#there are little children who see me as the Big-Person-But-Not-An-Adult?? now!

[blueflyingturtleontheway]

Don't you think it's a bit sad how socially if you're bad at something or something doesn't go your way you can talk about it freely and everyone is sympathetic and when something finally goes right everyone cheers

But if things usually go well for you you're supposed to shut up about it lest it sounds like you're bragging or trying to make others feel miserable and when something finally goes wrong everyone calls that "karma", is happy about your misfortune or tells you to suck it up because "everything else goes great for you why do you care"

I don't know I suppose I'm just a privileged whiny child that is upset that something isn't as good as she wanted it to be

#my post #babbling blue #personal #do not reblog #stars its just #i got some news that i should be happy and proud of but here i am thinking #'thats all?' #its like with little children when people remind themselves #'well its the biggest problem they had to face YET of course theyre treating it like ots important even when its not' #except the older you get the less it still applies #because im just an adult who has never had anything bad happen to them in their life #and now every little inconvenience is a disaster to me #so yeah the best answer i can count on is 'its not such a big problem dont worry <3' #if thats not privilege than i dont know what is #stars there are people my age who have to fight every day for survival physically and mentally #and here i am crying because im actually useless and not as smart as i thought i was boo fucking hoo #thats a reason why others would cry about me not i myself #stars why am i narcissistic enough to see everyone as worse than me but not enough to not notice my flaws

[makoodles]

ミ the mightiest

part 1 | part 2

🍓 pairing: neteyam x human fem reader 🍓tags: nsfw, aged up neteyam (obviously), jealousy, alien cultural misunderstandings, oral sex (f receiving) vaginal sex, size kink, voyeurism, brief na'vi oc x reader, mentions of reader sleeping with other na'vi men

masterlist

reblogs are always enormously appreciated!

notes: okay i had to split this into two parts because it surpassed the tumblr word limit 🙃 here’s part 1, and I’ll post part 2 in a day or two!

adult neteyam art created by the incredibly talented @cinetrix, whose work motivated me to write for adult neteyam in the first place!!

The tsahìk’s hut is cool and dark, offering a much needed reprieve from the hot balmy air of the day outside. It’s been a quiet day for you, though you can’t complain about that; it’s a pleasant change of pace from the usual hectic rush of people that usually pass through.

It’s one of the rare days that Mo’at has left you to tend to the duties of the healing hut alone; it had taken years to reach this level of trust with her, and you find yourself almost deliriously proud to be able to help out. Na’vi medicinal practices are very different to human ones, but your training in first-aid has given you enough knowledge and experience to hold your own when it comes to helping out with the smaller day-to-day ailments that tend to pass through the healing hut.

Besides, you’re always happy to give Mo’at a break. She had claimed that she needed time to commune with Eywa, though secretly you suspect that she just likes to take some time to herself in her old age. But that’s fine – you’ve always found helping out in the healing hut soothing, and your heart swells at the fact that Mo’at trusts you enough to leave you in charge, even if it’s only for a few hours.

It also helps when your patient is a big, hunky alien warrior with more muscles than brains, who sits in front of you as you smear a herbal paste over the scratches he had gotten in training earlier that day.

Txeyto is not an easy patient; he flinches when you prod his wounds, whines when you clean them, and complains as you smear the paste on his scrapes. It’s a little irritating, but the sight of his big broad shoulders and chiselled abdomen is enough to soothe the worst of your aggravation.

“Are you nearly finished?” Txeyto complains, flinching away from your fingers once more.

You bite your tongue and force a smile. Patience has never been your strong suit, and Txeyto is certainly testing the short reserves you have left. But he’s very handsome, and very skilled at archery, and you feel that his physical attractiveness outweighs the minor personality flaws.

“Yes, just another few moments.” You murmur, keeping your voice low and soothing as though speaking to a child.

Txeyto settles a little when you use the baby voice on him, and you struggle to keep your face blank at the ridiculousness of it all. Men are such children, even the big strong Na’vi warriors that should be above such behaviour. He’s lucky he’s handsome.

“How did you get these injuries, hm?” You ask, using a light touch to dab some of Mo’at’s specially formulated healing paste onto his scrapes. You keep your fingers as gentle as possible, but Txetyo still winces dramatically.

He perks up at your question, his tails swaying low over the floor where you’re both sat cross-legged. “I have been training very hard. I am one of the best archers in the village now.”

“No doubt.” You murmur distractedly as you work.

“But it is important for a tsamsiyu to be competent in many forms of combat, so I must practice my hand-to-hand combat also,” Txetyo continues, apparently forgetting to wince now that he’s talking. “Neteyam has been helping me train.”

Ah. You can’t help the face you make at that, and you’re thankful that Txeyto’s back is facing you so that he can’t see your expression. You also can’t help the way you cast a quick glance towards the entrance to the hut, as though worried that simply speaking the name aloud will summon Toruk Makto’s eldest son.

“Is that right?” You say, keeping your tone carefully neutral. “So, he’s the one that got you all scraped up like this?”

Txetyo’s shoulders flex under your hands, and you realise without looking at his face that you’ve stung his pride.

“I scraped him up also.” He grumbles, shifting to try and peer over his shoulder. “They are wounds to be proud of, as I got them in combat.”

You don’t think that a couple of minor scratches from wrestling around in the mud with one of the village’s biggest dickheads count as combat wounds, but you don’t argue. You just hum non-committedly, paying more attention to his bruises than is entirely necessary.

“You should be careful,” You say instead, running your fingers carefully over one of the bruises discolouring the pretty blue skin of his defined bicep. “It’s a shame to see these lovely muscles all bruised up.”

There’s a long moment’s pause. It seems as though the cogs in Txetyo’s head are working slowly, because he seems to be struggling to understand your flirty tone of voice. But when it finally seems to click, he turns his head to peer at you with wide, curious eyes.

“Ah,” He says, his shoulders squaring as he seems to preen. “You like them?”

God, he really is a little dumb. But that’s okay. You don’t necessarily need a man with brains.

“Mhmm,” You hum, allowing your hand to rest on the bulge of his bicep. “I like strong men.”

That’s true, if a little bit of an oversimplification. You’ve lived as a human on Pandora your whole life, but it was only in recent years since you’ve reached adulthood that you’ve started really paying attention to the people around you. And good lord, you had some impressive specimens to look at.

You find yourself drawn to their athletic and toned bodies, their radiant blue skin, their cat-like grace and agility. Maybe it’s because you had grown up on Pandora with no humans your age other than Spider, but you find yourself especially drawn to your size. The sheer size of their hands alone are enough to fluster you, especially when your brain is flooded with images of those big hands in other contexts.

And luckily for you, there’s no shortage of Na’vi that are interested in experimenting with humans, too.

Txetyo visibly perks up, his ears twitching forward as he finally seems to notice the way your much smaller hands are lingering on his body as you patch him up.

“I am very strong.” He says, tail thumping against the ground.

You fight the urge to sigh. He’ll never make a great conversationalist, but that’s alright. He’s big and strong and handsome, and you just want to relieve some tension.

“I know.” You murmur, your lips quirking a little as you shuffle around so that you’re kneeling in front of him, your knees pressed close to his thighs. “But I could still kiss your scratches better, if you’d like.”

Kissing wounds better is definitely a human colloquialism that Txetyo doesn’t understand, judging by the furrow of his brow, but he doesn’t seem to care. He reaches out and wraps a big hand around your waist, and you feel a pulse of arousal low in your belly in response.

“You like my muscles so much that treating my wounds has aroused you?” He asks, the smugness in his voice impossible to miss.

His pompousness is a little irritating, but you can ignore that because his hands are big and warm and it’s exciting to feel his palm start to push its way under your cotton tank top. The few Na’vi men you’ve been with before had been absolutely fascinated with the soft squishiness of your human breasts, so your breath hitches in anticipation as his hand reaches up to grope at your tits over your bra.

Okay, you can probably admit that you’re a little pent up. It’s probably a terrible idea to allow Txetyo to feel you up like this in the middle of the healing hut, but you’re horny.

If you’re telling the truth, you’ve been hoping for a chance like this all week – but there’s one thing, one irritation, that has been preventing you by interrupting every damn chance you’ve gotten alone with any man.

In fact, you’ve been interrupted so often and so many times that you’re almost expecting it, even as Txetyo’s big hands squeeze at your tits. He’s a little rough with it, but he’s so much bigger than you that you suppose that’s unavoidable – besides, his strength only adds to the thrill.

Then, just like clockwork, as though there’s some kind of sensor that goes off whenever you’re about to get some, there’s a rustling sound by the entrance of the hut before the little woven drape covering the doorway is pulled back.

And then, who else would be standing there, but Neteyam. One of the few people on the whole planet that can actually ruin your whole day just by showing his stupid face.

His eyes find you, but his expression doesn’t change as he glances over your flustered expression and the hand that Txetyo still has shoved up your top. He tilts his head, and it feels as though he’s examining every damn detail all at once; the ointment smeared all over Txetyo’s bruises from training, the way you’ve shuffled so close to Txetyo that you’re practically straddling his thigh, your unsteady breathing behind your mask.

“Ah. Am I interrupting?” He asks with a hint of wry humour to his voice, as though he hasn’t interrupted every attempt at getting laid you’ve made this month.

It has to be on purpose. That, or he has some sort of nearly supernatural sense for when you’re horny, because he always seems to show up every goddamned time. Somehow it’s gotten worse in the last few weeks, too. You’ve barely been able to get a moment alone with whoever you’ve been chatting up before Neteyam has appeared, snapping at them to get back to training or duties or whatever lousy excuse he’s been able to come up with in the moment.

“What do you want?” You snap, impatient and too strung tight to waste your energy on pretending at politeness.

A very delayed reaction finally hits Txetyo, and he scrambles to remove his hand from the inside of your top. His hand alone is so large that the outline of it is painfully obvious even through your shirt, and you close your eyes with a sigh as he clumsily pushes himself away from you in a rather ungainly attempt at pretending nothing was going on.

“Neteyam!” He blurts, his ears flattening against his skull. He’s clearly mortified at being caught in such a position by Toruk Makto’s son, and he overcompensates by attempting to scoot away as though he hadn’t even been touching you.

You try not to roll your eyes – you’re used to this, after all. You’ve been with several Na’vi men, but they all seem to have the same sort of embarrassment about actually being open with the fact that they’ve hooked up with you. You can’t be all that annoyed about it, you suppose. You understand where it’s coming from. You’ve been around the Omaticaya your whole life, and while the taboo of having Sky People around has faded somewhat, that doesn’t mean that anyone is actually willing to admit that they’ve been with you.

You’re used to it. It’s fine. You’re just a little mortified that Neteyam is currently witnessing the scramble for Txetyo to get away from you.

He’s watching the other man with his head still tilted to the side, his big golden eyes dark in the cool shade of the hut. A muscle in his jaw is flexing, like he’s trying not to laugh.

“I will- I will see you later?” Txetyo whispers to you as he stands. He probably intended for his voice to be low enough that it stayed between just you and him, but the hut is quiet enough that there’s no doubt Neteyam can hear him just fine.

“Mhm. Yeah.” You murmur back, watching Txetyo’s big broad back as he steps away from you, all hasty and flustered.

Txetyo gets as far as Neteyam, who’s still standing with his arms crossed in the doorway. Neteyam doesn’t so much as shift, his eyes dragging with lazy satisfaction over the myriad of scrapes and bruises that he had left on Txetyo during their sparring earlier.

Txetyo shifts on his feet, visibly nervous in the face of his future chief’s judgement. “Ah… Will we train again tomorrow, Neteyam?”

Neteyam hums non-committedly, before finally stepping away from the doorway. He brushes past Txetyo, and you wonder if he’s always so dismissive of his fellow warriors or if he’s just being an even bigger dickhead today for some reason.

“We will see.” Neteyam says shortly, though he’s not even looking Txetyo’s way.

Taking that as the dismissal it so clearly is, Txetyo nods awkwardly before disappearing out of the hut, leaving you and Neteyam alone.

For a long moment, you do your best to avoid looking up. You’re beyond irritated right now, made so much worse by the fact that your panties are kind of wet and you’re so fucking desperate for attention right now. The little wooden bowls knock together clumsily as you try to arrange them without looking up, but it becomes difficult when Neteyam lowers himself down to sit opposite you.

“The tsahìk’s hut is a bold place for such activities.” He says, and you don’t have to look up to know that there’s a stupid smug look on his face. “What would my grandmother think?”

As he sits down, he places a woven bag by your knee. You don’t need to look at it to know what it is; he’s always bringing stuff to the healing hut for his grandmother. Herbs or medicinal plants, fibres for weaving bandages, even animal bones that he had whittled down for needles for suturing.

Even you can grudgingly admit it’s thoughtful; but he only ever seems to bring it when you’re around. It’s like he just wants to rub it in your face that he excels at everything he does – it’s extremely annoying.

You finally look up, your face already scrunched in a scowl. “What do you want?”

He raises his hairless brows at you, an expression he no doubt learned from his father. “I would like my cuts from training treated. What else would I be here for?”

And now you know that he’s just messing with you, because while Txetyo was covered in bruises and abrasions from his tough training session earlier, Neteyam doesn’t have a single visible scratch.

“What exactly am I supposed to treat?” You ask, voice tight.

Neteyam shifts, proffering you his shoulder, and you see a single scrape along his otherwise flawless striped blue skin. You purse your lips, staring at it in mild disbelief.

“You can’t be serious.” You say, deadpan.

But it’s clear that Neteyam is serious, because he’s already stretching out on the comfy woven rugs of his grandmother’s hut as if he belongs there. It’s obvious that he has no intention of moving – he must have come here just to torture you.

You blow out a frustrated breath, the inside of your respirator mask fogging up briefly before rapidly clearing. Neteyam is infuriating. He gets under your skin in a way that no one else does, as though he knows every goddamn little button to press just to aggravate you.

Maybe it’s just a by-product of having been raised as next in line to lead the Omaticaya, or of being Toruk Makto’s oldest son, but you’ve always found Neteyam closed off and distant.

Truthfully, you can’t say for certain if he’s always been this way. When you were young teenagers, you hadn’t had much contact with him; he was always busy with his own training, and then the whole Sully family had left for Awa’atlu. When they had returned, several years later, Neteyam had been more reserved, and yet somehow even cockier and more confident than ever.

“I don’t understand you. There’s no need for you to get this scrape seen to, and you know it. You just like wasting my time.”

He just watches you as you complain, his eyes hooded and dark in a way that honestly leaves you a little heated. He doesn’t deny it, which only irritates you further. You knew he was just trying to annoy you!

“It’s your job to treat wounds when you’re here, isn’t it?” He asks, and you can see the way his tail is lazily undulating behind him, skimming across the woven carpet. He’s enjoying arguing with you.

You huff out a put-upon sigh, before grabbing two of the jars. The ointment is naturally antiseptic but it goes on with quite a sting; you try not to feel satisfied about that as you coat your fingers in it before dabbing it onto the scrape on Neteyam’s shoulder. You’re not as gentle as you’d usually be either, your patience is too thin for you to be considerate with him right now.

But this is not Txetyo. This is Neteyam, and he doesn’t so much as flinch as you rub the paste over his still sluggishly bleeding scratch, even though you know it must sting. You try not to feel irked by his stoicism.

As you work, Neteyam’s head rolls back. In a move that’s almost imperceptible, his nostrils flare and he scents the air. You assume it’s the fairly astringent scent of the herbal paste you’ve just pulled out that’s bothering him, and you raise an eyebrow at him.

“Problem?”

His lips quirk, though he manages to keep his expression neutral. “No. I am simply enjoying being under your tender care.”

You narrow your eyes at him. He’s mocking you now.

The fact that he had walked in on Txetyo’s hand up your top as he groped at your tits feels like a heavy unspoken weight in between you as you dab at his minor wound. You keep waiting for him to bring it up, to laugh at you for it, but he remains stubbornly quiet as you work, his golden eyes watching you in quiet contemplation.

In fact, he’s never brought up any of the times he’s interrupted you right before you got with someone. He’s caught you in varying levels of undress, with Na’vi men over you, under you, holding you, touching you, kissing you, but somehow just before anything good actually happened. Every time the men had scrambled away from you as though you were something diseased, mortified at being caught with a tawtute by Neteyam, a man that (for some reason you can’t comprehend) they seem to have an awful lot of respect for.

In the beginning, you were inclined to come up with excuses for him; he was Jake Sully’s oldest son, and was inevitably going to keep track of his peers and where they disappeared off to when they had duties that they should be attending to. But now, you think he’s doing it to spite you specifically. It might be a bit of a self-centred thing to believe, but you’re almost certain of it.

You shift on your knees beside him, raising yourself up a little to ensure that you’ve covered all parts of his scrape. You don’t want him returning tomorrow to complain that you didn’t do a good job.

You have to bite back another sigh as you do so, your thighs rubbing together in a way that sends a sharp jolt up your spine. You’re horny and needy and so, so resentful of the fact that you’re now treating the same man that’s the direct cause of your state right now.

Neteyam’s attitude wasn’t the only thing that changed in his time away, however. You have to keep your eyes fixed carefully on his bruising shoulder, because if you didn’t you know that your gaze would wander, and that’s a dangerous game to be playing in the presence of someone as perceptive as Neteyam.

But it’s difficult not to look. Time and ocean air has been kind to him; he’s grown as tall as his father, and whatever sort of training or work he had been doing with the Metkayina has resulted in broader shoulders and a more sturdy build than is typical of the Omaticaya. It’s galling to admit, and makes you feel as though you’ve eaten something sour and unpleasant, but Neteyam is hot as hell.

He might be aggravating and smug and too cocky, but no one in their right mind could deny that he’s attractive. Not even you. Especially you, if you’re being honest with yourself, considering your penchant for enormous blue alien men that could snap you in two with a pinkie if they felt so inclined.

God, you really have to think about something else. You’re so wet that your panties are starting to get uncomfortable, so you focus determinedly on the resentment that’s still simmering over the fact that Neteyam had interrupted what was promising to be a very productive encounter with Txetyo.

Neteyam shuffles a little where he’s sitting in front of you, and your eyes track the way his muscles bunch and shift under his vibrant blue skin. Damn, but seeing Na’vi musculature up close never gets old, even if it’s Neteyam.

You’re almost finished with dabbing paste on the tiny scrape (and you hate to admit that it had taken you longer than it should have due to your distraction), when Neteyam half-turns his head towards you.

“My back is sore, also.” He murmurs, though his eyes remain downcast.

You pause, staring at him. “Okay. And?”

There’s a moment where the two of you just look expectantly at each other. When nothing comes of that, Neteyam speaks again.

“You are playing healer today, are you not?” He asks, and his left ear twitches oddly. “Or is your attention all reserved for Txetyo, hm?”

Your cheeks heat in humiliation and your jaw clenches. You knew he wouldn’t be able to help himself from making some sort of stupid comment.

“Lay down.” You snap, prickly and embarrassed.

“Yes ma’am.” Neteyam purrs, probably all satisfied that he’s gotten under your skin. He reclines, all of those lithe muscles flexing and bunching as he rolls over onto his stomach.

You grab another pot of ointment, and then take a moment to steady yourself.

You know that he’s winding you up on purpose, just like always, but you can never figure out why. He doesn’t treat you like any of the other men in the village do – they might enjoy fucking you, but they’re rarely caught dead in public with you, worried about what it might mean for their own reputations.

Neteyam is bolder, more confident; though the burden of responsibility that he carries is unmistakable, he never seems to get caught up with the petty whispering and musings of the village people. It’s just unfortunate that he seems so set on bothering you.

Your mouth goes dry as your eyes drop mindlessly over the expanse of his long, pretty back. His skin is stretched tight over lithe muscle, little luminescent white freckles glinting like little stars. He looks so smooth, though the flawlessness of his body is marred by thick pale scars that litter his skin, courtesy of the near legendary battle with the RDA that you hear happened off the coast of Awa’atlu.

You glance down, flustered. Fuck. It would be so much easier to hate him if he wasn’t physically perfect.

“Problem?” Neteyam’s voice is a little lower in register than it was before, perhaps because he’s lying on his stomach with his head pillowed under his crossed arms.

You twitch. Shit. You had gotten distracted, and had lost yourself staring at him.

“No. Shut up.” You blurt reflexively, dipping your fingers into the oily ointment used for easing sore muscles.

Neteyam huffs quietly, a sound that could be a grunt or a laugh, but doesn’t bother responding. It makes you feel as though you’ve lost a game you didn’t know you were playing.

Antsy and on edge, you lean forward and survey his strong back properly. When he's laying out in front of you like this you can see the way his back is knotted with tension and his shoulders are hiked up around his ears. It doesn't look too bad, but it can't be comfortable either.

You take one more moment to admire the musculature of his shoulders, before gathering yourself and dipping your fingers into the ointment. It's balmy against your fingers and smells a little bit like blueberries, and begins to tingle when your hand is entirely coated.

"Where does it hurt most?" You ask, your voice quiet.

In the silence, you can hear Neteyam’s throat click when he swallows.

"My neck and shoulders." When he speaks, his voice is a little deeper than expected.

The very first touch to Neteyam’s back pulls a quiet sigh out of him; it sounds like relief.

Considering his size, it takes surprisingly little to have him melting under your hands. Your fingers spread under his scapula, finding a knot in the muscle and pressing in hard. It takes a bit of finagling, but after some firm pressure you feel the muscle begin to soften beneath your touch.

Gaining confidence, you return your kneading fingers to his neck. He really is terribly tense, and shivering spasms flit up and down the muscles of his back in regular intervals as you drag the warm palms of your hands over him. As your fingers work into his tense muscles, he lets out quiet little grunts that are muffled by the cradle of his arms.

“Why were you so hard on Txetyo during training?” You ask as your fingers dig into the tense tissue of his back. Your voice is unintentionally loud in the quiet of the hut. “He looked as though he had been attacked by a thanator when he was here earlier.”

Neteyam just grunts. “Txetyo is an overconfident skxawng. He is not nearly as skilled as he thinks he is.”

You click your tongue, dissatisfied with that answer. “I could say the same about you.”

Just like all your attempts to insult him, your words seem to bounce right off him. Stupid thick-skinned bastard. His pretty mouth tilts up in a smile.

“I have the skills to back it up, paskalin.”

Your lips purse at the name, your cheeks hot. God, he’s such an asshole.

When you exert pressure as you run your fingers down his spine, Neteyam grunts softly into his arms. The sound is startling in the quiet, interrupting the steady rhythm of your quiet breathing.

"Does that hurt?" You ask. Your voice comes out a little shakier than you’d like.

"No." Neteyam’s voice comes out in a low, gravelly rumble. The sound of it almost startles you into snatching your hands away, but you manage to refrain yourself. "Keep going."

You just swallow thickly, and try to keep yourself on task. “He just wants to be better. He was excited to train with you–”

“Lower.” Neteyam groans, shifting under your hands.

You clench your teeth. Really, you should probably just walk away from him. There’s no real need for you to be doing any of this. He’s not even injured, and who knows whether he’s telling the truth about his back being tense.

But you’re stupid, and you’ve never been good at walking away, from either fighting or fucking. This strange encounter feels as though it lies somewhere in the middle of those two things. Your palms drag down to his lower back, and he flinches briefly before melting under your touch.

His body is so big that it’s difficult to get a good angle to knead properly at his tense muscles, and before you can think too hard about it you swing your leg over his hips. You settle back, perching your weight cautiously at the base of his spine.

It's a braver move than you would usually make, but you try not to second-guess yourself — like this, you have so much more leverage to rub at the rigid sinews of his back. You drag your knuckles down the length of his spine and he groans into the cradle of his arms.

You try to ignore the excited flutter in your belly. It’s just Neteyam. You’re not actually getting turned on from this; the only reason you’re so affected is because you had been horny with Txetyo. You shift where you’re sitting on his back, but you have to force yourself still almost immediately, because the friction nearly makes your lungs seize.

“Comfortable?” Neteyam murmurs, and you can hear amusement in his voice.

“Shut up.” You say reflexively, before scowling. “I can’t believe you interrupted me and Txetyo just for this. You have, like, one bruise–”

“It’s a very sore bruise.” He murmurs lazily, sounding unbothered. “Do you think squeezing your tits might help? That seemed to help Txetyo feel better.”

You pause, jaw dropping in indignation. “I– shut up!”

Neteyam makes a noise that sounds like a snicker, and you dig your fingers down the planes of his back vengefully. His waist narrows into an elegant taper, and when you reach the part of his back where his ass begins to swell, you exert firm pressure against the base of his tail.

If you had done it to a human, you know it would have hurt. But instead the tightness of the muscle unfurls under your fingers, and Neteyam gives a long, low groan. The sound is delightfully gravelly, and you take a breath as you feel molten heat ooze down into your belly and settle between your legs. It’s not a reaction you had been expecting.

You sit back onto his lower back, avoiding his tail. From here, you have a truly captivating view of how slick his back looks from the ointment, and how his skin glows in the dim light of the hut. His body really is perfect, and your eyes track over the taut shiny scars that litter his skin.

“Mmm. May I get up? Or do you want to sit on me a little while longer?” Neteyam’s low voice breaks you out of your stupor, and you’re horrified to find that you’ve just been sitting there with your wet panties pressed against his back beneath your thin shorts.

You scramble off him quickly, flustered and clumsy. It had been a bold move to straddle him in the first place, and now you feel very stupid about it.

“You should apologise to Txetyo.” You blurt, just to say something into the silence.

“Why are we still talking about Txetyo?” Neteyam has always been a relatively tolerant and even-keeled man, but you can hear irritation beginning to bubble up in his voice.

“Because–” You start to say, but then Neteyam rolls over so that he’s laying on his back.

Now that he's lying on his back, stretched out all long and lithe, your eyes rove over his face and then down his throat, his chest, his stomach, his hips. Your eyes catch on the protrusion between his legs and stick there, your mouth dropping open in surprise when you see that his loincloth is tented.

“Because- he… you were too–” You try valiantly to finish your sentence, but your thoughts have scattered to the wind.

He’s hard. Why the fuck is he hard? Is that just from you rubbing his back? Oh my god, what are you supposed to say? It feels like his hard-on is staring at you.

Neteyam pushes himself up into a sitting position, his hands planted on the woven rug behind him as he pushes himself up so that he’s sitting looming over you. Once he’s upright, Neteyam flexes his shoulders and groans slightly as he goes. It doesn't sound like a pained groan, thankfully.

The movement brings him closer to you than you had been expecting, and you end up freezing. Like this, you can see the way his expression has smoothed into one of relief. His shoulders are looser too, no longer held bunched up around his neck.

Neteyam doesn't seem to notice your close proximity, nor the way you have tensed at the lack of space between them. You’re not touching, but you’re so close that you swear you can physically feel the air between you.

“If Txetyo is so upset about being beaten by me in training, then he should focus on getting better instead of slinking away with his tail between his legs and trying to screw you in a corner of my grandmother’s hut.”

You gape at him like an absolute idiot, floored by the acerbity in his tone. You’ve always thought Neteyam was a bit of a dickhead, but that was mostly because of his nearly insufferable need to always be the best. Always the best warrior, the best son, the best brother, the best future Olo’eyktan. The best role model to his peers.

“So that’s what this is about.” You say, your voice coming out distinctly accusatory. “You don’t like that your friends are fucking a human, is that it?”

Neteyam doesn’t even bother answering. He just rolls his now loosened shoulders and watches you carefully. He doesn't tell you to back off, or wrinkle his nose at you, or act as though he's repulsed by you. He just stares at you across the miniscule space between you, and that only angers you further.

“Is that why you keep interrupting whenever I’m with any of the other tsamsiyu?” You demand, fists clenching. “What, you don’t like that your friends find a tawtute attractive? Is that why you keep cockblocking me?”

Neteyam huffs a quiet snort, as though he thinks you’re being stupid.

“I hear what some of the Na’vi in the village say, about how it’s shameful to be with a tawtute.” You hiss. “I just didn’t think you’d be one of them.”

And if you’re honest with yourself, it sort of hurts. Neteyam has always gotten on your nerves with his confusing mix of overconfidence and jagged insecurities, and he had really infuriated you when he had started to interrupt all of those illicit little meetups you had planned with some of the boys in the village, but you hadn’t actually thought that he had any disdain for you like some of the other Na’vi.

And then you do something so stupid that it shocks even you.

Your eyes drop back down to the tent in his tewng, eyeing it thoughtfully, before reaching out and running your fingers over the hardened outline of his cock through the fabric with purpose.

Neteyam hisses, and his hips actually lift off the floor in an attempt to follow your touch.

“God, you’re a hypocrite, aren’t you?” You breathe, fighting to keep your voice casual. “How can you judge your friends for fucking around with me when you’re this hard after just a backrub?”

“They’re not my friends.” Neteyam grunts, his jaw clenching as his head tilts back. His hips rock into your hand.

Your touch goes firmer, and then your hand slips under his loincloth. You’ve had plenty of sexual encounters with Na’vi men, but this is different.

This is Neteyam. This encounter feels like proving a point. A very sexually charged point.

His cock is silky smooth and hot to the touch, and you feel a little drunk as your fingers close around it. And damn, it feels big. All Na’vi cocks are big compared to your hands, but this… feels different. You were aroused anyway, you’ve been feeling pent up all damn week, but now that your hand is on his dick your nerves are fizzing up.

It’s a surprise when Neteyam’s big hand settles on your waist to tug you closer, and you feel your stomach swoop when he pulls you forward. You don’t release his cock even as he pulls you to settle over one of his thighs, your legs slotted in between his, and you can feel him harden even further beneath you.

You wonder absently if it's really you that's causing his very obvious arousal or if it's just a natural consequence of the massage; either way, when his hips flex up towards you, they press right in between your legs.

You shiver almost violently, the sensation of him pressing hot and hard against your core frying your nerves and wiping your thoughts clean. The part of your brain that had been screaming about what a bad idea this whole thing is has become muffled now, and your own hips jerk against his.

“You’re such an asshole,” You say, though your voice comes out reedy and breathless. “You of all people don’t have a right to talk shit about those guys just cause they’re into humans, especially when your cock is this hard, and especially considering where your dad came from–”

He lets out a soft, quiet noise as you move against him, and uses his grip on the back of your top to pull you tighter against him yet again. “Don’t talk about my father when you have my cock in your hand.”

It takes what feels like a monumental effort to wrench your hand away from him, and he lets out a wordless grunt of dissatisfaction as his hips twitch in an effort to follow your hand. It’s delightfully pathetic, and you feel your ego swell at the sheer sense of power that washes over you; it’s a rare feeling, especially when you’re faced with a big blue alien almost twice your size.

“You should apologise to Txetyo.” You sound like an out of breath idiot. “It’s not like you can judge him for being with a tawtute when you’re that hard from me just touching you.”

Neteyam just stares at you, his jaw clenching and his honey eyes dark as he takes several breaths through his nose. You’ve never seen him like this before; you’ve never seen any of the men you’ve been with like this before. It looks as though he’s holding onto a thin veneer of control, and you wonder if he’s angry with you, if you’ve perhaps pushed him too far.

“That was never the issue.” He says and fuck, his voice has gone so gravelly. “And don’t pretend that you’re not wet beneath those clothes of yours. I can smell it.”

Your thighs squeeze together as you swallow hard, struggling to maintain your aura of indifference and no doubt failing.

“That’s because of Txetyo.” You say, and it tastes like a lie on your tongue. “You interrupted us.”

Neteyam laughs quietly and humourlessly. His expression suggests that he doesn’t find anything about this conversation funny, and his hand is still splayed across your back. You’re so damn conscious of how big his palm is as it spreads across your spine. Why the hell hasn’t he let go of you yet?

“Ah, I see.” Neteyam murmurs. “You would have fucked him in my grandmother’s hut?”

Your mouth is so damn dry, and you swallow compulsively. “It’s not any of your business who I fuck.”

Neteyam’s smile is grim. “Txetyo would fuck his own shadow if he were nimble enough to catch it. You have terrible taste in men.”

You rear back. You’re surprised by how much that hurts. Living as a human on Pandora is lonely, and it’s not like you have people lining up outside the human outpost looking to spend time with you. If you want any sort of companionship or intimacy, you have to accept any attention that you can get. And sure, most of that attention comes from men that only want to get their dicks wet, or the experience of being with a tawtute, but it’s better than nothing at all.

“Well, we can’t all be the Olo’eyktan’s son.” You say, your voice stiff and cold. “We don’t all have countless suitors throwing themselves at our feet. Some of us have to accept attention from whoever’s interested.”

Neteyam’s expression shifts, an odd look appearing in his eyes, and your stomach swoops. You don’t think you could bear to see pity in his eyes, so you pull away from him, shaking his hands off.

“Your scratch is fine.” You say, your voice thin and a little thready. “You’re all treated.

“Hey–”

As you stumble to your feet, Neteyam reaches out as if to stop you. You dodge his hands, unable to look him in the eye.

Panic is starting to set in now; what had you been thinking, touching him like that just after he had chided you for flirting with Txetyo in the tsahìk’s hut? God, you feel like such an idiot. He must think you’re so pathetic.

Like a coward, you turn on your heel and flee out of the hut. You need air, you need to be out of the cool darkness of the hut, you need to be away from the overwhelming weight of Neteyam’s presence. Through the blood rushing in your ears you can distantly hear Neteyam call to you, but you’re too desperate to escape from the whole humiliating interaction to stop and listen.

You stagger out of the hut, squinting at the evening light; it seems blinding after spending all day in the dim musty air of Mo’at’s healing hut. You pat at your rumpled shirt and creased denim shorts, flustered and frenzied as you try to straighten yourself out.

“Tawtute?”

You jerk, gasping, and whirl to find that Txetyo is sitting on a log a few feet away from the hut, apparently waiting for you to finish up with Neteyam. You feel like you’re burning up from a mixture of mortification and confused arousal and you’re certain that Neteyam is about to follow you out.

“I– I have to go!” You blurt, already stepping back towards the forest.

Txetyo frowns, obviously bewildered, but he doesn’t stand. “Don’t you want to–”

You don’t wait for him to finish. You’re already fleeing, disappearing into the trees as you run the whole way home.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ

It might be a little cowardly, but you avoid the village for days after that.

You stick to the outpost, watching Norm and Max and the other scientists work. You try not to die of boredom, and you try not to overthink and overthink and overthink.

But you have too much time on your hands as you slink around the outpost, and you can’t stop feeling guilty about abandoning your attempts to help Mo’at out in her healing hut.

You also can’t stop thinking about the shift of Neteyam’s muscles in the low dim light, or the silky hot feel of his cock in your hand, or the soft breathy grunts he had let out as his hips rocked. It feels like the experience has actually rewired your brain, as though you’ll never recover from it.

Growing up on Pandora as a human has been lonely. The only other human your age is Spider, who had become the closest thing you have to a brother – and you love him even when you feel like throttling him, but sometimes you just yearn for more.

You want companionship, you want understanding, you want romance, you want sexual intimacy. You don’t think it’s too much to ask for, and if you have to turn to big nine-feet-tall Na’vi warriors who just want to say they’ve had the experience of sleeping with a tawtute, then that’s… fine. Even if it’s only temporary.

Part of you is honestly relieved when Spider finally manages to force you out of the outpost and back to the village. It’s a relief to get back into the forest, to the village, to the life you’re used to. The outpost has nothing on the vibrancy of the village life, and you feel as though you can breathe for the first time in days upon stepping back into the village, even if it’s through your respirator mask.

There’s been a big hunt today, and the village is buzzing with excitement. You pass by several willowy Na’vi covered in celebratory paint, and follow the sound of the heavy thumping of drums.

The evening after a hunt is always a joyful affair, and you gradually start to relax throughout the night. You feast on collected fruit, hum along to some of the music, and sit comfortably with Spider all evening. At some point you’re joined by Lo’ak, which you don’t mind either; Lo’ak has always been the kind of outcast that fits comfortably between the edges of you and Spider. Those edges have smoothed out as he got older, but he’s always been a cool guy to hang out with.

When he’s not joining Spider in ganging up on you, that is.

“So– so wait, wait, let me get this straight,” Lo’ak is waving his hands as though trying to settle down a group of rowdy children, even though it’s just the three of you present. “Neteyam walked in on you fucking again, but this time it was in grandmother’s hut–”

You’re sat around the large campfire in the middle of the village, tucked away from the main celebrations. Part of you is flourishing being in this environment again, but another part is withering at this damn conversation. You glance around nervously, hoping that no casual observers can hear you guys talking.

“Txetyo only had his hand up my top!” You hiss hastily. “We weren’t actually– and we would have gone somewhere else when it came down to it!”

“Txetyo is a dickhead.” Spider complains, leaning heavily on your side. He’s so frequently dwarfed by the Na’vi that it’s easy to forget that he’s over six-feet-tall and corded with muscle, and his bulk is heavy.

Irritatingly, Lo’ak leans into you the same way on the other side, though he’s more careful about leaning his full weight, and you end up crushed in between the two idiots.

“He isn’t.” You protest, pushing back against their weight. “He’s–”

“Nah, he is.” Lo’ak interrupts before you can defend him. “Total skxawng. You know he keeps telling people he’s the best archer in the clan? And yet he didn’t manage to catch anything in today’s hunt–”

You try not to wince at that. It’s impossible to miss that while Txetyo may not have been successful in the hunt today, someone else is being lauded for their skill and success.

Neteyam has been given a place of honour by the fire next to his parents, and the careful swirls of paint all over his body can’t hide the proud glow on his face. Under the smooth veneer of Neteyam’s smiles and cheer was the jagged edge of his inferiority complex, his need to always be better and to be liked. Funnily enough, his insecurity has always been your favourite part of him. It felt real in a way his cockiness didn’t.

You can’t stop yourself from glancing over. Night has already fallen and there are many couples dancing, the flickering firelight sending wild shadows across the gathering. But even in the unsteady light, you catch the intense golden stare of Neteyam watching you from across the circle.

You hastily turn your face away, pressing your lips together tight as you try to pretend like you hadn’t been looking in the first place.

“–He’s better than Art’alak, at least.” Spider says, continuing on the conversation that you had checked out of for a few moments. “That guy was awful. I mean, what did you even see in him?”

You roll your eyes, sinking further back into the stupidly heavy weight of Spider and Lo’ak in a silly attempt to hide yourself from view. It almost definitely doesn’t work, and you can still feel the weight of Neteyam’s stare on you, even as you fixedly ignore him.

“Pretty sure we don’t want the answer to that one, man.” Lo’ak says, snickering.

His eyes glance around, before flashing across the gathering as though he can also feel Neteyam’s attention. You frown as Lo’ak hastily removes his arm from around your shoulders, even leaning away from you a little.

“I’m allowed to want company.” You say loftily, though you’re certain that your voice is a little shaky.

It feels like your skin is heating up under Neteyam’s eyes, and you feel yourself getting shifty. Why won’t he just look away?

Lo’ak obviously notices his brother’s attention, because he leans a little closer so he can speak quietly in your ear.

“My brother can be unbearable,” Lo’ak murmurs, “But he’s not a bad guy.”

“Gross.” You wrinkle your nose playfully at Lo’ak’s rare display of sincerity about his brother and he hisses at you, swiping at your head.

It’s all in jest, which is obvious given how gentle his hands are with you, and you laugh and lean away.

“I just– I don’t understand him.” You sigh once your laughter has tapered off. “I mean, I get that he doesn’t approve of the whole interspecies thing, but it’s like he goes out of his way to catch me in embarrassing situations. If he finds it gross, why seek it out?”

Lo’ak purses his lips and avoids your eyes. “Uh…”

“Anytime he shows up, the guys I’m with go running.” You continue, your brows knitting into a frown. “I mean, it’s getting ridiculous. Why can’t he just mind his own business?”

Lo’ak’s eyes dart over your head, and you just know that he and Spider are sharing a look together.

“He doesn’t– I wouldn’t say he disapproves of interspecies relationships–” Lo’ak says, but he fumbles a little in his attempt to get his words out and darts another panicked glance across the fire towards where Neteyam is sitting with their father.

You just scoff, crossing your arms defensively across your chest. You feel a little vulnerable talking about this; usually, you’re content to suffer through the embarrassment of having your sex partners pretending they don’t know you in public alone, but since Neteyam had started walking in on you, now he knows that they’re doing it too.

“He scolds them like they’re children whenever he walks in on us, talking about how they’re neglecting their duties and all that,” You mutter, scowling. “But it’s obviously because he’s annoyed that his friends are messing around with a Sky Person.”

Spider shifts at your side, making an odd sound beneath his breath. You turn to look at him, but he’s staring rather fixedly at a tree branch overhead. Lo’ak clears his throat, similarly looking off to the side to avoid your eyes.

You frown. It feels as though they’re hiding something from you, and the thought is unsettling.

“What?” You demand, sitting forward and staring intently at them.

“Nothing,” Lo’ak protests, but his voice is a little too high-pitched to be believable. “Uh… It’s just… well, I really don’t think that Neteyam has a problem with interspecies relationships. Our dad came from the Sky, too!”

You think that Lo’ak probably intended for that to be reassuring, but instead you find your stomach sinking miserably.

“Oh.” You say, pursing your lips. “So it’s me that he has a problem with.”

“No!” Lo’ak protests, but then he pauses. His mouth opens and closes as he struggles to form a response under the weight of your narrowed eyes.

When no explanation comes, you end up just averting your gaze and looking towards the fire. It’s stupid, but you’re not sure what you were even expecting. Neteyam has always been perfect in his personal life, his duties, his relationships within the clan, his looks. It’s hardly a surprise that he’s developed a distaste for you – you know what Sky People represent to the Na’vi, after all.

Across the gathering, two Na’vi girls are shooting looks at Spider. You almost think they’re looking at him in disgust, but when Spider catches their eye and smiles back they both look away giggling.

You click your tongue and roll your eyes. You wonder when exactly it was that the Na’vi your age stopped seeing you as human nuisances that haunt the village, and started instead seeing you as people with possible sexual appeal.

“That is just unfair.” You intone dully. “You get Na’vi girls flirting with you from across the campfire, and I get Na’vi boys fucking me in corners and then pretending they don’t know me. And that’s only if I don’t get rudely interrupted by Lo’ak’s asshole brother.”

“Men.” Lo’ak says in a disparaging tone that sounds as though it’s meant to be sympathetic, but it falls short as he’s biting his tongue to keep from laughing. “Maybe you just have bad taste.”

Spider laughs too, though he’s still looking in the Na’vi girls’ direction. There’s a pink flush in his cheeks, and his smile looks distinctly pleased.

“Yeah,” You grumble, sinking down where you’re sitting. “I’m hearing that a lot.”

The conversation moves on then, Lo’ak nudging at Spider over your head and grinning as he recounts the highlights from the hunt earlier that day, but you’re distracted. You hardly even hear a word they say, too busy staring broodingly into the fire.

Luckily, neither Lo’ak nor Spider mind your silence. They’re perfectly content to fill the quiet themselves, chatting and babbling and joking over your head.

You’re drifting, lost in your own thoughts until you hear Lo’ak and Spider go quiet. You glance over to them, only to realise why they’ve stopped talking – Neteyam is walking your way.

You stiffen, eyes narrowing behind your respirator mask as he comes to a stop before you all. He greets his brother and Spider briefly, distractedly, before his big amber eyes settle on you.

All you can do is wait, tensed. You have no idea what he’s going to do or say, but if he says something about that day in the healing hut you might actually scream.

But Neteyam doesn’t immediately say anything. He crouches in front of you, his gaze as measured and even as ever, and proffers a wrapped utumauti leaf to you. For a moment, you just stare at it as though it’s something venomous.

“A portion of yerik meat,” Neteyam clarifies, not even blinking as he watches your face. “From the hunt earlier.”

Oh. Now you see. He’s just showing off, like he always does. He’s always doing things like this, just to show off his skills, his prowess, how strong he is. It’s irritating; everyone already knows how great he is, and he’s already practically revered throughout the village. You don’t know why he keeps trying to flaunt his greatness in front of you, other than the fact that he must love to annoy you.

Spider nudges you in the side, and you reach out to take the wrapped meat from Neteyam’s outstretched hand.

“Thank you.” You say, a little tersely.

Neteyam just nods, his tail coiling. He watches your face for another moment, and all the unspoken tension between you from the other day seems to swell to unbearable heights. His ears twitch, and then he glances over his shoulder to where his parents are sitting by the fire. They’re watching, which makes you feel itchy and embarrassed.

“I should return.” He says simply, before standing and nodding at you, then Spider and Lo’ak, before straightening up and walking back to his place by Jake, his tail swaying low.

There’s a long moment of silence, where you can feel Lo’ak and Spider staring at you.

“Don’t.” You say sharply when you see Lo’ak’s mouth open, and he closes it with a click.

This feels embarrassing, as though Neteyam is mocking you somehow. It’s not the first time he’s given you food, always making sure to let you know he caught it himself. It’s like he has a damn pathological need to show off his skills, to try and prove himself, to prove that he’s better than anyone else. It’s aggravating, even more so now that Lo’ak has made it clear that it’s you that Neteyam has a problem with.

Eventually, Spider and Lo’ak return to their conversation and you pull back, sitting silently between them. You pull your mask off for a brief moment to nibble at the meat. You’re a little irritated to admit that it’s delicious, and you sit back to lean into Spider’s side as you chew at it sullenly.

You’ve just begun to wonder if this night is a total bust altogether when you catch movement out of the corner of your eye. You raise your head, surprised to see the sight of Txetyo stepping towards you.

At your side, Spider and Lo’ak share a look before sitting up straighter.

“Tawtute,” Txetyo greets, nodding his head at you. He casts a single cautious look towards Lo’ak, before focusing on you properly.

He is keeping his voice purposely low so that no one else can hear, but you can’t bring yourself to care. This is the most public setting that any man has ever actually approached you in, and you can feel your expression brightening already.

“Hello.” You murmur, smiling sweetly at him. The last time you had seen him had been right after you had fled the tsahik’s hut, right after you had touched Neteyam– and no, you are not thinking about that right now.

“I would like to speak with you.” Txetyo murmurs, his voice low as he darts one more quick look between Lo’ak and Spider before settling on you again.

You brighten. You’re under no illusions about what Txetyo wants to ‘speak’ about, and you can safely assume that there will be little to no talking involved at all.

Yes. A distraction. This is exactly what you need.

“Sure.” You say, your lips curving up in a coy smile as you unfold yourself from where you’ve been sitting between Spider and Lo’ak.

“Uh–” Lo’ak starts to say, but you’re already beginning to step away with Txetyo, who’s beginning to lead you away from the gathering.

Maybe it’s a little impulsive, but you’re feeling reckless tonight. You can still feel Neteyam’s eyes boring into your back as you follow Txetyo towards the treeline, but you determinedly refuse to look. The celebration should be enough of a distraction to keep him busy and away from you for a while so you can finally get laid.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ

You resist the urge to check the time on your battered old wristwatch as Txetyo slides down your body and repositions himself between your legs.

It feels like such a long time since you’ve hooked up successfully with anyone, with no interruptions, which is probably why you’ve been so affected by all-things-Neteyam recently. You were hoping that this encounter with Txetyo would restore you back to normal, to get rid of all the thoughts of Neteyam’s intense golden stare and pretty face and silken hot cock that are absolutely haunting you.

Yet, so far, the night’s been less than stellar. Txetyo had led you away from the celebrations, and you had to try hard to pretend like you don’t see him looking around compulsively to make sure that no one else has seen him leave with you. You had followed him into the trees, and had brightened up when he took your hand as soon as you were out of sight of the gathering.

Before you knew it, you were on your back on the forest floor with your panties around your ankles and your dress rucked up around your waist as Txetyo loomed over you on his hands and knees.

Txetyo is handsome, and he’s big and strong and he’s not opposed to hooking up with a Sky Person, but he’s not much for conversation and it seems like he’s only really got one thing on his mind. Apparently, your list of criteria might be a little lacking, because Txetyo’s also proving to be woefully bad at sex.

He spreads your legs and buries his face there. You blink at the canopy of glowing foliage overhead, grimacing. Honestly, you’d think that anything tongue-adjacent would feel good against a clit, but that’s just not true. Txetyo seems to have an affinity for moving his tongue rapidly and aimlessly against you, resulting in nothing better than the occasional teasing — definitely by accident.

You shift a little, try to angle your hips so that Txetyo’s mouth is over your clit, but he doesn’t seem to pick up on what you’re attempting to do at all. He just moves his mouth away, jabbing his tongue sort of aimlessly at your left labia.

“Could you– a bit higher–” You say, trying to shift again.

Txetyo’s mouth is rather sloppy against your pussy, but you’re not actually sure what he’s doing down there. He seems to be missing every possible nerve ending that might feel good, which is actually a little bit impressive.

You sigh, and just resign yourself to getting bad head. You let your head thunk back against the mossy forest floor, your legs hanging off of Txetyo’s big shoulders as he hunches between your thighs.

It’s almost imperceptible, but the quiet ‘crack’ of a twig breaking underfoot has your head snapping around in a panic.

Though night has fallen, it’s never truly dark on Pandora. The moss beneath you glows faintly, illuminating the outline of your body as you lay there with Txetyo getting busy between your legs. The trees and foliage around you are similarly phosphorescent, your surroundings all lit up in luminous vibrance.

Pandora’s bioluminescence is beautiful; it also means that you can see Neteyam’s figure all dimly lit up as he leans against the trunk of a tree about fifteen feet away.

Neteyam’s head is cocked to the side as he very obviously takes in the scene before him, his head turning to scan up and down your body. His little luminous freckles are lit up and glowing, and it’s impossible to miss the fact that his golden eyes are fixed on you, so intense that it’s almost breathtaking.

You almost scream. You mean to, but instead you moan, completely by accident, and Txetyo groans between your legs.

You don’t know what to do. You’re gaping at Neteyam, who seems all too content to just watch you, meanwhile Txetyo is totally oblivious. He’s still doing nothing right, but something deep inside you pulses.

Moments later, much to your horror, Neteyam takes a small, tentative step forward. He stands only a few feet away, behind Txetyo and in plain view of you.

Go away! You mouth, staring at him in disbelief.

Neteyam scratches his head, feigning confusion, and then he takes another step forward.

He doesn’t say anything. Why isn’t he saying anything? It’s not the first time he’s walked in on you in a situation like this, but usually by this point he’s started making snarky comments, which in turn makes the men you’re with scramble away from you like you’re diseased.

Your dress is pushed up clumsily around your stomach, exposing your pussy. There’s a man between your legs. You’re in the process of getting fucked and Neteyam is watching, goddammit.

It definitely, absolutely is not hot. And yet… your hips twitch, and your breath hitches.

“That feel good?” Txetyo asks, peering up to grin at you. Your attention is dragged back to him and you blink, dazed.

“Yeah,” You lie. “So good.”

“Mm,” Txetyo hums in satisfaction, slipping two fingers into you. “Good.”

You grunt at the stretch of his thick fingers, breathing deep. His mouth returns, his fingers jabbing kind of aimlessly, but it hardly matters. Your attention is locked on Neteyam, and it’s somehow making Txetyo’s useless attempts feel somewhat invigorating.

“Oh god,” You gasp. You’re so confused. Part of you is still waiting for Neteyam to speak up, to make a sound or to clear his throat. Something. But he just watches on, his pretty eyes dark.

“Mm, so pretty,” Txetyo murmurs from between your legs, still blissfully unaware of your onlooker. “Can I fuck you now, tawtute?”

Despite yourself, you find your eyes darting over to Neteyam. The stupid fucker is still looking, and when he sees that you’ve looked at him his lips quirk. Your whole body flushes deep with heat, and you try to pretend like you aren’t taking direction from him; usually, his appearance would have stopped this entire encounter dead in its tracks. But you’re continuing, and the fact is, you feel as though you need his permission or something.

“Y-yes.” You say.

Neteyam purses his lips, and raises his non-existent brows. Fuck, what does that mean?

“How would you like me to–”

“Just like this.” You blurt. It feels, for some reason, as though you can’t risk Txetyo noticing Neteyam. This is the only way you can see Neteyam without Txetyo noticing him, anyway.

Txetyo shuffles up your body, his bulk dwarfing you. There’s a moment’s struggle as he’s lining himself up against your pussy, groaning low as he pushes into you. The stretch is intense, and a little painful, as always; you never quite get used to the bone-deep satisfaction of that achey biting stretch in your cunt.

The stretch is satisfying, like it always is, but it’s not necessarily special. Txetyo is not as evenly proportioned as he looks, and his cock is smaller than other Na’vi you’ve been with. That is, mostly, a good thing; it means he can fuck you without lube, which you usually have to use to accommodate the shocking stretch of taking a Na’vi cock. It also means that you adjust to having him inside you a little quicker, your muscles easing gradually around the intrusion of his dick.

What is special (or at least unusual) is the fact that Neteyam is still watching. You stare back, maintaining a bewilderingly intense sort of eye contact. Txetyo groans as your cunt clenches down on him, and he lowers his face to bury it in your shoulder; like this, your view of Neteyam is completely unimpeded.

“Ah! You’re so tight,” Txetyo hisses. “This is okay?”

“Yes,” You gasp. “You can move.”

And by God, does Txetyo move. He jerks in and out of you with a complete lack of coordination. You bounce and flop against the luminescent bed of moss beneath you, occasionally throwing a hand over your head to try and anchor yourself to a tree root behind you, just to stay put for a second or two.

Neteyam is undoubtedly amused. He has a hand pressed to his mouth, and the skin around his eyes is scrunched up with mirth. At one point, when Txetyo starts humping into you so desperately that you grunt, wincing, Neteyam doubles over himself completely, laughing silently.

“Oh, oh,” Txetyo groans. “Tawtute, I am going to– you are so tight, so hot inside–"

You smack one of Txetyo’s hands away from where he’d been rubbing determinedly at the side of your vulva. You rub at your clit instead in fast, harsh circles, staring at Neteyam desperately. You don’t actually know what you’re looking for, or what you want him to do… but you want him to do something.

Neteyam reaches down to palm the bulge at the front of his tewng that you hadn’t even noticed until now, and you moan. You rub yourself even faster, attempting to angle your hips in any way that could increase your pleasure from Txetyo. It seems impossible, but you manage to catch one or two good strokes.

“Please, please—!” You gasp, eyes wide as you maintain eye contact with Neteyam over the wide bulk of Txetyo’s shoulders.

Neyeyam moans. It’s low, barely noticeable under Txetyo’s own strangled sounds, but you hear it clearly. Your body seizes up and then you’re coming, gasping high and quick as you drink Neteyam in with your eyes, frozen under Neteyam’s gaze in turn.

“Unnng,” Txetyo grunts as he comes too, thrusting into you through the last shocks of his orgasm.

You barely even blink, your eyes fixed wide open as you tremble, your breaths shaky. Neteyam doesn’t break eye contact either, watching you so damn closely that it feels bizarrely as though he’s watching a show you’re putting on, as though all of this is for him. The worst part is you feel as though you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t.

Neteyam silently turns and slips away through the foliage, and Txetyo flops onto the mossy ground beside you moments later, breathing heavily.

“That was good.” Txetyo sighs, his voice thick with satisfaction.

You don’t reply, still staring at the place Neteyam had disappeared into the trees. You’re partly unable to believe what just happened and partly turned on beyond belief, just knowing it did.

What the fuck?

#on holidays atm and I’ve been stressing about how to post this 😭 I’ll have part 2 posted in a day or two! #neteyam #neteyam x human #neteyam x reader #avatar x reader #na'vi x human #na’vi x reader #awow #avatar way of water #neteyam fic #fics

[strawbeerossi]

You Think, Genius?

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid

Description: Being friends with Spencer Reid is an adventure within itself. Movie nights are no exception.

Content/Warnings: Friends type humor, tension, mention of food/food fight, best friends to lovers trope, heavy kissing, very sweet smut (wild because I hardly write that, I feel like lmao).

Word Count: 2.7k

Anon Request: spencer reid x sarcastic funny reader? not mean but like kinda like Chandler from friends humour? with earlish seasons reid (season 3/4)ish cute smut. ADDING TO THE SARCASTIC!READER SHE AND SPENCE HAVE A BESTFRIENDS TO LOVERS ARC 🫶🫶

Navigation || Criminal Minds Masterlist || Request

RIP Matthew Perry, thank you for playing the king of sarcasm and being my inspiration for this. 🩷

“Serial killers and childhood neglect have actually been linked together for years. Some of the most notorious serial killers were abused in some shape or fashion at home. Which makes sense whenever you take into account how easy it is to psychologically break a person and cause them to shut down, children being more receptive than most adults.” Spencer rambled on about some study he had been reading about.

Everyone was mostly tuned out besides you, your left hand holding the travel size cereal box up in clear view, your eyes wide. “That explains why I can’t stop eating this cereal! My mom made my life a living hell and now, all I think about is cereal. Oh god.” You said in a sarcastic tone, causing Derek to chuckle from his desk.

“She’s a cereal killer.” He joked while you both were giggling, making Spencer look between you and Derek, a confused expression on his face.

“She’s not a serial killer. I don’t think she’d be working here if she was one.”

The laughter continued on at your coworker’s obliviousness. “No, Spence,” JJ shook her head as she approached your chair, gently taking the little box before holding it up. “The joke is that she’s eating cereal. Cereal killer.” The blonde explained as you were turning back to Spencer.

“Oh, it’s no joke. I’ve got six bodies in my apartment right now. Just waiting to get home to do away with them.” You continued on, a little snort leaving your lips as you were getting your cereal back.

As you were pushing a handful in your mouth, you watched as Spencer looked at you with his head tilted to the side. “You haven’t killed anyone. I know that for a fact. You’re too nice.” He said while he was tapping his pen against his desk, JJ let out a huff and waved him off before she was walking away from your desk to get to her office.

“Isn’t there such a thing as killing people with kindness? That is my big move. I will be nice to them and boom,” You punched the palm of your hand to appear menacing. “I go in for the kill.”

Spencer was shaking his head with a soft giggle at the mere idea of it, your sarcasm slowly seeping through the cracks in an obvious way where he could see it.

“Right. How foolish of me to not understand it.” He joked softly while looking back down to the page he’d been doodling on. Your humor was new to Spencer, something he wasn’t really used to. You were a very sarcastic person, hardly ever having a conversation without injecting the encounter with your wit and sarcasm. He was still pretty clueless with it, however he felt he was getting better. Especially now that you had him saying his own sarcastic phrases at random times. It was weird for the rest of the team seeing the way you’d slowly brought Spencer out of that little bubble he was used to.

He was always the one who didn’t understand jokes or take sarcasm, appearing confused a good chunk of his career from the jokes and lighthearted banter. Being friends with you was a good way to learn how to understand though, which was why he was so lucky that you were his best friend.

“I was thinking of watching a movie. Do you wanna join me?” You asked, packing up your things as you looked over at Spencer as he raised an eyebrow.

“Tonight?” He asked, making you shake your head.

“No. Next week.” You answered with a deadpan expression while he crinkled his nose.

“You’re.. Being sarcastic..” He began while you rolled your eyes fondly with a smile.

“You think, genius? Come on, are you gonna come over or not?” You asked while putting your bag over your shoulder.

“I don’t see why not. Can we watch that new show that’s airing tonight?” He asked curiously, already following you out of the bullpen. He knew you’d give him a ride rather than sending him to go on the metro and meet you there later.

“Sure. I’ve been interested in it anyway. The new sci-fi one, right?” You asked as you made it to the parking garage with him as you were both in search of your car.

“Yes! It actually looks very interesting because from what I’ve read, they don’t make up their own rules as they go. They are using actual scientific data and evidence.” He gushed while you were clapping your hands together.

“Like learning in school! Oh how I loved school!” You were laughing as he had taken notice of the sarcasm and nudged your arm.

“Seriously. It’s going to be great! You may not think it now but you’ll enjoy it while learning about the real world when it comes to tech and space exploration.”

“We’ll have to see about that Dr. Reid.”

The ride back to your apartment was peaceful, the sounds of some radio station filling the quiet atmosphere of the car as you passed by numerous street signs. The comfortable silence was something you liked, never needing to strike up a conversation to enjoy Spencer’s company. Even if he was just reading while you were on your phone.

Back at your apartment, you’d just gotten the channel you needed pulled up, having about ten minutes until the show was supposed to air. Spencer made sure to tape it back at his own apartment, wanting to go back and watch alone to fully appreciate the show for more than its entertainment quality.

“Do you want me to run to the kitchen and get snacks?”

“You don’t have to run, Reid. You can walk.”

“Ha ha. So funny. Snacks or not?”

You were waving him off with a little laugh, offering a smile. “Yeah, yeah. Please go get some snacks. I think I have a big bag of that buttered popcorn you’re obsessed with.”

Spencer practically skipped to the kitchen upon hearing the news, retrieving one of your mixing bowls from one of your cupboards. After filling it up generously with the snack of choice, he was stopped by the fridge to grab two water bottles. With the two cold beverages under his arm, he was hurrying to the living room.

“I think we are all set.” He beamed with pride while placing the bowl on the table.

“Perfect. You’re right on time. It should start after these commercials.” You informed him while leaning forward to get a handful of popcorn from the bowl. While pushing a piece of popcorn into your mouth, you were only raising an eyebrow when you felt a pair of eyes on you. “What?” You asked, head turning to face Spencer as he quickly put his hands up in self defense.

“Nothing! I just wanted to see if it was good, that's all.”

“Right. I hate to tell you this, it tastes like buttered garbage. I don’t think you should subject yourself to eating it.” You joked, picking up a piece before flicking it in his direction, his eyes widening as he felt the snack hit his cheek.

“That could’ve taken out my eye!”

“Too bad it didn’t. We could get you an eyepatch.”

That was when Spencer took it a step further, getting a small handful of popcorn before throwing it in your direction. He was too busy laughing at your expression that mirrored his shock from earlier, pieces of popcorn in your hair and some on the couch.

“Is it a war that you want?”

“Me? You started it! Call it returned fire.”

That kickstarted a popcorn fight that didn’t seem to let up. Spencer was reaching into the now empty bowl before letting his eyes widen. He had no more ammo yet you had two handfuls. He was done for.

“You can apologize and we can end this.” You warned, your body now propped up on your knees as you had eventually turned to face him on the couch. “Just one ‘I’m sorry’ can end this bloodshed.”

“Never.”

“Suit yourself, Reid.” You were winding back one hand whenever Spencer was moving quickly to grip your wrist. There was some screaming, some laughing, and eventually you were being wrestled down onto the couch.

“Drop it!” Spencer laughed, both of your wrists being pinned down. “You do that and this will be all over.”

“No way.” You laughed, panting as you were being pinned down, some of Spencer’s long hair tickling the skin of your cheeks. You had both been in that position for a few more minutes before things calmed down, leaving you and the man above you to stare at one another and wait to reach a stalemate.

There was a growing tension, your faces only inches apart as he had you trapped between his body and the couch. Those beautiful eyes were looking down at you, almost as if Spencer was using the close proximity to take in every feature on your face. It was enough to make your face flush, cheeks hot from his gaze fixed on you and only you. The sound of the opening credits for the show you were supposed to be watching was playing in the background yet you could only look at each other.

There wasn’t a beat missed as he leaned down, lips against yours in a soft, yet cautious kiss. He felt like he had to play it safe, although the way you were feverishly returning the kiss told him all that he needed to know.

There was a fiery passion as your lips slotted together, almost as if they were made for one another. Your hands were moving to tangle in his hair, legs now wrapped around his waist as you both gave in to your urges that were always bubbling under the surface for however long you’d known the loveable genius.

It felt right, in a way. The way your were wrapped in one another’s embrace while having a moment of passion that you never expected to happen. However you had to admit, this was better than you ever thought.

Spencer was pulling out of the kiss, face flushed as he stared down at you with a shy smile. “It felt right. I’m sorry.” He whispered, only being pleased with the way you responded by pulling him down to connect your lips again, wanting to savor another moment as if he were going to disappear in thin air if you let him get too far.

The kiss had escalated soon enough, both of your clothes in a pile on the floor as you were tangled up on the couch, nothing but underwear separating you from each other. “Are you sure that you want this?” Spencer soon asked, his forehead against yours. Your friendship was always special to him, so naturally, he was worried about preserving those positive memories and the relationship as a whole.

“Definitely sure. I’ve thought about this for years.” For once, you were genuine. There was no hint of sarcasm dripping from your tone. That’s how he knew this was serious. “I’ve always loved you. I know you know that because I tell you all the time but it’s.. It's different than loving your best friend.”

Your confession had Spencer’s cheeks bright red, head nodding slowly to show he was paying attention. “Y-yeah. I love you more than a friend too.” He said slowly while he was bringing his hands down your hips, his fingertips tracing over your hot skin as he was hooking his fingers in the waistband of your panties.

Your hips lifted to assist him tugging your underwear down, your own cheeks hot from being exposed in one of your most intimate areas. It wasn’t like you hadn’t had sex before and you had confidence when you did but this seemed different.

“I need.. Hold on.” Spencer began while pushing himself up a bit, your watching with a raised eyebrow as you propped yourself up on your elbows. He went for his slacks, getting his wallet.

“Are you gonna pay me for this?”

“What?! No! I-I just..” He began, shuffling through the wallet before he was pulling a condom from one of the wallet folds.

“You have a condom? You were planning for this?”

“No! I have.. I asked Derek for one. Obviously not for tonight but I had to be prepared!” He said quickly while tossing his wallet on the table.

You didn’t tease him any farther, instead your eyes gazing over his body as he was shimmying out of his boxers while standing. Just kissing you had his cock semi-hard, his hand wrapping around his shaft to give a few pumps in order to complete the process although it wasn’t too hard with the anticipation of what was to come tonight.

After sliding on the contraception, he was heading over to get settled between your legs. His eyes were glancing over your glistening pussy, your arousal shining in the dim light of the living room. “Wow.” He whispered, hand moving between your thighs as his thumb pressed against your throbbing clit. The pressure alone was enough to make your mouth go slack.

“Fuck.” You breathed while feeling the pad of his thumb start to rub your clit, your arousal coating it with each swipe. He was taking his time with teasing you, at least.

When he was finished with massaging the bundle of nerves and he couldn’t hold back any more, he was grabbing his cock before lining his tip along with your entrance, thick tip breaching your slick cunt as he was slowly pushing into you when you were both ready enough.

There was a pleasurable burn as he was stretching out your inner walls, your hands tightly gripping onto his shoulders as you pulled his body down onto yours just to feel his skin against yours. It was oddly more intimate than you could’ve expected, even with him staying perfectly still with his cock nestled deep inside of you.

There was a soft gasp leaving your lips when he gave a slow thrust, just testing the waters for now as he didn’t wanna go too crazy before you were ready. He didn’t plan on going super hard anyway, that wasn’t who he was. “You alright?”

“Yeah. Yeah. Keep going.” You urged.

Once you proved comfortable enough due to your persistence, Spencer’s thrusts began to pick up a steady pace and rhythm. Your moans were enough encouragement for him to feel confident enough in the act, not shying away from you as much as anyone would’ve expected.

They rhythmic sound of his skin slapping against yours coupled with your gasps, shaky breaths and moans were filling the living room, the long forgotten show still filling the background noise. Spencer had since embraced you, one arm wrapped under your frame as the other kept himself pushed up over you. He just wanted to feel you close, to hold you as he made love to you.

It was beautiful to him, the way you were holding him and keeping him close in return. It was like you were the only people in the world, no responsibilities other than being close to one another. The warmth of your flushed skin against his was all he needed to be happy.

It was a dream, essentially. A dream so vibrant that Spencer didn’t want it to end, even if he knew that realistically he couldn’t be in a dreamland forever.

As he was torn from his thoughts at the feeling of your hands on his cheeks, he was offering you a smile as you were locking eyes with one another. “I love you.” He said softly, repeating what you’d both confessed earlier while leaning down to press his lips against yours.

It was after the fact whenever you were finally speaking again, body sitting up from the spot you were in on the couch as Spencer had retreated to the kitchen to dispose of the used condom. “Do you wanna come take a shower with me? No funny business.” You put your hands up in defense.

“No. It’s too personal for me to see you naked.” For the first time, Spencer was the one to be sarcastic with you, making you both burst into laughter.

“I’ve taught you well. Come on.”

#spencer reid #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid fandom #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid x fem!reader smut #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid smut #spencer reid scenario #dr spencer reid #doctor spencer reid #criminal minds smut #criminal minds fluff

[just-jordie-things]

cinnamon girl - kamo choso

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ 10k follower event special! ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ word count: 17.3k warnings: i think none? summary: the brothers who are your neighbors across the hall settle inside of your heart as if there had been a space inside of it left just for them. more info: neighbors to friends to lovers. super cute big brother/little brother choso and yuji dynamic <3

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

[ there’s things i wanna say to you, but i’ll just let you live // like if you hold me without hurting me, you’ll be the first who ever did // there’s things i wanna talk about, but better not to give // but if you hold me without hurting me, you’ll be the first who ever did ]

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

When she’d first met her neighbors across the hall, (y/n) hadn’t known they were her neighbors.  At the time she’d still been new to the building, having only lived there for under a month, and she hadn’t quite found the time (or courage) to introduce herself to the other residents on her floor.  Going door to door seemed corny, and she figured over time they’d see each other in passing, but it appeared her floor was rather quiet.  Maybe they all worked at odd hours, or from home and never left their apartment, but either way, she’d barely met anyone in the building.  

Save for the uppity property manager and a few of the maintenance crew.  Neither of which she took much pleasure in interacting with.  Neither of which provided much room for forming friendships.  

Although one of the maintenance guys who fixed her broken dishwasher would have been more than happy to accept her number, as he’d tried multiple times to leave his personal number in the case of any other ‘emergencies’ as he called them.  Now she tried to DIY her way out of any issue the small apartment gave her, just so she could avoid having him sent to her again.

But a month into her lease, she’s still a stranger to what feels like the entire complex, and she’d gone to the mail room to check her mailbox.  As usual it was empty, and despite having hoped to make friends when she’d moved to the area, it was a bit of a relief to not have to talk to anyone right now.

That is, until a small person came running into the room.  Or, half running half waddling on his chubby legs.  When the child wasn’t immediately followed by an adult, (y/n) found herself panicking.

“Uh, hello,” She greeted, with painful awkwardness.

So she wasn’t that great with kids, sue her.  She’d never had to interact with small children before, with no kids in her extended family, she didn’t exactly have the experience.  Nonetheless, the little boy in the footie pajama tiger costume looked up at her with wide eyes and a wider smile.

There still didn’t seem to be an adult in the area, and her panic kicked up a few notches.

“Is your mommy or daddy around?” She asked, wondering if she needed to put the mail away and notify the proper authorities of this missing child.

Surely someone was missing him- he was downright adorable.  With the brightest brown eyes she’s ever seen, a toothy smile that displayed his missing front tooth, and the striped tail of his tiger onesie being wrung around in his little hands- (y/n) had never felt baby fever before, but she imagined it had to be akin to the tightening heartstrings in her chest.

“No,” The boy shakes his head, most of his body following the movement in a small sway.  “I don’t have them” 

Okay, now she was going to have to do a breathing exercise before she called the police, so that she could remain calm until this missing child was returned home safely.

With a slow exhale, she tucks her mail into her purse before kneeling down before him.  It takes her a few moments to try and find the right thing to say, this kid looked no older than five and she just wasn’t equipped to strike up a conversation with a child so young about where their home was.  She tries to speak calmly and slowly.

“Are you lost, little tiger?” 

Mentally, she cringes at how awkward her voice sounds when she’s trying to be approachable.  Does it come across as creepy? Fuck, she hopes not.

But the kid giggles, and shakes his head.

“No, I’m not lost!” He squeals it out with that adorable little kid delight, as if he’s trying to fight a fit of giggles.  “I live here! With Choso-nii!” 

So he lived with his brother.  That explained the no parents thing… sort of.  At least enough to calm her racing heart down a bit.

“And where is Choso-nii?” She asks next, praying that at any moment this mystery brother would appear and scoop up this kid before she had to strain through much more interaction.  Then again, she hoped no other adults would have to witness the embarrassing way she spoke to kids.

“I don’t know,” The boy shrugs his shoulders.  “We were playing hide and seek.  He hasn’t found me yet!” 

(y/n’s) eyes widen with alarm before she realizes that she should probably keep her expression as neutral as possible, so as not to worry the child.  It settles back into a nervous smile before she nods in slow understanding.

“You play hide and seek… out here…?” She asks slowly.

The boy holds both of his hands up to his mouth as he giggles.  If she wasn’t so anxious about him being all alone, she would’ve melted at the adorable and squeaky sound.

“Nooo,” He whines out playfully.  “I was trying to find a really good hiding spot!” He declares.

Again, (y/n) nods, and gives him a small laugh.

“Well buddy, the mail room isn’t a great spot.  It’s all open, see?” SHe gestures around her to the space they’re standing in.  “He’s sure to find you right away.  Did you leave your apartment?” 

The boy nods back at her, but his attention starts to stray as he begins to look around, probably for a better hiding spot.

“Does your brother know you left?” 

This time he shakes his head.

(y/n) huffs, and places her hands on her knees.

“What’s your name, kiddo?” 

“Itadori Yuji!” The boy declares, his attention back on her as a proud grin covers his face.  “I’m five!” He adds, holding out his hand with all five fingers stretched out on display.  This time when (y/n) giggles, it’s genuine.

“Itadori Yuji, I’m (y/n),” She introduces softly before tilting her head at him.  “I live in the building too.  Do you think I could take you back to your brother?” 

Yuji frowns.

“But then my turn will be over” 

She’s quick on her feet to come up with an excuse to take him back home where he belongs.

“Well… I’m sure I could convince your brother to give you a re-do.  Since I messed up your game and all,” She suggests.  “Do you think then it would be okay?” 

Yuji thinks about it for a minute, humming and looking around the mailroom some more.  Once he realizes there’s not a good hiding spot anyways, he gives in, and nods his head.

“Okay!” He agrees, and (y/n) smiles back at him as she stands up again.

“Do you know which apartment is yours, Itadori Yuji?” 

“I know which button to push in the elevator!” He tells her, and she figures that’s a good start for now.  If knocking on every door is what it took to get him back to his brother, she’d have to accept that.

“Alright then, let’s get to it” 

As the pair make their way to the elevator, Yuji pulls the hood of his pajamas over his head.  It’s got fluffy little ears to complete the whole costume, and (y/n) can’t help the smile that takes over at the adorable sight.

Yuji’s excited about pushing the buttons in the elevator.  He expertly pushes the one with the number for his floor- or at least she hopes it’s the right one- before he pushes the one to close the doors.

“Choso-nii always lets me push the buttons” He tells her matter of factly.

“I can see why.  You’ve practically mastered it,” She teases in response, and he seems to take it as the highest form of compliment.  It’s then that she takes notice of the floor he’d chosen.  “I think you and I live on the same floor, Itadori Yuji” 

“Really?” The boy’s eyes light up as if he’d just learned his best friend lived so close- despite them still being strangers in her book.  It makes her chuckle as she nods her head at him.

“Really” She affirms.

The first neighbor she meets, and it’s a rowdy five year old boy.  Oh well, it could’ve been worse, right?

“That’s so cool! I can’t wait to tell Choso-nii!” Yuji bounces with his giddiness, and it has (y/n) chuckling again.

Even if his brother had lost track of the kid, it was clear that Yuji adored him with how much he brought up his name.  (y/n) only hoped that when she returned him, Choso-nii lived up to the first impression his little brother was creating.

“He doesn’t really have any friends,” 

Yuji immediately begins to overshare, and now (y/n’s) trying to stifle her laughter as he babbles on about his older brother.  He’s chatty for a five year old sharing an elevator ride with a stranger, but (y/n) didn’t mind.  The less she had to make awkward small talk, the better.

“But that’s just ce-bause he works a lot.  He works really late too.  Sometimes past my bedtime.  But he doesn’t get in trouble ce-bause he’s a grown up and I’m just a kid.  But when I’m a grown up I’m gonna stay up past my bedtime, too!” 

A little chuckle slips past her lips just as the elevator dings, and the doors slide open again.  Yuji steps out and happily leads the way down the hall.  (y/n) hopes his confidence is based in his memory on where he lives.

“He’s really nice though.  He should have more friends.  But he has me!” 

“Is that so?” (y/n) giggles softly as Yuji begins to skip down the hall.  

They’ve almost approached her apartment, and her panic begins to crawl back in.  Does he really live up here? Does he really live in this building? When he finally plants himself in front of a door, she prays to whoever’s up there that his brother is on the other side.

Glancing behind her to see her own door there, she swallows the lump in her throat.  This kid lived right across the hall from her? Her brows are pulled into a pinch, and she’s debating on scooping Yuji up and calling the police to find his proper address, because what are the odds of that? 

Maybe she was just paranoid, but she’s on the brink of reaching out to the boy when the door in front of them swings open.

Oh wow, is the first thought on her mind, and she’s lucky her throat went too dry for her to accidentally let them slip off her tongue, too.

The man that stood in the doorway couldn’t have been more than a couple years older than her- which she wasn’t expecting- but more surprisingly, he’s the most handsome man she’s ever laid her eyes on.  

With a tall stature and broad shoulders, he nearly took up the entire doorway with his body.  He was wearing a hoodie and sweats, but she could tell that he was well built under his clothes.  From his size alone, she could conclude that, but there was also a certain aura about him that told her he was strong.  Not to mention, with fair skin and dark hair swept into two messy buns, he was just so pretty she couldn’t tear her eyes off of him.  There was a thin black line tattooed over the bridge of his nose and across his cheekbones that stood out on his pale skin, and she stared at it too long to be deemed appropriate, but she just couldn’t help herself.  He was the most mesmerizing person she’s ever seen.

She’s stunned so thoroughly that she just stands there with her lips sealed and her eyes blinking wide.

Yuji, on the other hand, is overwhelmingly delighted.

“Choso-nii!” He cheers, leaping towards his brother and clinging onto the hem of his sweatshirt.

“I was just going to come look for you, booger,” Choso finally speaks and (y/n’s) struck with a mixture of relief from the confirmation that this was Yuji’s proper home, and a sudden heat in her chest from hearing his deep voice.

The man places a hand on top of Yuji’s head, smushing down the ears on his hood as he tilts his head back so he could stare down at him sternly.

“You don’t leave the house like that,” He scolds in a gentle voice, clearly more concerned than anything.  “You know that” 

“I was still in the building,” Yuji pouts.  “And (y/n)-san found me,” 

Before Choso can ask who he means, it strikes him that the woman who’d been at the door with his little brother was still standing there.  She throws her hand up in an awkward wave, still too starstruk to speak.  Also perhaps a bit intimidated from having to explain herself to the handsome stranger- who happened to be her neighbor.

Before she could properly introduce herself, or find her voice, Yuji’s pulling away from his brother and reaching for (y/n’s) hand.  He tugs on it as he stares up at her with pleading eyes.

“C’mon (y/n)-san, tell him, tell him!” 

Choso eyes his brother with a peculiar narrow to his eyes, before shifting his gaze upwards, towards the girl who’s quietly laughing and pulling Yuji’s hand off of her own gently.

“Right…” She murmurs down at him, before turning towards his older brother.  “Well, I must request that you give Yuji a re-do on his round of hide and seek,” 

Choso blinks, his eyes widening in just the slightest.  Enough for (y/n) to realize there was a slight violet hue in the darkness of them.  Her heart skips  a beat- has she ever seen violet in a person’s eyes before? Certainly not.  She has to clear her throat before continuing.

“You see, I made him end his round early,” She continues, trying to bite back the grin that threatens to take over her features as she takes responsibility for the game being ended so abruptly.  “Completely my fault” 

A breath of a laugh escapes him, before his lips part and he smiles between her and his brother and fully laughs.

“I see,” He hums.  “You can have a redo on one condition” 

“Anything!” Yuji wailed out dramatically 

“The game stays inside the apartment.  Got it?” 

“Okay!” Yuji agrees to the rule right away, throwing himself at his brother again to wrap his arms around him in a display of his gratitude.  He giggles as he looks up at his beloved big brother.  “I’m gonna go scout hiding spots while you talk to (y/n)-san!” 

Before anything more could be said, Yuji’s darting back inside the apartment.  Even with the footie pajamas, his stomps as he roams around looking for small places he could fit could be heard by the pair at the door.

“Scouting is cheating!” Choso hollers behind him, but when he’s met only with Yuji’s giggling, he figures it’s probably a lost cause already, and turns back to where his little brother’s not-as-little friend is still hovering in the hall.  His adam’s apple bobs as he swallowed thickly, trying to cure the dry spell on his throat before he speaks again.  “Thank you for helping him get back.  I’m, uh, sorry if he was trouble” 

“Oh, he was no trouble at all,” She says easily, because it’s the truth.  She tries not to focus on the purple in his eyes as she jerks her thumb over her shoulder.  “I actually live across the hall, so if anything he walked me home like a tiny gentleman” 

She laughs off her nerves as she pulls on the strap of her bag, clutching it close to her chest.  It’s a relief when he quietly chuckles too.

“I’m Kamo Choso, by the way” He says, stepping out of the doorway just enough to extend his hand to her.  She hesitates before taking it, and he wonders if he’s imagining things or if she really was blushing from the simple handshake.

“(y/l/n) (y/n),” She replies softly.  “Nice to meet you” 

She hadn’t thought Choso would take Yuji seriously when he was instructed to talk to her, but to her surprise he leans back against his door frame and takes it upon himself to strike up a conversation.  It’s nothing too exciting, but it was more than she was expecting, and it still has butterflies tickling in her stomach.

“How long have you been in the building?” 

“About a month,” She answers.  “Pretty sure you’re the first person I’ve met that actually counts, though” 

“That actually counts?” His brow raises.

“Would you count the landlord and the maintenance crew?” She asks, a slight smirk tugging on the corner of her lips.  It draws another chuckle out of him, and he has to nod his head in agreement.  “Well, I should let you get back to your game,” She shuffles backward, her hands relaxing on the strap of her bag as she reaches her side of the hall.  “I’m glad I met you both, though” She adds in a moment of bravery before she’s fishing for her key.

“Me too-” 

“Choso-nii! Time to cooount!” A little voice hollers from inside his apartment, sending him whirling around to scold Yuji for being too loud when the door is open and all of their neighbors could surely hear his screeching.

(y/n’s) already slipped inside her door and shut it again when he turns back again.  He’s disappointed, even if he didn’t know what else to say, he would’ve liked to talk to her a little bit longer.  With a huff, he hopes they’ll cross paths in the hall sometime soon, before he heads after his brother.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

After a few more rounds of hide and seek where Choso had to pretend he hadn’t seen Yuji’s tail poking out from under the couch, or his padded clawed feet from beneath the swaying curtains, he decides it’s time to make them both lunch.

And in the midst of perfecting his craft at grilled cheeses, he thinks he might as well press his kid brother for some more information about their supposed new neighbor.

“Your new friend seemed pretty nice” He tested the waters, keeping his focus on the stove while Yuji did a coloring page at the counter across from him.

“(y/n)-san?” He asks, grinning right away.  Out of the corner of his eye, Choso can see that he began to kick his feet back and forth.  “She’s really nice! I like her a lot” 

“Mhm” Choso hums back, poking the sandwich around with a spatula to test if it was ready to flip yet.  Yuji watches his big brother curiously.

“Did you like her too, Choso-nii?” 

“I said she seemed nice” Choso chuckles, glancing over at Yuji for just a moment before focusing on the stove again.

“Well, good.  Ce-bause I told her you didn’t have friends, so maybe she could be your friend” 

Choso nearly chokes on air as he turns to Yuji again, a wince of a smile on his face.  Yuji’s grinning, of course, because he’s five and had all the best intentions in making sure his big brother had companionship, but Choso can’t help but worry that he’d killed his chances of getting to know her better.  She probably thought he was a creepy loner now.

“You… told her I didn’t have friends?” He repeats, hoping maybe the context will make things better.  Maybe Yuji hadn’t said exactly that.

“Yep!” The boy responds, popping his lips with certainty before tucking away the green crayon he was using.

Choso tries to hide the curl in his lip as he turns off the stove and plates the grilled cheese.  Relying on a five year old to be a decent wingman was too tall of an ask, he realizes.  Yuji’s cuteness could only carry him so far… if only he wasn’t such a blabbermouth.

“Well, hopefully she’ll still like me then” He mutters as he sets the plate in front of his brother.  Yuji beams as he thanks him, taking a large bite before going back to his coloring sheet.

Unbeknownst to Choso, Yuji held onto that little comment in his memory.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

To his luck, he happens to run into (y/n) just a week later.

He and Yuji were waiting at the elevator, with Yuji being a little more whiny than usual.  Choso had actually been praying for the doors to open faster so that he could get the two of them out of this building before his younger brother had a meltdown.

It wasn’t often that Yuji misbehaved.  He was a really good kid, who responded well to rules and structure, and was always polite where he needed to be.  He could get rowdy, and maybe he was more chatty with strangers (especially cute ones that live across the hall) than Choso would have liked, but he was a respectful little five year old with a good heart, and he wouldn’t ask anything more.

Except for today.

“But I don’t like her house.  It stinks.  And there’s too much cat hair!” Yuji whines.  He’s not being loud, but he’d had the whiny voice for the better part of an hour now, and Choso was starting to go a little crazy.

“I thought you loved Adelaine-san’s cats” He reminds him gently.

Truthfully, Choso wasn’t a fan of Yuji’s current babysitter either.  She was nice enough, but she overcharged, and she never seemed to feed Yuji food he actually liked- resulting in Choso having to pick up fast food on the way home every time he picked him up from babysitting.  However, she was the closest sitter to them, and she didn’t mind keeping Yuji late when Choso worked nights- which was often.

“I do, but there’s so many Choso-nii,” Yuji pouts up at his big brother.  “Gets stuck on my clothes” 

Despite being irritated with the whiny attitude, Choso can’t help but give his kid brother a small smile.  What five year old cared about fur sticking to clothes? Yuji was something special.

“Well, you can’t come with me to work-” 

Finally, the doors opened, but before the brothers could step in, (y/n) was stepping out.  With arms full of bags of groceries- almost a comical amount of bags.

“(y/n)-san!” Yuji cheered after seeing his long lost friend.  (It had been a week)

Despite her obvious struggling with her things, Yuji threw himself at her, eager for a hug.  Choso was quick to grab him by the hood of his truck-themed sweatshirt, reeling him back before he could make the poor girl drop her things.

“Let me help you” He offered, already reaching for the handles of the bags lower on her wrists.

“Oh, you don’t have to, I made it this far-” She starts to deny the offer, but Yuji’s piping up before she could finish.

“I’ll help too!” Yuuji declared, following his big brother’s example and taking two bags, one in each hand.

“Be careful with those, Yuji,” Choso says quietly.  “That’s food, you need to be gentle, like how we carry bread, remember?” 

Yuji nods affirmatively, already marching back down the hallway towards their doors.  Choso hopes he doesn’t think he can sneak back home with this little act of service.

“Thank you,” (y/n) chuckles as Choso loads his arms up with her bags.  “I don’t believe in making multiple trips” 

“Yeah, I gathered that,” He replies, smirking to himself as he did a quick count of all the bags between them.  What the hell did she need all these groceries for? Does she let her pantry run out before she makes a trip? “Caught you at the right time though, huh?” 

“You did,” She muses, digging a free hand into her pocket for her key.  Yuji was patiently waiting at her door, and she made sure to greet him with a big smile.  “And how have you been, Itadori Yuji?” She asks, unlocking the door and pushing it open with her hip.  To her amusement, Yuji strolled right into her apartment.

“Terrible, (y/n)-san!” He cries out.  

“Yuji, you can’t just walk into people’s-” 

“It’s alright,” (y/n) giggles before Choso could scold his brother for inviting himself into her home.  “Please, come in.  He’s just trying to help, can I get you boys something to drink?” 

“No, that’s alright, thank you, I actually-” 

Choso’s interrupted again, but this time by his nosy brother, who’s set the grocery bags down on the kitchen floor before marching back over to them and putting his hands on his hips.

“He’s making me go to the babysitter,” He whines to (y/n), who raises her brows as she nods back at him, taking him quite seriously- much to Choso’s dismay.  “I hate the babysitter!” 

Choso rolls his eyes as he’s setting his armful of bags on the counter.

“We don’t hate,” He says softly, but Yuji’s pout only worsens, before he gives (y/n) his best puppy dog eyes.  Choso sighs as he turns to (y/n).  “On Thursdays and Fridays I work at a bar, so he can’t come,” He explains quietly.  She nods at him too, giving him the same level of her understanding and attention.  If he wasn’t starting to run late, he would have reveled in it a little longer, just because it was cute.  “He thinks it’s the end of the world, but it’s not.  It’s only for a few hours-” 

“It’s torture, (y/n)-san!” Yuji reaches out to her, and on instinct she finds herself crouching down, returning his dramatic pout.

“Oh it sounds like torture!” She cries back.  For a moment, Yuji seems taken aback by the behavior, but he just as quickly lights up, and reaches towards her again.

“Can I stay here with you instead!?” He asks, already grinning ear to ear from the idea, before she’d even given him her approval.

“Yuji,” Choso sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.  What was it with his little brother and overstepping when it came to her? “I’ve already called Adelaine-san, she’s expecting us” He says pointedly. 

Yuji frowns, and this time it’s not like the baby faced pout he made before.  It’s a genuine disappointment in being told he had to go.

“I don’t mind,” (y/n) says softly, tilting her head to look up at Choso, waiting for him to decide whether or not he was alright with that.  “I can look after him for a while.  Then you don’t have to make an extra stop on your way home, we’ll be right here” She suggests.

Yuji’s grinning again in no time, bouncing on his feet before rushing over to his brother and clinging onto his pant leg.

“Please Choso-nii! Pleeaaase?” He whines, and somehow it’s more irritating than before.

(y/n) chuckles as she stands, stepping a little closer to speak under her breath, while Yuji was still whining and bouncing and not paying attention.

“Only if you’re okay with it, of course,” She says.  “I understand if you’re more comfortable with-” 

“You’d really be alright to take him for tonight?” He asks her, eyes flickering between hers.

She presses her lips together as she nods, trying to will herself not to get lost in his pretty dark eyes.

“Just for a few hours,” He repeats his earlier mention, and she nods again.  “You’re sure?” 

“She’s sure! She’s sure!” Yuji screeches, still pulling on Choso’s leg and waiting for the confirmation that he didn’t have to go to the smelly cat house.

“Alright… fine,” Choso agrees, and Yuji’s full on jumping now.  Choso only hoped he wasted off this excess energy so he was calm and good for (y/n) the rest of the night.  “But you have to be good.  If (y/l/n) has any problems she’ll tell me, and then it’s cat hair for the rest of your life, got it booger?” 

Yuji nods his head up and down repeatedly, so much so they’re surprised it doesn’t give him a head rush. 

“I’ll be good! I’ll be so good!” He promises.  Choso smiles, reaching a hand down to mess up his hair affectionately.

“I’ll give you my number, in case you change your mind, or if he… breaks something, or something” Choso mutters, pulling his phone out of his pocket.

(y/n) does the same, they swap, each plug in their contact, then swap back with shy smiles.

“I’m sure he’ll be lovely,” She tells him.  “Don’t worry about us, I have a lot of movies.  Maybe I’ll make him a big dinner and put him to sleep” 

The corner of his mouth tilts into a smirk.

“Works like a charm every time,” He murmurs.  “But I gotta get going, I don’t want to be too late” 

“Of course” She nods, headed towards the pile of grocery bags on her kitchen counter.

“I’m usually out around one, but if it’s any later I’ll text you, alright? Or- should I call?” He’s walking back towards the door, but he hesitates as he waits on her answer.

“Either works,” (y/n) shrugs with a small smile.  “Have a good night!” 

It’s stupid, but his face feels warm as he lingers at the door just a few seconds longer, before he nods back at her.

“You too, (y/l/n).  And thank you” 

Once he leaves and the door is shut behind him, (y/n) has to shake her head to rid the silly fluttery feeling in her chest.  

“Well,” She flattens her hands over the front of her pants, smoothing down the nonexistent wrinkles, before she turns to Yuji with a smile.  “How about while I put these groceries away, you let me know if you see anything you like and I’ll get started on that for dinner, hm?” 

“Did you get the dinosaur shaped macaroni?” Yuji asked hopefully.

(y/n) winces as she glances over her bags of produce, bread, and regular-shaped pastas.

“I… did not” She admits, and she actually feels a bit bad about being underprepared.  Even though she’d only taken on this babysitting gig five minutes ago.

“That’s okay,” Yuji shrugs.  “I like all sorts of things!” 

And he’s not wrong.  As she puts away the boundless groceries, Yuji points out all sorts of things he likes.  Fruits, veggies, he didn’t seem like a picky kid at all.  (y/n) actually found herself impressed by his wide palette.

“Choso-nii makes all sorts of stuff” Is what Yuji says when she compliments him on his taste.

“He’s a good cook, huh?” 

“Very good!” Yuji tells her.  “Maybe next time he’s not working you can eat with us, instead!” 

The insinuation has her cheeks flaring up with color and heat, but she politely agrees and tells him she would like that.

The rest of the night goes without a hitch.  Yuji teaches her how to play crazy 8s- even though the rules were simple and she’d memorized them when she was his age- and they play that while chatting over everything and nothing for a long while.  Yuji tells her all about his best friend Megumi.  Then when he runs out of things to say about him he talks about his favorite subjects, his favorite color, and that starts a long conversation about his favorite everything.

It’s obvious he tires himself out with all his chatting, so it’s not long after that when (y/n) shows him her movie collection and lets him pick one out.  It takes him some time, as he treats this task with the utmost importance.  He couldn’t make a bad choice, of course.  (y/n) doesn’t mind.  She’s come to shed the awkward layers and has learned exactly how to talk to Yuji.

She’s learned that taking everything he says to be completely serious and dive into a conversation about it as if he were anyone else seemed to do the trick.  Yuji liked to talk, and he had plenty to say.  Like how squeaky the swing sets were at school, and how he disliked when people used them because of it.  He was kind, and he was entertaining.  He was certainly the best company she’d taken up in a while.

When he picks the movie he settles in on her couch, cozying up in the fluffy blanket she’d grabbed for him, and he tells her that he picked one of his favorites.

The entire first half, Yuji is on the edge of his seat.  Both from watching his favorite animated movie, and also from watching (y/n’s) every reaction to it.  It started to grow on her, so eventually she really started to do up her reactions to every little scene.

At the halfway point she made him a big bowl of popcorn and only stole a handful of it when he wasn’t looking just to get a giggly reaction out of him.

Before she knew it, with a full belly, a cozy blanket, and his favorite movie, Yuji was dozing off on the couch.  

As quietly as she could, (y/n) got to work cleaning up the kitchen.  Although with how much energy Yuji had spent earlier in the night, he was sleeping as hard as a rock.

With nothing but time to spare, she decided now was as good a time as any to catch up on some reading.  So once everything was clean again, she settled in on the couch, tucked the blanket around Yuji, and got to reading.

She lost hours until her phone buzzed with a notification.

[ kamo choso ] : just got out, will be by in twenty minutes or so 

She liked the message so he knew she was still up and saw it.  She kept the chat open for a few more minutes, contemplating sending a message back.  sounds good! or he was great, out like a light! But the longer she hesitated the more she felt like too much time had passed, and it would be embarrassing to send a text.  So she didn’t.

She wasn’t able to focus much on reading after that.

Choso knocked on the door not too much later, twenty minutes to be exact, just like he said.  She tiptoes her way to the door, and smiles upon finding a very tired looking Choso on the other side.  The circles under his eyes look a little bit darker, his hair is starting to fall from his already messy buns, and he looks like he’s struggling to keep his eyes open.  Regardless, he lifts his head and gives her a small smile when she opens the door.

“Hey,” He hums.  “How was it?” 

“It was fun, actually,” She whispers back, checking over her shoulder to make sure Yuji was still sound asleep.  “He’s a really great kid.  You must be doing all sorts of things right” 

Her eyes crinkle when she smiles up at him, and for a moment- and maybe for the first time- Choso nearly forgot about Yuji.  He’s not sure anyone’s ever looked at him with the soft, sweet look that she’s looking at him with now.  He gets lost for a moment, practically drifting off right before her.

“Oh- you’re exhausted, come in,” (y/n) mistakes his look for tiredness, and steps out of the way to let him in.  “Yuji’s still sleeping on the couch.  He’s a hard sleeper, huh?”

“Very, yeah.  Building had a fire drill a few months back while he was having a nap.  Slept through the whole thing” 

(y/n) giggles to herself as Choso approaches the sofa, smiling at how content his kid brother seemed to be while curled up in the blanket, sound asleep.  He was careful as he stooped over to scoop him up.  It took some help from (y/n’s) part seeing as one of his hands had an iron grip on the blanket, but eventually he was free of the fluffy restraint, and Choso had him settled against his shoulder with ease.  As expected, Yuji remained asleep.

“Oh, I can’t believe I almost forgot,” Choso shifts Yuji to be held up by one arm so he had a free hand to reach into his pocket.  “I definitely owe you for this, what do you think is fair?” 

“Oh, no,” (y/n) shakes her head back at him.  “You don’t have to pay me, it was no trouble at all”

“You don’t have to say that, really, how much-?” 

“I don’t have to say it, I mean it,” (y/n) assures him.  “Really, he was a perfect kid.  I’d… I’d happily do it again, if you ever need” She offers, a nervous smile playing on her lips.

“Okay,” He returns the smile, but he still hesitates with his wallet in his hand.  “You’re sure I can’t give you something though? At least pay you back for the food?” 

“I’m sure” She has to bite down on her cheek to keep her laughter from ringing out too loudly.

Slowly, she follows him back to the door.  It’s later than she’s usually up, and she’s so tired that she’s sure she’ll pass out as soon as her head hits her pillow, but still she lingers at the door with him, waiting for him to say anything else.

“Well, then I can’t thank you enough.  I really appreciate it, (y/l/n).  Yuji did as well, I’m sure” 

“I think he did.  I hope, at least,” She murmurs, smiling fondly at how cozy Yuji seemed to be sleeping on his brother.  “And you can call me (y/n), by the way” She adds, almost as an afterthought.

Choso swallows the lump in his throat, nodding back at her as he waits for his voice to return to him.

“Alright,” He murmurs, finally crossing the threshold of her doorway.  “Good night then, (y/n)” 

Her heart is racing at a million miles an hour.  She fears it might shoot straight out of her chest like a bullet.

“Good night” She manages to murmur back as he crosses the hall, and she shuts the door behind him.

A sigh escapes her, and she realizes that she’d been holding her breath until she’s alone in her apartment again.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Things take off after that first time she babysat Yuji.

Occasional drop offs turned into frequent visits.  Yuji often wanted to stop by (y/n’s) apartment after Choso picked him up from school, eager to tell her about his day.  Whether Megumi brought snacks for lunch again because his caretaker had a sweet tooth, or if he wanted to show her that he learned how to do a cartwheel, there was always something.  Yuji was bountiful in excuses to go across the hall.

And to his delight, (y/n) ate it up.  She watched him more and more while Choso was at work, or running an errand that Yuji didn’t feel like tagging along to because suddenly he wanted to do his homework at (y/n’s) instead.  Choso had a habit of always double checking with her beforehand, sending her a quick text to see if she was even free.  And it seemed that every time, her door was open.  There was never a time where she turned them down.

She became Yuji’s regular babysitter, and after a while it barely even felt like babysitting.  His drawings and coloring pages decorated her fridge, he’d often leave a few toys behind, figuring he’d play with them the next time he was over, and he always used the same fluffy blanket when he’d be over late while Choso worked.

It was safe to say Yuji had grown attached to her, and fast.  Even when he wasn’t at her place, he wouldn’t shut up about it at home.  Not that Choso minded, he liked hearing about (y/n’s) day through Yuji’s eyes.  He got to learn all sorts of cute little things about her that way.

While Yuji had been spending more and more time with their neighbor, Choso couldn’t exactly say the same.  He chatted with her in passing, usually at dropoff and pickup, and he tried to text her more- funny Yuji-isms he heard throughout the day, memes, offers to leave money for dinner for the two of them- and even though she was always receptive over text, reacting to every image and responding to every message, it just didn’t feel like enough.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

“Choso-nii, do you have a crush on (y/n)-san?” Yuji asked him one day, seemingly out of the blue.

They’re in the grocery store, where Yuji’s filling up the cart with junk, even from his booster seat in the cart.  Choso does a double take at his younger brother, as if the question registered a second late.

“What?” Is all he can muster.

Yuji blinks back at him.

“Do you have a crush on her?” He repeated himself, tilting his head and widening his eyes as he studied his big brother.

“Wh-why do you ask that?” He stammers over his words, although he wishes he would have reacted a little more coolly.  Did she say something? Did he give something away? Where in the world would Yuji pick up on that?

“I dunno,” Yuji shrugs.  “Ce-bause you should” 

Choso forgets the cereal boxes he was looking at, turning all of his attention to his little brother, since now he deemed this conversation required all of it.

“I should, huh?” He repeats curiously.  “What’s that mean, booger?” 

“She’s nice,” Yuji says bluntly, and Choso laughs softly at the reasoning.  “And funny.  And a good cook,” 

He continues to list all of his own favorite qualities of (y/n), sure that most of these reasons are perfect enough for his big brother to have romantic feelings for her.  At five years old, the most Yuji knew about romance was that the prince kissed the princess and everyone was happy, but it was a decent start.  He only wanted that same happiness for his big brother- and (y/n)-san- after all.

“She has a lot of movies.  And she’s really pretty” 

Choso smiles at his brother, finally settling on a brand of cereal and tossing it into the cart behind him.

“That so?” He asks teasingly.  “You sure you don’t have a little crush, booger?” 

“No!” Yuji squeals and begins to giggle.  His cheeks are red just from the accusation, and Choso can’t help but laugh at the display.  “She’s too old, Choso-nii!”

“Right answer,” Choso remarked, pushing the cart out of the aisle and weaving into the next one.  “But why the sudden interest, hm?” 

“Well…” Yuji drawled, glancing around the aisles to avoid his brother’s eyes.  “If you had a crush on her, and she had a crush on you, then you could live together, and we could get an even bigger house, with more toys, and we could eat all our breakfasts and dinners together, and watch movies together, and get a dog-” 

“Woah, woah, woah, you’re laying way too much on me, bud,” Choso chuckles, but he can’t deny that his face was starting to feel warm from all the conclusions Yuji was jumping to.  They were too wholesome for him to take.  “A dog?” 

“A puppy!” Yuji declares.  

To Choso’s luck, conversation steers in the direction of pets, and he spends the rest of their errand explaining why they weren’t getting a dog- or any animal for that matter.  Even if Yuji makes a convincing argument about how cute it’d be.

It’s better, though, because Choso needed some time to recover, and figure out exactly how he’d move out of this crushing stage.  If Yuji had taken notice of it- in his own odd way- then surely (y/n) had to feel it to some degree too, right? 

He just needed to find a good window to ask her out, and take her out properly.  Not just a quick coffee in the morning when Yuji wanted to come over for a bit.  A real date, outside of the building.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Choso finds that chance one afternoon after swinging by her apartment so Yuji could tell (y/n) all about his day at school.  She’s prepared him a snack today, celery sticks with peanut butter smeared down the middle.  She offered him the raisins to make the ants, but Yuji politely declined, seeing as he doesn’t eat bugs.  She doesn’t argue, simply pops the raisins into her own mouth as she listens to him ramble on and on.

As Yuji drags on his storytelling as long as he can, Choso’s sat at the counter, stealing a celery stick or two that Yuji wasn’t eating while he rambled away.  He’d grown used to his brother’s chatty nature, but he was always surprised how (y/n) was able to sit through it with her full attention.  She never zoned out, and never missed a detail.  In fact, she would ask him more questions to prompt him into talking more.  It was so endearing that Choso can’t help but smile as he watches her interact with Yuji so wholeheartedly.

It takes a grand total of twenty five minutes before Yuji’s done with all his stories for the day.  Choso sends him off to their apartment with his backpack, telling him to get started on his homework, and he’d be over in a few minutes.  Yuji doesn’t find the instruction odd at all, happy to get started on his worksheet for the night.

(y/n), however, gives Choso a puzzled look as he stays behind in her apartment.

“Is everything alright?” She asks on impulse.

While they had talked many times before, and she wouldn’t call him a stranger, this was the first time they were left completely alone, and she was all too aware of that fact.

“Yeah, yeah of course,” He chuckles at her knee jerk reaction to worry.  “I just… wanted to thank you.  Again” 

She still has a puzzled look on her face as she leans against the counter, waiting for a better explanation.

“Thank me?” She repeats softly.  “For what?” 

“For all your help, with Yuji,” Choso explains.  “For the babysitting, and dinners, and… and ants on a log,” He chuckles as his gaze drifts off to the leftover snacks on the counter.  “Our mom passed before Yuji could even get to know her, and I’ve… been doing this for so long it just sort of feels like it’s always just been the two of us, you know?” 

(y/n) hums quietly, keeping her response to a small nod.  Choso’s never opened up about their family history before, and Yuji was only five and never seemed to question his brother’s custody over him, so it wasn’t like (y/n) had ever heard anything like this before.

She wants him to know that she’s listening, that she’d always be here to help the both of them, because she’d grown to care for them both so much.

“But it’s been nice… your help, I mean,” Choso goes on.  “Yuji likes you a lot, a really lot, he never shuts up about you” 

She chuckles at that, the mood lightening again.

“Really?” She asks quietly, as if the boy could hear from across the hall.

“Yeah,” Choso’s eyes widen with the flair.  “But I’m glad, you know, that he has you.  Someone that’s not me for him to hang out with and talk to” 

“I am too,” She replies sweetly, a smile stretching across her face.  “He’s a really special kid, you’re quite lucky” 

His heart warms up so much he doesn’t think he could take it.

“I know not everyone sees it that way,” He thinks aloud.  “Most people tend to look at us and… want to leave,” 

The smile on her face begins to falter, but (y/n) tries to keep her expression neutral.  She’d never thought much about what other people thought about Choso and Yuji.  Why should she care? She knew them both well enough to know that they were happy, and that Choso was more than capable as his brother’s guardian.

Then his wording dawns a new thought on her.  Did people walk out of his life because of Yuji? The idea makes her sick.  It makes her stomach twist and her heartstrings pull tight.  Friends? Partners? Was Yuji such a dealbreaker that he couldn’t even have companionship?

She feels awful now, crushing on him so immaturely, not taking into account all the possible pasts he’d had with other people that had gone poorly because he had a kid to put to bed at a certain time.

Tears prick the corners of her eyes, but she’s determined not to let a single one fall.

“Anyways,” Choso clears his throat, laughing nervously as he looks back up at her again.  “I just think it’s important that you know how glad I am- that- that we both are- to have you around” He finishes with a small smile, his nerves eating away at his insides.

“Of course,” She mumbles back, her throat tightening up too much for her to speak any louder.  “Like I said, Yuji’s a special kid.  I want to be good to him,” She says, a smile twitching at the corners of her mouth as she tries to feign joy, even with a heavy heart.  Then, she says, “And I want to be a good friend to you, too” 

His nerves come crashing down on him in an instant.  It piles up and morphs into something else entirely- something worse.  Dread.

He hopes that his expression remains neutral as he holds eye contact with her.  His mind battles itself as he tries to come up with what to say next.  They both sit there for a few painfully silent seconds as Choso weighs his options.

If he were a smoother man, one who was better with his words,  he would’ve taken his chance.  He would’ve articulated all of his thoughts in just the right way and let her know that he was starting to harbor a crush on her that was reaching embarrassing levels.  He’d crack a joke to lighten the mood after the confession, and then invite her out for a drink, or dinner- hell, maybe even both.

Those few seconds seemed to last too long but went by quick all at once.  The fact of the matter was that she was good for them.  She was good for Yuji, attentive and loving and so, so patient.  It was clear that she cared for him, and Yuji never hesitated to voice how much he enjoyed (y/n’s) companionship.

Choso was sure if he were to cross the wrong line now, he’d not only create an awkward tension with his neighbor, but also ruin the good thing that Yuji had going as well.  She was some idealized morph of a babysitter and a friend for him, someone he could go to when he needed help with homework, or to show her the toy he picked out with his allowance.  And at the end of the day, Choso wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he did something to take that away.

So he swallowed whatever he was going to say, gave (y/n) a small smile, and nodded his head back at her.

“You are a good friend” He finally answers her with quiet agreement.

She assumes he’s a bit embarrassed to say something so corny, so she lets out a little laugh and begins to clean up the snack dishes off the counter.  Choso lingers around her place a little longer until he can’t take it anymore, bidding her goodbye with the request that she makes more snacks for their visits.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Despite Choso’s adamant attempts at convincing his little brother that he didn’t see (y/n) as anything other than a friend, Yuji was never fully convinced.  Choso wasn’t sure what it was that made Yuji so sure that there was something between them- one sided or otherwise- but he was relentless about it.  Any time they saw her in passing, as soon as he was alone with his big brother, Yuji would make some comment or another about it.

In the boy’s defense, the two were spending a lot more time around each other these days.  (y/n) had taken Choso’s words to heart and began preparing an after school snack every day, so when Yuji popped by for his usual visit, Choso was always in tow.  No matter what she’d prepared he was all over it.   A package of fruit snacks or homemade banana muffins, Choso was accepting the snack as if it were a bountiful harvest.

The brothers seemed to stay longer and longer in the passing weeks, and soon these visits became routine.  It didn’t take long, just under a month before Yuji was committed to making it an everyday occurrence.  But what began as a quick visit for a snack and then to jabber on to (y/n) about his day at school soon turned into something else, too.

Yuji would move on, often sitting on the floor at (y/n’s) little coffee table to do his homework, and Choso would hang out in her kitchen for a bit longer so they could catch up on the events Yuji was less than interested in.  Her work, his work, and anything that came to mind at all to keep the conversation from ceasing.  There were some days Choso overstayed his welcome so much that Yuji would want to go back to their apartment, and Choso would still stay longer at (y/n’s), drinking two more cups of tea than he would’ve liked, but any excuse to sit with her at the counter a little bit longer.

And then one day, he’d struck gold.

“I’m sorry it’s so hot in here, I’ve got the windows cracked but without a breeze it doesn’t really do much,” (y/n) had apologized in passing as she pulled out a few small plates for the snacks she’d made that afternoon.

Truthfully, Choso hadn’t noticed the heat until she brought his attention to it.  He was far too enamored with the cute pink apron she’d tied around herself.  She always wore it when she’d baked something- so he knew that when she opened the door to let him and Yuji in today that they were in for a very good afternoon snack.

“The AC’s been broken so long I forget I’m used to it, so it’s alright if you boys want to take your cookies to go” 

“Cookies!?” Yuji had squealed and raced into the kitchen, savoring the lingering scent of fresh baked cookies before it could evaporate.

Again, Choso almost missed his queue.  (y/n) had taken to referring to them as you boys a couple of weeks ago, something he’d picked up on the very first time she’d said it.  It was nothing special, really, it was a casual form of referring to them both, but god the sweet way her voice formed those words he could almost be deluded into believing it was because they were her boys, and the domesticity of it all had him reeling.

Luckily, he came back down to earth soon enough.

“Your AC’s broken?” He furrowed his brow and tilted his head curiously.  “Have you told maintenance about it?” 

(y/n) makes a face that’s somewhere between amusement and a wince, before plating up two cookies for Yuji.  He thanked her four or five times before he took the plate to the table and began to gobble them away.

“I… try not to call them if I don’t have to,” She explains to him, side eyeing Yuji at the table to be sure he was too focused on his cookies to eavesdrop.  “It’s just the AC anyways, I have a fan in my room and during the day the open windows are no problem” 

Choso’s expression doesn’t let up, his confusion getting ahead of him.

“And why don’t you call maintenance..?” He pushes, knowing that the nervous smile on her face wasn’t for nothing.

“Eh, well, um, when I first moved in and had some issues I called for them, but one of the guys really wanted my number… and then when that didn’t work he tried leaving me his, and it was just this… whole weird thing” 

She shakes her head and keeps her focus on packaging up the leftover cookies in a little tupperware container.  Unfortunately, she misses the amused little smirk on his face as he leans into the counter.

“So you’d rather sweat through the summer than tell a guy you’re not interested?” He asks, and that finally earns her attention.  Her eyes narrow at him slightly before she crosses her arms defensively.

“Oh, I made it clear that I wasn’t interested,” She mutters.  “How does turning down a phone number five times not scream uninterested?” 

Choso chuckles at that.

“Want me to take a look at it?” 

She looks surprised at first, and he’s not sure if it’s because of the offer itself or if she was genuinely shocked he had a clue what he was doing, but the look wears off into a soft smile.

“Really?” It comes out in an astonished murmur, before her eyes go wide and then she’s coming around the counter to stand closer to him, apparently still in disbelief that he’d do such a thing.  “You’d do that?” 

He laughs again, this time with a creeping smile trying to turn into a full blown grin.

“Yeah, of course,” He says, and she only brightens further at the promise.  “Least I can do to repay you for watching Yuji, for free” He reminds her, and she gives him a look that tells him what she always swears by- she’d do it for free as many times as they need- before brightening again.

To her surprise, again, Choso’s incredibly handy.  He told her he didn’t mind if she had something else to do, or hang out with Yuji while he was keeping busy in his coloring book, but she couldn’t help but watch while he tinkered around with the air conditioning unit.  It didn’t take him long to solve the issue at all, and when he had it all set up and it kicked into life she was cheering so excitedly Yuji even came over to enjoy the fresh gust of sweet cool air.

He ended up staying the rest of the night, fixing the squeaky vent, and the delayed garbage disposal, until he and Yuji couldn’t turn down her offer of dinner.  Well, Yuji vehemently agreed, Choso took a little bit of convincing.  He was eventually swayed by the gentle “Least I can do to repay you for fixing up my place, for free” that (y/n) uttered.

And just like the afternoon had gotten away from them, the evening soon did too.  Once dinner was finished the remainder sat on the table for a good hour as conversation poured out.  Yuji was enthusiastic in complimenting her food, only kissing up just a little in order to get an extra cookie with his dessert.

Choso was adamant in helping her clean up, despite her many assurances that she could handle it herself.

“C’mon, help me show Yuji how to be a proper guest,” He’d muttered, plucking the freshly washed dish out of her hand to dry off.  (y/n) made a face, knowing he’d offered just the right excuse to get her to give in.  Choso grinned back at her.  “That’s more like it” 

It was embarrassing how his smile had her heart racing, but she couldn’t deny it, and she certainly couldn’t help it.  All she could do was keep her head down and her focus on washing the dishes.

“Thanks again for dinner,” Choso murmured after a few minutes of diligent dish washing and drying.  He peeked a glance over at her, but it was clear that she was avoiding his gaze.  “It’s nice to have a home cooked meal.  Not that I can’t cook! I’m a great cook actually- I should really repay the favor- I just mean it’s nice to… be treated to one” 

No matter how hard she bites down on her lip, (y/n) can’t keep herself from giggling at his rambling.  While he’s been talking to her a lot more this past month or so, it’s often when prompted, and when he’s the first to speak, she could tell that he kept himself reserved.

It was refreshingly heartwarming to watch him stammer over his words now.

“Well… I wouldn’t turn that down,” She admits quietly, and it takes all the courage she can muster to glance at him out of the corner of her eye.  “But Yuji told me his favorite meal was chicken nuggets, so I’m not sure how convinced I am of your cooking ability” 

Choso turns towards her, catching her off guard by their close proximity, but she doesn’t shy away under his gaze.

“He’s five,” He argues with a playful roll of his eyes.  (y/n) snickers, hesitating as she turns back to washing up the last plate in the sink.  “But fine.  I’ll make him his own dinner, so you and I can enjoy something more refined, if that’s what you so please” 

The idea of just the two of them, eating a dinner he’s cooked, alone, has her cheeks burning up so quickly she can’t stand to look at him again.  So instead she murmurs out a weak agreement, and quickly excuses herself to check in on Yuji.

Yuji had sort of been playing with his action figures, but he’d mostly watched his brother and (y/n) whisper and laugh between themselves as they did the dishes at an excruciatingly slow pace.  He knew he wasn’t just seeing things, he knew what the giggling meant.  At least, in his own warped and childlike way.  He didn’t care to think about it too deeply, not because he was five, but because he wanted to accept what he was being shown at it’s face value-  his big brother finally making a true friend.

So when it was time for the brothers to go home, Yuji made sure to hug (y/n) extra long.  Even when she’d tried to pull away and stand up, he squeezed his arms tight around her.  If he held on long enough, maybe it would be enough for her to understand just how important she was to the both of them.  So (y/n) chuckled, returning the favor with an affectionate squeeze and a pat on his back before he finally let her go with the brightest smile on his gap-toothed face.

And then he’s tugging on his brother’s pant leg gently, before pushing his hand against the back of his knee and sending him stumbling towards (y/n).  Yuji’s not a toddler, he very well could have used his words to tell his big brother what he wanted him to do.

Choso catches his footing with ease but it’s his expression he can’t cover up.  A nervous smile and widened eyes as he silently scolds his little brother for the childish action.  He’s only met with that giant grin before he turns to (y/n).

She has the warmest smile on her face, as if she holds nothing but endearment for the embarrassing display.  He’s lucky at this moment, because she’s the first to step forward and raise her arms.  If it weren’t for her, Choso’s sure he would’ve fumbled this chance.

Her touch is delicate, as if the frame of his shoulders doesn’t double hers, as if she’s not reaching on the tips of her toes to fully wrap her arms around his neck before squeezing on.  Even her embrace is so thoughtfully gentle.  He can’t help but think it’s all for Yuji’s sake- he’s the one that prompted this little goodbye display, not that Choso is complaining- but he supposes she’s trying to appease the five year old while not crossing an unspoken boundary with him as well.

Choso overthinks this quick hug down every avenue he can, before realizing that he has to make sure she knows there’s no boundary in sight, so he circles his arms around her waist, returning the same soft squeeze as best he could.  He hoped there was still enough distance between them that she couldn’t feel just how seriously his heart took the casual affection, because it was pounding in his ears like it was trying to alert him.

It’s over in a matter of seconds, but he relishes in the way her hands slide across his shoulder blades before she steps away and drops them to her sides.  If he wasn’t dead sober and anchored in this moment, he might’ve purred.

It dawns on Choso that he might be the slightest bit touch starved.

There’s a pink to her cheeks now paired with her doughy smile, and he could almost stand here and admire how pretty she looks when she’s being bashful, no matter how embarrassing it would be to let time lapse as he did so.

“Well,” The word comes out of her in a wispy breath, and she smooths her hands over the nonexistent wrinkles in her shirt before continuing, brightening her smile as she glances between her visitors.  “I’ll see you boys after school tomorrow, yeah?”

Their responses overlap, but couldn’t have been more further apart

“Okay!” Yuji says with nothing short of glee.

“Of course” 

Choso’s voice is quieter than his brother’s, but it’s filled with such earnestness that it has (y/n) blinking back at him as if he’s just sworn a blood oath to her.  Her lips part as her eyes grow round and she’s at a loss of what’s normal in saying goodbye to your neighbor who you’re sort of friends with and you sort of have a crush on.  

All she can manage is a twitchy smile as she leads them to the door.  Yuji skips across the hall with delight.  Choso lingers for an extra moment and when his eyes meet hers, she finds herself gripping onto the edge of her door with a little more force.  Her eyes wander over the length of the black ink adorning his face before meeting his gaze.

“Thanks again for dinner,” He’s still speaking with that same low and steady tone.  (y/n) tried to gulp down the lump in her throat as she held his eye contact.  “I’ll text you about when I owe you one?” 

Unable to clear the block in her voice, she gives him a smile and a nod.  She hopes he doesn’t react awkwardly to her lack of verbal response, and he doesn’t.  In fact his timid smile turns into a beam.  It somehow makes his lips look even more plush and kissable- 

Her eyes shoot back up to his as she returns the grin and mumbles a pathetic sort of goodbye.  When she finally is able to shut the door behind him she heaves out a breath she hadn’t known was the source of the lump in her throat.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Choso started to reach out more, by whatever means necessary.  Anything to spend a little more time talking to her.

He texted first more, found excuses to stop by her apartment, and always lingered for too long when dropping off and picking up Yuji.  He even started playing the daily Wordle just to have something more to talk to her about. 

There were moments that he swore she felt what he did.  Little things, perhaps in the way she looked at him, or the sweet way she spoke quietly when it was just the two of them.  Choso was sure he wasn’t imagining things, because why else would she look at him like that? Why else would she always call his name when saying hello or goodbye?

[y/n]: u up? 12:47 a.m.

Even with the progress Choso felt he’d made in getting closer to her, this was completely new territory.

As late as it was, he’d been aimlessly scrolling through his phone, so when that little notification popped up he’d clicked on it right away.  He didn’t dare start typing- it would be humiliating if he created a bubble in the chat in the same second her message had sent- but he was upright and staring at the screen in disbelief.  

Soon enough a typing bubble appeared, and he gnawed on the inside of his cheek as he awaited further context.

Would it be ‘sorry, wrong person!’ or was she genuinely reaching out to him at this hour? It had been some time since he’d received one of these tell-tale messages, but his heart still raced with the anticipation.

Finally, her text appeared on his screen.

[y/n]: took a guy home after a date and he’s not taking the hint to leave.  mind popping over with an excuse so he’ll go? 12:49 a.m.

Choso’s out of his bed and sliding his feet into his slippers before he even starts typing up his response.  

But with how quickly he’s out the door he figures there’s no point in texting back a confirmation, seeing as he’s crossed the hall between their apartments and knocking on her door before the clock ticks to 12:50.

There’s the faintest sound of shuffling from inside, and he thinks he can make out that (y/n) is saying something, but he’s not sure what.  She opens the door and greets him with a brief second of pure relief and joy upon seeing him.

Only a brief second, however, as her expression morphs as soon as her eyes wander away from his face and nearly bulge out of her head.  In his rush to get out the door he’d forgotten to pull on a shirt- or maybe he’d decided it just wasn’t a necessity, he wasn’t sure himself.

Her mouth moves, but when no words come out, Choso takes it upon himself to deliver his golden, life saving excuse.

“Hey, (y/n/n), got any tea?” 

Honestly, it’s the first thing he comes up with.  It’s not the greatest lie of all time, but as soon as he asks for it he realizes his throat is a little parched and a warm cup of tea would be perfect for getting him to relax back in bed after this.  (y/n) let out the smallest of scoffs, the corner of her mouth tilting upward as she stares back at him as if to ask ‘a nickname and tea? is that the best you can do?’ 

He fully grins back at her, and as soon as she’s stepping out of the doorway he’s inviting himself in and making his way to the kitchen.  He doesn’t even spare a glance towards the man sitting on the couch, even though he’s blatantly watching Choso like a hawk as he casually rummages through (y/n’s) cabinets.  He’d been over often enough now that he knew where she kept everything he’d need, and he figured the more he made himself at home, the more this loser would feel threatened and leave.

“Uh- who’s this?” The man asked, still gawking at Choso and his naked torso, but the question is clearly directed at (y/n).

“Oh, this is Choso,” (y/n) replies sweetly.  She’s still standing at the door, a bit unsure of what to do with herself.  As much as she was hoping he would get her text and come to her rescue, she doesn’t know what she’s supposed to do now.  “He’s my… neighbor”

Choso smirks to himself as he sets the kettle on the stove, and then finally turns to give her late night visitor a once over.

He’s not typically a jealous man, it just wasn’t in his nature.  However, the feeling he’s flooded with now as he stares down the wincing man who appeared to be half-hiding himself on the couch while Choso stared him down was something akin to jealousy.  It was pride.  All it took was one look for Choso to know that when this guy left her place, he would never return.  He would never see her again.  Even if he didn’t choose this for the sake of his own good, Choso would make sure of it.

What was she doing with this coward to begin with? He wonders as he watches the man stand from his seat.  Piercing violet eyes track his every movement, from the way he stuffs his hands into his pockets, to the bob in his throat when he swallows.

Choso’s smirk widens, and his gaze softens when it’s casted towards (y/n).

She looks unsure of what to do with herself, but as soon as she meets his eyes she shuffles towards the kitchen, putting more distance between herself and her unnamed visitor.

“You always have your neighbors over for tea in the middle of the night?” The man asks, perplexed by the entire situation.  He already has his doubts that this isn’t staged, but his obvious nerves make him lose all credibility.

Choso only chuckles to himself, casually leaning into her kitchen counter, closing some of the distance between himself and (y/n).  She casts him a look, and he can’t be too sure, but he assumes it means she doesn’t know what to say, so he takes over.

“I’m certainly the only one she opens the door for,” Choso responds with a smoothness that surprises even him.  He watches the realization sink in on the stranger’s face, before he moves closer to (y/n), poking her in the hip to gain her attention once more.  “Isn’t that right, sweetheart?” 

Her eyes are wide, and set on his in a deadlock.  Choso doesn’t think she even manages a blink.  She’s already rendered speechless by the unexpected comment.

But she closes her mouth and nods her head.  Not at her date for the evening- no, she doesn’t turn to look at him or even peek at him from the corner of her eye.  Her gaze is still locked on Choso’s as she nods back at him in a weak motion.  In that moment it’s not even an act for him when he chuckles back at her, his smile growing softer.

“Fucking fantastic” The man mutters, but he’s already grabbing his jacket off it’s hook and was making for the door without further explanation.  

Choso’s quite happy with himself, knowing that he made a complete stranger walk out of (y/n’s) apartment without having to be told to.  He didn’t have to do anything at all, really, all he did was show up and let himself in for a cup of tea.  It was only convenience that he’d opted out of a shirt for the whole ordeal.

The door opens and shuts and it takes that entire time for (y/n) to find her voice.

She smacks him on the arm first, though.

“What?” Choso chuckles as he rubs the spot in mock pain.

“You know what,” She hisses back at him, but the undeniable smile on her face makes her sound more playful than threatening.  “What the hell was that?” She even giggles through the question.  If she’s even trying to come across as scolding, Choso wouldn’t be able to take her seriously for even a second.  

“It worked, didn’t it?” He asks.

(y/n) makes a face at him.  A face that says enough.  She knows he’s full of shit.

The kettle begins to whistle just in time, and without giving her an answer, Choso turns around to put together his cup of tea.  (y/n) has to bring her hand to her mouth, afraid that just one heavier breath and he’d realize that her eyes had been straining to hold eye contact with him.

Of course this was ridiculous, because she knew Choso was a well built man.  But having him shirtless and in her kitchen as if he belonged there was making her face heat up faster than she could control it.  She pressed the pads of her fingers into her cheek in an attempt to cool down the skin.

“What was up with him anyways?” Choso asked, his back still turned to her as he focused on his drink.

(y/n) dodges the question.

“Are you really staying over for tea right now?” 

When he turns back to her, mug in hand and the slightest of furrows in his brow, she worries that she just might not be strong enough to handle this one.  Dropping her hand from her face, she straightens up her posture.

His hair is down, the thought is like poison, shooting through her train of thought and completely dissolving it.  It looks soft.  

“It was a nice enough evening…” She explains slowly, despite telling herself that she didn’t owe him any sort of explanation, there was a compulsion to tell him all about it.  Choso merely raises a brow before he sips his chamomile.  “I thought a few drinks back here would be nice, too.  Turns out he’s only got one good story and the rest is… boring” 

He laughs at that, lips curling into a grin and shoulders shaking just a little  bit.  (y/n) links her fingers together as she leans into her counter with a sigh.

“Think I could’ve told you that.  I’d have to give the guy credit for one good story.  Just running of first impressions, that is” 

(y/n) huffs again, this time a pout gracing her lips.

“Yeah, well, next time I’ll run it by you then” She mutters, and she doesn’t really mean it, but Choso takes an interest in the comment anyways.

“You’ll run it by me?” He smirks to himself.  “And what makes you think I’m gonna green light any more of these ‘nice enough evenings’, hm?”

“You’ve got a point.  What do you know about dating?” 

“What do you?” He throws the question back at her, and that pout is returning in an instant.

And then she’s dropping her head in her hands and groaning aloud.

“It’s stupid that you’re right,” She admits, dragging her hands down her face before setting her jaw in her palms.  “I don’t know what I’m doing at all.  What the hell is wrong with me? The last three dates I tried to go on have been like this.  Not terrible.  Not great.  Certainly not special or memorable- besides the sting of failure” 

Choso’s quiet for a moment, letting it all sink in before he spoke his piece.  His lips purse before he sets his mug down and takes a few steps closer.  (y/n) watches, but she doesn’t lift her head from her defeated position.

“It’s not you,” He says, and she’s surprised by the serious tone in his voice.  “Besides, you managed three dates, yeah? That’s something” 

“That’s just this week” (y/n) mutters.

Choso can’t hide the change in expression, and she must notice his shock, because her lips tilt into an amused little smile.

“Did you think I just sat around and waited to play babysitter?” She teased quietly.  “Not that I don’t love it, but I do have a life, y’know” 

He should say something, backtrack and explain himself before she assumes that he’s never given her free time a second thought.  He thought about it too much, really.  And had he known she’d been spending it on useless dates, he would’ve involved himself sooner.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself.  Dating just… sucks” 

It’s lame advice, Choso knows that as soon as it comes out, but (y/n) nods her head in agreement before leaning off the counter and wrapping her arms around herself.

“It does suck,” She murmurs back.  “But… I’m scared that if I don’t put myself out there now then I won’t have…” She trails off, and a look of realization flashes over her features before she shakes her head.  “It’s late,” She says then.  “You should probably g-” 

“What were you going to say?” 

She blinks back at him, pausing as if to take a second to make sure he really meant it.  She chews on the inside of her cheek for an anxious beat before she opens her mouth again.

“What if I waste my time and never meet anyone that wants the things that I want and then I’ll be alone and it will all have been for… nothing…?” 

He smiles, but there’s a bittersweetness to it.  (y/n) seals her lips shut as she waits for his response.  She fears she’s embarrassed herself enough for one night, now it was his turn.

“You’re not wasting your time,” Choso starts slowly.  “You’re just… figuring out what you don’t want.  That’s just as important, don’t you think?”

A smile begins to crack in her features, and he feels relief to know that he’s at least sort of helping.

“Well, then so far we’ve crossed boring, creep, and loser off the list” She grumbles, and Choso chuckles to himself.

“Where does a girl like you find these losers?” 

He’d gotten too comfortable too fast and he realizes it as soon as her eyes widen up at him, not too much, but enough that he notices, and he knows that she’s caught the choice words of his loose lips.  A slight smile pulls on her parted lips as she thinks through just how she wants to call him out on it, but for right now, she relishes in the way his cheeks flush and his own eyes widen in panic.

“A girl like me, huh?” She teases, her soft smile turning into a full blown grin.  “And what do you mean by that, Choso?”

Again, he thinks she must know what she’s doing when his name drips from her voice like sweet honey.  Nothing else has ever weakened his insides quite like it.

“You know what I mean,” He tries to play it off casually, but her eyes narrow on him in disbelief.  “You’re super nice, and… easy to talk to” 

“Oh, right, I forget that super nice gets you everywhere” She exaggerates.

“You don’t need me to stand here and tell you you’re a catch, (y/n),” Choso sighs, and the playful crinkle in her nose dissipates, the rest of her features softening along with it.  “You have to know that” 

It’s quiet for a moment, and she’s staring at him with what he worries is disbelief.  Was she not taking him seriously? Did she think he was only joking? Well that simply wouldn’t do, he couldn’t possibly leave her apartment now until he was sure she knew just how wrong she was.

So he ignores the nerves prickling his skin warning him not to cross too many lines at once and he speaks up again.

“C’mon, I mean, obvious stuff aside, anyone would be lucky to score a date with you.  You’re excellent company, I mean, you don’t know how often I lose time when I’m talking with you.  It’s never a dull moment, even when it’s quiet, and I think that’s just about the most important quality in a person, don’t you?” It’s a rhetorical question, but even if she wanted to answer, Choso gives her no time to do so.  “You’re funny, in the witty way that I can’t keep up with and in the silly way that Yuji’s so taken with.  You’re patient, and generous, and kind,”

Her lips part, but there’s nothing she could possibly say to him right now.  Her mind has been wiped blank.  All that she can hear now are the words he’s saying, and she’s not even sure that this isn’t all a dream at this moment and she’s not about to wake up in her bed with a funny feeling.  Her heart was beating so hard she feared it would leap right out of her chest and she’s helpless to stop it.  Nonetheless, she wants nothing more than for him to keep going.

“You’re smart, and capable of anything, and you’re not afraid of chasing the things you want,” Choso goes on, and he doesn’t stutter once.  Every word is spoken with precision, as though rehearsed.  Or maybe it just came to him that naturally.  “Yuji loves you and that’s all the more I could ever want.  You’re the first person he’s really attached himself to, you know.  He never… he never really cared for anyone the way he cares about you,” 

Tears have started to well up in her eyes, but it’s still not enough to stop the seamless train of thought he’s spewing out.  If he notices this, he doesn’t comment on it.  He just keeps going.

“But it’s clear that he loves you and it’s clear as day why.  Anyone with eyes and an ounce of a brain would feel the same.  And they should.  And it’s really a pity that so far no one’s managed to behave the way you deserve, and treat you the way you deserve” 

She thinks he’s finished, only because he’s paused long enough and he’s staring at her now as if everything he’d just said was now being displayed on a teleprompter before him.  At first, all she can manage is a small gasp to clear the lump in her throat.

“You-” She starts, but her voice fails her and she has to shake her head to convince herself to ignore her nerves.  “You really mean all of that?” 

It’s a whisper so soft that even a creak in the floorboards would have overpowered her voice.  But the apartment is dead silent.  All she can do is stand frozen in place as she watches him and waits for his answer, for the confirmation that he really had just said the kindest, most beautiful things anyone has ever said to her, seemingly out of nowhere.

During his pause, she steps closer, glossy eyes remaining focused on him, as if a single blink could cause her to miss his next words.  There had been few moments in her life that she’d felt worried over missing- but right now if you’d asked her to name them she would probably come up short.

“I… don’t say things I don’t mean,” He tells her in a moment of unfiltered honesty- which he was on a streak with tonight.  

(y/n) gives him a faint nod in return as she tries to blink away the wetness in her eyes.  There wasn’t a chance she’d let herself cry in front of him right now- not at one in the morning after he already had to rescue her from a dead end date.

For all of his forwardness, Choso’s throat has gone so dry he knows that his next words will come out in a strained out scratch.  He feels like there’s a spotlight on him, even though the lighting in her apartment is so dim there’s shadows casted over the expanse of her left cheek.  It paints her into a silhouette that he believes could be hung in every museum.  When he tries to take a gulp to ease the dryness of his throat, it’s faintly audible.

A quiet sound of amusement breezes past her lips before they quirk up into a smile so gentle Choso swears only a soft stroke of a paintbrush could capture it in it’s full essence.  He might just have to pick up the hobby of painting if he wishes to fully preserve this image.  Honesty strikes him again in his moment of inspiration.

“(y/n) you should know that I’m starting to have feelings for you,” 

It’s a murmured confession, spoken so genuinely from the bottom of his heart that (y/n) can feel them filling her own heart with a gooey warmth.

“Well, not starting, I- I’ve known about it for a while, actually,” 

He seems to stammer and partially mumble over his words as soon as he’d started to speak with certainty, but it doesn’t make them any less true.  (y/n) knows this, and he can tell in the way her eyes seem to hold stars as she stares at him with pure marvel.  It makes him concerned that she’s never heard these things before.

“But, y’know, I didn’t want to say anything because of how much Yuuji adored you and I didn’t want to do anything to disrupt that,” 

Before he knows it, Choso’s rambling, but (y/n’s) patient and takes in everything he has to say.  She’s never seen him unload so many thoughts like this, and even with her heart on the brink of beating out of her chest, she takes in everything he has to say.

“In the past he’s sort of just shut down around anyone I’ve gone out with, or tried to, at least.  It’s just not like him, to be quiet, or shy.  I hated seeing him like that.  I don’t know what it was, why he never got comfortable around anyone, and I didn’t know if it would always be like that…” 

Choso trails off for a moment, starting to realize just how much oversharing he was doing tonight.  Maybe it was the late hour, or maybe it was that look she’d held in her eyes all night, like she was holding something back as well, but whatever finally pushed him over the edge to spill his every hidden thought was a driving force so strong nothing could have prevented it now.

“But then he found you and he was just… taken,” A quiet laugh falls from his lips as he thinks fondly about the adoration his little brother holds for her.  Sheepishly, he finishes his train of thought.  “And I guess that rubbed off on me, too” 

Her lips are wobbly at first as they form a wider smile, and then she’s making a short shuffle forward, putting them both toe to toe.

“You didn’t want to tell me you had feelings for me because you thought Yuuji would be upset?” She asks him, like maybe she’s not sure she understood him right.  Choso seals his lips together as he gives a faint nod in return.  Her head tilts to the side, her round eyes narrowing as an aura of curiosity settling over her as she gazes up at him.  “And you think I’m a catch?” She repeats his earlier statement, and lets out a breathless and short laugh when she watches color flush his face.  “So… what’s so different now that you decided to tell me?” 

Her fingers latch around the hem of the shirt she’s wearing, twisting at the material in short nervous movements.  However the clear sign of nervousness is easy to overlook when she’s staring at him so intensely.  His sincerity tonight had been a blessing that she was going to milk for all it’s worth.  Once she got a taste for how deeply Choso felt his feelings, she just had to know more, even if it meant pushing him to share more.  Although she hoped her eagerness wouldn’t drive him out of her home, she hoped he’d stay until she got her fill of all of his thoughts.

“I don’t know,” He sighs, and his shoulders fall slightly as he visibly relaxes.  It makes her wonder if he’d been tense this whole time, if she’d put him on edge by standing there while he made confession after confession.  The thought makes her swoon just a little bit harder- if possible.  “I guess… I just couldn’t hold it in anymore,” 

Her brows cinch together as her expression morphs, into something he worries is pity, so he frowns.

“I did try, just for the record” He tells her suddenly.  The change in tone makes her chuckle in her confusion.

“Tried what?” 

“Tried telling you,” Choso clarifies, “Months ago” 

“What?” She shakes her head in disbelief, a slight frown tugging on her lips as she tries to recall when he was referring to.  Surely she’d remember an attempt of him asking her out, or telling her about his feelings.  Yet nothing comes to mind.  “You did no such thing” 

“I did,” He insists, laughing humorlessly, but the sound lightens the mood between them and (y/n) finds herself laughing along with him.  Although hers holds more amusement than his had.  “And then you put me in the friend-zone.  Or neighbor-zone.  Or Yuji’s brother-zone” 

“I absolutely did not!” Her voice cracks as it raises to it’s usual volume, the soft whispers of earlier long gone as another laugh rips out of her chest at his insinuation.  “Don’t tell me you actually thought that” 

The seriousness in her voice has his heart strings tightening to their fullest extent, straining and quivering on the brink of snapping completely.  At this point, Choso thinks that she’s well aware of the emotional warfare she’s using against him, but then he catches that glossy look she still held in her eyes and he thinks she’s just as weakened by her own ardency as he was by his.

“Trust me, had I known different, things would be different” He says, raising a hand to drag a finger in the space between them to make the context clear.

Soft surprise adorns her face as he’s the first to surrender in their game of dancing around it, and it’s quiet for a few beats as she waits for her heart to calm down enough where she can speak without a tremble in her words.

“I’m telling you different right now, aren’t I?” 

The silence of her apartment is deafening.  Seconds pass like years as he stares back at her, his eyes shifting between hers as quickly as they possibly could, a sudden desperation in being able to read her expression clear on him.  Patience was just a part of Choso’s nature- it had to be when he alone was raising a five year old like Yuji- but any thought of moving slowly was thrown out the window as soon as he was finally sure of that look in her eyes.

“I want to kiss you,” 

He moves forward then, his hands moving as fast as his words as they land on her jaw, and despite their swiftness his touch is gentle.  They cup under her face with thoughtful softness, and as soon as he’s touching her, his patience is restored.  Suddenly he has all the time in the world, and he lets his gaze slowly trace over every little feature of her face until he’s sure he’s memorized every last inch.  (y/n’s) expectant before him, her lashes fluttering as her eyes shift repeatedly between his lips and his own gaze.  He wasn’t taking the hint, and unfortunately, her voice was caught in her throat.  She’d seemed to have lost it as soon as the rough pad of his thumb began to trace the length of her jaw to her chin.

After taking his sweet time, he pushes closer, tilting her chin upwards so that his nose could just barely graze past hers.

“Can I kiss you?” 

The murmured request is so close to her own lips she can practically feel them moving against her own.  Her nod of approval isn’t complete before the minimal space left between them is finally closed, and warm lips press against her own with the same gentleness of his hands.

She returns the softness at first, moving her lips against his with an experimental curiosity, but it’s not long before she can stop herself from reaching out to him.  His bare chest is warm under her palms, and at first contact all she does is press her hands against it, fingers splayed out to feel every warm inch of skin that she can.  Choso’s fingers flex and tense against her jaw upon the sensation that he hadn’t felt in so long it was almost unfamiliar.

But her touch was unlike anything he’d ever felt before.  The pads of her fingers were soft as they moved across his skin, slow but sure as they mapped over his chest and around his shoulders, yet the light graze of her nails was just enough sharpness to leave goosebumps in the wake of her path.  Even when a sigh is shuddered out of him, she doesn’t part from their kiss.

Choso can’t help but slide a large hand around the back of her neck, keeping her close to him even as they both begin to gasp for air between kisses.  The soft newness of it all is quickly replaced by a hot need to not stop.  It’s evident in the way their touches begin to lose shyness, and soon their grabbing and pulling at one another as their kisses grow messy and uncoordinated.

She presses as close to him as she can get, even with her own body heat reaching uncomfortable peaks, she still desired to feel his warmth.  More than that, though, she wanted to card her hands through his hair- and she did just that.  She’s rewarded with a soft whimper against her lips when her fingers dive into the roots and tug just a little bit before combing through the rest of it.

When she moves to do it again, a pair of hands seize her hips, and their lips are properly parted for the first time since he’d first kissed her as he lifts her up with ease, turning to drop her onto her kitchen counter before pressing close to catch her lips with his again.  She’s rendered breathless from the movement- after already trying to catch up in her breathing during their sudden makeout session- but there’s not an ounce of protest in her when Choso pulls her knees apart in order to slot himself between her legs and continue where they left off.

Her arms wind around his neck as she pulls him down the short distance to kiss him properly.  The height difference between them now isn’t nearly as drastic as when she was standing, but it’s still noticeable even as she’s perched on the counter.

Her heaving chest only becomes noticeable to Choso once his hands are making their way from her thighs towards her ribs, where he feels them expanding and contracting at an alarming rate.  He lets out a chuckle and breaks apart from her, his amusement only furthered when her lips chase after his, despite her panting for air.

“(y/n), sweetheart,” He murmurs affectionately as he catches her chin between his thumb and forefinger to halt her from kissing him again.  When her eyes open to meet his, her eyelids hang heavy over her dilated pupils, and Choso’s so struck with awe at her beauty in this moment he’d nearly forgotten why he’d stopped kissing her in the first place.  “Want you to catch your breath” He mumbles, the pad of his thumb reaching up to drag over the swollen plushness of her bottom lip.

Somehow, they look even more kissable than before.  Especially paired with her flushed cheeks and the dreamy look in her eyes as she peers up at him through her heavy and fluttering eyelashes.

She leans forward, but she doesn’t try to kiss him again.  She’s just filled with such a strong desire to stay close to him that she couldn’t bear to be the few inches apart that he’d distanced them with.  He smiles softly at her as her hand begins to sweetly comb through his hair.  It’s not the same motion as before, it holds a different feeling in the way she moves slowly, and with no grip at all, and yet his chest is filled with the same overwhelming adoration as when she’d had her hands fisted in it.  He decides to let his hair hang loose more often from here on out.

“I can’t stay,” He murmurs after a long but comfortable silence between them.  “Yuji…” He trails off, but she gets the idea, and nods back at him.

“I understand,” She whispers back, followed by a bittersweet smile.  “It’s alright…” 

“He’s staying at Megumi’s this weekend, though,” He mentions, his eyes following the movement of his thumb as it grazes over her lip, enamored with the way the plushness of it gave in even under his gentle touch.  “We’ll go on a proper date then, hm?” He offers with a hopeful look.

“Sure,” (y/n) smiles, and then playfully purses her lips to peck a light kiss against his thumb.  “Or you could just come over for tea again,” She suggests instead, followed by a short giggle.

His cheeks and neck flush with a rosy hue, but he nods back at her in agreement.  

It was a date.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

“So, does this mean you’ll get married?” 

Yuji’s blunt question has Choso choking on his drink.  Burying her face in his shoulder, (y/n) tries to suppress her laughter, but it’s obvious in the way she snorts and her shoulders shake.  Meanwhile, Yuji’s still sat on the floor in front of them, half watching the movie that’s playing and half checking on the two of them as he awaits an answer.

After a few weeks of going out and ensuring one another that their change in relationship was working, more than working, Choso and (y/n) thought it was the proper time to break the news to the little boy.  It wasn’t much of a surprise when he was excited to hear it, but the first question that came to his mind wasn’t as expected.

“Well, maybe, buddy, let’s just cross that bridge when we get there, yeah?” (y/n) answers him with a kind smile, even though the idea of marriage so early in their relationship as her face burning and her heart beating wildly in her chest.

“Okay” Yuji accepts the answer and goes back to watching the movie for a bit.

Choso finally clears his throat and settles back into his comfortable position on the couch, (y/n) still tucked under his arm and pressed into his side in just the way he liked, and after a few minutes of mentally calming himself down he really did relax again.

“We’ll still live together and get a dog though, right, Choso-nii?” 

(y/n) could feel every muscle in his body tense, but she still can’t help but look over at him with a questioning raise in her brow and a purse in her lips as she smiled.

“You told him we were getting a dog?” She hums curiously, waiting for his explanation of his little brother’s question.

A nervous, breathless laugh falls from his lips.

“You’re only focused on the dog part?” He asks, wondering what her thoughts were on the living together part.  (y/n) hums, and shrugs a shoulder before she leans into him again, her focus on the movie as she settles against his shoulder comfortably.

“Well, I’m more of a cat person,” She replies, knowing fully well that wasn’t what he was implying.  “Then again, a house vote would be fair” 

Yuji seems enthusiastic about this compromise, and doesn’t seem to have any more questions for his big brother and his new girlfriend as he completely immersed himself in the movie once more.

With the arm he had wrapped around her, Choso tugs (y/n) a little bit closer, until he’s able to drop a kiss on the top of her head, before he leans into her as well and a comfortable silence settles over the room as they all grow sleepy watching a film together.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

[ hold me, love me, touch me, honey // be the first who ever did ] 

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

xoxo ~ jordie

#kamo choso #kamo choso x reader #choso x reader #kamo choso imagine #choso kamo imagine #choso kamo x reader #jjk choso #jjk choso x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen choso #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk imagine #jujustu kaisen imagine #jjk self insert

[wilwheaton]

When you watch The Curse, you are watching two children who were abused and exploited daily during production. No adults protected us.

This was originally published on my blog in August, 2022.

I had a wonderful time at Steel City Comicon this weekend. It was my first time at this particular con, so I didn’t know there was such a huge contingent of horror fans, creators, and vendors who attend.

I love horror, and I was pretty psyched to be in the same place as John Carpenter and Tom Savini, across the street from the Dawn of the Dead mall. Pittsburgh feels like one of the places horror was invented, at least to me.

A number of these horror fans came to see me, and asked me to sign posters and other things from a movie my parents forced me to do when I was 13, called The Curse. I had to tell each of these people that I would not sign anything associated with that movie, because I was abused and exploited during production. The time I spent on that film remains the most traumatizing time of my life, and though I am a 50 year-old man, just typing this now makes my hands shake with remembered fear of a 13 year-old boy who nobody protected, and the absolute fury the 50 year-old man feels toward the people who hurt him.

I told this story in Still Just A Geek, and I’ve talked about it in some podcasts I did on the promo tour, but I’ve never put it out in public like this, in its entirety.

I suspect someone at the publisher would prefer I tease this and hope it drives book sales from people who want to read all of it, but I honestly don’t want to have another weekend like this one where everything is awesome, except the few times people who have no idea (and why should they) put that fucking poster in front of me, and all the fear, abandonment, and trauma come flooding back as I tell them that I won’t sign it, and why.

To their credit, each person was as horrified as they should have been, told me they had no idea (if they didn’t read my book why would they), and quickly put the poster away. They were all understanding. I am grateful for that.

But I really don’t need to tell this story over and over again, so here it is, with a child abuse and exploitation content warning, so I can just tell people to Google it.

After Stand by Me, everything changed. The attention from entertainment journalists, casting directors, and especially teen magazines came pouring in. The movie was a generational hit, beloved by critics and audiences alike, and every single one of us could pick anything to do next.

River’s parents and his agent got him Mosquito Coast, with Harrison Ford, as his next movie. I also auditioned for the role, but I knew even then that River was going to book the job. He was perfect, and I’d have to wait a little bit for my opportunity to come along.

I went on a lot of theatrical auditions after Stand by Me. I had tons of meetings with directors and the heads of casting at every major studio. It was all a very big deal, and I felt like we were all looking for something really special and amazing as my follow-up to Stand by Me.

At some point, a couple of producers contacted my agent with an offer to play one of the leads in an adaptation of H. P. Lovecraft’s “The Colour Out of Space.” The script was titled The Farm. (It would, of course, be changed when the film was released).

I read it. I did not like it. It was a shitty horror movie, and I saw that right away. It was the sort of thing you rented on Friday when the new release you wanted was already out of the store.

My mother, already an incredibly manipulative person, used every tool at her disposal to change my mind. My father threatened me, mocked me, told me “It’s your decision” when it clearly wasn’t. It was all so weird; I didn’t understand why they cared so much.

I told my parents I didn’t like it and didn’t want to do it. I clearly recall thinking it was a piece of shit that would hurt my career.

It wasn’t the first thing that had come our way that I wanted to pass on, and every other time, it hadn’t been a very big deal.

Sidebar: I was cast in Twilight Zone: The Movie, in 1983. The film tells four stories, and I was cast as the kid who can wish people into cartoonland. It was a GREAT role, in a movie I still love. (Note that Twilight Zone had four directors. One of them got three people killed. The segment I was cast in was not that one. I mention this because too many people zero in on this to deflect from what this whole thing is actually about.)

But I was CONVINCED by my parochial school teacher that if I worked on The Twilight Zone, which she had determined was satanic, I would go to hell. (This woman and her bullshit played a big role in my conversion to atheism at a young age, but when she told me that, I was all-in on the supernatural story they taught us in religion class.) I was so scared, more scared than I’d ever been to that point in my life, I cried and wailed and begged my parents to not make me do the movie. And I never told them why, because I was afraid my dad would laugh at me for being weak and afraid. My agent tried to talk me into it, and I wouldn’t budge. It’s the only thing I deeply and truly regret passing on, and I really hate I made that choice for such a stupid reason.

Okay. Back to The Curse.

This time, when I told them how much I hated it, they wouldn’t listen to me. My mother, already an incredibly manipulative person, used every tool at her disposal to change my mind. My father threatened me, mocked me, told me “It’s your decision” when it clearly wasn’t. It was all so weird; I didn’t understand why they cared so much.

That is, until they made me take a meeting with the producers of the movie, in their giant conference room on the top floor of a tall building in Hollywood. All I remember about this place was that it was huge; the table was way too big for the five of us who spread around it, and there were floor-to-ceiling windows on three of the walls, but the room was still dark. There was a weird optical illusion in the center of the table, this thing they sold in the Sharper Image catalog, made from two reflective dishes with a hole in the top of one. You placed an object in the bottom of the bottom dish, and it made it look like that object was floating above the whole thing. They had a plastic spider in it. What a strange detail for me to remember, but it’s as clear in my memory as if I were sitting in that room right now.

One man, who I presumed was the executive producer, was European or Middle Eastern (I didn’t know the difference then, he was just Not Like People I Knew), and I was instantly afraid of him. He was intimidating, and seemed like a person who got what he wanted.

So we sat there, my father who didn’t give a shit about me, my mother who was cosplaying as someone with experience, and me, thirteen years old, awkward as fuck, and scared to death.

I don’t remember what they said to me in their pitch or anything other than how uncomfortable and anxious I was to even be in that room. I tried so hard to be grown up and mature, but I — and my parents — was way out of my depth. I’d done one big movie and that was it. We didn’t have my agent with us, who had lots of experience and would have known what questions to ask.

No, in place of my experienced agent, my mother had decided she was going to be my manager, and she tackled the responsibility with an enthusiasm that was only matched by her absolute incompetence and inability to go toe-to-toe with producers the way my agent did. She was outwitted, out-thought, and outmaneuvered at every turn.

“You don’t have a choice,” my father commanded. “You are doing this movie.”

So we sat there, my father who didn’t give a shit about me, my mother who was cosplaying as someone with experience, and me, thirteen years old, awkward as fuck, and scared to death.

At some point, this man, who is represented in my memory by big Jim Jones sunglasses under dark hair above an open collar, said, “We are offering you a hundred thousand dollars and round-trip travel for your whole family. We will cast your sister, Amy, to play your sister in the movie.”

It all made sense, now. I was only thirteen, but I knew my parents were pushing me so hard because this company was offering me — them, really — more money than I’d ever imagined I’d earn in my life, much less a single job.

I knew that the right thing to do, the smart thing to do, was to say no. There would be other opportunities, and it was stupid to cash myself out of feature films for what I thought was, in the grand scheme of things, not very much money.

It’s incredible to me that I knew all of this. It’s incredible to me that I could see all these things, plainly and clearly, and my parents couldn’t (or, more likely, chose not to).

So after this man made his offer, all the adults in the room ganged up on me, selling me HARD on this movie.

My mother said, “Don’t you want your sister to have the same opportunities you’ve had? Wouldn’t it be fun and exciting to go to Rome? Think of all the history!”

The experience was awful. It was the worst experience I have ever had on a set in my life, by every single metric. The movie is awful, and it is the embarrassment I knew it would be.

I don’t think about this very often, because it’s super upsetting to me. Right now, I’m so angry at my parents for subjecting me and my sister to this entire experience. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

In that moment, I felt bullied and trapped. All these adults were talking to me at the same time, and I just wanted it to stop. I just wanted to go home and get out of this room. I just wanted to go be a kid, so I did what I’d learned to do to survive: I gave in and did what my parents wanted.

The experience was awful. It was the worst experience I have ever had on a set in my life, by every single metric. The movie is awful, and it is the embarrassment I knew it would be.

But here’s the thing: when you watch The Curse, you are watching two children, me and my sister, who were abused on a daily basis. The production did not follow a single labor law. They worked us for twelve hours a day, on multiple film units (while I work on First unit, second unit sets up and waits for me. When I should get a break to rest, they send me to Second unit, then to Third unit, then back to First unit. I was 13.) without any breaks, five days a week. I was exhausted the entire time. I was inappropriately touched by two different adults during production. I knew it was wrong, but I was so scared and ashamed, and I felt so unsupported, I didn’t tell anyone. I knew my dad wouldn’t believe me, and my mother would blame me. Anything to keep the production happy, that’s what she did. That was more important to her than the health and safety of her children. The director was coked out of his mind most of the time, incompetent, and so busy fucking or trying to fuck one of the women in the cast, he was worse than useless. He was a fading actor who was cosplaying as a director, as in over his head as my mother. My sister and I were never safe. Instead of harmless atmospheric SFX smoke, they set hay on fire in barrels and blew actual smoke onto the set. They took buckets of talc, broken wood, bits of wallpaper and plaster, and threw it into my face during a scene inside the collapsing house. My sister is in a scene where she goes to get eggs from some chickens, and they attack her. So they hired Lucio Fulci, the Italian horror master, to direct her sequence. His idea, which everyone was totally on board with, was to throw chickens at my sister. Live chickens, live roosters, live birds. Just throw them at a nine-year-old girl. Oh, and then tie them to her arms and legs so they’ll peck her. All of this happened under my mother’s observation, and with her full participation.

Everything I need to know about who my parents are is wrapped up in that experience: the total lack of concern for my safety and happiness, treating me like an asset instead of a son, lying to me, manipulating me, and using me to get things they wanted, and then gaslighting me about it.

If just ONE of the things I can remember happened to someone I loved, I would have grabbed my kids, gone to the airport, and flown home. Fuck those abusive assholes in the production. Let the lawyers sort it all out. Nobody hurts my children and gets away with it.

My mom says she “had some talks” with the producers. She claims that, once, she wouldn’t let us leave the hotel. (God, what a fucking dump that place was. It was just slightly better than a hostel.) I have no memory of that, but honestly the entire experience was so traumatic, I’ve blocked most of it out.

The movie was the commercial and critical failure I knew it would be. My parents spent the money. I don’t know what they spent it on. I got to keep fifteen cents of every dollar, so . . . yay?

My sister and I hardly ever talk about this. I suspect it was as upsetting and traumatic for her as it was for me. I told her I was writing about it, and asked her if she remembered anything. She told me she’d been lied to her whole life about this movie. Our mother let her believe she had been cast on the strength of her audition. “I was excited to work with you,” she said. She reminded me about some stuff I’d blocked out, including a scene where my character’s older brother (played by an actor named Malcolm Danare, who was kind and gentle, and made both of us feel safer when he was around) shoves my character into a pile of cow shit. When it came time to shoot the scene, the mud they’d put together to be the cow shit looked an awful lot like cow shit. When Malcolm pushed me into it, we all found out it was real cow shit. I was FURIOUS. The director had lied to me and had allowed me to have my entire body shoved into an actual pile of actual cow shit. I don’t remember what I said, but I remember he treated me the exact same way my father did whenever I got upset: he laughed at me, told me I was being too sensitive, reminded me that he was the director and he wanted to get a “real” performance out of me, and concluded, “If it bothers you so much, we’ll get you a hepatitis shot,” before he walked away.

My sister also recalled that, after she survived the scene with the chickens, it was the producers’ idea to give her one as a pet.

Okay, let’s unpack that for a quick second: you’ve been traumatized by these birds, so we’re going to give you one as a pet. That you’ll somehow keep in your hotel, and then will somehow get back to America. It will shock you to learn that neither of those things happened.

She remembered, as I do, the huge fight I had with my parents in our kitchen, where I told them I hated the script and I hated the movie. I didn’t want to do it, and I hated that they were making me do it.

“You don’t have a choice,” my father commanded. “You are doing this movie.”

“This is the only film you are being offered,” my mother lied to me. She made me feel like, if I didn’t do this movie, I would never do another movie again in my life. I had to do this movie. As my father bellowed, I had no choice.

Both of my parents denied this argument ever happened. Can I tell you how reassuring it is to know that my sister, who was also there, remembers it the same way I do?

The makeup department decided they would literally cut my little sister’s face with a scalpel, in three places, and put bandages over them.

But one thing she told me, the thing I did not know, the thing that makes me so angry I want to break things, actually managed to make the entire experience even worse than I remembered it.

There’s a scene after her chicken incident where I check up on her in her bedroom. She’s got cuts and bruises, and I guess we talk about it. I don’t remember and I can’t watch the movie because I’m terrified it will give me a PTSD flashback (I’ve had one of those and I recommend avoiding it). Here’s the thing about that scene: she has some cuts on her face, and those cuts are real. They are not makeup.

I’m going to repeat that. My nine-year-old little sister had actual cuts on her face that were placed there by an adult, on purpose.

The makeup department decided they would literally cut my little sister’s face with a scalpel, in three places, and put bandages over them. My sister told me our mother wasn’t in the makeup room when this happened — honestly, it seemed like our mother was strangely and conveniently absent when most of the really terrible things happened to us on the set — and when my sister told her what they’d done, she “lost her shit” at the production. She was pissed, I guess, which is appropriate and surprising. I wonder what would have to have happened for her to put us on a plane and get us home to safety? I mean, her son being abused daily didn’t do it, and her daughter being CUT IN THE FACE ON PURPOSE didn’t do it.

I just . . . I can’t. I can’t understand or comprehend allowing your own children to be physically and emotionally abused. They were literally selling my sister and me to these people, like we were some kind of commodity.

This was a tough conversation. My sister’s experience with our parents is very different from mine. My sister and I love each other. We’re close. I know it’s hard for her to hear that her brother, who she loves, was so abused by her parents, who she also loves. I was really grateful she made the time to talk to me about it, and grateful the experience wasn’t as horrible for her as it was for me.

As we were finishing our call, Amy also remembered one man, a young Italian named Luka, who was our driver for the movie. I haven’t thought about him in thirty years, but I can see his face now. He was kind, he was friendly, he taught us how to kick a soccer ball, and in the middle of an abusive, torturous experience, he stood out as a kind and gentle man. I mention him because she remembered him, which made me remember him, and goddammit I want at least one small part of this thing to not be awful.

The Curse remains one of the most consequential times the adults in my life failed to protect me. I’m 50. I still have nightmares.

Ultimately, as I predicted and feared, this piece of shit movie cashed me out of respectable films forever. I got offers for movies, but they were always mindless comedies or exploitative horror films. They were never the serious dramas I wanted to work in after Stand by Me. The industry looked at me and River, wondering if one or both of us would become a breakout star. They quickly saw that River was doing real acting work, and I was in this piece of shit. For River, Stand by Me was a beginning. For me, it would turn out to be pretty much everything, at least as far as film goes.

There are thousands of reasons film careers do and don’t take off. Maybe mine wouldn’t have taken off anyway. Clearly, it’s not where my life ended up, and I’m super okay with that now. But when all of this happened, it hurt and haunted me.

The Curse remains one of the most consequential times the adults in my life failed to protect me. I’m 50. I still have nightmares. Everything I need to know about who my parents are is wrapped up in that experience: the total lack of concern for my safety and happiness, treating me like an asset instead of a son, lying to me, manipulating me, and using me to get things they wanted, and then gaslighting me about it.

This annotation is the last thing I wrote before I turned this manuscript in, because opening these wounds is hard and painful. I put it off as long as I could, and I feel like I’m still holding back, because just this small glimpse of the experience has taken me a week to write. I can’t imagine trying to go back and unpack the whole thing. (Note that is not in the book: I’ve made an EMDR appointment to work on this because the nightmares have come back after the weekend).

Fuck The Curse, and fuck every single person who exploited and hurt two beautiful children to make it. You all participated in child abuse, and you all knew better. Shame on all of you. I hope this follows you to the end of your life. I hope that living with what you did to innocent children has been as hard for you as it has been for me, because you deserve no less.

#tw abuse #tw child abuse #tw exploitation #child actor #still just a geek #lucio fulci #trauma survivor #speaking up for the child who was silenced by his abusers

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Can I have Yandere Malleus, Jamil, Floyd and Leona with a fem reader whose kid brother transported along with them to twisted wonderland? MC’s little brother is a bratty bully that she’s protective of because she had to act like a mother to him since they don’t have any parents. Her little brother can be very protective of his big sister and constantly antagonises the yanderes any chance he gets and when the time comes for them to kidnap MC, her little brother would do anything to stop them.

Kid Brother | Yandere Twisted Wonderland

Similar to Spirit your brother is the deterrent for your obsessive suitors. But rather than protecting you through strength and perception, your baby brother’s aim is in his pull over his beloved older sibling. As the eldest sibling its natural you be as attentive as possible; its a given those interested will be less than stellar about it:

Malleus Draconia 

“Aw sorry Malleus, his stomach is hurting. No doubt he’s probably just got to go to the bathroom but just in case.”

“Perhaps Lilia can care for him? He has plenty of experience with children.”

“Noooo I want (YYYYYY/nnnn)!”

He doesn’t suspect much 

Not until a blatant attempt to propose to you is flubbed by your brother’s interjection

Than he’s alerted 

And he’s mad

He’ll need Lilia and Silver to bring him down from striking a child with magical lightning

In the end he’ll cope with it like its your child his child

“I see. The young one needs correcting and in honor of my love for (Y/n), I’ll be sure to…reprimand him properly.”

Jamil Viper  

“(Y/n)!!! He’s scary! Let’s go home!”

“...Fat chance. ~Tell the truth.~”

“I just want (Y/n) to take me away from you because you threatened to cook me.”

“...”

“...It…was a badly timed joke.”

Hypnotising children is usually easy

But your brother is such a snot nose it might backfire

But Jamil is slick and he doesn’t have morals 

So if given the chance to punt the little thorn in his side 

He will take it

‘Jokes’ aside he’s going to most likely shove him off towards the one person that can keep up with him 

“How about you and Kalim go on a magic carpet ride? Yeah that’ll keep you busy, right?”

Floyd Leech 

“Stay away from (Y/n) or ’ll beat you up!”

“Oh yeah?”

“...Yeah.”

“Yeah?”

Floyd is usually good with kids

Usually he’s able to get on their wavelength and have a good time 

But when he’s not doing that he’s used to making adults wet their pants

And he’s most likely going to do that

He can worry about being friendly with your kid after he’s shown them who’s really protecting you

“Oi oi why don’t we…work together. Shrimpy’ll like that, right?”

Leona Kingscholar

“Grrr. Back off kit we’re talking.”

“LAlalala (Y/n)! (Y/n)! (Y/n)! (Y/n)! I’m hungry.”

“I’ve got a knuckle sandwich for ya then.”

“Leona!” 

He should probably remind you what male lions do when they establish their rule over a pride

He doesn’t bother arguing with the rat because he’s too stupid to get it

But you’re not 

And unless you don’t want to be a single sibling 

You’ll tell him to shape up

“Ah (Y/n) does the rat really want to bother us now?”

#yandere twisted wonderland x reader #yandere x reader #yandere x you #lovelyyandereaddictionpoint #yanderexrea #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twst #yanderes #yandere #yandere malleus draconia #yandere malleus x reader #yandere malleus twst #yandere malleus #yandere jamil viper #yandere jamil x reader #yandere jamil viper x reader #yandere leona twst #yandere leona kingscholar #yandere leona x reader #yandere leona kingscholar x reader #yandere leona #yandere floyd leech #yandere floyd x reader #yandere harem #yandere floyd

[i-drop-level-one-loot]

Merry Christmas

Christmas 2023 (Krampus x GN!Reader)

Chains and Whips

CW: Non-con, dub-con, bondage, anal, sadism, monster fucking, mild brat training, bratty reader, pain play, breaking and entering

"So... He's, like, a demon?" (Reader) took another sip of their cocoa while giving their friend a half jokingly judgemental look, squinting their eyes over their oversized mug. For the holidays (Reader) found themselves with nowhere to go, and ended up traveling with their best friend to her hometown. It was a tiny little place, cute, and very strange. (Reader) had, of course, heard about Krampus before but only because of B-rated horror movies, so seeing an entire village of people hanging up pictures of him alongside Santa Claus was a culture shock, to say the least. Stranger than the abundant Krampus merch was the fact that everyone spoke of it with respect, as though the creature was real, a respect not given to Santa.

"Well, no, kinda, but no." Johanna flicked her wrist as she spoke, eyes glazed and unfocused in the warmth of the heated living room. "Krampus is older than Saint Nicholas and Christianity."

It was difficult to stay awake, all bundled up under a mountain of blankets while the TV quietly played a movie in the background. Snow was falling outside, while children played in the setting sun, laughing outside Johanna's window.

"So, does he kidnap naughty children?"

"No, he beats them with a stick." She tiredly waved her hand in a whipping motion to illustrate her point, as though (Reader) didn't know what she meant by "beating".

"That sounds horrifying." (Reader) smiled, chuckling. Their eyelids were beginning to glue themselves shut.

"Yeah. During Krampusnacht boys like to dress up as him and try to scare people. I used to be terrified of him." Johanna rolled over and propped herself up, resting her head on her hand while sprawling out further on the warm couch across (Reader) on the adjacent lounge. "Thank God I was such a good kid!" She said cheekily.

(Reader's) grin grew. "Should I be in trouble then?"

"Why?"

"Because I'm naughty." (Reader) joked, wiggling their shoulders comically.

The young woman sat up. Her face had flipped instantly from silly to frustrated, swapping from a sleepy gaze for furrowed brows. "That's not funny, (Reader)."

Shocked by Johanna's sudden seriousness, (Reader) sat up as well, doubling down on the joke. "Should probably lock your door tonight, to keep me safe."

"Stop!" She whined, looking genuinely nervous.

"What?" (Reader) leaned forward, amused by their friend's reaction. "Are you really scared?"

"Yes!"

"Scared he's going to come punish me?"

Johanna rolled her eyes. "Krampus is real."

(Reader) wanted to push their friend a little further. This was the first time they had ever seen Johanna act in such a way. Johanna was a fearless woman, a badass who was a regular ole adrenaline junkie; the kind of person to jump out a plane without hesitation. And here she was, losing her patience over a mythological creature.

The dramatic young adult launched themselves off the couch and towards a window, swaying their hips theatrically. They threw open the window as far as it could go, cupping their mouth to amplify their voice out into the neighborhood, moaning;

"Oh no! I hope some big, hairy, Krampus doesn't come and punish me for being such a naughty little whore!"

"(Reader)!"

"Please, don't come punish me for being such a tight little cum slut!" (Reader) laughed as Johanna grabbed their arm, now giggling as well, albeit more out of nerves than honest joy.

"(Reader), please! I'm serious!" Johanna closed the window, forgetting to lock it as she was too busy looking over her shoulder at her ridiculous friend. "I swear to God, if I have to wake up in the middle of the night to save your life..!"

(Reader) wasn't done being obnoxious, shaking their ass as they pretended to run away in fear. "Oh no! Don't let him spank me! Oh noooo!"

Johanna grabbed a throw pillow and chucked it at (Reader's) head hard enough to make them lose their balance. "You would get fucking wrecked by Krampus."

"Yeah, my ass-"

"Wouldn't even last a second. You would lose a fight against a marshmallow, you aren't going to go up against an ancient being worshipped for centuries."

After falling back onto the couch (Reader) had chosen for their sleeping spot, they rolled their eyes, dropping the act. (Reader) wasn't actually a naughty person. Not only were they not "naughty" in the innocent definition of the word, being the kind of person to return other shoppers' carts they refused to put away themselves, but in the dirty sense they weren't particularly "naughty" either. (Reader) wasn't a virgin, just suffering from a dry spell. "Goodnight, Jojo."

"Goodnight! I set my alarm for five.'

"Ew!"

"I'll see you in the morning!"

"Nooooooo....."

Johanna left (Reader) for her childhood bedroom, leaving (Reader) in the dark living room, not entirely alone.

.........................

(Reader) wasn't asleep for long when the room became too unbearably cold, causing pins and needles in their legs that forced them to stand up. The time on their phone informed (Reader) that it was only one in the morning. They bundled up in the blanket Johanna provided and slipped into the kitchen to make a cup of decaf tea.

'Why's it so cold?' (Reader) shivered violently as they waited for the water to warm up enough for their drink. It was so warm before (Reader) passed out, that if the Christmas lights on the tree weren't still on they would have thought that there was a power outage. The water loudly began to sizzle in the electric kettle, making (Reader) panic, turning it off. They would have felt like shit if they accidentally woke up Johanna. Her grandparents were out of town, opting to go on a cruise during the holidays instead of hanging around in the cold to visit family, which (Reader) respected. They deserved to enjoy their retirement. Although they had never met, the older couple offered (Reader) their room, which (Reader) politely declined. Although (Reader) said that it was to respect their privacy, it was actually because (Reader) just didn't feel comfortable sleeping in someone else's bed.

The mug began to smell like tea instead of hot water as the bag steeped. (Reader) drank quickly, eager to warm up and get back to sleep. They peaked over at the clock on the oven.

1:00

It had taken almost ten minutes to make one cup of tea, but the time was still one am.

(Reader) felt a shiver crawl down their spine.

Before they could wrap their mind around the time, a rough hand with long, sharp nails, clasped over (Reader's) mouth, dragging them off the chair. The mug went flying, shattering against the tile flooring, along with the wooden chair tipping over and loudly clattering.

Despite the struggle and muffled screams, Johanna did not come down to (Reader's) rescue.

The lights that had been strung up on the tree were tied around (Reader's) arms, securing their hands behind their back. (Reader) fell unceremoniously to their knees.

Above them stood a giant shape in the dark. A tattered red cloak, chains and hooks, black fur..

Hooves sunk into the carpet of the living room. Black fur covered the majority of it's exposed body, and the skin that wasn't hairy was a dark grey with black discoloration. Large horns rose from his skull like a crown. His long, almost human face held a twisted smirk, split open just enough to show off his rows of sharp teeth. Within his primate sockets were goat like eyes, yellow and glowing in the dark.

Despite the heat of the bulbs pressed against (Reader's) arms, the terrified person felt colder than before.

Krampus.

He bent down, gently pressing his clawed thumb into (Reader's) mouth, rubbing his bitter tasting finger across their tongue as (Reader) sat shell shocked.

'He's real.'

(Reader) felt as he played with the wet insides of their mouth, only breaking out of their trance when his nail poked the sensitive wall of their inner cheek.

A surprised cry echoed throughout the house, earning a hand grabbing a fistful of (Reader's) hair, yanking their head back warningly. (Reader) bit down on the disgusting tasting hand as harshly as they could, but it only resulted in an amused chuckle. The creature's laugh was deep, rumbling like thunder in his chest.

He released (Reader) and effortlessly pulled his thumb out from their teeth. One of the many chains with hooks was uncoiled from the demon's shoulder and thrown to his cloven feet.

"Hey, wait-!" (Reader) protested as they were lift up and placed on their feet with only one hand. Their pajama bottoms were pulled down around their ankles, taking their underpants with them. "Stop!"

The hook Krampus had prepared was picked back up, the stench of his body becoming overwhelming as he engulfed (Reader) in his arms, jangling the chain behind their back as he prepared something.

"I don't know what you are, but I swear to God, I'm going to start screaming rape if you don't stop! The neighbors will call the cops!" (Reader) didn't know what they were saying, the adrenaline spike forcing out tough sounding sentences that made no sense, given the fact that this wasn't a normal human home invader.

Another rumble rolled throughout his rib cage as something cold violated (Reader's) ass. (Reader) involuntarily screamed as the hook was lodged into their anus.

They tried to fall to the floor, allowing their legs to turn to jelly, but Krampus tugged on the chain above them, forcing them up onto their toes. Their hands were still tied behind their back, so their balance was depended entirely on the chain.

Krampus seemed pleased, looking down at the teary little human.

(Reader) was not on the naughty list.

They had always been a good person, mindful of others and always attempting to do what was right. So when they opened the window that night, releasing their scent and calling out to Krampus, he knew what they were really implying.

A long, pink cock slick and shiny in the multicolor glow of (Reader's) bindings emerged from the black mass of fur between his animalistic legs. It was thin, but it continued emerging, revealing itself to almost be the length of his thigh.

He grabbed (Reader's) hair again, forcefully pushing their upper half down, bending them at their waist. They couldn't fall because of the chain still holding (Reader) up. The hand on (Reader's) head shoved their face down to his crotch, slipping his slimy cock between their lips as they begged him to stop. Like a sword, the long penis went down their throat, rubbing against their uvula, and poking into their stomach. Vomit rose and threatened to choke (Reader), coughing it up around his thin cock that smelled like his fingers.

(Reader) tried to straighten their back to pull his dick out of their body, but the Krampus yanked up on the hook while laughing, causing (Reader) to fall forward back onto his dick as their feet lost contact with the ground.

The chain was given some slack, placing (Reader) back onto their toes. They were able to pull off his dick long enough to release the bile onto his thighs. It was still in their mouth, but at it's thin tip, allowing (Reader) the chance to breathe. Then he pulled up again, ramming (Reader) onto him like some kind of pulley operated sex toy.

(Reader) felt their muscles burn as their face was mercilessly fucked by the monster, bobbing their head up and down his shaft by the chain still attached to (Reader's) ass.

Krampus dropped the heavy metal chain to grab (Reader's) head, slapping his heavy balls against their chin as his fucking became more erratic, smashing their nose into his thick fur as his chuckles turned to deep moans and pants. Then, (Reader's) face was held against his pelvis tightly as painfully hot fluid shot straight into their stomach.

He pulled out slowly, still twitching with little pumps of cum as he slid the cock out of their throat and over their tongue.

(Reader) left their mouth open, feeling the smelly fluid drip off their tongue and onto the floor, hoping they would vomit up the rest of his jizz they were forced to drink. The appearance of (Reader) with sticky white drool still connected in a long string to the tip of his hard cock, along with the pathetic little sniffles they made as tears dribbled down their cheeks, excited Krampus more, encouraging him to continue.

Still coughing up the suffocating muck, (Reader) was hoisted into the air, this time not by the hook that had fallen out of their rear, but but the Christmas lights around their midsection.

Suspended above the ground, (Reader) frantically kicked their legs. Krampus held the back of the bindings of their arms with one clawed fist, exposing themselves to him. A foot made contact with his knee in the struggle, but Krampus didn't flinch, completely unfazed by (Reader's) strength.

"No more! Fucking stop!" (Reader) squealed in desperation. They knew he could see how aroused they had become from this angle. (Reader) couldn't see his face, but knew he was smirking at them like the bastard he was. They didn't want to, but their body couldn't help it. It felt good to be fucked.

It had been a long time since (Reader) had had sex, but even longer since they had been fucked.

His still wet member pried open (Reader's) clenched hole. It wasn't painful, with how thin it was, but it kept going in, deeper, and deeper. It hit the point where a large human cock would have stopped, but the monster didn't seem to care for (Reader's) discomfort, forcing himself all the way in. (Reader) didn't even know how they fit all that dick inside of them. But the moment they felt his hot hips grind against their ass, their eyes fluttered.

Unable to touch the ground, (Reader) was held up by the Krampus' left hand and his erection. The lights dug into their ribs painfully, scraping against them as Krampus used the decoration as a harness. His thrusts were fast and hard, just like when he was raping (Reader's) mouth. He went deeper into their slutty hole than anyone ever had before, forcibly giving (Reader) unwanted pleasure.

"H- Help!" (Reader) shakily whined as they fought against how good his slimy inhuman dick felt as he pounded them from behind. Each snap of his hips hit their nerves better than any man had before. The building tightness was eroding (Reader's) will to fight.

'This isn't morally wrong.. right?'

'It's like a dream.. no one judges you for who you fuck in a dream you can't control..'

Their stomach contracted as their orgasm built, threatening to release. But just as (Reader) was about to finish, Krampus ceased his movements, holding them unbearably still against him.

(Reader) involuntarily whined. The climax slowly dissolved, losing the momentum. "Please let me go.."

Something hard painfully slapped their ass, cracking loudly like a riding crop. (Reader) cried out before they could bite their lip, earning another chuckle from the goat man as he continued dicking them down from behind.

Just as (Reader) tried to hush the sounds of enjoyment singing out from their own mouth, another slap from the wood stung their rippling ass cheek as Krampus buried his cock into them.

The rising orgasm built faster this time, causing (Reader) to shake as though they were helping rock themselves onto Krampus' long dick. Their thighs quivered and their breaths became ragged. Each thrust was alternated with a stinging whack to (Reader's) behind. And each time that wood contacted sharply against their skin, (Reader) was brought closer to the edge.

But again, he stopped, only keeping himself in as (Reader) lost their orgasm. They moaned angrily.

It seemed obvious that (Reader) was enjoying this, so why did he keep stopping?? Embarrassment filled (Reader) up and spilled out as tears and a cock hungry sob. "Please.." (Reader) squeezed their eyes shut in shame. "Please finish up.."

"Be more specific." A frighteningly deep voice rumbled from behind (Reader). "What do you want me to do, naughty little whore?"

Precum leaked down (Reader's) legs. "Please let me cum.."

The switch smacked them harder. "What was that?"

"Please let me cum!" (Reader) felt themselves tightening around his dick as they raised their voice. "Please fuck me stupid! I want to cum!"

Another harsh slap earned a gasp from (Reader), urging them to continue begging.

"Please fuck me!"

He laughed quietly while pulling (Reader) up so they could see his face. His dick was still buried deep inside of them as he gazed down at them with predatory eyes. "What a good little slut.."

His lips smashed against (Reader's) forcing his tongue into their kiss as he resumed his assault on their tired, raw genitals. (Reader) returned the kiss just as desperately as Krampus gave it. Their kissing made (Reader) light headed as his ramming cock fucked them past the point of no return.

(Reader) came loudly at the same time as Krampus shot another round into their greedy fuck hole. Even after his seed spilled out he continued pumping, slapping his wet hips up against (Reader's) as he rode out his second orgasm. He kept his cock nestled deep inside (Reader) as they passed out, falling asleep in his arms as he weakly continued rubbing himself against their twitching walls.

(Reader) woke up in the morning on the couch, their clothes on and bundled up in a warm blanket. Johanna was awake, making coffee. Their face burned, wondering what they could have eaten the night before to make them dream about something so dirty, and so vividly.

"You awake yet?"

(Reader) quickly sat up, sore, presumably from sleeping on a couch. "Yeah, I'm getting up."

They stood, but almost immediately felt their knees buckle as cum poured out of them into their pants so quickly (Reader) thought they pissed themselves. (Reader) squawked, pulling open their bottoms to find their underwear missing, and the insides of their pants painted with someone else's fluids, still leaking out of their swollen hole.

"Haha, what was that?" (Reader) quickly pulled up their pants as their friend entered the living room with the mug (Reader) broke the night before.

"Nothing."

"You sure? You look kinda feverish.."

"I'm good!"

"I was just thinking about how to get on the naughty list again next year~"

#merry christmas #yandere #yandere monster #monster fuckers #christmas 2023 #krampus #Krampus x reader #gn reader #cw noncon #cw dubcon #brat reader #mild brat taming #yandere monster x reader #happy holidays #yandere x reader #christmas

[jamesroach]

whatre your thoughts on younger fandom mem8ers (like those who are under 18) and how they interact with homestuck just as a whole? im a 8it curious ::::)

i was the youngest of all my (5) siblings, but like with any big family there are like.. age group generations. my siblings were all much older than me so despite being the youngest, in my "generation" i was one of the oldest of all the cousins. This will make sense to some, probably especially if you are hispanic.

So I've always kind of been around younger people. This is what pushed me to want to be a music teacher. Taking the guidance and lessons I got from my older siblings/cousins/uncles/aunts/etc and giving it to a new generation.

Now that i'm middle aged and my bright young idealist teaching days are far behind me, i find myself again in a position where i am surrounded by younger people. While I have little interest in interacting with children on a personal level I do think that its important to understand that they're just kids. You have to treat them with what my teachers called compassionate regard.

What this means is remembering that sometimes they will mess up, or sometimes have sort of stupid ideas, or they'll say weird and often kind of mean things and not just think about it. They're just kids. When you're a kid you test your boundaries and figure out who you're trying to be. To quote homestuck itself:

As an adult, it is your job to know better and try to be kind even if they are being sort of a little weirdo. Whether they know it or not, kids are seeing how you react or engage. If you're setting a bad example by being a shithead how can you expect them to be any better?

What I do, is I try and establish clear boundaries. "please don't do that." etc. If a young person says something especially rude or weird to me, tell them clearly not to do that. It doesn't have to be a whole ordeal. You don't have to make fun of them or shit on them. If its something that needs course correcting you can just privately say "hey don't do that."

thats all a little heavy handed too though. not every moment is a LEARNABLE LESSON or w/e. i think you have to balance that sort of thing with just rolling with it. sometimes some little bastard dunks on you because you're a boomer online and you just gotta go like, damn you fucking got me. sometimes you gotta riff on the bit. sometimes a kid will have a really stupid take online and your first reaction cant be "i gotta own this idiot" they're like 15 man let it go. you beefing with someone who has to ask permission to go to the bathroom its not that deep.

anyway this got really long, and i dont even know if i answered your question. forgive me i am old.

#every time i make one of these posts its like oh old man roach rambling again

[hindahoney]

If you want to code-switch so often that you are nearly incomprehensible to goyim, here is a list of my favorite and most-used Jewish terms:

Schvitzing - Sweating. (Ex: "I'm schvitzing so much it's showing through my clothes.")

Schlep - A tedious and long journey, depending on usage it can mean that you were carrying something. (Ex: "I had to schlep all the way across campus, my backpack was so heavy." Usually denotes a long walk, but other forms of transportation are acceptable too. "You drove all the way to New York from Florida? That's quite the shlep.")

Shtati - Something really cool. (Ex: "I visited my friend's place and they had a shtati mezuzah!")

Neshama - Soul. (Ex: "Mazel tov on your conversion, you have such a strong Jewish neshama!")

Balagan - A big mess, chaotic, confusing (Ex: "Moshe forgot to bring challah for shabbat dinner, and it turned into this big balagan")

Achi/Achoti - "Achi" literally means "my brother," but can also be used like bro or dude, "achoti" is the feminine equivalent meaning "sister"

Yalla - Come on, let's go (Ex: "Yalla yalla, you're going to make us late again")

Mishpacha - Family. Doesn't have to be literal blood relatives, usually a sign of warmth or friendship. (Ex: "I care about every Jew, they're all my mishpacha.")

Pshhh - Interjection sound, to express respect or agreement with what someone is saying, but can also be playfully poking fun at someone taking themselves too seriously, can be used sarcastically.

Achla - amazing, awesome, great, the best (Ex: "You graduated from university? Achla!")

Sheina Punem (Shayna Punim) - Pretty face (Ex: My bubbe kept pinching my cheeks and calling me a sheina punem) Can be used ironically, in which case it means "a disgrace."

Ahavat Yisrael - to love your fellow Jew (Ex: "I firmly believe in ahavat yisrael, even if it's hard sometimes.")

Schande - Shame, dishonor among the nations, meaning a Jew who represents Jews badly, a serious insult. (Ex: "He's a schande, he feeds into antisemitic stereotypes.")

Schmutz - Dirt, stain. (Ex: "Use your napkin, you've got schmutz on your face.")

Amalek - Any enemy of the Jewish people. ("[Fill in blank] is the modern Amalek, they hate the Jews.")

Lanceman/Landsmen - Two jews from the same place, a point of connection between two Jews who now live far away from their hometown. (Ex: "Your grandma is from Crown Heights? Mine too, our grandparents are landsmen!")

Goyisch - Something not Jewish (Ex: "I don't listen to Taylor Swift, her music is too goyisch for me.")

Goyischekop/Goyische-kop - Goyisch head, a jew who thinks/sounds like a non-jew. (Ex: "How could you say about your fellow Jew? Do you have a goyische-kop or something?")

Kindaleh/Kinderlach - Little children (Ex: "I passed by the school and saw the kindaleh on the playground, they're so cute!")

Chamud/Chamuda/Chamudi - Sweetie, cutie, usually aimed at children, but can be a term of endearment between a couple. Can be condescending when said rudely to another adult, like "Sweetheart" can be in English. (ex: "Goodnight, Chamudi. I can't wait to see you tomorrow.")

Daven - to pray ("Are you going to join us for davening?")

Frum - A religiously observant Jew. ("He's frum, he davens three times a day.")

Treif - Unkosher, generally something not good, doesn't have to literally refer to a food. ("I trained my dog to stop barking when I say 'treif!'.")

Bubkis - Zero, nothing, nada ("Moshe got a gift from bubbe and I got bubkis.")

Kvetch - To complain ("I'm just kvetching, I'm not that upset about it.")

Kvell - Extreme pride. ("I heard your daughter made it into her top school, you must be kvelling!")

Mensch - A good, admirable person. ("He volunteers every week, he's a mensch.")

Chillul HaShem - Disgracing God's name, someone who does something that makes Jews look bad.

Kiddush HaShem - Something that sanctifies God's name, brings honor to God. ("I love seeing you wear a kippah, it's a kiddush HaShem!")

Bubbe meise - Little white lies ("He told his teacher a bubbe meise about his dog eating his homework.")

I should acknowledge that these are mostly Yiddish words, as my experience is primarily with Ashkenazi Jews. If you would like to add common slang from your community (like Ladino phrases, Judeo-Arabic, Italki, etc) I would love to learn about them!

#there are so many other words but i use these all the time #add whatever you want! #jumblr #frumblr #jewblr #yiddish #hebrew #jewish #jewish culture #j tag #jew tag

[crevicedwelling]

spotted lanternflies, Lycorma delicatula. an infamous invasive in my area, but I’ve come to enjoy these clumsy little freaks more than I ever thought I would.

people are oddly obsessed with destroying them still, although the effect of killing them by hand or even with pesticides is negligible on the now-well-established populations. this is more of a “stop the spread” problem than it is “get rid of established populations,” and it’s people who don’t usually see these who should be on the highest alert for them. still, it’s interesting how their conspicuity, diurnality, and generally slow speed has made them the perfect thing for humans to kill thoughtlessly while other pests stay hidden, like emerald ash borers, or are undeservedly beloved, like honeybees, most of the eastern mantises, and feral cats.

the kill-on-sight campaigns area little depressing to me, especially when directed towards children —sure, they teach invasive species awareness, but really it’s just feeding an ugly desire to kill little animals. not going to ask you to not control them if they’re causing damage to your plants, but the weird bloodthirsty attitude towards Lycorma and declarations of their “evil” nature don’t seem terribly productive. they are as blameless as any invasive species. even when invasives must be killed by the individual (works for some species, not all!), there is still room to act thoughtfully and not demonize an animal for being an animal.

so personally, I let the lanternflies chill—for the most part, they feed on invasive weeds and nonnative ornamental plants, so they’re not much of a concern to me or my garden. whatever proper control methods (parasitoids, pathogens?) get developed probably won’t eliminate all of them, too, so big dumb fulgorids are probably a permanent fixture here. ah, I still feed them to mantises, but the only ones big enough are also invasive…

here’s one all tender and pale after molting. I’d like to find a teneral adult this year, which must be stunning

a good post on the topic of killing invasive species by @bowelfly :

#bugs #spotted lanternfly #Hemiptera

[gallus-rising]

dungeon meshi loreposting again: orc addition

it always seemed kind of weird to me that Zon, the orc chieftain, evacuated the community to the safer upper floors while leaving his much younger sister (Leed is 14 which is the age of majority for orcs. she has only just recently become an adult) behind to keep an eye on the now dragon infested home settlement

there's a few personality differences to help explain that. Zon is a new chieftain and is trying to take a more cautious approach when dealing with the dual threats of monsters moving into upper floors and a increasing number of adventures on the island. Leed is a hot-blooded youngest who thinks they need to fight back

but if that's all there is to it why couldn't Zon be the one to stay behind while telling his younger sister "hey, we're moving the women/children/elderly to the upper floors for safely. you take a few warriors and defend them from the adventures"

and note that orc women are considered noncombatants. why does Leed, a young woman, have such a loyal group of warriors? as the chief's younger sister she probably has special privileges, but it's pretty reasonable to think that these big tough men might get a bit uppity about following little girl when the chief's not there to protect her, and "i kinda know who Senshi is" still seems like a flimsy reason to not kill a group of intruders (that has an elf with them!)

character design note

Leed is perhaps drawn with the palest skin/fur out of all the orcs we see. since her eyes are so large it's much easier to tell what color they are vs most other orcs but it seems like pale blue eyes are at least uncommon. she is also the only orc we see with white hair.

CONCLUSION 1: Leed is albino

another design note

baby orcs are born with white stripes (like baby boars 🥺) which they grow out of. from the example of what is clearly baby Leed we see the stripes are harder to notice on paler fur, so orcs with pale fur likely "lose" their stripes at a younger age

CONCLUSION 2: albino orcs are seen as mature, strong warriors, or otherwise special in some way. there's even precedent in the dungeon meshi universe for individuals with unusual skin/fur color to be given special status. despite not being the queen's actual children/grandchildren Flamela and her sister were the only 2 people in line for the throne because they're Elf Melanistic

FINAL CONCLUSION: as Zon's younger sister Leed is in a position to personally push back against his orders. Leed wants to stay and fight the dragon? ok, there's plenty of fellow battle hungry warriors ready to rally behind and follow the most specialist murder baby in the dungeon

#dungeon meshi #*furious pecking*

[weebsinstash]

As much as I want to have children by this man, let's take a moment to sip our platonic yandere Miguel juice

-i can't decide which sex he'd be more partial to in a 'child'/you since in the movie there was Gabriella but in the comics he eventually has a son who becomes the next Spiderman but--

-as a girl i just naturally think of a lot of those sorts of gender specific ideas 👉👈 he's this big scary hulking intimidating threat and his "daughter" is the one melting his cold exterior

-doesnt matter if you're a grown ass woman, Miguel sees you struggling to braid your hair and suddenly here he is, full dad mode, doing it for you,and depending on how close you two are, maybe he disguises it with "ugh, stop spending so much time messing around with that. If I do it for you will you get back to work? 🙄", but really it's just your new self proclaimed dad/tio wanting to help braid your hair and help you feel pretty and, oh, how he can fondly remember the last time he helped braid "his daughter's" hair...

-of course this evolves to him just loving to do things with your hair. Braid it, wear it natural, style it, use products on it, hes got you. you were just trying to put your hair in a lazy updo like a ponytail or bun and this man doesn't let you leave until he's got you completely combed out, hair braided with ribbons, and of course this entire time youre awkwardly sitting there in a chair in his absolute cave of a workstation with this gargantuan 6'9 man there, "so how was your day? Staying out of trouble?"

-really I mean. Is stealing other people's kids NOT technically in character for him. You're unfortunate enough to trauma bond with this man and you're never getting rid of him

-you hear Miles Morales call him tio (as in the tio meaning dude) and you jokingly teasingly start calling him tio, which Miguel secretly pretends is the version that means uncle. You're just constantly joking around or looking up at him with these big pouty eyes, "but tio 🥺 can't I PLEASE--" and its like. Lmao people know that if they need to ask Miguel for a favor, that it increases their chances to have you ask in their stead

- I mean, as a female adult abused as a child by my own father, raised by a single mom myself, like...

Reader flinches away when Peter B goes to give you a supportive pat on the back or comes in for a high five after a mission and you force yourself to laugh because you're feeling more than just a little awkward and in the spotlight. "Oh, sorry, that was dumb!" And they eventually get you to kind of anxiously word vomit "my dad used to just kind of, rough me up sometimes when I did something wrong! It-it could've been a lot worse honestly, but, it-it just makes me kinda jumpy around guys sometimes! It's not a big deal, or personal or anything. I'm sorry if I made you feel bad 🥺"

Peter B, Jessica, and Miguel all there as older parental figures and also literal parents, immediately exchange looks and agree like "oh hell naw, don't like that" and you get silently adopted by all three of em right then and there

-if it's a physically abusive father and you're still the victim of abuse, I imagine your dad had some suspicious figures suddenly show up in the middle of the night to terrify and threaten the shit out of him and suddenly you aren't getting as manhandled anymore

-can you imagine, like, you show up to Spider Society one day with a black eye "oh, this? It's, it's nothing. My dad is just, he's about to make police captain and he's really stressed about it is all" cue all your friends mentally high fiving around the table because your abusive piece of shit dad is going to die and you don't even know. When it happens they'll all be "oh no, sweetie, I'm SOOOO sorry :(" meanwhile they're thrilled bc now you don't have any parents and they can weasel in there as your new family, schedule your birthday parties, monopolizing more of your time, things like that

-goddd I just imagine it could become some kind of weird fucked up enmeshed scenario where the structure it's providing for your life is actually good for you meanwhile Miguel is like, retroactively kind of soothing some of his trauma both from his own childhood and what happened with the second universe he broke that it's just like. You're a grown ass adult and this man is tucking you in goodnight and saying "te amo, mija" at the doorway and you bet his ass is going to stand there and not let you sleep until you say it back. He knows you're just absolutely seething at him and he'll still refuse to leave without a grumbling "te amo, papá 🙄"

-He eventually just has you doing so much shit and depending on him so much that it starts to become second nature to you. one day you're in the Society doing one of the odd jobs you're allowed to help with and suddenly you're thinking, "Ugh I actually don't know what to do next, I wish Papá was here to-- WAIT SHIT NO I MEAN MIGUEL--"

-lmaooooo as a non Spanish speaker I keep thinking of how awwwwwful it would be if he actually forces you to learn Spanish. Not inherently because there's anything wrong with Spanish, but, I'm not always smart, and I can just SEE him quizzing your ass, forcing you to have entire conversations in Spanish, always clicking his tongue or chuckling at you when you make a mistake and he just thinks you're so cute struggling to learn 🥰 man hears you're trying to take extra lessons from Miles and he instantly drops everything he's doing to go track the little scamp down. Insert meme "I can forgive being an anomaly but I draw the line at teaching Reader bad Spanish"

-siiiiiiigh eventually the day comes when you're in big danger and you need his help, maybe you disobeyed him and was hanging out with some other Spiders in another dimension when there was a sudden villain attack, and he comes to your rescue as a villain does something dramatic like has a gun to your head or a knife to your neck and the second you see him you're just overwhelmed wirh a sense of relief, calling out for him, calling him dad/tio/papá whatever, and he's just like 😭❤️ pumping his fist internally, like YES you are so grounded when you get back home but also 🥰 you finally called him dad without him having to twist your arm 🥰 nevermind if the "villain" who kidnapped you was actually a Spider who owed him a favor, and this whole thing was to teach you a lesson about listening to your Papá, that's not important ❤️

-Miguel who forces you to learn Spanish vs Miguel who forces you to be Catholic. I can excuse kidnapping and forced adoption but I draw the line at making me practice religion 💀 no but seriously, he probably does have certain morals and values he instills/forces upon you if he thinks you need them, and he'll probably be one of those fathers, "are you leaving the house dressed like that? Go change" and orders you not to hang out with certain people he doesn't approve of or thinks have bad character (like hobie lmao)

-bruh you two will be on a super serious important mission and this man will be like "it's dark, hold my hand so we dont get separated"

Eventually it comes to a point where you're, not perfectly behaved but, just about. If someone finds Miguel, it means you're not very far away, or vice versa. Members of the Society quickly learn not to make any advances on you or make any "adult" comments unless they want to get suspiciously hurt during a personal training session by the big boss himself. You think you're safe just cause Miguel isn't around? Nah, cause then you have Peter B and Jess keeping an eye on you, and, not that YOU'RE aware of the extent, but, if Miguel ever gets worried, he can just ask Lyla what you've been getting up to, since your modified little daypass has her installed into it and she can track your every move ❤️ helicopter parent? Oh honey, you have NO idea...

#yandere miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #yandere x reader #yandere spiderverse #yandere stuff #sinprompts

[echofromtheabyss]

So, if you want to understand the history of ND stuff in any useful kind of way you have to know that we talked about these things differently. Gen Xrs have a different generational experience and Boomers' is different still.

Prior to the 80s, NDs were really not a thing. The optic was almost entirely in terms of learning disability and intellectual impairment in the 70s.

ADHD - not autism - is really the first we see of anything resembling the modern ND consciousness, as "autistic" was a label reserved for children presenting with severe disability or at minimum, delay.

Autism in the 70s and 80s and before was not culturally adjacent to ADHD or giftedness, it was adjacent to conditions of severe intellectual impairment.

It's possible to be an 80s ADHD labeled autistic who gets good interventions *because lots of how ADHD was understood at the time, got absorbed by autism later.*

This is basically my story as a matter of fact, a lot of helpful support I got early was via the ADHD pipeline, and so ADHD *is* my "recognized early enough to get meaningful self understanding and meaningful support* narrative, which is a big reason I was ABLE to shrug off autism as a label for about 15 years, until the changing autism stereotypes caught up with me.

ADHD and early issues with visible LD etc are WHY I didn't end up in the "normal until hospitalized" optic that some autistics I knew ended up in, if they had *only* been seen as gifted. I was very aware of my stuff very early even if it was called something else and even if it will be called something else in the future, and it shaped my social choices, my career choices, etc.

Also there was the optic to Boomers and older that you really could just be a "normal" person or even a high performing "genius" who was just "a little slow as a kid." (There are many historical figures this actually applies to. "A little slow as a kid" may just be within a *normal* range of child development.) This is actually part of where many Boomers are coming from when they think a certain degree of autism is just normal.

Early labels in adults (whom we would now understand as high masking ASD-1) were more personal history than identity.

To Boomers and older, you were "mentally well" until you presented "mentally ill." There really wasn't anything like being ND as we presently understand. Also, the *very same optics* that got boys seen as gifted, invested lots of time and support into, etc, got girls into the clinical pipeline early. The real dx discrepancy between girls and boys in my generation and older is the degree to which cis het white rich boys were just allowed to not be anything at all while girls were immediately tagged as mentally ill or developmentally disabled with the very same presentation, even within the same family. My grandmother who was a victim of this, and heavily and deeply abused from early childhood, is the sister of my physicist uncle who was on the Manhattan Project and was odd but successful, had a wife and family, never labeled anything at all.

Lots of people we now see as autistic were just considered normal gifted people who then had a "nervous breakdown" after high school/entering the adult world.

It was possible to be totally ego-syntonic as an odd person until diagnosis, if you were in the 80s gifted pipeline, because if you were in a social set that was actually ALLOWED to be intelligent let alone gifted in the first place (i.e., an upper middle class person, with more weirdness optic allowed for boys) you likely weren't going to be diagnosed with ANYTHING unless you were Weird with a Capital W.

That I had any kind of optic besides just being Gifted is *because* despite high IQ, I was a poor academic performer, and *couldn't* mask well inside a school setting.

These are people without even that optic.

They literally were just seen as gifted, and it was assumed that - of course - highly gifted people were a little weird. Gifted optic in school meant access to a whole different social and academic pipeline consisting hugely of other people we would now understand as ND, so it's actually possible to come out of that being totally ego-syntonic, and never ever even seek diagnosis until something breaks.

If you're like my ex husband who ended up just going away to sea for years, and then becoming a programmer in a basement at a university, you might never get diagnosed with anything, especially if you never see yourself as the problem in any of your interpersonal interactions, and that was a FAR more common optic with gifted white Gen X and Jones ASD-1 boys than early dx was.

The thing for my generation isnt the degree to which boys were diagnosed over girls... quite the opposite, it's the degree to which smart white rich boys were just *allowed* to be odd and given tons of concessions *without* being labeled ANYTHING, because of the degree to which the culture saw that boy was probably a future curer of cancer or a future astronaut.

A chunk of the "NT [more likely, high masking autist] woman miserably married to ASD man" narrative on those websites like FAAAS is actually referring to men who don't have any diagnostic label whatsoever and don't understand themselves as the problem, if you actually read the stories.

Those guys don't get diagnosed until something actually breaks - like, their wife hauls them into couples counseling, or they have finally exhausted their supply of good will (many social compensations of gifted children stop working past one's 20s and that's actually when my dx happened too).

Interpersonal problems weren't enough for dx unless they actually bothered a person enough to seek help. Something has to break. You don't end up with a diagnosis because you're happy and adjusted, no matter how odd you are.

Please ask Boomers about nervous breakdowns because half the time this is referring to what we now understand as autistic burnout.

#i have a lot of thermonuclear takes tbh and don't feel autism is going to be a meaningful term in 20 years #the map is not the terrain

[allysunny]

Can you do little stories and scenarios of Bruce and a female reader. Her and Bruce have been together since birth, living in the Wayne manor (both of them had their parents unalived at the opera… yk how that goes). She’s this girl who’s constantly annoyed with Bruce 🙄 and Bruce is head over heels for her and would literally do anything and die for her in a heartbeat. She would too, it would just take a little more effort for her to be okay with dying for him🙄. (This is going to get very specific, hold on) They’ve been hooking up for years and Bruce always wants something more but the reader is always like 🙄🥱 “no Bruce”. Anyway, PLEASE WORK YOUR MAGIC🙏🙏 SO SPECIFIC I KNOW LMFAOOOO BUT PLEASE I HOPE YOU SEE THE VISION I HAVE ❤️🖤🙏🙌✨♾️💍🥹🌳🌴🎉

Secretive Stares | Bale!Bruce Wayne x Fem!Reader

Words: 2.7k words

Warnings: Suggestive themes, implied friends with benefits, Bruce Wayne is one whipped guy, mentions of period and period pains, sort of angst? If you squint, really. If I let something out, please let me know!

A/N: Hey everyone! Happy New Year, first and foremost! I hope your holidays have been pleasant and you guys have had an amazing time!!

So, I just wanted to start by saying that I did not see the vision. I'm so, so, sorry. This was a very fun request, but I clearly did not see your vision, or I'd have written more, and something better. These type of relationships are not really my cup of tea, but I tried my best to step out of my comfort zone and give you what you deserved! I apologize if it did not live up to your expectations. I really did try my best and I hope you appreciate it!

Second of all, I'd just like to remind everyone that my requests are now open! I write for Bale!Bruce (duh), Nanami Kento and Miguel O'Hara. Hopefully in the future I'll be able to write other characters.

That's it! Again, thank you so much for the request, and I really hope you enjoy it!

You grew up with Bruce Wayne, which meant your childhood was anything but normal.

Mostly because not all kids grew up with the title of Gotham’s Prince and Princess. Most kids are normal, spending their time in classes, running around, completely carefree.

But not you two. You couldn’t afford to be careless and carefree. Having your parents shot that night at the opera made you two grow up quite quickly and become little adults rather than children. Alfred loved you both and your personalities of course, and he encouraged you to seek out the childhood he thought you deserved. In between classes and lessons from private tutors, he would try to get you to play outside, to create your own worlds and have fun. All he wanted was for the children he would raise as his own to be happy and unburdened.

And to be fair, he did achieve that, somehow.

You two grew up to be as thick as thieves, two birds of a feather. Wherever you were, Bruce was quick to follow, feeling more comfortable in your company. Alfred would try to convince him to spend some time on his own and make his own friends, but to no avail. He could see Bruce had a little schoolboy crush on you, and it always made him chuckle.

You didn’t seem to reciprocate his feelings (but to be fair, you were quite young to know what those were), but always treated him like a close friend.

While you two attended Princeton, everyone was far too scared to treat Bruce like a real person. They’d treat you normally – after all, you integrated so well in the student life, making friends and picking up hobbies and clubs like it was no big deal. Even if it was something quiet and calm like the journalism club, you were always surrounded by people (who may or may not be as quiet as you).

Bruce, however, was alone most of the time. He tried making friends, truly, but it was hard. He couldn’t find someone he trusted as much as you, so he found himself having lunch by himself or studying alone at his dorm. People would treat him like he was made of glass, too nervous to call out any mistakes he might’ve made or even ask for help. But not you – you saw right through him and never felt the need to coddle him like everyone else.

“Can you please just focus?” You mumbled, pointing to the notebook in front of you. You had been trying to explain your Literature assignment to him, but he not only did not feel like it, but was also too distracted by you. Had you always looked this pretty? Clearly, but you seemed to radiate with something Bruce couldn’t quite pinpoint. Perhaps it was the frustration of not being able to teach him that made your eyes sparkle a bit more.

“Bruce, I swear to Gotham that if you do not listen to me, I’ll –“

“How about we stop for today, huh?” he asked, taking the pencil you were holding from your hands and putting it aside. “I think we’ve studied hard enough. We deserve some rest.”

“Yeah, I have been studying hard. You’ve been distracted the whole time and haven’t even thought about the topic for your essay. Seriously Bruce, how you’re a top student, I’ll never know.” You huffed. “The answer to your question is no, by the way.” You leaned over to get the pencil from him and shook your head. Now, where were we?"

Bruce just groaned and silently went back to work. He got an A+ on that assignment.

He’s always tried to be your knight in shining armour, no matter how many times you’ve told him you can handle yourself just fine. Any minor inconvenience will set his “Batman mode” off, and he’ll just feel the need to help you. There’s a spider in the kitchen? Worry not, Bruce Wayne is taking care of it (even though you had just rushed into his office to grab a sheet of paper so you could safely place it outside). Your car’s oil needs changing? Don’t panic, Bruce is doing the changing himself (even though you already had an appointment with the mechanic and knew what the problem was). The door to the guest room you usually stay in is locked? No big deal, because Bruce is going to do his best to jam it open (even if you were already doing it with a pair of bobby pins).

It annoys you to hell and back whenever Bruce tries to do things for you. You like his gestures, sure, when they don’t implicate you’re either a baby or unable to complete the simplest of tasks.

But Bruce would do anything for you. Literally everyone in Gotham knows that. He will drive to your apartment at 3am to deliver a tin of cookies and some sodas in case you were feeling down, would take you all the way to Paris in one afternoon just because you mentioned how pretty the Eiffel Tower must be as the sun sets, bought an entire chain of restaurants simply because the one you wanted to go to was full. He was completely whipped. If you asked him to take a bullet for you, he’d do it in a heartbeat. He would lay his life before you if it meant you would be happy.

You reciprocated. Sometimes, and not as easily as him. But still, it was something. Your comments were rather ambiguous. Sometimes you’d tell him straight up, others you’d weave the little mind games that he so much loved to play into.

One time, you were lying on your bed, internally dying as your period got the best of you. You were curled up with a bunch of blankets, waiting for your painkillers to have its intended effect, when you heard the door of your apartment being open. Bruce and Alfred were the only ones with a spare key, and you doubted the butler would want anything from you right now.

There was a gentle knock on your door. Not any kind of knock, his knock. Your secret knock from when the two of you were children had stood the test of time, and he still used it after all these years.

You were far too exhausted to see him. Your whole body was screaming out in pain, and you didn’t really feel like talking to your childhood best friend. No, all you wanted to do was cry your eyes out while your uterus did whatever the hell it did.

“Go away!” you yelled, rolling on your bed, and pressing your hands against your stomach, in an attempt to soothe the pain.

“Is everything okay in there?” Bruce sounded concerned, and part of you felt bad for wanting him to go away – after all, he came all the way over to your place just to check on you. Pressing the heels of your hands against your eyes, you groaned out, “Just leave! I’ll be fine, just go away!”

Ignoring your command, Bruce slowly opened the door to your bedroom, head peeking inside.

“I told you to go away!” You yelled, throwing a pillow in his direction, and failing miserably.

“Yes, and I decided to ignore you. I brought you something.” He walked inside, taking the time to pick the pillow up and place it next to you, before handing you the plastic bag he was holding.

Reluctantly, you peered inside, and your eyes widened.

Your favourite snacks. All of them, inside this small plastic bag. Bruce knew you better than you knew yourself and had gotten you everything you loved to munch on when you were feeling down, as well as a few of your favourite beverages.

“How – how did you?” you stuttered.

“Lucky guess. I thought either heartbreak or period, and there was a high chance it was either of them, so I stopped by the supermarket. Was I correct?”

You were already halfway through your favourite chocolate bar, nodding at him. “The latter.”

Bruce grimaced and sat at the end of your bed, looking at you.

You tried not to look at him, into those pretty brown eyes of his.

“You’re whipped, Bruce Wayne. This is something only a creep would do. I don’t show up and you come over with sweets?” you chuckle, before finally meeting his gaze. After a while you looked at the bag in front of you. It had been a very sweet gesture. And no matter how “whipped” he might seem, he’d pretty much just saved you from a day of moping around in endless pain and discomfort. “Thanks,” you said quietly. “I really appreciate these.”

Bruce only nodded and stood up.

“Where are you going?” you asked, finishing your chocolate bar.

“I don’t want to prolong my stay more than what’s necessary. Don’t want to annoy you too bad today.”

You bit the inside of your cheek and shrugged, looking at your sheets.

“If you want to, you can stay.”

“Really?”

You shrugged again.

“Eating all of this will probably make me super sick. I need someone to clean up my vomit.”

He chuckled, nodded, and sat back down.

In reality, you just wanted his company.

Whenever you’re lazing around in the Manor, you often find yourself putting on some of Bruce’s clothes. His hoodies, which are way comfier than yours and reach your knees, his dress shirts when it’s warmer outside, even his favourite slippers. You reason with him that “everything that’s his is ten times more comfortable”. At first, he tried to fight you and banter back tenfold, but after a while, he just gave up. You did look great in his clothes. Bruce found himself catching glimpses of your bare legs or your thighs peeking out of his shirts, and wished you’d walk around like this more often.

In fact, he wished you’d stay forever. After all, whatever is his, was yours. He’d told you that plenty of times before. You, however, had brushed him off plenty of times, but clearly not enough to deter him.

You’d been hooking up for years now.

It had started out one cozy November night. You’d been watching a movie on his huge TV screen, sitting side by side, keeping a respectful distance from each other. Suddenly, it got far too cold for that, so you fetched a blanket and laid it on top of the two of you. And next thing you knew, you were on top of his bed, hands tangled up in his dark locks of hair as he pressed kisses down your body.

The next morning, Bruce had held you close to his chest, relishing on how perfectly your body slotted against his. His hands were tracing patterns on the skin of your arms. His mind was going a thousand miles. Finally, he had you. Finally, you were his. He couldn’t resist placing kisses on your shoulder, and you stirred awake.

“Good morning,” he mumbled against your skin.

It took a while for you to respond. You yawned a few times, before looking around his bedroom. Your gaze settled on him, and your eyebrows scrunched up in confusion. Last night’s events came to you. Oh. Right.

“Morning,” you replied, yawning right after. Slowly, you untangled yourself from his grip, and sat up, looking around for your clothes, or at least something you could cover yourself with. You found his shirt on the floor, and quickly leaned over to get it and put it on.

“How are you feeling?” Bruce asked, using his arm to prop his head up.

“Fine. You?” you replied, brushing a few strands of hair from your face.

“I couldn’t be better.”

You offered him a small smile and stood up, looking for your clothes, or a pair of pants.

“What’s the hurry?” he asked once again, brows furrowing. Were you leaving?

“I’m getting something to eat. I’m starving, Bruce.” Chuckling, you found your pants and put them on as well. Bruce sat up on his bed and his eyes roamed over your figure, now hidden by clothes. He’d liked the view much better when you were bare before him.

“Aren’t we going to talk?”

You stopped, turning to him.

“Talk?”

“Yeah. About last night. About us.”

You let out a small chuckle.

When you looked at him, you found Bruce looking at you with a serious expression.

Oh.

“Wait. You’re – you’re serious about this?”

“Why wouldn’t I be? It’s not like I’ve ever hid how I felt about you. But you’ve never told me how you felt.”

You stood there, staring at him. You didn’t know what to say. And what could you? Bruce was a good friend. Your closest friend, ever since the two of you were children. And there was no denying it, he was extremely good-looking, and last night you’d been attracted to him. Who wouldn’t? But you didn’t like him. At least not like that.

It was Bruce. He was your friend. The guy you tutored back in your Princeton days, who couldn’t concentrate on his homework for more than five minutes and somehow got stellar grades. Who pretended to be an eccentric billionaire for the sake of Gotham (or so he said).

“I’m sorry Bruce, I – I don’t feel that way about you.” The words came out, firm and strong. You had no doubts on your mind about how you felt. “I’m sorry if last night led you to believe otherwise.”

He stared at you, and it was like he could feel the pieces of his heart breaking bit by bit.

“But hey – we’re still friends. Right? You’re not getting rid of me that easily. Nothing needs to change.” You offered him a smile and he tried to give you one back, but it didn’t really reach his eyes.

“Sure. Nothing needs to change.”

You two thought that’d be the end of it, but it wasn’t.

For years, you slept together, tearing each other’s clothes at night, and awkwardly scrambling for them the next morning. You saw it as mere lust and physical attraction. You two were good friends who occasionally slept together. It was good. It felt good. But that was it.

Bruce, on the other hand, saw things differently. He thought it meant he had a chance. He thought that every time you decided to sleep with him, it meant you were one step closer to falling for him, to admitting how you felt.

Every morning he woke up with you in his arms, he’d try his luck. Brushing his fingers on your skin, ghosting his lips over the love marks and bites he’d left the night prior, he’d whisper to you.

“Would it be so bad for us to be together?” He’d sense you tensing under him, and then you were sighing and breaking free from his hold. He’d chastise himself mentally for scaring you away again, and that’s when you replied. You always gave him the same reply, looking him dead in the eye. “No, Bruce.”

And Bruce would lie back down as you hurried to get dressed and grab something to eat. His mind told him it was a terrible idea to keep sleeping with you, to allow you to toy with him like this when you had no feelings for him at all.

And although Bruce Wayne was always a very logical man, when it came to you, he was irrational, and always listened to his heart.

And his heart told him that someday, somehow, someway, you’d see the light. Someday, you’d finally understand how much emotion and love his kisses and caresses conveyed. Someday, you would listen to the unspoken words that hung in the air whenever he dropped to capture your lips with his own.

And even if you didn’t, he convinced himself that he was okay with it all, if only it meant he got to wake up next to you.

A/N: And that's it! I hope you guys liked it! It's not my best work I would say, but I gave it my all, as always! I hope you all have a wonderful day ahead!

#bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x y/n #bruce wayne x you #bale!bruce wayne #bale!batman x reader #bale!batman #bale!bruce wayne x reader #the dark knight #the dark knight trilogy #nolanverse #the dark knight fanfic #the dark knight fanfiction #nolanverse fanfiction #bruce wayne fanfiction #batman fanfiction #batman x fem!reader #bruce wayne x fem!reader

[fastcardotmp3]

more for your money

for @steddiemicrofic October 2023 prompt: SUCK | words: 480 | rated: T | cw: parent with cancer (but no parent death) | tags: adult Steddie; Halloween fic

“Rookie mistake.”

“Wha'?” Steve questions broadly through a mouthful of chocolate, nudging the big orange bowl sitting in Eddie's lap with his toes to make room for propping up his feet.

There's another bowl sitting on a stool by the front door, because Eddie had gotten overexcited about how many potential children would show up on Halloween night.

It's our first Trick-or-Treat in the neighborhood! he had crowed the day he dragged hefty grocery bags of candy through the front door, we have to make a good impression! We have to be a cool Halloween house!

And Steve wasn't about to deny him that, not this year especially. It shouldn't be surprising, the fact that parents get old, but moving to a new house with a spare room big enough to house Wayne has been an adjustment.

Eddie's resistance to miss a single chemo appointment has been an adjustment. The knowledge that the one person who has protected and defended Eddie his entire life is now fighting for his own has been a real goddamn adjustment.

So, if Eddie wants to blow his paycheck on a neighborhood-wide sugar rush, who is Steve to stop him? If it gets that sparkle back in his eye, who is anyone to fight that, especially Eddie's own partner of nearly a decade?

“Rookie mistake,” Eddie repeats with a nod of his chin to the wrapper still in Steve's hands, “the chocolate.”

“I like chocolate,” Steve points out with a frown and a swallow. “What's wrong with chocolate?”

“See, look, already gone,” he motions to him, “meanwhile I'll be sucking on these bad boys for ages,” a shake of a miniature Milk Duds box too triumphant for the conversation at hand.

Steve lifts an eyebrow at him.

“This some entry to the Munson Doctrine I've never heard?”

“Hmm, no, more like Poor Kid Doctrine,” Eddie settles somewhat into the couch, a hand wrapping around Steve's ankle in that way that always feels a little like a kid with a security blanket. “Lasts longer. More for your money. Wayne taught me that.”

Steve's heart clenches. It's like watching someone prepare for an incoming hit, watching Eddie these past few months. The knowledge that their time with Wayne is likely limited, the little bits of a Munson upbringing that have been coming out with more force and frequency.

Steve drops his feet out of Eddie's lap so he can sit closer instead, dragging those salt and pepper curls to rest on his shoulder, pressing a kiss to the crown of that heavy head.

“We'll save him some of the good stuff,” he promises, a murmur of certainty when so much is uncertain right now.

Eddie curls in closer to him. Neither of them mention the shake to his shoulders, but the next time he answers the doorbell to Trick-or-Treaters, his eyes are red over his beaming grin.

#dot fic #dot post #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #wayne munson #steddiemicrofic #not me continuing to take prompts obviously meant for smutty results and making them about grief oops

[dyns33]

Obvious

Most of the time I see him as the cool silly big bro, but I love Deadpool, so here's a long Deadpool x female reader.

Normally nothing destined Y/N to meet Wade Wilson.

A normal life, without enemies, without superpowers, without contracts on her head. She didn't fight, respected the law (at least for the most serious and important things) and she considered herself to be a good person.

The first time she had passed Saint Agnes Orphanage, she hadn't really paid it much attention. The second time, she found it a little strange that an orphanage was in this part of the city, which was not really made for children.

Then one evening, when she had had a bad day, she realized that it was a bar and she decided to go in for a drink.

Since she thought an orphanage was strange in that place, she might have thought it was odd for a bar to have such a name. She could also have been scared when she saw the other customers, who all turned towards her, indicating that she might not be welcome.

But Y/N was tired, and she just wanted a drink before going home, so she smiled politely as she sat down at the counter.

The waiter frowned, but he agreed to serve her with a shrug, muttering that as long as she was an adult, it wasn't his problem.

A tall, bald, tattooed guy then approached her, putting a hand on her arm without worrying about her private space, asking her if she wanted to follow him home.

"… No thanks."

“Come on, don’t be a slut.”

"Please."

“Come with me, you stupid bitch.”

"Now, that's really not very nice. The lady said no, a gentleman should know it's time to leave. But no Hector, not only are you insisting, but you're being rude."

"Fuck you, Wade, don't get involved in this !"

The waiter continued to mumble about cleaning, while this Wade guy smashed Hector's head against the counter. A tooth even flew close to Y/N’s face.

That might have been enough to scare her completely. In addition to the surge of violence that was happening right next to her, there was the red suit, the katanas and other guns, which could make you want to flee as quickly as possible.

But when he finished kicking Hector's ass, Wade turned to her, and despite the mask, it was obvious that he was smiling, extending a hand towards her.

"Miss, my apologies for that boor. He knows nothing of good manners."

"… Thank you."

"You're very welcome, lovely angel ! Wade Wilson, Deadpool, Merc with a mouth, at your service ! Oh, he spilled your drink… Bad Hector ! Or was it me ? Maybe it was me. Weasel, the same for the little lady, on my note !”

“You already owe me a fortune.”

“I will kill whoever you want for free !”

“I thought you didn’t kill anymore.”

"Ah yes… I'll suck you for free !"

“Here you go, two drinks, just shup up Wade.”

In the end, Wade was a bit special, but not evil. He stayed with her, partly because he loved having someone to talk to, but also to make sure no one else was going to bother her again.

And he talked a lot. Everything he said didn't always make sense, he even seemed to be talking to himself sometimes, but he was funny. It seemed to please him that Y/N laughed at his jokes. Behind the counter, Weasel was still muttering that she was doing something silly.

Among the long tirade he delivered that evening, she understood that Wade had not had an easy life. That he had done some things that could make him a criminal, but he had been trying to improve for some time.

"Colossus already wanted me to become an X-men but it wasn't for me. Wait, there are X-men in this universe ? I do not know anymore. Anyway, there's Spidey and Devy. No, he's right, this nickname isn't great, Devil. Like Daredevil. They want us to be Team Red, but only if I stop unliving people. It's not fair because they're friends with Frank, and Frank keeps unliving people, but he lost his wife and his kids, so I guess he has more sympathy points than me."

"I don't understand everything, but I guess Spidey is Spiderman ?"

"Yes ! He's super cool ! And his ass ! People confuse us sometimes, it annoys me, but it's a bit of a compliment. He's my role model."

Like a true superhero, Deadpool insisted on taking her home. He was terribly honest, saying that he could leave her a few blocks away, but that was useless, because as a former mercenary, he was very good at stalking people and he could find her address without difficulty, even if he only had her name.

"Which I wouldn't do ! Normally. I might want to see you again, and ask Weasel to find your number, but I know myself, I'll put it in my phone, and I'll hesitate for weeks, then I'll send a lousy message, you'll be scared, you'll block me, I'll be ashamed and I'll shoot myself in the head because I'm a moron."

“I can give you my number.”

"And I… Huh ? Huh ?! For real ?!" exclaimed Wade, jumping like a child on Christmas Day.

Wade called her right away, specifying that it was not to verify that she was giving him a false number but a little. Despite the mask, his face showed surprise when he saw that she hadn't lied.

"I should put a bullet in my head to make sure I'm not dreaming."

“You wouldn’t wake up.”

“Baby girl, we only just met, there are a lot of things you don’t know about me.”

When Deadpool talked about shooting himself, he meant it literally. It often happened that he died, either because of an enemy, an accident, or by his own hand. But he always came back. A gift like a curse.

They became friends. It was obvious, and quite sad, that Wade didn't have many friends.

Most people around him couldn't stand him or were afraid of him. It was true that he could be quite unpredictable, especially when he got lost in his discussions with the boxes, or an imaginary audience. But he was never mean.

Weasel was more of a collaborator, Al was forced to accommodate him, and the other heroes, unable to get rid of him, tried to make him a nice guy.

And he was really nice. Crazy but adorable, funny and wanting to do well.

Very quickly, Y/N started to have a crush, and even more. Even after seeing him without a mask. He never took it off completely to eat, repeating that he didn't want her to lose her appetite or feel like throwing up.

But after landing in a trash can after a fight, and forgetting that he had invited her to watch Princess Bride, Y/N had seen him. Yes, his scars were a bit impressive, but they weren't that bad.

With an embarrassed smile, he waved his hand while remaining frozen near the entrance.

"… I can move if you want to run away. I won't follow you. I may look like Frankenstein's monster, but I only pursue young girls who ask me to. Or who deserve it. Because criminals have no gender, I don't discriminate."

“I brought popcorn.” was her only reaction.

"... Oh. Sweet ? Salty ? Caramel ? Al must have beer somewhere, hidden with the cocaine."

After that, he was a little less afraid to show his face, even though it was obvious he wasn't comfortable. It wasn't easy to reassure him, repeating that she didn't care about his appearance.

Y/N didn’t remember how they ended up having this conversation. The only thing she knew was that she was pressed against him, laughing, when she had innocently said it would be fun if they went out together.

This made Wade laugh, but a very serious laugh, leaving no chance and hitting where it hurt.

"You and me ? Ah ! No chance."

"Why ?"

"It's obvious."

A simple little sentence could sometimes do a lot of damage. Too busy making fun of the characters on the screen, Wade didn't see Y/N's look of sadness, just as he didn't feel her body stiffen.

Still, she should have expected this response. Of course it was obvious that they had nothing to do together. Deadpool was a super hero (in training), he was tall, muscular, funny, rich.

She had seen photos of his deceased ex, Vanessa. She had observed him flirting with beautiful women and men before. It was already fortunate that she was only friends with him.

So Y/N swallowed her pride, accepting the obvious, and not talking about the subject again.

But it was hard, because the more time passed, the stronger the feelings became.

It was even harder when Wade entered his depressive phases. He kept putting himself down, insulting himself and accepting insults from the boxes in his head. It took a lot of patience and perseverance to get him to put down his gun.

"Anyway, I'll come back later. Bad luck for the world. People would be happier if I wasn't here anymore. Maybe they'll miss me a little, for a few minutes."

“I would miss you, Wade.”

"Yeah… You say that because you're adorable, baby girl. But you'd be better off without me too. I'm a real drag."

“You saved me the first time we met.”

"And since then you think you owe me a debt. You know, every time we're in the street, the others look at me and they're afraid. If I wasn't there, you could be with them. You could have lots of friends.”

"I don't want lots of friends, Wade." Y/N sighed, taking him into her arms. “I’m glad we’re friends.”

“Oh, sweetie pie, me too !”

It was rarer for them to find themselves in the opposite situation. Not because Deadpool wasn't capable of empathy, but because she didn't like talking about her problems, preferring to keep everything to herself and cry out of sight.

Unfortunately, she had made the decision to become friends with a former mercenary who loved to jump from roof to roof, only to come visit without warning by tapping on the window.

Y/N had no time to hide her tears, holding back a sob as her eyes met those of Wade, who had stopped mid-movement, fist raised against his window.

He didn't hesitate before entering, terribly serious.

"Who ? Who did this ?"

“Wade…”

"Who made my baby girl cry ? I want a name. Spidey and Dev will understand. Yellow wants decapitation, White wants emasculation. Tell me who."

"It's really not necessary. It's not important."

“It’s important if you cry.” Deadpool growled as he looked around the apartment for clues.

Once he had an idea in his head, it was almost impossible to divert his attention. If it wasn't so important, it was possible with food or talking about Spiderman's butt. But this time he considered it very important.

Tired, Y/N thought that all she had to do was say that it was just a ridiculous heartbreak for him to calm down. He had no reason to kill someone just because they didn't love her back.

This actually seemed to calm him down a bit, as he patted his cheeks with his hands in a dramatic gesture.

"What ?! Someone doesn't love you ?! Someone doesn't like my sweet little angel ? Are they crazy or stupid. You deserve the best !"

"Actually… He's the one who's too good for me."

"Bullshit ! The important thing is love ! If a woman can marry a space duck, then everyone can be together, as long as it's legal and consensual !"

"… What ? No, wait, it doesn't matter. Wade, please forget it."

"A name. Let me prove to you that this fool doesn't deserve you, and not the other way around !"

"No."

"A name !"

"You ! It's you !"

For the first time since they met, Wade was silent for more than a minute, staring at her like he wasn't sure she was real. He often had hallucinations, so this happened to him.

Then he muttered incomprehensible things, probably speaking with his boxes to check that he had heard what she had just said.

"… Me ? As in, me ?"

“I know what you’re going to say.” Y/N sighed, wanting to disappear. "You've already said it, it's obvious that we're not meant to be together. You're charismatic, and strong, and funny, with powers. You save people, you have an extraordinary life, while I… I am me."

"… Baby girl. Do you have a fever ? Did you lose a bet ? Because… You saw me without a mask. You know I'm crazy and dangerous. There are several bounties on my head, I've unlived more people than the population of New York, and my favorite movie is Zoolander 2. When I said it was obvious… I meant that you were too good for me."

There had been a misunderstanding, each being convinced that the other could never want the other, because they were too different. But even though he was special, with skin problems and an inability to concentrate for more than ten minutes, Wade was much better than a space duck.

However, while she was sure of what she wanted, he hadn't clearly said what he expected next.

"I mean, if you just want to be friends, I'll understand."

"You can't tease me like that and then break my heart. Don't play with me, woman !"

“Wade…” Y/N sneered, as he gesticulated like a degenerate, declaiming his great love for her and her smile, the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

Taking advantage of his inattention, she approached him, until he froze when he felt her hands on his mask.

With a look, she asked him if she could take it off, and as he didn't move to stop her, she took it off first up to his nose, before hesitating.

Y/N didn’t want to make him uncomfortable, but she also didn’t want him to think that she didn’t want to see him if she didn’t go further. So she took out the whole mask, she observed Wade, smiling before kissing him.

"… Don't take what comes next as a bad thing." he whispered as their lips parted.

"What ?"

"I'm going to have a heart attack…"

As always, Y/N thought he was joking at first, until he collapsed in front of her, looking delighted even though his heart had stopped beating. Fortunately she was used to seeing him die, even if it was still a little traumatic.

It took almost an hour for him to wake up. Y/N had time to take a shower and make herself some tea, sitting on the couch to wait.

"Shit !" he shouted as he opened his eyes, looking around the apartment before looking at her. “Did we kiss ?”

“Yes and you died.”

"It's weird. Normally you go to heaven after you die, not before. But I probably don't have enough superhero points for heaven yet, so the other option is that I became totally crazy."

“Wade…”

"I know, White and Yellow would have told me. They're already saying that all the time, but they would have insisted, especially for me to escape from the asylum. It's no fun fighting with fake people and hippos. Was I dead long ?"

“No, a little over half an hour.”

"And you stayed with me, it's so cute. Nurse Y/N. No, Doctor Y/N, and I'll be Nurse Wilson. Oh, Doctor Y/N, I made a mistake in the dosage of a patient, I'm a bad nurse, punish me."

"… Let's see Nurse Wilson, we're in the middle of an intervention, calm down."

"Uh oh ! You're playing along !" Wade exclaimed, pouting from the ground. "I didn't expect that ! Wait, I need a blonde wig, and a white dress. You'll see, I look super sexy in a dress. Wait, we do this now or it's quick and we should have a date first ?'

“I wouldn’t say no to a date.”

"I see the genre, like in novellas. Doctor Y/N takes me to the restaurant to talk about my future promotion, but in fact, you are going to admit to me that I am pregnant with you, before I even enter your bed !"

“As long as you’re in my bed before the hundredth episode.”

“UH !”

The small, high-pitched cry of pleasure preceded a second cardiac arrest, Deadpool's mind imagining Y/N and him in a bed, with a stetoscope.

When she asked him if he was going to have a heart attack every time, he told her that he would probably die for good the day he saw her naked, or that they made love for the first time.

But Wade was a gentleman, he ate lots of vegetables, exercised, and begged Daredevil to teach him meditation techniques.

So he had the courtesy of having the next heart attack only after they were finished, and in the toilet. And every time after that they were together, Wade would go out of his way to just get a nosebleed.

Especially on Weasel's counter, telling him everything they had done or almost everything, which annoyed the poor waiter a lot, even if he knew that it would happened from the start, the moment he saw Deadpool with Y/N.

#deadpool #wade wilson #wade wilson x reader #deadpool x reader #deadpool fanfiction #deadpool imagine #wade wilson fanfiction #wade wilson imagine