Untitled

[justk99]

hey guys so remember when buck said he doesn't have ED meaning erectile disfunction but harry oh sweet 18 year old Harry took it at eating disorder

so Eddie Diaz is also ED

this is just weewoo brainrot but ya know putting it out there

[justk99]

PARK THE SHARK IS TOMMY KINARD??????

WHAAAATTTT STAWPPPPP

ohmygod

[justk99]

so guys would eddie diaz and dr jack abbot sit in the same table of army medic ptsd trauma ride share

[justk99]

guys are we really gonna ignore the russian bodyguard in the character pannel from the call sheet

what do u mean russian bodyguard

[bluehourdj]

August 10th

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

WC: 8.8k

Setting: 1940s, Brooklyn, (Captain America The First Avenger basically)

Summary: When you were 16 years old, you fatefully moved next door to Steve Rogers, who you quickly claimed as your new best friend. Only, Steve spent the summer talking about Bucky, a boy you only pictured as a mysterious figure of anecdotes and stories. That is, until you met Bucky Barnes, became best friends, then moved away only to return to face yourself, your feelings, and the threat of war. 

Warnings/tags: War, Jealousy, lots of angst, yearning, mutual pining, pre serum Steve, two idiots in love, some miscommunication. (Please feel free to let me know if I missed anything!!!) 

Author’s Note: (Posting this for a second time after lots of technical issues lol) -> this is my first super long locked in Bucky fic, eek! Also, I apologize in advance for any grammar mistakes, I lowkey did not proofread this.

The story was super duper loosely based off of the vibes of the song August 10 by Julie Doiron.

August 10, 1933

Everyone loved Bucky Barnes. Foolishly, so would you. Yet, you still selfishly refused to group yourself with the crowd of his admirers. They knew the Bucky who frequently saved Steve from the endless rebellions he insisted upon, who charmed every girl from age 20 to 75 with his chivalry and sly tongue, and who showed respect for those working hard during such a tumultuous time of war and misery. 

That was Bucky now, 25, sturdy, and tall. A man. You loved Bucky then, scrawny, 16, and too clumsy for his own good. 

After a fateful day one sticky Brooklyn summer full of cardboard boxes and a boiling sun, your family had successfully moved next door to Steve Rogers. Steve was scrawny and came with a blanket wide list of allergies and impairments, he also became your best friend. Not by choice, really, as you practically forced yourself into his life with a cherry pie, childlike excitement, and desperate need for new friends, but as July turned into August, Steve found that the loud annoying girl next door had grown on him.

 You and Steve had spent that month of Summer hopping through diners and city parks, talking about everything from politics to jazz, but mostly Bucky. James Buchanan Barnes had been a mysterious figure in your mind, you pictured him as a faceless, elusive figure as Steve would excitedly introduce him into every conversation. Bucky, or, James, you had not been quite sure which name to use at the time, had been on vacation with his family all July, and Steve was itching to reunite with his long time best friend for the new school year. In an odd way, you were secretly glad for Bucky’s absence, as you quickly realized that if he had been home Steve likely would not have paid you any mind. 

But, when you waited awkwardly beside Steve at Grand Central across the bridge for this mysterious friend of his to arrive, you quickly retracted your gratitude. 

Bucky had jogged up to Steve with a worn bag in hand and a toothy grin on his face, scooping up the young protesting blonde like he weighed nothing. Amid the laughter and excitement, the two boys had almost forgotten about your prescience altogether. A slow blush had crept up your neck, as you both felt like an intruder and a creep with the way your eyes couldn’t break away from the new face before you. 

Then, Bucky had broken contact with Steve, turning to you. You were a bit awkward, your dress ill fitting and hair windswept, as though young adulthood had just approached you with a game of tug of war. Bucky had stilled. 

“Steve, you didn’t introduce me” he joked, shoving Steve’s shoulder.

“Oh, this is my new neighbor, Y/N.” Steve gave sheepishly, finally acknowledging you. Bucky’s grin grew.

“Well would you look at that,” he shook your hand, “a pretty girl-next-door.” 

From that day onward, you, Bucky, and Steve had been an odd trio, attached at the hip. High school was a mess, but a fun one at that. From innocent hallway crushes to anxious whispers of war, the late 1930s were nothing but chaos painted in saccharine revelry. Your crush on Bucky had waned slightly as you watched him bounce from girl to girl, with you and Steve loudly observing from the sidelines, but sure enough those fuzzy feelings still quietly persisted. Semesters blurred into years, and finally graduation came. 

Life was like soft glitter on your fingertips, slipping away from you quickly as time raced on. It wasn’t until a strangely fateful summer, much like the one in which you moved next door to Steve, that things began to change. 

May 31st, 1941

Checking the dainty watch on your wrist, your heartbeat picked up, realizing you were running tremendously late.

“Shit!” You yelped, picking up your heeled feet, tightening your grip on your small suitcase. 

“Hey, language!” Steve quipped beside you, scurrying to catch up. You muttered under your breath before slipping through the crowded sidewalk as Steve rushed behind you. In the nick of time, the two of you were able to slip through the large doors of Grand Central, four minutes before your departing train. You stilled despite the time crunch, an unsettling wave of Deja vu crashing over you. Steve broke you out of your brief thoughts. “I’m gonna miss you, you know.” He smiled kindly, nudging your shoulder.

“It’s only one year Stevie, I’ll be back before you know it.” You laughed before softening at the smile that didn’t quite reach Steve’s eyes. 

Things were changing. With the war, draft, and mobilization, everyone was putting their all into the terror that was to come. Things felt different. There was far less innocence and laughter in the air, it had been replaced by this strange looming shadow, as though New York had been trying to grasp onto its last crumbs of Bread and Circus before reality struck. 

Bucky had not been able to make it for your departure, he was preparing to ship out soon, and although you felt bad for Steve who wished so dearly to be dressed in uniform by Bucky’s side, you were incredibly grateful he was safe beside you instead. 

“One year sounds like a long time to me.” Steve’s shoulders sank. Your heart clenched at the thought of leaving, but you knew you had to go. With the fast pace of mobilization, the whole country cried for help, and so, you decided you would take your sharpened skills in writing to D.C. With all the men enlistening, the capitol was short staffed and had sent out multiple advertisements seeking aid from New England states. Yet, you planned to return, to come back soon to Brooklyn, to your family, to your boys. 

It still hurt nonetheless. 

You wished Bucky could have come to say goodbye. 

You told yourself it didn’t matter. He was busy doing things larger than the three of you. Preparing to leave, preparing to become something bigger than Brooklyn, bigger than late nights and cheap diner coffee and Steve’s crooked smile when he made a cheesy joke. 

Still, your eyes drifted toward the entrance every few seconds, heart lurching stupidly each time a tall dark-haired man pushed through the revolving doors.

Not Bucky. 

Not Bucky.

Not Bucky.

You sucked in a sharp breath, turning your attention back towards Steve.

“Promise me you’ll write?” Your voice was quiet for the first time all day.

“You don’t even have to ask.” Suddenly, you felt an enormous rush of dread as the Steve before you, still scrawny but older and wiser in the eyes, transformed into the Steve you met all those years ago. Childhood was officially over. 

You bumped his shoulder. “Don’t look at me like that. I’m going to D.C., not the moon.”

“Yeah,” he said, but it came out hollow. “Yeah, I know.”

The final boarding call echoed overhead, sharp and metallic, slicing through the station like a warning bell.

This was it.

You reached forward first, pulling Steve into a hug that was tighter than you meant it to be, tighter than either of you had hugged in years.

He froze for half a second before crushing you back. Finally, you broke apart. 

“Tell,” you started, beginning to stutter slightly, “Tell Bucky to write too.” Steve gave you a nod, his expression unintelligible in your eyes, but you didn’t have time to dwell on it. 

“Go,” Steve said gently. “Before you miss it.”

You nodded once, sharp and decisive, the way you’d practiced being since deciding to leave.

Then you turned and walked.

You didn’t look back until you reached the train doors.

Steve was still there, hands shoved into his pockets, shoulders hunched like he was trying to make himself smaller against the crowd.

And for one horrible, selfish second, you wished it was Bucky standing there instead.

The whistle blew.

The doors shut.

And everything you ever knew slipped from your grasp, inch by inch. 

The days blurred into weeks, and suddenly D.C. already felt like your second home. You had memorized your route to work and made a couple of new girlfriends, but amidst the cloudy train soot and unfamiliar streets, you still harbored a constant awareness that you were no longer someone’s daughter first, or someone’s friend, or someone’s “girl-next-door.” 

Yet, despite yourself, it was thrilling to be nobody again. Moving to D.C. was much like your move to Brooklyn, you had the chance to reinvent yourself, a do-over of sorts. Back home, you had been passionate, enthusiastic, and talkative, but you were also constantly plagued with awkwardness, insecurity, and a constant feeling of unbelonging that often came with puberty and early womanhood. Here, you could change that. You were still Y/N, but now you had the chance to become a stronger version of yourself you had yet to meet. 

By September, you knew which street vendors sold coffee strong enough to stir the dead. You knew which government buildings ran warm and which out of order bathrooms to avoid. You knew how to walk with purpose, shoulders squared, chin lifted, even when you had no idea where you were going. You learned how to command a room that believed you had no right to stand in. You were changing, and you liked it. 

One thing that did not change, however, was your weekly routine of writing letters. Your apartment, which you shared with two other working girls, was cramped, dusty, and held a certain air only gothic English winters could replicate. When available, you would rush to the single scratched up desk by the windowsill, and pull out your scattered stationary. 

 Steve predictably wrote the most often.

His handwriting was still too careful, still like he was trying to prove something to the world with every perfect curve of his pen. He told you about Brooklyn, the bakery down the street raising prices, the neighbor’s dog having puppies, the way the air felt heavier, like everyone was anticipating for a pin to drop.

He never complained, but he would end sentences early, holding back things you assumed were too daunting to admit. 

In return, you would send him rambling letters about your job, your fascination with the intellectuals now surrounding you, new things you learned and old things missed. You would write to Steve that you missed him. That you missed Bucky. You didn’t write about how lonely you felt.

Bucky wrote less, but he still wrote. 

His letters, when they came, were messy and long, with scratches hiding certain words and sentences he decided he no longer wanted to keep.  

He never said he missed you, at least not directly.

Instead, he wrote things like:

Saw a girl today with your laugh. Made me turn around like an idiot.

Which foolishly made you feel jealous, your small crush blinding your basic reading comprehension skills.

Or

Steve’s been talking about you like you’re already some big shot. Don’t let it go to your head.

Which made you laugh then tear up slightly at the sound of your own voice. 

But once, in a letter that arrived three days late and smelled faintly like cigarette smoke, he wrote something that truly stuck with you:

I always knew you belonged somewhere bigger than this place.

You read that line so many times the paper went soft at the fold.

When you wrote back, your letters became long, much like Bucky’s as well. Yet, for some strange reason, despite how you felt, everything you wrote seemed impersonal. You provided him with short anecdotes, hints at your changing persona, and questions about Brooklyn. You never told him you missed him either. You weren’t quite sure why you were holding back. 

Time began to escape you. By winter, you had not only become a familiar face at work, but a person people relied on and confided in. By spring, managers who had once mocked your integrity and belittled you on the basis of sex had been asking for your opinion. You were evolving. As Summer crept closer and closer to your grasp, you were too caught up in the hustle and bustle of the life you created yourself to notice the lingering eyes and flirty remarks of those you passed on the street. It was as though no amount of attention could release you from the two constant thoughts that permeated your mind: work, of course, and Bucky. 

You weren’t, however, naive. Not anymore. You knew you had grown into yourself, not just mentally, but physically. For the first time, you felt beautiful in every facet of the word. The last letter you got from Bucky before summer read:

Don’t stay gone too long. Brooklyn’s getting boring without our girl.

You laughed when you read it, but then your chest hurt a little, too. Our girl. 

For the first time since leaving, you let yourself imagine going back. 

Not as the girl who left, but as someone new. Maybe someone unrecognizable to your best friends, the boys you consider family. The boys you consider home.

Maybe someone Bucky might not know what to do with.

August 10, 1942

You were coming home. You almost couldn’t believe it, sinking into the train’s leather seat as you stared longingly toward the window. The ride felt short, or really, the ceaseless thoughts that fired rapidly in your head made it seem that way. But, as Brooklyn slowly came into view through the fogged glass and romantic summer haze, a sense of familiarity struck you where your heart felt most sensitive. You leaned into the window, forehead pressing against the glass. Same city. Same family. Same friends. But, you knew deep down, you were not the same you. 

When the train stopped, you felt your heart’s burning desire to leap out of your chest. Smoothing your skirt twice, you climbed out of your seat with shallow breaths.

Get it together.

In D.C., you had walked into rooms full of men twice your age and argued politics. You had proved yourself to men who believed you were capable of nothing but retrieving coffees and answering phones. You had learned how to exist without orbiting anyone.

This was just Brooklyn.

Just Steve.

Just Bucky.

And you were terrified.

As you stepped off the platform, your breath hitched. You had dreamt of this moment so many times, but seeing Bucky and Steve, both firmer, stronger, and one year older, in front of you was more surreal than any dream. 

“Y/N?” Steve’s voice broke through the crowd as he shifted his feet, stilling at your arrival. Beside him, Bucky tensed, eyes widening in a way you chose to ignore. You straightened your shoulders, adjusted the strap of your bag, and stepped toward them.

“Hi, Stevie.”

Your voice came out steadier than you felt as a soft smile grew on your face. Steve blinked like he was trying to match the girl who left one summer ago with the woman standing in front of him. Then suddenly he was moving, pushing through the crowd and wrapping you in a hug that lifted you halfway off your feet.

“You’re back,” he said into your hair, voice tight. “You’re actually back.”

You laughed, breathless. “I told you I would be.”

But when you pulled away, your eyes found Bucky.

And God, your heart clenched.

The last year had sculpted him in the way wartime America changed men: broader shoulders, sharper jaw, posture of a steel pole.

But his eyes were the same. Blue. Soft. Bucky. Watching you sadly, like you were something fragile and unfamiliar all at once.

“Hey, Buck.”

You tried for the casual, friendly tone you had used in your letters, but your voice softened. 

Bucky swallowed.

“Hey, doll.”

The nickname sent chills down your spine; you were losing yourself in the nostalgia of  you two first met.

Bucky stepped forward slowly, shoving his hands into his pockets like he didn’t know what to do with them.

“You look…” He ran a hand over the back of his neck, searching for words he could not say. “D.C. suits you.” He decided. You let out a warm laugh, and that seemed to ease his raised shoulders. 

“Thanks. You look like you’re ready to drop and give me twenty.” You nudged his shoulder playfully, a small smile playing on your faces. Things had changed, but you slowly realized the three of you had stayed the same. You were still family. 

“I would if you asked.” He said, softer than before. “Sir, yes, sir.” Bucky then joked, recovering from the brief slip of the mask he had put up, raising a mocking salute. You rolled your eyes lightheartedly, and the three of you laughed, falling into step with one another as you made your way toward the station exit. 

“Come on, let’s get something to eat.” Steve smiled widely, and suddenly, you didn’t feel the weight of war on your shoulders, you felt safe and at home. 

—

The walk to the diner felt like reliving an old memory. Brooklyn smelled the same, hot sun, candy shop sugar, river air. Kids still ran through fire hydrant spray. Neighbors still yelled out their windows at anyone within a five-block radius.

But people stared at you now.

You tried not to notice, but as each passerby turned an intrigued head, you felt a faint blush crawl up your skin.

Bucky noticed. His jaw ticked when a group of guys went quiet as you passed. He subtly moved you to the inside of the sidewalk.

You didn’t comment on it. Steve did.

“Well,” he said finally, nudging you. “Looks like Brooklyn noticed you grew up.” 

“I haven’t changed that much.” You groaned, suddenly feeling a bit self-conscious. 

“Oh sure.” Steve hummed, amused as his eyes flicked between Bucky’s tense expression and your blushing face, as though he knew something the two of you didn’t. 

The three of you finally made it to the small diner by your old high school. It was decorated with peeling paint and outdated flyers in the window, like a cherished time capsule you forgot to bury. Bucky, ever the gentleman, held the door open for you and Steve to filter in.

You wondered to yourself if Bucky had a girl by now. If his sweet charms were still rampant among the city. If it was time to finally let go of your crush. But, as a familiar face greeted you three, you let your thoughts die down.

“Oh my gosh, is that you Y/N?” The sweet old voice of none other than Patty, the cane-wielding restaurant manager, greeted you like a familiar hug. 

“Yes, ma’am.” You chuckled, craning your neck to bend down and meet her in an embrace. You missed how Bucky’s eyes trailed your frame fondly, as though he himself were an old man and you a sweet memory. 

“My, you’ve grown up gorgeous.” Patty pinched your cheek, Steve and Bucky beaming behind you with a subtle sense of what you could have sworn was pride. “Sit, sit, I’ll get your orders ready. The usual?” 

“Yes, ma’am.” Bucky and Steve said in chorus, mocking your previous reply. You gave them a curt glare as they snickered boyishly before sauntering over to your usual booth. You slid in gracefully, which caught the boys somewhat off guard, as they were more adapted to your jerky movements and awkward limbs. But when you roughly tore the paper off your straw with your teeth, sinking into the leather seat, they knew parts of you were still the same. Steve slid in next to you, and Bucky sat across, his knee bumping yours delicately. 

He didn’t move it, so neither did you. 

One of Patty’s waitresses wordlessly slipped your three chipped mugs onto the table as you all took in the bittersweet atmosphere around you. 

“So, tell us everything.” Steve started, taking a long sip of the bitter drink in his mug. 

“That’s a lot of things.” But Steve simply shrugged. 

“We have all the time in the world.” He replied with a hint of sarcasm that you wished wasn’t present, because you wished his words were true. You knew they were not. 

“Well, I spent most of my time correcting politicians who would’ve rather seen me open my legs than my mouth.” Steve choked on his coffee, turning red. 

Bucky just grinned, studying you over the rim of his mug.

 “Yeah. You always were bossy.”

You raised a brow. “Confident.”

“Bossy,” he repeated, a little smile tugging at his mouth.

You leaned forward slightly. “Hmm,” you hummed, “Well I guess you always were insufferable.” Steve laughed, recovering from his previous embarassment. 

“Charming,” Bucky corrected. Steve let out a long sigh as his eyes grazed over your face, taking in the fact that you were actually there in front of them. 

“I just can’t get over how much you have changed. You seem different.” His words weren’t critical, in fact, they were almost admiring. 

“I am different.” You shrugged, but your words carried a certain gravity you had not intended.

“I mean, just a year ago you couldn’t even order without apologizing to the waiter.”

“I was being polite,” you shot back, groaning at his jab.

“You apologized when he brought the wrong food, Y/N.” Steve deadpanned.

Bucky’s lips twitched. “That sounds about right.”

You kicked his shin lightly under the table, knees brushing once more. “I have evolved, thank you.”

“Oh, I can tell,” Bucky said. You felt your face heat up briefly. Why had your crush not died with your naivety over the last year? You wished the answer could be easily discerned, but you knew deep down that Bucky was not just someone you liked. He was a person worth admiring. Because, beneath his subtle flirtations and annoyingly incredible people skills, Bucky was simply a great person. 

“You left,” Steve continued, “And suddenly it was just me and him again. Like before you showed up with that damn cherry pie.” The three of you laughed at the memory of the now faint, distant summer. How time had flown. 

“Enough about me. I want to know about my two favorite boys.” You added, with a hint of sweet sarcasm in your voice, as though you were talking about two small puppies rather than the now grown-up men before you. 

“I’m still trying to enlist.” Steve shared, his tone more serious and slightly melancholic than before. You nodded, heart clenching for your friend. “Can’t let Buck ship out alone now, can I? Who’s gonna be there to protect him?” He added after a pause, allowing some comedic relief to which you and Bucky let out short, clipped laughs. 

“Do you know when you’re leaving, Buck?” You asked quietly, busying yourself with stirring what was left of your coffee, trying not to give away your fear. 

“No, not exactly. I assume soon.” You nodded, trying to conceal the way your fingers clenched at his words.You let out a soft hum, trying to break the ice. 

“Do you think I’d make a good soldier?” You teased, earning a small smile from Steve. 

Bucky just stared.

“Sure, doll. You’d make a good anything.” 

After Steve and Bucky walked you home, the sun had set and nighttime danced around the city in a quiet fashion. Bucky lingered by Steve’s door, which was right next to yours, not quite ready to go to his own home. 

“You could just tell her you know.” Steve sighed, as though they had beaten this dead horse a hundred times. Which they had.

“Easier said than done.” Bucky looked down at his shoes. Quiet settled between them momentarily before he decided to speak again. “Besides, Stevie, I’ve seen how she looks at you.” 

Steve laughed out loud, startling Bucky.

“Do they give you lobotomies as part of your military training?” Bucky just rolled his eyes. Steve calmed down from his laughter, realizing his best friend was getting lost in his head. “Look, Buck. I don’t know what goes on in that girl’s head. Hell, after today, I’m sure half of Brooklyn’s male population is dying to know.” 

Bucky straightened his back, jaw ticking and heart picking up with a sense of unwarranted anxiety, like he was already losing you before he ever had you.

“What I do know is that you have harbored your little schoolboy crush on Y/N for years now. All you gotta do is fess up.” Bucky just shook his head.

“Good night, Stevie.” He clapped him lightly on the back before turning towards home.

“Yeah, yeah, goodnight.” Steve laughed quietly to himself while Bucky began his venture home. He wasn’t sure what to do, all he knew was the easy way out. Running. 

—

You were three hours into your shift at a last minute job you picked up to help your family pay some bills when Susie Jones delivered the most aggravating news of your life. Okay, maybe you were being dramatic, but still, you were pissed. You had no right to be annoyed, but when the peppy ginger announced to the other working girls that James Buchanan Barnes had asked her to the Stark Expo set to happen that night, you nearly snapped the bolt on the machinery you had been relentlessly tightening.

“Please, please, please!” You heard her plead as she shook another girl's arm, one who you recognized as her longtime friend. “It’s just one night, you know I’ve been crushing on Barnes.” 

“Fine!” The girl threw her arms up in exasperation. “I’ll go with the little blonde.” Then everyone got back to work. 

You wanted to grind your teeth. You didn’t. You were composed, mature, a lady, and also seething. You couldn’t complain too loudly, you were the one who told Steve and Bucky that you were busy Friday night. You had met a man at the local newsroom who promised to tell you about a new policy being made back in D.C. It wasn't until Steve mentioned privately to you that William, the man you blocked off your Friday evening for, was someone Bucky did not take kindly to, that you regretted telling the two. But it wasn’t a date, you told yourself, it was work. 

You wondered as your hands worked tirelessly, if Bucky had asked Susie, your halfhearted nemesis since the 10th grade, out of spite. But you shook the thought away, because if it were true, that would have to mean Bucky cared, and that just wasn’t a fact you were betting on. You just hadn’t expected to feel so irritated. 

You managed to convince yourself that this feeling wasn’t jealousy. You told yourself that it was about principle.

He had (technically) asked you first, and you had said you were busy.

Now Susie was going to hang off his arm while Howard Stark unveiled the future of America beneath fireworks, loud music, and patriotic delirium. The factory radio hummed on beat with the drum of your brain, for the first time in ages, you began using your head for scheming rather than intellect. 

—

The very first thing you did when you got off work was stop by the newsroom to talk to William. It was a quaint, small place, filled with bustling reporters and the smell of old paper. You waited by the front door, as instructed by a skittish intern who informed you William would swing by any minute. Sure enough, he arrived with his windswept hair and rolled sleeves, coming up to you with a quick jog. 

“Y/N!” He exhaled, looking you up and down without subtlety, but you were too focused on your plan at hand to pay him any mind. “What brings you by?” 

“I was wondering if we could adjust our plans for Friday?” His expression faltered. 

“Oh, did something happen?” 

Your brain worked at rapid speed, trying to come up with viable reasoning for what you were going to say next. “Well, not exactly. You see, I am just really fascinated by this new Stark Expo, and I was wondering if you would take me tonight and we can talk politics another time.” You held your breath, unaware that the man before you was already putty in your hands. 

“Of course! I’ll pick you up at eight.” William smiled larger than a boy in a candy shop, but you didn’t care, all you needed was his confirmation. 

“Great!” You reached out, squeezing his bicep as thanks, and rushed out of the room. 

A part of you felt guilty for roping William into your mess, but the other part still burned with irritation at Susie’s shrill voice announcing Bucky like he was already hers. You slowed your pace as you walked home. You didn’t have time to dwell upon why you were reacting so severely. You needed to get ready. 

You stood before the large mirror in the center of your room, one passed down to you from your grandmother. Its faded gold frame glittered in the lowlight of your dim room, night sweeping over the city. You looked breathtaking. You delicately traced the curves of your dress, one your mother had bought for you before the war, telling you that you would soon grow into the stunning gown. Soon was now. 

The pale blue fabric hugged your body like it had been sewn onto you, faint white stripes dancing up your waist. You admired the beauty of the dress, its skirt flowing out like a bloomed tulip. 

Even though the dress was stunning, it was you, with you hair meticulously done and lips painted a deep pink, that was gorgeous. 

But you didn’t care. You didn’t care how dolled up you could make yourself. It was difficult to care about such things at all when the death toll climbed and the thought of Bucky shipping out gnawed at you relentlessly. 

But tonight was simple. Tonight was about playful jealousy, about flirtations, a night under fireworks, and laughter. Or atleast, that’s what you told yourself as you picked up your purse and left your room. 

Playful.

But this didn’t feel like joking.

This felt like everything.

A sharp knock at your door snapped you out of your deep thoughts. Carefully, you turned the knob to find William cleaned up before you.

“Wow.” You laughed lightly at his reaction, shaking your head. You wished you could say you felt warmed at the blush growing on his face as he took you in, but all you felt was pain. You wished he was someone else. “What did I do to get this lucky?” He teased, extending his arm which you gingerly took as you both began your walk. 

“Oh, stop. You flatter me too much.” You hadn’t meant them to, but your words came out a little cold. William was sweet. That was the problem. He was afraid to tease, to taunt, to tell you the truth. But you couldn’t quite blame him either, he didn’t know you.

No, he didn’t know you at all. 

The walk to the expo felt short. You and William filled the silence with clipped, casual conversations which seemed to fulfill him. But, your mind was elsewhere. You kept smoothing down your skirt with each step, absentmindedly patting down your hair, and straightening your necklace with each step, suddenly painfully self conscious as you imagined the countless ways in which you could potentially run into Bucky and Steve. 

“Here we are.” William’s voice brought you back to earth. The expo was extraordinary, not because of the fancy displays and odd exhibits that glittered before you, but because of the vast bubbling crowd. It was as though everyone had forgot the looming fate of the country, the growing fear and uncertainty, to come together for a night of wonder and excitement. 

Searchlights cut across the sky, music poured from places you couldn’t see, and the air buzzed with the smell of sugar, perfume, gasoline, and anticipation. Patriotic banners snapped overhead as crowds pressed forward toward the grand pavilion where tonight’s spectacle would unfold.

William leaned closer to be heard over the noise. “Impressive, isn’t it?” A bit dazed, your eyes glittered with childlike wonder,

“Something like that.” You smirked, before William took your hand suddenly pulling you through the crowd. Guilt gnawed at you as the thought of how Bucky’s hand would feel instead penetrated your mind.

It didn’t spark anything in you. Not the way a simple brush of knees across a diner booth had. 

As William guided you deeper into the crowd, you began to feel the proximity of the people around you.You scanned the area before you could stop yourself.

And then you stilled.

It shouldn’t have suprised you, hell this was all part of your ploy in many ways, but your breath hitched at the sight of your longtime friends.

Steve stood slightly apart from the noise, hands shoved into his jacket pockets, his blond hair catching the lights overhead. His date had drifted slightly, talking to another group of girls nearby, the sight briefly making your heart clench. Then, slowly, your eyes drifted to Bucky.

He wore his crisp uniform that fit him unfairly well, hair combed back, jaw sharp in the glow of neon. Hanging onto his arm was Susie Jones.

She was laughing too loudly at something he’d said, her gloved fingers curled possessively into his sleeve. It wasn’t like you to hate people for no reason, but in this moment, you felt a great sense of fury towards Susie Jones. Or maybe, a great sense of fury toward Bucky. Your brain felt scrambled and confused.

William followed your gaze. “You know them?”

“Unfortunately,” you muttered, but you were already walking, ready to abandon this childish idea to get back at Bucky altogether. 

It was too late.

Steve saw you first.

His entire face lit up. “Y/N?” You froze.

Bucky turned.

For one suspended, fragile second, the noise of the Expo dulled into silence. His eyes swept over you as he took you in slowly, deliberately, and his mask of casual demeanor he’d been so smoothly wearing cracked clean in half. 

Susie felt it too. Her smile faltered.

You lifted your chin.

Bucky wouldn’t stop staring.

“Evening, boys.” Your voice was smooth, composed.

Steve blinked. “You look—”

William stepped up beside you, interrupting, but extending a polite hand. “William Hayes.”

Bucky straightened his back. He was a bit taller than William, who instinctively replicated Bucky’s posture. You felt your stomach twist. 

Bucky stared at William’s hand for half a second too long before shaking it. His grip was firm. Too firm.

“James Barnes. We’ve met.” You felt uneasy, but you sure as Hell didn’t show it. Susie shifted in her heels, grumbling something to herself. “This is Susie.” Bucky added suddenly, as though her presence was an afterthought. Until, something shifted in his eyes.

For the first time he glanced directly into your eyes, holding brief contact while his own blue pair glinted mischievously. 

“She’s my date.” He added, a taunting smirk playing on his lips. Like he was taunting you. Like you were both 16 again, competing in prizeless contests of banter, wit, and unruly behavior. 

You weren’t one to lose.

Steve looked between all of you like he was watching a boxing match he hadn’t bought tickets for.

“Well,” he said weakly, “we were just about to grab some lemonade-”

“Perfect,” you cut in. “We’ll join.” William looked at you with a sliver of suprise before regaining his composure.

Bucky’s gaze snapped to yours. 

You held it.

You were going to win. 

Because that’s what this was about, right? Another game of teasing and taunting between you that held no weight. A relapse of youth. You told yourself these things as you shoved down the thought that, this time, everything meant so much more. 

The boys left to retrieve your drinks, leaving you alone with Susie who gave you an immediate nasty glare upon their departure before turning to her gaggle of friends. You couldn’t blame her, you knew you were intruding, so instead you looking toward the large state in anticipation to distract yourself.

When the boys returned, handing out your lemonades, you couldn’t help but notice the strange silent competition growing between Bucky and William, as each man made covert attempts to make themselves appear larger before you. Normally, you would have laughed at the obscure sight of contest before you, but this time, you felt uneasy.

Still, you were hot in the ring, and you weren’t going down without a fight. You hadn’t spent the entire last year building your confidence just to let it fall at such a dire moment. 

The fireworks began not long after.

Howard Stark’s voice boomed over the loudspeakers, theatrical and brimming with impossible promises about tomorrow’s technology, tomorrow’s future, tomorrow’s victory.

The crowd murmured and gasped as sparkling lights exploded overhead.

William talked in your ear about innovation and politics and policy, and you nodded at appropriate intervals, too distracted to care about the way he explained things as though you didn’t already know them, but you could feel it. You could feel him.

Bucky.

You could feel his blue eyes on you each time you smiled.

You could feel the tension radiating from him when William’s hand would settle at your waist during a particularly loud burst of fireworks.

Another boom painted the sky glitter and gold.

Without thinking, you glanced across the small group of familiar faces around you.

Bucky was already looking at you.

Not at your pretty blue dress.

Not at your neatly done hair.

At you.

He looked Soft. Hurt. Confused. Possessive.

The next firework flickered through the black sky, and suddenly Susie was leaning in, tugging on Bucky’s crisp sleeve. “Jamie, let’s go closer!”

Jamie.

Your jaw clicked and your stomach churned. You inhaled sharply, not because of annoyance, but because of a sudden terrifying realization that dawned upon you. This feeling was far more than jealousy.

Bucky didn’t move.

“Go ahead,” he told Susie quietly, eyes never leaving yours. For the first time, you felt your confident facade slip.

Susie sighed, finally growing exasperated with the tall man before her then disappeared into the herd. Steve had long since been pulled away by a gaggle of neighborhood boys you recognized, all fervently debating enlistment paperwork.

It was you, William, and Bucky. 

William suddenly sighed, as though the tense atmosphere was physically weighing him down as he turned to you leaned down. “I’m going to grab us something stronger than lemonade.” He left before you had a chance to respond. You weren’t offended. Your mind was elsewhere.

The second he stepped away, Bucky crossed the distance between you without hesitation. 

He didn’t touch you, but he was stood close enough that you could feel the heat of his body beside yours.

“What are you doing?” he asked, his low, rough voice sending a chill down your spine as he spoke quietly enough that no one else could hear.

You blinked, stunned, then feigning innocence. “Watching the Expo.”

“With him?” You turned to face Bucky now, regaining your boldness. 

“With my date? Yes.”

His jaw flexed. “You told me you were busy, Y/N.” The sound of your name on his tongue tugged at your chest. 

“I was.”

“With him?”

You tilted your head, feeling suddenly annoyed. “You seemed to manage just fine.” This was Bucky. The Bucky that everyone loved. The Bucky you watched date girl after girl. Just Bucky. Not your Bucky. 

Your brain worked at a million miles per hour as you tried to push down the feelings you were too petrified to confront. 

“That’s different.”

“Is it?” Your tone was sharper than you intended.

Another firework burst overhead, bathing his sharp features in glowing light.

“You don’t even like him,” Bucky said.

“And you don’t even like Susie.” You shot back. As soon as your words sunk in, you wished you had not said them.

His breath hitched, barely, but you heard it.

“Y/N.”

Was your name a warning, or a plea?

You swallowed, your confidence fully falling for the first time all night. 

“You asked me first,” you said quietly. “Technically.” You added, as though the clarification could subtract the rawness of your words. 

He stepped closer. You stiffened. 

“I asked you because I wanted to take you.”

The overcrowded expo suddenly felt small.

“And I asked Susie because I was tired of waiting.” You swallowed, brows creasing in a mix of confusion and hurt. 

“Waiting for what?”

“For you to stop pretending you don’t know.”

Your pulse thundered in your ears.

“Know what, Buck?”

His eyes searched yours like each glance was an attempt to memorize something before it vanished.

“That every time you leave a room, I feel like something is missing.”

The fireworks boomed louder. There was more applause.

“That when you wrote me while in D.C., I didn’t feel proud, even though I should’ve, I felt terrified.”

Your heart cracked open.

“That I don’t care if you like Steve more, or how many men stare at you on the sidewalk,” he continued, voice rough yet simultaneously wavering, “because they don’t know you. They don’t know how you get awkward around waiters. Or how you aren’t afraid to laugh too loud or curse under your breath. Or how you pretend you’re not afraid of being left behind.”

You stopped breathing. Bucky knew you. Bucky knew all of you. 

“And I’m shipping out soon,” he said, softer now, eyebrows furrowed and eyes pleading. “And, God Y/N, I couldn’t go without knowing if I ever even had a shot.”

Everything inside you stilled. 

All the jealousy, the scheming, the pride, the games, gone. You swallowed 

“You did,” you whispered.

He froze.

“You always did.”

For a split second, Bucky transformed before you. He looked like that 16 year old boy at Grand Central again. Hopeful and terrified and brimming with youth.

William’s voice called your name from somewhere behind you, and the once shut out world crashed back in.

Bucky glanced past you toward the sound. And just as quickly as it came, the hopeful air between you shifted. His eyes glanced toward William, in normal clothes, then to you, then briefly down to his own uniform. It all happened too fast for you to comprehend.

William approached, Bucky’s shoulders fell. You wanted to reach out for him, but your body didn’t react in time with your brain, or rather, your heart. 

“I’m not asking you to wait for me doll.” he said too quickly. “I won’t do that to you.”

You finally reached for him, mouth opening to speak before you could stop yourself.

Your fingers caught the corner of his sleeve, grazing the soft skin of his wrist.

“I don’t want you to go,” you admitted, the truth painful and unpolished.

“I know.”

The fireworks reached their crescendo, the sky splitting open in white and gold brilliance.

“I love you.” You gasped. Suddenly, for the first time in the almost ten years you knew him, Bucky Barnes was about to make you cry. 

And just like that, before even waiting for a response, he left.

And you were furious.

You hadn’t slept. 

It was the morning after the expo, and you were restless. You had rolled out of bed once morning came, slipped into your clothes, and left your house quietly in a disheveled state. 

Brooklyn felt strangely dull. Heavy clouds loomed over you darkly, down the block a radio hummed faintly with morning news announcing static words about enlistment numbers and foreign fronts.

As you walked, muscle memory carried you down the empty streets while your mind grew restless. You stared ahead at the familiar neighborhood streets and replayed those three words. 

I love you.

The way Bucky’s face had changed. The way Bucky had stepped back. The way Bucky left.

These thoughts swarmed your brain incessantly. You let out a curt sigh of exasperation, taking a sharp left turn on your heeled foot into Bucky’s neighborhood. 

You found his door.

You knocked.

No answer.

It was strange for him to be out of his apartment this early, but after you loitered long enough by his doorstep, you left for your next stop. You hated to admit it, but you were desperate.

You needed to find him.

As you climbed down the metal stairs leading to Bucky’s door, you rerouted back towards your own neighborhood to see if he was staying with Steve. 

On your way walking back, a green and white awning caught your eye. A large sign swung faintly in the wind that hinted at the upcoming storm, it was the corner store Bucky favored for cigarettes, which you always begged him to stop smoking. You swung the door open, silently thanking fate that the store was open at such a strange hour. 

“Excuse me Sir,” your voice came out loudly, startling both yourself and the store clerk. “Has James Barnes come by this morning?” You tried to disguise the pain in your voice. 

“Left early,” the shopkeeper muttered. “In uniform.”

Your stomach dropped.

Uniform.

No.

You turned around quickly without bidding the man farewell and walked faster. Then faster again.

By the time you reached Steve’s door, light drops of rain finally began to trickle down, hitting against the hot concrete of the sidewalk.

You didn’t knock, no, you burst loudly through Steve’s door.

Steve jolted up from the tiled kitchen table, shocked. He had a silver spoon in one hand and a paper in the other, mid shoveling breakfast into his mouth. 

“Y/N? What on earth—”

“Where is he?” Steve’s expression changed from surprise to worry instantaneously once he registered the anxiety painted all over your face.

He stilled, and you could have sworn you felt your heart stop.

“Steve. Tell me.” Your voice quivered despite your steadfast efforts to remain composed.

Steve stood slowly.

“They moved up the departure,” he said quietly. “He’s shipping out this afternoon.”

Your world stopped.

“You’re lying.” 

“I wouldn’t lie about that, Y/N.” Steve spoke softly, like he was trying to console a hurt puppy before him. You didn’t want to cry, but a few stray tears fell nonetheless.

The rain battered harder against the windows. You backed toward the door, halfway turned towards leaving, halfway turned towards Steve.

“Where?”

“Y/N—”

“Tell me where, Steve.” You rose your voice slightly, but Steve’s composure remained unaffected, all you could read from his expression was pity, and that simply angered you even more. You couldn’t give up. You didn’t want to. 

He exhaled. “The processing center near the docks. They’re supposed to be done loading out by evening. But-“ Steve called out to you, but it didn’t matter, you were already gone.

Once you reached the docks, the rain had crescendoed into a violent thunderstorm. You were utterly drenched, rain plastering your hair to your face, soaking your dress until it clung to you like a second skin. The world blurred gray and green, soldiers rushing in a blur of lines among loudly shouted orders.

You stuck out like a sore thumb. Civilians were not supposed to be present. You did your best to annoy brief sideways glances from the passing faces surrounding you like a swarm of bees. One pesky bee, or in reality, a guard obstructed your view.

“Miss, you can’t be here.”

“I need to see James Buchanan Barnes,” you snapped, breathlessly, rain falling down your burning cheeks. “Sergant Barnes. He’s shipping out today.” 

“That’s not permitted—” The guard seemed aggravated and uneasy by your presence, holding up his hands as though the motion could alleviate your panic. 

“Arrest me, then.”

The guard faltered. 

“Ma’am, please-“ it was too late. You weren’t listening. Because, through the chaos of hustling bodies and thundering rainfall, you saw him.

You saw Bucky.

Turned away from you, you recognized him by the back of his head. His duffle was slung over his broad shoulder. He was nodding faintly at something another soldier said.

You didn’t think. In that moment, you, for the briefest moment, became that reckless, awkward 16 year old girl again. Or rather, she reminded you the importance of being loud. Of being bold. 

“BUCKY!” 

Your voice ricocheted through the rain. 

He froze.

Slowly, he turned.

The moment Bucky’s eyes found yours, every ounce of composure left his face.

You marched toward him, like the sergeant he was  dressed to be, stumbling slightly on the wet pavement, ignoring the stares of stilled men around you, the whispers, the officers glaring at the soaking, erratic girl pushing through a military line.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” you demanded, shoving his chest. He was firm and strong in standing, but the sudden motion caught him off guard, sending his shoulder back a few inches as he gasped in surprise. 

He blinked at you, stunned. “Y/N? What are you doing here?” You scoffed incredulously.

“What am I doing here? What are you doing Buck?” Your voice cracked. “You don’t get to tell me you love me and then walk away like I’m fragile and need protecting!” A few men nearby laughed and murmured upon hearing your declaration, but you didn’t care. 

Rain trickled down the curve of his sharp jaw. He looked wrecked.

“I wasn’t protecting you from me, Y/N” he said hoarsely, saying your name like it was too taboo to utter out loud. “I was protecting you from this.”

He gestured vaguely. You looked around. You saw the crowd. The ships. The uncertainty. The bitter, cold anticipation of death. 

“I don’t care,” you shot back. It was a white lie. You did care. You just couldn’t find the words to explain what you truly meant. 

“You should.”

“I don’t!” Your voice broke fully now. “Not as much as I care about you.”

Bucky swallowed, eyes wracking over your face in pain. 

A few soldiers nearby pretended not to watch.

“You think I can just go back home,” you continued, stepping closer, fists clenched, until you were inches from his face  “and pretend I didn’t tell you I love you? You think I can just fold that up like one of your dumb, short letters and box it away?”

His breath hitched.

“Say it again,” he whispered. 

You stared at him. You were suddenly painfully aware at how close you were to his face.

“I love you, Bucky.”

His hands came up like he wasn’t sure what to do with them, like he was debating if he was allowed to touch you.

“You have the worst timing in the world,” he murmured, voice shaking as his coarse, warm palm pressed to your dampened cheek.

“I know.” You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. 

He let out a broken laugh that sounded too close to a sob.

Then he pulled you to him, and he kissed you.

Rain soaked you both as your fingers harshly pulled at the fabric of his uniform, his hand cradling the back of your head, deepening the kiss as though every brush of your lips was fleeting, desperate. Like you would disappear if he loosened his grip.He tasted like salt and rain and the bitter word “goodbye.”

When Bucky finally pulled back, you were both breathless as his forehead rested against yours.

“If I come back,” he breathed, “I swear im marrying you Y/N L/N.”

You let out a shaky laugh through your hot tears. “I don’t like the word “if.”” You stilled. “And that’s not a proposal.”

“Then it’s a promise.”

A sharp whistle blew behind him.

“Barnes!” A distant, unrecognizable voice called.

Reality.

He closed his eyes briefly, taking your fingers in his hand, pressing them against his lips.

“I have to go.”

You shook your head. There was nothing you could do.

““Don’t let this place make you small again.”

Fresh tears trickled down your face.

“I won’t.” You whispered. 

He stepped back.

And for one horrible second, you grabbed his hand again.

“Come home to me, Buck.” you whispered.

His expression softened into something unbearably gentle.

“I’ll try, doll.”

He released you.

And then Bucky Barnes walked away. 

August 10 by Julie Doiron ~ lyrics 

I'm sorry, sweetie, please, don't go

I always knew that you would know

I know that what I did was wrong

I always thought I'd be more strong

I guess I don't know what to say

You look like you feel the same way

I feel like I could run away

You'll find me here another day

Bye, bye

Bye, bye

Bye, bye

Bye, bye

Part two soon… ?😏

[noteguk]

bad influence: collection

Status: ongoing

All stories are written out of chronological order. Please do not copy, repost or translate any of my works. I only post here on tumblr. 

The drabbles are part of the main storyline!

↳ more lore about the bad influence couple can be found under the “bad influence” tag! 

↳  spotify playlist // all texts // chronological order // bi extras

↳ BAD INFLUENCE

— summary; in which you know Jungkook is a bad influence on you, but you can’t avoid falling for him every time.

— contents and warnings; pwp, badboy!jk x goodgirl!reader, car sex, dirty talk, fingering, hair pulling, breast play, jk has a big dick and an attitude, unprotected sex (condoms are your friends), jk being kind of a douche, use of the word “slut”, cum eating, creampie, cockwarming, possessiveness, he slaps her ass like once, enemies to fuckbuddies pretty much

— words; 4.5k

→ drabble one: first meeting 

→  drabble two: mid-sex arguments 

↳ BAD BEHAVIOR 

— summary; in which staying late to volunteer at a self-help meeting was the best decision you made in a while. 

— contents and warnings; the endless adventures of badboy!jk x goodgirl!reader, public sex (in a church…), dirty talk, fingering, degradation (name calling) but also praise, unprotected sex, clothed sex, creampie, cum play, there is a window and also reflections, rough sex, cockwarming, jk being a lil shit because that’s his main personality trait, jk smokes (only mentioned), enemies to fuckbuddies: dawn of the first day 

— words; 8.2k

→ drabble three: hickeys 

→ drabble four: calming you down

→ drabble five: jungkook’s bday bj

→ drabble six: be quiet

↳ BAD REPUTATION 

— summary; in which you have to deal with some strange emotions for the first time.

— contents and warnings; smut, angst, fluff, the endless adventures of badboy!jungkook x goodgirl!reader, enemies with benefits/enemies to lovers ;), mutual pining, huge trigger warning for feelings (I know, gross), jk smokes, jealousy, a bit of possessiveness, the oc is Confused and Angry over nothing, Jisoo would trade jk’s soul for one corn chip, the oc gets shamefully drunk, vague mention of drugs (no use), mean arguments :((, the smut warnings include: dirty talk, unprotected sex (don’t be dumb), oral sex (female receiving), grinding, fingering, cockwarming, edging, multiple orgasms, begging, overstimulation, praise, dom!jk x sub!oc, breast play, creampie, orgasm control/denial  

— words; 19,6k (don’t mention it)

↳ BAD ATTITUDE

— summary; in which Jungkook finally learns how to behave. Kind of.

— contents and warnings; pwp, smut, badboy!jk x goodgirl!reader, enemies with benefits/enemies to lovers, brattysub!kook x dom!reader, actually more of a switch!kook/switch!reader, the oc is kind of a demon with teasing because payback is a bitch, bondage, edging, dirty talk, begging, oral (m receiving), female masturbation, cockwarming, unprotected sex (don’t be dumb), creampie, stuffing, Taehyung makes a cameo, terrible use of the two wolves meme I’m so sorry

— words; 7,2k

→ drabble seven: nerves 

→ drabble eight: night drive

→ drabble nine: pregnancy scare 

→ drabble ten: slow 

↳ BAD HABIT 

— summary; in which your little secret starts to get out of hand.

— contents and warnings; smut, sprinkles of fluff and angst, mutual pining, the endless adventures of badboy!jk x goodgirl!reader, enemies with benefits/enemies to lovers, smoking, mentions of alcohol, mention of vomit, jk and Jisoo are mortal enemies, Taehyung gets his eureka moment, and for the smut warnings: dirty talk, spit kink, dom!jk x sub!reader, breast play, rough sex, mild possessiveness, grinding, so much kissing, oral (fem receiving), cum eating, spanking, manhandling, bondage (using a belt… anyways so-), unprotected sex (don’t be dumb!!! this is fiction), very vague corruption kink, creampie, cockwarming (no one is surprised), praise, degradation makes a comeback (+ use of the word “slut”), the long awaited return of jk being mean, orgasm control/denial, oc kinda cries out of frustration but she’s having a good time, they are in love but are too dumb to realize

— words; 16,7k

→ drabble eleven: home

→  drabble twelve: sexting 

→ drabble thirteen: almost

→ drabble fourteen: sidetracked 

↳ BAD ROMANCE 

— summary; in which the two of you finally make it official.

— contents and warnings; gross fluff, a bit of angst, smut, badboy!jungkook x goodgirl!reader, enemies to lovers, honestly emotionally constipated idiots to lovers, so much mutual pining, cinematic parallels, cute dates, a spark of jealousy/possiveness (mostly playful), the return of car sex, dirty talk, breast play, dom!jk x sub!reader, fingering, spitting, oral (female receiving), cum eating, semi-clothed sex, unprotected sex (don’t be dumb!!), a fuckton of praise kink bc jk is going through it, another glimpse into the demon that lives inside the oc lol, begging, mentions of marking (hickeys), creampie, cockwarming (you already know), jk is whipped and he’s not even hiding it anymore, it’s official ladies!!!

— words; 18,4k

→ drabble fifteen: tribulation

→ drabble sixteen: too much, too little 

→ drabble seventeen: payback 

→ drabble eighteen: hold your breath

→ drabble nineteen: [redacted]

→ drabble twenty: feels like summer

↳ BAD KARMA 

— summary; in which you two can’t run from your problems any longer.

— contents and warnings; smut, fluff, a disgusting amount of angst, badboy!jungkook x goodgirl!reader, enemies to lovers, (not so) secret relationship, arguments, smoking, they take a break, everyone is sad, jisoo feels betrayed, more cinematic parallels to the previous parts, FINALLY the L word, two smut scenes!, dirty talk, breast play, so much kissing, soft sex, oral (m receiving), deepthroating, fingering, pet names, praise kink, 1 single spank, unprotected sex (don’t.), creampie, sentimental cockwarming lol, one (1) mention of “daddy” but more mockingly than as the actual kink, anyways this goes downhill really fast but it has a happy ending so hang on!!

— words; 23,7k

[youbeautifultropicalfishy]

THE edit by @sosaneitsinsane

[mickyschumacher]

and the wedding goes on!

PAIRING: alex albon x desi!fem!reader

SUMMARY: going forward with your suggestion and a well earned dinner, you and alex can't seem to confine yourselves to the time limit of one night. but all seems to be going well in the wedding lands in the eyes of george and carmen. perhaps a little too good. but all that is good does not always last long because alex finds something other than your skin by the end of this wedding: your nerves.

WARNINGS: fluff, angst, little bit of arguing, desi culture, indirect desi trauma, white wedding, poor humour, jealousy, 18+ (minors dni), lots and lots of teasing, eating out, fingering, unprotected sex (explained), p in v, riding, overstimulation (f. receiving), freak and confident!reader, praising, light humiliation, size kink (go figure), interesting dom/sub dynamics

WORD COUNT: 12.8k

TAGLIST: @mayax2o07 @canyouseethesainz @wertyuizxcvbnm @cosmix-stxrs @sunshinevansh @ilocuras24 @gigigreens @dazaisdogsblog @chxseonrepeat @moonvr @athena63005 @noble-17 @2737377474883 @justaf1girl @angelonyourspeeddial @scottiequeen @albotross @brianna28483 @browni3sh @yellow14m @yapper3001 @anda333 @fullyinsanepartlywriting @zariacore @be4rnellis @17sdream

A/N: here it is!! the awaited chapter and you're well deserved new years' present. i apologise for the wait. i've been busy and got sick right literally before new years. i've incorporated quite a few requests into this in some shape or form so hopefully you can identify yours! there's more to come 👀 enjoy!!

🏎️ masterlist | ⚽️ masterlist | 🥂 anyone but you

You eyed the Waterside Inn and all they had to offer from the inside of your car as you remained parked. It was a pretty thing. A cosy inn with window boxes full of pink and magenta flowers that made its minimal white and black base pop. Just on the right of you was the River Thames, hence the name of the place, glittering back at you under what seemed to be some spots of the setting sun in England. How out of the norm. 

It was a shame you were coming to such a beautiful place to discuss something so... odd.  

You had won the competition. Obviously. It was then when you and Alex had decided to figure out the logistics of your... situation at the dinner you had worked so hard to earn. Although it was more about the title of winning, if anything. Because it had two days since the camp wrapped up and you had been dreading this moment. Okay, maybe that was a tad bit dramatic. You had been nervously anticipating this dinner.  

The whole thing was quite a lot itself. Sure, it was a nice, expensive place. But it even had a bloody dress code to get in. And while you did think the Mercedes you brought was a good look, it felt strange to be decked out in your car in almost broad daylight. Yes, you had been in sarees and lenghas in the middle of the day and even two in the morning. But considering the purposes of this meeting, you felt slightly out of place.  

You cleared your throat, shaking your head, catching a glimpse of yourself in the rearview. No. You looked good. Better than good, fucking great. Enough to make anyone grovel. And you intended to do exactly just that to Alex. Make him grovel... make him suffer... all one and the same. 

You breathed in one final time before grabbing your purse from the empty passenger's seat. Opening the car door, you swallowed hard. Let’s do this.  

Alex's eyes flickered over the Inn. It was teeming with people despite the high prices. He supposed the weather called for it. Your table was seated right next to the balcony overlooking River Thames. It was nice. Being able to absorb a little sun in England was a rare opportunity, even if it was setting.  

His fingers tapped the table gently as he waited for you. You were meeting at seven, which was in ten minutes. He had checked his phone in the past five out of boredom. Mad conversation with some of the staff who were fans. Anything to keep his mind from running away from him.  

He sighed quietly to himself, reaching to grab the glass of water in front of him. He could smell you before he had seen you, jasmine wafting through the air, practically grabbing him the collar. And just through his peripheral, behind the clear glass, he could capture your silhouette. The air seemed to thin, and his lungs curled with a burn as his throat wrapped around a choke cough.  

You seemed to walk in what felt like slow motion, showing him that simple black dress that fawned around your feet and was dangerously cut at the neckline, displaying a healthy amount of cleavage. Your silky hair he had been aching to touch was curled and pulled into a bun, few tresses framing the sides of your face. Your lips had been glossed over with a sinful shiny brown, doe eyes lined in black. Gold accented your neck and wrists, another variation of your endless jhumka collection. And cherry on top was the black bind just between your brows.  

Alex rubbed his mouth with his hand, discreetly covering his need to sink his teeth into his lips. 

Good fucking God.  

Did you always wear this to formal dinners? 

Your eyes seemed to widen with something he couldn’t quite place as you raked over his dress shirt and trousers. Surprise? Like you weren’t expecting him to be there before you.  

He let out the breath he had unintentionally been holding, clearing his throat as you pulled out your chair. Curling his hesitant fingers, he kept them on the table. "Hey," he finally said, giving you a brief smile while you placed your purse on the bag hook under the table. He hoped he sounded casual and not like the current mess his brain was in. 

You flashed him a similar smile, crossing one leg over the other. "Hey," you breathed, opting to be civil for the time being. Your eyes flitted across the set table, hand reaching out to grab the menu. "Anything good to eat?" You queried, looking over the options.  

Yeah... you, he thought, trying to keep his eyes on your face but God, you were making it difficult with your necklace just dropping down, resting in the valley of those delectable, plump, biteable— He swallowed the saliva in his mouth. "Um, the crab or the monkfish," he stated, voice somewhat clipped.  

You hummed, pursing your lips, acutely aware of how his eyes moved with every movement you made. You tilted your head at the suited waiter arriving to your table, smile naturally gracing your face.  

"Good evening, I'm Aman, your server for this evening. Can I get you anything to start?" He asked.  

Alex's face dropped for a moment, brown eyes incredulously moving to the waiter, annoyance almost immediately simmering through him. He wasn't sure what was worse. That this Aman had a decently carved face or the fact his sleazy ass had only taken a nanosecond to look below your chin. He pursed his lips, taking in a composing breath. "I'll have the monkfish and a cup of Merlot." 

Aman nodded haphazardly, jotting down the order before giving you his widest smile. “Anything for the beautiful lady?”

Alex almost rolled his eyes as you chuckled softly. "That's sweet of you," you said, trying to push down your grin. Yes, you had noticed this man's intentions right when you had seen him. It wasn’t hard when he made it so obvious. Unlike the driver in front of you, who was a little bit more difficult to read. Though that tight jaw made you think otherwise. "Um, I think I'll have the roasted milk lamb and the crêpes suzette for dessert. Later, of course." 

"More than happy to come back for such a lovely woman," he chirped. "Okay, if that was everything, I'll get your orders off to the kitchen." 

You tried not to wince. God, he was laying the flattery on thick. You kept your smile up and nodded, breathing a bit easier when he left. You cleared your throat, shifting in your seat, eyes flickering past the echoes of the sour expression on Alex's face. 

Alex leaned back in his chair, raising a brow at you. "No wine?" 

You shook your head. "I think I've had plenty in the past few weeks," you murmured, partly telling the truth. You really didn't need the wine. Not if you wanted to say or do something you’d regret today. You watched him nod, making you settle in your seat. "So... this... night," you started. 

He swallowed, not nervously but like he had been parched for days and yet his glass of water was half full. He pursed his lips, taking a quick breath in. "Yeah... how do you want to do it? Is there anything absolutely off limits? 

You raised your brow in surprise. Wow... he was getting straight into it, was he? You pushed down your smirk, opting to shake your head again. "Not exactly. Unless you're into knives or something," you chuckled.   

Alex nodded slowly, lowering his voice when he remembered where he was. "Right. So... choking, praise, degradation—" He cut himself off when you draw a sharp breath, crossing your legs all of a sudden. His throat bobbed. If he didn't know any better... 

"Fine. It's all fine," you murmured, voice tight while you reached for some water. Good God, this wasn't exactly the most dinner friendly conversation, was it? 

You rested your glass back down, watching his eyes drift to your lip gloss-stained cup briefly. You eyed him for a moment. You wanted to catch him off guard. Surprise him a little. "I have an IUD, by the way," you stated, making him mend his brows. Of course. You shouldn't be that surprise. "It's means you can go raw. If you want, that is." 

Alex could feel the air slip away, a simmering heat curling in his groin as he stared at you. Raw? Fuck, you weren't actually saying that in front of him, were you? His jaw tightened, fingers clenched around the table's edge. "I... is that something you would want?" He queried, mouth feeling dry.  

You rested back in your chair, feeling his eyes drop to your chest briefly. You smiled almost innocently—a sick, sweet evil plastered on your face. "I mean... don't you think it feels the best, Alex? It's always so warm, so wet... so tight it feels like—" 

"Okay!" He interjected with a heavy breath, pupils slightly dilated. "That's enough." 

You leaned in across the table, grinning at him as you whispered, "Why? You're not already hard, are you?" 

"___. Stop," Alex glared, chest heaving while he shifted painfully in his seat. God, this was humiliating. He almost sighed in relief when Aman came back with the wine, pouring into his cup while that idiot kept his eyes on you. But you only continued to look at him, smile coy.  

You hummed as the waiter went away when you didn’t give him a second more of your attention. You could imagine it right now. The large bulge in his pants, aching at the thought of you bare. And all you would have to do was take a small peek under the table. You swallowed the saliva in your mouth, resting back in your chair. "Let's do it on Wednesday night." 

He raised a brow at the timing. It was two days away. Which was fine. But the time of day…Weren’t you worried someone would hear you? “You don't have neighbours?”

You shook your head. "My building's too expensive to rent out. There's like five of us across the entire thing," you muttered. And far from your parents too. While you owned your apartment, the rent alone was enough for the owner to manage with just a few clients.  

Alex pressed his lips together. Of course it was. Of course, you lived in a place where he could entirely ruin you and he didn't have to think about anyone hearing those beautiful sounds from your lips.  

You sucked in a sharp breath, folding your arms, making it even more difficult for him to keep his eyes on you. "Just so we're clear, this is for the sake of Carmen and George," you reminded. 

He cleared his throat, nodding in agreement. "Right, yeah. Of course." 

Alex stood in front of your apartment door, hand hesitant to ring the doorbell. The ride here had been far too long for his liking. It was enough time for his mind to overthink almost everything. It wasn’t regret. But all the things he was imagining about you. About how this night would pan out. What he would do first. It was dangerous to drive and think. But what could he do? This was one night... a night he would've never imagined actually occurring. A night he had dreamed about before you had said it. And a night he had been counting the seconds to.  

He pursed his lips. Once he pressed the button, this would be it. It would start. And it would have an end, much to his dismay. He curled his finger before sighing to himself. Without another second to think, he had done it. The classic sound rung out loud as he took a step back, waiting with an unhealthy combination of patience and impatience.  

You took only a minute, punctual as usual, opening the door to let that jasmine whirl back around him once again. It didn't take a genius to figure out your entire apartment smelt like it, the aroma wafting through the air in swathes, making his knees almost buckle right there and then. His greeting died on his tongue as you stood in front of him. Your hair was out again, long and silky. You still seemed to wear gold at home, the metal shining back at him. And on your sinful body clung a red silk nightie, barely stopping at mid-thigh, leaving him with a new array of impure thoughts. 

Alex swallowed as you rested on the doorframe, faint smug smile ghosting your face, tempting him almost instantly. "Do you always wear this to bed?" He asked, shamelessly raking over you again and again.  

You simply smiled deeper and leaned a little closer to him, doe eyes peering up at him as your scent engulfed him, making his heart whirr. Your voice was a sweet whisper against his ears. "This isn't even my favourite one," you winked before pulling away, hip gently bumping the door a little wider to let him in.  

Fucking hell, he thought, taking a step in. His brown eyes swept over your apartment as he removed his shoes. What you had said at dinner that night made it seem like you lived well off but God, the outside of your building didn't do you any justice. For someone who lived in Monaco, this was pretty goddamn nice. It was just... you all over. A fusion of Desi decor and a modern touch in every corner. Even from the door, he could see flashes of the outdoor swing in your balcony.  

"Are you just going to stand there or..." 

Alex blinked, turning his head to find you a few steps away from him, brow raised and an amused look on your face. He stepped towards you, tall stature towering over you as he peered down at you. "Or?" He queried, hand reaching out to cradle your jaw, grip firm, touch searing into your skin. His chest hummed as you swallowed, the silence of your apartment quiet against the thrum of your heart thudding in your chest.  

Your lips were only centimetres away. The thin proximity made your blood run faster. The smell of his cologne and the brush of his shirt skimming your skin. You barely had any room to breathe.  

Your eyes flickered from his mouth to his hard gaze, the movement subtle and coy as the corners of your lips quirked. You kept your voice steady, unwilling to succumb to the threatening quiet his touch imposed.  

"Or are you going fuck me?" 

You weren't sure what had happened first: your hand flying out to make contact with his chest or his lips pressed against yours. It would be impossible to know and an argument you would pick on after all this was over.  

For now, all you could feel was those soft lips against yours—miffed and riled.  

Alex's body pressed against yours, unconsciously backing you into God knows where while you responded to him. He hadn't had time to figure out where he was going to ruin you. All he could revel in was the feel of your tongues finding each other, deepening this sinful kiss while he breathed helplessly, lungs struggling for air. 

His hand moved from your jaw to the back of your head, angling you just right so he could taste you better. Deeper. Like he wanted you engrained on his tongue.  

You could feel the soft plush material of your sofa curl under your bare legs as Alex seated you down, his knee slotted between your legs while he pressed into you. The air grew thick as your heavy breaths flirted with the wet sounds of your tongues and your mouths.  

His body pushed a little further in, drawing your heated core to his knee. And the stuttered gasp that had escaped your throat made his head spin.  

It wasn't just that you tasted better than he imagined after almost six years. It was dangerous. Addictive. He wasn't quite sure if he could let this all go after tonight. He needed this on repeat. Your soft hums, the sound of your hot kisses, the taste of jasmine on his tongue, the feel of your hand dipping into his hair, making his body churn—fuck.  

The small smirk of your lips against his told him he had sworn out loud. But he didn't care. Not when his large hand travelled up and down your bare thigh, toying with the hem of your nightie before slipping his hand underneath, fingers burning your hipbone. He smiled at your shudder, pulling back gently.  

He savoured the dizzy look on your face, keeping your gaze fixed on him as his hot lips trailed down your neck and to the valley of your breasts, kissing you through the silk. There was one thing he had affirmed on his way here. The first thing he wanted to do was taste you. All of you. 

Your fingers curled tightly in, knuckles white while your head tried to ease into the sofa, watching Alex bunch up the red silk to your hips—an easy feat considering how little of it there was.  

"Oh fuck," he muttered, head almost falling between your legs involuntarily when he saw the damp red lace. God, it was clinging to your cunt. You were just dripping for him. His brown eyes flitted to you, dazed and amused. "You always get this wet for the people you hate or is it just me?" 

"Shut up," you muttered, voice tight. Your body squirmed. You needed him to do something. Anything.  

Alex only smiled, hooking his fingers into the waistband to peel the lace away and toss it to the side. His hot breath mixed with the cold air against your folds, making you shiver against the couch. He could only grunt as his longer fingers pressed on your folds, feeling your hips jerk. His free hand reached to press you back down, fingers beginning to collect the flood of arousal that had been pooling, smearing around in short strides before circling those bundles of nerves.  

"S-Shit," you whimpered at the slivers of pleasure shooting through your core. You shifted restlessly as he teased, needing more and more as the minutes went by. He could tell you were frustrated. And as much as he wanted to play, he reminded himself of the obvious: he had only the one night. Like you had both agreed on.  

So instead, he let his long fingers push into you without any warning. Your lips wrapped around half a gasp and a choked moan, head instantly falling loosely back into the sofa. Good God. You could feel his fingers push in and out, slick sounds filling up your apartment. His thumb occasionally brushed over your clit, making your brows mend in pleasure.  

"That feel good, sweetheart?" He queried smugly, endearment slipping from his tongue like it was natural. "Bet no else's fingers reach down here do they?" He chuckled softly, curling his fingers in your tight walls, rubbing that spot almost instantly with easy reach.  

You could only moan in response. Unwilling to confirm his prediction. Yes. No man's fingers had fulfilled what the expensive toy in your bedroom drawer could do. Because no man you had ever been with was this big. This long.  

Your hips bucked against his hand, teeth sinking down into your swollen lips. Fuck, did this always feel this good? You almost complained when he removed his fingers. But you couldn't when he attached his mouth to your cunt.  

Alex's eyes rolled as he finally tasted you, the sweet, sharp juices melting onto his tongue as he instinctively pushed his face deeper. This was heaven. He was sure. He had thought your kisses were addictive but this... this was a whole new level of addiction. His fingers clamped into your thighs, pulling you closer if it was even possible at this point, letting him drink every single drop of you. He grunted when he felt your hand back in his hair, tugging his locks and guiding his head, pinching his scalp with a welcomed burn.  

"That's it," you whimpered, thighs trembling against his head while your hips rocked. "Eat me like the good boy you are." 

"Christ," he groaned against your cunt, lower region burning at your words. If it had been anyone else, perhaps he wouldn't have felt this way. But those words coming from your lips made it impossible to feel anything other than good.  

Your legs tightened around him, pleasure finally beginning to coil as your stomach tied itself in knots. Each lap of Alex's tongue drove you crazy. The peak of your flushed face and fluttered eyes told him what he could feel. You were so fucking close. So he continued, deeper and faster, prodding and flicking in places that made your hips lift of the couch.  

"Oh fuck!" You cried out, mouth hung open as the pleasure hit you with full force, eyes rolling so far you weren't sure what you were seeing. But he could. He could see how beautiful that orgasmic period left you. Skin littered in a shade of heat he had made, lips he had reddened, and a pleasure that made you radiate above him. Art. That’s what you were. Not that he would ever admit it to you.  

Alex pulled away, chest heaving rapidly as his tongue darted out to wipe the edges of his mouth. It was strange. The both of you barely had any of your clothes off and yet what you had done felt like the best committed sin in your line of relation.  

Surprised coursed through him when you looked at him for more. The look in your eye was something insatiable. Something that matched all the horrid thoughts he had had. And when that request fell from your swollen lips, it made him want to fall to his knees right there and then.  

"Can I ride you?" 

Alex could only groan out, "Fuck, yes." 

His clothes had come off in seconds after that, sudden urgency flowing through him, leaving him only in his boxers. His skin burned as his brown eyes glued themselves to you, watching you take off your nightie. He wasn't sure if you were intending his demise but with the sultry look in your eyes and the way the silk seemed to just slide against every curve off your body, he would claim you were.  

His heart screamed in his ears as he looked at your bare breasts as you sat on the sofa. No bra. Of fucking course. God, he was going to come just like this if you kept this up.  

You raised a brow, swallowing your saliva as you peered down at his large bulge. "I know you're an asshole, but you aren't going to leave me naked by myself, are you?" 

Alex blinked, looking down at his boxers. Fuck. He was nervous. Not because he was ashamed, but because he was positive, he was leaking like a madman because of you. If that damp patch told him anything. Still, he pushed down the fabric, aware of your keen eyes. 

Any words you had on your tongue seemed to die when you finally saw him bare. This was... He was... bigger than you imagined. It should’ve daunted you. That thickness... that length. That small little curve you knew would hook right where you wanted it to. With all your medical knowledge, you could confirm that that was dangerous. But your mouth salivated like the sick woman you were, cunt pulsing for the stretch and fullness you were about to get.  

Alex watched you stand up from the sofa slowly, striding over to him smoothly before your fingers perched up against his chest and your doe eyes looked up at him. You gently pushed him, guiding him back to the sofa so he fell into his seat. You had his attention. You had known it from the moment you opened the door. And right now, he was like a lost puppy, salivating, waiting for the next movement.  

His eyes fell to your parted lips, watching the warm saliva fall and thin out, dribbling out all over his large head. He sighed out shakily, muttering some vile words under his breath while your hand smeared it all over him, lubing him up as his hips squirmed. He looked back at you, large hand instinctively going to your waist as you straddled him. He ignored how perfect you felt in his touch, focusing on your now siren eyes. Christ, you were like vixen.  

A small smirk quirked at your lips as you aligned yourself. Your head dipped in a little further, hot breath ghosting over his mouth, eyes locking with his as you slowly sunk down. Your breath hitched at the push of his large head against your cunt, walls slightly burning as they stretched to accommodate him. Each ridge of him stuck to you, tight and warm. Even as you bottomed out, a little of him was still left outside while an imprint of him pushed against your lower stomach.  

"Oh fuck, fuck, fuck," Alex mumbled at the bulge he had left. This was going to leave him mad. Absolutely fucking mad. He swallowed tightly, flitting his eyes to you. His voice was strained. “Please move. I'm going to die if you don't.”

Your lightly demeaning giggle made his body warm. "I thought you'd never ask." 

Alex's fingers tightened around your waist as you lifted your hips up, taking one long drag before you slammed them down, beginning to set a new rhythm. It was sickening right from the very start. The squelch of wetness, the slapping of your skin as you bounced on his cock. It had the moans and grunts teeming from his mouth.   

His large hand moved from your waist and up your torso, groping your breast, needing any sort of stability as you rode him. His head dipped forward, teeth messily gnawing at your skin when he felt the deep grind of your cunt shoot through him, throwing him off balance. "Oh my God," he muttered against your chest before pulling back, needing to watch you. 

"Yeah? Does that feel good? You can hate me all you want, Alex, but you're going to love this," you breathed, throat catching a whimper as the heat curled low in your stomach. You could see his eyes fixate on the moving imprint and fuck; you could’ve sworn it made him pulse. And it only made you want to do it more. Let him see how big he was in your cunt; how full he was making you feel.  

Your body churned as his hand wrapped around you, travelling up your spine and into your hair, bringing you so close to him, it made you think of things beyond this night. You hated how he made you feel. So tall and big around you like he was protecting you as you rode him. Like he wasn’t faltering against you. Like you weren't riding his soul. And yet, it made your cunt ache with need.  

Alex's brown eyes flitted up to your face when he felt you squeeze around him, your brows beginning to mend, moans becoming sloppy and pitched. He groaned at the sight. "Come on, sweetheart. That's it. Cum on this cock you hate so much. Remember how good I make you feel," he grunted, groin burning.  

He could see the pleasure knock right through you, body convulsing over him as you felt entirely silent. Your hips seemed to slow down, but he continued your pace, letting you milk every drop of pleasure you could.  

Alex wasn't sure what it was. The smell of jasmine curling around him, the feel of your warm walls, your skin burning against his, your big eyes or the way your hair stuck against your sweat-cladded face but fuck, his hands twitched with control and pleasure. 

You hadn't taken even a second breath before Alex shifted your body, so your back pressed against his chest, leaving the both of you standing. Your moans felt filthy as he pushed into you from behind, leaving your back arching into him. You could feel him lean over, lips attaching themselves to your bare shoulder. You didn't need a mirror to know what this looked like. Because there it was again. Big, tall Alex covering you in a way that made your stomach churn.  

You could hear your skin slam against one another, lewd sound erupting into the air as he pounded into you. His breath was hot against your ear. "Fuck, fuck," he cursed, arm curling around your waist to press you closer. You could only gasp at the deep thrusts, body shaking with overstimulation. It was so much and yet you wanted more.  

Your eyes widen as his other hand easily reached over, slipping between your legs, finding your clit like he had already memorised it. You whimpered as he rubbed the bundle of nerves in circles. He wasn’t slow or gently. He was intentional and brutal. Like he had had enough of you ruining him. Like he was trying to imprint his hatred onto you, showing you exactly how he felt  

And all it had done was kept your eyes rolling. You didn’t want to know what the floor looked like. You could feel yourself dripping because that’s how wet you were. How much wetter you had become. You were sure this was unhygienic in every way possible. Yet you didn't care. The words that tipped form your mouth were, "Harder!" 

Alex groaned, teething digging into your shoulder as he pushed even rougher into you, your backside reddening from the sheer pressure. You were crazy. He could swear it. And he'd known it for years know. But this... this he should’ve expected when he wore that towel around his hips in the cabin. Oh how shy you acted. How flustered you pretended to be. But the truth was, you were as sick as him. Incorrigible.  

"Alex—fuck!" You sobbed out, feeling your stomach tie itself into knots again. It was difficult not to when you had already come twice. When he felt this good from behind. You could feel his fingers move from your waist, gently pressing against your neck so only just cut off a little bit of air flow as he gave your clit a small pinch.  

And that was it. You were entirely gone for. Jaw hung open, eyes rolling in disbelief as the sharp pleasure hit you once again. Leaving your body trembling in his grasp.  

Alex, who had been curbing his urge just to see you fall apart over and over again, succumbed to his raw desperation, thrusts stuttering while he chased his release. His groan against your ear was hot and low while he spilled into you, teeth clamping down into your skin.  

You both breathed heavily as the truth embarked with the silence filling your ears. You could feel his arms loosen around you, softening cock gently pulling out of you, making you hiss quietly. You felt sticky and gross. Was it the sweat or the fact you had actually just gone through with this whole idea? You had no idea.  

Alex swallowed tightly, keeping his eyes from looking down at your cunt. Because the moment he even saw an inch of himself spill out of you, he knew he'd turn into a different sort of animal. He shakily took a breath, stepping back as you turned back to him. Of course, you still looked like a goddess after everything.  

You could seek the shine of awkwardness in his eyes threatening to break through. But before you would let it, you cleared your throat. "Um, you can shower before you leave, if you want." 

He stared at you. The sore reminder of tonight echoing in his head. One night. To make your best friends' wedding go smoothly. That was this was for. And after that, all you had to do was go back to hating each other. Like normal. Like nothing had changed.  

Alex ground his jaw as you walked up towards his car. It had been two weeks since your night together. Fourteen days since he slipped out of your apartment and got back on the road to his house like nothing ever happened. You had both filled your time accompanying George and Carmen in their wedding endeavours or doing some of the small side quests.  

He hadn't said a word to George about what had happened. He wasn't sure if he wanted to. He knew how he'd react. He knew what he'd say. And right now, he didn't have the capacity to withstand those comments.  

Not when you opened the passenger seat dressed in that tight one shoulder white shirt and that small goddamn black mini skirt that dug into your thighs as you took a seat. You were both fulfilling some more side quests at the request of Carmen and the wedding planner. Begrudgingly, you had accepted to carpool with him since it would be easier. But God, you weren't making anything easy for him.  

He had been trying to get that night out of his head. Because the more he thought about it, the more he distraught he became. Yet here you were. Ruining his plans as per usual.  

So he kept his mouth shut and simply drove. 

"God, I mean, why did they even hire a wedding planner? How do we still have to decide the flowers. I thought that was their thing?" You huffed, folding your arms, giving a small glance to Alex. You almost frowned. He had said nothing for the past fifteen minutes, just silently driving to your destination. The only thing talking was you and the music playing from the radio.  

You pursed your lips and narrowed your eyes. "Do you think roses are too basic?" You queried. Still nothing. You raised a brow. "Did you lose your hearing or are you actually ignoring me right now?" He remained quiet, eyes focused on the road, long fingers curled around the steering wheel.  

You clenched your jaw. Fine. Two could play at the game.  

Alex didn't think twice when you turned up the music, taking an odd glance when you rested your feet on the dash of his Porsche. But then you had done the unthinkable. Because out of the corner of his eye, he could see your hand creep underneath the hem of your skirt and pull down a small bundle of white lace past your thighs and off your feet. His heart lurched as you hiked up your skirt and your legs slightly parted. His throat bobbed, choking on the cooled air in his car. His voice was firm and loud. "What the fuck are you doing?" 

"Well, since I don't have your attention," you hummed, bringing your two fingers to your mouth, slathering them in your saliva. "I figure I'll just give myself some," you muttered, slipping your fingers between your legs and pushing them into your cunt.  

He couldn't believe his eyes, flickering between you and the road rapidly. Surely this wasn’t happening. But your soft moans were indeed filling the air. His small glances were driving him insane. Your pebbled nipples underneath that shirt, free hand groping your breast while you pumped in and out of yourself, wet sounds beginning to clash with the loud music.  

Alex's fingers tightened around the wheel, knuckles white as your moans became louder. "I... you said one night," he exasperated, swallowing hard as he struggled to keep looking at the road as your bare cunt glistened at him, beckoning his name.  

"Oh fuck," you whimpered, hips bucking up as the heat curled in your stomach. Your fingers weren’t his. But they'd have to do the job. You bit down on your lip, giving him a hazed look, brows mended with pleasure. "Then maybe you shouldn't have been ignoring me," you sassed back, head tight with pressure as you writhed against his seat.  

He tried to breathe. Tried not to imagine your cunt dripping onto his seats, tainting the brand value of his car with the gold falling out of you. His pants were tight. The car felt impossibly small. And all he could hear was you. All he could smell was the mix of jasmine and your arousal, reminding him of that sweet taste he had just two weeks ago. The one he had been fighting like an addict.  

"Fuck. Feels so good," you cried out, gasping as you sped up your fingers, lewd squelch becoming wetter and wetter.  

The vein on the side of his throat popped, body straining with little control left. His jaw tightened, muscles taut as his one arm swiftly turned the wheel, car curving as the indicator blinked left and the empty early morning parking lot appeared.  

Evidently, you were too lost to notice the car had even stopped haphazardly between two parking spaces or that he had unbuckled your belt. Not until Alex had pulled your fingers out of your pussy, and moved your ankles smoothly, pressing one against the headrest and the other on dash. It was a matter of seconds before he leaned of the centre console and placed his mouth right where his brain and heart had been begging for him to.  

Your head pressed against the car window so awkwardly, but fuck, it didn't matter. Not when his tongue had flattened out to lap up all slick you had created in the past ten minutes. You cried out at the feel of his teeth grazing your clit before pushing his face even further down, large nose knocking against the bundle of nerves as his tongue prodded your hole.  

His grunts and groans reverberated through your core, letting your hand fly out to his hair, grinding your hips against his face. "Oh fuck, fuck, fuck," you mewled, eyes fluttering at the flame erupting in your walls.  

Alex's smirk briefly ghosted against your cunt before he felt you shaking just like you had the night, release hitting you like lightning, stars beginning to cloud our vision as he continued to lap at you, not letting you rest. His scalp burned at your tighter tug when he coaxed another one, tongue travelling across the bulb and shaft of your clit skilfully, letting another wave of arousal fall right into his mouth.  

He savoured the taste, licking away the last few drops before pulling away, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He barely looked at you as he grabbed your lace panties that had fallen over the console and ran them back up your ankles, finally moving his gaze to your flushed face. With a small grin, he closed your legs and hiked your skirt back down, letting them rest back down in the passenger's seat, clicking in your seatbelt.

And just like that you were back on the road, silent as you were before. Your ears throbbed endlessly, heart still pacing as the minutes passed. Holy fucking God.  

"So... roses for the centre? Is that what you were asking about?" Alex queried like he hadn't just given you the most mind-blowing orgasm of your life. He gave you a quick glance. "Did Carmen have any opinions? She's normally the one doing flowers for everything." 

You blinked blankly, tilting your head to him. Still evidently dazed. "What?" You asked, brows half scrunched while confusion poured into your face.  

He looked at you with a faint smirk. "What? You have my attention now." 

Ugh. You clenched your jaw, settling into your seat and folding your arms. You weren't sure if it was anger or embarrassment coursing through your veins. All you could feel was the heat of it. "Just shut up and drive, you idiot." 

Alex sighed as he looked at himself in the mirror, all suited up in white and navy blue — the accent colour George had chosen. This was it. They were finally getting married today. All his efforts would come out today.  

The venue had been the Pembroke Lodge in Surrey. A Georgian two-storey mansion. Most of the decor had been sort by you. The catering and guests' side of things had been left to him. So all he needed to do was the last-minute checks.   

He grabbed his phone from his bed, ready to leave his hotel room to reach the lodge. With a small press of his handle, he was out in the corridor, door halfway between closing when he had spotted you leaving just a few rooms down. Well, he had heard you before seeing you, your payals wrapped around your gold heels chiming as you walked, mystifying him. Before he knew it, he was walking towards you, entranced with this pied piper.  

Your slightly widened eyes told him that he had been seen. His fingers tightened around his phone as you truly came into view, dim corridor lights doing you injustice. Honestly, he wasn’t sure if this was a dream or not.

Your saree looked like it had been plucked from the heavens itself, a mix of shimmering white and light blue, leaving one decorated strap of the blouse on your shoulder as the dupatta curled around your body and weaved over your right arm. Your gold continued onto your neck and ear, sparkling white and blue jhumkas hanging off your ears. Your hair flowed like silk, curled in at the ends, eyes lined in a soft black, lips painted in a gentle brown, while an intricately designed diamond bindi sat between your brows.  

"Do you think they have some extra hairclips at the venue? I'm supposed to put my hair up, but I can't freaking find any. How does this expensive ass hotel not have any hair—" 

"Keep it down," Alex found himself murmuring, making you blink in surprise as you stood in front of each other.  

You gave him a small glare. "I know you want me to look my absolute worst, but this is not the day—" 

Before you could get another word out, Alex's lips were on yours, hand on your waist with the other on your jaw, cold against the small sliver of exposed skin. Surprise coursed through your body, brain entirely malfunctioning as you melted into the kiss. Your moans were soft as he guided you back towards his room. 

"Alex," you gasped against his lips, spotting your lipstick already smearing onto his skin. "We need—" you mumbled, feeling him kiss you deeper. "—to leave," you breathed, voice muffled as you could hear the door close behind you.  

"Ten minutes," he muttered, pulling back just a smidge to plea.  

You pursed your lips at those brown eyes, darkened with lust. You sighed begrudgingly. You were pretty sure he was getting you back for that car ride. "It's never just ten minutes with you," you muttered, leaning in to wipe the brown lipstick off of his lips. Even in the parking lot, you had been there for at least fifteen with him just lapping away at you.  

Alex stared at you, hand moving to turn on the lights in his hotel room so he could see you better. God, this was insane. How could you look so... so... beautiful? He plastered on a grin, raising his brows at you. "You haven't given me the chance to prove it." 

Was this escaping your promises of one night? Yes. But really what was the problem? The wedding was still going smoothly. This moment was probably the last time you'd ever do anything like this with him again. 

"I don't think that's something you should be happy about," you retorted, agreeing nonetheless.  

He rolled his eyes, looking down at your attire that had brought him here in the first place. "How am I getting this off?"  

You pointed a finger at him, giving him a stern look. "Keep your filthy hands off my saree," you muttered.  

Alex's lips parted as you slowly unwound the dupatta from your arm and off your shoulder, revealing the waist chain that had been hiding underneath. My God, did you want to kill him? He watched as you delicately placed the fabric on his bed, hands shimmying your body out of the skirt and tugging on the strings of your blouse, letting it hang off your chest. 

"I quite recall you liking my hands," he stated, shamelessly raking his eyes over you as he slipped out of his pants and boxers. 

You scoffed at his arrogance even though it was true. You stepped forward, lips a few inches away from his. "Can you just be quiet and fuck me?" 

He chuckled lowly, pulling you closer by your waist chain. "Your wish is my command," he murmured, hooded brown eyes peering down at you. His fingers reached up to your mouth, easily slipping past your lips to wet them. He breathed hard at the sight, still wondering what your mouth would do on his cock. After today, he'd never find out.  

Taking those wet fingers, he wrapped them around his shaft, heart skipping as he found your eyes glued to his lower region. He swallowed, hissing at the feeling. He should've been embarrassed at how hard he was. But his best guess was you weren't exactly dry.  

You sucked in a sharp breath as you felt him pull your panties to the side, body slightly cowering to meet your height. Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip, feeling him rub against your bare cunt. He was right. You weren't dry. You were drenched. All from a little kissing and talking. And it drove him crazy.  

"Oh fuck!" A reverent, guttural moan spilled from his lips Alex pushed his hips up into you, cock welcoming the warmth of your pussy, balls flushed against you once he fully bottomed out.  

Your eyes fluttered shut while his hips began to rut against you. You could feel his fingers curl into your waist, his other hand holding your jaw while he pushed his cock further into you, feeling his balls slap against you, lewd sound echoing in the hotel room.  

His groans rasped against your ear, hand moving to grab your clothed breast, thumb moving your hardened nipple through the fabric. He was already so stupidly close cumming. You just made it so difficult. The way you felt around him, so tight and warm. Jasmine-scented skin crazing him.  

You gasped at the feel of his fingers moving to your clit, having your eyes rolling already as he rubbed in slow circles. "Shit, shit, shit, shit," you repeated, opening your eyes to find him already looking at you. Your stomach churned. Why was he looking at you like that? Like he was admiring you. You hated when he looked at you like that.  

Your head fell to his chest, removing any chance of looking at him any longer. "Fuck, I'm going to cum," you breathed, body starting to shake as the pleasure built in your cunt, fingers loosely grabbing at his suit.  

"Oh fuck, same," he grunted, speeding his hips up. The way you clenched around him had him reeling. You could barely breathe as the familiar white light edged near you. 

Your fingers on his suit tightened, stomach churning while your jaw hung open. you gasped, any sounds from your mouth turning silent as stars covered your vision, body quivering as the waves of your orgasm rolled over you one after another.  

"Oh my god," Alex moaned, hips snapping faster into you. He could see your breath catch as he began to rub your stimulated clit again, pleasure beginning to build up fast. His hand moved from your waist to make you look back at him as he felt your orgasm vibrate around his cock. A low stuttered groan fell from his lips, hips faltering against you. The both of you moaned as his cum spilled into your walls. Your folds clamped around him, milking every last drop. Your head fell against him with a sigh, chest heaving as he pulled out gently after a few minutes had passed. 

You were about to reach for the rest of your saree when you heard a knock on the door. "Alex! Mate, open the door," George's voice filtered through the wood, making the both of you freeze.  

Your head snapped to Alex, eyes wide with horror. "Shit," you mouthed, looking down at both of your half-naked bodies.  

"Alex? I know you're in there. Your lights are on." 

The Thai man glared at his door. "I..." He struggled, looking at you helplessly when you gave him a look for speaking gin the first place. "I'm naked!" He called out, eyes reaching out for his pants. "Give me a minute." 

"We've literally shared a room and gone through throat infections together," George deadpanned, recalling those horrid historic moments.  

Alex turned to you, pointing towards the bathroom. You gave him a blank look before quietly siging, feet moving before you could even think, hands covering your shoes to muffle the sound of your payals. You peeked your head from the door frame, eyes wide when you found him throwing your dupatta and skirt haphazardly into the bathroom. 

"Alex!" You huffed, whisper shouting as you glared at him, holding your clothes up from the disgusting floor. "Stop throwing them like that. They're expensive!"  

He pressed his lips, returning the daggers. "I'll pay for the damages, okay? Now hurry up and hide. And be quiet!" He muttered, words falling from his lips faster than he could think before he closed the bathroom door. He shuffled back into his pants and returned to the front door where his best friend waited.  

George raised a brow as he entered the room cautiously. His eyes skimmed the area curiously while Alex greeted him. There was only a handful of reasons his friend acted this strange. And this setting gave him one. "Do you have a girl over?" He asked before slightly gasping. "Oh my God, is it Emily? I saw you two at the camp!" He chuckled, giving his friend a small celebratory nudge.  

"What the fuck?" Alex furrowed his brows, skin burning while he forced his body not to turn towards the bathroom. He was baffled to say the least. He could only pray you weren't hearing this. He shook his head frantically. "Mate, no. I have no idea what you're talking about." 

George rolled his eyes. "Shut up. It's such a classic. Best man and a bridesmaid. Honestly, I’m surprised to see you finally get over—" 

"Okay!" Alex interjected, eyes almost bulging out of their sockets. "W-Why are you exactly here? You’re supposed to be going to the venue to get ready soon." 

His friend blinked like he was trying to recall too. "Oh right. I'm going. I just need the cufflinks. Planner’s going crazy without them." 

Alex sighed lowly, heading towards his suitcase to grab the said cufflinks, taking a brief glance at the bathroom door. Good lord, let this be over soon. He swallowed, turning to George, placing the small velvet case in his hand. "There you go." 

"Thanks. I'll see you soon, hmm?"  

Alex only nodded, edging him towards the door. He let out a deep breath while he closed the door behind him, back almost sliding in relief. His eyes flickered to you as you came out of the bathroom, mostly dressed now. He swallowed, leaning forward as you adjusted your skirt.  

"So Emily, huh?" 

He choked on his breath, head almost instantly shaking again. "No, no. That's not something that's actually happening," he said, unconsciously trying to convince you more than George.  

You raised a brow at him, moving your hair to one side of your shoulder. "I saw you guys at camp too. That was definitely something," you pointed out blandly, trying to reach for the strings of your undone blouse.  

Alex blinked, small grin gracing his face. He stepped forward, inching closer towards you. "Oh really?" He queried, peering down at you. "Someone's been paying attention, huh?" He wiggled his brows. 

You rolled your eyes, fingers tiring as you struggled to tie up the strings. God, why had you taken them off to begin with? Were you that lust-crazed? "You wish," you snorted, resting your arms at your side while you looked at the mirror in the corner of his room, trying to spot an easier point to start from. "She was just gushing about you when she was helping out Carmen with her hair for the rehearsal dinner. 'Oh Alex? Yeah. He’s pretty cute. Yeah, we had a moment during camp.' Honestly, I was trying not to throw up." 

He pursed his lips, eyes narrowing at your miffed expression. That tone sounded pretty familiar to him... He blinked, taking in a quick breath. "Are you going to leave soon? We need to be going." 

You gave him a small glare. "I'm trying. I got Alexandra to do the strings in the morning and now you've gone and ruined them," you muttered, head turning to look at your back through the mirror.  

Alex mended his brows, eyes flickering to your lose blouse in the reflection. "Okay. Turn around," he sighed. 

You grumbled, shifting in your feet as you watched him step even closer. Your complains, however, fell quiet when you felt his fingers brush against your bare back, touch scathing your skin, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. Swallowing nervously, you could feel his hot breath skim past your shoulder while his fingers curled around the string, pulling them tight against your back.  

Alex gave you a small glance through the mirror, silent as he tied the small knots into place. And just as he finished, his long fingers brushed down your burning skin, against the string and then down your waist, lingering for just a second more before he pulled away and allowed you to breathe again.  

"Done," he murmured, voice thick while you slowly turned, doe eyes staring back up at him.  

You nodded with a tight smile, pushing your whirring heartbeat down. "Thanks," you murmured.  

You mended your brows while your eye skimmed over the venue. Okay. The wedding would start soon. The guests were finding their seats. The flowers looked good (a mix between hydrangeas and sweat peas—not roses unless you wanted to turn into a flaming hot mess). You breathed slowly, smiling to yourself. Everything was going well! And all you had to do was go and console Carmen.  

You blinked at the small tap on your shoulder, body turning gently. You smiled politely at one of your new acquaintances. "Hey Charles," you greeted. "Is everything okay? You look kinda lost," you murmured at his confusion expression.  

He nodded, thick Monégasque accent pouring out. "I was just wondering if you've seen Alex around?" 

You scrunched your nose at the name, body immediately flaring up, fingers tightening around the folder in your hands. "Alex? That cretin? Why would I have seen Alex?" You suddenly queried, words falling before you could even truly think about what had been said. Your skin still burned from a couple hours ago. "I honestly wouldn't even be in a ten-foot radius around him if it could be helped. Even his presence just—" you shuddered exaggeratedly.  

Charles pursed his lips, slightly in awe of what had just happened. He swallowed, blinking himself back to reality. "Um, right. I actually meant Alexandra. My fiancée? You know? The one I'm getting married to?" 

Your body burned with embarrassment and overwhelmingly so. "Oh," you laughed sheepishly, pushing your hair past your shoulder for some much-needed cool air. "Right, of course. Alexandra. Not Annoying Alexander. It’s confusing, you know. Similar names and all." 

He nodded slowly. "I mean... I'm glad you got that out of your system, I guess," he shrugged, trying not to read too much into it.  

You awkwardly laughed again, eyes darting around the venue. "Oh!" You gasped, pointing near one of the tables. "There she is. Alexandra," you emphasised the name, internally wincing at yourself.  

"Thanks..." Charled mumbled, beginning to walk away while you glared at the floor.  

Why couldn't the earth just swallow you hole? Was that truly too much to ask for? 

"Well, that was subtle," an annoying voice reverberated through the air. Alex peeked out behind one of pillars of the lodge, sun shining behind him like he was some sort of God.  

Your face hardened, turning to him with a less than happy expression, threatening him to say a word more. If he knew what was good for him, he would stay shut and do nothing.  

Alex only raised his hands, braving his defence while his lips quirked at your blank expression. He liked you pissed off. It was cute.  

"Oh you look beautiful," you gasped as you entered the bridal suite, finding Carmen all dolled up in her white dress.  

Carmen gave you a raised brow, eyeing you with an approving gaze. "And you look like a goddess," she retorted with playfully narrowed eyes before opening her mouth. "But I’ll accept your compliment. Thank you." 

You snorted, spotting the happiness on her face from a mile away as you took a seat next to her. You grabbed her hand gently, giving her a small glance. "Feeling nervous?" You asked.  

She pursed her lips, thinking. After a minute, she shook her head. "There are no nerves when you're in love," she murmured, smiling at the teasing look from her mother. She turned to you, giving your hand a squeeze. "I better be sitting where you are in a few years." 

You groaned, curling your lip in distaste. “Ugh, you sound like my mother,” you complained, hearing some of your other friends chuckle.  

Carmen grinned at you. “Honestly it's a shame they couldn’t come. They definitely would’ve left the venue with you as a fiancée,” she retorted. "And I know exactly who the lucky guy would be." 

You rolled your eyes, knowing what name it would’ve been if there weren't so many ears in the room. "Over my dead body," you mumbled, brows mending at the thought of you and Alex getting married. Pigs would be more likely to fly than that.   You know… statistically speaking.

"Things seem to be easier between you two," she commented. She had noticed, of course. While your small retorts never seemed to cease, it hadn’t been so incessant since the camp. Sometimes you stayed out of each other's way. Other times you would accept your fate and stand next to one another, even agreeing on the occasional task. There just seem to be less... tension. Like you had less burden on your shoulders.  

"Barely," you huffed, staring at her hand, keeping your face composed. Not giving her a mere look of 'we've actually fucked each other like you said and it's working out like you said.' Instead, you sighed dramatically. "I'm tolerating him." 

She hummed quietly, leaning her head on your shoulder. "I'm glad you're here," she whispered. "I would've gone crazy if it wasn't for you."  

You snickered to yourself, rubbing her hand gently as you kissed the top of her head. “I’m happy for you, Carmen. Really. George is perfect for you. He's everything I would ever want you to have," you murmured.  

Carmen swallowed. She had heard you say that many times over the past few years. Some random comment about how good her and George were together or how they complimented each other. But those were things she wanted to say to you. She knew things were tough between work and your family—a lot of it tied to your culture. You didn't have to get married or anything. And it didn't even have to be Alex, although it was preferable. But she just wanted to see you happy. You deserved that.  

"Are you heading right back to work tomorrow?" She queried with a small pout, head tilting to look up at you.  

You sighed quietly and nodded. "Patients don't wait," you mumbled with a small smile, trying to push away the stress of tomorrow. You were happy to go back to work, of course. Doing your best to help others was the joy you had found in it. The thankful smiles, the cries of joy... but it wasn’t all that bright nor easy.  

Carmen patted your hand comfortingly. "I'm proud of you, honey." 

You sucked in a sharp breath, straightening your back. "Okay, that's enough moping around. Let’s get you married!" 

"You're acting strange," George mumbled as Alex adjusted his tie for the fourth time in the past ten minutes.  

"No, I'm not," Alex muttered, letting his fingers go when he finally felt satisfied with the tie’s placement. He sighed, taking a peek at his watch. It was twenty minutes until the processional started.  

George mended his brows. He knew Alex like the back of his hand. This was this guy who's house he would show up to even when he wasn't there just to spend time with his family. This was the guy who he had roomed with far too many times. This guy was his family. And he knew when was acting weird. There was this distant look in his eyes and right when you questioned it, he was clam up and claim nothing was happening. Much like he had now.  

"Is this about the morning? Look, I was joking around. Whether you have something with Emily or not... all I care is that your happy," George exasperated.  

"Mmhm," Alex idly agreed with a hum. He didn’t want to talk about this morning. And he definitely didn’t want to talk about Emily.  

George pursed his lips. What the hell was wrong with his friend? "Is this about ___?" 

Alex snapped his head in a way that couldn’t have made it anymore obvious, brown eyes slightly wide. "What?" 

"Look, I know I kind of told you guys off. And I do feel kind of bad. But whatever you guys had going on... it needed an intervention." 

Yeah some kind of intervention that was, Alex thought.  

"And it worked. The atmosphere is lighter. You guys aren't fighting as much. I mean... is it so bad to say this is perfect for you?" 

Alex sucked in a sharp breath, pinching his nose bridge. "George, don't start—" 

George lowered his voice, keeping the conversation between them. "You like her. You’re head head over heels for her—" 

"—And she hates me. End of story. Can we just forget about this, please?" Alex exasperated, rubbing his face. How many times had he gone through this conversation with George?  

He had been caught a few days after that first dinner when he was trying to stalk you on your social medias. Of course, you were some mysterious goddess that had nothing of the sort. He supposed it made sense. George had mentioned you were a workaholic. When did even you have the time for yourself? 

And as the years passed, George had only found his best friend falling deeper. Long stares across the table, stolen glances from afar... It was all he could do when you seemed to have a strong dislike for him. Neither him, Carmen, or Alex knew the reason behind it. And it wasn't like Alex didn’t get under your skin. It seemed to naturally happen. But when it was the only way Alex could interact with you, George found even that was enough for his friend.  

George stared at Alex, studying him carefully. Trying to put the recent eased tension into a feasible explanation. It wasn't like you had become friendly or anything. But you two seemed to have been getting along. Willing to breathe in each other's space. And while he was the one who told you to sort it out, he couldn't help but think... 

"You guys hooked up." 

Alex's eyes flashed up, wide with disbelief. "No! No, we didn't— I..." he trailed off entirely speechless at the contented Mercedes driver who had confirmed his beliefs. "How could you possibly know that?" He groaned, head falling back.  

"Because only you would do something that stupid," George reasoned before narrowing his eyes. If he was just learning about this… "Carmen doesn't know, does she? Fuck," he sighed, shaking his head.  

"And she can't know! Leave it up to ___ to tell her. I’m sure she'll figure it out in some way." 

George stared at his friend incredulously. "You can't just confine me to a lie when I’m about to get married, Alex! Oh my God, you're in an idiot." 

"George—" 

"Alex, what do you think happens when this wedding finishes? Hmm? Do you honestly think you’ll be able to look her in the eye and let her go to some other guy? Huh? Kiss some stranger?" 

Alex's jaw clenched at the thought. "Don't say that—" 

"I'm being realistic, Alex. Look, I want you two to be together. Nothing would make me more happy but you have to realise the consequences of this." 

Silence filled the gap between the both of them, the heat of arguing simmering down. Alex took in a deep breath, putting a hand on George's shoulder.  "Come on. We got ten minutes. If you want to talk about this, let's talk after your honeymoon." 

"Alex—" 

"I promise we will. But I don't want you to think about this right now. I need you to be stress-free and happy because you, my dear friend, are getting fucking married." 

"What is wrong with you?" Alex queried, concerned eyes not matching his mildly annoyed tone as he watched you pace around the waiting area, hand half wrung near your ear. The processional had begun and it was a few minutes before the both of you made your entrance.  

You huffed haphazardly, not having the energy to pick a fight with that stupid tone. Yet the words seem to spill easily. "This stupid goddamn earring will not go in for the life of me, we're out in a few minutes, and Carmen is getting freaking married!" 

He looked at you blankly. You were nervous. You, who rarely ever got nervous, was fucking nervous. He swallowed, rubbing the back of his neck, trying to figure out what to say. "I... I think you need to calm down," he muttered, instantly wincing at the sharp glare you had sent. Okay. Clearly that wasn't that right thing to say. He sighed, watching struggling with your jhumka that had fallen out on the way.  

"Okay, well, you are going to stab yourself if you keep doing that," Alex started, stepping forward to grab your hands, stopping you from moving. He caught your fleeting eyes, breath stuttering in his throat. He sighed in once again, gently picking out the earring from your hand, tucking into the inside pocket of his suit before his hand wrapped around a portion of your silky hair, the soft tresses making his skin shiver as he laid them over your shoulder. His voice fell to a murmur. "There," he breathed out, "No one know you have an earring missing." 

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to move your eyes away from him. You blinked, taking a step back. "Thanks," you mumbled. 

He nodded. "No problem," he replied back before offering his arm to you. "Come on. Time to go." 

You sucked in a shaky breath, hand moving to hook around his arm, pushing back the strange tingling feeling on your skin. You pressed your lips as you both walked further into the venue, eyes falling across the numerous guests. Fuck. Oh my God, this was it. Carmen was actually going to get married. In a few minutes, your best friend would come out looking like the most beautiful girl in the world and marry the man she loves entirely.  

Alex's ears perked at your nervous breaths, eyes flickering down to your trembling fingers curling around his arm. His heart lurched at the sight. He knew how much Carmen meant to you. He understood what this moment meant to you.  

He pursed his lips, watching the aisle inch closer and closer to the both of you. He needed to calm you down. Even just a little.  

You hadn't noticed Alex's head dipping down until you felt his breath brush against your ear. His voice like velvet as he whispered, "You look beautiful by the way." 

You blinked, head almost shooting up. You mended your brows in confusion. Had you misheard? "What did you say?" You murmured.  

Alex grinned quietly. "I was supposed to tell you this morning but well... things happened. So yeah, you look beautiful. Annoyingly beautiful," he muttered, playfully narrowing his eyes as you both walked down the aisle. His chest whirred at the small smile spreading onto your face while you rolled your eyes and looked at the front. At least you were smiling. He had done his job.  

You smiled to yourself as you watched George stand in front of Carmen, vows on paper tucked away because he had memorised them. Of course. He breathed in, giving a small glance to his soon-to-be wife.  

"Carmen... from the day that I first met you, I knew my life had changed entirely. Your fierceness, your humour, and your unrelenting heart—three things I had found myself admiring over that dinner. Three things I have fallen in love with over and over again. You bring me such happiness that I can only spend my entire life trying to make up for it. Yes, I promise to be there for you for worser or for better. Yes, in sickness and in health. But I also promise to deal with all the spiders you come across you don't ever have to touch them yourself. And to pretend your ball made the hole when we play golf—" 

"It did!" Carmen huffed, eliciting a laugh from you.  

George grinned widely. "And most of all, I promise to stand by you forever." 

Alex smiled gently at the small awes through the crowd, brown eyes flickering past Carmen to see your face. You looked content. So happy, one would think you were the one getting married. He liked it. The smile on your face. The one that was genuine and unafraid of the moment. It didn’t come out that often. He thought it was the most beautiful one you had.  

You watched Carmen sigh, corners of her mouth unable to stop tugging upwards even from the side. She looked at her fiancé, clutching her vows in her hand shakily before she took a glance down. "George, you're probably one of the most stupidest people I've met. Back then, it was hard to imagine how important you would become to me. You have the warmest of hearts, live passionately, love passionately... you aren't ever afraid to stand for what you love and I admire that the most. So I promise to support you in all your endeavours, no matter how big or small. To cherish what we have and create a life with you that fulfils all that we want. Even if that means eating what you make forever." 

You rolled your eyes, quickly wiping the single tear from your eye, knowing very well only a flood lied behind them if you didn't deal with it now. You pursed your lips, taking a small quick breath in as you resorted to a warm smile.  

Yes. Those two were absolute idiots together. But your Carmen had found her person. So even if he came with that nuisance just standing a metre away from him, you supposed you could deal with it for her.  

Familiar soft chords rang through the air as everyone sat and watched Carmen and George take their first few steps of their dance as a married couple. It was breathtaking. How still the room was while they were the only ones that moved, gentle fabric of her reception dress grazing the floor as George held her.   

You sat at the table, pursing your trembling lips tightly as the tears slowly fell from your eyes. You couldn’t help it. Not when you could see how much they loved each other just through their eyes alone. It wasn't often you had seen true love. Much less in your family. It was a complicated thing that was rarely expressed. But when it was right in front of you, happening for your best friend, you had to appreciate it.  

You blinked at your blurry vision, spotting a familiar perfectly folded handkerchief dart out in front of you. You looked at Alex who stood before you, hand stretched out patiently. You pouted in annoyance, taking the fabric and dabbing your tears from your face. Why was he always available with a handkerchief Was there no one else in the world that could fill this role but him? 

"Thanks," you mumbled, watching him pull out a chair and take a seat next to you. You had been thanking him a lot recently. You weren't sure if you had liked this new version of your relationship.  

The both of you watched George and Carmen in a momentary peace with everyone else, taking in every smile they flashed each other, the small laugh when he told her some stupid joke, or the slight flush when she complimented him. 

"Aren't they just so beautiful?" You found yourself saying, not necessarily to him but just out in the air. Like you just had to comment on this moment otherwise it wouldn't be true.  

Alex tipped his head to you, capturing your lightly flushed face and teary eyes that held stars as you watched the couple dance. He nodded slowly, not moving his gaze from you. "Yeah," he agreed with a soft murmur. "So, so beautiful." 

You pursed your lips, taking in a deep breath. "They really love each other," you stated, making him pause for a moment. He didn't like the way you had said it. Like you couldn't believe two people could ever be that entirely infatuated with one another. Why couldn't you believe something like that? 

He nodded again, this time slower, moving his head back to the dancing couple. "George will be good to her," he mumbled.  

You raised a brow, turning your head to him. "He better," you huffed, resting the handkerchief on your lap. "Otherwise, I know twenty-three ways to kill him medically," you muttered, half-serious.  

Alex snorted, amusement falling over his face, albeit a little scared of you. "I don't think you’ll have to worry about something like that. I think if Carmen asked him to kiss the floor she walked on, he would." 

You chuckled softly, nodding in agreement. "Probably. He's like a puppy whenever we aren’t around," you retorted, shaking your head. It was true. With all the stories you had heard from Carmen, she made George sound absolutely different from the guy you had met and seen on television.  

"Love makes you do crazy things," Alex murmured, making you fall silent.  

You didn't know how he knew that. Nor did you want to. You said nothing, opting to continue looking at the couple, smile naturally spreading onto your face, oblivious to the curious gaze boring into the side of your head.  

"You seem really happy for them," he said after a minute or so.  

You blinked, pursing your lips. You turned your head, giving him a small silent stare before you spoke, "Mudita." 

Alex furrowed his brows. "What?" 

"It's a Sanskrit word. Mudita," you breathed, settling back in your chair. "To take delight in someone else's happiness and well-being," you explained, smiling at Carmen and George. "For her, I'll always be happy." 

He blinked, swallowing thickly at your words. Digesting them. Mudita. He liked the sound of it. The meaning too. It was beautiful if he thought about it. The beauty of humanity itself—a sympathy for happiness. He pressed his lips together, turning to the front.  

"And what about your happiness?" 

You stilled in your seat. You didn't know what to say. It wasn't just that your answer resting on your tongue was 'What about it?' But it sounded different coming from a man that had seen you bare. A man you had spent years fighting with. It just sounded different when it came from him.  

Alex watched as you once again opted to say nothing, clearly not pleased with the question. But even in the silence, he could understand your answer. The one that cared less about you and more about others. And all it caused was an ache in his chest.  

© 𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐘𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑

[justk99]

ilya rozanov, max verstappen, nikolai lanstov all sit at the fucking same table and no i will not elaborate further

[mickyschumacher]

a compromise for the greater good

PAIRING: alex albon x desi!fem!reader

SUMMARY: there aren't many things you resent. but the name alex albon is one of them. unable to escape him from carmen and george's wedding duties, things take a turn for the worst when your differences start impacting the wedding. torn by george's plea to work it all out, you suggest something alex's would've never imagined in his six years of knowing you: one single night together.

WARNINGS: fluff, little angst, arguing and bickering, indirect mentions of mental health, desi culture, bit of desi trauma (comparisons and whatnot), kinda unconventional bachelorette/bachelor party, poor humour, jealousy

WORD COUNT: 13.1k

TAGLIST: @mayax2o07 @canyouseethesainz @wertyuizxcvbnm @cosmix-stxrs @sunshinevansh @ilocuras24 @gigigreens @dazaisdogsblog @chxseonrepeat @moonvr @athena63005 @noble-17 @2737377474883 @justaf1girl @angelonyourspeeddial

A/N: ahh first chapter!! i'm so excited!! a bit long and maybe not as much culture as you'd like but it's just the start! happy holidays everybody ♡︎ // i added those on my general f1 taglist but i totally understand if this ain't your thing! just lmk! :)

🏎️ masterlist | ⚽️ masterlist | 🥂 anyone but you

When Carmen and George had initially announced their engagement to you, you were over the goddamn moon. You had never been so happy for them. 

You had heard of F1 drivers. It was England, it was kinda impossible to live in the bloody country without hearing of it. Your impression of them had never been too good. They liked things fast as their women. Or so you had been told. They dated models, they lived life in luxury in Monaco, and they were sleazy, rude, and arrogant. They were simply men with a whole lot of money and perhaps little to lose.  

But you knew it the moment Carmen looked at him when she first introduced him to you... that look of love. George was the one.  

George had defied all the odds—kind, well-mannered, and sweet. It was hard to believe he was an F1 driver. However, on the occasion you watched races with Carmen on the screen, you did end up seeing some of his aggression. However, you had noted it was pretty tame compared to the other drivers.  

Nevertheless, almost six years later, your beliefs had been confirmed. George was indeed the one for your Carmen. 

The only problem was that with George didn’t exactly come alone. He came with Alex. 

Alex Albon, unfortunately another F1 driver and even more unfortunately George's best friend.  

You could still remember when you had first met him. God, it was unforgettable. Carmen had been six been into her relationship, and she and George had decided they wanted some of the most important people in their lives to finally meet each other. So they had planned a dinner, one that had suited to your schedule.  

You had arrived early to the restaurant with Carmen and George, leaving all three of you just waiting for Alex. But as time passed, it was clear he was getting late. The both of them had apologised to you profusely, feeling guilty you were using your free time out of the hospital for them. You only smiled, maintaining it was fine. You wanted to be there for your best friend.  

Carmen had begun ordering the drinks in the meantime while George claimed his best friend was just around the corner, hesitantly looking at his phone screen like something bad had happened.  

"I swear. He's not usually late," George huffed, rubbing his forehead with his fingers, evidently stressed.  

You smiled gently at him from across, resting your cup of water down. "Really. It's fine, George. I don't mind," you replied reassuringly, rubbing the glass idly while your eyes darted around the restaurant. You had been here for twenty minutes now. Most people had been just served their food while you were all awkwardly sitting around, waiting.  

"It's not fine," he muttered, shaking his head in distaste, blue eyes squinting at his screen, not too easily soothed by Carmen's hand on his arm. "You could be out saving lives, and this idiot is here wasting time." 

You drew a quite breath, leaning back in your chair. You smiled again, albeit it more resigned. You liked being away from the hospital time to time. The stale air and the ever-drastic moments of happiness and sadness sometimes became nauseating. It was stressful. Of course, it was. You barely got time to eat and the next moment you were trying your best to comfort patients as per guidelines and without 'too many emotions' according to your supervisor. It was tiring.  

So even this moment felt freeing. Even if this Alex was over twenty minutes late.  

"Jesus Christ. Finally," George grumbled, glaring at the clumsy figure entering the restaurant.  

You slowly swept your eyes over to where he was looking, gaze falling onto the tanned male who stumbled past a few tables. He looked dishevelled, hair all over the place and a permanent frown etched onto his face. You blinked when you locked eyes, watching him pause in his steps, brown eyes widening momentarily before they fell cold. Taken aback, you swallowed tightly, staring at your cup of water as he took across you.  

"S-Sorry I'm late," the male stuttered, not nervous but broody. Uncaring yet alert. Like he had made a big mistake walking into this place.  

Carmen wove her hand in dismissal. "It's fine," she chuckled softly, trying to ease the atmosphere. "___, I want you to meet Alex. Alex, this is ___." 

You pursed your lips, forcing a stretched mile onto your face while you extended your arm. "Nice to meet you, Alex," you murmured, hesitantly looking at his face again.  

His jaw clenched, brown eyes falling to your outstretched hand. He breathed in, not returning the gesture but instead giving you a firm nod and a somewhat polite smile.  

You refrained yourself from furrowing your brows. What the hell was this man's problem? He didn’t seem just disinterested but like you had done something to offend him.  

But that's when you had remembered. An F1 driver. That's what he was. You couldn't expect him to be someone like George. He probably had come here only at the request of his best friend. Just like you had. Except, he had no actual interest in meeting you. This was a waste of his time.  

Your skin burned in annoyance. You weren’t exactly sure why. Perhaps it had to do with the fact you were always expected to greet people when an open mind and heart. A contractual obligation and an innate value you had been given by your parents. But you couldn't help but let those rumours feed into this impression.  

Was this meeting so much of a burden to him?  

Could he not just play along for even a few minutes? 

"Can you try and just not kill each other?" George huffed as the three of you walked into a venue in Monaco. After working tirelessly and begging your supervisor to let you have two months off for the wedding (seeing as you hadn't taken any holidays since you joined,) you were here and ready for the best days of Carmen's life.  

Currently, you were here to do some planning altogether. Unfortunately, that also included the best man. Good ol' Alex. God, the name just made you want to throw up.  

"I'll try my level best," you sarcastically grinned at him, voice clipped. You looked around the venue, clean and tidy. Perfect for some stress-free planning. If only that were possible without someone like Alex. In all your life experiences, you had never met someone that could raise your cortisol levels and blood pressure so high. You had even considered admitting yourself to the ER just in case.  

George gave you a pointed look at Carmen greeted the wedding planner. "Why can't you two just get along? Don't you guys think almost six years of fighting is too much?" He queried in disbelief.  

"Well, if things were that simple, life would be easy. Wouldn't it, George? Then maybe patients wouldn’t come in with chronic illnesses and maybe I'd find a diagnosis to why Alex is so annoying. Spoiler. I haven't," you deadpanned, giving him a miffed look.  

"You know... if you like me that much, you could've just said so. You don't need to go around pretending to diagnose me," a familiar irritating, vexing voice filtered through the air behind you.  

George and you both turned to the figure, distaste immediately sprawling onto your face while Alex smirked at you, brown eyes simmering with a smugness that made you want to swear. You gave him an unimpressed look, shifting on your feet in a way that showed your disinterest so obviously.  

"Please. I'd rather inject myself with a corticosteroid overdose," you muttered, folding your arms, impatiently waiting for Carmen to finish her conversation.  

Alex blinked, confusion pouring into his face. "Is that... bad?" 

You pursed your lips, nodding slowly, skin beginning to burn. "It's... it's bad, yeah," you mumbled, slightly peeved you couldn't make a better insult. You didn't know what it was but every time Alex got on your nerves, you ended up breaking out in some sort of medical jargon-filled retaliation that made sense to only you. And it was frustrating. Because you never quite seem to get the upper hand like Alex did.  

You breathed in relief when Carmen beckoned for the three of you to come. Feet quick, you followed after her, leaving best friends with their best friends. Your ears perked at her small chuckle as you walked along her side, making your eyes narrow. She was always so easily amused by your banter with Alex and while you'd be happy to provide her entertainment in any other moment, this was not it.  

You took a seat in one of the rooms, gathering around around a table full of folders, plans, and ideas. While most of the wedding had been planned by the couple, as the maid of honour, you still had a few duties yourself—decor, parties, itineraries, admin. It would be held in England, near the area where they had just brought a new house together. Therefore, it wasn't particularly 'destination' but more local.  

You raised a brow at George and Carmen who had yet to take seat. "What are you doing?" You asked, suddenly feeling a bit uneasy when your best friend's eyes travelled to his fiancé's hesitantly.  

She smiled tightly, curling her arm around George's for support as they both looked at you and Alex. "Well, we thought it would be fun if you two figure your stuff out and um, well, we go out to do a little wedding shopping," she chuckled almost cautiously, swallowing at the way your face dropped. Instantly, her feet shuffled with George's towards the door while you discreetly shook your head, eyes beginning to glare at her.  

God, no. You were not being stuck with this... cretin alone.  

"Carmen," you hissed under your breath, fingers itching to pull her back to the table. “Seriously. Don’t do this to me,” you mumbled quietly, eyebrows knitting together to show your plea.  

"Okay, I think you're being a bit dramatic," Alex retorted from across the table, blinking at the sudden shift in your eyes when you looked over at him. "I'm great company," he maintained, hand referring to himself.  

You hummed idly, grumbling under your breath as you watched the couple sneak out of the room. "I'm sure you are," you replied, running a hand through your hair while you leaned back in your chair. "Maybe to something not human." 

He pressed his lips at your insult, tongue firm against the inside of his cheek in disbelief. He breathed in slowly, giving you a feigned smile, arms resting on the table. "Let's talk business then. I was thinking about getting George these silver cufflinks with maybe some teal. You know... for the Mercedes representation." 

Your lips parted in shock. You hoped the disgust in your tone was as obvious on your face. "Are you kidding me? Carmen is a gold girl. And this isn’t an homage to racing. It's a wedding. Leave the goddamn teal out of it." 

"What the hell is a gold girl?" He queried, unable to see why this was relevant. 

You laughed dryly, rubbing your forehead with the tips of your fingers. He was so stupid for someone so smart. You sighed, giving him a flat look, voice almost babying him. "Alex, I know you don't know many women. But see, women are either gold women or silver women. One or the other makes or kills an entire outfit. Gold is Carmen. Gold is class and culture. So George will wear gold cufflinks," you simply explained, voice firm.  

Alex looked at you blankly, brown eyes briefly falling to the small traces of gold adorning your body—your earrings, the necklace, the bangles…He supposed he understood what you meant. You always wore gold and never anything else. It suited you.  

He pursed his lips, leaning into the table, unaware of the tiny catch in your throat as he did so. "I didn't realise you were also the best man," he stated sarcastically, gaze locked onto your face, challenging.   

You ground your teeth together, narrowing your eyes at him. "It's going to be gold. End of story," you stated, looking down some of the files on the table. Sifting through them quietly, your finger paused at the ideas for the bachelor and bachelorette parties. Camping, winery tours, outdoor retreats, helicopter rides... these were all good ideas. "I really hope you aren't planning to bring George into a strip club or something," you mumbled idly, reaching to grab a glass of water.  

"What? I'm not that boring. We can just hire strippers." 

You choked on your water mid-sip, feeling it go down entirely the wrong way, making your chest ache and sending you into a coughing fit. You patted your sore chest, brows knitted together while you tried to ease the pain. Your eyes fell to the handkerchief handed out to you. Taking a quick glance at him, you begrudgingly took it, wiping your mouth and your top dry.  

You cleared your throat, wincing at the traces of pain. "Please tell me you're joking," you sighed, giving him a raised brow. You frowned at his silence. "You think Goody-two-shoes George will willingly have strippers for his bachelor party?" 

Alex chuckled softly. "The fact that you think he's so... innocent tells me all I need to know." 

You rolled your eyes, folding your arms. "I'm sure he isn't. But I can't imagine him even being comfortable in that setting. I mean, what if I did that to Carmen and me? The both of us just surrounded just by half-naked men grinding up on us? George would lose his mind."  

Those brown eyes clouded over momentarily. He could see it. In some rented house in England with the rest of the bridesmaids. And a group of those same half-naked men. Most of which would be eyeing you up because why wouldn't they? With your doe-like eyes and the jasmine scent you always wore, unknowingly you would be serenading them. 

Their hot breaths fawning over your skin.  

Their hands skimming past your body.   

Their bodies just inches away from yours.   

He clenched his jaw, fingers digging into the tablecloth, eyes blinking back to reality. "Fine," he sighed, uncurling his hand. "What do you suggest then?" 

You blinked in small shock. He was surprisingly easy convince with that one. "Uh..." You trailed off, taking a quick glance at the paper, pulling your lip between your teeth, unaware of the little swallow from across the table. "Winery tour?" You asked, looking back at him.  

Alex shook his head almost instantly. "We're wine testing in a few days," he replied.  

You continued to gnaw at your lip. "You could do a poker night?" 

"And make George lose all his money in one night? No thanks," he shuddered at the idea. That man was truly awful at poker and even worse of a sore loser. That type of combination was terrifying.  

You grumbled under your breath. Was this man ever satisfied? You scrutinised the list in your hand, tucking a nearby pen between the strands of your hair as you tried to come up with a better idea. After a few minutes of silence and the occasional glance you received from the nuisance across the table, you perched up with a sudden thought. "How about a joint party then? Something like an adult summer camp?" 

He raised a brow. "An adult summer camp?" 

You nodded enthusiastically, smile already ghosting over your face, body already getting excited at the mere thought of it. "We do all the fun kid stuff like archery, marshmallows, and stargazing but with alcohol but like in spring. Although archery and alcohol aren't a good idea. I’m recommending this totally off the record, by the way. No doctor would probably recommend this. But this could totally be fun!" 

Alex hid his small smile under his hand, watching you ramble incessantly and nonstop. Sometimes you did that. Talk without interruption, like you had all the time in the world. One of the few times you ever looked at him without any form of distaste or annoyance. You just had this light in your eyes that made his stomach churn. And the way your hair curled around your face... he made him fight the urge to reach across the table and see if it was as silky as it looked.  

He swallowed when he realised you looked at him, evidently anticipating some sort of answer for the idea you had proposed. He pursed his lips, sighing dramatically while he shifted in his seat. "I mean... it's not the worst idea." 

You gave him a small glare, raising a brow at him like you were daring for him to disagree with you.  

"Fine," he exasperated, raising his hands in his defence, leaning back in his chair in defeat. “Yes to your stupid summer camp.”

You were still in Monaco. Because 'there was no place like Monaco' for some wine testing according to George. Although you were pretty sure other places would entirely disagree. The clouds were out, hiding the sun, continuing the last few drags of winter as you slowly moved into the spring. You kept your jacket close around your body as you walked into the building. Though you supposed you wouldn't need it as much once you had enough wine in you.  

You smiled softly at the sight of Carmen waving you over but immediately scowled at lopsided grin on Alex's face next to her. You couldn't help but curl your lip in distaste. That face just brought you so much dread. Even the nicely swooped brown hair and those chocolate brown eyes and— 

"Come! Sit!" Carmen called out, tapping the empty chair next to her. George sat next his best friend, making it look like four friends who had come in broad daylight to get wasted (not tipsy) on some wine.  

You nodded, letting your purse fall down your shoulder and putting it on the bag hook under the table while you all got seated. You sighed quietly to yourself, watching the sommelier arrive to all of you, introducing you with a bunch of menus. You listened as she listed off the schedule. You were starting off with some popular picks and then some not so popular wines. You were supposed to note down what you liked and thought would work.

"This is going to be fun for you, ___. Since you barely drink and all. I think you’re actually gonna find out what you actually like for once," George commented, sifting through the menus as he gave you a small grin.  

You hummed, raising your brows in agreement. He was right. A whirlwind was nothing short of what this would be. Alcohol had never been quite your thing. Not culturally nor professionally. Your parents had strictly forbidden you from it until you had officially 'grown up.' And in a Desi household, no one knew what that meant or when that was. But you had gladly obliged with their rules as you had done so for so many years. Eventually, as you got through your years in medicine, they had offered you your first drink as a way of saying they were 'proud of you' and that you were old enough. It was that moment when the lingering questions of marriage had become serious. And all you could do was give vague answers and quietly sip along.  

You didn't resent your parents. But just like Alex, you had never quite met eye-to-eye with them. They were modern and old-fashioned at the same time. They were everything Desi culture was and wasn’t in a country they had come to—the definition of anthesis themselves. And a part of you couldn't blame them. But you couldn't stop the ache your heart they seemingly brought out either.  

"Oh I'm so excited!" Carmen gushed as the sommelier first poured some Sauvignon blanc.  

"You sound like an addict," Alex huffed from across you, ever-present grin sprawling onto his face.  

You tilted your head at him, unable to stop your sharp tongue. "Sounds like something you already know, Mr Monsoon Valley." 

Alex finally flickered his eyes to you, taking you in for a moment. How was your hair always so perfectly swept to the side? And how on earth did you make your skin glow so radiantly?  He had noticed the interested glances your way as you walked in. Even as you sat in front of him doing nothing, you seemed to make air still. A timeless beauty that irritated him to the ends of the earth.  

"I see you're keeping tabs on me," he responded with a raised brow and lazy smirk, folding his arms as he leaned on the table, watching you gently swirl the glass of wine curled in your hand. "I'm honoured," he sighed dramatically, resting a flat hand on his chest.  

You gave him a pointed look, sniffing the wine while you mulled over the cocky sight in front of you. Why did he have to look so good doing something so stupid? "I hardly think knowing a Thai oligarch counts as 'keeping tabs' on you," you retorted with a huff, taking a small sip of the fermented liquid. You blinked at the crisp and fresh taste lingering on your tongue. Hmm... that wasn’t too bad.  

"O-Oligarch?" Alex gaped, mildly offended at your words.  

"Do you know that means? See, it can be a wealthy individual who can influence a political and economic agenda," you smiled coyly behind your glass, voice gentle like you were talking to a child. 

Through gritted teeth and a warming face, he grumbled out, "I know what that means." He opened his mouth to retaliate.  

"Okay," George suddenly interjected, a wry smile stretching onto his face. His eyes tipped towards the sommelier close by who looked entirely amused. "Can we get the next one rolling? I think I’m going to need more if I want to survive this meeting," he sighed. Carmen only grinned quietly, entertained.  

You stayed silent this time, finding your eyes flickering to the French rosé being poured and then to the bottle. You blinked at the name. You had no idea what the true budget for this wedding was. Carmen had mentioned something about 'going wild' or as George had so sophisticatedly said, 'You only live once. And you only get married once.' And while you would've argued you had seen more marriages end in a hospital, you opted to not kill his vibe. 

"I feel like French rosé might be nice. It's a day wedding," Carmen reasoned as Alex took sip of the named wine, almost instantly blinking in surprise. And it was nothing good either. 

"That is way too ripe for a wedding," he muttered, reaching over to grab some water to clean his palate. "It's too strong with the food."  

Carmen and George had chosen the menu, a mix between English and Spanish favourites. Or as you had said, 'A mere hint of spice.' It was one of the few things they hadn't let you and Alex decide on, probably more terrified about the idea of letting you and food come together. It was a recipe for a food fight.  

You curled the rosé into your mouth, internally wincing as you kept your face neutral and composed. Alex was right. It was far too tart for a wedding. But you wouldn't openly agree with him even if it meant sitting here and suffering through this testing. You leaned back in your chair, watching George mutter some sort of agreement while Carmen begrudgingly came around, more excited when she saw a familiar bottle near the table. 

"Oh I love Albariño," she gasped, eyes big and wide as a new glass was placed down and filled.  

"Sounds like you," George poorly chuckled, nudging his friend with his elbow. "Albariño," he sung, leaving you wondering if he was already tipsy. Perhaps all that champagne had been drinking in the past few years had made him a lightweight. 

You all fell silent for a moment, taking a new sip to figure out what exactly you were tasting. You pursed your lips at the zesty and crisp notes, tasting the nectarine and lime along with its mineral hint. You supposed it was to be expected as it came from the coasts of Spain. "This one is nice," you murmured.  

"No, this is better for seafood," Alex retorted just seconds later.    

Your eyes sliced across the table, calm nerve finally hit again. "Do you have to disagree with everything I say or is that a personal default of yours?" 

Out of the corner of your eye you could Carmen press her lips together, half in disbelief and half amused while George raised his brows, trying not to let the corners of his mouth tug upwards, maintaining his usual sternness when it came to the both of you. 

Alex tilted his head, pulling on a feigned thoughtful expression before shaking his head. "I think your just disagreeable overall," he shrugged with a sly grin.  

"Okay, children!" George quickly huffed, hands darting out to quickly intervene. "The only comment I want from you two is if it's bad or good. Nothing less and definitely nothing more. Got it?" 

With your jaw clenched, you sat back in your chair, moving your eyes from the still grinning Alex. Deep breaths. Deep breaths.  

You sighed as you returned to the hotel room you had been staying at for the past few days. George and Carmen's Monaco apartment was crowded with everything to do with the wedding, leaving no space for you. And you sure as hell weren’t taking any sort of trip to Alex's bachelor pad.  

Carmen closed the door behind you, helping you rest some of the things you had brought for the wedding, small bags all hobbled on the coffee table nearby. She watched take off your jacket and shoes before you flailed onto your bed with a groan, skin slightly warm from all the wine. You weren’t drunk by any means. From all the wine testing, you had only sipped each one once or twice, body still not used to the alcohol.  

You peeked an eye at your best friend lingering stare, making you raise a brow in return. "What?" 

Carmen only smiled, taking a seat on the edge of the bed while she peered at you. "You and Alex—" 

"Ugh! Don't you start!" You moaned, annoyance already seeping into your veins. After being scolded by George, you and Alex had only resort to scowls and arrogant smirks from across the table.  

"I mean seriously! What is it with you two?" She chuckled, moving to lean on her side, face resting on her hand while she carefully watched you spring into a passionate spiel.  

"He's just so infuriating," you huffed, folding your arms while you stared at the ceiling. “He always has something to say. Always disagrees with me. And that stupid goddamn smirk I see every time I walk into the same room as him pisses me off." 

"Wow..." Carmen said after some time. "I don't think it's healthy to be that angry, doc." 

"Well maybe you should ask him to tone it down a little," you muttered. Over five years. That's how much time you had spent suffering from Alex's nonsense. And it had all started at that stupid goddamn dinner. Even as it ended, he didn't say goodbye to you, nor had he acknowledged you in any of the conversation that night. It was rude of him! 

"Or... you could, you know... actually fuck him?" 

You choked on the air, coughing lightly as you turned on your side, glaring at your best friend. You cleared your throat, ears in disbelief you were hearing this utter bullshit all over again. In addition to five years of pure annoyance from that man, Carmen had been suggesting this absolutely absurd idea that all this between you and Alex was pent up tension. That all you needed to do was bed your anger and frustration and everything would be fine. And every now and then, she liked to remind you of it. Like right now, for example.  

"Carmen—" 

"I'm serious! You're telling me you've never imagined shutting that mouth you hate so much with some divine sex?" She queried with a raised brow, making your skin warm even more instantly. "You could literally ride him and send him to fucking heaven or something. He'd probably love it so much, he won't have any hate left within him." 

"Carmen!" You hissed, eyes wide and skin now positively burning. You swallowed, throat bobbing as you tried to blink away the sinister thoughts in your mind. Every time she brought the idea up, you couldn't help but think of those large hands... that tall stature... you wondered if everything else was that big or... 

You sucked in a sharp breath, shaking your head lightly. "Okay. Unless you want to help me plan this camp, you can kindly leave." 

You were back in England after three weeks of being in Monaco and so was everyone else. Three weeks... that how much more time you had spent with Alex, planning this godforsaken adult spring camp. The bickering had been non-stop. Neither of you could agree on anything. Not the camp activities nor the food. Nor the music or the venue. It was a constant tension that zig-zagged between the both you, leaving you agreeing to take one idea each back and forth.  

Now you were here, at Wallace Lane Farm, in Wigton, Cumbria. You had rented out the twenty-three-acre farm near the Lake District. The green land went on for a while, accommodating small glamping houses for you to all stay in and allowing you to plan all of your activities.  

You were going to be here for five days, and you planned to make this the bed bachelorette/bachelor party ever. However, as you all stood in a group with all the other groomsmen and bridesmaids near the reception like children on a field trip, Carmen and George had taken the reigns to slightly hamper your plans.  

"So... obviously we have ___ and Alex to thank for this amazing camp. And while we want it to be fun and relaxing, we thought it would be nice to have a competition going on in the background." 

You frowned at George's words, shifting on your feet. A competition? What kind of utter rubbish was this? This was not in your schedule. Not a single mention in the folder you had drawn up with Alex's minimal input. Did these drivers ever rest? Was everything always a competition? 

Carmen clasped her hands, smiling sweetly at her guests. "So we paired you guys up! Each activity will be a competition. So the archery, scavenger hunting, knot tying sections.... each team can win them. And the team with the most points will be dubbed the camp winners with a paid dinner at the Waterside Inn." 

Alex mended his brows. That was in Berkshire. At least a four-hour drive away. What on earth were those two planning? 

You grumbled under your breath as Carmen started pairing you all off. It truly felt like you were back in school, waiting for teachers to let you finally go and explore camp. Your body became more alert when your name hadn't been read out until towards the end. Oh come on... please for the love of God no... 

"And last but not least, ___ and Alex! Our organisers! So that's everyone! You can all choose your places to sleep in with your team members. If I'm right, according to the schedule we'll come out some archery in thirty minutes and then have lunch!" 

You didn't bother even taking a glance at Alex, who's brown eyes bored into the side of your head. You could only narrow your eyes at Carmen, her innocent smile on her face anything but. The other guests peeled away, all falling into their own chatter, Lando and Max who had been paired together, happily talking. You watched your best friend inch cautiously closer to you and God thing she was...  

"Carmen, why are you hellbent on making me into a horrible person before your wedding?" You asked, standing in front of her with a frown. 

"You're being dramatic," she simply retorted, hesitantly laying a comforting hand on your shoulder like you wouldn't just fling it out of spite at this point.  

"I know what you're doing... and it's a basically a crime," you hissed. You couldn't sleep in that same room as him. Two separate beds aside! This was a punishment. Not a celebration of a wedding or the ending of bachelorhood.  

Carmen grinned. "Well, then I guess I have nothing to worry about then." 

You blinked as she walked away, supressing the frustrated grin lodged in your throat. You stared at the sky. God, why are you so testing?  

You sighed quietly, finally arriving to your room. By the look of Alex's duffle bag on his bed and the chargers plugged in, it seemed he had felt right at home. You stared at the small distance between the two beds, a mere three-rulers apart from one another. Five days of this. Five whole goddamn days.  

You planted a forced smile on your face after sucking in a sharp breath. It would be okay. Let’s not ruin the mood. You could do this. You were here for Carmen and by extension, George. You could withstand this annoying, menacing, absolutely vexing piece of— 

"You can take a shower if you want." 

You blinked at the familiar voice, turning around to find Alex. But not just any Alex. One that had come straight from the bathroom with a towel loosely wrapped around his hips, rivulets of water dripping down his toned body, brown hair all wet and damp. Your eyes lowered for a moment, capturing that v-line that went all the way down and down and...  

Your throat dried, cheeks instantly burning as you quickly turned around, hands instantly covering your eyes. "Alex! You can't be walking around naked in a shared cabin!" You groaned, body quivering with a strange warmth. This was outrageous! Oh my God.  

A deep chuckle fell from his lips, corners of his mouth tugging upwards at your flustered state. He slowly brushed past you, barely touching you while his brown eyes took a glance at how you covered your eyes. He grinned. In all his life, he had probably never met a doctor who was this scared of the human body. "This isn't naked. I can show you naked if you like," he offered, taking a seat on his bed, leaning back on his hands as he looked at you.  

You almost choked on your breath. You shook your head frantically, peeking through your eyes to guide yourself back to your side of the room. “I… that's really okay. I wouldn't want to throw up my breakfast,” you muttered whatever insult you could, putting your bag on the bed. 

Alex poked his tongue with his cheek, watching you slowly unpack. "You know for a doctor... I feel like you should really exercise every right to learn human anatomy." 

You hummed sarcastically, giving him a fleeting glance. "I don't really need to look at you to know you have the body of an idiot." Or some sort of Thai God, but you wouldn't comment on that.  

You sighed, tucking your hair behind your ears while you looked over your bag, an unnameable amount of clothes and small things crowded in there. Had you overpacked again? You could’ve sworn you brought everything you needed. Clothes, toiletries, a real first aid kid (because you didn't trust what everyone else had), and the schedule of things to do. You grumbled at the pair of eyes on you. "What?" You asked, finally turning to him.  

Alex blinked before shaking his head, moving his eyes of the small gold jhumkas hooked in your ears that you had revealed when you moved your hair. You often wore them or a variation. They reminded him a bit of home. Not England, but Thailand. He'd seen similar alternates in his mother's jewellery box as a kid. They always looked nice. But when you wore those every other time you saw him, he couldn't help but admire them.  

He watched you roll your eyes, returning back to your unpacking. Even while his shower gel lingered in the air, he could still smell it. The jasmine you always brought along with you. It was a strange thing, really. It was as if the sweetness of rain stained your skin. He had never really thought about it until a few years ago when the four of you had taken an elevator for some dinner and he stood behind you. Naturally, he towered over you and God, the floral smell just wrapped around him. He had to stop himself from lowering his head and looking like an entire weirdo just smelling you.  

"Okay," you breathed, closing your bag up while you caught his attention back to reality. "I'm going to sort out the archery. I don't really care if you come but if you do... please do us all a favour and put on some clothes," you muttered, not waiting for a response as you left the cabin. You needed to get out of here. Any second longer with him half-dressed would drive your mind into a place that would be difficult to get out of. 

Soon enough you all stood (although begrudgingly in your case) in your teams on the grass while you reminded yourself standing next to Alex was fine because you were doing this for Carmen and George... trying to be civilised that is.  

You tried to listen to the staff who explained the archery set up but the lingering presence next to you made it difficult. You sighed to yourself, tilting your head to him. "So... do you have a game plan?" 

Alex tilted his head, looking down at you. "I win and you try your best?" 

You drew your eyes back to the target metres away from you, shaking your head. Why did you even bother asking? You chewed your lip as Alex stepped forward with the rest of the members along his row, picking up the bow a bit too naturally for your liking. The object of the game was effectively simple. Whichever team got the most points from the target would win.  

Truth was... you sucked at archery. You had included it in the name of camp culture and under the impression you weren't going to be in teams trying to win points. But here you were, in a place where skill actually mattered. One might’ve thought all the accuracy skills you had picked up in medical school would help you. But as you had sorely found out in a game of darts in your last year of university, that wasn't the case. And the worse part was you were entirely sober.  

You flickered your eyes to Alex who drew the bow back, keeping it close to his face while he eyed up his target. You pursed your lips. How could he be so serious about this and so stupid every other second? What was next? He was actually good at archery too? 

The wind warped around his body as he finally finished sizing up his target. He leaned his head a little back, eyes squinting with precision. His fingers curled tightly around the bow, aiming his release and letting the arrow fling into the air.  

Your mouth fell open at the arrowhead nestled into almost perfectly in the bullseye, just a few centimetres off. What in the absolute hell... 

You swallowed at the cheers and claps as Alex turned to you with a smug smirk and the unloaded bow at hand. He stretched his hand out, bow dangling towards you. You pressed your lips, awkwardly reaching for it. 

Alex furrowed his brows at the strange look on your face. Your big, wide eyes that were usually bright were slightly dull. You just looked so… out of place. "Are you okay?" 

You took a glance at him, slightly surprised at his concern. Your lips parted, brain scrambling to think of something to say. The truth... a lie... you had no idea. "Um, well, if I'm being honest. I don’t think I'm gonna help you win this one. Uh... at all. Like statistically speaking, a zero percent chance and it's significant. Like p-value below 0.01 significant." 

He looked at you a bit blankly, trying to gather any form of understanding from your words. "You don't know archery?" 

You gave him a pointed look. "I know archery. I just..." You trailed off, eyes darting around the place before you sighed in defeat. "I suck, okay? I’m horribly bad at it." 

"Oh... that's it?" 

You mended your brows together. You weren’t expecting that type of reaction. You were expecting him to make fun of you like he usually did. But the way he said it made it seem like you were having a meltdown for no reason at all. "Well, yeah," you said dumbly.  

Without saying another word, Alex's hand curled around your wrist, dragging you towards the shooting spot while kept the bow underneath his other arm. Your eyes fell to the fingers strangely searing your skin. You wanted to pull out of his grasp. But in this moment, it seemed you didn’t have any other choice. You blinked as you stood still, just a few metres away from the target now.  

"First thing, stand with one foot apart from the other. Yeah, just like that," he nodded, approving your stance. He leaned back, quickly grabbing an arrow from a nearby quiver. He gave you both the bow and arrow. "Now hold this like you usually would." 

You pulled your lip between your teeth, lining the arrow up with your bow before pulling back against the bowstring, shakily keeping your sight on the target. The colours seemed to blur. Black, blue, red, and yellow... they all looked the same at the rate you were going.  

Alex pushed down the small smile on his face. You looked cute when you were nervous. He cleared his throat, eyeing your stance. "Keep your elbow down a bit. And use your lips as an anchor." 

Your eyes darted to him, slightly. "My what?" 

"Your lips," he repeated with a loose grin. "Or do you need the scientific word for that too?" 

You grumbled under your breath, following as he said, strangely pressing your mouth slightly against your hand while you tried to look at the target. It was better. But not enough to win. You could feel Alex inch closer, merely centimetres apart from you, heat radiating from his body as he murmured to himself, warm hand lightly covering your shoulder while his other hand covered the stretch of the bow, pressing themselves against your fingers at the end.  

You fought the urge to not shiver. This is probably the closest you had ever been to this heathen. Aside from that time in the elevator. God... how were you ever supposed to hit the target now? 

His mouth dipped close to your ear, voice low, lips dangerously grazing your ear in a way that made your knees weak. "Breathe in and align yourself." 

Your stomach churned as a depraved thought flashed through your head. No. God, no. You breathed slowly in, blinking rapidly before narrowing your gaze on that centre ring. 

"And release." 

Your eyes widened as your arrow hit the outer yellow ring while you slowly drew your bow down. Holy shit... you did it. You actually did it. Your head snapped to Alex, words dying in your throat when you found his brown eyes already on you, face so close to yours. You swallowed thickly, shifting on your feet to take a step back. "I... um... thanks," you murmured.  

Alex lifted head a little, cocky grin naturally sprawling back onto his face. "You're welcome. Now don't get it twisted. I need you to win so I can win. Okay? You're lucky you even get to learn something out of this." 

You sighed quietly to yourself, giving him a small glare as you shoved the bow towards his chest, making him take a few steps back. That stupid grin of his and that cocky tone instantly sobered you up, grounding you in the reality of the years you had known him: he was one hundred percent the most annoying man you had ever known.  

After archery (where you had indeed placed first after Carmen missed endlessly and Lando found himself stuck in the black rings), you had opted to stay clear of Alex as much as you could, sticking with some of the other guests for lunch and dinner and finishing all the small things like brushing your teeth so you could go to bed before him. That being said, you were still wide awake that night, back turned away from him, still thinking about what had happened. The way he talking to you while trying to teach you archery. It was like... it was like he was talking you through it. Immediately you had blocked any further thought of it, slamming your head against your pillow like that would help you.  

Today's activity was something more... scout like. Knot tying.  

Now this... this was up your alley. While you hadn’t into girlguiding like any of your other friends growing up, you mother's sewing kit and your father's attempt to fit in by fishing had taught you a thing or too. Not to mention, if you knew how to suture, you knew how to knot.  

Alex winced at the bright sun as he walked out on the grass, drink bottle at hand. God, for Spring in England, this was quite a lot. His eyes darted around the field, looking for you, and in an instant, he found you. It wasn't ever that hard. It was more difficult not to see you. Especially when you laid on the grass, soaking in the warmth of the sun against your glowing skin. Especially when that silky hair splayed across the cuts of grass and the navy blue and white of your sleeveless kurti called to him.  

"So... do I need to teach you how to knot too?" 

Your brows furrowed at the sudden shadow casted over you. You opened your eyes, finding Alex hovering over you. You looked up at him, not noticing the way he gulped at your momentary soft gaze. "Trust me," you smirked, pulling yourself up from the grass before turning to look back at him. "I know knots," you exasperated, patting his shoulder before brushing past him, leaving your touch searing into his skin.  

You all sat in your teams, listening to the instructions. All you needed to do successfully create the right knot according to the list, get them checked off and get a point. While this one could have winners, you were sure this would only really come in handy towards the end, where all the points would truly matter.  

"Okay, this can't be a real knot," Alex exclaimed, brows tightly furrowed at the bundled rope in front of him and the picture on the nearby piece of paper. He had been trying for a few minutes now and you had done nothing to help him, simply feasting on the fruit bowl given to you.  

"I'm sure that why they call it the 'Cat's Paw,'" you dryly remarked, taking the rope from his hands. You brought the rope together, creating two big loops before twisting them around themselves three times. Alex watched as you swiftly brought the loops together and put a hook through them, giving the end a short tug.  

He blinked blankly at the sudden knot in front of him, flitting his eyes between the paper and the rope that was now being checked off. This was ludicrous! Who on earth learned this? Well, you apparently...  

He sighed, looking over to the last knot on the page worth ten points. "Bowline," he mumbled, scratching the back of his head. He furrowed his brows. That looked basically loose! How on earth was that a knot? 

"This is the most useless thing I've ever learnt. Of course you would do pick knot tying at bachelor party," he muttered, shaking his head.  

You gave him a pointed look. "It's symbolic, you idiot," you retorted, flickering your eyes to George and Carmen who were laughing and grinning together. "They're tying the knot," you said so obviously it made his skin warm. "Besides, I could tie a knot with my mouth. This is practical stuff, Alex. You'll never know when you need it." 

He tilted his head from across you, staring at you curiously. "Prove it." 

You paused, raising a brow. "What?" 

Alex leaned to the fruit bowl nearby, picking the stem off a cherry before handing it to you. "Tie a knot."  

You gave him an unimpressed look, hoping he wouldn’t encourage it such silly nonsense. But those firm brown eyes told you everything you need to know. He thought you were fibbing. "I'll do you one better," you smiled slowly, leaning over to take the stem from his fingers. "I'll make the bowline and this one at the same time." 

So Alex watched. He watched those pretty lips part open, tongue slightly darted out to show you were indeed putting the stem in your mouth. In his peripheral he could see your hands move smoothly, looping the rope in some manner that made no sense to him. His heart paced at your kept eye contact and the small smile on your mouth. He could see your tongue briefly move inside your month, doing God knows what to that cherry stem. He swallowed hard, shifting in his seat almost uncomfortably.  

His breath caught in his throat as just a minute later your mouth opened and lo and behold, rested a knotted stem on your tongue and a well tied bowline in your hands. His tongue prodded the inside of his cheek while he rested back in his chair, staring at you not with in disbelief but... something you couldn't quite place in those slightly dilated pupils.  

Aside from the usual chatting and drinking that had been taking place before and after the activities, you weren't particularly jazzed about today's event—water balloon fighting. Call it England's godawful weather or the fact that it was one of Alex's chosen activities. All you had to do was hit someone other than your teammate. And the winner was the last team standing. 

"What are you trying to do? Kill Alex?" Carmen queried with a grin as she found you sitting on one of the nearby picnic benches, watching some of the guys carry buckets and buckets of water ballons onto the field.  

You gave your best friend a dry look, finding her taking a seat next to you. "I'm in a tankini and a beach coverup," you deadpanned. "The only thing that's doing any killing is the sun and the alcohol." 

Carmen rolled her eyes. Ever the logistic you were. "Still. It's not like Alex ever sees you like this." 

"He barely ever sees me," you retorted. Statistically, you were more likely to be able to count how many times you had seen him compared to how many shifts you had taken in the hospital.  

"And yet you hate each other like your families have had generational battles against one another." 

You simply sighed, not opting to comment on it. You were never truly able to explain what you and Alex had because you didn't know quite yourself. All you knew was that he was a rude F1 driver that lived up to his profession and lacked manners. And you had gotten all of that from your first dinner. He had no qualities that gave you any reason to think differently. 

"Come on, you two!" George's voice beckoned once the final bucket of water (for the water guns, of course) had been placed. 

The both of you hopped off the bench, feeling the dry grass crinkle beneath your feet. All of you had decided that any shoes on the wet grass was a recipe to fall and slip. You pursed your lips as Carmen found George, leaving you finding your stupid teammate. Shifting on your feet, you walked around the guests, eyes darting around. Where on earth was he?  

You blinked when you stumbled into a solid figure, body turning naturally as a pair of hands fell to your waist. "Shit! I'm so sor—" The words immediately died on your tongue as Alex stood in front of you, just leaving a conversation with one of the bridesmaids. You swallowed. "Oh great... it's you," you sarcastically said, giving him a small scowl. You almost wanted to frown at the sight of his bare chest. Was once not enough? What was this torture? 

Alex blinked, feeling you move away from him, leaving his fingers bare and your skin searing. He swallowed at the sight of your floral light orange swimsuit under your thin white coverup, slim fabric cladded to your body, only giving anyone a peek of your midriff, leaving him only to think with his imagination. He quickly looked up before he got caught. Clearing his throat, he raised a brow at you, and spoke, "Ready to win?"  

Surprisingly enough, you had been pushed down to second by Lando and Max who either knew a lot about knots or Alex had simply just failed the both of you miserably. After tying that bowline and cherry stem, he had barely made any movement, stuck in his seat like he was lost in his thoughts.  

"Naturally," you quipped back, turning to look back at your competition. Namely those two drivers. You barely knew them, meeting them for the first time because of this wedding. Knowing of them perhaps was more accurate. But boy, you were going to destroy them.  

And so the chaos began. Because the moment Alex had counted everyone in, balloons were flying and water was splashing. On the grass, on the benches, on the paths... everywhere.  

You couldn't reach your rivals just yet with this many teams still playing. So you were going to have to play around a bit. Your role, as you self-proclaimed, was the shooter. And Alex, your protector. All he really needed to do was keep you and him water balloon free. 

Thirty minutes in, you had taken out three teams in total. Now your target was the wedding couple themselves. You could've sworn you could feel the ground thrum with your laughter as Carmen tried to hide herself behind George. She was sure you had it out for her ever since she had paired you with Alex. Your arm lifted slowly, fingers gently squishing into the water-filled balloon as you aimed it at your best friend.  

"Come on, ___! I'm the bride! I'm your best friend!" She exasperated, still ducking behind her fiancé's back.  

You smiled almost sympathetically, the innate instinct to win seeping through your veins. "Not today, honey." 

A shriek fell from both of your mouths as you hurled the balloon towards her, only finding George’s retaliation speeding towards you. And before you knew it, a tug on your arm pulled you close to Alex's body, leaving Carmen still getting drenched.

You blinked at the warmth of his bare skin against yours, eyes hesitantly flickering up only to find his already on you once again. Your throat dried instantly, feet shifting to pull yourself out of his grasp. "Maybe give me a little warning next time," you mumbled, giving him a small glare. You didn’t want to be this close to him. Not ever. And especially not like... this.  

Alex leaned in, narrowing his eyes on you. "A protector doesn't tell you when they protect," he retorted, casually grabbing another balloon from your hand to hurtle at George. And just like that the wedding couple was out. He turned back to you, barely out of breath. "They just do." 

You swallowed tightly, forcing yourself to move your eyes from his slightly warm gaze. You were sure he was talking about the game. But the way he said it... as though he had some other thought behind those words... it made your stomach churn, and you hated it. You sifted through the remaining guests, only two teams left, spotting Lando and Max pretty easily. Your lips parted in disbelief as they practically annihilated the other team, drowning them with an influx of water.  

"Oh God..." You breathed, flickering your eyes to the sky, praying for any support in your next venture.  

It happened all so fast. The way you both closed in on each other, eyeing each other from afar, shifting on your feet with caution, water guns and balloons equipped. A momentary stalemate. It was like slow motion. Alex had thrown some haughty remarks to his good friends, fuelling them even more. The cheers and shouts of everyone echoed around you, encouraging both parties to finally defeat one another.  

Your eyes scanned both men, trying to study their weaknesses. Call it a little too much effort for a simple 'fun' activity or perhaps the people pleaser in you but you had never really lost in anything in your entire life. And you didn't plan to start now.  

Lando and Max hadn't adopted any sort of plan like you and Alex. If anything, their plan was simple: attack.  

"You take Lando, I take Max?" You quietly queried, giving Alex a small glance. You received his curt nod, probably one of the few things you had ever both agreed on. Seconds later, you were running. Running towards your target and running from the water-filled missiles in the air, dodging them as fast as you could. 

You kept your eyes on the four-time World Champion who had soon recognised he was being marked by you. You had hurled three balloons at him, all easily dodged by him, infuriating you. You wouldn't get anywhere with his vigilance. Nor with the cackles of Alex and Lando who seemed to be enjoying themselves. So you did something you normally never did in the name of winning.  

You pulled a feint.  

Max blinked in surprise when a gasp fell from your lips and your eyes drifted to Lando, momentarily redirecting his attention from you to his friend. And before he knew it, he felt the harshness of water shooting through the air hitting his body. He stood still, frozen in disbelief. He couldn't believe it. "For fuck's sake," he grumbled, giving you a playful glare as Alex took this moment to take Lando out as well, eliciting a groan from the Brit.  

Your head leaned back a little in disbelief, body slowly turning to face Alex. You actually did it. You had won.   

"We won," he chuckled, running a hand through his wet hair, also not really believing the situation. Before he could even really think about his actions, his feet moved across the grass and his arms stretched, wrapping around you instantly while he shook you excitedly. "We're back on top!"  

You blinked, body stilling while your brain stuttered in its train of thought. You could feel the warmth of his skin pour into yours, the stickiness and dampness from wall the sweat and water bleed into your coverup. When in your entire life had you ever been this close to Alex? You couldn’t tell if your stomach churned because you liked this or you hated this. No... you had to hate this. This was wrong. This was Alex out of all people.  

It was as if someone had thrown a bucket of ice-cold water onto you and reality had hit you hard in the face. You mended your brows, idle hands beginning to move. "Oh my God, Alex! Get off! You reek!" You grunted, pushing him off of you while you swallowed nervously and regained your ability to breathe once again.  

You maintained your small glare while he simply laughed, amused by your annoyance. And as you all slowly began the clean-up process, your eyes caught Carmen's lingering stare and the corners of her mouth tugging upwards. You gave her a disgusted look, still discreetly trying to calm your heart.  

Whatever she was thinking, whatever she was suggesting... it was nonsensical.  

Your elevated temperature and heart rate had more to do with running around with water balloons than Alex.  

Yes. That was exactly it.  

You sighed at the feeling of the overly warm water against your muscles as you joined Carmen, George and a few others in the farm's spa, opting to get as much use out of your swimwear as the sun began to sink into the horizons, turning the greys into to faint oranges where the sun chose to hide. 

This was exactly what you needed after that preposterous water balloon fight and some midday marshmallow toasting. To rest in this heat and let your muscles heal while you closed your eyes and listened to the idle conversation in the background.  

But your body seemed to become alert at the familiar British voice that had hopped into the spa minutes after you did. You could feel his eyes on you briefly, even in your dark vision. But you kept yours shut. You didn't want to look at Alex right now. Because if you did, all you would imagine was those arms around you and his voice lingering in your ears, and the heat of his skin and— 

"So, ___. Alex tells me you're a doctor." 

You peeked an eye open, honing in on the voice in front of you. It belonged to Emily, one of George’s closest friends. Another guest you weren’t acquainted with until this camp. Another fellow Desi. And she was sat right next to the person you had been avoiding.  

You smiled politely, nodding in yes to her question. "I am," you simply answered, leaning up a bit when you realised this was sparking an entire conversation rather than being a one-off comment.  

Emily's eyes narrowed slightly. "How is that? Is it everything you ever imagined?" 

"Uh..." You trailed off, a sliver of discomfort beginning to seep through you. You weren't sure what of. Because of the topic or because Alex had been the one to bring up to this... stranger. “It’s… It’s tough but rewarding,” you murmured, keeping it vague. 

You hated this conversation. You always had. You had heard many variations of it since you had gotten into medicine. From family relatives to patients on your placements. How was it? Is it difficult? You must be so smart. God, yo43 hardworking. I could never give my life away like that.  

But there was always one conversation you hated the most. 

"I'm sure your parents are proud," Emily stated, eyes studying you in a familiar way. The way a Desi did to another, judgemental and full of a jealousy that left little room for genuine happiness. You couldn't entirely blame her. That was the byproduct of any Desi household. But God, would it kill to just live life as normally as possible? 

Your jaw tightened. Because there it was. That conversation. The historic and timeless expectations embedded in that emphasis. 'Your parents' as in those Desi parents who often gave their children very little choice in what to do in life. The things they asked for wasn't your happiness. They believed it would come when your job brought your status, power and wealth. ‘Your parents’ because here you stood, yet another Desi child filling every stereotype and expectation out there. The point of comparison at every event and conversation. Just like this one  

You smiled tightly, giving her a curt nod. “I hope so,” you said almost blandly, eyes drifting to the wavering water.  

Alex's brows mended at the staunch expression on your face, not missing the way your eyes met his for a brief second, immediately darting away. In all his years of knowing you, he knew one thing very well. You never voiced any of your troubles (unless they had to do with him). But there was one thing he knew that you didn't—your eyes betrayed you. Because when they were so often filled with light, it was hard not to notice when the darkness entered.  

He could tell from the way you sat that you hated being here. In this spa. And judging Carmen's slightly concerned expression, he was right. His fingers curled as you gently mumbled some excuse to leave, watching you slowly climb out of the spa, grabbing a nearby towel. His body ached to stand up, feet tingling to just move. But he didn’t.  

What would he say?  

Did he have anything to say that you would even listen to? 

Aside from raising your cortisol levels, Alex was in no position to comfort you.  

So he sat still, swallowing as your eyes glazed over Emily who leaned way too close to him, muttering something he didn't care for. His heart clenched lightly at your gaze, corners of his lips frowning as you walked away, back to your cabin, alone. 

It was your last day in the camp. You had managed to get by yesterday by gaining some points in a tedious arts and craft session. Alex had been utterly useless and unusually quiet. George and Carmen, however, had captured many hearts with a cute little portrait of themselves. Although you were pretty sure they had gotten Alexandra's help, another one of the guests you were trying to familiarise yourself with.  

You sighed thankfully. You were happy this was coming to an end. You loved Carmen. You really did. And you had pulled through for her, even if it meant pairing up with Alex. But God, that spa had taken a toll on you. Carmen, being the ever-sweetest woman you knew, had checked up on you. You reassured her you were fine, jus under the weather from the changing temperatures. She wasn't exactly convinced but your pressing tone had told her you didn't want to talk about it anymore.  

Now... Now you had to get through this. Scavenger hunting.  

Obviously, not your idea.  

You tried to keep your frown at bay when you saw Emily walk with Alex to the meeting spot. He hadn’t come back to the cabin that night. Which only really meant one thing.  

You took a deep breath as their laughs echoed in the air. God, what were you doing here, just standing around? You couldn't understand the strange rage that arose in your chest from seeing Alex brush shoulders with the girl. Nor did you want to. It wasn't exactly jealousy. But something that made it difficult to even recognise yourself.  

You kept your hands to yourself, opting to look in any direction as Alex finally came towards you. His eyes swept over you briefly while he shifted on his feet. He pressed his lips when you made no attempt to greet him or insult him. He couldn’t decide which was worse. The tension between you two had been building ever since that night. You had become more closed off and those signs of momentary truce and peace you unknowingly had at the start of the week had begun to waver.  

"So... are you ready to win this thing?" He queried, almost wincing at how unnatural he sounded. And by your raised brow, he could tell you thought the same too.  

You folded your arms, giving him a small look of annoyance. "As long as you're actually helpful this time and not utterly useless," you huffed. 

Alex gaped at you, chest whirring at your remark. There you were. "I am not useless." 

"Says the man who sat there not knowing the difference between azure blue and admiral blue!" You retorted, shaking your head. It was a simple request. Give me the azure blue. You had even added a 'please' at the end. Alex had looked at you like you had grown two brains.  

"They look the same!" He exclaimed, raising his hands before dropping them in defeat. They did! He could pick out the audio between two tracks before differentiating those colours.  

"Even a child could tell the difference! You just have poor taste. I mean those godawful taste cufflinks..." You trailed off, shuddering like a wave of cold had fallen over you.  

"I—" He looked at you baffled, taking a step towards you. "I'm not a child! And those cufflinks were a good idea!" He muttered, keeping his voice low so George wouldn't hear. Last thing he needed was his best friend finding out about how he lost reign over cufflink choices—the best's man's right and duty.  

You rolled your eyes, purposely taking a step back from as your eyes skimmed the area around you. "Can this thing hurry up and start, or do I have continue listening to you for unwarranted minutes? This is like capital punishment!" 

Alex clenched his jaw. Only you were this good at getting under his skin. "Keep talking like that and I swear to God, I'll 'accidentally' lose you in this scavenger hunt. I'll leave you right by the river. And I promise, no one will notice you're gone." 

A half horrified and half miffed expression washed over your voice. Your fingers curled into small fists, haphazardly raising them at him while you glared. "And I swear to God, you're making me want to strangle you." 

He raised a brow, mouth stretching into a cocky grin. "Well, that's not very doctor-like of you," he retorted before adding, "Actually. It’s more kinky instead." 

Your eyes widened. Your cheeks flamed furiously. Your uncurled hands now pushed his chest away, ignoring the firm press against your fingertips. "Seriously!" You huffed, outraged and peeved. "Do you have to be so disgusting? This is a wedding event." 

"Well maybe if you just let me do my idea like I planned then you wouldn't have to listen to me so unwarranted!" 

You gasped. "You're the one who agreed to the camp! And pretty easily, might I add!" 

George stared at you the both of you from afar in disbelief. This was unbelievable. You both were right back to where you started in Monaco, arguing over nothing and getting your blood boiling. Just when he thought Carmen's idea to put you two together was working, you had proven her wrong in just a few days. He didn’t need this. Carmen didn't need this. He had tried being patient. He had tried playing by Carmen's wishes. You two had never seen eye to eye. But he wouldn't have it any longer. 

You hadn't noticed George waltzing over to the both of you. Not until he had grabbed both of your arms and pulled you aside, away from prying eyes and ears. You could instantly tell by the firm expression on his face that nothing good was going to come out of this conversation, quelling any words on the tip of your tongue. Even Alex had fell deadly silent, brown eyes looking dull.  

You could see the muscle in George's jaw twitch as he spoke. "The wedding is in less than a month!" He hissed, barking at the both of you like he was scolding his own two children. “Whatever this—" he pointed between the both of you, “—is… it’s ruining the entire atmosphere. Every decision for the past month has been made by you two arguing constantly. How long do you think it'll take before Carmen loses her patience? This wedding has already been stressful enough as it is and all you two have been doing is adding to it! If you two don't sort out your differences, God help me, I swear you will see a side of me that neither of you will like." 

A regretful frown sprawled across your face, eyes falling to the grass, heavy with weight of George's disappointment. God, you felt miserable. You were an adult. A doctor, for crying out loud! Yet his words were making you feel like you had just been caught stealing candy as a kid. You didn’t mean to make things so... bad. You had no idea you and Alex were creating such a burden on them.  

Alex's lips parted with the intention of apologising. But his best friend had walked off without giving him even a chance. He sighed deeply, rubbing his forehead before flickering his eyes to you. He cleared his throat. The silence between you two was deafening and uncomfortably thick. "I... " God, he didn't even know what to say. "Let's get the hunt over first and," he sucked in a sharp breath, "We should probably talk tonight." 

You shifted on your feet, pursing your lips before solemnly nodding in agreement. "Yeah... that sound's good." 

You and Alex sat across from each other in your cabin, both winners of a winning team. Yet neither of you could muster up a smile to represent those efforts. You rubbed your temple; legs folded on your bed as George's words repeated in your head for the umpteenth time that day. Alex gave you a fleeting glance, sharing your trouble expression.  

His brows furrowed as he thought. How the hell were you supposed to 'sort out your differences?' By having an actual conversation? By talking about why you had these differences in the first place? In this thick silence? 

Alex sighed loudly, flailing onto the mattress, tall stature hanging off the edge. "Alright. I've got nothing." 

You groaned quietly, shaking your head at his futile efforts. Did he have anything going through his brain? Or did he lose those brain cells racing? “We need to think of something. George looked like he was going to kill us or something," you mumbled, brain churning at the mere thought. You didn't particularly have any intention of dying early. Nor by the hands of your best friend's fiancé.  

He leaned up from the bed across you, lips jutting out as he pondered. 'Maybe all the wedding stress got all pent-up and he let it out on us," he shrugged like his suggestion bared any importance at all.  

You blinked at his sentence, the familiar word instantly invoking the conversation you’ve had time and time again with Carmen. Pent-up. Your cheeks instantly burned at the connotations you had both attached to it. All these years Carmen had been talking about putting what you and Alex had in a bedroom. To... as lewd as it sounded… fuck the hate out. Maybe she was right. Maybe all you needed was one night. One night to get rid of any single thought you had ever had about him.  

For the wedding, of course. 

Alex furrowed his brows at your lost expression. He waved a hand across your dazed eyes. “Hello? Are you okay? Why do you look so flushed?”

You averted your eyes to Alex, pulling your lips between your teeth. It wasn't like you were inexperienced or anything. You had your fair share of brief relationships and one-night stands (none of which your parents knew about). You could totally come out of this unscathed.  

But were you really going to suggest this? 

A louder voice in your head screamed, 'Are you really going to risk ruining your best friend's wedding?' 

You took in a deep breath, trying to calm your flaming skin but of course it didn't work. You swallowed nervously, fingers beginning to fidget with one another. "Look I'm about to suggest something... crazy. And out of pocket. And just absolutely insane. But this could really help, well, not ruin the wedding and—" 

“Oh my God, ___! Just spit it out!” He exasperated, not in the mood for your usual rambling as he normally was.  

So you did. The words came tumbling from your lips, faster than your brain could think! 

"We should hook up!" 

Alex quite literally choked on the air, the pressure momentarily crushing his lungs. His eyes fell wide, ears red, and skin hot. He rubbed his face harshly, trying to understand what universe he was currently in. Was this a dream? Had you really just said what he thought you had? "W-What?" He dumbly queried after a minute of processing your words. 

The embarrassment began to creep up your neck. "I, well, it's something that Carmen's been suggesting to me—" 

"Carmen?" He questioned, baffled.  

"—for the past few years. She says we just should, um, well, take our anger into the bedroom. That it’s just pent-up tension." 

Alex fell silent for a moment. "So... what? We fuck and save the wedding?" 

You curled your lip at his obscene wording. "No! Well, yes. But not like that. Look, maybe not exactly now. But maybe sometime next week we meet. You're staying at your parents' place for the wedding, right?" He nodded. "Okay, so maybe you can come to my apartment and well... you know." 

His mind raced as fast as his heart. He couldn’t believe this. You out of all people were suggesting spending one night with him. You, his enemy of almost six years. You who made his blood boil. You who made him take on extra Buddhist practices just so he could calm himself down. You who he occasionally found attractive from time to time.   

"So?" You queried, chewing on your lip with more nervousness than you had at your med school acceptance and your match day. Your throat tightened at the way those brown eyes fell to your lips. They looked so... hungry. And that should've terrified you instead of making your heart thrum. "W-What do you think?" 

Alex breathed in slowly, eyes not moving away from you for even a seccond. Never had he wished he could time travel into the future unlike today. Never had he wished for next week to be now. Never had he imagined he would have to count down the days where he could finally just pull you by the hand and kiss those lips that had been unknowingly taunting him for almost six years.  

His voice came out coarse like he had to swallow the sheer need in his throat. His head tipped lowly, hands clasped tightly together. "Okay," he agreed, unsure whether to smile or frown about the mess he was going to get into. "Let's do it." 

© 𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐘𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑

[justk99]

holyyyy shitttt this fic is so good kudos to u (since this isn't ao3)

[lomlando]

A series that follows you-the assistant who’s spent years surviving Max Verstappen’s impossible demands-and what happens when you quit, forcing the two of you to navigate new applicants and your feelings towards one another.

ongoing!!

⛲️ - popular (500+! notes!) 🪼 - my favorites! 🧿 - MDNI! 18+!

1 | two weeks notice ⛲️🪼

2 | the first one ⛲️

3 | the clumsy one ⛲️

4 | the okay one ⛲️

5 | the know-it-all one 🪼⛲️

6 | the surprise one 🪼⛲️

7 | the invisible one ⛲️

8 | the lazy one

[user5018-deactivated20251012]

[theinternetarchive]

a few great films that are free on the internet archive

in decent quality too!

here is the archive collection of these films so you can favorite on there/save if desired.

links below

black girl (1966) dir. ousmane sembene

the battle of algiers (1966) dir. gillo pontecorvo

paris, texas (1984) dir. wim wenders

desert hearts (1985) dir. donna deitch

harold and maude (1973) dir. hal ashby

los olvidados (1952) dir. luis bunuel

walkabout (1971) dir. nicolas roeg

rope (1948) dir alfred hitchcock

freaks (1932) dir. tod browning

frankenstein (1931) dir. james whale

sunset boulevard (1950) dir billy wilder

fantastic planet (1973) dir. rené laloux

jeanne dielman (1975) dir. chantal akerman

the color of pomegranates (1969) dir. sergei parajanov

all about eve (1950) dir. joseph l. mankiewicz

gilda (1946) dir. charles vidor

the night of the hunter (1950) dir. charles laughton

the invisible man (1931) dir. james whale

COLLECTION of georges méliès shorts

rebecca (1940) dir. alfred hitchcock

brief encounter (1946) dir. david lean

to be or not to be (1942) dir. ernst lubitsch

a place in the sun (1951) dir george stevens

eyes without a face (1960) dir. georges franju

double indeminity (1944) dir. billy wilder

wild strawberries (1957) dir. ingmar bergman

shame (1968) dir. ingmar bergman

through a glass darkly (1961) dir. ingmar bergman

persona (1961) dir. ingmar bergman

winter light (1963) dir. ingmar bergman

the ascent (1977) dir. larisa shepitko

the devil, probably (1977) dir. robert bresson

cleo from 5 to 7 (1962) dir. agnes varda

alien (1979) dir. ridley scott + its sequels

after hours (1985) dir. martin scorsese

halloween (1978) dir. john carpenter

the watermelon woman (1996) dir. cheryl dune

EDIT: part two here + the letterboxd list

edit: part three here

[ultra-slut-club]

[lethal-p3tal]

[ilydead-deactivated20220428]

[orbityvess]

𝜗𝜚 NSFW AUDIO !

Riding your boyfriend as he gets all whiny and desperate to cum ♡

Warnings: P0rn audio.

Note: This may be my fav audio ive done 🤭🤭

[justk99]

that laugh