#its less overwhelming when the series is over

[intomybubble]

I'm just about finished with My Little Inferno, and the ML (the LI) is so pathetic omfg. I feel like I'm reading Dame na Watashi ni Koishite Kudsai due to the main leads both being fucking losers (the FL in Dame na is in a dead end relationship and is practically a sugar mommy who ends up in debt to support her BF which almost leads her to being sold into prostitution. Her attitude isn't great either). Like if I could get a hot guy to fall head over heels in love with me even after he witnesses me puking, pissing, and crying myself out of fear and getting hassled by old bullies (if only I were a BL protag bc he'd think I'm cute), I would think something is wrong with him and that I probably made it in life. The ML isn't particularly... useful. The only thing he has going for him is being cute and short, and being needy towards the LI. The LI makes for a good house husband.

Based on the cover art for the manga, I would've thought it was really dark (like Killing Stalking or Blind play) but its mostly just about cyber crime and embezzlement and sorta the yakuza (mostly mentioned, briefly seen). To an extent, this series sorta reminded me of Semantic Error, but only because of the computer stuff though. Otherwise, I sorta like the slice of life aspects. I think the crime stuff is sorta underbaked. I wish there was more risk or something to make things tense bc the only thing was ML's mom getting get info stolen and getting $300k in debt.

[whytheylosttheirminds]

Don't Call Me Kid - Chapter 6 (part one)

(Rafe Cameron x Reader series, 5.3k words)

series summary: You'd had a crush on Rafe Cameron since you were six years old, but he friend zoned you at every turn. Once shy and insecure, you found new confidence and self-love after high school. When your high school friends go on a reunion beach trip, Rafe finally sees what he lost, but he isn't going to give you up without a fight.

tropes: unrequited crush, glow up, she fell first/he fell harder

series content: some angst, eventual fluff, slow burn, tomfoolery and shenanigans, drinking, fem!reader has occasional insecurity and body image issues

⇢ series masterlist

additional chapter cw! this chapter contains brief mentions of blood and minor injuries

It was like no matter how hard he tried, he just couldn’t stop hurting you.

You were only under for a second, maybe less, your lifejacket doing its job, and yet somehow he couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d let you drown. 

There wasn’t much logic to it. It wasn’t as though he had emptied the jet ski of all its gas, or that he somehow had control over the weather. 

Technically, none of this was his fault, yet he felt the guilt burn in his chest like he’d swallowed hot coals.

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The second your head emerged, you let out a scream, the salt water in your fresh cut sending hot sparks of pain up your leg.

“Fuck, ow!” You cried, reaching for the jet ski with shaky hands, in so much pain you couldn’t even find it.

“Ohhh baby, are you okay?” Rafe grabbed your hand, squeezing tight as he pulled you towards him in the water, his other arm tethering you both to the jet ski.

“I think I’m bleeding,” you clung to his shoulder, your fingers digging in probably too tight, but the pain was so overwhelming you needed to put it somewhere. He didn’t mind, desperate to take it away however he could.

“Here climb up,” he said, grabbing your waist and boosting you. “The water can’t be helping.”

“Shit,” you both said in unison when you finally got onto the jet ski and revealed the cut on your calf, wider than you thought and bleeding angrily.

“Just hold on, I got you,” he assured, beginning to kick rapidly to start moving the jet ski toward the shore. 

You were scared the whole time, never once taking your eyes off of him. Asking him over and over again if he was okay until you were sure he was sick of it. But not once was there even a hint of agitation in his voice as he promised you he was fine, that you were almost there, that everything was gonna be okay.

His words didn’t do much to convince you, your face flooding with worry when you noticed his breaths getting more strained.

“I’m okay,” he swore to you, stopping for a moment to catch his breath. “We’re almost there.”

It was starting to rain and the thunder was growing louder, there was no argument to be made that you could keep floating safely in the ocean. You resigned to let him keep going, but your eyes never left him, as if it was your appreciation keeping him afloat instead of his lifejacket.

“Thank you,” you said for the fifteenth time.

He smiled, his eyes crinkling with the motion, the expression entirely too joyful for the grim situation you found yourselves in.

“What?” You scoffed, poking his hand with your toe playfully.

“You’re cute when you’re worried,” he explained.

The drizzling rain was chilly, but your body was on fire. You opened your mouth to reply, despite the utter lack of words in your mind, but the sight of your sister appearing in the distance pulled your attention away.

The group that gathered at the dock’s edge was not the happy-go-lucky bunch of friends you’d arrived with a few hours ago.

The dock was only a few yards away now, you were close enough to see Carter slumped on the ground, Topper’s arms around her, pulling her into a comforting hug. As Rafe swam you closer, it became more apparent that she was crying. 

“There she is!” Tom shouted, motioning to you.

Carter stood quickly, nearly knocking Topper over, waving her arms in the air frantically like she was trying to land a plane. You waved back, heart aching at the sight of her red, puffy eyes. 

“We’re okay!” You yelled through the rain, trying to ease her worry as the jet ski approached. 

You looked down at Rafe who could hear the commotion but not see it.

“We’re almost there, they’re all waiting for us,” you filled him in.

As the front of the jet ski neared the group, Topper leaned over the side of the dock to pull you the rest of the way in. 

“Ohmygod, ohmygod, where have you been, are you crazy?!” Carter paced the dock, a wild look in her eyes as she scolded you.

“I’m fine!” You assured her. “We just ran out of gas.”

“We?” She questioned, hands on her hips.

Once Topper had secured the jet ski to the dock, Rafe swam around to the side, revealing himself to the group.

“What the hell? Where’s Kelce?” Carter questioned.

You knew she must really be upset. When she went into worried-mom-mode, her already limited inclination for politeness went completely out the window.

“Can someone help him up please?” You corrected her. “And get him a blanket or something?”

“I’ve got a couple in my trunk!” Topper said, before running to the marina parking lot.

“I’m fine,” Rafe calmed you with a soft smile as he lifted himself onto the back of the jet ski.

Before he could climb onto the dock, fully planning to help you up next, Tom reached out his hand to you.

“Are you okay?” Tom asked. You could feel Rafe’s posture stiffen next to you.

“I’m fine, thank you.” You accepted his hand, only due to the fact that you actually did need help with the big step off the jet ski.

The moment your feet were steady on the dock, you pulled your hand from his and turned back to make sure Rafe made it onto solid ground. When he did, you made your way to Carter’s side, pulling her into a hug.

“I thought something happened…” she mumbled into your shoulder.

“I’m okay,” you soothed her. “Rafe saved me.”

She pulled back from you, sniffling as she eyed him over your shoulder.

“Thank you,” she told him quietly.

“I didn’t do a great job,” he said shakily, looking down at your leg. “You’re still bleeding.”

“You’re bleeding?!” Carter turned you around, inspecting you for injury.

You laughed as she spun you frantically, “it’s just a little cut on my leg.”

She leaned down to inspect it further, eyebrows knit with concern. “I told Topper we should’ve called 911.”

You placed both hands on her shoulders, “Car, I’m fine. It’s just a scrape, it’ll be gone by tomorrow. I’m sorry we scared you, though.”

“You did,” she pouted.

Topper came running back, huffing from his hurry. 

“I could only find one,” he extended the blanket in his hands to Rafe, who obviously needed it more.

Rafe took the blanket from him and opened it up quickly, but instead of dragging it over his own shoulders, he wrapped it around you.

“You should take it,” you tried to stop him.

“Nah,” he waved you off, running his hands up and down your arms to warm you up. “We need to get you dry before Carter calls the Coast Guard.”

For a full ten seconds, your group stood in the rain, everyone’s eyes on someone else, the tension in the air telling an entire story to some invisible audience.

Carter looked at you, concern wrinkling her forehead as she wondered what really happened after she went to bed last night. 

Topper looked at Carter, wondering if her investment in your love life meant she’d forgotten all about the intimate hug they’d shared on the dock waiting for you to return.

Tom looked at Rafe, wondering if it was this joker’s fault you’d rejected him the night before and feeling the hot flame of competition ignite in his chest.

Sabrina looked at Tom, wondering when boys had started looking at you like that and how to get him to look at her instead.

Rafe looked down at you, and you looked up at him, both wondering if the other was thinking the same thing: there’s so much more to say.

“Ahem,” the jet ski owner cleared his throat, pulling you all from your thoughts. “Need the keys back if you don’t mind.”

Carter handed him the first two keys, and Rafe fumbled in his pocket for yours.

“You should really be checking the gas tank before you just send people out there,” Rafe snapped at him, tossing him the key. “You sent her out with an empty tank, she could’ve been seriously screwed, man. No way to run a business.”

“Maybe you should teach your girl how to drive so she doesn’t drain the tank,” the guy snapped back. “Not my fault she’s a ditz.”

Rafe stepped toward him in one long stride, chest puffed out and tension brewing in his flexed jaw that ran all the way down his neck.

“The fuck did you just say?” Rafe grabbed him by his collar, pulling the guy up towards him as he glared at him. 

You looked helplessly to Topper, who hurried to pull Rafe’s hand off the guy’s shirt. Topper was an expert at intervening before Rafe did things he couldn’t undo, and you were grateful he was here. Still, there was a small part of you that selfishly wanted to know what he’d do next, how far he’d go to defend your honor.

“Okay, okay,” Topper said. “Let’s just go, bro. It’s over.”

Rafe fought against Topper’s pull for a moment, staring daggers at the jet ski guy, who was chuckling smugly. When the guy’s eyes darted to you, he pulled his arm from Topper’s grip and made to move towards him again.

“Rafe,” you said softly.

His head turned to you, and the tension in his shoulders loosened. You shook your head ever so slightly, eyes urging him to back down. He nodded once and his hands, which had been balled into fists, flexed open as he let his anger go.

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As soon as you made it back to the house, you peeled your wet bathing suit off and climbed in the shower, eager to get your weary body into the warm water and let the sea wash down the drain. Carter had announced plans on the car ride back from the marina to go out to some clubs this evening, and you were far from dance floor ready.

For just a moment, the hot water felt incredible, until it made its way to your cut. You yelped and stepped out of the hot stream quickly. 

Typically, you would’ve thought responsibly enough to cover the cut before getting in the shower, but your mind was too foggy with thoughts of Rafe. You pulled on some clothes and padded down the hall to Carter’s room.

The knock on the door sparked a flurry of commotion behind it. Hushed voices echoed from under the door frame.

“Just a second!” Carter shouted to you, voice muffled.

“Oof!” A deeper voice said, the sound of a heavy body hitting the floor.

Your lips twisted in a knowing smile. You didn’t need the door to swing open to know who you were hearing in the room. Carter and Topper were clearly tangled up in something before you interrupted.

Confirming your suspicion, the door swung open and Topper stood in front of you, his shirt on backwards from being pulled on in a hurry.

“Do I have the wrong room?” You smirked.

“I was just, uh, helping Carter with something,” he fumbled to explain.

“Oh? What were you helping her with?” 

“Her bed is, uh, broken.” 

You laughed, standing on your tiptoes to call over his shoulder and into the room, “just wanted to see if you have any Band-Aids?” 

“No,” she responded from somewhere under the mess of blankets on her bed. “But I can come help you find some.”

“Oh no,” you said. “You stay here and work on that…broken bed.”

Topper gave you a thankful smile and you winked at him.

“Make good choices!” You called, turning from the door.

“Too late!” Carter sang back.

You checked a few of the other bathrooms before wandering to the kitchen. One hand on the counter, and the other reaching as high as it could, you tried to boost yourself up. The flex of your calf as you jumped stretched the skin around your cut, making you wince. 

“Fuck,” you grumbled to yourself. “Let’s get jet skis they said, it’ll be fun they said…”

You tried to jump again, reaching for the high cabinet, the only one in the kitchen you hadn’t checked yet. You could’ve sworn you’d seen a first aid kit around here somewhere. You jumped again, the effort still fruitless.

“Need some help?”

You turned fast, startled by the revelation that you weren’t actually alone.

Rafe was standing at the bottom of the stairs, leaning on the banister with his arms crossed. His hair was damp, clearly just out of the shower himself. You weren’t looking at his hair, though.

He was covered only by a pair of checkered boxers and the towel flung carelessly over his shoulder. His torso was long and rigid, more defined than you had first noticed on the beach the other day. The hard ridges of his abs cast shadows on the plane of his stomach, your eyes danced over them, down to the deep V that disappeared below his waistband.

“What are you looking for?” His words were casual, as if he didn’t notice you staring, but the crooked grin etched on his face told a different story.

“Band-Aids,” you told him, your voice so feeble it did nothing but further reveal your captivation with the sight of him.

The smirk and all its playfulness fell from his face as his eyes filled with concern. 

“Are you still bleeding?” 

“No, I just need to cover it so I can shower. I’m thinking I should probably get the seaweed out of my hair if we’re going out.”

“Y’know if you don’t want to go, we don’t have to. I’d stay back with you,” he offered.

Your eyes fell from his, shuffling your feet uncomfortably, he stumbled over his words to reassure you, “we don’t have to, like, hang out. Just if you’re tired and you’d rather stay in and read or something that’s cool. I would stay down here.”

“You don’t want to hang out with me?” You raised your eyebrows in mock offense.

You were messing with him now, you probably shouldn’t be, but watching him run circles around himself to say the right thing was too fun.

“That’s not what I- I just,” he stuttered. “Here, can you just let me help you?”

He was across the room quick, your bodies close enough to touch for the first time since the dock. He smelled like soap, and something else undefinable and sweetly nostalgic. He reached up, his long frame barely needing to stretch to reach the cabinet above you.

“Doesn’t look like there’s any in here,” he informed you, tall enough to see what you couldn’t. 

“You sure?” You didn’t know why you were questioning him, your flustered state made you defensive.

“You’re welcome to keep jumping to try and see for yourself,” he stepped back to give you space to try again. “You were so close.”

“Don’t be mean,” you smiled.

“I’m serious! It was very cute,” he dropped casually.

Your eyes narrowed as you looked back at him. Despite all his genuine actions today, you couldn’t help but feel suspicious of his intentions.

”What?” He questioned, sensing your hesitancy. 

“That’s the second time you’ve called me that today,” you pointed out, “It’s just kinda weird hearing you say it.”

“I mean it’s not like I’ve never called you cute before,” he reasoned.

“You haven’t,” you said definitively.

“I’m sure-“

“You haven’t. I would remember, believe me.”

You crossed your arms, hands cradling your elbows, feeling like a raw nerve. Rafe took a cautious step toward you, ducking his head slightly to draw your eyes to his, making sure you were listening when he said,

“Just because I didn’t say it doesn’t mean I didn’t think it.”

You instinctually stepped back, his words a little too close to a confession for your comfort. When you pulled away, the back of your leg hit the kitchen counter, making you flinch at the pain of your cut rubbing against the wood.

“I have some waterproof band aids in my room,” he mumbled, his low voice making you wonder for just a second if he really did have them or if this was just a sly way to get you to his room. Sensing your doubt, he doubled down with, “no, honest, I brought a whole first aid kit.”

Convinced, you followed him down the stairs to his basement bedroom. His bed was still pulled away from the wall, but it had seemingly dried. His belongings were strewn about, his book bag unzipped and overflowing with books and papers. You clocked the curious sight, but stayed silent, preoccupied by your sudden aloneness and his half-naked body.

Rafe dug through his suitcase for a moment until, sure enough, he pulled out a bright orange case with a little red cross on the front. You couldn’t help your smile.

“In your boy scout era?” You teased him.

“I’ve been on enough trips with Topper and Kelce to know you should always be prepared for the worst,” he chuckled.

“Ah, little did you know, I was gonna be the worst you needed to prepare for.”

“You? No, you’re the best part of this trip.”

Your throat tightened.

“Oh, really? It’s not your dungeon bedroom?” You pivoted.

“Yeah, I should probably get used to that mildew smell,” Rafe scoffed. “Gonna be living in my parents basement if I don’t pass this summer class.”

He motioned to his backpack, the mystery finally solved. He’d been doing school work down here. Summer classes, surely the answer to his not-graduating problem.

“What are you taking?” You inquired.

“Statistics. I need one more math credit and I just can’t…” he shook his head with self-loathing. “I mean, you know better than anyone. I’ve never been good at math.”

“I don’t think your problem was so much that you weren’t good,” you reasoned. “I think it was more about not applying yourself.”

“Well I’m applying myself now and I still feel like the textbook’s written in another language, so what does that mean?”

“Maybe that you just need some help,” you shrugged.

You could tell he was struggling with himself, and you were overcome with the desire to ease his worry. There are worse things a man can be than bad at math. But with Rafe, things were always all-or-nothing. One flaw meant the whole batch must be bad. 

You felt the urge to jump into tutor-mode and do the hard work for him, but you knew once you crossed that bridge into such familiar territory, there’d be no going back.

Rafe didn’t seem to share your concerns about repeating the past.

“Help from you?”

The way he leaned in when he said it would be almost imperceptible to anyone else, but you’d studied him long enough to notice even the slightest movement. You could feel the air between you tighten, like a rubber band stretching as far as it could go. You broke eye contact before it had the chance to snap.

“Or, like a tutor?” You suggested, reaching for the first aid kit in his hands. “Do they have those at Chapel Hill?”

“They do,” he stepped closer anyway, hand brushing yours as he handed it to you. “But I’d rather have you.”

You cleared your throat, ignoring his attempt to flirt. You decided not to go down this road with him, afraid it would lead to another dead end. 

He watched you dig through the kit for an appropriately sized Band-Aid, fighting the urge to ask if he’d said something wrong. Before he could, you leaned down and attempted to line up the adhesive with your cut, struggling to twist and reach the back of your leg.

“Here, let me.”

Fingers brushing yours, he took the Band-Aid and kneeled down in front of you, one leg under him, one propped up. His hand found your ankle and he guided your leg up so your foot rested on his knee. 

Clouds of foggy attraction swirled in your eyes as you looked down at him. He poked his tongue out of the corner of his mouth as he focused on unwrapping the Band-Aid. You zeroed in on his fingers, long and slender, leading to vein rippled hands that worked diligently to ease your pain. It was enough to knock someone over, but you weren’t going anywhere with his strong thigh holding you up. 

“Since when are you such a gentleman?” You quipped, your decision not to flirt with him thrown out the window at the sight of him on his knees in front of you.

He smiled that satisfied, crooked grin as he gently placed the Band-Aid over your healing cut, “I’m trying.”

He brushed over the edge of the Band-Aid, smoothing it into place with a firm swipe of his thumb. You dreaded the moment he would stand again. As if he could read your mind, he delayed it, his hand lingering on your calf. 

Completely breathless, you watched him consider his next move. For a moment, you thought he was going to let his hand continue to run up your leg, but he stopped himself, bringing it back to your ankle and returning your foot to the ground.

When he stood and looked down at you, he was surprised by the pout of your lips.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you shrugged. “You just looked so cute down there.”

Rafe rolled his eyes playfully.

“Thought you didn’t like that word.”

“I don’t remember saying that,” you countered.

“You just don’t like it when I call you cute, then?” 

There it was again, evidence of his genuine desire to understand you. The rubber band tightened again, but this time, it was in your stomach, his sincerity drawing you to him helplessly.

“There’s just so many better things you could call me,” you flirted.

“Yeah?” Excitement coursed through you at his breathy tone. “Like what?”

“My name would be a good start.”

Voice still low, so deep you could feel it more than hear it, he uttered your name. It rolled off his tongue, smooth like honey dripping from his parted lips. The syllables came out with the faintest breath, brushing over your face as the sound swept over you.

Lip tucked between your teeth, you looked at his mouth, as though you could will more soothing sounds to fall from it. As you stared, his lips got closer to you, close enough to touch yours-

“Yo Rafe!”

The sound of Topper’s voice from the top of the stairs startled you so much, you knocked into his bedside table.

“What?” Rafe barked in the direction of Topper’s voice, his harsh, irritated tone in such stark contrast with the sweet way he’d just spoken to you.

“Just letting you know we’re leaving in like an hour,” Topper said.

“Okay?” Rafe snipped.

Topper grumbled something along the lines of “so fucking testy today” as he closed the door, none the wiser to your presence in the basement.

Rafe turned to you, eyes searching your face for a sign he could recover the moment that was so abruptly interrupted. You didn’t meet his eyes. A nervous, pink blush kissed the tips of your cheeks and washed down your chest. The thought of Topper seeing what you were almost doing brought you crashing back to reality. Twice today you had almost let him kiss you, the steel backbone you’d come into this trip with feeling more like glass with every second you spent with him.

“I should probably go start getting ready then,” you said, making your way toward the stairs.

“Right, yeah,” he agreed, defeated.

“Thanks for the Band-Aid.”

“Anytime,” he said. “Anything.”

He stood at the bottom of the stairs as you climbed them. When you reached the door, you opened it just a crack, peeking out of it with paranoid eyes, making sure no one saw you sneak out of his room.

Regret hit him like a tidal wave. He couldn’t even be mad that you were so desperate not to be seen in close quarters with him, because it was exactly the look he’d have on his face when he used to climb out of your car in the school parking lot.

This must be how you felt. He wished for a time machine so he could knock out his teenage self the way he almost knocked out the guy on the dock today. Anyone who made you feel as shitty as he did right now deserved it.

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Finally able to take a painless shower, you took your time under the hot stream of water. Carter sat on the bathroom floor, knees drawn to her chest as you recapped the crazy day.

“I literally thought you might be dead,” she explained.

“How long were we even gone? Half an hour?” You laughed lovingly at her dramatics.

“Are you serious?” 

“What, was it more?” You thought over the time you’d spent with Rafe on the water, in your mind it had flown by fast. Too fast. 

“We got back to the dock a full two hours before you showed up on your Rafe-drawn carriage,” she informed you.

You laughed heartily at the image, your cheeks tinting pink, though you told yourself the flush was just from the hot water.

“What did you guys do out there for two hours anyway?” She asked, not a fan of how silent you’d gone at the mention of Rafe’s name. 

“We just talked,” you said. 

It wasn’t a lie, but it felt like an incomplete truth.

“About?” She pried.

“I don’t know,” you shrugged, “just, like, life and stuff.”

She snorted skeptically.

“What?”

“I just can’t picture Rafe Cameron having any kind of deep thoughts about life is all,” she explained.

“Well, he’s different now, I guess,” you said feebly.

“Is he though?”

That silenced you. She had a fair point, you had only been talking to Rafe again for a few days, and most of that time was spent with him asking questions about you. You didn’t know him at all really, at least not as well as you used to, not enough to make judgment calls on his character.

Yet there was this instinct that had never really gone away. An invisible tether that connected you to him in a way you’d never experienced with anyone else. He was your sixth sense, you just knew him. You always had.

“I’m gonna go grab my makeup bag,” Carter exited the bathroom, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

A few moments later, she reentered the room. You felt the words deep in your chest, and even though you knew she may not like them, you needed to let them out.

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Rafe meandered upstairs, looking for Topper’s room so he could borrow a shirt. He hadn’t really packed any going out outfits, picturing himself planted on the beach the whole week. The day he packed felt like a lifetime ago, he had no idea the rollercoaster this trip would turn into. 

Down the hall, the bathroom door was open a crack, steam pouring from it as someone showered. Surely, whoever was in there didn’t intend to leave it open. He made his way towards the door to close it, but stopped short when he heard your familiar voice coming from the shower. He knew he should close the door and walk away, but your words glued him in place.

“I have to be honest with you,” you said. “I know I should hate him, but I don’t. I don’t think I’ll ever hate him.”

Rafe’s heart raced, an optimistic smile spreading across his face. He prayed that he was the ‘him’ you were referring to.

“The sad thing is, if he asked me to, I’d still give him anything he wanted,” you chuckled, surprised by your own words. “If he wanted me, I think I’d be with him.”

He’d never do it, but he seriously considered barging right into your shower and telling you “I want you, you have no idea how badly I want you.” 

But the fantasy was cut short.

“I think I’d hate myself the whole time, though,” you confessed quietly.

At that, he actually did close the door, heart sinking, wishing he could dissolve into the floor.

His whole life, people found it hard to love him. They may not say it to his face, but he picked up on more than people thought. He exhausted his family, his irresponsibility and impulsivity were a pain to them since he was a kid. He disappointed his father, he knew he wasn’t the heir to the Cameron throne Ward had hoped for. And he’d fumbled you completely, the best friend he ever had. 

Since then, everything he did was out of self-protection. He ghosted girls at school before they got the chance to reject him, he didn’t reply to texts from friends for fear of being ignored first. He picked fights and pushed people away, running from rejection like a monster in the dark.

But this week, for just a moment, he thought maybe he could finally stop running. He thought maybe he’d finally found something that was worth the risk. He had never felt so safe, so seen, as he did today when you were talking to him. 

Then your words shook him from his delusions. He could handle his family’s disappointment and his friends’ exasperation. But your resentment? Knowing that being with him made you hate yourself? He just could not afford it. He wouldn’t survive it.

Closing the bathroom door had a finality to it, the click of the handle a sign of a decision made. He would stop pursuing you. He’d get through this trip, graduate school, and finally move on. If not for his sake, for yours. He was bad for you. You knew it, Carter knew it, he knew it. For your sake and his, he decided to let you go.

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The Ubers arrived around nine. The boys were showered, dressed, and ready by 8:30, chilling on the couch watching baseball and drinking their pregame beers. Topper kept an eye on his phone, watching the little cars get closer to the house.

“Ride’s almost here and they’re really not ready,” Topper sighed.

“Did you really expect anything else?” Kelce threw back another beer.

“Wanna take it easy tonight, man?” Rafe recommended, no one needed a reminder of the damage Hurricane Kelce had caused the last time he was shitfaced.

“No, actually, I don’t,” Kelce laughed.

Rafe reached across the couch, Topper ducking out of the way of his swift arm as he snatched the beer from Kelce’s hand.

“I’m getting you some water,” Rafe said. “I’m not babysitting your drunk ass all night.”

Rafe stood over the kitchen sink, filling a glass for Kelce. The water rose over the cup’s edge and overflowed onto his hands, but he didn’t even notice. He was lost in thought, thinking about your cry after falling off the jet ski, your lip pulled between your teeth when he almost kissed you, your words in the shower…

“Thirsty?” He heard you say behind him. 

He turned to look at you, nearly dropping the glass.

Rafe was resolved. He couldn’t risk the sting of your rejection, and he couldn’t afford the price of your resentment. There would be no more chasing you, no moves made, no plays attempted. It was settled, he was done.

Then he saw you in that fucking dress. 

(Chapter 6: part two)

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a/n: oops another two part chapter cause the word count got away from me againnnn :) will try my best to post pt 2 this weekend!

and if I wrote a bonus blurb about what happened in Carter’s bedroom what then? A smutty little Carrot Top side quest? How would we feel about that?

please note, the taglist for this series is currently closed. For updates, follow @whytheylosttheirminds-works and turn on notifs 💕

[ateliersss]

Downtime and a Bath

Pairing: Yautja x Fem!Reader Summary: Your mate returns from a hunt, in desperate need of a bath. Cross-posted on AO3: here Warnings: English isn't my first language Word Count: 1.823 Before the Blooming Family series

⇨ I'm not exactly happy with it, nor am I sure if it's even worth publishing, but anyways, here it is. I had an idea three hours ago and wrote the thing in two, therefore the poor quality. But hey, at least it's out of my head.

⇨ Also. thank you to each and everyone of you for letting me reach a 1.000 followers a few weeks ago!

It was nighttime.

Lounging on your nest, you tilted your head back and looked out of the window behind you. Upside down, the twin moons, twinkling stars, and other celestial bodies you couldn’t name were occupying the bottom of your view while the wildlife with its mountains and forests extended across the top of your eyesight.

You sighed at the inky-black sky. Mi’ytiar had told you hours ago his hunting trip would end today and you had hoped it would be at a time you were awake. But according to the moons, the night was already half over and you knew you would soon pass out from exhaustion.

Maybe you could rest your eyes for a little bit. There was no problem with that, right? You were already lying in such a comfortable position — the cushions underneath you supporting your body just right, the blanket keeping it neither too warm nor too cold, the pillows behind your head cradling it perfectly. You could just close your eyes and listen to the crackling of the fire around your nest. No shame in that.

You were just dozing off, losing the inner battle against the overwhelming fatigue, when you heard a dull thud that was muffled by the closed door that led to the main area of your home.

“Wha…” You mumbled and pushed yourself up with your eyes still half-closed.

Seconds later, the door slid open and revealed the imposing sight of your mate.

So he was finally home. It made you breathe out a happy sigh and a drowsy smile etched itself onto your lips. You felt instantly at ease at having your mate back home and by your side. Not that you ever felt in danger being without him on the grounds of his clan, but you could never know who or what could force its way into your home when Mi’ytiar was gone. However, you doubted that they could make it far to you. Not only did your mate have his loyal warriors who had their eyes on you when he wasn’t able to himself, but the three Hell Hounds outside would rip anyone with bad intentions apart.

You rubbed your eyes until Mi’ytiar became less blurry and you let them wander over his figure, noting the state he was in. He was covered in dirt, grime, and what you hoped wasn’t his blood. As much as off-putting his appearance was, you were pleased to see that he complied with your wish to keep whatever corpse he had kept as a trophy away from your bedroom and instead leave it on the table in the main room.

You were just about to open your mouth when you flinched back at the intensity with which he was stalking towards you, embodying every aspect of his predatory nature, eyeing you like his next prey.

“No, Mi’ytiar. Don’t you dare!” You protested when it became obvious he was about to climb on your nest, dirtying it with whatever disgusting fluids his body was covered in.

But he didn’t listen, his mind hazy with hunger and overcome by the lasting high of his latest kills. Bad Bloods were a nice challenge and he was thrilled when he discovered that three of them were hunting on a neighboring planet. Their heads were now lying on the sleek black surface of the table outside.

You yelped when his bone-crushing weight settled on top of you, successfully covering your whole body with his, and his face buried itself in the crook of your neck. You could hear and feel the greedy intake of your scent through his nose. His tongue licked over every inch of your skin nearby as his hands roamed your body, his claws already ripping on the fabric of your nightwear.

You would have spread your legs for him, would have helped him take off your clothing, offering every part of your body for him to take, to devour, if the fact that he was just ruining the materials you had used for your nest wasn’t the only thing on your mind right down. As well as the disgusting stench that overwhelmed your nostrils and made you gag.

You weren’t the most flexible, definitely not now, but you still managed to pull up your knee and push him away from you by placing your foot in the middle of his chest. You knew you wouldn’t have succeeded if not for a subconscious part of his mind was still able to obey you even though his logical thinking was clouded with primal need.

Mi’ytiar, though very reluctantly, backed down and sat back on his haunches. His claws dug into his thighs and his chest was heaving with heavy breaths, showing how much strength it required for him to hold himself back.

“I’m sorry, my love, but you reek.” You grumbled and eyed him in disdain.

He only growled back.

“Why don’t we take a bath, hm?” You suggested with a head tilt to the door to your right which led to what you would call a bathroom by human standards.

Sliding sideways off the nest, you walked backward, a smirk on your face and your eyes fixed on him as your fingers fiddled with the knot of your robe, a souvenir you had acquired from one of your trips to Earth.

“Are you coming, tanhì?” You asked him, placing one foot behind the other.

The swishing of the door and the different feeling of the floor covering signaled you had entered the bathroom. The first time you had been inside it when Mi’ytiar had shown you your new home, it reminded you of a cave. Despite the usual futuristic and modern Yautja aesthetic, this room had a natural feeling. It wasn’t unlike the bathroom of the apartment you had lived in with your family decades ago. The necessities had been there. Except for a bathtub. Yautja didn’t necessarily bathe. They swam, yes, but bathe?

You didn’t exactly need a bathtub as you hadn’t used the one you had back then, but after a tiring day, it had been nice to relax in the hot water. Someday, you had voiced your displeasure to Mi’ytiar who had scooped you up and taken you to the hot springs not far from the clan grounds but still inside his territory. And although the sight of it was breathtaking — steam rising from the ponds of water arranged like stair steps so the water could run down from one spring to the next like a waterfall — and the surrounding nature was quite romantic, you weren’t exactly comfortable stripping naked where whatever lurking creature could creep up on you.

You didn’t want to complain, of course, and you would eventually adapt to the fact that you had to forego certain human comforts. That didn’t mean you didn’t share how humans lived compared to Yautja with him whenever a difference in their everyday life occurred, be it the bed, clothes, or the bathtub.

Just as you were getting used to bathing in the hot springs, hidden in the rock crevice, you stumbled over the beginnings of what would soon look like a pool when you walked into the bathroom to relieve yourself. It was nestled into the large niche — square, three meters by three meters — of the room opposite the door where the shower-like setup used to be. When you had asked him what this was about, he had only said “Home.” and left it by that.

Standing in front of said pool, you turned your head to look over your shoulder and watched as the door closed behind Mi’ytiar who had just entered the bathroom. You let the robe slide down your shoulders and to the crook of your arms before letting it pool at your feet. When you turned to face him, you revealed the side profile of your body to his eyes, the swell of your breasts, and the small bump your belly was sporting.

When you thought back to your profession on Earth, you looked like any expectant mother in the late stage of her first trimester. Your baby bump wasn’t that big yet, but you still had to give up on certain items of clothing because they already wouldn’t fit you anymore.

When your belly started to grow, you suddenly remembered that your period should have started roughly two weeks ago. The second your brain had fully comprehended that your mate could have possibly impregnated you, that with the highest probability you carried the product of your mutual love under your heart and that you would soon become a mother, you didn’t waste a second to track him down and tell him the big news.

He hadn’t exactly reacted the way you had hoped. Instead of a positive or negative reaction, instead of pressing his forehead to yours while purring or growling at you to get rid of it, he had just stared. He stood frozen in front of you and fixed your hands which cupped the barely noticeable swell of your stomach.

You had just gained a little bit of weight, he told himself. She couldn’t be pregnant, she couldn’t carry my pup.

How could you, a human, be able to achieve something where others had failed?

He needed answers, so he hastily but carefully picked you up and took you to Cahrein who only confirmed your suspicion. You were indeed pregnant.

Only after a quick talk with the tribal healer, something about “not possible” and “how”, he finally showed you how he really felt — overjoyed. And how could he not? Now that you were carrying his pup, you were connected to your mate in every possible way.

“Are you coming?” You asked him again, one foot dipped into the warm water.

Mi’ytiar didn’t waste any more time getting rid of his armor, not caring about any damage he may cause, as he ripped every piece of it off his body, letting it fall to the ground as he walked to the pool. When he stepped into it, your body was already fully immersed and you swam to where you kept the nourishing oils, sweet-smelling soap, and the washcloth. With everything you needed in hand, you returned to where Mi’ytiar had settled on the bench of the pool. You freed your hands by placing everything on the edge so you could lift yourself up on his lap. Mi’ytiar immediately pulled you closer, one hand wrapped around your thigh, the other embracing your bump.

You didn’t talk while you cleaned him up. You stayed quiet, not feeling the necessity to talk, while he relished in your pampering, only voicing how much he enjoyed it with purrs. And when you were done, you snuggled up to him, cheek pressed against his chest and arms loosely wrapped around him. Mi’ytiar later had to carry you out of the pool, dry you off, and bring you to bed, your sleeping form pressed against his body.

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[drewizz]

THIRD TIME - 01. exordium

pairing ꕀ rafe cameron x reader

WARNINGS. mentions of sex & alcohol consumption + start of slowburn starts now.

WC. 1.3K

TAGLIST. open! comment or send in an ask

series masterlist. next

exordium. (noun) the beginning of anything.

The bass wasn’t just loud, it was practically raging. The smell of cheap tasting alcohol and sex was thickening inside the entire house. You had no clue to why you were even here at the party, mingling alone in the corner wrinkling your nose in distaste – busy avoiding the drunk sods who were looking for nothing but a quick fuck.

The house itself didn’t help. Built in a way that it seemed to be making you feel so small and invisible, decorated with furniture that was screaming for attention. The entire house was littered with people. All the rooms were full, the basement, in the pool, on the balcony, there was little to no space anywhere. 

Unfortunately, you would be stuck here for a while.

You tugged at the strap of your dress again, the fabric just about physically digging into your shoulders. Your best friend had convinced you to wear it, the fabric clinging on to your body for dear life, dipped low enough to make you self-conscious every time someone looked your way. “You’ll thank me later,” your friend said, grinning as she handed it over. 

You sure thanked her. At this point, compared to all the people walking around in the tiniest clothing possible, you felt overdressed. Everything around you and on you felt so overstimulating, constantly jabbing at your body.

The drink in your hand wasn’t helping. It was some awful mix of cheap vodka and cranberry juice, and it tasted like absolute vomit. But at least it gave you something to hold onto, a prop that made you feel less exposed.

Your friend had vanished hours ago, swept away by a guy with a pearly white grin and a trust fund. “Five minute tops,” is what she promised to come back in. But that had been at least an hour ago, maybe two.

You sighed, leaning against the wall and looking around the room. Everywhere you looked there were groups of people laughing, dancing, freakishly grinding on the couches like they owned the place. 

You weren't sure why you had agreed to come. Maybe it was curiosity. Maybe it was boredom. But at this point, all you felt like was suffocation.

You ducked into the kitchen, desperate for a moment of quiet. It was just as luxurious as the rest of the house – sleek counters with a gigantic beverage cooler so big it fit rows of liquor bottles lined up.

Your eyes landed on a bottle of whiskey near the edge of the counter. It looked expensive, the one that looked like it could cost a lifetime. You weren't a whiskey drinker, but compared to the questionable cocktail and watered-down beer in the other room, it seemed like the better option.

You poured yourself a small splash, wincing as the liquid burned its way down your throat. It was smoother than you'd expected, but still strong enough to make you grimace.

You were just starting to warm to it when a voice cut through your thoughts.

“What the actual fuck do you think you’re doing right now?”

You jumped at the sharp tone, spinning around to see who it was.

And there was Rafe Cameron, head cocked to the side in a manner of questioning.

You recognized him immediately. Everyone knew who Rafe Cameron was. His reputation preceded him – all sharp edges and simmering anger. Up close, he was even more striking than the whispers suggested. His jawline was sharp as if it was carved from stone, his hair was currently tousled falling just barely on his forehead – but hidden under a cap. Overall, his presence was just absolutely jarring and overwhelming.

Rafe, it seems, did not look impressed.

Catching yourself amidst stare, you snapped back harsher than intended. “I’m sorry?”

“That’s my bottle,” he said, nodding towards the bottle of whiskey in your hand.

You blinked. “Your bottle?”

“Yeah,” he pressed. “I brought it. And I don’t remember saying you could just help yourself.”

Was Rafe fucking Cameron seriously picking a fight over a sip of whiskey at a party, where people were practically bathing in alcohol that were stolen?

“It was sitting with the rest of the drinks,” you said slowly, trying to keep your tone calm. “I didn’t think it was a big deal. And I needed to relieve some tension, if you don’t mind.”

“Well, it is a big deal and I do mind,” he said coldly, his eyes narrowing.

Your patience snapped. “Oh, I’m sorry,” you said, dripped with sarcasm. “Was I supposed to fill out a permission form? Do I need to ask for your permission to take a swig?”

Clearly Rafe was getting ticked off as his jaw was tightening. “It’s called common courtesy. Maybe you’ve heard of it.”

You let out a short laugh, dry and humorless. “Right. Because this is clearly a party full of people who care about manners and shit.”

He took a step closer, his presence suddenly suffocating. “You don’t even know me,” he said, his voice low and dangerous.

“And I’m starting to think I don’t want to,” you shot back.

For a moment, something flickered in his expression, something you couldn’t quite place. Annoyance, maybe. Or curiosity.

“Who even invited you? Did you just stroll into the party with no friends thinking that bottles of alcohol would help you make some?” he asked, his tone dripping with disdain.

“Not that it’s any of your business, but I came with a friend. You know, like normal people do.”

Rafe scoffed. “Normal? You don’t exactly scream ‘normal’ if that’s what you really think.”

Your grip on the bottle tightened. “And you think ‘nice guy’ seems to fit your persona?”

“No, because trust me, I’m not.” His mouth twitched, like he was fighting back a smirk. 

The air between them was thickening – too fast for your liking. You could feel your pulse pounding in your ears, the bass was extremely deafening as you felt it vibrate off the floor. Everything was tightening up on you, and you were on the verge of puking all over Rafe’s shoes.

“Look,” you finally said, voice firm. “I didn’t know the whiskey was yours. If it’s that big of a deal, I’ll find a new one at the store and buy it for you.”

His eyebrow shot up, his skepticism practically radiating off him. “You think you can just swing by the store and pick up a bottle like that?”

Your eyes narrowed. “I’ll figure it out.”

“Sure you will.”

The condescension in his voice made your stomach churn. You opened your mouth to fire back, but before you could, someone called his name from the other room.

“Rafe! Come on, man!”

He didn’t look away immediately. His gaze lingered, as if he was trying to decide whether you were worth more of his time. Finally, he took a step back as his lips were curving into a smirk that made your blood boil.

“Don’t get too comfortable,” he said, his tone mocking. “This isn’t a type of place for pretty girls like you.”

Snatching the whiskey out of your hand, he was gone as if nothing had happened.

“Fucking dick,” you mumbled. You were starting to feel a migraine ease its way into your head with the ongoing commotions of people yelling and the music.

Minutes were quickly strolling past, and you were itching to leave - so you ended up sending a text to your friend who was long lost somewhere in the house.

not feeling good, im gonna head out. get home safe x

Making your way out of the house (avoiding all the touchy drunks), you sighed. Fresh air. This is where you felt most free.

This isn’t a type of place for pretty girls like you.

For pretty girls like you.

Pretty girls like you.

Rafe Cameron had labelled you as a pretty girl. And it just had to fly over your head. 

With a groan, you took a last glance back at the house, and there you saw him. Standing near the doorway, leaning with the bottle of whiskey they were arguing over a bit ago. With a quick subtle smirk, he was gone.

Who would’ve thought that you two would meet again. Approximately, the next day.

NOTE. first chapter is now complete woohooo !!! i'm verygiddy rn i wanna hear how you guys feel about this chapter and js everything overall.. i have second chapter coming soooooon. xx isa

TAGS. @urbrunettebombshell

[thewritingrowlet]

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.

[world-of-aus]

The Arrangement - Prologue

Pairing: Mobboss!Bucky x Reader

Chapter Warnings: None.

Authors Note: Any and all writing errors are my own. Am I going to attempt a mobboss, arranged marriage series? Yes. Will I give this series my all? Also yes! I hope yall enjoy this prologue, more to come soon 🤍

Your sister called off the wedding. Come home now.

“Mother please sit down,” you plead, watching her pace the carpet in your fathers office, “you’re going to worry yourself sick, surely she just caught a case of cold feet its going to be alright, she’ll come around you'll see, she’s done this before – she knows how important this union is for both our families.”

Your mother stops in her stride head snapping to you her eyes turned to slits, desperation hidden behind the anger in her eyes. “Your sister went to Winnifred Barnes herself this morning, told her she could no longer marry her son didn’t even give a valid reason as to why, no actual explanation and then what does she do? She up and leaves town, hasn’t answered a single call or text from me or your father even her ex-fiancé cant get a ahold of her. And what’s worse is we didn’t even find out from her, this information came from Winnifred and let me just say – she wasn’t pleased this isn’t just a case of cold feet.”

Trying to be the voice of reason you go to reassure your mother, “this a big event in her life mother, she’s to be handed off in less than a week for a merger that’s been written in the stars for years now between two families ours and the Barnes. You must give her some grace, she’s overwhelmed, she’s probably scared, her life is going to change drastically in less than a weeks a time. She knew – no she knows how important this merger is for both families, she wouldn’t do this she loves him.”

“But she did sweetheart,” your father speaks up a weak and tired smile on his lips, “and as much as you want to come to her aide, there is no defending your sisters actions. We’re even lucky that Winnifred has agreed to give us a chance to right her wrongs.”

“That’s great, we can buy ourselves time! I’ll change her mind, make her come home.”

Your father shakes his head, “we’re out of time sweetheart.”

“No, just give me a chance to talk to her, talk her off the ledge, I’ll even reach out to Winnie.”

Your dads shaking his head again, your mothers pacing stopped as she moves over to you, “there is no more time sweetheart,” your mother murmurs as she takes the seat next to you, her hands reaching for yours, “they no longer see your sister as an option for this marriage.”

You suck in a breath, “but that means –“ your fathers expression is enough to confirm your suspicion.

“You’re to be married to James Barnes in a weeks time.”

You forget how to breath, “No. No. We can – I can.”

“I’m sorry sweetheart.”

Those words are the nail in the coffin, neither your mom or your dad stopping you as you bolt from the room. As you race down the hallway you rip your phone from the confines of your coat getting your sisters contact open.

“Tell me where you are, I can come to you – we can fix this.”

“I can’t do this. I love you all so much, but I just can’t. I’m sorry, please understand.”

“I know you’re scared, but you won’t be alone I promise, please just tell me where you are lets talk about this.”

Free MSG: Unable to send message—message blocking active.

“No. No. No.” You breathe pressing the call icon bringing the phone up to your ear. Your curse when you’re automatically forwarded to her inbox .

“Please don’t do this, they want me to marry him, I cant do that to you, to him, please!”

Free MSG: Unable to send message—message blocking active.

No. No. No.

This couldn’t be happening, this wasn’t part of the plan, this wasn’t part of the plan.

It was supposed to be her, not you.

He wanted her, not you.

[leconcombrerit]

This thing had been rotting in my files for a year (minus three weeks but that's basically a year). It was a redraw of one of my first ever pieces for this fandom, and I still find it quite okay if a little stiff in places, so I thought I might as well share it since I don't draw that much anymore.

And then I had second thoughts, which obviously led to me posting it anyway, as you can see, but I realized I've almost made it a point not to draw anything related to Sasi anymore. As in at all. I can't, and I don't want to, and even sharing old art feels a bit 'meh'. It's too directly linked to my long going art block.

What I mean by that is that if I took all the followers I have out there and asked them what they know me or initially followed me for, you might have a fair amount of Lis 2 and the occasional Desert Bluffs afficionados, but you'd get an overwhelming majority of Sanders Sides. Sanders Sides fashion posts even. I was by no means famous for it or anything, but at my small artist scale, it was the biggest success I had.

And it makes it much harder to go back to it at all now. One, because I don't give a damn about the show anymore. Two, because I haven't been properly obsessing over anything in a while (there was a series early this year but given the actual emotional distress I get thinking about it I'm ruling it out). I haven't had real engagement from my own brain, nor real engagement from a broad audience -which makes sense, I'm not posting for anything that will reach a broad audience. But it takes its toll regardless.

Even when I finally finished writing a long fic, I couldn't help but feel 'all this for what ? Ten people or so and two hundreds have dropped it ?'. Which is a bad way to think about stuff you write for your own enjoyment but, you know, the brain gets happy with external validation even if you pretend really hard you don't care.

And so it feels tempting to go back to the golden goose just the time to get the creative juice pumping back, and I try, and I always end up frustrated and angry and feeling even less like making art that before. I'm not having fun with Sasi. Like an old friend you have nothing to say to and yet you have so much to say otherwise, so you get a bit frustrated, you know ? Not sure I'm making much sense, but that's how it feels. I want to have something like that again, but it won't be with Sanders Sides, and I somehow just want if off my radar.

It was left hanging, then lost its spark, and then I stopped caring altogether and I most likely won't even watch the finale when it does come out. I'm over it. I wish I wasn't though, because it does feel like the artistic spark won't come back all on its own this time, and the buzzing community made it so much easier to bounce back and do shit when your brain got wired all wrong.

It sounds like I'm just bawling after love and likes and stuff, and I guess that's part of it, in a way ? Like I'm in no place to do things for myself, and seeing the one thing I used to use to get back in the flow giving me a bored sense of dread doesn't feel too great.

Yet this drawing is still good ! I find it good ! I don't remember everything, but I can tell from the looks of it that I spent a while on it ! It's nice ! I should celebrate that. So I'm sharing it. I think it will be the last piece of Sasi I ever share, though. I'm not watching the finale when it comes out. I don't care about it. I'll just keep doodling my OCs and characters from cool books every once in a while. I'll write little things.

I just really, really need to stop trying to go back to it when it's clearly not working and not even for good reasons. It was a fun ride though ! So yeah. Basically. A whole ass rant for a one year old piece of art. I'm in my bi-annual depresso mood, nothing too surprising there.

[reasonsforhope]

"For generations, the people of Erakor village in the Pacific nation of Vanuatu would pass their time swimming in the local lagoon. Ken Andrew, a local chief, remembers diving in its depths when he was a child, chasing the fish that spawned in its turquoise waters.

That was decades ago. Now 52, Andrew has noticed a more pernicious entity invading the lagoon: plastic.

“The plastic would form a small island inside the lagoon, it was so thick,” Andrew says. “We used fishing nets to pull some of the trash out, but we didn’t know how to get rid of it all. We couldn’t conquer it, there was just too much.”

While residents were struggling to empty Vanuatu’s waters of plastic, the country’s politicians were considering another solution. Could they stop the waste directly at the source?

Small island nations like Vanuatu face a series of unique challenges when it comes to plastic pollution. Many rely on imported goods to sustain their populations, and receive tonnes of plastic packaging every day as a result. Ocean currents pull plastic waste from around the world into Pacific waters, which eventually end up on the shores of its islands.

Few Pacific island governments have adequate recycling or waste management facilities on their narrow strips of land, so rubbish is often burned or left to wash up in rivers or lagoons like the one in Erakor. It is estimated that Pacific countries generate 1kg of waste per person a day, 40% higher than the global average.

In an attempt to drastically limit the amount of waste generated in Vanuatu, in 2018 the government became one of the first in the world to outlaw the sale and distribution of certain single-use plastics – including a world-first ban on plastic straws.

In the six years since, the results have been impressive. Thin, plastic shopping bags are hardly ever seen, with most shoppers carrying reusable bags at their local market or grocery store. At festivals and outdoor events, food is more often served wrapped in banana leaves instead of polystyrene takeaway boxes. Now-banned items used to make up 35% of Vanuatu’s waste, but now make up less than 2%.

Pictured: Pandanus leaves are now used instead of plastic bags at markets, but supply of the crop can be affected by storms and cyclones, vendors say.

The plastic islands that once choked Erakor lagoon are also shrinking.

“Since they started the ban, you can see the lagoon has become cleaner,” says Andrew.

It is a massive victory for a small island nation made up of just over 300,000 people across 83 islands...

In 2020, a second phase of the policy added seven more items to the list of forbidden plastics, which now covers cutlery, single-use plates and artificial flowers.

“It’s quite difficult to enforce because of the very low capacity of the department of environment,” Regenvanu says. “So we try to work with the municipal authorities and customs and other people as well.”

Compromises had to be made, though. Fishers are still allowed to use plastic to wrap and transport their produce. Plastic bottles are also permitted, even though they often litter coastlines and rivers.

Secondary industries have now developed to provide sustainable alternatives to the banned items. On the island of Pentecost, communities have started replacing plastic planter pots with biodegradable ones made from native pandanus leaves. Mama’s Laef, a social enterprise that began selling fabric sanitary napkins before the ban, has since expanded its range to reusable nappies and bags.

“We came up with these ideas to reduce the amount of plastic in Vanuatu,” says the owner Jack Kalsrap. “We’re a small island state, so we know that pollution can really overwhelm us more than in other, bigger countries.” ...

Willy Sylverio, a coordinator of the Erakor Bridge Youth Association, is trying to find ways to recycle the litter his team regularly dredges up from the lagoon.

“The majority of the plastic waste now comes from noodle packaging or rice packaging, or biscuit packets,” Sylverio says. He hopes the plastic ban will one day include all packaging that covers imported goods. “Banning all plastic is a great idea, because it blocks the main road through which our environment is polluted.”

The Vanuatu government plans to expand the plastic ban to include disposable nappies, and says it will also introduce a plastic bottle deposit scheme this year to help recycle the remaining plastic waste in the country."

-via The Guardian, June 20, 2024

[moonsandmobilityaids]

Oversensitive

Pairings: Poly!marauders x disabled!reader Summary: Your body sometimes overreacts to touch, telling you it hurts when it doesn't. So when it happens while Sirius is kissing you, you ignore it. This doesn't go over too well. Warnings: Chronic pain Series Masterlist

The fire crackles in the corner of your room, casting dancing shadows across the walls. The soft glow fills you with warmth, contrasting against the chill that seeps through the windowpanes from the night outside.

You are safe here, surrounded by the boys who have become so much more than friends to you—Sirius, Remus, and James. They've been your sanctuary in a stormy world, their love an anchor when everything else seemed intent on tearing you away.

"You're beautiful," Sirius murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper as he hovers over you. His grey eyes meet yours, filled with mischief and something deeper—a rawness that makes your heart race.  

"Flatterer," you tease, but your breath catches as he leans down, mere inches separating his lips from yours.

Remus is there too, sitting by your side, one hand resting lightly on your waist. His presence is quieter, steadier—but no less intoxicating. Where Sirius is the flame, daring and unpredictable, Remus is the embers, burning slow and steady underneath.

His thumb traces small circles on your skin, grounding you even as Sirius stirs up a whirlwind inside your chest. Every now and then, Remus leans over to press a gentle kiss to your shoulder or brush his fingers along your arm, sending shivers coursing through your veins despite the heat of the fire nearby.

There's a tension in the air—one that has built slowly throughout the evening, thickening until it feels almost tangible. It wraps around you all, binding you together in anticipation of what's to come.

Your heart pounds as Sirius closes the distance between you, his lips meeting yours with a hunger that leaves you breathless. His hands roam your body, fingertips tracing paths that set your skin aflame. There's an urgency to his touch tonight, a fervor that mirrors the wild look in his eyes.

"Easy, Padfoot," Remus murmurs from beside you, his tone a mix of amusement and concern. But Sirius only grins against your skin before pressing a kiss to the hollow of your throat.

The sensation is exquisite—the roughness of his stubble scraping slightly against your sensitive flesh, the heat of his mouth searing a path down towards your collarbone. It's intoxicating, overwhelming, and for a moment, all you can focus on is the rhythm of your own heartbeat thundering in your ears.

But then, without warning, something changes. What was once pleasure begins to twist into discomfort under Sirius's touch. You try to ignore it at first, blaming it on the awkward angle or perhaps a muscle pulled too taut. But as he shifts above you, his hands gripping your sides just a bit too tightly, pain slices through you like a shard of ice.

You gasp, the sound barely audible over the crackle of the fire and the rushing blood in your ears. His weight pins you to the bed, each breath sending another jolt of agony radiating from your ribs. The room seems to spin around you, your vision blurring with tears that threaten to spill over.

Yet you remain silent, biting back the cry that claws its way up your throat. This isn't how it's supposed to be, but admitting it feels like surrendering to weakness. And more than anything, you don't want to ruin this moment, to see the guilt etched onto Sirius's face or the worry clouding Remus's eyes. It's not their fault that your body is oversensitive sometimes, and if you ignore it long enough, it tends to go away.

"Something's not right," Remus murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper as he leans closer to you. His hand hesitates at the edge of your shirt, fingertips brushing against the exposed skin there.

His touch is a stark contrast to Sirius's, light and cautious where the other is insistent. You feel the tension coil tighter within you, a knot of apprehension growing with each passing second.

Remus's fingers trace along the curve of your waist, moving so slowly it's almost maddening. He seems to be searching for something—any sign that might explain what's wrong—but all he finds is the rigid line of your body beneath him.

His brow furrows, lips pressing into a thin line as realization dawns. "You're tense," he says, words measured and careful as though afraid they might shatter the fragile silence that has fallen.

Sirius pulls back from your neck, teeth grazing your lower lip in a way that sends jolts of pleasure shooting through you. Your eyes flutter open, meeting his stormy gaze. A small smile plays at the corners of your mouth—a silent plea for him to continue—and he obliges, leaning back in to capture your lips once more.

Across the room, James sits back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest. His eyes are half-closed, a lazy grin playing on his lips as he takes in the sight of you and the others. There's an air of contentment about him, a sense of satisfaction that comes from seeing his friends happy.

He's not partaking in the moment, not physically at least, but his presence is felt nonetheless. It's in the way his eyes soften when he looks at you, in the subtle shift of his body as he leans back in his chair, comfortable and relaxed amidst the chaos.

But even in his state of repose, James isn't blind to the changes unfolding before him. The faint crease between your brows, the quick intake of breath as Sirius shifts atop you, his hand sliding under your shirt—it doesn't take much for him to put the pieces together.

"Kiss me," you breathe, a plea more than a command. And Sirius does, his lips finding yours with an urgency that leaves no room for thought.

His hands roam your body, tracing paths of desire and need that have been left untouched for too long. Yet as the pressure increases, so too does the pain in your ribs—a sharp reminder of reality's cruel hand.

You gasp against Sirius's mouth, not out of pleasure but discomfort. He freezes above you, pulling back slightly to search your face for signs of distress. "Are you alright?" he asks, concern seeping into his voice.

"I'm fine." You force a smile, willing yourself to ignore the throbbing pain radiating from your side. "Just... be gentle."

But even as you say the words, it's clear something isn't right. Your smile doesn't reach your eyes, and your body remains rigid beneath Sirius's touch—not relaxed as it should be, but tense and on edge.

Remus catches the slight hesitation in your voice, the strained expression that flickers across your face before you can hide it away. His brow furrows, worry lines deepening as he watches you closely. Something is wrong—that much is obvious—but what?

Without saying a word, Remus extends a hand, placing it gently on Sirius's arm. It's a silent gesture, communicating unspoken concern through the simple act of touch. For a moment, Sirius hesitates, confusion etched onto his features. Then he turns to look at you once more, really look, and sees it—the strain around your eyes, the tightness of your jaw.

There's a long pause, a heavy silence filled with unasked questions and unsaid apologies. The air between you three seems to thicken, tension building like a storm ready to break. But when it does, it's not with thunderous anger or regretful tears; instead, it's with quiet acceptance and understanding.

"I think we should stop," Remus says finally, breaking the silence that has settled. His voice is soft, barely audible over the sound of your own ragged breathing. But its impact is immediate, cutting through the fog of desire that had clouded your judgment.

Sirius pulls away, sitting back on his heels. His grey eyes are dark with concern and something else—guilt, perhaps? But there's no time to dwell on that now. All that matters is the pain coursing through your body, a stark contrast to the warmth that had enveloped you moments ago.

"You're hurting," Remus states, though it sounds more like a question—an attempt to understand what went wrong.

The shift in the room is almost palpable, the playful energy from moments ago dissipating like smoke. It's replaced by a heaviness that settles over you all, thick and suffocating.

"No," you protest weakly, pushing yourself up on your elbows. "I'm fine, really." But your words fall flat against the silence, overshadowed by the grimace of pain that contorts your features.

"You're not fine," James murmurs, standing abruptly from his chair. He crosses the room in two long strides, stopping just short of the bed. His glasses sit askew on his nose, but he makes no move to adjust them. Instead, his gaze remains fixed on you, studying each nuance of your expression with an intensity that leaves little room for doubt.

"Y/N," Sirius's voice is hesitant, filled with an uncertainty you've rarely heard before. His usual bravado is gone, replaced by something far more vulnerable. He takes a step closer, each movement measured and deliberate. "I'm... I'm sorry."

His apology hangs heavy in the air, laced with sincerity and guilt. You can see it in the way his shoulders slump, the way his gaze flits away. This isn't the Sirius Black who charges headfirst into danger, laughing in the face of fear. This is someone else entirely—a boy stripped bare of arrogance, haunted by the consequences of his actions.

"I didn't mean to hurt you." The words come out choked, as if every syllable causes him physical pain. "I got carried away, didn't realise how much..."

"It's not a big deal," you insist, though the strain in your voice betrays the truth of your pain.

But to them—to Sirius, Remus, and James—it is a big deal. They see through your brave facade, recognizing the discomfort that lingers behind each forced smile. Their worry hangs heavy in the air, a silent testament to their concern for you.

"You don't need to downplay it, Y/N," Remus finally speaks up, his voice soft yet firm amidst the tension. "We can all see you're in pain."

You open your mouth, ready to argue back, but his words resonate with a truth you've been trying to ignore. He's right; denying the obvious isn't helping anyone, least of all you.

"Well... maybe just a little sore," you admit, shifting slightly under the weight of their gazes.

"You should've said." His hand squeezes your shoulder gently, offering a small measure of comfort. "You don't have to pretend otherwise."

The room falls silent again as they digest Remus' words—simple and true. It's easy to forget sometimes, amid all the chaos and bravado, that you are allowed to feel, to show vulnerability. Especially now, while pain still throbs at your side, a harsh reminder of the line between fun and recklessness.

James moves then, uncrossing his arms to reach out towards you. His fingers brush against yours tentatively before he takes your hand into his own—a silent vow of support. The warmth seeping from his touch seems to dull the ache, if only for a moment.

"Remus is right," he says, looking straight into your eyes. There's an intensity in his gaze, a spark of determination flickering beneath the surface. "Your health comes first, Y/N. Always."

"But I—" you start, preparing another feeble protest.

"No buts," he interrupts, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. "We care about you too much to let this go."

"Y/N," Sirius's voice is a whisper now, shaky and raw. "I... I really didn't know what I was doing. I'm sorry."

The air in the room grows heavy with those words—words that don't come easily to someone like Sirius Black, who always appears so sure of himself.

"I've got you," James reassures softly, his grip on your hand firm yet gentle. "Just breathe."

His voice is an anchor amidst the storm of pain surging through your body—a constant pull back towards reality. You squeeze your eyes shut as another wave hits, gritting your teeth against the sharp sting. When it recedes, leaving only a dull ache in its wake, you let out a shaky breath.

Your gaze flits over to where Sirius stands, his face pale. He's silent, his eyes never straying from your form. There's something fragile lurking just beneath the surface of his usual bravado. It's disconcerting, seeing him this way: unsure, hesitant, vulnerable.

He takes a step forward, reaching out to brush a stray lock of hair from your forehead. His touch is feather-light, but it sends shivers down your spine nonetheless—not from fear or discomfort, but from the sheer intensity of his concern.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs again, voice barely above a whisper. "Merlin, baby, I'm so sorry."

You want to reassure him, to ease the guilt etched across his features, but your words catch in your throat. Instead, you offer him a weak smile, hoping it conveys everything you can't seem to say aloud.

He doesn't return the gesture, his expression remaining sombre as he pulls away, settling back into his previous position at the foot of your bed. The distance between you feels insurmountable despite the small size of the room, each inch amplifying the heaviness of the silence that follows.

"Here," Remus' voice cuts through the quiet, drawing your attention away from Sirius. He holds out a glass filled with a water and offers an encouraging nod when you hesitate. "Drink."

With James' help, you manage to sit up enough to take a few tentative sips, the coolness soothing your parched throat. As you lean back against the pillows, exhaustion seeps into your bones, making every movement feel like a monumental effort.

A soft sigh escapes your lips, more from relief than anything else. For the first time since waking up, you allow yourself to relax, eyelids growing heavy as you sink further into the mattress.

"You should have been more careful," James says to Sirius after a moment, breaking the silence that has settled once again. His fingers trace idle patterns on the back of your hand, a comforting presence amidst the turmoil.

"You're right," Sirius agrees, his voice hoarse. "I shouldn't have pushed her so hard."

There's a finality to his words, a promise veiled beneath layers of regret. He won't let this happen again—you can hear it in the slight tremble of his voice, see it in the set of his jaw.

Remus remains silent, though his agreement is evident in the subtle nod of his head. His gaze stays fixed on you, thoughtful and intense, as if trying to decipher the complex emotions flickering across your face.

A part of you wants to protest—to argue that you were equally responsible for the events leading up to this moment—but fatigue clings to your limbs, and the thought of engaging in any sort of debate seems far too daunting.

The air in the room shifts, heavy with unspoken words and lingering guilt. The boys gather around you, their touches gentle as they adjust your position on the bed, making sure you're comfortable. Their faces are masks of concern, eyes darting to each other before settling back onto you.

Gone is the playful banter, the heated exchanges that had filled the space only moments ago. Now there's just this—a quiet tenderness that wraps around you like a blanket, warming places inside you didn't realise had gone cold.

"Is there anything you need?" Remus asks, his thumb brushing against the back of your hand. His touch is grounding, a steady presence amidst the whirlwind of emotions churning within.

"No," you manage, your voice barely above a whisper. "Just... just stay."

They nod, understanding passing between them without a word spoken. And so they remain, clustered around your bed like sentinels, their focus solely on you.

As the minutes tick by, the tension gradually eases from your body, replaced by a bone-deep exhaustion that tugs at your eyelids. You fight against it, not ready to surrender to sleep—not yet—but it's a losing battle. Your eyes flutter shut, and despite the pain still throbbing faintly in the background, you feel safe.

Safe because you know they'll be there when you wake up—just as they've always been, watching over you even when you don't realise it. Safe because no matter how much they push and prod, challenge and provoke, they will always put you first, always keep you out of harm's way.

[kyracooneyx23]

° *₊ ° . ° .• MASTERLIST and WIPs •. ° . °₊* °

⋆ ★ Kyra Cooney Cross ★⋆

Missed You More | 2.4k It's your first camp back after your ACL injury, but you best friend Kyra's acting strange  ↳ Favourite Pest | 3k You finally find out what's caused Kyra to act so weird Friend of a Friend Charli introduces you and Kyra, and the two of you end up getting along a bit too well [aiming to post it around late August] Forget About it After avoiding her for as long as possible you have to play against the girl who broke your heart so many years ago. [aiming to post it around late August]

-> ⋆ Kyra and Sunny Series ⋆

•.¸¸☆Sam Kerr☆¸¸.•

6ft 5 | 0.9k You're filming a tiktok and Sam wants everyone to know your hers.  ↳ 5ft 8 After signing a contract extension with Chelsea, you can't help teasing Sam over a lie she tells in a video

✧ ✦ ✧ Caitlin Foord ✧ ✦ ✧

Caitlin x child!reader series (coming soon) Squirt You're meeting the Arsenal girls for the first time Popular You find yourself the center of attention when all the girls are fighting to be your favourite But you're my mumma? Caitlin starts spending more time with Katie and less time with you

•♬✧Leah Williamson✧♬•

Enchanted | 1.6k You write a song about England's captain after meeting her briefly at an event not expecting her to share your feelings  ↳ You are in Love After back and forth messaging and a few dates you and Leah begin to go more public with your relationship causing the fans to go wild [posting date tbc] Waldosia | 2.8k a condition in which you keep scanning faces in a crowd looking for a specific person who would have no reason to be there, as if your brain is checking to see whether they're still in your life, subconsciously patting its emotional pockets before it leaves for the day. Maybe in Another Life | 3.3k You hadn't seen Leah since you'd broken up three years ago and now when you see her again you being to regret ever letting her go Buffet (18+) | 1.1k Leah can't resist an all you eat meal, especially when your the main course. baby fever | 1.6k you'd always heard your friends talk about how much they wanted kids but had never felt the same until now. Crossing Loyalties Leah's a red, you're a blue and you 'hate' each other. Well at least that's what the fans think.

⋆ ★ Katie McCabe ★⋆

Take a chance on me | 1.6k With the help of a karaoke machine and a good song, Katie finally confesses her feelings for you Snapchat Katie accidentally leaks your relationship on snapchat with all the fans [posting date tbc] St Patrick's Day You're first time meeting Katie's family is on Saint Patricks day and it's a bit overwhelming [posting date tbc]

∘₊✧ Lionesses ✧₊∘

Winners are Grinners You've just won your first major tournament with your country (teen reader) [posting date tbc]

•.¸¸☆ Matildas ☆¸¸.•

No 1 trio It's a fight to see who the better trio is - Macca, Alanna and Caitlin or You, Mini and Kyra [posting date tbc] Little Menaces You and your best friend Harper Gorry are bored and decide to annoy all your aunties. (part of the Caitlin Foord x child!reader series) [posting date tbc]

⋆ ★ Alexia Putellas ★⋆

Odio Amarte | 1.6k All of your Barca teammates think you and Alexia need to get together, but the two of you are 'enemies'. First Camp It's all to much for you on your first ever Spain camp (teen reader) [posting date tbc] La Reina You finally shoot your shot with the queen of Spain [posting date tbc]

✧ ✦ ✧ Niamh Charles ✧ ✦ ✧

I wanna ruin our friendship Niamh wants more than anything to tell you how she feels but she's to scared to lose her best friend [posting date tbc] Let's tell the world you and Niamh decide it's finally time to go public with your relationship [posting date tbc]

•♬✧ CWFC ✧♬•

We made it After battling injuries, sicknesses and mental health problems for years, you finally made it all the way to the final day

•.¸¸☆AWFC☆¸¸.•

Go away (platonic) You and Kyra are always up to no good, but one day it gets all to much for your Arsenal teammates.

Scare Cam Kyra sets up a scare cam and it doesn't go to plan

✧ ✦ ✧ Lucy Bronze ✧ ✦ ✧

Don't be sorry | 3.1k the matildas lose to england in the semi final of the world cup and you take the blame

[dogcircle-scans]

I'm really curious to know if you have officially dropped the manga. If so (and even if not obvs), I'd just like to thank you for so many amazing years of awesome translations. This manga may not be very popular in the west but I'm glad you kept bringing it for so many of us

Hey, sorry for just now seeing this even though this question was sent back in late November.

No, we haven't officially dropped the manga, and Idk if any group has picked up the series while I was gone. Emphasis on the "I" because our absence was not a consenting choice made by anyone else in this group. So if anyone harbors any kind of resentment, then do not direct it towards anyone but me. If we ever decide to officially drop the series, I'll make an official announcement on this blog. To be honest, I wasn't really gonna make much hubbub about a comeback and just post a chapter as if no time had passed. But, because I got this question and you were very nice about it. I'll give some insight.

- 🦙

The only reason I'm an active part of this fandom (any fandom now really) despite it being against my lurker nature and excessive anxiety issues is because I was encouraged to do so by a friend. If you know me from Discord, then you probably know that aside from running this blog, I'm leader of the scan group and owner of its server, I'm even an admin for the Natsume fan server which is its own separate thing.

I don't know if that sounds already sounds overwhelming, but just to scare you, I also proofread the scripts so the dialogue sounds natural and act as quality checker for each chapter. This means cleaning/redrawing sections of pages if the CLDR forgot or didn't meet the standard of quality I'm looking for. Similar with typesetting, I'll rearrange the text if I feel it could be done better. I'm also the main SFX person. When it comes to the scan server, outside of running and maintaining it, I also act as mod to make sure people aren't posting anything inappropriate or inoffensive + setting up bots and permissions.

When I was in High School and even during my early years of college, I could manage it cause I had the support and energy for it. Plus, my love for Natsume was scary intense. So when life got hard, I found that working on scans acted as a lifeline.

Then I had a messy fallout with the friend who prompted all of this, and things shifted. It didn't help that things in my personal life got really bad and more or less stayed that way for 2/3 years. And because of the association, and the guilt of falling behind, working on Natsume was no longer a stress-relieving activity. It became the source of my stress. I ran away because I was scared and overwhelmed. It wasn't healthy and it only made things worse, honestly.

But, I've been really hard on myself over this past year, and I finally reached the point of wanting to come back, but the guilt from being a deadbeat was still eating me alive. Then I got really sick at the start of this month, and I'm no lie, I'm still sick... but that gave me a lot of time to think and reevaluate all kinds of things. Because honestly? I miss working on scans and the collaborative aspect that I fell in love with because of Natsume.

And literally just this past Saturday/Sunday night, I sent a message to the group, apologizing for what I did and provided a similar explanation of why I did what I did. I trying it as just an explanation and not an excuse - I hope I was able to do that here too.

I told my group to give me several days before I actually start working on scans again, though, because it'll allow me to catch up with everything and figure out what needs to be done next, and it'll also give me more time to recover.

Thank you once again for being kind and understanding! I really appreciate it 🥹💚

[sixosix]

ARE YOU READY FOR IT? | LYNEY

warnings 1.8k words, implied child neglect, the dark themes of the house of the hearth, once again i will say that this is not canon compliant

notes thank u naosaki (art) for proofreading the first ever chapter of the series!!! and being my hypeman overall LMFAO, see the end of the work for more notes + FANART

masterlist | next chapter

A deep breath. In, out. Once more. Rehearsed lines, practiced smiles, and a heart as steady as a frightened squirrel.

“Good?”

You meet his eyes. “Good.”

The corset isn’t as suffocating as you expected it would be. Aether ensures that you’re as comfortable as possible dressed in this snug bodice with a puffed-up, full skirt that drapes gracefully down your legs in a deep shade that blends in seamlessly with those of those who walk past the busy streets of Fontaine—because you’d eventually have to fight with this thing on.

The polearm feels heavy nestled in your palms. Strange, as you had never gone through a night without spinning it around your body and thrusting it into the air in the solitude of the night where no one would suspect a thing. You flick your wrist, not bothered to watch it disperse into the air. You’ve come to a point where green stems are more at home in your hands than weapons. You’re not sure why you don’t feel content with that revelation.

“Are you ready?”

Your gaze snaps to Aether, who’s looking at you warily as if standing across a ticking bomb. “Yes.” You offer a smile, hoping it comes across as comforting.

Aether tries for a smile back, though it looks more like a grimace. You can see it in his eyes: he doesn’t trust you. But his desire to learn more overpowers his wariness, and now, you’ve struck a deal. So long as you’re wearing this disguise, you are allies.

“Paimon is starting to miss your muddy apron,” Paimon says, wilting as you twirl around. “You look a lot less like Y/N.”

“This is who I really am, Paimon.” You glance to the ruffles and the thick coat, engulfing you in everything Fontaine. 

Paimon tilts her head. “Who?”

You cast her a dry smile. “Runaway coward, fraud, and Fatuu.”

YEARS BEFORE.

For as long as you can remember, you’ve been an orphan under the care of ‘Father’.

If you were to shut your eyes and reminisce about life before the orphanage, you’d catch a fleeting glimpse of your mother’s face as you were surrendered over to grand doors, ones that felt like they were fifteen feet tall and thick enough to keep you from your family. You don’t know if your mother was kind or if she intended to leave you here long enough for everyone to call you an orphan. You eventually stopped dreaming about her.

You find that it doesn’t matter because you’re already here. You wouldn’t know where she would be. Waking up spelled out another day of pushing through.

“Hush, child,” a voice whispered as you hiccuped, overwhelmed with unfamiliar faces and tall, tall walls. Your chin was gripped by hands with sharp nails, but they didn’t hurt you. “Save your tears. You are safer here.”

You blinked rapidly, tremors jostling your shoulders with each ugly sob, tears rolling down your cheeks. Your breathing slowed as the shed tears cleared your vision, finally seeing the woman in front of you. She looked as if she had just done something horrible; she looked as if she wouldn’t hesitate to slit your throat if you screamed and thrashed around her hold.

You looked at her and saw someone you knew would protect you.

It became a little less dull when ‘Father’ let you borrow one of the weapons from the stash. The one you chose reeked of dried blood and looked dangerously unused, its surface marred by rust. It was long, and you concluded from the tip that it was no sword; it was all too different from the weapons you’ve seen around. On your first swing, you stumbled and nearly let it slip through your fingers.

“A polearm,” ‘Father’ noted, staring down at you in a way that felt as if she was scrutinizing every action and every thought running through your head. “Would you like to try it out?”

It was difficult. Each swing felt as if you were inches away from hitting your own head—or, even worse, felt as if you would make the wrong move and hit ‘Father’, who’s watching you in silence. She doesn’t stand from where she’s seated, though she does speak here and there. Stand straighter; don’t hold it too tightly; watch your balance.

You loved it. You held onto the rusty polearm more than you breathe. You train, and train, and train until it twirls around your fingers seamlessly, like water rushing through smooth rocks, until it’s as easy as a second limb.

That is how you made a name for yourself in the House of the Hearth.

During the times ‘Father’ returned briefly from business trips, you’d make her watch you train. You made her see how far you’d come, and she knew it, too. She’d even invite the other orphans to spar with you, but you were never defeated.

The orphans would hear your name, and they’d either scrunch their noses in distaste or brighten up in awe—it’s all the same, in your opinion. They hear your name and think of how fondly Arlecchino favors you.

The next one, they whisper. The next king.

The House of the Hearth became something greater than a home. It became a training ground for future soldiers, disguised as an orphanage, yet it treated you far better than your own household. Here, you've matured in wisdom with each thrust of your weapon and with every hidden truth that Teyvat conceals; it's where you learned to sharpen and embrace them all. Here, no one can hurt you. No one tries to break down your walls or question why you have them up in the first place. 

‘Father’ took you in and gave you another chance. ‘Father’ saw your battered arms and torn faith and introduced you to a house where you wouldn’t ever have to feel this broken again. And you, too young and too aware of the creeping loneliness clawing at you, took her hand and never looked back.

The House of the Hearth is where you learned what it was like to feel respect. Fear goes hand-in-hand with it, but you can’t help it if it can’t bring you down because you’ve climbed far too out of reach.

“That was a really good match,” Freminet mumbles as you walk over, sweaty all over and panting from exhaustion—but there’s a wide smile on your face, only ever appearing after battling someone.

You beam at his praise. “Yeah? I was testing a new move last night. It didn’t work, though.”

“I didn’t even notice you slipping,” Freminet says, puzzled, prompting a burst of laughter from you.

This side of you is only reserved for Freminet. To everyone else—and especially ‘Father’—you’re cold and cruel, and you don’t like wasting time with other people. But you’ve grown fond of Freminet, just as his quiet murmurs and hours-long of whispers are meant just for you. It’s a strange friendship. Everyone else thinks you could never get along.

What everyone else thinks doesn’t matter. Nothing else matters, not when you’re something here.

“‘Father’ is calling for you,” Freminet says, gesturing vaguely to the side.

You pat Freminet’s head and flick the polearm back to life, materializing in your hands. “I’ll see you at dinner, ‘kay? Don’t sneak off this time.” Freminet pretends to think about it, humming thoughtfully, then smiles when you nudge his shoulder before darting off.

“Every kingdom would have the next king,” is what ‘Father’ says when you’re a few steps across her. There’s a ghost of a smile on her face—or at least is what you like to think. Your heart races. “I see it in you, child.”

Warmth fills your chest. You bow your head to hide the unprofessional and childish smile.

“Ah,” she continues, looking off to the side. “Before I forget…fetch your siblings. I have news to share.”

You frown, failing to hide your disappointment. You were hoping for a bit more. “Of course, ‘Father’.”

The House of the Hearth was perfect. This was where you thrived—where no one else could take this victorious feeling away.

But then Lynette became a part of the ‘family’, and with it, she dragged along Lyney.

Lyney, with his slicked back, matted hair, violet eyes wide yet somehow dim, and figure thinner than a stick—the picture of every orphan stumbling into their new home for the very first time. Lyney, who stands beside ‘Father’ as they’re introduced, his gaze wandering the room, the unfamiliar faces, then your unimpressed eyes. Lynette is behind him, peeking out from his shoulder.

‘Father’ gives them the usual: a promise of no betrayal, a promise of a bond as strong as the blood shared between the twins. They listen. You scowl.

It is also here, in the House of the Hearth, where your world is flipped upside down, all because of violet eyes that seem to have never left yours.

There’s something about Lyney that unnerves you.

You assure Freminet that it’s not just because you’re miffed that The Knave is paying too close attention to the twins. You would get over the jealousy—you knew it was for the twins to feel at ease as they settled in; she’d done the same to you (the only difference is she never stopped). But Freminet has also taken a deep liking to them, saying you’re wary for no reason.

He isn’t wrong. You’re wary for a reason you’re not sure why just yet.

It was just that Lyney’s face pissed you off.

He keeps staring from over ‘Father’’s legs, sharp eyes following your movements. His face is blank, keeping you from reading his thoughts, yet his eyes are wide. You can’t tell if it’s akin to a trembling puppy or a cat prepared to pounce. You hate the feeling of his eyes boring into your skin.

You tell ‘Father’ all of this as the other orphans scurry off to bed, and you’re in charge of cleaning the dining table. With each plate stacked, venom spits from your mouth, brows knitted, and teeth bared in a snarl. You haven’t questioned any of ‘Father’’s decisions—you’re wary of this particular one, though.

‘Father’ has that quirk on her lips, amusement evident on her suspiciously bright expression. “You haven’t met Lyney yet, have you? What’s brought this reaction out of you?”

You nearly fumble with the glasses, avoiding her eyes. “I-It’s not as if I hate him. I just—I don’t know. There’s something strange about him.”

And speaking of strange, ‘Father’ has that look in her eye that you’re starting to feel agitated by. You think that the knowing smile is a nice look on her, however, you’re not sure if what’s running through her head at the moment can be considered nice.

“I see,” she says, a lilt in her tone.

“See what, ‘Father’?” You bristle when she smiles wider. “See what?”

references: kingdom and the next king — lyney voiceline: about “father”: king

BEFORE U STOP READING, Pls check out this AWESOME FANART (FANART!!!) of the first scene by akagi0021

taglist @thenyxsky

[iamcautiouslyoptimistic]

Call of Duty but make it 🐺werewolves🐺

{Author's Note} Inspired by @deadbranch's werewolf AU so definitely go check it out. I’ve leaned more into the supernatural aspect than her series has and thought it'd be fun to post it for October hehe. If y'all want some good werewolf/soldier content, check out the "Shape-Shifters" episode from Netflix's Love, Death, and Robots. It fits this AU perfectly and gives a good visual for how things would work. >Call of Duty Werewolves AU -> Part 2 *I’d love hearing any ideas y’all have and would be happy to answer with more headcanons if you guys want. Werewolves and werewolf AUs are my JAM*

~ ~ ~

First, some lore for this AU...

>Werewolves are usually forced into organizations like the military to keep them under control. They are feared by most of humanity and treated more as assets rather than citizens with laws put into place to make sure they don't hurt the people around them. Medication is often taken to suppress their lycanthropy and violent force is used if they ever get out of hand. There are plenty of groups who specialize in the hunting and killing of werewolves.

>Natural werewolves are born with their abilities and have an easier time with their transformations as a result. 

>Bitten werewolves gain their abilities after being bitten by another werewolf. They tend to be more vicious when transformed and often have a harder time managing themselves. 

>Transformations are not dictated by the cycles of the Moon but instead by a werewolf’s will and emotions. However, many werewolves revere the Moon and often hold celebrations as it passes through its phases each month.

>Werewolves only gain about a foot in height when they transform, due to the shape of their feet changing and their spine lengthening to allow for quadrupedal movement (ex. 6'4" -> 7'4"). Their muscle mass/weight remain about the same as it is the face and head that undergo the most dramatic changes.

>Hair length and style remain relatively the same when transformed. Bitten werewolves tend to have less hair than natural werewolves. 

>Eyes are reflective in both forms; natural werewolves keep their human eye colors when transformed, while bitten werewolves tend to have more unusual eye colors (brown to amber, blue to silver, etc.). 

>Moon madness/blindness is when a werewolf is overwhelmed by the light of a full moon and transforms without meaning to, regressing to a state of mind that is driven more by instinct rather than higher reason (werewolf equivalent to human psychosis). This is more common among bitten werewolves and can lead to violent outbursts if not properly addressed.

>Among werewolves, moonstones are said to restore a werewolf’s humanity when they’ve lost control. Because of their relative rarity, however, this belief exists only in the realm of legend rather than truth. 

🌙 🐺 🌙

💲Price is well-known for his experience and the ease with which he can transform. He commands those around him with confidence, acting as a supporting presence and capable leader. He should never be underestimated, however, as his temper frightens even the toughest werewolves.

💀Ghost was nearly killed by the werewolf who turned him and so views his lycanthropy as more of a curse. He bears numerous scars from the attack and tends to be quite vicious when transformed. He is the largest of the 141 with oversized fangs, tufted ears, and blazing amber eyes. 

🧼Soap comes from a family of Scottish werewolves who eagerly embrace their lycanthropy. He has great control over his transformations and suffers little pain as a result. His trademark Mohawk and bright blue eyes remain when shifted, making him easily identifiable.

🧢Gaz still struggles with his transformations after being bitten but he doesn't find them particularly overwhelming. Price and Soap have both been a huge help in that regard, offering their advice and companionship when needed. He's become far more confident in his abilities and enjoys the company of his fellow lycanthropic soldiers.

🦿Alex was attacked by a moon-blinded werewolf and unfortunately lost his lower left leg as a result. He's managed to find enjoyment in his new life, however, thanks in part to his association with the 141, and uses his enhanced abilities to his advantage. Laswell had a unique prosthetic made for him that adapts to his transforming body.

🪦Graves is a born-and-bred werewolf. He’s proud of his abilities and encourages use of them among his Shadows. He makes for a loyal and headstrong soldier who is known for his disarming charm and willingness to get his hands dirty. Shadow Company functions more as a tight-knit family rather than a horde of military operatives, due primarily to Graves’ leadership and his embracing of their lycanthropy.

[jo-speaks]

dinner

in which…

Quinn and fem! reader go out to dinner!

warnings: none!

fourth date in the alphabet dates series!

“All clear?” You asked from inside the car before taking Quinn’s hand and stepping out. 

He let out a soft laugh, “Yes ma’am. No paparazzi, no fans, no nothing. Just you and me.”

“And the staff.”

“And the staff.” He parroted, shutting the passenger door of his Porche closed. 

It wasn’t a shock when Quinn told you he had set reservations for the Canadian restaurant you had been dying to try since flying out to be with him in Vancouver for the season. He didn’t understand what drew you to the place. It was overwhelming, with its rooftop seating, and its whimsical dishes. 

However, the shock came when he told you it would just be the two of you. He loved keeping your relationship decently private, with a few posted pictures here and there, but mostly keeping it between you and him. 

As much as you wanted to show off your boyfriend to the world, you knew keeping it private was best. It wasn’t like people didn’t know you were his girlfriend, but social media is a vile place. 

You and Quinn walked up the short flight of stairs toward the restaurant entrance, toothy smiles covering both of your faces the whole way up. When you reached the door, Quinn let go of your hand briefly to open the door for you, quickly re-interlacing your fingers with his the second you stepped inside. 

“Excited?” He asked, following your trail of sight as you looked up at the massive chandelier hanging from the ceiling. 

“Very. Thank you.” 

He smiled widely at your response, “I should be thanking you. This view is to die for.”

You assumed he was talking about the breathtaking decor all around the restaurant, but when you flickered your eyes back to his, you realized he was looking at you. 

He eyed your lips, wanting nothing more than to kiss you right then and there. But the second he leaned in, he heard his name being called. 

“Reservation for Hughes?” The hostess asked, holding 2 menus in her hand.

Quinn pulled back, a slight red blush on his face, “Uh, yeah. That’s me.” 

The hostess smiled, “You two can follow me.” 

You laughed softly at his reaction to being caught doing, nothing really. You kissed his lips quickly before tugging his hand gently as the two of you trailed behind the hostess. 

She led you two up the staircase and onto the rooftop. The view from your table was stunning. The sun was meant to be setting in a little less than an hour, so an array of pinks and blues covered the sky. 

“A waiter will be with you in just a moment.” She smiled before walking away. 

Quinn murmured quickly, “Thank you.” before focusing back on you. He didn’t say a word as he took your hand from across the table and gently ran his thumb over the back of your hand. Your eyes met his blue ones, a smile appearing on your face as he admired your features. 

“I’m so lucky to have you, Y/N. You have no idea.” He spoke, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. 

You blushed at his words, “I love you.” 

He didn’t get the chance to say it back before a waiter approached your table with a smile.

~✩~

By the time you had finished your food, the sun was practically set, most of the light in the sky coming from scattered stars. You stood up without a word, walking over to the railing. 

You always knew Vancouver was a beautiful city, but seeing it at night was like nothing you’d ever seen before.

Colourful lights all over the city, the faint sound of street music being played in the distance. Quinn snuck up behind you, his suit-covered arms wrapping around your waist. You felt a shiver in your spine, unsure if it was because of the cool Canadian air, or the feeling of being so close to your boyfriend. 

He rested his chin on your shoulder, his stubble poking at your smooth skin. He tilted his head slightly, placing a sweet kiss on the side of your neck, before turning back to continue admiring the night view with you.

“What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours, eh? You look lost in thought.” He asked, softly.

You let out a quiet sigh, “Just thinking about you. About everything I would give to stay here with you forever.”

He smiled against your shoulder as you turned your head slightly to look at him. His eyes darted towards your lips before leaning in to connect your lips for the second time that night. You turned around, holding his face in your hands as his stayed gently on your waist.

The moment could not have been more perfect.

He couldn’t be more perfect.

[badboydevotee]

Beneath the Glitter

"Today is my birthday, so you're dining in style. I'm not going to eat any though, so you can finish it off." -Fico's birthday voiceline.

The restaurant was as extravagant as it was exclusive—a gleaming beacon of opulence nestled among the glittering skyscrapers. Its walls were adorned with velvet drapes and the air was filled with the gentle hum of classical music, the subtle clink of silverware, and the rustle of hushed conversations. Outside, the city glittered under the fading light of dusk, but inside, it was a world of indulgence, where the rich and powerful gathered to feast, to gossip, to flaunt their successes. You sat across from him, your heart a tangled mess of confusion and hesitation, unsure of what to make of the invitation. Romeo Scorpius Lucci, the man who oozed wealth and arrogance with every step he took, had asked you to join him for dinner. On his birthday, no less. But there was something unsettling about it—something you couldn’t quite place. His gaze was sharp, his posture immaculate, but his lips were pressed into a thin, cruel line. 

You had known Romeo for a while now, ever since you had crossed paths at the casino. He was a man of sharp edges, a man whose temper could ignite the room with a mere glance. It wasn’t hard to hear the stories—the whispers about how he had once been the crowned king of the fashion world, only to watch it crumble down to dust, and how he had clawed his way back from that fall with a vengeance. Everything about him screamed ambition and control, but today… today, he was different. The usual fire in his magenta eyes was muted, replaced by something unreadable.

He took a sip from his glass of wine, his lips curling slightly as he glanced at you, still silent. His hair, perfectly styled with the right side falling slightly longer than the left, caught the light from the chandelier above. The tips of his short gray hair darkened almost imperceptibly as it cascaded over his earring—each one a solid gold hoop, gleaming as brightly as the man himself. Despite the tension in the air, he looked… untouchable. Beautiful, even, though you’d never admit that to his face.

“This is a fine dining experience, BB” he said, his voice low but sharp, like the edge of a well-honed blade. “They’ve prepared a special tasting menu just for us.”

His tone held a hint of something else—something strange, like a thin layer of ice coating his usual arrogance. As he looked down at the elegant table setting, his red eyes—darker now in the dim lighting—flashed with irritation. You knew better than to speak when he was in one of these moods, especially when his temper seemed so volatile.

“It’s too bad you don’t have any appetite for the finer things in life,” you said softly, hoping to ease the tension in the room, to break through the wall he’d built around himself.

Romeo chuckled darkly, his lips curling into a wry smile. His voice came out clipped and almost condescending, like he was humoring you—one of the few things he ever did with genuine attention.

“Today is my birthday,” he declared, the words sharp and almost bitter as they passed his lips. “So you’re dining in style. I’m not going to eat any of it, though,” he added, leaning back in his chair with a languid stretch. His fingers grazed his gold earring absentmindedly, a habitual gesture that you’d seen him do countless times before. It was almost like he needed it to remind him that he was still in control. “You can finish it off.”

A part of you wanted to protest. You knew how meticulously Romeo valued every detail, every ounce of luxury and decadence. To see him not even touch the food—food that had been specially prepared—felt… wrong. But it wasn’t your place to question him. Not now. Not when his presence was so overwhelming, like the dark storm clouds gathering on the horizon.

The waiter approached, setting down a series of dishes one after the other: delicate amuse-bouches, perfectly seared foie gras, intricately arranged seafood towers, and the main course—a tender cut of wagyu beef, its rich aroma drifting through the air. It was a meal fit for royalty, but Romeo, true to his word, didn't so much as glance at it.

You stared at the plate before you, the warm light of the candles reflecting off the fine porcelain. The aroma of the food was intoxicating. It was rich, indulgent, everything he loved. Yet, there he sat, staring at his glass of wine, as if lost in thought, as if the celebration wasn’t for him at all.

“I told you, didn’t I?” Romeo said, breaking the silence, his voice now sharp with a hint of something deeper. “I’m not here to enjoy this. I have no time for pleasure when I’ve got more important things to attend to.”

You raised an eyebrow, a fleeting moment of disbelief washing over you. His obsession with money and status had always been something you’d never fully understood. But this… this felt like more. There was something in his eyes now, a flicker of vulnerability that he desperately tried to mask with that familiar sharpness, with the cold indifference that kept everyone at arm’s length.

His fingers drummed impatiently on the table, the sound of his rings against the fine wood the only noise in the otherwise still room. It was then that you realized the truth: this wasn’t a simple birthday dinner. He was fighting something. Fighting it in a way that was both desperate and painfully obvious.

“You don’t have to do this, you know,” you said quietly, pushing aside the delicate silver fork, suddenly aware of how strange the situation was. You’d never seen Romeo act like this before. He was always so in control, so driven by his insatiable hunger for success and wealth.

Romeo’s eyes flicked to you, his magenta irises flashing dangerously. His hand shot out, his fingers tightening around your wrist as he leaned forward, his voice low and unyielding. “You think I’m doing this for you? For anyone?” He let out a short, derisive laugh. “No. I’m doing this because I can. Because I have to.”

You didn’t pull away from his grip. It was firm, a reminder of how tightly he held everything in his life—his empire, his ambitions, even his emotions. You could see the strain in his jaw, the barely concealed rage flickering in the depths of his gaze.

“You can’t outrun your past, Fico,” you said softly, using the nickname he’d always insisted on. “You can’t keep punishing yourself like this. You deserve to enjoy something—just once.”

Romeo’s expression faltered, just for a second. It was as though your words had pierced through that armor of pride and defiance. His grip on your wrist loosened, and for a brief, almost imperceptible moment, the walls around him seemed to crack.

“I’m not like you,” he muttered, a rare admission slipping from his lips. “I can’t afford to be.”

You reached out, gently taking his hand. The warmth of your touch seemed to ground him in a way that nothing else had been able to. His eyes met yours, and for once, he didn’t look away, didn’t snap, didn’t rage. He simply stared, as if weighing the unspoken connection between the two of you.

“Maybe you can,” you said quietly, your voice a soft whisper in the midst of all the grandeur and extravagance. “Maybe you just need to let someone in.”

The air between you seemed to hum with something unspoken. He exhaled sharply, as if the weight of everything was momentarily too much to bear. For the first time in ages, Romeo Scorpius Lucci didn’t seem like the cold, calculating man who’d clawed his way to the top.

For a fleeting moment, he simply looked… human. And in that moment, something shifted between you both.

With a slow, almost reluctant movement, he picked up his fork, piercing a delicate slice of wagyu, before setting it back down with a soft sigh.

“Fine,” he muttered, his usual arrogance slipping back into his voice. “I’ll have a bite. But only because it’s my damn birthday.”

And for the first time that evening, you both shared a genuine laugh.

You couldn’t help but smile as Romeo finally took a bite of the wagyu, his eyes momentarily closing in appreciation. It wasn’t much—a small victory—but it was something. It was a crack in the armor, a rare moment where the walls around him seemed to crumble, just a little. And as he chewed slowly, his usual sharp gaze softened ever so slightly.

“You’re impossible, you know that?” you said, teasing him gently as you picked up your own fork. You couldn’t resist—he might be insufferable at times, but there was something undeniably magnetic about him. His stubbornness, his pride, even his scornful nature—everything about him was a puzzle that you couldn’t seem to put down.

Romeo's lips curled into that familiar smirk, but it was different now—less biting, more amused, like he was letting you in on some private joke only he understood.

“I’m not the one who’s impossible here,” he shot back, his tone still sharp but with a hint of warmth underneath. He leaned back in his chair, looking at you as though he were sizing you up, like you were the most intriguing thing in the room, despite the luxury that surrounded you both. His gaze lingered longer than it should have, as though he were trying to figure out why you, of all people, had the ability to disarm him so effortlessly.

You tilted your head, studying him in return. It wasn’t the first time you’d seen him so vulnerable, but it was the first time he’d let you see it without the walls of anger and pride. For all his bluster, Romeo was a man driven by a hunger that went deeper than money or power—it was something else. Something raw. Something broken.

“I don’t know what you’re playing at, Fico,” you said, leaning in slightly, your voice low and steady. “But you don’t have to keep pretending you’re some perfect machine, only running on fuel and ambition. You’re allowed to—”

“Stop.” He raised a hand, his voice firm but not hostile. There was a slight tremor in his fingers, a hint of something beneath the surface. "I don’t *need* anyone’s pity or concern."

You couldn’t help but chuckle at the defensiveness in his tone. “I’m not offering either of those. Just... maybe a little bit of understanding. Maybe I’m the one who’s trying to figure out the puzzle.”

Romeo stared at you, his magenta eyes gleaming in the low light, and for a moment, the world outside the restaurant seemed to fall away. It was just the two of you, in this little bubble of rich, warm air, surrounded by fine dining and too many untold stories.

“I don’t need understanding,” he muttered, though there was a softness to his words that didn’t match his usual fire. “I just need what’s mine. What’s owed to me.”

You nodded slowly, acknowledging the truth in his words. His relentless pursuit of what he had lost was something you couldn’t ignore. The dreams of grandeur that haunted him. You could see it now, clearer than before—the weight that crushed him. It wasn’t just about money, not really. It was about power, control, and reclaiming something he had once thought was within his grasp, only to watch it slip away.

"Then I guess that makes two of us," you said quietly, and for a second, you wondered if he understood the subtle implication.

Romeo didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he took another bite of the food, his lips pressing into a thin line as he chewed thoughtfully. His magenta eyes flicked up to meet yours once more, the tension between you thickening as the air seemed to charge with something unspoken.

“I’m not someone you should get close to, you know,” he finally said, his voice low and earnest, a trace of something vulnerable creeping into his tone. "I’m not the kind of person who lets anyone in."

You knew that already. You knew that better than anyone else. But you also knew something he didn’t seem to realize—that sometimes, letting someone in wasn’t about fixing the broken parts. Sometimes, it was just about *being* there, without the expectation of anything in return.

“And yet, here we are,” you said softly, offering him a wry smile. “Maybe you don’t have to let me in. Maybe I’m just here for the ride.”

For a moment, Romeo’s gaze flickered, like he was deciding whether to laugh or argue. Instead, he simply looked at you—really looked at you—and the tension between you seemed to soften, just a fraction. The walls that had always been so solid around him were starting to bend. You weren’t sure if they’d ever come down completely, but for now, this—this strange, tentative truce—was enough.

Romeo took another sip of wine, his posture returning to something more casual, almost like he was letting go of some of the weight that had been pressing down on him all evening. His magenta eyes softened, not in affection, but in a quiet understanding that he didn’t need to push you away. Not yet, at least.

“So,” he said, his voice returning to its usual cocky tone, “this is a fine meal, but I expect you to finish it all. It’s my birthday, after all. And I do have a reputation to maintain.”

You raised an eyebrow, amused despite yourself. "You *really* are impossible," you muttered, but there was a smile tugging at your lips that you couldn’t quite suppress.

Romeo’s lips quirked into a smirk, his eyes glinting mischievously. “You’ll get used to it. Eventually.”

And just like that, the moment passed, and the two of you fell back into the dance you knew all too well—his sharp remarks and your knowing smiles, the ever-present tension between you both. But now, there was something else there too. A hint of understanding. A crack in his façade. 

Maybe he didn’t need to admit it out loud. But for once, Romeo Scorpius Lucci wasn’t the terrifying, untouchable man he always tried to be. And maybe—just maybe—neither were you.

The rest of the evening passed in a strange, comfortable silence, punctuated only by the occasional teasing remark, the clinking of silverware, and the soft sound of laughter that lingered between you both. And for once, the glistening city outside didn’t feel so far away.

It felt, for the first time in a long time, like it was within reach.

Ao3 vers.

Please love Romi <3

[gabessquishytum]

My Little Mermaid

A Sandmankinktober Story!

This one was inspired by prompts Beach Sex and Hands and Monsterfucking. It's also a fill for A3 - The Little Mermaid on my Dreamling Bingo.

If you'd like to join in with Sandmankinktober you can find the prompts here!

Rating: Explicit. No major warnings apply. Monsterfucking, interspecies sex, inhuman appendages, public sex, undernegotiated kink.

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There's something under the pier.

The shadows blend the rotting wood into soft brown smudges. It's hard to see where the black water begins, and the black sand ends. It's dark down there, and cold. The sun doesn't reach far and the only brightness comes in the form of the salt, crusting on the foundations of the pier.

There's something very white and very still, lurking in the water. The flesh of it shines wetly when it breaches the surface. Long black hair snakes out into the sea, almost invisible in the darkness. Two large eyes bleakly survey the surroundings. They blink slowly in the pale white face. It's hard to tell the difference between boredom and hunger.

Mermaids are not pretty things. If you know anything about the deep, deep ocean, then you'll know that nothing pretty lives down there at all.

The long white body drifts close to the shore and grasps one of the pier's support beams with what could be described as a hand. Webbed tendrils, akin to fingers, sink into the rotten wood. The thing under the pier is three times the size of a human man, and infinitely stronger. It survives a pressure at the depths of the ocean that would squash a person flat. It prefers to eat its prey live and squirming.

“Hi, darling,” Hob Gadling cooes to the mermaid. He comes clattering down to the shore, tripping over his own feet in his haste. “Did you miss me? I know, I know, I'm late. Traffic was a nightmare.”

A faint, watery hum emits from the mouth of the creature as it lifts head and shoulders out of the water. It makes Hob look like a child's doll as it leans over him. Very delicately as though it has been practicing, it places a kiss on Hob’s forehead with a soft sucking sound.

Less delicately, it lifts a tendril-like finger and wiggles it down the back of Hob’s beach shorts. There's another wet noise as the appendage slips between his arsecheeks and immediately enters his hole.

Hob makes a remarkably restrained shriek and grabs a handful of his assailant's bedraggled hair. “Dream! That is NOT how we say hello on land. Gahhh.”

His protests die out into a series of whines and pathetic keening sounds, as his knees buckle. He falls into the shallows, face down, but Dream is kind enough to keep him from inhaling a lungful of seawater. Instead Hob finds another tendril in his mouth. He can only breathe through his nose and suck desperately on the appendage while Dream chuckles wetly above him.

The finger in his arse is like jelly, like seaweed, and like glass. It finds his prostate with alarming ease and begins to torture it, pressing and massaging, bullying and soothing the nerves until Hob is almost sick with the overwhelming arousal. The finger in his mouth pulls on his tongue and runs over his teeth in a way that feels almost condescending. 

Hob doesn't even particularly want to cum, face down underneath the pier with sand in his eyes. But then again he has a distinct feeling that he might die, if Dream doesn't make him cum. The dichotomy is far too baffling to dwell on. Fortunately, Dream presses one finger tight against Hob’s prostate, and the other to the back of his throat. He has no choice in the matter, and he cums in his shorts – before he even has time to enjoy it, another one of Dream’s appendages is fishing around and somehow slurping the cum directly from the slit of his cock.

Dream makes another damp humming sound that might be approval. Very carefully he sets Hob upright on the driest part of the sand, and presses another strange sucking kiss to the top of his head. Hob gazes up at him, still dazed. He lazily twists a few strands of the long wet hair around his fingers.

“We really do need to work on our communication,” he sighs. His voice is a little hoarse, but the salt water will ease it. Dream may be a deep sea monster, but he's full of little surprises, like the perfect sore throat remedy. “But I can't exactly complain about that, can I?”

The thing under the pier spreads its teeth into a big smile.