#the (s) is for if they decide to like. split the sessions up into A team and B team

[cattycaleb]

honestly VERY excited for the potential rp moments next session(s) with the way the group is split

[les4elliewilliams]

❝SHE’S A MANEATER!❞

LOSER!ELLIE ﾒ MEAN!READER

❝OH-OH HERE SHE COMES WATCH OUT, GIRL, SHE’LL CHEW YOU UP!❞

ᝰ.ᐟ ⌞SUMMARY⌝﹕After bumping into you on her first day of college, Ellie spends the entire year captivated by you from a distance. You're everything she could never be—popular, wealthy, and effortlessly alluring, with a perfect, disgustingly rich family to match. Convinced she didn’t stand a chance, Ellie resigns herself to watching from the sidelines. But when her best friend Dina suggests they work at a public pool for the summer, Ellie agrees, hoping to save up some money. What she never expected was to find you there, commanding the space with a magnetic, dangerous charm that pulls her in. Now, Ellie’s summer is about to take a turn she never saw coming, and she’s about to find out just how close she can get to you before it all falls apart.

✶.ᐟ ⌞THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS⌝﹕ approx 16k words⨾ bullying⨾ cursing⨾ use of alcohol and drugs⨾ angst⨾ reader being a bitch for no reason⨾ 18+ CONTENT⨾ cunnilingus (𝑒!receiving)⨾ semi-public sex ig?? (in the bathroom of their workplace)⨾ coworker!ellie⨾ dom!reader⨾ fem!reader⨾ player!reader x loser!ellie⨾ slapping⨾ jealousy issues??⨾ overstimulation⨾ ellie squirting (yumm)⨾ lmk if i missed anything!

.ᐟ.ᐟ ⌞AUTHOR´S NOTE⌝﹕this series took me forever to finish and almost deleted it because i had no motivation:3 the whole thing was supposed to be a quick one shot but its too long for that, i fear. (around 40k words) so i decided im gonna split it in two and make a sequel (for those who care); proofread by @sapphichotmess (i love you sm)

#.ᐟ ⌞TAGLIST⌝﹕ @pick-me-up-im-scared @rew1nds @aouiaa [comment to be added!]

#.ᐟ ⌞CHAPTERS⌝ ↯

˗ˏˋ 𝕠𝕟𝕖 ⋆ 𝐭𝐰𝐨 ⋆ 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞 ˎˊ˗

palestine masterpost ⋆ read this ⋆ daily clicks

Summer 2023, Santa Barbara.

23th of June.

The first year of college felt like it dragged on forever, with endless lectures, assignments, and late-night cram sessions that blurred into one exhausting marathon. But then, as if in the blink of an eye, it was over. Ellie packed up her dorm room, said her goodbyes, and headed home with the promise of a long, lazy summer stretching out before her.

The auburnette was a quiet introvert with a love for solitary activities, ready to kick back and relax. She loved this time of year—the bright, sunny days and the chilly, star-filled nights. The beach was her favorite place to unwind, where she could lose herself in the soothing rhythm of the waves crashing against the ancient shores and the feel of the sand between her toes. She loved soaking up the sun, letting its warmth seep into her freckled skin, and staying up late with her friends playing video games, adrenaline-pumping matches that promised to take all their sleepiness away, their laughter echoing into the early hours of the morning—or until Joel woke up to her yelling at random kids online and told her to turn it off, threatening to take all her consoles away.

But as the days melted into weeks, a sense of restlessness began to creep in. The once comforting routine now felt monotonous, and Ellie found herself craving something different, suddenly feeling unproductive. The pressure to change her routine was mounting, especially with Joel’s words ringing in her ears. He was dead serious when he told her she needed to stop being a lazy ass and start doing something with her life. He claimed that, by her age, he had already tried almost every job under the sun and didn’t want to see her wasting her days away.

At first, Ellie brushed off Joel's comments, but they lingered in the back of her mind, gnawing at her. Then, Dina chimed in, convincing her to join her and Jesse as lifeguards at the local pool. The idea seemed laughable to Ellie. She couldn’t imagine herself in such a role—standing on the pool deck, whistle in hand, ready to dive in at a moment's notice. But with nothing else on her plate and a growing desire to be productive, Ellie decided to give it a shot. 

What could possibly go wrong, after all?

What else did she have to do? Absolutely nothing. And she figured she could always quit if things were really that bad. No harm in trying, right?

With a mix of nervousness and excitement, the young girl signed up for the lifeguard training course. The first few days were grueling—learning CPR, mastering rescue techniques, and memorizing safety protocols. She quickly realized that she enjoyed the physical challenge and the sense of responsibility that came with the role. Plus, spending her days by the pool wasn’t too far off from her ideal summer.

After a week of rigorous training, Ellie had finally reached a level where she felt ready. However, her confidence faltered when she discovered you were also working there. Every time she beheld you, your ethereal and almost unreal presence left her breathless. Her heart raced wildly, and a lump formed in her throat that threatened to strangle her. She knew who you were but doubted you even knew she existed. You were stunning and popular, seemingly out of her league. She felt like a total loser, a nerd invisible to every girl on the planet, except for those weird and jerky dudes she couldn’t stand. Her feelings of inadequacy were overwhelming, and you sure made her question her own worth and existence. 

She saw you every day on campus, a sprawling green space bustling with students. You were always walking around with your group, a bunch of stylish individuals who cared a lot about their appearances, invariably decked out in expensive clothes. You were part of that clique, but she always felt like you were different somehow. Maybe it was how you looked at her on the first day of college when she accidentally bumped into you and made all your books drop to the floor.

Ellie remembered that moment vividly. The campus, with its towering oak trees and vibrant flower beds, had been buzzing with the energy of new beginnings. She had been rushing to her next class, preoccupied with a million different thoughts when she collided with you. Your books scattered across the walkway, and she dropped to her knees, frantically trying to gather them up while mumbling apologies. Your friends' disdainful looks made her cheeks burn with humiliation, but your reaction was entirely different. You crouched down, your fingers brushing against hers as you both reached for the same book, and you gave her a smile that was kind and understanding.

She couldn’t help but replay the moment in her mind, wondering if it had meant as much to you as it had to her. 

Jesse’s constant teasing didn’t help. He loved to remind her of her awkwardness, mimicking how she stumbled over her words and nearly fell on her face right in front of you.

And now, seeing you standing there, the auburnette felt that same nervous energy bubbling up again. Your red lifeguard uniform clung to your body like a second skin, making her heart perform a series of pathetic, acrobatic flips. She watched you from a distance, marveling at how effortlessly you moved, how you seemed to command attention without even trying. You were a natural leader, confident and composed, while Ellie felt like a bundle of nerves just trying to keep up. A small part of her that hoped she might get to know you better, to see if that smile you had given her on the first day was a glimpse of something more.

“Oh shiii- she works here too?” Ellie looked to her best friend Dina, her eyebrows raised in surprise as she observed your every move. You casually blowing your whistle at a group of kids playing fights with crumbs of bread stood out to her immediately, watching in fascination as you effortlessly kept the children in line.

“Yeah, ‘course she does.” Dina couldn't contain a small snort of laughter as she pulled on a vibrant red T-shirt over her red bikini, its vivacious color standing out against her tanned skin. “She does every year,” she shared, her voice tinged with a hint of amusement. But how could she know this when all she did was immerse herself in gaming, hanging out with friends, and getting high rather than seeking part-time work to earn extra cash like every other 18-year-old? 

She also found it perplexing that a wealthy individual like you would even bother working in the first place; after all, from what she had heard, you always got whatever you asked for from your father. She guessed that the only possible reasons you might have been working were to become more independent or to seek out something to occupy your time.

“Oh.” Her rosy pink lips formed a perfect 'o' shape, her surprise evident in how they parted. “Why didn’t you tell me?” She whispered loudly to her friend. 

Dina's brow rose quizzically as she placed her hands on her hips. “Why, did you want to know?” Dina shot Ellie a doubtful look, the same disapproving glance she always gave her whenever Ellie expressed interest in a girl who ultimately turned out to be straight.

The redhead nonchalantly shrugged her shoulders, “No, but–” she was quick to cut her off before Ellie could come up with an excuse that wouldn't hold water. Her friend could read her like an open book, and she knew certainly what was going on just by witnessing the heart-shaped pupils of Ellie's eyes as they lingered on you from afar.

“–Nuh-uh. You’re just being a delusional lesbian again,” Dina called her out on it, and the freckled girl reacted almost dramatically, gasping at the brunette's accusation.

“Don’t give me that look,” she pointed a finger at Ellie, finger jabbing the air like a weapon of accusation. “You told me to stop you before you started falling for another straight girl, and that’s exactly what I’m doing right now. Calling you out on your shit.” Dina’s voice was firm and uncompromising, her words leaving no space for negotiation or debate. Her eyes, deep pools of golden-hued amber, narrowed into slits, fixed on her friend with a steely gaze. The young girl knew better than to argue with her best friend.

Deep down, Ellie knew Dina was right. Images of her previous “relationship” flashed through her mind—the heartbreak, the disappointment, the tears—all because some bi-curious girl had led her on, only to reject her in the end. Who was there to pick up the pieces and put her back together again? None other than Dina, of course. And Jesse, but he wasn’t that helpful.

The green-eyed girl crossed her arms over her chest and huffed in response, her frustration evident in her defensive body language. “But she smiled at me on the first day of college, remember? When I bumped into her and made her drop all her books?”

Dina rolled her eyes and let out a deep sigh, shaking her head in disbelief, she truly couldn’t believe how clueless and naive her best friend could be at times, or maybe she just pretended to be dumb as fuck; Dina wasn’t sure. “Ellie, she was just being nice. That doesn’t mean she’s into you.” frustration colored her voice.

A sigh left the redhead’s lips, her gaze trailing back to you, unable to keep her eyes from checking you out. Seeing you sent her thoughts astray, her heart racing as she studied your features once more. “I know, I know. But a girl can dream, right?”

“Yeah, dream away. Just don’t get your hopes up too high. We’ve got a job to do, so stop daydreaming about unattainable girls and go get changed.” The black-haired girl demanded, shifting her weight from foot to foot, her arms hanging by her sides.

Ellie nodded, trying to push aside her feelings of infatuation. She knew Dina was right, but it was hard to ignore the fluttering in her chest every time her hazel eyes landed on you. 

The first day, Jesse showed the auburnette around, explaining all the rules she and everyone else had to follow—when to yell at people, when to blow the whistle, the regular stuff. Ellie wanted to talk to you, to introduce herself at the very least, considering you were colleagues now, but she didn’t have the guts.

How you walked around and carried yourself, it was almost as if you owned the place. You were so confident, and Ellie felt like a creep for not being able to ignore your presence. Her eyes naturally darted towards you, tracing every contour and inch of your exposed body, only covered by a red one-piece swimsuit. You looked like you were coming straight out of Baywatch, looking like every teenage boy’s dream... and hers, too. 

She felt ashamed for not being any better than a man.

Ellie really tried to focus on what Jesse was saying, but her mind kept drifting back to you. She felt a mix of awe and frustration. How could someone be so effortlessly captivating? The way you moved, the way you interacted with everyone—it was like you belonged in a different league.

“Ellie, you with me?” Jesse’s voice broke through her thoughts.

“Uh, yeah, sorry,” she stammered, feeling her cheeks heat up.

Jesse raised an eyebrow but continued. “Like I was saying, just remember to stay alert and don’t hesitate to step in if something looks off. We’ve got a good team here, so don’t worry.”

Ellie nodded, trying to absorb the information. She glanced at you again, noticing how you seemed completely at ease, chatting and laughing with the other lifeguards. The auburnette envied that ease, that confidence, something she seemed to lack. Ellie always felt out of place in moments like this. She tried not to be so shy and be more easygoing, but your presence felt almost intimidating. She couldn’t shake the feeling of inadequacy. You were so stunning, so composed, and she felt like a fucking loser in comparison.

24th of June.

Since she couldn’t bring herself to talk to you on the first day, Ellie tried again on the second, encouraged by Jesse’s comforting words, “Try not to look like a drooling loser when you talk to her,” He couldn't help but crack a smile at the almost imperceptible scoff she gave him in response. Her sun-kissed cheeks turned an even deeper shade of pink, making her freckles look like tiny specks of stardust against a rosy sky. It was endearing how easy it was to tease her, and what Jesse found more endearing was how she couldn’t tear her attentive eyes away from you, tracking your every move like a hawk eyeing its next meal or an art connoisseur fixated on a masterpiece—almost as if you were the center of her universe, a celestial body she could orbit but never touch. 

He knocked his shoulder into hers, sending her stumbling awkwardly and bursting her fragile soap bubble, scattering her thoughts into a chaotic mess. Startled and momentarily yanked out of her little barrier of daydreams and delusions, she mumbled defensively under her breath, “I’m not a loser.” Before she could gather herself, he was already striding away, heading toward a group of kids running around the pool, corralling them like a shepherd with a sharp blow of his whistle.

Her ivy-hued irises followed him for a moment before drifting back to you. You were conversing with an older woman, a beaming smile adorning your face as you nodded at her words every now and then; your hair framed your immaculate features in such a way that Ellie wanted to capture that moment forever. Something about your effortless beauty captivated her; you were so perfect that it made her wonder if you could possibly be real. Could you be just the result of her wild imagination? Possibly, yeah.

Ellie just lingered in the background, waiting patiently for an opportunity to approach you without interrupting your conversation. She had been acting busy, meticulously inspecting the pool to make sure everyone was following the rules, but her eyes kept drifting back to you. She couldn’t help it. When she observed you walking towards a plastic chair, sensing her chance, she mustered up her courage and approached you.

Don’t be a pussy, don’t be a pussy. Ellie repeated the words to herself like a mantra.

Her heart raced wildly as she walked towards you, her mind a whirl of anxious thoughts. What if she stumbled over her words?

With every step she took, the knots in her stomach grew tighter and tighter.

She kept debating with herself, inching closer and closer to you. Honestly, the thought of talking to you was unbearable. She knew she’d end up looking like a fool. Why was she even trying to get your attention? Wait, was that really her intention? Was she actually planning to make you like her? She huffed at her desperation.

Maybe she could just turn back and pretend you weren’t there. Like she didn’t see you every day at work. 

As she continued her internal argument, your voice suddenly snapped her back to reality.

“Hey, you’re the new girl,” You exclaimed, taking a confident step toward the freckle-faced girl. She swore she could almost see the confidence pouring out of your every pore, her heart pounding wildly in her chest and palms becoming disgustingly clammy as her cheeks flushed, the relentless sun only making it worse. Being so close to you, Ellie noticed how each strand of your hair swayed with the gentle summer breeze that had decided to bless them on the disturbingly hot summer day.

There was no fucking way you noticed her, no fucking way you were talking to her right now. Ellie forced out a dry, awkward chuckle, “Y-yeah. Think that’s me,” she stumbled over her words, giving you a half-crooked smile, her eyes darting around nervously, avoiding direct eye contact. She felt ridiculous for not being able to maintain steady eye contact. Why did she have to be so embarrassing? Why was talking to pretty girls so fucking hard?

“Yeah,” you responded with a steady tone, in stark contrast to her shaky and almost timid voice. Your gaze shamelessly roamed over every inch of her, taking in every detail from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. A barely audible hum escaped your lips, “Ellen, right?” you inquired, your eyes locking briefly before the aubrunette looked away again.

“Ellie,” she corrected you shyly, her slender fingers absentmindedly tracing delicate patterns on the back of her neck.

“Why, what did I say?” you questioned nonchalantly, still studying her. She felt small and insignificant under your scrutinizing gaze, almost judged. All of a sudden, she felt so self-conscious about her looks.

“Nothing,” she mumbled, snorting quietly. Uncertain of what to do next and feeling almost scared of contradicting you, she hesitantly reached out her hand toward you. Your inquisitive eyes locked onto her veiny hand, studying it for a few moments before finally shaking it. “Nice to meet you.” 

Starstruck eyes stared right back at yours, and a wide grin that never left her face. She felt a rush of adrenaline pumping through her veins as she held your hand, letting it linger a bit longer than necessary, though too lost in a world of her own to notice. After a whole semester pining over you on campus, watching you from afar like a Joel Goldberg, she finally found herself face-to-face with you, engaged in a real conversation. She had been waiting for this moment for a lifetime, almost, feeling truly seen and known by you for the very first time.

A slow smile crept across your face, and your gaze dropped down to her hand, which was still firmly attached to yours in a stubborn grip like a tenacious octopus refusing to let go. “Don’t get attached,” Your jest had a confident, almost boastful tone, causing her heart to skip a beat.

Were you making fun of her? Was she making a fool of herself? Her mind quickly became consumed by overthinking. It was absurd; how could she draw such strong conclusions after just two minutes of conversation with you? Three minutes was enough to send her thoughts into a tempestuous cyclone, their rhythm erratic and tumultuous. She told herself that she was simply overthinking, but sometimes, it's easy to mistake intuition for overthinking.

The nervous girl forced out a strained, strangled chuckle, “I’ll try not to,” she said, attempting to match your casual tone, even though her heart was still racing.

You laughed softly, a sound that seemed to echo in her mind long after you walked away. Ellie stood there for a moment, trying to steady her breath and slow down her chaotic thoughts. Her eyes darted towards Dina, who stood nearby with a smirk on her face, arms crossed over her chest and leaning nonchalantly against the bar wall. Her long, dark brown hair was tied up in a high, sleek ponytail, and she casually chewed on a piece of gum, observing the entire encounter with a mixture of amusement and appraisal.

“See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Dina teased her friend, walking over to her.

Ellie rolled her eyes but couldn’t help smiling. “Yeah, sure. Piece of cake,” she muttered, though the adrenaline still coursed through her veins.

As the day continued, Ellie found herself glancing at you more often than she’d like to admit. Each time she saw you, she felt a mix of excitement and anxiety. She couldn’t shake the gut feeling that this summer was going to be different.

28th of June.

Ellie sighed in relief as she sought refuge under the closest patch of shade she could find. The scorching sun was relentless, turning her into a messy canvas for glistening beads of sweat to trickle down her dotted face and back. The air felt heavy and stagnant, intensifying the already stifling heat. It seemed like the sun had a personal vendetta against her today, making every little thing feel ten times more irritating.

Like you, for example.

Being around you was a source of never-ending irritation for her, and she despised the fact that she had to share the same airspace with you. It was an injustice in her eyes, how your stunning good looks did not reflect your unpleasant personality. How could looks be so fucking deceiving? Ellie had no clue, all she knew was that she fell for it. Every. Single. Time.

The fury inside her was like an uncontrollable wildfire as she aggressively scribbled over your name with her pen in her journal. If only it were that easy to erase you completely, to make you vanish as if you had never existed. Feeling completely dumb for even remotely thinking that you could be any different from the people you hung out with. Every time she had to interact with you, the only thoughts echoing in her mind were Dina's warning words. 

Dina was right.

But Ellie would never say it out loud only to get an “I told you” back.

Everyone had warned her about you—they all knew the truth about your character, yet she found herself stubbornly holding onto the belief that there was something more to you than just the surface-level impression. If she were to add your name to a list of defining terms, it would undoubtedly be accompanied by words like “evil,”“spoiled,” or even the simplest yet most descriptive term, “brat.”

Working with you was a constant nightmare; even being in the same vicinity as you felt like torturous purgatory. You seemed incapable of restraining yourself, constantly throwing witty, biting remarks to the anxious girl, even when she hadn't provoked you in any way. It perplexed her—why did you take such pleasure in taunting her? It was as if the world itself would implode if you didn’t pick on her despite the seemingly nonexistent reasons behind your hostility. She often found herself rambling about you to her friends. This time, though, not in a good way.

Talking to you felt like a return to the nightmarish experience that was middle school, a trip down memory lane that brought back memories she had worked so hard to forget. The bullying she had endured during that period had left a lasting impact on her, and your presence seemed to trigger something in her. It was for that exact reason that she tried her best to keep any interactions with you brief, limited to the bare essentials.

She watched as you sprang from your seat, sprinting after the kids, yelling at them, the shrill sound of your annoying whistle piercing the air. Threats flew from your mouth, aimed at their misbehavior and disruption of the pool’s tranquility. The best part? No one seemed to care about your passive-aggressive attitude because, let’s face it, you were just doing your job, and you were pretty damn good at it—pretty damn good at scaring people.

Ellie’s eyes took in the kids' terrified faces as they looked up at you, wide-eyed and quivering, but you didn’t care. Their fear didn’t stop you from messing with their childish, naive minds. Their innocence was like a delicate flower, easily manipulated. If Ellie claimed she didn't find it amusing, her nose would’ve grown like Pinocchio’s. It was almost comical how easily you maintained order, seemingly without effort. You possessed a natural inclination for control, a characteristic that could be a strength or a flaw, depending on one's perspective. 

“You know what happens if you run on a wet floor? You slip and hit your head,” you barked, hands firmly planted on your hips. “Is that what you two little gremlins want? To end up in a hospital with a cracked skull?” The kids darted off to their mothers, who were too engrossed in their own conversations to notice. You scoffed, watching them scamper away like puppies with their tails between their legs. Crossing your arms over your red bikini top, you muttered, “That’s what I thought,” a smirk curling your lips. It was almost as if you derived some twisted satisfaction from seeing others—especially kids—tremble in fear. There was an ever-present sadistic delight in your eyes whenever someone dared to cross your path, a blend of authority and mischief that made you the unchallenged queen of the poolside.

Ellie only ever saw a warm smile on your face when you were talking to the moms of the kids you had scared away in such a devilish manner. You transformed around them, becoming overly sugary-sweet, showering them with compliments and shooting wide grins their way. Your demeanor softened, offering them drinks as if you were hosting a garden party instead of working at a public pool.

The redhead scoffed as she tried to decipher your persona. You were a walking contradiction, a goddess clad in a red bikini. One moment, you were a menacing warden, barking orders and traumatizing kids; the next, you were a social butterfly, all warm smiles and saccharine charm with their moms. So fucking weird.

Ellie didn’t expect you to notice her presence not so far behind you, but nothing ever seemed to escape your attention. You were like a hawk, sharply observant, contrasting your superficial personality. Then again, maybe it was all an act you were putting on. Ellie marveled at the paradox of your nature—how you seemed so frivolous and charming on the surface yet were always acutely aware of everything happening around you. It was as if you had a second set of eyes hidden behind your back, always watching, always calculating, leaving her to wonder what was real and what was merely a façade.

“What? Got something to say?” Your voice was anything but friendly, ready to spark an argument over nothing. Your arched brows seemed to challenge her, daring her to complain or speak her mind in any way. 

Maybe she should just drop it before you could escalate things. Ellie wasn't in the mood for meaningless bickering, especially not under the blazing sun, sweating like a cow. 

But sometimes, her body loved to betray her.

“That was just a little bit harsh, is all,” the words slipped out before she could stop them, only realizing she'd spoken aloud when your expression shifted to a mocking smirk.

“Pardon?” You challanged, daring her to continue. She knew you had heard her perfectly; if you had caught her scoff a few seconds ago, there was no way you missed her comment now. The awkward girl knew what you were doing—trying to make her feel small and stupid for speaking up.

She couldn't back down now.

Ellie gulped, nerves tightening in her stomach, but stood her ground. “It’s just... they’re kids, you know?” Her voice wavered slightly, but she held your gaze, determined not to let you intimidate her.

“And?” You looked at her like she was exaggerating, as if she had been the one yelling at kids for having fun, threatening to call the police on them, or telling them she'd hijack their Christmas gifts from Santa and sell them on the black market.

Ellie knew there was no point in arguing or trying to tell you off, so she shook her head slowly, her eyes glued to the wet mosaic tiles. An airy chuckle escaped her lips as she replied, “Nothing.”

But of course, you didn’t drop it. “We gotta make sure people—especially kids—don’t get hurt, and if you don’t yell at them, they’re just going to keep doing it—that’s how kids are,” you justify your actions without a hint of remorse in your voice or on your face. The freckled girl knew you were right, but she tended to be softer with kids.

Ellie loved kids and swore nothing was better than being young, carefree, and without worries beyond your favorite toys and your best friend. Sometimes, she missed being a kid, even if she still felt like one deep down. Perhaps the fact that Joel kept treating her like one didn’t help. Always spamming her with texts, asking if she had eaten when she wasn’t home, staying out all day. Asking her a thousand questions at a time, enough to make her brain short-circuit.

“You terrified them!” Ellie exclaimed, though an involuntary laugh slipped out with her words, causing you to smirk ever so slightly.

“Oh, sorry, Eleonor,” you taunted, deliberately getting her name wrong as you stepped closer. “How ‘bout you teach me your ways?” Sarcasm dripped from your voice as your eyes locked with hers. For once, the green-eyed girl managed not to look away; your eyes were so animated and clever, like a fox's gaze, giving off the impression that you were always one step ahead and knew more than you let on.

Ellie’s expression dropped as soon as ‘her’ name rolled off your tongue. You were trying to get under her skin, as always, and despite it being something so insignificant, it worked wonders. The fact that you were invading her personal space didn't help either. “It’s Ellie,” she puffed.

“Oh, I thought it was short for Eleonor,” you said mockingly.

“Nope, just Ellie—’s not short for anything,” she replied, her tone tinged with annoyance, causing you to grin like the Cheshire cat. God, if you loved getting her worked up, having her wrapped around your finger, and messing with her mood so easily. It was endearing, truly.

“Hmm… dunno, I like Eleonor better, though,” you insisted with a cheeky grin. Your voice took on a more sultry tone. Or had she imagined it? Maybe she had.

Ellie had heard that being under the sun for too long could cause hallucinations and general sickness, and she was already sweating like crazy. That was her explanation, because why in the world would you ever try to flirt with her?

“Well, ‘s not my name,” she insisted.

The tanned girl’s chest expanded as her breath caught in her throat as you drew nearer with each passing moment. You inched so close that she could almost discern the individual strands of your eyelashes that cast shadows on her cheeks, the way your bottom lip tucked between your teeth. Your intense gaze, focused and persistent, traced the contours of her cheeks. 

Entranced, Ellie found her emerald eyes involuntarily drawn to your lips, merely inches away from hers. Unconsciously, she moistened her own lips, utterly captivated as she absorbed every pore and mole on your skin, revering every aspect of your being, whether flaw or perfection, with unwavering devotion in her mind. You were insanely beautiful; it was almost unfair. 

You extended your hand to cup her cheek gently, your thumb dragging across her cheekbone, spreading the sunscreen she had hastily applied in the morning. Ellie instinctively flinched at the unexpected contact. “You can't even apply sunscreen correctly,” you sneered, your voice dripping with mockery, before abruptly withdrawing and turning on your heel, leaving her standing there completely bewildered and disoriented.

What the fuck?

She spotted her dear best friend Dina, and Ellie ran up to her, eager to spill everything that had happened. A weird frustration churned inside her, a knot in her stomach that seemed to tighten as she rambled on and on about how obnoxious you were. She was down bad and wasn’t fooling anyone.

“Like- what the hell is her pro—” but Dina had enough.

“Jesus, get a grip, Ellie! Can’t you see I’m busy? You don’t get paid to act like a schoolgirl,” Dina groaned deeply, her manicured hands moving swiftly as she folded the pastel-colored towels, her eyes glued to her agitated friend. The cinnamon-haired girl had been caught in a continuous rant for the last 30 minutes, carelessly stumbling into Dina and disrupting her work as she paced around in a flustered manner.

Ellie groaned deeply in return, almost indignant at Dina’s reaction. How could she brush her off like this instead of offering comfort and reassuring words? Isn’t that what friends are supposed to do? Well, she had been, but at some point, the brunette grew tired of repeating herself over and over.

“I just don’t understand!” Ellie exclaimed furiously, her voice raising just enough to draw the attention of a few people sitting on the pool’s edge. To top it off, when she gestured, her hands knocked into the drinks Jesse was carrying as he approached the two girls from behind. Luckily, the cups were plastic, but the tray was thicker, causing a disturbing noise as it clattered on the mosaic. Ellie’s verdant emeralds widened, and she whipped around, cursing under her breath, “Shit, Jesse!”

She mumbled a flurry of apologies to the taller guy as she crouched down to help with the mess she had inadvertently caused. Her bare knees pressed against the cool, wet mosaic as her hands quickly gathered the plastic cups, stacking them one by one. As she fumbled to collect the scattered paper umbrellas, now lying crumpled on the moist floor, she placed them back on the tray, her movements slightly clumsy. Her chest tightened with embarrassment at the scene she had created.

“The fuck’s going on with you, man?” Jesse’s eyes scanned her face, confused.

“Her little girlfriend! That’s what happened,” his girlfriend exclaimed, completely fed up.

“Oh my god, Dina!” Ellie groaned, exasperated.

Jesse, being his usual self, furrowed his unplucked brows together. A quizzical expression took over his features, “You got a girlfriend?” he asked, bewildered, which seemed to throw Dina off even more, the confusion in his voice only adding fuel to the fire. 

The brunette shook her head, facepalming herself with an exasperated sigh. “I’m done,” she declared before walking away from the two, leaving them staring after her. She had been acting a little lunatic the whole day; maybe she was on her period. Ellie didn’t know. Or maybe it was because she had clumsily dropped Dina’s phone into the pool exactly three hours ago, the same phone she had worked so hard to get because her old one was falling apart like the Pisa tower. But hey, it was still working!

“Who? Cat?” the taller boy suddenly asked, breaking the silence that had settled between them. He redirected his attention back to his friend, and for a moment, all she could do was scoff. She couldn't believe he had actually brought up a girl she dated over three years ago. 

Ellie looked at him in disbelief, her heart-shaped lips slightly agape as if she was about to say something, ready to go off on him, but decided against it at the last moment. ‘Typical Jesse,’ she thought to herself. He knew everything because he always hung out with them, and if he didn’t, his girlfriend made sure to keep him in the loop. Plus, Ellie had a habit of rambling about every girl who kept her up at night, so it was impossible to miss or forget. But that's just how Jesse was—blissfully oblivious and fucking clueless. 

Ellie shook her head and sighed deeply before walking off as well.

“Why? What did I say?” He called out after her, his voice raised just enough to catch her attention. He watched as she stalked away, her irritation clear in the way she carried herself. He was left standing there, looking lost and utterly baffled, with a plastic tray in his hand.

30th of June.

It wasn’t long until another girl joined the team. Ellie was now responsible for introducing the new member and orienting her to the job. She meticulously explained all the rules and how everything worked, ensuring the new girl was well-prepared and well-trained for the job. Otherwise, you’d be on her ass about it, blaming the auburnette for any mistakes, just like you normally did. 

Ellie was initially hesitant, nervously stumbling over her words and avoiding the girl’s Lapis lazuli gaze. However, as time passed, she began to feel more at ease in the blonde's presence. Alexis exuded sweetness and was undeniably beautiful. They found their usual spot by the lifeguard station, sitting side by side and engaging in conversations that meandered through various topics. As they talked, their gazes wandered idly across the bustling pools, and a gentle breeze enveloped them, offering a pleasant sensation on their sun-warmed skin.

The weather was perfect. The gentle breeze kept the air just the right temperature, and the sunshine was warm without being too intense. Fluffy white clouds floated by, offering a welcome break from the direct sunlight. Their billowing forms shielded the freckled girl from the harsh rays that might otherwise have left her fair skin burnt and uncomfortable.

She had not set out intending to forge new friendships that summer. Although It felt too soon to label Alexis as a friend, she didn’t mind the possibility of meeting new people. Though she treasured her current friends, there were times when she craved the fresh energy that came with forming new connections. She recognized that stepping out of her comfort zone and meeting new faces could bring a welcome change, and she needed to ‘expand her social horizons’—Joel’s words.

However, you didn’t waste a second. You quickly disrupted Ellie’s fleeting moment of peace, shouting her name loudly and incessantly. Initially, she tried to ignore you, hoping you would give up and leave her be. But you persisted, standing by the bar, leaning against the counter, and chanting her name. When she feigned deafness, you resorted to using your trusty megaphone, the latest object of your obsession, employing it for seemingly every trivial matter.

"Eleanor Williams!”

She closed her eyes and cringed inwardly as her cheeks flushed a bright pink, embarrassed by the unwanted attention she was receiving from the onlookers around her. Their confused glances only added to her discomfort, making her wish for the ground to swallow her up on the spot.

Why did you have to be like this? She stopped asking herself that at some point.

Alexis furrowed her perfectly arched brows, her crystal blue eyes filled with puzzlement as she gazed at Ellie. Her head tilted gracefully to the side, highlighting her confusion as she asked, “Who’s Eleanor?”

“It’s me.” Ellie let out a heavy sigh, slowly rising from her pristine plastic chair, her gaze shifting downwards to the small, delicate figure of the girl before her, muttering, “Be right back,” 

She strode cautiously towards you, avoiding eye contact with everyone looking at her. Every step she took brought her closer to you, but your relentless shouting through the megaphone continued unabated. 

“How many times do I have to shout your name?” You stood with an air of drama, waving your hands in sweeping arcs above you. Your body swayed gently as you shifted your weight to one foot, and your free hand found its place resting comfortably on your hip.

“Once was enough,” Ellie replied flatly. The tension in her expression hinted at the internal dialogue she had engaged in as if she had carefully composed herself, steeling her mind and heart for whatever was coming.

“The fuck are you doing?” You stood there, gazing blankly at her. A hand rested on your left hip, mirroring the other hand on your right hip. The white megaphone was wedged against your side, the loose laces of the bottom of your bikini swaying gently in the breeze.

“What do you mean?” 

“Why are you just sitting there doing absolutely nothing?” you demanded, cutting her off as she tried to reply. “See those ladies over there? They ordered four diet cokes.”

“And?” She pressed her lips together, her eyebrows furrowing as she stared at you, confused.

“So get them their drinks—Gosh! Are you, like, stupid?” You exclaimed with annoyance, the frustration evident in your voice. Ellie’s brows, marked with scars, furrowed as she prepared to engage in a heated argument. “You… drinks… ladies over there… diet coke. Understand?” With a slow and exaggerated mocking tone, as if talking to an alien from outer space.

Ellie’s veiny arms were tightly crossed over her vibrant red t-shirt, creating a striking contrast against her fair skin. A look of determination furrowed her brow, her cheeks flushing as red as a ripe tomato, betraying her attempt to maintain composure and not cause any scene. “I’m a lifeguard,” she reminded you.

You couldn't help but stifle a dry chuckle as the corners of your lips curled up into a smile at her statement, practically laughing in her face. Stepping closer to her, you couldn't contain your amusement, “Look,” you said with a grin, your eyes fixated on the pool. The vibrant scene unfolded before you—children playing and swimming while adults engaged in animated conversations. 

Ellie turned around, following your gaze, and then turned her face back to yours, clearly not comprehending what you were referring to. “Look at what?” She found herself unable to resist the urge to question you again, the slight edge of irritation creeping into her voice, her patience wearing thin with each passing moment.

“Exactly—no one’s drowning.” You pointed to the lively pool, the laughter and chatter filling the air. Her gaze remained fixed on the scene before her, and her peripheral vision tracked you as you leaned in close to her. Your warm breath tickled the side of her neck, and she involuntarily shivered at the sensation. The auburnette froze in place, feeling your face mere inches away from her ear, “You’re not just a lifeguard. You’re whatever I want you to be,” you said, your voice a sinister hiss in her ear, each word dripping with venomous mockery. The corners of your mouth curled upwards into a prideful grin, your eyes gleaming with dark satisfaction as you reveled in your power over her. She fought the urge to wipe that irritating expression off your stupid face. You were extremely gorgeous but so insanely maddening at the same time.

She clenched her jaw in frustration, her gaze following you as you sauntered away to talk to an older woman who was a regular at the pool with her child. Her self-admonishment grew when she caught herself checking you out, her eyes taking in the softness of your thighs, hips, and the inviting roundness of your ass. She hated herself even more for her body’s instinctive reaction to such a vision, a mixture of conflicting emotions coursing through her.

4th Of July.

The day was oppressively hot, and the pool was more crowded than usual, adding to the chaos. Ellie constantly moved back and forth, attending to tasks she had not anticipated having to do. When she applied for the job, she had envisioned a laid-back role where she could relax, sit on her ass and move only when necessary. Cause the chances of anyone drowning in a pool were very low, let’s be realistic. Instead, you proved her wrong, forcing trusting her with responsibilities that didn’t belong on her shoulders.

What truly frustrated her was how you remained still, doing absolutely nothing, while constantly barking orders and yelling at everyone around you. It drove the green-eyed girl crazy to witness how effortlessly you directed others without lifting a finger yourself.

Ellie collected the empty beer cans two men had left on the black countertop, wiping sweat from her forehead with her other arm, baby hairs sticking to her damp skin. She couldn’t help but scoff as she observed you from a distance. You were near the pool, lounging casually on a towel with your arms propping you up behind your back, engaged in animated conversation with your friends. You giggled loudly every now and then, amused by the hurtful comments your friends made about people who remained blissfully unaware of their disdainful stares.

Judgmental snakes that acted as if no one could measure up to or surpass them. It absolutely infuriated her. She loathed how you and those kids seemed to effortlessly receive everything you desired on a silver platter, while average people like her had to labor relentlessly for anything she hoped to achieve in her life.

It wasn't actually the wealth itself that angered her; rather, it was the blatant arrogance and smugness you all displayed, as if being wealthy automatically made you superior individuals with no moral values or empathy for anyone else.

Nevertheless, you had stunned her with your choice of attire that day—a two-piece bikini that revealed your captivating figure. Despite feeling frustrated that she couldn't catch a break while you lounged around doing nothing, she couldn't help but admire your otherworldly physique. Yet, it was wrong to feel that way about a piece of shit like you.

“Glad someone’s keeping her busy,” Alexis’ voice acted like an invisible tug on Ellie's sleeve, pulling her back from her thoughts. The freckled girl shook her head as if trying to clear her mind and curiously responded with a quiet “hm?”

“Too busy shit-talking with her friends to be up our ass,” The honey-haired girl carefully adjusted her hair, tucking a stray piece of golden hair behind her pierced ear. Ellie couldn’t help but quietly chuckle at the girl’s remark, responding with a warm smile and a subtle bob of her head.

“Right? I don’t understand how they haven’t kicked her out yet; she does nothing all day!” she complained as the blonde behind the countertop meticulously cleaned up the spill on the sleek black marble surface, casting a quizzical gaze in her direction.

“Kick who out?”

“Y/N.” Ellie leaned her forearms on the countertop, her gaze locked onto her blue ones.

Alexis let out a scoff and gave her a look “Why would her father kick her out?” Ellie’s eyes widened in surprise, her voice strangled as she almost choked on the air she was breathing. The incredulity in her expression was palpable, a clear indication that she had no fucking clue.

“What’d you say?” She questioned tentatively, inwardly hoping that her ears were merely playing tricks on her. The disbelief in her voice was evident as she tried to make sense of the shocking revelation she had just heard.

“She owns this place—you didn’t know?” Alexis asked in disbelief, speaking as if the information were common knowledge, which made it all the more surprising that Ellie was unaware of it.

But given your wealthy background and how you carried yourself, it suddenly made perfect sense. Everything fell into place. Your commanding presence wasn't just a show of authority—you actually owned this entire establishment. You weren't striving to save money for some personal goal as Ellie had assumed; rather, you were here because your family had ownership over the pool, the spa nearby, and every other facility in this area.

“Dude, I had no fucking clue,” she uttered, flabbergasted, her emerald green eyes darting in your direction as a gentle breeze played with the soft, auburn strands of her hair, tickling her face. 

The freckled girl observed the scene unfolding before her, her eyes fixed on the tall, muscular guy approaching your small group, a golden retriever trotting loyally at his side. Despite his sunglasses, she could sense his gaze fixated on you, and when you stood up to greet him, she watched your lips move but couldn't discern any words. Her thoughts were interrupted by Alexis's rambling, but her attention quickly shifted back to you as the guy started to engage in conversation with you, her stomach twisting in a strange flutter of unease.

“Are dogs even allowed in here?” was the first thing Ellie grumbled, her irritation evident as she interrupted her friend's rambling monologue. It was clear that she wasn't really paying attention to what was being said, her mind preoccupied with other thoughts.

“Pshh—when I wanted to bring my dog in here, she said I couldn't.” Alexis huffed, passing a popsicle to the young boy who had approached and requested it. A small grin tugged at the corners of his mouth before storming off with his little brother. “Had to leave my Nana home with-” But Ellie wasn't having it. She was already storming towards you, her green eyes flashing with anger and determination. You had alwas doled out rules yet seemed to disregard them yourself. She didn't care if you owned the place and had the authority to do as you pleased. As far as she was concerned, you needed to adhere to the standards you had set, and she was determined to make that happen… and she wanted that guy gone. 

Your two friends remained laid out on their towels, one sipping on a cocktail and the other engaged in a gossip session, their conversation marked by animated gestures. However, as Ellie approached, they immediately took notice. This time, she paid no mind to their gazes, instead stomping up to stand just behind you, her arms crossed in a defensive stance. Meanwhile, you were oblivious to her presence, completely unaware of her lurking behind you.

You knelt down to give the guy's dog some attention, running your fingers through its soft fur and scratching behind its ears. You continued to pet the dog, a sweet smile gracing your lips, “Such a cute fuckin’ dog, aren’t ya?” Ellie listened as you let out a low chuckle, your voice dropping into a silly tone as you spoke to the dog. The pup seemed to perk up at your voice, tilting her head slightly to the side as you found the sweet spot behind her ear, causing her to lean into your touch and let out a soft whine. “Like owner, like dog.” You looked up at the guy, your voice taking on a more flirtatious tone than Ellie had ever heard you use before. Your eyes sparkled with a hint of innocence as you slowly stood back up.

The sleazy guy chuckled, a gravelly sound that echoed into Ellie's ears, threatening to make them bleed. It was incredible how, with just a hint of attention, you made him feel like he'd struck gold in a barren desert. You barely gave him the time of day, but that sliver of acknowledgment had him grinning like he’d just hit the jackpot. 

The boy’s eyes were glued to your chest, drooling over your perfect goddamn tits as if he'd discovered a hidden treasure in the most unexpected place. You were a twisted goddess of fortune, and he was more than happy to worship, soaking up every precious moment with a grin that said he’d do anything to stay in this heavenly hell. But all you needed was his weed, and while he was fantasizing about you, you were already thinking of dumping his ass when you didn't need him anymore. 

“What’s her name?” You flashed him a charming smile as you spoke, tilting your head slightly to one side as you looked up at him with a coy expression.

“Nelly,” He replied, pulling up his sunglasses, his brown eyes devouring every curve of your body without a hint of shame. He was eye-fucking you like it was just another day, and Ellie felt the bile rise in her throat. Men never ceased to amaze her; they were all disgusting, perverted assholes hiding behind a thin veil of chill and manners. What pissed her off even more was that you were letting it happen. You were into it. You reveled in the attention, loving every second of being liked, as if his filthy gaze was some kind of twisted validation. 

Was that what you needed? Validation?

Ellie decided to chime in, clearing her throat loudly. Your head snapped her way, surprise lighting up your sun-kissed features. Your carefully styled hair tumbling down your back—just one of the many things about you that baffled her. Why the hell would you spend time styling your hair every morning just to go to the pool? The heat and sweat would mess it up anyway. It was like trying to keep a snowman from melting in a sauna, completely pointless, but somehow, you did it every damn day.

“Dogs aren’t allowed.” The aburnette firmly stated, her words hanging in the air, drawing confused looks from you and the guy as if she were speaking a different language. But Ellie didn’t give a damn; she was just doing her job. Her mission was to keep everyone in line, making sure the rules were followed to the letter. That’s what your daddy was paying her for, right? 

You quickly brushed off her statement, returning your attention to the guy before you. “Nelly, huh?” you questioned with a wide smile, your eyes flicking to the dog patiently sitting at her owner’s feet. Her golden fur gleamed under the sunlight, her eyes a beautiful honey color. 

Ellie didn’t have anything against the dog; she loved dogs and had always wanted one. But that dude needed to fuck off. She couldn’t even put her finger on why she felt this way, so irritated and annoyed, like an itch she couldn’t scratch. The sight of you flirting with that douchebag made her blood boil, leaving her wondering why it all pissed her off so much.

“Just like my friend here.” You suddenly exclaimed, your fake, cheerful voice, cutting through the tense atmosphere and snapping Ellie out of her turbulent thoughts. 

“My name’s not—” she began, but you shut her off, waving a dismissive hand in her direction.

“Yeah, yeah. Nelly, Ellie… same thing,” you scoffed, your eyes still locked on the guy by the pool. “So I was saying…” Your voice dropped to a sultry whisper as you bit your lip, scanning him up and down, fingers gently tracing the contours of his strong arm. “I’ll see you tonight?”

“Yeah,” he murmured, eyes shamelessly glued to your cleavage, never quite making it to your face.

“Dogs aren’t—” Ellie tried again, her voice a persistent drone in the background.

“Don’t forget my stuff,” you whispered in his ear. You batted your lashes at him as you pulled back, your gaze locking with his. Ellie’s disgusted glare darted between you and him, her lips pressed into a tight line.

“I won’t. See you later?” 

“Hmm-hmm. See you later, handsome.” Your voice was honey-sweet, dripping with fake affection, and the guy seemed utterly spellbound, his eyes never straying from your body.

Ellie huffed loudly, the sound almost lost in the noise of the poolside chatter, and you turned to face her, annoyance flashing across your features. You reached for the expensive sunglasses dangling from your bikini top and slid them on with practiced ease.

“Jesus, Ellen, got nothing better to do?” you grumbled, your tone laced with irritation and disdain.

“Dogs aren’t allowed,” Ellie repeated, her voice steady but tinged with frustration. She stood there, arms crossed, an immovable wall of resolve.

“Are you done? Because you’re starting to behave like a bot. Maybe hanging out with Alexa over there is rubbing off on you,” you sneered, turning your back on her with a dismissive wave. You strolled back to your friends, who were whispering among themselves, their eyes darting towards Ellie with thinly veiled amusement.

She turned away, ready to resume her duties, but your voice, dripping with venom, sliced through her ears.

“Have you seen her?” one of your friends giggled, their voice a conspiratorial whisper.

“She’s so embarrassing, oh my god,” another chimed in, their laughter bubbling up like champagne.

“Embarrassing is an understatement,” you commented without missing a beat, your voice carrying a sharp edge. 

Ellie could feel the sting of your words, each one like a tiny drop of acid, smoldering away her already fragile self-esteem. She knew your cruel comments spared no one, yet hurt still bloomed in her chest, a dull ache that refused to fade. You loosed a laugh, a sound that blended sweet melody with sinister intent, leaving her captivated and repulsed. The echoes of your laugh, mingled with the cruel whispers of your friends, reverberated in her mind, morphing into a haunting, chilling soundtrack to her nightmares as she made her way back to her busy friend behind the counter.

“How’d it go?” Alexis questioned, her voice tinged with genuine concern as she handed Ellie a cup of sweetened tea. The blonde girl's eyes roamed across Ellie's face, taking in the tense, almost pained expression that twisted her features, preparing herself for the worst. 

“Amazing,” Ellie responded with a hefty helping of sarcasm, quickly downing the drink. She then slumped onto a stool at the bar, her elbows roughly digging into the cold, unyielding surface of the marble counter.

The shorter girl behind the bar chuckled softly, her laughter a soothing balm in the tense atmosphere. “You coming tonight?”

A look of perplexity etched on her face. The line marring her brow looked like a work of art that the blue-eyed friend couldn’t help but admire. “Coming where?”

“In your underwear—” Alexis deadpanned, before bursting into snorts of laughter at Ellie’s flushed cheeks, her reaction priceless. “To the party,” The silken strands of hair framing her face bounced as she spoke more seriously, her hands deftly collecting cups left by the sink, preparing to give them a proper wash.

“Party?”

“The whole staff is invited,” the blonde explained, her voice a melodic mix of excitement and mischief. “But no annoying kids around; The Bitch said we can use the pool.” Ellie couldn’t help but let out a small, crooked smile of her own at the name her friend had bestowed upon you. “You should come, Ellie. It’ll be fun,” Her voice was full of genuine enthusiasm as she scrubbed the cups with vigor, the water splashing slightly.

The redhead shrugged, still feeling the sting of your earlier words. “I don’t know, Lex. I’m not really in the mood.” Truth was that she didn’t want to spend a second more around you, especially outside work.

Alexis paused, her hands resting on the edge of the sink, eyes locking onto her friend’s. “Hey, don’t let her get to you. She’s just... Well, you know how she is. Come to the party, have some fun.”

She sighed again, the tension slowly easing from her shoulders. “Maybe. We’ll see.”

“Atta girl,” she grinned, resuming her task with renewed energy. “Trust me, you’ll feel better after a few drinks and a good swim.”

Ellie chuckled softly, the corners of her lips twitching upwards. Maybe Alexis was right. Maybe a night of fun was exactly what she needed to shake off the day’s negativity. The thought of the party, with its promise of laughter and freedom, was a small but welcome spark of light in the otherwise dark cloud of her thoughts. She sure as hell wasn’t going to let you ruin her day.

4th of July, The evening.

Ellie despised parties and loathed crowds even more, as they left her feeling left out and isolated in an unfamiliar environment. She longed to escape back to the comfort of her home, but that choice was unfortunately not an option for her tonight. The pale girl ended up giving in because of Dina and Alexis, who insisted so much that Ellie finally relented. She was almost physically dragged to the same pool where she worked, but this time for a different reason. It was to have fun and actually enjoy the pool, something she rarely did.

The pool was enormous, the kind that looked like only the wealthy could access, but luckily, it wasn’t expensive to spend a weekend there. The pool area was beautifully maintained, with lush greenery and elegant lounge chairs neatly arranged around the perimeter. It was a stark contrast to Ellie’s usual experience of scanning the water for trouble and scolding unruly kids.

She was almost happy to be there to enjoy some fresh air and lounge by the pool instead of acting like a barista and waitress—a job she had not signed up for. The redhead took a deep breath, feeling the warm sun on her skin, watching the water sparkle under the midday sun, inviting and cool. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. The air was filled with the scent of sunscreen and chlorine, a familiar but somehow more pleasant combination today.

The group of friends settled into their lounge chairs, and Ellie let herself relax, her freckled shoulders sinking into the cushioned seat. For once, she didn’t have to worry about keeping an eye on everyone. She could just be a regular person enjoying a day by the pool.

The afternoon slowly turned to evening as the group passed around drinks and joints, creating a relaxed atmosphere. Ellie sat at the pool's edge, letting her feet dangle in the cool water, engrossed in a lively conversation with Dina and Alexis, who were seated beside her. The setting sun painted the sky with a golden hue, casting a warm glow over them. 

She had only taken a few hits off her joint, and already, she couldn’t focus on anything but your thighs. The way those shorts hugged your hips and left the soft skin of your thighs exposed for everyone to see was simply captivating. They looked as soft as silk. You wore nothing on top but a black bikini, your crop top on one of the empty lounge chairs nearby. 

All noise—the incessant chattering of her friends and random people you had invited—faded into the background. You were the only thing that mattered. The way you moved, talked, and gave that stupid jerk sitting by your side a charming grin that surely made him believe he somehow stood a chance drove Ellie crazy. 

What a dick, she thought to herself. 

Ellie’s friends continued to talk and laugh, oblivious to her inner turmoil. Her eyes flickered to her friends and then back to you. You passed a joint to Ryan, who took it eagerly, his eyes glued to your face for once.

It was as clear as day that Ryan wanted to fuck you right there and then. Ellie recognized the look in his eyes; it was the same one she had whenever she looked at you—or so Dina claimed. But you were so hypnotizing. The way your plush wet lips wrapped around the joint, taking big hits like it was nothing—no coughing, no hesitation. It wasn’t your first time.

Ellie observed the brown-eyed boy attentively, almost maniacally, noting how his eyes never left your tits. And how you didn’t seem to mind. You almost seemed at ease with the knowledge of being liked, desired. That also meant free weed for everyone. She watched you laugh, the sound like a siren call that cut through the buzz around her. The besotten girl couldn't tear her eyes away from the way your hair fell over your shoulders, catching the last light of the setting sun, giving you an almost angelic glow. You seemed so comfortable, so effortlessly part of this world of social interactions and causal flirtations. You wore your confidence like a second skin, and Ellie found herself drawn to it, like a moth who gravitated towards danger without second thought.

Seeing Ryan, who sat next to you, soaking up your attention, caused a pang of jealousy to hit Ellie. She longed to be the person who held all of your attention, but instead, she was just an outsider looking in. 

The evening air grew cooler, but Ellie hardly noticed, her focus remained solely fixed on you. The world around her seemed to blur, and all she could see was the curve of your lips, the softness of your skin, the sparkle in your eyes. She took another drag from her joint, trying to calm her racing heart. The weed did little to dull her intense focus on you. If anything, it sharpened her awareness of every detail, every movement. Although she yearned to be closer to you, she knew it was never going to happen, not even in a million years, and this awareness only fueled her inability to look away. So, all she could do was watch, caught in the spell you had casted over her against her will.

Ellie felt her throat go dry, as if suddenly all the water on the planet had evaporated, leaving her parched. It was only when Alexis nudged her that she snapped out of her trance, her red, half-lidded eyes refocusing on the blonde girl beside her. Alexis was too close, causing Ellie to shift uncomfortably, creating some distance.

Why was she focusing on you anyway? Alexis had been by her side the whole night, trying to talk to her and being overall extremely nice. But for some reason, it felt like getting a taste of something that was missing salt; it was flavorless. Alexis was sweet and nice—they even liked the same things, for God’s sake. A girl who liked the same comics as her? It was almost a canon event. But, of course, fate had other plans for Ellie because she wasn’t interested in Alexis. In fact, she found her presence almost… annoying. She mentally kicked herself for even thinking of Alexis that way. She was such a kind girl, just trying to be friends—maybe more—but Ellie couldn’t care less.

She knew it was ridiculous, this unrequited fascination with you. Yet, she couldn’t help herself. You were like a star, dazzling and distant, while Alexis, kind and warm, was like a candle—close and comforting but not enough to hold Ellie’s attention.

Ellie wanted to desperately feel something for Alexis, to reciprocate her kindness and interest, but it felt forced. She sighed, running a hand through her messy auburn hair. It was in moments like these she realized how messed up she was for always chasing people who couldn’t care less about her. She felt a pang of guilt for not appreciating Alexis, who was right there, trying her best to connect while her thoughts constantly drifted back to you. You were like a magnet, pulling her attention away from everything and everyone else.

She couldn't exactly recall how they all ended up disgustingly high, sitting in a circle and playing a stupid game of truth or dare like high schoolers. It was such a childish game, but here they were. Her eyes were fixed on the bottle as if her life depended on it, and when it landed on you, she started praying in every language she knew—though her repertoire was limited to English, and she didn't even know how to pray.

The auburnette had never been particularly religious; she didn’t even believe in luck or fate. She wasn’t sure what she believed in, preferring things she could see, things that were scientifically proven. So she didn’t know what the hell she was doing, always praying and hoping that you’d talk to her, act differently, maybe even like her. You were just you, and no amount of mental manifestation seemed enough for you to actually see her.

It was bullshit. It was even more bullshit when the bottle landed on that stupid guy who had been thirsting over you the entire night, practically drooling over your body. Ellie couldn’t look away, not even when the kiss turned into a full-blown make-out session right in front of everyone—right in front of her. His callous and hungry hands pulled you close, letting them roam over your body, your ass, your waist, while you wrapped your arms around his neck.

The sight of his hands exploring your body, of your lips moving against his with such abandon, was almost too much to bear. The green-eyed girl glanced around the circle, noting the mix of reactions—some amused, some awkwardly averting their gaze. But Ellie’s eyes were drawn back to you, unable to tear herself away from the sight of your bodies intertwined. His hands caressed the bare skin of your back, and Ellie felt a pang of envy so sharp it was almost physical. The makeout session seemed to stretch on forever, and once it was over, it kept replaying like a broken record in her sick mind, an agonizing reminder of what she couldn’t have. 

The green bottle spun on the mosaic again and again, its movements blending into a rapid blur on the floor. Ellie sat there, though completely absent; she felt as if she were a million miles away, her surroundings slowly fading into an enveloping fog, the Silent Hill kind.

Jesse nudged her gently, his voice breaking through her thoughts in a friendly but insistent manner. “Dude, you with us?” His words jolted her back to reality, piercing through the haze that had enveloped her mind. She blinked, her eyes snapping to his dark chocolate pools.

Following his gaze to the floor, her eyes landed on the bottle, its neck pointing directly at her. A fleeting moment of surprise flickered across her face, her heart skipping a beat as she realized she was the chosen one.

The word “Dare” burst out of her mouth before she could even process what she was saying. Immediately, she regretted it; the cinnamon-haired girl wasn’t exactly as gutsy as she sometimes pretended to be. 

And as fate would have it, the bottle’s spin ended on the very person she least wanted it to. Alexis.

Her scarred eyebrows pinched together in a disappointed frown, an unexpected dryness creeping into her mouth. With sluggish movements that felt almost like wading through molasses, Ellie slowly turned to face the girl beside her, the moonlight casting a soft glow over her blonde locks. Alexis's eyes sparkled with mischief, her lips curving into a wide grin as she scooted closer. Ellie remained rooted to her spot, frozen in place, unable to bring herself to move.

Ellie failed to notice that your gaze, as cold and piercing as ice, was fixed on her with persistent intensity. Your eyes narrowed slightly, a flicker of annoyance shadowing your features. 

Both girls knelt face to face, and Alexis quickly placed her hand on her waist and leaned in eagerly for a kiss. However, just as their lips met, Ellie pulled away and gave her just a gentle peck. A collective boooo rang out from the surrounding crowd, expressing their disapproval at the briefness of the kiss.

Their eyes met, Alexis' blue eyes locking with hers, holding a hint of confusion. The group around them kept urging them to kiss properly, their voices chanting and encouraging them to go further. When her gaze shifted to the crowd, Ellie's gaze inadvertently locked with yours for a moment. Your eyes were fixated on her with a harsh, almost murderous glare, as if you wanted to rip her apart that very instant.

“Kiss, kiss, kiss,”

“Ohhh come on! We want a proper kiss!”

“I love lesbian porn.”

“Is lesbian porn even real?”

When Ellie broke eye contact and turned back to the golden-haired girl before her, she saw a look of remorse plastered on her face, as if she feared she had crossed a boundary. “We don't have-” But before she could finish her sentence, Ellie silenced her by pressing their lips together in a passionate kiss. Hovering over her, she gripped her by the waist, pulling her closer. Despite her efforts, though, kissing her felt almost nausea-inducing.

You didn't look away. Every second of Ellie and Alexis’ kiss was captured in the harsh, judgmental glare of your eyes. There was something almost perverse in how you watched, a blend of disgust and fascination twisting your expression. Ellie remained completely unaware of your intense observation, failing to notice the envy in your gaze and the deep-seated jealousy that gripped your stomach. Even if the redhead had detected your jealousy, she would have dismissed it as sheer animosity, failing to recognize the depth of your emotions. Just like she always did.

As the kiss ended, a huge, dumbstruck grin spread across her friend’s face, her eyes sparkling with joy like the myriad stars above them. Her cheeks were flushed, and she was slightly out of breath, clearly enjoying the moment. Ellie, on the other hand, had a look of regret and shock on her face, almost as if she was questioning every decision she had ever made in her life, a look that the blonde didn’t seem to catch on.

Ellie found it increasingly difficult to focus on the mindless dares and ridiculous questions being thrown around, her brain enveloped in a cloud of weed-induced haze. The substance in her system had relaxed her muscles to the extent that she felt like she was constantly on the verge of having an ‘accident.’

“I feel like I’m gonna piss myself—Did I piss myself?” Ellie mumbled softly into Dina’s ear, her words barely audible. Dina's dark eyes darted toward her friend’s lap, discreetly scanning for any signs of wet spots on her shorts, but there was nothing. In response, she shook her head while offering Ellie a small, sympathetic shrug and a lopsided smile that conveyed reassurance, her sleek ponytail swaying gracefully with the movement.

“You’re good,” her speech was slightly slurred, her words stumbling over each other as if she was struggling to articulate.

“Feels like my bladder gave up on me,” she grumbled, the damp spot in her boxers growing increasingly irritating. She harbored an unstoppable belief that she had, in fact, peed herself. The thought was persistent, a nagging paranoia that refused to go away no matter how much her friend had reassured her otherwise.

Dina’s perfectly shaped arches furrowed as she attempted to make sense of Ellie's slowed-down speech. The combination of alcohol and weed was a little too much for Dina to handle, as she struggled to comprehend what Ellie was saying. Thankfully, her boyfriend, who was much more sober, was there to keep a watchful eye on her. “Why aren’t you wearing a diaper?” she casually inquired, as if the redhead sitting beside her had worn them before.

“Uh, no? Why would I?” Ellie mimicked Dina’s confused expression.

“Don’t you, usually?” Her face was a portrait of genuine puzzlement.

Her auburn eyebrows drew together in puzzled bewilderment as she mulled over Dina’s query for a second or two, as if she didn’t quite know the answer herself. She started to respond, “Isn’t it too soon t—” but her words trailed off, replaced by an exasperated sigh. “Be right back,” she whispered, realizing it was futile to try talking to her friend, who was as high as gas prices.

The haze of weed and alcohol made everything feel surreal, like she was wading through a thick fog. Ellie’s mind was a chaotic mess, each thought bumping into the next. She stood up, her surroundings swaying slightly as she made her way to the back of the bar, walking around it. Even though she had worked there for quite some time and had likely been aware of the door behind the counters that led to the back of the building all along, she still decided to act like a mindless artificial intelligence bot instead. 

You watched Ellie attentively, your eyes trailing her every move. The perfect excuse to get up from the circle was getting more beer. Ryan, ever eager, immediately offered to help, seizing the opportunity to be alone with you. 

But God, who the fuck wanted his disgusting hands all over you?

Ryan was a means to an end, nothing more. You needed him for the weed, and you planned to ghost him the second you didn’t need him anymore. Weed was weed, and you’d do anything for free joints, spinning promises you had no intention of keeping. But guilt? That was a foreign concept to you. Playing people was your specialty: using them, manipulating them, treating men like him like obedient, panting pups. They were so eager, so desperate for your attention, that they'd leap at the chance to please you, dancing to your every whim. You took delight in their stupidity, toying with them to your liking. It was all fun until you got bored; then you’d dump them without a second thought, leaving them to wonder what they did wrong. 

They were all the same. No one ever stood out to you; each encounter a cold calculation. Men like Ryan were just pawns, easily replaceable, utterly expendable, tools to be used and discarded. You enjoyed the control, how they bent to your will, the thrill of watching them scramble for your approval.

Your mind, slightly hazy from the weed and alcohol, felt both razor-sharp and wonderfully numb. You didn’t exactly know what you were thinking as your hand hovered hesitantly over the doorknob leading to the back of the bar. You looked over your shoulder to ensure no one saw you slip through the door.

You stepped out just as Ellie stumbled out of the bathroom, her movements faltering briefly when she laid eyes on you. While in the bathroom, she realized that she wasn’t going to piss herself; she was just fucking horny from all the weed she had smoked—it always had that effect on her—and seeing you made the effects even worse. Her green eyes widened for a moment, resembling a cat's eyes caught in the headlights rather than those of a deer. However, she swiftly recomposed herself, continuing to walk without acknowledging your presence. As if you didn't exist, as if she couldn't see you.

“Hey,” You called out, your voice cutting through the damp night air, but Ellie ignored you. Her steps quickened as she walked past you, her gaze fixed ahead as if you were a mere ghost haunting her path. Conversations between you two had never been normal. She was high as hell and enjoying herself for once; the last thing she wanted was another night ruined by your incessant arguing and your inability to grasp the concept of kindness. With determined steps, Ellie headed for the door that led inside the bar, your eyes lingering on the intricate tattoo on her forearm, which reached for the handle with purpose.

Just as Ellie’s fingers glided over the cold metal, your hand grasped her other arm forcefully, the strength surprising even yourself. With a sudden, harsh move, you slammed her against the wall. “What the fuu-” she cursed under her breath as she flinched at the sudden impact of her back against the brick wall, but you abruptly silenced her. You detested being ignored more than anything else. You were accustomed to always receiving attention, with people hanging on your every word and making you the focus of their world. The sensation of being ignored felt completely alien to you.

“I said hey,” You repeated, this time your voice was harsher. Ellie’s eyes, a mesmerizing shade of green, seemed to sparkle in the moonlight, resembling glistening emeralds. Her dilated pupils looked like deep black voids that threatened to swallow you whole. Despite the visible signs of confusion and irritation on her face, an unmistakable sense of intrigue emanated from her, one that didn't go unnoticed by you, and a sly smirk played at the corner of your lips in response.

“Yeah, I’ve heard you.” She retorted, annoyed and sarcastic, though her voice was quiet, barely more than a whisper.

“Yeah? Didn’t seem like it,” you quipped, flashing a mischievous smile as you leaned closer, effectively trapping her against the wall. Your body hovered over hers, your arm positioned menacingly next to her head, the gap between you growing increasingly smaller. Ellie felt a lump form in her throat as she swallowed nervously, her heart pounding so hard it felt like it might burst out of her chest. Her hands trembled at the sudden proximity, and her breath caught in her throat. She leaned against the wall, her body flattened as if trying to put as much space as she could between the two of you by melding into it. The distance between you had never been this small, your body practically looming over hers, encasing her against the wall. Her mind spun as your scent filled her nostrils, a dizzying mix of musk and something else that drove her insane; pheromones, perhaps? “What, you ignoring me now?” 

“No, ‘m no-”

“Yes, you are,” Your intense gaze made her skin tingle, as if deciphering her every thought and emotion swirling in her mind, “Don’t you wanna talk to me?” Your voice took on an innocent, almost petulant tone as you pouted, sticking out your lower lip and batting your eyelashes at her. 

The dim light cast long shadows, dancing across the rough brick wall. The scent of sweat, alcohol, weed, and something else—something electric—filled the space between you. 

“I don’t wanna argue,” the aburnette immediately replied, sighing as if to release the tension that had been building up in her system only due to your closeness. It was crazy how much power you had over her despite her trying to convince herself that she despised you because of your ugly attitude.

“Oh, baby, I don't wanna fight either.” Ellie's heart raced as she struggled to process the pet name that effortlessly rolled off your tongue. Her eyes frantically scanned her surroundings, longing for an exit that simply wasn't there. She could have easily distanced herself from you, pushed you away even, but she found herself drawn to the attention and the intimacy, both captivated and unsettled by the closeness. The warmth emanating from your body enveloped her, and the sheer force of your presence overwhelmed her senses. As her pulse quickened, the rhythm of each beat echoed loudly in her ears. Just as Ellie started to gather her thoughts, you gently lifted her chin, compelling her to meet your gaze. A delicate auburn strand of hair fell across her face, “Did you like it?” you suddenly interrogated her, reaching out to gently tuck the stray strand behind her ear.

“Like what?” she questioned back, her brow furrowed in confusion. Her voice sounded weak, and you could sense how your words made her feel small, even though it had nothing to do with height.

“The kiss—is she a good kisser?” your gaze fixed on her lips as your thumb traced a gentle path over her bottom lip.

Ellie let out a disapproving tsk as she pulled her face out of your grasp, causing your hand to drop limply to your side. “Why do you care?” Her question prompted you to glance back into her eyes. She was surprised by the intense yet gentle expression on your face. For once, you weren’t shouting at her, teasing her, or being a bitch.

“‘Cause I think you could do so much better,”

She couldn't fathom the words you were speaking or understand why you were studying her every detail as if inspecting a precious work of art, gazing at her as if she were a masterpiece rather than an inferior being. It made the freckled girl’s stomach twist with excitement and nervousness. A blush crept across her star-speckled cheeks as your eyes found their way back to her lips, and she unconsciously ran her tongue over them. It was at that moment that you leaned in, pressing your plump lips against hers in a hungry, demanding kiss.

As your lips met hers, Ellie felt like she was about to dissolve into a puddle. The texture of your lips was indescribably soft, almost as if they were crafted specifically for her. Initially, she was too stunned to reciprocate the kiss; her eyes widened in shock, resembling those of a startled cat thrown in a bathtub. Her breath hitched, and for a moment, it felt as though her heart had ceased to beat; she was certain that if a doctor had measured her pulse at that instant, they would have deemed her deceased.

It took her a few moments to process the reality of the situation. The girl she had been pining over for ages—and that also made her life miserable—was kissing her. She couldn't be certain whether it was the effect of the weed she had consumed—perhaps she had blacked out in the bathroom, and all of this was simply a figment of her imagination—but as soon as Ellie felt your gentle hands drawing her in closer by the waist, she was certain that it was all too real.

She could feel your heartbeat, the heat emanating off your skin, your lips moving against hers. It was like stepping into a new world where everything was heightened and vivid. Your lips, soft and inviting, moved with a grace that left the green-eyed girl breathless. She felt like she was floating, untethered from reality, anchored only by the warmth of your touch. It felt right.

Ellie’s mind raced, thoughts colliding in a frenzy of disbelief and euphoria. How could this be happening? She had spent countless nights dreaming of this moment, and now it was unfolding before her.

Slowly, Ellie’s initial shock faded away, replaced by a surge of boldness. She began to kiss you back, tentatively at first, then with increasing confidence. Her pale hands gripped your face, pulling you impossibly closer, their touch greedy and desperate. She tried to push you off, to reverse the roles, but you pushed her right back against the wall, pinning her in place. Both of you craved control, the conflict only adding to the intensity of your interactions. Neither of you was willing to give up easily, the power play making everything so intoxicating. Ellie sought to put you in your place, to dominate you for once, while you had another fantasy in mind—to see her writhing and squirming under your touch, completely submitted to you. 

Her kisses were fierce and hungry, as if she hadn't tasted anything in days, and you were her first meal. Your lips muffled every delightful sound that escaped her, only serving to make you smile. Her hands tugged at any piece of fabric they could reach—the loops of your shorts, the laces of your bikini—as if trying to bring you even closer. She wanted you desperately, and you knew it. 

You had always known. When you weren't looking, Ellie had been looking. Her fern-green gaze would devour your exposed skin at the pool, filled with an intensity that could not be ignored.

The confirmation that it wasn't just a one-sided desire made you feel all giddy. From the moment she had accidentally bumped into you on the first day of college, you had wanted her. When summer approached and the prospect of more time away from your judgmental friends became a reality, you saw an opportunity. You asked Dina to help recruit more employees, promising her a slight raise in pay. Despite the plan being less than fool-proof and unlikely to succeed, it somehow unfolded exactly how you hoped it would.

Ellie’s breaths came in ragged gasps between the kisses, each one deepening the connection, fueling the fire between you. You could feel her trembling, the tension in her body creating a delightful contrast with the softness of her skin under your touch. Your hands traced the contours of her waist and the subtle dip of her back. Each touch sent a shiver through her, her body responding to your every caress as if it had been waiting for this moment, craving your touch. Her hands emulated your movements, exploring every inch of your body as if she were attempting to commit each curve and line to memory.

You pressed your thigh between her legs, and you swore you could feel the heat of her cunt through the fabric. Ellie’s response was immediate, a moan that vibrated against your mouth as her hips rocked against you in an involuntary, desperate attempt to find friction. The feminine urge to push her further, to test her limits, to make her beg for more almost overwhelmed you.

But Ellie refused to surrender, kissing you harder, more urgently, trying to take control. Her hands found their way to your hair, pulling you closer, her nails slightly scraping your scalp in a way that was both painful and pleasurable, eliciting a moan from you. But you stood your ground, pushing back, your hands gripping her hips tightly, keeping her in place.

You broke the kiss to trail your lips along her jawline and neck, the movement eliciting a gasp of pleasure from her. She leaned her head back against the wall, breathing heavily and unevenly as your hand slipped beneath her white T-shirt. You felt the muscles of her abdomen contract under your touch.

You were almost certain you had never seen her with her shirt off, not even when she was working. She always wore T-shirts and those red, men's style swim trunks when working. Perhaps you had caught a glimpse of her in a sports bra a time or two, but certainly never any more than that. You couldn't understand why Ellie hid so much. If only she could see herself; she was legitimately beautiful, her body toned and strong. But you could never tell under those slightly baggy shirts she always wore. 

Your hand pulled the hem of her shirt up to expose her abdomen as you knelt down, your mouth moving over her stomach, kissing and nipping at the sensitive skin, eliciting exaggerated gasps and shudders from her, as if her body had never received the right attention before. 

But as your fingers grazed the waistband of her cargo pants, Ellie suddenly snapped out of her trance, realizing that you were out in the open and at risk of being caught. Her hand pressed against your shoulder, trying to push you away and stop you. You looked up at her, meeting her gaze, her eyes wide and dark and her pupils dilated with desire and tinged with fear. 

“W-we can’t, not here,” Her voice trembled as she spoke, barely above a whisper. Your head tilted, your eyes wide and innocent, your lashes almost touching your brows. Disappointment etched itself across your face, your forehead wrinkled in a frown so adorable that it made it even more difficult for her to deny you. Your expression conveyed a sense of need, of vulnerability, like you were completely dependent on her and needed her. It tugged at Ellie’s heartstrings, making her want to give in immediately.

“No one will see us,” You tried to reassure her, your fingers toying with the waistband of her shorts, but she intercepted your hands, stopping you once more. You huffed in frustration, your gaze flickering to the restroom on your left, then back to her face, hoping she would catch the hint. 

Several minutes later, Ellie found herself perched on the toilet seat, legs spread wide with you kneeling in front of her. The white fabric of her shirt was trapped between her teeth, her desperate attempt to muffle her soft moans proving futile. Ellie’s cheeks were flushed, and the scattered freckles that dusted her damp skin stood out vividly against the pink hue. Her brows were scrunched in pleasure and concentration; her eyes rolled to the back of her cranium before squeezing them shut, trying to chase her third orgasm already.

The sight of Ellie’s sports bra peeking from underneath her shirt and her tensed, toned abs had you drooling all over her pussy. You stared at the aburn-haired girl almost in a trance, captivated by her body as if she were your muse. Her abs were like a sculptor’s masterpiece. Your eyes traced the outline of her bra, the way it clung to her, wishing you could take it off, but you were too impatient to feel her cumming in your mouth again to do that, and you sure as hell weren't going to pull away. Maybe another time.

You could sense every fiber of her being, her body speaking a language you were fluent in that told you exactly what she craved. Your tongue, a delicate pink ribbon, traced her sopping slit with deliberate care, teasing, tasting, before zeroing in on that needy bundle of nerves that demanded your attention, a stifled whine escaping her mouth. Her moans grew louder, each one urging you on.

You devoured Ellie’s saccharine essence like a starved beast, your eyes locked onto her with the intensity of a tiger stalking its prey. Her expressions, a symphony of pleasure and desperation, were a masterpiece you couldn't look away from, your gaze drinking in every nuance of her expression, reveling in her artistry. And it was all for you. The mere thought of that made your cunt twitch in your bikini, which was now completely soaked; its sleek black fabric covered by translucent honey—not for everyone to see.

You danced between flicks of your tongue and alternating gentle, then demanding sucks. Ellie’s clit pulsed wildly in your mouth, her juices anointing your chin like a sacred nectar. She was the best thing you had ever had, not that you would ever admit it out loud to her.

Ellie’s moans were music to your ears, fucking divine, a soundtrack that was most likely going to play at the back of your mind while pleasuring yourself later on whenever you'd go back home. One of her thighs draped over your shoulder, her leg a soft but firm anchor as you wrapped your arm under the other, pulling her closer. Her taste, her very essence, was all-consuming, and you couldn’t get enough. 

Ellie’s teeth finally released the white fabric of her shirt, allowing it to fall back over her toned stomach, her lips swollen and a dazed look in her eyes. “G’na... fuuuuck…” she stammered, the words tumbling out in a deliciously incoherent mix of pleasure and haze, her mind too foggy to form a coherent thought. Ellie was completely lost in every flick of your tongue and every hungry suck on her swollen clit. 

You smirked against her, slapping the side of her thigh harshly, right over the pink imprint of your hand already etched into her skin. The sting made her whimper and jerk away from your mouth, but your grip on her thigh brought her back where she belonged. You had made a mess of the green-eyed girl, and stopping was the last thing on your mind, especially with her third orgasm looming. 

You were just getting started.

You hummed into her, the vibrations drawing little gasps from Ellie's mouth. You didn't stop. Even when her body couldn't take it anymore and silently pleaded for you to let go, you kept going, taking everything you could from her. Your tongue and lips were relentless, sucking harshly as she squirmed on the white toilet seat, trying weakly to push you away. Her hand at the top of your head was a feeble attempt to escape and move you away from her core, slow you down perhaps, but you didn't budge.

Ellie cried out, her voice breaking into whines as if she were on the verge of tears, your relentless moans against her clit only pushing her further. Despite her desperate warnings that she couldn’t take any more, you didn't stop until a warm flush sprayed against your face, making you pull away instinctively.

The thunderous booms and crackles of the fireworks outside were deafening, drowning out her loud cries and whimpers. Each burst of color and light in the sky timed up perfectly with the waves of ecstasy coursing through her body.

Ellie’s body trembled, her muscles twitching in the aftermath. You looked up at her, eyes glazed with satisfaction, licking your lips and savoring her taste. She was a beautiful wreck, panting heavily, her chest heaving with each breath.

“Did you just—” You glanced down at the glistening pool of her juices on the bathroom floor, eyes lingering on the sight for a moment before looking back up at her. Her cheeks were flushed a deep, rosy red, her body still trembling from the aftershocks of her orgasm. She exhaled shakily, the color on her face intensifying as embarrassment crept in. 

The thin layer of sweat on Ellie’s forehead caused her baby hairs to cling to her skin, sticking to the sides of her face. You pulled back, running the back of your hand over your mouth and chin, wiping away the slick evidence from your face. 

“Yeah,” she gasped, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath.

“Didn’t think you were a squirter,” you snorted, your hand coming up to gently stroke her thigh as she sat up on the toilet seat.

“Me neither,” Ellie admitted, her response causing your eyebrows to shoot up in surprise. A sense of satisfaction and pride filled your chest, knowing you were the one who had drawn that intense orgasm from her. As your eyes met, a giggle of contentment escaped your lips.

But the intimacy was suddenly interrupted by a sharp knock on the door. Both of you tensed up, eyes widening in alarm at the unexpected disturbance.

“Ellie? You in there?” Dina's voice cut through the heavy atmosphere, her once-slurred words sounding slightly more coherent, likely due to Jesse's intervention in getting her to sober up. The sound of her words was a sudden disturbance, like a splash of cold water that jerked you and Ellie back to reality. You exchanged a hesitant look, both of you struggling to collect yourselves and regain composure

She hastily put her boxers and pants back on, scrambling to get dressed and compose herself. “Yeah, just give me a minute,” she called out hurriedly to Dina, her heart still racing from the recent encounter and the fear of getting caught.

Dina's voice sounded more concerned now, the sound of her trying to open the door sending a jolt of panic through Ellie. “Everything okay?” she asked. “Jesse and I are about to leave.”

“Yeah, shit,” Ellie muttered curses under her breath as you helped her tidy up, both of you scrambling to look presentable. She darted to the sink to clean her face, her voice trembling with nervousness as she lied to Dina, cursing the weed and blaming it for her nausea. Meanwhile, Dina stood outside the bathroom, her ear pressed against the door as she listened intently to the movement and sounds coming from inside.

She tried to open the door again, her interest piqued by the sounds of whispering and rustling coming from inside. “You okay?” she pried. The doorknob rattled loudly, but fortunately, you had secured the door earlier, preventing any potential intrusion. “Need me to come in?”

Ellie’s response was hurried and slightly panicked as she said, “No, no! I’m good, I’m good.” A short while later, the door opened, and a slightly disheveled Ellie emerged with a wide smile, approaching Dina, who looked puzzled and somewhat intoxicated. With her arms crossed, Dina scrutinized her best friend’s appearance, struggling to form a coherent thought.

“Are you okay?” the honey-eyed girl inquired, giving Ellie a once-over and attempting to peek behind her. But she promptly blocked her path.

“I’m feeling fantastic,” Ellie exclaimed with a wide grin, breezing past Dina and narrowly avoiding a collision as she gently guided her away from the doorway. With a quick flick of her wrist, she securely locked the door behind her. “Are you all set to head out?” she asked eagerly, striding off as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred, trying to leave the situation behind her.

You heard Dina's footsteps fading into the summer night alive with the sounds of crickets, fireworks, and distant laughter; you let out a long, deep sigh of relief, feeling the cool tiles against your bare back, gradually easing away the tension and anxiety that had built up. 

As you stepped out of the bathroom, the bar’s dim lighting and background chatter enveloped you once more. You spotted Ellie and Dina near the exit, Dina’s arm around Ellie’s shoulders as they prepared to leave. Ellie glanced back at you, a secretive smile playing on her lips, and you knew that this night had changed everything.

[mondaymelon]

₊⊹ … 99% NOT LOVE ! | kinich x gn!reader

— in which two people notice what two people don't .

— i've gone absolutely batshit over him your honour. im going to now start writing for kinich like a crazed man dying of thirst in the desert. let it be known that streamer!au kinich, enemies to lovers with poacher mc and other ideas are coming up (no im not cheating on xiao shush)

mualani notices it.

"hehe."

and you hear it.

"so! there's a little..." she stares at you with the most serious face you've ever seen on the girl, acting suspiciously unlike herself. gesturing at you with exaggerated hand movements, then pointing toward who knows where, she eyes you. mischievously. "something that's 'going on', yea?"

and at first, you have absolutely no clue what she could be referring to. mualani is a sociable person, after all. her definition of "something" could range anywhere between a particularly cute baby saurian to an out-of-control-bonfire turned wildfire.

with the only eventful thing today being a brief morning surf session with sharky, you just sat there, never having felt more lost.

mualani grabs your shoulders in an iron grip, leaning forward to the point she's almost beginning to seem menacing. you can see the moment where she tries to think over something (which she never does quite successfully) before she straight up shouts:

"ah!! i'll just spell it out for you!! you. and kinich. bestie. spill."

.

.

.

ajaw did more than just "notice" it.

"you..! kIINICH, did you seriously have to-"

"noisy."

"selfish assh- ALMIGHTY DRAGONLORD K'UHUL AJAW HAS HAD ENOUGH OF THE DISRESPECT! TIME AND TIME AGAIN, yOU'VE-"

"once again, ajaw. be quiet."

"sure sure, and pretend i didn't see you and that someone do a little smoochy-smooch, huh?! UGH, now you've asked for it- KINICH AND LOVEY DOVEY, SITTIN' IN A TREE, K-I-S-S-I-N-"

ajaw was what you would call a "witness". though, most would use that term in regards to one seeing a crime or heinous event take place — this event was nothing of that nature.

well, as far as kinich was concerned, the matter was simple. you'd ventured all the way to scions of the canopy to give him a gift, (claiming it was for the time he'd helped you after a couple of yumkausarus hadn't enjoyed your fruit offering and instead decided to off you), and he'd refused to accept it. he wasn't one to receive reimbursement for others, and he didn't particularly like talking either — it was a well-known fact, almost law in natlan, that if the malipo ignored your words, all you need do was apologize and continue on.

well, you did exactly the opposite.

"no thanks."

"...sorry?"

"i don't need it."

"haha, so 'malipo' kinich's rumored no-nonsense nature really proved to be true! now come over here so i can give you my fucking gift!"

you were rather adamant about giving it to him. the reason? you'd bought the gift on a whim after seeing it being sold by a passing merchant, advertised as "80% only today if you buy within the next like 4 minutes" and you'd immediately dropped every mora you had. it was the most useless little thing ever, and you didn't want it at this point, but.. the deals. how could you return such an item???

naturally, you handed it off to the man you'd seen for a good two minutes before he flew, or did whatever his thing was, away. the man had remembered furrowing his brows the slightest, listening to ajaw's persistent yellings of "IT'S AN OFFERING TO ME, TAKE IT" and feeling an oncoming headache. "i said i didn't.."

as he turned to walk away, three unfortunate(?) things occured.

a rock under your shoe and a very graceful process of falling to the ground

kinich looking back (his mistake)

a kiss...?

oh, and two extra.

4. ajaw had saw it all. 5. and mualani, who had saw you from a distance and was coming to greet you, was faced with a sight she could not process.

...Now that he thought over it again, was the matter really "simple"? kinich's job was what he considered simple — split 70% to investigation, 10% to final decision, and 10% to execution, well portioned and planned out.

then, this...

.

.

.

"girlie, you've seriously got the wrong idea. i'm telling you, we aren't dating!"

"mmmokay. of course! because not-dating people kiss allll the time!"

you paused for a moment, remembering kinich's even tone, stern gaze, and... ah, a face that deserved a gold medal.

"it's only 99% not love, okay mualani? but if it wasn't..."

.

.

.

"... and it's 99% not love, ajaw."

(a/n) darling im back from jail part 2. daddys home part 2. not funny? ok. HIHIHIHI ive bene really built like a sun dried raisin lately but kinich is the healing holy water that has saved me i will write more for him in the future because i love him a stupid amount its like the first time in a decade I've written for just ONE character and AND AND

I THOUGHT HE WOULDNT OCME HOME BECAUSE I ONLY HAD 68 WISHES OUT OF MY ORIGINAL LIKE 100+ AND RUINED MY CHANCES BECAUSE OF REALLY REALLY WANTING MuALANI (i love her sm) BUT. BUT BRO CAME HOME. ON THE FIRST 10 PULL AND WON THE 50/50 JUST LIKE MUALANI DID (or is it 45/55 now idk) LIVE LAUGH LOVE KINICH !!

[ tags: ] @manager-of-the-pudding-bank, @iamdedinside, @ilyuu-archive, @falors, @swivy123, @scara-is-my-wife, @lupicalbestwolf, @justyoureader,@fiannee, @aether-darling, @aioniela, @avensuersa, @dainsleif-when-playable, @intpessimistic

( dm or comment to be added ! i might miss ur comment so just to be sure, leave a comment on the actual masterlists page on my pinned ^ ^ )

[thatfandomslut]

Puppy Love

Regina George x Reader

Word Count: 1k

Trigger Warnings: there is so much fluff in here that it's crazy, also a puppy is in here so prepare your hearts for a lot of love

Request:

Can I request a Regina George x Fem!reader for Renee rapp? Please anything I'm like in a dry desert with no water, please feed the homosexuals. Thanks so much!

Mean Girls requests are open.

Regina narrowed her eyes at the puppy that was taking (Y/n)'s attention. It was a golden retriever puppy that (Y/n) named Apollo. He was cute, and Regina could admit that. However, it sucked (Y/n)'s attention away entirely from her and to this dog. Regina knew this jealousy was petty and dumb, but Apollo was becoming a problem for Regina. For example, just moments before now, she and (Y/n) had been making out, but when Apollo came crying to the door, scratching on it, (Y/n) was up in seconds. Now, instead of (Y/n) holding her close, she was cradling a puppy who would never truly appreciate her.

"Wait," Cady said, formulating everything Regina was telling the group. (Y/n) hadn't joined them yet because she was too busy showing one of their classmates pictures she had taken of Apollo. "So, let me get this straight. You are jealous of Apollo? Her incredibly adorable golden retriever puppy? I'm not sure I understand why."

Regina's eyes narrowed at Cady when she said this, causing Cady's eyes to look anywhere but towards Regina. Even if the clique system had officially been brought down by the exposure of the Burn Book, Regina was scary. "You don't understand, Cady. I have lost a lot of make-out time because he will come pawing at the door. When we study at her place, it turns into a session where I study and she plays with Apollo. He's not even that cute." Regina stuck up her nose, knowing what she was saying was out of anger. She knew that Apollo was incredibly cute, and at first, so were all of (Y/n)'s interactions with him.

(Y/n) approached the group with a wide smile on her face, kissing Regina's cheek as she sat down. "Hey, everyone," she greeted, not catching on to how everyone but Regina avoided her eye. A tell-tell sign that they were talking about her, but (Y/n) was absolutely oblivious. "Does anyone want to see this video I got of Apollo at his puppy training class yesterday? The teacher said he was her best student. She said he was 'paw-some.'" (Y/n) said with a bright smile, not noticing Regina roll her eyes. Cady was the first to look over, excited to see Apollo, Karen followed, and then the rest of the group was awe-ing over how cute Apollo was. Regina was seething.

"Are you still coming over, princess?" (Y/n) looked over at Regina with a smile, but it quickly dropped when she saw Regina's expression. She looked sour as she stared at her now cold cheese fries in front of her. (Y/n) was trying to figure out if she had that same expression when she sat down earlier, or if she had just missed it. She was hoping that whatever it was, Regina wasn't mad at her. "Hey, Regina, what's wrong, babe? You look upset about something. Is there anything I can help with?"

Regina resisted the urge to say anything that she might regret late. Instead, she kissed (Y/n) with a soft smile. "No, love, just thinking. I'll definitely get over it though. Yes, I will see you later today." Regina promised, and the group looked around at each other quietly. The bell rang, and the group split up. Regina had dropped (Y/n) off at her class, and then she went with Gretchen to their shared math class. "I should've said, the problem is she loves her dog more than me," Regina grumbled to Gretchen, who decided it was best to say nothing. She didn't want to contribute to Regina's anger.

After school, (Y/n) was playing with Regina's hair when she heard the familiar pawing at her door. "There's Apollo, I'm going to let him in." (Y/n) kissed her girlfriend before letting the puppy in. "I'm going to use the bathroom fast, too. Do you think you can watch him?" (Y/n) questioned as she brought the dog over to Regina. The puppy squirmed excitedly as he was placed in front of Regina, running up to her and licking her on the face. (Y/n) patted his head before taking her momentary leave.

"Stop it, stop it," Regina held Apollo away from her as she examined him with a sneer. Letting out a little bark, he attempted to lick Regina again, even if he was at a far distance. Regina didn't realize at first that she smiled at that, but when she did; she looked around quickly to make sure nobody witnessed it. She let go of Apollo and the puppy came bounding over to her, curling up to her side as he allowed her to scratch behind his ear. "Okay, I think I'm starting to get it now… You are kind of cute, I guess."

(Y/n) grinned when she came back to the room, happy to see Regina finally warming up to her puppy. She knew she was struggling to share the attention when she came over, but puppies need a lot of attention, too. "Look at these two cuties," she took a picture before lying beside Regina, Apollo resting in the middle. "I'm glad you seem to like him. I thought you couldn't stand him. I was beginning to get worried you might be jealous of him or something." (Y/n) said, addressing how she would never want to make Regina feel that way,

Regina shook her head, hiding the lie between her teeth. "What, no? I was never jealous of Apollo, He's a cute puppy." Regina said simply, hoping she didn't give herself away too easily.

Her comment made (Y/n)'s brow raise, but she said nothing, not wanting to accuse Regina of not telling the truth. Instead, she planted a kiss on Regina's lips. "And you are my cute girlfriend. I love that you love Apollo." (Y/n) said happily, snuggling Regina and Apollo. She couldn't wait to make that picture of Regina snuggled up to Apollo her screensaver later.

[daydreamerwoah]

Love Through It All Pt. 3

tw: mentions of cheating, mentions of divorce, hurt, angst, anger, crying, sadness, therapy/counseling

I don't condone cheating at all. But I know every marriage and even relationship is different. What one person might do in a situation, another might not do it..... Every time I write something, I'm always writing with the thought of the main goal being OC or in this case 'Y/N' ending up with the man I'm writing about (in this case it's Ghost). So this is going to be angst... but Y/n & Ghost are going to stay together at the end of this little story....

If this upsets you, pisses you off, or you hate it... I'm sorry :( Sort of my first time writing angst like this, so send me the feedback plsssss.

ALSO - I'm not a counselor or therapist, so please note the "session(s)" that Y/n and Ghost attend may not be how therapy actually is supposed to go, but for the sake of the story let's pretend it does.

It was weird. Strange. Confusing.

A few days had passed since you agreed to go to counseling with Simon. You tried not to, but the ghost of a smile that formed on his lips when you said you would go had you feeling so many emotions. You hated yourself for it. You also hated yourself for how you loved that Simon wanted to work on your marriage and himself.

He came home early every day in those past days, even if you two didn't have dinner together. Even if you two hardly talked to each other, he was at home. It was odd. Walking around in your own home trying to ignore him, and it was eating him alive.... and you too.

On more than one occasion, he would sit out on the patio with you, even if you didn't say anything to him. You honestly wanted to talk to him, but that felt too foreign; too prohibited. Couples that were going through divorces couldn't be so domestic, could they?

It wasn't until the night before you went to counseling that your coworker, Ava, begged you to go have a drink after work that you found out if other couples had gone through something similar. You tried your best to avoid her questions, but she read you like an open book, asking what was going on. When you finally broke down in tears and told her everything, she hugged you tightly as any good friend would do. She even told you what she had gone through, and you were shocked to learn about her and her husband's almost divorce story.

Like Simon, he had cheated and it tore Ava apart. While it wasn't the exact same situation, the pain was still the same. But she encouraged you to do what you wanted to do, and that was the difficult part.

"You want to stay wit him don't you?" she asked with a sad smile.

You nodded, "I love him so much. And I know it's so stupid. I'm an idiot. But I don't know if I can... it hurts so much."

She hushed you before more tears fell, "Y/n.... I know it's hard. And I know that other people might say you're crazy if you stay with him... but they're not you. They're not married to Simon. You have to do what you think it's right for your heart........ and if it turns out differently, then it's your life. Not his. Not mine. Not anybody else."

She spoke with so much conviction, you sort of felt happy for a split second. It was what she was told when she was going through those same feelings.

"I just wish he would have told me." You sniffled, looking down at the empty glass on the table in front of you.

She hummed in thought for a moment, "You know what I think you should do?" she asked, making you look up at her again, "Make him realize what he was missing while he was too busy with her."

"Huh?"

She nodded, "Yep. If he couldn't see that you are the only woman he needed, then show him."

Your eyebrows drew together, "How?"

A devilish smirk formed on her lips.

When you arrived on base the next day, you were beyond nervous. The Military Police at the front gate looked at you in confusion when you showed him your ID, but you were too busy trying not to vomit on your clothes. The clothes that you finally decided to put on after debating for over an hour over putting them on or not. Ava's idea of making Simon realize how much you were the only woman he needed was to start showing him how much any other man could and would try to take you from him.

"Your clothes," she told you. "And.... the way you act. It's time to bring out your dark feminine side."

Your what? You hadn't even heard of that before.

It was a stupid idea, but one that would work because while you normally got dressed in your usual casual work attire at first, Ava called you that morning and made sure you wore that outfit she made you buy last night before going home. It was a hassle to hide it from Simon, who was sitting on the couch when you arrived, but you somehow did.

The light and flowy clothes you always wore were switched to a more tight-fitting and sexy outfit while still keeping it chic and appropriate because you still had to go to work afterward. The icing on the cake was when she told you to wear heels; sexy heels. You even wore makeup - mostly to hide the dark circles under your eyes - as you didn't wear it often. And god did it work....

When you got out of your car and walked the short distance to the front doors of the building, several soldiers passed you, not even trying to hide the fact they were staring. Even a soldier who held the door open for you to walk into the building stared, trying to hide his gaze by offering if you needed help finding something or someone.

Simon was sitting, waiting in the lobby - like he texted you a few minutes ago - so you declined the random guy's offer as you looked around for your husband. He stood up before making his way to you when he heard your voice, but he found his feet walking slightly quicker when he saw a man standing in front of you, glancing up and down your figure. When your eyes met his, the corners of your lips turned up slightly, partly because you were nervous, the other part because you had never seen him at work before.

But Simon's eyes cut away and landed immediately on the soldier next to you, and when the guy looked at who he knew as Ghost, he gulped. "Need something, Sergeant?" Simon asked, his voice short and blunt and a tad bit irritated.

The Sergeant shook his quickly, "No sir." He glanced at you then back to lieutenant, "Have a good day.... sir," he quickly said before scurrying down the hallway.

It was funny. Simon used to tell you that he intimidated people, and while you sometimes saw it when you were out in public, you never saw him do it at work. Watching that soldier leave hastily drew a small giggle from your throat before your eyes met your husband's brown orbs once more.

Simon was thankful that when he worked, he wore his hard shell skull-printed mask. It maintained his anonymity both on missions and on base. But in that moment he was even more thankful because it hid his facial expressions as he looked over you, taking in your outfit. Something definitely changed in what you had on. You had never wore work clothes that seemed... sexy and slightly revealing.

"You look beautiful," he sincerely said before he could even process his thoughts. You were going to work... like that?

Your breath caught in your throat as you looked back at him. You heard the way he said it. Like he was trying to figure out how to take in what you had on. "Thank you," you whispered. You glanced down at your wrist to look at your watch, "We should head in."

He gave you a nod, before guiding you down the hallway to the chaplain's office. You tried to ignore the burning feeling in your chest as his hand rested on your back while he walked slightly behind you. Like he was keeping you in his view, but letting you know he was right there with you. He did that all the time so what was so different about it now?

Steading your breathing, Simon came to a stop and informed it was the chaplain's office. You nodded, nervously licking your lips before he turned the handle and allowed you to go in first.

With brief introductions out of the way, you, Simon, and the chaplain - Lt. Jones - sat in his office. You and Simon were on the couch, while he sat in the chair across from you two. It was awkward, and you felt your heart beat rapidly in your chest while Lt. Jones opened his notebook and took out a pen to write.

"Now I know this can't be easy for both of you... but I'd like to start off by telling me how you came to the decision to seek counseling yeah?" He began.

You fidgeted in your seat, briefly glancing at Simon before back at the chaplain, while your husband swallowed the huge lump that formed in his throat. A beat went by, and you almost thought you'd faint from how anxious you were, but Simon spoke up.

"I.... cheated on my wife." He breathed out, and it hurt when you heard the pain in his voice.

Fuck. You weren't even five minutes into the session and your eyes were already tearing up. It hurt more than you wanted it to hear him say it out loud; that he cheated on you. For the past few days, you had been ignoring him because you weren't ready to hear those words from his mouth. But now you had to. You had to if you wanted to get past this.

Lt. Jones wrote something in his notebook, and you and Simon both glanced at his pen moving across the page, "And you two want to work through this yeah?"

You opened your mouth to speak, but Simon spoke before you, "Yes."

However, the chaplain noticed the way you fidgeted once more on the couch and closed your eyes. He glanced at Simon then back to you, "Mrs. Riley?" He asked. The name; your name. Hearing that alone made a tear trickle down your cheek. Simon glanced at you and god did he want to reach out and touch you, but he was afraid you'd yank away from him.

"I-I want to-" Simon couldn't help the tiny smile that began to form on his face, but it dropped when you continued, "-but.... I don't think I can."

"Why is that?" the chaplain asked.

You glanced at Simon, seeing his eyes already locked on you. Even with his mask on you could see the sad expression in his eyes, "Because... I know how this ends."

Both Lt. Jones and Simon looked at you in confusion, Simon more so than the other man.

"What do you mean ma'am?" Jones asked.

You tried to keep the tears in, but talking about your past was never easy to do. You had only briefly talked about it to Simon before and it was very much just saying that your last relationship didn't work out but you never said why. But now..... you didn't want to lie to a chaplain; a priest. So you continued. . .

"I always get hurt. Always-" you glanced down at the floor in thought, "-my last relationship... I was cheated on. The one before that I was cheated on. It doesn't matter." You sniffed, making the chaplain hand you a tissue which you kindly took, "At some point I just have to accept that I don't belong in a relationship, let alone a marriage."

"Y'never told me that," Simon interrupted, his voice soft.

You shrugged, "It doesn't matter... you still would have cheated Simon," he visibly swallowed the lump in his throat, "I get it... I'm not enough. I've never been enough. Not for you. Not for-"

"That's not true." He cut you off. You could hear the frustration in his tone.

The chaplain also heard it and decided it was good to step in, "Lieutenant.. please let her finish. It's good to get feelings out when you want to work through things. Especially something like this."

He sighed, nodding as he glanced back at you. You hadn't even looked up from the spot on the floor before Jones told you to continue. But you knew Simon would interrupt you once more at what you were going to say next. And that made you cry more.

"The only difference between now and the past is that I'm not getting my ass beat," a sour chuckle left your throat.

"What?" Simon asked as his body tensed greatly.

The chaplain even looked at you in a way that was...guarded?

"Mrs. Riley, what do you mean by that?"

You looked up at him, "My last relationship.... when I found out he was cheating, I confronted him about it. And it just resulted in me in the hospital."

Silence.

Nothing was heard as the two men looked at you, eyes wide, even if Lt. Jones tried his best to remain expressionless. Simon, on the other hand, was fuming in his head. Some dick at the audacity to put his hands on you because he got caught cheating? He wanted to find the douchebag and kill him... but you never talked about your ex; never said he hit you - his wife. He didn't care if that was before he met you, he was thinking of all the ways he could find the guy and kill him.

"Is that why you think you can't work past this with your husband now?" You nodded, and Simon couldn't help his words from slipping.

"Y/n I would never hit you-"

You finally looked back at him, "I know that. I know you won't. Still doesn't change the fact that you don't love me anymore."

"I do-"

"Stop it Simon," you pushed.

Thank god for Lt. Jones who was good at his job. He knew the conversation was going to turn into a back-and-forth bickering spree so he stopped you two before it got to that point.

"If you two want this to work through this-" he began, making you two look at him, "-I recommend that you both continuing counseling with me. Let's start off with twice a week yeah? One day will be an individual session, and the other will be together." Simon glanced at you before nodding his head in agreement. A deep frown formed on your face at the feeling that you wanted to continue this. You had to if Simon was going to give you the papers. But you also really wanted to work on your marriage. You sighed before nodding your head, making the chaplain give you both a soft grin. "I know it's not easy. Marriage. But just knowing that you even came in here today, shows me that deep down you want to get past this together."

Lt. Jones eventually dismissed you both with a tiny bit of homework to do before your next session the following week. Emotions were all over the place for you and Simon. While you were busy worrying about the battle between wanting to stay with your husband or leaving, Simon was beating himself up. He had done the one thing that he honestly never thought he would have. He was just like his father, and that thought alone made him want to vomit.

You were almost to the front doors of the building when Simon's gloved hand gently grabbed your wrist, turning you back to look at him. His eyes were on the brink of tearing up, but you knew he wouldn't cry... not at work. He didn't say anything for a moment while he looked at your face, eyes flickering to the quivering of your lip and your redness of your eyes.

"Why didn't you tell me?" was the first thing he said.

You almost rolled your eyes, but instead you focused on his boots, "Because it's not something I like to talk about. It was a long time ago, and I was stupid to stay with that bastard," you whispered, "But it doesn't matter what happened Simon. Would you have done anything differently if I told you?" Your eyes snapped back up to meet his as you pulled your wrist out of his grip.

He didn't respond. You couldn't see it, but his jaw tensed greatly under his mask. Would he have not cheated? You couldn't be sure... but you also couldn't think about it because a high-pitched voice interrupted your conversation as a woman strolled up next to your husband.

"Ghost..." she said as she looked at him, "I was looking for you earlier. They said you was busy."

Ghost. The way she said his name made your eyes snap towards her as she glanced at you. Simon didn't even acknowledge her for a second, eyes still on you, before he looked at her. His jaw was flexing under his mask so hard he thought he would break his teeth. And by the way her eyes widened at you before she awkwardly looked at your husband, you felt something stir in the pit of your stomach.

You tried to lie to yourself. You really did. But the jealousy swam through your body as you looked at her. It was her; the woman from the video. And by the look on Simon's face when he looked at her in disgust only confirmed it.

"Uh I'll just see you later alright?" she quiet said before quickly walking away down the hall.

The universe was truly against you wasn't it? Out of everything, you didn't expect to actually see the woman in person. The woman who - even in her uniform - was a beauty. You always admired the beauty of women, complimenting a woman when she looked nice or anything. But you hated the way she looked; hated the way the makeup looked on her.... because she was gorgeous. And because she was everything you weren't.

As she walked away, Simon didn't even turn his head to look back at her, his eyes trained on you. But you looked. You leaned your head to the side to watch as she glanced at the two of you before turning a corner down the hall, a slight frown on her face. The anger that bubbled in your chest had you turning on your feet and walking out of the building to your car, making Simon walk after you.

"Sweetheart," he tried calling out to you, but you picked up your pace, wishing the ground would swallow you whole. "Y/n..." he reached out to you again.

You spun on your heel so fast you thought it would break, "It's her, isn't it?" He didn't respond, "Her?!" you raised your voice a little, making him close the gap between you.

"Love please don't do this," he begged, keeping his voice down since you were standing outside.

"Do what?? What I should do and leave?" you felt like you were about to burst with anger.

He grabbed your arms, pulling you into him even further, "No. Please Y/n... Sweetheart, I swear I'm so sorry for hurting you. I wanna make this right."

"How Simon? How can you even make this right?" you choked on a sob that escaped your throat. "I can't do this right now. I need to go to work, Simon."

You pulled away from him, his hands longing for your touch as you walked to your car and got in. Before you pulled off, you hated that your eyes immediately found his and you wanted to punch the window so bad. Instead you steadied your breathing and drove off to work.

Simon watched as you left, fingers flexing as he fought the urge to punch anything that was in his sight. Pvt Williams had just returned from a mission with her unit, and he knew exactly where he was going next as his eyes darkened with intense anger.

Yep. This will officially be a short story I feel like. I have so many ideas running through my head. Working on part 4 currently.

[seulgiwifeee]

What Shall I Do || Wendy

♡ Member: Gangster*Wendy x Nerd*Femreader

♡ Theme: Fluff, SOME angst (like the TEENIEST bit)

♡ Warning: Cussing, Wendy low key likes to be praised ? :0, she just wants to impress you :(, detailed make-out session (hehe), <<<a TAD bit suggestive during it, slow burn I guess? But it's worth it I promise ⸝⸝o̴̶̷᷄ o̴̶̷̥᷅⸝⸝

♡ Description: The troubling girl that Wendy is has found herself falling for the girl who couldn’t be anymore opposite of her. She decides she wants to act upon her feelings, but she doesn’t know how she’ll be able to successfully approach you until she walks past that tutoring flyer that’ll change everything.

Word count: 9.2k (I got carried away..LOL)

(Genuinely didn’t know what to make as the title so I just put the title of a song I thought would go good with reading,, #stream What Shall I do by Hoody and all of her other songs ɞ̴̶̷ ·̮ ɞ̴̶̷)

All idea credits go to the amazing @wendyslegalwife ‘s request ⸝⸝ɞ̴̶̷ ·̫ ‹⸝⸝ ♡ !!

তততততততততততততততততততততততততততততত

How could people so polarly opposite ever make things work out between them?

Wendy questioned that each time she'd catch herself staring at the beauty of Y/N, muttering stubborn curses at herself when she'd realize you were making her lose focus and blush in front of her clique for simply existing around her.

They would try to poke sly teases at Wendy, asking her whom she was giving 'lovey-dovey' eyes to, as they'd say, but the sharp turn of her threatening eye was enough to shut them up and make them uninterested quickly.

But anyway, the question still stands—what was so enticing about you?

Why did Wendy have to like you?

You, Y/N L/N, out of everyone in this school?

There was nothing special about you.

You were just a huge distraction and if anything Wendy shouldn't have even been acknowledging your existence.

You're a nobody!

She had better things to focus on and you're not even her type!..

..Or so that's what all her stubborn mind used to tell her.

Now, there's no denying the heady effect that your presence alone has on her each time you enter the classroom. Wendy's the first person to even notice your appearance, and without fail each time, her eyes stay glued onto your figure until her conscious snaps her out of it or if one of her friends nudges her to back to reality.

Was it the way you spoke with your honey-sweet voice any time you answered a question?

The alluring look you'd unknowingly eye your teacher with when you were focused on the information she would share during discussion?

Or how Wendy thought you looked so nerdy-cute from how your large glasses would sit propped down on your nose, practically sliding off, and how your tongue just slightly poked out from the side of your mouth each time you were fixated on completing an assignment?

Or maybe it was all? (It was)

Despite whatever reasoning it could've been, all that Wendy knew in conclusion was that she wanted— No, needed you. Badly.

But she's the most feared girl at the school, along with her little gang. Everyone, plus the teachers and staff members, is scared of or intimidated by Wendy. Yes, including you too.

How could Wendy get with someone who flinches every time she walks past them or nervously looks away when they dare to steal a glance at her for any longer than a split second?

It's not like she's some kind of bully or has ever done anything to you; she'll only become aggressive if someone purposely does or says something to her or her friends to piss her off, and that is when things can get scary, so other than that Wendy's nothing more than a harmless (-ish) troublemaker if no one tries to mess with her.

But unfortunately, the damage of her aggressive and intimidating past actions has left too much of a dent into the school's atmosphere for people not to be uneased by her, and all the fear that's been instilled in everyone's minds is practically irreversible for her to suddenly try acting all soft, thinking that could make people in any way forget the girl she's shown herself to be for last few years.

And aside from the rough image she has to put up with, she knows that you on the other hand probably wouldn't even try giving her a chance to date you.

Like come on, you, Y/N, the girl who makes straight A's, never skips class, avoids drama at any cost, actually cares about her studies, and is probably the sweetest person in this school just to end up with Wendy; this little delinquent she knows that you probably portray of her as who can flip the mood just by walking into a classroom with the wrong look on her face? Not a chance.

But that dismissive thought doesn't deter Wendy because no matter what, she will still do what she can to show you, to prove to you that there's more to her than just the edgy facade she shows on the outside.

It's just.. how will she be able to show it?

She already knows that she can't casually walk up to you because either you would take that as a threat and run away before you'd allow her to get a single word out, or she wouldn't last more than two words into the conversation before you'd run away from the bubbling fear and anticipation. So either way you're going to end up running away.

Okay.. so how will Wendy be able to approach you that doesn't end up with you running away?

Maybe she could find someone who could give her your number and then you two could try messaging?

Never mind, she knows that would just creep you out even more.

Okay, no message, now what?

With each new idea Wendy comes up with, she has to scratch it out because it's either bound to not work or there's just that one flaw that completely ruins it.

Soon, that brain fog kicks her in the ass hard and she can't figure up any new ideas. It doesn't break her determination, of course, she's too prideful for that, but she's definitely losing her patience.

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Wendy walks down the hallways with her usual mean mug, clearing the path of nervous and startled people just by walking near them.

She steps past the bulletin board filled with posters of the school's weekly news, not minding any business to them until she suddenly pauses and makes a rewind back to a little certain flyer that catches her attention from the corner of her eye.

"After school tutoring with a buddy!" is printed in bold blue letters on the poster.

Wendy takes time to read more into it, finding out that the school's top students have joined together to host this little tutoring program to bring students with struggling grades to stay after school so they can get help on understanding their course better and getting their grades up. The person signing up can also choose who they want as their tutor and, surprise surprise, you just so happened to be one of the top students involved with this.

This is perfect. If you end up tutoring Wendy then she can finally have an excuse to approach and start some form of conversation with you, and you wouldn't even have any choice but to talk with her!

But the only downside to this is that you're tutoring for the math section. Wendy can't stand math for the hell of it, that's by far her weakest subject and just one look at her grades can be backed up as evidence to prove it. Also, the spots are very limited since it's only around fifteen students who'll even be tutoring, and there's also another student who's tutoring for math, so it's not even guaranteed to Wendy that she'll end up with you as her tutor if someone doesn't get to you first or if she'll even manage to turn her papers in time before all the tutoring spots, in general, are taken.

And again, she just doesn't want to deal with anything math-related.

But.. whatever it takes for her to talk to you.. she'll just have to push herself through it and risk these chances.

Once she gets the papers, she fills them out and turns them in as quickly as she can, determined to seal her spot with you, and impatiently lives the day on and she waits for the upcoming Friday to find out whether or not she makes it in.

—

The exact moment as Wendy arrives home from school that Friday afternoon, looking down to check her phone as the time changes from 4:59 pm to 5:00 pm on the spot, she grins widely once that confirmation email pops up in her notification bar, letting her know that she's eligible for the tutoring and that you've been assigned to be her tutor. 

Well.. Of course, Wendy got accepted so easily, it would've been incredibly stupid on the school's part for her not to be; the second the administrators received her filled-out papers she was the first student they even signed up for the program. And really.. if the school could've, they would've tried to sign her up for more tutoring other than just math.

Wendy's small moment of happiness, though, is lifted momentarily once the sheer realization dawns on her, the remembrance of certain things said in the tutoring flyer and the things she'd have to face that she didn't take into account earlier all floods back into memory.

She's in tutoring. Tutoring.. meaning she's going to have to be associated with a bunch of other dumbos and idiots.

Also, tutoring sessions are supposed to be happening after school in the cafeteria.

Everyone.

All at the same time.

It doesn't matter to her that the tutoring is one-on-one or if everyone's going to be spread out in their own "private" section of the cafeteria, she can't be seen in front of all these people receiving help. She knows she doesn't actually plan on taking the tutoring seriously since it's just a tactic to get closer to you, but no one's going to catch on to that from the bare eye! They're just going to see Wendy as a weakling!

She can't let that happen.

She hurriedly types out an email to Mrs. White—the vice principal and head person in charge of this program—asking if there are options to tutor somewhere else, and not too long after, she responds back suggesting that you two could tutor separately from everyone else in one of the empty classrooms, but that solution is not good enough for Wendy.

She needs the two of you to be alone, somewhere more private than that.

Matter of fact, she doesn't even want to be on school grounds when you two are having your sessions.

Wendy writes again, asking in desperation if it's possible she and you could work off campus, but all Wendy's told is that the first session has to be done on school grounds, just so everyone can be monitored and can be seen if there needs to be any switching around and other nonsense Wendy didn't care to finish reading about.

Although.. Mrs. White at the end did say that after the second or third session, she'd see what she could do for you two regarding this, but Wendy knows that "I'll see what I can do" bullshit 99% of the time usually means there's nothing that can be done.

Well, that's great.

Wendy's nowhere near satisfied with this, but again, if she wants to get closer to you, then she'll just have to deal with this nonsense.. she supposes..

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Sooner than Wendy can even realize, the day finally comes.

She never realized how much she'd really been anticipating this day until the final dismissal bell of the day rang, her heart dropping as everything suddenly hit for her to process; she can't tell whether she's more excited or nervous.

As she exits the classroom, her little gang is confused once they see her creeping the opposite way of the exit and all begin to question her.

She makes up a quick lie along the lines of needing to go to the bathroom and that all of them could just go ahead and leave since she'll catch up with them later. And like the airheads they are, they somehow believe her, not even giving her any further questions before they go on and leave campus.

Wendy lets out a sigh of relief and once they're far out of her peripheral, Wendy quickly speeds down the hallways, not caring one bit if she bumps into anyone, and hides around a secluded corner in the science building. She makes sure to keep herself hidden from any lurking eyes, continuously checking the time on her phone to see if it's anywhere close to the time yet for the tutoring.

"Hurry up.." she mutters impatiently looking down at the time and tapping her finger on the wall behind her as she keeps an alert eye out to make sure no one's walking near her.

The slow minutes tick by and it only serves to heighten Wendy's anticipation, but after what feels like forever she looks back at the time and sees that it's just five minutes past the time tutoring was officially supposed to begin.

She finally curves out from the corner, quickly peeking her head out to make sure the coast is clear before she marks her way toward the cafeteria doors. She takes in a deep breath, clenching her fists to her sides before she brings herself to open the doors.

As Wendy steps inside, she looks around at all the people inside getting situated with each other. Lingering near the entrance, some people sitting around spot her there and a quick change of emotion from their once cheery, talkative expressions is noticed—Fear.

Of course..

Wendy rolls her eyes at them, unbothered, and walks towards an area where there's a group of people sitting, assuming that's where she should be sitting too.

She sits at the end of the table and immediately buries her head into her phone, not wanting to draw any attention to herself, which honestly she knows is pretty useless since her classmates can very well still see her and are very well terrified and confused about why she's here.

Wendy feels an abrupt shift in the table as she watches her phone and looks in the corner of her eye to notice everyone scooted further away from her. She scoffs, putting her attention back to her phone and muttering under her breath, "Losers."

Everyone around Wendy joins with their tutoring partners as she restlessly continues to wait for you. She can feel cold sweats trickling down her forehead as her hands begin to shake. Wow, you were the one making Wendy nervous. Only could you ever do that to her.

She continues to distract herself scrolling through her social media until she notices a pair of feet approaching her and hears a small voice speak out. "Uh.. Wendy?"

Wendy looks up, her heart skipping a beat as she meets eyes with no one other than you. But her demeanor clearly doesn't show her nervousness, seeing as you cling tighter to your notebook in a tense stance.

Wendy quickly softens her features once she notices your uneasiness and tries her best to play a sort of soft, inviting smile instead. "Y/N?"

You nod your head hesitantly, not fully trusting the sincerity in Wendy's smile, and look down at your notebook.

"So.. looks like I'm tutoring you," you mumble with a blatant tone of awkwardness, placing a piece of hair behind your ear as Wendy nods along.

"Which table would you like to work at?" you ask, trying your best to mask the edging fear layered behind your voice with a fake smile.

Wendy's eyes spark up and she suddenly stands up from the table, causing you to flinch and instinctively take a step back.

"Actually, I was told that we were allowed to study alone in one of the unused classrooms."

Your pupils dilate instantly just at the mere thought of being trapped alone with Wendy. It was already bad enough that you were chosen by her to be her tutor buddy, but now she wants you two to be isolated from everyone just to where she could do god knows what, whether it's something to you or someone else? This is like asking for death.

"Uhh.. are you sure you wouldn't just like to study over there somewhere?" You gesture your finger towards a different direction in the cafeteria in hopes of changing her mind, but her plan stays firm as she shakes her head.

"And be stuck seen in here with these losers? It's already degrading enough for me just having to sit at this table, you're real funny if you think I'm staying over here any longer." Wendy walks past you without warning, heading towards the exit.

"B-But.." you call out weakly as she walks further away. You mutter a curse under your breath, holding in a deep breath before you push your legs to reluctantly follow after the troubling girl.

You guys walk down the empty hallways in silence, an awkward tension very noticeably stirring up between you two as you try your best to avoid eye contact, maintaining a fair distance while Wendy struggles to think of how she can spark up a flowing conversation.

After a few turns searching around the hallways, you two find a vacant classroom. You open the door with your key, but Wendy still somehow manages to get a hold of the door before you, holding it open as her hand gestures for you to go inside. You quirk a brow but nod your head in a simple gratitude as you step inside. The further you walk inside, the more you start to regret signing up to do this tutoring program.

You really don't want to be alone with Wendy. You don't understand— Well, you do understand why you're so unsettled around Wendy because of obvious reasons, but it's not like Wendy's ever done anything to you specifically. She's never hit you, threatened you, or given you a dirty look.. Shit, you're not sure if you've even spoken to her other than today.

And if you're being honest with yourself, you know you're only scared of her because of all the rumors that's been passed around. Because truth be told, you've never really seen her in action before with your own eyes.

So why is your body giving you symptoms that make you seem like you're so terrified of her?

Why is your heart beating in erratic patterns even while she's not doing anything to you?

Maybe you don't trust her?

Yeah, that's it. You just don't trust her.

You sit at one of the tiny desks and Wendy pulls a chair out from another desk, setting it across from you. As she pulls out her phone you look back down at your clipboard. "Alright, so you need help with algebra 2 I see.." you mutter and Wendy hums unenthusiastically.

"Do you have any homework assignments that we can look over?" you ask, but she shakes her head muttering a quick "nope."

"Well, do you have any note—"

"Nope," Wendy says bluntly, interrupting you before you can barely finish your sentence.

"Do you have anything algebra-related in your binder?"

Wendy shuns you with another sharp “no.”

You sigh with disappointment, though you're not surprised, mumbling an awkward "okay" and flip through your work folder. "Well, that's okay because I have some worksheets in here that we can work on together, so—"

"—Hey," Wendy cuts in again, a little more aggressively than she had intended. Your ears perk up from the sudden, harsh interruption as your heart begins to gradually pick up its pace again as you hold your breath. "Yes?"

"You know, this is our first day of sessions. Don't you think we should get to at least know each other better so that we can get more comfortable working with each other?"

Oh, you're pretty sure you know Wendy well enough.

"Um.. I guess?" you mumble with uncertainty.

Wendy smirks and leans back into the chair, grunting as she stretches out her arms. Your eyes narrow down for a split second, noticing the shiny belly piercing adorned on her toned stomach as her dress shirt slightly lifts. Cute.

"So.. I already know we have each other's names established by now—me, Wendy, you, Y/N," Wendy says and you nod.

"So then, Y/N, tell me some things about yourself so that I can get to know you better."

"Just anything?" you ask and Wendy nods.

What is this, an interrogation? Why would Wendy care anything about you? Was this all just a distraction so that you two couldn't start on any work? (Yes, it definitely is)

"Um.. Uh.." you don't know what to start with or say first because, well, what are you supposed to say when you're put in such a sudden and awkward position?

"Come on. Just tell me the basics, like what's your favorite color?" Wendy says trying to help by giving you some ideas.

"Umm, my favorite color is blue."

Wendy nods, biting her lip. "Me too.. What's your favorite candy?"

"I like any sour candy," you state simply.

Wendy hums with the subtle nod of her head again. You continue for the remaining minute answering Wendy's questions about yourself, but you suddenly begin to stumble on your words, avoiding eye contact each time you speak as her piercing gaze bores into you in a somewhat intimidating way.

"Yeah, I have a younger sister and she.. she.." Wendy's resting bitch face is in full play and it does nothing but intimidate you. Her dull eyes pierce into the depths of yours, an impassive look's glued to her face as the corner of her lips is hung downturned.

Wendy's clueless about your fear because this is only her focused face, she's taking the time to study each and every one of your intricate features. She can't control the way her features curve, she doesn't even notice her facial language looks threatening in any way right now, but once she sees how uncomfortable you've suddenly gotten she quickly realizes and softens her expression again.

You still don't say much, avoiding eye-to-eye and staring down in your lap.

Wendy frowns and taps her acrylic in front of you to grab your attention. You look up, breath slightly shaky as you lock eyes with her once again.

"Hey, I know this is kinda awkward having to work with me n' stuff, and I know you're probably scared of me, I can't really blame you, I guess, but I swear I won't do anything to you.

Besides, it's not like you've ever done anything to piss me off, so there's nothing to even worry abbot. I promise I won't bite." There's a hint of humor to her words.

You look into her softened eyes and for once, you seek a little comfort. You notice your muscles have tensed down and you sense a small truth to her words. Still hesitant, you mutter an "okay" before you and Wendy continue this little get-to-know-each-other thing, you gradually loosening up and getting more comfortable the more you talk with her.

You and Wendy end up not getting any worksheets done or even starting on anything.

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You sit alone in the classroom, your patience gradually wearing thin as you wait for Wendy to arrive for your next meet-up.

It's nearly been seven minutes past the time the session was originally supposed to begin and Wendy still hasn't shown up or answered any of your questioning text messages regarding where she was.

You lean back in the chair, your feet propped up on the desk as you scroll through your phone to pass the time quickly. After another three minutes or so, Wendy finally arrives with a plastic bag in hand.

She sits in the seat already propped out for her and places her belongings down. "Hey!"

"Hi," you mumble. "You're twelve minutes late."

"My bad, my bad. Just had to go to the store real quick." She lifts the plastic bag, pulling out two water bottles and two bags of candy.

She slides one of the bags and a bottle over to you. "Here."

You never asked her to bring you anything.

You look down and see a bag full of blue raspberry gummy bears all coated in that sour sugar.

Coincidence?

Wendy brought you a bag of blue, sour candies right after you told her the other day that your favorite color was blue and your favorite types of candy were sour?

Maybe you're thinking too much into it since Wendy also bought herself the exact kind of gummies, but your intuition was right because Wendy was, in fact, doing this on purpose. You didn't know it, but this was her subtle way of showing her affection towards you.

You soon noticed a pattern as your sessions continued; Wendy would distract you with questions about yourself, never letting the two of you do any real work, and then the next session she would gift you small things that were or resembled your likings you would've mentioned the day before.

She would be slick about it too because she would never bring attention to the gifts, she would just hand them to you, never bring it up afterward and then continue her distraction question any time you would even think about saying the word algebra.

You can admit, you do appreciate the small gestures from Wendy, but you did not sign up for the two of you to just sit around hanging out and doing nothing productive.

You only volunteered to tutor, not to waste an hour out of your day making conversation with someone who's not even your friend. You might not be scared of her anymore now but you're just barely starting to settle your comfort around her.

You two have already had four sessions now and haven't gone far with anything. The most "work" Wendy's probably done so far is glance at a worksheet..

But you have to hurry up and get some sort of progress in because if the principal finds out you two have just been dilly-dallying the entire time then they won't hesitate to remove you from the program.

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Wendy makes her appearance very known as she busts into the classroom with a mischievous smile, late as usual, and plops down into her seat haphazardly. "Hey, so what's your—"

"We're doing work today."

The charm in Wendy's eyes darkens and her smile fades almost instantly from your sudden interruption. "What?.."

You slam your folder in the middle of the desk and slap a blank worksheet on top of it. "I said, we're doing work today."

Wendy narrows her eyes at you, quirking a brow. "Okay well, it's Friday. So that means today's technically a free day so really we can just start working on assignments next week—"

"—No, Wendy!" you state firmly, making sure to amplify the harshness in the tone of your voice. Your eyes widen slightly as you surprise even yourself with your use of assertion, it's a foreign concept to your usual sweet nature, but you narrow them down back seriously. "If you continue to goof off instead of completing any of your assignments then I'm going to have no choice but to cancel our sessions and find another person to tutor for."

Wendy's taken aback slightly by your change in tone, her impassive expression slightly making you uneasy since you can't tell what she's thinking or how she'll take this, but she doesn't try to fight your words and just ends up sighing, resting her cheek into her palm as she looks off with disinterest. "K.."

Concealing your feelings with a smile, you nod as a wave of relief washes over you, inhaling a jagged deep breath after you had unknowingly held in your breath again and pointing to the first problem on the sheet.

"This is a pretty simple problem to start with. Do you think you can try this out for me?" you ask with a forced tone of enthusiasm just for Wendy to shrug nonchalantly. "I guess."

You hand Wendy one of your pencils and slide the sheet closer to her. "Remember, I'm here for a reason, so whatever step you may get stuck on just ask about it."

Wendy gives you a single nod without looking up at you and stares down at the worksheet, all the numbers and wacky symbols already giving her a headache. Math.. God, the one thing she was trying to avoid doing.

After a minute of Wendy just staring at the paper, not even attempting to jot anything down, you tilt your head. "Do you need any assistance?"

Wendy groans. "No.. No. I'm fine! Just.." She grits her teeth, airing in aggressive breaths as her grip on your pencil intensifies until she punctures the sharp tip of the pencil into the paper, the lead slightly crumbling underneath the force as a tiny hole is formed. Oh no, she's getting stressed.

"Wendy seriously, I—"

"—I got it. Okay?!" she snaps, smoke practically blazing out from her ears. You flinch back from the aggressive tone, just nodding and deciding to stay silent, not wanting to irritate her any more than she already is.

You watch closely as Wendy sketches random lines and numbers, erasing them all and rewriting different ones just to erase those ones as well. Her mind cascades into a whirlwind of panic as the pressure starts to weigh down further on her, beginning to hurriedly jot down random stuff in the hope it will form some sort of sense and refresh her memory.

Wendy doesn't know a single thing she's doing. She never pays attention in her classes, especially not math, so this girl can't even grasp an idea of how to start these stupid equations.

And now she's in front of you, looking like a dumbass as she struggles with a problem that's supposedly supposed to be one of the easiest.

Wendy knows most people look down upon or think lowly of her when it comes to her smartness and knowledge in the core subjects, and of course, she's been one to never give a fuck about their opinions because she can just fight anyone who dares to speak about it, but it's different now that she's stuck in front of you struggling on basic problems, feeling your piercing eyes never leave her.. It makes her feel smaller. Dumber.

Heat radiates off Wendy as her cheeks flush a bitter, crimson red, and her face contorts into a grimace as her mind turns foggy. She's absolutely reached her limit now. She throws your pencil across the room, you ducking sideways just in time, and she buries her face into her palms, groaning in almost a screech and roughly pulling down on the sensitive skin of her face.

"Wendy? What's wrong? What are you struggling with?" you quickly glance down at her paper, seeing all the eraser markings and random numbers.

"Fuc— Everything! I don't fucking know any of this x and y shit!" Wendy blurts out, panically running her fingers through her hair as her face hues a darker red from stress and embarrassment, maybe even shame. "I—I—"

"—Wendy, calm down. Look at me."

She hesitantly lifts her head until you two lock eyes. You bore your vision far into the depths of her dark eyes, frustration clearly displayed outside, but there's also a newfound look of vulnerability you notice as you search deeper—something you've never seen Wendy express.

"I feel so stupid, Y/N.. I-I just don't know what to do," Wendy admits sheepishly, her eyes wavering as she looks down with a burning shame.

"Wendy.. it's okay to not know everything. That's the reason why you were put in tutoring in the first place—so I can help you. (Well..)

There's no need to push yourself down." You reach out to lightly place your hand on her arm but quickly pull back once she stares at you again with her sharp gaze.

Man, now you're talking to Wendy like this? Never has she felt so little, showing this side of her vulnerability to someone, especially to you. But in a way, despite how bashful she may feel right now, there's still a comfort she feels in admitting her weakness to you.

"Come on, look at me," you encourage. She looks back at you and sighs.

"I'll promise to go easy on you and make sure you understand this well enough, you just have to stop avoiding it."

Wendy tenses down and nods. "Okay.."

You smile and pull out your folder again. You pull out a note packet and place it in front of her. "Okay, let's start with refreshing our memory with the basics."

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To both of your surprise, there was a upgrade in progress from Wendy after the next few tutoring sessions.

No, it wasn't and still isn't an easy flow teaching Wendy when you're basically starting from the bottom, but at least you could tell she was actually trying, putting in some kind of effort. Although she still managed to sneak in some distraction questions to steal some minutes of your time; there was just no way Wendy was going to make it through an entire hour doing nothing but work, especially in her most hated subject. Even if it's with you.

She also continued to give you small gifts of the things you liked at the beginning of your sessions and you would still humbly accept them.

"Is this right?.." Wendy asks as she nervously slides the worksheet toward you.

She bites her tongue in anticipation as she watches you inspect her work. You look back over to her with a soft smile and nod. "Mhm, you did this perfectly!"

Wendy's eyes immediately light up, biting her lip as she tries to suppress a smile.

You've also been very observant of Wendy recently. Very.

Her actions, and the way she reacts to certain things.. One thing specifically you've noticed was the way her eyes perk up anytime you're pleased with an equation she solves correctly. She genuinely gets so giddy and smiley, it's almost like she's happy to make to proud.

Or the look of contentment on her face whenever you'd flash her an assuring smile, letting her know that it was okay for her to make mistakes whenever she'd start to become hard on herself.

You've also noticed other things.. Like her piercing obsession.

Both of her ears are pricked with piercings from the bottom to the very top; it almost seems like there's a new one placed in every other session! She has a belly piercing that you've already noticed during earlier meet-ups, a nose piercing, a lip piercing, a tongue piercing?!

And sometimes when she.. free balls it, you catch yourself looking down at her chest and noticing piercings in a little certain area you're too ashamed to admit you enjoy staring at. But hey, you only stare back when they look at you first!

As more time went by, you started to realize that even on days when you two weren't having your sessions, all the images of Wendy's piercings stayed engraved in your mind.

You weren't shy to admit, they were sexy and you did believe they made Wendy more of an attractive person.

But maybe that wasn't the only thing that you felt made her attractive..

Maybe it was the flow of her husky voice every time she spoke, the plumpness of her dark red lips moving keeping you transfixed.

Or maybe it was all the silver rings adorned on her slim fingers clacking against one another.

Or the comforting vanilla musk that trailed her every which way she went, although you did think it didn't really match her vibe.. But maybe that was what you thought made you find it more attractive.

Maybe it was the curve of her slender nose or the contour of her defined cheekbones. Her perfectly smokey makeup or the thick bangs that just barely covered the edge of her eyes as she carefully gazed at you with that look she'd shoot you with each time she was focused on listening to you talk.. the way she'd slowly lick her lips and ever so lightly bite the bottom of her lip.. every 'mhm' she hummed and the gentle nod of comprehension that'd come right after when you would ask her if she understood what you said..

Maybe.

Maybe.. you not only thought these qualities made her an attractive person.. but that these were the specific things that made you attracted to her.

Maybe the flutter in your heart every time you would catch yourself around her all this time wasn't actually out of fear or of not trusting her, but because deep down you were falling for her and that you subconscious was just trying to dismiss those feelings..

And just maybe.. you need to stop thinking 'maybe' to all of these things when you know it's all true.

You can't even try to deny it.

There's no 'maybe' anymore.

You are crushing hard on Wendy.

And normally you would shame yourself for having these feelings, falling for someone like Wendy out of everyone, but there's something about this side of her she's been showing you for the past few weeks and her charms that doesn't make you feel any regrets for feeling this way and only drags you deeper into her love trance

You and Wendy are basically flirting with each other in your sessions now.

She tells you jokes to make you blush, you stare at her in ways that you know will get a bright flush out of her, you two give footsies under the desk, you two bring each other snacks, sharing them, you two just blush at each other when you're not even doing anything!

There really is no hiding it, at this point.

Anyone with vision can clearly see you two want each other.

And you weren't stupid, though maybe a little obvious at first, because as more sessions went on you quickly caught on and realized that all of Wendy's gestures since the very beginning were all planned out and were done with the intent to win you over. And it was working.

Wendy on the other hand still wasn't sure whether or not you were feeling her.

Obviously, she could see the difference in your comfort level with her from the beginning of your sessions to the present, but what if you were only seeing her as friend material at most?.. which of course isn't true because you know you like Wendy, but as long as you don't confess it to her then she won't ever be sure.

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"Okay, solve this last problem for me, and then we'll be done for today," you tell Wendy as you point to one of the unanswered problems sitting on the worksheet.

Wendy nods, beginning to write away, and after no more than two minutes she hands you back the sheet. "Is this right?"

You scan her work and with a simple smile you lift your gaze back to her, humming a gleeful "Yup!"

Wendy blushes and applauds mini claps as she grins widely. "Finally. We're done!" she celebrates, springing up from the seat and picking up her bag.

You follow along with her, gathering all your belongings and putting them up before you throw your bag over your shoulder and follow Wendy out of the classroom, promptly locking the door afterward.

"So, where are you headed to once you leave?" Wendy asks as the two of you strut down the empty halls side by side, barely an inch of distance between you two.

You roll your eyes slightly with a chuckle. "Why do you ask me this every day when you know what my answer's going to be; home."

"Oh yeah.." Wendy mumbles as you roll your eyes again playfully. "So, what are you gonna do when you get home?"

"Study," you tell her simply and she fake gags, muttering "nerd" which results in you playfully shoving her side as you two fall into a mirth of laughter.

As you two exit the building, you feel a sudden buzz come from your phone. You look down and immediately frown, seeing as your mom just now had given you a heads up that she wasn't available to pick you up from school today.

Wendy hears your groan and turns to you. "What?"

"My mom can't pick me up, now I have to order an Uber.." you mutter, crossing your arms.

"Orr.. you could just let me take you home," Wendy blurts in a suggestion, holding her hands up as she holds a shrugging stance. "Just saying."

You shoot her an unsure look, not because of the idea of her wanting to take you home, but because that would mean you would have to ride on her motorcycle. And for someone who's never stepped foot near a motorcycle having someone like Wendy be the first person to drive them on one is kind of a terrifying thought.

"I don't know.."

"Oh come on, it won't be that bad," Wendy assures rolling her eyes.

You narrow your eyes at her. "Sure.."

—

You cling around Wendy for dear life as you scream the entire fifteen minutes on the ride to your house.

Wendy giggles and continuously jokes with you throughout the way, teasing you with scares by randomly swerving or stopping in the middle of the road to tick you off.

As soon as she pulls up to your house you let out a huge sigh of relief. With how she was driving, you thought you weren't going to make it out alive.

As she parks, you continue to keep your head leaned on her shoulder, your arms still wrapped around her waist, squeezing tightly onto her abs.

Starting to blush from your action, Wendy jerks her head, clearing her throat to catch your attention, and you quickly widen your eyes in realization, letting go of her now feeling embarrassed once you see how you remained around her.

You unbuckle and pull off your helmet, handing it back to Wendy and she lazily hangs it on the steering handle. She rotates her body to the side and turns only her head to you as she watches you pull off your backpack and reach inside for your glasses.

You place your glasses on, slipping back on your backpack before looking over to Wendy, immediately locking into her gaze. "I guess I'll go now.." you announce unenthusiastically, prepping yourself to sit up from the motorcycle, but yet you don't find yourself moving.

"Alright.." Wendy says lowly, continuing to stare at you as she waits for you to make your move, but you don't budge. Not even an inch.

You continue to sit, motionless, held in a standstill gazing at Wendy as she shoots you an equal gaze.

She bites the corner of her lips hungrily, you unknowingly wetting yours slightly. The buzzing tension between you two grows as you subtly inch closer to each other; the unknown force between you is practically impossible to resist and the way Wendy's staring at you is so much more different than usual.. The burning intent behind her eyes is unspoken, yet you can understand it so well. And Wendy can see all the desires floating in the pearls of your unwavering eyes, letting her know that you're feeling the same thing she is.

The both of you can already sense what's coming next.

The thumping in your heart beats quicker as you inch closer to the point where both of your legs are pressed against each other. You two continue and continue to hold your hungry gazes until you finally crash your lips together in a heated kiss full of need and longing.

Your hand explores the back of her head, her hand cupping your cheek tightly as the kiss gradually deepens. Her tongue slips past your teeth in search of yours, dancing all around in your mouth and you softly moan at the action.

You two are kissing like you've done this thousands of times with each other.

After a few seconds you two finally pull back breathlessly, your chests heaving up and down and faces red.

"Oh.. wow.." Wendy mumbles, biting her lip as she eyes your numb lips that are now stained with her cherry lipstick.

You feel your cheeks burning, not even knowing what to say, and dart your eyes between Wendy and your house. You stare at her, wrapping your arms around her waist as you pull yourself in impossibly closer against her.

"I want to do that again."

তততততততততততততততততততততততততততততত

"Anddd done. Is this good?" Wendy asks, looking down at you with a simpering smile and holding out the sheet with her completed equation.

You take a few seconds to inspect it before placing it on the desk and warmly smiling up at her, silently already letting her know what your answer is. "Yup, you got this correct too!"

Wendy grins, holding her arms tighter around your neck and adjusting herself more comfortably as she sits in your lap. "Woo! You know, that was the fifth one in a row I've gotten correct. Don't I get my reward now?" Her palm rests under your chin, the tips of her fingers gently tilting your head back so your eyes only meet with her gaze.

You hum with a nod and lean in, softly pressing your lips against Wendy's. Your hands continue to hold tightly onto her waist, your nails gently digging into her back while Wendy keeps your head firmly propped up in her hold.

What's supposed to be a quick, innocent kiss quickly escalates into something a little more. You part your lips slightly, allowing her greater access to mingle her warm tongue inside with yours. Her breathy moans against your lips buzz throughout your body and you can taste the metal of her piercing as her needy tongue swirls all around your mouth.

Wendy squeezes her thighs around you tighter, clutching onto your hair in her strong grip and you moan slightly, lifting your eyelids as she gently bites down on your bottom lip. "You've been doing such a good job today." The gentle praise vibrates against her lips, sending needy chills up her spine and eliciting a sheepish giggle to bubble out as her cheeks flush a rosy pink. You smile smugly at the way you can make her shy so easily and lick her bottom lip into another messy kiss.

Yeah, uhh.. so you two do that now.

Ever since that afternoon of you guys' first kiss, a new relationship has been blooming between the two of you.

You're not officially dating, but you know you two have made it way past the friend stage now, and by this point, you two do know you like each other.. so why aren't you together?

That's a very good question that neither of you can answer.

Aside from trying to figure out this complicated relationship, you two are incredibly flirty and touchy with each other now, clearly.

Of course, though, only during the tutor sessions; you two act like no more than strangers during the school day, but sometimes during the one class you two share, Wendy will discreetly slide you little trinkets or candies as she walks past your desk.

Also, to bring context about that abrupt make-out session.. a method that you two have thought up to help encourage Wendy, even more, to complete her assignments and get them done correctly is treating her with a kiss for each equation she solves correctly on the first try. And this strategy has worked like a charm.

Like, of course, Wendy will do everything to try her very hardest so that she'll be able to share a kiss with you and hear the sweet praises you love to sneak in between that you know drives her crazy. How could she pass that up?!

You two continue to messily moan into each other's mouths, your hands eagerly exploring all around each other's bodies and the kiss becoming sloppier and losing more meaning as you two melt further into each other.

Right as Wendy's hand slides down to your lower abdomen, daring to try taking this heated make-out session into the direction of something further, she's interrupted as two firm knocks are heard from outside the door.

Now, who would be trying to come in here at this time?

Wendy groans, lazily pressing a series of kisses against your lips until she finally pulls back. She looks down at you in a daze, a smile quickly lifting the corners of her lips as she notices her lipstick smudged all over and around your lips. She places her thumb over your soft cheek, swiping away some of the lipstick before she pushes herself off of you and heads towards the door.

Wendy opens the door, her expression flipping like a light switch as a mean mug already plays on her sharp features, but she softens up just slightly once she sees it's only Mrs. White outside. "Hello, girls!"

As Wendy says her greeting, the older woman notices both of your faces, seeing that deep red stained messily all around your mouths.

She furrows her eyebrows in question but quickly shakes it off knowing she'd rather mind her business and not know what you two had been doing prior.

"What brings you here?" you ask as you discreetly try to wipe your mouth, Wendy's lipstick staining brightly onto the back of your hand.

"I'm just here to check up on everyone's progress, to see how well we've all been doing." She walks towards the desk you're sitting at, tapping her pen against her clipboard and clicking her tongue as she turns to look at Wendy. "And I especially need to check up on this one."

Wendy rolls her eyes while you cover your mouth in a silent chuckle.

"Yeah yeah, whatever." Wendy lazily flops down back in her seat as Mrs. White leans against the teacher's desk.

"Wait, so what are we supposed to show you?" Wendy asks, folding her arms under her chest.

"Just try your best to solve some problems on your own. And you," Mrs. White looks over in your direction, "ask her some questions about what you two have been working on so far to see how well she can answer them."

You nod in response and grab your folder, pulling out a sheet of notes. You and Wendy shoot each other one last preparing look, letting out a sigh before you two begin.

Mrs. White is astonished once she sees Wendy actually answering your questions correctly and solving these equations all by herself without even asking or looking over to you for any assistance. Yes, she might've gotten some wrong, but looking at the fact a majority of the problems she solved were correct was just enough for Mrs. White to put a smile on her face.

"Wow, Wendy. I can't believe you've improved so much! I'm seriously so proud of you."

Well, Wendy definitely can't say she hears that "proud" word told to her often. Wendy rolls her eyes, playing a smug smile as she blushes. "Yeah, you should be proud of me!"

Mrs. White shakes her head with a sigh and turns her focus over to you. "And you, Y/N. You've done an excellent job at tutoring Wendy; I don't think I've ever seen growth this significant in such a short time. I'm proud of you both."

You smile coyly, sharing your words of gratitude before Wendy groans and starts to shoo her off. "Okay this is getting too sappy for me, you can get out now."

Mrs. White holds up a pointing finger at Wendy, pursing her lips as she fights to stay professional with her words before she shakes her head, fanning off Wendy, and waves her last goodbye at you as she exits the room.

Once the door closes, Wendy looks over to you, grinning wildly seeing how your arms are already spread out for her.

She steps around the desk, straddling back into your lap and places her hands on your cheeks.

"Now, where did we leave off?"

তততততততততততততততততততততততততততততত

As more weeks go by, Wendy only progresses more and more.

If someone had seen her after not knowing who she was a few months ago, they would've never guessed this math genius was the same person.

She's improved so well to the point that it seems like she didn't even need the last few tutoring sessions she had just because she was that good! The grade in her algebra class has skyrocketed to percentages that no one would've believed she could ever achieve, and not only that, but you've also motivated her to take her other classes seriously too!

Of course, they haven't succeeded in advancing as well as her math grade, but at least she was finally turning in her work on time for once in all these years.

Also, Wendy's been so distracted in wanting to impress you, to please you, and to make you happy that she hasn't stumbled herself into any trouble or drama! No fights, no skipping, no detentions, no suspensions. None.

Wendy never expected to go this far with math, let alone any other subjects! It's so crazy for Wendy to think all she needed to take school seriously and become a (sort of) changed woman was to drag a hot, nerdy girl into her life.

The two of you sit on the bench outside the front of the school after you guys finally finish your last tutoring session of the year.

Your head comfortably lays on Wendy's shoulder as you two stare off into the orangey-pink hues of the nearing sunset. As she gently rubs on your thigh continuing to stare off into the sunset, she can't help but want to express the thought that's been lingering in the back of her mind for a while now. She turns over to you, barely parting her lips.

"Are we dating?"

Your ears perk up at the sudden question, turning only your head to her. "Are we?"

You two, after all these weeks and months, still haven't confirmed anything between each other. Why??

Why do you two have to be so complicated??

"I mean, we touch each other like we're a couple, we gaze at each other like we're a couple, and we definitely kiss like we're a couple.."

You turn the rest of your body to her and smirk, placing your hand on her waist and scooting in closer to her. "Well, then I guess you've found your answer."

Wendy blushes and looks down before she meets back with your gaze. "Well, can we go ahead and, you know, confirm it with each other—make it official? Our whole dynamic is going to confuse me even more if we don't put any official label on each other soon."

You giggle coyly and tilt your head. "Alright then. Will you be my gir—"

Before you can finish the sentence, you feel a finger forced onto your lips. You furrow your brows while Wendy shakes her head.

"No, I want to be the one to ask you it!"

You pull her finger down and shake your head slowly as you try to hide a laugh. "Alright then."

Wendy holds onto your hands, interlocking your fingers and squeezing you tightly.

"Y/N.." Wendy starts with a shaky breath, the intense blush on her cheeks taking over as she struggles to not stray her eyes away from you out of shyness. Wendy.. being shy. Once again, only you can do this to her, make her feel like this. "Will you.. be my girlfriend?"

You squeeze her hands tighter, your knuckles turning whiter and flashing her a bright smile. "As long as you'll be mine."

And with that left off as the final words, you two lean in, sealing your relationship with a gentle but strong and promising kiss.

i REALLY hope you guys enjoyed this..

— Seulgiwifee ໒꒰ྀི♡˵ᴗ͈ . ᴗ͈ ꒱ྀི১

[one-idea]

Marineford goes from extremely tragic to hilarious if you think of it like a DnD complain.

Ace’s player and Luffy’s player are actual brothers.

Ace started playing in late high school / freshman year of collage his first campaign was with the spade pirates but the group fell apart because the other players got job/ went to different schools / just life.

But Ace loved his character and wanted to keep playing. His friend, who played Masked Deuce, wanted to keep playing as well but wanted his character to be more combated focused. So he created the character of Marcos. (Both doctors and first mates, both friends with Ace) They got some new friends and kept playing in the same world just with a new crew

Whitebeard’s player is definitely Marco’s players actual dad. They need another player and Whitebeard loves his son and was like “I’ll play!” He either knows nothing about the game or has been playing since the 80’s and is the most knowledgeable person at the table. There is no in between.

The DM is probably Shanks or Rayleigh. I like to think it’s Shanks and his level 20 character he’s had for years just pops up occasionally to solve problem that the party needs help with.

Anyhow Luffy has heard Ace talk about DnD for years but he doesn’t have any friends to play with. So when he goes to college it’s like his number one goal.

Make friends,

make friends play DnD.

(We will talk about the Strawhats chaos later)

So everything’s going great. Ace visited Luffy and joined in on a few of their sessions. Still plays Ace, he loves this character, he’s played him for like four years now. But he gets to know Luffy’s friends and joins them for a bit in Alabasta.

He goes back to his campaign and tells the whole group about Luffy (he has been for years but now he can talk about Luffy’s complain) and everyone wants him to bring Luffy around to play with them.

But then tragedy. The whitebeards have to disband, most of them are graduating, Marco’s player is going to med school it’s just going to be a long time before they can all sit down and play again.

So they decided to go out with a bang!

The Dm has Ace get captured and they plan this elaborate jail break for the party. But it just so happens Luffy is going to be on break at the same time as their last few sessions. And wouldn’t it be great if he joined them!

So the Dm (they are Dming both games god bless them) has the strawhats split up (they are all going on break and it’s a fun story reason for why they all won’t be together) then he pulls Luffy aside and is like, how do you feel about playing with your brother’s group? Luffy’s pumped he’s never been so excited.

So Luffy does all of impel down. Ace is there cheering him on and having fun role play at the same time. His friend Jinbei had wanted to try playing for a while so they gave him a character card and him and Luffy escaped Jail together.

But then we get to the actual Marineford season. It last for hours. There’s combat. There’s roll play. What none of the players knew, was that Whitebeard had approached the Dm about his character dying in combat protecting his kids. (He wanted this to be a memorable session for his son and his friends, they all cried, they loved it)

But then Ace get caught up in it all (this was not planed) and ends up getting his character killed. The table is in shock. There is no way that just happened!

Luffy is sobbing. His brother just sacrificed the character he had played for four years to save his character. He knows how much Ace means to his brother. He’s an actual reck. He had loved Ace to.

Ace’s player is upset, he did love that character, but it’s part of the game. It happens. He’s more upset about how hard Luffy’s taking it.

After the session the two brothers are hanging out. Luffy is apologizing for getting Ace killed and his brother, who’s played for years, and wants to make his brother laugh, says no worries want to help me make a new character?

So they spend the break writing a new character and working them into Ace and Luffy’s back story.

Later when the strawhats are all back together (breaking the news to them that Ace’s character had died was wild!) they are playing and making their way to Dressrosa. A new friend, Law, has joined them. And he is being so serious about his character’s serious back story.

Then Ace’s player roles in like “can I join for a session or two?” All the Strawhats are thrilled, they had a great time playing with him during the Alabasta arc. The Dm says sure and asks about his character.

The two brother’s just smirk at each other and the player introduces his new character: Sabo

They explain the back story, this is Luffy’s OTHER big brother. The strawhats are dying. Law is over them, this is serious! The Dm is just exasperated “you don’t have the Mera Mera fruit.” He’s trying to drive home that this is a different character. Ace/Sabo’s player agrees and they start playing.

Except the Dm loves to troll and brings in the Mera Mera fruit. And everyone already knows what’s about to happen.

Sabo eats the fruit and his player yells “thank god” throws Sabo character sheet to the side. And before anyone can ask why he pulls back out Ace’s character sheet crosses off Ace’s name and writes Sabo next to it (he also raises his intelligence stat)

Character name: Ace Sabo

“I’m back baby!”

I just love that anytime he pops in him and Luffy just say the most ridiculous things about their back stories.

“Remember how Ace had a tattoo of his name spelled wrong to show that he’s not book smart. Well that was a lie. He did it to represent Ace, Sabo, Crybaby, and Edward Newgate.” Ace/Sabo’s player says with Luffy nodding aggressively besides him.

Whitebeard player find out. Finds it all hilarious and is flattered Ace/Sabo’s player brought his character into their nonsense.

Every now and then Marco and Ace/Sabo will come play at the same time and Marco always ends up calling Sabo Ace for the whole session.

[yumeka-sxf]

There were two panels related to Spy x Family at Anime Expo this year, with the first on Day 1 being Toho Animation's panel featuring both Spy x Family and Kaiju No.8.

The panel started with the SxF portion, with the special guests being the series director, Kazuhiro Furuhashi, and the CODE: White director, Takashi Katagiri. They also had the six SxF ThreeZero figures on the stage with them 😀

The MC asked them some questions, like what their favorite scenes were from their respective works and who their favorite character is. They also showed behind-the-scenes footage of both the Loid/Fiona tennis match in season 1, and Yor's fight scene against Type F in the movie. We got to see both of these scenes in rough animatic sketch form and then in line art form, which was pretty cool (it wasn't clear if photo/video was prohibited at this panel, but I didn't want to risk it by being caught blatantly recording these exclusive clips, lol). Then they showed off some of Anya's unused outfits from the movie.

At the end, they showed this original illustration by Kyoji Asano, made specifically for this event 😁

And that was it for the SxF part of the panel before they moved on to Kaiju No.8...and to be honest, it kinda overshadowed the SxF part, mostly because it featured two of the main Kaiju No.8 voice actors, one of which was extremely hilarious and charismatic. Plus there were a lot more segments compared to the SxF part. The interview with the guests seemed longer, they did three live voice overs, showed a pre-recorded special message from the band that performs the Kaiju No.8 opening, and then they took a group photo with the audience (and maybe something else that I'm forgetting). It seemed like the SxF part took up about 35% of the panel's time while Kaiju No.8 took up 65%. Not sure why it felt so unbalanced, but it was still fun.

Next was the panel on Day 3 for Production IG and their related studios WIT and Signal MD. Heads of each studio were there, including George Wada from WIT. Photo/video wasn't allowed once the panel started, but it basically consisted of an interview with the different guests, then trailers/teasers for their upcoming projects, then a Q&A session.

WIT is the studio that makes SxF, so I was hoping for any news about season 3, specifically if WIT would be more involved with it than they were with season 2. For those who don't know, season 1 of SxF was made by both WIT Studio and Cloverworks. But when they decided to make both season 2 and the movie in 2023, they split up the work, with WIT focusing on the movie while Cloverworks did pretty much all the work on season 2 (which is why the animation in season 1 and season 2 looks a bit different). According to this tweet, the official staff listing for season 3 is the same as season 2, meaning WIT will once again have little involvement. But despite this, they had a slide during the presentation with the season 3 promo image (preceded by the CODE: White teaser trailer, which made the crowd go wild - glad there were lots of SxF fans in the audience!) George Wada also said in regards to season 3 that they're "working hard on it."

I wanted to confirm during the Q&A if WIT would again take a backseat during season 3's production as well, but unfortunately the panel only had a few minutes left when it was close to my turn, and then they opted to pick a few random people in line for their last questions (which I thought was kind of unfair). Guess we'll just have to wait and see if anything changes with that staff listing once we get closer to season 3's release.

Overall, while Takuya Eguchi's appearance at last year's AX was more fun, it was still cool to attend this year's SxF-related panels as well. Hopefully season 3 will either be airing or close to being released at next year's AX, so we'll have even more SxF events!

[skzooweemama]

Tickle Fights with SKZ!!

(Hyung Line)

~~~

hello beautiful people! i have made my return to writing on tumblr! ik a lot of you won’t know that bc i am not tagging or mentioning my main acc, but it is merely the truth! anyway, i’ve been into t-word stuff for a whileeee and i wanted to try my hand at it!

have my headcanons!

(ps. pretty sure these can be either platonic or romantic so just use that imagination)

~~~

Tickle Fights:

Chan:

- so gentle, but might instigate the fights

- you’ve seen how he is with the boys… like c’mon now

- really likes when you get goofy with him, which is usually what leads to these fights

- you’ll both be giggling about something, him (and you?) doing the excited hand flaps when he can’t help but poke at your tummy

- if you’re ticklish, he’s not stopping, coming in with more gentle pokes and prods to keep you laughing

- if you’re not, he sits there for a good second processing, wondering why you didn’t laugh

- perfect time for a counterattack fr

- he’s plenty ticklish himself, so even if he’s getting you good (unless he has you completely pinned, which doesn’t happen a lot), you can still get him back

- his sidesss literally they're so so bad

- please tickle him there and don’t stop until he’s begging

- you pretend to count his muscles sometimes and it drives him actually insane

- too much of a gentle giant to actually do anything abt it though (other than trying to get you back)

- lots of dramatic “ahh!”s and his squeaky laugh

- STAMPY FEET OMG

- honestly, satisfied with the fight as long as you’re laughing (whether it’s from being ticklish or giggling at his cute reactions)

Lee Know:

- annoying.

- ANNOYING.

- he actually doesn’t start these fights a lot, knowing he’s just as ticklish as (or even more ticklish than) you are

- however, whenever they DO start, the foul play… it’s rampant

- he likes to cook for y’all, and you like to bug him while he does so

- a lot of the time this looks like back hugs that allow you to pepper kisses along his shoulders while he’s chopping vegetables, which is slightly annoying but nothing to seek revenge over

- however- if you ever get the inkling to sneak your arms around his waist and quickly dig your fingers into his ribs (which tends to happen sometimes)

- watch out.

- one day, this is exactly what happens. he’s cooking, you come up behind him and tickle his ribs and he lets out a squawk of laughter

- by the time he turns around, you’re already hightailing it out of the kitchen

- he lets you get away, deciding to go after you later

- will use any sort of method to trap your limbs in order to tickle you without fearing retaliation (and if you’re not ticklish… well i’d recommend getting him good)

- blanket burritos, pinning you under his body weight, pulling your shirt over your head suddenly

- you name it, he’s done it

- tickle fights between the two of you may last for days, with each of you trying to find away to one up the other’s previous revenge attacks

- usually, these culminate in the biggest wrecking session and the shame of the loss is enough to end the fight

- i wish i could say this was a 50/50 split, but honestly… you lose most of the time

- god gives his hardest battles to his strongest soldiers 🫡

Changbin:

- definitely more soft than lee know, but can still be incredibly annoying

- just in general, not even with his tickle fight tactics

- he usually inadvertently causes the fight to start, however

- he’s loud, just like all the time, 24/7

- sometimes you just want him to shut up, just for a little while

- and though making him laugh isn’t technically making him be quiet, it’s a welcome alternative to whatever other sounds he’s making

- as soon as he opens his mouth to parrot one of his little bits for the 30 millionth time, you strike

- this is how most of your tickle fights start

- he tends to have short, choked laughs at first

- if he can get away, you won’t hear his true laugh

- however, if you can get him defenseless, he’ll start his cute cackle immediately

- his chest is the best place to attack if you want this to happen, just make sure he can’t swat at you

- he will get you back as well, just a warning

- those muscles aren’t just for show, you know

- he isn’t ever mean or sadistic, he just likes to hear you laugh and if his jokes aren’t doing that, his hands will have to do

- he’s so soft

- I LOVE HIM

Hyunjin:

- drama king. king of drama.

- the MOST dramatic.

- you could have accidentally brushed his side while passing him in the hallway while the two of you were doing your own things and he’ll let out a loud “AH!” and clutch his side like he’s been shot

- really, he does too much.

- yes, he is that ticklish. yes, you want to exploit it.

- sometimes you’ll come with him while he practices choreography, and if he’s getting too frustrated with himself, you have the perfect solution

- when he’s groaning and pulling his beanie over his eyes after a mistake, you sneak up behind him and quickly massage his hips

- he shrieks, trying to step forward to escape you, but you take the opportunity to grab him around the waist and wrestle him to the ground

- you can get in some good tickling on the way down, especially when his beanie is still over his eyes

- his laugh is very screech-y, less a laugh and more a scream

- however, once he’s got his sight back, he’s gonna try to turn the tables

- hyunjin definitely is the type to get weak when tickled, but his long limbs can be good weapons

- be careful to avoid blunt force trauma from them swinging around

- once the attack is over, he doesn’t actively try to get you back (but if you put yourself in a compromising position… rip you)

- he does hold a grudge though so he prepared for some more dramaaa

- will probably demand food and affection as payment for your deeds

[chewingonsneakers]

ALL FOR THE GAME IN-DEPTH CHARACTER CHEAT SHEET

@themaxbox you asked for this

[MAJOR SPOILER WARNING]

ALL FOR THE GAME:

THE FOXHOLE COURT, THE RAVEN KING, THE KING’S MEN - NEIL JOSTEN AS MC POV

THE SUNSHINE COURT, UPCOMING TSC SEQUAL - JEAN MOREAU/JEREMY KNOX AS MC SPLIT POV

~~~~~

AUTHOR - Nora Sakavik (pen name) She/Her

~~~~~

TIME PERIOD - 2006-2007

~~~~~

CHARACTERS:

Neil Abram Josten -

He/him. The narrator, from a limited 3rd person POV.

Neil is 19 years old, 18 at the beginning of the books. Neil has naturally auburn hair and chilly blue eyes, both of which were covered with black hair dye and brown colored contacts throughout the first and some of the second book. Neil is 5’3”.

Neil Josten is not his real name, at least not until he had the FBI legally changed it in book three. Neil Josten is his twenty-second name ever used.

Neil Josten’s father is a serial killer known famously as The Butcher of Baltimore, or more realistically, Nathan Wesninski. Nathan works under a large and very wealthy Japanese Yakuza gang known as the Moriyamas. Nathan is named for his method of killing, usually chopping or skinning people using a butcher’s cleaver. He also had a wife and a son; Mary Weskinski and Nathaniel Abram Weskinski. Nathan and Mary’s marriage was likely arranged. Nathaniel was born in England to Mary and Nathan, though spent the next few years in Baltimore, Maryland, so his father could relocate and hide better. Nathaniel then grew up alongside the yakuza leader’s son, Riko Moriyama, and Riko's brother Kevin Day. They played on a little league Exy team run by the Moriyamas. The Moriyamas had trained them every day to become the greatest Exy players to live, in order to gain money and control. When Nathaniel was ten, it was decided that if he couldn’t prove his athletic potential through a solo practice session in front of the Moriyamas, he would be executed. The night of his solo practice, Mary stole five million dollars from the Moriyamas and took Nathaniel to flee through hidden tunnels. They spent the following seven years bouncing through countries and identities, all throughout Europe and America, most notably Germany and some time in France. They each had multiple fake passports and identifications, new appearances each time. Nathaniel cycled through 22 different identities, including the names Alex, Stefan, Rafael, etc. But when Nathaniel was seventeen, Mary had been found and captured by Nathan. He had begun to slowly kill her before she managed to escape, but she only made it halfway across California before she bled out and died in the driver's seat of their stolen car. So Nathaniel said his goodbyes to his mother, took the duffel bag of money and supplies from the backseat, left his dead mother in the front seat, and set the car on fire with a can of gasoline and a match.

He put his mother’s bones in a backpack and buried it under the blacksand of a California beach.

Nathaniel walked along the road with his bags for the next two days and made it to Salem before he collapsed and vomited, the shock of what happened catching up to him.

While a young child still under watch of his father, Nathaniel did not lead a happy life. His father’s hideous blonde henchman, Lola, forced him to kill small animals, skin, and gut them for practice, training him to become like his father in the future, to carry on the legacy. Nathaniel, Riko, and Kevin had once found Nathan messily chopping an innocent man into hundreds of pieces of flesh right on Moriyama property.

The first book starts immediately off with “Neil Josten let his cigarette burn to the filter without taking a drag. He didn’t want the nicotine; he wanted the acrid smoke that reminded him of his mother.”, a first look into his mind as he sits on the bleachers of the Exy court of a small community college in Millport near the house he had been squatting in illegally. A man named David Wymack approaches him and tells him he’d like to recruit him for the Palmetto State Foxes Exy team. after a brief conversation, afraid of how this man knows of his existence and what it could mean, Neil attempts to run up the bleachers and into the locker room to get away from the potential danger. He is stopped by an Exy racket slamming into his stomach. Wymack catches up, once again asks to recruit him, Neil looks to the side and spots his old childhood friend Kevin Day watching him. It scares him, he is worried Kevin may recognize him all grown up under the hair dye and contacts. Being previously caught by his Millport Exy coach sleeping nights on the locker room floor, supposed evidence of abuse going on in Neil’s “home”, this is used against him to convince him to come along and join the Foxes.

More personal info abt him:

He has zero style, from life on the run. faded and mellow colors were best and he took what he could get. A running joke is how he wears raggedy jorts quite often. Neil still has millions of dollars left that he keeps in his duffel bag, which he brings absolutely everywhere and never lets out of his sight unless safely locked away. Neil has only kissed one girl before during his life on the run but upon his mother finding out, she beat him to teach him the consequences of connecting with people or falling in love. He once wore a bulletproof vest for ten days straight out of fear and only stopped wearing it because after his mother cut it off him to wash it. He used to sleep in the same bed as his mother, with a gun under each of their pillows. Neil’s favorite color is gray. Neil still remembers the names of the two boys he stood by as he watched his father kill a man, and has a binder full of information, magazine cut outs, printed interviews, and pictures of Kevin and Riko to keep tabs on them. Neil loves fruit but hates vegetables because of what was easily available during life on the run. Neil dislikes sweet foods. Neil doesn’t drink or do drugs because he doesn’t want to lose control and let slip some important information about who he really is. Neil only buys cigarettes so he can light them and hold them to smell the smoke, only actually smoking them very infrequently. He doesn't care for the nicotine. He just smells the smoke and thinks of his dead mom. Neil is covered shoulder to toe in a war zone of scars from his father and his henchmen and the Moriyamas’ workers and life on the run. Some of these include a very large road burn scar that spans from his left shoulder to right hip from when he rolled out of a moving car, a healed gunshot wound on his left shoulder, and a large burn scar on his right shoulder in the shape of an clothing iron from a time when his father lost his temper. Others include smaller or longer or thinner ones covering some of his arms and most of his legs and torso. Neil has never had a friend before. Neil doesn’t consider anyone to be like family to him besides his mother (this changes eventually as he comes to terms with how his mother was not good with him). Neil has zero social skills but in a kind of funny way. He doesn’t understand slang, is in the dark on most pop-culture, and is sort of strange to talk to. Neil is unaware of having any sort of sexual orientation; it’s never been something he's spent time thinking about before. Neil’s skin color is a couple shades tanner than the twins’. He is jersey number 10, a striker on PSU’s Exy team.

Andrew Joseph Minyard - [TW: SA, SH]

He/him. 19 years old at the beginning, 20 by the end. Andrew has short light blonde hair and hazel (almost yellowish) eyes. Andrew is 5’0”.

Andrew is identical twins with Aaron, who I will introduce afterwards. Andrew and Aaron were placed into the foster care system after birth, but after only two weeks, their mother (they had an absent and unknown biological father) felt guilty and decided to take back only one of her babies. She randomly picked and chose Aaron. So for many years of his life, Andrew was a foster child. not a happy one at that. Andrew jumped from family to family, and he only says that none of them were good homes.

When Andrew was seven years old, he was raped by a male member of his current foster family. In the third book he admits during a conversation with Neil that the reason he hates the word “please” so much is because the man who raped him, Stephen, had told him he would stop if Andrew said it, but then didn’t stop.

— "Who said 'please' that made you hate the word so much?"

Andrew gazes at him in silence for a minute. "I did… He said he would stop if I said it."

"You believed him," Neil guesses.

"I was seven," Andrew says. "I believed him.” —

We know that similar incidents happened multiple times after that from different men of his following families, (Jesse, who liked to choke Andrew so he’d be quiet. Samuel, who called him a whore and told him he liked it.) but the most noteworthy is another absolute monster named Drake Spear. Drake, who found out Andrew was ticklish and used that against him.

Drake was a member of his final foster family. He was supposed to be an older brother to Andrew. Drake was in the military, he was this big muscle-y tattooed guy who was perceived as kind and gentle by his mother and the only foster mom Andrew had ever cared about, Cass Spear. What happened is that when Andrew first joined this foster home, he was twelve years old, and Drake was away at his station. After lots of trust gained, he grew to love Cass and see her as a real mother. She was very kind to him despite his bad behavior, which made him feel loved and act out less. One spring, she told Andrew that her son was coming home. Andrew didn’t like that but he trusted Cass so he didn’t make an argument. The day Drake came home, he was kind to Andrew, giving him candy and keeping his distance. But he wasted almost no time in destroying that trust and very quickly began the abuse. almost every night, Drake snuck into Andrew’s room to take advantage of him. It became too much quite quickly, and Andrew eventually took blades to his wrists to try and make his body his own again. While living with the Spears, Andrew first learned that he had a twin brother from a cop named Hidgeons who mistook Aaron for Andrew. The cop, who was confused as to why “Andrew” was with a woman besides Cass and ended up learning about Aaron’s existence, told Aaron about Andrew and then told Cass to tell Andrew about Aaron. Aaron, wanting nothing more than to meet his brother, wrote him an excited letter asking to meet him. Andrew responded with a simple “fuck off”. What Aaron doesn’t know is that Andrew did want to meet him as well, but refused to let that happen due to sexually violent and disgusting twin fantasies Drake would tell Andrew about after he found out about Aaron. Soon meeting his breaking point, Andrew snapped and got himself caught breaking the law just so he could get into juvie and could finally be away from Drake. He was saddened by the loss of Cass, though, who he considered a true mother to him. In juvie is where he finally met Aaron, during visiting day, where his twin came to see him for the first time. Long story short, Andrew wasn’t too kind to Aaron the first time they met. After serving his sentence, Andrew finally came to live with Aaron and their mother, Tilda. This is when Andrew found out that Tilda has been beating Aaron and is a drug addict and got Aaron hooked on drugs alongside herself. Andrew’s response? To take their mother for a lovely scenic drive where he reached over, grabbed the wheel, and steered the car down a hill wrecking it with intent to kill. Tilda died. Andrew survived. He's not so sure he wanted to. But anyways, it was considered a simple accident and he wasn’t caught. So the twins get a new guardian, now living with their cousin, Nicky. Nicky buys a house in Columbia and houses them both with little money and little support from the twins. While under Nicky’s care, Andrew tries to get Aaron sober, and his method of doing this is by locking Aaron in their bathroom for eight days and sitting in front of the door the entire time, only leaving canned food inside for Aaron. Andrew tried to ignore his twin’s screaming, banging, and vomiting from withdrawals and yes, it did actually get him sober in the end. Andrew is offered a PSU Exy scholarship because of the goalkeeping talent he displayed while playing in juvie, but refuses until they eventually give Aaron and Nicky scholarships as well as a deal. Nicky got Andrew and Aaron jobs as bartenders at a club/bar joint called Eden’s Twilight, lying about their age to do so. Andrew formed a small connection with fellow bartender Roland, and started hooking up with him in the employees-only back room. However, it was technically stautuatory rape, as Andrew was only seventeen and Roland was 23. Roland knew this and he still agreed, which is why i have many words on how much i hate his guts.

Once during a shift, four guys began harassing Nicky for being gay, beating him to a pulp on the sidewalk outside. Andrew took care of the situation by beating every single one of the guys nearly to death.

This little incident got Andrew on court-ordered antipsychotics and they all quit their jobs. but he’s not psychotic. This caused some extreme side effects of the medication. So for months and months, (this is before and throughout the first two books) Andrew walks around with a big manic smile on his face. He makes dumb little comments and laughs at bad times. His strict filter is completely removed. He absolutely hates taking them, but if he’s caught off of them he will be punished by law, so he made a deal with Wymack which allows him to be off his meds for half of every game before withdrawal kicks in. He also goes off them every night to sleep, and has Kevin keep hold of them. But by the time he begins vomiting and shaking from withdrawal, he begs Kevin to give them to him. In The Raven King, during a Thanksgiving dinner with a few teammates at Nicky’s parents’ house, Andrew has another incident with Drake, who was paid by Riko to find and assault Andrew once more for his own sick reasons. As the assault occurs, Neil and Aaron, Exy racquet in hand for protection, come looking for Andrew and end up breaking down the bedroom door. Almost instantaneously, Aaron enters the room and swings, slamming Drake through the skull and bludgeoning his head in, killing him. Later, following this incident, Andrew is sent to a rehabilitation center to get clean of his improper medication, as it has prevented him from properly coping with what happened to him, instead forcing him to turn it all to smiles and empty laughter. the doctor assigned to Andrew is a lackey for Riko, paid to inflict more pain onto the blonde. Dr. Proust uses everything in his power to destroy every last bit of Andrew’s dignity. In a shocking additional bit of information from Nora herself, we learn more details, such as; drugging him to make his head fuzzy and his body weak, using ward restraints to keep Andrew defenseless with the excuse that he’s a danger to himself and others, biting the scars on his wrists till they bruised, reenacting scenes from Andrew’s own trauma from details Riko paid to dig up, and, most of all, filming every single time it happened and sending the tapes to Riko. Andrew is the one who stops Neil from running away by slamming him in the stomach with an Exy racket.

More random info: Andrew says he doesn’t really care about Exy as a sport, he says he just plays it because it’s less boring than life. This is not known to be true or untrue. Andrew is a goalie with a number 03 jersey. Andrew wears pretty much only black, from muscle tees to turtlenecks to pea coats, basically all black all the time. Supposedly black platform shoes and such. For the first two books, Andrew has never received any consensual sexual touch. Andrew looks identical to Aaron, their only visible difference to most is the black armbands Andrew wears from elbow to wrist. Exy fans think it’s just his way of distinguishing himself, but Andrew really wears them to both hide his self-harm scars and sheath knives underneath them. Andrew smokes way too many cigarettes a day. Andrew’s favorite food is ice cream. Andrew has a very high alcohol tolerance. Andrew is very afraid of heights and sits on the roof of the dorm building to “feel something”. This makes plane travel for away games very difficult for him. Andrew hates the word “misunderstanding” almost as much as he hates the word “please”. Andrew speaks fluent german. Both the twins are very pale. Andrew is an absolute god at goalkeeping. Andrew is the second most buff person on the team, behind Matt.

Aaron Michael Minyard - [TW: substance abuse]

He/him. Same age, height, and appearance as Andrew; they’re identical twins. It is explicitly stated that they look so similar that the only way people can tell them apart is by either Andrew’s black armbands or Andrew’s manic smile.

Aaron is studying to become a doctor, and takes med classes. In the first book, Aaron begins seeing a Vixen (PSU cheerleader) named Katelyn Mackenzie. When Aaron and Andrew were still living with their mother, they made a deal that they will put each other first before anything, including relationships. Aaron did not break off this deal with Andrew beginning to date Katelyn, and for this Andrew despises Katelyn. Her appearance is not stated, but a majority of the fandom agrees as a running joke that she looks quite similar to Neil, in a funny bit that the twins may have the same type, though her appearance is up to personal interpretation. Most agree that she is taller than Aaron no matter what. She is also planning to attend medical school with Aaron after they graduate PSU. Aaron loves her, and in the future (after the books take place) the author confirmed that they get married and adopt a dog, a pug named Po, but they do not have kids. His mother, Tilda, was very physically abusive towards him. When Aaron was a young teen Tilda introduced him to drugs. She’d take them in front of him, therefore encouraging him to try.

He started taking any drug he could find to get himself high, including drinking cough syrup, but his biggest addiction was to painkillers. Tilda would get angry, but not because he was doing drugs, but because he would steal her cash to pay for them, or steal some of her own. Aaron was hooked and couldn’t quit, so when Andrew killed Tilda and they both went to live with Nicky, Andrew locked Aaron in their bathroom. For days Aaron tried any means to escape, pulling drawers out and throwing them at the door, punching the walls, and was in major withdrawal pain, crying and wailing on the floor and throwing up, he was a mess. He screamed for Andrew to Please let him out, please, but Andrew couldn’t hear that word without silent spiraling into his own mind. He eventually came out the other side clean and he had stayed that way since then. He considers it the worst period of his life, although he’s secretly thankful to Andrew for getting him sober. He still takes one drug, but it’s non addictive (i know, that’s why it’s fictional). Cracker Dust is a fictional drug in powder form that a few of the Foxes take; it is sweet like sugar and gets the user high like a mild version of cocaine, but has non-addictive qualities. He drinks a lot, too. At the team’s trips to Eden's Twilight, Aaron usually gets wasted and takes cracker dust before going off to the dance floor with a couple of the others.

More random info: Aaron has intricate unique handshakes with each of the bouncers at Eden’s. Aaron is 05, a backliner on the Exy team. Aaron blames Andrew entirely for the death of Tilda, and it takes a lot to even consider forgiving him. Aaron can be frequently found in his dorm room playing video games with Nicky and/or Andrew. Aaron wears simple clothes, with the exception of nights he spends at Eden’s, where he wears black clothes, oftentimes with leather. Aaron is quietly homophobic, most likely due to the strong christian views his mother and Nicky’s parents expressed around him, but he tries to get over this in therapy and, post-canon, eventually learns to get over it almost completely. Aaron also speaks fluent German.

Nicholas Esteban Hemmick - [TW: homophobia, suicidal ideation]

He/him. Most often nicknamed “Nicky”. Nicky is 5’10” and 23 years old. He is the cousin of the Minyard twins, and his parents are Luther and Maria Hemmick. Nicky is openly gay and proud, and his boyfriend of multiple years, Erik Klose, lives in Germany. Post-canon, Nicky stops playing Exy to move to Germany and in with Erik and gets a job working alongside Erik at a business firm before getting engaged and married, and adopting a dog together. Nicky is half Mexican, with light brown skin and shaggy almost-chin-length black hair and dark brown eyes. Due to Nicky and Erik’s long distance, they have come to an agreement that they can kiss other people, but do no more than that. Luckily, they stick together in the end because they’re very in love. Nicky is also a backliner, he is number 8 on the team. Both Luther and Maria, who were strict Christians, hated him for his sexuality. They still consider him a sinner and believe he has strayed far from God. They verbally abused him because of it when he was a child, possibly physically, though it was never confirmed or denied.

He was sent to conversion camp for six months to try and cure him when he was a teenager. While in that camp he very nearly killed himself and was horribly depressed. To get away from this bad familial situation, he took exchange classes for two years in Germany and stayed in a house with a family who took in exchange students, where he then met Erik, the caring son of the family. Nicky taught Erik more English than he already knew and taught him to speak fluently, and Erik taught him better German, and after a while of pining they got together. Nicky was uncomfortable and hesitant for a while because he believed everything his parents said about his sexuality, and often would escape to the nearest church in the middle of the night to pray for forgiveness about his “sinful thoughts” until Erik came looking for him, found him in the pews, and took him home. Eventually, Nicky forgave himself as much as he could and let himself be in a relationship with Erik, and it just got better from there. But when Tilda died, Nicky dropped the entire life he had built in Germany with Erik and moved back to America to take care of the twins. He was heartbroken to leave Erik but he loved his cousins more than anything. He treated them like his own kids and worked days and nights to pay for their house and food. He continued to love his cousins despite how badly they would treat him, often getting nasty homophobic remarks from Aaron or plain silence from Andrew. Nicky is sensitive, and struggled a lot with taking care of the twins, considering Aaron’s addiction, and Andrew’s violent stubbornness.

It was especially hard when he had to try and go about his day hearing Aaron yelling and sobbing in the bathroom in pain, because deep down he knew he needed to keep Aaron in there until he got better. It got more difficult when Andrew tried to protect Nicky and ended up in court, but he had Erik to call and talk to through it all. Nicky takes cracker dust with everyone else and dances drunk with Aaron and a couple others at Eden’s sometimes. Nicky, although he doesn’t have any romantic feelings for Neil, he is physically attracted to Neil and very open about that in the first book, often stating his attraction in sometimes predatory ways. It gets to the point where he holds Neil in his sleep (Neil does not know this until he wakes up with Nicky wrapped around him), makes out with him drunk despite Neil trying to push him away and telling him to stop, and says things like “Don’t let me get too drunk tonight,” while looking at Neil’s body, to which Andrew responds by holding a knife to Nicky’s stomach. As creepy as his actions were, he later gives an honest apology and Neil easily forgives him. It doesn’t take away what he did, but he understands now that it was bad.

More personal info: Nicky and Erik made a list of the five celebrities they’d each be allowed to hook up with if ever given the chance; Kevin Day, his own teammate, is #3 on Nicky’s list. Nicky is hyper and doesn’t know how to keep a secret (unless it’s genuinely very serious). Nicky can be quite sensitive but stands up for himself in the face of homophobia, unless it’s coming from his parents, where he tries to fight it before tucking his tail between his legs. Nicky is the reason the twins learned German in school. Nicky, although he takes Exy seriously and is a very talented athlete in the game, complains constantly while having to run laps. Nicky hates being alone in silence because it gives his thoughts a chance to catch up to him. Nicky covers up his lingering symptoms of depression with smiles and hyperactivity, though it gets especially hard when he’s really missing Erik.

Kevin Day -

He/him. Kevin is coach Wymack’s son, though he is the only one of the two who knows this until halfway through the third book when he finally decides to tell Wymack. not even the coach knew he had a son. He is 20 at the start of the trilogy and 21 by the end of the third book. Kevin is a striker, jersey number 2. Kevin is 6’1”. With dark hair and green eyes, Kevin is half Irish (thanks to his mother, Kayleigh Day), and half something else (thanks to Wymack).

Kayleigh Day invented the game of Exy before having a son. Kevin grew up with his mother and lived a good life until age five, when she was killed in a staged car crash. He was taken by the Moriyamas who staged the crash and was made to live alongside Riko and Nathaniel. Wymack got Kayleigh pregnant without knowing, and they didn’t stick together for long enough for him to find out, hence why he’s unaware of the fact he has a son. Riko, having the privilege of being the true son of the Moriyamas’ boss (and actually being very very talented at the sport) was given the title of number one. Kevin became known as number two, second best player ever under Riko. Riko was absolutely brutal on Kevin despite them being the same age. When they were teenagers, Riko forcefully tattooed a small number two onto Kevin’s left cheek to match the number one he put on his own face as a self absorbed act of control.

When Kevin was nineteen, Riko, in a fit of rage, broke Kevin’s dominant left hand. Kevin then left and signed with the PSU Foxes. He got an easy scholarship to attend school and play Exy at Palmetto State due to his talent and fame. Having joined the Foxes a year before the first book, he has taught himself to be ambidextrous to more easily play after his broken hand couldn’t heal properly due to lack of medical attention. Kevin has also created a lie to tell to the public when they ask about his hand; he says “I broke it in a skiing accident”. Kevin however didn’t leave all of the Raven’s behind, and is in a long term (and long-distance) relationship with one of their players, Thea Muldani. We don’t know much about her, as she only appears once, but what we do know is that she is an African American woman, often portrayed by fandom with long braids. The author said that later in their lives after the books, they marry and have a daughter. Whether their marriage is born out of true love or simply convenience, we still don’t truly know for sure. I vote for love because i like to be optimistic.

The author once said that although Kevin and Allison are not interested in eachother, if they had to hook up with someone else on the team with would be one another.

Kevin expects a lot from the rest of the team when it comes to their abilities on court. He takes Neil to the court practice late at night (like 10pm to 2am) and Andrew will come along 90% of the time just to watch from the bleachers and maybe once in a full moon join in as goalkeeper. Kevin believes Neil will make it to US court after college, he believes in his skills and abilities.

Kevin got in good with Andrew and his lot almost immediately after coming to PSU and Andrew became his bodyguard of sorts. They have a deal; Andrew will protect him from the Moriyamas no matter what unless Kevin asks him explicitly otherwise to break the deal. Although spending years with Neil when he was Nathaniel, Kevin does not recognize Neil as he’s older and under disguise. Kevin doesn’t realize that Neil is technically Nathaniel until Riko points it out (Riko knew the whole time of course) and mocks Neil for being the butcher’s son and Kevin hears and looks at Neil again and it clicks.

More random info: In earlier drafts of the books, Kevin Day was not dating Thea, and was instead actually dating both Neil and Andrew. A good chunk of the fandom headcanons Kevin Day as a repressed bisexual. The Foxes all know Kevin is really hardest on himself, that’s why they all let him push them to their limits on the court. Kevin Day is an alcoholic, but almost no one acknowledges it and it’s quite sad. It has become almost a joke now when it’s a genuinely serious issue. He most often drinks straight vodka.

Jean Moreau - [TW: heavy abuse, SA, suicide attempt]

French. Tall.

He/him. Jean is another one of the Ravens, 19 years old. Jean was born in Marseille, France. Jean is a backliner and jersey number 3 on the Edgar Allen Ravens. The Ravens’ dorm tower is called Castle Evermore, or more commonly, the nest. With pale skin, black hair, and gray eyes, Jean stands at 6’2”-6’3”. Jean, under Kevin, is Riko’s number three, meaning that he is in the inner circle with Kevin. Jean has a small number three tattooed under his cheek similarly with Riko and Kevin. Jean grew up in Marseille with his parents, but after they failed to pay off debts to the Moriyamas, they quickly decided to give up their only son as a replacement for the money. Without a second thought they gave up Jean when he was fourteen. Jean is a great Exy player, but due to Riko’s strict ratings of people, he’s deemed less worthy than Kevin. Jean’s partner, the Raven whom he must share classes and a room with, was named Zane. Jean has been tortured so much by Riko, it’s horrifying. Under Riko's supervision, Jean has broken six fingers (three that Riko made him break himself), was pushed down the Evermore stairs four times (bashing his head open two of those times), was waterboarded ten times for Riko's enjoyment, and was sexually assaulted five times by other Ravens under Riko's orders while Riko watched and sometimes helped restrain him. Riko didn't order a sixth time because the fifth time it happened, Jean gave up and didn’t protest, so Riko didn't find it amusing anymore. Jean was never given a single day to recover from these injuries before he had to be back on the court. One of the Ravens who assaulted him, Grayson Johnson, who was over eighteen at the time, had continued to hurt Jean after the first ordered assault.

Luckily, in the third book, Renee (another one of the foxes) sneaks into the Ravens tower and takes Jean from Evermore and brings him back to PSU, where he sleeps and recovers in the guest bed of the Foxes nurse, Abby. During his stay with Abby, he considers death by overdose on sleep medication, death by burning, and death in general. He is doing awful mentally, he has convinced himself that he is nothing if he’s not with the Ravens, that it is his place. He gets help becoming less pessimistic with Renee, who stays with him often.

In The Sunshine Court, Jean moves to LA, gets a scholarship in University of Southern California, and joins the USC Trojans. He moves in with team captain Jeremy Knox’s best friends and iconic lesbian couple Catalina Alvarez and Laila Dermott, later rooming with Jeremy when he stays with them once classes begin. After struggling with living without a partner, Jeremy offers his partnership to Jean, which he gratefully accepts. Jean grows close with the girlfriends, letting himself be taught how to cook and how to ride a motorcycle. He slowly learns to build trust with new people and find beauty in his life again. The Trojans help Jean through his trauma and Jeremy teaches Jean how to live and be a human. A ship between Jean/Jeremy is close to being confirmed and 100% expected as a definite thing to happen in the next and final book, though so far it’s just been tension.

More personal facts: Jean still speaks fluent French and has an accent, but Riko hated when anyone spoke a language he couldn’t understand and punished Jean if he heard him speak french. When Riko wasn’t in the room, Jean would teach Kevin French and they would speak to each other using it. While still in the nest, Jean had a solid plan to kill himself on graduation night. This plan was stopped when he was saved by Renee. The author said that the final draft was the only draft where he didn’t go through with that plan at the end of the book. In one of the late drafts, for this idea, he would have killed himself whilst on the phone with Kevin, traumatizing him more as well. The author said that Jean harbors some romantic feelings for Renee that are reciprocated, but Renee has a heartfelt conversation with a silent Jean saying that they’re the right people, but it’s the wrong time. Jean had a crush on Kevin while in the next and thought he was beautiful. It is unconfirmed whether or not Kevin knew about this and whether or not those feelings were reciprocated. Kevin knows Jean has had a crush on Jeremy for a long time now.

Riko Moriyama -

He/him. Japanese. Black hair, brown eyes. 5’5” in height. Kevin Day's “adoptive” brother. Son of Moriyamas’ boss. A striker on the Edgar Allen Ravens, jersey number one. Riko, alongside Kevin, is nicknamed “the son of Exy”. Riko was raised by his uncle, Tetsuji, in Castle Evermore. He was raised to only focus on becoming the greatest. Riko, Kevin, and Jean would have tutors come to them to teach them just so they didn’t have to leave Evermore for school. Riko was inseparable with Kevin throughout their youth, always on camera together. Riko has the number one tattooed on his left cheek, similarly to Kevin’s two and Jean’s three. Riko used a subtle form of control where he would never leave a Raven completely alone at any time. There were always at least two people in a room. This caused Jean great stress and discomfort when he was left alone in his guest room at Abby’s. Riko, as a result of the abuse he himself endured as a child, grew up to inflict the same on the rest of his team. Riko is a narcissist with a god complex, the number on his face symbolizing his supposed greatness as the best player in the history of Exy. Riko would make the team practice until they literally dropped like flies, passing out, and not letting them take breaks no matter the extent of their inflicted injuries.

After the highly anticipated Ravens vs Foxes Exy game at the end of book three, the Foxes won after no one ever having beaten the Ravens before. After a conversation with Neil, Riko’s brother, Ichirou, decided Riko was just a complicated nuisance who didn’t have any benefit and only made things worse. So he called a meeting at Evermore tower with both Riko and Neil, and had Neil watch as he shot his own brother, Riko in the head. He then placed the gun in Riko’s hand, leaving the rest of the world to believe it was a suicide, burdening Neil with the confidential information about the real cause of his death.

One extra fact: Riko speaks fluent Japanese and taught Kevin and Jean, too.

Natalie Renee Walker - [TW: SA]

She/her. Birth name Natalie Shields, most commonly referred to as Renee, Renee stands at 5’4” with white chin length hair dyed in pastel rainbow colors at the tips. Her race is mostly unspecified though she is almost always portrayed as having pale skin. She is 24 years old in book one. She is the Foxes other goalkeeper, jersey number 09. She rarely wears makeup and when she does it’s very little. She dresses in non revealing, more conservative clothes. Aside from on the court, she is otherwise always seen wearing a delicate silver cross necklace. When Renee was ten years old, her father murdered her mother. Renee ran away and was lured into joining a street gang. She slowly proved herself and went up the ranks, because she had nowhere else to run to and devoted herself to her life in the gang. After a short matter of years, she got into a violent conflict with a fellow member of the gang who had been sexually assaulting her and other girls before her. She knew he would continue on with other girls if she didn’t stop him. She knew the man’s favored weapon was the knife, so she practiced on her own knifing skills and eventually used the learned skills to kill the man in a physical fight. Unable to hide the death of a member, the gang found out about why she murdered him, and the gang leader didn’t get angry. He actually raised her status even more and played it off to the man’s family as if he was murdered by a member of a rival gang.

One day she was caught by the police on the streets for drugs, and put in the foster care system. She was soon adopted by a kind and supportive woman named Stephanie Walker who introduced Renee to Christianity and the sport of Exy, ultimately saving Renee’s life. Playing Exy became an outlet for Renee. She quickly deemed herself a Christian. In high school, her and future Foxes teammate Dan had a long-standing rivalry due to being captains of two rival Exy teams, and continued the rivalry for a little while after being recruited to the Foxes by Wymack. They eventually decided to be civil in order to hold their ground alongside Foxes teammate Allison against the sexist men on the first Foxes team lineup. By the time book one begins, all aspects of their rivalry are long gone and they are kind with one another. Upon attending PSU, Renee decided to major in Religious Studies. Despite her calm and careful demeanor, she is actually Andrew’s best friend on the team, though Andrew would never admit that to anyone else besides her. She says that although her religion won’t allow her to see everything eye-to-eye with Andrew, she respects and understands him more than anyone (other than Neil. She stays out of fights among the Foxes other than to try and mediate and deescalate the situation. She’s often referred to as a “sweetheart” by various members of the Foxes.

More random facts: Renee and Andrew are sparring partners and will spar with each other when Andrew is upset. Renee is never seen drinking in any of the books, likely due to her religious ideals. Renee loves orchestral and classical music. Post-Canon, Renee joins the Peace Corps, where she meets fellow volunteer Emilio, whom she falls in love with and has children with, the youngest of whom having the name Patrick. There are bets among the Foxes that Andrew and Renee are seeing each other in secret, mainly fueled by their close friendship and Renee asking Andrew to the Winter Exy Banquet as friends in book two, though she makes a promise to Allison that she will never date him, even explicitly telling Neil in book one that she “doesn’t date heathens”. After getting arrested, Renee’s father was soon killed in prison.

Danielle Leigh Wilds -

She/her. Usually referred to simply as Dan, she stands at 5’4”-5’7” with brown eyes and short brown hair that never goes longer than her ears. She is African American, age 21-22, and PSU Foxes Offensive Dealer, jersey number 01. She is assistant captain of the Foxes Exy team, under Wymack. She is very passionate about the people she cares about and refuses to tolerate people talking bad about the team. She is strict on the team, but in the way that she just wants them to cooperate (not kill each other) and work their hardest. Growing up, Dan lived in a mobile home with her usually pregnant Aunt, Cathey Wilds, and her Aunt’s children. To pay off their debts and keep from being homeless, Dan purchased a fake ID in high school and worked as a stripper. Her stage name was “Hennessy” and she had such a close relationship with her fellow strippers that she still refers to them as her sisters. Cathey had many men she would take home often, and when Wymack shows up at her home to recruit her, she quickly comes to the conclusion that he is there to sleep with Cathey, before he shoots her down and tells her his true intentions. She is initially in disbelief because she had been told that women do not get recruited for Exy. She was the first woman to be on an NCAA Exy team, and for this the public despised the Foxes even more than they already had (they were considered the worst team in the league) and her misogynistic male teammates insulted her openly. But she was very talented and the rest of the team eventually fell behind her. When the cousins arrive at PSU and join the Foxes, they take Dan to Eden’s to test her loyalty and she gains their trust/respect. Dan initially does not want to join a relationship because she feels targeted by the nasty looks men give her as everyone knows of her past in sex work, but then Matt joins PSU and the Foxes, and after a long time of gaining trust and building friendship, they fell in love. They have a very healthy romantic and sexual relationship, often sharing fierce hugs and kisses on the court after successful games.

More personal facts: Dan sees Wymack as a father figure. She did not like Allison for a long time, but without realizing it, they became close friends and the three girls shared a dorm. Dan treats Renee’s bruises and cuts after sparring with Andrew. Dan admires Neil’s hard work and, post-canon, makes him the next team captain after her graduation. Post-canon, Dan and Matt marry and have children together. Dan does not have a good relationship with the cousins or Kevin, and considers Andrew to be psychotic, although treating him an equal member of the team while on the court. It isn’t until the third book when she’s able to hold a civil conversation with Nicky. But despite her dislike of them, she is rarely overly nasty to them and supports their athletic career. Dan majored in Athletic Training and minored in Coaching.

Matthew Donovan Boyd - [TW: substance abuse]

He/him. 21 years old. Most commonly referred to as Matt. Standing at 6’4”-6’5” with Black gel-spiked hair, brown eyes, and chocolatey brown skin, Matt is a PSU Backliner, jersey number 04. He’s mostly seen with the girls, but upon Neil’s arrival he starts to consider him his best friend. Matt grew up in New York and his parents, Randy and Donald, split up when he was young. Randy, his mother, is a boxer with an irregular schedule which means Matt lives only with Donald, his father, who is a doctor. With Randy’s absence, Donald falls into a dangerous party scene involving drugs and alcohol, and encourages young Matt to join in and take part with him. Because of this, Matt becomes addicted to both cocaine and heroin at a young age, but upon Randy’s return, she decides to stay for a while to rehabilitate him. She taught him how to box and play Exy as a distraction, and over this time they bonded. When Matt is recruited to the PSU Foxes, he struggles to stay clean, and Randy administers Andrew’s help in getting Matt to stay sober. This is done by Andrew, the other cousins, and Kevin, taking Matt to Eden’s and giving him Speedball (a strong drug which consists of a combination of Heroin and Cocaine which is then injected into the skin). Matt suffers greatly from the near-fatal drug and almost dies. This scared him straight, showing Matt the true danger he was in and he quit once and for all. Randy took more time off of work to help him recover during this. Matt, although not happy about how it went down, does not hold a grudge towards Andrew for this as he understands that it helped him and he would be dead without the intervention.

More personal info: Nicky thinks Matt is physically attractive. Matt is buff and built strong but his personality is friendly and he’s the teddy bear of the group. He owns a large blue truck that Neil, Renee, and Allison ride in the bed of during Summer practices. Matt majored in Business Administration. The first time Donald met Neil in the third book, he rudely suggested that Neil have plastic surgery done on his face. Matt has faded but obvious track marks on the insides of both his arms.

Allison Jamaica Reynolds - [TW: ED]

She/her. Age 21-22. Allison is a PSU Foxes Defensive Dealer, jersey number 07. Standing 5’4”-5’7”, Allison is white with long platinum blonde hair and smokey-gray eyes. She often curls her hair. She often wears elaborate makeup and her closet is entirely designer clothes. She is proud and not stingy with money. She was a former heiress to the extremely wealthy Reynolds family, who is rich from owning luxury resorts and worth billions, who cut her off after she chose Exy over the family business. She was disowned and removed from the will. Before and during the first book, Allison is in an on-again off-again relationship with teammate Seth Gordon. She loves gossip, especially revolving around romance. Allison grew up with a severe case of bulimia and was hospitalized for it as a teen. She has since fully recovered as much as possible, with Wymack’s help.

More personal info: Allison enjoys modern pop music. Nicky once called Allison a “catty bitch”. Allison’s best friend is Renee, and although a good chunk of the fandom ships them, the author confirmed that they are just close friends. Allison drives a pink convertible. Allison majored in Fashion Design and minored in Marketing. Post-canon, Allison created and owns her own line of Fashion and makes a lot of money off of it. Post-canon, Allison loves dressing Neil in nice clothes.

Bryan Seth Gordon - [TW: substance abuse, implied suicide]

He/him. Age 24. Usually only referred to as Seth. Standing at 6’-6’2”, his appearance is almost entirely unspecified. There are many different head canons on what he looks like. A fairly common one, and my own personal one, is picturing him as white with a buzzed haircut and sharp cheekbones. Seth was a striker, jersey number 06. Born in Birmingham, Alabama, Seth was the fourth of seven sons to parents Bryan and Rebecca, who never married. He was named after his father. When Seth was eight years old, his father left, hence his mother switching to calling him solely by his middle name. Rebecca worked three jobs and his older siblings raised him, but were very troubled and not good replacement parents. Seth was a problem child, and began playing Exy in fifth grade. He grew very close to his fifth grade teacher Mrs. Everetts and her husband, spending many nights having dinner with them, until they moved and “abandoned” him with no warning whatsoever. Between them and his father, when he joined the Foxes, Seth always believed that Wymack was bound to leave him too. Seth is clinically depressed and struggles with drug use. At the start of the books, Seth is the only male member left from the original PSU Foxes Exy lineup. Seth dislikes everyone on the team except for his on-and-off girlfriend, Allison.

He dislikes Neil from their first meetup and refuses to talk to him until Neil scores a goal against Andrew. Seth and Allison’s relationship is not all that healthy, and they have never dated for more than a few months at a time. Their first hook-up took place before the first book, and what happened was that they had gone to a frat party off campus and a man had tried to assault Allison and she had been too drunk to react, before Seth pushed the guy off and carried Allison back to her house and laying her in bed before settling on her couch. They hooked up the day after. When they are dating, they are sweet and just fine, but during the times when they’re not, they’re nasty and insulting towards each other. When they’re fighting, Seth tends to take time away and hang out with Matt. An incident at the end of book one occurs, and Seth is killed by Riko’s doing. It is staged as a suicide by drug overdose, he’s found laying on the dorm bathroom floor choked and drowned to death with his own vomit, but the Foxes have their suspicions as to what really happened. Allison keeps his ashes in an urn and is a mess for the following couple weeks. She eventually has his urn built into the fountain in her front yard.

More personal facts: Seth hated the effect that fame has on a person and said “I’m not worth less just because I’m less talented,”. Seth was majoring in Park, Recreation, and Tourism Management. Seth hated Nicky the most for his sexuality but also despised Kevin for his fame and frequently got into physical fights with the both of them, spewing insults and slurs. Seth was disgusted by the idea of Andrew and Renee becoming a couple due to how much he hated Andrew. Seth was easily provoked, and had a bad temper. Neil assumed his mood swings are the result of drug use. Seth was one of Neil’s roommates in the dorms in book one.

Erik Klose -

He/him. Erik has short dirty blonde hair and, (in my personal opinion bc he’s very lightly described), light stubble on his face. Assumed to be around age 24. Nicky’s eventual husband. They are so in love and it's very sad how they have to be an ocean apart for so long. Erik and Nicky frequently engage in facetime sex on their laptops. Nicky calls from his room in the Columbia house after nights spent at Eden’s with the team, Erik calls from his apartment in Germany. We know this both because Nicky is very open about his sex life. Erik is mostly fluent in English but most always speaks in German unless necessary otherwise. Erik and Nicky mot of the time only speak to each other in German. Erik grew up in a Christian family and continues to love God, but he grew up with the kind of religious family that believes homosexuality isn’t unnatural or a sin. Erik helped Nicky be comfortable with his sexuality and his religion. Nicky still loves God and himself now because of Erik’s support. Erik also helped Nicky recover from his severe depression and suicidal thoughts that occurred following conversion camp.

David Vincent Wymack - [TW: substance abuse]

He/him. Wymack grew up with a violent and angry father. As an adult, he vowed to make his Exy team a safe sanctuary for troubled young adults. His trauma caused him to become a borderline alcoholic and angry, but he makes it clear in the first book that even though he likes to yell and throw things, he will never, ever, hurt anyone without being provoked. His race is unspecified but most, including me, headcanon him as Native American for various reasons. Wymack has tribal flame tattoos on both his forearms. He cares for all the Foxes more than he’d ever say out loud, he cares for them like children. He’s hurt when he learns that Kevin is his son, because he realizes that his own son was getting abused and harmed throughout his childhood (by Riko) and he had no idea and couldn’t help him. Wymack is one of the first people to catch onto Andrew’s physical attraction to Neil, but he just says “this is below my paygrade” and inwardly groans to himself. His father was an alcoholic and started the genetic train of alcoholism that still affects Wymack and Kevin. Wymack’s step father tried to kill his mother, which landed him in prison.

Abigail Marie Winfield -

She/her. Most commonly referred to as Abby. Her appearance is mostly unstated aside from a blonde mid-length ponytail. She is the Foxes Exy team nurse, and Wymack’s former assigned therapist. She is kind and sweet but confident and will not hesitate to order someone around. Abby makes Nicky stop Andrew from drinking while on his meds, but Nicky isn’t great at enforcing this. When she does her first required physical on Neil in the first book, despite reassuring Neil by saying that she’s “seen worse”, she is obviously shocked by the excessive scars on his body. During the cousins’ first year at PSU, she housed the three and Kevin at her place off-campus. The Foxes have bets that Abby and Wymack are sleeping together due to them interacting a lot, Wymack making the passcode to the court Abby’s birthdate, and other various small things. This is confirmed in book three, and they are in a romantic relationship that lasts the rest of their lives. She has motherly instincts and pretty much thinks of the Foxes as her kids.

Betsy Jo Dobson -

She/her. Commonly nicknamed “Bee” by Andrew. Commonly agreed upon that Betsy has pale brown hair that goes to her chin, and she has relatively pale skin and a pudgier build. She has laugh lines on her face and wears narrow-rimmed glasses. She is the PSU Foxes team psychiatrist and the only therapist Andrew has ever trusted. When Andrew was put on his meds, he was assigned court-ordered weekly therapy sessions. He has never trusted or liked a therapist in the past and it started that way with Bee, but after he noticed that she treated him with more humanity and was a more favorable personality to him, he started to open up and now he tells her everything. At the start of every session, she makes both Andrew and herself a mug of hot chocolate with mini marshmallows. She has a collection of glass animal figurines on her laptop stand that Andrew buys for her as an apology because during their first meeting he broke the ones she had by knocking them off her laptop stand and throwing them at the wall to see how she would react and felt guilty when she stayed completely calm and didn’t get angry with him. He continues buying her more every time he finds one she doesn’t have. It’s required for everyone on the team to see her at least once a semester, though they can schedule an appointment any time. Betsy previously worked in counseling at juvenile detention centers until she got her job at PSU. In juvie, she worked mainly on suicide watch. Betsy has OCD and her office is very neat and orderly. She is close friends with both Abby and Wymack. Neil does not trust Betsy because he does not trust therapists in general. He is, however, entirely supportive of Andrew’s relationship with her and understands that he needs her sometimes.

Zane Reacher - [SA]

Zane, with an unknown age and appearance, was Jean’s partner in the nest. When you had a partner at Evermore, whether you hated them or not, it was required to share your classes and strictly on-campus dorm room with them. Zane desperately wanted to make number 4 on Riko’s perfect court, directly behind Jean. Zane, fully aware of the sexual abuse Riko was inflicting on Jean, tried to protect him from it although he could not fully stand in the way of it without violent repercussions. He quickly learned about Grayson’s perseverance, understanding why he frequently showed up to their room at night, and he despised him for it. He and Jean had an agreement where Zane would try to keep Grayson away from Jean as much as he could. However, in a turn of events, Zane made the jealously-fueled selfish decision to turn his back and keep quiet when Grayson came to their room the next time, just telling Jean to keep it down. Fell in love with Raven teammate Clarissa, despite extreme hardships when it came to romance in the Nest.

Jeremy Knox -

Jeremy Knox is 23 years old. Shaggy caramel hair, white and tan from the SoCal sun, 6’1”.

Jeremy strongly dislikes being reminded of his last name, for reasons currently unknown. Jeremy’s parents are divorced and he lives in a large house with his mother, congressman stepfather who he separates himself from as much as possible, his sister Annalise, and his older brother Brayden whom he avoids at all costs. It is implied he has another sibling, though he refuses to discuss this even in his own point of view for similar unknown reasons. He also refuses to talk about a supposed incident at his first fall Banquet for which he was the subject of many vague rumors. Jeremy is gay, and it's implied that he has only had quick hookups in the past, no genuinely romantic relationships. On the outside, Jeremy is sunshine on Earth, just a very silly guy. A very silly guy who avoids cops like the plague for more related unknown reasons. We will learn much more about his very ominous past in TSC2.

One extra fact: It is confirmed that Jeremy is a service top.

Jack & Sheena -

you may hear these names sometimes in the fandom. these are two characters only mentioned in the author’s extra content. they are future Foxes, becoming part of the team when Neil is captain. very angry, very homophobic people. always trying to get a rise out of Neil, Jack with his snarky comments and Sheena with her sharp laugh like a hyena. you won’t usually see their names ever except for in fanfiction (same as below).

Robin -

again, another future Foxes member as described by the author’s extra content. Robin had a rough childhood growing up in captivity. when she joins the Foxes she becomes an honorary part of The Monsters (see below). She becomes a close friend of Neil’s when Andrew graduates and she helps Neil feel less alone. i like to forget she exists a lot not because i don’t like her but just because i don’t have really any feelings about her existence.

The Monsters -

the group name for Andrew, Aaron, Kevin, Neil, Nicky. the ones that go to Eden’s and Columbia together.

[fangirlingpuggle]

Bleach fic prompt/AU (though mostly Aishin) where after his plans started but before the turn the pendulum arc Aizen knows there will decades before his plans can go further so as he can't do anything and everything is already set in motion in the background he creates an illusionary personality to take control so he doesn't have to go through the motions and a total innocent version will just make his alibi's easier and no one will suspect him once he takes back over.

So for decades there's an Aizen who is actually good and gets along with people having friends and not just on surface level and caring for people, and he is of course head of heels for Shinji (No megalomania or layers upon layers of denial). Shinji is of course so very confused and very deep in denial that he is also smitten because he knows Aizen is evil and panning something and a liar and he doesn't know what he's planning and why he's acting odd, but he can't trust him. He keep s reminding himself of this constantly (it doesn't always work)

And everything is going fine until the original personality under the 'illusion' starts to try and take control back except this good Aizen isn't just an illusion the complete hypnosis created a real personality a real person. He's not letting the other take back control, he's trying to fight back.

Except he's acting different now trying to fight a megalomaniac, evil mastermind personality trying to get control and Shinji can tell somethings up only he pushes aside his worry and goes into 'See still evil, he's planning something he's a liar he's lying about something, he's never been different'. This creates an opening for the original Aizen who can point out how Shinji has never seen either of them as different he still thinks he;s evil he doesn't see you he just sees me.

Original Aizen is able to take back over and... no one notices everyone see's there's something a bit off but he seems fine it's ok, and Shinji of course is convincing himself that he was right Aizen is liar whatever that was was a trick, even if a part of him doesn't believe it and knows somethings off.

Then 3 options

Angtsy option: Everything happens as canon and it's only years later when somehow through Urahara experiment bullshit they realize 2 different Aizen's... by the time they confront they're faced with realization when original Aizen took back over the new personality was destroyed.

Angst with happy ending option: When Aizen gets the hogyoku, it realizes oh two people in here finds the remnants of the other personality that's been locked away by Aizen and is like 'hey what do you want?'. Cue other version splitting from Aizen with own body in middle of fight and everyone is confused. Then the angst that no one realized he was different or saw the change and all the mistrust. Also in denial pinning Shinji. (More angst potential if the other Aizen had been aware the entire time seeing everything but unable to take nay control)

More funny version: When Aizen is tuning them in Vizards he decides to reveal about what happened cue Shinji crisis but also 'Oh thank the soul king i'm not in love with this evil son of a bitch ok I can stop repressing feelings' and then after they escape the plan is 'kick evil Aizen's ass get our friend back'. When they show up to the battle Shinji has flowers, chocolates and a card saying 'Sorry I didn't realize your evil other self took back over' with chappy on it. (He also has a ring because he's been pining for years, the others tried to take it off hi because fucking hell man let the man have a day... and probably a therapy session or two first)

Sorry if this is dumb I am so very tired.

[overtaken-stream]

Hey! I read and loved your Mitsui headcanon (practicing with his s/o)! I was wondering if you could write one abt comforting his s/o after being scared by some delinquents around town?

Ignore the goofy pic, please. I am so happy to hear that you enjoyed my mitsui hcs. He is a character I didn't know what to think about at first, but asks help me delve into him a bit deeper, which I'm grateful for. Anyway, I hope you like this one too!!

At first, his thoughts are riddled with the past, Mitsui's history as a delinquent might have been short when compared to others, but that doesn't carry any weight when it comes to gangs and groups of delinquents, whose members Mitsui had definitely messed with. It sets off more than one alarm, which he finds incredibly annoying since his past actions always seem to catch up to him. He can't thank Hotta enough for backing him up during these times and helping him separate ties he alone can't cut from the shadows. Mitsui owes him so much.

However, after that split-second thinking session, Mitsui's instinct is to get closer to your frame. He has never been good at comforting others, but now, even with awkward angles, he tries to soothe the tears that might be spilling out or to stop the over-beating of your heart and the shake of your hands.

His hands are bigger than yours, wider and longer but still slimmer as they linger on your digits.

He stands in front of you and brings up an arm over your shoulder. The action lets you fall into his embrace, and Mitsui can not even look down at your head as his sense of responsibility weights down on his shoulders. Yet he doesn't stop his body from folding itself over you, feeling your tears on his shoulder as he brings safety by hugging.

Mitsui is glad you've informed this to him, since you trust him enough that instead of going home and suffering the burden alone, you decided to share it with him and come to his house after the whole ordeal. It makes him feel happy how you trust and view him, but also incredibly guilty, since he might be at fault.

By the time exhaustion chips away your shivers and cries on the couch, putting you peacefully asleep on his chest, Mitsui already knows what he has to do the next morning as he wraps his arms tighter around you. By the way, his blood boils at the small details you've shared with him about the punks and your experience. It's not going to be pretty.

[mirisss]

Chapter 8

Wordcount ≈ 3.1k

Warnings: anxiety, exercising (dancing + warming up), self-doubt, self-hate, angst, reader being a bit mean to herself (thoughts), almost fainting, mentions of the possibility someone will hit reader, food, eating, mentions of past abuse against (Y/n), 

I apologize for the long wait for this chapter, I’ve been swamped during summer with work and I got my driver's license but now I’m back again! The wait became even longer as I got hit with writer's block. I still hope you enjoy this chapter! 

Taglist: @ayoo-bangtan​, @lose-lose07​, @kingcarrot-thecarrotking​, @starjane312​​, @reighlee-greaves​​, @hi-39024, @queenmea604​, @septicrebel​, @justayoungandwisefangirl​, @imasimplol​,  @k-p0p-4ever, @detectivedoodle​, hehe-24-hehe,  let me know if you wanna be added!

Please reblog!

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 9, 

Italics are thoughts

(Y/n)’s POV

After we had finished eating, Seungmin and I regrouped with the others before, once again, splitting up as the members had some different schedules up until lunch. “Have you decided who you wanna go with for now, (Y/n)?” Changbin asked while we all began walking to the elevators. “Yeah, I decided to go with Danceracha up until lunch and after that, we’ll see,” “Yes! We got (Y/n)!” Felix exclaimed happily making some of the employees around us look at him with weird looks before they returned to what they did previously. “Alright, Changbin and I’s meeting should be over around 2 pm, maybe a little later. Do you think the rest of you will be ready for lunch by then or sooner or later?” “I can’t really say for us, it depends on how many changes we wanna do to the choreo and how long it takes us to learn it,” Minho answered Bang Chan, it sounded a bit complicated but I think seeing them dance will be a lot of fun. “Our vocal training with the coach is scheduled between 9.00 am to 1.30 pm, so we should be done by 2 unless we run over too but I don’t think we will as the coach is on a very strict schedule,” Seungmin said, he was apparently the one who had booked the training session so of course he was the one who knew all the details. “Mm, okay. Well, when the three of you are done with your vocal training, why don’t you stop by the dance studio and see how it’s going for Danceracha, if they seem to be running late, bring (Y/n) with you and meet up with us for lunch. Minho, Hyunjin, and Felix will just have to eat later unless the other choreographers want to eat too so you can take a break,” “Yeah, that sounds good to us, how about for you (Y/n)?” “Oh, yeah, that’s fine, Jinnie,” “Great, we’ll see you later. We have to go now or we’re gonna be late,” And with that, the group split up. 

Minho took my hand and led me into an elevator with Hyunjin and Felix following us. They guided me to a big room with an entire wall made up of mirrors, in one corner there was a small-ish black couch, and beside the couch, there was something that seemed like a computer - probably where they controlled what song played in the speakers. I looked around the room with awe, it had a somewhat cozy feeling as I turned back to the mirrors and saw how the three dancers were looking at me with love-filled eyes and sweet smiles. “Want to warm up with us, (Y/n)?” Hyunjin asked as Minho walked over to the computer and began typing away. “I don’t know how,” “That’s fine! We usually follow one another, today it’s Hyunjin’s turn to lead the warm-up so all you need to do is face the mirror and imitate Hyunjin’s movements, and if you struggle with anything you can ask any of us for help, but really all you need to do is try your best,” Felix said as he came over and put his hands gently on my shoulders before shaking me lightly to make me smile. “Okay, I’ll try!” “Great, let’s start then. In 30 minutes the choreographer is coming so we need to be ready by then. Jinnie the floor is yours,” Minho said, using a tone I was unfamiliar with, it was stern, leaving no room for arguments. 

Hyunjin faced the mirrors just like the rest of us, though he was standing a few steps in front of us, I stood beside Felix, watching Hyunjin’s reflection in the mirror carefully. “Have fun, (Y/n)!” “Hm!” I nodded my head before focusing on Hyunjin once again. Minho took out his phone and hit play and a second later music filled the room and Hyunjin began moving, with the rest of us following his lead. Minho and Felix had no problem keeping up but I struggled a bit, the other two probably knew what movements would follow one another, I, however, did not. But as I remembered what Felix said before we started I began calming down and stopped focusing on all the mistakes I made and rather focused on just having fun as I tried to keep up with Danceracha. After warming up for 15 minutes I was sweating like crazy and I was very tired, my vision was becoming a bit blurry, and my movements were slower. “Hey stop! (Y/n)’s about to faint,” Felix shouted alerting everyone, even myself, of my swaying body and my weak legs. Felix quickly stepped closer to me before he gently hooked his arm around my waist and helped me walk over to the couch in the corner of the room. Minho and Hyunjin went to get some water and towels. With just over 10 minutes left before they had to meet with the choreographer, and I was taking up their time. This is why no one likes you. This is why no one wants you. An angry, dark voice resonated inside my head. The voice made me shrink back into my shy and shut-off self, I couldn’t look at Felix, I knew he would be angry, I should have been able to do this, hybrids are supposed to be good at exercises, but I’m not. “Hey, (Y/n). Are you okay? Does anything hurt? Can you see me? Are your eyes okay?” His voice was silky smooth, deep, and warm, it was filled with worry and love. He doesn’t actually care. If you look at him you know he’ll hit you. “(Y/n), please, look up at me?” Run away, he doesn’t want you. They don’t want you. They hate you. You’re a waste of space. Felix gently put one of his hands on my chin and then lightly tilted it upward so my eyes would meet his, I froze as soon as my eyes met his. His eyes were full of worry, adoration, love, fright, and anxiety, no matter how hard I searched for any feeling of hatred, I could find nothing alike it. It’s all fake. “Are you okay?” “I, -” My voice cracked as I just noticed how dry my throat was both from the exhaustion but also from the anxiety the evil voice brought with it. I broke out in a small coughing fit as I tried to catch my breath. “It’s okay, look at me, you’re fine, (Y/n), I’m here. Minho-hyung will be back in a few seconds with some water for you,” As soon as Felix had said it, Minho came jogging back into the room with four water bottles in his hands, closely followed by Hyunjin who had some towels in his arms. “Here,” Minho said as he handed a water bottle to Felix who opened it before giving it to me. I gladly took it and gulped down half the bottle, soothing my sore throat. “Feeling better now?” Felix asked as he took the water bottle from me, closing it before taking a towel from Hyunjin’s arms. He unfolded it and carefully patted it against my forehead, wiping away my sweat. “ I’m sorry,” “Why are you sorry? (Y/n), you don’t have to apologize,”

“I ruin everything,” “(Y/n), I’m sorry but I’m going to raise my voice a bit right now. You don’t ruin everything. Anyone can faint when exercising, you don’t mean any less to us because of this, we are the ones to blame because we should have thought about the possibility of this happening. This is not your fault. It could just as likely have been me or any of the others who fainted. We all love you, so so so much, nothing would change that. Okay? Listen to me, WE LOVE YOU” I was startled as Felix raised his voice at me, he wasn’t screaming but he was speaking significantly louder than he ever had before around me. Usually, something like this would have me shivering and crying, yet with Felix my eyes were locked with his, I was frozen as I listened to his warm voice as I saw the tears escaping from his eyes. There was nothing but sincerity in his voice. Minho and Hyunjin had walked out of the room shortly before this to stop the choreographer from stepping inside before Felix and I had calmed down. I could hear their voices as they conversed outside the door, joined by an unfamiliar voice that I assumed belonged to the choreographer. “Please, (Y/n). Don’t put yourself down, we love you, I love you, so please, please love yourself, if not for your sake for ours,” I slowly moved my hand up to his face and wiped away the tears that had streaked his cheeks. “I’ll try, for you,” Felix enveloped me in a warm hug before he took a deep breath and calmed down from his crying.We sat there, our arms encircled around each other, as we were shaking from crying, sniffling, and trying to calm down from what just happened. “Please (Y/n), please believe me when I say that we love you,” I couldn’t answer him verbally so I opted to just give him a tighter squeeze before I let go of him and moved back a tiny bit. I shakily put my hand on his cheek and wiped away some of his tears with my thumb. Felix took a deep breath before wiping away my tears too. “I have to get ready now, we can’t keep the choreographer waiting any longer,” “I’ll just stay here so that you guys can focus,” “(Y/n), you wouldn’t be in the way,” “I know, but I still feel shaky, I don’t think I can stand up just yet,” “Are you sure you want to stay here then? You don’t want to go to some of the others?” “I’m sure, I want to see you and Minho and Hyunjin dance,” “Okay, bunny. Just let us know if you need anything,” “I promise,” “Good,” Felix gave me a kiss on my forehead before he stood up and walked over to the door to let Minho and Hyunjin back inside. 

15 minutes later and I finally stopped feeling nauseous and shaky. My eyes were locked solidly onto the way that Danceracha was moving. The smoothness, the precision, the look in their eyes, it was mesmerizing. “With this move, I would prefer if we could do it like this,” Minho said as he showed what he meant, the choreographer watched closely before discussing it further with Minho going back and forth until they reached a move they were both happy with. All three of them glanced back at me every now and then, when they saw that I was watching them they just smiled and looked away again. Soon a few hours had passed and it was time for lunch, to me though, it felt like only a few minutes had passed from the moment I shared with Felix, as we both cried, holding each other. “Come on, let’s meet up with the others,” Hyunjin said as he waved me over with a tired but happy smile on his lips. Danceracha looked exhausted, quite frankly they reeked of sweat but they had been dancing none stop for a few hours. “Weren’t Han, Seungmin, and Jeongin supposed to stop by when their training was over?” “Yeah, they should be coming any second, it’s only 1.35 pm. The vocal room they had booked is five floors above this one so it takes a few minutes to walk between them,” Felix answered as he tenderly took one of my hands into his before leading me to the door. After we had stepped outside my nose picked up the familiar scent of the youngest Stray Kid.

“Hyungs! (Y/n)! Hi!” “Ya, Innie, you’re not supposed to scream right after training,” Jeongin just turned and gave Seungmin a playful glare in return before he continued smiling and jogging in my direction. “Hi” I waved to the three of them. Seeing them run and smile, being so carefree and happy, it made me feel like maybe there is hope for me too, that one day I can be freed from all of my worries, from my past. As long as I stay with them, as long as I’m with my family I’ll be fine. No more being alone. No more darkness. “How was it? Watching dance practice?” Jisung asked once he too caught up with us. I looked at Danceracha, pondering over whether or not I should tell the others about my accident. “It was fun, I wish I could dance like them,” Minho looked at me, understanding my decision of not telling them yet, or I think he did because he began talking about something else as he began walking toward the elevators with the rest of us following. Seungmin walked beside Felix and me, he tenderly took my free hand into his as we were walking. It wasn’t until he did that that I realized just how cold my hands were, when Felix took my hand into his I didn’t think about the heat difference as Felix had just been dancing for a long time but Seungmin had not and his hand almost felt like it was on fire compared to mine. “Wow, did you take a trip to the North Pole? Your hands are so cold!” Seungmin proclaimed as he laughed. “Oh, I didn’t even think about it, holy, (Y/n), we need to get you some tea or some hot chocolate to warm you up,” As the two began fussing over me Minho looked back, surely after he heard them speak of my icy hands. His eyes spoke so loudly, as he stared into mine, he knew I was cold after the panic attack, even if I had calmed down and wasn’t crying anymore, my unconscious mind hadn’t let it go just yet, it had pretty much shut down.  “I’m sure she’ll be fine after she gets some food, we all need it so come on, let’s move it, Chan-hyung and Changbin are waiting for us by the cafeteria, their meeting ended a little earlier than they thought it would,” Chan had apparently texted Minho that info just now, I didn’t even notice him checking his phone. 

After arriving at the cafeteria we quickly found Chan and Changbin, they had taken a large table so we could all sit together this time. We ordered our food and then Minho told Chan, and the others, about what happened in the dance studio. Everyone looked worried but they were happy nothing worse happened. “Maybe it would be best for you (Y/n) if you went home to rest for the rest of the day. You’ve experienced a lot today and maybe we shouldn’t hurry this exposure too much or things like this will happen. We need to gradually expose you to our hectic schedules. If you want I can come home with you,” “What about the meetings?” “Changbin can handle them, the hardest one is finished already, the last one is just for the name of the album and we’ve never had a problem with those meetings before, besides Changbin has handled meetings like this alone other times too,” “I’m actually feeling quite worn out so maybe going home would be best,” “Uh, hyung, actually, I don’t think I can take this next meeting on my own,” “Huh? Why not?” “They changed the schedule, the album name meeting is tomorrow, and after lunch, we have the meeting regarding the music videos,” Bang Chan let out a loud sigh, he looked really annoyed, but I wasn’t scared of him, because I knew he wasn’t upset with me, and he isn’t like my previous owners, he wouldn’t hit me. “Ugh, why do they change the schedule every time? We always put it like this, then they change it only to switch back to OUR original schedule… ugh. Well, (Y/n), sorry that means I can’t take you home,” Chan looked at me, he looked disappointed. “It’s okay. I think I can just rest on the couch in the dance studio, don’t worry,” “I could take her home, we don’t have that much left to go over for the dances so the part I miss Minho-hyung and Lixie can teach me tomorrow,” “As long as it’s okay with Minho and Felix, it’s okay with me, you know I rarely but in regarding the dances, that’s Minho’s responsibility,” Chan said the last part as he chuckled because Minho gave him a fake annoyed glare. “Mm, take the bunny home, make sure she gets some rest,” “I will,” Hyunjin gave me a smile before we all continued eating our lunches. 

After we all had finished eating Hyunjin called their driver to come and pick the two of us up and drive us to the dorm. “Take care and rest well, (Y/n). We’ll see you tonight,” Jisung said as he gave me a warm and tight hug. “Change into the new pajamas we got for you, you know the one that was so warm and fluffy!” Jeongin said as he then reminded Hyunjin where it was. Everyone either hugged me before saying goodbye or just waved and smiled. Soon it was just Hyunjin and I, as we waited in the lobby for the driver to come. “He’s here, come on, (Y/n), we can go home and watch a movie and maybe draw some more,” “That -” YAWN “- sounds nice” “Haha, tired I see,” And so we got in the car, I barely sat down before my eyes were closing. The last thing I remember is hearing a low humming from Hyunjin as I rested my head against his shoulder before I fell into a deep sleep. 

~ To Be Continued ~

Please reblog! 

[utilitycaster]

You described C3 as frequently feeling like it's accelerating only to pump the breaks, and that really perfectly articulates some of the mixed feelings I have about this campaign. There have been a couple of times now when I've been really excited and invested in where the story is going (Laudna's death, the party split, Ashton blowing up, now with FCG's death, etc.), and then it's felt like that momentum has been either derailed or softened (either immediately or after an episode or two). It's all moments on the darker end of the emotional spectrum, so I wonder if it's folks wanting to pull back from it, but it feels like it's been a theme in this campaign in a way it wasn't in C1 and C2. Maybe there's something else going on that I'm not thinking of though?

So I think this post about pacing I made earlier this week covers this indirectly. I think it's a mix of the early groundwork for the party developing a culture of checking in with each other, working through conflict, and deciding what to do being constantly interrupted; and the fact that this is a more heavily railroaded campaign. I want to be clear - I don't think the railroading is bad at all! But I think that the prep for a campaign that had a more defined plot, especially starting quite early on, needed to be more extensive. I think it should have probably had a session zero that was a tradition one - not a playtest of two or three characters who knew each other, but the main cast members sitting down and saying "oh, huh, no one here has a high INT score" - or a heavier hand from Matt.

I think, for example, Ashton exploding was great and the choices afterwards were sound, it's just that the party doesn't have the tools to resolve this sort of conflict and so they shy from it. I also think some of the players who tend to embrace difficult choices and conflict that ultimately lead to those darker places and, in my opinion, better story, have chosen to take a back seat; and some of the players in the position to make those bold decisions have declined to make them, which is their right in terms of agency but is less of the story I personally wish to see.

I do want to note that like...they have interrupted the story but they have not yet been proven to have pumped the brakes now; it is possible the cast will pick up seamlessly with the next episode. It's really just that like...as you said, it feels like a pattern.

I suppose the next thing I'm going to say is going to be unpopular, but let's be honest, that has never once stopped me. I think a lot of Campaign 3's more passionate defenders are people who prefer what I'd consider quick, easy, feel-good highs, with a trade-off of a deeper narrative since that requires effort. The people who unironically said "must a story have conflict?" The people who just want weeks on end of downtime after this moon plot (and look this campaign has surprised me many times, and as this question indicates, not all were positive nor narratively satisfying, so I absolutely could be wrong here but I'm just increasingly like...what will they do after this moon plot. Name a significant plot hook that isn't part of the moon plot.) The people who are like "why would the party attack Bor'Dor simply because they tried to kill them? Why would Orym contact the person he clearly has a massive crush on when he's upset when other people are right there? Why would the people of Gelvaan have reservations about mind readers? Why doesn't Ross, the largest friend, simply eat all the other friends?"

But getting back to the original point I really do think that because of the different nature of this campaign - and it is different, structurally, and I don't think that's the root cause - more intense prepwork needed to be done both leading in (character creation) and in the early stages, and I think because it was going to be so tightly plotted later on I think it needed looser plotting earlier to allow the party to mesh and be easier to guide.

[kazuyummy]

😈 DAIYA NO ACE - ACCIDENTAL TURN-ONS

yuki tetsuya 💋 miyuki kazuya 💋 sanada shunpei 💋 isashiki jun 💋 kuramochi yoichi 💋 chris takigawa yu

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y u k i 💜 t e t s u y a ; hairpulling

you often look for tetsuya after sunday practice to give him the upcoming week's training schedule

as the meijin university boys' baseball team student physical trainer for the past two years, you help with their exercise regiment and work with the dietitian and coaches to deliver meal plans and practice schedules as well

it's not like you have to hand-deliver these things... but seeing Tetsuya is always a bonus (and it gives you a chance to go into detail - that's the excuse you use)

kuramochi, your best friend who had also decided to attend his high school coach's alma mater, is just so kind to interrupt and ask you to run through his schedule

"hold up, mochi - after i finish talking to tetsu"

"he can wait! i'm going on a date soon, so i'm in a rush!"

you snort, turning to tetsu to see where you left off on the page and telling mochi to wait his turn

mochi, the stubborn, unrelenting bastard, gives a short but firm tug to your ponytail

out of pure instinct, you bite your lip, eyes rolling back into your head with the tiniest of groans

mochi doesn't notice since he's behind you and still rambling on - thank goodness or he'd be howling, never letting you hear the end of it

but tetsuya certainly doesn't fail to catch it, visions of taking you from behind and pulling your hair fill his mind

he can see you ass-up on his bed, back arching and mouth babbling as he rams you with his cock, pussy gushing

he wonders if you like being spanked and choked too. would you call him sweetly by his name? or by daddy instead?

you blush heavily but continue talking, trying to play things off like nothing happened

but he's no longer paying attention, instead starting to brainstorm ways to get you to his for a personal training session with this newfound knowledge...

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m i y u k i 💜 k a z u y a ; flexibility

kazuya walking into your apartment is not an uncommon occurrence, but today, he's earlier than usual - which means he sees you doing a yoga morning routine that you'll inevitably give up on in a week or two

still, you're surprised at how flexible you are and how energized and focused it makes you - so maybe you'll stick with it for a bit

miyuki's heart isn't prepared to see your ass in those tight pants, or the way your boobs push out of the elastic, seamless sports bra

he's just thankful (or not) that your top isn't loose, otherwise he would perish on the spot at seeing any bit of underboob

with pants that fitted, you're either wearing the smallest thong known to man or nothing at all

he's imagining manhandling you in so many positions - to see just how far you can stretch for him, the burn in your muscles nothing compared to the heat you'd feel as he fills you up to the brim

what if he railed you standing, a leg hooked over his shoulder to spread you open as you beg for him to wreck you despite struggling to stay in this position?

he wants to rip those pants down the seam, eating you out then fucking the lights out of you

you could try sitting on his face in the splits to give him full access to your little pussy while he holds your thighs down

you switch to the downward dog pose, ass in the air toward him and ask in the sweetest voice if he wants to join you

he takes back his earlier statement - maybe he is about to die on the spot after all

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i s a s h i k i 💜 j u n ; finger sucking

studying in the library with jun is never a peaceful affair and you don't know why you agree to it every time - maybe because of your small little crush on your close friend that you continue to squash down

he interrupts your thoughts - "hey, what'd you get for number seven?"

jun pokes the side of your head - of course, he has his annoying moments too

"i told you i'm only doing even-numbered problems right now, idiot."

he doesn't ease up, continuing to poke, so it's time for retaliation. you whip your head around and prepare to bite

at that moment, something strange happens in your mind - you realize that he was poking you with his finger, not a pencil. and you don't want to hurt him with your bite, but you're already turning around, so - you... kind of just end up taking his fingers into your mouth

neither of you reacts right away. he's managed to get his long finger all the way in, hitting the back of your throat... with no gag reflex

his feels his digit rest on your tongue until you move it to flutter around him, the inside of your cheeks like velvet

"wh-what the fuck?"

his fingers come out with a pop and a little drool on the side of your cheek, which you wipe away

"would you rather i have bitten your finger? you'd be cryin', y'know?"

he stares, speechless and processing what happened. your mouth had felt so good, so soft around him. he'd be in heaven if you sucked him off like that, pretty eyes staring up at him while he paints your face white

"we wouldn't have had this problem if you stopped annoying me," you shrug

but when you pull out a lollipop from your bag, unwrapping it and swirling your tongue around, he suddenly remembers he's got something very important to do

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s a n a d a 💜 s h u n p e i ; thigh crushing

sanada's flirting is often affectionate, so it doesn't phase you when he sits on the floor of the couch in front of you, leaning his head back between your legs and looking up at you

you roll your eyes with a smile but continue watching your friends play mario kart on the screen

when it's your turn and the controller is handed to you, he becomes such a little demon

he turns to your knee and does that thing where he tickles you by putting his fingers in the centre of your knee and spreading them outward at the same time

"shunpei!" you scold him, "stop that!"

"or what?" he'll raise an eyebrow playfully

"or... or i'll accidentally kick you, idiot" you save face in your response, but your red cheeks show otherwise - you're a sucker for that little smirk of his

he doesn't let up, though, giving your calf a flick, tickling your bare leg with the texture of his hair from where he's sitting - you name it

"shunpei, if you don't stop, i will crush your head between my thighs."

you lightly pressing on the sides of his head with them, which finally gets him a bit quieter

but that's because he's now imagining eating you out, thighs trying to close him in as he pulls them apart, lapping at your folds as you beg him to keep going

he'd give you orgasm after orgasm, sticky sweet voice crooning for you to give him one more, and another after that, and another...

he wants you so fucked out that by the time he sheathes himself inside you, you're putty in his hands and just a little fucktoy for him

in fact, he's tempted to pepper kisses across your inner thighs, the only mercy from him coming from the fact that you're not alone in the room

"i wouldn't mind if i died like that, sweetheart"

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k u r a m o c h i 💜 y o i c h i ; neck kiss

being close friends with yoichi, it was easy to flirt in small doses with each other to deny your feelings by saying, "that's just what friends do", others saying you acted like a married couple

one day, you're saying goodbye and going for a kiss on his cheek when you both miscalculate - as you lean forward, he's already leaning away, and you end up moving too far forward, kissing his neck

you're a bit tangled in him, and whisper-giggle a "sorry!" in his ear, sending shivers down his spine

you chuckle nervously as you pull back, "i felt like a vampire doing that!"

he lets out an airy laugh, but he's rock hard right now

you've given each other plenty of friend-kisses on the cheek or forehead, but that spot just awakened something in him

he wants to feel your lips all over his skin, plush but feathery, whispering dirty, dirty things to him with your hands running up and down his body

how would those lips feel sucking his cock? how would they feel marking his neck when he drives into you, filling you with his load?

now he wants to fill your skin with love bites, tasting every inch of you and making your pupils dilate with hunger and lust

when he jokingly does it back and you let out a mewl, he knows his heart's in trouble. there's no way he can look at you the same again

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c h r i s 💜 t a k i g a w a 💜 y u ; straddling

chris isn't always one for parties, but he doesn't mind coming out to a few to socialize as long as his friends are there

(and someone may have let it slip to him that you'd be there)

he's seated on one of the loveseats when you find him after a couple drinks each

he's getting up to hug you but someone trying to get through the crowd pushes you forward and you fall onto him, luckily with no more cup in hand

you land safely, however, your legs are straddling his hips as he looks up at your breathless form

chris, as always, is smooth in an awkward moment like this

"hey, I don't mind. not too many seats around anyway."

you giggle, gaining some bravery from him as well,

"okay, but don't complain to me if your legs go numb!"

you turn around on his lap so you're in a far less suggestive position, but he can't stop imagining you riding him

he'd want to hold your hips as you bounce up and down, your tits following suit hypnotizingly as you scream his name

he'd let you do all the work sometimes, moving to your feet and crouching on him so he can watch himself push past your puffy folds and the way you grip him as he comes back out again

but you sitting the other way now? cockwarming wouldn't be a bad idea either. having you spread your legs and his fingers in a v opening your folds, showing everyone how filled you are with him - the thought is thrilling

for now, he's content with his fantasies, but looks like he'll ask you to swing by his place later...

this is a bit of a tribute to my upcoming miyuki fic (and you'll see why when it comes out lmao) but i'm in love w the idea of accidentally getting someone flustered like this and (sometimes) not knowing what you do to them, hehe. <3

[intoloopin-archive]

A CHAPTER: THE SHARP AND THE BLUNT (PART 1/2).

tw(s): panic attack. dubious consent (haruki is very weird and forward about initiating sex!). alcohol abuse & alcoholism. semi-smut? (there is making out). miscommunication (a warning because I personally think it's constant and frustrating). insinuation and direct discussions of sexual trauma, abuse by a past partner, abuse of workplace power and stalking. internalized homophobia (in part one, a hint). If I missed anything, please tell me! starring: Lee Hanjae. Fukunaga Haruki. featuring: Dylan Hwang / Hwang Chihoon. Their fellow LOOPiN members (old OT10, no Gyujin, a lot of Beomseok). Delilah Franco. Oh Sunyoung. Choi Sangwon. Blonde Bob Piss Girl (a serious character).

timeline: quick flashback to 2018 | early to the end of mid 2022.

word count: 13,405 words. author's notes: welcome everyone to hanruki fuckery part 1 a.k.a the most frustrating and life draining four months in Hanjae's whole entire life a.k.a big sadness, the piece split into two. this one is over 23K long, and was originally intended to be read in one go but! It Got Too Big. The conclusion will be coming out later this week! prepare for a Haruki all in par with the one in the prologue, which falls in between this mess on the timeline. this is a work of a whole month, but it's also a work of two years: a whole central plot, planned and done. title's from this song! give it a listen once you get trought the bigger picture, maybe, for catharsis purposes. stay safe! remember you deserve to be safe, always!

November 12, 2018.

Hanjae had vowed not to cry anymore when he got this job – in the same vehement way he had promised at twelve that he would no longer make a sound if he wailed after school, face buried under piles and piles of unfinished homework, to medium success, just the right amount of it to call it success.

He could still tear up once in a while, if things got though, and that was it; a clause added after his first exhausting week as a trainee. The number escalated to once every two business days after he was shoved to debut on LOOPiN, out of all the upcoming boy groups there were.

There was a story taunting the New Wave Music corridors back then. Someone did something unspeakable to someone else, and it caused an expulsion, followed by the immediate need for a new rapper, a new dancer. And there was Hanjae; a BBC trainee for three months, far removed from the Boy Of The Week gossip, who couldn’t exactly sing but had great enunciation, and had been dancing before he was even walking…

He cried now, openly, defeated. It had been an awful day for LOOPiN 2on1.

Their short lived promotions had played out like a sunset: a big golden start – so much press, so much momentum, so many views on the ‘Baby Don’t Stop’ dance practice video, where he and Haruki were using plain shirts and even plainer jeans – quickly diluting into the darkest of times – the controversies, LOOPiN first ones, and exclusively about them.

A resurrected Facebook photo of Hanjae on his graduation with a bandage around his hand, matched with the lingering traces of his poorly removed tattoo there painted him as a school delinquent; Haruki’s drop out stories reintroduced him as the big drunken failure of KArts’s international program.

They were going to stop going to music shows, the company had decided that day, and Sangwon told them on the drive back that they had just done their last one. They had gone up on stage as a duo for the last last time.

With a strong sniff, Hanjae unburied his face from in between his knees and looked at his hand, at the faint shape of a badly drawn rose on his skin. His dad had been adamant about getting it out the moment he took a look at it, still involved in protective plastic. He used the little money off his college safe to arrange a laser session that Hanjae skipped. A year later, Hanjae managed to schedule another one with the partial sponsor of MBN, the company he was stuck on before BBC. He had to do it in a shady place, at a bigger cost: bad skin scarring.

His mom had been relieved to see it fade even more nonetheless, up until the black tattoo turned into something that almost looked like a peculiar and old scar, if you didn’t give it a second glance; and no one was ever giving Hanjae a second glance.

“Let that be a lesson,” she told him, nose turned up and away from him. “Don’t jump head on into things again, Lee Hanjae. That’s no way to live. Watch yourself, watch your company. You’re not a kid anymore. Do you have no goals? Do you want nothing for yourself? Are you that selfish? Can’t you think, for once, about something that isn’t–”

Haruki was the one who found him, sitting on the floor, small and tense against the laundry machine, waiting for everyone’s clothes to be cleaned – the member’s, Sangwon’s, the cleaning auntie's aprons she had forgotten on top of the dinner table last week. Cleaning was always his scapegoat way of attending to something, even if very small.

Maybe if the company decided to drop him, he thought, Hanjae could still be around as the dorm’s janitor.

“So you’re not from Seoul,” Haruki said, leaning against the door frame with an air of mischief around him, something light on his step despite it all.

It was a statement, not an ask, because he knew this. It was one of the few trivia points they had exchanged during pauses on music shows or water breaks in between choreography practice – ‘What’s your age? What’s your blood type? How many siblings? Oh, none? You’re so lucky, Hanjae, so lucky. All siblings are demons. You aren’t missing a thing.’

Hanjae didn’t even startle; Haruki often popped up at places like that, picking up conversations from days, weeks ago like they were merely put on pause.

Without uttering a word and barely looking up, he still nodded his head no.

Haruki nodded back, a pacifying smile showing up on his face, said, “Cool. Great. How about I show you a place?”

‘The place’, he informed Hanjae, was not all that nice, or clean, and he really shouldn’t wear nice shoes or nice clothes tonight, but at least it wasn’t far, at least they had permission.

“Who’s permission?” Hanjae asked, taking the pile of clothes to the dryer, smoothing wrinkles off them just for something to do.

Haruki waved manager Choi’s front keys in his hand, and Sangwon’s horrendous keychains clanked against each other: a green pine tree and a colorful ball. “The one that matters. What do you say, uh? You’re in? Can I count you in?”

He could count Hanjae in.

[...]

They stopped by a convenience store on the way, some couple of blocks down the dorm, and by then night had already conquered all of Seoul. Inside, the middle aged lady behind the counter rushed to give Haruki a hug, a paper bag and a discount.

“He’s a street cat I found,” she leaned in to explain when she caught Hanjae anxiously looking at him going straight to the back of the store, near the freezers, near the alcohol, with the ease of someone who could do so with his eyes shut. “He’s a good foreign friend.”

“I’m not!” Haruki shouted back, but he was grinning. “Are you not watching the news?”

The noona playfully rolled her eyes, joked back, “What news? You’re not on the news!”

She hushed Hanjae to go catch up with him with an enerved wave, told him to take a look around. “It’s on the house,” she winked. “You’re both so skinny, and you must be working hard, so just take something tasty and leave quickly.”

Trailing a couple feet behind Haruki on the aisle, Hanjae picked up a package of noodles and a modest four-set of Terra cans to accompany his endless Heineken bottles, light green on light green. While Hanjae bagged everything with caution, Haruki slipped a red won note on the balcony when the owner stopped paying attention to them, and off they went again.

Haruki made them walk ten more minutes to the left, and the left, the left again, coming to an abrupt stop in front of an abandoned lot, pure dirt and weeds, the sort that seemed to have turned into an open dump for the neighborhood. It looked no different or less disgusting than the million of others around less central Jungnang; it didn’t look like it could be a spot.

Yet Haruki kept braving straight through the grass without stopping, guiding Hanjae behind him to only step where he was stepping, to keep his eyes glued to the floor and watch out for broken glass. He settled when they were deep into the lot, mere feet away from a big hill. There was a clean view of an uneven street if you looked down, he said, filled with houses that were almost all pretty. Hanjae chose to just trust Haruki’s word on that; he couldn’t dare to come close enough to the drop to peek and see.

Haruki standed the bag of drinks for him to hold, and Hanjae had to do so with both hands. From a spot behind them, he pushed two retriable chairs out of a bulk set against a moldy tree, the metal in them corrupted by rust on the edges, and set them up, sat down, tapped at the other seat with his foot in invitation.

Hanjae took a long and anxious moment to comply. Under him, the chair dangled sideways even if he stayed very, very still.

With the convenience bag back in his domain, Haruki cracked three beers open, and handed Hanjae one, kept the other two: one in each hand, a Heineken and a Terra.

“Never had this one. I heard they’re the same thing,” he said, taking a sip from each and frowning, analyzing them. Hanjae stayed quiet.

He had only drank with his dad and uncles one time, at last year’s Chuseok, and hadn’t been much of a fan of anything. Still, he took a sip of beer.

Haruki at least had grace enough to let him swallow and contain a grimace before asking, with a strange edge to it, “So are you? A bully. A problem child. Part of a gang.”

“No,” Hanjae said, too quickly, too eager. He cleared his throat. “I’m really not, hyung, no.”

“How did it get there, then?” Haruki's look was razor sharp on Hanjae’s once tattooed hand, hard enough to make him freeze. “And why did you remove it? Just to be a trainee?”

Hanjae opened his mouth, but only to take a shaky breath in, swallow a bit more of bitter alcohol. In front of his fleeting eyes, Haruki eased just as quickly as he had hardened.

“Hanjae, we’re teammates now,” he told him. “I showed you my good spot. You can’t give me one word sentences anymore. You can’t lie.”

Hanjae considered this, and considered him from the corner of his eyes. Haruki was the LOOPiN member that Hanjae had come to know best, mostly because they didn’t have a choice, but still, he made an effort, he talked to him; he didn’t let Hanjae fall adrift. And he could have easily turned into an island: from the moment he had been transferred to New Wave, he had been an outsider, a last minute solution to a problem no one would explain to him – who left? Why? Was he worse than them? Was he better?

“You’re better,” Haruki had said, when Hanjae brought it up, late at night while they had dinner alone, in the practice room, sweating and panting – a week until their debut happened. He was the only one who had bothered to tell him so. He sounded like he meant it, too. Hanjae remembers catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror over his shoulder, hair bright brown and unfamiliar, thinking even for a fleeting moment: I’m doing enough.

It was fair for him to be the first to know – the first for Hanjae to disappoint.

“I got it removed before,” he heard himself say. It was a secret, so it came out like one: whispered, slow. “Before I wanted to train. I got it with friends– my dance crew friends. It was our logo, or at least, it was going to be, one day. But I… I did a bad thing, and it stopped making sense. It didn’t fit. I didn’t fit, so. It had to go.”

The vagueness did nothing but pique Haruki’s interest. He seated more properly, then less properly; ended up putting his feet on the seat of the chair, slouching with his head supported on his knee, the exact body language of, ‘Tell me, tell me, tell me.’

“My friend– my best friend, from childhood, our team captain. He used to have a girlfriend. A girl from our class, a dancer too, someone he had been in love with forever. Later she became part of the group, and we got close, we turned into friends, and then not. Not quite that. They broke up and one hour later we got together, on the same day. We got caught. It was a mess. Everyone thought it was a shitty thing to do, that it was cheating, cheating on everyone. But I just wanted her to be my girlfriend, back then– Back then, I wanted a girlfriend more than I wanted anything...”

Hanjae felt it coming, again: the desire to recoil a bit more on himself in shame. How pathetic he had been, then; how miserable, how sad, how lonely.

He took a timid peek to the side, ready to see an irk of dismay on Haruki’s face, some justified disgust, and was surprised to not see any of that. Haruki had grown passionate and invested in the whole story, something new in his eyes, a third bottle halfway drained in his hand.

He moved his chin up, as if saying, ‘Go on’, but Hanjae couldn’t. He drained the rest of the beer.

Haruki clicked his tongue like that wouldn’t do. He shoved his chair a few inches closer so he could grab at Hanjae's arm and said, all at once, “We can not– Hanjae, look, listen, we can not be blamed for all the things, the crazy things we do when love…!” He didn't finish the sentence, just amended it into another one: “You were a teenager, you both were, and very, very brave. Very brave to tell her and date her and keep dating her even if. They were just– bad friends. Just bad friends.”

They weren’t bad friends, Hanjae knew; they weren’t the ones in the wrong. But it hurted to say it out loud, to admit what he knew was still true: how easily he burned bridges for attention, for affection, so he never did. He just knew – looked at his reflection on surfaces and knew.

He rolled and rolled the tap of the Terra until it fell off, into the can. “Did you really quit college, hyung?” Was what he asked the wind.

Haruki shifted on his seat; Hanjae could only tell because of the way it creaked. “More like college quit me,” he said, with a sad huff of air that might have been a laugh, and dropped Hanjae’s arm, drank from his bottle too.

Sadness fell over them like a veil from then on. The Terras ended and Haruki didn’t mind sharing all the other stuff he had, and the longer it went on the less shy Hanjae felt about asking. At some point Haruki said, “I guess we really fucked up, uh – with 2on1,” and Hanjae, whipping a foam mustache off his face, “Minwoo’s not talking to me,” and Haruki, almost falling over with laugher, “Oh, my, I bet not! Ha. I bet not…”, and turned reticent, fell quiet.

His eyes, Hanjae had noticed, kept darting to a spot ahead in between conversation, beyond the drop of the hill, dazed. He violently shook his head sideways everytime he caught himself drifting too far away, and ran a hand over his face, rubbing at it in a way that made Hanjae look at him in worry.

Haruki found it hilarious each time. “What is it,” he eventually said, slower than normal, harder to understand, “With you, your face?”

He got up from his chair, a sudden move that sent it falling to the floor, a loud squeak, and walked even closer.

In front of Hanjae, right in front of him, he leaned forward until he got both his hands on his face, and said, pushing the corners of his mouth up, “The mood is so– Bad! So bad! Smile! Big smile! C’mon, give me a big smile!”

There had been dirt on Haruki’s hand, and Hanjae could vaguely taste it, with how close to his lips he was pressing. He still wore his inner braces back then; he kept cutting his tongue on the same spot, never healing, never telling, and he could feel the inside of his cheeks pressing onto that sharp place, about to be pierced through.

For a moment, they stayed quiet, looking at each other head on. Hanjae was not smiling. His heart had picked up a quick pace inside his chest, was drumming – Haruki was so close, and he was so beautiful, a true magazine type beauty, all symmetry, and Hanjae knew this, but not with this much conviction, not with so much emotion.

“Ah, you know what? I like you. I decided. I do like you, now…” Haruki said, and then he grinned, bringing his face even nearer. He took a breath and Hanjae felt it on his own nose, and didn’t know what to do about it; his mind, for a moment, went static. “Nothing will happen to you, friend. I promise it. ‘Will not let it.”

Hanjae’s held breath was a painful thing to let out of his chest. “Was something– Was something going to…?”

Haruki huffed a laugh and gave his cheeks two playful taps, said, with a new found determination, “Handsome guy. Do not get sad. I will fix this for you,” and let Hanjae’s face go.

He straightened his back up and swayed slightly to the side, running a hand over his hair, fixing his bangs back into place. Haruki told him, “Late. No booze. Night over”, and extended that same hand for Hanjae to take – Hanjae who still felt like his face had gone numb, blood rushing to it.

He took the hand, and they made their way back to the dorm that way, hanging close; Like magnets, Hanjae remembers thinking, idly, and then not idly at all. Haruki’s hands were leaving behind a pressure everywhere they touched, a heat that Hanjae couldn’t shake off – he just couldn’t shake it off.

Later, when Hanjae layed in bed, sheet drawn over his entire body, he could still feel it. When he woke up the morning after, nauseated but still in the group, still safe, he could still feel it.

If he closes his eyes now, right now, he can still feel it – the sad sort of burn of a premonition misread.

January 13, 2022.

Los Angeles is sunny in a way Haegon would love to see and pretend to hate – a saddening thought Hanjae had since they landed, and that comes back to haunt him while he looks at the city passing by on the van’s window, sidewalks all golden.

Haegon’s not a loud person in his eyes, but his absence is a loud thing, pouring the life out of everyone, mostly because of the way it had been forced on them.

It had been a horrifying way to open the year: having to come forward right on the first day of 2022 to the press, headlining Haegon’s mugging and the accident, his follow up hiatus and excuse out of their ‘We Do’ promotions in the USA. And then there was having to deal with Haegon in private, angry and disappointed, not wanting to take his pain medicine, shoving his room’s door in everyone's faces, dismissing every checkup attempt with an annoyed, “It’s just a minor concussion, what the Hell! I’m not fucking dying! Get the fuck off me, I’m fine, get off, just fuck off already to the States without me! Go on! Just– just leave me already!”

They’re driving out of some media company studio around the center of Los Angeles, where they filmed two twenty minute videos in a roll, more embarrassing games than actual interviews, and Hanjae has already spent all of his ability to mend English words together.

It could have been more fun, one of their staff said, but they had to pass on the puppy interview format because of Taesong’s allergies, and Jiahang’s been dead set on pretending to be sad about it during the entire ride back to the hotel; crocodile tears and all.

Hanjae has to deal with him from the last seat on the far opposite side of the van, resting his fried blonde head against his shoulder, sighing loudly, because Dylan is also not here to amuse him – he took a bus home to Santa Monica and will stay home until they leave in two days time.

Hanjae doesn’t like provoking Taesong, doesn’t like to spoil Jiahang, but that means very little in the grand escape of the group, that goes about poking fun of Taeng like it’s a sport, that’s stuck in a position where they really can’t say no to J.J, who owns company shares; he shoots the meek figure of Taesong an apologetic look as Jiahang’s act carries on, trying to tell him: ‘I’m not a part of this, I just don’t know how to stop it.’

Thankfully, the hotel isn’t that far away, and it’s a quick torture – up until things takes a turn for the worse.

As they park and start to step out, Beomseok’s long arm blocks the door before he and Jiahang can put a single leg outside of the car.

“Stop,” he tells J.J, harsh enough to make Hanjae stumble a step back. Beomseok points a finger right at Jiahang’s face, and inch from touching his nose, says, “Stop being a fucking problem. Stop.”

It makes Jiahang livid, turns his ears bright red. He takes long stomps to the elevator, and Hanjae has to jog to keep up with him – Jiahang really has the longest legs Hanjae has ever seen on a person.

“He’s got such a stick up his ass!” He keeps on saying, barging into the room they’re both sharing with Dylan and Zhiming – angrily tossing his bag into his ‘cheap dollar store bed with the cheap dollar store sheets’ that made him go into a very similar rant last night. “He thinks he’s the only one who cares about Gon, the only one who can bother. He’s so wrong. I’m fucking worried too! I’m calling him too! I miss him! I’m more of a friend to him than that weirdo is. He’s so weird. He thinks he owns Haegon and everyone and everything, just because he’s older, just because he trained for like, one billion years! Like it’s my fault Starship thought he was too ugly to join NO.MERCY!”

“You were being annoying, Jiahang,” O.z deadpans from the corner he’s tucked in, without looking up from his manhwa.

Jiahang grunts louder. “Yeah, that was the point. Taesong knows I’m just joking around! Everyone knows!”

Zhiming lowers the comic from his face, flipping a page. His eyes have deep dark circles behind his thick glasses, marks that never go away. “Unnecessary.”

Jiahang rolls his eyes, putting his hair up on an ugly bun. He turns his back to Zhiming’s bed and mouths at Hanjae, mocking, ‘Unnecessary’.

Hanjae shrugs at him, and that annoys J.J too. He angrily puts on a movie on the tiny TV, gets a hold of his bed’s pillow and wraps himself around it, mumbling something under his breath still. The tags on the streaming app read comedy, musical. He chews on a poor nail while humming along the first song, and Hanjae tries to humor him with a tiny, “Is that Ariana Grande sunbaenim?”

It doesn’t work. Jiahang shoves his face into his pillow and says, miserable and muffled, “I can’t do this anymore. I can’t hang around with you, you’re so lame. I miss Dylan so much.”

“He invited you to go with him,” Hanjae says, helplessly. “You said you didn’t want to.”

“Of course I didn’t want to! I would have to sleep on the floor. In a bag, on the floor. And I don’t think his grandma would like me – I don’t think anyone in his family would like me,” he turns his face around, off the pillow. Hanjae can hear clearly when he says, “He needs time alone with them. For the anxieties.”

“The anxieties?” Hanjae asks him, very slowly.

Jiahang presses his mouth shut tight, straights himself up again. He undoes his ponytail, tosses his long, long hair from one side to the other, behind his ears.

He takes a quick look at Zhiming, and Hanjae does too, and they go by uncaught; O.z’s got his big headphones in now, eyes glued to his comic book.

Jiahang is still careful to whisper, “The rest of you don’t get what it's like, when you’re away from your home every day, when you know all the people you’re going to see aren’t all the ones you know – when you got family that’s like, old, and you know that time’s passing. You’re losing days with them. It gets scary, after a while. Dylan’s grandad will be 82 this year, hyung – that’s a terrifying number, that’s a maybe. That’s the anxiety. Mine, his– Zhiming’s, too. Foreign member anxiety.”

Hanjae nods, sharp. Jiahang makes a face at him, brighter – smiles, says like a tease, “Not Haruki’s, though. Haruki doesn’t miss Japan at all, if that’s what you’re wondering. He’s not anxious about that.”

Hanjae blinks. Opens his mouth, closes it, blinks again. “I wasn’t going to ask–” 

“Sure thing. Suuuuure,” J.J says slyly, and goes back to watching TV, and Hanjae does too. Gulps, keeps looking at the movie, tries to pay attention.

Jiahang put on korean subtitles for him, yet he keeps talking – explaining everything. It’s a nice enough movie, he says. Good songs, nice enough movie.

They’re reaching the end of it, seeing every main character gather in a protest around town, when Haruki barges into their room.

“Are any of you not gonna rot inside this hotel?” He asks, loudly, quickly. “Is anyone going to do anything? Catch some sun?”

“Hanjae’s supposed to be going out,” Zhiming tells him. He’s also watching the movie now, has Jiahang by his side, explaining to him what he missed.

“Oh?” Haruki says, and looks around the room, eyes a little clouded, until they land on Hanjae. He smiles, and it stretches across his face quick and big, like he’s actually glad to see him, like the effect is instantaneous. Hanjae can’t for the life of him look at it head on. “Perfect. That’s just perfect, I’m going with you, Hanhan, just wait for me to get changed!”

“Okay,” Hanjae says, and hops off the bed too quickly, sits back down. “I– Waiting.”

Immediately after Haruki leaves Jiahang gives him a long look over Zhiming’s shoulder, and Hanjae pretends not to see it.

“You’re too easy,” he says, with a disapproving nod of his head, and Hanjae pretends he doesn’t hear it, pretends it doesn’t sting.

It’s humiliating, being reminded that people know – that they look at him and know, and he’s reminded of it constantly.

“Hanjae’s sad, sad bisexual awakening,” was how Jiahang put it, sing-a-song in the studio, while making this very single they’re promoting now. “Worse, worse than Minwoo’s– Is that a verse? Can we put that on a song, on the album?”

Minwoo said, for the two of them, “Fuck you.”

And there that one time, the one he remembers clearly, when Seo CEO said he wanted to sit down to watch them practicing ‘Love Me Right’ before the big release, and Taesong pushed Hanjae aside, told him, “Hanjae, you– if you need to check the choreo, please look at the instruction video. Don’t look at Haruki like that, there’s no need to look like you–”

There had to be a separation, he realized; he had to get it under control.

So Hanjae made friends with the people Haruki seemed to not stand, which sometimes meant everyone, but mostly meant J.J and Beomseok – two extremes of very opposite lines. He’s built a line of separation, wrapped himself up in Haruki repellent, and he tries to live by it.

It’s a frail line, a shitty line, and it comes crashing down all the time, with the little moments; single minutes where things feel kind between them, different. A bottle of water and a perfectly folded towel passed to him backstage, a group conversation where Haruki eventually says, like clockwork, “And you, Hanjae? What do you think?”; no one else says that. There’s this lingering nearness coming from him, like there's always something Haruki wants to say or do but can’t, something he wants to check.

It makes Hanjae wonder – makes him come back to that one friendly night, hang on to it. The way Haruki had been so near, his exact tone of voice when he said that he liked him, considered him a friend, thought he was handsome, was going to fix whatever was wrong.

[...]

“So what are we doing?” Haruki asks when they step onto the sidewalk.

“Just filming my Loop Log,” Hanjae responds. “Deadline’s tonight.”

“Shit, that,” Haruki groans, taking his cap off to push hair out of his eyes, putting it on again. “I forgot all about that. ‘Haven’t filmed mine either. ‘Think I lost my camera.”

“I can help you look,” Hanjae offers. “When we get home.”

“Well, thank you,” Haruki says, and steps closer, slides an arm over Hanjae’s shoulder, tells him, “For now, I guess we’ll just have to stick tight. LOOPiN 2on1, reunited in L.A…!”

At Hanjae’s timid request, Chihoon made him a list of what he should get to ‘live his best tourist life’, what the fans might want to see him try: pancakes, bacon and eggs, ice cream, anything in the menu that looks like it could have come off a cartoon, any ‘house specials’.

They go into the nearest place listed with the camera on hand, and have to explain with their Frankenstein English that they want to make a vlog, can they make a vlog? They can, a waiter says, but only in a specific area; they get taken there.

Hanjae orders the house special, and it's a crazy looking Banana Split. Haruki settles for waffles, and they decide to start filming when the food arrives.

Any chance of small talk between them goes fully stall when Hanjae asks, right at their waiter steps away, as the opening topic: “Have you talked to Haegon?”

Haruki’s dangling hand on the table stills. He smiles weird, notices it looks weird, drops it: “Ah, no. No…” and goes silent, makes Hanjae go silent too.

The food comes, they start filming. Hanjae’s meticulously trying to extract a tiny piece of strawberry from a block of ice cream, all while only looking through the camera’s lens, when Haruki’s phone jumps to life, ringing.

He takes it out of his pocket, places it screen flat on the table without looking at the receiver once, mutes it with one hand, adds a mountain of maple syrup to his food with the other.

“Not important,” Haruki reassures Hanjae when he catches him looking at the buzzing phone, an inch away from falling off the edge. He forks the food and stands his hand across the table, says, with his Idol voice, “Wanna try?”

It’s good sweet food, all of it. The camera goes back and forth between them, hand to hand. Haruki makes him pretend they’re shooting a commercial, at some point, makes him do a different pose with every bite, and Hanjae tries to not lose control of his face with all the wooing, all the praise.

It’s fanservice, and Haruki’s good at it. It makes for good content. Everything: good.

Outside, bill paid, they take shelter from the sun and check the recording; thirty raw minutes of footage.

“Hanjae,” Haruki says, looking up after skimming the video, solemn. Hanjae leans a bit forward, eyes a little wide.“The Log will turn out very boring if this is all we do.”

It is, indeed, not the best vlog Hanjae’s ever made. Not that he’s ever been any good at them, or at anything on the media side of the job outside of music covers or choreography making. He’s seen the views on his solo variety content, Sangwon walked him through them all last month, said: nothing special.

They barely talked in 30 minutes – Hanjae didn't initiate a single conversation with him.

Quickly, Haruki’s eyes narrow as he scans the area around them, and Hanjae tries to keep up. He looks for a long moment at the barracks of food, at a man selling balloons, and finally lands far ahead, on a group of kids running on the sand. The leading one trips on air and falls face first on the ground, immediately wails, and they let out matching startled, horrified laughs.

Haruki jogs until he’s in front of him, and turns to walk backwards, closer to where the sidewalk gives into the beach.

“You wanna do that?” He arches a perfect eyebrow. “Run around on the beach with me. Like we’re in a movie.”

Hanjae steps on a stone, lands his other feet on the ground wrong. “I– No.”

“No? Well, I’m doing it! It’s what the vlog’s missing! Trust me, if we do this, it’ll fix everything,” he says, and before Hanjae can even think of what to reply, turns around and starts running on the sand, straight ahead.

Haruki’s already bent over near the ocean when Hanjae catches up with him, folding his jeans until they stop at his knees, barefoot. He insists: “Let’s go, let’s do it, you’re already here, it’s going to be fun, the fans will like it, let’s do it, let’s do it!”

With a resigned sigh, Hanjae unties his sneakers.

Haruki approaches a family nearby and asks for a beach chair, gets a yes. They place the camera cautiously on it, set it with a big zoom ahead. Haruki leaves his phone there, too, with a careless toss, and Hanjae can hear it announcing another call as he steps away, trailing exactly behind him – footprint over footprint, back near the ocean and then on the ocean.

“I thought– Hyung, I thought we were going to just walk,” Hanjae says, stopping. The salt water is a chill foam around his foot.

“Yeah,” Haruki flashes him a smile over his shoulder. He’s about to be knees deep, is taking his Hawaiian shirt off, Hanjae realizes now, with a flush. “We’re walking. Into the water.”

Hanjae catches the shirt when he throws it over his shoulder, looks at it, up at him. He takes a step closer. “Manager Choi’s– Haruki, he’s going to complain!”

“Fuck him!” Haruki tells him with a laugh. He says, with meaning: “Fuck him, fuck New Wave, let them complain, I’m going for a dive and no one can stop me!”

And then he dives, swims, disappears under the water for a long moment. Hanjae stays planted where he is, at a loss of words. When Haruki reemerges, pushing a curtain off black hair off his eyes, and walks back splashing water at him. By the time they’re side by side again, it looks like Hanjae took a dive, too.

“Are you…” He starts to say, eyeing Haruki worryingly, but then the family from before calls back to them, says they’re leaving, they need the chair back, and Haruki claps him on the shoulder, smiles widely, races him to reach them.

“Look,” Haruki says when they’re checking the footage, back on the sidewalk, showing Hanjae a clip: the two of them, a little blurry, walking. “We even got your good smile.”

“My good smile?” Hanjae echoes.

“Not to imply you have a bad one, because you don’t have a bad one,” Haruki says, and bumps their shoulders together. He has just put his shirt back on, is wearing it unbuttoned. “You just have one that’s relaxed, easy. A rare one.”

“Hm,” Hanjae responds, looking away, rolling a rock under his feet.

The walk back to the hotel is calm, windy. The sky’s cotton candy pink and it all looks like a movie, Hanjae thinks. He looks down, and their hands are loose, hanging close, like it would be in a movie.

The end credits roll when they get in the hotel’s lobby, and find Sangwon there – just right there. He catches sight of them immediately, like an alert dog; a quick jump off his seat, a stall near.

He seems to consider them like an equation, frowning: he takes in their wet hair, the wet clothes, the leftover traces of sand, solves it, fumes.

“Do you have any idea,” he says, and he’s struggling to look at the two of them, to not just gawk at Haruki – to not bare his teeth to Haruki only. “Any idea, you two, of how irresponsible this whole stunt was? You’re out on a foreign land. You know no one – no one. When I– The company, if the company calls, you pick your phone. It’s how it works. Pick your phone, immediately.”

Hanjae checks his own phone, a quick glance: no calls.

“Choi-nim,” he says, not looking directly at him, because he lost the ability over the years. Sangwon’s gaze now makes him incredibly anxious. He takes the camera out of where its hanging around his neck, stands it. “I notified– On the calendar, I added– We were just filming–”

“No need to explain, Hanjae,” Haruki interrupts, and puts a hand on Hanjae’s shoulder, steps in front of him, puts himself between him and Sangwon. “Go up. You did nothing wrong. It’s okay. Hyung’s going to solve this with the manager.” He turns straight to Choi-nim and bows, so pristine, so polite: “I take full responsibility for today. It was all me. I’m really sorry if I caused you stress.”

Sangwon considers him for a long moment, taking in the bend of his elbows, like he’s trying to measure his sincerity – there’s almost none of it, Hanjae can tell. He sighs, and then he adjusts his shirt, picks at the cufflinks of his uniform, breaths – his nostrils taking over his entire face.

“You’re dismissed,” Sangwon tells Hanjae, icely, with a corner of the eye glance.

“Sir, I–”

“Dismissed.”

“Go on,” Haruki encourages him, giving Hanjae’s shoulder a firm tap. And then he runs a hand over Hanjae’s hair, messes it up until his wet bangs are glued to his forehead, which he’s never done before; not with him, not with anyone, as far as Hanjae’s aware.

Hesitantly, Hanjae steps away, goes to take the elevator. He keeps looking at them over his shoulder, watching them trail away with growing uneasiness. Haruki keeps looking back at him until he can’t: Sangwon gets the door of the hotel open, shoves him by the shoulder out.

Up in his hotel room, Hanjae showers for a long time. There’s sand on a spot on his elbow where Haruki gave him a tap, and it takes him a while to notice.

He comes off the shower and goes straight to laying down. Zhiming, who had been awake when he came in, is also in his bed now, fully still.

He turns over once, and then again, goes back on his side. “Zhiming hyung?” Hanjae whispers. “You’re awake?”

When Zhiming finally responds, it’s with a minimal grunt, a tiny quick of his socked foot. “What.”

“Do you,” Hanjae chews on the words, “Do you think I have a good smile?”

A pause, a loud sigh. “You’re an Idol. You should hope so.”

“Okay. Okay, so what about– What about me do you think, what looks bad?”

Slowly, very slowly, Zhiming raises his upper body on his elbows. His air is a mess, recently dyed from gray to black too quickly. Without his glasses, he’s forced to squint at Hanjae, even this close, with their beds separated by a very narrow space.

“What the fuck are you even talking about?”

Hanjae takes in a sharp breath, and nods – puts a hand over his eyes, nods again. Stupid, so stupid.

“Nothing,” He says. “Nothing, just– Forget it. I’m sorry, just– Sorry.”

Zhiming goes back to laying down with a loud ‘oof’. He says, a crude whisper, “Don’t go out alone with him if it’ll make you come back like that.”

And with that Hanjae decides he must sleep, immediately, and end this day already.

It was just a day, he tells himself, rubbing at the scarred spot on his hand; a flower in eternal bloom, once. Just one good day. Drop it, forget it, erase it.

February 15, 2022.

“C’mon, you guys, c’moooon! On a scale of one to ten–”

“Na Seungsoo,” Minwoo’s voice rings out like a warning; an elastic pulled far above its limit, about to snap back into place, hard. “Shut your goddamn mouth.”

“She’s right there,” Haegon adds, equally as ultraged. “Are you dumb? Do you want to die?”

“Light up, you two. We’re just talking hypotheticals. I’m not actually gonna fuck our mananger,” Seungsoo says, crossing his arms, raising his chin high – his posture the embodiment of a practical joke about to take action. “That would be desperate and unprofessional, and I am none of these things.”

“You’re extremely unprofessional,” Jiahang laughs at him, a little mean – all his laughs have something a little mean about them, Hanjae can’t help but notice, when Seungsoo’s involved. “And extremely desperate. You just fucked our sound assistant. We no longer have a sound assistant, because you fucked her.”

“So did Jimin!”

“A fluke,” Zhiming defends himself. “Not happening again.”

“It’s never a fluke with you, Seungsoo. You’re such a man whore. A man whore for staff. Even Sangwon could have pulled you when he was around if he had a pair of tits,” Haegon notes, and Seungsoo gasps, mutters, scandalized, ‘You bastard!’, raises a fist up as if he’s going to hit him, and everyone’s laughing. Hanjae contributes with a grimace. “You’re that gross, you’re really that disgusting, all it would take–”

Behind them, Dylan begins to violently choke on a bite out of his granola bar, hard enough for the whole photo studio to freeze.

Taesong stands up immediately to check on him, and so does Jungwha, their three day old manager, Choi Sangwon’s definitive substitute and the topic of Seungsoo’s most recent infatuation: she rushes forward to aid alongside an assistant, a cup of water materialized out of thin air on her hand, like a trained lifeguard.

It’s too early for any of them to get a good read on her, but Hanjae has working eyes, so he will admit Junghwa is good looking in a mature sort of way, a bit above the ‘K-Pop staff adequate’. She’s not far from Seungsoo’s type, given the fact that he pretty much doesn’t have one. Hanjae has seen him flirt with Seo CEO’s third ex-wife, the second ex-wife, all of Minwoo’s half sisters and, in a disastrous attempt, Dylan’s mom. ("She's just so young, Chihoon! I thought she was your cousin!"

"I don't have a single cousin and you know that! You went for my mom, you animal, the least you can do is own it!")

“Holy shit, Chihoon,” Seungsoo says, tapping him on the back with one hand, fanning him with the other. “You’re alright?”

“My bad– False alarm, guys, my bad–!”, Dylan mutters, still coughing, watery eyes quick in their attempt to scan the room for something, someone.

Hanjae follows their frantic trail until they land on the quiet figure of Haruki by the coffee machine, his back to them, shoulders rigid and on display – wearing the same suit outfit Hanjae has been put on, his in a shade more close to purple than blue.

It fits Haruki splendidly, as must things do.

“Alright, boys, hey, boys!” Jungwha calls out when Dylan’s lungs go back to normal, clapping her hands one loud time. “Break’s over! It’s the real deal, now! So let’s try to have a good day at work today! Fighting!”

They’re set to scatter in trios and duos, the old unit formations, except for Haegon, who’s still on hiatus, still has stitches all over the crown of his head. He only made it because Haruki insisted, and he’s always insisting, lately: “How can we do well without our cheerleader,” he told Haegon in the morning, “Our cute, adorable cheerleader, my very favorite little brother–!”

“Hi,” Hanjae mutters, tapping Haruki gently in the shoulder. Haruki jumps, catching his breath, and Hanjae drops his hand, shoves it behind his own back. “Ah, sorry, if I– I was just going to say we should–”

But Haruki is turning and splinting in front of him before all the words are out, growing out of earshot, out of hold, entering a hallway on the left.

Hanjae, embarrassed, follows.

They’re supposed to go to room 4, but Haruki walks right past it. Hanjae calls back to him from the door, says, “Hyung, that’s not the–”, and then his voice falters, dies out.

Haruki’s already quick pace has grown even quicker, and he’s now running towards the door at the end of the corridor, the one with a red sign written ‘TERRACE’ over it – really running, to the point his body almost slams against the metal when he stops. The door handle makes a loud noise as he tries to push it open, can’t make it, tries again, harder – manages to step out with a strong shove. Hanjae goes after him, frowning, worried.

Outside, the terrace is a gray space, almost the same tone as the sky – rain’s a strong promise on the horizon, a reasonable fear.

Haruki’s standing right at the center. He tries to take in a big and loud gulp of air, can’t, makes a choking sound, lets out a hiss. Hanjae can feel the acute panic coming off him like electricity, gluing itself to his very own skin. He reminds himself to breathe.

Haruki stands an arm out and that’s the distance between them, that’s the nearest he’ll let Hanjae get.

“What’s– What’s happening, what’s wrong, what–?”

“Just,” he’s trembling bad. “Leave, I need– Leave.”

“Now?” Hanjae asks, and he’s making himself bite down on the trail of: ‘But the shoot’, ‘But the gig’, ‘But the job’ so hard, he’s actually got his teeth sinking on his lip.

Haruki nods, sharp and final, and Hanjae feels himself nodding back, frenetic. “Okay, stay– stay here, okay, you’ll leave– we’re leaving, just stay here.”

Hanjae walks back into the building with his head very low, tries to not walk too quickly to bring attention to himself, feels like he’s falling; feels like the whole world is looking at him. He holds his breath while sneaking back into the room they’re using as a closet, picks his and Haruki’s things like a thief: pushing everything into their bags without folding, eyes anxiously looking behind his back, flinching at every outside noise coming through the door.

Haruki’s phone is the last thing he grabs. He only becomes aware of it because it starts ringing. He looks at the screen, a quick run of his eyes. The contact name reads: ‘Don’t Answer Don’t Answer Don’t Answer.’

On the roof, Haruki’s sitting on the floor, resting his forehead against the wall. The back half of an air conditioner hangs close to him, and the leftover water pools near his feet, turning the hem of his pants dark.

They put on the yellow raincoats, plastic hood all the way up, and make a clumsy escape out the studio; Hanjae babbles something at the receptionist about there being equipment in the van, and the woman gives them a distracted ‘go ahead’ nod, an empty courtesy smile.

They walk without a plan, enter on the first bus that stops close: Haruki on the lead, completely reticent, Hanjae only following. There’s still a trail of glitter going down his neck, shiny with sweat, red from stress, Hanjae notices when they sit down. He’s still crying, still whipping at his runny nose with the expensive fabric of his shirt.

Hanjae looks down at his own clothes, the suit vest with no shirt under, a design piece New Wave doesn’t own – he’s wearing eyeliner, a strong smokey eye. They look expensive, and to an outsider, probably peculiar, weird. They don’t even have masks on…

Maybe, Hanjae hopes, trying to hold on to any trail of optimism possible, they could pass as very dedicated cover dancers, maybe–

The sound of Hanjae’s phone ringing makes them both jump in their seats. Haruki comes out of his state of anxious inertia to put a hand on his knee, pressing on it to get his attention. He says, through his teeth, “Do not– Hanjae, do not.”

Hanjae lets the phone ring out. He looks at the receiver: Uhm Junghwa (Manager).

Haruki’s peeking at it too. “Off,” he says, and it’s off.

It’s raining when they step out of the bus. They get maybe five feet down the sidewalk when a phone rings again – this time, Haruki’s. He comes to a sudden halt, and Hanjae bumps into his back and gets a close view of how, in an act of blind rage, he throws it hard on the floor.

“Fuck!” Haruki says, and steps on it once, twice, cracks the screen then the whole device in half. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

Hanjae looks at him, wide eyed, mouth hanging open, and watches him pace around, a tense moment, until he loses all steam, goes sit by the closest wall.

Haruki stays for a long time there, one hand gripping the fence, the other pressing over his face, being rained on. Cautiously, Hanjae slides his raincoat off, squats down, close to him, and stands it over both their heads. Rain drips directly into his shoulder, makes a cold path down his neck.

“I hope your–,” a hiccup, a sniff, a faint and unconvincing attempt from Haruki of laughing them both off, “your fantasy’s still– still up.”

“My…?”

“Can you not,” Haruki says, a hiss, “Not look.”

Hanjae complies, doesn’t look. Behind them, a car runs close to the sidewalk, splashes a wave of rainwater on their backs.

“Sasaeng?” Hanjae tries, “Is it a sasaeng, or…”

Haruki lets out a bitter snort. “Imja,” he says, and it makes more sense that he means ‘owner’ rather than ‘marriage partner’; Hanjae can’t hear anything else, can’t connect anything else to something he knows and decode it.

His throat has gone dry, sandy. He clears it, and still, his voice comes off clipped. “Your…? Ah. Ah, I didn’t know– Didn’t know you have someone you were–”

“You know him,” Haruki says. “For years. You– you’ve known him. He gave you your job– Made your job happen.”

It takes a long moment for it to click, for the shape of manager Choi to come to Hanjae’s mind. Haruki’s looking at him like he’s expecting Hanjae to do something horrible: mouth set for a fight, eyes so red they look like they’ve been painted over.

“Hyung,” Hanjae breathes. His voice is an even quieter thing, afraid. “Do you mean– Are you being serious?”

“Am I! Am I serious?!”

He’s up again, quick – Hanjae loses his equilibrium and falls back on the street. Haruki doesn’t wait for him to get up to resume stomping.

It takes two street turns for Hanjae to understand they’re detouring from the dorms.

They sit on another bus stop bench, hop on another bus. A quiet and tense drive, this one. Haruki’s no longer crying, just grinding his teeth.

They go to the front gates of a tiny building, their final destination, and Haruki tells the security guard an apartment number, wais to be buzzed in. He does soon, and Hanjae, yet to be told to leave, goes up with him on the stairs.

Delilah gets the door he bangs on, and Hanjae’s stuck blinking at the sight of her, who shouldn’t still be in Korea. Haruki barges into her place like a hurricane: shoes still on, pushing her a little back, closer to the wall.

They both stare at the spot he occupied on the corridor a second ago, a held breath.

She recovers much quicker than he does. Deh tucks a long lock of her caramel hair behind her ear, greets him with an awkward, “Hanjae, hi. Hi...”, and Hanjae gets overwhelmed by too many things at once; how glad he is to see her, the shame of how they had parted. Her sad face when she told everyone she couldn’t stand to work with them anymore.

“You’re back.”

“I am! I am back!” Deh says. “How could I not! Europe’s too gray for me. The food’s too bad, and...” She sucks air through her teeth, takes an anxious look behind her, back inside. “... And all that.”

Hanjae shakes his head, agrees – agrees to all that even though he has no idea what all that is. There’s a pool of spit on his mouth, and he has to concentrate on gulping it down, has to try more than once.

“Hanjae, baby, look– I’ll send him on his way later. Maybe tonight. Or tomorrow morning. Just…” She trials off. “Please don’t tell the others we met, okay? I don’t want Seungsoo looking for me or asking around. I don’t want to see him again, ever.”

Fair, Hanjae thinks. After everything, fair.

Deh flashes him a final grim before closing the door, still awkward, and it doesn’t last. She drops it for a split second, fully drops it, looks instead concerned, anxious.

Hanjae waits a moment, then moves before he knows it. He presses his ear against the shut door, closes his eyes and hopes to catch anything. A creek of wood. A vacuum cleaner being turned off. The sound of someone channel surfing. Deh saying what might be, “Haruki, what do you want me to do? I can’t know, love. I can’t know if you don’t tell me.”

Another sound drowns everything, nearer. Someone from the apartment on the left starts to unlock their door, it’s about to walk out, and it leaves Hanjae panicking, it makes him jog all the way out of the building, nonstop.

He makes the inverse way back home, alone. His own phone is a hot thing in his back pocket. When he gets to the dorm, Chihoon is the first person he bumps into, planted right beside the shoe rack. Hanjae’s seen him in this set of clothes, short shorts and a knockoff Pokemon shirt, more than he’s seen his own dad’s face these last few years.

Dylan grabs at Hanjae when he notices it’s him, pushes him back out quickly. He puts a finger in front of his mouth – quiet.

“I’ve given you some cover,” he whispers. They’re circling the house, Hanjae realizes, going to the backyard. “Said you were not feeling well. It won’t fly with Minwoo or Taesong, so think of something. And you're not gonna get paid this month, because of the clothes. Neither of you will.” He looks around, eyes sharp in a way Hanjae didn’t think they could be. “Where is he?”

“Deh’s,” Hanjae blurts out, and remembers he promised not to speak of her, grows meek.

He’s tired, deep in the bones tired, from all the walking, all the running. The socks inside his sneakers are still wet, his fingers have gone cold.

“Good,” Dylan says, remarkably unsurprised. “That’s good enough.”

There’s a moment of silence between them. In Hanjae’s head, a pinned image every time he blinks: Haruki’s eyes, red like a bruise.

“Chihoon hyung, I think– I think there’s something wrong with–”

Dylan’s grip on his arm is steady, but no longer comforting when he says, “Hanjae, listen, yes. Yes. Something’s wrong. Too many things–” He shakes his head, clicks his tongue once, and again. “No need for you to worry about it, because there’s nothing you can really do, okay? It’s been too long, now. The time for anyone to really do anything, over.”

He looks like he doesn’t want to be saying it, like all those words taste bitter, bad.

“So just keep being nice,” Dylan concludes, and his voice breaks at the end. “Be nice with him right now, alright? And patient, and normal, just like always, and…”

Dylan doesn’t say what else. He looks down, and Hanjae follows. Near their feet, a trail of black nicotine ash and tiny bits of paper; someone’s worry, someone’s wait.Kind, maybe, Hanjae concludes on his own. Maybe kind was what he was going to say.

March 12th & a Bit Of 13th, 2022.

Sunyoung immediately strikes Hanjae as someone who’s never held a small house party before, and it’s a bit painful to see her try.

She greets them at the door, a little overdressed: Chanel earrings, Chanel bag. “Is that everyone?”, she asks, craning her neck to peek behind them, and when they mumble ‘yes’ she visibly withers.

Taesong steps in front of them to give her a gift – a flower vase so yellow Zhiming had to look away from it, rubbing at his eyes.

She stares at it for a minute, frowns hard, then composes herself, says, “Ah! Thank you so much, oppa! This is so– Yeah, thanks! But you didn’t have to! Gon, baby! I said they didn’t have to!”

“I told you they don’t listen to me,” Haegon mutters. There’s a dark cloud over his face and Sunyoung seems to not mind it. She squeezes his arm when he passes her by, smiles at him prettily. 

She checks the corridor one more time, and for a moment Hanjae thinks she looks sad; that she looks angry.

The party is a housewarming party for the brand new double storey apartment in Nine One Hannam she’s sharing with her BombShell leader Yoorim, who strongly opposed herself to throwing anything. Hanjae catches a glimpse of her looking displeased and bothered behind the kitchen aisle, and bows his head a little – she rolls her eyes, turns her back on him, disappears behind a small group of people.

Beomseok refused to come, decided to take the afternoon to go grocery shopping, the night to visit family he can’t take Haegon to see; the side that calls him a parasite. It had been a clear jab, right at Haegon’s face. Even Minwoo thought it was insensitive, and his response to the invite had been nothing but a disgusted face that spelled out ‘no’.

Hanjae watches him move through the living room, greeting some people. Haegon’s been here yesterday, and the day before that, and if Hanjae’s not cautious, he’ll stay over despite their early shooting tomorrow.

“That old man put you on babysitting duty, eh, Hanhan?” Seungsoo leans in to whisper to him, somehow with a drink in hand – white wine. The smell of his cologne is already stuck to the collar of Hanjae’s bottom up by osmosis.

“He’s just concerned. It makes sense to be concerned.”

On their first day back from L.A, Haegon had announced over dinner that he now had a girlfriend: they met last week, and had been dating for three days. The situation had driven Beomseok crazy. Haegon asked if him if wanted to meet her every day for two weeks straight, and he said: no. He eventually got around to meet her and said with even more conviction: no, break up, now.

It’s an age gap, even if very small, but she’s about five years his industry senior, he told Hanjae. And Sunyoung’s from YG Entertainment, the face of too many brands. She’s going to eat him alive, spit him out, leave him heartbroken and Beomseok is going to have to deal with it, and he doesn’t want to have to deal with it.

“She can just like him. People can just like him,” Taesong tried to intervene, high pitched, and Beomseok cutted him off right away, said, “No. No, there’s something– Be serious, Taesong. No.”

The front door dings again, and it takes a long minute for Haegon to untangle his arms from Sunyoung’s waist and let her go get it. Hanjae watches her walk across the house, a firm walk of a supermodel, of someone important, and gets embarrassed with how bad he is at this, how obvious.

Another glimpse her way, and the person with their two feet planted on the ‘welcome home’ carpet is Haruki. He also said he wouldn’t come but gave no excuse, yet: here, dressed nicely. He’s got the same convenience store from years ago under one arm, the one from a memory.

They talk, talk, talk, and he still won’t leave the entrance. Haruki makes her laugh, the most genuine thing Hanjae’s seen Sunyoung do all night. He sees her look at him, look around, then lean closer again: point upstairs and give Haruki a thumbs up as he finally makes his way in, into the stairs and out of sight.

Sunyoung’s back on the couch, to Haegon, and Hanjae makes himself look. They’re fine, they appear very fine, holding hands, he doesn’t have to watch them all night, there’s no need to watch them at all, and–

Hanjae goes up the stairs, which he knows it’s technically off limits. He tries to not let his eyes wander to the photos on the walls, the books on the shelves tucked next to an award behind protective glass, a big shiny plaque framed above it.

There’s only one door with light peeking through, right at the end of the corridor. He taps at it three times, and waits. Another three taps, slightly stronger.

“Occupied,” a voice says from the inside – a tone he knows. “All night.”

Hanjae can’t think of what to say: can’t think of anything at all, for a second. He gives the door another hopeful tap, waits more, and he lets out a sigh of relief when it creeks open. He goes in, closes it quietly behind him, and looks down.

The room’s a bathroom, straight out of a home decoration magazine, all black and white. Haruki seems to be setting up an improv bar on the floor, in the big space between the bathtub and the sink. There’s a bottle of something Hanjae can’t read, blue and half empty, tucked in between his legs like a treasure.

“Ah, you,” he waves at Hanjae’s vague direction, not looking up. “Hello, you. I’m just– Don’t mind the mess. Someone made me something once. ‘Trying to put it together.”

Hanjae hums. He can’t make his hand ease its grip on the doorknob.

It’s been weeks since they abandoned the shoot, and since then Haruki’s been avoiding him constantly. Looks at him from across rooms and seems pained, constantly, and Hanjae hasn’t had the heart to come near.

“What is happening?” Haruki asks, suddenly, and tries to land a smile. He blinks a lot and then not enough looking up at Hanjae. “Down. Down there.”

“Nothing much.”

“How is he?”

“Haegon?” Hanjae asks, and Haruki nods at him loosely, mouths the name without making a sound: ‘Haegon’. “He– Uh, he seems alright.”

“Great couple, yes or no? For our maknae, is she great?”

“I– I don’t know.”

Disappointment flashes vividly through Haruki’s face, and it lands on a sad shagrin. “You don’t know,” he says, to himself, and goes back to emptying his bag with a slouch to his shoulders.

‘Be normal’, Dylan had said that day, his only instructions: ‘Be nice.’

Hanjae lets go of the door and goes to sit in front of him, legs crossed like his are. “What’s it supposed to taste like? The drink.”

There’s no humor in Haruki when he says, “Acid.”

He offers a thermo bottle to Hanjae filled with the failed replica. Hanjae takes a tiny sip and can’t swallow it, feels like his tongue is on fire, and it makes Haruki huff a laugh. “More disgusting than that.”

He makes more combinations that demand more tasting, and Hanjae at times struggles, at times doesn’t – Haruki empties a Soju bottle and refills it with Somaek, calls it ‘Hanjae’s palette cleanser’. He also makes Hanjae go downstairs to grab things they don’t have: more cups, ice and fruit juice, if Sunyoung has any, which she does – too many options.

Hanjae comes back from the trip and sets all his findings at Haruki’s feet, then feels weird about it, exposed about it, and pushes some of it closer to himself.

The bottle opener, they notice a minute later, has disappeared. Hanjae thinks he took it with him to the kitchen and abandoned it on the counter. Worry not, Haruki says; worry not!, because he knows how to open them with his front teeth. It’s a hidden skill, a secret talent.

Haruki asks him to hold a bottle close to his face so he can prove it, and Hanjae does so, but it’s a frail grip, not good. Haruki puts a hand over his to make it steadier, makes it worse. Another hand, a shove closer until their knees are touching. Hanjae adds his free hand into the pile, the lonely hand, and Haruki looks straight at him – looks like he’s saying, ‘Bet?’

It takes a second, really. A pop and the lid comes off in the company of an enormous foam eruption. Haruki gets both his hands away, does a smiley flourish: ‘ta-da!’

“But you shook it! Too much, you–!’ He laughs, and can’t stop laughing. Hanjae’s still holding the bottle and tries to hand it to him, but Haruki shakes his head ‘no’. “For you. It is for you.”

It’s bland beer, he takes notice when he drinks it, but somehow it tastes sweeter.

From the corner of his eyes he catches a glimpse of metal in a corner, and it’s Haruki’s new phone, exiled.

Hanjae is surprised to hear himself ask him, “Are the calls– the calls still coming? The ones from–”

“Always,” Haruki responds, eerily nonchalant. “Always will.”

“It’s not over, then? You still–”

“It is. It is over. It is over the way it can be over.”

“What wouldhe,” Hanjae closes his eyes, reiterates, “If it’s over, what would he still want with you?”

“What do you think,” Haruki asks, staring fixedly at the alcohol going from one bottle to the other. A bit of it it’s running straight to the floor. “What do you think people want with me?”

It’s said– weird. Something in his uncaring tone makes a lump of sadness form in Hanjae’s throat.

“Hyung, you know that, if you everneed to talk to anyone about anything. Me and the guys, we all– We all listen. We would listen.”

“Anything?” Haruki pretends to be impressed. “Big. That is big.”

“Seriously. I’m being serious.”

Haruki looks up at him. Even more alcohol spills to the floor.

“Okay. Okay, anything. Anything…” he hums, dropping the bottles, mimicking being in thought with an obnoxious pout. His mouth is now a purple dot, and his eyes a shiny brown daze...

Hanjae often catches himself wondering if he just knows. If he looks into a mirror and just knows that he’s beautiful in a way that looks hand drawn, that looks meticulously planned: a subject of equal envy and admiration. If Sangwon ever told him that, and if so, how many times, had it come close to enough, had he used the right words to say it, did Haruki believe him when he said it, or if he didn’t – what did it make him feel? What exactly did he make him feel?

Hanjae always thought he was so mean, so bitter. He can’t remember ever hearing him say anything nice to anyone about anything.

Hanjae’s staring, he’s realized, and his eyes hurt. He makes them look down to where Haruki’s got a firm hold around the slim of a bottleneck, tapping a weird rhythm into it, impossible to decipher. He has long fingers with hard skin on them, which isn’t something you would expect. He used to paint, used to do calligraphy; used to go to a prestigious arts academy during high school, all boys.

Hanjae’s still starring, and he’s too close to drunk to properly command himself to stop. He hears Haruki huffs an unheard laugh, suddenly, short and maybe frustrated, maybe not that, and Hanjae’s head snaps up to his face to meet it.

He’s being stared at, too – is being analyzed, too.

“I thought of something. Something I want to say, a thing,” Haruki announces. The grin on his face suddenly looks very, very sharp, like there’s something tugging the corners of his mouth up. “I will whisper to you. On your ear. ‘Gimme your ear and I will tell.”

And with that he comes forward, a sudden and ungracious movement, and doesn’t stop when they’re front to front, an inch apart. He climbs Hanjae up – actually climbs him up, his legs around the middle of his body, cageing him in.

Haruki grims again and it’s lazily, in slow motion. He puts a hand on Hanjae’s chin, tips it high, says, “Not your ear.”

He turns his head to the side. His nose rovers near Hanjae’s head, and Hanjae tries to escape it in reflex, but they’re all too slow, drowned in alcohol.

Into his ear, lips touching skin, Haruki says, “I know you like me. For a very long time. Since that one time. Ever since we went out, we got drunk, that one time.”

“Sorry,” Hanjae mutters, hushed.

“‘Sorry’,” Haruki laughs again, like that’s the funniest word there is, like it’s the meanest. It rings so loud, it has an echo. “Now you sorry?”

Hanjae sinks more into the floor, almost laying down, and Haruki follows, saying, “Are you going away? This close? I am this close, and you going away?”

They’re kissing before Hanjae fully processes how, and it’s a weird kiss at a weird angle; Haruki won’t bend his body all the way down, and Hanjae has to keep craning his neck to meet him midway, his elbows pressing against the tiles, hurting.

He feels a hand slide up his shirt almost immediately, and Hanjae understands, with drunken horror, that he’s being undressed – quickly.

“Ah, wait–” He says, and then can’t get out anything else: Haruki shoved a thumb inside his mouth, in between his teeth, as he goes for the spot where Hanjae’s shoulder and neck meet.

“You smell like home here,” he says, a goosebump. He buries his face there, opens his mouth above it, bites and sucks hard enough to make Hanjae jump  – for him to know it’ll leave a pinkish mark, evidence–

It’s exactly then and there that someone bursts in through the door, says a curse loudly, startles the two of them slightly apart, knocks the air out of their lungs.

“Close your eyes! I need to pee right now, right now, close your eyes!”

It’s a tall woman, this one – Hanjae sees her quick rush to the toilet and closes his eyes tight shut.

“If any of you try to act funny and take a single peek, I’ll fucking castrate you both– Hey! Hey, you, back on the floor, don’t come near, I’m fucking serious, I’ll kill you, you fucking–!”

The door clicks shut, and it takes Hanjae a moment to take in the lack of heat above and around him, to correlate the two: Haruki’s gone, walked out, left him.

From the side, he hears an instrident, “Can you at least cover your fucking boner, dude?!”

Hanjae rolls to his side, facing the opposite wall to where the toilet is; he pushes his knuckles into his shut eyes, for good measure. He waits for the girl to finish peeing, and tries not to have an anxiety attack or a heart attack or a nerve attack about everything that happened in the last ten minutes: Haruki on top of him, Haruki no longer on top of him, having to hear a stranger peeing.

“I’m done,” she announces, and he turns back to the same position as before.

There’s little dots of light in his vision, dancing. The girl’s using the sink now, and she has a blonde bob, so blonde and so short. It follows the shape of her mouth and up, even shorter at the back.

“Not a word from you, ever,” she warns, drying her hands on her skirt, pushing it down more, back in place. She gives him a pointed glare that makes Hanjae look down at the state he’s in, at his busted open shirt, a single button in the middle holding it all together. “Not a word from me. Now get the fuck out, please. People need to use the bathroom.”

And she gets going too, without closing the door all the way. The hum of the party downstairs carries over.

Hanjae inhales, looking at the bright ceiling light. His fingers have gone pruney where they were holding him.

[…]

Eventually Hanjae has to get out of the suite, and do a walk of shame back to the housewarming party. He takes down with him all the glass and cups he can manage, not a lot of them, goes straight to the kitchen sink, and begins to wash them, it’s done with them, goes for all of Sunyoung and Yoorim’s dishes.

Around him, the kitchen has emptied out – on the front the living room, mostly emptied out, too, except for little clicks. He spots J.J right in the center of the one installed in the couch, gesticulating enthusiastically, telling someone some story until they make eye contact. He stops, excuses himself, rushes near.

Up close, Jiahang looks at him, up and down, bug eyed, and Hanjae understands he didn’t do a good job of piecing himself back together.

He got a glimpse of his face in the mirror before walking out: lips glossy, bangs far apart and sticking up, somehow, not all the buttons of his shirt tucked in the right cases.

“Hanjae, oh my God. Dylan, Dylan, look!” He calls out, and Hanjae sees Chihoon appear on his left, face slightly dazed. “Oh my God, Dylan! Hanjae!”

“You fucking animal!” Seungsoo, coming out of nowhere, slaps him on the chest hard. “Who? Who who who who?”

They’re all too close, too soon, and Hanjae can’t look anyone in the eyes for too long– he just can’t.

He catches a glimpse of Blonde Bob Piss Girl in a corner, looking bored, on her phone, and stares at her for a moment too long. Everyone follows, looks at her too, and his bandmates erupt into enthusiastic ‘Eeeeeeh!’s. Someone, proprably Seungsoo still, raises his soupy arm up so he can be given high fives, and Hanjae doesn’t know what to do – to let the lie linger or to kill it. What can he even say? What can he say if not that–

Hanjae finds himself grabbing Dylan’s sleeve and tugging at it, leaving behind a damp. He feels like a little kid that broke something, suddenly – overwhelmingly so. “Where ‘d Haruki go?”

“Dude, I didn’t see him. You sure?” Chihoon asks, and Hanjae’s not; he’s not sure.

“Whaaaaat? Haruki came? Haruki’s here?”

“Great. Another one to hunt down. We’re never gonna leave this fucking place in time,” Jiahang whines. “Yoorim noona’s going to delete my number.”

Hanjae asks all of them at once, “We’re leaving?”

“Yeah, you didn’t hear? Sunyoung and Haegon ditched,” Seungsoo says, and Hanjae’s stomach drops. “It’s her house and they ditched, disappeared, poof! Yoorim’s pissed, told everyone to leave. And Taeng’s freaking out! Someone broke his little vase, someone spilled something on him. I think he’s gonna snap. We need to get that freak home.”

“Shit.”

“Yes, Hanjae,” Seungsoo laughs. “Old man was right, after all… Shit.”

[...]

They do a small search around the apartment, the balcony, and conclude: no Haruki anywhere, so they group everyone they have to leave, go wait to be picked up on the sidewalk in front of the Nine One Hannam gates.

“You just dreamed him up, Hanhan! Wouldn’t be the first time,” Seungsoo jokes. It’s a bad joke. O.z shoves him in the chest hard about it, tells him, “Quiet.”

Hanjae looks straight ahead, not at them. In front of him J.J keeps bouncing on the wheel of his feet, saying, ‘I’m going in the front, I’m passenger seat, forget it, it’s me me me me,’ even though no one’s putting up a fight about it.

Minwoo pulls up soon enough on the curve in one of the two black company vans, and downs the window just to give them all an open scowl, then a frown. “I’m only seeing seven of you.”

J.J circles the car to get to the front door, struggles a little to get it open. “Hyung, you’re not gonna believe.”

“I don’t wanna hear it, Jiahang.”

“Shut up, you do. You really really really really do. You were–,” and then he becomes aware of the slouched figure of Hanjae trailing behind him, turns and frowns. “What did I just say!”

“No, I’m…” Hanjae looks at Minwoo looking at him, one eyebrow raised, says, “Sorry.”

Minwoo pinches at his nose, hard. “Just get in the goddamn car, Hanjae, Jesus Christ.”

Hanjae thinks, out of everyone who has a driver’s license, Minwoo drives the shittiest. He needs glasses, he never wears them, he grumbles curses at every slow driver and every rush driver and every driver, in general.

On the way home, he stops the van only once, by popular demand. Taesong steps out to vomit, and spends the rest of the ride jittery about it, cracking his knuckles even when they make no sound.

“We’re so fucked,” Chihoon says when they park inside the dorm’s garage, rubbing his eyes. “It’s 3AM. We’re so fucked.”

While everyone rushes to their rooms to piece pajamas together and form a long row to shower, Hanjae’s elbow to elbow with Dylan, going up the stairs to the second floor as quietly as they can.

He and Haruki have, by far, the best room in the whole house: spacious, with a nice window. It used to be Haruki and Sangwon’s up until he got fired – some excuse about rooming with the manager to learn Korean quicker, about making sure Haruki wouldn’t sneak beer into his room. It makes Hanjae sick now, seeing it, standing so close to it.

Dylan tries the handle once, and the door doesn’t budge, only makes a stubborn click – locked.

Hanjae dries his hand on his jeans, still wet, somehow, asks him, “Is he– He’s in there? Or…?”

Chihoon rests his head against the mahogany and sort of sighs, sort of laughs. “Yeah, definitely home. He’s the only one with the key to lock me out. Classic. Just classic.”

“Get my bed,” Hanjae says – implores. “Use mine, you can– mine, I’ll couch.”

“You’ll couch?” Chihoon looks at him with the trembling smile of someone who’s about to laugh. It falls off his face quickly when he takes in the guilt Hanjae knows he’s wearing openly on his face.

“Hyung, I–” It’s out of his mouth before Hanjae even knows it. “Tonight, something – Something has happened, and I think, think I should– say.”

Dylan’s giving him an analytical once over, and he stops at his moving hands, on his marked neck, looks at the door again – locked. 

“Hanjae,” he says his name like it’s an insult, and for a moment Hanjae feels like it really is – his name, an insult.

He crumbles. “I’m sorry, so, so sorry, we just– I didn’t mean to– It was just, just a kiss, I think, and I– I–”

“You kissed him?! ‘You think’? What does that mean? What do you mean ‘you think’?!”

Hanjae looks around and then down, behind him. “Dylan…” he manages, airy, and doesn’t know what he wants the rest of the phrase to be, where he’s trying to take it.

Chihoon’s mouth hangs open, a painful disbelief, and then slowly shuts.

“You know what,” he says harshly, but not angrily – he sounds more disappointed than anything, more tired than anything. “I don’t want to know. Not now. I’ll know, just– Not now. But fucking Hell, Hanjae, you. You just had to, didn’t you? You saw an opportunity and you just had to.”

Hanjae’s breath catches. Dylan is a figure in his eyes, growing blurry.

“I’m taking your bed,” he announces. ”Eveytime he kicks me out from this day on, I’m sleeping on your bed.”

He storms off, his bare feet on the floor a sound until it isn’t anymore.

Hanjae knocks on the door, a small tap. Nothing.

He thinks of saying it again: sorry. But no one’s around to hear it, no one’s around to accept it. There’s no point.