#and also bc he was raised to see apples (their apples at least) as these sacred things that must never be touched

[strawberrus0da]

I love Dream being fucked up about apples. Not even bc of trauma or anything (not fully anyway) but bc that’s just. him. that fruit is his soul now

What kind of images are conjured when he sees someone making applesauce or drinking apple juice

I wanna see him watch someone put a bunch of cut up apples in a blender as part of a recipe and he’s just standing off to the side like

[leclsrc]

do you want it? ✴︎ cs55

genre: summer love!!!, slight age gap, porn w plot basically...

word count: 10.5k  

Whatever preconceived notions you have about your summer at the beach house are all toppled over when your parents announce the arrival of a guest, who happens to be your dad's friend. title from this

auds here… hiii :) req'd by several people! few notes... carlos is aged up a tad, the age gap is 21/33 so not too bad (i aged him up bc the age gap was 7 yrs and i was like. Huh. thats tame). if ur not into that (tho everything is consensual and reader is legal) its ok! anyway im sorry this came so late i had like 6 anons asking ab carlos and lana haha. also big thanks to dani whose work got me thru 4 writing ruts

nsfw warnings under the cut!

18+ because... sexual tension, penetrative sex, dry humping, oral sex (m and f receiving), deepthroating, semi public sex ish?, praise central, size kink, like a flash of spit kink sorry..., overuse of the term good girl

Half past noon and after a particularly snappy call from his manager, Carlos bites the bullet on summer plans and decides to accept what is arguably the least glamorous offer on his roster. By no means a dazzling standout, the offer to stay at a family friend’s house in Comporta seems to be the most comfortable option—besides, he doesn’t feel himself to be in the glitzy mood for cities like Los Angeles or Monaco.

Lando, beside him, is thus the first to get wind of the news that “grumpy old man” Carlos will not be accompanying him to the ultimate, tequila-flavored “summer extravaganza” in Morocco.

“You’re boring,” Lando moans, pacing the room. Outside, London’s skyline moves passively. Carlos hangs up his phone call with his assistant, receives a picture of his flight details, and looks up amusedly.

“Portugal is not boring.”

“Morocco. DJs, drinks, girls.” Lando raises one hand. “Comporta. Family friends, apple cider, sand in your eyes.” He raises another hand a few inches lower. “See the difference?”

“I appreciate the difference.” Truth is, Carlos has needed this kind of quiet, calm time off for a while now. The season gets heavy and intense and tiring, and sometimes just staying by the beach with a beer is the best kind of reprieve.

“You’re getting old,” Lando says with a sour grimace. “Old.”

“That is,” Carlos says, searching for the word, “defamation.”

Lando shrugs, moves off the subject as he shoves a handful of crisps into his mouth. “Are you meeting family there?”

“No.” Both of his parents are out of the country for the next few weeks; Carlos was invited by his dad’s friend, though the bond they share is more friendly than just the standard uncle-nephew type of relationship, and they often refer to each other as just friends. “Just friends. Gallery owner and a company owner, I think.”

Lando whistles. “Rich.”

In response, Carlos nods. “And their daughter, who’s visiting from university in the States.” The details are fuzzy in his head, but the gist is about right.

“Sounds boring,” his friend snorts. “Come on, mate. You, me, Daniel. One last chance to watch Peggy Gou’s set and take shots and have fuuun.” He says the last part with the suave that would only rival a preteen’s.

Carlos, for a second, lets his resolve waver. Maybe it would be better watching loud DJ sets, dancing, getting all flushed with alcohol. But he blinks and shakes his head anyway. He hopes his decision is the right one, that summer in the beach house ends up being worth it. It’s a few weeks by the beach, anyway—what’s the worst that could happen?

—

Any recollection of your childhood almost instantly connects to the beach house in Comporta, big and wide and right by the coast. You spent fall, winter, and spring in a constant bumbling state of excitement to spend summer there. Your parents owned it, and often offered family friends to take up residence there when summers in the city got unbearable; for the most part, though, it was the three of you and, on rare years, a guest.

Your summers there have since smudged into the same few memories, of your mum and dad’s faces, of swimming and the learning curve of sailing, of bonfires by the beach on cold nights. And they have since become just that: memories. Summers grew sparse with time, and eventually the idea of meeting distant family friends became more embarrassing than exciting; by the time your parents moved you out of Europe for college, you’d lost almost all memory of the house.

So when your parents ask if you want to fly back to Comporta and spend a few “quiet” weeks there, you figure there’s no harm in seeing what the house is like and what summer can offer you beyond the weekly club outings. Instead of the usual quiet and overall lack-of-bustle that comes with summers, however, you open the front door to three housekeepers dusting every surface in your immediate eyesight.

“Are we hosting a wedding?” You ask when you find your parents tending to two sweaty glasses of champagne. You gesture faintly to the cleanfest inside. “What is going on?”

“We have a guest,” your mother says as she gets up to hug you tight. “Staying for the summer.”

“You said this summer would be quiet,” you deadpan, eyes narrowing underneath your sunglasses.

Your mum pinches your elbow. “I wasn’t lying,” she defends, raising her eyebrows. “Carlos’ son is coming.” She pats your arm. “You know? The race driver! He’s close with your father.” And, leaving no space for you to voice your dissent, she slips back into the house through the screen door, your father kissing your cheek then following suit. Your mouth parts, thoughts beginning to rush with implications of what your mother has just told you.

Carlos—if you’re correct—is Carlos Sainz, Sr., a good friend of your dad’s, and his son is Carlos Sainz, Jr., another good friend of your dad’s, because if there’s one thing rich Europeans do well, it’s the repetition of names. You’ve never met his son, only heard of him and seen a few pictures, but being so far detached from life here, you can’t even shape his face.

All you recall is the fact that he should now be thirty or older, which makes him rather older than you—and therefore effectively incapable of providing any break from any possible summer boredom. For fuck’s sake, he’s close to your dad. You’re at the top of the stairs when you hear the commotion by the front door, peeking at the foyer to catch a glimpse of him.

He’s solo, you observe; upon a glance into the front parking, you notice he’s driven here in a Ferrari, one a bit too modern for your taste but beautiful nevertheless. He carries only two pieces of luggage, and the sun blinds you for a moment before he’s finally at the doorframe, smiling politely, talking to your dad in casual Spanish.

He is, for lack of better word, insanely handsome. He wears a polo that shows off much of his arms, that flex as he puts down his luggage to shake hands with your parents; you follow the movement of his hands to watch one comb through his thick hair, then down to his smile, back up to his brown eyes, deep and so, so pretty.

Maybe this summer deserves a little less begrudge, you decide as you retreat back into your room, still brewing with residual annoyance.

Your parents send him off after a drink and a brief conversation, catch-up, tour of the downstairs area. Carlos knows his room is supposed to be upstairs, but the problem arises in the fact that there are two upstairs rooms and he doesn’t know which one he’s supposed to be staying in. Setting his luggage down for a minute, he knocks on the first door; permissive silence greets him for half a minute, so he turns the knob and prepares to enter.

To his surprise, he finds somebody already inside, a figure by the mirror on the other end of the room. What catches his eye is not the tiny skirt, but the half-tied bikini top currently being wound around two fingers at the centre of your back. You’re basically clothed, but Carlos can’t decide if he’s thankful or not—he doesn’t have time to when you catch him in the mirror and turn around quick, mouth agape.

“Can’t you knock?!” You ask, catty.

“I did—I knocked, but you—there was no answer,” he explains profusely. “I’m Carlos. Sorry, apologies. Truly.”

You introduce yourself. You’re his friend’s daughter, this and that, and you’re visiting from the States to spend summer here. He apologizes again when you finish. 

“Well, seeing as though this is my room,” you shoot back, “that must be yours.” You gesture vaguely to the one down the hall. Amused and a little embarrassed, he mouths apologies as he closes the door.

Carlos exits, departs and doesn’t have time to take in the room before he’s facedown on the bed. Any sleepiness he’d collected from the trip over, from the day drinks, from the headache that’d been blooming at the temples of his head, has dissipated. His mind’s been imprinted with one image only, and it’s down the hall in a tiny skirt.

—

Lunch brings lemonade and pasta, two staples for every summer meal. You, however, find yourself hopelessly distracted by the presence of your guest, and despite your best efforts, the churn in your stomach disables you from fully enjoying the carbonara on the table. The conversation between Carlos and your dad ends up taking your attention instead. “So you’re racing again in a few weeks?”

“Sí,” Carlos nods in-between forkfuls. Then, to add, “Busy, busy times.”

“Well. It’s the worst of our days,” your mum says, a quote she picked up from—of all places—a BBC sitcom she watched to tears last winter. “You are a talented driver, Carlos. Very cultured. I’m sure you’ll enjoy Comporta.”

“I have not been around much,” he says; his gaze flutters over to his glass, which is devoid of water or lemonade. “Any recommendations?”

“A lot, cabrón. Our daughter will be happy to take you around,” your father says on your behalf. He turns to you. “Wouldn’t you?”

“Oh, sure,” you say, allowing a terse smile. “There’s some places around here that aren’t so boring. But that’s being generous.” Carlos laughs at your joke, raucous and goofy, and you would definitely be lying if you told yourself it didn’t get you blushing a little bit, eyes casting themselves to your still-full plate.

“While you’re here, Carlos,” your dad continues, “I have an old car in the garage that could use some looking at. Are you—would you know how to—?”

Carlos nods, accepting the favor—then the conversation naturally slides into one of cars and racing. Carlos chronicles his journey in Formula One, his Toro Rosso days back then when he was younger, his McLaren period, and now, his time representing Ferrari. He talks of pet peeves on the grid, annoyances but also praises for the sport.

“I’d appreciate the downtime, actually,” he explains, “that I’d get from working on a car instead of in one.” He laughs, eyes briefly meeting yours. He looks away, then looks again. He can’t help himself. He wonders if he’s being obvious, if you can tell the way his looks are anything but casual. “Can you pour me a glass?” He adds.

“Yeah,” you mutter, sitting straight to pour lemonade into his waiting glass. You meet his eyes and almost pour it over the pasta. The rest of the lunch is uneventful, a series of adult conversation you can’t seem to engage yourself in fully, and whether that’s because of personal preference or Carlos’ presence, you don’t make an effort to try.

“…ney. Honey.” Your mum’s voice distracts you from your thoughts; when you look up, half the table is clear and Carlos and your dad have ventured inside to deposit plates at the sink. 

“Sorry. Wh—sorry, what?” You blink.

“Your father and I are heading out for the evening. Carlos will be working on the car. That okay, or you want to come along?”

“Um…” You pretend the latter is even an option before shaking your head. “No, I’ll stay.”

“Good.” She strokes your hair. “He could use the company.”

You follow her walking figure inside, where you station your eyes on Carlos. He’s sipping a lemonade. His eyes meet yours for a second and your face is outrageously flushed when you realize you’ve been caught staring, just like his had been earlier when he walked into your room.

—

You’re hellbent on solving a Sudoku puzzle when the dinner bell rings, and you have to finish it on the stairs. Your dad’s always been a stickler for arriving to dinner on time—every meal, but a gargantuan emphasis on the last—and you’ve been victim to scoldings about being five to six minutes late, an instance you don't wish to repeat.

9, you scribble, bare feet moving with speed through the living room, indoor dining room, then to the patio door. 4 comes next, your footsteps following the smell of grilled meat. 8, you write as you turn into the outdoor dining area. You’re halfway through 2 when you stop, look up, and find Carlos preparing dinner.

“Oh—” You pause. “You rang the dinner bell? Are my parents not…?”

“They are at a dinner,” says Carlos, eyes meeting yours briefly. It reminds you of earlier and you clear your throat, looking away. “So I hope my cooking is good enough.”

“It smells great,” you offer, seating yourself down and pouring a glass of wine. He sets the plate down—just-cut steak, a smear of potatoes. “Christ, you cook better than Dad.”

“I take that as a compliment,” he laughs, sitting across you. “Listen, I want to apologize for accidentally walking into your room earlier.”

Your face warms. “No, it’s okay. I was just surprised.”

“It was wrong of me. Let’s start over. I’m Carlos.” He reaches over to shake your hand, still standing. You take it, eyes flitting over his hand, spotting no glinting ring on his finger. With a saccharine smile, you assure him it was an honest mistake, so he segues into a different topic, the corners of his mouth turning up. “So, do you have an itinerary for me tomorrow?”

You hum, passing the wine over to him. “A bookstore, an ice cream parlor, and a bike ride. Anything else is seriously not worth it. You’ll have the next few weeks to explore town. If the house gets that boring.”

“I haven’t been bored so far,” he says, eyes glinting.

“Oh?”

“You know, with the car fixing.” He points vaguely to where the garage is. “But it’s only been a day.”

“Car fixing is boring,” you state matter-of-factly. “You’ll have fun tomorrow.” You cut into the steak and bite into the forkful you stab at, eyes fluttering.

“Good?” Carlos asks, smiling a little.

“I love it,” you mumble. “You’re so good at this, Carlos.”

Carlos retires to his room that night, and finds that today has held a collective motif of losing his shit. He’s anything but sleepy. Restless, wild-eyed, combing hand after hand through his hair. God, if he’d known you were this pretty—this hard to resist, on his first night here, no less—he would’ve been watching some DJ spin out a set with Lando right now.

Instead, he finds he can’t stop himself from thinking about you, the way your eyes had fluttered when he tried saying something on the edge of flirty. Your hair. Your hands, your fingers, lithe around the stem of your wine glass.

I love it, you’d said, you’re so good at this, Carlos. You knew exactly what you were doing, skittish tone putting him on edge. Despite himself, he can’t help but squeeze himself through his pants when he sits down on the edge of the bed, breathing heavy to purge himself of thoughts so low and dirty.

You’re so pretty. You’d be so easy to wreck, make his, goad little moans out of you, get your lips around him, puffy and pink and pretty. He wedges his eyes shut tight and hopes these thoughts will dissipate as the week passes.

Something tells him he’s wrong, though.

—

The tour is delayed because your dad insists he go fishing with Carlos three days in a row, but eventually (likely due to your mum’s insistence) it pushes through. You greet him with a smile, waiting by the door, wearing a sundress. Sundresses will definitely be his demise.

You’re a good tour guide, though, Carlos figures when you’re finished pointing at every turn and sign and dictating what goes where and where the passage to the coast is, when you’ve even quizzed him about where you are and where the house is supposed to be.

After he points in the correct direction, you nod approvingly. “That’s how my dad made sure I wouldn’t get lost,” you explain when he laughs at your choice of tour guidance. 

“And you were what—twelve?” He asks, walking beside you. It’s fairly empty in town, a few tourists mulling about carrying shopping bags and plastic cups of juice.

“Try fourteen,” you argue. 

“Well, quizzing a, uh—a fourteen-year-old is really not the same as quizzing a grown adult.”

“Ha. Call me when you can’t find your way home tonight,” you diss sarcastically, making a turn toward the bookstore down the street. “Okay, here we are. Don’t get too excited. They’re just books.”

For a relatively empty town, the bookstore always has new batches of titles, displayed proudly for natives and tourists alike front and centre. But you’re already going to the right side of the store, busying yourself with looking at the signs. 

“The classics shelf is always my favorite,” you say, already walking ahead of him. Your dress bobs softly with your legs as you pace, short and sweet and white. You turn and his eyes slide back up instantly, and he hopes he was quick enough. “Do you have any authors you like?”

“I am not a big reader. You?”

“Huge,” you say, smiling a little. “Okay, we can browse. Are you into any genre…?”

Carlos proceeds to tell you his track record in the literary field includes: reading half the Harry Potter series, a car manual, and a few other titles in Spanish he cannot recall the name or plot of. But, he adds, he’s always wanted to read, found the activity so quiet and still and perfect, so he allows you to lead him through the titles stacked on each table and condensed on each shelf. He points at, sometimes, or picks up covers he finds appealing.

“How about—?” He reaches for a pink cover that reads It Ends With Us, but your hand loops around his wrist before he can pick it up and you’re pulling him into another aisle.

“…Not that.” You continue perusing the books around you, your hand still wrapped around his. With your free finger, you point at the top shelf, and tiptoe against the bookcase to try and get it. You come close, but not close enough.

Carlos, behind you, is successful, not even needing to tiptoe to reach for the red hardbound you’d been pointing at. It also means he’s pressed up against you, heavy and big, and the sensation dizzies you. When he finally pulls it off, you turn to him and find respite in the proximity—you two are so close, every exhale out of your lips causes a puff of air to blow against his hair.

He steps backward. You smile and gesture toward the book he’s holding. “That’s a good one.”

“Gabriel Garcia Marquez.” He reads out the author’s name in one fluid sentence, his Spanish accent becoming naturally more obvious.

“Okay, colonizer.” He knits his brows. “Trust me,” you insist. “One Hundred Years of Solitude—so good. It was one of the first books I read front to back twice in a row.”

“Wow, what an honor,” he teases sarcastically as you move along the aisle, fingertips brushing against the indents of the books. You turn to narrow your eyes and stick your tongue out. Unfortunately for Carlos, the effect this inflicts upon him is not oh she mocked me, but oh how would it look if—

He needs ice cream. Or to just get out of this aisle.

—

You punctuate the day with two cones of it, melting way too fast in the heat of summer. He’s already half-finished with his vanilla, and you’re taking your time with the lemon sorbet you’d gotten for yourself. Apparently, this is the only other highlight the town has to offer, and judging by the fact that most of the other stores are expensive clothes, souvenir shops, and a Bible bookstore—yeah.

Carlos is also more than sated with the three books in the paper bag he’s holding. Scratch that—six books, you bought a haul for yourself—but it’s not a particularly heavy load, so he’s fine. His phone has been buzzing with Lando’s update requests that he’s been deliberately ignoring.

“They make the best ice cream,” you rave, smiling. You lick over the melt on your lips. “Right?”

He might actually drop his cone now. “It is delicious.”

“Well…” You look around, your hair flying with every turn of your head. Lick over lips again. Again, and again. He has to look away.

“…Do you wanna stop by anywhere else?” You turn to him and ask, licking over the tip of your ice cream cone.

It’s hard for Carlos to pretend he’s looking around your surroundings, at the signs and storefronts, and not at your sticky lips, your pink tongue just peeking out to lap at the quickly melting gelato around your hand. His eyes flit downward, to where the hem of your tiny white dress has flown up in the coastal wind, exposing more of your thighs.

“Carlos?” You repeat, voice sweet and waiting.

He snaps his eyes back up and wills his voice to remain passive. “We can head back.”

So you do, meaning your tour ends around noon, and your parents greet you both with lunch and the round of inevitable questions. Did Comporta live up to your expectations? What books did you get? Was our daughter a good tour guide? The latter, Carlos answers with a smile—very good. You allowed your face to flush, blamed it on the sangria.

Now, though, it’s the brink in-between chilly and hot, sticky traces of the summer afternoon still lingering in the air, mixing with the cool of dusk when you decide to exit your room and fix yourself a glass of something, preferably sweet and alcoholic. An empty driveway save for a Ferrari means your parents are gone, leaving you and—if you’re lucky, which you hope you are—

“Carlos,” you call out from the window you’ve just tugged open with the expertise of somebody who’s lived here for twenty-one summers. “Thirsty?”

He looks up from where he is, outside, continuing his operation on your dad’s car. The hood’s been cranked open, and his long hair is damp with sweat, flying gently in the face of the sunset breeze. He smiles when he sees your figure peeking out.

“For what?”

“Whatever you want,” you respond, taking your bottom lip between your teeth. His white shirt’s stained with oil and dirt, tainting it beige and grey, the tight fit even tighter from his sweat. You can make out the outline of his abs just underneath. 

He squints. “Beer?”

You make an exaggerated eugh face to tease him, but duck back inside to bring your homemade aperol and an open, frosty beer outside. When he sees you, he walks closer, smiles and takes a swig of the drink you offer. He makes a noise of satisfaction and you have to make a real effort to maintain a semblance of normalcy, eyes averting from his lips to gaze instead at his solid shoulders, his build, big and tall.

“What’s the problem with beer, hmm?”

“Tastes like shit.” You raise your aperol. “The sweeter, the better. How’s Dad’s car?” You blink, sidestepping him to try and gauge his progress.

“Casi termino.” You look at him, raising your eyebrows, and he translates. “Almost done. It wasn’t that destroyed, if at all.”

“You think he’ll let you drive it when you’re done?” You ask playfully, swiping your condensation-wet finger over the side of the car. You turn, smiling expectantly; Carlos laughs a bit, shrugs.

“It is just a favor. But if he does, I’ll make sure you get to come along.” He says. “You like that?”

“Mmm,” you nod, sipping on your aperol. You part from your straw, lips stained, and smile up at him. “I do.”

His gaze is stuck on your lips. You lick over them, and he looks away with a slow blink. You watch as he ruffles his hair, rounds the car and crosses his arms to view it from the back.

God, he’s handsome. You think of the long-winded nights you’ve been spending trailing your fingers over your legs or texting inspired paragraphs to friends back in university about him. Their responses are almost always Send pic now and a cacophony of heart eye emojis when you manage to snag a stolen shot of him doing just about anything.

His gaze is scrutinizing, every little detail of the car, and eventually he closes the hood again. “Should be good by tomorrow.”

“Where’d you learn to fix cars?” You ask sweetly, nearing him. The wind bites at your legs, your flowy skirt bouncing sporadically and held down by your free hand. When your eyes flit to his, waiting for his response, you find them snapping upward. He’d been distracted.

“I work with cars, so it comes natural.” You lean on the hood of the car and he comes to stand in front of you, his eyes pointed downward at you. “That’s not a very good habit,” he adds.

“Drinking?” You pout, raising your half-empty glass. You blink up at him, the corner of your smiling lip caught in your teeth.

“Biting your lip.” His gaze is intense. “You do it a lot, I noticed.”

You smile, leaning backward a little. His resolve is breaking. “Can I borrow one of the books you got earlier?”

“The three ones you bought not enough?” He raises a brow, downing beer again. Some of it dribbles out of the corner of his lip. You’ve never been one to like the taste, but you’d lick it off him if you could.

“I just wanna browse it,” you push. “I’ll return it tomorrow.”

“Fine,” he relents. “I’ll give it to you tomorrow.”

—

He sees you the next day after lunch, which you’d skipped because you “weren’t hungry.” You’re wearing a dress, hair clipped into a bun when you excuse yourself to pick up an earring in front of him. He almost thinks it’s a fib until he sees it, the pink gem on the floor.

“Sorry,” you say, voice mellow, and then you’re bending over to pick it up. You’re wearing pretty lace panties underneath.

Carlos clears his throat and excuses himself, adjusting his shorts as he goes upstairs.

—

He gives you Norweigan Wood after dinner, like he promised earlier in the week. Two raps on your door, and when you open it, he’s already handing it to you with a quiet smile. “Goodnight,” he says, his voice clipped.

“Our tour isn’t over yet,” you tease, tossing the book onto your bed and descending the steps back downstairs. Confused and interested, he follows you, to the back area of the house, past the swinging screen door, down the steps, and onto the sand.

“Tour?” He repeats, for clarification. The only things to tour are sand and twigs.

“Yeah, Carlos. This is the real tour,” you joke, walking backwards. Every step sends your foot sinking into the cold sand, slowing your pace until Carlos catches up, matching your steps once he does. “Comporta—real and unfiltered.” You both laugh at your hyperbolic, MTV-worthy statement, and he waits for more, entertains you further.

“What is so real about this?” Carlos laughs, allowing himself to humor your little schtick.

“Well, mister. This isn’t bookstores and ice cream parlors.” You point to a nearby spot in the sand, just by a rogue stick. “This is where I smoke without getting caught. Near enough that I can run back in seconds, but faraway enough that my parents can’t immediately see what I’m doing. Granted, I don’t need to be sneaking around much, but if you ever want to do something in secret—”

The implication sends Carlos into a spiral of thought.

“—here’s your spot.”

“So you smoke,” he says when he sits himself on the sand, observing the now-dark skyline of the area. You continue pacing around a little, and when you raise your arms up to stretch, he catches a glimpse of your abdomen, the waistband of pink lace underneath the low rise of your denim shorts.

“Occasionally. Don’t play Holy Mary,” you warn, standing in front of him and stretching your hand out to reveal a box of Marlboro Reds. 

“Wasn’t planning to,” he responds, taking a stick and inserting it in between his lips. “Got a light?”

“No,” you tease, taking one for yourself and sliding your lighter out from your pocket in one quick motion. The flame illuminates your face, casts a light on your thin white tee and on the bikini top you have on underneath. You puff out a small cloud of smoke, and Carlos reaches up to take the lighter.

“I said no,” you giggle, your lips knotting into a pout. You hold the lighter just out of his reach, red and bold against the bleak evening. 

“Give it.” He sits up higher, reaches harder; he almost gets it, but you step backward and raise your arm out of reach. Again your shirt rises with the movement. The view he gets, this time, of your hips, the lace that hugs the area there, is much more close.  The laugh you emit sends a cloud of smoke out.

“No, no,” you continue, laughing, a sweet sound.

Carlos gets up, tries again to lunge for the lighter. At this point he doesn’t even care about the cigarette in between his lips, just wants to entertain you. He tries again but you’re quick with it, ducking every lunge just in time.

“Come on,” he goads, laughing himself. You pace backward, smoking, until your ankles hit the shallow shore water, water that goes deeper and deeper until you’re knee-level, still smiling at him mischievously. 

“Fine,” you relent, shrugging. You throw your hands up in surrender, in the process taking the stick out of your mouth to blow smoke out. “Do you want it? C’mere, then.” You beckon him closer, wave the lighter tantalizingly so he steps closer, closer, until you’re holding the flame to the cigarette between his lips.

He’s so tall, he has to bend a little to let you light it, his eyes meeting yours, illuminated by the pale moon and the orange of the flame.

It all goes to plan. Once you light it, you place two hands square on his shoulders, whirl him so he’s behind you and thus even deeper in the water, and with all your might, push him into the sea. 

“Brat—” he manages to gasp out as he goes, the word leaving his lips in the first and last puff of smoke he lets out. He surfaces, every dip and ridge of his abs and chest accentuated, his linen polo near invisible with how saturated it is with water. His long hair, too, sticks to his forehead; he combs it backward, reveals his amused-irritated eyes, the dead cigarette spouting seawater and ash.

He spits it out. You stare and pinch the soggy stick in between two fingers, stuffing the trash into his chest pocket. “That’s bad for the environment.”

“I am freezing,” he says in response, but you’re just stifling a laugh.

He narrows his eyes, and with unsurprising ease given his build, picks you up and carries you over his shoulder. You barely have time to protest, almost dropping your own cigarette into the water, kicking and pounding on his back to please put me down. You can feel the water getting deep, deeper, and when he finally dunks you in, it’s only a second of dryness before you’re submerged in the chilly water.

Your cigarette dies, and you manage to collect it, because you’re not in the interest of leaving your stick floating; you wedge it into your pocket.

“You’re such”—you gasp for air—“a dick!”

You’re smiling, though, flailing your legs to stay afloat. Carlos can’t help but stare, entranced with the way your eyelashes stick together, damp, the droplets of water on your cheeks, your two hands wringing saltwater out of your hair, and when you swim upward, the way your white tee leaves nothing to his imagination.

You can tell. He can tell you can tell—because the next thing you do, with some faux exaggerated sigh of annoyance, is say, “Can’t swim, too heavy,” and you’re taking off your shirt so all he sees is the red of your bikini top underneath. The white tee bobs softly with each passing wave, and you’re smiling up at him. Checkmate, you’re saying. I’ve got you. A skittish, playful smile on your lips.

“I can help you swim,” he offers—retaliates, more like, his height offering him great advantage. He finds your bare ankle underwater, guides it to wrap around his waist. Naturally, your other leg follows until you’re flush against him, held up by him so you don’t need to wag your legs around just to stay above water.

Your hands go on his still-clothed shoulders first, then eventually around them, fingers linking at the nape of his neck. Your smile is wicked. You’re so sinfully pretty. He wades deeper, holds you all the while, two big hands on either side of your waist, thumbs rubbing over your sides so you can shiver.

“‘M so wet,” you say, voice shaky with chill and laughter. His grip tightens and he has to squeeze his eyes shut to try and pretend you didn’t just say that.

He dips you underneath the surface to surprise you, and your shriek is cut off by the water—he pulls you up quick, laughing, but underestimates his strength because as he tugs, you barrel right onto him, forehead bumping his.

Your eyes are closed, and you momentarily detach from him to wipe salt out of them. “Ass.”

“Brat,” he responds.

You open your eyes to find he’s close, so close you could just lean forward an inch—an inch—and you’d be meeting his lips. You wonder how they feel, how he kisses. He’s confident everywhere else, would he kiss you like that, too? You lean closer, a wrecked gasp escaping you.

“You’re so pretty,” you say, and it’s supposed to be teasing, but your breathy voice is genuine, honest. A thumb swipes over his eyelashes, causing him to blink, then the bridge of his nose. He leans upward, tries to catch your lips, but pauses, his eyes fluttering open and closed.

“This is wrong,” he says in a quiet breath, making no move at all you stop either of you from kissing right now.

You want—need—to kiss him, but you can play the long game if he wishes to. Your eyes flit back up to his, dark brown and reflecting the moon.

“Then let’s head back,” you suggest, even if both of you want anything but.

Long game. He guides you back to shore, picks your tee up, uses it as a sieve for any loose ash and cigarette bits in your path back to shore, even finds your red lighter that’s now dispensing water. He apologizes for not having anything to dry you with, and drops you off at your room with a puddle in both of your wakes.

“Thank you again,” he says, his voice a whisper through your ajar door. He observes your room with what little vantage point he has. The posters on the wall, the art, postcards. The laptop on the bed, open. The phone charging on the nightstand. The thong hanging out of the hamper.

“No problem,” you say back, voice saccharine. Your hand wraps around his wrist. “See you tomorrow.”

Even if you’re doused in seawater, he can still smell the traces of your perfume, the summery sweet of it, when you close the door. He stays for a second, blinks, relishes in the hint of floral.

—

You spend three days walking on eggshells around each other, testing the limits of interaction.

Your night at the beach was risky, dangerous, thrilling—but it was fun, sending you both into antsy, restless trains of thought. Carlos self-medicates with coffee, beer in the afternoon, working on your dad’s car, and the first two hundred pages of the Marquez book you insisted he pick up. He spots you sometimes, lounging on the beach with his book in your grip, the waistline of your bikini bottoms leaving a tanline he can’t stop staring at when you walk back into the house.

But he can’t act on it—he was the one who labeled it wrong, the one who suppressed himself, held the urge back. He told you it was wrong. And it is wrong. He’s older, he should be wiser; he’s close with your dad; and a cacophony of other rational reasons he shouldn’t be playing into this skittish summer crush.

“Dad said the boat’s free,” a voice says, and he looks up from his book to find you standing in front of him, wearing nothing but a bikini top and a skirt, loose and riding low on your hips. Your lips stretch into a sweet smile. “Wanna come?”

He really shouldn’t. “Sí.”

So he goes. He’s thirty-five. That’s a grown age. If anything, he’s capable of making sure he stays responsible. He dog-ears his page and picks up his beer to follow you to where the boat is docked. He’d been on your dad’s yacht earlier in his trip here, to go fishing, but it’s quieter today, bobbing softly atop the water. You lie yourself down on the sunny side of the boat, sunglasses over your eyes.

“Stay anywhere you like,” you say charmingly. It’s silent for a while, Carlos seating himself on one of the lounge seats in the shaded area, and then you’re moving around on your towel.

You peer over your lenses, blinking and sitting up, and this is when he knows he can’t do it.

“Carlos,” you call out. “Can you put sunscreen on my back?” You get up again, rifling in your bag for the bottle of sunscreen, dragging a hand through your hair to comb it out. It falls in loose waves, swishing when you turn to hand him the bottle. He pretends he’d been distracted on page 210 when he accepts it, watching as you sit in front of the seat, your back turned to him, your little figure in-between his spread legs. 

A minute passes with no hand at your back. “Go ahead, move even slower,” you joke, and the tension breaks a little; he humors you, laughs and apologizes.

“It’s because hour hair is in the way,” he says, touching it gently, combing it to the side.

“Wait—” You dig through your bag again and pull out a blunt pink ribbon, slipping it into his hand. “Can you braid it for me?”

“Braid?” He doesn’t know jack shit about braiding hair. “I don’t know how.”

“At that age of yours and you don’t know anything about how to please a girl,” you whistle lowly. “Adult virgin?” 

But you guide him through it despite your teasing, teaching him to divide your hair in threes, weaving one strand over the other until “it looks half decent.” He fucks up a few times and your hair looks odd at some point, but in the end, it’s—well, it’s a braid.

“How is it?” You ask, and he can hear your smile.

He does the job well enough for a first-timer, he thinks, finishing it with the ribbon, which he ties loosely lest you’re unhappy with the finished product. It becomes easier to move your hair out of the way, and once your back is saturated with sunscreen, you unfold your legs and get up, turning around and smiling down at his sitting figure.. Loose tendrils of hair frame your face, the braid resting at your back softly, already loosening.

“Your hair can be braided, too,” you comment quietly, knotting a rogue few strands in your fingers. It hasn’t been this tense since that night at the beach, but that ended before the tension rose further—this, now, keeps going. You step closer and he leans back, smiling. “Can I?”

He blinks, nostrils flaring, then nods, his grip on your hips gentle when you sit on his lap, your legs on either side of his. You smile coquettishly, feeling how hard he is underneath you, the denim of his jeans rough against the skin of your bare thighs. Your skirt’s riding up on them with every little shift you make, just to rile him up.

Carlos drinks in the sight of you, sunkissed and on his lap, legs sprawled out, pretty little face framed, bottom lip in your teeth. You’re inviting him closer, your gaze meeting his with sleepy, demure eyes—do something. You look so fucking precious, so pretty. It makes him want to give you everything right now.

You reach forward, make an attempt to try and weave his hair together—but he grinds upward, your breath hitching and a whimper punched out of your mouth.

Your hands are shaking now, barely able to piece his hair together with how good his clothed cock feels pressed against you, where you need it most. 

“Carlos,” you gasp, and all he can really think is—where’d all your fight go? You were so used to being a brat and a half, now you’re whimpering, on the edge of begging.

“Be quiet,” Carlos grunts, digging his fingers into your hips. His other hand lifts your skirt, bunching the fabric around your hips for a better view of your cunt rubbing against the bulge in his pants. The damp fabric of your panties is swallowed between your lips with every grind you make forward and he has to stop himself from cursing out loud at the sight. “Good girl.”

Your hands move from his hair to his shoulders, sturdy and broad; you can feel him squeeze your waist with both hands, then pull you down against him, just once, so your weight presses down on the hard shape of his cock. It makes him shudder and you whine out loud. You resist the urge to grind over it; you’re already so wet you’re making a mess on his jeans.

His praise, mumbled deep and slow in your ear, gets you feeling all warm, almost ditzy. Your hips roll on their own, chasing the delicious drag of rough denim against your clit, slick soaks into and through your panties, making the material cling to the shape your folds. Carlos’ hands are rough when they wander and grope, hiking this godforsaken skirt up so he can press a thumb against the centre of your folds.

“Been so good for you, Carlos,” you whine, circling your hips against him. He can’t stop staring at your pretty, fucked-out eyes, your bitten lips. He shoves two fingers in-between them, imagines how they looked just a few days ago slick with ice cream—now your tongue is laving over his hand. The braid you'd just taught him is quickly unraveling with every nod of your head. “‘M gonna—can I—” The pleas leave you quick, your voice choked.

Euphoric, your mind lifts, foggy and saturated with pleasure, the braid almost completely undone now. His praise is so addictive, gets you worked up and needy. Come on, he says. Make a mess. His accent, his deep voice, the way it rumbles right through you—his voice drops, his touch a little heavier as he presses harder.

You gonna cum for me? His thumb rubs faster until you’re gasping, shuddering, little ahs leaving your lips. He’s got the upper hand now, but you can hear the strain, the suppression in his voice as he rubs over the soaked fabric; you feel his cock growing under you, getting harder. 

P—please—I want to—please let me, you say breathlessly, and you’ve never needed it to the point of begging before, but Carlos is different. He keeps going, doesn’t give you permission, rubbing faster, your heart hammering in your chest.

Feel good?

Y—yeah, you whimper, trying your best not to fall apart here, on your dad’s boat, where anybody could walk on—or maybe see you from afar, humping your dad’s friend in broad daylight. He loves watching you like this; you’ve somehow become even prettier, face flushed and voice shaky.

Come on, he goads. Be a good girl. Cum for me.

It’s the only instruction that matters to you right now, your body seizing with it and cute little moans escaping you as you finish. You catch your breath against his chest, craving warmth even if it’s hot—maybe you’re craving him, his touch, Carlos, just Carlos. You maneuver yourself so legs, exhausted from shaking, are on one side of his body—he holds you close, humming.

He rubs a steady hand across your lower back, gentle and firm and you want him so much more now. “Are you okay?” He asks. “Talk to me.”

“Perfect,” you pant against his polo, fingers playing with the stitching, tugging the collar down so you can mouth at his skin. His hand plays with what’s left of the braid, winds the pink ribbon around his fingers. “Let’s go for a swim.”

—

“And we drove the jet ski around, too,” you say gleefully, your damp hair bobbing with every move of your head. Your face is sunkissed, a little sore from being in the sun for most of the afternoon. Carlos laughs along from where he is at the grill—he’s cooking for dinner, on a quest to make burgers because he’s known for making the best ones back in Madrid, apparently. Your dad, of course, insists on joining, and the two have been asking and answering questions while you and your mum sip rosé at the table.

“Did you have fun?” Your mum asks, her head turning to address Carlos.

“Yeah, tons,” he replies with a smile, his eyes meeting yours for a brief second. You know what he means. It’s been only two days since the afternoon on the boat, and since then you’ve mostly swam and ridden around on the jet ski with Carlos—nothing more.

“See, sweetie,” she adds, placing a hand over yours. “I told you this summer would be fun with him around!”

“Mmm, yeah,” you say, nodding and parting from your glass, “I can really count on him for some excitement.” The statement catches his attention and he almost trails off, eyes returning to yours, before he continues speaking in Spanish to your dad about something or other.

The burgers’ reputation precedes them, and is warranted, you learn later when you’re biting into it for the first time. The remainder of dinner passes by in lively conversation, the sun setting low underneath the Comporta horizon, wine taking the place of rosé. Carlos mentions the racing world again, about how he’ll be back into the thick of it sooner than later, and you pulse with something akin to sadness.

Your parents, apparently so grateful for the blessing that is Carlos’ burgers, offer to clean up and before long, they retreat to their downstairs bedroom. Upstairs, you marinate in your thoughts, blinking up at your ceiling, twining your pink ribbon around your fingers as your hair dries splayed over your bedding. You let your arm down, in the process bumping your elbow against a hard surface.

Upon investigation, you find it’s a copy of Norweigan Wood. 

Carlos is at his desk, taking a timezone-separated call about simulation and season prep, when two soft knocks go at his door and it creaks open. He turns the chair away from the desk to see who it is. An ankle steps in first, then more leg, and then you—in a lovely, pretty pink lace dress, your face illuminated by the moonlight outside. One hand clutches a copy of his book; the other, the ribbon he’d used on your hair earlier.

He’s nursing a bottle of beer, just to help ease the drag of the day, and he watches you approach him, your footsteps quiet against the hardwood of the floor. Wait, he mouths, finishing the call in a hushed tone, and when he hangs up you approach him again.

“I thought you should have this back,” you say, offering him the book. Your eyes rake over him, wearing the same getup he’d worn to dinner—denim jeans, because he’d ducked out to buy food, except he’s ridden himself of his shirt. 

He takes the book, places it on the table, continues staring up at you. “And I thought you should keep this.” The ribbon, pale pink, is now looped around his wrist and tied into a delicate ribbon at the apex of it. You admire your handiwork with a smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

You lean down, face just shy of his. “We shouldn’t,” he manages to eke out, his voice strained.

“But you want to,” you respond softly. “No one’s going to know. Our little secret.”

His eyes are shut, contemplating, and then he’s kissing you—the only thing you’ve wanted, craved, touched yourself to the thought of over the course of the summer. You reciprocate immediately, parting your lips to let him kiss you deeper, a whimper leaving your mouth. He kisses like he knows he’s a good kisser, and he really is. His scent is intoxicating, a drug, sending arousal and desire straight through you.

You part, eyes half-lidded as you stand straight again. You cock your head slowly to the side, and with your head’s movement your hair follows, gathering on one side. It exposes much of your shoulder and collarbones, which lay underneath the thin lace dress you wear to sleep, and which is now subject to Carlos' unwavering stare. He has no shame, eyes raking over you, up and down and back up. One hand curled around a bottle of beer, the other coming up to slowly graze the back of your thigh.

Your breath hitches. “Do you like the dress?” You ask softly, teasingly. It’s nothing special, Carlos, you seem to say; it’s just a nightie.

His hand is rough against the thin skin of your leg, traveling upward. He gives you a nod in response; he does like it, the sheer material, the pink color, the loose way it hugs your body. Roughly, he voices his assent. “Come sit on my lap.”

“Wait,” you say, pouting. Your knee rubs softly against the material of his jeans, and you slowly sink onto your knees, hands placing themselves on your thighs. His grip goes from the back of your thigh to your hair, combing it softly, cradling your face. 

“Let me,” you say, letting your silence imply everything unsaid. He’s going crazy, losing his mind.

“So pretty,” he says, nodding. his voice thin. “Go ahead, baby.”

The petname gets you dizzy. You lean forward, resting your face on the hard bulge in his pants, smiling up at him. You’ve got these big, doe eyes, begging him, and he’s not so sure he even has the upper hand anymore—he would do anything you asked, any request that left those pretty bitten lips. He gathers your hair in two hands, forms a messy, unclean braid, crisscross at the back of your head just so he has something to grip while he fucks your throat.

You make quick, deft work of unbuttoning his jeans, and he watches, leaned back on the chair, legs spread wide with bent knees on either side of your body, caging you in. Carlos’ eyes are half-lidded, a hand at your braid, bringing his beer to his lips, swallowing before he sets it onto the adjacent desk.

His cock is big—thick, intimidating—and you can’t help but wonder how you’re going to fit the whole thing in your mouth without choking. It twitches in your palms the longer you stroke him, precum weeping from the head and slicking up your palms. Gruff expletives, in Spanish and English, slip past his gritted teeth and the sounds travel directly to your core, causing you to instinctively press your thighs together to soothe the ache blossoming there.

You take head of his cock into your mouth, feel it roll over your tongue, heavy and warm. Drool gathers in your mouth and your fingers dig into the muscle of his thighs in anticipation. The hand wound around your braid, pressed against your head, presses heavier slowly, slotting the first few inches of cock into your mouth while avoiding the back of your throat. You relax, letting your lips seal around the length, cheeks hollowing and tongue lulling at the underside. He curses.

You continue bobbing your head, lewd noises leaving your mouth with every move you make; it embarrasses you, but also sends slick gushing out of you.

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes when the tip of his cock grazes the back of your throat; you cough, fingers heavy as they dig into the flesh of his still-denim clas thighs; drool trickles onto his balls. The hand remains there, though, pushing you and keeping you pinned in place as he slowly thrusts upward. You haven’t even gotten him all the way.

You gag and sputter, eyes fully watering the harder Carlos bullies his cock into your throat; you’re dizzy with arousal and submission, maybe one, maybe both, you’re too far gone.

“Easy,” he orders, and you will yourself to breathe nasally, relaxing, burying more of him in you. He loves seeing you like this, hair all pretty—his braid, too—and on your knees, trying your best to please him. “Being so good for me, good girl,” he says, losing resolve. You’re so pretty when you cry, eyes rimmed and bloodshot, tear streaks all over your cheekbones.

He ruts shallowly into your throat, every move punctuated by a guttural gag from your end—once, twice, a third time, before finally he releases you. You let out a cough, and a gasp, breathy, a string of saliva connecting your lips to his tip. He doesn’t want to cum yet—not like this. You gaze up at him, big eyes anticipating, and he guides you upward, on the bed.

He kicks his jeans off and readjusts his briefs, watches you scramble to position yourself on the bed, sitting down properly. “Will you fuck me now?” You ask, your sweet voice raspy. He likes knowing he’s the reason why.

You inch yourself backward so you’re fully on his bed, a hand traveling to stop your tiny dress from riding up any further. He steps closer, one knee on the bed, caging you in again, and stops you. His gaze flickers down to your legs, forces your knees apart so he can see in between them. Your pretty cunt’s soaked through your panties. “Don’t hide from me,” he says, voice rough as he steps back off the bed and kneels beside it.

“Carlos,” you breathe, letting him have his way with you. Your mind’s all fuzzy, but it’s okay—he takes care of you. 

Strong arms snake around your thighs and pull you toward him until your cunt is level with his face. His breath, warm, fans against you, muted by the thin fabric of your panties and it does nothing to help the unadulterated, dirty arousal throbbing in your cunt. He bites at the flesh of your inner thigh, then hooks two fingers into your panties and pulls them aside.

The taste of you is so good; it goes straight to Carlos’ head. And all of your embarrassed, whiny whimpers, the way your fingers knot helplessly into his hair as he drags his tongue up your cunt — that drives him absolutely crazy. He licks at your pussy, sticks his tongue in, nudges your clit with his nose, ekes whimpers and debauched moans out of your lips.

He pushes two fingers into you, doesn’t give you time to adjust before he’s fucking them in and out, moans spilling out of you involuntarily. It’s lewd, it’s dirty, getting his friend’s daughter all spread out for him like this, but Carlos loves it. More, you sob, more, please, I need—yeah—

His skilled tongue doesn’t let up, continues toying with you, licking up all the arousal oozing out of your cunt. He eats you, fucks you with his fingers, until your eyes are welling up with overwhelm and the need to release, your hands pulling at his long hair—your pussy dripping, quivering, right at the edge of your orgasm.

Any of the reservations you had are now out the window. Your grip on Carlos’ hair is tight, pushing his head deeper into your pussy and grinding against his mouth mindlessly.

I’m cumming—!

Your voice is so dirty, so lewd, so needy, when you finally finish around him, slick dripping out and your pussy twitching, clenching and unclenching around nothing as you release. Panting, you hoist yourself on your elbows, your braid surprisingly intact, and pout down at him.

“I said fuck me.”

“So you complain,” he responds with a coy smile, his lips shiny with your slick. You want him to fuck you stupid.

He does eventually, gets you all calm and lying down on the bed, knees to your chest. Your feet cross and uncross with anticipation. He lets his cock rest first on your stomach, where it twitches, smearing precum under your belly button.

“That’s where you’ll be,” you say, stroking him. When he finally does begin thrusting into you, he wishes he could save the image of your pretty eyes fluttering closed, puffy lips open in a whimper.

Your legs tremble with the size you’re taking, his hand gentle as it is firm on your hips, forcing you to take him, take him good, take him better. Good girl, he’s saying, good fucking girl. Inch by inch, you struggle to take all of him, his girth thicker than what your cunt is willing to take. You’re positive you’ll feel him in your stomach.

“Carlos,” you whimper, voice aching.

“Fuck,” is all he can muster, watching your pussy swallow him. “So tight.”

He’s drunk on the feeling of you, wet and clenching around him, so tight. He can tell you’re high on it too, on the stretch of him, the way you keep trying to meet every thrust, legs already beginning to tremble with pleasure and deep arousal. He bottoms out, an expletive leaving him in Spanish, and then slowly begins to fuck in and out of you.

He watches your face, the way your brows knit as you take him, take his cock, eyelides fluttering. “So good,” you moan, mouth open. He drops a glob of spit onto your tongue, tells you to swallow—you do, presenting your empty tongue to him. Good girl, prettiest girl—any and all praise leaves him in dizzy, heady breaths.

“Teasing me for so long,” he pants, his dick splitting you in half. “This what you wanted? Hmm?”

But even in your cloudy mind, you find the grit to retaliate, teasingly, a cloy smile on your lips. “You said it was wrong,” you gasp out with every thrust. “Fucking your friend’s daughter.”

“But you love it,” Carlos goads. “Do you?”

You nod, cockdrunk, but it’s not enough. “Use your words, pretty. You can do it.”

“I do, I love it. I need more,” you whine, getting off on his teasing, on the implication that this is all wrong, that neither of you should be doing this. “Needed this so much, Carlos.” You crack your eyes open to watch the bulge in your abdomen, the shape of his girth splitting you open. He slams into you harder and you try to squirm away, but he keeps you pinned in place.

“And if your dad walked in?”

You gush slick all over him. “Carlos,” you plead.

“Saw his daughter taking his friend’s dick?” He says it low into your ear, bending to make sure you hear all of it. “Taking it like a good girl, too.” He pulls out, slaps your ruined hole with his dick, then shoves it in deep again, groaning when you cry out—getting off on you whining about how sensitive you are, the way you tremble under him and around him. Your pretty little face, all sweaty and ruined.

“I’m gonna—fuck—I’m, Carlos—I’m gonna cum,” you say, nodding. You’ve probably cum twice already, little bursts of pleasure causing your cunt to twitch around him, sensitive. “Can I—?” 

“That’s it,” he praises. “Come on, cum for me. Been so good for me.” You tremble around him as you finish, broken moans fucked out of you with every surge of his hips forward.

He’s close, too, having held off fucking you for the past how many days, and you can tell; his thrusts get shallower, faster, until his hips are stuttering and he’s panting your name out, long hair framing his flushed, pretty face. You reach up to comb a hand through it. “Cum inside me,” you beg, watching him go crazy, his nostrils flaring and eyes blinking quick. 

He pumps his cum into you, thrusting several times as he rides it out, fucking you full of him, of his cum. You relish in the feeling, of being his girl, his good girl. “You’re a mess,” he comments, his face buried into your neck. He pulls out, both of you sighing at the sight and feeling of his cum dribbling out of you, onto the bed.

You unfold your legs, sitting up despite how sore you feel. Your dress is damp with sweat, and slick, and cum. “I feel a mess.” You pout.

“You look pretty.”

“Can I sleep here tonight?” You ask, voice meek. He nods, holds you tight as you both drift off, like he knows that you won’t be his to call his by the time the summer wanes and Comporta is left empty again.

—

“It’s the post-race interview,” Ali calls. “Hurry!”

“I’m coming, I’m coming!” You hop into the living room, tossing her the bag of popcorn she’d requested you to cook. Fall has officially dawned upon the city, adorning it with orange and red leaves, jazz music and cold nights—and weekends watching races.

Around you, all your university friends watch with intense gazes at the winner of the latest Formula One grand prix—something none of you had been remotely interested in just months prior.

You watch, eyes glittering, at the winner. Tan skin, long hair, jogging over to the journalist. Sainz, what a stellar drive! She sounds awestruck, genuinely taken aback by his dominance on the track today. She asks for a message in Spanish, as always; a few words of inspiration, and then, just as a fun little tidbit—did you have a good luck charm today?

He smiles to himself, like he’s just heard an inside joke and seems to think for a minute. “No, not really.” Then he combs a hand through his hair. There, looped around his wrist, is a pretty, pale pink ribbon.

[velvet-games]

in the middle of working on a lucifer redesign :)

thoughts/explanations + minor character analysis under the cut (this was supposed to be short but it ended up being very thorough lmao):

honestly love his canon design so I'm kind of working from that more than I'm trying to rethink stuff from scratch

I'm gonna admit right now that a lot of the design choices were very self indulgent lol; I just want him to be pretty :<

circus stuff~

I've seen a lot of people raise their eyebrows at the circus motif, so I was going to try something different, but I actually think it makes a lot of sense!

I think freakshows/circus acts have been tied to this idea that certain identities/abilities are strange and shameful, only valuable as dehumanizing entertainment -- they're mistakes, freaks of nature

but at the same time many circus performances require a lot of skill and work and love that can go unappreciated, each and every performer at the very least a person worth respecting

I think lucifer sees hell as a freakshow/circus he's been forced to lead and try to control

a bunch of wayward toys meant to be bright and beautiful that have been twisted into something terrifying

and he needs to discover a more empathetic, appreciative, and loving way to think about sinners

and also to realize that it's not about him or his mistakes; it's about a group of people with their own emotions and autonomy that he needs to respect

anyway

all that to say: we're keeping the circus ringleader thing!

I think a whip would make more sense for a ringleader, esp since alastor has a staff already (but they're enemies/foils so maybe their designs should reflect each other?)

there's room to turn the whip into a snake maybe

in the pic I made it look like his tail bc I considered making his actual tail a goat tail (cute! but the longer one suits him better I think)

maybe an apple on the top/handle still

the tux honestly looks a little too formal/cool for him most of the time lmao

so I think he should take off the jacket/have the toymaker apron on instead unless he's fighting

vaudeville doll~

lucifer has a lot going on tbh: circus ringleader, angel, devil/demon, snake, goat, vaudeville porcelain doll, toymaker, etc.

I think I'm gonna take out snake just to simplify a little, but I'll talk about that more later

I was also going to take out porcelain doll but

1) the rosy cheeks are super cute

2) fits with the circus theme

3) fits with the idea that he's both a toy and toymaker (an angel that tried to play god)

uhhh there's a couple self indulgent doodles of him in a vaudeville doll dress lol. not relevant to the design at all; I just like drawing stripes and ruffles

I ended up making him sort of androgynous in a lot of ways? (not that he wasn't already lol) which works for him I think

part of it was the vaudeville doll thing; I wanted to give him (keep?) the eyeshadow and add those little vertical marks you see on them sometimes

also because I really liked the puff sleeves in one of the references I used; it kind of emphasizes an extended hourglass shape with the puffy pants

plus I love drawing the more classic tuxedo shape <3 very yummy lines and details

hair/shape~

I fucking LOVE when people draw him with messy hair, so I made that permanent

I also think (esp since he's blond) having the hair stick out in tufts kind of makes it look like a star (morningstar, lightbringer, etc. etc.)

even more so with the pointy horns (those are also fun to draw cause they're right in the corners of his widow's peak)

I drew a random triangle on one of these as a reminder to keep the pointy/triangular shape language throughout lol

squares would def be wrong with the implications of sturdiness and stability

I think circles would be wrong too? he's vulnerable and ultimately very soft inside so I kept a lot of round lines, but I don't think he's the traditionally bubbly/friendly/peaceful archetype circles are usually used for

triangles are apparently dynamic, dangerous, and unpredictable, which is a little closer to what I'm going for

(shape language is a very flexible rule btw; I'm not saying they determine everything about a character or that one shape has to mean exactly one thing)

he's also a depressed, tortured soul, so I feel like he should look just a little unhinged and exhausted <3 (hence the eyebags on top of the messy hair)

angel stuff~

(sidenote: cherub and seraph are singular, cherubim and seraphim are plural. even the show gets this wrong tho, so feel free to say whatever ig)

I'm pretty sure most people agree lucifer was probably a cherub? cherubim only have 4 wings so I might go with that

I do think it makes more sense if he's higher ranking like a seraph tho ... it's hard to decide whether to go with the show's ideas about angels or actual religious texts cause both are interesting in their own ways

snake~

ARHHGHJF idk how I feel about his nose

again I thought about taking out the snake motif, but he honestly looks good w/o a nose (I mean it's there obviously but you can't see it if it's just snake slits lol), and I definitely like the idea of him having a forked tongue or his eyes turning into slits when he's angry

also also

mini rant on animal motifs in hazbin:

I get the impression that a lot of people think it's a bad thing that you can't tell what animal a character should be? and/or that a motif has to be clearly present in the entire design to be good

and I kind of just accepted that until I started thinking about ozzie's design from helluva boss

like the original demon he's based on is really just that fucked up and mixed with animals you can't always identify

and chinese dragons are like a billion different animals even though they sort of just look like lizards at the end of the day

like obviously if you want the audience to associate a character with a specific animal (like if you want people to think a character's spooky because they're a spider or something), then you do want the animal motifs to be clear/consistent

but sometimes you just want certain elements there and it doesn't matter if the audience picks up on it (at least consciously)

and I think with someone like lucifer, having a lot of animals/concepts mixed together in an ungodly combination makes sense lol

so idk

maybe we'll just give him the nose/tongue

I did try just giving him a button nose in some of these for the doll thing tho

goat/charlie~

urgh I hate realizing I should've designed certain characters together lol

I took out the rosy cheeks in my original charlie design since I wasn't thinking about lucifer, so I put them back in this time lol (and generally thought about how they should be visually related)

I like that it enforces the idea that charlie's lucifer's creation (toymaker makes a doll in his own image yk)

also they both have puff sleeves now :) (charlie's design is basically princess dress silhouette but make it a suit)

I also gave her goat ears, so I figured lucifer should have them too? idk because I like the way his hair looks a lot better without them, and I kind of like the idea of giving them diff combinations of goat features (maybe she should have a goat tail?)

also drawing this made me realize I have no idea why charlie has a puppy nose??? I thought it was the goat thing for some reason but that doesn't make any sense

maybe I'll just give her no nose

anyway! fucking incredible if you read all of that; idk what possessed me to write so much about a half-finished design lol. feel free to leave suggestions/answers to the questions I had!

[nevvdrinksteaa]

favors pt. ii

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

this is part two of this post, i suggest reading that before reading this!

this is my first time writing smut, so please don’t bully me too bad - that being said i honestly think i kinda killed it ngl

also,, i suggest listening to like real people do by hozier during the slow dance bc it was my inspo and it really helps set the scene

~~~

pairing: mike schmidt x reader

original prompt: you’re abby’s babysitter and mike can’t pay you and asks if there’s anything you can do in return and you mention that you need a date to your brother’s wedding

warnings: 18+ nsfw smut, cheating, pet names, afab!reader (p in v) unprotected sex, daddy kink, spitting, cum swapping, throat fucking, spanking, oral (male and female), praise kink, dirty talk, choking, etc etc

word count: 6k

this is NOT proof read so if there are any mistakes ignore them! i believe that anyone of any shape or size and anyone of color can enjoy this. i don’t believe there is any description of physical appearance other than the use of the word ‘curves’ (please please correct me if i’m wrong, i don’t want to make assumptions about anything!!)

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

After some back and forth with himself, Mike decided to invite you over even though you didn’t need to babysit Abby. He wanted to talk about what he needed to wear to the wedding, what time to pick you up, and if you were staying overnight at the hotel so he could try to find a sitter for Abby. He’s never been to a wedding, not one that he can remember anyway. He wanted to make sure you were both on the same page and to him, texting everything just wouldn’t suffice.

Maybe that’s just what he kept telling himself. Maybe he just wanted to see you again. Maybe he wanted to ask you just how serious your relationship was. Is there any way he could squeeze in and replace your current partner? Could he do better than him? Make you cum harder and faster than him? He didn’t even know his name and he was so envious. Jesus, he needed to get a grip, he knew if you could hear his thoughts, you would hate him.

You were sat across from Mike, crisscrossed apple sauce style on the floor. You had a few loose papers, notes you had written last night to read off to the brown-haired boy. You were trying to make sure he was following along with the description of your family. You watched him make mental notes of everything you said, nodding every once and a while. You were nervous, to say the least, you hadn’t had a boyfriend meet your family in a while.

Your family was awful, complaining and nitpicking about everything in your life, nothing good enough for them. You were the oldest of your siblings and your cousins, but way behind in your career, you weren’t married, and you didn’t have any children. When you didn’t bring a date of some sort, they made sure to call you out on that, ‘Maybe it’s just something we’ll have to get used to’, ‘single again? No surprise there’. When you did bring a date it was the exact opposite, ‘You could do so much better’, ‘that’s the best you could do? We thought we raised you better’. It was quite embarrassing.

“My mom is going to be the most difficult, she is very hostile and she loves to pick everything I do apart.” Mike visibility gulped, nodding and making a mental note to limit his contact with your mom. “I think that’s everyone. We will probably need to do some hand-holding and some cheek kisses, some pet names maybe, but nothing that will make you uncomfortable, I already feel bad enough that I had to drag you to this and-”

Mike reached over and grabbed your hand that was resting on top of the coffee table, “Don’t worry about me. I’m a big boy, if I didn't want to do it I would've just said no. I want to help you”

You squeezed his hand, softly smiling at him. “I’m going shopping tomorrow morning for a dress, I’ll buy a tie for you while I’m out and drop it off once I’m finished if that’s okay?” you pick up your phone and keys off the table, standing up feeling the little shocks of electricity poke your legs after being in the same position for too long.

“Of course pretty girl, you can stop by whenever you want” Mike scolded himself, looking straight to the floor, regretting the words as soon as they came out of his mouth.

You look up from the pile of notes you collected, feeling the soft red form on your cheeks. Pretty…

“I’ll be back tomorrow, I’ll text you when I’m on my way,” you say as you walk towards the door, “Bye Abby!” you yell to the girl sitting at the dining table, knowing you won’t be getting a response back, shutting the door behind you. Pretty…

Pretty, Pretty, Pretty.

Those were your only thoughts as you got in your car, buckled in, and started to drive.

~~~

Mike tugged at the forest green tie you bought him trying to make the placement look presentable. Mike hated ties, associating ties with job interviews, sitting in uncomfortable chairs trying to look and sound better than he would be on his first day of the job, just to be there a few miserable weeks until he inevitably gets fired. Nothing good ever came from Mike wearing a tie and he was hoping that you were the solution to solving that problem.

He was combing his curls when he heard a knock at his door, “Abby, get the door, she’s here!”

He heard her desk chair slide against the floor, her little feet fast as lightning to get the door for you, giggling the whole way.

“Oh wow,” the younger sibling looks at you in awe “You look beautiful like a princess!”

“Awe, thank you, Abby” You walk through the doorframe, “Mike are you ready? We need to leave in the next ten if you want to drop Abby off and be on time!”

He walked out of the bathroom, flicking the light off as he exited and looking down the hall, about to tell his sister to put on her shoes he stopped in his tracks. He couldn’t look anywhere but you. ‘Fuck’ he thought, ‘you look so beautiful’ Your hair done just right, a matching green mid-length dress that was tight to your curves, hugging every inch of your body, strappy silver heels that he knew would make you slightly taller than his small frame. Abby was right, you do look like a princess.

You suddenly noticed Mike's eyes on you, pulling away from your conversation with Abby, feeling slightly bad for cutting off her story about her new robot animal friends. “Is everything okay?” Mike didn’t answer, zoned out in his thoughts, “Do I look that bad?”

Feeling super self-conscious, you start to fold your arms on your body, trying to hide as much as possible. Mike immediately notices your body language change.

“No, you look so beautiful. That dress fits you really well.” Mike spoke softly, afraid of looking anywhere other than your eyes as if you’d be able to read his mind if he looked away.

“Thank you, Mike, you don’t look so bad yourself.” You eyed him up and down, his brown curls more pronounced, uncommonly neat, and taken care of, his matching tie slightly crooked, a small white handkerchief pinned to the front. “Very handsome”

Abby pulled you both away from your thoughts, finding it silly that you both just stared at one another not really speaking in full sentences. “Why are you guys looking at each other like that, it’s weird.”

Mike looked away first, embarrassed that a child called him out, “Abs go put your shoes on and grab your stuff, we’re going to be late.”

“Can’t I just come with you guys? I’ll be good, I promise!”

“I’m sorry Abby, my brother doesn’t want any kids coming, this is an adult party,” you say trying to make her not feel so bad, “but I promise you’ll have so much fun at Vanessa’s, don’t tell her I told you her secret but she’s buying pizza AND cookies”

The younger sibling looked at you with big eyes and a toothy grin, scurrying off to her room, singing ‘pizza and cookies’ over and over until she made it to the doorway.

“Ready?” you asked Mike as you started following Abby to the car, Mike grabbed his wallet and locked the door behind him as he followed you to your car.

~~~

The car ride wasn’t as awkward as you thought it would be, at first it was small talk, Mike asking questions about your job and your boyfriend, Parker, and what he does for work.

You turned into childhood stories, you telling him about your first kiss, which was with your middle school boyfriend and you both came in way too fast. “There is no way you broke your tooth!” “I did, It took me three weeks of it missing before my parents could get an appointment for me to fix it.” you reply giggling, “I had the worst lisp and it was the most embarrassing time of my life.”

“I’m sure it was cute, I would have loved to see it”

“You would’ve laughed at me, my brother called me Mike Tyson for months, even after I fixed it.”

Mike chuckled as he turned into the venue, trying to find a parking space. The hour-long drive went by quickly. Now your nerves were starting to appear, seeing all of your perfect family congregating at the entrance and talking with each other, wearing expensive clothes, topped with expensive jewelry. Not ready for them to pick apart your looks, personality, and everything else that they can think of. Mike noticed your anxiety and grabbed your hand, squeezing it tightly.

“We could always go back if you want. We can sleep over at my house and order some Chinese food.”

“As great as that sounds, my brother would probably beat me up over me missing this” You squeezed Mike’s hand, “Let’s just go and get this over with.” You step out of the car and grab your purse, waiting for Mike at the front of the car, he collects his things and stands in front of you. You grab his tie, quickly straightening it. You finished and looked up at him, keeping your hands on his chest. You looked up to Mike, suddenly feeling embarrassed that you two were so close together.

You never noticed how nice Mike’s body was. He was always wearing something baggy, usually torn, his black suit was the nicest you’ve seen him in. ‘He was so handsome’ you thought. You pulled your hands from his chest, “Ready?”

Mike grabbed your hand, face turning a light shade of red at the intimate contact, interlacing both of your fingers together. Smiling to himself, “I’m ready”

~~~

The ceremony was beautiful. Everything seemed to go perfectly for your brother and his new wife, watching the two from the front row. Mike wrapped his hand around your waist during the vows, handing you his handkerchief after watching you shed a few tears. You leaned into the contact, feeling comfort in Mike’s arms. You stand up with everyone else and watch your brother and his wife walk hand in hand down the aisle, cheering and clapping loudly. After a few moments, you and Mike followed your family, grabbing his hand instinctively.

You find your seat at the table, set down your purse, and ask Mike if he wants a drink from the bar, making your way up front after he answers. You turn around with your drinks, stopping when you see your mom sitting next to Mike at your table.

‘Oh shit,’ you muttered to yourself, slowing your pace and hoping she’ll be gone by the time you make it back. You try to read her as you walk back, her face is soft as Mike speaks and suddenly they both start laughing. No one you’ve ever dated has ever made your mom laugh, she looked nice like that, you haven’t seen her like that since before her divorce.

You sit on the opposite side of Mike, handing him the glass. “Hi, Mom”

“Hi sweetheart, you look nice!”

“Thank you” You were stunned, you couldn’t remember the last time your mom complimented you.

“I was just talking to Mike, he’s the sweetest thing! He was just telling me about his sister. She sounds so cute.”

You looked over at Mike, who was smirking towards you. He stood up, telling you both he was going to find a bathroom, squeezing your shoulder softly as he left the table. You smiled at him and watched him walk away.

“I like him!” your mom finally spoke, once Mike got far enough away

“Really?”

“Of course, he’s handsome and he’s funny. He seems to like you. I think he’s a good fit for you,” you shivered at the nice comments from your mother, not often hearing such things. “You better not screw this one up.”

“Thanks, Mom, I won’t”

You smiled at her as she walked away telling you she was going to find your aunt to talk about how ugly the centerpiece arrangements your brother’s mother-in-law picked out were, you laughed, there was your mom.

You sat there alone with your thoughts. You were thinking about what would happen if you were actually with Mike. You could imagine coming home to him after work every morning, making him and Abby breakfast, and falling asleep with him after a long day. You don’t do that with Parker, you hardly see him, his job keeping him away from you for weeks at a time.

Mike sat back down, disrupting your thoughts. “How did I do?” motioning towards your mom, who was across the room rolling her eyes at something your aunt said.

“You did great, she really liked you. She didn’t say anything negative the whole time she was at the table!” Your eyes were wide, excited to tell Mike how the unusual interaction went.

Before he could reply, your brother and his wife walked into the room hand in hand, getting set in the middle of the dance floor to start the first dance. A slow song started to play, and they danced hand in hand, him twirling her around every once in a while. The song finished with a kiss, everyone cheering for them and they started to wave at everyone to come up and dance, the song changing to something more upbeat. You grab Mike’s hand, rushing to the middle of the room. You both started dancing, laughing at how bad dancers you both were.

Eventually, everyone was called back to the tables as dinner was about to start. You sat down next to Mike, taking a sip of your water, laughing about something he said as you both sat down.

“I’ve never danced like that before,” Mike said after finishing off his water, slightly out of breath

“God, me either. I’m exhausted and my feet hurt”

“You want me to rub them for you baby?”

“Maybe later,” you winked, smirking towards him.

Mike smirked back, knowing that he would hold you to that. He watched you all night, watching the way you danced, swaying your body to the beat of every song, slight sweat growing on your body, the way your eyes squinted and you threw your head back every time someone said something funny. You looked so beautiful and in your element, comfortable and confident.

~~~

After dinner you walked up to the DJ, whispering a request for him. He smiled, picked up a mic, and started to tap on it lightly, grabbing everyone’s attention.

“ladies and gentlemen, with dinner wrapping up, I’d like to slow it down just a little bit”

Like Real People Do by Hozier started playing.

Mike watched you walk back to the table, standing next to him putting your hand on his shoulder. “may I have this dance, sir?” you say holding out your hand, giggling to Mike.

“of course, m’lady,” Mike says, holding your hand and leading the way to the floor. He took one of your hands in his, his other one holding tightly on your waist. You both start to sway with the music, looking towards Mike who starts to speak.

“I think we’re going to be the only ones to dance to this song.” You looked around noticing everyone still placed in their seats, eyes glued toward you both.

You nodded, staying silent and continuing to move around. You move both of your hands up to his neck, interlocking your fingers behind his head, him holding you close at his waist.

You just stared at him in disbelief, days ago you remembered him telling you he doesn’t dance. Now here he was, slow dancing to your favorite song in front of your entire family. He looked into your eyes, they were softer than you’ve ever seen them. He looked comfortable, happy, relaxed. He looked towards your lips, licking his own.

‘Honey, just put your sweet lips on my lips,

we should just kiss like real people do.’

Using all the confidence you built tonight, you leaned your head forward to Mike’s, kissing him softly. Mike didn’t waste a moment, kissing you back with so much passion. This was the best kiss you’ve ever had. You both grinned at each other as you pulled away. You stepped closer to him, resting your head on his chest. All you could think about was his lips on yours, how you wanted this moment forever.

“Thank you for coming, I’m having a great time, and my family really likes you”

“I’m glad I could help, I’d do anything for you”

The song finished and you reluctantly pulled away from Mike, you heard a few people clap and you looked up from his gauze, noticing your family was grinning, smiling, throwing a few thumbs up in your direction. You laughed and bowed towards everyone, walking back towards the table.

“You want to go back to the hotel room?” Mike asked, taking the cue from a few of the other guests grabbing their belongings and saying their goodbyes.

“Yeah, let’s go” You grab your stuff and head up to the table where your brother and his best man are sitting, telling him to stand up to hug you goodbye.

You hugged your brother, giving him congratulations as you did so. He whispered in your ear before he let go. “I like him a lot more than Parker”

You just smiled and held a finger to your lips. “I do too but don’t spill my secrets”

You grabbed Mike's hand and walked to the front of the venue, he stopped you outside, bending down to take off your shoes knowing they weren’t very comfortable anymore. The small action makes you blush, thinking about how kind it was of him to remember the conversation from earlier. He held onto your shoes for you the entire walk down to the car, the cold grass feeling cool on your skin. He opened the car door for you, waiting for you to get in before shutting the door for you.

You were in our own world as he drove down the road to the hotel. You were thankful that Mike was here with you, you couldn’t imagine yourself being with anyone else right now and that was a problem. You had a someone else, who right now didn’t exist to you, and you racked your brain on the best way to end it. You in good conscience, couldn’t continue your relationship with Parker, ready to end it with a quick text right then and there and deciding to at least wait until the morning.

“Your brain okay?” Mike jokes, pulling you from your thoughts, “You’re thinking way to hard about something over there and you better not let it ruin your night, you’re mean when you’re cranky”

You giggle, looking into his coffee colored eyes, getting super serious grabbing his hand and squeezing, “Nothing could ruin tonight”

~~~

You threw yourself down on the bed, lying down while mumbling something about needing a shower. Mike set the overnight beds on the table in the corner of the room.

“You can take the first shower if you want Mike, I might take a nap while I wait”

Mike chuckled and started to collect his things for the shower, glancing over at you, laying on your back with your feet hanging off the bed, hand over your eyes to cover the light in the room.

Mike was sad the night was over, wanting to continue to be close to you in every way imaginable. He saw the strap of your dress had fallen on one side, the dress slightly raising higher and higher on your thighs with every swing of your legs.

“You know,” Mike started, You pulled your arm away from your face, turning your whole body to look at him, humming in response, “that massage is still on the table if you want one.”

You felt your body get hot, the thought of Mike rubbing all over your body started to turn you on, and you felt butterflies form in the pit of your stomach.

“If you’re willing, I wouldn’t turn you down.”

Mike moved across the room embarrassingly quickly, wanting to touch you before you changed your mind. You chuckled at his eagerness, knowing he wanted this as much as you did.

“Lie down on your stomach, I’ll give you the best massage of your life.”

You flip over on your stomach, arms crossed with your head resting on top of them. Your breath hitches when you feel Mike’s hand touch your calf, putting pressure down with his thumb making small circles.

You felt yourself relax at his touch, every grip of his hands pushing you into a frenzy. You hummed when you felt his hands move from your calf to your thigh, his grip getting stronger and tighter when he realized you weren’t going to stop him.

Mike heard your soft moans as he pressed into your skin. He loved hearing your sounds, he felt himself growing hard in his bottoms knowing he was making you feel so good. He moved to your back starting from the bottom of your back, headed towards your shoulder blades.

You leaned up to sit on your knees, making Mike stop in his tracks.

“Are you okay? Did I do something wrong?” seeing Mike upset and immediately thinking the worst, you put a comforting hand on his arm.

“No, it felt amazing, I just felt like something was in the way” You reach behind you, gripping the zipper of your dress and slowly pulling it down. You slipped the straps of the dress down, the top of the dress slipping below your breasts. You looked up at Mike, his eyes hooded and glossed over. ‘holy shit’ he says low, so low you can barely hear it.

“What's wrong baby, you’ve never seen boobs before?” You see the clogs in his brain turning, trying to form words, occasionally looking down from your face to take a quick glance at your exposed nipples, hardening in the cold air.

He leaned down to your face, his lips barely glazing yours, one hand coming up to cup your cheek, his other hand reaching to pinch your nipple, rolling it between his fingers. “Is this okay?”

You nod in response leaning forward, closing the gap between you two, kissing him with so much need. You let your hands travel to the buttons on his shirt, finishing and sliding the top down his shoulders.

Mike was quick, thinking about this moment one too many times, thinking about your boyfriend and how he’s going to make you forget about him, thinking about if this were the only opportunity he would ever get he would make sure to go all out, making sure you dream about him the way he does you.

He pulls away and pushes you down on the bed, he pulls the dress down your legs removing it the rest of the way and tossing it down to the floor. “Tell me if anything gets to be too much.”

“Fuck, you’re so sexy.” He toys with the lace on your underwear, leaning down to plant kisses on your thighs.

You feel his fingers move down to touch your clothed clit, rubbing softly. You push your hips up, feeling your body feel with need, wanting more.

You lace your fingers in his hair as he starts to leave hickeys on your sensitive thighs. “Fuck Mike I need-” You take a deep breath unable to formulate words.

Mike looks up from his place on your thighs, moving his head towards your pussy. “Tell me what you need, pretty girl.”

The name sent butterflies in every part of your body, you could feel yourself growing needier every second passed by. Your nipples were painfully hard and you could feel how soaked you were through your underwear. He continued to rub your clit, underwear molding to your shape.

You took a deep breath, tears starting to form at the corners of your eyes “Please more, I need you to touch me, however you want. just need more”

Mike pulled your underwear to the side, finally touching you, fingers falling from your clit to your dripping hole. “Look at this pretty pussy, s’all wet just for me?”

He pulled his finger away and placed it in your mouth, “Suck” You leaned forward sucking his fingers with everything you had, swirling your tongue around.

Mike looked up from your pussy, peeping up from his eyelashes to watch you suck his fingers. He was painfully hard, thinking about your mouth around his cock, eyes full of tears and drool dripping from your swollen lips.

He leaned down to lick from your hole to your clit, taking his time. He wanted you to know that you were the only thing on his mind, and you did, he started to eat you out like he was starved and this was his last meal. pulling you close until his hands gripped your thighs so hard you were sure to have bruises, nose rubbing your clit, everything adding up to the knot in your stomach.

“Fuck baby, you taste so fucking good. Could taste this pussy every fucking day.” You tugged on his curls harder, each word spurring you on, getting you closer and closer.

“Fuck baby, I’m so close”

He hummed and added a finger to your tight hole “You going to cum for me, baby? Cum on my mouth like a good girl, so good for me”

Your thighs squeezed him as you came, letting out a loud moan. He continued to lick and suck, drawing your orgasm out longer. It started to become too much and you pulled him back to face you. You kissed him, feeling his wet stubble on your face, reaching your hand down to his pants and rubbing your fingers over his clothed cock.

With shaking hands you started to undo his belt, flipping you both over until you were between his thighs. Pulling his pants down, Mike kicked them off, and you stared at him in awe at his size. You took him in his hand, starting to rub slowly, not breaking eye contact.

He grabbed your face, and squeezed your cheeks together, forcing your mouth open “Can I?” You stuck your tongue out in response, eyes full of lust.

Suddenly a long trail of spit left his and entered yours, “Use it, pretty girl” You kept your mouth sitting up on your knees to get face to face with his cock, and you let the mixture of spit fall from your mouth, making a mess on his lap. Your hand started to move quicker with the added lube, you leaned forward. Licking from the bottom all the way to the top, one of your hands leaving his thighs to make your way to his balls. You started to tease him and sucked only the tip, Mike's hips jerked forward in response, forcing you to take more in your warm mouth.

You started to pick up your pace, taking in as much as you possibly could his groans spurred you on to take even more, “‘s so fucking sexy seeing my dick in your mouth, want to fuck that throat so bad” He collected your hair into a makeshift ponytail, grip tight. You pulled off looking above you to see Mike’s tightly closed eyes, your hand replacing your lips, keeping pace with what you made with your mouth.

“Do it”

Mike opened his eyes quickly, “Are you sure?”

“Stand up and fuck my throat baby, ‘s alright”

Mike stood upright, keeping his grip on your hair as you shifted your body around to get comfortable.

“Just smack my leg if it gets to be too much pretty girl”

You nodded in response, wasting no time opening your mouth for his cock, placing both hands on his legs, gripping tight in preparation for what was about to come.

Mike went right to work, shoving in and out quickly, getting spurred on by the tears and sounds coming from you. Pushing your head back and forth in a bobbing motion, gagging every time he pressed as deep as possible.

“Look so pretty with my dick in your mouth” He pulled your mouth off him, and you moved your hand from his thigh to stroke him. He took a moment to look at your cockdrunk expression. Lips puffy, tear-stained cheeks, your chest breathing in and out heavily. “You going to let me cum in your mouth baby? Tell me, pretty girl, tell me what you want”

He felt your grip on his dick tighten, you moved one of your hands to touch yourself over your lace panties, feeling your wetness soaked through at his words. “Yes sir, want your cum in my mouth.”

You went right back to work, lips wrapping tightly around his dick. You gave him head as your life depended on it, needing to see how he looked while he came, what sounds he’d make, what mess he'd make.

You started to feel Mike’s hips falter, his once strong movements becoming staggered and you knew he was close. “Fuck- I’m coming. Fucking take it.” You looked up at him, dick pressed far down your throat, feeling the hot liquid start to seep out the sides of your mouth. “Swallow all of it. That’s my good girl”

Mike let go of the grip on your hair and pulled out of your mouth, wincing at the overstimulation. He pulled you up to lay on your back on the bed, leaning over you. You watched Mike’s fingers on your thigh, collecting the spilled cum that fell from your mouth, and placing them in his mouth. The salty liquid kept in his mouth until he leaned his lips towards yours, you opened your mouth with anticipation. A long string of cum filled spit falling into your eager mouth, gulping instinctively.

“Had to make sure you swallowed all of it” he murmured before pressing his lips roughly to yours. You laced your fingers around his neck, pulling him down further, needing to be closer to him. You moaned when he pulled away to start kissing your neck, sucking and biting to mark you up. He pulled your underwear off and started to rub his dick against you, feeling your hips joining him in the motions.

You were in a state of bliss, never even thinking this feeling was a possibility. Mike handling you like his own personal fuck toy, marking you up to show you off, his cock grinding against your clit like he was going to cum just like that. You push him off of you, flipping him over to get on top, straddling his thighs. You lined his dick up to your entrance, going at a slow pace to adjust to his size, stopping to steady yourself when you got to the end, hands on his chest with your eyes closed.

Mike was patient, as much as he wanted to destroy you and your tight pussy, he wanted you to feel good. He kept one hand on your hip, keeping you steady, moving the other one to your clit, trying to help get you comfortable. Almost immediately you moaned and started to move your hips, painfully slow up and down.

“You look so beautiful like this, stuffed full of my cock.” Mike’s hands moved to your hips, helping you move faster and faster. With your pretty tits in his face and your tight cunt wrapped around him, eyes rolling back in your head and your moans loud enough the entire hotel could hear you.

“Fuck daddy, you feel so fucking good” Mike groaned at your voice. The name causes him to rut his hips up to meet yours, causing you to fall forward, holding onto his shoulders. His pace was fast and rough, hands in a tight grip on your sides, nibbling on your neck as he pounds into you, bringing you closer and closer to your orgasm. “You going to cum on daddy’s cock? Let me feel you, baby, show me how good I make you feel.”

“Gonna cum daddy, s’ fucking good” You moan in his ear, nails digging into his skin as you come undone, mumbling a string of thank yous. Mike’s movements start to slow down, trying to give you a moment to recover.

With your breath heavy, you bring your lips to Mike’s as you slowly pull off of him. You pull away from the kiss and both hiss at the loss of contact, you sit up on your knees, locking your eyes with his own.

“Want you to bend me over,” Your voice is soft as you slowly start to bend over, arching your back “and make me take it hard.”

He is quick to get behind you, taking his dick in his hands and rubbing it up and down your wet slit. “my pretty fucking pussy” You push back at his teasing movements, clit pulsing and eyes rolling back.

“Mike please”, you beg. He brings his hand down and suddenly you feel a sharp sting on your ass, yelping in surprise. “Come on pretty girl, you can do better than that.”

“Daddy please, I need you- need your cock. Need you to fill me up and-” Your words were cut off, Mike pushing deep into you, moving quickly, causing you to lose your breath.

He grabs your hips and starts to pull you back onto him as he slams deep inside, hitting that spot inside you. “Fuck baby, taking it so good for me”

He grabs your hair in his hands, pulling your back to be flush to his chest. He nibbles at your earlobe and places his hand on your neck, squeezing lightly.

The feeling was unbearable, the room filled with deep breaths and skin on skin. Goosebumps cover your skin as Mike’s grip on your throat gets tighter. You could feel your orgasm approaching, tears forming in your eyes.

“Taking me so well baby” You moan, his praise pushing you closer. “Tight little pussy fits so well around my cock”

“Fuck- ‘m cumming” You feel your body unravel, thighs shaking as you start to see spots. Mike lets you go and you fall forward. He gives you three deep thrusts before his pace starts to fall, signaling he’s close. “Me too baby, me too”

He gives one last deep push and releases deep inside you. You both lay there for a few moments, panting and euphoric. He groans as he pulls out and you turn to lie on your side, watching him as he walks to the bathroom. He comes back with a warm washcloth, wiping you down. He sets it on the table once he’s finished and sits down beside you, moving your head so it can rest in his lap as he starts to play with your hair.

You lean up to kiss him, biting his lip as you pull away, smiling to yourself as you notice he’s growing hard again. You stand up, legs slightly wobbly. “Care to join me?” you smirked towards him as you sauntered towards the bathroom, hips slightly swinging. Mike watches as you walk away, eyes lingering all over your body. You turned to face him as you reached the doorway, waiting for him to follow you.

“We’re definitely going to take advantage of the late checkout” He chuckles as he stands from his spot to start round two in the shower.

[alexxncl]

‼️NIGHTBRINGER LESSON 58 SPOILERS‼️

masterlist | all lessons | season 3 | lesson 57.1 | lesson 57.2 | lesson 58.2 | lesson 59

throwing us back into the SF after the last lesson's cliffhanger was indeed a choice

i wanted him so become a demon so bad y'all don't understand 💔 i'm happy that they didn't do a full 180 and turn him back into an angel though bc his fall was so pivotal to his character arc

this is actually really interesting. i wonder how much of his angel-ness is in his genetic/physical makeup, too, considering the fact that he still has demonic genes despite never fully turning into one

i feel like the different sets of genes battling for power also explains why he seemed emotionally off and physically sick when we found out he was turning into a demon. maybe he was like 95% human and 5% angel up until a certain point

we know that mammon's skin has burns on it from the celestial jewelry he used to wear, so maybe their angelic genetic makeup got physically and chemically destroyed during their fall. maybe simeon's body still had some kind of angelic genetic makeup until he started turning into a demon, and then the demonic genes destroyed whatever angelic part was left of him

either the celestial realm didn't know about what would happened to simeon when he became human and spent excessive time in the devildom, or they didn't care and wanted him to suffer the possibility of transforming into one due to overexposure as an extra cruel punishment

part of me wants to believe that they didn't know bc of the way raphael reacted, but i still don't trust michael. at ALL.

idk i'm yapping

i still want simeon to turn into a demon but i don't want him to have to go through the physical and emotional pain it takes to get there. but i also don't want him to suffer through not able to physically be there for raph and luke bc he don't he allowed back in the celestial realm if he's a demon. UGH

ahhhh yes i love it when the stakes are raised

but are they really raised when we know that simeon's not gonna die? probably...hopefully

idk maybe that teaser really did mean something...

i'm very glad that it isn't just a one-and-done kinda solution though. that makes it more engaging

see every time i wanna praise him for thinking of something smart and sweet and kind he ALWAYS has to bring a profit into the situation 😭 this mf

also "fartin' around" ?? (i can't believe i just typed that) LET MY MAN SAY FUCK. we all know it's what he meant

beel just like me bc my dumbass didn't know what the fuck a manchineel was. googled it to see if it was a real word

if y'all could've heard the sigh i just let out 😭 it's okay though. it's fine

i'm a little less mad bc it's what simeon himself said that he wants. even though he said he never really felt like an angel in the way that the rest of the celestial realm angels did but whatever. i think he's doing it in part because he does miss being an angel, but mainly because he wants to be able to be there for luke and raphael after seeing how his transformation affected them, and he won't be able to be there in the way that he wants or the way that they need him to be if he's not an angel, or at least allowed in the celestial realm

honestly if he turns into a demon atp it's just the devs fucking with him just bc they like to torture his character 😭 like imagine the potion is something that reveals someone's "innermost desires" or the race that their soul is destined to be and he ends up not being an angel ??? luke especually would be devastated

the fact that they have to go all the way back to the cave where they met cerberus to find the last ingredient feels kinda full circle. i feel like they knew the game was ending here

bc why else would the apple be in a place that solidified the brothers' positions and status into what we know them as in the present day

this also makes me kinda sad bc there was so much potential to explore the time paradox shit they alluded to all throughout the game

from the characters in the past feeling like the guest room was a second home

to the brothers in the past feeling intrinsically connected to mc despite never having seen them before

to the characters in the present feeling like they hadn't seen mc in months and crying uncontrollably for seemingly no reason

and now this...

i did the other option too just to see what levi's reaction was and GOD i wish we had more than 2 lessons left

are they gonna make barbatos time travel to get the apple? what if they travel to the exact time that mc and the brothers went there and the gang ends up seeing mc in the past through barbatos' portal? UGH i wish they did more with the time travel stuff it would've been so cool

[twistedwonderlandshenanigans]

Random HC's About The Cast's Parents

As it sounds. Other Family Headcanons can be found here. Warning, some of these are angsty, including reference substance abuse. Also no Diasomnia bc. like I need to WAIT, no spoilers please

Heartslaybul Parents

Carlotta Rosehearts owns dozens and dozens of health and medical textbooks, but before she let Riddle read them, she went over passages that she didn't agree with in Sharpie.

The Clovers were high-school sweethearts, Trey having been conceived when his mom was 16. Her side of the family is from Harveston. After his father was disowned by his family, her mom let them move in. As a community they raised enough money to help them open a small bakery in the Queendom of Roses, supplying them with free apples for the first few years until they were well established.

Regina Diamond and her (name undecided) husband got into a relationship early on in college, and got married only four weeks later as his family was well off and happy for him to have found someone, and she had made up a sob story about her family disowning her when she had really been the one to cut off her very concerned, very caring family. Their relationship became sour very quickly, but he didn't feel like he could leave once she revealed she was pregnant with their eldest daughter.

Delia Spade's late husband was also her high school sweetheart, but they waited a few years before deciding they wanted their family to grow. She hated that he was in the military, so when he was called to serve a month into her pregnancy, she had a sinking feeling that she wouldn't be seeing him again...and she was right. At least with the military, when Deuce was born deaf/hoh she had a little bit of extra support financially, but ultimately decided she would rather not have ties with the organization that cost her child's father's life. She moved in with her late husband's mother for the first four years of Deuce's life, until she found a small house she could afford on her own for her and Deuce.

Clark Trappola is a severe alcoholic with a gambling problem. Jack (Ace's big brother) spent most of his at home life acting as a buffer between his dad and Ace. Their father blames the loss of their mother on Ace's birth, so they do not get along. For the years that Jack was at NRC, Ace spent crashing at other friends houses, or when he absolutely had to, in the attic of his house because he knew their dad wouldn't find him up there. (Jack helped him renovate it before he left). As soon as Jack graduated, he was able to find a place to rent with a few other graduates, and let Ace move in. Savanaclaw Parents

We already know that the Kingscholars were not the most attentive or fair of parents, but Leona had a maid named Lesedi who absolutely adored him, and treated him like it. He adores her, and sees her as more of a maternal figure than his biological mother. She's very old and retired now, but she is the first person he sees willingly when he gets home, and has made sure she is given the highest quality of care the royal family has to offer. She's also very blunt and to the point, and was never afraid of disciplining the young prince.

Ruggie was raised by his grandma, but that was because his lesbian mothers were....one of them cheated and he was living proof. Ultimately, his mother decided she couldn't care for him the way he deserved to be cared for and gave him to her own mother.

Jack's parents couldn't be more polar opposite of each other. His mother is tiny, she has really thick, curly hair, very expressive, and pretty eccentric. His father is rather stoic and hard to read, always having a rather unimpressed look on his face. and built like a tank. His dad used to be a pro wrestler, but now he's part of a motorcycle "gang" that rides to raise money for amputee/accessibility inclusivity and rights, and his mom hosts art shows for the same reason. This is because Jack's aunt- (his Dad's brother's sister) was in an accident that resulted in her prosthetic arm. Octavinelle Parents

Azul was raised by his mother and his grandma (insert dark joke about his mom and grandma having eaten their mates) who absolutely ADORE him, he can do no wrong. His grandma's UM is called Siren's Song, which allows her to pick up on the true desires of an individual...which in turn allows her to offer the most appealing services to them, or how to make someone so driven just by indulging in the desires they have. His mom is magicless, but has the most gorgeous voice under the sea. The restaurant under the sea is also connected to a casino, which has a lot of the Leech's uh...Help to run.

The Leech parents are adorable, childhood friends to lovers, and yes they have a vial of each others blood on a string around their necks because that's what you do if you really love each other right? They're unhinged in everything, including the way they love. Jade takes after his father, Floyd takes after his mother. Scarabia Parents

Kalim's parents....well his mother, Adrika, was and is very doting but gets easily distracted. She is heavily involved in the textiles industry of the Scalding Sands. While she could leave tailoring and whatnot to her servants, for Kalim, she chooses to create all of his formal (?) outfits for him from scratch. She always manages to hide an tiger face in the stitching somewhere so as to give him a little extra surprise to look forward to.

Jamil doesn't consider his parents to be his parents. They've treated him like a tool since he was young, and he practically raised Najma on his own while they worked. He understands the sacrifices they had to make, but can't excuse the way he was treated. He treats them like acquaintances, and because of this, the little Jamil in my brain does not want to tell me anything about his parents. Pomefiore Parents

Vil's father is not only famous for directing (or whatever it is in canon), but he's a famous classical music compose (yes bc for some reason I immediately associated him with Eric Whitacre shhhhhh)

Rook's parents are both extreme hoarders. He hates talking about himself or home as a result. The siblings he has, he's never met because of the age gap between him and them being over 16 years. He used to pretend he would go on trips around the world with them as a means of escaping his reality.

Tanya and Adam Felmeir have an annual tradition to celebrate their wedding anniversary. They've always wanted to include Epel as a part of it, so at the beginning of the year he assigns them an animal, and by the time their anniversary rolls around they've both made tiny hand-carved figurines of said animal. The past few years have been difficult for his mother as she has been battling an undiagnosed illness, so he's been her hands and sits and carves with her until she's happy with the product so she still has something nice to give to her husband, Ignihyde Parents

Mama Shroud used to be part of a different research lab for blot, investigating the effects of blot on the human body more than the progression of blot and how to contain it. Her parents and Idia's paternal grandparents lowkey pushed their kids to Chat. As they did, they realized that they found each other's research fascinating and resulted in years of pining between the two of them until Mama Shroud finally just kissed her now husband. Also, Idia is not their first born child, he's just the one that survived. Diasomnia Parents I ain't getting into this sorry. I'm sorry. I can't. No spoilers of my queen in the tags ok?? or of anything chapter 7 related. Thank You

[swifty-fox]

❝  you’ve stolen my heart,  the least you could do is tell me what you intend to do with it.  ❞ for Outlaw AU bc it’s cheesy but I can see Bucky being cheesy and also theft outlaw au etc etc it all comes together

ohh i got so many prompts for this au where. Sorry this one got a little saucy.

read here!

"So what went wrong?"

They're camping just outside of Abilene, Texas. Pulled off the road into the desert and spread atop several old blankets John had fished out from the depths of the back seat. John's head is pillowed on Gale's stomach, rising and falling with his breaths and Gale wonders if he can hear the sounds of their last meal being worked over. He wonders if it's gross, but John seems content enough, hair sticking to the back of his neck with sweat and shirt bunched awkwardly up around his neck like a scarf to cool off.

It'll be cold come nightfall, especially with winter racing them westwards, but for now the evening heat is still an oppressive blanket. Gale has his braid twisted in his free hand, trying to keep as much of the heavy weight away from his skin as possible.

"I got shot is what," John mumbles, ashing his cigarette just past Gale's hip.

The hand Gale had been scratching through John's curls drags down John's shoulder and torso to finger at the near-perfect round scar nestled just above his left hip, smaller in on the back entry, a little wider on the exit round the front. John grunts slightly, though there's no way the scar could still be painful and Gale worries his thumb over it in small circles.

"You told me to never do daytime hits."

"If you wanted a rule-follower you shouldn't have run off with an outlaw, doll."

There's a pile of candy by Gales hip, twizzlers and sour skittles and dumdums. He plucks one at random, unwrapping the tiny lollipop and humming as sour apple flavor blooms across his tongue, makes a face and passes it off to John instead. The second is cotton candy and he works it over his teeth just to hear the click.

"I woulda run off with or without you. Just woulda ended up dead in a ditch in one scenario."

John shifts uncomfortably, rolling so they were face-to-face. His brow is furrowed, lips pinched. He's a good man, well-raised and well-mannered despite it all. Tender in ways Gale thinks was carved out of himself long ago, "No, you would have figured it out."

Gale strokes a thumb under John's eye, brushes across his lips until they relax into something less sad. He presses a kiss to the exposed jut of Gale's hipbones, nuzzles the tease of curls there and nibbles at the waistband of Gale's briefs.

Fingers knotting in reprimand behind John's ear, Gale bites back a whimper, "I'm not having this conversation with you with my dick in your mouth."

"Is it a conversation?" John asks, the sound of Gale's zipper loud in the night.

"Bucky."

John sighs heavily, drops his head back on Gale's stomach with a put-out air. Gale tries to ignore the way his breath puffs over the suddenly tight fabric of his jeans.

"There was a kid," John finally says, "A little kid and his brother. And I froze. They don't need to see that shit, you know? That's why I do nights. No innocents."

"You were standing in front of kids and the clerk shot at you?"

"Yeah," John spits in only the way an older sibling could, "Piece of shit."

They're silent for a while, John returning to licking the sweat from Gale's hipbones. Probably, they'll have sex, Gale thinks. It's just a question of when one of them will muster the energy to retrieve the lube and roll of condoms from the center console.

John's straddling him, thighs over his hips and sucking red kisses along Gale's chest when he sits up straight and fixes Gale with a calculating look. Gale watches him stare, content to let the other man work through his thoughts.

"You wouldn't have," John finally says.

"Wouldn't have what?"

"Frozen," John laves his tongue across the peaked bud of Gale's nipple, tweaks the wet skin after, "Would you ever get this pierced?"

"Focus. Please."

"That's the whole thought, you wouldn't have frozen if you saw those kids."

"What're you saying?"

John sits back with a sigh and fixes him with another look. The muscles of his arm flex sweetly as he brushes the hair off his forehead, "You got a cooler head than I've ever had. You don't freeze."

Gale thinks of the home he grew up trapped in and shakes his head, "I freeze plenty."

"Hmm," John answers, pushing up off of Gale's prone body and stretching his arms toward the empty sky, "No."

"No, what? Can y'quit bein' cryptic for one minute?"

John grins at him, eyes crinkling to vanishing, and offers a hand to haul Gale up, "No."

"I'm going to get the condoms," Gale says, "Get a handle on your lunacy in the meantime."

It doesn't surprise him that John's arms wrap around his waist while he's rifling through the mess of the car. They needed to clean it out, badly, and he doesn't pause in his quiet muttering when John's broad hand drags across his stomach.

"You'd be a better thief than me, if you tried."

Gale snorts, "Name one thing I've stolen that hasn't been a plan hatched by you."

"You stole my heart," John murmurs against his neck.

"Oh for-" Gale finally locates a single elusive condom under the passenger seat, "Jesus, John."

Bucky hums, tugging Gale out of the belly of the Corolla and pressing him against the closed backseat door, "I mean it," He insists, bumping their noses together and grinning, "The least you could do is tell me what you're gonna do with it."

Gale tilts his head back to allow for the kisses trailed down his neck, sighs up at the stars and allows himself to smile close-mouthed and faint, "I'm going to eat it, if you're not careful."

"That's hot," John remarks, falling to his knees in the dust

[theosconfessions]

How does Scarlett, a fifteen year kid, hold so much power that she can manipulate so many people? I mean Theo I can see he's binded by the fact she's his baby but Dustin? River? Blake? I can see maybe Riv and Blake since they're not much older but Dustin? If he knows how alike she is to Theo he should never have agreed to let Scarlett do this show. He's the parent and supposedly the one she likes but she sure doesn't seem to have respect for him or anyone else. Dustin was asking for trouble for going along with it and I don't feel so bad for him because he knew Scarlett couldn't be trusted and now he's paying for it along with everyone else.

The apple doesnt fall far from the tree at all ;) scarlett and theo are kindred that way. but you also have to remember way back in theo lore is that he was married pretty young. [before marlee ] and he manipulated and used that girl and never really gave her a second thought or how he cheated and fucked with her emotions and life until she popped up again through dustin. and by then he needed something from her. for her to carry dustin and his babies. present theo is in his sixties and is not that much of a dick as he once was BUT man he was . selfishness runs in the genes. i thinkpersonally scarlett was blinded about what the show can do for her. and her popularity and that everyone else be damned. i dont htink she gave dustin a second thought or really thought he could be 'hurt' by anything. all she seen was how using theo could gain her that attention she wanted. unfortunately that came with backlash. which she will get. but for river hes very much not involved in the project hes a non social media kid but he did know that blake was helping her out with it. and he was pulled in because of that. blake went along with whatever scarlett said because she really does have something over him and riv that could hurt his friend. riv doesnt know this. [hopefully i can squeeze that post in today. he has a convo with dustin about it bc dustin was like okay i dont believe you lol] riv wasnt watching so he doesnt know what he came home to haha! robin was watching though and shes on theos side. not scarletts. theos a little bit of an idiot for his kid for sure. i think he feels like he has to coddle her a little bit bc of marlee etc. but because of that she played him. shes a smart kid but shes also not a very nice one. at least in the moment. i think with dustin , shes also HIS baby. he raised her ya know. and that was his youngest until they had the twins. i think he also has that same soft spot and wanted to believe in her a little bit but now hes likeyeah not making that mistake again obviously. their whole business was put on out there. that being said theo overshared. and thats on him. he shouldnt have openedhis mouth AT ALL. so he has some penance himself to do , thank you for your ask, love! i hope this makes sense bc i kinda rambled? if not lemme know. sorry for the length haha

[misc-obeyme]

And when Barbatos does get his full power back? I can only imagine he continues to be a butler (at least part-time!) bc he actually kinda enjoys it. Something about the idea of “Deities Serving Their People Helps Grow Their Power And Secure Their Immortality” is a cool idea to me.

Fixing up the town does raise the question, why don’t the royals just pay for it? But I think it’s simply the matter of “Dad doesn’t like my idea and won’t financially support me or my friends, so I’m on my own money-wise”? Which I’m sure Dia is okay with that because it just means it’s going to bring people together to work towards a common goal!

Levi confirmed hardest marriage candidate lol! I know in some farm sims there are second towns, or import shops. And you know how in stardew, part of the bedroom changes to accommodate for the spouse’s interests? Maybe a special marriage requirement for Levi is Internet Connection. Which in real life, it’s difficult to get any signal out in rural areas. If I were forced to live in a rural area, I’d probably marry the person with the strongest wifi too skdjfnjinvsd /hj

Maybe to accommodate for lack of gifts, you could also ask your chosen bachelor/ette to hang out, or you could go on certain quests for them? Many Farm Sims, in my experience, don’t explore other love languages beyond Gift Giving, and I don’t think I’ve seen a mechanic like “Quality Time” outside of cutscenes. They could be like multiple-choice events. It could help with characters like Levi and Satan, who you could take to the “local pub/community hall’s arcade corner” or “the huge library in the next town over”. As for quests, one example comes to mind like, Belphie wants sushi for dinner, but this farming town doesn’t have anything fancy like that, so you have to create three or five different sushi dishes, three of each, for the whole family. Everyone gets two hearts, but Belphie will get like five hearts or smth like that. OR! Not just building a library/museum for the town but also filling it up with books and mining artifacts, and it keeps building on Satan’s hearts! Or doing favours for the Little D’s so they can magically fix up the arcade corner of the pub/community hall. Just to toss out a few examples!

I like feathers! Or maybe the token can be something personalized that you can’t just buy or craft normally? Or MAYBE the marriage token could be like… A magic golden apple? In the OG game there’s a significance behind apples, especially between Diavolo and Lucifer (spoilers I won’t get into for everyone’s sakes)! A magic golden apple could be small enough to make into a necklace pendant, and will never rot (probably inedible anyway lol). It could be anything really.

Also I don’t see any issue with keeping the demon/angel elements. They could still be mixed into the game. I can see pacts turning into benefits, like a pact with Asmo can help you charm animals or collect hearts faster, or a pact with Mammon can bring more wealth for your crops! Maybe a full 10-heart friendship with Luke could give you the ability to heal your animals of illness! Though things like that could be less magical if most characters were human, which I also don’t see a problem with. Like maybe a Max Friendship with Satan could unlock a Barn Cat minigame where you can catch rodents and stave off the need to repair animal stables, or Max Friendship with Levi makes the fishing minigame ten-times easier, or unlocks a Charmed Golden Fishrod.

I have no experience in game development, but I would definitely make a fangame free for everyone to play if I could! I might just draw some concepts for funsies tho!

Okay, I love all of this!

Barbatos getting more powerful just by helping his people out? Yes forever.

And I think the family disapproval thing is a theme in some of the games, too. Like in Trio of Towns, the MC has to prove to their dad that they can even be a farmer to begin with and they have to do all these stupid checklists for him. So I could easily see it being like Dia's dad doesn't approve, so you're on your own, but together we can prove that it's doable!

Okay I love all the ideas you have about marriage candidates and gifts and such. Because I personally have never played a game where the only way to get them to love you was gift giving and festival participation. And the emphasis has always been most on gift giving. I love the idea of there being like specific quests or other such things that somehow incorporate the person's interests. Someone get Levi that internet connection!

Oh I like the apple! It really could be so many different things lol!

And yeah I was initially thinking the pacts in place of the marriage token, but I much prefer that like once you get to full hearts, you can make a pact with the demons. And then for all the characters, these different things give you different perks! I loooove that!

I also have zero game development experience, all of my knowledge comes only from playing games lol! I'd love to see any drawings you do, though!

[polypomefiore]

Actually, now that I think about it, a potential sequel to garden of delights which centers around the children of Vil and Malleus (alongside other children who were born from Rook and Epel) escaping from Briar Valley and journeying into the unknown world in search of their nymph parents Vil, Rook, and Epel, who escaped a couple years ago (maybe around ten or so years). 

Of course the journey isn’t going to be easy, since these children and young teens (you can decide what ages they are if you want) were sheltered their whole entire lives and are thus very naive about the outside world. But thankfully, they would have at least have strong magic and valuable traits that they picked up from their nymph parents (for example, one of Vil’s kids, who would also be the eldest and leader of the group, would inherit his ability to grow poisonous flowers while one of Rook’s kids would have inherited his stealth and archery skills) which would be useful in avoiding potential dangers such as thugs or briar valley guards sent to look for them. 

Along the way, the children would encounter the other former pets of malleus, such as Leona and Ruggie who have both settled down in a small village, and the octotrio who now own a seaside tavern/bar, who would give them important clues or hints about their parents whereabouts.

And after a long journey, the children arrive at a small apple farming village. After asking around for a bit, they are pointed in the direction of a particular farm near the outskirts of the town. When the children arrive at the farm, they are a little nervous. Doubts and questions would be raised amongst them as the eldest child nervously walks up to the front door. What if this was the wrong house, or what if their parents didn’t want them? But, they have already made it this far, so they couldn’t turn around now. The eldest would gently knock on the door, which erected a few faint sounds of shuffling and murmuring from inside, typical things you’d expect to hear from someone not expecting visitors. A few seconds later, the door is opened by a young man with light purple hair who looks like he had just seen a ghost. From behind, someone asks who’s at the door before two more older men approach from behind, who after seeing the children standing on their front step, immediately stop dead in their tracks in stunned silence. The tension is high as the eldest child introduces himself and his younger siblings, stuttering a little over his words from nervousness. 

Just when it seems as though the children would be rejected and their journey all for nothing, Vil’s eyes fill with tears as he wraps his first child in a tight hug, with Rook and Epel doing the same thing afterward to their own children. A few seconds later, a few younger kids, one of them looking to be a mere toddler, come out of the house, curious to what’s going on to which Vil, with tears of joy, happily introduces them to their long lost older siblings.

oh anon this is so sweet sobs. and the children meeting the other former pets along the way would be interesting! they’d have to convince them they don’t wanna hurt them and theyd have to get little side quests to get them to help knsnsnshsjsj

they’d be so naive tho…their mamas immediately pulling them inside bc they traveled across pyroxene and briar valley??? alone?? they’d talk all night abt their adventures before going to bed and helping out on the farm…hopefully mal is too busy with kingly duties to look for them….

[shmowder]

the comfort hcs too! those got me feeling so warm and happy and like everything’s gonna be ok. so here’s ur reminder that everything will be ok for u, too!! -🥀

omfg I'm so glad you liked the comfort hcs! It felt personal in a way when I wrote it bc of the state I was in.

I originally planned to Include Stackh too but my energy is barely enough to match up to my vision. I didn't want to delay posting it more so I decided to just simply cut out his content and leave it as Artemy and Daniil.

Both sections are my favourite, Daniil struggling to overcome what he has been taught all his life in order to help you. To be loved is to be changed and all of that.

Meanwhile Artemy is brimming with love just anticipating the chance to drown you in it. The kin being in touch with their own emotions and having a tight knit community, extremely emotionally intelligence and caring for one another. Isidor managing to pass that notion down to Artemy despite all of his others sins, how having a soft heart protected him from the same brutal Captial which shattered Daniil's heart time after time until he vowed to never ever be vulnerable again.

Because it is so fitting for academia at the time to be ignorant of emotional intelligence and humanities. How the kin ensured that knowledge is passed down from generation to generation, holding hospitality at the same tier of importance as medical science and Menkhu knowledge.

They're still humans, they still have their bad apples and all. But if you think about it logically, how could a society built on human sacrifices not come trampling down? How are the herb brides okay with being wedded to the earth? They are someone's daughter, someone's sister and friend.

Because of selflessness. Everyone involved in the process understands, truly understands what's at stake here and can see the bigge picture. They have the herb brides to thank for their food, for the swyrve and twyrine, for keeping the magic alive in an age of technological evolution. And it's that understanding mixed with the fact they still allow themselves to grief losing someone so dear whilst respecting the importance of their job is what separates them from the town folks who view their ways as barbaric and horrible.

The idea that every society has its flaws. Didn't the townfolks raise the prices of food so much and left people starving on the streets? What about the people inable to afford medicine and passed away because of it? At least the herb brides choose this volunteerly to keep the rest of the kin well fed, warm and healthy.

The Menkhu never charge for their services, how could they when the herbs come from the earth? From the blood and sacrifice of herb brides? The Kin have an economy of trading where item's aren't just appeased on their materialistic value but also sentimental value.

It's so easy to brush them off as primitive society and miss the lessons embedded within their culture. If they wanted to migrate to the modern society they easily could, they simply don't want to. Why trade their world of magic and miracles to a dull world built on a facade and a game of masquerade? Why abandon the notion that they are loved eternity for the idea that you live alone and you die alone? At best, it's childish cynicism in their eyes.

It takes a whole village to raise a child after all, and the love Artemy borrowed in his youth was given back tenfolds after.

-

Yeah, you're right. Everything will be okay, it will just take a while.

Yk that phrase "laugh and the world laughs with you, cry and you cry alone?" Little cheesy but I really took it to heart. I fear that if I don't get up and dust off, people will move on without me.

Life doesn't wait for anyone, grief is in abundance these days. I try to balance back the scales a bit by not supressing everything all the time, art, music, creativity and dancing do help actually. Things which substitute for another person's comfort.

It's what I'm used to and all that I knew. Maybe I'm so in love with the love the Kin share because I'm envious of it, I too wish to have been a part of a society that unconditionally loved one another rather than one sowing toxic independence. I feel ashamed for asking for help or showing someone my vulnerability, suffocating bitter shame.

But I promise I'm not rushing my healing by coming here, writing genuinely helps. I write my best stories when I'm at my lowest, ironically enough. It's a nice way to vent my emotions through fictonal dolls and imaginary scenarios.

I feel useful too, in a way, when people are thankful after a request is done. I wish I could complete them faster, I only have so much energy and hours per day.

Thank you for this wonderful conversation! and for all the sweet messages. You really were like an angel to me today because my god were the voices getting loud in my head then I saw your ask and felt relief.

I hope your day is amazing, I hope you receive a similar relief about something in your life <3

[doycngs]

bet! | lee jeno.

summary. it was bound to bite both your asses eventually. just plain ‘ol comedic luck that you and your best friend’s shared tradition of petty bets get you two to finally cough up years of repressed feelings for one another. 

pairing. y/n x nct’s jeno

genre. college!au, best friends to lovers!au

word count. 17k

warnings. swearing, fem!reader, underage drinking, emotional constipation lmao, hyuck and yeri hustle often, general dreamies tomfoolery, hyuck and nana are like dumb and dumber, honestly just super chaotic since it’s slice of life :)

taglist. @donutswithjaminthemiddle @dvickyyy @jenosbliss @matryoooshka @luvenshiti @nap-of-a-starr @dojun00 @nctdom @yangsbff @bockhyun

i feel like i did a pretty bad job rounding this fic up, my bad… still hope this lives up to the hype from the teaser! to those tagged, many hugs and kisses!! tysm for the interest <3

also biggest thank you to yunn aka @kdyism for being my beta reader and just being super helpful on absolutely everything for this fic! it def got finished faster bc of ya, much love bun :3

“WAS HE DROPPED on the head when he was a kid?” 

You can’t help the snort that passes your lips, making a satisfying slap to Jeno’s arm. “Don’t be mean.” 

“You didn’t answer my question.” Jeno raises an eyebrow.

“Eh… maybe like once or twice. Not that I would know, I was the same age as him but I’m just guessing.” 

You two continue to watch the disaster in front of you befold. Hyuck was currently bothering Yeri. Apparently, he didn’t know the limits as to when to stop because the older senior’s ears are burning red. You’re sure if you were in a cartoon right now, Yeri would have smoke coming out of them, nostrils flaring. 

“Should we intervene?” You side-eye Jeno and he’s the least bit concerned, eyes blearily watching the soon-to-be wreck happen in slow motion, cheek squished against his palm. 

“Nah. This is way more entertaining than continuing my stats homework.” 

You peer over his notebook and he has the word problem and equation written down. Humming, you bring your attention back to the stars of the show and see Yeri grip her notebook tighter, knuckles going white. 

“Here we go.” You sing, Hyuck’s screams of protest soon alerting everyone in the campus plaza of his pain. 

“He never learns his lesson, huh?” Renjun finally joins, his boots making the fall leaves on the ground crunch. Throwing his book bag on the table, it scrunches Jeno’s current page in his statistics work but the latter doesn’t care. 

The two of you nod simultaneously. You and Jeno halfheartedly discouraged Hyuck from going to poke at Yeri around five minutes ago, soon after the three of you had sat down at your usual spot under the only weeping willow tree on campus. It was honestly impressive how quickly your mutual friend could annoy someone so quickly. 

“We should time him next. See how long it takes for Yeri to lash out at him.” You mutter the idea, Jeno pursing his lips after the two shift left and right around Yeri and company’s picnic table, a textbook held high in Yeri’s nimble fingers. Wendy and Seulgi are ducking as Irene begins trying to stop the madness, scolding Joy for cheering on their youngest.

“Not a bad idea to be honest. Bet?” Jeno grins and you shake on his hand without looking at him. 

“Bet.”

It was just getting good. Hyuck doesn’t have the endurance to continue but Yeri does. Pilates has done her well. 

Renjun quirks an eyebrow, pulling out his laptop as an apple slice is shoved into the corner of his mouth. “You don’t even know the conditions of the bet yet.” 

You shrug, thoroughly entertained as Hyuck sits on his knees, his hands rubbing together furiously as he begs for mercy. “Next time, he gets Yeri to go after him in under two minutes.” 

“I say three.” Jeno nods and he offers a hand again which you shake. 

“You underestimate that little lady’s body. She can hold a lot of anger.” 

Jeno hums in response, ending the conversation quickly as Hyuck stumbles his way over, a pout sat on his lips. The well-beaten idiot rubs at his forearms, mumbling curses under his breath as he plops down beside Renjun. 

“Didn’t end well, did it bud?”

At the smug expression you have plastered on, Hyuck’s pout deepens. “It’s not funny. I need her to partner with me in Psych. I’ll go fucking crazy if I actually have to work with Felix.” 

“Felix’s a sweetheart. I don’t know why you have it out for him.” 

Hyuck rolls his eyes, running his hands through the ruffled brown strands. Yeri managed to grab a bunch of pine needles and aim correctly enough, even with the air resistance the leaves have. 

Renjun beside him plucks a long green one out the battered boy who’s seated beside him, slouched over on the picnic table. “You can’t have two eggheads who don’t pay attention in class paired together. Isn’t that so, Hyuck?” Renjun baby-voices, the latter placing his chin on his stacked wrists to glare. 

“Somebody’s cranky.” Chenle swings by, a childish smirk gracing everybody’s presence. 

“It’s justified.” Hyuck huffs, turning away from the new arrival. You scoot over, bumping into Jeno’s large body to allow Chenle to sit. 

“Why are you so meaty nowadays? Take a break from the gym, will you? We can barely fit eight people at this table as it is.” There’s playful malice in your voice but a little truth in there. The asshole was getting too bulky for your liking. 

“Oh please. Mark hardly swings by for lunch with us anymore. And why by chance are you bothered by me bulking up?” Jeno leans closer, eyes impossibly close to yours, “Are you swooning yet?” 

Ignoring your heart racing faster, you slap a palm to his forehead, pushing Jeno further away from your face. “No, I’m sick of these freshies asking me for your number, that’s why. You want to know how many have asked for your digits indirectly through me this entire week?” 

Chenle and Renjun have suddenly started bickering about something and you have to raise your voice a little. 

“Five. Five people. Four girls and one guy. I’d be proud of you if it weren’t for the annoyance starting to kick in.” Jeno raises his eyebrows at the number, finally flattening down his stats paper. 

“And what’d you tell ‘em?” Jeno bites distractedly at the cap of his pen, seeming to hit the realization his work has to get done by midnight. 

“That they should ask you themselves,” You’re rolling your eyes, nudging at Chenle to back off on his squishing, practically half his body across the table to try and snatch at Renjun’s sliced apples, “I’m kind of sick of your posse trying to scour me for your personal information.” 

“Get your own, dingus! We get our rations per month at the commons!”

“I’m not giving up a precious coupon just to get one apple slice, come on!” 

“Tell them to stop then.” Jeno tries to solve.

You laugh incredulously, watching Jeno’s concentrated (confused more like) side profile. “You think that deters them? They regenerate into different people every week. The message is not passed on from generation to generation apparently.” 

Jeno makes that endearing ‘huH?’ sound and you grab at the notebook yourself, having taken Statistics 101 before. He thanks you under his breath, which you nod at before Jeno slumps onto your shoulder, sighing heavily. 

“Sorry. I know it bothers you. I would go around and tell them to back off of you and me personally but I don’t know all their names.”

Glancing at Jeno, it irritates you helplessly that you know he’s not even trying to sound dickish. He’s just that sweet and kind of a guy that makes other people not want to talk to him and ask those types of questions themselves. You know those people that seem too perfect to want to approach? Yeah, that’s Lee Jeno in a nutshell. If you looked up the definition of that type of person in a book, Jeno would be grinning that Samoyed smile of his from on that cursed page. 

“I should tape a sign to my back that says, ‘Ask Lee Jeno himself. I’m not his personal owl,’” You peek at his face, “What do you think?” 

He slightly smiles, eyes crinkling almost shut even at such a small gesture of amusement. “Okay. I’ll add my signature to it so that they know it’s approved by yours truly.” He looks up to your face and you’re glad the cold can disguise your flustered face easily with this type of weather. 

Guess it’s time to actually settle this officially since it’s been clued at a little, but yes: You do have a crush on Jeno. And no, he does not know because when does telling one of your best friends’ that you’ve been crushing on them ever worked out? 

No, not in the Wattpad story kind of way, you mean truly worked out. Because personally, you’ve never heard of it working out ever, especially since you’re practically in the you’ve-seen-him-in-his-boxers and he’s-seen-you-shirtless stage of friendship. Don’t ask, it’s a long story that’s already too long for this kind of boring read. 

So, no, you will not take your chances, thank you very much. There were many signs flashing neon that told you Jeno didn’t see you in a romantic or sexual kind of way but the glaringly obvious sign was actually the one you two are discussing currently. 

What’s the appropriate way of acting if your crush is being berated by other peers on campus to give them your number? You’re not confident in what it actually looks like because for one, you’re not on the receiving end in this imaginary scenario, and two, it’s exactly that; an imaginary scenario. You can’t even seriously dream of Jeno liking you if you could. It was just that bizarre. 

In the two years you've known the boy, he’s never even once mentioned another human being that he could potentially be interested in on campus. It’s not a problem of him not being comfortable telling you either because he’s told you upright that he’s not interested in anybody here (including you who’s enrolled in this stupid university). You’ve even nonchalantly asked Jaemin before and he’s confirmed that even in high school, this kid did not have wandering eyes. 

You had wondered if Jeno was asexual, aromantic, or something along that line in the spectrum, eventually having the courage to ask him one day and he shook his head no quite confidently, a small smile laid on his lips. 

You don't know what Jeno's deal was but the risks in finding out really didn’t lean in your favor. And that’s fine, considering how many fish are available on Earth's wide sea of potential mates. You’ve killed off even the chance of dating Jeno and that’s all good in your book. You’ve been attracted to your guy friends once and twice and they faded away with time exploring their weird quirks or horrible habits. And even if Jeno was a strange case where you’ve even seen the dude have beer dripping from his nostrils from a shitty keg stand and you still manage to harbor feelings for him… eh. 

Time brushes away a lot of problems if you’re desperate and willing enough. Luckily for you, you checked off both boxes easily with this special instance. 

You open your laptop and scour your documents for your old stats notes on chi-square tests. Bleh.

Pretending to gag in your mouth at the sight, Jeno smothers a laugh that shakes your shoulder and you share the document his way before scrolling and finding the right topic. You do the problem with few difficulties and write a quick message in the corner of his notebook page. 

‘Actually study this because Y/N did the example and took time from her day to do so, thank you.’

“Thanks,” Jeno chirps as he takes his notebook back, removing himself from your shoulder (to your well-hidden disappointment), “I owe you one.” 

“You’re right. A coffee works just fine, thank you.” You pipe back, folding your hands on the table cheerily. Jeno is shaking his head in mock annoyance but you knew the next time you two meet, you would not be disheartened, a warm cup pressed in hand. 

“A four-dollar coffee is worth one solved problem in your book?” Jeno argues. 

You fire back without hesitation. “It’s statistics. And I just sent two semesters’ worth of notes to you. You’re very welcome.” 

“You’re right,” Jeno turns, stowing his notebook away, “That’s like seven coffees then.” 

“And a scone if you’re feeling nice. A croissant works too.” You beam. 

“Now you’re pushing it. Those things are stupidly overpriced.” 

“Even for me?” You playfully place your chin in your cupped hands, blinking slowly and looking through your lashes. 

Jeno sighs, placing a hand on your head of hair. “Fine. You win, you spoiled princess.” 

In times like these, you knew you really asked to be put in these types of situations. And you’re not one to start being a saint and stop being hypocritical but… you deserved what you were putting yourself through, saying these types of things and teasing like this. Trying to get a stir and playact with being more. 

Maybe it was a little cruel, somewhat tricking Jeno into saying sweet things to you, just to let your mind wander for a second. Call it… taking advantage of his friendship to pretend a little. Harmless but still adds into your ledger of sins for Judgment Day right? 

“Why are Jisung and Jaemin taking so long? I’m running out of apples.” Renjun whines, looking at the bag that’s been emptied. You’re almost one hundred percent sure it was the two other hungry animals sitting at this table and you weren’t even listening to their argument earlier. 

“They’re carrying seven people’s worth of food. I think that warrants a little patience.” 

“I wouldn’t be nearly upset if these two idiots didn’t steal my apples.” Renjun spits out, glaring. The two culprits wholly ignore the oldest. 

A whole two minutes later, Jaemin and Jisung arrive, lugging four plastic bags of takeout. Jisung’s thin arms are shaking with the effort to hold them, Hyuck getting up to relieve him. 

“Wah, took you two long enough. Thanks for losing the bet last week.” Chenle slaps a hand to Jisung’s heaving back. 

“We just walked… half a mile carrying all this.” Jisung breathlessly collapses beside Hyuck, bent over with his hands on his knees. 

“Why didn’t you take Jaemin’s car?” Jeno mumbles around his hamburger. 

Jaemin laughs, out of breath as well. “I left my fucking car at Yangyang’s from Friday. I didn’t even remember until today because I can walk to my Monday classes.” 

“What the fuck did you do without a car on the weekend?” Hyuck wonders, chipmunk cheeks stuffed full of fries. 

Jaemin makes a suggestive face and everybody recoils, not willing to be curious anymore. The culprit laughs airily. “Why are you all assuming bad things right now?” 

“You didn’t go crawling back to Eunji or something, right?” Hyuck squints, “Because I saw you talking to her that night and that would be pathetic to hear about right now—”

“No, I’m not that kind of asshole—”

“At least you can acknowledge you are one…” Jisung comments under his breath. 

“I simply asked her how she was doing. It was completely innocent,” Nana’s wide bunny eyes scan the table, “Really! I conked out in Hendery's room after the party.” 

“And just so happened to leave your car at Yang’s which is directly across from Eunji’s dorm—” Hyuck continues before Jaemin cuts him off with a scoff. 

“Again. Not that kind of an asshole. Besides, if you had looked closer Hyuck, we were civil Friday night. I doubt she would ever let me get near her that way again… except for maybe with a baseball bat.” 

The table stifles laughs at that, chowing down the food. Everyone murmurs a quick thanks halfway through every food item getting demolished.

“Can you even afford this Jisung?” You mention on second thought, considering the younger boy sat diagonally from you.

“Jaemin owed me too so he paid for everything.” 

“Man, you just rack them up, don’t you?” Jeno pityingly looks over to his best friend at the end of the table. 

He shrugs, not all that bothered. “I’ll eventually learn my lesson, right?” 

“Not if you keep agreeing to our daily bets, stupid.” Chenle quips past his tenders, shoulders shaking in mirth. 

“That’s true. You walk right into them when we bring it up.” Renjun supports. 

“You should be glad you’re never around to accept Ten’s though. I like to think you would fall for them easily.” You crunch at Chenle’s fries, the younger boy not noticing your swiping. 

“What do his bets look like?” 

“Skinny dipping. Egging houses. And occasionally, seven minutes in heaven.” Jisung answers for you, which you backtrack at. In fact, everybody does. 

Hyuck blinks owlishly at him. “What?” 

“How do you know these things, kid? Spill.” You threaten with a long fry of Chenle’s, the soggy potato cut flopping as time goes by. 

“You’ve never seen me at Ten’s?” Jisung spills. Everyone gapes. 

“Why the fuck would we see you at Ten’s!?” Hyuck laughs in disbelief, hilarity at the situation peeking at the twinkle in his eyes. 

“Yeah, what the heck? Why am I never invited?” Chenle sulks.

Jeno scoffs. “Because you two are freshmen, that’s why.”

“What are you, fucking Casper the ghost in the corner? How come we’ve never seen you?” Nana is skeptical as well, the only one upset that his baby freshie has managed to sneak into an upperclassmen party. 

“Johnny invites me sometimes. When he remembers.” Jisung shrinks at all the attention, nervous with the sudden interrogation. 

“Johnny is a bad influence,” Jaemin argues with a fold of his arms. 

“Like you’re any better, Nana.” You laugh, bringing an arm around Jaemin to offer comfort. You don’t see Jeno shift at the contact. 

“And you don’t take part in the bets, do you?” Renjun implores before he shakes his head, “Wait, no, I definitely would have heard of Jisung having seven minutes in heaven with someone.”

“Oh, no. I’m not insane,” Jisung shivers at the thought. “It’s fun to watch Taeil go crazy though.” 

Hyuck slaps a hand to Jisung’s back, the latter wincing at the battering his body is taking today. “Welcome to the real deal, man! My god, why did I not know you came to upperclassmen parties? You sneak in sometimes?” 

“What? No! Do I look even close to a sophomore to you?” Jisung looks to make a point, gesturing towards himself. “There’s your answer.” 

“I think Johnny favors you then. He has a soft heart for freshies, who knew?”

“Where is my invite then?” Chenle whines, still sulking. 

“I’ll take you as my plus one.” Jisung placates his best friend with that and he continues to happily chew on his cheeseburger. 

“When’s his next one? Oh, I can’t wait to see how Jisung acts wasted.” Hyuck wiggles in his seat, giggling like a happy toddler. 

“Oh no, not on my watch. Baby Jisungie is not getting wasted at any party, ever.” Jaemin acts tough, glaring at the youngest of the group. 

“Oh, please Grandpa. You didn’t even realize I was present at these until I just told everyone.” 

Nana bursts at that, screeching a scolding noise that startles a pair of girls walking by. “Because I never even expected you to be at one! That’s why!” 

Jaemin looks to you, eyes wide. “My baby chick. At an upperclassmen party.” 

Giggling, you push at his jaw to turn his gaze towards Jisung again. “Jisung’s got a fair point. Who are you to stop him?” 

“I never get wasted anyway. I just come to watch the chaos.” Jisung grins, munching on his chicken tenders like Chenle. As you watch longer, you understand why Nana babies the youngest so much. He’s cute in moderation and it looks easy to want to mother him. 

“Whatever,” Nana grumbles, “Guess I have to watch out at parties and babysit now.” 

“Oh, please don’t.” Jisung’s face scrunches up.

“This Saturday. You coming, Jisung?” Hyuck grills, pocketing his phone which you didn’t even realize he pulled out to text presumably Johnny or Ten. 

“I guess… if Johnny asks me.” Jisung drags out, glancing at Hyuck. 

“This sounds like a disaster now that everybody knows.” Renjun leans across to whisper to you and Jeno. 

“You two should come to watch the shitshow with me,” You grin, wiggling your eyebrows, “I know you two usually don’t come but sometimes they can be fun.” 

“I don’t wanna drink to have fun.” Renjun wrinkles his nose at that. 

Waving a hand at that, you offer a tip, “Just fill your cup with a liquid. Nobody is sober enough to check you like a cop.” 

Jeno hums at that, Renjun saying that he’ll think about it. Hyuck pockets his phone once again, having pulled it out to ask about Jisung.

“You got the go-ahead, dude. Ready to party with the big boys?” Hyuck wrestles Jisung’s long neck into the crook of his elbow as the younger boy cringes. 

“I don’t know about that but…” 

Jaemin stands up dramatically, slapping both hands on the table. Your cup of soda spills a little when it knocks over, Jeno cursing as the two of you rush to correct the drink’s position. 

“Oh, not on my watch, you won’t!”

The table is quiet, absorbing Nana’s usual dramatics. 

Chenle raises his hand a little. “I’m going too, right?” 

|—————|

It took a little more convincing for Renjun to come. You and Jeno usually like to watch havoc together, pure rapture and popcorn shared between you two. You seriously considered bringing the movie snack to the party but in the end, was unconvinced by the others. Using the microwave at a frat party didn’t seem so smart, especially if your attention dragged away and someone nagged the bag from the microwave before you could notice. Would just be a waste of popcorn. 

Jeno and Renjun swing by your dorm building, waiting outside in the cold for a minute or so before you pop out. 

You shiver, pulling at your black jean jacket. “How many more layers do I have to put on to not be cold?” 

Renjun shakes his head, observing your legs. “You’re wearing thin ass tights, Y/N, what were you expecting?” 

Teeth chattering, the three of you begin to walk to the 127 house. “Jokes on you, I’m wearing leggings underneath. These are fake tights with fleece in them.” 

“Why are you so cold all the time? Is your body just that weak?” Jeno genuinely queries, your black skirt flying a little too high with the current wind for his comfort. He slows to walk behind you, conscious of the nonexistent people on the deserted streets looking.

“Yeah, you’re actually shaking. Do you wanna turn back to change?” Renjun offers kindly and you shake your head, committed. 

“I look cute right now. Fashion sacrifices, am I right?” You grin impishly, eyeing your company’s outfits. 

Following your act of observing everybody’s clothing choices for tonight, Renjun laughs at all three of your different fashion senses. “We look ridiculous walking together right now.” 

Jeno peeps up from the back of the two of you leading the way. “How? I think we look fine.” 

You hum in agreement. “We look like college students going to a party.” 

A bark of laughter escapes Renjun’s mouth, tugging at Jeno’s jacket zipper. “Yeah, three different parties. Jeno looks like he’s about to rob a store. Y/N looks like a grunge girl and I look like I’m heading to the fucking library.” 

He’s not that wrong. Jeno’s wearing all black, cargo pants, tee, chunky boots, and zip-up hiding his good figure in the darkness of his clothes. A navy blue cardigan covers Renjun, wearing similar beat-up Converse to you, with a white tee and light blue jeans. Looking down at your own outfit, you pluck a piece of lint off your gray sweater. 

“But we all look great. Killing the fashion game. Fabulous.” You strut forward with confidence, the other two amused at your antics. 

The 127 frat house lays ahead and you speed up to get out of the cold. Mark greets you with a hug and shout of happiness. You can smell the alcohol reeking his breath and the entire vicinity already. The floor bumps beneath your feet, everyone else in the building bobbing their head to the beat. 

“Hi, Y/N! Oh shit, what?” Mark calls out to Jeno and Renjun, dapping them up as his Solo cup dangerously leers to the left. You hurriedly correct it in his hold, not willing to get beer stains on your nice clothes this early into the night. 

“What the fuck are you two doing here?” Mark shouts down to you, a dopey grin implanted on his expression, “You convinced them to come for once?!” 

“I know, right? It’s a rare occasion tonight!” You yell back, a contagious smile growing on you at Mark’s infectious mood. 

Jeno leans closer to break your close proximity to Mark, “Hyuck is gonna get Jisung to let loose. Seems like a good disaster to watch unfold.” 

Mark shakes his head fondly at that, grabbing a hold of Renjun’s shoulder and leading all three of you into the kitchen. It’s crowded with humid heat, too many bodies in one room for comfort. 

“Grab a drink and toss any cups just laying around, please. I gotta get back to door duty but have fun!” Mark sings, planting a brave wet kiss to your forehead in goodbye before he’s off, shoving to the front of the house again. 

You wipe at your forehead, deciding to make fun of sober Mark for this innocent kiss later. Jeno bristles at the sight, grabbing three red cups and pulling out the unopened liter of Coca-Cola in the back of the line of sodas. 

Renjun holds the three cups gladly, there being no counter space to easily maneuver for pouring, before passing on the beverage to you. You press your cup to the ice machine and grimace as no ice chunks come flying into your cup. 

“Lukewarm Coke it is.” You toast the other three, clinking your Solo cups together before sipping. Getting out of the small kitchen, your eyes scan the crowd. 

“See Jisung, Chen, or Hyuck anywhere?” Renjun queries, yelling over the thumping bass. You climb onto the step bar of a stool someone’s currently sitting on, placing a hand on Jeno’s shoulder for support. The height lets you look over the big jumble of people in the large living room, not noticing any familiar heads.

“I see Jungwoo. Maybe he knows.” Jeno calls out, before stepping into the mass of moving bodies. He abandons the two of you for a total of thirty seconds before dragging not one, but two of the 127 boys over. 

Doyoung gives a quick side hug, shoving at Jungwoo who comes to lift you off your feet. You make an impact sound at the tall puppy’s strength, patting at his arm to let you down. 

Jungwoo’s blonde head of hair is all mussed up and you brush at the strands, laughing. “How much have you had to drink already?” 

“A good, healthy amount! I’m on water for the rest of the night!” Jungwoo happily confesses with a thumbs up, all his perfect white teeth on display. 

“You two know where Hyuck is?” Renjun bellows. 

Jeno adds on, “Or Jisung! We’re here for them!” 

Doyoung makes a pulled face at that, Jungwoo bending over in laughter. “What!? Jisung is here?” 

The younger of the two frat boys begin darting over the crowd, trying to locate the tall beanstalk. 

“What would Jisung be doing here?” Doyoung is puzzled, a little concern crawling into his expression. 

“Apparently all Johnny’s doing. Or Hyuck’s, we don’t know at this point.” Jeno shrugs. 

“We’re here for the shitshow to commence!” You revealed a little too happily, Doyoung making a forced smile. 

“I don’t know anything about this. Johnny’s DJing right now! You can go ask him though.” He points to the far back of the living room. The black-haired senior is head bobbing to the music, a set of headphones half on his head as he waves his gigantic arms around. 

You giggle nervously at the obstacle between you and reaching him. “Oh hell no,” You push at Jeno’s arm, “This tough guy is going to go ask for us.” 

Doyoung cradles his favorite underclassman by the neck and joins him in his journey to the front. Jungwoo’s a little ways away, dancing wildly. Renjun laughs at the sight, bringing your attention to the silly junior. 

“I dare you to join him.” You challenge playfully, and Renjun shakes his head adamantly. 

“Fuck no! You think I dance at these parties?!” 

“If you have alcohol in you, anyone can dance!” You try to convince Renjun, pulling his lips down. 

“Good thing I’m not drinking tonight then!” 

Jungwoo gets swept out into the dance floor again, not allowing the three of you to converse more before Jaemin joins the two of you out of seemingly nowhere. He cheers at the sight, ruffling Renjun’s well-styled hair, much to the older boy’s disappointment. 

Jaemin grasps at your opposite shoulder, leaning on your head to heave some of his dead weight. 

You nudge his side, Nana yelping at the contact. “You know where Jisung is?” 

Nana widens his eyes at your question, suddenly remembering his self-proposed babysitting job. 

“Oh shit! I forgot! Where is that idiot?” Jaemin gasps, helplessly looking around. 

“Trust me, we’ve been trying to navigate this mess for ten minutes since we’ve arrived. Just wait here with us!” Renjun pulls at Jaemin’s belt loop, yanking the same-birth-year boy back into your talking circle. 

Jeno arrives a minute later, lugging a slouching Jisung on his back. Hyuck is laughing his ass off, pushing the hair off of Jisung’s forehead to catch the youngest’s drunk face better. 

Jeno practically throws Jisung on the now-available stool this stranger just gave up, blowing out a breath of relief. “This kid is way heavier than he looks!” Jeno complains.

Hyuck is still dying of laughter and you and Renjun can’t help but follow in line as Jisung groans, pulling at Jeno’s waist to cuddle him. The latter is halfway between uncomfortable and endeared at Jisung’s affectionate behavior, who’s mumbling nonsense. 

“Jesus, why did he drink so much?” Jaemin worries, patting his baby chick’s head. 

“Dude, I didn’t even need to say anything! Chenle is the bad influence here, not me!” Hyuck throws his hands up at Nana’s deadly glare. As if on cue, the second youngest of your friend group gathers everybody’s attention in the crowd, pulling 127 boy Jaehyun on the table he’s standing on to make a speech. 

“There’s no damn way…” You whistle at the sight, Jaehyun patting the underclass man in pride. 

Jisung mumbles something into Jeno’s stomach and the older boy leans down to hear him better.

“Hm… w-wanna go… home…” Jisung hiccups, eyes barely open and Jeno nods.

“I better bring this idiot home. I’ll probably have to sneak his dumb ass past the RA, I’ll be right back.” Jeno grunts as he wraps Jisung’s long arms around his neck, practically carrying the beanstalk like a backpack. 

“It’s okay, I’ll do it!” Nana rushes to switch off with Jisung’s dead weight. He groans, looking to Jeno with a grimace. “Ugh, you were right. He is a lot heavier than he looks.” 

“Are you sure? I can help?” Jeno halfheartedly makes sure, to which Jaemin nods resolutely. 

“I need some fresh air anyways, been here too long!”

“Do you want me to go with you?” You offer, only because you knew sneaking around the RA would manage to get rowdy with just the two of them alone. 

“Nah, it’s okay. I better have a drink after getting back from this though.” Nana jokes and you shove the pair towards the door. 

Jeno stuffs his hands into his pockets, low-key relieved that he doesn’t have to go back into the cold night. He had just gotten here and despite how disgusting it was thinking about how much heat was being produced, it was better than freezing outside. 

“There’s our entertainment for the night.” Renjun lifts his cup in salute. 

Hyuck nudges everyone to watch Chenle though, who wants to crowd surf but fails to, nobody willing to hold him up. Everyone starts cackling at the sight, peers practically making space so that Chenle won’t be convinced to just commit and dive onto them. 

“Up for a game of beer pong, anyone? I’ve been trying to play all night!” Hyuck hooks around the boys, dragging everyone over to the foyer where two tables were set up. Tons of spills made you almost slip and split your head open. Thankfully Jeno is like a solid wall behind you, not fazed by your clumsiness. 

He gets close behind you, hands still on your waist and breath tickling your ear as Hyuck and Renjun take the other end of the pong table. “Wanna bet Mark comes in for a celebrity shot later?” 

You laugh nervously, getting hot under his hold and turning to look at Jeno’s expression. “That is oddly specific. How are you so confident?” 

Looking over to Mark, he’s chatting with Mina and completely distracted from answering the door now. You’re sure that Johnny, the brother he’s been shadowing in the frat, would not be happy with Mark ignoring his job. Or maybe he would, knowing Mark was actually shooting his shot with a girl.

“I don’t wanna tell you why. Then you won’t agree.” Jeno argues, finally getting his hands off you to roll up his sleeves. You slightly roll your eyes at his words, trying to subtly look at the veins in Jeno’s hands' flex. 

“I think he’ll come in later too. But I say it’ll be for us. Not for Hyuck or Renjun.” 

Jeno makes a tutting sound, collecting the empty cups on your side and making the triangular shape. “You’re trying to sell me out here, no way. You’re just gonna convince Mark to come over by…”

Your eyebrows lift. “By what exactly?” 

Jeno shakes his head, a small smile sat on his face. You poke at his side, curious. “By what? Now you’ve intrigued me!” 

“Whatever. I’ll make a better bet,” Jeno nabs Renjun’s missed shot, to which Hyuck whines, “Mark is gonna ask you out tonight.” 

Sputtering on the soda you’ve been sipping on, you watch Jeno whip his ping pong ball like straight butter into your opponents’ cup. The other side’s loud protests distract him from your obvious gaping, confused at the sudden thought of Mark liking you.

Jeno eventually eyes your expression, making a weird face. “What?” 

“What? What do you mean, what? Are you insinuating Mark likes me?!” You angrily whisper, afraid that somehow the person you two were talking about would hear over the loud music flowing throughout the house. 

“Why are you so surprised? It’s very obvious! At least in my eyes.” Jeno shrugs. The ping pong from Hyuck hits your stomach, confusing him. You grab at it, just tossing it without a care. The ball whooshes in and you don’t notice, still frazzled. 

“You’re joking, right? This is a sick joke of yours?” Peering over at Jeno, he scoffs. 

“No. Don’t tell him I said this but when we first introduced you to him, he said you were pretty.” The deadpan way Jeno utters this makes your eyes squint. 

“That seems like an innocent compliment to me.” (News flash, you’re denying reality here.) 

Jeno lifts a dark eyebrow at that. “When has Mark Lee ever gone out of his way to intentionally compliment a girl?” 

You scrunch your nose at that, rubbing at the kiss he planted on your head earlier. “This changes things.” 

Jeno only chuckles, plucking the ball from one of your cups and setting it aside. He closes one eye, practically doing the same with the other as he aims. He groans with a failure, looking back to you. “Do you not like him? He’s nice, though you haven’t known him as long as I and the others have.” 

“No, no, he is nice! I like him.” The last sentence is pronounced like ‘I like him as a friend’ in your head but Jeno interprets it differently. Maybe the bass from the speakers morphed the tone of your words in his thick skull. 

“You like him?” Jeno’s voice tilts high. Hyuck’s next horrible shot plonks straight at Jeno’s forehead, which he ignores in shock. 

He’s never shown incredibility like this to show you. You’re diverted to denying his words instantly, not thinking of the consequences. 

“He’s… a nice guy.” You look to Mark again and this time, he senses your gaze, throwing up a nerdy gesture of a peace sign. You wave back with a smile and don’t catch Jeno’s suspicious tonguing of his cheek at the interaction. 

“Are you accepting the bet or not?” Jeno holds a hand out, which you wait to contemplate after absolutely dunking your next shot. On a roll.

“Mark’s wingman now, are you?” Your tease causes Jeno’s jaw to shift. He acts it off as confidence, nodding with reluctance. 

Maybe he had gone too far with the little game of bets now. 

“Okay! Bet!” You perk up, wanting to win this easy wager. Mark wouldn’t ask you out, no way. 

Accepting the deal easily, you shake on it and smirk internally. 

Jeno was easy to read. An open book, you could say. Everyone in your friend group knew it as well, which made him the butt of jokes and teases all too often. He made it too fun to poke at him and you’ve joined in on the game plenty of times. This was just another game of prodding the naive Samoyed you had, though a little different. 

You didn’t really understand the reasoning behind Jeno’s disturbance all that much but he was the one that brought Mark’s supposed “crush” to you. And you’re not one to fuck with someone’s feelings that far, especially with sweet ‘ol Mark’s. 

You were pretty confident the older boy did not fancy you though; he was never around you in the first place to hint at the notion. Mark was pretty private with his romantic life so you’re not all that surprised you don’t know much. He was glued to the frat more often than usual and has been hanging out with you and company less often. 

To be fair, if Mark was with someone, hopefully, he was not blatantly kissing your forehead without care. You were never as close to Mark as the other boys like Jeno had stated before. You suppose if he did happen to ask you out tonight, it wouldn’t be so bad. But the desire to win this bet burns in your veins, even more than usual with the bizarre behavior Jeno is exhibiting at the mere thought of you returning Mark’s so-called “feelings��.

“If you’re making a bet to win this game right now, you’re gonna eat shit!” Hyuck brags, practically vibrating in excitement because the two of you were somehow tied up. Even with this dude drunk, he could be somewhat decent at games. How irritating.

Biting the corner of your lip, you ignore Hyuck, plan to win this short game of cup pong, and then win this bigger game of bets with Jeno. To gain this extra favor initializes a step-by-step scheme of what you were going to do. There was no way Jeno could beat you.

Jeno watches greed grow in your irises, probably confused. 

“So you’re confident he won’t ask you out.” He drags out his words, making sure you understood what you just shook on. 

“Yeah,” You bob in place now, trying out his strategy of closing one eye to shoot, “Mark won’t ask me out. He’s not that drunk.” 

“Really?” Jeno feigns interest, throwing his head to Mark fast approaching you, “You sure about that?” 

You don’t get to answer, Mark’s alcohol-hazed eyes crinkling. Mina follows close behind, waving a greeting to the both of you. “Hi, Mina! Mark— oomph!” 

Thinking Mark’s walk trajectory would stop before reaching so close, the junior bumps chest-first into you. 

“Hi! Can I take a celebrity shot?!” Mark yells, overcompensating his volume when you’re glued to him. He swarms your space, placing a touchy hand on the small of your back before standing on his tippy toes and stealing your ping pong. 

His mouth is instinctively making ‘Oh!’ noises as he readies it, failing miserably and pouting at the loss. “I could’ve sworn that was close, dude!” 

You and Mina share a smile. She knew her friend was a little touchy when drunk so the two of you chalk it up to being just that. Jeno doesn’t though, burning eyes watching the tight hold Mark has on you. 

Mark blinks rapidly down at you, pleading with big doe eyes, “Just one more shot I steal. One more celebrity shot!” 

You nod, easily agreeing with a laugh. Maybe you had underestimated how turnt your dude was right now. Mark leans backward a little, losing his balance and almost toppling you over with him. Mina pulls Mark away from your space, probably deciding he’s had enough of bothering you. 

“Sorry, he is so wasted right now.” Mina apologies, pushing the boy away from your beer pong table to the kitchen for water. 

Jeno makes a face that reads “I told you so”, forcing you to bend over in laughter. 

“Jeno, you can’t be serious. He acts that way with everyone!”

“You think that Mark touches up every girl like that? He kissed your forehead earlier too.” Jeno genuinely notes and you pause. Just for a split second. 

“We’re friends.” It’s as if that statement alone will end this argument and Jeno rolls his eyes. 

“And we’re friends too, dimwit. We don’t act like that, do we?” 

You shift at his words, uncomfortable at the sudden lodging of your throat. Oh, how you wish Jeno did. At least then, you’d have a pathetic hope he had an inkling of an interest in you too. 

Instead of replying to him, you turn and take Jeno’s shot for him to end the game. The last cup is yours for the taking and Renjun groans with his head thrown back, almost flying off balance at the shove Hyuck gives his partner for more space. 

“Okay, okay! Redemption shot, I got this!” Hyuck steadies his hand and bounces off the lip of your side’s last Solo cup. 

“FUCK!” 

“YOU ABSOLUTE DICKHEAD, LEE DONGHYUCK!” 

There’s a forced smile on your lips at the victory, one that only Jeno can notice is fake up close. Thankfully, he doesn’t pry on it more, seeing as he knew you weren’t going to give a truthful answer in this setting. 

You were starting to wish you had a bit of alcohol in your system, as much as you hated the taste of it on your tongue. 

|—————|

By the end of the night, you had won the bet as expected. But Jeno being the sore loser he is, tried to convince you to drag the bet on. He was super confident that Mark was into you. Maybe his friend was too wasted to ask or remember your answer if he were to come up to you about a date. 

“I’ll sleep on it,” You had said, “Especially since I pity you and I haven’t decided what I want the favor to be yet.” 

With that, Jeno breathed out a sigh in relief as he walked you home. 

|—————|

You didn’t realize how committed Jeno was to this particular game. And you don’t know why because you had honestly forgotten about it yourself the morning next. Maybe it was his pride and stubbornness stopping him from giving up.

When Jeno swings by your dorm, texting you to come downstairs quickly, you’re confused. 

He’s in comfy clothes, hair a little frizzy as he hands you a croissant and a warm cup of coffee that heats up your body temperature. 

You blearily squint your eyes at him in suspicion. “What are you buttering me up for right now?” 

With no RA in sight, you usher him into the warmth of the dorm lobby, virtually no people around to notice your blatant disregard for rules. 

“I’m not buttering you up. I just wanted to be nice this morning.” 

Staying silent, Jeno watches your expression breathe incredibility. 

“Really! I didn’t know it was a crime to be nice to you anymore, jeez.”  

The bet comes to mind and you mention it. “You’re hoping I’m not going to make you splurge your money on my favor, aren’t you?” 

Jeno laughs, the sound deep in timbre as the sun rises higher in the cold blue sky. “No, I swear. Although talking about Mark, he is going through it right now. I woke up to a video Doyoung sent me of him vomiting into the toilet.” 

You suck your lips in, holding back a laugh. “You know, if you’re trying to sell your man to me right now, describing his hangover is not working.” 

Jeno quirks the corner of his lip at that. “He probably drank half his body weight last night.” 

You roll your eyes. “And here you were, thinking he was going to be sober enough to consider asking me out. Alright.” 

Your friend shrugs, sipping at his drink. “I’m not wrong, Princess. I’ll show you with your own two eyes Mark Lee has the hots for you.” 

Cringing at the way Jeno phrased his words, you stuff the pastry you were kindly gifted into your mouth, muffling your reply. “Plea don’ efer say if like ‘at again.” 

Jeno’s shoulders shake at your antics. “You’ve slept on my proposition now, ma’am. What’s the deal?” 

Swallowing roughly, you mutter, “Can I raise the stakes to three favors?” 

Jeno scratches at his hairline at that, face in a grimace. “Fuck. Is this worth it?” 

At the hesitation in Jeno’s eyes, you jump like a hound to the smell of meat. Or in this case, a perfect opportunity to score on some free meals. 

“Yes! Yes, it’s worth it. I accept your deal!”

“Woah woah woah! I haven’t agreed yet!” Jeno is shaking his hands in front of him, dangerously leering his hot drink side to side. He licks at the lid, the brown liquid sloshing everywhere. 

“You brought this new condition up in the first place so,” Taking Jeno’s distraction as a chance to dunk cheaply on him, you take his free hand in yours, shaking on it, “Bet.” 

|—————|

It was game on from the damn get-go. 

Any chance that Jeno got, which was within a hundred feet radius of a certain junior named Mark Lee, he bolted to the boy’s side. 

Poor Mark is so confused at the sudden ramblings Jeno has of you. He’s also even more conflicted because Jeno is going in on his compliments of your smile, smarts, humor, you name it. Mark wasn’t sure whether his friend was either crushing hard and needed to only confide in him, or whether Jeno was trying to make him like you indirectly through his selling words. 

Another thing the boy stuck in the middle of this mess notices is your sudden disappearance from his vicinity. You two didn’t exactly share a class but shared a professor, who taught two subjects back to back. 

Usually, you would wait around in the auditorium-shaped classroom to catch up with him, just say hi. But no, apparently you now bolt as soon as the professor calls it quits for the day. Mark had a greeting on the tip of his tongue opening up the doors, only to scour your usual seating arrangement and come up empty. 

Poking his head out down the sidewalk, you’re speed walking away like your non-existent pet was on the verge of death. 

Mark would brush it off to some urgent duty you had but… at the odd behavior of his two friends, he decides to swing by the willow tree at the end of the week. Maybe start his own experiment on what was going on. It just didn’t seem like a coincidence to him. 

And right he was in his thoughts. 

At the sight of Mark approaching the table, your eyes widen to the size of saucers, whipping your head around to Jeno. You want to slap his smug face right off. 

“What the hell is Mark doing here? Did you convince him to come?” You spit out in a whisper, Hyuck none-the-wiser as he hollers for his best friend to sit beside him. 

Jeno shakes his head no innocently, lips pouting out. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

Swearing under your breath, you plaster a smile onto your face, breathing out a greeting to the upperclassman. He grins at you, to which your cheeks heat up for some reason. 

Maybe it was because this dude beside you had been bragging about you to Mark. Jeno had told you his genius plan of planting unconscious thoughts of you in Mark’s head a few days ago and its effects are now catching up to you, sweat building on your hairline.  

Jeno misinterprets it as you getting nervous in the presence of Mark, probably wishing rain to fall on his head at manifesting his final Lee brother to sit down this afternoon. 

“What’s up, man?” Mark exchanges a handshake with Jeno as he swings his bag to the ground and tucks his legs under the table. He watches with rapture as you busy yourself with the textbook splayed out in front of you, eyes skittering. 

Before Jeno can give a general reply to Mark, Hyuck bumps Mark's shoulder. “You should text Renjun your order from that Mexican place down the street.” 

“Who’s favor are we using today?” Mark asks in curiosity. 

You raise a hand rather timidly, to which the entire table is bewildered and bemused. The bewildered people are only Hyuck and Mark because they don’t know the absolute pain-enduring embarrassment to which bemused Jeno has cursed you to withstand. You’ve always been very comfortable with the guys, including Mark, so the oblivious two not in on this bet are raising their eyebrows at your behavior. 

“What did Renjun lose against you again?” Jeno pretends to ponder deeply while you throw a heated glare his way. You wish you could burn his eyebrows right off in this moment. 

“Oh!” The bulky meathead gasps, “He lost ten-to-two against a game of naming capitals of countries. Isn’t she so smart?” 

Jeno is being so obvious. You grit your teeth as he pets your head. 

“Take your hand away before I bite your pinky finger off.” You seethe past closed lips, the audience not hearing your threat. 

Jeno jolts his limb away at that, instead, grinning a Samoyed smile toward Mark. The latter is mainly lost in trying to navigate what the fuck was going on. 

Hyuck only rolls his eyes, a little more used to your duo’s antics. “They’re probably betting on something right now.” 

Mark blinks at that. The picture was becoming a little clearer. He wasn’t sure which way to start investigating this dilemma next. 

“No!” The two of you deny instantly, sitting up straighter. It’s even more cause to believe Hyuck’s point. 

“Ignore them,” Hyuck acts like an exasperated mother to you and Jeno’s Dumb and Dumber act, pulling out his phone to show Mark the Mexican place’s menu. 

As the other pair get lost debating what to order for Mark, you turn to Jeno with a death wish written in your eyes.

“Are you crazy, Lee Jeno!? What are you doing right now, you’re practically on the verge of cheating! You’re going to give this entire thing away!” 

“No,” Jeno drags out in denial, acting like you’re a child that doesn’t understand his obvious tactic, “I’m just telling him of your intelligence. I have no clue what you’re on about.” 

You’re heavily tempted to close your textbook and go bonkers Yeri-on-Hyuck style on him but Mark butts into your killer thoughts before you can pull through. 

“What are you ordering, Y/N?” 

You stutter to Jeno’s, albeit bitter, amusement. “Um, a chimichanga. It’s… pretty good from there.” 

“Okay!” Mark perks up, tapping at the phone in Hyuck’s hand, “I’ll get the same.” 

Jeno giggles into your ear and irritation bubbles to the surface of your skin. 

“I swear to fucking—”

Mark interrupts your threat once again and you paste another pleasant smile on. “Y/N, I missed you before my class on Wednesday. You were gone before I could even say hi.” 

“Oh, yeah. I uh…” You rush to make an excuse, “I really had to water my— plant. Yeah.” 

You want to punch yourself. 

Hyuck snickers as he texts Renjun Mark’s order. “What the fuck…” 

“Yeah, what the fuck? You don’t even have a pet plant in your room. Everything you attempt to raise dies.” Jeno feels the need to contribute. You’re seething at this idiot’s audacity. 

Clarifying your mistake in excuse will only deepen the hole you’ve dug for yourself so you shut up, wanting the ground to swallow your entire being whole instead. 

“Huh,” Mark chuckles, “Okay. You’re not avoiding me for some reason, right?” 

“What? Oh, no. Not at all!” As if to prove a point to Jeno, you give the most convincing smile you can to Mark. 

“Okay, that’s good.” 

Renjun saves you from continuing this conversation as Hyuck’s phone rings, pressing the speaker button to the call. 

“What’s up?” 

“Could two of you come to the restaurant real quick? I’m going to need help carrying all this food back.” 

“Why didn’t you use your car, dumbass?” Hyuck whines. 

“Because it’s a two-minute walk from campus grounds? Come help me!” 

Jeno pipes up, “Make Jaemin and the two youngest help you. They haven’t shown up here yet.” 

“Well obviously I had thought of that, Jeno,” Renjun sasses back, “They aren’t answering.” 

“I’ll go!” You practically trip in getting up from the picnic table, dying to get away from this awkward atmosphere. 

The other three make eye contact. 

“Not it!” 

“Not it!”

“Not—! Ugh.” 

For fuck’s sake. Your luck is actual dog water.  

“Why are you so slow at this game? Your reaction speed is usually good,” Hyuck questions Mark, who groans as he gets up. 

“Well, why do we always play “Not it” then? It’s targeting me specifically.” 

You wholly ignore Jeno’s disgusting grin of satisfaction as the two of you begin to tread down the street. You curse to all above that Jeno gets kicked in the shins one day. It was looking like you were going to be the perpetrator more and more these days. 

“So…” Mark drags out, his hands in his pockets, “Do I even want to know what it is I’m currently stuck between?” 

You hum as you genuinely consider Mark’s words. “I can’t tell you. It’ll break the bet. And I really want to win.” 

Mark’s eyes crinkle in mirth. “The two of you are so competitive. It might take forever for you to win at this rate...” 

“Are you willing to be on my side?” You raise an eyebrow, secretly wishing.

To be fair, there were no very clear-cut boundaries to other methods of getting the dub. After all, Jeno is practically begging Mark to get the idea to ask you out. 

You could still cheat but not… outright cheat. 

“I guess so, as long as it doesn’t hurt anyone.” Mark shrugs innocently. You fold your hands together, laughing under your breath as you close your eyes while looking up. 

“Damn, this is serious, dude.” Mark laughs boisterously, observing your silly act of gratitude. 

“It’s on three favors,” You mumble past your silent prayers to the sky, “Of course this is serious.” 

“Three? Shit… Well, you have me at your disposal as long as you don’t tell me what the bet is, right? What should I do?” 

You smirk, finally looking at Mark with sinister eyes. 

The ball is in your field now. 

|—————|

“Huh.” 

Jaemin looks up from his laptop to Jeno who makes the noise of discernment, watching two figures from afar. Following his best friend’s eyeline, you and Mark are walking side-by-side toward the commons. You’re grinning as Mark laughs, bent over with difficulty while walking. 

“When did they get closer?” Jaemin asks in bewilderment. Jeno stays silent as Mark holds the door open for you and the both of you disappear into the commons. 

“Don’t know,” Jeno mumbles, finally looking down to his device and rereading the same paragraph over again. 

Jaemin makes a face at that, having been able to read his buddy for a while now. 

“So…” 

Jeno sighs, knowing that Jaemin is obviously hinting at something. “Spit it out.” 

“What bet did you make with Y/N?” 

Jeno side-eyes Jaemin with annoyance. “How do you even know anything about this?” 

“I have my ways,” Jaemin concludes mysteriously, “Answer me.”

“We bet at Johnny’s party two weeks ago.” 

“On what though?” 

“I said Mark would ask her out.” 

Jaemin snorts at that, going back to his laptop. “He’s not into her. He likes Mina.” 

“Yeah, well, it doesn’t really seem that way anymore. They’re getting all giggly and close with one another.” Jeno has a tone of temper growing in his words. 

“If the bet is over then, why is this dragging on?” 

“I raised it to three favors now. It’s indefinite.” 

Jaemin glances at Jeno again with fingers halted on his keyboard, holding back laughter. “Why would you ever, under any conditions, accept that? Against Y/N of all people too? She’s going to drain your wallet for food.” 

“She’s convincing.” 

“Or you’re whipped for her.” 

“I’m not.” Jeno gives a dirty look to the poor paragraph he’s been on for five minutes.

“You’re in deep denial, bud. I’ve been saying this for an eternity.” 

Jeno scowls at his best friend, not appreciating the entertained, twinkling eyes shot his way. Jaemin tilts his chin toward his neck, looking up through his long eyelashes at Jeno. 

“Deny it all you want but I know my shit. She likes you, you like her. It’s simple.” Jaemin chirps.

“Oh, and you’re the love expert, aren’t you, playboy?” Jeno’s exasperated, practically pouting. “I don’t like Y/N.” 

“Really? Why are you bothered with the idea of Y/N being with Mark then? You’re the one that suggested to her Mark was interested. Now that Y/N is entertaining the idea, you’ve backed off on trying to win,” Jaemin lands a slap on Jeno’s back, “You’re deserving of what you’re putting yourself through, man.” 

Jeno sighs as he folds his arms onto the table, laying his chin down. “I don’t like it when you speak sense.” 

“For one, I’ve always been speaking sense. But I’m glad you’re finally acknowledging my genius good points. I’ve been trying to get through your thick skull about her for two years.” Jaemin nods in gratification, glad Jeno is opening his eyes a little, even if it took some good ‘ole jealousy to stir his best friend’s heart around. 

|—————|

“Ow!” 

You cringe, the corners of your mouth reaching your ears. “Sorry! Didn’t mean to do that.” 

“S’okay.” He grumbles at the way, rubbing at the eye you just poked.

Pressing the face mask firmer on Mark’s already milky skin, you fixate on a bump and attempt to smooth it over. Once you’re satisfied, you wipe your hands on your pajama pants and clap in completion. 

“Perfect!” Twisting Mark’s shoulders around so that he shifts on the bed to face his mirror, he immediately ruins your hard work by bursting into laughter at the sight of the sheet mask on his face. 

“Mark! You fucking ruined it!” You can’t help but fall in line with your friend’s contagious sounds of amusement, slapping his arm lightly for him to face you and fix it again.

“I’m sorry! I look so stupid, I can’t—” 

Urging him to sit up straight, you shake your head side to side, not able to be actually mad when Mark was so humored by the new experience of night skincare. 

“Whatever. I guess I don’t care since you paid for dinner and I paid for this.” Grinning down at him, knees planted on the bed, Mark naturally returns your smile and regrets it as you lightly pinch his ear in retaliation for again, messing up your hard work. 

“My bad, my bad. But it’s whatever. Pizza isn’t expensive.” 

“That restaurant is kind of expensive though.” You mutter under your breath, brushing Mark’s hair from his head and adjusting his baby lion headband you bought for this tiny sleepover. 

“It’s chill. No big deal.” 

Settling back to sit on your heels, you raise a teasing eyebrow. “And if I make you sleep on the couch in the living room?”

Mark falls line and sinker, pouting a little. “You said we would put pillows between us tonight.” 

Laughing lightly, you rush to reassure Mark. “I’m joking, you know I am,” Throwing yourself back to the pillows on your friend’s bed, you pat the spot beside you and Mark follows, “What movies do you wanna watch?” 

He hums, tugging his laptop from its charger on the bedside table, “Didn’t we decide on binging the Tom Holland Spiderman movies earlier this week?” 

“Oh yeah, I forgot about that! I—”

Your phone begins to buzz incessantly on his nightstand and you peer at it. “Oh. It’s Jeno.” 

Mark makes a suggestive face at that and you scoff. 

You and Mark have gotten closer over your comradery of this bet with Jeno. And not in a romantic way, just more of genuinely enjoying each other’s company as friends.

Yeah, sure, the times to hang out at first were very much arranged and a little awkward. And Mark being the star student he is, was always studying or doing something productive but you two balanced each other out. You’re glad this entire thing with Jeno has gotten you to know Mark better. You two were way more similar than you thought. Mark inspires you to be productive with your weekly library study sessions and you remind Mark to not stress so much and have a breather sometimes. 

Over this bet, you’ve gained a closer friend and you’re not mad about it. The bet wasn’t ruined either since you hadn’t clued into Mark what the whole deal was about but he had an inkling; you just couldn’t confirm his suspicions. 

What Mark did confirm though was your very obvious feelings for Jeno. And no, you did not need to tell him. It was a bit obvious and as much as Mark was oblivious to many types of things, your subtlety about Lee Jeno somewhat escaped everybody else’s eyes in your friend group except for him.

(It was not because Mark caught you staring at a secret screenshot of Jeno’s gym picture he snapped you one time. Nope. No way.)

“Answer him. What are you waiting for?” Mark throws a hand over to your device, laptop placed aside for now. 

Sighing, you press the answer button. Jeno’s sleepy face drowns your phone screen and your heart palpitates at his soft look and droopy eyes. 

“Hey.” His timbre is deep with sleepiness and you resist the urge to physically make a cooing sound.

“Hey, what’s up?” 

“Was gonna ask you the same.” Jeno twists to lay on his side in bed, only illuminated with the light of his phone screen. 

“Chilling with Mark,” You flip the camera to Mark, who is busy scrolling and puts up a hand in hello, “Sleepover things, you know. Ate out earlier too.” 

You can’t register the look on Jeno’s face all that well with the way he shifts the phone to sit up in bed. But Jeno’s tone dies a little of interest and the natural quirk on his lips downturn as well. 

“Oh… I like your facemasks.” 

“Thanks!” You pat at your own, peering at Mark for a second and checking on his, “Mark kept fucking up his for ten minutes. It was a big hassle.” 

“That is not true. It was five minutes, max.” Mark pouts offscreen, patting at your cheek where the edge is lifting. Jeno catches his friend’s hand touching your face and feels a bubble of crossness pop in his chest. 

“Whatever makes you feel better,” You smile off to the side, returning to Jeno and sensing his emotions change. “So uh, you didn’t say what you were doing.” 

“Oh. I was calling to ask if you wanted to do something.” 

You feel a weight fall to the pit of your stomach in a split second. “Shit, sorry.” 

“It’s okay.” Jeno picks at a thread on his mattress. 

Mark butts in, leaning his chin on your shoulder and coming into view. “Come swing by. Hyuck is here right now, hanging with Taeil playing Mario Kart.” 

“Nah.” 

You furrow your eyebrows, confused. “Didn’t you want to spend time with us? Come on.” 

“I changed my mind,” Jeno smiles with no real power behind it. At the mention of “us”, Jeno flips his desires, not willing to out himself, and say he just wanted you for company right now. There’s a hollowness in the expression he has pasted on and you bristle at it, bothered at his show of trying to hide. 

“Okay… text me. Actually, scratch that— I’ll text you.” 

“Alright. Night.” 

“Bye—” 

A bit dejected at Jeno cutting you off and ending the call quickly on his side, your hand loosens and falls straight into your lap, phone in grip. 

“That was weird,” Mark mumbles, popping open a bag of chips and chewing a bit obnoxiously. “What are you gonna text him?” 

You follow his hand’s path and dig to grab a crisp too, sighing in agreement. “He was being a bit off. I’ll just check on him.” 

Mark hums, smiling a little. “You know him well.” 

You shrug at Mark’s words. “He’s easy to read.” 

“Oh yeah?” Mark goads, “How come you don’t notice the way he looks at you then?” 

“Huh?” 

The face and noise of confusion you make, automatically has Mark thinking of the boy you two were talking about.

“What do you mean, ‘Huh?’ It’s so obvious.” He mocks, making an exaggerated face to imitate you.

“What? What is?” 

Mark lets you stew in silence for a few moments to try and grasp what he was hinting at. At your lost expression, Mark’s facial muscles relax, a blank look overtaking his task of chewing. 

“You’re joking, right?” 

Now you laugh, incredibly baffled and feeling called out. “Mark, what? What are you trying to say?” 

“You dumb bimbo.” 

“Excuse me?!” You run out of breath, a smile still plastered on at the audacity this man has calling you a bimbo of all things. 

Mark resumes his munching, shaking his head with mirth, and returns back to his phone. “You two are lost causes.” 

“Lost c— What the—?”

He doesn’t elaborate, now ignoring you and waving a hand for you to proceed to text Jeno. Sighing, you drop this subject, albeit with difficulty because the kindest boy on Earth (well, you presumed so until now) just called you a bimbo.

You’re a little flattered at the attractive aspect attached to that word but still… rude.

You

hey, are you good?

you seemed off over facetime 

He reads your message but there’s no bubble showing you Jeno is thinking of replying. You elaborate, trying to yank some information out of this kid. 

You

if something’s up, i’ll raincheck with mark and come by

Jeno :3

nah, i’m good

don’t cancel your plans for me

was bored and didn’t know you had plans already

You

hyuck is here too like mark said 

you can join us and watch spiderman :0

doyoung’s home as well

Jeno :3

don’t worry princess, i’m good 

promise 

have fun with mark 

Biting your lip at the nickname, you rush to reply and not seem so affected by it over text. He’s never messaged and called you the nickname over the phone before. It seems more… flirty and intimate. 

You

okay, nighty night :D

Just as you’re about to put down your phone, it buzzes in your hand once more, lighting up with one last unread message from Jeno. Opening it, your brows furrow. Mark curiously peeks at your phone at the vague face you’re displaying. 

Jeno :3

wait one more thing

are you and mark??

You 

are me and mark what

Mark carefully watches your eyes, flittering as you watch Jeno’s typing bubble appear. It takes the latter a minute to reply; Mark counts in his head. 

Jeno :3

are you two dating?

have i… ya know 

are you sitting too close to him to tell me you know what? 

Your brows lift, finally looking to Mark and realizing his proximity to you. Yelping and backing up a little, Mark laughs. 

“Is he mentioning the bet? What are you going to say?” 

“Yeah, he is. And what do you mean, ‘What am I going to say?’ We obviously aren’t.” You snort, beginning to type your response. 

Mark snatches the phone straight out of your grasp, lifting it out of your reach. Crossing your arms in impatience, you frown. 

“Hear me out.” 

“Uh-huh.” There’s levity in your voice. 

“Be ambiguous.” 

“And why would I do that exactly?” 

Mark doesn’t appreciate the sass, rolling his eyes a bit. “Come on, catch up Y/N. Get a clue as to how Jeno feels about you.” 

“Why are you suggesting this? He obviously doesn’t see me that way.” 

“How do you really know that, though? You haven't been in a real relationship in college yet, right?” 

Nodding, Mark carries on. “And Jeno knows this… right? Do you see where I’m going…?” 

“Mark, please get to the point. I’m about to get an aneurysm following this plotline you’ve got going on.” 

“Just don’t say no directly and see whether he acts super jealous of you being with someone else.” 

Sighing, you droop into the pillows. 

“Give it a try. And I’m agreeing to this whole scheme too, you’ve got my permission.” Mark encourages, bumping your forearm. 

“Fine,” You give in, making a “gimme, gimme” motion for Mark to hand your phone back into your possession. 

You 

no, you haven’t won

we haven’t talked like that  

i suppose i’m not against the idea tho

Jeno :3

it seems like you two are seeing each other

Mark makes a noise that is similar to being translated to “I told you so!” as Jeno adds to his statement a few seconds after his last text. 

Jeno :3

did you notice the way he looked at you on ft?

Mark bursts into laughter but you don’t follow suit, genuinely befuddled. “This kid is so lovesick.” 

Ignoring Mark’s comment, you reply back for more clarification. 

You

no??? 

how 

Jeno :3 

like you hold the fucking moon in your hands idk 

i’ve been telling you, he likes you 

Mark takes your device again and you panic, fighting for it. “Don’t you dare! Make it sound like me, idiot!” 

“Okay, okay! Relax, I got this!” 

You 

Would you be okay with me getting with Mark? 

Does it bother you? 

“MARK LEE! YOU DUMB BITCH!” Yanking the pillow from behind Mark, you begin to whack the heedless boy, angry beyond belief at his obvious text. “Could you have been any less discreet?!” 

“STOP! Oh my God, stop! Look at what he said back!!!” Mark begs, cradling your conversation with Jeno like a baby and offering it over as a token of peace.

Jeno :3

i just don’t want you to get hurt 

You

you tell me, you know him better 

would he hurt me?

Engulfed in Jeno’s texts now, Mark mumbles over your shoulder, “I would be an amazing boyfriend to anyone.” 

“Shut up, I dislike you right now.” 

Mark shrinks, lips sucked into his mouth to stay silent. 

Jeno :3

not intentionally 

he’s a good guy

You’re grasping at straws, unable to believe your eyes. He was jealous, holy shit.

You’ve gotten to know Jeno’s speaking mannerisms, his facial expressions, his texting habits well, and yet you have never seen jealousy as an emotion so easily read from him like now. You’re not sure how to interpret this yet, either as a chance that maybe, just maybe, Lee Jeno potentially has feelings for you or is that he’s just confirming your beliefs of him caring about you as a platonic friend. 

You 

that sounds passive-aggressive, even over text 

Jeno :3

i’m not being passive-aggressive 

ig i’m saying i don’t want to pick up the broken pieces after he hurts you or smth 

“Yikes,” Mark whispers and you send a scowl over your shoulder, “Why’d my man word it like that?” 

Making a sound of indignation, you press on your phone’s keyboard with aggression.

You 

do you realize this is all hypothetical right

Jeno :3

well by the looks of it, you two are together already 

You 

jeno you’re being stupid rn

i just told you we weren't together 

Jeno :3

and you just asked me if i would be bothered if you ended up with him 

i’m answering your question???

You 

look i don’t want to fight over text rn 

i’ll call you tmrw? 

Jeno :3 

sure 

At your downcast face, Mark starts feeling bad. “Sorry. It seemed like a good idea in hindsight.” 

Looking back at Mark through your lashes, he gives a small tight-lipped smile and opens up his arms. You fall into them with a huff and he tugs his laptop back onto his thighs, also dragging your blanket over your body. 

“It’s okay. I agreed with your idea. At least now I know he’s bothered at the thought of us being together.” 

Mark softly grins at that, patting your head in endearing reassurance. “Maybe this will push him to actually do something.” 

You peer up from the crook of Mark’s shoulder for a second, trying to get at what Mark means. “Push him to do what?” 

Mark only shakes his head in mirth, black hair falling into his eyes. “Nothing. Don’t worry about a pretty little hair on your head. You’ll get it soon enough.” 

|—————|

Leaving the 127 house and heading back to your dorm, the cold air rushes at your face. Your flimsy jacket doesn’t do much to keep you warm, the blasting wind this late morning waking you up. 

Your eyes squint as you begin your trudge to your room and coincidentally, Jeno is standing at the door, looking to have been pacing outside for a while. 

“Jeno?” 

He whips around at the sound of your morning voice, puppy eyes wide in surprise. Jeno takes in the state of you, appearing like you just walked straight out of bed and snorts. 

“What a sleepover.”  

Wholly ignoring the twinge of spitefulness in the remark, you trudge past, not down for his attitude currently. 

“Morning.” You curtly mutter, waving an exaggerated hand to usher Jeno into the lobby of your dorm. With no one around in sight, you figured it was safe. After all, you weren’t petty enough in this tiny misunderstanding to leave Jeno out in the cold. 

He shivers once inside, collapsing onto the stiff couch and blowing into his cupped hands. Rocking on your heels, you stand before Jeno and patiently wait for him to bring up this conversation you two needed to have. 

“So… have I won?” He looks up to you.

You raise your eyebrows. “No. And I said that last night. Want to tell me why you were agitated yesterday?” 

“I was not agitated.” 

“It kind of seemed like it.” 

Jeno crosses his arms. A small pout sits on his lips and the ice around your heart from his mean demeanor earlier melts. 

“He’s… Mark isn’t…” 

“He’s what?” Deciding to sit down beside him, your back leans against the armrest of the couch, body facing toward Jeno wholeheartedly. 

Jeno looks to the soda vendor, eyes locked on the broken and shaky lights blinking in it. 

“This bet isn’t fair. I realized last night,” He meets your gaze and at the blank look in them, you wrap your arms around yourself, “The indefinite terms were that… I would win if Mark asked you out and you would win if he didn’t, right?” 

“Are you suggesting that I’m lying to you? Over a dumb bet?” 

Jeno shoves his hands into the pockets of his sweats, brown irises fluttering away from you again. 

“Let’s call it off.” 

You sit up straighter, confusion stapled in your voice. “What?” 

“Let’s call the bet off.” 

“But— but why? It’s been a few weeks and you’re going to call it off now—?” 

“Yeah, I am,” Jeno sighs, standing and turning with a serious tone. “I don't want in anymore.”

Getting up as well, you grab Jeno’s hand before he could leave without any explanation. “Jeno, are you being serious? I told you, Mark hasn’t asked me anything. We aren’t seeing each other.” 

“Then why did you suggest last night you were thinking about it?” 

The furrow between Jeno’s brows indicate his anger. Leaning back from the emotion, you can’t help but roll your eyes. 

“Jeno… this is why I hate texting, alright? It’s a misunderstanding. I was just wondering what you would think about me and Mark being an item. I wasn’t genuinely—”

Sighing deeply, you cut yourself off and tug at his hand to get him to sit back down. Jeno resists the movement, looking frustrated. His non-cooperation to try and talk things out burns the fire within you higher.

“Why does it even matter to you if I were? I don’t need to be explaining myself to you. You’re the one that’s gotten me onto Mark in the first place, Jeno!”

“Look, I don’t give a shit whether you like Mark or not—”

“Then why are you acting this way?”

The desperation is your strained voice has Jeno swallowing roughly. The words he wants to say are dying to climb out of his throat but…

Jeno’s jaw shifts, eyes becoming cold. “I don’t want in with the bet anymore, end of story. Are we done?” 

Water starts to prick your eyes, not understanding Jeno’s harshness. It was just a lighthearted bet, right? 

Your throat constricts, making your belated answer sound forced. “Yeah. We are.” 

|—————|

“Jeez. Who shat in your salad today?” 

You glare, meeting the sight of Hyuck dragging out the chair opposite to you as the metal legs scrape against the commons’ linoleum floor.

“Not in the mood, Hyuck.” 

The corners of his mouth stretch to the edges of his plump cheeks, bared teeth cringing on display. “Okay… I just wanted to update you that my mom wants your family over for dinner on break. Do you… want me to leave?” 

When he starts looking around the cafeteria, you hurriedly grab your childhood friend’s arm which is hovered near his face holding a breadstick. “No! Stay.” 

Your friend smirks at the needy words and in retaliation, you snatch the warm bread of his weak grip. Hyuck is on the cusp of complaining but eying the pout glued to your lips, he sighs and gives up. 

“Want me to accompany your misery?”

Humming non-committedly, your cheeks puff out from the food you completely stuffed in its confines, not willing to talk much. Biting his lip, Hyuck hesitates to mention what he wants to say. At the puppy eyes you give him, Hyuck finally asks. 

“This about Mark?” 

You shake your head. But on further thinking, you take it back with lips sucked into your mouth and shrug. 

“Ah, this bet with Jeno then?”

Stilling at his name, Hyuck shakes his head mirthfully. “I figured. You two argue?” 

Swallowing harshly, you rest your chin on the palm of your hand. “Yeah. It’s been two days and I’ve tried reaching him but he doesn’t pick up. Nana says he’s ignoring me.” 

Hyuck rolls his eyes at his friend’s shitty behavior. “Fucking idiot. Can’t take a clue for the life of him. Actually…” Hyuck aims his twisted face of disgust towards you, “That applies to your dumbass too.” 

You kick at Hyuck’s ankle lightly. “Hey! You’re not making me feel any better. Stop calling me names, Hyuck!” 

He hisses dramatically, grasping onto his foot like a baby. “Ow! Alright, alright! I was just saying… All of us have been watching this little footsie game between you and Jeno for a while. It’s annoying to see you two mope around when you could just confess and not ruin the vibes! Movie night was boring without you two yesterday.” 

He makes an exaggerated devastated face to pair with his last words. 

“Hyuck…” Your throat tightens and willing yourself not to cry in front of a lot of the campus population right now, you gather yourself more, “Although he’s acting like a fucking idiot right now… I don’t like fighting with him. He’s my best friend.” 

Hyuck smiles softly, taking your worries more seriously now. “I would hope so. You two are the backbone of our entire gaggle of friends. None of us don’t like seeing you two fight either.” 

Biting your lip, you lean closer across the table. “I’ll be honest. I knew that we were taking the bet too far when Mark was starting to get suspicious. And I feel bad for dragging him into it… Is Jeno ignoring Mark too?”

“I’m guessing so… Let’s clarify some things first though,” Hyuck pushes his high plate of food aside with your poor excuse of a salad for lunch, folding his hands in front of himself like a professional therapist, “You have to be completely truthful to me. No lying.”

You nod desperately, roped into Hyuck’s serious tone. 

“Do you like Jeno?” 

Breath stopping, you sit back into your seat. Your hesitation says it all for Hyuck while you look around, afraid of others overhearing. Hyuck gathers your wrists, willing your body to stop squirming. 

“Are you okay with just being his friend? Or do you want to be more?” 

You whine. “Hyuck…” 

“Because if you can’t settle with just being his friend anymore… You should tell him. It hurts more to think about what could’ve been than knowing the truth in the moment. Don’t you agree?” 

Hyuck stares deeply into your conflicted eyes, wanting you to understand him. 

“But… but what if he says he doesn’t—? I mean, you said we were the backbone o-of— then everything would be ruined and things would fall apart!”

“Well, I’ll tell you this now Y/N, that boy is head over heels in love with you. You’ve probably heard this before but seriously… if you consider him your best friend and you know him so well, Jeno would not just cut you out of his life. Especially for feelings you can’t help.”

“Are you sure?” 

Your open expression makes Hyuck grin, left hand going up to ruffle your hair in amusement. 

“Yes, you goof. Now eat up some more breadsticks and let’s begin Operation Confession…” Hyuck grins sinisterly after shoving his pile of said-breadsticks your way, “How you’re going to confess to Jeno.” 

|—————|

“Hyuck, I’m going to throw up in anxiety if you keep pacing in front of me.” 

Hyuck stills at that, the trek he’s made and burned into your dorm’s floorboards halted. The fingers in his hair rip out, suddenly coming forward to play with your own. 

“Sorry, I’m just worried for you.” Your friend’s eyes are wide, the nerves getting to him as his hands shake while brushing through some of your strands. 

“Worried for me? Hyuck, you’re the one that’s planned this whole thing!” 

“I know but now that the moment is finally here, I’m scared!” 

“Hyuck, stop!” Yanking his hold away from you, you stand and jump to shake the butterflies in your stomach. Your chest felt tight and the breaths you were taking through your nose felt too short for comfort. 

Thoughts of rejection and the possibility of the worst come flooding in like a thunderstorm, drowning your senses and bringing everything forward, including the pasta you and Hyuck demolished an hour ago. 

“Oh my gosh, I think I’m going to be sick.” 

“Woah, woah! Okay!” Hyuck grabs onto your forearms, guiding you to sit back onto your desk chair, “Y/N, you’re going to do just fine, okay? I’ve set up everything for you, all you have to do is be there and tell him.” 

Your eyes meet Hyuck’s and he takes in your frightened expression with open arms. Hugging your frame tightly like you’re his own little sister, his own lids shutt with the sincerity he holds. Hyuck pulls back to pat your cheeks. 

“Don’t be too nervous.”

You roll your eyes. “I can’t help it, alright? Tell me more details! I feel so out of the loop… I mean, it’s been a week and we haven’t talked. How are you getting him to see me?” 

“Don’t worry about that,” Hyuck forces you to take a deep swallow of air and you do so with difficulty and shakiness. 

“Let’s leave. Jaemin is waiting on us.” 

|—————|

“Jaemin, what’s the ETA?” 

“Uh… I’m in the parking lot right now. His class just got out.” 

Hyuck nods resolutely, the most serious and grave face on. You clutch to his forearm, desperately leaning your ear to hear Jaemin as well. 

“Okay, so what? Five minutes?” Hyuck digs. 

Nana sighs over the receiver. “Dude, are you sure this is okay? He’s been avoiding even me for the past week because I’ve been bugging him about Y/N… we live together! Don’t you think this is going too far?” 

Hyuck clutches the phone tighter, his hand blindly pushing your face away to get some space and focus on answering Jaemin. 

“Dude, go with the excuse and do whatever needs to be done. Pop his fucking tires, I don’t care. We’ve getting these two clueless clowns together today.” 

You pout at Hyuck’s words which are unnecessarily harsh. “I’m right here, you know?” 

Hyuck ignores you, nodding at whatever Jaemin says in response over the phone, which you now can’t listen to. The both of them hang up.

“So?” You rock between your toes and heels, “We just wait here? This park is near his class?” 

Hyuck finally turns while pocketing his phone, nodding. “Yeah, he’ll be here any minute now,” He then grabs onto your shoulders, shaking you like a bobblehead, “You got this, okay? Jaemin will text me when Jeno will head your way.”

Swallowing with difficulty, a noise between distress and a cry climbs from the bottom of your throat. 

“Hyuck, no. No, we’re canceling this whole thing, I’m shitting myself right now! I mean—” You gesture toward the nice picnic dress you have adorned, hair pinned up and light makeup done, “I look so stupid trying so hard and it’s fucking freezing out! He’s going to be weirded out that I’m telling him all this in a fucking park of all places—” 

Hyuck attempts to ease your worries but you’re unable to understand him, crouching to the ground and scolding yourself for being so optimistic.

You get up in a hurry. “Nope! Nope, I’m leaving, I can’t face him today—” 

“Wait! Wait!” Hyuck chases after your quick tread back to his car on the dirt path of the park, urgently starting to whisper and tug at your arm when he feels a buzz in his pocket. 

“He’s coming right now! Stop Y/N—!”

You register Hyuck’s words in your head too late, eyes bulging out the sockets when the turn on the path has Lee Jeno jogging on it. Worry paints his face, his dark hair is matted to his head with sweat as he desperately looks around. Jaemin is calling his name and cursing him to slow down, bent on his knees when his best friend finally stops but only to yell, “Where is she?!” 

Freaking out, you whip around causing Hyuck to skid and dig the heels of his feet to stop himself from running into your frame. Looking over your head, he clutches your shoulders. 

“See?! I was telling you, it’s too late to back out. He’s here!” 

“Oh hell no.”

You push at Hyuck to start walking in the opposite direction but Hyuck shakes his head vehemently before yanking you back. You almost fly to the ground, stumbling with a yelp. It alerts Jeno, who looks over to the sound and recognizes your figure.

“Y/N!” 

Your face turns furious, burning hot in anger. Hyuck freezes and shrivels under the fire of your vengeance, only to smile tightly a second after. 

“Sorry!” He chirps before abandoning you, turning 90 degrees and sprinting straight up the incline of the park’s hill. Hyuck trips on the way to the top, finally reaching the safe haven from your wrath and putting up a clenched fist. 

“Fighting!” 

“You motherfucker!”

Genuinely startled when familiar large hands engulf your waist and turn you around, you come face to face with Jeno, out of breath and eyes wild with fear. 

“Are you alright?!” He starts gently patting your cheeks, gaze fluttering over your body, “Are you hurt anywhere?!”

Jeno’s eyes flicker to the top of the hill, anger still set deep in his eyebrows. “Was that him!? The attacker?” 

“W-What? What attacker!? Why would I be hurt—?” 

“Jaemin said some guy hit you with his bike!!” 

Leaning over to peer past Jeno’s forearm, Jaemin jumps when meeting your eyes, slowly placing his foot behind a tree, following it with the other to hide his guilty expression. 

“You… didn’t get hit?” 

Looking back to Jeno’s blinking, confused at your twisted face, you can’t help but laugh at the stupid lie. 

“What— of course not! I’m fine! There’s not even a bike around us anywhere!” 

“Then why did Jaemin—” Jeno catches the sight of chestnut hair flapping at the top of the hill, peeking eyes blinking over the two of you. “These dumb idiots…” 

He’s tonguing at the inside of his cheek, head thrown back in annoyance. You suck your mouth in at that, finally realizing what Jaemin and Hyuck had planned behind both of your backs. Rubbing at your forearms, you cave in on yourself, shoulders drooping in anxiety. 

Heart beating out of your chest, you open your mouth to speak up but Jeno suddenly whips his head forward to peer straight into your eyes.

His mouth opens to start talking more but something within himself forces him to stop. It was just like the last time you two fatefully argued. 

As he considers how to put out his words, your facial expression is wide and hopeful. It causes Jeno’s heart to stutter. Suppressing himself from seeing you for an entire week was a complete miracle and a curse. 

Sure, it felt good when his phone would light up, vibrating with your caller id on his phone. But leaving it unanswered made his stomach twist the first two days. After that, Jeno would constantly look to see if you had called again, like the imbecile he knew he was being in this situation. 

Attempting to own up to how mean he was, Jeno would hover over the call button on your contact… but your profile picture would always halt his thumb from facing you head-on. 

Both of your backs are facing the camera but you’re clearly smiling up at him in the picture. Your eyes are crinkled up to and although you always love to point out how endearing his squinted eyes were, he’s never had the courage to say yours were cuter in his opinion. 

From there on, Jeno would think of how you smile when Mark is around. Like that time in the commons, or at the picnic table under the willow tree, or at that stupid sleepover. Jealousy would consume him and slide a hazy, red-tinted window of anger over his vision before Jeno tosses his phone away. 

But a few moments later, he’ll feel guilt and stupidity for acting possessive of you. He had no right. You’re weren’t his and you never were.You never would be if he didn’t even take the chance to tell you how he’s felt for the past two years… You must hate him, you must absolutely loathe him for pushing you away like this… 

He hates it too. 

The wise phrase— “You only miss what you have until it’s gone,” is entirely true and Lee Jeno would bet everything on those words. If only he could turn back time and take back that small moment of curiosity at the 127 frat party. If only he hadn’t felt the urge to see whether his small suspicion of Mark liking you was anything solid. If only he hadn’t placed that bet and gotten your interest piqued. 

But you deserve to be happy. Jeno, as your best friend, should want you to be happy. And right now, you weren’t if you were scared of losing him. The sooner Jeno gets over you, the sooner you could be happy again. 

With this in mind, Jeno swallows harshly while digging his hands into his pockets, ready to get rejected. “Y/N, I’m sorry for ignoring you this past week. I’ve… been thinking a lot…” 

You let Jeno talk, knowing he needs to get something off his chest. Seeing his face contort with how much he’s been holding in, your grip on your forearms tighten to avoid trying to comfort Jeno.

“You should be mad at me for how childish I’ve been acting over this bet, right?” Jeno peeks at your expression, flickering between the ground and your expression. You don’t give anything away though, only tucking your lips into your mouth. 

“I’m sorry.”

“For what specifically?” 

He hums, trying to gain confidence to look forward. “Just being a dick. I know we don’t have many big disagreements so I’m sorry you had to learn I tend to push people away like this when I get angry.” 

Your laugh twinkles in his ears and Jeno can’t help but smile softly. “Oh, I know, you meathead. I just tended to be a bystander and not on the receiving end of the silent treatment.”

His lips quirk up when you cross your arms, brows furrowed. “Cute.”

For once, he finally gives into the urge of telling you, smiling. 

“Horrible timing, Jeno,” You slap his arm out of complete habit, embarrassment getting the best of you. Jeno can only grin, happy to see your crinkled eyes make an appearance. 

“And also, I look cute everyday.” 

“You do.” 

Squinting, you shake your head. “You’re buttering me up to accept this semi-shitty apology, aren’t you?” 

Jeno’s shoulders shake in amusement. “Princess, stop thinking I have an ulterior motive all the time.” 

“What’s all these compliments with the apology then? Are you going to tell me why you got so angry over this bet?” The rambling starts, questions spilling forward while you momentarily forget to tell Jeno your feelings, “I mean, I know we’re both competitive, and maybe I was taking it too far by getting Mark somewhat on my side to make you nervous—”

“You what—?”

You wave away Jeno’s indignation. “But I promise he doesn’t know what the bet is about! He just knows he’s involved! I’m still really confused why you pushed me away in the first place though because you’re the one who proposed the bet first! Really, if anything, you should have realized how unfair the bet on your side was before remaking the rules—”

Jeno sighs before interrupting you, bracing for the worst with cringed teeth. “It’s because I like you.” 

The swallow of your saliva while rambling makes it halfway down your throat before you cough, turning in shock to not spit in Jeno’s face. You accidently meet Hyuck’s gaze, his own irises widening on his friend’s confession. Somewhere in the background, the loudest gasp is heard very conspicuously behind a tree. 

“And I know I’m fucking stupid and horrifically dumb for not realizing it until you started getting really close to Mark but—” Jeno rubs at the back of his neck, unwilling to see your reaction to his words. 

“Sounds very toxic for your masculinity—” 

Jeno clears his throat awkwardly.

“But—! I’m working on it. I also know you really don’t see me like that, knowing how upset you were about how I was talking about Mark—”

You tug at one of Jeno’s arms, panicking at his assumptions. “How do you know I don’t see you like that?”

Jeno’s eyes go as wide as saucers. “Are you saying you do?”

“I mean…” You chuckle, gesturing towards the two mutual friends you had camping around the both of you, and then to your outfit, “Hyuck got me to wear a dress in the middle of November. What other special occasions like confessing to my crush would require me to look like this? ” 

Jeno snorts, tucking your hair behind your ear. “Well, in your usual words, fashion sacrifices. And you look very pretty. Unfortunately, I’m all sweaty from sprinting here after thinking you got hurt.” 

You curl your arms around Jeno’s neck, grinning with a slight laugh. “Oh yeah, you’re a real idiot for falling for those words so easily.”

“Seems like you’re stuck with this idiot now…” Jeno swallows roughly, smiling eyes darting to your lips, “Will you go out with me?” 

You lean in, a hair's breadth away from making you two official.

“Bet.” 

|—————|

“What did your mom say about dinner?” 

Humming, you start the timer and face your phone’s screen up, returning to join Jeno’s watch party of the Yeri and company’s picnic table. Hyuck was over there currently, rubbing shoulders with the older girl. 

“You’re all set. She said she’s excited to meet you since Hyuck bragged last break how he got the two of us together.”

Jeno looks away just as Yeri stands up, Joy jumping at her sudden movement. He peers at your side profile and the happy grin you’ve got on. 

“Hyuck did not.” 

You sigh, sending a grin Jeno’s way. “He did. He has my whole family on the edge of their seats, waiting to meet you.” 

Jeno groans, his forehead banging against the picnic table. “Don’t tell me that. Now I have even higher expectations to meet.” 

“Don’t worry,” You drag out while rubbing Jeno’s back, eyes glued to Hyuck slowly backing away from Yeri, “I’ve never brought someone home before but my family knows whoever I will bring home means a lot to me. That’s enough for them, trust me.” 

Jeno turns his head, resting his cheek on the palm of his hand now. “That didn’t make me feel any better.” 

You laugh, pressing a quick peck to your boyfriend’s pouty lips. 

Finally, Hyuck’s signature high-pitched screech of terror alerts everyone in the campus plaza of his next hustle with Yeri. 

Jeno hurriedly peers over to your phone’s screen, collapsing onto the table again in defeat. You don’t have to look at the timer to know you’ve won, instead further attempting to heal Jeno’s suffering this particular bet made back a few months ago and about meeting your parents soon. 

“It was exactly two minutes and fifty-eight seconds.” Jeno groans, muzzling his voice and hair as he tunnels himself into his arms. 

You burst into laughter, leaning on Jeno’s body as Yeri grabs a fistful of snow and makes Hyuck fall on his back with the powerful throw. 

“Please don’t laugh at my pain.” Jeno peeks up at you. 

“No, no, look!” You’re gasping in air as Hyuck slowly gathers himself and starts walking over to you two again, face completely red from the cold snowball launched at it. 

Jeno can’t help but fall in line. As Hyuck approaches you closer, the funniest expression of a defeat is glued on his tomato-colored face. You almost fall back off your seat but Jeno clutches your arm at the last minute. 

“You two enjoy seeing me in pain so much, don’t you?” Hyuck collapses into the bench, a flurry of snow fluttering into the wooden table. You and Jeno bend even farther forward, laughing your asses off. 

“Well I hope that stupid bet you two just had was worth it. Especially given all I’ve done for you idiots…” Hyuck grumbles.

Jeno suddenly stops chuckling, now completely void of any humor and getting up slowly. “About that asshole… what did you say to her parents, huh?”

“What?!” Hyuck’s eyes are humongous, flickering over to you for some help, “Nothing bad, I promise! All good things!”

“Oh, I know you, Lee Donghyuck—”

“— Not the full government name…” You snicker. 

Jeno bends to grab snow, “You and your devilish words probably spilled—”

“Of how much of an asshat you are?” Hyuck daringly leans his chin up, teasing your boyfriend in good fun, “Yeah! Maybe I did.” 

With that, Hyucks rounds the table in a flash, using you as a shield as a snowball fight commences. Renjun, being just around the corner for arriving for the usual lunch, gets a clump of white in the balls and Chenle and Jisung pounce on their oldest friend for fun. Jaemin slinks in to sit on the sidelines calmly until you and Mark target him. 

Your fear of ruining the friend group was irrational and this specific moment solidifies that fact. Because as Jeno drags you to the ground to tickle, fluff in his hair and in yours, you sober up. You take in the moment and hear the sound of those gaggle of chaotic boys you call your friend group in the back before tugging at Jeno’s jacket to meet his cold lips. 

Let’s just say, as the two people being the backbone of eight, you wouldn’t have things any other way. 

[allofuswantgwinam]

jang woo jin x reader

authors note: sooo this is from my old tumblr but i did in fact re do it so if you read it before read it again bc in my opinion i made it better but by redo it i mean edit it and i added some stuffs but still the same story 😂😂 what better way to get back into writing than fixing some old stuff 🥳 i hope y’all like it ☺️

warnings: 18+, smut, dirty talk, unprotected sex, pull out game strong, think he calls her a whore like once, choking, hair pulling, jealousy, smacks her ass like once, if i missed anything lmk

“you.. you wanna go out with HIM???” your best friend jang woo jin yelled exasperatedly while flailing his hands around in the air. you had just confessed your lust for the bullies gopher gwi nam when clearly you should’ve kept it to yourself. “but you hate him!? we all hate him!” he rose his voice in frustration, gripping his hair and looking at you like you have lost your damn mind.

“nooo, don’t twist my words jin! i saaaaid…gwi nam is attractive and that he winked at me when i caught him staring at me today.” you shrugged nonchalantly, not seeing the big deal in the situation. you were sitting on your bed, you had just got home from school and wu jin came to your house with you for a movie night since there wasn’t school the next day. “i also said if he just wanted to hook up i would.. maybe.. possssibily be down..” you confessed halfway, knowing that gwi nam is not exactly a great person regardless if he’s sexy or not, as you tried not to laugh at your dramatic best friend who was pacing your small bedroom.

“he is evil y/n/n.” he said seriously and stopped pacing to look at you with loud annoyance in his eyes. “now let’s pretend you didn’t just say the most idiot shit ever and pick a movie.” he grumbled while walking over to pull you off the bed to help him look through your dvds in the closet. you ended up settling on an action comedy, then got settled on your bed after putting in the dvd. you both were laying next to each other on your bed on top of the covers, looking up at the the tv screen.

it was about halfway through the movie when you noticed woo jin staring at you out of the corner of your eye. “what?” you asked with raised eyebrows and turned to look at him, making him look back at the movie quickly as soon as you turned your head. “hey.” you pushed his shoulder. “why were you staring at me you weirdo.”

he sat there silently for a second, wondering how he should say this. he closed his eyes for a second before speaking up. “why in the fuck… would you wanna bang that asshole?” he asked seriously and turned his face back to yours. “he is like..” he thought for a second, before finishing his sentence with a disgusted look on his face. “actual human Satan.” he sat up criss cross apple sauce and looked down at you where you staid laying flat on your back next to him.

you shrugged with a cheeky lil grin. “i don’t know. i just like the idea of being man handled i guess.” you confessed honestly. you and woo jin were really close. there was basically nothing you couldn’t talk about with each other. or at least that’s what you thought.

you didn’t know it but he liked you. he liked you so much that he swore he would never ever make a move just out of fear that he could lose you completely, but now he’s having second thoughts on keeping quiet. “why are you so concerned with this anyways? it’s not a big deal.” you couldn’t help but laugh at his irritated expression.

“yes it is!” he pushed your shoulder like you did to him a few seconds ago. “i bet he wouldn’t even get you off. he just cares about himself.” he said blatantly causing you to scoff and roll your eyes. “i’m serious Y/N/N! i know he makes you horny or whate-“

“stop!!” you lifted your back off the mattress, blushing profusely and flicked him in the forehead making him tackle you back down on your back. you were so embarrassed you almost wished you never even told him. you didn’t think it would turn into a fucking survey on why you felt that way. “why are you fucking badgering me about this!” you whisper yelled, not wanting your parents to think anything was wrong and come check in. you stared up at him with an agitated look on your face. his hands were pinning your wrists above the pillow your head laid on.

“god please shut up! if you would let me fuckin finish my badgering you would already know.” he said sternly while keeping eye contact with you, taking you by surprise. you couldn’t deny the fact that him being above you, restraining you from any movement was kinda turning you on. he was staring intensely into your eyes, almost daring you to interrupt him again. “i could fuck you better than him.” he stated nonchalantly and tightened his fingers around your wrist. your eyes widen and heart started pumping faster, not knowing what the hell was going on. “you think i won’t? you think i couldn’t respect you and fuck the shit out of you all at the same time? you don’t want that though. you wanna be treated like a useless doll, yeah?” he smirked noticing your thighs squeeze together from your hidden arousal. “why fantasize about him, when the full package has been right in front of you the whole time..” he said softening his demeanor and looked down at your lips not knowing if he should go in for a kiss or prepare to be beat the fuck up for even attempting what he is doing right now.

his chest was hovering yours, close enough to feel his warmth. for the first time you wanted to feel him. all of him. in that moment you needed your best friend to fuck you and give you everything you desired with someone else. “sooo.. are you gonna kiss me or-“ you didn’t even get to finish your sentence before his lips smashed onto yours. he continued to hold your wrists in place with one hand while sliding his other hand down the front of your pj bottoms wasting no time. he slipped his fingers under your panties and moaned lowly onto your lips feeling how wet you are, making you shiver under him. he slowly pressed two fingers on your clit and rubbed in slow circles, making you involuntary spread your legs wider for woo jin. he broke away from your kiss to breathe for a second making you pout your lips at him. you surprisingly enjoyed being dominated by your best friend. you always thought he was cute but you never imagined he would be this bold.

“did i do this?” he smirked, sliding his two fingers from your clit to gather your arousal on his fingers and nibble on your bottom lip while staring sexily into your hooded eyes. you bucked your hips up trying to feel more pressure. “yes.. fuck.” you whined quietly. your parents were just down the hall and you had to keep reminding yourself about that. this was a wonderful surprise but the timing was definitely off.

wu jin took his hand out of your pants and sucked on his fingers pulling them out with a POP sound. you looked at him with pure lust and desire. your confusion to everything that he was saying before was no longer your concern. “how long have you been wanting to fuck me?” you asked randomly and bit your lip at him. you had never ever thought he felt anything more for you other than friendship, let alone jealousy which was pretty clear to you that’s what he was feeling.

“too long.” he answered plainly before engulfing you in another deep kiss. both his hands were pulling your shirt up and you lifted your arms up to help remove it. “holy shit.” he moaned in surprise at your naked chest. with no hesitation he dipped his head down to suck on one of your nipples and pinched the other one roughly, making you let out a small yelp. wu jin couldn’t help but snicker at the sound and lift his head up to look to watch you while he twists and tugs both your nipples. “j-jin please.” you mewled while arching your chest up and tugging on the bottom of his tshirt wanting him to take it off. he obliged and took his shirt off tossing it onto the floor. you slid your pants and panties off quickly, not caring to have them on any longer.

he grabbed your hands, interlocking your fingers and pinning them on the plush pillows above your head, his lips hovering right above yours. “your parents might be up still..” his soft lips ghosted over yours as he whispered. “but i don’t care.” he smiled goofily and let go of your hands to start pulling his pj pants and boxers down. “so you think only assholes could fuck you right,huh?” he chuckled and tossed his bottoms to the floor. you sat there silently, completely exposed to him. you felt vulnerable but also excited. this all happened so quickly you didn’t really have time to comprehend what was happening. “is that what you want? to be treated like shit?” he whispered aggressively and wrapped his hand around your throat, making you gasp followed by a moan and a smile. you were dripping at this point. he lined his tip up with your entrance and slid in slowly.

“f-fuck.. so fucking tight.. and wet as fuck.” the raging boy grunted, looking down where your bodies meet, watching every inch of him disappear in your welcoming cunt. “such a filthy girl.. letting me fuck you with your parents awake down the hall. what would they think, hmm?” he gripped your throat tighter, but not enough to hurt you. “if they knew what a fucking whore their daughter is?” he growled, bottoming out inside you.

“p-please fuck me.” you whimpered with pleading eyes while digging your nails into his biceps. not caring about your parents. not giving a fuck if they heard you, the neighbors heard you, anyone. you needed this. his hand was still gripping your throat, holding your head down on the pillow. he was scowling down at you watching your face scrunch up in pleasure because of him being the one stretching you with his cock; not gwi nam. HIM. you had never been so aroused in your life, you felt like you could explode.

“i don’t know.” he faked in thought, loving the power he has over you right now and slowly started moving inside you, being petty. he used his free hand to squeeze one of your breasts. “you might get us caught.” he smirked making you whine and give him a cute but frustrated look. “ya know. cause you’ll be screaming.” he grinned in confidence giving you a hard and deep thrust, making you almost let out a loud moan but he stopped it with a rough kiss. “you can’t be loud ok?” he demanded, keeping his hips still and put a finger to your lips signaling to keep it hush. “trust me i wanna hear you, but this time we gotta be careful, yeah? well.. you do..” he chuckled and shoved your legs open more, removing his hand form your neck.

‘this time’ kept echoing in your head. you’ve just barely comprehended everything happening in this moment and he’s already planning on it happening more!? you had chills all over your body from the excitement. your walls were pretty sound proof in your house and your parents really like woo jin. they wouldn’t ever think he would be fucking their daughter in their house unbeknownst to them. they thought he was a good friend for you and considered him a second child, but you didn’t act siblings.

“what the hell has gotten into you?” you smiled and bit your lip, staring up at him with stars in your eyes. “are you jealous or something?” you moaned softly closing your eyes when he started biting and Sucking up your chest, leaving a trail of hickies, to your neck.

“maybe.” he nibbled on your earlobe and sucked the skin. he started fucking you hard and gripping your hips tight enough you know there will be bruises later. “maybe i-I’m jealous that y-you..shit.” he growled in your ear and dropped his face in your neck. you wrapped your legs around his waist and clawed his back, biting down on his shoulder trying to contain your moaning. “t-that you want that asshole and n-not me.” he sort of confessed.

“d-don’t want him.” you breathlessly informed him once again and kissed his neck, moaning and whimpering in his ear. he stopped his thrusts and flipped you onto all fours, making you squeal in surprise. you dropped your head on your pillow and looked back at him, pressing your chest into the mattress. his chest was puffing up and down from adrenaline, his cheeks were pink, his hair was in a sexy mess. you’re almost grateful he built up this tension so this could happen. you started to think maybe this wasn’t a mistake. “you look so fucking sexy right now..” you grinned at him and pushed your hips back onto his wanting him to fuck you like hes ran his mouth about.

he put one hand on your hip to keep you still and yanked your head back by your hair with the other so your back was against his chest. his lips were brushing your ear as he spoke gruffly. “you didn’t think so a little bit ago.” he bit your neck and sucked a deep bruise while sliding his hand from your hip down to your heat. “you said gwi nam was hot because he’s mean.” he started rubbing your clit slowly and bucked his hips up, his cock still deep inside you, making you moan and your pussy clench around his length. he let go of your hair and clasped his hand over your mouth. “i can be so much worse… right now im gonna fuck the hell out of you and you can’t even scream. you just have to take it.” you felt his lips curl into a big smirk against your ear. “unless you wannna get caught.” he taunted and started pounding up into you, hitting your g spot with every thrust. the movie was loud enough it covered the sound of his hips clapping against your ass. he slid his hand from your clit up your stomach back up to your throat.

“mmajshd!!” your screams were muffled from his hand covering your mouth. his other hand was hugging your neck and lightly cutting off your air flow, which was such a turn on. he was drilling into you relentlessly, fucking you like he would never have the chance again.

“you like this don’t you.” he grunted as his thrusts become sloppy. “being fucked like i own you.” he removed his hand from your throat to slap your ass. he felt your pussy clench harder around him and slowed his thrusts, making you groan against his palm in annoyance and need. “tell me it’s mine.” he demanded continuing his teasingly slow thrusts and removed his from your mouth.

“please, it’s yours. it’s all fucking yours.” you whimpered without hesitation and tried to wiggle your hips back into him to feel more pleasure. he immediately placed his hand back over your mouth and started fucking you with no remorse. you felt your release building up, wu Jin was panting hot in your ear. “fuuuck!!” you screamed into his hand and felt your orgasm take over your body.

“shit baby.” the salty boy grunted and panted in your ear, feeling his own orgasm coming. “f-fucking so good for me.” his thrusts start faltering as he let your body drop onto the mattress and he pulls out of you, shooting his warm load onto your back.

you laid there on your stomach in complete exhaustion. your body was done and you couldn’t believe it was because of none other than your bestie jang wu jin. “you still think gwi is hot?” he asked breathlessly, with a smug look on his face while wiping off your lower back with one of his socks, knowing he couldn’t leave the room for a towel.

“who?” you chuckled and rolled over onto your back to look up at who used to be just your smart ass best friend.

[liannelara-dracula]

Hello...can you make love aesthetic of Yuma ,ruki and kou

Yuma Mukami Lover Aesthetic + Hcs

"I never knew a better sound than my name on your lips"

Hi Love,

Sorry for all the wait. I will link the other ones as soon as possible below. I hope you like it and I'm sorry if the others don't come out to be as long as this one.

-> Kou's version

-> Ruki's version

-Liannelara

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

Prompt

Requests are open

Rules

Warning:

*certain words have been censored for Tumblr guidelines.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

He met her in the woods. This was back in the 1800s. She was a slave girl in a European village. She had been sold off by her parents to work for others, and she was beaten and bruised as a kid.

At some point, a wealthy family bought her as a servant, and they also ab*sed her. She was mistreated repeatedly, but she stayed because they provided for her.

She fell in love with the family's son, so they beat her and tossed her out into the woods by the lake, covered in dirt and bruises. Her clothes were tattered and b⸸oodstained too.

Seeing she had nowhere to go, she lived outside in the woods by the lake. The girl had to make the most of it while she was by herself. She took whatever she could find for food and clothes. Most times, she wore thin cotton dresses, and they were filthy and worn out. She used to sleep outside on the grass fields and by the trees. 

Now when Yuma met her he was out in the woods one day in the evening (he was a vamp at this point) and it was by the lake.

And since there was no other way to clean herself the girl always used the lake as a way to clean herself up. So like every other time she stripped from her clothes and swam for a bit.

Now I picture that Yuma was walking by the lake and he heard some splashing noises and so he took a look from afar. He saw a girl swimming in the lake. He eventually got closer to the lake to see but she still hadn’t noticed that someone was watching her.

It wasn’t until she came up to get air that he noticed she was topless in front of him.

Of course, here she’d scream and he'd just be annoyed, mostly cause he just doesn't care if she's n@ked.

"Damn woman, quit screaming!" He'd say, covering his ears.

Yuma saw how this girl only hid behind the boulder that was big enough to cover her n@kedness.

"Here. Put this on." He'd say handing her the dress.

Instead of listening she just watched him seeing that she wasn't sure to trust him.

"Look you can't hide in the lake the whole time. You'll catch a cold."

After changing and slipping on her dress which clung to her wet body she walked away to gather her things.

“Hey, are you lost or something?” Yuma would ask fighting the urge to help or not. “You shouldn’t be out here on your own. These woods ain’t safe at night.” He added on.

Seeing she didn't respond he got annoyed and raised his voice a bit. “Hey, I’m talking to you, the least you could do is answer me?”

She stopped knowing that if she didn’t answer he might not leave her alone. She looked down, her hair in her face a bit as she mumbled, “I’m fine. Don’t need anything.” She shivered from the cold and the possibility of this going all wrong.

It seemed like she was upset after answering him because she ended up walking away from him.

Seeing this, Yuma decided to watch her to see where she was actually going. Something about her just seemed off.

So he watched her and saw that she slept outside beside a tree and he just felt bad for her bc he knows what that is like. The next morning he waited at the lake and she ended up being there, washing some things that she had to wash. 

He startled her and told her to shut up about it.

“You shouldn’t sneak up on someone like that!”

“Ya, well you don’t really notice your surroundings that well.” 

She scoffed, “Why are you following me?” She asked, still not looking at him.

“I brought you something, I know it’s not much but you probably haven’t seen one of these in a while.” He’d say crouching down to her level to give her the apple in his hand.

She was hesitant to take it bc she was worried she’d get in trouble bc she was never allowed to actually eat better food when she was a slave to that previous family.

“Hey, it’s not poisonous. I grew it myself.” His response was honest and so she took the apple and placed it in the pocket of her dress.

“Thank you, sir.” She said, she was trying to show her gratitude by addressing him since she was used to being people’s slave.

Yuma was taken back by it and felt hella awkward. “Look, I’m not your master or anything, so don’t say things like that!”

“But then how’d you grow this? You have to be well off to own a field.”

“I like to garden.” He’d say looking down at her as her beat hands scrubbed the cloth. She nodded at this and understood.

“Do you have a name?” Yuma waited for her to answer.

“A name?”

“Yeah, you a foreigner or somethin’? Cause it sounds like you don’t understand some stuff I’m saying.”

“Ah, I just, I don’t really have a name . . . ” She practically whispered, “I don’t have a birthday either.”

She might have a spring name or something sweet like Juliette or Yulianna. But I think Yuma will give her a name (I’ll talk about it further down).

“Huh, it’s a shame  . . .  I’m Yuma.” 

“Y . . . Yuma?” She’d trail off in thought. “How do you spell that?” She looked at him in utter confusion but also curiosity.

“So you never went to school either ay?”

“I used to go to reform schools but I didn’t stay long enough. But I learned the alphabet thanks to someone I know.” She smiled to herself thinking of the boy she loved and how he helped her with reading on the days his parents weren’t around. 

“Damn, you really are dense.”

There was silence between them, even tho he technically insulted her she just decided to ignore it but Yuma couldn’t settle for less. He took a stick and started writing his name in the dirt.

“Alright, I’m only gonna show ya once. So look here.” He said cutting the silence. She had finished cleaning and put the clothes into a basket. Hearing this she walked over to him to look at what he wrote.

“. . . y-u . . . ?” The girl traced her fingers on the engraved letters, struggling to remember the next letters.

“‘m-a’. Tch, man, that person who taught you surely didn’t do a great job.” He degraded, even tho that’s not what he really wanted to say to her.

This hurt her feelings, causing her to frown. “At least, he was kind to me.”

Yuma focused more on his senses and was able to pick up the scent of b⸸ood from her. And decided to help her seeing he knew that she wasn’t healing. He assumed she had more than just bruises on her body judging by her scent. He could smell b⸸ood and that her flesh wasn’t healing. So he took matters into his own hands and brought her home wherever he and his brothers were staying at.

He was hoping Ruki could help him but he wasn’t there so he just had to put his skills to use in order to help her. Luckily he knew a thing or two and so he got her to shower and he did his best in treating her. 

Considering he needed to know where she was injured he had to have her show him but bc it was all over her body she didn’t want to. And knowing how Yuma is so shameless he just started to unbutton her dress to see where the cuts were but they had a bit of argument. But overall he did his best to help. 

Yuma made her stay because he told her she needs to rest and plus Ruki didn’t care but he did want him to keep an arm's distance because he could get attached. Although rather than getting better she started to feel worse because her wounds were infected. Yuma felt bad for her seeing how much she twitched in pain with the side effects of the healing medicine Ruki had tried to put on her in order to help.

Ruki had to tell Yuma that he had to let her go because she was too weak to live at this point.

“C’mon man there’s gotta be something.”

“Yuma, you and I both know her body is rotting. Her scent has changed since she came here.”

“I know . . . but I don’t want to tell her she’s dy!ng. She's young, man. She could have a life.” 

She’d be lying on his bed barely on the verge of being awake anymore but her persistent coughs stirred her awake constantly. When she saw Yuma come in and sit next to her, she smiled, “Thank you.”

He looked at her with his brows furrowed, “For what? It’s not like I saved you.”

“No, but you tried. That counts, even if I’m going to d!e---” She said stopping due to her having a coughing fit.

“You’re not dy!ng today.” It was the last thing he told her before having her turn.

He only managed to have this happen because he asked Karlheinz to spare her life and he said he would if he agreed to not love her.

She ended up living with Yuma and his brothers seeing she was supposed to.  When she first woke up and realized she didn’t d!e she was confused, Yuma was the first person she saw when she was awake and he tried to explain, but she didn’t accept what he told her.

He taught her how to feed which didn’t go very well seeing that she didn’t want to. Yuma gave up trying to teach her and asked Ruki for help instead seeing he had a more gentle approach it worked.

She didn’t have much of a wardrobe so he took her out so she could buy fabric and sew herself some dresses. He even paid for it bc he felt bad and he wanted to give her something to wear. 

I picture that when she was done making them she tried one on and showed it to him. He thought it looked good and was surprised she could be so handy.

Although she is in the times when girls are neglected Yuma doesn’t do that to her, he treats her as an equal in fact all of his brothers do too. Yuma’s honestly a little too tough on her but considering she was a slave she’s used to it. She doesn’t even complain about it. 

She didn’t get along with him at first bc of what he did but the more she thought about it and got to know him she wasn’t upset.

She had to help out with chores and he typically did them with her unless one of his brothers was already helping. Apart from their plantation they also took care of animals because they are wealthy and back then people used to buy land and make a living off of animals and what they grew so she’d help out with animals. 

And I think she used to feed the pigs and Yuma thought it was cute and I think that’s where he got this “little pig,” (this is not canon it’s just an idea I had).

One time Kou tried giving her all the work because he was being lazy and Yuma was so upset that he got into a fight with him. She tried to stop them and she only got hurt in the process.

He felt so guilty for bruising her, that he apologized and stuck a sugar cube in her mouth. She didn’t know what to say because she felt it was strange.

She’s also never had sugar so she was surprised about the taste.

Yuma made her work in the garden with him sometimes when he needed extra help. And honestly, he gets mad if she makes a mistake. Although she usually knows what to do. 

He likes to watch her work because she’s gentle and even nice to the small animals and doesn’t k!ll the insects.

I could see she doesn’t like to eat tomatoes so when he shoved one in her mouth she made a face before swallowing. And he was upset that she didn’t like them.

Yuma was mean to her for a good while since he’s kind of harsh and so I’m not surprised if he called her stupid/ other insensitive things a bunch of times to the point where he made her cry. It was in the kitchen when she just made a small mistake or something and his brothers saw everything.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to--”

“You know you really are stupid, you ever wondered if that’s why that family threw ya out!? You can be so dense--”

“You’re crying? You gotta be kidding me!”

“D-don’t you ever feel bad for what you say to people? . . . I have feelings t-too you know?” She said between hiccups. “But maybe you forgot what that feels like because you haven’t been human in so long but it really hurts. A-and I just d-don’t understand . . . if you h-hate me so much then why did you turn me!? Am I really that h-horrible?  . . . W-why didn’t you just let me d!e?” She sobbed in her hands uncontrollably leaving him a little shocked and for his brothers to scold him, especially Kou since he took a liking to her and felt bad for her.

Eventually, they made up and were a bit more honest with each other. It’s honestly when he started to be a little weird bc he liked her and she kinda felt strange about it seeing he was nice to her. Well, he did his best.

There was one time they were outside in town and she was cold and he put his rustic sweater on her bc he said it was too hot anyway. So she wore it and smiled secretly finding it kinda funny bc he didn’t know how to be nice.

One time she made a cherry pie and he was watching her in the kitchen until Kou pointed it out.

“You’re watching her?”

“I’m waiting till she messes up.”

“Uh-huh, you know she’s better than Ruki.”

Kou has even pushed you two together because he knows what’s up. And Yuma’s mad at him for it. I think it’s because this is like the first woman he’s ever been serious about.

And tbh she’s kinda clueless about his feelings at first since she feels like it’d be to weird to imagine.

Because fall is harvest season he becomes extra busy in his garden which meant that he wanted her to help. I honestly see that she’d mess with him too.

I think she splashed water on him and it was a never-ending water fight.

He’d chase her around the garden sometimes.

Although when things got really strange he once k!ssed her while showing her how to harvest one of the plants. (depending on how you cut your plant when you need the leaves or flowers you can potentially stop the plant growth so you gotta be careful.)

He caught her completely off guard, so much that she just panicked and turned the other way even tho he just k!ssed her again thinking it was fun to mess with her.

He’d even ask her if she was embarrassed because he sucks.

Although she got him back when they were walking around in town and she k!ssed his cheek in front of his brothers.

It was kind of her way of confirming how she felt with the k!ss he gave her before.

Oh before I forget to mention since she doesn’t have a name she goes by because people always changed it he just called her little pig or you bc he didn’t know what else to call her. However when they were a couple he actually gave her, her name.

“Hey, you ever thought of giving yourself a name? It’s getting tiring just saying ‘you’ all the time.” He’d say looking at the new plants that were sprouting.

She sat on the bench in his garden weaving a basket, “Oh yeah, hmm I was thinking maybe something like Violet?” 

“Violet? You sure, you don’t really look like a Violet?” He disagreed thinking she should find a better name.

“How about ‘Poppy’?”

“Nah.”

“Rosemary?”

“You really wanna be named after a plant, little pig?” He chuckled.

“Well, all of the people I have served always asked me for a name and a lot of the times the only words I could get out of my mouth were names of plants or flowers since I work with them a lot and plus my parents never gave me a name because they thought I was never worthy of one and I’ve been to shy to give a real one.  . . . so, I don’t really know what name a girl could have . . . Hey, Yuma, what do you think should be my name?”

“You want me to choose?” He turned to look at her as he tended to his plants, his brows furrowed at this.

She stopped her weaving, holding the straw in her hands, “Yeah, what name do you think suits me?”

He walked over to her, taking a seat next to her, “Hmm, how about piglet?”

“Yuma, I’m being serious. You didn’t like what I suggested so what should my name be? It’s better if you choose.” She insisted, hitting his shoulder playfully.

“Alright, alright . . . how about, Y/n?” He’d ask brushing a strand of her hair behind her ear.

(If you don’t want it to be an x reader or you don’t like your name I really see him suggesting the name Juliette or even Yulianna but I mostly see Juliette).

“I like it.” She smiled at him. 

Since she has low literacy judging by the time this is taking place I think Ruki taught her but Yuma was the one to help her practice and he was a bit of a jerk sometimes. He was kinda hard on her too but if she did really well he’d give her a sugar cube.

Or he’d give her a day of no chores and take her anywhere she’d want to go in town. So it’s like going on a date.

On one of her outings, she saw that boy she used to like and his family. They tried to bother her and Yuma got mad and she kinda ended up telling him about it.

From then on he was kinda protective of her just a little more and slightly worried. He was mad that people did that to her too.

I’m not sure when he started to like her but once he realized it he tried to ignore it.

Here are what the pics mean in their relationship:

Hands--it kinda resembles their relationship in the beginning of how close they are but not close enough.

Hair with soap -- he’d wash her hair cause he likes to pamper her in that way.

He also just wants to join her in showering, so not surprised if they’ve gone skinny dipping in a lake tbh.

Girl and Iips -- In the pic she’s kinda sweaty so this just imagery of when she’s working hard and Yuma thinks she looks attractive with sweat coming down her neck from the sun and all that. This usually happens when she’s doing chores and hard labor. Since this was back in the 1800s and they have a house with a lot of land so it requires maintenance and the animals to take care of too.

Rustic Sweater girl and boy -- It’s his sweater but he gives it to her a lot of the time to stay warm. And he likes it on her. 

At some point, she was just stealing his clothes cause they were big on her.

Girl under a tree (exposed) -- Represents the first time she met him where she was n@ked and how she’s been n@ked in front of him various times. Mostly when she’s showering or changing. Although it's just cause he walks in on her a lot.

Autumn trees -- the season of when they met and their favorite time of year.

I also picture that she loves to jump in leaf piles and he just looks at her like she’s dumb to even tho he loves her.

Hands against the wall / intertwined -- His intimacy, he’s a rough guy, need to say anymore?

Pie -- She likes to bake and he likes watching her. And I think he likes pies because of her.

White linger*e -- He likes to see her in white and cute frilly things that are kinda girly cause he likes it on her.

Apart from this I think their love was pretty peaceful but things changed after a while and it was either because she d!ed or because he left her.

I see it mostly that he left her and it's not cause he didn’t love her he just didn’t want her to be part of Karlheinz’s plans and so he struck a deal with him to let her go.

And she was honestly just upset and hurt by him deciding for her. She was no longer in his life afterward. He actually left her without a word so that hurt because she never heard from him again.

So then she just had to move on and he did too. I don’t think she ever saw him again.

She still has that rustic sweater and never forgot about it.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

˗ˏˋ 𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑚𝑦 𝑤𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑖𝑠 𝑜𝑟𝑖𝑔𝑖𝑛𝑎𝑙 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝐼 𝑑𝑜 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑜𝑤𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑟𝑎𝑐𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑠 ˎˊ˗ ©𝟐𝟎𝟏𝟔~Present

[jakesimfromstatefarm]

not jealous | jake sim

summary: jake sim is not a jealous person. at least that's what he tells himself. so why does he find himself going through your phone when a certain "bluejay park" decides to text you?

pairing: jake sim x y/n [ft. mentions of jay park]

genre: angst, fluff 

warnings: angst, cursing (very minimal), one slightly suggestive sentence, jake being cute, some more angst lol, slightly cheesy bc jake’s just too cute ugh

wc: 3.8k

a/n: ok i loved writing this, which is why i went on to almost 4k words LOL oops. but anyways, i love jake a little too much and this type of scenario has been running around in my head for a while now so i decided to put it into words. also i may have created this blog just so i could post this somewhere LMAO anyways yeah this was my first fic so hope you guys enjoyyyy <3

Jake Sim is not a jealous person.

At least that's what he tells himself. To be fair, in his past relationships, he never showed any jealously. Then again, he doesn't know if he can call those relationships, "relationships". Does a fifth grade relationship with a girl who he was once dared to kiss during a game of Truth or Dare in the basement of a classmate's house during their 11th birthday party count? He doesn't remember being jealous when the same girl was later dared to kiss his classmate, Sunghoon. (Funny enough, that's how the two boys came to be best friends 'til this day, but that's a story for another time.) 

But really, Jake doesn't think jealously is one of his traits, even if he's now almost 20 years old without any experience with love other than his current relationship with you and that short-lived romance in the fifth grade. (What was her name again? Jake would have to ask Sunghoon later.)

So he doesn't know what clicked in that brain of his that lead him to this current situation he was in. He doesn't know why he felt a little spark of anger in him when your phone, which you left right next to him on the couch while you went to take a shower, kept buzzing with texts from "bluejay park". He doesn't know why he couldn't kept his eyes distracted from the messages, although your phone was constantly lighting up because whatever it was Jay had to say to you, he would not shut up about it. He doesn't know why he questioned what your relationship with Jay was for a split second.

In fact, you're close with all of Jake's friends. That's one of his favorite things about you, you get along so well with all his friends you might as well replace Jake himself in the friend group. So he doesn't know what tells him to take a little glance at your phone—at the messages.

But he finds himself doing it anyways.

Hearing that the water in the shower was still running (you were always the type to take long showers), he quickly grabs your phone and scrolls through the lock screen just to find that he couldn't even read the messages since you had your notifications set so no one could read them unless the phone was unlocked (darn you and your settings!) Thankfully, Jake knew your passcode––and you knew his too––or he thought he did. Until the iPhone vibrated, telling him the passcode was wrong.

He must've entered it too fast or something. So he tries again.

And again.

And again.

Until the iPhone switches its screen to say: "iPhone is disabled. Try again in 5 minutes."

There's no way. You never change your password. And even if you did, you would tell him—you two even had each other's fingerprints saved into each other's phones in the past (you know, before the world decided that Apple's home button was too lame and decided to just completely get rid of it). If there was an option to save multiple faces for Face ID, you two would be that couple that saved each others faces in your own phones.

That being said, Jake sat there, your phone in hand, frozen. Why was your phone locked? Why was Jay texting you 10 texts per second? Why did he feel guilty about this entire situation?

He hears the shower switch off and in that moment, he swears he feels his heart beat just a little faster. He tells himself there's no way you'll be out before the 5 minutes are up. You followed a really meticulous skincare routine (one that Jake memorized by now) that took an extra 15 minutes of your time after each shower.

"Hey Jake?" Your voice calls out from the tiny bathroom door crack that you left open before you hopped in the shower, "Is my phone out there? Do you mind bringing it to me?"

Fuck.

Jake shifts on the couch. Taps his foot on the ground. Returns your phone to its original spot. Clears his throat.

"Don't you want to get dressed first?" he calls back, quite timidly.

He can hear you stop moving around in the bathroom. Probably telling yourself what an odd response that was. To be fair, it was an odd question, considering the fact that you two have been together for so long, it’s not like he hasn’t seen you undressed before...intentionally or not. 

Next thing he knows, the steam is rolling out of the bathroom door and you're stepping out in your towel, eyebrows raised.

"If you didn't want to get up from the couch, you could've just said so, you lazy butt," you smirk at him as you walk towards him and the couch, leaving a faint trail of water drops behind you. Jake's eyes follow your figure as you go to grab your phone and lift the screen towards yourself.

That's when he freezes. You do too.

You cock your head, as if asking yourself why it was disabled. He can hear the gears in your head turning.

"Jake, did you try to unlock my phone?"

He runs through all the possible excuses he could blurt out. Come on Jake, think of something! But he knows he can't lie to you.

Too many beats of silence pass by.

"Maybe," he finally says—or more like murmurs. He looks up to you like a child looking up at their mom, who just them caught stealing a cookie from the cookie jar. To his surprise, you don't show any hint of anger. A flash of confusion—and is that worry he sees?—crosses your face for a split second before you shrug and turn towards your room to change, dropping the subject. It was natural for you two to use each other's phones anyways. So then why did you have that look of worry?

Jake knows you well, a little too well. But that's what you love about him. He can easily read all your emotions. One of the many things he picked up from dating you for almost two years now. But why would you care if he tried to get into your phone? Why would that worry you? All the possibilities run through head and his own worry begins to increase. He trusts you. He does.

So then why does the thought bother him throughout the entire day? Why does he bring it up during dinner later that night, when you're both cuddled on your sofa, slurping take-out ramen while rewatching your favorite k-drama under the thick blanket that you always keep in your living room for nights like these?

"Huh? Of course I've heard from Jay today, we had that conversation about that stupid meme you boys kept laughing about in the groupchat we're all in, didn't we?" You answer him when he asks if you've heard from Jay lately. You sit up from your warm spot under Jake's arm to put your empty bowl on the coffee table in front of you. When you lean back, you look up at him,

"Why do you ask?"

"Oh, it's nothing, just wondering," he says, avoiding your eyes by keeping his own trained on the series currently playing on your TV. This would be your third time rewatching this series together. He would never complain to you though, he knows how much you love it and if he were being honest, he was secretly attached to the characters—not that he would ever tell you, he would never hear the end of it from you and the boys.

"You're being weird. Just tell me, or did you forget that I can practically read your mind," you say with a giggle and shove to his side, the one you were currently warmly cuddled into. Jake wasn't the only one who learned how to read emotions; you could read him just as well as he could read you. And like you, that's one of the many things he loved about you. But maybe not in this case.

He toyed around with the contents inside his ramen bowl with his chopsticks.

"I just..." God, how does he word this? Why was he having trouble explaining it? You were the easiest person to talk to. To him, you were the only person he could tell everything to.

"Jaywastextingyouabunchearlier," he blurts out quickly, but not quickly enough for you to miss it.

He feels you shift under his arm. He feels the air in the room shift. Tension.

"What?" Now you're sitting upright, legs criss-crossed in front of you on the couch but turned, so your body is completely facing him. He mirrors you, sitting up to put his ramen bowl next to yours on the surface, but he stays facing the TV.

"Your phone kept going off because of him when you were showering," he says with a little more confidence. But inside, he was nervous as hell, the same nervous as when he asked you out for the first time many moons ago. But it's too late to back out now, he brought it up first, anyways. Guess we're having this conversation now, good going Jake!

"Is that why you tried unlocking my phone earlier? I mean I thought you were just trying to leave selfies on my phone like you always do but you were trying to read my texts?" You question, slightly raising your soft voice. He doesn't know how to react, he hates confrontation.

"It wasn't like that, Jay just kept spamming you and like I—why was he even texting you in the first place? Then your phone got disabled because you changed your password, which you never do by the way, so I–"

"I changed it because my little sister kept getting into my phone when I went to visit my family yesterday! Did you really think I was hiding something from you? You know I can text whoever I want, right? You don't own me."

Okay so now he's managed to make you angry. Good going Jake, part 2!

"Okay but what does Jay need from you so bad that he has to send you like 50 messages at once?" He's standing now. So are you, eyebrows furrowed together as you collect your bowls from the table.

Standing there, bowls in hand, you say, "Jake, that's none of your business! It wasn't even that big of a deal, I don't know why you felt the need to nosy around."

"Well, if he's texting you non-stop, then obviously it's a big deal! We wouldn't even be having this conversation if you would just tell me what you guys were talking about," he murmurs back, eyes narrowing. You scoff as you trail into your kitchen. He follows behind and stops at the other side at your kitchen island as you place the dirty dishes into the sink.

"No, we're having this conversation because you obviously don't trust me! It doesn't matter what we were talking about, it doesn't matter who I was texting! I could be texting your mother and I shouldn't have to tell you what we were talking about! That's why we're having this conversation," you say as you turn back to face him from the other end.

He hates this. He hates fighting with you (which is a very, very rare occasion). He hates that you think he doesn't trust you. He hates his insecurity eating at him, telling him to keep questioning you on why you and Jay were talking in the first place. He was aware that you were close with his friends, but it wasn't until the texts he realized just how close you are with them. It's not that he didn't trust you, he just didn't know how to act when it came to you and other guys. God knows how he got lucky enough to meet you, let alone date you, so the thought of him losing you to someone else actually terrified him. Not only were you his first real relationship, but he wanted you to be his first and only one in life. You were it for him.

"Why did he text you." He deadpans from his side of the kitchen.

You scoff with a hint of exasperation. "You're kidding me."

You stare at him. He stares back, quirking an eyebrow, as if restating the same question back, as if testing you.

You're fuming now. Why was he making it so hard? Why was he doubting you? Out of frustration, you start laughing, which scares him. That can't be good.

"Fine. You wanna know so bad? Take a look,"  you're one tone level away from screaming as you take your phone out of your pocket, unlock it, and open up your conversation with "bluejay park", sliding the phone across the island to reach him.

Jake stares at the phone which now lies there, unlocked, facing him. Isn't this what he wanted? It is, right? That's why he started this dreaded argument with you in the first place.

Then why does he feel so fucking awful?

He looks back up at you, to see you sighing and looking up at the ceiling, as if trying to force your forming tears back into your eyes.

Yup, he feels horrible.

"Happy? Happy to know we were just trying to plan a surprise birthday party for you but you and your jealously just had to know huh, Jake?" You quickly state, voice cracking, as you tried not to choke up. You weren't sad that he found out about the surprise. You were sad that it felt like he didn't trust you. That he thought you were the type of person to do god knows what behind his back. You hated the feeling of not being trusted. Especially by Jake, of all people.

"Fuck."

Jake's face (and heart) falls with the most broken expression you've ever seen. But you're too sad, angry, tired (a mix of all?) to care. Your only goal right now is to not let him see you cry.

You hurry past him, across your apartment, and into your bedroom, slamming the door behind you, leaving behind a shocked, and regretful, Jake.

His heart shrinks when he hears the door slam shut and a little more when he looks down at the still unlocked phone in front of him. He didn't have the heart in him to look at it anymore. Of course he trusted you, he knew what you said was the truth.

He mentally screams at himself for assuming the worst––for thinking that you, a literal angel, would betray him.  First, he thought he was losing you to someone else. Now, he was afraid he just lost you through his own actions. 

He hesitantly sulks over to your door, softly knocking when he reaches it.

"Y/N?"

No response.

"Y/N, I'm so sorry. I didn't know, I let my—”

"Jake just please leave me alone for now," he hears you painfully say from a distance, meaning you're on your bed. He knows the door's unlocked—the lock on your door hasn't been working for a long time now, despite the many times he tells you to talk to your landlord about it. But he doesn't find it in him to open it. He knows he messed up. If he saw you in there right now, crying, he wouldn't know what to do. He wouldn't know what he would to do himself, knowing he was the reason behind your tears.

He nods in silence, knowing you can't see him, but does so anyways and returns to his spot on the couch. He could leave right now, go back to the dorm with the rest of the guys, let you have your space like you wanted. But his heart hurts at the idea of leaving you sad, angry, or a combination of both. He can't leave this unresolved. He fucked up, he has to fix it.

And so he sits on your couch for another hour. The clock on the wall behind him continues to tick as the silent tension in your apartment continues to grow. When it hits 11pm and he's sure you've slumbered off into sleep, he quietly enters your room.

He can see your figure in the dark, your back facing the door as you're curled up into yourself under the comforter. He feels his heart drop a little more when he imagines you crying in that position from earlier. He slowly peels the comforter open and gets into his side of the bed, careful not to bother your sleeping figure.

Laying there, staring up at the ceiling, he's never felt more like a stranger in your bed. It's not that he hasn't slept over before, god knows he's probably slept over at your place more than he has in his own bed. But right now, in this moment, he just felt awful. Like he didn't deserve to be in such close proximity to you. How could he be deserving? He violated your privacy, made you feel like you weren't trusted, doubted your relationship.

These thoughts run through Jake's head as he stares up at your ceiling fan, wishing he could turn back time to a few hours ago, before he checked your phone, before he let his insecurities get to the best of him.

You can feel the dip he makes in the bed behind you when he gets in. Of course you're not asleep. There's no way sleep could reach you when you had the recent events constantly replaying in your head like a broken record.

You knew Jake with all your heart. You didn't have to look at him to know he was probably laying there, hurt, staring up at the ceiling, drafting what to say once you wake up—or once he knows you're actually still awake.

You decide to break the tension by turning to lay on your other side, facing him.

You were wrong. Thanks to the little sliver of moonlight shining through your sheer curtains, you can see him, now laying on his side, already looking at you with so much regret in his eyes. You can almost hear the cracks in your heart physically forming.

His eyes widen when he realizes you're still awake. He opens his mouth to say something, but not before you quickly shift over to his side of the bed and embrace him in a tight hold, burying your face into his chest. Without any hesitation, he returns the gesture, arms holding your body as close to him as possible. As if once he let go, he'd lose you forever.

He lets out a sigh of relief as he breathes you in. He didn't even know he was holding his breath all this time.

"I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry Y/N," he mutters into your hair. He feels his hoodie getting wet from where you buried your face. He pulls you closer, if that's even possible, feeling his own eyes heating up with sadness. He would never forgive himself for making you feel this way.

"You know I trust you right? Please know that. I shouldn't have assumed the worst when I saw your phone. I...I let my insecurities get to the best of me."

You move your head from its home on his chest to look up at him, as if asking him to elaborate. This was new to you, you didn't know he held insecurities in your relationship. But it wasn't because of you, no, you were his entire world. Losing you meant losing everything.

Jake's never been the best at saying his feelings. That's why it took him so long (with the help of his six best friends) to finally confess how he felt about you. He was afraid of letting people in if they could easily walk out. Maybe that's why he never let anyone into his life before you. But oh, were you an exception. The second he met you, he knew he was fucked. But thank god he did, because thanks to you, he's been able to be more open, more vulnerable. He's able to talk to you about anything and everything. He doesn't have that same fear of losing people anymore, not when he has you in his life to reassure him every step of the way. But right now, in this moment, he doesn't know how to tell you that his new fear was, in fact, just losing you.

The sheer idea of you not being a part of his life anymore terrified him. 

"I hope you know you're never going to lose me Jake, if that's what you're insecure about," you softly mutter as you wrap your free arm that's not stuck in between both your bodies around him to gently play with the ends of his hair. It's as if you could read his mind, he loves that you know him so well.

"It just sucks that you could even think I would ever do something as awful as what you were assuming...with one of your closest friends nonetheless," you continue.

"I know. I know, and I feel terrible. I'm so sorry. I know you would never do anything remotely close to that, and I know you would never intentionally try to keep anything from me," he sighs. He shifts so he can lie down on his back, bringing you with him to lie on his chest, never letting you go once. "It's just...I just don't know what I'd do if I ever lost you Y/N. Everyday, I ask myself what heroic thing I must've done in my past life to deserve this life with you and I can't help but think you could just as easily be stripped away from me."

As much as your heart breaks listening to him rant, you feel your love for him grow even more. You knew how hard it was for him to put his true emotions into words, and him telling you this reminded you how much trust he had in you.

After some moments of silence, moments of him drawing random shapes onto your back, moments of you two just holding each other like it was the end of the world, you speak up.

"I love you. I'm sorry for making you doubt yourself��"

"No, it's not your fault, I can't help but think things like that. I just don't know what I did to deserve you, and I know that I need to be mo–"

"Babe let me finish," you say with a little giggle in your tone. He immediately stops and mutters a little "sorry". How cute, you tell yourself.

"I was gonna say," you look back up at him so you're making direct eye contact now. "You're the only one that's ever on my mind, Jake. I can't help the way you think, but I can assure you that there is no one else I would rather be with. And I mean that for the rest of life."

You snuggle back into the comfortable hoodie he's currently wearing (you make a mental note to yourself to steal it from him later) and decide to ease the tension,

"So you're stuck with me for life, sorry to inform you Mr. Sim."

Jake lets out a laugh, looking down at you to see you returning his smile with a cheeky one.

"I love you. So much," he says so sincerely, so genuinely, that you almost tear up again from how content you were. Now you were asking yourself, what did you do to deserve him?

Jake Sim is not a jealous person.

No, he just loves you.

A lot.

[msookyspooky]

billy loomis # 7 bc i wanna see mr smooth drinking a monster. also kinda off topic but when me and my fam were on a road trip my dad droke about 1000 gallons of caffeine and was literally physically shaking he wasnt allowed to drive and was shaky for about 2 days.😭

Omg how's ur Dad alive??? 😦 My Mom and her friend made shots with the old Mountain Dew Voltage. You know, the blue with the lightning bolt and they mixed Vodka with it. The caffeine + alcohol felt like my heart was ready to pop out of my chest and run away from like two drinks! I'm way too sensitive with caffeine, no way bro! I don't even like drinking coffee sometimes bc it gives me the shakes.😭

I've actually never drank Monster but I remember all my friends describing it and everyone said the original tasted like something different than what the other person said.

Pre Scream:

Billy Loomis Trying Monster

"How the FUCK are you still wired??" Billy grumbled. Both of you staying up late to cram studying for finals at the table. Meanwhile, Stu was wide awake and goofing off.

"Just am. I'm like the energizer bunny, man. I just keep going...And going and going and going." He clicked his tongue and winked at you.

Billy narrowed his eyes. "No. You're more annoying than usual...What's in your cup?"

Stu's smirk dropped as he scooted it closer to himself. "Nothing. Just juice."

You leaned over and could smell the fizzy medicinal scent as you scoffed. "Hey, are you drinking energy drinks? Is that what's in that giant ass cup?!"

"No-"

Billy tried to jerk it out of Stu's hand as Stu held it close. "Bro, that's my last Monster! You know how my Mom is, she thinks my hearts gonna combust or something so I gotta sneak it."

Billy glared at him, looking exhausted and annoyed. "It's 2 in the morning, we're only halfway through this textbook and we have a test in a few days. If I fail, my old man will have my ass...Give me the drink!"

Stu whined. "No! Get your own!"

"STU. HAND IT OVER."

You groaned to yourself. "Stu, let him take a sip. He'll hate it anyways."

Billy looked at you with a huff and narrowed eyes. "How do you know what I like and don't like? It's just an energy drink."

"Ookaay. If you say so."

Stu rolled his eyes and shoved his cup over to Billy. "Here."

Billy took it and took a sip without even smelling it. You watched him take one sip and think for a moment with a mixed expression before taking another.

"So?"

Billy shrugged. "It's not bad. Sweet, a little salty...Kind of reminds me of tart apple juice if it was carbonated... It's just a drink, I don't know."

He took another long sip and Stu made a grabbing motion with his hand. "Okay, you had enough."

Ypu and Billy chuckled to each other before Billy muttured. "What are you, addicted? Need us to call an intervention in for you?"

"Ha ha. Stop being a dick and return my cup."

Billy smirked a little and downed the entire thing.

You opened your mouth. "Uuhh...Slow down there, I don't think that's a good idea. We haven't ate since like 5 and-"

It fell on deaf ears as you put up a finger to hush you as he chugged before smacking his lips and handing it back to Stu. Empty.

"There's your cup." He jeered.

Stu glared at him. "Come on, man. That's fucked!"

Billy picked his pen back up near his notes. "Too bad. Should have been freaking exhausted like the rest of us."

"Well what about me?!" You exclaimed.

They both shrugged. You groaned with an eyeroll. "Whatever. I want to get back to studying. We can at least get a few more notes done for one more hour...Should have studied with Sidney a few days ago when she offered but nooooo me and Tatum had to go shopping."

Stu pointed at you. "Hey, hey, hey. None of that...Where were we anyways?"

"Chapter 54."

You all studied for at least a half an hour and suddenly your table was shaking. You raised your eyes slowly, brows raised as you looked up to see Billy clenching a pencil and shaking his leg.

"....Billy." He didn't hear you. "BILLY."

He looked up, momentarily stopping.

"You're shaking the table."

"Oh...Sorry." He mumbled, rolling his lips

You watched him a moment, fidgeting in his seat before he stood up to walk around.

Stu leaned back with a smug smirk. "Ooohhhh, can't handle all the Monster you chugged can you light weight?"

"Fuck off." He grumbled, pacing near the counter. "Jesus Christ...Do you drink this daily? Is that why you are the way you are? I feel like my hearts hammering."

Stu shrugged as you just sighed and closed the textbook. No studying was happening.

"It probably is! That's what you get for chugging that entire drink and hardly no food in your system."

"No one likes a know it all, YN." He snapped while running a hand through his hair. Going to the fridge to get some water and snack.

He chugged some water and leaned his head back. You cringed. "You good?"

"Yeah just feels like I ran a marathon or like I need to. I can tell which."

"No more Monster for anyone." You gave.

Stu scoffed. "I don't have anymore."

"Oh really? Then what's that in your bag on the ground?"

Stu kicked his bag under the table. "It's empty."

"Yeah well no more regardless. I say we make pizza rolls and call it a night."

Billy nodded as blew air past his lips. "Fucking deal."