#its crazy you don’t think your students like you or care about you and then.. you say goodbye and you realize.. like shit | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thewritingrowlet · 6 months ago

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The Outing Trip pt. 1, ft. tripleS Xinyu

tags: daddy kink, anal teasing, creampie, praise kink (just a bit), rough

tw: violence (OC takes a punch in the face, nothing crazy I promise)

word count: 12k+

author's note: this is the first part of a small series (4 parts max.) inspired by an anon's idea of a university outing trip (minus the "stranded in an island due to a storm with a bunch of girls" part) featuring a handful of tripleS members. This part also mentions Yooyeon, Nakyoung, Dahyun, and Chaeyeon as I consider them to be candidates to be featured in future parts.

p.s. after I finish writing part 2 of this series, I'm gonna stop writing about tripleS members for one or two fics. Let me know if you think there's anyone (who is over the age of 18 in May 2024) that needs attention (be it bcs they're from a less-popular group, or bcs they only debuted recently and you're a fan, etc).

It is now September. The hot summer days are starting to go and be replaced by the chiller and refreshing days of shorter daylight that autumn usually has in its bag. September is also the month where every single student organization in the university goes on outings to welcome their new members. That includes the student council that you’re the president of. You’re having a meeting with a bunch of council staffs and governors—the term your university uses to refer to council leaders on the faculty level because the university wants to replicate real-world governmental structure—in about 10 minutes to talk about details about the outing itself. Everyone will be wearing their uniform, which is a sight you find to be cute.

“President-oppa!”, you hear a girl’s voice behind you as you’re walking to the meeting place, so you turn around to see who it is. You see Xinyu, the council’s vice president who also happens to be your lovely girlfriend, walking like a supermodel towards you. “Hey, princess”, you greet her before taking her hand and pecking it. Xinyu loves it when you do those two things (call her “princess” and kiss her hand), blushing every time she sees you do it. You, on the other hand, don’t really care if her fondness of praises is a sign of narcissism because no one can tell you she doesn't deserve such treatment. You also don’t really care about displaying affection in public—why wouldn’t you want to show affection to your perfect-in-every-aspect girlfriend all the time? It also serves as an announcement that both you and Xinyu are off-limits since the relationship is not a secret.

“O-oppa”, she looks down at her shoes to hide the red hue on her cheeks, “you always do these sweet things to me”. You wrap an arm around her waist, “because you deserve it, sweetie”. She twiddles her index fingers in shyness, “but my heart can only take so much of it in a day, oppa”. “Skill issue, baby”, you chuckle—how adorable is it that you’ve been dating her for over a year and living together in an apartment for almost as long and she still gets overwhelmed with your sweet gestures and words?

“Xinyu-yah”, you throw a lifebuoy to save her from drowning in her own thoughts, “we need to get to get there fast, baby; there’s only a few minutes left and we’re the last people who get to be late”. You take her hand and start running, making Xinyu yell in surprise and possibly turn some people’s heads. You stop running when you’re in front of the elevator and press the button to go up. It’s nice that the elevator doesn’t have a CCTV in it, because you can share a bit of intimacy with Xinyu by pecking her on the lips and forcing a blush once again—her poor heart is guaranteed to give out by the end of the day. “Oppa, I really can’t take much of this anymore”, Xinyu complains. “Of course you can, what are you talking about?”, you laugh. You and Xinyu need to put on a serious face soon, though, as the elevator doors are opening, and you’ll be met with people outside.

“I thought you two were going to be late, not gonna lie”, Nakyoung, Xinyu’s best friend and fellow council member, greets you at the doors of the auditorium. “Do you really think that low of us, Nakyoung-ah?”, Xinyu protests. Nakyoung laughs, “not really, no—just thought maybe you ran off on a date or something”. Xinyu pinches Nakyoung’s cheeks in annoyance, making a small scene in front of a bunch of council members. You shake your head in amusement, “alright, that’s enough, kids. Is everyone here, Nakyoung-ah?”. “Almost; the Faculty of Medicine’s governor will be late. She’s still assisting in a lab and said you can start without her”, Nakyoung explains before taking you and Xinyu’s hands and pulling the both of you into the auditorium. You look at the clock hanging on the wall and see that you’re perfectly on time—perfectly calculated, if you say so yourself.

“Good afternoon, governors. Thank you for taking the time for today’s little meeting”, you take the center spot on the stage. You sometimes wonder why you talk and act like this in front of fellow students but since the university wants this to be as authentic of an experience as possible, you can’t help but play along. “This is September, and you guys know what it means: we need to welcome the new members of our councils on both the university and faculty level. Would someone kindly kick us off and report their preparation progress?”, you see the Faculty of Science’s governor, Kim Yooyeon, raise her hand so you step to the side and let her take your spot on the stage.

She starts presenting the things she and her members have done to prepare, such as consulting with the dean, surveying the area she wants to go to, and calculating the cost of the entire thing. You admire her thoroughness and ability to think ahead—the girl students call the goddess isn’t just known for her looks, but also sharpness of mind. Just one thing, though: she doesn’t like attention, as shown by the way she jogs back to her seat while partially covering her face after she’s done talking. “Thank you, Yooyeon-ah—oh, hello, Jiwoo-yah!”, you greet Son Jiwoo, the aforementioned governor from the Faculty of Medicine who just entered the room. “Hi, hello”, she rushes to her seat, “sorry for being late, I was needed in the lab”. “No, you’re fine, sweetie. Let’s continue, though”, your over-friendliness spills out and Xinyu glares at you from her seat, but you miss it since you don’t have eyes on the back of your head.

One governor after the other takes turns to present their plans; some have come up with elaborate plans, while others have simpler ideas as to how to welcome their new members. Once everyone is done presenting their plans, you wrap up the meeting (not without expressing appreciation to everyone) and let them go so that they can go about the rest of their day. Yooyeon stays behind, probably because she has some things to discuss with the three of you. “Hey, guys”, she approaches slowly, “I want to talk about something, but can we get out of here first? This auditorium keeps reminding me of some of my hardest days”. “Yeah, sure. Lead the way, unnie”, Nakyoung says before suggesting another idea, “are you guys free, by the way? We can talk over some food if you are—oppa will pay since he’s the richest among us”.

Nakyoung and Yooyeon walk side-by-side while holding hands, while you and Xinyu walk behind them with your hands intertwined. Xinyu then slows down her steps, creating a decent gap between Nakyoung and Yooyeon. “Oppa”, she tugs your hand, a hint of sadness in her voice, “you.. you’re not interested in Jiwoo-unnie, are you?”. Her question catches you off guard, “Jiwoo-unnie? Son Jiwoo? No, of course not. Why?”. “You, um, were a little too friendly with her earlier—I mean, she is pretty, so I understand”, she sulks. You try to recount what happened during the meeting, and you realize that you called her “sweetie”—that pet name is supposed to be reserved for Xinyu only. You instantly feel a huge wave of guilt at the realization, “I’m so sorry, baby. I promise you it was nothing but a slip up”. She lets go of your hand and hugs the clipboard she’s holding with both arms, “please don’t do that again. I-I didn’t like it”, she says.

She refuses to hold your hand for the rest of the walk, and that’s a hint the size of a mountain that you’ve fucked up and you’ll need to make it up to your princess. You finally arrive at the student-favorite noodle spot after a few minutes of walking. It’s not too packed since most students are in class, considering what time it is. Nakyoung joins your group after ordering for everyone. Yooyeon sits across Nakyoung, so that leaves Xinyu no option but to sit across you. Only when she sits down can you see her teary eyes, “you fucked up and now you’re in trouble, son”, your heart says. “Okay, unnie, we’re here. So, what was it you wanted to talk about?”, Nakyoung says. Yooyeon scratches the back of her head, “oh, um, I actually just wanted to hang out with you guys. You seem to be a fun trio to be around”. You chuckle, “yeah, that’s fine, we were getting food regardless. Welcome to the fold, I guess”. You arrange your words more carefully this time because you don’t want to fuck things up even further.

You’re now standing at the bus stop after the meal, still surrounded by your friends. “So, what now?”, you ask. Nakyoung, oblivious to your situation with Xinyu, throws her idea into the ring, “let’s go to your place, oppa. I really wanna lay down on that gloriously soft and fluffy sofa of yours”. You glance at Xinyu, who doesn’t seem to hate the idea, and nod in agreement to the idea, “yeah, we can do that. What about you, Yooyeon-ah? You have other classes after this?”. “N-no, ca-can I join you again? I-I don’t have many friends, you see”, Yooyeon hides her face behind her hands after saying that—you never knew a goddess could be so shy around people and have so few friends, but here you are. “Alright, let’s get on that bus so that we don’t have to walk to the parking lot”, you point to the approaching yellow campus bus—the off-site parking lot is not too far but you just can’t be assed to walk at the moment.

Doesn’t take long for the bus to arrive and take the four of you to the parking lot. You lead them to your car and Yooyeon makes a comment when she sees it, “nice car, Jisung-ah”. “I’m telling you, Jisung-oppa is rich, unnie. Daddy and mommy’s money, right, oppa?”, Nakyoung chimes in to tease you—this mischievous cat never runs out of ideas to tease her friends. “Well, when you put it like that”, you say. You’re never one to brag about your wealth, so you simply thank Yooyeon for the compliment and unlock the car so that your friends can get in. Xinyu gets in the front passenger seat like usual while the other two sit in the middle row.

You’re now out of the parking lot and on the way back to your apartment. “I need to stop at a convenience store, sorry. I need to buy something”, you say to your friends. “I bet he’s buying condoms”, Nakyoung chirps. Xinyu is probably not too entertained with what Nakyoung is suggesting, but they tease each other like that all the time. “I promise you I’m not”, you say as you pull into the driveway of the convenience store. “You guys do it raw, Xinyu-yah?”, Nakyoung lets out a fake surprise gasp at the end. “Kim Nakyoung, I promise I will throw you out the window of our apartment if you keep teasing me”, Xinyu says. “Look at them, unnie; they live together and have unprotected sex all the time”, Nakyoung turns to Yooyeon, who hides her face behind her palms again. You roll your eyes and get out of the car—you just want to get Xinyu’s favorite chocolate and snacks, it is not supposed to be this difficult, ever.

You finally arrive at your building after a short drive from the university. You hop off the car and walk in front, and would you look at that: Xinyu is wrapping a hand around your arm and leaning her head against your shoulder; “glad you’re feeling better, baby. I’m so sorry for being an ass”, you whisper to her. “I can’t stay mad at you for long, oppa, you know this”, Xinyu whispers back. Nakyoung is used to seeing your public display of affection, but Yooyeon, who is hanging out with your bunch for the first time, is not; she’s probably looking away so that she doesn't have to see this. You walk to the elevator and continue to your unit followed by the three girls, until you finally arrive at the door. Xinyu does the honors and unlocks the door before running into the bedroom. “Welcome to our little apartment, girls. Please make yourself at home”, you stand to the side and let them in. Nakyoung, as she has promised earlier, runs straight to your sofa and lies down on it, “Little apartment, my ass—oh my God, it’s so comfortable; this thing must be mad expensive. Unnie, come here, what are you doing?”, she invites Yooyeon who’s standing awkwardly in the doorway. “You can go with her, Yooyeon-ah. Please, make yourself comfortable”, you encourage her.

You then make your way to the bedroom to follow Xinyu and close the door behind you, you see that she has ditched her shirt for a white sleeveless tee that fits her perfect body like a bespoke glove. “I know you bought me snacks. Show me where they are or I will, I will—what’s a good one—not kiss you for the rest of the day”, she knows she can’t threaten you to save her life, so she must improvise to make herself sound scary. You chuckle and fish a bar of chocolate and a bunch of chips out of the bag, “for you, princess”. “Oh my God, chocolate too?! Thank you, oppa, you’re the best!”, she happily accepts your tribute and rips open a bag of chips. You peck the girl who’s munching so enthusiastically on the forehead, “anything for you, love. My world is dark without you”. Xinyu blushes at your words, “I can say the same about you, oppa. You know that right?”. You open your mouth to answer her, but that’s when you hear a knock on the door. “Oppa, Xinyu-yah, are you guys done having sex? Yooyeon-unnie wants to talk”, Nakyoung says from the other side of the door.

Xinyu rushes out of the bedroom and flicks Nakyoung’s forehead, “we were not having sex, God damn it!”. You follow Xinyu out of the bedroom and head to the dining table, “play nice, girls. Come, we can talk here”, you call out to your friends. Yooyeon joins you on the table, followed by Xinyu and Nakyoung who have broken their little scuffle. “Before we start”, you poke Xinyu on the shoulder, “order some pizza for us, sweetie. We can get your favorite”. Xinyu runs back to the bedroom to get her phone and order her favorite pizza—food is truly the bullet train to her heart (and pants but we’ll save that for later). She high-steps her way to the table to join you, seemingly excited at the prospect of having her favorite pizza. She stops next to you and pecks you on the cheek, “I love you”, she says. “I love you more, sweetie. Sit, please”, you pull a chair for her. Nakyoung sighs, “I know you just joined us, unnie, but I guarantee that you’ll get tired of seeing these two act like this very soon”. “Oh, uh, I personally find it cute, actually. I’m happy for them; I hope I can experience that myself one day”, Yooyeon confesses before looking away.

“It’s nothing crazy, really”, Yooyeon starts, “I was just curious about your council’s plans to welcome the new members of your own. I-I was thinking maybe I discuss it if that’s okay with you guys”. Xinyu gets excited hearing those words, “of course, unnie. We would love that”. “Can you tell me a summary first?”, Yooyeon says. You tell her how you and Xinyu plan to do a 3-day trip to the nearby island that also happens to be a famous tourism destination. Nakyoung helps explain the schedule and agendas that she and another council member have come up with. Lastly, Xinyu explains other details such as logistics, methods of transportation, and accommodation; “we are prohibiting alcohol for this trip, by the way. The last thing we need is some drunk freshmen fucking things up”, she adds. “How do you plan to do that, exactly?”, Yooyeon inquires. “Well, I called the manager of the accomodation and specifically and precisely asked them to not sell anyone from our group alcohol and to notify ask should someone try”, Xinyu explains.

Yooyeon gets up from her seat and asks for your permission to get water, so you tell her to get some from the dispenser in the kitchen. She then gets back in her seat and starts talking again. “So, president, vice president, and—what are you again?”, Yooyeon turns to Nakyoung, who lets out a frustrated grunt, “Oh, God damn it—I’m the secretary and the third wheel to the president and vice president. Remember that, please”. “Right, sorry”, Yooyeon clears her throat, “The reason I wanted to talk to you guys is because I have some potential candidates that might be able to join you guys in the council at the university level”. “Okay, go on”, you encourage her to keep talking. “They initially wanted to join us at the faculty, but we couldn’t accept them simply because we were full. I was thinking that maybe these two can thrive under your flag instead”. “Names, unnie?”, Nakyoung asks as she pulls out her phone to write their names. “Seo Dahyun, born in ‘03, and Kim Chaeyeon, born in ‘04”, Yooyeon says, “Dahyun had to retake the SAT for the second time; that’s why it took her a bit longer to get here, but that fact doesn’t take anything away from her, I assure you”.

Yooyeon obviously knows these people better than anyone in the room, since she knows them and has interviewed them personally, so the three of you decide to trust her perception of them. Xinyu arranges an interview for each of them tomorrow at noon—no precise time yet since you’ll need to confirm their schedules with each of them. Yooyeon gives Nakyoung their numbers and she starts hitting them up on CocoaSpeak. “One more thing, Jisung-ah”, she looks at you, “I want to be in the room where it happens”. “Sure, you can be there with us for the interview”, you say to her. “Won’t that be too intimidating?”, Xinyu utters her concern. Yooyeon shakes her head in disagreement, “these two don’t get intimidated easily, they’ll be fine”.

You hear a buzz from the door, so you ask Xinyu to get the pizza from the delivery guy. You make sure to pay attention to the exchange because Xinyu has had a bad experience with a degenerate delivery guy who thought that she was attractive and decided to take his 1-in-a-billion chance. You understand that you can take the pizza yourself but letting her do it helps Xinyu overcome her trauma as she knows that you have her back. Xinyu slams the door a bit too roughly and runs back towards the dining table. “I present to you, the Zhou Xinyu Special!”, she opens the box and puts it down on the table. Yooyeon keeps staring at the large pizza on the table in confusion, until Nakyoung notices and pokes her in the arm to get her attention, “it’s a pizza with ground beef, pepperoni, mushroom, and extra cheese, unnie—they use a lot of cheese, hence the pie-like visual”. “Ah, I see”, Yooyeon nods after hearing the explanation.

You take a slice from the box and start eating, followed by the three girls. “I’ve eaten this pizza so often, but it still amazes me every time. You really know your way around food, don’t you, Xinyu-yah?”, Nakyoung remarks. “Of course, food is the second thing I love the most in this world after oppa”, Xinyu says before exclaiming at the taste of her favorite pizza. “I love you too”, you wipe your mouth with a napkin before pecking Xinyu on the cheek. Xinyu blushes after hearing your words and receiving a peck, as she tries to hide her face behind the slice of pizza in her hand. “You two are so cute”, Yooyeon comments, not helping Xinyu overcome the heat on her cheeks.

The four of you start talking about a bunch of topics, from how Yooyeon initially wanted to join the university’s council but got rejected, how Nakyoung met Yooyeon for the first time and thought that she was a cold and scary person, and, at Yooyeon’s request, how you and Xinyu started dating. You explain that you had known Xinyu for a while as a fellow member of the council during freshman year but only admired her from afar. The two of you were then placed in the same group for a community service project the president at the time had come up with. “Xinyu was crying alone after the first day because of how exhausting and hard it was, so I mustered up the courage to approach her and offered to take her to dinner because I always hate seeing a girl cry, no matter what reason she might have. I actually was so scared that she would push me away instead of taking my offer”, you explain to the small crowd in front of you. It’s now Xinyu’s time to tell her side of the story; “I saw how kind oppa really is behind his rich guy façade; he was super helpful and attentive to everyone that day and there was no way I would’ve pushed him away—I wanted him for myself”. Xinyu leans against your shoulder before continuing her speech, “After our first time having sex, he revealed that I was his first and all I could think about was how I hoped he had been my first as well—I’m so sorry, oppa”. You squeeze her hand, “there’s nothing to be sorry for, love. You’re here with me now”.

Everyone has dispersed from the dining table and is now in their own worlds. Yooyeon is looking at notes on her tablet, Nakyoung is lying on the sofa with her eyes closed, Xinyu is chilling in the bedroom, and you’re sitting on the toilet with your phone in hand. You’re mindlessly scrolling through social media until you see a notification from Xinyu. It’s a picture of her lying in bed in her pajamas with one of the dolls you bought for her. “How cute”, you think to yourself. She sees that you’re not replying to her, so she expresses her unhappiness, “>: say something already”. “I’m busy, bby”, you reply to her before flushing the toilet and cleaning your ass. You’re on your way to the bathroom door as it swings open seemingly on its own. Xinyu barges into the bathroom and locks the door behind her. She puts her hands on your chest and pushes you to the wall, “if you won’t give me the attention I want, I’ll get it myself”. She pulls your shorts and boxers down together as she kneels in front of you, making your cock spring out of its restraints instantly.

“We could’ve done so much more had you given me the attention I wanted”, she’s doing her best to instill regret and guilt in your heart. Her hand is wrapped around your cock tightly and you don’t want to make her mad even more because you don’t want her to break your cock. “P-princess, they’re still here. We can do this later”, you persuade her. “I don’t care, they can go suck cock if they want”, she says before taking you in her mouth. The wetness and warmth of Xinyu’s mouth sends shivers down your spine. You dare hold her hair in your hand as she bobs her head up and down your shaft while gagging every now and then. “P-princess”, you mutter before moaning, “you’re so good, baby”. She instantly removes you from her mouth and squeezes your cock, “stay quiet if you want to make it out of this alive”. “Oh, fuck—I’m-I’m sorry, please don’t break my penis”, you say to the angry-but-horny girl kneeling in front of you.

She accepts your apology for now and gets back to stuffing her face with your cock. You don’t want to upset her considering how vulnerable you are at the moment, so you do nothing but moan. She removes your cock from her mouth once again when she feels it twitch in her mouth, “I’ll let you cum if you ask nicely”. You take a deep breath before ‘asking nicely’, “please let me cum, princess”. “Not good enough, but I’ll take it for now”, she says before letting you in her mouth once again. It doesn’t take long until your cum is accumulated on the tip of your cock. Xinyu knows this, so she goes deeper until she reaches the base of your cock. “I’m cum-ming”, you say with heavy breaths, “princess, please”. Your cock blows a load as soon as you say that, and Xinyu tries her best to not let a drop leak out of her mouth.

You lean back against the wall to catch your breath, feeling drained—quite literally—by Xinyu’s little stunt. You look down at Xinyu who is still on her knees, and you see her gulp down your load into her stomach. “Xinyu, baby”, you say with heavy pants, “thank you, that was really good”. “Of course, oppa. I love you—I’ll drain your soul the next time you ignore me, though”, she rises to her feet and wipes her mouth before pecking your cheek. “Now how do we get out of this place?”, you ask her for ideas. “Just walk out, we’re adults”, she shrugs. You do as she suggested and walk out of the bathroom as casually as possible. Yooyeon sees the two of you walking out together and covers her face with some papers. You see Xinyu give her a wink and gesture to her to stay quiet.

Xinyu then walks to the sofa and poke Nakyoung in the arm, “Naky-yah, are you staying the night or what?”. Nakyoung wakes up slowly from her peaceful nap on your sofa, “hngh, what time is it?”. You look at the clock above the TV, “about 7.30 pm”, you tell the sleepy cat. Nakyoung rises and walks to the fridge like a zombie, “I’m tempted to stay but I imagine you two want some private time”, she says. You can tell that her playfulness hasn’t returned to her entirely, as shown by how she hasn’t bantered or teased anyone yet. She takes a few gulps of fridge-cold water out of her bottle—she visits your apartment a lot so a few months ago she decided to leave a bottle in your fridge so that she wouldn’t drink from one of yours—and turns to you, “did you guys have fun when I was asleep?”. Xinyu answers her right away with confidence, “I did—I don’t know about oppa, though”, she says, hinting at sex. Nakyoung smirks as she walks back to the sofa, “if you had fun, then so did oppa, most likely”.

Nakyoung spends another 30 minutes lying on your sofa while on her phone, while Yooyeon is still busy with studying. “Unnie, I think we should leave soon”, she says to the studying goddess as she gets up. “Hm? Oh, yeah, sure”, Yooyeon says as she starts tidying up her papers and tablet. Nakyoung takes Yooyeon’s hand and walks to the door with her. “Thank you for the hospitality, you two”, Yooyeon bows slightly and waves at you and Xinyu. “You should hang out with us more, Yooyeon-ah. See you at the interview— byeee”, you say as they exit the door and close it behind them.

Seeing that the coast is now clear, Xinyu runs to you and jumps at you, so you catch her with both arms. “I’m tired, oppa. Take me to bed, please”, she says with a cute whiny voice. You peck her temple and carry her to the bed as requested. You set Xinyu on the bed with you on top of her body, and she immediately wraps her long limbs around your body. “Stay, please”, she says, acting cute to convince you to do what she wants, “I can feel you poking me down there, by the way”. It’s not that you’re horny, it’s just that you’re long—almost too long, “I’m sorry, sweetie”. “I’m horny and tired at the same time, which one do I choose, oppa?”, she pinches your cheek playfully. “I suggest sleeping, love. I don’t know if I have another load for you and I would hate to disappoint”, you kiss her forehead apologetically. “Hmph you’re no fun, oppa, but I love you so I’ll listen to you”, Xinyu pouts and lets you go from her strangling limbs.

It is now Friday. You and the usual suspects will be interviewing the candidates that Yooyeon told you about a few days ago. Nakyoung gave each candidate freedom to choose the place of the interview, and they both chose the multipurpose meeting room in the library building, so now you and Xinyu make your way to the appointed place—one problem, though: there’s quite a commotion in front of the meeting room. “You’re holding an interview, aren’t you? I know you are. Why aren’t you letting me in?”, the guy is shouting at Nakyoung who’s holding the line at the door. You see that Nakyoung is in deep distress, but you want to observe the situation a little bit more before jumping in. That is when you see the guy lay his hands on Nakyoung, which you’re not a fan of—Xinyu’s friends are your friends, and you’re not letting harm come their way. “Listen to her and just leave, man. We’ll pretend this never happened”, you say with a serious voice and grab him by the shoulder.

Surprisingly, the guy thinks that it’s a good idea to get violent and punches you in the face as he turns around, “SHUT THE FUCK UP”, he yells out. Nothing could’ve prepared you for a punch in the face, so you took a few steps back in surprise. Xinyu rushes to your aid in panic while screaming, “oh my God, oppa! Oppa, are you okay? Somebody, get security!”. “Holy shit, you’re so fucked”, Nakyoung says to the guy, who only now figured out who he just punched, “out of all the people present, you chose to punch the president—absolutely incredible. You still expect us to accept you after seeing you act like this? We will make your life miserable for this, by the way; we don’t forget”. The guy approaches you slowly in fear, “I-I’m so sorry, sunbaenim, I don’t know what got into me. Are you okay?”. You sigh in disappointment, not because you just took a punch in the face, but because someone thought it was okay to be violent, especially on campus grounds. “I suggest finding a lawyer”, you say, angriness obvious in your voice. He kneels and bows in front of you to beg for forgiveness, “no, no, please. I’m so sorry. I’ve learned my lesson, sunbaenim, please”. You hear the boots of the security guards approaching, so you say your last piece to the brat, “you have not, but you will soon”.

Once you see that the security guards have control of the situation, you leave the scene and forcefully drag Xinyu and Nakyoung by their wrists into the room. “Op-oppa, you’re hurting me; please let go”, Nakyoung tries to pry your fingers off her wrist. You didn’t realize that you were holding their hands so tightly, so you let them go and apologize. “Thank you for saving me, guys”, Nakyoung sobs as she hugs Xinyu for comfort, “he-he was so adamant, and I got so scared”. “I’m glad he decided to punch me and not one of you”, you sigh, “where is Yooyeon, by the way?”. “I’m here”, Yooyeon says as she closes the door behind her, “what just happened? Why are there security guards?”. “Someone thought it was a good idea to punch Jisung-oppa”, Xinyu explains to the confused girl. Yooyeon shakes her head and sighs, “are you okay, Jisung-ah?”. You rub the spot where the punch landed and reply to her, “I’ll be fine—it hurts, though”.

You take a few minutes to catch your breath and process everything that just happened while Xinyu, Yooyeon, and Nakyoung brief each other about the upcoming interview. You soon hear some knocks on the door and a girl peeks into the room, “excuse me, we’re here for the interview”. “Oh, hello, you guys must be Dahyun and Chaeyeon”, Nakyoung greets them and lets them in. Dahyun gasps in surprise when she sees your face, “oh God, what happened to you, sunbaenim? Why is there a bruise on your face?”. “We can talk about that as we go. Please, have a seat and stop calling me and everyone else in this room ‘sunbaenim’. We’ll interview you guys at the same time, I hope that’s okay”, you gesture to the empty chairs on the round table, and they take a seat in them. “So, there’s something I need to explain before we start”, you start the conversation, “you guys are here because Governor Kim over here recommended that you be considered to be recruited into the university council because her faculty council is full”. They turn to Yooyeon and express their appreciation to her, which makes Yooyeon smile in shyness.

You take the first turn to ask them a bunch of questions, from what makes them interested in joining the council, what they think the council should be for students and the surrounding community, and if they’ll interested in becoming the president in the future. They answer each question with some of the best answers you’ve ever heard in your term as president, and you can tell that everyone in the room is impressed and is starting to like them. Xinyu and Nakyoung then take turns asking them questions of their own while Yooyeon opts to observe and listen in silence.

Once they’re done asking questions and getting answers, it’s the recruits’ turn to ask questions. Dahyun kicks off the session by asking you about your wound, “can I ask what happened to your face, oppa?”. “You can, Dahyun-ah”, you sigh, “someone punched me in the face after screaming at Nakyoung-ie because she didn’t let him join the interview—disappointing behavior, if you ask me”. Xinyu moves to you in her chair and grabs your hand, “are you actually pressing charges, oppa? I would love it if you did—no one gets to punch my boyfriend like that”. “He’s your boyfriend, unnie?”, Chaeyeon asks the vice president. Xinyu brings a palm to her forehead, “oh, right, I forgot that you’re not in our circle yet—yes, he is, and I love him and I hate seeing him get hurt. We’ll go get some ointment after this, oppa, okay?”. “The president and vice president are dating, unnie. Are we in a drama right now?”, Chaeyeon turns to Dahyun, who lets out a giggle.

The six of you spend more time getting to know each other better as individuals, and you can tell again that everyone is really interested in having them join the council and this small circle of yours. Nakyoung explicitly tells them about it; “I know we only met today but I know that everyone here likes the two of you, so I sincerely ask you to consider joining our little friend group once you’re formally accepted as members of the council. Your cute little governor here is also with us, by the way”, she says—the way she’s saying it makes it sound like it’s a circle of nepotism with leading figures of the council and a bunch of new recruits. Dahyun shyly accepts the invitation, “we would love that, unnie. Thank you for being so kind to juniors like us”.

The interview is now done, and you find yourself surrounded by 5 girls outside the library. “Oppa, I’m hungry. Can we get lunch?”, Xinyu tugs your hand. “We can, sweetie. Wanna invite the others as well?”, you reply to her. Xinyu turns to the others, “guys, we’re gonna go get lunch, wanna join us?”. Nakyoung and Yooyeon obviously nod in agreement, but Dahyun and Chaeyeon are hesitant. “You two can join us as well, no need to be shy. We’re your friends, just a bit older in age”, you say to them. Chaeyeon answers for herself and Dahyun, “we would love that, oppa, if that’s okay with you”. Nakyoung pinches Chaeyeon’s cheeks playfully, “we’re friends, God damn it. Start acting accordingly, will you?”. You lead them to your car that’s parked in the campus’ parking lot—the parking lot is not as packed on Fridays since the professors are usually doing other stuff off campus, and you managed to find one because you arrived early. Chaeyeon makes a comment when she sees your car, “OF COURSE HE’S RICH—oh my God, I’m so sorry, oppa”. You chuckle at her comment, “it’s okay, I’ve heard that a lot before. Come on, let’s get in”.

You find yourself sailing the slow sea of Friday afternoon traffic, thankfully it’s not as bad as usual. “Does anyone have any idea where we should go?”, you ask the crowd in your car. Dahyun raises her hands after mustering up as much confidence as she can, “can we go get burgers, oppa? There’s a good burger shop nearby—if-if everyone else agrees, that is”. Xinyu is the most excited one at the prospect, “we sure can, I looove burgers. Drive faster, oppa!”. You laugh at her words, “just admit that you love everything, sweetie”.

Dahyun wasn’t lying when she said it was near, as you are now parked in front of an alleyway where the burger shop is. “We’ve been students for so long, but we’ve never heard about this shop once”, you remark. Dahyun shyly confesses to the group, “Th-this place is my parents’, oppa. I-I wanted to promote my parents’ business since they only opened recently, I’m sorry”. Xinyu rushes to hug Dahyun from the side, “awww, how cute. You’re such a good daughter, Dahyun-ah”. Dahyun hides her face behind her palms before replying to Xinyu, “you’re so kind, unnie”. “Now you know why people fall for her, Dahyun-ah”, you say, bragging about your lovely girlfriend to your new friend.

Dahyun leads you into the shop and runs towards the cashier to hug the lady attending it. “Everyone, this is my mom, you can call her Mrs. Seo—duh. Mom, this the council’s president, vice president, secretary, and governor—obviously you know Chaeyeon already. We just became friends today”, she introduces everyone to her mom by pointing at you one by one. “Aigoo, you brought your friends, Dahyun-ah? Welcome, kids—oh my God, what happened to your face? Also, you don’t need to pay today since you’re Dahyun’s friends”, Dahyun’s mom says to your group. You don’t want to not pay, considering how much your friends eat and the fact that your friend’s parents own the place; “It’s a bit of a long story, madam. We would hate to not pay; we eat a lot, you see”, you try to convince her mom. “Okay but promise us you’ll come back. Now what can I get for you?”, Mrs. Seo asks you. You turn to Dahyun, who most likely knows what’s best here, “you have any recommendations, Dahyun-ah?”. “I mean, I think everything is good but I’m very biased”, she giggles.

Since this is your first time here, you decide to choose whatever catches your fancy, which happens to be a double cheeseburger with portobella mushroom and beef bacon. Everyone else then takes turns to order before leaving to find a place to sit together. Mrs. Seo tells you to join two tables together since they only have 4 chairs each, so you do as she says. While you wait, you decide to talk with your friends—you know, like friends do.

It takes about 20 minutes for the food to come out, not bad at all considering how big of an order it was. Mrs. Seo calls out to Dahyun to help carry the food to your table, so she stands up and heads to the kitchen to help. You see the visuals of each thing on the trays, and you can’t help but drool at the sight. “Holy sh—excuse my language—that looks so good!”, Nakyoung shows her enthusiasm to the food. You see that Yooyeon, who usually shows little emotions, has an excited face as well, and it brings joy to Mrs. Seo. “You are such sweet kids. I’m glad Dahyun can be friends with you”, she says. “The pleasure is ours, madam. Dahyun is such a sweet girl as well”, Xinyu says.

Dahyun and her mom set the trays on the table, and everyone jumps to get their stuff right away. Nakyoung is the first to take a bite, and she exclaims in excitement immediately, “oh my God, this is incredible—Mrs. Seo, this is amazing!”. “Omo, I’m so glad you like it”, she says before putting a big squeeze bottle on the table, “try this with the fries, will you? We’ve been developing a sauce recipe and would love to hear some feedback—Chaeyeon-ie has tried this before so she knows already”. Xinyu squeezes the sauce on a piece of fry and shoves it in her mouth, “oh my, that is glorious. What sauce is this, Mrs. Seo? Oppa, try this, quick!”. You take the bottle from Xinyu’s hands and do the same thing she did, and you instantly let out a satisfied groan thanks to the taste. “it’s minced garlic, chives, and white pepper mixed with mayonnaise and a little bit of my husband’s hot sauce—you know, you two look so cute together; have you considered dating?”, she explains. “They are indeed dating, madam”, Nakyoung answers for you with a laugh like the spokesperson that she often is. Mrs. Seo gasps, “oh, that’s so cute. Alright, I’m gonna stop bothering you guys—enjoy!”.

No one says anything for the rest of the meal as they savor every glorious bite of their food, letting out excited yelps and satisfied groans at the incredible taste. “Dahyun-ah”, you say after swallowing a bite, “would your parents be interested in getting some investment?”. “Look at him, flexing his wealth in front of his junior”, Nakyoung says. Dahyun’s eyes widen at your unexpected question, “I-I’ll need to ask my parents”, she says. “Can you please ask now? I’m curious what they’d say”, you push further. Dahyun sips her drink before running to the cashier and dragging his mom back to the table. “Mom, mom, president-oppa wants to invest in us!”, Dahyun excitedly says to her mom. Mrs. Seo’s turns her head to you in surprise, “do you actually?”. “I do, madam”, you say, as humble sounding as possible, “I think you can do great things with this business, hence my interest”. “I, I”, you see tears gathering in Mrs. Seo’s eyes, “thank you for the kind words, son. Yes, we would love to get an investment—what are the terms, though?”. “My family’s treasurer will reach out to your family in less than 7 business days, madam. You can discuss the terms with her—I’ll make sure it’s more favorable to you than me”, you say to her. “Please stand up, son”, Mrs. Seo says to you, so you do as she says. She hugs you warmly as she’s shedding (you hope) happy tears, “thank you so much, son; it means a lot to our family. How rich are you that your family has a treasurer, though?”. You answer her question with the answer your parents have taught you since you were a kid, “we are comfortable, madam”. She lets go of the hug and wipes her eyes, “I gotta call my husband; this is crazy! Dahyun-ah, isn’t this crazy?”. Dahyun bows to you, “thank you so much, oppa. We won’t forget your kindness”. You’re surprised to see her bow to you, so you grab her shoulders and make her straighten her back, “oh, c’mon, there’s no need to act like that”.

You excuse yourself and head to the back alley behind the shop to call your family’s treasurer, Mrs. Kwon Yuri. She picks up immediately after one ring, “Good afternoon, Mr. Jung. Can I help you?”. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Kwon”, you greet her, “I’m planning to make an investment in a burger shop owned by my friend’s family. Can you please handle it for me? I’ll send you their number after this”. Mrs. Kwon stays silent for a few seconds, but you hear her keyboard clacking over the phone, “I can, Mr. Jung; I will reach out to them in two days”. You feel a wave of relief in your heart, “sounds great, Mrs. Kwon. Be sure to make it favorable for them, please—5 or 10 percent is fine. Thanks for the help”. You send her their number after hanging up and with it, your investment will soon be confirmed, and they’ll get a small boost to grow their business.

Unbeknownst to you, Xinyu has been hiding around the corner waiting for you to end the call. She runs to you when she hears you hang up the phone and hugs you tightly. “My God, that is so sexy, oppa”, she says. “What is, baby?”, you say, unsure about what she’s referring to. “The fact that you’re willing to use your money to help someone else. I know it’s probably spare change for you but it’s still meaningful”, she looks at you straight in the eyes as her hands are on each side of your head. ”I was just trying to help, it’s not like they don’t deserve it—I mean, you know how good their stuff is”, you tell her. “Oh, I know, but you know what else is good?”, she smiles at you. “No?”, you say, oblivious. “My boyfriend’s lips on mine”, she says before pressing her lips against yours. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t like kissing Xinyu but kissing her in broad daylight in a back alley feels scandalous. You let your lips stay pressed against Xinyu’s for what feels like a few seconds before you push her away. “Baby, we can’t afford to get caught”, you bargain. “You’re right”, she sighs, “we’ll continue this later”.

You take her hand and enter the shop again. You see Dahyun and her mom crying while a man, who you assume is Mr. Seo, tries to calm them down. Dahyun then points a finger to you and the man walks up to you and reaches his hand out to shake yours. “You must be Jung Jisung”, the man says, “I’m Dahyun’s dad. Thank you so much for your help, son. It means a lot to us”. You’re surprised by how Dahyun’s family is reacting to your little feat, “I-I just wanted to help, sir. My friends and I really like the products your family is selling here”. Mr. Seo pulls you into a hug and you see that Nakyoung and Chaeyeon are leaning against Yooyeon’s shoulders on each side while sobbing. “What is happening, man?”, you think to yourself. Mr. Seo lets you go after a few seconds and shakes your hand one more time; “I need to go; I have two ladies to attend to”, he says, referring to his wife and daughter who are still weeping.

You sit down at the table again and ask your friends about what happened when you were away for that short a time. “They-they told us how hard it was to start this business, oppa”, Nakyoung holds back a sob before continuing, “they-they had to take a bunch of loans and barely had customers at the start—our tab today is one of the biggest ones they’ve had so far. Dahyun even had to do several part-time jobs to help her family’s economy”. Chaeyeon is making it obvious that she’s the most sensitive person in the friend group, as she cries even more after hearing Nakyoung’s summary of what has just happened. “They were over the moon when you said you were going to invest, and now the emotions have finally caught up to them”, Yooyeon says before wiping her eyes with a napkin. You realize that this is what your parents have been preaching for your whole life: to be able to help someone with what you have—especially money—no matter how big or small it is. You silently praise your parents and pray to whatever celestial being is up there for their health and safety.

You wait until everyone has calmed down before walking to the cashier to pick up the tab. “Ji-Jisung-ah”, Mrs. Seo’s emotions are still high as she keeps sobbing after all this time, “are you 100% sure you’re going to invest in us?”. “I am sure, madam. I’ve called the treasurer; she’ll reach out in two days. It’s the least I can do to help, madam”. Mrs. Seo opens her arms and hugs you, “thank you, son; thank you so much”. You close your eyes and savor the genuine emotions she’s showing you, “the pleasure is mine, madam; believe me”. She lets go and fiddles with the computer in front of her, “since you insisted on paying, everything will be ₩50.000 and I’m giving you a 10% discount—so what is that, then?”. Your eyes widen in surprise when you hear her words, “wait, no, no, no. Please, there’s no need for that”. You argue back and forth with Mrs. Seo until she agrees not to give you a discount. You hand her two ₩50.000 banknotes and tell her to keep the rest, which makes her bawl her eyes out again. You’re starting to feel terrible for making these people cry so much today, so you awkwardly walk back to the table so that you can get your friends to leave with you.

Everyone stands up when they’re finally ready to leave and file out of the door one by one except for Dahyun. Before it’s your turn to leave, Mr. Seo pulls you to the side and hugs you one more time. “Thank you for everything, Jisung-ah”, Mr. Seo says to your ear, “I would offer you my Dahyun but I was told that you have a girlfriend already”. Your eyes widen in shock, “That won’t be necessary ever, Mr. Seo. I don’t even know if Dahyun likes me like that—also she’s not anyone’s property, respectfully”, you whisper in his ear. He lets go of you and shakes your hand softly, so you reciprocate his gesture and do the same. “Oppa”, Dahyun calls out to you, “thank you so much for everything, seriously. I promise I’ll do my best in the council; I’ll do whatever you guys ask me to”. You smile at her, “I know you will, Dahyun-ah. I can tell that you’re a hardworking person as well”. Dahyun looks at the door and makes sure that the coast is clear before hugging you. “I know you have Xinyu-unnie but please let me have this for now”, she then gets on her tippy toes and pecks your cheek, which makes the two of you blush at the same time. “Thank you, Dahyun-ah. I wish you and everyone health and safety. See you soon, okay?”, you make to leave the restaurant and catch up with your friends.

You get back in the car and start driving again; everyone except Xinyu (obviously) asks you to take them back to campus, so you do as they ask and take them back there. They get off at the campus gate and wave at you as you leave, and now you’re left alone with Xinyu. “Let’s go home, oppa”, she says before reaching over and palming your cock, “I’m so fucking horny, oppa—if you hadn’t stopped me back in the alley, I would’ve got on my knees and sucked your cock”. You can feel your cock getting hard and your patience running thin, so you take a deep breath before replying to Xinyu, “patience, princess; we’ll get home before you know it”. You hope that your words were good enough to convince her to be patient, but they apparently weren’t, as she keeps palming your cock the rest of the way home.

You make it back to the parking lot of your building again. You stand next to the car and wait for Xinyu to get off. Instead of taking her hand and walk side by side, you lift her by her thighs and carry her to your destination. “You’re not getting away with being such a brat—you wanna palm my cock because you’re horny? Fine, I’ll show you horny”, you whisper aggressively in her ear. “You’re gonna make me pay, daddy?”, she whispers back, her voice laced with lust. You rush to your apartment and enter the bedroom straight away. Your lust-controlled brain doesn’t want to play nice, as it makes you drop Xinyu on the bed not-too-softly. Xinyu bites her bottom lip; “I like it when you’re rough”, she says, trying to rile you up more. You want to talk dirty with her, but you’re given another idea instead; “let’s make a deal: if you can make it through this session without cumming, I’ll buy you whatever you want—including Dahyun’s restaurant. Now pick a fucking safe word”. You take off everything you have on your body in front of her, and she bites her lip again, “Oh please, just who exactly do you think I am? Just come and punish me, daddy; use me, stretch me, choke me, cum in me—do whatever pleases you and I’ll take it like a good girl, because I am one”.

You pull her off the bed and onto her feet; “strip”, you command. “Yes, daddy” is her reply; short, but laden with obedience. She takes her sweet time to take off each thing and tries putting on a show for you, but since you’re now thinking with your cock and not your brain, you’re getting impatient; “I told you to strip, princess, not to take off your clothes”, you say as you palm her neck and squeeze it slightly while glaring right into her eyes—she’s taller than most people but you still tower over her (shoutout to dad for his genes). You see that she’s starting to get intimidated but still has her strong girl façade on, “hngh—patience, daddy, plea-please”. You let her neck go and she takes the rest of her clothes seemingly nervously, as seen by how her hands shake as she’s doing it. Xinyu gets back in bed when nothing is on her body, now ready to start the session. As much as you’re horny and rough, you’re never one to act without consent, so you ask the seemingly scared girl in your bed, “are you okay? Was I too mean? Do you want to keep going?”. “N-no, you’re okay—I’m okay”, she takes a deep breath and welcomes you to bed.

You get on top of her and start sucking and nibbling her neck, marking it with your lips as she moans and sighs at the contact. “You love marking me, right, daddy?”, she eggs you on, “you like showing people who I belong to, don’t you?”. You leave her neck when you see that it has a red spot on the side, knowing that it will turn into a decently sized hickey tomorrow, “Uh-huh; they’ll know if they haven’t already”, you say to her, “if you cover it with makeup, I will make you sleep on the sofa for a month”. She pleas her case, “but what if my professors see it?”. You shrug, “we’re adults—your words, not mine. Now stay still, I have things to do”.

You move to her breasts, putting one in your mouth while fondling the other. Xinyu has always been sensitive there, so you know it’ll be plenty of stimulation for her. “Daddy”, she sighs, “why do you like my breasts so much?”. You lift your mouth off so you can reply to her; “because they fit in my hands so well”, you palm a breast; a perfect handful in your hand, “can you feel how perfect it is in my hand?”. Xinyu nods to your question, “ye-yes, daddy; they’re perfect for you, just like the rest of my body”. “Good answer, princess—you should be able to feel this as well”, you pinch a nipple and tug, making Xinyu scream instantly, “oh, fuck, fuck—the-they’re sensitive, daddy”. You chuckle, “I know they are, but you’re mine to play with”.

You play with her tits a bit more before moving on. You opt to skip her tummy (no matter how firm and soft it looks) and go straight to her pussy. “Open your legs, princess”, you command her, and she instantly spread her long legs enough for you to fit your head between them. “I-I hope you like what you see”, she says with a blush on her cheeks. Honestly, how can you not like the sight despite having seen it a lot—her perfectly pink and glistening pussy is making you drool, literally. You dive into her pussy right away; your tongue is pressed against her entrance, threatening to invade it while your index finger is on her nub. Xinyu starts moaning and squirming around as you start licking her pussy, so you hold down her thighs so that you don’t miss your target. “Remember to hold your cum”, you remind the moaning girl. Her heavy breathing makes it hard for her to verbally answer you, so she just nods to your say.

“Op-oppa”, she calls out with heavy pants, “you-you’re gonna make me cum if you keep doing that”. You lift your face off her crotch and look at her in disbelief, “is that supposed to be a threat? You dare threat me, you slut? That’s the wrong name too, by the way”. Xinyu panics, “no-no, daddy; I would never—oh, fuck—I would never threaten you, I swear”. You plunge two fingers into her pussy, “that’s what I thought”. “Oh, fuck—daddy, please”, she lets out whiny moans. You know that she’s doing her best to hold off her orgasm, and you praise her for her efforts; even good girls have their limits, and hers is very close. You keep fucking her with your fingers until you feel her pussy squeeze them, indicating that she’s having her orgasm soon. True enough, she screams from the top of her lungs after a few seconds, “I’M-I’M CUMMING, FUCK!”. You pull your fingers out as she squirts her juices out and stroke her thighs to help her calm down. It takes a few minutes of moaning and whining until her mind is cleared and her high is dissipated. “You came”, you say with a fake disappointed voice. Realization of what just happened slaps her in the face, “I’m so sorry, daddy; please don’t punish me, I beg you. I-I’ll give you my mouth, I’ll give you my asshole—anything you want. Just don’t punish me, please”. “There’s no way she’s offering you her ass”, your brain says, “she’s never trained for it, has she? She’ll never be able to take your cock there—don’t take it, son”.

You decide to keep her in the dark and not tell her that you’re not getting in her ass because you’re naughty like that. “On your stomach, princess”, you command her, and you see that she’s nervous because she’s clueless as to what you have in mind. “I’m so dead; we’ve never trained my ass before and he’s getting in there—this is why you don’t run your mouth, Zhou Xinyu”, Xinyu thinks to herself. She gets even more scared when you lift her ass but not the rest of her body. You make her think that you’re going in her ass by asking her to spread her cheeks. Xinyu’s fear peaks when you put your thumb on her asshole and slather spit on it—she even sheds a tear because she’s that scared. “Look at it”, you say, “that must be so tight and snug”. “I guess this is how I die”, she thinks as more tears are released from her eyes, “he’s going in there dry, too—fuck, this will hurt like a bitch”. You remove your thumb and announce to her that you’re going in, so she closes her eyes and braces for the pain. To her surprise, you decide to plunge into her pussy instead, so Xinyu lets out a loud moan immediately; “oh, God, daddy, yes, yes—I’m your good girl, daddy”. A wave of relief washes over Xinyu; “he’s not getting in my ass!”, she thinks to herself.

You lean forward and whisper in Xinyu’s ear, “you thought I was gonna take your ass, didn’t you, princess?”. She moans before answering you, “ye-yes, daddy. I-I was so scared”. You laugh at her; you’d think she would know by now that you’d never do anything without her explicit and clear consent, but here she is, scared shitless at the prospect of losing her anal virginity to you. “I might not be taking your ass today, but I’m taking your pussy”, you say before pulling her gloriously thick jet-black hair. “It’s yours, daddy—I’m yours; take me anytime you want—oh, fuck, that’s so fucking deep”, she replies. You press Xinyu’s head into the pillow, “I’m cumming in your pussy and I want you to keep it in”. You feel her nod against your hand, and you pick up the pace of your thrusts.

You keep pumping her pussy deep and fast, just like how you like it. Xinyu is holding the pillow under her head with all her might, her knuckles turning white thanks to how hard she’s gripping it. You feel your lust peaking, so you give her rougher thrusts as your crotch makes clapping sounds when it hits Xinyu’s cheeks. Xinyu is moaning and screaming your name away, as she feels the rough thrusts you’re giving her; “I’m gonna feel this tomorrow”, she says in her head. You can feel your orgasm approaching, so you get in a squatting position without pulling out and keep thrusting into her pussy with all your strength. Xinyu knows this as well, so she eggs you on, “keep stretching me like that, daddy—oh, fuck, you’re in my belly”.

You start feeling tired from fucking her in such position. Thankfully for you, you’re so close to cumming as well. “Princess”, you say with heavy breathing, “I’m so close”. She turns her head to see you over her shoulder, “yes, daddy; I’m so close as well—oh, fuck—please let me cum with you”. You’re reminded of her words a few days ago when you said you were close, and you decide to use it against her, “I’ll let you cum if you ask nicely”. She takes a deep breath so that she can ‘ask nicely’, “daddy, please, let me cum with you—I’m-I’m begging you, daddy”. Satisfied with her answer, you pet her head; “good job, princess”. To make sure that she indeed cums with you, you reach around her waist and rub her clit as you’re fucking her.

Your orgasm finally hits after some more thrusts. You plug your cock deep into her and start shooting your cum deep into Xinyu’s pussy; at the same time, Xinyu’s legs quiver thanks to her second orgasm—no squirting this time, unfortunately. You stand up on the bed after all your cum is released into her; “if you let it leak out, I’m taking your ass”, you threaten her falsely. You know that Xinyu lacks training, so unless she trains her ass, you’re not getting in there—unless she decides to act like a brat again. Xinyu doesn’t know that it was a fake threat, so she keeps her ass up to prevent your cum from leaking out while she tries her best to catch her breath.

You jump off the bed and leave to get water and towel, “be right back, princess”. When you return, she still has her ass up because at heart, she is very obedient and just wants to please her boyfriend as much as she can. “Daddy”, she calls out with teary eyes, “can-can I put my ass down now? I’m s-starting to get tired”. You feel a rush of guilt in your heart because she actually fell for the false threat; “you can, princess. Just relax, okay?”, you say as you guide her waist down by pressing down on the small of her back until she’s flat on the bed. “I’m gonna wipe your body with this towel, okay, princess?”. You see her nod, so you start wiping her body from her nape down to her legs, making sure not to miss a spot as you go. You roll her over onto her back to clean the other side of her body and that’s when you see the messy makeup on her face—solid proof that tears were running down her cheeks. “I’m so sorry, princess”, you stroke her cheeks softly with your thumb, “I was so rough on you, wasn’t I?”. She sniffles before answering you, “you-you were, but it’s okay; nothing I’m not used to”. “Can I clean that makeup for you, or do you want to do it yourself?”, you ask her. She reaches out to grab the towel from your hands and wipe her face with it, “this should be enough”. She then returns the towel to you so you can clean the rest of her body.

“Honey”, you call out to her, “wanna shower or no?”. She sighs in exhaustion, “no, too tired—you can shower if you want”. You jump back in bed and lie next to her; “no, too tired”, you return her words. She gathers all her might and scoots over so that she can cuddle you; “I hope that was satisfactory”, she says. You peck her head, “of course it was. Thank you very much, love”. “I was so scared that you were going to fuck me in the ass, daddy”, she hasn’t dropped the name yet, “you know I’ve never trained my ass so I thought you were gonna take my anal virginity raw and dry—I mean sure, it’s only right that I give you that but I was super scared”. You stroke the back of her head softly, “we can talk about that later, sweetie—just know this: I would never do anything to you without your clear and explicit consent, so until I hear that you’re ready to take me in your ass, I’m not fucking you in the ass. I promise you that”.

She hums in understanding—you can tell that she’s grateful too—but is then reminded about the deal from earlier, “so I guess you’re not buying me whatever I want since I came?”. You let out a chuckle, “what do you want to get, sweetie?”. She blushes when she realizes that she didn’t lose the deal because of how sweet and kind you really are behind all those façades, “oh-oh, um, I-I wa-want burgers and fries from Dahyun’s place again, oppa”. You nod to her, “sure, love. We can go after this if you want”.

You and Xinyu get back in the car after regaining energy and showering, as you two are now on your way to Dahyun’s restaurant for the second time today. When you arrive, you see that Dahyun’s attending the cashier this time. She sees you two in front of the door and rushes to open it for you, “oppa, unnie, welcome back!”. “Hey, baby. Nice to see you again”, Xinyu hugs the girl in front of her. “We promised we would return so here we are”, you say to her. “Where are the others, though?”, Dahyun asks. “No idea; we just had sex at home and came here after cuddling and showering”, Xinyu utters oh-so-brazenly. “OH MY GOD! UNNIE!”, Dahyun covers her ears and runs away from the two of you. You palm your face, “I’m so sorry, Dahyun-ah; you didn’t need to hear all that”. Dahyun fans her cheeks with her hands to fight her blush, “oh my, how could you say that so casually—wh-what can I get for you guys this time?”. You pinch Xinyu’s cheek for her little shenanigan before turning to Dahyun and repeat your order from this afternoon; “oh, can we get 2 more fries and that sauce again? So 4 fries in total and the sauce”, you ask her. “Of course you can, oppa. Please wait at the table for your food”.

Dahyun brings a tray of food to you after about 15 minutes. She thinks that she can waltz away after that, so you call out to her, “where on God’s green earth do you think you’re going, Dahyun-ah?”. Surprised to hear you call her that way, she walks back to you your table awkwardly, “I-I’m sorry?”. “Why do you think we ordered 4 burgers?”, you point at the empty seat next to Xinyu, “have a seat with us. We can have a little chit-chat—you can get back to work if there’s another customer coming”. “Uwuwu, my baby”, Xinyu peppers Dahyun’s face with pecks. “I’m sorry, oppa, but is unnie always like this?”, Dahyun asks you. “No, only to people she likes”, you say with a smile, indicating to her that she’s one of those people.

No other customer ends up coming, so you have the entire restaurant to yourselves. “Dahyun-ah, would you be able to cater for the entire council? I would love to introduce your products to our staffs”, you say before shoving another piece of fry coated in sauce, “holy shit, that is glorious—you know what, we’ll pay for this bottle of sauce since we’re probably finishing this”. “Oppa”, she says with a soft voice, “you.. are you serious?”. You’re not sure what she’s talking about, “pardon?”. “Are you serious about asking us to cater for the council? That’d be, like, our biggest sales so far”, she says, tears threatening to burst out of her eyes for the second time today. “Let’s ask Xinyu what she thinks”, you point to the girl sitting next to Dahyun. “I agwee wif offa”, she says with a full mouth before swallowing her food, “ehm, excuse me—yes, I agree with oppa’s idea; we should introduce this to everyone. We’ll need the sauce as well, by the way”.

Dahyun sits in silence before covering her face to hide her tears; “oppa, unnie, why are you guys so kind to us? First it was the investment and now this?”, she says with trembling voice. Xinyu hugs the crying girl, “because we love you and we love your food, baby”. If Xinyu was calling another guy “baby”, you would flip out, but you don’t mind since it’s Dahyun. “I know that we sound like a broken record, but we genuinely love the food here. Can you give me an estimation as to when you think you’ll be able to do it?”, the way you say it makes you sound like your dad right now. Dahyun sniffles and gathers her mind to think of an answer, “um, probably in a few weeks; I need to talk with my parents, though”. “Very cool”, you clap your hands once, “we’ll be having a meeting with everyone in the council at the end of September. We’ll tell them to come with an empty stomach”.

You’re now ready to leave the restaurant after finishing your burgers, fries, and a whole bottle of sauce. “We’re gonna need to hit the gym this weekend”, you think to yourself. You’re standing in front of the cashier with Dahyun and Xinyu, and that’s when Xinyu excuses herself and runs to the toilet. Dahyun keeps her eyes on Xinyu until she disappears behind the toilet door and walks up to you slowly. You’re not too sure what she’s trying to do, so you opt to let things run their course for now. She wraps her arms around your nape and pulls you down for a kiss. As she’s kissing you, you can’t help but notice how soft her lips are. Dahyun then pulls away from the kiss after a few seconds; “I swear I’ll find a way to repay you, just wait—also, don’t think that I didn’t see your mark on unnie’s neck; sex with you must be amazing, oppa”, she says before taking a few steps back to avoid Xinyu’s suspicion. “You’re saying a lot of nonsense right now, darling”, you say in a quiet voice—that’s another pet name spilling out of your lips and Dahyun catches it right away. “Darling, hm? I like the sound of that, darling”, she winks at you and walks away. Perfect timing, really, because you see that Xinyu is opening the toilet door and about to walk out.

You close your eyes and put a palm on your forehead; “what is happening right now, man?”. Life is throwing another girl at you, and you’re not sure why because you already have a girlfriend—a lovely one at that. You take a deep breath before holding your girlfriend’s hand and leading her out of the door. You take a glance at Dahyun over your shoulder, and you see her wink at you once again. “I’m so fucking cooked”, you think to yourself.

#girl group smut #triples smut #kpop smut #smut #kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction #male reader smut #male reader

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nereidprinc3ss · 9 months ago

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okay i know this is kind of a specific request but can you do something with professor Spence and uni reader where they get into a spat and argue bc she did something stupid and he gets mad and she’s like “noooo pls don’t be mad i hate when you’re mad at me I’m sorry🥺” bc she literally cannot function knowing she let him down (me with everybody) but he’s like super stubborn and goes all closed up and quiet so that he doesn’t like blow up on her until she finally says like “pls talk to me” and he’s all pissed and like “hell na bitch u crazy!🗣️‼️” but then later he’s like “it’s ok i love u but neva do that shit again ho” then they make up and it’s good again 🎀 ok i explained that so poorly (and comedically if i may) but i hope u get it and pls make it SO DRAMATIC bc I live for drama! like she steals test answers or something or does something that could like get her kicked out of school OR him lose his job 🤔 sigh … idk I’m leaving now. Also i LOOPOOOCE ORRKGOOVI love your fics. Luv em

hey girl (gender neutral) this made me laugh bc genuinely sometimes i write spencer so ooc that is what he sounds like. and i'm not sorry! anyway this is potentially a vyvanse fueled nightmare but i wrote it and i'm posting it MY BLOG MY RULES BITCHESSSS!!!! but genuinely read the content warning LMAO this one got a lil kick to it

warnings/tags: ANGST, HURT/COMFORT, fem!reader, spencer and r get into a for real argument like they're mean to each other, spencer is a lil toxic but its resolved, emotionally neglects reader just for a teeensy second but then he's really nice and sweet again, discussion of his past addic+ion, gets fluffy because i'm not EVIL, gets suggestive at the end bc i am secretly evil.......

a/n: i don't know whats happening. this confuses me just as much as it confuses you. its 3 am in the morning. im gonna post nice happy things soon. Gootbye

“I cannot believe you right now. I don’t even—I don’t even know what to say.”

“Spencer, you don’t have to say anything. It has nothing to do with you, and I’m not looking for your approval.”

He looks up from where he’d been rubbing his temples, like you’re a headache, eyebrows raised and lips parted in indignant disbelief.

“Oh! You’re not looking for my approval? Well thank god for that, because if you were one of my students I would recommend expulsion to the board.”

“Are you fucking kidding me? I just said I don’t care about your opinion on this, much less your hypothetical opinion from some alternate universe where you have any authority over my education whatsoever.”

“You distributed an answer key to half of your class! Objectively this is the kind of thing that gets people expelled. I don’t understand how someone so smart could do something so fucking stupid.”

The words bite more than you were prepared for—but what hurts even more is how much he seems to mean them. In arguments past you’d both said things you didn’t mean, and then would immediately melt into I’m so sorry’s and the fight would resolve itself. Spencer’s clenched jaw and inability to make eye contact with you do not lend themselves to tender apologies. They cannot be attributed to miscommunication.

You take a step closer to where he’s bracing himself against the countertop, arms crossed defensively in front of your chest.

“Spencer, I’m sorry. I didn’t think it was such a big deal. People cheat in college all the time.”

Still no reply. His head shakes so minutely you wonder if you’re imagining it. Panic wells in your chest.

“Please talk to me. I really hate when you ice me out. I’m sorry, okay? Just... please say something.”

Finally, his eyes slide to you. They lack the fiery anger of moments ago but there’s not much softness there either. His normally warm gaze now feels too abrasive, too cold and sharp on your bare skin. You're exposed, much too soft for that grating look, and it feels like he can see everything that’s wrong with you.

“Believe me when I tell you this. I am doing us both a favor by not speaking to you right now.”

And then he’s leaving the kitchen—nothing but a breeze against your cheek and the sound of a door slamming to prove he was ever there.

The apartment is silent. You stand in the middle of the kitchen, unsure of what to do next. Spencer very, very rarely gets angry at you to the point of neglect, and you know he’s doing his best with what was modelled for him as a child and his tendency to feel things so deeply it’s nearly disabling; but that doesn’t make it hurt much less. It doesn’t make you feel less abandoned or alone.

You’re sad, and you’re still pissed, and maybe you’re in just a bit of shock as you robotically move back to your nest of blankets on the couch and resume your schoolwork. What else is there to do? Unless Spencer is right—unless you really are about to get expelled after getting the answer key for an upcoming test from a friend, who then gave it to another friend, and so on. But is that really your fault?

It’s a struggle to stay focused as your mind keeps drifting back to Spencer in the other room, those cruel words and that cold steely look in his eye that isn’t supposed to ever be aimed at you. It’s not a secret that side of him exists, but it doesn’t belong in this apartment. It’s not something he needs to use against you. He’s supposed to be on your side. But instead, he’d said you should be expelled and essentially called you stupid. And now you’re doing homework for a class at a school you may not even be a student of come Monday.

---------------------------------------------------

The sound of the office door opening forty-five minutes later spikes your blood pressure and simultaneously makes your heart flutter, because no matter how mad at him you might be, Spencer is still Spencer.

He comes to stand behind the couch quietly, but you don’t acknowledge him. Maybe your typing gets a bit more aggressive, but aside from that you flat out reject his presence.

“Can we talk?”

You let him sweat for a minute as you finish your paragraph.

“I don’t know, Spencer. Can we? Or are you not done with your temper tantrum?”

“That is... well deserved,” he sighs, rounding the couch and tapping the bottom of your foot, signaling that he wants you to move your legs. You despise how automatically you comply, pulling your knees to your chest to avoid touching him as he sits next to you. There’s a long moment of silence, in which you resume typing. Spencer scoffs, leaning in slightly to peer at your screen. “Are you doing homework right now? I’m a complete asshole to you and you just... do your homework?"

“What the fuck else was I supposed to do?” you almost-yell, slamming your laptop shut and blinking away potential tears. “The only person I wanted to talk to called me stupid and fucking left!”

The tears realize their potential once you admit the blunt truth.

Spencer carefully moves your laptop and pulls you into his arms—and you just let him. There’s not much fight left in you. There wasn’t a lot to begin with.

“I am so sorry, angel. You’re right, I shouldn’t have done that. I shouldn’t have yelled, I shouldn’t have said what I said, I shouldn’t have walked away. I overreacted.”

“Yeah, you really did,” you cry, allowing him to run his hand over your hair. “Why did you do that? Why were you so fucking mean?”

His voice shakes slightly as he responds, betraying his own anxieties, and a new, unwelcome sense of trepidation slithers through your veins.

“I was wondering that, too. Even as I was saying it, I knew—I knew it wasn’t what I wanted to be saying. And then I was in the other room and I wanted to be out here, and I couldn’t figure out why I wasn’t. But I think I was just scared. Which—I know, doesn’t really make sense, but... I think about when Ethan dropped out of the academy, and ended up doing heroin in New Orleans for three years, and I think about when I almost left the BAU because I was so convinced I’d never get clean that I didn’t even want to anymore, and—and the idea of you losing your education and your direction like that terrified me, probably unreasonably, and I took it out on you. And I’m sorry.”

“But I’m not like you or Ethan. You don’t have to worry about that. Even if I... even I do get in some sort of disciplinary trouble. That’s a road you don’t have to worry about me going down, ever.”

He fixes some unseen wrinkle on your shirt.

“Yeah, but, remember... I used to not be like me or Ethan either. Do you think twelve-year-old Spencer would have ever even considered that of the infinite realities and universes which exist, he was living in one where someday he’d be shooting up in the bathroom at work?”

“Mm-mm,” you hum, shaking your head and burying your face in Spencer’s shoulder. The sound is more of a plea for him to be less descriptive than an answer to his rhetorical question. It’s still much easier for him to talk about that part of his life than it is for you to have to actually imagine it. You didn’t know him then, but you’ve seen pictures, and you know Spencer now, and it’s... it’s just too much. Too sad.

“Okay,” he agrees soothingly, still playing with your hair. “I digress. My point is that literally anything is possible, and while it’s not necessarily likely, I more than anyone know that anxiety even over the most improbable of things is never completely unfounded.”

You sniffle in response, too emotionally and physically exhausted to contribute much to the conversation by this point. Thankfully, Spencer can talk for two. An idiosyncrasy which you love and comes in handy every once in a while. He can play his own devil’s advocate; in this case, you.

“But that doesn’t mean I get to take it out on you. Ever. I truly, truly, sincerely apologize for that. I never want to hurt you.”

You let the apology sink into your skin like a salve, soothing every abrasion those earlier words had left in their violent wake.

After a few minutes, you find the energy to ask a question that might best remain unanswered.

“Are you still mad at me?”

He’s quiet for a beat, seemingly contemplative as his fingers trace abstract patterns in a language all his own on your arm.

“I’m not thrilled. But you were right earlier. It’s not my place to be mad at you for something like that.”

“Mm... it’s a little bit your place. You’re an actual professor.”

He chuckles.

“At an entirely different university.”

“Thank god,” you laugh. “You and me at the same school would be such an HR clusterfuck.”

While it’s almost a serious matter, the smile in his voice is evident.

“Yeah... I, uh... try not to think about it.”

“Okay, but seriously. In your professional opinion. Am I fucked? Like, do I need to prepare an appeal and character witnesses or whatever?”

Spencer sighs.

“It was incredibly reckless and irresponsible. You should be ready for disciplinary pushback from the schoolboard if you get caught. That being said... because over sixty of you got a hold of the answer key, I doubt anyone is getting expelled, and even if they did, it would likely only be the TA and the student he gave the key to. It’s my tentative, professional opinion that you’ll probably be fine.”

You relax slightly, allowing a tension you didn’t realize was there to shed like an old skin.

“I’m not gonna cheat again,” you promise on an exhale. It’s simply too much risk for too little reward.

Spencer’s response is quiet, and comes much faster than you’d expected.

“Oh, I know you aren’t. Because if you do, you’re going to have to worry about disciplinary action from me. And I’m not nearly as nice as the dean of your school, darling girl.”

But something about the way he says it—a thinly veiled threat/promise contrasted by a sweet kiss to your forehead—doesn’t exactly make academic honesty look all that exciting.

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you

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lelengerine · 8 months ago

Text

now playing... "show and tell"

pairing | basketball varsity!chenle x artist!reader

synopsis | draw a pretty boy and perhaps he'll come to you.

genre | just literal 3 am fluff thoughts, bball player chenle slight brainrot, no specific prns are used (lmk if there's anything i've missed!)

wc | 0.9k

notes | so... i'm back and it's been a long while 😄 kinda forgot about tumblr for a sec but i hope you guys still remember me TT i was pretty much in a slump + acads were crazy, however!!! i am back!!! somewhat!!! likes and feedback are always appreciated (also new post layout yayy)

m.list

the air inside the school’s gymnasium has always felt humid as it clings to your skin like a damp blanket. the place has the distinct scent of sweat — entire buckets of it actually — while the occasional skid of sneakers on the rubber floor sends involuntary shivers down your spine. it’s hardly a place one would choose for peace of mind, yet here you are, perched on the bleachers, busily drawing on your sketchpad all because of a boy.

honestly, you wouldn’t be willingly subjecting yourself to this either if he wasn’t so… pretty. he sported vibrant orange hair that matched him well, the tips sticking together from the sweat on his forehead. his cheeks were flushed from from the heat, but that didn’t bother him one bit as he energetically ran around the court. but it's his smile that captivates you the most, its brightness rivaling that of the sun, his eyes forming playful whiskers as they crinkle into crescents — a sight you've translated onto the pages of your sketchbook more times than you’d like to admit.

how were you supposed to turn down drawing someone like him as an art student? one that’s in an art slump no less.

curse all pretty men, you tell yourself as your pencil scritches over the surface of your sketchbook.

you weren’t even acquainted to him one bit. in fact, you’ve only learned of his name around a week ago? it was zhong chenle if your memory serves you right.

your friend had told you he was the famous ace of your school’s basketball team, mostly for being able to make shots from such large distances. she was shocked you weren’t even aware of the boy when he was usually the talk of the entire student body, especially during the time championship season rolls around.

hell, you don’t even care much for the sport, but he’s making you second guess that too with the way he moves so effortlessly — like he was made to play this sport. perhaps you could understand the infatuation many others harbor for him… just a tiny bit.

you continue your sketch nonetheless, stuck erasing and re-drawing a certain line that doesn’t want to bend in your favor. it seems to have taken all of your focus, as you don’t even register the sound of footsteps approaching you. a tap is placed on your shoulder, and you turn around to find the exact boy you’ve been drawing for the entirety of his varsity practice.

“is that supposed to be me?” his words are laced with intrigue, accompanied by a gentler smile than you're accustomed to, yet just as captivating in its own right — wait. why is he even here talking to you? peeking at your drawings no less?

“nope. it’s not.” you lie through your teeth without an ounce of hesitation, flipping to the cover of your sketchbook faster than he utter out another word.

“please, who else even has orange hair here?”

“who said the person i was drawing was even real? for all you know, he could be an anime character.” you counter, trying to deflect his curiosity.

“yeah, totally explains why you’ve been hanging out here more lately.” he retorts, raising his finger in mock admonishment, his playful smirk betraying his teasing tone. “don’t think i haven’t noticed you, cause i have.”

“what are you? some security guard keeping records of the people who come to the gym?” you muse, meeting his gaze with a hint of amusement.

he leans in a bit closer, voice lowering conspiratorially. “well, maybe I've been keeping an eye out for someone who appreciates my... what should i call it? anime character potential?”

your heart skips a beat at his proximity, but you maintain your playful demeanor. "oh, is that what you're calling it now? i just needed a little inspiration and the confines of the art room weren’t doing it for me.” technically what you said is true, he doesn’t need to know that he’s actually the main reason your artist block has subsided.

his grin widens, a playful sparkle in his eyes. “inspiration, huh? well, i can guarantee you'll be entertained with me around.”

“you don’t need to keep me entertained, i do that already on my own.”

“oh yeah? by watching me?”

“you just want to fuel your ego, don’t you.”

“maybe a little.” his eyes smile, voice taking on a teasing lilt, "what else have you been sketching lately? any other anime characters i should know about?"

you laugh, a nervous pitter patter dancing in your chest at the prospect of sharing more of your work with him. these were your prized possessions after all. "oh, you know, just the usual. random doodles here and there."

he only beams at your response, leaning back slightly as if to better admire your reaction. "well, i’d love to see more of your usual sometime. maybe you could show me what else you've got hidden in that sketchbook of yours."

the invitation catches you off guard, and for a moment, you're at a loss for words. "uh, sure. yeah, maybe sometime," you stammer, mentally kicking yourself for not sounding more confident in front of him.

but before the conversation can continue, a shrill whistle cuts through the air, signaling the end of chenle’s supposed water break. he glances towards the court, a regretful expression flickering across his face. "looks like i’ve got to go," he says, pushing himself off the bleachers and standing up. "but hey, don't forget about our little art show-and-tell date, okay?”

hold on, did he just call it a date? "hey, wait a moment-" you try calling after him, yet he's already disappeared onto the court. that wasn’t anywhere close to a proper invitation, but your heart flutters at the thought nonetheless.

fine, you conclude to yourself — if it’s a date he wants, then you suppose you could spare some more time for him.

#nct fluff #nct dream fluff #chenle fluff #zhong chenle fluff #nct imagines #nct dream imagines #nct drabbles #nct dream drabbles

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budbuddnbuddy · 11 months ago

Text

Little obey me headcanons (pt3)

(Pt4)

A/n: uhhh not really sure what to say here, but I’m glad my posts are getting the attention similar to what I had when I first picked up writing fanfics and headcaons. Thank all of you so much hope all of you had a wonderful Christmas.

As MC spends more time in the Devildom and makes more pacts with the brothers, they’ll start to have a slightly more evil look to them. Get what I mean? Like how Megan Fox has “evil beauty.” However its not as visible, they’ll still look like your normal boring human first glance.

“The celestials know every language in the human wor-“ *LOUD INCORRECT BUZZER* Sorry but I respectfully hate this headcaon with all my heart, it doesn’t make sense. Sure these guys are immortal powerful beings that have lived for millions and billions of years, but they don’t even keep up with the human world like that and that’s CANON. Also if we’re looking at it through their perspective where as a hundred years is literally just a couple of blinks, humans would be making new languages every second.

They probably know 2-6 MAX, and that’s not me underestimating them that’s me saying that they either don’t have the time or will to care about 7,139 OFFICIAL languages there are in the human world. But enough of that let’s dive into the languages that they can speak.

Lucifer: English, French, Italian. and a little bit of Japanese due to Levi but not enough to be fluent. Mammon: English, Spanish. Levi: English, Korean, Japanese, and sign language. (idk if that counts) Satan: English, Mandarin Chinese, Japanese, French, Spanish, Arabic. Asmodeus: English, French (mainly because he thinks it sounds hot 💀) Beelzebub: English and German. Belphie: English, Spanish, German (because of Beel), Japanese. Diavolo: English,Italian, a bit of Spanish but not enough to be fluent. Barbatos: Mandarin Chinese, Japanese, English, French. Simeon+Luke: English right now but Luke wants to learn Spanish.

Solomon is probably the type of person to wake up at 12:30 in the afternoon whenever possible. Mf probably has an alarm set for that exact time too, and when you ask where he’s been for like half of the day he’ll tilt his head to the side and be like “I was sleeping????”

I feel like we can all come to a sort of mutual understanding of this, but the brothers fan clubs and MC do not mix well together like at all.

“Asmo, get your crazy ass fans under control! They’re fucking insane!”

“Oh they can’t possibly be that bad dear! They’re MY fans after all!”

“I let it slip that we had a date planned for this Saturday and one of them threatened to cut me before calling me a warm toilet seat!”

“Oh.”

Asmodeus, Barbatos, and Simeon call you Hon/Honey sometimes.

For all of your RAD classes, every brother except Lucifer shares at least ONE class with you. Also all of the exchange students are in the same Main classes.

Everyone is a tad bit insane about you, just a little bit, a sprinkle if you will. No I am not explaining this.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me x reader #obey me diavolo #obey me!#mammon #obey me beelzebub #obey me x mc #obey me asmodeus #obey me barbatos #obey me simeon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me mammon #obey me mc #obey me swd

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comphy-and-cozy · 6 days ago

Text

Playing Pretend - Tyson Jost

Pairing: Tyson Jost x OC (f)

Summary: When Delaney Taylor needs a date to her family reunion, Tyson Jost volunteers his services. As they navigate their fake relationship, the line between what’s real and what isn’t begins to blur.

Word Count: 9.8k

Author's Note: Happy birthday, @senditcolton! Surprise, I was your Little Women anon 🤓🥳 I had a blast creating this and infusing the March family into the characters - I hope you enjoy! S/O to @wyattjohnston for helping to beta and to @smileysvech & @jostystyles for the extra details because I'm insane. 🖤 The birthday bingo prompts I selected were: Fake dating / Drunk confession / Argument Scene / She's oblivious / Free Space (Inspired by... Little Women)

Warnings: Angst, language, alcohol use. NHL Masterlist

A buzz on the coffee table alerted Delaney Taylor’s attention away from the television. Beside her, the gentle hum of a Theragun sounded over the low volume of an Avalanche game. She was at Tyson’s house, having accepted his invite to hang out and get takeout on his night off. They’d met through friends, and after finding a mutual interest in The Lagoons and bad reality TV, their friendship naturally veered off to form a branch and blossom on its own.

The phone buzzed again, prompting Delaney to lean forward and grab it upon seeing a text from her sister.

“Fuck,” she said, “Alyssa just texted asking for a final count for my family get together in July.”

“And that’s a bad thing… why? You love your family,” Tyson said, confused. He set down his Theragun on the ottoman, reaching for his water bottle. A car dealership commercial flashed on the screen.

Across from him on the couch, Delaney sighed. “I know. It’s just… I’m kind of the disappointment of the family.”

“Why do you think that?”

“I’m poor, in a mass amount of debt, and working at a Kohl’s instead of at the Met like I was supposed to by this time,” she said, counting each sin on her fingers. Lifting a fourth, she added, “Oh yeah, and I’m single.”

Tyson rolled his eyes. “Oh, come on. They don’t care about that.”

“Maybe not, but I’m only 26 and they make me feel so pressured to get married, start having babies,” she sighed. “My older sister, Alyssa? Happily married with three kids. Violet? In a long-term, happy relationship. And Rachel—she’s not even married but she still has a baby who is basically the light of everyone’s life. Even both of my little sisters have ‘made it’ more than me. I’m just a grad school dropout who broke up with the boyfriend that everyone loved. They spent all of Christmas asking me if we were going to get back together.”

“Yeah, well, did you tell them that Mark was a fucking douche?” Tyson asked, to which Delaney snorted in amusement. You’re the only other person who seems to think so. He let the moment settle before adding, “Delaney, you don’t have to check all of the same boxes as your sisters. You’re literally the smartest person I know.”

“Dropping out of grad school does crazy things for your self confidence,” she said, heart heavy with defeat. It was over halfway through the semester, but saying it out loud never got easier. Delaney wondered what her former classmates were studying, if they missed her absence.

At the end of the fall semester, she’d been crushed to make the decision to pull out of her classes for the spring. Between work, schoolwork, and trying to balance the rest of her little free time between having a social life and having a healthy sleep schedule. her stress levels skyrocketed at the same rate as her student loan payment. It was a painful, but necessary, goodbye. Though she knew she made the right decision, she still felt sad and disappointed when her mind drifted, doing her best to quiet the what ifs that ran through her mind.

Delaney forced herself to focus her thoughts back to the present. “I just… I can’t stand to be a disappointment anymore. I already failed at being a grad student. I don’t want to have to fail at finding a boyfriend, too.”

“I’ll be your boyfriend.”

He blurted it out so quickly that Delaney stared at him for a moment before the confusion seeped in. “What?”

“I mean,” he said after a gulp of water, a slight tinge coating his cheeks, “I’ll come with you. Pretend to be your boyfriend. That way at least there’s one area they can’t rip on you for.”

“Tyson, I can’t ask you to do that,” she said, ignoring the swell in her heart at the image of Tyson Jost holding her hand. She didn’t have time to unpack that yet.

“You’re not asking. I’m offering.” His voice was confident, like he wasn’t going to take ‘no’ for an answer, but gentle, like he’d back down if she really vetoed the offer a second time.

Delaney considered. She felt guilty at the thought of subjecting him to her entire family, making him put on the doting boyfriend act without anything in it for him. That was just how he was, though; generous, giving, willing to do anything for his friends. It really was such a kind gesture of friendship, it almost made her heart ache.

On the other hand, it would save her a headache—she couldn’t deny how much she dreaded the hopeful look in her dad’s eyes when he asked if she was seeing someone—and she did think Tyson would get along with her family. And who wouldn’t want Buffalo’s cutest resident to be her arm candy?

“Okay,” she agreed. “But you need to promise to tell me if you change your mind.”

“Deal,” Tyson said with a grin, holding out his hand. Delaney accepted, shaking it; she ignored the warmth of his palm pressed against hers. “What’s our story, then, babe?”

Heat instantly rose in her cheeks at the pet name. “Okay, rule number one, don’t overdo it with the nicknames. It’ll be too obvious.”

“So no snookums? Honey pie? Sugar plum?”

“No, no, and double no.”

“Aww man,” he pouted. “I was even gonna let you call me ‘cupcake.’”

Delaney rolled her eyes before returning to his original question. “I think our story is the same, for consistency’s sake: We met through friends.”

“Our first date was putt putt and dinner,” he supplied, nodding along. “Kissed you outside your apartment after the second.”

Again, warmth melted over Delaney’s face at the mention of kissing; she felt like a teenager getting teased for having a crush on a boy in her class. And then she realized that she would, in fact, probably have to kiss him on the trip, if they were really hoping to make it believable.

Judging by the way Tyson’s face turned a shade of crimson, she assumed he’d come to the same realization she had.

Maybe they were in for more than they anticipated.

Six weeks later, after creating an entire relationship backstory and studying Delaney’s family tree, Tyson was on a plane to Boston, Bose headphones snugly over his ears. How I Met Your Mother was playing on his iPhone, propped up on the tray table in front of him. Seated beside him was Delaney, lost in her Kindle. Her elbow rested against him on the armrest, her long braid tucked between their arms.

When they landed, Tyson knocked his knee against hers with a grin. A strange flare of nerves and excitement radiated in his chest for a moment, then was gone again.

“C’mon babe, I’ll get your bag for you,” he said. Delaney chuckled, shaking her head with a teasing roll of her eye.

He followed her to the rental car booth, waiting patiently while she sorted out the paperwork for a red Toyota Camry for the hour-long drive to Cape Cod. She nominated him road trip DJ, a title he wore with honor, and the two chatted comfortably as she made her way down the MA-3 South.

Nerves began to flutter again when the GPS had them exiting the highway and indicated he only had about eight more minutes to prepare for his new role as Delaney Taylor’s boyfriend. If she could tell, she didn’t say anything, and he did his best to hide it. He could handle being surrounded by reporters with cameras and phones shoved in his face, peppering him with the same questions about his career and his future; if he could handle that, he thought, he could handle meeting his pretend girlfriend’s family.

Soon enough, they were pulling into the driveway of a large white house, and not thirty seconds after Delaney put the car in park, a small blonde head was running down the front porch steps to greet his new girlfriend. Tyson smiled as he watched Delaney throw the door open and scoop the little girl into her arms before spinning her around in a hug.

Olivia. Delaney’s seven-year-old niece—and favorite one.

“I mean, of course I love all of my nieces and nephews,” she’d explained, “but Olivia and I are soul bonded.” “Liv,” she said gently after setting her down, “there’s someone I want you to meet.” When two wide, inquisitive eyes peered up at him, Tyson instantly understood why she was Delaney’s favorite. He crouched down to meet her gaze as Delaney introduced him. “Olivia, this is Tyson.”

Olivia eyed him and he smiled, waving. She studied him thoughtfully, then said, “Hi. Are you Aunt Delaney’s boyfriend?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “Is that okay?”

The little girl looked over to her aunt. “Do you like him?”

Delaney’s eyes flicked over to Tyson’s, an amused smile on her face. Heat lingered in his cheeks after her gaze returned to meet Olivia’s. “Yes, I like him.”

“Like-like him?”

“Yep.” Tyson felt a flutter in his chest, like he was a kid on a playground finding out his crush like-liked him too. He hoped it didn’t show on his face.

Olivia turned back to Tyson, observing him keenly for a moment before sticking out her hand. “Okay. It’s okay.”

Tyson laughed again, relief unexpectedly washing through him at her instant approval. “Thank you. I’m really so honored to get Princess Olivia’s blessing.”

The other introductions were easier—Alyssa and Ben (Olivia’s parents), Rachel (Delaney’s sister) and her eight month old daughter, Isla. Tyson smiled warmly at everyone, feeling almost instantly at home amongst the easy way they welcomed him in. Inside the house was the rest of the family: Delaney’s sister Violet, her girlfriend Preethi, Hailey and Noah (Olivia’s older siblings), and Delaney’s dad.

Though he knew it didn’t matter much if he actually made a good impression, as he’d likely never see her family again, Delaney’s father was the person Tyson was most nervous to meet; he knew firsthand what growing up in a single-parent home was like and how close the bond can become with the remaining parent. Based on everything he’d heard about Delaney’s relationship with her father, he knew it was an important impression to nail.

“Mr. Taylor,” he said, extending his hand for a firm handshake. He was surprised at the way his voice trembled slightly, though he did his best to hide his nerves with a smile. “Really great to meet you.”

“Call me Dean,” he said with a wide, genuine smile. It put Tyson at ease, even as he registered how much larger Dean’s hands were than his own.

They exchanged pleasantries, and Tyson was happy with how the first meeting was going. He was impressed with himself, though he couldn’t deny that it was Dean’s easygoing, warm nature that really made it seamless. As a single father of four girls, Tyson wondered how many people had come through the door with the intention of dating one of his daughters—how many people had Dean had this exact interaction with? He wondered what Mark’s was like. He wondered how he measured up.

Tyson told himself it was just his competitive nature, but he found himself hoping that he was at the top of the list.

After introductions, Tyson and Delaney brought their bags in and settled into the third bedroom on the left, their home for the week. Once the door closed, Delaney turned and asked, “How’re you doing out there?”

Tyson laughed, unzipping his bag to hang up a few of his shirts in the wardrobe. “Are you kidding? Your family is great, Delaney. I think we might have to get married. I want to come here every summer.”

“Relax, cowboy. You haven’t even had a single meal with them yet,” laughed Delaney. She was grateful her face was hidden as she knelt to pull her toiletry bag out of her suitcase. Heat burned in her cheeks even as a grin spread across her face. Then, eager to change the subject, she added, “You passed Olivia’s inspection.”

“Dude, I think I fell in love with her. Those eyes!?”

Snorting, Delaney nodded as she walked toward the bathroom to set her bag on the counter. “She does have beautiful eyes.”

She thought she heard him say something like, “Must run in the family,” and she opted to wash her hands in the sink in order to will away the burn on her cheeks before returning to the bedroom to finish unpacking.

They returned downstairs a little while later, having unpacked and changed out of travel clothes to something more beach-friendly. Though it was nearing the end of the day and the sun was beginning to go down, the kids were not ready to give up swimming and making sandcastles for the day. Delaney gestured for Tyson to make himself comfortable when they sat down in the chairs on the deck. A few others trickled out, giving Delaney the opportunity to sit and catch up with a smaller group at a time; she spoke with Rachel about Isla’s new daycare, asked Violet about her anatomy final, and told Preethi about the latest book she read. She was grateful that no one seemed to be interested in asking about her future career plans; for now, it seemed, everyone was content with her handsome, charming boyfriend.

Rachel’s eyes flicked over to Tyson, who was smiling as he took in the conversation. He didn’t have much to say or contribute, but he seemed perfectly happy just listening. It made Delaney’s heart twist a little bit at the thought.

“How you doing over there, buddy?” asked Rachel. Delaney cast an appreciative glance over at her sister, grateful that she was making an effort to include him.

“Me? Oh, I’m doing great,” he said with a grin after a sip of his Labatt. “You guys kind of remind me of my mom, sister, and cousins when they’re all together.”

“Wait, that’s really sweet,” Preethi cooed.

“Okay, you’ve heard us yapping,” Violet said after agreeing with a nod. “Tell us about this infamous Tyson—who I’m still pretty pissed that I only just learned about your existence.”

Delaney offered her sister a sheepish grin and a shrug as Tyson recited the story they’d concocted about their relationship, peppering in details about their first date and their transition from friends to more. Violet seemed skeptical at first, but she seemed to warm up when he shared that he’d harbored a crush on Delaney for months before he asked her out—somehow, that was enough to explain the lack of talk about him.

“We wanted to keep things light in the beginning,” she peppered in. “Just in case things didn’t work out. Didn’t want to make things weird with the rest of our friends.”

Tyson nodded, going along with her ad-libbing and taking it a step further by reaching his hand over to hold hers on the armrest of her Adirondack. His thumb stroked her knuckles, a quiet and subtle gesture of affection that sent warmth flooding to Delaney’s heart. “Fortunately, it worked out and we still have friends.”

It wasn’t long after that Rachel went inside to put Isla to sleep and Violet and Preethi left to pick up Chinese takeout for dinner, leaving Tyson and Delaney alone. The other kids had gone inside to shower, which left their view of the beach unmarred as the sun went down, oranges and purples dancing across the surface of the water. Warmth splayed over her legs, the cool breeze making an otherwise warm evening quite pleasant.

This, she thought, is pure happiness.

“Wow,” Tyson awed, “I mean, I believed you when you said it was beautiful, but this is… it’s insane.”

Delaney laughed, nudging his foot with hers.

“Thank you for coming,” she said softly after a pause. “It really—I can’t say how much it means to me that you really came and did… all this. For me.”

Tyson smiled, the chocolate of his eyes warm as his hand reached over to give hers another squeeze. “For this view? I should be thanking you.”

Though Delaney was sure he was referring to the glowing horizon in front of them, she found herself wishing that wasn’t all that he meant.

—

Dinner was simple, casual, and perfect, with everyone scattered around amongst the dining room table, kitchen bar, and coffee table in the living room. Delaney could feel her heart contract at the sight of it, her family, the sound of their voices and their laughter filling the room of her most favorite place on planet Earth. Every time she looked over at Tyson, he seemed to be laughing, that contagious, bright smile etched across his face. He flitted around, too; one moment, she’d see him at the table with Olivia, Noah, and Dean, the next, at the bar with Rachel, Alyssa, and Hailey.

She was surprised at the way in which he fit in with her family as if he’d been around for years, the way Ben and Preethi had. It was so natural; she was impressed at how well he was selling their fake relationship without missing a single beat. Not a single person, she mused, had any suspicion that it was all a sham.

It sure didn’t feel like a sham to her when he tugged his white t-shirt over his head, tossed it in his bag, and crawled into bed beside her later that night. Delaney did her best to keep from gaping, but she’d never even seen that many abs on a person, let alone the shape of his bicep and the tempting dip of muscles that disappeared into the waistband of his plaid pajama bottoms.

“So how’d I do?” he asked, pulling her out of her head—the one that was imagining exactly where those lines ended beneath the cotton material. Heat flushed to her cheeks, realizing how blatantly she’d been staring, darting her eyes away.

Delaney plugged her phone in on the nightstand and regained her composure before turning to face him. “You’re doing amazing, sweetie.”

“Aw, thanks, buttercup,” he said, tapping her on the nose with a fingertip. “I’m ready to play so much Marco Polo with Olivia tomorrow.”

“You better get some beauty sleep if you’re planning to be the entertainment for the day. The girl’s got stamina.”

“Baby, I was born ready.”

When Tyson woke, it took him a moment to register where he was. The blue paint on the walls, the wooden beams, the spinning fan overhead was all unfamiliar, but there was something sweetly scented that he recognized.

Delaney.

She was sleeping beside him, hair disheveled and falling out of her loose braid. Her breathing was steady, soft, so quiet Tyson could barely hear it. He smiled, watching her for a few moments, appreciating the quiet simplicity of the house’s aura and the effect it had on Delaney; she seemed so at home, so comfortable, like she could take off the armor and be unapologetically herself. He liked seeing that side of her, like it was a privilege to be able to witness her at her most authentic self. He couldn’t wait to see more.

Delaney shifted, causing a strand of hair to fall into her face. Tyson felt a tug in his heart when she nuzzled into his warmth, exhaling softly.

He was her boyfriend now, and as much as he’d bonded with her family the night before, it was still early and he didn’t fancy an awkward conversation over coffee with the few people who had awoken. So, he gave himself a mental shrug and let her sink into the crook of his arm, savoring her warmth.

The subtle floral scent of her shampoo made its way into his nose, and the steady rise and fall of her chest lulled him back into a cat nap, morning sun warming the ocean-cool air. It was her stirring in his arms later, after the sun had risen higher in the sky, streaming light and buttery warmth through the window, that woke him again.

“You were snoring,” she said. Her freshly-awake voice was sleepy, softer than usual. “It was so cute.”

Tyson hummed a soft apology and his cheeks warmed, heat weaving its way through his body when he realized how much of her was pressed against him. He found himself both disappointed and grateful when she stretched and rose first, padding quietly into the bathroom. The bed beside him felt cold, empty, and it was only then that he realized how much he’d been relying on her body heat for warmth.

Breakfast was casual, everyone helping themselves to the assorted bagels, fruit, and yogurt in the fridge. Delaney’s leg brushed against his when he sat back down after a coffee refill, answering Noah’s earnest questions about how to become a professional athlete. He wasn’t sure how he did until he received a grateful look from Alyssa after he told Noah that he always made sure to eat all of his vegetables at dinner.

Since he didn’t need much time to prepare for a beach day, he offered to help Dean clean up the kitchen and load the dishwasher—he was confident he’d made a good first impression, but wanted to solidify a spot on the Good List. By the time he’d started the cycle, Delaney had returned from their shared room and Tyson nearly choked on his coffee when his eyes landed on her. He’d never seen her in anything less than a t-shirt and jeans, and the expanse of her golden skin wasn’t something he had prepared himself for.

Of course he’d noticed the way her eyes bulged when he took his shirt off before bed; he’d bitten his lip to keep from smiling. She had told him to act normal and be himself—it wasn’t his fault he preferred to sleep sans shirt. But after seeing her in beachwear, Tyson’s confidence in his ability to manage his emotions as Delaney’s fake boyfriend was starting to waver. The black linen pants she sported were enough to have him sweating for a moment before he collected himself, tearing his eyes away from the curve of her ass.

Fortunately—and unfortunately—for him, he didn’t have much time to dwell on how well her pants fit her hips and her ass, for Olivia was barreling down the dock, followed closely by Noah, both of whom were calling to Tyson to help them build the world’s largest sand kingdom. Delaney grinned at him, offering a sympathetic shrug before he was being tugged to a spot on the beach by Olivia.

Right away, she directed him to dig the moat, while she and Noah worked on starting the base. Tyson kept the conversation going, asking them both about school and letting them ask him questions about life as a hockey player. Every so often, he’d glance over at Delaney, sitting on the deck with Rachel, Isla, Violet, and Preethi. He smiled at the light in her eyes as she sat, chatting and laughing with her family that he knew she missed dearly. For the first time in a few weeks, she was smiling, the weight on her shoulders temporarily lifted.

This was why he came. Why he traveled 500 miles from home, voluntarily staying in a house full of strangers and was now elbow-deep in wet sand: To take away a pressure point so that she could enjoy her weekend with her family without the unspoken still-single? narratives. She thanked him more times than he could count, but it honestly hadn’t even occurred to him as something that was worth thanking him for.

She was a friend, and she needed something from him. Simple. There was no decision to make. If she needed him, he was there. When a friend asks for help, you help ‘em.

Even if it meant he had to spend an entire weekend with her loud, large family and pretend to be her boyfriend.

Something about playing that role, envisioning himself as the man beside her in her life, made him feel… warm? And kind of fuzzy? Prior to arriving, he’d been a bit anxious at the immense pressure of being able to act the part and pull it all off, but being Delaney’s boyfriend was easy. Her warmth attracted everyone; it was only natural to be drawn to her.

“Tyson?” Olivia’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts.

“Hmm?”

“Are you gonna marry Aunt Dee?”

Tyson felt his cheeks tinge with pink heat, stuttering for an answer; he got the strange sense that Olivia had been reading his thoughts. His gaze flicked over to the girl in question, gently rocking Isla in her arms. For a brief moment, his brain conjured the idea that she was holding their daughter, and he couldn’t keep up with the surge of emotions in his chest.

He cleared his throat, blinking away the thought. “Um, yeah. Maybe. Do you think I should?”

“Yeah,” she said after a moment of introspection. “She smiles a lot with you.”

“She does?”

“Duh. You’re her boyfriend.”

Tyson hummed, letting Olivia drop a handful of sand into the bucket he was holding. He packed it in before helping Noah place the next section of the wall.

He’d be so lucky to marry someone half as wonderful as Delaney.

The sun warmed Delaney’s skin, amplified by Isla’s body heat, sleeping soundly in her arms. She smiled down at her newest niece, drinking in her tiny features.

“You got yourself a good one, Del,” Rachel said, causing Delaney to glance up at the use of her name. “He’s wonderful.”

Delaney swallowed the urge to respond that Tyson wasn’t hers, that he could only ever be hers in her dreams—or, in this case, in an entirely fake scenario. Even in the first 24 hours, everything had come so naturally to them, she had to remind herself that he was only there out of pity, not out of any sort of inkling of real feelings for her. The thought stung, but she pushed it aside to unpack later.

“It’s actually so sweet how in love with you he is,” Violet agreed. “I love watching him look at you.”

“Oh my God, right?” Preethi gushed. “Every time I look over at him, he’s staring at you with that dumb little smile on his face. It’s so cute.”

The thump of her heart quickened at her family’s words. She’d never seen the looks they were talking about. In fact, she’d never even seen him looking in her direction when she’d sneak glances at him across the room, keeping tabs on his whereabouts and if he generally appeared to be enjoying himself.

“Do you loooove him?” Violet asked. Her sing-song voice made Delaney roll her eyes.

“No, of course not,” she said, far too quickly, before she realized that being in love with her boyfriend is kind of the end goal when in a relationship. “I mean, not yet. It’s not been that long.”

She ignored Rachel’s glance, allowing Violet to nudge her knee with her own. “Alright. Well, no time like the present.”

“Judging by the way he looks at you, I think your boy is already there,” Rachel said.

Heat surged to Delaney’s cheeks. She knew it wasn’t true, but they had every reason to believe it. It was strange to be at the center of a lie, watching as the strings began to weave an intricate pattern—all because she couldn’t bear to disappoint her family again.

And Tyson had been more than willing to jump in and help her; in fact, he wouldn’t take no for an answer. She was overwhelmed with his generosity, his kindness. The display of friendship made her heart ache. And now, here he was, convincing everyone in her life that he was her boyfriend—so well that her sisters were convinced that this wonderful man was in love with her.

She made a mental note to compliment Tyson on his acting abilities. “Stop. He’s not.”

“Girl,” Violet said disbelievingly. “You go off to la la land with that dopey-ass smile on your face when your sister says he’s in love with you, and you think you don’t love him?”

“Let her get there on her own, Vi,” Preethi said, resting a hand gently on her girlfriend’s arm. She winked at Delaney before saying, “You’re right, though.”

After another roll of her eyes, Delaney glanced to the sparkling water beyond the dock for a reprieve from her interrogation. The waves softly rolled toward the shore, whispering her name on their breath. She nudged Isla into her sister’s arms before rising from her seat, stretching. “It’s time.”

Rachel’s “Have fun!” followed Delaney as she headed down the dock, slipping her linen cover-up down her legs and tightening the straps on her bikini. At the end, she wasted no time diving in, letting the water surround her.

Delaney swam around, letting the coolness of the water soothe her warm skin. Ever since she was a little girl, she’d been coming to this place, and something about the feeling of the water on her skin was cleansing; purifying even. The weight of the world seemed to melt away in this place, pressures and stressors and everything else muted while she was there with her people.

This time around was different. This time, her life back at home was in shambles, unable to catch a break. But this time, she also had Tyson by her side, there to alleviate the pressure so she could have an escape. His presence was different from how Mark’s had been, despite the fact that Mark was actually her boyfriend. Tyson seemed to understand her, listened without judgment, supported her without question.

Tyson saw her in a way that Mark never had—maybe in a way that even her family never had.

—

Tyson was helping Olivia put the final touches on the sandcastle, which included a garage for her Barbie Jeep, when movement on the porch steps caught his eye. His throat went dry when he saw what—or who—was making their way toward the water.

Delaney, stripping out of that linen outfit, excitedly speed-walking down the dock. He felt heat rush to his cheeks, his heart thudding in his chest. Unable to help the way his eyes traveled over her skin, he let his gaze drag up her legs, over her curves. Fuck. She looked good.

A shriek sounded beside him, and Tyson’s eyes went wide as his head whipped to Olivia. Only when he saw her smiling did he realize that she was shrieking with joy, presumably at the sight of Delaney jumping in the water, if the cheering was any indication.

“Aunt Dee! Aunt Dee!” she squealed, dropping her sand shovel and running back toward the shed. She handed him a Frozen floaty, indicating for him to help her blow it up. Once she was situated, the floaties wrapped securely around her upper arms, she was bounding down the dock toward her aunt. The sound of a splash, followed shortly by a squeal and laughter informed Tyson that she had successfully made it.

He smiled fondly, making his own way down to the end of the dock where Delaney was helping Olivia make a whirlpool.

“Incoming!” he shouted, tossing his t-shirt and sunglasses to the side before he cannonballed in amidst screams from both girls. Rising to the surface, he was met with splashes from Olivia’s tiny feet, which he quickly grabbed and tugged her toward him to lug her over his shoulders. Another squeal left her mouth as he launched her—safely—out of his arms, crashing into the water.

Delaney laughed beside him, watching Olivia’s triumphant smile as she rose to the surface. Moments too late, she realized that she was Tyson’s next target, her eyes going wide when his hands found her waist. He ignored the feeling of her skin beneath his fingertips and the way she fit in his arms as he lifted her, too—much to Olivia’s delight, who was chanting for him to toss Delaney.

“One, two—”

“Tyson, put me down!” Delaney shrieked.

With a wink at Olivia, he shrugged and said, “You asked.” With that, he launched her and watched her land in the water with a satisfying splash. When she emerged, Olivia was laughing so hard that Tyson couldn’t help but join in. Delaney spluttered, sending a splash of ocean water toward him that he quickly dodged.

He turned to Olivia, still giggling, and ignored Delaney’s sharp protests beside him. His eyebrow raised and he leaned in to Olivia. “We playing mermaids next, or what?”

Prior to arriving at the Taylor family cottage, Delaney had taught Tyson the family dynamics and the Annual Family vacation rules. First and foremost, to relax and spend time with family. If you weren’t having fun, you weren’t required to participate in anything—and there was usually so much going on that it wasn’t difficult to find something to do.

Another rule they’d developed early on was that each couple gets a guaranteed, guilt-free date night. Established after Hailey was born so that Alyssa and Ben could have a night to themselves, it had simply stuck as each sister added a significant other to the ever-growing Taylor family.

When Violet announced that Tyson and Delaney’s assigned night was Wednesday, his faux girlfriend was quick to assure him behind closed doors that they didn’t have to do anything crazy— “like a real date, or anything.” Tyson, though, brushed her off and was determined to commit fully to the bit.

It took a fair bit of wrangling and no shortage of dawdling to get himself alone with Alyssa to ask where he should take Delaney on a date. He couldn’t explain why his cheeks were so warm talking with her, taking note of her suggestions like he was in a Calculus class. While their relationship was a farce, he reasoned, that didn’t mean that he couldn’t take Delaney out for a memorable evening.

When the night arrived, Tyson fought a flutter of nerves in his chest. He had to actively fight the feeling of being a 16-year-old boy nervous for his first date, despite the fact that he was well into his twenties and had quite literally been sharing a bed with his date for three days. Waiting downstairs with Preethi, Violet, and Hailey, he did his best to act normal like it wasn’t his first-ever date with Delaney.

Like a scene from a movie, he felt his heart leap into his throat when she made her way down the stairs. She was stunning, despite having thrown on “just a sundress”; the body of the dress fit her torso like a glove, the skirt flowing at her waist. A milkmaid dress, he was told it was called—whatever it was, he liked it.

Dinner was simple, one of Alyssa’s top recommendations at which he somehow managed to snag the last remaining reservation. Once they arrived, he understood why: the wall facing the beach was made entirely of windows, leaving the entire restaurant a gorgeous view of the bay and the subsequent sunset. The room was already beginning to fill with the rich oranges and pinks as the sun slid closer and closer to the horizon.

“How romantic,” Delaney commented with a smirk, nudging him with her elbow. “Candlelit dinner at sunset? Should I be expecting a proposal later?”

Tyson’s face split into a grin, patting his pocket. He could’ve sworn his arm radiated warmth when she pulled away from him. “Shh. Don’t ruin the surprise!”

“Aww, you’re so sweet, honey bee.”

The meal itself was good—homemade pasta and some kind of whipped eggplant that had him contemplating ordering a second helping—but the highlight was sitting across the table from Delaney, talking freely and feeling on top of the world when she laughed at his stupid jokes. The flickering flame of the candle on her face, illuminating her skin, her smile, the glint of her necklace resting on her collarbones; her thick hair falling in loose waves, the strands around her face soft and so very Delaney. All of it—all of her—had completely sucked him in, fully underneath her spell and he couldn’t have been happier.

Tyson didn’t realize how much he’d been craving her individual attention until he had her uninhibited attention: her eyes locked on his, so in tune and in touch with everything he was saying, nodding along enthusiastically with every word out of his mouth. It was intoxicating to have her all to himself, immersed in him as he was in her.

He was addicted.

Tyson saw the waitress lingering out of the corner of his eye, praying she wouldn’t interrupt Delaney’s story—something about a new exhibit at Buffalo’s art museum; honestly, he was mostly just consumed by the spark in her eyes. Instead of checking in, the waitress approached the table silently, refilling water glasses and wine without a word before walking away.

I’m tipping you 50%, he thought to himself, leaning right back into everything Delaney, Delaney, Delaney.

Eventually, the waitress did return and burst their bubble, but Tyson was already on cloud nine, suggesting a walk on the boardwalk to get ice cream just to prolong the feeling for a little longer. The evening breeze paired with the lack of sun had goosebumps dotting Delaney’s arms, and it was all too easy for him to slip an arm over her shoulder and tuck her into his warmth.

Driving home was like a scene from a movie, her phone plugged into the aux cord and Taylor Swift’s You Belong With Me blaring from the speakers. With a grin, Delaney cranked the volume up and Tyson found himself loudly singing the words alongside her; fortunately, the sound of his off-tune serenade was drowned out by the music. She sang to him, using her fist as a microphone as she danced in the passenger seat of his car.

Pulling in the driveway didn’t stop Tyson from continuing his performance, instead throwing open the door and running around to open Delaney’s, tugging her out to spin her in a circle at the instrumental break. He pulled her back into his arms, relishing the laughter she let out when he dipped her backwards.

The song faded to its end, the sound replaced by a softer one, the melody sweet and lulling. A faint beachy breeze blew past, and Tyson found himself pulling Delaney’s body closer. Her eyes were warm, looking up at him with a softness that made his heart melt and time stand still.

Tyson told himself it was gravity that drew him in, pulling him closer to her lips, suddenly yearning to know what her lip gloss tasted like. The world came to a spinning halt around him when he pressed his mouth to hers, like the universe wanted him to savor the moment. He kissed her more firmly, a strange tug in his chest letting his tongue flit against the seam of her mouth. She tasted sweet, like the strawberry ice cream he’d bought her on the boardwalk.

His hand moved up to her neck, cupping the side of her jaw to deepen the kiss, savoring the next sigh she expelled. He didn’t want to ever stop kissing her, not now that he finally knew what her lips felt like against his own. It warmed him from the inside out, like a buttery sunshine spreading through his veins, pulsing in time with the beat of his heart.

Tyson forced himself to pull away, consciousness seeping back in through the Delaney-infused haze surrounding him. The expression painted on her face was dreamy, her eyes unfocused as she blinked them open, a little hitch of surprise in her throat as reality seeped back in around them. He swallowed the urge to kiss her again.

—

Blinking, Delaney stood in shock. A rush of cool air hit her face from the space that Tyson had just occupied. She blinked again, lips tingling.

Once Delaney managed to get her wits about her, she did her best to keep her voice level. “You didn’t have to… we don’t have to—”

Tyson’s smile was nearly enough to make her knees wobble—though she was stabilized by his hands firm on her waist. He didn’t seem to be nearly as impacted as she was—heart thumping rapidly in her chest, mouth dry, fumbling to right herself on shaky legs. “Violet and Preethi have been spying on us from the upstairs window for ten minutes.”

“Oh.”

In an instant, Delaney deflated. She glanced down at her feet, trying to hide her embarrassment—at both the idea of her intimate moment being impeded on, and at her own stupidity for thinking that the entire evening hadn’t been just an act. He’d been so sweet, so perfect, that she’d allowed herself to really believe in their lie, even for just a few hours. She could’ve sworn there was something so genuine about the way he held her hand on the boardwalk, the way his eyes watched her lips—

And that kiss. She really needed to ask him where he’d learn to be such a good actor, because he was convincing.

“C’mon, pookie,” Tyson said, taking her hand. Her thoughts vanished upon hearing his voice. “We’ve given them enough to look at.”

Back in the house, they were greeted by a few people in the sitting room, gathered on the couches watching a movie. Ignoring the barely-hidden grins from Violet and Preethi, Delaney offered a quick ‘hello’ and exchanged a few words about dinner before heading upstairs—“I’m tired,” was her excuse.

She hoped her family didn’t notice that she couldn’t get upstairs fast enough.

Inside the locked bathroom, she turned on the faucet to imitate washing her face. Instead, her face crumpled as a sob wracked her body, warm tears spilling freely out of her eyes. The shift from on top of the world after the kiss to the fall in realizing it was all for show was jarring; she knew what she was agreeing to when he offered to pose as her boyfriend, but she hadn’t thought of the tease it would be for her heart to have Tyson be hers for the week. It hurt more than she’d expected to have him openly acting, to know what it felt like to kiss him and have it be all for show.

The little smiles, soft touches on the back of her arm as he’d pass in the kitchen, the brush of his fingertips on her waist in the lake. All of it so natural, sly, clandestine, like he wanted it to be a secret just for the two of them—and because it wasn’t an elaborate public display to uphold the falsehood for her family, it had only naturally drawn her to the conclusion that maybe there was some truth behind it.

That kind of thinking was too good to be true, she told herself. She wasn’t the main character of some romance novel; she was just Delaney.

And guys like Tyson didn’t go for girls like Delaney.

The next few days passed peacefully: jet skiing, swimming, and plenty of mermaids. If Tyson could sense any change in her after their date, he didn’t show it. In fact, if anything, he’d doubled down on his affection, brushing her cheek with his lips when he walked by, falling asleep with an arm loose around her hip, stroking the back of her hand by the fire.

It was wonderful and infuriating all at once. Delaney couldn’t help but lean into him, unable to resist his touch, even though she knew it would crush her even more once Sunday rolled around and it was time to leave. She could barely even think about telling her family they’d ‘broken up’—but she was getting ahead of herself.

She knew she should bring it up with him, tell him how she felt, but she couldn’t bear to make things weird and ruin the rest of the trip. For the rest of the week, she reasoned, she’d let herself live in the fantasy. Enjoy another few days of blissful ignorance. And she’d deal with the consequences of her actions later.

Hurt feelings were future Delaney’s problem.

It was Friday when the kids announced that everyone was cordially invited to a play performed by them that evening. Both Delaney and Tyson helped them to construct a few of the props necessary—including a reindeer made out of a tarp and a bike and multiple paper crowns.

Before the show, Delaney followed Tyson into the kitchen to retrieve a beverage for the show. As she poured herself a glass of wine, Tyson passed behind her, hand brushing against her waist when he reached past her to grab a High Noon from the fridge. They turned at the same time, bumping into one another, causing her white wine to spill down her front.

“Shit, I’m sorry—” she said, only to have him interrupt with a sudden kiss.

Initially caught off guard, it only took her a few moments to recover before she was kissing back, addicted to the feeling of his lips against hers. That same beautiful warmth filled her, a kind of light that she only experienced with him. She wanted to devour him, to have him devour her, to think and feel nothing but Tyson—

And then he pulled away. Lips wet, cheeks flushed, she could see the emotion swirling behind his beautiful brown eyes. “Delaney—”

But, with her wits about her now that he wasn’t making her dizzy with his kiss, she knew what came next. She interrupted him before he could finish. “Don’t.”

“Don’t?” Tyson’s brows furrowed together, confusion knitting between them. “Don’t what?”

Delaney shook her head and repeated herself. “Whatever you’re about to say, I don’t want to hear it. It isn’t fair.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You think you’re catching feelings, right? Because you’ve had to act like it all week.”

Tyson blinked, clearly surprised that she’d taken the words out of his mouth. But the surprised expression quickly morphed into one of frustration.

“So you’re not even going to give me the chance to speak?”

“I can’t hear you say it, Tyson—not unless you mean it,” Delaney said, then added softly, “Not when this has been the best week of my life because I’ve gotten to pretend you were mine—which is all I’ve wanted since we met.”

She watched his eyes soften, and the pity she imagined there nearly made her sick. It was a necessary evil, though; she needed to intercept his confession before he said it out loud. She couldn’t bear to hear him emit those words, couldn’t hear him confirm what she knew to be true: a future with her wasn’t in the cards for him. He’d never say it, probably wouldn’t even admit it to himself, but she knew that he was too good for her, that someone like her didn’t deserve someone like him. She wasn’t ready to burst the final bubble of her beautiful fantasy, leaving her cold and sad and alone.

But instead of sympathy, or a patronizing statement, Tyson adopted a bite to his words. “You think I fell for you on purpose? I didn’t have a choice, Delaney.”

Something about the way he said it felt like a slash to her heart, like he had fallen for her but wished he hadn’t. It stung more than she expected, more than him simply not reciprocating her feelings.

“This was your idea in the first place, Tyson. You committed to this,” she reminded him coolly. “It’s not my fault you’ve never seen a rom-com before. I didn’t force you to do shit.”

“Delaney, that’s not what I’m saying—”

Against her will, tightness formed in her throat, a sting hot behind her eyes. “I thought I could handle it. Having you be mine. I’ve always known it would come to an end, that I’d have to go back to life as it was. But I didn’t realize how much different it’d be knowing how it feels to kiss you, to hold your hand. To have you look at me like I’m the only person in the world.”

“Then you should’ve fucking told me that before you let me be your boyfriend!”

This is going nowhere, she thought to herself. She needed to walk away from him, right now, before the wall of tears threatening to burst through came pouring out.

Delaney took a breath, searching for the words that would wound him the way he wounded her. She steeled herself, feeling a cool exterior blanket her and harden into place like a cast. “Well, I didn’t. Sue me. I just need you to do your job for another 24 hours, and after that, we don’t ever have to speak again. Okay?”

She turned on her heel without waiting for a response, though she heard him say her name as she walked back outside to where her family was gathered on the patio. Her body thrummed as she returned to Rachel’s side, her younger sister casting a glance of concern in her direction. Delaney ignored her, smiling and turning to Hailey, Noah, and Olivia’s performance—Frozen, the musical.

A movement in her periphery told her that Tyson, too, had returned to the group, taking the seat beside the makeshift stage that Olivia had saved for him. She could feel his gaze lingering on her, but she refused to give him the satisfaction of acknowledging him.

“Good?” Rachel’s voice was quiet, subtle, concerned. Delaney nodded, and she knew that her sister knew she wasn’t, in fact, good. She was grateful that Rachel knew her well enough to know to let it be, that she’d talk when she was ready. For now, Delaney wanted to stew a little bit.

So stew she did, staying mostly quiet as the musical wrapped up. The performers received a standing ovation before a fire was started and the usual chatter began. Darkness fell, the moon rising higher in the sky, their voices swallowed by the night air. Delaney offered a few comments here and there and helped Noah with his s’more, watching the group dwindle as more and more of them went off to bed for the night. Tyson, to his credit, remained by the fire too, helping to keep the kindle stocked—almost like he was saying, ‘I can go all night.’

But so could she.

—

The crackle of the wood and the lick of the flames hypnotized Tyson, pulling him in and quieting thoughts running through his mind as he replayed the conversation they’d had. Admittedly, he’d lost his temper a little bit, frustrated that Delaney wouldn’t let him get a word in edgewise, that she’d somehow made him out to be the bad guy.

As the kids began to make their way to bed, Tyson indulged in another beer—or three. Not enough to be drunk drunk, but enough to wash away some of the rogue emotions swimming around inside of him. He kept his eye on Delaney, who appeared to be stewing silently across from him and refusing to make eye contact with him.

But he was determined; he wasn’t going to let her slip away—not this time. Not after her confession. Not when he still had things to say that she needed to hear.

So he waited, making casual conversation with those remaining, the chairs around him slowly emptying out until it was only him, Dean, and Delaney remaining. He cast another glance over to her, startled to see her already looking at him. He couldn’t read the expression on her face, but he held her gaze through the tips of the orange flames dancing between them regardless. Something in his heart swelled, even though he was pretty sure he’d fucked it all up—he just wasn’t exactly sure what he did wrong.

“You know, your mother and I looked at each other like that.”

With a blink, Delaney broke eye contact to turn and look at Dean. Tyson had never heard her talk about her mom, save for an occasional memory. Her lips parted—in surprise, maybe—before she said, “Like what?”

“Like there was no one else around,” Dean said simply.

Delaney’s eyes flicked to Tyson’s. He swallowed carefully, suddenly all too aware at Dean’s implication, whether intentional or not. As her boyfriend, he was supposed to want a future with her: that was the end goal.

He didn’t have to feel guilty.

So he smiled, letting her see the warmth and happiness that Dean’s statement filled him with. He wanted her to know that when he was with her, the rest of the world faded away.

She was his Cape Cod. His escape from the upcoming pressures of free agency, of the already-exhausting training regimen that waited for him upon return home, of his future in the NHL on the line. With Delaney, none of it seemed to matter so much. As long as she was by his side, everything seemed like it’d be okay.

“Goodnight, you two,” said Dean’s amused voice. In his inner monologue, Tyson had completely forgotten that Dean was around, and he jumped slightly when he’d interrupted his train of thought. “Put the fire out when you come inside, will you?”

“Yeah,” Delaney called after him, glancing back at Tyson. “Goodnight, dad.”

Tyson waited until the crunch of Dean’s shoes on the sand disappeared up the lighted walkway to the house. “Delaney…”

“I’m sorry,” she interrupted. “I was being selfish. I shouldn’t have— it wasn’t fair of me to not even let you say your piece.”

“I didn't know how you felt. I… I wish you’d told me,” he said, gently. “I wouldn’t have wanted to tease you.”

“I didn’t want to make things weird between us,” she confessed. “I didn’t really think about anything being different after this.”

Tyson nodded in understanding. The fire crackled beside him, burning bright in the cool darkness around them. He wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol or his proximity to Delaney that made everything seem so damn beautiful. Probably a mix of both.

“You can say your piece now. I won’t interrupt this time.” She smiled, following where his gaze had just been, watching a spark pop beneath one of the logs.

“It’s not much of a piece,” he said. “I didn’t really think about how I was going to say this.”

“So, just say it.”

“I love you.”

Delaney snorted, rolling her eyes. “Tyson, you’re drunk.”

“I know. This isn’t exactly the way I envisioned first saying it to you, but I need you to know,” he confessed, aware that he was on the verge of drunk rambling. He composed himself and repeated, “I love you, Delaney.”

Delaney’s smile faded, staring at him. Her eyes studied his face, almost like she was searching for the truth in his own eyes. Convinced he could prove it, he stood and walked around the fire, moving into the empty seat beside her—only wobbling once en route. Her breath caught in her throat at the new proximity and he reached across the armrest to take her hand in his.

“You said not to say it unless I meant it,” he whispered. “I mean it.”

He watched as the weight of his words settled in, even drunk Tyson having enough wherewithal to know that it was time for silence. Slowly, a smile began to spread across her features.

Illuminated by the glow of the fire, Tyson thought it was the most beautiful he’d ever seen her look.

“Are you still gonna mean it when we leave here on Sunday?” she asked, eyeing him. “You’re not going to get back to Buffalo and shake out of this vacation high?”

“Whatever you need me to do to prove it to you, I will,” he said solemnly. “But I really, really would like to kiss you first, if that’s okay with you.”

Her eyes widened with surprise, just briefly, but then she was smiling again and nodding. With a finesse that only a drunk person could manage, he leaned forward to cup her jaw with his hand, nose brushing her own affectionately. He savored the feeling of her breath against his lips and closed his eyes.

As it had both times before, her kiss lit him on fire from the inside out. He poured himself into her, hoping that he could convey his sincerity with the depth of his kiss.

SIX WEEKS LATER

The buzz of her phone had Delaney setting down the Lego instruction booklet to glance at it. Smiling at the contact photo—Tyson, freshly awoken, his hair sticking straight up—she turned the screen to Noah, earning a wide smile with an extra tooth missing. She swiped to answer, letting the camera face her nephew.

“Noah! Hey, buddy,” Tyson’s voice greeted with a laugh. “What’re you up to?”

“We’re making a Spiderman Lego set! Look!”

“Wow, that’s awesome. I wish I could do it with you. You look like a real hockey player with those teeth missing.”

Noah smiled again, showing off the two gaps where his baby teeth had recently fallen out. Delaney started to flip the camera back to herself when a voice sounded from the other room. “Tyson! Tyson!”

Little feet pattered excitedly through the doorway, Olivia’s face beaming as she ran to grab the phone from Delaney’s hands. “Hi, Tyson.”

“Hey, Liv. When are you coming to visit me and Aunt Dee?”

She jumped up and down excitedly, looking at Delaney. “Aunt Dee said we can come and have a sleepover over winter break!”

“That sounds awesome. We can wear matching pajamas,” he said, earning a giggle from Olivia, who launched into an elaborate itinerary for their slumber party, including candy, a makeover, and a Frozen marathon.

“I can’t wait,” he said. “Hey, do you think I could talk to Aunt Dee?”

With a nod, Olivia said her goodbyes and made him promise to text her goodnight. Flipping the camera back to herself, Delaney smiled and raised her eyebrows. “Hi.”

“Hi, muffin,” he said, an easy smile curling up on his own face. He was sitting outside on a porch, curls peeking out from under a gray hoodie. “How was your interview?”

“Really good. We’re going to schedule a final interview at the museum next week once I get back. I’m pretty sure I’m going to get the job.”

Tyson’s smile grew wider. “That’s great news. One step closer to the Met!”

“I’m good with Buffalo’s art museum for now,” she said. “I don’t want to be that far from you.”

“Aww, honey bear,” he teased. Delaney wrinkled her nose, rolling her eyes at him. Her interview had been over video call, taken from Ben’s office at their house in Rochester. If all went well, she would soon become Buffalo AKG Art Museum’s new Membership Coordinator.

Things were looking up for her. And even though life wasn’t perfect, she had Tyson and her family to help her get through whatever came her way.

SIMILAR CONTENT:

Third Time’s the Charm* Adore You Love It If We Made It* One Night Standards

#tyson jost fic #tyson jost imagine #nhl fic #hockey fic #nhl fanfiction #tyson jost x oc #hockey imagine #nhl imagine #hockey fanfiction #banners and dividers by @cafekitsune

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ghostieyanyan · 10 months ago

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Is it ok if I can ask for a yandere Rollo Flamme? I like the idea of Rollo because he’s already based off a yandere villain so it makes sense. And I think Rolli would like to get close to Yuu cuz they don’t have any magic so they’re seen as ‘pure’ in Rollo’s eyes. Maybe Rollo can be seen trying hard to control his urges at the fireplace or he captured MC and tried to burn them at the stake like in the movie? Your choice.

hehehe... why not just add salt to injure? what if mc has pyrophobia, a fear of fire?

~Let the fire purify you~

Yan!Rollo x Pyrophobia!Mc

Warnings: Fire, burning, kidnapping, anxiety attack, chains, gag, breakdown,

~~~

Rollo hated magic... with a passion. A passion that burned so bright that hurricanes, rainstorms, floods, and tsunami together couldn't extinguish this flame of pure hatred.

How does no one sees the danger of magic? How many lives have to be taken in the hand of magic for people to understand this is a problem? He guesses that its one of humanities sin, playing dumb, playing ignorant, until it becomes someone they care about that gets hurt. its always like that... why could people just see things through his lenses BEFORE someone got hurt...

But for now, he just has to do gods work for everyone else, until they see things his ways...

He had a plan. a plan that will solve this problem before it could get worst. The plan to get rid of magic, from one of the most powerful mages in twisted wonderland, to the student "prodigies" of that sick, sinful school, to the townsfolks of Fleur city, to every inch of Twisted wonderland.

With this crazy plan, he'll make, no, he'll force everyone to see how he sees life should be. he didnt care on who got hurt-

until-

he met Night Raven College's gem in the rock, their Perfect. When all the students were introducing themselves, when it was your turn. He swore the world stopped and he would have swore on his life that he saw wings and a halo on you. You looked, spoke, and acted like an angel. you even allow these sinful... beasts... breathe the same air as you. then you have an ACTUAL beast as a familiar. don't tell grim that.

your heart and soul must be made out of pure gold. he has to protect it at all cost. he will use his own body to shield you from magical blast and then some to keep your purity in tact. he will move mountains and redivert lakes, rivers, seas, and oceans for you. Rollo Flamme will make you into his deity that he worships.

All the students decided to split into groups and explore Fleur City, after they got changed.

to say Rollo thought you looked breathe taking in your glorious masquerade outfit was an understatement. he was about to come up to you and compliment you, maybe even starting small talk with you but a certain lizard decided to be the first to do so...

Of course that monster would be charmed by an angel like you. Evil loves to tempt with good.

no matter, he'll just have to see you another time but if he gets too busy..? He'll make time for you.

Rollo lead you into his office, you didn't mind too much because he was telling you all about the school's history and art. it is a really pretty school, it gives very romantic feelings.

when you finally made it into his office, you froze at the doorway at seeing the fire place. Rollo quickly notices and puts out the flame with a very helpful near by bucket. You were grateful that Rollo was very accommodating to your fears.

you thanked him and sat down across from him while Rollo sat in his chair.

"I'm very sorry for asking you to meet me at this ungodly hour but i just needed your input on something and if i didn't ask you, i would have had a sleepless night tossing and turning." Rollo said as he got everything on his desk organized.

"hehe, its alright. I just happen to have a restless night myself.. but i don't mind the company."

"oh my that sounds awful. what seems to be troubling you?"

"w-well.."

It was really hard to tell someone you only just recently met that you had a "bad feeling" about something and how so far, in twisted wonderland, its always comes true...

"well.. i think... maybe, its just the 'sleeping at a new place' feeling and I'm just not getting use to it. but I'm sure its fine. heh.."

"hmm.."

Rollo seemed satisfied with that answer and continues, by leaning towards you on the desk.

"i know i asked you about this before, but id like to discuss it with you more in depth... hmm?"

since Rollo put out the fire place, there was only a small lamp on the desk to shine light in the room. you kind of wished that the fire place was still lit... cause everything in this scenario was telling you to run and never look back..

"o-okay..? what would you like to know..?"

Rollo smiled and leaned back into his chair.

"as a magicless student in a full school of magical.. mages, aren't you scared they might... turn and hurt you..?"

the way he worded that made you feel more unnerved.. you trusted your friends in Night Raven College. Even the ones that did try to hurt you, they still came to your defense and help and protected you when you needed them.. you trusted them with your life and having this man tell you "you shouldn't because they can use magic" was... laughable...

"no.. because they've earn my trust and I've earn theirs..!"

"Earned..?"

Rollo's face darkened as you stood up from the chair you were sitting in.

"I'm sorry Rollo. Thank you for your hospitality but i have to go."

you start walking to the door but stopped.

"with however you feel about magic, i wont sit down and let you disrespect them just because they possess a special ability and i don't. It doesn't make them less of a person. Magic or no magic."

you walked to the door but before you could even touch the doorknob, you feel a body press against your back, pinning you against the door. you couldn't even move, much less move the door.

"I'm sorry my sweet angel~... i guess.. I'll just have to show you myself then~"

you see a quick purple blur and then tightness around your throat. Rollo was using his signature purple and gold handkerchief to strangle you! you tried to struggle. you tired to jab your elbow into his chest but his uniform was too thick for it to do any good.

You started to feel light headed then everything you saw was slowly turning black. the last thing you saw was Rollo, and the insanity in his eyes.

you had so many questions...

why you? was it because you don't have magic so you were "easy"? aren't there other people in twisted wonderland without magic? you just happened to go to a school "for" magic users so of course you'll see it a lot.

what's so bad about magic? ya it almost killed you here and there but it also almost killed either the user or other people around you.. but afterwards everything would have been fine. Plus you didn't blame the magic for those situations. you couldn't even say you blamed the user. some deserved the blame.. but not everyone..

how did you get here..? probably from your big mouth, you should have been smart when you were talking to Rollo. he was already giving you weird vibes and you just had to make it worst

you had more questions but you knew none of them would get answered..

you started to slowly open your eyes..

where are you..? what's this sound..? why cant you move..?

you slowly looked around, you remember this place... Rollo showed you, with your friends. the big bell, the bell of Solace. you noticed that you were alone though..

you looked around some more, you looked out from where you sat on the floor. it was dark out but with an orange hue... was the sun rising..? what's going on?

you went to take a step, to look out but something stopped you. a cold hand..? no..? a chain?!

if you weren't fully awake then, now you are! the chain was short, at least 2 feet long from the floor, it was attached to both your ankles. you could only go so far out.

what happened?! what's going on?!?

you started breathing heavily, tears started to form. you felt so confused, so lost. someone, anyone, please hel-

"oh my dear! you're awake."

your blood became ice, you looked up to see an uncomfortably happy Rollo.. he had a basket of breads and fruits.

"i was so worried that you'll never wake up. I'm very happy you did~"

with a heavy chest, you spoke.

"what's going on, Rollo!? Why are we here? why am i-?"

"oh within time my dear angel~ we just have to wait for those flowers to do their miracles. in the meantime, eat. you've been sleeping for a while and-"

"flowers..? what are you-...? Rollo...."

you took a deep breathe to try to settle your nerves.

"Please, Rollo... I'm scared. please tell me what's going on."

he looks at you and sighed, placing the basket down on a near by table. He then walked over to you and sat beside you, motioning you to come closer to him.

You did. you don't really have a choice right now..

"I'm making our perfect little world my love~ our paradise~"

you looked at the man like he was crazy. he was, at this point. But he continues.

"the Crimson flowers, the one that looks like fire, the flowers i shown you when you toured the city, they have the ability to take a mage's magic until they are just magicless people.. like you."

you stared at him but he kept smiling.

"magicless.. like me..?"

"yes my dear, then everyone in this world would have to understand magic is like a poisonous weed that has to be pulled out. or it'll spread to the other crops."

you just stared. you couldn't bare to keep looking at him so you turned to look at anything else..

magicless like you... no.. this isn't right. this cant happened!

Rollo thought the conversation was over and sat up to get the basket.

"Before this started, i made sure to get some food. i thought you'll be hungry so-"

"...mon...ster..."

Rollo froze. he was facing the backet and didn't turn around.

"excuse me..?"

you stood up, leaning against the wall, as best as you could. You knew your big mouth was gonna put you in a tough situation again but- what were you suppose to do?

"you, Rollo Flamme, are a monster."

he slowly turned to you, his eyes screamed murder. even if your body is shaking, from fear, from anxiety, from anger, maybe all of them at once's, but you kept your eye contact with Rollo.

You knew a comment like that will hurt him. you knew you couldn't physically harm him but you just wanted to hurt him like he planned to do the same to everyone you cared for..

the silence was deafening.

Rollo took some slow steps to you and leaned down to your level.

"take. that. back."

"no. cause i didn't say anything wrong.."

you hear Rollo take a deep breath and he quickly snaked his hand to grab the nape of your neck. you let out a gasp, from the sudden movement. he straighten his posture and brought you to his eye level.

"it's seems that those... mages.. have filled you with their poison. I'll just have to purify you myself. don't say i didn't warn you, my angel.."

he dragged you to a window and made you look outside. the entire city was filled with those flowers but... the looks of those flowers... made it look like you were in the middle of a raging firestorm. you felt your stomach drop. you felt cold shivers, and you didn't even realized that tears were falling. when you looked more, you noticed that the "fire" was slowly climbing the tower you were in.

you were about to let out a blood curdling scream but you were stopped by Rollo tying that purple handkerchief into a makeshift gag for you.

After that, he threw you, face down into the ground. Your body was shivering from fear so intensely, to the point that it feels like you lost complete control over your body. you couldn't even fight back when Rollo tied your hands together.

"i, really, am sorry for this my sweet angel~ but i have to get rid of the poison that those mages put in you... you have to be purified."

Rollo walked off and came back holding a fireplace poker. it was glowing red and you could see smoke coming off of it. where he got that, you didn't know but your attempt to get away from him was met with a wall against your back.

you felt your head spin, you were trembling to no return, the hot tears wouldn't stop, and the makeshift gag he put on you was now soak with tears, saliva, and snot.

Rollo kept walking towards you, in an agonizing slow pace.

"don't worry, my angel love~ after this, all will be forgiven~"

when he went to grab your face, he-

"MC!!"

those are.. familiar voices.. you know those voices..

"tch.. i suppose your punishment will have to wait my love. apparently, ill have to finish these pesky mages off myself."

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prettieinpink · 1 year ago

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being smart makes u prettier !!

If you’re somebody who’s not an active student rn, you’re on holiday, you want to become more smarter, looking for brain exercises before studying or you just want to be smarter without studying everyday this post is 4 u!!!!

READ!!!!!!!

This is crazy to me, the amount of people who don’t read is so high. You don’t even have to read a hard-copy book, just reading an article is literally enough to keep your brain exercising.

Some benefits i’ve noticed with reading consistently are my memory is literally boosted and my vocabulary is better. Though, i’ve only started reading every night like 2 months ago.

It does not need to be an educational or extensive literature book. Even some random book like an fantasy romance is gonna give you the same benefits.

Start writing whatever

This goes in pair with reading, but writing is literally the best brain exercise ever. Even if its journaling or some stupid short story, it all counts plus its really fun

One you begin writing, your mind just becomes less cluttered and you’re just less stressed. And its a perfect creative outlet for those who arent as artsy

Focus meditations

Before literally any task, whether its deep or shallow work but its still exerts your mental energy, do a focus meditation

Helped me become 10x productive and its so much easier to get into the flow of work

So important if you're an student or studying anything!!!

Download elevate!!

Its available on IOS but idk about androids

Basically it's an app where you can do three mental exercises each day, and it keeps track of your progress and gives you highlights after each session

It helps with mental maths, communication, eloquence and general writing!

Learning how to think on your own

It's crazy to me how much people rely on the internet. You do not need to scroll pinterest each time for outfit inspiration, searching up writing prompts each time you write or even ask the internet for personal advice

When people are bored, so instead of just being bored they decide to consume a whole lot of content that is not nourishing the mind

Its definitely okay to do, but not always

So take a step back, and ask yourself, ‘could I really survive a day of doing tasks without once using any source of the internet?’ ‘is this media allowing my mind to flourish? Or is it killing it?’

Thinking by yourself is now such a valuable skill, if you don't have it, DEVELOP IT.

Randomly research everything

If u get curious about something don’t just let it float in your head, taking up mental space

Instead research it! Even the little things like an random flower, how are playgrounds manufactured, the history of beds or the most expensive pencil ever.

conservations are so easy 4 me now because i know a lot of random stuff that the usual person doesn't care about! It makes it so easy for you to stand out too

203 notes · View notes

kurimiaki · 1 year ago

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Without a name, things tend to get lost. [III]

Heartslabyul’s terms of endearment

Octavinelle’s set is here!

Content warning: dark content, toxic relationships, manipulation, verbal and physical abuse, forced intimacy

Riddle Rosehearts

By his word, Riddle truly had tried to remain amicable and open-minded for this date.

Too-rigid, too-coddling, too-stuck for time, too-unbending. You had tried to impress upon him the importance of fluidity, fun for fun’s sake, and a sense of ease which he has yet to fully feel on these types of romantic excursions. It’s difficult to entirely will himself away from ironclad routine and tradition, the dating guides he poured himself over in the library, what to do and what to avoid, the formulaic manner in which he wants to pursue your hand.

It’s all in the effort to satisfy you. To guarantee your partnership, commitment, and adoration. But it’s a hearty struggle for Riddle to live easily— rules are foolproof and unshakable, and shan’t allow his unease and insecurity to slip through the cracks. The fluid, lackadaisical attitude you wish him to assume certainly will, though.

He’d suggested a scarcely-populated and unfrequented cafe for a reason, and you’d vetoed his vote without care, adamant on lugging him over to some sleek new burger shop that recently opened on Sage’s Island, flush with people.

People he’d wanted to avoid, for fear of them robbing him of your attention. The things he’d wanted to speak about were overshadowed by your gushing over inconsequential things— the quirkily named menu items, their gargantuan milkshakes, that girl’s crazy boots, and, hey, was that an RSA student? Menial things, of no conversational value, void of substance. Things that deviated too far from his idealized date, that left him unsure and output. He had complacently nodded along, feigned a smile, and chewed up as much of his order as he could manage; but of course, change takes time to adapt to, and Riddle was less than content.

On your way back to campus, following along an isolated path cloaked in brushes and weeping willows, you become familiar with the consequences of pushing your boyfriend too far. Your takeout bag strewn about graveled ground, slushed and ruined strawberry milkshake soaking into dirt mounds and rocks, Riddle goes as far as to stomp down on the remains of your burger. “Was that fun for you, darling?” He jabs, emphasizing the last bit with a sneer, digging a finger hard on your sternum. You gape, grappling as to what could’ve spurred on such a drastic shift in his mood, but Riddle speaks for you.

“You’re a selfish little thing, aren’t you? You don’t think. Not about my preferences, my plans. Being seen fraternizing with you in public— alone, mind you— was a giant leap on its own. A risk.”

“I do try to be lenient, my dear, but all you do is take. You’ve even monopolized my time. See?” He lifts his wrist, removing his other hand from your sternum and unsheathing his casual dress shirt, showing you a watch. He taps the glass two times, clinking it with his fingernail, and sneers at you; so out of sorts, one might think you’d cussed out his mother. You open your mouth, the beginnings of a ‘how was I supposed to know that’ lingering on your lips, but he grasps your shirt collar and drags you down to him.

“If you’re so keen to make this relationship work, do right by me. Listen. That’s all I ask, darling.”

Riddle is not well-suited to the use of cheesy nicknames. Even something as benign as ‘my dear’ has the potential to throw him off kilter for his foreseeable future, utterly wrought with embarrassment and fear of coming on too strong. At his calmest, you’re not likely to receive an affectionate endearment from him— it’s much too unbecoming for a dorm leader to openly show favor like that, anyway. His inexperience is ultimately covered by the claim of ‘not wanting to be a biased ruler,’ which, quite blatantly, is an ineffective lie. To his credit, Riddle does try to be sweet on you. He has repeatedly practiced utilizing the name ‘darling’ in the isolated comfort of his dorm room, though he often finds himself flustered when merely conversing with a pillow.

But he’s fully in his element when buzzing with rage, isn’t he? He may not be the most articulate, gurgling and stomping around like a fussy toddler, threatening you with shattered teacups and sullying your dorm room with his tantrum: but he is free of inhibition and shame. Riddle will scream at you for allowing your grades to slip (it’s a burden to monitor you, you know, but he loves you well enough to take the task), but at least his blow is softened with the use of darling— albeit weaponized as a taunt, lilted and demeaning. In his furious blowouts, he’ll often take pause to berate you as if you were a fussy child yourself, cooing and verbally stooping to your (lower, in his distorted image) level, asking ‘do you understand that well enough, my dear?’ when your only transgression is running five minutes behind his predetermined schedule.

Riddle strictly calls you: darling, my dear. These are the only endearments he’s familiar with; he hasn’t been exposed to romantic media in the same way Ace has, for reference, and isn’t well-versed with what’s on trend to call one’s lover.

Trey Clover

“And now he won’t even answer me in class, Trey. And we sit next to each other!” You huff, throwing your arms into the air, growing increasingly irate, your every suppressed frustration bubbling up with ease in his presence. The beginnings of tears prick your eyes, and you feel your throat swell shut. To have an unresponsive group partner will always be an unbearable frustration— especially in Trein’s class, with his sink or swim curriculum, his rigid syllabus, his unwavering expectations. If your classmate doesn’t cooperate soon, you’ll fail.

You only wish you were headstrong enough to force him to comply.

All you can do, at present, is vent your every frustration with this situation to your sweet, doting, attentive boyfriend.

“I don’t know what to do…” You mumble, leaning against the cool kitchen countertop. You’re thankful that he’d entertain you so late in the night; not a soul can be heard in the surrounding rooms. It’s mostly silent, save for your ranting, the kitchen’s hum of electricity, the nervous shuffling of your feet.

Save for Trey’s worn sigh.

Exhausted, almost sounding more irate than even you, his mere exhale startles you straight. Is he mad? Eyes wide, worry seeps into you. Have you spoken too much? Had you even asked about his day? Are you being inconsiderate? You stutter something incoherent, but before your worn brain can muster something appeasing to say, Trey speaks up.

He lifts his glasses to rub his temple, green hair slightly tussled. He’s tired, and you certainly aren’t easing his tense mind.

“And what do you want me to do about this?” He starts, uncharacteristically monotone. Yellow eyes settle on you, unblinking, and you avert your gaze. Wholly intimidated, cowed into silence. When he wills it, Trey’s perfectly capable of sucking all the air out of a room.

Your sweet boyfriend speaks for you.

Pacing forward, he’s suddenly before you, so close the tips of your slippers touch. “I told you that one’s trouble, didn’t I?” Trey lightly chides, still cooly composed. ‘That one,’ being your fickle partner; the one your boyfriend did, indeed, warn you about. More than once, insisting that you inquire with your ever-intimidating professor about a group change, and to no avail. “Didn’t I?” He reiterates, pressing you for a reaction. You look away, a mix of scandalized and ashamed, called out on an error you hadn’t felt was too egregious to make. You thought you could handle it. You still can.

“Look at me, buttercup.” He implores, cupping your cheek with one hand and facing you to him— but, for fear of what you’ll find, and shame for the presumably selfish manner in which you’ve acted, your minor betrayal, you keep your eyes averted.

But your sweet boyfriend doesn’t like that, doesn’t enjoy offering his tenderness and receiving none of your compliance in return. Trey squeezes your cheeks so harshly his nails dig into your cheekbone, and you gasp, eyes immediately flickering to peer up into his.

“You know you can always trust me, right?”

You nod. Faintly feeling like he’d just grip your cheeks and do it for you, if you hadn’t.

“Take his name off of your research paper, tell Trein what’s been going on, and own up to it. It’s your work, sweetheart.” Thick fingers loosen their hold, and a soreness stabs the meat of your face, but you refrain from soothing yourself. He brushes hair from your eyes, and leans in to kiss your forehead.

“If you’d just listen, we wouldn’t have hiccups like this, would we?”

It’s a tad uncharacteristic for him, but still expected, given his pastimes and upbringing— Trey utilizes sickeningly sweet nicknames to when referring to you. He feels he’s being unoriginal when he calls you things like ‘honey’ and ‘sweetheart’, largely because he’s playing it safe and sticking to what he knows: what his parents call each other. It’s a secure bet to call you the aforementioned endearments, normal things like ‘pumpkin,’ but Trey does have a tendency to let pure sugar drip from his lips when he’s cross with you, using grossly saccharine names so as to glaze over the pure venom he’s fully capable of dishing your way when it’s warranted.

His idea is that, the sweeter his words, the more willing you’ll be to acquiesce to the severe alterations he wants to impose upon your relationship, which will ultimately bind you to him. Because he’s so articulate and persuasive in the manipulation he does, working the rest of your peers out to be these wholly volatile creatures so as to solidify his position as the sole recipient of your love, this strategy is incredibly effective. He plays a long game, planting little seeds of doubt in your own capabilities whenever you have the smallest slip-ups, hinting to the possibility that, yeah, maybe you’re just not cut out for an environment like this, that it’s in your best interests to quit, save yourself this cutting mental strain. It ultimately snowballs into a bigger issue, wherein you’re constantly left too-hesitant to pursue bigger feats in your school life, doubting your intellect and hard work thus far, feeling deep inadequacy in areas that you may not even struggle in. He’s at the root of it. And he’ll be there to soothe and sway you to him when you stray too far from the path you’d set for yourself, falling completely behind.

Trey doesn’t use lover’s nicknames too freely with you, though. They’re an indulgence, and something he typically doles out as a reward, somewhat micro-dosing you with doting words when you do what’s expected of you, and unprompted. Holding his hand, never straying too far from his lunch table, not growing too needy, listening to him (at bare minimum)— even going as far as to check up on your flossing and treat you with a ‘good job, honey,’ if you stay consistent. Like you’re some child.

Additionally, he’ll wean you from his tenderness should he feel the PDA gravitates too much attention to the both of you. He’s got no qualms in publicizing your relationship, and is in favor of doing so— but, as with most things, Trey is partly wary of exposing too much of himself, and this applies to you. It’s a mix of possessiveness and a desire to keep the raw parts of his life squared away, untouchable, and unseen. You’re among those things.

Trey loves to call you: sweetheart, honey, buttercup, muffin, sweetness

Cater Diamond

Cater wrenches you to him, hands spread over the expanse of your back, rubbing you up-and-down, as if attending to a distraught animal. The evening sun gleams through the club room’s windowpanes, kisses your cheeks, bathes you and Cater in a warm, honeyed veil. You’re both sat snugly atop a pile of pillows used to form a makeshift couch, snack wrappers littering the floor, the room left vacant with both Lilia and Kalim having long darted off to attend to their own dorms. Your boyfriend gives up on his half-assed massage and wraps an arm around your waist, curling over you and stuffing his face in the crook of your neck.

It’s intimate, it’s sweet, and it makes you flush. His earring rests cooly against your flushed cheek, and a smile tugs on the corner of your lips. It’s nice.

Even still, what he’d just said bordered on creepy. Invasive, possessive, and utterly strange, coming from him. In good conscience, you can’t let it slide.

“Cater?” You push, trying to nudge his head away from you, but he’s fully leaning on you now, his nose nuzzling into your jaw, this close proximity lightly frying your nerves. “Can you just— can we talk for a second? I don’t want to glaze over that.”

A little sigh comes from him at that, warm breath spreading over the expanse of your neck, making you shiver. “Glaze over what, cutie?” He croons into you, not sounding quite as irked as you anticipated he’d be from the interruption. If anything, he only squeezed your midriff a bit tighter, and you couldn’t exactly complain. It’s nice to be held like this.

Why don’t you quit your club for me?

You take a beat of silence, hoping that he’ll remember the jarring little tidbit he’d dropped on you not twenty minutes ago, his phrasing then disregarded and brushed away by the crushing gravity of Kalim’s excitement at the prospect of your participation in their band-snack-club… thing.

For me, he’d said. It’s not too weird, is it? He wants to spend more time with you. You’re already skipping over your obligations to your own club every other week to be with him, urged on by his club’s cumulative persuasiveness and heady enthusiasm, the ploy that Cater just really, really wants to see you more. That it’s boring without you there. It’s sweet that he’s so insistent, you think, but a thing of doubt gnaws at your brain. A bit of queasiness, at how easily he’d suggested you disregard what’s so important to you.

It’d be fine thing to say, had this not been the fifth time Cater’s brought it up, disregarding the five respective times you’ve already shot this suggestion down.

You like your club. You like what you do, and you really like the people in it. And you love Cater, of course, but you can’t deny the twang of uselessness you feel at wasting two hours to simply lounge and snack and sit in silence as Lilia mercilessly shreds an electric guitar, the sense that you’re misplaced, that there’s another place you’d rather be.

You’re queasy because of his insistence. You’re queasy because he won’t let up, and Cater seems just a little more annoyed every time he brings it up, as if he’s fed-up with some unreasonable display of defiance you’re putting up, that this is the end-all decision to the fate of your relationship.

You could very well be overthinking.

This could be no big thing.

He’s mouthing your neck at this point, warm lips lingering over your pulse. The hints of teeth he’d let roam your neck have you squirming by now, arms twitching to shoot up and brush him away from you, but you resist, indulging him in indulging you. It takes a moment to gather your bearings, find a modicum of mental fortitude, but you persist in your interrogation, wanting to quit the creeping discomfort that’s been nagging at you for weeks now.

“Cater, I’m not— I’m not comfortable coming over here anymore. After school, it’s… It’s better for me to do my own thing. I think. My club relates a lot to the field I want to go into, you know? It’s not optional for me.”

He doesn’t stop kissing at you. He doesn’t show a hint of concern to you, not baring a glimpse into what he’s thinking, and you’re getting a bit scared, to be fully honest with yourself. You want to be honest with him.

“And… I dunno. You’ve been really weird lately? Not, like, creepy or anything, just a little off. You don’t open up to me as much, and I feel like something’s wrong.” You explain, still letting him lean into you, wringing your hands in your lap as his lavishing persists, not once acknowledging your words. Taking a second to open room for an addition, you sigh as you’re met with silence, the movement of his lips not once abating. So you continue. “I just think—“

Cater bites your neck without an ounce of forewarning. A sensitive spot, the place he likes to tease his fingers over when he plays with your hair, that he knows can cripple you with a single chaste kiss. He bites down there, and hard. You stifle a cry, overwhelmed with a conflicting wave of pain and minute pleasure that does not abate. Confusion and fear overwhelms it all.

Your hand jolts to cover the aching impression the instant Cater lifts away from you, and you quickly turn away to face him, face twisted up in shock and slight discomfort at the jarring action, feeling quite miffed and, frankly, betrayed that he’d do something like that without asking. For biting you so hard. Hard enough for tears to prick your eyes, which, as you observe Cater lean back on the pillows with boyish ease, you’re faintly certain has caused his smile.

Lax and nonplussed with your shock and awe, the hint of trepidation that lingers around you, Cater spreads his arms, opening himself for another hug. As the seconds tick by, the longer you remain stagnant in your disarray, the more impatient he becomes. He leans forward, taking initiative, wrapping you again in his embrace and falling back with you.

Your boyfriend lets out a little ‘oomph’ upon contacting with the pillows, chuckling a little— so lackadaisical in nature, you could mistake this rendezvous for the same teasing tousling he likes to do in his dorm room, not the serious conversation you’d intended it to be. Why won’t he take you seriously?

His hand soothes over your head, lightly brushing over your baby hairs, and a little kiss meets your earlobe.

“Let’s just be quiet for a little while, yeah? Take it easy. You think too much, babydoll,” He coos, but not without a twinge of warning to his tone, sterner than he’s ever been with you. You go a bit rigid.

“You shouldn’t wear yourself out with useless stuff like that. Everything’s just peachy, isn’t it?”

Out of every Heartslabyul member listed here, Cater uses endearments with the most frequency. It’s expected of him!

He experiments with your nicknames like one would throw darts, constantly changing his flow of speech and choice words, shooting either to hit or miss. He’s not super in-tune with your likes and dislikes— it’s more so how his peers react to the nicknames he lavishes you in. If hearing him call you ‘booga-bear’ makes his dorm mates crumple up and cringe, he’s not likely to ever use it again. Whatever is popular to call one’s beau online, he’s likely to start calling you. It’s very impersonal, quite obviously only intended to build him up as the sweetly doting boyfriend he aims to be, superficial enough to throw you off. But he doesn’t exactly want that, either, so he’ll ease up a bit if he finds it makes you increasingly wary to accept his attempts at PDA, sticking to what’s tried and true— babydoll. It’s equal parts endearing and embarrassing, just intimate enough to make you squirm, with how quietly he’ll whisper it in your ear. Just below the rush he gets from a hit Magicam post is the thrill of making you shrivel up, be it out of shyness or plain discomfort. He likes to have that level of influence over your state of being, to get you to curl up from a small word.

Cater marks you his: babydoll, cutie, cutie-pie, lovebug, hon’, sugarlump, puppy, sweetums

Ace Trappola

Petulant, mean, and uncaring. Your boyfriend is a rotten bully. You fume and stomp down a main hallway, steps long and wide, aiming to make Ace acutely aware of your indignation.

“Leave me alone!”

“Baby, come on!” He groans, the noise reverberating throughout the gymnasium, following him out as he slams into the push handle and jogs after you. You don’t look back, walking faster now.

Mean, mean, mean. Who is he, to tell you to fuck off? What sort of boyfriend is he, to mutter that you’re only showing up to practice to ‘soak up attention,’ to flaunt and flirt with his teammates? You had thought doling out refreshments would be a nice gesture, something he’d recognize for what it is; his partner demonstrating support on a hot summer’s day, being his mini-cheerleader. You thought he’d be happy to see you.

‘Leave them there and go,’ are the words Ace greeted you with. Not a smile, no wave, no questions of why you weren’t at your own club, none of his typical sweetness. None of it. No, the second he spotted you in the sidelines with Floyd, he was immediately abrasive and cold, meandering over to tell you to piss off the instant a whistle blew for a break. Even upon pointing out your reason for being there, a cooler packed with carbonated sweetness and water, you received; ‘That’s nice, babe, but we’re busy.’

Perhaps if Floyd hadn’t been so close to you on the bench, Ace’s mood wouldn’t be so sour. His jarring bouts of jealously are a sign and dance that you are, regrettably, well familiar with. And utterly sick of.

But he’s always been quick to make a smooth recovery.

Catching up to you, breathless from the last game and the mini-sprint it took to reach you, Ace snatches up your forearm. You, still furious, wrench it away from him, but his hands are quick to follow. In a flurry of motion, you’re spun around to face him, shoulders gripped tightly by Ace’s sweaty palms.

To top off his absurd assholery, he absolutely reeks. You scrunch up your nose in distaste.

“Hey, hey, hey! Babe, I mean it. I’m sorry for being such an ass back there,” He smiles, crooked, his eyebrows knit together in a blatant mockery of regret. “That’s what you’re all mad about, yeah? I didn’t mean to talk so harsh. Honest.”

You open your mouth to rebuke him, attempting to shrug out of his hold, but he’s even quicker to interrupt you, to hold you tighter.

“I mean it.”

Tighter, tighter, tighter. Tighter until your shoulder locks up, rigid with pain, threatening to pop out of socket. You whine, thrash, try to maneuver yourself in such a way that throws him off of you, but Ace doesn’t let up. Till he wrings out your forgiveness, he won’t.

“I-I know! It’s fine!” Is what you muster, more of a yell than the timid acceptance he usually likes to hear from you, but it’s enough. His grip eases. You breathe.

And then he holds you, more tender than before, in that performative tenderness you can easily see through. It’s always the same— brush hair behind your ear, pepper your cheek, nose, forehead, and neck in kisses, and stroke your back up and down. He must think this is all it takes to rid you of your hurting.

Ace uses nicknames as one would a bandage. He strongly believes that, with enough sappiness, any wound he’s inflicted upon you can be easily amended. Typically, he’s too flustered to use endearments around his peers, not wanting to appear as some lovesick puppy-dog who’s desperate to win your favor. Cooly, he’ll call you by name, occasionally switching to ‘babe,’ if only to solidify his position as your boyfriend when he feels threatened by another man. Those sickly sweet nicknames only come up when you’re well and truly put-out with his abrasive behavior; he gets aggressive and accusatory when you display interest in anybody other than himself, and is both deliberately and unintentionally cruel, often forgetting himself and going too far with barbed words and vicious snipes. Only when you’re teary-eyed does Ace bust out ‘baby,’ cupping your cheeks in his hands and softly leveling with you— cooing warmly, as if he hadn’t just marked you a whore for electing to work with Deuce over him in a paired project.

Ace likes to call you: babe, baby, and (very rarely) cutie. Will try and fail to woo you by calling you ‘sexy’ and ‘kitten’. He’s not suave enough…

Deuce Spade

“You know… I’m not really comfortable with you hanging around Epel so much.”

You take pause from preparing Deuce’s study guide, setting your pen down mid-vocabulary word, leaving the bright blue flash-card unfinished. Intrigued, albeit slightly put-out by the serious tone he so rarely takes, you devote your full attention to him.

He immediately interprets your blank staring as open criticism rather than a gesture for him to continue— justifiably so, you suppose— but what do you say to something like that? What exactly has made him uncomfortable? Is he about to accuse you of something? You’re not sure. So you wait for him to speak, your expression the image of neutrality.

“Sorry. I’m sorry if that’s overstepping a little. I’m just… I don’t know, he’s a bit touchy, I guess ? He knows that I’m dating you, but he still calls you such nice things, and it’s kinda irking to see him hover around you like he does. Like he’s trying to win you over or something. I dunno,” He rapid-fires, speaking so hurriedly that you can hardly deliberate on what’s being said, as if to gloss over this blatant source of his concern.

Deuce has been clingy the past few weeks. To say the least. You’re well aware of his fried nerves as of late, but you’d thought to attribute the incessant lingering and repeated calls to his concern for midterms— that’s the viable excuse he had, anyway, and the very reason why you’re going so far as to make him a study guide right now. For a class you don’t even have.

“Maybe I’m just overthinking.” He asserts, about to brush away his statement, waving a hand in the air. Deuce’s right hand deftly flicks and twirls a pen, a mesmerizing little gesture, one you’re certain he’s doing to curb his own anxiety. You can feel his leg jolting up and down, practically vibrating from the intensity of his nerves. You think he’s finished, and open your mouth to inquire further, to coax out a better explanation from him, but he fires off again.

“I mean, it’s weird, right? I call you up to come over and study, like we promised, and he’s with you at Sam’s shop. He mozies up to our table in the cafeteria and sits next to you, and I have to sit two people away because, y’know, my class is so far away I’m always late, which I’m sure he knows. The apple thing, too, you know?” Deuce whines, breathlessly exasperated, so frantic in his explanation that you’re wildly taken aback, minimally gaping and grappling for an area to interject. But you can’t, and he continues for you.

“Cutting that apple for you. Making the slices into little bunnies, all that. I couldn’t even do it for you when I tried after school, and you had to wrap my hands cuz’ I’m such a clutz and went and cut myself, and— geez.” He breaks off, voice cracking, and you’re forced to full attention at the warble his lip takes, the wet gleam that instantly floods those striking chan eyes, threatening to drip down onto your freshly inked flash cards.

You don’t mind it. Instead, You immediately lean over the desk to cup his hands in yours, trying to ease him into meet your eyes as his own go glassy. He dips his head downward, clearly hiding from you.

“Hey, hey! It’s okay! Please don’t cry, Deuce.” You quietly urge, not keen on attracting any watchful eyes from around the library, empty though it is. You’d be sorry if anyone else saw him like this. If he became the butt of some joke for his sensitivity— you’ve always liked that about him. You don’t mind the tears, but you do worry.

So you do what any good lover would do, and comfort him. Do anything to right what’s making him so wrong.

“It’s Epel, yeah? You don’t want me to hang around him so much? That’s all fine. We’re weren’t even that close in the first place, Deuce. I swear.” Reaffirming him, you acquiesce to the inquiry that so quickly wracked him with anxiety, leaning over and pressing your forehead to his. “I wish I’d known about this. I’m sorry that I didn’t catch on sooner,” You offer, trying to get him to look at you with gentle reassurances, half-empty promises.

Then you kiss his forehead, and he rockets upright.

With a grin peeled over his lips, he leans forward to kiss your cheek, filled with fresh zeal and eagerness. Your eyes widen a bit at how quickly that crumpled expression fled his face. How immediately he resumed that easy boyishness of his, the sweetness that endeares him to you so much. It’s strange, but he kisses away the stitch that forms between your brows, too.

“I knew you’d understand, lovely. Thank you for being so considerate.”

Deuce knows much better than to degrade you in any capacity. Among a plethora of other life tips, his mother made it a point to drill into him the importance of respecting his partner, to communicate, harbor respect, to treat you as an equal. Ever since he meekly announced to her that he’d found you, she’s reminded him of this. Treat them well, she’ll note, every time he brings you up over the phone, which, admittedly, is incredibly frequent. So, he’s not likely to use the same monikers that Ace or Cater take to, which are markedly less respectful given the context they use them in— Deuce wants you loved and appreciated, and takes great care with what nicknames he chooses for you.

He’s flushed for hours after using it, but Deuce strongly favors ‘lovely’ for your trademark endearment, something to call you every day without fail, be it publicly or over the phone each night before bed. It’s sweet and easy, gentle, something that rolls off his tongue easier with repeated use. It’s comfortable and safe for him and you. It’s nice.

The issue with Deuce’s nicknames doesn’t pertain to you, necessarily, but trouble does arise when he seeks out a new individual to project his insecurities onto, someone he views as a threat to what you two have got going on. Be it with someone in his close circle physically inching too close to you, or an unknown classmate he shoulder-checks for staring at you too long, Deuce can quickly become volatile. To a fault, he’s incredibly possessive of you, and although it’s something he’s aware of, he struggles to keep it in check. Old habits die hard and, inevitably, he’s going to cuss someone out for crossing some benign and inscrutable boundary he’s made around you. Unbeknownst to you, or so he hopes. He’s not a massively threatening presence at school, but he’s got his fair share of bite— Deuce builds a bit of a reputation as an attack dog, where you’re concerned. If he deems it as warranted, he’s not above a bloody brawl. If his mom heard of any of this, she’d burst into tears. He’s quite certain that you’d leave him if you found out about him breaking fingers for the meager crime of latching onto your arm.

Deuce will call you: lovely, precious. He rarely deviates from these two, if at all.

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milunalupin · 28 days ago

Text

— rat

peter pettigrew x reader ★ 880 words

The chill of late autumn nipped at your cheeks as you and Peter wandered through the narrow, winding alleys of Hogsmeade. The quaint village was bustling with students, laughter ringing out from the shops, but a sense of unease settled in your stomach. You could feel the tension in the air—an unspoken dread about the war that loomed just beyond the horizon.

“Can you believe how crowded it is?” you remarked, trying to lighten the mood as you turned down a quieter path, away from the throngs.

Peter walked beside you, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his robes. “Yeah, it’s always like this. It’s like everyone’s trying to pretend everything’s normal.” His voice was distant, almost hollow.

You glanced at him, noticing the furrow in his brow. “You alright, Pete?”

He shrugged, avoiding your gaze. “Just thinking about things.”

The two of you turned another corner, the shadows deepening around you. You stopped at a small shop, its window filled with shimmering trinkets and potions, but Peter’s eyes were unfocused. You turned to face him and waited for him to meet your eyes, “Peter, what’s really bothering you?”

He took a deep breath, finally stopping to face you. “It’s about the war… and what’s coming. I’ve been thinking about joining the Death Eaters.”

The words hung heavy in the crisp air. Your laughter faded, replaced by disbelief. “What?”

“I know it sounds crazy–"

"Peter you can't–"

"But Voldemort can offer me security," he continued, desperation creeping into his voice, “Power. You have to understand. In this world, that means everything.”

Your heart sank. “Peter, this isn’t the answer. They’re dangerous—he’s dangerous. You’d be aligning yourself with pure evil.”

“I have to think of my future,” he insisted, the tremor in his voice betraying his fear. “What do I have now?"

You reached for his hand, trying to bridge the growing distance. “You have friends who care about you. You don’t need to sell yourself for security. You’re better than that.”

Peter looked at you, eyes filled with a mix of longing and desperation. “But what if you came with me? Together, we could be safe. We could have power.”

Your breath caught in your throat. “What? Peter, I could never—”

“Why not?” he pressed, frustration creeping into his tone. “You don’t know how it feels to be powerless. I’ve always been the one who hides. With Voldemort, we could finally be something—together.”

“Together?” you echoed, confusion and irritation mixing. “You’d be a pawn, just like everyone else who falls for his lies. This isn’t the way!”

He leaned closer, urgency in his eyes. “But you’re my best friend! I care about you. I don’t want to lose you. We could stand by each other through this chaos.”

Your heart ached at his vulnerability, yet fear crept in. “Peter, this isn’t about us. You’d be choosing darkness. I can’t support that.”

“Why can’t you see the possibilities?” he replied, a sardonic edge creeping into his voice. “You think you’re so much better than this? You’re throwing away a chance for real power, and for what? Dumbledore, the strongest wizard of our time who's sending us out like his little soldiers to fight for him?”

“That’s not it!” you shot back, hurt and anger mixing. “I’m trying to protect you!”

“Protect me? You mean keep me in my place,” he retorted, his words sharp. “You’re scared, and that’s fine. But don’t pretend you’re doing this for me. You’re just afraid of the dark. I’m not, and I’m tired of being left behind.”

Your heart sank at his words. “Peter, please—this isn’t who you are.”

“Isn’t it?” he replied, crossing his arms. “Maybe I’ve just been waiting for the right moment to step out of your shadow. James' shadow, Sirius', Remus', all of you. You think you have all the answers, but this is a war. It’s survival, and I’m not going to sit idly by while everyone else gets what they want.”

“Survival doesn’t mean joining a monster!” you exclaimed, tears threatening to spill.

He shrugged, a bitter smile playing on his lips. “Maybe it does. Maybe I’m just smarter than you give me credit for. If you won’t join me, that’s your loss. I’m done playing the sidekick.”

You stared at him, stunned by his dismissal. “You don’t mean that.”

“Sure I do. If you’re not willing to step up, then why should I drag you along? I’ll find my own way, with or without you,” he said, his tone dismissive, masking the fear lurking beneath.

As he turned to leave, you felt the weight of his choice settle heavily in the air. “Peter, wait—”

But he didn’t look back. “Good luck with your choices, Y/N. I hope they keep you safe when the real darkness comes.”

And with that, he walked away, leaving you trembling in the flickering light. The rift between you had widened into a chasm, filled with hurt and regret.

As the war loomed closer, you felt the heaviness of his absence. Peter’s choice was made, and in that choice, a piece of your heart was lost, echoing with the pain of betrayal and longing. The shadows had claimed him, and all you could do was watch as he stepped further into the darkness.

#marauders #marauders era #marauders x reader #peter pettigrew #peter pettigrew x reader

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borathae · 2 years ago

Text

↳ Index [Chapter 20 - Attic]

Warnings: lots of emotion, they finally talk!, deep and honest conversation, i want them to be happy always

Wordcount: 6.1k

a/n: *in Kookie’s voice* finallyyy

“Princess?” he tilts his head to the side, “what are you doing here?”

“Kook called me and said that he needed help. What are you doing here?”

Yoongi shows you his phone.

“The same”, he says.

“I don’t get it. Where is he?”

Bang!

You both flinch, eyes flitting to the door which just this moment flung closed.

Click.

Someone just locked it.

“What is happening?” you ask, hurrying closer to Yoongi because quite frankly, you were feeling very spooked. He seems annoyed, inching closer to the door, “do you know what’s happening?”

“Yeah”, he says, “hey, punk. What are you doing?” he calls out, banging his hand on the door.

“I’m doing what’s necessary!” Jungkook’s voice sounds behind the door.

“Kookie? What’s happening? Are you okay?”

“Yeah”, he says, “but you guys aren’t, so you are not leaving this room until you are.”

“Oh”, you let out, eyes flitting to Yoongi as everything falls into place.

“Open the door, brat”, Yoongi growls, banging on the door again.

“No! You guys need to talk first!”

“This isn’t funny, open the door before I rip it out of its hinges.”

“No” Jungkook sounds stubborn, “you guys love each other, so stop avoiding conversation.”

Yoongi sneaks a glance at you. The intensity of his gaze makes you gulp.

“This is your last chance”, he growls, wiggling the doorknob violently.

Music starts. Slow romance songs. Somewhere in this room Jungkook must have hidden his bluetooth speaker and now he pressed play on his phone.

“Jungkook!” Yoongi warns, “open this fucking door, you bratty punk.”

“I’ll open this door once you talked”, Jungkook answers him.

“Okay that’s it. I’m ripping it out”, Yoongi says, tugging at the doorknob.

You stop him, placing your hand atop his’.

“Or maybe we could try?” you say quietly.

Yoongi studies your face, jaw tense and eyes dark.

“Please? Maybe?” you whisper.

He exhales loudly, dropping his hand from the doorknob.

“What do you want to say?” he says dryly.

“Apologize, I guess? Say how fucking sorry I am? And that I miss you like crazy.”

“Mhm”, Yoongi acknowledges you.

“I’m so sorry.”

He nods his head and turns. You watch as he drags his feet to the mattress, sitting down right at the edge of it.

You hurry to him, sitting down. You give him his space, knowing that he needs it.

You stay silent for now, wanting to give him the chance to speak his mind.

“I can’t believe this idiot is using my own tricks against me”, he murmurs, “fuck, he’s such a brat.”

“You have to admit, the idea is kind of genius.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Don’t blame the student, you’re just a good teacher. It’s not his fault that he learned from the best”, you say, making him scoff. It was laced with the slightest amount of amusement.

“Yeah, I…I just, fuck-”, he says, head lowered and shoulders sagging, “I can’t do this. This was a stupid idea. I’m ripping the door out”, he says, trying and failing to flee because before he can stand up, you have him pulled back down.

“I like talking”, you say, caressing his knuckles.

“I feared you were gonna say that”, he murmurs.

“Really?” you chuckle even if the air is tense, “why is it so bad that I do?”

“Because I suck at it?” Yoongi lets out a nervous scoff.

“I don’t think you do. Just tell me how you feel, maybe?”

“I don’t know how I feel, okay?” he sounds pissed but you know that his voice is only as harsh as it is because he is nervous and in an unfamiliar situation. His guards are up, that is all, “I just know that I’m still so goddamn upset with you, but despite that it sucks ass to give you the silent treatment. I just…”

He sneaks a shy glance at you.

“I care about you”, he whispers, “you are different, I don’t want to treat you like I normally treat people who anger me. Once people really piss me off, I have no problem cutting ties, but not with you. I don’t want to cut you outta my life.”

“I’m glad you think that way. You’re different for me too. I’m sad when people leave, but it’s okay in the end because I expected them to leave. But with you, I turn into a complete clingy idiot and I want to keep clinging onto you to avoid being left”, you laugh painfully, “giving you your space the past few days was so hard because I missed you like crazy.”

Yoongi scoffs.

“I know, it’s so childish”, you say.

“No, it’s not, I’m”, he exhales, “shit, I don’t know what to say. How do you talk shit out?”

“I get that. You need time and your thoughts are probably jumbled. Can I tell you how I feel maybe?”

“Yes please.”

“Okay so. I think, I’m so clingy because I really love you? Like actually love you? A-and I haven’t had that kinda love with anyone before you and it’s so epic to feel”, you catch the little nod he does, “but now, I’m really scared that I fucked up completely and you’ll never forgive me. And I’m sorry, so goddamn sorry. That’s how I feel. I feel so guilty and so sorry and so scared that I’ll lose you.”

Yoongi nods his head in understanding. He stays silent as he thinks over what you told him, picking at the skin of his thumbnail to keep himself grounded. There is an owl outside your window. It is making noise, cooing behind the glass at something that will never be revealed to you. Maybe it is the moon, maybe the stars or maybe it is solely doing it for itself.

“This is the point where you say something”, you whisper, studying his features.

“I know”, he answers you just as quietly, looking at you for just a second before he averts his gaze back to his own hands. “You didn’t fuck up completely”, he begins, “I don’t want to leave you. I want to forgive you, I really do. But I just…can’t do this yet. I’m not ready for that, because I feel…”

He shies away, touching the side of his neck almost as if he wanted to soothe himself.

“I’m so hurt”, he presses out, forcing the tremor in his voice to be as quiet as possible, “knowing that you did all of that so easily hurts me. I haven’t slept in days because I keep repeating what happened. I still feel your blood on my fingers, fuck.”

Yoongi looks at his trembling hands.

You want to reach out and hold them, but you don’t know if you are allowed to. So you look at his hand and feel your heart twist in pain.

“I hate blood sharing so much”, he presses out.

“I hate it now too”, you say.

“Maybe it’s because I’m prude and stuck-up like Jimin said, but I can’t understand this lifestyle. It hurt me every single time in the past and I hurt people too because of it and I guess…”

He lets out an exhausted sigh.

“I guess what hurts me so much right now is the thought that you were willing to partake in the lifestyle which caused me so much harm?” he almost asks the sentence, “maybe it was my own fault too? I know that it’s unfair of me to expect of you to know how I feel about blood sharing when I haven’t specifically told you yet, but I just thought that…that I- I don’t know how to say it.”

He sits up, putting some distance between the two of you. He is fumbling with his fingers awkwardly.

“Just say how you want to say it. It’s okay.”

“Goddamn it, I thought that I had made it clear enough for you to at least connect the dots. You’re so intelligent and always make great connections and yet you couldn’t even think for a second that maybe you wanting to be a, a”, he falters for a second, “a fucking living blood bag could hurt me? I walked in on you being fucked so roughly whilst bleeding out and it makes my heart ache whenever I think about it. Fuck, I could throw up thinking about what they did to you. Why would you want that?”

He looks at you.

“I’m sorry”, he whispers.

“For what?”

“I was being harsh. Y-you told me I should say it how I wanted to, but it sounded harsh. I can’t help it, I’m not used to being gentle.”

“You didn’t sound harsh. Thank you for telling me.”

“Yeah, well”, he turns his head away, touching his own ear, “whatever.”

“I really hear you, my love”, you say, placing your hand on his thigh, “and you are right, I really should have made that connection, but I didn’t and for that I’m really sorry.”

You squeeze his thigh.

“You have every right to be upset about what you had to see”, you say, “we went too far. The thing you had to walk in on was too much.”

Yoongi nods his head, balling his shaking fingers into fists.

“I don’t know if this will help you feel better, but the other times we shared blood weren’t like that.”

Yoongi tightens his fists, biting back a whimper wanting to come out.

“The sex during the sharing wasn’t like that in the past. I wasn’t in pain during the other times and I-”

“Be quiet”, Yoongi interrupts you, “be quiet when all you can do is defend him. Over and over and over again. Fuck.”

The last word was said with such heartbreak that it hurts you just as much.

“I can’t take much more”, he presses out, hiding his face behind his hand, “please, don’t talk about this. It hurts so much.”

“Yoongi”, you breathe shakily, placing your hand on his thigh, “I’m sorry, I didn’t want to upset you, I wanted to assure you that I wasn’t always treated like that. Fuck, I’m so sorry.”

He doesn’t flinch away, he doesn’t tense up, he doesn’t react. He just sits there, shoulders shaking and face buried in his hands.

“I’m so sorry”, you choke out, scooting closer to rest your cheek on his shoulder.

“Why?” he croaks, “why did you do this?” his voice cracks, “I don’t understand”, he squeaks out and sobs into his hands, “why do you keep defending him? Why do you do that? Why?”

He turns his head, looking at you through the curtain of his tears.

“Ever since you met him he hurt you. He lies to you, manipulates you, controls your mind and gets you hurt over and over again”, he furrows his brows, “and he doesn’t even see it necessary to apologise”, he spits angrily, before sadness washes over his features again rendering him unable to look at you. He buries his face back in his hands, sobbing loudly, “why do you keep defending him? What do you see in him? I don’t understand.”

“I’m sorry”, you press out, “I don’t know why I do, but you’re right. You, you really are.”

Yoongi whimpers, curling into himself as his body begins to shake.

“Hey, my love”, you cup the back of his head in worry, “what’s wrong? You are shaking like crazy.”

Yoongi squeezes his head, “I’m gonna lose you to him”, he croaks, coughing out a sob, “I’m so scared that he’s gonna kill you.”

“No my love, no. He won’t kill me, I know him.”

“Yes he will”, he presses out in a trembling voice, “he almost did so when he fucked you. Oh god”, he retches as if his stomach wants to empty itself, “fuck”, he gags again, coughing afterwards, “I almost lost you”, he croaks, coughing out a gagged sob.

“Are you having a panic attack?”

He nods his head as best as possible, twisting his own hair to the point it barely stays on his scalp. He sobs and gags, convulsing in the intensity of it.

“Okay, that’s- don’t worry, I’ve been living with those bastards my entire life. I know they suck, but you’ll get through this.”

Yoongi wheezes, squeezing his eyes shut. He can barely breathe. His chest is so tight. His tummy keeps tensing up.

You keep him grounded with a soft touch to the back of his neck, massaging him slowly. You have no idea how much this helps, but you hope that it does.

“We’ll do something my cousin taught me. We called it the 54321 game. It’s very easy, trust me”, you say.

“I-I..don’t..want…games”, he gets out.

“It’s helpful. You just have to tell me five things you can see. Then four, three, two until we’re at one. And we’ll repeat the process with all your senses until you feel better.”

“What? How is, is that gonna help?”

“Just try. Go as slow as you need to.”

“No.”

“Yes Yoongi. We have to ground you again. Now come on, tell me five things you can see.”

Yoongi does. He begins with five things, breathing slower once he reached four things. He stops shaking after the three things he can feel and stops clutching his own hair after two things he can hear. He says his tears for one thing he can taste and by that time, his breathing has gotten back to normal and his eyes stopped crying.

He doesn’t look at you. He doesn’t move. He simply sits, staring at the floor with glassy eyes whilst breathing normally. You know how exhausted he must feel right now.

“How are you feeling?”

“Better”, he says without emotion. It’s a telltale sign of how drained the panic attack left him.

“Good, that’s good to hear”, you comb his messy bangs out of his face, “I’m glad that you feel a little better, my love. You did really well with the game.”

Yoongi inhales and squeezes his eyes shut, wrapping his fingers around your wrist just to hold something. He pulls your hand to his cheek, making you cup it. Only then he exhales, doing so terribly shakily. His fingertips are cold while his palms are sweaty. You hold him even tighter.

“Please don’t leave me this way”, Yoongi begs in a whisper, “please don’t do that. It would kill me. Please.”

“Of course not. Oh my love”, you say, scrambling off the mattress just to kneel down in front of him, “I’m not going anywhere. I’m here. Feel that?” you press his hand to your chest.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Your pulse is beating against your ribcage, reminding him that you were here. That you were alive.

Yoongi twists a bundle of your shirt so he can pull you closer, feel you better, make sure that what he feels is real.

“Can you feel that?” you ask, squeezing his hand, “can you feel my heartbeat?”

He nods his head.

“I’m still here, my love”, you promise him, “I’m still here”, you repeat the words so he will truly hear you. So that he knows that you aren’t lying. You’re still here and you won’t leave like this.

But Yoongi doesn’t believe you. This is just a trick again. A trick of the evil entity which has been writing his life and turned it into the lonely, dark play it has always been.

He pulls you into him, lowers his head to your chest so his ear was pressed against it. His eyes close. Your fingers tangle in his hair and scratch at his scalp. The touch sends shivers down his spine.

Tudun. Tudun. Tudun.

Your pulse echoes in your chest. He can feel it too. Rhythmical and constant. Fast because you are feeling just as upset as he is. But it’s right there. Even if fast, it’s right there. The proof that you are alive, that those horrifying images haunting him are just that. Horrifying images which haunt him. You didn’t leave him.

Yoongi releases a shuddering breath, wrapping his arms around you so he can pull you close.

You cradle his head, placing a kiss atop of it. He may seem exhausted to you, but he feels relieved. He isn’t a stranger to panic attacks. They haunted him throughout his whole life and most lasted days. This is the first attack which came and went within minutes and Yoongi knows that it was only because you helped him. He feels so relieved.

“Yoongi my love, I am really so goddamn sorry”, you whisper.

Yoongi nods his head and lifts it. He leans into you. You cup his cheeks to wipe his tears away.

“I know”, he whispers, staring into your eyes as if they were the only thing he can see.

“What can I do to make it better? I want to fix this.”

“You don’t…” he hesitates and looks away. He pulls you close. You allow him, hugging him when he rests his head on your shoulder.

“Whatever you need, I will do it”, you whisper.

“I don’t know what I need. I’m so…” he lets out a shaky breath, “I’m so tired.”

He hopes that you understand what he means with that. That he is so tired, not only physically but also of making decisions. He can’t be strong anymore, he has no energy left to decide what he needs.

“I understand”, you say and you mean it, “then I’ll hold you for a while, yeah?”

He nods his head, growing soft and incredibly small in your arms. As if all he needed to finally take off the mask of strength were your words of understanding.

You run your fingers up and down his back, play with his hair and reassure him of your presence with soft kisses to his closed lids and forehead. There is no strength holding him up, he rests against you with his entire weight but you don’t mind. He can lean on you for as long as he needs to.

“Why do you still love him?” his voice is barely audible.

“Yoongi…” you whisper, feeling a painful lump form in your chest.

“Why do you still do that? I don’t understand.”

“I don’t know”, you press out the words.

“Does he force you? Like he did back then? Does he know something I don’t? Is he blackmailing you? Why do you still want him here?”

“None of those, my love. I’m just…just…sad.”

“Sad?”

“Yes, sad. Sad because he was so sweet and lovely once and now… now he doesn’t even deem it necessary to see his own faults. This can’t be him. This isn’t like him. I don’t want to accept that this is the real him.”

“Maybe you should”, he trembles in a little sob, “before he kills you. Oh god.”

You squeeze him tighter, hoping that this could stop the panic from rising in his chest again.

“I’m here my love”, you assure him, “and you have to believe me when I say that I don’t want to bloodshare anymore. I won’t do it again, you have to believe me.”

“What if he wants it again?”

“Then I tell him no. He has to respect my decisions, doesn’t matter what he wants.”

“What if you fight with him because of it?”

“It’s a little too late for that already.”

“What do you mean?”

“We’re already fighting because of it.”

“Oh.”

“But that doesn’t matter right now and it’s a problem you don’t have to help me with. Don’t worry about it, my love”, you caress his knee, “I don’t want to blood share anymore, I told him that.”

He lifts his head, staring at you with childish, sad hopefulness.

“Really?” he whispers.

“Yes, my love. Really”, you assure him, “I love you the most I ever loved a person and I would do anything for you.”

“Really?”

“Yes, Min Yoongi. Fucking yes.”

Yoongi nods his head, resting his hand atop yours.

“Thank you”, he gets out in a small whisper, sinking into you again afterwards. You hold him tightly, playing with his hair.

“Of course, I want to hear what upsets you, so I can work on changing it.”

“Me too”, he says, sneaking a glance at you but avoiding eye contact, “can I still have some time? I want to think more.”

“Yes, you can. We talked about a lot of stuff right now, I get it. I want you to be able to sort through your thoughts. You need that, don’t you?”

He nods his head, “sorry, that’s how I function I guess.”

“It’s okay. I respect that.”

“Thank you”, he whispers, squeezing your waist softly and resting his head on your shoulder.

“Can I ask for one more reassurance that you won’t break up with me, though?”

He lifts his head to look at you.

“I, I want to give you time, I really do. But I get so anxious that you’ll change your mind and break up with me. Sorry, I guess I function that way?”

Yoongi nods his head, “I understand, I do”, he says and caresses your waist gently, “I don’t want to break up with you. You’re my love.”

“Okay, that’s good to hear. Thank you for the reassurance.”

“Mhm”, he nods his head. He turns away slightly and looks at the ground, “can we keep the panic attack between us?”

“Of course, my love. You know by now, what happens between us stays between us.”

“Thank you, it means a lot.”

“To me too”, you say, caressing his cheeks, “can I tell you one last thing before you leave?”

“Sure?” he sounds wary, cocking his right eyebrow up.

“And please don’t think that this is some asshole scheme to keep you here, I-I’m just trying to clear s-stuff up”, you stutter.

“Just tell me, ___”, he says, eyes glued to your face nervously.

“Okay so”, you begin, “will it change anything about how you think if I told you that I didn’t want to drink Jimin’s blood?”

Yoongi straightens up, rolling his shoulders back. His eyes carry shock and deep down the first ambers of rage flicker.

“What did he do?” he asks, growling the words.

“It, it was that night at the club a-and I was in the bathroom when he came after me and we, uhm, we uh, did the thing.”

“Tch.”

“And then he began kissing my neck and then all of a sudden he bit me.”

Yoongi clenches his jaw, staring at you with dark eyes.

“And because he didn’t want Tae to find out, he uhm… made me swallow his blood. And then cleaned me to hide the blood.”

You stare at him once you finished your story. He is dead silent, eyes dark and focused on you. It makes you nervous to have him look so calm and yet so angry. Every passing second spent in silence feels like hours. You did what you had to do. You told him what Jimin did, just like you promised Seokjin, and yet now that you did, you wonder if it was even the right thing to do.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” his voice is quiet, but you know better than to trust it. Yoongi is boiling in anger.

“Because he told me that if I told anyone, Tae would want him to leave and I’d be responsible for him losing his best friend again.”

“Fucking hell”, he presses out, looking away, “you should have fucking told me.”

“I was scared.”

“Of what? You know you can tell me anything”, he hisses.

“I felt. No”, you stop yourself, “feel”, you correct yourself, “guilty for what happened.”

“Why?”

“Because I let him kiss me like that and I, you know uhm, orgasmed and I didn’t even stop him until it was already done.”

“Holy fuck, please tell me you wanted him to do this you. Please princess, tell me he didn’t do even more to you than just force feed you blood. I swear if he did, I’m gonna fucking torture him.”

“I wanted the, uhm, naughty things. I guess. I was drunk, so yeah”, it is hard confessing such things, it makes you feel so ashamed to admit it, “just not the blood and the biting. He asked for consent for the dirty stuff, just went too far in the end.”

“Fuck”, Yoongi presses his hand against his forehead, “holy fuck, I’m going to actually kill him.”

“Please don’t do that. This, this is exactly why I didn’t want to tell you, because I didn’t want you to get upset.”

“Upset? I’m not upset, I’m fucking furious”, Yoongi growls, looking at you with ruby eyes, “how dare he do this to you. I’m going to rip him to shreds.”

“Please don’t”, you beg, trying to calm him down by taking his left hand.

“Fuck”, he exhales, hiding his face in his own knees as he folds into himself. He twists the hair at the back of his head, “why didn’t I notice that you smelled like him? Holy fuck!” he jumps up, kicking a pillow across the room, “I’m so angry at myself. I should have noticed!”

“Don’t blame yourself please. It wasn’t your fault.”

“Yes it was. I failed you”, he says, pointing at you with his finger, “I’m going to kill him. I’m serious princess, I’ll goddamn torture him for what he did to you. I fucking promise you that much, this is not going to go unpunished.”

“Please think about that first.”

“Why should I?”

“Think of Taehyung.”

“Fuck. This. Brat”, Yoongi hisses, “he should still be rotting in his cell. Stupid bastard, I never should have released him.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“Give me a goddamn break. I’m tired of this spoiled bastard always fucking everything up and toying with your life. Where was he when it happened? You went out together and yet he didn’t even bother to check when you were gone for a while? Or afterwards when you came back from the toilet? What did he do?”

“I can’t remember. I was pretty drunk”, you lie because you don’t want to upset him with the truth. That Taehyung was happy you had sex with Jimin and that he looked forward to the threesomes you would be having from now on.

“Nothing. Of course. Your lie was proof enough. He did nothing. Fuck!” he almost yelled the last word, gripping a candleholder to throw it against the wall.

“Yoongi please stop”, you prevent it from happening, “you’re scaring me when you’re like this.”

Yoongi lowers his arm, studying your face. Regret fills his eyes instantly.

“Princess”, he says in a soft voice, dropping the candleholder on the floor mindlessly to instead hurry back to you. He cups your face, tugging you to your feet this way, “don’t be scared please. I won’t ever hurt you”, he says, running his thumbs over your cheek before leaning in to kiss them, “I won’t hurt you, do you hear me?”

“I know that. I’m not scared for myself, I’m scared that you’ll end up hurting yourself.”

He shakes his head, “don’t worry about that. I can’t hurt myself.”

“Well then I’m scared for the candleholder”, you joke in an attempt to lighten the mood.

It works. Yoongi lets out an amused scoff, eyes softening.

“Fuck the candleholder”, he says, painting a faint smile to your lips.

“Fine, fuck it”, you say, combing his messy bangs out of his face.

Yoongi inhales deeply and squeezes his eyes shut, wrapping his fingers around your wrist just to hold something. Only then he exhales, doing so terribly shakily. He does so multiple times, calming himself down this way.

“Goddamn it princess”, he presses out, “why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“I was scared that you would kill him without thinking.”

“I don’t do that, princess. You know that I don’t. When you tell me to, I hold back. You know that much by now”, he is slightly whining his words, widening his eyes in an almost childlike sulky manner.

“Are you angry at me now?”

“No, of course not”, he shakes his head, caressing your cheeks with his tender hands, “just tell me stuff like this, please. Okay?”

You nod your head, “yeah, okay. A-and I’m sorry for telling you tonight.”

“Why?”

“I don’t want you to think that this is a scheme to get you to forgive me. It’s not that, I just didn’t want to carry yet another secret with me. And I thought that if I told you, maybe I could show you that I’m not a complete cunt. I would never drink Jimin’s blood willingly. Never ever.”

“I know that this is why you told me, don’t worry”, he reassures you.

You caress his hands, pulling them to your lips so you can kiss them.

“I’m really sorry.”

“Stop saying that, I know”, he whispers, caressing your knuckles.

“Okay I’ll try a-and I want you to know that you can still leave, I also wasn’t trying to make you stay by telling you what Jimin did. If you still need time alone, I understand.”

Yoongi shakes his head, pulling you into a hug.

“Don’t make me leave”, he murmurs into your neck, picking you up just so he can hold you that much tighter, “you’re staying with me, you silly girl.”

“Okay”, you say, wrapping your limbs around him as best as possible. You feel so relieved to have him hold you like this. It makes you feel as if not all is lost.

Yoongi presses you closer, inhaling your scent shakily.

“Fuck princess”, his voice is muffled by your neck, “you’re so fucking reckless sometimes. You’ll cost me my last nerves one day.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Hush, you idiot. Just let me hold you.”

You chuckle softly, “okay, I’ll shut up now. You smell really good.”

“You too.”

Click.

The door opens. Jungkook steps into the room.

“See? It worked”, he says, calling both of your attention.

Yoongi lifts his head, placing you down carefully. He keeps his arm around your waist, caressing it slowly.

“You little brat, come here this instant”, he says.

Jungkook follows with a boyish cackle and confident cockiness in his eyes.

“Don’t be mad at me. You know that I’m a genius.”

“You’re deserving of some spanking, that’s what you are”, Yoongi answers him, gripping him by his waist just to pull him close and land a harsh spank on his buttocks.

Jungkook squeaks, falling against Yoongi with widened eyes and his butt chasing his hand.

Yoongi spanks him a second time and then goes to grab his chin harshly, squishing his cheeks in the process.

“Don’t think that I’m done with you. I’m letting you off tonight because I’m feeling gracious, but you little brat will get your punishment”, he says in a dark voice.

“Okay. Good”, Jungkook whispers, gazing at Yoongi with his knees feeling like puddy.

“Now come here, you two”, Yoongi says, picking you and Jungkook up to carry you to the mattress.

He throws the two of you on top of it and drops down himself right between your bodies. Face buried in the pillows and arms snug around your waists, he lays completely still.

“Uhm hyung?” Jungkook asks, trying and failing to wiggle into another position.

“Stay”, Yoongi orders him, “I need a distraction. I’ll kill shit otherwise.”

“I’m fine with that”, you say, snuggling closer to Yoongi. You begin playing with his hair, doing so slowly.

“Me too”, Jungkook agrees, placing his hand on Yoongi’s back to draw patterns on it.

Yoongi exhales shakily, muscles in his arms tensing.

“What are you guys doing to me?” his voice is muffled by the pillows.

Jungkook nuzzles closer to him, “what do you mean?” he asks, running his fingers up and down Yoongi’s spine and forcing shivers over his body.

“You guys are going to ruin me. I’ve never been that stressed in my entire life.”

You chuckle, Jungkook does too. Yoongi turns his head to the side, sending you a look.

“Don’t laugh at me. I’m really fucking upset.”

“Wait. Really?” you gasp.

Yoongi nods his head.

“Noo Yoongi Boongie, I’m sorry for laughing”, you say, cupping his cheek, “we’re here now, don’t worry.”

“I just wanna kill him”, Yoongi confesses, looking at you with big, pleading eyes, “he hurt my ___. Everything inside me tells me to go downstairs and rip him to shreds.”

“I know, but please don’t do this. I know you don’t want to hear that, but I don’t want Tae to lose his best friend again.”

“Why not? He’s nothing but a cunt. Taehyung’s better off without him.”

“You’ve seen how he was when Jimin was dead. Tae’s not better off without him.”

“Fuck, I can’t believe you’re protecting someone like Jimin”, Yoongi murmurs and turns his head away, looking at Jungkook that way.

“Hey, my love”, you whisper, running your fingers through his hair, “I’m not protecting him, I just don’t want Tae to grieve again.”

Yoongi stays silent.

“Do you understand my reasoning?” you ask him, “mhm?”

He huffs out air, but shivers when you massage his scalp right where it feels the best.

“Yoongi?”

“Don’t ignore her”, Jungkook says, “please you guys just made up, you can’t fight again.”

“I’m not fighting, I’m thinking”, Yoongi grumbles, now turning away from Jungkook to look back at you. He frowns, but slowly relaxes his features as you begin massaging his temple and forehead.

“I won’t kill him. For now.”

“That’s enough for me. Thank you so much, my love.”

“For now”, Yoongi insists, furrowing his brows, “if he acts up again and hurts you, I won’t hold back anymore.”

“I know, thank you for listening.”

“Tch, whatever”, he murmurs shyly, turning his head back to Jungkook. He runs his eyes up and down Jungkook’s features. Like this they are a good hand’s width apart, cheeks squished on the pillow and eyes locking after a second.

“Since when are you such a punk?” he asks Jungkook, making him giggle.

“I’ve learned from you, hyung”, Jungkook says, “remember when you made ___ and I meet in the gym so we could talk it out?”

“I never did something like this. I don’t know what you’re saying”, Yoongi lies.

“Well, I got inspired by that”, Jungkook snickers, “I think it went really well.”

“Tch, punk”, Yoongi murmurs, rolling over so he was resting on his back. He folds his hands on his tummy, eyes glued to the ceiling.

“No, but aren’t you glad that you guys are talking again?” Jungkook insists, snuggling closer to Yoongi until his face was hidden in the crook of his neck.

“I am”, you say, touching Yoongi’s temple just to tug a strand of hair behind his ear.

Yoongi shifts his eyes to you, reaching up to trace your cheek as softly as possible.

“Me too”, he breathes, running his thumb over your lips. He pulls back, touching his own lips while his eyes soften in fondness.

“Oh Yoongi”, you say, shimmying closer and snuggling into him. You kiss his lips. Hesitantly and carefully. Just once and then you already pull back, gazing into his eyes.

“Mhm”, he lets out, lowering his eyes shyly. He rolls to his side so his back was facing you. He wiggles into a comfortable position, sticking his butt out this way. Then he looks over his shoulder, frowning at you shyly.

You understand instantly, closing the distance between you and him. He lifts his head so you could sneak your arm under it and then presses back into you. With a harsh tug on your arm, he makes you fall against him. Your face naturally nuzzles into his neck.

“Is that comfy, my love?” you whisper, holding his hand tightly.

“Kiss my neck.”

“Okay, okay”, you say and begin placing tender kisses on his skin. “like this?”

“Ye, is nice”, he murmurs and cuddles closer.

“Then I’ll keep doing that”, you say, whispering your next words, “lean on me, my love. I'm right here and I won’t let go.”

Yoongi huffs out air loudly before those huffs of air turn into quiet purrs and soon you can hear Jungkook match his frequency.

You sneak a glance past Yoongi’s head at Jungkook. He has his eyes closed, hand having come to a standstill on Yoongi’s lower waist. Only his fingers trying to sneak under his shirt lets you know that he wasn’t completely lost in sleep yet.

You hide your face back in Yoongi’s neck, closing your eyes.

Tonight won’t be a terrible night. There may still be a lot to fix and issues to take care of, but at least for tonight you have Yoongi to hold and that is enough.

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