron suddenly stated.

Your gaze followed his and you saw Draco Malfoy standing at the bar, a drink in his hand, glaring at you with narrowed eyes.

“I hope he won´t ruin this evening.”, Hermione sighed, as she took another sip from her butterbeer.

“Let him do so. I really don’t care. We won, no matter what Malfoy wants to do about it.”, Ron said with a smug grin on his face.

He raised his glass.

“To Harry, who snatched the snitch right in front of Malfoy.”

You let out a small chuckle at his toast but raised your glass as well.

“To Harry.”, you agreed with the others.

As you took another sip from your drink, your eyes shifted back to Malfoy, who was still staring at you and the others. You couldn’t help but notice that he looked unfairly good in his green jersey, especially now, that he leaned so effortlessly to the wall next to him. You knew there were many things to dislike about Draco Malfoy, but in your opinion, the most annoying thing about him was how attractive he was.

“(Y/n)? Did you hear me?”

Your inadvertent admiration ended abruptly, as you looked back at your friends. Katie, who had followed your gaze, looked at you and raised an eyebrow in amusement.

“I know.”, she stated. “But still no reason to start drooling.”

You rolled your eyes.

“I never would.”, you responded, making her chuckle.

Ron looked at you in confusion.

“What are you even talking about?”

Katie and you glanced at each other and giggled.

“You wouldn’t understand.”, you stated.

“And I don’t think you even want to.”, Katie added.

Harry and Ron now both seemed to be completely irritated. Hermione´s gaze shifted from Katie and you to Malfoy and then to the boys.

“Trust me, you really don’t want to know.”, she just confirmed.

And as you looked back at Malfoy, your gaze met his for a split second, before you quickly looked away again. And he did so as well, the pulse of both of you now a little bit faster than before.

Not even an hour later you realized, you should probably slow down the number of drinks you were consuming. By now you felt lightheaded and slightly dizzy. For now, it felt good, but you knew how fast this could change and you had no interest in blacking out and waking up tomorrow with regrets. That´s why you quickly gulped down a glass of water before your friends dragged you to the dancefloor. You could feel the bass vibrating through your entire body as you slowly started to move your body to the music. You had to admit that no matter what you might think of the Slytherins in general, they at least had great taste in music.

Ron and Harry quickly lost their interest in dancing and scrammed to one of the couches again. You thought to yourself that it was probably for the better, because, even if you loved your friends dearly, they were terrible dancers. Now there were only Hermione and you left. For several songs you were just dancing and laughing, even if it was hard to talk over the loud music.

Suddenly, a tall figure stepped closer to you. As you looked up, you saw Blaise Zabini standing next to you, giving you a small smile. Then, he turned around to Hermione.

“Do you wanna dance?”

Hermione looked at the Slytherin boy with widened eyes. You were surprised as well since you overheard Zabini once telling his friends he wouldn’t even touch a muggleborn with a pair of pliers.

You looked at Hermione and raised an eyebrow, silently asking her to get her out of the situation, but then Zabini bent down and whispered something in her ear. You couldn’t understand what it was, but you saw Hermione frowning at first before it gave way to a rather surprised-looking face. Your friend gave Zabini a short nod before she took a step closer to you.

“Would you mind?”, she asked.

You looked at your friend, slightly irritated.

“The question is, would you?”

Hermione looked rather annoyed as she shook her head, looking at her feed.

“Then I don’t mind too. Just be careful.”

“You too, (Y/n). If something happens I´ll be right over there.”

You nodded. Then you watched your friend disappearing with Blaise Zabini in the crowd. You weren’t quite sure what irritated you more. The fact that the Slytherin boy had asked not only a Gryffindor but a muggleborn to dance, or the fact that Hermione had agreed. You couldn’t help but wonder what Zabini had told her. For a second you wondered if he might had threatened her, but Hermione wasn’t one to get scared easily and the way she had looked at him hadn’t been scared, but rather perplexed.

You looked around, scanning the room for your friends. Ron and Harry were still sitting on a couch, talking, while eying Hermione, who was by now actually dancing with Blaise Zabini, even if you couldn’t help but notice that neither of them looked exactly happy with the situation. Katie was by now standing next to the bar together with Demelza Robins, taking a shot of Firewhisky.

Just as you thought about, who you should join, since dancing alone wasn’t fun at all, someone bumped into you.

Draco´s eyes were glued to you. He followed every slight movement of yours. Your body moved just perfectly to the rhythm of the music. And even if he stood on the other side of the room, he could have sworn he heard your laugh ringing in his ears, even over the loud music and the babble of voices of countless people around him. His eyes travelled down your body and just as he was focused on the movements of your hips, he noticed the way your dress was slightly riding up, every time you raised your arms over your head, before you lowered them again, leaving him slightly disappointed, as the dress covered now more of your skin again, even if it were only a few centimetres. When his eyes travelled upwards again, he tried to take in all the details of your face, which was hard over the distance and in the dimmed light. Still, he noticed that small smile that played around your lips as you closed your eyes, to just drift and feel the music.

“You should join her.”, Pansy stated. She had magically appeared on Draco´s side again and knew exactly what was going through the blond boy’s head.

“As if I would be in need of this.”, Draco huffed, not able to tear his gaze apart from you. “Besides she looks perfectly fine on her own.” Oh, if you only knew how perfectly fine you actually looked.

“And both of you would look just adorable dancing together.”, Pansy said. “Don’t you think so, Blaise?”

The boy, who was standing on the other side of Draco, rolled his eyes at Pansy´s enthusiasm, but still nodded, grinning slightly.

“But I highly doubt that your beloved will be delighted if you interrupt her, while she´s having fun with her friends.”

“She isn’t my beloved”, Draco growled. “She isn’t my anything, to make this clear once and for all.”

“Not yet.”, Pansy smiled. “But luckily we are here to change this.”

“Who says I want to change it?”, Draco mumbled.

Pansy and Blaise chuckled.

“We ain´t blind nor stupid.”, Pansy said.

“No need to be ashamed of it.”, Blaise added and patted Draco´s shoulder, making the boy give his friend a deadly glare. “We support you mate.”

“And that´s why you will go over there now.”, Pansy announced.

“Pansy, I already told you…”, Draco started, but Pansy interrupted him.

“Not you. Blaise.”

Blaise looked at her in surprise.

“Me? I thought we were here to support Draco.”

“We are.”, Pansy said unswerving. “That´s why you will go over there and distract Granger, so Draco can get to (Y/n) unbothered.”

Now Blaise looked just as unpleased as Draco.

“I certainly won´t talk to that mudblood.”

“You won´t talk to her.”, Pansy explained patiently. “You will dance with her.”

“I will what?”

“Dance with Granger.”

“I won´t for sure.”

“You wanted to help Draco, didn’t you?”

“It´s your plan, why don’t you go?”

“Because you´re the boy.”, Pansy said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Even if I would go over there, and I´m not saying I will; what makes you think she will agree?”

Pansy smiled at her friend angelically.

“You´re smart Blaise. You´ll think of something. Remember, it´s for Draco.”

Draco had now a mocking smile on his lips.

“What is it, Blaise? Aren´t you willing to help your friend out by making a fool out of yourself and dancing with a filthy mudblood?”

Blaise looked from Draco and Pansy to you and Hermione, dancing happily. He clenched his jaw.

“You will better make a move, Malfoy. I swear to Salazar, if you don’t marry that girl, I will never let you forget this for the rest of your life.”

Then, Blaise took a deep breath, before he made his way through the crowd.

Draco watched in disbelief how his friend approached Hermione, saying something to her, making the girl exchange a few words with you, before she left with Blaise, leaving you alone and looking utterly confused.

Pansy smiled smugly.

“Now it´s on you, Draco.”, she stated.

“What? No, Pansy. I won´t go over there.”

“Think about Blaise. What he has done for you.”, Pansy tried to convince him.

But Draco just shook his head and crossed his arms in front of his chest, pressing his lips together like a stubborn child.

Pansy sighed.

“You really have to be forced into your happiness, don’t you?”

The girl grabbed him by his arm, pulling him towards you.

“Pansy, no! This is stupid. Let go of me. Now!”

Draco was for sure stronger than Pansy and he could have easily refused to follow her, but as he saw the people around him darting curious glances at him, he gave in reluctantly.

Only when they had nearly reached you, Pansy slowed down and let go of Draco.

“Now off you go. Have fun.”, she smiled.

Draco frowned.

“I don’t even want to do this.”, he hissed. “You´re forcing me.”

Pansy rolled her eyes.

“If you feel better believing this.”

“What am I even supposed to tell her?”, he whispered.

“Hey (Y/n), I´m really into you. Do you wanna dance? Because it would be inappropriate not to ask you this before I will rip your clothes off your body.”, Pansy said, imitating Draco´s voice.

“How often should I tell you, I´m not into her. And even if I were that´s not how I would tell her.”, Draco grumbled.

“Then think of something better.”, Pansy answered, by now slightly annoyed.

“I won´t…”

But Pansy had now enough of Draco´s attitude and gave him a small bump.

And since Draco had by now had some drinks, his balance wasn’t as good anymore as it had been a few hours ago when he had hovered on his broom a few meters in the air; so when Pansy pushed him forwards, he was, even with both feed on the ground, not able to be steadfast, but stumbled a few steps forward, directly into your arms.

With big eyes, you stared up at the boy, who was now holding onto your arm to keep his balance. You were hypnotized by his silvery eyes, making you feel as if the entire world around you slowed down for a minute. Draco seemed to be just as fascinated as you were since he couldn’t tear his gaze apart either.

It felt like hours, then again only a few seconds, until Draco cleared his throat and took a step back.

“I´m sorry. i…”

He stared at Pansy, who was watching the two of you.

“Oops, I´m so clumsy. Sorry.”, Pansy grinned, looking like she was anything but sorry.

You straightened your back and looked up to Draco again.

“Never mind. It´s… Nothing happened.”

“Right.”, the boy mumbled. “Nothing happened. I´ll just go then and…”

But Pansy once again had different plans. She stepped into the way, preventing Draco from leaving.

“(Y/n), you know, Draco was just looking for a dance partner. I would do it myself, but I think I´ve twisted my ankle, so if you don’t mind…?”

You looked at Pansy questioningly.

“If I don’t mind what?”

“Dancing.”, the girl grinned.

“Dancing?”

“With Draco.”

“With Draco?”

“Exactly.”

“Dancing with Draco? Me?”, you asked, sure you had misheard the Slytherin.

“Yes, you know, Draco had just told me, he thinks you´re a great dancer. He watched you from back there the entire time and he said…”

“Shut it, Pansy.”, Draco hissed, thankful that in the dimmed light no one would notice how his cheeks were reddening. Then he turned to you. “She´s just making fun. I never said this. I mean, I can´t know if you´re a good dancer because I never watched you. I mean why would I?”

You let out a nervous laugh, not sure what you should think about the situation.

“Yeah, why would you?”

“Well, then it is the perfect moment to find out if she is a good dancer, isn’t it?”, Pansy smiled. “I´ll get myself something to drink.”

And with that she disappeared into the crowd, leaving Draco and you alone.

You turned around to Draco again, who looked anything but happy. As he noticed your gaze, he looked down at his shoes and scratched his neck.

“Well, would you? I mean, it´s not like I want to, but I guess Pansy won´t leave us alone if we don’t…”

“Yeah, sure. I don’t wanna be bothered by her for the rest of the evening.”, you agreed.

Draco was a surprisingly good dancer. His movements were a little bit stiff, but he had a sense of tact after all. Sometimes you glanced up at him, but overall, you tried to avoid his gaze as much as possible. But while you looked anywhere but at Draco, you could have sworn, you felt his gaze burning on you most of the time.

After the song had ended, you took a step back and gave the boy a small smile. Draco returned it half-heartedly. Your eyes shifted, scanning the room for Hermione. But as you found her, you observed, that she was still with Blaise, now talking to him alongside the dancefloor. Neither of them seemed to enjoy the conversation, yet they looked pretty involved in it.

The next song, started, this time a slower one. Draco glared at Pansy, who was still watching the two of you with a contended grin on her face. Everything turned out just the way she had planned. You looked up at Draco, who was returning your gaze. The people around you were now dancing closer than before, adapting their dancing to the mood of the song.

“Never liked this kind of music.”, Draco huffed.

“At least one thing we can agree on.”, you answered.

Draco let out a small chuckle.

“Let´s just get over and done with this one and then nobody can complain anymore.”

You sighed.

“Hopefully.”

You stepped closer to Draco, still keeping him almost an arm length distant. But only almost. Draco raised one of his arms and brought his hand to your hip. You slightly flinched at the touch. Not in a bad way though.

“Is that okay with you?”, Draco asked. If it hadn’t been for the loud music, you probably would have noticed that his voice sounded slightly raspy.

“Do I even have a choice?”, you responded, but as you saw in the boy´s eyes that he was actually asking for your permission, you nodded. “It´s fine I guess.”

Draco carefully placed his hands on your hips, starting to move to the rhythm of the music slightly. Even more carefully, you placed your hands on Draco´s chest. The material of his jersey felt rough under the tips of your fingers. You could feel his heart beating under your hand, maybe a little bit faster than usual.

“Do I make you nervous, Malfoy?”, you teased.

“You whished.”, he huffed.

As you looked up at him, you saw Draco staring down at you. For some reason, you could have gotten lost in his eyes the second time this evening, but a small, nagging voice in your head told you that this probably wasn’t the best idea. Draco looked down at you with a serious face and such intensity in his eyes, that it made shivers run down your spine. You quickly lowered your gaze.

As the song ended, Draco´s hands lingered on your waist for one more second, before he stepped back again, his hands slipping from your hips and yours from his chest.

“I think that´s enough for one night, isn’t it?”, you asked.

Draco nodded in agreement.

“Even if you´re dancing quite acceptable for a Gryffindor, I think we both got better to do.”

“Well, then… See you around I guess.”, you stated.

A mocking grin appeared on Malfoy´s face.

“Don’t you say (Y/l/n)? How could we? We´re only living in the same place.” “You really are an idiot, you know that? And besides, I´d rather have it any other way.”, you snapped back.

“You think I wouldn’t?”

You just huffed in response and turned around to find your friends. Draco watched you leave, before he turned around as well, looking for Pansy and Blaise to give them hell.

The both of you had enjoyed the dance much more than you wanted to admit and were much more hurt by those last words than you wanted to admit, too. But neither of you knew that the other one was feeling that way.

You let yourself fall onto the couch right next to Harry. You could feel his gaze, as well as Ron´s lingering on you.

“What?”, you grumbled, maybe even more annoyed than you should be when you were having a good time at a party.

“We should be asking this, shouldn’t we?”, Harry said. “I mean, you and Malfoy…”

“There is no such thing as me and Malfoy.”, you hissed.

Ron rolled his eyes.

“Looked different five minutes ago though.”, he grinned. “You could barely keep your hands to yourself.”

“That´s not funny Ron!”

“You´re right (Y/n). This isn’t funny. You should better be careful.”, Harry said in a serve voice.

“I can take care of myself, Harry, thanks. But in this case, there is nothing to be careful about because there is nothing at all.”

“Ron is right, it didn’t look like this when you were dancing.”, your friend answered, still concerned.

“We danced because Parkinson forced us to, not because we wanted to.”, you clarified.

“Since when do you listen to Parkinson? And since when does Malfoy listen to anyone at all?”

“She literally pushed him right into my arms. And then she said she twisted her ankle and couldn’t dance herself.”

“Looks like she is perfectly fine again now.”, Harry stated and made a small gesture in the direction where Pansy Parkinson was now dancing with a Slytherin boy.

“That little piece of… But why would she do this?”, you asked.

But just as Harry opened his mouth, Hermione came up to you and sat down on the couch next to Ron.

“Look who we got here. The next traitor.”, Ron said with not as much amusement in his voice as when he had mocked you.

Hermione looked annoyed and irritated.

“What?”, she asked.

“Well, (Y/n) and Malfoy, you and Zabini… Do we need to worry about the Slytherins stealing our girls?”, Harry joked.

Hermione let out a huff.

“Certainly not. These were the worst minutes of my life.”

“What did he want from you anyways?”, you asked curiously.

“You heard what he said. He wanted to dance.”, Hermione said, avoiding your gaze.

“You´re a terrible liar, you know that ´Mione?”, you laughed.

“Fine, he… He wanted to talk me into helping him with his homework. But I think he hoped I would end up doing it for him.”

Even if this sounded more plausible, you noticed that Hermione still couldn’t look you in the eyes. You highly doubted that this was the entire truth, but Ron and Harry seemed to be satisfied by her answer. You could see Ron´s tensed body relaxing immediately.

“I knew he´s a git. You´re better off with us.”, he stated. “And helping us with our homework.”, he then added with a smirk.

You looked at Hermione and rolled your eyes.

“Boys.”, you mouthed, and Hermione nodded in response.

By now, the common room had emptied a bit. There weren’t many people left since it was already late. Also, the music had been turned down a bit, even if someone had put a silencing spell over the common room, so Professor Snape, who had his office nearby, wouldn’t notice.

The only Gryffindors left were Harry, Hermione, Ron, Katie, Demelza and you. You had sat down in one of the sitting areas and were passing a bottle of Firewhisky around. Those were your favourite moments at parties. When it was already late and not many people were left and you would just relax with your friends, talking about things, you probably wouldn’t be that open about if you wouldn’t have already emptied half of the bottle of whisky. You let out a comfortable sigh and rested your head on Hermione´s shoulder, just listening to the others talking.

But your cosy state didn´t last long. Pansy Parkinson walked up to you and let herself fall into one of the armchairs next to the couches.

“Mind if we join?”, she asked with a sweet smile.

“It´s your common room, isn’t it?”, Katie answered, even though she looked quite irritated, as well as the others.

Pansy´s smile only grew wider, as she clapped her hands.

“Great.”, she said, in your opinion a little bit too euphoric. She turned around in her chair, hailing someone. “I told you they´d be fine with it.”

You watched Vaisey, Zabini and Malfoy walking up to you, all of them looking as if they weren´t fully convinced by Pansy´s statement. As the boys sat down as well, silence fell over the group, as everyone eyed the others sceptically.

Somehow unsurprisingly, it was Pansy who raised to speak first.

“So what do you do for fun on such occasions?”, she asked.

As no one answered, she continued unbothered: “How about playing truth or dare?”

“Pansy, we ain´t twelve anymore. That´s boring.”, Draco muttered.

Pansy rolled her eyes.

“It will be fun, trust me. Especially with this.” She raised a bottle of Firewhisky.

“We´re already good, thanks.”, Harry responded, who held the half-emptied bottle you had already drunk in his hand.

“Trust me, Potter, it´s not the same.”, Pansy stated in a haughty voice. “Take a sip.”

She offered Harry the bottle, but he didn’t make any effort to take it.

“I didn’t poison it.”, the Slytherin giggled.

Harry just raised an eyebrow in response. Pansy sighed.

“Fine, if you insist.”

She took a big pull herself, pulling a face before she passed it to Malfoy, who was sitting next to her. The blond boy looked more than just harried by now, but gave in and sipped on the bottle as well, before passing it on.

Only when everyone had taken a pull, Pansy clapped her hands, grinning excitedly.

“Now, we can start.” “I don’t understand what this was about.”, Ron muttered.

“Easy, Weasley.”, Pansy said in a chipper voice. “I added some Veritaserum to it so no one can cheat. Even you should understand that.”

Everyone looked at the girl in disbelieve.

“Pansy, what the hell?”, Draco spitted out.

“That wasn’t the deal.”, Blaise said, his voice sounding louder than you had ever heard it.

But Pansy didn’t seem to care.

“Just relax boys. I saw a chance in Snape´s office and took it. I thought it would make the entire thing more interesting. You don’t have something to hide, do you?”

“You know very well I do.”, Draco responded.

Then he froze. Pansy chuckled.

“Well, looks like the potion already works.”

Your gaze flickered from Pansy to Draco. The boy didn’t only look annoyed anymore but also… scared? You weren’t surprised that the Slytherin boy had things he didn’t want to tell all of you, so had you, but what reason would he have to almost panic?

“That´s stupid. I won´t do this.”, Draco huffed and stood up.

“I could also ask you some things right away Draco. We don’t have to play for this.”, Pansy chirped.

Draco seemed to think about it for a second before he slowly sank back into his armchair again. He glared at Pansy as if he would love to practice all the unforgivable curses on her right away.

“I feel like this is going to be very interesting.”, Ron grinned.

At first, you wanted to agree with the boy, curious about what secrets Draco might hide from you, that seemed to amuse Pansy that much, but then you realized that it wasn’t only Draco´s secrets that might unearth today. There weren’t many things you would hide from your friends, at least none you could think about right now, but as you looked at Draco, sitting there opposite you, looking way too good, with his heated cheeks and his hair slightly scrubby, you realized that there were, in fact, many things, you weren’t exactly excited to spill in front of others. And especially not in front of Malfoy.

“And I feel like this is going to be very embarrassing.”, you muttered under your breath.

The game started slow before things got more interesting. At some point, somewhere in the middle of the game, Demelza Robins burst into hysterical laughter when she was supposed to kiss Harry and as Ron admitted -under the influence of Veritaserum as you pointed out- that Hermione was the most attractive person in the room, it left both of your friends with incredible red faces and made Harry and you looking at each other knowingly.

“(Y/n), truth or dare?”, Pansy spoke up as it was her turn.

“Dare.”, you answered without thinking about it. You were a Gryffindor after all.

“Kiss the most beautiful person in the room.”, Pansy stated, grinning superiorly.

“Easy.”, you said.

You turned your head and pecked Hermione´s cheek, making Harry whistle.

“Hold on, that´s it?”, Pansy asked, sounding slightly disappointed.

“What did you expect?”, you responded. “She´s my best friend. Of course, she is the most beautiful person.”

“But that´s not what I meant.”

“But that´s what you said.”, you contradicted. “Anyway, Katie, truth or dare?”

“Draco, truth or dare?”, Blaise asked his friend only a few minutes later.

Draco hesitated. He suspected Blaise would be up to no good, judging from the slight grin on his face. What would be worse? Answering a question, he knew would embarrass him, or doing something that would either make him look like a fool in front of everyone or doing something that would make everyone know the answer to the question Blaise had originally intended to ask him anyways.

“Truth.”, he slowly said

Vaisey hooted.

“Who´s your crush?”, Blaise simply asked.

Draco´s brain rattled. He wouldn’t be surprised if some steam would escape his ears from how hard he was thinking. He knew which answer Blaise expected to hear. But was there any way to not give it to him? The Veritaserum made his tongue feel heavy. He knew he wouldn’t be able to keep his answer to himself for long.

His gaze drifted from one person to the next, all eyeing him curiously. It got stuck on you. Draco noticed how you had slightly leant forwards, your hands resting on your lap, your lips slightly apart. You looked just as curious as the others, maybe even more. What undoubtedly distinguished you from the others was the way his answer might affect you. And how you would react if you would hear your name coming out of his mouth. But there was something else that differentiated you from the others. How effortlessly beautiful you looked tonight. And at that moment he suddenly knew, how he could prevent embarrassing himself in front of you.

“Draco?”, Blaise asked, when Draco didn’t answer.

Draco cleared his throat.

“I don’t have a crush on anyone.”, he stated.

Because after all, he said the truth. He knew that this probably wasn’t the right moment to realize, or maybe it was the perfect moment; he wasn’t sure. All he knew was that what Draco felt for you wasn’t a stupid little crush. He was completely and utterly in love with you. And, what he also knew, was that -no matter how hard his friends would try- there was no way he would ever admit it to you.

“Are… are you sure?”, Blaise asked, sounding slightly irritated.

Draco nodded.

“Absolutely sure.”

“I don’t have a crush on anyone.”

The words echoed in your head over and over again. You weren’t quite sure if you felt disappointed or relieved. And you also didn’t know why you even cared at all. For now, all you knew was that you had caught yourself hoping for the split second, that your name would leave the boy´s beautiful lips. But it didn’t. Neither had the name of anyone else though. Either Draco was really good fighting the potion -which would mean he was much more powerful than you had ever expected him to be- or he actually wasn’t interested in anyone.

“Are… are you sure?”, Blaise asked. His tone made you suspect he had expected a different answer to come out of his friend´s mouth.

Draco nodded.

“Absolutely sure.”, he confirmed.

“But…”, Pansy spoke up, but Draco quickly interrupted her.

“You were the one giving us Veritaserum, so how should I be able to lie right now?”

Pansy didn’t seem to know the answer either.

Now that her mission, as well as Blaise´s, had failed, Pansy decided to start all over again.

“(Y/n), truth or dare?”, she asked.

You cursed yourself for choosing truth the last two times because now you had no other choice.

“Dare.”, you sighed.

“I dare you to sit on Draco´s lap for the rest of the game.”, the girl stated as if she hadn’t just asked you to do the impossible.

You let out a small gasp.

“I beg you pardon?”

“Sit on Draco´s lap.”, Pansy repeated.

“But…”, you protested.

“Pansy don’t get carried away, I´m warning you.”, Draco growled, leaving Pansy completely unimpressed.

“Dare is dare.”, she shrugged.

“But it´s my dare. Not his.”, you argued.

“You didn’t mind when you kissed Granger.”

“That´s different, she´s my friend.”

“That was mean (Y/l/n).”, Vaisey chuckled.

“I mean… I´m not… That´s not just about me, Draco wouldn’t be comfortable with it too.”

“As if he would have ever minded a pretty girl on him.”, Blaise grinned.

Draco threw him a deadly glare.

“It´s a game (Y/n). It´s just fun. Or is there any other reason you don’t want to do this?”, Pansy asked innocently.

“What? No, of course not.”

“Well, then there is no problem, is there?”

You glanced at Draco, who shrugged his shoulders, looking defeated. As you looked at your friends, Harry and Ron were shaking from silent laughter and Hermione didn’t look as disgusted as you had thought she would. You cleared your throat and slowly stood up.

“I think so.”, you mumbled.

You made your way to the other side of the sitting area, hoping your shaky legs would keep you up until you reached your destination.

When you stood in front of Draco, you uncomfortably shifted from one leg to the other.

The boy let out a sigh and patted on his lap.

“The faster we do this, the faster we go on and end this stupid game.”, Draco said.

So you took a deep breath, carefully sitting down, having as little contact with Draco´s body as possible. The way you were only sitting on his knees, most of your weight, still resting on your feet, wasn’t the most comfortable way to sit, but for sure the least embarrassing.

“C´mon (Y/n), you can relax. I´m sure Draco won´t mind.”, Blaise mocked.

You hesitated.

“We have all night, you know?”, Pansy added.

Slowly, you shuffled a bit backwards, trying to get a little bit more comfortable without getting too close to Draco. When the boy noticed you moving on top of him, his breath slightly hitched.

“Better?”, you asked, trying to conceal the shakiness in your voice with annoyance.

Pansy grinned.

“Well, Draco, you tell us.”

The boy hummed in response. The noise vibrated through his entire body, making you feel it as well.

“I think we can go on then.”

“You tell me if I get too heavy, won´t you?”, you asked Draco in a low voice.

He only hummed in response again, the feeling going right through you once more.

“(Y/n), I guess it´s your turn now.”

Nearly half an hour later, you were still playing, and you were still sitting on Draco´s lap. You were still nervous, but slowly, you allowed your body to relax. But as you sank slightly backwards, your back suddenly touched Draco´s chest, making you jolt back.

“Damn it (Y/n), don’t make such a fuss.”, Draco said. “Lean back if you have to. This can´t get any worse.”

You hesitated, before you finally obeyed, slowly leaning back again, until your back was pressed against Draco´s chest. It felt strange, his body was hard and tensed, yet soft. His chest was rising and falling regularly. You could smell his scent intensely now, a mix of his cologne, the care products for his broomstick and the alcohol he had drunk tonight. All of this lulled you in, more than you wanted to admit, and you realized you could have easily fallen asleep like this if it wasn’t for your pride that prevented you from making anyone only suspect you actually enjoyed your new place.

You brought your attention back to the game. A genuine laugh escaped you, as you listened to Vaisey singing the Gryffindor version of “Weasley is our King”. While the boy looked like he would rather be anywhere else, you and your housemates were shaking from laughter, whipping away some tears.

Only when you felt a strong arm wrapping around your waist, you realized Draco had tensed behind you.

“Could you stop that?”, he hissed into your ear.

“Stopping what?”, you giggled, eyes still fixed on the performance in front of you.

“Moving.”

“Sorry, I didn’t realize I wasn’t allowed to laugh anymore.”, you said, rolling your eyes.

Another laughter escaped your lips as Vaisey finished the song and tried to bow in front of his audience but nearly fell over, due to the Firewhisky still pulsing through his veins.

Only when you heard Malfoy pressing out a high-pitched whimper, you stopped.

“Shit, did I hurt you?”, you asked, immediately stopping your movements.

“Something like this.”, Draco grumbled. “So if you could please stop this now…”

“Yeah. You could´ve just told me earlier.”

“Well, I tried, didn’t I?”

“You didn’t tell me it hurt.” “You have no idea (Y/l/n). Also, I didn’t know I needed to establish some rules for someone sitting on my lap.”

“Don’t act like I´m the first girl to do so, Malfoy.”

“You´re the first who didn’t beg for it.”, he responded.

“And I highly doubt I ever will.”, you chuckled.

“We´ll see about it.”, Draco winked. “And now finally stop laughing.”

“I might keep on doing so, but not here.”

“What?”, Draco asked in a raspy voice.

“If you don’t mind letting go of me, I will use the bathroom now.”

The grip around your waist loosened, Draco´s finger slightly brushing over your thighs, making goosebumps creep over your skin.

“Don’t wanna hold you back.”

“I guess you also don’t want me to get back ever again.”

“At least not like this.”, Draco responded, feeling relieved he seemed to finally get the hang on how to tell the truth without giving away too much. And in a low voice, he added: “If we´re lucky the others will forget about this stupid dare when you returned.”

“At least once a thing we would both benefit from.”, you said and stood up.

But both of you knew, you wouldn’t be as glad about it as you stated.

As you entered the common room again, the heads of the others turned.

“No need to sit down again (Y/n).”, Ron grinned.

You frowned.

“Why?”

“The next dare.”, Blaise said.

“No, this can´t be right. I wasn’t even in here. You can´t choose dare for me.”, you said in an irritated voice.

“Not your dare (Y/n). Draco´s.”

“What? Again?”, you asked.

You saw the others grinning and nodding.

“What is it this time?”

“Seven minutes in heaven.”

“Are you kidding me? That´s the most stupid game.”, you stated.

“So said Malfoy.”, Hermione said.

As you saw your best friend was grinning and didn’t seem to be bothered by the situation, you narrowed your eyes. You knew Hermione didn’t like Draco. Actually quite the opposite. There was no way she would be okay with you being locked up with him for several minutes.

“What do you know that I don’t?”, you asked your friend.

“It´s just a game, (Y/n).”

“Oh yeah, Harry? I wanna see how you would react if you would get locked up with Malfoy.” As you looked at said boy, he looked slightly offended by your words. “This wasn’t even against you.”, you added. “Well, not primarily.”

“You think I want this?", the blond boy hissed.

“That´s not about what you want but about what we want, so let´s go.”, Pansy interrupted him. “Let´s get you in there. I´ll take the time.”

Hidden behind a banner, there was a door, leading to a small closet. You eyed it distrustfully, highly doubting that there was even enough space for both of you.

“After you.”, Draco sighed.

You glanced at your friends one last time before you stepped into the closet. Draco followed you. As soon as both of you had entered the room, the door slammed behind you.

“Time is running.”, you heard Pansy´s muffled voice from the other side of the door.

You squinted. Except for the bit of light that was shining through the gap under the door, the room was completely dark. And quiet. The only thing you could hear was Draco´s breathing. And you couldn’t only hear it. While your back was pressed against the wall, your chest was nearly touching Draco´s. Whenever you inhaled and your chests rose, they slightly touched. Also, you felt Draco´s hot breath hitting your face.

“So what are we going to do now?”, Draco finally broke the silence.

You shrugged your shoulders.

“Waiting I guess.”

“Probably.”

“Or do you have any other things on your mind?”, you teased.

You blamed the fact that you had dared to say this on the alcohol.

“Several.”, Draco answered. “But I highly doubt we want to do any of these.”

Silence.

“Or are there any things you want to do right now (Y/n)?”

Luckily, the effect of the Veritaserum had by now decreased, yet you doubted, you would be able to actually lie to him.

"Don´t ask questions when you don´t wanna know the answer, Malfoy."

Silence.

“How much time do you think has passed?”, you asked.

“Probably about the half. If they actually leave us out after seven minutes.”

“Won´t stay any second longer in here than necessary.”

“Neither will I, but how will we know?”

Draco had a point with that.

“Why do you think they are doing this?”, you changed the topic.

“What?”

“Trying to… Well, pairing us up all the time. It feels like they arranged it.”

“Don’t ask questions when you don’t want to know the answer (Y/l/n).”

“So you know something?”

“I suspect.”

“And what?”

“Don’t make me answer this (Y/n). Please.”

Draco´s voice sounded different this time. You knew due to the truth potion still running in his veins you could get your answer, but as he said this, it seemed to be unfair to you to sound him out. You may not liked the boy -at least you still tried hard to believe so- but that didn’t mean you wanted to harm him. Also, you weren’t quite sure if you wanted to know the answer yourself. There were many different reasons why you were in this situation right now, but one was even less likely than the other.

“Never mind then.”, you mumbled.

Draco let out a sigh of relief.

“Thanks.”, he muttered.

“Don’t tell me you actually just thanked me.”, you teased.

“Don’t pride yourself on that (Y/l/n).”

“This wouldn’t have come to my mind at all.”

Draco chuckled.

“You can be really annoying you know that? Sometimes I wonder how I manage to not do something to you we would both regret afterwards.”

You could feel a stinging in your heart. You knew Draco thought like this about you, You thought the same about him. But by now you felt as if your annoyance with him had different reasons than his.

“At least I know you´re honest with me this time.”, you tried to make your voice sound jokingly, but you highly doubted you had managed to do so.

“What? No that´s not… I didn’t mean it in a bad way… I mean…”

“Just save it Draco. It´s fine, I get it. I mean this wasn’t a secret after all, was it?”

“You can be really annoying you know that? Sometimes I wonder how I manage to not do something to you we would both regret afterwards.”

Silence.

Draco bit his lip. He had said the truth, but he highly doubted you understood what he meant by that. Of course, he was annoyed by you. He was annoyed by how beautiful you were. By how good you smelled and how soft your body felt pressed against his. By how much he had enjoyed your company this evening. But mostly he was annoyed by how weak you made him feel. And how he didn’t know how he was ever supposed to continue after tonight, when you wouldn’t be drinking from the same bottle as him ever again, laughing at the same jokes he laughed about, dancing with him, sitting on his lap, and being as close to him as you were now. And he didn’t even want to get started to think about the things that came to his mind whenever he saw you. All the ideas of what could happen between you if things were different. The things he wanted to do to you…

“At least I know you´re honest with me this time.” Your voice sounded hollow.

Draco had never expected to be capable of doing so, but the sound of your voice made him suspect he had hurt you. While he had thought he would be happy about the fact that he was able to hurt you, since that would mean, he meant something to you, now that he had done so, he realized, that he had you rather feeling nothing for him at all and being happy, than having whatever feelings for him and being sad, even though you tried to hide it.

“What? No that´s not… I didn’t mean it in a bad way… I mean…”, Draco stuttered.

How was he supposed to tell you? He for sure couldn’t tell you why you annoyed him that much, but he also didn’t want you to think that this was all that he felt for you. How was he supposed to tell you how he felt, without telling you?

“Just save it Draco. It´s fine, I get it. I mean this wasn’t a secret after all, was it?”

While Draco was desperately trying to find the right words, the door was torn open.

And as you stepped out of the closet Draco knew, he had screwed up.

You squinted, as you stepped out of the small room. As your eyes had gotten used to the light, you saw the others had gathered around the closet, staring at you curiously.

“And?”, Pansy asked.

“And what?”, you responded.

“You had… fun?”

“Who wouldn’t have fun there, Pansy? Stuck in a damn closet.”

You weren’t quite sure why Draco´s words had upset you that much. But by now, you weren’t only annoying, as the boy had stated, but also annoyed.

“You care to give us any more details?”, the girl grinned, ignoring your sarcastic undercurrent.

“Save it Pansy.”, Draco snapped, looking as harried as you.

“Why don´t we just get back and continue playing?”, Katie suggested.

“Honestly, I´m really tired. I´ll get back to our dorm.”, you stated, earning a surprised look from your friends.

“Already?”

“It´s far after midnight.”, you responded.

“So?”, Pansy asked.

“No, really, I´m just tired. But thanks for the invitation. It was a great evening.”

Except for the last seven minutes.

“Well, okay, maybe we can do it sometime again.”, the girl said, sounding slightly disappointed.

You threw her a weak smile.

“Of course.” You needed to gather all your strength to get this lie over your lips, but after all, you did.

“I´ll join you.”, Hermione offered, after you had wished everyone goodnight.

But you shook your head.

“You don’t have to.”

“I want to. I´m tired too.”, you could see she was lying once more since she avoided your gaze again.

“You are not.”, you clarified. And in a lower voice, you added: “I feel like Ron would be very disappointed if you would already leave.”

You could see Hermione flush.

“Are you sure?”, she asked.

“I´m fine. I promise.”, you assured her.

And it was true. You were fine. Or at least you would be. But now, you just needed some time to unravel your thoughts. And you would be able to do this better on your own.

You gave your friend a last calming smile before you made your way back to your own dorm.

As soon as the door shut, Pansy spun around to Draco.

“What happened?"

Draco shrugged his shoulders, letting himself fall onto one of the couches defeated.

“I ruined it.”

And after Draco was done with his report -interrupted by some explanations for the people who weren’t aware of what exactly was going on right now- everyone was silent for a moment.

“I should just forget all of this. Forget her.”, Draco sighed.

He had sunken so deeply into his self-pity, and in that state, mixed with some alcohol still affecting him, he didn’t even care about the Gryffindors - who he had always refused to be that vulnerable in front of- sitting right in front of him.

“Don’t you dare.”, Pansy growled. “You better get out there and get after her.”

“It doesn’t make any sense Pansy. And it´s better that way. She deserves more.”

Pansy reared in front of the guy, her hands on her hips.

“Don’t you dare to think so Draco Malfoy. You´re whining about this girl for months. One time you say you don’t care and the next moment you look at her as if you want to propose right away. I´m done with this. I set up all of this just so you could shoot your shot. Hell, do you know how much it took me to get Urquhart into agreeing to this? And all evening you did nothing else than awkwardly stare at her and then, as a culmination, you insult her. You know, I don’t care, what you do next, but if you rather pity yourself than get after her, I´m done with you. Then I never want to hear you complaining ever again, you hear me?”

When Pansy had finished her speech, she glared down at Draco, panting.

Everyone else stared up at her in awe. No one, neither her friends nor the Gryffindors had ever thought Pansy would ever stand up to anyone like this. She always reached her goals. But she did it quietly, without drawing too much attention to it. The only time she got more visible was when she was bullying other students. And not in their wildest dreams anyone had ever thought, Pansy Parkinson would stand up like this. Especially not to Draco Malfoy.

“She´s right, you know that? I can´t promise you this will have a happy ending, I don’t even know if I want it to, but (Y/n) is my friend. And I want her to be happy. And if that´s with you, then I´m alright with that too, I guess.”

“See, even the mudblood agrees with me.”, Pansy said, puffing her chest.

“Don’t call her…”, Ron spoke up, but Hermione interrupted him.

“Let her. Just this one time.”

Draco´s gaze drifted from one to the other. Then Harry cleared his throat.

“Now go and get the girl, Malfoy.”

And Draco did. He sprinted out of the common room and down the corridors, running faster than he had ever done.

Your steps were echoing through the empty corridors. You just prayed none of the teachers would notice you, since it was far after bedtime. Especially now you needed to be careful since you were still in the dungeons, the territory of Professor Snape.

Draco´s words were still echoing in your head. You weren’t quite sure why you were so affected by them. People had said far worse things to you, many of them Draco had said. But the mix of alcohol, fatigue, the closeness to Draco at this moment and the entire evening, as well as the knowledge that this time he had for sure meant what he had said, made it much more hurtful than any other thing.

Tomorrow you would probably feel differently about it. And hopefully also different about Draco. You had always been aware of the fact that you were much more attracted to him than you should be, but tonight you had realized, that it might be even more. The way his hands had felt on your hips, while you were dancing, the way you felt safe in his arms while you were sitting on his lap, the way you had been locked in this room, where anything had been possible, all these things had made you craving for more. Made you crave for more with him. But as you now realized -even if you had always known- these feelings were biased. You would have to live with what you had gotten until now, accepting that there would never be more.

Suddenly, you heard a second pair of footsteps. The sound was getting louder quickly. You cursed under your breath. If Professor Snape would catch you here at this time, you wouldn’t see the sun for the rest of the school year.

“(Y/n)!”

You froze. This wasn’t Professor Snape´s voice. Neither the voice of any other teacher.

“(Y/n)!”

You knew that voice.

The footsteps were now really close.

Slowly, you turned around.

When Malfoy had reached you, he was panting heavily. You felt your heartbeat quicken at this view. At the same moment, you cursed your heart for betraying you.

“I´m a douchebag.”, Draco pressed out.

You raised an eyebrow.

“Don’t you say.”

“No for real. I´m a complete idiot.”

“How did you come to this realisation?”, your voice sounded cold. You were proud of how much control lay within it.

“I told you, you annoy me.”

“You did.”

“And that´s true.”

“Thanks for reminding me.”

“Could you stop being so snappish for a second?”

“For what reason.”

“Because I´m trying to tell you that I´m absolutely crazy about you.”

You blinked in confusion.

“What?”

“That´s why you´re annoying me so much (Y/n). Because I just can´t think straight when you´re around. I mean do you have any idea how it feels when I´m trying so hard to hate you and I just can´t? I mean, you´re a stupid Gryffindor, and I swear to Salazar, everything I ever wanted to do with any of you was hexing you so badly you would never come back to this school again, and then you walk by with this stupid perfect smile and all I want to do is… I mean when I said that I want to do things to you we might regret… things with you… I mean, whenever I see you all I want to do is…. not hexing you.”

You stared at the boy in front of you in disbelief.

“I know, you don’t feel the same (Y/n). I´m not stupid. You live in your perfectly normal world, with all your amazing friends and good grades and whatever.”, Draco spitted out, making it sound like the life he had just described was the worst thing that could ever happen to anyone. “But I know you were hurt but what I told you back in this closet when you… when we… There were so many better ways that I could have ruined it and I chose one that hurt you. And I… I want to apologise for it.”

“You´re kidding me, right?”, you asked, completely dumbfounded. Your brain just couldn’t grasp what was happening right now.

Draco shook his head. He reached into the pocket of his trousers and pulled out a small vial.

“I´ll prove it.”, he said, opening the phial. You recognized it from your potions class. And slowly, you started to put two and two together.

As Draco raised his hand, you quickly took a step forward, grabbing it.

“Don’t.”

Draco looked at you with widened eyes.

“I want to do it. If that´s what it takes for you to believe me.”

You couldn’t help the grin that spread across your face.

“I already do.”

Now it was on Draco to be confused.

“Why?”

“Because no one could be so stupid to think that up.”, you chuckled. “Besides, I knew something was off tonight. I just didn’t know what it was. Until now.”

Draco mirrored your smile shyly.

“So what do you think?”, he asked. “I mean you don’t owe me an answer and I know that we will never…”

He was interrupted as you pressed your lips on his. You could have stayed like this forever, but you gathered all your willpower and after a second, you pulled back again. Draco stared at you, completely mesmerized.

“You really don’t know when to shut up, do you?”, you smiled.

“If that´s what it takes.”, he grinned.

You rolled your eyes.

“And you´re telling me that I´m annoying.”, you sighed.

Draco laughed.

“Well. You have no idea how long I waited for this, you can´t expect me to keep my cool.”

You raised an eyebrow.

“Since when does Draco Malfoy lose his cool?”, you mocked.

“Ever since he loves you.”, the boy responded promptly.

You looked at him with widened eyes.

“Sorry, that was…”

“No need to be.”, you whispered against his lips. You could feel your heart beating even faster at his confession. “You don´t have to apologise. Not for this.”

“If you insist love.”, Draco responded.

His lips were brushing over yours tenderly, making shivers run down your spine. You slowly brought your hands up to his neck, slightly caressing his cheeks before you tangled them in his hair.

“I insist.”

Draco brushed a strand of your hair out of your field of vision, before he cupped your cheeks, his thumps brushing over your soft skin.

“So, do you only kiss me to make me shut up or are there also other things I can do?”, Draco mocked you, his lips leaving yours, hovering over your skin, making their way to your neck. He spread some featherweight kisses on your delicate skin, making you tilt your head slightly and bite your lip to suppress a whimper.

“If you keep on teasing me, I won´t kiss you again, no matter what you do Malfoy.”, you mumbled.

“Says the girl who was grinding on my lap for more than an hour. If you consider this as teasing, this has been torture.”

You could feel your cheeks heating.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.”, Draco grinned.

“Well, I can make it up to you now. But you have to let me.”, you responded.

That was all Draco needed. He let his lips crash on yours. You immediately returned his kiss, pulling him only closer.

When you finally pulled back, your hair was a mess and your lips were swollen, but your smile could have brightened up an entire room.

“You´re gonna be the death of me, you know that?”, Draco mumbled, as his thumb brushed over your lips.

“That´s a good way to die after all, don’t you think?”, you smiled.

Draco pecked your lips.

“The best.”

But just as he pulled you in once more, you heard a door banging somewhere in the distance. You froze,

“Did that come from the common room or was it Snape?”, you whispered.

“I don’t know. And I don’t want to find out.”, Draco grabbed your hand. “Let´s get out of here.”

“Where?”

“I´ll bring you to your dorm.”, Draco responded. “Or do you have different plans?”

“Don’t ask questions when you don’t wanna know the answer Malfoy.”, you laughed, as you were hurrying down the corridor.

“But I feel like I really want to know the answer this time.”

“And I feel like we got plenty of time to figure it out.”

Draco looked at you and smiled.

“I´ll exploit every second you´re willing to spend on me, love.”

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