#flash fic prompt game | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hoshigray · 1 year

Text

Now look here, it's sugardaddy! x sugar baby! reader time >>:3 So here's the rundown: the reader is a college senior who works part-time in a diner and finds out that their favorite customer, Toji, is a sugar daddy and wants to initiate courtship. Although it is a proposition you fail to see yourself saying no to, is this something you can see yourself being in the long run?

A/n: This prompt was picked on a poll to celebrate getting over 50 followers, only for me to get to 100 right after!!?? Y'all...can I give you a hug? ;w; No, oh okay. Anyways, I won't make another poll, BUT I'll be opening thirsts/requests soon!! >:D I just gotta make myself a disclaimer list before we let those lil fantasies of yours fly, lol. But yeah, this is my first time posting a fic over 1k+, so I hope y'all like it. Also, bonus: there's art drawn by Moi (@hoshigaby)?? You'll have to scroll down to find it tho :33 Okay, I'm sorry, go ahead and read!!!

Cw: soft dom! Toji x fem! reader - implied age gap (the reader is in their early 20s, Toji's around early or mid-30s) - mating press - cervix fucking - oral (fem! receiving) - pussy drunk Toji - breeding - daddy kink - overstimulation (fem! receiving) - pet names (baby, babygirl, darlin', good girl, honey, kid/kiddo, mama, princess, sweetie, sweetheart) - praise - clitoral play (Toji pinches your clit) - reader isn't a virgin but, it's the first time you and Toji have sex.

Wc: 4.9k

"Oh look, your favorite is here."

10 o'clock, it's closing time. All the servers and bussers are ready to buss down tables and sweep the floors, hosts at the front split up tips and head straight home, and the cooks clean the kitchen and throw out the trash. All there's left is the silence of the dining area, where not a single customer is in sight.

Well, minus the one Utahime points out to you.

You turn to the bar area, where almost all the tables are empty, and all the high-rise televisions are turned off. All but for one, which was showing a football game.

A man is watching the screen, sitting in a booth at the far end with a glass of beer on the table. He's wearing a black turtleneck covered with a denim jacket, white fur on the collar, and a silver chain contrasting the black clothing. You gaze downwards to his black jeans pants, where his left foot seems to be tapping the ground. He's waiting for someone.

Once his eyes catch your approaching figure, his deadpanned face shows a smile in recognition. He was waiting for you.

And you smile back as you walk towards him.

The familiarity with this man comes from a year working at the diner. His name is Toji Fushiguro, and he's been a regular even before you started working here. And to make things funnier, he was the first customer you served after a week and a half of training. You can recall when you accidentally put milk and sugar in his specifically requested black coffee, to which you apologized profusely ("Heh, it's alright, darlin'" He flashed a smile that was meant to reassure you. "The first time that's ever happened to me.").

It was there that you found yourself being the only person that's served him. At first, you thought of it as some sort of joke after the coffee mishap, but now, unless you're there to take his order, he'll only have a beer or black coffee with all the other servers. The crew often pokes fun at you, stating you're the older man's favorite. And you gotta admit, it makes your heart swoon knowing this is true.

"There she is," Toji watches you approach him with his foot finally stopped tapping the checkered floor beneath him. "My adorable lil' server."

You giggle as you sit on the cushioned booth seat across from him. "It's good to see you, Mr. Fushiguro. I hope life's been good for you." You wave goodbye to the guy behind the bar counter, who turns off the TV still on as Toji focuses on something else. You promised to be the last person to turn off the lights and lock the doors before leaving, so now it's just you and Toji.

"I thought I told you to drop the Mr. Fushiguro, kid." He reprimands you with his playful smile, the right corner of his lip quirking his scar upward. "And I could ask you the same thing. How's college goin', darlin'?"

An exaggerated sigh leaves your system. "It's going alright. Can't believe I'm about to be done after the next semester, but the senioritis hasn't hit me too strong yet, thank God. And I can't wait to graduate with all this debt on my back~!" You flash the fakest beaming smile with two thumbs up.

Toji chuckles at your fraud enthusiasm. "Mmmm, I bet. But I know you're smarter than me and most people who work for me, so I'm sure you'll do just fine."

"Yeah, I'd like to think so, too." Your chipper attitude dwindles, and Toji notices the change in tone.

"What's up? You don't think you'll get yourself a job?"

"Umm, well," You cough to clear your throat from awkwardness. "I tried signing up for plenty of internships. Some of them shut me down, others just haven't replied back. And I guess it's just me overthinking, but I worry that I won't get a job in something I like..."

"Aww, princess," Toji rises from his cushioned spot to move to your side, sitting close to you with his big jean-covered thigh brushing yours. He places a hand on your back to rub comforting circles. "That's just the thoughts in your head."

You groan into your hands. "I know, that's why I don't know why I'm beating myself up about it so much... But it's okay! I know I'll be fine because I still have this job keeping me going for a year."

Toji raises a brow. "You wanna be a server all your life? Wanna serve me my black coffee and BLT sandwich til my last breath?"

You hit his chest in amusement. "Well, no, but if it comes down to it, I don't mind. I'll just take up more jobs or maybe make a side hustle. Either way, I know Mei Mei will help me out. I'm sure everyone here will if they have the chance."

"I could also help you."

Your hands instantly go up defensively. "No, Mr. Fushiguro, I wouldn't want that! I'm sure you're pretty busy, and I don't want my troubles to burden you."

Toji's eyebrows knit together, his sharp eyes surveying your defensive stance. "It wouldn't be trouble if I'm the one offerin' to help you, honey."

"Yes, but even so..." You look at your lap as your fingers dance with each other to ease your anxiousness. "It would feel unbefitting to have a customer — a valuable one such as you — to help me with my financial problems. Seeing you smile at me when I serve you your coffee...I'm perfectly content with just."

Your gaze locks into your fidgety fingers, saying the last part was probably unnecessary. Yet it was true; Toji had always been patient with you whenever he stopped by, even going the extra mile by giving you a seriously generous tip after his meals. You know you didn't deserve it, but he's already at the door before you can argue with him. If his gracious action was just a mere small percent of what he could do, then he's done plenty for you than needed.

Toji, however, didn't see it that way. He hums as he leans back onto the booth seat, his hand now snaking to the back of your neck, his thumb caressing the nook of your neck and trapezius.

"Well," He breaks the silence, you're listening. "What if we take this outside of customer service?"

The brows are pulled together as you turn to him in slight confusion. "What do you mean by that?"

"I've been thinking for quite a while," with his hand maneuvering to rest on your shoulder, he sighs and straightens himself up. "Your manager, Mei Mei, right? I talked with her not too long ago, telling her how much of a hard worker you are and how even while still in school and suffering with assignments, you still smile and make sure the customers enjoy their time here."

You give him a thanks, and he continues on. "Which is why I told her about what I wanna do. So here's my proposition: I'll pay for everything for you. Your debt, bills, clothes, whatever it is your pretty lil' head is worryin' 'bout."

Toji's promise does sound comforting to the ears, but you think about your part in all this. "So, do I have to work for you?"

He chuckles. "No, baby, not working fr' me. But there is something I want you to do."

"Yes?"

Toji doesn't give you a clear answer, staring at your face with a soft smile. You wonder why he's being odd until his face leans forward, and the hand on your shoulder pushes you into a kiss. You let out a yelp into his mouth, but the shock diminishes once you succumb to his warm, intoxicating lips. He tastes like beer, definitely from his drink.

He removes his lips from you, and you faintly exhale in an unsteady breath. "Mmmm, yer too much fr' me, sweetie." Toji groans and kisses down your neck while you place a hand on his chest to grip his turtleneck for support before you dissolve into his arms. And although you shouldn't be at your work at this time of night doing this, it felt too good to end.

"I want you to be with me," Toji says in-between smooches on your neck, moving to paint the other side with his pecks. "You're so good to me, darlin', always being such a good girl." He nibbles on your clavicle, and a soft gasp rewards his eardrums. "Lemme take care of you, y/n."

All that's going through your head is the feeling of his lips on your body and the arousing throbbing sense happening in your nether core.

"Hmm, whaddya say, baby?" His lips are too close to your ear as he playfully bites the lobe. Your thighs rub against one another, and you know there's a wet spot in your panties. "Gonna be my perfect girl?"

If you don't give him an answer quick, you're bound to melt right on this seat, and being a whimpering mess to his touch is embarrassing enough.

"Haaaah...Y-yes," You finally answer in weak whispers, mind spinning and eyes glossy. "I wanna—Ahaaa...I wanna be yours."

You can feel Toji's lips curl into a smile. He lifts his head to look at you, and a hand comes up to cup your face before he gives you a soft kiss on your quivering lips.

"My good girl."

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊✩₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

A few months have passed since you and Toji formed this new relationship. And getting used to certain things is still a challenge.

For one: covering up your new lifestyle is never easy when you're out with people you know. During winter break, you went to dinner with your friends and offered to pay for the whole table. They looked at you as if you were talking nonsense ("Girl, where the hell you get that kind of money to be covering for all of us?" "For real, is this the same diner you've been working at? Are they hiring?").

Another thing that wasn't easy to get accustomed to was Toji spoiling you. Since you're a college student, Toji only sees you every other weekend when he has time. During those days, Toji doesn't hold back in showering you with gifts and affection. Between the fancy dates in expensive restaurants, riding rides at fun amusement parks, or the bags of new clothes you bring back to your dorm, it was something you didn't expect to happen so quickly. Your roommates constantly tease you about this "mystery man" who makes it known you're his special lady.

But outside of that, the most significant change was you and Toji. To say you two got closer was too easy to put into words. Sure, the money was there, so you could finally get a good night's rest without worrying too much about your school debt or bills. However, you knew this went beyond the dollar bills and the fancy clothes.

Come to find out, Toji knows and remembers things that amaze you. There was a time he bought you a whole wardrobe worth of dresses because he remembered you had to cancel dates with your friends since you had nothing cute to wear. Or the time he got you a box of your favorite teas, even though you briefly mentioned them to him during a talk way back from recollection.

And even away from the materialistic things, you can feel how much Toji loves you. You can feel it in his eyes whenever he's looking at you. You can feel it when you try to argue yourself out of trying an outfit you don't think will be good on you, but Toji coaxes you into it because he knows — not thinks, knows you'll look good wearing it. You can feel it in his hands when they hold yours, when he places a hand on your thigh and rubs it in loving warmth, or when he caresses your cheek when he kisses you goodbye when you two have to return to your own lives.

It's a type of love you didn't see yourself being on the other end of. The more immersed you are, the harder it is to imagine yourself out of it.

Spring break is now upon us, and Toji has invited you to join him overseas for a business trip. You tried to decline, saying it's his trip and you don't want to intrude on his business. That argument was immediately shut down ("Tch, believe me, sweetheart, you're saving me from bashing someone's head in if you're close to me than not. Plus, I wanna see you wear that cute swimsuit I got you."), so he dragged you on his private jet, and now we're here.

During the day is when he's away for work, so you spend the morning either in the penthouse suite you two are staying in, outside taking pictures to show Toji later or looking around at the little shops nearby. Toji is done with work around the early afternoon, so you two spend time together exploring the country, trying new foods, and taking walks around the area while talking about how your day went until the sun goes down.

Everything goes well until Thursday when Toji texts you saying something happened at work and that he'd be at the suite later than usual. Well, it's 7:45, the sun is starting to go down, and Toji is still nowhere in sight. I hope everything is alright on his end.

You're unsure about going outside for a walk on the off-chance you stay out too late. And if something happens to you while Toji isn't close by, that'll give him more to worry about on his plate, and you definitely don't want that for him.

So, you look around the penthouse to see if there's anything to keep you occupied until Toji's return, and then what catches your eye is the swimming pool outside on the terrace which you haven't tried yet. That'll do!

You go to change into a swimsuit, a cute two-piece that Toji bought for you when you two went shopping together. After a quick shower, you enter the pool and enjoy the calm waters while watching the sunset, leaving a beautiful array of colors painting the sky over you.

Tomorrow is your last day here while Toji will do business, and then you're back to school on Monday. The fact that you'll be graduating debt free still blows your mind. Toji really fulfilled his promise and took care of your worries.

Is that to say that your relationship ends once you touch that diploma?

You lift your feet and lay on your back to allow the water to hold you up, ears covered in the water and face looking into the sky as you're lost in your thoughts.

It wouldn't be too far off if Toji wanted to close this whole thing off when you graduate, as the point was for you to not worry about debt and such. That much you understood from the very beginning. But what happens after that? Do you two just go back to being acquaintances that only meet at the diner? And what about the stuff he got you? Do they stay with you forever? And do you have to fight memories of him every time you see them?

What about all the touches, all the hand-holding, all the cuddles, and all the kisses? Are they supposed to mean nothing to you the next time you see his face?

You're thankful for the water keeping you afloat in the pool, but having these thoughts attack your brain just makes you want to sink in loathing.

Until you feel something tickle your feet, having your body react in a state of panic. No longer floating on your back, you search for whatever is torturing your feet. Only to find Toji in front of you wearing black trunks, he chuckles lowly, and your heart sinks in embarrassment.

"T-Toji," You swim up to greet him. "How long were you back from work?"

"For about 10 minutes," He watches you move through the water, following you to sit in the shallow part of the pool for you two to talk. "I saw you in the pool and thought I'd join. I tried callin' out to ya, but the water was blocking your ears."

"Hehe, sorry about that. I was thinking about something. How was work?"

His face went into a deep scowl with rolled eyes, and you giggle at his nonverbal response. "Had I not known I was comin' back here to see you, I'd probably fucked that rookie up."

"That bad?"

He hums and brings you closer to him with his hand on your shoulder. "But don't worry 'bout it. And you? What were you thinking about?"

"Hmm? Oh, it was nothing," your encouraging response is fictitious.

Toji lowers a brow. "Try again."

"No, honest! It was nothing, Toji."

"Don't make me tickle you again, kiddo." You freeze and look at his face. His sharp gaze and slight grin speak for themselves about his seriousness.

A sigh is withdraw from your lips. "I was just thinking about how I'd be leaving on Saturday and being halfway done with my senior year of college."

"And?"

"And, uhh," You gulp and avert your eyes to your lap, your fingers swaying with the pool water. "I was also thinking about me... and you?"

There's silence, the lack of response eating you alive. Then you feel Toji's hand grip your shoulder.

"Are you scared I won't be with you after you graduate?"

He hit the nail because you don't answer for a few seconds. Your eyes still avoid him.

But Toji still persists. "Do you not want to be with me?"

Your head turns to face him in haste, taking you aback at how fast you were. "No! I don't want this to end. I'm grateful for how close you and I have become. I want... I want..." You fall silent once more as your head moves back to your lap as if you'd find the words you want to express lying there.

Using his free hand, Toji grabs your chin to look his way again. "What do you want, baby? Use your words fr' me."

The intense gaze of his jade-green eyes captures your attention, practically daring you to look away from him. The warmth of your cheeks spreads around your face, and you gulp before answering.

"I really appreciate all that you've done for me. And I...I really like you, Toji. I want to be with you." His face doesn't change as you ramble on, causing you to move your eyes to avoid the awkward stare. "But I wouldn't blame you if you want to stop with where we—"

Your sentence was interrupted by Toji's kiss, and a squeak was suppressed between the two lips. You exhale in bliss as your hands find purchase on his solid chest. He deepens the kiss when his hand is posted at the back of your neck.

You break the kiss to breathe, Toji's gruff chuckles fills the warm air.

"You're too adorable, princess. Do you really think I'd want to let my precious girl away from my sight?" You open your mouth to interject, but Toji lifts your hand and brings it to his lips, kissing each knuckle. "Listen here, darlin'. I didn't offer to take care of your debt on a whim. I adore the fuckin' shit out of you, and I was gonna wait til your graduation to ask if you'd still want this thing to be official."

"But now that I hear you're interested," his big hand holds yours, fingers intertwined as his thumb brushes your forefinger. "Are ya up for it?"

You breathe slowly to ease your heart, beating at an irregular tempo. You grip his hand in return and offer a sheepish smile.

"Yes. I'd like that very much, Toji."

He smirks and kisses your cheek. "Good girl." Toji has his arms placed behind your back and under your legs. Then he stands up while picking up your figure bridal style. He grins hard when you squeal in surprise as your arms sling around his neck.

"Let's shower," he walks out of the pool and into the suite. "And then afterward, I'll show you how much I've been itchin' to make you be my girl for real."

The heat on your face grows tenfold, and Toji barks a laugh when you hide your face. You can only mentally pray for yourself for what's to come.

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊✩₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

That little prayer did absolutely nothing!

Now you're lying on the bed nude and wet from the shower as the water droplets on your body slide down to the satin sheets beneath you. Your hands cover your mouth, trying to suppress the moans and sobs from exiting your lips.

And the cause of this is the man currently nestled between your legs. You can see the raven hair between your inner thighs, but you feel a wet muscle lapping around your vulva. The lewd noises of Toji eating you out fill the room and has you writhing in discomfort, and you try to slowly move your lower region away from his ravaging mouth.

"Aht aht, you're not goin' anywhere, mama." Toji's rough hands grip your waist and pull you back down, his nose brushing your clit as you jerk upwards. He lifts his head to look at you, and the image of your slick smeared all over his mouth and chin almost makes you faint.

"Put those hands down, baby. Let Daddy hear that sweet voice of yours." He uses one hand to play with your pussy, middle and forefinger abuse your inner lips as his thumb grinds down on your sweet bud. Your eyes shoot up for the stars, and you're forced to do what he says, hands gripping the sheets while your cries are out for him to hear.

"Aahhhh!! Haaah, T-Toji!! 'S too much, too—Ooohh!" His tongue returns between your cunt, licking and tasting the sticky fluid coating your pussy. Your eyes are watering, your mind starts to feel dizzy, and your legs can't stay still to save your life. He's been doing this for 15 minutes!!

You clutch his hair and wail out his name in pleasure, earning a moan from Toji as his grip on your thighs gets tighter.

He can tell you're close to finishing, so he helps you. His tongue slides from your wet center to your clitoris, licking and sucking on the extremely sensitive bud, his teeth lightly pressing down on the pearl.

Your release comes instantly, and your walls spasm as you cry in pure euphoria. Your head pushed deep into the pillow below you, letting your body finish reacting to the climax. However, Toji doesn't wait for you when his mouth drinks your essence. His tongue attacked your sore velvety walls, having you gasp for air.

When he's done, he finally withdraws from between your legs and kneels before you, taking in your disheveled figure. Your tear-stricken face and hooded eyes peer up at him as he wipes his face of your excess come, licking the rest from the back of his hand.

Toji snickers hoarsely. "Sorry, sweetheart, you tasted so fuckin' good I couldn't help myself. Besides," you watch his hands trail down to his dick as he places himself on your messy vagina. "Gotta get you prepped up fr' me."

He puts a pillow under your lower back to raise your hips more. Seeing his dick for the first time has you in mental turmoil. Toji notices you looking and sneers, pulling your hips to him so his balls practically kiss your opening, his dick on full display on your lower abdomen. The girth alone has your cunt pulsating in anticipation, and good God, the length of that thing. It's not the first dick you've seen in your life, but it's definitely the biggest challenge you've come across.

I hope those 15 minutes of prep were enough.

You come back to your senses when you feel the tip of his hefty member circling the corners of your folds, and your slick aids him as a lubricant.

"Ready, babygirl?" You exhale a nervous breath and nod for confirmation. "Okay, we're gonna start real slow."

Toji began to push the tip in, your folds being spread open to accommodate the foreign object intruding into your tight hole. You close your eyes and hold your breath, the pain worsening by the second. You take one breath, and Toji pushes further. With another breath, he goes further. Another-

A giant gasp takes over you as the tip of Toji's cock enters you. And Toji takes his time pushing himself further into you, using every fiber of his being not to rut into your tight walls off the jump.

"Haaah, hmmm, oh fuck," That's easier said than done with you gripping onto him like your life depended on it. Once he's pushed his whole cock into you, your words come out as a babbling mess, gripping his arms for support. He looks down at your disarranged self, chuckling at such a wonderful sight. "You look really fuckin' sexy layin' under me, baby."

"God...Toji," Tears stream down your cheeks, wincing at the pain down south. "'S too muuu-ch, too big for—Hnnngh!!" A sudden thrust of the hips has you biting down on your bottom lip.

"C'mon now, I thought I told you about that. I already let it slide once or twice." Toji places your legs on his shoulders and leans close to you, his body weight adding onto yours as the base of his cock grinds into your sex. "What's my new name, mama?"

"Ah!! I'm sorry, Daddy." The title comes through sobs.

Toji grins from ear to ear, wiping your tears with his calloused fingers. "Good girl," he kisses your forehead as you adjust to his girthy length. "So fuckin' pretty fr' Daddy." He takes your lips with his soft ones before moving his hips in a slow yet rough rhythm.

The mating press has your body submit to him, taking in his cock as it sinks deep into your swollen core. And it only gets worse when his pace gets faster, hitting your sweet spots accurately. At this rate, you're bound to cum earlier than necessary.

Then you feel his tip abruptly touch your cervix, and the wail you let out is picked up by Toji's ears. "Oh? Think I found what I was lookin' for." His hips grind deep in you, his tip abusing your poor cervix to the point you speak in tongues. "Feelin' good, princess?"

"Fuck, Daddyyyy, please, I'm-Ahaaah, Ohhh!" His irrational pace has your brain turning to mush, his cock bullying your insides. The sound of his balls slapping against your squelching folds has you squeezing him harder. "I'm gonna cu-cumm!!"

Toji hisses into your ear, the tone of his voice dominating your senses. "Oooooh, don't grip on me like that, sweetie. Gonna end up — Mmmph! Shit, shit, shit, shit...Gonna give you a baby."

You reach to cup his face through watery eyes glazed in a haze. "Please, Daddy, I want it," You know you're talking nonsense, but why care when you're feeling this fucking good. "Inside, I want it, inside!"

"Heh, be careful with what you wish for, mama." He kisses you again as his hips become erratic, and he moves a hand to your clit and pinches it, whining into your mouth when you're cunt clutches onto him one final time.

You cum around his cock and push your head back on the pillows, your gushy walls spasming around his length, prompting Toji to cum inside you after a few more thrusts. You two moan into each other's mouths, riding each other's high until your bodies calm down.

The two of you pant heavily once the kiss is broken apart, and his deep emerald orbs take in your dazed expression. He smiles when he notices drool on the side of your mouth, using a thumb to wipe it off for you.

"My sweet darlin'," Toji kisses your cheek and sighs deeply into your embrace. "You're too good fr' me, baby."

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊✩₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

"Did I say that I want your babies?"

You're resting with Toji, your head relaxed on his chest as you sit between his legs. The television in the bedroom plays an episode of a sitcom, anything for you two to look at and enjoy a moment of peace together.

He snickers at your question, his chest rising and falling as you lay on him feels nice. "Yeah, you kinda did."

"Wow, that sex must've screwed something up in my head."

"Yeah, my dick had you wanting to risk it all." He snorts when you playfully hit his arm. "Don't worry, we can find some plan b in the morning."

Turning to face Toji, still watching TV, you furrow your brows. "We? What about work?"

"I have tomorrow off. It's your last day, and I don't feel like going back to work, or else I'll be sour all fuckin day. Much rather spend it with you than with some morons."

You look at Toji for a little longer before you smile and kiss his cheek, catching the older man off guard as you nestle into his warm body. "Thank you, Toji. For everything."

The thanks carry a deeper meaning. Not a single ounce of doubt clouds your mind now that you've gotten the closure you wanted. Thinking about how your life brought you to this moment, you're happy with your decision to pursue this relationship and more. And it's thanks to this man for making it possible.

Toji still stares at you before he scoffs and kisses your temple.

"No problem, kiddo."

4K notes · View notes

blkkizzat · 6 months

Text

ღ 𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞!𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐨 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐 ღ

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐 𝐨𝐟 𝟐 (part 1)

18+ONLY MDNI

kizzatober series: Smooth Criminals

Kinktober Prompts: Clothed Male/Naked Female, Thigh Riding, Knife Play Synopsis: The university campus is being terrorized by a copycat Ghostface killer. As a popular sorority girl with a dumb jock bf, you are a prime choice to be his next victim especially given how he can't stop thinking about you. But you're no ordinary Sorority Girl bimbo, now are you? CW: AU college fic. blood obsession/hematolagnia, bimbo reader, murder, slight DV/SA mentions (from your npc jerk ass bf), unprotected sex, masturbation, LOTS of teasing/foreplay, slight age gap (roughly 21 vs 28) and dark content. NOTE: If death/killer romanticization related shit triggers you this is probably a fic to avoid because that is happening all through this bitch. I literally wrote a murder fluff smut fic lmfao. WC: 9.9 of 15.4k Lightly black fem coded (reader is an AKA lmfao) but no descriptors.

A/N: I had no idea so many people would be this hyped for Part 2. No really, I'm shocked! But It gets real here peoples! Lots of smut and dark shit below so please read the content warnings! I don't want no crying in the mentions and DMs cause y'all should know how out of pocket I am by now and I took it there lmfao.

If you riding with me still Thank You for putting up with my OCD bullshit and for all the support, comments and reblogs on Part 1! y'all real asf & ilysm

Enjoy!

Previously:

“Whatever, let’s fucking go Y/N. We have an important party to throw later.”

Dean grabs your wrist and jerks you away with you barely being able to grab your bag.

Your stomach twists and you are at a complete loss for words but manage to flash an apologetic look at Choso while you are dragged off.

However when your eyes meet he looks right through you.

The expression on his face is stone cold and it sends a chill up your spine.

☠

Sigh.

For the first time ever in your life you are miserable at a party.

To say you had been excited leading up to today would have been an understatement. The initiation party after rush was one of the biggest events in the greek system and you had led the charge this year in planning the party.

Nevertheless, any cheerful enthusiasm you held had been trampled on by the disaster that had taken place earlier in the day with Choso.

If getting out of going wouldn’t be more trouble than it was worth you would have faked being sick. It’s not like you hadn’t already stressed yourself into a headache.

Yet here you were suffering through, completely sober. Not even being able to bring yourself to drink away your problems.

How could you even pretend to enjoy yourself when your forced smile cracked as soon as the mental image of Choso’s icy expression looped through your mind?

Your chest got a little tighter each time you remembered and it frazzled your nerves.

Just about everyone and everything annoyed you right now.

Even the party: Hunter vs Hunted, one of your favorites, was soured.

Typically the theme entailed girls dressed up as various exotic animals or woodland creatures and the boys dressed as safari game hunters or woodsmen. But this time around, no thanks to singular frat boy hivemind, they all got the bright idea to collectively cosplay as Ghostface.

Taking a new meaning on Hunter.

They couldn’t carry knives on campus of course so they all carried around metal bats which they probably stole from the baseball team.

Sure, let’s all dress up as the masked serial killer while he is still on the loose.

You rolled your eyes.

The pilfered bats were a hazard waiting to happen too. You could only be thankful that the party was at Dean’s frat and not your own sorority so him and the rest of those idiots could fuck their own shit up once they inevitably got way too hammered and started swinging them around.

You mostly just wished they hadn’t changed the plan without telling you.

Then at least you could have dressed up in line with the horror theme and wouldn’t have had to wear this sexy Bambi costume which although skimpy, the fur parts made it way too hot to be wearing in a crowded party indoors.

On edge and not being able to leave, you did the next best thing and sequestered yourself in the kitchen pantry.

It was spacious and a lot cooler than the rest of the house.

You made yourself look busy in there by restocking snacks and making sure there was an ample supply of red cups ready to go around for the keg.

When someone did notice you tucked away, you gave the best fake smile you could muster and made-up an excuse not to join in on whatever drinking game they were playing promising you would ‘catch up in a minute.’

Fortunately for you, most of your friends and sorority sisters were a bit too faded by this point to notice you missing and never joining in.

Maybe a bit longer and you could slip out unnoticed?

That was your plan at least until you felt Dean throw an arm over you from behind.

“There you are babe!”

Urgh.

The overwhelming ick and nausea you felt from him touching you rivaled your worst hangover.

You immediately shrug him off.

“Come on babe don’t be like that. Get a freshman to take over. We're gonna play rage cage.”

You threw Dean a wary look.

You try to tell him you aren’t in the mood but of course your selfish dickhead of a boyfriend ignores you.

Dean then proceeds to pull your arm and lead you out of the pantry through the kitchen.

On a different day you probably would have just given in, easier to go along with the flow than cause an issue. Today however was different and the last thing in the world you wanted to do was play fucking rage cage with a bunch of horny frat boys who were just trying to get girls drunk enough to fuck.

“Goddamnit, Dean I said no!”

Your tolerance had boiled past its limits.

You forcibly snatch your hand back, knocking some empty bottles over on the counter in the process which come crashing down to the floor shattering into pieces.

Your words and movements dripped with so much aggression you surprised yourself, Dean and the people around you who had turned to see what the commotion was.

”No? No? You’re really telling me no Y/N? After you’ve been acting like a fuckin’ bitch all day since I crashed your make out session with that freak.”

Immediately self-conscious, your eyes darted around the crowd of people that had now turned their full attention toward you.

You hated confrontation and never wanted to be that couple fighting at a party.

Ducking down quickly, you begin to pick up the shattered pieces of bottled glass on the floor.

The pounding of your headache against your temples grew feverishly and the harsh fluorescent kitchen lights started to make you feel faint, you hoped Dean would just let this go if you backed down.

“Look, we’ll talk about that later, ok? Just please don’t be an asshole Dean, I really don’t feel good right now.”

You pleaded with him, quietly trying to quell the situation.

But true to his infamous asshole nature, Dean wasn’t going to let you off so easily. He wanted to humiliate you as he felt you humiliated him in front of his friends earlier with that nobody loser.

”Now, I’m the asshole?” Dean questioned to his frat brothers smugly.

“Hey, maybe I am for having a girlfriend like Y/N, who would slut herself out for a grade in front of the entire quad!”

Dean had all but yelled that last part out. Your drunken clown of a boyfriend didn’t care if he caused a scene at your expense.

Now you had the full attention of everyone in the kitchen.

You took a shaky breath as you stood up and felt the crunch of broken glass beneath your heels.

An unfamiliar sensation of rage rises within you.

It really wasn’t in your nature to be angry even when you were upset, you mostly just cried but now you were pissed to say the least.

He has some fucking nerve.

Especially when you knew no one starting on the football team studied at all and were all automatically passed through whatever easy bullshit major they signed up for.

“Dean–”

You start yet pause for a moment, trying to keep your cool.

“–you know how hard I study.”

Twisting the proverbial knife in your back to wind you up further Dean continued.

“Yeah, Y/N That's what’s so pathetic about it. You get Bs. That pussy ain’t even good enough for an A. I would know.”

Collective gasps, snickers and whispers arose from around the kitchen. Word had spread of your fighting as more people gathered in the doorway.

Typically this is where you would have run off crying. However, you were exhausted mentally and emotionally. You had already cried for a good hour today while getting ready.

The only emotions you had readily available to tap into was the hidden well of resentment and ire you held for Dean.

“And how would you even know what good pussy is Dean? You can’t last longer than two pumps, is it not all the same for you?”

You snapped back.

Your fists had formed into a tight ball.

You are so enraged you can’t even feel the prick from the broken glass bottle still in your hand puncturing your skin.

How long has it been since you stood up for yourself?

You can’t remember the last time you even fought with anyone like this but it felt good seeing the smug look on his face fall as his friends around him jeered and laughed.

“I know how to settle this Y/N.”

Dean mused as he yanked one of your sorority sisters nearby toward you.

“How ‘bout we ask Aaliyah then, eh? She got more than 2 pumps last weekend after you left the party to go chase after Ghostface–”

Your head snaps to your AKA sister in question, Aaliyah, who looked like she saw a cursed spirit as all the color drained from her face. Her eyes shamefully hit the floor before they met your gaze.

She couldn’t even look at you which only further solidified Dean’s accusations.

So Dean himself confirmed he’d been cheating on you? Cool.

With your own Sorority sister, who you considered one of your besties since you both rushed together?

Even better.

Blood slowly trickled out of your hand to drip on the floor from how rigidly you held onto the glass but the small red puddle went unnoticed as your whole vision was already saturated with the color red when you looked at Dean who hadn’t even finished his disrespectful tirade.

“–Although on second thought, it was probably an excuse for you to go suck off that loser freak TA of yours right?”

More heckles erupted from the crowd around you and you don’t think you have ever hated someone so much in your life as you hated Dean right at this moment.

Sure you were upset with Aaliyah but your fury was purely focused on Dean.

He had some nerve to start so much shit earlier over an almost-kiss when he was fucking your good friend behind your back.

“And how fucking out of her mind was she then, huh Dean? Would she even remember? You pathetic piece of shit...”

You get directly in his face.

“...that limp dick of yours fumbles orgasms like you fumble passes. That’s why we lost the big game last week. And guess what? That's also why we’re now OVER!”

Dean’s bulky build towers over you but he might as well have been 3 feet tall to you as the razor edge of your words eviscerate him.

“So who’s the fucking loser now Dean?”

Everyone in the room was stunned into silence by the venom dripping from someone they had never even heard raise their voice before.

You don't notice anyone else's reactions though as suddenly you became hyperaware of the large fractured piece of bottled glass cutting into you.

Your eyes flickered back to Dean as your hand twitches.

For a fleeting moment you felt an inkling urge to drive the glass in your hand directly into Dean’s smug ass face.

Yet whatever dark fury burned in you was instantly snuffed out as you felt a flood of cold bitter beer splash down on you from Dean’s red solo cup.

”Why don’t you cool off for a bit dear,” Dean cooed at you, mocking you and your now ruined Bambi costume as he and the frat boys around you started to roar with laughter.

That was it.

You were done.

Dean had succeeded in humiliating you.

Any contention or further will to fight within you had dissipated the moment you were doused in beer.

The glass in your hand drops onto the ground as a dull ache radiates from your wound that continues to seep blood onto the floor.

“I hope you realize this is the last time an AKA will grace this sorry ass frat for a party. I’ll see to that. Enjoy the rest of your night fellas!”

The icy air of your words contrasted with the perfect pageant smile you gave them and it unsettled those around you especially as they all notice the blood gushing from your hand.

The crowd immediately parts as you leave. No one dares utter a word to you as you exit the party through the side kitchen door.

You can feel your phone go off as you get a flurry of group texts and missed facetimes. Most of your sisters weren’t even in the kitchen to witness the scene.

You respond to the group chat to tell them just to stay and enjoy the party and turn your phone on ‘do not disturb.’

You just wanted to be alone.

You’d deal with the fallout tomorrow.

☠

Choso wore a twisted grin hidden under his Ghostface mask.

The hunter vs hunted party meant a perfect time for him to hunt.

Leaning against a building Choso was shrouded in the dark cover of shadows far removed from campus lights.

Old habits, he mused. There was really no need for him to hide at all tonight.

He could actually walk around openly as Ghostface now without causing alarm seeing as how most of those fraternity morons were dressed up like him tonight.

This made things even easier.

Choso scanned the area for his next prey.

Someone, anyone alone would do.

Choso had been itching to spill blood since he had the enticing inclination to slash your boyfriend’s throat earlier.

Currently he wanted nothing more than to see a violent geyser of blood spurt from his next victim. Having it be a shithead frat guy would only sweeten the kill so he had stalked close to frat row for his latest victim.

There.

Seeing movement in the distance, a lone figure, Choso cautiously advances trailing in the shadows towards them until they come into focus under the street lights.

He nearly does a double take when he recognizes it's you.

Shouldn’t Miss-Perfect-Social-Butterfly be having the time of her life right now with her cretins being crowned queen of the frats or something?

Choso thought bitterly.

That is, until he got a good look at you.

You were wet and shivering as you failed to sniff back the tears pouring down your face.

Despite his desire to stay angry with you, his jaw involuntarily clenches as he had never seen you this upset before.

Something had happened.

Choso confused look turns deadly as vision travels down to see you nursing the hand you cradled to your chest. He recognizes blood running down your forearm to stain your already soiled costume.

A territorial urge swelled within him, not knowing you had inflicted your own injury.

You were his prey.

It was unforgivable for someone else to spill what was his to enjoy.

Choso immediately concluded the cause of it was Dean.

Boyfriend or not he would gladly gut that motherfucker at the drop of a dime.

He hadn’t forgotten how roughly he had dragged you off earlier.

And more importantly how you had let that asswipe drag you off. That honestly had fired his temper more than anything.

A storm of conflicting feelings, Choso yearns to see more of your blood splattered on the ground as much as he secretly covets to have you writhing underneath him.

Should he approach you?

No. Not yet.

Although, he would never have a more perfect chance than now to kill you if he was ever actually going to go through with it.

Securing his knife on the inside of his robe, Choso silently propels himself after you.

Never falling too far behind, he vigilantly watches you from a distance as both your protector and predator.

☠

A warm shower was just what you needed but you were pissed you had to wash your hair 3 times to get the smell of Milwaukee's out, which proved insanely hard to do with one functioning hand.

You could have killed Dean.

No actually though, as you remembered the dark seething compulsion you felt.

You weren’t sure what had gotten into you earlier.

Pushing those thoughts to the side though you focused on the gash in your hand, it was pretty gnarly.

You were just thankful the first aid kid in your sorority house had enough gauze and tape until you could get to the campus nurse tomorrow.

You probably needed stitches as any sudden movements had the fragile skin of your palm bleeding again.

Returning to your room in a comfy pink cotton bra and thong you throw your towel over a chair.

You start to reach for your fluffy robe when you see Choso’s black track jacket on your desk. It still had the small coffee stains on it from earlier but you opted to slip into it anyway.

Truthfully, you lied to him.

You hadn’t just been carrying it around waiting to give it back to him.

You had worn it more times this past week than you would willingly admit to anyone.

You even took it on purpose instead of your actual jacket this morning not actually thinking you would run into Choso but when you had seen him, you knew you wanted him to see you in it.

With a sigh of frustration, you dove face first into the pillows of your bed as you curled into his jacket.

It was your only comfort at the moment.

Your mind wanders and you can’t help but think of how better a boyfriend Choso would have been to you.

Dean would never let you wear his jackets, no matter how cold you were. He said you were too air-headed and would ruin or lose it.

Not that he wasn’t right, you definitely were accident prone.

But that's why it had meant so much to you when Choso, not even your boyfriend, had given you his own without a second thought.

You only hoped he didn’t hate you now.

Not that you could blame him if he did.

Even you hated you a bit for even being with a jerk like Dean in the first place no matter how convenient you thought it had been for you.

How could you even face Choso in class next week?

Despite your heart crumpling when you thought of Choso’s cold intimidating gaze being cast upon you again, you admittedly had never seen a look that intense before from anyone.

It was also impossible to forget the ravenous look in his eyes when he was so close to kissing you.

He looked as if he would devour you whole.

God, everything about him was so sexy.

His strong jaw set firm, his eyes dark pools that sucked you in even from memory, his lean muscular body.

You wish you had realized how bad you had been crushing on him sooner. Before everything got so fucked up.

You fidgeted as an ache developed between your legs.

Turning your head to the side you used your bandaged hand to gently push his jacket collar into your face.

It still smelled like him despite how many times you’ve worn it this week and despite the faint smell of old coffee from earlier.

Squirming on your bed, you tried in vain to keep your legs from sliding against each other creating more friction as your body became increasingly hotter.

A shameless whine escaped your lips as you huffed his woody masculine scent in and out.

Your legs rubbed together more eagerly.

Shit, you were so horny.

Still laid flat on your belly you lifted your hips up for access as a manicured finger pressed into your clit toying with yourself from the outside of your pink cotton thong.

Choso was so meticulous, so knowledgeable in everything he did you were sure he knew how to make you cum.

You were desperate for him as you remembered what it felt like when he caught you from falling last week.

How good would his sculpted chest feel pressed into you now?

Would he look at you with the same want that flared across his features when he had gotten a glimpse of your panties you had intentionally put on display for him?

You didn’t miss how it matched the look he gave you when he nearly kissed.

“Choso…”

You moaned out loud.

You could feel the wet spot your teasing was earning you spread over your thong as your cunt continued to drool over your fantasies of him.

Craving more you lifted your ass up higher while your fingers fumbled to slide under the flimsy fabric.

“A-ahhh s-shit Cho– F-fuck!”

You panted as you sunk two fingers into your cunt. You worked to diligently pump them in and out of you as you pressing your palm down firmly over your swollen clit.

Your face buried itself deeper in his jacket as you gasped and your warm breath pushed back against you as you imagined it was his own tickling your neck.

All your senses screamed with want to be consumed by him and you pined for the feeling of his cock stretching your wet cunt instead of your slim fingers that weren’t cut out for the job.

“F-fuck C-Choso.. Mmm, let me cum.”

You practically sobbed when you glided a third finger into your pussy, two wasn’t enough to quell the craze that had overtaken you.

Ironically and unbeknownst to you, Choso (who had hidden himself in your closet during your shower), was mere moments away from losing his own goddamn mind.

Wholly entranced, he listened to you wantonly call for him like a sweet siren song and watched utterly fixated on the way you fiercely finger fucked your pussy like it was his own cock.

All the while in his jacket sniffing the sweaty soiled material like some filthy fucking pervert.

Fuck!

When he had followed you back to the sorority house he had finally resolved to kill you, but now he was at a standstill as there was no plausible way this was actually happening in front of him.

The obscene ASMR of your cunt sloshing rang in his ears and your legs quivered obscenely with you approaching your orgasm.

Your desperate thrusts caused his oversized jacket to ride up to your hips revealing the way your ass bare ass jiggled when you drove your hips down and pushed your digits up deeper into your core that waited greedily to suck them in.

You chanted out Choso’s name with urgency straining your voice as you climaxed. The bed creaked from you now humping the mattress while riding out your high.

Shit you were fucking sexy.

Thought you'd just been toying with him for fun all this time...

Until now.

Choso’s grip on his knife tightened as adrenaline surged through his body.

He could feel the blood pumping through his dick.

He wanted to fuck you.

Badly.

Give you what you’ve both been needing all this time.

Choso fully bricked, suppressed a hiss through clenched teeth as he palmed the bulge in his pants but remained otherwise still.

He can’t imagine a positive reaction if he burst out of your closet as Ghostface nor could he just take off his mask and pop out of your closet as your TA like he was some fucking creeper.

This was pure agony.

You never failed to find some way to unravel him.

Choso was so tense, his body coiled so tightly, he couldn't control his thigh involuntarily twitching and his knee recoiled against your closet door.

He cursed himself for the millionth time at the lack of control he had around you, he had never had to restrain himself so much around anyone else.

Ecstasy was etched on your features as you looked around puzzled from where the noise came from.

However, the even louder boom of the front door slamming shocked you out of your blissful daze and stole your attention away.

You sat up quickly and wondered if your sorority sisters were back already.

You glanced at the clock.

10:32 pm.

It was still much too early for them to leave.

But who else could it be?

You groaned and reluctantly hopped off the bed, zipping up Choso’s jacket fully to hide the slick between your legs and went out to greet them so you could avoid them coming into your room and return to your solitude as quickly as possible.

You were tired, frustrated and still horny as hell.

You only wanted make yourself cum hard enough you could fall asleep and end this miserable ass day.

☠

“Girls~! You really didn’t have to leave so early~!”

You call out to your sisters.

It was a little late for a show of solidarity if that's what they thought they were doing.

You rolled your eyes.

But it was eerily quiet as you received no response.

That’s odd.

Walking down the hall you froze once the view from the top floor opens into the foyer below and you see the front door wide open.

Not a single soul in sight or to be heard.

“Girls?”

Fight or flight senses kick into gear altering you to the possible dangers below.

You might be a bit of a ditz but you studied enough forensics and had seen enough scary movies to know how this shit usually ended.

You turn back to run to your room to call someone but stopped as you noticed your phone on the entryway table by the door.

Crap.

Steeling yourself you slowly inched your way towards the staircase, stopping at times to lean over the banister for any signs of someone.

“This isn’t funny girls! You know I’ve already had a really shitty night!”

But only the hollow sound of wind whipping through the door answered you as it swayed on its hinges.

This was an older house.

Maybe you didn’t close the door all the way in the beginning?

No one in your sorority house ever locked the doors, which now you considered probably wasn’t the greatest tradition to keep up while you were at home all alone and a serial killer was on the loose.

You crept down the stairs trying to silence any creaks as best you could.

“I swear on a stack of Vogues if this is a prank you all of you whores will all be on campus clean-up community service duty for the rest of the semester!”

Still nothing but silence as you reached the bottom of the staircase.

The lights were on in the entire house. From what you could tell the den and living room areas surrounding the foyer were empty.

You sighed. Maybe it was just the wind.

You close the door and this time make sure to lock it as you clutch your phone and turn to scamper back upstairs when you feel something grab at you from behind.

“Want to die Y/N?”

You let out a screech as you whip your around to see a figure you recognize as Ghostface reach for you as you stumble backwards into the den.

Tripping over your own feet, you fall back landing on your injured hand and knocking your head against the edge of a coffee table.

A roar of laughter erupts as you groan dazed from the floor.

“You really are a clumsy ditz, babe.”

Puzzled and near concussed, you blink through blurry vision to see Dean pull off the Ghostface mask as he crouches down to your level and leans on his metal bat tauntingly.

Pain blossoms sharply in the back of your head and you can feel the puncture wound on your hand open and saturate your bandage.

“The fuck are you doing here Dean?”

You glared up at him through your one good hand that covered your face as you struggle to get your bearings back.

You couldn’t catch a fucking break tonight.

“Still being a huge bitch even though I came all the way over here to say sorry, eh?”

Dean hummed, brow raised as he chuckled.

“I thought a little fright would put you in a good mood, Y/N.”

“Nice way of apologizing Dean. Insult me, scare me half to death and give me a concussion.”

You knew this man was not sorry at all.

Someone sober enough had probably informed Dean that you did have the power to essentially kill their fraternity’s social life, cucking his entire house for the foreseeable future. They likely sent him to make things right with you ASAP.

But even with all that on the line your tool of an ex was such a huge dick he couldn’t even do the bare minimum to give you a decent apology like an actual human being (not that you would have accepted it).

“I see I was right about one thing though.”

Dean got your attention as he pointed down at the moisture running down your legs.

You immediately pull Choso’s jacket down further to cover yourself.

You couldn’t give a fuck what he thought at this point. You’d confess to fucking the entire Forensics department if got him out of your face.

“Sure Dean, think what you want okay? Just fucking GET. OUT.”

You felt dizzy from the pressure thrumming in the back of your skull.

“Yeah and if I say no whore? Then what?”

Dean slid a clammy hand over your knee which sent another wave of nausea through you, your head spinning.

You squeezed your eyes shut as you tried to stop his hand traveling lower before you suddenly noticed Dean’s body being ripped away from you entirely.

The scene that followed occurred in a whirlwind as your head felt like it would explode trying to focus on anything.

Your eyes strain to keep up with the action only registering fractions of it through your blurred vision.

You see…blood?

Is it yours?

No. It’s flowing from Dean’s shoulder.

Another person?

…Ghostface?

Yes.

Your double vision struggled to pinpoint exactly what was happening as Dean and the masked Ghostface fought for dominance, somehow ending up back in the foyer.

Dean was barely able to keep the large hunting knife from sinking into his chest.

Was this even real?

Were you really about to witness a Ghostface crime scene in action?

Were you next?

You felt like you were witnessing it all play out through someone else’s body as your mind floated off and you felt more disconnected.

Your awareness faded in and out.

There was no doubt, you definitely had a small concussion.

“Y/N!”

Your head snaps up as you finally hear Dean shouting your name although it sounded like you were in a fishbowl.

He had somehow gotten leverage and evened the odds with the killer as they both now had a hold of the blade’s handle.

“Y/N! Pay attention you ditzy ass bimbo! Don’t just sit there looking stupid, get the fucking bat.”

You scanned the floor around you.

Sure enough, there was the scuffed metal bat shining back at you resting by your knees.

Your injured hand grazes it and you see a red trail of blood smearing across it as the cool smooth metal soothes your ruptured skin.

“Y/N, what the fuck are you daydreaming about?! Get your ass over here!”

You grip the bat’s handle, ignoring the pain to use it and the coffee table as leverage to push you up off the floor.

You sway on your feet as your blood pressure drastically drops from standing too quickly.

Your head feels light.

Your body feels light.

Surprisingly too, even the large heavy metal bat now feels light in your injured palm.

“Fucking finally, Y/N!”

Dean yelled as he saw you on your feet.

“It’s not like I’m trying to fight off a killer here or anything dumb bitch.”

Dumb bitch?

Oh yeah, he means you.

God, Dean was fucking annoying you just wished he would shut up sometimes.

You couldn’t even think straight.

What were you doing again?

Right, the bat. He told you to bring it to him.

You wanted to sit down again. You were so tired.

You couldn't rest though as Dean’s voice was ringing in your ears.

You just wanted him to shut up more than anything so you willed yourself forward.

“Give Dean the bat, Give Dean the bat.”

You lowly repeated in a mantra like state.

Your vision was spotted with black dots swirling like the pain in your head.

GiveDeanthebatGiveDeanthebatGiveDeanthebat

You gripped the handle in both hands.

You were going to give Dean the bat.

“Y/N! Goddamn bitch move your lazy fuckin–”

C-R-A-C-K!

The slick sound ricochets throughout the entryway and reverberates in your ears.

C-R-A-C-K!

You feel warm droplets of moisture spray on you.

C-R-A-C-K!

The bat and Dean’s motionless body both simultaneously hit the floor with a thud.

You closed your eyes.

You felt… relief?

Like you could breathe again as the hazy veil that had shrouded your thoughts lifted and the throbbing in your head slowly receded.

You weren’t sure how to describe what you were feeling but it was some mix between euphoria, exhilaration and… freedom?

Well, you were finally free of Dean for good now.

You couldn’t help but be amused by that thought as you wiggle your toes in the warm red liquid that pooled around them.

A child-like giggle resounds from you.

Was this post nut kill clarity?

Catching a glimpse of yourself in the hallway mirror you noticed blood and chunks of brain matter strewn all over Choso’s jacket.

You wouldn’t be able to go without washing it now.

You frowned at the thought of his scent being washed away as well as you unzipped it, checking to see if the stains seeped through the lining too.

You had made such a mess.

Quick movements out of the corner of your eyes reminded you of the fact you were not alone.

The actual Ghostface killer stood mere feet away from you, his intentions clear as he visibly heaved and extended his knife out to the side approaching you.

You sighed exhausted.

“I’m not going to be able to blame this one on you, am I?”

Ghostface shook his head, confirming what you already knew.

☠

Choso felt his own adrenaline reach a frenzied peak.

He approached you with the animalistic stature of a predator who was sizing up another.

You were a killer now, no longer simply his prey.

Proving as much as eyes showed no remorse for the life you had taken.

Yet given what he had walked in on just minutes ago and how distraught you were leaving the party, there was nothing for to mourn anyway.

The only emotion your shown was concern for the on coming threat of him as you backed up to keep from his advances.

Heh, that could just as easily be him right now bleeding out on the floor.

He mused as he side stepped Dean’s body to stalk closer towards you.

Choso smirked, he was only disappointed he wasn’t the one to kill him.

Although he couldn’t deny how beautiful you looked creating your own work of art.

A bit abstract and not as precise as his own methods.

Nevertheless, Choso continues to be amazed by how his cute and clumsy little undergrad just showed him a darkness he had only previously recognized in himself.

Choso watches you back away until your ankles hit the bottom of the staircase.

Your feet and hands were slick with blood and you couldn’t find your footing on the steps nor support yourself on the railing so you were forced to scooch up the stairs.

Yet given your injury even that proved difficult for you.

What would he do with you now?

“W-We’re even right? You saved me, I saved you.”

You tried to bargain as you saw him crawl up the staircase after you.

Ghostface cocked his head to the side considering your words as he reached you and stopped your escape with a strong gloved hand digging into the flesh of your hip.

Ghostface suspended himself over you covering your frame entirely and his metallic blade glared in the light as if it would pierce into you at the slightest whim.

Were you going to die like this?

Despite the danger you couldn’t help but be a bit turned on.

Especially as Ghostface’s touch reminded you so much of–

“Did you get off on killing your boyfriend Y/N?”

Ghosface taunted, speaking for the first time.

“...or were you already this fucking wet from fantasizing about someone else, hm?”

Your eyes widened.

Your mind raced too fast to reach a succinct conclusion. But you were disappointed to hear a voice box distortion instead of the actual person's voice beneath the mask.

Your flurry of jumbled thoughts are paused when you feel the cool caresses of the flat metal side of his blade drag across the skin of your stomach leaving goosebumps in its wake.

Your chest heaved slowly with steady intensity as your breath shuddered.

“Are you turned on now Y/N?”

You look away from Ghostface as he taunts as you. You feel more self-conscious considering who you think is under the mask.

Just how fucked up was it you were turned on from murdering your boyfriend in cold blood to save a serial killer who might have been the guy you had just been masturbating to who was also the serial killer Ghostface and very likely about to kill you now?

Very.

Very fucked up was the answer.

You would have been ashamed if you could bring yourself to care.

Choso’s jerks your face back to him as the hand with the blade parts your legs.

The lust in your eyes and your drenched cunt were all the answers he needed.

“AHH!”

You cry out as you feel the smooth metal come down to slap your clothed pussy hard and slide against your lips.

You fight the urge to close your legs. You can’t or the sharpened edges of the knife would stab your thighs.

You bite your bottom lip to the point of drawing blood.

This does not go unnoticed by Choso as he brings his gloved hand to your lips to soothe the bite.

His soft leather covered thumb hooks past your lips to guide your mouth open, exploring your mouth as you openly moan.

“Tsk, Tsk, we can't have you breaking skin and wasting more of that pretty blood that belongs to me.”

You shiver at his words dripping in possessiveness and your mouth encloses around his thumb, sucking as your tongue still squirms under its pressure.

A strained hiss comes from Choso and his eyes roam down to admire the slime trail of sticky fluid your clothed cunt dripped his blade.

Before Choso can get a peak at your pussy your hands fly down to cover yourself.

Amused, Choso gently removes his hand from your mouth to palm your inner thigh as his thumb slick from your spit rubs circles into your flesh.

His coaxing has you spreading your legs wider as he brushes up against the hands covering your cunt.

“Show me Y/N.”

He breathed out.

You pouted and shook your head.

“Is my little slut a liar then? I recall you telling me you didn’t mind if I saw your panties.”

Your suspicions confirmed you gasped in realization but Choso could no longer control himself as his hunting knife returned to your body to trail up your stomach this time the pointy edge hovering over your soft skin.

Your stomach sucks in to create distance between the blade and your skin causing your chest to push up through your arms but it's exactly what Choso had wanted.

Whoosh

With a swift slash through the air his blade slices your bra in two and its straps fall back down your shoulders laying bare your breast and hardened nipples to the cool air.

Exposed, your hands instinctively move from you core to cover your tits.

You see Choso pull back from you to sit up fully.

No longer touching you as he opted to imprint into his memory the imagery of your wet puffed pussy glistening through the soaked and now nearly transparent thong which clung to your lower lips like second skin.

He shifted his mask as the voice box moved from over this mouth.

“Y/N” he sighed.

Hearing his actual voice had you whining with need again.

Choso couldn’t keep his hands off you for long as he grasped hold of your thong and slipped his fingers between the fabric covering your cunt.

Choso rubbed the sticky moisture on the thin fabric between his thumb and forefingers while his knuckles bullied into your clit, causing your toes to curl.

“Mmm C-Choso.”

Your hands went from simply covering your tits to messaging them, pulling on your nipples, as you couldn’t hold back the sounds from the pleasure you felt from him touching you.

Shit. He wanted to ruin you.

Choso’s knife returns to your throat applying soft pressure dangerously close to breaking skin.

“So tell me what you want then, Y/N?”

Choso knew you wanted him but he wanted you to say it.

He needed you to admit it to him outright before he could really believe it.

His knuckles had stopped teasing your clit and your body trembled as you bucked your hips into his hand and pouted.

“I want you to hurry up and decide if you’re going to fuck me or kill me before my sorority sisters get back Choso!”

Choso smirked under the mask.

Becoming a killer turned you into a bit of a brat.

But he knew how to handle you.

Heh, fair enough.

Driving the knife into the staircase behind your head he pulls you up, swapping positions and seating you on his thigh.

He pulls his soiled track jacket off of you and you shiver as the cold air hits your back.

“Mm, Fuck me Choso”

You sighed longingly, arms encircling his neck.

“Mm, Should I though?”

Choso questions out loud as you melt deeper into him from his hands roaming your body.

One settles on your hip under the band of your thong and the other peels you back by your hair so Choso can see your eyes blown out fully with lust.

“Or should I make you wait like I’ve been waiting ever since you first stumbled into class in that slutty green skirt?”

You cried out and our tongue lolled out of your mouth when he yanked your panties roughly by the front, pulling the material between your pussy lips.

Your clit was cradled in the steamy fabric and you clutched the front of his robes for stability as your eyes rolled back.

“Do you know how much you made me suffer thinking about that pretty pussy of yours? How many times I fisted my cock? How much blood I spilled to forget the way you looked in those slutty outfits?”

Choso's own desire was apparent in his raspy voice.

You shake your head and tears spill as he pulls the fabric tighter over your clit.

“I-I w-wanted you too” you sniffled out.

“Then prove it.” Choso breathed out huskily.

“I want that needy cunt of yours to beg me by fucking herself real nice on my thigh like she did on your mattress earlier.”

You could have combusted as he admitted he had in fact been watching you from your closet but you couldn’t help but obey his orders.

The frantic way your heart pounded in your chest couldn’t trump the unbearable arousal between your legs.

You braced yourself on his shoulders as you began to rock your hips on him.

“That’s it baby.”

Choso encouraged you as you heard a loud rip and realized he had cut away your thong when you felt him snatch the material right off of you.

Your plump pussy lips parted when pressed onto his thigh and you felt the rough material of his heavy robes directly chafing against your clit.

Surrendering to pleasure you circled your hips to grind down on him as Choso started bouncing you on his leg.

The impact of your weight forcing your clit down while his thigh pushed up into you shaking.

“S-shiiiit D-daddy!”

You cried out arching back.

Choso could have busted in his pants completely untouched when he heard you call him daddy.

You didn’t know how much you had him wrapped around your perfectly manicured fingers.

He would kill every single one of those bastard frat fucks on campus on a whim if you asked him to.

He would do anything for you.

Choso's muscular thigh flexing underneath your cunt felt amazing but your hole was screaming to be filled as it gaped around the phantom thought of his cock penetrating you.

“N-Need more. S’not enough Daddy”

You beg, whining into the mouth opening of his mask.

Your breath enters through the material as your hot tongue presses against the cloth barrier hungrily.

His own tongue responds in kind, entangling with yours through his mask and you moan deeper into the opening.

You feel so good yet are still frustrated that you were naked while you couldn’t even see a sliver of skin from him still in his full Ghostface attire.

You move to lift up his mask when he stops you, breaking the makeshift kiss.

“Now, now Y/N.”

Choso playfully chides.

“Can you think of nothing but my dick? You’ve forgotten so quickly this is still a crime scene?”

You panted as you looked over your shoulder and spot the gruesome remains of Dean’s lifeless body and half bashed in face. Blood stained the foyer rug and pieces of tissue splattered on curtains, walls and even the fake plants.

Right.

You still had no idea what you were going to do about that situation but Dean was already dead. He wasn’t going anywhere.

Honestly you felt as if you might die as well if you couldn’t get Choso’s dick inside of you soon.

Your hips never stopped grinding down on his thigh as you returned your attention to him.

You knew if Choso couldn’t even kiss you, he couldn’t fuck you either as those same rules applied to both potential sources of DNA.

“S’fine.” You pout.

“I-I had your jacket, y-your DNA could c-come from that.”

Your injured hand came to cup the slide of his masked face and your other rubbed the outline of cock over his jeans, feeling the precum soil through them despite the thickness of the fabric.

Blood from your hand smeared onto the pristine white Ghostface mask as you pulled your foreheads to touch.

“I’ll admit Dean was right, w-we w-were sleeping together...”

Choso chuckled.

“..and get me expelled for sleeping with a student on top of a motive to connect me to your victim?”

He gave your ass harsh smack.

Your cheeks clenched and your panting grew more ragged as you chased your high against him.

“Y/N you gotta think with that sexy little head of yours not that needy little cunt if you really want me to fuck you. I know you’re smart. This should be easy for you.”

You groaned.

Thinking was virtually impossible right now.

You wanted to give up and resort to begging again but Choso calling you smart (something your recently deceased ex never did) and now rubbing your thighs encouragingly, had made you so happy you wanted to make him more proud of you.

You reluctantly stopped your hips, ignoring the fiery ache shooting through in your cunt but you wanted to cum from his cock not his thigh.

You closed your eyes and exhaled a shaky breath.

Focus Y/N, you willed yourself.

Focusing became harder to do though when Choso became impatient and had nuzzled his masked face into your chest.

His mouth latched to your nipple through the black cloth, swirling his tongue and grazing his teeth against your bud causing it to swell.

“Oh!” you smiled sweetly down at him and his abs tightened as he held you closer to him.

“We get rid of the body! Clean up and make sure there's no crime scene to be found!”

“That’s correct,” Choso praised you as if you answered a question in class correctly.

“Now, most importantly, how exactly will we get rid of the body, Y/N?”

“We…w-we..”

Your fingertips grazed your lips and you bit a nail as you pensively considered your options.

You looked like you were thinking so hard on this.

So fucking cute.

“Come on baby, tell me.”

Choso was the one begging you now while he lifted your hips just enough to pull up his robes and position you to straddle his dick straining against his jeans.

You were so close to the answer. He knew it would come to you and he wanted to be inside of you as soon as you got it.

You clasped your hands together and gave him one of your pageant winning smiles he grew to love.

“We make a kill room!”

“Smart girl” Choso said as he lifted his mask and his lips came crashing down on yours.

☠

“Shit-Shit-Shit!”

You cried as you lower yourself onto Choso’s cock.

You had begged and pleaded him for this but Choso was so much bigger and longer than you expected.

You never had a problem taking dick before but not only was Choso huge he had 3 rows of top and frenum ladder ball piercings on his long veiny cock that dragged against your gspot when you tried to force him inside you.

You still had about an inch to go and his fat cockhead was already pressing against your cervix.

“Fuck baby you really been keeping all this good pussy from me?”

Choso spread your cheeks to assist you down on his enlarged length but your walls vice gripped his cock preventing him from guiding you down further.

Choso grunted, he was going to cum fast if you didn’t ease up.

Pulling you back, he captured your lips again devouring them as he violently pushed his tongue into your mouth in a sloppy kiss, dominating you completely.

A tremor shot through your cunt as your hips jerked and your legs quivered.

“My slutty girl is so sensitive she came from just kissing?”

Choso teased knowingly pulling back to allow you air and lapping at the drool from the corners of your mouth.

It wasn’t just a kiss.

Without the hindrance of a mask Choso’s kisses felt like he was eating you alive and set your body ablaze.

Your orgasm came with enough intensity to loosen your walls allowing you to finally sink down to the base. However your legs were still vibrating and unable to support you riding him.

You fell forward into the crook of his neck.

“C-can’t D-daddy” you babbled into his neck drooling.

Choso wanted to tease you more. He wanted to goad and praise you enough so you would ride him in earnest until your perfect pretty face sobbed for him to fuck you but time was of the essence now.

You both probably had a good hour and a half left before the cops broke up the party and members of your sorority started heading back.

He needed to finish you quickly and he silently promised to take his time with you later.

Rising up, Choso positioned his arms under your thighs to keep you seated on his cock as he walked up the few steps to reach the landing in the middle of the staircase.

Placing your back carefully against the wall he glides his hands over your sweat and blood laden skin to lift your legs onto his shoulders. His grip settles onto the fat of your ass and he marvels at how his fingers sink into them.

Choso allows you time to get adjusted to the new position as he now held you in a standing mating press.

“Ready?”

You nod and Choso takes that as his greenlight to rigorously fuck you into the wall with such vigor you felt it quaking behind you.

There was no possible way you could have ever been ready for that though and your hands dive into his hair tugging at the roots under his man buns as if you intended to scalp him.

Your reactions fuel his cruel thrusts as Choso greedily drinks your guttural screams into his mouth.

They sound more heavenly than any he had heard before even from his own victims.

Slamming you down on his cock, Choso manhandled you like you weighed nothing to him.

His piercings and engorged veins continue to scrape the walls of your core with every stroke as you gush around him soaking his robes.

Choso wanted more of you.

He didn’t think he would ever get enough.

You felt so fucking good he could fuck you like this for hours and he cursed the dwindling time he had before he needed to remove himself from the warm comfort of your mushy cunt.

The hallway echoed with sounds of his hips sadistically ramming your body further into the wall as well as the sloshy vulgar noises his cock tore from your tight creamy cunt.

“S-so c-lose Cho–”

Were the only words you could croak out as your cries become lodged in your throat.

The pleasure you received being folded between Choso and the wall had you salivating like crazy. Drool was pooling in your mouth faster than it could dribble out down the sides.

You locked eyes with him.

The wild glint in them was so primordially feral you can’t believe you ever mistook the restraint he tried to maintain around you for shyness.

Frankly, there was nothing timid about him.

The cold confidence of a true killer radiated off of him and into your core as each of his thrusts felt like they were stabbing into your womb.

Your whines turned into horse croaks as you desperately gasped for air.

Like a killer he showed you no mercy as his long cock shifted your guts up and into your lungs.

Choso was quite literally murdering your cunt.

“Yeah Y/N? Is my girl gonna cum all pretty like on this dick?”

Too cockdrunk to reply, your pussy readily spoke up for you as your walls clenched and spasmed. White stars flood your vision as your body vibrates against him as you cum hard, gurgling his name.

Choso’s hips stuttered and his moans increased as he fucked you through your orgasm and chased his own.

He knew better than to cum inside you, he wasn’t wearing a condom and didn’t even know if you were on birth control.

But your cunt was like a drug to him so Choso resigned himself to cleaning you up after as he gave one last thrust, injecting you with his hot seed that scorched your insides and sent you spasming all over again.

It took a few minutes for Choso to catch his breath but he gently released your legs down to touch the floor as he pulled out of you.

You groaned immediately at the loss after being so full as you still tried to regain your own steady breaths.

Not missing a beat, Choso moved with reverence as if he was worshiping your form from the kisses he peppered down your chest and belly.

“Eyes on me baby,”

Choso ordered, glancing up at you.

You nodded your breath hitching once he reached below your belly button and he threw one of your legs over his shoulder again.

He shamelessly breathed in the scent of sex wafting off your pussy.

The musky mixture of his cum and your juices combined with sweat and blood entered his nostrils and sent his eyes rolling back into his skull.

You shuddered.

You wanted to feel his mouth on you more than anything but you knew you couldn’t both remain like this in the open hallway for much longer.

Seemingly forgetting all concerns of time, Choso’s thumbs lightly ghost over your battered pussy lips as he slowly peeled back the slippery folds.

His chest swoll with pride seeing how much of his cum you had taken inside of you.

Choso's tongue salaciously darted out to catch the drippings that seeped out of your messy little cunt.

Despite your concerns, you can’t resist bucking up towards his face as he brought your hips off the wall towards him.

“Be patient princess, let me enjoy this.”

Choso open handedly spanks your pussy, landing a direct hit on your clit which has you shaking as your squirt spritz onto his face.

His thick tongue rolls out of his mouth like a man starved licking his lips at the feast before him

“Goddamn, I already love her so much”

He cooed into your cunt while looking up at you with puppy dog eyes.

“Go out with me, yeah Y/N? I’ll treat her right. Just let me have a taste of her everyday.”

You almost came on his face again from the utter display of depravity he was showing you, not missing the fact he was so pussy drunk he was technically asking your cunt to be his girlfriend instead of you.

To be fair you were both way past the point where he needed to ask you out anyway as he was an accomplice to your homicide and soon-to-be cover up.

“Okay Choso, I’ll be your girlfriend,”

You grinned at him.

Choso thanked you by gently placing a kiss on your clit before nose-diving into your folds like a mad man between your legs.

Seeing how sensitive you are it wasn't long before he had you thrashing on his lips from the nasty way he heartily ate your cunt out.

The suckling, bubbling and squeaking sounds of him inhaling your pussy nearly had you at your peak again.

Yet you were snapped out of your pleasure when you heard the grandfather clock in the hall ring signaling it was midnight.

Fuck what if the party got broken up earlier than expected?

“W-we don’t have time for this Choso.” You plead anxiously as you pry his head out of from between your legs.

The sounds of the clock chiming and the sight of Dean’s body still laying in the entryway made you more nervous with every passing minute it remained there.

His eyes narrowed dangerously on you as he nuzzled his nose back into your cunt hooking it under your clitoral hood.

“Oh? My sweet girl gets one kill and thinks she knows better than me what we have time for?”

His expression dares you to pull him away again as he drags the flat of his tongue lazily over your clit.

“Please Choso…”

Choso relents as he feels you tense up more, he wouldn't be able to enjoy himself unless you were.

“You trust me right Y/N?”

“Yes”

You breathe out as his fingers play with your puffed pussy lips.

“Do you have the key to the basement?”

You nod.

“And you know exactly where the supply closet is, baby?”

You nod again.

“Perfect. This won't take long at all then.”

Choso assures you as his confident words calm your worries.

“So now just relax princess and let me take care of you. This isn’t my first clean up job babe…”

You weren’t sure if Choso was talking about your cunt or the dead body, but you didn’t doubt he was experienced in both.

“Give me 15 minutes to see how many times I can make you squirt on my tongue. Then we can finally make that dexter kill room you like so much, yeah?”

You nodded once more and Choso wasted no time drowning his face back into your cunt.

You sighed contently.

He was already the best boyfriend you ever had.

© ʙʟᴋᴋɪᴢᴢᴀᴛ 2023. ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛꜱ ʀᴇꜱᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ. ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ꜱᴛᴇᴀʟ, ᴛʀᴀɴꜱʟᴀᴛᴇ, ᴄᴏᴘʏ ᴏʀ ᴄʜᴀɴɢᴇ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇꜱ ꜰɪᴄꜱ, ᴅʀᴀʙʙʟᴇꜱ, & ɢʀᴀᴘʜɪᴄꜱ. ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴀʀᴇ ᴀʟʟ ᴍᴀᴅᴇ ʙʏ ᴍᴇ ᴜɴʟᴇꜱꜱ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀᴡɪꜱᴇ ꜱᴛᴀᴛᴇᴅ. ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ

A/N: How was that? Did I do our emo kang justice? Lmk! (y'all better lmk cause y'all busted my balls for days over this lmfaoooo)

Also ding dong Dean is DEAD thank fuck. Whew I made that man as horrible as possible so you could kill him. Tbh, I would kill a nigga just for pouring Milwakees in my hair alone, that shit smells and tastes like cat piss lol.

Also here if y'all wanna see a cute lil pixivi I made of me bimbo!reader x Ghostface!Choso.

You know the original idea for this was actually based on a fic I was writing where Choso, Yuji and Sukuna (all brothers) all transfer to your university and bimbo!reader (no bf this time) clearly likes Choso but his oblivious emo ass has no idea and keeps being a dick to you cause he thinks you are just making fun of him. LOL! I may in the future still end up writing a version for that since this ended up going in a completely different direction with Ghostface thrown into the mix.

Y'all this fic was way too fuckin long. I know theres likely errors/redundancies still so I will comb through it later and I may edit/reword somethings too but general content will stay the same. Tbh, what took so long is the last scene cause I decided I cannot write a smut fic with Choso where that man isn't acting completely deranged and unhinged over the taste of pussy. He's munch, he can't help it.

Reblog for Ghostface!Choso to be your personal munch, but likes and comments are appreciated all the same!

Next up on Kizzatober, Werewolf!Toji from Thrilling Ghouls! (PWP)

ღTaglistღ: @callm3senpaii @arxliana @jujutsualy @luxiethefairy @akaza-simp01 @fredswh0re @missphanosaur18 @moon-esque @samicamy-13 @strvqtt @wisteriaflowersss @spookyy-gracee @jujutsualy @anakalana @crying-person @missphanosaur18 @jazzmynerule @megatqistina @trobed1312 @mimiemie @insomninaz @bloodysweetcat @cyyberm00n @nikkitc0703 @briefrebelfanalmond (so sorry if I missed anyone but I'm delirious rn forgive me ily)

2K notes · View notes

kittenintheden · 2 months

Text

Ethics Review

Dave Matthews voice: I DID IT

Tav (reader) and Astarion pay his old office at the Courts a visit in the middle of the night for funsies and things get spicy.

aka it's the switchy bitchy magistrate roleplay fic

Rating: E Word Count: 5.2k Pairing: Astarion/reader (Tav) Content: 18+, light BDSM elements, sexual roleplay, bitches be switches, dirty talk, spanking, orgasm denial, light edgeplay, oral sex, PIV sex (AFAB reader, not gendered)

AO3 Link

It’s late, but then, it’s always late when you’re out with Astarion these days. By necessity, mostly, but also because it’s the best time for the pair of you to get up to your more unsavory plans without catching the watchful eye of the newly-reformed Fist.

“Where are you taking me?” you laugh as you follow him through a series of dark alleys. “This better not end with me having to send for Gale to get your hand out of another magicked jar.”

“Never going to let me live that down, are you?” He looks over his shoulder and gives you an affectionate smirk.

“Not ever.”

Astarion peers around the corner of a brown brick building, checking that the coast is clear. To you, he says, “You’re lucky I’m such a kind and forgiving soul.”

“Ah, yes,” you agree, wrapping your arms around him from behind and nuzzling his neck. “Two of your most obvious and accurate qualities.”

He chuckles. “We’re almost there. Come on.”

A labyrinthine dozen alleyways later, you’re deposited in an open square, quiet and still. The cobblestones are dark with recent rain, sending their petrichor scent into the air. As you follow Astarion out into the space, you realize where you are. It’s the Courthouse District of the Lower City, where people are tried and held for petty crimes that aren’t suitable for Wyrm’s Rock.

You huff a laugh through your nose and look over at your partner with a raised eyebrow. “Did you need to tell me something? Have a court date you forgot to mention?”

“Hush,” he playfully scolds you, holding a finger up to his lips. “Let me think a moment.”

He peers up at a particular building on the square and furrows his brow, closing his eyes and moving his hands through the air. You fold your arms and watch as he moves his fingers like he’s following a path only he can see, turning corners and raising level by level. At last, he opens his eyes, and points at window on the third floor, two in from the corner.

“That one,” he says.

“That one what?” you prompt.

He grins devilishly. “That…” he points again. “... is my old office. I thought we might pay it a visit.”

“To what end?” you laugh.

“What can I say, I’m feeling a touch nostalgic these days.” He keeps his eye on the window and beckons you to follow closer to the building. “Something about my old haunts is calling to me.”

Behind where he can’t see, you pay him an affectionate smile. In the last year or so since the fall of the Nether Brain, you’ve seen the city rebuilt and gone on your fair share of adventures and quests, always searching for some way to give Astarion back the sunlight you promised him. No luck yet, but there have been promising leads here and there. It’s not a lost cause. Not yet.

The last few months in particular have seen certain changes in your lover. The terror and fear he carried for so long clung to him like a shadow, and ever so slowly it’s beginning to lift. His laugh is more present than before, more real. The intimate moments you share are filled with trust and care, even as you get more comfortable pushing a few boundaries here and there.

Most of all, he’s been remembering. Not everything. There are parts of his past forever lost to him, written over by more years of torment than he ever had of life. But there’ve been flashes every now and again of who he used to be. Some of them he likes, some he loathes. He doesn’t always talk about it, but you know being able to pick up a piece once in a while has meant a great deal to him.

So you follow along with whatever little game he has planned.

He walks along the building, scanning the brick for footholds. Just as he puts his hand on a storm drain and tenses to leap, you halt him with a gentle hand on his shoulder. When he looks back at you, you flick your eyes up toward the window.

“Three up, two in from then end?” you ask.

He nods.

“Allow me, love.”

You hold up your hand and cobalt magic pools in your palm, forming into a sphere. You send it up above you, the arcane eye floating until it finds the correct window before it slips inside. You blink, your own eyes glowing blue as you use your magic to scan the room. It’s certainly an office of some sort.

Astarion takes your hand when you hold it out for him and instantly you’re transported inside the office thanks to a handy little dimensional door spell you picked up on one of your many adventures. You wave away the arcane eye and give Astarion a wink.

He smirks and shakes his head at you. “Take all of the fun out of the thing, why don’t you,” he says through his smile. “Suppose I’ll have to make do with checking that the place isn’t alarmed. Alas.”

The place is, indeed, alarmed. Astarion manages to disarm two common magic wires and one trickier sending stone scattered throughout the room. You reach out through the Weave for any other whispers of magic. Some artifacts and lightly magical office supplies. Nothing worrisome.

Once you’re both satisfied that you won’t end up immediately arrested, Astarion moves to the center of the room, hands clasped behind his back. You’re quiet as he scans the walls, turning in a slow circle as he takes everything in. His fangs flash as he gives a quiet laugh.

“The layout is different, and the color,” he says. “But yes, this is the place.” He furrows his brow slightly and holds out his hands, eyes on the floor. “I… worked here. Me. A magistrate.” His eyes find you and his smile widens. “It was a lie for so much longer than it was a reality. But it was a reality, once upon a time.”

“I’m surprised,” you say, folding your arms and nonchalantly stepping closer. “The way you spoke and dressed when we first met, I thought you must’ve been an Upper City fancy defending-the-powerful type.”

Astarion clicks his tongue at you. “Now, don’t be judgmental. That’s my job.” He waves a hand through the air. “I was quite young in my career, but I was working my way up. All the way to the third floor, thank you.”

You come in to wrap your arms around his waist and lean your head on his shoulder. “I’m proud of you. Genuinely.”

He spreads his fingers over your forearm, pressing his lips to your hair. “Thank you. That’s always nice to hear.” He clears his throat and removes your arms, backing away from you with a toss of his head. “But don’t be too proud. I wasn’t exactly a… what’s the term? Model citizen.”

Astarion begins to walk around the small table with four chairs set in the center of the room.

“Oh?” you say, walking around the other side to mirror him. “Were you terribly corrupt?”

He pauses and tilts his head, shrugging. “‘Terribly’ is such a strong word, isn’t it? Lets just say I may have been known to, ah… sway the odds in my favor.”

You stop and look across the table at him. “What do magistrates even do, exactly? What did you do, specifically?”

“An absolutely stupid amount of paperwork, as I recall,” he says. “At least, I certainly remember hating every scrap that came across the desk. Meting out appropriate punishment for any minor and petty crime you can think of, most of them horrifically boring. But…” He leans over the table and holds up a finger. “... sometimes I got to conduct interviews to determine if crime was worthy of Wyrm’s Rock, and I was very good at getting the verdict I wanted.”

You rather like seeing this side of Astarion. Honest pride, confidence, and authority. The tip of your tongue runs along your bottom lip as you take in your love leaning over that table, dappled in moonlight. Gods, he’s beautiful.

“And how did you do that?” You pop your hip and raise your thumb to your mouth, teasing your lip as you peer up at him through your eyelashes. “Exactly?”

Astarion notices the shift in your demeanor immediately, his own eyes going half-lidded as they track the path of your hand to your mouth. His grin goes predatory and he leans back so he can come around the table to you and pull out the chair.

“Please, darling,” he says, nodding for you to sit. “Let’s talk, you and I.”

You pay him a sultry smile and sink into the chair, which he pushes in under you. Then he walks back around to the other side with his spine straight, hands folded behind his back.

A new game begins.

Astarion rolls out his shoulders as if he’s shedding a coat. When he turns to look at you, he does so down the length of his nose, his hard gaze making it clear that he thinks you beneath him.

You shiver as a thrill runs down your back and attempt to hide it.

He shakes his head above you, tutting. You’ve disappointed him.

Instinctively, you shrink into your chair slightly as he leans forward and places the tips of his fingers against the table in front of him, continuing to lower his face until it’s a mere foot from yours.

“A pathetic display back there,” he says, voice dripping with condescension. “Your associates have hung you out to dry. You do know that…” He tilts his head. “... don’t you?”

You swallow the lump in your throat and drop your eyes. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

“Silly little patsy,” he chides as he straightens to glare down at you again. “Such stars in your eyes for friends who would sooner see you burn than stick their necks out for you.”

“I’m not telling you anything,” you say, raising your eyes to him in defiance even as you let a waver of nerves shake your voice.

“What must it be like to be so tragically misguided?” he sneers. It’s like an echo of a man you once knew. One you met on a sunny beach amid burning wreckage.

You blink up at him, eyes going soft. “I can’t betray them.”

“Betray them,” he breathes, huffing a mirthless laugh as he leans one hand onto a nearby chair. “My dear, they are in the next room, and the room after that, giving you up as we speak. No loyalty among thieves, I fear.”

“No,” you gasp. “They wouldn’t.”

Astarion holds a finger up to his lips, shushing you. “I think you know better than that. But fine, have it your way. Don’t give them up to save your own hide. Let me sweeten the pot.”

He turns his body so he can side-sit on the table and put his first knuckle under your chin, lifting it so he can inspect you. The corner of his mouth ticks up. “Gold to line your pockets, perhaps?”

Though you try to stop it, your body betrays you as a bright blush blooms across your nose and cheeks. Astarion’s pupils dilate above you.

“Or something else entirely?” he whispers, tilting his mouth closer to yours. “I’d much sooner send those two cads to Wyrm’s Rock in your place. Help me, and maybe you and I could have a bit of…” His eyes trail down your jaw, your neck, your collarbone, and beyond before he looks back into your eyes. “... fun in celebration.”

“Why would you do that for me?” you whisper back.

He shrugs. “What can I say? I rather like you. Plus, I might get a little kickback in the form of a promotion for bringing in two thorns in the Fist’s side, but that’s neither here nor there.” He rolls his eyes and pays you a flirtatious smile on the last bit.

And that… is your opening.

Your expression grows serious and you note the moment that Astarion’s eyebrows give the briefest twitch of concern.

"You've overplayed your hand, Magistrate Ancunín," you say.

Astarion draws his hand back and gives you a perplexed look. “Have I?”

You smile, then. Calm and dangerous. "I've been sent by the Board of Ethics, you see."

Astarion is thrown by this turn, but he recovers quickly, offering a simpering smile. "Oh? Oh, dear. Seems I've been caught with my pants down."

You stand, holding his eye. "Indeed. Best go place your hands on the desk where I can see them."

With a flourish, he holds his hands up for you to see. No funny business, none at all. He goes to the desk and spreads his palms flat against the polished wood. He must feel the heat of your skin as you come close, only inches away. Inspecting. Considering.

You lean in close to his ear. "Say our word if you'd like me to stop, Ancunín," you whisper.

"Stop what?" he asks.

In answer, you grab his hips and pull them flush against your own with enough force that he gasps from it, genuinely surprised. In his ear again, you whisper, "Teaching you a lesson."

You release him and move to his side. He turns his head to look at you and you can see the openmouthed surprise in his face, but it’s more than that. Surprised, yes, but also open. Interested. Very turned on. You know this look.

This is Astarion’s “oh, we’re doing that thing I like?” look. It’s a good look on him.

You tap a finger on his nearest hand. “Keep these exactly where they are. I must warn you that you face serious repercussions for witness tampering. I have some questions. Answer them to my satisfaction, and I may consider…” Your gaze trails down to the front of his trousers, which are straining. When you meet his eye again, you add, “... reinstatement.”

Astarion tilts his chin down so he can give you a heated look. “Then by all means,” he says, lips parted. “Ask.”

“Hm,” you hum as you trail your fingers over the desk as you walk around to the other side. You mimic his stance with your hands on the table, though yours is one of authority while his is one of awaiting judgment. He tilts his head at you in question, gaze hot. You match it.

“Let’s start with an easy one.” You tilt your head toward the wall without breaking eye contact. “That placard hanging there. What is it?”

He looks and then huffs through his nose. “It’s an oath.”

You tilt your head the other way. “And what does it say?”

Astarion smirks. “‘As an officer of the Court, I will strive to conduct myself at all times with integrity, dignity, and honor.’”

“That’s right,” you say, nodding. “Now tell me, Ancunín… do you feel you’ve conducted yourself in accordance with that oath?”

“Of course,” he answers without hesitation, flashing you a winning smile. “I offered you the utmost dignity and honor, did I not?”

An idea occurs to you and you imagine he catches the twinkle in your eye as you raise one of your hands to click your fingers, a glowing web of pale blue stretching to cage you both inside. Astarion frowns up at it. The moment he realizes what you’ve done, he gives you a look that’s half-exasperated and half-devious.

“What’s this?” he says, playing along.

“A little insurance policy. To ensure your adherence to honesty.” You reach to the collar of your shirt and undo one button. Then another.

Then another.

Astarion struggles to keep his eyes on your face, but when you lean back down onto the table, he can’t help but sneak a peek.

You toy with another button. “Why don’t you tell me what you think about dignity now?”

Astarion bites the corner of his lip to keep his expression serious. He keeps his eyes trained on your chest and seems to carefully consider his words before he says, “I maintain that I respect the dignity of your tits.”

That’s not what he meant to say. He blinks. His eyes flick up to yours. “Your position,” he amends.

His eyes flick back down. “Your position and your tits.”

“Ah,” you say. “Yes, I thought that might be the case. That you might be… what do they say? Dipping your wick in the law office wax.”

You stand and come back around to his side, maintaining your spell as you do. Astarion tracks you all the way back around.

“I’d like you to be as honest with me as you can be,” you say softly. “Not that you’ve much choice. So, in that case, here’s some extra… motivation.”

You’re behind him now and you hear his sharp intake of breath when he feels your palms spread over either side of his hips before moving around to the ties at the front of his trousers. You loosen them just enough to give you space.

Astarion’s knuckles are going white where he presses his fingers against the desk.

Your fingers are soft and warm against his lower abdomen as they dip below his waistband, then inside his underthings. You find what you seek and grip it firmly, fisting the length of him. He bites back a groan and flexes his hands against the wood as you draw him out into the open air.

“You do keep it cool in here,” you whisper into his ear. You keep your touch light as you tease his cock, just enough to make him want but not nearly enough to satiate the need. “Why is that?”

Astarion swallows and looks at you out of the corner of his eye. “A little discomfort loosens the tongue, I find.” He struggles to keep the breathiness out of his voice and very nearly succeeds.

Nearly.

Your smile is wicked. “I see. Well.”

You rest his hardened length against the varnished wood of the desk. It’s cool on his touch-warmed skin and he whines lightly as you leave him there to walk around to his other side, fingertips drawing a trail across his broad back and shoulders.

“In that case, we’ll be leaving that…” You glance down at his cock, then back at his face. “… out in the cold until you’ve answered my questions to my satisfaction. Understood?”

He takes a deep breath through his nose and meets your eye. “Completely.”

“Good.” You move one of his misplaced curls back into place. “If I’m satisfied, I just might let you warm it up again. We shall see.”

“Indeed we shall,” he says, voice dropping deeper, and you can sense the challenge there. You smile as you turn away from him.

“Let’s try again,” you say. “Do you make a habit of lying to your interviewees in hopes of manipulating a confession?”

“Is ‘lying’ the word we want to use?” he says with a lilt.

“Yes.” You turn back to look at him.

He clears his throat, chewing his tongue to hide another smile before he looks away. He thinks a moment, then says, “I occasionally massage my message to pave the way for a more fruitful discussion in my favor, yes. Only in the interest of this office and my personal satisfaction.” He smirks at you, clearly pleased with himself.

You shake your head. “My, my. And just when I thought we were getting somewhere. Perhaps you need a reminder that I hold your immediate future in my hands?”

When you move back in and loosen his trousers still further to shove down his hips and below his arse, he wriggles to help. He seems to think he’s won this phase of the game. Adorable.

Rather than give him any relief, you reach out to the desk and pick up a wooden ruler, thin and flexible. Astarion opens his mouth, presumably to ask what you’re doing, but doesn’t get the chance as you use the flat of the ruler to give him a quick smack on his bare arse.

He cries out in surprise and looks around at you. You raise an eyebrow at him and give him the opportunity to call his out. Instead, you watch his eyes darken. He’s still in. Which is good, because gods above if you aren’t beginning to make a mess of your underwear already.

“Do you understand your situation?” you ask.

“Maybe you ought to remind me again,” he rumbles.

You do, leaving another slap on his pale skin. A shiver travels up his back from the base of his spine all the way up.

“I understand,” he says.

“Very good,” you say. “Do you manipulate the outcomes of your interviews?”

“Sometimes, yes,” he says quietly, peering up at you from under his brows.

“Thank you for your honesty. With bribery?”

He nods.

You bend forward so you’re eye-to-eye. “And do you frequently offer favors of a sexual nature?”

Astarion’s gaze drops to your mouth and he blinks heavily. “That’s only for when I see someone I like,” he says.

There’s another slap to his arse, quick as reflex, and he gives a small, broken “a-ah” as he drops his head. He spoke the truth, your spell ensures that, but you want him to be more specific. You look down to see he’s subtly grinding himself against the desk, his cock beginning to weep pre-fluid as you watch.

You place the ruler against his back to hold him in place. “None of that,” you say. “Not until you clarify. Why me?”

He groans in frustration. “Because I like you. Because I’m attracted to you. Because I want to be inside you and fuck and fuck and fuck until we’re both hoarse from crying our ecstasy.”

Well. The pair of underwear you’re wearing are officially done for, you fear.

“What a wicked tongue you have,” you breathe, not quite able to keep up your aura of authority. You swallow and add, “Perhaps I’ll consider letting you off with a warning if we can figure out a better use for it.”

Astarion goes to his knees so quickly it makes your head spin. You don’t hesitate to take care of the bindings on your own trousers and he’s eager to help, shoving your clothing to the floor. You’re trying to remove a boot when he presses his face into the crux of your legs and runs his tongue along the seam of you so hotly that you nearly fall over. You lean down and give him another half-hearted smack. All it does is elicit a groan against your most sensitive of places.

With some struggle, you manage to remove the boot, kick your trousers and underthings off of one leg, and hop up to sit on the desk, Astarion follows you along, refusing to let you leave him now that he’s on you. His mouth works against you on its own, tongue lapping firmly at the edges of your cunt, flushing you and making you swell. He hasn’t even touched your clit yet and you know you’re already slick with desire.

You’re so momentarily distracted that you almost miss where his hands have gone.

Chest heaving, you weakly wave to dismiss your Zone of Truth and call up your mage hand, sending it down where you can’t reach to grab the wrist of the hand Astarion’s using to pump his cock while he licks at you.

“I don’t think so,” you gasp. “Still on… probation.”

You’re losing the thread and you’re perfectly okay with it.

Astarion growls in response and comes up higher on his knees, wrapping his arms around your lower back and pulling you tight against his face. His tongue finally finds your center and he rolls it against your entrance, plying the place just inside that makes you go flush with arousal, your clit swelling further. Then he finally pays it attention with a light draw followed by firm circles, teasing until you feel sparkles of arcane energy tingling at your fingertips and zaps of pleasure shoot through your core.

He holds you so tight to him that there’s no escape from the assault of pleasure he’s waging on your body. All too soon, you’re whimpering as you approach your peak.

And Astarion simply stops. He leaves you there, right before the edge, and you cry out in dismay and frustration. Before you realize what’s happening, he’s on his feet and pulling you onto yours, spinning you around until your hips are pressed to the edge of the dark wood. You can feel his rock hard length against the cleft of your arse, feel the wetness at the tip of him against your lower back.

“You’ve overplayed your hand this time, I think,” he pants into your ear. “Let your guard down. What member of the Board of Ethics accepts bribes?”

When you try to wriggle free, you feel his fingers at your wrists. He takes your hands and spreads them on the desk as you’d done to him, bending you over. His hips draw back and then return and you feel his hardness drag over your folds from behind, teasing but not quite putting pressure on your clit.

His breathing is heavy, but through it, he manages, “This time, you tell me the truth. Why did you meet with me?”

“To catch you out,” you gasp. “Your behavior has been… unethical.”

“Is it unethical to recognize when someone wants your cock?” he whispers, sending a tingle over your shoulders. “Is it against my oath to offer?”

“That’s not… I didn’t…”

The head of his cock nudges your clit and you both hiss through your teeth. He pulls back until he catches at your entrance, pushing in just barely. Just enough to begin to feel him, but nowhere near enough of him. Instinctively you arch your back harder, trying to take more, but he won’t let you.

“Beg me,” he growls in your ear. “Beg me for my cock. Tell me it’s why you came here.”

Your very last thread of remaining restraint is pulled to its absolute limit, but it doesn’t break quite yet. “I came here on orders to uncover a magistrate with loose morals,” you manage.

Astarion reaches a hand up to the hair at the back of your head, grabs a handful, and gently pulls to bend your head back. Directly into your ear, he whispers, “You’ve found him. Now beg for it.”

In the quiver of his voice, you can hear that he’s the one begging you.

So you give in.

“I came here for you,” you whisper back. “Please, let me. Let me take your cock.”

His breath shudders out of him. “Take it you shall.”

Astarion thrusts his hips forward, burying himself in you, and you hardly have time to so much as gasp before he sets a punishing rhythm, one arm around your waist to hold you in place and the other one still tangled up in your hair. You arch deeply, giving him as much access as you can, and he pounds into you relentlessly. On the outskirts of your awareness, you feel bruises beginning to form on your hipbones from where they repeatedly hit the desk.

You don’t care one whit.

He keeps you bent over the desk, your palms spread to keep you both upright as he fucks you hard, his moans trapped behind his clenched teeth. As you fly full speed back to your edge, he removes the hand from your head and absently places it over your mouth to muffle your own escalating cries.

The coil of your climax tightens and Astarion begins to mutter a steady mantra of “yes, yes, yes, gods, yes” beside your ear. He presses himself all the way to the hilt and rocks, the base of him stretching you just right and his balls pressed firm to your clit and there, oh there, it’s right-

You scream behind Astarion’s palm as you come, the delicious tension boiling and spilling over as contractions roll through you, pleasure washing over your body with every heartbeat. You nearly blank out for a second and when you blink back down, your lover continues to pump into you as he chases his own end.

With a shaking hand, you call up your mage hand from where it shimmers nearby and press it to his chest, pushing back with soft pressure.

“No,” Astarion whines, attempting one or two more thrusts before you back him up. “No, please, please, I didn’t finish, I-”

You turn, bottomless and eyes full of fuck and revenge, and add your own hands to the mix, all three pushing him back until he hits the deposition table, going flat on his back. You crawl up over him and straddle him, up on your knees just out of reach.

You look down upon him, beautiful and fucked out in the moonlight. “Do you regret any of it?” you say.

“I’m regretting a lot of my decisions at the moment,” he snarks. His lips part as he breathes.

With a smile, you roll your hips just enough to catch the head of his cock back at your opening. “Do you regret any of it?” you repeat.

He pants, looking up at you. Then he reaches up to grip the front of your shirt and pull you down over him in a searing kiss. When you break, he whispers, “No. Not a moment. It brought me to you.”

You roll back, sinking down onto him. He gasps and throws his arms around you, helping you get back into rhythm, and he’s so close that it’s barely any time at all before he arches his back clear up off the table and groans as he spills inside of you, the relief painted across every inch of his face. He comes for nearly a minute, twitching and humming beneath you until he finally relaxes into a boneless heap.

When he next opens his eyes, you lean down and catch him in another kiss.

The pair of you have barely redressed and cast a few prestidigitation cantrips as a courtesy before there’s a sound somewhere down the hall. Footsteps. Coming closer.

“Shit,” Astarion whispers, startled. He grabs your hand and spins you both into a dim corner of the room before you both cast Invisibility. Just in the nick of time, it appears, because there’s a jangle of keys and then a harried-looking halfling comes bustling into the room, dark bags under their eyes.

They grumble to themselves for a moment, going to a box to sort through files. They don’t find what they’re looking for and move on to the desk. Once there, they open a drawer, then wrinkle their nose.

“Bleeding hells, it smells like sex in here,” they grumble. “Gonna tell Jackobson that Cole has been using his office again. Teach that arsehole for making me come fetch the file he forgot.”

The halfling pulls a file from the drawer, slams it, and exits the room.

Neither of you move for the rest of the minute your invisibility lasts. As soon as the cloaking spell fades, you both collapse to the floor in quiet giggles. You kiss Astarion through your laughter, again and again.

It’s nice to see this side of him.

#astarion #astarion bg3 #astarion smut #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #tavstarion #kitten writes

779 notes · View notes

aetherdoesthings · 6 days

Note

did you see the arlecchino animation and teaser??? a;fasjl;f

they make me so sad :(( also, the teaser was hot af tho, had me so downbad. arlecchino's lore is just so 😭

~EL anon

would you like new toys?

i simped so hard during the animation and teaser i decided to write a mini series fic about arlecchino. i have a lot of thoughts about it and now i'm regretting not taking up your offer lmao

forethoughts: my love language is writing someone an entire fic about them (not really, but i will write you an entire letter).

notes: fem!reader in mind, but gn!. NOT AN x READER!! READER IS A CHILD IN THIS!

In every cluster of children, there was always one that had trouble making friends.

That title was unfortunately bestowed upon you.

Always excluded in activities and games, left to play in the corner with the leftover, worn out toys while everyone chose the newest and best toys in the box. It had always been that way; you didn’t see it changing any time.

Father was always more lenient and caring with you. She made sure you were the first in line to get breakfast, lunch and dinner. While everyone had a curfew, you were allowed to wander the halls freely and exit your room. That of course didn’t make it any easier for you to make friends.

Like a robot given the same set of codes and no changes, days blurred into weeks, and weeks blurred into months while you lived your solitary life.

You sat crossed leg, facing the corner of the playroom, hands empty. You ran out of luck; all the toys were already gone by the time you got to the box. Letting out a sigh, boredom finally consumed you, prompting you to stand up, brush the dust off your shorts as you exited the playroom. No one batted an eye or even glanced at your direction; to them you were invisible. To everyone you were invisible.

Wandering the halls of the House of Hearth at night gave you a pretty good scope on the architecture of the building. If someone asked you where the infirmary was or the bathroom, you could accurately pinpoint the location for them. You looked at the colorful glass panes on the sides of the halls, raising a hand to block the sunlight from hitting your face. They called you a dreamer, delusional for your ideas and thoughts. Said your hopes were far too high. Father always disagreed. Father always disagreed with whatever the others called you.

A sudden shriek was ripped out of your throat as your body went sideways, shoulder hitting an even stone ground. You winced, forcing yourself to sit as you examined your body. You could barely make out what was your leg and arm with the lighting. Standing up, you decided to explore the uncharted territory in your little mind map. The walls were lined with sharp blades that glimmered under the narrow light source opposite to the swords. You looked behind you, to your sides, in front of you, as you allowed curiosity to take hold of your mind. With two hands, you lifted one of the blades from its holding place, letting it fall onto the ground. You dragged the blade along the stone to the center of the room, ignoring the shriek of protest the sword was making. Letting out a deep breath, you gripped your hands around the hilt of the sword, lifting it as high as you could. When you’d finally lift it over your head, a triumphant cheer exited your mouth, eyes admiring the shine and sharpness of the blade like a bee eyeing a flower.

“Children like you should not be wielding such dangerous objects.” Your muscles went limp, bones turning into uncooked noodles as your head spun to the direction of the voice. Father. Fear wasn’t just done with taking hold of your body. Fear was transmitted into the blade itself. Before you knew it, a sharp pain emitted through your forehead, a rush of warmness surging towards the area. The sword fell on your side, next to your collapsed body.

“Y/N!” Father was instantly by your side. Through that cold and emotionless facade, you could see a flash of worry and fear in her eyes. Fear. Father felt fear. Your head was placed in Father’s arms, knees hooked onto her other arm as you were rushed out of the dark room.

You sat on Father’s table in silence, fiddling with the sleeve of your shirt as you stared at your dirt covered, bruised hands. Father reciprocated the silence, as she stood in front of you, using a cotton ball to dab up the blood. You winced at the serum that was infused with the cotton against your fresh wound, knuckles turning white. Father didn’t let out any remark at your wince, rather you could feel her actions becoming more gentle and tender.

“This might hurt.” Father muttered, picking up something from her tray of material, the object having a thin string tail behind. You could barely stifle a shriek as the needle penetrates your skin, the lithe object dancing from one side to another, piercing hole after hole in your skin. You gripped onto your sleeve for life until your hand was ghost white, as Father stitched up your wound before you could blink. Father let out a sigh, snipping any remaining string as she set the needle on the tray. Her eyes shifted downwards, her lips pursed as you felt her gaze burning into your skull.

“...I’m sorry.” You murmured quietly, the words regurgitating out of your mouth, unable to squeeze anything out under her gaze.

“I thought I told you that recklessness always leads to failure. What were you doing out of the playroom?”

“...” You could feel the corners of your eyes starting to burn up, your mouth quivering. Father noticed. Of course she did.

“Look at me.” Father sighed.

Reluctantly, you lifted your head, meeting Father’s eyes. Instead of scorn and disappointment, you were met with understanding and warmth, her pursed lips turning into a thin smile. Thin. Just like the ice you were on. Father could smile all she wanted, but you knew you were as good as dead.

Father’s hand went for your head, sharp fingers combing through your hair. “What type of toy do you like, Y/N? I am planning to get more for the toybox; it appears we have a shortage of toys. Of course, I would like to get the best and newest toys for all. I was wondering what you would like to see and play with.”

Your heart moved an inch higher from your stomach, still threatening to fall and combust into millions of pieces. “U-Uhm… I d-don’t know…”

“Speak up, my child.”

“I-I don’t know… what toys I like, Father…”

Father let out a chuckle. “Of course. How could you choose your favorite in an empty box?”

You looked down at her words. Of course Father knew.

“Y/N.”

You looked back up at her, meeting her playful eyes, a look you knew she only gave you and you only.

“How about I introduce you to some… new toys not any of the other children have seen? Would you like some new toys?”

“Toys… the others haven’t seen?” You tilt your head at that statement.

“Yes. Toys the others have not seen. Are you interested? I will personally teach you how to… play with these toys.”

You nodded your head, a small hesitant smile on your face. Father never offered the other children new toys. Father never offered how to play with toys. Father never played with the others.

The corners of Father’s thin lips tugged upwards slightly, as her finger hovered over your wound. She helped you off the desk, hand holding yours as she led you out of her office. “It is almost time for lunch. But I would rather you get some rest after what happened. Rest assured I will bring food to your room.”

“Y-Yes, Father.” You mumbled.

Father led you to your room upstairs, setting you on the plush mattress as the blanket was draped over your body. She ran her fingers through your hair again, petting your head before strolling out of the room. “Rest well, my child.”

Arlecchino closed the door, letting out a sigh. She made her way back downstairs to join the other children. “Rest assured, my child, no one will ever dare to lay a finger on you anymore. No harm shall ever come your way.”

#genshin impact #arlecchino #house of hearth #arlecchino x reader #the x reader tag is only for wider reach this is not an x reader #arlecchino genshin #the knave #my child #aetherwrites

181 notes · View notes

vanwritesfan-fiction · 6 months

Text

Truth or Dare

Kinktober Day Two Prompt: Pool/Hot Tub

A Jack Harlow x Reader Fic

Warnings: Smut, Language

"I'm not getting in the water." Jack looked at you as he took a sip from the Perrier bottle he had in his grip. "Ok, that's fine." You were spending one more night in the house you rented while Jack was working in LA, the plan just to hang out and order some food. You quickly got bored and suggested a quick dip in the pool before bed, but Jack adamantly declined to join you.

"I mean it. I don't like swimming." You shed your swimsuit cover up, tossing it on one of the lounge chairs off to the side. You adjusted the straps of your bikini, making sure Jack had a perfect view of the way your breasts spilled out of the top. "I heard you the first time, babe." He groaned, running his fingers through his beard, as you adjusted your bottoms higher to show more of your ass.

You carefully took the steps into the water, Jack watching you as you swam to the middle of the pool. "The most I'll do is put my feet in." You chuckled as he sat on the edge, dangling his long legs into the water. You leaned back, arching your back as you floated in the water, looking up at the night sky.

You swam over to him, resting your arms over the side. "Is it 'cause you can't swim?", you asked, toying with him. Jack rolled his eyes, taking the last sip from the bottle. "You know damn well I can swim, girl."

Ah, gotcha. So you're just scared." You pushed away from the edge, a sly grin on your face. Jack rolled his shoulders back, his ego taking a quick hit. You were trying to get to him, anything to make him cave, but it wasn't gonna work. "You're cute." He wagged a finger at you, pushing himself to stand back up. You whined as he started to walk back inside. "Jack, I was just kidding. Stay, please?"

He threw a thumb over his shoulder, gesturing to the house. "Why don't you come inside, I'll have that thing you call a bikini off of you in two seconds flat." Warmth pooled in your stomach at the thought as you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth.

"How about this? Let's play a game", you suggested, "Truth or Dare". Jack raised his eyebrows in intrigue. "Okay, I'm in, but every truth you don't answer, you take off a piece of clothing, we don't need to worry about any dares." He flashed his pearly whites, well aware this game wasn't starting off fair, but you were desperate, and willing to play along.

"Fine, same for you though. You go first." you remarked, agreeing to his terms. Jack teetered over the edge of the pool. "Ok, did Urban like me when we first started dating?" You narrowed your eyes at him, waiting for his response. Jack pulled his t-shirt off over his head, exposing his toned chest, his biceps flexing as he stretched. "Wow, remind me to have a conversation with Urban when we get back to Louisville", you scoffed.

"Alright, your turn, since we're talking about first impressions. What does your dad think of me?" Jack knew your dad wasn't his biggest fan and that was putting it lightly. You pulled the strings of your bikini bottom, placing it on the concrete.

"I knew it! He hates me." Jack scowled.

"Ok, am I the first girl you've ever told "I love you" to?" You raked your hair out of your face. Jack placed his hands at his hips, shifting his weight back and forth on his feet. You were sure he was going to take off another piece of clothing to avoid answering the question.

"Uh, no", he scratched at the back of his neck, "but you're the first one I've truly meant it with." He was slow to look at you, holding his breath. You felt yourself blush at his answer, quickly realizing you didn't want to play games anymore.

With one hand you untied your bikini top, allowing it float away in the water.

"Its not even your turn. What are you doing?" Jack questioned, adjusting himself as he made out your naked body under the water.

"You have five seconds to get in the water, Jackman."

Jack shed his shorts before jumping into the deep end, making you giggle when the water splashed you. It went quiet for a minute before you felt something grab at your leg, a shriek leaving your mouth.

"Don't do that!" You slapped Jack's chest as he emerged from the water, his curls plastered to his forehead. "Who's scared now?", he playfully pinched at your hips, making you squirm.

"Still you", you responded as you wrapped your arms around his neck, his hands palming your ass to keep you afloat. "Did you really mean that? Am I the first girl that you've really loved?" You pushed his hair out of his face, his blue eyes radiant in the pool lighting. "No, I just said that to get you naked. It was really easy." He let out a deep chuckle, as he wrapped you in his arms, gently pushing you up against the wall.

Your lips crashed with his, the kiss desperate and hungry, your hands finding his wet curls as your ankles hooked around his waist. Jack's hands roamed your body, sliding between your thighs. You moaned against his mouth as he pushed his fingers through your folds, a single digit teasing your entrance. The feeling of his fingers filling you up made you gasp, a squeal leaving your lips as he slowly thrusted in and out of your core, your toes curling with each movement.

"Fuck, Jack." You threw your head back as he continued finger fucking you, his lips curling around one of your nipples, budding against the cool LA air.

You were already clenching down around his hand when he pulled out of you, grabbing at his erect length to replace his hands. You scrambled to get your footing, slipping against the wet tile. "I can't reach the bottom", you edged out against his mouth, trying to touch the bottom of the pool so you could stand. "It's fine, I gotcha." Jack responded quickly, lifting you so you could lay your forearms on the edge of the pool.

"You have to be quiet, baby", Jack warned, earning a frantic nod from you. You pulled your bottom lip in between your teeth to stop your moans as he slowly entered your throbbing pussy, water splashing around you as he set a pace with his hips that had you gasping for air. "Fuck, Jack", you whined out, holding onto his shoulders to steady yourself, your arms and legs already starting fatigue from the position he held you in.

He rested his forehead against your chest, panting as he continued to drive into you, his hands at your hips forcing you to meet him with each snap of his hips. He quickly felt his orgasm start to build, and you were right behind him, the coil in your stomach tightening as your legs went numb.

"Shit, I'm so fuckin' close, babe." You moaned out, holding Jack tighter against your chest. He had you suspended in the water, your back arching against the edge of the pool. "Fuck, let go, baby." His words of encouragement sent you over the edge, your walls fluttering around his cock as Jack continued to thrust, following closely behind you with his own orgasm. He hips staggered as he came inside of you, stopping to catch his breath as you stroked his hair.

Jack pressed a kiss between your breasts before trailing up to meet your mouth, pulling your bottom lip between his teeth as he kissed you lazily, exhaustion evident in his movements.

"You know I was just joking about Urban not liking you, he's always liked you." Jack handed you your bikini top as it floated past him, moving to the edge to push himself out of the water. "I was not joking about my dad not liking you." Jack's face dropped at your words, but he tried to hide it behind his t-shirt as he dried his face. "I'm just kidding, babe. He loves you."

Jack landed a hard smack on your bare ass, making you jump as you ran into the house. "Really not funny, babe."

Tag-List:

@jacks-daycare

@livsters

@katiaw2

@xangelonmyshoulderx

@thatonegirlthatlikesthings

@j0hkiya

@bell3e

@isisosidixj

@caroline334

@lightsoutstyles

@hufflewhore128

@jackscurlyhair

@jackharloww

@brixo

@beautiifulpeople312

@bernelflo

@taniapri

@ageofthebarbarians

@honeyharlows

@aga21

@iheartharlow

@neon-lights-and-glitter

@w1ldthoughts

@jackslilsecrett

@harlowcomehome

@fantasywritersstuff

@exoticr0ses

@iknowdatsrightbih

@itsyagirljaz

@hoodharlow

@bobthe-turmpetman29

@wittyjasontodd

@purecinnamonextract

@fluidsentiment

@comehomeimissyou

#jack harlow #jackman thomas harlow #jackharlow #jackman harlow #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow concepts #jack harlow imagine #jack harlow fanfic #jack harlow smut #jack harlow fic #jack harlow x you #jack harlow fanfiction

330 notes · View notes

huggybearluvr · 2 months

Note

hey!

Can I request a fic with Daswon Mercer ? Like any storylien you want.

only mine || dm91

summary: Yours and Dawson's relationship has never been defined or public. However, after Sebastian Aho starts chirping yours brothers using you as the target, Dawson can't help but defend his girl.

warnings: mentions of a fight (not much detail), slut shaming? kinda not really

Masterlist

You knew there was a possibility of a fight tonight. Your brother Jack, had fought Sebastian just last season in the playoffs. However, you did not expect to see Dawson standing over the hurricanes player.

The game was going pretty smoothly both teams playing equally well, the score was 0-0 half way through the second.

Your breathe hitched watching as Aho poked the puck away from Bratt taking it down the devils end for a one on one with Daws.

The net hit the back of net earning many boos from the crowd. However, your eyes were fixaited on him as he skated over to your brothers. You couldn't hear what he said but by the angered look on your brothers faces it wasn't good.

You watched as Dawson immediately turned around, pushing your brothers back, as he flung off his gloves. Aho followed however, did not get a single hit off, as Dawson knocked him to the ground and continued his attack.

It wasn't until Nico and Jack ripped Dawson off of him that the fight was over. Dawson was ejected from the game slinging out some harsh threats you couldn't hear past the ice, breaking a stick, and leaving the ice.

You immediately got up heading to the locker room.

You flashed your badge and I.D at the security guard making your way to the locker room.

You gently knocked on the door wanting to make sure Dawson was alone before you entered.

"What." Dawsons aid angrily before he turned around seeing you, his eyes immediately softened. His arms opened, inviting you in. You hesitated for second standing at the door, "Baby please, need you right now."

He gave you a pleading look. You stepped forward into his arms as they wrapped tightly around you.

"You know your my girl right?" He whispered into your ear, "I want you to be my girl, no one else's."

You pulled back untucking your head from his chest to look at him, you gave him a soft smile, kissing his lips," I know Daws, I know."

"Now, tell me what happened?" You asked giving him a pleading look.

"Fucking Aho," He said shaking his head recalling his words," He was chirping your brothers but when he brought you into it I kinda lost it," He admitted knowing that it wasn't the best idea he's had in awhile.

"What did he say?" You asked curiously.

"He said he was gonna take you for a spin next and he was sure you'd slut yourself out to any guy in the league."

Your eyes rolled, "Well I'm sure he learned his lesson."

Dawson let out a soft chuckle, leaning down meeting your lips once more," That's my girl."

"Only your's Daws, only your's," You smiled up at him.

--------

Inbox is open! request prompts are in navigation!

#dawson mercer #dawson mercer imagine #dawson mercer x reader #dawson mercer fic #devils lb #njd insta edit #nj devils

213 notes · View notes

taylorsburner · 4 months

Text

K.I.S.S.I.N.G

✧Summary✧ An unexpected treehouse date turns into an unexpected meeting with Conrad's younger brother

a/n: first Conrad fic over here! something cute and fluffy so I hope y'all like it🫶🏾

How exactly you ended up in Conrads treehouse, you couldn’t exactly pinpoint. All you knew is that in one of your nightly FaceTime chats over Thanksgiving break, Conrad had managed to somehow persuade you to fly back home with him have a little more time together at his house before you went home and didn’t see each other for a whole month. He even went as far as to come prepared with flight prices, times and anything else that would be needed to convince you. Including the justification of “My brother and dad aren’t going to be there for a few days. Do you want me to be all by myself at home?” with a little pout (a pout that he knew you couldn’t say no to) at the end to sweeten it up.

And to his surprise, and yours to be completely honest, you agreed to this little plan of his. You were going to miss him when you went home after all. Plus, you lived on the east coast too so it wouldn’t be that much out of your way, and even though you missed your family, it’s not like you were in a complete rush to get home. And you hadn’t bought your tickets at that point anyway so this in and of itself forced you to get that done.

Fast forward a couple of weeks and too many exams later and here you were, standing in the hideout Conrad claimed as his growing up.

“What am I in the girlfriends that have been up here roster?” You joke, looking through the bin of action figures in the cubbies against the wall.

“Number one actually.” Conrad honestly replies. He’d brought a girl home before, but never up to the treehouse.

“Really?” You ask turning back in his direction, not fully behind the idea of you being the first girl he chose to bring up here.

“Mhm.” He hums in response, a proud little smile threatening to break through in the process.

“Well I’m honored.” You proudly return, going back to looking at the relics of his childhood. On the outside, you were calm and collected, happily looking around. On the inside though, there were a million butterflies swarming your stomach and a pleasant warmth spreading through your body. Not that it really mattered, but hearing that you were the first girl he’d brought up here made you feel a little special. He showed you in other ways how much you meant to him of course, but being welcomed into a special space of his was just a nice cherry on top.

“This is too cute!” You gush, taking in all of the very Conrad touches around the space.

“My dad built it for my brother and I, but once Jere was no longer interested I made it my own hideout.” Conrad further explains, deciding to take a seat on the floor against the wall, focusing all of his attention on you.

“Well all of this is very you, very Conrad.” You hum with a little smile, deciding to join him on the floor. When you do this, you’re immediately being pulled over to straddle his lap, to which you had no complaints in the slightest.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He quips, quirking his brow up in your direction.

“It’s so neat and tidy in here. Plus, you have those little single player games you love so much for some reason. And there’s enough books for you to stay up here for god knows how long.” You reply, a small smirk forming on your lips.

“You may have a point.” Conrad concedes with a smile, his mind immediately flashing to the many times his mom had to practically bribe him to come down for dinner, even coming up there herself at times.

“I know.” You reply, pridefully beaming down at him.You could feel his arms wrapping your waist, pulling you closer to his chest, prompting you to rest your arms on his shoulders, immediately playing with the soft curls at the nape of his neck out of instinct. A wave of comfortable silence falls over the room, both you and Conrad basking in the simple state of being together. And being closer than before. Even though it was a small thing to see his childhood home and treehouse, the both of you whether it was verbalized it or not, no doubt felt closer. Conrad chose and allowed himself to open up and bringing you deeper into his life, something he did very sparingly.

“Thanks for bringing me along babe.” You whisper, ducking down slightly to plant a small kiss on his cheek.

“There’s no one else I’d rather be here with.” He whispers back, with the utmost sincerity in his tone and eyes. Conrad then proceeds to tenderly bring his lips to yours.The two of you were in absolutely no rush, just wanting to soak up any and every moment you had together. You and Conrad were in a bubble. Better yet, an island all to yourselves. The privacy you two had to seek out for the past three or so months was all yours now, at least for the next three days until you yourself went home for the holidays. And because of that, you and Conrad were going to make the most out of this time together.

All either of you could focus on in this moment was your mouths moving against each other’s. Just about anything could’ve been happening around you both and neither of you would bat an eye in that direction. There was this sort of force that held you both tightly wound in each other without being overpowering. Your fingers were nestled within his hair as his glide back and forth across the expanse of your back.

The kisses from Conrad remained soft and tender, however you could feel a bit more power behind each one. A power to which you gladly reciprocated. He manages to slip his tongue past your parted lips, only intensifying the already heavy atmosphere. Not only had he taken claim of your mouth, you could also feel him quickly growing beneath you (and since you were straddling him, your center was pressed right against him) and you could feel his hands sneak underneath your hoodie and t-shirt to take claim of your warm skin beneath.

When it came to time or how cold it was outside, neither of you were paying attention. At this point, the both of you were turned on and wrapped up in each other to even care for how long you’d been up there. That is, until the youngest of the Fisher boys stated yelling at the bottom of the tree for him.

Originally, Conrad would be the only one at home for a few days before the youngest Fisher would arrive, followed by their father. This meant he’d have you all to himself for a few days, the much-needed calm before the storm if you will. And in the long run of his " plan ", he planned on introducing you to his father and brother when you came with him to Cousins over the summer. That is, if you said yes when he asked you (he had a good feeling that you’d say yes though). But seeing as Jeremiah had arrived earlier, that plan was now scrapped.

“Conrad, I know you’re up there.” Jeremiah says pointedly up towards the quiet treehouse.

At this, your boyfriend gives you the smallest shhh between his light pants before bringing his lips back to yours, hoping that the silence would send his brother away.

“Maybe we should go down there. You don’t want to be rude, that is your brother after all.” You quietly reason, catching your breath in the process.

“I just want you all to myself. Plus he wasn’t even supposed to arrive this early!” He pouts, pulling you closer if that was even possible. When he does this though, he slightly moves you against the very noticeable bump in his pants, causing the both of you to let out a sigh of momentary relief. Before you could even respond, Jeremiah is shouting again.

“I will come up there!” Jeremiah “threatens” from below. He would’ve stampeded up there already if he hadn’t seen two suitcases in the house when he went in. The last thing, like the very last thing, he ever wanted was to see was his brother in a compromising position. So he treaded on the side of caution, for his own sake.

When he says this, you give Conrad one look and at last, he’s throwing in the towel.

“No need! We’re coming down.” Conrad grumbles loud enough for Jeremiah to hear, giving your thigh a slight squeeze, signaling for you to stand up first. Moving your hands into his you move to stand up, your legs a little shaky from your “activities” and from being on the floor for that long. Conrad then follows suit, standing tall in front of you. As if there’s a magnet at your waist, his arms snake back around you to hold you again, to which you are more than welcoming. But before Conrad can plant a departing kiss on you, the nuisance below (at least that’s what Conrad would be referring to him as from now on) starts up again.

“Conrad and-“ Jeremiah begins, pausing to think about who and the hell his brother could possibly be up there with. “whoever he’s up there with, kissing in a tree, K.I.S.S.I.N.G.” Jeremiah proudly sings from the ground. ‘How childish could he possibly be’, Conrad thought. While Conrad let out an annoyance filled groan, you had no choice but to let out a giggle at the indirect back and forth between the two brothers. Eventually, the two of you make it back down the tree (Conrad reminding you to be careful just about every five seconds) to find Jeremiah waiting on the ground with a look of complete shock and a touch of confusion.

“Jere, this is my girlfriend Y/n. Y/n, this is my pest of a brother Jeremiah.” Conrad quickly introducing the two of you. You send the blonde a quick wave and smile, completely caught off guard at even meeting him right then and there, let alone right after you just finished making out with his older brother in his childhood tree house.

“Now how in the hell were you able to get a girlfriend? And a pretty one at that?” The blonde asks, a look of patronizing yet slightly genuine confusion on his face.

“Well when you’re not an annoying ass it’s a bit easier.” Conrad condescendingly replies, tightening the arm he had wrapped around your waist. To diffuse some of the tension radiating off of him, you peck his cheek and rest your head on his shoulder.

“Okay fine, don’t tell me.” He replies, rolling his eyes in the process. “Anyways, it’s nice to meet you Y/n. And I’m sorry you got stuck with my brother, hopefully he isn’t boring you too much.” He pokes with a wide smirk.

“It was nice meeting you too. And don’t worry, I’ll make sure to let him know if he ever does.” You reply with a smile, even though you knew that it was practically impossible for Conrad to bore you in the slightest. Jeremiah lets out a small chuckle at your comment before giving his brother a strong pat on the back and making his way back towards the house.

“I swear he didn’t tell me he was coming early. It’s literally impossible for him to be early to anything.” Conrad quickly explains once Jeremiah is out or earshot, worried that you may have felt uneasy about meeting his brother this early on in your relationship.

“I mean, I was going to meet him eventually. Right?” You softly reply.

“Of course.” He quickly replies back.

“Then we’re just a tad bit ahead of schedule.” You ration, pulling away slightly to face him. His cheeks were pink from the cold and he had the biggest and sappiest smile spread across his face. “I would kiss you right now but I can’t feel my lips.” You joke snapping him out of the small daze he was in.

“Well let’s get you inside. Don’t need my girlfriend turning into a popsicle.” He chuckles before picking you up bridal style and running you two back to the house, sending you into a fit of laughter.

request new stuff here♡

#conrad fisher fanfic #tsitp conrad #conrad fisher x y/n #conrad x reader #conrad fisher x reader #conrad fisher fluff #conrad fisher x you #tsitp fanfic #the summer i turned pretty

222 notes · View notes

stardustedknuckles · 2 years

Note

Oh noooo, all these Fluff Prompts are way too cute, how am I expected to choose- maybe 1 and 7 together? Beauyasha of course :3

"You look really good in my clothes" and "I could just stare all day"/"creep."

I decided to stay in the canon timeline because I don't do enough of that. post-canon, Yasha and Beau join Fjord and Jester on their ship the way the gods intended and it's always a bit tricky, starting a new chapter of an adventure, but some wonderful things remain constant. Few hundred words.

It was nearly evening when Beau slipped away from the general vicinity of everyone belowdecks, and the sun was in a full and splendid set when Yasha came to find her. Her boots approaching on the wood were soft but deliberate over the sound of the water around them, and something in Beau warmed at the quiet request implied. She didn't turn from the view or the cold breeze stinging at her exposed skin, just patted the ledge beside her and dangled her feet as Yasha made her way up to join her - but not before a rustle and the smell of home as her girlfriend's coat settled on Beau's own shoulders with the sort of warmth that surprised her with the knowledge she had been cold at all. Beau gathered the front in one hand and shivered gratefully as Yasha's leg pressed against hers, and when one great arm rested over her shoulders she abandoned all pretense of stoicism and melted against her side with a long exhale.

"Hey, babe. You feel like contemplating your whole life too?"

"My whole life? Whoof, that's a lot for one sunset." Yasha squeezed her gently. "I mostly wanted to contemplate you, if that's okay."

Beau peeled her eyes from the peach-bottomed clouds over the fading horizon and roved them over Yasha now instead. The cacophony of color around them made pink and purple shimmers of the silver in her hair, violet eye shot bright orange with fading sun and the shadows around her small smile hazy with the last rays of light. "Shit," Beau remarked. "I think you're onto something. I'd definitely rather think about my hot and amazing girlfriend. Sold."

Yasha smiled wider. "I can say I do recommend it." Her lips brushed Beau's forehead, and between the heat of her body and the smell of the too-large coat, the thing Beau had felt wobbling inside of her - the dam bending that had prompted her to seek out solitude - gave a decisive lurch. Beau blinked hard against her blurring vision, but Yasha's face was six inches from her own and her perception doubled when it was about her. "Baby?" Her free hand lifted to Beau's face, fingers calloused and almost reverent where they alighted on her chin and cupped her cheek. "Are you okay?"

Beau lifted a hand to her eyes, exceedingly careful not to nudge Yasha away as she wiped the first tears on the pad of her thumb and sniffed. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm actually maybe better than I've ever been?" Yasha's concern faded but didn't vanish completely, a kind of understanding filtering in that brought a fresh ache rippling through her stomach. "It's just weird, I guess. Kinda fucked up, like I'm not really used to feeling this good. I guess I'm just…processing. Life after the Nein, missing people like Veth and Caduceus, you know, who like me too for once…it's still all new." More tears gathered, but Yasha was prepared this time and curled a gentle knuckle to catch them.

"Were you hiding up here? Did I ruin it?"

Beau managed a soggy chuckle and tilted her hand into Yasha's palm with a sniff. "You didn't ruin anything, Yash. I'm glad you're here."

"Okay, good," Yasha breathed. "Because this is a really bad hiding spot."

As though to emphasize her point, a voice came from six feet behind them both. "Grub's up soon!" Marius called. "And we got bacon too."

"No," Beau corrected over her shoulder. "People who have killed something get bacon. If you're good you can have some cinnamon in your oatmeal."

"Oh come on," Marius grumbled. Then, voice growing closer, "Everything alright? You sound -"

"Fine," Yasha said flatly over Beau's head. "She sounds wonderful. Just we're, you know. Enjoying the sunset and the fresh air. Alone, together. We'll be down for dinner, uh." She glanced at Beau. "When we get there."

Beau could hear Marius's lifted hands in his voice as it receded. "Okay, yep. No problem. See you…whenever."

Yasha's gaze stayed focused on his direction for another moment, and then she met Beau's and they both cracked a small smile. "Fucking Marius," said Beau.

"Useless," Yasha agreed. Her thumb stroked Beau's chin. "You look really good in my coat, by the way."

Being held like this, complimented and wanted so plainly - it was still so new to Beau, fresh every time. Only the knowledge that wanting was itself a rebellion of sorts for Yasha, a kind of trust, kept her from a reflexive shrinking from the intensity of her quiet and simple affection - or you know. From crying again.

A hundred deflective innuendos perched at the tip of her tongue, but all she said was, "oh yeah?"

Yasha nodded. "I could just stare. Allllll day."

"Creep."

The delighted chuckle Beau got in response put the sunset to shame, and she was already tilting her chin when Yasha leaned in to press that smile to her own.

"Feel better?" she asked, after. Her fingertips scratched lightly over the fuzz of Beau's undercut, making her a puddle in a new kind of way. "Or, um. Worse? You said you felt really good, but…"

"Better," Beau confirmed. She squeezed Yasha's knee and smiled. "I might go to the crow's nest next time though, heads up. Not hiding from you, but for Marius's sake, y'know, maybe where he can't ask stupid questions."

Yasha nodded seriously. "That's very kind of you."

"Kindest in the realm, remember?"

"Remember? I always knew."

They stepped together off the wide railing of the ship, Yasha's hands reaching to adjust the coat around Beau's shoulders but making no move to reclaim it.

"You know," Beau said, "I almost believe that."

"That you're the kindest person in Exandria?"

"That you had my number from the word go."

"Oh that. I certainly had something. I mean look at you, baby. You've always been incredible."

Beau stuck her arms through the sleeves of Yasha's coat and gave an obliging twirl, gratified and a little stricken by the way Yasha was watching her with open adoration when she stopped with her arms still out. "Don't got a mirror handy. Feel free to tell me how incredible I look."

The sun was well blow the water now, the shadows digging in deeper around Yasha's expression but only serving to make her softer around the eyes. "You look like someone who wants a piggyback ride to dinner, yes?"

Beau lifted her arms higher. "You fucking know it, baby."

They were both giggling when Beau leaped up on her girlfriend's offered back, and as one they headed towards the open galley door and the food and friends waiting below.

#beauyasha #prompt game #flash fic #this started out as extreme hurt/comfort involving five levels of exhaustion #I got 300 words in and was like shit I'm over complicating this #look I'm at the part in c2 where beau is okay with them all being codependent #and they're talking about how they want to travel around and beau likes being a foot soldier #and yasha wants to be where her family is #and I just think that makes better sense as an immediate post-canon m9 life

89 notes · View notes

fortheloveofallthings · 29 days

Text

Steddie Florist AU - mini fic (inspired by a twitter prompt)

Eddie never bought flowers. Not once in his life had it even crossed his mind. But every afternoon before he heads into his shift at the bar he steals a glance at the perfectly styled man through the window organizing the bouquets. Every once in a while, Eddie would catch himself stopping dead in his tracks staring between the guy and the flowers, and every once in a while they’d make eye contact. His face would flush red as he quickly buried his face back in his leather jacket and rush into work.

Steve loved making bouquets. He loved flowers, and the chill of the cooler they were kept in. He loved sharing holidays with the strangers that came and went. He loved the curly hair and leather that floated across the windows from the storefront. And he loved that stranger’s rich chocolate eyes even more. The deer in the headlights look he’d stumble upon when their views locked. One afternoon, the man finally walked in and after all his failed attempts at love here he was ready to try again. He stood from where he was kneeling, “What brings you in?”

Eddie practically burst into the shop with no game plan in mind and stopped immediately at the entrance. Thankfully the man, much more gorgeous without the glare of glass between them, spoke first. “Oh um, not sure? I walk by everyday and uh thought id look around?” A small giggle escaped the florist, “sure man, look all you want. I’m here if you have any questions.” He flashed a well executed customer service smile then went to tend to some of the house plants across the sales floor. Eddie waded through the aisles curiously examining the buckets of roses and countless other flowers he didn’t know the names of. He lingered around the… “Seems like you like the dahlias” the florist said, lingering next to Eddie making him jump. “Shit man! You have a quiet step” “I’m sorry, Robin scolds me for scaring her all the time.” He looked away sheepish. “Well at least you can make it up to her with all these lovely flowers,” he nervously chuckled, “She must love that quality in her partner at least.” The florist laughed, “Shes not my girlfriend, no. Shes my best friend… and co-worker.”

Steve could’ve watched this man walk around the shop for hours. The curiosity he wandered with held a child-like wonder, an interest in the unknown and he had to go and scare the guy. The man sighed relief and got back to the flowers, “wait? These are dahlias? Like the murder?” Steve lost it at that, “like the murder!?” He laughed, held his stomach and everything. “Yes like that, but it was a flower first.” “Oh right, well maybe ill get one of these?” The man asked so unsure if that was even ok. “Of course, you want just a single one?” The man combed his fingers through his curls then rubbed the back of his neck. “Uh ya just one of the purple ones. Im sure theres an empty bottle at work I can put it in. Might be nice to have it on the bar.” They walked over to the counter and Steve wrapped the single dahlia in a sheet of black tissue paper. “This one is on me,” Steve winked. The man’s cheeks flushed pink and the guy avoided any eye contact like the plague. “You sure? I don’t mind paying,” He offered. “I’m sure, least I could do for scaring you.” The man took his single flower with utmost care turned towards the door and just before leaving he turned back to Steve. “If you’re free later, head over to the Red Dragon. Its only a block down the street, I’ll get you a drink on me. Just ask for Eddie if you don’t see me, sometimes I get stuck recycling the kegs in the back”

Part 2

#steddie fanfic #steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #steve x eddie #florist au #tempted to make this longer

75 notes · View notes

tealeavesandtrash · 13 days

Text

Jily Mirco Fic - @jilymicrofics prompt: Party - 405 words

The music and the chatter is deafening. Banners and confetti hang from the walls and ceilings, decorating the room in a sea of red and gold. The atmosphere is electric - the Quidditch Cup is theirs, the end of term is only days away - the synergy of it all is bubbling and overflowing.

Lily clasps her drink close to her chest, still with half a mind not to spill it as she lets herself sway with the crowd. James is standing on a table at the far side, cheeks flushed from the alcohol and a wild grin as he sings offbeat to the music. He glances over at her, zoning in like he can feel her watching. It’s like a magnet.

She moves without thinking, weaving through the sea of students, bumping shoulders but not caring when her drink sloshes over. When she’s close enough to him, James leans down, almost losing his balance in the process but she’s quick to reach up and steady him. He grins at her, dark eyes sparkling. His glasses sit skewed on his nose and it’s almost endearing.

“Did you see the game, Evans?” he half yells at her just to be heard over the noise.

“Course I did, everyone did!”

His smile widens even more. “I knew it. We always play better when you’re watching.”

Her brow furrows in confusion but she’s still smiling up at him. Her hands are still on his shoulders, she can feel the firm muscles through his shirt. “You’re my lucky charm, Lily.”

She blinks up at him as the words settle. Maybe it’s the alcohol or maybe she misheard him, but her brain is struggling to process what he said. “I’m what?”

And in a flash, James grabs her and hoists her up. Instinctively she wraps her arms around his neck, clinging onto him to stop herself tumbling backwards off the table. Not that she needs to, James’ arm is firmly around the back of her waist, holding her steady. Someone wolf-whistles in the background.

His face is so close to her and she fights the urge to brush the hair out of his face. He’s still grinned ear-to-ear at her, but there’s something softer in his expression, fondness maybe. Her cheeks flush hot when he leans in - close enough so only she can hear and feel his hot breath on her ear when he speaks, “You are my lucky charm, Lily Evans.”

#lily evans #james potter #jily #james x lily #marauders #micro fiction #complete #oneshot #jily fanfiction #marauders fanfiction #maddy writes #fluff #jily fluff #marauders era #jily microfic

90 notes · View notes

doiefics · 10 months

Text

07:25 am

pairing: jaehyun x afab!reader

genre: fluff + newly married!au

wordcount: 368

warnings: slightly suggestive

Your eyes opened up without a set alarm, as they were accustomed to doing by this point, blinking a few times only to realise there was no work to go to today.

Turning to your side, you looked at Jaehyun, who was snuggled up and sound asleep like a baby. Your body was pressed up against his smooth, bare skin, feeling the tingling of his dark hair.

You pushed your fingers through his black locks, caressing them and feeling the warmth between the two of you, without noticing that he was asleep no more.

He hummed in response to your actions, placing soft kisses and rubbing his hand around your waist, half asleep, still.

"Good morning, wifey." Jaehyun raised his body and drew it nearer to your face, grinning through his deep morning voice.

"I can't believe we got married yesterday." You gushed, cupping his cheeks and placing a kiss on the lips, not forgetting to poke those pretty dimples of his. "You're now my husband for real, Jaehyun!"

"It still feels the same!" He exclaimed, fixing your hair back into place. "You, me, our names, the hickey on my shoulder, they're all the same!" Some days he was just shameless, and today was one of those days.

You grabbed his hand, brushing your finger around the wedding band as he gazed into your eyes, a smile never leaving his face.

"I'm glad we at least get a week off from work!" You laughed.

"That means a week full of sex!" He replied.

Jaehyun tightened his grip on you as he switched positions, your face was now placed on his chest, as his free hand ran up and down your back this time, the other one still holding your hand.

"I promise I'll be a great husband, even when we have grandkids." He expressed with a sincere tone out of a sudden.

"If that's the case, then.." You started to trace his bare torso.

"Have we already thought about our kids?" You made a lighthearted joke.

"Of course! I’ve even prepared possible names!" Jaehyun enthused, flashing a bright smile.

"Then?" He asked, pretending as if he didn’t even know where babies came from, purposely.

"We should get to business right away!"

masterlist please refrain from plagiarising, translating or posting outside of this platform

have a request? prompt fic game is OPEN!

365 notes · View notes

inspired-by-the-music · 8 months

Text

smile: rewritten

pairing: jaemin x reader featuring: jisung as the reader's brother; the other members of nct dream synopsis: before even meeting him, y/n decides that she hates her brother's friend. nobody yells at jisung and gets away with it! as she grows distant from her buzzkill boyfriend, y/n comes to realize that jaemin can't be that bad. nobody who makes people smile like does can be that bad. warning: reader's boyfriend is an awful jerk note: this is a rewrite of a fic that is about three years old. available on: tumblr, wattpad taglist: @niinjo

“I’m so proud of you, Jisung!” You cooed when you learned that your baby brother earned his first part-time job.

Jisung mumbled, “Ah, cut it out.” He couldn’t fight his smile as he squirmed to escape your efforts to pinch his rosy cheeks. “I don’t act like this when you make the honor roll at your college!”

“That’s because my academic excellence has become expected, almost unimpressive,” you joked confidently. You almost choked on laughter when Jisung groaned at your mock arrogance. “But you—” you poked his arm— “you’ve always been a precious baby, so it’s weird to watch you step into the adult world.”

Long ago, Jisung accepted that he would always be a baby in your eyes. He didn’t waste his breath arguing that he was kind of, basically, technically an adult. He blinked at you and rested his head against the couch. “I don’t think about it like that. It’s just a job at the cafe, and I’m only doing it because my friends are.”

Spending time with Jisung was refreshing because his simple, youthful outlook challenged your habit of overanalyzing. That aspect of your relationship hadn’t changed since you enrolled in the local university. Jisung was still very much your baby brother. Yet, as he laid back and stretched his legs over your lap and his socked feet dangled off the arm of the couch, you realized that he was growing up. He was growing up, and he didn’t think anything about it. Meanwhile, you mourned every second of lost youth. To Jisung, the next steps in life were an exciting adventure with his friends.

What would it be like, you wondered enviously, to be like Jisung?

You wouldn’t ask. Even if you did, Jisung wouldn’t have known how to answer.

He playfully wiggled his toes into your ribs, and you laughed while swatting at his legs. A voice sounded through his headset. The words were unintelligible, but the tone was unmistakably annoyed. They prompted Jisung to sit upright, plant his feet on the carpeted floor, and unpause his video game. Although his gaze was fixed on the flashing screen, he covered only one ear with the headset.

He heard you ask, “Who is that?”

“Jaemin,” Jisung whispered out of the side of his mouth and covered the microphone so his friend wouldn’t hear.

Because he was playing with just one hand, Jisung caused his team to lose. The loss was evident from the crimson text— “YOU LOSE”— filling the black screen, the slackjawed frown on Jisung’s face, and especially from the shrieks breaking through the headset.

Jisung chanted, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” but the shrieks rang on.

Your face flushed. “Still Jaemin?”

Jisung’s answer with a nod. He didn’t bother to push away the bangs that had fallen into his eyes.

“What is he even saying?” You hissed.

“Nothing really,” Jisung shrugged away from your question.

You were overprotective of Jisung; you wouldn’t deny that. His willingness to defend his buddy despite his flaring temper fuelled your frustration. Maybe, you thought later, you shouldn’t have disliked that Jaemin kid without having met him.

Rolling your eyes, you demanded, “Tell him that it’s just a game. You can play again until you win.”

Jisung shook his head and calmly explained, “That’s the worst thing to say to a raging gamer, Y/N—”

“Are you talking to a girl?” Jaemin roared. “Is that why we lost the tournament? Because you’re flirting with a girl?”

Sensing that you were reaching to snatch the headset to rival Jaemin’s temper, Jisung stood tall on the couch so you couldn’t reach his head no matter how hard you stretched. He huffed at Jaemin, “I’m talking to my sister, not flirting, and I have to go!” He disconnected the headset and turned the game off before you could say anything to threaten his friendship with Jaemin.

You slumped down on the cushion. “You must have made some really nice friends while I’ve been busy busting my butt at school.”

Jisung swore, “He is nice!” He stepped off the couch. Frowning as you rolled your eyes again, he grumbled, “There’s no point in talking when people are too angry to listen.” He sulked to his bedroom, embarrassed by his scoldings.

As he walked away, you resolved to comfort him later after tensions died down.

. . .

Because you were determined to be a kind person, you surrounded yourself with people who didn’t boil your blood. So, to tolerate Jaemin, which was as close as you could get to liking him the way Jisung wanted, you had to maintain a safe distance. For the sake of peace, Jaemin had to remain a faceless name spoken into Jisung’s headset. You tried not to roll your eyes whenever you heard his name.

Despite what anyone says, you didn’t walk into the cafe that night with the intention of meeting Jaemin. In fact, had you known that he was the friend Jisung followed into the workforce, you wouldn’t have agreed to pick your brother up after his shift. That was childish. Since you were already in town after your last class, it only made sense that you should be the one to wait for him in the parking lot.

You were patient at first. Then, minutes passed, and you had to turn the car off to save gas. The almost-summer heat baked the car until you lost all self-control. Had you rushed into the air-conditioned cafe sooner, you might have missed Jaemin’slecture. Your temper wouldn’t have been pushed past its boiling point.

The clock hanging on the cafe wall warned that you had wasted an hour waiting on Jisung. He was still scrubbing tables.

You couldn’t have recognized Jaemin by his neatly combed hair or sparkling smile. You knew him by the frustrated tone he used to scold Jisung. Without looking up from the register, he complained, “You made too many stupid mistakes today, Jisung! I can forgive you for forgetting the day’s special once or twice. But you can’t forget every time you talk to a customer! If you can’t be bothered to memorize something so simple—”

“Ahem.” The boys gawked at you with wide eyes when you cleared your throat.

“— you can always just look at this chalkboard,” Jaemin concluded softly pointing at an overheard sign that boasted: ‘Today’s Special: Green Tea Latte.’

Jaemin’s bug-eyed stare provoked you to quip, “Is that all you do—for fun and for work? Yell at Jisung?”

“Huh?” Jaemin’s jaw dropped in an innocent schoolboy expression that might have been adorable if he hadn’t already landed on your bad side.

This was your biggest fault: you put too much weight into first impressions. You were quick to make up your mind about people; you were slow to reconsider. Of course, you could apologize after realizing that you had misjudged somebody. You even had a consistent record of forgiving inexcusable offenses against yourself. What you couldn’t forgive or forget were attacks against Jisung, and you had just witnessed Jaemin’s second strike.

Jisung resumed wiping the table and acted as the mediator between your wrath and Jaemin’s confusion. He asked you, “What are you doing here?

You didn’t expect Jisung to raise his voice to defend himself from Jaemin’s scolding. He was passive in friendship, and he was subordinate to Jaemin in the workplace hierarchy. You were proud of your brother’s temperament. Proud and, in the cafe in the middle of the night, annoyed.

“Mom and Dad asked me to drive you home after your shift,” you answered. “Your shift was supposed to end over an hour ago.”

Jisung’s lips rounded into a tiny ‘o.’ He turned to Jaemin for confirmation of the time.

Jaemin didn’t notice, though. He was quietly studying you with narrowed eyes. “You’re Jisung’s sister?”

“Yeah,” you nodded stiffly. “I’m the reason you lost your little video game tournament.”

Your words were intended as a blunt weapon, but Jaemin laughed. His smile was almost blinding as he swept his hair out of his face with slender coffee-stained fingers. “Oh yeah. Well, don’t sweat that. I forgive ya!”

Before you could explain that you weren’t apologizing, that neither you nor Jisung needed to beg for forgiveness, Jaemin winked. “As long as you go on a date with me!”

You imagined your reaction looked a lot like Jisung’s: hanging jaws and wide-eyed blinking. Objectively, it was flattering that someone as attractive as Jaemin—excluding his temper—would flirt with you even as a mindless pastime. Even if Jaemin hadn’t made two terrible first impressions, even if he wasn’t one of Jisung’s buddies, even if your pride would allow you to give in to his charms, one dreadful fact remained:

“I have a boyfriend.”

On cue, Jisung rolled his eyes. Grinding his teeth, he dropped his gaze on the table.

“Oh.” Jaemin’s shoulders fell, but his smile barely faltered. His smile, you realized, wasn’t an expression of happiness. His lips were almost permanently set in a toothy grin, even if it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

That must be inconvenient, you thought. Does he smile even when he’s sad? Or when he’s angry?

When Jaemin looked up at Jisung, his eyes crinkled fondly. All traces of past frustration had vanished. “Goodnight, Jisung. I’ll see ya tomorrow!”

Slowing his movements to a near-complete stop, Jisung started, “But I’m not finished—”

Jaemin shot him a pointed look. As quickly as it had calmed, his temper flared. “Don’t keep your sister waiting. I’ll close up.”

As you opened your mouth to thank Jaemin, or apologize for your impatience, or to offer to help clean or at least quietly wait for them to finish, your phone rang. Your mother was calling probably to ask why you and Jisung weren’t home yet.

“Come on,” you urged Jisung gently after silencing your ringer. “We should go. Mom is worried.”

Jisung looked at Jaemin once more for permission. After Jaemin nodded, Jisung untied his apron and folded it on the counter. “Thanks. I’ll see ya tomorrow.”

Had Jisung been less mature, he would have teased you for abandoning your decision to dislike Jaemin after your brief first meeting. Instead, he focused on returning your mother’s call to recount his day. At school, he aced one of his finals. On his first day at work, Jaemin taught him how to make all kinds of coffee and pastries while defending him from fussy customers.

Silence fell over the car after Jisung ended the call. You drummed your thumbs on the steering wheel, anticipating that he must have saved some exciting story for your ears only, just as he always had. But no sound came from the passenger seat.

Your heart sank. You couldn’t blame him for being mad or embarrassed by you. Not only had you treated him like a defenseless infant, as always; you were also rude to his friend.

Yes, you had walked in on Jaemin lecturing Jisung. At least Jaemin had been considerate enough to wait until the cafe was empty to voice his criticisms. All day, while you were too busy at school to do it yourself, Jaemin acted as Jisung’s guardian and protector. And no, you hadn’t forgotten that Jaemin screamed at Jisung and made his face flush because of a stupid video game, but it was clear from watching their interactions and from hearing how proudly Jisung talked about him that they held no grudges. Who were you, then, to hold on to one on Jisung’s behalf?

“I’m sorry,” you muttered. An apologetic glance over at the passenger seat revealed that Jising had fallen fast asleep. His head rested against the window, and his mouth hung agape. Faint snores filled the silence.

As you decided to let him sleep, Jisung jolted awake. His face almost crashed into the dashboard.

“Alright there, partner?” You hummed like you used to in the days when you played Toy Story with him from dusk until dawn.

“Yeah.” Jisung nodded groggily as he settled back and reclined his seat. “Did you say something while I was sleeping, partner?”

Again, you readied your apology, but you hesitated to deliver it. You sensed Jisung’s smile like gentle sun rays illuminating your skin. He wasn’t upset. He didn’t expect an apology. Yet, you felt you owed him one anyway.

He asked, “What’s wrong?”

You shook your head. Although you were sorry, you didn’t have to express that with a long-winded speech he wouldn’t understand. You could express it instead through actions. You could express it through jokes.

“I said Jaemin is a real cutie.” Without glancing away from the road, you winked.

You expected Jisung to gag. Who wants to hear their sister call their friend cute? Surprisingly, he simply warned, “You have a boyfriend, remember?” Unsurprisingly, he choked around the word ‘boyfriend.’

“Why don’t you like him?” You asked. “My boyfriend, I mean?”

Had you looked over, you would have seen Jisung cross his arms and turn his gaze out the window. He asked, “Why do you like him?”

Jisung rarely disliked anyone. His disapproval of your boyfriend made you wary of the romance—if you could even call it a romance. After months of back and forth, he finally decided that you could call him your boyfriend. Because you spent so much time and energy chasing that ideal, the half-formed thought of being with him, you couldn’t let it go.

You should have been able to answer Jisung’s question. It was a dooming sign, your inability to name one reason why you liked your boyfriend. Rather than heeding the sign, however, you clutched the wool over your eyes and turned the radio on.

. . .

“Believe it or not, babe, I’d like to have one date that’s not about babysitting your little brother,” your boyfriend said through a mouthful of rice.

Rejection was an almost daily occurrence, but you reddened nonetheless. “First of all, my brother isn’t that young.” Yes, to you, Jisung was a precious baby, but you had to deny that to defend him from your boyfriend’s criticism. “Second of all, it’s not a date. I told Jisung I would take him and his friends to the arcade if he got good grades on all his exams. I’m inviting you because I thought it would be fun.”

That was a lie. You knew that your boyfriend wouldn’t have fun at the arcade. You invited him because that’s what a good girlfriend would do. Maybe you thought that acting like a better girlfriend would make him act like a better boyfriend. Maybe disappointment was worth the risk because it could be grave enough to sever the delicate relationship.

He had stopped listening, opting instead to scroll through his phone. “Whatever.”

“Yeah,” you mumbled. “Whatever.”

Although you would be an hour early to class, you packed your bag and raced out of the cafeteria. Had you been thinking more clearly—had you been able to breathe comfortably enough to think around him at all—you would have tried again to break up with him. It wasn’t a mystery why Jisung hated him, you admitted as you dashed through the hallway. He treated everything you said like an inconvenience. He was only momentarily satisfied if your attention was solely fixed on them. You couldn’t share your attention with your friends or even your own brother.

Then, he could ignore you for days, leaving you to wonder what you had done to inflict the latest deafening silence. When you would swallow your dwindling pride to approach him, he would reject your advances because they weren’t intimate enough. They weren’t physical enough. They weren’t enough.

You were trapped in a cycle with no clear beginning or end. As you sat with your back pressed against the wall and your knees drawn up to your chest, you couldn’t ignore this fact: you were miserable. Rather than finding the strength to end the relationship, instead of embracing the uncertainty of freedom, you prayed that he would let you go. If he was so uninterested in you, why couldn’t he just walk away?

The answer was obvious. Nobody ever liked him before you did. By clinging to you, even if it meant breaking you, he could build an illusion of self-worth. By putting you down, making you beg for acknowledgment, he could stand over somebody. Because you walked into this situation by pining after somebody who never wanted you, you started to believe that you deserved to be unhappy.

As students flooded out of the classroom and into the hall, you wiped at your eyes with ice-cold hands. You weren’t crying; you were trying to wipe the tired dark circles from your face.

On their way out of a classroom, someone called your name.

It was Jaemin. Beaming, he waved both hands excitedly like he was greeting an old friend—like you hadn’t loathed him before meeting him.

The dread your boyfriend caused and the guilt of initially disliking Jaemin faded when Jaemin sat next to you. He slung his yellow backpack onto the floor. He stretched his arm along the back of the bench. When his fingers brushed against your shoulder, you raised your eyebrows. He said, “I gotta leave room for others!”

“Right.” You nodded dubiously. “What are you doing here, Jaemin?”

“Ouch, icy.” He winced, grinning. “Just give me a chance, and I’ll prove that I’m worthy of sitting with you!”

“I don’t doubt it.” He blushed at your honest attempt at flattery, and you continued, “But that’s not what I meant. Why are you doing here at my school?”

Jaemin shrugged. “It’s not just your school.”

Your eyes widened. “You go to school here?” He nodded. “Really? I could have sworn you went to school with Jisung.”

“Nope.” Jaemin popped the ‘p’ proudly. “I hope you didn’t reject me just because you thought I was too young!” You laughed, and he winked. “It’s okay if you did. I’ll give you another chance to date me.”

You shook your head, almost in a futile attempt to convince yourself that Jaemin’s smile didn’t make your heart flutter.

“Just playing.” He dropped the arm resting behind your shoulders to act as a barrier between your bodies. “Jisung said you really have a boyfriend, so I probably shouldn’t flirt with you.”

You blurted, “He probably wouldn’t mind.” You regretted the words as soon as they left your mouth, but you couldn’t pull them out of the air.

“Who?” Curious, Jaemin tilted his head. “Jisung or your boyfriend?” You didn’t answer, so he tried another question: “Would you mind?”

Eager to escape, you flinched off of the bench. “Sorry, Jaemin. I have to get to class.”

As much as you loathed your boyfriend, as much as you were starting to like Jaemin, outright flirting wasn’t right. You didn’t need to add anything else to your list of things to overanalyze.

You couldn’t control what Jaemin did. He dove to reach your hand. He didn’t seem to care that you had a boyfriend. He probably didn’t have to care. The only heart he was responsible for was his own.

His touch was undeterred by your gasp. Because you didn’t yank your hand from his grasp, Jaemin smiled as he asked, “You’re going to the arcade with us this weekend, right?”

Touching somebody’s hand shouldn’t have been a big deal, but Jaemin’s touch took your breath away. “Oh, are you going too?” Jaemin nodded. He maintained eye contact, and your thoughts were clouded. “I’ll be there. Who do you think is paying for all the tokens and pizza?”

“Huh?” Surprised, Jaemin dropped your hand. You could breathe again. His eyes narrowed. “Not you. I’ll pay.”

You shook your head. “Jisung is my brother, and I promised to take him and his friends—”

“Do you know how many people he invited?” When you shook your head, Jaemin counted on his hand, “Mark, Renjun, Jeno, Haechan, Chenle, and me. Excluding me because I’m not letting you pay my way—and including Jisung, that’s five boys you’re promising to pay for. Five boys—” he wiggled his fingers menacingly—“who live on pizza and games.”

Forcing your arms through the straps of your backpack, you chuckled at his dramatic delivery. You asked, “If they’re so expensive, why are you so determined to pay for them yourself?”

He started, “Because—”

Your alarm sounded to signal that your class would start soon. “I have to go to class, Jaemin, so we’ll have to bicker about this later.”

As you dismissed the alarm, Jaemin yanked your phone away. “Here. I’ll give you my number.” His eyes twinkled when they met yours. A corner of his lips formed a half-smile as he clarified, “Just so we can discuss this payment business. Don’t get any funny ideas.”

. . .

Although you promised Jisung that you wouldn’t waste the night by waiting for you boyfriend, you didn’t keep your word. You sat alone at a table in the food court and stared at the door for about half an hour after Jisung ran into the arcade with his friends. Were you hoping that your boyfriend would show up? Not really. You didn’t want to play skeeball with him or anything. You just wanted, needed, for somebody to break the silence. After you last left him in the cafeteria, he left your texts unanswered. There was no reason to think he had changed his mind about coming to the arcade.

He’s not coming, you told yourself. Again, always, you were caught between relief and anxiety. Your sweaty palms clutched the edges of your seat. I’ll give him ten more minutes. After that, I’m having fun with or without him.

But you knew it was impossible to have fun with him. That truth was more blatant when Jaemin plopped into the chair next to you.

“I gave the children money to buy pizza,” he boasted in a raspy voice to emulate old age, “per our agreement.”

That was the compromise reached via texts: Jaemin would pay for food, and you would pay for arcade access.

Jaemin’s sparkling smile dimmed as he noticed how you nervously eyed the door and your phone. “Are you expecting someone?” You hesitated to respond, and he warned, “The kids will be here any minute. If you tell me what’s bothering you, we can work through it while we still have some privacy.”

His earnest stare prompted you to blurt, “My boyfriend.” Noting Jaemin’s frown, you squirmed through your stresses. “I invited him— who knows why?— and he said that he wanted to have a date without my brother tagging along. So, obviously, I stormed off. And we haven’t talked in two days, which isn’t that long, but I don’t know what to say to fix things. And he isn’t even here, and—”

Jaemin blinked like Jisung always did when your worries bubbled out of your mouth, so you cut yourself off. Jaemin’s mouth fell open, and it stayed open as he struggled to form a response.

“I’m sorry.” You said while shrinking in your seat. “I shouldn’t have told you that.”

Aside from feeling guilty for dumping your feelings on someone, you hated yourself for spilling them all over Jaemin of all people. Jaemin, who always smiled and didn’t deserve to be burdened with your self-inflicted troubles. Jaemin, who flirted with you, and somehow liked you, and didn’t want to hear about your boyfriend.

“I don’t think you have to apologize. To me or to him.” Jaemin’s smile slowly returned, and guilt eased its clutch around you. “No offense, but anyone who doesn’t want to hang out with you and Jisung is a loser. And I’m not just saying that because I like—”

Your soaring heart came crashing down when Haechan cheered, “We come bearing pizza!” The other boys followed behind him, each carrying two boxes of pizza.

Renjun returned Jaemin’s debit card and the bows sat around the table. Jisung sat at your side and smiled brightly even as Jaemin glared.

“Do you think you got enough to eat?” Jaemin furrowed his brow. “Seriously, guys, ten pizzas are excessive! You can’t just take advantage of my generosity and—”

“Jaemin,” you interrupted calmly, fighting the urge to giggle with the other boys. “It’s okay. If it matters so much, I’ll pay you back.”

“What?” He gasped. “No, don’t! Besides, money isn’t the point!”

“Generosity!” Chenle cackled and flicked a piece of pepperoni at Jaemin; he dodged the attack. “You just bought us dinner to impress Jisung’s sister!”

The others, excluding Jisung, chorused, “Ooooh.” All, except the laughing Mark, partook in flinging pizza toppings at Jaemin.

Burning a faint shade of pink from his neck up, Jaemin screeched, “Hey! Cut it out! I dressed nicely and—”

Jeno wiggled his eyebrows before sinking his teeth into a slice of cheese pizza. “Jaemin dressed nicely to impress Jisung’s sister!”

And the boys—minus Jisung, who sat quietly, cheeks stuffed full—again sang “Ooooh,” until you and Jaemin were both colored crimson.

In what must have been an attempt to defend you from his friends’ teasing, Jisung swallowed his mouthful and chirped, “She has a name!”

Jisung’s attempt backfired.

The boys sang, “Ooooh! Jaemin and Y/N, sitting in a tree. . .”

As you laughed out loud for the first time all night, Jaemin’s annoyance or embarrassment vanished. Grinning, he flew out of his seat, grabbed you by the hand, and pulled you toward the arcade. He said, “I hope you got all the pizza you wanted!”

Although you couldn’t care less about eating more pizza, you yelled over laughter and games, “You don’t think they’ll leave me any?”

Jaemin said, “Jisung might try to save you some, but it’ll get cold if one of the guys doesn’t steal it. You and I are gonna be here for a while.” He dropped your hand to point up at a shelf of plush prizes. “Which one do you want?”

The giant mint green llama instantly caught your eye. You fumbled with an answer because, “Jaemin, those cost, like, 5,000 tickets!”

He retrieved a neon green play card from his back pocket, twirled it between his fingers, and winked. “4,902 electronic tickets, baby! Pick your prize, and we’ll get the other 98 tickets!”

“How—why?” You stuttered, flustered by Jaemin’s unromantic use of the word ‘baby.’

“I come here a lot,” Jaemin shrugged, “and I already have a bunch of those plushes. It’s a little childish, but they always make me feel better when I’m feeling down.”

Oh. So this was his response to your rambling about your boyfriend. He wouldn’t tell you to break up with him as your girlfriends did before moving on to the next topic of idle gossip. He wouldn’t sulk with you like Jisung. Jaemin would go out of his way to teach you to have fun.

“Pick one!” Jaemin urged again, brushing his elbow against your ribs until you went weak with laughter. Before you could trip over your own feet, he secured you around the waist. His gaze followed where you pointed. “Ah, the llama. Cute. Let’s go!” He grabbed your hand and sped to the wall of skeeball machines because, he explained, that game was the quickest—and most fun!— way to earn tickets.

“We don’t have to run everywhere,” you wheezed, doubling over.

As he knelt to swipe his play card, Jaemin looked up and stole your little remaining breath with his smile. “Come on, breathlessness is part of the fun!” After watching you scramble to pull your card out of your pocket, Jaemin swiped his through your machine.

“Jaemin!” You swatted at him gently when he stood upright, and he spun away from the contact. “I’m supposed to pay for the games! That’s what we agreed on!”

Your scolding elicited a burst of laughter. Shaking his card at you, Jaemin defended himself. “The points are on my card.” You wrinkled your forehead, and he continued, “If you want that adorable llama, you gotta let me pay.”

Because he turned his attention to his game and started launching ball after ball into the center target, he didn’t see your small smile. You mirrored his posture as you started your game and said, “Under that cute exterior, you’re really quite cunning.”

Rather than fixating on the insult, Jaemin noticed the compliment. “Cute,” he mimicked your high pitch. “You think I’m cute?” He glanced at you and snorted as your ball sank into the gutter. “Oops! Am I too cute? Am I distracting you?”

Your blush was washed out by the blinking arcade lights. “You’re not distracting me because you’re cute.” You balanced the lie with a partial truth: “You’re distracting because you’re annoying.”

“Ouch,” He whistled. His game announced, ‘New High Score!’ and he celebrated by pumping a fist into the air. He turned to you and said, “Every time I think you’re starting to like me back just a little, you cut me right back down.”

Well aware of how flirtatiously Jaemin would interpret your words, you decided to say, ‘I do like you.’ The words were dancing on the tip of your tongue, but you swallowed them back when Jisung and his friends approached.

“Found ‘em!” Haechan declared like you had been playing hide-and-seek.

This is a good thing, you told yourself as your game ended without all the fanfare Jaemin’s high score earned. I would have regretted confusing Jaemin’s feelings. Some true things are better left unsaid.

“These kids are ruining the experience,” Jaemin grumbled. Shoving his hands into the pockets of light blue acid-washed jeans, he asked the boys, “What do you need now?”

“We just wanted to check in on our favorite budding romance.” Renjun’s jest received laughter from the other boys and a dramatic eyeroll from Jaemin.

“Find your own romances and stop following us like a bunch of weirdos,” Jaemin suggested.

Jisung stepped up to your side. “Want these?” His hands cupped a rainbow assortment of hard candies. “I won them!” Your brother beamed at his accomplishment when you popped a candy into your mouth.

Stuffing a wrapper and a couple of pieces into your pockets, you smiled at him. “Thank you, Jisung!” The cherry-flavored jawbreaker muffled your voice. You nearly choked on your laughter when Jisung bent to let you pat his head.

Chenle said, “Now that the adorable sibling bonding is out of the way, we’re gonna play laser tag. We know you two—” his eyes flickered from you to Jaemin—“would rather make out by the skeeball machines—”

You gasped, and Jisung shouted, “Hey!” He stomped to Chenle and towered over him. Jisung’s height alone would have been daunting if he didn’t have the face of a baby even when glowering. “Don’t say stuff like that! She’s my sister!”

Chenle’s hands rose in mock surrender. “I’m not the one making out with—”

“Anyway—” Jeno intervened by stepping between Chenle and Jisung—“We’re gonna play laser tag if you wanna tag along!” Jeno laughed at his pun.

Jaemin shook his head, and his bangs fell into his eyes. “We’re not gonna play. Thanks for asking.”

“We’re not?” You wrinkled your forehead.

You weren’t offended by Jaemin’s eagerness to speak on your behalf. You were just surprised that he didn’t run at the opportunity to explore the arcade with his friends. That was why he showed up, right? To spend time with Jisung.

Chenle hummed, “Ooooh, trouble in paradise!”

Jaemin ignored him. He explained through a nervous grin, “We can’t get tickets from playing laser tag. If we want that llama, we gotta stay focused!”

“What llama?” Mark asked. He received no answer.

Jisung’s eyes widened as he sucked on a piece of candy. “You’re not gonna pay tag?”

You didn’t withstand your brother’s disappointed stare because you wanted to win a silly stuffed animal. This was wrong. Now, you thought, you actually deserved your boyfriend’s disapproval. You enjoyed having Jaemin’s attention to yourself.

That’s why you grinned and cheered, “We gotta win that llama!” You earned a high five from Jaemin.

Teasing you must have lost its appeal. Wordlessly nodding, the boys set off to play laser tag. Jisung lingered, still staring at you. Realizing that Jisung would otherwise be left behind, Renjun ushered him away, muttering, “You’ll understand when you’re older.”

Neither of you spoke for a few minutes after Jaemin started another round of skeeball.

The silence ended when Jaemin said, “You don’t have to look so guilty.” His voice, softer than usual, was almost lost amid booming sound effects, laughter, and screams of triumph and despair. “Jisung won’t stay hung up on us for long. He’s pretty adaptable.”

You couldn’t explain that the twisting in your gut had little to do with the look you put on Jisung’s face. You couldn’t explain that spending this time with Jaemin was inappropriate. Then, you would have to stop out of respect for your never-present boyfriend.

And you didn’t want to stop. And you didn’t want to ruin the playful atmosphere. And you didn’t want to overwhelm Jaemin’s crush on you if it were as shallow as you imagined.

We’re just having fun, you argued to the nagging voice in the back of your mind.

The voice in your mind sounded a lot like the one booming in your ears, the voice of your boyfriend, the voice that stunned you stiff.

Those defensive thoughts weren’t just thoughts. They were stuttered excuses you forced through trembling lips as he glared down at you. His fingers dug into your arms so roughly that it would have hurt if you weren’t embarrassed—numb. Numb except for the agonizing thundering of your heart.

People were staring. People were listening to him scold you. “I wouldn’t have bothered coming to this stupid place if I’d known you were here to hook up with some stupid jerk you found at the claw machine.”

He cut his eyes at Jaemin, and you with the realization that you were not trapped in a dream turned nightmare. He wouldn’t disappear with the opening of your eyes. Yet, you blinked once, twice, thrice, in the hope that he would.

Jaemin was as stunned as you were. Dark maroon splotches formed on every visible inch of his skin. His chest rapidly rose and fell under his white t-shirt. His hands were clenched in tight fists pressed to his side. His jaw was forced shut, lips pressed into a thin line.

“He is not a stupid jerk.” Emboldened by the instinct to stand up for Jaemin, you didn’t shrink under your boyfriend’s cold, piercing stare. “And we aren’t even hooking up!” You liked Jaemin, and that perversion of your relationship made your hair stand on end. “He’s my friend.”

“Your friend.” Your boyfriend’s laugh was hollow. Again, he was going to remind you that nobody was interested in you. Jabbing a finger at Jaemin without breaking your eye contact, he accused, “He is no more interested in ‘friendship’ with you than I am.”

At some point, you would have believed it. At some point, those words would have hurt you. But they had been spoken so often that they lost their sting. He had always been like this— cruel— even when you tried to will yourself oblivious. Until now, you forced yourself to say whatever might guarantee temporary peace.

What was so different now?

Maybe now that you realized there were people like Jaemin who would enjoy your company without the promise of anything in return, you couldn’t subject yourself to mistreatment. Maybe Jaemin’s smile broke through the darkness your boyfriend insisted encompassed the entire world. Maybe Jaemin’s smile exposed your relationship’s emptiness. Maybe you finally understood that there was nothing there worth saving with forced silence.

“Let go of me.” You met your boyfriend’s eyes. Your voice wavered slightly because the words were unfamiliar in your mouth. “Go away. You don’t want anything to do with me, and I don’t want anything to do with you either. So just— just—”

The tears that pooled in his eyes were inauthentic. Although you recognized his deliberate attempt at manipulation, you couldn’t say the final word. You continued to tread that dangerous line between freedom and captivity, between apology and honesty, until he pushed you away.

You couldn’t even be relieved. He turned and towered over Jaemin, who was not intimidated by his size. Jaemin, who stood proudly when faced with the force that had been strangling you, extinguishing you for months.

“Ease up, dude,” your boyfriend growled.“I’m not gonna hit you.”

Jaemin did not change his posture, and your boyfriend clicked his tongue in annoyance. You flinched at the sound, and Jaemin didn’t bat an eyelash.

“Whatever,” your boyfriend spat. “You want her so badly?” Jaemin nodded, but your boyfriend didn’t notice. He turned to watch you crumble as he said, “Take her, then. I only went out with her because she begged me.”

You weren’t winded so much by what he said. You decided just moments ago that he could not determine your worth. But how could cruelty come so easily to anybody? How could he easily turn away from his latest attempt to break you when you could never work up the nerve to peacefully walk away from him? You couldn’t understand.

You couldn’t quite process the public breakup until you noticed that the once bustling arcade had gone silent. There were a few scattered whispers—all about you. The breakup was not quite real until you felt the eyes of strangers prying into you. The humiliation didn’t quite dawn on you until you met Jaemin’s gaze—overwhelmed, frightened, saddened.

Jaemin’s stare. That’s what drove you to seek solace on a bench under the moonlight sky.

The unseasonably cool blowing breeze reminded you that you never deserved to hold Jaemin’s attention. What had he even seen in you that day you stormed into the cafe to retrieve Jisung? You had been sweaty, irritable, and dismissive of his friendship with Jisung and his inexplicable interest in you. You were undesirable in appearance and in deed; yet Jaemin could smile at you. You couldn’t understand.

After that confrontation, he would never smile at you the same way. How weak must you have sounded, stuttering like a fool? How foolish must you have seemed for allowing someone so careless and cruel to stand close to your heart?

Weak. Foolish. Undesirable. Unworthy.

The words you thought of yourself were unfair and untrue, but you could not stop thinking them. In an effort to ignore the thoughts you couldn’t control, you pulled your phone out of your pocket. Gifsets were always guaranteed to brighten your mood.

Your phone only sowed your mood, though. After dismissing a wall of texts from your boyfriend—well, ex-boyfriend—you read a text from your friend. She sent you a screenshot of your ex’s Instagram account. He posted a picture of himself kissing another girl with the caption: ‘Guess I don’t have to keep the love of my life secret anymore. Guess we were both seeing other people.’

The screen went black, and you slammed the phone down at your side. After publicly accusing you of cheating with Jaemin, your ex revealed the reason why he never wanted you, why he preferred to go days without talking, and why he never wanted to spend any time with you. There was somebody else. The problem was never you. The problem was always him.

Somehow—deep down, or right at the surface—you had always known. Rather than feeling relieved or vindicated, you hated yourself for ignoring your parents and Jisung and the careful voice in your head that said, ‘let go, run.’ That careful voice started warning you long before you met Jaemin, long before you started falling for his smile slowly and then all at once. Why hadn’t you listened?

Footsteps slapped on the pavement from afar, and you sucked a breath in. Nobody could see you, not until you had worked through your storm of emotions. You tugged your legs, bare below your striped shorts, onto the bench and contorted to conceal yourself in the building’s shadow.

Jaemin found you with little effort. He wasted no time in running to you and sitting beside you as closely as he had at school days ago. His eyes were different now. They were wide with concern, no longer sparkling with mischief.

Unable to stand how he looked at you—like you were breaking—you crossed your arms over your knees and buried your face in the bend of your elbow. You begged, “Stop looking at me like that, Jaemin.”

Although he had done nothing wrong, Jaemin apologized. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry that happened, and I’m sorry I caused it—”

“You didn’t cause it.” Your urge to console Jaemin overwhelmed your urge to hide. You lowered your feet onto the concret. To comfort him, you rested your arm on the back of the bench, just behind his shoulders. “That guy—he’s always been a big—”

You wouldn’t have known how to describe your ex-boyfriend if your phone hadn’t interrupted you with a sharp buzz. Jaemin grabbed your phone, and the screen lit up in his hand.

Jaemin’s mouth fell open. “He—he had the nerve to scream at you in front of all those people when he’s been kissing—” Rage tightened around Jaemin’s vocal cords, and he shoved the phone back into the narrow space between your bodies. “I don’t get it. People like that—how do they get anyone to like them? And how can they just treat people—why do they— I—” He raked his fingers through his hair, drawing a deep ragged breath.

Staring up at the moon and willing your voice to stay even, you mumbled, “I don’t get it either. I guess—you know—I read once that we accept the love we think we deserve.”

Did you believe that line you found in a book? Is that why you could never break things off? Is that why you could never demand better for yourself?

Jaemin pulled his legs onto the bench and crossed them so he could face you fully. “Hey.” He reached for your hand. This time there was no playful grin when you didn’t flinch from his touch. Once you mirrored his posture to face him, he said, “You deserve better. A lot better. And by that, I don’t mean that you deserve me, even though I’d like—”

As if you weren’t leaning into his every word, Jaemin caught his tongue and stared down at his hand holding yours.

When words failed, you returned his small act of affection by curling your fingers around his hand. “I really want to deserve you, Jaemin. Someday soon.”

Had you given in to the desire to look at him, you would have seen his eyebrows knitting together as he said, “I don’t know what you mean. If it has anything to do with what that jerk said—”

“It doesn’t,” you said despite your failed efforts to silence his nagging voice in the corner of your mind. “You’re just so bright and beautiful, and I was quick to judge you for yelling at Jisung, and—”

He asked, “Wait, when did I—oh. Are you talking about when I got onto him that time after work?”

You nodded slowly, tracing over his knuckles. “And when you yelled at him over that video game.”

“You heard that?” At his feeble tone, you finally looked up at Jaemin. In the pale moonlight, his blush was a glowing pink. He scratched at the back of his neck with his free hand. “I’m sorry. I apologized to Jisung, too. I guess it’s not an excuse, but my temper isn’t all that great when I lose games. And that time after work—”

“I know you weren’t trying to bully him,” you said. “You were trying to help him improve. Now I know that you just like to nag—”

Jaemin huffed, “I do not nag!” You bit back laughter.

“— and I’m sorry that I misunderstood you. It’s not an excuse, but I’m protective of Jisung because he’s the most precious person in the world. I didn’t know that you knew that too. I’m sorry.”

Jaemin blinked, unsure of what to do with your apologies. He said, “I like that you’re protective of Jisung. I like that when some big jerk is yelling at you, you think to defend me from his stupid insults. That’s who you are, and it’s nothing to apologize for—especially because I like you.”

He liked you. After all of that chaos, Jaemin still liked you. Such a small word— like— meant so much. You couldn’t remember the last time someone who wasn’t Jisung said it to you and meant it. You didn’t try to fight the smile tugging at your lips.

If you were defined by your protectiveness of Jisung and Jaemin, then Jaemin was defined by buying pizza for his friends (and nagging about it), offering a hard-earned collection of 4,902 tickets to brighten your day with a cute stuffed animal, and holding your hand in the aftermath of utter humiliation.

You couldn’t keep the fact to yourself, and you didn’t want to: “I like you too, Jaemin.”

He looked at you. Silence hung in the air as you stood together on the edge of something new. Should you say something to define it? Would taking that dive dampen the chemistry that formed despite old oppressive labels?

You didn’t agonize long before Jaemin leaped off the bench and extended his hand to you. “Come on,” he implored, wearing that broad smile that gave your heart wings to soar from its broken restraints. “We gotta go win that llama!”

You didn’t hesitate to take his hand. You didn’t hesitate to seize the moment with him, wherever it led.

. . .

Had you expected there to be so many college-aged students sitting around and sipping down lattes and munching through muffins, you wouldn’t have rushed into the cafe from the chilly Autumn breeze. You would have held onto the sunshine yellow gift bag longer and sought Jaemin at school. You had been standing in line far too long to walk away without achieving your goal, so you stood in line until Jeno noticed you.

From behind the register, he called your name. He motioned you to the front, deaf to the groan of customers who resented your special treatment. He yelled into the kitchen, “Jaemin, it’s time for your break!” Jeno shot you a soothing thumbs-up and returned to serving customers.

“Huh?” Jaemin filled the doorway. His brow was furrowed and lips were pursed as he argued, “I’m not scheduled—”

He gasped at the sight of you. He removed his chocolate-stained cream apron and rounded the counter. Combing his fingers through his hair, he said, “Jisung isn’t here, you know.”

“I know.” You nodded. “I’m not here for Jisung.”

He asked, “Then why—”

Jaemin’s eyes fell on the gift bag, and he flashed his signature breath-taking smile. “Oh, I see!” He wagged a finger as he crossed the dark-tiled floor. He grabbed your hand and led you out into the golden afternoon.

You sat together on the bench outside of the cafe. Hugging you to his side, he beamed, “You couldn’t resist seeing me on my birthday!”

You teased, “For once, your delusions are spot on.” You clutched the gift bag and glanced around at the browning treeline. “Is this our thing, Nana? Sitting on benches and holding hands?”

A blush colored his face whenever you called him by his nickname. His blush never failed to tickle your heart. “Yep,” he hummed and laced his fingers (warm) through yours (cold). “I’m not gonna have to let go when I open that present, am I?”

His free hand reached out for the gift, and you couldn’t cling to it any longer. Sucking in a breath, you watched as he yanked out the white tissue paper. You released the breath only when his eyes sparkled while he freed the pink plush llama from the bag.

“Did you win this from the arcade?” Jaemin’s smile, already too big for this dull world, grew with the nod of your head.

“I can’t take all the credit.” You giggled when Jaemin touched the llama’s muzzle to your face again and again in time with the puckering of his lips. “The idea was all mine, but Jisung helped me earn the tickets. Obviously, we’re not as good at games as you are—” Jaemin winked at the flattery—“so that’s why the prize isn’t as big as the one you won for me once upon a time.”

Jaemin didn’t seem to think less of the gift because of its size. “This is the best birthday!” he yelled into the cloudy autumn sky. He released your hand only so he could hug the llama to his chest. “Thank you so much!”

Your heart softened. “You’re welcome!” Looking into the bag, you added, “I think there’s a card too.”

You didn’t think. You knew there was a card without having to look into the bag for the thousandth time that day. The card—more specifically, the note inside—was what made your nerves tremble.

Although you wanted some relief from the pounding of your heart, you couldn’t keep your eyes from admiring Jaemin’s face as he laughed at the silly googly-eyed puppy on the card’s front. You couldn’t keep your gaze focused on the llama lying face up in his lap. You had to watch the lines deepen around his smile when his eyes darted up after studying your handwriting.

“Ooooh,” Jaemin whistled at having caught you studying him. “You have a crush on me!”

You started, “I—”

“And you can’t deny it!” He flipped the card, and you were faced with your curly pink lettering. Finally, too embarrassed, you looked away. He boasted, “Here it is in writing!”

Were Jaemin anyone else in the world, he would have been cruel. He cleared his throat and prepared to read your confession aloud. He pressed his cloud-soft palm to yours as he recited, “‘Nana, I never thought you would become my best friend’— after Jisung, I’m assuming— ‘And I never imagined that someone so bright and beautiful could exist in my life and steal my heart, but you have. You have, and I love you, and I’m ready to tell you.’”

Jaemin looked at you again, this time without any trace of playfulness. This time, he waited for you to catch your breath.

He was good at waiting for you. He had been from the day you stomped into the cafe. He proved his patience over the last few months by giving you all the pleasures of friendship—all the joys of having an adorable boy to text at any hour, to laugh with too loudly at lunch, to sit with on two-person benches until seconds turned into minutes that turned into hours. He didn’t seem tired of waiting for your romance to start because, really, it had already started.

But you were tired of waiting to call him yours. You admitted, “It’s not a crush, Jaemin. I’m in love with you.”

He must not have been surprised. He didn’t gasp, his eyes didn’t widen, and he didn’t miss a beat before responding, “I really want to be your boyfriend. I don’t need the title to love you too, obviously, but I want it as soon as you’re ready. Please.”

You had been ready for a while, but you forced yourself to wait for Jaemin. While Jaemin probably thought that you were testing his devotion, that couldn’t have been further from the truth. Contrary to Jisung’s assumption (that you were waiting for certainty of your feelings), you did not once doubt the butterflies that had not stopped fluttering in your belly since you started cuddling with the mint-green llama to fall asleep.

Maybe nobody else could understand that you were waiting for the wounds inflicted by your ex-boyfriend to heal. You never again wanted to bleed on Jaemin. You were waiting for the day that you could be as bright as the sun too.

That day had finally come, so you wasted no time in promising, “Okay, Nana. I’m ready.”

Jaemin didn’t as for any clarification or justification of your feelings. Maybe he was afraid that you would change your mind if you were asked to repeat yourself. Maybe he sensed your confidence. After pumping a celebratory fist in the air, he wore a victorious grin. You couldn’t resist capturing his smile in a long-awaited whisper of a kiss.

BONUS SCENE:

“You’re almost as dangerous in the kitchen as Jisung is,” Jaemin fussed. He knocked you away from the oven by bumping your hips with his own. He made a spectacle of pulling canary yellow oven mitts over his hands. “These keep you from getting burned by 350° cookie sheets, silly!”

You rolled your eyes at the reprimand while Jaemin pulled the chocolate chip cookies out of the oven and gingerly set them on the counter. “Yeah, yeah,” you huffed. You were accustomed to his eagerness to show you up anywhere and everywhere, especially in the kitchen, where years of experience at the cafe gave him a clear advantage.

After turning the oven off and closing its door, Jaemin pointed and giggled at your pout. “Aw, don’t be sulky, baby!” He dropped the oven mitts into their drawer. Crossing the distance between you in two steps, he pressed his palms flat on the countertop at your sides. He lowered his face to be level with yours. “You’re kinda cute when you pout, though.”

Butterflies fluttered in your stomach as Jaemin’s breath ghosted your lips. It wasn’t fair that you were always the breathless one. Quickly, before he could act first, you stretched to brush your lips against his.

His chocolate-flavored gasp was a short-lived reward. Always ready to adapt, always searching for a way to tease you, Jaemin was quick to turn your sweet, playful kiss into something that made your skin burn scarlet and your legs turn to jelly.

“Ah!” Jisung screamed, and you pushed Jaemin away with all of your strength. Jisung never failed to slap a hand over his eyes after catching you deep in a kiss with Jaemin. His discoveries were growing in frequency, and his tolerance was wearing thin. He groaned, “No place is safe! Not the cafe— not even during work hours. Not the car when you two pick me up after school—”

Jaemin suggested, “You could take the bus!”

Jisung continued, “Not the arcade. Definitely not the movie theater after last time. Now, not the kitchen! Now, I can’t even walk around my own home without getting jumpscared!”

Because Jisung rarely raised his voice, you were stunned silent. Jaemin, meanwhile, encouraged him, “You can walk around. Maybe just knock on doors first.”

“There isn’t a door!” Jisung pressed his back against a wall and gestured to the empty archway connecting the living room to the kitchen. “And you’re missing the point!”

“What is the point?” You hoped to make Jisung the target of Jaemin’s teasing. When Jisung dropped the hand covering his eyes to gawk at you, you wrapped your arms around Jaemin’s waist and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I thought you wanted me to like Jaemin.”

“Not like this!” Jisung’s whine struck a devilish spark in Jaemin’s eyes. Your mission was a success: Jaemin’s eyes fixed on your little brother.

Frowning, Jaemin leaned into your embrace. “That’s not what you said when you gave me permission to ask her out!”

Jisung cried, “I thought she would reject you again!”

When Jaemin gasped and pretended to faint in your arms, you laughed. You asked, “Well, Jisung, will any of my boyfriends meet your standards?”

“I don’t care that you’re dating.” Jisung tore his eyes away from Jaemin’s theatrics to root through the cabinets in search of a snack. The tips of his ears were blistered pink. “It’s just—the PDA—”

“Here.” Jaemin offered him a cookie. “It’s not PDA if we’re not in public.”

“Not this time,” Jisung grumbled through his mouthful of sugar. He asked you, “When do you think you’ll get tired of kissing Jaemin? I need to know when I can start walking around with my eyes open again.”

Jaemin climbed onto the granite countertop and poked out his bottom lip. “Yeah! When are you gonna get tired of me?”

There was only one way to answer.

“Never, of course!” You cheered before pecking at Jaemin’s smiling lips.

“Shameless!” Jisung shrieked, running out of the kitchen with a handful of cookies. “Absolutely shameless!”

You and Jaemin shared in the golden laughter that colored your every day together.

251 notes · View notes