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kivino · 1 month ago

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PROBLEM I || HIGURUMA HIROMI X COWORKER!READER

sum. You have quite a crush on your coworker, but don’t know how to approach it. The opportunity to do something presents itself when you both get invited for drinks after not-so-voluntary overtime.

tags. Suggestive themes, so MDNI; Canon divergent; Higuruma and reader work at a law firm; Japanese work culture is a warning in itself; Reader is a foreigner in Japan but it’s a little glazed over; fluff; cigarettes; alcohol consumption, obviously; Higuruma is a lightweight and a dork, I stand by that.

w.c. 3.4-ish

a.n. I’ve been having this Higuruma itch that needed a scratch (save me overworked lawyer disappointed in the justice system, save me), so I wrote this little fic! Plus forced myself to omit all the Japanese honorifics used cause apparently you kids find it cringe (/lh). Enjoy, and please, reblog/leave a comment, I really want to know what you all think and if I should continue writing for JJK. I’m planning to make a part two for this, so stay tuned!

jjk masterlist || cod masterlist || ao3 link to this fic || ko-fi

You feel completely lost. Not even lost, abandoned by your consciousness. And not in the tall pillars of paperwork on your desk, that threatened to fall over with a single blow of air from the AC blasting over your desk, as you should be. No-no-no, you’re lost in Hiromi’s deep, almost pitch-black eyes, so mesmerizing that you felt like you were falling right into their endless, warm void. Well, you were not supposed to be calling him Hiromi, it was Higuruma for you. “For now.” – you encouraged yourself. You’ll get there with him. Eventually.

It only occasionally occurs to you that you were behaving like a dreamy-eyed middle-schooler…again. All that development of your frontal lobe goes right smack-dab into the trash when you notice those tired eyes stop on you for a split second as Higuruma gives you a polite nod with his lips twitching upwards, almost attempting a smile. Even in spite of the sheer exhaustion he is exuding all around.

You don’t even have to look at him to notice how tired the man is – when you come into work, fifteen minutes earlier, just like everyone else in your firm, you see him sitting in his chair already, reading endless police reports, typing away on his computer, arranging for meetings with witnesses or clients. Even when you are heading for the elevator, calling out “Good job today” to the last people left in the office, hurrying for your last train home – Hiromi is glued to his visibly uncomfortable chair, his head almost bumping into keyboard as he wrestled with the sleep clouding his eyes. And even if you don’t see him around his desk – he is probably out somewhere, hounding for evidence on the case.

Or in the smoking room. God, after you realize where Hiromi spends at least thirty minutes a day, you consider picking up smoking just to have an excuse to get to know him better. He’s definitely a bad influence on you.

But how can he not be? You physically can’t stop yourself from staring at him when you see him through the glass door of the smoking room, leaned on the wall, droopy half-lidded eyes looking up at the ceiling, dark long lashes pretty as a picture. You can’t help but imagine these puffy eyes tearing up or rolling into the back of his head along with his mouth falling open in a delicious silent plea; or looking down on you with mad fixation that would make liquid heat pool between your thighs.

And you won’t even get started on his nose. The graceful arch of it, the perfect angle to…You stop before you stray too far, instead letting your mind wander to those beautiful eyes once more, intense and overwhelming, picturing desire clouding them until there is nothing but scorching fire burning up your skin, accompanied by Hiromi’s soft sighs, raspy whines or gentle praise, with those incredible voice cracks he would develop when he was oh-so-exhausted after a long day… you wonder how he would sound, as you grasp and store away in your memory each time your name is called by Higuruma.

Your eyes find your coworker once again at his desk, his deft hands are typing something out on the computer. You can see the way Hiromi’s fingers move, and your thoughts immediately settle on the image of them gently running over your thigh, hooking at the belt loops just to pull you into his warm, frail, charmingly pathetic form. You сan practically melt into a puddle, when your mind gets to his warm, large palms settling on your hips, setting electric currents running right to you brain, when the object of your fantasies suddenly catches your eyes on him. You can feel your heartbeat fall down somewhere to your feet – you’ve been caught! But before you can see how Higuruma reacts…

“Ah, Shimizu! Well done today!” you say with a polite nod to your coworker who emerges right in front of your desk, visibly ready to go home after yet another day’s grueling overtime – cute, mindful bag in her hand, work costume wrinkled after hours of sitting in one place; interrupting your session of staring at your higher-up. Which is probably for the best, you think. You are new compared to everyone else, you are supposed to be working twice as harder, not dedicating your time to undressing the poor, exhausted Higuruma with your eyes. All of a sudden, you feel shame burn at your cheeks. Just a tiny little bit.

“Oh, not at all, you’re too kind!” Shimizu denies the praise with the dismissive wave of her hand, but you can see that she’s just being polite because you don’t know each other too well. “Yet” – You add in your mind. You’ll be accepted here, you just need a little time. “How are you settling in? Everyone’s nice to our cute kouhai I hope?”

“Oh, yes! Everyone’s very kind! I’m looking forward to working and getting along with everyone in the future!” You say and add another small bow for emphasis – even though you are already hired it was instrumental to make the right impression on your coworkers.

“That’s great to hear! About that actually…” You tense up for a moment, already running millions of possible scenarios through your mind. Did someone write you up or complain? That would be very typical for what you were used to here – no direct confrontation with you, instead an anonymous complaint made to HR and you’re out of here faster than you can apologize. Or maybe it’s a complaint from Higuruma himself, fed up with being stared at like he was a piece of meat, by “the foreigner” of the firm no less. You can feel your legs shake under a flimsy desk. “We’re going out for drinks! You’re going, right?”

Okay, false alarm. You are prepared for something like this. Shimizu was obviously putting you in a position where you’re not supposed to decline…But you were so tired, and the workload this week was just horrible, along with all the hours of overtime you did-

“Oh, and Higuruma’s going too.”

Come to think of it, you actually feel pretty energized and ready to go. You don’t catch the cheeky smile Shimizu sends over her shoulder to the previously mentioned man, and the most precious, thankful look he gives her in response.

“I-I suppose it wouldn’t hurt...” you mutter, trying your hardest not to seem as desperate as you are in actuality, to have an opportunity to finally get to know Hiromi somewhere outside work. This work crush has been driving you up the wall for too long, might as well start acting on it, if it’s here to stay. Maybe you’ll get to be friends with Hiromi, and that will resolve your yearning for him. It always dissipates when the person you desire is right by your side.

However, you don’t get an opportunity for a one-on-one with Higuruma that you hoped for until much later in the night. You caught stray looks from him multiple times, but each time Hiromi met your eyes he would look away in an instant, with his neck turning so hard you were half-sure you could hear it crack. It felt pretty discouraging, looking at him silently pour the drinks down the hatch from the other side of the table, without even attempting to talk to you, while others were trying their best to make you feel welcome. Hiromi just made you so…confused.

So, you decide to step out for a moment, lost in your thoughts. Lo and behold, there is the man of the hour himself, leaned up against the wall with a cigarette between his fingers. You are surprised at how he can stand up straight, after all these drinks he consumed without eating anything (and you’re pretty sure you didn’t see him eat lunch either), but you just settle on the fact that Hiromi might just be like that – a mystery to you. His face is barely illuminated by the low light pouring out of the windows of the izakaya, a slight flush on his tan cheeks making your mind travel places.

“Can I have one?” You blurt out, before you can stop yourself. Oh, this is so stupid. You can feel your face heat up, and not even a gentle autumn breeze is able to cool you down at the moment. Oh, you were so about to screw up all of this. Nevertheless, you slowly approach him, as Hiromi’s head slowly turns to you and you can see a corner of his mouth twitch when he registers it’s you speaking. Huh. Interesting.

“I didn’t know you smoked.” Hiromi mumbles, taking a pack out of his pocket, clumsy fingers struggling to pull out a cigarette for you. Well, he wouldn’t have the opportunity to see you smoke, since you only did that if you were drunk or stressed out. “I never saw you in the smoking room. Though, saw you pass by. Quite a lot.” Higuruma continues rambling, his head tilted forwards, eyes unsure and watery, staring up from under his eyebrows, focused solely on you. You can practically feel yourself getting hypnotized by the absolutely charming puppy dog eyes Hiromi is giving you, to the point of not noticing the man offering you the cig you just asked for a couple of seconds ago.

“Uh, yeah. Guilty as charged.” You chuckle, not finding anything better to say, as you gently take what you’re offered. The silence falls over both of you, as your lips squeeze the “cancer stick” between them, Higuruma now fumbles to find a lighter. Well, it’s your chance to talk, but you, sadly, find yourself lost for words.

Hiromi, much like yourself, cannot find the courage to speak up, as his eyes keep trailing back to your face, now more stunning than ever, surrounded by the blue air of the night instead of synthetic fluorescent lights of the office that rarely do justice to your beauty. He definitely overdid it with the liquid courage. Now he can’t muster up a thought to strike up a conversation with you. And it was supposed to be a chance for him to get to know you better, in an informal way. Way to go, you absolute nutjob.

“You seem to be a very hard worker, Higuruma. I thought you’d stay for overtime instead of going out for drinks.” You finally say what’s on your mind, when you see Hiromi can’t seem to find the lighter he’s been looking for, for the past minute, maybe.

“Well, first I was staying so long because of work, and now it’s because of you.” Hiromi blurts out with his eyes looking right at you. When the man finally realizes what he just said, his eyes are immediately drawn downwards, avoiding yours.

“What?” You look at him, for a moment thinking that your hearing gave up on you. Higuruma didn’t just say what you heard him say, right?

“What?” Hiromi’s tone is neutral and even calm, but behind it he was panicking. Why in the hell did he just say that?! He definitely weirded you out and now everything will fall apart, all thanks to his absolute inability to handle his liquor better. “I mean, you need someone to look at while you work, right? Might as well be me.” What was he talking about? If you weren’t standing right in front of him, so perfect and beautiful in the dim lights, with your hair exquisitely disheveled, and his eyes getting drawn to your figure in all the right places, his hands would definitely fly up to his face in exasperation at his sheer stupidity.

“You’re funny.” You finally chuckle out in a hushed tone, like you were saying something absolutely scandalous, and not just bashfully stating your opinion.

“No, I’m just drunk.” He states rather bluntly, and you’re taken aback for a moment. “I’m actually a lightweight. Without...” Higuruma makes a vague gesture with his hand, which you take as him referring to the copious amounts of alcohol running through his blood at the moment. “…I’d be too scared to talk to you.”

“Huh? Why would you be scared to talk to me?” You respond with yet another breathy laugh, feeling an incredibly strong surge of confidence, hearing that the whole time this grown man was scared of approaching you – polite and shy newbie, deeply infatuated with…everything about him. Which, Hiromi was so luckily and obviously unaware of.

“You’re just…” The unintentional pause is much shorter than it feels like, as a sudden hiccup interrupts his heartfelt confession. “Very…gorgeous. But uh…in a professional sense.” You can hear an uneven crack in Higuruma’s voice, and if for someone else it would’ve been a turn-off, you can already feel how breathing suddenly becomes a thing you need to be aware of. “Or whatever.”

“Or whatever?” You echo, with an amused smile tugging at your lips, as an idea dawns on you out of the blue. “Higuruma, could you…” you trail off, immediately bringing his attention to whatever you were about to ask of him. Oh, he was ready to do anything you’d ask. Jump? With pleasure. Drop down to his knees? Gladly. Kiss you? Please.

He freezes in place, as you lean closer to him, a surge of previously known, but supressed feelings rising with a tremble in his chest. The end of your cigarette touches a little burning cherry at the end of his, your eyes slowly drift up to his own, producing an incomprehensible, fiery spark when your gazes meet. Higuruma almost thinks the ground disappeared from under his feet right that moment, because in little less than a second of staring into your eyes like that, alluring, precious gemstones pulling him in with a siren’s song, he’s falling. Hard.

Hiromi’s face doesn’t hide even a sliver of what he’s experiencing at the moment, as he looks at you in awe, half-way sure that his heart is about to burst in a million of pieces while you’re lighting your cigarette with his. He wishes this moment would go on forever. He wished you’d reach out to him, throw out the damn cigarettes, close the miniscule distance that felt like kilometres and kiss him, so hard he’d surely loose his mind for you completely.

The seconds feel like hours, electricity and warmth bouncing inside of him, while cold air blows on his skin, failing to cool him down from the mad high he was experiencing just from your presence, so distant and at the same time, close.

“Thanks.” You mutter a short response, tactfully making a point not to mention the way his face got even redder (which you didn’t think was possible, yet here you are). Your lips wrap around the cigarette, inhaling the smoke, the slight hit of nicotine dulling your senses for a moment making you flutter your eyelashes in pleasure.

“You’re always…a problem.” He responds, quietly, and you arch your brow at his strange response. Higuruma immediately looks horrified as it dawns on him just what exactly he said in his…rather unsuccessful attempt to articulate his thoughts, as you mumble out an unsure “excuse me?”. Hiromi’s hands fly up to meet his face, exasperated sigh leaving his lips. Why did he always had to be…like this? He was confident and easily able to keep a cool head in the courtroom, faced with people representing and facing justice. Why, why was he losing face in front of you of all people? It was frankly frustrating, and he…

“Ha-ha-ha…I am, aren’t I?” You return playfully, seeing the sheer distress on Hiromi’s face and deciding to play off his probably unintentional slip-up as a joke. He didn’t, couldn’t mean what he said, right? He was always friendly (even if a little distant, but who weren’t like that to new, unfamiliar people, right?), polite…Unless?

“No! No! That’s not what I was trying to say…” Hiromi immediately corrects himself, a little too eager to fix the mistake he’s sure might cost him your precious attention at the moment. He can’t lose it. He absolutely cannot wait until the next drinking party to get close to you. It already feels like too much - keeping himself in reigns, containing the burn that threatens that spill over from the mere gaze that felt too intimate for his drunk consciousness.

Well…not that you aren’t an actual problem. It’s hard to concentrate whenever you are in the room. Higuruma’s eyes would inevitably drift over to you, observing every motion of your form, desperate for any sliver of attention from you. Didn’t matter if it was a polite nod, a quick half-bow or a smile, he always felt a dull ache in his chest, because that was not enough to satiate the hunger for you, cramping up in his insides, making him feel like he was utterly starved. And he definitely was. For affection, for gentle touch, for a soothing hand and for tenderness that came with it. Yeah, you were definitely a problem. One that needed an immediate solution.

“I was trying to say that…you’re always welcome and it’s not a problem. At the same time.” He finally managed to mutter out, explaining himself. A smile grazes your lips at that, and he can’t help himself but think how he wants be graced by the beauty of that smile first thing when he wakes up the morning. That would make going to sleep at night so much easier.

“Well, I’m glad that you don’t think I’m a problem then.” You say with a tiny laugh. Well, Hiromi didn’t exactly say that, but….

“Of course not. You’re…” Higuruma stops for a moment, before a sudden hiccup shakes his form. You stifle a chuckle from how cute for some reason it was, to hear a frown man hiccupping much like an overfed kitten. “Very hard-working. A good addition to the team.” He gives you a verdict with a nod, further solidifying his words. At that point, he wasn’t even sure what he was talking about, but that’s the first chance he ever got to talk to you informally, and by God, he’s going to make use of it. “If you ask me, you’ve got what it takes to be a great permanent addition.” To him, a sudden thought rushed through his mind, but he managed to keep his lips sealed.

“I appreciate what you’re saying, Higuruma.” You say with another one of your pleasant smiles and nods to him, taking another drag of your cigarettes and blowing the smoke out to the side, blissfully unaware of how Hiromi’s droopy, desperate eyes fixated on the pout of your lips. You were truly thankful he had this opinion, but life-time contracts? Here? As a foreigner? It would be easier for you to get to the moon and back, than receive an offer like that.

“You know you can just call me Hiromi, right?” He almost whispered, not daring to meet your eyes after such a bold move on his part. You felt your heart leap inside your chest. If you weren’t right in front of the man, you’d start kicking your feet, giggling, then you’d scream in a pillow, run a couple of laps, high-five yourself and finally face-plant into the asphalt victoriously, but you were a responsible adult, so you had to keep those teenage-esque urges inside of yourself. Despite how much you wanted to let them out at times.

“Alright then…Hiromi.” You knew what you’re doing to him. You had to, right? Because how can your voice can get so alluring and sultry all of a sudden while saying his name? Why did you whisper it, rolling it around between your pretty lips, almost like you were tasting a candy? Higuruma was a goner, that’s for sure.

Higuruma can’t help, but look into your eyes, marvel at you smile and the way your eyes glimmer in the low lighting, how the perfect curve of your lips calls for him, and how your hips beg to rest his hands on them. In that moment he only can think with nothing but his heart, that keeps shoving the thought that rest like honey on his tongue.

He needs you. Utterly and completely.

“So…do you want to have another drink? On me, of course.”

Hiromi takes his shot, and he’s not going to miss it.

check out this masterlist for more jjk fics or send me a request/comment! you can also support me on ko-fi

#jjk fluff #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk fanfic #jjk fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk x you #higuruma hiromi #hiromi jjk #hiromi x reader #higuruma x reader #hiromi higuruma x reader #jjk higuruma #jujutsu kaisen higuruma

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sanrolii · 10 months ago

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megumi is no stranger to sleepless nights. ever since he was a child he had been plagued by them. he would get nightmares, ones that woke him up in a panic, and kept him up for hours on end. now a high schooler, he still gets the occasional nightmare, but now most sleepless nights are simply because his own mind just won’t shut up.

so that’s how he finds himself, at 1:37 in the morning, standing at your dorm entrance, knocking on the door and praying to any god listening that you’ll let him in.

just come in, i’m too tired to get up 🙃

he smiles softly at your text, and slowly opens the door, avoiding causing any loud noises. last thing he needs right now is to be scolded by a teacher, or even worse, teased by gojo for sneaking into his girlfriend’s dorm in the middle of the night.

“sorry for waking you up like this.” he mutters softly as he crawls into your bed with you, making himself at home in your sheets. you sit up slowly, just barely making out the soft features of your boyfriends face in the little moonlight draining in through the window.

“don’t worry about it.” you shake your head and put a hand on his face, cupping his jaw. “you’re more important to me than sleep anyways.” your heartfelt words make the black haired boy flush softly under your touch. “what’s keeping you up?”

megumi just shrugs, leaning into your warm touch. “just can’t seem to stop overthinking.”

you hum softly. “restless thoughts, huh?” he nods, eyes closed. how is it he could already feel so relaxed by just being in your presence?

“how about we just lay down and go from there? if you want to talk about it you can, otherwise we can just try getting back to sleep, okay?”

“yeah, okay.” and so he lays, head against your chest and legs intertwined, as you run your hands through his hair, nails running softly down his scalp to his neck and over the thin t-shirt on his back.

“so, is it something in particular that’s occupying your mind?” you whisper in megumi’s ear, trying to relax him further with your voice.

“not really. just stressed i guess, between classes, training, and going on missions, there’s not a lot of time to just sit and relax, and it just got to me:” you sigh softly, kissing his head as it lays on your collarbone.

“well good thing tomorrow is the weekend, so we can stay in here and relax for as long as you want.” you can feel megumi nod against you.

“yeah…that sounds great.” he tilts his head up, meeting his lips with yours, pulling away after a few seconds, already feeling his eyes grow heavy.

“tired already?” you chuckle at the young man who just ten minutes ago had probably been tossing and turning in his own bed, unable to sleep. he only nods, leaving a small kiss to your collarbone.

megumi is no stranger to sleepless nights, but now he has you, the love of his life, who can calm the raging storm within his mind, lulling him to sleep without even trying.

#jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #megumi fushiguro #jjk megumi #megumi x reader #megumi fluff #fushiguro x reader #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff #fushiguro fluff

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stevesbipanic · 4 months ago

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@steddieangstyaugust Day 10: "Where were you?"

Steve didn't need anyone.

He learnt that from a young age. Back when his parents told him he was a big boy now at the ripe age of eight. No more nannies, no more parents.

It didn't matter that he needed to stand on a stool to reach the stove, or that he couldn't reach the first aid kit when he burnt his hand. He didn't complain when the cupboards were empty and he smashed open his piggy bank and rode his bike all the way to the store, he's sure his mom would give him more when they got back.

Steve didn't need anyone when he won the championship game in middle school. Tommy got the team to lift him up on his shoulders and it felt just as good as if his parents had come.

Steve obviously didn't need anyone but it felt nice when a girl smiled at him, kissed him touched him, and made his bed feel less cold. He didn't need Nancy, it felt like he almost did but love is bullshit and he doesn't need that either.

Steve didn't need more friends, friends were stupid and cruel, but maybe friends could be goofy middle schoolers, it's not like he needed them if they ever got tired of him. He certainly didn't need another best friend, but he'd rather die than let Robin be hurt and maybe he doesn't need people but Robin is more than just a person to him so maybe that's ok.

Steve definitely doesn't need anyone to love him.

Love is cold homes and empty shelves.

Love is black eyes and spilt punch.

Steve doesn't need anyone. He certainly doesn't need Eddie. But Eddie needs him right now, he needs him to get him out of hell, to sit by his bedside, to drive him home.

Steve doesn't need anyone but he does want people to stick around. He wants the kids to call him for anything because he wants to be there for them. He wants Robin to always be by his side at every job they work. He wants Eddie in his bed, holding his hand and in his heart.

He doesn't need anyone but he wants to leave the past behind. He wants to pack up boxes with his boyfriend and pack them into a van and leave it all behind.

He doesn't need his parents anymore, and maybe that's why they finally show up. He doesn't need them he's all grown up. There's only one thing to ask.

"Where were you?"

He doesn't need the answer, he can hop in the van and watch the house fade into the distance, he finds he doesn't want the answer, not anymore.

He found the love he needs, wants and cherishes, and didn't need anyone but the ones who loved him just the same.

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steddieangstyaugust #speaking saturday #where were you #angst #steve harrington has bad parents

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ihavethedreamies · 8 months ago

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Banana | Juicy Fruit | Jeno

Lee Jeno - NCT Dream

Rating: M (18+) MDNI

Word Count: ~1.9k

Pairing: Jeno x AFAB!Reader

Genre: Reader-Insert, Smut, Established Relationship, Porn without Plot

!!This is smut…if that much isn't clear you should probably leave now!! MDNI!

Warnings: She/Her Pronouns used, Swearing, Kissing, Oral (M! Receiving), Deep Throating/Face-Fucking, Daddy Kink (oopsie), Soft Dom! Jeno, Big Dick! Jeno, Sex on the Coffee Table, Sex on the Floor, Unprotected Sex (Don’t!!)

Summary: Bananas are already sexually viewed, let alone when you add some chocolate syrup…

Author's Note: This series was supposed to be of drabbles, but as you can see this is way too long to be considered that.

This is only vaguely based off of Smoothie…I say this because I got the idea for a fruit theme, but past that its unrelated.

-> Series Hub <-

🍉 Mark 🍉

🍇 Renjun 🍇

🍒 Haechan 🍒

🍑 Jaemin 🍑

🍓 Chenle 🍓

🍍 Jisung 🍍

I am cross-posting this on Archive and Wattpad. Please reblog! If you know anyone that would like this or future fics but they aren't on here my name and icon are exactly the same on the other sites. Happy reading!

You almost never ate a banana. Even if you did, you preferred it cut up with some other fruits and berries. Eating a banana in a…normal way, often led to giggles and dirty thoughts. Mostly because all of your friends were men in their early-twenties but still acted like middle schoolers. So, in the privacy of your own home, you finally allowed yourself to eat the yellow fruit. When Jeno came over to spend the weekend, your boyfriend noticed the bundle on your kitchen counter. They were still a little green on the ends which meant you had gotten them recently. He sniggered a bit immediately, imagining you eating one. He laughed more because he could see your stern glare, aimed at him to warn him not to say anything. It was incredibly unlikely you would eat one like a "normal" person, which was good for him for two reasons. One, he wouldn't have to worry about making fun of your snack choice, and two he wouldn't have to deal with the consequence of your beating him up for said teasing.

"Princess?" He called out to you, you were probably in your room. Normally when he came over you would be waiting in the living room, but you were nowhere in sight.

"I'm in the bathroom!" He heard your reply in the distance, so he went down the hall, the door to said room open. When he peaked around the doorframe, you were sitting on the edge of the tub. There was a shallow pool of water filling the basin, both of your feet resting inside.

"You okay?" He sat next to you, just facing the other way. Jeno touched the water with his finger and cringed at the cold.

"I spilled my coffee…" You huffed sheepishly, your boyfriend cooed at you in pity.

"Oh, princess." He turned more toward you, so he was able to rest the side of his jaw on your shoulder. His soft black hair tickled your cheek as you rested it on the crown of his head.

"I think they soaked long enough. I don't think they're burned." You moved to pull your feet out and he stood so he could help you. Even the soles hurt since the hot liquid had puddled and you stepped in it while trying to recoil. When Jeno saw you wince he sneered at your feet, how dare they hurt you. You let out a soft yelp as his arms easily lifted you like the princess, he treated you as and he carried you to the living room. Gently letting you down on the couch he asked if you wanted a snack.

"I got some bananas, could you get me one and the bottle of chocolate syrup?" You motioned toward the kitchen, and he eagerly left to get it, trying to hide his expression. If he was too obvious about forcing himself not to watch you eat, you would notice, but at the same time, if he did watch, you would also notice. He was in a pickle…which then made him thinking about eating a pickle and his brain was unraveling in his skull. As he looked at the bundle of bananas to find the best looking one, he snickered to himself as he picked the biggest one out and then got the bottle of chocolate sauce out of the fridge. He came back with your requested snack as well as your box of Rice Krispie Treats. You had already put on some drama you had been casually rewatching and he tried to occupy himself with eating his snack. You peeled the yellow fruit about halfway, the peel flopping over your hand. Jeno watched out of the corner of his eye as you popped the lid of the bottle open and drizzled the syrup onto the fruit. He was insanely glad that at least the liquid was the color it was, it would be all over but the crying if it was white. A scene caught your attention, so you just held it in your hand, the chocolate dripping down over the pale yellow and your boyfriend's head started to swim. Were you planning this? Maybe not, because when you finally took a bite, it was aggressive, and it made him cringe. That helped at least. You made it worse again though because you halted your next bite midway through, just having your lips wrapped around it, enamored with the scene. He did not care, nor did he remember what was playing, his eyes too focused on your mouth. The chocolate had mixed some with your saliva and thinned to the point it dripped, missing the peel and landing on your hand. You grunted in realization, pulling the fruit out, light teeth marks left, and licked the chocolate off your hand. You must have felt his gaze because your eyes flicked up to meet his and he chuckled, trying to mask his smoldering gaze with humor.

"You're going to make a mess." He playfully scolded and you were fooled by his ruse. You sneered back in jest and made an annoyed noise as the syrup began to flow down the banana more. Jeno had to bite his tongue not to groan when your tongue left your mouth to lick up the banana, catching the chocolate so it didn't drip any further. You were going to kill him if you kept going. The final straw was when you put nearly half of the rest of the banana in your mouth, trying to eat it faster to prevent more mess. Before you could actually take the bite though, it was yanked from your grasp, landing on the coffee table with a splat. You shouted in despair at the loss, but your boyfriend's tongue soon replaced the banana. Your upset whine turned to a moan, falling back eagerly when Jeno climbed over you, pressing you into the couch. Worked perfectly. You thought to yourself. Jeno's tongue licked over every inch of your mouth, tasting your fruity snack. As he pulled back from the kiss, he sucked on your tongue, then propped himself up to loom over you.

"Floor." He ordered, his tone instantly going hard, making your cunt clench. You scrambled to follow the command, kneeling obediently at his feet as he stood at the end of the coffee table. You watched with great interest as he unbuttoned his jeans and pulled the zipper down, revealing his hard cock to you. You licked your lips, and he huffed as you eagerly opened your mouth wide, tongue out.

"You planned this, didn't you?" Your boyfriend groaned softly as he let the head of his cock rest on your tongue. You hummed in agreement as he slowly entered your mouth, your lips and tongue expertly stroking his cock. When the head met the back of your mouth, he waited to hear you suck in air through your nose, then continued. You sat like a good girl, just letting Jeno fuck your mouth, whining slightly when your nose finally touched the skin of his pelvis. You swallowed, fighting back gags, holding your breath as best you good. Your eyes flicked to his and he smirked, beginning to move his hips. Your purposefully let a great deal of drool pool in your mouth, strands of saliva coating his cock and dripping to the floor. He loved when you were messy. His gaze flicked to the discarded banana on the table and he much preferred seeing his dick in your mouth than the fruit. You took his thrusts like a champ, practice made perfect. You loved when he did that just as much as he did, the power and dominance he had over you through the act made your head swim as well as the lack of air. Jeno could hear your breathing getting ragged, trying desperately to suck in air whenever his cock was far enough out of your throat, but your eyes were watering, face getting red. Luckily, he was close. Your eyes met his again and he waited till you inhaled as much as possible, then buried his cock completely and came down your throat. You swallowed aggressively to get his load down but not gag at the same time. When he finally pulled back and out, your lungs wept in relief as you panted. Your throat was raw, spasming to compensate for the abuse it just took. So, you didn't have to get up, Jeno met you on the floor, helping you kneel differently so you could bend over and rest on the coffee table. Your breaths were still heavy as he pulled your shorts down just enough, the fat head of his still hard cock meeting your soaked cunt. You nearly came when he had, he could tell by the way your core was clenching around nothing.

"Fuck, princess~" Jeno groaned as he sunk inside of you, as hot, tight, and wet as always. He loved watching your little pussy take his big cock as your little body shook under his big one. Your finger nails tried to dig into the glass of the coffee table to no avail. As soon as he bottomed out, you came, he could feel the characteristic squeeze. Your boyfriend started as your orgasm faded, your hips knocking into the lip of the table, and it would have hurt a lot more if it wasn't rounded. The glass under you began to fog at the heat of your body and from your panting breaths. Your eyes lazily fixed on the discarded banana from earlier, a fallen soldier who performed it's job so well.

"Fuck!" You gasped when Jeno's hands pulled you back, even so much as to make you slide back on the floor and off the table. Your hands and cheek softly fell onto the rug, the new angle letting his cock hit you even deeper. Your fingers finally had something to grip as he railed you, sweat beading down his brow, his tongue stuck out of the side of his mouth in concentration. He knew he looked like a rutting dog fucking a bitch in heat, which is what you looked and sounded like too. He loved that you couldn't control yourself when he was balls deep in you. Jeno huffed when he saw your face, cock-drunk and red, eyes glazed over, mouth open.

"You're so good for me, pumpkin." He smirked when your shoulder's twitched, the word triggering your submissive mode.

"s'good daddy~" You whined and he full on laughed, head tilted back, his hard swallow bobbing his adam's apple. You could see most of him from the corner on your eye and you hadn't even realized he had taken his hoodie and shirt off, his delicious body on display. He was a sex deity or something, you were convinced. With the way he looked, the size of his cock and the way he moved his hips, either that or he was a sex-robot that got loose. His thrusts started to stutter, getting shallower but no less hard.

"Want daddy to cum inside, pumpkin?"

"Yessss~" You nearly cried and with three more pumps, your insides flooded with heat, and you fell over the edge too. Even awhile after your orgasms had faded, you both kneeled on the floor. Jeno panted, wondering if he should keep going for your sake, even though he knew he could get hard again. He wasn't even sure you were awake. Chuckling lightly, he looked up to the banana on the table.

"Thanks, little buddy."

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peopleareaproblem · 8 months ago

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"It's the only name I can say."

So last ep, Kalina dropped this line after saying "Ragh Barkrock" again. She's really trying to get the Bad Kids to deduce who she could be referring to via Ragh. We've found out about the Spy's Tongue Curse since she last dropped Ragh's name, so it's clear that she's implying that she cannot say the names she wants to say and is dropping Ragh's name as a clue. I've been seeing a lot of theories about this line that are convinced it's implying Lydia Barkrock. I disagree: I think she is referring to Arianwen, Jace and Porter. Here's why.

First of all, and most obviously: Kalina says Lydia's full name in Sophomore Year episode 6.

Kalina: But you do have some time to talk it over because I'm gonna head out and kill Lydia Barkrock. So take care.

I don't think Brennan or the D20 Lorekeeper would have missed this. Kalina doesn't have a Spy's Tongue Curse with Lydia.

Secondly, the gang already investigated Lydia and got relevant clues from her, and Brennan did not encourage suspicion towards Lydia in any way. This repeat of the clue really feels like a "you guys didn't get it yet" type thing. Last time they assumed Lydia and that wasn't it. Try again.

Thirdly, Ragh's only real interaction with Kalina is about a single time he saw something he shouldn't have: Jace, Porter and Arianwen talking to someone invisible (Kalina) on Prom Night. I believe that if the Bad Kids just asked Ragh what Kalina could possibly have meant by "Ragh Barkrock" and "It's the only name I can say," he would absolutely bring up this fact. But they haven't!

That's why I am convinced that Arianwen, and to a lesser extent Jace and Porter, are who Kalina was referring to.

Below the cut are some bits of the trancript from Episode 4 of Sophomore Year, where Ragh reveals this to the Bad Kids.

Ragh is describing the aftermath of the fight with Kalvaxus:

Ragh: I ran into the school. And I went and I saw there was this conversation, and I was going, 'cause a lot of the teachers had been trapped in the crystals and had come out again. And I saw Jace, the sorcery teacher-- Adaine: Mm-hmm. Ragh: Talking to this woman that I didn't recognize. She was an elven woman, she was wearing sort of like black, dark robes, it looked like, they were very light. She was blonde, she had glasses. Adaine: She look like this? [points at her face] Ragh: She look like you? Adaine: Mm-hmm. Ragh: I mean, yeah. Yeah, she looked like, yeah, she looked like you. But older. She didn't look like-- Adaine: Right. Ragh: Um, you know, I mean, elves never look that old, but she looked like, you know, not a high schooler. Um. Jace and them were talking, and they were talking to somebody else who I couldn't see. I just assumed somebody was like, invisible. Um. Later, um, Jace and Porter came and talked to me--

Ragh goes on to describe Porter healing him, despite Ragh not feeling "that injured, honestly", and after that he can see Kalina despite not being able to see her moments before:

Ragh: And after that, I was like walking home, and I saw this cat woman, this tabaxi. And she came up, and told me all this stuff about my mom, and she said if I ever talked to anyone about it, she would kill my mom.

This indicates that Porter infected Ragh with the curse, on purpose. Probably to allow Kalina to threaten and manipulate him so he wouldn't tell anyone what he saw. She really doesn't want him telling anyone that he saw Arianwen there.

Ragh: She told me if I ever mentioned to anyone what I had seen about that elven woman-- Adaine: Mm-hmm. Ragh: That she would kill my mom.

They have a short conversation about wether Jace is suspect, but dismiss it. Adaine shows Ragh a photo of her mother and he confirms that it is the woman he saw.

#fhjy #fhjy spoilers #dimension 20 #dimension 20 spoilers #fantasy high #fantasy high spoilers #fantasy high junior year #fantasy high junior year spoilers #ragh barkrock #lydia barkrock #arianwen abernant #jace stardiamond #porter cliffbreaker

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potter-imagines · 1 year ago

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Family Sleepover

Pairing: Choso Kamo x Reader

Prompt: A relaxing friday night for Choso and Y/n takes a turn when Choso's little brother, Yuji, has a nightmare leading to a family sleepover.

Word Count: 5.8k

Warning: modern Choso and reader, non sorcerer world setting, mentions of drinking and smoking, otherwise mainly fluff!

Notes: love love love choso, he doesn't get enough attention in writes so hopefully i'll have more choso x reader to come! <3 (gif credit to @fushiguro)

Rainfall smacked against the shingles on the roof while the weather outside only grew worse. A majority of souls dreaded nights filled with storming rain, although Y/n never truly understood why. Not only did the ‘disgusting’ weather provide her the perfect excuse to remain indoors, the cracks of lighting and the booming of thunder set a cozy mood as the rain poured down from the skies outside. The light from the flashing television brightened the darkened room to a glowing haze. Choso had his arm thrown over his girlfriend’s body and his back pressed up against the black headboard as Y/n curled herself into his side, her hands resting neatly on his chest.

It was a typical Friday night for the couple after an exhausting week for the both of them. Choso had put in three grueling nights of overtime while Y/n had run herself thin juggling her final semester of college writing three separate ten page essays and studying for finals between her part time job.

Instead of going out until the early hours of the morning bar hopping and clubbing like most couples their age, the two preferred the more intimate occasions of peaceful bliss wrapped in each other’s hold. Besides, babysitters weren’t cheap and between keeping up with rent, having enough food on the table, gas to get to work, bills and buying new clothes for a never ending growing boy, there wasn’t a surplus of funds left over to pay some high schooler to watch little Yuji every weekend night.

Yuji was the youngest of Choso’s brothers, his only surviving family member in fact. Shortly after his eighteenth birthday his entire family perished in an electrical fire that tore through his childhood home. The cause was natural yet their deaths hardly felt so. His mother had passed away in the hospital a day after the fire, while his little brother was the only member she could manage to stumble out of the home with. Yuji was a few months old at the time, and if he hadn’t still been sleeping in the bassinet next to their parent’s bed, Choso was sure he would’ve perished as well. He had received a call only hours after the fire was put out, being miles away at university, he rushed to his hometown immediately to discover the life changing news.

That tragic event was four years ago and ever since, Choso has been raising his youngest brother alone- well, they were alone, until through friends, Choso was introduced to Y/n. The couple met at nineteen and had been going strong since, much to his surprise. Choso struggled in the dating field prior to being a near ‘single dad’, and now that he had his kid brother to look after, he naturally assumed he’d never find a partner.

However Y/n proved herself different from any woman he’d ever met, and Yuji adored her. From the child's second birthday on, Y/n had been an essential part of their lives and she had no intentions of leaving, which she once again proved by blowing Choso’s mind and signing on to lease a small three bedroom home alongside him and Yuji. Three years later now and the couple were raising Yuji like a stable, healthy family, and Choso couldn’t be more grateful to have her in both of their lives.

Typical wasn’t an adjective that fit like a puzzle in their dictionary but they still tried to act like a normal 23 year old couple, hence the half full wine glasses sat on either side of the bed and the tightly packed pre roll waiting patiently on Choso’s side. Sure, they had a crazy five year old to look after, but that doesn’t mean they weren’t allowed to indulge in a bit of fun themselves, right?

A mutual favorite horror film of the couples was playing in the background. Y/n laid peaceful alongside Choso and the two cuddled on one another underneath the heavy stack of blankets. H/c hair tickled his skin as Choso situated his chin on the crown of her skull. Screams streamed from the television as a helpless victim took their chance at running through the winding forest trying to escape the crazed killer. Y/n’s body jerked as the girl managed to trip over a perfectly placed tree root and went stumbling down a large, leaf filled hill. The actress cried in fright as the killer stood at the top of the embankment, staring down at her disheveled state. Choso stole a peep down at his girlfriend, a rare smile coating his lips as he noticed her fully clinging to his naked chest. Once the girl was murdered and the screen cut to a new scene, her body visibly relaxed as her hold loosened.

Choso smirked at the action, his lips finding their way to the top of her head, placing a small kiss as his arms pulled her closer. He could feel her hands absentmindedly tracing patterns against his chest while her eyes were glued to the horror movie on the television. Every once in a while her frame would flinch against his as a new victim was slain and killed, making him laugh to himself at her jumpy nature. Not everyone found horror movies ‘relaxing’, so to say, but for the couple, it was their idea of an unwinding night.

Y/n shakily picked the wine glass up from the nightstand and took a reasonable gulp on the red liquid, then placed the cup back on the coaster. Her eyes casually shifted to her boyfriend, a mischievous smile playing on her pink lips as she motioned towards the joint resting on his side. Choso understood her thinking, not needing the use of words, and he chuckled. The mood felt all too perfect and the claming drag of a blunt was the bow to tie their night together in a beautifully wrapped present. However, as the saying goes, if something seems too good to be true, chances are it isn’t true.

Right as Choso went to reach for the bud sitting beside him, a loud, echoing shriek broke through the once mellow air causing both adults to spring in terror. Y/n gasped, sitting up immediately as she looked up to Choso who was already throwing the comforter off and his legs off the side of the bed to stand.

“Shit…” He cursed. Another scream hit the air as Choso grabbed the nearest shirt he could find and threw it on. Watching as he hurriedly redressed, Y/n extended her hand to flick the bedside lamp on, a worried hint to her tired gaze.

“Is that Yuuji?” Concern laced her words as Y/n watched her boyfriend throw a random shirt over his head. He nodded towards her, confirming her worry.

“Mmh, one second, babe. I’ll be right back.” Choso shared a quick kiss with his girl before sliding out the bedroom door. Stepping into the hall he quietly flipped on the ceiling light and walked the few steps to his brother’s room. Yuji’s door was decorated in various drawings, stickers, and paintings the young boy had made, making it hard to miss. The door was closed shut, but that didn’t stop the sound of muffled sobs and shaky breathing from breaking through. Twisting the golden knob, Choso slowly creaked the door open as he peeked his head around the wooden frame.

From his spot in the doorway Choso could see a small lump under the covers that was shaking like a leaf in a storm, much like the raging thunderstorm occurring outside the home. Entering the room, he quietly made his way into the bedroom and sat his body on the edge of the bed, careful as to not startle his younger brother. Choso reached his hand out to rub along what appeared to be the child’s back as he whispered,

“Hey, little man. Everything alright?”

The heavy blanket was ripped from the boy’s body at the sound of his savior’s voice as Yuji flung himself to his big brother’s arms, grasping at his shirt while his teary eyes leaked against the cotton.

“Choso!” He cried out. An iron grip clutched at his skin, tiny hands searching for stability in his hold.

“I’m here, don’t worry. Why’re you crying?” Choso hugged his body close to his chest, his large hand running up and down Yuji’s back in an attempt to comfort him. The small boy buried his head in his shoulder as the broken sobs continued.

“I-I had a-a bad dream a-and the thunder w-was so loud my… my whole room was shaking and… and I saw a monster was outside my window with big claws and sharp teeth- he was going to eat me!” Yuji shouted in fear. His voice trembled as he struggled to get his words free from his dry throat.

The image of a terrifying beast perched up on the branch staring at him through his window replayed on a loop in Yuji’s head, his brain creating a scarier image each time he recalled the monster. Tiny fists bundled the shirt between his fingers as Yuji clung to his older brother. Glancing down, Choso leaned back a pull so the boy was forced to look into his dark violet eyes. Despite his usual solemn look, Choso’s features were warmer- more comforting than Yuji had witnessed on the regular. A serious gaze crossed his stare as his thumb wiped a bundle of tears running down the child’s cheeks.

“Well you know that would never happen. Do you remember what I told you about monsters?” He questioned. Yuji rubbed at his eyes, his head shaking ‘no’ in response. Swiping his thumb across the underside of his leaking eyes, Choso wiped his rampant tears away.

“They’re not real. They’re just in our heads, right?” His finger tapped against his small forehead. “Even if monsters were real, your big brother would never let it eat you, I can promise that.”

Yuji peered up at his brother, his curious wide eyes on full display, as if his big brother had all the answers to life. If Choso told him the grass was blue and the sky was green, he’d believe him. To Yuji, his brother could do no wrong. A twinkle met his large brown eyes as his head tilted to the side,

“You’d beat him up?” He asked hopefully. A crack of a grin broke across his face as Choso nodded in agreement.

“Mmh.” Choso ruffled the pink of his hair, giving him a reassuring smile. Yuji cuddled himself against his chest once more, previous shaky breaths finally evening out to small hiccups. The redness to his plump cheeks were starting to fade leaving tiny blotches of hysteria in its wake. Those tears that seemed never ending like a rushing waterfall growing into quiet sniffles.

A steady silence filled the room until Yuji pulled his head away from Choso’s now damp shirt. With nervous eyes he hesitantly looked down to his fidgeting hands. Rubbing his palm against his heated skin, Choso wordlessly urged his kid brother to speak up, knowing there was clearly something swimming around his mind. Reaching out for the plush brown bear, Yuji held it to his chest as he inhaled steadily.

“Can… can I sleep in your bed, please big brother?” The flush of innocence to his tone was a gentle reminder to Choso that although his little brother was rather brave for his age, he was still only five years old and sometimes, extra reassurance was required.

“Sure, kiddo.”

Yuji leapt towards Choso, his small arms encircling his brother’s neck as he let out a cheer of delight. Smiling to himself, Choso plucked the blue star blanket he knew the child struggled to sleep without and stood from the bed. Yuji’s head laid against his shoulder as the pair started walking towards the master bedroom. Choso flicked the hallway light off and turned the handle to his room, stepping into the darkness with his brother in his hold.

The small lamp on her bedside was still lit as the two brothers entered the room, the sudden presence capturing Y/n’s attention. Choso didn’t fail to notice the smile that graced her beautiful features as she caught sight of the pink haired boy in his grasp, and the way her arms opened up on instinct. A gasp of excitement broke from Yuji’s chest as he met the eyes of his second favorite person in the world.

“Y/n!” Yuji shouted. Shaking from Choso’s arms, he scrambled against the fluffy duvet as he crawled to Y/n. A large grin illuminated on his face as he fell into her welcoming embrace. “Big brother is letting me sleep in his bed- do you think we can snuggle?”

His strawberry scented hair tickled against her chin as Yuji buried himself further in her chest, cheeks still slightly damp from his crying from before now pressed to her skin. Y/n drew her nails up and down his spine, scratching his back as one comforting their young would do, then kissed the side of his head.

“Of course, baby.”

Choso reached out for Yuji from behind and lifted him, allowing Y/n room to pull the blanket down so he could sneak in beside her. Once Yuji was under the covers he yanked the dark material up and settled in below his chin, his arms falling above the blanket then effortlessly positioned himself on his side so his little body was nearly attached to Y/n’s. Yuji innocently cradled his face into the warmth of her chest. Y/n giggled at his forwardness and wrapped her hold around him, pulling Yuji closer and kissing his ruby cheek, to which the boy snuggled in closer.

Choso couldn’t resist the chuckle that broke from his chest making the tattoo line across the bridge of his nose scrunch in amusement as he watched how easy his brother made himself at home in the bedroom he shared with his girlfriend. Yuji pranced in the room and fixed himself up in Choso’s bed next to his girlfriend like he owned the place- like he was the one paying rent. Tugging his shirt off, Choso threw the cotton to the side as he slipped into his side of the bed and shot Y/n an apologetic look.

“I’m sorry, angel. Yuuji had a nightmare then was certain he saw a monster outside his window so he’s pretty shaken up.”

“It’s okay, you don’t have to apologize for taking care of him, Cho. There’s plenty of room for all three of us up here.”

Choso’s eyes drifted to his nightstand, purple orbs landing on the sealed up backwoods as he mentally cursed himself, thank god Yuji hadn’t noticed it or Y/n was sure to chew his ass out. Looks like they’d have to save their smoke session for another night. Sliding open the bedside drawer, Choso swept the pre roll into the cupboard and shut it, tossing the blue lighter in alongside. The wine swayed in the glass from the movement, and he pushed it back a few inches so it was completely out of Yuji’s reach.

Turning his attention back to the two Choso nudged his finger against the chubby texture of his little brother’s cheek.

“But you’re coming in here to sleep, okay Yuuji? It’s bedtime, not playtime.” Yuji obediently bobbed his head in agreement, a twinkle of mischievousness sparking in his eyes. Choso knew that gleam all too well. Overall his kid brother was a relatively good listener, but there was always some catch, and when it came to bedtime, Yuji’s catch was his ability to ask a million and one questions before actually falling asleep. Y/n bit the inside of her cheek to keep from letting a laugh escape. Yuji was too sweet. Tapping his finger at Y/n’s arm, the small boy gestured towards the tv.

“Can I watch a little of your movie to go to sleep?” His question was suppressed by his face being shoved into Y/n’s neck, but the words were clear enough. Y/n glanced at her boyfriend, an uncertain raise to her brows. Before he could decline his brother’s request, she shook her head softly.

“Well… it’s sort of scary… maybe we should put something different on until you’re asleep.”

Instead of changing the channel, Choso opted for turning the volume down. It was a film he’d seen a thousand times over and he knew there wouldn’t be another scary scene for a good fifteen minutes, which opened the perfect window of sleep for Yuji. Unlike Choso who required a minimum of thirty minutes until sleep could greet him, Yuji could fall asleep at the drop of a pin, and based on the droopiness to his eyes, sleep didn’t seem too far off for him.

“How ‘bout you try closing your eyes for sleep and we can have a fun movie day tomorrow, alright? Y/n and I are gonna go to bed soon, too.” Choso promised. The young boy tilted his head up towards his big brother, almost searching his features for any sign of lies, but Choso only stared back. Once he was sure his brother was telling the truth, Yuji nodded and forced himself to close his large eyes.

Both adults watched the movie without a word, cautious to give Yuji a fair chance to fall asleep. Images passed on the screen of a seemingly happy family as they began moving into their new home. The children ran around outside the home, giggling and shouting with glee as the parents carried loads of boxes into the home. The scene hadn’t struck either Choso nor Y/n as one of importance as they both knew the ill awaited fate to meet the family, but through half lidded eyes, Yuji’s interest was quipped. The quietness lasted for no longer than a minute when Yuji moved his head, pink hair brushing against Y/n’s chin, and knocked at his brother’s shoulder.

“Big brother…”

“Hm?” Choso replied. Yuji’s fixation was back on the television screen as he pointed his finger to the image.

“Are you and Y/n gonna have babies?”

Both heads immediately snapped to the young boy, a gasp of shock sounding from Y/n at the sudden inquiry as her eyebrows shot up towards the sky. If someone was to take a picture of her face, she was sure she’d look like she’d witnessed a ghost. Choso’s mouth hung astoundment, the innocently worded question clearly hitting him like a smack across the face.

“What?”

Y/n quietly stared at her boyfriend for help, unsure what to say in response. Yuji on the other hand sat unwavered as he wiggled against her, trying his best to find the most comfortable position. Choso lifted the comforter of the blanket so Yuji had more access to cover his small body, then provided a brief shrug. Giving his girlfriend a look of uncertainty, Choso sighed at the oddly deep question.

“Not for a while, little man. We’ve already got you to take care of so I think we’ll wait a bit.” Choso spoke softly.

“Oh… okay.” Disappointment flooded his tone. Seeing his face drop in such a sad manner made Choso feel a bit bad for letting him down. Of course the couple planned on having children, it was a topic they’d discussed more times than they could count, but it wasn’t necessarily a priority at the moment for either of them. Choso wanted Yuji in school, and Y/n to have her dream wedding to him before either of them seriously took action to have children of their own. In the meantime, they certainly enjoyed practicing the baby making process- but Yuji didn’t need to know about all that.

Yet it seemed Yuji’s curiosity was not quite settled as he once again tapped Choso on the shoulder,

“Big brother?”

“Yeah?” He tiredly mumbled out. Y/n laughed at the exasperation in Choso’s voice. It was no secret, Yuji had hit that age where his questions and curiosity had no end. Every meal was filled with a game of 21 questions asking what was in the food, how was it made, where did the ingredients come from, why does it call for carrots and not chocolate, and so on. His mind had no limits, and most of the time, Choso was grateful for that, except for now when Yuji was meant to be asleep, not firing inquiries left and right. Stealing a glance to Y/n over his shoulder, Yuji turned back to his big brother, a shade of scarlet painting his skin.

“Can I marry Y/n when I’m a big kid like you?” Large brown eyes bore up at Choso as Yuji hugged his teddy closer, a faint blush flushing his cheeks. Choso was aware of his little brother’s crush on his girlfriend, and honestly, he couldn’t blame the kid. Y/n was attentive, caring, selfless, kind hearted, and not to mention gorgeous, so he could see plain as day why Yuji had a crush on his girlfriend. Still, the question knocked him back a step in surprise. Tonight's line of thoughts racing around the child’s mind seemed larger than normal.

“I’m sorry, little man but I was planning on marrying Y/n. I don’t think it’d be very fair if you stole her from me, do you?” His brows pulled together into a thin line at his brother’s new inquiry. First babies, now he wanted to marry Y/n? Choso was scared to hear what Yuji had up his sleeve to ask next. The child’s expression went glum once again, a heavy pout coating his pink lips.

“No… I guess not… I just really like to snuggle with her…” He admitted. His confession brought a cheesy grin to Y/n’s face. Yuji had always been adorable to her but now she found him even more of a sweetheart. Arms still wrapped around him, Y/n pulled Yuji in further to give him a hug, which he happily accepted.

“You can always snuggle with me, bubs, but I’ll bet when you’re a big kid like your brother, you’re gonna meet a pretty girl you’d rather cuddle with instead.” Y/n laughed slightly as she glanced down at the young boy. She found it irresistibly adorable Yuji had developed a crush on her, but she also knew it was sure to fade as he grew, nonetheless, it was one of the cutest things to her. Kissing his temple, Y/n gave him one last squeeze then loosened her grip as a loud huff tumbled from Yuji’s parted lips.

“Not true! You’re the prettiest girl ever! I don’t want another girl- gross!” Yuji’s tongue fell from his mouth as he made an absurd gagging sound. In his mind, the idea of snuggling another girl was the most disgusting thing he’d ever heard- but snuggling his big brother’s girlfriend? Now that was a totally different story. Choso sent a flick to the side of Yuji’s head, snickering to himself as the boy yelped and grasped for the point of impact.

“We’ll see if you change your mind, how ‘bout that?” Yuji shook his head ‘yes’, agreeing to his brother’s words. Y/n suppressed a giggle as she looked over to Choso, amused by his twinge of annoyance at what she found to be adorably harmless questions from Yuji.

While Choso quietly pondered over his brother’s words, the small boy seemed to be warming up to the idea of bedtime. Yuji’s big eyes were casually drooping lower and lower with every blink he took.

“I think someone is sleepy…” Y/n’s tone was teasing as she poked the chub of Yuji’s cheek. His usual hyperactive nature was calmed down to a simmer, and Y/n could feel him sinking into her hold. Not much longer and she was sure he’d be out like a light. As if reading her mind the young boy let out a loud yawn.

“I’m just gonna close my eyes for a little bit.” Yuji seemed to be making the promise more to himself than anyone else. Choso nodded, feigning belief, his brown strands threatened to slip from the rubber tie holding his hair in two loose spiky ponytails as he moved his head.

“Okay, kid. I believe you.” Choso smirked.

Twisting his body, Yuji pressed his back against Y/n’s chest. She wrapped her hold around his smaller frame, allowing his little arms to lay ontop of hers, then reached his other hand out to hold the edge of his brother’s pillow. Choso could feel his tiny legs folded, Yuji’s knee pressing against his side. The kid was never one for a normal sleeping position, Choso thought to himself.

Nuzzling his head against the plush mattress, Yuji peaked his eyes open and gave his brother a soft smile. The hand clutching Y/n’s arm gave a squeeze as his sleepy voice mumbled,

“I love you, big brother… I love you, Y/n…”

“I love you too, Yuji, sweet dreams.” Y/n leaned down to press a loving kiss to the boy’s forehead. Pulling away, she brought her hand up to stroke at his light pink strands. Choso smiled to himself at the sight, then reached his hand out to pinch at the excess of skin on his little brother’s cheek.

“Love you, little man. Sleep tight.”

A stillness enveloped the room in a circle of quietness, the sound of Yuji’s faint breathing followed by light snores being the only steady sound. Choso waited a few minutes before reaching for the remote and turning the volume up slightly, their mutual resistance to having Yuji listening in now wiped clean. Although both had their outward attention focused on the movie playing, neither were mentally zeroed in on it. In fact, they were both thinking about the same thing, thinking about what Yuji had said; having kids, getting married, spending the rest of their lives together.

Of course this was a common thought that roamed around in Choso’s head, he had just never realized he wasn’t the only one who thought about it. Cracking a smirk, Choso settled his arm around the middle pillow supporting Yuji and placed his hold on Y/n’s shoulders. His fingers unintentionally tickled her skin and her body subconsciously melted into his touch. Letting out a chuckle, Choso turned his head in her direction,

“Can’t believe my kid brother is trying to steal my girl from me.” Y/n laughed at his remark, amused by the idea of Yuji wanting to marry her when he grows up. It was a sweet gesture in her eyes and made her feel grateful that he held such a high opinion on her. Of course, it was his elder brother Y/n planned to wed, the thought meant the absolute world to her.

“I don’t know, babe, give it a few years and he just might do it.”

Choso lolled his head to the side, a look of idiocy gracing his features as he rolled his eyes. Grabbing her free hand he brought her fingers up to his face and pressed his lips against her ring finger. Although the finger was bare of jewelry at the moment, Choso was determined to change that fact soon. Without Y/n’s knowledge Choso had been saving a portion of his work checks on the side, saving for a sparkling diamond ring to adorned her hand.

Knowing his girlfriend, Y/n would accept a bread bag tie or a ring pop even. Money wasn’t something they were swimming in, and she loathed the rare occurrences Choso would splurge on her. However, Choso wanted her to have a diamond ring- no, he needed her to have one. After all she had helped him through, all the times she had been there for him and his brother, Choso wanted her to see how much he truly appreciated her, so no ordinary ring would do for him, it needed to be perfect. Laying her hand against his chest, Choso narrowed his gaze playfully.

“You’re talking like I won’t have a ring on that pretty finger and you tied down to me by then.” Laughing at his statement Y/n simply shook her head at him.

“I’m already tied down to you, Choso. You’re stuck with me forever.” Y/n teased, sticking her tongue out momentarily to tease him. She knew if he had asked her to marry him right then, she’d say yes, zero hesitation in her answer. It was no secret that she planned on spending the rest of her life by his side.

“Good, ‘cause I wasn't planning on letting you go.”

Yuji stirred between them, faint groans of tiredness breaking from his lips as his body jerked in his sleep. Y/n retracted her hand from Choso’s body and soothingly ran her fingers up and down the child’s back, silently lulling him back to his peaceful sleep. Yuji cuddled further into her hold, a sigh of contentment escaping his parted lips. Choso watched the two, his heart fluttering as Y/n effortlessly brought comfort to his brother without even a word.

Glancing up to her quiet boyfriend, Y/n sent him a sweet smile.

“Are you staying up for a while?”

“Yeah, I’m not too tired yet but I won’t be too late.” He nodded. It was no secret Choso had adopted a poor habit of staying awake until the sun rose, especially on the weekends. No matter how much effort Y/n devoted to breaking this habit, it lived on.

Propping herself on her elbow, and cautious for the child in between, Y/n reached across the space between the couple. Receiving the unspoken message loud and clear, Choso turned his face, allowing opportunity for their lips to touch as he kissed her sweetly. The exchange was short and loving, but Choso took every advantage of the moment as he relished in the feeling of his lover pressed against him. His lips greeted hers in a passionate embrace, despite their awkward positioning. A tiny hint of a smile cracked through her lips as Y/n pushed her lips against his, gentle yet determined to prove her love, which he effortlessly felt. Pulling apart, Y/n grinned up at him as she leaned back into her spot on the bed, snuggling up against her pillow. Blinking her e/c eyes up to him, a stroke of red flushed her s/c cheeks as she blushed. Y/n could spend the rest of her life kissing her lover and still would never grow old of the butterflies his lips released inside her soul.

“Okay,” She whispered. “Turn the tv off at a good time, you had a long day.” Choso’s hand ran along the top of her head, petting at her hair with a gentle smile. His insides fuzzed at the sincerity to her words. The caring nature Y/n held always had him feeling so loved and looked out for, it truly meant the world to him.

“Thanks, pretty girl. You’re always taking care of me… well, us.” He gazed down at his sleeping brother. Y/n leaned further into his loving strokes as she reached her arm gently across Yuji’s body to lay still against Choso’s chest. The action was simple, but the effectiveness was strong. A chorus of chills danced down his spine at her touch to his bare skin. There was no element of sexualizing to her touch, no hidden agenda, no further want but a safe place to rest.

“You say that as if two don’t take care of me as well. We all need each other.” Y/n argued. A comfortable silence greeted the pair as Choso basked in the comfort of her hand against his skin. The movie on the TV played on deaf ears while Y/n’s eyes slowly grew heavy in weight.

Reaching around his shoulder Choso grabbed the wine glass from the night stand, bringing the glass to his lips he sipped the red liquid, feeling his body relax at the taste. Red wine had always been a favorite of his, a taste Y/n had developed a liking to after multiple tries of her lover convincing her it was the superior choice. Many things had changed in her life after Choso and Yuji, such as red wine over white, nights in over nights out, and sharing the bed over sleeping alone.

Choso set the glass down, opening his mouth to make a remark about how the chilled beverage was now warm and apologize once again for the bump in their night, when he was suddenly taken aback by the look on his lover's face- the love pouring from just one look.

“About tonight-” A quick roll of the eyes and a motion of the hand caused Choso’s words to fall flat against his tongue.

“Don’t. I wouldn’t choose anything over this.” Y/n smiled.

Careful for the boy laid between them, both leaned across the mattress, unable to resist the need to feel her once more, allowing their lips to meet in the middle. Choso’s hand curled around the side of her face, his thumb caressing the skin as his lips devoted all the passion and love his heart could express. His soft kiss brought a sense of home to Y/n, her hold clasping on the back of his neck, not allowing a chance to break. She swore she could feel her heart physically warming as his lips moved against hers, savoring every moment of his love. Every kiss they shared held a piece of their love, yet this one was received stronger.

Pulling away, Y/n leaned her forehead against his, quickly pressing a final ‘goodnight’ kiss to the corner of his lips, causing a smile to rise. Even in the poorly lit room Y/n could see the red rush of blood to his cheeks. Leaning back she cozied herself underneath the heap of blankets, allowing Yuji to cling to her once more in his asleep state. Resting fully against her pillow, Y/n looked up to Choso one last time before allowing her heavy eyes to finally shut for the night.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, angel.” Choso whispered through the still air.

It didn’t take long for her even breathing to be heard and he was certain she had fallen asleep alongside his brother. Silently slipping out his phone from his side Choso snapped a series of photos of the two snuggled against one another, a grin adorning his lips as he did so. Yeah, he thought, I’m putting a ring on that finger real soon.

#choso x reader #choso kamo #jjk choso #choso kamo x reader #choso imagine #jjk imagine #jjk #jjk x reader #yuji itadori #yuji #yuji x reader #yuji itadori x reader #choso #gojo #geto #jujutsu kaisen imagine #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader

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2tcs · 7 months ago

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Danny’s Journal or A Countdown to the Beginning

Summary: A look into the year leading up to the accident from the perspective of a forgotten journal.

February 9, 2002

Dear journal. Mom and Dad said they had a surprise for me and Jazz when we get home from school. Please God don't let it be another ghost gun or something. My hair is still singed from the last one.

Update. It was, in fact, a gun. Jazz now has a mild burn on her arm and is screaming how they need therapy. Not disagreeing but I don't think it's going to happen.

February 12, 2002

Dear journal. Happy birthday. A year ago Jazz gave you to me for my birthday. How my parents haven't accidentally destroyed you I don't know.

Me Tucker, Sam, and Jazz went out to eat for my birthday. Sam even had her family driver take us a town over to try that new restaurant. Well, that's what their excuse was. I think they were trying to get me out of the house for a little bit since Mom and Dad are going on a rampage through the house disassembling all the appliances. It's 10 pm and I can still hear noise coming from the basement.

March 26, 2002

I have the best idea for an April Fools prank. It involves chez whiz and glitter.

April 1, 2002

The prank worked like a charm. The jocks are going to smell like cheese for weeks. And they ain't ever getting the glitter out.

On the downside. Dash broke my arm and Mom and Dad put a “Fenton Anti-ghost Cast” on me. It kinda glows and makes my arm feel weird.

April 23, 2002

Sam’s birthday party was a glorious disaster this year. Her mom decided to do a princess-themed party. We have been preparing for this day since Sam found one of her mom’s work journals. We managed to sneak paint and glitter bombs into the venue before anyone got there. We even managed to get one on each of the chandeliers. It was awesome. Everyone got covered in black paint and red glitter.

What we didn’t account for was Grandma Ida hiring professional snake handlers to bring in a bunch of snakes for Sam. The snakes were non-venomous and luckily were all caught after one of the rich people bumped into the table that the snake cage was on. And the paint was non-toxic so it was easy to clean off the snakes too without them getting sick. Still kinda feel bad that the snakes got caught in the crossfire though.

May 20, 2002

🎵Schools out for the summer!🎵 Lol this is going to be so exciting. Our last summer as middle schoolers. Nothing but the big leagues after this!

June 13, 2002

Dad wants to go camping for Father's Day so we're going to head out tomorrow morning. Think I heard them mention Lake Arrowhead. That'll be cool. Haven't fished there before.

June 15, 2002

I don't know how but we're in Gotham. Apparently, there's some stupid ghost conversation going on so we're going to be stuck here for the next week. On the pulse side though I found a really cool cafe not too far from the hotel. And they don’t seem to care if you just hang out as long as their not busy and you buy something. Me and Jazz will probably be spending a lot of time here or at their library. It’s huge and has an entire section of space!

June 16, 2002

Turns out I'm allergic to something called Blood Blossoms. Mom and Dad ended up having some guy try to cleanse me of “the evil spook” after I accidentally brushed up against the flowers he had on his table. Jazz had to convince them to get me to the hospital. Luckily one of the guys walking around had an epi pen. So that helped. Still sucks and now I'm stuck at the hotel while Jazz frets like a mother hen. I don't think she's even realized that she has a rash on her hand from when she threw the flowers away from me.

June 19, 2002

So… Batman is real… wtf? He apparently has some questions for Mom and Dad but they haven't come back yet. He apologized to me and Jazz for waking us up and gave us suckers? Which. Weird. And Jazz threw them away when he left because “stranger danger is still a thing even if they are a hero”. RIP little Root Beer flavored DumDum. You will be missed.

And on the other hand, Robin was pretty cool. He's snarky and brave and hilarious and he is just so cool. 10/10 New favorite Robin. He even gave me a book recommendation for the report I'm supposed to turn in at the start of freshman year.

June 22, 2002

We were supposed to leave Gotham today. We were supposed to finally head to one of the lakes on the way home to do some camping and fishing. We were supposed to have a relaxing time. So please journal. Can you tell me why the giant wannabe scaly just threw the GAV? Now we are going to be stuck in this stupid city for another week while Mom and Dad fix it.

June 24, 2002

I made a new friend! Do you remember that cafe I talked about a few days ago? Well, I met a guy there. His name is Jason. He’s an absolute lit nerd but is way cool. The guy’s got muscles underneath his school uniform too. The guy looks like he could snap me like a twig yet isn’t at all like Dash. Hopefully, we can keep in contact after we head back to Amity. For now, we are planning on meeting up at the cafe tomorrow with our favorite books. I found “Star Stories”at the library so I’m bringing it with me. I don’t know if he likes stars but I hope he likes some of the stories about them.

July 9, 2002

Finally back at home. Dad had smuggled fireworks into the GAV (how they didn’t explode when KC threw it in Gotham idk) so we spent the 4th of July shooting them off at the lake. We ended up going to Lake Erie for the camping trip because Mom heard something at the convention about a ghost hanging out around there. Didn’t see any ghosts but the fishing was good. I even caught a bass the size of my head! All around it was really fun! Oh and the stars were so clear! The Summer Triangle was so clear you could point out Vega, Deneb, and Altair! It was so cool! Did you know that Vega is in the Lyra constellation? Or Deneb is in the Cygnus Constellation. And Altair is a part of the Aquila constellation!

Maybe I should ask if Mom and Dad could get me another journal for charting the stars. I’ll need the practice if I want to become an astronaut.

July 29, 2002

It’s a good thing that I got two of everything when me, Sam, and Tucker went shopping for school supplies. I got a lot of new space-themed stuff but the moment I got home Dad insisted on ghost-proofing my new backpack… It melted. I don’t even know how he managed to melt a canvas bag. It didn’t even catch fire first. Just started melting the moment Dad started spraying his new “Fenten Ecto-Rejecto Spray” on it. Wtf Dad.

On the plus side, Sam found a new coffin backpack and Tucker was able to get a new bag that had a pouch that he can put the walkman he got yesterday for his birthday. He is so hyped about it.

August 6, 2002

School starts next week and I am so hyped. Finally going to be a high schooler. Cool Kids Club here we go!

August 15, 2002

Kill me now. May the Gods strike me down and end my suffering. May the Faits find me lacking and cut my string. May the Crone tear me from the tapestry, the mother rejects my thread from the loom and the maiden take the wool of my youth and set it aside.

Sam has just informed me that that isn’t quite what the Mother, Maiden, and Crone do but whatever. Just know that everything sucks because apparently someone called the house phone and told Mom and Dad that there was a ghost in the school. The A-listers are blaming me for ruining their high school debut.

August 30, 2002

Mom and Dad have started making more noise in the lab than normal. It’s gotten to the point that Jazz has been spending more time at the library to study. Speaking of Jazz, she has been obsessing over self-help and psychology books lately. I mean. Jazz has always talked up therapy but now she’s kinda getting snooty about it. Sam suggested we start hanging out at that gazebo thingy at the park so we can get our work done on the nicer days. We’ll have to hang at Tucker's place though on the rainy days. Sam’s parents have decided that it’s time to put their foot down and get Sam to “socialize with your actual peers Sammy-kins so that you can make better connections and start networking” or whatever. So basically Sam’s mom doesn’t want her to be associated with us plebs I guess.

September 8, 2002

Mom and Dad repurposed the fridge so they could put samples in it. Apparently, the one in the lab broke. The green stuff in the tubes kinda creeps me out. Jazz is yelling at them about it. I kinda agree. Cross-contamination anyone? Think I’m gonna eat out at Nasty more often.

September 28, 2002

Either I’m going crazy or the leftover chicken and noodle soup in the fridge was moving. Like the noodles were wiggling around like worms or something. Jazz ordered pizza.

October 5, 2002

There are new wires in the house now and they glow? Mom said that they had some sort of breakthrough and are using the samples that they have to coat some of the tech in the house to “ecto-proof” it. Apparently, the ectoplasm doesn’t like electronics so they weren’t really able to mix it with tech too well. Some of Mom’s blueprints look like Star Wars blasters. Dad’s are less impressive.

October 29, 2002

Mom and Dad have locked me and Jazz in our rooms because of the “Ghost Menaces”. Me and Jazz have both taped warning signs on our windows so some brave trick-or-treaters don’t accidentally get hurt.

November 1, 2002

The signs worked but I saw Mom and Dad taking off in the GAV around midnight. Whatever. Me and Tucker did manage to reach a new level in DOOM last night so that was cool. And it’s World Vegan Day today so Sam is going to take us out to eat at a vegan place for dinner. I have no clue what Tucker’s going to eat. Well probably get it to-go so he can get something.

I found out where Mom and Dad went last night. The cops showed up and gave Mom and Dad a ticket for destroying a part of the park's water fixture. Someone had organised a haunted forest thing in the park and my parents went absolute ape.

November 2, 2002

Who told Mom and Dad about Dia de Los Muertos? Or that there was a little remembrance celebration/party thing going on today because of it? I’ve decided to make deviled eggs in protest of their chaos and have also bought candy skulls to eat.

November 18, 2002

Apparently, there is an Occult Day(?) and Sam insists we spend the day researching cults. Tucker has found a tech cult online that says there is “Techno Magic” and he is now trying to learn it. Sam has found a book of curses and has been giggling since she found it. Sam giggling is terrifying. I am concerned.

November 28, 2002

The turkey came to life and attacked us. Mom and Dad are blaming ghosts but me and Jazz agree that this is totally their fault for putting the stupid ecto in the fridge. At least the rest of the food was edible. I mean. It had a kinda glowing but I haven’t gotten sick yet. So yay?

November 29, 2002

So the food wasn’t good and I ended up getting sick this morning. fml Jazz is mad that I ate some of it. I am fully aware of what food safety is Jazz. But I was hungry and after the turkey, I was just tired and hangry. I had no clue you had ordered pizza so :p

December 5, 2002

On the 5th day of Christmas, my true love gave to me! Nothing because my family is insane. Mom and Dad are already starting their yearly Santa argument. Sam and Tuck are both out of town to visit family for the holidays, Jazz is avoiding the house because it’s “disruptive to my mental development” and I’m grounded for yelling at Dad when he burst into my room and accidentally made my little Rover fall off the shelf and brake.

December 9, 2002

Mom and Dad’s insanity is ramping up. They almost never leave the lab now and whenever I try to bring food down to them they either just mumble and keep working or start arguing again. The whole in the wall has a frame now too.

December 24, 2002

I made a mistake when I brought Mom and Dad their dinner today. In my defense, I was just tired of them yelling about Santa. So I asked why they had hazmat suits but me and Jazz didn’t if ecto was so dangerous. Because if it’s that dangerous then the fact we have ecto in the fridge means that we should all have suits. Jazz is furious with me cause now our parents are making us try on our new suits tomorrow. I am terrified of whatever monstrosity they create no matter how “fashionable” Dad claims they will be.

December 25, 2002

It’s worse than I thought. Mine’s white.

January 15, 2003

Gods, I hate this. I’ve been sick for the past week and Jazz says we’re almost out of soup. I keep going back and forth between being hungry and puking up whatever Jazz feeds me. Mom says that she has some tea that may help but when Dad brought it up it tasted funny. It did make me feel a little better but it just had a really weird taste. Dad said it’s just because I’m sick so everything tastes funny right now.

January 19, 2003

Is it weird that I want to lick the ecto in the fridge? I’m pretty sure it is but it still kinda looks lickable to me. Like how you know that D batteries are not edible but almost everyone has licked one at some point?

Jazz just gave me a lecture about putting things in my mouth that I shouldn’t… Again…

January 27, 2003

Jazz scared me this morning. I walked into the kitchen this morning and just saw glowing eyes. Like a cat’s eyes in the dark. Jazz thinks I’m hallucinating from lack of sleep because of the all-nighter I pulled with Tuck trying to pass the next level on DOOM but I swear that her eyes were glowing.

February 9, 2003

I’m starting to worry. I know they're obsessed with their dumb portal but they haven’t eaten in 2 days. Jazz is planning on going down there and persuading (yelling at them) them to eat if they don’t come up for dinner tonight.

February 12, 2003

Happy Birthday to me. I am now 14 years old. Mom and Dad forgot it was my birthday again. They ran into the kitchen this morning because they completed their portal. They even dragged me and Jazz down into the lab to see them turn it on before we went to school. It didn’t work and now Mom and Dad are going to take a drive around town to clear their heads. They probably won’t be back until dinner time. Sam and Tucker are coming over after school though so at least it will be quiet while they are over. And I think Jazz is going to make a cake if the box of mix I saw her trying to hide from me yesterday is any indication.

#danny phantom #a touch of #dpxdc #journal #oneshot

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my313 · 7 months ago

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spring cleaning ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ choi beomgyu

now playing 𝄞₊⊹ sukidakara - beomgyu (og: yuika)

⋆ pairing: high school sweetheart!beomgyu x gn!reader

⋆ summary: in an attempt to declutter your home for the spring, you find an old camcorder filled with beautiful memories of your first love.

⋆ warnings: fluff, mentioned past heeseung (enhypen) x reader, jealous beomgyu, established relationship, italics are flashbacks, beomgyu is a musician? so technically kind of an au, insinuated that beomgyu and reader were high schoolers in the 2000s

⋆ word count: 2k

a/n: LISTEN TO HIS COVER NEOOOWWW!!! god i love him so bad...... this is also not proofread sry i wrote this out of pure delusion LOL. stuff might sound bad omg i just wanted to write fluff 😭 banner by @/saradika <3

it's nearly midnight when you decided to rummage through your drawers, cabinets, and now, your closet. while dipping your head into the various sets of clothes, you reach for a heart-shaped box with a matching pink ribbon sitting on the lid.

inside, you find an assortment of trinkets from your days in high school. lilac envelopes with silly faces drawn on the seal, addressed to you; postcards from your distant relatives; your university acceptance letter; even a nasty tube of your favourite (expired) strawberry lip balm.

what really distracts you from your spring cleaning antics is the silver camcorder that sits in the very middle of the box.

the clunky piece of technology is covered in dust and mismatched stickers, obvious once you bring it out of the black hole that is your closet and into the warm light of your bedroom.

you don't expect it to start up with the way it's been abandoned for years, but the familiar jingle fills the silence and you're met with a pixelated view of your carpeting. you habitually click on the gallery, immediately flustered with the thumbnail that greets you.

a fond smile makes its way to your lips as the video plays. it's shit quality, as expected, but even with all the pixels distorting the boy's face, you recognise him. it comes easy, with beomgyu's round eyes nervously shifting from the falling cherry blossoms and onto the lens.

you recall this specific spring. the one right before you were set to graduate. you remember how odd beomgyu seemed the entire walk back to his house until he clumsily led the way to the little park a few minutes away from his childhood home. your impromptu shoot now becoming a memory to savour.

beomgyu keeps his distance from you as you take the longer, more scenic route to his house. he had it all planned out. today would be the day he'd tell you that he liked you. the first week of spring, the cherry blossoms falling perfectly; it was as if the universe and the gods of romance were aligning everything to his favour. he even got your favourite strawberry yogurt drink on-hand, poking the straw through the film and handing it to you proudly when you gasp and proclaim your gratefulness to him.

unfortunately, that didn't play out the way he fantasised the night before, sprawled out on his futon with a dopey grin on his face until morning came. even so, he didn't let his sleep deprived self peek through for a minute since you exited the school gates.

that was until you mentioned lee heeseung.

"heeseung asked me to the internet cafe this weekend," you begin, harmlessly conversing about your day like you usually do. you take a sip of your drink, then extend it to beomgyu, offering a taste.

he leans down to catch the straw between his lips, heart fluttering ever-so-slightly at the thought of your lips just being on that flimsy plastic a few moments ago. clearly, that gesture wasn't enough to keep his mind distracted from the mention of lee heeseung.

beomgyu tries to remain calm. internet cafe? surely, a thing friends do. you've tagged along with him and soobin a few times.

"he said it was a date."

which explains your current predicament. it's obvious that beomgyu is upset, lips jutted into a pout and brows furrowed. his hands stay stuck in his pockets as if they'd been glued there, so unlike his usual behaviour. on days like this, beomgyu typically links arms with you, or tugs on the top hook of your backpack to ease the weight off you, or even sling his arms around you with a mischievous grin. right now, you're sure this is the farthest beomgyu has been from you.

the silence drapes over you two like a stuffy blanket. you're thankful for the loud honks and bicycle bells in the background, even appreciating the yelling of the street vendors as your typically boisterous peer is quiet.

a bike chaotically speeds through your side, the rider repeatedly hitting the bell as they make their way to you. beomgyu quickly grabs your arm and trades places with you before the bike catches up, him on the road-side and you by the fences. once the bike passes with a hurried apology, beomgyu lets go of your arm and maintains the former distance.

"...sounds like a shit date, to be honest." the silence shatters. he mutters, huffing out a breath as he walks just an inch closer to you, as if trying to be a barrier between you and the road.

you blink at him, lips flat and eyes unassuming. just relieved he's talking to you. "you think?"

"yeah, why would you wanna be inside when the streets look like this.." he motions towards the cherry blossom trees surrounding you both. "..right now. d'you even like him enough to say yes?"

"i dunno. he's cool, i guess. isn't he your friend?"

"just played a few games together."

his responses are straight to the point. none of his beomgyu bullshit spinning your conversations through circles, which you admittedly did enjoy.

"is something... wrong? did you guys fight? i can beat him up for you if i go." you try to joke, your eyes never leaving beomgyu's face to catch his reaction.

he winces, "uh, no, not really. that- that's not the problem..."

your silence prompts beomgyu to keep talking, but his eyes don't meet yours. instead, he's staring at the pavement, picking up the creases on his shoes he'd never seen before, distracting himself by counting the petals he comes across. none of it calms his heart or clears the lump in his throat though.

he abruptly lifts his head and stares back at you. a pleasant surprise that causes you to blush at how his eyes sparkle so brightly. he sighs defeatedly, not wanting to be upset any longer. with one look at you, beomgyu's stubbornness weakens, a small smile on his lips as he closes the distance between you both.

his shoulder purposely clashes into yours, "it's really pretty at the park near my house right now. wanna see?"

you pause the video upon hearing the doorbell ring. with a knowing grin, you take the camcorder with you to the door. once you pull it open, the comforting sight of your boyfriend floods your vision.

"m'home~" he greets in a sing-song tone, arms spread wide awaiting your welcome home hug that he always craves after hours at the studio.

beomgyu's eyes travel from your sunken but excited eyes to the familiar thing in your hold. he blinks repeatedly, craning his neck up stiffly to look up at you again. comically, he brings an accusatory finger to the front with a nervous chuckle.

"is that...?"

"yup!" you beam enthusiastically, like you had waited for him to step foot into your shared apartment to eat him up.

knowing what was inside the camcorder, beomgyu could say it was similar. his face feels warmer despite the late night breeze still whisking him away from behind. you tug at his outstretched arm and pull him inside, shutting the door.

usually, you'd ask how work was, or pester him to let you listen to a new song he worked on. tonight though, none of that.

beomgyu sits next to you on the sofa, cheek nuzzled against your head. his downward gaze is alert to every button you press on the camcorder, cringing slightly at the memory of his partly successful confession.

beomgyu leans in closer to have a better look at the viewfinder. he chooses to focus on something else entirely even as you're sucked into the pretty pinks of the sakura flowers and the shaky footage of his round head.

the wind was just slightly unforgiving that day, petals swirling around the park. you're a few steps behind beomgyu. he's biting the inside of his cheek, stare stuck to the pavement, desperately wishing you'd speed up and start walking beside him.

impatient as ever, beomgyu decides he'll just slow down for you. he's not very subtle about it though, opting to halt entirely and turn his head in your direction. beomgyu wants to see the surprise in your face; eyes wide and cheeks pink. instead, what greets him is the lens of your camcorder, a hand-me-down from your relatives that you couldn't stop talking about over text just the other week.

beomgyu strides forward and you stay still in your spot, tightly gripping the camcorder. "beomgyu, say hi to the camera!"

your voice echoes with excitement, beomgyu doesn't have to peer beyond the camcorder to know that your lashes are kissing the apples of your cheeks with the way you're smiling widely. he wants to be the one to keep you beaming like this for years and years on end.

you're about to back away as beomgyu gets too close for the camcorder to film him and the view. then, you feel beomgyu's lithe fingers over your own, tugging on the camera, extending your arm by result, and raising it to his eye-level. beomgyu makes sure you're looking at him through the viewfinder. with a lopsided smile and head cocked to the side, beomgyu braces himself for what's to come, "hey, i like you."

your arm falls limp as he releases his grip on you, shocked by his confession. he doesn't let you process it, though, running towards the opposite direction. it takes you a moment to run after him, camera long forgotten. "choi beomgyu..! you!"

"why are you running away from someone you like, huh?!" you huff out, catching your breath.

when you look up, you can't help but point the camera at beomgyu again. with plenty of cherry blossom trees in the background, beomgyu center in the frame, wind trying to pull his necktie away, how could you not? the boy you like, the one that just confessed to you on one spring day, looked too beautiful.

the camcorder manages to pick up your words amidst the scratchy noises of the wind. in a whisper, one can hear your voice, "i like you too, beomgyu."

"wow, i was really handsome since birth, huh?" he poses confidently, his lips and warm breath kissing your hair as he speaks.

you roll your eyes with a smile, and you don't disagree. you never do and it makes beomgyu blush and grin. if he wasn't too comfortable in your warmth, he would be laying down on his stomach with a coquettish smile and his feet kicking up and down.

"yeah, s'why i'm engaged to you, no?" you blow a raspberry at him.

an exaggerated gasp paired with a dramatic drop of his jaw has your stomach hurting from laughing too hard. "i thought you loved me!"

"i do!" you giggle, biting down your lips to stop more fits of laughter spilling out. you squish beomgyu's cheeks together, lips pursed and begging to be kissed. so you do. "you and your pretty face, baby."

your laughs settle down into echoes of contentment, beomgyu's palm rubbing against your belly as if soothing your self-inflicted ache. plus, beomgyu would stick his limbs to your body if he could.

he presses his cheek against your head, "did you know i liked you even before that spring?"

you hum in thought, resting your hand atop the one on your tummy and filling in the gaps between his fingers with your own. you smile even harder upon feeling the cold metal band of your engagement rings. "nah. i thought it was impossible, honestly,"

"didn't even really think you thought of me like that until then, bomu." you admit shyly, playing with your interlocked fingers. beomgyu's lips purse in thought, "i thought i was pretty obvious though,"

"was buying you strawberry milk everyday and carrying your backpack home even if we lived in opposite directions not obvious enough for you, honey?"

"well... it's obvious now!"

"yeah," he beams that sweet, silly, sly beomgyu half-smirk that you've always loved. he releases your hands momentarily to raise his fingers to the light, showing off his ring. "we're so locked in now."

#from.313 #313.softhours #313.beomgyu #beomgyu fluff #choi beomgyu x reader #beomgyu x reader #txt x reader #txt fluff #beomgyu soft thoughts #beomgyu soft hours #txt soft thoughts #txt soft hours #txt scenarios #txt imagines #txt x you #beomgyu scenarios #beomgyu x you

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orbitariums · 6 months ago

Text

warmth | patrick zweig, art donaldson + black fem reader (pt. 1)

you guys really liked the snippet i posted so it's finally here! this will probably have a second part <3 (let me know if you'd like to be tagged for that!)

content: smut (oral f. receiving, fingering, handjob), childhood best friends trope, patrick and art are acting like high schoolers again, reader is rich bougie conniving hippie writer hybrid ...

reader, patrick and art are childhood best friends who conveniently were all in love with each other, or at least had enough sexual tension to make it feel that way. fast forward almost a decade later, and reader has made it onto the red carpet with her fantastic pen, and patrick and art have gone pro. when she invites them to her house for a star-studded friendsgiving, tensions rise and old doors open, springing forth new possibilities. this is only the beginning.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

warmth

“We should just turn around now, save ourselves the embarrassment.”

Patrick paid Art no mind, rolling down the window and leaning out of it, pressing the buzzer as you had dutifully instructed them in your email invite.

“Too late now. Already threw away about a gallon of gas just coming up the hill to this place,” he replied, the sense of ease in his voice only egging Art on even more.

“Exactly why we should leave. I mean, fuck. Does she have to live on a hill?”

“Residence of [last name], to whom am I speaking?” a male voice rings on the other end.

“Uh…” Patrick starts, Art reaching up over him,

“Patrick Zweig and Art Donaldson?”

A silence filled the air. Patrick swatted at Art, forcing him back in his seat.

“Why’d you say it like a question, dumbass?”

Art stammered, already starting to get red in the face,

“I was --”

The gate swung open and both the boys let out a sigh of relief.

“Thank you!” Patrick chimed, smirking over at Art, who seemed to be sinking in his seat.

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Meanwhile, you were inside the mansion that you call home, flowing around the kitchen like there weren’t about fifty people milling about and mingling amongst one another. It smelled like something out of Hansel and Gretel -- from the fragrant brown roasted turkey sitting in the oven, to the gourmand scent of perfectly caramelized candied yams, to the vanilla musk perfume you dotted on your wrists. A black mini Schnauzer nipped excitedly at your feet as you added half a cherry tomato to the giant bowl of salad you’ve been prepping for the last twenty minutes. You look like a pro, like a party of this magnitude is no big deal to you.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

“Do we ring the doorbell? Or maybe… should we knock?” Art questioned, hands tied behind his back as he glanced up at Patrick for answers.

“It’s open,” Patrick retorted, but he too stood stupefied at the door like a weary traveler wavering in horrific awe before the mouth of some epic beast.

“On three?” Art suggested, and when he didn’t hear a response, he started to count, “one… two…”

Patrick stepped in before Art could get to three. Art scoffed, but followed behind him anyway.

The both of them stood there silently, taking the grandiosity of it all in — the sky high dome ceiling, two grand wooden staircases directly opposite one another, the shiny verdant porcelain flooring, the Basquiat painting hanging above the wide bookcase directly in front of them. Mouths open, they looked like they were ready to catch flies.

“Fuuuck me,” Patrick breathed out heavily. Art’s head was stuck staring up at the ceiling, so high he thought it’d never end.

“You made it.”

Both Art and Patrick seemed to stand straight at the sound of your voice, like soldiers at attention. You almost laughed, but instead, you stood there coolly, smiling at them both with your lips and your eyes— in them, a look that was almost knowing, wise beyond your years. It seemed like a lifetime before either of them would speak. They spent half of that lifetime practically gawking at you, drinking you in. And how could they not, when you were practically draped in that baby blue silk dress, the flowy bottom dancing above your ankles. You looked more beautiful than they remembered you, calmer, secure — of course, they hadn’t seen you since they were teenagers. Now there was this air of timelessness about you that was only just poking at the surface when you were in high school, now it surrounded you. Something mystic encompassed your entire spirit, dripping from your head to your feet. They’d spent years seeing you from behind a screen, being interviewed on live TV, attending red carpets for award shows, blending in with the Hollywood mecca — another beautiful twentysomething industry talent. But the glow of the television that seemed to give everyone a perfectly filtered sheen was nothing compared to your beauty here.

“It’s so good to see you,” Patrick broke the silence first, practically lurching forward with open arms to embrace you. His beard scratched against your cheek. You could smell the cologne that was beginning to wear off, mixed with a hint of cigarette smoke. His arms nearly sucked you in.

When he pulled away, you couldn’t help but chuckle at the way he smiled at you so fervently.

“Good to see you too, Patrick…” you glanced over at the mousy boy who didn’t seem to have changed much since high school. “C’mere, Artie.”

Art chuckled: a nervous huff of relief, inching forward into your open arms and nuzzling his chin into your shoulder, closing his arms around your midwaist. You could smell the aftershave that clung to his jaw, and the detergent still fresh on his clothes.

You pulled away, but took one of each of their hands, squeezing.

“My two boys. Man, how long has it been?”

“Oh, just a while—”

“Seven years,” Art interjected.

“Who’s counting, right?” Patrick grinned, making all of you laugh.

You looked at them almost expectantly, eyes wide like a doe, the slightest smile playing at your lips. They looked back with bated breaths. Always, you were in charge, always. It had been like this since the scabby-kneed days of childhood. If you wanted to play on the swings, they were there on either side of you. You were the queen of the sandbox. In middle school, they snuck extra cookies for you from the lunchroom, and they fought over who got to surprise you with the treat every day. Senior year of high school, in the hotel room in London, when you had them perched on either side of you like baby birds waiting for mother’s return— when you had both your hands on each of their thighs inching further and further up, their lips ghosting against your soft skin, had them panting like puppy dogs, only to leave the minute you heard “lights out.”

It had been seven years since then and still, it was the same. Only this time, you were stupidly rich, thanks to the soaring success of your two psychological thriller books turned TV series. It wasn’t that you’d forgotten about them, or didn’t care about them now that you were rich and famous. You’d gotten accepted to study creative writing at Brown, Art went to play at Stanford, and Patrick went on his path to go pro. It was just the process of growing up. You were delighted to see that they were only a click away thanks to the internet, just one click away from reintegrating into your life. Your childhood best friends.

“C’mon, lunch is almost ready.”

Friendsgiving. Who didn’t love the concept? It was a readily welcomed, wholesome idea — friends of all ages and backgrounds coming together to rehash their Thanksgiving with leftovers, stories from the year, and maybe a game of cards. Except your friendsgiving was attended by A-list actresses, Cannes festival attending screenwriters, and the odd Grammy nominated artist. And your friendsgiving was not at all an intimate affair — it may as well have been a club party. Most people were outside, dancing, shrieking with laughter, drinking, and skipping their way to their seats. Your backyard was vast and verdant green, with a pool in the center, the perimeter lined with lemon and peach trees, and miles to explore.

“This is fucking insane, is that Dakota Johnson?” Patrick scoffed. He and Patrick had been left to their own devices yet again, while you flitted around being the hostess with the mostest, easing and gliding about. A laugh here, a clink of glasses there, and a coolness to you that stood in striking comparison with the warmth that stirred deep down inside you. A warmth that could be served with a ladle into goblets, like some elixir with magical properties only you possessed.

“No, you idiot, that’s— oh shit. That might be Dakota Johnson.”

Clink clink clink.

“Everybody, hi, hi! Thank you for coming, please, sit down,” you called out, clinking your glass to get the attention of your guests. Patrick and Art scrambled to find seats, ending up at a table with people who might have been minor celebrities or art critiques or designers -- at least one of those options.

“I wanna thank you all so much for coming, this really means a lot to me. I know these sorts of things can be really hectic, but you guys make this house feel like a home. I’m glad that some of you will be staying with me for the next few days, there’s always room for more,” you glanced over at Art and Patrick. “Some of you are new friends, some of you I’ve known for far too long. But I think it’s incredibly fucking cool that we’re all here together now in this moment, just enjoying each other’s presence. I do this every year, and every year I meet even more amazing, talented, fascinating people and you all are so dear to my heart. And now, what we’re all waiting for… lunch is served!”

A cacophony of cheers rang out as staff rushed about to place plates in front of everyone. You stood giggling, basking in all of it.

The rest of the afternoon Patrick and Art spent attempting to blend in as best they could. They were pro tennis players, but this was another level of stardom that they couldn’t quite fathom yet. They watched you ruthlessly the entire night, unable to squash those rising feelings of attraction and yearning for you that had never quite simmered to begin with. You’d always been cooler than them, but watching you now there was a certain air to you that belonged to a grown woman, someone comfortable and confident and in their element. You were positively swimming in the sunlight the entire afternoon. It was like you had this sort of magnetic pull to all things good, rich, and warm. People wanted to be around you. And god, did this prove that.

By night time, people were finally starting to leave. The sun hung low in the darkening sky, making the fairy lights glow stronger now. The few people that were staying with you for the rest of Thanksgiving weekend had disappeared to their rooms. Besides the waitstaff still milling about, it was just you, Patrick, and Art. The two of them hadn’t meant to stay so long, really. It wasn’t like they were forcing themselves to stick around and be acknowledged by you in a way that felt meaningful. Sure, you’d had your small talk and cracked a few inside jokes, but as much as neither of them wanted to admit it, they needed more. If it was hard to get your attention before, it was nearly impossible now. They were surrounded by so many people who all wanted to network and talk and introduce themselves, they found themselves mingling with your friends, some of them people who they’d seen on screen in the past year, more than you. They’d been dragged onto the dance floor multiple times by multiple acquaintances, only to gawk at you swaying your hips rather than actually dance themselves. It became overwhelmingly clear, in the midst of their increasingly present desperation, that they should’ve accepted your offer to stay in this castle of a house for the weekend. Neither of them had packed a bag.

“This is awkward, we’re the only ones left,” Art sighed, still sitting at their table.

“Let’s just… wait, okay? She might come back out."

"And give us a little speech?"

"Yeah, asshole, maybe she will."

At that very moment, you appeared again, this time clad in a two piece linen pajama set. You didn’t miss the way both their eyes trailed up your legs as you stood in front of them, arms crossed, smiling expectantly.

“I was hoping you two would still be here,” you said. You glanced between the two of them, that awkward silence filling the air once again. “C’mon. Let’s talk.”

You turned and walked back inside, the two of them trailing behind you.

"Your house is fucking sick by the way. I mean holy shit," Art blurted once you got to the main entrance hall.

"Feel like I just walked into a page of Architectural Digest," Patrick added on.

You led them up the stairs. Both their eyes dropped to your ass, which poked out just a bit from under the pair of shorts you wore. Silently watching the way your body curved as you walked.

"Ha, thanks. I think I did pretty okay for myself," you replied.

You led them to the den on the second floor and sat criss cross apple sauce on the lush green couch. Art sat on your left, Patrick on your right. Patrick spread his legs and Art had one foot up on the couch, bouncing against his knee.

“Sorry we didn’t get to talk much. I was so busy being the host of the year that I didn’t pay enough attention to you two. My favorites.”

Art chuckled,

“Favorites? You’re just saying that.”

“No, I’m serious! D’you know how much I missed you guys?”

Patrick scoffed playfully,

“All those TV interviews I watched of you? I wouldn’t even be thinking about us.”

You couldn’t help but grin, that warmth coming through once again. It nearly made the two men melt.

“Well I was. I always think about you guys.”

Now came Patrick’s voice again, a heaviness to it that almost made you jump,

“Do you think about anything specific?”

Although it had been nearly a decade since you’d last seen each other, you didn’t miss a single thing about either of them. Patrick didn’t mince words, and he never shied away from not just hinting at, but blaring his salacious intentions every time he spoke. You tilted your head towards him, a cool smile tugging at your lips.

“Just what good times we had.”

A silence, accented with a flood of nostalgia and a pointed reference to those “good times” permeated the air. You took a moment to gaze at the two of them ever so softly — enough for them to feel it, but not enough to make them squirm (though, they were easy to make squirm)— before you decimated the silence by slapping your hands down on either of their thighs and squeezing endearingly.

“So tell me, where’ve you two been? I’m not the only one on TV these days.”

“Ahh, you don’t wanna hear about boring tennis,” Art waved a hand of dismissal.

You chortled, a trademark of yours that Art and Patrick had always poked fun at in school,

“You’re right, I don’t.”

“You still laugh the same,” Patrick said, grinning like he was trying not to but was unable.

You chuckled, this time low in your throat, and turned your head to face him again. You and Patrick were similar in the sense that you were always pushing the boundaries, tiptoeing closer and closer to the line — but the three of you had never quite established where that was. At some point, you were all just too close to even think about “the line” or “boundaries” — all of you appeared clueless to societal expectations of friendship, spurting a sort of cultlike relationship where everyone else was an outsider.

“Do I?” smiling at him like you were warning him not to tease.

“Yeah, that little snort you do,” Patrick replied, unshaken.

“You do do a little snort,” Art chimed in, always chirping like he spoke from a less nefarious place.

“And if I get started on you guys’ little tennis grunts?” you grinned fully now, showing teeth, looking between the two of them and leaning back a bit.

They followed, leaning back against the couch and keeping their heads in line with yours so you were never too far away from them, each of them turning their heads to look at you.

“No way you actually watch us,” Art replied.

“I do!” you insisted. “Seriously, if you’d asked anybody here you would know.”

“Sure, let me just strike up conversation with George Clooney,” Art shot back.

“Ha-ha,” you bleated sarcastically. “I don’t even know him… but I have walked past him once on the carpet.”

“Look at you,” Patrick smirked. “Little Miss Superstar.”

He punctuated his sentence with a hand on your knee. Your eyes flickered over to him and you caught the way his Adam's apple bobbed in his throat when he swallowed, felt the way he gazed up at you. You didn’t miss the desire twinkling in his eyes.

Then Art, always second but not necessarily last,

“She’s our little superstar, you know that, right?”

His hand just gently grazing your shoulder.

You let them revel in the moment for as long as you felt appropriate, then huffed.

“You know you guys can stay for the weekend, right? I mean, you should.”

“Oh… no, we wouldn’t wanna impose,” Patrick said, his hand slinking away from your knee.

Another chortle from you,

“You wouldn’t be. This is a five-bedroom house. It’s fine. Besides, don’t you guys wanna actually catch up? I’ll let you torture me with tennis talk.”

Art started to stammer,

“I-I mean… we didn’t bring anything.”

“Just our idiot selves,” Patrick added.

“Don’t worry. I’ll get Charles to get you guys all set up.”

“Charles?”

“Oh, he’s my assistant,” you said nonchalantly as if it were nothing. “You’re not fighting me on this. I want to spend some quality time with my boys. Don’t make me have to beg for it.”

“We could never make you beg for anything,” Art replied, just a little too quickly.

“I know, Art, that’s why I love you,” you grinned over at him. “So, are we all in agreement? Stay with me. Just this weekend.”

“Yes,” they both replied a little too quickly this time.

You bit your lip, suppressing a smile.

“You know… I really, really missed you guys. And those good times we had.”

You let the memory of that night of almosts in London resurge, let their minds run amuck with whatever teenage fantasy was still left over from that night. A moment so brief it could almost be forgotten, could even be flagged as incidental, accidental. Still, the three of you knew, even as grown adults (especially as grown adults), that it would always stick and remain unresolved, unless someone ran to the rescue with some sort of solution. Once again they held their breaths. You stood up, glanced between the two of them like you were sizing them up, and then smiled as if nothing had happened at all — you let them breath.

“Your bedroom’s the second on the right when you leave here. Charles will help you get set up— I’ll see you guys in the morning for breakfast.”

And just like that, you were gone. The air in the room seemed to clear. Your presence was like a thousand tons of pressure weighing on their bodies and their minds. Finally, they could breathe.

They glanced at each other with the same longing, almost nervous expression — they were just two pubescent boys all over again.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

“I think we should just go for it.”

Patrick lay on his back, looking up at the ceiling with his hand on his stomach, speaking aloud as if into the clouds. Art, who had been gazing into the distance, sitting up against the wall on his side of the room, shook his head at Patrick’s words.

“What are you talking about Patrick?”

The two of them sat in the room that you had put together. They had showered and dressed in the pajamas that were waiting for them, just as you said they would be. The house was practically silent, it was the dead of night. Though you’d left hours ago, that same heaviness in the air seemed to remain in their chests.

“You know… I mean, she invited us here for a reason, don’t you think?”

Art glared over at Patrick, his brows furrowed and his mouth twisted in a frown,

“Don’t be a creep. We’re her friends.”

“Who want to fuck her, and she knows it. Pretty sure she wants to, too.”

“That was high school, Pat. Get over yourself.”

“Like you weren’t getting your dick wet just from looking at her. C’mon.”

Art throws a pillow at Patrick. It lands square at his feet.

“Don’t be disgusting.”

“I’m just saying, she’s not innocent. She knows what she’s doing. She’s just as perverted as the both of us.”

“Yeah? So what are you gonna do about it?”

“Fucking — I don’t know, something. We should just both go over there and knock on her door.”

Art couldn’t help but sigh heavily — Patrick was always creating some elaborate plot or scheme, but rarely did he ever actually go through with something unless Art was onboard.

“Patrick, she’s not trying to have a threesome with us. I’m not interested in your porn addict fantasies. Plus it’s the middle of the night, she’s probably asleep. Think she’s gonna wanna sleep with two idiots who fucked up her nighttime routine?”

“So then why are you still here?” Patrick retorted.

“What? What do you mean?” Art tried to sound normal, but his defenses were up, and they both knew exactly why.

Patrick turned so he was on his side, facing Art, making sure his words hit just right.

“You know what I mean. You could’ve just gone home. Could’ve told her that we’ll catch her some other time. But look at you, sitting here, feigning innocence. She’ll think we’re cowards, you know. Seven years later and we still can’t come out and say what is that we want.”

Art swallowed, staring blankly into the distance like Patrick’s words didn’t sting his side. He was right. He almost always was, even if his wording wasn’t the most politically correct or precise. It was just how they were — one too careful, the other one so not. Most of the time, they came together to balance each other out: like fire and ice. But sometimes, like this time, they just threw each other out of whack – an oil spill in a pristine lake.

“I want a friendship. If you want a fuck, go and tell her that. Goodnight, Patrick,” Art spat, rolling onto his side and turning his light off.

Patrick sighed heavily like a petulant little boy who’d just been denied a cookie. Maybe in college or high school, Art would have been all ears, and they would have risen from their beds like triumphant kings, and gone on the hunt for their king. But maybe he was right — that was high school. They were too old now, and it was embarrassing. At least if Art had agreed, even if he didn’t fully believe in Patrick, they would’ve gone in together. And so, swallowing his disappointment, Patrick stared up at the ceiling, ruminated for just a bit, and then turned off his light, forcing his eyes shut so he’d fall asleep faster.

1:10 AM.

That was the time on the clock when Art opened his eyes next. He woke with a start, like there was something he was meaning to do. Then immediately, he was a bit disoriented. This room was far too big. It wasn’t his. He remembered where he was, and just what he had to do. He rose like an automaton and found his feet swinging to the floor. He threw on the Calvin Klein shorts and shirt your assistant had given him (his pair was white, Patrick’s was black), and slid easily into his slippers.

Only once he stood did he really catch his breath, and seemingly also his determination. It was like he knew what he was doing, and he was completely okay with it. He even peered over just slightly, to see if Patrick was still asleep. And by the slow rise and fall of his body on his side, he could tell that he was. He was stuck in this dream state between idiocy and confidence, making for mindless determination as he sauntered out of the room and down the hall. He had intent, his head was screwed on straight. He knew where your room was, and he practically marched down the end of the hall.

As soon as he reached your door, he realized what he was doing, truly realized. He stood there stock still, like a rabbit that had just gotten caught eating a carrot from someone’s garden. He was suddenly confronted by the fact that he was completely alone; your room was at the very end of the hall and completely cut off from the other rooms. Now the heartbeat in his chest was loud and clear, and the slight shifting sound of the fabric of his shorts rubbing against his inner thigh sounded like nails on a chalkboard. Nervous tics settled in, and he felt a rattle go down his spine at the recognition of what he was doing— the sheer arrogance, the assumption he was making. He thought of Patrick, and the betrayal this would be, considering he had just shut him down so profusely earlier. He thought of the fact that it was so easy for him to be so double-sided, to just get up and attempt it on his own, even making sure that Patrick couldn’t possibly be involved. How easy it was for him to be so unfair. He thought of himself, standing there with suddenly sweaty palms and a dry throat. Like a high school boy with blue balls.

What are you doing?

He thought to himself. He almost turned around, but he heard humming from the other side of the door. No doubt your voice, and no doubt you were very much awake. He could hear music, albeit muffled. He swallowed, closing his eyes like he was bracing for impact, and sighed. If he could remember the words to recite Hail Mary, he would have. Eyes still closed, he knocked. He heard the slight pause on the other side and imagined you perking up slightly and looking around the room to make sure you weren’t just hearing things. Despite his embarrassment, the knock was firm. It was clear it was someone else on the other side of the door. And so, a few seconds later, you swung the door open.

“Art,” you said, a hint of both surprise and relief in your voice.

“YN,” he replied, saying your name like it was a period to a sentence.

You were clad in a cream-colored silk slip with a lace trim. A dainty gold necklace adorned your neck, flush against your collarbone. You’d changed again since the last time he saw you, and this outfit did not make it any easier for him to tear his eyes off of you, starting from the necklace, to your breasts, to your legs. The slip was short and nearly see through, revealing your thighs which looked so soft and plush. The pucker of your nipples sheened underneath the thin fabric. The way it clung to your body was almost maddening. You looked fresh as a daisy — like you’d spent hours in the bath, rubbing countless creams and gels against your skin. Art felt suddenly embarrassed like he had interrupted your girl time with his boyish, base desires. You pulled him out of it though, with a slight smile and kind eyes looking up at him.

“You doing okay?” you asked almost playfully, still grinning slightly.

“Yeah, I just uh… wanted to… talk to you,” Art said, not even making eye contact with you and instead very obviously peering inside of your room. You looked over your shoulder like you were trying to see what Art was looking at, then looked back at him. Finally, he was making eye contact with you. He felt like you were scrutinizing him, searching for something to validate this interaction, to validate him. Your warm smile didn’t look all that different from a smirk anymore.

“Well. I am the host. Who’d I be if I didn’t indulge a late night chat?”

You stepped aside, pushing the door wide open with your back. You nodded at him like a coach, beckoning him,

“Come in.”

And so he stepped inside, and you closed the door behind you. Your room was how he’d expected it to be — reflective of your personality as long as he’d known you, but a hint more sophisticated. Everything rested on a plush chenille carpet. Your mattress, adorned with plush, deep red and green linens, sat on a large wooden bedframe, above which posters of your favorite bands and writers hung — Audre Lorde, Led Zeppelin, James Baldwin, Khruangbin. Across from your bed, there was an almost bulky yet fitting antique dresser. On top of it sat a 1935 Remington typewriter. In the corner, a leather armchair sitting beneath a scallop shade floor lamp, accented by a magnificent bookshelf behind it that was positively full. A desk, scattered with papers and pens and a pair of glasses, yet still tidy. And a vanity, where Art imagined you’d been just a moment before he came in. And dim, yet comforting lighting.

“Wow,” Art couldn’t help himself — he truly was an admirer of the details, the little things. And clearly, so were you. It had gotten you this far. He sauntered over to the typewriter on your desk, fiddling with the keys just a bit and tapping the top. You giggled at his nerdy lopsided smile. “This is sick.”

You smiled, placing two hands on your hips, beaming like a proud parent,

“She doesn’t work, but she’s beautiful. That’s honestly my most prized possession.”

Art grinned, truly touched. He turned to face you straight on, feet away from where you stood at the bed.

“I’m so proud of you, you know.”

The veritas in his voice rendered you bashful for just a moment, looking down and huffing an almost dismissive laugh,

“C’mon, Art, don’t go all soft on me now.”

Art rose to his own defense,

“I’m serious, YN! Look what you’ve done for yourself… I mean, I couldn’t expect any less, though.”

You waved your hand with a cheeky eye roll, and he started walking towards you, his footsteps causing the floor beneath to creak slightly. It was almost suspenseful, but you weren’t intimidated or in danger, just deeply intrigued and honestly, excited. You watched him, positively ensnared, as he closed the distance between the two of you.

He took two of your hands in his own like he was putting his life into your hands. That charming smile of his reared its head, accompanied by his blue-brown eyes, sparkling and wet and smiling too,

“We both are, you know. Proud of you.”

You smiled, genuinely at first. Then, it flickered. By the way he faltered momentarily, losing grip of the power trip that he dove into headfirst, you could tell he noticed. Your genuine smile turned slightly smug.

“Both of you? Why is Patrick not here, then, telling me how proud he is?”

Art did his best to keep smiling smoothly, cocking his head to the side slightly as if to say what can you do?

“He’s asleep.”

“Right… it is like, one AM. I’m surprised you’re even up, or that you assumed I would be," you kept on prodding.

“Hmm,” he smirked. He shrugged all too casually, so much so that it was cocky. “Guess I’m not that tired.”

“Mmm,” you hummed, nodding sympathetically.

The both of you relished in this little game you were playing, a game of so few words but oh so much meaning. You held his gaze for just a moment longer, watching as his flickered from your eyes to your lips and back up. Then you sat down wordlessly onto your bed, never tearing your eyes away from his. You patted the spot next to you, and he followed, taking a deep breath that never seemed to exhale. You were sealing his fate in this one moment.

“I spend a lot of my time holed up in here. That’s why I make it as peaceful as I possibly can. Beautiful too, but not too beautiful. Otherwise, I’d just be distracted and a bit disgusted,” you chuckled at the end.

“Beautiful. Right,” Art replied, his gaze burning a hole into you.

A beat.

“So what’d you wanna talk about, Art?”

He knew he couldn’t be imagining the dulcet innocence in your voice that suggested anything but innocence all the same, nor the flicker of desire in your inquiring, wide eyes. All of it, combined with the slight pout on your lips, seemed to come together to create a face that was almost begging. His entire body softened. His eyes went heavy with the confession that was his utter, depraved need to have you. He slowly pulled his bottom lip into his mouth with his tongue and blinked slowly, seemingly unaware of the fact that he was leaning in more and more with every passing millisecond. You stayed put where you were, wanting him to chase you through and through. You kept that poker face, like you didn’t feel your heart racing too. As his face inched closer to yours, his hands started to roam as well, and you stifled a whimpery breath at the touch of those hands against your bare skin. For some reason, you’d always thought he’d have such baby-soft hands, but they were rough and calloused from the weight of the tennis racket that was forever stationed between them. It only made the touch that much better, made you realize how long you’d been waiting for this, his rough hands seeping into your skin like a scar of age.

“I don’t wanna talk,” he finally said, his voice lilted with need, and his lips nearly flush against yours.

Finally, he closed the gap between your lips. The kiss was slow and languid, but not for lack of passion. Years of distance would do that, would amplify the mutual pining. You thought, in this interaction that you knew would happen with one or the two of them, that you might be more calm and collected, still wearing that disguise of cool nonchalance, but you were on fire. Your hands were quick to wander as well, up to his face, gripping his jaw, one traveling up to his hair and finding itself tucked beneath the tufts of slight curls. And then his hands were traveling up from your knees to your thighs, to your waist, practically glued to the expensive fabric. The room was silent bar for the sound of the two of you panting like crazed virgins, and the wet sounds of your kissing.

You needed to gain control back, and quickly. So you pulled away, putting on your best smirk. Deep down, you felt like Art knew it was an act, like he was looking right through you. But at the same time, you knew he was far too ecstatic and anticipatory to call it out or really even notice it in full. And besides, you didn’t care. It was you who held all the glory, both back then and especially now.

“You two place a bet or something? That was quick.”

Art was still breathing heavily, gazing at you like you were the solution to all his problems. His hands were still roaming widely, like your body was an expanse of wild land, his hands gripping your shoulders and caressing your arms up and down. The confidence boost in him was visible and almost amusing.

“No bets… but Patrick was saying…”

“What was he saying, hmm?” you placed a hand on his chest and caressed the warmth there. “Why’d you come here, Art? Thought you should close the gap, huh? Answer the age-old question? Wanting to prove yourself?”

You slipped your hand between his legs, grasping the meat of his inner thigh and glaring into his eyes. You felt how he stilled, how his confidence stuttered. Both because he’d been called out, and because if he wasn’t hard before, he was raging now.

“No…” you squeezed his thigh, your hand ghosting over the erection that sat directly above it, forcing the truth out of him with your touch. He shuddered. “Maybe. Yeah, fuck. Yes. I-I wanted to prove myself.”

“Yeah?” you murmured, slinking towards him like a black cat. You placed one leg over his lap, straddling him. Positioning yourself so your clothed cunt was directly over his erection, which dared to rip through both his boxers and his shorts. You rolled your hips over his cock gently, just once. “This helping you prove yourself?”

You pushed him back, back, back, until his head rested firm on the pillow and you were directly above him, the shape of your entire body clear to him as you straddled him on your bed. He couldn’t speak, only stare up at you in awe, his heavy breaths loud and desperate. You only stayed like this on top of him for a minute before you shimmied down until you were at face level with his crotch. You let your hands explore the expanse of his chest and stomach over his white t-shirt, and then took the bottom of it in your mouth, pulling it up with your teeth in a motion so effortless and tigress-like that Art nearly came on the spot.

“Hmm?” you probed him to answer the question with a demanding hum, the soft fabric of his t-shirt still in between your teeth, gazing up at him from beneath wispy lashes. You let go once he was decently exposed, his tight stomach rising and falling frantically.

“Fuck, yes,” he rattled, his hips bucking up involuntarily.

You pushed his hips back down immediately and like a reflex, he started to apologize,

“Sorry, I’m sorry.”

You ignored him and instead, you practically ripped the shorts off of him and started to palm him through his boxers, admiring the way his cock twitched and jumped beneath the small of your hand. You were attentive, watching as precum started to leak from his tip onto his boxers. You tsked.

“We’ll have to get someone to wash those.”

He squirmed and swallowed a wild grunt in his throat. His head was fully thrown back like he was in the most immense pleasure of his life, and you hadn’t even really started yet. You ground the part of your hand just above your wrist over his erection before peeling his boxers off. You watched as his cock sprung up in the air, thick and red and leaking. A tuft of strawberry blonde hair sat at his mound, but he was still put together. You sat up just a bit so you could place your hand on his cheek lovingly.

“Look at me, Artie.”

Your voice was so enchanting and soft that he almost forgot you were fucking his entire mind up, and he opened his eyes and looked down at you with the shaft of his cock enclosed in your hand.

“Fuck,” he huffed, resisting the urge to throw his head back again.

You maintained eye contact with him as you circled your finger over his wet, pleading tip, spreading the leaking precum around the head of his dick. He glanced away from you and looked at what you were doing, causing his eyes to roll back in his head. It was taking everything in him not to give in completely, and not to cum.

“No- no - I… I wanna make you feel good first. Please.”

Something in Art’s voice nearly made your heart drop — the wholehearted desperation and earnestness in it. It also made your pussy throb around nothing. The whole night Patrick and Art had been desperate, but now it was like you were finally seeing the extent of it. It was somehow endearing, a reminder of the love between all three of you. Art had always been a giver, and he sought out praise any place he could get it. It came as no surprise to you that he was the same now, but still, it made you indescribably horny.

You hardly realized you hadn’t responded. That wasn’t supposed to be part of your act, but Art was still pleading all the same,

“Can I? Can I just… taste you or — f-feel you, I-”

You kept your wrist moving in slow and controlled motions up and down his shaft, studying his face as you did: the way his eyes fluttered open and closed with a pleasured squeeze, his mouth perpetually open in gratification.

“It’s so fun watching you fall apart, though,” you replied, but you found yourself working your way up anyway, sneaking your legs up his body like a snake, one on either side of him.

He grasped onto your hips immediately, groaning at just the sight of you. The moonlight shone through the windows and brightened up the darkness of your room, illuminating your features and painting you under something like a spotlight.

“You’re so beautiful,” he breathed, looking at you with hooded eyes. You steadied yourself, your hand reaching out to grab the bedframe and one of his hands gripped the fleshy underside of your thigh to help you. The more you inched up, the more he could see up the slip, catching a glimpse of your cotton panties, cream-colored with a tiny black bow in the middle. The print of your cunt through them was like an outline, a map to promised land. He sucked in a breath, almost like he was in pain. Your necklace dangled just inches away from your neck, like it was teasing him too.

“Wanna taste me?” you asked teasingly, lifting your hips above his face and hovering there, forcing him to tilt his head back and look up directly at your cunt, still hidden beneath your panties. You rolled your hips, letting your clit brush against the tip of his nose. He was enamored by the scent, had to physically stop himself from taking a deep sniff. “Hmm?”

“Yes, please, fuck,” he groaned, slightly arching his back up off the mattress just to get closer to you. “Please.”

He pressed a closed-mouth kiss to your clothed cunt, his eyes closed. It was such a gentle, delicate touch that you almost wouldn’t have believed how desperate he was if it weren’t for the longwinded moan that involuntarily escaped his lips when he made contact with your core. You bit down on your lip, breathing out from your nose, and started to grind your hips against his face. He kept kissing at your cunt over and over until it was almost indiscernible what was fabric and what was flesh— your panties had gotten so wet from his mouth and your slick. The wet trace made the friction unbearable, and your pussy throbbed through the fabric onto his face.

Through a mouthful, Art mewled,

“You taste so good. Please let me eat this pussy.”

This time, his lips peppered kisses around your inner thighs, soft but quick touches, taking in your musk. You decided to stop torturing him, that enough was enough. You lifted yourself up just a bit, and pushed up your slip. You were about to reach your hand down when you stopped and cocked your head with a smirk.

“Go on, then,” you said. Softly, like it was a suggestion more than it was a command. And Art took it in perfect stride.

He practically ripped your underwear off, pushing them to the side with a brute swipe of his hand that contrasted wildly with the gentle kisses he had given you before. Literally pushing your panties to the side. He looked for a second, eyes glazed over at the sight in front of him, taking in the sight of your dripping pussy. It looked so warm and wet and inviting, if he weren’t a better man he would’ve had to force himself not to bury his dick inside of you. When he felt he’d gotten a good look of it, savored the moment just enough, he wrapped his arms around your waist, smashing your cunt against his face. His mouth connected with your folds and you felt him sucking vehemently, before slipping his tongue in between your slit, pressing the tip of it against you. You cried out as he collected all the slick from your weeping center, keeping a hand on your stomach to stabilize himself, the other against your asscheek, squeezing every now and then.

“Oh,” you moaned, immediately starting to grind your pussy against his tongue, your clit once again nudging his nose each time you moved up. Art kept up, positioning the tip of his tongue just right so you rode it each time you wound up, applying just the right amount of pressure. “Yes, Art, just like that.”

“Mm-hm,” he hummed, the vibrations causing you to clench over his face and around the tip of his tongue. Then he flattened his tongue so he could capture the entire surface of your cunt. This time the grip on your ass grew stronger, and soon enough both his hands were squeezing your ass, supplementing your movements. You kept the time you wanted, Art just assisted you in rolling up. You honestly needed it, the way your thighs were starting to shake.

Art hummed satisfactorily again, enclosing his lips around your clit and suctioning, keeping his tongue out just enough so you could feel both sensations. You nearly squealed, your hand flinging down to push your panties out the way even more. Your back arched in pleasure, creating a whole new angle for Art to lick at and please. His fingers pressed deep into the flesh of your ass, like he was leaving some imprint. Now it was you writhing and moaning, but Art never forgot who was in control. That is, until he took firm grasp of your hips and used that to flip you over so that you were on your back. It was like he never lost contact with your pussy, diving right back down before you could even register what had happened. He yanked your panties all the way down and threw them over his shoulder.

“Take your shirt off, baby,” you panted.

He obliged, throwing his shirt off too, and then leaning back in so he could get to work. His arms wrapped around the inside part of your thighs, spreading you apart for him. Before you even felt his mouth, you moaned at the sight of his back and shoulder muscles flexing as he worked. He placed sloppy kisses against your inner thighs and kissed closer and closer to your mound until finally, he was wrapping his lips around your clit once again, using what he could of his tongue to lap up your juices at the same time. You were nearly trembling in pleasure, your hand flying to the back of his head to keep him secure where he belonged. He moaned in response, and you squeezed tufts of his strawberry-blond hair.

“That’s it, I want you to feel good. Make yourself feel good for me,” he murmured, his nose buried in your cunt, eyes closed in satisfaction and concentration. You glanced down to see that he was grinding his hips ever so subtly into the bed — getting off by getting you off, and you threw your head back.

“Mhmm. So good, Art, you’re so good.”

This seemed to set him off into a frenzy as he placed open-mouth kisses against your pussy, kissing it like it was a mouth. His tongue lapped you up and sucked you in, making precise, timed movements with the close of his lips around your clitoris. He used his hands to gently push your legs back so they were angled slightly in the air, the new angle causing you to whine. He angled his neck ever so slightly so he was licking the lips, a slender finger prodding at your wet, tight entrance.

“This okay?” he asked, just dipping the pad of his finger in and opening his eyes to look up at you, as if you weren’t lost in your own world of pleasure, eyes shut tight. You opened them momentarily, looking down at what he was doing, the sight of his face engulfed in your pussy and his finger slipping up and down your slit now. You could only manage a moan along with a strangled nod, and he obliged, sliding a slender finger inside of you. Your pussy stretched and then collapsed around his finger, suctioning in like a glove, and now he used his tongue and lips to go from your lips to your clit, all spit and drool and your arousal as he worked his finger inside of you.

“Fuck,” a strangled grunt left your throat, your pussy tightening around his finger, which made him moan in response. “Art, fuck. I’m getting close.”

“Yeah?” he replied, muffled as it was. He slipped another finger inside of you with ease, wishing he could watch as he felt your pussy sucking him in greedily. Now the slow thrusts of his fingers became more forceful, pushing deep inside of your walls. You nearly screamed at the addition of his finger and the way he curled them inside each time they came to a stop inside of you.

“Y-yes, fuck, just like that, Art, don’t stop.”

He moaned something incomprehensible, or maybe it was a groan mixed with a sigh, as he continued the expert deft movement of his fingers inside of you and mouth against you, bringing you to rock your hips against his face. You were muttering to yourself now: “so close”, “gonna come” until his fingers finally hit that sacred spot, his lips closed just right around your clit, spit drooling from his mouth, and you fell apart. That devastating feeling peaked in your stomach as Art brought you to your high and you gushed around his fingers and into his mouth. Your moans were girlish and deliciously sweet, momentarily wiping away that facade you’d been playing so good at all night.

“Fuck, I’m coming!” it was like you were announcing it to yourself, squeezing your legs around his head and practically clamping down on his hair with your hand as you released. He helped you ride out that high, not stopping, but slowing his fingers and easing his lips against your pussy to keep you grounded.

When you’d finally caught your breath, Art pulled back, his chin and cheeks absolutely soaked.

“You taste so fucking good, YN,” he said it like it was a fact of life, as simple as “the sky is blue,” trying to ignore the fact that his load was prone to explode any second now.

“C’mere, I wanna taste,” you implored. Shakily, he pulled himself up and above you, letting you cradle him in your arms, one around his back and the other cupping the nape of his neck, as you captured him in an open-mouthed, sloppy, slow kiss. You could feel his cock sticking out of his boxers and poking your leg and in one swift movement you slipped your hand between the two of you and pulled him out, your hand wrapping around him. He couldn’t help but take notice of how your hand fit him perfectly, like a glove.

His hips started to stutter, quite literally, he nearly fell on top of you, gasping desperately.

“Fuck,” he drawled slowly, lips still brushed against yours, pinching his eyes closed. “T-this is s-so—”

He spoke between full-body twitches and spasms of his cock. You pouted slightly, running your fingers through his hair,

“Use your words, Artie. Whatsa matter?”

He chuckled, hanging his head low and shaking it slowly,

“It’s just I’m so — fuck,” his words morphed into a whine when you used your finger to circle around his tip, which was positively leaking with precum. “I… I’m so sensitive right now. I’ve been trying not to come for like thirty minutes.”

You both laughed, genuinely amused.

“You wanna come?” you entreated, gazing at him with a look that almost resembled concern.

His smile dropped as his face morphed into that of desperation, that of need, and he nodded earnestly,

“Yes, please. Please make me come, YN. Make me come h-however you want me to.”

“Yeah?” you implored, the palm of your hand closing over his tip to gather slick and then spreading it all down his shaft. “Want you to look at me while you come. Can you do that for me?”

Art felt pressure building in his chest as his breaths grew more and more erratic and he forced himself to look you in the eyes, responding with an affirmative albeit strangled whimper that was supposed to resemble the word “yes.” You rewarded him by stroking him faster now, your hand a tight grip around his shaft, the sound of his wet skin and your open hand slapping against his balls overwhelmingly lewd. His eyes fluttered closed for just a minute, and his head cocked to the right, his mouth opening while no sound came out. His eyes rolled back in his head, and his hips started to buck up into your hand, supplementing your strokes.

“F-fuck, YN, that’s– fucking incredible, Jesus Christ. Please, I’m gonna–” he stammered, looking up at you like he was pleading with you. You simply returned his gaze and smiled, that warm, all-knowing smile of yours, and he fell apart. His entire body, hot to the touch, seemed to shake uncontrollably as he burst, thick ropes of cum spilling out of him and splashing onto your hands and your thighs.

“Fuck!” he whined almost pathetically, his hips faltering to an unsteady stop as he released.

You kept your hand there, slowing to languid, gentle strokes as he rode out his high until you were sure he’d emptied the last of his cum in the crease between your thigh and hip. He tried his best not to collapse on top of you, but you knew he was weak.

“It’s okay,” you reassured him, and he fell on top of you with a limp thud, groaning as he buried his face in your chest.

The two of you lay there catching your breaths, sweaty and hot to the touch. When Art finally got up, he laid next to you on his side. His face was red, and not just because of the exertion.

“Fuck. I’m so sorry, I-I don’t know what came over me, probably crushed you,” he laughed apologetically.

You replied by using two fingers to gather what you could of his cum, smiling writhely as you licked them clean. He watched intently, absolutely enraptured. You did it again, reaching down to your thigh and gathering up his cum. This time, your fingers prodded at his lips. He nearly rattled with arousal. Easily, he obliged, opening ever so slightly, and wrapping his lips around your fingers, sucking the taste of himself clean off. You smiled at him admiringly. He couldn't help but laugh around your fingers,

"Fuck, that's so hot. I'm so sorry."

“Don’t apologize. You did so well.”

Suddenly, Art sat up.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, okay?”

You giggled, your eyes twinkling as you looked up at him, amused by this sudden display of responsibility.

“Do I seem that fragile?” you teased.

“Oh, on the contrary. I just, I don’t know. Aftercare is important.”

So you spend the next half hour being doted on by Art as he soaped down your body in the tub. It’s the most intimate you had been the entire night, and he realized now that this was the most detailed he’d seen your body. He wanted you like this forever, being carefully pampered under his adoration, gazed upon by his eyes only. For a moment, you worried that this was somehow crossing a line, but you swallowed those thoughts just as quickly as they surfaced. The line had already been crossed when you reached out to them. Sure, you wanted to see how your two favorite white boys were doing, and you were excited to rekindle the friendship that had molded your life for so long.

But like Art walking to your door, you knew what it was that you wanted, and you knew that you were opening up a can of worms. Besides, you really did love Art, and you loved Patrick too. It was the sort of platonic love that could only be understood by people who had been friends as long as the three of you had. The kind of love that was still there for the taking years later. It didn’t need constant stoking to keep the flame. So, neither of you made this routine— this gentle touch in the water, loofah running across your back and Art’s fingers digging into your shoulders to loosen you up — a big deal.

By the time the water drained, you were absolutely zonked. You didn’t realize how late it was and just how much energy the whole ordeal had taken out of you. Your orgasm was so strong you were surpised you didn’t fall asleep then and there. Art used a towel to dry you off and had to practically carry you to your bed. He was lucky you didn’t see the shit eating, self-satisfied grin on his face — he liked being a caregiver, and throughout all the years that you had been friends, it was rare that you ever let him take care of you like this.

You threw the sheets over yourself, lashes batting as you looked over at Art, who was kneeling on the floor next to you, at face level with you. He was smiling so wholesomely that you couldn’t help but reach your hand out and stroke his face, your thumb resting on his sharp jaw.

“You’re good to me, Art. You both are. I really did miss you two. I keep saying it but I want you to know it’s true. Didn’t just invite you guys here to live out some old fantasy.”

“I missed you so much,” Art could melt from the touch of your hand on his cheek. He tilted his head slightly to kiss your fingers gently, cupping your hand over his. “I know you, YN. You don’t have to explain yourself to me.”

You yawned,

“I’ve been a rotten friend, though. Don’t know what took me so long to invite you guys to one of these. I thought about it every year, but decided against it every ime.”

Art waved his hand, shaking his head in dismissal of your comments,

“You’re a perfect friend. We’re the rotten ones.”

“See? You’re just the sweetest,” you grinned, your eyes sparkling. “I’d let you sleep with me, but—”

“Patrick,” he concluded.

“Don’t want him to be mad you didn’t tuck him in,” you giggled.

In the back of Art’s mind, he wondered if it would’ve gone the same way if Patrick had been the one to knock on your door. He knew it would, but it was nice to pretend that it was something he had to think about. He wondered what you would’ve done if they’d both shown up. Almost laughed to himself at how little self-control he had, while you were like a rock.

“He’s asleep anyway, but I should be there in the morning so things aren’t weird… things won’t be weird, will they?”

You shook your head, though some part of you knew that Patrick would even out the scorecard soon enough. He always did, competitor that he was. He was so hard to resist, and it’s not like you were resisting him very much in the first place — you’d invited the both of them, it was just a quirk that Art had been the one to do it first. You’d half expected Patrick to show up by himself, if it wasn’t the two of them. But one thing about Art was that he wasn’t some stick in the mud — he could be a wild card, and if he was anything like that ball of energy he was back in high school, you knew he could get shit done.

“It could never be weird. It’s us,” you replied with certainty.

Art leaned in, pressing his lips against yours in a soft kiss.

“Go back to bed, Artie. I’ll see you at breakfast,” you grinned.

“Goodnight,” he crooned.

“Goodnight,” you replied.

He stood up and walked out the room, though part of him was longing to stay there for just a bit longer, if not the whole night. But he knew this was just a one-time thing, just a way to let out that pent-up tension. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t already thinking about showing up to your door tonight, and the next night, spending each warm summer night here buried inside of you, pulling his name from your mouth in pleasured sobs, making you come undone with his fingers once again. But, dutiful as he was, he walked back to their room, careful not to make a sound as he pulled off his shirt and stepped back into bed— staring up at the ceiling while he replayed moments over again in his mind. Like high school all over again.

#challengers #challengers smut #challengers fanfic #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson smut #art donaldson #art donaldson x black reader #patrick zweig x black reader #x black reader #x reader #patrick zweig smut #art donaldson x patrick zweig #art donaldson x black! reader #patrixk zweig x black! reader

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twisted-wonderland-but-gayer · 1 year ago

Note

Hi!! Really like your writing could we possibly get a drabble or something like that of Middle Schooler Yuu?

Hell-Raising Gremlin: A Middle Schooler

Synopsis: Yuu is a cringy middle schooler that curses a lot and insults people

Cw: Cringe writing. Yuu is 12 and Gn. Cursing. They call Riddle stupid and tell Azul he's gay. No romance ofc. Not proofread

“What the fuck?” Was one of the first things that came out of your mouth when you kicked off the door to your coffin. A crowd of eerily robed people turned to stare at you as if you were the weird one for wearing normal clothes. Each person had matching eyeliner and wait, does that person have horns… and a tail? What sort of fucked up LARP furry cult were you kidnapped into?

“Honestly…” Another voice rang out “Coming through the door of your own accord is virtually unheard of, why are you in such a rush?” A bird masked individual said as he approached you, two glowing yellow orbs peaking through the mask, each part of his person accessorized to fit a perfect aesthetic. Okay, thats a pretty cool costume you’ll admit, but it still doesn't change that you are obviously in the wrong place.

"Um… probably because some strange carriage literally kidnapped me and forced me into a coffin and then I woke up here? I don't think I'm in the right place."

"Hmm I don't think you are entirely lucid yet… a side effect of the teleportation magic perhaps…" the man wondered out loud.

"Can you break character for a second and tell me where the hell I am, dude?" You glared at him and a few of the weird adults around you laugh. You keep a brave face despite the fear building up.

"You are at Night Raven College, a prestigious magician training school in Twisted Wonderland." The masked man states bluntly and confidently like that explains everything.

"Didn't I just say to break character? I'm not playing DND here or anything, I need to get home, I'm not supposed to be here in this weird cult thing… I need to get home!" a few more laughs reverberated in the crowd.

"I'm being serious, this is a school for magicians"

"Right well… I don't have magic. How's that?" You give a smug smirk. "So please send me home?"

The man just gives an infuriating blank expression. "Why, you are here because the black carriage recognized you as a powerful mage! You should be quite proud of that given how young to appear to be! Please stand by and the mirror will sort you into your dorm shortly!"

"I was kidnapped first of all, and I don't even have that weird robe thing! Look dude, you got the wrong person! I'll go up to that mirror right now and show you!" You assume this "magic' mirror was just some computer check in thing. Hopefully when you give your name it'll prove you aren't on the list of whatever the fuck this is.

"My, so hasty… such is the youth I suppose. Fine then, go up to the mirror."

You must give props to this actor for staying in character the full time, but now wasn't the time. As you approach the mirror you hear whispers, and you see 5 individuals and a floating tablet standing by it, looking as superior as they could. Some glared at you, others looked intrigued.

The mirror spoke, "State thy name."

"Yuu…"

"You're soul is… invalid… I cannot read it. Therefore I sort you in no dorm."

The crowd murmurs amongst themselves as the masked person looks genuinely surprised. "Well then. I must apologize, there must be some mistake." You exhale in relief. Finally he gets it. "Mirror, send this person home!" No response. Why was he asking the mirror?

"Ahem… Mirror take this person—"

"I cannot."

"... huh…" You frown

"This child's home is nowhere. They do not exist here. They are from another dimension. Therefore, they cannot be sent home."

The crowd's murmurs get louder. You still don't believe in this whole weird magic school act thing. "Are you fucking kidding me, did I seriously get isekaied by a horse drawn carriage?"

At that you see the floating tablet mute themselves. Before you could even turn around and ask for the masked man to get a real person to send you home, a strange creature runs in front of you. You stared at it in complete shock.

"Mrahaha! If they can't join this school, then there's room for me!" The weird cat thing talks. Flames came out its ears and its tail was forked. What the fuck, what the fuck. How is this cat on fire and talking?

The crowd laughed at the cat's words. "Oh yeah?! I'll show you!" The creature yells out. You didn't think much of it until you saw blue plumes of flames come from its mouth and aim directly into the crowd. The crowd yells and pushes each other around. You could feel the heat.

This couldn't be some high tech animatronic could it? You gawk as banners catch flames and you see some of the mages in the crowd casting water spells to put themselves out. Is this really another world…? No way… no way. You have to get hit by a truck for that! This just has to be a very weird fever dream...

Another blast of flames is fired across from you, growing bigger and bigger, threatening to engulf everything in the room. One person from before lets out an annoyed sigh and you see him turn to approach the flame.

Without thinking you immediately run over to pull him back catching him by surprise and making him stumble. "Dude, what are you doing?!" The doll faced young man looks over at you in shock, before his race reddens.

"How DARE YOU try to—"

"Riddle enough! They were just trying to help!" Another taller green haired mad says with a clover on his face. "Come with me…" the man says before pulling you back protectively.

You watch as the strange ruby-haired man, Riddle– what a stupid name–, approaches the weird cat. He raises his arm before lowering it. "OFF WITH YOUR HEAD!" He yelled, and a strange collar appeared around the cat. The flames around the room suddenly die.

"Hey what gives?! What I'll just… huh?! My magic! Its…"

"Sealed away. That collar around your neck does not allow you to use magic." Riddle states. "No cats are allowed are celebrations, your very existence here is a violation." A few robed figures go to grab their cat and toss him out.

"Damn…" you mumbles as you step put from behind the stranger that protected you.

"You there, child." Riddle states, still looking upset. "What you did was dangerous, you should have never stepped in to try to help."

Oh this dudes attitude pissed you off with how condescending he sounded. "Well sorry for trying to fucking make sure you didn't burn yourself. God forbid I didn't know you could do that weird collar thing."

The green haired man paled and the face of Riddle got red. "Excuse me?! You need to learn how to treat your superiors with respect–"

"I respect whoever respects me regardless of age! And you're not superior at all! You throw tantrums like a kid!" You spat back and the crowd seemed to laugh. The green haired man tries to pull you back. "Come on now, Yuu try to be nice…"

"Why would I? He's the one that started it! He can start yelling at people for no good reason but I can't? Hell who the fuck even names their kid Riddle its such a stupid name!"

Riddle was fuming at this point and everyone just seemed to either cringe or watch in rapt excitement. "IT IS NOT! You have not followed a single rule of the entrance ceremony! Those who don't follow the rules should be punished! Especially rude ones like you!"

"Did you not hear the mirror? I'm not from this world! I literally don't know any rules at all! How are you gonna get mad at me for that?! You're the one that keeps yelling for no reason and then getting mad at me for giving back the same energy? And now you're trying to threaten me!"

"Enough!" The red head yells. "Apologize now or it's off with your head!"

"Oh no my magic that I totally have! I'm so scared! Go ahead and do it! You're only punishing me because I'm right! You can't ever comprehend being wrong so you need to make yourself look stronger in every other way because you're a coward and a control freak! I may not have been in this world long, but something tells me in the real world you can't collar everyone that upsets you! You're a coward and a god damn fucking tyrant that feels the need to prove himself superior to a fucking TWELVE year old just because I had the audacity to try and help you! I am twelve and everyone here appears to be an adult yet none of you are actually helping me! I wanna go home!"

"Enough!" The masked man's voice yells out and you huff and look away. "That is enough for both of you." You look over at another man with blueish hair and glasses along with a mole struggling to hold in a laugh. You narrow your eyes. "Oh I just KNOW your bitch ass isn't laughing with your birthing hips and gay little face!" The man's eyes widen and he stares in shock for moment before looking down at himself. The crowd erupts in laughter.

"Yuu!" The masked man reprimands before sighing. "Dorm leaders! Take your students to their new homes! I will deal with this… situation" As everyone left, you glared at Crowley.

"It's about time you fucking listened me, hot topic wannabe ass." Crowley could tell that this child would fit in perfectly here.

#middle schooler yuu #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #azul ashengrotto #azul ashengrotto x reader #riddle rosehearts #riddle rosehearts x reader #twst meme #twst memes #twst crack #crack #twst x reader #trey clover x reader #trey clover

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etherealily · 1 month ago

Text

ᴛʜᴇ ɢᴏʟᴅᴇɴ // ɴ.ᴊ [1]

Hey, guys. This is one of those Nate drafts I was talking about. Hope you like it. This is a two-part fic.

Nate Jacobs x fem!reader. SFW, but discretion advised. Masochism(?), violence, delusion.

You do NOT have permission to repost and/or translate any of my fics.

Desc. : He recognizes you.

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It's not like Nate didn't know what the fuck he was doing. 90% of the time, he was on top of shit. But then he drank. And then, shit went down.

And unfortunately, the shit that went down was the bouncer of the elite club a couple towns away from East Highland - the one that was known for being freqented by A-listers and the who's who of who's disgustingly wealthy.

Of course, he didn't stay down for long or he'd have been a shitty bouncer, but the element of surprise had really worked out in Nate's favour. No one expects a tipsy high school kid to be able to take down the absolutely ripped bouncer - who was probably the most dedicated to their job because of the celebrities inside - but they really should expect it.

Because Nate Jacobs with alcohol in him was a fucking force to be reckoned with.

With every punch to the face, with every sharp taste of his own blood that touched his tastebuds, he'd never felt more alive. He laughed, reveled in it, even.

"Who the fuck do you think you are, kid?"

Hell if he knew. Right now, though, seeing how frustrated this jacked, violent, adult man was getting when he didn't respond to his punches was making him feel like a god. He must look both pathetic and badass, his head hitting the pavement with an oomph continuously.

The crowd forming around them did jackshit for him, just like in the movies. They just watched the blood. They just observed the bruises form. The door to the club was visible to him each time the guy pulled back and the crowd shifted slightly - until it opened.

"Jesus Christ, Ray, what the hell is going on here?"

"Ma'am, this kid jumped me."

"So?"

"I- ma'am, so I gave him a taste of his own medicine." His fingers still gripped Nate's collar, bloodthirstiness pooling in his eyes. But Nate's eyes were nowhere near his - they were on you. God, in this drunken haze, his mind couldn't seem to place a name to your lovely face, but it definitely knew it.

"Not in front of the club, Ray, God, you're so fucking dense!", you scolded him, your fingers gesturing at the side of your head, clearly absolutely ticked off.

The dazzling gold of your dress shimmered in the bright lights of the street outside the club, almost blinding him. Her name, her name?

Look at me, look at me, look at me, his brain pleaded, but it seemed you were not a mind reader.

"Sorry, ma'am, I was just-"

"Who the hell is he, anyway?", you asked, eyes finally torn away from Ray and trained on Nate.

He was dirt. He was mud. He was a rotting apple. He was nothing under your gaze, and he fucking loved it.

"Dunno.", scoffed Ray, as he pulled off him, standing up. Nate remained on the floor. "Some booze-filled moron."

"The fuck did you just say?", sputtered Nate, coughing up blood in the process.

"Ray, are you fucking insane? You beat up some random kid enough to make him cough out blood?"

"These high schoolers from the neighbouring towns are the insane ones, ma'am. Absolute psychos. They show up shitfaced and ask to come in, picking fights if they can't. This one is worse, he just up and jumped me."

You stared down at Nate as you listened, and he couldn't fight the feeling that slowly, an opinion was forming in your head. An opinion of him. And one that wasn't just him as dirt, insignificant and extremely forgettable. It was one of him as a manic alcoholic.

"Fucking lunatics out here.", you mumbled, patting Ray on the shoulder, sympathetically. "Make sure he gets home."

"I don't even know which town he's from, ma'am."

"Find out."

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The interrogation was fruitless.

Nate was too busy blacking out to even be declared conscious , let alone give any idea of his origins.

So, out there, he sat. Next to Ray, fading in and out, being given water, both to drink, and sprinkled on his face, until the last of the guests had arrived, and the super-elite party had seemed to begin, finally.

And the door opened again, behind them. Ray stood up. Nate thought he stood up too, but he was still just sitting there, pathetic, bloody, and beaten up. Every sound felt muffled to him, your voice from behind him, Ray's voice from in front of him.

"Why is he still out here?" The angel. You.

"He isn't telling me shit, ma'am. Except that he was trying to get in because he lost some bet."

"Get him in, we'll get some food in him.", you sighed, gazing back down at him. Dirt. Mud. Inconsequential. Useless. Nothing. Manic, nothing alcoholic.

Ray scooped him up from under his arm, leaning him against his shoulder. "There we go, kid, c'mon."

Nate groaned, his eyes trying desperately to stay open as they fell on the luminous sign above the establishment : The Golden.

God, the amount of times he and his friends had tried to get in, since they were thirteen was absolutely insane. If only he'd have known all it took was being shitfaced and stupid to get in, he'd have done that a long time ago.

After all, shitfaced and stupid was his default state.

The sounds that were barely murmurs from the pavement outside were devastating roars from inside. A song everyone was screeching along to boomed overhead, overshadowing every thought in his head, the lack of lighting was accounted for by fluorescent wristbands that every celebrity in there wore, and they moved around as people danced, so fast he almost got whiplash.

Basically, the club was doing nothing for his hangover but exacerbation.

"Booth. There."

Ray deposited him in the booth, which he slid into quite pathetically, though now, his consciousness was more in his grasp. The crimson still streaked his face.

"What's your name, dude?"

"WHAT?", he yelled, over the screams of a particularly annoying group of models.

"Name.", you mouthed, waving Ray off before sipping your drink. Vodka spritz, he noted. Classy.

"Nate. Nate Jacobs."

"Nate Jacobs, you're an absolute dumbass, you know that?"

"Yes, ma'am."

You chuckled, looking away from him to the DJ, to the hordes of people having the time of their lives. Nate did, too. He wasn't sure if he saw what you saw, because to his eyes, it was spoiled assholes acting like they couldn't do the same shit in a normal club.

You seemed to see something else, though. He needed to know what.

"What was the bet?"

Nate's eyes tore away from the assholes and ran back to you. "Make out with a guy or fuck a celebrity."

"What?"

"Yeah, of course I didn't choose the first one."

"Which celebrity were you planning to fuck?"

"Oh, 100% Mia Thomas."

"She's a cunt."

"So? Hit and quit."

"Trust me, not with her, you can't."

Noted.

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Hangovers and high school do not mix well. Case in point : Nate Jacobs. Sleeping it off as soon as he got home should have helped, but it did not. He sat there in the back of the class, clutching onto the sides of his desk till his knuckles became white. "Ugh." His teacher droning on about the fucking World War didn't help, it just set his teeth on edge.

"The fuck is he? Where the fuck is he?"

Nate's head lifted up painfully - he felt like he was being stabbed from the inside. His eyes narrowed as they tried to handle the amount of light coming in, adjusting to the unnecessarily, obnoxiously bright classroom around him.

Every single pair of eyes in there seemed to be on him, and for a moment he wondered whether his eyes were actually bleeding.

But then, the eyes all simultaneously turned to the doorway. An angel.

Stood there with a cigarette between your fingers and your piercing gaze running wildly across the room in search for someone, you were terrifyingly ethereal. He was actually 90% sure you were a hangover hallucination.

Phones were whipped out, recording, and boys wolf-whistled. "Nate, there you are, the fuck are you doing in here?" Uh, school?

He couldn't speak. The most he could do was sit up, slightly, but even that caused his head to bludgeon him.

"C'mon.", you called, pointing a thumb at the door. "Let's go, big guy. Now."

"Excuse me, you can't just come into class and-"

"Kindly shut the fuck up. I'm so fucking pissed right now I would actually burn you."

A psychotic angel.

As the door slammed behind him, something told him this wasn't going to be like one of those movies where you tell him you want to fuck the shit out of him.

"I'm going to ask you this once, and once only. You lie to me, I will put a hit on you."

Did you know how much you were turning him on right now? You had to, right?

"Did you, or did you not, talk to the press after you left The Golden?"

"The press? No. I didn't talk to the press." He almost laughed. He'd remember a bunch of mics and cameras in his face.

"Did you talk to anyone?"

He shrugged. "I talked to my friend McKay, my dad, my broth-"

"A skeevy short guy with glasses and a power suit?"

He closed his eyes, willing away the pounding in his head and trying to conjure up some memory. Yes. Yes, he vaguely recalled one such character waddling by him, asking him unnecessary amounts of questions, before he could slump into the cab you'd called for him.

"Yeah, but-"

"But?"

"I dunno, he was just a guy, he didn't have a camera or anything!"

"Rule number one of being a celebrity-adjacent, Nate?", you spat, and he grimaced. "Shut. The. FUCK. Up about us. Okay?"

He wanted to argue he wasn't a celebrity-adjacent, but he was pretty sure you weren't done.

"You know what the press is saying, now? Because of you? Apparently I fucked you and then had you beat up."

Whoa.

"What? But I didn't even talk about sex to him!", he whined. He didn't want you to look at him like he was an idiot! He didn't want you to be mad. He wanted to be dirt under your gaze, not fucking... shit!

"Doesn't matter! HOW FUCKING IDIO-", you cut yourself off, and Nate wanted to believe it was because you were being considerate about his hangover, but you were probably just trying not to waste energy on him. "Okay. You're lucky that there were cameras to disprove that shit, Nate, but I swear to god, stay away, okay?"

From... you? The angel? No, no, no.

"What?" His voice was the least masculine he'd ever heard it to be, but you know what? If you wanted him pathetic, he was already doing what you wanted.

"Stay away from The Golden. You don't belong there. It's not your world."

That should've offended him more than it actually did.

The fact that you were looking, sorry, glaring at him did soften the blow, though.

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TWO MONTHS LATER

"It's a birthday, Nate, c'mon."

"Look, she's a fucking whore, Maddy, you know it. She's rich, yeah, but-"

Nate almost banged her head into the table when she began to laugh.

Nate couldn't wrap his head around that stupid thing in his life called his luck - probably because it was non-existent - because what the fuck? Who knew Maddy's stupid ass babysitting job would somehow lead him back to the memory he'd been wanting to bury deep within him?

Fate's a bitch. And so were you.

"Her being rich has something to do with this because...?", she mused, gently wrapping some hair in her flat iron while glancing at him through the mirror.

"Because?", he sputtered, ready to actually write it down in case her slow brain still didn't get it. "She's also, as I said, a whore! She'll invite every rich boy in the country to her birthday party!"

"You haven't even fucking met her. She's, like, a celebrity. She has to keep up appearances.", informed Maddy, dilligently, like it was her job or something. Poor, gullible, starstruck Maddy. "She's only inviting rich boys because she has to. She told me herself that sh-"

"This ain't a fucking Disney movie, Maddy. You can't be the quirky normal girl who's BFFs with a public figure. It doesn't work like that."

"Normal? Normal?" She turned, raising a brow, almost daring him to repeat himself.

"No, Maddy, don't fucking lose it over a word. I can't do that shit today, I got fucking finals coming up."

"Why do you even hate her so much?"

"She's rich. And a whore."

And I totally embarrassed myself in front of her and I want to kill myself every time I see her on TV.

"You said that already. You don't even know her. You haven't even met her. She doesn't even know I have a boyfriend.", she said, before correcting herself in response to his incredulous glare. "I mean, she doesn't know we're back together."

"Exactly. How close are you guys if you don't find her trustworthy enough to tell her you're with someone?"

"I just don't want to burden her with-"

"Bullshit , Maddy, bull-fucking-shit. She has no burdens. You could tell her you have cancer, it'll just bounce right off her empty head."

"She has so much shit on her plate, and she's constantly stressed out, Nate. So don't even go there.", she warned, checking her lipstick one last time before she began to slip into the 'outfit'.

"You know what she has on her plate? Fucking filet mignon and wagyu steak."

She chuckled, shaking her head as he zipped her up. "You could come, you know? Not like you care about studying anyway."

"I'm not coming to a fucking twee party with wealthy twinks dressed in Balenciaga or something."

"Twinks never wear Balenciaga. That's for strippers."

Now it was his turn to chuckle. "Yeah, sure whatever. I'll buy you anything you want, Maddy, okay? Don't fuck some hot rich twink who's still in the ridiculously expensive closet.", he cautioned, turning her around to face him.

She rolled her eyes. "If I do?"

"I'll fuck your rich whore friend." The fact that his thumb rubbed against her cheek actually meant that he was being serious.

"Y/N wouldn't fuck you if her fortune depended on it.", scoffed Maddy, kissing him on the cheek before throwing him the keys that sat next to his wallet, on her dresser. "Let's go, chauffeur."

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"Maddy! You're here! You look amazing!", you exclaimed, as Maddy ran up to you to hug you. "God, I missed you."

"Happy birthday.", she whispered, squeezing you once before letting go. "Maybe now you can....", she teased, nudging your elbow.

"Oh, come on, Maddy, I'm not going to go sleep with Chris Evans, now, for fuck's sake."

"Why?", she whined. "You know him, and it's finally legal."

You rolled your eyes. "Not everyone finds the same guys as you hot, okay?"

"You're fucking blind if you don't think Chris Evans is hot."

You leaned down, slightly, to whisper. "Why's your chauffeur getting out?"

"Oh, oh, yeah, yeah, yeah.", she giggled excitedly, tugging you along to meet him. "This is my boyfriend."

You almost fucking banged her head on the pavement. "No, Maddy, not the toxic guy again.", you muttered, so only she could hear. She waved you off. Poor, gullible, lovestruck Maddy.

"Hey. Y/N, right? Happy birthday, I guess."

FUCK. Fuck, this guy? The one who bloodied up your best bouncer? The one who almost cost you your career? That dumbass?

You could have sworn he glared. "Yeah, thanks.", you nodded, extending your hand out. He looked at it, then up at you in amusement for a fraction of a second, before taking it. "Nice to meet you, your highness. I'm Nate."

Not another fucking jokester.

"Funny.", you replied, dryly. turning to Maddy. "Your boyfriend coming in?"

Please say no.

"I'm right here, just fucking talk to me. Or do you need fucking butlers to do that for you?"

Based on what Maddy had told you about him, you'd expected that.

"Nate, shut the fuck up.", snapped Maddy, through clenched teeth. "Sorry, babe, he's stressed 'cause of finals."

"I'm sorry, sir, do you have a problem with me?"

"You won't give me the fucking decency of talking to me like a human being, but then, when I call you out on it, you get all polite and all 'Sir', on me, like a cowardly fucking cunt !"

"NATE!"

Maddy's voice cut through the air like the knife that Nate guessed you were fantasizing slitting his throat with right about then.

The music continued to blare from inside the house, but the silence was louder. "I will...", you began, but what the fuck does one say after that? "I will... get you guys drinks."

"No, I'm not fucking staying, you kidding me?"

"Nate.", hissed Maddy, threateningly.

Fine. What-fucking-ever.

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"This food sucks ass, Maddy."

"Ooh, you see that guy over there? The one Y/N's talking to?"

"Looks gay."

"He's not. Apparently, he's one of the most eligible bachelors in the world. Super rich. And he has a thing for Y/N."

"I wonder why.", he sneered, rolling his eyes, trying his best not to imagine what it would be like to break the stupid fucking chandelier above his head.

"He's super rich, Nate. He doesn't need her money."

"I was talking about her tits."

"Nate, if you're jealous, just say so.", sighed Maddy, though the amusement was quite clear in her voice.

"Jealous ?", he muttered, rolling his eyes. Maddy was amazing, but she was also unbelievably perceptive. "Of what?"

"Her life."

Maddy was really pissing him off. When the fuck did she become so smart?

"Okay, so she's rich. Big whoop. It's all Daddy's money."

"First off, she's got a career of her own, y'know? And second off- so? Daddy's money or not, it's more money than you'll ever have. Than we'll ever have."

"How do you even breathe normally around these people without sounding too poor?", he scoffed, downing his drink as he glared at you, giggling away while wearing your Dior bullshit.

"Fake it till you make it, I guess.", shrugged Maddy, not at all answering his question.

She didn't get it.

She was wearing something ethereal. He was in his fucking jeans and a tank top.

Your words echoed in his head, "it's not your world."

"Do you even know anyone else besides the birthday girl?"

"I don't, actually, no."

"So Y/N ditched you.", scoffed Nate, rolling his eyes as he sipped his drink. Holy fucking shit, the liquor was bomb. "Typical."

"You don't even fucking know her, okay?"

"Hey, Mads, all okay over here?", you asked, smiling as you went around your rounds of checking up on your huge guest list.

She nodded, before her eyes travelled back to Harry. She tipped her glass slightly in his direction. "So, how's it going with you and pretty boy over there?"

"Oh my god, was it obvious?"

"Just look at his fuck-me-till-I-die-eyes, girl! Yes, it was obvious!"

Nate hoped he was good at hiding his eye-roll.

"Yeah, well, you know, whatever. He's just-"

"If you say 'just a friend', I'm pouring this champagne on your head.", warned Maddy.

"He's just... sexy. And that's all he has going for him. No... sparks, you know? No... flair. Just a dick and abs.", you laughed, and Maddy joined in, watching you sip your drink.

"And guys are the 'objectifiers'? Good to know."

"Okay, seriously dude, what the fuck is your proble-"

Maddy shook her head, snapping her fingers in your face. "Sh. Let it go."

"No, I'm not fucking letting it go, Maddy, he can't just come to my birthday, and comment on every fucking thing I do!"

"Well, then, maybe I should leave! This isn't my world, anyway!"

The fuck was your problem? It's like you got offended at every single thing anyone said, and they had to bend over backwards apologizing because you were rich? No fucking way.

"Yeah, you should!"

"Come on, Maddy, let's go.", grumbled Nate, clenching his jaw as he grabbed Maddy's arm.

"Maddy, you're staying!", you ordered, glaring.

"The hell you are.", he growled, tugging her along.

"Maddy, stay !"

The party watched him and suddenly, he was getting beat up in front of the club all over again, but this time, he was the aggressor.

Fine. Whatever. Nate had at least an iota of self respect.

"See you at school, Mads.", he scoffed.

The glass in his hand made contact with the floor, shattering into a million little pieces.

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SIX MONTHS LATER

"Fuuuck.", he groaned, fistfuls of his hair spewing out from the gaps between his fingers.

"She's not fucking dead. Just pay her."

McKay better have fucking life insurance, because he was about to stab him.

"I shouldn't have fucking drank, I shouldn't have fucking drank...', he muttered, slamming his hand down on the steering wheel as he fixed his eyes in front of him, at the car he'd almost run off the cliff.

He heard the distinct sound of a car door slam, and out you walked, indignant - and rightfully so.

"Dude, dude, it's that Y/N chick, the actress girl.", hissed McKay, nudging him in the elbow. "She'll fuck us up in court, dude."

"Yes, I fucking realise that. Act cool, act cool."

YOU? YOU? Why the FUCK did it have to be YOU? Was karma real? Or was the universe just trying to fuck him up?

"I'm always cool, man."

Nate's eyes flicked from your car to your approaching figure. Why the fuck were you in East Highland?

You threw your hands up in frustration as he lowered his window, and, in a drunken haze, his eyes. You, thankfully, didn't notice. "What the FUCK was that, dude, huh?"

"Sorry, I just... lost control."

"Wait-Nate? UN-believable.", you scoffed, running your hands through your hair in frustration. HIM? HIM? Why the FUCK did you have to deal with HIM tonight? And then you saw his face. "Are you wasted?"

No, no, he was supposed to be good at hiding this shit. But he figured you'd be good at seeing through bullshit, seeing as bullshitting was your entire career.

"No, what? Two respectable citizens like us?", he asked, trying his best to look offended, but it's hard when you're staring into the eyes of someone who could fuck up your life with a signature.

"Bullshit. You're fucking wasted, aren't you?"

"What are you, a cop?" He restrained himself from adding a lewd comment about you putting him in handcuffs.

"I loved that movie you made recently- Starshine Valley.", declared McKay, matter-of-factly. "It was fucking fantastic."

Oh, yeah, Nate had watched it with him. The fact that you'd also directed it was news to him. Your 'country girl' outfit in that was, in Nate's head at least, equivalent to Leia in the fucking gold bikini.

Okay, whatever, not like Nate gave a shit. Right now, he was focused on McKay. McKay and his slur. His fucking slur. No, no, no!

You ran your hand over your face, palpably exhausted. "Okay, here's what we're going to do.", you began, trying your best to not show how much you wanted to tip their car over the bridge right now. "We're going to call the police-"

"No, we're not! Please, I'll make it up to you."

"You'll make it up to me? You almost drove my $500K car off a cliff!"

Jesus Christ. "Please, please, not the cops, we just... I've got a clean record so far, I don't wanna... please."

It came as a huge surprise that Nate's record was clean, but whatever.

"You should've thought of that before you-"

"Please, I have college to think of, my family-"

"FUCK! Okay. No cops."

"Thank you, thank you."

"Just don't fucking drive if you're drunk, ok? Where are you guys even going?"

"Back into town."

"East Highland?"

Nate almost laughed. What other fucking town was in that direction?

"Yeah, yeah, we are. You're going there?"

Please let this be a Disney movie. Please let her come back and join high school after a life of spoilt stardom. Please let me get to 'accidentally' throw a football at her pretty little head during practice. Please.

"Yeah, visiting my folks before I go out to Scotland to shoot.", you mumbled, running your hands through your hair again. For some reason, this drove him absolutely crazy. In a good or bad way, he didn't know. "Need a ride?"

Oh, yeah. In that car? Fuck yeah.

"What about our car?", asked McKay, stupidly. When asked whether you need a ride in a $500K car, you accept. You don't think about your shitty ass car.

"I'll come back and get it for you guys, I guess."

"You would? You'd do that for us, Emily?"

Why the fuck did McKay make a reference to Starshine Valley? What a fucking nerd. Not to say Nate wasn't about to make the exact same one.

"Shut up and get out."

-------

"Thanks again for not getting us busted."

"Don't fucking drink and drive, guys, okay? Get in your houses. Your car'll be back here by morning."

"And where will you be?", asks Nate, tilting his head.

"Oh, no, no, this isn't a fucking rom-com. This wasn't a meet-cute."

"I'm just saying, if we wanna settle things about the damage to your car..."

"There's no way to settle things without the law getting involved, and, for the sake of your criminal record, I think you should just leave it at that.", you scoffed, rolling your eyes as you pull out of his driveway.

"Fuck, dude.", muttered McKay after they watch you leave. "Fuck."

"She's such a knockout."

"Total smokeshow.", nodded McKay, in agreement. "But you know she was lying, right?"

"What? About our car?"

"Nah, about where she was going. She isn't from here. This ain't her hometown. If it was, we'd have seen her growing up, yeah?"

Nate almost killed himself right there. How drunk do you have to be to miss that?

"You're saying she's not meeting her folks?"

"I'm saying she ain't even staying in East Highland."

"Then where the fuck is she going?"

McKay groaned, as if Nate was the slowest fucking guy in the world. "You know that super-elite superstar club a few towns away?"

The one he'd tried getting into when he was shitfaced a couple months ago.

"The Golden? You think she's going there?"

"You saw what she was wearing? Who the fuck meets their parents wearing that ? Who's that stupid?"

Evidently, Nate, because he'd actually believed you.

And now, he felt the urge to get even more shitfaced and stupid.

He wanted to follow you back into The Golden.

The question was , would he?

[t.b.c]

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