#no cast announcement with 3 days to go?

[marleneoftheopera]

Performances begin in Riyadh on the 14th (and I still have yet to see an official casting announcement?)

[pomefioredove]

Okay but imagine one of the guys actually win the prefect, and they just go rubbing it on the others face by making them wear their respective form uniform.

Except Kalim, he would probably just make them have a sleepover every night and paint each other nails.

ohhh see now I'm imagining all the alternate routes this could take... okay okay I'm so here for this. like half of the cast would totally make them wear the uniform just to rub it in, the other half would just be crazy about seeing them in the dorm uniform at all. I DO have some thoughts on this concept alone... and I'll make another part later yk yk

parts 1 | 2 | 3 | kalim | bad ending

summary: joining their dorms + wearing the uniforms. a proper ending to this type of post: short fics characters: ace, deuce, jack, epel, riddle, ruggie, azul, jamil, kalim, vil additional info: yuu is gender neutral, ruggie is cute, azul is the cutest, vil enjoyers come get your food, maybe a little ooc for some parts

If you thought it was bad before, the news that Malleus intended to marry you made everything about twenty times more chaotic. Bids were upped to insurmountable sums, rumors were spread like the plague, fights were raging through campus as the deadline to donate approached. Even Crowley was starting to feel a little antsy, despite all of the brand new amenities he had already ordered for his office.

Finally, the day came. The announcement was held in the courtyard, where just about any student who had stakes in the matter had shirked whatever after-school responsibilities they had to gather. The prefect themselves was nowhere to be found, though only few noticed their absence.

"Maybe it'll be nice," you say to your direbeast companion, the both of you tucked away in a dark corner at Ramshackle.

"It'll definitely beat living in this dump. You think they got good food in Diasomnia?" Grim murmurs.

You grimace. "Uh... sure. I can't imagine they wouldn't, right?"

Crowley clears his throat, pulling a thin, delicate envelope out of his coat pocket while the crowd eagerly watches on. He takes his sweet time opening it, much to everyone's utter dismay, and when he finally withdraws the contents the entire courtyard falls quiet enough to hear a pin drop.

"And our winner is..."

First Year's Ending

"Ace Trappola, Deuce Spade, Jack Howl, and Epel Felmier. Congratulations! The prefect will be ready at Ramshackle for your collection this evening. I trust you'll sort out the details..."

The four freshman look between each other, a mix of awe and shock on each of their faces.

Everyone else is staring daggers at them.

Vil is the first to speak. "How?"

"We may or may not have sweetened the deal with a few exclusive bonuses," Ace snickers, crossing his arms. Vil rolls his eyes. Deuce sighs.

"We'll be Crowley's new slaves for months after this..."

Jack grumbles from the back of the four. "Well, it was worth it. Imagine if someone underhanded and dishonest had won, and-"

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever,"

The four pause, looking between each other in silence. Then, finally:

"So who will they be staying with?" Epel asks, catching Vil's attention again.

"Excellent question, Epel," the housewarden smiles, stepping back into the conversation. "We would be more than willing to accommodate the prefect at Pomefiore. Our dorm far outshines the others."

Leona growls. "I heard that. Besides, why should you be first in line? We've already housed them before, they were plenty comfortable then,"

"As I recall, you forced them into servitude as penance for staying," Riddle snaps. "Not exactly the friendliest host. I think they would be much more comfortable at Heartslabyul."

The four freshman can only watch in silence as the housewardens break out into bickering with one another about who's dorm is best.

"Soooo..." Ace starts. "Maybe we should rotate?"

Deuce sighs. "For once, you actually have a good idea,"

Riddle's Ending

"Riddle Rosehearts, congratulations! I'll alert the prefect at once," Crowley says, immediately turning and disappearing into the crowd before anything can get ugly.

It doesn't exactly come across as a surprise to anyone- Riddle closely calculated his spendings, taking into consideration Leona's overconfidence, Malleus' stranger proposal, and Kalim's over-enthusiasm.

Of course, with some additional prodding about how no other dorm is responsible enough to handle another person like Heartslabyul, Crowley finally gave in.

And now, you're sat in front of the dorm's rose gardens, suitcase in tow as you make no apparent effort to walk in.

"Thought I'd find you out here," Trey says, taking a seat in the grass next to you. "Feeling okay?"

"Nervous," you admit.

Trey chuckles, much to your annoyance. "I promise there's really nothing to be nervous about. Riddle is really quite happy you're here,"

You find that a bit surprising, though you suppose it's hard to tell when he's excited. He always has this impression of deep psychological stress on him that makes him difficult to read.

"Is he?"

"Oh, yeah. He's been running Ace and Deuce ragged getting ready. He really wants to impress you," Trey pauses with a small smile. "You'll get used to the order of things here in no time. And if you ever need any help, you've got me, Cater, Ace, Deuce... I'm sure even Riddle will take it easy on you."

You smile in return. "Thanks, I-"

"Prefect!" Riddle storms out of the front doors, looking rather well-dressed for a simple Tuesday afternoon. "You were expected four minutes ago! I've taken the liberty of finding your measurements, so your dorm uniform is already ready and inside!"

Yeah. Excited, right. You give Trey a little look (to which he only waves merrily) and start off behind the housewarden.

For a moment, as you follow him, you could swear you catch him humming and smiling. But before you can say anything about it he catches Ace messing with your dorm uniform and starts shouting.

Ruggie's Ending

"And the winner is... no... this can't be right..."

Crowley clutches the paper, bringing it close to his face. He clicks his tongue, murmuring to himself.

"Um... Ruggie Bucchi, everyone!"

The news sends a shockwave through the audience, and everyone turns to the sophomore at the back of the courtyard. The sudden shift in energy is enough to make him drop his sandwich.

"Damn it..." he grumbles, picking it off the ground and swiping the dirt off of it with his sleeve. "Still good, eh?"

"Are you deaf?" Leona glares. "You're just embarrassing yourself now, and me by association."

Ruggie raises an eyebrow. "What? Oh, the lottery-thingy? I'm pretty sure Crowley misread that. He's going senile, y'know,"

Crowley crosses his arms, begrudginly handing off the paper to Azul in the front. He adjusts his glasses.

"It says Ruggie Bucchi,"

"Then someone mistyped it! I'm telling 'ya, there's no way I managed to scrounge up enough before the deadline. I was digging between couch cushions by the end of it,"

Leona looks as if he's about to smack him upside the head. "Would you just get up there?"

"Geez, alright. But don't blame me when someone comes around with the right winner later," he says, trudging to the front of the crowd. "So what do I gotta do?"

"Erm... the prefect is waiting at Ramshackle. You'll collect them and return to Savanaclaw, where you'll be responsible for handling the details."

"Sure, whatever. Let's get to it, then,"

---

Even your surprise is palpable, though you suppose it could be a lot worse. Ruggie has been a pal before, helping you out at Sam's and convincing Leona to let you off the hook when you accidentally annoy him.

Though, he himself seems less than pleased as you step out of your new room in Savanaclaw, dressed in a slightly too-big uniform.

Leona smirks as if watching something amusing and claps, slowly. "Looking good. See, none of those other pompous outfits woulda looked half as nice on you. Nice work, Ruggie,"

Ruggie rolls his eyes and leans back against the wall. Leona excuses himself to find somewhere warm to nap, leaving you two to stare at each other.

"So... what's wrong?"

"Hm?"

"I mean," you say carefully. "You don't exactly seem excited about winning."

"Oh," Ruggie shrugs. "That's cause I didn't. Guys like me don't win anything. I'm sure someone will come to give you away to the right winner tomorrow."

The thought doesn't sit well with you- you're already here, after all, and Grim is gorging himself in the lounge, and you really-kinda-don't-mind Ruggie winning.

"Well, I hope not,"

He raises an eyebrow. "You know I can hardly afford to take care of myself, right?"

"So then we're even. Just don't make me go through all that bidding stuff again," you sigh. "Let's leave it at that."

A brief, though comfortable silence falls over the two of you, and then he grins. "Alright, then. I can live with that,"

Octotrio's Ending

"Azul Ashengrotto!"

Azul's immediate reaction is to collapse. he hadn't really realized how much stress the anticipation was causing him until suddenly his knees were buckling like he was learning to walk on land all over again.

Floyd grabs his shoulder to keep him upright and Jade joins the scattered applause.

"Don't look so pale, Azul. I'm sure this will prove to be a worthwhile investment," he says, folding his hands neatly in front of him.

A part of Azul knows that Jade isn't referring to anything financial, but he doesn't say a word about it.

"Besides," Jade goes on. "It'll be nice having another member of my club."

Both Azul and Floyd groan in unison.

---

Floyd gives you a standing ovation when you walk into the Mostro Lounge, fully dressed in the provided dorm uniform.

Azul, on the other hand, looks away entirely.

"It feels too long," you say, staring at the bottoms of your pants. You're not exactly in a place to complain, so you keep your voice meek.

"We can make the necessary adjustments," Jade says, walking into the room with a tray of tea, his all-too-knowing smile as unnerving as ever. "You look very nice, though. Wouldn't you say, Azul?"

The merman's eyes immediately turn away from Jade. "Hm?"

"Tell the prefect they look nice, Azul,"

Floyd laughs from across the room, clearly enjoying the spectacle. You tilt your head to the side like a curious puppy, not exactly sure what this banter is about. But it's not your place to pry, either.

Azul's face is beet-red. "You... look nice,"

"Thank you,"

"So are they gonna work or what? I'm tired," Floyd whines, lying on one of the couches and kicking off his shoes.

Azul grimaces. "Don't do that, that's disgusting. And I thought we should let them adjust a few days before giving them the option of working,"

"Option?" Jade's grin widens. "My, aren't you feeling generous?"

"I... assume this process has been rather jarring. I don't want any of my employees distracted or mopey. Is that right?"

You blink. "Uh... yes. This whole thing has been pretty terrible,"

Azul nods in acknowledgement as Grim tumbles in the room, wearing a brand new purple and silver-streaked bow. "Can't believe you guys had one of these 'jus lying around! I feel like a million thaumarks!"

You chuckle and scoop him into your arms. "You look very handsome. Just like Azul,"

Azul can feel his soul leaving his body and has to swiftly turn around to face the wall so you can't see him blushing. Floyd laughs.

"Oh- oh I meant the bow looks just like Azul's outfit!" you correct yourself. He pretends he didn't hear anything at all.

Jade breaks the awkward silence with a chuckle. "Ah, what fun this will be. Now, I think it's only appropriate that we give these two a proper welcome dinner. Prefect, do you care for mushrooms?"

Floyd and Azul groan in unison.

Jamil's Kalim's Ending

"Kalim al-Asim!"

Everyone could see that coming from a mile away. The disgruntled mumbles and groans of the crowd are drowned out by the cheers and claps of one sophomore, practically jumping up and down in the middle of the crowd.

"Yes! Yessss! This is going to be so much fun!"

Jamil suddenly looks exhausted.

Kalim runs to the front of the crowd, shakes Crowley's hand, steals the envelope from him, and sprints the rest of the way to Ramshackle.

Your moping is quite abruptly interrupted by a procession of loud knocks at the door, and after managing to summon your courage, you answer them.

"Wh-"

The very second the door is open, a familiar ball of energy is in your arms, squeezing you tightly.

"I wonnnn, prefect! I won!"

Your eyes widen. "You- you-"

You breathe a sigh of relief.

Out of everyone who threw their name in the hat, you couldn't get much luckier than Kalim. Financial problems? Gone. Loneliness? Blown away in the wind. Your chances of getting assassinated...? Well, let's hope Jamil is in a good mood.

Your uniforms are ready, measured to the exact inch, sitting on a set of mannequins that greet you as soon as you're inside.

Jamil is hovering behind one of them, picking at the sleeve of your school uniform for stray threads. He gives you a sideways glance, not exactly looking happy.

"My two best friends in the whole world in the same dorm!" Kalim claps. "You have to try on your dorm uniform, you'll love it! Oh, let me get you some new sheets- we have silk!"

He bounds off down the hall, leaving you alone in the lounge. The silence is thick and uncomfortable.

"Yeah, I'm outta here," Grim says, walking off in the opposite direction.

"Grim!" You whisper-shout.

"It's a preventative measure! No cracker-dry mouth for me!" and with that, he's gone.

Jamil smirks slightly, turning his attention back to sorting the uniforms. "You should get changed while you still can. I have a feeling Kalim will be attached to your side for the rest of the evening,"

You're pleasantly surprised to see how well the dorm uniform fits you, and your return to the lounge is accompanied with a little smile. The fabric is light and breezy, perfect for the dorm's usual weather- you could certainly get used to the perpetual summer.

"Fits well, I presume?" Jamil asks. "You certainly seem to be in high spirits."

"It could be worse,"

"Much worse," he agrees.

A silence falls over the two of you. Eventually, he sighs to himself, watching you out of the corner of his eyes.

"If you ever need a break from Kalim," Jamil says tentatively. "I could certainly find a way to distract him. Just so you know."

You understand the nature of his offer immediately, and though you know it's wrong, you don't exactly say no.

"...Thank you, Jamil,"

Vil's Ending

"Vil Schoenheit! Thank the sevens..."

Though he walks to Ramshackle to collect his prize with a sense of ease, Vil admits that there was a brief moment where he felt anxious about not winning.

Standing in that crowd, surrounded by royalty and nobles, his chances were higher than most but certainly not assured. The very thought of you being stuck with someone other than him was enough to send a shiver up his spine.

After all, how many people on this campus would you feel comfortable with taking your measurements? None, none but him.

"Hold still," he says for the millionth time. "I'm almost done."

Vil insisted on taking your measurements himself, and you had no qualms about that. After all, things could be worse.

"There. I'll have these sent out right away. Pomefiore has many students of your size, so it's likely we'll have a spare uniform for you. That is, until I can have one custom-made,"

"You really don't have to..."

He raises an eyebrow. "Of course I do. You're a Pomefiore student now, I expect you to present yourself like one,"

A knock at the door pulls your attention away from him, though it's Vil who answers it.

He returns to you, dorm uniform in arm.

"That was fast," you say, accepting the bundle of clothes.

"Punctuality is important. Now, get changed, I want to see what I'll have to adjust for you,"

Waiting for your return is almost as nerve-wrecking as it was waiting for Crowley to call out his name. Vil can't be sure why exactly you're making him so nervous now, but it's all he can do to keep from showing it.

The dorm uniform- which you've dawned before- is just as comfortable as you remember. Warm, but not suffocating, soft but durable.

Vil stares at you for a short while before saying anything, simply drinking in your presence.

"Come here. I need to have a look,"

You inch forward, standing in front of him as he turns around you in circle, inspecting every inch. "Well, it fits much better than your last,"

He pauses, stopping in front of you. You look down at your feet, feeling as nervous under his analytical gaze as ever.

Vil chuckles, cupping your chin and tilting your head up to meet his eyes. "You look wonderful. I'll have to help with your confidence, though,"

Good Ending

"And our winner is... M-"

"Crowley!" a loud voice resonates from the very back of the crowd. The sound of hurried footsteps follow it as Trein and Crewel show up on scene.

"We're... we're kind of in the middle of something-"

"You are absolutely not. I cannot believe I had to find out about your little scheme from Trappola and Spade, of all pups," Crewel grimaces. "Are you well?"

"Well I- I-"

"Called it," Ruggie grins. "Totally senile."

Leona rolls his eyes. "Oi! Just read the damn paper!"

"Absolutely not. This is a highly immoral and borderline illegal offense," Trein crosses his arms. "You will all be refunded promptly. Now return to your studies!"

The crowd slowly dissipates, murmuring amongst themselves. Crowley remains in front of the well at the front of the courtyard, kicking the ground with his hands behind his back, like a child being scolded.

Both Trein and Crewel glare. "If you were having such issues with the prefect's expenses, you could have asked,"

"In what universe is giving them away to teenage boys a sound idea?" Trein grimaces. "I can overlook many of the things you do, but this is far too much."

"But-"

"That's enough," Crewel snaps his pointer against his palm. "If the prefect is causing you such troubles, we'll be glad to take them off your hands. In fact, I've already had the necessary legal papers drawn. I've always wanted a pup of my own, you know."

---

A gentle knock at the door rouses you from your melancholy and after some lengthy pestering from Grim, you finally go to answer it.

Outside is none other than Ace and Deuce, looking rather somber.

"No- don't tell me," you say. "I don't even want to hear it."

Deuce sighs. "It's not that. The whole thing got canceled,"

"No- wait, canceled?"

"Someone got caught with their hand in the cookie jar," Ace snickers, but quickly clears his throat after Deuce gives him a sharp glare. "Crowley's negotiated a different solution to the problem."

Deuce nods. "Hypothetically... how do you feel about being adopted?"

[wosofutbolfan]

I Would Climb Every Mountain With You

Alexia Putellas x Explorer!R

14K of fluff and fun

For those interested this is the song that played in my head throughout the inception of this one;

You shoved the last of your gear into your duffel, relishing in the zipping sound that pierced the silence of your sparsely occupied apartment.

This was a quick turn around, even for you.

You were back for your nans 82nd birthday which was in a few days and to catch up with your friends and family.

You’d barely been back on UK soil for 18 hours, in your Cumbria flat for only 15, when you got a call offering you a trip as a tour guide in the Pirineus Aragonese, otherwise known as the Spanish Pyrenees, for 3 nights.

Usually you’d ignore such a request at this point in your career but for a 3 day trip there were more 0’s than you would expect on the pay packet. Too many to refuse.

You were one of the best in the business, so trampling around the low level bases of a fairley commercial mountain range was a bit novice for you.

These days you find yourself in the thin air over 6000 meters, or in a remote rainforest, or trekking through the Sahara, guiding millionaire white men who made the move from being armchair adventurers to have-a-go adventurers in the very safe manner which your expertise offered.

You did it because those IT consultants, those bankers, those surgeons, paid well.

Very well. 

Well enough to fund your explorations.

To go to those heights that really drove you. 8000 metres. The death zone. Where the air was so thin you couldn't stay long or your brain would lose oxygen.

Or the amazon, making contact with a tribe to warn them of encroaching foresters.

Or to the arctic. To witness the last of the planet untouched by man.

As you shut the door behind yourself, barely even checking it locked. Fuck. You thought, as you downloaded the boarding pass sent to you. 

Your mum was going to kill you. 

But god. You loved the outdoors. 

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“I hate the outdoors!”

Alexia growled smacking a hand against her forearm, trying in vain to swat the midgie which was trying to make her blood its next meal. She hated the high pitched zoom that travelled past her ear as it moved back through the mini bus to try and find a more peaceful meal out of one of her teammates.

“We know Ale…” a tired voice from next to her groaned “you’ve mentioned it once, twice. Maybe a thousand times.” Mapi rolled her head off of her girlfriend's shoulder where she had been in a light doze. Interrupted by her captain's loud complaints.

“I’m just saying.” Alexia continued to grumble “I don’t know why Jona is making us do this. Team Bonding? We are a very bonded team already! I make you all pancakes on sundays!”

Mapi rolled her eyes at the blondes protests. She’d heard all of this before since Jona had announced the 3 day team bonding trip at the start of pre season. She could recite Alexia's complaints by heart.

“I’m excited.” She shrugs, eyes cast over her girlfriend who had moved to nuzzle into her side.

“Traidora” The captain replies, eyes gazing out of the fast moving countryside out of the window. She felt worse and worse the more they moved away from the city into the endless empty space around her. She could feel civilization leaving her grasp as the bars of signal went down on her phone. “You’ve been brainwashed by your nordic girlfriend.” She lets out simply. Ignoring Mapis' offended scoff and dodging the light slap sent her way.

“Behave Maria.” A tired voice let out, without opening their eyes. Like a school child who had been told off, the tiny defender backs down and settles back into her girlfriend's shoulder. And if Alexia sticks her tongue out at her like a toddler then well. Who can provide it?

“God” she thought to herself as she settled her head back against the vibrating glass, starting a mental countdown of when she would return to her city center apartment  “I hate the outdoors.”

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“I probably should buy new walking boots.” You thought to yourself as you clambered out of the minibus which dropped you and your small team at the muster point. Your boots fit like a glove but they did look a little worse for wear. All scratched and battered. The green laces prominent against the dark brown leather.

Who are you kidding? You knew you would never buy new boots.

You could still make out the scratch deep in the leather where you hooked your foot behind a rock as you careered down a shale summit when you were still a novice. A mark against the toe protection where a dog in the Andes got a bit too friendly and attacked your foot. Nah. These boots were the closest friend you had.

A rumble of a car cut against the silence of the mountains around you and you could just make up another mini bus trudging up the mountain pass from the elevation you stood at. You had a few minutes before the clients arrived.

“Who ‘av we got then?” you asked and you turned to face Rio, your long-time guiding partner when you were in this part of the world.

Full name Mario he was a kind man in his 40’s who lived for bad 80s music and loved his kids more than you thought any human was capable of love.

“I am unsure, Mi Amiga. I just got the paperwork that told me it was a team of 23 ladies. They assured the operator we have no fitness issues. They have translators in the group, multiple languages so we're best sticking with English. I have all the health forms here, everything looks good. Some dietary requirements but nothing we can’t handle”

Huh. A weird group. 23 fit women with translators in the group? Weird.

“Women. Rio. We prefer the term women.” you gibe him, “Urght. 23 women is a lot. I hope it isn’t a hen party. Penis straws aren’t my thing, if you know what I mean.” you knock your elbow into his ribs and let out a cackle. 

You were very very gay. A fact that wasn’t lost on Mario as he had unfortunately been witness to more than a few hook ups after expeditions over the years. 

“Si, I know what you mean, that rock over there knows what you mean, tu idiota.” he replied, rolling his eyes and moving to help the team with the checklist of essentials.

Your knee deep in gas canisters and spare tent pegs by the time the mini bus holding the clients arrives.

You untangle yourself with a sheepish smile to Rio as you move to meet the van and he moves to tidy your mess. He’s the practical guy. You’re the nice guy. It's your job to go and meet the clients and explain the expedition and answer any questions.

“Hol… Holy shit.” you start. What you intended to be a lively welcome in your best spanish quickly got lost on your tongue with each woman who exited the van.

Fucking hell. These women were gorgeous.

Specifically the last women to emerge from the van. All blonde hair and hazel eyes.

And tattoos.

And fit.

And tall.

And. Not to be a dick about it. Very gay.

You shake yourself out of it. Come on. Be professional. Stop being a gross guy. You scold yourself.

You turn to Rio who’s finishing up with all the kit who laughs at your expression; “Not a hen party then?”

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“... so on day two we will reach the gorge, follow the treeline across the ridge, through the forest finding some good places to camp and then finally end in Arén. Where your bus will meet you and take you back to Barcelona. Is that good?”

The group lets out a murmur of agreement and an enthusiastic “Fantastic!” is heard above everyone else and Alexia rolls her eyes.

“Mapi, you really need to control your girlfriend. If you're not careful she's going to run away into the wilderness.” she mutters to her best friend.

“Shut up Ale.” Mapi hisses back, but it isn’t missed by Alexia how Mapi slowly inches herself closer to her girlfriend and hooks her fingers through the waist strap of her backpack, as though physically stopping her from leaving her, renaming herself Hedi and living the rest of her days in the mountains.

Alexia lets out a scoff of laughter, which was louder than she intended.

“There, at the back. A question?” 

Suddenly Alexia finds the eyes of the team watching her, most with a glint in their eyes as they were all victims to her complaining over the last few weeks.

Listen. She's not bothered she has 22 sets of eyes on her.

She's used to it. Especially these eyes. She's their captain.

That's not what causes her mouth to dry up and her pulse to race.

No. That's you.

For the first time since getting out of the van Alexia looks up and sees your gaze directed straight at her. Holy shit. You were the most beautiful woman she had ever seen.

And she had seen a lot of women.

But you, standing there in your khaki shorts, simple vest top, hair tied up and a bandana and dirty old boots took her breath away.

You gave off an aura of cool. Dark raybans perched on your face and muscles rippling against a backpack bigger than you.

You were the coolest woman she had ever seen.

“Sorry, the paperwork said everyone would understand English, or had access to a translator. That's my fault. Can someone translate? Or I can spe-” 

A ripple of laughter goes through the group but its Mapis cough and small kick that pulls Alexia out of her stupor.

“Vaya, I understand, lo siento, no. No questions here. Just. So excited to get going! Vamos Amigas!” Alexia cheerfully ended, ignoring her teammates' confused faces at her complete 180 as she hoisted her backpack on and threw you her most dashing smile.

Maybe she could make something out of this weekend after all.

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You threw a smile past 3 of your group on the trail as you made your way down the mountain.

“Hola chica’s” you let out cheekily, throwing a wink at the three, who had quickly become your favourites.

You loved love and you could see how much the small brunette you learned was Mapi hung onto every action of her girlfriend. Ingrid's enthusiasm was one you shared, born of a childhood spent outside and Alexia.

Well.

Alexia was a mystery. Quick to smile and eager to please but there was something there. So confident and yet you could make out the blush on her cheeks at your innocent wink.

And god. Was she gorgeous. Chiselled and…stay professional!

They made a very likable trio and you had been spending most of your hike with them so far but you had to share the love and you left them behind a few miles ago to go scout out the front of the pack.

This was how you and Mario worked. You would take it in turns to be at the front and the back of the group - keeping everyone together and pacing everyone so they remained in a close-enough group to manage safely whilst not hampering or rushing anyone.

You’ve got to admit.

These girls were fit.

Even you found it difficult to keep up.

Though, to be fair you had to hike double with the overlapping on the hillside and your pack that weighed about 6 extra stone.

Still, you wouldn’t swap this job for the world. You thought to yourself as you spied the last team member a few metres down the mountain you halted and waited for them to reach you. Feigning that you were just taking in the view so that they didn’t feel bad about being at the back.

Someone has to be.

“Don’t worry about it” you let out easily at Pina and Patris apologies, “You guys are doing it the right way. Take in the view! We’re hours ahead of schedule”.

And you were. These girls really were athletic. You really should find out what the hell they do for a living.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Capi, what are you doing now?” Mapi grumbled as Alexia came to a stop.

She tosses her bag down and rummages through it, picking out a small bottle and spraying herself quickly before hiding it away.

“Vamos Mapi, you go up. I’m just… taking  a moment.”

“No problem Alexia, we can wait with you. Is it your knee? Are you okay?” Ingrid's kind voice asked, her brows furrowed in concern for her captain.

“Si Si I am good it’s just…”

“Ah! I know!” Mapi exclaimed “the sudden buen humor. The changes in pace. I can’t believe it! Capi has a crush! With the mountain boss lady! Wait… is that perfu…”

Mapi is quickly silenced by Alexia's large hand covering her mouth as the captain looks down the mountainside in concern. You’ve passed them and are out of view and she hopes out of earshot.

“Callate idiota” she hisses “Ew!” She pulls her hand away and wipes it on her shorts whilst Mapi grins cheerfully, her tongue safely back in her mouth.

“I do not! It is good to feel nice, that's all. I am just taking a moment. Please. Ingrid. Take her away before I push her down the mountain.”

Alexia pleads to the Norwegian, who is more than happy to grab her girlfriend's hand and continue the best weekend of her life, explaining all about the different types of trees they would see as Mapi hangs on her every word.

Alexia isn’t alone for long until she hears your peel of laughter as you round the corner with the two meneces that were Patri and Pina.

You say something that makes Patri laugh and she shoves you playfully to one side which makes Alexia's heart jump into her throat.

“Ay! Idiota! Do not push her! She could slip!”

She takes your bark of a laugh and the soft look you give her happily, embracing the warm feeling that it makes in her chest.

“Sorry Capi.” Patri mocks, saluting with a shit-eating grin on her face.

“Alright. That's it. What the hell do you guys do? You’re all mega fit, speak about 15 different languages and now you’re introducing this insane leadership structure. Is this some sort of new-age google thing?” you ask, incredulously, hands on your hips and question in your eyes.

There's a moment of silence and then all three of them burst into laughter at the same time.

“What? What did I say?” you ask. “What do you think we do jefa de montana?” Pina asks, as you all continue your hike upwards.

“I don’t know… really rich estate agents?” you ask, prompting more laughter from the group. “Erm… oh! I know! You’re all personal trainers in old folks homes but you’re taking it really, really seriously? OH! I know” You’re all spies!” you exclaim, just to hear Alexias laugh again. Which you are rewarded with.

“No tonta. We are all footballers. We are the Barcelona Femini first team!” Alexia lets out, arms wide, all three of them pausing with expectant looks on their faces in your direction.

“Ah. Makes sense. Cool.” you let out, smile their way and continue leading them up the mountain.

You sense you’re walking alone all of a sudden and turn to see all three of them standing like fishes, mouths open staring incredulously at you.

“What? What's wrong?” you call down.

“Footballers, you strange mountain woman! It’s more than cool! We’re the best in the world!” Patri lets out, incredulously.

It’s your turn to bark out a laugh. “Ha! Sorry chicas, I promise I will be suitably impressed once we reach camp” you wink as you all continue upwards, a peaceful silence settling over the three of you. 

“I’m more of a rugby person anyway.” you break the silence.

A moment of pregnant pause.

“Push her off the mountain Patri.” Alexia orders, jovially. “On it Cap!”

You cackle as you run away from the three chasing footballers and the only thought that is running through your head is, ‘God, Alexia smells good.’

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Ella es tan bonita” Alexia mutters to herself, as she watches you from across the clearing, after helpfully dumping herself outside of Ingrid and Mapis tent as Ingrid sets the whole thing up as well as going behind Mapi and re-clipping all of the clips and double checking all the poles, whilst ensuring Mapi doesn't see her.

“Ay, Capi. Stop creeping and come help. Or set up your tent, you need somewhere to sleep.” “I will, I will” Mapi takes a seat next to her captain who doesn't look like she's moving from her perch anytime soon.

“So, you’re in love, si?”

“Si…” Alexia lets out dreamily, “Wait. No! Shut up, I didn't say that.”

Mapi opens her mouth, ready to tease the hell out of her captain before… “We heard nothing Ale, don’t worry” Ingrid lets out from inside the tent. Mapis' mouth closes with a small frown at the idea of her teasing ammo being taken away from her.

“She is so cool though.” Alexia continues, “You know, she’s been to the arctic three times? And climbed 4 of the worlds highest summits. 4 of them? One on her own!”

“We know Ale,” Ingird responded, kindly, appearing from the tent “You’ve told us a dozen times. Come on. Let’s see if she needs help with anything.”

Alexia moves as though she’s just intercepted a stray pass in front of goal.

Rapid.

You stand, ignoring the aching in your back as you put the finishing touches onto the makeshift fire pit.

You’d spent the last hour scouting and setting up camp for the group. Mario was off helping some of the girls set up their tents for the night.

You both preferred the ease of a hammock slung between two trees with a mosquito net being the only thing between you and the stars. That meant you were both able to carry more provisions for the group and set up your camps quickly before moving on to help the clients.

“Do you need any help at all?” you hear accented english, you turn and Ingrid offers you a kind smile. “No, no you’re good guys, make yourselves at home.” you gesture to the logs that had been moved into a semi circle around the firepit. Logs collected by Mario waiting for the night to arrive.

You're on your knees setting some water to boil as you hear an annoyed grumble and a slap of skin “mierda!”. You turn on your knees and find yourself faced with Alexia, sitting on a log near you losing a one woman battle against a thousand midges.

“You must taste nice.” It takes you a minute of the blonde blushing and red face to realise what you’ve said. You stand and move to sit next to her “No! No sorry I didn’t mean… I mean…” you take a deep breath and…. “You smell nice.”

Mapis' bark of laughter makes you roll your eyes good naturedly, the blonde next to you still looking at you somewhat star struck.

“No really Alexia…” you move closer and breathe the blonde in, she smells sweet, floral…. Stay professional! 

“That’s why they’re attracted to you. Your smell, and…” you move slowly, gently and take her arm in yours… “some people just react to the bites more, this looks like it could become sore.” you brush over a large, reddening bite on her inner arm.

Alexia, meanwhile, is acting as though your touch isn’t setting her blood on fire. She’s apparently chosen to hide this by just staring at you, wide eyed. Another midgey lands on her skin and you feel her arm tense in your grasp as she moves to swat it but you hold firm.

“Ey ey, there's more of them than you and we’re in their territory. Take only pictures, leave only footprints and kill…”

“Nothing but time!” Ingrid jumps in, excitedly, “Yes Ing, that's the one” you reply, as Ingrid sits proudly. “Mascota del maestro.” Mapi teases her.

You move your attention back to Alexia, “Ale, you should go and wash off, there will be a stream over there, looking at the treeline and the game track marks. It’ll take the sweetness from your skin. It will help, I have some antihistamine you should take when you get back and I'm sure I smelt some wild garlic growing just as we entered the clearing. It acts as a repellent, I will go forage some and add it to your meal tonight. It will help for the rest of the trip.”

“No, I’ll be fi….” you move to stand, gathering your wilderness knife and attaching it to your hip. “I wasn’t asking Alexia. I’m in charge here, Captain. I know what I’m doing, now go. Please”

Alexia isn’t told what to do often.

Yes she has a coach and she has trainers but she is the captain.

The expert.

But your kind and gentle nature just became firm in front of her eyes. This was your world and it was clear you knew what you were doing in it. She felt like a puppet as she stood obediently and made her way to the stream.

As she stood there, in only her underwear in the cold water, listening to the distant laughter of her teammates and overlooking the most beautiful blue-green water of the gorge beneath the mountain side. She kind of understood this whole outdoorsy thing. It was peaceful, she could hear her thoughts. Alexia was never alone. There was always someone fighting for her attention, needing something from her.

But here, she felt like her mind had gone quiet. And she could think. And breathe.

She was feeling somewhat light and philosophical by the time she made it back to the firepit.

You look up from your pan and see the silhouette of the tall Barcelona captain making their way over. She looks lighter somehow. Hair hanging limp softens her features and her face is bare, making her look somehow more beautiful. You shake yourself out of your thoughts and start to plate up the meal for everyone. 

You feel Mario next to you; “Ay, smells goods, some of your best work Mi Amiga.” He mutters to you, shoving your shoulder gently, “ooh we’ve got fancy with the spices, si? Someone to impress” he obnoxiously wiggles his eyebrows at you and you very maturely, in your opinion, ignore his teasing in order to stir some sauteed garlic through one of the bowls. “Go give that to your apalastar. I’ll hand out the rest” he orders.

“I don’t have a crush” you hiss, even as you gather two bowls and make your way over to the blonde. Alexai looks up as you stand above her, seemingly having interrupted her thoughts. You offer a smile as you pass her a steaming metal bowl.

“Chicken and rice” you state, as you take a seat next to her, “with extra garlic, as promised” you smile as you start to shovel food into your mouth.

You take a moment with your eyes closed like you do before every meal before tucking in. Mario tells you that you eat like a wild dog who’s just found an open trash can, you don’t care, you love your food, especially after a long hike day cooked over an open fire. 

“How do you know these things?” Alexia asks. You make the universal noise of; ‘huh’? And eye her curiously. “The garlic. The stream. How do you know?”

“Ah, it’s my life.” you reply, “I grew up in rural England. Me and my brother would go for hikes for days at a time. Not much else to do. I learnt how to read the land. You get used to it…” a beat of silence, “the solution is always around.”

Now it's Alexia's turn to let out a confused grunt, around a mouthful of chicken.

“In nature. Nature always provides what you need. If it creates a problem, it will create a solution. That's why I love it so much. Sunburn? Mud is the best sunscreen money can’t buy. Stuck in a monsoon? You’ll be saved by a cave to shelter in that's carved by the same weather that's trying to kill you. Mosquitos making you their next meal? Garlic will grow and act as a repellent. You just need to learn to read the signs. That's why I love it so much.”

Alexia grows quiet, and you can’t quite place the look she's giving you. 

It’s open, and you feel maybe you shared too much so revert back to what you know. As you scrape the metal bowl clean you pull out a blister pack and present them to the footballer. “Sometimes, though, the answer is in a pharmacy in Perpignan” you grin cheekily and enjoy the blondes blush and laugh as she pops an antihistamine and swallows it. 

You root into your pocket and pull out some bite cream.

“May I?” you gesture towards her arm as you see she has finished her meal. She nods and presents you with her arm where an angry looking lump had formed. You grunt in sympathy as you carefully apply the cream. Making soothing motions with your thumb making sure the cream is absorbed fully.

You struggle to remain professional with the blondes soft skin under your hands. And you struggle to pull them away. You don’t know what comes over you as you gently blow on the bite to sooth it. You don’t think you’re alone in  your feelings as you hear a sharp intake of breath from the blonde, and feel goosebumps rise under your fingertips.

“I’m sorry, It helps to cool the area, it’s feeling a little hot” as you pull your hands away.

Alexia seems to be in a daze but you catch her eye as she lets out “eres tan caliente”. It’s quiet, under her breath and you see her eyes widen as she realises she's spoken aloud. “Pardon?” you ask, just to make sure you heard her.

“Oh sorry, nada, nothing. Thank you for your help. It feels better already. You’re really good at this.”

You smile at her happily, a proud buzz in your stomach at making her feel better, you're interrupted from any reply by Mario shouting your name across the fire pit. And that's when you realise you have 22 other clients all around, and you had kind of left your colleague to deal with them all.

Which makes it easier for him to convince you to fulfil his request. He always does this. And he knows you hate it. As he shakes the ukulele he’s carried up a frigging mountain at you. You can’t really deny him.

“Come on chica! Show the girls what you can do!”, you take it from him as you roll your eyes good naturedly as you settle back down, closer, somehow to Alexia, you can feel your thigh touch hers as you try to pretend that is isn't setting your world on fire. 

Alexia pretends that she can’t see Mapis' eyes light up and eyebrows wiggle at her from across the campfire.

As the stars start to make an appearance you serenade the group with campfire songs you grew up on, some songs that Mario sings along with you, you strum as Mapi excitingly dances around the campfire and you continue into the night as your fingers start to ache. Lucy even teaches you the Barcelona anthem, which you murder, but it's worth it to see the laugh in Alexia's eyes.

You don’t mind making a fool of yourself if that's your result.

You feel the blonde slump more into you as the night goes on, and you feel the tension between you both increase. However, when you look across to catch her eyes you see that she's practically asleep as she sits.

“Hey, Ale” you mutter as Pina takes a turn on your ukulele, rousing her from her light sleep, “come on, the tablets can make you drowsy. You need to get to sleep.”

“Oh, no. But I don’t want to miss anything.” she mutters, cutely, you don’t think she’d be so open unless she was completely exhausted. “And I need to set my tent up.”

“Don’t worry, I set it up for you when you were in the stream.” you respond, easily, and there's that look again, the one that puts your stomach into knots and makes you unsure of what you’ve said, so you continue, “It’s next to Mapi and Ingrids. I thought you’d want their protection from the bears.”

“Bears?!” she exclaims, which brings everyone's attention to the both of you, 23 worried looking footballers now looking in your direction as you bark out a laugh.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding!” you respond, to all of them, hands raised as a sign of peace. They settle down… “well actually I’m not, but what did you think the singing was for!”

Mario is the only one that snorts out a laugh.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Alexia wakes up hot.

And thirsty.

She opens her eyes and takes a moment to remember herself and where she is. But as she hears the light chatter and banging of pans outside it comes back to her.

Last night, sitting around the firepit by your side, one she had gotten over how hot the vision of you playing the instrument was, she was being lulled into a drowsy state by your gentle singing, the stars shining above and the warmth of your body by her side.

She remembers your hands on her skin, causing goosebumps and her stomach to flutter, somehow those hands in the middle of a literal mountain range made her feel more safe than the most experienced medical professional in the most high-tech sports facilities ever could.

She remembers finding her tent from where you had set it up. Citronella candle burning outside keeping the bugs away, everything zipped up safely, and then seeing how you had set the inside up.

Sleeping bag open and inviting, all her bags set neatly, essentials on top of her bag, hiking boots sitting on pegs she definitely did not bring to air them and stop any creepies crawling into them. Water next to her cot.

God. She was in trouble.

As she crawled into the porch area she found a small metal bowl with what looked like a cut up cactus in it, goop oozing from it. She picked the bowl up and made her way over to her best friends, who were tucking into a breakfast of granola and fruits out of similar bowls to that in her hand.

“Hey, Ingrid. Nature lover. What's this?” She holds the bowl up with a curious eyebrow.

“I think you mean Hola Ingrid, How are you this morning?” Mapi grumbles, whilst her girlfriend rubs her knee and shushes her kindly, Alexia looks at her expectantly.

She takes the bowl and a smile overtakes her face, “This is Aloe, Ale.” “Aloe Ale? Are you making fun of me?” Ingrid smiles again, “No, Ale, it's Aloe Vera, it's the gel from the Aloe Vera plant. It's got healing properties and… good for sunburn, reducing irritation and swelling, some may say good for insect bites?”

“Oh, well thank you then Ingrid, that's really kind.” Alexia hums, happily.

“Ale. I love you, but I didn’t collect this.” Ingrid smiles, Mapi looks on in glee and not-at-all subtly points in your direction.

“It was the jefa de montana!” She whisper-shouts, “I woke up early and saw her coming back with that cool knife of hers… Hey… Ingri…?”

“No Maria. You cannot have a knife.” Ingrid lets out, not looking away from her breakfast.

Alexis misses Mapis' sulk, as well as the loving bickering between her two best friends, because she is distracted by you, sitting across the camp entertaining Jana and Vicky. Seemingly a boundless source of energy and knowledge. You must feel someone's eyes on you because you look up and it feels like you look directly into Alexia's soul.

She holds the bowl up with a shy smile and mouths thank you, and she re-iterates to herself how well as truely fucked she is as as you send a wink her way which makes her knees weak.

“Oh estoy jodida”

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You smile as you waved the girls off from camp, it being your turn to stay behind and finish packing up the provisions and bringing up the rear of the group. With Mario leading the charge down into the gorge where you would make camp tonight.

It was your favourite day of the trek today, and you were excited about the girls reaction to the camp set up this evening. You expect that you would get there earlier than expected with these super-fit professional athletes, which would give you all more time to explore the lake. You found yourself looking forward to a certain blonde's face as she took in the view, the mountain above reflecting into the water.

It really was beautiful.

You knew yourself very well. That's the thing about being an explorer. You have to know yourself, you spend a lot of time alone and with your thoughts. You need to know your limits. Assess your feelings. Is this the half-way mark of my endurance? Do I need to turn around now? It was important for survival.

And with everything you've done you're not sure you’ll survive the next two days with Alexia Putellas.

You found her disarming. She was stoic but kind. She was serious but hilarious. Strong but vulnerable. She was stern but looked at you so softly it made your heart melt. 

She was a woman of contradictions in the best way. 

And you wanted to wrap your arms around her and keep her safe. Yeah, it was your job to keep everyone on this trip safe. But it wasn't your job that made you trek back 2 miles this morning to harvest the Aloe you saw yesterday. Or take an extra 20 minutes to set her tent up making sure she had everything that she didn't know she needed.

You knew why you did it, but you don’t think you were ready to be that honest with yourself yet.

You finished packing up camp and making sure there was no trace of your group and then continued along the trail. You thought you had a few hours before you encountered any of the famous fucking footballers you were guiding on account of most of them all being fucking olympians, but it hadn’t been more than 90 minutes before you spotted the same person who was clouding all of your thoughts.

“Hola Capi!” you shouted down the trail below you, you didn’t want to spook her and get to close as she looked lost in her thoughts, gazing down to the lake below.

“Ah, Hola Jefa de montaña” a smile overtaking her features. “I didn't expect you to be at the back, Capi” you tease, nudging her and continuing along at her side, “the young’uns making you feel old?”

There's that laugh again. The one that seems to fill a hole in your heart.

“no por supuesto que no, solo soy….” she trails off as you look at her curiously.

“Ah, lo siento, you don’t speak spanish, I’m just taking my time, enjoying the view, no rush, si?” she asks you, completely misinterpreting your look. You go to correct her but she speaks before you have a chance,

“So, where's your favourite exploration been?” and if there's anything that you can yap on about. It's your adventures.

Alexia loves the way your face lights up, loves the way that your whole body thrums with excitement. The way you describe the sights, sounds, smells of your travels. Her heart drops when you tell tall tales of alligator attacks in the south american swamps, her laughter bubbles as you tell her about accidental orders of bizarre and unusual foods in china, she blushes as you describe being run out a village in mongolia for sleeping with the mayor's wife (completely accidental of course).

You tell a story with your whole body, arms flailing and actions where appropriate. The time flies and the environment around Alexia is lost to the beauty she finds in your excitement.

You finally pause for breath and the silence makes you realise how long you have been speaking for.

“Oh my gosh, I am so sorry, I haven't stopped talking - ple…”

“Do not apologise” Alexia interrupts, “I like to hear you speak, your stories are so…” she struggles to find the word and takes a moment “...colourful. And exciting.” she snaps her fingers, happy with herself. 

“Exciting, me? Maybe. You though. Football, huh? That must be amazing. Free to travel the world… all of your adoring fans, huh?” you wiggle your brows and nudge her again, but her coy smile doesn’t appear like you expected it to.

She grows quiet, hand playing with the long grass as you both stroll by.

“Ah. Maybe. I thought so, but now… I’m thinking, maybe I am not so free?” she poses it as a question, and eyes lift to your face, and then her surroundings.

“I love football. Football is my life. But the other things… ah. I don’t know. Sometimes I wish I could walk down to mi Mamis without wearing a cap, or a hood. Just… go. You know?”

You do know. You couldn’t imagine such restrictions. Your spirit is a free one. And Alexia seems caged. Caged and wanting to break free.

“I get it, Ale.” your use of her name brings a blush to her face. And a smile you want to keep there. “Tell me about football.” you request, simply.

“What about it? It is the most beautiful game in the world! You are English, a good football nation, it’s coming home? No?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” you do. “I’m from the countryside. Football is played in cities. I cannot think of any football team not named after a City.”

“Football is played everywhere! It's the game of the Earth”

“Is it?” you ask, “tell me.” you request again.

And off she goes, she tells you how she loves her team, the fans, Barca, how the game brought her close to her father and she feels closer to him as she continues to play. You enjoy the excitement in her voice as she makes you both stop as she uses a stick to explain the offside rule. You force a cereal bar into her hand and make sure you both drink water as you go. Seamlessly, as she continues to talk about her life's passion.

Before you know it you notice the placement of the sun and realise you have nearly completed the miles for the day. You are shocked that you haven’t run into any of her teammates, though you suppose, you have both been walking slower as you chatted.

Though, that does mean you have left Mario with 23 clients. Fuck you owe him.

“The way you talk about it, It does sound like a beautiful game, capi.” you summarise, as she finishes telling you about the football camps for underprivileged kids she visits.

She pauses and looks into your face. The moment grows less jovial than the whole day had been and you hear Alexia whisper, “Eres hermosa”. “Huh?” you let out, surprised. “Oh, da nada, nothing. Sorry, I don’t usually speak too much English…”

“Ah, Capi!” you hear a third voice, raised across the clearing you had just entered, a canopy of trees above and now you are at the lake shore.

You are both shaken out of your trances as you realise you have made camp, and by the looks of it, the rest of the group had been here for a while. God, you really did owe Mario.

“Ah, chica!” you hear Marios best as he makes his way towards you, “you left me! These girls, they are loco!” you laugh as you see the sweat beading across his brow and his face still red, “the walk and walk and walk, they walk so quick!” 

Jana now makes her way over, taking Alexias backpack from her shoulders,

“We walk quickly because Capi told us whoever won she would give first dibs on shower privileges all seaso….” Jana is silenced by Alexia, who shoves her hand over her mouth. “Ay, Jana, she’s an iditoto, doesn’t know what she's talking about, Si. Vamos, Jana. You can help me set my tent up.”

Jana is practically dragged away as you focus your attention again on Mario.

“lo siento mi amigo,” you tell him, “I didn’t mean to.. I think I just got carried away…” you eyes follow the tall blonde as she makes her way across camp, Jana having abandoned her on route.

“Da nada my friend. I have not seen you like this before…” he smiles at you. “I think she is good for you.”

“Oh stop Mario. You know me. I can’t.”

“You won’t. That is different to you can’t. And I notice you do not deny, now, vamos, help me anti-bear this place.”

Your next hour is spent helping Mario set up camp, you're close to a huge water source now, and whilst bears will only come looking for food you need to take extra steps to not spook your clients, you keep the provisions away from camp, high in trees, you sprinkle ash from the fire around and you place dry leaves and twigs around, you and Mario are light sleepers, any visitor to camp will make you up.

Alexia has been abandoned by her team. “Team building, sure… you all have fun guys, I’ll be here…” she mumbles to herself as she struggles to feed the poles of her tent through the holes in the canvas. She takes a look up and sees you, lifting logs for the fire. All short, shorts and rippling muscles. Those same damn old boots on your feet so sexily rugged.

She gets lost in her thoughts, images swimming around her mind of making you sweat for different reasons, imagining being stood above you as you drop to your knees in front of her as she gathers your hair in her hand….

“Do you need me to help you with your pole?” you ask. SNAP.  Huh? Alexia looks up from the daydream she had embarrassingly got lost in. Ignoring the heat between her legs. She looks up, flustered.

“Q..Que?” she asks you, she looks down and sees the metal pole she was trying to thread through in two pieces in her hands.

“Oh… oops.” she continues. “Oh Ale… that's the centerframe pole. That's keeping the roof over your head. I can try to patch it up with some twine… but I’m not sure it will hold.” you tell her, examining the two pieces in her hands.

“Oh. Sorry. I don’t know what happened there.” Alexia tries to distract to get out of this awkward situation. “No problem, I will share it with Ingrid and Mapi. They won’t mind.”

You cast your eyes over to where Ingrid was walking into the lake in a two piece swimsuit, Mapi watching from the fire and almost setting her boot on fire as she paid no attention to her surroundings. You think they may mind.

“Okay Ale.” she knows her friends better than you, you suppose. “Now come, come look at this view.”

You lead her to the lakeside where most of the girls were settled, and you explain to the group some of the geography of how the gorge and lake was formed. And, to be fair to them, most of them did pretend to care. But you could tell they were just dying to jump in.

“Go on then Chicas! A few hours til dinner. Go have fun!”

The cheer that the group let out made you laugh, so did watching them as they scrambled over each other in the water as you and Mario made dinner.  Lucy having produced a small ball from somewhere they all start to play in the water. Somehow, you felt like you were all of a sudden guiding 12 year old boys.

You could make Ale out, in the middle of the fray, contemplative nature fully unleashed as she laughed and played around with her teammates. You loved seeing her so free and open. Especially after your chat today.

You find yourself at the campfire again, plating up dinner for the group and you see an open space next to Alexia.

You make your way over but before you get there the seat is taken by Vicky, you miss the scowl that takes over Ales face as she slaps the back of her younger teammate's head.

“That space was being saved!” she sulks, watching as you change direction and settle yourself next to Lucy. Quickly being drawn into conversation. “Yeah, Lopez, that's her girlfriend's seat!” Mapi sniggers.

“Lo Siento Ale, I didn’t know.” Vicky looks so apologetic that it tugs on Alexia's heart as her gaze softens and she pulls her head into her chest in an aggressive hug, she kisses her hair. “está bien pequeña”.

After another night of singing, card games and this time smores you get the attention of the group; “Okay girls, serious now. We are in bear country.” a gasp goes through the group, “Me and Mario have made the camp safe but there's always a chance a bear may wander into camp. I’m not saying this to scare you. I’m saying this to keep you safe.” you point down to your calf, where a slither of scar tissue can be seen,

“I’ve been on the wrong side of a hungry brown bear before. They are good creatures, just hungry. They hate humans. If, and this is a big if a bear wanders into camp you need to just make noise. That will be enough to scare it away and bring mine and Marios attention to you. Si?”

The group is quiet for a moment until Ingrid lets out an affirmative noise.

You think your little bear chat scared them because quickly it's just you, Mario and Alexia who remain awake, as Mario tells stories of his family and the mischief his children get up to. He lets out a big yawn.

“Mario, you can get to bed. I will sort this” you point down to the dying embers of the fire. “I owe you after today.” “You do” he smiles as he stands up and makes his way across camp to his hammock.

“I will go to bed also.” Alexia stands, and you offer to walk her to Mapi and Ingrids tent with your headlamp so she doesn't trip on any ropes.

That smile again. She nods and as you move closer to the tent you hear a noise. You put your hand on her arm to stop her, and cock your head to one side, that won’t be a bear, surely?

There! That noise again. Louder this time. Wait. A… groan?

“Oh my god.” Alexia whispers, a laugh in her voice. You're confused and then you hear it again, this time, it sounds suspiciously like a groan of a name. Maria. Oh. Oh for god's sake. 

“Maybe they took the ‘make noise’ instruction too seriously, si?” Alexia giggles into your ear. This makes you bark out a laugh, quickly hidden behind her hand that raises itself to your mouth.

“Qué fue eso” you hear from the tent. For some reason, this fills both you and Alexia with childish excitement and glee. As you pull her hand with you as you sprint away from the tent as though you are 9 in a school yard and have just been told someone has cooties.

You guide her to your hammock, and stand there, giggles subsiding, suddenly unsure of what to do.

“Maybe they forgot you were in with them tonight?” you ask the blonde, who shrugs and replies “with those two I don’t think much can stop them.” this makes you laugh lightly and then a beat of silence.

“Erm, you can take my hammock, sorry, some people don't find it comfortable but it keeps the mosquitos away and I can set up a roll matt by the fire.”

“No.”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to make yo…”

“No, I mean. I am not kicking you out of your bed. I will go on the matt… “

“No Ale. With your blood you’ll be eaten alive without a net… maybe..”

“Si?”

“Maybe we can share? The hammock is huge and it's normal for people to share in survival situations, you know, to keep warm and stuff.”

“Creo que tener calor será el problema.” “Pardon?” “Ah, nothing, I just said yes we should share.”

This keeps happening, and you think it's hilarious, and you let out a coy smile, “roomies?” you ask, Alexia matches your smile as she nods.

You let her get settled into the hammock in her sleeping bag before you pull it wider, there being plenty of material to hold you both comfortably. You forgot, the design of the hammock encapsulates you both, the canvas bowing upwards forcing you both into the middle, and creating a shield around you, mosquito net a curtain around you.

Suddenly, all your senses are full of Alexia. Alexia beneath you and stars above you. God. Have you died and gone to heaven? No. In heaven you wouldn't be separated by 2 layers of polyester sleeping bags.

You shuffle around to try to take some of your weight off her and lie by her side. “Sorry,” you mutter, feeling a type of embarrassment you never do when usually sharing this space, probably with another explorer, usually in some death defying situation. 

You don’t know how this perfectly safe encounter makes you more nervous than those. In those situations, you don’t have time to be embarrassed by how heavy your weight is on the other person, how it's been 2 days since your last shower…. How your breath must smell.

“Estas bien” she lets out, softly, and those two words calm you more than a half a bar of phone signal after days of trekking in the Atlas Mountains ever could. One of her arms envelopes your shoulder and your head settles onto her chest. “Lo siento my arm is in the way…”

“Estas bien.” you reply, softly.

Alexia has never been more comfortable in her entire life. The warmth of your body weighs on hers, the smell of you infiltrating her senses, the stars above and the gentle sway of the hammock.

Sleep is already dragging her as you whisper, “buenas noches que duermas bien ale”. 

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Alexia wakes to the feeling of movement on her chest. Before she opens her eyes she takes stock of her body. Her arms now fully wrapped around you. Hands tangled in your hair. You burrowed into her chest. She is warm.

She is happy.

She knows you're awake. But there's no springing apart in embarrassment. God no. She's not ashamed. She wants this moment to last forever.

But it can’t.

You groan in her arms as you both hear Mario clanking pans to start breakfast. You pop your head up like a meerkat to take note of the surroundings. It's early. Dew still in the grass and an early morning fog over the lake. The light is dim, the sun not yet as awake as the occupants of your hammock.

“Morning Ale” you croak, morning voice in full effect. You finally turn to her and your breath is nearly taken away by her beauty. Her face is open, hair bedridden and eyes bleary from sleep but smile tugging on her lips as she looks at you with that look.

“Cómo estás aún más hermosa por la mañana?” she asks, in a whisper trying not to break the silence of the morning, it just comes out of her mouth without thinking, and she can’t stop it.

You freeze in her arms, and for a moment she tenses.

“...pardon?” you ask. Ale covers herself, “Ah lo siento, I asked. Did you sleep well?” you hum in acknowledgement and she isn’t sure what to make of the look that you sent her way.

“Yes, very well thank you. At least you’re softer than the floor.” you joke, eyebrow arched.

“I am not soft!” she replies, affronted, “I am all muscle actually!” She sits up and begins to tense her biceps jokingly. This is the Ale that frightens you the most. Frightens you how deep your feelings will run. All jokes and soft edges and smiles. You need a moment.

“Alright alright superwoman. Go put the kettle on, will you? I’m going to jump in the lake to wash off before your girls wake up.” and with that you lean out of the hammock and pull your shirt off as you go, leaving you in a sports bra and Alexia with her mouth hanging open.

Which is why, not 6 minutes later, Ona is awoken to the sound of her tent unzipping.

“Lucia” she hears whisper-yelling, into the entrance of the tent. She freezes, sleep-addled mind confused… is that… Alexia?

“Lucia!” more urgent this time. Ona rolls away from her girlfriend and sees Alexia's head popped through the tent. Looking around urgently.

“What do you want, Ale?” Ona groans. Her girlfriend is dead to the world, an atomic bomb wouldn’t wake her up.

“I need Lucia!”

“What for. What has happened… it must be… 6am?” Ona grabs for her watch, confirming her suspicions. 

“Si, pero eso no importa, I need Lucia to translate for me.”

“You speak better English than she does Spanish.” One is very very confused. “What needs translating?”

“I do not need English, I need British.” Ah. This is making sense now, The whole team had seen how love sick their capi had been over the mountain boss. It was unnerving for them, but all of them wish nothing but happiness for their well respected leader, still, it’s always fun to tease.

“Ah, mi Capi. This has something to do with the jefe de montana, si?” a teasing smile enters her face, “por favor, tell me, what's happened?”

Alexia looks frustrated, looking at something outside of the tent, but seems to accept her fate as she lets herself fall into the tent, practically on top of Ona, whilst holding a… kettle?

“She asked me to put the kettle on. But Ona, I don’t know what I’m putting it on! Is it a special kettle? it doesn't do anything, look!” and with that the young defender gets a metal kettle thrust into her face as though it's a rubix cube that she has 30 seconds to solve

Her captain looks at her so urgently it would be sad if it wasn’t so hilarious. Ona can’t help herself as she bursts out laughing. All this does is further aggravate her captain.

“Oh, olvídalo, idiota, voy a despertar a Kiera.”

“No, No, No, lo siento mi Capi. You forget, I lived in England for years. She means for you to go boil the kettle. For hot drinks.”

Alexia looks at her dumbfounded, “then why didn’t she just say that!”

“I know” Ona looks at her with faux sympathy, as she passes the kettle back to her she looks so determined to complete the little task she's been set that offers her a lifeline.

“Capi, wait.” Alexia turns to look at her expectantly, “I have… experience? With the English.” her eyes dart to the lump that is Lucy sleeping beside her. Well Alexia can’t argue that.

“Make her a Tea. Just trust me.” Ona continues, sagely, as though she had just passed on the wisdom of the universe.

Alexia looks at her, about to question until…

“Tea? Someone's making tea?” Lucy grumbles, rolling over into Ona, seemingly awoken from her deep slumber like a dog who's just heard someone mention a walk.

Alexia doesn’t have time to open her mouth when she hears from the next tent over where she saw Keira set up last night, a thick english accent,

“Ey wait, Is someone brewing up?”

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It’s half an hour later and, with intervention from Lucy when Alexia tried to rip open a tea bag into your cup, that you have a warm enamel mug shoved into your hands. Alexia looked at you as though she had just handed you a pot of gold, all shining eyes and happy smile.

You feel much fresher after your early morning dip, trail shorts and vest back on and in two loose plaits that fall down over your shoulders. You look at the mug curiously, before you take a heavenly sniff of the liquid inside.

You thank the blonde, bashfully, and can’t help but place a grateful kiss on her cheek as you move past her. You pretend that your lips aren’t on fire from the contact. For her sake you also pretend that you didn’t see her stumble over a non-existent log at your action.

What you do miss though, is Ona sending her a wink, and the smug ‘i-told-you-so.” look at her face as she leans against her own girlfriend, who is happily drinking from her own mug.

You finish helping Mario make sure that all the girls are fed for the day before you stand in the middle of them and clap to gain their attention.

“Alright ladies! I hope you all slept well,- ” a mumble of affirmation goes through the group,

“I think Ingrid did not sleep so well.” Pina shouts across the group, “Si,” Parti joins in, “Did you see a bear Ingrid? Just I heard you screa-”

A rock is then thrown at Patris head, “ouch!” and you turn to see was directed by Mapi, Ingrid's face in a deep blush. The girls all burst into laughter.

God you were going to miss this group.

“Ok, Ok, Ladies calm it down. So, we have a choice today. Last full day on the hike… if you want it to be.” a curious mumble goes through the group. “Si, so, when we plotted this route someone…” you eye your partner “failed to mention that you are all literal athletes, so, we’re actually ahead of schedule, I’ve spoken to the bus company and if you want to then we can actually make it to the rendezvous spot today. It gives you a day back in Barcelona to yourselves before you start back at your traini….”

“No!” you’re interrupted as the group turns to Alexia who looks as though you’ve just asked her to never kick a ball again.

She takes a moment and realises that she's on her feet in front of the group, half of which are looking at her as though she's lost her mind, and the other half are looking at her with wry grins like they know exactly what's going on. 

“I mean, we should not. We need to bond. As a team. Si?” she asks the group “That is why we are here, and we should do that. Yes.” She looks at her teammates determinedly, nodding, as though daring anyone to question her. 

“But, Ale, you said that you hate–”, you see why Alexia is the best football player on the planet as you witness the speed in which she moves over to Jana and covers her entire face with her hand, stopping her words.

“No Jana, shhh pequeño. You look unwell. Are you feeling okay?” All Jana can do is nod under her giant hand as Mapi sniggers behind hers.

Okay, maybe you wouldn’t miss this group too much. They can be a bit weird. But you pretend that you don’t put more enthusiasm into your next sentence.

“Or, we can take the long way round to the rendezvous point, we’ll get some great views of the lake from that ridge over there” you point upwards and 23 eyes follow your movement, “set up camp for one more night, me and Mario can set up a Bonfire for our last night, yes?” he nods, “and then back to the bus in the morning if we would prefer?”

“Si, That we would prefer!” Alexia answers for the whole group, though the enthusiastic nods behind her assure you that they agree with her.

“Okay then, let's pack up campers, we'll have some elevation gains today!” you smile, clapping your hands together and a groan settles through the group as you move to pack up the breakfast items you hear Mapi and Alexia talking,

“Todos estamos haciendo esto por ti y por tu capitán de vida amorosa, recuérdalo el día del entrenamiento en circuito.”

Alexia responds in a tone you haven't heard from her before, “Lo sé, gracias Mapi. Simplemente no estoy listo para decir adiós todavía, ella es especial” she looks direct at you as she responds, no attempt to hide her spanish words, and the intensity of her gaze makes you look away.

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

All you wanted to do was a repeat of yesterday, hang at the back of the group and walk with Alexia. Maybe let your hand brush against hers a few times more than necessary and learn all about her life in Barca.

But, you were the best guide on this side of Europe for a reason. And you think Mario would push you off the mountain if you left him to do it again, even if he tells you he wouldn’t, you still felt bad about yesterday. 

So today, you found yourself at the front of the group. Weirdly, Alexia by your side with a few of the older girls, as well as Jana and Vicky who were hanging off Alexia's every word. It was cute, watching her with them.

Whatever fatigue she was suffering from yesterday which slowed her down so much seemed to have lifted, as her strong legs carried her with the rest of the group upwards. The elevation not bothering any of the women.

You were just hanging back with Mapi and Ingrid for a moment. Mapis backpack was bothering her, probably on account of her trying to carry all of Ingrids kit, you were teasing her as you helped to re-adjust the weight as Mapi was grumbling about how she definitely was strong enough to carry two sleeping bags, a tent as well as two sets of clothing whilst Ingrid was literally carrying a pillow, when the hair on the back of your neck stood up.

Something didn’t feel right, you looked up and could still see the front of the group, Alexia and Vicky chatting, going off Aleixas hand movements there was some deep football discussion going on.

You take stock of everything around you. In order to be in your line of work you needed to be aware of all of your senses, if one failed, another would pick it up, a smell in the air brought your attention and you turned to see droppings just off the trail. A large amount of droppings, and, oh no, green. You turned again and saw a tree bark torn up further away from the trail.

Fuck.

Bear droppings are green and quickly turn black as they oxidise, bears tear up trees and rocks as they pass through an area. These droppings were fresh, very fresh.

That, tied with your fantastic intuition, made you nervous.

The group had continued onward as you took stock and Alexia and Vicky had turned a corner just up the trail. You quickly help Mapi back into her backpack and move through the group quickly, making your way to the front.

“Detener!” you shout, wanting Alexia and Vicky in your sights. You turn the corner and your shout has caught their attention as they are both frozen, looking at you expectantly.

What they fail to notice, however, is a bear on the trail in front of them, not 20 metres away.

It’s a young bear, that you can tell, which is good because of its size, but the worst possible situation because young bears, like humans, are stupid. 

They are curious, they don’t see you as a threat, but if there is a bear this young here, there will be a mother bear somewhere around which you definitely do not want to be on the wrong side of.

You need to separate your group from this bear as quickly as possible. But without freaking them out.

“Alexia, walk towards me.” you instruct, seriously, arm out reaching towards the two girls, whilst you hold your other arm out behind you. Stopping the rest of the group before they can move forwards.

“What’s the matte— oh meirda…” Alexia has turned and seen what's on the path in front of her. Her back immediately straightens and grabs Vicky to pull her behind her. You hate the quick movement that they make as you inwardly cringe at their actions.

“Alexia, stay calm.” you slowly move towards them, “do not make any quick movements.” you don’t receive any sort of affirmation as both girls seem to be frozen in place.

“No te muevas rápidamente, no corras. Caminar hacia atrás lentamente” your use of spanish seems to get through the fear as you see Alexias feet start to scramble backwards, pushing Vicky behind her, who remains shielded behind her back.

You move forwards, slowly, arms still raised and as soon as in touching distance, pull Alexia behind your back. You can’t see her face as you refuse to move your eyes from the threat in front of you, but you can feel the terror running through her body.

Meanwhile, the bear is having a great old time, sniffing around and pawing at the ground. He’s stopped on the trail and is looking at you, curiously, as he starts to move towards you, you hear a yelp of terror from one of the girls behind you.

Usually, you know, to make yourself big and back up as slowly as possible, but you’re in a group of 23 novice hikers, and you knew you had to get this threat away as quickly as possible.

So instead, you make yourself big, you raise your arms in the air and start to move forward. You feel a tug on the back of your shirt and a frightened whimper from the tall blonde who seems to have grasped onto your shirt.

You take a big stride forwards as you move a hand back to untangle Alexia's grasp from your shirt.

“OYE, OSO. LO SIENTO AMIGO, TINES QUE MOVERTE!” you continue to move forward and wave your hands around. The bear cocks his head at you, curiously, you’re still moving closer and an alarm is going off in your mind, he’s gotta start moving or you’re going to be too close for comfort…

“SEGUIR. IRSE” you clap your hands together sharply, and that seems to frighten the curiosity from the young bear, who quickly scurries off the path and deep into the bush on your right hand side. 

The silence of the moment is suffocating. You take a moment and breathe some deep breaths. Filling your lungs and slowly releasing it. Once you feel your heartbeat settle down you turn on your heel and open your eyes to face the group behind you.

There, you are faced with 23 shell shocked faces. Mouths comically dropped as they all stare at you in awe.

The silence is interrupted as Mario catches up to the group, singing under his breath, you see his head pop up from the back of the group and an innocent smile on his face, “Hey chicas? What did I miss?”

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  

“...And then El jefe de la montaña practically tackled this enormous bear that was virtually salivating at the thought of eating Ales pert butt as a light snack!”

Mapi dramatically, and incorrectly recites her version of events for what feels like the 5th time for the rest of the group who were hanging back with Mario during the excitement of the day.

The whole group sat together at the bonfire that you and Mario had erected, you’d gone the whole hog and dragged logs over to create a circle around the fire. You’d cracked out the marshmallows you’d been hiding deep in your backpack and you and the girls had had an evening of jokes, stories and, after Matio whipped his ukulele out again, songs. 

You’re sitting with Ingrid and you miss the warmth at your side that had been present over the last two days. Alexia is sat with Vicky, and, whilst she’s been nothing but pleasant to you since the incident this afternoon, you feel like a barrier has come up between you.

You try to not overthink the situation, who are you anyway? She's Alexia Putellas, and, over the last 3 days you've learnt that that's a big deal. Of course she isn’t interested in you. God. You need to be a professional. You try to stay in the moment and stop your mind from running away. You feel the heat from the fire on your face as you close your eyes.

“... and how did you learn to do that?” you hear, and as Ingrid nudges your side, you realise Mapis question was aimed at you.

You open your eyes and see the attention of the group on you. There may be an entire football team's eyes on you but you can’t help but zone in on a certain set of hazel eyes which bore directly into your soul.

“I told you, I’ve been on the wrong end of a bear in my time.” you try to joke, pointing at the scar again running down your leg, and you get a few chuckles, but you note, Alexia's face remains stoic, and her frown deepens at your words.

“What happened?” Vicky asks, next to her. She receives a light slap to the head from her captain, “Aye, don’t be rude pequeño.”

“I don’t mind Ale.” you say, heart warming at Alexias protectiveness, “well, little football superstar” you address Vicky, “I was on a 6 month trek through the Andeas, we wanted to see if we could find any further remains from the Incas. We did by the way. Anyway, I was young, and stupid and we hadn’t stored our food safely, which, you’ll note, me and Mario have done today.” you reach across and give your partner a fist bump, “a mother bear wandered into our camp whilst I was alone. I was an idiot and got between her and an open packet of cheetos.”

“Cheetos!” Vicky asks, incredulously.

“Yes! Turns out they love those cheesy snacks” you wink at her, “she attacked and luckily, my camp leader was just coming back and managed to deploy his bear spray just as she managed to take a good swipe at my calf. I was lucky. But it wasn’t her fault. I was in her land and didn’t protect myself properly.”

Vicky waxes lyrical about your story for a while, asking you a million and one questions. The conversation across the campfire moves onto the upcoming season for the team as you and Mario start to set camp up for the night around them.

“Hey, Al, Me and Ing are heading to bed, I promise we’ll behave tonight, but I can’t promise I won’t cuddle you.” you hear Mapi address to Alexia,

“Great, look forward to it” Alexia replied sarcastically. Mapis retreat to bed seems to have set off a chain reaction amongst the team who all start to say their goodnights.

You can’t pretend that you aren’t upset that you won’t have a repeat of last night in your hammock. The sadness swirls in your stomach, but you remind yourself that the whole thing seemed to be a fantasy you’d made up in your mind. 

You look up to the sky and with your head torch can see that it seems to have darkened somewhat. You move away from camp and string a rope above your hammock, you throw over a tarpaulin which covers your hammock and protects you from any rain.

As you move back to the fire you decide you’ll wait it out instead of throwing water on to drown the fire. You have some excess energy from the excitement of the day and you know you’ll just lie awake in your hammock anyway. As Mario squeezes your shoulder in goodnight you notice that Alexia seems to be hanging around the edge of the circle. 

“Night Ale.” you say, kindly. It’s not her fault you have a massive unrequited crush on her.

You don’t know her well but she seems…nervous? Hands playing with themselves and feet unable to stay still.

“Nig… actually… Can we talk?” she asks, chin turning upwards and vulnerability showing on her face.

You nod and you are surprised when she sits next to you and asks, “why do you still do it?”

You look at her, curiously, she is so beautiful. Sharp angles of her face illuminated by the dying embers, perfect lips, the arch of her nose. She takes your breath away. You have a question in your eyes.

“This. As a job. You got hurt…” her hand moves, and god it's only been a few hours but you feel like you’ve been touch starved for years, as she lightly traces the scar on your calf. Leaving behind a wake of goosebumps. “You’re so brave…”

Maybe it's her touch that makes gives you the confidence but you dont think before you reply,

“I could ask you the same thing.” She has a question in her eyes now, so you repeat her action, hand moving to touch her knee where you can see the surgery scars that pull tight against her skin.

You feel her take in a breath and you think you may have overstepped until she takes your hand in her large one, keeping your hand resting on her knee.

You look into the fire as you continue; “I love my job. I can’t imagine my life without it. It gives me air in my lungs. It's my reason to live. And yeah. I got hurt. I've been hurt before and I’ll be hurt again.” Alexia squeezes your hand at that, “but that's why we do what we love, isn’t it? You’re so brave every time you step out onto a pitch again” you direct your question to her, “we learn from our mistakes, come back stronger from our injuries, not just in our skills but as people? No?” 

There's that look again, those open eyes, that expression you can’t place.

“Football is the same for you Ale. I can tell. When you talk about it. Think of that feeling you get. That's why I carry on. I love it, and it wasn’t that bears fault I got hurt, It was mine. Just as it wasn’t the rocks fault as I slipped 200 feet down Mt Kilimanjaro. They’re all lessons on how to adapt, on how to come back stronger.”

She nods, a look of understanding in her eyes and turns her gaze towards the fire. But doesn’t let go of your hand. 

You don't know what Alexia is thinking. You don't know that she feels like every word out of your mouth feels like you've plucked it straight from her heart. You're deep. She feels like finally someone gets her.

“You spoke Spanish today.” she lets out into the silence.

Ah, you think, she hadn’t missed it like you thought that she may have done in the heat of the moment. And, as usual, you try to break the tension with a joke.

“He was a Spanish bear. I wanted him to understand me.”

Alexia doesn't laugh but instead turns to you again, “I feel stupid.” 

There's that vulnerability again.

“No. Never feel stupid Alexia, you are the most intelligent person I have ever met.” you reply, instantly, and turn your body to hers,

“You didn’t tell me that you spoke spanish… everything I have said…”

“I meant to! Honestly I did, I mean I told you I lived in Peru for two years.” she raises her eyebrow at you… “Ale they speak Spanish in Peru.” “Oh.”

Her eyes drop down to the floor and you can’t physically allow that look of sadness to sit on her face for a moment longer.

“I think you’re more beautiful in the mornings too.” you whisper, the only noise around you the crackling of the drying embers around you.

Alexia looks up at this, eyes somewhat, hopeful? And it's that look that gives you the belief that maybe maybe she feels the same way?

“Si? Even though you made me smell like garlic?” she asks, before the syllable is even out of her mouth you reply. “Si, tan hermoso. Aunque tal vez sea más hermoso ahora con la luz del fuego.”

You stood in front of a bear today.

But the scariest moment of your day is as you move your head towards hers, slowly, more frightened of this rejection than any wild animal.

You look deeply into her eyes and the permission you seek is gained there, she gives you a small nod as she closes the distance between you both. Her lips finally meet yours in a gentle and sweet kiss.

It's like fireworks have gone off in your stomach. 

Your mouth tingles where it presses against hers, your lips softly encase her lower lip and you hear her squeak of satisfaction which is the cutest fucking thing you have ever heard in your life.

You kiss as though you have all the time in the world. It is gentle and slow. Until it is not. And then you kiss like a pair of horny teenagers as it deepens and you groan into her mouth as her tongue seeks permission in yours.

You would have continued all night had mother nature not intervened. 

You’re good with your senses and you hear the fizz of the fire going out before you feel the drops of rain on your skin. You pause your movements and look deep into Alexia's eyes.

“Y hueles deliciosa” you whisper, enjoying the way her eyes crinkle as you make her laugh.

“Will you sleep with me?” you ask, her eyes widen in panic at your question and it takes your lust-addled brain a moment to catch up, “wait. No! No Lo siento, no soy un asqueroso! I mean. Will you stay with me tonight in my hammock? No funny business, I promise!”. 

Your hands move off the taller girls hips where they seem to have found themselves as she settled onto your lap, and you hold them high in surrender.

Alexia saw you face a bear today.

And the look on your face now is more panicked than it was then. 

She smiles at you, god she has it bad she thinks.

“Si, I will, and… maybe some funny business?”

You’re lucky that your bark of laughter doesn’t wake up any of your campmates.

Content that the rain which is now falling more heavily will take care of the fire, you rush the blonde to your hammock, lifting the tarpaulin above her head so she could duck down and she settles herself into the material like a seasoned pro.

You open up your sleeping bag and turn it into a blanket which will cover you both as she opens up her arms and you settle into them. It’s pitch black in the tent and you feel as though your other senses are working to make up for it. The rain patters against the plastic sheet above you and you enjoy the sound as you enjoy the warmth beneath you, the hammock still swaying gently.

You shuffle in the blondes hold, moving so that you can lie stomach to stomach. Your face close to hers, you exchange gentle kisses and enjoy the feeling of her hands on your back as you gently scratch against her scalp.

Your head on her chest as sleep starts to take you, still enjoying the heat of her body and the ministrations of her hands which have moved beneath your t-shirt.

“Maybe the outdoors isn’t so bad.” you hear her whisper as sleep takes hold. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Life is funny sometimes.

You think to yourself.

You think about how you got here.

Not 24 hours ago stood in Arles, a minibus packed with footballers in front of you, and, in most cases, gawking at you, faces pushed against the windows, comically, as Ingrid moved through the inside of the bus, slapping heads and pulling them back into their seats.

You’d held Alexia's hands. You’d followed her lead this morning and since you both woke up and made breakfast at the campfire, she hadn’t stopped being affectionate, seemingly, no hint of hiding her affections from her teammates.

She’d hung behind with you and helped you pack up camp, as you both spent what you thought potentially was your last morning together.

It was light, you both had laughed easily and teased each other relentlessly.

Until that moment, when reality struck. You, due to fly back home to England in a few hours, and Alexia, about to board a bus which would take her miles away from you.

You’d already scribbled your number onto a trail mix wrapper and secured it into her hand. She had promised to message as soon as she could and you had promised to keep in touch, trying to keep the tears that teased your eyes at bay as you settled your face into her warm palm. 

But it hadn’t felt right.

It wasn’t fair. It was too soon. This had felt too right.

So you hadn’t been able to control yourself, as you faced her back as she boarded the bus when you asked; “Hey, Ale?” she’d turned and you knew you hadn’t misplaced that look of hope in her eyes, “Have you ever been to an 82nd birthday party?”

The grin that overtook her face could only be matched by yours.

So here you now found yourself. Standing in your nan’s garden under a gazebo as the English rain lightly drizzled, only 2 hours fashionably late for the event you actually arrived back in England for 4 days ago.

As your brother had opened the door earlier, you laughed at the shock on his face when he took Alexia in. All blonde, lean and mediterranean and very out of place in the middle of the drizzle of the English lake district.

Your whole extended family had popped up behind your brother, smiles and coy grins on their faces. Your mum broke the stunned silence at your arrival, more specifically, at the blonde by your side.

“I’ll put the kettle on.”

Alexia's face broke out into a huge grin that literally warmed your heart.

“I know how to do that!” she had replied, excitedly, her spanish accent thick.

Well, maybe not that out of place.

fin.  

[bylerween]

Announcing the daily themes for BYLERWEEN 2024! 🎃🦇👻

Each day has three themes: a Halloween theme, a show theme, and a one-word theme. Feel free to use inspiration from just one, two, or all three themes for each day!

Day 1: Sunday, October 27:

Horror AU

Demo Creatures

Summon

Day 2: Monday, October 28:

Masquerade

Turn it Upside Down

Spell

Day 3: Tuesday, October 29:

Graveyard & Zombies

Young Byler & Old Byler

Haunt

Day 4: Wednesday, October 30:

Pumpkins & Skeletons

The Party

Transform

Day 5: Thursday, October 31:

Costume Contest

Trick or Treat, Freak (2x02)

Sweet

Day 6: Friday, November 1:

Movie Night

Hawkins Lab

Fire

Day 7: Saturday, November 2:

Fortune Telling

Season 5 Era

Shiver

🎃🦇👻

Extra prompts and ideas for these themes are under the Read More cut!

amazing art by @magentamee!!!

Here are some additional ideas that you can use as inspiration for each day's themes! You don't need to follow these prompts at all, but feel free to jump off of these ideas.

Day 1: Sunday, October 27:

Horror AU: Make an AU of your favorite horror movie, show, video game, or book. Feature Mike and Will as the villains, or as the final ones standing.

Demo Creatures: Demogorgans, Demodogs, and Demobats, oh my! Revisit our favorite creatures from the Upside Down. Will Dustin’s beloved D’Artagnan make a reappearance? Or create a brand new kind of Demo Creature!

Summon: Will the Wise and the brave paladin Michael are summoned to complete a quest! Or maybe at a spooky sleepover, Mike and Will accidentally summon a demon.

Day 2: Monday, October 28:

Masquerade: Will kisses someone handsome at the masquerade ball, but they had a mask on - was it Mike or someone else? The party shows up to the ball to have a good time, but are surrounded by enemies in masks. Hidden identities, lots of dancing, and a raucous good time!

Turn it Upside Down: Explore the Upside Down, whatever that means to you! Will and Mike go through a gate into the Upside Down, or flip the whole ship on its head: Willow and Michelle around Halloween, underexplored AU’s, flipped ship dynamics. Go crazy with it.

Spell: Enchantments, curses, and magic. Has Hawkins been placed under a spell this Halloween? Will the Wise casts a spell, or has to undo one.

Day 3: Tuesday, October 29:

Graveyard & Zombies: Buried bodies, graveyard shifts, and ghosts. Will and Mike work at the graveyard and have to stop an undead army from rising, or maybe that’s just where they share their first kiss. The “Zombie Boy” nickname still stings Will when it’s thrown around at school, or maybe not so much after Mike fights their bullies.

Young Byler & Old Byler: What did Mike and Will get up to on their first, second, third Halloween together? How do Mike and Will celebrate Halloween once in college, or in their 20s, 30s, 40s, or 50s? How are they spending Halloween in 2024?

Haunt: What still haunts Mike and Will all these years later? Mike searches for Will who is haunting him while still stuck in the Upside Down. Mike and Will bravely face the Hawkins Haunted House, or move into an actual haunted house as adults.

Day 4: Wednesday, October 30:

Pumpkins & Skeletons: Will and Mike carve pumpkins together, make a pumpkin pie, or investigate the mystery of the rotten pumpkin fields in Hawkins. The party fights against skeletons come to life, or a mystery in Hawkins begins when an unlikely skeleton is found.

The Party: Any and all Party Halloween shenanigans! Explore party dynamics during the spooky season, from pranks to trick or treating. What was the party’s first Halloween together like? The party attends or hosts a Halloween party.

Transform: Transformations of any kind! Werewolves, vampires, Frankenstein, or just the kind of transformation that happens when you are stuck in the Upside Down for a week.

Day 5: Thursday, October 31:

Costume Contest: The party is going all out for costumes this year! Or is it just an AU? Dress Mike and Will up in historical clothes, clothes from your other favorite fandom, or anything else! No matter what, Mike and Will are dressed to impress this year.

Trick or Treat, Freak: A perfect day to appreciate our beloved season 2 Halloween episode. Ghostbusters, Max Mayfield has joined the party, Will sees a shadow in the sky. Crazy together.

Sweet: What’s Halloween without candy? Mike and Will share their favorite candies, or maybe they’re just being extra sweet to each other this Halloween.

Day 6: Friday, November 1:

Movie Night: Whether it’s the whole party or just Will and Mike, at the movie theater or just hanging out in the basement: Byler is cozied up and watching their favorite Halloween movie. Or, what if the party is making an amateur horror flick?

Hawkins Lab: What goes on there, and how are Will and Mike involved? Mad scientists, dangerous experiments, and kids with powers.

Fire: Bonfires to keep our boys warm on a chilly October night, the fire under a wizard’s cauldron, Will the Wise casts Fireball, or a dark night lit only by candlelight.

Day 7: Saturday, November 2:

Fortune Telling: Look into the crystal ball and tell me what you see! Will or Mike get their fortune read and things go awry! Horoscopes, tarot reading, palm reading, tea leaves: does knowing the future make things easier, or so much worse?

Season 5 Era: Time to daydream about our season 5 era! Speculate about what spooky things will happen based on the behind the scenes pictures. What does the next Halloween after season 4 look like for Mike and Will? Is there still time to trick or treat when the world is ending?

Shiver: “He’s right behind me, isn’t he?” What has Mike and Will shivering with fright: a supernatural creature, something ancient and mysterious, or a strange deadly virus that has the whole town shivering? Mike and Will get trapped somewhere cold. Will insists that “he likes it cold.” Or maybe there’s just a chill in the air - it is autumn after all.

[goddessofvalyria]

WITCH QUEEN | Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader.

Summary: Aemond Targaryen met a witch at Harrenhal, the two fell in love and thanks to her help, the Greens won the war. But in the end with Aegon dead it was Aemond who succeeded his brother and was crowned king at the Dragonpit with the crown of the Conqueror. He married his witch with the Valyrian marriage, making her his witch queen.

TW: 18+, MINORS DNI, She/Her pronouns, she is a witch from Essos, described as very beautiful, intelligent and charming, with long black hair and eyes. Since they met in Harrenhal, the witch takes Alys's place. Sexual themes: Oral (f receiving), masturbation (f receiving) SMUT, sexual tension, sex, sex, sex, they conceive their sixth child.

English is not my first language, be kind <3

This is my Masterlist

Words: 3333

Aemond Targaryen, during his time at Harrenhal, encountered a witch who was strikingly beautiful, intelligent, and charming, with long black hair and charming black eyes. The two fell deeply in love, with her Aemond and the Greens were able to win the war.

After the death of his brother Aegon, Aemond ascended the iron throne and was crowned king at the Dragonpit, wearing the crown of Aegon the Conqueror. He married the witch through a traditional Valyrian ceremony, making her his queen.

Now, Aemond reigns as the King of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, living a happy and peaceful life with his witch queen and their children at the Red Keep.

On a quiet day in the Red Keep, Aemond Targaryen lay on the bed beside his queen witch, their laughter echoing softly through the room. The afternoon sun streamed through the windows, casting a warm glow over the chamber. Their four children Aegon, Visenya, Daemon and Daenys, surrounded them with a sense of playful excitement. Little Maegor, the youngest, was still nestled in his cradle, cooing softly.

Aemond, his long silver hair unbound, chuckled as his children clamored around him, eager to braid his hair. "All right, all right" he said with a grin, surrendering to their demands. "Who will go first?"

"Me!" Aegon declared, his violet eyes sparkling with determination. He clambered onto the bed and began to carefully braid a small section of his father's hair.

Visenya watched her brother with an amused smile. "You're doing it all wrong, Aegon" she teased. "Let me show you how it's done."

Aemond exchanged a glance with his witch, his eyes filled with warmth and love. "What do you think, my queen? Shall we let them continue their assault on my hair?"

She laughed softly, her fingers tracing patterns on his arm. "I think you're in good hands, my king" she replied, her voice full of affection. "Besides, you're a wonderful dad. Let them have their fun."

Daemon, not wanting to be left out, climbed up and grabbed another section of Aemond's hair. "I'm going to make a warrior braid" he announced proudly.

Daenys, the youngest of the group, giggled as she climbed into her mother's lap and took a small handful of her long hair. The witch queen hair was long and wavy, reaching to her knees, the child trying to imitate her brothers. The witch stroked her hair, letting her play. "Be gentle, little one" she whispered, stroking her cheek. "Yes mummy"

Aemond smiled down at his children, his heart full of love.

The witch queen watched the scene with a contented smile, her heart swelling with love for her family. "You know" she said softly, "These are the moments that matter most."

Aemond nodded, his gaze lingering on his children. "Yes, my queen, my love" he agreed, "These quiet, simple moments are what make everything worthwhile."

As the children continued to braid and play, Maegor stirred in his cradle, letting out a small cry. The queen rose to tend to him, gently scooping him into her arms and soothing him with a soft lullaby.

Aemond watched her, his heart full. "We are blessed, my love" he murmured, his eye never leaving her. "Blessed beyond measure."

She looked up at him, her violet eyes shining. "Yes" she whispered, "We are, my love"

Together, they sat surrounded by their children, basking in the simple joy of a peaceful day—a king and his witch queen, bound by love, and the promise of a bright future for their family.

That night, as the Red Keep settled into a quiet stillness, Aemond and his witch queen lay together in their bed, the soft glow of candlelight flickering around them. She rested her head on his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath her cheek. Aemond’s arm wrapped around her, holding her close, his fingers idly tracing patterns along her back. For a moment, they simply lay in silence, content in each other’s presence. But the stillness of the night brought with it memories of a time when peace seemed an impossible dream.

"Do you ever think about it?" she asked softly, her voice barely more than a whisper in the dark. "The war?"

Aemond’s gaze drifted to the ceiling, his mind wandering back to those days of fire and blood, of betrayal and loss. "I do" he admitted, his voice a low murmur. "More often than I care to."

She lifted her head slightly to look up at him, her violet eyes searching his face. "Do you regret any of it?" she asked, her voice gentle but laced with curiosity.

Aemond was silent for a moment, his jaw tensing as he considered her question. "I regret nothing" he said finally. His gaze darkening with the weight of the past. "And I do not regret the choices that led me to you."

Her lips curved into a small, sad smile. "Though the path was filled with shadows, it brought us here, to this moment, to this life we've built together."

Aemond’s hand moved to gently stroke her hair, the silver strands mingling with her dark locks. "We were forged in fire" he said softly. "In the crucible of war. And yet, we emerged stronger… together."

She closed her eyes, feeling the warmth of his words wash over her. "I still remember the first time I saw you" she murmured. "At Harrenhal. I knew then that our fates were entwined."

Aemond smiled faintly, his eyes softening at the memory. "And I knew that you were more than you seemed" he replied. "A witch from Essos, yes, but so much more… my guiding star in the darkness."

She chuckled softly. "A queen witch" she corrected, her tone light, though her heart swelled with love. "Your queen witch"

Aemond’s smile widened, a rare softness in his expression. "My queen" he agreed. "The light that led me through the darkest nights."

They fell into a comfortable silence again, their thoughts lingering on the past but finding solace in the present. The horrors of the war seemed a lifetime ago, a distant memory overshadowed by the love and peace they now shared.

She smiled against his chest, her heart steady and calm. The witch queen was so in love with his husband.

Aemond lay in the quiet of their bedchamber, the flickering candlelight casting soft shadows on the walls. He could feel the warmth of his witch queen beside him, her head resting on his chest, her breath slow and steady as she listened to the rhythmic beat of his heart. The comfort of their closeness should have put him at ease, but his thoughts drifted to a lingering insecurity.

He stared at the ceiling, his hand absentmindedly brushing against the leather eyepatch he wore. Aemond had grown accustomed to the feel of it, to the weight of the past it carried. Yet, he had never grown used to the thought of his children seeing him without it. He feared what they might think—the fear they might feel at the sight of his scarred, empty socket, a reminder of the violence and pain he had endured.

Sensing his unease, she lifted her head, her violet eyes filled with concern. "What troubles you, my love?" she asked softly, her fingers gently tracing his jawline.

Aemond hesitated for a moment, then sighed, turning his gaze away from her. "I worry" he admitted quietly. "About our children… seeing me like this. Without the patch."

She reached up and touched his cheek, guiding his face back toward her. "They are your children, Aemond" she whispered, her voice filled with love. "They see you as their father, their protector. Not as a man with a scar."

He shook his head slightly. "But what if they fear me?" he asked, his voice barely more than a whisper. "What if they see the monster I see when I look in the mirror?"

Her heart ached at his words. She leaned up and kissed him gently, her lips soft against his. "You are no monster" she whispered against his lips. "You are a warrior, a king… a father who loves his children more than anything. They see your strength, your courage. They see the man I see—the man I love."

Aemond closed his eye, letting her words wash over him, feeling the warmth of her love seep into his soul. "You have always seen the best in me" he murmured, his voice rough with emotion. "Even when I could not."

She smiled softly, her fingers brushing through his silver hair. "Because there is so much to love in you" she replied. "And our children will see that too, in time."

He looked at her then, his gaze filled with a deep longing, a desire that had been growing within him. "Another child" he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "I want another child with you."

Her breath caught at his words, a smile spreading across her lips. "You want to expand our family?" she asked, her voice filled with love.

He nodded, his eye searching hers. "Yes, he said softly. "I want to see our children grow, to see them thrive in the peace we have fought so hard to secure. I want to build a future with you, a future filled with love and laughter… and more children if you want."

She felt a swell of emotion in her chest, her heart overflowing with love for the man beside her.

Aemond’s expression softened, his lips curving into a tender smile. He pulled her closer, his lips finding hers in a deep, passionate kiss. They lost themselves in the warmth of each other’s embrace, their bodies moving together in perfect harmony, their love consuming them.

Aemond kissed her in a passionate, dirty, hot kiss, his hands tightened around his witch queen's face, their lips devouring each other with each kiss, biting and their tongues, intertwined. "Tell me you want it, my love" Aemond whispered with his forehead resting on hers. "I want to make another baby with you, Aemond" she replied placing her hands on her husband's bare chest. "My husband" his witch queen whispered brushing his lips. "Let's do it, let's make another baby" she whispered in his ear.

She kissed his neck, her full lips wet and warm making Aemond wince. The witch traced a trail with her long nails up Aemond's spine. He shivered, she continued to kiss his skin, moving down to his chest and licking his warm skin. "My wife wants her husband mh?" he took her face with one hand. "And my husband wants his wife?" she teased him.

"He wants her so much," she continued, playing along. "He wants to fuck her until he fills her up with his seed, make sure he gets her pregnant and that in nine months a new life can come into the world." She looked at him with eyes full of love and perversion, Aemond kissed her again and in an unkind gesture he tore off her nightgown. Her sweet wife naked in front of him was so beautiful and he was sure that she between her thighs was soaked.

His witch queen looked at him so dominant over her, she felt excited, wet between her thighs. "Mmh my husband…" she whispered, rising on her knees, Aemond lost her in his arms, caressing her body with his hands, his long fingers making her wriggle. Her back resting against his chest, his hand caressed her neck, went down to her breasts, along her side and then two fingers slid between her legs, caressing her intimacy. "Ao sagon sīr gevie" (You are so beautiful) he whispered in High Valyrian. Aemond kissed her neck again, his violet eye burning on my skin and soon after she, lying in bed in her husband's arms, felt his two fingers slide inside her hot wet pussy.

She pushed her hips against his hand, feeling her legs go soft and his other hand squeezed her breast. "Aemond… Gods" she begged between moans. Aemond kissed her neck again before increasing the speed of his fingers inside her.

"Let me take care of you first, my love" Aemond whispered. "Lie on your back" he whispered releasing her hands and moving between her legs. He kissed her skin, moving with hot and wet kisses from her ankle to the inside of her thigh. His eye looked at her hungrily, his touch was hot, the sapphire shining in the dark. he spread her legs and then buried his face between them, eliciting a moan of pure pleasure from her. He starved for her sweet taste on his tongue. "Oh…. Aemond, Aemond!" He alternated between licking and sucking her clit as his fingers inside her touched and pushed deep into her wet folds. Her hips moved to meet his tongue as her moans grew louder and more frequent. She felt her legs tremble, arched her back and tightened a hand in her long silver hair. "Aemond, Aemond, Aemond!" she whispered excitedly, his nose pressing against her clit.

Aemond devoured her, licking her pussy and fucking her with his tongue. He wanted to impregnate her, but first he wanted to see her come for him. Gods, how he loved her.

Aemond continued to lick her between her thighs until they began to shake and her pussy began to contract, with one last lick he reluctantly released her and hoisted himself on top of her.

Aemond looked down, she was reduced to a mess: soaked between her thighs, wet, her juices dripping from her pussy that wanted nothing more than to be fucked. "Take me… please" she whispered arching her back, feeling his long, hard and veiny erection.

Aemond smiled excitedly, took his cock in his hand and rubbed against her. His witch queen panted, her pussy still contracting with the need to be filled. "My love" Aemond whispered sliding the pink and hard tip of his cock on her clit. "My love… I can't wait to fill you up" she whispered marrying his cock between her wet folds. "I love making love to you" Aemond whispered. "I love seeing you cry with pleasure, I love seeing you so submissive to me.. so eager for my cock" she bit her lip.

"I love it when you talk to me like that, it turns me on, husband" she whispered, opening her legs a little, feeling his cock rub against her. She gasped, unable to contain herself. It felt so good to feel that way, it felt so good… to be his. He began to fuck her, thrusts that made her move on the bed, thrusts that made her wet again and again, his cock sliding in and out rhythmically, she arched her back and aemond fucked her hungrily.

"My good girl, my witch, my sweet wifey." His tongue licked her nipple before taking it in his mouth and earning another moan from his beloved wife. Those moans made him even more excited and she between my legs felt slippery, wet, dirty from him. Her fingers still there, getting wet from her and teasing her giving her pleasure, while his cock fucked her. "Enjoy my love, take it all my love" he said between one kiss and the other. He gently took her leg bringing it to his side, she wrapped herself around his narrow waist and let herself be fucked brutally.

Aemond pushed himself into her again and again, their breathing in sync, their moans, his looks, their caresses. She lost him, he lost himself in her, they both lost themselves in those sensations that only one could give to the other. His thrusts became fast and irregular while her moans became louder. She hugged him unable to let go, inhaled his scent, I caressed his hair, kissed him with my tongue again and again unable to let go. “My love” he whispered against her lips giving her another thrust, feeling both of them close to the climax.

Aemond moaned, his hands tightened on her hips and his witch queen arched her back, feeling his hard cock touch her in a sweet spot that made her moan. his purple eye scanned every single part of his wife's pleasure-contorted face, her sweaty skin, her hair free and wild, their bodies joined "My love" he whispered continuing to push into her while moving his thumb on her clit. "Ameond… Aemond… I…" she felt herself at the peak, her pussy starting to contract, Aemond pushed into her again, took her in his arms, kissing her on the lips as she came around his cock and he, proud, emptied himself inside her filling her with his seed, making sure she took it all in every single drop.

"I love you" they whispered at the same time. "I love you, I love you, I love you" they whispered together, kissing each other as Aemond slowly pulled out from inside her, he brought a hand between his beloved's legs, caressing her and with his finger pushing inside her pussy, his seed coming out.

"You're full" he whispered, kissing her lips. "You're full of me" he whispered again, leaning down so he could rest his face on her belly. "I can't wait for her belly to swell" he whispered, kissing her. "I can't wait to fuck you and know you're pregnant with our sixth child." Aemond hugged her, bringing his arms around her body.

"Boy or girl, I'll love it" he kissed her belly. "I know you're pregnant, I never fail" he looked up and looked at her with a proud smile. "Gods my love, you're more beautiful than ever."

His witch queen brought her hand to his face, caressing his scar. "I love you Aemond, I love you with all my life." Aemond slowly rose from her body, held her in his arms and she rested her head on his shoulder. "I'll give you a child whenever you want," Aemond smiled, moving his hands to her breasts. "Gods, they'll be full soon" he whispered, teasing her nipple.

"Aemond," she whispered, feeling the pleasure rise again. "Do you want to?" he asked, lifting her onto his hips. "Mmmh…" she moaned. "And if now…" she moved a hand between their bodies, finding his cock hard again. "And if now I rode my husband as he deserves?" she whispered excitedly, her dark eyes full of desire. "For being so sure that he made me pregnant, he deserves a reward," his witch whispered, slowly moving on his hips and rising a little.

"Yes, please" he begged, letting himself be submissive. "Ride me" she let herself go down on his cock, feeling it again in her wet and dirty pussy.

“Move slowly” he whispered, bringing his hands to her hips. “Like this, like this, my love” he helped her to pick up the pace, she placed her hands on his toned chest and began to move.

Aemond groaned, his hands tightened on her body, one hand on her breasts and she chased the pleasure, moving on top of him, letting that hot dragon fire consume them. “My love, my love” Aemond whispered submissively, enjoying the body of his beloved wife on top of his. Without any fear or shyness, she rode, Aemond teased her nipple, making her shiver, he sat up and took her in his arms, kissing her lips as she came around his cock again and he filled her with his seed again.

She went against his chest, holding each other they collapsed against the bed. Still inside her, now softer, he wouldn’t let her go. As both of their breathing slowly returned to normal, they felt a small shiver run through their bodies.

"I love you," she whispered. "I love you," he replied. "And I will love our sixth little one with all my heart."

Aemond held her in his arms, his hands on her belly, caressing it. They would be parents again and for him there was no greater love than that.

[queenendless]

😷🤒Sick Day(Adult!SatoSugu x Sick!Fem!Reader)🤒😷

A/N: Yep this is part of that SatoSugu Teacher AU alongside Moving Day and Nights.

Also, announcement. I have smut writing fatigue after just putting out one and I'm down with a cold right now. So that vampire AU gang bang piece is happening next month. I'm so sorry for this yall. Thanks though to everyone who commented on that and helped me decide.

But I will hopefully be posting a JJK Halloween piece to make up for it. A headcannon/ imagined scenario where the JJK cast celebrate Halloween with my ideal fave pairings in couples costumes and such in this what if AU. And yas it gonna be SatoSugu x Fem or GN reader, idk on that part yet.

All credit for JJK and its characters goes to the madman that is Gege.

* Please DON'T plagarize, translate, or repost my FANFIC content. Reblog, like, and follow instead.

I hope you enjoy!

Your throat feels raw.

Your nose feels stuffy.

And you kept coughing every few minutes.

You should have figured spotting a curse forming from a virus epidemic happening in the hotel across the street would pose a high ass risk of getting infected yourself.

But as a Window, it was your job, as life risking as it was.

The more people inside and around the building got infected, the Grade 4 grew closer to Grade 3. If it kept up, dozens upon hundreds would die.

"Ijichi-san. Disease curse. Transitioning from Grade 4 to Grade 3. Requesting sorcerer help here immediately." You struggled speaking over the phone as you kept coughing, dispatching the address to him, seeing the revolting curse grow in size as its toxic presence spilled, tripping as you tried keeping your distance.

Your head was pounding and you could barely focus as Ijichi-san panicked on his end.

"L/n-san!? L/N-SAN!"

In a moment of ailment, you dropped your phone, causing it to disconnect from the impact.

You were barely able to keep a grip on your phone or walk without faltering as you felt more drained with each passing moment. You blinked a lot as you tried staying alert, stumbling before collapsing against a parked empty vehicle on the street, sliding down to your bum just to rest your aching head against your knees, hugging your legs to your chest.

That curse's smogs began spreading down the streets, into traffic, and nearby occupied establishments.

Believing help wouldn't get here in time through the systematic process, you opted for your wild card, shakily picking up your now cracked screen device.

"Toru. Curse problem. Get here ASAP. Please." Texting the address in your feverish haste, you pressed send before curling in on yourself, welcoming sleep to rest your aching self.

In just under the next few minutes — more like moments — you felt a boom in the cursed energy atmosphere, that curse no longer being sensed. At last, it was done.

The shift from freezing metal to cozy soft fabric stirred you awake a bit. Along with the feel of solid warm arms draped around your shoulders and under your knees. Those big smooth hands squeezing your shoulder and your kneecap had you tugging weakly on the front of that top, pressing your face against your makeshift pillow, struggling to open your eyes as your hearing painted the picture for you in the meantime.

"A majority will spend weeks recuperating. The ones closest to the cause will spend months in the hospital at best. Still though, no casualties. Thank you for the help." High chances it was one of the many medics on site for post cleanup.

"You can thank the young woman here for that. She was the first responder, after all. I'll tend to her recovery myself. Sayonara." You know that voice right away, even when he was muffled, relaxing further in his hold.

"This cold isn't going away anytime soon. Too bad reversed cursed techniques don't make the common cold go away." Your half lidded eyes still had him swooning at how frail and precious you were in his arms.

You murmured, noticing him in his black long sleeved top, matching sweatpants, and face mask with the blindfold. "Blindfolded giant." That's when you realized a face mask was put on you as well, your muffled coughs hitting cloth.

You could already picture him beaming, grinning, as he laughed a bit.

"Correction. Your blindfolded giant, darling~ Now then, let's get you home."

°•○•°•○•°•○•°

Geto typing away on his computer, working on his latest reports.

Gojo straddling his lap, hugging him as he napped against his dear best friend slash hubbie.

The former smiling fondly at the motion before picking up where he left off was their situation before both men's phones began vibrating and ringing.

"Geto-san! L/n-san has reported a disease curse spotting! But she was cut off before I could get further details!"

"She just texted me the location." The sleepiness was wiped away, replaced with firm seriousness, as Gojo started getting off of him to get some shoes on.

"Ijichi-san, do not fret. Satoru will handle the curse." Geto calmly responded over the phone before speaking concerningly to his snowy-haired hubbie. "Toru, bring a face mask in case the affected area reaches where you land post teleport."

Said man smooched his hubbie in kind before slipping on the black face mask to match his current apparel. "Wait up for us, Sugu~"

Seeing you both back, teleporting into your home office, Suguru smooched Satoru the moment he took that face mask right off. Pressing the back of his palm against your forehead to double check for a fever, Suguru's dismay was warranted.

So being there when you awoke from your fever dream tucked in the middle of your guys' giant bed meant Suguru patting your now sweating forehead with a wet rag, you trembling from chills raking your skin followed by feeling warmer the next minute as you coughed into a tissue he handed to you.

"Well dearest, you've got yourself a nasty cold here." Suguru noted with a gray face mask on as well, seated by you on his side of the bed.

"Ah bah." Your raspy spat earned you a cough into your fist before you were offered a filled up water bottle by Satoru who was sitting behind you on his side; blindfold off but face mask back on.

"Welp, I exorcized the curse and brought your cute self back here. Plus I got that report to work on in your precious stead. So you're welcome." He gently ran his fingers through your hair to ease you in whatever way he could.

"Thank you Toru." You slowly sat up and were then handed some cold pills by Suguru to down some water with. "Thank you Sugu."

"Now that we've made our home Ground Zero, you are hereby confined to this room. Drink plenty of fluids. Take your medicine. Get lots of rest. Do you hear me, young lady?" Suguru's smart ass tone made you pout.

"Yes mom." You murmured raspy.

Satoru snorted behind his face mask to which Suguru whacked him in the shoulder across from him with narrowed eyes. "At least Megumi and the twins are living in the dorms now and Tsumiki was able to convince her classmate to stay at her place for a while. Meaning we three have the place to ourselves~"

"Does that mean … I have to sleep by myself?" You whimpered, cracking their resolve. "Neither the Gojo Geto bears, nor the Gojo Geto cats, not even the Gojo Geto giant round plushies can substitute for the real deal." You moped, pointing at said custom made toys lined up on the window seat on the far side of the room.

"Aww, Suguru, how can we deny our lovely sweetheart the company of her valiant handsome knights in the flesh, huh~!?" Satoru dramatized his own cries, muffled though.

Suguru sighed, consigning. "At least one of us should. Who else will be teaching the first years in the meantime?"

"Round robin, then? Last one left standing tends to that noble martyr and gets our dear sweetheart to be their own personal nurse in the end … huh …" That hum and those inquiring eyes could only bode mischief. "I volunteer Suguru to go first!"

"Not gonna happen, Satoru." He immediately denied.

"But to be fed by, bathed by and be doted on by our angel is heaven sent~!" Satoru gushed.

"Which is why you shouldn't be the only one getting that special treatment!" Suguru being jealous at possibly being left out on that.

"Hey!" Your strained shout ends in a coughing fit, curled up in bed, sniffling to which Suguru hands you a big enough tissue to blow your nose in. "I'm dying here."

"Hmm … Yu could fill in." Satoru suggested.

"He is working as a teaching aid part time. And he did say he could help out whenever we needed it." Suguru added.

"Plus Nanamin is on a business trip for the week~ He'll need something to do while waiting for his beloved's return~!" Satoru teased.

"That settles it then." Suguru was smirking behind that mask, you could just tell.

"How lucky you are, darling, to have the strongest duo be your own personal nurses~" Satoru was so smirking his ass off.

"Even though you'll literally get sick of me?" You shyly asked, squeezing your bottle, apprehensive.

"We have strong ass immune systems, Y/n. Comes with over a decade of immense training." Satoru prided on, kissing your flushed cheek.

"If we can risk ourselves in the face of death as sorcerers, this is nothing." Suguru assured, kissing your other flushed cheek. "I'll call Haibara."

"I'll start up a bath for us all. Thank you big ass bathtubs." Satoru clapped to that.

"What do I do?" Even when sick, tilting your head and batting those eyes made the duo smooch your lips at once.

"Just be a good little patient for us, alright, honey?" God that wink of Suguru's left you more hot than usual as he walked off to make that call.

"Besides, being sick with you means being granted a sick leave and getting paid for it! Ah, thank you, my darling sweetheart~!" Satoru did hug you, nuzzle his face in your hair, and left you a wheezing mess.

"Y - You're w - welcome!"

Well, on the bright side, at least you'll all be sick together.

Snuggled in bed, among discarded tissues, wrappers of cough drops, and smooshed in one big embrace of entangled limbs while binging nothing but sitcoms, movies, and anime.

You would eventually get better in a week's time then later tend to your two enamored, affectionate partners and get them back into tip top shape.

But until then, being in their cozy arms, sleeping smack dabbed in between them, that might as well be the key on your quick road to recovery.

The SatoSugu cure, indeed!

[gyuuberryy]

ni-ki's guide to survival: how getting lost led to love

pairing: enemy!niki x reader

synopsis: you would’ve never agreed to go on this camping trip with your friends if you had known you would get paired up with your arch nemesis. and getting lost on top of that? with the said bane of your existence? that was definitely not on your agenda.

genre: enemies to lovers, camping au, humour, comfort, little bit of angst

warnings: mentions of panic attack, bugs, kissing

note: they’re all college students btw! i had a really bad riki brainrot and i love e2l so this fic was birthed hehe

word count: 5.3k

if you liked it please reblog or comment to give me your feedback! <3

the campfire crackled merrily, casting flickering shadows on the faces of your friends huddled around it. laughter danced in the air, punctuated by the occasional chirp of a cricket. 

everyone except you and the boy sprawled on a log opposite you, a scowl permanently etched on his face. nishimura ni-ki. 

camping trips with your friends were supposed to be fun, a chance to unwind, but with your nemesis by your side, it felt more like a forced march into enemy territory.

the animosity has started innocently enough. you and ni-ki, along with your friends, had embarked on a beach trip determined to build the most epic sandcastle the world had ever seen. hours were poured into sculpting elaborate moats, towering turrets, and intricate sand sculptures. victory was within reach, your masterpiece nearing completion, when disaster struck. a rogue wave, rolled in, obliterating your creation in a single, foamy swipe.

grief turned to rage, and you, fueled by a sugar crash from a previously consumed ice cream cone, pointed the finger of blame at ni-ki. you claimed he'd jinxed the project with his "terrible sandcastle feng shui." ni-ki, ever the provocateur, countered that your "overly ambitious moat design" was structurally unsound. the blame game escalated, escalating into a full-blown sand throwing fight that left everyone covered in a gritty mix of sand and saltwater.

two years later, the incident remained a running joke within your friend group. the mere mention of "sandcastle feng shui" could send you both into a fit of giggles (or, depending on the day, simmering resentment which happened to be today). 

a mischievous grin spread across sunoo's face, the self-proclaimed "king of fun." "alright everyone, time for the foraging challenge!" he announced, pulling a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket. "i've paired you all up to go gather ingredients for our stew!"

a collective groan arose, except from sunoo and heeseung, who were already whispering excitedly about wild herbs. the paper crackled in sunoo's hands as he unfolded it dramatically.

you perked up, eager to escape the suffocating tension between you and ni-ki. maybe a solo scavenging mission wouldn't be so bad. but as sunoo started assigning pairs, your stomach lurched.

"since we have an even number, the last team will be..." sunoo scanned the group, his eyes landing on you and ni-ki. a mischievous glint sparked in them. "...together."

a collective gasp arose from your friends, a mix of amusement and pity for your predicament. ni-ki, however, didn't miss a beat. he shot you a smug smirk, his eyes gleaming with a challenge.

"great," you muttered, sarcasm dripping from your voice. "just what i always wanted, a foraging partner with the survival instincts of a goldfish."

ni-ki scoffed. "says the one who gets lost in a grocery store."

memories of that disastrous shopping trip with your mom flooded your mind. you gritted your teeth.

"at least i won't accidentally set the forest on fire trying to light a campfire," you retorted, referencing a camping trip gone slightly wrong from a year back.

ni-ki's smirk faltered for a split second, a flicker of annoyance crossing his features before returning full force. "unlike you, i actually know how to tell an edible plant from a poisonous one."

"oh please, spare me the mr. nature act," you shot back, standing up and grabbing your backpack. "let's just get this over with. before you scare away all the edible plants with your bad attitude."

ni-ki rose from his log with a mocking bow. "after you, princess."

you rolled your eyes, the familiar bickering a bitter comfort in this unwelcome alliance. as you walked past your friends, you heard sunghoon mutter under his breath, "may the odds be ever in your favour." you shot him a glare, wishing for nothing more than to prove him wrong. 

the forest stretched out before you, promising a foraging adventure filled with snarky remarks, petty competition, and maybe, just maybe, a grudging respect for your unlikely partner.

the trail wound deeper into the woods, dappled sunlight filtering through the leaves overhead. the air grew thick with unspoken words, the silence punctuated only by the crunch of twigs underfoot and the occasional chirp of a bird.

"shouldn't you be skipping ahead, searching for your precious berries?" you finally snapped, unable to bear the awkward tension any longer.

"only if you promise not to poison yourself with the first wild mushroom you find, pipsqueak," ni-ki retorted, a playful glint in his eyes.

you scoffed, rolling your eyes. "at least i can tell the difference between food and foliage."

just then, you skidded to a halt, hand flying up to point. "look!"

ni-ki nearly bumped into you, surprised by your sudden stop. he followed your gaze and spotted a fawn grazing a few metres off the trail. its large, innocent eyes looked back at them curiously.

a genuine smile, devoid of their usual antagonism, softened ni-ki’s features. "aww, isn't that cute?"

"hold that thought," you whispered, excitement bubbling in your chest. you fumbled with your phone, eager to capture the adorable creature on camera.

ni-ki chuckled, a hint of amusement in his voice. "don't take all day. we're not exactly bffs on a nature walk here."

you stuck your tongue out at him playfully, focusing on getting the perfect shot. suddenly, a bloodcurdling shriek tore from your throat.

ni-ki whipped around, heart hammering in his chest. he saw you flailing your arms wildly, phone clattering to the ground. without a second thought, he sprinted towards you, fear momentarily overriding his usual animosity.

"what happened?" he gasped, skidding to a halt beside you.

"b-bug!" you stammered, pointing at a nearby leaf. "giant, horrible bug!"

ni-ki followed your shaky finger and let out a snort of laughter. perched on the leaf was a large beetle, no doubt intimidating to someone with a bug phobia, but far from the monstrous nightmare you'd made it out to be.

"seriously, that's it?" he doubled over, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes. "you screamed like a banshee over a little beetle?"

you glared at him, cheeks burning with a mixture of embarrassment and lingering fear. "it was huge! and it tried to bite me!"

ignoring your protests, ni-ki sauntered over to the leaf, his amusement evident. he poked the beetle with a stick, earning a disgruntled hiss in response.

suddenly, his laughter died in his throat. the seemingly harmless beetle, disturbed by his prodding, lunged at him with surprising speed. he yelped, leaping back with a comical yelp, tripping spectacularly over a protruding root in the process.

the force of his fall sent him tumbling backwards, straight into you. with a startled cry, you lost your footing and the two of you went careening down a steep slope, a tangled mess of limbs and flying leaves.

the world became a blur of green and brown before you landed with a thud in a small clearing at the bottom. you groaned, blinking away spots as you sat up, taking stock of your surroundings. ni-ki lay sprawled a few feet away, groaning dramatically.

"well, this is just great," you muttered, brushing dirt off your clothes. you glanced at ni-ki, a flicker of amusement tugging at the corners of your lips despite the throbbing pain in your arm.

he sat up slowly, sheepish grin replacing his earlier smirk. "looks like we both owe that little beetle an apology, huh?"

the amusement in your eyes quickly morphed into pure exasperation as reality settled into you. you had no clue where you were. 

"are you kidding me, nishimura?!" you suddenly yelled, throwing your hands up in the air. "you tripped us both over a bug! how clumsy can you possibly get?"

said boy winced at your outburst, the playful glint in his eyes fading. "hey, it wasn't exactly graceful," he mumbled, dusting himself off. "but at least we're not hurt, right?"

"not hurt? we just tumbled down a freaking hill! and for what? because you couldn't resist poking a bug with a stick?"

"alright, alright," he placatingly raised his hands. "let's just calm down. the good news is, i can recognise this part of the woods. we should be able to find our way back to the trail pretty easily."

you eyed him sceptically. "how can you possibly be sure? this whole forest looks the same!"

he puffed out his chest, a hint of his usual arrogance returning. "trust me, pipsqueak. i have a good sense of direction. just follow me."

you gritted your teeth, the anger simmering just beneath the surface. given the choice, you wouldn't have trusted a lost puppy to lead you back, let alone your nemesis with a questionable sense of direction. however, with no other options, you reluctantly trailed behind him.

minutes turned into what felt like hours. the scenery seemed to repeat itself endlessly, a maze of identical trees and sun-dappled paths. panic started to gnaw at your insides.

"nishimura," you said through gritted teeth, "are we sure we're not going in circles?"

he stopped abruptly, a frown etching his face. he pulled out his phone, his expression darkening as he stared at the screen. "damn it. no signal."

your blood ran cold. "what do you mean no signal?"

"there's no cell reception out here," he admitted sheepishly. "i guess i was wrong about knowing the way back."

you stared at him, incredulous. "you got us lost, and now we can't even call for help? you are the most irresponsible person i've ever met!"

he held up his hands defensively. "whoa, hey! it was an accident! we'll figure something out, okay? just calm down."

but calm was the last thing you felt. lost, angry, and scared, you glared at ni-ki, a fierce determination replacing the fear. "we will figure this out," you declared, voice shaking with repressed anger. "but for now, shut up and follow me. maybe i have a better sense of direction than you think."

the forest floor crunched under your feet as you marched ahead, a newfound resolve hardening your features. gone was the bickering banter, replaced by a tense silence punctuated only by the occasional rustle of leaves in the breeze. ni-ki followed close behind, a sheepish silence replacing his usual bravado.

you scanned the surroundings, searching for any landmark, any sign that might lead you back to the familiar trail. the dense foliage seemed to mock your efforts, the towering trees offering no clues in their uniformity. doubt gnawed at the edges of your determination, but the thought of relying on ni-ki was far worse.

"we need to find higher ground," you finally muttered, remembering a survival tip you'd once read. "maybe we can get a better view from up there."

ni-ki nodded curtly, his earlier arrogance replaced by a hint of worry. together, you pushed through the undergrowth, searching for any sign of an incline. after what felt like an eternity, you stumbled upon a rocky outcrop, its jagged surface a stark contrast to the smooth earth around it.

scrambling up the rocks, you emerged onto a small, uneven plateau. taking a deep breath, you scanned the horizon, hoping for a glimpse of the familiar smoke plume rising from the campsite. but all you saw was a seemingly endless expanse of green, the trees blurring together in a dizzying kaleidoscope.

disappointment crashed over you, heavy and suffocating. you slumped down onto a smooth rock, the anger slowly draining away, leaving behind a cold dread. lost, with no way to contact anyone, a shiver ran down your spine despite the warm afternoon sun.

"great," you muttered, voice devoid of its earlier fire. "just brilliant."

a moment of heavy silence passed before ni-ki spoke, his voice uncharacteristically subdued. "look, i messed up, okay? i should have paid more attention, and i shouldn't have been so cocky."

you didn't respond, staring blankly at the endless sea of trees.

he continued, his voice softer now. "but freaking out isn't going to help us. we need to work together on this."

he was right, of course. but the idea of trusting him after his colossal blunder left a bitter taste in your mouth. yet, there were no other options.

with a sigh, you finally met his gaze. "fine," you conceded grudgingly. "but if we ever get out of this, i'm never letting you live this down."

a flicker of a smile played on his lips, a hint of his usual defiance returning. "deal. now, how about we put our survival skills to the test, pipsqueak? together."

the animosity was still there, simmering just beneath the surface. but in the face of you predicament, a fragile truce had been formed. you weren't friends, not by a long shot. but for now, you were stuck with each other, and survival depended on a begrudging cooperation.

as the golden light of the afternoon began to fade, long shadows stretched across the forest floor, deepening the gloom beneath the dense canopy. the chirping of birds had been replaced by the eerie calls of nocturnal creatures, sending shivers down your spine.

the initial anger you felt towards ni-ki had morphed into a gnawing fear. the realisation that you were truly lost, with no way to contact anyone, settled in your stomach like a lead weight.

your breaths came in ragged gasps, the realisation of your situation finally hitting you with full force.

tears welled up in your eyes, blurring your vision. a choked sob escaped your lips, quickly escalating into a full-blown panic attack. hyperventilating, you clutched your chest, the world seeming to shrink around you.

suddenly, a hand landed gently on your shoulder. you flinched, expecting another snarky remark from ni-ki. but instead, his voice was soft, laced with concern.

"hey, hey," he soothed, his hand moving to wipe away a stray tear that traced its way down your cheek. "it's okay. we'll be alright."

his touch, surprisingly gentle, sent a jolt through you. you were so used to your constant sparring that this sudden tenderness was completely disarming.

"we just need to calm down," he continued, his voice low and calming. "we can't think clearly if you're panicking. look at me."

hesitantly, you met his gaze. his eyes, usually sparkling with mischief, were now filled with a genuine concern you hadn't seen before.

"we'll find our way back," he promised, his voice firm but reassuring. "the sun will rise again in the morning, and with daylight, everything will seem clearer. we'll figure out a plan then."

his words, surprisingly, had a calming effect. you took a deep, shaky breath, forcing yourself to focus on the rhythm of your inhalations and exhalations. slowly, the panic began to recede, leaving you drained but a little hopeful.

together, you searched for a suitable spot. you found it nestled under the sprawling branches of an ancient oak, its thick trunk offering a sense of security. the ground beneath it was clear of debris, providing a relatively comfortable place to sit.

ni-ki helped you gather fallen leaves and twigs, creating a makeshift cushion. you settled onto it, your body trembling slightly despite the warmth of the setting sun.

he sat down beside you, a respectful distance separating your bodies. the air crackled with an awkward silence, a stark contrast to your earlier bickering.

"thank you," you finally whispered, surprised by the words leaving your lips.

he offered a small smile. "for what?"

"for...not being a jerk," you mumbled, embarrassed.

he chuckled softly, a sound devoid of mockery. "seems like we both have to learn to cooperate sometimes, pipsqueak."

you couldn't help but let out a weak smile, a small flicker of warmth returning to your chest. maybe, just maybe, there was a sliver of humanity beneath ni-ki's cocky exterior. as the last rays of sunlight dipped below the horizon, plunging the forest into darkness, you leaned back against the rough bark of the oak, a strange sense of calm washing over you. 

you weren't friends, not by a long shot. but for now, in the face of the unknown, you had each other. and perhaps, just perhaps, this forced cooperation might lead to something more, something you weren't quite ready to name.

the forest floor was a tapestry of inky black shadows under the cloak of night. the initial panic had subsided, replaced by a gnawing hunger that rumbled in your stomach. you glanced at the pile of foraged mushrooms and roots nestled beside you, a meagre dinner at best.

"so," ni-ki drawled, his voice barely a whisper in the stillness. "any idea how to build a fire with those twigs?"

you scoffed. "as if you could tell a pinecone from a pile of leaves."

he shot you a mock glare. "says the one who screamed at a beetle."

you swatted his arm playfully, surprised at the almost friendly gesture. "alright, alright. i may have overreacted a bit."

a flicker of amusement danced in his eyes. "a bit? pip squeak, you practically launched yourself into orbit."

despite the teasing, a small smile tugged at the corner of your lips. you fumbled with the meagre tinder you'd gathered, frustration building. just as you were about to give up, a gentle hand reached for yours.

"here," he murmured, taking the twigs from your grasp. "let me show you."

with surprising dexterity, he built a small, precarious structure of leaves and twigs. you watched in fascination as he coaxed a spark from a flint and steel you hadn't even noticed him carrying. soon, a tiny flame flickered to life, growing steadily into a small but comforting fire.

a sense of peace, however fragile, settled between you as you roasted the meagre mushrooms and roots over the flames. the silence wasn't antagonistic anymore, filled instead with the crackling fire and the occasional chirping of crickets.

"so," you started hesitantly, "what made you decide to learn survival skills?"

he shrugged, poking a particularly stubborn mushroom with a stick. "always good to be prepared, you know? never know when you might end up stranded in the middle of nowhere with a drama queen for company."

you threw a playful punch at his arm, the sting of your earlier animosity fading. "hey, at least i don't trip over bugs."

he chuckled, the sound surprisingly warm. "touché, pipsqueak."

as you ate your dinner, you found yourself stealing glances at him. in the flickering firelight, his face seemed softer, less arrogant. you realised with a jolt that his presence, although unexpected, wasn't actually that bad. maybe this forced cooperation was revealing a side of ni-ki you hadn't seen before.

the night wore on, the stars twinkling coldly above. the fire had long since died, leaving behind a fading warmth that couldn't compete with the growing chill. you shifted uncomfortably, the hard ground digging into your back. a shiver wracked your body, the thin jacket doing little to ward off the creeping cold.

out of the corner of your eye, you saw ni-ki shift too, his shoulders slumped against the tree. he let out a barely audible sigh, his breath misting in the cool air.

neither of you spoke, but a silent understanding hung in the air. you were both miserable, the bitter taste of rivalry a distant memory compared to the immediate need for warmth.

with a hesitant movement, you inched closer to the tree trunk, hoping to find a slightly more comfortable position. almost imperceptibly, ni-ki did the same. your shoulders brushed, a jolt of surprise shooting through you. he didn't move away, and after a moment, you leaned in slightly, seeking a sliver of shared warmth.

his arm was close now, separated by only the thin layer of your jacket. you stole a glance at him, expecting a sarcastic remark or a playful jab. but his eyes were closed, his face etched with fatigue.

hesitantly, you reached out, stopping just before your hand touched his arm. he stirred slightly, a low murmur escaping his lips. taking a deep breath, you rested your hand lightly against the worn fabric of his jacket, just below his elbow.

he didn't flinch. instead, he seemed to relax a fraction more, his arm moving ever so slightly to brush against yours.

in the silence broken only by the rustle of leaves and the occasional hoot of an owl, you found a strange comfort. maybe it was the shared misery of the situation, maybe it was the unexpected friendly(?) atmosphere that had sprung up between you. whatever it was, the tension had melted away, replaced by a fragile sense of trust.

sleep claimed you slowly, the warmth of your shared body heat a welcome haven against the encroaching chill. you didn't fall asleep with the intention of being close, but in the quiet intimacy of the night, you found a solace you hadn't expected. as you drifted off, a single thought flickered through your mind: maybe this forced adventure wouldn't be so bad after all.

the first sliver of sunlight, faint and tentative, peeked through the dense canopy, painting delicate stripes across ni-ki's eyelids. he stirred, a low groan escaping his lips as the ache in his back made itself known. he cracked one eye open, then the other, blinking against the sudden brightness.

his breath hitched. you were nestled against him, your head resting on his chest. your arms were wrapped tightly around him, one hand burrowed into the thin fabric of his shirt. his chin rested on the crown of your head, his heart hammering a frantic rhythm against his ribs.

he had absolutely no memory of this happening. had you gotten cold in the night and sought his warmth instinctively? the thought sent a warmth of its own blooming in his chest, a warmth at odds with the chill of the morning air. he was utterly captivated. you looked peaceful, your normally sharp features softened in sleep, a light dusting of pink staining your cheeks.

just as he was about to lose himself in the unexpected sight, your eyes fluttered open. they met his gaze, and a slow, mischievous smile spread across your face.

"good morning, sleepyhead," you murmured, your voice thick with sleep.

ni-ki's cheeks flushed crimson. "m-morning," he stammered, his voice rough from disuse. he tried to disentangle himself from your hold, feeling ridiculously flustered by your closeness.

"nope," you declared playfully, tightening your grip. "this is actually really comfortable. don't move."

he froze, his cheeks burning hotter than ever. his mind raced, torn between wanting to maintain this unexpected closeness and wanting to bolt. a small chuckle escaped your lips, the sound vibrating against his chest.

"relax, drama king," you said, your voice soft. "we're not exactly cuddling in a meadow filled with daisies."

he couldn't help but let out a small laugh himself. the tension started to ease, replaced by a warmth that had nothing to do with the rising sun. slowly, he re-wrapped his arm around you, drawing you closer.

"fine," he conceded, feigning annoyance. "but don't think this changes anything, pipsqueak."

you threw your head back and laughed, a bright, genuine sound that echoed through the silent forest. "of course not, ni-ki," you replied, your voice playful. "we're still enemies, remember?"

"enemies who share a surprisingly comfortable tree," he countered, his gaze flickering to the way your hand instinctively rested on his arm.

"so," you said after a moment of comfortable silence, "how do you propose we get ourselves out of this mess?"

the playful mood evaporated as the reality of their situation came flooding back. he cleared his throat, forcing himself to focus. "we need to find a landmark, something we remember from the trail. maybe a creek, or a distinctive rock formation. then we can work our way back from there."

you hummed in agreement, your head nuzzling deeper into his chest. "alright, well, let's not get up just yet. it's still pretty cold out here."

a small smile tugged at ni-ki's lips. this unexpected closeness, born out of necessity, felt strangely…nice. he wasn't sure what the future held, or if this forced truce would last beyond getting back to camp, but for now, in the quiet intimacy of the morning, he wouldn't trade this for anything. "yeah," he agreed, feeling a warmth spread through him that had nothing to do with the rising sun. "let's stay here just a little while longer."

the forest around you both remained cloaked in a pre-dawn twilight, but the horizon was ablaze with the promise of a new day. streaks of fiery orange and vibrant pink bled into the inky blue sky, painting a breathtaking canvas above the silent trees. you couldn't help but let out a soft gasp of awe, the discomfort of the hard ground momentarily forgotten.

ni-ki glanced down at you, his gaze lingering on the way your eyes sparkled in the soft light. "beautiful, isn't it?" he murmured, his voice barely a whisper.

you nodded, mesmerised by the vibrant display of colours. "it's incredible," you breathed.

a comfortable silence settled between you, the only sounds the gentle rustle of leaves and the chirping of a few early birds. despite the awkwardness of your situation, a strange sense of peace washed over you. ni-ki, with his arm still loosely wrapped around you, seemed less arrogant in the morning light, a hint of vulnerability softening his features.

as the sun climbed higher, painting the leaves in a warm golden glow, you tore your gaze away from the sky. "alright," you announced, a newfound determination in your voice. "let's get serious about finding our way back."

ni-ki mirrored your seriousness. "right. we need to focus." he sat up straight, his gaze scanning the surrounding area. "do you remember anything about the trail? a specific tree, maybe, or a turn-off?"

you wracked your brain, a memory flickering to life. "there was a large, twisted oak tree on the right side of the trail, just before a steep downhill slope. maybe if we can find that..."

"bingo!" ni-ki exclaimed, a grin splitting his face. "i remember that tree too! it was kind of gnarled and had these weird, knobbly branches."

relief flooded your chest. "okay, so let's head east. the sun should be rising in the east, right?"

ni-ki nodded, pulling out the compass he'd managed to find tucked away in a pocket of his backpack. "yeah, the sun should be roughly in the east at this time." he consulted the compass for a moment, then pointed in a direction. "alright, this way."

together, you rose to your feet, your muscles protesting slightly after a night spent on the cold ground. but the prospect of finding your way back to your friends fuelled your movements. you followed the direction ni-ki indicated, carefully navigating the trees, your eyes peeled for any sign of the twisted oak.

the forest seemed less menacing in the bright morning light. you pointed out landmarks – a fallen log, a clump of brightly coloured mushrooms – hoping they might jog ni-ki's memory. he, in turn, shared his knowledge of edible plants and tracking techniques, a surprising wellspring of information hidden beneath his usual cocky exterior.

after what felt like an eternity, your heart leaped into your throat. there, standing defiant against the backdrop of younger trees, was the twisted oak you remembered. you let out a whoop of joy, a sound that echoed through the silent trees.

ni-ki's face mirrored your elation, a genuine smile gracing his features.

relief and a strange sense of accomplishment washed over you. you had faced your fear, survived the night, and most importantly, worked together. maybe, just maybe, this experience would change your dynamic with ni-ki, adding a layer of respect and perhaps a touch of something more.

the familiar path leading back to the campsite emerged from the trees, a beacon of hope and relief. a surge of exhilaration coursed through you. you had made it! without thinking, you spun towards ni-ki, a wide grin splitting your face.

"we did it!" you exclaimed, reaching out impulsively. your fingers grazed his cheek, sending a jolt through you. fuelled by the adrenaline of the moment, and perhaps the lingering intimacy of the night, you leaned in further, your lips brushing against his in a sudden, unexpected kiss.

the world seemed to shrink to just the two of you. time slowed, the sound of the forest fading away. but the kiss was short-lived. ni-ki froze, his eyes widening in surprise. he gently pushed you away, his breath hitching.

"whoa," he stammered, his voice laced with confusion. "what was that?"

you stumbled back, cheeks burning with embarrassment. your mind raced, replaying the past few seconds in a humiliating loop. what had you just done? the audacity of your own actions left you speechless.

"i-i..." you stammered, searching for an explanation that wouldn't sound completely insane. "i'm just...so relieved we're back. thank you for helping me, ni-ki." the words sounded lame even to your own ears.

but before you could retreat any further, ni-ki surprised you again. his hand shot out, grabbing you firmly by the waist and pulling you back towards him. this time, there was no hesitation in his eyes. he leaned in, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that was anything but hesitant.

you melted against him, all thoughts of embarrassment melting away in the heat of the moment. you responded instinctively, your arms wrapping around his neck as you deepened the kiss. the forest around you faded away, the only sound the frantic thudding of your own heart.

finally, ni-ki pulled away, his breath ragged. his eyes, usually so sharp and playful, were now a warm brown, flecked with gold in the morning sunlight. a slow smile spread across his face, a genuine, unguarded smile that sent a flutter to your stomach.

"wow," he breathed, his voice husky. "that was..." he trailed off, searching for the right words.

you swallowed, your own voice barely a whisper. "unexpected?"

he chuckled, a low rumble that sent shivers down your spine. "unexpected is definitely one word for it." he paused, his gaze holding yours. "but not unwelcome."

the sound of distant shouts jolted you both back to reality. a chorus of voices, laced with worry and relief, echoed through the trees. you pulled away from ni-ki, suddenly acutely aware of your dishevelled state and the way his lips tingled where yours had been.

"there you two are!" heeseung's voice cut through the trees as he emerged from the path, followed by your other friends. relief washed over their faces, quickly replaced by a flurry of questions and concerned chatter.

"we were starting to think you got eaten by a bear!" sunoo exclaimed, his eyes wide.

you launched into a rapid-fire explanation of your ordeal, leaving out the very recent, and frankly, earth-shattering development with ni-ki. your friends listened intently, bombarding you with questions about the night and how you managed to find your way back.

through it all, you were hyper aware of ni-ki standing beside you. he chimed in occasionally, his voice oddly subdued, and you could steal glances at him, catching the hint of a smile playing on his lips.

then, as you finished your story, jake nudged you playfully. "wow, you guys must have been really scared out there all night. scared enough to, i don't know, eat each other's faces off?"

a collective gasp went up from your friends, their eyes darting between you and ni-ki. your cheeks burned crimson. "what? no!" you sputtered, flustered.

ni-ki chuckled, a low sound that sent shivers down your spine. "yeah, jake," he drawled, his voice teasing. "luckily for us, bears were the only thing on the menu last night."

his playful jab sent another wave of heat flooding your face. you stole a glance at him, and your breath caught in your throat. he was looking at you, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes, but there was something else there too, something warm and unguarded that made your heart skip a beat.

you looked away quickly, a shy smile tugging at your lips. maybe this unexpected turn of events wasn't so bad after all.

𝗰𝗼𝗽𝘆𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 ©𝗴𝘆𝘂𝘂𝗯𝗲𝗿𝗿𝘆𝘆 on Tumblr

˚ · .𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝘀 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗲𝗿𝘃𝗲𝗱

[cutielando]

Hi!! I just found your account and love it! I was wondering if I could request either a Charles or Max imagine where the reader is a well known voice actor?

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disneystudios & yourusername We are proud to announce that Y/N Y/L/N has joined the cast of Inside Out as the voice of Joy!

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[satellite-evans]

Familiar Echoes

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x reader

Summary: When Y/N, the daughter of the duke of Ashbourne returns to Aubrey Hall, old feelings resurface between her and Benedict Bridgerton, sparking tension and intrigue. As they navigate past misunderstandings with the support of their families, they must confront their emotions and decide if their childhood bond can evolve into something more.

Word count: 4.7k words

Warnings: fluff, a little angst, mention of nude models, childhood friends, misunderstanding

A/N:

Hi everyone, this is my first Benedict fic so I am very excited, hope you guys will like it :)

English is not my first language, so I apologize if I made any (grammar) mistakes. Feedback, requests, recommendations, vents or questions are always welcome. I love talking to you guys about anything <3

Happy reading xxx

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site.

The sun cast a warm, golden glow over Aubrey Hall, its rays filtering through the trees and illuminating the vibrant gardens where the Bridgerton children played. Benedict Bridgerton, with his dark curls and inquisitive eyes, was only ten years old, yet he was already showing signs of the artistic and passionate young man he would become.

In the gardens, Benedict was engrossed in a spirited game of hide-and-seek with his siblings and their dear friends, the Y/L/Ns. The daughter of the Duke of Ashbourne, Y/N, was Benedict’s favorite playmate. Her laughter was his favorite and her eyes mirrored something so beautiful, so pure.

Benedict, you’ll never find me!” Y/N called out, her voice echoing through the hedges.

He grinned, determined to prove his best friend wrong. They had spent countless afternoons exploring the grounds, creating imaginary worlds, and sharing secrets that only they understood.

Finally, he spotted her hiding behind a rosebush. “Got you!” he exclaimed, grabbing her hand and twirling her around.

She laughed, her joy infectious. “You always find me, Benedict.”

He smiled, a blush creeping up his cheeks. “I’ll always find you, Y/N.”

But the idyllic days of childhood were not to last. That evening, over dinner, the Duke of Ashbourne announced that his family would be leaving London for an extended stay in Italy. The news hit Benedict like a blow, and he struggled to hide his disappointment. He looked over at his friend and saw those same pure eyes filling up with tears. It broke his tiny heart into pieces.

“Leave London? Whatever for?”

Benedict was thrilled that his mother asked because he desperately needed to know why they had to leave.

“We have decided it is time to show our children the world. My father took me on similar journeys when I was their age, and those experiences were invaluable. I want Thomas and Y/N to have the same opportunities—to see different places, learn new things, and broaden their horizons.”

Your mother nodded in agreement, her expression resolute. “We believe it will be good for their education. There’s so much to learn beyond the walls of London, and we want to give them a chance to explore and grow in ways they cannot here.”

Violet glanced at the Viscount, her husband Edmund, who had been listening quietly. He smiled and nodded, understanding the importance of such a decision. “I agree with you, William,” he said to your father. “Traveling and experiencing different cultures can provide a wealth of knowledge and perspective that one simply cannot gain from books alone.”

Thomas, your older brother, seemed very excited about the upcoming adventure.

But Y/N did not.

She was thinking all about how terribly she was going to miss her dear friend Benedict and how awful it was going to be, not to be in his presence all the time.

After dinner, Benedict found Y/N in the music room, softly playing the pianoforte. He approached her, his heart heavy.

“Why do you have to go?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Y/N looked up, her eyes filled with sadness. “Father believes it’s for the best. He wants us to experience life. He also mentioned that we will also visit Greece and many more."

“But what about us? What about our adventures?” Benedict’s voice cracked with emotion.

She reached out, taking his hand in hers. “We’ll always have our memories, Benedict. And we’ll see each other again. I promise.”

Benedict squeezed her hand, trying to hold back tears. “Promise?”

“Promise,” she echoed, her voice firm despite the tears in her eyes.

After staying a few more days at Aubrey Hall, the Y/L/N family departed, leaving a void in Benedict’s heart. As their carriage disappeared down the long driveway, he stood beside his father, Edmund Bridgerton, who placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“Time will pass quickly, my boy,” Edmund said gently. “And you’ll see her again before you know it.”

Benedict nodded, but the ache in his heart remained. Little did he know, their next meeting would be years away, and the feelings he harbored would only grow stronger with time.

Years had passed since the Y/L/N family’s departure, and Benedict had grown into a handsome and talented young man. He pursued his passion for art with fervor, yet a part of him always yearned for the companionship he had once shared with Y/N.

The sun had just begun to set, casting a warm golden glow over Aubrey Hall, when Lady Violet Bridgerton received the letter. She was seated in the drawing room with her children, each engaged in their own activities. Anthony was reviewing estate documents, Colin was reading a book, Eloise was writing furiously in her notebook, and the younger ones were playing a game by the fireplace.

"Everyone," Lady Violet called, her voice filled with excitement. "I have just received the most wonderful news."

The Bridgerton children looked up, curiosity piqued.

"What is it, Mother?" Anthony asked, setting aside his papers.

Lady Violet grinned. "We are to have guests. The Duke and Duchess of Ashbourne, along with their children, are coming to visit."

A chorus of reactions followed. Eloise raised an eyebrow. "The Ashbournes? Weren't they the family that moved away to travel the world?"

"Yes, indeed," Lady Violet confirmed. "The duke was a dear friend of your father. They moved away years ago, but they have decided to return for a time."

"Does this mean we’ll get to see Thomas again?" Colin asked, a grin spreading across his face. "I always liked him."

"And Y/N," Daphne added, her eyes twinkling. "I remember she was always so talented in the pianoforte and the harp."

Benedict remained silent, a slight blush creeping up his neck. He hoped no one would notice, but of course, Anthony did.

"Well, well, Benedict," Anthony said, a mischievous glint in his eye. "It looks like your childhood crush will be reunited with you," Anthony said, a mischievous glint in his eye.

Benedict tried to maintain his composure. "Don't be ridiculous, Anthony. That was ages ago."

Colin chimed in, unable to resist the opportunity to tease his brother. "Oh, come on, Benedict. We all remember how you used to follow her around like a lost puppy."

Eloise snickered. "And how you would turn bright red whenever she spoke to you."

Benedict sighed, knowing he was fighting a losing battle. "I was a child. We’ve all grown up since then."

"Perhaps," Anthony said, leaning back in his chair. "But it will be interesting to see how things play out now that you’re both adults."

Lady Violet intervened, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "Enough teasing, boys. Let us make sure everything is ready for their arrival. They will be here in a few days, and I want everything to be perfect."

As the family dispersed to prepare for their guests, the three Bridgerton brothers found themselves alone in the study.

Anthony leaned against the desk, his expression thoughtful. "It will be good to see Thomas again. He was always a good friend."

Colin nodded. "I heard he’s become quite the gentleman. And he was always supportive of Y/N’s education and talents. Not like most men of our time."

"True," Anthony agreed. "Thomas was never one to adhere strictly to societal norms. He always did what he thought was right."

Benedict, who had been quiet, finally spoke up. "I wonder how much Y/N has changed. She was always so passionate about music and poetry."

Colin grinned. "Still thinking about her, eh? You know, Anthony and I used to place bets on when you would finally tell her how you felt."

Benedict rolled his eyes. "You’re never going to let this go, are you?"

Anthony laughed. "Not a chance. But in all seriousness, Benedict, it will be good to see them again. And who knows? Maybe this visit will bring about some unexpected surprises."

Benedict sighed, but a small smile played on his lips. "Maybe."

Y/N stood by her bedroom window, looking out at the rolling hills of their estate as the sun began its slow descent. She was filled with a mix of excitement and apprehension about their imminent departure to Aubrey Hall. The Bridgertons had always held a special place in her heart, especially Benedict, but years and distance had complicated those feelings.

"Are you ready, Y/N?" Thomas's voice called from the hallway.

Y/N turned away from the window and smiled as her brother entered the room. "Almost. Just gathering my thoughts."

Thomas gave her a knowing look. "Excited to see the Bridgertons again?"

"Of course," Y/N replied, smoothing down her dress. "It's been too long."

Thomas leaned against the doorframe, his expression thoughtful. "You know, Anthony mentioned in his letters that Benedict has been quite busy at the Royal Academy. Apparently, the place is famous for its...nude models."

Y/N's hand froze mid-air, her heart skipping a beat. "Nude models?"

Thomas nodded, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. "Yes, it seems our dear Benedict has been immersing himself in all aspects of art. Anthony said in his letter something about him knocking over an easel while staring at a rather attractive model. Everyone had a good laugh. Quite the scandal, isn't it?"

Y/N's cheeks flushed as she tried to mask her reaction. "It's part of his training, I'm sure. Nothing more."

Thomas watched her carefully, his smirk growing. "You’re right. Still, it's interesting, don’t you think?"

Y/N forced a smile. "What’s your point, Thomas?"

"My point," he said, stepping closer, "is that you seem unusually interested in Benedict’s artistic pursuits."

Y/N met her brother’s gaze firmly. "I’m interested in all my friends' pursuits. Nothing unusual about that."

Thomas chuckled, shaking his head. "Very well. But remember, Y/N, I know you better than anyone. I can tell when something—or someone—is on your mind."

Y/N lifted her chin. "And I can assure you, Thomas, that my mind is perfectly clear."

"Fine, fine," Thomas said, raising his hands in mock surrender. "But if you ever need to talk about anything, you know where to find me."

Y/N nodded, grateful for her brother's support, even if she wasn’t ready to share her feelings. "Thank you, Thomas. Now, let’s focus on the journey ahead."

"Agreed," Thomas said, offering his arm. "Shall we?"

Y/N took his arm, and they made their way downstairs where their parents were waiting. As they stepped outside, she felt excited about the days to come. But also jealousy, which she never felt before in her life. She knew that it was none of her business what Benedict did or did not do. Nevertheless, she could not help herself feeling this way.

The journey to Aubrey Hall was filled with excitement and nostalgia. As their carriage approached the estate, memories of their childhood flooded Y/N’s mind. She felt a mix of eagerness and nervousness, wondering how much had changed. Still, there was a feeling Y/N couldn't shake away. The things that her brother told her about Benedict still haunted her. Benedict changed, she knew that for certain, but she really hoped that his feelings did not.

" It feels so strange to be back again," Thomas said, making Y/N turn to him. "It is like we have never left."

Her father nodded. "I get what you mean. It was like yesterday when you and Benedict were chasing Y/N and Daphne in the garden while Edmund and I were watching with a smile on our faces."

After mentioning the late Viscount, the eyes of your father started to fill with tears. He was in shock when the news came that Edmund passed away. It took him a few months to process the tragic loss of his closest friend. Y/N could not even imagine what Benedict went through.

"We all miss him terribly," your mother said, taking her husband's hand in hers. "But there is no need to sadden ourselves with the past. You will get to see Anthony as the new viscount. I'm sure he fitted the title well."

Your father smiled at his wife and kissed her hand. She always knew how to lift her spirits.

"Just like how Thomas will fit the title of the duke of Ashbourne well." Thomas rolled his eyes while Y/N and her parents started laughing.

"Believe me, father, that it will be years before I will get the title. You will live a long life with mama and your children and grandchildren by your side."

the funny banter between the Ashbourne family was not something new. They always have differed from the rest of the ton. There was no marriage pressure. The duke and duchess put the education of their children first, wanting nothing but happiness for them.

"Look, they have arrived!"

The Ashbourne carriage rolled to a stop in front of Aubrey Hall, the Bridgerton family waiting outside to greet their guests. The air was filled with anticipation and a touch of nostalgia as the two families prepared to reunite after so many years.

Lady Violet stepped forward with a warm smile. "Welcome, welcome!"

The Duke of Ashbourne, a distinguished gentleman with a friendly demeanor, was the first to step out, helping his elegant wife, the Duchess of Ashbourne, out of the carriage. Following them were Thomas and Y/N, who looked around with a mix of excitement and nervousness.

"It’s wonderful to see you, Violet," the Duke said, embracing Lady Violet. "Thank you for having us."

"The pleasure is all ours," Lady Violet replied. "We’ve missed you terribly."

As the Ashbournes stepped out of the carriage, the Bridgerton children moved forward to greet them. Anthony, Colin, and Benedict engulfed Thomas in a warm embrace.

"Thomas, it’s been far too long," Anthony said, clapping him on the back.

"Indeed," Thomas replied, smiling. "It’s good to see you all."

Y/N followed, greeting each Bridgerton sibling with a warm smile and a hug, her demeanor friendly and welcoming. However, when she reached Benedict, her expression changed. She gave him a polite nod; her smile barely reaching her eyes.

When Benedict watched her getting out of the carriage, he only had one thought.

She is breathtakingly beautiful.

Her blonde hair changed into a darker shade of brown, but her eyes were the same. They were still mirroring such beauty he wished he could draw. Her smile was still contagious, affecting him immediately with his own.

" Mr Bridgerton, it is good to see you. How have you been?"

Mr Bridgerton? Why was she so formal suddenly? Was she not as excited to see him as he was seeing her?

"Miss Y/L/N, It is great to see you too. I am well, thank you for asking, been quite busy with my paintings."

Y/N’s gaze turned icy. "So I’ve heard." Without waiting for a response, she turned and walked straight inside, leaving Benedict standing there, bewildered.

As Benedict watched her retreating figure, he felt a pang of hurt and confusion. He glanced towards Thomas, who was already looking at him with a knowing look, a faint smile playing on his lips.

Sensing the tension in the air, Thomas was the first to speak. "Well, it is rather chilly out here. Let’s all follow my dear sister inside, shall we?"

The group laughed, the tension easing slightly as they followed Thomas into the grand entrance hall of Aubrey Hall.

As they made their way inside, the tension between Y/N and Benedict did not go unnoticed by the rest of the family. Lady Violet exchanged a concerned glance with the duchess while Anthony observed the interaction with a furrowed brow.

Once inside, they were led to the grand dining room, where a sumptuous feast awaited them. The grand dining room at Aubrey Hall was resplendent with crystal chandeliers casting a warm glow over the elegantly set table.

The Duke of Ashbourne, seated beside Lord Anthony Bridgerton, raised his glass. “To old friends and new beginnings,” he toasted, his voice rich and warm.

The toast was met with a chorus of agreement and the clinking of glasses. As the first course was served, Lady Violet began the conversation. “William, Eleanor, how has your journey been so far? Any memorable adventures?”

Eleanor smiled, glancing at her children. “It’s been a wonderful experience. We’ve seen so many beautiful places, and the children have learned a great deal.”

“Indeed,” the Duke added. “Thomas and Y/N have taken to it splendidly. Y/N, in particular, has been quite inspired by the landscapes for her poetry.”

Lady Violet’s eyes sparkled with interest. “Poetry, Y/N? That’s marvelous. You must share some with us later.”

Y/N smiled politely. “Of course, my lady. I’d be happy to.”

As the conversation flowed, it eventually turned to the Bridgerton siblings. “Benedict,” the Duke said, turning his attention to the second eldest Bridgerton, “I hear you’ve made quite a name for yourself at the Academy.”

Benedict, who had been quietly observing Y/N, nodded. “Yes, Your Grace. I’ve been fortunate to study under some very talented artists.”

Y/N, unable to suppress her irritation, interjected with a cool tone. “Including some very talented models, I’ve heard.”

The room fell silent, the tension palpable. Benedict’s cheeks reddened slightly, but he maintained his composure. “Yes, we do work with models. It’s a necessary part of our training.”

The duchess, sensing the awkwardness, tried to steer the conversation back on track. “I’m sure the experience has been invaluable, Benedict. Art requires such dedication.”

Benedict nodded, but his eyes remained on Y/N. “It has been invaluable. Every aspect of it contributes to our growth as artists.”

Thomas, ever the peacemaker, chimed in. “Anthony told us about some of your work. It sounds quite impressive.”

Y/N’s lips curled into a tight smile. “Yes, very impressive. Especially the part where you managed to knock over an easel. Quite the spectacle, I hear.”

Benedict’s jaw tightened, and he glanced around the table, noting the concerned expressions of his family. “It was a mistake. One that was quickly rectified.”

Colin, trying to lighten the mood, laughed. “Well, Benedict has always had a flair for the dramatic.”

Eloise nudged her brother. “Perhaps a bit too much flair, at times.”

Laughter rippled around the table, but the underlying tension remained. Y/N felt a pang of guilt but was too stubborn to relent. She glanced at her brother, who gave her a pointed look, silently urging her to ease up.

Lady Violet, ever the gracious hostess, smoothly transitioned the conversation to more neutral topics, asking about the sights the Ashbourne family had visited and their future plans. The dinner continued, but the strained interactions between Y/N and Benedict cast a shadow over the evening.

As dessert was served, Lady Violet addressed Y/N directly. “Y/N, my dear, I’ve heard you play the pianoforte beautifully. Would you grace us with a performance after dinner?”

Y/N, grateful for the distraction, nodded. “Of course. It would be my pleasure.”

The meal concluded with polite conversation, but the tension lingered. Y/N excused herself to prepare for her performance, and as she left the dining room, she felt Benedict’s gaze on her, filled with a mix of hurt and confusion.

Later that evening, Y/N sat at the grand pianoforte in the drawing room, her fingers dancing gracefully over the keys. Heart filled with the hauntingly beautiful melody of a piece, she knew the room—Benedict's favorite.

The Bridgertons and Y/L/N's watched in silent admiration, but Benedict’s eyes never left Y/N. He was captivated, every note and every word pulling him deeper into the memories of their shared past. As the song drew to a close, Y/N’s eyes glistened with unshed tears, and as the last note lingered in the air, a single tear slipped down her cheek. Across the room, Benedict’s own eyes misted over, a tear tracing a path down his face as well. The rest of the family exchanged knowing glances, sensing the intense, unspoken connection between the two.

Y/N stood, curtsied, and, with a polite smile, excused herself from the room, needing a moment alone to compose herself. As she walked down the dimly lit hallway, her heart ached with a mixture of regret and confusion.

Benedict, unable to bear the distance and misunderstanding any longer, quietly followed her into a room. “Y/N, wait,” he called softly.

She stopped but didn’t turn around, taking a deep breath to steady herself. “Yes, Benedict?” Her voice was calm but strained.

He approached her cautiously, his expression a mix of determination and vulnerability. “Why are you treating me like this? What have I done to deserve your coldness?”

Y/N finally turned to face him, her eyes flashing with a mix of anger and hurt. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Benedict. I’ve been perfectly polite.”

Benedict shook his head, frustration evident in his voice. “No, you haven’t. You’ve been distant, cold. This isn’t like you. Please, tell me what’s wrong so that I can fix it."

She crossed her arms defensively, her gaze piercing. “I don’t know what you’re imagining, but there’s nothing wrong. Perhaps you’re just seeing what you want to see.”

His frustration bubbled over, and he stepped closer, his voice low and intense. “This isn’t about what I want to see, Y/N. This is about what’s real. You’ve changed towards me, and I need to know why.”

She took a step back, her breath hitching. “It doesn’t matter, Benedict. Go back to your paintings and models. I could not care less."

His frustration turned to desperation, Benedict reached out and gently but firmly grasped her arm, pulling her back towards him. They stood face to face, the tension between them crackling with electricity. His voice was a murmur, filled with desperate longing. “But you do care, don't you? Why do you care, Y/N? Tell me.”

Her eyes locked onto his, the intensity of his gaze making her heart race. She tried to look away, but he cupped her cheek, forcing her to meet his eyes. “Tell me, Y/N. Please.”

Her defenses crumbled, and she whispered, her voice breaking. “I don’t care. Why should I? What you do is your own concern.”

His grip on her arm tightened slightly, his breath warm against her skin as he leaned in closer. “You do care. I can see it in your eyes. In your big beautiful eyes. Why won’t you admit it?”

Her voice was barely more than a whisper, trembling with the effort of holding back her emotions. “Because it’s easier not to. Because admitting it means facing the truth.”

“What truth?” Benedict’s voice was a mere breath away, his lips inches from hers.

Her heart pounded in her chest, and she could no longer deny the truth to herself or to him. “That I never stopped caring about you, Benedict. That I’ve loved you since we were children, and the thought of you with someone else… it breaks my heart.”

His eyes softened, and he leaned in closer, his breath mingling with hers. “And I’ve loved you, Y/N. I’ve loved you every single day we’ve been apart.”

She closed her eyes, the tears finally spilling over. “Then why didn’t you ever tell me?”

“I was a fool,” he admitted, his voice thick with emotion. “I was afraid you wouldn’t feel the same way. But I can’t keep it inside any longer.”

Before she could respond, he closed the distance between them, capturing her lips in a kiss that was both tender and passionate. The world seemed to fade away as they poured all their longing and love into that one moment, finally allowing themselves to feel what they had denied for so long.

When they finally pulled apart, both were breathless, their foreheads resting against each other. “No more secrets,” Y/N whispered, her voice shaky but filled with hope.

“No more secrets,” Benedict promised, his eyes shining with love and determination.

They stood there for a moment, holding each other, the weight of their confessions lifting from their shoulders. The tension that had once filled the air was replaced with a sense of peace and newfound understanding.

Just then, a voice broke the silence. "Well, well, what do we have here?"

Y/N and Benedict sprang apart, startled, as Thomas stepped into the hallway. His expression was serious, his eyes locked on Benedict. Y/N's heart raced, fearing her brother's reaction.

"Thomas, I—" Y/N began, but Thomas held up a hand to silence her.

"I always knew I’d have to deal with this day," Thomas said, his voice low and dangerous. He turned his gaze to Benedict, who stood his ground, though a hint of apprehension flickered in his eyes. "Benedict Bridgerton, you have compromised my sister's honor. There’s only one way to settle this."

Y/N’s eyes widened in fear. "Thomas, please, don’t—"

Thomas continued, a stern look on his face. "We must duel."

The hallway fell silent, the tension thick in the air. Then, to Y/N's utter astonishment, Thomas’s serious expression broke into a wide grin, and he burst out laughing.

"I’m just kidding!" he exclaimed, clapping Benedict on the shoulder. "You should have seen your faces!"

Benedict let out a relieved laugh, shaking his head. "Thomas, you nearly gave us both a heart attack."

Y/N exhaled deeply, her heart still pounding. "Thomas, that wasn’t funny!"

"It was a little funny," Thomas said, still chuckling. "But really, everyone in the drawing room is waiting for you two. They’ve been hoping for this day for a long time."

Y/N and Benedict exchanged a glance, their relief mingled with the lingering rush of adrenaline.

Thomas gestured back towards the drawing room. "Come on, let’s not keep them waiting."

As they re-entered the room, the gathered family turned to look at them. Lady Violet and the duchess’s faces lit up with delight, and Daphne’s eyes sparkled with joy. The Duke of Ashbourne stood beside Lady Eleanor, his expression warm and approving. Anthony, Colin, Eloise, Gregory, and Hyacinth were also present, each showing various degrees of amusement and happiness.

"There you are!" Lady Violet said, her smile warm and knowing. "We were starting to wonder if you’d gotten lost."

"Come on," Colin said, grinning broadly. "Don't keep us waiting. Are you finally together or not?"

Y/N's cheeks flushed as she glanced at Benedict, who nodded, smiling. "Yes, we are," she said, her voice clear and steady.

Lady Eleanor’s face lit up even more. "Well, then, I think it’s safe to say we can start planning a wedding."

Y/N’s eyes widened in surprise. "Mama, it’s way too soon for that!" she exclaimed, her cheeks flushing even deeper.

The Duke of Ashbourne chuckled, patting Y/N's shoulder gently. "Your mother is just excited, dear. But we should let the young couple take their time."

Colin and Anthony, standing near the fireplace, exchanged a look and grinned. "Well, Benedict, looks like you’ve finally caught the eye of a Duke’s daughter," Colin teased.

"Always aiming high, aren’t you, brother?" Anthony added, his tone playful.

Benedict, his arm still around Y/N, beamed. "I guess I’ve always known what I wanted."

Daphne approached Y/N, embracing her warmly. "Welcome to the family, officially."

Y/N’s heart swelled with happiness. "Thank you, Daphne. I’m so glad to be here."

Eloise, ever the sharp-witted observer, smirked. "Well, it’s about time. I was beginning to think you two would never figure it out."

Gregory and Hyacinth, the youngest Bridgerton's, clapped excitedly. "Does this mean we get to have another party?" Gregory asked, his eyes wide with anticipation.

Hyacinth grinned. "I hope so! I love weddings!"

As the evening continued, the family celebrated the long-awaited union. Lady Violet and Lady Eleanor eagerly discussed wedding plans, while the Bridgerton brothers teased Benedict good-naturedly.

Thomas, watching the scene with a satisfied smile, caught Y/N’s eye and gave her an encouraging nod. She smiled back, her heart full.

Later, as the festivities wound down, Y/N and Benedict found a quiet moment together. He took her hand, his eyes full of love. "I meant every word I said earlier, Y/N. I love you, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you."

She looked up at him, her heart brimming with emotion. "And I love you, Benedict. More than I can say."

He leaned down, pressing a tender kiss to her lips. "Let's always be together. Always."

"Agreed," she whispered, feeling the weight of the past lift away.

As they stood there, surrounded by family and love, Y/N knew that this was just the beginning of a beautiful future together.

[piratecaptainscaptainpirates]

Seriously what is going on. One of the things I really respect about DJenks is he was very prompt and clear about both announcing the cancelation and raising the white flag, and he's been extremely careful not to say anything that could get hopes up since March.

And now, suddenly, in the past three days we've gotten him directly tagging a specific streamer calling OFMD "available," other cast members using the #supnetflix tag, DJenks talking about how good season 3 would be...I don't know what's going on behind the scenes, but something's up, right? This might never amount to anything but SOMETHING is going on, and it feels a lot like back early in the renewal effort when spirits were high and DJenks was focusing attention on a handful of streamers (but now it's just ONE, which is even more interesting). Would he even be ALLOWED to call OFMD "available" if the situation was still the same as back in March?

Something has made him take down the white flag, at least for now. And all we can do is keep the buzz going (and requesting OFMD via Netflix's form couldn't hurt, the form's here and it takes literally five seconds).

[callsigns-haze]

You knew? Part 2 of 3

Part 1

Pairing: Bradley Rooster Bradshaw x Reader! Callsign Ace

Chapter Summary: A week after Ace's near-fatal crash, she finally wakes up in the hospital, recovering from her injuries. Rooster, who has avoided seeing her since the email debacle, finally gathers the courage to visit her. Their conversation is tense and filled with unresolved emotions, as Ace confronts him about the betrayal she felt after discovering he was behind the anonymous flirtatious emails.

This chapter contains themes of emotional conflict, betrayal, and recovery from a near-death experience. Expect tense dialogue and unresolved emotions.

The sun cast a golden glow over the runway as the Daggers prepped for another intense day of training. Jets roared to life, ready to take off into the clear sky. The Dagger Squadron was assembled, but there was a noticeable shift in the air.

Ace, usually vibrant and at the centre of their group, had been distant for the past two months. Ever since the email incident, she’d cut ties with Rooster, Phoenix, not really Hangman as he was her wingman so she forgave him, steering clear of their usual hangouts at the Hard Deck and avoiding meals with the squad.

Now, she focused solely on her flying. Her interactions were brief, professional, and limited to the cockpit. As she strapped into her Dagger and prepared for the upcoming dogfight training, the silence between her and the rest of the squad was deafening. Today’s exercise was set: a mock dogfight in the air, with Ace flying solo against Coyote in his own Dagger, while Payback and Fanboy flew as a pair.

The jets ascended into the sky, climbing higher until the blue expanse stretched endlessly beneath them. The radio crackled with orders as they spread out, the simulated combat about to begin.

"All right, Ace, you’re up. Let’s see what you got," Coyote’s voice buzzed through the comms, a hint of competitive energy in his tone.

Ace’s eyes narrowed in concentration, her fingers gripping the controls as she scanned the sky for her opponents. She banked sharply to the left, cutting through the clouds as she trailed Coyote from above, attempting to line up her shot.

"You’ve gotta be quicker than that, Ace," Coyote taunted, pulling into a sharp climb to shake her off.

She smirked, pushing her Dagger to match his altitude, refusing to give him an inch. Behind them, Payback and Fanboy weaved through the air, keeping their distance while searching for an opening to strike.

The chase was fast and relentless. Ace and Coyote danced through the sky, trading sharp turns and evasive manoeuvres. The thrill of the hunt filled the airwaves, with each Dagger trying to gain the upper hand.

Then, without warning, Ace’s jet jolted.

"Warning: Engine failure. Malfunction detected," the voice in her cockpit announced in a cold, mechanical tone.

Her heart rate spiked as she checked her instruments. Something was wrong. The controls were sluggish, her jet unresponsive to her commands. She tried to stabilize, but the Dagger began to spiral out of control.

"Ace, what’s going on? You’re dropping altitude!" Coyote’s voice crackled over the radio.

She fought against the controls, panic clawing at her as the Dagger dipped into a sharp nosedive. The ground rushed toward her, but her body felt heavy, her vision blurring at the edges. She was slipping into G-LOC—G-force-induced loss of consciousness. Her breath became shallow, her body unable to react.

"Ace! You need to eject!" Payback’s voice boomed over the comms, urgency bleeding through the static.

But no one saw her eject. Her Dagger spiralled, falling faster as she lost the battle to stay conscious. On the ground, the entire squad was glued to the monitors, watching the terrifying descent. Rooster, Phoenix, Hangman, and the others stood frozen, their eyes trained on the screens, waiting for the tell-tale flash of her ejection.

But it never came.

"Come on, Ace… pull the damn handle!" Rooster muttered under his breath, his fingers white-knuckled around his headset.

"She’s not ejecting. Is she unconscious?" Phoenix asked, her voice tight with fear.

Coyote pulled his Dagger up beside Ace’s, trying to get a visual. But it was too late. Her jet continued to plummet, the altitude rapidly decreasing.

"Mayday, mayday!" Coyote called out, desperation lacing his voice as he watched helplessly.

From the ground, they saw her jet spiral down until it disappeared from the screen. Silence filled the control room, the team paralyzed with shock as the realization hit.

"Did she—" Hangman started, but his words were caught in his throat.

No one saw her eject.

Coyote, Fanboy, and Payback, who had been up in the sky with her, were immediately recalled back to base. The radio buzzed with orders.

"Coyote, Fanboy, Payback—return to base. Now," the voice over the comms was firm, but there was no mistaking the urgency.

"Roger that," Coyote responded, his voice unusually sombre. He felt a weight pressing against his chest. None of them had seen Ace eject, and the sinking realization of what that might mean gnawed at him as he flew back.

The three Daggers touched down swiftly, their wheels skidding across the runway as they taxied to a stop. Before they could even unstrap from their jets, the rest of the squad came running, concern etched on their faces.

Rooster was the first to reach Coyote, grabbing his flight suit as he yanked him toward him, eyes wide with fear and questions. "Did you see her eject? Did she make it out?"

Coyote shook his head, face grim. "I didn’t see anything. I tried to get close, but she wasn’t responding. I couldn’t—"

Rooster let him go, stumbling back slightly as his mind raced. "No... no, no, no..." he muttered under his breath. Phoenix and Hangman rushed to Fanboy and Payback, their faces pale, voices rapid with questions.

"How low was she?" Phoenix asked, her voice trembling. "Did she even have time?"

"She was already in a nosedive when I saw her," Fanboy said, his hands shaking slightly. "It happened so fast."

Payback wiped his face with his gloved hand, trying to steady his breathing. "She didn’t respond to any of the comms. I don’t think she had time to eject."

Behind them, Maverick appeared, his expression stern and focused. He didn’t ask questions. Instead, he headed straight for the medical search plane, already prepared to take off. Without a word, he boarded, motioning for the search crew to follow.

"Let’s go. We need to find her," Maverick ordered, his voice commanding, though there was a heaviness to his tone that wasn’t missed by the others.

As the search and rescue plane lifted off, the remaining Daggers were left on the tarmac, standing in a tense, suffocating silence. Rooster, Phoenix, Hangman, Coyote, Fanboy, Payback, and Bob all stood in a loose circle, watching the horizon, their minds racing with the possibility of what they might hear next.

Minutes passed like hours. No one said a word. The weight of what might have happened to Ace settled over them like a heavy blanket, each of them replaying her crash in their heads, trying to make sense of it.

Finally, the radio crackled.

"We’ve located her Dagger," a voice came through. "Wreckage is extensive... no sign of an ejection. We’re sending in the medics now."

Rooster clenched his fists, trying to hold himself together. Phoenix closed her eyes, a silent prayer forming in her mind. Hangman paced back and forth, unable to stand still, his face tight with worry.

Maverick’s voice came next, calmer, but tense. "We found her. She’s alive, but barely. She’s in bad shape. Get the medics ready at base—she’ll need immediate attention."

The relief was immediate but short-lived, crashing against the rising tide of panic. "Alive" didn’t mean safe. Rooster stepped closer to the comms, trying to catch every word, his knuckles white as he gripped the edge of the table.

"Severe condition," Maverick continued. "Multiple injuries, possibly from G-LOC and impact. We’re stabilizing her now, but it’s critical. She needs to be flown out immediately."

Phoenix covered her mouth with her hand, her eyes wide with tears she fought to hold back. Fanboy turned away, unable to face the others as the reality hit. Hangman stopped pacing, his fists clenching by his sides. The usually cocky pilot was quiet, his expression unreadable, but the tension in his posture was clear.

The medical team on base was already on standby, rushing toward the landing area as the search plane prepared to return. The remaining Daggers gathered near the runway, standing in a tight group, waiting for any sign of Ace. Each of them wrestled with their thoughts, guilt creeping into their minds—wondering if there was something they could have done, something they missed.

Minutes later, the medical search plane landed with Ace on board, strapped to a stretcher and surrounded by medics. They worked quickly, moving her onto a gurney as they rushed toward the base’s medical centre. Maverick followed closely behind, his jaw set, but the worry was clear in his eyes.

Rooster watched, his heart pounding in his chest. The brief glimpse he got of her was enough to make his stomach drop—she was pale, her body bruised and battered, a mask over her face supplying oxygen. It was clear she was hanging on by a thread.

"Is she going to make it?" Hangman asked quietly, his voice uncharacteristically subdued.

No one had an answer. The squad stood in stunned silence, watching as their teammate, their friend, was whisked away to the medical wing, her fate uncertain.

Phoenix swallowed hard, her voice barely above a whisper. "She has to make it. She has to."

-

Ace was rushed through the hallways of the base’s medical centre, her stretcher surrounded by a flurry of medics shouting urgent commands. The sound of her ragged breathing through the oxygen mask was barely audible over the hurried footsteps. Her face was pale, her body still and battered from the G-LOC and subsequent crash. The medics moved with precision, wheeling her straight to the emergency trauma unit.

“We need to get her into surgery now!” one of the medics yelled, pushing open the doors to the operating theater.

The surgeons were already scrubbed in, awaiting her arrival. IV lines were attached, monitors were set up, and the sound of beeping machines filled the room. Her vital signs were weak, teetering on the edge of stability. The head surgeon quickly assessed her injuries, noting the signs of severe trauma from both the high G-force and the crash impact.

"She’s got multiple fractures, possible internal bleeding, and signs of severe G-LOC trauma," the surgeon announced, as they began prepping for surgery.

The doors to the operating room swung shut, and the medics filed out, leaving Ace in the hands of the surgical team.

-

In the Hallway

Outside, the Dagger Squad sat in the waiting area, the tension suffocating. None of them had said much since Ace was wheeled away. Rooster leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, staring at the ground as if trying to make sense of the last few hours. His mind was racing with worry and guilt. He’d been tough on Ace, both in the air and on the ground, and now she was fighting for her life.

Phoenix sat next to him, her foot tapping nervously against the floor, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. She couldn’t shake the image of Ace’s jet spiralling out of control, nor the sight of her pale, motionless body when she was brought in. "Come on, Ace," she whispered under her breath.

Hangman paced the length of the hallway, his usual bravado completely absent. His jaw was clenched, fists balled tightly at his sides. He’d been the one who set up the whole email situation, thinking it was just some harmless fun. Even though she forgave him, they still weren't back to normal. Now, guilt gnawed at him with every step he took.

"She’s tough. She’ll pull through," Hangman muttered to himself, but it sounded more like a prayer than a statement of confidence.

Coyote sat further down the row, staring blankly at the door leading to the operating room. He replayed the training flight in his head, going over every detail, wondering if there was something—anything—he could have done differently to prevent the crash.

Fanboy and Payback sat together, whispering to each other every now and then, though their voices were low and full of worry. Bob, the quietest of the group, sat against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, his face a mix of worry and helplessness.

The minutes dragged on. Every time a nurse or doctor walked through the hall, the squad straightened, hoping for an update, but the news never came. The tension was thick in the air, each of them lost in their own thoughts, consumed by fear for their friend.

Maverick entered the hallway, his face a grim mask of calm. He had been overseeing the rescue efforts, but now that Ace was in surgery, there was nothing more he could do but wait. He exchanged a few silent nods with the group before sitting beside Rooster.

“How is she?” Rooster asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“They’re doing everything they can,” Maverick replied, his tone steady but strained. He knew better than anyone how critical the situation was, but he didn’t want to add to their already overwhelming fears.

Hours seemed to pass as they sat in silence, the only sounds in the hallway being the occasional shuffle of footsteps or the distant hum of medical equipment. No one knew what to say, and the weight of uncertainty hung heavily over them all.

Every so often, one of them would glance toward the operating room doors, hoping to see a doctor emerge with good news. But the doors remained shut, and the tension in the room grew thicker with each passing second.

Finally, the sound of footsteps echoed down the hall. The squad all turned toward the noise, holding their breath. A nurse approached, her expression neutral, but the look in her eyes was serious.

“The surgery’s still ongoing,” she said, her voice calm but firm. “It’s going to be a long one. She’s stable for now, but it’s critical. The doctors are doing everything they can.”

“Stable,” Phoenix repeated, the word a fragile lifeline she clung to. “That’s something.”

The nurse nodded. “It is. But it’s still touch and go. We’ll keep you updated.”

The squad nodded in unison, though the news wasn’t as reassuring as they’d hoped. The wait continued, with everyone’s minds now filled with images of Ace in the operating room, fighting for her life.

Each of them sat, stood, or paced, trying to pass the time, but every second felt like an eternity as they waited for any sign that Ace would be okay.

----

One Week Later

The sterile scent of the hospital room lingered in the air, blending with the steady beeping of the machines that monitored Ace’s vitals. Sunlight filtered through the blinds, casting soft shadows across the room. Ace lay in the bed, her body still aching from the injuries she’d sustained, but she was finally awake. Her head throbbed faintly, and her muscles felt weak, but she was conscious—and alive.

It had been a week since the crash. A week of surgeries, recovery, and slowly regaining her strength. The Dagger Squad had visited her throughout the week, offering support and well-wishes, but Rooster hadn’t shown up once.

She wasn’t surprised. After the email situation, their relationship had soured more than ever. The betrayal she’d felt after realizing it was Rooster on the other end of those flirtatious emails still stung, even more so after the crash. She had expected him to stay away.

As she stared at the ceiling, lost in thought, the door creaked open. She looked over, and her eyes widened slightly as Rooster stepped inside, his expression uncertain.

"Hey," he said softly, his voice a little rough, like he had rehearsed what he was going to say a thousand times but still wasn’t sure how to begin.

Ace tensed slightly but didn’t say anything right away. Her eyes flickered with a mix of surprise and something else—resentment, maybe—but she masked it quickly, keeping her face neutral.

Rooster took a few hesitant steps toward the chair by her bed. He looked uncomfortable, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his flight suit as he stood awkwardly by the door, unsure if he should sit or not.

“I—uh, I thought I should come by,” he continued, finally deciding to sit down. He ran a hand through his hair, the familiar nervous gesture she had seen countless times before, but now it felt different. “It’s been... a lot.”

Ace raised an eyebrow, though the movement sent a dull ache through her head. “A lot,” she repeated, her voice flat.

Rooster winced at her tone but didn’t back down. “I know I should’ve come sooner. I just—didn’t know what to say after everything. After what happened with the emails and then... this,” he gestured vaguely toward her, indicating her injuries.

Ace remained silent, her eyes focused on him but her face giving nothing away. She wasn’t ready to make this easy for him, not after everything that had happened between them.

He sighed, leaning forward, elbows resting on his knees as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Look, I know I screwed up with the whole email thing. I didn’t mean for it to... go the way it did, I didn't know it was you at the start either. It was supposed to be some dumb fun, but it hurt you, and I’m sorry.”

Ace’s jaw tightened, her mind flashing back to the moment she had discovered Rooster was the one behind the anonymous emails. The betrayal still felt fresh, even after weeks of avoiding him.

“You have no idea,” she said quietly, her voice cutting through the room like a blade. “You have no idea how much that messed with my head, Bradley.”

Rooster flinched at the use of his first name, a sign of how serious things had gotten. She almost never called him that. “I know. I get that now.”

“No,” Ace interrupted, her voice stronger now, though strained from disuse. “You don’t get it. You thought it was a game. I thought... I don’t know what I thought, but it wasn’t that. You led me on, Rooster. And for what? A joke? Some sick competition?”

Rooster looked down at his hands, guilt written all over his face. “It wasn’t like that. I didn’t—” He paused, searching for the right words. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. It just got out of hand.”

Ace clenched her fists beneath the hospital blanket, frustration bubbling up inside her. She had spent weeks—months—trying to figure out why she had been so blindsided by him. It wasn’t just the betrayal, it was everything leading up to it—the animosity, the tension, the constant bickering. And then, suddenly, the emails had made her think there was something different, something more.

“Out of hand?” she echoed, her voice bitter. “You humiliated me.”

Rooster’s gaze shot up, his expression pained. “I didn’t mean to.”

Ace exhaled sharply, leaning back against the pillows, exhausted from the conversation but too frustrated to stop. “And then you didn’t even come to see me. Not once. I almost died, Rooster.”

He looked like he had been punched. “I know. I was... I didn’t think you’d want to see me. After everything.”

“That’s your excuse?” she asked, her voice laced with disbelief. “I’ve been lying here, dealing with all of this, and you just couldn’t be bothered to show up because you were afraid?”

Rooster opened his mouth to respond but stopped, realizing there was nothing he could say that would make it right. He couldn’t take back what he’d done, and he couldn’t fix the way he’d hurt her.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, his voice raw. “For everything. For not coming sooner. For the emails. For being an idiot.”

The room was thick with tension, the air heavy between them. Ace watched him, her anger simmering beneath the surface. She didn’t know if she could forgive him—not yet, maybe not ever—but part of her was too tired to keep fighting.

“I’m just glad you’re okay,” Rooster added, his voice almost a whisper. He looked at her with genuine concern, the guilt and regret clear in his eyes.

Ace didn’t respond right away. Instead, she closed her eyes and let out a long, slow breath. “I don’t know what to say to you right now, Rooster.”

He nodded, standing up slowly. “I get it. I won’t push you. But I’m here if you ever want to talk. I mean it.”

Ace opened her eyes, watching him as he moved toward the door. He hesitated for a moment before glancing back at her. “Take care of yourself, Ace.”

And with that, he was gone, leaving her alone with her thoughts, the weight of their conversation settling heavily on her shoulders.

Please comment, like and reblog!

[kissmetwicekissmedeadly]

MIDNIGHT CINDERELLA MEMORIAL POST

The Midnight Cinderella app will be closed on Monday August 26th, 2024 (5 PM JST). The English version was actively updated from 2014 to 2021 when Cybird announced the ceasing of operations for MidCin, but the app remained accessible until today. I'm sure I'm not the only one who mourns the loss of it even after all these years of discontinuation, so I wanted to put together a post to properly say goodbye to it. Trying my best not to make it all too sappy - I'd rather look at it as a show that reached its final episode. Some things might be left unresolved but in the end, you remember the cast and the emotions they made you feel more than the actual plot. Nowadays there arguably may be better titles by Cybird out there, but for me, the simplicity of MidCin was what made the details so memorable.

1. VIDEO - POV: You're playing Midnight Cinderella (for 10 minutes)

The 10-minute version (without sound) is accessible via the link above (opens in Google Docs) This one I was really excited about recording! It's just your normal day playing midcin, I'm sure many will find it nostalgic and comforting. You log in, claim your daily bonus (I used the chance to do a present box reveal, 90+ items, many of which you might recognize from route grace checks), play the garden gacha (in my case, I used up all the points I had accumulated, 7800 which equals 39 solos), do your princess lessons, change your avatar, greet your friends, read 1/5 of today's free story parts, check the ranking and your stats, look at your memories directory. The video has no sound, as the game wouldn't let me turn it on (you will see me try to do so throughout the video...) but later on I got it to work so I recorded a one-minute video (the one imported above) of me replenishing stamina just for those iconic sound effects that you either loved or absolutely couldn't stand the volume of, haha.

2. A Midnight Cinderella playlist (spotify link)

While I wasn't there for the early days of midcin, the songs I associated with the game almost always captured this very specifically nostalgic 90s-10s period, you'll see what I mean. Many of those are taken from 8track playlists dedicated to Midnight Cinderella, and if I'm not mistaken you can still look at what is left of them if you search them up. Others are just my very random interpretations of the route stories and the characters.

3. Fic recommendations

We have a lovely community of creatives and there are still so many works left behind which you can check out on the tags! But especially for fics I wanted to list some that truly touched me during the years (all links open in ao3) -

i'm on fire and its NSFW bonus scene bloodstream by a deleted user - words are not enough for this one. It's like it meant more than Nico's whole route for me at one point, and the songs are forever in my heart as Nico songs...

MidCin Works by DBMidCin (SoftSen) - ALL of these. This is my go-to collection of writings for midcin when I start to miss the game, it has a little bit of everything. The headcanon of Giles teaching his girls French for instance is one of the things I still remember reading like it was yesterday!

Bedroom Etiquette (NSFW) by RubyLeeRay - Because this is the dream. Doing something forbidden with your tutor Giles is the ultimate fantasy, I swear. I just love it.

And of course, many, many more. There are currently 166 works on the midcin tag in Ao3, and I'm sure there are a lot of hidden gems here on tumblr as well! Reminder that writers LOVE it when you interact with their old works, it's not weird, you shouldn't hesitate doing so if you find yourself enjoying any of them! <3

4. My own humble collection of MidCin writings on my writing blog @xxsycamore!

Maid, Butler, Chamberlain (NSFW) - Nico x MC with Giles joining them

Grabbles: 💋 Demand for a kiss, right here, right now (GILES); 👔 Stealing their clothes to cuddle when you miss them (BYRON); more coming soon as there are still some in my askbox and I plan on including midcin in future short writings request openings too.

Shared Moments (NSFW) - Nico x Reader - Secret relationship

Ice-cold heat (NSFW) - Byron x Reader - Temperature play

Double the Surprise - Alyn and Leo birthday fic

Leo Crawford having a misadventure with a cat (ao3 link) - crack fic featuring most of the suitors

5. Out of context Midnight Cinderella screenshots

This is a sideblog of mine dedicated to posting out-of-context funny screenshots that I took while playing the routes - @oocmidcin . If you have some of your own that are not on there, you're free to submit them and add to the archive!

6. The perfect MidCin song - The Moon Will Sing by The Crane Wives

When I first discovered this song back in 2020 I dreamed of making it into a midcin music video with simplistic art and animations... It ended up being just something you daydream in detail about while in the car, but that's alright. I could at least share my vision with you! Disclaimer, this is just an interpretation and obviously it can't fit all characters ideally - In the brackets, I explain how the lyric is related to them and usually it reveals their backstories. Some of the details I've already forgotten, sorry if it's inaccurate.)

Tell me once again

I could have been anyone, anyone else

Before you made the choice for me

(Giles - his family making the choice for him since birth and later disowning him once he failed to become a knight due to his illness)

My feet knew the path

We walked in the dark, in the dark

I never gave a single thought to where it might lead

(Nico - wandering the streets with his mother once they were thrown out of Stein castle because she was a commoner having an affair with Byron's father, the King)

All those empty rooms

We could have been anywhere, anywhere else

Instead I made a bed with apathy

(Robert - the empty rooms of the once flourishing palace of the country that Robert ruled and led to demise, nowadays becoming a mere court painter)

My heart knew the weight

Ten years' worth of dust and neglect

We made our peace with weariness and let it be

(Leo - the years in which Alyn didn't speak to him, after the death of their parents)

The moon will sing a song for me

I loved you like the sun

Bore the shadows that you made

With no light of my own

(Albert - loyally standing in king Byron's shadow)

Name your courage now

We could have had anything, anything else

Instead you hoarded all that's left of me

(Sid - his relationship with his fiance that he agreed upon just to find out more about his parents by getting close to her father)

Swallowing your doubt

Like swords to the pit of my belly

I want to feel the fire that you kept from me

(Alyn - searching for answers about the murder of his family and the fire that burnt down their home)

I shine only with the light you gave me

(I could have been anyone, anyone)

(Louis - being a nobody and MC being his sun)

7. It goes on

I went to read what I could of chapter 4 of Rayvis' route, using my last two chapter tickets as well, thinking it won't make me cry. And then I'm hit with those familiar things.

So let's close this with a word about the things that never change in the universe of Midnight Cinderella.

Stumbling down the grand staircase and right into the arms of somebody. Escaping the palace at midnight with Nico's help. Sitting at breakfast with Giles giving you your schedule for the day. Nico's teasing little smile as he accompanies you everywhere and listens to your relationship troubles. The way he's just a little suspicious at times. Finding Robert painting in the garden of Wysteria palace. Going to the room of your chosen suitor for the first time and meeting a pet there. Leo teaching you history and politics in his office. Dance lessons with Louis. Needing those dance lessons because King Byron is coming to Wysteria and a ball is going to take place. The bureaucrats being unhappy with you as a princess elect, no matter what. Galloping on a horse with Alyn who just protected you from an enemy attack. Getting information from a certain flirty merchant at a bar. Albert bickering with Nico, Sid teasing Louis. Being introduced to Archduke Herneit at Stein castle. King Byron appreciating the night sky. The sight of your yellow and orange princess elect room where on the large bed with its blue bedframe and tall see-through canopy you lie awake and think about the events of the day and how would a wise future Queen of Wysteria deal with the current situation. But ultimately you fall asleep, hearing the melancholically beautiful sounds of a violin coming from somewhere deep within your dream, and leave it all to the following day.

Thank you for everything, Midnight Cinderella!

08/26/2024

[noiriarti]

The Winner Takes it All: Anakin Skywalker x Reader (Enemies-to-Lovers Modern AU) | Chapter 6

NSFW! Minors DNI!!! Summary: The moment the thesis competition was announced, you knew your biggest threat. Anakin Skywalker, golden boy of the engineering department. He's the only other person smart enough to beat you, and the only other person insane enough to stay in the lab until midnight every night. He's also an asshole, but you're starting to think maybe he's not as bad as you thought he was... Pairing: Anakin Skywalker x Fem!Reader CW: a lot of jerking off WC: 8.4k AN: thank you all for your patience!! i started grad school so i got a bit busy, but now i will update about once a week! thank you all for the love :) also i am so sorry about all the angst

Ch. 1, Ch. 2, Ch. 3, Ch. 4, Ch. 5, Ch. 6, Ch. 7

Chapter 6: Tearing

The afternoon sun filtered through his window shade and cast his room in its warm glow, but Anakin was too busy with his notes on his desk to notice. He needed something to do with his hands, just to keep himself focused, to keep his thoughts from wandering to you. To answer a practice problem, he was trying to find a specific case of heat diffusion the class had discussed--somewhere in October, he thought, but he wasn't quite sure. His desk was already messy before he began studying, but he was making it even worse with a paper thrown here, a staple there.

His eyes scanned the paper this way and that, trying to absorb any iota of information, but the words were slippery, wily things that wriggled out of his grasp. In the end, it turned out he had flipped past the page several times without seeing what he needed, and he finally found it on his fifth pass. Subconsciously, he dug his nails into his palms in frustration. Why couldn't he work? Why were you doing this to him?

His phone chimed, a text from his mom. Hey, how are finals? Doing okay?

For a few days, he'd been ducking questions about whether he was sleeping or eating enough, because he knew she'd be disappointed with his answers. He was running out of ways to change the subject in phone calls, and he knew she was catching on. Anakin decided he should probably respond.

yeah, really stressed about one of them, rest are fine. thesis going ok.

A second later, his phone lit up again.

Good luck. I'm so proud of you, Anakin, no matter what. As soon as he read it, he dropped his head into his hands. His forehead was clammy under his fingers. Of course she was proud of him unconditionally. He knew that. But he knew that he would be even prouder if he won. If he got a 4.0 this semester. Once, after he said something like that to Ahsoka, she looked at him with that knowing expression only she could produce, and asked him if his mom had ever said anything like that. Technically, no, he conceded, but he couldn't let her down.

He just felt so stupid right now, looking at the pages blanketing his desk. He'd been sitting over them for too long, but he couldn't bring himself to get up and stretch or take a break. He couldn't bring himself to do anything, really, let alone focus. So he was trapped. All he could do was just sit there, drink his Red Bull, and kind of review until he could destroy this exam next week.

Anakin decided to try another practice problem. Maybe that would make it click.

The surface tension of liquid argon is given by--

His phone buzzed against the desk. Putting it on loud was a bad idea, and he knew it. Maybe he was just looking for an excuse. It was probably his mom, saying something else. Or, he hoped as his heart jumped, maybe you were coming from the lab early and wanted to meet and study. Or hook up. Or just talk. Whatever, as long as it didn't involve his textbook. His phone buzzed again. And again.

He gave in and opened it. It was you, he found, and he grinned like a lunatic, but caught himself. Then again, he was alone, so it didn't matter, really.

But then he read your texts.

Where are you We need to talk Now

He typed back immediately, his fingers flying faster than he thought they could.

in my room is everything ok?

He looked at the screen, saw the bubbles pop up that meant you were typing, then watched as they disappeared. Anakin was frozen, his phone in his hand. We need to talk could just have been a poor phrasing on your part, right? It didn't mean what he thought it did, right? He could deny it only for about five more seconds, when the little bubbles didn't return.

Fuck. Anakin let loose a string of curses and dropped his phone on his desk. He couldn't think of a single thing that would warrant ending… whatever the two of you had. But maybe you'd realized that he was doing a lot more than what fuckbuddies (fuckenemies?) should do, that he was an absolute wreck for you, and had been for a long time.

The caffeine was getting to him, and his leg was bouncing so quickly that he swore his downstairs neighbor would submit a noise complaint. His mind started racing with all the things he never would have told you, the things that would go unsaid if you ended what the two of you were doing. He'd never tell you that he had two dogs growing up, strays, or that his least favorite flavor of Skittles was orange. He'd never tell you that he was pretty sure that he hadn't felt this way about anyone, ever, and that he had laid awake for the past two nights thinking about how, if at all, he would tell you.

Ahsoka's voice echoed in his ears, wisps of sound urging him to just say something. His mind was racing, a million trains of thought all colliding at once. He should just tell you. He'd never learn your favorite kind of cereal. He hadn't responded to his mom, fuck. He regretted having that Red Bull. He'd never tell you that he called you baby during sex because he wanted to say it other times, too. The answer to that thermo question was probably 36 Joules. He'd never tell you that if you called him a pet name he'd melt and let you win any competition because nothing would matter anymore.

But that was precisely why he hadn't told you how he felt. Because if you felt the same way about him, that would be so much better than any amount of money or award. And that wasn't the kind of person he could be.

He'd spent so long training to control that wild hurricane of emotions that pulled him through everyday life. Anakin channeled it into perfectly neat parallelized circuits and technically exquisite poomsae, but around you it all let loose, angry and passionate and just so much.

It was terrifying. You were terrifying. And there was a selfish part of him that said that he deserved to let all those feelings loose for once. To feel as much as he wanted to feel because, goddammit, he was so tired of control.

But Anakin was a lot. A handful, his teachers always said. It was what ended his previous relationship, what drove Padme away. Would it drive you away, too?

If you walked up to him in two minutes and asked him what the two of you were, if it was just casual or something more, would he have the self-control not to blurt out exactly what he was thinking? His stomach flipped at the idea of you leaving the room, leaving his life, without knowing how he felt.

You walking away from him and disappearing into another part of the country after graduation would kill him. He was pretty sure that seeing you at a reunion in five years with someone on your arm, some beautiful person who you had never hated, would smite him on the spot.

He imagined himself six months from now, when the thesis was over. What would that Anakin want for himself? Would he let himself say something? Fuck it all, he would say. And he was right.

If you were going to end things, he was going to get this off his chest. He had to. He wasn't sure he could live with himself if he didn't.

The sound of knuckles on wood cut through the silent room like a dagger through his heart. One, two, three seconds passed as he sat in his desk chair, mind totally blank. He tried to produce a coherent feeling or, if he was lucky, an entire thought, but he came up empty.

Before, it was all something nebulous, something he could just worry about. Something he could stress about. Now, it was real. You were behind that door, and you needed to talk. And there was no escaping that. With heavy legs, he dragged himself to the door.

Anakin pretended not to notice that his hand was shaking when he wrapped it around the doorknob.

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The bus ride back to your dorm had been uneventful, other than the way you were staring daggers into the skull of some poor guy in front of you. He had the good sense to not turn around.

Anakin Skywalker is a thief. You clenched your fists, and you could barely feel the sting of your nails in your palms. Barriss wasn't one to lie, based on the past three years you'd spent with her. She told you the facts right after: she overheard one of the graduate students--probably Obi-Wan, but she didn't know who, just some vaguely hot older guy, she said--telling Anakin his idea for a thesis. And then Anakin ran with it.

If she was right, that changed everything. If Anakin really didn't come up with his own idea, that meant he had rigged the competition. He had a leg up this whole time. He really was exactly what you had thought for years. The golden boy of the department who had everything handed to him. And while you'd labored over choosing the perfect, most viable but impressive idea, he had just skipped right over that step. You'd cried over how hard it was to find a good idea, struggled for weeks on end last year, just trying to make something good, let alone great. And he was already weeks ahead of you in the competition.

All of his sweet gestures--staying with you in bed, holding hands in the library, getting you drinks--were suddenly less sweet. Last year, he was in the thesis lab with you, when he was working on his proposal, watching you go through ideas and get upset when they didn't work, and he knew that. And he never told you about where his idea came from, even when you were getting closer. He probably knew it would piss you off, and he still didn't tell you. He'd hidden it from you.

You didn't know if that hurt more or less than the unfairness of his advantage.

The bus slowed to a stop in front of your dorm, and you hopped off, then dashed to the elevator.

You just wanted him to tell you that Barriss was crazy, or misheard. Or anything. Anything to make it not true.

The elevator ride was agony as it whizzed up to his floor.

At his door, you hesitated. If you entered and fought, that made this real. So, so real. The second you walked through that door, everything between the two of you might change.

But you were too furious not to knock. Silence hung for a few seconds before you could hear the door unlock.

Anakin opened it to you, looking unfairly hot. Rage ripped through you as he looked at you with open affection, gesturing to enter his room, like nothing had changed. Like he wasn't lying to you all this time. You stormed in quickly.

"Anakin, I need you to be honest with me." Your voice came out tighter than you wanted as you searched his face for a reaction. He closed the door, then came to stand in front of you.

"I'm always honest with you," Anakin replied earnestly, keeping his gaze locked on yours as he forced a small smile.

You didn't smile back. "How did you come up with the idea for your project?"

"What?" Anakin blinked, caught off guard. He let out a breathy chuckle. "That--that's what you wanted to talk about?"

"Well?" You pressed, crossing your arms. The edge in your voice was obvious, cutting. You could see Anakin go through the stages of realizing what you might mean, and your stomach started to sink even deeper.

Anakin sighed, ruffling his hair in frustration. "I--Really? Okay, fine. There aren't currently any microsurgery tools that mimic human hands. They're all pincers. So I wanted to make one." Your gaze narrowed.

"And you're saying Obi-Wan had nothing to do with it?"

"What are you talking about?" It was probably supposed to sound confused, but it came out more scared. You knew him well enough to tell. God, he was infuriating.

"Did you or did you not get your idea from Obi-Wan?" The words came out like tiny daggers, sharpened steel that you spat at him. His face fell, and you could see the moment that he knew you knew.

"Look, it's not like that," Anakin said, his arms falling to his sides. His eyes were suddenly avoiding yours, like his desk suddenly contained some information he desperately needed, or, preferably an escape hatch.

"Then what is it like?" You shot back, your heart racing. You stepped closer, trying to find an answer in his furrowed eyebrows. "Why can't you just say no?"

Anakin's jaw clenched, and he was obviously searching for the right words. Words that wouldn't piss you off, probably. "Because Obi-Wan helped, I guess."

"You guess?!" Your voice cracked, incredulous.

"I mean--look." Anakin raised his hands defensively. "Sure, Obi-Wan put me on the path to it. But every second in the lab since then has been me. My design, my coding."

"What do you mean put you on the path? You mean he gave you the idea, don't you?" Your frustration with him was boiling over. Even now, he was defending himself, trying to evade this. Justifying. It drove you crazy.

Anakin hesitated, his words faltering. "I--It's not--"

"Are you seriously about to say that it's not that simple or something?" You interrupted, your voice shaking. You threw your hands up, your fury finally reaching its peak. "Because, from here, it looks simple. Like you stole your whole fucking thesis idea!"

"That's not true!" Anakin snapped, his voice louder now. It wasn't the same kind of anger you were used to seeing from him, it was defensive, almost panicked. "Obi-Wan, he just, he suggested I look at applying an old project of mine to microsurgery. And he was right. So, I guess, technically, if you're looking at it like that--sure. He gave me the idea."

You stared at him, his words sinking in. His admission hung between you like a guillotine, its rope finally snapped. The air felt tight, like you were ten thousand miles above sea level and there wasn't enough oxygen to keep you afloat.

Anakin shifted again, his anger gone, his voice softer, pleading. "It's like… I don't know. I guess I feel guilty about it. But I really needed to submit something that day, or I couldn't enter into the competition at all. It was the rules. If I don't do a thesis… I--I don't know. I just had to. And I figured I'd just use that temporarily, and pivot as soon as it was approved, It was in the end of junior spring, and I just couldn't find a topic that worked. That idea I had about hand prosthetics didn't pan out, and I was telling Obi-Wan about it in the lab, and he told me I should look at microsurgery, 'cause they have a lot of the same issues--calibrating movement to user input, holding up to wear and tear, dealing with friction and joint movement--and that I should do my thesis on it."

His eyes finally met yours again, so deep and blue that it almost made you reconsider. Almost. He was pleading, begging you to understand. "So, yeah, I submitted an early version of the idea Obi-Wan gave me. But every second of design, build, everything was me. It's my work."

You stood frozen, silent. After a few long beats, Anakin started to fidget, his hands wringing so hard that his knuckles turned white.

"If I could go back, I'd do something else. Anything else." Anakin's voice wavered, and his shoulders slumped under the weight of his guilt. "I just--I didn't know what else to do. I needed to submit something, anything. I need to win this," he finished, his voice trailing off.

The anguish over being proven right was something you didn't expect. You should have felt vindicated, that you were actually right all along about him. You should have hated him. But instead, you could feel your heart breaking, like a marionette with its strings cut, slumped over and lifeless. If he had just admitted it to you himself, maybe you could get over this. Maybe. But the fact that he hid it from you cut like a knife. Tears welled in your eyes, and your throat was drier than you'd ever felt it. The words fell from your lips softly, like you could barely get them out.

"How could you?" You felt like you'd never known him, like the person in front of you was a stranger. How could he be both this person, and the one who would keep you warm at night?

Anakin noticed the coldness of your gaze, and it gutted him. Anakin's breath caught, and you could see him shatter in real time. His cheek twitched, right under his scar, and you could swear you saw his eyes start to fill with tears. His hands were shaking where they were clasped together, and you were sure he was leaving indents with his nails. His shoulders shook under his panicked breaths.

He didn't speak for several long seconds, his mouth tugging this way and that as he tried to think of something, anything, to say.

"Do you think I'm a bad person?" He asked as he stepped toward you, trying to seek reassurance to keep him from falling apart. But you couldn't give it. You didn't even know him anymore.

"I--" you opened your mouth, hesitating, before you restarted, "I don't know." Your voice cracked, but you hardened it. "I didn't before, but now I'm not so sure."

Anakin took another step closer, reaching out with his shaking hands as if to touch you, but you backed away. His face flushed even more, hurt and frustration jumping across his features. It made you even more angry. "This is so fucking unfair, and you just--you just let it happen."

He said your name, trying to jump in, but your anger surged, and it drowned him out.

"I spent weeks getting my idea just right." Each words was more brutal than the last. "Weeks. And you got everything spoon-fed to you. Everything I worked for--and you just took it from someone."

Anakin flinched like you had struck him, but you were far from done.

"I thought I knew you, I thought I was wrong about you this whole time," you spat, your fists clenching at your sides, "But I was right all along. You're just a fucking cheater."

A tear slipped down the side of his cheek as you continued. Your voice shook as you admitted to him, and to yourself, what the worst part really was. "And you didn't even have the decency to tell me. And that makes you a fucking asshole."

He shook his head, his eyes stinging as he started to speak. "No, please, it's not--"

"Stop it!" You shouted, your voice cracking with emotion. Anakin stood frozen, his outstretched hand falling limply to his side. Your breath rushed through your nose and your pulse beat in your ears. You couldn't even see him anymore through the tears, but you refused to let them fall. To let him see you cry.

He said your name one more time, begging, pleading. For a moment, you were tempted, but the hurt was too big to ignore.

Your voice was cold, distant. "Get away from me," you ordered. Your back was rigid with anger and hurt. "And leave me the fuck alone."

Without waiting for him to respond, you stormed out of the room and slammed the door behind you.

You stalked down the hall as quickly as you could, ignoring the buzzing in your pocket as the tears you were holding back finally poured down your cheeks. You didn't even have the energy to wipe them away, you just let them fall while you punched the button for the elevator.

Only when the door closed, and you pulled out your phone to call Ahsoka, did you see his messages.

please come back we can talk this out please give me another chance

They were all sent minutes apart. You could hear his voice reading them, desperate and thick with tears. Even though you were angry, angrier than you had ever been at him, the idea of him crying still made your chest ache. And then it made you feel vindicated. But then it made you feel horrible again.

You arrived back to the lobby, then crossed the building to the other elevator bank, trying to avoid the awkward gazes the students passing by gave you. You sniffled wetly, wiping away your tears, as you ran up the two flights of steps that brought you to your room. You unlocked the door as quickly as you could, then hid inside.

Your phone buzzed again.

i understand that you don't want to talk, but the second you're ready, i'll be here. i'll always be here.

The words made you sob loudly, and you were thankful for a moment that Ahsoka wasn't home. Until you saw the text, it hadn't hit you that this was the last time you'd talk for a while. You couldn't even remember the last kiss you two had shared. The library? Was that the kiss you wanted this to end on? You'd never see his half-lidded eyes as he worshipped you, never hear him call you baby again.

Why did he have to go and fuck it all up? You asked yourself, sobs wracking your body as you slid down the door. You couldn't tell if you were more sad or angry, but you were definitely heartbroken. Lately, his casual touches, his affection, the way you slept together every night, it was starting to feel like more. But it was all gone now.

You had been numbed with caffeine and stress, but the past week, you felt like you were soaring every time he touched you. Every time he gave you that intense look he always did.

But the two of you were just hooking up. It wasn't supposed to be anything more, and you never thought you'd feel the pull to be with him when you weren't fucking, but it was like gravity. Even now, you wanted him to comfort you. Not someone, but him.

The realization that you had feelings for him hit you like a truck. All the breath was gone from your lungs, gone to some other dimension.

You liked Anakin Skywalker. Even though he was an asshole. Even though he'd hurt you. But those feelings didn't end just because whatever you were had ended, they didn't leave you alone.

You could have been his girlfriend if he hadn't hidden this from you. And that was the last nail in the coffin that made you break down fully.

You sat there, crying, sobbing, wailing, for at least another half hour before you dragged yourself to the shower. It made you feel the tiniest bit better to have your hair clean, your tears scrubbed off your face until the skin went sensitive and ruddy. When the water turned off, it was cold, and you relished the shock to your system.

And then, you started the process of getting over him. You knew you had to do it eventually, and you only had to get through finals before you could go home and forget all about him. Come January, when you next saw him in the lab, it'd be like seeing any other classmate.

That thought was enough to make you start crying again while you stood in the towel you stole from your house. Your tears mingled with the water from the shower, and it was enough to let you pretend that you weren't crying, that becoming strangers with Anakin didn't kill you inside.

You promised yourself that this would be the last time you cried this semester. That night, if you felt the threat of tears, you just threw yourself harder into whatever you were studying. There was nothing else you could do.

At the thermo exam two days later, you walked in later than you usually would for a final that was this important. When you slipped into the class, two minutes before they started passing out test papers, you spotted Anakin in the corner. Because of course you did. Your eyes hadn't stopped finding him in every photo, in every room. He had always been magnetic, and, just because you weren't together anymore didn't mean that stopped. And he was looking right at you.

His gaze ripped through you with some mix of desperation, affection, and sorrow. Anakin looked, in one word, horrible. His eyes were sunken in, red and swollen from crying. Most people would not have noticed, but you knew him too well. His dark circles had come back with a vengeance, like fresh bruises on his otherwise smooth and clear skin. His mouth twitched when he looked at you, like he was going to say something, but he stayed silent as his eyes followed your path.

Throughout the exam, you could feel his eyes on you a couple of times, but you didn't allow yourself to turn around and look. You let the calm of equations and math wash over you, and soon there was nothing but the test. The questions and the precise way you wrote Greek letters in the blue book lulled you into a state of calm you desperately needed.

When you handed in your exam, you allowed yourself another look at Anakin, and then you left the building. You didn't see him before you went on break two days later.

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Two days before break, he saw you again. He hadn't changed his habits, still studied in the dining hall and had meals there, sometimes went to the library, and he secretly hoped, thrummed with anticipation, that maybe, just maybe, you'd be there too. That maybe you'd see him and realize you wanted to talk it out. That, obviously, did not happen. He spent an embarrassing amount of time awake, because you haunted his dreams whenever they came. The disgusted look on your face and the words I was right all along, you're a fucking asshole echoed in the back of his eyelids and his mind's eye whenever he laid down. So, he stayed up. More time to study, right?

He spent most of those 48 hours trying not to cry and failing miserably. Even when he broke up with Padme, it wasn't like this. He was angry, indignant, and, of course, sad, but it was the kind of sadness that settled deep on his shoulders and dulled the world around him. It wasn't the kind of sadness that wrenched sobs from his chest whenever he wasn't careful. It wasn't the kind of sadness that made him regret ever going to this college, ever meeting you.

Ahsoka cast him a funny look at him one night, when he fell asleep in a common room. She gently shook him awake, and noticed the redness rimming his eyes, and the way his hands shook from too much caffeine. She gave him a hug and made him promise to sleep tonight.

He did, and that was the night before the test. Every muscle and joint screamed in protest as he dragged himself from his bed. He arrived fifteen minutes early, just to make sure he got a good seat, and then his head kept swiveling like an owl. Every time the click of the doors opening echoed through the nearly empty lecture hall, he locked onto the person entering. He was pretty sure he'd accidentally given glares to at least four poor souls before you finally entered.

He resigned himself to the fact that he'd probably failed the exam right then.

You were even prettier than he remembered, and the depth of your eyes when you stared at him was enough to make him shudder. Even now, he'd give anything to be with you again. When you sat down and didn't look at him again for the next three hours, he felt bits of his heart break off and get trampled under equations about heat diffusion and air pressure. You turned in your test, and then left, and he looked after you longingly. His eyes snapped back to his paper when he got a weird look from the TA.

He turned in his exam paper, rushed home, and promptly passed out on his bed. You came to him in his dreams, of course. Naked in his arms, lips pliant and wanting under him. The way your tongue peeked out when you were too hard at work, or the shimmer of your eyes when he made you laugh. The betrayal on your face. Get away from me.

He spent the rest of finals in a fugue state, doing tasks and exams because he was supposed to. Then, finally, the last one passed, and he was finally released to go home. He hadn't seen you since the exam, and that was probably better for him, he reasoned.

On day 1 of break, Anakin drove the whole day and listened to absolutely depressing music the whole time. He pulled over once and, in a fit of rage, smacked the steering wheel a few times. How could he be so stupid? How was he this much of an idiot? He sat at the rest stop for another fifteen minutes, his sweaty forehead on the steering wheel. Five hours later, when he arrived home late in the evening, he hugged his mom. Everything felt a little bit better after that. He had dinner with Shmi and Cliegg, even though all he wanted to do was lay in bed and sulk. He fell asleep quickly--he was too exhausted to stay up torturing himself with what could have been.

On day 2 of break, he lay in bed and just generally moped around. He could never be still for long, so that meant getting up to eat snacks, flicking through TV shows listlessly, and trying not to look at the texts you two had exchanged. He only cried twice, once at the thought that you'd never meet his mom, and the other at the memory of your body in his arms as he fell asleep. Both reduced him to hot, silent tears.

On day 3 of break, he did yard work and drove by his old dojang to say hi to his high school coach. He ended up agreeing to teach some lessons over break to avoid having to sit at home alone with his thoughts for three entire weeks. Plus, the money was good. He was pretty sure he wouldn't be getting that thesis prize at all, at this rate. He only cried once, at night, when he thought about having to watch you work in the thesis lab without speaking to you. He wouldn't cross that boundary. You already knew he wanted to talk, and you hadn't texted him back.

On days 4-9, he taught three hours of lessons a day. It was calming, familiar. He only had to splash cold water in his face to avoid getting too upset two or three times per day, but the undercurrent of wondering what you were doing never stopped torturing him. He hadn't touched himself in at least two weeks, and he regularly had to stop his thoughts from drifting away to the last time he was inside you. Every time it happened at home, in bed, he got up and took a cold shower. It served him right. At the end of the week, he went to the mall and bought his mom a Christmas present with the money he earned. Just because he knew his mom wanted to blend their family better, he picked out something small he could afford for Cliegg, Owen, and Beru, too.

On day 10, it was Christmas Eve, so everything was closed. There was nothing to do, so he answered a few emails from Professor Jinn, cleaned the oven, and helped his mom prepare for Christmas dinner. There were files on his device he had prepared specifically to work on his thesis over break, but his project made him nauseous. He'd give it all back for a chance to start over. He'd get a B on his thesis if it would make this pain stop. He didn't touch the files, and, that night, when he finally gave in to the temptation to see if you'd posted anything on social media, he didn't touch his cock, either, even though just an image of you was enough to drive him wild at that point.

On day 11, it was Christmas, and he woke up at 4am in his bed, as hard as a rock. Anakin spent an hour tossing and turning and begging his body to just let him sleep, but, eventually he gave in. It was Christmas, right? He deserved a present. When he closed his eyes, he didn't even try to think of someone else. It was you. It had been for a while. Your little noises as he kissed up your neck, the scrunch of your eyebrows right as you came, and the tight grip of your pussy around him when he buried himself to the hilt inside you were enough to make him cum all over his hand within a minute. He found it embarrassing, honestly, that you had this effect on him. Anakin fell asleep quickly and tried not to feel too gross about what he'd done.

On day 11, attempt 2, he woke up around 11, right before lunch, and came down to wish his mother and Cliegg a merry Christmas. Beru and Owen were supposed to come for dinner, but, this morning, it was just the three of them. Anakin had no particular yearning for Cliegg to be a father figure, he just wanted his mom to be happy. If Cliegg did that, then he'd watch endless movies with the two of them, or get Cliegg a present. But if she didn't want to be with him anymore, Anakin wasn't sure he'd miss him. Their second anniversary was in three weeks, and it was a shock that it had been that much time already. When dinner rolled around, and he greeted Owen and Beru awkwardly, not sure what a person is supposed to say to a newly-acquired sibling. He'd seen them a sum total of maybe ten times, almost all of which had to do with the wedding, so they were in how-was-school and how's-the-new-job and gosh-the-winter-has-been-brutal territory. When Anakin gave them their presents, they seemed overjoyed. He'd gotten them matching scarves, each with their first initial embroidered onto it. It was a miracle they had them in stock at the mall, he thought, but the present seemed to hit the right spot. Cliegg got the aforementioned fishing pole, something his mom had told him he was prattling on about, and he got his mom a beautiful new winter coat. She had been mending hers for years, and water and snow would soak right through it, but when he saw the beautiful down puffer coat in the store window, he knew she'd love it. He was right.

Cliegg got him a Laser Distance Measure, which must have cost a pretty penny, and Owen and Beru got him various engineering gadgets (a nice mechanical pencil for technical drawings and a cable carrying case, respectively). His mother's gift, though, was something he'd never be able to forgive. She had bought him a beautiful, fresh Raspberry Pi set, with 8 GB of RAM. It wasn't the most expensive thing in the world, but the $150 or $200 that it did cost her was enough to make him tear up. He'd mentioned months ago that he was thinking of getting one for some personal projects, something for his portfolio, and she bought it. He had the good sense not to say anything like You aren't supposed to get me presents for Christmas and crushed her in a hug, the kind that whispered I know how much this is worth, and I'm so lucky you're my mom. For a second, he was worried he would cry when he saw the crow's feet appear by her eyes, and he felt how thin the skin on her hands had gotten. When had she gotten so much older? For a terrifying moment, he realized he'd have to live without her one day, but then Cliegg made some comment about how he'd made hot cocoa, and they all gathered around the living room to chat. As the last tendrils of sunlight fell beneath the swath of trees in their backyard, he laughed at something Owen had said, and he felt the tiniest bit less alone. Like maybe it didn't matter if he got an A in thermo or had the best thesis in his year. The notion left him quickly.

On days 12-17, the warm feeling had subsided, and all he could think about was what you were doing. Whether you were moving on, or if you still felt the same way he did. If you wanted him again. The fantasy of you seeing him again and realizing that, oh, actually, you wanted to work it out, and also kiss him, inevitably ended with his hand on his cock and cum on his stomach, then regret and shame for about an hour afterward. Once the studio had reopened, he kept teaching there, but with more hours this time. Also, Anakin could finally open the folder on his computer named Thesis without cringing at it, but barely. His heart still skipped about four beats when he thought about how he'd have to see you practically every day. He pushed thoughts like that from his mind as much as he could. No point in torturing himself more than the actual semester would.

Day 18 was New Year's Eve. He went to a party hosted by some of his high school friends, some rager at a frat house. He just wanted to get drunk, honestly, and this seemed like a great excuse. It was sticky and hot even right outside the door, but the sweaty blast of steam that hit him when someone opened it turned his stomach. But the beer was free, so he wouldn't complain too much. A couple of times, he noticed a girl checking him out over the bone-shaking bass. He might have made a move, if he were a different person. If any one of them was you, or had your smile, or your eyes. As soon as he noticed something that was too different from you, he averted his gaze. They were all cute, he supposed, but that didn't matter. They weren't you. When the countdown started, Anakin retreated, not interested in being pulled into some kiss that stunk of beer. Instead, despite knowing he'd regret it, he sent you a text. happy new year, it read. He blamed the tequila, and went back into the fray of cheering people.

From days 19-24, Anakin kept on keeping. Dishes, teaching, occasional progress on his thesis. He submitted over 20 job applications. Sometime in the week, in his daily rehashing of all your messages, he noticed the read receipt had popped up on his text from New Year's Eve, and he cursed himself. He was cursing himself a lot lately. Especially when he promised he wouldn't jerk off over you, but it always ended up happening. The subtle rock of his hips against the mattress when he thought of you, grinding the hard flesh against the soft material, then the sticky warmth of release and the rush of regret that always came with it. The heat of the shower made him hard when he thought about how he'd always wanted to try fucking in the shower, more specifically, fucking you in the shower. He really shouldn't, he reasoned while his hand pumped his dick.

Day 25 was spent driving again, after he gave his mom a big hug and threw his suitcase in the car. Despite himself, he realized that he was no more over you than he had been on his drive to his house. The fact that he would see you tomorrow still made him perk up and wilt at the same time. In a short twenty-four hours, you'd be real, three-dimensional in front of him again. He wasn't sure what would happen--would you kiss him? Slap him? Combust? He could never tell with you. He wondered if you'd cut your hair over break, or if you'd talked to Ahsoka about him. Whatever fantasies he'd been nursing, they were all going to be proven or disproven tomorrow. So he had to use the hour before he arrived on campus to imagine, as hard as he could, that you were in the passenger seat. That you were his girlfriend. That you had just come from meeting his mom, who had shown you a bunch of truly humiliating baby pictures and had whispered to him that she liked you when you had gone to the bathroom. For the rest of the night, that was the reality he lived in.

You had compared schedules last semester, before things got weird, and you shared only two classes, both of which were on Mondays and Wednesdays. At 10:30, you'd both be in Unsupervised Learning, then at 2:30, you'd both take Dynamic Systems and Controls. When he woke up at 8:30, he showered, then tried to wipe the tiredness from his eyes. He put on a shirt he knew you loved (you'd remarked on how well it fit him, and he didn't see it, but you did, and that was all that mattered) and his most comfortable jeans and hoodie. He secretly hoped you were doing the same kind of preening at home, trying to look good for him, but he didn't let the thought take up too much room in his mind.

At 10:25, when he walked into the lecture hall, he saw you instantly. Time stopped as he felt like someone had just gotten a particularly good hit to his solar plexus, and his whole body was responding, out of breath and weak and dizzy all at the same time. You were in the third row, to the left-hand side of the seats, and you looked more gorgeous than he remembered. How didn't he spend the whole break fantasizing about the way your hair shone or the curve of your neck? Seconds started ticking by again when he realized he was blocking the path to the seats, much to the anger of the group of people behind him. He walked down the steps to the second row like everything was normal, then positioned himself on the other side of the lecture hall. He kept his eyes firmly not trained on you for as long as he could, and, when the professor started droning, he turned to look at you, really look at you.

You had put on just a touch of makeup, something he'd noticed years ago that you always did on the first day of class. It suited you, and you looked well-rested and happy. Like you didn't miss him at all. It gutted him like a fish on the chopping block. What was wrong with him? How could he let you get away?

He turned back to the professor, pretending to be interested in the syllabus. When class ended, by the time he packed up his things, you had gone.

The second class was a repeat of the first, only in a smaller lecture hall. He tried to keep his cool, he really did, but he snuck glances. He was only human.

He didn't go into the lab for the week, mainly because he was almost done with build and was spending most of his time on securing materials for testing. They had their first practice that Monday, so he got dressed and headed over to the Athletic Center, where he grounded himself in the ritual, the calming power of it all. It was amazing to see Rex and Ahsoka again. They always made him smile, something he'd been missing over the break.

Later that week, Ahsoka invited him to your room to talk about that semester's competitions. He hesitated the appropriate amount of time before he accepted. The hallway to your room was achingly familiar, just like he'd seen it in his dreams. Only Ahsoka was home, so she wasted no time before interrogating him about what happened with the two of you.

When he told her the general gist, she had the good decency to be honest and tell him that he was kind of being an asshole by not mentioning it, but that it was normal to get advice from professors and other students. It wasn't ideal for it to be as explicitly grabbed, sure, but the point still stood.

By the time the door opened and you came in (his mind raced--from a date? from class? from some other part of your life that he would never come to know?), Anakin and Ahsoka were discussing taekwondo logistics. You looked gorgeous in the cozy cable-knit sweater you had on, and he hoped against all hope that he wasn't staring the way he thought he was.

You looked shocked for a good second before smiling awkwardly with a little "hey." You retreated to your room almost instantly, and Anakin felt a pit open up, wondering if he'd made you uncomfortable. It wasn't his fault, honestly, but he still felt guilty. He left an hour afterward.

Was this his fate? To watch you from a middle distance as you lived your life? He was trapped, pinned down like a bug, reading into everything he saw. If you were in a four-block radius, his eyes would find you. They always would. In class, he had to stop himself from turning toward you, from studying your features and trying to read anything from them. He never could.

Anakin was still fucking haunted by you, especially now that he was on campus. Everything reminded him of you. The boba place, every inch of your dorm, the emptiness in his mattress. He knew he was hallucinating when he thought he spied you at practice one day, just a wisp of hair in the corner of the room, but, by the time he did a double take, there was only empty floor there.

On Thursday, he got a text from Ahsoka.

Party tomorrow at Cody's. You should come, she had written. He didn't really, actually feel like partying. But he went anyway. Maybe he could spend enough time with his friends to forget about you.

He threw on a nice shirt, some kind of button-up his mom had gotten him, cuffed the sleeves, and set off.

It was a standard-issue party. He'd been to plenty of them, so he figured was ready and prepared for what he'd see and feel. Bass in his eardrums so loud it shook the blood in his veins. Having to scream basic conversation over music. Cheap beer and a sticky floor. Enough heat that his hair would start curling more.

It felt like home. He entered, found Cody and Ahsoka quickly, promising to return after he grabbed a drink. Anakin made his way to the folding table crammed full of bottles, as well as some kind of vile jungle juice, and took two shots. Just enough to stop thinking about you, he hoped.

By the time he fought his way back to Cody and Ahsoka, he was feeling it. Rex had joined them in the meantime, and Anakin joined the little huddle. They were talking (read: yelling "what did you say?" over the music) about one of Cody's dates that week, and Anakin let himself slip into the familiar rhythm of his friends. It was nice, honestly. He only thought of you five or six times, which was a record low.

Then Ahsoka suggested they go get another drink, and, as the four of them pushed back toward the drinks station, he saw you.

You were fucking radiant, and the breath stalled in his chest. You had always been the only thing he ever wanted to look at in a room, even from sophomore year, when you began to piss him off more than anything, but right now, you were a supernova. And he was a moth. He felt his wings get burned off as he traced the curve of your jaw and acknowledged to himself that, yeah, he probably wasn't going to get over you until you were across state lines.

You were wearing some sinfully short, tight dress, which crept higher and higher up your thighs. He could tell you weren't wearing a bra, and something stirred inside of him.

But then he saw the guy standing next to you, leaning in to tell something to your ear. Anakin hated himself for the thought, but he instantly started comparing himself to the guy. What was Mr. Boat Shoes saying to you that made you tip your head back and laugh like that? He remembered when he used to do that, when he would make you throw your head back to do more than just laugh.

Anakin felt his jaw clench and his body start to shake with the same energy that he always had before competitions, coiled like a snake about to strike.

He knew it was a bad idea, he really did. But he was never one to resist bad ideas. He blamed the alcohol. It wasn't that you were his, or some misguided attempt at owning you, but he just couldn't watch this. He couldn't let this feeling tear him apart anymore. When you swatted the guy's chest playfully, Anakin felt his eye twitch, right under his scar. Oh hell no. But he shouldn't. It was your business.

Fuck it.

Anakin started pushing through the crowd, and then he saw the guy lean in, and he saw red.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

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[domjaehyun]

SURVIVING NO NUT NOVEMBER (L.MK, L.DH)

MEMBERS. mark lee x fem!reader x lee haechan

GENRE. smut…that’s it… some humor

WORD COUNT. 28.8k (i’m not apologizing and you can’t make me)

CONTENTS. weed consumption, haechan favoritism (it’s me. what did you expect), explicit smut (slightest of dubcon, chasing kink (? y’all idk), quite a bit of edging/orgasm denial (giving), dry humping, handjobs, blowjobs, cunnilingus, finger sucking, bit of spit kink, unprotected sex, creampie, double penetration, anal, rimming (receiving), overstimulation (receiving), praise kink, some slight degradation, bratty switch!reader, bratty switch!haechan, needy switch!mark, haechan really likes calling you “puppy,” i think that’s it)

NOTES. hi :3 thank you to my love @ncteez​ (hon) for beta reading this for me! i’m on my mark & haechan monster cock agenda thank you very much :)

PLAYLIST. video games - sun // seduce - russ // pth - emanuel

Sunday, November 1st. 

“As usual, I think you’re full of it.” Lia sizes up Haechan, her scrutinizing stare so chilling that it affects you as an innocent bystander simply sitting next to Haechan.

“I’m not,” Haechan fiercely defends himself, jabbing his thumb into his chest emphatically. “I totally did take three edibles and, yes, I did see God! She was not pleased with me,” Haechan finishes in a mumble, scratching the back of his neck anxiously.

“What makes you think you saw God and not, like, her secretary angel or something?” Jaemin asks with a brow raised, and Haechan grimaces.

“What, am I not important or special enough to meet Miss God herself? I got some divine being several rungs down the holy corporate ladder?” Haechan counters, and the silence that falls over your table is deafening. “Wow.”

“Sorry,” Yeji says, shrugging. “It’s not personal.”

“Yeah, well, it sure feels personal,” Haechan grouches. Turning to you, he shakes your arm and whines loudly, saying, “You think I’m important and special, right?”

You look at his plate of food with scheming eyes. “Give me some of your fries and I’ll agree with you.”

“Agree with me and I’ll give you some of my fries,” he says, turning it back on you, and you pause to think. As if to make his deal even more appealing, Haechan holds up a forkful of fries, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. 

“Screw you guys, Haechan is definitely important and special enough to meet God after tripping too hard on edibles.” you say, scowling at every member sitting at the table for good measure. You look at Haechan, waiting for his approval, and he nods with a pleased smile, placing his hand under the fork to catch anything that might fall.

“Say ‘ah,’” Haechan coos, bringing the forkful to your mouth. You roll your eyes in amusement but oblige, letting Haechan feed you the fries. 

“Thank you,” you say with a smile, which he returns. 

“You’re welcome, baby,” he replies casually, watching in satisfaction out of the corner of his eye as you stiffen in surprise, your mind buffering for several moments before it starts working again. He chuckles and nudges you with his knee under the table secretly before resuming his eating. 

“If you two are finished,” Lia says pointedly, and your cheeks warm as you look at her sheepishly. “I was going to say that in honor of November starting today, there’s a challenge I wanna share.”

“Share, please,” you say quickly, eager to switch the attention to someone else. 

“It’s called November, in which I try to make it through every day of November,” she announces proudly, and you point an accusing finger across the table at her.

“You stole that off of Twitter!” you exclaim, and she rolls her eyes.

“I didn’t say it was my challenge,” she replies, and you narrow your eyes suspiciously. 

“I’m onto you.” 

“Okay,” Lia says, dismissive yet amused. 

“I think we should try a monthly challenge,” Yeji suggests. “There’s No Shave November, National Novel Writing Month, No Nut November—”

“Ha!” Jaemin snorts in amusement. “Some of us couldn’t handle No Nut November.” He casts Haechan a side look which is not unnoticed.

Haechan huffs. “Why are you looking at me? I can totally do No Nut November.”

“Sure, you can,” you say, patting his hand comfortingly. 

“Why do you sound like you don’t believe me?” Haechan frowns. 

“Probably because I don’t,” you reply simply, and Jeno snickers into his food.

“You know what?” Jeno puts his fork down and rubs his hands together. “If you can make it through No Nut November, I will give you my entire weed stash.”

Haechan’s brows raise in surprise. “Damn. You really don’t think I can do it.”

“Nope.” Jeno replies, and Haechan huffs.

“You’re on—but I get to pick a buddy,” he proposes, and Jeno shrugs. 

“Sure. I don’t think anyone at this table is willing to go in on that challenge, though.”

When everyone at the table murmurs some sort of agreement, Haechan’s face lights up, visibly getting an idea, and he pulls his phone out, tapping it a couple of times before setting it on the table. 

“Hello?” Mark’s whispering voice comes in through the speaker, and you and Jaemin share a skeptical look.

“Mark?” Lia laughs, begrudgingly falling silent when Haechan shushes her.

“Mark, do you wanna do No Nut November with me this month?” Haechan asks hopefully.

“Hell, no,” Mark’s reply comes out clear as day, making everyone but Haechan stifle a laugh. 

“Aw, come on! Jeno’s gonna give us his entire weed stash if we do it,” Haechan coaxes in a sing-song voice. 

“No way,” Mark whispers back. Several moments pass, everyone at the table growing antsy, until Mark speaks again. “Fine. I’m in.”

“Great!” Haechan says all too loudly. “We’re gonna rock this challenge.”

“Yeah, okay,” Mark replies distractedly. “I gotta go now—I’m in class.”

“Oh, that’s why you were whispering—”

“Whispering, yeah. See you later, dude.” Mark murmurs hurriedly before the phone beeps to signal the end of the call.

“Well, that settles it,” Haechan says happily. “Jeno, get ready to kiss your stash of weed goodbye.”

“Oh, please,” Jaemin snorts derisively, “I bet you’ll be caving on day three.”

“Nope,” Haechan retorts, sticking out his tongue for good measure. “Nothing will fuck with me this month. As a matter of fact—”

“Haechan, don’t you have class, like, right now?” you cut him off, and he looks at the time, his eyes widening. 

Stuffing forkfuls of food in his mouth, Haechan stands up from the table and waves goodbye before rushing off with his plate.

There’s a silence that passes before Lia speaks. “So I feel like it goes without saying that we, as their closest friends, legally have to fuck with them all of November.” 

“‘We?’” Jeno raises his eyebrows in surprise and shakes his head. “I’m not turning them on.”

“Neither am I,” Jaemin says through his mouthful of sandwich. “Unless everyone gets real cool about a lot of things.”

“That also should have gone without saying, geniuses.” Lia rolls her eyes, and Jeno furrows his brows, narrowing his eyes before putting another forkful of ramen in his mouth and chewing. Turning to look at you, Lia continues, “I thought it was obvious that we’d collectively be fucking with them through one person.”

You slowly stop chewing. “Why are you looking at me?” You look at each of your friends. “Why are all of you looking at me?”

“You’re the only one with a weird enough relationship with them where it’d be normal for you to flirt with each other,” Yeji explains. 

“Our relationship isn’t weird,” you say defensively, blanching at the unimpressed look Jaemin shoots you.

“Remember when you first met Haechan and he practically coughed up a lung trying to do that huge bong hit to impress you?” Jaemin reminds you, and you snicker as you think back.

“Yeah, that was funny,” you chuckle, and Lia sits forward.

“Or one of the first times we all hung out and watched the guys play video games and Mark kept dying because he was too busy looking at you?” she recalls, and you purse your lips.

“Okay, maybe it’s a little different from your average friendship,” you mumble reluctantly.

Jeno swallows his mouthful of noodles and points at you with his fork. “Didn’t Haechan call you ‘baby’ earlier?”

“Yeah, and Mark called you ‘babe’ the other day.” Yeji contributes, and you sigh, rubbing your temples. 

“I mean, that was by accident, but I think I get it—” 

“Haechan literally offered you food off of his fork today—” 

“I get it!”

“Wait, that happened?” Lia asks, baffled, and Jeno nods.

“Yeah, he even said ‘open up’ when he put the food in her mouth.”

“Y’all.” You’re losing your patience.

“She actually took—wait, you actually took the food?” Yeji exclaims, and you bang the table with your hand to get their attention.

“I think,” you say slowly, “that I have heard enough about my questionable friendships with Mark and Haechan.” You look at Lia, who’s got the beginnings of a smirk on her lips. “What do I do?”

“Do anything and everything to get them to break during November.” Lia shrugs as if it was obvious.

“What if I can’t get them to cave?” You frown, doubtful of your abilities, and Jaemin waves a hand dismissively.

“That’s okay. As long as they experience mental turmoil and anguish, I’m satisfied.”

“Yeah, blue-ball them as hard as you can.” Jeno chimes in, and you look at each of your friends with a concerned expression.

“What kind of friend group is this?” you mumble, aghast, and Yeji snickers, leaning across the table to pat your hand reassuringly.

“One that enjoys chaos and mischief,” she answers, and you nod slowly.

“That is what I thought I signed up for.” 

“Anyway, you’ll be good at this; I feel like you already know how to flirt with them,” Yeji assures you, and you purse your lips. 

“I do,” you agree. “I’ll make it happen.”

“That’s my girl!” Lia cheers, and you snicker.

“This should be fun.”

 Thursday, November 5th.

“Hey!” Jeno greets you after he opens the door.

“Hi, hi,” you chirp as you enter the apartment and remove your shoes by the door. Jeno shuts the door behind you and takes your bag from your arm before throwing an arm over your shoulder and leading you into the living room. “Hey, guys!” 

Mark barely looks up from his laptop to wave at you, doing a double take before hurriedly sitting up straight and running a hand through his hair.

“Hey!” Mark sounds mildly panicked, looking over your shoulder at Jeno with a pointed stare. “Jeno didn’t tell us you were coming.”

“Sorry,” you and Jeno say, looking at each other. “Must have forgotten.” Jeno finishes with a shrug.

“It’s, uh, no problem, I’m just gonna grab something from my room.” Mark says as casually as possible, standing up and speed walking down the hall.

“That went well,” you murmur, amused, and Jeno nods with his eyes crinkled in delight. “I didn’t even flirt yet.”

Haechan comes into the room from around the corner in the hallway, immersed in something on his phone. “Someone dare me to eat that whole can of spray cheese in the fridge.” 

“I dare you,” you snicker. Haechan’s head snaps up to look at you in bewilderment, eyes comically wide as he lets out an amusingly high-pitched screech. 

“You—when did you—who invited—I mean, not that you can’t come over, but—Jeno didn’t say—” Haechan splutters as you watch him with raised eyebrows before stopping short and standing up straighter. “I wasn’t really gonna eat all the spray cheese, by the way,” Haechan laughs awkwardly. 

“Shame,” you muse, looking at him with a wry smile. “Would’ve been really hot, I think.”

Haechan pauses, regarding you skeptically. “Yeah?”

“Mhm,” you hum with a nod. “It’d be like chugging a beer, but harder, y’know? Pretty impressive.”

“I mean, I can still do it—” Haechan says quickly, pointing at the kitchen as he walks towards it, and Jeno snorts from beside you.

“Haechan?” you call.

“Yeah?”

“I’m kidding.” 

“Oh,” he mumbles. 

“Yeah,” you say, nodding as you walk up to him. You pat his chest gently and smile at him. “I’m not really into kissing dudes who taste like spray cheese.”

“Oh, that’s fair—wait a minute.” Haechan freezes, looking at you with raised eyebrows. “What did you say?”

“You heard me.” You look right back at him with a playfully challenging expression, and the awkwardness fades away from him almost immediately as his lips curl into a smirk.

“So you think about kissing me?”

“Maybe.” Smiling secretively, you watch as his gaze drifts down to your lips. You give him a moment to recover and look back up at you but his gaze doesn’t waver, so you clear your throat pointedly. “Are you done thinking about kissing me?”

“No, gimme another minute.” Haechan breathes out, and you laugh, pushing him back gently.

“I came here to study, not flirt,” you say, lying through your teeth. He grins, wiggling his brows as he walks backwards towards the kitchen.

“You can multitask.”

“Haechan, go eat your spray cheese or something.” You roll your eyes in amusement and turn back to Jeno, reaching out for your bag. He hands it to you and footsteps sound out from down the hall, making you both turn your heads towards the noise.

Mark comes back into the living room wearing a different outfit entirely and with his hair looking considerably better, as if he’d frantically fixed it before returning.

You and Jeno share an amused look as secretly as possible as Mark sits back down in his spot on the couch, resuming his work on his laptop as if nothing’s changed. You walk over to where he sits and point at the spot next to him. 

“Can I sit here?”

“Uh—yeah, sure,” Mark mumbles in mild surprise, scooting over and pushing his stuff over on the coffee table to make room for you.

“Thank you, Mark,” you say with a sweet smile, and he nods, eyeing you as you sit right next to him. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows nervously, and you barely hide your amused chuckle. 

Haechan comes out of the kitchen with a box of Pocky sticks, hesitating as he spots you sitting next to Mark. You pretend not to notice him or the way he narrows his eyes, instead focusing on pulling your laptop out of your bag. 

You keep pretending to be immersed in turning on your laptop as Mark looks up at Haechan, the two of them exchanging an unreadable look in your peripheral vision before Mark leans back on the couch, casually placing his arm behind you on the cushion as if resting on your shoulders. 

You fight down the smirk that threatens to appear on your face as Haechan audibly huffs and walks over to you both, plopping down next to you unceremoniously.

“Hi,” Haechan says with a smile, and you finally turn to look at him as you lean back to rest against Mark’s arm. 

“Hi,” you reply, matching his expression, and Jeno clears his throat awkwardly, apparently no longer wanting to watch you three in silence.

“I’m gonna go grab my stuff and wake up Jaemin.” Jeno informs you three, and you all give some sort of acknowledgement as he heads out of the room. As he walks away, he shoots you a knowing look and grins before disappearing down the hall for what you know to be quite a while—enough time to mess with Haechan and Mark.

“It’s hot in here,” you complain, and Mark looks at you sympathetically.

“Yeah, our heating is stuck in the on setting,” Mark mumbles, and you frown, nodding in understanding.

You already knew that. Jeno told you before you came over, which is why you have something up your sleeve.

“Can one of you help me for a second? Actually both of you.” You sit forward slightly and both of them mirror you, looking at each other briefly before back at you. “I wanna take my hoodie off.” You cross your arms to grab the bottom of it, starting to pull it up and over your head. “Hold my shirt down so I don’t flash you.”

“I mean, I’m not opposed—”

“Haechan, just do it,” you huff, and he sighs dramatically before he and Mark hold the bottom of your undershirt down and you pull your hoodie off, revealing your casual tank top underneath. “Thank you!”

“No problem,” Mark mumbles, struggling to hide the way his eyes are drinking in the sight of your now exposed skin. Haechan, however, experiences not even a modicum of shame as he eyes you. You smile before yawning and stretching your arms over your head, letting out a small moan of relief that makes both of them stiffen and peek at you out of the corner of their eye.

You may have felt a little ridiculous when you hammed up the moan, but the response is so rewarding that you no longer regret it.

“You, uh, want some?” Haechan mumbles awkwardly, practically shoving the box of Pocky in your face.

“Sure,” you reply easily, and some of the confidence returns to his demeanor as he takes one out and puts the end between his lips. “You’re kidding.”

He shakes his head, raising his eyebrows expectantly.

You roll your eyes in amusement, not bothering to hide your smile as you lean closer and pinch the chocolate-covered end of the stick, breaking it off and biting it with a teasing grin.

Mark chuckles in amusement as Haechan glares at you petulantly, sitting back against the couch in a huff. 

“Aw, don’t be upset, Haechan.” You cup his chin and mirror his frown. “Even though you’re cute when you pout.”

“I am?” he asks with a small amused smile, and you nod.

“You are.”

Mark clears his throat pointedly from beside you, carrying on with working on something on his laptop, and you shift your attention to him as he continues to attempt to conceal his jealousy.

“Mark, you’re cute, too,” you assure him with a small laugh.

He looks over at you, feigning nonchalance, and chuckles dismissively.

“I’m not cute, dude.”

“You’re right,” you muse, leaning against him for a moment as you think. “How about ‘handsome?’”

“Handsome, uh—handsome works,” Mark agrees, a small smile on his lips. 

“Okay, handsome.”

“What about me?” Haechan complains, waving his arms in what looks suspiciously like the beginnings of a temper tantrum.

“She already called you cute,” Mark mumbles under his breath.

“Yeah, well, I didn’t get called ‘handsome.’” Haechan bites back.

“You’re acting like a spoiled child.”

“That’s rich coming from Mr. ‘I’m Going to Clear My Throat for Attention.’”

“That’s a stupid comeback and you know it.”

“Guys.” You look between them with growing amusement.

“What’s stupid is the fact that you won’t ask for the attention you clearly want.”

“Haechan!” You look at him in surprise.

“I’d rather that than whine and stomp my feet like an immature brat.” Mark counters, and your eyes widen even more.

“Mark!”

“I will piss in your bed.” Haechan threatens, and you decide the fighting has gone on for long enough. 

“You know what? I’m going home,” you sigh, and both their heads snap to look at you.

“Why?” Haechan asks, clearly objecting.

“You just got here!” Mark exclaims.

You gesture between the two of them. “Your fighting is making me uncomfortable.” You frown.

“We’ll stop,” Mark assures you, and Haechan nods in agreement.

You look at both of them skeptically before sighing. “Fine.”

You three fall into silence as Mark works, you pretend to work, and Haechan just stares at his phone while munching idly on Pocky sticks.

You decide to break the silence and mess with them a little bit.

“You know, I have a confession,” you say, not looking at either of them. “It was actually kind of hot to have two guys fighting over me.”

“Oh, yeah?” Haechan muses, locking his phone and leaning forward slightly to see you better. Wetting his bottom lip with his tongue, he watches you with a considerably more intense gaze than earlier.

Mark eyes you curiously before he slowly closes his laptop and turns fully to look at you.

“Mhm,” you murmur, leaning back against the couch cushions and looking between the both of them. “Before you two started going for each other’s jugulars, I mean,” you explain. “I kinda like it when you two pay attention to me at the same time.” You shrug and Mark chuckles.

“Careful, or we’ll think you’re suggesting a threesome or something.” Mark warns you. You raise your eyebrows.

“And if I said I am?” Your question makes him and Haechan freeze, the two of them looking at each other before looking back at you.

“I’d say to be careful before you bite off more than you can chew.” Haechan says slowly, his gaze shifting into something more suggestive, more intriguing.

“I can handle myself.” You smile innocently, and Haechan snickers.

“You can handle both of us?” Mark asks, eyebrows raised skeptically as he regards you. There’s an unusual amount of confidence in his voice, but you can’t honestly say that you dislike it.

“I can multitask.” You echo Haechan’s words from earlier, and Haechan chuckles, resting his hand on your knee.

“I think this is more than you’re expecting,” he says, eyes scanning your face carefully—for what, you don’t know. Seemingly finding what he’s looking for, he slips his hand up higher on your leg, fingers running along one of the rips in your jeans.

“Way more,” Mark agrees, and there goes that damn cocky undertone again, riling you up even more than you already are.

“It’s a shame you guys are doing that No Nut November thing,” you sigh, looking at both of them in turn. 

There’s a tense silence for a moment, and Mark and Haechan appear to be having a wordless exchange. 

“Why is that?” Haechan asks, his voice lower and, to your surprise, far more serious than you’d expect.

“Haechan, why do you think?” You raise an eyebrow.

“Dude, you are such a tease,” Mark laughs in surprise, and you roll your eyes.

“Mark, if I very seriously asked you to fuck me right now, do you think you’d be able to stop calling me ‘dude?’” you ask, looking Mark dead in the eyes.

“Oh, shit,” Mark mumbles, eyes wide as he looks away, back to behaving more like the less forward Mark you’re used to. You bite back a laugh and look from him to Haechan, who’s staring at fingers as they play with the strings in the stylistic rips in your jeans.

“Are you done staring at the little bit of skin you can see through the holes in my jeans?” you ask with a teasing lilt, and Haechan manages to tear his gaze away from said skin and look you in the eyes.

“Sorry,” he chuckles, not sounding apologetic in the slightest. “It makes me feel like a Victorian man seeing a goddamn ankle,” Haechan mutters under his breath, and you snicker, leaning in closer.

“If you want, I’ll let you see more than just an ankle.” you hum, and Haechan blinks at you with wide eyes.

“Where is all of this coming from?” He’s quick to ask, baffled, and you shrug nonchalantly.

“I’m feeling…needy,” you sigh, tipping your head back onto the couch with a huff, and Mark splutters in surprise.

“Needy how?” He looks up at Haechan for a moment before cautiously draping his arm around you like he had earlier, leaning into the couch so your sides are pressed against each other. Haechan mirrors his position but uses one hand to trail up and down your thigh, his eyes on you as they wait for you to say more.

“Needy like…I need to be touched.” you say, frowning, and Mark inhales sharply, studying your face.

“How do you want us to touch you?” Mark asks, but, once again, his tone is entirely different. Instead of hesitant and cautious, Mark sounds teasing and confident once more, and the shift is entirely welcome and incredibly exciting.

“I want you to do whatever you want,” you reply sincerely, and Mark’s lips quirk up into a budding grin as he looks past you to Haechan, who’s already looking at him with his brows raised. They exchange several looks in silence and you lose your patience and huff loudly, regaining their attention once more. “Stop talking secretly!” you complain, and Haechan snickers fondly, tucking a finger under your chin and turning you to look at him.

“Sorry, baby,” he murmurs, smiling at you. “We were just figuring out what we’re gonna do to you.” His words ignite a fire in you, arousal stirring in the pit of your stomach as Mark’s hand comes to rest on your upper thigh. You sneak a peek at both of their laps, noting with satisfaction that there’s definitely something straining against the front of their pants.

They’re so easy to rile up that it’s almost laughable, really, but you suppress your amusement, saving it for later.

“Did you figure it out yet? I’m not a patient girl, you know.” you say as you place a hand on their laps, dangerously close to the bulges in their pants.

Mark closes his eyes and exhales slowly, while Haechan pushes his hips up, urging your hand to slip down towards his clothed erection. You oblige and rest your hand on top of where he wants you, feeling the side of his length pressing against his sweats.

“We’re gonna—” Mark starts, but Jaemin shuffles into the room and effectively silences Mark. Jeno appears behind Jaemin, shooting you an apologetic glance before following him into the kitchen.

“Good morning, Jaemin,” you greet, amused as he emerges from the kitchen with a bag of chips, sleepy eyes regarding you before he smiles and lifts the bag of chips in lieu of a wave as he approaches the couch.

You remove your hands from Haechan and Mark (even though he seems not to notice your hand placement) and smile up at Jaemin innocently as Mark and Haechan surreptitiously conceal their laps. Jaemin extends his hand holding the chips to you in a silent offering, and you beam at him and reach into the bag, pulling out a couple of chips.

“Was I interrupting something?” Jaemin asks in a drowsy voice, looking between you suspiciously, Mark, and Haechan, the latter two sitting stiffly with their laps covered. 

“Well—” Haechan starts, but you stuff a chip in his mouth to shut him up.

“Nope.” You shake your head and smile innocently. Jaemin smiles lazily and plops down on the couch next to Haechan with a sigh of relief. You and Jeno exchange subtle looks before you pat Mark’s and Haechan’s thighs twice and stand up. “I’m gonna use the bathroom.”

As you pass by Jeno and head towards the bathroom, you hear Jeno say something about forgetting his stuff in his room and then the sound of footsteps trails after you.

“I’m sorry,” Jeno loudly whispers to you, and you stop in the middle of the hallway, turning to face him.

“What even happened?” you question, mildly amused at the unfortunate timing of the situation.

“Jaemin got hungry and was all like, ‘I don’t care about the bet right now, I want chips,’” Jeno explains with a roll of his eyes.

“I can’t blame him. These chips are good,” you mumble as you put the rest of the chips in your hand in your mouth.

“Did he come in way too early?” Jeno asks worriedly, and you frown pensively as you think back.

“Yeah,” you admit, Jeno sighing sadly. “Mark was just about to tell me what they were gonna do to me.”

“Damn,” he mumbles. “Well, I noticed they got hard! So job well done.” He claps your shoulder and you flinch. “Sorry; too hard?”

“Too hard.” You rub your shoulder with a wince. “Hey, Jeno?”

“Hm?”

“Can I borrow your laptop charger? I forgot mine at home.”

“Sure,” he agrees readily. “Hey, maybe you can ask one of them for help plugging it in,” he suggests with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

You look at him with a blank expression. “Jeno?”

“Yeah?”

“The charger.” 

“…Right.”

 Thursday, November 12th. 

you: maaaark are you alive

mark: i’m alive haha i’m in class

mark: what’s up?

you: i miss you :( 

mark: really?

mark: cute

you: when does your class end?

mark: 2:15

mark: wanna hang out after?

you: y e s i’ll meet you at the shuttle?

mark: you got it

mark: see you in a bit

“Mark,” you sigh dramatically, leaning against him in the shuttle bus’s seat. “Wanna smoke when we get back to your place?” You wiggle your eyebrows encouragingly. 

Mark snickers, nudging you away from him with his shoulder. “Yeah, but I’m running out of weed, so I might have to match you next time,” he answers and you wave him off.

“I got it,” you assure him.

“Oh, dope—then sure,” he agrees with a little nod and you smile widely at him before resting your head on his shoulder. He stiffens slightly and you bite back a laugh, craning your head to look up at him.

“Mark, you’re blushing.” you point out, gently touching his reddened cheek, and he shifts in his seat, pushing your cheek with two fingers so you’re looking away from him.

“Shut up,” he mumbles with a nervous laugh, and you decide to have mercy and oblige, pulling out your phone and opening TikTok to scroll aimlessly until you reach your stop. 

As you settle in by Mark’s windowsill and pull out your bowl and weed from your bag, Mark chuckles in mild surprise. 

“Do you always carry your bowl around during the day?” he asks as he moves to sit across from you in the windowsill.

You nod. “Gotta stay prepared.”

Mark watches as you meticulously pack the bowl with weed and scoot closer to him, offering him the first hit. 

“Nah.” Mark shakes his head and gestures to you. “Ladies first.”

“Such a gentleman, Mark,” you hum before lighting the bowl and taking a long hit. The smoke constricts your throat, threatening a cough, but you only let out a small huff, smoke coming from out of your nostrils as you scrunch your eyes closed. “God, that first hit never gets easier.”

“Tell me about it,” Mark chuckles as he takes the bowl and lighter from you. He takes a tentative hit, his face screwing up as he struggles not to cough. “Fuck, dude.”

“I know,” you murmur soothingly as he gives into the urge and coughs, smoke billowing around both of you as he empties his lungs of the smoke and fills them with fresh air instead. “Want some water?” You reach in your bag, handing him your Camelbak bottle which he takes readily, bringing it to his lips and sucking through the straw. His tiny coughs taper off gradually as he takes intermittent sips and he finally seems to recover, throwing his arm over his eyes as he groans loudly. “What’s wrong?”

“That was so lame of me, dude,” he half-chuckles, half-groans, and you tsk disapprovingly, moving his arm from over his face.

“I’m not gonna judge you for coughing when you smoke, Mark,” you say sincerely, and his face relaxes slightly as he looks at you with bright, hopeful eyes. “I cough all the time!”

“Yeah, but I just feel like it’s not cool for me to be having whole coughing fits, y’know?” Mark mumbles shyly, and you pat his knee comfortingly, squeezing it to get his attention. 

“Mark, I think you’re very cool,” you assure him.

He shoots you a funny look. “Really?”

“Well—no, not really.” you admit, and Mark frowns, opening his mouth to complain, but you shush him before continuing, “But I never thought any of you guys were ‘cool,’ to be fair.”

“I guess I’ll take that,” he sighs with a small chuckle. 

“Wanna try something that might help it go down easier?” you suggest with a raise of your eyebrows. 

Mark looks at you skeptically. “Sure,” he agrees tentatively.

You take the bowl and lighter back from him, take as big of a hit as you can manage, and lean in close to Mark, slowly exhaling the smoke into his mouth. Mark’s eyes flutter shut gradually and his hand moves to your waist, clutching you to keep you in place. When you finally pull back from him, he leans after you, his grip on your shirt tightening, and you fight back a smile, clearing your throat softly.

“Whoa.” Mark mumbles, and you nod, already feeling a bit calmer and fuzzier than earlier. “Hey, does that actually work?” Mark wonders, eyes glazed over, and you shrug.

“I don’t really know.” you admit, “I just know it’s fun.”

“It definitely is.” He nods in agreement, and you smile. “Can we, uh…” he starts, trailing off and avoiding eye contact. 

“You wanna do it again?” you ask, and he gives a small nod with a laugh, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. You take another hit of the bowl and scoot closer to Mark who, to your surprise, gently urges you onto his lap. When you lean in to blow the smoke into his mouth, he tilts his head to the side slightly, groaning quietly as you shift forward on his lap and your hands come to rest on his shoulders. 

This time, when the smoke runs out, you don’t move right away, noticing as his hands move to pull you closer, one hand pressed to the small of your back and the other resting between your shoulder blades, pulling you so close that you’re chest to chest. Testing the waters a bit, you lean forward just a bit more and graze your bottom lip against his.

Mark’s hand on your upper back moves to the back of your neck and pulls you in immediately, Mark connecting your lips with a groan of pleasure and, if you’re not mistaken, relief. He kisses you like he’ll never get the chance to do it again, with desperate nips of your bottom lip and eager movements of his tongue, which trails along your bottom lip with an air of impatience, prodding at the seam of your lips until you part them for him with a small content sigh. 

Mark’s hand on the small of your back slips down just a bit lower, resting just above your ass, and you lift your body up ever so slightly, urging his hand to drop lower so it’s directly where you both know he wants it to be. He grunts into your mouth, his hand squeezing your ass firmly as you sit back down on his lap. 

It’s when you suck gently on his tongue that his senses seem to return to him, Mark’s kissing growing more hesitant and nervous until he’s finally pulling away with a worried look on his face. If he hears the small whine of disappointment you let out, he doesn’t comment on it, instead opening and closing his mouth with no words coming out.

“I am so sorry—” he finally gets out, and you can’t help but roll your eyes and chuckle fondly.

“Mark.” you say pointedly, and he stops spluttering incoherently long enough to look at your amused expression. “What about that kiss made you think I didn’t like it?”

He shifts his gaze away from you and you make a sound of disapproval, prompting him to return his gaze to yours. You drape your arms over his shoulders, locking your fingers behind his neck, and look him directly in the eyes. 

“I thought I was coming on too strong,” Mark explains, and you roll your eyes—this time, for him to see—and rock your hips forward on his lap ever so slightly. He groans in surprise and grabs your hips with both hands, eyes widened slightly.

“I wish you’d come on stronger,” you say with a small wry smile, and he blinks at you in shock.

“For real?”

“For real.” You nod in confirmation, and he scans your face, gaze lingering on your lips. 

He wets his lips which, to your satisfaction, are still glistening from the previous kiss, and leans forward, tentatively connecting your lips again. You sigh in mild frustration, wanting more of the rougher Mark from earlier, and curl your fingers in the hair on the nape of his neck, tugging. A groan filled with need sounds out from his chest and he pushes forward more forcefully, kissing you with more passion and less hesitancy.

“Good, Mark,” you breathe encouragingly when you part to breathe, resting your forehead against his. “Just like that.”

He doesn’t even let you finish catching your breath as he captures your lips, the combination of his passionate and needy kissing and the weed in your system working to create a dizzying high feeling in your head.

Mark pulls back slightly and you whine, chasing after his lips. The chuckle he lets out is so deliciously cocky—smug, even—that you find yourself stunned by the version of Mark sitting under you right now.

“Want more?” he murmurs in a teasing lilt, and you nod, clutching the front of his shirt with one hand and pulling him closer to you. His hands slide up and down from your hips to your waist in soothing motions, directly contrasting the almost ruthless way he kisses your lips. 

You don’t know how long you two sit there kissing, but you do know that when you break the kiss to breathe, it feels like you’ve been underwater with how desperately you suck in air. 

“You’re good at that,” you say with a smile, and Mark chuckles, his hands never ceasing their motions on your sides. 

“Thanks. You are, too,” he replies with a small crooked grin. A brief silence falls between you two as you sit back slightly, resting your back against the side of the windowsill until a stirring feeling in your stomach draws your attention. 

“Hey, Mark?” you break the silence.

“Hm?”

“Do you have any snacks?”

“Snacks?” To say Mark seems confused by the shift in topic is an understatement.

“I just got really hungry.” You frown slightly, and he chuckles.

“Did the munchies hit you that fast?” Mark asks with an amused smile, and you shrug.

“I don’t know, but I want something to nibble.”

“Well, you’re in luck, because I want something, too,” he announces, sitting up slightly. You shift off his lap, quickly taking the last hit of the bowl and putting the smoking embers out, and take his hand when he offers it to you, following after him to the kitchen.

“Do you guys have fruit snacks still?” you ask, rooting through the cabinets.

“Yeah, we just bought some the other day,” Mark answers as he comes up behind you, reaching past a container of protein powder and box of cake batter to retrieve the box you’re looking for.

“Thank you,” you say, taking the box from his hand and pulling out a pack of fruit snacks. Ripping open the small package, you pop two fruit snacks in your mouth, chewing happily.

“You and your sweet tooth,” Mark chuckles, shaking his head as he grabs a bag of chips and starts eating them.

“I do not have a sweet tooth,” you reply defensively, and he raises his eyebrows.

“We have to keep our house stocked with gummies and sweet snacks otherwise you won’t come over, and you think you don’t have a sweet tooth?” Mark asks with a skeptical raise of his eyebrows, and you frown.

“Shut up.” 

“I’m just saying!”

“Shut up! Changing the topic. Why do y’all have cake batter if you don’t even bake?”

“Jaemin says he’ll get around to it one day.”

“Sure he will.” you scoff in amusement, popping another fruit snack in your mouth.

“He will if he makes it a weed cake.”

“Now that I believe.”

“Same,” Mark laughs, propping himself up on the counter across from you.

You pat the spot next to you. “No, come sit here.” Mark grins and complies, hopping up and sitting himself on the counter beside you. “Want a fruit snack?”

“Sure,” Mark replies with a shrug. You reach in the bag and pull out a strawberry one, frowning before putting it back. “I like the strawberry ones!”

“Yeah, me too,” you say. “That’s why you’re not getting one.”

“Evil,” Mark laughs, and you pull out an orange one and offer it to him. “You’re lucky I like the orange ones.”

“They taste funny to me,” you shake your head in disgust just thinking about it, and Mark snickers, reaching a hand out for the fruit snack. “No, open.” You place the fruit snack just in front of his lips.

“Are you serious?” Mark raises his eyebrows skeptically, and you nod. “Alright,” he mumbles, opening his mouth and letting you feed it to him.

“Cute,” you chuckle, popping another fruit snack in your mouth. When you pull out an orange one again, you feed it to Mark, who accepts it with no qualms.

“I don’t know if I’m just high, but you know what I wish I could have right now?” Mark pipes up, and you turn your head to look at him. “A Krabby Patty.”

“No, because why do they always look so good?” You turn your whole body towards Mark, whose eyes light up.

“Right?! Dude, Spongebob was such a good show.” Mark sighs, and you give him a funny look.

“Was? It’s still on the air,” you point out, and he gives you a baffled look. “I mean, the original creator left the show, so it’s not as funny, but it’s still pretty amusing.”

“Dude, I had no idea.” Mark’s eyes are wide with surprise before his expression shifts to hopeful. “Yo, do you think we could—”

“Yes, we can watch Spongebob.” you answer with a laugh, and Mark grins at you. “I’m pretty sure it’s marathoning on Nickelodeon in a couple minutes from now.”

“Oh, dope,” Mark mutters excitedly, hopping off the counter, grabbing the bag of chips, and heading to the living room.

You follow after him with a small mischievous smile, a scheme to mess with him already brewing in your mind.

“Wait. You wanna sit here?” Mark asks, baffled, and you smile, nodding innocently.

“Yep,” you say, popping your lips on the “p.” “Can I?”

“Sure, I guess.” Mark mumbles, and you place yourself on his lap sideways so your legs drape over his thighs. “Oh.”

“Good?” you ask, and he nods, staring down at your legs with wide eyes. 

“Great.” He sounds a bit breathless, and you manage to withhold your laugh. 

“Then pay attention,” you hum, jerking your chin towards the television. He nods jerkily and complies, pressing the mute button on the remote to unmute the volume and letting his hand fall back to his side.

You wait for the perfect time to strike, biding your time by watching the television as Spongebob plays, and the opportunity finally presents itself.

The first episode ends and the commercials start to roll before the next episode, making Mark look at you.

“You wanna watch the next one?” he asks, visibly hopeful.

“Yeah,” you hum, studying his lips. “Lemme get more comfortable, though.”

“Yeah, sure—oh,” Mark grunts when you shift on his lap, the underside of your thigh rubbing against the front of his sweats. 

“You say ‘oh’ a lot.” 

“You do things that make me say ‘oh’ a lot.” Mark replies, and you smile, pleased that he’s taken the bait.

“Oh, yeah?” you muse, resting your head on his shoulder and tracing over the silver chain around his neck. He shivers under your gentle touch, and your smile widens. “What do I do?”

“You, uh—” Mark cuts himself off, gesturing at your position. “You sit on me.”

“I sit on Lia sometimes and she doesn’t say ‘oh.’” you point out.

“That’s different, and you know it.”

“Whatever. You only explained one of your ‘oh’ moments today. What about the other one?” you press, and you watch Mark balk.

“You…moved on my lap.” 

“I can’t move now?” You raise an eyebrow. He’s walking right into your trap.

“You moved a certain way,” Mark tries desperately to explain without actually explaining, but you’re on a mission.

“What way was that?” you ask in a soft voice. Mark doesn’t answer, instead swallowing thickly, so you tug gently at the silver earring in his lobe, smiling with satisfaction when the beginnings of a moan eke out from his lips before he covers it up by clearing his throat. “You know what? I’ll help you out if you can’t find the words.” you offer, watching Mark carefully as he nods immediately.

“Please.”

“Was I moving like this?” You shift yourself on his lap again, the underside of your thigh now pressing against the front of his pants. Mark opens his mouth to speak, but you’re not done. “Or was it more like this?” You move back slightly to distribute your weight more evenly on his lap, trying to hide your smile when you feel his length starting to stir.

“Please stop moving,” he says through clenched teeth, his eyes closed, and you let out a small ‘hmph’ of dissatisfaction.

“Why?” You look directly at him, waiting for him to meet your gaze. He does after a moment of tense silence, eyes flitting between your eyes and your lips. “Hm?” you hum softly, encouraging him to speak.

“Because it’s, um—it’s kind of—” Mark mumbles, looking strained.

“Oh,” you say slowly in surprise, deciding to spare him from saying the actual words. “Is it turning you on, Mark?” 

“Yes,” he grumbles reluctantly, and you smile widely, leaning closer to murmur directly into his ear.

“Good.”

He whips his head around to face you so abruptly that you don’t have time to move back, his lips brushing against the corner of your mouth accidentally.

“Shit—sorry,” Mark stammers, eyes wide and nervous as if you two hadn’t just made out in his room less than an hour ago.

“It’s okay, Mark,” you laugh, waving his apology off dismissively. “I kinda liked it.”

“…Kinda?”

“By ‘kinda liked,’ I mean ‘really liked,’” you correct yourself, and he blinks at you as he visibly buffers.

He looks down at his lap for a moment, brows furrowing in thought, before he speaks next.

“Enough for me to do it again?” His voice is lower, almost hushed, and the question hangs in the infinitesimal space between you two. “Like, properly this time?”

You don’t answer him verbally yet, instead placing a finger under his chin and turning his head so he’s facing you. You stare pointedly at his lips, the bottom of which he starts to nibble nervously.

“On one condition.”

“What?”

“You do it like earlier. Don’t do it like you’re scared of me,” you murmur lightheartedly, and Mark gives a small chuckle, nodding in agreement.

“Deal.” And his lips are on yours in an instant. It takes him absolutely no time to reposition you, maneuvering you so you’re straddling his lap with your knees on the couch on either side of him. One hand falls to your hip and the other slides behind you to grip your ass firmly. He kisses you like he’s got something to prove—purposeful and skilled movements of his lips and deliberate, dizzying flicks of his tongue have you almost forgetting your objective, your mind slowly melting into putty.

He sucks on your bottom lip just as you rock your hips forward onto him, and he breaks the kiss to look down at your laps and back up at you with a heavy-lidded gaze, wetting his lips before speaking.

“Do that again.” 

“Yeah?” you ask, a bit breathless. Mark’s kissing skills manage to take you by surprise a second time, to say the least. “This?” You muster enough sense to tease him once more, grinding against his lap and whining with pleasure when your core drags against his gradually hardening length.

“Fuck, yes,” Mark groans, leaning in to kiss you again. He adjusts his grip on you, moving both hands to hold your hips, and he guides you in your fluid, rhythmic movements against his lap. 

It’s not long before he feels fully hard under your ministrations, the size of his length also something that takes you by surprise, and he shudders with pleasure, his lips moving down to kiss and suck at your neck as you grind against him.

You almost feel bad for what you’re about to do. 

Almost.

You tip your head back, allowing him more access to your neck, and press your hips down against him just a bit harder, urging both of you towards a climax.

“Mark,” you whimper, moving one hand from his shoulder to slip between you two and massage your clit through the thin fabric of your leggings and underwear. “Feels so good—”

Mark looks down at your hand moving against your core and hisses in surprise, evidently pleased by the sight. “God, I think I’m gonna—”

“Me too,” you pant, moving your fingers faster and harder as you dip your head lower to kiss Mark’s neck and suck pretty love bites into the skin. “Oh—oh, my God—” The pleasure builds and builds until it’s almost unbearable and the coil wound up tight in your stomach finally snaps, your orgasm washing over you, the intensity ebbing and flowing with every now erratic movement of your hips. 

Mark’s fingers dig into your hips so hard you suspect you’ll feel sore there later, and you keen lowly against his pulse point, collecting yourself for the next step of your plan.

“Wait—” You stop rocking your hips abruptly, and Mark’s head snaps up to look at you in a mix of alarm and confusion. “Aren’t you doing No Nut November?”

“I—well—yeah,” he stumbles through the sentence as his hips roll up, lifting you up slightly. 

“Then we should stop, right?” You raise an eyebrow, and the strained look on his face is almost enough to make you take pity on him and stop teasing him.

“I mean—” he says slowly, and you smile, slowly continuing your movements.

“What if you just forget about the bet for a bit, yeah?” you coax breathlessly, and he groans weakly.

“I can’t,” he grunts, a tortured frown on his face.

“Why not?” you coo, moving to speak against his ear. “I won’t tell.” You bring his hand up to cup your breast, Mark’s eyes bulging before he kneads it slowly.

“I could, but—” he mumbles, and you grind down harder in encouragement. “No, I’d—shit—I’d feel so guilty.”

“Oh, Mark,” you sigh sympathetically, “you’re too good. Don’t you wanna try and be just a little bad for once?”

“Yes,” he stresses the word desperately, looking up at you with a conflicted expression. “So fucking bad,” he grunts, his hips lifting up again. “But—”

“But you can’t,” you finish for him with a pitying sigh. “I get it. Guess that means I should stop, then, huh?”

“I guess so,” he mumbles, visibly flustered and sounding slightly disappointed. You nod, pat his shoulder amicably, and climb off his lap, standing up and stretching your limbs, the after-buzz of your climax creating a bit of a fuzzy headspace you wouldn’t mind staying in for a while. “Wh–where are you going?” Mark asks when you grab your bag from the other end of the couch, and you turn to him with an apologetic frown.

“I totally forgot I have an essay due this weekend,” you say sadly, the lie rolling off your tongue with ease. Truthfully, you do have an essay due this weekend; it’s just already done and you didn’t forget. “I gotta go crank it out.”

“Oh…yeah, okay,” Mark agrees after a pause, clearly dazed but nodding in understanding. “Good luck with it.”

“Thanks, Mark!” you say cheerfully before turning on your heel and making your way out of his apartment. When you shut the door behind you, you lean against the wall and exhale slowly, overwhelmed. You definitely didn’t anticipate that going as far as it did, but you can’t say you’re complaining at all. 

All you know is Mark has one hell of an erection to make disappear, and you wish you could be a fly on the wall to witness it.

 Monday, November 16th. 

“Hey, how’s Mission No Nut November going?” Lia asks as she, you, and Yeji take the elevator up to the guys’ apartment.

“Oh, great. I got them both last week—even though Jaemin interrupted—and I got Mark good on Thursday.” you answer proudly, and Yeji snickers.

“I heard about Thursday, from Jeno,” she pipes up. “He said when he came home, Mark was watching a bunch of pimple popping videos to make his boner go down.”

“That’s rich,” Lia snorts. “Speaking of Mark, I’m pretty sure he told me he wasn’t gonna be at the smoke session today; I think he has a project due this weekend.”

“Yeah, he told me, too. Pretty sure he’s camped up in the library as we speak,” you sigh, shaking your head solemnly.

“Well, now you get some one-on-one time with Haechan,” Yeji points out, and you smile, feeling mischievous. The elevator dings and the doors open, the three of you heading down the hall to their apartment.

“Very true. For your sake, y’all should avert your eyes.”

“Oh, dear God.” Yeji mumbles.

“It’s so worth it,” Lia assures her, knocking on the door. Barely any time passes before it opens, Jaemin standing there with a suspiciously wide grin on his face.

“I see someone dipped into their secret stash before we got here,” you say with a laugh, and he just nods with the same dopey smile, the four of you standing in place. “Jaemin?”

“Hm?”

“Can we come in?”

“Sure,” he answers. He doesn’t move.

“Um…Jaemin?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you let us in?” 

“Sure,” he replies. He still doesn’t move. 

Lia sighs.

“Jaemin.”

“Hm?” 

“Let us in. Move. Open sesame.” you say, waving your hand in front of his face. He blinks twice before making an “o” shape with his mouth.

“Sure, yeah, my bad.” he moves to the side, letting you three trail in and get comfortable, putting your coats away and removing your shoes.

You see Jeno setting up the bong on the coffee table while Haechan sits on the couch, scrolling through his phone. Haechan looks up casually, locking eyes with you before his own widen almost imperceptibly and he sits up straighter, stretching his legs out and spreading them wider.

“Hey,” he says offhandedly, grinning as casually as can be considering he just readjusted his whole demeanor to impress you. 

“Hi,” you coo, heading over to where he sits. You bend over, placing both hands on his knees, and lean forward to murmur in his ear, “I wanna sit next to you. Save me this spot?” You tap the arm of the couch, and he falters slightly, shooting you a surprised and confused look, but obliges, scooting over so there’s space between him and the arm of the couch. 

“All for you,” he assures you, and you smile, looking over to where Lia stands, mumbling to herself in annoyance as she roots through her bag for something. She pulls out a small makeup bag and opens it, retrieving a pre-rolled joint and waving it triumphantly. 

“Got it!” she chirps, moving to the couch and sitting down next to Haechan on the side he doesn’t have saved for you. “Lighter?” she asks the rest of you, and Jaemin shrugs.

“I’m guessing you took an edible, then?” Yeji asks Jaemin, and he nods, that same smile coming back to his lips.

“That I did,” he giggles, making you roll your eyes in amusement as you sit between Haechan and the end of the couch. Haechan eyes your skirt and your dark stockings intently, pinching the thin fabric with a lighthearted scoff.

“Can I help you?” you ask nonchalantly, placing your hand on top of his hand.

“Aren’t you cold?” he asks curiously, and you shake your head. 

“Why? Are you worried about me, Haechan?” you coo fondly, and he turns his palm up so it’s touching yours, lacing your fingers together.

“What if I say yes?” His voice is a murmur as he turns his head to look at you.

“I’d say you’re cute.”

“Then yes.”

“You’re cute.” You smile, and he grins.

“You’re cute.”

You dismiss him with a small roll of your eyes, averting your gaze and locking gazes with Yeji, who wiggles her eyebrows suggestively as she looks pointedly at your and Haechan’s linked hands. You give a minuscule nod with a smile and return your attention to Haechan, who, you think, has witnessed your secret interaction, his eyes moving between Yeji and you.

“…Remind me again why you wanted to sit next to me,” Haechan asks you suspiciously, and you pout at him.

“Because you’re my favorite,” you coo, resting your head on his shoulder and batting your lashes at his wary look.

“Oh, yeah? Does Mark know that?” he chuckles, and you raise a brow.

“Do you want him to?” you counter.

Haechan shrugs. “Depends. I kinda like seeing him sulk sometimes.”

“Wow, you’re such a good friend.” you remark sarcastically.

“Now, now. Is that any way to talk to your favorite?” Haechan nudges you playfully and you snicker.

“Shut up.” you huff, jerking your chin in the direction of Lia, who’s taking a hit from the joint she brought. “It’s almost your turn.”

Haechan takes it from Lia’s outstretched fingers as she exhales a cloud of smoke, bringing it to his lips and taking a long drag. You can’t help but admire the way he looks while he smokes, his pink lips wrapped around the joint making you itch to feel them on your skin.

He blows out the smoke in several rings, looking over at you with a smug grin. You roll your eyes, but it’s too late—if his amused exhale is any indication, he already caught sight of your smile.

“Show off.”

“You love it,” he retorts, and you stick your tongue out at him in lieu of a verbal response. 

“Whatever. Pass it,” you beckon for the joint, and Haechan’s grin widens as he leans closer to you. “Haechan,” you complain, and he chuckles.

“Ask me nicely.” His voice is low so as not to catch anyone’s attention besides yours, and his eyes drop from your gaze to your lips, his own parting subconsciously.

You lean in closer as well, still studying his face with curiosity, and bring your lips to the side of his face, deliberately brushing them against the shell of his ear to watch him get all jittery.

“Haechan,” you coo, and you can hear him swallow thickly.

“Yeah?” He sounds significantly less confident now, you note with satisfaction.

You pause to build the suspense. “Gimme it.” You pluck the joint from his unsuspecting hand, and he splutters in surprise as you pull away from him and bring it to your lips to take a pull.

“You’re evil,” he complains, and you smile widely.

“Sorry,” you reply unapologetically, exhaling the smoke with every word you speak. You take another drag of the joint and lean over Haechan, resting your hand on his thigh as you pass it over him and back to Lia.

“Wh—hey!” Haechan protests immediately, only for you to cup his chin in your hand and blow the smoke in between his parted lips. He shuts up immediately and allows you to shotgun him, his hand moving to hold the side of your neck and keep you in place.

Normally, you’d be a bit more concerned with people watching, but not everyone in the room can see you—Jaemin and Yeji are immersed in some conversation while Jeno rummages around in the kitchen—and the ones who can see you already know about the bet and your plan, Lia pointedly looking away as she calls to Jeno in the kitchen.

When the smoke runs out, you pull back before Haechan can close the distance between you two, grinning wickedly when he chases your lips with his eyes still closed. You shake his head in a “no” gesture, and he opens his eyes slowly, gaze locked on you with a dazed look on his face.

“There’s your hit,” you murmur, and he opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. You raise your brows in surprise. “I think this is the first time I’ve ever seen you speechless.” 

“Yeah, well, you’re not playing fair,” he mumbles, looking put out.

“Sorry, Haechan,” you chuckle, squeezing his thigh under the guise of comforting him. He looks down at his thigh in surprise, then back at you with wary eyes.

“What are you up to?”

You don’t answer, instead smiling secretively and sliding your hand up just a bit higher. 

“What are you up to?” he presses, and you shrug, moving your hand up just a bit higher until you brush against something warm and solid and smile in satisfaction. “Good God.”

“Haechan, take your phone out of your pocket,” you say with a mocking frown, and he glares at you.

“You know damn well that’s not my phone.” As if to prove his point, he picks his phone up from beside him, waving the device in your face.

“Oh? Then what is it?” you ask curiously, feigning cluelessness, and Haechan’s glare only intensifies. You widen your eyes in a dramatic show of realization and sit closer to him, sliding your hand up higher until there’s no mistaking your intentions. “Haechan.” You attempt to sound as scandalized as possible.

“I’m gonna throttle you.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time.” You smile sweetly, patting the growing bulge in his pants lightly. “Haechan,” you whisper, returning to your original line of questioning, “if it’s not your phone, then what is it?” 

“You know what it is.” His voice is flat, if not a bit strained, and you can’t help but smile wider.

“Are you hard, Haechan?” You place your free hand over your chest and blink at him in shock. Haechan pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue as he bites back a humorless chuckle, and you wet your lips absentmindedly, your gaze falling to his mouth. “Why are you hard, Haechan?” you murmur, cocking your head to the side curiously. (As if you don’t know.)

“Hm, I don’t know. Surely it has nothing to do with the girl next to me right now rubbing up on me,” Haechan remarks drily. “You get on my nerves sometimes, you know that?” He’s clearly joking, the playful lilt in his voice unmistakable, but you eagerly take the opening to be difficult.

You frown, retracting your hand from his lap. Haechan looks from his now untouched lap to you in what you’re positive is poorly concealed disappointment. “What?”

“I get on your nerves?” You sniffle in faux hurt before you angle your body away from him, resting your elbow on the arm of the sofa and placing your chin in your hand forlornly.

“Aw, c’mere,” Haechan chuckles, winding an arm around your waist and pulling you closer. You huff and scoot closer to the edge of the couch, barely hiding your yelp of surprise when Haechan pulls you to him so hard that you practically land in his lap. You continue to look away from him, sighing dramatically, and he snickers, placing his chin on your shoulder and turning his face towards you so his nose is brushing against your cheek. “Did I hurt your feelings?” 

“Let me go,” you say, your voice clipped, and he adjusts you so you’re sitting properly in his lap before he tilts his head up to press his lips to your cheek.

“Would it help if I told you just how cute I think you are?” His voice comes out as an almost incoherent mumble because of how his lips are squished against your cheek, but you hear him all the same, your face heating up as you fight back a smile.

“No.”

“You sure?” His hand moves a lock of your hair behind your ear before coming to rest on your thigh.

You pause, staring at his (very attractive) hand on your leg. “I’m sure.” 

He shifts you in his lap so his lips are closer to your ear and murmurs, “Even if I tell you that you could never actually get on my nerves and that you’re the prettiest girl?”

“What, ever?” you scoff, amused, and he nods, his lips brushing your ear with the movement.

“Yes, ever.” To your surprise, he sounds sincere, and the notion of the compliment being genuine has your cheeks burning with heat. “I can see you trying not to smile, you know.”

“Shut up.”

“Make me.”

“Okay.” You shift on his lap so you can sit directly on the growing erection in his pants, and he sucks in a sharp breath. “Ha, ha.” you gloat.

“You shut up.” It’s his turn to gripe at you, and you shrug.

“No.” Before he can say anything else in response, you cover his mouth with your hand and lean over towards Lia to take the joint from her once more. You two share a secretive, knowing look before she angles her body so that she’s shielding you and your shenanigans from the rest of the group.

You keep your hand over Haechan’s mouth as you take your hit of the joint, before a warm, wet sensation on your palm has you yanking your hand off of his mouth like you’ve been burned. You stare down at the glistening wet stripe on your palm in bewilderment and look back up at him incredulously.

“Can I help you?” Haechan asks nonchalantly, having the audacity to smile innocently at you, and you narrow your eyes.

“Did you seriously just lick me?” you scoff in disbelief, and he shrugs.

“Maybe.”

“You are so weird.” you mumble as you pass Lia the joint, skipping Haechan once more.

“You’re gonna stop skipping me in the rotation, I know that much.” Haechan warns and you roll your eyes.

“That’s for saying I get on your nerves and for being weird.” you reply, turning your nose up.

“Oh, please. You’re sitting on my lap, so clearly you must like how weird I am, at least a little bit.” He grins teasingly, and you roll your eyes, adjusting yourself on his lap until he lets out a choked groan from the feeling of you moving against his concealed, almost entirely hard length. “Stop moving.”

“Your dick is making me uncomfortable,” you lie in a huff, squirming around a bit more before he grabs your hips to restrict your movements. “Get un-hard.”

“I can’t just get un-hard,” Haechan bites back.

“You didn’t even try!”

“That’s not how dicks work!” Haechan whisper-snaps at you, and you narrow your eyes.

“Well, do something,” you complain, ending your little hushed whisper debate. “Or I will.” 

Haechan regards you warily. “Do I want to know what that means?”

“Probably not.” You shrug. “But you’re gonna find out anyway.”

“Psst!” Lia whispers to get your attention, and you look over at her, feeling slightly sheepish. “Do either of you want to take a hit from the bong?”

“I’m good for right now,” you say, smiling as the hits from the joint you’ve already taken continue to take effect, while Haechan hums thoughtfully.

“Yeah, I’ll take a hit.” He reaches for the bong as Lia hands it over, gripping your waist with his free hand to keep you steady, and an idea comes to your mind of how you can mess with him even more.

He brings his mouth to the mouthpiece of the bong, taking his hit and you gently stroke his leg, smiling innocently when he side-eyes you suspiciously. You wait patiently until he finishes exhaling the smoke (you’re not a total monster) to rest your hand directly over his concealed length and squeeze it firmly, making him cough in surprise, Haechan spluttering comically as you bite back your laughter. 

“Y’know what?” Haechan mutters, jaw set in determination as he stares you down. “Come on.” He moves you off of his lap, wraps his fingers around your wrist, and pulls you to your feet, walking away quickly with you in tow. When Jaemin curiously asks where you’re going, Haechan mutters something about the kitchen and snacks, not offering any further explanation.

You shoot Jaemin a thumbs-up over your shoulder, and he grins, nodding and returning the gesture just before Haechan leads you out of view. You two make it into the kitchen, passing a smiling Jeno with a bag of Cheetos and a plate of pizza rolls on his way out, and Haechan pushes you up against the counter, caging you in with his arms and staring directly at you.

“Haechan, why are we here?” you ask, looking back at him as calmly as possible given the steady increase of your heart rate as he eyes you with an unreadable expression.

“What,” Haechan steps closer to you, making you shrink back against the counter even more, “are you playing at?”

You blink at him impassively. “I don’t know what you mean,” you lie.

“You’re sitting next to me, calling me your favorite, feeling me up in front of our friends—”

“Haechan.” You interrupt him, an eyebrow raised skeptically. “You literally liked it. Stop complaining.”

“I don’t like being felt up in front of our friends, actually.” You can tell he’s trying to sound like he means it, but the way he suddenly avoids your gaze sheepishly tells you everything you need to know.

“You’re lying,” you say simply, and he huffs. 

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

“Am n—”

“Haechan, do you think I’m an idiot?” You stare at him, unimpressed. “You liked it. You pulled me onto your lap. You didn’t move my hand once.” He rolls his eyes, still not making eye contact, and you sigh in frustration, cupping his chin and turning his head so he’s looking at you. “You wanna know why I did all that?” you ask in a quiet but urgent voice, and he blinks a couple of times before nodding. “I was sitting next to you and you just look so good today—”

“Don’t say that,” he mutters, his brows furrowing together as he looks away from you again.

“You do,” you insist, pulling Haechan closer to you by the chin. “You look so hot in that hoodie, honestly.” You loop one of the strings of the light gray hoodie around your finger and tug it lightly as you continue speaking. “Honestly, it’s really on you that I did anything in the first place,” You say, shrugging, and he looks back at you incredulously.

“It’s on me?”

“Yep.” You smile at him and bring both hands to the hem of his hoodie, tugging him even closer to you. “You had the nerve to wear gray sweatpants—”

“They match my hoodie!” 

“—like some kind of slut,” you continue, looking from your hands on the bottom of his hoodie up to his face, “and think no one was gonna notice your entire goddamn dick print in your pants?”

“Well, who’s looking that closely?!” Haechan splutters defensively, and you scoff. 

“Everyone knows the shape of a dick, Haechan!” You whisper-yell incredulously. “Plus, it’s not like you’re exactly small, y’know.”

“So, it’s my fault that you tried to jump my bones? My crime is having a big dick and wanting to wear sweats in the middle of November?” Haechan asks in disbelief, and you nod simply, pulling him even closer until your legs brush against his. 

“Yeah.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m not. Actually, what I am is turned on,” you correct, and Haechan stops short, looking at you carefully.

“You’re what?”

“You heard me.” You stare back at him challengingly. You can practically see the gears turning in his head, Haechan’s eyes briefly dropping to scan your whole body before returning upwards to look into your own, his gaze considerably more intense and glinting with mischief. “Can you stop staring at me like that and do something about it?”

“Oh?” Haechan’s smile turns wicked as he steps closer to you so you’re pressed up against each other with the countertop digging into your back. “Do what about it, hm?”

“I don’t know,” you lilt, dragging the last syllable out and batting your lashes at him coyly. With one hand, you release his hoodie and trail down his body the short distance from the hem of his hoodie to the string of his sweats. You slowly pull at the string until it’s untied, looking up at his face. He’s mesmerized, watching your hand as it dips into the band of his sweats and snaps the elastic against his skin, making him jolt. “Use your imagination.”

“You are so dangerous.” Haechan mumbles in a daze, but there’s an unmistakable desire in his voice that gives you all the confirmation you need to continue. He brings his hands to your hips, urging you up and onto the counter, immediately pushing himself between your legs and resting his hands on your thighs. 

You place a hand between your legs protectively to conceal yourself, your skirt riding up your thighs as he massages them. 

“Relax,” he chuckles, pinching your thin stockings and letting them lightly snap against your skin, “you’re covered.”

“It’s the principle of the thing,” you mumble, averting your gaze, and he snickers, pinching your stockings again and tugging them. “Stop, they're fragile—you could rip them.”

“Oh, I know,” he murmurs teasingly, looking up from your thighs at your face. “I want to rip them.”

“Don’t you dare,” you warn him, and he wiggles his eyebrows suggestively.

“Stop me.” His eyes are trained on your lips and he’s got his bottom lip trapped between his teeth, painting a very alluring image that makes you wish you could get just a bit of friction between your legs, any pressure at all, to relieve yourself of some of the tension building up. 

He leans forward, your lips brushing lightly against each other’s, and you’re not even sure who’s teasing whom at this point. You do know, however, that Haechan is the first to cave, leaning in with a groan to close the distance between you two and connect your lips.

You two kiss with an air of desperation, a feverish quality to your every move as he kneads your thighs, hiking your skirt up higher. His tongue eases between your lips and he strokes it against your own, pushing forward slightly to suck on your tongue when he pulls back.

As you two kiss, you push your hand past the band of his sweats, moving to slip your hand into his boxers, only to stop short and look at him in surprise. He raises his eyebrows and grins playfully, eyes darting between where your hand lies in his pants and your shocked face.

“No boxers? Just out here, rawdogging your sweats, dick and balls and all?” You’re incredulous, and he shrugs as his grin widens. “You really are a slut, Haechan.”

“Hey!” Haechan complains, frowning at you. He wraps his hand around your wrist and urges it lower down until your fingertips are brushing against his length, murmuring, “Besides, don’t act like you don’t love it.”

“I never said I don’t love it,” you reply slowly, wrapping your hand around the base of his length. His erection is hot and heavy in your palm, thick and tempting, and you stroke upwards, relishing the hiss he lets out. “I just said you’re a slut.”

“And what about you, pretty?” Haechan presses in a low voice. “Are you a little slut?”

“Me? No,” you answer, stroking his length faster and appreciating the way he grows in your hand. “I’m innocent.”

“Sure,” he snorts in amusement. “Your hand is wrapped around my dick right now.”

“Oh, is it? I hadn’t noticed.” You twist your wrist, tightening your grip on him and stroking him faster. He grunts in satisfaction and leans closer to you, tilting your head to the side slightly and giving your neck heated, wet kisses as you jerk him off. You welcome the attention eagerly, loosely hooking your legs around the backs of his legs and sighing happily as he licks and sucks at your pulse point.

“Wait—slow down, or I’m gonna cum.” Haechan mutters in a warning tone against your skin, and it’s your turn to snort in amusement.

“Haechan, what do you think my goal is right now?”

“No, but—shit,” he swears, biting down on your neck to stifle the groan that escapes him when you jerk him off faster, swiping your thumb over the head of his length, collecting the glaze of his precum and using it as lubrication. “No, because—ugh, that feels so good.”

“Good,” you hum sweetly, massaging his tip with your thumb and working your hand up and down his length as he pants against your neck, his kisses getting sloppier.

“I can’t,” he manages to get out through his clenched teeth. “No Nut November—the bet—”

“Fuck the bet,” you say simply, and he shakes his head, a desperate, plaintive whine leaving him.

“Can’t—I can’t cum,” he says through a shaky exhale, and you roll your eyes as you collect several more beads of precum from the head of his length.

“What’s this, Haechan?” you taunt him playfully, stroking him faster with the help of the precum. “Feels like cum to me.”

“That doesn’t count,” he whines, and you snicker.

“You really don’t want to cum?” you ask gently, rolling your eyes as he starts to thrust forward into your hand. “You’re not acting like you don’t want to cum.”

“It feels so good,” he complains, and you coo sympathetically, letting him fuck into your fist.

“Then cum.”

“No—”

“Then I’ll stop,” you say simply, and his fingers dig into your thighs desperately.

“No—” 

“Haechan.”

“God, fuck, please, just a little bit longer.” Haechan pants, and you pretend to oblige, continuing to provide the fist he’s fucking. You can feel him throbbing in your hand as his would-be climax approaches, and you smile devilishly when you pull your hand out from his underwear and watch as he goes through every stage of grief, lingering in anger before a brief pass through bargaining and finally coming to acceptance as his head hangs low.

“Sorry,” you say with a pout, and he looks up at you, still defeated but also skeptical.

“Are you?”

You pretend to think. “Nope.” You gently push him away from you with a knee to his stomach, hopping off the counter and smiling at him. “Have fun getting rid of that,” you chuckle, gesturing to the now incredibly prominent imprint of his erection, and he glowers at you. “I’m gonna go take a bong hit.”

You don’t stick around to hear his response, turning on your heel and heading back into the living room. Your friends all turn from their conversations to look at you as you re-enter the room, all sporting the same expectant look, and silently celebrate when you shoot them a thumbs-up, Jeno and Lia high-fiving.

“Want some?” Jeno holds up the bong, and you nod, reaching for it before you stop yourself and look at your hand. “What’s wrong?”

“I do want some,” you say, “but I think I should wash my hands first. Be right back.” You head for the bathroom, peeking in at Haechan as you pass the kitchen and clapping a hand over your mouth to muffle your laugh.

He’s standing with his forehead against the fridge, gently thumping his head against the metal door, and repeatedly muttering, “I fucking hate November.”

You know you should feel bad, but…you don’t. At all, really.

As a matter of fact, you think you might love November.

 Friday, November 20th.

“Knock, knock,” you call when you poke your head into Mark’s room. He turns from his computer towards the door, beaming when he sees you. “Can I come in?”

“Yeah, of course, dude,” Mark says, waving you in with one hand. He turns back to his screen and presses a couple of keys on his keyboard, swearing under his breath before turning back to face you. 

“Whatcha doin’?” you ask.

“Playing Monster Hunter World,” he answers with a jab of his thumb in the direction of his screen. “Why, what’s up?”

“Missed you, that’s all.” you say softly, making your way over to his chair and standing behind it. “I did my rounds bothering your roommates and it’s your turn to put up with me.”

“You’re telling me Haechan let you leave his room?” Mark snickers in disbelief, craning his head to look at you.

“I told him I wanted to see you.” You shrug.

Mark snorts loudly. “And he still let you leave his room?”

“I can be very persuasive,” you huff, and Mark scans your frame before raising his eyebrows.

“I bet.” he mumbles with a small smirk.

You blink twice. “What was that?”

“Look at your outfit,” Mark swivels around in his chair to face you fully and you scoff in surprise. Mark seems to pick up on where your mind is heading and his eyes widen as he shakes his head vehemently. “No, not like that!”

“Then like what?” You cock your head to the side and Mark puts his head in his hands, sighing in anguish. 

“Like—you look hot, dude—that’s all I meant,” he assures you in a rush of words, and you let out a small huff, prompting him to reach for your hands. He pulls you closer and looks up at you with pleading eyes. “I would never say something like that.”

“Okay,” you say slowly, and he swears under his breath. 

“You just look really…fucking…attractive, so it’s no wonder why he listened to you.” Mark says carefully. You feel a smile coming on and you step closer, nudging his knees apart to stand between them. 

“Really?”

“Yeah, oh, my God, yeah—” Mark stammers, releasing one hand to gesture at your outfit. “Your hair—I love when you wear your hair like that—and your jeans, they—um,” Mark’s voice trails off awkwardly and you cock an eyebrow, bending down to meet his eyes. “They fit you very nicely.”

“Mark, are you telling me my ass looks good?” You stand up and bite back a smile as his ears redden and he laughs nervously, releasing you to rub the back of his neck.

“Maybe,” he answers sheepishly, looking up at you. At the sight of your thoroughly amused face, some of his confidence returns to his demeanor. “Yeah, maybe I am.”

“If you were, I’d say thank you,” you say with a playful shrug. “Maybe even kiss you for the compliment.”

“I was definitely complimenting your ass.” The words can’t come out of Mark’s mouth fast enough, apparently, and you laugh in surprise.

“Well, thank you,” you laugh before you sink into a squat and rest your elbows on his lap. “Where do you want your kiss?”

He taps his cheek and you smile and lean closer to press a kiss there, his cheek moving under your lips as he smiles.

“Your cardigan is also really, um, flattering,” Mark adds when you sit back, and you raise your eyebrows.

“Is it? Haechan said that, too,” you muse thoughtfully.

“Yeah, he’s right.” Mark nods, and you raise your eyebrows.

“He made some dumb joke about my cardigan, too,” you continue, and Mark looks at you expectantly. “Said I look breedable—y’know, like that meme?”

Mark chokes on air, his face reddening as he coughs and splutters and you just watch with growing amusement.

“He said that?” Mark squeaks, and you nod with a grin. “I mean—well—”

“Mark, are you agreeing with him?”

“Well—”

“Mark.” Your eyebrows can’t possibly be raised any more than they are now. “Are you saying I look breedable?”

“Oh, my God. How did we get on this topic?” Mark mumbles nervously, rubbing a hand over his face.

“Answer my question.” you press, and he balks.

“I’m not saying that he’s wrong.”

“So you agree? This silly little cardigan makes you wanna breed me?” You press your tongue to the inside of your cheek as you fight back a laugh.

Mark looks like he could faint. “Can we please change the topic?”

“Sure,” you reply easily, and he visibly relaxes, slumping against his chair and exhaling loudly. “You know, I think you should get another kiss.” 

He looks up at you curiously. “Yeah?”

“For your troubles,” you say, shrugging. His gaze drops from your eyes to your lips and he nods, making you smile.

Leaning down again, you press a kiss to the corner of his mouth, Mark turning his head at the last moment and making you kiss him on the lips. 

“For my troubles,” he repeats with a small grin, and you match his expression before an idea pops into your head.

“Maybe you should get another one.”

“Yeah, maybe I should.” He sounds breathless, and you bite back a chuckle.

“I could kiss you here,” you murmur, hovering over his mouth, and he leans forward to connect your lips, frowning when you pull back. Resting your hand on his lap and keeping it there even when he jolts, you look down at where his print is pressing against his sweats, smiling sweetly. “Or I could kiss you here.”

“Oh, shit,” Mark mumbles quietly.

“Is that a no?” you frown, and Mark chuckles, albeit nervously.

“You sound like you want to,” he says.

“Of course I want to,” you snicker. “I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t want to.”

“Oh, God,” he groans, his head falling back against the chair. Taking that as a yes, you sink to your knees and start untying the string in his sweatpants. “Out in the open like this?” he asks anxiously, and you pause to think.

“You’re right,” you muse, crawling under his desk and beckoning him over. When he hesitantly scoots closer, you resume untying the string to his sweats, pulling them down enough to reveal his boxers. Looking up at him with a grin, you press a kiss over his boxers to the underside of his length, smiling when his body goes stiff. “You can go back to playing your game, y’know.”

He lets out a small groan from the back of his throat but nods, reaching for his keyboard again with hands that tremble slightly. You press small kisses over his clothed erection as he starts his game back up, waiting somewhat patiently for him to get back into his rhythm.

When he starts to grow in his boxers, you pull the band of them down to let his length spring free. It slaps against his stomach, visibly flushed, and you wrap your hand around the base, stroking him slowly before wrapping your lips around his tip, licking at the slit leaking precum.

“Oh, fuck—” Mark grunts, his head falling back against his chair as his length twitches in your mouth. Hollowing your cheeks, you start to bob your head up and down his shaft, taking in more of his length every time you move downward. “That feels so good—aw, hell.”

Pulling off of him with a wet pop, you look up at his face. “What happened?”

“I died,” he groans. “A fucking pukei-pukei got me.” 

“Mm,” you hum in acknowledgement as you flatten your tongue and drag it up the length of his shaft, swirling the tip of it around the head of his cock before you speak again. “I don’t know what that means,” you reply simply, taking him back into your mouth.

“You’re distracting me,” he whines, eyes darting from his screen down to you repeatedly. 

“Pretend I’m not here,” you offer helpfully.

“My dick is in your mouth.” he says flatly, staring at you blankly. “Are you serious right now?”

You pull off of him again, stroking his length with your saliva as lubricant as you lick against the slit in his tip, and he sucks in a loud breath.

“Now it’s not in your mouth.”

“You’re kind of evil, you know that?”

“No, I’m not,” you say with a teasing pout. “You’re mean.”

“I’m mean?” he asks incredulously. 

“Mhm,” you hum as you kiss down his length to his balls. He hisses loudly and his cock twitches in your hand, his body starting to curl in on itself as his abdomen constricts. You lick at them diligently and look up at his reaction, smiling as his eyes are screwed shut. 

“I can’t—fuck, I think I’m gonna—”

“Cum?” you finish for him. “Do it.”

“I can’t, dude, the bet—”

“Mark.” you say flatly, still stroking him as you speak. “I’m giving you a blowjob and you can’t stop calling me ‘dude?’”

“Sorry,” he groans, bucking his hips up towards your mouth again. 

“Just cum, Mark,” you coo, your lips pressed to the underside of his length where his tip and shaft meet. “I’ll let you finish in my mouth,” you offer, and he swears under his breath, gripping the arm of his chair so hard his knuckles turn white.

“Please don’t say that again,” he moans, and you hum questioningly.

“Say what?” you ask, feigning cluelessness. “That I want you to cum in my mouth?”

“Shit,” he gasps, his length starting to throb in your hand and against your mouth.

“I won’t tell anyone,” you whisper, and he whimpers.

“I can’t,” he grunts in defeat, and you sigh in disappointment, pulling away from his length. “No!”

“You can’t cum, right?” you remind him, and his eyes squeeze shut in distress as he looks thoroughly tortured.

“No,” he finally gets out, and you suck your teeth.

“Shame,” you say with a shrug. “What are you gonna do now?”

“Play this game and hope my boner goes down.” he mumbles defeatedly.

You nod. “Sounds good to me.” A moment or two passes before you speak again. “Mark?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you move so I can get out from under your desk?”

“Oh, shit, yeah, sorry—” He scoots back and you get to your feet, running your fingers through his hair gently as a nonverbal apology.

“No problem,” you reply with a smile. “I’m gonna leave you to, uh, deflate your boner.”

“Deflate? It’s not a balloon animal,” Mark snorts, and you shrug.

“Whatever. Have fun with your pika-pika!”

Mark chuckles. “It’s pukei-pukei. Pika-pika is the sound Pikachu makes.”

“Oh. Pikachu is so cute; you should play Pokémon instead.”

“I’ll think about it,” he answers with a small nod. You both know he won’t.

“Good! Oh, and also?”

“Mm?”

“Put your dick away before someone else comes in.” you suggest, pointing at his lap before you wave and head out of his room.

“Thank you!” he calls out as you shut his door, almost colliding with Jaemin. 

“Sorry, Jaem!” you apologize.

Jaemin pats your arm good-naturedly. “No worries.” He doesn’t move for a moment, making you pause. 

“Is there a reason why you’re not moving?”

“I was gonna ask Mark if he wanted to play a game of Overwatch with me,” he explains, jerking his chin in the direction of Mark’s door.

“Oh! Um, he’s not ready just yet—I just got finished, um…well…”

“Yes?”

“His dick was in my mouth.”

“Ah. So he’s hard.”

“Yes.”

Jaemin nods slowly. “I’ll just text him.”

“Good idea.” 

 Monday, November 23rd. 

Your teacher bids you all goodbye and you pack up your things quickly, slinging your bag over your shoulder and waving to your teacher as you exit the classroom. You don’t have to wait long by the door for the person you’re waiting for to come out, Haechan emerging three people after you.

“Thank God we got her off topic for the last thirty minutes,” you sigh in relief, and Haechan snickers as he falls into step with you. “I don’t think I would have lasted the rest of the lecture.”

“She’s so chill, but man, do those lectures make me fall asleep.” Haechan agrees, and you nod with a laugh, squinting as you exit the building and are assaulted with the surprising brightness that is the sky at 4:30pm. 

You two get down the small set of stairs and you turn in the direction of your apartment complex. “See you later,” you say with a wave, but Haechan’s hand closes around your wrist immediately, startling you and stopping you from walking any farther. 

“Where are you going?” Haechan sounds puzzled and petulant, and you turn back around, looking from where he’s holding your wrist to his face with an expression every bit as puzzled as he sounds.

“Home,” you answer slowly, blinking at him in confusion. 

“What if we hung out?” Haechan suggests, tugging you a bit closer. “You can come over.”

“And do what?” you ask, and he pauses to think.

“I was gonna play Overwatch for a bit before I did homework; you could watch me,” he offers hopefully, and you tap your chin thoughtfully.

“Y’know, I was actually gonna go watch paint dry, and that’s kinda gonna take up my whole afternoon, so—”

“Oh, shut up and just come hang out with me,” Haechan grouches as you laugh at your own joke, eventually unable to hold back his laughter at how visibly amused you are.

“You’re just gonna ignore me for at least an hour while you play.”

“I won’t ignore you,” he promises. You don’t believe him.

“I don’t know,” you sigh, dragging out the last word, and Haechan sucks his teeth and yanks your bag off of your shoulder, slinging it onto his own. “Hello?”

“Hello.” He raises his eyebrows expectantly, and you roll your eyes. 

“Why did you take my bag?”

“I’m going home. This bag is coming with me. If you care about it, you’ll come with me.” Haechan speaks slowly, a smug little grin curling his lips when you grumble under your breath.

“Come on.” You push between his shoulder blades, guiding him forward. “Let’s go. You’d better have snacks.”

“Of course I do,” Haechan replies, offended. “Do you think I’m a monster?”

“Yes, actually, I do.”

“You little—”

“Walk!”

You feel played. Played, scammed, used, bamboozled, and any other synonyms you’re forgetting.

It’s been 45 minutes since you got to Haechan’s room, he hasn’t graced you with the sight of anything but his back as he immerses himself in his game, and you just ran out of gummy worms.

“Haechan, why did you even invite me if you’re not gonna, I don’t know, talk to me?” you complain.

“I’m almost done with this game, I swear.” Haechan assures you, and you grumble incoherently as he returns his full attention to the game, leaving you alone with your thoughts once more. “Jesus fucking Christ, can Sombra get off my ass—”

“I hope Sombra gets you.” you mutter under your breath bitterly, not knowing what that even means. 

You want revenge. And, as you study Haechan’s figure from behind, you come up with a pretty good idea of how you’re going to get it. You planned to mess with him in a different way—hence your precautionary measures of wearing matching underwear and putting a bit more effort into your appearance before class today—but this new method can’t hurt.

You take off your chunky knit sweater, balling it up and chucking it at his back. He grunts at the impact and turns back to shoot you a brief affronted glare, but the irritation wipes right off his face when he takes in the sight of your thin tank top you’re wearing underneath the sweater. It leaves little to the imagination, to be frank, the neckline dipping to reveal a bit of your cleavage, and the shirt rides up easily—very easily. You lock eyes with him once he’s finished staring at your newly revealed skin and blink expectantly.

“What?”

“You hurled your thick ass sweater at me, and you have the nerve to ask me ‘what?’” Haechan snorts incredulously, and you nod.

“Yes, yes, I do.”

“When my back bruises from that attack, I’m making you kiss it better,” he huffs, turning back around to focus on the game.

“Yeah, whatever,” you mutter to yourself, already thinking about your next move. You shift positions, lying down on your stomach, making sure your shirt does its job of riding up to reveal a sliver of skin around your waist. You pick up your phone and pretend to be engrossed for a while until you sigh loudly.

Haechan turns to face you again, no doubt prepared to tell you to shut up, but—yet again—he finds himself speechless as his eyes greedily rake over your body, lingering on the bare skin of your waist and the curve of your ass in your leggings. 

“Why are you sighing?”

“I want to go home.”

“Don’t go home,” he says immediately, “I swear I’m almost done. Our DPS keeps dying and the healers keep running off on their own—”

“Oh, well, if the healers are just out here running off on their own, we can’t have that.” you snark.

If Haechan notices your sarcasm, he doesn’t comment. “Yeah, I need them to get on the goddamn payload so I can—”

“Haechan, I don’t know what any of these words mean.” you gripe, and he sighs.

“The payload is—”

“Oh, let me be clearer. I don’t know, and I’d prefer to keep it that way.” 

“Such a sassy little puppy,” Haechan snickers, and you hesitate.

“Puppy?”

“Yeah, puppy. It’s cute, like you. It fits.”

He’s got a point—it is a cute nickname. But for some reason, the fluttering feeling of delight (and budding arousal) you get in your stomach when he uses it makes you feel like being a contrarian.

“Don’t call me that.” 

“Why not?”

You balk. “I don’t like it.”

“You’ll warm up to it,” he says confidently, and you glare at him petulantly, trying your best to hide that you’ve already more than warmed up to it.

“Whatever,” you huff, and he chuckles quietly, raking his eyes over your frame again and wetting his lips before turning back around.

You can’t help but roll your eyes at how easy he is to mess with. 

You don’t make a peep for the next fifteen minutes, your silence unnerving Haechan to the point where he turns around several times unprompted. He’s not even met with eye contact from you as you essentially ignore him in his own room, and you can feel it driving him insane.

Sure enough, in a moment, the monitor he’s using goes black in your peripheral vision and he stands up, stretching before walking over to you and standing by the side of the bed.

You don’t look up. “What?”

It’s his turn to sigh now, his fingers lightly tickling at the back of your ankle as he waits to have your attention. “I’m bored.”

“Sucks.”

He sucks his teeth, fingers grazing up the back of your calf and resting in the dip behind your knee. “Play with me.”

“I don’t play video games.”

“Not video games.”

“Unless you’re feeling up to getting your ass beat in a game of checkers, I don’t know what game we could play.”

“Oh, my God, stop being difficult.” Haechan groans, squeezing the back of your thigh. 

You finally look up at him and almost wish you hadn’t. He’s looking at you like he wants to devour you and it weakens your resolve ever so slightly.

You pout up at him. “I like being difficult.”

He stares at you impassively for a moment before realization clicks on his face. “I know what this is about.” 

“What what’s about?” you reply huffily, and he grins as he moves to sit on the bed on top of you, his knees on either side of your legs. 

“You’re upset because I didn’t talk to you while I was gaming, aren’t you?” Haechan asks with a knowing lilt to his voice. 

You don’t say anything for a moment. “I am not upset,” you lie.

“Aw,” Haechan coos, both hands gliding up the backs of your thighs and stopping just below your ass. You feel him shift on top of you and a moment later, his breath fans over your ear. “Did puppy need my attention?”

The way you tense under him is surely noticeable, and that annoyingly pleased fluttering feeling in your stomach returns. However, you’re still annoyed with him.

“Don’t call me that.” you grouch, and he chuckles, lips brushing your ear ever so lightly before he sits back up.

“Stop liking it, and maybe I won't.” Haechan retorts, and you say nothing yet again, scrolling aimlessly through Twitter. He lets the silence hang between you two as he kneads the backs of your thighs, but breaks it when he brings his hands to trace his fingers along the bare skin between your shirt and your leggings. “It’s the middle of fall and you’re in this flimsy little shirt.”

“It’s called wearing layers, nincompoop.”

“It’s practically as thin as toilet paper,” he quips back, and you huff as he pushes it up to reveal more of your back. “I could rip this right off of you,” he muses thoughtfully.

“Do not let the intrusive thoughts win, Haechan,” you comment drily, and he hums softly in acknowledgement, although it sounds awfully dismissive. “And put my shirt back down.”

“It’s not like it’s serving any purpose.” Haechan counters, and you groan, moving to sit up. Haechan presses down on your back between your shoulder blades, flattening you against the bed once more, and you let out an irritated sigh. “Only thing it’s doing is turning me on, actually.”

“That sounds awfully personal.”

“Oh, you’re so cute when you’re being a brat.” Haechan pretends to swoon and you snicker despite yourself. “Come on, I’m bored!” He shifts his weight to his heels so he’s not sitting on you anymore and smacks your ass once, ignoring your yelp as he rolls you onto your back. 

“That sounds,” you say slowly, deliberately stressing every syllable as you look up at him with a bored expression, “like a you problem.”

“I’m about to make it your problem, actually.” Haechan smiles down at you, shifting his weight forward again so he’s sitting on your thighs. “Because in addition to being bored, now I’m feeling a little riled up from this little outfit you have on.”

“So?” 

“So,” Haechan stresses the word as he leans down closer to you, “I need you to be a good puppy—”

“Stop calling me that—”

“—and indulge me for a bit.” He finishes his sentence in a softer voice than he started out with, nudging the tip of your nose with his playfully. “Gimme a kiss.”

He advances on you even further, lips now but a breath away from each other, and flicks at your bottom lip with his tongue. You play coy, having fun with riling him up, and turn your head to the side to avoid his kiss.

“Aw, come on, puppy.” Haechan teases affectionately, his nose tracing down your jawline before he brushes his parted lips against your neck. “Don’t get all shy on me now. Where’d that attitude go?”

“Still here,” you mumble stubbornly, and he chuckles.

“So let me give you the attention you so desperately wanted earlier,” he offers, sounding more smug than ever, and you splutter indignantly, turning back to glare at him.

“I was not desperate—” you begin to protest, but Haechan flashes you a triumphant grin before leaning in and sealing the gap between his lips and yours. You whine almost instantly under him, body thrumming with excitement as he moves his lips against yours and teases them apart to guide his tongue into your mouth.

When his tongue strokes against yours for the first time, he groans in delight and breaks the kiss, resting his forehead against yours as you both take deep breaths. 

“You taste like candy.” Haechan murmurs appreciatively.

“It’s probably the gummy worms,” you remind him, and he nods thoughtfully. 

“Well, whatever it is, I can’t get enough of it,” he confesses, barely giving you a chance to respond before he’s kissing you again. His hips pin yours to the bed, his body pressing down on yours so firmly that you’re not sure if you could get up on your own.

Not that you’re complaining.

His hand moves quickly, on a mission as he slips it between you two and slides under the waistband of your leggings. He strokes at your core through the underwear, a wicked smile curling his lips when he feels the damp spot from your arousal.

“Poor puppy,” he coos in mock sympathy, pressing against your clit hard enough to make you whimper. “All you wanted was my attention, yeah?”

“Don’t call me puppy,” you whine, and he kisses down your neck to suck and kiss above your pulse point.

“I know you like it,” he pants, his breath fanning over your neck, “you know you like it; why fight it?”

“Shut up,” you complain, your hips moving up to meet his teasing touches. 

“Fine,” Haechan murmurs, seeming to let it go (which you find suspicious). “How about ‘baby?’”

“I like ‘baby,’” you mumble, jolting in surprise when he finds your clit through your underwear. “‘Baby’ is good.”

“Glad we agree.” He doesn’t say much else, returning his attention to occupying his lips, which are lazily mouthing at your neck, and fingers, which are teasingly dipping into your underwear. 

Getting fed up with his taunting, you squeeze your legs together tightly, letting out a small “hmph” of finality, and he chuckles, withdrawing his fingers.

“I knew you wanted to play.” He nips at your neck one last time before lifting his head and ghosting his lips against yours. His fingers dig between where your thighs meet, poking, prodding, and pinching as he tries to force his hand between your legs. “Baby,” he purrs, voice low and sweet, “be good and let me in.”

You just huff again, trying (and ultimately failing) to suppress your growing smile at his persistent attack on your legs.

“Fine,” he says with a shrug, retracting his hand from between your legs. “You leave me no choice.” His fingers immediately press into your sides, tickling you, and you shriek with laughter, squirming helplessly under him. 

He watches you with a glint in his eyes and a grin on his face as he sits up, now using both hands to torment you.

You, meanwhile, have tears welling up in your eyes from how hard you’re laughing, and you weakly hit at his chest, your muscles seizing up from the attack.

“Stop!” you gasp, pushing at his hands desperately. “I’m sorry!”

“Are you really?” He raises an eyebrow, and you nod vigorously in agreement.

“I am! I’m so—please—I’m so sorry!” you cry pleadingly, and he moves so quickly that you don’t even get time to process the situation until he’s done. He pushes your hands above your head, gripping your wrists with one hand, and brings his free hand back between your legs.

“So you’ll be good?” That damn eyebrow is getting to you, the brow still raised as he cocks his head at you.

“Yes,” you say with a frown, and he coos in mock sympathy, kissing you and slipping his hand into your underwear. He looks down at where your bodies meet and traces circles all over your skin, slowly inching lower and lower until he brushes past your clit and parts your folds, looking back up at you with a cocky smile.

“You’re already so wet,” he teases, wetting his lips before he dips his head down to kiss your neck. “Do you want me inside?”

“Yes,” you breathe, and he grins against your neck.

“Yeah? Want my fingers inside you?” He’s teasing you again, urging you to ask for his fingers, and your patience starts to dwindle.

“Yes,” you repeat through your clenched teeth.

He hums thoughtfully and pushes his fingers into you slowly, removing his lips from your neck to watch you as you moan in relief. “That’s a good puppy,” he purrs as he drinks in your reactions to his experimental movements of his fingers. 

“Not puppy,” you whine, but he silences you with a kiss, moving his fingers in and out of you quickly. 

“I think you like it,” he mumbles, biting down on your bottom lip gently before bringing his lips to your ear. “Don’t you, puppy?” Your moan slips out accidentally, and he inhales sharply when you clench around his fingers. “Knew it.”

His fingers curl inside of you slowly, drawing out a whimper from you as he strokes along your inner walls, in search of your most sensitive spot. Your hips rock up into his hand, craving more of him, and he responds by pushing your hips back down and giving you exactly what you want. He pushes his fingers deeper, as deep as they can go, and his fingers finally find the spot along your walls that makes you moan and clutch at his arm desperately.

“There—right there—fuck,” you say breathlessly, and he nods, keeping his pace and using his thumb to massage your clit in eager circles that bring you closer to your climax.

“You wanna cum?” Haechan coos, and you nod vigorously, making a smirk curl his lips. “Say you’re my puppy.”

“Wh-what?” You stammer, confused, and he slows his pace, making you grasp his arm tightly in panic. “Don’t stop!”

“What are you?” he presses, moving at a frustratingly slow rhythm. You cry out weakly, and he raises an eyebrow. “Hm?”

“I’m—Haechan, please—”

“Say it, and I’ll make you feel so good. Whose puppy are you?”

“I’m yours—” you whimper, and he nods encouragingly.

“My what?”

“Your puppy, Haechan, please—” you beg, and he grins widely, nodding again.

“Cum for me, puppy.” Haechan urges you, and you finally let go, the coil in your stomach snapping and letting pleasure wash over you. Your nails dig into Haechan’s arm so hard that you’re sure you’ll owe him an apology, and he hisses, the sound a mixture of pain and pleasure, as you whimper his name and “please” over and over again. “God, I want to feel that when I’m inside you so bad.”

“You can,” you say with a smile, propping yourself up on your forearms. “You can fuck me.”

“Fuck, don’t say that,” Haechan grunts, his expression tortured. “I can’t—”

“You can,” you urge, pushing yourself up onto your hands and bringing your face to his. “You don’t even have to fuck me entirely—you can just put in the tip.” When he opens his eyes and looks at you, his expression is defeated, hopeful, and delightedly vulnerable. “Come on, Haechan. Just the tip,” you murmur, your lips a centimeter apart.

He stares at your lips in a daze before nodding slowly. “Just the tip.”

He makes quick work of discarding his pants and pushing his boxers down so his length springs up and lightly slaps against his stomach, and he looks up at you and chuckles, the sound a bit bashful. “Stop looking at me like that.” 

You hadn’t realized you were looking at him in any particular way. “Like what?”

“Like you’re about to eat me alive.” Haechan mumbles, and you smile.

“So, the way you look at me all the time?”

“Yeah, like that.” Haechan grins cheekily and hovers over you, his hand moving to the base of his length and gripping it. When you don’t move and stay propped up, watching him with a challenge in your eyes, he pauses. “What is it?”

“I wanna be on top,” you reply simply, and he shakes his head.

“Too bad. I wanna be on top.” 

You stare at him defiantly.

He stares back at you stubbornly.

You raise an eyebrow.

He looks from your eyes to your lips and back up before he groans in defeat and sits against his headboard. “Fine.”

“Yay,” you say with a wide smile, shimmying out of your leggings and underwear and moving to straddle his lap. You wrap your hand around his on his length and slowly stroke him up and down. “You’re so big, Haechan.”

“Thank you, puppy,” Haechan coos teasingly, bumping his nose against yours as you position yourself on top of him, bringing the head of his length to your entrance. He rubs the tip against your folds, collecting your arousal to use as a lubricant. “You ready?”

“Yeah,” you breathe, easing yourself down. To your disappointment, Haechan uses his fist as an obstacle to prevent you from sitting all the way down on his length, so you really do get just the tip. The stretch isn’t unwelcome at all, your walls slowly adjusting to his size, and you let out a shaky moan that he echoes when you clench around him. “Feels so good, Haechan,” you mumble, resting your forehead against his. 

“So fucking good, baby.” Haechan agrees, his fist slipping a bit further down his length and making him hiss. 

“Just a little more? It’ll be okay, I just need a little more,” you plead, pouting for good measure, and his face scrunches up in thought. “Please?” You tilt his head up and carefully slot your lips with his, kissing him slowly but deeply as your walls tighten around him.

“Just a little more,” Haechan gives in with a shudder, and you smile as you ease down further, Haechan groaning and thumping his head against his headboard repeatedly in distress. “Maybe a little more, baby.” 

You can barely hide your sneaky smile as you oblige, easing down on his length even more, and he moans weakly, his head tipping back. You lean forward and kiss his neck, sucking lovely little marks into his skin, and he grabs your hips with both hands, fingers digging into the skin as he tilts his head back more to allow you better access.

“More?” Your lips are pressed to his heated skin as you speak, and he groans before shaking his head.

“I can’t, baby. Feels like I’m gonna cum,” he grunts, and you whine as you squeeze around him, carefully studying his reactions. His hips hold you firmly in place so you can’t move further down on him, and his breathing is heavy, eyes screwed shut. “Fuck—do not do that again.”

“Do what? This?” You clench again, and he lets out a strangled groan, hands squeezing your hips harder as a warning. “What about this?” You lift yourself up, pulling off of him most of the way, and sitting back down. He swears so loudly that you momentarily hope no one else is home and his resolve visibly weakens, his hold on your hips loosening enough to let you slowly ease down all the way onto him, a relieved sigh escaping you as he shudders, a moan vibrating in his chest. “Just cum, Haechan,” you coax in his ear, nipping at the lobe gently. “You know you want to.”

“I’m not losing this bet.” He sounds determined, but even a fool could detect the waver in his resilience. 

“But doesn’t this feel so good?” You rock your hips forward onto him, and he exhales loudly through gritted teeth, nodding vigorously.

“Feels amazing, baby.” Haechan agrees, finally tipping his head forward to look at you. “Which is why you’re going to cum, and I’m going to watch.”

“Only way I’m going to cum is if you do it with me.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Haechan snorts dismissively, and you raise an eyebrow, already pulling off of him. His eyes fly open and he yanks you back down onto him, realizing a moment too late what he’s done. Pleasure shoots through his body so strongly that you can practically track its movement through the shudders that travel through him, and he drops his head onto your chest in defeat.

“Are you gonna cum?” you ask, and he shakes his head hesitantly, making you sigh. “Then I’m leaving.” Before he can move to stop you, you push his hands off of you and pull off of him, toughening up to mask the strange, now empty sensation between your legs. 

“God, you’re evil.” He stares at you, aghast, and you shrug, pulling on your leggings and underwear. You climb off of the bed and grab your sweater from where it fell after hitting Haechan, and his eyes widen. “You’re seriously leaving?” 

“Yep.”

“At least—” he starts, and you hesitate as you prepare to pull your sweater over your head. “At least let me make you cum again,” he offers, wild eyes roving over you desperately. “With my mouth.”

“As tempting as that sounds,” you hum, pulling the sweater over your head and fixing it at the bottom, “no. You might pounce on me afterwards, and if you’re not cumming, it’s no fun.”

“Okay, fair. I definitely might pounce on you.” Haechan sighs, rubbing his chin as he watches you get ready to leave. “You’d let me though; you can’t resist me.”

“What makes you think that?” You laugh, and he looks at you with an unimpressed stare.

“I just seduced the fuck out of you,” he points out, and you barely stifle your laugh.

“Haechan.” You stare at him incredulously. “Do you seriously think this was all your idea?”

“Duh?”

You sigh, lifting up your sweater and shirt enough to show him your lacy blue bra. His eyes widen before they darken, and you roll your eyes as he wets his lips, shifting closer to you. You drop your shirt and sweater back into place and pull your leggings down just enough to give him a peek of your lacy underwear in the identical shade of blue. “I wore matching underwear today. This was never not my intention.” You fix your clothing again as he gapes at you in disbelief.

“So you used me for my body?!” Haechan exclaims, his horrified expression dropping in favor of a pensive one. “Why is that kind of hot?”

You pause in the middle of lacing up your boots, shooting him a concerned look. “I think the counseling office is still open if you wanna book a session.”

“Ha, ha.” Haechan laughs sarcastically, scooting to the edge of his bed. You look around for your bag, and he gestures to it sitting just by his bed. You go over to look through it for your headphones, and Haechan eyes you wordlessly as you do.

“Anyway, I have business to attend to.” You straighten up with your headphones in your hand and shoulder your bag, moving to leave. Haechan’s hand shoots out and grabs your arm, yanking you back to him so you’re standing between his legs. He’s readjusted his pants, you notice, and he’s staring up at you with a doubtful frown.

“What business do you have to attend to?” He pokes his fingers through the knitting of your sweater with a petulant expression. “If you say watching paint dry again, I swear to God—”

“Relax, it’s not watching paint dry.” You laugh and he chuckles, not looking up at you yet. “My business is being somewhere that’s not here.”

“You little—”

“Besides,” you continue loudly as if he hasn’t interjected, “I have my vibrator waiting at home to finish what you started.” Haechan stills, slowly looking up at you and scanning your face for any sign of a joke.

You give no such indication, and he closes his eyes and breathes in loudly through his nose, exhaling out of his mouth. He releases you, eyes gazing at you with an unreadable expression. “Yeah, you’d better get going.”

“Why the sudden change?” you ask curiously, and he shamelessly looks you up and down.

“I’m feeling…pounce-y.” 

“Okay, then!” You nod in understanding and step back, backing towards his door. “Have fun thinking about…whatever you gotta think about to make that go away,” you snicker, gesturing at the obvious bulge in his pants.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Haechan grumbles bitterly, standing up and making his way over to his gaming chair. “See you later.”

“Bye,” you sing-song, wiggling your fingers at him in a wave. “I’ll think of you while I do it.”

“If you don’t get out of my room—”

“Okay, bye!” 

Friday, November 28th. 

You’re sitting at home pretending to do your homework when your phone lights up. You practically pounce on it, eager for a distraction, and look at your lock screen to see a text message from Mark.

mark: hey

you: hiii i’m bored

mark: me too 

mark: i’m at work on my lunch break

you: ohhh i’m “doing homework”

mark: hahaha that doesn’t sound fun

you: it’s not :/ this essay is due december 3rd though so i gotta get it done

mark: december’s so close wow

mark: i’m so happy november’s almost over

And with his last text, Mark gives you a very good idea of how you could best spend your time this afternoon. You root through your underwear drawer and take out one of your nicer sets of underwear and a bra, putting them on and putting your old t-shirt back on, ditching the sweatpants you were wearing. 

you: yeah

you: hey mark can you help me choose something?

mark: sure what’s up?

Actually, why not mess with both of them at the same time?

you: actually hang on one sec

[you have created a group chat.]

[you have added ‘mark’ to the chat.]

[you have added ‘haechan’ to the chat.]

you: hii i need your opinions on something

mark: why the group chat haha

you: it’s faster than texting you both separately :)

haechan: what’s up? i’m in class right now

A mischievous smile curls your lips as you take a picture of your outfit, making sure the t-shirt is high up enough on your thighs to make it clear there are no shorts underneath. 

you: should i wear this to sleep?

you: Attachment: 1 image

haechan: oh my god

mark: shit

you: or should i take the t-shirt off?

haechan: take it off.

mark: haechan shut up it’s still november

you: what do you think, mark?

mark: keep the shirt on 

mark: please. i’m still at work

you: :( but it’s hot in my room

haechan: yeah mark it’s hot in her room

haechan: take it off, baby

mark: dude do you like being blue balled or something 

You pull the t-shirt off and toss it on your chair by your desk, angling your body to take the most flattering picture of your lingerie set. When you’re satisfied with the picture, you send it to the group chat, giggling as you wait for their responses.

you: Attachment: 1 image

you: is this better?

haechan: you are so fucking hot

haechan: mark tell her how hot she is

mark: don’t tell me what to do haechan

haechan: i will not get cheated out of nudes because you don’t know how to give a compliment

you: it’s okay, haechan :p mark’s at work so he’s busy too 

mark: exactly. you look very attractive btw

[you loved ‘exactly. you look very attractive btw’]

[haechan disliked ‘exactly. you look very attractive btw’]

haechan: “very attractive” what a nerd

haechan: you should just text me now. mark’s ungrateful

mark: haechan shut. the fuck. up.

you: thank you mark :) should i do what haechan says?

haechan: yes do what haechan says

mark: haechan i will piss in your shampoo

mark: don’t you dare stop texting this group chat

you: oooh bossy 

you: that’s hot

haechan: god i can’t stop looking at those pictures baby

you: i’m glad you like them :) but i have another problem now :(

mark: what’s that?

haechan: what’s wrong?

you: i’m lonely :( i’m home all alone with no one to keep me company

mark: you’re killing me

mark: you’re actually going to be the death of me

haechan: ignore him keep talking

haechan: god i wish i wasn’t in class right now

you: yeah? where do you wish you were?

haechan: honestly? 

haechan: with you. on you. under you. in you for sure

mark: haechan in front of my lunch? seriously?

haechan: not my fault you don’t have game

mark: dude stop testing me

you: mark i wish you were here too :(

mark: oh my god don’t do this someone just walked into the break room

Another idea comes to you, and you angle the camera at your body again, this time starting a video. You cup your breast and squeeze it, humming contently before trailing your hand down your stomach and between your legs where you slip it into your underwear, sighing in relief right as you stop filming.

you: Attachment: 1 video

mark: no fucking way

haechan: oh my god

There’s a pause in their replies as they presumably watch the video you sent and you take the moment of silence to think about your next moves.

haechan: you sound so pretty

haechan: so fucking pretty baby

mark: i’m going to pass out i think

mark: why are you doing this???

you: because i like when you both pay attention to me. remember?

haechan: i can pay attention to you way better than mark can

mark: you can’t even pay attention to the damn class you’re in right now.

haechan: who gives a rat’s ass what Professor Park has to say when there’s a hot girl’s pictures in my phone??????

haechan: anyway. baby can i hear you again?

mark: dude i’m getting hard right now can you not 

you: stop calling me dude :(

mark: sorry

mark: what should i call you?

you: up to you—just not dude

mark: okay

you: or bro

mark: aw hell

While Mark takes the time to think, you send a video of your legs slowly spreading as your hand moves in your underwear, concealing what they undoubtedly want to see most as you play with your clit. When the pleasure starts to build, you let out a small whimper and speed your movements up, stopping the video right after your legs close around your hand reflexively.

you: Attachment: 1 video

haechan: god thank you so much

haechan: such pretty sounds baby

mark: babe please my dick is so hard right now 

haechan: join the club i’ve been straining against my pants for the past five minutes

you: pics or it didn’t happen

haechan: Attachment: 1 image

mark: i’m in public!!!!!

haechan: and you think i’m not??? 

mark: i can’t send a pic right now

haechan: pussy.

mark: fuck you

mark: Attachment: 1 image

You smile in satisfaction at the sight of both of their pictures. Mark’s picture is of him both gripping and trying to conceal the noticeable bulge in his pants, while Haechan is proudly gripping the base of his shaft, not even trying to hide himself.

you: thank you :) god you’re both so big

you: wish i had you both taking turns filling me up :(

haechan: why stop at taking turns?

you: i like the way you think

mark: okay this is fun and all but i need this boner to go down immediately i have to go back to work soon

you: okay! i’ll stop :)

haechan: WHAT

haechan: NO

haechan: i have like twenty minutes left of class please keep sending gifts baby

you: no i can’t :/ mark’s got a point—you shouldn’t be getting hard in public

you: it’s public indecency :////

haechan: fuck the public

you: fuck me instead

haechan: don’t tempt me

you: too bad it’s still november :( have fun not jerking off

mark: wait a minute

mark: you’ve been fucking with us on purpose all month haven’t you

you: ? idk what you’re talking about

mark: oh my god

haechan: wait mark’s right

you: :( okay you got me

you: are you mad at me :(

mark: no you’re just in for it

haechan: for once i agree with mark. watch your back baby

you: pfft watch my back for what? yOuR rEvEnGe?

mark: yeah just keep laughing babe. i gotta go back to work

you: i’m gonna go finish myself off then finish my essay. have fun with your boners! :)

haechan: you’re actually wicked

you: :(

haechan: it’s hot.

you: :)

You put your phone down and reach into your nightstand drawer for your vibrator, giggling under your breath as you think about the conversation you just had. Sure, they figured out you were making things hard—no pun intended—for them on purpose, and they’re probably going to get some sort of revenge, but you figure that’s a problem for Future You to handle.

 Tuesday, December 1st.

Yeah, so…it is now officially a problem for Future You to handle. 

When Haechan texted you asking if you wanted to get lunch with him, you almost agreed before remembering the last interaction you had when you sent him videos and pictures of yourself while he was in class.

When you declined, and his response was “smart girl,” you realized you may be in a bit over your head.

If that wasn’t bad enough, you caught Mark staring at you with an unreadable look from across the student center when you went to meet Lia for lunch (an hour after Haechan asked you, to avoid seeing him). When he started to make his way over to you, you grabbed Lia’s wrist and disappeared into the throng of people passing by.

If that wasn’t bad enough, in your last class you went to, you saw Haechan looking in the window, smirking when he caught sight of you. He brought his index and middle finger to his mouth, spread them, and wagged his tongue between them in an obscene gesture that had you gasping and drawing the attention of your seatmate. When you looked back at the window, he was gone, but your phone lit up with a text. 

haechan: found you :)

So you’ve spent the last half of your day hiding in your apartment, turning off your phone location and holing yourself up in your room.

“Don’t you think you’re being a bit dramatic?” Yeji snickers when you jump at the sound of the doorbell. Lia pats your hand comfortingly before she heads over to get the door.

“You didn’t see how they looked at me today!” you whisper-yell back at her, brows furrowing.

“No, she’s got a point,” Lia chimes in, drawing your and Yeji’s attention as she returns from getting the door with a package in her arms. After a moment, she continues, “I mean, Mark was…I’ve never seen him look like that.”

“Right?!” you exclaim, relieved Lia gets it.

“I mean, worst case scenario is that they fuck you. And if this month has been any indication, you clearly want that, so—”

“Yeah, but what if they team up and get all evil?” you counter, and Lia scoffs.

“Threesomes are rarer than people think. What are the odds they’re both gonna decide to team up and share you?” Lia replies, and you frown.

“Yeji, back me up here!” you whine, looking at her, but she raises both hands and walks towards the hallway. 

“I’m going to my room. As a wise man once said, ‘no fighting.’”

You and Lia pause. 

“Who said that?” Lia raises an eyebrow and you both stare at Yeji in confusion.

“Wyclef Jean.” Yeji answers. You and Lia look at each other and back at Yeji. “In ‘Hips Don’t Lie’ by Shakira?” she tries again. You and Lia stare at her blankly. “Forget it. No one in this house appreciates my genius.” She turns and heads off to her room and a moment passes between you and Lia before she stands up as well, walking backwards towards the hallway leading to her room.

“You’re safe,” Lia assures you. As she turns around and walks away, you hear her mutter, “probably.”

“Hey!”

About an hour later, the doorbell rings again.

“Can someone get that?” Lia calls out from the bathroom. ���It’s probably my other package!”

“Why can’t you get it?” Yeji calls back.

“I’m getting dressed from taking a shower!”

You and Yeji emerge from your rooms for a quick round of rock, paper, scissors—which you lose.

“Damn it.” You roll your eyes and walk to the front door as Yeji heads back to her room. You open the door to see no one—but there is a package on your doorstep like Lia said. 

“This girl and her online shopping addiction,” you mumble, stooping to pick it up. You move to shut the door but it stops unexpectedly, a shoe jammed in the way. Your eyes widen. 

You know that shoe.

“Oh, shit.” 

The body attached to the familiar shoe shoulders his way past the door, Haechan standing in front of you with raised eyebrows and a smug smile.

“Oh, shit.” Haechan echoes you tauntingly, stepping towards you. You watch as Mark enters after him, shutting the door behind himself. 

You look at them.

They look at you.

You turn on your heel, drop the package, and make a run for it.

You take off down the hallway to your room as their rapid footsteps thunder after you. You can’t help but shriek in panic (and, if you’re honest, a bit of delight) as they chase you further into the apartment, your heart racing as you clear your doorway and turn to shut the door. 

One of them is quicker, however, and shoves his shoulder in the space, keeping the door from shutting. Unfortunately, the two of them are stronger than you, you learn very quickly as they force the door wide open and bombard their way into the room. 

Haechan wastes absolutely no time, stepping forward and shoving you none too gently onto your bed before climbing on top of you. It feels like there’s a scream stuck in your throat as he roughly pins your arms above your head with one hand, cupping your chin with the other. 

Bringing his lips to your ear, Haechan speaks slowly, stressing every syllable. “We’re gonna fuck the shit out of you.” Mark’s busying himself with sliding his hands up your thighs and yanking your shorts down your legs, and you wriggle under Haechan’s body, crossing your legs stubbornly.

“Yeji and Lia are home!” you exclaim, raising your voice in an attempt to get the attention of at least one of them. As if on cue, you hear the unmistakable sound of the front door unlocking.

“No, we’re not!” Lia calls out, and the door slams shut, the locks clicking into place.

“Oh, fuck.” You can barely get the words out before Haechan seals his lips over yours, kissing you deeply. 

“You are such a tease,” Mark grunts through gritted teeth, presumably giving you a taste of your own medicine as he wrenches your legs apart. The thrill of being chased with the inevitable ending of getting fucked stupid has you positively buzzing with excitement, some of that excitement manifesting as a slick little damp stain on the seat of your underwear. 

You move to protest, but Haechan slips his tongue in your mouth the second your lips part, your complaint melting against his tongue as he works the pink muscle against your own.

Mark’s chuckle lets you know he’s caught sight of the wet spot, and he presses two fingers against the stain, pushing the digits against you so insistently that you could almost swear Mark is trying to finger you with your flimsy underwear as a condom.

“Left us high and dry so many times last month,” Haechan scolds you, mouth still pressed against yours. “That wasn’t very nice of you.”

“Bet you had fun thinking about blue-balling us, didn’t you?” Mark asks, and you jerk your head to the side to break the kiss Haechan refuses to let up on, loudly sucking in a greedy breath before you speak.

“I did.” you retort, smiling sweetly. “I had some really good orgasms thinking about you two, too.” 

“You can be smug all you want,” Haechan chuckles, his lips sponging wet kisses down your jaw to your neck. “Let’s see how smug you are when we’re done with you.” His words excite you even more, an eager whimper falling from your lips as Mark withdraws his fingers from you and pulls your underwear to the side. 

You feel the warmth of his breath as he exhales against your core and it makes you that much more impatient, letting out a grunt of frustration as you buck your hips up towards his mouth. 

“You played with us all of November,” Haechan reminds you, pushing your hips back down. “It’s our turn to play with you.”

“Such a pretty fuckin’ pussy,” Mark groans as he rests what you assume to be his cheek on your inner thigh, depriving you of any sort of actual contact. 

“Oh, my God, do something!” you complain after a painfully long time of waiting. It was probably less than fifteen seconds, really, but you’re incredibly worked up and not in the mood to take your time.

“Haechan, shut her up.” Mark mutters, and Haechan chuckles. 

“Gladly.” he replies, and two fingers are pressing at your lips insistently. “Open up.” Any other time, you’d have the wherewithal to be embarrassed by how easily you comply with his order, but today, you’ll let it slide. Your lips part readily and your tongue lolls out, Haechan humming in impressed delight as he presses the pads of his fingers to your tongue. 

You suck on his fingers lazily, your eyes already glazing over with pleasure from having some sort of touch, and Mark takes the opportunity to attach his mouth to your core, dragging his tongue up and down your folds with an almost animalistic fervor. 

Your moan of surprise is muffled by Haechan’s fingers as he releases your wrists, pulls your shirt up past your breasts, and slips his hand under you to unclip your bra with surprising ease. He yanks your bra off with rushed, jerky movements, immediately latching onto your nipple and sucking at the stiffened bud, swirling his tongue around it.

“Shit,” you whine, muffled still by Haechan’s fingers, and he just chuckles from around your nipple, the resulting vibrations feeling heavenly. 

Mark’s tongue explores your folds as he groans, loud and pleased, the almost ticklish sensation making arousal flutter in the pit of your stomach. He tucks one of your legs over his shoulder, moving in so close that when his tongue prods at your entrance, his nose rubs against your clit.

Haechan flicks your nipple back and forth with his tongue, his free hand groping your other breast and pinching at the bud until you hiss in pleasure and arch your back. He buries his face in your chest at the same time that Mark’s tongue pushes past your entrance and you squeal in delight, your hands both flying to their heads, tugging their hair to pull them closer to you.

Mark’s so lost in the sensation of his tongue peeking inside your core and the taste of you that he barely notices, a weak groan slipping out presumably without his knowledge. Haechan, however, responds by taking your nipple between his teeth and biting down ever so slightly until you try to squirm away, at which point he kisses it and switches to your other breast to repeat his earlier ministrations.

You’re on cloud nine at this point, your hips rolling up to get you closer to Mark’s mouth, and he lets out a noise somewhere between a growl and a moan as he throws one arm over your stomach to pin you in place, his tongue retreating from your core in favor of lapping at the arousal leaking from you.

“You like that, yeah?” Mark’s voice is throaty, thick from desire and lack of use, and when you whimper in affirmation, he lets out a breathless but cocky laugh before pushing two fingers into you, guiding the digits into you with no prior warning and carefully working you open as you get used to the slight stretch. “Yeah, I know you fucking like it,” he murmurs more to himself than you, his mind reeling with how his lips are still carrying the taste of you as he opens you up with his fingers, pumping and curling them rhythmically. 

Haechan sits up, moving off of you to kneel by your side, pulls his fingers from your mouth, a string of saliva webbing between his fingers and your lips, and chuckles smugly as he smears the spit over your lips messily. Your cheeks burn in humiliation when he swipes under your lips to display more spit on his fingers.

“Mark, she’s drooling.” Haechan says with a mischievous sort of glee, and Mark hums in acknowledgement, brows furrowed in concentration as he finger-fucks you. “You’re making a pathetic little mess of yourself and you haven’t even cum yet.”

Mark meets your gaze, grinning with bright eyes before leaning down to suck your clit into his mouth, rapidly flicking it with his tongue as his fingers pump in and out of you rapidly, curled just right to hit your most sensitive spot that has you crying out in pleasure.

Haechan pinches your chin and shakes your head from side to side abruptly, wordlessly diverting your attention away from Mark and back to him. “What do we say when we make such a mess, hm?”

“S-Sorry,” you gasp, clutching the bedsheets in your fist as Mark’s fingers speed up. 

“Are we gonna keep making a mess?” Haechan pouts condescendingly before shaking your head from side to side. “No, we’re not? Are you sure, puppy?” He nods your head and tuts disapprovingly. “I don’t think I believe you.” He taps your cheek with two fingers and you open your mouth. “Tongue.” You comply, laying your tongue out flat, and he leans over you and lets a string of saliva drip from his lips onto your tongue. 

You whine in desperation at the warm sensation of the spit, but let it slide to the back of your throat without swallowing. Haechan brings his fingers back to your lips, bringing his face directly in front of yours, and pushes them to the back of your throat, smiling in satisfaction when you choke and cough, tears welling up in the corners of your eyes.

“What’d I say?” Haechan teases matter-of-factly. “So fucking sloppy.” He retracts his fingers again and studies your face with fascination as you swallow thickly. 

“Sorry,” you say shamefully, your eyes threatening to shut from the sensations Mark is causing between your legs, and Haechan lets out a small chuckle, leaning even closer to you.

“You’re lucky I like it messy.” He kisses you again, deep and hot and wet and filthy with sinful moans into your mouth that you inadvertently echo as Mark brings you closer and closer to a climax.

“Please, oh, fuck—I’m gonna cum—” you moan against Haechan’s lips, practically trembling with need, and Mark only offers a grunt in response, making lewd wet noises as he laps at your core with an almost feral determination you’ve never seen from him before. 

“Cum, puppy. Cum all over Mark’s fingers.” Haechan murmurs, punctuating his words with increasingly needier kisses, and you do cum—hard, as a matter of fact. In an attempt to keep your volume down, you bite down on your bottom lip so hard that you’re surprised it doesn’t break the skin. Haechan tugs your lip free just in time for you to cry out loudly when Mark doesn’t stop, fingers still fucking into you and mouth still on your clit. 

You push at Mark’s shoulders in a panic, but he barely budges, Haechan helping him out by catching your hands and holding them in place on the bed. Mark removes his lips from your core with a wet smacking sound and presses down on your lower abdomen with his free hand, heightening your pleasure practically tenfold, and you’re downright ashamed of the volume of the cry you let out.

“Stop,” you pant, squirming frantically under their firm hold on you, “that feels—oh, my God, I’m gonna—”

“Are you gonna cum again?” Haechan coos patronizingly, and you shake your head vehemently.

“Feels like I’m gonna piss myself or pass the fuck out—” You muster all your strength and wrestle one of your hands free from Haechan’s grip to grab the wrist of Mark’s hand that’s pressing on your lower stomach. “Oh, shit, please—”

“Keep going, Mark,” Haechan urges, watching you in awe. “Maybe she’ll squirt.” The gleam in his eyes both terrifies and excites you as a second, stronger climax builds inside of you. 

“I’m sorry!” You sob, your voice cracking. “I’m sorry for messing with you for all of last month!”

“I bet you are sorry.” Mark mutters through clenched teeth, darkened eyes rapidly shifting from your core to your face. “Too bad we’re not done with you.”

As if on cue, your second orgasm hits you and it takes everything in you not to burst into tears from the overwhelming pleasure. Your body exerts practically all of its energy by trying to curl in on itself protectively, your body still subconsciously fucking back onto Mark’s fingers in search of every last bit of pleasure you can draw from him.

Finally having mercy, Mark pulls his fingers from you and shakes his other hand free of your grip, standing up straight and watching along with Haechan as you attempt to recover.

“You didn’t piss yourself or pass out.” Haechan points out, brows furrowed to match his petulant frown.

“You sound disappointed,” you half-exhale, half-laugh, trying and failing to prop yourself up on your weak feeling arms. “I also didn’t squirt like you wanted.”

“The night’s still young,” Haechan responds, and you blanch, trying to sit up again in alarm.

“You can’t be serious.”

“Dead serious, actually.” Mark pipes up, and you look between them with a mix of fear and anticipation swirling in your stomach. “You blue-balled us, what…seven times? More?”

“All together, it was eight times between the both of us.” Haechan points out, and you let out a strangled shriek, shaking your head as hard as you can.

“For the love of God, if you try to make me cum eight times today, I think my clit will actually break off or something.”

“Relax.” Haechan lies down next to you, trailing the backs of his fingers down your body between your breasts and down your stomach. “We’ll make you pay it off, like a debt. You can pay in installments.” He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively at you as his fingers draw closer to your throbbing core, and you smack his hand away, dramatically flopping over onto your stomach in a last-ditch attempt to protect yourself.

“You’re both insane,” you complain, words muffled by your faceful of pillow. “I can’t cum again.” 

“You can,” Mark says, sounding much closer than before, and two hands grip your hips, lifting you up onto your knees. “And you will.”

“Oh, dear Neptune,” you whine, bracing yourself on your elbows. 

Haechan snickers. “Whining and complaining, but you still got into position like a good little puppy.”

“Shut up,” you grumble, and you feel Mark positioning himself behind you on the bed, one hand pressing down on the small of your back to deepen your arch, and both males groan appreciatively.

“You look so good like this,” Mark grunts, pressing the head of his length to your entrance and rubbing it up and down your embarrassingly wet folds, collecting arousal to use as lubrication. 

Without so much as a warning, Mark grips your hip with one hand and guides himself into you, smoothly bottoming out. You both react strongly, your head falling onto your linked hands as a whine filled with need leaves your lips while Mark swears loudly, his fingers digging into your hip uncomfortably hard.

“Mark, you’re so big, holy shit,” you stammer, swallowing thickly as he pulls out slowly, almost entirely, before snapping his hips forward and resheathing himself inside of you. You cry out weakly, your walls flexing around his length, and Mark hisses with pleasure, repeating the motion as he gradually builds up an almost brutal pace.

“You’re so wet, fuck,” Mark groans, his words tapering off into an uncharacteristically smug chuckle. “This feels good, yeah?”

“Mhm,” you whimper, the sounds of skin slapping against skin almost drowning you out. “So good, Mark—”

Haechan, previously content with just watching for a moment, loses his patience, lifting your head up and urging you up onto your hands. He maneuvers himself under you, pulling his cock out of his sweats and stroking himself slowly as he watches you get fucked, your eyes glazing over with pleasure.

“Open,” Haechan says for the second time, guiding his length into your mouth and leaning back with a relieved sigh. “Suck.”

To be honest, you can barely focus on sucking Haechan off with Mark fucking into you with all the desperation of a man who’ll never fuck again. Mark’s always been passionate, but you’ve always experienced that aspect of him in a tamer sense of the word; this man you’re getting to know now is passionate—rough and sensual and animalistic, the way he’s taking you with dominant, forceful strokes.

Haechan’s derisive chuckle snaps you out of your reverie, your eyes refocusing on him, and he’s looking down at you with an unimpressed expression, an eyebrow arched.

“You’re drooling all over my lap, you know.” He almost sounds bored, and your face warms with embarrassment.

“S—” you start to mumble around his length, but he cuts you off.

“Sorry? Don’t be sorry. Fix it.” He gestures at his lap, and you blink up at him in confusion. He sighs and chuckles, the sound surprisingly fond given the circumstances. “You’re so cute, baby. Lick it up.” He murmurs, tone surprisingly gentle as he gives such a degrading order.

“Wh—”

“You heard me.” His gaze is intimidating, to say the least, and he looks down at his lap and length pointedly. “Start here.” He presses your mouth against the flesh of his upper thigh, the tip of your nose coming back cool and wet with your saliva. You avert your gaze shamefully and start to lap at the surprising amount of drool you managed to produce in such a short amount of time, but Haechan tuts disapprovingly, catching your attention once more. “Look at me when you do it.”

Your face burns hotter than you even thought it was capable of but you continue, maintaining eye contact and licking up your saliva from both of his thighs. He strokes himself almost lazily as you do, eyes heavy-lidded with desire and his tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth as he concentrates on you.

Mark and Haechan seem to be silently fighting for your attention, because Mark’s thrusts escalate to an almost bruising pace while you’re tending to Haechan and he reaches around you to rub your clit, persisting even when you frantically try to swat his hand away.

“Be good, baby,” Mark murmurs distractedly as his hips continue to snap into yours. “Can you take it? For me?” As sweet as he sounds, it’s obvious to everyone in the room that you don’t have much of a choice. 

You’re at the mercy of both of them, and not only do they know, but they know you know, and they know you know they know.

“Okay,” you whimper quietly, and they both laugh.

“She’s learning,” Haechan coos, stroking your hair with his free hand. He taps the head of his length against your mouth, smiling when you take him into your mouth and start to bob your head, your tongue gliding against the underside of his shaft and helping you move up and down smoothly. “Just like that, baby.” Haechan groans, his head falling back as he pushes your head down until your nose is pressed against his lower abdomen and his tip prods at the back of your throat. 

You struggle to take it all in, but you finally manage, your throat reflexively swallowing around him, and he moans loudly, holding you in place as he thrusts up into your mouth with shallow pumps. You struggle to remember to breathe through your nose and tears prick at the corners of your eyes as he fucks your mouth, but Mark’s massaging of your clit helps distract you somewhat from the discomfort.

“You’re so tight,” Mark pants, “and wet, shit—”

The whine you let out is muffled by your mouthful of Haechan, who curses under his breath and thrusts up into your throat once more, making you gag around him and tap his thigh repeatedly.

“Too much?” Mark asks, sounding more amused than worried, and you shake your head.

“No, it’s not too much.” Haechan muses, finally pulling you off of his length and watching you cough and gasp for air. “Puppy loves taking cock—don’t you?”

“Yes,” you moan when you catch your breath, your voice throaty from sucking him off, and he smiles in satisfaction.

“She’s so good at it, too,” Mark grunts appreciatively, sliding his hand up your body to cup your breast. “Like she’s made for it.” 

“I’m close,” you whine as a warning, finding it oddly arousing that they’re essentially talking about you like you’re not there. 

“Good—I’m gonna cum so deep inside this pretty pussy,” he pants, each thrust pushing you closer and closer to the edge until you’re toppling over it, a broken cry falling from your lips as your eyes shut tightly, and you can feel his length throbbing within your walls as he pumps his cum into you. Mark shudders out a moan and kneads your asscheeks before pulling out of you and coming to lie on his back beside you, spent. 

Haechan takes Mark’s place, kissing up your thighs, over the curve of your asscheeks, and up your back until his lips are at the spot just behind your ear.

“You get to make one choice tonight, baby.” Haechan murmurs in your ear, running his hands down your sides to grab your hips. “You want me to eat you out like this? Or do you want to sit on my face?”

“Like this,” you mumble, barely audible and slurring. Haechan and Mark chuckle.

“What was that?” Haechan asks again, clearly taunting you.

“Haechan, please?” you sniffle, and he hums fondly, massaging circles into your hips with his thumbs. “Eat me out like this?”

“Okay, baby,” Haechan coos, moving back from your ear until you can feel his breath against your thighs and fanning over your core. “Such a pretty, pretty pussy. Even with Mark’s cum leaking out of it,” he murmurs, a gush of your and Mark’s cum leaking out of you as if on cue. 

Mark positions you on your hands once more, your body already starting to feel weary, and places himself under you where Haechan was a moment ago, slowly stroking himself. His brows furrowed, his gaze is dark as he watches your bottom lip tuck itself between your teeth in anticipation for Haechan to do something.

Haechan practically buries his face between your thighs, lapping at the arousal leaking from you. “Messy puppy’s even messy down here,” he grunts, wet noises sounding out from behind you as he licks and sucks at your glistening folds. 

The feeling of his tongue moving between your legs both tickles and thrills you, the wet muscle gliding over your skin with ease, and Haechan pulls back slightly, making you whine and push your hips back towards him.

“You’re so greedy,” Haechan teases, landing a smack to your ass cheek. “Be patient.”

“Don’t wanna,” you whine, looking up at Mark in an attempt to garner sympathy. “Please?”

Mark’s already furrowed brows furrow even more, something you didn’t think was possible, and he tilts your head up by the chin to capture your lips in a kiss. It’s domineering, forceful, even, with his tongue stroking against yours needily as you whine into his mouth.

As Mark kisses you senseless, you finally get to see why Haechan stopped in the first place. A warm, wet sensation travels down from your asshole and drips down to your clit, the bead of saliva threatening to drop onto the bed. Haechan groans at the sight while you groan at the sensation, Haechan’s mouth quick to follow the path but in reverse, licking up from your clit and through your folds to prod the tip of his tongue at your entrance.

You whimper and jolt forward, almost biting down on Mark’s lip, and Haechan chuckles, spreading your lips apart with two fingers and teasing his tongue around your entrance slowly. 

“Please,” you pant, breaking the kiss momentarily to beg for relief. “Please?”

“What, puppy? You like that?” he mumbles, pausing his ministrations to tease you. When you nod, he chuckles, cooing, “I know you like it; you like when I tease your little hole like that? Yeah?” You can only cry out in response, and he flicks his tongue over your entrance before speaking again. “That feels good, doesn’t it?”

“Haechan—” you plead in a desperate exhale, and he groans at the sound of your name leaving his lips, lurching forward and pushing his tongue past your entrance and into your core, not stopping even when you gasp and jolt away from him.

He yanks you back into place and smacks your ass once for good measure, warning you, “Don’t move until I say so,” before pushing his tongue back into you. He grabs your hip with his free hand, pulling you closer to his mouth, and Mark moves with you, his head dipping to suck at the base of your neck while you mewl in delight.

It takes approximately three guided rocking movements of your hips for you to realize that Haechan’s making you fuck yourself on his tongue, the wet muscle satisfying but a fraction of your need to be filled.

“More?” you beg, and Haechan drags his tongue up from your entrance to your asshole, swirling his tongue around the puckered rim as you cry out and reach back to swat at his head. “I didn’t mean—”

“Just wait,” he mumbles distractedly, flicking over it as you gasp and tremble. “See, puppy? I know what I’m doing.” Your hand slowly moves back to propping you up and both Mark and Haechan laugh, the sounds darker than usual and far more mischievous. 

“You like that, hm? Like when Haechan eats you out from the back?” Mark grunts against your neck, and you look down to see he’s fully hard again, his fist now slowly pumping his length. “So dirty,” Mark teases. “You’re just a dirty little thing,” Mark murmurs, “aren’t you?”

“Yes,” you agree needily, willing to say almost anything if it means you get to climax. “Haechan, I need—”

“I know what you need.” Haechan silences you by letting another fat drop of saliva drip onto your asshole, his lips wrapping around your clit as he pushes two fingers into your entrance and traces another finger around your asshole. “You need all your holes filled, don’t you, puppy?”

“Mhm,” you can only whine as he starts to fuck his fingers into you, the finger at your asshole pushing in with the spit as a makeshift lubricant. It’s less than ideal, the stretch of his finger feeling foreign as he pushes it in up to the first knuckle, but when he starts to move it in and out of you at the same pace his fingers fuck your core, you can only gasp in surprise, clutching onto Mark for something to brace yourself. “Holy shit—”

“Yeah, that’s good, isn’t it?” Mark chuckles, tilting your head towards him. “Look at me; I want to see that pretty face when you cum.”

“God, fuck—okay,” you agree breathlessly, nodding as you struggle to keep your eyes on his. Haechan speeds up in his finger-fucking of both your holes, releasing your clit from his lips to go up and spit on your rim again to prepare you as best he can to add another finger. “Oh, shit!”

“You can take it,” Haechan mutters determinedly, both sets of digits pumping in and out of you quickly. “Can’t you, baby?”

“Mhm,” you moan, nodding, and Haechan presses a kiss to your ass cheek, a silent encouragement to hang in there. “Gonna—oh, God—gonna cum—”

“Good, baby,” Haechan urges, voice surprisingly sweet as he coaxes you to your climax. “Cum for me, baby, cum all over me.” He’s practically spewing nonsense at this point, too caught up in his lust to make any sense, lips refusing to part with your clit as he urges you closer and closer to your peak. “Want to feel you cum all over my fingers, baby, all over my face—gonna lick it all up when you’re done—”

You cry out loudly, now grateful to be home alone, as your climax hits, your mind and body toppling over the edge gracelessly as you succumb to the bliss coursing through you. You whimper Haechan’s name, then Mark’s, then Haechan’s again, then you honestly don’t know what starts coming out next; you can only make out the word “fuck” leaving your lips again and again—and again.

“So fucking pretty when you cum,” Mark groans, pressing kisses to your slack-jawed mouth. “Prettiest fucking girl.”

“Gonna look even better with both of her holes stuffed full of cock.” Haechan grunts, and your eyes widen.

“Both—”

“Remember everything you put us through,” Haechan reminds you with a devilish grin. “You owe it to us at this point.” As if to drive his point home further, he presses his spit-slicked thumb to your rim, chuckling when you jolt away reflexively and move to sit on your heels. He presses you back down forcefully, your ass back in the air and face squished against Mark’s lap as he pushes his thumb past the rim of your asshole, moving it in and out carefully.

Mark groans at the sensation of your face pressed to the underside of his length and shamelessly lets his shaft rub against your lips and forehead, a tremor of pleasure traveling through his body as you whimper at the sensations you’re feeling at both ends. 

Haechan licks around where his thumb disappears into you, chuckling when you gasp with pleasure. 

“Haechan, hurry up—I want to fuck her again.” Mark grunts, and Haechan scoffs, moving his mouth away from you.

“You’re so impatient.” Haechan grouches as he pulls his thumb out carefully, guiding you up so you’re sitting on your heels. “I get her ass.”

“Wh—no, you don’t!”

“Mm, yes, I do.”

“Dude, seriously—”

“Can someone please just fuck me?” you plead quietly, and they look at each other, exchanging words non-verbally with their eyes. “Please?” 

“Don’t worry, puppy,” Haechan coos, coming closer and kissing your neck sweetly. “We’re gonna fill your needy little holes right now.”

“C’mere, pretty.” Mark urges, guiding you into straddling his legs and hovering just over his length as he presses the head of it to your entrance. He coats his length in your arousal, Haechan’s saliva, and whatever’s left of his own cum before urging your hips down so he slowly fills you up. When you let out a whine, he chuckles, pulling you down to kiss him, murmuring, “I know, baby. I know.”

“My turn,” Haechan chuckles mischievously, pressing his tip to your rim, both males holding you in place when you instinctively flinch away. “Don’t run from it, baby.”

“Mm—!” you cry out, voice muffled as Mark kisses you, as Haechan pushes the head of his cock into your ass, the feeling both incredibly foreign and unbelievably satisfying. “So much,” you gasp out, pulling away from Mark to look behind you as Haechan kneads your ass cheeks in what you assume is a comforting gesture.

“You can take it,” Mark encourages you with a husky voice, kissing down your neck to distract you from the discomfort.

“I can’t,” you moan, shaking your head.

“You can,” Haechan urges, “and you will.”

“God, fuck—” You hiss, scratching your nails uselessly against your bedspread.

“Don’t worry, baby—you’re gonna take this cock deep inside you, and you’re gonna fucking love it.” Haechan grunts through gritted teeth as he pushes himself further inside of you, his length reaching places inside of you no one’s ever been before. The cry you let out is somehow deeply overwhelmed yet so full of need for more that it would startle you if you were currently of sound mind and body. “Just like that, puppy.” he chuckles, his words ending in a groan as he bottoms out in you, hips pressed against your ass.

“Doing so well, baby.” Mark praises you in a whisper. “So fucking good.”

“You gotta relax, puppy.” Haechan leans over to speak against your ear. “Otherwise, it’s never gonna feel better.”

“You can move,” you say breathlessly, closing your eyes tightly in anticipation as you try to relax your muscles.

Mark lifts you up slightly and carefully pulls himself out to the tip before thrusting back into you with a groan. Haechan grips your hips tightly and starts to pull out, the feeling making you keen desperately for more. When he bottoms out again, you reach back to grab his hand tightly. 

“Faster,” you manage to get out, and Haechan snickers. 

“That’s more like it.” He pulls back out and thrusts into you as Mark starts building a quick rhythm that has you stuttering out whimpers. The sounds only increase in volume when Haechan does the same, the pleasurable blend of sensations of both your holes getting fucked filling your mind with a thick fog of bliss.

“So fucking big,” you whine, both of them chuckling.

“Who, baby?” Mark asks.

“Both of you—”

“Good answer,” Haechan praises before reaching around and rubbing at your clit, persisting even when you yelp in protest and try to smack his hand away. “Relax,” he reminds you, sounding smug as he tweaks the hypersensitive bud between his fingers.

“God, she’s so fucking wet,” Mark moans, his every syllable punctuated with a powerful thrust into you. “Feels like I’m gonna slip right out.” He reaches between your bodies and tugs at your nipples, kneading your breasts and running his thumbs over the sensitive buds.

“Please—oh, my God—” you beg, not even sure what it is you want.

“Good, yeah?” Mark teases, and you nod vigorously.

“So fucking good,” you pant, “feels so full.”

When he pulls you back down for a kiss, his hand returns to kneading your breasts as he teases your tongue with his. Haechan’s thrusts are rough and fast and deep, the pleasure forcing tears out of your eyes. His slick fingers press down harder on your clit and you nearly collapse, your eyes rolling back.

“Fuck, do that again, Haechan,” Mark groans against your lips. “She got so fucking tight—”

“This?” Haechan asks, fucking into you harder as he presses down on your clit again.

“Yeah—God, you’re so fucking tight—” Mark kisses away your tears even as fresh ones fall before sucking at a spot on your neck that makes you reflexively tilt your head to allow him more access.

“You like that, baby?” Haechan taunts you, audibly grinning as he speeds up the circles on your clit, and you cry out weakly, a teary whimper leaving you as more tears fall. “I know you do,” he grunts breathlessly, driving his hips into you harder. 

“God, I’m gonna—” You can barely get the words out as your climax approaches, your hips fucking back onto Haechan’s length.

“Cum, baby.” Mark tugs particularly hard on your nipple, eliciting another cry from you as you hit your peak, your body attempting to curl in on itself as the pleasure courses through you. “That’s it, fuck, you’re so good.” He sounds slightly whiny and you can’t even bring yourself to help him out yet, the aftershocks of your orgasm still traveling through your body, buzzing through your veins.

“Mark,” you say, slurring slightly as you bring your lips to his ear. “You can cum,” you urge gently, and he inhales sharply. 

“Fuck, I’m gonna fill you so good,” he moans, his thrusts growing more unpredictable before he thrusts upward, filling you completely, and spills his cum into you as his length throbs inside of you. His eyes close for a moment, Mark in a daze before he collects himself, opening his eyes, and pulls out of you gingerly. His gaze zeroes in on your core as his release and yours start to drip down your inner thighs, his face visibly spent while his eyes still hold that wild glint.

“Gonna fuck you so full of cum, puppy.” Haechan half-moans, half-growls as he pulls you up so your back is to his chest. Sucking at a sensitive spot on your neck, his hands grope your chest, kneading your breasts and rolling your nipples between his fingers. “Fill you so fucking good, it’ll be dripping out of you for ages.”

“God, Haechan, please cum—” you plead, fresh tears welling up in your eyes from how much pleasure you’re feeling. It’s almost more than you can take, one of Haechan’s hands returning to your clit even as you try your best to jerk away.

“You’re gonna come one more time for me, yeah?” he coaxes, and your eyes widen.

Underneath you, Mark chuckles at the panic on your face, watching you two lazily with a dopey smile on his lips.

“Haechan, I don’t wanna cum again,” you beg.

“Don’t want to, or you think you can’t?” Haechan presses, and you let out a small choked sob.

“I can’t!”

“You can—watch,” he answers simply, and you sniffle loudly. “Aw, come on; don’t be selfish, puppy,” he grunts, kissing up to your ear, his length pumping into you rapidly. “Give it to me. Cum.”

When you climax again, your body feels almost unbearably warm, your jaw dropping in overwhelming ecstasy, and your muscles go slack as you slump against Haechan’s back, distantly aware of Haechan’s thrusts slowing as he starts to cum inside of you. He keeps pumping into you at a slow pace, warmth flooding between your legs as more of your arousal drips down your legs.

“So fucking good, baby.” Haechan mutters through gritted teeth as his fingers dig into the flesh of your breast so hard that you whine. He pulls out of you carefully, your limbs immediately giving out as you practically melt onto the mattress beside Mark. Your breath comes in ragged inhales and exhales, Haechan gently flipping you onto your back and apologetically kissing the sore spots on your breast where his fingers dug into you. Satisfied with the attention, you tiredly push his head away and he lies down next to you, sighing deeply with relief.

“How do you feel?” Mark asks softly.

“Great,” Haechan answers, and Mark sucks his teeth.

“I wasn’t asking you.” 

“I feel…” you start, and they both crane their necks to look at you. “Like you’re both still insane.”

“Maybe we are,” Haechan laughs tiredly. “You did a good job; almost paid off your debt entirely.” 

“Please don’t bring up that stupid debt,” you complain, covering your ears.

“Also, turns out that puppy likes it in doggy style,” Haechan chuckles, “who would’ve thought?”

“Haechan?”

“Yeah, baby?” 

“Stop being a menace for one second. You’re making my head hurt.” 

“I can imagine more than your head hurts,” Mark says sympathetically, squeezing your hand. “Are you, like, physically okay?”

“Yeah,” you mumble sleepily. “I’m covered in spit and sweat and cum, though, so I really want to shower in a sec.”

“Here’s an idea—we go shower and Mark and I will go get some of Jeno’s weed for us to smoke. That’ll make you feel better.” Haechan suggests, and you pause to think.

“You know,” you muse, “that’s a good plan.”

“Why, thank you,” Haechan says with a proud smile. “I am known for my intelligence.”

“No, you’re not,” you and Mark snort in amusement.

“I’m a genius!” Haechan retorts defensively, and you scoff.

“Who said that beside the voices in your head?”

“Do you want Jeno’s weed or not?” Haechan challenges.

You’re quiet for a moment. “Fine, you’re a genius.”

Haechan smiles in satisfaction. “That's what I thought.”

(“I can’t believe they really made it the whole month,” Jaemin mutters in surprise.

“I can’t believe I really have to give up all my weed,” Jeno laments. “All 5 pounds of it—”

“Five fucking pounds?! Jesus Christ, are you a dealer or something?” Lia stares in horror at Jeno, who just waves her off.

“We all do what we gotta do to get by.” Jeno answers, shrugging. “I smoke weed, Jaemin eats snacks—Lia schemes against her friends—”

“Hey! When I told Mark and Haechan she was home on December 1st and had her get the door, I did that for her own good. The three of them were dancing awkwardly around each other for a frustratingly long time.” Lia defends herself, and Jaemin raises an eyebrow.

“Right. Now look at them. Oh, wait. You can’t because they’re off fucking like rabbits. Again.” he drawls.

“I regret nothing.” Lia turns her nose up in a huff.

“Well, I regret hearing Haechan’s dumb joke about the new monthly challenge they’re doing.” Yeji rolls her eyes, gathering the attention of everyone else. “He didn’t tell you guys?” 

“No,” they chorus.

Yeji sighs. “It’s Dick Her Down December, apparently.”

“That poor girl.” Jaemin winces. “It’s only the 5th.”

Jeno shrugs. “Somehow, I think she’ll be alright.”)

the end!! i hope you enjoyed :) please consider leaving positive feedback & thank you for reading!!

[lovecla]

TAKE YOUR PAIN AWAY | quinn hughes.

chapter five:

<last chapter> <next chapter>

➴ chapter warnings: none!

➴ word count: 3.9k

💌 from me to you: honestly, today was a lot! i broke my phone yesterday and had to buy a new one today (i’m now poor :,) and i deadass forgot my email and i lost all of my works AHAH (quinn’s voice: it’s funny but it’s not funny). thankfully, i had already saved all of TYPA chapters here on tumblr so they’re safe and well. anyways, enjoy! 🤎

౨ৎ

2024, APRIL.

lavieenrose

Vancouver, Canada

liked by madisoncarter, adrianalima, zayn and 528,012 other people

lavieenrose We are thrilled to announce our newest Flower, Madison Carter! Welcome to our garden, gorgeous! 🌹

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౨ৎ

“SO QUINN Hughes is your childhood best friend?” Victoria sounded amused.

You chuckle. “Something like that, yeah.”

“What a small world we live in!” She raised her arm, making prayer hands. “God, if you’re out there, make my dream of fucking Luke Hughes come true.”

“Oh my God, you’re the worst.” You joke, watching as she winks at you, going back to her rambling about how funny it was that you and the Hughes were familiar with each other.

It was the week before your first official fashion show in Vancouver, and things were extremely busy. Today you and the other models had to visit the hall where the show would happen so you could practice your walk and get familiar with the runway’s layout.

Victoria wasn’t a model per se, even if she was one of the most gorgeous women you have ever seen, but she still made sure to be there with you so you wouldn't be totally alone.

The other models were nice to you but you were still extremely shy, and it usually took you a while for you to get used to new people. Thankfully, Victoria could help you just fine.

“But like,” she raises her voice again, staring at you funny. “Should I tell Gil to send the Canucks some invitations?”

You raised your brow at her, ready to say no. After that night at your house, a week ago, you and Quinn were… different. Being one hundred percent honest, you were different with Quinn. He was still the same as always, texting every day and asking about how you and Bella were doing, since he was away— again— and couldn’t check on you in person.

And you thought it was sweet.

Awfully sweet.

Dangerously sweet.

After the thoughts you had while he sat on your couch that night, thick thighs spread cozily across your couch, dress shirt opened and hair falling perfectly on his face, you decided that being away from him was probably the best thing you could do for your relationship.

“I don’t think they’ll be interested in coming,” you lie, shrugging. “It’s not like they’re interested in lingeries.”

“Hum—”

“At least not in the way you want them to be!” You quickly added, not letting Victoria’s mind wander to horny places.

“I don’t know about that, Mads,” she clicks her tongue, watching as the crew move around you both, lunch break already about to end. “We could invite only the single ones. What do you think?”

You laugh and joke: “I think that’s a great idea.”

Obviously, it wasn’t. Nothing about Quinn seeing you in lingerie was a good idea, but who were you to crash Victoria’s dream? Besides, the Canucks would never actually go to a fashion show unless they were forced to, so you had nothing to worry about.

“Okay, Madison, I need you to walk up there again.” Rory, the casting director called you, and you promptly got out of your seat to do what he needed you to.

And just like that your thirty minute lunch break was over.

౨ৎ

“THIS IS the day you all have been waiting for, girls,” James yells, loud enough to be heard by all the fifty girls standing backstage. “I need you all to shine today!”

You could feel your hands sweaty and your heart beating faster than ever. Today was the fashion show you've been preparing for everyday ever since you moved to Canada and watching it all unfold in front of you was anything but not stressful.

This was the first fashion show you did in months and you knew people were expecting something big.

“Madison,” James calls you, and you immediately go to his side, excluded from the other girls. He looks at you with his fierce, cat eyes and you almost gulp. “Today’s your night. The majority of the people are here to see you, they’re here to see Madison Carter. Do you understand that?”

You nod, blinking fast. “I do.”

“Great,” he crosses his arms over his chest. “I didn’t say this in front of the other girls because I don’t want them to feel bad, but having you here is pure gold, and the press is ready to put any mistake in a headline. So, can you be my prettiest flower tonight, baby?”

You smile, feeling confident all of a sudden. You had to remind yourself that you were pretty, even if sometimes your brain liked to tell you otherwise. People were here to see you, they paid money to watch you walk down that stage, and you’d give them a show.

You’d prove to everyone that you were just that girl. Even your own family.

“I can, J.” You confirm, shaking your arms slightly.

“Then great. You know when you have to enter the stage, don’t you?” You nod again, of course you did. You all rehearsed this so many times that it would be hard for you not to know. James turns around and starts speaking loud again, trying to talk to all fifty girls at once. “RAYE is here tonight and even though your job is to walk, I want you all to interact with her and her songs. I want you all on time and I want you all on your best behavior.”

Celestial Allure was the name of tonight’s collection, all of you wearing different shades of white, pastel pink, blue and purple, not to mention the tiny golden details in your hair and heels. Your makeup consisted in white eyeshadow, heavy eyeliner and big, angelic lashes. You had little to no blush in your cheeks, the focus on representing a pale, unreal face. Your lips had a natural pinkish color and you had highlighter all over your collarbone and nose.

Your opening outfit couldn’t even be called an outfit; it was simply a white, twinkle strap lace corset with matching panties, heels that adored your legs and reminded you of something Barbie would wear, your hair was perfectly styled with waves falling down like a waterfall.

You took a deep breath, the first notes of Escapism echoing through the entire place, and you knew it was the time for your entrance.

After saying a quick prayer, you enter the stage, immediately putting on your work mindset, not letting any of the hundred eyes make you feel nervous. One step and then another, your body moved alongside the music’s beat, RAYE’s warm smile and powerful presence making you feel less nervous. You made sure that your body was moving like James and Rory had instructed, lightly and featherly.

The camera flashes didn’t hurt your eyes anymore, thankfully, because there were so many of them that even if the building had dim lighting, the stage looked as bright as the sun.

“A little context if you care to listen, I find myself in a shit position,” you mouthed the words, walking down the stage like you owned, because, in fact— you did. “The man that I love sat me down last night, and he told me that it's over, dumb decision.”

You waved to some of the cameras, smiling from ear to ear, genuinely happy.

Even if it was a hard world, the happiness you got from modeling and wearing beautiful, delicate pieces like the one you were wearing right now was unbeatable.

Outfit after outfit, walk after walk, you made it to the end of the show, letting your eyes get shiny with tears when James grabbed your hand and walked with you to the end of the stage, raising your arm and bowing with you. You smiled, watching as people clapped for you and shouted your name.

Backstage, you ran around hugging the other models, all of you so emotional and happy. Your favorite part about working with La Vie en Rose was that they prioritized girls who supported other girls, and not girls who tried to get on top by dragging other girls, something that happened daily in the fashion world.

Victoria also hugged you, taking pictures and handing you your outfit change so you could talk to the press.

“Madison, Madison,” your name was on every reporter’s mouth, flashes and cameras being shoved in your face. You smiled through the uncomfortable feeling of all of your actions and breathing being recorded and pointed to one of the interviewers there, letting her speak.

“You were absolutely divine today. How are you feeling?”

“Honestly, I have no idea,” you smile, shaking your head. “This is the first show I’ve done in a while and I’m still getting back from the high.”

“The crowd’s reaction was amazing. Did you expect such a strong response?”

“No,” you laugh, sincerely. “I am used to my supporters in Los Angeles but knowing this many people would show up here in Vancouver? It’s insane. But I’m grateful anyway.”

“Speaking of moving to Vancouver, what can we expect from your Canadian side?”

“Everything. I’m always open to new opportunities and signing a contract with a brand as special to me as La Vie en Rose can mean a lot of good things.” You move to the next reporter, who was almost shoving the microphone down your throat.

“What can you say about the Canucks team being here? Do you know any of them personally?”

That caught you so off guard you had to hold back a gasp.

“What do you mean?” You ask carefully, trying your best to keep your smile from falling. “The… Canucks are here?”

“You didn’t know?” The reporter scoffs. “We have players like Quinn Hughes, Brock Boeser, Conor Garland and Elias Pettersson in the audience.”

“Oh,” you say, moving your head to the side, trying to see something past that sea of cameras. “Hum. I didn’t know they were here. I think it’s, hum, great and… yeah.”

“Time’s up, fellas!” Victoria shouts, grabbing your shoulders and pulling you to the side. “The other models are right there, ready for your questions. Thank you all, bye.”

“Thank you guys, have a good night,” you say before heading backstage. You turn your head to Victoria’s direction, eyes doubled in size. “Did you know the Canucks are here?”

“‘Course I did. I sent the invite.” She answers like it was nothing.

“You what?”

“Well, basically it wasn’t me, it was Gil, but I was the one who told him to invite them— and why are you so surprised anyway? We talked about this and you said it was a great idea!”

“I was joking, obviously,” you shout-whisper, walking around the room with Victoria beside you. “You’re crazy.”

“Well, now they’re here and we have to greet them.” She smiles, walking around people with a gorgeous smile plastered on her face. “Hi, good night.”

You had to set your apprehension aside and greet the other people there, so many designers, fashion students and artists congratulated you and asked for pictures. You were happy people were as pleased as you about you moving to Canada and even happier to see that you had so many supporters.

“Oh my God, there’s Quinn Hughes,” Victoria whispers beside you, making you snap your head in his direction.

And there he was. Wearing a gorgeous, dark blue suit, hair slicked back and hands in his pockets, standing there like Prince Charming himself. He was surrounded by three other men, who you could only imagine were his teammates, chatting quietly with one of them.

“Let’s go say hi.” Victoria grabs your hand and makes her way to their little chatting circle, Quinn noticing you before anyone else.

His eyes held a different kind of feeling that night, with him eyeing you up and down. His eyes discreetly trailed your body, the tiniest smile adorning his lips when his eyes met yours.

“Maddie.” He said your name with that raspy voice of his, making you shiver internally.

You smile shyly, watching as he leans down and kisses your forehead.

“Hi, Quinn,” you greet him back, face warm with all the attention. “Hum. Hi, guys,” you greet the other men, as six pairs of eyes stare back at you. “I’m Madison.”

They all give you a cheek kiss and a hug, broad bodies embracing yours like a giant blanket. They introduced themselves, and you were right; they were Quinn’s teammates.

“This is Victoria,” you introduce your friend, who eagerly hugs the players as well.

“Did you guys enjoy the show?” She asks and you watch as they all laugh and nod.

The one you remember being called Conor speaks first. “Honestly when we got the invitation I thought it was really random. But it was actually fire.”

“Yeah,” one of them, Pettersson, you think, agrees, putting his hands inside his pockets. “The girls are pretty. You’re pretty.”

You ran your fingers through your hair, smiling and thanking them.

“We were just going out for drinks at a bar just down the street, do you want to join?” One of them— you didn’t remember the name— asks, and before you could even think of what to say, Victoria jumps in front of you with her eager yes.

You looked at Quinn, watching as he stared right back at you, pointing to the entrance with his head.

You all walked out of the event hall together, photographers going crazy with the flashes and you knew that besides talking about your performance that night, people were also going to talk about your proximity with the Hughes and the Canucks.

The other players chatted with Victoria in front of you, while you and Quinn walked behind them, close enough that your naked shoulder touched his covered arm.

“Aren’t you cold?” He blurts out of nowhere, and you smile, shaking your head no.

“Not really. I’m still coming down from the high from earlier.”

“You were amazing, Mads,” he praises you, licking his lips. “Never seen you like that before. Just… stunning.”

“Thanks,” you mumble, not sure why Quinn’s compliment made you feel better than if it were anyone else’s. “Did you like it?” Even though Victoria had already asked them this question, you asked it again, because you wanted to know what Quinn had thought of it.

“Yes,” he winks, smirking at you. “Yes, I did.”

“Great.”

You continued to make small talk on your way to the bar, underestimating how crowded it would actually be. Thankfully, there were a lot of Canucks fans there, and a group of random people let you stay at their table in exchange for a picture with their captain, Quinn, which he promptly took.

“Do you want to drink anything?” The handsome brown-haired fella, Garland, you think, asked you, a few seconds after you sat down.

“Let her breathe first, idiot,” you heard Quinn mumble beside you, making you laugh.

“Maybe a Sex on the Beach?” You said simply, not really interested in Conor’s flirting. He’s hot, but he isn’t Quinn.

Maybe it’s time for you to stop thinking that you can actually have anything with Quinn, you thought, feeling yourself deflate just a little.

“Freaky,” Connor answered, before moving to the bar with the other guys.

“You won’t drink anything?” Victoria asked Quinn, since he was the man who stayed at the table.

He shrugs. “I’m driving.”

“Oh, we love a responsible king,” she nods to herself, giving you an approving smile. What she was approving was still a mystery.

Quinn eyes you, silently questioning you where you’d found that girl, and you only smiled, raising your shoulders.

The rest of the team took a while to come back, something about the bar being too crowded, but Conor handed your cocktail and winked at you.

“So, Madison,” he starts, sitting in front of you. “Are you single?”

Boeser whistled while Pettersson laughed out loud, hitting Conor’s shoulders.

“You’re very straightforward, aren’t you?” You retort, roiling your eyes but smiling nonetheless. “But, yes, I am. I’m not interested in anything serious at the moment, though.”

“One step forward for Conie here but at what cost?” Boeser shouts, clicking his beer on the table. You can hear Victoria laughing with Pettersson beside you, and you seriously want to pinch her cheeks.

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that,” Quinn speaks beside you, and suddenly all eyes are on him, yours included. He seems to realize what he had just said because his cheeks turn a very light shade of pink. “I mean, with a face like yours, I’d find it pretty hard to believe that any woman would be interested in you.”

“Fuck you, Cap,” Conor gives him the finger, sipping on his beer before winking at you. “Maddie here knows what’s good.”

“Don’t call her that,” Quinn hisses and both you and Victoria share a stare with each other.

Thankfully, Vic’s really good at changing topics and after five seconds she got all of the Canucks players talking with her at the same time. Garland seemed to have forgotten about you momentarily, and you were thankful for that.

You turned your head to the side, staring at Quinn who looked like he was having the worst time of his life. You frowned.

“What got you so upset?” You whisper, watching as he stops staring at his water bottle to stare at you.

“I’m not upset.”

“This little thing here…” you place your finger between his eyebrows, watching the furrow disappear underneath your finger. “…tells me a different story. Was it Conor?”

“Why would I be upset with him?” He taps his fingers on the table, once, twice.

“I know that you don’t like it when people call me Maddie.” You tell him, smiling softly. You would never confess it to him, but you didn’t like when people called you that too. Quinn had been the first person to call you that, to give you a nickname, and you wanted to keep that one between you both.

“He just can’t keep himself inside his pants,” He admits, and you smile even wider, finding the entire situation entirely funny. “It’s not funny, Madison.”

“It is to me,” you rest your chin on your hand. “Well, I know he won’t get inside my pants any time soon.”

“Yeah?” He smirks, and, finally, you watch his face transform into something that wasn’t a scowl or a frown. “Good.”

You gulp and pray to God that he doesn’t notice the way your thighs slowly close together, your body clearly desperate for something. Something that anyone else could give you, but you wanted it from the only person who was out of your league.

But perhaps God wasn’t listening to you like He usually did, because the way Quinn’s blue eyes turned into a grayish shade before he calmly placed his right hand on your left thigh told you a different truth.

Then he somehow inserted himself back in the conversation, leaving his hands on your thigh for the rest of the night, while you tried to keep up with what they were saying but failed miserably since all you could think was how his hands looked so big on you that maybe, just maybe, some of his other parts would be big too…

You sighed, forgetting for a few seconds that you were in public. Being around Quinn made your head work in the wrong way and trying to get back on the right path was tiring and exhausting.

“Are you not having fun?” You scared yourself with how close Quinn actually was, his lips almost touching your ear.

“‘M just tired,” you mumbled, feeling bad for interrupting Quinn’s conversation, even if the rest of the people at the table were still talking animatedly between themselves. “And I miss Bella.”

You hear his breathy laugh beside you. “I miss Bella too. Come on, let me take you home.”

“You don’t need to,” you say, shaking your head slowly. “I’ll call a cab.”

“You’re funny.” he says before opening his wallet and placing two hundred Canadian dollars on the table. “Madison and I are going home.”

“Uh, well… bye?” You say, uncertain of what you should do. It seemed rude to you to just leave like this, but you also knew Quinn wasn’t backing up now, and you were telling the truth when you told him you miss Bella. “It was nice meeting you all.”

“The pleasure was all ours, baby,” Conor says, winking at you. “Come see our next game. We’ll save you and Vicky a spot.” You tell him that you will, and then you smile politely, kissing Victoria’s cheek.

“Do you want me to take you home?” You ask, and she turns the cutest shade of red, eyes staring at Boeser for just a brief second before turning at you again. Oh. “Alright. Call me if you need anything.”

“Will do,” she winks, kissing you too. “Drive safe.”

You briefly hug the other players, wishing them a good night before you leave the bar with Quinn’s hand on your lower back, gently guiding you to his car. The drive to your house was quiet, with Quinn making tiny remarks here and there, but you were so close to saying fuck to all of your beliefs and kissing him that you realized that staying quiet was probably the best move.

It wasn’t like you thought Quinn wasn’t into you. You weren’t dumb, and you knew what the stares he gave you meant, but you also knew that what you had with him, your friendship, was precious and not something that happened to everyone.

Even if you’d just restarted seeing each other a short while ago, it was like you hadn’t stopped talking at all. He still took care of you like he did to young Madison years ago, and he still let you take care of him like you would’ve done if he’d stayed in your life when you grew up.

So risking it all just because you were horny? Not a chance.

“You’re so quiet,” he points out, making a U turn. “Do you miss Bella this much?”

You smile, resting your head on the window. “I do, yeah. But I’m also just tired. Today was a lot.”

“I was telling the truth when I said you were stunning, Maddie. You owned that stage. No one was looking at anyone else.”

“Oh, stop it, Quinn,” you tried to hide the fact that his compliments made you want to start running around while shouting his name. “It’s just my job.”

He raised his eyebrow at you, but didn't say anything else, what was probably for the better. If he complimented you again, you wouldn’t sure that you would be able to stay in your seat without climbing on his lap and begging him to fuck you.

Quinn parks in front of your apartment building and smiles at you, tired eyes shining like the moon that decorated the sky that night. “Want me to go upstairs with you?”

“No, no, it’s fine, I know you’re tired,” you bit your lip, fidgeting with your fingers. “Thank you for coming. And for the ride too.”

“I enjoyed tonight. We should… we should do this again.”

You smirk, playfully. “And invite Conor too?”

He groans, laughing softly.

“No, definitely no,” he shakes his head. “I know that dork already invited you but… if you want to come watch our next game, just give me a heads up. I’ll get tickets for you and your friend.”

“Only if we get to stay in that seat where we can watch the players beat each other up from up close.” You joke, watching as he laughs, wrapping his hand around his abs.

“Consider it done, M,” he blinks, an adorable smile adorning his face. “I’ll text you the details, alright?”

“Mhm,” you nod, removing your seatbelt and pushing your body forward, until you place a light kiss on his cheek, feeling his stubble softly scratch your lips. “Night, Quinn.”

“Bye, Mads.” he whispers, watching you leave the car and only driving away when he sees you enter your building.

You sigh out loud, trying to understand what the hell happened tonight.

౨ৎ

liked by vic_alonso, _quinnhughes, imgmodels and 828,023 other people

madisoncarter little dump from tonight. thank u all for coming 🌟 lavieenrose

View all 3,209 comments

raye this show was yours. Prettiest woman in the world. Xx

vic_alonso we look soooo good in that pic babe

vic_alonso also lowkey wanna kiss u again

user1 vic_alonso 📸🤨

madisoncarter @vic_alonso ‘m all urs baby

user2 why is my husband liking this when he doesn’t even know how to post a picture without Jack’s help pls I need answers

user3 oh both luke jack and quinn liked this we are cooked

maddiecarter_updates We don’t know if we want to be you or have you 🙂‍↕️ stunning as always, queen!

taglist: @hischierswhore @ru-kru @alwaysclassyeagle @he6rtshaker @nope-i-am-done @nngkay 🤎

[hiramaris]

I'm gonna request something for haley bc i love how you write her and not so obsessed. im not sure if you are writing for request? but im gonna give my shot

a prompt where haley as wife, and the farmer was late passed midnight because of mining shit. and almost died (lmao). she got home safely, but limping with her wounds and bruise. then there's haley, saw her wife barely walking and her reaction, just comfort, fluff, worried and taking care of the farmer.

that's all, thanks, no pressure <3

Kiss it Off Me

CHAPTER 7

Chapter Summary:

"I don't like your stupid gift!" She didn't intend for it to sound harsh, but as soon as her mouth opened, she couldn't stop the words from spilling out. "I honestly thought you'd know better than to give me something like this."

Pairings: Haley x Fem!farmer

Disclaimer:  I do not own Stardew Valley or any of the related characters. Stardew Valley is created by and owned by ConcernedApe. This fanfiction is intended for entertainment only. I am not making any profit from this story. All rights of the original Stardew Valley story belong to ConcernedApe.

Warning: violence, blood

Notes:

thanks to anon for being the first-ever reader to request a prompt. I initially thought to make a separate fic for this one but I realized why not make it as a new chapter? There would be some adjustments to the prompt, instead of Haley being the farmer's wife, she'd be somewhere in between a friend and a woman struggling to put a name to what she's feeling with the farmer. I'm really sorry anon for not following the route you're hoping for but I do hope you'll like this one.

Summer 9

The sound of thunder clapping from above her made it difficult for sleep to come that night. Despite the late hour, the darkness outside was illuminated intermittently by flashes of lightning, casting eerie shadows across the walls of her room.

Rain drummed steadily against the glass, a constant reminder of Yoba's fury. The room felt oppressive, suffocating almost, as if the storm had seeped its way indoors, invading her sanctuary.

She had always hated rain. Well, the main reason is it's horrible weather for a dashing photographer like her. Not only does it ruin her hair that she spent all morning fixing, but it could also ruin her equipment. Oh, did she also mention it gives an awful lighting?

She also shares the same level of dislike for storms because they destroy the calmness of rain. It's aggressive, cold, and destructive.

That's why the moment the news announced there would be a storm for the next three days, she was quick to stock every little favorite snack she could think of because there was no way she was waltzing outside in that kind of weather.

Haley popped out a tired eye as she looked at the clock beside her.

1:56 AM.

Oh, joy it's almost two in the morning. How in Yoba's name could she go outside with bags under her eyes probably heavier than all of Emily's hippie gems combined?

'I mean– there's always a concealer,' she thought but quickly dismissed the idea.

She has been minimizing her makeup since... since whatever (when you told her she looked prettier even without them) PLUS with summer's sweltering heat, layering on cosmetics seemed suffocating.

With a groan, she pushed herself up from the bed, determination flashing in her tired eyes as she made her way to the kitchen to get a glass of milk, hoping that this little solution would finally give her the sleep she'd been craving for.

But as she reached for the milk, a cacophony outside shattered the stillness of the night. Haley froze, her heart pounding in her chest. It's kind of hard to tell with the harsh rain and thunder and everything.

As if to confirm that her mind wasn't playing tricks on her, a set of audible coughs echoed just behind the door. Haley's heart thumped so loud she was afraid it might come out of her chest.

That could only be an intruder.

In Haley's sleep-deprived mind, she didn't stop to even realize that Pelican Town had never experienced a robbery in the dead of night. Instead, she quickly bolted to her room, grabbing Alex's old baseball bat he had left here one time, not even having the presence of mind to wake up Emily to face this 'intruder' together.

****

Spoiler alert, it wasn't an intruder but an idiotic farmer covered in dirt and unbelievably wet from the rain.

You were holding your rucksack close to your chest for dear life with your sword held tightly by your other hand when Haley found you slumped against the door.

"What the hell are you doing outside at this hour and in this weather?" was the first words she uttered when her eyes spotted you. She was quick to help you up and bring you inside, not even minding the mud and water accumulating from where you stood.

When you didn't respond, Haley met your eyes.

Haley's heart nearly stopped at the sight beyond her. Without being hidden by the darkness, she could finally see your whole state.

There standing is the farmer herself. Your white hoodie was tattered and looked burned. Your hoodie's sleeves are ripped too up to your upper arms, and your left arm has a cut with fresh blood still gushing out of it.

You were missing the other pair of your shoes, and your hair was disheveled and covered with slime. You even had multiple scratches and scrapes all over your body. Your right cheek has some small scratches, and blood is rushing out of the wound on your forehead.

"Yoba..." Haley's voice was barely a whisper as she gently cupped your cheeks, careful not to aggravate your wounds. Her eyes flickered to the gash on your forehead, blood still seeping from the wound. "What happened, Y/n/n? We need to get you to Harvey!"

You shook your head weakly, struggling to stand upright. "No... H-harvey," you protested, your voice strained. "H-he'll kill me."

"Y/n!" Haley's arms enveloped you in a tight embrace as you nearly stumbled over her. She wanted to reprimand you, to demand answers, but the rush of blood in her ears and the pounding of her heart against her chest prevented her from doing so.

For now, she needed to make sure you were okay.

You only grunted in response as you gave in to her, allowing her to guide you onto the cushions.

"I'm just gonna get a towel and the first aid." Her lips trembled as she said those words.

In record time, she was able to get everything she thought you'd need, afraid if she missed any more seconds you wouldn't be breathing.

When she returned to the living room, she almost went ballistic when she spotted your form unmoving from your seat.

"Y/n! Wake up, for Yoba's sake! Don't you dare die on—" Haley's words caught in her throat as you rasped out a response.

"...oh, look an angel," you managed with a small grin, your tired eyes fluttering open.

Haley couldn't help but smile softly at your attempt to lighten the mood. "Very funny," she replied, relief flooding through her as she saw you conscious, if only barely.

Wordlessly, she draped a towel over you, tucking it gently to ensure you stayed warm. It was the same blanket she used during storms like this when she felt cold herself.

With a purposeful stride, she made her way to the fireplace, adding more wood to the fire in hopes of warming you further.

"Keep your eyes open, please? I'm just gonna get some rags to clean up your wound," she requested gently.

She placed the first aid kit on the coffee table in front of you before heading to the kitchen to gather clean rags and a sponge.

Returning to the living room, she filled a bowl with tap water and carried it carefully as she made her way back to you.

With great tenderness, Haley cautiously wiped the blood from your body with the sponge, dampening it in the tap water she had prepared. She winced as the color of the water turned red.

"You lost too much blood," Haley commented, masking the shakiness of her voice. She wasn't a great fan of blood but she was not naive with treating minor injuries either. She silently thanked Yoba for letting Emily force her to learn a thing or two about first aid.

You only grunted in response to her observation.

"What happened, Y/n?" She couldn't hide the worry in her voice even if she dared try. "I should call Harvey and get you to the clinic."

You groaned as she accidentally applied too much pressure to your wound. "No... it's okay. It's n-nothing, I'm fine."

"These serious injuries don't shout nothing, Y/n. What the hell happened?"

"'I went to the mine..." you explained, and Haley waited expectantly for you to continue.

"It's storming."

"I know..." You couldn't look at her in the eye. "It's just that there's not much going on in the farm so I thought I should continue my expeditions in the mine. I thought it would be safe but..."

"But it wasn't." Haley couldn't helped but deadpan.

You visibly winced, unsure if it was because of your wounds, Haley's biting remark, or just both. "I heard from Marlon I could find rare items once I reached the hundredth floor, which I did," you explained, tapping your rucksack beside you. "But I should have known better that those items are rare for a reason. Not because they're hard to find, but because they're hard to acquire. Once I got hold of this baby," you gestured to your bag, "the whole cave was swarmed by slimes and shadow people."

"What?" Haley's voice sputtered with disbelief, her brows furrowing in concern. "Shadow people? I thought they were just myths!"

You tried to nod in confirmation, but Haley kept a firm hand on your cheeks, preventing the movement. "Uhuh, they're very real," you affirmed, your voice tinged with exhaustion. "And I can say they aren't really fond of us humans and, uh, dwarves I think. They're more scared of me than intimidating. I tried not to, y'know, hurt them."

"That's a stupid idea."

"I know," you admitted, your gaze dropping to the floor. "But given our history with them, I didn't want to give them any more reason to hate us. Plus, I was the one invading their homes."

Haley let out a heavy sigh, her shoulders slumping with weariness. "Still, you should have fought back. What if they had killed you in there? How would we have known you were down there and rotting? You're the only one crazy enough to go down there anyway."

You didn't speak after that, and Haley mistook that as compliance. She was too busy fuming at your lack of self-preservation to notice the frown creasing on your features.

After managing to cleanse the visible injuries of your body, she began to grab some clean rags to apply some pressure on your forehead and your forearm to keep your bleeding to an absolute minimum.

She cursed softly under her breath, trying to think of what to do next.

"…Y/n? Y/n, wake up, stop sleeping," Haley's voice was quiet, her tone laced with urgency as she gently tapped your cheek.

Your eyes pulled themselves open and looked tiredly at her. "Hn?"

"I need you to sit up straight and pull your hoodie off. What do you have underneath?" Haley's words were gentle but firm as she carefully supported your shoulder and hip.

"…just a tank top."

Slowly, you strained to sit upright, wincing with discomfort. Haley could tell from the way your grip tightened on her wrist that you were not comfortable sitting for very long.

With Haley's assistance, you managed to pull your hoodie off, careful not to aggravate any wounds. Once the clothes were removed, Haley's eyes lingered on the minor cuts just below your chest, blood still seeping from the wounds. She grabbed the sponge again, gently brushing away the blood from your cuts.

After cleansing the wounds, Haley applied alcohol and antibiotics, causing you to grunt in discomfort. No words were exchanged as she skillfully wrapped bandages around your forehead, forearm, and abdomen. She then helped you into warmer clothes she found in her wardrobe, her movements gentle and reassuring.

"How do you feel?" Haley bit her lip, anxious. Honestly speaking, she wasn't confident in her abilities to treat injuries, so she anxiously awaited your response, hoping she hadn't made things worse.

"…I'm alright now," you rasped, your voice hoarse with exhaustion. "…thank you, Hay."

Haley felt a wave of relief wash over her at your words. Your face had regained some color compared to earlier when you looked as pale as a ghost.

"Do you want anything to eat?" she questioned tentatively. "I'll whip you up some tea and soup."

You swallowed gently and nodded your head.

"I'll be back soon then. Rest. I'll wake you when your soup is done."

****

About twenty minutes later, Haley went back into the living room, a tray in her hands. She found you sprawled on the couch (thankfully not moving too much), embracing your rucksack in your arms once again. She wanted to question what was inside and why you couldn't part with it so much but decided to make sure you were okay first.

The things she does for you.

She placed the tray of food on the coffee table and sat beside you, taking in your sleeping form.

"Y/n/n? Food's ready," Haley said softly, tapping your thigh to rouse you from your slumber.

Startled and kind of a forced of habit, you tried to sit up straight. Thankfully, Haley was fast enough to stop you.

"Don't get up. | don't want to wrap your wounds again," Haley admonished, her tone firm.

She grabbed a pillow and propped it behind your back to elevate your head slightly. As she picked up the bowl of chicken soup, she could feel your eyes on her.

"I can feed myself, Haley. Thank you," you finally spoke. Haley's eyes met yours briefly before she averted her gaze, a flicker of emotion passing over her features.

"Clearly, you aren't capable of feeding yourself. Stop being a baby and let me do this."

Your eyes settled on her for probably a full minute before you sighed in resignation. Despite the hardened gaze she probably wore on her face, Haley gently placed a spoonful of soup in your mouth.

"I know you can, Y/n," Haley spoke after a few moments. "But you lost too much blood already, I don't want you to bleed again."

"I'm sorry for causing you all this trouble," you uttered softly.

Haley paused and finally looked at you, like, really looked at you properly this time. Since you had arrived covered in mud and blood, she had been operating on autopilot, with only one mission: ensuring you were okay. It's the only thing running through her mind, leaving no room for anything else. Mainly, she hadn't thought about the impact of her words.

"Don't be ridiculous. It's no trouble. I'm just..." Haley paused, thinking about what words to use without giving away that she cared too much. "I'm just glad that you're okay."

Once you had finished eating, Haley placed the empty bowl down and reached for a damp cloth. Brushing away a stray lock of your hair, she gently wiped away a few drops of blood and dirt, her touch surprisingly gentle. She was so focused on her task that she didn't notice you watching her quietly, your expression softening as she attended to the blemish on your face.

"Haley..." you called softly, breaking the silence. Haley looked down at you, her eyes startled. A small, appreciative smile graced your lips as you continued, "Thank you."

Haley couldn't help but smile in return. Sometimes it's hard to stay mad at you. "You can thank me by resting and making sure this won't happen again."

You chuckled softly as you closed your eyes, resting your head against the pillow once more. "No promises."

Seeing that you were getting sleepy, Haley quickly gathered the empty bowl and cup and placed them in the sink. When she returned, she extended a hand to help you up, much to your confusion.

"Come, let's get you to my room."

"Haley," you protested weakly. "I couldn't possibly impose more than I already have."

"Shut up. I won't let an injured woman sleep on the couch, Y/n."

Despite your protests, Haley managed to convince you to agree with her proposed setup. While Haley wasn't entirely keen on sleeping on the couch herself, it's not like she has a choice on the matter. The cushion is uncomfortable as hell, it's like sitting on a pile of bricks. That's more than enough reason to let you sleep on her bed. Plus, with the mess and worry weighing on her mind, she doubted she'd be able to sleep anyway.

She was about to leave to clean the mess in the living room when she finally sat you down on her bed, but a hand stopped her.

"…have you seen my bag, Hay?"

"Oh, that? Do you want me to get it for you?"

"No, no. Thanks but I can get it myself." You made a move to stand but Haley kept a firm grip on your shoulder.

Haley frowned. "You can't barely even stand. Do you think I'm gonna let you walk by yourself? What's in the bag anyway? I'll get it for you."

"I'm wounded, not disabled–" you tried to say but Haley only raised an eyebrow at you, daring you to finish your sentence. You sighed when you realized that you wouldn't win against her again. "It's... it's a gift."

"For whom?" Haley couldn't help but ask. Who could you possibly want to give a gift that you almost died just to get it?

Was it for Penny? Haley heard she liked gems as well. Or was it Maru? If she could remember correctly, tomorrow's her birthday and she seemed to like everything you can find in caves. This totally makes sense.

But why did her heart clench at the thought? More importantly, how did she even remember all this information when she didn't care about them at all?

Before you could respond, Haley left the room to retrieve your rucksack. She felt like she didn't need to hear the answer to her question.

When she returned, she wordlessly handed the bag to you, prepared to leave the room once more. However, your voice stopped her in her tracks.

"It's for you."

She turned, mouth agape. "What?"

"It's for you." You smiled warmly as you held out a familiar-looking crystalline gem, about the size of a palm, emitting a dazzling array of colors.

Haley's initial surprise quickly turned to dismay as she recognized the mineral. Her frown deepened, and a flicker of discomfort passed through her eyes at the sight of it. She knew what it was, and just the thought of touching it made her feel physically ill.

"What's wrong?" you asked, concerned at her sudden change in demeanor.

"I don't like your stupid gift!" She didn't intend for it to sound harsh, but as soon as her mouth opened, she couldn't stop the words from spilling out. "I honestly thought you'd know better than to give me something like this."

"I..."

"Keep it," she said with finality. "Good night, Y/n."

With a curt nod, she turned on her heel and stormed off, the sound of the door slamming shut echoing in the room as she left.

****

She shouldn't have said that. She knows she shouldn't have but she was just so worried she couldn't control anything else spouting from her foul mouth.

She hated how she caused the light in your eyes to die down. Hated the way you weren't able to say anything else. Hated the way she just couldn't probably express her worries properly.

Now you probably thought she hated your guts.

Which is far from the truth. Kind of the opposite actually but she's far too tired and confused to delve into her feelings further at the moment.

It's true she doesn't share the same passion for gems and rocks as her sister Emily, and people will generally thank someone who will give them a prismatic shard because for one, they are pretty, she's not gonna lie about that. Secondly, they're super rare and by extension, expensive.

Haley just couldn't bring herself to appreciate it in the same way.

She hated them with passion. And she hated people assuming she liked shiny things because of her personality.

While it's true she's kind of materialistic, it was a trait ingrained in her from years of her parents trying to compensate for their absence by showering her with gifts.

She didn't like being materialistic, but she's so used to it that it's hard to stop.

And she hated how you seemed to think the same way about her when you thought about giving her a prismatic shard as a gift. That all she ever was were just pretty and expensive gifts.

And she hated how you let yourself get hurt just to give her this.

She hated everything about this.

****

Haley spent the majority of the night cleaning the living room, hoping to tire herself out enough to dull the heaviness and emptiness in her heart. She didn't know it was possible to feel both at the same time, but there she was, experiencing it firsthand, and she despised every moment of it.

And she hated herself more now because she found herself padding her way towards her room. Her steps faltered when she saw you peacefully sleeping on her bed. A gentle smile touched her lips at the sight of your chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm.

Unable to resist, Haley approached you quietly. She carefully tucked you in, a tenderness in her actions that betrayed the turmoil in her heart. Leaning down, she pressed a soft kiss to your bandaged forehead, a gesture she had learned from her late grandmother.

"To kiss the pain away," her grandmother used to say, and Haley found solace in that belief.

With one last caress of your cheek, Haley settled onto the foot of her bed, a magazine in hand, silently hoping for the sun's rays to finally peek behind the horizon by her room's window.

****

Haley woke up surprisingly lacking any back pains. She didn't feel sleep-deprived either.

Wait—

How'd she get in her bed? You're supposed to be– Oh.

She sat up straight when she realized she was holding a letter in her hand. Straightening up the almost crumpled paper, she could recognize your handwriting immediately.

Good morning, Haley. Sorry for the disturbance last night, and thank you for taking care of me. It means a lot. I didn't want to impose more than I already have so I excused myself while you were asleep. Thank you again. — Y/n

Haley studied the letter, noting the hastily scribbled handwriting that differed from your usual neat script. She could imagine you rushing to write it just to avoid dealing with her.

It hurt more than she cared to admit. But after what she said to you, who was she to complain?

At this point, it would be a miracle if you still talked to her.

"Good morning, sis!" Emily chirped, her voice echoing through the room as Haley emerged from her room. She sat on the couch, casually knitting what appeared to be another sweatshirt.

Haley's expression was one of mild annoyance as she replied, "It's noon."

"Storm has passed but Caroline canceled, just to be safe," Emily responded, her fingers deftly working the knitting needles as she spoke. "And I know it's noon. Just wanted to emphasize you slept late, little lady."

She glanced around the living room, noting the sunlight filtering in through the curtains, indicating that the day was well underway and the storm had thankfully subsided.

"Why are you here anyway? Don't you have a yoga class to attend to?"

Haley let out a resigned groan, her movements sluggish as she made her way toward the kitchen to avoid further conversation with her sister.

"Just so you know, I saw Y/n/n come out of your room!" Emily called out from the living room, her tone playful yet teasing.

Haley froze mid-step, her grip tightening on the handle of her mug. "Wha—" Her voice wavered slightly, betraying her surprise. "Nothing happened!"

"Of course, nothing's going to happen in that state she's in," Emily retorted.

Haley couldn't ignore the sense of urgency that suddenly gripped her at the mention of your state. You're in no condition to go home all by yourself.

"Just tell me you took her home," she pleaded, her tone softening slightly as she returned to the living room.

Thankfully, Emily's too caught up with her work to notice that brief slip-up of vulnerability Haley rarely shows.

"I volunteered actually, but Penny saw us on our way and insisted she could do the job," Emily explained, her tone matter-of-fact.

"And you agreed?!" she sputtered incredulously.

"Of course, I would!" Emily readily defended. "She volunteered!"

Haley's sigh was heavy as she sank down onto the couch next to Emily. "You should have woken me up."

She could feel Emily's eyes settling on her as if trying to decipher what's got her so distressed.

"I tried, but Y/n/n won't let me. Said you needed the sleep," Emily finally answered after a few moments of silence.

"You're unbelievable." Haley couldn't help but massage the bridge of her nose at Emily's casualness about the situation as if seeing a heavily injured farmer waltz out of Haley's room was just a normal occurrence. "I suppose she told you what happened then?"

"Uh-huh. Accident in the mines, right? And she went here instead to the clinic because Harvey would kill her once he saw her state." Emily chuckled, her tone light as if discussing the weather. "He just literally told her last time to take it easy."

Haley blinked in disbelief. "And how do you know this?"

"Everyone knows this, Haley." Emily looked at her as if wondering why she didn't know this piece of information. "It's practically a common thing to see Y/n/n passed out outside in the morning."

Haley's brows furrowed in frustration, her mind racing with thoughts. Of course, she doesn't know this. If she would have known, she would have told you to take it easy. Hell, she'll help with farming if it will make things easier for you. This thing where you pass out and overwork yourself shouldn't be normalized. Actually, if anything—

She stopped herself from this line of thinking because why the hell was she even considering helping out with your farm when she, in fact, hated dirt?

"She also told me how you stepped up and helped her," Emily continued, her voice pulling Haley back to the present moment. She felt Emily's hand pat her shoulder in a gesture of reassurance. "I saw she's well-cleaned up. I'm proud of you, sis."

Haley forced a smile, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. I'm not proud of what I did, Em.

*****

Summer 10

The sky was painted with hues of pink and orange as Haley sat alone on the shore, the gentle sound of waves lapping against the sand providing a soothing rhythm to her troubled thoughts. She had come here seeking solace, the ocean always offering her a sense of peace in times of distress.

The events yesterday had bothered her more than she had let on. She convinced herself you'd understand why she reacted the way she did but a part of herself thinks she should apologize.

But as stubborn as she is, she instead spent the whole day sulking, which is what she did.

She embraced her knees closer to her chest, fingers brushing the bracelet adorning her wrist. It was her great-grandma's, a delicate piece of jewelry passed down through generations adorned in gold and pearl on the middle part. Her grandmother has given it to her instead of her mom because she'd rather wear luxurious things than some hand-me-down jewelry. But Haley loved them, and it's probably the only piece of jewelry she'd ever wear aside from the shell necklace she was wearing now.

It was a ritual of sorts for her, wearing the bracelet whenever she felt sad and alone. It's as if wearing it made her feel like her grandma was with her at this very moment, comforting her.

She was so lost in her own thoughts that she didn't realize her bracelet had slipped from her wrist. It wasn't until she reached to adjust it that she felt its absence.

"Oh, no..."

With trembling hands, she combed through the sand, her movements growing more frantic with each passing moment. Her eyes scanned the water's edge, fearing the worst as she desperately sought any glimmer of gold amidst the grains of sand.

No, no... impossible. She made sure she was far enough from the water for that specific reason.

An hour passed with no sign of the precious heirloom, and Haley felt tears welling up in her eyes as desperation threatened to consume her. She practically combed the whole beach for it and still no signs of the bracelet.

She couldn't help but slump back to the sand. She's feeling everything too much.

She's such a useless piece of shit. She couldn't even kept an important heirloom. How the hell can she even keep someone like you in her life?

Everyone's right. She's way up high in the clouds that everything she touches crumbles within her fingertips.

The tears are threatening to fall from her eyes and a sob is rising on her throat.

And just before a tear fell from her eyes, a hand shot up and grabbed her by the shoulder.

She looked up and met a pair of gray eyes staring into her own. The grayish color of your eyes is stark and deep and seemed a little bluish from the illumination of the sun. It almost looked like the sky during spring or the ocean seen from a cruising ship as a cold tundra threatened to ruin the quiet solitude of the season. Your eyes telltale thousands of untold stories with every blink, stories too ambiguous, too dark for any of them to understand. Though not dark enough to feed her thoughts of the midnight sea, of storms and drowning.

Calloused fingertips thumbed mascara stains from her cheeks with such gentleness Haley doesn't think she deserves.

"I'm here," you murmured. "What happened, Haley?"

"I l-lost it," she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion as she struggled to hold back tears. "My bracelet... it's gone! I know I had it on when I got here... But now it's gone, Y/n and I can't find it anywhere..."

She couldn't help the sob that escaped her as she burrows closer into you. She had probably stained your shirt with expensive make-up and salty tears but she didn't care as she dug her face deeper into your collar bone further and sucks a shaky breath.

"Shh," you soothed, sturdy arms wrapped around her tightened instinctively. "I'll go find it, don't worry."

"I'll never find another one like it..."

"I'm really sorry..." she felt you murmur against her hair. "I'm sure it's just around here somewhere."

"...maybe it'll wash up on another shore," she hiccuped between sobs. "I can't bear to think of it at the bottom of the ocean."

"We'll find it, okay?" you assured her, and Haley swore her heart stopped beating when you planted a soft kiss on her forehead. "Stay here. We're not leaving until we find your bracelet."

****

And truth be told you did find it.

After what seemed like an eternity of combing through the sand, Haley's eyes lit up as she spotted the familiar-looking bracelet in your hands.

With a smile so bright it rivaled the sun, you approached her.

"You found it!" she cheered as she run towards you, hopping from the sand and straight to your arms.

You weren't deterred by this and proceeded to secure your arms around her to prevent her from falling.

"Careful there, we don't want to drop it again, do we?" You barked out a laugh but Haley was quick to recognize the grunt of pain in them.

"Yoba, I'm sorry! I forgot you're still wounded!" Haley made a move to let you go but you weren't having any of it. If anything, you hold her tighter. Haley couldn't help but let out a laugh as well as she wrapped her arms around your neck just as firmly. "Thank you so much, Y/n. You're a lifesaver."

"You're welcome," you murmured against her chest. "Here, I'll help you wear it."

You gently set her down, much to her disappointment, and began to fasten the bracelet around her wrist, your actions filled with care and tenderness.

"Thank you, Y/n. Really," she murmured softly. "You're always there whenever I needed you and all you get as a thank you is me being... a bitch to you. I'm sorry."

You frowned. "You're not a... 'b' word. Far from it."

"'B' word,"she scoffed, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips "What are you, twelve?"

"Hey!" you protested in mock indignation. "I can cuss. I just don't want to use it around you. I don't want to get used to it."

Haley's gaze softened drastically. If you keep this kind of consistency around her then Haley's bound to fall hard on her back. And since it's with you, you'd probably made your way to ensure she'll be falling in a pile of pillows and flowers. You're thoughtful like that.

"I'm sorry for giving you that gift yesterday..." you started after a moment of silence. "Let me finish first," you interrupted gently when you saw her mouth open to speak. "I just... prismatic shards are rare to find and I wanted to give it to you because I thought it's something you'd like to photograph."

You took her hand in yours, a tender gesture that made Haley's heart skip a beat, her cheeks flushing slightly at the warmth of your touch. The soft morning light bathed the shoreline in a golden hue, casting long shadows across the sand as gentle waves lapped against the shore.

"But then I realized how it may have looked like to you, and I'm sorry I made you feel that way."

"Y/n..."

"So I like to try again." Without further explanation, you strode towards the boat beside Elliot's cabin, your steps confident and purposeful, and produced a bouquet of—wait, are those sunflowers?

"No way!" she sputtered as she tried to fight the grin threatening to spill on her face. You're not supposed to look this dashing walking towards her with a bouquet in hand. It's unfair!

"Yes way." you grinned at her as you handed her the flowers, your eyes sparkling with mischief. "I hope I'm forgiven."

"I'm supposed to be the one saying sorry, you dunce!" Haley playfully slapped your shoulders before accepting them. "They're beautiful, Y/n! These are my absolute favorite! Thank you."

"No worries. And if you're free you can take a look at them at my farm."

"You planted them?" Now that she had mentioned it, it sounded like a stupid question. Of course, you planted them yourself, where else can you get these flowers?

But as usual, being the kind and patient person that you are, you only beamed at her and nodded. "Yep! I planted a whole yard."

"For real?"

"For real," you affirmed, your smile widening at her incredulous expression.

"But why? I mean compared to other crops I'm sure sunflowers aren't that profitable."

You shrugged again, your expression softening. "Eh, I wasn't aiming for the profit. I was aiming for your smile."

****

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A/n: my toes are curling while I wrote this, I hope you felt the same. Anyway, the bouquet of sunflowers isn't the same bouquet that makes Haley your girlfriend. It's just a regular ol' bouquet our farmer has personally crafted because she's a simp for our queen but just too oblivious to see it. Sorry for the delay, I had just finished my clinical recently so I was busy the whole month of April. Hope y'all like this one!

P.S. comments are much appreciated!

THANK YOU FOR 2500 LIKES! YOU GUYS ARE THE BEST, SERIOUSLY.

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