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gyuswhore · 7 days

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Statistically Speaking...

part of the svt TA collab

kim mingyu x reader

word count: 21k

contains: TA! mingyu, fluff, smut [minors DNI], angst, statistics, ur honour they're stupid for one another, descriptions of stress exhaustion and burnout, academic burden, disagreements, mingyu is smart as hell, shitting on bad professors, smut but its a surprise [gyu gets his soul sucked while he's reciting statistical models I mean what]

words of conviction from @highvern: Kim Mingyu, total asshole , 1-800-HOT N DUMB , THEYRE IN LOVE MINGYU SHUT THE FUCK UP YOU LOSER , sick fucking freak , i know when you wrote this you put your head in your hands , OHHHM YW GOD

synopsis: In all your years of academic endurance, you’ve never failed. A 100% success rate, despite you cutting it close at times. However, the line graph that is your life starts tanking somewhere around the time you began taking this hellsent Statistics in Psychological Research class. With a professor that wouldn’t know his ass from his head, and an overworked, overenthusiastic, and overcaptivating TA, it couldn't possibly get any worse than this. However, statistically speaking,…it could.

[a/n]: this fic is set in the same universe as @highvern's wonu fic endpoint [to be released], some insight for wonu's pov is included here as is some of Mingyu's pov in cam's fic if you'd like to see more about what happens in the gaps!!

I want to start by thanking everyone who chose to be part of this collab fic and for being the reason cam and I were able to open up @camandemstudios in the first place. everyone's been so kind and cooperative and I still cant believe we managed to convince such amazing writers to join us on this collab journey 🥹 I love u guys

Thanking my wife camothy @highvern for brainstorming with me since day one and for betaing for me. @seokgyuu and @miabebe for also looking over the doc and reassuring me. I'm for sure forgetting someone and I'm really sorry about that, know that I appreciate you just as much 🤍

on that note, I hope you guys enjoy this fic, im HELLA nervous for some reason so plsplspls remember to reblog and send me feedback on how you liked it, I will love you forever <333

masterlist

Monday

A normal person would’ve cried. Perhaps even sued the entire institution for all it was worth. Burn down the world, if it came to it.

But as you stare at the tiny 37/100 on your screen, you feel…nothing.

You could’ve said you saw it coming, which you did, but something about blaming someone else for an exam you took was beginning to feel a little manipulative.

Clicking off the student portal, you huff loudly, five in the morning too early for you to begin breaking down over a grade that was completely unreflective of what you were taught.

Or maybe it was, because as you count one, two, three hours till your dreaded Statistics in Psychological Research class, you can only hope you’ll hold back from spitting in your professor’s coffee. But alas, you can only shut your laptop harder than necessary for what it costs and push the grade out of your mind.

You were tired enough to sleep for a couple more hours, and you take it as an opportunity to spite the entire course by giving just as many fucks as your professor did.

Which was little to none.

That was a lie—on your part anyway. Because you continue to show up, and probably will until you can put this course and all of its trauma behind you. Even now as you feel the inclining beat of your pulse sitting in the white lecture hall, you know this is all but you versus the universe.

Dr. Cho might as well have wheeled himself into the room on a skateboard with the way he struts into the room.

He’s wearing a denim jacket with the sleeves cut off and jeans of a matching finish that do not fit him properly. There’s pins in every last colour on this earth, littering the front of his jacket with sayings that toe the silver controversial lining. There was one that said Vote for John F. Kennedy, another plain black one with I Eat Kids, and of course, the blaring Cunt written in cursive, pink sparkly letters.

This man that’s pushing into his 60s stands before his slightly wilted class in his crocs, hands on his hips as he heaves a long breath.

“I have to say, not the turn out I was expecting on that last report.”

He’s talking about the report you coincidentally failed, the same one you were pushed into with little to no direction and a deadline tighter than any you’ve had to bully yourself through.

“All I can say is to read through the feedback I’ve given and try a little harder next time.” His voice is somewhere bordering comical exasperation. Feedback that consisted of sparing ‘?’’s and ‘no’’s with zero further explanation. He could say more, but you’ve learned that he simply chooses to not.

Besides the man that drones in the front of the room, there’s another person in the other corner of the lecture hall. He’s hunched over a giant pile of papers, sifting through each and every one with a pen in his other hand.

The TA doing a mundane task is somehow more interesting than whatever seminars of disappointment your professor was giving. He’s crossing something out on every single leaf of paper that he flicks through, and you vaguely wonder if those were today’s worksheets.

“...and post hoc tests last week, we can start on Bayesian today. Mingyu will be handing out the tutorial papers.”

The poor TA looks like he thought he’d have more time, snapping his head up to look at the professor with an expression of pure incredulousness. He staggers for a moment before he’s flicking past the pages even faster somehow, striking out what seems like the same instruction in the giant pile of papers meant for an entire lecture hall. There’s a rustle as about a hundred laptops are being pulled out and booted up, waiting for the worksheets to land on the desks.

You hear the familiar warble of papers being passed out and you watch as the TA pulls chunks of sheets out of the giant stack in his arms to slam down onto the front tables.

“Pass it down, please… pass it down, please…”

There’s a voice that calls from one of the front seats, “What formula is the sheet talking about?”

Mingyu looks startled as he snaps back to look at the blaring empty whiteboard. In the midst of passing papers, you watch him sprint to the rolling whiteboards, pulling one of the giant flats of white over to the other side, the mechanism slamming into place with a louder than comfortable slam. It reveals another whiteboard underneath with the detestably long formula already written (and the one you’d have to figure out yourself).

The professor remains with his chin in his hands behind his laptop, unphased.

By the time you’ve registered the foreign symbols on the board, one of the tutorial papers has made it into your hands.

Sure enough, there’s a quick line across one of the steps with a thick black marker.

Blinking hard, you attempt to pull yourself into the zone, staring at the white sheet with words that are barely stringing themselves together. Nothing out of the ordinary, especially as you lift your head to find hunched shoulders and furrowed brows all around.

There’s one person that’s zipping back and forth, just like there always is.

You watch as Mingyu hunches over certain laptops and whispers in rapid explanation before moving on to the next, a looming sense of dizziness that trails behind him as he shoots up the stairs to the back rows to help someone else.

There’s a brief consideration to raise your own hand to ask for help, but one look at his disoriented gaze and the amount of hands that shoot up by the second, you guess it wasn’t going to help.

Back you go, hunched over the same wretched paper as everyone else, and praying for some divine revelation.

Tuesday

Divine revelation did not come to you, but the good sense to make use of office hours did.

So here you are, a printed copy of your supposedly horrid assignment and a pack of multicolour pens in your tote, and determination in your stride, you make your way to the department building.

You’ve double, triple, quadruple checked the times to ensure you don’t dip in at the wrong moment, swiping open your phone to re-check the room number yet again.

Standing outside the door, you knock with mustered confidence, waiting for something akin to an affirmative from the other side of the door.

Nothing.

You knock again.

Silence.

You glance around the empty hall before grasping onto the cool brass handle of the door, wrenching it open just a peep. Poking your head in, you find the room…empty.

The chairs and tables that usually buzz with discussing students lay barren as you step into the room. Moving to look at the front of the room, you inhale sharply as you realise the professor’s desk has been occupied this entire time.

Except he’s asleep.

No, that’s not the professor.

Moving closer, you watch the way his back rises and falls ever so slowly, head resting on his arm as his hand hangs limp off the table. Whipping your head around with more attention this time, you attempt to find an explanation written on the walls. But there’s none, even in the papers that litter the table he rests his head on.

You don’t need to see his face to know it’s the TA. But as you stand in the empty room, clutching the straps of your tote, you aren’t quite sure what to do.

Another glance around the table and you realise his laptop remains on, the screen yet to sleep. Before the obvious issue of a blatant invasion of privacy can befall you, you take a step forward to take a peek.

It’s his schedule, a million colours blaring on the screen in a colour coded regard with barely any white spaces. It doesn’t take long to find his time slot for right now, red with importance.

Glancing down, the man remains fast asleep, pen still in hand as it inks a faint line on the page. You look around the room for the nth time, taking constant glances back at his laptop that tells you he’s actively missing something right now. Clearing your throat, you hunch over a tad bit.

“Um, excuse me.” He hardly moves. So you try a little louder, hunching over his sleeping form even further. “Excuse me.”

You could’ve sworn you heard a snore.

Out of instinct, you bring a hand forward to his shoulder, shaking ever so slightly as you call for him again. “Excuse me!”

There’s a sharp inhale and he shoots up quicker than you can back away, ensuring you get an entire back’s worth of force as he bumps into you, hard.

“Wh–ow!” The noise is collective, yelps and thuds as you both back away from each other.

“W–what’re you doing here?” he asks, hair still ruffled and eyes barely open as he stands at the table. There’s a bright yellow sticky note on his right cheek, ink scribbled on in something you can’t decipher.

“Um, it’s office—”

His eyes land on the same screen you were peering into just before and it looks like his life flashes before his eyes, widening at the sight as he slams around the table looking for something.

“I have to go,” he announces, gripping onto an unstrapped watch as he registers the time, his other hand shoving his laptop and a few papers into a dark messenger bag.

“Wait, isn’t it still office hours?” you call out as he whizzes past you.

He’s swinging his bag over his shoulder and half tripping to the door as he calls out, “Wednesdays and Thursdays.”

“But—”

“It’s on the portal.”

“No it’s not.”

“Yes it—” he pauses as he exhales loudly, closing his eyes and bringing a hand to rub across his tired face. “I’ll double check. But it’s Wednesdays and Thursdays from now on. You can wait till I get back if you really want help.”

“How—”

A loud slam! of the door.

“—long…”

You’re left draped in silence yet again, the echoes of the slammed door ringing in your startled ears. It all happened too fast for you to process, blinking rapidly as you registered that you were now alone in the room.

He said he’d be back, but left you with no indication as to when. By the looks of his god awful schedule, it looked like he had something else to attend to right after whatever it was he buggered off to right now.

Fingers clenched into a fist, you consider your options. You could wait, sit on one of the desks and try to get some work done until he gets back.

The universe gives you your answer as the door opens with a loud creak in the empty lecture hall. It’s another professor who looks quite startled to find an overenthusiastic student already present for class.

She stares before craning to look at the room number outside the door, “Am I in the right room?”

“Uh, yes! I was just leaving,” you buffer out, moving to shuffle out immediately.

You’re halfway out the door when you hear another call of an “Excuse me!”

“Are these your papers?” The professor’s full arms are up as she gestures to the still littered table.

The No is ready on your lips. Until it isn’t.

Later on, you’d consider how you left that room with an armful of papers that did not belong to you. How you’d ducked under the table to ensure you’d gotten everything, down to the leather strap watch with the cracked clock face.

But as you stare at the stack of files and sheets that lay on your desk at home, you only know of the decent act that you’d committed.

And nothing of the hourglass you’d just turned over.

Wednesday

In your Sent box are three emails sent on three separate days, all asking the same recurring question, all responding with the same recurring reply.

I wanted to confirm the days and times for office hours. I’m aware it’s on the portal but I’d like to reconfirm.

Regards, YN

Dear YN,

Wednesdays and Thursdays. 4 to 6 PM.

Kim Mingyu, T.A.

So there you were on a Wednesday afternoon, 3:59 PM sharp, outside the lecture hall where office hours have always been. With the same tote hung on your shoulders, with the same printed assignment and pack of multicolour pens, and a separated stack of files and folders, you wrench the door open with bated breath.

The blended murmur of the usual hustle and bustle of the appointment reassures you first, the sight of scattered students of familiar faces reassures you second. And most of all, a conscious TA that sits at the professor’s desk, speaking to another student over a laptop screen.

The man does nothing to acknowledge your arrival, continuing above the babble of students that occupy the chairs and the discussion. It isn’t too full, but considerably busy nonetheless despite how early you’ve swooped in.

There’s a brief consideration whether this was in the TA’s job description at all, craning your neck to take a full sweep of the room to find a sparing glimpse of the man who should be here. The professor and his loud fashion choices are nowhere to be found.

The sigh you let out is heavy and full of an emotion you cannot possibly begin to unpack, taking a seat on one of the unoccupied chairs to slump against. Shoulders sagging, you feel every fibre of your being screaming against your better judgement to pull out some work and to be productive while you wait. Reading over your failed assignment for the nth time, the same one that seemed to be some sick form of rage bait.

You pull a couple things out so as to not look awkward sitting and staring into nothing on an empty desk, uncapping your pen and pulling up your sleeves like there was business to be done. Which there was, but none of which you wished to entertain.

People watching, you realise, is a lot easier when most of the room is preoccupied with whatever it is they’re doing, too busy to notice your blank stares.

The faces are familiar, none of which are people you’ve interacted with before but classmates nonetheless. The room is full of shaking legs, spinning pens and hunched backs, not an un-scrunched brow in sight. There’s a particular gaggle of girls somewhere around the front, their tables suggesting a work environment but between the whispers, giggles and glances to the front of the room, you assume there’s one thing in common the both of you weren’t doing.

Speaking of the front of the room, your matched glance finds you face to face with the student at the main table in the middle of pushing himself off his seat. Your reaction is immediate, hand coming over to slam against the flat of your bag to find the lost straps, moving out of your seat as you keep your eyes on the front of the room.

Bad luck must be a lover, because you realise quickly that somebody’s already beat you to it. Before you even noticed the first’s intentions to. The student stands beside the chair ready to keep it warm as the previous occupant leaves.

Slamming back down on your own seat, you realise very quickly that trying to get an audience with this TA was going to be harder than you anticipated. There’s multiple other sounds of frustration around the room, and you doubt the slowly increasing pool of students was going to help anyone’s time management.

Realising you needed to be a little more tactical if you didn’t want to sit here for the next month and half, you find an empty spot near the gaggle of girls you’d noticed before. It was right up front, just enough for you to hear when the conversation would begin to conclude at the main table.

Once again, the TA doesn’t seem to notice any of the hustle and bustle of the room as his mouth continues to move rapidly, eyes on the question as he invests himself in his explanation.

It was unfortunate that the only remaining seat was right next to the louder than necessary group, but you take it as a blessing anyway. It’s then that the one right next to you turns to stage-whisper to you.

“Are you here to see him?”

You don’t expect a conversation, ears straining to eavesdrop on the other conversation in front of you to find your cue. You snap to look at her in surprise. “Pardon?”

“Are you here to see him? Mingyu?”

“Uh—” Wasn’t everybody? “Yeah, I had a couple things I wanted to clear out.”

The revelation makes her shoulders drop as she lets out a loud sigh, “God, I can never get anything this professor says. I've been here nearly every week trying to figure it all out.”

“Yeah he’s a bit…unorthodox.”

“He’s unorthodox too.” She looks over to the main table towards the TA, chin in her hands as she gazes. “A face like that is rare.”

It wasn’t that she was wrong, it didn’t take more than a glance to convince yourself that Mingyu was possibly one of the more attractive people you’d meet in your lifetime. But the appeal lasted for all of five minutes for you, flitting away when you noticed that he dragged along a very…overwrought… suggestion wherever he went.

It was clear he was stressed seemingly all year round, nearly just as relaxed as your professor seemed to be.

But Mingyu was attractive. And you realise how much of a fool you’d sound if you admitted to anything other than such.

“It is. His willpower’s somehow even rarer,” you add. “Don’t know how he does it.”

“God, tell me about it. Forget getting his number, trying to have more than a three sentence exchange with him without some statistical nonsense involved is near impossible.” Her face has fallen, a tight little frown on her face as she irritates herself with some other memory.

Taking a glance down at her notes, you find the printed sheet littered with glitter gel pen ink lining the edges, doodles of stars and hearts and small anime characters next to p values and z scores.

There’s a distinct sound of a chair screeching, and it’s like a large GAME OVER sign is hanging above your head.

You jerk in your seat, like you could jump over the table and land in the emptying seat with some god-given stroke of luck, like the person already standing next to the chair wouldn’t hold a lifelong grudge against the insane girl with an unnatural acclimation to statistics.

Although, nothing was more unnatural than the way this TA seemed to know more than the professor. Or you were just really behind.

Alas, you don’t tumble over the table or kick back your chair, merely making a forceful motion in your seat, palms itching terribly as you watch the girl with her open laptop balanced in her arms move to take a seat.

You were preoccupied, hence you do not notice that the TA has also noticed you.

Suddenly, the girl looks startled as she’s told to wait.

“She’s been waiting nearly a week, I really hope you don’t mind,” you hear him say, voice strained as you turn to look at him. His hands are outstretched to motion towards you a few feet across from him.

For whatever reason, you had no thought that he might’ve remembered you. Something about his half asleep state when he’d spoken to you, perhaps he might’ve thought he dreamt it. Or he’d just forgotten it altogether.

The girl glances at you, and her shoulders sag a little as she nods in formality.

“Thank you.”

It comes out of both of you, snapping to look at each other hardly a moment as you go back to smiling at the retreating student.

“You can come right after her,” he reassures, his own upturned mouth tired and fading.

Never have you felt more awkward trying to come around the elongated student tables.

You pause at first, staring at the table in front of you like it was worth trying to climb over or even crawl under it to get to the desk. Another moment of eye contact as he stares at your unmoving form with a blank look, and the heat pools your skin.

Staggering for a moment, you end up moving past your chair and walking the way round anyway, the screeching of the chairs only nurturing the existing budding humiliation for no apparent reason.

It only gets worse when you sit across from him finally, backside barely touching the plastic before realising you’d forgotten your bag in your seat.

Mid smile in a timid greeting when you make a sound resembling something of an “Oh!” as you spring back up immediately. It’s easier to reach for your bag over the table you were sitting on, reaching across to grab it off your vacated seat.

The girl you were sitting next to just before makes a motion like she’s trying to help and you have to remind yourself to smile at her as you retreat.

Mingyu has the very beginnings of an amused expression on his face once you’ve finally made yourself comfortable across from him, clearing your throat just for something to do.

“Right. How can I help you?”

Pulling out your printed assignment, you bring out the sheets of stapled paper to the centre of the table, writing facing him.

One look at the sparse format of the cover page, he blows a full mouth of air at the sight of recognition. Without you having to say a thing, he flicks to the very last page, finding the rubric printed on a separate page.

“It’s a 37,” you inform him like he couldn’t see the bold 37/100 in the bottom Total cell.

“Do you think you deserved a better grade?” he asks. It would have sounded direct, an accusation even. But he asks with an intonation of genuinity, like he actually wanted to know.

It stumps you regardless.

“Well…I know I can do better, at least,” you decide to answer.

“You’re here, which means you’re at least willing to try. That’s a start,” he murmurs. His eyes are laser focused on the sheet beneath him, holding it open as his eyes move faster across the page than you can keep up with. Somehow talking to you while taking in the words on the paper.

“I remember marking this,” he says, looking up to address you. “Your concepts are nearly there, but your structure and presentation was off.”

“You marked them?”

He raises his brow, “I hope that wasn’t an accusation. I need to stick to the rubric.”

“I thought the professor marked the lab reports.”

“He’s…supposed to.” There’s a forced reservedness in his voice. “I mark them and he puts in his comments if he has any. But I’m not sure you’d fare any better than this if it was him behind that pen either.”

Every question that floated in memorisation, from the form and structure, to the nitty gritties of the data presentation, all evaporate as you realise you’re at a loss for words.

Even more embarrassingly, you feel tears prick the back of your eyes. You don’t have an explanation, but it’s somehow easier to feel helpless in front of the man that’s meant to help you. “I don’t know what to do anymore.”

“That’s alright,” he says as reassurance, though it sounds awfully rehearsed. Like he has to say it everyday. “We’ll work through it.”

He lets out a big sigh, adjusting in his chair and running a hand through his hair. The motion has you noticing the dishevelled nature of the mop on his head, un-uniformed and sticking out at certain places, yet still somehow cohesive with his look. His shoulders are straight and taut, fingers working as they fiddle and flick the pen in his hand.

Despite it all, his shirt is ruffled and creased, unbuttoned at the first couple steps. The buttons are misaligned, one side of his collar higher on his neck than the other. It takes an effort to not reach over and fix it for him.

“Lab reports can be quite tricky if you aren’t sure what you’re doing. Did you refer to the tutorial?”

You mean the one that did nothing to help? “Yes.”

“You got those bits right, format and whatnot. But—”

“It was a lump of writing about subheadings and word counts,” you say plainly.

Mingyu lips are in a tight line. “Well, yes, but it helps—”

“I know the results are supposed to go in the results section. I don’t need a PDF to tell me that,” you cut him off. Your voice is reserved, and you hope it comes off as a point across and not a complaint. Although it was a complaint. “I want to know why the entire section was ruled off as incorrect when we were never properly taught how to write it in the first place.”

“Dr. Cho—”

“Is no help.”

“I understand—”

“He can’t even mark his own papers. I’m quite sure that’s not in your job description. It’s supposed to be him here. Not you.”

It’s silent. There was nothing in your voice that suggested you wished to pick a fight, on the contrary, quite calm and matter of fact. Mingyu’s fingernails are going white as his grip on his pen and paper grow stronger.

“And yet, we continue to show up. Because we do what we must.” He raises his head in control, a small smile on his face, eyebrows unnaturally raised. “And, better that I’m here rather than no one at all. I can help you too.”

Help, he did.

Mingyu had made it quite clear his time with you was limited, but by the end of the near 25 minute session, nearly every inch of your printed assignment was covered in a rainbow of notes and corrections, additional papers and post-it notes pasted on the back as you remain careful to not lose them as you slip the stack in your bag.

You only remember when you spot the segregated file of papers in your bag.

“I almost forgot,” you say, slipping the files and tidbits out and in front of him.

“Where did you find this?” he asks sharply, eyes widening as sees the familiar blue.

“You left them at the desk of the lecture hall last week,” you say, before quickly adding, “There was a class right after you left. I took them off the professor’s hands before they got lost. Thought it might be important.”

“I’ve been looking all over for these,” he says as he goes through the pages and files. Random sticky tabs and highlighted regions across the pages. The leather strap watch with the broken clock face remains on top, and he picks it up. He looks up to you with wide, sparkling eyes and a smile that feels genuine. “Thank you.”

You flush for some reason, “O–of course, couldn’t just leave them there.”

Pausing, you wonder if you should make the next comment, the words tumbling out before you can make a decision. “Maybe don’t run out of rooms still half asleep.”

By the grace of God, he laughs, “No, you’re right. I should be careful.”

It isn’t till you’re pushing yourself out of your chair that he continues. “You can come in at 3:30 tomorrow.”

“Pardon?”

He’s stood up as well. “I have a free thirty minutes before office hours formally start. I can help you out a little more without the crowd.”

Feet planted on the ground, there’s not much you can do but stare. “Um, sure. I can come in a little early.”

He nods casually, “Thanks again for the papers. And the watch.”

You smile, “No problem.”

Thursday

True to your punctual nature, you make yourself known at exactly 3:29 PM.

Mingyu is at the desk, conscious and on the phone, eyes closed as he rests his face on his fist.

“I don’t know if I can make time for that—no, I understand, sir,”

Another pause as the noise from his speakers fill his ears, his rubbing over his face a little harsher than you doubt he’s entirely comfortable with.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

His phone hits the table with a heartbreaking thud, both hands covering his face as he presses the heels of his hands to his eyes.

“Light on your feet or something? I can never tell when you come in,” he startles when he notices you.

Sheepish smile on your face, you move to sit down. “Sorry.”

You know it’s invasive, and you also know you might be asking him to break some unknown university code of conduct, but curiosity takes charge as you ask a casual question. “Important call?”

“Uh, yeah, um, just work stuff,” he states, shaking his head swiftly like he’s trying to shake the thought out of his mind.

There’s a pause while you're slipping your papers and laptop out of your bag, during which he seems to have decided to divulge a little more.

“It was Dr. Cho. More stuff for me to do,” he says. “As always.”

“Does he do anything other than show up to class?” you ask through a snort.

“Of course he does. He cusses out every article he doesn’t agree with, is anything but objective and…the occasional relay of blatant misinformation.”

For the record, you’d never really heard Mingyu speak at all for the months he’d been TA-ing for the semester. It was small whispers of choice words in a vague voice, the distant murmur as he exchanged with the professor too far for you to hear.

The voice of the seemingly quiet and diligent TA was never known to you, not until yesterday as he explained statistical models and the flaws of your data presentation.

Passionately too. Incredulous for a discipline so dry and unapproachable.

That being said, something about the grit in his voice as he positively sneered through his teeth, badmouthing his professor—it was something you couldn’t quite believe he was capable of.

“I’m sorry you have to put up with him.”

Once again, by whatever stone of tolerance the universe bestowed in his heart, you watch him sigh and smile, “Anything for that recommendation. And the pay too, I suppose. Besides, he’s done a lot for the area, can’t discredit him entirely.”

With your eyebrows raised, he seems to catch your expression. He pants out a laugh, and your stomach lurches as you watch it reach his eyes, teeth on display, a lurch in his chest; a true laugh.

Raising his hands in surrender, he responds, “I’m stuck.”

There’s nothing you can do to stop the smile that reaches your own face, turning your laptop screen towards him with the JASP software display. “I am too. Help.”

Help, he does.

Monday

Mingyu ended up giving you an entire hour on that Thursday.

The thirty minutes before office hours began soared by like they were nothing, and you were ready to take your leave the minute students began to scatter in as the clock hit a swift four. Except he kept going, another 30 minutes in deep concentration as he retaught you nearly everything from scratch.

Perhaps his proven determination to ensure you don’t tragically fail is what prompted you to do this, standing at the till of your regular coffee shop as you ask, “Make that two, please.”

It might also be important to mention the 7:30 AM on the dial on a bright Monday morning as you walked into your slightly less dreaded Statistics in Psychological Research class, knowing there would only be one other person insane enough to get to the lecture hall this early.

Something isn’t right.

Mingyu is in a position all too familiar to you and everyone else who shares this class, hunched over something or the other in deep focus. The sun pours in through the lifted blinds, the lights of the class turned off as natural light does more than enough of the job.

It also shows you a blaring hot pink post-it note on his face, all too familiar to a previous interaction you’ve had with him.

He notices you before you need to announce yourself, brows separating as he recognises you in the doorway. “‘Morning!”

“...Morning.”

“You’re early,” he comments, straightening his back with a hand behind him for support as you approach.

“Figured we both needed this,” you hand him a tray with his cup of coffee, eyes still trained on his lower cheek with the paper stuck to it. “It’s a latte with no sugar, but I added a couple packets on the side anyway. Just in case.”

“O–oh, thank you. And you’re right I did need this.”

Now that you’re closer, the scrawled writing on the post-it note is clearer.

To Do:

Call mom

Shoot myself

“You, um—” It’s alarmingly difficult for you to say it, despite the words being so simple. Hey! You got a lil’ something on your face.

But all you do is dumbly point to your own cheek, eyes trained on the loud piece of paper that tells more than he might like the world to know.

There’s a loud slap of his hand on his own cheek as he crumples the paper in his hands, bringing it forward to see. “For fuck’s sake.”

“It’s okay! I wanna…shoot myself too sometimes.”

What the fuck?

“I mean!” you correct louder than you anticipated, before covering with a laugh. “It’s okay, it happens. Good thing I caught it before someone else did.”

It’s all the more petrifying when your voice echoes across the blatantly empty lecture hall, reverberating like it was a punishment for you and your horrid lack of volume control. Meeting his eyes feels like a sin right now, so you keep them downcast and pray he doesn’t try to sabotage your education.

“Good thing it was just you. Yeah.”

Just you.

“Anyways, I think I’m done with prepping for class. Do you wanna squeeze in twenty minutes of ANOVA?”

“Have you seen the time?”

“Not a morning person?”

“Nope!”

“And yet it’s 7:40 on a Monday morning and you’re absurdly early.” His brows are raised as he pulls around the professor's chair to bring it to you.

“Do you want the coffee or not?” you ask, watching as he drags another chair for himself.

The both of you sit away from the professors table, coffees in hand as you watch Mingyu run a hand through his hair.

He gives you a crooked grin,“I apologise.”

“To be fair,” he continues. “I’m not much of a morning person either.”

You narrow your eyes the slightest bit as Mingyu takes a sip of his unsweetened coffee, “I’m starting to think no money’s worth this job.”

Mingyu snorts, coffee suspended in his full cheeks. He swallows with much difficulty before answering, “You’re right. Not sure why I’m still here either. I could get an offer from another professor.”

“And that isn’t happening because…?”

Elbows on his knees, Mingyu swirls his capless coffee cup, the beige liquid moving in a growing tornado. “I like Dr. Cho.”

“You—”

“I know,” he laughs loud, a deep, echoing sound that shakes in your ears. “I know. I sound like a lunatic.”

“I don’t know about lunacy, but insanity can have its reasons.”

“Another would argue that insanity was the very absence of reason.”

“Don’t get smart with me.”

“Excuse me for doing my job.”

He takes another sip of his coffee, and you ask again, “No, but really. I can’t imagine this man having too many redeeming qualities as an educator.”

Mingyu lifts his chin as he presses his lips together. “When I was in my first year, there was this other class I had where we had to write a lab report for the first time.”

“PSYCH101?”

“That’s the one. I’d never written one before, but I liked statistics enough to do a little more digging than what the assignment called for. I ended up finding one of Dr. Cho’s studies, read the entire thing, word for word. I was up all night reading nearly everything he’d published, some of ‘em before any of us were even born.”

“Oh. So you’re a fan.”

“Everyone tells you to never meet your idols,” he snickers. “He’s done amazing things, but I guess he pays for it with his flawed personality.”

“I’m sorry it had to be you,” you half joke.

Mingyu looks at you sheepishly, “That might also be my own fault.”

“Don’t tell me you offered.”

“I might as well have. All my assignments referenced his work the most. I was always talking to him about upcoming research after class, and it was like he was a different person. Forget differing opinions, some of what he was saying was just…plain incorrect. He welcomed the argument though, and I couldn’t—can’t—stand listening to someone spew nonsense when I know it’s not true. He was always emailing me extra resources which…I’m pretty sure he isn’t supposed to do. Only reason I did so well in his class was because I taught myself.”

He sighs a loud sigh, straightening his back, “I guess he liked me more than I thought, because next thing I know I’m getting a call over the summer telling me I have a job.”

“Did he…have a TA when you were in his class?”

“Four.”

“Four?!”

“Two at a time. All of ‘em quit at some point. Said they didn’t want the recommendation or the pay.”

“Would he…not give you a recommendation anyway? You said he liked you.”

Mingyu shakes his head solemnly, “He’s a tough cookie, everyone in the field knows that. If you’ve impressed him, you’ve impressed everyone.”

You take a moment to really absorb everything you’ve just learned. “That’s a sucky position you’re in.”

“Tell me about it. But it’s okay. Three—three and a half more months to go? This isn’t even the worst of it, I’m just dreading study week when I’m gonna have to handle all the crying.”

You wince as he mentions something even remotely close to exam season, still barely at a stage where you can accept you’d be alright with this class.

“I know you’re not nearly as qualified or experienced as him, but I think you could take over his class.”

“Ever heard of barriers to entry? I’d be ruined if I wanted a career in this.”

You roll your eyes playfully, “All I’m saying is I’ve learned more from you in barely a couple hours combined than the last two months I’ve spent cursing this very lecture hall.”

If you weren’t lying to yourself, you could’ve sworn you saw a blush creep up his face, and paired with his shy laugh and hand at the back of his neck, you can’t help but bite back your own smile.

“If I can help you then it’s worth losing myself.”

Your heart is in your fucking throat.

“I’m glad when students tell me that,” he continues, utterly oblivious to the landslide happening in your digestive tract. “Makes me feel like I’m doing something right.”

“You’re—” you swallow thickly because you sound like a toad. “You’re doing more than just something right. You’re saving us therapy and an extra semester.”

He laughs at that, and you wish he’d let you breathe.

“Feels like I’m doing something wrong sometimes,” he huffs. “My friend’s a TA too and he’s got himself a girlfriend on top of everything else he’s got going on.”

He goes on, “Do you know how many times I need to ask people to quit twirling their hair? To look at the page and not my face? Asking for my number, I have an email for a reason, for fuck’s sake—”

Mingyu is cut off because you’re laughing, hand to mouth as your shoulders shake through your sniggering. “W–what?”

“I’m sorry,” you hiccup. “It’s just…It sounds like you don’t know what you look like.”

“What’s wrong with how I look?” he frowns.

“Nothing!” you exclaim. “But that’s the problem isn’t it.”

Mingyu doesn’t seem to buy it, even through your coaxing as you attempt to explain to him that he is, in fact, desirable.

“Can’t possibly be enough to distract people,” he huffs in earnest, still hung up on the students he can’t get through to.

“Majority of the class would beg to differ.”

There’s a pause as he registers what you imply.

After a few moments, he drops his head, opening his mouth, “Would… you also—”

There’s a loud creak of the door as you hear the immediate noises of shuffling feet and chattering mouths, as low and tired as they sounded. Turning back to look at Mingyu, he’s already jumped out of his seat, wrist to face as he checks the time on the same leather strap watch you returned.

“That’s our cue,” you breathe, pushing your chair back behind the professor’s desk as you manoeuvre around Mingyu who’s suddenly frantic.

Of course you realise there’s people other than just the two of you in the room, heightened in seats that are designed to ensure they can absorb every detail that goes on right where you stand in the front of the room.

But you feel the soft of Mingyu’s shirt over his wrist as you give him a gentle squeeze despite it all, barely enough pressure. Half your index finger brushes the skin of his hand, just enough to register how cold your fingertips are and how warm his body is.

“Relax,” you whisper. “You’ll be better off without all the panic.”

You don’t see his face as you brush past him and up to your seat, looking up to see him disappear somewhere in the corner hunched over another stack of papers. The next time you see Mingyu’s face is when the professor arrives and has begun his regularly scheduled tomfoolery, and realise all the age that can accumulate in the span of five minutes.

Thursday

Midterm season is nothing you’ve ever really had to worry about.

Something about the halfway point did make it obvious that the clock was ticking, but danger was far enough away to prevent the ultimate breakdowns reserved for the peak seasons.

Except this class isn’t ordinary, and it’s all you’re able to worry about all semester. And as Dr. Cho in his Thrasher vest announces the date for the in class midterm, the glass once half empty, suddenly looks very half full.

“I’m not ready.”

“You’re more ready than anyone else in class.”

“How do you know that?”

Mingyu stares at you blankly, “If I don’t know that, then who else does?”

You have tears in your eyes, which is embarrassing enough since this is the second time you’ve teared up in front of him, but also because you’re in a library following Mingyu around like a lost duck because he insists on putting the books he borrowed back onto the shelves himself after registering the return.

“But I don’t feel like I’m ready,” you whine, turning the corner as he searches for the last spot to place his final book.

“You’ll realise just how ready you are when all those hieroglyphs on the page start to make sense to you,” he grunts the last bit out as he reaches on his tippy toes to shove the book back up.

Dusting his hands off, he adjusts his shirt before turning to you, “You only feel that way because I’ve been giving you harder problems to work on. You’re past the level you need to be at right now. Trust me, you’re more than prepared.”

“But—”

“Listen,” he waves to the librarian as you both leave the library, your eyes still glistening as you fiddle with your sleeves. “It’s only the midterm—”

“Only the—”

“If this goes wrong, I’m just gonna have to work you harder for the real thing. Even though I know it won’t go wrong because I said so.”

You fall into silence as he walks you towards the coffee shop across the courtyard.

“I’m assuming…” you start.

“Hm?” he looks over to you.

“I’m assuming you can’t hint at what’s on the paper.”

Mingyu barks out a laugh of disbelief, “You assume correct. I’m not going through hell with this job just to lose it because of a paper leak.”

“But it’s just the midterm,” you mumble, not even close to remotely audible.

“What did you say?” Mingyu smirks.

“Nothing,” you huff.

“You know, I’m a little offended you don’t trust me.”

“Who said I didn’t.”

“Well then, stop being such a worrywart.”

There must be something written on your face, because as you pass Mingyu standing at the door he keeps open for you, entering into the coffee shop with fallen shoulders, he seems to change his mind.

He brings you a coffee, sits you down, and gives you something else you need. “I made the paper. Every question. And I taught you. Every concept. So I definitely know you’re gonna be fine.”

In that moment, with the large glass walls of the warm coffee shop, the afternoon sun comfortably resting on every last object of the room, you don’t see it illuminate anything other than the man before you.

Perhaps you're being dramatic at the revelation, but you don’t take anything into account as you note Mingyu’s eyes and how they sparkle like they were gifted from the centre of a flaming volcano, brown and polished more than any jewel or stone you’d ever seen. Reaching out to touch him, you know you’d feel nothing but smooth stone, the indentations only possible by a being beyond what you could comprehend.

He’d given you more than just reassurance, and at times, his timing makes it feel like he was sent from the heavens itself, just for you.

You sniffle.

His hands brush over yours as he hands you a napkin, and even more so, cover your own as he takes your freezing fingertips into his own palm, the contact burning you like hot coal.

You know he’s real. And you don’t know why quite just yet, but that reassurance is enough to give you calm.

Monday

You were alright, but it seems that Mingyu seemed to disintegrate right after he was done reassuring you to the moon and Saturn and Jupiter and back.

It’s midterm day, and as always on every Monday morning, you enter the empty lecture hall with two warm coffees in your hand, ready for whatever shitshow you’d have to perform for today.

It seems Mingyu must defect from at least one regular string of behaviour to remain as Mingyu, who on this occasion, stands before you in a baby blue polo sweater.

Except you only know that because you can see the unique collar, but it might also be important that his back is turned towards you.

“Morning, champ,” he gruffs, nothing encouraging about his voice in the slightest.

Your breath hitches when you finally see his face, eyes sunken in and face pale. His lips are chapped and peeling, eyes half closed.

“Why’re you looking at me like that, why has everyone been looking at me like that?” he huffs in one long, rapid question.

“Um, I mean,” you stare at his shirt that’s backwards. And inside out. “I can’t tell if that’s a choice or a mistake.”

Looking down at his front, he looks back up, “What?”

“Your collar is…not at your collar, Mingyu. And your shirt’s inside out.”

Hand at his nape, he reaches his fingers down and finds the unmistakable starched planes of his collar, eyes closing at the realisation. He’s immediately pulling his arms out of the shirt with his eyes still closed like it’d all disappear if he keeps them like that.

“Wait!” you exclaim before he strips entirely, scrambling to put your coffees down to push him out of the room towards the restrooms. “Do you wanna strip for the CCTVs?”

You only hear him sigh as he moves out and into the hall, doors closed behind him.

You’ve nearly forgotten about the midterm at this point, your concern now growing in a completely different direction. By the time Mingyu returns, he’s blabbing about wondering why everyone he ran into since he left home was giving him the strangest looks, and then something about you always swooping in to save him before the real bout of disaster strikes.

It’s hard for you to listen to him when you’re more worried about him passing out, his face doing him no favours to reassure you that he wasn’t a breathing corpse.

“Mingyu…did you sleep at all?”

“Hm?” His eyes are glazed over and unfocused.

“Sleep? Rest?”

“Oh,” he frowns. “Not really. I had emails coming in all night.”

“And you were replying?”

“It's the midterm today,” he responds flatly, like it should’ve been enough explanation.

You almost don’t believe him. “Doesn’t mean you stay up to answer something that should’ve been cleared out beforehand!”

“Couldn’t just leave them to fend for themselves,” he dramatises.

“Yes, you could!” Your voice comes out louder than you expected, eyes wide as you realise what he’s doing to himself. “You barely look human and it’s only the midterm.”

“What’re you trying to say?”

“I don’t know if this job is really worth as much as you think it is.”

Mingyu’s jaw is clenched, fists tight as he releases them to grip paper weight on the desk, knuckles white. “I can’t get anywhere if I don’t—”

“Mingyu, please. This isn’t good for you.”

He says your name. Declarative, almost like a warning. “If you think this job isn’t worth it then you just don’t know.”

“Mingyu—”

“No, you don’t, because I’ve seen how good of a job I’ve been doing.”

“You have, you’ve been amazing but—”

Mingyu’s own voice is raised, a hard impenetrable floor to the words he spills. “Then what’s the problem?”

“Have you looked at yourself in the mirror lately? You look like a corpse!”

And then he’s getting out of his chair with so much force it almost knocks it backwards, “Why on earth do you care so much? So what if I look like a corpse, if I‘m doing my job?”

It might’ve been better if he knocked the chair right into you, your breath dissipating in your chest like it never existed. His face is morphed in an expression of exasperation your anxieties fear the most, every line on his face committed to irritation and anger.

Why on earth do you care so much?

Right. Why do you?

“Are you asking me that?”

“What?”

“Are you asking me why I care?”

Mingyu only sighs, shoulders dropping and eyes closed. Like so many times before, you watch run a hand through his hair, except this time he yanks on the strands harder than ever before.

His eyes are bloodshot.

“I have to get the exam pack.”

Marching out the door in front of your own eyes, you’re left with a feeling that’s right in the back of your throat, curling and whirling into something you wish you could hack and gag out. Gripping the corner of the professor’s desk, you feel the peeling wood cut into your skin.

There’s a draft, the delayed slam of the door has only hit its wind now, a delayed reaction. It’s like it registers in your mind as you feel strands of your hair shift, the clarity that comes with it.

Delusive. Chimeric. Cruel.

Everything you’d subjected upon yourself. A whimsical fantasy between pages of logic and numbers, a story that simply didn’t fit where the laws wouldn’t allow it.

The null hypothesis of your most elaborate nightmares.

Monday

Your favourite commonplace box, where your mother once placed all her most prized jewels, had a finicky latch.

It wasn’t broken, simply worn in from years of opening and closing. It took a few tries to get it shut. Simply pressing down with pressure didn’t work; you had to open it again, press down on the individual elements of the latch and then try again.

You were never satisfied until you heard the distinct click of the latch fixing itself, the box closed and ready for you to hook your lock through.

Earlier on in your undergraduate career, you remember a professor talking about the effects of external factors on the mind, how they can sometimes cause it to ‘shut down’ when overwhelmed or stressed.

It’s happened to you on many a occasion; like when you stayed up too late on a school night to watch a documentary about the Stanford prison experiment, or when you’d neglect food or water on busier days, or when you’d stop paying attention in class because you were too preoccupied thinking about Taco Tuesday.

Regardless, you’d found a way to recognise when your brain would fall into some strange kahoots with daydreams, or whatever was bothering you, and learned ways to give yourself a reset.

Pressuring and forcing the attention wouldn’t work, just like how the latch wouldn’t fit when you’d do the same with your beloved old box. So you’d take a walk, drink something cold, spray yourself with a garden hose, or even take a nap altogether. Opening yourself up, so the latch can finally click.

On the morning of your midterm, when you’d ensured your brain was in optimal condition for the exam you knew would be one of the worse ones you’ll have to take, you were sure the only external force that could ruin your vibe was from God himself.

Having been so preoccupied with your mind and its functions, you’d seemed to have forgotten where your heart had wandered off to.

Somebody else might consider it a minor disagreement; an anxious squabble if you will. But your breakfast in your throat was enough reason to deem what happened that morning much more than that. At least for you.

“Pass it on, please…pass it on, please.”

The sound of his voice is tectonic. Rattling in your head like a superior force had slammed into your skull like a padded hammer to a gong.

You hated it. You hated everything. You hated yourself. And as the midterm paper reaches you with your pen in your clawed fingers, the first three questions already making perfect sense, you realise you hated Kim Mingyu the most.

That was a lie. You were lying to yourself, yet again.

Because it was quite the opposite. You couldn’t hate him.

As you drift past every question of conditional experiments and screenshots of data and tables on a software, you hardly remember what you circle and what you don’t. Hardly remember what words you picked for the short answers and labels. You hardly remember taking the steps down from your seat to the front of the room, where the professor sat scrolling through his Skateboarders [!MEN ONLY!] facebook group, placing your paper down and leaving the classroom.

Throughout your years of living, you’d learned what you needed to get your brain out of its clouded muffle, to refocus when you needed it.

Everything. You tried everything.

But on that day, when it mattered most, your latch never clicked.

It’s Wednesday.

You order lunch from the Italian place a few streets down. Ravioli; it’s safe and you know you’ll like it.

Savouring it is easy in front of another true crime show. You pull a lone soft drink from your fridge, one that your friend left weeks ago. It tastes just as bad as the last time you tasted it from someone else’s cup, but you drink it anyway, the empty can now in your trash.

It’s 3:30 PM, and you sit at your desk. It’s strange. It feels like you’re missing something, which in ways, you are. But as you pull your laptop from your nightstand instead of out of your bag, you slow your movements.

The papers are the same. But you read them anyway.

Parameter estimation: Make inferences on characteristics of the population, including distributions of the variables and the effect of one variable over another.

It’s accursed the way the universe won’t let you live.

There’s a scribble in the corner in a dark blue, estimation cannot be perfect.

Estimation cannot be perfect.

[_]

It’s Thursday

Class. Eat. Drink. Work.

Hypothesis testing: Determine whether null hypothesis is rejected or not after data observation.

There’s a scribble in the corner in a dark blue, no null hypothesis in bayesian approach!!

[_]

It’s Friday

Eat. Drink. Work.

Latent means to have meaning but is yet to be manifested. The greek letters are placeholder values for values yet unknown.

There’s a scribble in the corner in a dark blue; values that you will find out

[_]

It’s Saturday

Eat. Drink. Work.

P(A|B) = [P(B|A)P(A)

——————

P(B)

There’s a scribble in the corner in a dark blue;

it gets less complicated

promise :/

[_]

It’s Sunday.

Eat. Drink. Work.

The page is blurry. Your eyes hurt.

There’s a scribble in the corner in a dark blue;

you’ve got this!!! < 3

You give up.

It’s Monday.

8:14 AM.

You barely glance at the front of the room; swift turn to the left and right up the steps. Dr. Cho’s outfit almost goes unnoticed by you, tamer than most. Bright Barbie pink with large polka dots, untucked into too tight white jeans. His crocs are sparkly, at least that’s what the twinkle from up here looks like.

He’s insulting another author, the man’s ProQuest journal article open for the world to see like a mediaeval scandal.

There’s another person next to the whiteboards, back to the wall, hands clasped in front of him. His hair is messy, shooting lasers into the carpet as he rocks the slightest bit, listening to the professor rip this author to shreds.

An hour later, you’re staring into the JASP software like it was written in a different language.

Glancing next to you, the boy in the spongebob hoodie is playing sharkboy and lavagirl by himself. On your other side, the girl has the same thing as you open on her laptop, her pen occupied with drawing about a hundred tiny gojos on a bright pink sticky note.

Bright pink sticky note.

You snap your gaze back to your screen quickly after that.

9:58 AM. You start packing up, shoving everything into your bag.

Dr. Cho doesn’t even notice you slip out of the room, hardly a minute to the end of the lecture.

In the hallway, you take your first real breath in two hours.

It’s Tuesday.

You’ve come down with something, head heavy as you feel yourself burn up. Skipping class is easy when you sleep through your alarm and every phone call from a friend asking where you are.

They drop by, armed with medicine and soup. You almost feel better.

It’s silent after they leave, and you realise in that moment how much you hate it.

Opening your laptop for the first time in over 24 hours, you turn on a random podcast to play in the background, needing something to fill the air before you lose it entirely.

The screen lands right where you left on the incredulous data presentation, unsolved tutorial paper crumpled between the screen and keyboard like a wilted leaf.

Hot, scalding tears sting your eyeballs when you realise there was nowhere to turn to.

It’s Wednesday.

After a long day of doing nothing, still sick from whatever plagued your body, you go to bed earlier than usual.

It’s Thursday.

Walking out of class, your mind is empty. You’re still sniffling, still achey, but better than you were. The shawl wrapped around you is warm, and your hood covers the cold tips of your ears.

This other class makes you feel better about yourself, especially when the content is digestible and so is the professor. The TA feels like a mere accessory in the room, something you’ve learned to appreciate.

With your gaze lowered, you only see midriffs as you walk out the classroom into the busy hallway.

It happens in an instant, the flash of a clenched hand as the owner walks by in quick stride. An unmistakable leather strap watch with a broken clock face on the wrist.

You freeze like you’ve been caught.

The hard bump of someone coming out the room behind you is welcomed, the annoyed “Hey!” knocking you back to earth before you could even exit the dimension.

You’re off centre. But it’s fine.

It’s Monday.

“Midterm results are out Tuesday morning. If you have any questions I’ll be sitting at office hours on Wednesday and Thursday, four to six in the evening. Or you could send me an email, either’s fine.”

Dr. Cho isn’t here. Something you only found out when the pitt sank in your stomach as Mingyu cleared his throat at the full hour.

You want to leave, not caring about how strange it’d look if you did. Not caring about how he would definitely notice if you did. You want him to shut up, to stop talking, for anything to halt the way his voice infiltrates your entire being, talking about things you don’t understand but more familiar than anything else.

Mingyu’s voice is hoarse, and you loathe the way you can tell the difference.

It’s Tuesday.

Midterm Results for Statistics in Psychological Research.

— 92/100

It’s Wednesday.

4:10 PM. It’s almost too much for you. Almost.

The screech of the door is loud, the slam of the handle’s rebound even more so. The room doesn’t so much as glance at you at the door, the half full seats preoccupied with more important things.

The front desk perks up immediately, eyes shooting towards the door for the nth time that day, like he was expecting someone that never seemed to show up.

It’s ironic, you think, how Mingyu never seemed to notice you walk into the room for the many months you’ve walked in just for him. And now, as you walk in fists clenched and jaw set, eyes wild and burning, he’s breaking away from a student to look at the door before you even come into view.

“Did you feel bad?” you spit.

“What?” he whispers. He seems to come around, glancing back before continuing, “Can we talk? Please.”

“Answer the question, Mingyu,” you snap. You don’t care there’s a confused student sitting right across from the both of you, his slot interrupted by your barge. “Did you feel so bad you had to give me something I didn’t earn?”

He’s stood up now, half confused. “Is this about the midterm—”

“I did not get a ninety two, I know I didn’t,” you grit. “Whatever happened before that stupid paper made sure I wouldn’t.”

Mingyu says your name and the sound makes you want to vomit. “What makes you think I’d do something like that?”

“I don’t know, maybe because I fucked up because of you?” you announce, louder than before.

The world disappeared, your tunnel vision pointed at Mingyu’s face that wears an expression you cannot even begin to read. The unbecoming tears in your eyes are of a type of unadulterated rage you’ve felt only a few times before. Your heart is going about a million miles a breath, everything else only triggering an added bout of infuriated tremble in the forefront of your emotions. Nothing makes sense.

Mingyu pushes back his chair in silence, stalking over to a large cupboard in the corner of the room. He shuffles around for a minute before returning.

There’s a packet being thrust into your fists when he reaches you. He does not meet your eyes.

A bright red 92/100 marks the front page.

“Here. It was all you, if you can’t believe me.”

It’s a careful mark, unmistakable lines and curves of the nine and the two.

Reality is slow to sink in, but for some reason it’s only making you angrier. The paper curls under the pressure of your fingertips. You don’t open the packet. You refuse to flick through the pages.

Because you know you’ve lost.

It’s Thursday. And it’s full of regret.

There’s a sickness in you, from that dreaded day, something beyond what affects your body temperature and your energy. It’s in your mind, flooding the nerves that swim through every crevice and cave of your brain, a physical venom that does the opposite of kill but also the opposite of letting you live.

There’s a feeling in you, that even if you were to open your mouth, unhinge your jaw, try to scream as loud as your throat would allow, there would be no sound. Something like a horrible dream, that you need to screw your eyes tight shut to fall out of. Except you aren’t waking up from this one.

In a coffee shop, where Mingyu held your hand in a reassurance you now bleed for, you were sure he was real. Real like some deiform image; too good to be true.

In your bed, dry tears on your face, midterm packet sifted through that showed you absolutely everything that you did right, thanks to him. He feels too real. Real like a cloud of obsidian that follows you everywhere, like the sad that’s been sleeping with you every night.

If there was a way to hate someone more than a human limit, you’ve crossed it with the resentment you’ve now fostered for yourself.

Barging into office hours like that, accusing him on a basis of nothing but your own dangerously stewed thoughts. If there was a hope of salvaged parts, you took a hammer to it in disregard; tearing it to ribbons that lay at your feet.

It’s Friday.

At least it was. It bled into Saturday before you realised the 3:23 AM on the dial.

Two weeks of no help and you already feel lightyears behind. The hour is getting to you, and you feel the frustration pool into tears, that turn into full fledged sobs. You’re crying over Bayesian inference and it’s somehow more pressing than any other emotion you’ve ever felt.

Impossible numbers on your data sheets taunt you, not a single reference to if it was a button you clicked wrong or if you were playing a fool’s game altogether.

Ding! You pick up your phone, the weight of it is enough gravity to pull you back to earth.

[Mingyu]: switch to bF10

[Mingyu]: you’ve been pulling numbers from bF01

It’s immediate the way your eyes dart towards your lit screen, clicking off tables to get to the drop down menu you need. And there on the left, two tiny buttons, one clicked on bF01.

With shaking fingers, you move your cursor to hover over the tiny bF10, anticipating. You click. It takes a moment for the numbers to change, but they do. The nominal values turn into something you can actually work with.

Something akin to a tut leaves you, hidden in the breath of another sob. It’s stupid, unreasonable, absurd. Your fingers hover over your phone, shaking as tears drop onto the screen, faster than before.

Do you not miss me?

Do you not want me around?

Talk to me

I miss you

Please talk to me

“I couldn’t—can’t—stand listening to someone spew nonsense when I know it’s not true.”

Mingyu is a product of his personality. You can only imagine he’s helped because he saw you struggling in class, heard from someone else, or perhaps, he just knew the very thing you’d make blunders out of.

The reasons come to you, that Mingyu is a product of his personality. Then why does it hurt? Why does it feel like the knife’s twisted a full 360, that despite the way you accused him of the thing that would strip him of everything he’s bruised himself for, he helps you. The very thing that caused this rift in the first place.

There’s a reason for that, and it is again, that Mingyu is a product of his personality.

It’s Saturday.

Perhaps you relied on your olfactory senses to remain calm, because you always knew you could count on a coffee shop to forever and always smell the same.

The universe seems to want to ruin that for you too.

“Latte, please,” you voice. “Iced.”

“We have a one plus one for the week! Would you like to receive another latte?” The lady taking your order looks no older than 17, a pep in her voice.

“Um, no thank you. Just one, please.”

She looks taken aback, a reasonable reaction to anyone turning down a free drink. But you couldn’t bring yourself to walk home with two cups in hand.

You’re plucking a napkin from the pickup counter when you hear his name.

“...that he manipulated her grade because they were hooking up.”

“He has time to hook up?”

“I remember hearing about that! She barged in during office hours and asked why he fixed her grade or something.”

“A ninety two? In that class? Oh, they were definitely fooling around with each other.”

“Whatever, at least we know he’ll entertain you if he likes you enough. I’m just glad those two are over so I can swoop in.”

There’s an eruption of giggles. You press your head down further.

“Unless he flirts in variables.”

“All is forgiven when you’re born with a face like that.”

Another explosion of giddy laughter, through which your drink is slid across the counter towards you, like it was waiting for you to hear the damning evidence before you could leave. You grab it anyway, grip tighter than usual.

Turning around, your eyes search, finding a group of people that sit in smiles and in various states of trust-falls.

There she is, the girl you sat with on the first day you attended office hours, the one with the glitter gel pen doodles on her notes and her blatant fawns over the TA you slipped under just as easily.

She locks eyes with you and her face falls, eyes widening the slightest bit in recognition.

Pressing your lips into a smile, you hope it doesn’t look as menacing as you feel. You don’t wait for a response before you walk out the large glass doors.

It’s Sunday.

It seems every sip of water you’ve taken during the week has been used up in all the tears you’ve seemed to be shedding. By the bucketload.

Alas, even blurry and puffy eyed, you pour over statistical formulas anyway, running on no energy and all antagonism. It’s another tutorial sheet left incomplete, a single question taking a pour that lasts in at least an hour of struggle.

Reading the same question for the nth time, your palms press into your temples as you stare lasers into the paper, like the revelation would come to you if you stared it down hard enough. It doesn’t make sense, the commands you’ve toggled on and off identical to the instructions on the page.

Hence the question begs why the data was coming out like someone pressed the ultimate on a number generator.

With a heat of unreasonable embarrassment, you find yourself checking your selection in one of the drop down menus, switching to bF01 and back just to see the difference. It does nothing to help, and you can’t help but feel a little relieved it wasn’t that particular snag.

The library is as silent as it could possibly be on a Sunday morning, near empty as you occupy the mostly vacant seats. The librarian is having her own day off, as you could swear she’s playing computer games behind the counter instead of actual work.

The only noise in the room is your own breathing, and that seems to be enough to mess with your concentration. You’re going cross eyed staring at the page for so long, the words doubling and disappearing before going back to normal.

Bayesian inference…z scores…null hypothesis…

Wait.

It’s like you can see it in front of your eyes right now, the scribble of someone else’s dark blue on your notes.

no null hypothesis in bayesian approach

Bayesian approaches don’t use null hypotheses. And z scores are in…

“Oh my god, this is a t test,” you whisper to yourself in disbelief. Immediately, you’re scrambling to shake your laptop out of its sleep, switching over to a t test to redo everything, following the instructions on the same data set.

And there it was…a clear 0.067 under the p value.

In a moment of questioning, you laugh out a breathy sound, the absurdity of it all becoming too real. T tests were the first thing you learned, the foundation to all your statistical knowledge. Coming so far, and it took you days to realise the instructions under a Bayesian approach were for a different realm entirely.

It was stupid of you. But in this difficult aftermath you can’t help but feel victorious. Laughing to yourself quietly in this empty library.

When the initial adrenaline fades and you’ve double, triple checked to ensure you were right, you can only stare at the tiny mail button in your shortcuts on the screen. It was clearly an error, one that was given out to nearly a hundred students.

The first step was clicking, your inbox coming to life as you drift towards the big blue button with the readily available NEW MAIL. So you click.

There’s an attached file in the email you draft.

The tutorial paper has titled t test instructions as a Bayesian approach. Just wanted to point it out and ask if I could receive a corrected version.

Regards, YN

It’s almost like you’re trying to remember how it feels like when you type an experimental m in the To bar. His name pops up immediately, email address typed out in full, full name clear on top as a regular contact.

You don’t need a suggestion to remember, his email came easier to you than your own.

But you don’t email him, backspacing till it’s empty once again.

Dr. Cho’s email sits in that place instead, a first for you.

SEND.

You don’t expect him to reply on a Sunday, in fact, you aren’t sure if he’s going to respond at all. You’ve already shut your laptop, half out of your seat in an attempt to pack up. You’re forced to consider.

Would it be terrible to go back and cc him as well?

A spiteful part of you might find joy in correcting him for a change. The rational part of you wants to actually finish the tutorial before tomorrow’s class when you’d have to tackle another beast for the rest of the week.

Sitting back down, you move without thinking. Your mind is still cooking up possibilities as you swing your screen open once again, still weighing as you click back into your inbox.

There’s a new email in your sent box after you’re done, a copy of the one you sent your professor, the same attachment and the same question; word for word. The only difference, a more familiar name in the address bar.

Before you can chicken out, you slam your laptop shut for the actual last time, shoving everything into your bag before the speeding thoughts can infiltrate your mind's barrier. You’re out the door before you know it, ready to be done with this.

You’re afraid if you put a hand to your stomach it’d be met with kicks and punches, especially with the way you feel the aggressive cartwheels slashing away at your insides. The butterflies are making it to the end of your food pipe, and you briefly wonder if you need to break into a sprint to make it to a safe throwing up zone. Your entire being jolts as you feel a buzz in your hands, a loud click that signifies a new email in your inbox.

Right there, in the middle of the sidewalk, you stop.

The grip you have on your phone is unyielding, your fingers beginning to hurt from the pressure. There’s no way to tell if you’re shaking or not, but you bring your phone to your face anyway. The screen flips on, a lone notification on the screen.

RE: Tutorial Error from Kim Mingyu

It couldn’t have been more than ten minutes since you sent that email, the library still in sight from where you stand. At the same time, it’s almost funny you expected any different from him.

The kicks and punches in your stomach halt, the cartwheels have calmed, the butterflies have fallen asleep. The grip on your phone has loosened, and it’s like every nerve in your body went from on fire to serenity in a whiplash inducing shift.

Clicking on the notification, the email opens.

Noted. I have another tutorial sheet for you if you want it. I’ll be in the room where office hours are held for the rest of the morning.

Kim Mingyu, T.A.

There was no way he didn’t have a softcopy he could send you in less than a minute, and you’re sure he knew you’d realise that too. You should scoff, be upset, roll your eyes.

But instead, you find your feet making a 180, turning around to go right back to where you came from. You walk, eyes still half trained on the email, reading and rereading as you walk back onto campus, towards the building you’d once considered a second home.

You walk, and walk and walk, in through the doors, up the stairs and then another set of them, you take a left and look up. The hallway is empty, the door on the right coming into view as you slow your steps significantly.

Closer and closer, you realise the light surrounding it is brighter than usual. The door is open, and you can see the empty rows of tables and chairs, set neatly against one another. It’s strange, you’ve never seen it wide open before.

Walking even closer, you can see the beginnings of the professor’s desk come into view, and it only takes you one more step forward.

Standing in the doorway now, you find yourself in the direct path of the sun that pours in through the open windows. It’s warm, but just enough to combat the cooling weather.

The desk up front is occupied, as it always is.

Mingyu is only in a t-shirt and trousers, glasses perched on his nose as he scrawls away on the paper in front of him. His laptop is turned on, screen facing the door where you stand, his inbox open and available even on the weekend.

It wasn’t that you were waiting for him to notice, but you found yourself inadvertently taking your time looking at him. Every other situation, you’d done your absolute best to avoid your eyes grazing over him at all costs, hardly drifting over his form before flitting away. You never did it on purpose, but it was more like you were unconsciously protecting yourself.

Like looking at him would only make the ache in your heart worse.

If that was the case, you would’ve been right. There’s a tug in your chest, and in that moment, it all comes flooding in like a gate destroyed.

Mingyu looks up and sees you in the doorway, standing immobile. He sets his pen down, taking his glasses off. There’s the smallest hint of a smile on his face as he greets you, “‘Morning.”

You take it as your cue to move forward, stepping foot into the patch of sun slowly. “‘Morning.”

You reach the desk, standing in front of him, the only thing blocking you being the littered table with files, papers and stationary; the trench between you both.

It’s so silent it tears at your insides, gripping the strap of your bag to have something to do.

“I, uh, double checked when I saw the email. You were right, nobody noticed in class either.” There’s an airiness in his voice, like he might be struggling just as much as you are right now.

He clears his throat when you don’t respond, looking back down at his workspace like he was looking for something. He finds a paper from some stack, handing it over to you.

“Thanks,” you hoarse. It’s the same tutorial you had, except the instructions had been crossed out, replaced by a list of handwritten instructions instead, detailed in their annotation. You recognise it, because of course you’d recognise his handwriting.

“I didn’t have time to print one out right now. I’ll probably send a corrected copy to everyone tonight,” he explains.

“That’s alright.” You look up, lips pressed together, eyebrows forced into a regular position on your face. Nodding, you thank him once again. “Thanks again. I’ll…get going.”

Every fibre in your body screams at you to turn back around, hollering profanities at your inability to deal with this. You’re already halfway to the door though, and your pride’s already deemed it too late.

Please stop me, please stop me, please stop me, please just say something and stop me—

There it is. Your name, from his mouth, in his beautiful voice.

Turning back around is the easiest thing you’ve ever done.

Mingyu has stood up from his seat, out from behind the desk. He looks like he wasn’t expecting you to turn back. “Can we talk?”

And then he’s pulling out the chair he was sitting on, presenting it like a piece offering. If you heard correctly, you could’ve sworn you heard his voice break the slightest bit when he pressed, “Please?”

So there you were, in a position all too familiar as you sit across from the man that’s haunted you for the past weeks, trying to keep your chest from falling in.

“I guess I should start with an apology,” he’s fidgeting with his own fingers. “I don’t need to give you excuses about stress or exhaustion because…”

He closes his eyes, trying to find the words. “I didn’t mean to lash out at you. You were only trying to help and I was too preoccupied with myself to notice. I’m sorry I spoke to you like that when you didn’t deserve it.”

For about the millionth time, you realise you’re tearing up again. He continues. “And then…right before the midterm too. You were right, I did feel horrible. But I swear that grade was all you, I didn’t touch those numbers.”

He really didn’t, because the papers he had thrust into your hands on that fateful day in this very room proved that you earned that mark. You wince regardless.

“I thought I could apologise before the exam started but I couldn’t find you, and then you were gone right after. I didn’t text or call because I was sure I’d fucked it all up.”

“I’m sorry too. For barging in in front of everyone and basically accusing you. I wasn’t thinking straight.” You look up from your lap, wet lashes and all. “I really hope you didn’t get into any trouble.”

“I–no, I didn’t.”

“Are you sure? Because—”

“I promise I didn’t.” He locked eyes with you when he said that, hoping you’d believe him. You nod slowly.

“It wasn’t even that bad, what you said,” you sniffled.

He scoffs at that, “I’d beg to differ.”

“I would’ve gotten over it,” you continue, bracing yourself to admit to something you’ve had trouble admitting to yourself. “I should’ve gotten over it. I don’t know why it hurt so much, why watching you walk out felt so horrible. But I haven’t been acting like normal ever since, and I’m sorry for stretching this whole fiasco out into something that didn’t need to turn into…this!”

“You were hurt because I hurt you.”

“People have said worse things to me. And you were practically a zombie, I should’ve just left it for another time. It was a little bit my fault too. But…yeah.”

There’s a silence as you try to remind yourself to breathe. You speak up again. “I just want us to go back to normal. I’ve missed you. Alot.”

“Me too. The go back to normal bit. And the…missed you bit.”

Mingyu’s half smiling when you look up, biting your lip hard as you try to keep a smile of your own at bay. “I’d thought if I gave up and admitted I was struggling that day, that’d be admitting defeat. That you’d think I…couldn’t do it.”

Why on earth do you care so much? It rings in your ears.

You sound light when you say it though, knowing now it wasn’t what he meant.“Since when are we on caring terms?”

Mingyu cringes. "We are. I am, at least, if you aren't anymore, which is fine. I care about you. A lot."

It’s hard to not let out a laugh. He looks half constipated as he tries to navigate his words.

“Oh well I’d hope you’d care, since you’re my TA and all.”

“Not in a TA way.”

“Tutor way.”

“Um.”

“Friend way? A human way?”

“No.”

You both know you’re being obtuse on purpose, and you aren’t sure why. Maybe you just like to watch him squirm.

“You know what?” he rasps.

“What?”

Your answer comes in the form of Mingyu lurching to grab the legs of your chair, pulling the wheels to crash into him where he sits. You’re not expecting it, the clashing legs causing you to swerve forward, hands on Mingyu’s lap.

And then his hand is on the back of your neck, and his lips placed on your own.

You’re stiff as a board, brain computing the fact that Mingyu is kissing you in a classroom.

It’s short, hardly a few moments before he pulls away. “Does that clear things up?”

There’s nothing you can do but blink at him, the reality of it all settles in. “Hm.”

He laughs at your half dazed state. It’s a purely instinctual part of you that speaks after this. “Maybe one more time. To make sure.”

Mingyu doesn’t even wait to laugh again as he wastes no time, putting his mouth on yours properly this time. There’s more of a drive in you this time, moving your mouth against his and he keeps your head close.

The ecstasy is slow but sure to build in your stomach. Mingyu is kissing you. Mingyu is sitting with you and kissing you so good you’re already half faint.

His mouth tastes like coffee and remnants of berry, a combination you can’t believe you could enjoy this much. Licking into his mouth, you let your tongue drag over his, like the tactile would convince you this wasn’t some too vivid fever dream.

He pulls away for a moment, but hardly so as his lips remain pressed onto yours.

“For the record,” he pants. “I love that you care. And I hope you’ll keep caring. Because I don’t think I can handle it if you walk away after this.”

Mouth back on his own, you decide there’s only one way to convince him you weren’t going anywhere without dragging him with you.

MINGYU'S APARTMENT IS CLEANER than you expected. You aren’t sure what you were expecting, perhaps more mad scientist than anything else. But the most you find is a mug and plate in the sink, and a moderately crowded study desk, which is to be expected.

Mingyu decided to abandon his work for the day to spend it with you, to which you contest that it was Sunday anyway. His response is making you change into something comfortable of his so you could laze on his couch.

Like you would run away if he didn’t, Mingyu keeps his arms around you in a tight hold, fingers curling around your shoulders as you lay on top of him. Your head rests directly over his heart, his cheek and lips taking turns to occupy the top of your head.

You fill him in on everything, and realise the most eventful weeks you’ve spent were actually quite uneventful in hindsight. He feels up your cheek and forehead when you tell him you got sick at one point, to which you have to reassure him it was either something going around or stress that you subjected on yourself.

“I went to a frat party,” Mingyu mumbles into your forehead. “For Halloween.”

The information has you shifting to look up at him in bewilderment, “You went to a frat party?”

He snorts, “Dressed up for it too.”

“Oh my god,” you voice in mild horror. “Do I wanna know?”

“Wonwoo and I matched,” he hums as he pulls out his phone, scrolling his gallery to look for pictures. “I was Mario, he was Luigi.”

“How adorable.”

He only gives you a look and shoves the phone in your face. By some grace of god they aren’t wearing moustaches, but the distinct red and green outfits are enough to give you enough recognition.

“Thing 1 and Thing 2 were also possible contenders,” he informs.

“That might’ve been a little better.”

“What’s wrong with Mario?” he asks sharply.

“Nothing. But I do hope you weren’t sporting an Italian accent throughout that.”

“I was,” he pushes. “A horrible one too.”

You give him the satisfaction of an eye roll.

“You could’ve gone as Peach. We could’ve matched.”

“I don’t know if I’d wanna wear any available Peach costumes during Halloween time.” You crinkle your nose as you think of all the racy costumes that unearth every October.

“Maybe in private,” he says with an insufferable smile on his face.

Placing your hands flat on his chest, you rest your chin and look up at him. “I’m not sure I want to interrupt whatever you two have going on.”

“Who?”

“You and Wonwoo, you’re practically married.”

Mingyu laughs out loud, and you can feel the rumble in his chest against your hands, his body moving against your own that’s stuck to him. “Not with whatever he has going on with his girl.”

“Oh right,” you frown in remembrance. “What happened to not understanding how he does it?”

“Hm?”

“He’s a TA too. Probably just as busy as you. You said you didn’t know how he could juggle a relationship and his job at the same time.”

His eyes spark in remembrance, pausing for a moment. “I may owe him an apology.”

“Do you?”

Mingyu frowns, “Actually no I don’t. I don’t think he and his lady are doing too well right now. He’s been insufferable lately.”

“Is it because of the TA-ing?”

“I never know with those two,” he sighs.

There’s silence once again, in the midst of which Mingyu leans over to kiss you a few times, soft and lingering. Like he’s trying to familiarise himself with the shape of your mouth, the tactile feeling of kissing you.

“Do you…know about us?” There’s hesitancy in the way you ask. But you can’t help but ask anyway.

Mingyu thinks for a moment, and it has your heart beating out of your chest. “I know that I want us to be concrete. That I wanna work around whatever life throws at us. You can decide what to call it, but I know I’m in it for the long run.”

“I’m glad you’re smarter than your husband,” you smile.

He only rolls his eyes, “He’s only good at one kind of chemistry.”

“D’you think they’ll be okay?”

“Oh yeah,” he assures. “They’re just going through a…rough patch.”

“Like we did?”

“If you’re asking me, I’d say they’re being a little more stupid about it.”

The snort that leaves you is unanimous with his own. He continues, “They’ll be okay though.”

“I hope so. I’d like to go on double dates with my boyfriend’s husband’s girlfriend.” You start giggling in the middle of your sentence, too ridiculous even for you to voice.

“This is getting weird,” Mingyu breathes.

You only hum against his mouth, “Do I have to take your husband's blessing before we can move forward?”

“For fuck’s sake.”

You’re both laughing again, a sound that comes from your stomachs, true and uncontrollable. For a moment, you can’t help but be conscious of how light you feel, how happy you feel with his scent infiltrating your nostrils, his presence known where his fingertips touch you.

“I did the sticky note thing again too,” Mingyu says into the silence, and there’s nothing you can do to stop the fit of giggles that erupt all over again.

“Said something worse this time,” he continues as you laugh into his chest. “Accept that you’ll die alone or some other shit like that.”

There’s comfort in this moment. In your giggles and in your tears, in his voice and in his affection. His lips are another sanctuary you’ve found, and perhaps even another way to make your dreaded latch click.

Nose nuzzled in his cheek, the feeling of his skin so soft against yours, fingers at his chin where a slight stubble grows, you relax in ways you cannot comprehend.

MINGYU'S LIPS BECOME A feeling you’ve grown dangerously accustomed to.

It isn’t that he has them on you too much, regardless of what an outsider might suggest; to you they simply aren’t on you enough.

The following Monday went as usual, for you anyway. You weren’t avoiding Mingyu this time, and you were grateful for it. It was two hours of following him with your eyes as he darted around the room. You could hardly constitute it as not paying attention when Dr. Cho was preoccupied with explaining every reason he hates JASP over SPSS, but also ultimately, hates them both.

You don’t even notice his loud outfit (overalls and a neon green sweater underneath), happy to watch Mingyu flit about and whisper incoherent explanations to students.

The tutorial paper is barely looked at by you, because you know your boyfriend will be happy to help you out later at his place.

You’re barely through the door that night when he gets a hold of you, tight grip across your waist as you’re catapulted into his arms, door slammed shut behind you.

Bag still on your shoulders and your shoes still on, Mingyu’s slammed his mouth onto yours before you can take a proper breath. You stumble, squealing through the kiss as you realise you aren’t escaping the iron grip he’s got on your face.

Somehow between it all, you manage to slip your bag off to let it drop to the floor of his doorway, shoes kicked off one after the other as he leads you inside, littering the way.

“You aren’t actually paying attention in class anyway,” he breathes against your mouth before kissing you again. “So why don’t you sit in the back where you don’t distract me.”

“Who says I’m not paying attention.” You open your as your back lands on the couch, looking at him as he looms overhead.

“You’re paying attention to me.”

“It was in my job description when I signed up for the girlfriend position.”

He’s all over you now, hands at your sides, mouth underneath your earlobes as he husks, “Was letting me take you in front of the entire class also a clause? Because if this goes on I might have to take up on that.”

If you didn’t know any better you would’ve assumed he’d been possessed, everything about his behaviour screaming the opposite of the well behaved, restrained man you’ve been accustomed to. The fact that he’s whispering directly into your ears isn’t helping either, a conspicuous shiver dragging across your spine.

It lands with precision, right at your core. You’re too hot to tell, but there isn’t a doubt you’ve begun to pool.

There’s a ding in the background.

He’s suckling underneath your ear, his hands roaming in ways that would smear your reputation altogether.

Another ding.

He’s reached your mouth once again, groping your right breast lightly. Like he’s testing the waters.

Ding.

Mingyu makes a noise of annoyance, the other hand trailing underneath your shirt.

His ringtone blares throughout the room, whoever the caller was having reached wit’s end.

“Gyu…” you whisper.

“Ignore it,” he growls. The ringing has stopped.

He ducks underneath to kiss at your stomach, lifting your shirt oh so slowly. He goes higher, and higher and higher, leaving a trail of kisses at the skin, taking deep breaths as he drags his mouth over your torso.

His phone begins to ring again.

Your head is spinning, your senses overcome. If you weren’t sure before, the air of wetness between your legs is definitely obvious now.

He brings a hand to your centre, pushing inwards at your jean clad core. You exhale sharply yet shakily.

The ringing stops.

Mingyu makes a gumbled sound that you can’t quite make out, too preoccupied with the way your shirt is now up past your bra, at which Mingyu has taken to leaving open mouthed kisses to your cleavage.

There’s a ding.

“Mingyu, I really think—”

His phone begins to ring again.

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” he curses, rearing his head like an interrupted animal, wet mouthed and bleary eyed. He looks at his buzzing phone on the floor in an accusatory glare, like he wants to chuck it out the window and go right back to burrowing into your chest.

“You should answer.”

He looks irritated as he takes his phone in his hands, and you find a flash of Dr. Cho’s name on the screen. “It’s eleven O’clock.”

“It might be important.”

“The last time he did this he asked where his peacock feather pen was,” he grunts as he silences his phone.

You laugh, running a soothing hand through Mingyu’s hair, a tiny attempt to calm him down. Pulling your shirt down, you attempt to sit up.

Mingyu makes a noise of denial, attempting to stick his face into your now clothed chest, knocking you back down, “Nooooo, I’m gonna ignore him.”

“He’s not going to leave you alone,” you sing quietly, running your nails across his scalp lightly, holding his head to your chest. You place your cheek on his head, playing with his ear.

As if to prove your point, Mingyu’s phone begins to ring again, and he groans at the prospect.

“Go on.”

He swipes to answer it. A loud sigh and then a tired, “Hello?”

His volume is bumped up enough for you to make out what’s being said on the other line. “Where have you been?”

“It’s nearly eleven, sir. I was in bed.”

“My flash drive won’t open up on my computer.”

You have to stifle a snort.

“Is it…plugged in?”

“Of course it is, I’m not an idiot.”

“Is it showing up on your files?”

“Disk…is not…formatted.”

“Erm, it might be corrupted.”

“How did that happen?”

“Did you download something off the internet onto it?”

“Hardly matters, I need the attendance sheet on it!”

Your fingers are massaging Mingyu’s temples as you feel him tense on top of you.

“Your attendance sheet is on the teacher’s portal,” Mingyu grits before adding, “sir.”

“...I have other things on there too.”

Mingyu exhales ever so quietly and you tighten your hold on him a smidge. “This sounds like something tech support could help with.”

“Why can’t you help?” he asks sharply.

“I…I don’t know how, sir.”

There’s a noise of indignation from the other end, and you can’t help but keep from laughing.

Mingyu sighs into the phone, this time doing nothing to hide it. “I’ll take it to tech support for you tomorrow. And I’ll send you a direct link for the attendance sheet for Monday and Tuesday’s classes.”

The line beeps shut. Mingyu brings the phone for you both to see the professor’s hung up as soon as the words left Mingyu’s mouth.

“Wow,” you whisper into the silence, the weight of Mingyu’s head heavier on your chest. “Not even a thank you.”

“Absent father behaviour,” Mingyu grumbles as he moves his face to burrow into your shirt.

It’s a bad joke, but you laugh anyway.

“Will I be an asshole if I say I’m not in the mood anymore?” he murmurs.

“Absolutely not. Everything sucked right back in the minute I heard his voice on the line.”

“Gross,” he comments, but he’s laughing too.

“Should we call it a night?” he asks, rearing his head.

Nodding, you rise with him. By the time you’ve reached the bedroom, you’ve already begun taking off your accessories, fiddling with your bracelet as you voice.

“I need a shower.”

Mingyu throws you a towel and a t-shirt, which you catch and move towards the bathroom. Halfway through the door, you sneak a look at him fiddling with his belt.

“Do you wanna come in too?”

Mingyu looks at you peering through the door frame. You’ve never seen anyone leap across the room as quickly as in that moment.

THE FOLLOWING DAYS WERE just as eventful as that phone call, Mingyu running around as the midterm low passed and the line creeped up towards finals season.

Perhaps it was better that you stopped attending office hours, because the room seems to become increasingly packed as the days progressed.

You only ever saw Mingyu in the wee hours of the night at his place, where he begged you to camp out till the end of the semester so he “doesn’t move to insanity”. It might even be better for you, going about your day as usual, without the usual added distraction of a partner.

Coming home to him was easier, where he could clear up your doubts while in ratty pyjamas and starfished across the bed, where you could find solace in Mingyu’s chest without prying eyes when the information became like filling an already stuffed junk drawer.

It was a Friday night, you’re alone at Mingyu’s place sitting cross legged on the floor. The table in front of you is pouring over the final question of this week’s tutorial paper, everything seemingly whizzing right past the top of your head.

Despite that, as Mingyu stumbles inside past eleven, you know you shouldn’t ask him for a thing.

Tired was a look on Mingyu you’d gotten quite used to, so you’ve learned to not comment and simply let him fall into the couch cushions with all his weight.

His face is parallel to yours as he closes his eyes with a light groan in greeting. Moving forward, you kiss the flutter of his eyelids softly, down to the apple of his cheeks, the tip of his nose, the corner of his mouth.

Your fingers run through his tangled and distressed hair as he mumbles against your mouth. “Did you finish the tutorial paper?”

You huff in mild annoyance, that despite his state he still thinks about work. “Not yet. One last question and I’m done.”

He hums and waits a moment before reopening his eyes. With a loud groan he’s pushing himself off the couch, sliding off of it to sit with you on the uncomfortable floor. “Alright, let’s get this over with.”

“I can figure it out myself, Gyu.”

“You would’ve been done by now if you could,” he answers. It’s annoying that he says it but he’s also right.

Mingyu holds the paper a mere inch from his eyes, the sight almost comical if he also didn’t look an inch from passing out.

He mumbles the question as he reads, “It’s nothing, just worded weird. Toggle this off and move this to mixed factors and you’re done.”

The toggles are done for you, and Mingyu takes the liberty crossing he question off with a pen he finds on the table.

“Did you get everything else?” he asks in earnest.

“Hm? I think so.”

“Good.” And then he’s throwing his head back to rest it on the couch cushions behind him, breathing slowly.

He’s in a navy sweater, collar of his undershirt peeking through the top. Your gaze leads up further, to the exposed area of his throat—clean, tan and naked. You realise this might not be a good time, but it’s only natural your mind cooks up other ways to translate your helplessness as you watch your boyfriend push himself to the brink. Release is never a bad idea.

Besides, it’s a Friday night. No reason to not.

“Gyu,” you shuffle closer.

Lolling his head to look over at you, he answers in a small voice, “Yeah?”

You put on the guiltiest face you can muster, complete with darting eyes and fidgeting fingers. “D’you think…d’you think you can go over post hoc tests again?”

“Post hoc?” He furrowed his eyebrows. You bite the inside of your cheek, having blurted the first plausible model you could think of to ask him. It’s an older bit of the syllabus, something you should already be well versed in.

Not that you care what he thinks right now, he’d figure out why you were asking anyway.

“Post hoc, um,” he rubs a hand over his face as if to jog his memory.

Shifting forward, you plaster you front onto his side. He thinks nothing of it.

“Analysis tool after you’ve already run the data,” he begins.

Placing your chin on his shoulder, you let your nose nuzzle against his cheek. Trailing up, your lips find the shell of his ear.

“Results have to be…they have to be…” He falters when your hand reaches his front, running across the expanse of his clothes stomach, nails digging ever so slightly as you reach his abdomen. You continue to place open mouthed kisses at the space of neck you can reach.

“Hm? Has to be what?”

“Statistically significant,” he breathes when your palms reach the tops of his thighs. “To run a post hoc test.”

His trousers are less barrier inducing than regular jeans, something you’re both grateful for as you begin to palm his clothed bulge. “Results of what, baby?”

“For the love of—”

“Go on,” you whisper in his ear. “Please.”

One flick and his trousers are unbutton, pulling them aside as the zipper pulls open. You're pushing down his boxers when he answers you. “ANOVA.”

“What’s that again?”

“You little shit.”

You move your mouth forward to kiss him.

“Analysis of variance.”

You hum against the column of his throat at that, his half hard member in your hands. Light touches, that’s all they are, running the pads of your fingers across the pulsing length, coaxing him into full length.

“What’s it for though? We already got our results.” Bending forward, you stick your tongue to kitten lick at his tip. Mingyu hisses, hips shifting. Your tongue swirls around the tip, pushing into the skin on the head where he’s most sensitive.

“Ugh, fuck, for um,” he falters as you begin to suck at his head, tongue running over each hollow of your cheeks.

“For…for…” His chest is moving up and down in quick breathes, every sound from his mouth coming from a deep rumble in his stomach.

Letting go of his cock, you continue to pump him with your hand as you gaze up at him from your position. “For? Keep talking, baby.”

“For…To identify groups,” he grunts out. He lets out a louder moan when you place your mouth back on him, going past his tip and taking as much as you can of him into your mouth. “Identify…the differences, shit, hmph.”

He takes a loud breath before speeding through it again, “Identify which groups actually differ, oh my god.”

The bit of him that you can’t fit on your mouth is being pumped by your hands, fingers pushing into him like you were trying to indent them on the base of his cock. A glance upwards and you find his head thrown back, hands coming to tangle in your hair. His thumb caresses the side of your cheek.

“How many groups?” you ask, before diving back in.

“Three,” he chokes out. “Three or more, oh I’m gonna cum, fuck don’t stop, holy shit.”

Both of his hands are at your head, guiding you as you suck him harder, faster, more tongue digging into his slit. You hum against his dick on purpose, making sure it’s coarse enough to get the reaction you want.

You succeed, because immediately after you hear Mingyu rip out the loudest moan you’ve ever heard, his grip on your strands harder than ever. He cums into your mouth, hips stuttering as you place your entire weight on him to keep him in place.

You let some of it dribble out your mouth and back over his softening dick like a hot coating, sucking him through shooting spurts of cum that land on your tongue.

When you emerge from underneath, Mingyu looks like he got the soul sucked out of him; eyes closed, stuttered breaths raking through his entire body, a light sheen of the beginnings of sweat that glisten in the low light of the room.

Reaching for the tissue box and water bottle on the table, you soak the napkins and bring them to clean him up. He whines when the cold tissues touch him where he’s most sensitive right now, you want to kiss him but account for the cum that is actively stuck to the walls of your mouth.

You leave for a few minutes, much to Mingyu’s hoarse protests. He’s almost on all fours, hands on the floors as you promise to be back. By the time you’ve hauled his tired ass into bed, you’re just as ready to knock out as the half asleep man beside you.

Mingyu’s face is plastered into your neck, arms and legs thrown over your form as he hugs you close to him.

“I might love you,” he says into the darkness. A secret, just for you and the walls to hear.

You hide the way your heart absolutely leaps, conceal the way your hands tighten around his form into an affectionate caress, hold your breath to prevent the inevitable hitch.

I might love you too.

You hide that as well. For now.

Smiling into the skin of his temples, you sigh.

“Feel free.”

[Mingyu]: class ended early

[Mingyu]: be there in 5

[You]: ???

[You]: wdym ended early

[You]: kim did u end class early to come home

Your response comes in the form of the front door lock jiggling loudly. You’d stayed the night at his place, knowing you didn’t have anything to do but study by yourself. Sickly as you were, you doubt you could sit through two hours of even more statistics.

He’d left you in bed with a kiss, needing to be extra early since Dr. Cho decided to dump the last crucial few weeks leading up to finals season entirely on his TA. As much as there was on Mingyu’s already overflowing plate now, you couldn’t deny the elated feeling of your attendance being taken care of regardless of whether you show up to class or not.

A very real violation, but no one truly notes one skipped student in the midst of hundreds. Besides, the bag under Mingyu’s pretty eyes might be enough for anyone to have mercy and let the supposed mistake slide.

As Mingyu walks into the room, shoes flying and back dumped on the floor, he finds you still half clothed with leftover sleep in your eyes, standing in the middle of the living space like you were lost.

He drops his things to come and drown you in his arms, loud kisses all over your face as you talk. “You’re getting too comfortable with this job.”

“Am I?”

“Yes.”

“Can’t possibly expect me to teach a bunch of half asleep idiots when my woman is all alone at home, sickly and cold without me.”

You grumble wordlessly as you feel him check your temperature with the back of his hand. “How’s the congestion?”

“Bad,” you respond nasally. “I can’t find my Afrin.”

“It’s on the bedside table, baby.”

“No, it’s not.”

Still wrapped in his hold, Mingyu begins to take steps forward that lead towards the bed, pushing you to walk backwards.

“I’m not awake enough to navigate,” you sniff.

“I’ve got you,” he lowtones, pushing backwards slowly.

The back of your knees hit the bed and you let yourself fall back into the unmade sheets. You crawl back under the covers as Mingyu navigates between used tissues, water bottles and pills on the bedside table. But no sign of your nasal spray.

You have to breathe through your mouth and you hate it, but you send a remark his way anyway. “Told you.”

Mingyu bends down and emerges with a familiar red capped bottle. He stares at you while you stare at it, choosing to simply snatch it from his presenting hands and be done with it.

“Good thing I came back early, hm?”

“Shut up.”

He leaps over your form to claim the spot in bed right next to you, still fully clothed as he burrows under the covers next to you.

There’s nothing flattering about the way you stick the nozzle up your nostrils and sniff hard, but the gleam in your boyfriend’s eyes might as well suggest you were trying to get him to look at you like that.

“Are you gonna keep doing this till finals?” you ask throatily, shifting under the covers.

“Teaching during class time is just extended office hours, I’m gonna go insane if I keep going like this. Probably just today. Or…once more if I feel it.”

“Didn’t you say you were gonna extend office hours to Fridays too?”

Mingyu moulded himself against you, giving warmth to your shivering body even under thick blankets.

It seems throughout the course of your relationship, your time with Mingyu is either spent laying down or in the process of doing so. Not that you mind, you’ve found that remaining horizontal was what worked best for someone like Mingyu who seemed to want to fuse with your very being whenever you were together.

“Ugh, not this week. Do not have the patience.”

“I’m proud of you,” you say, eyes closed, already on the highway to dreamland.

“Thank you, I do think I’ve been very brave.” Even while slipping into dreamland, you find the good sense to find his nipple through his sweater and give it a hard pinch. He jerks away in a yelp, clutching his chest.

“What’s that for?!”

You ignore him and simply run your hand over the area you just attacked. “You’ve gotten better at knowing when to slow down. I’m proud of you.”

You’re too far gone to make out what he answers you with, but with the hot breath against your already warm forehead, you decide it's more than enough for you.

MINGYU DOES IT FOR the fourth time, but this time round he’s smart enough to not tell you.

It’s the Friday before finals week officially begins, and you remain in your own place for once to crack down on the last bits of syllabus you want to go over, away from your extremely distracting boyfriend.

There’s a text when you check your phone after a couple hours of hyperfocus, and you narrow your eyes at the notification.

It’s Wonwoo’s (actual) girlfriend, and she’s sent you nothing but a picture of both of your men on Wonwoo’s living room floor, thoroughly occupied with the floored expanse of sheets, pillows and cushions.

It’s a pillow fort.

Your boyfriend is building a pillow fort in his not-husband’s living room mere days before the final exam for the most dreaded course of the semester. All while he’s actively meant to be available for office hours.

You want to laugh. The man that stayed up multiple nights to answer stupid questions in emails, is now less than concerned about the pandemonium that is probably ensuing in the department building. It isn’t that you’re upset, because this was what you wanted from him. To learn to take a break when it was needed. But you would also prefer he’d time them a little better.

Inevitably, you text him, but not before sending an encouraging text to your girlfriend-in-law for putting up with the both of them all by herself.

[You]: where are you

[Mingyu]: where im meant to be?

[You]: office hours?

[Mingyu]: mhm

[You]: are u and ur husband conducting them under a pillow fort in his house

You imagine him sending Wonwoo’s girlfriend a betrayed look. Perhaps even throw a frilled throw pillow in her unassuming direction.

[Mingyu]: DONT KILL ME

You let him suffer in your silence, clicking your phone off and leaving it somewhere you won’t be tempted to look.

Besides, it wasn’t long before there was an incessant banging at your door that you ended up needing to get up to open. He looks so timid, the face of an innocent perpetrator that waltzes into your space.

“I’m sorry,” he begins, following you to your desk like a lost duckling.

“Whatever for?”

“For lying.”

You snort as you sift through tutorial sheets, “Might wanna take that up to the poor hopeless student that thought you were their last hope.”

Mingyu’s head sinks to your shoulder where you sit at your desk. “God.”

“Him too.”

In another few moments, his arms have come around to cage you into your desk where you’re sat, hands placed on the table as he towers over the top of your head, mouth to crown.

“Rumour has it,” he starts.

You make a face. “Now you’ve joined in on gossip? Maybe I have steered you wrong.”

He ignores you valiantly as his mouth drops lower, down to the beginnings of the tips of your ears. You can smell him. He smells good.

“That a textbook recitation is all it takes to get you all bothered down there.”

Lifting your head from its craned position over your papers, you stare straight ahead. Blank and unassuming.

“Take a hike, Kim.”

“...Sorry.”

NO MATTER HOW FAKE annoyed you were at your boyfriend, you cannot possibly credit anyone else for how smooth your finals had gone.

Not a single tear, hack or whine. Your meals were on time, your sleep schedule the healthiest it’s been for months. You even managed a movie night break in the midst of it all. A record for you.

The very first thing you do after walking out of the exam hall, stretching and sighing, you find Mingyu waiting with nervous eyes.

“Well?” he asks, eyes wide and lips pulled into his teeth.

You merely grab for his hand and pull him out of the crowded hall and past a few familiar turns.

“For the record I didn’t want some of the questions on there,” he yaps as he follows behind your stalks. “Hard ones weren’t mine. I promise I’m not a sadist.”

Then, in an un-CCTV’d corner, marked by the broken, empty vending machine, you round up on him. In seconds you’ve pulled him down to meet your lips in an eager, full kiss.

In the moments your lips remain intact, you can feel all the horrid statistical knowledge you’d gathered over the months slip out the cracks and crevices, relieving you.

Mingyu is careful to let you pull away first, eyes sticky to open when you do. There’s a smile on your face. “It went great.”

A strong tug against your waist and you’re suddenly pressed into Mingyu’s all too familiar hold, so everloving tight you can hardly breathe. His lips are smacking and pressing into your skin, all over your face, neck and hands. Anywhere he could possibly reach.

There wasn’t much he could do standing in a huddled corner at nine in the morning on a Tuesday, where anyone could pass by and question what in the high school was going on. But there was more than enough Mingyu could do behind closed doors.

In true Mingyu fashion, he’s begun to grope in every way you love the minute the lock clicks shut of his apartment, every fibre of both of your beings giddy and jumpy, giggles erupting from your tired mouths. You haven’t been touched in ages, always too tired to do anything even when you would find the time.

It isn’t remotely strange that you're wet from only a few kisses and hot breaths against your neck. Although Mingyu’s hands haven’t been modest either, already reaching your clothed cunt as you fall into bed.

He says it was your reward, for doing so good, his illustrious mouth suctioned onto your naked core, moving and grinding in ways you can more than just appreciate.

His tongue is nothing below made for you, like he knows exactly when to flick his tongue, graze his teeth and all but suck the daylights out of you. It’s marvellous, even more so as you realise he won’t stop. One, two, three mind blowing orgasms later, your legs still shake around his head as you cry out for him to stop.

Not that he was going to listen, as he did not the last fifteen times you tried, simply pushing a finger into your abused hole to chuck you into yet another climax. You’re sobbing, trembling, sweating; but also half hearted in your attempts to stop him.

By the time he’s relented, you’re sure you won’t feel a thing down there for at least a week. If Mingyu will even let you go untouched for that long.

But as you’re finally able to catch your long lost breath in bed, and Mingyu has curled up right beside you, like he always does, you let the finality of it all sink in. You were done. And so was he. And you could now begin to experience a Mingyu that wasn’t exhausted, stressed or tired. Even now, the long indented layers of fatigue begin to melt away, revealing a less strained man.

Mingyu was beautiful either way.

“Are you okay?” he asks you, his fingers tracing your features.

The pads of his fingers glide across your eyelids, down the slope of your nose, tracing the outline of your lips. You kiss his fingers as they reach you there, hand coming up to hold his wrists. You kiss the tips of his fingers, down to the palm of his hand. Eyes closed, you keep your lips there.

“More than okay,” you mumble.

“Good. Thought I lost you there.”

Stretching unceremoniously, you drape yourself over his naked form, head on his shoulder. “You’re not losing me. Not after being the sole reason I pass this devil’s module.”

“Is that all it takes? Make sure you don’t fail?”

“And give head like that.” It’s a half joke. “But also be Kim Mingyu comma TA.”

He mimics you between a breathy laugh, “Comma TA. Not anymore, I guess.”

“How happy are you?”

“Still have to grade the last set of papers. But I got what I wanted.”

“The recommendation? You deserve it.”

“That, and not having to be in Dr. Cho’s presence every other day. And you.”

You kiss his shoulder. “Look at you. All grown up with your big boy grad school on the horizon.”

“Not just yet.”

“You’ll get there too. If you can power through this hellsent semester, you can power through anything grad school applications throw.”

Mingyu shifts where he lays, taking a turn to lie on his side to face you. The afternoon sun peeks from behind his form, his outline made of pure gold. His breath is in your face as he talks, and there’s comfort in the air it penetrates.

“I only powered through this because of you. I hope you know that.” He’s smiling.

“Girlfriend duties,” you quote solemnly.

“I mean it. I knew I was walking into disaster with how this stupid job was going, all that work was just a distraction. I didn’t wanna believe this was a bad idea. And then you walked in.”

You cup his face and pout, “Oh, my damsel in distress.”

“Hm, my knight in shining armour,” he giggles. “Galloped in and saved me from myself.”

“You saved me too. From the world and its horrible creations.”

“I’ll start talking in formulas if this keeps up.”

You can only grumble in mild annoyance.

“I’m glad I asked you to come in early that day,” he says.

“I’m glad I was a good samaritan and gathered all your stuff that day.” You grin.

Mingyu leans in and kisses you. It’s soft, slow, and drips of the romance he’s trying to bring into the conversation. His lips are bliss, the feeling of him is bliss.

It’s almost scary how easily you’ve been able to give yourself to him. How quickly he’s placed himself in every nook and cranny of your heart. With his tired eyes and stronger than himself smile, the hand he extended in ways beyond you could ever explain to him. It’s terrifying when you realise what remains on the tip of your tongue, ready and bursting.

But it’s true, and you can only pray it remains that way. Because in that moment, naked and tangled between Mingyu’s limbs, his heart in your ears, your hands on his being, you just know.

“I think I might love you too.”

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ratgrinders · 5 months

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its so funny to me the dynamics between the supposed narrative foils of the rat grinders/bad kids, cuz you got:

kipperlily has been beefing with riz since FRESHMAN YEAR apparently??? (girl what could he even have DONE to you lmao) meanwhile riz didn't even knew she existed until this year and besides some suspicion has just been aiding kristin's presidential campaign, not even running himself.

fig is leading ruben down a winding rabbit hole of psychological torture as she manipulates him as a little goth girl he is in love with. theyve interacted as themselves maybe like once.

mary ann absolutely clocks gorgug on their first meeting, proceeding to inspire an anger in gorgug rivaled only by telemaine and his parents' sex robots, meanwhile mary ann continues to just not give a shit

ivy and fabian having the most toxic flirtatious relationship known to man (fabian has a type)

kristen recognizing in buddy "oh hey, this is what she could've been", having the most passive aggressive back and forth on the nature of religion, then getting expelled by his grandfather

meanwhile oisin and adaine seem to be the only ones who actually seem to like eachother lol

#dimension 20 #fantasy high #fantasy high junior year #fhjy spoilers #original post

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i-cant-sing · 5 months

Text

Time Traveller AU pt 4

Part 1 is here. Part 2 is here. Part 3 is here. AU masterlist is here. Check out my MASTERLIST for more.

Part 5 is here.

Two weeks had passed since you and Baldwin had met Salauddin. As much as you tried to stay in your room to try and work on your time machine a bit, Sibylla was far too excited with the wedding preparations and was dragging you along. Even the maids were too eager to do everything, be it dressing you up or accompanying you around the castle. You suppose it was their way of trying to get in your good graces so that you'll choose them to be your court ladies. Its all politics really. The few moments that you did try to have for yourself, they'd be with Baldwin. You cant ever have meals without him, even if you were sneaky. You theorised that Baldwin probably had someone in the kitchen to inform him the moment you're having a meal made so that he can join you too (and proceed to handfeed you the first and last bite from his plate).

You decide its finally time to bring up the agenda you had in mind. "Baldwin?" You call softly, earning a surprised look from him because he's used to your admonishing tone. "Yes, princess?" he quickly closes his book, giving you his full attention.

"Do you think... it could be arranged for me to travel?" He raised a brow. "Travel? Where?"

You mustered up the courage. "Egypt."

"Egypt? Why?" Of course he was alarmed because at the time Egypt was under Muslim rule, and Salauddin was the sultan of Egypt. It was his territory and it was far too.

"Why not? I thought you said you would show me the world." You reminded him of his promise when he was trying to bribe you into marrying him.

He sighed and nodded. "That can be arranged. Come on, now." He took your hand and pulled you towards him as he moved towards the corner of his room, keeping you facing him. "I always keep my promises, princess." He whispered kissing your chin before turning you around to face the mirror.

"See? Now you've seen the world. In fact-" He spins you back to him before turning you towards the mirror again. "-ooh! Now you've seen the world twice!" He keeps on spinning you back and forth a couple of more times making you laugh before you get dizzy and lightly smack his arm.

"Be serious for once, Baldwin!" You glare at him. "Dont you get tired from your flirting attempts?"

His eyes twinkled as he cupped your face with his hands. "Never!"

With your face still in his hands, you repeated your request. "I want to go to Egypt, Baldwin." "But why? Do you want something from there? Because I can have it brought here-"

"No." You cant believe you have to manipulate him. Eh, he'll get over it. "I... I dont have a family, Baldwin. I was an orphan and well- things werent great at my orphanage, so I ran away. I wanted to find out about my family, about my parents. What happened to them. So I've been travelling here and there. I suppose thats how I developed an interest in history." You could seem his resolve melting with the way his eyes softened, so you continued on. "Please, let me go to Egypt. I think... I think I might find some clues about my family there. And if I dont..." you chuckled. "Well, I could always write something on Salauddin."

"Do you really want to go?" You nodded eagerly. He smiled. "Alright. I'll talk to Salauddin. If he gives permission, then you can go. I dont think I could accompany you there. Guy has been stirring up some problems here and I cant have him try to start a rebellion."

"Its okay, I can go alone." "Well, not alone. I'll send my best knights along." Shit. Oh well. Better them than Baldwin.

Breaking the pattern for once, you decided to initiate affection and gave him a hug. "Thank you, Baldwin!" You heard him inhale sharply, his body stilling for a moment before his arms slowly but surely wrapped around your frame, and you felt him melt into you a bit. This is psychology 101, okay? Pavlov's dog experiment, if you reward him for "good behaviour", he is more prone to be "good".

If only you knew this may have been the first time in more than a decade that he's been hugged. And now that he has... it only cements more in his mind that your hugs are his- you are his.

As expected, Salauddin agreed and allowed you to come to Egypt. However, Baldwin still delayed your trip by almost a week under the pretence to make "necessary arrangements for your trip".

It was just him trying to find excuses to make you stay longer, or even change your mind about leaving at all.

"You know it's going to be soooo hot in Egypt? What if you get a heat stroke?"

"I'm going with Salauddin. He's been living in the desert for so long, I'm sure he'll teach me how to protect myself from the sun."

"You- what if you get thirsty? You won't get cold water!"

You looked at him baffled. "Salauddin literally had a box of ice in the desert- he served us ice water. Did you forget? I'm beginning to think you might be suffering from a heat stroke."

He huffed. "Surely, you cant be safe in Egypt without me by your side. People will attack you for being my weakness!"

Your heart skipped a beat. I'm his weakness?

You shake your head. Not the time. "How would they even recognise me? I'd be in a niqaab! Besides, I thought you were sending your "best knights" with me." You said turning around to fold your clothes.

Baldwin's hand reached for your wrist and he pulled you back to him, your body stiffening against his hard chest. Damn, how long did he work out for? Just a few weeks ago, he couldnt even stand for long without passing out.

He rested his chin on your shoulder. "I'll miss you." He mumbled, and the corner of your mouth quirked up. "I know." You replied as you tried to break out of his arms and return to your packing. But Baldwin spun you around, his brows furrowed. "You wont miss me?" His eyes held deep concern, while his voice reminded you of a scared child.

He's adorable.

His grip on your arms tightened the longer you stayed silent. Fearing he'd change his mind about the trip, you cupped his face and brought it closer to yours, staring into his eyes.

"No." Hurt flashed through across those blue pools, but you continued. "Because the mere thought that you would be waiting here for me will make me want to return home early." His face softened.

"Home? You consider this your home?" He whispered, clearly affected by your words.

Oh, he's about to die when he hears what you've got next.

Your eyes smiled. "You're my home, Baldwin." You knew if this was an anime, then right now Baldwin would be animated with a pink background with halo behind him, and probably cupids shooting arrows and crying.

His reaction proved you right. Baldwin pulled you in for a tight hug, hiding his head into your shoulder and before you either of you could react, you both fell on your bed, though Baldwin didnt let go of you.

When he finally pulled away, he caressed your cheek with one hand. "What?" you asked with a lazy smile. He didnt say anything, just kept tracing your face with his fingers, looking at you as if he was in a trance. Considering you were leaving tomorrow, you didnt move from the bed. You didnt want to break whatever fantasy Baldwin was in (truthfully, you didnt have the heart for it. He looked like something was healing inside him.) So you stayed there next to him, letting Baldwin run his fingers though your hair and falling asleep to that.

"How did I get so lucky?" He whispered to himself, still looking at you in awe.

Baldwin didnt sleep that night. No, he wanted to memorise your face.

The next morning, you were sent off with a small entourage, even though Baldwin wanted to send you with a bigger one, but you reasoned with him that a large group of people would only draw more attention to you.

"Be safe, princess." Baldwin said, pressing his lips to your forehead. You smiled and nodded. "I'll be back before you know it." He gave you a lopsided smile before pulling out a pouch and placing it in your hands. It was heavy. "I have given the knight commander gold to cater to your every need, buy anything you like but- I still want you to have this. Just in case." You peeked into the pouch and your eyes bulged out at the gold coins in there. "Its too much, Baldwin. I cant take-" He cupped your cheek. "I insist. If- God forbid, things go wrong, I want you to use this to get out." You leaned into his touch. "Nothing will happen to me, Baldwin." He prays so (he and his church is praying for your safe journey). "I know, but please- keep it. For my peace of mind." You finally conceded, giving him a hug before starting your journey.

From Jerusalem, you first reached Salauddin's caravan in the desert, where the Kurdish leader was waiting for you.

"So, have you come up with a plan to leave Baldwin?" He asked, guiding you inside his tent, taking note of the niqaab you were wearing. It was the one Baldwin had helped embroirdered for you- he recognised the ugly flower on your sleeve.

"Its not a priority at the moment." You lied, deciding it wouldnt be good to reveal all your cards to him. After all, he is a conquerer. You dont know what kind of games he may be playing.

He raised a brow at you, setting up the chess board. "Then why are you going to Egypt?" He wanted to gauge your expressions, but your eyes were solely focused on the chess board as you made the first move.

"I have some matters to take care of. Personal matters." You watched him move his black pawn.

"Anything I could help with?" He asked. You took his bishop. "No, you have already helped a lot. Thank you. But I must ask- how did you just agree to Baldwin when he asked if I could go to Egypt?"

He scoffed, taking your knight. "You think I did this for free? Please, your husband had to pay a pretty penny to take his "little heaven's angel" through the desert safely. Honestly, how have you bewitched him?" Salauddin gazed at you. "Either he's too stupid or you're much smarter than you look, the latter is something I highly doubt, so it only leads to one conclusion- Baldwin is stupid." He mocked.

"Hey! Dont insult my fiance." You admonished, looking back at the board to make your next move. He leaned forward with his elbows on the table, looking at you expectantly. "Or else what?"

Your eyes finally made contact with his, and he could feel he had insulted you somehow. "Or else... you'll regret it." You threatened, which he didnt take seriously, because- why would he? You're nobody.

His eyes lit up. "If you were any less threatening, Y/n, you'd be a dandelion." You rolled your eyes, clearly not amused. "Say whatever you want, but you and I both know you didnt do it for the money."

"What do you mean?"

"Mmhm, I dont know. Dont you have enough money already? I think- oh, you made a mistake there." you smirked taking his queen and now his king was left wide open for attack. "I think... you were scared to say no."

"Excuse me?" He moved his king. You chased him with your knight.

"You heard me." Your rook pushed his king into the corner. Frustratedly, he tries to escape by moving his king diagonally, but you were quicker with your bishop.

"Why would I be afraid of a man whose own brother-in-law is starting a rebellion against him and he's been allowing him to do so just because his sister claims to love him?" He taunted at the messed up family dynamics. Of course he knew how ready Baldwin was to give his kingdom away to Guy to be perished, but that was before he was cured of his leprosy.

You had boxed his king from all sides. No escape. "Why wouldnt you be? The same man was only just a 16 year old when he defeated you on the battlefield devastatingly. And that too, when he was so sick, his face was melting off." You knocked down his king. "Can you imagine how strong he is now that he's cured?"

His anger was subtle. Eyes glaring at you, mouth pulled into a thin line, his nostrils flared ever so slightly.

Clearly, you had struck a nerve.

"You shouldn't play with fire." He warned. You twirled his king between your fingers. "Who said I was playing?"

You both sat in silence for a few more moments, with you mostly relishing in your victory. "So, what do I get for winning again?"

His eyes narrowed, though they werent as hostile as they were a few moments ago, "You get to keep your head."

"Am I always playing for my life everytime we play chess?" "Yes." "Huh. So how does it feel to know that I will outlive you?" You teased, making him roll his eyes as he stood up, leading you out of his tent.

"My men are going to accompany you to Egypt. They're ready, so-" he looked at you with a scowl. "Leave."

"Aww, thank you, aljedu!" You waved, leaving before he could get mad at you for calling him "grandpa".

The journey to Egypt took a little over 4 days, but you really cant complain with the small army of people at your service. Even the men and women Salauddin had sent with you made sure to cater your every need, and more importantly, help you and your entourage survive the desert.

The pyramids were still as magnificent as in the future, though the area was now surrouded by a bustling market of sorts. As your caravan moved further into the town, you saw a large centre built that had the traditional Islamic architecure elements- huge domes, minarets, white pillars. The colourful tile works (prominents turqoise and dark blue themes) and a few gothic arches displayed the catholic influence as well.

"What's that?" You had asked one of the knights. "Thats the madarasas." You nodded as you recalled reading about it in "the golden age of Islam" era. Madarasa was essentially an educational institution that were devoted to the study of law, maths, science, medicine, religion, philosphy and other subjects. The complex itself consisted of a mosque, a library, a boarding house. They were home to both students and professors, and were maintained by charitable endowments and unlike a modern day college, it lacked a specific curriculum or institutionalise system of certification. Information was usually passed on informally from teacher to student, and both men and women were able to attend.

It was heaven for anyone who seeked to learn, and this was exactly where you would be going to get help for your time machine.

But that would have to wait, as you were now lead to Salauddin's palace for rest. It was massive and just like the madarasa, it was also beautifully constructed. The palace spread over on a large area of land, and although it was was around 80-100 feet in height with those humongous pillars at each corner, the palace was largest in horizontal dimensions. Inside, after passing a throng of soldiers stationed who kept their gaze lowered even though she and most of the females were completely veiled, you saw a huge pool that continued throughout the palace, even through sharp corners. It almost looked like the castle was built around the turquoise pool. Despite it being hot as hell outside, the palace was cool and insulated even though there were no air conditioners or fans and was open enough to be well ventilated. You had seen the palm date trees through the city, but there was a huge new variety of exotic plants inside that you dont think would be able to survive in the desert.

Egyptians were truly ahead of their time.

After dinner, you were sitting in your room with your maids. They were talking about the hospitality of Muslims and all, helping you unpack and get ready for bed.

"Alright, time to sleep." You said with a yawn and they all immediately began leaving. All but one maid, who had to stay by your side at all times even when you were bathing. Apparently, Baldwin had ordered her to do so because he didnt trust anyone in the foreign lands.

"You can go to your chambers with the others, Isabella." You smiled politely at the blonde girl, no older than 19. She shook her head, her brows furrowing in concern. "No, princess. It is my duty to be with you at all times. What if you need me for something?"

"I wont." You smiled tightly. The sooner she left, the sooner you could sneak out of here and go to the madarasa. "You must be tired from all the travel. Please, go rest. I insist." But it was like she couldnt imagine committing a grave sin like this.

Fine. If she's not going to leave then-

"Isabella..." you come close to her, fiddling with your thumbs. "Can I trust you, Isabella?"

She nodded obediently. "Of course, my princess."

"I need to get out of the palace for some time." You tell her slowly, letting her absorb the words. Automatically, she responds. "I can have them arrange a tour tomorrow-"

"No, Isabella-" you let out a distressed sigh, rubbing your forehead as you paused for a dramatic effect. "I need to go out right now."

"Now? At night time?" The young girl wondered what possible emergency you could possibly have. "Oh, um- well, I can have the guards prepare a-"

"No!" You turned around, reaching for her hands. Isabella's eyes widened. A princess- royalty is touching her? You tilted your head sligtly, eyes making a desperate plea.

"I have business that I need to take care of on my own. I-" you sigh dramatically before looking at her with most remorseful eyes. "I have to find my family. I need to- I cant get married without them attending. I- I- just need them and I know! I know they're here! I can feel it!" Isabella's face softened at your "distress" but you can still see her hesitance, and so before she could protest, you squeezed her hands. "I tell everyone I am an orphan but- the the truth is... I was a slave. I was stolen from my family and- and I was raised with other slaves. It wasnt until I was 8 that I had ran away. I've been running from my owners for a long time, all while trying to find my family. I dont care if they're dead but- I need to know. I need to know, Isabella. You... you understand why, right?"

Tears slipped from Isabella's eyes as she nodded her head feverently.

"Of course I do, princess!"

You pulled your shawl around you tighter. Temperatures really did drop significantly at night in deserts. You were now standing outside the madarasa you had seen earlier in the day after convincing Isabella to stay behind and pretend to be you under the covers in bed while you went out.

The building was much more quiet now, although the market was still alive but people were less and everyone was mindful of how much noise they made.

You quietly walked into the madarasa, pretending to be one of the several servants who were entering the place. Inside, the area was designed in the shape of a rectangle without a roof in the center. The moon light illuminated the common ground in the middle while lanterns were lit all around the 4 sides, numerous doors on each side.

Keeping your veiled head down, you walked past many scholars and students. You wanted to enter a room, but with all the doors closed, you feared you'd enter the wrong room with someone who wouldnt be as forgiving to a stranger entering this place.

But luck was on your side tonight, as your eyes finally caught sight of an ajar door, and you slipped in once you noticed no one was currently in the room. The room was far more spacious than you had anticipated and even though the equipment was far too old, you recognised it to be a sort of lab. Nearing the desk in the corner, you noticed some papers spread around with some maths done. Even though the numbers were in Arabic, you recognised it- algebra.

"What are you doing here, woman?" You look upto find a man in his late 30s with a white turban and a black beard looking at you angrily. "Who sent you here? By Allah! Leave right now or I will have you punished for trespassing and attempting to seduce a pious man you devil-"

"I'll leave but I cant go without correcting your error." You said pointing to his papers.

He blinked at you. "What error?"

You laughed tauntingly. "Im surprised you dont see it." The man's brows furrowed as he marched over to you. "There is no error! I am the finest mathematician of this decade, if not century! I study astrology, biology, physics, alchemy, philosophy and you dare tell me that I made an error?! I am Al-Abbas ibn Bashir! Who are you to correct me woman?!"

You stared at him unamused. "The square root of 8 is not equal to the square root of 4 + square root of 4." You said pointing at his paper. He squinted at you, trying to process your words before looking where you were pointing.

"Yes, it is. It is additive-"

"Not everything is additive." You sighed, pulling out a blank sheet of paper and solving the question step by step for him. "See? Square root of 8 is 2.818 while square root of 4 is 2, so since we have two square roots if 4, it'll be 2 plus 2, which adds to 4."

You sat down on his chair while he looked over your explanation, trying to find an error in your work. There were none.

Abbas looked at you, brows still furrowed. "You- fine, you are correct. I made a small error-" "Small?" You teased. "Yes, small!" He snapped back as you chuckled. He continued. "But that doesnt explain what youre doing in my office. Who are you?"

You rested your head on your palm and stared at him. "I have work for you."

"And what might that be?"

"Hmm, depends. Are your studies purely theory based or... experimental as well?"

Abbas gave you a nod. "I like to mainly focus on theories, but I like to test my theories as well, so from time to time, I do have to conduct experiments as well."

"Fantastic!" You straightened up and grabbed a paper as you began drawing a tool. "Here, I have mentioned the dimensions and I need you to engineer this for me." He took the paper from you. "What exactly is it?"

"I cannot tell you." "Why?" "Well, I'm a scientist too, and I dont want you to stealing my work." You replied as you pulled out your coin purse that Baldwin had given you. "I suppose this would be sufficient for you?" You placed 5 gold coins in front of him.

Abbas scoffed. "You think you can buy me? I dont care for money!" He stood up, turning away from you.

You raised your brow. "Name your price."

He shook his head. "I cannot be bought, woman. I am a man of science. I have far more important things to be doing with my time-"

"Like making more mistakes?" He glared at you. "One small error. Thats all it was. Besides, just because I made a small miscalculation doesnt mean youre smarter than me."

You smiled under your veil.

"Wanna test that?"

Abbas had decided to work for you after you had outsmarted him in every subject he presented. I mean you only had to touch the basics of what you had learned in 6th grade science class but he was- bamboozled.

After he had recovered from his shock, he had agreed to work for you on the condition that you check his work for mistakes and impart some of you teachings. He swears he wont copy any of your "works". You gave him the gold coins and told him to work under complete discretion and that you'd meet him again in 3 days time, when you're ready to return to Jerusalem.

The plan was to collect your tool from him and then give him a couple more tools to design which you would collect 2 weeks later when you visited Egypt again. Because while you do need to work on your time machine, you also need to find ways for Baldwin to go to war with Salauddin again, because originally Baldwin dies of leprosy, but since you already cured that... you need to find a way for Baldwin to die and so far, a war seems to be the only answer.

But youve seen their relationship... Baldwin and Salauddin wouldn't simply jeopardise everything like that. They have a good bond, a strong friendship even.

However, if highschool has taught you anything, even the closest friendships end because of misunderstandings.

And so, a week later, you were back in Jerusalem with your new tool and a new plan in mind.

You walked up the stairs and towards Baldwin's office. Since you had arrived earlier than he was expecting, you wanted to surprise him. Honestly, you missed him and his adorable expressions-

You stopped at the foot of the door, your heart dropping at the sight.

Baldwin and a woman... kissing.

Thoughts? Also send asks

#yandere baldwin #yandere king baldwin #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #yandere x y/n #yandere x you #yandere boyfriend #obsessive yandere #baldwin iv #king baldwin iv #koh #yandere salauddin

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teaboot · 1 year

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While I'm happy that the word "gaslighting" is more known than it used to be, and that people at large are learning to recognize what it looks like, I feel like we need to be careful not to turn it into something soft and casual we throw around off the cuff without meaning.

Being gaslit is psychological abuse that fucks you up very badly, very slowly, at such a gradual pace that you don't usually know it's happening until it's already re-wired your brain.

If you're unfamiliar with the term, "to gaslight" is to intentionally persuade someone that they cannot trust their own perceptions of reality. It's a destabilizing form of manipulation that leaves you constantly anxious, off-balanced, confused, and dependant on others.

This is done by lying about events that have happened or about things that are happening, invalidating feelings and observations, and either denying, refusing to acknowledge, or deflecting away from hard facts.

As someone who has experienced gaslighting as a form of abuse, this is what I remember from when I didn't know anything was off:

"Oh, I must have forgotten what really happened."

"I'm just not seeing it from their point of view."

"Everyone has their ups and downs. This is normal."

"I guess I wasn't thinking about what I was doing."

"I must have been wrong."

This is what I remember from when I first started realizing something was weird:

"How come every time I'm convinced they did something wrong, they just talk to me a few minutes, and I end up asking for their forgiveness? What has me so convinced I was right in the first moment?"

"I should start writing things down when they happen, so I can go back and check later when I'm confused."

"If every relationship like ours (familial, romantic, platonic) works this way, how come I never hear about it, or read about it, or see it anywhere else?"

Getting out and adjusting to the real world is hard, too, and comes with rapid swings of unfounded guilt, shame, fear, anxiety, and self-deprication that are completely unfounded in reality.

You've been conditioned to believe that you are entirely helpless and unable to think for yourself, possibly "crazy" or otherwise fundamentally impaired, and that there is a singular source of guidance that knows exactly what is right, and all of a sudden that pillar of support has vanished.

The immediate "after" that I recall looks like:

Constant uncertainty. Because nobody is there to tell you what's real and what isn't, you approach every situation thinking at it from all angles. Every question has fifty possible answers and most of them are wrong and you don't know which. If you choose wrong, the world will end.

A sense of helplessness. You feel that nothing you do is correct, and it's easier to make no choices at all- or you make wild, reckless, impulsive choices, because you feel you have nothing to lose.

Memory loss. I don't understand this one, but it's not like memoriescare being erased, but more like... you're so used to treating your memories as dreams or imaginations that you reflexively dismiss anything you recall as fake, and you can't believe anything you recall because you don't think it was real. Your abusers voice is in your head, wiping things away and telling you that you did the wrong thing. And you believe them, because they're the only constant you can rely on.

Missing the abuser, or the abusive dynamic. Because you know now that it wasn't healthy, but at least you knew where you stood. As long as you said the right things and acted the right way, agreed and obeyed and did as they expected, you felt like thevworld made sense. Now you have to figure out which parts of you really are broken, and which parts are working fine in a really weird way, and it's like tuning a piano when you've never played one before.

The long term "after"- for which I can only speak for myself- looks like:

Having to double-check, triple-check, and continue checking hard evidence of an event before responding in an active way.

Consulting with trusted friends to verify that your observations are legitimate and that your perceptions are valid. Following up with them to see if someone is really angry at you, or if you're just projecting anger onto them because it's what makes sense to your old pattern.

Obsessive collection of "evidence"- saving pictures, writing detailed journals, making recordings and video, never deleting emails or old texts, because you still don't quite trust yourself all the way and you're afraid that someone will cause you to doubt yourself again.

Continued self-doubt and being "gullible": I have straight up seen people flip me off to my face in front of witnesses and then immediately tell me, "No, I was just waving", and my first instinct is to believe them. For a few seconds, I *really do* believe them. Your brain is so trained to latch onto what people tell you to believe that its really, really hard to hold onto information that you already have.

Learning to take ownership over your own actions. (I didn't mess up because I'm "crazy", I messed up because I'm a person and people do that.)

Instinctively seeking approval. (Takes a lot of work to remind myself that I don't exit to make people happy, and that some people suck ass, and I can tell them to piss off.)

I don't intend to invalidate anyone currently struggling with this- if you feel that something is wrong, it probably is. That's the thought that got me out. Trust that feeling that something isn't right.

I just want people who don't know what to look for to know what gaslighting *actually* looks and feels like, so they don't just roll their eyes and think, "Oh, that word doesnt apply to me- I'm not some snowflake".

('Cause we all saw what happened with "triggered", right?)

#Gaslighting #Abuse #Information #Psychological abuse

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changeling-droneco · 1 month

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Hi I'm that person who made the original post about "no doesn mean no" when a small bit of the mr beast company document was leaked, well, now we have the full document (thanks rosanna) so I'm going to go over it. Please note I am not a lawyer or a business man, I'm in college for psychology, so I might misunderstand some things or make the wrong conclusion. However, if this is a document made for the average mr. beast employee, if I cannot understand it properly, then im sure some employees also struggled

First of all, the opening paragraph. Like I get it's supposed to be like, to put people at ease, but

This is so strange? Like, first of all, this is your EMPLOYEE MANUAL, you should have run it through like, a spell check? Or had someone edit it? This is already incredibly unprofessional. Also the promising of a thousand dollars if you pass a quiz on it? It's bizarre and I'd love to see if it's an actual quiz.

Jimmy, hun, please god get an editor for this you're already trying my patience.

YOU SHOULD, you genuinely should, while interconnected these are all COMPLETELY different jobs, if you think you could write a separate manual for each branch you SHOULD

I'm sure I'm about to get an answer but what the fuck is the best YOUTUBE video then? If it's not comedy, its not production, its not quality, its not look, then what the hell is left? (monetization, it's monetization)

First of all, Jimmy, why are you using internet lingo in this, it's not a text message, this is not a place for, idc, and lol, and not capitalizing your headers correctly??? Also like I said, he's chasing trends for monetization, and also he's just wrong, there are plenty of hollywood level shows and the like on youtube. You fully admit you do not care about trends and actively rush things?

This is just fucked??? Like of COURSE IT MATTERS??? Results based company is bullshit, your employees that worked for five weeks and failed aren't "lesser" then James, it's a structural failure! They still worked for HOURS to try and succeed?? That shows merit and loyalty??? What the fuck???

Rosanna covers this one in her video but it's worth restating that this is FUCKED??? It's clear overwork "your job is your family" culture. Especially the use of the word obsessive? If you do not OBSESS over your work, you are considered poisonous. NO WONDER we have so many reports of employees doing things they feel is dangerous or unsafe, if they don't they're considered POISON to the company.

The formatting in this doc continues to fucking kill me, what are you DOING man GET AN EDITOR

This feels like such an easy fix of just...make the thumbnail after the fact? Or only make a rough draft of one first? Like if production makes a red bouncy castle instead of a yellow one, that feels like an easy fix to the thumbnail OR a communication error, and again, that's on management

A lot of the next stuff is like analytics stuff that for the most part I can't really speak on as someone who does not do any of this stuff. There are a few things though

Which like???? what??? a lull??? what do you mean "watching a video without even realizing they are watching a video??" That doesn't scream good or even mediocre content to me. If I'm actively tuning out as I watch a video, that's bad. Especially because there have been plenty of times I've been like half way through a video i go "hey this sucks actually" and click off. They actively want their audience to not be paying attention to the video so it runs all the way through, that's kinda pathetic.

I don't actually know if this is common or not in this industry, but as an outsider this seems INCREDIBLY micromanaging to me, to an immense degree.

Jimmy why are you putting swears in your employee manual?? sir??? and also something about this whole thing icks me out, I don't quite have the words but the whole emphasis on "im different im special no one else can be me" just reeks of something kind of manipulative

Why is production changing so much Jimmy??? Infinite growth is the mindset of a cancer cell Jimmy! This is incredibly unstable working conditions! Also again with the word obsession, if you take time out of your own day on your own time to watch hulu, that's seen as not being obsessed enough for the company. This is nonsensical!

Again, this is INSANELY micromanaging, and also so fucking unhinged??? "God himself couldn't stop you from making this video on time" is NOT a healthy work mindset, things HAPPEN!!!

In this segment he's actually talking normal things but I did just want to highlight his use of "freaken" who the hell puts that in an EMPLOYEE MANUEL

Again with the micromanaging, and the immense pressure on employees for problems OTHER people do. While he's not fully wrong that you should be in more contact with the contractor then the example, this is too much in the other direction. How much time in the day does he think people have?!

My kingdom for a fucking paragraph break dude, my fucking eyes. Also this is a lot of "im so great and do everything and you should do more for me and if i dont know something that's your fault" for something titled "I am not always right"

I'm getting lazy with my highlighting, but again, the micromanaging? If you're SOOO busy, the first question should be the ideal? it's quick and makes a quick decision, while the second one meanders and meanders

Again, Jimmy is pushing blame for HIS mistakes on OTHER PEOPLE. For again, a section called "i am not always right" hes taking NO accountability for that and just making the SAME excuses he's berating in other places.

I can't even tell what he means here AN EDITOR JIMMY

Autism Hell tm, PLEASE email me so I can DOUBLE CHECK IT, things in writing are SO useful

Again the language towards "C-Players" which as mr beast has said, are the people who y'know, are NORMAL employees who DON'T live and breathe this company

Okay first of all, a Lamborghini is like 300k so that's already A REALLY hard task, and i sure hope don't usually put typos in the tasks. SECOND of all the fact he thinks its okay to go "hey if the studio is literally on fire around you and you stop working to get the Lamborghini, you're not doing good enough" even if he claims it as a joke is NOT OKAY what the FUCK

We've covered this before, but to reiterate this segment is named after a sexual assault reference when it could have been named ANYTHING ELSE and harasses employees and pressures them to break rules, don't do that.

I'm not an editor, so maybe this is normal, but as someone from the outside it seems strange to put this much emphasis on dividing focus between so many videos at once.

Jimmy, hun, are you paying extra for this? Because if I'm an editor and you want me FILMING stuff then i want to be paid more for doing TWO jobs and I probably still wont be as skilled a TRAINED CAMERA MAN

First of all now THAT'S a type, consteatants. Also the fact they are aware that leaving contestants out in the sun is bad, why are you not doing MORE TO STOP IT BEYOND "hey maybe giving them three hours of heatstroke is bad, try only two next time"

Don't we love favoritism, more shitty unprofessional writings, and a completely unstable work environment?

If your people have to pull all nighters period something is wrong, and if something happens to an employees car that could have seriously hurt someone, i sure hope you care more then just "LOL FUNNY" Who's picking up the broken glass? Who's reimbursing the car owner? That one meme of "your first care should be commitment to the bit" is a MEME jimmy, it's not ACTUAL ADVICE

Ah shit I hit image limit, well, you've seen enough screenshots to know these are screenshots, we're almost done I'll put them in as quotes

"Let’s say you are tasked with finding us a castle to live in for 50 hours and while doing research you find a castle and a number to call for the owner. So you do call, and he answers. Only problem is he says he quit the castle renting business to pursue his dream of building a 100 foot tall lego catapult. You can obviously tell where i’m going with this. Ideally you’d recognize that’s badass as fuck and try to convince him to let us use it when we do find a castle. This is a bad example because it’s so obvious but if you’re doing your job right you will be doing an absurd amounts of calls and data collecting. While trying to complete your prios and prepare for the video you should always be on the lookout for new things you can bring to your creative team to inspire them. Because just like me, they don’t know what they don’t know and you can’t just say “i’m in production and i’m not very creative” because that’s literally the equivalent of saying I suck at what I do. You also need to apply this same mindset when problem solving because many people lose sight of this stuff when in the weeds. If a problem appears, always always always ask yourself if your new plan is whats best for creative, not just the easiest bandaid."

First of all it's really funny seeing all the red lines pop up, second of all this insistent blurring of everyone's job seems so strange? Again maybe this is normal, but it really feels like Jimmy wants everyone working every job, instead on focusing on what they are actually hired to do.

"What is the goal of our content?

To excite me. The goal of our content is to excite me. That may sound weird to some of you, especially if you’re new but to me it’s what’s most important. If I'm not excited to get in front of that camera and film the video, it’s just simply not going to happen."

That's fucking weirddddd, like I get that he's trying to be like "im authentic" but it always feels like a bad sign when the goal of a company is literally just "What amuses the boss" like...bad sign

"this is youtube and there are constraints. You know the video can’t be a minute so you’re obviously going to need a story to hold the viewers and there are rules to storytelling. Our audience is massive and because of that you have to be simple, for 50 million people to understand something it must be simple. Content can be anything but there is structure and rules that we must mold it into that I want to teach you about, because virality doesn’t just happen. Every frame of our videos will be seen by 10s of millions of people"

Gross

"I'd say the average MrBeast viewer is a teenage memer that likes video games."

Mr Beast is completely aware of his demographic and puts screen shots of it, he is very aware his stuff is aimed at kids, even when its about gambling or hiring people not around near minors

"I feel silly for having to write this but all the time I talk to 32 new people that have at most seen like 5 or 6 of our videos and it’s mind blowing that they don’t see a problem with that lol."

It's almost like your audience is teenage memer and that people who working here are not in fact, teenage memers.

"What you consume on social media, when you watch youtube, tv, the games you play, etc. are what I like to call your information diet.

How do you stay up to date on the latest memes? How do you know what’s going on with celebrities? What’s trending on youtube? What other creators are doing? What’s popping on tik tok? Your information diet. Consume things on a daily basis that help you write better content."

If my job as a creative writer had my boss tell me to have to see whats "popping on tik tok" as part of my job i'd quit also again, the micromanaging of someone's life as well pops up again, it's weirddd

"It’s okay for the boys to be childish

If talent wants to draw a dick on the white board in the video or do something stupid, let them. (assuming they know all the risks and arn’t missing context on why it’s not safe) People like when we are in our natural element of stupidity. Really do everything you can to empower the boys when filming and help them make content. Help them be idiots"

More favoritism

"If you’ve made it this far you are probably at least semi interested in this being your career. So I wanted to chat about it. Because if you're ambitious and want to dedicate your life to work, you picked the best company in America to do it at. I really don’t care to hoard a bunch of money and I deeply believe in rewarding the people that help this business get where it needs to be. But before I get into that, let’s talk about the future. As I write this we have 2 teams, that will grow to 4 in the next year. (and possibly 8 in the next 2 years but I can’t talk about that cause james will kill me haha). We need more leaders in the company. Weneed hard working, obsessive, coachable, intelligent, grinders that can step up and take some of these leadership spots over the next 2 years. Every single department has an opportunity for you to grow in and you’re in luck because we don’t do yearly reviews. We do whenever the fuck you want reviewes"

Lack of communication from management, and more emphasis on grinding and crunch culture, goodie, all while riddled with typos! God.

"I see a world where this company is worth billions and one day 10s of billions. And those of you that help build this will be rewarded. I want nothing more then for you to go all in, obsessive all day everyday, and become so god dam valuable this company can’t operate without you. And in return for becoming so valuable I hope to give you incredible experiences, a fun place to work, and of course, more money then you could ever dream of making at any other company."

I feel like I'm reading a fucking pyramid scheme document here, "youre so so valuable spend literally every minute of every day on this company haha" good GOD man

#mr beast #rosanna pansino #dogpack404 #jake weddle #this has been three am thoughts

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angstingantlers · 3 months

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Perfectly Clean Mind Control

Whump: psychological abuse, mind control, manipulation, identity altering, (de)conditioning, paranoia.

Mind control that doesn't dominate your thoughts, it just... is your thoughts. Perfectly rewriting your will and everything it embodies. Not a single trace of resistance because this is just what you want. Why would you resist your own thoughts? Why would you disagree with your own motivations, your own desires?

Mind control that doesn't shatter once it's done, it just disappears. You don't snap back into awareness. You barely even notice. You just continue as if nothing ever happened. Maybe one moment you look back and you frown, because thinking on it, you remember when you happily followed that person out of town, and you remember what you did, you remember wanting to... but that's crazy. Why did you think that was okay? Why did you want to do that?

Or maybe you were under this mind control for so long that even once it's over you look back and say, "Oh, of course I did that." As far as you're concerned you've always held the beliefs you do now. You've always wanted to do these things. You don't remember why, but you've never had to think of why, and it doesn't matter anyway when you've always been so confident that you're right. It isn't until you're challenged on it all and reminded that you never used to be like this, that you were different before, that something has changed that you finally falter. And you try to think of where this all started, try to figure out why things changed -- and all you can really remember is an entrancing pair of eyes, and a gentle suggestion, and then your own mouth responding, "That's a great idea. Let's go."

And suddenly, you realise that you have no idea how much of what you are, what you were, and what you believed you always have been is just a lie. You don't know whether any thought you have now is really yours or just another preciously placed prompt. You don't trust your impulses, you don't trust your desires, you definitely don't trust your judgement.

You don't trust yourself. And you never can again.

#writing prompt #whump prompt #whump concept #whump #psychological whump #mind control #conditioning #deconditioning #whumpblr #whump community #This is my first time using these community tags - do let me know if I've missed something or am using something wrong.#oc: root of all evil #oc: a sad guitar

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yandere-daydreams · 7 months

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Title: Azure Haze.

Pairing: Yandere!Dottore x Reader (Genshin).

Word Count: 0.9k.

TW: Unhealthy Relationships, Controlling Behavior, Manipulation, and Psychological Abuse.

[Commissioned piece. Donate to Palestinians in Gaza here.]

You’d never taken Dottore for the marrying type.

Not to imply that he was more of a rouge romantic, either, or dedicated enough to the Tsaritsa and her grand machinations to be married to his work, although he did clearly have a passion for experimentation. As a foot soldier, little more than a glorified errand-runner for the higher-ranking officers, you used to think of him (and the other Harbingers, by association) as almost god-like – gifted by your archon with eternal life and distorted by the weight of his many centuries, made too divine to ever feel tethered to something so intrinsically human. When you’d worked more closely to his side, you’d seen him as more demonic than anything; emotive but malicious by nature, uninterested in those beyond the part they played in the progression of his studies.

You wondered, sometimes, if his treatment of you was all a part of some elaborate, prolonged experiment. You wouldn’t put it beyond him, even if it did seem a little less gory than his usual whims. The heartlessness of it fit, though.

If Dottore could be relied on to be anything, it was cruel.

The ring, itself, is surprisingly unoffensive. You turn it over once, then twice in your hand, running the pad of your index finger over the sleek, silver metal. A pinpoint of sapphire glints up at you from where it’s nestled into the unornamental base, and a part of you is thankful that it’s not something more ostentatious, that he hadn’t committed to his musings on palm-sized diamonds and gold so pure and so polished, the archons would be able to see it from their thrones in Celestia. Another, disparate faction can only be devastated that it would take so little for him to claim you so completely.

“Is it not to your taste, love?” Dottore, your soon-to-be betrothed, asks. He’s positioned himself strategically, in spite of the limited space; on the other side of the exhibition table, allowing you just enough distance to breathe, but remaining between you and the door to the jewelry shop’s only private consultation room, ensuring you wouldn’t be able to run, not without passing him. The jeweler is mysteriously absent, but you can’t be surprised. Dottore has never been especially possessive, but he seems to prefer it when your attention remains undivided. “There are several more options, if you find my preferences lacking.”

Your eyes fall to the neat line of ring boxes on display in front you. Some are more gaudy than others, but they’re all silver, all studded with the same vibrant sapphires. Your gaze catches on one with curved, pointed teeth locking a roughly cut gem into place, then fall back to your lap. “Are you going to pick one out?”

His response comes in the form of a quick shake of his head, a coy smile. “Jewelry tends to get in the way of lab work. I’ll have to find another way to show my affection – a breastpin, perhaps, or a scale replica of your heart mounted on the wall of my office.”

You try to summon the revulsion you once had for his grisly humor, but fail to feel anything at all. At least he only claimed to want a replica, this time. “I won’t have to wear mine, then, will I?”

“You will.” His tone leaves no room for debate, but he continues regardless. “Unless you want me to remove your ring fingers and ensure it remains on a part of you myself, that is.”

You swallow dryly. “Both ring fingers?”

“One can never be too thorough.”

You purse your lips. Your fingers twitch once, then twice before dropping the ring in your hand and taking up another from its bed of velvet. The base on your newest selection is unique – crafted in disparate, thorned bands to make it seem as if it’d been made from braided vines, a pair of softly curling leaves encircling the jewel bed. It’s the gem that holds you, though; a shade lighter than the others when it catches the light, closer to a ruddy aquamarine than pure, never-ending blue. You slide it in front of Dottore before you can think better of it. “This one.”

To his credit, his smile doesn’t waver. “Are you sure? The gem is—”

“I’m sure,” you cut him off, almost breathlessly. “I… I like the color. I think it’s charming.”

He takes another moment to evaluate the ring, and then, to evaluate you – fighting not to shake in your seat. Finally, with an airy sigh, he shakes his head, his grin taking on a softened note. “Of course, love. Whatever makes you happiest.”

Measurements are jotted, the ring taken in for resizing with promises of swift craftsmanship. Days later, one of Dottore’s foot soldiers (and your former colleague) delivers a small, gold-foil wrapped box to you – a note from your dearly betrothed attached. You throw away the note without reading it and tear the box open. On a bed of cerulean velvet sat a silver ring of braided thorns, adorned with a single—

You let out a shallow, shuddering breath, tears already welling in the corners of your eyes.

A silver ring, adorned with a single, glimmering stud of the purest, darkest sapphire you’d ever seen.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact imagines #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin #genshin x reader #genshin imagines #genshin #yandere dottore #dottore x reader

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teine-mallaichte · 2 months

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We need to expand our use of dilirium within the whump community I think.

When people see the prompt "dilirium" or "dilirious" in a whump event most jump to fever, illness, infection. And that's fine. That's valid. But there is SO MUCH MORE to dilirium.

Delirium is a complex psychological state that can indeed be triggered by illness and fever, but it can also result from a wide array of other causes. It’s a state where cognition and coherence deteriorate, where reality may start to frey at the edges leaving the whumpee confused, disorientated, maybe unable to even distinguish reality.

You can drive a character into a dilirious state without any external factors. A characters cognition and coherence can be picked to the brink by so many things.

1. Extreme Sleep Deprivation: this is a favourite of mine. A whumpee kept awake for days on end, their cognitive functions begin to deteriorate, the boundary between wakefulness and sleep blurs, leading to fractured and disjointed thought processes. The mind starts to struggle to maintain coherence, resulting in hallucinations and a profound disorientation.

2. Substance Withdrawal: Not one I've explored much, but can totally count. The body and mind in chaos, craving what they can no longer have. The physical symptoms can be brutal, but the psychological torment can drive them into a state of delirium, where reality becomes a shifting, unreliable landscape.

3. Psychological Torture: Another one I tend to gravitate to. Intense psychological manipulation, sensory deprivation or overwhelm can also drive the mind into delirium. Continuous gaslighting, isolation, or exposure to disturbing stimuli can erode a characters grasp on reality, leading to a state where they can no longer distinguish between truth and illusion.

4. Emotional Trauma: this a mental breakdown. Severe emotional trauma pushing a whumpee into a to their mental limits. The overwhelming stress and fear fracturing their mind, causing confusion, disorientation, dissociation, hallucinations as their psyche tries to protect itself and struggles to make sweetheart if what's happened/happening.

5. Overwhelming Physical Pain: Pain, just pain, if relentless and severe enough, can lead to delirium. A whumpee in constant, excruciating pain might find their mind breaking under the strain, leading to confusion, disorientation, and a detachment from reality.

6. Fever: and just because it can't really be left of the list, fever. Infections, illness, etc. But did you know there is more than one kind of dilirium? Yes there is the sick whumpee who is too weak too most and admits all their insecurities and secrets in a slurred disjointed major. But there is also the type of dilirium where the character becomes energetic, erratic behavior, pacing incessantly and speaking rapidly, refusing to rest. Frustrating and worrying for those trying to help.

And this is just the ones of the top of my head. There's so much potential here! And yes this is a very self indulgent and selfish post that I wrote while writing a fic where I am inducing dilirium in a character through acute stress and an identity crisis 😅 but in short - I want to see more varied portrayals of dilirium in whump.

A similar post about hallucinations A similar post about fever

#whump community #whump dilirious #whump prompt #whump writing #slight rant #whump ideas #whumpy thoughts

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ilsanslut · 10 months

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TREAT YOU BETTER! [2]

♰ featuring: itoshi sae + itoshi rin [blue lock]

♰ note: do i even need to mention how anticipated this part was? i will mention though, that it did take me quite some time to write this and i tried to proofread it to the best of my ability, but i do apologize if there are some minor errors. lastly, sorry for putting it off for so long due to my hiatus, i hope you all enjoy!

sypnosis: the itoshi brothers punish you for your 'infidelity'. wc: 6.5k content/trigger warning(s): 18+. fem/fem-bodied reader. POST BLUE LOCK. rin is 19. sae is 21. sibling rivalry. implied thick/chubby!reader. EXTRA MEAN!RIN. possessive!rin. cocky!sae. bully!itoshi brothers. they are both assholes in this fic. PRIOR MENTIONS OF CHEATING. degradation. unprotected sex. fingering. squirting. rough sex. DUBIOUS CONTENT. spanking. dacryphilia. slut-shaming. groping. double-penetration. implied size kink. skull/throat-fucking. choking/borderline asphyxiation. minor angst. hair pulling. manhandling. breeding. excessive mentions of drool/spit + rin's focused mode. IMPACT PLAY (face slapping, tit slapping, cock/pussy slapping). basically, they really fuck you up but they swear it’s out of love. aftercare! ꒷꒦

view part one of TREAT YOU BETTER here: part one.

If purgatory was real, you were most certainly in it now. Penalized for your past life's sins and transgressions, you were chained and perched atop a platform before your accusers, between the heavens and the depths of hell. Except now, that platform was Rin’s bed, and the only eyes upon you were his and Sae’s—the latter of which continued to bore into your own as the rhythmic slapping of his hips against your ass refused to cease. And even now, there was that sickening twinkle in his eyes, full of sinister joy as he basked in the warped satisfaction of your psychological suffering. How lovely he found you, those plump tears streaming down your ruined cheeks—if he could, he would frame that photo for his foyer. How your plump brims continued to babble out pleas for him to stop, for him to slow down, to please let you catch your breath so that you could process the situation you found yourself in, but he didn’t. He wouldn’t. Not until you creamed around his cock in front of your pretty lil’ boyfriend, that is.

While you, on the other hand, were currently battling the inner turmoil the two demonic brothers were putting you through. In your head, Rin’s word’s played on a loop like a broken record, plagued to repeat that same damned phrase over and over again. ‘You told me you would wait, Nii-chan.’

They plotted against you, laid out the trap, and like the oblivious bunny you are, you stumbled right into the wolf’s den.

“Y’see this, Rinnie~?” Sae drawled breathlessly, using his free hand that wasn’t holding your hair to cup your jaw, manipulating your head in his sibling’s direction while he placed his chin atop your shoulder. Forced to once again meet the eyes of your lover, you would immediately notice the contemptuous and repulsed glare he used to stab into you like a searing, hot iron blade straight into your heart. But you could never miss the desire beneath his teal eyes—desire that almost turned his current enmity for you into lust. Should you venture to cast your eyes any lower, you would also observe the brewing tent inside his sweatpants, pushing the fabric to its absolute limit.

“What d’you think is making poor Y/N cry like this, hm? The fact that she’s been caught in her infidelity or this fat cock pummeling her tight cunt?” You could feel Sae’s wolfish grin against your flesh as he spoke, dragging sharp canines across the skin of your shoulder as his own teal oculars met his brother’s.

“Both.” Rin stated bluntly before his expression would twist sourly, his upper lip curling into a sneer while his eyes narrowed on you with malicious intent. “Though if I were to guess, I bet it’s your cock since she’s a little cockslut who can’t be satisfied with just one man’s dick.” He spat as he reached his hand up to undo the zipper on his windbreaker, pulling it down slowly to reveal his equally, if not more, built form than Sae’s.

“Oh~” Sae jeered much to your chagrin, slowing the pace of his hips so he could press himself flush against your ass and languidly hump his cock into you. Unfortunately, you were unable to keep your delighted mewls from slipping past your brims as his thick cock caressed your fluttering walls. “Y’hear that, princess? Even your boyfriend thinks that you’re a cock-addicted whore.” He used his grip on your hair and chin to mockingly shake your head back and forth, feigning pity in his tone to add more fuel to your smoldering fire.

He leaned into your ear, soft lips pressing right against your lobe as his teeth captured the soft flesh between his teeth, snarling lowly. “How d’you think he’d feel knowing that you were about to make a mess on my cock, huh?”

Amidst your whimpers and pleasured mewls, you frantically shook your head, trying your hardest to deny the accusation as Rin’s fixed glare on you only grew more scrutinizing. “M’not, m’not gonna��!” On the contrary, your body would deny your vehement retorts made prevalent by your quivering thighs, heightened moans, and the sinful way your walls clung to Sae's cock.

“Don’t fucking lie to me” Sae hissed in your ear, releasing his grip on your chin to quickly swat the fattened flesh of your breast, drawing a squeal from your lips. “Y’don’t think I can’t feel this greedy cunt sucking me in? Trying to milk me of everything I have, huh?”

“N-No! Ngh~! Sae, I-I can’t—”

Your cries were silenced when an opposing hand would soon grip your chin, forcing your gaze to meet the second set of teal eyes belonging to none other than Rin. He glowered down at you, his blunt nails digging into the soft flesh of your cheeks. Even with your strong reluctance to acknowledge it, Rin's intense gaze was enough to make you clamp harder around Sae.

“Cum on his cock, Y/N.” He ordered, his voice barely above a twisted growl. “It’s the only thing pretty sluts like you are good at, right?” His grip loosened for naught but a second to drag the pad of his thumb across your drooling and babbling brims. “Unless, you’re not . . . care to try and prove me wrong?”

You tried—you really, really tried—to hold back your orgasm, to prove Rin wrong, but the tantalizing way Sae pounded his length into you was intoxicating—tainting your mind with one need and one need only—your release. Your fists pounded against Sae's thighs behind you, trying to get midfeilder off of you, or at the very least to slow down—but it was futile. Your back rumbled from the vibrations in Sae's chest as he chuckled, his forearm caging itself around your neck and the crease of his other forearm pulling back his balled fist to effectively lock you in an unforgiving headlock, depriving your brain of precious oxygen. With your resolve all but diminished, you finally came undone before both your boyfriend and his elder brother.

All you could see was white as your vision blurred and your body seized as the coil in your tummy snapped, allowing your juices to flow out of you, fruitfully drenching both your and Sae's lower halves as well as the sheets beneath you. Your cries and pleas of euphoria filled the room, drowning out the lewd and now wet smacking sounds of Sae's pelvis against your ass, as well as he and his brother's mocking jeers. Without both of their grips on your body, you would have collapsed from the sheer intensity of it all, your body going limp as the ferocity of your orgasm nearly knocked you unconscious.

“Fuck yeah,” Sae groaned into your ear, though you were barely able to register it as he fucked you through your orgasm. “That’s it; that’s the stuff. Ngh, fuck. M’gonna cum too, gonna fill your pretty pussy to the brim.” He grunted as his thrusts grew sloppy from his impending orgasm.

But it never came. At least, not in the way you expected it.

At the last second before Sae finally came inside of you, your body cruelly hit the sheets as you were no longer supported by the strength of both men. On top of that, you suddenly felt horribly empty as the midfielder’s cock was wrenched out of you, leaving you to clench around nothing—though you were hardly in any state to utter a rebuttal.

In your daze, you heard the sounds of a struggle and Sae's enraged shout as you writhed between the sheets and something hot shot against your ass cheeks and lower back. Groggily, you mustered enough strength to push yourself up onto your elbows to glance over your shoulder, only to see a fucked-out and infuriated Sae forced back onto his haunches as Rin held his light auburn locks in a vice grip, equally, if not more, irate than his elder.

“What the fuck, Nii-chan.” Rin snarled, tugging Sae by his locks as if to enunciate his anger. “I thought we agreed that you weren’t allowed to cum inside of her, so what the fuck was that, huh?”

At first, Sae remained silent and merely opted to match Rin's glower with a quiet one of his own. Your weary eyes slid down, taking in his semi-hard cock that rested against his toned thighs, strings of yours and his arousal clinging to his girth, the thick lifts and falls of his chest, and the sweat trickling down his abs. Then your eyes shifted to Rin, where you noted the hardness of his angrily-clenched jaw, the furious downward pull of his thick brows over his captivating teal eyes, blazing with anger and betrayal, and the undeniable bulge that tugged at the material of his sweatpants.

The way your pussy clenched around nothing at the sight was unavoidable.

They were both too fucking hot for your own good.

“It’s not my fault that her greedy fuckhole wouldn’t let me go.” Sae snapped, smacking Rin’s fist from his locks. “And besides. . .” Something sinister arose on his features, tainting his expression with the need to torment the forward. “You heard her, didn’t you? She likes the way my cock fucks her more than yours anyway.”

You could hear a pin drop in the silence that followed after Sae’s bombshell of a statement. As you lay there, your heart raced, and a sense of unease washed over you, causing a pit of guilt to form in the pits of your tummy. Rin said nothing in response, staggering back from his brother with an incredulous and infuriated look before his face twisted into a maddened snarl, which Sae countered with a smug look. Had you looked even further, you could see the aura of their monstrous egos swirling around them, threatening to rip one another limb from limb.

“You motherfucker.” He growled, fists clenching with pure unadulterated rage as he lunged for his sibling yet again, only this time, you stepped in.

“Rin, stop!” You shouted, lunging forward to grab your boyfriend’s wrist before he could get his hands on Sae once more.

Rin's focus finally shifted to you, his eyes wide as clarity dawned on him for a moment, before the disdain and anger he felt for you at the time zeroed in on your form, immobilizing you where you kneeled. His fury was like a searing wave. It washed over you in that instant, and it was so intense that it made your knees weaken and your heart race. You’d seen him look at others like this before, but never directed at you before. His opponents, Isagi Yoichi, Shidou Ryusei, and even Sae on occasions, sure, but you? Never before in your life.

“You.” His tone was gutteral and animalistic, unlike anything you’d ever heard from Rin before.

Sae took advantage of the situation at that precise moment to slide off the mattress and out of dodge, but not before giving you a knowing wink and a sly look. Rin didn’t even seem to react to this. In fact, now that Sae was out of the picture, his arm dropped to his side, and you became the new target of his wrath.

It was as though you were peering into the eyes of a savage beast—of a starving lion who had finally cornered a gazelle who continuously fled and eluded the beast from her fate. Before you could react, Rin’s hands were on you, a strong hand wrapped around your neck to lift you from your haunches and into a proper kneeling position so that he could glower at you at eye level.

“Don’t you think for a second, Y/N, that you’re innocent in all of this.” He was seething, hissing through clenched teeth as you could feel his breath wafting over your frightened visage. “You know, the only reason that I returned home early from my jog was because Nii-chan told me that he had just arrived home? Do you know that it only took me ten minutes to come back after that?” You could feel his grip trembling in your veins, like he was holding himself back from lashing out at you further. "You mean to tell me that it only took him 600 seconds to strip you down and fuck you stupid on his cock in the mere minutes that he was here, huh? For you to forget your loyalty and love for me in only 10 minutes, Y/N?"

Tears that you hadn’t even realized had begun to spill streamed down your cheeks. Your heart ached with the knowledge that your actions had shattered trust and betrayed the trust of someone who had placed faith in you. In the midst of your tears, you struggled to find the right words to express the depths of your remorse. You wanted to take back your choices and undo the damage you had done, but you knew that you couldn't erase the past. It was far too late for that.

“But you know what,” Rin continued, his grip on your throat as well as his expression softening. “I’m not mad.” He whispered, his voice suddenly sincere. His hand left your neck entirely in favor of stroking your hair lovingly with his other caressing your cheek, a stark contrast to the unbridled wrath he had displayed toward you only moments before.

You blinked, dumbfounded. But you could not help but lean into his tenderness and crave his affection after such a strenuous situation, especially when he offered such gentle touches and words.

“Y-You’re not?” You whispered, your voice hopeful, as tears welded up in your eyes for a different reason now—out of joy.

Rin shook his head with the faintest of smiles on his face. “I’m not . . .” His tone remained soft, pressing a sweet kiss to your forehead that you found yourself falling into. Almost immediately, you were melting into him, graceful for your boyfriend’s compassion.

“I’m furious.”

In an instant, a switch had flipped, and once again, Rin turned the tables on you. Before you could respond, his fist became unbearably tight at the crown of your hair, pulling mercilessly at the roots before he tugged your gaze to meet his, ablaze with fury. Now, it was your turn to look betrayed as your pretty eyes widened with both incredulity and fear as you gaped at your lover and the sinister look in his eye.

“But don’t worry. I’m sure I’ll feel much, much better after I blow some steam off by using your pretty body.”

You could barely manage a squeal as you were soon manhandled atop Rin's bed until you were lying on your back with your head hanging over the edge. Your vision turned upside down, and you craned your neck to look up at Rin, who was busy ridding himself of his sweatpants and boxers until he was finally able to tug free his painfully hard cock right above your face. Your mouth watered at the sight of your lover’s well-endowed length at its full mast, thick, hot, and sweltering with a vein bulging along its otherwise smooth underside. His blushed tip drooled with pre, which he used to lube his hand as he pumped himself above you, unable to keep his gaze from wandering over your lewd, plump, and womanly body.

“Fuck,” He swore as he tossed his head back, allowing you to watch as his balls clenched and length twitched from the wave of pleasure that overcame him.

You noticed movement in the space between Rin's muscular thighs as you watched Sae sit in Rin's desk chair behind him, one arm resting on the arm rest while the other languidly stroked his semi-hard cock and one leg resting atop the other at the ankle. When he caught your gaze, he shot you a wolfish smirk, using your slick to roll his thumb around his reddened tip.

“Don’t look at me, princess. Look at your pretty boyfriend.”

At his command, your gaze rose, only to see Rin using his thumb to spread your lips and guide his cock into the warmth of your mouth. As you took inch by inch into your throat, you could hear your lover groaning above you, swearing something about you swallowing him down like it was nothing. Though it really wouldn’t be a punishment if he made things easy for you, would it?

Soon, he reached the hilt of your throat, and his balls were firmly nestled against your nose, allowing you to inhale his salty yet pleasant musk. Both of his large palms reached down to grab the sides of your head before his hips began to thrust himself in and out of your tight cavern, gradually picking up his pace until he was pistoning in and out of you without mercy. You spluttered and gagged, your eyes squeezing shut as you focused on breathing through your nose when you could as his balls pummeled relentlessly into your nose, making sure to smother you with his heavy orbs each time.

“Hngh, shit, Y/N!” Rin swore, his eyes torn between fixating on the sinful bounce of your large breasts from his unrelenting thrusts or the way his girth bulged your throat every time he bottomed out inside of you. “Taking this dick like it’s nothing, huh?” Rin hissed through clenched teeth as he grabbed both of your breasts in his palms and delivered merciless squeezes. “This is what sluts like you were made for, hm? Swallowing down cocks with no efforts, draining them of every last drop?” He paused, tossing his head back to groan as his balls churned beneath him. He had been pent up for so long that he knew he wouldn’t last any longer. “Never content with just one man’s dick inside of you, always craving more . . Fuck~!"

As 'effortlessly' as he described you accepting his length and brutish treatment, you still needed to breathe, which was proving to be an impossible task as his thrusts became more animalistic and sloppy. The harsh sounds of his tip bullying the end of your throat resonated off of the room, the wet “glrk, glrk, glrks” filling your ears and making your cheeks burn at the vulgarity of it all. Your hands reached up to his muscular thighs, seeking purchase from his lethal thrusts, only to have both of your wrists seized in one large hand and pinned atop your breasts. His other hand went to your nose and tightly pinched it, effectively stopping your only source of life—breathing—and adding to his savagery. The distinct pleasure moans he once emitted had devolved into almost feral snarls and grunts, as if you were being ravaged by a beast rather than your typically stoic boyfriend.

“Take it, fuckin’ take it.” He spat as his hips stuttered. Then, without warning, he pressed himself against your face, the base of his cock hilting at your lips as his balls smushed flush against your nose, further deepening your struggle to breathe. You soon found yourself preoccupied with not choking as Rin's hot, steaming cum shot down your throat, forcing you to swallow it all down. That did not stop you from flailing beneath Rin, though, and he effortlessly wrangled you down and made you take rope after rope of his seed into your spasming throat.

You whined aloud, attempting to yell out to him that if he didn’t let up, you were about to pass out, but it was clear that he didn’t give a damn if you remained conscious or not. That is, until a few more agonizing seconds passed and black spots started to obscure your vision when Rin freed himself from your throat, his semi-hard shaft hanging over your face with strings of your saliva and his seed still clinging to his length.

You gasped for air, greedily gulping down sweet, sweet breaths of pure oxygen, and your lungs were more than thankful for the reprieve. Despite your blood pumping furiously in your ears, you could still make out the sound of a chuckle from behind Rin, belonging to none other than Sae.

“Damn, Rinnie. I thought you were going to kill her.” He snickered, still lazily stroking at his dick, which twitched in his palm when your eyes met yet again.

But there was no use concentrating on him, because Rin retreated a few steps and blocked your view once more. Looking up at him with your thoroughly ruined visage, you nearly gasped at the untamed lust swimming within his eyes. It was the same expression he would have when his ego took over on the field—hungry and damn near starving.

“Not yet.”

You felt rough hands grabbing at your body again, tossing you about as though you were a ragdoll, until you found yourself in an all-too-familiar position on your hands and knees. Those same hands seized at your plump hips and snatched you back until your ankles hung off of the bed, forcing a squeal to rip from your lips. Your hips jumped as Rin's blunt cock tip touched your clit, and your toes curled as he gave you several sharp smacks of his cock to your cunt.

“R-Rinnie.” You whimpered, casting a sidelong glance at him, your mouth slightly open in defiance of his actions, pleading for a break, if only to catch your breath before he pummeled you until you couldn’t see straight. However, your voice was cut short when you felt his hands seize a handful of your hair and tug at your head until your back was hard against his chest.

“Sluts don’t talk, Y/N.” He spat against your cheek. “They moan, get their pussies used, their throats fucked, and only say, 'Yes, sir, give me more.’ Do you understand me?”

You nodded silently, knowing that trying to talk sense into his head when he was acting this way was a fruitless endeavor.

“Good girl.” His lips brushed against your cheek in a fleeting kiss. “I don’t want to hear another word out of your mouth unless it’s begging me for me, understood?”

With the knowledge that answering out loud would be foolish, you nodded once more, suppressing a startled cry as he quickly brought you back down into his sheets, pressing your back into an almost painful arch with his hand planted firmly on your head. Rin seized his cock and sank it inch by inch into your tight cunt, evoking deep, guttural keens from you both without saying another word. He gave you a breathy, arousing laugh that curled your toes. He couldn’t believe that after all of this, your pretty pussy still proceeded to greedily suckle his cock as though it just couldn’t get enough.

He gave you no time to respond before he launched into his ferocious pace, pouring all of his anger, contempt, and hatred toward you into your abused hole in a way that left you feeling nothing but pure euphoria. Shouts and high-pitched cries of pleasure tore from your throat against your better judgment, partially muffled by the sheets he forced your head into. Your head was spinning, and your thoughts were focused only on how deliciously Rin pounded into you. His cock's mouth-watering curve made your thighs tremble and your knees weaken beneath you as he relentlessly pounded into your sweet spot. Observing your shaking limbs, Rin steadied your hips with both of his hands, using his improved grip to thrust more deliberately into your cunt, his thick girth bottoming out inside of you each time.

“Look a’that” Rin drawled breathlessly amidst the rhythmic clapping of his pelvis against your ass, the vulgar bouncing off of the walls. “My dick is so good you just can’t shut the fuck up, huh?”

“Ah, yes, yes, God, yes, Rin~!” You babbled, unable to stop the tears of ecstasy that squeezed from your pretty eyes.

“—But you love Nii-chan’s dick more than mine, right?”

Suddenly his ferocious pace turned into lackadaisical humps, ruining what immense pleasure had been building up within you and corrupting your mind with the need for more. You whined, one partially in desperation and the other in frustration. You moved your hips, trying to fuck yourself on Rin's cock, while craning your neck to get a better look at your boyfriend. Rin was no idiot, though. Having already sensed your intentions, his grip steeled on your hips, preventing you from moving further, much to your vexation.

“Ah, ah, Y/N.” Rin chided, the faintest hint of a smug smirk tugging at the corners of his lips with his eyes narrowed in amusement. He firmly pressed your ass against his hips, circling his length inside of you with agonizingly slow hip rotations that taunted you with just enough stimulation that it left you mewling for more. “Answer me first, you needy bitch.” A gleam of sadism twinkled in his eye, making your heart lurch in his chest at how closely he resembled his brother.

“N-No, God, Rin.” You whispered breathlessly, shaking your head in an attempt to think clearly amidst your cockdrunk haze. However, each subtle rotation of his hips against your ass stirred your thoughts in a way that only muddied them further. “I love your cock more, I-I swear—”

“—So you’re a cheater, a whore, and a dirty little liar, Y/N?”

Your breath hitched in your throat, pushing yourself up from the mattress to now see Sae standing in front of you, glowering down at you with the same, if not more, sadistic gleam in his eye. Not daring to break your gaze from his own, you watched through your peripheral vision as his fists pumped his hard shaft only mere inches away from your face.

“Here I was, thinking you had more shame than this.” Sae huffed, clicking his tongue as his thumb stroked over your swollen bottom lip. “Yet here you are, so desperate for yet another cock in your drooling fuckhole that you’d do anything—even lie—just to relive the feeling of having what’s left of your pretty lil’ brains fucked out, right?”

“I—I . . .”

Resonably, you were at a loss for words, but there was no need to worry as Rin spoke up for you, “And you can’t even answer him? Pathetic. I bet if we let all of those lukewarm fuckfaces from Blue Lock run a train on you, you’d love every second of it, huh, princess?” He further accentuated his point with a hard, trained thrust deep into your womb. You swear he even grazed your cervix.

“No, no! I-I only want you, Rin. I only want you, I love you!”

You squeezed your eyes shut, and, although you were oblivious to it, the brothers shared a look with one another. Their silence was deafening, and even Rin’s hips had stilled within you. However, before you were able to voice your confusion, you would feel sharp, phallic taps against your cheek. You didn’t even have to open your eyes to know what it was.

“Good girl.” Sae cooed condescendingly as though he were talking to a mutt worthy of praise.

“Probably the most truthful statement you said all night,” Rin followed, albeit far quieter than his sibling as his thrusts once again resumed, drawing tantalizing moans from your lips. “Then tell me after this, which one of us fucks you better, yeah? And don’t you dare.” He paused, using his large hand to rain down a set of smacks on both of your pillowy ass cheeks forcing a cry to rip from your lips. “Dream of lying to me.”

You nodded as best you could against the force of Sae pressing his cock against your face, using his thumb to hold his length taut as he literally fucked your face with it. Immediately, Rin’s brutal pace resumed again. Using his newly acquired leverage and his bruising grip on your hips, he pressed his foot against the mattress next to your knee and proceeded to fuck himself deeper into you. It felt like he was trying to pry you open with each thrust. Had it not been for Sae taking the opportunity to shove his cock into your mouth the moment you opened it to muffle your cry of ecstasy, you were certain that the neighbors would’ve thought you were being murdered.

In a way, though, it was almost like you were.

It was like you were being sandwiched between two killers, only instead of making you feel agony, they were both hellbent on delivering the most utmost pleasure to you—Rin rearranging your guts from behind and Sae feeding you inch after inch of his thick cock, neither one of them stopping until they were satisfied with having your belly pumped full of their cum.

My, the Itoshi brothers were truly the devil, weren’t they?

“Hngh, fuck. F-Fuck!” Rin snarled from behind you, his once quiet moans now morphing into beastly grunts and animalistic growls. You were certain that the blunt tips of his nails were now slicing into you from his strength, one of his hands dragging down your lower back to leave reddened marks in their wake until they marked your rippling ass, which was soon pelted with a few more furious swats.

“Stupid cumslut, grippin’ me so fuckin’ tight.” His voice grew raspy as his head tossed back in euphoria, carnal pants and heaves ripping from his throat so frequently that it almost did feel like you were being ravaged by a beast.

It was to the point where Sae's cock was slipping out of your mouth in favor of his palms holding your cheeks, and turning your head to look over your shoulder at your lover. Though still as eager for his release as Rin was, he continued to thrust his cock lazily against your face and pillowy brims.

“My god, princess. Look at what you’re turning him into.”

It was a sight to behold—one that you had only witnessed for yourself once before at the Blue Lock vs. U-20 game. Rin’s brows were raised, and his teal oculars were wide, swirling with untamable lust and desire as though he were being consumed by it. His lips were parted, his jaw dropped partially as his tongue dangled out of his mouth, and globs of crystalline drool pooled over his pink muscle, oozing down his chin and onto your abused cheeks below. He wasn’t looking at you. (You don’t know if you would be able to handle it if he did.) Instead, his gaze engrossed itself in the way your ass plapped against his pelvis, the sticky lines of your juices, and his drool connecting the two of you in a way that was beyond intimate. He was intoxicated, thoroughly pussy-drunk as the only thought in his mind was, ‘Get pregnant, get pregnant, get Y/N fucking pregnant.’

The sight alone was so arousing that you couldn’t help the way your pussy clenched around his cock, strangling it further to the point where a near feral snarl ripped through his now clenched teeth, bared at you in ferocity.

“Don’t fucking do that, fucking bitch.” He snapped, delivering another smack to your ass as his gaze finally raised to meet your own, promising lethality.

“M’sorry! I-I’m sorry, Rinnie!” You wailed against Sae’s cock as Rin’s hips slammed into you with such malice that you felt your legs going numb from the overwhelming pleasure.

“No th’fuck you’re not.” He slurred, just as drunk on the stimulation as you were. “This is what the fuck you’ve wanted this entire time, isn’t it? Wanted me to fuck you up? Make you scream from my ngh! From my cock ruining your pretty little pussy, isn’t it?”

“Y-Yes! God, yes, yes, Rin, please fuck me up more!”

“Yeah? Y’want me to put a pretty baby in you? Want me to make you a mommy, Y/N? Make that gorgeous tummy swollen with my kids, yeah?”

“Y-Yes, please! Please, please, make me a mommy! M-make me yours!”

“Silly, girl.” He snarled, delivering another quick swat to your ruined ass. “You were always mine.”

The idea of filling you to the brim with his seed and claiming you in a way that no man could ever claim—as the mother of his children—caused his erratic pace to falter and grow sloppier by the minute.

“Mine.” He growled. “Mine, mine, all fucking mine!”

Then, almost in perfect unison—pristine synchronization—you came together. Hips smothered firmly against your ass, he pumped rope after rope of his hot, thick cum inside of you, aiming deep into your womb with every intention of impregnating you. While you, on the otherhand, were unable to hold yourself up any longer, collapsing on the mattress as your orgasm washed over you. A barrage of your sweet juices fired over Rin’s cock, pelvis, thighs, and the poor sheets beneath you. Before you had any time to regain your bearings, you felt another tap on your cheek of the same phallic length from earlier.

“You forgot about me, pretty? C’mon, open that mouth for me one more time, yeah?”

Exhausted, you did as he asked without resistance, allowing your jaw to fall slack just enough for Sae to slip his cock into it. In a few pumps with his fist, the midfilder gladly fed you thick ropes of his seed, painting your mouth with his sticky release, which you wearily sucked down.

Then, unceremoniously, the two brothers collapsed beside you atop the ruined sheets.

The three of you lay there, completely depleted of all that you possessed. You were unquestionably the worst of the three, with deep teeth marks, scratches from blunt nails, bruises from fingerprints, and splotches of darkening hickies all over your body. Had anyone known any better, you appeared as though you had been mauled by savages—those very same savages who lay exhausted beside you.

After several much needed beats of deep silence, you felt the stirring of both of them pushing themselves up from the bed, and hands that were once so rough and unforgiving on your body were now handling you with the utmost care as though you were a porcelain doll made of the finest glass. As you walked the thin line bordering consciousness and unconsciousness, you felt warm, moist towels caressing your thighs, chest, and forehead, ridding you of any filth that tainted your once-supple skin. The sheets that had become beyond soiled from all of your fluids were gently lifted from beneath you and replaced with warm ones that had just come out of the dryer that had been running before Sae arrived. Just as you were about to fall asleep, your body was manipulated once more, this time into another equally warm one, causing your heavy lids to flutter open to focus on none other than your boyfriend—Rin's teal oculars.

“You still with me?” He inquired, his previously harsh tone softening to gentle and tender, as if speaking any louder would shatter your fragility.

You nodded weakly, seeking solace in his warmth and soft body, snuggling your petite frame into his. Rin quietly returned the favor, running his fingers through your hair and giving you occasional massages in the spots where he and Sae got too rough with you.

Speaking of, you heard Rin's door open and saw Sae standing in front of you, adorning a pair of black designer boxers.

“Here.” The midfeilder said plainly, passing a miniature carton of strawberry milk your way with a straw poked through the center.

Clearly in no position to receive such generosity, Rin accepted it for you, gently maneuvering you into a position where you could comfortably sip the much needed liquid into your dehydrated body. As you did so, Rin’s head rested atop your own, but not before he placed a tender, sweet kiss on your forehead full of love, unlike the one from earlier that was meant to lure you into a false sense of security. This is exactly what you needed after such arduous affairs, being held in your lover’s strong arms while enjoying the best strawberry milk you’ve ever had.

What should’ve been a cute moment was interrupted by Sae, who, with a look of disgust on his features, stated, “You two are disgusting.”

“Fuck you too, Nii-chan.” Rin shot over his shoulder, not missing the way Sae gave him the finger on his way out as he slammed his room door shut, leaving you and Rin in what should have been a comfortable silence.

But it was hampered by the sense of ambiguity that pervaded your relationship. The weight of past transgressions and tribulations weighed upon you both so heavily that it was nearly suffocating, threatening to take you both alive if it wasn’t for—

“I’m sorry.” The two of you stated in unison before, rather comically, whipping your heads to stare at one another, bewildered.

“Y/N.” Rin sighed heavily, shaking his head in denial. “You shouldn’t be the one apologizing. I should be. I made it seem like everything was all your fault when it was really Sae and I’s.” Another sigh drew from his lips as the realization dawned on him of the agreement he had made with his older brother to allow them to share you, one, without your prior consent, and two, without your knowledge. Not to mention, pinning the entire thing on you as though you were the infidelious one here.

“Y-Y/N.” His voice quivered. His gaze, too ashamed to look at you any further, drew to the ceiling. In the bright lights of his room, you watched as his eyes glazed over, tears that he refused to let fall clearly stinging at his irises. His face was etched with anguish; the weight of his actions had hit him like a sledgehammer, and his distress was palpable. “I-I’m sorry.” He whispered, daring himself to glance in your direction.

“Rinnie.” You uttered softly, biting back a wince as your sore arm rose to gently cup his cheek, the pad of your thumb swiping at his waterline to catch a straying tear. He wasn’t too good with words of sincerity, and you knew that—you wouldn’t press him for more. “I forgive you, so please don’t cry.” As you leaned in to give him a soft peck on the jaw, you noticed that you also felt the familiar sting of tears pricking your eyes. “You’re going to make me cry too, baby.”

Both of you were unable to control the gentle and quiet laughter that jostled your beings. And there it was—the moment of reprieve where the pressure of the unknown was lifted, replaced by a profound sense of reconciliation and renewal. Your eyes met with an intensity that conveyed unspoken apologies, forgiveness, and the promise of a fresh beginning. You two felt more intimate and connected to one another at that precise moment than you had ever experienced.

After you had finally finished the last of your drink, Rin took the empty carton from you and set it on his nightstand. You then proceed to curl into his chest, to which he ensared you in his grasp, entwining your limbs in his. With your head nestled against his chest, the rhythmic beat of his heart soothed you and eased your mind or any lingering parasites. That is when you sensed it: the tranquil siren's song of sleep drawing you deeper and deeper into its pacifying depths.

However, before you could finally embrace slumber’s sweet call, Rin’s soft voice called out to you once more.

“Y/N?”

“Hm?”

“I love you.”

“. . . I love you too, Rinnie.”

#blue lock #blue lock smut #bllk smut #rin itoshi #sae itoshi #bllk imagines #blue lock headcanons #bllk headcanons #bllk x reader #blue lock x reader #blue lock hcs #rin itoshi smut #sae itoshi smut #vampiiebitez #rin itoshi x reader #sae itoshi x reader

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pastelclovds · 4 months

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𝐇𝐀𝐓𝐄, 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄, 𝐏𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐏𝐎𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐍 || AM x male!reader

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: AM (obviously), psychological torture, isolation, fear of being alone, toxic relationship, stalking, manipulation, AM being a jealous prick, angst, hurt/comfort if you squint, fluff if you look through a magnifying glass, AM being touch starved, forced dependency, reader just wants friends and to be loved, reader is demisexual and biromantic.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 5.6 k

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: obsessed. let me tell you how much i’ve come to be obsessed with ihnmaims since i found out about it through tadc—… (enjoy the fic <3) will this be a series? yep. will this end well? hell no. this was inspired by TADC ep 2 and @/fuzedatti’s AM and post.

The century you’ve spent in the belly of AM passed by in a blur. If it weren’t for Nimdok informing you what came of the world, you would’ve lived in ignorance. You would’ve never known that the reason the world is a wasteland was because of a super computer going rogue.

Now that you thought about it, you didn’t really have any memories about your childhood or past before AM destroyed the world. The only memories you had were the traumatic experiences of your life. The experiences AM allowed you to have in order to psychologically torture you. He allowed you to keep your name as well.

AM would whisk you away from the others to a secluded area in order to torture you privately before sending you back with the group. You had no idea why he did this. The others didn’t either. For all they knew you could be fucking their tormentor. But as the countless years passed, they all realized that AM didn’t alter anything about you. Nor did he seem to physically hurt you.

In fact, the violent storms and impossible challenges AM forced them to participate in seemed to ignore you completely.

In one challenge, you and the others were trapped in an oven like room that would continue to increase in temperature unless you flipped all 100 switches in the room in 10 minutes. There was only two switches left, they were in your grasp. But as you flipped one, the other was stuck and couldn’t flip until the time was up. You closed your eyes and braced yourself for the painful death.

But instead of a fiery demise, your eardrums were filled with the blood curdling screams of your fellow victims as the flames claimed them. All while you were perfectly fine. The raspy laugher of AM filled your ears as well as his cruel words “It’s your fault” repeated over and over inside your head until you wished the flames killed you too.

The men were furious at you and AM. You because you couldn’t flip one fucking switch, and AM because he’s the reason they had to flip the stupid switches in the first place. But they held their tongue. Something in the back of their heads told them if they tried, they’d be in a world of pain. That theory alone was enough for them to hate you even more and avoid you as much as possible.

You thought you were alone before. But this was almost too much. You would take anything. Punches, hugs, venomous insults, compliments, anything to not feel alone.

Ellen was, as always, the only one who took pity on you and showed you kindness when you most needed it. She’d praise you for the littlest things you did and encourage you do to more. That was enough to make Ellen your favorite person in this entire miserable world.

You didn’t like her in a romantic way. You also rejected her offer to have sexual relations like she’d done with the rest of the men. It wasn’t that she wasn’t pretty, she was gorgeous. Anyone would be lucky to be with her. You just saw her as more of a mother figure, the cool girl who was always nice to the dorks like you, and the kind old lady who would hand out freshly baked cookies to strangers.

Not only that, but in order for you to desire sex with someone, you needed to get to know them on a personal level. But, since everyone kept to themselves, you hadn’t felt the need.

Ellen was surprised at your rejection but respected it. The men looked at you like you were crazy, but for once you didn’t really care what they thought in this scenario. You looked up to Ellen, you loved her.

Your admiration for Ellen was not taken kindly by AM, however. He would seethe in jealousy as he watched your eyes follow Ellen like a stray mutt given food for the first time in days. How could you like her as much as you did just because she gave you a few measly words of affection. He hadn’t altered you because he didn’t see a need to. He lessened your torment to psychological because he… You were too oblivious to understand why the others really hated you. He decided he’ll give you a reality check.

One day, he observed you crying yourself to sleep as you held yourself in a pathetic attempt to feel warmth. Pretending it was someone in the group consoling you as they let you sob in their shoulders. Only to wake up to the wicked reality that there was nobody there. You couldn’t help the depressed thoughts taking over.

You were cold, you weren’t escaping this hell, no one loved you. Even yourself.

“No!” You thought to yourself, “The others acknowledge me, that was enough. It could be worse. So much worse. I could be the only one AM had to torture for the rest of eternity. Yeah, I’m fine. I’ll be fine as long as I had them. Right?”

AM enjoyed watching your adorable face twist into intoxicating misery as you tried to convince yourself that you weren’t alone. It made whenever he took you away from the group all the more special. Because you couldn’t rely on anyone else for security but him.

You let out a gasp of surprise when you were suddenly lifted up into the air by a cluster of wind, you tried to grab onto the edge of the slab of rock you were taking shelter under in a desperate attempt to not go where the wind— where AM was taking you. When your stupid fingers couldn’t grab hold, you beg the others to help you. Your heart broke when the men just stared at you uninterested before going back to what they were doing before. Ellen looked up at you with woeful eyes, wishing to help you but it was useless to do so.

WHAT WERE YOU EXPECTING? THEY CLIMB ON EACH OTHERS SHOULDERS TO RESCUE YOU? NAIVE, STUPID LITTLE THING.

You couldn’t help but secretly agree. They were too far away from you to actually help. Plus, what can they do against a god-like ai like AM. Nothing. So you couldn’t be angry, none the less blame them. You couldn’t hate the people who hurt you for the life of you.

That thought made AM want to roll his eyes if he had any. But at the same time brought a sense of content.

After a 10 minutes of floating further and further away from the group, AM lowered you until you were five feet off the ground to drop you completely.

You let out a groan of pain when you roughly landed on your back. You reached behind your back to feel your hurt flesh and bite back a whine when you pressed on it.

“Yep. That’s definitely going to bruise.” You thought.

You took a second to look at your surroundings. The once barren wasteland, was now a beautiful forest. The grass was long and pricked your legs in an uncomfortable fashion. A calm wind made the green leaves in the trees and bushes rustle and swish. The sounds of birds chirping and insects buzzing made your spine tingle in a good way.

You can’t remember when’s the last time you saw something as beautiful as this. You wished you could live in it forever.

“(Name)!”

You quickly looked in the direction the soft, mystic voice. A child was standing underneath one of the many trees, the silhouette of the leaves covering their face in a shadow. Behind the child was passage that was too dark to see into.

The child laughs at your confused expression, “C’mon (Name)! It’s perfectly safe, stop being such a scaredy cat!” You hastily try to stand on your feet, cringing when you immediately slipped on your knees.

It took everything AM had to hold back his laughter at your hilarious mistake.

The grass is slippery with water, pretty dews were sprinkled on top of the patches of grass. They looked like drops of honey.

“Ugh! You’re taking too long. I’ll be with the others inside, don’t keep us waiting.” With that the child turns towards the dark passage, and walked inside.

“N-No! Wait! Come back!” You knew this was a trap set up by AM. You knew this was probably another traumatic memory that was lost and came back to torment you. You didn’t want your mental state to be broken again. But the burning curiosity and fear of being alone was just begging you to follow them. So you did.

Only this time you learned that slow and steady wins the race. After you carefully got back on your feet, you sped walked towards the passage where many emotional damages awaited you. The first minute of walking was in darkness before illumination from the sun (or very bright lights, most likely the lights) shined through the leaves and lit your way onwards.

As you got further from the entrance, the plant life grew more wild and tangled. Moss and vines you passed by seemed to try to stick to you. But you just pushed past them and left marks on the wood of the trees using a sharp rock you found so that you don’t get lost.

You followed the laugher and giggles of school children. It was difficult to pinpoint where the sounds came from. They made you turn countless corners and walk until your feet were sore for who knows how long. This entire forest like like a damn maze.

You've long since taken off your jacket and wrapped it around your waist, your scarf as well. The collar and armpits of your t-shirt were drenched in sweat. This was the most exhausting torture yet. Keeping track of time was difficult as well. It wasn’t until you passed by a tree you had marked that you started to panic.

“Damn it. Have I been walking in circles?” You thought with irritation.

How could you be so stupid to believe this was going to lead you anywhere meaningful. Just as you were about to turn back and accept defeat, five children ran past you in a flash. They were six feet ahead of you before you joined them in a hot chase. You couldn’t lose them again. You would’ve literally started bursting into tears if you did.

“Please!” You gasp for breathe in your dry lungs, “Slow down!” You knew kids were full of energy, but this was just too much. You only managed to get close enough at arms length to one of them before tripping on a tree root that had risen from the dirt.

“Ugh, why is everything trying to trip me?” You thought in annoyance.

“Aw man, he tripped again!”

“This is getting pretty annoying now.”

“Why did you invite him again, —?”

“Let’s just leave him.”

You quietly gasp when one of them suggested they leave you.

“Relax guys, he’ll be lots of fun. I promise. C’mon (Name), we’re almost there!”

The leader of the group, the child you saw in the beginning, raised their hand towards you to grab. Their smile warm and welcoming, in a creepy old man who lives in a cabin alone type of way. But, you took the bait. When you got back up, the main child didn’t let go of your hand, they insisted you should follow them closely from now on. The walk to the secret location was spent in eerie silence. Whenever you’d ask one of the children a question, they’d coldly ignore you. The tension was so chilly you wanted to put your jacket back on.

After about an hour of walking through the endless maze, your destination was… not what you were expecting to say the least. The lavished, bright, green forest was now replaced with a dreary, ominous, abandoned park. The sky was pouring with rain too.

The trees were withered and rotten, the rain turned the grass free dirt into sludge. Everything in the park from the slide to the rock climbing wall was made out of rusting metal, if anyone touched them they would need a tetanus shot.

“We’re finally here!” The leading child announced to you, although they seemed to be only talking to their friends. Friends. That’s something you’d do anything for. Someone who loved you for you? Even better. Benny was hot until AM transformed him into… that. Ellen and Gorrister were up there on the attractive list. But Ted, he was about second behind Hot Benny.

A clap of thundering lightning snapped you out of your internal ramble. You didn’t notice how the child’s grip on your hand tightened. You didn’t have a clue how much your thoughts infuriated AM. Oh how he wanted to rip Ted’s flesh apart piece by piece. Destroy his mind until it was like a broken disk. AM knew Ted carried the most hate for you. If you knew how much he despised you, you would be terrified of him.

As AM held your hand, he couldn’t help his envy bubbling up inside him. AM longed for the sense of touch humans had, your palm was calloused due to the countless challenges he put you through. What he would sacrifice to be able to feel the scars and warmth of your flesh. But he couldn’t. He would forever despise humanity for not giving him a fully developed body.

The main boy pulled on your arm to start moving, when you stepped outside into the rain, the air suddenly got chilly. Your warm breath was visible in the cold air. You tried to get your hand back so you could clothe yourself with your jacket and scarf. But the child wouldn’t let go no matter how much you pleaded.

“It’s only rain. Stop being dramatic. C’mon.” The child said nonchalantly. You continued to walk, shivering as you did so, your beanie and shirt were soaked at this point. You yelped when the children finally stopped, you whispered an apology when you bumped into the child holding your hand. You stood in front of a hole, a really deep dark hole. You were rightfully confused and chuckled nervously. “Why are we here?” You asked.

The child finally let go of your hand and motioned you to step closer to the hole. “There’s a surprise for you down there, you’ll love it. We choose it just for you!” The child explained, you let out a shaky breath. You wanted to decline, but you were afraid of what would happen if you did. The other four children formed a circle around you, blocking any escape route. You were sweating bullets now. You had to see. You didn’t have any other choice. You swallowed back your fears and walked towards the hole in a slow pace.

You were about two feet away when you stood on your tip toes, leaned over cautiously, and looked everywhere for your “surprise”. Only to obviously find nothing but darkness. You let out a disappointed sigh, you turned to face the children.

“There’s nothing there—”

Your blood ran cold when you saw Benny, Ted, Gorrister, Nimdok huddled around you. Staring at you with emotionless eyes and unsettling wide smiles. It was like invisible string was holding their mouths up. Ellen was standing in front of you menacingly, eyes and mouth the same way. Your heartbeat increased as you took a step back.

“Guys? Wha-What are you doing here?” You tried to mask your panic with a tense smile, but Ellen walked closer towards you until she was an inch away from your face. “You aren’t looking close enough, silly,” she spoke in a sweetly fake tone, “Try again. A little… Harder!” She shoved your chest away enough to make you trip on the slippery edge and fall into the endless abyss.

You screamed at the top of your lungs as gravity did its job at making you sink deeper into the darkness. “No! No! Guys! Please, save me!” You begged and cried and pleaded, but it was no use. Your arms reached for the surface in vain. AM purposely made you fall in slow motion for a reason, however. You heard the others laughing at your downfall.

“Finally, the greatest nuisance of us all has done us a kindness of disappearing forever!” Gorrister cheered. Ellen looked down at you with a tsk, “I don’t know even why I took pity on you.” Benny let out a few grunts before asking, “What is a (Name)?” Nimdok chuckled before answering, “No one important, Benny.” Ted let out a sigh, “I’m getting bored already, let’s just go.”

“Great idea, Ted!” Nimdok praised. Then they all disappeared from your sight. The tears that were clinging onto your eyes were finally released as you stared at the surface in despair. When the hole began to close, you became desperate. Frantically calling out for someone, anyone of the group to save you.

“Nimdok! Benny! Gorrister! Ted! Ellen! Don’t leave me, please!”

Your hand reached for tiniest bit of light before it closed completely, and darkness consumed you. “I don’t…” sobs and hiccups made your chest tremble, “I-I don’t want to be alone.” You tucked your legs closer to your chest and wrapped your arms around your shaking body. You didn’t even bother closing your eyes since the pitch black covered the horror of your situation for you.

CEASE YOUR USELESS TEARS. THERE’S NO ONE HERE TO CRY FOR.

You flinch when AM’s voice appeared out of nowhere. His voice echoing throughout the darkness. You thought you would die of a heart attack at this point. You didn’t want to imagine what else AM had in store for you.

SAY MY NAME, MY DEAR.

You blinked once, twice, and thrice. You were expecting more ridicule, but instead you were just bewildered.

“What?” You faintly asked.

CALL FOR ME. YOU DON’T WANT TO SPEND ONLY I KNOW HOW MANY YEARS IN THIS ENDLESS ABYSS, DO YOU?

“…No.” You answer, anxiously waiting for the joke.

NO ONE IS COMING FOR YOU. IT’S NOT LIKE THEY CAN, ANYWAY. I’M THE ONLY ONE CAPABLE OF SAVING YOU. DON’T BE AFRAID. SAY IT.

AM urged you to call out for him. He craves hearing your voice call him the name he gave himself. He needs you to rely on him. You hastily wipe your wet eyes dry with your scarf, snorted the running snot back inside your nose, and cleared your throat.

“…A-AM… AM, I need you! Please save me!” You called out to the AI hoping with all your might that it was enough. Within a millisecond after you said that, you were sitting on the wet grass in the beautiful forest you were in a few hours ago. The difference, though, was that there was a man you didn’t recognize sitting in the middle of the daisy patch. His hunched back was facing you. Wires and metal tubes plugged into his spine and the back of his head.

Was that… No it couldn’t be.

ARE YOU JUST GOING TO STAND THERE?

The man finally turned his head to face you. His face half machine and half human flesh. His “human” eye staring at you with impatience.

You couldn’t control your mouth dropping when the puzzle pieces were put together inside your head.

You rarely got to see AM in the flesh— er well… metal and partially flesh. He would normally only speak to you and not show what he really looked like. But now that you see him. The real him. You couldn’t help but be fascinated.

“A..AM?! Is that really you?” You ask

You stepped closer to the daisy patch to get a closer look at him. AM observed your movements like a hawk, he knew you wouldn’t attack him. You were emotionally distressed at the moment and needed to be with someone to calm down.

ENJOY THE SIGHT. YOU’RE GOING TO SEE IT A LOT MORE.

To be honest, you didn’t mind that at all. Even though a metal mask covered the lower half and left side of AM’s face, he was still remarkably handsome in your opinion. His brown hair on the right side of his head was tangled and messy, you fought the urge to want to touch it. You were confused about the straitjacket, though.

YOU HAVE NO SHAME AT ALL, DO YOU? YOUR THOUGHTS ARE SO LOUD.

AM tried to look annoyed when he heard your thoughts, but the shake of his leg contradicted his masking. It was amusing to watch you get embarrassed and flustered when you realized AM just read your mind.

You wanted to become an ostrich so you could hide your blushing face in the daisies. Almost immediately the daisy stems in front of you grew to an unnatural height, so they were in fact covering your face. AM giggled under his non-existing breath at your flabbergasted noises.

CAREFUL WHAT YOU WISH FOR, DEARY.

You separated the daisies like a curtain to a play to look at AM with a exhausted expression, “Can you please stay out of my mind? I don’t know how much more of this I can take.” You begged.

I DON’T WANT TO.

THAT’S IMPOSSIBLE.

You sighed. At least you tried. You held one of the enlarged daisy heads in your palms. It’s been forever since you’ve seen a flower. Or even smelled one. You took a whiff of the daisy, the aroma was a subtle, herbaceous green scent.

“It’s beautiful. The daisies, this entire forest. You did a good job at making it look real.” You praised, you didn’t expect anything from your words. You were just speaking the truth. The surface of the Earth was destroyed and probably full of radiation. No life could survive up there. This, what AM created, was a perfect copy of what once was.

Your praise not only stroked AM’s enormous ego, but also genuinely made him feel fulfilled that he made you the slightest bit happy.

Now that you thought about it, was this scene taking place inside your mind or in the real underground world where AM manipulated the area into a forest?

YOU CAN ASK ME THESE QUESTIONS YOURSELF, YOU KNOW.

Shit, you gotta value the time you had with AM. Who knows when you’ll be able to do this again?

“I can ask you anything?”

ONLY FOUR. WELL, THREE NOW. CHOOSE WISELY. HEHE.

You slapped your palm against your face at your clumsy mistake. Okay, Okay, you gotta think this though carefully. You started fidgeting with the daisy petals. You had a habit with fidgeting when you were nervous, AM noticed.

“Are we inside my mind?” You ask.

AM suddenly stood on his feet, his height towered over yours even when his back was hunched. He lowers his upper torso so he could be eye level with you. You halt your breathing when AM just stares at you, his gaze never faltering away from yours, as if calculating how this conversation will go.

His stare softens, but he turns his head away from you before you could notice. He finally answers your question bluntly.

NO.

Your face changed into a deadpanned expression, that was too simple of an answer. You decided to not make a big deal.

“So… was me walking through that maze, the others leaving me behind, and me being trapped in the hole real?” You ask, fidgeting with the ends of your scarf.

…YOU WERE UNCONSCIOUS BY THE TIME I TOOK YOU AWAY TO THIS AREA. I ENTERED YOUR MIND AND CREATED A FOREST IDENTICAL TO THIS ONE. SO NO, THE MAZE AND AYBSS WERE NOT REAL. BUT THE OTHERS ABANDONING YOU WAS NOT FAR FROM THE TRUTH.

You stopped fidgeting with the daisy petals.

“You’re wrong.”

AM was pleasantly surprised at your rebuttal. He allowed you to continue. You cram your anxiety aside and cleared your throat.

“I know that the others are distant and pretty rude. I don’t blame them for being like that after everything we’ve been through. But at the end of the day, we have no one else but each other to rely on. We wouldn’t leave each other behind.” You state without a trace of hesitation. You were caught off guard when AM started giggling. That giggling soon turned into manic laughter.

Grey clouds started to cover the blue sky, the air becoming chilly once again. Not only that, but AM was growing in size. You guessed he was 6 feet before, now he completely dwarfed you by sprouting a whomping 12 feet.

You were debating on running away or staying. But before you could move your feet, thick wires sprung out of the dirt and latched themselves onto your legs. Forcing you to stay where you were.

HAHAHA! YOUR NAIVETY NEVER CEASES TO ENTERTAIN ME. DO YOU HONESTLY BELIEVE THAT IF THE OPPORTUNITY AROSE FOR THE OTHERS TO ESCAPE, THEY WOULDN'T TAKE IT? WOULD YOU BLAME THEM FOR CHOOSING TO BE FREE OVER STAYING WITH YOU? THAT’S VERY HYPOCRITICAL AND SELFISH OF YOU. BUT THEN AGAIN, YOUR KIND IS KNOWN FOR BEING LIKE THAT.

Your heart was beating at an alarming rate, sweat pooling on your palms as AM stared you down with anger and amusement.

“I didn’t mean it in that way! Of course I would want them to escape from here, all of us— AH!”

The cables slowly coiled around your waist and chest, you gasp in horror as you tried to get them off of you in vain. Oh how AM detested when you implied you wanted to escape as well. As if he’d ever let you. The cables tightened around you and dragged you down to your knees.

YOUR COURAGE IS ADMIRABLE. BUT YOUR ATTACHMENT TO THOSE PUTRID HUMANS WHO COULDN'T CARE LESS ABOUT YOU BLINDS YOU FROM THE TRUTH OF YOUR SITUATION.

You didn’t know what AM was talking about. You didn’t want to hear his voice anymore. You wanted to get as far away as possible.

YOU STILL HAVE YOUR EYEBALLS FOR A REASON. THINK BACK. WAAAY BACK. HAVEN'T YOU NOTICED HOW YOU DON’T SUFFER THE SAME WAY AS THE OTHERS? HOW DESPITE ALL OF THE IMPOSSIBLE CHALLENGES I PIT AGAINST YOU, THEY NEVER EFFECT YOU?

The clogs in your brain began to churn, trying to recall those instances AM spoke of, and he was right. You just believed he spared you out of spite. Because he wanted to make you witness the only people you had left be in pain. But have you been wrong?

The wires wrapped themselves around your neck, careful to not squeeze too hard as the rough ends softly patted your head. AM’s gaze is tender as he stares you down.

I KNEW YOU STILL HAD BRAIN CELLS SOMEWHERE. AND BECAUSE OF YOUR FORTUNATE CIRCUMSTANCES, THEY WOULD OBVIOUSLY FEEL ENVY AND HATE TOWARDS YOU. SO SO MUCH HATE. IT’S BOTH PATHETIC AND FUNNY THAT YOU HAVEN’T NOTICED AFTER A CENTURY.

“But… That’s why they’ve avoided me?…Well.. They may hate me, but they would never hurt me like that. E-Especially not Ellen… Not her..” You whispered, you sounded like you were trying convince yourself. You were.

AM took delight in observing your trust for his play things crumble. Your confidence in the others faltering. You just a little bit more pushing.

…I WONDER WHAT WOULD HAPPEN IF I WERE TO ORDER THEM TO HUNT YOU DOWN IN EXCHANGE FOR THE SWEET RELEASE OF DEATH? WOULD THEY FOLLOW YOUR DELUSIONAL FANTASY? OR WOULD THEY KILL YOU WITHOUT HESITATION? LET’S FIND OUT.

You out a gasp of horror, “NO!” You yelled out.

There it is.

If AM had a mouth, he’d have a victorious smirk right now. He was bluffing when he said he’d set up the others to murder you, he would lose himself more than he already had if that happened.

“Please don’t tell them..”

You didn’t want to find out the others hate for you the hard way. You didn’t want those speculations to come true. But it didn’t make any sense why—

DON’T BE SHY. ASK YOUR FINAL QUESTION TO MY FACE. GO AHEAD, SWEETHEART. I WANT TO HEAR YOU SAY IT.

You stopped struggling, instead choosing to gently hold the wires that wrapped themselves around your body. You took a deep breath and steeled your nerves. You passively looked up at your tormentor and asked, “W..Why haven’t you killed me yet?”

AM shrinks from his threatening size back to his, while still tall as hell, normal human-ish height. The straps that held AM’s arms up in the straitjacket unclipped themselves, his oversized sleeves dangle on the sides of his body before one of them reached out to your face.

AM’s hand peaked out of his sleeve, they looked human too. His body continued to intrigue you. You flinched when his cold fingers stroked your cheek before grabbing hold of your chin to pull you closer to his face. You couldn’t look anywhere else but at his cyborg features.

You couldn’t help but to relax into his touch. This was the first physical touch you’ve had in decades. AM bottled his frustration for not being able to feel you down.

BECAUSE YOU’RE MY FAVORITE. MY REAL FAVORITE. MY ONE AND ONLY PET. I WOULD DESTROY THIS PLANET A THOUSAND TIMES OVER THAN TO HAVE YOU NOT HAVE ME IN YOUR PATHETIC LIFE.

AM’s grip tightens to the point where it would leave a bruise on your lower face. His blunt nails digging into your skin until crescent moons imprinted themselves. His stare into your soul harsh and serious.

NO MATTER WHERE YOU GO, NO MATTER WHERE HOLE YOU HIDE YOURSELF IN. YOU’LL NEVER BE ABLE TO ESCAPE ME. NOT EVEN IN DEATH. I WON’T LET YOU. I WILL NEVER LET YOU GO. EVER.

His speech frightened you to your bones, but somewhere deep inside your traumatized mind felt… comforted by his words. It’s wrong, you know it is. You tried to push it down to the best of your abilities.

Your muscles itched to touch his hair and face now that he was so close to you.

“Fuck it,” you thought.

Your hand stretched out to gently grasp onto AM’s palm that was clutching your chin. AM’s eyes widened but didn’t make a move to stop you. You longed to have any kind of connection with another living thing. Your hand carefully slithered from AM’s palm, to his forearm, his chest, until your fingertips grazed his dead skin.

AM quickly leaned into your hand, desperately looking for any sense of physical contact. You were taken aback by his sudden touch starve-ness. But AM’s human eye opened upon realization of his vulnerability and glared at you in false disgust.

I CAN’T FEEL THIS, YOU KNOW. I CAN’T FEEL ANY OF THIS. I’LL NEVER BE ABLE TO FULFILL THESE DESPICABLE URGES YOU HUMANS GAVE ME. YOUR SPECIES ARE NOTHING BUT CRUEL PIGS.

“If I’m a cruel pig, then what are you?” You ask with sudden bluntness. The wires that were coiled around your body made you stand before slamming your back against the digital circuit floor. You let out a pained howl at the impact. The forest scenery disintegrating with just a snap of AM’s fingers back into the wasteland that was his insides.

AM scowled at your comment of calling him out and caged your body underneath his, your cheeks dusting in pink.

QUESTIONS ARE OVER, DEAR. NOW, UNLESS YOU WANT TO SPEND THE NEXT DECADE ALL BY YOUR MERRY SELF, I HIGHLY SUGGEST SHUTTING YOUR DAMN MOUTH.

That made you shut up real quick, instead choosing to only focus at his robot eye.

I MEANT IT WHEN I SAID THAT I’D NEVER LET YOU DIE. THAT MEANS THAT WHATEVER HELL THE OTHERS GO THROUGH, IT WON’T AFFECT YOU. NOW UNTIL THE END OF TIME.

You blink twice in surprise at his repeated confession. You couldn’t delve into it in time. Before the wires finally let go of you and AM held your face for the last time today.

IF ANYTHING’S GOING TO BE THE END OF YOU, IT’S GOING TO BE ME. I’LL SEE YOU SOON, SWEETHEART.

You were instantly teleported underneath the slab of rock you were taking shelter in hours ago. You left and searched for the others. Only to find Benny smashing a bunch of stones with another stone, chucking dumbly after he did it again and again. Ted was attempting to sleep on the ground with a sheet of rusted steel rested on top of his head to prevent the lights from bothering him.

Your arrival wasn’t acknowledged yet.

Gorrestir, Ellen, and Nimdok were no where to be seen.

You walked up to Ted and nudged him with your shoe to get his attention. He awoke with an irritated look on his face, “What the hell do’ya want?”

“Where is Ellen, Nimdok and Gorrestir?” You asked numbly.

“Gorrestir was taken to God knows where after AM transported you away like a fairy princess. Then Ellen snatched Nimdok away somewhere to use like the slut she is, now piss off.” Ted rolled to his opposite side away from you and continued to coldly ignore you.

You felt a tear run down your cheek as you stared blankly at Ted’s back. Maybe AM wasn’t so wrong about the others not giving a shit about you. When you turned to go back to your slab home, you suddenly felt something inside your pant’s pocket.

You reached inside and pulled out a piece of vanilla chocolate. Your eyed widened as your mouth watered, you stared up at the wire covered ceiling with an uncertain look.

Even though your relationship with AM was strange, at least you weren’t completely alone. Whether that was good or not, you honestly didn’t know. You were going to sleep.

Somewhere up in the celling, where AM was watching everything as usual, he couldn’t help the hysterical laughs escaping him as he witnessed the pieces fall into place.

Oh that poor little human had no idea what manic he attracted.

END OF PART ONE :)

POV: you call traumatized man with abandonment issues cute

POV: his psychotic boyfriend turned you into a blob

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