#write in my ask box if you want more or one from a certain character!

[doodlinge]

ace attorney characters’ hobbies - headcanons!

some of these are canon or semi canon, and some of these are completely headcanons

nick - keeps a bunch of cacti and enjoys caring for them, and keeps up with a bunch of comics. actually enjoys video game soundtracks a lot, and listens to video game music in his freetime. and, of course, plays the piano

maya - collects crystals and watches a lot of ongoing plot cartoons (such as toh, amphibia and steel samurai, because ofc lmao). also loves baking for her friends and shopping with them, and likes to read fanfiction

edgeworth - also loves watching steel samurai, and collects figurines of characters that he keeps in a box in his closet somewhere. he definitely loves to read books, a lot, and loves nuanced ones that make him think

franziska - does ballet and enjoys fashion quite a bit. she loves trying on fancy dresses, suits and everything in between and listens to a lot of classical music, although occassionally, she listens to lofi.

mia - LOVES painting her and her friends’ nails (and is actually really good at it)! she actually loves documentaries and murder mystery movies, and enjoys looking at art galleries to interpret what the works mean

godot (or diego) - collecting mugs (some of them have really stupid quotes on them, but he thinks the quotes are hilarious/actually really cool). he likes doing puzzles when he’s not testing coffee recipes or playing the guitar

apollo - he likes to cook a lot, and is really good at it. he knows tons of recipes and watches a lot of cooking shows to learn more, even if he says that it’s a “small, irrelevant hobby of his”. he also likes to work out, and gets a lot of gender euphoria from doing so!

klavier - playing the guitar, piano, and even singing are definitely huge hobbies of his. he also enjoys songwriting and fashion a lot, always interested in the latest trends and such. he loves jewlery and has a not so secret collection of earrings, rings and bracelets

trucy - of course, magic, but loves collecting little trinkets, rocks and cute small things in her free time! she watches a lot of magic shows and musicals online, and loves upbeat songs to dance to in her room! and, no one knows this but aunt maya, but she actually likes to collect keychains and merch of her favorite shows from when she was super young

[cheapshrimpysheep]

True Feelings Chocolate - Freshmen

SUMMARY: It is normal on Valentine's Day for friends or schoolmates to exchange chocolates with each other. However, the quality of the chocolate reveals how the person really sees you. And homemade chocolate is the greatest message of love that someone can receive on this day.

CHARACTERS: Freshmen (Ace Trappola / Deuce Spade / Jack Howl / Epel Felmier / Sebek Zigvolt) x Yuu (Reader)

TAGS: Fluff; GN Reader; Kiss

WORD COUNT: An average of 1.000 words per character.

COMMENTS: The number of words varies depending on how much the character is the type to hide his true feelings.

I also would like to be able to write Epel's accent/dialect, but as English is not my first language this becomes a bit difficult sometimes. When I really want to write something like that I ask Gemini for help.

I hope you enjoy and had Happy Valentine's Day 💝

True Feelings Chocolate - OB Students (Riddle Rosehearts / Leona Kingscholar / Azul Ashengrotto / Jamil Viper / Vil Schoenheit / Idia Shroud / Malleus Draconia) x Yuu (Reader)

REAL WORLD CONTEXT: You may already know this, but Valentine's Day in Japan is different than in Western countries. In Asia (from what I know and have researched) this day is not exclusively related to romantic love but also to friendship or simple connections between schoolmates or work colleagues.

Just like in the West, it is marked by the gifting of chocolate, but the quality of the chocolate differs: If it's a boss or colleague you're not friends with, they're usually cheaper, more common chocolates. The quality and even price of the chocolate increases according to the relationship with the person to whom it is offered. And a chocolate made by the person themselves is the most valuable of all and is usually, from what I understand, almost like a confession of love.

On Valentine's Day, it is women who offer chocolates to men, but in this case, to keep Yuu gender-neutral and make it so that they can also offer chocolates to them, I just kept the chocolates’s logic and excluded the gender thing.

Another thing is that since it is normal to give chocolates to friends as well, it becomes more discreet to give more special chocolates to a certain person and it doesn't draw attention to simply give chocolate to someone.

NOTE: Thaumarks would be the equivalent of US dollars.

Since cherry pie is Ace's favorite food, you decide to make chocolate covered cherries, and you bought a red heart shaped box from Sam's Mystery Shop to put them in.

Meanwile, on one of the nights before Valentine's Day, Ace was alone in Heartslabyul’s kitchen with as few lights on as possible (which includes his phone’s light) and trying to cook without making noise when someone calmly enters and scares him with their presence.

“I think you know how lucky you are that I'm the one who found you and not Riddle.” Trey says with a weird smile.

“T-T-T-Trey-senpai...” Ace smiles awkwardly, that smile he hopes will get him out of trouble. “P-please, I... I-I'm just trying to follow the Valentine's Day rules, y-you know.”

“Following the rules?” Trey raises an eyebrow, looks at the mess on the kitchen table, and then looks back at Ace with a smirk. “Oh, so you’re making the chocolates? I wonder who they are for.”

“Hey, I'm not that obvious!... Am I?” He worries.

“But why didn't you do this during the day? I mean, I know you're trying to keep Deuce and the other students from seeing you, but I’m sure they have schedules that don't always overlap with yours.”

“Yeah, but I also had the problem of buying the ingredients without being seen. And I almost failed a bunch of times.” Ace sighs.

Trey laughs. “Well, you don't have much time until Valentine's Day... Hmm... Would you like my help? Maybe this way you'll finish faster and we can both go to bed.”

Ace is immediately overjoyed and relieved, but then asks him not to tell anyone. Trey promises not to tell anyone if no one catches them in the kitchen at that hour. A big part of the reason he helps Ace is so he doesn't have to deal with that problem the next day.

On Valentine's Day, you were preparing the boxes of chocolate to deliver to the Heartslabyul boys when you heard someone knocking on your door. You open it and see Ace catching his breath and then straightening up to pretend he wasn't tired at all.

“Heeey! Good morning, (Y/N)!” Ace greets you with that cute smile. You ask if he's okay when you see him panting as he speaks. “Y-yeah. It was just a long ru- walk. So... I was passing by and took the opportunity to come and say hi...” He smirks “And take whatever you might have to give me today.”

“You came all this way so early just to try to be the first one to get the chocolates?" you ask.

“He he, another good way to brag to Deuce.” He smiles smugly before returning to that cute smile. “So where are my sweets~?”

You turn around to get the bag of chocolates and take his box to hand it to him. He seems happier not to see any brand on the box, but even so he messes with you.

“Hmm? What's this? Don't tell me you made my chocolates?” He becomes even happier when he sees your reaction. “Well, let's see how they came out!”

He opens the box and finds several small chocolate balls like regular bonbons. He comments that he is a little disappointed, he thought you could do something more interesting. He takes one to taste, bites into it and widens his eyes.

“They are... cherries? Chocolate covered cherries?”

You ask what he was saying about them not being interesting and he laughs as he happily admits he was wrong.

“But they still look kind of boring.” he jokes. “I...” he gets a little flustered “I have something for you too.”

He had the backpack he used for his books with him, he put your box inside and took out another one, another red heart shaped box. He felt a little embarrassed as he looked at the box, that color was was so much flashier than yours.

“Yeah, it is pretty cliché too, but hey, it's also my suit.”

He holds the box with one hand and takes the other to the tip of the heart where there was a protrusion that served as a handle. He pulls it, opening the box like a drawer. The box is empty except for a folded piece of paper. You pick it up, unfold it, and read the message: ‘Sorry, I already ate them all. Should have been quicker!’ and a drawing of a smiley face with its tongue sticking out. Ace laughs at your reaction.

“I'm kidding, I'm kidding.” he defends himself when you playfully hit him on the arm. He closes that drawer and when he opens it again it is full of little chubby hearts made of your favorite chocolate. You reach out to pick one up but stop and look at him suspiciously. “Fine, fine. No more tricks with these chocolates, I promise.” he smiles.

You take out one of the chocolate hearts and bite into it to discover that it has your favorite filling. They were very good... too good. You sigh, feigning (or not) disappointment, and comment that for a moment you thought those were chocolates made by him.

“What?! What do you mean?! Of course I was the one who made them!”

You say they're too good for someone who you know doesn't like to cook or has a knack for it. They're more like sweets that... Trey would make.

“Ah... ugh... Okay, fine, I asked Trey-senpai for help. And... maybe kind of... tried to make him do most of the work... B-but that's because... um... *sigh* You said it yourself, I don't like cooking and I don't have a knack for it. I wanted to make sure your chocolates turned out as good as possible. And what's better than a sweet made by a professional like my Vice-Housewarden?” he smiles hoping that would save him from a scolding.

You may not scold him, but if he sees you upset or sad about it, he will feel really bad for having done that to you.

“Hey, I really tried to make them, I swear. The crooked ones are mine, haha. What happened was that Trey-senpai caught me making them in the kitchen at night and offered to help me. I really wanted to give you something that would show how much I love you, but...” He falls silent and blushes when he realizes what he just said. His instinct is to kinda change the subject. “Y-You know, I could have lost my head if it had been the Housewarden who caught me there and not him! I put my neck on the line for you. That should, at least, be a mitigating factor in this case.”

If you give him a kiss on the cheek to show that you forgive him, he will be stunned for a second, but then he will smile seductively, grab you by the waist and give you a real kiss.

Knowing that Deuce’s favorite food is anything with eggs, you look for recipes with eggs and chocolate. The first results are for chocolate eggs until you come across a recipe for Egg Yolk Chocolate Chip Cookies. Maybe you could even shape them into hearts, or better yet, into the shape of the suit of swords.

Meanwhile, Deuce isn't shy about asking Trey for help making your chocolates... okay, maybe a little bit, because it's basically telling him that he has a crush on you, although Trey kind of already knew. The only thing he asks is that they manage to make the chocolates without Ace knowing, so as not to make fun of him. Luckily for him, Cater is also willing to help that cute little freshman of his distracting Ace.

On Valentine's Day, you were putting the boxes of chocolates in a bag to give to the Heartslabyul boys, including the blue heart-shaped box you bought to put Deuce's cookies in, when someone knocks on your door.

“H-hey. G-good morning (Y/N).” Deuce greeted you with a hint of nervousness and shyness when you open the door. “I hope I'm not bothering you, hum, I mean, so soon.”

You reassure him that he never bothers you and that makes him blush a little.

“I'm glad... hum... Since today is Valentine's Day I... I wanted to... give you this.” He takes his hand from behind his back and offers you a quite cute heart-shaped box.

He feels more at ease when he sees that you liked the surprise and happier when you accepted it willingly. You open the box and see several hearts of your favorite chocolate. Many look good, but others are a little crooked. This makes you chuckle.

“Ha ha. Yeah, I know, I'm not very good at shaping them.” he says slightly embarrassed. “P-please try them, tell me what you think. I asked for Trey-senpai's help to make sure I did them the best I could.”

You pick one up and take a bite. It was pretty good, not as good as Trey could make them, but you could tell he had a hand in helping him. Besides that, they had clearly been made by Deuce.

“So, you like it?” He asks with a shy smile even though he can see the way you're smiling. You confirm and his smile widens. “I'm glad!”

You take the opportunity to turn around, pick up the blue heart-shaped box you had puted in the bag and offer it to him. Deuce widens his eyes in surprise.

“Oh? You...? It’s for me?”

Regardless of whether you cutely or sarcastically say yes, he will laugh embarrassedly and flattered, and blush a little if you call him ‘silly’. He picks up the box with a cute smile and is surprised again when he sees cookies shaped like the suit of spades and hearts instead of regular chocolates.

You tell him they are egg yolk chocolate chip cookies and that you made them because you wanted to do something that combines chocolate and his favorite food: eggs. He beams with happiness just hearing you say you made them, and even more so that you made them so thoughtfully.

“They look delicious, I'm sure they taste as good as they look.” he says excitedly to try one, and as soon as he does it you see one of the most sincere and adorable smiles you've ever seen on him.

“THEY'RE GREAT!” he shouts too excitedly and then gets a little embarrassed. “Oh, sorry, I didn't mean to say it so loud. It's just... you made these for me. Hmm... is that because... are you following the rules of this day?” he blushes. “You know, about, if the chocolates are handmade it must mean that...”

He's too flustered to finish his sentences, so he'll need you to be the one to take the next step and kiss him on the cheek. If you do, he will look at you in amazement for a second, before smiling broadly, hugging you and giving you a kiss on the cheek as well, but extremely passionately.

You know that Jack’s favorite food is pear compote, so you look for something that combines this and chocolate. The closest thing you can find is chocolate pear cake. Maybe if you cut it into smaller cubes it will be more like classic chocolates than giving him a whole cake. You also bought a yellow box in Sam's Mystery Shop to put them in.

Meanwhile, Jack was making your chocolates in Savanaclaw’s kitchen and would growl menacingly at anyone who messed with him about it, or even tried to. With the sole exception of Ruggie who offered to eat the chocolates that turned out so badly that Jack wouldn't want to offer them to you.

On Valentine's Day, you were preparing the boxes of chocolates to deliver to the Savanaclaw boys, when you heard someone knocking on your door.

“Hey, (Y/N). Hum, good morning.” Jack greets you slightly tense, despite trying to hide it. “Happy Valentine's Day. I... uh...” His impassive expression began to fade as his ears lowered, giving way to a more shy one. “I came here because I wanted to give you this.” He takes his hand from behind his back and hands you a red heart-shaped box with a pink bow. “Sorry if it's too cliché, but, uh, I thought you would like it anyway.” he rubs the back of his neck.

He starts to wag his tail a little when he sees that you enjoyed receiving that gift from him. You open it and find hearts of your favorite chocolate. However, they all have slightly different sizes and shapes, maybe only one or two could have an almost perfect, cymetrical shape of a heart, now all the others... You couldn't contain a little laugh.

“I know, I know.” he says embarrassedly, running a hand over the back of his neck again. “I'm terrible at delicate work. And these chocolates are too small for my hands.”

You pick one up and take a bite out of it. You say it tastes really good and his tail wags a little more as he smiles proudly. You take the opportunity to take his yellow box out of the bag and hand it to him. His tail wags again when he sees the box.

“I shouldn't be surprised that you'd want to give me something today too, should I?” He chuckles. “Thanks.” He picks up the box with a big smile and opens it. “Hmm? They look like little slices of cake.”

You tell him that you wanted to make something with pear compote since it is his favorite, but the most you could find were recipes for chocolate pear cake. So you thought that if you cut them a little smaller it would be the closest thing to regular chocolates.

“You're saying...” His tail begins to lose its shyness and takes up more space when wagging. “That you were the one who made them? And you tried so hard to make something I would like?” His big smile returns. “They look great. Let's see how good a cook you are!”

He takes one of the small slices but doesn't bite into it, as they are small enough for him to put them whole in his mouth, completely confident that it will taste good. And by the smile, the crazy wagging tail and the erect ears, this seems to be the case.

“They taste great too!” He was clearly overjoyed with your ‘chocolates’, but then the tail slowed down, the ears lowered slightly and his shyness returned. “Hey, I... I just wanted to make sure...” He looked away from you and his free hands went back to rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s said that if the chocolates are handmade it must mean...”

He seems to be struggling to continue that sentence and, knowing the Tsundere that he is, you realize that you need to be the one to help him.

“That the person has feelings for the other?” you finish for him. “Or even a crush?”

He finally starts to blush for real, but when he sees your reassuring smile he realizes and is sure that the feeling is mutual. This makes him loosen up, letting his tail wag like it wanted to wag all along, and he... laughs heartily, like you've never seen before. But you were surprised once again when he practically attacked you with a hug.

You have to be careful not to drop the chocolates as he covers your face with kisses, just as he has to be careful not to drop his.

You knew macarons were one of Epel’s favorite foods. So chocolate macarons seemed like a good Valentine's Day chocolate option. However, they are difficult to make and require care and skill, which means you have put a lot of work into making them.

You were going to put them in a lavender box that you bought at Sam's Mystery Shop. But you didn't buy a normal, cute box. Sam ‘just happened’ to have a lavender box in stock with a lineart of two dragons forming a heart, but in a way that reminds you of a cool tattoo rather than a cute drawing.

Meanwhile, in Pomefiore's kitchen, Epel was making his chocolates feeling very tense. Because he wanted to make your chocolates as perfect as possible to prove himself worthy of praise and of you? It could have been, if he hadn't had something, or rather someones, who made him even more tense than that thought.

Epel could feel Rook's watchful gaze, even if he was watching Epel through the window from a tree branch. But that wasn't necessary because he made a deal with Epel: If he let Rook watch him cook without worrying about him interrupting or interfering, Rook would keep any and all other Pomefiore students out of the kitchen until Epel was finished. So he silently watched Epel from the corner... which wasn't exactly a comfortable feeling.

But another person from whom he couldn't hide what he wanted to do in the kitchen was the Housewarden of Pomefiore himself.

“If a Pomefiore student is going to give Valentine's Day chocolates to a crush...” Vil said and Epel tried to deny that last word without much conviction, which made Vil chuckle in amusement. “Fine, to someone they really like, then they will have to be the most beautiful sweets that said student is humanly capable of making. And that's why I'll be evaluating them once they're finished. You don't want to give (Y/N) anything less than your best, do you?”

He reluctantly agreed. This plus Rook's observation only put more pressure on him. However, this is the kind of pressure that motivates Epel even more, which ends up being a good thing.

On Valentine's Day, you're putting the boxes of chocolates in the bag to deliver to the Pomefiore boys, when you hear someone knocking on your door.

“Good morning, (Y/N)!” Epel greets you with that sweet, enthusiastic smile, but then he gets a little shy. “Happy Valentine's Day. I just, uh, came here because I wanted to give you this.”

He takes his hands from behind his back and hands you a beautiful heart-shaped box with a classic design. He is very happy that you liked his gift so much. You pick up the box and open it to find beautiful, plump hearts made from what looks like your favorite chocolate and beautiful, carefully crafted lineart. You comment that it must have been a lot of work to do.

“You have no idea...” he says through gritted teeth and with a smile that tries to hide his frustration. And you ask if he wants to talk about it. “I... How about you try them first?” he diverts the subject momentarily with an awkward smile.

You pick up one of the chocolates and bite into it to discover that it has your favorite filling. And indeed, they taste as good as they look. He turns his back to you and mutters, in an irritated triumph, a few phrases in his dialect. You only catch something about him being right and ‘he’ not knowing what ‘he’ was talking about. And something about diet, maybe. You ask if everything was okay and what he was saying. He turns back to you.

“I was talking about my Housewarden!” He says bluntly. “Vil was like: ‘are you going to make them such high-calorie chocolates?’” he imitates him in an affected voice that would certainly get him into trouble if Vil heard it. “And like ‘Don't you think you made many considering their poor nutrition?’. I was lucky that Rook defended me on many points, saying things like: 'This shows how sweet Monsieur Pommette’s love is’.” He made another eccentric voice to imitate Rook. “And cheesy things like that... And... I may or may not have talked back to Vil because of his criticisms.”

You ask what he did or said.

“At first the criticism was constructive, like whether the chocolates were pretty or not. But then he started criticizing the chocolates because of the calories. You know, stupid ideas because of his diets or something. It even got to the point where he almost told me to do something that I knew you wouldn't like and that's when I told him: ‘THESE CHOCOLATES ARE NOT FOR YOU! AND YOU CAN'T FORCE YOUR TASTES ON OTHERS!’”

He reenacted the way he said that to Vil and you can only imagine how he reacted when he saw Epel yelling at him with that furious face. Then he calmed down again and sighed.

“Right after that he wanted me to apologize. I apologized for the way I spoke, but not for what I said. And do you know what he said to me? ‘And that is exactly the apology you should make to me.’” He imitated Vil again to the point of making that gesture with his index finger next to his chin and put a smug face on. “ ‘What you said is more than correct, now the way you said it needs to be worked on.’ HE WAS PURPOSELY IRRITATING ME TO TEST ME! CAN YOU BELIEVE THIS?! And Rook even helped by praising the passionate way I expressed myself and yada, yada, yada.”

You can no longer contain your laughter when you imagine that scene. And Epel laughs with you. Oh, you almost forgot! You turn around and go to the bag to get Epel’s box to give to him.

“WOW! IT'S SO COOL!” Epel smiled excitedly when he sees the drawing of dragons on the box.

Then he looked at you and his smile became sweeter, having been reminded that you actually know the real him. He wasted no time in opening the box and he genuinely smiles so cutely when he sees the chocolate macarons. But then you see him pick up one of the macarons and analyze it. You ask if there's something wrong.

“Did you make them?” he asks with a really puzzled look, but soon his eyes widen and the big smile returns as you confirm. “So that's why they are a little crooked and with some cracks. Hahaha.”

You pout at him and notices his cheeks starting to turn pink.

“Hey, I'm not making fun of you." he says, still with a slightly mocking smile. "Macarons are hard to make. And honestly, you did such a good job that I almost thought they were bought." Then he smirked. “But they wouldn't sell macarons in this state.” He laughs at your annoyed reaction. “They look delicious, tho. Let's dig in!”

He tastes the macaron in his hand and once again his eyes widen, accompanied by a huge smile.

“Mmm, that's darn good!” he says in his accent. “But, tell me just one more thing.” he says with a smug smile. “Do you know what it means to give someone chocolates made by yourself today?” You confirm. “That's what I was hoping for!”

And in a surprising movement of grabbing you by the waist with his free hand, he pulls you and kisses your cheek with confidence.

Knowing that Sebek’s favorite food is Salmon carpaccio doesn't help you know exactly what you should do, but knowing that his least favorite food is Black coffee helps you conclude that dark chocolate is not a good option. But with that maybe you can think more about the shape of the chocolates... Does Sam have any dragon molds for sale?

Meanwhile, no Diasomnia’s student approaches the kitchen so that their eardrums wouldn't be ruptured by Sebek's voice. Just the energy of ‘Don't you dare bother me, humans!’ was enough for them to reach the door and immediately turn around. With only 3 exceptions. But luckily for him one of those exceptions wasn't even around at the time. Luckily because he was thinking about making chocolates for Malleus too.

Silver doesn't really get involved in other people's business. At most, he gives a little smile on the corner of his mouth, thinking it's amusing, and leaves him alone.

Lilia, on the other hand, really, really, REALLY wanted to mess with him a little. He couldn't contain his desire to stay in the kitchen and watch him cook, which on the one hand put more pressure on Sebek, but also made him more determined to make everything perfect. Lilia even offered to help him.

“I-It is very generous of you to offer me your precious aid, Lilia-sama.” he said, and he always feels guilty and dishonored for avoiding Lilia's cooking. “But, as honorable as it would be, I will have to decline the offer. For I intend to strive to make the chocolates with the greatest perfection through my solo effort and improving skills.”

He may have saved himself from Lilia 'helping' him make your chocolates, but he couldn't save himself from Lilia's comments insinuating that he (as the youngsters say) ships the two of you. Part of Lilia also wanted to trick him a little bit to make him court you in a weird and funny way, but he held himself back. He wasn't one to abuse Sebek's trust to the point of actually ruining things between you.

On Valentine's Day, you were putting the boxes of chocolates in the bag to deliver to the Diasomnia boys when you heard someone knocking on your door.

“HUMAN!” Sebek shouts with a slight blush of embarrassment on his face and as if he were doing it almost out of obligation. “I'm here to fulfill the chocolate delivery ritual.” He hands you the black heart-shaped box with green lineart that he didn't even bother to hide behind his back. “P-please accept my offering.” he stuttered for an almost imperceptible second.

You pick up the box with a little smile, finding it all funny. You open the box and find hearts made with your favorite chocolate. You pick one up and bite into it, discovering that it also has your favorite filling inside.

“Well, I may conclude that you are perfectly satisfied with my cooking.” He says with a smug smile that tries to hide the real delight he feels at seeing you smile like that. But then he became serious again. “With this, my visit to you comes to its conclusion. Have a good day.”

He immediately turns to start walking to the gate, but you stop him. He turns around alarmed by the way you asked him to wait.

“WHAT IS IT?! Is there something missing?! I knew I should have gotten flowers too!”

And so his composed mask falls, at least for that moment. He really seems worried that he did something wrong and is sorry for whatever mistake he made. However, you can't help but laugh at that drastic change in behavior.

“WHA- NOW YOU ARE MOCKING ME?!” He makes that angry face that is so common of him that it doesn't even worry you anymore. “For what motive did you ask me to detain myself?!”

You turn to grab his box from the bag and hand it to him. It's a green heart-shaped box with a black bow. He almost jumps in surprise.

“You...” he says in a lower voice (which to anyone would be just a regular volume) “You got me chocolates too?”

He picks up your box with a delicacy you've never seen before and a little glint of wonder in his eyes. He opens the box to find chocolates, some milk, others white, shaped like little dragon heads. And with that he made that emotional face that he practically only directed at Malleus or Lilia.

“HOW MAJESTIC! Such a sublime creature recreated in its glory! You... human... are so... CRUEL!”

You ask why he is saying that, worried and above all confused.

“How do you expect me to ruin a work of art such as this? And worst of all through INGESTION?! I CAN NOT! This must be preserved!”

You try to convince him to eat them because if he doesn't they'll spoil. And you even say that you didn't know he would see things that way, you just thought he would like those molds because of, well, Malleus. And you comment that maybe you should have chosen something else because you really want him to taste what you did for him.

“They... they were made by you?” His face contorts into even more emotional pain and indecision.

You say you have the molds and can make more if he wants. This makes his eyes widen, almost filling with tears, and shine with joy and relief.

“THAT WOULD BE SIMPLY WONDERFUL! ... GH!... hu-hum. I mean, I would be very grateful if you did.” he smiles with a slight blush. “Now,” he smirks. “I should uncover the result of your labor.”

He takes one of the chocolates and bites into it. And you can see from his emotional expression that he's trying hard not to start showering you with praise like he does with Malleus.

“I must confess, for a human devoid of any magic or enviable abilities, your cooking is more than satisfactory.”

You look at him with that face of someone asking if that really is the best thing he can say to you. He sighs and blushes a little again.

“Very well. You desire to hear my most genuine opinion, correct?” he smiles, in a rather sweet way. “I truly enjoyed it. I didn't want to inflate your ego, but since you insist, they are some of the best homemade chocolates I've ever had. It is an honor to be worthy of tasting something like this and with the exclusivity of having it made especially for me. Thank you very much, (Y/N).”

You're surprised for a moment that he said your name and not ‘human’. And in the meantime, his posture changes, at first he seems uncertain about something but then he becomes surprisingly confident to the point of smiling smugly at you.

“Well, I assume you are well aware of the rules of  chocolate giving on Valentine's Day. And what implies delivering chocolates made by the offeror to the offeree.”

Seeing your expression of confirmation, he takes your hand, leans in and kisses the back of it. When he looks at you again, in the eyes, you see a shine and affection that you never thought you would see in him.

If you would like to read more from me, you can find it in my pinned post: INDEX

[katsu2ji]

fool for you — m. fushiguro

a/n: i love writing megumi as a cheesy lovesick idiot fool because he IS a cheesy lovesick idiot fool. an oblivious one, at that.

megumi didn't even intend to make a joke. he was being completely serious, talking in that deadpan, monotone voice that everyone around him was all too familiar with. he was talking about gojo, of course—he'd done something stupid, yet again.

despite his intentions (or rather, lack thereof), you thought what he said was funny. he was surprised when he heard you laugh; it was a sound that made him turn his head to the source of the noise, his face a mixture of flustered and confused.

"what? what did i do?" he asked, his eyes wide. he looked over your facial features, committing them all to memory without him even consciously thinking about it. christ, you looked—

"no, it's nothing," you answered, smiling at the boy. "it's just the way you said that just now was funny. sorry, i hope you didn't think i was laughing at you."

he was silent for a few seconds before realizing you had spoken; he blinked, coming back to himself.

god, what was going on with him? he was fine two seconds ago, but now he couldn't even look you in the eye. his stomach was doing some odd thing; he felt like he was simultaneously going to throw up and some, strange, other feeling that he wasn't sure how to describe.

"oh—no, i didn't think you were laughing at me. i just..." he paused, looking for his train of thought, "i didn't think what i said was very funny but, um—"

he mentally cursed himself, feeling like an idiot. why the hell couldn't he speak? why couldn't he look at you?

this had been happening a lot recently—the stuttering over his words, being unable to make eye contact with you at certain moments—and with the way it's making him act, he wasn't sure if this an avenue he wanted to keep going down.

he took a breath, feeling his cheeks get hot. he ignored it as he finished his sentence, "i'm glad i was able to make you laugh, i guess?"

jesus, he probably looked like an moron.

later, as he closed his eyes for bed, he couldn't stop thinking about that exchange. never in his life had he felt like he'd made such a complete and utter fool of himself, but he couldn't figure out why it bothered him so much. and that bothered him even more.

he replayed your laugh in his head over and over, the sound turning over in his mind like a lullaby in a music box. he wasn't sure why the thought of you laughing, the look on your face as you did so, struck him as much as it did.

and that wasn't the first time that had happened when it came to you, either, he reminded himself; there had been other moments when you'd done something that stirred up mysterious feelings inside him, like that one time you grabbed his hand to pull him along somewhere, or when you had slumped over on the train and fallen asleep on his shoulder. his mind was spinning now, keeping him from sleep.

what was it about you? everytime you'd done something or said something that he had found particularly...endearing...he felt the same feelings that he felt today: the warming of his cheeks, his stomach feeling like it was doing somersaults, his words tripping over his tongue. what was happening? why was he acting so unlike himself? why was he acting so—

his eyes shot open as he pieced everything together.

"oh god," he whispered to himself in the dark, staring up at the ceiling wide eyed and awake. as it finally settled into him why he'd been acting like so stupid around you lately, so completely out of character, he threw his hand up over his face and took a deep, loud breath.

oh god, he thought, repeating himself. i'm fucked.

katsu2ji © 2025. please don't copy, modify, or do anything of the sort with my work! i work very hard and you simply do not have my permission.

[fefern]

✧˖° first dates with them. | lingyang, m!rover, jiyan headcanons.

⋆ ˚☁️ ⁀➴ synopsis: going on a first date is always nerve wracking, yet can also be exciting! what's it like for these boys to take you out on your first date together?

⋆ ˚☁️ ⁀➴ characters involved (separate): lingyang, male rover, jiyan, and a gender neutral reader.

⋆ ˚☁️ ⁀➴ warnings: none!

⋆ ˚☁️ ⁀➴ notes: hello! coming to you live with my first post for wuwa! just some cute little headcanons with the boys on first dates with you because i love planning dates out ;;!! requests are open if you want to talk or have me write something!! ( ˘͈ ᵕ ˘͈♡)

Lingyang

Lingyang has never been more excited or nervous to hang out with someone, even more so since this was his first date with you. 

As someone who always seemed to fear being different from the humans around him, he felt extra self-conscious when he looked in the mirror and adjusted his outfit. Did he look alright? Were you going to enjoy this as much as he thought he would? Will everything go well? What if you decided you changed your mind and didn’t want to date someone of his species?

His first date gift for you would be a small lion plushie. Cute and fluffy with vibrant colors, he’d hold it out in front of him and shut his eyes tight, anxiety flowing through him. “These are for you! That way, when you miss me, you can hug this! If you want to, no pressure!” 

He’d be ecstatic when you took it into your hands and held it throughout your date together, happily looking between you and the plush and feeling his cheeks turn a rosy pink that you two were going out together. 

He’d probably take you to the best food spots all around Jinzhou, ranting about which dishes to try or who had his favorite foods. He’d want to get to know you more, curious and nervous as he’s asking you about your likes, dislikes, what your daily life is like in Jinzhou. Lingyang would walk and eat with you along the way, practically enamored by anything you did or said. 

His tail would swish fast back and forth whenever you were talking. Even if it’s something you found mundane, he couldn’t help but be happy just listening to you speak. His ears will also be very reactive around you, usually up but always reacting accordingly to whenever you’d tell a story or joke with him. 

He’ll let you pet him if you want to, he trusts you after all. His cheeks flush a soft pink and he lets out a small purr when you do so, finding himself growing a bit shyer at the sweet touch. He also feels a tad embarrassed by it, so you’ll have to pry his hands away as he childishly hides the way he’s turning red from you. 

He seems a little bit sad when you two do have to part, but when you ask him when the next one would be, a hopeful look emerges in his eyes as he begins to excitedly make plans to see you again and take you on another date. 

Other Points:  - Will jump in place when super excited to tell you something while on the date.  - Would point to some random cute things on your walk and go, “That reminds me of you!” - Happy to talk about lion dancing with you, and if you show more interest in it, he’ll offer to give you your own personal show one day!

Rover (Male)

Considering he is a person that just woke up in a strange world with no memories of his past or who he is, he is a bit lost on the idea of what to do during a date with you. Were there rules he had to follow? Did people in Jinzhou have certain taboos or ways that they executed dates?

He’d most likely ask all around the city in order to find out what to do or where to take you. He wanted to make sure the experience was good after all, not something that the both of you would dread. 

When he meets up with you, his hair is a bit more put together than usual and he stands up tall, giving you a small smile as he gently takes your arm and links it with his. 

“Take me around the city. Show me how you see the world through your eyes.”

His first date gift would be a small box of candy. I could definitely see Rover as being a person who likes small sweet treats as a guilty pleasure, and he’d want to share them with you as a way of connecting you with something that you love. 

He’s calm throughout most of your stroll, browsing through stores or looking around in quiet curiosity as you show him little nooks and crannies of the city. He enjoyed hearing how you would describe stores or fixate on different areas of the city that he hadn’t thought to really pay attention to before. 

He makes a mental note of the places that you like so that for your next date, you two could come back to them. Rover is already a few steps ahead in terms of thinking where he wants to go with you or what he wants to do. 

When you’re done showing him the city, he’ll give you a kind, endearing look and smile at you. He’ll take a moment to just admire you, shifting some of your hair out of your face and enjoy being in your presence before ultimately, it is time to part ways. He’ll wave you off, thanking you for everything and giving him a tour, before he smiles to himself like a fool and turns to head back to his quarters. 

Other Points: - Probably would be looking at you more than the city.  - Fast walker, so you’d have to keep up the pace. Apologies if he’s going too fast and happens to catch you struggling. - Will inquire about certain places just to listen to you talk. 

Jiyan

As the general of the Midnight Rangers that conducts himself in a poised, righteous manner, he’d be the most classy out of all the people to take you out on a date. 

Jiyan’s got a busy schedule as the head of such an important group in Jinzhou, but after bonding with you and asking you out he wanted to ensure that he carved out time in advance for just you and him to spend an afternoon together. 

He’d take you to a fancy restaurant in Jinzhou, the best money can buy. He’d be sure to pick you up from your place and walk with you to the restaurant. When you open the door, he’s standing in front of you with his hair slicked back and ponytail waving a bit in the wind, his clothes pristine and ironed out to look his absolute best in front of you. 

His present for you is a bouquet of flowers he made himself. He enlisted the help of his mom for this one, catching up with her about medical practices as he puts together the best pecok, irises, and poppies that he could find when he was out on his rounds into a pretty bouquet just for you. It’s wrapped up with brown paper and has a nice aqua bow on it, matching his hair.

When you get to the restaurant, he’ll look at the menu with you and ask you to order anything your heart desires. He already knows what he wants to eat, and will quietly look at you with a softened expression as you begin choosing what you want. He finds the way you handle yourself beautiful, even if it’s through simple things like ordering food. 

Jiyan will happily eat anything you don’t end up finishing. He doesn’t want to waste money, and he also cannot deny that the way you ask him to finish your plate was cute. He’ll work it off anyways with the amount of fighting and training he does, so he doesn’t mind. 

Will pay for the meal. No splitting or you paying, as much as you might plead and beg.

Will take you back to your place and entertain any questions you may have for him, whether it be about his past, missions he’s been on, or just about his duties as general of the Midnight Rangers. When he drops you off, he’d take the back of your hand and gently place a kiss on it before standing up straight and giving you a small smile, wishing you a goodnight. 

Other Points: - Will hold all your belongings so your hands are free and light. Does not matter how heavy or how much you have, he will refuse to let you “labor” like that, as he puts it.  - Admires your personality and the way you hold yourself when you speak. - Has a strong desire to protect you; always subconsciously keeping an eye out for any danger even though it’s daylight out.

[sl-vega]

SWEET N' SOUR ! - a scaramouche celebrity smau

-> PROLOGUE; all because I liked a boy

additional notes:

HI HI

i wanted to post this chapter yesterday but i'm SUPER sick right now so staring at a screen was basically a death sentence for me

so to make it up to you guys I wanted to make this chapter longer than I originally wanted it to be!

i was debating whether I wanted to release to prologue or the profiles first, but seeing as how scara's fg isn't relevant yet (and how y/n's entire gc was shown in the second teaser, I decided on uploading the prologue first!

and part of me also want you guys to guess some of the irl equivalents to some of the characters here!

aka half of them

only half of y/n friend group (including y/n mind you) are essentially au versions of another celebrity/semi famous person

so leave your guesses in my ask box/comments!

anyways LMAO other random notes

while this smau won't be an exact one to one of how the music industry works (ie me taking creative liberties with fontinalia being based off of broadway records even though it functions VERY differently from the source) I do like to include accurately depicted parts of it when I can!

when Beidou was talking about qixing showing an interest in y/n, the A&R team that she mentioned is a very real part of any record label!

A&R stands for artists and repertoire, and it's basically a fancy term for talent scouts who find new artists to sign to the label they work for!

anyways lmao this was a VERY long a/n, so thanks for reading all that if you did

as per usual, taglist is always open and please let me know if you want to have a cameo as a fan username (and thank you to all the people who let me use their's as fans in this chapter!)

also let me know if any of y'all are comfortable with being scara haters, venti can't keep doing the work for you

˚୨୧⋆｡ synopsis:  the bright lights of fame and fortune aren’t for everyone, and you’re starting to think you’re part of that majority. You just can’t seem to catch a break! Every movie you’re in goes straight to DVD, every album you drop just barely gets any streams. From child star to sub par popstar, it seems clear that the world has some kind of vendetta against you and you love to blame it on a certain rising musical sensation; Scaramouche. Thanks to your godforsaken luck you happened to go out with the wrong guy at the wrong time because he just so happened to be Scaramouche’s ex, next thing you know you wake up to truck loads of death threats, your record label dropping you, AND a whole album labelling you as the ‘other woman’! After what seemed like a never ending onslaught of straight bullying and harassment, you had long since retreated from the limelight, the only thing left from your music career being ever so occasional covers on YouTube that only your few close friends watched religiously. However, after writing a heartfelt original piece and uploading it from your humble bedroom, it goes viral! A single song has thrusted you head first into stardom once more, and face to face with the person you ruined it for you.

<- prev ll masterlist ll next ->

🍬 (open) taglist: @shrii-kk @freyao7 @analiee6 @thetwinkims @bellflower1257 @blvdmrcnry @bloukoup @yuan1819 @yourstrulymauki @fungaltoehehe @enrions @atlatcaheart @mywillt0live @myeomiz @adornavia @automaticpatroltragedy @scaraenthusiast1 @sesamemin @syunifu @blueberrybxba @fishii28 @a-sorrowful-tune @emvss @jiminscarmex @mwaiu @lloversss @d4y-dr3am3r @usagiarchive @idaissupercool @raytoebiter @lizzie-harper @anqelkoz @blue-moonies @lalalaloveallmydays @jinjjjia

[jedisupernova]

compress, repress (part ii) — kwon jiyong & choi seunghyun

summary you have jiyong convinced you're the love of his life—he’s got the stuttering heartbeat to prove it. whilst he’s riding the high of having the upper hand, its not long until you see what else is at play. seunghyun, however, doesn't like being told no—let alone have his morals challenged—so what happens when he looks into the mirror, and the reflection is you? better yet, what does he do when he likes it?

notes minors dni contains challengers au, fem reader, unabashedly plus size reader as i am myself but anyone can read, takes place in the mid 2000s (hence mentions of certain music, technology, media, etc.), everyone is a college senior, tennisplayer!jiyong and tennisplayer!seunghyun; reader is head of debate team, smut (oral f and m receiving, p in v, in the car, dirty talk, finishing early, a scene that took me one full day to write, either are subs, suffocating sexual tension) angst (all three are at times depicted as not the greatest of people, love triangle, inferiority complex, infidelity, keeping things from each other, arguments, yearning, deception, greed, seunghyun is a fckn asshole but is about to be humbled big time bc he's down BAD, jealousy, possessiveness, insecurity; this is just straight up messy), confessions, religious imagery, i don't know anything about tennis i tried my best to write about a game pls don't laugh at me, if you went to stanford and are reading this not you're not, and inevitable typos though some are purposeful.

author's note welcome to part ii of my challengers au!!!! this part is Tea . . . a brief disclaimer: these are only characters; in no way do i claim either would act this way in real life. please read part i or else you will be very confused! this is longer than part i, so i suggest you get comfy. please lmk what you think!! i always want to hear your thoughts! my ask box is always open 🩷 see you next friday for part iii 🎾

part i | part ii | part iii | part iv

you looked up at the sound of a backpack landing unceremoniously in the seat diagonal to you. you glanced at the hand holding the iced coffee set down next to yours, eyes tracing up the arm, unamused by who it belonged to. “oh. it's you.” you said, monotone, going right back to editing your midterm essay due in two hours—right before your next class—scrolling through the word document on your laptop. the draft introduction for your senior thesis, along with a half-finished outlined agenda for tonight’s debate team meeting were open in other tabs, too. thursdays are your busiest, after all. needless to say, you didn’t have time for whatever the fuck bullshit seunghyun needed to get off his chest, as elucidated by the smug grin on his face: “does your phone not work or what?” “it works perfectly fine, thank you.” you answered without looking up, pressing the chunky keys to fix a fragmented sentence in your conclusion paragraph. seunghyun sat down across from you, taking a swig of his coffee as if this was normal. you weren’t going to give him the satisfaction, so here you both were—co-existing. he ran his fingers through his messy hair, his lifted arm giving you an unsolicited whiff of post-workout body odor.

your expression soured slightly, waving your hand in front of your face. you leaned back at little, the brief squeak of your chair catching his attention. “listen, i know your ego’s bruised or whatever,” you said, pulling your laptop and coffee closer to you—but more importantly farther from him. “but that doesn’t mean you get to inflict biological warfare on me. that’s just unfair.” even jiyong doesn’t smell this bad post practice, you thought to yourself. seunghyun’s eyebrows furrowed, sniffing his shirt. he hid his brewing embarrassment behind another sip of his coffee, “i don’t smell that bad.” he muttered. “and who said my ego was bruised?” “speak for yourself.” you retorted. he began feeling exposed, turning to self-inflicted overcompensation: “the—the shower i usually use at the locker room was taken, and i was running late.” he explained, but to no avail, seeing you zeroed back in on your laptop. not to worry, though, he knew just what would get your attention: “don’t smell as bad as jiyong, though. right?” he smirked. you looked at him, expression unreadable. “on the contrary, actually. took you long enough, too.” you commented, sarcasm identifiable in your blunt tone. “i know you were pissing yourself to mention him first thing.”

seunghyun didn’t say anything. you ceased typing, gradual realization washing over you. you looked at him, crossing your arms over your chest, an amused smile stretching your lips. he didn’t like the feeling it stirred in his chest. “that’s why you called when you did.” you thought aloud, eyebrows raising. “you knew jiyong and i went out.” “of course i knew.” seunghyun tried to play it cool, shrugging his shoulders. he subconsciously mimicked your movements, crossing his arms over his chest. “we’re best friends. we tell each other everything.” “right, right.” you scoffed, taking a sip of your coffee. “that’s why you gave him my number at the hotel.” you recited his obvious lie with a dramatic nod, effectively annoying him. he licked his lips, awkwardly adjusting his posture in his seat. “you didn’t, like,” his gaze became finicky, glancing down at his lap. the fuck is my problem? why can’t i look at her? she’s just a person, his inner monologue rambled. he knew his question was juvenile, but it wasn’t enough to stop himself. “do anything, did you?” some part of him was doubtful about jiyong’s bravado. perhaps it was a reflection of insecurity rather than simply refusing to believe his best friend could land someone so you when jiyong’s so . . . him . . . but good luck to anyone whom tried to get seunghyun to tell the difference. or admit to it.

you didn’t help. “why?” you questioned, tearing the remainder of your toasted croissant in half, chewing on one piece. “afraid i’m damaged goods now?” seunghyun was appalled—genuinely offended. he was unsure whether it was more of how casually the accusation rolled off your tongue, or that you thought of him like that at all. either way, his face scrunched up akin to yours when his armpit took a breather. “what?” his eyebrows furrowed, shaking his head. “no. that’s not—that’s not at all what i meant. listen, i may be shitty, but i’m not downright fucking awful—” “—i’ll be the judge of that.” you cut him off, finishing your croissant, wiping your fingers with a napkin—all without sparing him a glance. “fine, whatever.” he scoffed, wanting to move the conversation elsewhere. but his pride stuck out like a sore thumb: “i’m not some villain of a guy. i don’t slut shame.” he continued against his better judgment, digging himself into a metaphorical hole. “i mean, i really don’t have a place to. if you knew half the things i’ve done—”

you shut him right up with the look on your face, seeing him adjust in his chair, hearing him clear his throat. “i don’t have time for this.” you told him bluntly, shaking your head dismissively. “i have deadlines to meet.” seunghyun didn’t appreciate your tone, “i do, too. you’re not special.” he said curtly. “we go to the same school.” he reminded you, frustrated when you didn’t look up from your laptop. seunghyun took a hefty gulp of his coffee, his gaze fluttering around his immediate surroundings—the campus shuttle driving by, ears perking up at the sound of the bell ringing atop the door, followed by the flurry of conversations throughout the bustling café as a whole. his eyes inevitably returned to you, seeing you biting your inner cheek, concentrated on your screen—you finally figured out how to better word your thesis statement in your introductory paragraph; its been bothering you for days—trailing past your chin, to your neck.

seunghyun knows what he’s looking at. he’s smart enough to not think its a shadow, though your hickey looked mostly healed. his foot tapped underneath the table, picking at his nails, his mind jumping to its own brash conclusions: probably gave it to her when he was—he kissed his teeth. he raked his fingernails against his eyebrow—anything to get that god awful image out of his head, damn near clawing at it to do so. you were unbothered and blissfully unaware of seunghyun’s inner turmoil, pressing save on your essay, moving on to tonight’s meeting agenda. “what’s this?” you looked up, seeing him gesturing to his neck. he got himself together enough to display his characteristic shit-eating grin. “a mosquito bite?” “oh,” you finished your coffee. “you’re still here.” that touched a nerve, much to your satisfaction: “yes i’m still fucking!—” his voice descended into a whisper before cutting himself off completely, suddenly remembering you two were very much in public.

seunghyun leaned in, “look,” his voice was much quieter, “is you going out with jiyong your way of getting back at me? for not calling?” you can’t remember the last time you were face-to-face with someone so deeply enveloped in their own world, wholeheartedly convinced everyone else simply existed to revolve around them. even your old team captain had his moments of humility, albeit fleetingly. seunghyun was just point blank unapologetic, and completely serious, with the way he waited patiently for your answer. “is that why you’re acting this—this way?” “go ahead.” you sat back in your seat, arms returning to your chest. “i know there’s another word you’d prefer to use.” you challenged. he dismissed you, shaking his head. “i’m not calling you a bitch.” “that rolled suspiciously smooth off your tongue.” you tutted, feigning surprise. “i thought you were a card-carrying feminist.” “if you say so.” his arms returned to his chest, too. “if you’re actually curious,” he tilted his head condescendingly, playing this game of semantics eye-to-eye. “i’d prefer to use the term ‘unhinged.’”

you let out a laugh, unabashedly mocking him, going as far as to clap a few times—undeterred by the couple of fellow students who turned around at the noise. you liked this sparring, as aggravating as he could be. “there it is. a classic.” your smile turned him into the smallest man in the world. it was similar to how he felt when jiyong switched his service motion: like looking into a mirror, except this was worse. it was as if he was staring at a carbon copy of himself: someone who knows who they are, and knows that self-assurance intimidates the fuck out of everyone else. your willingness to challenge him didn’t make seunghyun second-guess his motives. he’s sure enough in his murky understanding and grip on his masculinity to preserve his self-esteem in the midst of adverse conversation, or people who may skirt his moral compass. it was the realization there’s no such thing as having the upper hand with you—he has to learn to share that glory. it wasn’t a question of if you were up to the challenge of him—that was a no-brainer. if anything, he needed to figure out if he was up for you. its apparent in her fucking aura, seunghyun’s mind raced; terrified, yet enthralled you communicated so much through a mere look. or maybe he’s trying to come to terms with something, though his pride won’t let him.

“let’s settle this over lunch sometime.” there it was: his attempt at getting the reins back. “where do you live? roble?” he referred to one of the upperclassmen residential halls nearby. you didn’t hide your smirk, shaking your head with an amused chuckle. it’s like the jokes write themselves . . . “what exactly is there to settle, seunghyun?” you asked. though it was a rhetorical question, you answered it anyway: “might i remind you, you came up to me. i was just minding my own.” you put your hands up, cutting seunghyun off before he could interject. “he drove me around in his land rover,” you gestured out the window, but in your head, it was jiyong. “and you’re offering me spare meal credits before the semester ends?” it's true: thanksgiving break was around the corner, and winter break wasn’t too far off afterward with final exams in between. seunghyun opened his mouth again, but you weren’t having it: “you wanna know why i’m with jiyong? okay, i’ll tell you.” you nodded, “its because he keeps his fucking word, and doesn’t act like he’s in a perpetual dick-swinging contest.”

“but you two aren’t like, official, right?” “it's like you’ve never been told 'no’ before in your entire life.” you waved him off, turning your head to look out the window. “no, i have.” he corrected. “it's just interesting when the person telling you 'no’ is clearly lying.” “you’re starting to sound like the guy every girl is warned about before she goes to college—no, since goddamn sentience.” you corrected yourself, giving him a look. “my bad. let me clarify.” seunghyun licked his lips, unable to wipe the smile off his face, clearly having something up his sleeve. “are you not the girl who still put her number in my phone, even after i said i wouldn’t give it to jiyong?” you didn’t have anything to say to that. he took the win, albeit not so humbly. “right. i thought so.” he nodded, satisfied. “don’t act so innocent. lying doesn’t look good on you.” “what makes you think i care about what looks good on me? you’re no better.”

seunghyun felt he was inching closer to the crux of this, illustrated in your now stern expression and resolute tone: “really? enlighten me.” you caught his drift, leaning forward, speaking only for him to hear. “you looked like a lost puppy at that elevator,” his face dropped. “so desperate to find me, you didn’t have fucking shoes on. latched onto every look you could get until those doors closed. just to play in my face, thinking it's my first day on earth. only come up to me today, wanting to have your cake and eat it, too.” you shook your head, gaze unwavering—piercing. “i’m not your fucking mommy, seunghyun. i am not the one. you don’t get to swing your dick in my face when i don’t tell you where i’ve been, or where i’m going.”

well, fuck. seunghyun poked his tongue against his cheek, looking down at his lap, masking his embarrassment from your eviscerating humbling with a grin. “who said i want you to be my fucking mommy?” he asked, tone unaffected. “sounds like you’re trying to tell me something.” “you know what,” you tapped out. there was no point: “you can continue talking in circles by yourself. i’m done here, anyway.” you closed your laptop, tugging the zipper of your backpack open. “he doesn’t know what he’s doing.” seunghyun tried to talk with some fucking conviction, to offer some sort of warning, but the sight of you getting up—completely unbothered—fucked with him more than he was willing to admit. “i don’t know what it is with men and using cryptic ass language,” you said, shrugging your shoulders. you lifted your head, setting your backpack on the table. you looked down at him, “just say what you fucking mean.” “okay,” seunghyun looked up at you, body language preserving the last shred of dignity he had—stretching his legs, feet underneath where you sat moments ago. “did jiyong tell you about our match against pepperdine next week?”

it was inexplicit, but tauntingly clear: you weren’t entirely let in on jiyong’s life. it was your turn to jump to conclusions, albeit internally: he probably has a reason for not mentioning it, but why wouldn’t he? it's such a basic, no, fundamental aspect of his life. it should be a given. is he using it to play in my face, cherry-picking shit for me? and for what? to let me in whenever it's convenient?—“i thought so.” seunghyun’s voice cut your internal conflict off. “and he’s not going to.” “he will.” to your fortune, your voice kept its conviction, but it's lessened volume didn’t evade seunghyun’s trained ear. “yeah, keep telling yourself that.” he got up from his chair. his work here was done: he got to the point and under your skin. when you went to open your mouth, as if on cue, your phone rang in your pocket. a gut feeling, and a swift glance at one another, communicated you both knew who it was. seunghyun turned around, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. that’s right, he thought to himself, grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. they have class together today. he saw your hesitancy, “nah, go ahead. answer him.” seunghyun took the last definitive sip of his coffee, leaving his empty cup next to yours, walking out of the café. “don’t wanna intrude.”

you fucking hated to admit it, so you didn’t. but your pensive glance at jiyong, who was sitting on your bed, going on about his plans for the upcoming thanksgiving holiday, said everything your mind pestered over for the last near week. you found the date and time of the game  from the sports section in the stanford daily’s printed edition—this saturday at 1:30 pm—no mention of it from jiyong. you returned your gaze to your laundry basket lodged atop your desk, folded clothes at the end of your bed, whereas jiyong was sitting directly diagonal, his fingers tapping idly on your nightside table. “jiyong?” “yeah, baby?” you tried to be casual about it. keyword being tried: “do you—do you have anything coming up this weekend?” you kept your focus on folding your last few shirts, nose briefly scrunching up in internal defeat. not my smoothest, your inner monologue tutted. jiyong looked at you, “no. why?”

so he just lied. everything’s on the table now—you turned to look at him, “so no game on saturday?” his posture stiffened. “how did you know about that?” “seunghyun told me.” you said without thinking, irritation preceding rationale. jiyong’s eyebrows furrowed, “seunghyun told you?” he repeated, confused. “when? did he text you or something?” his nerves didn’t take long to surface, insecurity attempting to fill the gaps. “i—no, he didn’t.” you tried to patch things up. again, tried. “we ran into each other the other day when i was getting coffee—” “—you did?” that didn’t help the nagging voice in his head. “where do you even go?” “that’s not the point, jiyong.” you dismissed. “why didn’t you tell me? and why did you lie just now?” “because i'm—” he licked his lips, scrambling. “because i’m more than just tennis.”

the sound of your scoff ticked him off. where is this attitude coming from?? he wondered. it reminded him of the worst parts of seunghyun—or maybe he’s misplacing his bitterness. “'more than just tennis.’” you repeated to yourself, tsking. “i don’t like liars, jiyong. you know this.” your eyes met his from your spot across your dorm, the look on your face harnessing the ability to send an atheist to confessional. “if you’re stringing me along, might as well just say it.” “i’m not!” jiyong exclaimed desperately, shaking his head. “i’m not. i swear. i'm—i’m just—” he let out a breath. “i’m not good at these things. relationships,” he clarified. “sometimes i don’t know what to tell you and what to not.” “but this is, like, the most basic thing about you, jiyong. it's written on all the clothing you wear.” you countered. “i mean, do you not want me to come?” “i do. its just that—” he kissed his teeth, losing his words. “its … it's hard to explain.”

you watched his head sink into his palms, the top of his stanford tennis baseball cap visible to you. it was a pitiful sight, though you couldn’t help the percolating sympathy tugging at your chest. you walked over, sound of your footsteps approaching making jiyong lift his head, looking up at you stood between his knees. “would i make you nervous?” “y-yeah,” he broke out into a sheepish smile. isn’t it obvious?—“i mean, who wouldn’t be?” you didn’t say anything at first, only bringing your hand up, holding his cheek in your palm, watching his eyes close to the touch of your thumb tracing his cheekbone. “i’m just a person, jiyong.” you told him. he shook his head, as if it was a personal insult: “no. you are not just a person.” his sentiment affected you harder than anticipated. his hands traced your bountiful waist, fingers feeling the denim of your jeans, palms resting on the back of your thick thighs. his forehead landed on your stomach, “don’t ever say that again.” he murmured into your shirt.

your hand traced the collar of his shirt, tenderly rubbing between his shoulder blades. the image was saintly: a disciple begging for forgiveness, the deity having mercy. your wrist accidentally collided with his cap’s visor, disorienting its backwards position on his head. “you shouldn’t wear this as often as you do.” your voice was noticeably softer. “i like seeing your hair.” “you . . . you do?” he raised his head, eyes having grown twice their size through his brief stint in purgatory. “mhm.” you hummed, taking the cap off his head. you adjusted the closure, fixing it to aptly fit your head. you looked over your shoulder, spotting your reflection in the mounted mirror above your dresser. “how do i look?” his smile was big and stupid, “really cute.” he chuckled. he pressed a kiss onto your clothed stomach, wishing for your attention. “really, really cute.” “ready to cheer you on, hm?” “yeah, you do.” he was flustered at an atomic level, unable to meet your eyes upon your gaze returning to him below you.

“matter of fact,” he giggled, teeth finding his bottom lip. “keep it on.” his finger curled into the hem of your jeans, tugging at the button. you tsked disapprovingly, “i should’ve known.” you walked away, returning to your laundry basket. “why?” he playfully drew out the last syllable, watching you with a soft look of admiration. “i have things to do.” you said, unable to deter the sheepish grin tugging at your mouth. “i can’t get distracted. plus, you have practice in, like, a half hour.” “last time it took only ten minutes,” jiyong relaxed his posture, propping himself up with his hands behind him, resting on the bed. “today it might only take five.” “the last thing i need is to be rushed.” you spoke with an air of finality, matching the remaining socks in your basket. jiyong stood on his feet, tip of his nose meeting your temple before his lips did. “i can always be late.” he suggested, tone smooth. “could come up with an excuse.” “and what would that be? drunk on pussy?”

jiyong’s cheeks burned from trying to hide his smile, momentarily turning his head away. “you said it. not me, baby.” he chuckled, putting his hands up in a playful admission of defeat. his arms found your waist, lips pecking the corner of your mouth—beckoning you wordlessly. you obliged, turning your head. he re-connected the kiss, his small breath of satisfaction tickling your cheeks. “y'know how much i love eating it,” he spoke gently. “right?” “you make it known.” “yeah, i do.” his cheeks bunched up with his proud grin, laughter ringing out of him at the sound of your light scoff, nudging his shoulder with your knuckle. his hands reached up, re-orienting his cap to sit backwards on your head. “for, y'know,” he nodded. “historical accuracy.” your expression turned to one of surprise, shocked at yourself: “how did i forget such an important detail?”

it was relatively easy to find the athletic center, having walked by it a handful of times throughout the last near four years. the only issue was finding the tennis courts, which resolved itself after a run-in at the front desk—you being directed to the elevator to head down a couple floors. you took your seat in the stands, the only one there besides a handful of other students and two apparent reporters for the school newspaper, both deep in conversation as the athletes filed out, small notepad and pen in hand. you waved to jiyong, able to see him and seunghyun without issue, protected from the california sun underneath his stanford tennis cap clad on your head. jiyong waved back with a smile, adjusting his sunglasses to sit at the top of his nose bridge. seunghyun adjusted his, too, cleaning his pair with the hem cardinal red polo before getting into position.

your knowledge of tennis teetered into subpar territory, but it didn’t take an expert to know something was off. the pacing was fast considering it was a doubles match—jiyong behind the net, seunghyun at the baseline. both showcased strength, however, it was seunghyun who held more resolve: hitting the ball after it hurled past jiyong, launching it back to their opponents before it even bounced on his side of the court; pacing after jiyong hit the net with the ball enough times to hand pepperdine the first set of the game, walking wordlessly when switching their end of the court; jiyong nearly dropping his racket, but hitting the ball in time to win them the second set—churning a sharp “shit!” from seunghyun’s diaphragm, swinging his racket at nothing after the chair umpire issued a conduct warning for his use of profanity.

three sets later, stanford clutched a comfortable win—but jiyong wasn’t the one to thank. he felt it in his bones, leaving the locker room with his duffel bag slung over his shoulder: she had my hat on, his inner monologue reminded him, probably saw every time i fucked up. he went to you in the stands, quickly wiping the sweat off his face and neck with his microfiber towel, initially greeting you with a chaste kiss. he let his duffel bag fall to the ground, kissing you more properly, hoping it would deter his swirling frustration. to his misfortune, his quick, dependent movements swiftly gave it away. “hi,” he spoke softly, looking at you behind the polarized lens of his sunglasses. “how’d you like it, hm?” “it was interesting,” you chose your words carefully, aware enough to sense the game didn’t unfold ideally. “i wish i knew more about the rules.” “they’re complicated.” he brushed off with a subtle shake of his head—another sign he wanted to move past this. he licked his lips in thought, glancing at the court before returning to you. “you up for a late lunch? my car’s not far. we could go off campus.” “that sounds fine—” “—great.” he took your hand, turning around. “wait—hold on.” your fingers found his wrist. jiyong glanced over his shoulder, eyebrows furrowed. “what?” “you don’t wanna talk about this?” you offered. “i mean, i may not know much about the mechanics. but i can listen.”

jiyong turned to face you fully. “i promise m'fine, baby.” he leaned in, aligning his nose beside yours, kissing your lips. you re-connected them, hand coming up to hold his cheek, feeling a small gust of wind float by—a silent plea. jiyong kissed you again, slowly separating your lips, taking a breath. “we good?” “if you are, yeah.” he wasn’t, though. his flubs percolated at the back of his mind on repeat, tainting his sight akin to summertime gnats and deepening the burden in his chest like a poorly grilled hot dog at the cookout. he was quiet at panera bread—a popular bakery-café and frequent off campus meeting spot for fellow students—eating his sandwich, sat across the booth from you, mute. it wasn’t a comfortable silence in which you two organically co-existed. the unresolved tension weighed on you enough to upkeep your pretended interest on the cars driving by outside, keeping you and your sandwich so close to yourself. it would’ve been better if i just came alone, your inner monologue pestered.

sitting in his car prolonged the silence, the only difference now being the white noise of the air conditioning. you looked to your left, seeing jiyong looking out his driver’s seat window—elbow propped against the door, fingers holding his chin; in his own world. you couldn’t take it anymore: “you know,” you began. “you could’ve just told me you weren’t feeling okay.” “i’m fine.” he muttered. “you’re obviously not.” you countered, growing annoyed with the back of his head. “there’s no need to lie, jiyong.” his eyes closed, frustration tugging at his senses. “i don’t wanna talk about this.” “fine,” you huffed. you crossed your arms over your chest, “then the least you could do is drive me home.” you said, looking out of your window at the surrounding panera parking lot. jiyong turned his head, “where does your attitude come from?” he was unabashed, shaking his head in disbelief. “like, am i not allowed to show emotion or something?” “i could ask you the same thing.” you met him where he was at—since he wanted to go there. “this could’ve been resolved if you just talked to me about the game. instead, you just sat there with that—” you gestured to him over the center console, trying to find your words. “with that face on your face.”

“sorry i’m such an eye sore.” jiyong’s tone was riddled with bitter sarcasm. insecurity turned him into a puppet: “i know i’m not the hottest arm candy to have, or whatever.” “what the actual fuck are you talking about right now, jiyong?” you were bewildered, eyes widening at him. you shook your head, “don’t turn this into something else. that’s not what this is about.” a breath left your lips, “look, you’re obviously upset that it didn’t go as well as you—” “—stop.” jiyong cut you off sternly, tight-lipped. “just stop.” he repeated, seeing your offended expression in his periphery. he turned his body, facing you. “one thing you need to know is not everything that comes out of my mouth is some sort of—some sort of big lie trying to trick you. no one is out to get you,” the way he shook his head patronized the fuck out of you—as if his big words couldn’t dare be comprehended in your subordinate head. “if i wanna keep that shit to myself, i’ll keep it to myself. is that okay with you? or do i need permission for that, too? written consent?” “and i’m the one with the attitude?” you raised your eyebrows, fingers pressing against your chest for emphasis. you scoffed in disbelief, “you got me beat, jiyong. i don’t know how we got here. i don’t know what to say.” “then don’t say anything at all.”

oh! “right,” you chuckled with purposeful malice, thinking it was about time you wielded your own arsenal bent on belittlement. “my apologies, big guy. my apologies.” your sarcasm rivaled his, putting your hands up in faux-defeat before letting your palms fall to your thighs. jiyong began to tap his foot, knee periodically bumping into the bottom of the steering wheel. “the least you can do is drive me home.” you repeated, tone unwavering. he didn’t say anything, only staring ahead and out the windshield, fingers tugging at his lips. how fucking overdramatic, your inner monologue grumbled. “i don’t see us moving.” you said aloud. “hello?” jiyong ran his hand over his face, “you don’t understand.” “then make me!” you exclaimed. “you’re not even letting me try! how far do you think you’d get talking to a brick wall?” “i’m not an open book.” “i’m not asking you to be, jiyong.” “yes, you are.”

“no i’m not!—” you cut yourself off, pinching the bridge of your nose. it's like pulling teeth—you exhaled through your nostrils: “i’m going to be so for real with you, jiyong.” you said. “if you want this to work, you need to trust me. i’m not asking for you to cut yourself wide open and let me look inside. i’m just asking to know you.” you implored. “i can’t be with you if it's just bracing for impact for the next time you have that look on your face.” what the fuck is his deal?? you couldn’t figure it out for the life of you, “i’m not going to beg you to talk to me. i have better things to do with my time.” it was dead silent in the car. you didn’t feel an iota of regret, nor did you plan on it. you’re a no-nonsense person—it's his problem if he doesn’t know that by now, you thought to yourself. your gaze fell to your lap momentarily, picking a piece of lint off of your denim shorts. your ears perked up at the sound of his sniffle. oh, you beyond appalled, your eyes closing. you have got to be fucking kidding me.

“i’m a nice fucking guy, okay?” jiyong cried. “i don't—i don’t stand in people’s way. i-i don’t bother anyone—” he descended into a blubbering mess, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. “and all i want is—is to just feel good. just feel fucking good for once. but its—its so hard. w-what am i doing wrong?” your frustration verged into a nauseous state. i know he did not just 'i’m a nice guy’ me, your stare was lethal—able to topple empires and sever a grown man’s jaw in half with a mere bat of your eyelashes. jiyong didn’t have the nerve to look at you, but definitely felt your eyes, because he cried harder. or it sounded like it, at least: why does it sound almost theatrical—"i’m sorry, baby!“ he wailed. jiyong was suddenly eye-to-eye with you, cheeks wet and bottom lip quivering. "i-i promise i’ll be better. i'll—i’ll figure this out. for you.” he sniffled.

before you could respond, he took your hands in his, pressing kisses into your skin. he reeked of desperation, leaning over the center console, lips molding against your clothed shoulder, descending down your exposed arm. “please don’t leave me.” he murmured shakily, wetness of his tears permeating into your warm skin. he took extra time in kissing the stretch marks adorning your elbow pit, rendering you speechless watching him lean down to your bare knee, doting it with his lips before resting his forehead. “please don’t leave me.” he repeated, “please. i’m b-begging you.” his hands aimlessly palmed at your thighs. it was a horrendously pathetic sight. you couldn’t remember the last time you witnessed such multi-faceted weakness: someone so keen on skirting around the consequences of his actions, yet somehow able to turn himself into the victim, all the while begging for validation. i have to give it to him, your hand found the back of his head, relishing in the vibrations of his satisfied shudders against your supple thigh, fingers combing through his hair, this takes another type of audacity to pull off entirely.

unbeknownst to jiyong, that was his first strike of three. the second came a few days after you returned from thanksgiving break, running into a teammate in the dining hall. it was a relatively short conversation, exchanging pleasantries and brief anecdotes from the holiday before parting—sending each other off with an amicable “see you at tomorrow’s meeting.” but when you returned to your seat across from jiyong, ready to dig into your roast chicken and pasta, he had a different idea: “who’s that?” he asked, cutting into his salmon. “oh, him?” you glanced over your shoulder, seeing your teammate some feet away, standing in line for the freshly-baked cookies. “we do debate together.” you answered casually. you took a bite of your penne, wiping the marinara droplet off the corner of your mouth with a napkin.

jiyong took a bite of his food, “seemed a little into you.” you immediately caught his drift. “based on what metric?” you didn’t hesitate, “delusion?” “my eyesight.” he looked at you, completely serious. tou planted your elbow on the table, using your fork to point at him: “whatever this is,” you gestured a small circle, looking jiyong up and down for emphasis. “shut that bullshit down immediately.” “you’re not my mom.” jiyong muttered, sticking the prongs of his fork back into the salmon, eating another piece with a soured, yet muted expression, cutting a green bean in half. “can’t tell me off like that whenever you feel like it.” “i can if it's nonsensical.” you responded without looking up, cutting your chicken. “eat your food and mind your own.” you said with finality. jiyong knew you were right, but his already impaired ego further decaying put a bitter taste in his mouth. you ate your respective dinners in silence, only speaking when you left the dining hall: you met eyes with your teammate sitting with his friends, offering a polite wave. jiyong saw him return it, taking your other hand tightly in his, leading you out the door: “your irrational way of thinking can make you an eyesore, jiyong.” “you make me this way.”

though jiyong held his boyish charm well, overtime, you learned he was comfortable enough to bite back. or worse, intentionally go against your grain. were you any better? sure . . . but marginally. you left a missed call unreturned here and there, gave him a look reading why would i? after suggesting playing tennis together, and offered a subtly raised eyebrow whenever he so desperately craved praise about anything. he got as high a grade as you on the midterm? he’s thwarting the atomic-level urge to skip his way home after your chaste kiss of congratulations to his cheek. it's rumored that his national ranking may rise by the time you two graduate? your loser boyfriend’s knees are buckling at the sound of your “thats great news, jiyongie,” coupled with that gorgeous fucking smile. he also ate your pussy like he fucking meant it, and you made his tip your bitch—sometimes going out of your way to pamper the slit with your warm tongue, and if he was extra lucky, a swirl around the head, watching the thin line of your spit and his precum connect him to your tongue. if he had the means, you’d have a birkin by now for all the trouble.

he gave it to you good that friday night, spending the last weekend before finals living comfortably between your big thighs. fresh from practice, hair still damp between your fingers from his quick locker room shower before speeding over to your dorm, tongue warm and deep between your puffy lips—this is what you fucking needed. after a week of spending a stupid amount of time in the library, squashing foolish disagreements between your teammates, and just having too much going on in that fucking head of yours—let him do the talking, or lack thereof. your arm relaxed over your eyes, lips parted as jiyong made himself known in the ones below your beautifully round fucking waist, jesus fucking christ . . . his palms dotingly toured your rolls, thumb etching over the tail ends of the stretch marks adorning your stomach; sticking out of your shirt’s hem, before gradually returning his touch to the back of your thigh, hands gently pushing against the back of your knees to keep your legs comfortably spread.

he glanced up, satisfied at the sight of you completely at the helm of his personal love language. i could do this for-fucking-ever, he thought to himself. jiyong latched off for a brief breather, licking his glistening lips, humming in content at your taste. his hands trailed down your thighs, thumbs on either side of your puffy pussy, pulling your lips apart. he spotted the general area of where your clit was, resuming his business. your eyes rolled behind your arm, back arching, your curled toes scratching into his bare waist, turning jiyong into a devout believer in the divine feminine. “o—oh, f-fuck!” your breath hitched. “just like that. o—ooh, f-fuck. . .” you drew out the last syllable behind gritted teeth, jaw falling open as your eyebrows contorted sinfully. the vibrations of his satisfied hum awoke your subconscious, landing him in a headlock. not that he was complaining at all—he moved his head to the left to align with the new angle, good to go. jiyong fucking loved being smothered between those thick fucking thighs of yours—his hearing muffled in and out, squished between your supple skin; body hair tickling his ears; the privilege of squeezing them, feeling the divots of your cellulite between his fingers—he let out a whimper, eyebrows furrowed vulnerably whilst he continued his ministrations like the good boy he is.

jiyong suckled and lapped, feeling his lips minutely tingle every time he popped off your clit. he inhaled deeply through his nostrils when your legs separated, a ghost of a whimper curdling at the back of his throat over your illustrious scent. he sunk his hips further into the duvet, body compensating for his overflowing libido, wishing he could return to your previous position. “thats so good,” your eyes were now visible, but voice barely audible—hardly above a whisper. he ate your shit too fucking good, nearly rendering you speechless. “thats so fucking—ngh! o—oh! good, baby.” “yeah? you deserve it.” he said without hesitation, his casual balance between lapping your hole and talking making you fight the urge to shove his face deeper into your cunt. “so stressed, all pent-up,” he popped off slowly, “the least i can do fucking for do you is be good.” his thumbs separated your lips, solely lapping your clit, churning a sharp gasp out from your diaphragm. “right, baby?” “r—right. right,” you breathed shakily, nodding fervently. your fingers brushed his hair back, trying to maintain some sort of a grip. “just—just k-keeping doing that with your—” “—i know, i know. i will.”

you watched him until you couldn’t, head falling back onto your pillow, eyelids heavy and mouth hung open. you barely mustered communication through weak moans and an oddly positioned waist after an intense wave of pleasure left you with one less iota of logic, gingerly shifted back into place through jiyong’s effortless knowledge of your body. jiyong must’ve really starved you of all common sense with his greedy ass fucking tongue, because of all of sudden, you were thinking of his best friend—what? your eyes shot open, panic brewing in your chest, successfully thwarting it by relishing in who was really between your thighs. jiyong looked good, too—handsome. you grounded yourself to him, raking your fingers through his hair, settling your palm on the back of his head, grinding into his face. “that’s fucking right, baby,” he praised, tongue swiping your puffy lips, his cock begging to be freed from his briefs. his hand found the back of your knee, momentarily raising your leg as he lapped the fuck out of your clit, sucking hard before popping off—sending your eyes to the back of your head. “i’m yours.”

you thought you were safe—trusting in his verbal affirmation to settle back into your pillow, ready to succumb to the pleasures provided by jiyong and only jiyong. you closed your eyes, lips parted once again—feeling that swirling tongue and whiny mouth. it worked for all of two minutes. seunghyun snuck in from your periphery, illuminating your senses with his fragmented appearances thus far in your life. it pissed you the fuck off, considering he hasn’t said a fucking word to me, let alone appear since that day at coho’s, your inner monologue ranted, didn’t say a word—no text, no nothing after the pepperdine match. who the fuck does he think he is? you opened your eyes, determined to re-direct your focus: “you b-better eat it like you mean it, jiyongie.” you pulled out all the stops, teeth raking over your bottom lip, stifling a whimper. “i mean it,” he’s completely lost in you, giving his jaw a momentary break, peppering kisses along your inner thighs, spoiling you. “i fucking mean it, baby.”

please, you begged your brain. we’ve been dating for barely two months. don’t make me do this to him. you let out a long exhale, eyes closed with a hand in jiyong’s hair, pseudo-praying to whatever higher force there was that what was trying to happen wasn’t. but as soon as jiyong’s tongue returned to your divineness, the battle was lost. it didn’t exist to begin with—you were just in denial. your breath turned shallow, mind foggy with flashes from the hotel room: how soft seunghyun’s face felt in your palms, the early autumn humidity making his cheeks stick minutely to your skin that your nails raked against jiyong’s scalp to compensate; how he was so fucking quick to take your lips for himself, coming right back to you without a shred of hesitation after jiyong knocked him off aim—to him being out of breath from running after you to the elevator; a man so tall, with a bravado so traditionally and nauseatingly masculine, falling to the beauty of a woman . . . thats what i like to see . . . you kneaded your breast through your shirt, eyebrows furrowed in your lustful trance.

a delicate moan left your lips, remembering seunghyun’s smirk tugging at his mouth whilst sat across from you at coho. jiyong thought you were still with him, but his delicious lapping of your clit was used in tandem with memories of his best friend’s grunts on the tennis court. “s—!” your eyes nearly fell out of your head, slapping your hand on top of your mouth so harshly it stung. you looked down, seeing your thighs clenched around jiyong’s head—so lost in your own, you hadn’t realized you were practically suffocating him. but with how he nursed your clit relentlessly, bringing you closer to unraveling the building knot in your abdomen, he didn’t seem to mind. in fact, he misheard: “are you close, baby?” his voice was muffled against you. “y-yes—” you avoided saying a name at all fucking costs. “just—just k-keep—oh my god!” your hips involuntarily bucked up with seunghyun’s grunts replaying in your head, chasing your high using his best friend’s face.

your body was overwhelmed, nails digging into your cheeks to shut you the fuck up, eyes glossing over through your efforts. you looked down, eyelids barely able to keep themselves open. only the top of jiyong’s head was visible. in your blurry, hazy line of sight, he looked like seunghyun. there’s a special place for me in hell—"f-fuck!“ a guttural moan rang out of your chest, setting your entire body on fire. you heard your back crack from how high your arch went, hands holding a clueless jiyong steady to your cunt. you don’t think you’ve ever came this fucking hard in your life. you felt depleted of all energy, hips bucking, doing anything to deal with the sheer intensity of your orgasm. you breathed deeply, eyes barely open, senses somewhat awoken when jiyong’s lips found your cheek, feeling his arms wrap around you afterward. you think he said something along the lines of "its okay, baby. i got you,” in an effort to bring you back down to earth—but you couldn’t have cared less. you came so hard your ears were ringing—heartbeat pulsating between your temples in makeshift morse code: three strikes. you’re out, jiyong.

you felt horrible, but none more than confused. jiyong’s blissfully unaware state, sleeping peacefully next to you as his light snores melted into his pillow. you turned onto your side, your back facing jiyong’s, eyes trained on the cast of a nearby street light peppering in through the blinds. am i not over him? the question made you shrivel up. what am i? not a day over sixteen? you ran your hand over your face, trying to ground yourself: what could’ve even led to this? i haven’t thought about seunghyun in what feels like forever, you wondered. you mentally rifled through the possibilities, trying to maintain momentum despite the uncomfortably sensitive feelings erupting in your chest. it was really fucking hard, and at times embarrassing, but you’ve never felt this way before. you would be remised not to get to the bottom of it for your peace of mind.

you traced it back to coho: “he doesn’t know what he’s doing,” you overheard seunghyun rather fleetingly in the moment. but now, it taunted you. what began as a curious itch, wondering what the fuck he meant by that, turned into a catalyst for hyper-critical analysis. what was seen as endearing when you first met jiyong—his overt shyness, sheepish glances, awestruck look in his eyes when you did so much as acknowledge him—now served as the thin veil weakly guarding himself, or better yet, his insecurities. his sweetness and charming smile didn’t feel like a front. he wanted to please in many meanings of the word, and he did—you can attest to that. seeing him after the night at the hotel, however, every step forward tugged further at the veil: the sudden glossiness in his eyes finding out seunghyun had your number the entire time, a well-hidden quiver when asking if you two were just friends, blatantly disregarding you from a significant part of his life for reasons you’ve just realized you still don’t understand, blatantly disrespecting your opinion once things didn’t go an agreeable (or his) way, jealousy permeating his logic enough to rival already resident insecurities, the audacity to unironically call himself a “nice guy,” and the final tug—being so good at eating pussy that his girlfriend thinks of his best friend.

you let out a sigh, okay, that last one's my fault, you pinched the bridge of your nose, feeling the bed dip, jiyong adjusting himself in his sleep. but it's all been culminating, you inner monologue reasoned, my wake-up call just happened to be visceral. your warming face sunk into your palms, and really fucking hot. you couldn’t do yourself the disservice of denying it any longer. you reached for your sidekick on your nightside table, clicking your messages, reading the texts seunghyun sent the night you and jiyong went out: Hi this is suenghun; Call me when u can. so hell-bent he didn’t spell his own name correctly, your teeth found your bottom lip, unabashedly staring at your small screen. your thumb circled the trackball, eyeing the Reply button in the bottom right-hand corner. without thinking, you pressed it, sliding up the screen to reveal the tactile keyboard.

it was half past one in the morning, and seunghyun really wanted his day to end. practice was grueling, and having to make a b-line to the library right afterward wasn’t ideal. he filed into his bedroom after brushing his teeth, hearing his text tone go off, retrieving his blackberry from his desk. he sat down in bed, about to toss his phone onto his nightside table, until he saw the name on his screen. seunghyun did a double take, pressing the trackball quicker than he’d like to admit. his hearty chuckle would’ve given him away, anyway: I didnt know your name was spelled like that. your text tone went off, too. and loudly—“shit!” you exclaimed in a whisper, clutching your phone to your chest, hand atop the speaker. jiyong stirred in his sleep, completely unaware. you muted your phone before gradually lifting it. you hadn’t expected seunghyun to respond so quickly considering his track record, but his text didn’t fail in keeping your interest: How do u think its spelled

you grinned. in his slumber, jiyong turned to face you. the sight of his cheek squished against his pillow, hand inches away from yours, brought you back down to earth—realizing what you were doing. this little pocket of temptation dissipated with every press of a key, shoving it away with finality onto your nightside table before dozing off. asshole, seunghyun read. “spot on.” he muttered to himself, amused. he typed his final message of the night, Ji’s got u real bored huh. seunghyun started his morning with a taste of his own medicine: no response. you read his text when you woke up. self-consequential bitterness soured your mouth, until you heard jiyong’s quiet murmurs beside you, followed by his warm skin nurturing yours. you scooted closer, lips dotingly kissing his senses awake.

you decided to start finals week with a semblance of peace, putting those confusing feelings behind you. you had a mixed bag of examinations and projects—booked and busy all five days. jiyong’s workload was just as intense, but ended mid-week. he was flying home early in the morning, keen on spending his last night of the semester with you. he brought you take-out, knocking on your door wednesday evening, following the submission of his last final project and your lengthy rules of war exam. he pulled a chair from the student lounge down the hall to eat with you at your desk, satisfied with how close your arms rubbed together. his kisses were characteristically sweet, hand pulling you to your bed, despite your protests. “cmon, baby,” jiyong pouted from the edge of your bed, bringing your hand to his lips, pressing kisses on your inner wrist. “m'not gonna see you for so long. let me have a taste before i go.” “you do need to go,” you concurred with a nod, bringing your hands to his shoulders. jiyong snuck a kiss onto your palm, “your flight’s at seven. it's nearly ten and you’re still here.”

“i’ll be fine.” he said cooly. his hands found your waist, bringing you closer, standing between his knees. “wanna make you feel good,” he muttered, pressing a kiss onto your clothed stomach, the fabric of your stanford university hoodie matching his crewneck. his lips stretched into a smile, “it’ll be my christmas gift.” “fuck off and go to bed, jiyong.” “but i’m already here?” you kissed your teeth, nudging his shoulder and walking away, until he beckoned you back with a sweet-sounding giggle—catching your hand in his. “i’m kidding, i’m kidding. you know me, baby.” “i do.” you nodded. you walked to your previous spot in front of jiyong, hand slipping out of his, arms resting atop his shoulders. you gave him a sweet kiss, feeling his hands dotingly rub your lower back. “m'not in the mood tonight, jiyongie.” you reconnected the kiss, “got a lot on my mind.” “everything okay?” “m'fine but—” you softly broke the kiss, looking into his eyes. “i guess i’m just not in the headspace.” and no, i’m not alluding to fucking seunghyun, your inner monologue cursed at the pessimist’s voice in your head, i’m talking about the education policy exam i have tomorrow afternoon. fuck him.

“you’re good, baby.” said jiyong. “i’m just happy i got to see you before i left.” “thank you,” you held his face in your palms, kissing his cheek. “and me, too.” you heard him hum in content, molding your lips with his. “i’ll walk you out, hm?” “i’d never turn that down.” you walked hand-in-hand out of your residential building to his car in the front lot, slipping into his embrace. “text me when you’re at the airport,” you felt his arms tighten around your waist, his lips nestled into the supple skin of your neck. “and when you’re home. just wanna make sure all went well.” “you got it.” he felt your hand rest along the side of his neck, silently asking for his eyes. “have a safe flight, okay?” “i will, baby.” jiyong aligned the bridge of his nose next to yours, kissing you tenderly. when he pulled away, there was a particular glimmer you hadn’t seen before in his eyes. an ever-so-small gasp escaped from the back of his throat when he realized that you realized what he wanted to say—almost as if he’d been caught.

“i-i—” jiyong panicked. “i gotta go. it's getting late.” i really need to stop being nice to men, your inner monologue was floored—genuinely. you can be known for your subtlety, but you couldn’t keep your raised eyebrows at bay, “right.” you nodded, amused, watching him open the driver’s seat door. jiyong was quick to get inside—subconsciously trying to scurry from the fiery pit of embarrassment threatening to make him nauseous, stopping short of sitting in his seat. he hovered awkwardly before standing to his feet, looking over at you with an iota of conviction, at the very least. “i’ll see you after break.” “see you, jiyong.” with that, he got in his car, waving to you from the window after backing out of his parking spot. you waved back, eyes on him until he pulled out onto the street. your eyebrows furrowed with a tinge of frustration, shaking your head at his sheer audacity: “what a fucking coward.”

thursday morning was peaceful. no debate meeting until the first week of january, though nationals prep was waiting at your front door step armed with ibuprofen and a voucher for your sanity—but that was future you’s problem. you woke up at half eight, intent on getting some last minute review in before your education policy exam that afternoon. jiyong texted you promptly at six in the morning—At my gate. Boarding soon. I miss you :)—making a mental note to respond after your exam. you took a break at half eleven, stretching your arms over your head at your desk, letting out a long exhale. you got up, opting to open your window to filter fresh air into your room. winters at stanford were a mixed bag—patterns of rain, cool winds, drops in temperature at night—but today, you lucked out with clear skies in the sixties. in your moment of quiet, catching sight of a student and their family in the parking lot, helping them move out—your phone rang.

picking up your sidekick, your eyebrows furrowed at the screen. “what?” you whispered to yourself, confused—it was seunghyun. is this a mistake? or—you pressed the green call button, answering. “hello?” “so your phone does work.” “why’re you calling me?” seunghyun looked to either side of the road, crossing it once the cars cleared. “i just finished at practice and am heading to the library now,” he switched the hand his phone was in, holding the blackberry more comfortably to his right ear. “i wanted some company.” “you can’t spend ten minutes alone?” “nah,” he answered simply. “but looks like you couldn’t either the other night.” “that was a mistake.” you responded with attempted conviction. seunghyun smirked to himself, “sure,” he cooly brushed off, “you didn’t answer my question, though.”

you picked at the hem of your shirt, face warming. “what?” you asked, wanting to buy yourself time, the move useless and irrational. “don’t be like that,” you could hear his shit-eating smile. “what’d i tell you before? lying doesn’t look good on you.” “and like i said,” you gestured to yourself, the conviction in your tone now unthreatened. “i’m not gonna let you swing your dick in my face. why’re you calling me?” “like i said, i’m walking—” “—no, seunghyun.” you cut him off sharply, shaking your head though he couldn’t see. “why’re you calling me?” there was a brief pause. seunghyun turned the corner, walking past tourists taking photos by the stanford oval. “did jiyong bore you?” he was stubborn, like you. it was your turn for a brief pause, contemplating not only what to say but how to say it. jiyong didn’t bore you, per se, but he also wasn’t the reason you came as hard as you did friday night. it was a complicated answer either way. with every passing second, overhearing seunghyun’s sneakers skid against the sidewalk on his end of the line, you were further incriminating yourself. seunghyun didn’t need another boost of his fucking ego, anyway. so you went with your best option: “stop deflecting. its tired.”

seunghyun wasn’t a fool: “look who’s talking.” he chuckled. “you don’t get to talk,” you countered. “want to be all ominous, throw a tantrum at coho’s, and then disappear.” you tsked. “the fuck do you think you are? what do you think this is? who you think i am?” “jiyong doesn’t see this side of you, now does he?” said seunghyun. “what does that matter? who cares what he knows or doesn’t.” you muttered. in the moment, you didn’t realize how that sounded, though seunghyun did. he didn’t jump on it yet, however. not that you gave him the chance to, anyway: “what is your problem? like, seriously. i’ve never met anyone like you before.” “likewise,” seunghyun concurred. he looked up, seeing the library in the near distance. “although i have the suspicion that you don’t mean it as a compliment.” “like the fuck i do!” seunghyun ran his hand over his face, trying to temper his flustered state, hiding his big, sheepish smile behind his palm—he couldn’t get enough of this. not that he’d ever mention it in a million fucking years, but bickering was always the way to go with him.

gentle crackling filed in from either side of the line. you let out a sigh, “why did you call me, seunghyun?” “i wanted to see if you were free tonight for dinner.” your eyes fell closed, completely appalled. “there has got to be something wrong with you.” you heard his laughter, “i’m of perfectly sound mine.” he sat down on one of the benches outside of the library, overlooking the granite fountain. “look, i’m on campus. you’re on campus. it's no big deal.” “how do you know i’m still here?” “jiyong might've—” seunghyun licked his lips, knowing he dug himself into a self-incriminating hole, but it was too late to get out now. “ji might’ve mentioned it the other day in the locker room.” it was like your senses cleared. a knowing smile stretched your lips, nodding your head with an added air of self-indulgent pride: “i see,” your tone was curt. “so you waited for him to be out of the picture. you might be the worst friend in the world.” “maybe.” seunghyun muttered. “definitely.” you corrected him, a frown began to tug at your mouth, a flicker of a furrow irritating your eyebrows.

the both of you teetered onto the line of doing something you shouldn’t. neither you nor seunghyun hung up, though. it was inexplicit. it existed in the numbers logging the duration of your phone call, each higher than the previous. you’re the one who broke the silence. or tried to: “what makes you think i’d want to get dinner?” seunghyun was ready for that from the moment he dialed, “you answered on the first ring.” silence filled the call once again. seunghyun couldn’t see you, but he could feel the hesitation. it stirred in his chest, too, but like you, he still hadn’t hung up. he didn’t intend to, “eating alone is embarrassing.” he said. “it doesn’t have to be.” you countered. seunghyun understood your sentiment differently. whether on purpose or not, you couldn’t tell. “yeah, exactly. it doesn’t have to be. so you should come with. i mean, we’re friends. right? so what’s the harm?” “do friends ghost each other for two months without explanation, and then act like everything’s okay out of fucking nowhere?”

he kissed his teeth, looking down at his sneakers with shame. “that wasn’t one of my best moments.” he muttered. “you’re telling me.” you remarked. seunghyun held his chin with his fingers, biting his inner cheek in thought. “he doesn’t have to know, if that’s what you’re worried about.” “that’s definitely reassuring.” you dead-panned. “i mean—” he let out a breath, trying to collect his thoughts. “what i meant is . . . what is there to know about two friends getting dinner together? just keeping each other company?” you didn’t answer. he felt himself become somewhat desperate, but kept his tone leveled. “c'mon,” he implored smoothly. “my meal credits are low and i’m over the dining hall food, anyway. think of it as a fresh start. an apology for being an asshole. might as well get to know your boyfriend’s best friend, too.” “you are a fucking asshole.” you made sure he knew it, and that it stung. it did considering how quickly he was to cut you off, “yeah, yeah—i know. i fuckin’ know,” he ran his hand over his face, “so what do you—so what do you say, huh?”

you didn’t want to answer, though the pit in your stomach said otherwise. you were astonished at the thoughts running through your head, how seamless your logic felt, plainly taking into consideration what seunghyun offered. there it was again—that tug of curiosity. it took you down a cynical rabbit hole friday night, picking up your phone to text him against your better judgment. only this time, he was on the other side of the line. breathing. waiting. he—this felt more real. although, it didn’t scare you. the brewing temptation was on the verge of becoming all-consuming. you felt selfish, but it felt good. you gradually turned around, purposefully looking at your reflection in the mirror mounted above your dresser. be serious, you thought to yourself carefully. it was a mere ten seconds, but seunghyun felt as if an entire decade surpassed him—or maybe it was the pit in his stomach doing the talking. whilst his foot tapped absentmindedly, you stared into your eyes pensively, posing a question: would i be able to live with myself if i went? your subconscious took charge, providing a rather blunt answer, because suddenly you found yourself not wanting to think about jiyong at all. the reason? well, he doesn’t have to know. because there’s nothing to know . . .

“if i go,” seunghyun’s ears perked up, posture straightening. “you can’t pretend to be all mysterious. you have to be an actual person. and not insufferable.” “i didn’t know friendships came with conditions.” “do you want me to come or not?” “i do.” he said quicker than his prideful self would’ve preferred. “what time should i come get you?” “where are we going?” “applebee’s.” he heard you let out a laugh. his shoulders relaxed at the sound, “what’s so funny?” “nothing,” you shook your head. “it's just for a second there i forgot that we’re college students. i don't—” you shook your head again, trying to wipe the amused smile off your face. “i don’t know what i expected.” “well,” his tone returned to his habitual smoothness. he was almost gentle, “could you think of something better?” “no, actually.” you admitted. “i don’t go off-campus much, so i’m next to clueless.” seunghyun stopped himself from taking a dig at jiyong, “you need to live life more.” “i do.” you attempted to counter. “well, sometimes.” you heard his chuckle, “yeah, i figured. i can’t imagine the type of shit you go through with debate.”

“you have no idea, seunghyun.” a smile tugged at his mouth hearing his name leave your mouth. so casually, so effortlessly. like you’ve known him for years. “i should go. i have an exam in less than two hours.” “you don’t make a good friend.” “excuse me?” “you haven’t asked what i’m doing at the library.” “do i look dense? its obviously for finals.” “you never asked what i study, either. i know your political science from jiyong. friends should know these things about each other.” seunghyun smiled to himself. he heard you huff, “we can talk about this tonight.” “you didn’t tell me what time i should get you, either.” you paused, “stop with this mind game shit,” you heard him laugh. “don’t run me in circles. come at seven. i live in sterling quad.” “you got it.” you heard a different kind of smile in his voice. seunghyun’s face warmed, “i’ll see you tonight. good luck today. not that you need it, y'know.” “you, too.” you said. “in whatever you . . . do.” seunghyun couldn’t help himself, “physics.” he told you. your eyes widened, “damn!” “what?” “you need to stop presenting yourself as such a dumbass.” “yeah—yeah . . . you’re right.”

seunghyun arrived on time. or unbeknownst to you, ten minutes early. if it weren’t for the niceties he had to exchange with his roommate’s family before they left for winter break, seunghyun would’ve been driving aimlessly around the mostly empty parking lot outside of your residential building for a half hour. he tried to not think about the anxious curdling weaving through his ribs, permeating his stomach, traveling up his throat—a mix of excitement with a slight dash of guilt—but not enough to deter himself from calling you at 7:02 pm: “i’m outside. ready when you are.” “okay, i’ll be out in a second. gotta find my—” “—you’re good. see you—” he grinned when you cut the call off. a few moments later, he looked up from the driver’s seat, seeing you walk out of the front entrance. he stepped out of his parked car, waving his hand with an unabashed smile. “it's no land rover,” he gestured to his toyota corolla behind him. a sense of victory flustered his veins at the sound of your chuckle, eyes following you to the passenger’s seat door, “but it works well.”

applebee’s wasn’t far off campus. however, the evening traffic was humbling. just need that last turn two fucking blocks away, seunghyun’s inner monologue said bitterly. he tapped his fingers along the bottom of the steering wheel, glancing to his right, seeing you looking idly at the surrounding cars out your window. his gaze fell, seeing your hands sitting politely in your lap. you held them in the same manner the night at the hotel, only moving once his lips met yours for the first time. seunghyun’s tongue swiped his bottom lip, looking away from you with a sharp inhale through his nostrils. he rested his elbow against his door, fingers running over his face without realizing—a subconscious effort to mimic the feeling of yours against his tan skin—trying to relax his quickening heartbeat. can’t believe she’s the same person from that night, he thought, foot pressing gently on the gas pedal, moving an inch forward, she had me drooling, fucking forgetting my own name. now she’s sitting all quiet, like that shit didn’t happen. what’s her deal? how the fuck did jiyong get her—you unknowingly interrupted his internal rant with a small yawn leaving your lips—the events of your day coupled with brewing hunger catching up to you.

it was odd, how seunghyun’s frustration deflated because of something so natural—something not requiring much thought. his mind went elsewhere: i wonder how long she’s been up, he pondered, eyes glancing at the dashboard, seeing it was half past seven. probably works real hard, too, he sighed in the comfortable silence, some part of him feeling lucky to co-exist with you, especially after how he initially ran amuck. i didn’t even ask her about her exam. is it too late to now? probably, considering we’ve been together for a half hour . . . his gaze returned to you, “sorry about all the traffic.” a nervous grin tugged at a corner of his mouth, playing it cool by patting his hands atop his jeans at a fragmented rhythm. you turned your head, looking at him. “it's all good,” you reassured. “it's not in your control.”

“did your—” his words caught in his throat, looking out the windshield to ground himself—why is it always with her that i can’t fucking speak??—“did your exam go okay?” “yeah, it did. thank you for asking.” a gentle grin adorned your features. “how about you? how did it go studying for . . .” seunghyun filled in the gap for you, “quantum error correction.” you raised an eyebrow, “do i even need to ask what that is?” “nah,” seunghyun chuckled, his eyes kissing at the ends. “i won’t bore you. although, i gotta ask,” you rested your head against your seat, listening. “with your law and justice stuff, are you sure you’re not trying to kick bush out?” you scoffed, “did jiyong tell you about my track?” “yeah,” seunghyun nodded, “he’s mentioned it before.” “i don’t ever want to be president, but if it meant beating bush . . .” you looked out your window, shaking your head in thought. “shit, i’d literally be on the ticket right now, campaigning my ass off.” seunghyun let out a hearty laugh, “you’re right, you’re right.” he concurred. “glad we’re on the same page.”

“why physics then, hm?” you asked after a few moments. “with tennis, it's like you’re trying to be an overachieving asshole.” seunghyun put his hands up in faux-defeat, that same wave of victory from before washing over his skin at the sight of your amused grin in his periphery, “not too much on me, now.” he joked. “but on a real note,” his foot pressed the gas, moving the car forward, inching closer to the necessary exit. “i guess i’ve always liked it.” “just casually?” “well, not really casually.” he tried to find the words. “i guess—i guess my dad kinda showed me. pushed me towards it.” he glanced at you, seeing you nod in acknowledgement. “i guess i lucked out. 'cause i’m here.” he gestured around him with his left hand, referring to stanford. “i see,” you said. “your parents must be really proud of you.”

seunghyun looked at you, a flinch of a furrow tickling his eyebrows. did she say that on purpose? his inner monologue ran a mile a minute, that’s the same thing she said at the hotel. “i mean, yours too.” he said, hoping to jog your memory. “you—you kind of go without saying.” you grinned, your voice soft. “thank you, seunghyun.” unbeknownst to him, seunghyun didn’t need to offer the nudge, because your face warmed in the familiarity of your words. it was a unique feeling: looking at someone whose lips have been on yours, made your skin feel so hot you didn’t think it was physically possible, looked into your eyes with not only a reflection of your desire but mutual want, made you cum without even being there, yet time put a halt in everything. halt? your word choice was curious, eyes staying on seunghyun whilst his returned to the road. your gaze wasn’t heavy, but your thoughts were: if he’d been the one who ran into me after the hotel, or even the first to approach at the mixer after seeing him at coho’s, or maybe he if actually fucking called me, the possibilities hurt you. you looked away, guilt prodding at your pores, mimicking seunghyun’s look out the windshield, who knows where him and i would be right now.

you tried to deter your focus from your stirring chest, “i didn’t think you were capable of being nice.” seunghyun exhaled through his nostrils, “i may be shitty, but i’m not—” “—outright horrible, yeah.” you nodded, finishing his sentence for him. friendly silence filled the car, the only sound being the local radio. seunghyun usually played his cds until they gave out, but those ten minutes driving around the parking lot allotted time for overthinking, leading him to stow his stash away, unsure of what your taste was. but there was only so much he could take of the radio host not knowing how to do his job, or listen to the sixth ad-read in a row. “i hate this.” he muttered, turning the volume nob to the left. you overheard, “it's about time you showed your true character.” you quipped. “huh—” “—i mean, i didn’t think i was that horrible to be around.” “what? no,” he shook his head, a light, slightly confused chuckle leaving his chest. “i meant the music. i can’t stand the radio.”

seunghyun opened the center console, pulling out his cd wallet, handing it to you. “take your pick.” “you mind if i?” you gestured to the dome light. “not at all.” he pressed it for you, illuminating the center console with a warm, slightly-aged yellow hue. it was strong enough to make the words on the cds legible. his catalogue was consistent yet diverse: bill withers, mazzy star, david bowie, biggie, pink floyd, daft punk, usher, and a whole lot of frank sinatra. “your taste is so nuanced,” you carefully took out his copy of mazzy star’s so tonight that i might see, feeding it into the dashboard’s player. “yet you’re so you.” “what does that mean?” he asked, car on the cusp of approaching the exit. “do you need everything explained to you, seunghyun?” you asked, zipping the cd wallet closed. he shrugged his shoulders, “it's only a question.” you caught his eyes for a brief, swift moment. “i like it when you’re normal.”

and that’s what seunghyun was during dinner: normal. talking about anything and everything whilst sat across from you in your shared booth—normal. it made you wonder where the fuck this person was when you initially met, or the week following the hotel room, or even these past two months. the night’s events thus far played like an age-old cautionary tale—you on subtle alert for any signs of him planning to play you like a fiddle. perhaps seunghyun already has, considering he convinced you to come out to applebee’s with him at all, but the apparent loss of his guard tickled your curiosity. it's gonna become a drug if i’m not careful enough, you thought to yourself, taking a bite of your fajita rollup whilst he went on about a movie you mentioned earlier. you weren’t completely relaxed, but your posture wasn’t entirely erect, either. as the evening went on, fight or flight mode faded from your periphery: your elbows relaxed on the table, seunghyun’s back against the wall, his foot propped comfortably atop the cushioned benched-seat. maybe he really meant it when he said he wanted to start anew, you wondered, overhearing him order a brownie sundae to share for dessert, or maybe i’m the most gullible woman in the world. not that i want to leave, though . . .

you split the brownie, scooping a portion of it with the vanilla ice cream it came with. “so you wanna go pro, or?” you asked, eating your bite. a smirk tugged at seunghyun’s lips, “i mean—” it took him a moment to answer, chewing through the gooey chocolate. “it would kind of be a waste of time if i didn’t, right?” he looked up at you, expecting you to agree. you didn’t: “no.” you responded earnestly, shaking your head. “not if you don’t want it to be. you’ll have a degree soon enough. for better or for worse, your only talent won’t be hitting a ball with a racket.” “that’s true.” seunghyun nodded, pushing the plate closer to you. “i don’t think my parents would ever forgive me if i didn’t, though.” “i won’t tell you to disregard that worry,” your spoon sunk into the brownie and ice cream, “because that’s not a luxury people like us can afford. and with that mean serve you have, i wouldn’t wanna waste it, either.” you said, hearing him chuckle. “i know it isn’t easy—trust me, i do. it wasn’t my decision to become the designated family role model that my baby cousins’ll be compared to for the rest of their lives.” you looked up, seeing seunghyun already looking at you. you suddenly deflected, “or maybe i’m just rambling.”

he reassured you immediately. “you’re not.” you pushed the plate back his way, but his eyes didn’t leave you. “it’s not rambling if you’re telling the truth.” you didn’t say anything, stirring the melted ice in your cup with the plastic straw you drank out of all evening. seunghyun finished the last bite of the sundae, a question pestering the back of his mind. it didn’t take long to reach his lips: “do you talk to jiyong about these kind of things?” he muttered, keeping his gaze down at the plate before him, stirring the leftover chocolate drizzle. you put your cup down, senses tingling over the possibilities as where this might go, but halting any brash conclusions before they escaped your subconscious. “do all roads have to lead back to him?” you kept your tone light, a polite grin molding your lips. seunghyun saw you in his periphery, but kept his head down. it might’ve been shame or cowardice—he couldn’t tell the difference anymore. “he’s not—” he licked his lips, finding the words. “he’s not built for things like this.” he saw your face drop. not to one of worry, but one of cold-hearted, targeted disappointment—regret. he felt like a child tattled on; a friend ousted—his pride betraying him in real time.

“why did you ask me to come to dinner with you, seunghyun?” you didn’t spare a glance at the waiter dropping the check off, but your hand shoved the leather folder seunghyun’s way. he kept it cool, opening the folder, eyes skimming the receipt. “i told you,” a characteristic grin coated his face. to you, it was a threat—a dumb one, running your patience thin. “i don’t like eating alone. and i wanted us start fresh—” “no.” you cut him off with a tut, crossing your arms over your chest. “i already told you. don’t do that tired shit around me.” a chill ran down his spine, masking it with the swift pulling of his wallet from the pocket of his jeans, fishing his debit card out. he shrugged his shoulders, “i’m just surprised you’re still together, is all.” you shook your head, “don’t do that, either.” you told him.

he looked up, but not towards you, kissing his teeth quietly. “what is it, hm?” you purposefully pestered, voice-levelled. “is he seeing another girl? i can’t read your fucking mind.” “what? no!” he was genuinely amused, eyes returning to yours. “jiyong? doing that?” he thought aloud, scoffing, clearly entertained by the prospect. “if that happened, thats how i know the world’s gonna end the next day. he doesn’t ever shut the fuck up about you.” irritation fluttered between your eyebrows, but your expression was condescending, knotting seunghyun’s eyebrows together in mounting annoyance. “so that’s what this is.” you nodded to yourself knowingly. you met his eyes, unyielding. “you want to weave your way in and out of my life as you please because you’re upset he got to me before you did.” your fingers stirred your straw. “this is a really complicated way of saying you like me, seunghyun. took you only two months, yet it's somehow more pitiful than those who take it to the grave.” he didn’t look offended. just hurt. wounded, even. you looked away after a moment, eyes trained on your nails. “we could’ve been somewhere really different if you had just called.”

seunghyun didn’t like hearing the truth. his lips tightened, heart pounding with each passing moment. would’ve been better if she was the one who got away instead of what i tossed away, his inner monologue reminded him bitterly, i don’t even know why the fuck i do that. “he doesn’t love you, you know.” he tried to play fire with fire, but you were unrelenting. undeterred—“what makes you think i want someone to be in love with me?” you asked. the question weighed heavily, pressing enough on seunghyun’s chest to prolong his sudden silence. “did i say i was in love with him?” “you didn’t.” he murmured. “so why would i give a fuck if he loved me or not?” to a passerby—like the group of friends being seated a couple booths down—your voice was nothing to be bothered about, blending into the background. your waiter, however, who heard the details of your contentious conversation, strategically scurried off after picking up the bill, processing seunghyun’s payment.

“i guess you wouldn’t.” seunghyun responded. “cool.” you said bluntly. he returned your energy, “cool.” your shared stubborn silence persisted after the waiter returned the leather wallet, now equipped with a receipt to sign, exiting with a quiet “whenever you guys are ready.” after a pregnant moment, seunghyun adjusted his posture, taking the pen, signing the restaurant’s copy of the bill. he slipped his debit card back into his wallet, fleetingly glancing at you, making out a thought stirring in that head of yours. she makes things so fucking complicated, his thoughts grumbled, but i can’t get away. i feel like i’ll die if i do. you kept your gaze on your cup’s rim. you weren’t sure why your subconscious decided to make an enemy out of your logic. your mouth opened before you could stop yourself: “he looked at me like he was in love with me.” your voice barely surpassed the volume of gorillaz on the sound system, but your tone came across so unexpectedly vulnerable. seunghyun heard you loud and clear. he caught on that jiyong didn’t say it—what’d i tell her? motherfucker doesn’t know shit about what to do. barely built for anything real.

you’re good at hiding it, but over time, seunghyun’s become more comfortable with looking into a mirror. if it's you, that is. he sees hurt etched onto your face, though something tells him its deeper than that. no tears, he mentally noted, i know it’d take way more than immaturity to bring her there. seunghyun’s ears perked up when you cleared your throat, effectively bringing yourself back down to earth. he’s getting under my skin, your internal monologue whirred. i need to get out of here before i do something i’ll regret. in this long beat, seunghyun showed himself once again to be someone who was always just one step ahead. not a master at chess, but acquainted with its moving parts. he saw something in you that you couldn’t see yourself, or more aptly, didn’t want to. though you actively used every atom in your body to deny it, you saw yourself in him. could it be the knowing look in either of your eyes—a flicker of your reflection in his irises if you looked long enough? or the unspoken cunning alignment of how you see the world around you? or does he just fucking get it? it not only being you—but what you understand your purpose to be, and him his? a purpose of worth—of understanding? describing it as mere attraction or being with someone on your intellectual level wasn’t enough—it was a complete and utter match, down to the bone. to the atomic makeup. to unspoken words. it was strong enough to scare either of you, but his words prevailed through the heaviness of that beat: “who wouldn’t be?” you looked up, thinking you’d see his shit-eating grin. he was dead serious, his eyes completely sincere.

the ride home was silent. neither you nor seunghyun spoke a word, letting his mazzy star cd fill the air. he pulled into the same parking spot outside of your residential building, putting his car in park. “thank you for dinner.” you said, taking your seatbelt off. “no problem.” he muttered, looking over at you. “s'my treat.” the nicety flowed smoothly, but he was entirely unsure, unable to make out what this lingering tension meant. you provided an answer, though he didn’t like it: “seunghyun?” “hm?” “you can’t ever call me again.” his expression fell into softened worry, eyebrows furrowing sympathetically. “wh—what?” he subtly shook his head, confused. “why?” you looked into his eyes, hurt tainted by shame ruminating in your chest, voice quieter than before: “you know why.” was all you could muster, tone a pitiful attempt at conviction. seunghyun clenched his jaw, trying to salvage the last scraps of his ego, but his eyes looked wounded. his gaze shifted around the windshield, though yours stayed on him. perhaps it was your subconscious attempting to capture this—the last, definitive moment of possibility before the door closed for good.

not if seunghyun had something to say about it, though. or more aptly put, that flicker in his eyes. he turned his head to look at you, leaning over the center console, body effectively closer to yours. you turned your head to face the windshield, effectively away from him. “don’t make me say it.” your voice barely conjured above a whisper, begging as the strength left you expeditiously. the feeling of his body heat zeroing into yours made your eyes flutter closed—the tip of his nose briskly nudging against your temple, your lips parting. his lips ghosted over your skin, traveling down your cheek, not a hint of a kiss in sight, but enough to activate the last few iotas of sense in your brain, keeping your breathing steadied. “m'not gonna tell you what to do.” his voice was low, breath hot against your ear. “you’re smart enough to make your own decisions.” your shoulders relaxed, a shallow breath escaping between your teeth. seunghyun’s lips brushed against your earlobe, “but i will be at the birthdays,” you inhaled deeply through your nostrils, heartbeat quickening. “i’ll smile in your wedding photos,” the smallest, most delicate moan escaped your diaphragm. your hand found seunghyun’s hair, his stifled grunt vibrating against your skin, the flutter of his eyelashes tickling your ear as he tried so fucking desperately to keep himself together. “i’ll k-keep eye contact from across the table at christmas dinner,” your breathy gasps weren’t helping him, “i’ll get you the most expensive gift at your baby shower,” he undid his seatbelt, feeling you so beautifully nudge your nose against his cheek—needing that proximity. he happily gave it to you, pressing a kiss onto the supple skin of your cheek before making his closing argument: “what’re you going to tell him when the baby grows up and looks like me?”

“oh my g-god.” your voice quivered, lips inching dangerously close to his. how you breathed each other in—so unabashedly, so vividly—outdid the sin of adultery; it was in its own league. “what am i supposed to say to my wife when i can’t get it up for her? hm?” he murmured, open mouth hovering above yours. “when the only time i can stomach fucking her is when i’m thinking about you? thinking about the night at the hotel when i was in college, kissing my best friend’s wife like it was the last thing i’ll ever fucking do? hm? tell me, baby. what should i say to her?” his voice was unbelievably gentle, almost tender. he spoke as if you would disappear the millisecond his lips halted their muted ministrations on your skin— as if an improperly pronounced syllable would curse him for eternity. but no punishment was worse than being cast aside as a mere bystander, to jiyong nonetheless. not when seunghyun knew he was the one for you—the one who knew so much in such little time, the one who couldn’t stomach being near you because he felt suffocated in his infatuation turning into deep-seated longing, the only one who could see the look in your eyes. a secret language only you two could speak; colors only you two could see.

“oh my god—” you repeated, your defeated whimper breathing him back to life. you gradually opened your eyes. the look on his face—eyelids heavy, lips parted, eyebrows knitted together pathetically—made your thighs squish together firmer than before. you lifted your hand, fingers brushing past his chin. “i—” your mouth fell, watching him take your thumb between his lips. your teeth found your bottom lip, feeling his warm tongue swirl the pad. you felt something throb between your thighs. you slowly pulled it out, tracing his bottom lip with his saliva. seunghyun pressed a kiss to your palm before leaning in closer. you nearly—nearly closed the gap, until it all felt too real. “stop.” you begged yourself. “s-stop,” you shook your head, tip of your nose brushing against his. “we can't—we can’t do this.” you let go of him. seunghyun remained where he was, his shoulders deflating in defeat, gaze lowering shamefully to his hands.

you looked out the passenger’s seat window, but your body didn’t move an additional centimeter. no thought of unlocking and pulling the door handle open—just sitting in silence. seunghyun didn’t have the strength to ask why. he already knew. the answer was a flight away, settling into bed after unpacking his carry-on, happy to be home for the holidays. your expression soured, disgusting by how deeply internal this conflict became. how could i have let it get this far? how could i have let it get this messy? your mind went a million miles per hour yet concurrently in slow motion. it all felt so useless: you didn’t regret going to dinner with seunghyun, yet although you knew where it could potentially lead, you’re upset you let it get to that point, though you knew full well you were setting yourself up to betray someone you care about—and you wanted to. when did i become so contradictory? you kissed your teeth, shaking your head. i spend so much of my time unpacking other people’s logic. when the fuck did mine become so corrupted?

you huffed, frustration irritating your chest. “you’ve been his best friend for so long, his first memory is probably with you.” seunghyun didn’t look up. you turned your head, expression hardened in his direction. “how could you do this to him?” his head shot up, offended. there’s no fucking way she’s going to get away with this, his inner monologue scrambled. “you’re his girlfriend.” he said without an iota of hesitation, tone doused in conviction. “how could you do this to him?” you scoffed, “don’t act like that’s the same thing. you know each other better than anyone else ever will.” seunghyun was quick to counter, shaking his head. “its on the same fucking playing field.” “no it’s fucking not.” “yes it is.” “no it’s not.” “yes it is.” “no it’s—” “—yes it—” “fine!” you exclaimed, throwing your hands up. “fine! then it is! are you fucking happy now?” you eyed him sharply. you leaned closer, finger poking his chest. “we got the both of us here, seunghyun.” you told him the bare truth. his mouth twitched in and out of a scowl. “any suggestions on what we do now? since you never shut the fuck up?”

you stared at each other, the silence of lifetimes past filling his car. “yeah, that’s what i fucking thought.” you bickered with the air of a decades-old marriage, brushing him off without a second thought. seunghyun was so irritated, he started smiling. “you wanna know something really funny?” he didn’t flinch at your unamused “what?”—eyes meeting yours with matching strength. “jiyong reminds me every fucking chance he gets that he saw you first,” said seunghyun. “but one of these days, i’m gonna remind him you saw me first. because he loves to just conveniently leave that part out.” “you two never grew past the age of seven.” you tsked, shaking your head dismissively. “i don’t know how i got involved with such—” “—who do you pick then, huh?” he cut you off. you gave him a look, “do you only ever hear yourself speak?” you tapped your temple mockingly. “or do you have any room for others?” seunghyun didn’t back down, “who do you pick?” “you know i can’t answer that.” “no, i don’t. because i know it’s me.” “you don’t know that—” “—then why are you still in my car! you could’ve left as soon as i parked!” he exclaimed.

“but you wouldn’t want that, now would you?” you countered. “would’ve fucking defleated—” you stumbled messily on your words. a frustrated exhale left your mouth, finger pointing out the windshield, though in your mind it was a memory. “would’ve looked more like a lost fucking puppy than you did at the elevator, huh?” you pinched the bridge of your nose, momentarily caught off guard by how fiercely your heart beat— feeling it in your throat. “how could i get sucked in like this?” you told yourself off. seunghyun shot a sideways glance your way, brutally annoyed. “i didn’t know who you two were three months ago.” “didn’t take you long to fuck him, though.” seunghyun muttered bitterly. your stomach dropped. “what?” something in your voice made his stomach drop, too. “i never fucked jiyong.” you shook your head, each subtle stretch of your muscle more menacing than before. “what makes you think that?” anger festered between your eyebrows, cinching them together in a way that made seunghyun’s temples perspire. “and what makes you think you can talk to me like that?”

seunghyun shook his head with vigor, denying your rightful allegations like a cowardly motherfucker, existential fear flooding his veins as his life flashed before his eyes. i’m gonna beat jiyong’s ass, he mentally noted. “he—he told me.” he couldn’t bear to look at you, nervous system riddled with shame, his mouth suddenly unable to produce saliva. “well, he—he didn’t explicitly tell me. it's just—it's a thing we do in tennis.” “what the fuck are you talking about right now, seunghyun?” “just—just—” his words clogged his throat. he was a broken record, “he just told me.” “lied.” you corrected, seeing him nod diligently—almost obediently. “he fucking lied to your dumbass.” “he did.” seunghyun concurred without hesitation, still without the gall to look at you. “he did lie to my dumbass.” he repeated. “all of you are the same.” you said. “not one shred—one shred of common sense amongst however many million of you.” you tapped your temple with your pointer finger. “and you’re the ones declaring endless wars, but are so easily duped and bamboozled by cucks comparing dick sizes? and i'm—i’m the one that’s inept? because i fucking bleed once a month? something i didn’t ask for?” you gestured to yourself for emphasis, eyebrows raised. “and god forbid—god forbid!” you exclaimed, putting your hands up dramatically. “god forbid i want my pussy fucking ate instead of—” your brain ran faster than your mouth, but you caught up after a moment. “instead of sucking a dick that smells so rank it could knock the elderly out with the briefs still on—then i become the villain.” you shook your head, “you can’t even tell the difference between fact and fiction, motherfucker.”

seunghyun nearly broke out into prayer. he really needed a cigarette right now. what got him was how you hardly stuttered, coupled with the absence of filler words—you were serious. he can’t imagine what your opponent feels like during a heated debate. “no wonder the nuclear family is dying.” you continued, “we don’t want to populate the world just to raise dumbasses like you. can you fucking blame us?” seunghyun knew to respond: “nope. i can’t.” he didn’t receive your praise for having the correct answer. not that he expected it, nor deserved it. “always talking about how much of a ‘nice guy’ he is. how about you be someone decent instead.” you muttered to yourself, tsking at the thought of jiyong. “all of this just because he chatted me up at a college mixer. i need to stop being so generous with my time.” you noticed how quiet seunghyun was. you weren’t going to let him go easily, “and what if i did have sex with him, hm? not that i did.” you clarified for the nth time, shaking your head condescendingly. you reached across the center console, nudging seunghyun’s forehead with the pad of your pointer finger, “in case it hasn’t processed up here.” you added. when he opened his mouth, you didn’t give him the chance: “is this all because i dated him before you? are you really that immature?”

seunghyun suddenly found the gall, working against an invisible timer: “its—its not!” he blurted out. his hesitation wasn’t to stall his telling of his truth, but his attempt to find the words to spell it out. he wasn’t very successful, “this . . . is different.” he muttered awkwardly. he gradually looked at you, seeing hints of annoyance and frustration decadent in the furrow of your eyebrows—the subtle shake of your head, trying to figure him out like an unsolvable riddle. you looked so beautiful, even when you were irate with him. “it's not—” he took a breath, determined to not succumb to whatever effect you have on him. he looked at you again, unwavering: “look, it's not a crime to want someone. or something.” “but this is different!” you threw his words back at him. you pointed down to the center console, a gesture meant to reference him and yourself. “this is unlike me. i’m a good—i’m a good fucking person.” the conviction in your voice disappeared in the face of the realization that you didn’t believe the words coming out of your mouth. not anymore, at least. “i don't—i don’t . . .” you shook your head, hoping it would clear the deepening fog in your brain—pinpoint you in the logical direction. but it only worsened. a wave of panic washed over you, unable to recognize yourself. you looked at seunghyun, defeated: “i don’t do shit like this. i . . . i mind my own.”

something in seunghyun’s bones told him this was his last chance. that door was actively closing, the creaks of hinges taunting his eardrums. he leaned closer, taking in your features. “i need you to look me in the eyes,” he spoke, “and tell me that it's not me.” a breath parted your lips, looking away from him, pitifully shaking your head. “seunghyun . . .” “then i’ll never bring it up again.” his throat was heavy, maneuvering his head to keep his eyes on you, as if you were fading away from view. “i’ll never bring it up again. i swear.” he repeated truthfully, voice ending with a tremble. he didn’t have the strength to hide it anymore. “you can have the picket fence and shit.” he waved at nothing in front of him, gesturing to the possible future. “live a cookie-cutter life peacefully. maybe he’ll win a couple grand slams and you’ll start a nonprofit under your surname. but i’ll sign your marriage certificate as your witness if you tell me to.” your sinuses weighed on your face. there it was, that tug. “i’ll shut up myself the fuck up if you tell me to. all you have to do is look in my eyes and say the words.”

his heartbeat fastened, eyes looking around him frantically. “look, i—” he licked his lips, grounding himself. “i don’t know what it is about you. actually, i do,” he corrected himself. “i fell for you so hard it's like i discovered a sixth sense. it scared the shit out of me, and i know you feel it too.” you didn’t say anything, only listened. “it blinded me, but it also pissed me the fuck off. because i realized that i’m so prideful that i don’t prevent someone as good as you from slipping through my fingers. not that i deserve you, no,” he shook his head in affirmation to himself. “but it was all so confusing. i’ve never—i’ve never felt this way before. this strongly. so i went up to you at coho's—leading with that frustration,” he tsked at himself, ashamed. “only to find out it was all based on a lie. a stupid one, too. that jiyong ran me amuck for whatever reasons he has. i can’t blame him. i may be a dumbass, but i’m not stupid. there’s things that’re unaddressed between us—parts of how we work. but he’ll never have the balls to say it out loud. and it’s landed us here.” seunghyun took a breath. “and just when i thought it was over, that this was the worst i’ve ever fucked up,” he turned his head, seeing your side profile, chin down. “you texted me. you answered the phone on the first fucking ring.” he watched you close your eyes. “that’s when i realized you and i aren’t so different after all.”

you tilted your head back onto your seat, wanting to disappear. “you’re killing me.” “i’m telling you the whole truth and nothing but.” seunghyun leaned closer, the tip of his nose barely grazing your cheek. “all you have to do is tell me.” his voice fell to a whisper, feeling his body become boneless. it was like you sucked the life out of him, but concurrently nourished his soul. you were his poison. he planned on picking you every time, even if it meant compromising his closest friendship. “look into my eyes and tell me.” you opened your eyes, turning your head to face him. “seunghyun—” “tell me.” if you blinked, you would’ve missed the sight of his bottom lip quivering. he remained strong, maintaining eye contact, blinking harder than before: “tell me and you can walk out of this car. we’ll forget this ever happened.” he said. “so i can finally stop torturing myself with the thought of you,” your lips parted, hand coming up to hold his face without thinking. rationale didn’t exist for seunghyun anymore, either. nothing stopped his kissing your palm, “your name will haunt my daydreams, but not as much as my hand stifling it in my bedroom. i’ll learn to live with it. i promise.” he sounded perishable. “just tell me,” he begged, feeling weaker with every syllable. “and i’ll take it to the grave.”

you watched him kiss down to the inner part of your wrist, resting his lips against your skin. your other hand found his hair, but your touch didn’t invite him in. instead, it served as a buffer leading into the question he knew he’d be faced with at some point, yet his posture deflated at the mere utterance: “why didn’t you call me, seunghyun?” you weren’t mad nor disappointed. like seunghyun, whatever was in the air sucked the energy out of you—making you just as desperate as him. it was poetic, how beautiful you sounded. how intimate your tone was, speaking to seunghyun like he was the only person in the entire universe. like your words were only for him to hear, despite already being alone in his car. he murmured into your wrist, “i’m so in love with you i don’t remember what it feels like to have common sense.” his breath shuddered at the feeling of your fingers combing his hair back. afraid to lift his head to look at you, he leaned into your touch, hiding his face. his words warmed your veins, trickling into your heart, obliterating what you thought you knew about love. there’s only so much a college senior could know. but as you sat there, watching your man so unequivocally devoted to you that he can’t bear the courage to look at you, you had all the answers you needed. you ushered seunghyun to you, feeling him melt into your chest.

you held each other: his arms making residence around your waist, breathing tempered against your hoodie. your shared unspoken language filled the gaps—manifesting in his eyes fluttering closed at the feeling of your nails gently raking against his scalp, you deep in thought, feeling his chest rise and fall with yours. “he’s not someone i can respect.” you confessed. seunghyun knew who you were talking about. “i should’ve left him after the pepperdine match.” you tutted at yourself. “is it because he nearly lost it for us?” seunghyun asked meekly. “no,” you answered. “it's because his insecurity clogged his logic. you should’ve seen the tantrum he threw in the car. you’re cut from the same cloth.” “we can be different.” “barely.” you held seunghyun closer, feeling his arms wrap more snuggly around you. your fingers roamed his hair, feeling the vibrations of his content hum against you. “you wanna know something?” you spoke by his ear. “mm?” he murmured. “at some point, i was so sick of it, i used his face to cum to the thought of you.”

his breath hitched. “it was the same night i texted you.” “oh my god.” he groaned into your hoodie, hands pawing at your waist. he felt something throb between his thighs, jeans feeling increasingly uncomfortable. “look at me.” you said. he listened, lifting his head from your chest. your palms molded around his jaw, pressing firmly to keep him in your grasp. seunghyun’s eyelids didn’t look heavy, but they held weight. if you listened carefully, you caught his shallow breaths—lips parted, eyes glancing at your mouth unabashedly. your teeth raked against your bottom lip, having to separate your thighs to alleviate some of the conjuring heat. “love me so bad you don’t know how to spell your name, hm?” you felt and heard him shudder, watching him measly attempt at getting himself together. “i forget it if i’m with you long enough.” he answered breathily. he leaned in, but you didn’t give him what you wanted just yet—letting his open mouth hover greedily above yours. a defeated gasp filled his lungs, “please.” he whimpered, forehead finding yours, eyebrows furrowed upward. “i don’t recognize myself. i’m going crazy 'cause of you, baby.” his nose grazed your cheek. you tipped your head back slightly, feeling his lips ghost over your neck. he inhaled your scent, encouraged by your hands on the back of his head. “the part that gets me is that i like it,” he said, pressing a light kiss. he heard your small gasp, kissing again, “oh my god—i fucking need it.”

“you got what you wanted—f-fuck—” he whimpered at your faltering voice, an added air of desperation intertwined in his gentle ministrations. “you got what you wanted.” you repeated, eyes rolling to the back of your head, feeling his lips find your soft jawline, cascading your double chin. “you’re under m-my skin. ruining every thought i’ve ever had.” you let your back fall against the door. seunghyun fought the urge to climb over the center console. “you were—” you swallowed, throat dry. your mind felt fuzzy, somehow grasping your words, “you were right when you said jiyong has no idea what he’s doing.” seunghyun grunted in response, completely lost in you. “do you? hm? i’m so tired of being wrong, seunghyun. i’ve been waiting too long—” “—get the fuck over here.” he grabbed your face with either of his hands, bringing his lips to yours.

neither of you breathed. time stood still. you remembered where you were when his lips caught yours again. once you regained consciousness, back in your own body, goosebumps mostly subsided—everything was on the table. deep exhales cascaded either of your faces, a moan escaping your mouth into his, fingers rifling through his hair until your palm settled on the back of his neck, deepening the kiss. your eyebrows furrowed in concentration as the realization of what you were doing sunk in. what it meant was beside you. oh—but how good it felt? nothing could have prepared seunghyun for the sound rattling out of your throat next. it was guttural, but divine. it came from the soul. how does he know? because he made it right back: his fingers pawed at your hoodie, subconsciously needing to melt into you; to be one with you until the end of time—kissing you like he was the woman. you held him to you with an arm around the back of his shoulders, other hand holding his cheek, silently encouraging him to tilt his head to the left. he listened without hesitation. seunghyun ignored how the gear stick actively dug into his waist, exhaling heavily through his nostrils when your tongue met his. his breath hitched, shuddering vulnerably against you feeling your hand reach underneath the hem of his jacket and shirt, rubbing his lower back tenderly. he kissed you with more fervor than before—i need to get on my knees, his thoughts were scrambled. i need to get on my—

“i need you.” you told him, vibrations of your voice against his mouth making his mind all mushy. “i need you, seunghyun.” you repeated breathily—the heat between your thighs unbearable. “f-fuck—n-need—” he couldn’t stop kissing you, body feeling boneless. “n-need—i need you, too. wanna make you feel good.” he winced when his crotch brushed past his side of the center console. he was painfully hard—afraid of what it’ll look like once he took his pants off. “go in the back.” he said. “i-i’ll meet you there.” his awkward word choice wasn’t at the forefront of his mind. he was too focused on maintaining his balance once his feet hit the asphalt—“s-shit"—keeping a hand on the car, opening the door for you. "lay down. get—get comfortable f'me.” you heard him say whilst you climbed in. you laid on your back as comfortably as you could, careful not to bump your head on the closed door behind you.

his palms traced your thick thighs, the denim tickling his fingers. “can i take these off? yeah?” “mhm,” you watched his fingers unbutton your jeans, lifting your hips as he tugged them off your legs. your underwear followed, both tossed onto the car floor. he fell to his knees at the sight of your puffy pussy. his palms made residence on your bare inner thighs, lovingly kneading their plushness between his fingers—his teeth not sparing his bottom lip. he sunk the tip of his nose into the softest part of your thigh, pressing a purposeful kiss. his nostrils caught the scent of your divineness—it took every singular ounce of common sense in his body not to immediately falter to it. he couldn’t open his eyes, trusting his senses to lead him to where he knows he belongs. “been waiting for this for far too long.” his breath was hot against you. your hand muffled your mouth, eyes rolling in the intoxicating anticipation. his thumbs separated your lips, his warm tongue making itself known. “o-oh my god!” you gasped. your breathing stilled, hearing the lewd sound of his tongue lapping your hole. with every swipe, he came closer to your clit. and he knew it: “oh,” his voice was low. “you taste real fucking good. holy shit.” seunghyun palmed himself through his jeans, whimpering into your pussy. “f-fuck!—” “—ha—a!” you cried out. your hand grabbed onto the shoulder of the driver’s seat, trying not to fall over, nails digging into the synthetic leather.

seunghyun stopped. he licked his lips, not satisfied in the slightest. “show me where your clit is, baby,” he said. “don’t wanna waste your time.” you held onto the driver’s seat firmly, other hand grabbing one of the headrests in the backseat, gradually pulling yourself up. “wanna watch.” you breathed. your back laid against the door behind you, foot propped on the center console, your other ankle resting comfortably atop the backseat. the new view dizzied seunghyun, his mouth watering at the sight of your cellulite recoiling in the midst of you adjusting your posture to your needs. “i’ve been waiting for this, too. f-fuck . . . ” he watched the tip of your middle finger disappear between your puffy lips, slowly inching towards the top. he knew you found his homeland when your shoulders relaxed, licking his lips whilst yours parted, entering a state of bliss. your lids were heavy, opening your eyes as best you could, feeling his nose find what’s becoming his favorite part of your inner thigh, lips pressing a slow kiss on the soft pouch. he heard your frail whimper as your finger continued rubbing in circles, relishing in the sound of how wet you became right by his ear.

“you play with it real good.” he said, teeth pressing into his bottom lip. “yeah? f-fuck—” “—yeah, you do. you play with it real fucking good.” he praised. he grinded his hips into the seat, feeling light-headed. “c'mere.” he got to work—you froze. your eyes glossed over, toes curling around nothing. it was a sight meant to be engraved on an ancient marble vase, capturing the rawest form of pleasure, harbored in a museum for eternity—historians marvel at its teachings, whilst female spectators walk away with a bitter air of “must be nice.” “o—oh my god, h-holy shit—” you mewled, mouth unable to close. you looked down, fingers combing his hair back, seeing his tongue nurse your clit in real time. “k-keep going.” your voice couldn’t surpass a whisper. “keep s—sucking just like that.” you thought you knew what you were asking for with how jiyong does it, but seunghyun actually sucked on your clit, your hips bucked up unexpectedly. “o—oh f-fuck!” you yelped, breathing heavily.

seunghyun latched back on, palms kneading the sides of your big thighs, using them to maintain his grip on you. he sucked more firmly before popping off. his mouth felt a slight chill every time he separated from your clit, his lips glistening. “you deserve this twenty-four fucking seven.” he murmured, slowing his pace. the vibrations of his satisfied hum made your eyebrows furrow so deep they turned upward, bottom lip caught between your teeth. “need to make this shit my full-time job—goddamn.” he flattened his tongue, moaning when you shoved his face deeper into your cunt. “then act like it,” you told him. a long exhale left your nostrils, feeling and hearing him whimper, “e-eat it like you mean it, seunghyun.” oh, did he listen. your eyes rolled back, head snapping up when the knot in your abdomen made itself known. “th—that’s so f-fucking good. . .” you watched him worship your pussy, drawing your syllables out. “o-oh my god, b-baby—m'close.” you gasped, unable to look away when his tongue lapped you faster. “y-yes! y—yes, yes—f-fuck! s-seunghyun—o—oh!” you cried out unabashedly. your eyes closed, head tipping back. don’t need to imagine him when he’s finally here, your inner monologue reminded you, bringing you over the edge. “d-dont—don’t stop! don’t stop! o—oh, f-fuck—!” you panted erratically, ascending into your high. back arching off the door. your chest heaved in tandem with guttural moans ringing from your diaphragm, giving seunghyun everything he’s dreamt about.

your temples pounded, senses clearing when his lips found your soft jawline. “still with me?” he asked gently. “mhm,” you hummed weakly, slowly turning your head towards him, his lips pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “just give me a second.” you heard him hum in understanding. his lips hovered the supple skin of your cheeks, planting them wherever he saw fit, patiently kissing you back to life. you inhaled deeply through your nostrils, hands traveling up his jacket on the exhale, fingers tugging at the zipper. your hand slipped underneath his shirt, riding up his chest—your touch was sensual, yes, but none more than tender; grounding. a silent plea for proximity, earned with a trusting kiss to your lips. seunghyun moved to your neck, placing slow yet purposefully kisses into your skin, savoring the moment. “how was i, hm?” your voice was soft, breathing leveled. “everything you hoped for?” you chuckled, seunghyun feeling your cheek bunch up against his temple whilst you grinned. “you’re not a person.” his voice was muffled against you. “you’re god herself.” you chuckled again—the sweet sound making his heart stutter: “oh, really?” you smiled, flustered. “then god’s asking if you have a condom.”

“i do—” seunghyun sat up quickly, forgetting his upper half was in his car, bumping his head against the ceiling. “shit!” he cursed under his breath. “slow down.” you giggled, even more beautiful when amused. “m'not going anywhere, y'know.” “i think i have some in here.” he carefully stepped out of the car, opening the passenger’s seat door. pulling his glove compartment open, he rifled through, but to no avail. “c'mon . . ” he tutted to himself, kissing his teeth. he reached into his pocket, pulling out his wallet, spotting the familiar silver wrapper, “oh thank fucking god.” he muttered in relief. “now that just makes you a whore.” you couldn’t hide your smile, failing to stifle your laughter. your eyes lingered on seunghyun as he undid his belt, unbuttoning his jeans before pulling them and his briefs down far enough to free his cock. oh . . . you liked what you saw . . . your leg slipped from the top of the backseat, thighs pressing together without thinking. seunghyun sucked in a sharp breath, thumb collecting his building precum, slicking his cock with it. “i’m a whore for being prepared?” he asked, fingers carefully unwrapping the condom, gradually slipping it on. a grin tugged at your lips, eyes staying on him as he climbed back into the car. his hand wrapped around your right ankle, gently lifting your leg, returning it to its previous position atop the backseat. you scooted down to lay on your back, welcoming him to you, hands on either side of his face, “you’re a whore for having it with your dollar bills.” you playfully tutted, feeling him laugh into the kiss.

he positioned his tip between your soft, puffy lips. his nose nudged yours sweetly, silently beckoning your mouth to his. you obliged without hesitation. this kiss was romantic—soft, sensual. “you better tell me if something’s wrong.” he muttered, voice low. “i will,” you reassured, gently reconnecting the kiss, “i will.” seunghyun slowly pushed his tip in, stomach dropping hearing you wince. “e-everything okay?” his voice quivered, back of his mind percolating with sudden realization. “yeah.” you nodded truthfully, “need to adjust. just go slow.” “i will, baby. i will.” seunghyun leaned down, kissing your cheek dotingly. his lips stayed there, however, because he started to panic. because the more he pushed his cock in—slowly—the more enveloped he was by your tight, gummy walls; the more he was blessed with your divine warmth—and the more he felt closer.

your cute, small gasps weren’t helping. universe save him whenever he overheard your delicate whisper of his name, summoning him like a prayer. he stretched you out gorgeously, giving you something you didn’t know you needed, but it made all the more sense that he was the one who did it for you. “a—any better?” his voice quivered, trying to remain steady. “yeah,” you said breathily, nodding. “jus’ go slow.” you licked your lips, mind fuzzy, “i’ll tell you when to go fast.” i’m not gonna make it, his inner monologue panicked. but seunghyun listened, gradually pulling out, only leaving his tip in. his heavy panting tipped you off, seeing his glossy eyes. “you’re not all here with me, baby.” your caring, doting tone dripped off his ears like honey, making his head spin. oh god— “take a breath for me, seunghyun—” “—f-fuck!”

he had that supreme-court-just-gave-florida-to-bush look on his face. you kept your laughter in, thankfully. “that's—that’s never happened to me before.” seunghyun’s words slurred slightly, pulling out, seeing the now ruined condom. “i think you need to reckon with the fact that you have a really big crush on me.” you chuckled, hiding your face behind your hands. you heard his sneakers skid against the pavement of the parking lot, his hand reaching underneath to take off the condom, tossing it onto the asphalt. “it’ll take a second to wake it back up.” “think you need some help?” “y-yeah. if you don’t mind.” “c'mere, pretty boy.” you called him over softly. he didn’t need to be told twice, “i’ll show you something, hm?” your lips found one another’s like two souls reuniting after centuries apart. there was no rush. you kissed him slowly and deeply, gifting him your tongue when his breathing didn’t sound shallow anymore. sighs of content escaped his nostrils, washing over your cheeks, cascading goosebumps down your spine. your hand reached down, stroking his cock as best you could in your current position. seunghyun received it well, kissing you harder—but not faster—making you moan beautifully against his mouth.

your lips parted from his, the sound of his slick reaching either of your ears. “this is what jiyong and i were doing the night you finally called me.” seunghyun gasped—“a—agh!” he moaned, eyebrows furrowing tightly. “he wasn’t lucky enough to eat my pussy.” your tone was smooth, satisfied with hearing his abrupt, fragmented breaths beside your ear. “well, not yet, anyway. but you already know how that turned out.” you giggled. seunghyun let out his most vulnerable moan yet, face hidden in your hoodie. “you’re nearly there, but not quite. might need a little more.” you spoke sincerely, hand halting your ministrations, “can you stand up for me?” “out—” his voice quivered, “outside of the car?” “outside of the car, baby.” you affirmed. you sat up when he rested his hands on the car, scooting down the backseat, closer to him. a small smirk tugged at the corners of your mouth, amused by the sight of his semi-hard cock. your soft palms traced his toned stomach underneath his shirt, hearing him quickly suck in a breath.

one hand cascaded down, your fingers wrapping around the base of his cock. “didn’t even know i have one that good.” you murmured to yourself, bringing his tip to your lips, running your tongue over his slit. “fuck,” he cursed sharply, nails digging into the roof of his car. he watched your tongue swirl around his tip, eyebrows raising like he’d been caught when you looked up at him, only for his knees to buckle once you started taking him into your mouth—all the while not breaking eye contact. you gradually took half of him into your mouth. not that he was fucking complaining, holy shit—he’s too busy trying not to clear his blurring vision. you were riling him the fuck up—“f-feels so fucking good—ngh!” seunghyun whimpered. he gasped, the vibrations of your chuckle whilst he was still in your fucking mouth catching him horrendously off guard, wincing sinfully. you sucked him off how you wanted to—not wanting to stress your jaw, work your neck, stress your cheeks or anything, really. there didn’t seem to be any issue, however, considering how putty he was after barely a touch. you pumped his tip, sound of his slick so fucking lewd, yet how unbothered you looked by it made seunghyun ready to become a father then and there. he was at your mercy—your complete helm. i could get used to this . . .

“you’re basically there.” “whhaa—” his words slurred, trying to regain his composure. “do you want a little more?” “y-yes.” he stuttered, nodding quickly. “your mouth. p-please—y-yes!” he sounded fragile, deep voice cracking vulnerably. you hollowed your cheeks around him, sucking just enough to make him forget to breathe. seunghyun was unequivocally enraptured by you. sure, he might’ve had some semblance of an idea of what this night might—just might be like . . . but this? man . . . he meant it when he said he would take his feelings to the grave if that was what you wanted. he meant every fucking word he said, actually. and to know—though his intuition never lies, and after tonight, he knows yours doesn’t either—that he is yours as much as you are his . . . take that to the fucking bank, motherfucker, his inner monologue rambled, breathing shallow. he was hard as fuck yet again in spite of his earlier flub. he watched you take him into your mouth however you so pleased, eyes fluttering closed at the feeling of your tongue swirling around his tip—head falling back when your cheeks hollowed around him graciously. his jeans fell to his ankles, hand covering his mouth, eyes almost crossing—and to know her bare pussy’s just rubbing against the seat—

without thinking, he pushed his hips forward. you didn’t hesitate, taking him out of your mouth: “absolutely not.” “wh—what?” he was momentarily confused, soon realizing. “did i say you could?” you tutted, squeezing your fingers firmly around the base of his cock. “n-no! you—y-you didn’t!” he shook his head, eyebrows furrowing. “m'sorr—m'sorry, baby. f-fuck—holy f-fuck, i’m sorry.” his breathing deepened, whimpering. you felt his dick throb in your hand, “i'm—i-i’m hard again. let me make it up to you. let me fuck you—fuck you good. i promise—” he rambled, but you cut him off. a chill ran down his spine. he swore his dick twitched, “you better have another condom, seunghyun.” “i-i do.” he nodded, pulling his jeans up enough to retrieve his wallet, taking another silver wrapper out. he put the condom on, hovering over you a few moments later. “i’m sorry—” “—just fuck me, seunghyun.” you held his face, fingers falling to the collar of his shirt, tugging aimlessly whilst you felt him position himself, “fuck me so i forget how much you hurt me.” his face fell to one of hurt, beautifully melting into one of inexplicable pleasure, mimicking yours as he filled you up. he wasted absolutely no time—giving you what you deserve.

you mewled with every thrust, descending into guttural moans every time his balls plopped against the bottom of your ass. “f-fuck, yes!” you gasped. “oh, f-fuck—baby—” you bit your bottom lip, seeing his dick disappear and reappear in real time—stretching you out delectably. your thick thighs recoild with every movement, hugging his waist the best you could in your position. “your dick feels so fucking good.” you whimpered, tugging at his shirt. “just like that, just like that—hngh!” you inhaled sharply, feeling him hit all the areas you needed most. seunghyun was a babbling, incoherent mess: “i l-love it when you tell me what to do.” he panted. “i love it—f-fuck! holy fuck!—” you clenched around him, halting his thrusts temporarily. “f—fuck, baby—” he drew out his syllables pathetically, moving his hips slowly, gradually fucking you again. your hand reached aimlessly behind you, pads of your fingers turning white against the window for any sort of possible grip, your body jolting forward with every thrust. “i love it when you p-put me in my place, baby.” he buried his face into your neck, the sound of your moans intoxicating his self-control. “i want—mmph!—i want my place to b-be you.”

your puffy lips were having a field day, rammed repeatedly by his toned pelvis. “you’re so good at fucking me, you know that?” you breathed heavily. “i don’t think—mmf! hngh! oh, fuck! y-yeah—oh, yes! like that!” your eyes rolled back, hearing how creamy the condom sounded, pounded deliciously. “i don’t think i could get used to this from anybody else.” you told him, mouth falling from how fragile his moan that followed sounded. “so you better get up in there,” your voice quivered. “'cause no one’s gonna be able to fuck me like you do.” seunghyun went faster, earning the most beautiful moan out of you. “y-yes!” you squeaked, legs feeling like jelly. “like t-that m-my love, like that!” “y-you’re gonna be the death of me, baby.” he whimpered, drawing out his syllables, panting like a motherfucker. “i don’t know who i was b-before i met you. i’m gonna—gonna spend the rest of my f-fucking life m-making it up to you. you hear me—o-oh, fuck—” he steadily halted his pace, thrusting hard, catching his breath. “i’m so s-sorry for not calling. i’m so sorry for hurting you,” he sounded on the brink of tears, lips seeking refuge on your temple. “i don’t know what i was thinking—” “just fuck me like it never happened, okay?” your chest heaved, feeling the knot tug at your abdomen, begging for release. “you already know me so well so quick, seunghyun.”

either of your whorish moans battled it out for the top spot, feeling him pummel your pussy mercilessly. “are you—are you close, seunghyunnie?” oh my fucking god, his inner monologue panicked. “y-yes—” “—yeah? m'close too.” you bit your bottom lip, thighs about to give out in your lustful haze.“you know how i like it!” you cried aloud, gummy walls clenching around him, feeling that familiar euphoric wave take over your entire body. “you know just how i l-like it, seunghyunnie!” he gasped, watching your back arch, your face succumbing to the ethereal force of the orgasm he had the privilege of giving you. watching you cum made him cum—“i’ll keep going, baby! i’ll k-keep—f-fuck!” the condom warmed inside of you, chock-full of what you do to him. seunghyun’s stomach caved inward, moans nearly choking his throat, gasping for air whilst goosebumps erupted underneath his sleeves. you were in your own realm—hand having fallen to the floor, temples pounding viciously. it didn’t take long for seunghyun to find you—as he always did—returning his head to your chest, eyelids heavy as your fingers found his sweaty hair. he rested in your divineness, seeking refuge in a way that's tender—familiar, now. you held onto him, afraid he’d slip away; perish. on the floor of the passenger’s seat, your phone vibrated: Hi baby :) Hope ur exam went ok, jiyong texted. he stared at his next message on his screen, sending it five minutes later, just as seunghyun pulled out of you: I love you.

honey's taglist ☕️: @gongyoosgf @infinetlyforgotten @riddlerloveb0t @mesopotamism @pepsicolapussi @breakmeoff @thanosspills @moontabi @tabibabib @lexalith @lavenderobsessed @heartubeatusalon

[commandershepardvasfuckit]

An Arranged Marriage, part 29

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21 | Part 22 | Part 23 | Part 24 | Part 25 | Part 26 | Part 27 | Part 28

1.6k words

Zen was back to being Zen, though the affection shared between the two of you was often tinged with frustration from him.

(I am feral over my own character, ask box is always open for talking about my writing or just monster fucking in general!)

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You sat next to Zen by the hearth and marveled at his hand while he wrote. Every movement so precise as he penned his letter to his family.

“Making sure I am not leaving anything out?” Zen teased you.

As far as you could tell his handwriting was very tidy, each character perfectly aligned and spaced out evenly. You could not read a word of it but were still enjoying watching him.

“I can’t believe how delicate you are with only three fingers” you said.

“Only three? I cannot understand how you can do anything without your extra fingers getting in the way.”

“No! Five is a good amount to have! Three isn’t enough.”

“I did not hear any complaints about my hand and fingers when I had one in you.”

You buried your face into the side of his arm and he leaned over a bit to nuzzle the top of your head.

“How long will it take for the letter to get there?” you asked.

“It will depend on who I can find to take it. There are some minotaur hunting groups that travel close to my village that I could send it with, but that would probably take weeks. And there are fisherman from my village who sail down this way sometimes to sell anything extra they catch, that is a more direct way to get the letter home, but they only dock here sporadically.”

“And when did you want to go visit?”

“Next month. There is quite an important festival then. Though we may actually get there before the letter then, which would not be ideal” he let out a deep sigh, “I will figure this out, somehow.”

Days flew by much the same way they had for the past week. Zen snuggled up against you whenever he could, lots of your free time spent lounging together while you each did your own thing. It was comfortable.

He made no attempt to initiate anything more than cuddling. His hands lingered on you in the bath, little sighs and whimpers as you felt him half hard against your back, though he often had a nervous and frustrated air about him. You would turn to press the side of your face to his chest and hug on to him, the affection always seeming to settle him down.

Often you caught him looking at you with almost a sad expression, sick of waiting and too worried to start again.

It was still early in the day. Zen was off at the hold, going over supply manifests and trying to figure out how to get what little supplies where scrounged out to the more remote settlements.

Slowly you started helping with the house work more and more. Back at home you never had to do anything, but here it was just you and Zen. You were sweeping up the entryway, Zen did his best to not track dirt in but being that trolls did not wear shoes meant that some always got in anyways.

Usually he would come in and wipe off his feet. Bringing in a bucket of fresh water from the well outside with him and cleaning off with a clean washcloth from the stash of them he kept by the door. Still, dirt or mucky footprints made it in the house and you had taken up the responsibility of dealing with that since Zen really did everything else.

There was a loud knock on the door as you were finishing wiping up a footprint that startled you. You were fairly certain Bira was out of town and you normally did not have other visitors.

Slowly you cracked open the door and were surprised to find Ba’tual looking fairly agitated.

“Oh, what are you-” was all you managed before he cut you off.

“There’s some human at the hold demanding to talk to you right now. He’s refusing to tell Zen or anyone else what it’s about or leave” he told you.

“Did he say his name?”

“Probably, but I wasn’t called in until Zen asked me to come get you, so I don’t know who he is.”

“Yeah, ok, yeah I’ll meet you guys at the hold then. Just let me actually get dressed” you said has you tried to piece it all together and figure out who could be demanding to speak to you.

“Zen specifically told me to escort you there, he doesn’t want you walking alone.”

Ba’tual waited outside while you got dressed and kept a close eye on you as the two of you made your way to the hold. It was a tense walk all the way there, Ba’tual did not seem to have any answers for you besides there was a human there making a scene and demanding to talk to you.

Zen looked visibly agitated when the two of you got to the hold. He was pacing the room with a annoyed expression on his face, nearly a snarl until he saw you. Immediately his expression softened and he rush over to you, placing a large hand on the back of your head as he crouched down to be eye level with you and nuzzled your forehead.

“Hey, what’s going on?” you asked as you nuzzled him back.

“Him” Zen nearly spat.

You peered around Zen to see a human man standing at the edge of the room dressed in your kingdom’s navy uniform. You recognized the man, a petty officer who served under your father and unfortunately someone you knew besides just that.

“What are you doing here?” you asked as the man approached.

“Call off your attack dogs” he sneered and motioned to both Zen and Ba’tual, “I’m here to take you home. And what are you wearing?”

You looked to Zen and Ba’tual who were both hovering close to you, “I can handle him, just give me a little space?”

Neither seemed to like this, but both took a few steps back.

You looked down at your outfit, it was pretty typical clothing for here. A knee length skirt tied around your hips and simple halter top style shirt, both in a soft forest green.

“Home? I am home. And this is perfectly normal for here” you defended.

“It is not suitable or appropriate for a lady of your status to be dressed like that, a poor representation of your family. Not that it matters, we’re leaving now.”

“No” you said firmly, “This is my home, my husband is here. This is where I belong.”

“Husband? That absolute beast? This charade has gone on long enough and served its purpose. Big things are in the works so it’s time to leave. Now.” he took a step towards you and went to grab your wrist.

It always amazed you how fast Zen could move, immediately he was between you and the other man.

“She already told you she was not going with you. You would do well to mind that” Zen’s voice uncharacteristically cold.

The man peered around Zen, “You’re making a massive mistake, this isn’t where you belong.”

“No I think it is” you said.

“Ba” called Zen, “Escort him back to his ship.”

Ba’tual gave him a nodded. Zen stopped him as he passed, placing a hand on his shoulder and telling him something in troll. Ba’tual motioned to several of the guards and they made their way out of the hold.

“You spoke as though you knew him” Zen said.

“Yeah, a while I told you my family promised me to the son of another family if he could make a name for himself in the navy. Well, that was him.”

“He does not seem like a good person. I do not like that an arranged marriage could have stuck you with someone like that.”

“I know, and you don’t have to like it. But it’s how it is where I’m from and it’s not wrong, it’s just different. Plus, we’re in an arranged marriage and it turned out good, didn’t it?”

“That’s different” he muttered.

“How so? Because both of us were told we were getting married and that was that.”

“I believe I am a better person than him.”

“And you are, that’s for sure. But I didn’t know that when I got here. I met a man who was grumpy, didn’t speak to me at all when getting married, left me home alone for hours, and then snapped at me for things I did know.”

“And I have apologized and done better” he interjected.

“You have, but it doesn’t change the fact you were a stranger to me and I didn’t get a good first impression of you, and everything still turned out well” you tugged him back down to your level to nuzzle him and give him a kiss on the cheek, “And what did you tell Ba’tual?”

“To make sure our visitor goes straight back to his ship, no detours, and to take a few guards to sweep the city for anyone who should not be here.”

“Do you think that was really necessary?”

“You did not see how he was talking and acting before you got here. I do not trust him. I am not taking any chances with keeping you safe. I failed in that once, I will not make the same mistakes again.”

--------

Part 30

Tag list

@blushycadaver @mochalyluv @hazyspacefairy @littlelovebug98 @tufflepuff23 @lets-imagineastory @emonatural191 @after-laughter-come-tears @plathsotherib @krayziee @zaqnette @graveblanketgreen @lovingbadguys @nogoatsnoglori @bunnibabylilly @selfindulgenthoe @dij-ology

(As per usual, mobile loves to mess with the tag list 😭 sorry if your tag didn’t work! I’ll fix it later when I’m home and on my pc!)

[gay-dorito-dust]

Jason with an Author!S/O and he worships the ground they walk on. he’s almost always begging to read drafts and small pieces, regardless of the content. he treats his copies of his partner’s publications like just the smallest trouble will destroy them. and if his partner writes about him? sappy love poetry about HIM?? he might as well die again, this time happily.

(the creative writing major brain is going bonkers.)

I’ve left this on the back burner for far too long, sorry about that and I just wanted to add on the stuff you’ve already said with things of my own cuz I like this idea so much!

Jason w/ an author!s/o who must add a character of his likeness and personality into almost every book they’ve ever made but changes his name to keep people from catching on. Jason however noticed this and gets a little flustered at the fact that he has been inserted into everything you had ever written, but he’s flattered too as he’s teasing you about how great this character you made up sounded from time to time.

Jason w/ an author!s/o who asks him for advice on how the story should continue and where certain characters should be by the end of it. Jason is more than happy to help you with the new novel however he could, which often leads into you both stayed up late brainstorming ideas until you got the one that suited your story just right.

Jason w/ an author!s/o who leaves heartfelt and personal messages inside of Jason’s own copies of your published works just to see him smile and smother your face in kisses out of pure happiness. He loves them dearly but refuses to touch them now in fear of bending and or ripping the cover by accident.

Jason w/ an author!s/o who often writes about him in your spare time and in the most romantic of settings too that it was enough to have Jason blushing up to the tips of his ears. He keeps them tucked in a box somewhere to read to himself later on while you slept peacefully against his chest. He loves these mini stories you’ve created for him more than anything and felt blessed that you even went out of your way to do something as sweet as this.

Jason w/ an author!s/o where you always have him in either your acknowledgments or dedications of each of your books, siting him as your inspiration and your motivation to keep writing when you felt like giving up because you punctuated a sentence wrong. Jason has never felt more appreciated in his entire life when you do this for him as he felt as though he had died (again) and went to heaven.

Jason w/ an author!s/o who thinks that your writing style can’t compare to the authors that Jason has read before and feels a little insecure about your own writing, thinking that it’s bad, but Jason will always pick you back up by saying he loves your method of writing stories as it allows him to escape reality for a while and that’s all he needs for a story to be good. That and he had an unhealthy bias towards you and Jane Austen. He won’t read anything else unless it’s by your hand. He vows this but you think he’s being dramatic. (He’s not, he’s very much not.)

[tata-is-the-name]

A bounty in Exchange | Togame Jo

Characters: Togame Jo x small!fem!reader 

Summary: Just Togame and his habit of offering help---in this fic, it's about him opening your own food for you. Just like how he did for Choji back in the manga and anime. Hehehe. Also, just you being ordered around by Choji to get him what he wanted. He's spoiled by you and Togame.

A/N: I TOLD Y'ALL I STILL HAVE MORE JO FICS IN THE WORKS 😫 I'm sorry. I know it's another long one but I can't help it. Hehehe. 

Warnings: Fluff! Nothing but fluffy and a thoughtful Togame. Just like how he is right now. Hehehe. 

LIKES, COMMENTS AND REBLOGS SURELY MAKES ME SMILE! Don't be shy to leave a comment if you want. Hehehe. Send an ask if you want to be tagged for the future writing content! I write for JJK and WBK right now

Words: 3.1k+

Tags (Windbreaker): @xylov @calculust-prime (Please do tell me if you don't want to be included in the tags anymore)

Disclaimer: Please do not repost this on any other media sites. I only have Wattpad and Tumblr for all of my fics.

You had a habit of not opening your snacks when you're in the middle of talking to someone, nor do you immediately tear off a junk food or any type of food that requires its packet to be ripped off when you're...distracted.

Hence, you were thankful to someone, a special loved one whom was always there to cater to your needs, twenty four by seven. No matter if the stakes are on your favor and he knew you do not need any help.

Togame Jo was always there, no matter what happens; no matter if you weren't beckoning him for help, Jo was there through thick or thin.

"And then? what happened next, Choji?" you've added, sincerely. Utmost curious as to what he was on about since the moment you arrived at Shishitoren's turf.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜

It wasn't even a minute before you made an appearance inside their territory, Tomiyama Choji was already running like a man on a mission, as if he was in a highway. He'd jumped down the wooden platform inside Ori. Their turf which was of an abandoned theatre, their outside walls covered in graffiti. You would awfully find it eerie at night when there wasn't a lot of people around.

"Tiny-chaaaan!" Choji spoke out loud, hearing the screech of the theatre doors open,  a squeak or two as it may seem like it was on the verge of rust and dust already. 

Just making an appearance inside the abandoned theatre had the wavy beige haired boy jump off the middle of the stage, his mouth wide to greet you with a grin and a cheeky glint in his eyes, confirming that he was about to start teasing you about a certain someone whom you were devoted and fond of. 

"I have Kame-chan as hostage! I know you're here for him!"

As busy as to having his hands full of his favorite thirst quencher, Jo was rummaging inside the huge ice box that Shishitoren had, filled with a wide variety of Ramune that he had obviously suggested and offered  that no member could send a riposte. Each member contributing to the beverage, lending their penny for the drink that everyone could have if they wanted to. 

Not that they didn't have a choice.

From the moment Togame Jo has heard his name, out of his gradual curiosity; his interest at peak when Tomiyama has called out of nowhere. His chest was feeling heavy with the fullness of bearing such warmth and devotion. 

He'd turned his heel away from both people who he was already being blinded by their own shine, continuing what he was previously doing. 

You and Choji were the sun to his storm; the yin to his yang and the summer to his frigid winter.

Despite of how unwinded and relaxed he appeared to be, Togame was utmost eager to grab onto his favorite flavor of Ramune, never forgetting yours. Grabbing along the way was that one set of Taiyaki with a set of random flavors he bought from a stall that he was loyal to, visiting the store when he was craving for such a sweet delicacy.

He promised you that. Hence, you're expected to receive it as much as you desired.

Jo has insisted to deliver it straight to your doorstep. You were not one to turn down his offer when it would be less of a hassle for you. However, he was not sleek enough to skip the part where he said that they had to do some errands around town later.

You genuinely offered him not to waste his time and energy when you could technically just visit him.

Which explains why Choji was running up to you so fast. 

"Where's the bounty, Tiny-chan?!" Choji had whined, his brows furrowed and eyes turned into slits. Definitely judging how you have brought nothing but yourself. Only your presence. Skipping from side to side, he'd eyed and tried to discover everything around you, hoping that you were having what you both had negotiated. 

"Bounty? hm?" Jo slurred from behind Choji, strutting with his wooden sandals that echoed around the theatre with earpiercing 'clangs'. There were two Ramunes in his one hand, different flavors, while the other held onto the handle of a neat, paper bag.

You couldn't help but keep your smiles subdued when Choji greatly huffed, his initial thoughts filled with the idea that you had forgotten what he called you for on the phone without letting Togame know about it at all.

Tomiyama raised his arms in a 'T'. Becoming a physically tiny, but mentally huge barrier between you and Togame. Choji kept grouching with a sneer.

Jo raised both of his brows, definitely wondering what he was on about.

"Choji," he dragged, sounding like a calm nag that only he could do. "---what bounty are you talking about?"

Tomiyama have ignored his rebukes, reaching out his palm towards you, four of his fingers showing the come hither, suggesting that particular bounty he was asking you for.

"No bounty," the short boy emphasized, "---NO KAME-CHAN."

Togame sighed through his friend's antics, another scold languidly coming through. Never understanding him, yet getting the gist of his purpose now for asking such, "Choji."

"He's my boyfriend, is he not?" you egged on Choji, biting your lip together to not laugh. Earning a grouse from the short guy. Choji couldn't help but begin to stomp his feet on the floor, knowing damn well you were all in all, correct. His shit fit echoing in the whole abandoned theatre. 

"I know! I know! Eergh!" pause. He stomped again. Twice. Thrice. Your inner thoughts entertaining your day by seeing such a leader acting...all...fussy. Tomiyama Choji, a strong fighter throwing a hissy fit for simply not giving him such a plain gift that he have asked you as a favor or for an exchange of an extra special prize he knew you would not reject. "Don't outsmart me now with facts! you're cheating!"

You couldn't help but spilled some tee-hee's out loud.

"You always egg me on! I'm Kame-chan's best friend! Why do you always do this to me!" Tomiyama grouched like a child never given his lollipop.

His goal instantly switched from you to Togame, planning to file a complaint towards your lover who had that soft, smile on his face.

"Kame-chan! Make your girlfriend stop!"

Togame couldn't help but run his complaints over his handsome, shaggy head, lazily slurring his words again, "Yeah, yeah, you'll live, Choji. Aren't you already used to this by now?" pause. "Now, stop with that bounty you're talkin' bout. Did you actually made her run some errands while coming here?"

He was concerned for what Choji has asked you a favor for, definitely not liking the idea that you probably had to go to the dodgy side of the town just to get what he wanted. He was blinking away his concerns, looking towards his friend who was still whining nonstop.

"This is just between me and her!" Choji retorted. "Don't meddle with our negotiations!"

Togame couldn't help but emit a small sigh, slow blinks coming through as a subtle smile pulled the ends of his lips as he watched you both, consecutively skipping glances between you and Choji.

Technically, he was an outcast in this bargain of yours that you had with his best friend. An outcast or rather...the hostage?

"Come on! You're no fair, Tiny-Chan!" Choji bellyached his discontent.

"Are you sure you're Shishitoren's leader? I'm having second doubts now." you teased him a bit, a hint of teasing lighting up your eyes again in which Jo had quietly remained eye-contact with you beneath those sunrise colored glasses he had. His small smile growing bigger, painting his mouth that you were unaware about as you were thoroughly distracted by Tomiyama's noise.

He was just appreciating how you were getting along with Tomiyama. The conversations and bonding you both had were always amicable.

You grabbed the regular sized milk tea from your back pocket, the effort of searching for this certain one just to give Choji what he wanted was an effort that you would want to flick this boy's ear for.

"There." you grabbed his wrist, placing the adorable, regular-sized brown sugar milk tea on his palm, sighing with a raised brow, thinking you had to go all the way just to see Jo. Yet, here you are, giving their leader some of his favorites that he constantly bugs you with. "I literally had to find that specific one because everyone around's just not selling any sweet drinks today, Choji!"

You sighed a big one, over reacting the second sigh a lot more to express your feigned exasperation, grabbing more of what he wanted outta' your pocket, "Oh, and your Dagashi."

"Now, am I allowed to spend time with a certain turtle now?"

Choji smiled a bigger one, smirking and giggling once he received the goods, starting to circle around you in hops that made you remember the game as if you were the monkey in the middle.

"Yay! Yay! Yay! Thank you!"

Togame Jo's distinctive, low, silvery tone stated, trying to give voice to what he has always noticed since the day both you and his best friend were introduced to each other. "You spoil him a whole lot,"

"Don't act like you don't too," you've simply responded back with a raise of a brow, a sweet smile plastered across your face. Eyes probably even sparkling for him when you've noticed he had been gazing over your face with mushy, soft eyes. Accompanied by a candied smile that made you ask yourself how did you get lucky in life to deserve him. 

Choji clapped through his overjoyed self, jumping in circles in which Togame had used this opportunity to grab him by the collar of his jacket, pulling him from behind once he was at Togame's reach. "Oi, oi! Kame-Chaaaann!~"

"Choji,"

Jo had playfully huffed, low enough for you to see him heavily blink away what he was feeling about Choji's constant demands, "Don't you think..." his words crawled on that emotion he was feeling that exact time, not reading between his leisure paced sentences and behavior. "...You demand too much from her every time she visits now?"

Choji tried to get out of his strong hold around his jacket, ceasing himself from appreciating your effort in answer towards his wants, "Don't get jealous now, Kame-chan! Are you jealous? are you?!"

Togame had nonchalantly shrugged the question off with a lazy stare and a smile that wasn't distinguishable enough. "Do I look like it?"

"You do." an awkward pause happened. "There's no need to get jealous. I'm not her boyfriend. Right?" Tomiyama continued his sentence with a huff when Jo had let go of his jacket, making Tomiyama stumble over a theatre chair which earned Togame an upset look from the guy.

"It's not that I'm..." Togame dragged his words, his lazy slurs going round circles. He did not finish his sentence, breaking his thought process before he could even blurt it out loud. "---She just might get caught into trouble in this town. That's it. You know how it is here."

"Alright." Choji mustered to come up with an answer, agreeing to what he said but not believing the first part of it, having no idea why he felt like it wasn't believable. 

Choji was set on, hard-headed as he could and sneaked beside you to pull you by the wrist, taking Togame with him as if he had something important to talk about.

"Now, come and sit with us! I'm excited to tell you what happened today before you arrived!"

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜

"And then? what happened next, Choji?"

"Kame-chan lost to one of the best players in the onsen this morning!"

You blinked twice, expressing your surprise while Choji ran his mouth on your left. The three of you sitting beside each other, you being in the middle of the two. Earning Togame a glance from you as he lounged beside, nonchalantly listening to the both of your conversation just as how he always did.

Jo was basically the one who always listens quietly, letting the other person yap their hearts out despite of how overwhelming it may seem to others.

He was just that guy.

He was just too considerate and sweet to take interest about what the people had in store for him; the people whom he was definitely fond of.

"It was only this time." Togame drawled, a blueberry Ramune on his right hand, "I won last week. I might win on another rematch this Friday."

You glanced beside your Togame whose eyes quickly shift to you, "I'll hold you onto that. You're a pro at playing Go and Shogi." your eyes sparked like there were glitters in your eyes, a smile sneaking in before it tightened from how your heart was trying not to take leaps, never getting used to how you were down bad for this man. "But, you should take it easy on the oldies, Togame. You know how fond they are of you. This is no time for your revenge arc."

"Hm? have I gone deaf?" as low as he could speak, gravelly and smooth, Jo hummed, his voice vibrating off his chest and he lolled further onto his chair, leaning in quite in a proximity that made your heart skip a beat. His sunglasses lowering even further as he leaned; his eyes taking all the trembling Virescent light that Togame's eyes could offer.

"Am I hearing you right, Tiny-chan?" he playfully mocked, his sunglasses lowered till his alar.  He went on, his eyes still on you, never leaving.

"Togame? we back on the surname basis again? hm?"

You were hasty to look away, turning your head towards Choji who sat on his chair, knees tucked together on the seat he was in, gnawing on his Dagashi while he innocently watched you both have a moment that most intimate partners do.

Choji didn't mind it at all though. He was already used to you both. Besides, it was nothing bad to the eyes of another.

"Tomiyama, what are you looking at?"

Tomiyama grinned wide, expressing his small ha-ha's and began to poke fun with how you were acting. "You blush so much whenever you're with Kame-chan!"

"And?! what about it?!" you shrieked, failing to even defend yourself because you were already caught like a deer in red lights. "There's no need to say it out loud then!"

A flushed crimson bloomed across your cheeks, the giddiness rising up your face. Sprite movements vaulted you from rising up your feet. Howbeit, Jo was quicker than you thought. With him knowing you were about to scram and take the other seat away from him. With a deft motion of his hand reaching out the back of your clothing, he'd pull you down back your seat. His words assertive and much more of a command. 

"Sit back down." he'd stated point blank, worth to be hypnotized for; worth to be put in a trance. "...and stay with me. Okay?"

Hence, you kept your mouth shut at that and behaved well too.

You heard Togame emit a chuckle beside, succeeding in watching you both in silence again as Choji and you were creating noise and echoes around Ori. One that Togame would not dream of not hearing it anymore.

Jo had noticed the unopened bottle of pineapple Ramune sat inside the cup-holder, he listened to his intuitive thoughts; his behavior or habits that he has always been used to when he was around you. Jo placed his inside the cup-holder of his chair, grabbing your Ramune, using his thumb to poke the ball down and open the drink for you.

He smiled to himself, his hand sneaking beside to give you your opened drink, ushering you to take it when you had snapped your head in question to see him smiling softly with his eyes turning crescent shapes.

"Here you go again with opening drinks for me, Jo. You know I can do it myself, there's no need to." The light in his green eyes remained unchanging; unfaltering despite of your protest for his need to do these simple things that you can do yourself.

"But, I want to. Are you going to hold me accountable for that?" he insisted, sounding like a deadpan, not taking no for an answer. He lightly pushed the opened Ramune towards you again, ushering you to just take it. He rolled his eyes, feigning his act of annoyance, "Can you just take it? it's making my arm numb now, Tiny-chan."

You sighed, not wanting to start an argument and just agreeing to what makes him feel better. "Why do you always do this..." you mumbled to yourself, squinting your eyes right back at him and his soft smile just continued on when Togame Jo knew you were mentally and emotionally giving him the right hand, raising the white flag.

"Fine. Fine. You win. I'm not going to complain about it anymore."

Thinking he was done offering you his simple gestures of showing his affection, you were incorrect. Togame have opened the paper bag he had for you. This sweet gift that you were craving since the moment you woke up. Jo has given you a chocolate flavored Taiyaki, offering it like a peace-offering for doing the bare-minimum. 

This was just a glimpse of what he could do for you. 

"Weren't you excited to eat this?" he leaned his head to the side, calmly asking and baiting you to take it, handing you a piece, the fish shaped afters between his fingers. With a wide grin, all toothy and eager. You nodded repeatedly, about to reach out for the dessert that Jo had for you.

"Can we share, please?"

This man who had a big stomach, agreed to what you wanted. He nodded and broke the bread in half, offering you the other with a smile, eyes entirely shaped in crescents, "Of course. There's no need to ask me twice."

Until, Choji had to break the conversation.

"Is nobody really going to ask me if I want one?"

His eyes lowered to a judgmental stare. Questioning you both his existence, wondering if he was really just an electric post on the side or a pest in a plague.

"You should cut that into three, Kame-chan." he deadpanned, his high-pitched tone losing joy and probably just poking fun with you both.

"I'm also starving."

THIS JEALOUS FIC I HAVE IN THE WORKS...WILL PROBABLY HAVE 2 PARTS 😫 I'm just on the first half and it's already 4k+ words. 😫😭😹 I think I'll be the only one reading this so it's fine and I'll just do everything I want. 😹

SEND AN ASK IF YOU WANNA TALK OR BE MOOTS!

[capacle]

Drawing stars on sticky notes?

What do you get when you combine Progress Clocks, Aspects, Usage Dice, and Insight Rolls?

If you answered “an unholy mess”, well, that’d have been my guess too if someone asked me that. But that didn’t stop me from doing it anyway. And, surprisingly, instead of creating an abomination that shouldn’t see the light of the day, it became the core mechanic of my newest game, one that I’m giddily excited about.

I want to dive deeper into this quirky little mechanic called Sparks, that involves drawing stars on sticky notes. In essence, it is a tool to track progress of any kind. Towards a goal, an event, an effect, whatever. But in a closer look… well, it is more than that.

Escaping the temple

Let’s say you grab an ancient idol from a cursed temple, triggering a self-destruction spell. You need to escape before the temple collapses and traps you inside. You’d grab a sticky note, write “The Temple Collapses,” and place it on the table. Your Spark is now created.

To advance the Spark, you’d add rays to the star when certain fictional or mechanical triggers occur. For example, if you spend too much time in a room while trying to escape, you might add a ray to represent the passage of time. Or say you try to place a heavy rock in place of the idol to stop the spell, and you roll a bad Fate Check (the equivalent of a Yes/No Oracle or a Fortune Roll in other games), you’d add a ray to the Spark. A particularly bad roll (e.g., a 1) might even add two rays.

Up until this point, you might be thinking, “Well, this is just a Progress Clock.” But here’s the fun twist: every time you advance the Spark, you may perform a Spark Check by rolling a D6. If the roll matches a ray on the star, the event happens, and the Spark resolves.

For instance, if you’ve added two rays to your Spark and roll a 1 or 2, the temple collapses. If you don’t hit a ray, the temple holds, and you can keep pushing to escape. This creates what I like to call “controlled unpredictability”. You get a sense of the odds of the event happening, but you can’t predict exactly when it will occur.

If you continue advancing the Spark—for example, by getting lost or failing additional rolls—the likelihood of disaster increases as you add more rays. Let’s say you roll again with four rays and hit a ray. The temple collapses, trapping you. The Spark resolves, and now you must deal with the consequences.

But that’s not all! Let’s say you miss all previous checks and end up filling all five rays of a Spark. Well, you still have to make a Spark Check. But since the Spark has only 5 rays and the die has 6 sides, rolling a 6 after the star is full results in an Overturn.

An Overturn flips the expected outcome. If the event was negative (e.g., the temple collapses), it might turn positive: the collapsing ground reveals a hidden network of ancient tunnels filled with mysterious symbols. What was almost a certain disaster opens up as a new path your adventure can take!

SIDE NOTE: I get it that using stars as a tally marker may not be the most intuitive graphical solution. I honestly chose it to meet the vibes of the game, and give it an air of mysticism, like it is more than just a counter. But I encourage you to use any form of tracking you prefer: tally marks, tokens, numbers, checking boxes and so on.

Flexible and modular

I hope that by now you can see this is more than a tool to count up to 5. If you follow me for a while, you know that I’ve toyed with the same idea in Derelict Delvers with Danger Clocks. In that game, they are restricted to represent monsters and obstacles. In Everspark, they can do all sorts of things.

You can use Sparks to track challenges, such as overcoming obstacles (including combat); the arrival of looming threats; the depletion of meaningful resources; contests between parties vying for the same goal; long-term projects like crafting, studying, or achieving a personal milestone; and conditions affecting characters, enemies, or environments.

Sparks can also track events like a lunar eclipse, the arrival of a king; the use of special power sources like mana or magical items with limited charges. They’re useful for tracking character advancement (including multiclassing), exploration (like a full journey or delving into a dungeon), or even montage scenes where you tackle complex challenges like making plans, setting camp, or preparing for a journey.

You can even create layered challenges to represent more complex or powerful enemies. Say you are fighting an enormous creature, and you want it to be a high-stakes and dramatic encounter. Instead of relying on “HP inflation” and just make, say, a 3-star Spark, you can represent different aspects of the challenge with separate Sparks, like a Spark representing an Arcane Shield that needs to be dealt with before harming it, and another one for its Spiked Tail that causes all sorts of trouble for melee attacks.

Instead of turning the combat in a boring meat grind, you have to approach the encounter as a puzzle. Different characters with unique skill sets can contribute, and the whole scene becomes more dynamic. You can even have environmental Sparks representing dangers or potential opportunities.

And the best thing is: you don’t need to prep that in advance. Crafting Sparks is part of the game. And I encourage you to do it as a collaborative process, if you’re playing in a group. We have a lot of fun brainstorming possible things we can add to a scene to make it even more memorable.

Spark-based scenarios

Picture this: you’re deciding who gets to be the next captain of the ship. It starts with a skill contest. It’s two candidates—you against them—and you are displaying skills to decide who’s going to be the captain. You have a resource Spark, which is the crew support. You can tap into it to gain leverage, but it can go either way—perhaps the crew support goes to your adversary, making it a double-edged resource.

You have to resolve this contest before the serpent god arrives (a threat) and, who knows, eats the loser of the contest. All the while, you’re dealing with the storm of the century (environment), which is battering the ship and tossing the crew around. On top of that, the ship is leaking (escalation)—because why not?

This can be a full session of chaos, crazy ideas, and unpredictable outcomes, with new Sparks being created as a result of complications and bad rolls. Others might be discarded as the situation evolves. It’s a wild, chaotic, and incredibly fun experience.

On top of that, you can bend the rules with “Spark tricks,” which are ways in which you twist and bend the rules of how to advance and resolve Sparks. These include locked rays (which can’t be hit), regenerating rays (that are erased), linked Sparks (where one Spark affects others), resistance (making two spark checks and keeping the worse result), and persistent Sparks (which remain active even after being resolved).

You get a sticky note! And you get a sticky note!

These are just a few ideas. It’s important to note that Sparks are modular, optional and disposable. They can be used for almost anything, but they shouldn’t be used for everything. You can handwave situations, roleplay them, or use just a few rolls to resolve them. But if you want more granularity, want to zoom into the action, or want to give more screen time to certain moments, Sparks can certainly help. And when a Spark is no longer relevant, you can simply discard it, even without resolving it.

It’s amazing all the things you can do with a simple piece of paper

My advice is that you introduce Sparks gradually into your gameplay—the book itself divides Sparks into Basic, Intermediate and Advanced. In my home game, we’re seventeen sessions in, and since all players are already comfortable with the mechanics, it is beautiful to see the proliferation of Sparks: characters are working on new skills, getting rid of curses, and trying to find lost relatives. The city has a creature about to arrive, a gang following them around, and more. All that tracked with Sparks.

Just think of nachos

When I was coming up with a checklist of the things you have to consider when creating a Spark, I had a pleasant surprise. See, you need to create the Name of whatever you’re tracking; decide how and when it Advances; when you need to make a Spark Check; what happens when you Hit a ray, what is a possible Overturn; and if there are any Special rules or conditions.

Hence, the NACHOS template was born.

Obviously, you don’t need to write every detail down for every Spark (or for most Sparks, really), but it is a good way to make sure everyone knows how the Spark behaves and to align expectations. If you want to play around with how a Spark works, just think of Nachos.

Hack it away

I’m super excited to get this in everyone’s hands and see what creative people can do with it by bending its rules and applications. I see it as a tool to inject a layer of tension, suspense and surprise to what could otherwise be just a tally count.

I’m working hard on editing Everspark at the moment (meanwhile, the campaign is on late pledge, so you can jump in if you want). It’s coming out nicely, I must say. The Sparks chapter has nearly 20 different suggested ways of using them, all with examples. And more nuance than I can fit on a post.

I’ve also published a video explaining this concept in even more detail:

Meanwhile, check out the campaign page and join us to keep the Everspark alive! And I’d sincerely appreciate it if you shared this around with people that might like it.

[amethystarachnid]

LITTLE STAR

⤷ STEVE G. ROGERS

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Pairing: Steve G. Rogers x fem!reader

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Genre: angsty (ok, a lot of angst) romance and tiny bit of fluff

ᯓᡣ𐭩 AU: Steve is born in the 21st century and isn't a superhero, basically the world is like ours

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Story type: one shot

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Word count: 4.1 K

ᯓᡣ𐭩 TW(s): talks of death, domestic abuse, deadbeat father, a lot of angst, I know nothing about football so incorrect football things.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Request: Hi! | have a request for a story for Steve Rogers x female character. The genre would be romance but it would be very angsty/sad but with a happy ending. (the request is longer but if I write it here it'll spoil the story)

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Comment if you want to be added to the taglist (specify if you want the everything taglist or for a specific character)

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Songs & Superheroes tales — The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

Seven years ago

“48…49…50! I’ll find you, Y/N!” Steve says as he turns around from the tree he was facing, his eyes scanning the small park, trying to find where you were hiding. You have always been good at this game, but he was always better.

“Found you!” Steve says as he sees you crunching down in the little house on the slide.

“How can you always find me?!” You sigh and sit down on the dirty wood of the Colorful House,that’s how you both called it even though with the years it had lost most of its color, leaving only some red and some blue here and there.

“I already checked your other favorite places, so the Colorful house was the only place left.” Steve explains proudly as he sits down next to you.

“Next time I’ll be the one counting and I’ll find you in less than five seconds!” You pout, but the smile comes back on your face when a certain thought crosses your mind, “Are you excited to start middle school, Stevie?”

The boy shrugs his shoulders, “it’s just school.”

“No it isn’t! It’s the big kids’ school!” You were excited, like really excited. You, who usually hate school, haven't stopped talking about middle school since the start of summer break. You have already bought all the supplies you needed and more.

“It will all be the same, study, more study and study even more!” Steve sighs, you give him a playful nudge with your elbow.

“You say that only because you’ll have less time to play football.” Football has always been Steve’s sport, he liked and he was damn good at it.

“Maybe.” Steve gave you a small smile.

Three years later

“Stevie? What’s this?” You ask, confused, as you look at the big truck in front of Steve’s house, two men are putting boxes in it.

Steve flinches when hearing his name, he didn’t want her to see this, “Y/N! I can…can explain…”

“Are you moving out? Without telling me?” Your voice is barely a whisper as you look up at your best friend, he has gotten taller over the years and his first muscles started to show thanks to his football training.

“No! I mean yes but-“ Steve sighs and takes a deep breath, “Remember my dream school?”

“Of course.” How could you forget? He always talks about it, it’s a private high school in San Francisco that’s literally connected – for lack of better terms – with a college there. Basically, after you finish high school you already have a seat ready for you in the college, which is one of the best in the country.

“Well, I got offered a sports scholarship to go there!” Steve sounds so happy about that, are you a bad friend because you aren't happy for him? Are you selfish? Probably yes, because the only thing that you can think about right now is how he’s going to leave you alone.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You can barely hear yourself now. Did he think that you would try and make him stay? Well…That’s what you want to do, but you don't want to be a shitty friend, you don't want Steve to abandon his dream for you. Because that’s the thing in your friendship: if you were to ask Steve to not go to San Francisco he would drop everything and stay with you.

“I wanted to tell you, really but…I didn’t know how to tell you without upsetting you.”

Translation: if you were upset you’d ask me to stay, I’d stay because I hate seeing you upset, but I don’t want to stay because this is my dream.

“I am upset, no point in lying, it’s just…I would’ve told you if I were in your place.” You sit down on the porch of Steve’s house.

“I know, I’m sorry…” Steve sits down next to you and, as always, you can’t bring yourself to stay mad at him.

“I already forgave you,” You smile softly as you shrug your shoulders, “so, when do you have to leave?”

“The day after tomorrow.” Now it’s Steve’s voice that’s a mere whisper. The day after tomorrow? And when was he planning on telling me? When he was already on the plane? God knows how much you want to tell him all your thoughts, but you have only a few hours left to spend together and you don't want to spend them fighting on not talking to each other.

“Then why are we sitting here?” You ask, standing up and holding out your hand towards your best friend, “Let’s spend as much time as we can together!”

Steve smiles up at you and grabs your hand, pulling himself up, “I like your plan.”

During the next day you two did everything you could think of: you skated together, had a sleepover, you even made bracelets for each other – the one Steve made for you said ‘Little star’ because that’s how he liked to call you, while the bracelet you made for him said ‘Stevie’.

“But will you come back during the holidays?” You ask, Steve stands next to his father’s car, Steve’s mom will drive her son and husband to the airport: Steve’s dad will stay with him for a few weeks until he’s gotten used to San Francisco, then Steve will move in his dorm at the school and his dad will come back.

“I promise.” Steve smiles down at you and throws his arms around your waist while you hug his neck, “take care, little star.”

“You too, Stevie, I’ll miss you.” You kiss his cheek and blink back the tears, you don’t want to cry right now, one of your last memories with Steve won’t be a sad one.

“I’ll miss you too.” And with that, Steve enters the car, before he could do something stupid like kissing you. Once in the car, though, he sees how sad you looked and he sighs, fuck it. He gets out of the car and hugs you again.

“I’ll miss you, Y/N, but I don’t want to leave with regrets.” Before you can ask him what he means he presses his lips on yours. It’s just a quick peck, an innocent kiss between thirteen years old, but you feel your heart explode. “I’ll become the best football player ever, I’ll make money and then we’ll go live together on a mountain, like you always wanted…Just, wait for me.”

You smile up at him and nod, “I’ll wait for you.”

Present day

Steve didn’t hold his promise. It was always his parents going to San Francisco for the holidays and never him coming back to Brooklyn. For three years you didn’t hear from each other, it may seem a short time for people that knew each other since birth but a lot can change in three years, even more than Steve ever thought was possible.

He gets out of the car, parking it in front of his childhood house: he was back in Brooklyn for his last year of high school.

“Y/N changed her house a lot.” He says towards his parents as he looks towards what used to be your childhood home, now a different color and without the front porch.

“Oh no, they don’t live there anymore.” His mom explains, “after Y/N’s mom died they moved into an apartment on the other side of the city.”

“What?” Steve feels like a cold water bucket has just been thrown over his head, “Y/N’s mom died?” She was young and healthy though.

“Yes, two years ago, she had a heart attack, Y/N asked us to not tell you.”

“Why?” His mom shrugs her shoulders, then puts a hand on Steve’s shoulder with a soft smile.

“It hasn’t been easy for her, but from what I know she goes to the same school you’ll go from tomorrow, try and talk to her.” She squeezes his shoulder, “You’re her best friend after all, aren’t you?”

Am I? Steve thinks, I wasn’t by her side when her mom died, I haven’t seen in three years…Are we really more than strangers?

“Why are they all staring at me?” Steve asks Bucky, one of his childhood friends, as they walk in the hallways of Brooklyn’s high school.

“Because you’re the handsome new guy.” Bucky explains as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“But I’m not actually new, I’m sure I went to middle school with at least fifteen people in this hallway.”

“But you’re not the same Steve Rogers that left three years ago, you look like a fucking closet man.” Bucky chuckles, but it’s the truth, Steve had gotten taller and very muscular in only three years.

“I guess you’re right.” Steve can’t help the smirk forming on his lips, he reaches his locker, before he can open it though he notices a girl standing on the locker next to his. That girl is you, but he recognizes you only after you close your locker. You look the same as three years ago and another completely different person at the same time. Obviously you are older, and that shows on your features, and you are even more beautiful than the last time he saw you.

“Y/N!” He says with a bright smile on his face, your eyes widen when you recognize him but quickly you look down and walk away, completely ignoring him.

“Don’t mind her, she hasn’t been the same since her mom died.” Bucky explains, “she doesn’t speak to anyone, is always late to school and never has money for lunch, I buy it for her sometimes but I’m not even sure if she actually eats it.”

“What happened to her?” Steve whispers as he looks at you entering your next class, which, coincidentally, is the one he has next too. He walks in the class and smiles when he sees that the seat next to you is free.

“Y/N, it’s me, Steve.” He says as he sits next to you. You could ignore him, look away, hell, even change seat, but hearing his voice so close after three years made your heart swell and clench at the same time. What is he doing here? You couldn’t help but ask yourself that, shouldn’t he be doing his last year in San Francisco? Did he change his mind?

“Yeah, I know, I’ve heard the whispers, everyone’s talking about you.” You shrug your shoulders, acting like the only thing you want to do isn’t throw yourself in his arms and feel some comfort for the first time in years.

“It’s the first time we see each other in three years and that’s the first thing you say to me?”

“And who’s fault is that?”

“Listen, I’m sorry for never coming back in Brooklyn during the last years but I’m here now can’t we just-”

“Class’s starting." You interrupt him and point at the teacher who just walked in the classroom. Steve scoffs but turns his attention to the teacher.

After a while he hands you a piece of paper with ‘you know I don’t give up easily’ written on it.

Soon you feel like you have another shadow, a shadow that’s taller and bigger than you. Steve follows you everywhere he can and he’s always trying to make you open up, trying to bring your friendship back.

“Are you going to follow me home too?” You snap at Steve when the last bell rings.

“Do you want me to? I haven't seen your new house yet.” He says, putting his backpack on one shoulder.

“And you never will.” You answer harshly, showing him the small and dirty apartment where you lived would be too embarrassing.

Steve shrugs your answer off, “You’re lucky I have practice today.” He’s on the school football team and they couldn’t be happier.

“Why did you come back from San Francisco?” You can’t help but ask, why would someone ever leave that place?

“Had a fight with a boy who was harassing a girl, turns out it was the principal’s son.” Steve shakes his head, “immediate expulsion.”

Why did his answer hurt? Were you hoping he’d say something like ‘I missed you’? How stupid of you, he didn’t even call in three years. You nod and turn away, walking towards your house. The same house that was barely a home, more like a prison. It wasn’t the outside of the building the problem, and not even the small apartment itself, the problem was the man who lived with you. Your father, at least, who he should be. To you, ever since your mother’s death, it felt like living with a stranger.

“Dad, I’m home.” You shout as you open the door to the apartment on the second floor. Silence. Silence is the only thing that you can hear, and you couldn’t be happier: silence means that he isn’t at home, which also means he’s probably out drinking and will come back in the evening highly drunk. But that will be a problem for future you, for now you lay on your bed, doing your homework. You even take a small nap.

Your small time in paradise ends as you’re cooking dinner and the door opens. Your dad walks inside, crawling his feet on the ground, with an empty bottle of beer in his hand.

“Oh, you’re cooking, I see you’ve learned your lesson.” At his words your mind flies to the bruise on your stomach, but you quickly shake your head.

“Yeah, I’m cooking some soup.” You close your eyes, breaching yourself for the storm that is about to come.

“Soup? You know I hate soup!” He says as he starts getting angry, which definitely isn’t a good thing.

“I noticed that soup was the only thing we had when it was too late to go to the store.” You admit, already feeling the pain of the hit when he didn’t even hit you, yet.

“Useless as always!” He shouts and throws the empty glass bottle of beer at your legs. You damn yourself in your mind for deciding to wear shorts when you feel the glass against your bare legs, leaving cuts behind. You don’t dare to flinch or even make a little sound, though, knowing that it would only make him more mad.

“I’m sorry…” You whisper as you place two plates of soup on the table, “I’ll go grocery shopping tomorrow.”

“You better, I’m not eating this shit.” Your father throws his plate with soup on the ground, breaking it in tiny little pieces. He’s worse than a toddler. You get up from your chair and start cleaning immediately, knowing that if you didn’t he would only get worse. You ignore the pain from the fresh cuts on your legs and pick the ceramic shatters from the ground, the soup on the ground wetting your slippers.

“I can’t cook anything else for you though…” You whisper, not even scared anymore, simply resigned and used to it.

You know that he could misunderstand every word you say.

You know he could hit you anytime.

You know you don’t have a choice but endure it till you’re done with high school.

You know you have to wait another nine months for that.

“You stupid bitch! Your mom would have never done this!” Your heart clenches at his words. How dare he talk about her, when he was the cause of her death?

“Don’t talk about her, you can’t.” You glare at him as you stand up, throwing the ceramic shatters you had just collected on the ground again.

“I can’t? And why can’t I?” He walks towards you, his big frame making you feel small and vulnerable, but not in a good way.

“You killed her!” You shout at him, tears starting to blur your vision, but you blink them back: you won’t cry in front of him. It’s basically telling him that you’re scared.

And you would never admit that.

“It wasn’t me who killed her, it was you! You killed your own mother!” You know that he’s trying to manipulate and gaslight you, but at the same time you have heard that sentence so much that you were starting to believe it.

Maybe if you were a better daughter she would still be alive.

Maybe if you were more independent she would still be with you.

Maybe. Maybe. Maybe.

Maybe your mother is happier now. Wherever she is now she doesn’t have to look after an incompetent man who can’t even cook for himself, she doesn’t have to stay up until sunrise to make sure he doesn’t come to your room when drunk.

Maybe it’s for her best that she’s dead now.

“NO! You killed her because she was always so busy looking after you that she barely had time to look after herself, she never had the time to even do a check up!” You shout at him, tears rolling down your cheeks freely. “She died because you wouldn’t even pick up your own nose from the ground-” You let out a banshee-level scream as you feel the ceramic sink into your shoulder.

He stabbed you with a piece of ceramic from the plate.

Your father.

Your daddy, the same man who played princess tea party with you when you were four. The same man who checked under your bed for monsters every night for years.

You almost laugh when you realize you can’t remember any happy memories with your dad after your tenth birthday.

Two weeks later.

Luckily, the nurses believed you when you told them that you were taking a plate from a high shelf and it fell and broke on your shoulder. Steve, on the other hand…

“Tell me what happened.” Steve says as he sits next to you inside the Colorful House in the park.

“You follow me outside of school too, now?” You say annoyed.

“This was your favorite place to hide when we were kids, I see it didn’t change.” There’s a sad smile on his face, then he turns to you, “I don’t believe that a plate fell on you, tell me the truth.”

“It is the truth.” You roll your eyes, he sighs and his eyes fall on your wrist.

“You aren’t wearing your bracelet anymore.” He notices for the first time, you hide your wrist with your other hand.

“It broke.” My dad broke it. “You aren’t wearing it either.”

“I was worried it would break so I transformed it into a necklace.” He pulls down the collar of his shirt, revealing the letters that you used to make his bracelet, ‘Stevie’.

“Oh.” It’s the only thing you can say as you try to ignore the feeling of butterflies in your stomach. Neither of you has spoken about what happened before he left, but it’s time to talk about the elephant in the room.

Or literally anything but your dad.

“You kissed me before leaving and then you never came back, you never even called!” You say.

“What? I called almost every day!” You look at him confused at his words, “I knew you didn’t have a phone so I called the only number I remembered: your father’s.”

“That explains a lot of things…” You look down at your feet, Steve had called your father and he never told you anything? Why?

“He told me you didn’t want to talk to me or that you weren’t home, after a while I think he blocked my number, I didn’t have any other way to contact you and I simply thought you…didn’t want to hear from me…”

You look at him with a sad look, “He never told me about your calls.”

“What? Why?”

“Who knows what goes on in his sick mind.” Without even realizing your hand goes to the injury on your shoulder, and that’s when Steve understands.

“It was him, he gave you that scar.”

You nod, your eyes filling with tear, “Stabbed me with a piece of ceramic from a broken plate”

“Y/N that’s sick! Why didn’t you feel the truth at the hospital? Or to a teacher or…or…or to me…” His voice gets quieter towards the end of the sentence.

You shrug your shoulders, “I only have to endure it another few months, then I’ll leave and never come back.”

“How long has this been going on?” Steve gently wraps an arm around your shoulders, careful on the scar, and pulls you towards his chest. You bury your face in his broad chest and finally let go, crying against him. When was the last time you felt free to cry? At your mother’s funeral probably.

“Since my mother’s death.” You look up at him, placing your chin on his chest, comforted by his hold and the look of his eyes you decide to tell him the whole truth. “She died of a heart attack, that’s true, but you know what caused the heart attack?” You take a deep breath, “Exhaustion, overworking, call it however you like but truth is she was like my father’s slave — your heart falls in pronouncing those words — he made her work so much that in the end her heart couldn’t take it anymore.”

“Oh, Y/N…” Steve places a hand on the back of your head and cradles your head against his chest, kissing your forehead.

“And now he’s doing the same to me, I have to do everything in the house and if I don’t…” You can’t even finish the sentence as your body shakes with sobs.

“I’ll get you out of there, I promise.” Steve continues repeating soothing words to your ear and kissing your hair, you slowly calm down and look up at him, feeling like a huge weight has been lifted off your chest.

“Thank you.” You say softly.

“No need to thank me, I would do anything for you.”

“So…” A grin forms on your face as you push any thought regarding your father away, “What about that kiss?”

Steve laughs, “Well, my offer to go live on a mountain is still up if you want.”

“Like, best friends living together?”

“What if I want us to be more than best friends?” His eyes fall on your lips.

“Then I’d tell you that I want the same.” You press your lips on his, it’s a gentle and soft kiss. Just like Steve.

“I love you, damn I’ve loved you since we were kids.” You smile at his words.

“I love you too.”

Months later

There are only a few days left until graduation, until you can finally leave the hell that was supposed to be your home.

“Hello Mrs. Rogers.” You greet Steve’s mom as she opens the door. Since you and Steve started dating your presence has become almost constant at house Rogers, just like when you were a kid.

“Oh Y/N, Steve’s in his room.” She greets you with a hug. “I’m so happy that you are his girlfriend, I always knew you two would end up together.” You smile and before she can start planning your wedding you run to Steve’s room where he’s sitting on the bed.

“I know that look, you need to tell me something.” You give him a peck on the lips as a greeting.

“Yes and it’s big happy news.”

“Tell me everything big boy.” You know he hates that nickname, and that’s exactly why you keep calling him that.

“I got a call from the coach of an important Football team, I’ll spare you the details because I know you understand nothing of Football, but…” he takes your hands in his, “They want me in the team! I’m going pro on one of the best teams in the U.S.!” It’s true, you understand nothing of football but the excitement in his face and tone is hard to resist.

“This is fantastic! I’m so happy for you!” You throw your arms around his neck and hug him tightly.

“I want you to come with me.” He says as he cups your face in his hands. “Come live with me, there’s a great college near where I’ll have to stay, you can study there! It isn’t a mountain but it’ll keep you away from your dad.”

Only now you notice that you’re both crying, and for the first time in years yours are happy tears.

“I would love that.”

“Really?!” He kisses you again and again, laying you down on the bed between your laughs.

“I can’t wait to see you at my games, you’ll come see them right?”

“I won’t miss a single one.” You smile as he kisses your jaw. “I’ll be your lucky charm.” You chuckle.

“You’re better than my lucky charm, you’re my little star, the light of my life.”

You kiss him with a smile. He keeps calling you his star, but little does he know that he’s the sun of your life.

Your savior, the man who will take you away from you father.

The man you love.

Like, comments and reblogs are highly appreciated, but don’t feel forced to!

[sashiavi]

♡·.Sashiavi's 2000 Follower Prompt Event.·♡

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Hello My Loves and Welcome To My 2k Follower Smutty Prompt Event!

Below I Will Outline the Rules and Information !

♡•°•°•♡•°•°•♡•°•°•♡•°•°•♡•°•°•♡•°•°•♡

First, of course, the mushy stuff - I want to thank everyone for all the amazing support I've received through the time I've been doing all this ♡ Your kind comments, reblog tags and messages in my inbox always give me life.

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♡·.Information and Rules.·♡

•Submissions : Now Closed! 15.01.2025• AEST

For 2k Followers I wanted to do a Smutty Drabble/Fic Prompt Event!

Below are a Selection of Prompts and Characters for you to Choose from!

• Pick up to Two Prompts & Two Characters and formulate your Character(s) X Reader Request! - Send it into my Ask Box! If you are Off Anon, please make sure you have your Age somewhere visible on your page - This is an 18+ Event!

• I will always write an AFAB Reader with She/her pronouns in 2nd Person POV (You/You're/Yours) - I am most comfortable with this format :)

• I don't write/take requests for a specific body type, but if you would like to Request a specific Hybrid!Reader please feel free to! - This goes for Hybrid!Characters Too.

• Requesting Two Characters will yield a Threesome Scenario with the Reader - I won't be Accepting cross-fandom Crossovers or doing Separate Scenarios for Characters ^^

• Please feel free to Outline a Summary or a tease of Plot you'd like to see - The More Information the merrier! Certain Positions, Location or even Hard Limits you want to outline are welcome

• One Request Per Person! I will do my very best fulfill Everyone's Submissions - I aim to write 500-2k Words depending on how inspired I am feeling :]

Example Requests

- May I please request Wriothesley with Size Difference and Praise? Guiding the reader through taking him?

- I'd love to see Shane and Sam with the Public and Dirty Talk prompts! A threesome in the backrooms of Joja could be fun! If possible, can Shane be the Top as well?

- Can I request Puppy!Sam please? With Cock Warming for the prompt, I can imagine him being all squirmy <3

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♡Characters & Prompt List♡

♡·.Stardew Valley.·♡

- Including Hybrid Counterparts -

Sebastian | Sam | Alex | Shane | Harvey | Elliott | Kent

♡·.Genshin Impact.·♡

Diluc | Itto | Wriothesley | Alhaitham | Kaveh | Tartaglia

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Some Prompts may fall under the category of Dark Content - Spread into alphabetical order for your convenience - Feel free to pick ANY TWO (2) Prompts

Aftercare | Aphrodisiacs | Begging

Biting | Blow Jobs | Bondage

Boot Worship | Breeding | Choking/Breath Play

Cock Warming | Collaring & Pet Play | Comfort Sex

Cuckolding | Cuddle Fucking | Cunnilingus  

Dacryphilia | Daddy Kink | Dirty Talk

Double Penetration | Dubious-Consent | Edging

Foreplay Heavy | Free Use | Hate Sex

Knotting/Heats & Ruts | (Psudo)Incest | Overstimulation

Praise | Primal Play | Public

Sex Toys | Shower/Bath Sex | Size Difference

Somnophilia | Spanking | Thigh Fucking

Virginity | Voyeurism | Watersports

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♡·.Thank You All For Your Wonderful Support!.·♡

* Property of : SashiAvi - All Banners Made By Me *

[breathlesswinds]

(Devlog) What We Learned Making A Trans Dating Game

Hello, Amelia here, the writer for Breathless Winds. It's been 250,000+ words, countless revisions, and three years since this game entered development, and I wanted to talk about what I've learned leading up to release.

The concept for Breathless Winds was actually sort of a joke between friends. I was talking with Doris about how there should be a dating game where you play as a trans woman and your dating options revolve around certain ‘tropes’ we’d both seen in trans fiction-- the totally accepting cishet guy who falls in love with the trans heroine before she even knows she’s a woman, the cool trans woman who the heroine doesn’t know if she wants to date or wants to be, and so on.

Doris wound up suggesting we make this game ourselves. We both like visual novels and want to tell LGBT stories. Still half-jokingly and half-seriously, we started fleshing out what the romance options would be and coming up with a setting-- and soon, we were fully committed to making this game real.

I was a fan of visual novels but had only ever written prose. I knew which visual novels I liked and which scenes stood out, but I didn’t know why they did or how to make my own. 

I read some great advice from visual novel developers, but a good amount of my knowledge came from just working on Breathless Winds. As our first project, this game has grown a lot with us and we’ve learned a lot while making it.

Learning How to Write Visual Novels

A bad habit I had to break out of was only using the ‘novel’ part of the game and not the ‘visual’ part. I would sometimes write “He smiled” or lines like that, and Doris informed me that we can convey this much more simply with a sprite change.

It sounds obvious in retrospect, but lines like that are often pretty invisible when you’re reading a non-visual novel. These lines change the sprite of the character inside your head (if that makes sense, haha). I realized that I’m so used to them being ‘invisible’ that I didn’t notice their absence in visual novels I liked, so I would accidentally include them while writing. 

I was also writing these routes in a word processor, so I didn’t have the visual portion to reference, myself. I wound up making a lot of ‘tone’ notes like, “Lantana should be smug here” so that the meaning would carry when revising and implementing these into Ren’py. 

So, while visual novels share a lot with prose, they’re an entirely different medium. On the subject of representing things visually, I’ve struggled trying to figure out how much can be visually represented and how much should be written. 

Every asset in the game has to be drawn by Doris, so if I want the characters to go to a new location for a scene, I have to keep in mind that’s another background that Doris has to draw. If I want a new character to show up, that’s another sprite she has to draw. I don’t want to overload her, but if I’m trying to avoid this entirely, characters sometimes wind up standing in one room talking for ages without anything significant changing on-screen.

I’ve learned that it’s recommended for something to almost always be changing on-screen, though, so sometimes I just have to ask Doris to make a new asset for a certain scene. I still try to stick to locations/characters that already exist more often than not.

Every single thing in a visual novel is deliberate. Another thing I’ve had to learn that I never even considered before is how to write each line so it fits in the text box. It sounds obvious, but when I’m playing a visual novel, I don’t usually think about how each line has to be carefully constructed so it doesn’t need to be split up into two or more text boxes. In my mind, if a visual novel is well-created, there’s not much that breaks a reader’s immersion.

Planning & Outlining

The previous section might sound really weird to some people, so let me elaborate.  I’m a lifelong ‘write by the seat of your pants’-er, so the biggest trial-and-error of creating Breathless Winds for me was planning out the game.

Initially, I created outlines for each of the four routes, and we agreed ahead of time on which CGs each route would have. That way, Doris could draw the necessary backgrounds and CGs while I was in the long process of drafting this game.  My original outlines weren’t great. I know a lot of people have different experiences with writing, but for me personally, a story is always shaping itself in my mind. When I started making the outlines for Breathless Winds, I knew the concepts we wanted to convey, but I didn’t know what each route (and the game as a whole) was really about yet. This might sound weird and unprofessional, but sometimes, I don’t know what a story is about until I finish the first draft.

So while I was writing, I would look at my outlines and I would think, “this doesn’t actually make sense, he wouldn’t say that” or “this plot point would work better if moved to this other section” or “there’s a plot hole here I didn’t notice”. The story wound up changing a lot in this way as I learned what it’s really ‘about’. 

And even after I finished the first draft, I’d get feedback from Doris and/or my editor and they would suggest fixes to problems that even I hadn’t noticed, and then I would revise the route some more, and later on I’d come back and need to redo part of the route to comply with something I wrote in a later route-- I haven’t really felt ‘finished’ with Breathless Winds at any point, and I think I’ll still feel this way after the game is released.

This means that sometimes, a background was created but would go unused because there was no space for the scene that would use it, or we’d need a new CG last-minute, or so on. 

When I’m figuring things out as I go while writing a non-VN, the only person that I can adversely affect is my own self… so I’m eternally grateful for all of Doris’s patience with me on this matter. I think Breathless Winds has come out a much better game for all the re-plotting and revision. 

I redid the outlines several times as I went. I think I’ve understood how to create outlines that personally work for me-- ‘living’ outlines that hit all the main points, but leave wiggle room for moments when a character does something unexpected, work the best for me.

Scope Creep

So, originally, each route was meant to be 40,000 words. “With four routes, that’s only 160,000 words!” I thought. “And some of my favorite visual novels are about that long, so I can write that much, too!” ← clueless

This is the most infamous mistake that new creators make, and I walked right into it. I should have known better since I’ve bitten off more than I can chew with past non-VN writing projects before, but I was starry-eyed and didn’t realize how much work it is to make a VN. Some of those favorite visual novels I referenced were made by much larger teams, writers whose full-time job was writing (I wrote all of these routes on the side while working at a day job). 

If I could have done it again, I would have asked Doris to start out with a really short VN. But, I don’t regret making Breathless Winds at all. It’s brought Doris and I a lot closer, for one. Every time I thought I wanted to give up on this, Doris would motivate me to continue. Without the two of us both and our strong friendship, Breathless Winds wouldn’t exist, and I think that’s beautiful. 

No matter what, we’re going to see it through to the end. (I hope people like it, though…)

Anyway, here I am talking about how much 40,000 words is. Each route now is about 60k to 70k words. The problem with having evolving outlines is that they can often evolve into double their original size.

We came up with the idea of the poachers really early in development, and then not addressing the poachers felt like a failing, but by that point it was too late to remove the poachers entirely… and so the game wound up a lot longer dealing with the poachers. 

I think that if we had an editor sooner on in the game’s development, then we might have had someone to tell us, “do you really need all of this in the game? Does this plot point really need to be there? Will you be able to write all of this in a reasonable amount of time?”, haha. But Doris and I were really excited about the possibilities of this game when we started creating it, and without anyone to reel us back in, we wound up coming up with more and more things we wanted to put in the game.

Did you know there was going to be an island full of talking rats who say things like “the big cheese” and stuff all the time in Breathless Winds? Yeah. 

The Core Design Philosophy of Breathless Winds

So, for anyone who’s read this far but doesn’t know yet-- the premise of Breathless Winds is that you play as a trans woman who doesn’t know she’s trans yet, and she finds love with one of four love interests as she discovers her gender identity. 

In real life, it can be a lot messier for a person to date when discovering their gender identity. To put it briefly and mildly, a trans person’s life and sense of personal identity can rapidly change during a gender crisis and the early stages of transition. 

However, we wanted to make this game a ‘wish-fulfillment’ type story-- a trans fantasy about acceptance, community, and love. During a gender crisis, it can be easy to feel as if one has lost touch with themselves and become isolated from others. A sincere wish shared by many trans people is to be accepted, loved, and even celebrated as their true gender, not just tolerated. 

Since many trans people don’t get love and acceptance in real life, especially with the ongoing transphobic moral panic, we wanted to create a game that would bring this feeling of trans joy and celebration to trans audiences. 

We also hope that cis players will still enjoy the story and characters, and maybe come away from the game with a new understanding about being transgender and other aspects of LGBT identity (although we never intended this game to be ‘educational’).

Making Characters that Celebrate Trans Identity

Although we went through several revisions, the core identities of each character stayed the same since the game was first ‘jokingly’ pitched. In another post, I discussed how each character is themed around a change in seasons. (I also wound up theming them around the four humors when I was initially concepting them-- I really wanted to avoid too much ‘overlap’ in the LI’s personalities, haha). 

Ultimately, characters are created to serve a role. The LIs in Breathless Winds were designed to be love interests, of course-- characters who would appeal to the hypothetical trans femme audience. As mentioned earlier, we modeled them after other trans fiction tropes because these types of characters have a certain tried-and-true appeal, but this left plenty of flexibility to put our own spin on it. 

A trans woman being loved as a woman by a cishet guy can feel like a high form of ‘passing’, ‘fitting in’ to the female gender role, and being validated by his orientation. He only likes women, and he likes you, so you’re undoubtedly a woman. As a cishet guy, he represents a sort of acceptance into a societal norm that trans women can desire to live to. (Lantana, as a cis lesbian, represents the sapphic counterpoint to this-- although there is of course a big gap between the ‘normalcy’ of a cishet man and a cis lesbian woman, and I don’t mean to say those two are equivalent.) 

But not all trans women want to live to that (cis) societal norm. Rue and Valerian, as a trans woman and a trans man respectively, are the t4t options. 

Rue’s route represents that trans/sapphic ‘envy’ (“do I want her or do I want to be her?”) as well as finding power in community aside from what society considers ‘normal’. We’ve always been pretty clear about what we wanted to do with Rue’s route.

We went back and forth a lot more on Valerian’s route. Initially, we were unsure if he should be trans. He and Rue are the two less-friendly love interests (at least initially), so I was afraid it would come across that t4t is a more hostile option, which is not true at all. But it also felt like a mistake to not have a trans man in the game-- but making Gallardia trans would have required a big overhaul of what we had in mind for him and his route. (Although, childhood friends t4t is a really good idea...)

Beyond that, Valerian takes a villainous role in any route that isn't his own. We were worried that it would be wrong to have a trans antagonist who represents unjust power. However, Breathless Winds is a queer game with other positive trans characters, and we've always approached Valerian as a hot anti-villain man that you can't help but like.

In the end, Valerian’s route is about breaking generational cycles and what it is that makes you a man, and I also managed to sneak in a scene where they dance at a ball in the royal palace, so in the end I think it all worked out great.

Wish Fulfillment and Catharsis

Doris and I both agreed that we wouldn’t depict on-screen transphobia in Breathless Winds. Poppy worries about not being accepted, but fear of acceptance can come with any change in identity. Rue was rejected by her family for being trans, but this doesn’t take place ‘on screen’ in the game. There exist certain metaphorical parallels for transness and transphobia, but every route has a happy ending. 

Following up on this-- it can be difficult to write about discovery of gender identity without writing about transphobia, considering how many trans people suffer from internalized transphobia during their period of repression.

Sometimes, repressed/closeted transgender people ‘hyper-perform’ their assigned gender as a form of denial. A trans woman might grow out a beard and join a gym, while a trans man might become very interested in makeup and feminine clothing. 

In Breathless Winds, Poppy often struggles with ‘strength’ and what it means to be a man. In several routes, she tries to prove her strength under the assumption that being stronger would make her happy. Afraid the world would reject her if she became who she really is, she preemptively rejects herself.

Not every trans person suffers from prolonged denial, internalized transphobia, or even gender dysphoria. I don’t think it’s impossible to tell a purely-positive story about trans joy. 

While Poppy never gets rejected for being trans, faces transphobia, gets called a slur, etc, she faces both internal and external (metaphorical) obstacles to realizing and accepting her identity. 

Gallardia represents a societal norm that Poppy can’t live up to herself as a man.

Lantana suffers from certain aspects of her identity as a woman, which makes Poppy feel guilt for wanting to be a girl.

Rue is isolated from town at the start of her route, a ‘punishment’ for breaking this societal norm.

Valerian has to hyper-conform to his masculine gender role at first in toxic ways before finding acceptance from within and from his loved ones.

These struggles are real to a lot of people, but instead of pretending they don’t exist, I hoped to tell a story about catharsis. Poppy is able to live up to her truth as a woman and finds love with Gallardia, Poppy and Lantana redefine what being a woman should and does mean to them, Rue and Poppy find community in others who don’t fit the norm, Poppy and Valerian stop seeking gender validation from a society that was never made to serve them. 

Although these powerful forces of oppression exist, loving yourself as a trans person- and loving those around you, protecting the natural world, and standing up for what you believe in- can save the day. That’s the kind of story we wanted to tell.

Wrap-up

There’s a lot more I could write, but this has already gotten really long (sorry!) so I’ll wrap it up here. 

Learning how to write a visual novel in terms of technical skill (how to depict events on-screen, how long each line should be) as well as in terms of writing skill (how to outline the game, how to plan visual assets) has been a massive undertaking for me. 

Writing Breathless Winds has been a big challenge but also deeply rewarding, and all of your support has made the experience even more wonderful. Thank you for reading and thank you for supporting the game!

[popponn]

i didn't expect to see a future with you.

summary: it began as another fun and beneficial thing to have. until suddenly, it was about wanting ‘you and him for a very long time’. (in other words, he really didn’t mean to fall for you. really.)

characters: kaiser, reo, nagi.

notes: i tried to write about l word without mentioning it once. i hope i manage to get them right, this is my first time writing reo and kaiser especially. warning: relationships that started as casual and unserious, gacha at nagi's part. i really like fall later and harder troupe recently...

kaiser

months ago, if kaiser knew you got a fever, he would type a message of ‘get well soon’ without much meaning behind it along with a few extra sentences just to charm it all up. he would just cancel the date the two of you were supposed to be having and do anything else. practice, review his performance, or hell maybe have a different date and have fun with someone else. it was written all over the place, how this thing between you and him were anything but serious. he would never ask for your care, therefore he wouldn’t give you anything other than ‘the fun’ either.

and yet, here he sat on your bedside, porridge in hand like a nagging nanny because a moronic idiot—you—thought it was smart to walk through a storm instead of calling him or someone to pick you up. the thought of relationships and definitions and such as became the furthest thing in his mind the moment you called him with your slurred voice. you, being a helpless mush that could only wrap yourself with a blanket, couldn’t exactly protest to both his presence and harsh words. kaiser certainly didn’t shy away from calling you names—incompetent fool, being one of the tamer ones—the moment he arrived at your bedroom with medicines.

after cursing you and your useless outdated static of a brain, kaiser ushered you into the bed as he searched through your cabinets and ordered foods for your empty stomach. under the haze of your fever, you apologized to him and thank him. kaiser just gave you another comment about being stupid and baited a laugh from you. it was raspy and uglier than usual, but kaiser thought it would suffice. then, like a noisy sickly chatterbox, you asked why he choose you instead of his ‘anything else’.

“…it’s because I’m not an idiot,” Michael Kaiser replied to you after a long moment of silence. His back was turned towards you, the tone in his voice unshaken and flat, yet undeniably honest. “I know what I want.”

Your head throbbed painfully not truly understanding what he meant. But for him, you pushed out a chuckle, “’s that so, Michael…?”

“Do you even know what you are saying?” he shot back, his blurry figure walking closer towards you. As the view of his profile became clearer, you realized how you couldn’t quiet put a name on his expression. “Just rest up, you big baby.”

reo

as cruel as it was to say this, reo didn’t exactly begin with seeing you as a ‘person’. to him, you were more of the embodiment of ‘momentary excitements, rest, and escapism’. somewhere for him to have fun without thinking much, a someone who he could interact without any law of cause and effect following him. reo was certain you too saw him the same way. the two of you were a ‘why not?’ that could and would end like a passing breeze. it was nice, but it wouldn’t last long.

then, slowly came the late night chats, the voice notes filled with mundane things and lame jokes. afterwards, long talks about both anything and nothing followed. you came to his match, you were introduced to his teammates, you were a presence that was almost became a constant in every hour reo spent awake. and reo knew more than anyone else that he didn’t hate it when he watched you cry uglily at a movie he didn’t bother to pay attention to. in a way, he knew he was gone.

snotty and messy, your hand blindly reached around his sofa for a box of tissues. reo couldn’t take his eyes away from you as he laughed lightly and pushed the tissues towards you. hearing his chortles, you threw your cold feet towards his lap. you were looking at him with a pissed off questioning look whilst reo could only think how he could do this everyday.

“Is it even that sad?” Mikage Reo asked, teasing even when he slowly shifted your legs to comfortably rest on his lap. When the ‘pissed off’ look on your face intensified, Reo wondered if you would let him took a photo. For what, he didn’t exactly know either, but he certainly would be happy if you would let him.

“It’s about him finally realizing what he should have done, Reo!” you said, as if it answered everything. Reo could only chuckle—because perhaps it did. “Stop laughing! I didn’t laugh the last time you cried at that lame movie!”

He pushed himself closer towards you, a smile that felt like it wouldn’t die down plastered itself on his face. As the space between the two of you disappeared and you slotted yourself on his side like a piece long gone, he leaned his head against yours and didn’t stop himself from wrapping a hand on your shoulder. Still with a feeling he would soon said out loud to you, Reo continued to laugh merrily, “Come on, don’t say that. Here, here, let me wipe off those tears.”

nagi

the two of you started as a pair of gaming buddies simply because he found you funny and became what was pretty much ‘maybe-dating by convenience but still play together every now and then’ because one of his nosy sponsors who would love nagi to date his daughter. you were not troublesome, you did not ask much from nagi, you did not disturb his soccer career, and you seemed to like choki a lot. nagi didn’t exactly understand why you ‘date’ him, but if the comments from his friends were anything to go by, he supposed whatever reason you had were not terrible for him in any way.

the two of you sometimes hang around his room. usually it because you wanted to pull a gacha character and demanded nagi’s hands for luck. nagi didn’t exactly get it, but it wasn’t rare for you to made an interesting expression depending on what you got, so he supposed it was entertaining in a way. and each time the two of you did this, he also found it was fun to sit beside you and had you grab his hand for ‘luck’.

then the sunset came through from the window that day and you grabbed his hand yet again. suddenly, nagi found it unsurprising for him to remember every contour and corner of your hand. his eyes were trained on your face, watching you focusing on your phone screen and it felt like seeing you for the first time. when he intertwined your fingers with his as you cheered, it felt natural.

“Did you get her?” Nagi Seishirou leaned his weight towards you, letting the bed tilted along with him. He let you held his hand tighter as you too pressed your side to him. A grin that was bright and messy plastered itself on your face and Seishirou thought it suited the color of sunset. “You get her, huh? Yay.”

You were still buzzing with joy and excitement, your other hand reaching over him to hug his head to your chest. “Thank you! Thank you! Sei, I owe you!”

“Owe me, huh…?” Seishirou tried his best to think of a respond, but honestly all he could think of was how pleasant it was to be hugged by you, even if you probably weren’t thinking much of the action. Perhaps he really was as lucky as you had stated through big words and stressed intonations. As he returned your hug, Seishirou said, “Then, can I ask something for my payment?”

[shalscumbunny]

hi! I was wondering if you could write a fanfic abt yandere! shalnark having his s/o kidnapped (again🌚) and placed in a glass cage? Kinda..like the one Melanie Martinez had in her music video ‘detention’ with the whole performing for other ppl kinda deal?

Glass cage | Shalnark x Fem!Reader

Summary: Shalnark has captured his beloved, but apart from having her all to himself, he can't help but show her off as his beautiful and perfect possession to others.

Pairing: Shalnark X Female!Reader

Warnings: Kidnapped reader, doped and drugged reader, manipulation, glass box, clothing and imposed way of life.

Author’s note: I always mention it in all my writings in English, but better safe than sorry, English is not my native language so it is very likely to find many mistakes and also that I know practically nothing about writing “X character and Y/N”

Sites: AO3

You were poorly unconscious in that state, the drugs and narcotics in your blood made you have a totally altered perception of reality, although apparently, it was only a matter of a couple of hours before you were completely conscious again.

Your breathing was slightly labored and the only thing you saw clearly was that you were still in that glass cage, the second thing you saw through the glass was him.

Shalnark let out a sickly, infatuated smile when your gaze met his, completely enraptured by your image and presence, simply in his eyes you possessed unparalleled beauty, but at the same time you were a fragile and extremely precious porcelain doll, explicitly... HIS LITTLE AND PERFECT PORCELAIN DOLL.

You looked like a doll straight out of the factory, thanks to the fact that he usually chose your clothes, which made you look like a Victorian ballet dancer, extremely docile and graceful, although unfortunately he had to accept certain aspects of you, that he considered to be “factory defects.”

When the drug left your body, you would return to having that “rebellious” and disrespectful attitude, and he hated it, since it prevented him from showing you off to others.

However, the glass cage around you allowed him to show you off to the world as his and at the same time no one other than him could ever possess you, since he was the one who possessed the only key that opened the cage.

“Just one more show… You can rest soon, darling” He said kindly “Now just do what you do best”

Shalnark smiled listening to the expectant murmurs of the people, people who thought that all this was just a kind of dance mixed with theater, people who ignored that there was literally a kidnapped and drugged person in that cage, forced to entertain them.

“Everyone wants to see you, love…”

Minutes later, the stage curtain opened, leaving you in full view of the people sitting in the seats, most of them marveling at the style of your clothing and others by your “excellent performance”, playing a dancer in a cage.

The light had momentarily blinded you when the curtain opened, but soon the record player began to play music, the light melody reaching your ears, making your limbs and body coordinate so that you could start dancing.

You moved with a sensual and soft grace, but it was not that kind of obscene sensuality, Shalnark reserved those types of shows for himself, in the eyes of the spectators, the sensuality of your movements was attractive and innocent, combined with your lost gaze. You really seemed like a doll moved by strings, oblivious to the world, oblivious to people, belonging to an owner who gave them the joy of being able to witness your existence.

Your dance practically hypnotized everyone and that allowed the most discreet and fastest members of the Gen'ei Ryodan to steal at will the cell phones, wallets, rings and other extremely valuable jewelry from the wealthy spectators.

After a couple of hours, the show ended, the loot would probably be distributed tomorrow since Shalnark asked his companions as a personal favor that when the show ended, the place would be empty, that only you and him would remain.

Everything went dark, except for the place where you two were, so Shalnark opened the glass cage where you were lying, carrying you with great care until he finally sat down on an armchair and sat you on his lap.

“You gave a good show today, I'm very proud of you, you're learning to behave” Shalnark's smile was bright and real, his eyes contemplated your existence with absolute adoration

“My head…” You complained between small sobs and gasps

“Don't worry, honey. They're just side effects” Shalnark reassured you by taking your hands and kissing them

“I don't want to be here… I hate being here… I want to go home” You said weakly trying to get out of his grip, although it was completely useless, since your body was not at all able to try to face him

Shalnark sighed rolling his eyes and gently letting go of your hands.

“The same old story again… Can't you say anything else?” Shalnark scolded you as if you were a little girl. “I haven’t spent so many months educating you for you to say such ugly things to me, my love”

You didn’t even respond, you gulped as you saw how Shalnark had already taken the syringe with drugs from the nightstand next to the armchair where you were sitting.

“I don’t want injections, please” You begged between sobs, hiding in his neck like a repentant puppy.

“Then start behaving well” Shalnark said, patting your back and gently sticking the syringe close to your neck.

In a matter of seconds, you began to whimper and complain about the pain as the liquid entered your body.

“There… there… it’s over, Y/n” Shalnark left the used syringe on the nightstand and hugged you with both arms to comfort you “You should be thankful that I always inject you with great care, when I torture people, I usually do it harder and more painfully”

“I want to go home… I don’t want to be here… let me go…” You begged between sobs “I'm not a doll…”

Shalnark sighed in annoyance and frustration, roughly grabbing your face making you look at him face to face.

“I hate it when you behave like that again…” He said in a serious tone “It seems like you never pay attention to me and you only give me excuses to consider punishing you and having you in that cage all the time, is that what you want? To be in the cage all the time? I can do it if you want”

You gulped at the threat, tears running down your cheeks from the fear you felt mixed with how weak your body was, you were afraid of his falseness and cynicism, you didn’t understand how someone with such a sweet and kind smile could say all those things as if it were nothing.

“I love you… I love you more than anyone in this world…” Shalnark said, pulling you closer to him “Everything I do… I do it for your own good… for the good of both of us…”

After his last sentence, Shalnark kissed you softly, cupping your face in his hands, the tips of his fingers caressing your wet, red cheeks.

“Everything I do… is for us…” Shalnark whispered on your lips before kissing you again “The glass cage is your tower… when you learn to behave, I will rescue you from that tower…”

Shalnark kissed your forehead lovingly and then rested his forehead against yours, looking at you completely in love, hypnotized, enslaved and obsessed with your existence.

“And so… you will be my perfect princess and I will be your prince... and we will be together... forever...”

Thank u for reading, I hope you like it and what I wrote is good. 🤍

[ninupi]

haiiii, i loved your patched up story with mitsuya and was wondering if you could maybe do another short story about reader basically being the schools president or a student of high intelligence but after school has this total other side where she’s also in a gang and into the whole fighting world so she’s really cool or something.

i know this might be a lot to ask and i’m hoping i explained that well enough lol but yeah! (again please take your time no rush and you can do it with any character you prefer from tokyo revengers, i love them all)🫶🏽🫶🏽

pawn | t. mitsuya

₊˚⊹♡ tags; fem!reader, some cursing, like one sexual joke towards reader in bad taste, threats (not towards reader tho), blackmail (also not towards reader lol)

₊˚⊹♡ wc; 900+

₊˚⊹♡ a/n; ill be honest I had a bit of trouble thinking of how to go about this but after some thinking this is what I came up with. sorry if its not exactly what you wanted but I tried my best!

(ू˃̣̣̣̣̣̣︿˂̣̣̣̣̣̣ ू)

Mitsuya knew that people didn't really like you, he had just assumed it was because you were a strict rule follower and didn't put up with people breaking them. You've been class president all three years of high school and it was as if you got more serious each year.

"I don't get her issue, she takes shit way too seriously" Mitsuya would hear people whispering after you scolded them about certain things, whether it's their uniform not being on right or how they were late to class and anything in between.

And to some extent he agreed, but one thing he didn't get is why everyone was so scared to say something to you. He'd seen other people pick on other class presidents but when it came to you it was if everyone just took your words with a grain of salt.

"Y/n such a bitch man, I almost got detention just because of her" he heard some guy groan behind him while his friends laughed at him. "No way, are you serious? She's so stuck up, someones got to help her relax if you know what I mean"

Mitsuya rolls his eyes at their gross suggestions when he notices you walk in "Kentaro can I speak to you?" you seem slightly annoyed and mitsuya wonders if you heard what they had said about you. But mitsuya doesn't dwell on it once the boy leaves with you or when he comes back twenty minutes later looking a bit pale in the face.

"I just need you to write the use of your club funds here and any future plans in this box" you explain as if mitsuya hasn't done this multiple times before "You don't have to explain everytime you know" he laughs taking the form from your hands.

"Just a habit I guess" you shrug organizing the rest of the papers in your hands "Y/n? Can I talk to you about something?" Kentaro asks standing at the door of the economics club room. "Not right now im busy" you brush him off not even sparing him a glance.

"B-but it's important...it's about the money you asked- I said im busy. Are you deaf?" your change in tone shocks mitsuya a bit but he decides not to say anything. And why would you be asking Kentro for money, he's not in any club that mitsuya can think of.

"I should be by later to pick up the form, if i'm not by back by 4 just leave it on my desk please" you tell mitsuya walking out of the classroom with kentaro following close behind "Are you stupid? Talking about that in front of someone else? Do you want me to-"

Mitsuya looks at you two confused as you leave, what could you possibly be talking about?

Looking at the clock it reads 4:15, mitsuya finally realizes you're not coming back anytime soon and decides to make his way towards your class. Everyone else has gone home for the day finishing up their club activities and such so the hallways were quiet.

Mitsuya knows you wouldn't just forget to pick up the papers so he wonders what you could be busy doing when he hears someone talking in one of the classrooms. "What do you mean you don't have the money?" He immediately recognized your voice and guessing by your tone you weren't happy.

"I-i have some of it, I just don't have all of it...just give me two more- Give you more time? You've had a week, what the hell were you doing?" Mitsuya peeks his head into the room a bit and sees Kentaro standing in front of your desk looking a bit nervous.

"I have about 260 I just need to get the rest, I swear I'll get it to you in two days" what could you possibly need that much money for mitsuya thought to himself when you stood up and corned Kentaro.

"Listen to me, I told you to get 300 by this Friday last Sunday. You've had plenty of time to get your shit together, if it were up to me i'd give you the two days but it's not. I told my guys I'd have it by Sunday and that you were going to get it for them."

Mitsuya listened intensely to the way you were talking, he'd never seen this side of you and honestly if he were in Kentaro's shoes he'd be pretty nervous too. What guys were you referring to? And what'd they need all that money for anyways.

"So if you don't get me that money by Sunday it'll be your ass, not mine. So get it together and collect the fucking money, I shouldn't have to baby you. Remember if you don't do this i'll get your ass kicked out of here in no time, you understand me?"

Kentaro opened his mouth to say something but you didn't even give him a chance start "Don't say anything, I have all the proof of you cheating on those midterms and the principle will expel you for that. I also know about what you did to Akami, if her brother found out- Ok! ok i'll get you the money by Sunday! Please don't say anything about anything I swear i'll do whatever you want!"

Mitsuya doesn't think he's ever seen a guy like Kentaro so pale in the face before, what type of dirt did you have on this guy? Whatever it is seems bad and Mitsuya decided right then and there he'd try to stay on your good side for a while. Even if he hasn't done anything wrong.

"Get the fuck out of here just looking at you is pissing me off" you mutter going back to your desk, mitsuya doesn't have time to react before Kentaro is sliding the door open revealing him. He notices your shocked face and awkwardly smiles "I brought the papers..."