alice's slice of life

which is part of why he was so grateful to yankumi for everything – especially attempting to set kurosaki on the right path. uchiyama missed the friend he used to drag shin around with.

now that they could hang out (without attempting to kill each other) again, he found himself looking forward to every opportunity to see his friends. so on a sunny wednesday he reaches for his phone and sneaks a text to kurosaki in the middle of class.

ucchi yo, wanna hang today?

his phone buzzes in his pocket a short while later.

kuro i wish. promised to keep another idiot company today. though u and shin are free to tag along, if u want. ucchi i have nothing better to do anyway so i might, dk about shin tho. i’ll lyk kuro ok. pay attention in class nerd

he was about to type a snarky reply when yankumi called on him and he realized he was fucked.

“shin, please,” he begged, dragging each syllable on as long as possible to truly convey how desperate he was. he did want to hang out with kurosaki, but he’d rather have someone he can also talk to, especially since he doesn’t know who the mystery “idiot” was.

the nonchalant boy merely shrugged at his theatrics and continued walking. what haruhiko failed to realize is that, no matter how nonchalant shin was acting, he was following right behind him to the location kurosaki told him to meet. basically, shin was enjoying his desperation and begging purely for the love of the game.

“please i don’t know who else will be there and i don’t wanna be a–”

“we’re here.”

“what–?”

“hey,” a third voice cuts in, one he recognizes as kuro’s, “what’s up? didn’t think you’d also show up, shin.”

they caught up on everything that’s happened since they last saw each other (a terribly long 3 days) while they waited for kurosaki’s mystery friend, who he explained would be a bit late.

then suddenly something rammed into the blonde full speed, knocking his sunglasses sideways and making all his chains jangle like an underground metal band. before any of them could properly react, the unstoppable force spoke up, “yuji! you son of a bitch, i’ve been waving at you this whole time and you didn’t even spare a glance at me!”

one hit to his ribs, a kick to his shin, and a whack over his head and instead of fighting or blocking, kurosaki yuji took the beating without a word. he only raised his hand to fix his glasses. he mumbled something under his breath, and the expression of the unstoppable force in the form of a girl around their age changed to incredulous.

“sorry? sorry?! do you know how embarrassing that was?! you’re such an ass– oh. hi.”

the unstoppable force finally noticed the two boys standing by and observing and momentarily paused the beating of her, seemingly rather close, friend. uchiyama haruhiko has never been more confused in his life.

finally not feeling violent hands on himself, kurosaki returned to his previous relaxed stance and looked at his friends. “about time you noticed them, idiot. [name], this is ucchi and shin, my good friends. ucchi, shin, [name], my … something, i gu– stop hitting me you fuck!”

“don’t refer to me as a “something” you piece of shit!” you whisper yelled at the failed ken doll before turning back to his friends with a slight smile, “i’m his first ever friend, from when he was still cute and played in the sandbox. nice to meet you.”

there was a silent protest from kurosaki about your choice of words but he found himself silenced at the sideways glance you sent his way. now sawada shin was also confused. not that it would show on his face, though.

“anyway, it’s almost 3, we gotta go, c’mon,” you said, dragging kurosaki along by his chains like a dog on a leash.

“what the hell?”

“i know about as much as you do.”

despite their confusion, sawada and uchiyama followed closely behind you and kurosaki, listening in to your conversation, occasionally throwing in a comment of their own, too. soon enough your small group arrived at a nail salon, and you beamed.

“come on in, come on in, they have a couch for company. i won’t be long! though, you can also just hang around the area, if you so prefer. up to you!” sawada and uchiyama glanced at kurosaki, who instead of leaving followed you inside, and so the 3 boys headed for the rather comfortable couch in the corner while you sat in the artist's chair, already excitedly chatting about one thing or another. after they settled into their seats, uchiyama spared one more glance at you, waving one hand around while the artist worked on the other one, clearly passionate about whatever it is you were saying. he took his time to observe more details about you now that you couldn’t see him – your hairstyle and the difference between your natural color and the dye you had, your rather extravagantly fashionable outfit, and your chunky shoes. not only were you extremely stylish and pretty, uchiyama also realized you were exactly his type.

“so, kuro, wanna tell us who your friend is?”

the blond dragged a hand down his face after removing his sunglasses, already dreading this conversation. 

“that’s [name]. same age as us. i ate sand at the playground when we were 5 and she thought i was gonna choke so she started hitting my back and crying and she’s been annoying me ever since. i cannot get rid of her for the life of me. well, i did get rid of her recently,” he sighs, eyes locked on you giggling about something the nail artist said, and had uchiyama not known any better he’d assume kuro looked remorseful, “but i realized she’s my best friend. she’s always been there when others left, and i owe her for that. we haven’t spoken in a while. i have your teacher to thank for the fact that we’re here today. and that i have to pay for her nails now.”

shin let a small smile show at that, patting his friend on the back in sympathy.

“so, you guys are just friends, then?”

2 pairs of eyes shot to uchiyama. shins eyebrows gradually rose in amusement, while kuro just blinked slowly.

“.. yes. why?”

the bleach-blond shrugged, faking nonchalance, “just wondering. you seemed pretty close for her to be beating your ass like that.”

“oh, that wasn’t her beating my ass. that was her being nice.”

after kurosaki (begrudgingly) paid for your nails, off you went to wander around town. this time, shin walked with kuro while you walked with uchiyama. you found him very cute, he was exactly your type – tall, respectful, strong, stylish, funny, and he was quite pretty. he was very entertaining to talk to, which kept you so distracted you didn’t even realize you somehow ended up at the arcade. kuro and shin went off somewhere, and uchiyama stayed with you. you agreed on playing some 2p games for now, then you’d hit the claw machines later.

an hour passed in good fun and you were out of breath from laughing to tears when you spotted kuro and shin approaching you. uchiyama lost on the claw machine again.

“you need to stop before you go totally broke. move, allow the master to teach you.”

you pushed the bleached blond aside, cracking your knuckles before you inserted a coin and started up the machine again. you aimed for your plush, moved the claw a bit, and after a pause for dramatic effect, sent the claw down. it grasped the plush just well enough for it to not fall in those 2 seconds it takes to deliver, and you cheered. with a grin, you handed the plush to uchiyama, “here, that’s how it’s done.”

the faint pink tint to his cheeks may have just been a trick of the light, but with the snickers sounding from behind you, it probably wasn’t.

your quartet set out on your way home, laughing and joking along the way, until some punks blocked your way on a particularly empty street. listening to them talk to kuro and shin like that set your gaze into a glare, and without much thought, you removed your purse from your shoulder, instead holding it in your hand to be able to rid yourself of it quicker, if necessary.

when one of the punks turned to stare at you, uchiyama stepped in front to cover you behind him. it was a very sweet and thoughtful gesture, but he really didn’t have to – you could fight just as well as they could. not that he knew that.

“alright, let’s make a deal, then. give us the girl and we can call it quits.”

“excuse m–?”

before you could even finish your offended question, uchiyama was at their throats along with kuro, until a whole fight broke out. you wanted to jump in, too, but sawada held you back, acting as your bodyguard instead of rushing in head first with his friends. he got punched in the nose and stumbled away, and in that tiny opening you made the split-second decision to protect him instead until the probable brainshake passes. you went to return the punch to the guy who hit sawada when yuji’s yelling stopped you, “[name] if you dare to fuck up the nails i just paid for i’m going to kill you, not just hand you over!”

you reeled your hand back and instead swerved to kick the guy in the jaw with your chunky platform boots, all while holding your purse, protecting your nails and sawada.

“[name] one, ugly high school boy zero!”

“is this really the time to be making fun of his looks?!” shin said from next to you, dodging a kick to his ribs and returning it with an uppercut.

“i could’ve made fun of everything else about him, it was generous of me to only go for one point!” you shrugged, overjoyed at your own benevolence. you kicked another boy with a rather unfortunate haircut away, wincing, “damn, was your barber blind? revoke their license.”

uchiyama took a moment to admire your fighting skills as well as you having enough time and chill to be dissing your opponent, before yanking the guy he was fighting by his shirt and tripping him.

the fight didn’t take that long, but they did receive quite a few hits, so you insisted on helping them patch up. shin had it the worst since he took a couple hits protecting you at first, so you started with him, then kuro, and lastly uchiyama.

having you so close to him was not doing his adrenaline fueled heartbeat any favors and he was convinced he might need to visit a hospital tonight.

kurosaki leaned over your shoulder while you were wiping the blood off of his friend's lip, holding a cold pack to his cheek with one hand while he had the other on your shoulder, using you to prop himself up, “how does ucchi look?”

you hummed in thought, “a lot better than you, actually.”

he made a strangled noise somewhere in the back of his throat, like you just ripped his confidence to shreds with your bare hands, while shin huffed a laugh somewhere in the background. as for uchiyama, he kind of short-circuited.

“uchiyama haruhiko that is an original juicy couture purse. if you drop it on the ground, i will hang you by yuji’s chains.”

“yes ma’am.”

oh, he’s cooked.

The first day that the numbers hit double digits in the UK may as well have been a wildlife documentary.

Billy could basically hear it, the slow, posh drawl of Sir David Attenborough observing a pack of zealous lads, dressed in varying shades of the same Zara shorts. A group of girls blubbering gossip between each other like turkeys with a vape in one hand and a Sex on the Beach in the other. All the way down to the 60-odd year old regular who hated all this bollocks and just came for a quiet one like he does any other day, filling it with the illusion of a routine since being newly retired.

That's what he thought as he looked around the Bull's Head Pub. The weather had promised an incredible 18 degrees. In one corner, an underpaid bar staff member delivered a pitcher of Stella Artois to a rowdy group of barely legal lads. Through the doorway to the beer garden, smoke billowed around the glowing, tanned shoulders of the al-fresco types. Conversations and laughter carried by the scent of a barbeque a few doors down the road and the blare of some boy racer's Ford Fiesta churning out a tinny version of Vengaboys.

It was well and truly rammed. He'd half been tempted to invite someone out with him for a quick one, and soon, he would wish he had. Instead he'd chanced it on his own. The bar staff barely looked at him as she laid a pint in front of him, the foam spilled over the edge and soaking his forearm. The head was too thick, but Billy didn't care, or rather was too nervous to call it out. He tapped his card and ventured outside, greeted by the inviting wall of warmth, palming his back pocket for his pack of fags.

There was no chance in hell of getting a seat. With a quick sip to relieve the very brim of his pint glass, he found a standing spot close to the exit, and with a sense of relief, stuck the butt of his cigarette between his lips. The brief sense of ease was soon interrupted.

"Billy! Oh my god!"

He had never been good at schooling his expressions, his mum told him so when she told him how easy it was to tell when he was lying. He knew that voice, that excited, needy cadence he'd rather forget. He closed his eyes for a moment, as if he could convince himself that no, this wasn't happening, he was in fact not in the Bull's Head about to open his eyes to a woman he ghosted after a one night stand.

But alas, his eyes opened to the side and there she was. Practically bouncing with excitement, eyes all wide and hopeful, like he'd come here to see her specifically.

Right now, he wished he was on the moon.

"Oh…hiya," he muttered, pulling the cigarette from his lips unlit to not seem impolite.

"Fancy seeing you here!" she beamed, "god, how long's it been."

Not long enough. "Oh, uh, dunno," he laughed awkwardly. His eyes couldn't stay still. He scanned the beer garden, almost begging for someone else he knew to save him. That's the thing about coming to the pub on your own at risk of seeing the crazy girl you snuck out on months ago. Nobody to be your saviour when she sinks her claws in.

"Must be, what, a few months?" she went on, not waiting for him to answer. "You look well."

"Yeah. Cheers," Billy said, scratching the back of his neck. He glanced down at his pint like it might suddenly offer him an exit strategy, "you an’ all."

Fuck, why did I say that, now she's gonna think—

"Didn’t think I’d ever bump into you again, if I’m honest," she rocked slightly on her heels, hands clasped behind her back like she was trying to look casual.

"Mm," he hummed, taking a sip just to have something to do with his mouth.

At the silence, he expected her to at least make an excuse, but she didn't leave.

"So… you here on your own, yeah?" she asked, tilting her head.

"Yeah. Just—quick one," he said quickly, already half turning his body away like that might end it. "Won’t be long. I'm actually just about to go—"

"You’ve got a full pint," she pointed out.

"Yeah I've just—got work dead early tomorrow morning—"

"I could keep you company if you want!" she offered, "my mates are inside anyway, they’re doing my head in."

She was edging closer to the empty spot beside him.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

"And, I mean," she went on, "after last time… feels a bit rude to just—"

Billy’s entire body tensed. "Yeah, let’s maybe not—"

"—you know," she continued anyway, smiling, "wake up and you’re just gone. Thought I’d scared you off or something."

"You didn’t—" he started, already flustered, running a hand over his face. "It weren’t like that, I just—"

"So I reckon you owe me at least one drink—"

"There you are."

A woman stood there, about his age, maybe even a year or two older, one hand resting lightly on the ledge beside him like she’d always belonged there. She gave him a small smile, then lifted herself to her toes to press a quick kiss to his cheek.

"You were meant to text me when you got here," she said, like it was an ongoing conversation. Like they knew each other, and had done all this time. He just hoped this car crash of an abandoned one night stand didn't see the shock in his eyes.

Billy blinked. "I—"

"Sorry," she said, turning to the other girl with a polite but pointed look, masked with a smile. "Didn’t realise he’d found someone to chat to."

The girl froze, hovering awkwardly. "Oh— I— sorry, I didn’t—"

"It’s alright," the woman said smoothly, her hand brushing against his arm like it was second nature. "He’s terrible for it. Wanders off, forgets he’s got a girlfriend waiting."

Billy stared at her, completely thrown, but she didn’t even look at him, just reached for his pint and took a casual sip. If he weren't so frozen, he'd have been offended. Pints aren't cheap these days.

The girl’s expression shifted, something like embarrassment flickering across her face. "Right. Yeah. I didn’t know."

An awkward silence dropped like a brick.

"Well," the girl said, straightening up quickly, "I’ll… leave you to it then."

"Cheers," Billy muttered automatically, still trying to catch up with what the hell was happening.

She gave him one last look, half annoyed and half sheepish, then turned and made a quick escape back inside. Billy watched her go for a second, then slowly turned his head towards the woman beside him.

"…what…the fuck?" he said.

She finally looked at him, raising an eyebrow, completely unfazed. "You’re welcome."

He let out a short, disbelieving laugh. "Sorry, who are you?"

"Calm down," she said, taking another sip of his drink like she owned it. "You looked like you were about two seconds from jumping the fence."

"…I was considering it," he admitted.

"Yeah, well," she shrugged, nudging the pint back into his hand, "no need now, is there?"

He stood like a pillock, pint rapidly losing its bite in his hand with the condensation running over his knuckles. If he weren't so self aware in this moment his mouth would have been agape, catching flies. Was this a dream, he needed to pinch himself.

"Well, if the weather didn't cure my seasonal depression, that's done the job."

She hummed with a tilted, almost devious smile on her lips. Her head gestured loosely behind, "who was that, then? A failed conquest?"

"Something along those lines," he scoffed lightly.

"Wouldn't pin you for the type."

He drew his brows together, leaning sideways on so he could see her straight on. At this angle, the perfect, glowing orange line of the sun through the fence slid past the side of her face, down her neck.

"What type is that, then?"

Her eyes lit up like he'd taken the bait, "the type to run out on a girl before she's woken up."

Billy felt the small bead of sweat slide down his face from his temple, his lips parted to take in breath as if flustered suddenly by her. Her eyes traced the moist line it left behind on his face briefly, but no disgust passed her features, her eyes simply traced back to his blue ones, a faint lifting of her lips showing him she was delighted in how she made him feel.

"Drink?" she asked with a raised eyebrow, "reckon you owe me one, for saving you and all."

His heart fluttered, and a near-boyish smile threatened to break across his face. Something dipped in his stomach at the cheeky tone of her voice. Like they had known each other for ages.

Ten minutes later, after braving the bar a second time, a cocktail was placed into her hands and he watched her take a short, introductory sip. Conversation continued easily, despite Billy having seen the aforementioned one-night-stand slip away about half an hour ago. He had wanted to say that she didn't have to stay and talk to him anymore, that she didn't have to waste her breath talking to a guy like him. She'd done her good deed. But the more they spoke, and every now and then, when he said something that made her tip her head back and laugh, that little burrow of self-consciousness began to slowly fade away.

And somewhere between pint two and her finishing the cocktail, she became really pretty. Well— she was always pretty, it's just he was only now dwelling on it.

She raised her near-empty glass, "good choice, this. Two more of these and I'll be texting people I shouldn't."

Billy smirked lazily into his pint. "That so?"

"Oh yeah," she nodded solemnly. "Absolutely humiliating behaviour. One time I had this ex blocked, so I actually e-mailed him to tell him I missed him. E-mail! Who does that."

"You did not e-mail him…" he said blankly.

"I know," she groaned, covering her face briefly. There was a faint, hot flush to her cheeks as she hid her expression away for a moment, one Billy was no doubt sharing as he felt the sting of a sunburn under his eyes. Alcohol buzzed through his blood, and whatever pain was beginning to bloom from sun exposure was soon extinguished. Interrupted by her addictive presence.

The moment the sun faltered behind a house in the distance, her eyes snapped up. It was getting dark, and she was clearly surprised how much time had passed since she'd saved his wounded pride. Billy's heart hammered, shit, he didn't want this to end. Not one bit. His lips parted just as hers did. She's gonna say 'I should go home' or 'thanks for tonight, it's been fun' and he couldn't let her. Whatever came out his mouth was so quick his brain didn't even catch up to the words.

"Do you want to come to mine."

A sentence uttered so quick, he was surprised she even understood him. Her eyebrows lifted slightly, and he immediately felt the crawl of heat up the back of his neck. He cleared his throat, blinking away as if he was suddenly unable to look at her directly, more interested in the circle of moisture his glass had left behind on the ledge. "I mean— you don't have to. Obviously." He gave a short, embarrassed laugh at himself, "that sounded a bit—"

"Fast?" she offered, amused, but not mean or teasing.

"Yeah," he breathed, all the confidence suddenly evaporating.

The beer garden had thinned out around them. Now instead of loud chatter he could hide within, he could only hear the rustle of the warm, summer wind against the grass, and the low music easing through the outdoor speakers.

"I just meant," he started, talking too much because it was better than suffering in silence he immediately perceived as rejection, "we could carry on talking. If you wanted to."

Her grin widened, "thought you 'had work early' tomorrow."

Billy shut his eyes briefly. "Right."

She let out a breathy laugh, "you're a terrible liar, you know. She saw right through that."

His blue eyes sparkled, alcohol fuelling his boyish cheek, "well, good job my schedule freed up when you came along, eh."

The teasing in her expression flickered slightly at that. Dangerous territory now. He could see it in her eyes, the slight dilation of her pupils. She grabbed her bag, slinging the strap over one shoulder.

"Suppose I should make sure you don’t get cornered by any more emotionally attached women."

"Very noble of you."

She winked, and if he were sat down, his knees would have buckled. He even righted too quickly, banging his elbow against the ledge and sending the glasses rattling. But she didn't comment, she'd done plenty of teasing tonight. She followed him at his side out the beer garden and he was suddenly unsure what to do with his hands, so he simply shoved them in his pockets, heat rising up his neck to his ears.

It was mercifully a short walk to his flat. Had anyone seen his face, they'd think she was leading him to the back to the firing squad.

"You suddenly look terrified again."

His head whipped to her, caught out. At his full height he had to look down at her a fair bit. Think of something, Billy, quick. "Just trying to work out if my flat’s clean."

"Ah." She nodded sympathetically. "A universal male experience."

"It’s tidy-ish."

She crossed her arms across her chest. With the sun beginning to set, the chill caught her shoulders a bit. "How tidy we talking."

"There may be clothes on a chair."

"One chair or the chair?"

"Do women have the chair too?"

By the time they reached his building, talking had become effortless again. Easy smiles. Gentle nudges of shoulders. The kind of warmth that made him feel lighter than he had in months. At the front door, Billy fumbled his keys twice before getting the right one in. The nervous energy was quite sweet. Like it was his first day on earth.

He immediately regretted his confidence in telling her his flat was 'tidy-ish' the moment he stepped in. Billy was suddenly hyper-aware of the toppled pile of shoes near his door, the dirty plates in the sink, and the way the floor leading into the living room seemed cluttered with charging cables and a few wayward socks. Embarrassed heat rose further up the nape of his neck, he half-thought of sacking it off altogether, but she was already inside, politely pulling off her trainers as he presumed she did entering any stranger's home.

He rubbed the back of his neck, so high strung that he forgot to even take off his own shoes as he turned to the small kitchen, frantically trying to stack the dirty tea mugs into the sink without breaking one of them. She tried not to watch, but couldn't help but pull her lips together to stop smiling, seeing that her presence had the same effect on him as it had several hours ago. She leaned against the kitchen doorway, looking around. She’d seen plenty of lads’ places, some absolute dives. This one wasn’t bad, all things considered. A bit messy, lived-in, but not grim.

"You can breathe, you know. I’m not gonna bite…unless you ask nicely."

Billy froze mid-reach for another mug, ears going pink. He let out a breathy laugh that was more nerves than humour. "Yeah, sorry. I’m shit at this. Been a while since I brought anyone back here. Can I… get you a drink or something? I’ve got beer. Or tea. Or— fuck, I don’t even know if I’ve got milk."

There was something strangely endearing about how undone he was. Most lads at the pub had been loud, cocky, trying too hard. And here Billy was, all broad shoulders and barely-contained panic in his own kitchen, and she found herself liking it more than she expected.

She laughed through her nose and pushed off the wall, picking a piece of fluff off his shirt that wasn't even there, just an excuse to get closer to him. She could smell some sort of Lynx on him. No doubt he'd doused himself in it before coming out.

"I don’t want a drink, Billy," she whispered, watching the confusion spread across his face for a moment before leaning up on her tip toes, not giving him time to blurt out an answer, and slid her hand to the back of his neck to pull him down to her lips. At first it was slow, as if she was testing how much he'd be into it, but slowly her lips moulded against his so perfectly that she felt his shoulders relax, a shaky exhale and his hands raising from his sides to hover over her body. A low, broken sound rumbled in Billy’s throat as he melted instantly, all that nervous energy dissolving under the slow press of her mouth.

Her lips were skilled as she worked his to her own rhythm, her gentle tongue easing his apart to taste the remnants of beer, malty and deep, and right now, indulgent. Her fingers curled into the damp strands of dark blonde at his neck, and she smirked against his lips at the barely contained whimper he couldn't quite keep to himself. Confidence soared through Billy's blood, assisted by Dutch courage, and his hands splayed against her waist, pulling her towards him slightly to feel the soft press of her breasts against his chest.

Her other hand on his chest twisted into his shirt, encouraging his body towards her as she walked backwards, her back meeting the wall of the kitchen with a soft thud. She kept Billy close to her, mouths moving more insistently now as their need spiked.

She inhaled sharply as she felt his fingers at the hem of her skirt, feeling electric against the bare skin of her thigh.

Their lips broke briefly for Billy to whisper, 'this alright?'. And she felt her cheeks flush at the gentle charm of him simply asking. She nodded eagerly, her hand coming down to his to encourage this behaviour she enjoyed so much.

Billy's foot nudged hers, widening her legs so his knee could slip between them, and she exhaled softly as she craned her neck for his lips to graze the sensitive skin there. With her eyes fluttering shut, his hand slid beneath the hem and found her warm centre.

He was slow, almost gentle in his approach, his fingers coaxing her core to life through her underwear. She could feel that tightening in her gut and the rush of arousal heading south where he was so perfectly touching her, right as he captured her lips again to swallow her quiet whine. The thick pads of his fingers teased her entrance before hooking through the gusset, pulling it aside so he could feel her bare slickness against his skin. Billy almost groaned into her mouth, she was so wet. And she met that needy sound with a small, breathy smirk.

"You're being so gentle…" she teased breathily.

Billy pulled back just enough to look at her. A crooked, half-shy smile tugged at his lips, but his voice was rough when he answered. "Yeah? You want me to stop being gentle?"

A spark of excitement ran through her at that. She rather liked this tipsy, slightly confident side of him. A half-shocked, breathy laugh escaped her lips, but it cut off instantly as two thick fingers slid into her effortlessly, stretching her open in one smooth, deliberate push. The sudden fullness pulled a soft, needy gasp from her throat. "Oh fuck…" she breathed, eyes fluttering.

He held them deep for a long moment, savouring the way she pulsed around him, before he began to move. She could tell his mind was on his movements the entire time, as if wondering when he'd fuck it up. But like this, she's not sure he ever could have. Tentatively, his thumb grazed her small bundle of nerves, by accident at first, but when he felt the velvet of her walls pull him in every time he did, he doubled his efforts, building that delicious pressure higher and higher.

His own breath hitched when he felt her bold fingers at the zipper of his jeans, not wanting to make him feel left out of course. The bulge there was unmistakable, straining against the denim. She palmed him through the fabric first, squeezing gently, feeling him twitch under her touch.

With a small, wicked smile, she tugged at the zip, slipped her hand inside and past the waistband of his boxers, and wrapped her fingers around his cock. He was hot and heavy in her grip as she began to stroke him confidently from base to tip, twisting her wrist on the upstroke in a move that sent electricity right up his spine.

"Jesus Christ…" Billy muttered, voice strained, forehead dropping to rest against hers. His fingers faltered inside her for a second as she pumped him with long, sensual strokes, spreading the wetness at his tip down his length. Their hips rolled into each others touch, chasing that delicious sensation over and over.

She kept stroking him steadily, matching the pace of his fingers inside her, squeezing a little tighter when his thumb pressed firmer against her clit. Billy’s hips jerked forward into her fist, a low, guttural sound rumbling in his chest, one that made her smile knowingly that she was driving him to the brink, insane.

She felt his stomach muscles clench, his breathing grow ragged as she stroked him more insistently, throbbing in her palm. He was close and she could feel it. But before she could relish in the wicked thrill of making him cum before her, his other hand grabbed her wrist to stop her.

"Fuck— wait," he gasped, voice tight with restraint.

He didn’t explain. He didn’t pull her hand away completely either. He simply held her wrist firmly against his lower stomach, her fingers still curled loosely around the base of his cock, feeling every frantic throb while he kept her there.

A flicker of confusion passed her until Billy prodded a third finger into her. The stretch was instant but welcome, and she near melted at the feeling, impossibly full. His palm pressed firmly against her clit with every slow thrust, grinding in tight, slick circles that sent sparks across her vision.

"Billy…" she whimpered, the sound broken and needy.

The wet, obscene sounds of his hand working between her thighs grew louder, slick and filthy in the quiet flat. The pleasure built fast and heavy, coiling tight in her belly. Her thighs started to shake around his knee, her free hand clutching desperately at his shoulder. She couldn’t protest. She couldn’t even think. All she could do was moan softly against his shoulder as the orgasm crashed over her without warning.

She clenched violently around his fingers as he rode the wave with her, her lips parted with a broken cry, muffled into his shirt. She grinded against every curve of his fingers, drawing it out as long as she could until her vision blurred and her knees felt like nothing.

Billy groaned low at the feeling as if it were giving him just as much satisfaction, his grip on her wrist tightened as he held her close, savouring every gasp and tremble like it was his reward. Only when her body finally began to relax, slick walls still fluttering around him, did he slowly ease his three fingers out of her.

She let out a shaky exhale at the loss, her body still buzzing. For a moment she just leaned against the wall, trying to catch her breath, cheeks burning hot.

"Why didn’t you let me…" she asked breathily, her voice husky and a little dazed, glancing down at where her hand still rested against him.

Billy swallowed hard, perspiration shimmered against his temples, turning his sandy blonde hair darker. "I was gonna come."

So matter of fact.

She let out a soft, breathless laugh, "that's kind of the point, Billy?"

He gave her a crooked smile, looking almost shy and disarmingly sweet. "Yeah, but if I did… then I can’t… after," he mumbled, ears going red.

"Oh? So there’s an after, is there?"

Billy huffed, half embarrassed and turned on at the same time as the colour of his cheeks joined the one at the tips of his ears.

"…Yeah?" he said, hopeful and a little uncertain, like he was still half-expecting her to change her mind.

She grinned, sliding her hand up to rest against his chest. "Good. Because I’m in your flat this time, so you can’t slip out on me like you probably do after a pint and a chat."

His face lit up, baby blue eyes turning a shade brighter with the relief and genuine happiness. He looked younger like that, all sweet and excited like he'd won the lottery by keeping her here with him.

Without another word, he bent slightly, slid one arm under her thighs and the other around her back, and lifted her effortlessly. She let out a surprised little laugh as her legs wrapped around his waist, her arms looping around his neck. He carried her out of the kitchen and down the short hallway, his mouth brushing lazy kisses along her jaw the whole way.

He nudged the bedroom door open with his shoulder and gently deposited her onto the bed, following her down so his body hovered over hers. The mattress dipped under their combined weight, sheets cool against her heated skin.

Her eyes met his above her, hair fanned out against his bedsheets. Billy couldn't have come up with a better view if he'd tried.

A proper smile broke across Billy's face, warm and boyish. He leaned in and kissed her once, slow and tender, before murmuring against her lips, "as if I ever would."

A week passed rather quickly in which all the preparations for the tourney were made.

Today was the Mother's day tournament. King Aegon ii had declared it in honour of his mother and his wife and queen- Helaena who gave birth to his fourth child- princess Elaena, a moon ago. It was as the first royal tourney in over 20+ summers. Almost all important houses were invited, even those who supported Rhaenyra in the war as he pardoned them eventually.

Your family was present too. A day before the tourney they arrived at the Keep. It was the first time seeing them in months. You missed your mother and siblings very much if you were honest despite writing to them at least twice a moon. All three of your brothers were present and eager for the tourney as it was the first tourney that your second brother Derrick and the second of your eldest brother Walys, your youngest brother Owen was only ten summers old so he couldn't yet participate but nevertheless he too was excited.

Unfortunately you didn't sit near them when the tourney began as you sat near the Dowager, right next to Myla and Collena. It was supposedly the best place to view the tourney from.

You wished Gwayne sat near you but he was competing in the joust alongside tens of other knights from all across the realm. Before the 6 way joust began as the crowd was quieting down and waiting for it to begin he motioned his black stallion towards the rolls where you sat alongside the other nobles.

You didn't know what he'll do. You had never been previously at a tourney. But as he was resigning his horse to stop Myla shook you and whispered behind her hand that he wanted your favour- preferably a ribbon. You were surprised but quickly pulled off one of the ribbons in your hair- a red ribbon with golden embroidery.

Ser Gwayne lifted his visor slightly so he could see you better as you carefully stood up from the pews and went over to give him your favour. Everyone was staring at you as you walked. A lot of mumers could be heard in the nature: "Ser Hightower took the sash of one of Lord Fossoway's daughters...". Gwayne took your ribbon and kissed the cloth before tying it carefully around his lance. Then as he moved back towards the jousting grounds the herald called out for the first jousting to start.

Six knights were lined up on- three on the right and three on the left. Gwayne was positioned on the right flank with his black stallion. Across from him was one knight from House Royce who's name you didn't remember. The herald raised his voice, declaring the first tilt:

"In the first joust the matches have been selected in the order: Ser Ronell Hayford versus Ser Jeran Sarsfield, Ser Gwayne Hightower versus Ser Ronan Royce and lastly Ser Harrold Westerling versus Ser Walys Fossoway"

At your side Myla leaned forward eagerly while Collena watched with quiet interest. Then the horn blew and in the next second the horses of the Hayford and Sarsfield knight shook the earth as they rode forward towards eachother with their lances ready. The two men clashed but in the end Ser Jeran Sarsfield’s lance splintered first, sending splinters flying, while Ser Ronell Hayford held firm and kept his balance. The Hayford won that round.

But you didn't pay too much attention to the opponents. Your eyes were only on Gwayne who was next to them on the neighbouring row. He seemed very focused and it seemed that he was trying to calm his horse down as the stallion was quite energetic. After the winner of the first round dismounted he and his opponent were escorted the second dual quickly began.

Gwayne's opponent was a rather bulky Vale knight with a massive dappled warhorse. Gwayne's own stallion seemed even more impatient- constantly stamping and neighing.

Then the horn was heard. In that moment both horses surged towards eachother. The crowd was loudly talking and cheering for whoever knight they supported. Gwayne's lance dipped low as it moved closer to the Vale knight before it violently spllited the Royce's shield, injuring his arm. The knight struggled to stay on his horse. A few seconds later he fell and hit the ground hard but thankfully didn't seem too injured.

The crowd erupted. You alongside most nobles clapped. The royal family seemed the most pleased with prince Daeron and his newlywed wife Patricia Redwyne clapping the loudest. Myla was grinning at you as she knew what it meant- you could actually become the Queen of love and beauty if Gwayne wins 2 more jousting matches.

Before you could overthink this the next dual was to begin- between a westerling knight and your eldest brother. Walys was a tall and broad shouldered man with copper hair and sharp features like your father. He wasn't a great knight if you were honest, he had never won a tourney match but his stubbornness made up for his "success". You were nervous as his opponent- Harrold Westerling was known for his brutality in tourneys. Walys rode onto the dusty ground with his brown mare with the Fossoway sigil on his helmet and shield. He had a favour on his arm from his wife whom he married just two summers ago- Lady Ella Crane, who sat next to your mother. Across from him Ser Harrold entered like a storm. You turned your head towards your family. Your mother and Ella Crane seemed especially nervous as Harrold was notorious for injuring many knights.

The horn finally blew. The horses surged forward and the lances lowered. Westerling struck true first and hit Walys square in the chestplate with such force that your brother rocked backward violently. His horse reared up slightly from the jolt but somehow he stayed on.

You thanked the Seven for this. Then for the second round the two riders sped past each other at full gallop. The Westerling leaned far too forward and with a heavy thid fell as he was hit by your brother's lance. Ser Harrold seemed quite injured and for a moment everything was quiet.

The second round of jousting happened between your brother, Gwayne, Ser Ronell Hayford and Ser Lewys Piper. In the end Gwayne had the most points- after winning against Ronan Royce in the first round, against Lewys Piper and even your own brother in the second round. Your brother unfortunately fell in the second round against Ser Gwayne but he was still proud of himself for winning his first tourney dual in the first round and against Ronell Hayford in the second. He fortunately placed too, on second place, after Gwayne.

Almost immediately after the joust Gwayne came to check up on Walys. He wanted to see if he was okay as Walys was still a fairly new jouster with not much experience. He didn't expect you to also be there as you were checking up on his horse which you spent years riding when growing up in Cider Hall.

Gwayne dismounted near the stables, his armor still on but his visor now lifted and walked towards where Walys sat slumped against a hay bale next to his wife. Walys looked exhausted but still had a calm smile on. His wife, Lady Ella Crane, was treating his small wounds.

Then Gwayne stepped forward and nodded respectfully to Lady Ella.

"You fought well," the Hightower knight said simply.

Without a word, he reached into the saddlebag at his belt and pulled out a small linen pouch tied with string. Inside were dried apple slices meant for horses. Gwayne stood back after handing over the apple bundle, his emerald eyes flickering briefly to you before returning to Walys.

"The exiting ceremony begins soon," he said, voice low but clear. "King Aegon will name the champion. You should go prepare if you'd like to attend."

Lady Ella glanced between you two then stood smoothly.

"I’ll escort her back," she offered gently.

Ella took your arm gently and began leading you back toward the Keep’s towers where Alicent’s chambers were. It would have been very improper for a maiden like yourself to walk around alone or be accompanied by a man that isn't her family member or husband. Myla and Collena would be waiting there, no doubt helping other ladies adjust their gowns or hair for the ceremony.

Back in the royal chambers, ladies were already helping each other adjust their gowns like smoothing their skirts and fanning themselves from the summer heat.

Alicent looked up from her seat where she sat watching servants prepare one of Queen Helaena’s ceremonial gowns for the ceremony. Alicent studied you for a long moment. Then, without speaking, she gestured to one of her maids.

"Fix Lady Fossoway's hair," she ordered calmly. "And bring the pearl tiara, the small one."

The command surprised Myla slightly, even she knew that Alicent rarely handed out royal jewelry so freely.

Within minutes, a maid returned with an elegant circlet. It was a delicate silver twisted into vines and adorned with tiny pearls. They began arranging your hair carefully around it.

Alicent stood too now, the Dowager Queen taking Queen Helaena’s arm as they prepared to lead their group toward King’s Court for ceremony, with the children following.

Myla leaned over and whispered: "Whatever happens tonight… I think it’ll be big... Perhaps I could finally find a match father would approve of..."

A good few minutes later everyone returned back to the tourney grounds for the ending ceremony. King Aegon II sat on his throne beneath a golden canopy made just for outdoor processions and tourneys, Queen Helaena beside him along with the prince of Dragonstone- Prince Jaehaerys, along with princess Jaehaera, prince Maelor and little princess Elaena.

Then the trumpets blared again. Then the King began crowning each winner in the different competitions that took place today (most of which you didn't have the chance to see): archery and melee fights which were unladylike in the Dowager Queen's opinion that's why you got ready alongside her, almost as if she was bored by those competitions, only really being present at the last melee when Ser Criston Cole was present.

Every knight and participant that won had been crowned with a garland of bronze.

A quite unknown Valeman had won three straight matches in archery. Another- a riverman, had won the melee. No one cheered wildly as this part was more ceremonial than exciting.

Then a few moments later the herald stepped forward and announced:

"The jousting champion of this tourney is Ser Gwayne of House Hightower!"

The crowd erupted as Gwayne stood up from his seat without a word or dramatic gesture and walked forward toward King Aegon, his nephew.

A servant approached with a larger bronze wreath than the others but this one was intricately woven with emerald leaves.King Aegon took it from the servant then lifted it slowly above Gwayne's head. Then he spoke, loud enough for all to hear:

"Ser Gwayne Hightower… champion of jousting at this tourney. May your skill and honor be a light to others and the Seven."

Gwayne bowed deeply first to the king then briefly toward Queen Helaena beside him.

But then something quite unexpected happened. Gwayne stepped forward and began walking toward you.

Then he placed another bronze garland on top of your head, this one with little ruby gemstones. A herald immediately announced:

"The Queen of Love and Beauty has been chosen- Lady Y/N of House Fossoway, third daughter of Lord Fossoway"

In that moment every head turned toward you as the herald’s voice rang out across the silent lists. Gwayne stood beside you close enough that his armored shoulder almost brushed your gown.

A feast took place in the Throne Hall an hour later with one of the longest tables you've ever seen, all filled with meats, pies and fruits alike. This time your family was placed near you- at the high table next to Dowager Alicent. This was unusual as all the other ladies-in-waiting of the former Queen were sitting alone besides her without their families next to them. But you didn't want to overthink too much at this nice dinner feast.

The evening took turn when your father stood up, seemingly the only one standing in this entire room. He raised his goblet high and in that moment all chatter died down. Queen Alicent followed suit, raising her silver goblet as well.

Your father then cleared his throat and began talking:

"Your Highnesses, friends, lords, and ladies of the realm," he began, "we stand here today not just to celebrate this church holiday and tourney but to announce a much anticipated union..."

Then Alicent brought her goblet higher and it seemed that she was going to speak next as your father stopped.

"By the grace of the Seven," she began, "and by the blessing of our families and King… I am pleased to announce the betrothal of my brother Ser Gwayne Hightower…"

She paused just a second then continued:

"...to Lady Y/N Fossoway, daughter of Lord Fossoway of Cider Hall."

She paused, letting it sink in, then without missing a beat:

"Their marriage shall take place on Midwinter’s Eve."

The hall erupted with cheers and congratulations. Your mother and father seemed absolutely pleased. Minstrels immediately switched tunes to joyful ballads. Even Aegon II raised his goblet and shouted: "Let us drink in honour of my uncle and his future bride!" Servants began pouring wine faster than ever. Myla turned to you across the table and mouthed: "You’re betrothed."

But all you could really focus on was Gwayne's playful smile as his emerald eyes never moved from yours.

Sidenote: lemme know what you think! I rarely get comments so I have no idea what y'all want to see next 🤧