#shes level headed and intelligent and wants to do whats right

[7s3ven]

Hihi can you do a luke x reader fic where reader has had a crush on him for the longest time but he never liked her back and once she started to loose feelings and liking other people he gets jealous and ends up liking her and they get tgt in the end

I love ur writing sm!!🙈🙈

THANK YOU!! 😽😽

I actually have the perfect idea for this in my drafts, omg.

EVERY1 WANTS HIM. luke (pjo)

( master list )

IN WHICH… Y/N L/N realizes she didn’t the only girl hopelessly in love with Luke. And when she finally lets him go, that’s when he decides to reciprocate her precious feelings.

“Everyone wants him, that was my crime. The wrong place at the right time.”

Warnings : Y/N is kind of girly, details differ, angst

—

Love was a funny topic. It often left you breathless with your head spinning and your heart pounding so fast that you feared it would abruptly stop. Or sometimes, it filled you with a sense of dread and envy that engulfed you. Y/N was the latter.

Being an Aphrodite child, she had no problem catching the attention of the guys at camp, including Luke Castellan’s.

He was the golden boy, the role model, the literal blueprint to a great demigod warrior. And Y/N was practically perfection in a human’s body. So why was keeping his attention so hard?

Y/N had tried to deny her feelings for Luke after realising he rarely batted an eye in her direction, yet every time she smelled his cologne, she almost swooned. Him sending her occasional bright grins when he decided to acknowledge her didn’t help either.

“Y/N, can you help Luke with setting up the targets?” Chiron’s voice snapped Y/N back to reality. She suddenly remembered that she was standing on a large grassy plane, awaiting to teach a band of small kids archery. Well, more like Luke was going to do the teaching part. She was only there as a small punishment for being out past curfew.

“Right.” She stammered, hurrying over to Luke. He handed her a target from his pile and when their fingers brushed, Y/N almost jolted. “Sorry.” She muttered.

She felt a little stupid right now. She wasn’t usually the shy one when it came to interactions with guys. Luke merely smiled, his gaze following her as she placed the target down, providing Y/N with false hope.

“You’re better at archery than I am. You should be teaching.” Luke uttered after a moment of silence. Chiron had already wandered off to attend to other parts of camp, leaving the pair of older kids alone.

“I’m not that good.” Y/N quickly replied.

Luke was silent for a minute more before he spoke again. “Why do you act so defenceless and dumb?”

It took Y/N a short second to register his words. “Excuse me?” She choked out. Was he insulting her? Last time she checked, she was decently smart. Definitely not on Annabeth’s level but her grades had always been higher than average.

“I’m not calling you dumb.” Luke quickly corrected himself, “But I’m just wondering why you pretend to be so weak when you’re actually a good fighter and why you hide your intelligent side and focus on your looks. Why do you act stupid to get male validation?”

Y/N didn’t know the answer to his random question. “Nobody likes a smart and strong girl.” She whispered as she set up the last target.

“Well, I must be a nobody then. My type is smart and strong.” Luke grinned before his eyes darted over to Silena, who stood a few meters away. “Your sister’s waiting for you.”

Y/N glanced over her shoulder, subtly waving at Silena. “I’ll get going then. Bye, Luke.”

“See ya, Duke.”

Y/N momentarily paused, “What did you just call me?” She asked in confusion.

“Duke. As in, Heather Duke? You know, from Heathers? She acts dumb but is actually really smart, just like you.”

Y/N could only stare at Luke with her lips slightly parted. “Okay.” She breathed. “Bye.” She jogged over to Silena, quickly grabbing her half-sister’s arm.

“He gave me a nickname.” She whispered to Silena.

On instinct, Silena squealed. “Oh, my gosh! He’s totally into you!” The younger camper effortlessly fed Y/N’s delusions. “Make your move at the campfire tonight, don’t be shy!” Silena nudged Y/N with her elbow.

“Do you think he actually likes me?” She mumbled. Silena immediately nodded. Y/N shakily inhaled. “I guess I could… sit with him at the campfire.”

Silena happily clapped her hands. “Let’s go find you the perfect outfit!”

The campfire was in a few hours. The sun was slowly beginning to set, giving Camp Half-Blood a break from its harsh and burning rays.

Silena dug around in Y/N’s closet, messily throwing articles of clothing over her shoulder.

“What on earth are you doing?” Drew scowled in disapproval as she was hit in the face with a short brown skirt.

“Y/N’s going to make a move on Luke and she needs to look sexy!” Silena exclaimed amongst all the chaos.

Drew lightly scoffed. “Just throw her into a black top and mini skirt. She looks good in anything.”

Silena gasped as she stood up straight. “You’re right!” She scrambled around to find what she was looking for before shoving a black off-shoulder top and a short grey and white plaid skirt with hints of brown into Y/N’s arms. “Get changed! Now!”

Y/N quickly hurried into the bathroom, a little overwhelmed by Silena’s sudden enthusiasm.

“Are you sure about this?” She mumbled, trying to tug the skirt down. She usually wore short skirts but never in front of Luke.

“It’s fine, stop fidgeting with it.” Drew snapped, linking arms with Y/N. Silena did the same on the other side, the two girls practically dragging Y/N out of the cabin. She nervously gulped as they neared the roaring fire.

“I’ve never seen you this nervous.” Drew piped up. It was true. Y/N was almost like a flirting machine yet her heart was always stuck on Luke Castellan.

Y/N’s eyes scanned the small crowd huddled around the campfire, freezing when she spotted Luke in the company of another girl. Silena, wondering why Y/N had abruptly stopped walking, followed her gaze.

“Oh… that’s…” Silena wrinkled up her nose, nudging Drew.

“That’s not right.” Drew furrowed her eyebrows together.

Y/N watched with an aching heart as Luke slung an arm around the girl’s shoulder and leaned in to kiss her cheek.

The girl in Luke’s arms immediately glanced at Y/N, knowingly grinning as if to silently say “There’s another girl in Luke Castellan’s life”.

Y/N almost started trembling. “I…” She clawed at her throat, “I can’t breathe.”

Drew immediately grabbed Y/N’s wrists. “Calm down.” She demanded, “You are Y/N fucking L/N. You don’t need a man. You are an absolute powerhouse by yourself!”

Y/N shakily inhaled before she nodded. She resisted the urge to glance at Luke again, knowing it would only suffocate her even more.

“Y/N, no offence, but maybe Luke just… doesn’t like you as much as you like him.” Silena murmured, despite being one of the only people that constantly fed Y/N’s imagination.

Y/N stared at the ground, feeling a mix of anger, sadness, and happiness all in one. Angry that Luke led her on. Sad that Luke would never see her the way she saw him. And happy that she no longer had to withstand the pain of seeing him with other girls.

“We can skip the campfire.” Silena gently said, placing a hand on Y/N’s shoulder.

Y/N quickly lifted her head, her lips curved into a delicate frown. “No. Find me someone to flirt with.”

“Theo, Ares kid. Handsome, good fighter, surprisingly didn’t inherit his dad’s anger issues.” Drew pointed a tall brunette boy sitting amongst his siblings. As Y/N stormed off towards Theo, Drew leaned to the side to whisper to Silena.

“She really is mother’s daughter.”

“Theo. Hi.” Y/N stopped in front of the teenager, smiling at him. Theo paused, lifting his gaze to stare at Y/N in surprise.

“Oh! Y/N… hi!” Theo looked unnaturally happy to see Y/N. He grinned up at her, welcoming her to sit next to him.

“I thought you would be sitting with Silena and Drew.”

“I decided I needed a change.” Y/N clasped her hands together as she gazed at Theo. She saw his cheeks turn bright red.

“And you chose to sit next to me of all people?”

Y/N shrugged, “Yes. Is there something wrong with that?”

“No!” Theo stammered, “I just wasn’t expecting you to sit with me! Because you’re so pretty- does that sound weird? Uh, you’re just really beautiful- that sounds weird.”

Theo’s siblings looked over at him and mockingly snickered together as he tripped over his words.

Y/N merely stared at him, her glossed lips set in a slight curious pout. “You think I’m pretty?” She asked, batting her lashes.

“Everybody thinks you’re pretty. Not just because of your looks but because of your vibe.”

Y/N’s cheeks unintentionally heated up. “Oh.” She murmured, glancing at Silena who was eagerly watching the pair. The ravenette subtly pointed over at Luke, whose jaw was clenched. His attention was no longer on the girl beside him and, instead, his focus rested on Y/N.

“Are you trying to make Luke jealous?” Theo suddenly asked. Y/N quickly turned her head to face him. “It’s not hard to tell you have a crush on him. I mean, he probably knows at this point.”

“I’m not that obvious.” Y/N retorted.

Theo chuckled as he took a sip from his drink. “You’re about as subtle as a sword. You wanna make him jealous? I’ll help you. I know how a guy’s mind works and right now, he wants to strangle me for even looking at you.”

“Why would you even offer to help me with such a ridiculous task?”

“I like watching chaos.” Theo moved closer to Y/N, their shoulders gently brushing. “And I like causing it even more.” He grinned, “What do you say? Partners in crime?” He held out his hand for a hand shake.

“I like the sound of that.” Y/N laughed as she pulled Theo into a tight hug, “I don’t think a handshake would cause enough chaos, though.”

Theo had that same mischievous glint in his eyes as Y/N did. “You’re right.”

“You should’ve seen Luke.” Silena giggled as she washed her perfectly clear face, “He was practically fuming!”

“He deserves it.” Drew piped up as she carefully plucked out any stray eyebrow hairs. “Leading Y/N on then acting like he’s all innocent. What a jerk. You’re better off without him, honestly.”

Silena hummed in agreement. “Hermes boys are always telling lies.”

Y/N remained quiet as she wiped the excess water off her face. Sure, she felt annoyed that Luke had played with her feelings but small part of her still yearned for his attention.

“Yeah. I guess.” Y/N whispered. Drew and Silena left the bathroom, leaving Y/N to tend to herself. She stared at her reflection, taking in the dark circles that had begun forming and how her smile never looked genuine anymore. Her lips were curved but there was no joy in her eyes.

“Y/N, are you coming? We’re watching to all the boys I’ve loved before.” Silena poked her head into the bathroom, alerting Y/N.

As Aphrodite children, romcoms were their favourite movies. They spent a lot of time watching crazy rich asians, 2000 romance movies, and even gossip girl purely for the unbelievable drama.

“Yeah, I’m coming. Hang on.”

Y/N practically stumbled out of her cabin. It was still dark, the sun still hiding behind the mountain peaks. Dim lanterns lit her path as she begrudgingly started jogging around the camp grounds. She was using it as a method to clear her mind, but she unexpectedly crashed into Theo.

“Morning.” He grinned down at her. “You out for a morning jog?”

“I have nothing better to do.” Y/N muttered back as she spotted some movement out of the corner of her eye. It was Luke slipping on his camp shirt as he stepped out of the Hermes building, barely awake. He saw Y/N and Theo but didn’t bother acknowledging them.

“Someone’s grumpy today.” Theo joked, lightly nudging Y/N. “He’s probably still jealous over last night.”

Y/N folded her arms over her chest. “I still don’t get why he’d be jealous. It was fun at first but why exactly would he be envious of you?”

Theo sent her a surprised look. “If a pretty girl was throwing herself at me and then suddenly stopped and gave other guys attention, I’d be jealous too.” Theo’s gaze flickered to Luke, “And here he comes now. See ya.”

Theo slyly slipped away before Y/N could grab him. Luke was quickly walking towards her, tightly holding a beige-coloured envelope in his hands.

“Y/N.” He uttered, “Here.”

“What’s this?” Y/N muttered as she took the letter Luke handed her. For a minute, she almost thought it was for her.

“I need your opinion on it. I’m going to give it to Isa.” Luke smiled, knowing exactly what he was doing, while Y/N thickly gulped.

“Right.” She muttered, staring at Luke’s surprisingly neat handwriting. It felt like she was opening a letter meant for her. Her eyes quickly scanned over the words, wanting nothing more than to run away. “It’s good.” She choked out.

“Would you give it to her? I know you’re relatively close.” Luke sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck while Y/N furrowed her brows in annoyance. She bit back a loud scoff, shoving the letter into Luke’s hands.

“I’m not your errand runner, Luke.” She snapped, “Give it to her yourself. And I’m not close with Isa. Wrong girl, you jerk!” Y/N couldn’t help but storm off. She felt ridiculed by Luke. It was like he was purposely embarrassing her to see how she would react.

If Luke wanted a fight, he’d get more than that. He’d get a war. People often forgot that Aphrodite was also a goddess of battles and that her children were often just as violent as the Ares kids if pushed too far.

By the time Y/N arrived at the Pavilion, Drew and Silena were already sitting in their usual seats. “He’s such a jerk.” Y/N grumbled as she slid into the seat between her sisters, “Ugh!”

“What did he do this time?” Drew asked, unfazed because she had expected Luke to mess up again.

“So I’m on my morning jog and I run into Theo so we talk but Luke approaches me, causing Theo to walk away. And Luke hands me a letter without any context! So I ask what it is and it’s a letter for Isa. And he asks me to give it to you because apparently, we’re close. But I have never even talked to her! And I realized he probably mixed me up with another girl!”

Y/N angrily stabbed her fork into a roasted potato. “The audacity! Honestly!”

“Good to know you’re finally acknowledging how stupid he is.” Drew drawled as she stared into a small hand mirror and perfected her lip gloss.

Silena, always the kindest out of the iconic Aphrodite trio, pursed her lips. “Don’t say that.” She muttered at Drew. She turned her attention to Y/N. “Maybe he’s having pretty girl withdrawal symptoms.”

Drew gave Silena a pointed look. “What does that even mean?”

“He misses Y/N fawning over him and after her interaction with Theo, he wants to get back at her. Thus, locking you two in a battle where both of you are too proud to fold.”

Y/N huffed. “Maybe I should just move on.”

“Please do.” Drew piped up, “He doesn’t deserve you.”

Y/N nodded her head in determination. “Okay. By the next campfire, I’ll be completely over him! I swear by it!”

Y/N was wrong. So, so, so wrong. She was not over Luke. In fact, she might be falling deeper into his undeniable charm. She sat with Drew and Silena, as always. Theo and Clarisse lingered behind them while Luke, Chris, and a few other Hermes kids sat to their right.

“Is that the new Apollo kid?” Drew asked as she nodded over at the boy strumming the guitar. He was quietly humming along, adjusting the strings every once in a while.

“Yeah. Eric or something.” Y/N replied, her eyelids drooping. She leaned back, accidentally bumping into Theo’s knees. She tried to pull away but he held her down.

“Don’t look now but a certain Hermes boy is staring at you. He looks green as fuck.” Theo whispered in Y/N’s ear as he rested his hands on her shoulders. “Laugh like I said something funny.”

Y/N lightly giggled, covering her mouth with one hand so nobody could see that it was fake.

“He looks even angrier now.” Clarisse added, enjoying Y/N’s little scheme.

“I thought you were moving on from him.” Drew butted in.

“The chaos is fun to watch.” Clarisse answered for Y/N. “Don’t look at Luke but look at Eric. He’s eyeing you up.” Y/N glanced at the new camper, immediately locking eyes with him.

Eric gently smiled as he began to sing along with his siblings, swaying to the beat and never once breaking eye contact with Y/N. Luke’s gaze darted between Y/N and Eric before he ran his tongue over his teeth in annoyance. Why was he feeling this way? He had never been interested in Y/N before, at least not in the way she wanted.

He agreed that she was beautiful but there was nothing more to her than that in his eyes. He never did give himself the chance to get to know her, though. He only liked the attention she gave him and when she abruptly ripped it away, he felt empty. Only now did he realize how many guys were actually interested in Y/N.

It only got worse after the campfire. Y/N was no longer seen following Luke around like a lost puppy and to other boys, they saw it as a chance to finally make their move.

“Oh, my gosh. This is so cheesy.” Theo laughed as he read the love letter someone had sent Y/N. She chuckled along with him.

“I know, right?” She sighed, plucking the letter from Theo’s hands. “I appreciate it but the rhyming scheme doesn’t exactly work out, does it?” Theo immediately shook his head.

“They have great words but they cannot rhyme to save their life.”

Over the past few weeks, Y/N ended up spending more time merely hanging out with Theo than plotting another trick against Luke. In all honesty, she enjoyed his company. It made her wonder why she let herself become so blinded by her adoration for Luke.

“Uh oh.” Theo muttered, “Lover boy incoming.” Y/N lifted her head to see Luke.

“Can we talk?” The brunette asked, though it sounded more like a demand. He didn’t even bat an eye at Theo. “Now?” Luke Castellan had finally cracked.

“Oh… sure.” Y/N stood up and glanced at Theo, who shooed her off. He sadly watched as she trailed after Luke, her hands clasped nervously behind her back.

“That should be me.” He whispered under his breath. “Castellan doesn’t deserve her.”

“Did I do something wrong?” Luke led Y/N to an isolated area of camp. And he eventually said something after a few moments of deadly awkward silence. “Why are you avoiding me and talking to all these other guys all of a sudden?” His knees felt like jelly when Y/N looked up at him.

“Excuse me? I have a right to associate with anyone I please.”

“Why aren’t you paying attention to me?” Luke blurted out. “Why are you flirting with other guys when you used to only flirt with me?”

“Because you’re a jerk, Luke. You don’t have the right to play around with my feelings and when I don’t give you attention anymore, suddenly you want it again! You should have appreciated it when you had it!” Y/N harshly poked his chest as she spoke in a tone she had never used before. Luke could only stand still as Y/N pointed out his flaws.

“But… I liked your attention.” He whispered just loud enough for Y/N to hear.

“Too bad. Go kiss Isa. I thought you liked her?” Y/N was mocking him as she waved him off.

Luke stumbled back, stunned. In that moment, he realised how truely beautiful Y/N was. He took notice of her charming smile, her shining eyes, the crinkles on her face as she grinned. And he remembered how kind she was. She never overstepped a boundary unlike other girls. She admired Luke from afar and didn’t act like a creepy stalker.

Luke slowly walked away, quickly glancing over his shoulder to see Y/N embrace Theo. He had never felt more jealous than before. He could see Clarisse, Drew, and Silena watched him, each smiling like they knew something he didn’t.

“Did lover girl reject you?” Clarisse taunted him, causing Luke to roll his eyes.

“Fuck off, Clarisse.” He grumbled. Drew let out a muffled laugh, finding amusement in the whole situation.

“She doesn’t want you anymore, Castellan.” Drew uttered, shrugging. “Get over it. Didn’t you treat her the same?”

Luke furrowed his brows. “I never treated her like that…” He trailed off, trying to remember when he had ever brushed Y/N off.

There was the time at the campfire where he kissed that girl on the cheek.

And when he showed Y/N his love letter to Isa, which was really just his shopping list shoved into an envelope.

And when he purposely mixed her up with another girl.

“Oh, shit,” He muttered, “I’m a jerk.”

“You just noticed?” Drew snapped. “You realise you miss Y/N because she only ever focused on you when so many other guys wanted her attention too? What happens now? What are you gonna do, huh?”

Luke lightly chewed on the inside of his cheek. “What am I supposed to do? It’s not like I share her feelings.”

Clarisse leaned against a wooden pole, staring at Luke with a small grin. “Yeah. But you’re starting to. You’re jealous.”

Luke scowled, “I am not.” He huffed. “You’re delusional, Clarisse.”

“Maybe. But at least I didn’t fumble a gorgeous girl like you, Castellan.”

Luke clenched his jaw, something he seemed to be doing quite a lot with recent events. “Whatever.” He muttered, quickly walking off.

“I thought she was planning to move on from Luke.” Silena spoke for the first time.

“Be realistic, she’d jump into his arms if he confessed.” Clarisse fired back. Drew nodded her head in agreement. Y/N had always been a hopeless romantic, especially when it came to Luke.

“So… are we going to help him out or…” Silena trailed off as she looked at Drew then at Clarisse, both of them having identical evil glints in their eyes.

“He can figure it out on his own. I want to see how it ends.”

Luke lay awake in his bed, a thin layer of sweat coating his body from the humid air. It was unusually hot in his cabin. The Hermes building was often cold when the wind blew through the small cracks in the walls but someone made the grand choice of leaving the heater on for hours.

Finally, he stood up, having had enough of overheating. He yanked the door open, the wind feeling euphoric on his flushed cheeks.

He stepped outside, deeply inhaling. His gaze flickered to another camper walking around, dressed in a blazer cinched at the waste and a mini pleated skirt. There was only one group of people who dressed that fancy for a simple walk; Aphrodite kids. And Luke instantly recognised their H/C hair.

“Y/N.” He quietly called out as he jogged towards her. Y/N resisted the urge to roll her eyes as she turned around.

“What?” She muttered, folding her arms over her chest.

“I’m, uh, sorry for upsetting you earlier.” Luke scratched the back of his neck, hoping and praying Y/N would accept his half-hearted apology. It wasn’t much but it was all he could muster up.

Y/N, however, wasn’t that easy to break. “You can’t treat me like that then expect me to forgive you. Get it through your head, Luke, I don’t like you anymore.” She was about to storm off but Luke was quick to grasp her wrist.

“Please… forgive me. I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean to treat you like that. I didn’t know it would affect you.”

Luke was stunned when Y/N shoved him back. “You knew I liked you, Luke. You knew yet you still played around with me. And then when I move on, suddenly you want me back. You don’t get to decide that!”

“I know.” Luke murmured.

“You’re a jerk.” Y/N hissed, pushing him again.

“I know.”

Luke was expecting another harsh blow but Y/N only stared at him as she lightly panted. “You were jealous.” She muttered.

Luke quickly shook his head. “I don’t get jealous.”

“Admit it, Luke. Admit it.”

“I… can’t.”

“Tell me how you feel… and I’m yours.” Y/N stepped closer to him, their bodies almost pressed together. Luke’s breath hitched and in that moment, he wanted to blurt out everything.

How he felt like a failure after his quest.

How he thought he never truely deserved love.

And how he missed Y/N fawning over him.

Yet, he said nothing. He kept his mouth shut and he could see the hope in Y/N’s eyes slowly drift away.

It wasn’t a surprise to her that Luke remained silent. After all, he was never one to share his private thoughts.

“That’s what I thought.” She whispered, “Good night, Luke.” Y/N slipped away, not sparing him another look.

Over the next few days, Luke looked horrendous. Even Chris was staring at the boy in concern until he finally confronted Luke. “Dude.” Chris muttered, “You look terrible. What happened?”

“I haven’t been sleeping well.” Was all Luke answered with as he slowly stirred his spoon around in the soup. Clarisse, Drew, and Silena had all taken a notice of his rugged appearance as well.

“Do we help him now?” Silena questioned.

Clarisse sighed, rolling her eyes. “We have to. Otherwise, he’ll never have any game.”

STEP ONE: Lure Y/N out

“I don’t get why we’re going on a walk in the middle of the night.” Y/N uttered as Drew forcefully pushed her out of the cabin. “There’s harpies, you know.”

“Fuck them. Come on, hurry up. We don’t have all night.” Drew grumbled.

Silena was leading the way with Clarisse hot in her trail, holding a sword in case a happy did actually show up. The group of four girls wandered through the woods, their only source of light being a dim lantern Silena held in her left hand.

“Almost there.” The ravenette beauty spoke up. “Y/N, wait here.”

Drew and Silena rushed off while Clarisse stayed behind, grabbing onto Y/N’s collar every time the H/C-nette tried to walk back to her bed.

“I got someone’s dessert promised to be for a month. I ain’t letting you ruin that.” Clarisse uttered.

STEP TWO: Make sure Luke looks… decent

“Stop fiddling with the collar.” Drew slapped Luke’s hand away as he tried to adjust the tight buttons. He struggled to suck in a breath. “Gosh, men are such babies.” She rolled her eyes while Silena silently combed Luke’s hair.

“You look handsome.” Silena reassured Luke as she showed him his reflection. Luke stared at himself, feeling a little uncomfortable in such formal clothes.

“Are you sure?” He asked for the fifth time, finally causing Drew to snap.

“Oh, shut it, Castellan! We made you look good, end of story!”

Silena was quick to hush Drew in case Y/N heard her shouts. Luke sighed, adjusting his tie so that it was centred.

“I still think confessing to her on a beach is stupid. There’s sand in my shoes.”

“Hey, we offered to help you. You’ll take what you’re given.” Drew poked his shoulder before turning to Silena. “You can go get Y/N now.”

STEP THREE: Force Y/N to confront Luke and Luke to confront his feelings

Y/N furrowed her brows as soon as she saw the strange sight of Luke standing on a sandy beach. She turned to Silena but she had already dashed off, most likely to wait in the shadows until Luke and Y/N came to an agreement.

Y/N sighed. “What do you want, Luke?”

“I shouldn’t have let you go that night.” Luke answered. “I should have spilled out my feelings. I should have told you everything.”

“Well,” Y/N folded her arms over her chest, “It’s too late now.”

“I think you’re pretty.” Luke quickly said Y/N got ready to leave. She paused. “I think you’re beautiful. Gorgeous. Breath-taking. And I’m not talking about your outer appearance because as amazing as that is too, I’m talking about your heart and your vibe. I like how you’re the embodiment of pink. I like how you collect pearls and pieces of jewellery. I like how you adore heart-shaped things and how you’re always ready to lend a helping hand.”

“You noticed… all that?”

“I like how you always watch romcom movies with your siblings. I like how you wear the prettiest necklaces. I like your seashell collection and I like all your Vivienne Westwood clothes. I like how every time you leave camp for the holidays, you come back with a new fashion book and it’s all you read for the next days coming.”

STEP FOUR: High-five as Luke finally confesses (and Y/N cries - Clarisse)

“I like you.” Luke spoke the three words Y/N had been wanting to hear for years. She stared at him, silent and unmoving. He took that as a no until Y/N pulled him into a hug.

“Thank you.” She whispered, small tears rolling down her cheeks.

“Are you… crying?” Luke questioned.

Y/N quietly laughed. “Not many people notice all that about me… so if they do, I end up crying out of happiness.”

“Is this a yes to my confession?”

“It’s a maybe.”

“Good enough for me, Bella.”

Y/N sent him a confused look.

“You know, like Bella and Edward. Twilight, duh? How can you like to all the boys I’ve loved before and nor Twilight?”

Clarisse and Drew eagerly slapped their hands together while Silena fondly watched Y/N and Luke. She was happy for her half-sister because after all those years of pinning, Y/N finally got what she wanted.

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Love's Remedy ༓ jjk (m) l ch. II

✑ Summary: Jungkook is a romantic. He comes from a highly intelligent family who wants him to carry out the lineage. Being this way, he goes to college to be a pharmacist but his friends say college isn't just about studying! With a little persuasion, he goes to his first frat party thinking his hat will help him pick up a girl-or woman he means.

Pairing: STEM major!virgin!jungkook x STEM major!hot girl!reader

AU/genre: angst, smut, fluff, s2l, college au, mini-series

Rating: M, 18+

Word Count: 2,783

Warnings: angry koo, jealous koo, gym rat koo, thicc thighs koo, protective koo, kook checks his abs out, koo gets in a physical fight with an aggressive jerk that involves punching, name-calling (half pint, hermit crab, b*tch, Bambi, honeysuckle, kookie), mention of blood (minor), jk is very cute and determined towards oc, oc has philophobia (fear of relationships), oc has poor self-esteem, cussing, bit of crying...sorry lot of warnings this chapter

Now Playing: seven, summertime sadness, she’s kerosene, angels like you+

A/N: Yes, I'm aware this chapter is short, still Jungkook is shirtless in half of this and I am not sorry. This chapter also gets heavy but I hope you enjoy! 💞

<< ch. I ༓ ch. II >> | series masterlist

A week passes since the frat party and Jungkook hears nothing from you. He's reluctant to accept that you've likely already deleted his number but why else would you be radio silent? Why would someone like you ever be interested in a shy little nerd like him?

He's disappointed but when he gave you his number, it's not like he was expecting anything in return.

Well, he can’t stay hung up on you forever—he'll give you one more week. In the meantime, it’s 5 p.m and he’s off to do his daily lifting at the gym. He read somewhere online that evening is better for building strength, and that is exactly what he intends to do.

With a basic black tank top and gym shorts on, Jungkook scans the expanse of the facility. The place isn’t too crowded being that it’s nearly dinner time but it’s still moderate. He’s hoping Jackson will join him soon, considering they’re buddies now because isn’t that what guy friends do? Workout together?

When he makes his way to the weight room he quickly finds it's packed with guys double his size. Half of them look like they're upperclassmen while the other half is split between first-years like him and a small handful of women. He sheepishly strolls over to an empty pull-up bar, deciding to start with chin lifts.

Jungkook sets his water bottle on the ground, reaches for the handle, and lifts his body up until his chin is level with the bar, legs swing in the air slightly. He then extends his arms back out. The burn in his biceps feels good. He repeats the motion a few more times but has to stop when he hits six.

He takes a big swig of his water, already sweating evident from the tank top sticking to his back. The coolness of the water helps but between his own sweat and the sweat of others around him, Jungkook is tempted to throw his shirt off. Most of the men in the room aren’t wearing any more than shorts anyway so why can’t he?

Jungkook grasps the edges of his tank, pulling it up a little. How did his abs look? Were they good enough to show off? He’s working out diligently since 14 but he was still on the smaller side compared to the rest of his peers.

The mirror to his left helps him get a better look so he shifts his body over. When he does he catches a slight glimpse of a familiar face in the top right corner. Jungkook instantly drops his shirt, whipping his head around.

What were you doing in the weight room? And with some buff guy twice his size closely behind you? All he’s doing is staring at your ass in those tight purple shorts which so happens to have a matching crop top.

Jungkook scowls at the sight.

When you take a seat at one of the bench presses a couple of feet away, his eyes widen. The guy you came with stands behind your head as you lean back. He helps you set the barbell. It’s too far for Jungkook to hear what he’s telling you but he’s convinced it’s nothing good. Whoever this guy is he won’t stop grinning, and you’re grinning back!

You said you don’t do relationships. You said you'd think about going out with him. You said a lot of things but here you are with some guy that looks an awful lot like a boyfriend, how disgusting…

Fuck it.

Jungkook turns his eyes away from you, yanks his tank off, and grabs the pull-up bar again. He’s gonna knock ten of these out in one set.

Shoulder-width apart, he keeps a steady pace though he makes sure to take deep breaths to prolong his stamina. His eyes fixate on the back wall of the weight room to avoid you and your supposedly new boo from getting in his head.

Apparently, you just didn’t want him. It’s fine. Jungkook exhales. It’s all fine.

After three sets of chin-ups, Jungkook releases himself from the bar to check his phone. He takes another glug of his water too.

Jackson: hey Kook, I was planning to join you at the gym today but I got my family in town tonight. Man, it’s only been a week….can you believe they’re here to visit already?

Jungkook: Wow, all I’ve gotten from my family is a short text saying good luck. They must miss you a lot but yeah, it’s no problem. We can work out another time?

Jackson: You got it bro. Thank you for understanding 🙏🏼 Also, there’s a second thing 😬

Jungkook: ??

Jackson: I might have told my parents about you so are you free to get lunch with us tomorrow? My parents want to meet you. Our treat.

Jungkook: Really? Okay yeah. I’d love to meet them. Time?

Jackson: We don’t know yet but likely 1pm if that’s okay?

Jungkook: Sure, I’ll just be studying so. Text me when you know.

Jackson: I will. How’s the gym?

Jungkook hovers his thumbs over the keyboard. When he glances up to think, he’s reminded of your lingering presence. You’re no longer bench pressing anymore but instead doing a set of bent-over dumbbell rolls. With the way you’re torso’s angled, anyone who’s anyone has a direct view of your rear end. Any decent person would pay it no mind but that same douchebag next to you keeps gawking.

“It’s not meant to be a fucking sex position,” Jungkook mutters and types out a response. “Fucker.”

He makes his way to the black punching bag on the other side of the room, passing a strong glare at that young man as he nears the two of you. He doesn’t know his name but he’d really like to go over there and knee him in the balls. His eyes flicker at you for a moment, so pretty.

“The hell are you staring at my girl for half-pint?” The man calls Jungkook out in an aggressive stance. “Keep your eyes in front before I fuck you up.”

Frazzled, Jungkook scurries to move past the both of you with his head down. “Sorry, I didn’t mean anything.” He doesn’t get three steps before a solid form blocks his path.

“Who are you apologizing to? Your feet? Look me in the damn eye when you talk to me.”

“Jun-ho stop,” you come up beside the man, tugging at his arm. He yanks himself out of the grasp, however, jolting your body back. You nearly lose your balance.

“I’m just trying to teach this little hermit crab what happens when you stare at another man’s woman, baby.”

Jungkook clenches his fists as you struggle to re-stabilize yourself. You should not be with this asshole. He doesn’t deserve you, he doesn’t deserve to be calling you his baby. Who the fuck does he think he is shoving a woman like that.

“Don’t fucking call me that,” you spit. “I’m not your woman. Now leave Jungkook alone. He doesn’t need this.”

Jun-ho gives you a cocky smirk. “Oh? So he’s Jungkook huh? You know him too. You fucking him behind my back or something?” He takes a step towards you. Jungkook lunges forward seeing your obvious discomfort.

“Don’t touch her!” Jungkook stands between you and Jun-ho. He’s shaking so badly but he doesn’t budge. “Take another step and I’ll–I’ll–“

“You’ll pound me in the ground? You and what army? You can’t even talk.” He snorts and moves to toss Jungkook to the side. “Get out of my way.”

Jungkook feels the back of his neck heat with rage, his ears red and burning. There’s no way in hell he’s letting Jun-ho get to you.

“She told you to stop, so why don’t you just–fuck off!” Jungkook shoves Jun-ho back with as much force as he can. His body’s not built and his arm muscles aren’t as ripped but he’s got some big fucking thighs that manage to anchor him to the ground.

“You shit.” Jun-ho grits his teeth and punches Jungkook straight in the gut. Jungkook doubles over in agony. His hand clutches over his abdomen as he groans. You hurry in front of him but you’re thrown to the side by a pair of large hands. “Move bitch,” Jun-ho snaps, eyes bolstered on the smaller man.

“Hey, what the hell is going on over here?” The manager of the gym rushes over to the three of you. He grabs Jungkook and offers him support. “You can’t be doing this young man. You need to leave now.”

Jun-ho shakes his head. “Count yourself lucky this time Jungkook. Could have been a lot worse if it weren’t for this old man getting in the way.” He stares at the manager and then at you. “Come on __.”

“You’re fucking nuts if you think I’m coming with you. I’m staying with Jungkook.”

“No, you’re fucking not.” Jun-ho reaches for your arm until his head is knocked backward by a clean, punch to his jaw. “Fuck! You Fuck!” He holds his jaw, stumbling into a rack of dumbbells behind him.

Jungkook’s knuckles bleed as he holds his own wrist. He winces at the sharp throbbing and stinging from the punch. “Okay no more, no more,” the manager anxiously darts his eyes back and forth between him and Jun-ho. “I want you all out of my facility this instance.”

After being thrown out of the gym, Jungkook returns to his dorm room. He insists he takes care of his injury himself but it doesn’t sit well with you so you follow him.

“I’m so sorry about this Jungkook. Jun-ho’s a bastard.” You finish wrapping his knuckles in the elastic bandage then lean forward to place your hands on his shoulders. “Promise me you won’t ever do that again.”

Jungkook holds your pleading stare from his seated position. Your soft hands are simultaneously soothing and unsettling. He’s not mad at you for what happened at all. But seeing you with a jerk like Jun-ho when you rejected him, someone who’d never treat his girl like a piece of trash causes all kinds of knots inside him.

“You’re not going to see him again right? Because I can’t make that promise if you do.” His voice is low, nervous that you'll say yes.

Jungkook might not have personal relationship experience but he's witnessed his share of unhealthy relationship dynamics more times he'd like to count.

“Jungkook…” You muster up the best reassuring smile you can and tuck a few loose strands of his hair behind his ear. “Nothing's going to happen between me and Jun-ho anymore. We weren't anything serious. But you care too much about me, I’m not worth the trouble.”

Hearing this, he reaches a hand up to close over yours. “Please don’t say that. Everyone deserves to be cared for and as long as I can help it, I’ll be the first to do it.” His big, doting eyes search into yours. "And good, don't go back to him __. He's not the type of man you need."

"And what type of man do I need Bambi?" You stroke his puffy cheeks and quirk your head to the side inquisitively. Jungkook flinches at the touch.

"Bambi?"

"You didn't like it when I called you baby so, had to come up with something else."

"But." There's that pout again. Jungkook doesn't like being called a baby but when someone reaching this level of adorable, its so hard to shake. "But I just knocked a bitch out for you. How can you keep calling me baby names?"

The chuckle that leaves your lips is heaven to Jungkook's ears. "Aww Jungkook," you coo. "It's 'cause you're a little honeysuckle. So sweet to the taste." His ears perk up at that, gnawing on his bottom lip. "But if you want me to call you something else that might take some more time for me to figure out. Until then do tell me, what do I need?"

"Someone that'll protect you."

"Mhm, okay but—"

"Emotionally, physically, and mentally." Jungkook lists out loud. "That means someone to stand up for you, support you in the ways you need. Someone to help keep losers like Jun-ho out who only look out for themselves." He pauses, contemplating thoughtfully. "You need someone you can trust too. When you're sick you'll be taken care of and he'll never ever cheat on you. Even if you fight, he'll always stick by your side. You'll watch movies together, cuddle under the covers, and stargaze on summer nights. He'll also peel perilla leaves for you and love you until sunrise. Finally, when the time's right he'll ask to marry you, only if you want, of course."

Jungkook waits for you to give him a reply, a little breathless. He notices the distance between you and him somehow got larger. You're now about two feet away from him when you were only mere inches before.

"I'm sorry." He lowers his head. "It's silly I know. Everyone tells me I'm some kind of dreamer boy, just a hopeless romantic."

"It's not silly Jungkook." You soften your expression. "It's a beautiful idea and somewhere out there will gladly share those things with you. You'll live a full life together having all those wonderful experiences."

"Wanna have them with you though." His eyes flicker up at you. "I really like you __."

Oh no, no no no. You push down the pressure building from inside you. "No, I can't. I'm sorry Bambi, I want to but you don't know me." A small tear spills out of the corner of your eye. "I'm not able to....I can't love you like that."

Jungkook gets up from his chair and reaches for your trembling hand. You're tempted to pull back if it weren't for the fact that your hand feels warm in his.

"I can," he says. "I can love you if you let me."

You shake your head, and another hot tear rolls down your face. "Sorry, I don't know why I'm even crying." You quickly wipe your wet cheeks.

"You don't always need a reason. Sometimes it just happens and that's okay. I cry all the time when I'm by myself." Jungkook grabs your other hand slowly. "Just wanna be here for you."

You blink back the remaining tears welling in your eyes. You're embarrassed this is happening at all. Jungkook is the sweetest, most kind-hearted, and most selfless person you know. He shouldn't have to be dealing with any of this.

"If we can't go out, is it okay that we are friends?"

"I don't want to do that to you Kookie."

"Hey, I like that one," he says with a lifted voice.

"You do? I didn't even think about it like the others."

"You were thinking about me?" He bounces in the air a little, at least that's what it looks like to you by the sudden rush of energy Jungkook responds with. He likes knowing you've been paying attention to him, even if only a smidge.

You dart your eyes past him, fingers curling in his hand. "Well I mean..." Jungkook waits intently. "I guess...yes, some."

"Oh please __, please let me take you out. We don't even have to call it a date."

"You're too persistent, you know that?"

"But is it working?"

"I'm not ready yet Jungkook." His shoulders slouch and he opens his mouth to say something though you continue before he can get anything out. "To give you an answer. I'm not ready to give you an answer yet is what I'm trying to say."

"Well, that's okay. You wanna think about it longer? We can four years until graduation."

"You're such a goof, you'd wait that long for an answer?"

Jungkook shakes his head. "No, I'd wait that long for you." He pauses. "Okay maybe I have been watching one too many Korean dramas. Even I threw up in my mouth a little."

Too both share a laugh, this is the weirdest, emotionally exhausting day ever. "Thank you for what you did today with Jung-ho. And for trying to comfort me. Will you possibly be able to wait another week? If it's too long you can tell me. I've made you wait long enough."

"A week from now, let's meet up okay? Or call at least. Even if it's a no, I don't want this to be the last time I get to see or hear you."

"Okay." You nod. "I promise."

And that was the end of that night, as Jungkook walks you to your dorm soon after. It was getting dark out after all.

A/N: tysm for reading! Lmk what you think and if you wan to be tagged comment/ask 💞

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[vasiktomis]

Overqualified (Choso x F!Reader, 18+)

Summary: A series of vignettes over the course of which you decide you're actually pretty cool with the idea of giving Choso head.

Rating: Explicit (Minors do NOT interact). Word Count: ~7300. Tags/Warnings: Female Pronouns and Anatomy for Reader, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, First Time Blow Jobs, Social Anxiety, Vomiting (not part of the sex stuff I swear but icks are icks), Angst, Misunderstandings, Oral Sex, Mentions of Non-Con but No Descriptions. Canon-variant, nobody’s dead, everyone’s fine etc etc. Read it on Ao3 Here!

“You’re kidding, right?”

You’re all too familiar with how curses wear their expressions when they become powerful enough to learn to make them. 

In your line of work — at the level you’ve risen to — you’re often stuck with the ones that take human form. The ones that learn to mimic sounds and words and mannerisms. You’ve watched time and time again, the intelligence that forms in First and Special-grades that allows them to appear so convincingly human in such a short period of time. You learned the hard way early in your career, what it’s like to fall for the act and take pity on a curse. You’ve lost kind people to the trap of sentiment. 

You became wise to it; despite all that intelligence that came with such a degree of power, curses bore an unquenchable drive to harm humans.

You learned to see through the pleading. The crying. High-level curses learning to comprehend terror changes nothing. When you despatch them, it changes nothing. No matter how they beg for mercy, the instinct to kill you never ceases. 

It’s in their eyes, you learn.

It’s in his eyes, when the remaining students and teachers at Shibuya bring him home to Jujutsu High. A Death Painting Womb. A half-curse. You don’t need to hear the human half of it. Your mind’s made up the moment they put you in the same room as him, ordered in spite of all your protests not to kill him where he stands. He won’t harm the Itadori kid, you’re assured. The kid is safe with him. 

Choso.

You can’t even believe he’s got a name.

He sticks to the boy’s side, insisting their blood-relation while he glances about his environment with baby-fresh eyes. He’s a curse in the way he takes in information. Everything is new. Every emotion he feels borders on fresh.

Brow knitted. Jaw set. The dozens of little muscles around his mouth tighten. His eyes don’t blink for their minutes of fixation. Not until his attention is called away and Itadori leaves the room, beckoning him to follow. 

It’s in his eyes. You won’t be fooled.

He watches you like he wants to kill you.

_________________________________

Your orders keep you from destroying Choso. They force you to co-exist with your guard consistently up, and as the weeks draw on, your exhaustion builds. You manage to steer clear of him for a good month before Tsukumo weighs in with a surprisingly high opinion of him. Drinking buddies? Fuck off. That’s your job. You’re not going to be muscled out of your place at her side.

You’re confident in her opinion, of course. But it doesn’t change yours. Weakened resolve be damned — there’s no way you’re letting yourself be in the same room as him again.

…

Still, you suppose it couldn’t hurt humouring her suggestions for you to tolerate him. It’s not like you need to do much more than that. If somehow you turn out to be wrong and she starts buying free rounds for a curse instead of you, you wouldn’t be able to live with yourself. 

It’s a rainy day lunchtime when you force yourself to approach the man, holding your lunch tray over your torso in the event he makes a jab for your internal organs as you join the line. 

He glances at you once. Twice. Aborting a too-late attempt to reach for a rice bowl when you snatch one from the warmer and take a step forward to force him along.

Fear. Good. He’s learned fear. 

Your tongue readies in your mouth. Your throat runs dry. 

“Shitty weather.” You manage.

His head whips around. Eyes bug out of his skull as he turns to regard you. There’s that clench in his jaw again. 

Choso does not respond. His posture changes, dipping down. Momentarily, you ready yourself for an attack, flinching to keep yourself from countering when he makes a sudden lurch for as many items he can reach. Shoving them onto his tray. Half a cup of steaming miso soup spills into his sleeve as he reels back and around you, storming out of the line without a word. 

You eat your lunch at the window. Watching as he eats his on a step in the pouring rain, glaring into the middle-distance. 

He must know you’re onto him.

_________________________________

The weeks drag on. Somehow, it feels simultaneously like your every move on campus grounds is watched by the half-curse while your every attempt to observe him close up is met with a hurried getaway. 

By social means, Choso develops quickly. He still spends most of his time by Itadori’s side, but he begins to branch out. Much to your chagrin, the staff warm to him, too.

It isn’t long until they have the kid hooked up to you, much like Nanami’s old role before his run-in with the disaster curses knocked enough sense into him to go part-time. It pissed you off the first you hear about it; it had to be Choso’s doing. He must have known that you’d had it out for him and he was going to try his luck separating you from your peers after gaining Itadori’s trust.

You knew it. He was plotting to kill you.

Then, you find out that it was Itadori who’d requested you as a mentor, and the wind gets knocked out of your sails pretty fast. 

It starts with a “Teacher!” Bellowed across the walkway. You’re hunched over, sipping from a faulty water fountain that the students seem to find great entertainment shoving twigs into to mess with the pressure. You know the kid’s voice well enough that embarrassment creeps up the back of your neck. 

You straighten out, wiping your mouth on your sleeve, angling to look a little less lame after being caught at the mercy of a shitty fountain. “Itadori.” You greet the approaching boy. The only acknowledgement you offer his company is in your periphery. Were it not so rude, you’d close one eye so that you only have to look at the kid while you regard them. “Looks like you’re my new protege.”

There’s a pause.

Itadori looks between you and Choso, waiting for the two of you to exchange your own greetings. 

It doesn’t happen.

More and more, Choso watches you with those unblinking eyes. Your focus is drawn. Minutely, you realise, he’s trembling. 

“You — you know! It occurred to me that you haven’t properly met my half-brother.” Itadori ventures to break the ice. “Figured it would be nice for you two to know one another if we’re going to be learning from you.”

We’re.

You’re not a two-for-one deal. You never agreed to help train a curse. 

“You don’t say.” You mutter, finally meeting Choso’s eye. Alright, then. Just because you like the kid, you’ll humour him. “Hey.”

There’s no answer. Not right away. Not until there’s an elbow nudging at Choso’s ribs. His adam’s apple bobs in a visible gulp. 

“H-“

That’s all he manages before a mouthful of bile sprays out of his mouth. He has good reaction time, you’ll give him that. But it doesn’t help his cause. It just spills between his fingers as he tries to cover his face. You’d liken it to placing one’s thumb over a garden hose.

Itadori, meanwhile, springs into a panicked attempt to get between the two of you, shielding Choso from view with his body. “Haha! Okay! Great, so we’ll be seeing you!” He exclaims, alternating between leading his doubled-over brother back the way they came and waving at you. 

Once again, you watch. Once again, perplexed. 

“That was good, but it could have gone better. Next time, don’t throw up, okay?”

Anxiety vomiting.

Huh.

You’ll admit — this is a first. 

_________________________________

Okay, maybe he’s not so bad.

Sure, he can hardly formulate a sentence around you, but at least the lack of interjection makes it easier to focus on Itadori’s development. Is Choso’s presence a constant irritation? Absolutely, but not unlike his little brother, you grow accustomed to his presence. That’s not to say that you’d ever grow to care for him to the same extent you do Itadori. In fact, the only reason you keep your trap shut about having him along for the ride is for the kid’s sake. 

One thing that does start to irk you, however — even moreso than being stuck with a half-fucking-curse in your downtime, is how quickly Choso develops an opinion on your teaching style.

Rather, how critical he becomes of it. 

First, there’s a huff. A sharp exhale out his nose marking disdain when you call Itadori back to rest. It builds from there. Pointed looks. Scoffs. A subtle rolling of his eyes when you snap at the kid to watch his blind spots over the passing weeks.

You’re sure you might end up killing him unprompted at this rate. 

“You ought to praise him more.” Is the first full sentence he manages to get through when you’re alone with him. Itadori has left the two of you alone in a booth at CoCo Curry to excuse himself to the bathroom, and Choso jumps at the opportunity to level his criticism at you.

It’s a miracle he’s even speaking to you at all, you think at first.

Then, once you’ve registered what he’s said, you think it’s a miracle you managed to refrain from bringing your spoon down through his hand.

“Excuse me?” You seethe. “For your information, he does this every time. He always picks extra hot. He always empties the shaker when it gets brought out. He’s always shocked when he has to run off and shit himself before he’s halfway done.”

“I know that. His courage is unmatched.” Choso bites back, twisting in his seat to face you. “That’s not what I’m talking about. You’re too harsh on him in training.”

Where is all this bravery coming from all of a sudden? Is this really how protective he gets around the kid?

How misplaced. How sentimental. If you weren’t a sorcerer you might be moved by what comes off as brotherly affection.

You won’t  fall for it. 

A snarl curls at your lip. “Where do you get off, talking to me? You wanna give me life advice next? Wanna apply for my job? How many months have you been living outside a test tube, huh?”

“I’m only talking to you because I’m looking out for him.” He glares.

“Yeah, you and me both.” You dismiss him. “Look. I’ve got big shoes to fill. Itadori’s last mentor was hard on him. He’s closer to that guy than I could ever hope to be, but at least I know he listens to me when I boss him around. I’d rather the kid be covering his bases and coming home to me alive, than letting too much praise to go his head and getting him killed."

Choso doesn’t reply for a moment. His gaze remains hard, bottom jaw jutting out like a petulant kid. After a moment, he breaks away, redirecting his glare down at his emptied bowl. 

“He respects you a lot. He looks up to you.” The man mumbles, crossing his arms and sinking down in the booth. “Please praise him.”

The two of you sit in stubborn silence for the better part of half an hour, until your student returns from the bathroom with an exhilarated huff. You can practically see the stink lines radiating off him.

“Whew!” The kid exclaims, throwing himself down beside Choso. “Aw man, my food’s probably cold.”

Yeah, whose fault is that. 

“Hey. Itadori.” You grumble, earning the kid’s attention.

“Hm?” He perks up, mouth full. 

“You did well today.”

You’ve turned your attention to the menu, scouring a drinks menu you’re far too full to even consider ordering.

In your periphery, Choso sits up a little.

_________________________________

You don’t make a secret of where you live. In the Jujutsu world, generally speaking (with Tsukumo being an enigmatic exception), the more secretive one tries to be about their lifestyle, the more curious it makes everyone else. You watched Nanami learn this the hard way after his return to the job and the sheer effort he put in for a while there to ensure no one knew how to contact him outside of work hours.

Of course, everyone wound up with his landline number and personal address whether any of you visit him of not. 

It helps, having everyone generally know where they stand with you, anyway. ‘Emergencies only’ tends to be your rule. Approachable on campus and on the street, but home time is home time. Only show up if you’re in need of help. Or if you’re bringing free stuff.

So imagine your surprise when you open your front door and find Choso of all people, not at eye-level, but on his knees at your feet, forehead stamped to the doormat.

“What the fu-“

“Forgive me.” The man’s voice wobbles. He doesn’t move from the bow. You take the opportunity to look right. Left. Right again. Scanning for Itadori to come bounding over to escort him away from you once more.

Today, Choso is alone, but the thought of being attacked by him has dimmed to embers by now. You’ll chide yourself for it later, you think. 

Right now, you’re more concerned with not drawing too much attention from the neighbours. 

“Woah. Hey.” You crouch down. Choso flinches at your fingertips brushing his shoulder blade, but he doesn’t withdraw. Once again, he just starts trembling. 

Man, he really is the sensitive sort.

He better not throw up again. Not while you’re close enough to be in the firing line. 

“Forgive me.” Choso repeats. “I’ve been rude to you. I’ll try harder from now on. Let me redeem myself.”

“Okay! Okay, you’re forgiven, you’re redeemed. Now would you get up? I wipe my feet on that mat.” You hiss, tugging at his sleeve. This time, he gets the hint, getting to his feet and regarding you with an expression resembling hopeful and a patch of grit on his forehead. 

In spite of all the confusion, you’ll admit, he’s cute. In a — born sexy yesterday  kind of way.

In spite of yourself, you tug at his sleeve, taking the opportunity to rub the crap off his head. “Come inside before people get the wrong idea. You want a drink?”

“No, I’d throw up again.”

“It’s not that I don’t appreciate your candor…—“ You trail, gesturing for him to take a seat on your couch. He does as instructed, scanning your apartment from left to right, committing it to memory. “Do I freak you out that much?”

Choso doesn’t mince his words. He isn’t learned enough quite yet to beat around the bush. Maybe he might not be the type, regardless. “Yes.” He nods, avoiding your gaze in favour of staring at your reflection on the TV screen. “You have every right to feel uncomfortable around me, but I want your permission to be honest.”

Frowning, you incline your head in acknowledgement. 

It’s almost like it’s the answer he didn’t want. All of a sudden, he’s not even capable of looking at your reflection. He seats himself on your couch and rubs his thumb into his palm. Holding his own hand. “I have awful feelings toward you.”

Something pricks at the base of your skull. Your eyebrows shoot up. Is this finally it? Is this your moment of vindication? Is he finally going to admit he wants to kill you?

“How awful are we talking?” You prod.

”Terrible.”

Your gaze flits around the living room for something to imbue, just in the event that he does pounce. “Uhhh, go on. I’m listening.”

“Looking at you makes me queasy.”

You abort an attempt to reach for your shark-grabber, reconsidering its promotion from TV remote reaching. “Harsh.”

“Were it not for the possibility of disappointing Yuji, I don’t know how else I’d be capable of controlling it. If I hurt you, he’d never speak to me again.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re trying to put a lid on it—“

“You’ve been putting in a lot of effort to tolerate me just so you can help make sure Yuji is okay, and I haven’t given you the same kindness. You’re good to him. It intimidates me.”

Okay, this is taking a weird turn-

“—I just can’t stop thinking about you.”

…

Heat creeps up your neck and into your ears.

“Oh.” You breathe, chest tightening as the realisation dawns on you. 

Ohh, you get it now. Despite the deviation, Choso looks guilty enough that he may as well have admitted to wanting to kill you after all. 

You swallow your pride, sitting down beside him on the couch. “You have a crush on me.”

His brow furrows. There’s that stare again. “I’m sorry. I’m not sure how to handle it. I don’t know what I should do.”

This whole time, it wasn’t aggression he’s been dealing with.

It was attraction.

“It’s okay.” You assure him for once, orbiting a fine line between emotional whiplash, awkwardness, and flattered sort of accomplishment. “You don’t need to do anything. People get crushes, it’s normal.”

People. It’s a person thing. There’s nothing cursed to it. Guilt pools in your gut. Just how nasty have you been toward the guy? Of course you’ve been freaking him out; he’s been catching up with the world this whole time and all you’ve done is make things harder on him.

And he still holds you in high enough regard to seek guidance from you, despite how embarrassing this must be?

“So what do I do?”

It’s not like there’s much of a choice. It’s not like you’ve really analysed your own feelings toward this man beyond bare tolerance at best — but you owe it to him to be sensible. You owe it to him to be a little more merciful than you would, even to a full-blooded human. Were he another sorcerer, you’d probably tell him to fuck off. Stop wasting your time. But he’s trusting you with a first that’s been torturing him.

He’s handsome, sure — but you don’t even know if you’re capable of trusting him not to end your life despite all he’s said. A single conversation can’t undo everything you’ve learned to feel.

“Well, if you wanna spare us both the discomfort, you could try asking another dude about how to handle it.” You suggest, casually as you can muster. “Not your teenage brother. Find an adult.”

Choso nods. You sense his tongue shifting behind his teeth. Considering asking why not you? But he seems to realise the implications by sheer instinct. The kind of conversation he needs to have can’t be with you. Not without altering your relationship before it can even find its feet. 

“Yeah.” He agrees, not quite able to hold eye contact with you for more than a few seconds at a time. “I’ll do my best.”

You’re getting sick of this. You’ve never heard such sincerity in your life. 

Oh, fine. 

You offer him a smile. Another first.

You’d fuck him.

_________________________________

You could never get sick of this.

“Saved you a spot.” Choso’s platforms lift off the seat beside him before you have a chance to notice the half-dozen empty alternatives. You do, however, become painfully aware that you’d been on your way to sit beside him anyway. There are plenty of alternatives. Years-long professional and personal relationships scattered all around the room, but your recent months with this one in particular have made him a begrudging favourite.

“Yeah, yeah.” You grumble, slumping down with a huff.

He’s been ten times easier to handle since your little deep-and-meaningful. As much as you hate to admit it, he’s actually been kind of a cool guy to hang around. 

As much as you hate to admit it, you can’t help but indulge in the idea that it’s probably all the jerking off he’s likely been doing. Nevertheless, as far as your increasing curiosity imagines, he hasn’t broached the topic with you since. 

“Bring my Kagome?” Choso asks, prompting you to hand him your bag to search through.

“Didn’t miss anything, did I?” You ask.

“Competition’s started, but no one’s made contact yet.” Utahime answers from up front, not bothering to break away from the screens showcasing the exchange event’s progress.

Beside her, Gojo sinks further into his seat. His head lolls against the arm rest. “It’s so boring in here with you lot. Hey, Utahime, why don’t you embarrass yourself for everyone’s entertainment?“

The ensuing squabbling is quickly dulled to you as Choso hands your bag back, stabbing a straw into the juicebox he’s withdrawn. Both of you watch the screens, looking for your protege in particular. 

“Yuji’s trying to group up with the other Tokyo kids.” Choso mentions, fingers brushing yours without flinching when you hand the box back after he offers.

“He knows he doesn’t have to do that, right?”

”Depends on how bored he gets on his own.”

Your comment causes Gojo’s head to dip back, angling his attention at you. His mouth opens, but no sound escapes him. 

His attention shifts to the side of you. 

“Hey, why does he get a juice?”

“Pipe down and watch the competition!” Utahime barks at him. Curiosity draws her attention up and back to you, however, gaze dropping to the drink in Choso’s hand. “Hey — is that berry salad?”

“Berry salad!” Gojo whines. “C’mon, share.”

You watch in your periphery as Choso leans forward, and the two up front stretch out an arm each. Gojo’s spindly limbs have poor Utahime beat, but Choso carries the prize just barely out of the man’s reach.

He holds it out to you instead.

You don't even mind that half the sip is backwash. It's nice being the favourite of your favourite.

One of these days you really ought to blow him.

_________________________________

The doorbell rings.

Habit has conditioned you to expect Choso at your door. When you open it, however, you’re made aware of two surprises: a plummeting excitement that had no right building in the first place that the person bowing at your front step isn’t the man in question, and secondly, that it’s his brother, your protege that stands in his place.

“Oh, for the love of-“

“Teacher!” Itadori exclaims, bent from the hip at a perfect right-angle. “Please date my brother!”

…

What the hell is wrong  with this family?

Your throat closes on itself as you claw for a response that doesn’t involve punching this poor child in the back of his head. “Wha—! Who told you I — get off my property!” You bark, heat flushing your ears.

“I thought you rented.” Itadori straightens, confusion tugging an eyebrow up.

“That’s beside the point.”

Then he’s dropping right back down again. “Please date Choso!”

Choso. What’s he been telling the kid? Did he go back on his word and seek relationship advice from a teenager? Is he trying to kill you after all?

“What gives?!” You snarl down at him. “I’m your mentor! Would you pull this kinda shit with Nanami?”

“To be fair, Nanami is the one person I wouldn’t pull this with.” Itadori protests, holding his hands up in defense. “Date my brother!” 

“Agh!” With that, you slam the door on the kid. “Learn some damn respect! Jeez, I’m starting to get where Utahime’s coming from.”

There’s a grumble behind the wood. A defeat well-picked.

“Fine. See you tomorrow.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose. “Yeah, yeah. Think about what you want for lunch.”

_________________________________

The moment you wrap the training day and send the kid on his way, you snatch at Choso’s sleeve before he can shuffle off after his brother. “What the hell did you tell him!”

The man flinches at your touch. He frowns hard. “I didn’t tell him anything.” He grunts back, shrugging uncomfortably away from you. “You told me not to. Why are you mad?”

“Don’t jump to calling women angry. It’s anti-feminist.”

It doesn’t immediately occur to you that with just yourself and Tsukumo being the only adult women Choso knows, he probably hasn’t had much interaction with the women’s rights movement. Nevertheless, he runs with it.

“Okay. You’re not mad.”

“I am  mad! Why’s your little brother knocking on my door telling me to go out with you, huh?”

“What?!” Choso whips around, regarding you with terror. “Yuji?! I only talked to Ino-“

Your fist collides with your palm. “Ino!”  You seethe, content to settle on such a target, at least until Choso taps his index fingers together. Almost…like he’s counting. 

“— and he gave me some advice, but he couldn’t help me with one question I had. So I asked Ijichi, but he didn’t have an answer for me, either. So then I asked Tsukumo, and she couldn’t —“

Great, just great, you think, zoning out while the man continues to list off the names of almost every adult you interact with on a regular basis — the entire faculty staff and beyond know. Serves you right for trusting any one of those jackasses to keep a secret from a child.

You relent, if not at his sincerity, then at least just to escape the roll-call. “Okay. It’s fine. It’s all right. We’ll figure it out.” You sigh. “In any case, did you get an answer for your question?”

Choso pauses. Averts his gaze. “No. Well, Nanami gave me an answer he said works, but it’s not something I want to do.”

“…Can I help?” You offer.

“You said-“

“I know, but you’ve exhausted your other options.”

The look on his face is nothing short of defeated. You are not  the person he wanted to have to ask. 

“Can I take a raincheck?” Choso asks.

You touch a hand to his arm, an assurance of support. After how many months of progress, he shifts away from contact for a second time today.

Months ago, you would have felt relieved by such a rejection; now, it pools hollow and worrisome in your gut.

Something’s changed. 

“Yeah. It’s fine.” You lie. 

_________________________________

Weeks pass. It feels like an eternity.

You’re beginning to adjust to walking just yourself home again.

Choso seems to make himself scarce in your life what ever way he can, and where he can’t, he puts as much distance between himself and you as possible. He doesn’t look at you anymore. He doesn’t speak to you. You’re not the sort to reach out; you’re plenty used to people disappearing from your life without a trace — but this feels different. 

There’s no one to remind to take their big stupid giant shoes off at the step when you enter your flat.

It’s quiet. Lonesome, a needier person might call it.

Had you not convinced yourself this was something you’d wanted from the start, you’d confront him about it. Ask him why he’s avoiding you — but what would that fix?

What would you hope to get out of closure? 

You should be relieved that he’s lost interest in you. You should be over the moon that he ejects from conversations entirely upon your arrival. That he stands up and moves to the opposite side of the room should you put yourself in an empty seat beside him. 

Your life is no longer haunted by his gawking presence. Itadori shows up alone to his training sessions, and were you not hell-bent on putting on a show of relief at Choso’s absence to the rest of the world, you’d stoop to asking the kid what the hell was going on. 

As little as you can convince yourself any longer, you’ve got to convince the rest of the world. 

You don’t give a shit.

Pulling the fridge door open, you pull a juice box out of your bag and place it back on the shelf you’d plucked it from this morning.

Yeah. You’re fine. You’re great, actually. 

You don’t even fucking like berry salad. 

_________________________________

“How do I stop?”

You stare at the man in your doorway, halfway caught between dumbfounded and furious.

He stares back, refusing to elaborate for you.

“Are you kidding me? You haven’t spoken to me in months-“

“You promised me I could take a raincheck.” Choso says. “I’ve tried everything. Tell me how to make it stop.”

You should turn him away. You should say something awful and hurt him. Make him think twice before daring to get under someone’s skin the way he did yours.

A muscle in Choso’s jaw tenses. That would’ve been all it took, and you hate yourself for that much — but then he hits you with a staggered, weak little: “Please.”

“Make what—…ugh.” You relent, stepping aside to let him pass. “Shoes.”

He’s already stepping out of them, padding through your hallway on his way to the kitchen out of sheer habit.

“Don’t even think  about taking a Kagome.”

There’s a grunt. The fridge door closes. 

Choso’s stepping back into the living room when you’ve caught up with him. “I’m…really sorry.” He fiddles with his hands, shrinking into himself under the heat of your scrutiny. “I’ve—…missed talking to you.”

“Yeah, well I haven’t.” You snap. His gaze hits the floor, and guilt threatens to well in your throat. “I’m angry you ghosted me, okay?”

“I was trying to take Nanami’s advice.” He mumbles.

”Nanami.”

“But it hasn’t worked.“ The man continues, ignoring your targeted rage. “I asked him how I can stop feeling how I feel about you, and he told me to stay away, but I can’t, and I don’t know how to stop, and I know how sad it’s making you, but I can’t—“

You snap out of your haze at the wobble in the man’s voice, finding him clutching at his own sleeves, a futile endeavour at self-soothing. For just a moment, his gaze locks to yours.

Fuck, you’ve missed him looking at you. How sad is that.

“Why do you want to stop?” You ask, and all of a sudden he can’t look you in the eye again. “Did I do something to make you upset?”

“Because you don’t want it.” He explains, frustration mounting. “Everything I’ve read, everything I’ve watched, it’s not one-sided. In real life, with you — it’s only me. It makes-…it makes me feel terrible.” A pit forms in your stomach as he goes on. “Do you know how me and my siblings exist? Through my mother’s suffering.”

...

Oh, fuck.

You’ve been so stupid.

How could you have not thought this through? Choso’s a sensitive guy even without the nature of his existence coming into play, and your most rational thought when he came to you with this problem was to save your own embarrassment and throw him at porn?

The only prior understanding he’s had of sexuality is forced procreation.

All this time you’ve been torturing him, throwing him under the bus. Putting the entire responsibility for his interest in you onto him, without him even understanding any of it. You’ve been leading him along under the impression that you’re not interested, that you detest him, and while that might have been true at the start— 

“I don’t want to feel the way my father might have felt about my mother.” Choso admits. “I don’t want to want someone who doesn’t want me back.”

“You’ve got it wrong.” You manage. “You’re not bad for wanting me. There’s nothing I don’t like about that.” 

Your words fall on deaf ears. He’s already far too swept up in his own thoughts to hear you. 

“Choso.”  You speak firmly, and you’re not sure if it’s the tone you take or his own catastrophising, but you’ve never seen him look more afraid of you than he does right now. “It’s not the same, I promise you. That’s not how it works. I know you won’t hurt me.”

“But it does hurt you.” Choso insists, snatching at your shoulders like he's trying to snap you out of a stupor. “I see how much it bothers you. I don’t want to make you suffer.”

Your brow knits. Maybe if you weren’t such a pussy about all this you’d admit to him that the hurt of his absence has by far beaten any negative feelings brought about by having him around. 

“You treat my brother so well.” He offers, solemnly. “You tolerate me for his sake. It makes me feel so selfish — I want Yuji to be happy and continue to learn from you — but if you choose not to train him anymore because of me, then I  won’t be able to be near you anymore either. I can’t stay away from you, but I can’t bear to make you carry the burden of knowing how I feel about you. So please, tell me how I can stop.”

"I don't want you to stop." You blurt. This time, you're the one incapable of meeting his eye. Instead, you scowl at the wrap over his chest, doing your best not to get swept up in reuniting with the scent of him. "I'm sorry for making you go through this by yourself. I hate that I drove you away and made you feel like this. You can do what you want, but you need to know that what you're going through isn't bad. It's human."

Choso tentatively runs the fabric of your shirt between his fingers. Not quite touching you. Closing your proximity all the while. You feel his breath. You feel his warmth.

“It’s nothing like that,” You promise, “because I think the same of you.”

Then, you feel the fucker smirk down at you. "Yeah, yeah, I get the picture."

"Shut up. I'm trying."

His gaze flits between your eyes and your mouth, no doubt running through the natural course of events he’s been studying in whatever material the others have had him watch. His head dips, catching your attention, and then ever lower, nose almost brushing yours.

“You’re sure.” He breathes. 

You answer by covering the distance, ghosting your lips against his. Choso’s body stiffens, leaning into you in what he must assume is how he should reciprocate. You quell the insecurity, sliding your fingers down his arm before you find your balance with a palm pressed to his chest. He’s too inexperienced to take the cue, but he’s smart enough to break away with a questioning look. The blood mark across his nose has altered its shape. Not quite as straight as it once was.

“You can touch me. I want you to.” You murmur, tugging the bands out of his hair one at a time. “I’ll like it.”

The blood mark stretches over Choso’s cheeks. A hollow breathe escapes him just as he pulls you against him in another kiss, long arms wrapping firmly around your waist. He’s clearly inexperienced, but he's a quick learner. He follows your lead, mimicking your motions. Large hands drift over your ribcage. Pawing at your waist. Then, the moment your tongue slips over Choso’s bottom lip, he’s holding your hips just shy of his own. 

“You’re sure.”

His pupils are dilated beyond belief as he holds you at bay, lacking the willpower to keep from allowing you to push back into his grasp just a little, just enough to feel a burgeoning erection jutting against your stomach.

His hairties roll onto your wrist. Your fingers toy with his locks, gathering on his shoulders. “I think,” You smile up at him, “You should show me what you’ve been learning.”

Something in him snaps. His mouth is back on yours in a heartbeat, florid, hands yanking you in against his body. A ragged hum spills from his throat as you respond in kind, snatching at his cowl, breaking away from him just to untie the thing and pulling it off over his head.

Choso isn’t much of a talker. Not yet, at least. Not while so much of his concentration is on making up for lost time exploring you. For the moment, you have to find satisfaction in pulling wordless sounds from him, learning where he’s most sensitive. His ribcage. His throat. His hipbones. It’s not until your fingertips graze his cock through his pants that he musters a breathy little ”fuck—“

His weight braces against you naturally, chasing more, confidence growing. He spends a particularly long moment squeezing your ass before he hurriedly shifts his attention — just pointed enough to have you noting that he might already be figuring out his favourites.

When Choso’s fingers paw at your tits, though — a favourite of your own — you can’t help the little noise that escapes you.

He draws back. Pupils constricted. Blood mark tightening across his face. Sensing competition.

Not today, you affirm silently, walking the man backward until his legs hit the couch and he falls into a sit. You follow, sinking to your knees between his, palms resting on his thighs.

“Won’t you?” You ask sweetly, angling for a look akin to innocent, watching Choso gulp at the sight.

“Won’t I wh-what…” He stammers. So much for competition.

Your fingers curl into the fabric of his pants. You don’t take your eyes off him. “Show me.”

Choso takes a moment, considering your words in total silence. Then, with a shuddering breath, he’s fumbling with his underclothes, juban tugging up out of the way. Flashing his lower stomach as he busies himself with pulling his cock out of his pants. You find yourself vaguely scandalised at the sight. You’ve scarcely seen more of Choso than his arms. The flat of his stomach feels oddly intimate.

His cock is just as pale as his fingers. He slowly, steadily pulls his foreskin up, though his grip conceals him for the most part, much to your disappointment. When he draws back, you lean in insistently, ignoring a little shiver on his part at how close your face gets. Colour gathers on the delicate tip, much like the hue of his eyelids. Choso draws up again, and you find your mouth running dry at the glimmer of a tiny drop of pre-cum, at least before it gets swept away by his fingers.

“If you wanted to watch so bad, you should’ve asked.” He mutters, tone chastising — yet undermined by the flush blotting his neck, and again, you make a note. He’s going to be bratty once he gets the hang of this.

“Maybe if you’d been nice about it-“

“Are you gonna let me blow you, or what?” You interject.

Choso goes silent. Eyes wide. You’d think you’d gone too far if he hadn’t immediately relinquished his grip.

You waste no time replacing his hand with your own, balancing his cock between your fingers, tipping it toward you as you shimmy closer, nudging his knees further apart.

The flat of your tongue presses to the tip, and you grin at the way his whole body seems to flinch. A hum vibrates in his chest. Flagging permission to keep going. He can handle it. You don’t have to be content with just a taste.

Your mouth envelops his cock, and Choso grips hard  at the cushion beneath him. He stops making noise altogether as your lips venture mid-way, holding his breath while you pause to run your tongue against the underside. Then, when you hollow your cheeks and pull back up, a ragged sound escapes his throat. Pre-cum spurts over your tastebuds. So much so that you’re worried he might already be done for. Waiting another moment brings nothing else, but he probably needs a moment regardless.

Sitting back on your heels, you check in, poising your wettened lips just shy of the head. Choso looks like he’s on the verge of tears. It isn’t helped by the rorschach blotting of the blood mark dripping down his cheeks like drenched mascara.

“You okay?” You check in. “You need to stop?”

“No!” He yips, sitting up, bordering outraged. It takes a moment for him to register the smile on your face as a taunt. That you’re not serious about backing out.

All the same, if you didn’t have him pinned to the couch right now, you’re sure he’d be bowing at your feet again.

“Keep going. I can take it.”

Your hand works him slowly from base to tip, squeezing out another clear, oozing droplet. You smear it back and forth over your lips, and Choso’s head dips back against the couch, scrunching his eyes shut. Poor thing. As fun as it is teasing him, you owe it to him to at least get him off.

“Just relax.” You murmur, licking your lips, brushing your tongue around the head of his cock and waiting for a minute nod on his part before continuing on. Sinking down, you take him deeper with each bob of your head, building into a steady, consistent rhythm so as not to catch him off-guard. You want to draw this out as long as possible for him. You want him at your door again, at your feet, begging you for more.

You want to be the only one he wants doing this to him.

There’s no helping a swallow on your part when he nudges the back of your throat one too many times, though, and Choso gasps like he’s dying. His posture curls, instinctively trying to find purchase on something that isn’t just the couch. His cock twitches in your mouth, and you go still.

He’s on the brink, but you’re convinced you can work just a bit more out of him with a little patience.

Choso’s hands come to hover over your head. You don’t have the ability right now to tell him you’d be fine with having his grip guide you, and without that go-ahead, he’s not taking his chances. He’s far too considerate to do that.

So he just sits there, letting himself suffer, not quite sure what to do with himself beyond entrusting that part to you.

Once his muscles have relaxed enough, signalling his body’s retreat from the orgasm that had been building, you deem it safe to resume. Starting slow and shallow once again, you earn yourself a frustrated groan.

That’s more like it. The nerves are settling. He wants  to cum, now.

You can’t help but go back on your word, just a little. You can’t help but taunt him, pulling back to suck on just the head until his fingernails are digging into his palms. Choso’s hips judder, threatening to buck up into your mouth and taking a conscious effort to be stilled. His breaths push and pull through gritted teeth, and fine, it might be time to give the poor guy a break.

Choso all but cries out when you take him all the way in again, stifling an instinctual gag when another spurt of pre-cum hits your overworked throat. You don’t let up, for his sake. His breaths come short and sharp. His cock swells on your tongue, leaking pitifully in sync with an equally pitiful sound in his chest.

“I—“ He whimpers, voice wobbling, “I’m gonna—“

There’s no curse words he’s been exposed to enough to pick out, and when Choso peaks, he does so wordlessly in a mess of gasps and groans. The first pulse of cum jets across your tongue, and you draw back to hold your mouth open, working him through it with your hand. Ribbon after ribbon coats your face as Choso keens his way through the aftershocks, only filling your mouth when the force dwindles and his body slackens.

You’d mistake him for a corpse, were he not twitching every few seconds. His eyes are fixed on your face, glassy and unmoving, mouth agape as if he might burst into tears at any moment, unaided by the running of his blood mark down his cheeks.

Sitting back and admiring your handiwork, you swipe a thumb across a stripe of cum that starts to streak down your face, watching the man with a smile. You pop your thumb into your mouth, and Choso jolts to life at the sight, sitting up, suddenly breathing again.

His hand brushes your face. His own thumb tentatively brushing across the bridge of your nose.

“Please date me.”

You’re pretty certain he’ll cry for real if you say no.

#choso x reader #chousou x reader #choso jjk #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #as usual if you see a typo no you didn't #vas fics

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

RED-WING BLACKBIRDS AND DARK DAHLIAS (XVII)

|| COV MASTERLIST || NEXT: CHAPTER XVIII ||

PAIRING: Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick x F!Reader

WORDCOUNT: 4.3k

WARNINGS: Blood, wounds, angst, guns/weapons, injury, abduction, talks of abduction, talk of interrogations, protective/worried Gaz, Gaz's POV, etc.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

They called him back to the US the second word got out that you and your mother were gone, and all through the flight, Kyle couldn’t stop clenching and unclenching his hands.

His eyes stared straight ahead, jaw so tight that he could feel his molars screaming at him to let off the pressure. All he did was bite down harder. Leg jumping in one of the metal seats of the C-17, the Sergeant had already run through his gear multiple times just to try and pull some semblance of surety from them—a weight of normalcy. 

He had his magazines, he had his med pouch, and lines connecting his radio. Straps and ties, scissors next to wire cutters. 

None of his mind games were helping. He couldn’t run through his mental checklist any more than he already had; having to be up into the twenties of times he’d counted through items and packed goods. Kyle was always steady—he was always ready. Yet, he can’t say he’d ever been as thrown off his course as he had when he got the hurried phone call from Laswell. 

They’re gone. Get back here as soon as possible. 

There hadn’t been a moment of peace afterward—the man doesn’t even think he’s slept, much less eaten beyond a granola bar and a sip of water. Price had been side-eyeing him since his impromptu interrogation session back in Russia; the blatant disregard of orders. He’d been less than impressed about it, even if it had hailed them the answers they’d been looking for.

Gaz can’t even care to remember the hissed words he’d been passed in the car back to base—can’t think beyond the heavy-set fear in his breast. His heart beat hard in his ribcage, like a hammer shattering glass. The man’s eyes are beady and small. His shoulders wound high.

With a small growl under his breath, Kyle moves his spine back stiffly to connect with the back of the seat, feet resetting themselves. 

Johnny, across the way, spares him a glance, lips thinning. Over the noise is the hard assurance. “She’ll be fine, Mate, yeah? Just focus on gettin’ down there and finding ‘er.”

“Right,” brown eyes aren’t able to convey the same hope, and Gaz says the word on autopilot. He doesn’t want to talk—he needs to move. A man of intelligence brought down to the level of sprinting head first onto the scene because of a single woman. 

The Scot frowns, sharing a glance with Price. It isn’t any use, they know the Sergeant is restless. 

Even as the plane is landing, Garrick’s skin is stiff across his skull, scars pulling tight. When the cargo hold is open, he’s the first off the ramp. 

Kate waits impatiently a small distance away, eyes grim.

“Laswell!” Gaz calls, jogging lightly away from the friction in the air from the C-17. The woman stares at him, blue eyes glancing back as Price catches up easily. The last two follow, bringing down the bags with their gear plus Garricks. Kyle licks his lips before speaking, sunglasses at the collar of his vest swinging. 

“How did this happen?” He hisses, teeth bared. “Bloody hell, you said Alex was on her—I was told she would be under twenty-four-hour watch.”

“Sergeant,” Kate levels. “There’s been more activity here than I’d like to admit.” Her attention shifts to the Captain, who slips up and speaks stiffly. 

“What’s the situation, Kate?” 

“John,” the woman sighs, tilting her head. “It’s good you’re all here—we need as many eyes on this as possible. Follow me.”

“Kate,” Garrick moves forward, but a firm hand snaps to his shoulder, keeping him back. John’s unblinking eyes dig. The correction was as clear as day: show some respect—the information was coming. It wouldn’t help to rush into things, and, under that heavy blue gaze, Kyle won’t. 

When had the Sergeant forgotten his training?

Gaz darts his head forward and clenches his jaw in thin understanding.  

The flight from Russia back to Chicago was over thirteen hours, all four men were tired from running in circles and the time difference. But the job was the job. Gaz would drink as much caffeine as needed, even if he knew that he needed the rest more than anything, if not for his body then for his mind. The meeting room was a short and quick distance—the door barely shut and locked before business began in its regular grisly fashion. 

Gaz refused to sit, instead standing with his hands hanging from his combat vest, thumbs tapping in a repeated, and obviously anxious, manner. 

He needed to find you—safe. Alive. He needed to, and he can’t describe why out loud. The man had thought that maybe your lack of a phone call the night previous had been because of general fatigue and sickness; it would make sense with how you’d been nauseous all the time. On a few calls, you’d been falling asleep mid-sentence.

The flashing images of you possibly injured, bloodied, or even dead, left Gaz’s throat clearing quickly; face going from rage to fear to panic in a split second before forcing itself back to a practiced nothingness he reserved for interrogations. Except it felt like he was the one in the chair this time around. 

Please, he thinks. Please, for the love of God, let her be okay. Fuck…this never should have happened. 

He never should have left.

Laswell starts explaining just as the Captain lets off a grunted sentence. “What’s going on?”

“I went after her, but by the time I heard the gunshot, it was already too late.” The woman shakes her head. “This base was on an entire lockdown—no one was allowed close to our building.”

“Gunshot?” Gaz takes a step forward, head leaning closer as if he’d heard wrong. The others move past it, knowing there’s more. “Why was there already a lockdown in place?”

“Any cameras?” Ghost asks, partially interrupting. His intimidating form looms near the corner, casually leaning against the wall. 

“That’s why I called you back so quickly,” Kate breathes. “Look.” The laptop is grabbed from the side of the main table and dragged over as everyone mulls around. “I didn’t want to risk it over an open channel. Who knows who could be listening.”

“Kate?” John asks, a bit confused as the man’s legs shift weight. “Listening? Who are we talking about?”

“That fellow?” MacTavish asks, glancing at the others curiously. “Chiyou, was it?”

“If it is,” the woman breathes, “then every one of my hunches is proved right.” Blue eyes dart up as the projector whirs to life from above. The light blinks on, shining to the white screen along the wall. “No one else has seen this, and I’d like to keep it that way, boys. All of it from this point forward is completely Black. Off the books.”

“Then let's get to it,” Gaz states firmly, nearly shaking from inaction. His attitude is snappy; body eager to move. He has to do something. “We’re wasting time, Laswell. Every moment is a second lost where Spitfire could be hurt—”

“We all know how much you care, Kyle,” a stern face bares down into his, but the Sergeant’s gaze doesn’t falter for one instant. “But this is far more complicated than anything we’ve encountered before.” A pause. “Focus.”

“I am focused, Ma’am,” Gaz utters, clenching his hands again, feeling the scrape of rough material from his vest. His eyes are sparking with rage, brimming with a deadly promise. “Lazer.” 

“Good,” Is the easy response. “Because you’ll want to see this.”

The first image Gaz sees is you, and for that small instant, his pounding pulse stutters like a schoolboy. The grainy motion of your body as you sit down into the seat outside, placing down your journal and your laptop…brown eyes finch closed in confusion. 

Journal? 

Wasn’t that your father’s? When did you find that? Kyle’s mind runs, but all he can settle on is the possibility of you finding it back at your estate…and never mentioning it to him. Despite it all, there’s a quick flicker of something like a smirk across his lips before he watches you cough into your arm through the video. From there, though, Gaz’s attention becomes sharper, honing in like a blade the longer nothing happens.

Kyle studies every frame—every shift from the bushes and your hands pulling out your coin from your pocket, the item glinting in the low light. He’d never got to ask you why that thing was so important. A pang hits his chest, making Gaz’s sweaty hands twitch a bit harder. Seeing you there made his lungs crush in on themselves—there’s a need to try and break through the projection just to grab you back. 

Focus, the Sergeant has to think. Get her back.

But his mind jumps to every time you’d stared into his eyes up to now, your growing bond that he felt proud of being a part of—some semblance of healing. Your lips so very close to his in the remnants of a dark room. 

By the time the figure slips up behind you, the realization is enough to make Kyle’s hands drop seriously; Johnny, Ghost, and Price all going stone-still as their eyes snap back in slight shock. Gaz’s face drops.

Because it was no one else but your mother that now goes and points a gun at your head. 

“What the fuck,” the Sergeant hear’s Johnny whisper under his breath. 

It’s as if the fire is stolen from Garrick’s chest in one foul gust of wind. A chill so deep it leaves the hair on his arms standing pulls from the depths of his gut—intestines bunching; stomach writhing. His eyes stare so hard, that the tendons behind them pull like a tight string. 

Your mother. 

It all fit together so well, that the sudden realization made his mouth water with the warning of bile. Gaz wants to will the video to stop—and his teeth grind together as he glares at your pixelated form, none the wiser as your matriarch raises and levels the black barrel behind your head just after your fingers grasp at a something from the journal; dropping another piece of paper to the ground before quickly bending to retrieve it.

“Turn around,” Kyle harshly whispers to himself. “Fucking hell, Love, Please turn around.” 

He pleads to whatever God might be listening, no, even then, to any anti-christ or demon that grips at his blackened soul—any of them; any broken, rotten bit of his heart. Something had to move you.

The gun raises, it follows the shifting of your head.

Kyle’s legs wanted to bolt, to run to wherever this footage had been filmed on some off-chance-hope that this was all a big farce—some lie; a test. A test he can break apart and analyze, a test he can understand. But Gaz can’t understand the raw fear that makes his eyes snap from you to the gun like a quivering child.

Suddenly he’s a little boy again, and his mother is giving him his father’s watch and explaining why the man isn’t here. Kyle feels very, very small. In fact, the Sergeant had never felt like more of a failure in his entire life. 

“Please,” is all that he can mutter past numb lips, the others in the room irrelevant in the grainy shadow of a mangled woman trying to piece together her family's broken bits of polished glass. A kaleidoscope of crimson shards, dripping blood over her head; he knew how much it weighed on you, damn it, he knew. The things you’ve already gone through, he burned because of it. All of this is some great brand that sears his flesh: sinner.  

Kyle shakes his head, jaw grinding before his fingertips threaten to draw crimson crescents in his palms.

“Just turn around.” He snaps, voice grating in his throat like a dog—eyes tight.

By the grace of whatever God had heard him, just before the quick flare of the bullet being discharged from the gun, your body drops to the ground. 

John grunts beside him, arms shifting, and a great heaving sigh rattles through Gaz’s lungs. Your figure scrambles as pages erupt into the air—the journal on the table having been struck at the angle your mother had pointed the weapon; trailing down with her arm steady at the force. 

The sense that she’d held a gun before was a quick thought, nothing more, as Kyle’s brown gaze sears the projector screen. Scrambling, the Sergeant holds his breath as you break for the cover of some potted plants, limping because of your thigh before your mother turns her head and calls sharply to someone out of the camera's range—there’s no sound on this footage, so the command is lost. 

There’s a crackle on the screen, and the video snaps to black. Kyle’s heart breaks itself.  

“Bring it back up!” He barks, neck straining itself. Gaz rushes forward, grabbing at the computer as his Captain gruffly reprimands his actions. 

“Garrick!” 

“This is all we could grab,” is the even tone. “There were multiple arrests in our surveillance building, they’re all being questioned right now. No one’s spilling.”

The Sergeant’s hands run the keys, messing with the space bar. Brown eyes land on the silent woman in barely hidden desperation.

“Where’s the rest of it? Where’d she run off to—there needs to be more we can go through. A–” He trails, teeth snapping. “A direction, a lead, something, Laswell.”

“What the fuck is going on,” John grinds out, moving his glare from Garrick to Kate. 

“Her own mother?” Soap adds, raising a dark brow and making a noise under his breath. “Talk about a special family, aye?”

“Could say that again,” Ghost utters, huffing. “She got the package deal.”

“Bloody watch it,” brown eyes barely move from the screen as silence seeps into the room. Gaz’s fingers shift back the time to when you were rushing past that potted plant. A sharp sheen of horrified analysis was rooted like veins into Kyle’s sights now—a feral want.

You had to have left him something to find you. You were smart like that; you were devilishly sneaky when you needed to be—when there was only a second of lightning-strike action. 

You had to have.

An aggressive fire so rare to the Sergeant seems to easily overtake him every time your mother’s face is visible to the camera. A blood-red adding of his brain so much so his hands visibly twitch along the pad. 

“Major breach of all functions on base,” Kate answers the Captain, looking deathly serious. “We have no clue how long this has been going on.”

“The mother,” John levels. 

“I had a hunch,” the woman admits.

“Why didn’t you say anything,” Kyle’s body straightens from where it was hunched over the computer, anger getting the better of him. “Fucking hell, Laswell. Spitfire,” he breathes, “my charge is gone and you had doubts?!”

“Sergeant,” the Captain’s voice is deathly cold. “...Stand down.”

Blazing brown meets Kate’s deep blues—drilling.

“I left her here,” Kyle forces out, shaking hand moving into a slow fist over the laptop. 

The room is swept with a delicate pause. 

Laswell sighs, blinking. She looks to the side, averting her eyes. “There was no actionable intel on her mother. I did the best I could without support, but it was limited to what Alex could find out and relay to me.” The woman shakes her head, motioning with a hand. “Medicine was going missing from the hospital building, but the records never showed that was the case—it was word of mouth. Business dealings that didn’t add up from years back after the failed interrogation of Spitfire’s father; all of it not enough. The tracks were hidden so well, it would have taken a team that sat in the hundreds—thousands, even.”

“Needle in a haystack,” Ghost breathes. “The cell overseas?”

“East China?” Kate blinks, tilting her head.

“Only lead we’ve got,” John grunts, shaking his skull and glaring at the table. “Doesn’t help much, Kate. Whole country.”

“That’s if she’s still alive,” MacTavish adds under his breath, sharing a glance at Gaz. 

The other Sergeant isn’t even listening—the pointless babble of the ones who’d ripped him away from you; as if it wasn’t his own hands that had sent in that reassignment form. ‘

“C’mon, Spitfire,” Kyle bites his lips, fastly tapping the arrow keys to see every frame over and over again. 

Your quick duck, the whites of your eyes, that slackened jaw of terror—he doesn’t think you even realize that it’s your mother, just the threat of death enough to block it out. You turn, and the item in your hand bunches with the tightness of your grip. 

Gas interrupts the hurried speaking from the others. 

“The journal—the USB, did you find them?” 

“All of it was recovered,” Kate answers. “Except whatever it was that she was holding.”

Kyle’s spine hunches, looming closer to the screen. It’s the grain that blocks his vision from the truth—the utter shite of the quality pathetic even to him. 

“Where was this?” The Sergeant asks. “The camera recording?”

Laswell nods, giving away the information as if citing off a report. “It’s a small rest area off the back entrance of building C. We kept them both there as new personnel cycled through.”

Kyle’s already out the door, only blinking at the last image of your hand slapping the side of a potted plant and the glance backward as your mother once more raises the gun. A stupid hope was that you’d be here, despite it all. But the slam of his boots only echoed to his ears alone.

Brown eyes shifted from one area to the next, scanning table and chair—everything had been searched already; most likely by Laswell and Alex. 

“Anything,” Kyle turns a circle, hands sweaty. He needed you back. He needed you here minutes ago; hours ago. Your rare eye contact, your laugh that he had become addicted to drawing out of you like honey, the way you spoke, and walked. It had become too much for the man, and his affection for you was so deep now that it was impossible to deny—you’d snuck your way into his heart when he wasn’t looking, and even if you never returned the feelings that you’d infected him with like a poisoner, this agony was unlike anything definable by vocalization. 

This was torture that he couldn’t fight against. 

“You’re smart, Sweetheart,” he gasps, expression pained. “You left me something, I know you did. You left me something to follow.”

If you were the hare, then Gaz would become the hound. You wouldn’t be gone for long, mark every work he’d ever said and most certainly the ones that he hadn’t. He was getting you back beside him, and then he needed to look into your eyes and spill every secret that was ingrained into his DNA. 

Lashes moving, Gaz’s legs carry him across concrete and patches of grass, the crunch of it underfoot. He glances at the table, giving it a once over, bending to study below it—nothing. Kyle grunts lowly, growing more desperate as the seconds draw longer. 

The man passes the potted plants, shifting to run his boot over the grass and ruffle anything that might be stuck in the earth. 

Nothing. 

“Spitfire,” Kyle growls under his breath, backing up a step stiffly. He runs a hand over the base of his neck, fingertips dragging to stimulate the heated skin. 

When it’s all nearly lost, there’s a moment when the light of the sun perfectly aligns with something metallic from the corner of the Brit’s vision. A tiny glint of reflection from the sun leaves Gaz’s eyes flinching in a reactionary display. Grunting, the Sergeant’s head tilts away in annoyance, looking over with a growling ill-temper to the dirt of the first potted plant, ready to snap at it with vitriol. 

But the insult to the inanimate object dries like a desert storm slashed through Gaz’s mouth on the back of a lion. It’s a small thing, hidden under the deep brown of the dirt—the Sergeant doesn’t even know what it is or if it’ll even help before his hands are grasping and ripping away the top layer rabidly. 

His heart pounds, bruising his ribs with the frantic pulse of life. Dirt flies through the air, and Gaz’s grip slides over something metal—something cold. A sharp hiss is barked from him as he accidentally slices his fingertips as he snatches it, the crinkle of paper mimicking before that, too, is stolen with a fast thought. 

“That’s my girl,” Kyle chuckles, though it's serious—lacking anything more than a hurried second of relief. “That’s my fucking girl…okay. Okay, I can work with this, yeah?”

What is pressed into the soil is your coin, the one you always try to carry no matter what, and a piece of lined paper. 

Gaz thinks out loud.

“From the journal?” He asks under his breath, brows pulling in. His attention jumps from one word to the other, but the sudden color of red steals the only ounce of hope he may have gotten. 

Blood. 

Your smeared fingerprints spread along the page and Kyle’s face balks back with a blink of panic, eyes snapping this way and that until it’s clear that the display of gore was more than residual splatter—it was circling a sequence of numbers; if the contents of the letter were anything to go by, the date of your expected graduation from college. 

A sequence of numbers. 

Kyle’s jaw slackens, and he reacts much slower than he knows he should just off of the anxious shaking of his hands as he clenches the paper and the coin. 

“USB,” he utters, breathing heavily. 

And the coin—that tiny piece of your life, that small item you fiddled with but never showed beyond a quick glimpse when you were twirling it. Kyle flips the image as he stands fully, licking his lips as he begins to jog back to Laswell and demand the USB. 

Yet, there’s something that makes a startling amount of pained sense about the inscription on that coin. But he still takes it like a knife to the stomach with a sharp breath. 

‘TO THINE OWN SELF BE TRUE: UNITY, SERVICE, RECOVERY.’ A triangle with the image of the Roman numeral ‘I’.

It was a one-year Alcoholics Anonymous sobriety coin.

—

“Where was it?” Laswell takes the note and blinks down at it, face stiffening at the smears of blood. Kyle’s fingers grasp and drag the laptop to him, panting from how he’d run. The man doesn’t answer, muttering under his breath the numbers as the screen blinks to life. The USB was already plugged in—a result of the fast call that Kyle had thrown the woman’s way, needing it to be ready for him.

Kate passes the paper to Price, who walks to stand behind Gaz—Ghost and Johnny both following to see what the Sergeant had found before he busted back through the meeting room door. 

“She hid it,” Kyle grunts. Long fingers tapping, the keys give way as the numbers are typed in one after the other. “I knew she’d left me something—there was no way she wouldn’t.”

His Captain’s fingers push away dark particles of dirt, but his blues blink up to stare at Garrick as, finally, that password screen breaks away to the pop-up of the file selection. 

“Yes!” Gaz says under his breath, eyes intense; nearly unblinking. 

There isn’t much left to do except look—study. But there wasn’t time for that. Wherever you were, if your mother had you, there was an urgency that couldn’t be overlooked. There had to be something in this USB that gave the answers that everyone was searching for—what you had been searching for.

The location of a hub. But now…there could be something even more valuable in these files—a place where Gaz could bring you back to him.

Brown eyes slip from one file to another, all labeled from ‘2006 Dealings’ to ‘Reports from 04-03: Row’. All organized neatly, maybe no more than ten plainly visible.

“Sergeant,” Kate shifts closer, reaching. 

“I’m getting there, Laswell,” he breathes, “I need to find her before she’s gone forever.”

Kate and John share a look. The woman breathes, “This needs to go to the proper channels for analysis. We can’t rush this intel—one wrong step and the USB could wipe itself if there’s a failsafe hidden in the code.”

Gaz huffs, clicking through documents ruthlessly. “Bullshit.” 

Soap blinks in shock. They all knew that Garrick could be hotheaded and stubborn, but it never extended itself so much as to be a repeated hindrance to the team—in Russia and now were the exceptions. 

“Gaz,” Price says under his breath, watching tightly. “We all know you’re worried, but until we get solid intel, we can’t move after her. Location is only a part of what needs to be understood, Sergeant.” 

Long fingers flinch to slam into the file near the very bottom, and the screen freezes before Gaz blinks at it in anger—in rage—as his palm slaps the table, eyes spearing the individuals behind him.

He barks, “You’re not the bloody people who promised her she’d be safe!” 

The second the sentence sparks electricity in the room, an explosion of blueprints, diagrams, and progress charts move over the laptop screen. Attention snapping back, flinching wide, Gaz’s face pulls as all of it settles on the very last image—the only one he needs to see. 

It was an aerial view of Eastern China, and along the vast coastline, there were markings in the tens of navy-colored pinpoints. Port locations, maybe; warehouses and factories. But all locations.

Gaz stands up, blinking down at the map slowly. 

Taking a slow breath, Kyle swallows down the saliva in his throat and grinds out lowly into the deathly silent room, “When are we starting, Sir?”

TAGS:

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[curvykittyyssmutfics]

Womanizer ft. Geto

womanizer!Geto is very much aware of how fine he is. Struts through the school with his head and nose way to fuckin high in the air. You think the hungry way the girls look at him might actually feed his energy, he seems to literally level up from it and its absolutely ridiculous. But don't think he doesn't notice how your burning gaze rake over him before you pretend it has no effect on you.

womanizer!Geto even though he's hella cocky, still has a soft heart; just doesn't want anyone to about it. Whether it's of monetary value or not, he'll help any way he can. Suguru might be sex on a stick and confident as fuck but he isn't heartless. Only Saturo knows this side of him.. Till one night when he tried to play match maker and end up spilling the beans to you.

womanizer!Geto isn't just a pretty face, so doesn't like his girls brainless. Unless its cause of his cock ofcourse. He doesn't keep em long but expects to get a bit familiar before he tries to hit. Doesn't think anyone not pursuing a higher knowledge is really worth his time. Interesting lil fact: of all the years Suguru's known you, he swiftly peeps how intelligent you are and always been.

womanizer!Geto obviously loves attention from the ladies. Like waaay too much. Turns you off matter fact. And he notices. Which is weird. Cause he usually only notices when women throw themselves at his feet. "Goin to Geto's party inna few weeks? Come on, hang with us? Could use another pretty face there." Suguru over hears Satoru ask you after class. "Hmmm.. Maybe. Though I think you two horny sluts have enough eye candy on the menu." You answer with a eye roll. "Me? We? Sluts?" He feigns ignorance as you shake your head laughing. Meanwhile, Suguru wonders when in the world has he ever thought bein called a slut was arousing cause.. His dicks startin to chub.

womanizer!Geto isnt really into easy women. Most of the cute lil thangs from school put out just watchin that talented tongue swipe across his bottom lip. Knows he doesn't have to do much work and sometimes that puts him off. He doesn't even like to talk with a woman if he doesn't think he's gonna hit but nothin gets his dick softer than a girl that open her legs to him before she even knows his name. Funny though.. Suguru notices you don't date. At all. Kinda wonders what it would take to get a chance with your pretty ass. So he asks you one day while you guys practice sparring. "Y/n, how long have we known each other?" Straightening from your fighting stance, absolutely befuddled as you answer. "Bout 5+ years, as you already know. Why?" Suguru steps closer, trailing his index finger down your cheek. "Cause I wanna know why in the 5 years that you've known me, you've never given me a chance." You tsk at him. Is he serious? "Boy, ya dick been in every one under the sun." You're response throws him off, makes him chuckle as he thinks about your words. You ain't lyin. He uses protection though.

womanizer!Geto has always had a high sex drive. Except lately. He just doesn't know why he can't get it up when he's not thinkin about you. Hasn't been interested in any of his usual conquests lately. To add to the madness, jerking offs become a pain in the ass if he doesnt let you swim into his thoughts. So he sulks and pouts about it in class one day- till he sees heading to your seat. Suguru's dark eyes are glued to how your tits slightly jiggle in your robe as you walk. Man, would bet every single penny he had that you're fuckin gorgeous everywhere. "Hi, y/n" "Hey, Sugu! Wassup?" Oh shit.. No, no, no, no.. Cute way you say his name, moist pretty plump lips, and that fuckin body.. His dick. His dick is definitely what's up right now.

womanizer!Geto usually has a harem of cute girls following him around like puppies. Not the night of his party, he trails after you like one instead. "Come on y/n, just gimme a chance." He a bit tipsy so you continuously evade him. You're soakin wet from dodging Suguru's advances, his nasty words and exploring fingers. So you head into the kitchen to poor yourself a drink and gets some space. Unfortunately for you he meets you there and you groan at his persistence. "Geto, quit it. You're just horny. And there's plenty of fuck toys round here for you to play with. So beat it." You grumble. Suguru whines at your rejection, cornering you as you try to side step him. "Don't like when you're mean to me. Or when you call me that." He lies through his teeth. Only one of those two sentences are true. "Fine, Sugu. Happy? Now go find one of your playthings. Fuckin manwhore." Okay now hes perplexed, your mean words having the same effect when you called him a slut. Suguru thinks you should know since it's your fault. He pins you to the counter, pressing his hard dick into you. You gasp, fingers gripping into the sides of his shirt, havin to fight not to let your eyes flutter shut at his bulge pressuring your tingly clit. "Can't, y/n. Dick never gets hard for them anymore. Have fucked in weeks. Can't even cum without you on my mind. Help me out, baby pleeaase." You've never seen him so desperate, pawing at your backside as he sticks his face in your neck. Won't stop dry humping and licking you as he inhales your scent. "Sugu-" He cuts you off, pleas wearing you down real quick. "Promise I can make you feels so good. Know how to make that lil kitty purr, baby. Lemme show you?" You're eyes trail off over his shoulder as you think about it. Fuck, why not? He's the most wanted attraction in town, how could not get a ride too? You accidently catch Saturo's gaze. Grin wide when he does a peace sign, sticking his tongue between the two fingers and wiggling it. He points at Suguru and gives you a thumbs up, signalling how good his BFF's pussy eating skills are. Shit, that seals the deal; you def need a demonstration. "Fine, Sugu." You feign irritation, pushin him back and pullin him towards his bedroom. "Better not disappoint me. Not gonna get another chance, playboy." Promises of your pleasure spill from Suguru's lips as you drag him by his t-shirt, him secretly hoping you'll continue your lil mean act while riding his cock.

#black reader #black fanfiction #black writer #all readers #all welcome #all women are beautiful #smut #jjk smut #geto x reader #geto x y/n #geto x you #getou suguru x reader #geto x black reader #geto x black y/n #getou suguru x you #getou x reader #getou suguru x y/n #suguru x black reader #suguru x reader #suguru x you #suguru x y/n #suguru geto x black!reader #dirty talk #suggestive

[rose-tea-and-strawberries]

A Game Of Cat And Mouse

Leona Kingscholar and Che’nya x Fem!Jerry Mouse!Reader 

Note: Reader is Yuu/The magicless Ramshackle Prefect from another world

I have a ton of WIPs that I really want to complete but to help motivate myself to finish them I decided to write this

So Jerry’s personality seems to fluctuate depending on his iteration so I’m just going to tone down his more sadistic tendencies and make him more like the early shorts where he’s more mischievous and acts when provoked instead of going out of his way to ruin Tom’s life for no reason. 

Honestly as a Tom girlie I felt so sorry for Thomas. There were times where that poor cat did not deserve what he went through - even when I was little I would root for him. Though this might just be an oldest child thing since my little sister and mum (who’s the youngest in her family) prefer Jerry.

LEONA KINGSCHOLAR 

Honestly, his first impression of you wasn’t the best. Yeah, you’re a girl and he chugs gallons of respecting women juice for every meal but come on - you’re this tiny little mousegirl from another world who can’t even do magic (not to mention that he’s heard rumours that you don’t even speak that much). You’ll get eaten alive!

Then he met you and all of that went down the drain

The meeting went as it usually does: you stepped on his tail, he angrily confronts you (whilst subtly warning you of the dangers of NRC) but then you just give him this flat, unamused look.

“Hey pussycat,” you deadpan, raising an eyebrow and crossing your arms as you jut your chin up so you level him with a glare, “maybe don’t go leaving your tail lying around everywhere if you don’t want people to step on it.”

Okay, so maybe you weren’t the meek little mouse that he thought you were. Even the predators in his dorm don’t have the guts to talk back to him. Honestly, respect.

Then word gets out that you defeated an overblot and his opinion of you gets more and more favourable.

Long story short, you start dating after his overblot.

And it does cause a few turned heads.

And who can blame them? A lion going out with a mouse. That’s definitely something.

And to the untrained eye, it does sound concerning. But to those who know you (read: have been around you for more than five minutes)? Well, they’re praying for Leona’s sanity because you are nothing more than an agent of chaos.

There was this one time before you and Leona got together where a bunch of Savanaclaw predators were trying to push you, Ace, Deuce and Grim around and without even blinking you just pummelled all of them right then and there. At one point during the curb stomp battle you just pulled a mallet out of nowhere and just started thrashing everyone until they were black and blue. 

Congratulations the entire Savanaclaw dorm is terrified of you

All that training with Big Cousin Muscles really does wonders

NRC have two new rules: 1) don’t even think about going after the nagicless prefect because you will lose and even if you try to use magic she will dodge and it will be your funeral and 2) DO NOT UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES hurt Ace, Deuce or Grim because that will probably be the last thing you ever do (memories of Jerry completely annihilating Tom after he hurt Nibbles are resurfacing)

One thing he admires about you is your cunning and intelligence and how you’re always a step ahead of everyone no matter what their plans are. Even when you do find yourself in trouble 

Even Rook Hunt has trouble trying to catch you. Don’t worry though, he’s far too fond of ‘petite mademoiselle souris’ to be irked by that.

He does get jealous of how close you are with Ruggie though. Since the hyena is also a greedy little thieving bugger like you, you have found a kindred spirit in him. The two of you bond over raiding the NRC kitchen and making off with as much as you can. And also taking the mickey out of Leona.

 You also get along great with Cheka. He’s noticed that you have a soft spot for children and other animals. The pro is that he gets his nephew off of his back by pawing him off to you (who he knows will make sure that no harm will come to him) the con is that you get along too well and your chaotic natures mixing will probably send him to an early grave - if your mischievous and provoking nature doesn’t already.

One thing he loves to do is tease you over your mouse-like qualities. Yeah, anyone with eyes can tell that you’re nowhere near as innocent as you look but those mouse ears, wide eyes, squeaks and cute little tail are objectively and indisputably adorable. He takes great pleasure in telling you how cute ‘his little mouse’ is, especially when you give such sweet reactions when you're flustered.

Though he does get taken aback by how bold you are. You definitely did that thing Jerry does where he holds mistletoe above his head and made kissing noises at Tom.

Your high pitched laugh makes his heart melt and he definitely uses his rich boy money to buy you all of the expensive cheese you can eat.

CHE’NYA

He loves you so much. Finally, someone he can be chaotic with - you’re a match made in hell.

His interest in you starts when he tries to sneak up on you whilst invisible but you pull one over him and just turn around, look directly into his unseeable eyes and sprAY WATER RIGHT ONTO HIS FACE-WHAT THE HELL?! WHERE DID YOU EVEN GET THAT SPRAY BOTTLE FROM????

At first he was pleasantly surprised before his face broke into a Cheshire Cat grin. He felt cupid’s arrow hit him square in the chest and he just looked at you with heart eyes.

By asking Trey and Cater and hiding in the rose maze, he gathered enough information to decide that you are his future wife

Turns out that your troublemaking antics have you paired with Ace and Floyd for the position of ‘bane of Riddle Rosehearts’ existence’. Mainly because everytime you break a rule you always, without fail, evade punishment by avoiding getting caught - even when you are clearly the culprit

Trey has bribed you with so many cheese based baked goods to stop you from sneaking into Heartslabyul and causing mayhem (you felt sorry for him so you promised him that you’ll only steal from the main kitchen near the cafeteria. That’s not what he meant but he’ll take it)

One day he catches you kidnapping the dorm’s pet dormouse before an unbirthday party so that you ‘can help your fellow mice by freeing them from their subjugation’. He shrugs and nods in understanding before asking you if he should let out the flamingos and hedgehogs from their pens as a distraction. 

And so a beautiful relationship was born as the two of you ran off with a tray of choux pastries and a bunch of angry card soldiers chasing you.

The two of you have a competition over who can sneak into and stay in Heartslabyul the longest without getting caught and you’re currently the winner.

He loves that you’re not scared of anyone and you’re not afraid to stand up to people that are almost quadruple your size. In fact, he’s there cheering you on whenever you fight back or plot your revenge (he does know that he has a whole other school to attend, right?). One time you showed him one of your revenge plans and he even helped you set the traps and everything. Oh the two of you working together has NRC running for the hills.

Like Leona, he does like to tease you but what do you expect? He’s a cat, you’re a mouse - that’s nature. Though he does love the fact that you’re always one step ahead of him whenever he does try to outsmart you. He loves a good puzzle and you certainly keep him on his toes.

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #leona kingscholar x reader #che'nya x reader #fem reader

[breekento]

hello! I love your fics on Higuruma on AO3! wanted to ask if you take any requests for Prisoner!Higuruma who survives culling games and turns himself in jail, but reader regularly visits him and waits for his release ?🥹 A bit of angst but fluff at the end please 💞

thank you for being my first fic request! I probably won’t write these as long as my fics on AO3 because it would take me months lol! But these are fun writing practices for me!

(wc: 1.6k, no smut, just pain and fluff)

“How are you sleeping, doll? Are you getting everything you need?” His voice crackles through the phone.

Your fingers tremble, squeezing the phone so tightly you were surprised it didn’t crumble in your grasp. “I guess so,” you reply in a small voice.

“I don’t like the sound of that, baby.”

You knew better than to lie, he was intelligent and ever observant of every hitch or quirk in your voice. “I just miss you, Hiro,” you say shakily.

He sighs deeply on the other line. “I miss you, too, doll. More than you can ever know. You’re still coming to see me tomorrow, right? I need to see that beautiful face.”

“Of, course.” How could you forget? It has become your weekly routine. Every week, the night before your visits with Hiromi, tossing hangers draped in clothes over your head in search of the perfect outfit. Open toed, too short, mesh, crop top. At some point you would need to go shopping for appropriate clothes to visit your boyfriend in prison but for whatever reason, it felt as if you were accepting defeat.

You knew very little of Hiromi’s mysterious work-life and he liked to keep it that way. The world of sorcery was foreign to you and your knowledge was shallow. Hence, the ringing in your ears, the numb feeling on your fingertips as your brain struggled to connect the dots on that day.

“I just don’t understand why you’re doing this to me, Hiro,” your voice was raspy, tears flowing down your face as you followed him out of the door.

“I can’t tell you,” he says, cold and distant as if he were desperately trying to disconnect from the harsh world around him.

“Look,” his voice is softer. His hands cup your face, lip distorted and eyebrows twisted upward in agony. “I’ve done bad, bad things. I can’t live with myself like this. You don’t want me here.”

“B-but how do you know? You don’t know,” you fumble over your words.

“I’ll be gone for a while, doll,” his forehead pressed against yours. At that moment, it felt doable. How long? Why? What have you done? You never asked, worried that you wouldn’t accept the answer.

Years had passed and it was doable. Not short of late nights, curled under the covers, fingers searching for the smell of his cologne and hair gel. Elbow stretched as far as you could reach, hand fumbling for the zipper on the back of your dress. Shit, if Hiromi was just here. Small tasks felt big.

Sitting behind your desk, mindlessly searching through your emails as a thinly faced coworker pops her head over the cubicle. “Are you going to the office pot-luck tonight?” She beams.

“Oh,” you jump in your seat. “I have plans.”

She frowns, resting her head on the half-wall. “You never do anything.”

You shrug, looking toward your computer screen. Explaining that you’re visiting your prison boyfriend was not something you cared to delve into with a superficial level of coworker.

The clock strikes 5:00pm and you are your own version of Cinderella, tossing your purse over your shoulder and striding towards the door. Only in this story, you weren’t running away from the probability of your carriage turning into a pumpkin. You were running toward your murderer of a boyfriend, clinging to that 30 minutes of quality time.

It couldn’t have been Hiromi. Not your Hiromi. The Hiromi who stayed awake late at night, holding your body close as it ached on your monthly. The Hiromi with tender fingers that grazed your skin covered in bubbles as you leaned against his skin as warm water poured over the two of you. The Hiromi who replaced the fresh flowers on your dining table every week, knowing you loved the scent. He couldn’t have been a killer. Surely it was for a reason. Was there such a reason?

“I’m here for Hiromi Higuruma,” you say through the window.

The guard’s eyes flicker to yours. Nodding before lifting the phone to her ear. Taking your cue, you sit in the waiting chair. Your legs bounce in anxiety, it never got easier.

The door swings open, a large guard standing in the doorway. Gathering your things, you walk toward the room. The room you knew too well. The tension in the air dissipates as the tall, dark-haired man stands before you. Even in this state, he was strikingly handsome. His hair, slicked back with strands falling forward onto his brow. His lips curl into a smile, eyes twinkling at the sight of you. His orange jump-suit hangs off of his body, wrists clasped together by handcuffs.

“There she is. My beautiful girl,” he purrs as you join him at the large table. It was just the two of you, and the guards that lined the perimeter. How romantic.

In his usual gentleman fashion, he waits for you to find your seat before sitting down himself. You adjust in your seat, face heating up as you scan his face.

“I missed you,” you say bashfully under his intense gaze.

“God. You get more beautiful every time I see you.”

You lean against the table, propping your head on your hands, “When are you ever going to get out of this place?”

“Funny you should say that,” he says with a grin. Your eyes widen, lifting yourself off of the table. “I have a date.”

Your mouth dries. “A-a date?”

“Doll, I’ve been here for 6 years. In a few months, they’re letting me out early for good behavior. Well, parole,” he says with a grin.

You stand from your seat, jaw slack and eyes rapid fire scanning his expression for any sign of a joke. “Y-you’re coming home?”

His eyes soften, looking up at you with those gorgeous sleepy eyes. “I’m going home, baby.”

Every muscle in your body wanted to lunge forward, wrapping your arms around his neck and tackling him to the ground. You haven’t even touched the man in years. You opt for covering your mouth with your hand.

“Keep holding on for just a few more months, doll. I’ll be home before you know it,” his eyes are kind.

“15 minutes,” the voice from the guard echoes throughout the empty room.

“My life here is boring. Tell me about yours. How’s work? How’s the house?”

He had truly set you up for success. You stayed in his home, completely paid for and taken care of by him. You didn’t have to work but you feared insanity spending your days alone in his large house. Brushing your teeth and watching his, dry and unused black toothbrush beside yours. His loafers that sit in the doorway, unworn and clean.

“Work is boring. They had a potluck tonight. My boss somehow thinks I’m the biggest idiot in the world while also piling more on my workload,” you say. It felt silly to complain about your mundane work tasks while he lived here. But he hung on your every word, soaking in the way your lips curled and eyes creased.

“Oh and I spent hours getting rid of weeds last weekend. The second you’re out of this place, that’s your job,” you say with narrow eyes.

He chuckles, leaning forward in his seat, “It will be my pleasure, baby.”

“It’s time,” the guard says. Each week, shattering your heart little by little. You stand, unable to stop the tears welling in your eyes.

“Don’t cry, darling. Not much longer. Just stay strong for a little longer,” his voice pleads.

You nod, using balled up fists to wipe your face. You watch him stand, towering over you as the guards guide him back to the mysterious place he now lived. He turns his face to catch your eyes, face sad as he watches the human form of his heart shatter before his eyes.

The door shuts and once again you are left alone. Only a few more months. Those words propelled you, every action you performed had a meaning suddenly. When you couldn’t reach something on the top shelf, when you couldn’t lift the garbage bag over your head, when you ran out of toilet paper you thought soon he will be here.

And soon came quick enough. You stood in front of your full length mirror, adjusting your sundress that fell over your curves. Your hair was fluffy and soft, draped over your shoulders. He knew what you looked like but you needed his first sight of you to be special, breathtaking.

With shaky hands and clammy feet, you stand outside the prison. If you weren’t leaning your body weight against the car door, you probably would have fallen over. You tap your foot anxiously, any minute now.

The door creaks open, a tall, lanky man dressed in black jeans and soft white shirt, the outfit he had left on that day. Before you could tell your feet to quit, you were running, no, sprinting towards the man.

He matches your speed, arms wrapping around your body as he lifts you from the ground. You bury your face in his neck, giggling through tears that coat his white t-shirt. His muffled laughs find your ears as he spins you, holding your body tightly. It had been years since you felt his hands on your back, his breath in your ear.

“I love you, I love you,” he chants against your face. He set you down, pressing both of his hands on each side of your face. “Let me get a good up-close look at my beautiful girl.”

Your cheeks blushed red under his gaze, “Let’s go home.”

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

[loosescrewslefty]

I've seen a few people misinterpreting this scene, and thinking that Willow is saying that she WOULD invade Luz's privacy if it were her, and it's frustrated me to the point where I feel the need to say something, because that is 100% NOT what this scene is about.

Willow is NOT telling Amity to snoop in Luz's phone, or saying she would if it were her. Willow is setting healthy boundaries with Amity.

Willow is concerned about Amity here. And she understand why Amity is worried, and why Amity is tempted to snoop (because she IS tempted. They would not be having this conversation if Amity wasn't) but while she might not intend to do so, Amity is trying to push Willow into being her moral compass, to make a difficult choice FOR Amity, so Amity doesn't have to.

And instead of just telling Amity what SHE would do in her shoes, and taking the burden of deciding if it's right or wrong to look through Luz's phone off of Amity's shoulders, Willow goes for the neural ground. Not judging, not deciding for, but listening to and talking with Amity, so Amity can make HER decision about HER relationship with HER girlfriend, without Willow getting dragged into it more than she is comfortable with. This is the best thing someone could do for Amity at this stage, as she is a recovering abuse victim who still isn't used to deciding things for herself instead of following a predetermined path. Setting a boundary here keeps Amity from slipping into a bad habit and putting an unhealthy expectation on Willow as her friend. Because this is NOT Willow's circus, and these are NOT her monkeys.

This isn't the only time we see them show Willow's character possessing a strong interpersonal intelligence, either. We also see a few examples of Willow showing a keen ability of knowing when it's necessary for her to step in and help because someone she cares about is over their heads and spiraling or bit off more than they could chew;

And when she needs to step back, either to give others space to deal with their emotions or to let them manage things on their own, even if she wants to jump in and help.

This is an extremely difficult balance to strike in a character, but they manage it really well with Willow, making her one of the most level headed characters in the show who is willing and capable of helping others without compromising her own happiness and well being or taking on burdens that she should not be expected to bare.

#the owl house #toh #willow park #amity blight #lumity #luz noceda #character analysis #relationship analysis #healthy boundaries #friendships #abuse tw

[iliaclwrites]

Ok I have to be honest I am a sucker for scenarios where Jason has a crush on y/n but she's dating Eddie. Eddie getting to rub it in jasons face is just so satisfying. Idk maybe I just really love Eddie and really hate Jason. Soooo I was wondering if I could request that. Maybe Jason is always flirting with her and Eddie is finally just like “fuck it” and kisses her right in front of him?

Tysm I'm in love with your writing btw ❤️❤️❤️

You were sitting with your friends on the lunch table, when you felt a heavy hand land on your shoulder. You look up, already starting to smile at the idea it was Eddie, only to come face to face with Jason Carver. The smile freezes. "Oh. Uh. Hi, Jason," you said, and took a sip of your CapriSun to cover your awkwardness. "What can I do for you?"

He smiled at you, and you swallowed thickly. "Well," he said, shifting his weight. "It's the big game tonight, and I was wondering if you'd like an invite to the afterparty. It's at mine."

You blinked. "What, on a Tuesday?"

"Um." He stared at you. "Yeah?"

You bit your lip. "I dunno, Jason. It's a schoolnight. I've got plans, too," you added. "I've got to do homework. Yeah." You nodded twice. "Mrs. Bryce is on my ass. Maybe next time, then?"

"Definitely next time," Jason responded, and winked at you. "Just you and me, I promise." When he left, your friends closed ranks around you, howling at what had just happened. You caught Eddie's eyes above their heads -- he was watching you, chin in his hand.

"What was that all about," he asked, walking you out of the cafeteria. "Jason wanted to recruit you to his Bible study, or something?" He tucked you hair behind your ear and twisted so he was leaning against a locker, watching you fumble.

"I think," you said slowly, piecing together the encounter in your brain, "he asked me out."

Eddie slipped against the locker. "What, like a date?"

"No, like a multi-level marketing scheme," you retorted, and flipped your hair over your shoulder. "Yes, like a date, Eddie." He crowed, punching a fist in the air. "Uh. That's not the reaction I was expecting."

Eddie grinned, pulling you into his arms. "That asshole has been a stick up my ass for almost my whole life," he exclaimed. "Finally I have the high ground."

You looked at him drily. "What am I, chattel?"

He cooed, pressing your cheeks together between his palms. "Just the prettiest chattel this side of the Mississippi, babygirl." He snuck a kiss from you. "Aw, princess. This made my week. Nothing could make this better."

--

"Okay," Eddie huffed against your mouth as he pressed you up against the hood of your car, "this could definitely make my week better. Get my lawyer to scratch that from my record."

"Oh my god," you muttered, pulling him between your legs. "Literally, shut up."

"Shutting up."

Eddie threaded his hands through your hair, tugging it gently until your mouth opened against his, sticking his hands in the pockets of your jeans and grabbing. "Eddie!" you gasped, wrenching your head back. "Quit it, we're in school."

"Mmm," he mumbled, nosing at your neck. "It's technically after hours." That was true. You were picking him up from Hellfire, taking him back to yours for dinner with your parents, like you did every Tuesday night. "Is a school still a school if it's not operating as a school?"

"I dropped AP Philosophy," you whispered, entirely too focused on how his hands were snaking up your back. "So I have no idea."

"I don't really care," Eddie agreed, "but we can totally have a Socratic debate about it la-aaaaah the fuck?"

He was hauled away from you by his collar, arms flailing at his assailant. Jason. "The fuck are you doing here, freak?" Jason spat, before turning to look at you. "Hey. Is he bothering you?"

"Uh," you said, intelligently. "No?"

Jason blinked. "Wh-- you? What are you doing here?" he asked you, staring. "I thought you said you had to do homework?"

"Hi," Eddie said, dangling from Jason’s iron grip. "I'm homework."

#eddie munson x female character #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fic #jason carver x reader #lol

[capricorn-season]

10 JUNE 2020

J.K. Rowling Writes about Her Reasons for Speaking out on Sex and Gender Issues

Warning: The below content is not appropriate for children. Please check with an adult before you read this page. 

This isn’t an easy piece to write, for reasons that will shortly become clear, but I know it’s time to explain myself on an issue surrounded by toxicity. I write this without any desire to add to that toxicity.

For people who don’t know: last December I tweeted my support for Maya Forstater, a tax specialist who’d lost her job for what were deemed ‘transphobic’ tweets. She took her case to an employment tribunal, asking the judge to rule on whether a philosophical belief that sex is determined by biology is protected in law. Judge Tayler ruled that it wasn’t.

My interest in trans issues pre-dated Maya’s case by almost two years, during which I followed the debate around the concept of gender identity closely. I’ve met trans people, and read sundry books, blogs and articles by trans people, gender specialists, intersex people, psychologists, safeguarding experts, social workers and doctors, and followed the discourse online and in traditional media. On one level, my interest in this issue has been professional, because I’m writing a crime series, set in the present day, and my fictional female detective is of an age to be interested in, and affected by, these issues herself, but on another, it’s intensely personal, as I’m about to explain.

All the time I’ve been researching and learning, accusations and threats from trans activists have been bubbling in my Twitter timeline. This was initially triggered by a ‘like’. When I started taking an interest in gender identity and transgender matters, I began screenshotting comments that interested me, as a way of reminding myself what I might want to research later. On one occasion, I absent-mindedly ‘liked’ instead of screenshotting. That single ‘like’ was deemed evidence of wrongthink, and a persistent low level of harassment began.

Months later, I compounded my accidental ‘like’ crime by following Magdalen Berns on Twitter. Magdalen was an immensely brave young feminist and lesbian who was dying of an aggressive brain tumour. I followed her because I wanted to contact her directly, which I succeeded in doing. However, as Magdalen was a great believer in the importance of biological sex, and didn’t believe lesbians should be called bigots for not dating trans women with penises, dots were joined in the heads of twitter trans activists, and the level of social media abuse increased.

I mention all this only to explain that I knew perfectly well what was going to happen when I supported Maya. I must have been on my fourth or fifth cancellation by then. I expected the threats of violence, to be told I was literally killing trans people with my hate, to be called cunt and bitch and, of course, for my books to be burned, although one particularly abusive man told me he’d composted them.

What I didn’t expect in the aftermath of my cancellation was the avalanche of emails and letters that came showering down upon me, the overwhelming majority of which were positive, grateful and supportive. They came from a cross-section of kind, empathetic and intelligent people, some of them working in fields dealing with gender dysphoria and trans people, who’re all deeply concerned about the way a socio-political concept is influencing politics, medical practice and safeguarding. They’re worried about the dangers to young people, gay people and about the erosion of women’s and girl’s rights. Above all, they’re worried about a climate of fear that serves nobody – least of all trans youth – well.

I’d stepped back from Twitter for many months both before and after tweeting support for Maya, because I knew it was doing nothing good for my mental health. I only returned because I wanted to share a free children’s book during the pandemic. Immediately, activists who clearly believe themselves to be good, kind and progressive people swarmed back into my timeline, assuming a right to police my speech, accuse me of hatred, call me misogynistic slurs and, above all – as every woman involved in this debate will know – TERF.

If you didn’t already know – and why should you? – ‘TERF’ is an acronym coined by trans activists, which stands for Trans-Exclusionary Radical Feminist. In practice, a huge and diverse cross-section of women are currently being called TERFs and the vast majority have never been radical feminists. Examples of so-called TERFs range from the mother of a gay child who was afraid their child wanted to transition to escape homophobic bullying, to a hitherto totally unfeminist older lady who’s vowed never to visit Marks & Spencer again because they’re allowing any man who says they identify as a woman into the women’s changing rooms. Ironically, radical feminists aren’t even trans-exclusionary – they include trans men in their feminism, because they were born women.

But accusations of TERFery have been sufficient to intimidate many people, institutions and organisations I once admired, who’re cowering before the tactics of the playground. ‘They’ll call us transphobic!’ ‘They’ll say I hate trans people!’ What next, they’ll say you’ve got fleas? Speaking as a biological woman, a lot of people in positions of power really need to grow a pair (which is doubtless literally possible, according to the kind of people who argue that clownfish prove humans aren’t a dimorphic species).

So why am I doing this? Why speak up? Why not quietly do my research and keep my head down?

Well, I’ve got five reasons for being worried about the new trans activism, and deciding I need to speak up.

Firstly, I have a charitable trust that focuses on alleviating social deprivation in Scotland, with a particular emphasis on women and children. Among other things, my trust supports projects for female prisoners and for survivors of domestic and sexual abuse. I also fund medical research into MS, a disease that behaves very differently in men and women. It’s been clear to me for a while that the new trans activism is having (or is likely to have, if all its demands are met) a significant impact on many of the causes I support, because it’s pushing to erode the legal definition of sex and replace it with gender.

The second reason is that I’m an ex-teacher and the founder of a children’s charity, which gives me an interest in both education and safeguarding. Like many others, I have deep concerns about the effect the trans rights movement is having on both.

The third is that, as a much-banned author, I’m interested in freedom of speech and have publicly defended it, even unto Donald Trump.

The fourth is where things start to get truly personal. I’m concerned about the huge explosion in young women wishing to transition and also about the increasing numbers who seem to be detransitioning (returning to their original sex), because they regret taking steps that have, in some cases, altered their bodies irrevocably, and taken away their fertility. Some say they decided to transition after realising they were same-sex attracted, and that transitioning was partly driven by homophobia, either in society or in their families.

Most people probably aren’t aware – I certainly wasn’t, until I started researching this issue properly – that ten years ago, the majority of people wanting to transition to the opposite sex were male. That ratio has now reversed. The UK has experienced a 4400% increase in girls being referred for transitioning treatment. Autistic girls are hugely overrepresented in their numbers.

The same phenomenon has been seen in the US. In 2018,  American physician and researcher Lisa Littman set out to explore it. In an interview, she said:

‘Parents online were describing a very unusual pattern of transgender-identification where multiple friends and even entire friend groups became transgender-identified at the same time. I would have been remiss had I not considered social contagion and peer influences as potential factors.’

Littman mentioned Tumblr, Reddit, Instagram and YouTube as contributing factors to Rapid Onset Gender Dysphoria, where she believes that in the realm of transgender identification ‘youth have created particularly insular echo chambers.’

Her paper caused a furore. She was accused of bias and of spreading misinformation about transgender people, subjected to a tsunami of abuse and a concerted campaign to discredit both her and her work. The journal took the paper offline and re-reviewed it before republishing it. However, her career took a similar hit to that suffered by Maya Forstater. Lisa Littman had dared challenge one of the central tenets of trans activism, which is that a person’s gender identity is innate, like sexual orientation. Nobody, the activists insisted, could ever be persuaded into being trans.

The argument of many current trans activists is that if you don’t let a gender dysphoric teenager transition, they will kill themselves. In an article explaining why he resigned from the Tavistock (an NHS gender clinic in England) psychiatrist Marcus Evans stated that claims that children will kill themselves if not permitted to transition do not ‘align substantially with any robust data or studies in this area. Nor do they align with the cases I have encountered over decades as a psychotherapist.’

The writings of young trans men reveal a group of notably sensitive and clever people.  The more of their accounts of gender dysphoria I’ve read, with their insightful descriptions of anxiety, dissociation, eating disorders, self-harm and self-hatred, the more I’ve wondered whether, if I’d been born 30 years later, I too might have tried to transition. The allure of escaping womanhood would have been huge. I struggled with severe OCD as a teenager. If I’d found community and sympathy online that I couldn’t find in my immediate environment, I believe I could have been persuaded to turn myself into the son my father had openly said he’d have preferred.

When I read about the theory of gender identity, I remember how mentally sexless I felt in youth. I remember Colette’s description of herself as a ‘mental hermaphrodite’ and Simone de Beauvoir’s words: ‘It is perfectly natural for the future woman to feel indignant at the limitations posed upon her by her sex. The real question is not why she should reject them: the problem is rather to understand why she accepts them.’

As I didn’t have a realistic possibility of becoming a man back in the 1980s, it had to be books and music that got me through both my mental health issues and the sexualised scrutiny and judgement that sets so many girls to war against their bodies in their teens. Fortunately for me, I found my own sense of otherness, and my ambivalence about being a woman, reflected in the work of female writers and musicians who reassured me that, in spite of everything a sexist world tries to throw at the female-bodied, it’s fine not to feel pink, frilly and compliant inside your own head; it’s OK to feel confused, dark, both sexual and non-sexual, unsure of what or who you are.

I want to be very clear here: I know transition will be a solution for some gender dysphoric people, although I’m also aware through extensive research that studies have consistently shown that between 60-90% of gender dysphoric teens will grow out of their dysphoria. Again and again I’ve been told to ‘just meet some trans people.’ I have: in addition to a few younger people, who were all adorable, I happen to know a self-described transsexual woman who’s older than I am and wonderful. Although she’s open about her past as a gay man, I’ve always found it hard to think of her as anything other than a woman, and I believe (and certainly hope) she’s completely happy to have transitioned. Being older, though, she went through a long and rigorous process of evaluation, psychotherapy and staged transformation. The current explosion of trans activism is urging a removal of almost all the robust systems through which candidates for sex reassignment were once required to pass. A man who intends to have no surgery and take no hormones may now secure himself a Gender Recognition Certificate and be a woman in the sight of the law. Many people aren’t aware of this.

We’re living through the most misogynistic period I’ve experienced. Back in the 80s, I imagined that my future daughters, should I have any, would have it far better than I ever did, but between the backlash against feminism and a porn-saturated online culture, I believe things have got significantly worse for girls. Never have I seen women denigrated and dehumanised to the extent they are now. From the leader of the free world’s long history of sexual assault accusations and his proud boast of ‘grabbing them by the pussy’, to the incel (‘involuntarily celibate’) movement that rages against women who won’t give them sex, to the trans activists who declare that TERFs need punching and re-educating, men across the political spectrum seem to agree: women are asking for trouble. Everywhere, women are being told to shut up and sit down, or else.

I’ve read all the arguments about femaleness not residing in the sexed body, and the assertions that biological women don’t have common experiences, and I find them, too, deeply misogynistic and regressive. It’s also clear that one of the objectives of denying the importance of sex is to erode what some seem to see as the cruelly segregationist idea of women having their own biological realities or – just as threatening – unifying realities that make them a cohesive political class. The hundreds of emails I’ve received in the last few days prove this erosion concerns many others just as much.  It isn’t enough for women to be trans allies. Women must accept and admit that there is no material difference between trans women and themselves.

But, as many women have said before me, ‘woman’ is not a costume. ‘Woman’ is not an idea in a man’s head. ‘Woman’ is not a pink brain, a liking for Jimmy Choos or any of the other sexist ideas now somehow touted as progressive. Moreover, the ‘inclusive’ language that calls female people ‘menstruators’ and ‘people with vulvas’ strikes many women as dehumanising and demeaning. I understand why trans activists consider this language to be appropriate and kind, but for those of us who’ve had degrading slurs spat at us by violent men, it’s not neutral, it’s hostile and alienating.

Which brings me to the fifth reason I’m deeply concerned about the consequences of the current trans activism.

I’ve been in the public eye now for over twenty years and have never talked publicly about being a domestic abuse and sexual assault survivor. This isn’t because I’m ashamed those things happened to me, but because they’re traumatic to revisit and remember. I also feel protective of my daughter from my first marriage. I didn’t want to claim sole ownership of a story that belongs to her, too. However, a short while ago, I asked her how she’d feel if I were publicly honest about that part of my life, and she encouraged me to go ahead.

I’m mentioning these things now not in an attempt to garner sympathy, but out of solidarity with the huge numbers of women who have histories like mine, who’ve been slurred as bigots for having concerns around single-sex spaces.

I managed to escape my first violent marriage with some difficulty, but I’m now married to a truly good and principled man, safe and secure in ways I never in a million years expected to be. However, the scars left by violence and sexual assault don’t disappear, no matter how loved you are, and no matter how much money you’ve made. My perennial jumpiness is a family joke – and even I know it’s funny – but I pray my daughters never have the same reasons I do for hating sudden loud noises, or finding people behind me when I haven’t heard them approaching.

If you could come inside my head and understand what I feel when I read about a trans woman dying at the hands of a violent man, you’d find solidarity and kinship. I have a visceral sense of the terror in which those trans women will have spent their last seconds on earth, because I too have known moments of blind fear when I realised that the only thing keeping me alive was the shaky self-restraint of my attacker.

I believe the majority of trans-identified people not only pose zero threat to others, but are vulnerable for all the reasons I’ve outlined. Trans people need and deserve protection. Like women, they’re most likely to be killed by sexual partners. Trans women who work in the sex industry, particularly trans women of colour, are at particular risk. Like every other domestic abuse and sexual assault survivor I know, I feel nothing but empathy and solidarity with trans women who’ve been abused by men.

So I want trans women to be safe. At the same time, I do not want to make natal girls and women less safe. When you throw open the doors of bathrooms and changing rooms to any man who believes or feels he’s a woman – and, as I’ve said, gender confirmation certificates may now be granted without any need for surgery or hormones – then you open the door to any and all men who wish to come inside. That is the simple truth.

On Saturday morning, I read that the Scottish government is proceeding with its controversial gender recognition plans, which will in effect mean that all a man needs to ‘become a woman’ is to say he’s one. To use a very contemporary word, I was ‘triggered’. Ground down by the relentless attacks from trans activists on social media, when I was only there to give children feedback about pictures they’d drawn for my book under lockdown, I spent much of Saturday in a very dark place inside my head, as memories of a serious sexual assault I suffered in my twenties recurred on a loop. That assault happened at a time and in a space where I was vulnerable, and a man capitalised on an opportunity.  I couldn’t shut out those memories and I was finding it hard to contain my anger and disappointment about the way I believe my government is playing fast and loose with womens and girls’ safety.

Late on Saturday evening, scrolling through children’s pictures before I went to bed, I forgot the first rule of Twitter – never, ever expect a nuanced conversation – and reacted to what I felt was degrading language about women. I spoke up about the importance of sex and have been paying the price ever since. I was transphobic, I was a cunt, a bitch, a TERF, I deserved cancelling, punching and death. You are Voldemort said one person, clearly feeling this was the only language I’d understand.

It would be so much easier to tweet the approved hashtags – because of course trans rights are human rights and of course trans lives matter – scoop up the woke cookies and bask in a virtue-signalling afterglow. There’s joy, relief and safety in conformity. As Simone de Beauvoir also wrote, “… without a doubt it is more comfortable to endure blind bondage than to work for one’s liberation; the dead, too, are better suited to the earth than the living.”

Huge numbers of women are justifiably terrified by the trans activists; I know this because so many have got in touch with me to tell their stories. They’re afraid of doxxing, of losing their jobs or their livelihoods, and of violence.

But endlessly unpleasant as its constant targeting of me has been, I refuse to bow down to a movement that I believe is doing demonstrable harm in seeking to erode ‘woman’ as a political and biological class and offering cover to predators like few before it. I stand alongside the brave women and men, gay, straight and trans, who’re standing up for freedom of speech and thought, and for the rights and safety of some of the most vulnerable in our society: young gay kids, fragile teenagers, and women who’re reliant on and wish to retain their single sex spaces. Polls show those women are in the vast majority, and exclude only those privileged or lucky enough never to have come up against male violence or sexual assault, and who’ve never troubled to educate themselves on how prevalent it is.

The one thing that gives me hope is that the women who can protest and organise, are doing so, and they have some truly decent men and trans people alongside them. Political parties seeking to appease the loudest voices in this debate are ignoring women’s concerns at their peril. In the UK, women are reaching out to each other across party lines, concerned about the erosion of their hard-won rights and widespread intimidation. None of the gender critical women I’ve talked to hates trans people; on the contrary. Many of them became interested in this issue in the first place out of concern for trans youth, and they’re hugely sympathetic towards trans adults who simply want to live their lives, but who’re facing a backlash for a brand of activism they don’t endorse. The supreme irony is that the attempt to silence women with the word ‘TERF’ may have pushed more young women towards radical feminism than the movement’s seen in decades.

The last thing I want to say is this. I haven’t written this essay in the hope that anybody will get out a violin for me, not even a teeny-weeny one. I’m extraordinarily fortunate; I’m a survivor, certainly not a victim. I’ve only mentioned my past because, like every other human being on this planet, I have a complex backstory, which shapes my fears, my interests and my opinions. I never forget that inner complexity when I’m creating a fictional character and I certainly never forget it when it comes to trans people.

All I’m asking – all I want – is for similar empathy, similar understanding, to be extended to the many millions of women whose sole crime is wanting their concerns to be heard without receiving threats and abuse.

#women #gender critical #jk rowling #text #artículo

[psychoportalnauts]

Reconstructing Caroline

In Portal canon, Caroline is already a certified narrative haunter, but in this AU she plays an even bigger role; plus, we get to see her through the eyes of other characters. So, I thought it'll be interesting to compile her most prominent* appearances, both as herself and as Gladys.

* — Sadly, I haven't put much thought into Clairvoyance images or figments featuring her yet... Maybe sometime later?

...

Gladys Calvin and Caroline Caramia:

That's right, they have last names now, like any self-respecting Psychonauts character should. I'm not even kidding, announcing this fact was literally the main goal of this post. If you know what (or, rather, who) Gladys's last name refers to, go get some choccy milk bc that makes you epic in my eyes. If you know how to pronounce Caroline's last name, go get an extra glass, because even I'm not sure about the right pronunciation.

To quickly recap their backstory for posterity: when Cave Johnson died (?) and things went super south for Aperture Paranormal, Agent Caramia was so scared of accidentally revealing the dark secrets of the company, she saw no other choice but to blow up her mind with a lil' bit of help from a certain someone. After that, a new person emerged from the rubble of Caroline's fractured mind — Gladys, the ultimate skeptic. Her goal is to disprove the existence of psychic powers, which she deems to be nothing more than pseudoscience, and close off Aperture Paranormal and/or Psychonauts at large; this agenda, however, doesn't stop her from using these same powers herself.

Rattenkönigin, The Rat Queen:

Finally, some genuine Psychonauts creepiness in a Psychonauts AU. This giant rat that makes all the rules is the final boss of Rattmann's mindscape. Not unlike El Odio, she roams the level, hanging from the sky and using her hands to stride around and catch unsuspecting victims — her main goals, however, are Doug and his faithful friend, Companion Cube.

There's a strategy to fighting her, albeit an involved one. You have to utilise Invisibility, which Doug fortunately bestows upon Chell, to avoid being caught, and Psi-Blast to shoot smaller rats — only when they're down will the main hand drop the head rat and make it vulnerable. And you also want to avoid the Confusion gas explosions these smaller rats emit, because apparently they're just as prone to do that upon defeat as the rats from Thorney Tower.

Lifeline:

Found in Mr. Johnson's mind, this is the first version of Caroline proper that's encountered by Chell and Wheatley. Pretty as a postcard, and just as flat, this lovely assistant may not carry over the intelligence, or exact height, of her real-world progenitor, but that doesn't stop her from staying fiercely loyal to Cave. She even calls him her "noble psychomaster" — now that's an odd nickname. But I do wonder what Cave thinks of her...

#psychoportal #psychonauts #portal #portal 2 #glados #caroline #companion cube #(...arguably) #rattenkönigin #lifeline #blood #next up: patch notes for chell and wheatley's last names

[bbygirl-aemond]

When Dragons Disobey Their Riders

Hi all! I wanted to comment on something that recurs in both Fire and Blood and A Song of Ice and Fire: Instances of dragons blatantly disobeying their riders, often even after multiple attempts by their riders to correct them. If you look at the context of the scenes where this occurs, I think it actually does a lot to show us the level of intelligence and agency that dragons have. Most importantly, in all of the scenes I'm about to discuss, the dragon is not disobeying their rider out of malevolent intent. They are actually trying to protect their rider, and think that their rider is making a request that would put them in danger.

Our first mention of this is with Alysanne Targaryen and her dragon Silverwing, in Fire and Blood. Alysanne is up North, by the Wall, and attempts three separate times to direct Silverwing north of the wall, but Silverwing refuses each time. Some people think Silverwing was wary of the cold, but I think this is unlikely since otherwise she would have refused to come that far north entirely. I think it's much more likely that Silverwing knew some freaky magic was going on beyond the Wall, and that it could be very dangerous for her rider.

Our second mention of this is with Area Targaryen and her dragon Balerion, in Fire and Blood. On her first ride with Balerion, Aerea disappeared for over a year, and both rider and dragon returned severely injured. Aerea's illness in particular was just straight up terrifying and very gorey, and she eventually died from it. Because of this, it's suspected that Balerion actually took Aerea to Old Valyria and that they encountered some freaky magic there. At this point in time, Aerea was trying to escape and go home, and there's a popular theory that Balerion, doing his best to obey her request, took her to the place he thought of as his home.

Our third mention of this is with Lucerys Velaryon and his dragon Arrax, in Season 1 Episode 10 of HotD. When dragon and rider are being pursued by a much bigger dragon, Lucerys is unable to calm Arrax down, and he attacks, which eventually leads to both of their deaths. Arrax is quite young, and he very obviously did this because he was feeling cornered and threatened, and felt like he had to defend himself and his rider.

Our fourth mention of this is with Aemond Targaryen and his dragon Vhagar, in the same episode, right after Arrax's attack. If you go back and look at GIFs of what this attack actually presented as, note the side the attack came from. Arrax flames Vhagar's entire head, and he does it from her left side-- the same side where her rider is blind, specifically because Arrax's rider blinded her rider. It's no wonder Vhagar retaliated; she felt that her rider had been attacked in a very vulnerable place by the same person who made her rider vulnerable and never demonstrated remorse for doing so.

Our fifth and final mention of this is with Daenerys Targaryen and her dragon Drogon, in the A Song of Ice and Fire series. For those of you who watched Game of Thrones, I'm talking about the scene in Mereen where Drogon rescues her from the assassination attempt in the fighting pits. Daenerys wants to remain in Mereen and continue to try to handle the conflict there, but Drogon ignores her commands and flies far off into the wilderness. As far as Drogon's concerned, Mereen isn't safe for Daenerys, so why should she want to stay there?

I think these instances all point to dragons being intelligent, but not enough to really understand politics--that, or they don't care. Vhagar doesn't understand or care that killing Arrax and Lucerys will cause a war; just as Drogon doesn't understand or care that Daenerys wants to remain in Mereen to rule. They prioritize their riders' wellbeing and demonstrate that they don't always think their riders know best. This makes a ton of sense especially for the older, more experienced dragons, who probably had to make more decisions during combat in order to keep their riders alive rather than just waiting for commands.

#hotd meta #asoiaf meta #got meta #got #hotd #asoiaf #game of thrones #house of the dragon #vhagar #arrax #silverwing #balerion #drogon #alysanne targaryen #aerea targaryen #aemond targaryen #lucerys velaryon #lucerys strong #luke velaryon #luke strong #aemond #luke #lucerys #alysanne #aerea #aemond one eye #daenerys targaryen #daenerys

[kookslastbutton]

Love's Remedy ༓ jjk (m) l Ch. III

✑ Summary: Jungkook is a romantic. He comes from a highly intelligent family who wants him to carry out the lineage. Being this way, he goes to college to be a pharmacist but his friends say college isn't just about studying! With a little persuasion, he goes to his first frat party thinking his hat will help him pick up a girl-or woman he means.

Pairing: STEM major!virgin!jungkook x STEM major!hot girl!reader

AU/genre: angst, smut, fluff, s2l, college au, mini-series

Rating: M, 18+

Word Count: 4,378

Warnings: jk is very determined to "win" oc, jk a romantic, oc has philophobia (fear of relationships), protective!koo again, oc is an engineering student, PC Bang, jk is a king at LOL (League of Legends), jk lowkey flirts with new person, oc gets cold feet but please don't blame her 🥹, jk and oc get on level ground after hashing things through, themes of stalker-ish behavior (not oc or jk!), feat Jackson and Jae-beom, if i missed warning lmk!

Now Playing: seven, summertime sadness, she’s kerosene, angels like you+

A/N: For reference a PC Bang is: "a type of LAN gaming center and Internet cafe in South Korea, where patrons can play multiplayer computer games for an hourly fee". Also, I am not a gaming guru but I try for this chapter that means I researched haha Enjoy! 💞

<< ch. II ༓ ch. IV >> | series masterlist

A week later, Jungkook waits for you at your agreed rendezvous point; for over an hour. You promised to meet him near the campus garden at 7 pm but here it is almost 8 pm and you're a no-show.

He checks his phone for the fourteenth time since arriving–no reply.

Jungkook tries not to jump to conclusions but you broke your word and you ghosted him.

He thinks back to last week when he'd stepped between you and Jun-ho. And when you followed him back to his dorm where he told you he could love and take care of you, as you helped patch his wound. Had he come on too strong? Did you get into more trouble that he didn't know about?

He kicks a few pebbles by his feet, sending them flying in every which way, as the number of endless possibilities rattles his brain.

"Stupid," he cusses himself. "You're just so fucking stupid."

How could he believe that after two short weeks of random run-ins with you that he'd earn your interest? You told him you don't do relationships yet he still shows up, anxiously presenting himself as your knight in shining armor. Any sane person would tell him he was barking up a dead tree.

"Might as well get a head start on next week's homework." Jungkook loses hope, trotting back to the dormitory with the wind howling and mocking behind him.

"What do you mean she ditched you?" The boisterous inquisition belongs to Jackson who's looking thoroughly offended once hearing his new best friend was shown up. He isn't sure how much this woman meant to him, but either way, it makes him livid. Even if you weren't going to go out with him, you should've at least told him like a decent human being.

"I really thought she'd come," Jungkook replies with his heavy eyes. He walks alongside the blonde-haired boy, dirt crunching below his feet. "Guess she had something better to do."

"No." Jackson stops in the middle of the road. "You know who actually has better things to do? It's you. What do you say to hitting up the PC Bang downtown? Play a little League of Legends or Overwatch?"

Jungkook shrugs with less enthusiasm than a snail. "Sure…"

"Hey man," Jackson puts a hand on Jungkook's shoulder. "I'm sorry about you and __. It sucks being stood up. I've had my fair share and you just gotta take it as a blessing that nothing else happened between you both. Nine times out of ten, it didn't have anything to do with you either so don't blame yourself. Take it as a lesson and keep working on yourself until the right person shows up. They'll be the person you can truly give yourself to."

"Hard to believe you've been shown up. You're charismatic, confident, in good shape, have good facial features, and you're getting your MD." Jungkook's aware of his friend's attempt to lift his spirits but he can't fathom anyone not giving Jackson the time of day. Due looks like a pop star in the making.

"Nah, most of what you just said is me bullshitting my way through life. I'm not all that," Jackson rejects, striding forward. "I got rejected by a girl a few days ago myself."

"Had a boyfriend?"

"Nope, just didn't like me. And she doesn't go out with first -years apparently."

"Oh," Jungkook's eyebrows shoot up. "She was an upperclassman?"

"Yup, on her third year."

At this Jungkook's mouth gapes open. "No wonder she said no. What the hell are you doing trying to go out with a third-year?” The accusatory tone spins Jackson's head–he's a sad little puppy with you but a bulldog with him. What a puzzling fellow.

"Same thing you're doing trying to convince someone who doesn't want a relationship to go out with you."

Jungkook dials back his previous assertion. "We're idiots."

"Correction. we're dreamers." Jackson slaps him on the shoulder. "C'mon, let's go burn some shit up at the internet cafe."

By the time he and Jackson get to the cafe nearly all the computers are taken. It's no surprise since PC Bang's are quite a rave amongst university students like themselves. You can play the hottest games for hours while stuffing yourself full with whatever food's served on the cafe menu–all for a small fee of course.

"Let's go here." Jackson manages to grab two free id cards from the counter–guiding them to two empty PCs, side by side to each other. "How long do you want to play for?"

Jungkook sinks himself in the leather gaming chair and powers on the machine in front of him. "I'm good until 6 pm, but then I should head back to my dorm and do homework."

"Cool, same for me. We'll play for three hours then."

"What should we play?" Jungkook tosses the headset over his ears and scrolls through the game options. Jackson does the same.

"Kinda in the mood for LOL." He flips to the game's screen card. "Gonna need to join a team though."

"No problem.," Jungkook clicks the game on his own pc until the loading screen covers his view. "So many people play League of Legends. We'll be able to find one in no time."

Jackson nods and opens LOL himself. "Let's kick some ass."

"Fuck yeah," Jungkook mumbles, inaudible to everyone but himself.

An hour passes and he and Jackson have been hammering their opponents into the digital abyss. The thrill and surge of adrenaline cause him to forget previous heartaches–aka you. Plus, after finding a team of three to jump into; one member who happens to be female, Jungkook's been able to turn his attention to other prospects.

"Soomin, how long have you been playing LOL for?" Jungkook decides to learn more about his female teammate after claiming the final victory over the opposing team.

"Five years," her raspy voice comes through his headset. It sure is a unique voice, he notes.

"Same. We should play on a team more often. In fact, Jackson and I are thinking about building an official LOL team so we could use a third person. You're really good so if you want, we'd love to have you." Beside him, his friend gives him a confused look. 'We are?' he mouths silently which Jungkook ignores.

"Wait really?" She pauses a moment. "I've never been on a permanent team before. I guess that'd be cool."

"I play late at night sometimes too. Meaning if you ever wanna jump on with me shoot me a message or something."

"Alright, I'll jot down your username."

"Already got yours memorized," he says, a tad more cocky than he meant.

"Damn," she cusses. "You work fast. By the way, do you go to university?"

"Yeah, I go to Seoul National University."

"No way, what year are you? I attend there too. I'm a second-year."

"What?!" He nearly hits the ceiling once the information is disclosed. He had no idea Soomin would be this close and that he could meet her in person. call him eager but should he ask her out? No…he's already made that move with you and look where it left him. He'll ask to hang out first. "We should meet Soomin. As long as you don't mind that I'm a first-year that is," Jungkook chuckle lightly and looks over to Jackson who immediately gives him a double thumbs up.

"Well I'm kinda busy this week but how about next week? Also, if it's good with you, can my boyfriend come?"

Fuck. If this is some kinda joke he'd like to catch a break any time now. Not that he was as intrigued with Soomin as he was, or still is, with you but he definitely thought it was going somewhere!

"You're dating?" Jungkook watches Jackson lower his double thumbs up, frowny face on.

"Yeah, we've been together for a year. Met as classmates." When she giggles Jungkook has the unexpected urge to roll his eyes. Of course, you did, he mutters, just a perfectly peachy coincidence for you two.

"Well that's nice," he says bitterly.

"Oh, I'm sorry Jungkook. He's actually calling me now so I have to go but I'll talk to you soon. And message me when you want to meet. I'll tell my boyfriend about you!"

Great. Jungkook bids her goodbye and she signs off.

"Sorry about Soomin. She seemed cute." Jackson slides his headset off his ears to rest them around his neck. "But you know what? You're still a force to be reckoned with inside the virtual world. I honestly don't know how you do it."

Jungkook grins shyly and slips his headset on the desk. "I've been playing for a long time. Must be something to do with that." He throws a hand over his abdomen when his stomach rumbles at the same time. "We should order food." He browses the cafe's extensive menu on his pc. Nothing but rows and rows of tasty options flash back at him, urging him to spend fortunes.

Still, he's got to cap it at some point with only about 2,000,000 Korean won (about 1,500 USD) in his bank account. The Jeon family is wealthy but Jungkook is not. His parents are especially careful to inform him that generational wealth is not going to be given to him freely. Instead, he is to earn his own money, starting at the car wash which he worked at over the summer.

"I'm getting an order of Tteokbokki and a soju. What about you?" Jackson punches in his order, sparing a glance at Jungkook who's tapping on his keyboard with one hand while the other rests under his chin.

"The Jjajangmyeon looks good. I'll get that with a soju too." After Jungkook enters in his own order he strolls his chair out from under the gaming table. "Do you see a bathroom around here?"

"Yeah, it's all the way to that far right corner." Jackson points in that direction with his thumb.

"Okay, I'll be right back."

Bathroom, bathroom, bathroom.

Jungkook repeats the simple word to himself. He scans the corner Jackson gestured towards earlier but sees nothing except a giant blank wall. Must have meant the opposite direction. He turns himself around to scout the other side of the floor.

"Excuse me sir-" a voice chimes close behind him.

"Oh sorry." He steps aside to let the young lady by and as soon as he does his whole body jerks forward in shock. "__!"

You turn around with the tray of food in your hand in what looks like a work uniform. "Yes, what can I do–Kookie?" You grip the plastic tray firmer to keep it from shaking uncontrollably, though the clamminess of your palms makes it a challenging task. Seeing Jungkook at the place you work was bound to happen being that the PC Bang is close to the university. You just weren't prepared for it to be tonight during one of your last shifts of the season.

"I didn't know you worked here."

"Yeah, only part-time." After bumping into Jungkook moments ago, you found it inevitable to avoid him further. You agreed to meet him outside once your break started. "I'm planning on leaving before the semester gets crazy. I have about a week left probably."

It dawns on Jungkook that he doesn't know what you study so with shifty eyes and clenched fists, he asks. "What are you going for?"

"Engineering." You can tell he wasn't expecting that for an answer; most don't be a woman in the field and all. "Jungkook, let's not do this. I'm sorry about what happened the other night." A sick queasy feeling settles in your gut–you're well aware you did Jungkook wrong. You're not proud of it in the slightest and him standing in front of you right now only reminds you of your guilt.

"I waited for you __. You said you come even if it was a rejection." A twinge of hurt laces behind his words and he keeps a controlled stance. He doesn't get in your face, demanding for an answer, nor does he break down and cry. He's more inquisitive than anything else. "Where were you? Why didn't you come?"

"I–" You intertwine your fingers, a nervous habit you picked up in childhood. "I panicked Kookie. I'm so sorry."

Jungkook stiffens when he hears the endearing name drop from your soft lips again. It was nice at first but now it feels like a sharp pain twisting in his side, like a thorn only for his misery. "Can you not call me that, please? It's–It's making me uncomfortable."

"Oh god," you lunge forward out of instinct but freeze when he steps back. "Jungkook I really am sorry. I was planning to see you. I had my shoes on and everything. Like I said I panicked, I'm not suited for relationships. And I'm not suited for you."

The last part stings the most.

"But–"

“There’s no buts Jungkook." You place your hand on the door of the building. " I have to get back to work."

"Wait!"Jungkook moves to face in front of you from an angle. "You say you're not suited for relationships but why did you get ready to see me? Why didn't you just say no to me? And last week when you told me you needed more time to think…was it a lie?"

"Because I like you okay? You're cute, protective, sweet, but you like me too much." you release the handle. "You don't know anything about me yet you've already got into a fistfight with an obscene jerk for me and claim you'll wait for me even when you just met me. If you love me this much now how much more will you love me later?"

" I'll love you for eternity."

"See this is it, Jeon. You saying stuff like this before anything real has happened between us–it's too much. How can you be this devoted to basically a stranger? You'll love me for eternity but have you considered that maybe I won't?"

"What are you saying?"

"What makes you think I'll love you as much as you do me?"

" I don't think like that __. I don't want a relationship so I can see what I can get. that's not how my mind works. I understand that I've been very forward with you. I should have been more conscientious about how that would make you feel but when I say that I love–"

"Please, don't drop the 'L' word. If you're saying love then you don't love me; only the idea of me."

Jungkook pauses, wordless

"Never thought of it that way huh? Guess not. Let me ask you something…do you know what I do? With men?"

He swallows and shakes his head no

"I sleep with them. A new guy a week if not twice a week. People call me a whore, and I'm spreading my legs for everyone and anyone willing. Do you want to get involved with someone like that?" You wipe away an escaped tear.

"I don't care about that at all __."

"Well, you should! This is who I am Jungkook. I can't let you be responsible for me. So unless you want a one-night stand or a friends-with-benefits relationship, I suggest you forget about me. I can't be your girlfriend."

"__!" Your manager shoves the front door open, causing you and Jungkook to jolt in surprise. " Where have you been? We have about twenty orders that need to be served."

"Sorry Manager Choi. I'll get right on it." You spare Jungkook one last glance before disappearing back inside the PC Bang. "I'm sorry," you say with a lowered head.

That night Jungkook lays on his bed, thumb hovering over your name in his contacts list. His logical side whispers for him to delete it. His heart says to call, text, or do something to–no. He remembers your pained facial expression; on the verge of tears as you explained to him that he'd been too quick in making his mind up about you. But then he replays your final words.

"…unless you want a one-night stand or a friends-with-benefits relationship, I suggest you forget about me. I can't be your girlfriend."

Well, he doesn't want the first two but if it meant he could be in your life longer–stop. His logical side intrudes. "You don't want to go down that path," he matters to himself. "It's better if you just delete the number." Jungkook moves to tap the trash can icon on your phone contact, a pang in his chest. Just as he's mustered up enough strength his phone buzzes off, screen lighting the entirety of the darkened dorm room. His roommate groans at the sound and rolls over in their bed.

"Jungkook," said roommate rubs his face. "I have an 8:15 tomorrow morning. Please speak take it in the hallway."

Jungkook quietly jumps out of bed not solely because of courtesy to his roommate but also because it's from you.

"Jungkook… can you um…"

"__?" He eases the door shut behind him and paces up and down the hallway. "Are you there?"

"Can you meet me at the bus stop near the campus library/ I'm sorry to be asking you it's just that…Jun-ho's–"

"What is it? Are you okay? What about Jun-ho?"

" I'm taking the bus back from work and he's on the same one he keeps staring at me and I'm scared of following me back to my dorm. Please Kookie-Jungkook I mean. I don't have any right to ask you, I know. He won't try anything with the bus driver here but once I get off I'll be alone. I have some pepper spray in my bag–"

"Yes, yes I'll be right there. How far are you out?" This isn't about pursuing you, impressing you, or anything like that anymore; it's about your safety. Jungkook leaps into his room, grabs his wallet, and shoves the sneakers on his feet. "__? Did you hear me?"

" I'm five minutes from the stop. Oh, he's, he's still staring at me."

"Don't look at him __. I'm walking down right now. Stay on the phone with me. I'll be waiting for you when you get there okay?"

"Thank you Kook. I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize. If Jun-ho's tracking you down like a wolf, it'll be his funeral." The icy tone in Jungkook's typically warm, milky tone sends a shiver up your spine.

The bus you're on pulls up in exactly five minutes, as you estimated. Jungkook frantically searches for you through the window glass, growling when he sees Jun-ho standing up a few rows behind you. He makes sure to be as close to the bus's exit doors as possible so he can grab your hand as soon as you step out.

"Hey!" He greets you loudly. "How was your shift?"

"Great! We were running around like crazy but thankfully, I didn't have to work through the night." You cling his hand tighter, slinging your other arm around his.

"That's a blessing." Jungkook and you walk faster, putting more space between you and Jun-ho. "You must be tired."

"Oh yeah, I can't wait to slee–ah!" You trip over a ledge on the sidewalk. Jungkook grips you before you completely fall flat on your behind.

"New feet?" He can't help but joke and you slap his arm. Jungkook helps straighten you back up, your hands remain interlocked. When it comes to a split in the road, you and Jungkook filter to the right side towards the female dorms. You hope to god Jun-ho takes the left.

"He's such a fucker." Jungkook curses, peering over his shoulder just enough to see Jun-ho faltering at the intersection. He burns holes at both of you so much that it makes Jungkook feel like kneeing him in the gut but he doesn't want to provoke the bastard–putting you in unpredictable danger. "I'll get you to your dorm. Which one is yours?"

"Up ahead." You gesture at the brick building with the number 318.

"We can let go of our hands now." You're the first to speak after arriving outside your dorm.

Jun-ho thankfully did not follow you any more than back at the split in the path between male and female dorms. The fact that he still attends school here makes your skin crawl. You don't exactly like calling people a mistake but Jun-ho is by far an exception. You messed around with the guy one time while you both were a bit tipsy and he keeps hounding you. If you need to, you will make him stay away from you permanently.

"Promise me you'll get a restraining order on him if this happens again or gets worse." Jungkook ignores your suggestion to release your hands. "That idiot has no right to be around you."

"I will. Thank you for coming out. I was nervous to call you being what happened earlier. I truly, from the bottom of my heart, am sorry. And I know having to go back to work left things hanging so if there's anything else you wanted to talk about or tell me, please feel free."

"Anything for you–" slips out of his mouth before he can stop it. He slaps a hand over his mouth instantly, you chuckle softly.

"It's okay Jungkook," you reassure. "I can tell you wear your heart on your sleeve. You're naturally very accommodating and flattering."

"And you're beautiful. Damnit, I did it again. I'm sorry __, but whenever I look at you I feel butterflies and I say a lot of fluffy stuff. I'm not trying to flirt or impress you by using what can be in the right context, shallow methods. But yeah, I was thinking about what happened at the cafe earlier tonight and I think get it–I've been too quick to the draw. I'm honestly not sure why I'm so attracted to you other than the fact that you're breathtakingly gorgeous in literally every way, both physical and non-physical. It makes me want to know you more. And the fact that assholes like Jun-ho won't leave you alone makes me want to be your personal bodyguard or something. I don't lift as much as him but fuck, I can keep him in his place. I'm starting to sound crazy, aren't I? It's like you said, we're strangers after all…right?"

Jungkook waits for you to respond. The cool autumn air is crisp against your cheeks, not cold enough to see your own breath, but enough to have you secretly grateful for the warmth that comes from his hand. That's right, you've been clinging onto his hand for dear life for the past fifteen or more minutes. You should probably let go now if weren't for the fact that he's also clinging onto yours just as hard.

"You really want to know me Kookie?" You brush a few strands of his hair that have blown in front of his eyes. He's incredibly handsome now…how did you not see it before? Sure he's cute with his bunny-like smile, mole on his button nose, and his adorable voice that makes you oh so soft and comfortable inside. But he's also handsome with his piercing oak tree-colored eyes, perfectly sharp jaw, and eager yet tenacious energy that always seems to show up for you.

Jungkook takes your other hand in his, swinging them between you both. "Of course," his earnest voice chippers. "It’s next to impossible for me not to want to know you. I'm sure I'll eventually move on if that's what you really want, but if there's another alternative that can avoid that I'd like to take it. You seem to be in deep thought about something…" he switches up his response when he notices you don't look as alert as you usually do. “__.”

"I'm here," you say, the tiniest bit dazed. "I was just thinking about something."

"Yeah I know, but about what?"

You swallow before replying. “…You.”

Jungkook smiles sheepishly. You're unsure if he's pleased or nervous. "Is it–is it something good or should we leave it here?"

"Are you free tomorrow?" You bite the inside of your cheek, begging yourself not to take it back. "It's Sunday so I get if you have some last-minute studying to do. Just thought maybe we could do something….together." Jungkook goes to reply, cheeks more than raised but you continue speaking before he sounds a word. "It's not a date per se. I'm being crazy annoying but I'd like to be friends first with something extra."

"You said no to friends before though. This isn't an offer to be friends with benefits is it?"

"That was when I wasn't sure what I wanted with you if anything. I didn't want to take advantage of you or anything. I want to start as friends so we can see if we can somehow be more. I'm interested in you Jungkook so no, not friends with benefits but rather, friends with the potential to be more."

"Okay," Jungkook squeezes your hands. "I can do that. What do you want to do? What time do you want to meet? What do you want me to wear?"

"First of all, if we're going to do this I'm going to need you to treat me like your bro. Wear what you want, we can meet afternoon and we'll figure it what to do along the way." You think your suggestion is fair yet it's crystal clear that it's not ideal for Jungkook, given the pout on his face.

"I don't want you to be my bro though," he whines.

"We start as bros or we're not hanging out." You're firm because you want this to work but you know yourself, and you need to take this slow.

"No wait, okay. Bro it is. You'll be the prettiest bro of mine."

"Jungkook," you snort, undignified. "That sounds weird."

He shrugs, "I'm weird when I'm with my friends. Especially when they're as pretty as you, it makes me all dumb because I can't seem to think straight anymore."

"Alright Romeo," you say, face flushing. "Save the rest for tomorrow."

<< ch. II ༓ ch. IV >> | series masterlist

A/N: This was originally going to be three chapters but it will be extended 😶 Lmk what you think and if you wanna to be tagged fill out tag form or ask 💞

Masterlist

Taglist:

@hoseokteardrop @skzthinker @igchochi @jksjx

no reposting, copying, or translating my work– © kookslastbutton

#jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook imagine #jungkook fanfic #bts fanfic #bts angst #bts fluff #bts imagine #bts scenarios #fic:lovesremedyonfire #kookslastbutton

[teecupangel]

IDEA: Desmond gets turned into a creature of your choosing, just has to be able to “write”. And yknow how we always go with the ‘his writing becomes illegible’ thing? What if all of his writing is unreadable except the word “Desmond”. Drop him in with Ezio and watch the chaos unfold.

I was thinking what creature we should go for and my brain just went ‘screw it, go with Slime Desmond so we don’t have to think if the creature can actually use a quill or if he’s using his hands to write’.

Then my next thought was “Wouldn’t it be funny if Desmond could write ‘Desmond’ but he can only write it in a specific language that Ezio doesn’t know? Like… the Isu script?” but you know what would be funnier?

Desmond had always been an intelligent creature.

He used his strange body structure to make creative shapes that Ezio would be able to decipher and understand. He was the best scout and planning partner to have.

His uncle believes Desmond was a descendant of the slime ‘companion’ the legendary Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad supposed had.

If he was, Ezio could see why everyone believed Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad was the best mentor the Brotherhood ever had.

Desmond made everything so easy that Ezio knew he needed to not depend on him too much. He needed to be able to stay on his own feet. To show that he was a formidable Assassin in his own rights.

That was why he asked Desmond to stay in Monteriggioni while he went to the Vatican to finally confront Rodrigo Borgia.

He focused on the safety of his family, knowing it was Desmond’s soft spot.

And it worked.

Desmond stayed and Ezio went to Rome alone.

And then he heard Minerva’s message.

‘Desmond’.

She specifically said Desmond’s name.

Desmond wasn’t a usual name and…

It was the only ‘word’ Desmond could write.

So when he returned to Monteriggioni, he briskly walked towards Desmond and crouched in front of him. Desmond’s entire body seemed to be vibrating slightly and Ezio pointed at him as he asked in an almost panicky tone, “Desmond?”

Desmond created too slimey appendages and pointed at himself, waving the tentacle-like appendages furiously.

“Desmond!” Ezio repeated and Desmond began to vibrate more noticeably.

“Desmond!” Ezio said cheerfully and Desmond started bouncing in front of him in pure joy.

“Why is my brother repeating Desmond’s name?” Claudia whispered from behind them, looking both confused and tired already.

“I’m not entirely sure…” Mario answered as he rubbed his chin.

“Ah, of course!” Ezio grabbed Desmond midbounce and held him in his arms before turning to face his family and allies. He recounted Minerva’s message and what he had seen, making his allies wear different expressions on their faces.

When he got to the part where Minerva specifically said Desmond’s name, Mario’s eyes widened as he asked, “Nipote, are you saying…”

“Yes.” Ezio raised Desmond to his eye-level as he proclaimed…

“Desmond is a messenger like Minerva! He keeps writing the name Desmond because he is looking for him!”

Desmond’s happy vibrations immediately stopped and then…

WHACK.

A tentacle appendage suddenly appeared from Desmond’s body and smacked Ezio behind the head, making the Assassin yelp in surprise and let go of Desmond.

Desmond quickly hopped away from them and went straight for the secret door that would lead to the Sanctuary below.

“What? What did I do? Was it supposed to be a secret, Desmond?!” Ezio followed the slime, already knowing it would be sulking behind the statue of Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad.

… leaving his family and allies back in the office who stared at the secret entrance.

“…………. well… who’s going to tell him that Desmond is angry because the obvious answer was he’s the Desmond in the message?”

“I will respectfully decline. For one, I don’t want to argue with Ezio about how that idea is foolish as this Desmond is meant to be alive centuries from now to save the world.”

“O dio mio, does that mean our Desmond used to be Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad’s Desmond?! Is Desmond immortal???”

“I’m going to bed. Wake me up once my brother stops being stupid.”

#desmond is turned into a creature subgenre #ezio is a bit stupid for the punchline to work #sorry #in ezio’s defense #he didn’t think desmond the slime is an immortal #or that he’s a time traveler #assassin's creed #desmond miles #ezio auditore #fic idea: assassin's creed #teecup writes/has a plot #ask and answer

[jinnie-ret]

oddinary house pt 7

siren!seungmin x reader

genre: horror

content warnings: death

word count: 2.4k

summary: y/n is entranced by the voice of a siren before she is swept away in the odds of possible revival

ODDINARY HOUSE MASTERLIST

MAIN MASTERLIST

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

"Paint a pretty picture for me

Swim in the depths

You'll forever be home

If you paint a pretty picture for me

We'll give you everything

If only you'd see..."

"Who are you?!" Y/N shook her head, blinking out of her trance as she realised she was no longer with Felix and instead heading towards a lake, black swirling water creating dark paths around a scaly figure half submerged. His voice was beautiful, Y/N knew that, anyone knew that, and it wasn't long until she was under his spell again, her feet involuntarily moving forward until she stood right at the edge of the short pier that rested two metres above the body of water with an evil aura around it.

"You'll be ok,

You'll be alright.

I'll lay with you here til it turns into night

If you paint a pretty picture for me.

Don't make it so easy we'll give you a fright."

"I just knew I'd be seeing you soon," his sweet voice echoed around the garden, birds suddenly darting from the trees and off to somewhere else, as if his voice was startling. But even though Y/N deep down felt a sense of unease, she couldn't let her anxieties get the better of her here when he was somehow keeping her calm with his smooth butter like words, that gently fell off the tip of his tongue so perfectly.

"Your voice it's..." Y/N couldn't find the words, slowly sitting on her knees at the edge of the pier, where there would have been a slight creaking under her weight had she still been alive.

"Perfect?" his charming smile shone even brighter than the sheen of water decorating his scaled skin, more clear than ever when he swam closer.

"No it's..." Y/N slowly felt her trance wearing off, yet she was still lost for words, maybe not because of his gorgeous melodies but maybe more because of his stunning appearance.

"No? How about beautiful?" he smirked again, floating right beneath her now.

"Well yes but..." Y/N rubbed her head frustratedly, just wanting to get rid of the mind fog that had taken over. Was this part of limbo or was it because of the man... mermaid in front of her?

"But?! It's enchanting isn't it ghostie, you just had to find me," he chuckled, a richness in his tone that shook her more out of her trance as he teased her.

"I-I don't get how I got here," Y/N shook her head, shifting slightly to sit with her legs dangling over the edge.

"Well I assume because you're dead," he shrugged nonchalantly, as if he had better things to deal with, though he couldn't hide his intrigue with their new resident. He never could.

"What?" Y/N turned to him, now annoyed.

"Don't tell me you didn't realise you died, Changbin hyung really should have picked a smarter one..." Seungmin sighed, disappointed if he was dealing with someone that could not meet his level of intelligence.

"I mean how I'm stood in front of you right now!! I know how I died you dickhead!" Y/N kicked the water, splashing the merman in the face in pure exasperation.

"Well that's not a very nice thing to say now, is it?" he rubbed the water out of his face and hair, which seemed counterproductive considering he was in the lake anyways.

"Ugh you're insufferable," Y/N facepalmed, she still didn't know why she was here, and all that was happening was he was getting under her skin.

"Actually I'm Seungmin, and you're more untameable, I should say, my dear..." Seungmin smirked, turning to swim away.

"Untameable? Wait, wait... Seungmin! What do you mean?"

"Normally they are still under my trance by now, but you, darling, seemed to have broken out of it, unique indeed," Seungmin swam around on his back, conspiring how it possibly could have happened that she managed to do so.

The sudden scuffling of small feet hitting against the ground and then wooden pier caused Seungmin and Y/N to turn around and look at the chupacabra which morphed back into Jisung.

"Woah, ok, that was, wow, creepy," Jisung nodded, hands resting on his hips as he referred to the two of them turning around in sync, like it was some horror movie. He had seen worse things though.

"Jisung, you reek, I told you not to come to my lake," Seungmin wrinkled his nose, all he could smell from Jisung was blood and dead animals from the sacrifices he'd make.

"Jisung, why are you here?" Y/N ignored Seungmin's comment and looked at the man who was out of breath, holding up a finger momentarily before he spoke once again.

"The ritual. It's, it's ready," Jisung caught his breath, gesturing Y/N to come with him quickly.

But as she stood, she realised just how weak she felt. Even with her soul trapped in limbo, it was making it more difficult for the entity she had become to move around. Her glow was brighter, but she had lost her spark.

"Any time now, Y/N!" Jisung tried to hurry her to move yet she still wasn't able to.

"I-I, can't, my arms, legs... so heavy," Y/N winced, and Jisung panicked as he saw it in her face that she was genuinely trying.

"This is not good this is not good... Seungmin I swear to god if you-!" Jisung growled through gritted teeth, one moment away from wanting to jump into the lake himself and throttle the siren.

"You won't sacrifice me, you need me too much," Seungmin hauled himself out of the lake, waiting a moment for his delicately scaled tail to shift into a pair of legs instead. He hopped up onto the pier and rushed next to Y/N's side.

"Yeah, what are you gonna do that's so helpful?" Jisung rolled his eyes and tapped his foot rapidly, time was ticking.

Seungmin simply turned away, ignoring the rambles of the chupacabra before his voice made Y/N's head turn towards him straight away.

"Don't you want to come with me?

You're hurting dear,

I feel your fear..."

Seungmin began to sing and Y/N's eyes heartbreakingly welled up, understanding the situation she was in would either revive her, or cause her to be a ghost forever.

"... It's time to move or pay your fee,

You're hurting dear,

I feel your fear."

Han's eyes widened as Seungmin's words prompted Y/N to start moving upwards, the glow around still getting brighter, but they had time, now that the siren was helping. Y/N's body didn't even seem to allow her to walk, she was floating, the only awareness about her was through her eyes.

"Let's make a change,

Need to make a change today.

Don't be afraid,

Your fate will rearrange today."

And with that Han raced back to the circle for the ritual, each one of the other residents of Oddinary House gathering around it. Seungmin brought Y/N's glowing figure closer and closer, and the closer they got, the more and more the candles flickered wildly, sensing the presence of the soul it would be connecting back to its shell.

Felix flew in, his ethereal wings extending outwards one last time as he took his position next to Changbin, handing him a small satchel to hold onto, which he was given a respectful nod in response. Although, he still couldn't hide his small frown remembering that no one had told him that Y/N was here. And now they'd all be desperately watching her revival.

Hyunjin descended from the very place Y/N had fallen from, however this time, instead of falling to his death and landing in the circle like Y/N had when he pushed her, he gracefully landed, moving round to stand next to Minho whose nose was twitching, picking up on the scents of everyone as they were brought together.

Chan had managed to leave the reception area of the house, extending wires out of his arms to bring him to a halt at the edge of the candle lit circle. He brought them out of the ground just as a bat flew past him and landed onto the top of a small metal stand, which had been placed with purpose, also around the circle.

"Right, ok, umm, everyone's here, that's good, that's good..." Jisung wiped his sweaty hands on his trousers.

"Y/N is not here yet. Seungmin is not here yet," Chan scanned the circle and took note of what he could see.

"Shut up, Chan, he's bringing her now," Jisung glared at him, his anxiety and frustrations getting the best of him as he just wanted the ritual to go well.

"Sungie..." Felix shook his head, always the mediator.

"Just be quiet, everyone, we wanted Y/N here for a reason, yes? Give him some freedom to think in peace," Minho sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Nothing that guy doesss issss in peace, he literally killss animalsss every day," Hyunjin hissed, arms folded.

"And you killed Y/N, so this is on you, Jinnie," Jisung argued back, stomping his foot down.

"Yah! You nearly stomped on her body's leg!" Changbin warned.

"You'll be ok,

You'll be alright,

We'll lay here with you even if it takes all night."

Seungmin finished singing, bringing Y/N into the circle, and allowing her to fall to her knees once more. He took his place between Hyunjin and Chan, rubbing his throat slightly. It had taken a lot out of him, to bring her limbotic soul back from one end of the garden to the other.

"Ok, Y/N, I'm going to need you to try really hard, ok? Try really hard to move back into your body. I just need you to think really hard, and try and get back into position of how your body is laying, ok?" Jisung kneeled down next to Y/N, hoping she'd be able to do it. Yet his voice was so muffled through her brain fog.

Y/N felt exhausted. Is this how everyone felt before they moved on from limbo? Her limbs felt like they weighed tonnes, yet it couldn't deter her from her resilient mind.

"We can't move you now, Y/N, you need to do this yourself, just think, imagine yourself back in your body, remember the sensations in your feet, your legs..." Jisung's voice broke through now, the mind fog disappearing, just as quickly as everything turned to darkness.

Y/N didn't see anything for a while, until she did. The brightness that had previously been blurring the edges of her vision before wasn't there, but did that mean she died?

If it was anything to go by with the way her hand was tightly clutched with Jisung's, then no. She was very much alive, and breathing.

"Ji..?" Y/N mumbled, sitting up in the king sized bed she had been resting in. The bedroom was decorated in reds and golds, dark oak furniture bringing an elegant element to intertwine it all.

"Y/N... Oh good! You're awake! You're alive!" Jisung suddenly realised she was awake, but instead of offering her comfort, he cheered to himself. "Yes! I knew I could do it! In Hyunjin's face! That'll tell him!" he hollered, before swiftly morphing into his animalistic form and galloping down the hallways.

Y/N rubbed her eyes, taking a moment to appreciate the way she could wiggle her toes against the soft plush sheets on the bed. Loving the way she could feel her hair, see the goosebumps appear on her arms. She was back.

"Hello, Y/N," Chan was stood in the doorway, feet rooted to the floor.

"Hi, CB97," Y/N lazily waved at him, unable to hide her giddy mood at simply living again.

"Y/N. I thought we were more than that," Chan's head tilted to the left.

"Sorry, umm, Chan, haha... wait how are you up here?!" Y/N laughed before realising she had never seen him anywhere apart from the reception.

"Mr Yang has asked to see you now," Chan informed her.

"Why now? I don't get it..." Y/N felt her heart thudding, another oddly comforting feeling considering she could recognise her nerves getting worse.

"Please exit the bedroom and I will guide you on your way," Chan suddenly turned around before he had zoomed down the corridor in a flash, the door shutting behind him. Yet it almost tentatively opened again, as if reminding Y/N that she needed to have the all important meeting.

Safe to say, she struggled to find her feet, and not because of anything weird like a mishap with the ritual, no. But it was like a baby learning how to walk for the first time.

Using the walls of the hallway to support her wobbly legs, Y/N followed through as each door opened in her path, showing her where to go.

"You passssss the tesssst," Hyunjin hissed, a small smile on his face.

"What the hell man!" Y/N jumped, stumbling before grabbing onto a banister. "You trying to kill me again?!"

"You have ssssurvived, I wish you a great ssstay," he smoothly moved past her, leaving her momentarily stunned before she continued in the same path he took.

It wasn't long until she was guided towards a meeting room, a long dining room in that same dark oak from before, stretched across the room. The room was huge, making Y/N feel even smaller as she approached the table. A dusty chandelier hung right above the middle, and bookcases full of old books, or ones that had not been touched for years, were lined up against the walls.

Felix gave a small wave to Y/N when he saw her, and she couldn't help but wave back, before she was pulled away by a pair of furry hands belonging to Minho, who yearned for her scent to be next to him. She was sat between him and Changbin, the sandman patting her hand lightly and easing her nerves, the tiniest amount of golden dust lingering in the grooves of her knuckles.

On one side she sat between them, Han on the other side of Changbin. Opposite her, from left to right, sat Chan, Hyunjin, Seungmin and Felix. That left the empty chair at the head of the table. It seemed more regal than others, a rich air around it before a bat suddenly flew in.

"Ah! Stupid bat!" Y/N jolted in her seat, making Minho giggle and Felix send her a warning look, slowly shaking his head.

She didn't understand why, until the bat materialised right before her eyes, into an attractive young man.

"What, I thought you wanted to meet me? That's no way to treat head of house, now is it?" he chuckled, fangs peering out of his mouth.

tagged: @skz-streamer @kiraisastay @hannahhbahng @kpopmenace143 @sakufilms @hanjiquokkaaa @arloo00 @dunno-wut-to-do @splat00z @cheesemonky @his-angell @amararosesblog

#skz #skz x reader #stray kids #stray kids x reader #skz fluff #skz angst #straykids imagines #stray kids fluff #stray kids imagines #skz fic #oddinary house

[cherryredstars]

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x gn!reader (established relationship)

Warnings: short references to fighting/neglectful homelife, but mostly fluff

Summary: Taking a day off from work, Miguel sits with you as you both spend the day building legos. 

A/N: I had the undying urge to write this after continuously seeing posts about Miguel loving legos and Lego Peter. This is my first time posting anything on Tumblr so I apologize for any mistakes :))

Word Count: 1K (edited, but may still have some errors)

Miguel always loved legos as a kid. Legos were the perfect escape for him. It preoccupied his mind, forcing him to forget about his neglectful parents and disappointing home life. It was the one thing that could be just his, even when he let Gabriel help him when his parents were having screaming matches in the kitchen. Miguel would beam with pride after finishing a set, everything being perfectly in place and showing what time and dedication could result in. Even as an adult with multiple worlds weighing on his shoulders, Miguel still indulged in legos occasionally. He had an impressive collection on display in his personal office at home, but barely any free time to add to it. He suspected that it was one of the major reasons why he loved Lego Peter so much, though he would never admit it to another breathing soul. The smaller Spider-Man reminded him of simpler times. Times before the multiverse consumed his every hour and normalcy was still within reach for him. 

Today, however, the multiverse (with reluctance from Miguel) could wait. Or so you say. With your skills of persuasion, (you had called Jess and told her she would have to be in charge for the day as Miguel had “fallen ill”), you had successfully convinced Miguel to take the day off and spend it with you. He had complained at first, but later found himself relaxing as he sat besides you on the living room floor. You had decided that today would be dedicated to quality time between the both of you and that meant you would only do activities you could do together. That’s how Miguel found himself watching you become progressively more frustrated as you tried to build the lego set you had gotten him for his birthday. It never occurred to you that in Miguel’s advanced, futuristic dimension, that legos would also be more advanced and way more complex than what you were used to in your universe. 

"I think this is the right piece. This is the right one, right?" you question, your head looking from the instructional pamphlet to the small structure in front of you. 

Miguel watches in amusement as you count the pegs on the picture and compare it to the piece you snapped into place. You sigh as you realize that it, in fact, is not the right piece. Of course, Miguel already knew that the second you lifted up the lego piece. But who was he to ruin your concentration? He wouldn’t want to be “nagging” and “a backseat driver", as you so kindly described his previous attempts to help. You lift up the structure to eye-level, trying to gently remove the piece without breaking any of the work already made. You try to slide your nail in between the two pieces, but find that it stubbornly won't disconnect. Of course, even in the future some pieces still get stuck together with no way to remove them.

Your brows furrow at your failed attempts before giving Miguel an exasperated look, “You know, this is supposed to be a fun group activity. Not a ‘let me do nothing but sit around and watch as the love of my life struggles and does all the work’ activity.”

You hand the configuration of legos out to him and he simply raises a brow, "Who said I wasn’t having fun? On the contrary, I find your frustration entertaining." He reaches out and takes the structure from you, “It isn’t my fault you can’t follow simple instructions.”

You roll your eyes at him and hold up the instructions to his face, “How, in any universe, are these instructions classified as ‘simple’.” Even with your Spider intelligence, the symbols and pictures are complicated to follow. Trying to decipher them is an hour-long activity all in itself. 

Miguel shakes his head, “The box says for ages 12 and up. You’re in your 20s, yet you can’t understand pictures made for middle schoolers.” Carefully, he extends his claws and slides a single one between the pieces you tried to separate. He takes care to not scratch or damage the legos as his long talon easily disconnects the pieces with a pop. He smirks lazily, smug with the knowledge that he completed the task in seconds while you were struggling for the past two minutes.

He places the structure back into your hands and places the incorrect piece back into the pile on the table. He picks out the correct piece and slides it over to you. You can’t help the smile that spreads on your face as you roll your eyes again, “Yeah, well they made ‘Are You Smarter than a 5th Grader?’ for a reason.”

Miguel sits back against the couch and smiles ever so slightly to himself as you continue building his lego set. Every now and then, you turn back to Miguel with a pout when you need his help separating legos or building a particular section. Of course, this leads to more snide and teasing remarks from him, but he can’t ever deny you anything and he can’t deny that your reliance on him does wonderful things for his ego. Eventually, you end up sliding over the whole set of instructions to him, prompting him to explain the next steps to you. The process goes by much quicker with Miguel telling you what pieces to use and where they go. The structure is done in less than 3 hours, halving the time it would take you if you had done it alone.

Later, Miguel sits in his office. He works on catching up on everything he had missed on his day off. It’s late into the night and the only source of light comes from the yellow screens that he studies. By now, you are already in a deep sleep down the hall in your shared bedroom. As he works, Miguel can’t keep his eyes from straying. Even in the dark, his enhanced eyes can clearly see the finished lego set placed front and center on his shelf. It is surrounded by framed photos of the both of you together and other miscellaneous trinkets you had given him throughout the course of your relationship. It is a shelf dedicated solely to his relationship with you. He scans the shelf once more with a small smile and Miguel thinks to himself that, just maybe, legos aren't the only thing that make him feel normal again. 

I am so sorry if any of the writing is shitty! It has been a good year since I wrote anything. I promise (hopefully) these will get better as I write more! But, I hope you enjoyed it :)).

#miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara #atsv miguel #miguel x reader #across the spiderverse #spider man 2099 #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel ohara x you #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 x you #atsv #atsv fanfiction #miguel ohara fanfiction #miguel ohara fluff