A/N: Y'all asked, y'all shall receive. Thank you all again for the support; I love writing for every single one of you.
I would like to also personally thank my Brainstorming Buddy/ Editor @strawb3rri-le. the last three or four fics I've posted, including this one, would not have been possible had it not been for you, so I thank you from the literal bottom of my heart for being the Lennon to my McCartney in this writing journey. Here's to many more wonderful stories to come! <3
Summary: You and Paul get intimate after agreeing to be there for one another.
This is also inspired by Bob Seger's We've Got Tonight, so be sure to listen to that for your own listening/ reading pleasure!
WARNINGS: SMUT, please don't interact if you're under the age of 18, I'll call your mom. Fluffy unprotected sex (Wrap it before you Tap it amirite?) ANGST; this fic gets SAD midway through, mentions of cheating/ exes being stupid, but there is fluff in the end which makes it all better. Swearing is a given, maybe a few typos.
This one is rated 18+ or R, so tread with caution ONLY if you're of age please, I cannot stress that enough!!!
"Are you sure about this?"
"Yes. Are you?"
"I really am."
"Then there's nothing to worry about."
Paul was watching you from what little light was flooding through the window of his room. He could have asked you that question a hundred more times; but he just wanted to make sure you were comfortable.
He opened his mouth to inquire yet again, but you stepped towards him, lips connecting with his to ease his worries. You felt his tension melt away slowly, hands drifting down to hold your waist as you placed one hand on his chest, the other resting on his shoulder.
You pulled away slightly to glance at his sweater, and Paul watched you intensely as your hand slid down the fabric painfully slow, your fingers dipping into every clothed muscle on his torso until they were toying with the hem at his hips.
"... This should go," you suggested in a hushed tone, and after a moment of letting the recommendation settle in both of your minds, Paul let go of you, pulling it up and off him with your help, and the sweater fell to the carpet with a soft thud.
When your hand returned to his chest, now bare, you examined just how toned he was. You had no clue someone of Paul's stature could be hiding such a body under simple knit sweaters and turtlenecks; but it was a pleasant surprise.
As your palm drifted around his skin, feeling the light hairs on his chest, his own fingers couldn't help but drag along the uppermost edge of your own pyjama top. His gentle touch left a trail of goosebumps on you, his eyes following his fingers as his hand slowed to a stop above your heart.
"And, perhaps this, as well...?" Paul asked rather innocently, eyes flitting back up to meet your own gaze. You nodded a little, watching as he ran his tongue against his bottom lip. "Lift up."
You raised your arms for him, and felt your top slide up and off you, his fingers grazing your sides gently as he removed it from your body. Paul held it in his hands for a moment, eyes drifting down a little to look at the sight before him. The top fell to the floor, along with his discarded sweater, and you both stared at each other for a moment.
Paul's eyelids lowered and he sighed at you, hands reaching out to hold you again. He cupped you at the base of your ribs, his thumbs drawing nonsensical patterns on the skin under your breasts as he closed the gap between you again. As your lips pressed together, Paul slowly walked you back to the edge of his bed, where you lowered yourself to sit when you felt the mattress against the back of your legs.
He dropped to his knees in front of you, finally pulling away to look at you again. His hands moved up carefully to cup your breasts, and you shut your eyes. He gauged your reaction to his touch, and feeling his thumbs run gently over your nipples made your head drop back. You whined a little, that familiar, yet longing feeling you hadn't experienced in a while was making itself known deep within you.
His hot breath was fanning against your skin, and Paul asked you in the most delicate tone, a simple, yet effective, "May I?" And all you could do was nod to him.
You whined again when Paul's lips made contact with your breast, his left hand kneading the other carefully as his right squeezed your side in affection. You slid your hands up through his hair, and you felt him moan against your left nipple as his other hand rolled your right one between his fingers.
You both had to try your best to keep on the quieter side since it was so late; and no one else should have known what you two were doing. Unfortunately, Paul's... handiwork... wasn't anything to be quiet about.
"Paul," you choked out, tilting your head up a little, and he removed his mouth from your nipple to look you right in the eyes.
"You like that?"
"Yes," you nodded your head rather frantically, spurring him to get right back to work, but switching sides, lips and tongue teasing your right breast as your left now gained the attention of his fingers.
Your knees fell away from one another as you tilted your head back again, breath ragged as Paul worked his magic. You felt his hand slide down your waist to drag along the band on your pyjama bottoms, but he was in no rush to tell you to take them off.
His hand actually continued to slide down to your thigh, and he squeezed you gently as you felt his tongue swirl around your nipple, and you rolled your hips against his body on reflex, choking out another whine as you tugged at his hair a little harder. He smiled with a pleasant hum before pulling his mouth away from your body.
You huffed at the cool air hitting your wet breasts, but he placed another warm kiss on your lips, one of his hands holding the back of your neck, and your discomfort faded away almost instantly. His other hand was still on your thigh, but slowly trailing back up to the waistband on your pyjama bottoms.
Paul deepened the kiss just for a moment as his finger hooked into the band. When you both separated again, he rested his forehead against yours, heavy eyes opening to look at you.
"Isn't it about time these go, too?" There was something so carnal about his words, yet they still held an abundant amount of respect for you, and your comfort; and, dear God, it turned you on so badly.
You didn't even respond to his question. You just removed your hands from his hair so you could support yourself from the mattress from your elbows, raising your hips off the bed a little so he could pull the rest of the clothes off your body. You watched as Paul did just that, your bottoms relinquished to the pile of clothes building off to the side, your legs not so spread apart anymore.
It looked as if he were in a trance, hands on your thighs as he examined your nude body in fascination. You watched him watch you, still propped up on your elbows, and you felt almost embarrassed under his gaze until he mumbled, fingers kneading into the tense muscles on your legs, "perfect. Absolutely perfect."
You blushed as he tenderly spread your legs open, unhurriedly, and he groaned at the sight of just how wet you were for him.
"Oh, Darling..."
Your face felt so hot, especially when you watched him lick those damned lips of his again.
"I want to taste you, you look so damn sweet." His thumbs continued to massage between your thighs, and you could feel yourself getting even wetter. You felt like you needed to return the favour.
"I... Did you want me to--"
"No," Paul interrupted lightly with a simple shake of his head. It was like he read your mind. "Keep moaning, keep pulling my hair. Those beautiful noises you're making have me feeling the best kind of way right now."
Every word he said contributed to enhancing the pit of arousal you were feeling within, and you were almost speechless. No one had ever spoken to you that way before, not even your ex, the one with whom you felt you shared your most intimate moments with. But after what had already happened in that room, between you and Paul, comparing them was out of the question.
You could feel his breath against your heat, your blood pumping loud in your ears.
"Paul, please..." you whispered, but he just stared at you, fingers still rubbing your thighs.
"Please what, Lovely?" You knew he was doing this on purpose, especially when he rested his head down onto your left leg to give you those alluring puppy-dog eyes.
"I can't give you what you what you want if you don't tell me what it is you need."
Your mouth formed a few shapes without you making a sound. You sighed, breath shaky as you gathered enough composure to groan, "I need your mouth. Please."
"Where?" Paul asked innocently. You were secretly loving the way he was teasing you, but on the other hand, you were beginning to feel desperate for his touch. His left hand reached up towards you, and a single finger rested against the skin between your breasts.
"Here?" He questioned softly, dark eyes watching you as you shook your head. He dragged his finger so painfully slow down your body, stopping at your abdomen to ask again.
"What about here?"
"Please," you were begging him at this point, but Paul continued to take his time, drawing his finger lower, and lower, until he was just above your folds.
"Just little lower," you pleaded to him desperately, and when you finally felt him pull his hand away to hold your thighs apart, you knew he was done playing games with you.
He gave you one more sultry look before dropping his head between your legs, tongue gently lapping away at your arousal, and you cried out his name. He opened his eyes to watch you react from his place as he continued rolling his tongue against you at an even pace.
You lowered your back to the bed, legs instinctively trying to squeeze together at the feeling of Paul's sweet mouth where you needed him most, but he continued to hold a firm grip on your thighs to keep them in place.
His beard scratched at your legs a little, but in the best kind of way. His nose bumped against your clit and your hands found their way back into his mess of locks again, tugging and driving him closer to you. He moaned against you, the vibrations shooting a chill up through your body.
He pulled away a little, mouth shining with your arousal, and his eyelashes lowered over his eyes as he mumbled, "Oh, my dear, you taste better than I ever dreamed you would."
Your heart was pounding against your ribcage, the idea of such a beautiful man dreaming about being between your legs and tasting you, and wanting this had you feeling some kind of way.
"Please, don't stop," you whined gently, and he responded with a quiet laugh.
"Oh, my sweet girl, I'm nowhere near being done with you yet. Don't you worry."
A mix of relief and lust rushed your emotions, and Paul's eyes continued to watch you as he let go of your right leg, hand coming up to his face before putting his middle finger in his mouth.
You stared in anticipation as he pulled his saliva-covered finger out from between his lips before plunging it right into you, and you cried out again, tears of pleasure welling in your eyes as you pushed your hips up against his hand.
It was Paul's turn to stare, and you felt him curl his finger inside of you before adding another and repeating the beckoning motion again, free hand pressing your hip down to keep you from moving so much.
"You okay, Lovely?" He asked in a low tone, watching as your body twitched and writhed with everything he did.
"Yes, keep going, Paulie," you whimpered, encouraging his hand to quicken before he dipped back down, lips wrapping around your nub, and all you could see were stars. Your hips rocked up again, and Paul released your waist a little to let you squirm around.
"Paulie, I'm gonna..." you stumbled over your words as you felt your orgasm nearing quickly, your hands balled into tight fists in his hair still. One more finger curl was all he had to do before you released all over them with a cry. You mumbled nonsensical speech as Paul pulled back a little and admired his achievement, your arousal dripping down his hand as he let you ride it out.
"That's it, do whatever makes you feel good, my angel." His praise was addicting, your eyes rolled back as you revelled in this state of euphoria. It wasn't long before your hips fell back onto the bed, and you sighed out when Paul removed his fingers from you.
You took a moment to fixate your gaze on him. His pupils were blown, staring at you in the face with his lips parted. You relieved some of the tightness in your fists so you weren't gripping his hair so hard, mumbling a whispered apology for being so harsh with that.
Paul responded to you, not with words, but by stalking up your body slowly, silently, as a predator would to its prey; and he pressed a kiss to your mouth, tongue pushing its way past your teeth so you could taste yourself.
You groaned, sitting up slowly as to not break the kiss. You reached down towards the belt wrapped around his hips, undoing it blindly and pulling it from the loops of his jeans. You needed him, and he was strained so tightly in those trousers, you knew it couldn't have been comfortable for him. You parted from the kiss, but keeping the distance close between you two.
"Are you positive you don't want me going down on you?" Your question seemed as innocent as if could have been, and Paul just smiled a little with another head shake.
"Baby girl, as long as you're getting off, so am I."
You hummed at his response. You hoped he wouldn't quit with the pet names. Your eyes glanced down to the jeans you were in the middle of taking care of, and Paul was already popping the button off them.
His eyes trailed back up to your face before he put his palm innocently over your heart, pushing you down onto your back again.
"Just lean back and relax, my sweet thing. You just stay there and look pretty while I take care of you. Make you feel good."
You watched him from your lying position as he moved to stand by the foot of the bed, dropping his jeans to the floor after wiping his hands off on them before he turned back to you. His stare didn't seem all that possessive and dark anymore like it had been during foreplay.
He was looking at you with a type of sincerity that brought warmth to your soul.
You were under a spell, unable to disengage from his stare, even when he climbed back onto the bed, and spread your legs apart again. He briefly looked away from you to position his cock properly, and you watched the concentration on his face morph into mild enjoyment as he circled the head around your pussy teasingly.
Your eyebrows furrowed as your legs crossed around his waist, and he looked up at you through his eyelashes. Those perfect pink lips of his parted, and he whispered to you with one more squeeze to your thigh, "are you ready?"
Your hands reached out for him, fingers clasping together at the back of his neck as you nodded your head. "I need you, Paul, Please."
"Don't worry, my Love. I'll give you exactly what you need."
And with an unhurried push of his hips, he was inside of you, and the most beautiful sound escaped his lips, in limbo between a moan and a whine, and the look on his face was blissful, eyes shut and mouth hanging open at the feeling of you.
You let out a deep, concentrated, pleasing sigh. It hadn't been forever since you last had sex, but it was definitely long enough. The stretch from his member filled you up in the greatest way; and Paul took it real slow for you.
"Fuck, you're so wet. So tight," he mumbled under his breath, exhaling deeply with every roll of his hips. His eyes drifted back open to watch your face, lowering his brow and whispering to you, "my Love, you promise to tell me if I'm ever hurting you?"
Your face flushed red at his words, and you nodded a little.
"Yes, Paulie. Absolutely." Your quiet response was uttered though little moans, a hint of emotion laced in your voice.
You were partial to that specific nickname. You felt you maybe liked it too much, but there was no denying that responding to it felt so right, and Paul, you felt, seemed to think regarding you that way was okay, as well. It made you feel like you were actually wanted, and you'd be lying if you didn't say you hadn't felt that way in a very long time.
Paul leaned down, arms on either side of your head as he kissed your lips, and you kissed back, fingers unclasping so you could once again run your nails along his scalp and through his hair. He groaned at the attention, rocking a little deeper now, and you pulled away from the kiss to whine at Paul's actions.
You arched your back as his movements sped up, and you could hear his breaths quickening as he settled on a steady pace. One of his hands slid in under your back to hold you closer, and he dropped his head into the cook of your neck.
He started placing kisses along the side of your throat, and then on your collarbone. "You have no idea... fuck... how long I've waited for you." He mumbled those words against your skin, and your conscience shot right awake from its besotted trance as you hyper-focussed on his words.
"I have been dreaming about this for so many nights... for so many years..."
You couldn't believe what you were hearing. Sure, you'd known Paul for a while, but never in your life did you think he was even remotely attracted, to you let alone actively fantasizing about the very moment you were both experiencing.
Your chest burned, intensely aware that as soon as this night was over, this feeling of togetherness, intimacy, and affection was going to die out like a candle flame, and you were going to be alone all over again. Your eyes were glassy with tears as you tried to draw Paul closer, opting to remove your fingers from his hair to wrap your arms around his body.
You began to push your hips back against Paul's, recieving a pleased hum from him. Your hands rubbed tenderly over the hot skin on his back as he continued to pour his heart out to you, breaking yours more with every word that left his mouth.
"My sweet Love; to think I've wanted you for so long... and now I have you. I'm the luckiest fucking guy in the world."
"Paul," you whimpered, head resting up against his shoulder as tears streamed down your cheeks from your eyes. You weren't entirely sure what came over you, but before you could even think, you were whispering to him, "please don't leave me."
"Never. My Love, I'll always be right here." His response was so effortless, and quick, and your ears seemed to be ringing again. He put his other hand at the back of your head, pulling you in closer as your bodies continued to rock together.
You could feel another orgasm nearing, and Paul must have known from the sounds coming from your mouth. He pulled his arm out from under your back to reach between the both of you, thumb toying with your clit as you cried out again, hips jerking harder and quicker against him, his own pace stuttering as he could feel the walls of your heat contracting against him.
"I-- I'm gonna..." you choked, and Paul rubbed between your legs even faster.
"Come undone, my Love," he encouraged weakly as he tried his best to keep going for you. You dropped your head back against the pillows and you cried out as another orgasm rushed you, more tears falling down your cheeks, as you returned to that feeling of ecstasy you were in only minutes before.
Paul leaned up, forehead and chest shining with sweat as he continued to pound into you, long hair matted against his skin as his pace fell apart, shuttering as he pulled out of you and came all over your stomach.
His head fell back, eyes falling shut as he called out your name, cum leaking out of him and all over you, but you were far from caring. His breaths were heavy as he gasped for air, and after a moment of allowing the both of you to come down from the high, he slumped back onto his arms, head rolling to the side so he could open his eyes and look at the mess he made of you.
"Oh, Love, I'm sorry about all that. Let me just..." Paul took another deep breath before rolling himself off the bed, wandering on wobbly legs towards the connected bathroom. You could hear the faucet running for a moment as you stared directly up at the ceiling, beginning to wake your body up with a little wiggle your toes.
That was, without any doubt, the best sex you'd had in your life. And as Paul returned to you, two damp cloths in-hand, you figured the intimacy was over; that you'd clean yourself up and be kicked out of the room.
But when he took a seat at the foot of the bed again, and he reached up to your tummy to wipe his ejaculation off your skin, you found yourself falling into another daze.
The cloth was warm, and Paul took his time sliding it over you to clean you up, not a single word coming from his mouth. When he felt he cleaned your stomach well enough, he reached for the other cloth, wiping the sweat gingerly off your neck, and chest.
Every move was calculated, and even when he moved to wipe up the mess between your legs, he was careful of how sensitive you were, free hand caressing your thigh while he remained largely focused on cleaning you up.
You felt the assault of tears burning your eyes again as you watched Paul tend to you, and when he looked up to your face and realized your expression, his own fell to one of worry.
"... you okay?"
You nodded your head weakly, that was until you felt him squeeze your leg again. Your bottom lip began to tremble, and your hands came up to your face as you sobbed into your palms.
"Hey, hey, Darling, what's the matter?"
Paul even sounded worried, climbing up the mattress to be closer to you. You curled up into a little ball on your side, and Paul put his hand on your arm, rubbing it up and down to comfort you.
"I... I..." you didn't want to tell Paul necessarily what you were feeling, because then that would have meant telling him you enjoyed him a little too much. More than you thought was maybe appropriate.
"Please talk to me, tell me what I can do to make this all better," he begged, and you took a while to respond to him.
"Hold me," you whimpered, and Paul, without another second passing, swept you up in his arms, cradling you as you sat in his naked lap. His right arm circled your back as his left coaxed your head onto his shoulder before he began stroking your hair.
Your arms lazily circled around him as you cried into his shoulder, and Paul pressed his lips into a line, tears of his own threatening to fall.
"Did hurt you? Did I do something wrong, Love?"
"Please don't think that," you choked back. "You did everything so right. And that's the problem."
Paul's eyebrows, which were knit together in frustration and confusion, began to relax at the realization of your words. You both knew you were going to have to elaborate a little more at one point, but Paul didn't pry. He just continued to stroke your hair and rock you, soothing you of your negative emotions.
You pulled your head away from the crook of his neck eventually, and you looked Paul in his sweet, doe eyes. "You're so kind. Too kind," you sniffled. "Half of me wants to actually listen to the words you said, but it hurts too much. After what he did to me..."
You thought back to your ex for a moment. That slimy, cheating bastard.
"I can't even pretend to believe someone would love me like that again, because he stripped me of all that trust."
Paul seemed a little hurt at your words, taking a moment to decide what he was going to say next.
"... You don't have to believe it now, but I know everything I said to you was the truth."
You felt your bottom lip quiver again, and he pulled his hand from the back of your head to cup your face.
"Everything. Even when you asked me not to leave. I can't be certain you were being serious about that, but I want you to know that I'm serious. I won't leave you if you don't want me to."
You couldn't help but tilt your head into his touch as your red eyes drifted closed. He placed a kiss on your temple, mumbling into your skin, "please believe me when I say I did have some doubts about all of this. But having you here, in my arms right now... I have never felt so sure about anything in my life. I'm never going to let anything happen to you ever again."
"But how can I be so sure?" Your question was barely above a whisper, and Paul held you tighter, and closer.
"You've occupied a special place in my heart for a long while, now. If anything were to try and hurt you, and I'm there to protect you, I'd be doing everything in my power to keep you safe."
You could feel Paul turn your head towards him, and you opened your eyes.
"I know our last relationships didn't end well. I know we're still hurting from the past... But you make me so happy. Like I have something worth living for, and can think about the future without wanting to look back at the pain I'm wanting to desperately leave behind."
You had more emotions stirring in your heart again, but they were ones that made you feel fuzzy inside.
"... Would it be so wrong of me to tell you I feel the same way about you?" You asked him carefully. You couldn't believe how poetic he could be just talking to you. He had all the right words to say at any given time.
"Absolutely not," he replied easily, one of the corners of his mouth twitching at the relief that the feeling was, in fact, mutual.
You reached up to cup his face, thumb drifting against his beard as he leaned in to kiss your mouth. And you let him. It wasn't to initiate anything, only to project affection unto you.
He pulled away after a moment, breathing a quiet "Please, Darling, stay with me, tonight."
You smiled sadly at his request, but you shook your head a little. "What about Rich? He's gonna find out everything." That was another nail in the coffin, Paul decided, he needed to pry out.
"Well, he's just going to have to deal with the fact that I need you," he responded matter-of-factly, and your heart ached at that.
"I don't think you have any idea just how long I've restrained myself from talking to you, let alone flirt or try anything with you. I used to care so much about what Ringo thought, but all that matters now is you."
Paul removed his hand from your cheek to caress yours holding his own face. He pulled your hand off so he could kiss your fingertips, smiling just a little to try and encourage one on your own face.
"It's just us now. No one else. Okay, my Love?"
All you could seem to do was nod your head, but that appeared to be enough for him. He gave you one more peck and a little hand squeeze before sighing. "Let's splash some water on your face and get us ready for bed, hm? I don't know about you, but the last ten minutes have been an absolute workout for me."
You blushed a little when Paul sent a wink your way, but you shifted off his lap and stood up, as did he. He took your hand in his again and guided you to the bathroom, and as you wet your face with the water under the faucet, he tossed the damp face cloths in the laundry bin next to the toilet.
His attention was back on you, and he tucked your hair back behind your ear, placing a kiss under your earlobe. You smiled a little at the gesture as you watched him through the mirror, turning the faucet off and dabbing your face dry with the towel on the counter. Paul settled another kiss at the crook of your neck, and then one on your shoulder.
"You feel any better?" He asked lowly, his words vibrating against your skin. You held back a chuckle by biting your bottom lip, setting the towel back down next to the sink.
"A little, yeah."
"As long as the answer isn't no, I can live with that." He smiled at your reflection, arms wrapping around your body as he kissed your shoulder one more time. You placed your hands overtop his, which were planted on your hips.
"C'mon, now," he whispered, one of his hands unraveling rom your body to drift to the small of your back and leading you back out into the bedroom. He left you briefly to pop the window open a little, and you climbed in under the covers, him following suit just a few seconds after.
You rolled to your side to look at Paul, and he did the same, propping up on his elbow and dropping his head in his hand, other arm reaching out so he could cup your face again. He looked so happy, having you so close to him. It was such a contrast to how you found him earlier that night, and the difference made you feel rather glad you were still awake at such a late hour.
"Thank you for everything tonight," he offered gently. "The drinks we shared, the dancing, the intimacy, for letting me confess everything to you, for staying... thank you for being you."
"Aww, why can't I say anything that romantic and poetic to you?" You whined a little, and Paul laughed gently, his hand drifting down to squeeze your arm lovingly.
"Y'know, there will be so much time in the future for you to woo me."
"If I can learn to be as quick on my feet as you, perhaps," you argued back playfully, shifting forward a little so you could curl up into Paul's chest. His hand dropped to your spine so he could pull you in a little closer, thumb rubbing gently against your skin.
"You'll get there, Lovely. Sweet dreams." You hummed a little as your eyes fell shut, the feeling of Paul's thumb caressing you, and the sound of the trees rustling in the wind outside, as well as the rise and fall of Paul's chest had you lulling to sleep in no time. He, on the other hand, remained awake for a long while, holding you close to him as if it were his only purpose in life.
He wasn't worried about anything anymore; not even about whether Ringo would find out about the both of you before either of you planned... Despite leaving the evidence of two alcohol glasses still sitting pretty on the coffee table in the den for him to find first thing that next morning.
Paul eventually fell asleep as well, arms enveloping you from the cool night air seeping in from the window leading outside. His heart was feeling fuller than it ever had before, and it was all because of you.
______________________________________
A/A/N: I hope this lived up to your expectations, I haven't written anything NSFW in YEARS, but I'm pretty happy with how it turned out. Don't forget to like and comment, I love reading the comments on these :')
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Hello everyone! It's been a minute or two since I've logged on and WOW! I feel like a whippersnapper because I'm a little rusty on how to use this app, but the amount of positive reviews I've been getting on my fics, even though I've neglected to update them for years is just AMAZING to me. Thank you all for your respect, and your positive feedback. I'm actually wanting to return to writing, so look out soon for some pieces. There are lots of people who ask for tags in my posts, so I will try my very best to get you all in.
Again, thank you all for your amazing words; your requests revived me, and even though I have many series fics to return to, I think I'm gonna do a few one shots here and there so I don't get bored.
Very excited to be returning!
Freddie: So we’re still squabbling over that fact, that’s what he’s trying to say Roger: rawr
(x)
A/N: I just checked chapter 1 and I literally put it up over a year ago. Shit. I just wrote a part 2, and finally got ahold of a computer to post it. I hope you's enjoy it. my last chapter had like... 20 likes altogether, so hopefully this chapter will draw some readers in.
Summary: Paul makes it to the Princeton campus where he not only reunites with his cousin Vick, but he meets a fellow stoner named Max. From there, the boys indulge in some Ivy League Hospitality.
WARNINGS: Drinking, swearing, smoking psychoactive substances (Cannabis), just dumb college guys doing dumb college shit. also, it's probably got mistakes bc I suck at revising
This is just a statement clearing up that none of these characters are mine except for Vick. Everyone else belongs to those who were involved in and/or collaborated with Julie Taymor in making the Across The Universe film (2007)
I'll rate this one a T seeing as the substance use isn't THAT bad.
"Vick Hoffner?"
"Try across the way, man. I think there's a Vick of sorts there."
Paul simply nodded at the stranger before turning on his heel and making a beeline to the next apartment, his hands fiddling with his useless book of contacts.
What was the point of giving me your number if you won't even pick up the phone?
He sighed, and rubbed his eyes tiredly with the palm of his hand. He'd been hitchhiking for two days just to get to the Princeton Campus, and then a few hours going through the closest rented apartments to locate him.
This was apartment number 9.
And it was nearing one AM.
Paul rapped weakly at the door, silently concluding that this would be the last place to check before finding somewhere to sleep until the next morning.
The door swung open, and Paul was face-to-face with this college kid who seemed to be about his age. He had unkempt blonde hair that curled around his ears, patchy stubble, and big blue eyes hazed over with the red assault of cannabis in his system.
Despite this, and the nearly empty beer bottle in his hand, the guy looked like he was keeping it together pretty well.
Paul cleared his throat, and raised an eyebrow. "... Vick Hoffner?"
"Nah, man. He's out at the moment gettin' drinks," the guy paused, and looked at Paul for a moment.
"Hey, hold on, you're not... Vick's cousin, are you?"
"Would it be an issue?" Paul asked sarcastically, to which the other guy responded after a laugh, "Nah. I just can't wait for him to get back and find out you got the better looks."
Paul just rolled his eyes, a smile on his lips. "Probably don't matter. He's the brains n' so is me brother. 'S what really matters; though I take pride in this thing." Paul pointed teasingly at his face.
The other guy smiled, pulling two cigarettes from behind his ear. He offered one to Paul, and he claimed the other. He lit the both of their cigs, and they each took a long drag after Paul scanned the apartment hallway for any angry tenants who happened to be against smoking indoors.
"So... does Vick's "pretty boy" cousin have a name?"
Paul nodded like the fact that he had a name was astounding information, but he smiled genuinely before bringing the cigarette back to his lips. "It's Paul."
"Max," The blond shoved his hand out, and the boys shook hands firmly. Max eyed Paul again."Where's that accent from, Paul?"
"Same place as me," Paul answered as he shoved his free hand in his pocket, blowing out smoke a moment after. "Liverpool."
"But why come to America?" Max gestured Paul into the apartment as he spoke, closing the door behind them. "Kill someone? Were you on the run from the cops? FBI?"
"'Sounds like you'd be one to know 'bout all of that." The boys took a seat on the couch in the centre of the room as their cigarettes slowly burned away as they chatted.
"Hey, hey, I've barely ever been in trouble with the cops, but I have pissed off every professor in Princeton, and have broken several campus windows."
" 'nd... you're proud of it?"
"I'm an adrenaline junkie, what can I say? Smashed nearly forty five windows and despite being Princeton's number one vandalidm suspect, I'm still not expelled. Y'know why?" Paul leaned in a little, enough to catch the dank scent of weed, and Max lowered his voice. "... because they can never prove it's me."
" 'nd why is that?"
The answer to Paul's question burst right through the apartment door.
"There's three more of us, and it could be any of them!" One of which, Paul could surprisingly recognize.
"Vick. Long time no see," Paul rose to his feet, and Vick, who'd set a six-pack of beer on the coffee table between them, greeted his cousin with a friendly hug and some "how are you"s.
Despite being an intelligent young man, Paul noticed that Vick behaved a little less like how he used to: polite, conservative, and proper. It was suspected that his behaviour changed because his newfound freedom at Uni allowed him to experience and access things that he would have been otherwise restricted from when he was younger.
Booze was one of them.
Dope was another.
In fact, he wordlessly cracked open a beer for Paul, and handed it to him like he'd asked for a drink in the first place.
Paul wasn't a huge drinker. It was never a vice of his, or anything like that either. He got shitfaced every once in a while for fun.
But when he brought that aluminum can up to his lips, Paul would never have guessed that it would have led to the night it did.
Five minutes after Vick and his buddies returned, Max brought out the roach Paul suspected he was sucking on before he got there.
With enthusiastic cheers from around the room, Max lit the sucker up, took a nice drag from the hot remainders of the joint, and passed it on to Paul.
Paul looked at the roach, almost as if he was confused. No one had asked him if he'd ever smoked before, but Max and the others yelled hurriedly over top of one another, instructing for Paul to suck in quickly and hold the smoke in for as long as he could.
It resulted in a coughing fit, and encouraging pats on the back from the other guys. Vick ended up taking the roach next, and Max reached out across the table.
"Have another one of these, my friend," he slid over another beer after cracking it open just moments before, despite the fact that Paul wasn't quite finished his first drink.
"Y'know, the more you cough, the higher you get? Pretty fucking sick. Like a win-win, man. You don't cough: You're high. You cough: You're super high."
As time went on, and Paul nursed his second drink more responsibly than the first one, things, ironically, started making less and less sense to him.
At one point, he was talking to the guy sitting across from him, and he just stopped talking for a whole ten seconds before turning to Max and asking "what the fuck was I just talking about?"
"Who fucking knows." The blond's shoulders shook as he tried suppressing his laughs, but eventually Paul just burst out into laughs and uncontrollable tears.
And everyone followed suit.
He had absolutely no idea how he got there, or how long he'd been there for, but sitting before Paul were now two empty Tankards. A waitress just set down another to him, and collected the table's empty glasses.
They were in a bar.
Max sat beside Paul as he watched Vick spectate the other two guys play pool.
For the life of him, Paul couldn't remember those guys' names, despite knowing he was told multiple times in the last few hours. To be fair, being drunk and stoned is a perfectly reasonable explanation as to how one forgets another's name. He supposed it didn't exactly matter, anyways.
"So, you got any hot sisters abroad I should know about?" Paul gave Max a funny look but it may have been because it took so long for Paul's brain to register what had been asked.
"... No. Do you?"
"I've got two younger sisters; one's eight, and the older one's a little on the uglier side," though he didn't say it, Max's little smile indicated to Paul that he was joking about the last comment.
Paul and Max watched the boys play pool a little longer until the eight ball was pocketed.
"Wanna play?" Paul's head snapped to his left, and he nodded at Max's offer.
The other guys traded off, and Vick continued spectating. Max made the first break, and Paul watched as the cue ball rolled right into one of the pockets. Well, it seemed to have been only him to notice, because Max's eyes were instead trained on a brunette woman passing the two.
She looked over her shoulder to wink at Max, and rather than gouging his reaction, she simply walked off and took a seat alone in the corner of the bar.
"Do you believe in love at first sight, McCartney?"
"Well, I'm sure that it 'appens all the time. Never 'appened to me, personally."
"You just need to find the right one, my friend.." Max trailed off again, eyes still locked on the bird in the corner. He was slowly inching from the table and toward her. Max eventually just set the cue on the table and completely abandoned their game to talk to this girl, who flashed him a flirty smile with her bright white teeth and painted lips.
Paul watched Max amusedly, taking a swig from his beer and memorizing the moves Max was putting on his lady friend, who was clearly enjoying his company.
Maybe Paul wanted to get better at approaching certain women. He knew how to flirt, and be charming. It's not like he'd never had girlfriends. He'd had his fair share of girls in his teenage years, and he had Molly now back in Liverpool.
But Paul, at this moment, in his crossfaded brain, realized that he didn't want to attract the women he had been anymore. Just from her visual appearance, and how she was reacting to Max's charming flirts, Paul could sense an airiness to her personality. She was always smiling, inching closer, initiating physical contact by nudging his hand with her own, the list goes on.
Hell, even on her happiest days, Molly would be reluctant to kiss Paul, but he'd excuse her behaviour because she was just a regularly bitchy person who hated public displays of affection.
Or hardly any affection at all, it seemed.
Needless to say, Max returned to the table five minutes later with a phone number and a big red lipstick stain on his cheek. So to celebrate, the gang decided to go golfing.
"Here she is, Window Way," Max introduced Paul to the roof of their apartment building. The other boys started giggling at the name "Window Way". Each guy had their own club, Max held a bag of golf balls, and Vick carried another six pack.
Max set his things down and took in the crisp night air as Vick opened yet another beer for each of the boys. Max took a can for him, and one for Paul, and proceeded to show his new buddy just why he called it "Window Way".
"A Driver will send a ball..." Max pointed his arm straight out in front of him, his finger pointing right towards the windows of the Princeton Campus library.
"...Straight towards the school," Paul finished. He turned to look at Max. "You guys do this every night?"
"Paul, I do this all day. I barely go to class anymore."
"Hey, Max! You tee first!" One of the nameless guys called out to them. Max brandished the widest of grins before rushing to grab his club, a ball, and a green tee from his pocket. "Hey, Paulie, wanna help me out by holding my tee up?"
"Well, how'd I do that without gettin' hit?"
The other boys started laughing again, and Paul was genuinely confused until he found himself lying on his back seconds later, and the bottom of the tee between his lips, which only got heavier when Max set the ball down onto it.
If he were sober in this moment, Paul would not have been this comfortable with someone swinging a golf club full force towards his head and then trust their judgement regardless of their in intoxicity that they'd hit their target...
It was a good thing Max had been doing this for a long time, because wow, did that ball ever fly.
Paul watched in stoned disbelief as the ball soared far off into the distance and over the roof of the library. And while no one had seen it, they certainly heard the shatter from the other side of the building.
And that's when all five boys ran away from administration retired back to their room to light up a new joint Vick had also brought home as a surprise. They all sat around and lazily talked to one another about how crazy Max's shot was, and while some of them were falling in and out of sleep, Max insisted they all stay up to watch the sky change colour from the courtyard.
Paul didn't know how he stayed up any longer than he did, but he pulled through like a trooper, and they all watched the sky change as they lay down in the fallen leaves. But as soon as they all came back to their room for a final time, Paul dragged himself in exhaustion to the living room chair to sit, but he just slipped out of it onto the floor, and that's when his body decided to turn off on its own.
The other guys dropped to the ground or onto the furniture like dead flies, and within ten seconds of the door closing, the room was quiet.
And it stayed like that for nearly ten hours.
Paul woke up that evening with a raging headache and multiple trips to the bathroom to be sick, but now three things were certain for him: He definitely had one hell of a time, he definitely wanted to hang out with Max a lot more, and that evening Paul definitely got by with a little help from his new friends.
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A/A/N: alrighty, if this chapter doesn't do too too bad, I'll see about continuing this story. I've got chapter 3 pretty much done as well, I'm just in the midst of revising it. If you want more, by all means, PLEASE let me know!
“'When my hand is on your grease gun.’ That’s very subtle, isn’t it?”
“It’s a metaphor, Brian!”
McBeardy Fic dropping tomorrow, BE THERE OR BE SQUARE
Edit: IT'S HERE AND YOU CAN READ IT NOW
If this aint me
Credits to getmemercury on instagram.
A/N: Hello! Yes, I'm alive, and yes, I know I haven't posted anything original on this blog in over 3 years, but that's gonna change!
Thank you all for sticking around so long, my life did a 180 about a month or so ago and now I can get back to one of the things I love doing most: giving you all some juicy fanfiction to enjoy!
I've had an influx of enthusiastic followers and readers on my last oneshot ask for more writing, and I will be delivering! I have upcoming Paul and George oneshots underway; but first, I think it's time we show John a little love!
P.S. we'll probably consider this an AU fic since John went to private school, and he is going to school with the reader in this one. Sorry for the lack of authenticity in advance!
Summary: Your friend, John, invites you to the first Fair of the year with the intentions of evolving some spontaneous behaviour within you. You find just the thing there to prove to John just how daring and fun you could be-- and then things go sideways.
WARNINGS: This has been sitting in my notes FOREVER so I wouldn't be surprised if there were typos.
Also, there is a heteronormative behaviour in this fic because of the time it was set in, but I want to disclaim that LOVE IS LOVE and I, in no way, support heteronormative/ anti LGBTQ+ behaviour. Love who you want to love; just be happy doing so<3
Also Also, she is a LONG one like the other oneshot, so I advise you read this when you've got some time on your hands!
Swearing is almost a certainty at this point, but no really mature themes, so a T rating is probably enough for this one.
It was a hot Friday afternoon, at the very end of the school year; and there were hundreds of telltale signs:
The teacher was well over his curriculum and he sat at his desk reading a book in silence, student-made work was no longer strewn about on the walls, the classroom was humid even with everyone fanning themselves and each other; and the students...
You could tell the students were just dying to get home for the summer.
There were five minutes left on the clock, and you sat at your desk packing your things away. You spent the last hour doodling, but you wanted to be ready to take off as soon as the bell sounded.
As you zipped your bag up, you saw a little flash of white in your peripheral, and when you glanced back at the surface of your desk, you noticed a folded piece of paper-- a note!
You looked around briefly, but no one indicated to you where to pass it, so it had to have been for you.
And if the note was for you, then there was only one person it could have been from.
You unraveled the little piece of paper, revealing the question the paper possessed.
"Fair? Tonight? -yours truly"
That evening in particular, the local fair was going to erect itself in the biggest park in town, and everyone at school was going to be there. What better way to blow off steam at the end of a long year of hard work?
You shook your head at his pathetic complimentary close, your eyes rolling to the back of your head so far they almost didn't come back.
The bell rang, and before you could even consider doing anything else with the note, everyone took off out the door, as did you, knowing fully well "yours truly" was going to be waiting for you at your locker.
As you rounded the corner to the hallway your locker was in, you finally caught glimpse of him. He was leaning against it with his arms crossed, one leg over the other as his eyes wandered the other students for your face; and when your eyes locked, his expressionless mouth couldn't help but tighten upwards.
Perhaps his smile was out of kindness, but it was most likely because he was a jokester, and quite frankly couldn't get enough of teasing you.
And now his target was spotted.
He opened his mouth to speak, but you spoke first. "You know how much I hate how you sign these off, right?"
You presented the note in hand adjacent to your head as your face displayed a disapproving cringe, cheeks pink in mild humiliation.
"John, I only ever get notes written from you, so the flowery signoff is unnecessary," you put the note down, pointing at him with a frown.
"That note-passing was so open! You know if the teacher ever caught something like that, he'd make me read it out loud to the class, surely you know I'd die on the spot, and then my ghost will haunt you until you died too!"
His smile only grew wider at your words, almost as if he'd been betting with himself what your response to all of this was going to be.
"Also, you're not even in my last class," you rambled on, "so how you managed to have it smuggled in beats me."
"Oh, come on, y/n, you know you'd love all the attention you'd get out of something like that," he gestured to the paper, and you shook your head before crumpling it into a ball in your hand and tossing it at his head, to which it bounced off, and then was immediately trampled on as other students hurried down the hallway.
The both of you weren't strangers; you frequented playdates with John as children, and then you went to school together, so you basically watched each other grow up. John, for as long as you'd known him, usually displayed confident and sometimes mischievous behaviour towards others that typically you'd find unappealing for a man to display.
"People thinking I'm with you? That is not the kind of attention I'm after."
Not that you ever found John appealing, in any way. He was your buddy; you tolerated his behaviour. That being said, over the years he started lightening up on the harsher jokes with you, opting for more of a platonic flirt more than anything else, finding it was a less harmless way to poke fun at you.
"And the Fair, John? Really?"
The boy shrugged his hands up to defend his suggestion. "What's so bad about the Fair?!"
You rolled your combination into your locker, and he shifted out of the way so you could get into it better once you got it unlocked.
"Nothing's wrong with going to the Fair. Going to the Fair with you on the other hand..." you tisked at him before reaching into your locker to retrieve what binders and books you had left in there. John never used his locker, so he was just waiting on you.
You tossed your bag up over your shoulder once you shoved your books inside, and before John could interject with an if, and, or but, you put your hand up to silence him.
"You left me lost in that fun house--"
"But that was literally ten ago, y/n!"
"Doesn't mean I'm over it!"
You took the lead towards the exit doors, and John followed suit, searching for the right words to convince you to go with him.
"If you go with me tonight, I'll try to win you a stuffed animal,"
"We're doing bribery now, are we?" You smirked, reaching out for the doors and pushing through until both you and John were outside, standing under the sun. It was nice for once for the sun to have been out from behind the clouds.
"Look, you're just always hanging out with your girlies, and I've got my mates, but they're all going to the fair with other people tonight," John started as you both headed to the sidewalk and began to make your way to your place.
"We never really do spontaneous things anymore, just you and I. And, I don't know, growing up a little might have had something to do with it... but it doesn't mean I'm not still your friend, though. I wanna do things with you."
You took John's words into consideration. One thing you really liked about John was that he was passionate, and poetic. You'd seen this reflected in some of his writing before, and he often discussed with you how much he liked music, and how he dreamed that his poems could very well one day soon become songs...
Now, it's not like he spoke the way he wrote, but his thoughts translated to words so quickly and effortlessly, and he, as a speaker, really made you think twice about what he said because he sounded so sure when he spoke.
"... I suppose we have been distant in terms of having fun. I know I won't be able to win an argument with you that studying every other night together is considered 'fun', even though I think otherwise."
You and John both rounded left down the next street, which happened to be where you lived; the benefits of living a block away from school. Your house was coming up, meaning this conversation had to end soon.
"Y/n, of the two of us, it's you who needs to be more spontaneous. Just say yes and come with me tonight."
At this point, you and John had slowed to a stop and were standing at the end of the driveway, facing one another as you pondered whether tonight was going to be spent inside reading and listening to music, or stimulated by exciting noises and lights while you stuffed your face with Carnival delicacies and treats.
"... If I say yes, will I still get my stuffed animal?" You already knew the response as the smile returned to John's face.
You and John made it to the Fair for 6:30, and it was already full of life; children on the rides screaming their heads off, friends competing in mini games like Ring Toss and Balloon Darts, and the smell of popcorn and candy floss swirled through the air.
As you looked around at all of the rides available, you barely noticed John going out of his way to buy tickets for both you and him for the night. When he returned to you, he tried to see if you were looking at a particular ride. "Anything catching your eye?"
"I feel like they have different stuff this year. Like, that one must be new," you pointed to a group a different rides that you'd never seen before. "Let's look around, and if anything looks interesting enough, I say we go for it."
John bought you enough tickets for you both to ride everything anyways, but you two had all night, and nowhere to be the next day, so you agreed to start at one end of the fair, and work your way through it.
The first ride that caught the attention of either one of yous were the Tea Cups.
"Remember the one time I threw up on you on that ride?" You asked John with a little smile, to which he replied without a beat,
"And then I threw up on you and caused a chain reaction with all of the other kids on the ride?"
You both laughed and cringed at the rather unpleasant memory before John kindly took your elbow and pulled you towards the ride gently, knowing full well that your matured stomachs would be able to handle it now, and your moving feet indicated you weren't objecting the idea of getting on.
"We gotta start the fun somewhere, Love. After you," John presented four tickets to the ride operator, and you chose your favourite colour cup to climb into.
"If you just don't spin the cup, we'll make it out of here safe," you warned John with a joking wagging finger, and he saluted to you respectfully as he closed the hatch to the cup and took a seat next to you.
"Don't worry, we won't meet the same fate as last," he grabbed the wheel at the centre of the cup as if to indicate he was going to steady it the whole time, and you were excited to see how well he'd do; and even more excited to make fun of him when he did a bad job.
The ride shot to life, and as the cups began dancing around in different patterns, you watched in amusement as John tried his very hardest to keep the cup from spinning; his attention sometimes turning to you, and he watched as your hair whipped around your smiling face as the ride threw the both of you around.
Your beating heart was building up adrenaline as the ride spun on. You suddenly threw your hands overtop of John's, and his eyes shot up to you, hands going slack on the wheel, and you took that moment to whip the cup around as hard as you could, the world becoming a blur around you, and your energy within escaping in a bound of squeals and giggles.
John couldn't help but join in, your laughter was contagious, and the excitement he felt seeing you having fun made his heart ache a little, but in a good way.
The ride was over much sooner than the either of you would have liked, the both of you combing your fingers through your hair to appear more presentable as your tea cup came to a complete stop. John opened the door for you, and you both continued on on wobbly legs to see what else the Fair had to offer.
After a few carnival games and slow, paced rides, you finally grab John by the wrist after he suggests doing something you'd rather do later so he didn't take off too far.
"I think we should do the Ferris Wheel, John," You dropped his wrist and pointed to the ride in the distance behind him, his eyes following your gaze to it.
"Come along, then," it was now his turn to grab your wrist, and lead you along.
That was one unspoken rule you had with John: he never held your hand. You weren't sure why, and you didn't really care-- you didn't want to hold his hand. You just always settled on the idea John was really committed to the joke about not wanting to get Cooties; and honestly, you respected his devotion to the joke.
Your wait in line to ride the Ferris Wheel was a short one, and your chest filled with excitement yet again as you and John took your seats and the ride operator strapped you in.
As the ride filled with other people, you and John slowly made your way to the very top of the ride, allowing yourselves to take in the view of the Fair that seemed to stretch forever.
"We really should have done this first so we could have seen everything all at once," you said, peering down at some of the unrecognizable stands and rides surrounding you both. One in particular caught your eye, and it was in the shape of a space ship from those cartoons depicting the future.
"We definitely have to check that one out," you pointed to it, and John nodded his head in agreement.
"It seems to be right by the games and food. We'll grab some candy while we're in the area."
"And...?"
"And I'll win you that prize, yeah yeah yeah, I know what I promised."
The Ferris Wheel then took off, and you and John savoured the ride, watching the sun slowly fall towards the horizon, the most beautiful colours painted across the sky.
"I'm glad you convince me to come with you, Johnny. I'm having loads of fun. Thank you," you didn't shout, just loud enough that John could hear, and he smiled at you.
"Like I said, if anyone needs to be more spontaneous, it's you. If I can fix that in any way, I'll take the chance," you smiled back at his words, turning your full attention back to the sky as the ride began to slow, knowing this moment, like everything else, was going to come to an end.
You and John were on a mission to get over to the space ship, passing by a bunch of other rides and games you pointed to and indicated aloud along the way that they were on your To-Do list that evening.
As you approached what you two initially thought was a ride, you discovered that the rocket was actually just a still building. There were two lines entering the ship, and there were a few people in each line.
One of the Fair Staff was walking by, and John stopped him before he went too far. "Hey, what's this one all about?"
"Cosmic Hearts is a matchmaking activity we just added! You're matched with someone of your preference in the other line anonymously, and you both enter the rocket. You spend two minutes in the dark together, and then you leave together when the doors open, revealing who you've matched with. You can also think of it as a two-way Kissing Booth."
The staff member looked at the both of you before adding on slowly, "established couples usually don't use that one..."
"Oh, you must be mistaken, we're not--" John couldn't even correct the guy before he was walking away again. You looked from John, back to the metal space ship. The guys standing in line weren't bad looking at all.
"... I wouldn't mind spending two minutes in the dark with any of them," you thought aloud, noticing that each person in line had at least one unique physical attractive quality.
"Yeah, well I'd be worried they'd be touchy with you. In the dark and all," John huffed, shaking his head at the picture he painted himself, and you bursted out laughing.
"What, so you're my chaperone now? Going in there is knowing full well you're going to have hands all over you. Maybe I want to be squeezed up a little, Johnny, is there any harm in that?"
"I mean," John's face flushed a rosy pink before shutting his eyes and shaking his head again, as if that was going to stop his imagination from doing what an imagination does.
"That's.. not something I want to picture."
"Well look, you don't have to anymore," you took John's arm and pulled him towards one of the game stalls close by. "But you do have to try to win me that stuffed bear. We all know that's what I came for in the first place."
The distraction you set up was a good one. The game you brought John to was pretty much just Balloon Darts but forest- themed. You watched as John tried his very best to aim his darts, but he just couldn't quite seem to make the mark for that bear.
The fifth round came and went, and John was still slapping more tickets down. You knew it didn't help that John was legally blind and flat-out refused to wear his glasses, but you weren't about to start an argument with him over that.
After John used up the rest of his darts from that round, he looked over at you with frustration and he sighed. "Look, I might just need a quick break," John took the tickets from inside his pocket, and placed them in your hand.
"I'm running to the loo, it's just on the other side of the park, just hang out here, play a round... or four... and see if you're a better shot than me,"
"I'm always a better shot than you, Lenny," you called to him as he disappeared in the crowd, waving back to you as if to acknowledge your cocky response.
You went to turn back to the game, but something stopped you. You took a quick glance over your shoulder, and eyed the lineup at the rocket ship. You couldn't believe how good looking the people in the lineup were, you could only imagine what the mystery people in the second line looked like.
And then John's words from earlier became apparent in your head, statement ringing in your ears.
"Y/n, of the two of us, it's you who needs to be more spontaneous."
You furrowed your brow as you thought about this decision you were about to make. The closest lineup to you wasn't long at all, and before you knew it, your feet were pretty much walking themselves up to the line.
There was a girl about your age doing the matching for your line, and she met your gaze after letting the next person in. She grinned, and approached you.
"Hello! Welcome to Cosmic Hearts, do you know how we work?"
"Sort of... I just don't know how the matches are made."
"Oh, it's no worries, we do that all for you! We only really take the girl's request for preference types, and then we match accordingly from the other line. Is there something in particular you want about your match? Looks? Behaviour?"
You raised an interested eyebrow, skeptical about how accurate your preferences would be in terms of the match.
That being said, it was just an elaborate kissing booth, it's not like you were using the stall to find the love of your life-- no, you were looking to prove to John that you could be daring, that you weren't as boring as he maybe thought.
"Look, girl-to-girl here, I trust your judgement in choosing me a good-looking guy..." your voice tapered off for a moment before you added, " I just might want someone who doesn't seem too overconfident."
The Match Girl smiled wide, and gestured toward the door to the spaceship with her hand, pushing it open to let you in. You were the next girl in line, and the boys in the lineup watched as you took a deep breath and moved in.
As you walked toward the threshold of the dark room, Match Girl filled you in on the instructions.
"The other side of the curtain will be your 'contact area', only walk through when you hear the other door close; that'll mean he's inside as well. You'll have two minutes alone together, at which point we will open the central door and let you both out"
Your heart began to quicken. It didn't really occur to you until now that you were about to make out with a complete stranger in the dark, and leave that spaceship hand-in-hand just to prove to John wrong about you lacking in as much fun as he thought.
But this impulsive plan of yours also excited you a lot.
Maybe by the end of the night, you'd be leaving with a boyfriend, and telling John that you told him so.
You took your final step into the rocket, and your heart pounded against your ribcage as it all went dark.
After about thirty seconds of silence, you heard some shuffling from the other side of the curtain, and then a simple, "your two minutes start now," from the staff.
Your heart was beating so loud, you could hear the blood flowing in your ears. Your remaining senses enhanced, provided your lack of vision, and you followed the wall to the right with your hand, past the curtain, and you could feel an immediate change in temperature in the room.
You were much warmer now, hyper-aware of the fact that you were sharing body-heat with whoever the staff matched you with. You had to relay it in your head a few times what this actually meant for you. It meant that the stranger in this room with you was going to get to know you quite intimately in a pretty short amount of time.
This made you think a moment or two about the other party in this situation: The Stranger. What was his story? Was he dared to jump in line by his buddies to get some action? Maybe his story is that he just wanted to have his first kiss to get it just done and over with, or maybe he, like yourself, was just doing it for the Hell of it.
Whatever the reason, you felt you owed it to them to give them a decent snogging.
Your hand continued to drift along the wall before your thumb bumped into another hand. You gasped quietly, knowing you were close to the stranger, just not exactly sure of where abouts until now.
You lifted your hand off the wall at the same time as him, and as to not lose you, he made sure to reach out and take your hand in his gently, seeming more like an offer than a demand, which you took, admittedly rather nervously, especially when his other hand reached out to grab the other hand at your side.
Something was just so thrilling picturing so many renditions of handsome young men in your head, mixing and matching what he looked like based on what you could feel. His hands were larger than yours, and his fingers were calloused.
He played guitar, or bass, or something, and you knew this because John played, and you remember him telling you once that the strings were really hard on the hands, and you could just tell by looking at his hands that he wasn't joking.
You just thought the feeling was such a contrast against your own hands, which were soft and untouched, and you were sure with the way this guy was running his thumbs over your palms, and the pads of your fingers, he was admiring the contrast as well.
You almost wanted to say something to him about it, but he had you stuck in a trance, especially when he let your hands go for a moment to gently feel up your arms for your shoulders. You tried your best not to be too reactive, but you couldn't help the goosebumps trailing after his touch.
His hands moved up, and you felt his fingertips graze the crooks of your neck and then up under your jaw.
Neither of you spoke, this moment too intimate for the silence to break. You and he breathed so shallow, it was hard to even believe there was someone in the room with you.
But there was, and his fingers traced your jawline slowly, one hand deviating up to cradle the back of your head while the other gently traced around your chin.
Your lips parted, your own hands reaching out for his waist so you had some idea of where he was in front of you. Your fingers found his jacket, and as you tightened your hands around the leather, you felt him move a little closer as his thumb finally found its way to your bottom lip.
You felt his breath on your face, and you held your own, squeezing your eyes shut when you realized they had been wide open the whole time.
And finally, after what seemed like too long, his thumb disappeared and he replaced it with his own lips.
The kiss was soft, and not pushy at all, but you were tense like a rock under his touch from how nervous you actually were, and you just kept still.
He pulled away for a moment, and you could feel your face burning. That was not the kind of note you were going to leave on. Whoever this was, he had clearly gotten your attention, and you needed to return the favour.
Your one hand moved up his chest, over his collarbone and around his neck to pull him back down towards you. Your lips came together again, and you felt him melt into your embrace after an unsure second, hands dropping down to snake around your waist and pull you flush against him.
You sighed against his mouth, and he pushed his tongue past your lips, all of your past worries melting away. You were in heaven, so drunk on intimacy that you forgot what you were even doing in there in the first place. You tried pulling him even closer by the jacket, to which he responded by slowly backing you against the wall, one of his hands dropping to your hip, and the other returning to the back of your head like before.
Your hand behind his neck slipped up into his hair, and he moaned gently when you tightened your fingers up in the strands and pulled a little.
"Yes, Baby..." the words tumbled from his mouth lowly, and you felt a chill shoot right up your spine; you immediately froze up, lips separating as the realization hit you. You felt like you were going to faint.
"John?!" Your question was short, but clear, and you felt your suspicions were all too correct when you felt all of his muscles tense up as well at the sound of your voice.
"...Y/n?!" His voice cracked, body frozen in place like a statue. As were you, grip still tight in his hair and on his jacket.
You were speechless-- you couldn't believe the one you just spent the last minute and a half or so with-- the one with whom you spent the most intimate experience in your entire life-- was John.
The gentle touching, the embracing of the heavy silence, the patient behaviour, the soft kissing, the respect of your boundaries, and the feeling of wanting more-- it was all John.
This was the first time in your life you had ever experienced John in a situation where he didn't have the words he needed to speak at his disposal.
But to be fair, neither did you. What would anyone do in a situation like this?
It became all the more real for the both of you a moment later when the doors opened up, the lights around the rocket ship lighting John's face for you to see, and your face for him. You both sported embarrassing shades of red on your cheeks, and John's mouth just hung open in perpetual shock as he took in the fact that it was you.
After a second, you both came back down to earth, and your hands came zipping off each other so fast, John scratching his head nervously and giving you space from the wall, and you folding your arms over your chest and gripping your biceps tightly with your fingers.
You couldn't even look John in the eye, nor could he with you, let alone speak. You walked out the door, John at your side. The Match Girl waited by the bottom of the ramp, grinning ear-to-ear. If only she'd known.
"Pretty good-looking, huh?" She nudged to you with a wink, and you could feel your face grow hotter as you glanced over to John. You made brief eye-contact, and you cast your eyes straight to the ground when it happened.
You were thinking things about John you never would have before had it not been for that stupid snog box.
"Yes," was all you could say, nodding for the most part and squeaking out a soft thank you to her before you turned on your heel, and beelined straight for the women's room, rushing out to John that you were running to the loo without looking back at him.
You were too focused on finding some cold water to splash in your face, and a quiet space to figure out what to do in this situation; the lights and sounds had your head just spinning, and it was too difficult to concentrate.
The women's room was quiet enough, and when you felt you'd splashed enough water in your face, you went and sat in one of the stalls for a while to break down the situation that just happened, and what you were going to do to fix it.
John was your friend. There was no way you were going to let something like this drive a wedge between you, especially if you just had to explain yourselves. You had your reasons going in there, as did he.
You were just hoping this could be something you could both look back on in the future and laugh.
You took a few sobering deep breaths before leaving the women's room. You rounded the corner, not quite sure where to begin looking for John, but you found you didn't have to go far when a rather familiar set of fingers took hold of your own as soon as you stopped.
You glanced over your shoulder and there he was. He'd been waiting for you the whole time.
And now he was holding your hand.
That's new.
"... Can we talk?" you spoke simultaneously, and you both smiled a little. John still couldn't seem to hold your gaze for too long without needing to tear his eyes away and resort to looking at his shoes, yet he still held a firm grip on your hand.
You'd never seen him like this before. It was sobering to see him without so much confidence.
"Where did you wanna talk? Nowhere's really private here."
"... Did you just wanna get outta here?" As soon as the words left his mouth, your shoulders lowered in relief. You both definitely had enough excitement for the night, and when you nodded your head sheepishly, John gave your hand a little squeeze, gestured you to come with him with his head, and you both headed for the Fair exit.
Your stroll down the town streets were quiet. Nothing was said between you two for the first little while, your strides were slow, your destination was unknown, and your hands were still clasped together. You took in the night air, for the sun had dropped below the horizon while you were in the spaceship, and the temperatures were lower.
You weren't too sure yet how John felt about all of that night's events so far, and what he thought of you. Clearly, based on the fact that his hand was still in yours, some opinion of his had changed.
Was he comfortable holding your hand now knowing it was you who shared such an intimate moment with him? Or was he maybe wanting to break off this friendship with you all because of tonight, and hand-holding was the only way he could think to comfort you?
At one point, John's fingers unraveled from yours, and you both slowed to a stop. He shrugged off his jacket and wordlessly draped it over your shoulders before you pushed your arms up into the sleeves. John tried looking you in the eye again, and he swallowed nervously, face going red yet again.
"John, we need to talk about what happened."
"I know."
You took his hand this time, and guided him to the curb, sitting down together. Your fingers left his, and you both planted your hands at the curb at your sides.
There was silence for a moment as the memories of what happened back at the Fair resurfaced in your minds, what you were both feeling for each other, physically and emotionally, in your literal moments of blissful ignorance...
"Okay. I'm just going to put this out there right now. John, I had absolutely no idea that they matched me with you, or that you were even in line, for that matter." You sighed before continuing on, feeling the creep of warmth washing over your face yet again.
"I jumped in line impulsively when you left because I figured if you came back and you saw me leaving the rocket with a guy, I could prove to you tonight that I can be just as spontaneous and daring and fun as you."
You could see the gears turning in John's head when you finished saying your part, and after a second of putting the pieces together, his eyes widened, and then this wide smile spread right across his face, and, to your utter relief, he started laughing.
And it sounded so different compared to all of the other times he laughed around you. You couldn't quite place exactly what was different this time, but you found it to be more melodic than usual; more genuine. It was like music to your ears.
"I uh, I jumped in line for kind of the same reason." You raised a confused eyebrow, so John elaborated a little more, smile faltering a little as he cleared things up.
"Let me explain; If you saw me leaving the rocket with a girl, I was hoping I could convince you to do something tonight a little out of your comfort zone, like I did with that."
There was your Pièce De Résistance: John's reason for being in there all along was to teach you to live a little. And you were simply in there to live.
"Not that I wanted to see you specifically go through with the spaceship and getting felt up the wrong way, per se, but I just..."
John's words trailed off, and you could tell he was struggling to find words again. So, he decided to take this conversation in another direction.
"Okay, look, y/n, I don't want you to be under the impression that I think you're no fun. It's just not true. I adore you. There's just something about seeing you at the peak of excitement that makes me feel warm inside, like a child. I see this in moments you doubt yourself, but you still take that chance and you come out successful in the end, shining with confidence. I wanted to see you tonight with that same glow. And I would have if I hadn't have made fun in the first place that you were such a bore, so I'm sorry."
John dropped his head down after he finished speaking, and you looked at him for a moment, blinking once before reaching out to rub his back.
"Johnny, there is nothing to be sorry about." He turned his gaze to look at you, and you took some long pauses between your sentences. John was patient, eyes watching your face, and hanging onto every word you said.
"Of all the people I could have ended up with in that rocket tonight, I don't think you have any idea just how grateful I am that it was you in there with me, and not some stranger."
You didn't think you could keep it inside forever just what you thought about John's kissing, but you didn't think you'd give up fifteen minutes after the situation, either.
"John, I've kissed boys before, that's no secret between us; but what is is that I've never kissed a boy the way I kissed you tonight, and the attention you were giving back to me, I thought I nearly fell for you in there, and I had no clue it was even you," you laughed a little, the words feeling funny in your mouth, especially when they were for John's ears, only. Those words elicited red faces from the both of you.
"... I never thought I'd ever be nervous looking you in the eye, but to be quite honest, all that comes to mind when I see your face right now is the bubbling of excitement in my chest, and the feel of my legs going wobbly. God, John, would I be crazy to say I want you to kiss me like that all over again?"
You figured if you didn't throw the opportunity out there, you just might lose the chance to experience what you felt again, even if it meant just one last time in your life. But when John remained silent for longer than you hoped, your confidence began to falter. Perhaps John wasn't so comfortable with you anymore.
"... Would I be crazy?" You asked again, this time just above a whisper. John was the kind of person you expected to laugh something like this off. Perhaps he'd tease you for a moment, but ultimately tell you it was no big deal before gently rejecting you.
Instead, his silence indicated something much different. His eyes darted to your lips for a moment, a hand reaching up to hold the back of your head gently as he glanced up into your eyes.
"Love, if you think you're crazy for thinking that, then what I'm thinking must make me completely mad."
Your heart pounded against your ribcage, and John decided not to waste any more time in reconnecting your lips.
At first it was a little strange, his mouth on yours, but it wasn't in any way unpleasant. You found yourself, before long, snaking your arms around John's shoulders as you pulled him ever closer, your chests now flush as he tilted his head to the side to deepen the kiss. You hummed at the contact, but John had to pull away soon after to catch a breath, but he kept your chests flush so he could feel your heartbeat.
The contrast of kissing him knowing full well who he was still didn't change the respect in his movements, and the gentleness of his kisses.
When your eyes met again, you couldn't help but smile nervously at him, biting down on your lip as you noticed his cheeks glowed pink.
"Wow," you sighed.
"I'll say," he responded, one corner of his mouth twitching up into a smirk as the pad of his thumb drew invisible patterns from your cheekbone down your jaw.
That's when your smile began to fall slowly, and John noticed this as he was going to dive in for another kiss.
"What's the matter, Love?"
"... I think I like this too much. I think I like you too much," you said bluntly. The more you and John indulged in what you both physically wanted, the more you realized what you were putting on the line.
"... And is that a problem?" John asked you gently, and you raised your eyebrow, pulling away a little more from the embrace.
"It's a problem because this puts our friendship at risk, John. Every time our lips touch, the harder it is to look at you platonically."
"Then don't look at me platonically anymore," His suggestion was so effortless as you felt his other hand reach up to play with your hair.
"... I never expected tonight to go the way it did. But y/n, the more I think about a situation where it was anyone but me in that rocket with you, the more jealous I'm becoming... The more grateful I am that it was me, too."
John took another moment to bask in the silence before clearing his throat, and looking you right in the eyes.
"My eyes are wider than they've ever been before, and my mind is so clear. Why don't we try dating?" He suggested after a moment of deciding whether to ask in the first place.
"Dating?!" You paused. "John, if anything were to happen to what we have..."
"I know you're scared, y/n. So am I. But... I also believe this can be the beginning of something really great."
John let the hand in your hair drop to his shoulder where one of your hands rested. He gave your fingers a squeeze before he raised your hand to his lips to kiss your knuckles.
"We already kind of go on dates, and now that kissing and hand holding is on the list of things we're comfortable with, we might as well just put a label on it."
John paused for a moment. "It's not like we have to scream it from the rooftops unless you wanted to. But... after tonight, it would be a treat to be able to walk around with my arm 'round your waist and proudly announce to the world that you're mine."
That comment of his made you bite back a toothy grin, but your red face really emphasized how his words made you feel. You were expecting a teasing jab from John, but, surprisingly, nothing came. Just hopeful eyes awaiting your response.
"If you're so confident we'll flourish romantically... then I'm with you, Johnny. We'll give it a go. But under one condition!"
John looked at you expectantly.
"You win me that damned stuffed animal tomorrow night, Lenny."
Now it was John's turn to grin, his arms curling around your body and pulling you into a warm embrace as he mumbled "deal" into your ear.
You were once again surrounded by leather, the crisp night air, the single dim beam of light from the streetlamp, and the faintest scent of whatever John's body wash was.
But most of all, you we're surrounded by young love.
You finally supposed that by the end of the night, you did end up leaving with a boyfriend, and telling John that you told him so.
You just had no clue you could kill two birds with one stone the way you had.
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A/A/N: I really hope you guys enjoyed this! I've had it in the works for LITERALLY four years now, and I am just SO glad it can be out in the world now.
@culturefiendtrashqueen
@cowgorls
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