#unfortunately that doesn't stop me from being insufferable about this

[thevoidstaredback]

Okay, so maybe giving his calling card to a kid was a bad idea. He sees that now. Unfortunately, it's too late to take it back. On the bright side, the kid wasn't going to be able to figure out who he is yet based solely on a summoning circle. In the pitch black void of things, Danny can sense the card and the person who's holding it.

Maybe if he leaves Fawcett fast enough he can keep plausible deniability because there's no way that the tiny homeless kid he just met is Captain Marvel. Nope, no way. Not his circus, not his monkeys. He's leaving now.

"What happened to you?" Deadman had an insufferable grin on his face. Did he have the House drop him in Gotham? Danny wouldn't put it past him.

"Don't wanna talk about it."

"Where ya going?"

"To the basement."

"Why?"

Was the other ghost always this annoying? "Because leaving was a terrible idea. I'm going to go hide in the basement until the day I fully die."

"Aw," Deadman tried to pout, but he failed and started to cackle. "Don't be like that. Did you not enjoy your trip to Gotham?"

Danny was a lot of things. Violent usually didn't make it onto that list. However, he was willing to make an assumption. "So it was your fault."

Another cackle. "Don't be like that! You've never been to Gotham before. You can't tell me you at least didn't have fun."

They were at the basement stairs now. "For your information, I have been to Gotham. I didn't get to do much exploring this time because Batman and his gaggle of sidekicks surrounded me!"

"You've been to Gotham?"

"Not important."

"Oh?" The glee on the full ghost's face made Danny uneasy. "I sense a story behind that."

Oh, no. "No. I'm not telling you." He marched past and down the stairs, not bothering to unlock or open the door.

"Please!"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because I said 'no'."

"Party pooper." he huffed. "You know I'm just going to keep asking, right?"

A sigh. "I'm not gonna cave. No."

"Ah, but you will!" That was the confidence of a ghost who knew he was right. Danny did not like how that bodes for him. "You, my friend, are a younger sibling. I am also a younger sibling."

Shit. "That....That means nothing. My answer will stay 'no'."

Deadman had the gall to chuckle darkly. "We'll see." Then, he disappeared.

Danny didn't sigh because he doesn't need to breathe. He was not going to tell what happened because what happens in Gotham stays in Gotham. It's a rule of thumb that people don't cross. Besides, Deadman doesn't know that Danny's actually the middle sibling. Dani, introduced to his parents soon after he'd told them he was a Halfa, was the embodiment of younger sibling because he had once been the embodiment of younger sibling.

***

"Please get Deadman to stop!" Danny begged Zatanna three weeks later. Maybe he'd overestimated himself a little bit.

The sorcerer raised an eyebrow as she looked up from the book she'd been reading. Something on runes? "What's he doing this time?"

"He won't stop asking me to tell him about my first trip to Gotham."

"You've been to Gotham?"

Danny groaned into the throw pillow he was clutching. "Yes. Please make him stop!"

"Sorry, hun," she focused back on her book, "But I can't see him."

"Oh. I forgot about that."

"Why don't you just tell him?"

Danny shot up, appalled by the very idea. "It's a matter of principle!" he exclaimed, "I am both the older and younger sibling: The middle child. If I give in, I'll have failed! I can't do that. Do you want me to fail?!"

"Okay, okay, geez!" she surrendered, "Don't gotta be so overdramatic about it."

"I'm not being overdramatic! I'm being just dramatic enough!"

"Sure, sure. Whatever you say, kid."

"I'm not a kid!"

"You look like one."

"Yeah, but I'm not! I'm-"

"King of the Infinite Realms," Constantine interrupted, "We know."

"Then don't call me a kid."

"Yeah, yeah, kid,"

"I'm not-!"

"Look, we can have this argument all day and we'll still end in a tie. I've got a case in San Francisco near Titan's Tower. Raven's coming along. Do you want to come with?"

"Don't you normally work solo?" Danny asked. Zatanna still hadn't looked back up from her book and he was pretty sure she'd tuned them out.

"Is that a 'no'?"

"No! No, I'll come with." Maybe having Constantine with him will deter the JL from hounding him. What do they even want with him? If they're upset that he died at fourteen, he's gonna scream.

The Brit smirked. "You sound almost desperate to get out."

"Shut up and let's go."

"Alright, alright."

Part 3 Part 5

Tag List: @zaiothe4th @someonebored0100 @wolfeyedwitch @angelheartgamer @nymanders

#writing #dp dc crossover #dc x dp #dp x dc #dcu #dc comics #dcxdp #dc #danny phantom #ghost king danny #john constantine #zatanna zatara #deadman #house of mystery #Enough Caffeine to Kill an Elephant

[mizu-nights]

# enemies to lovers

★ — char ; akito

★ — notes ; HIIII I'M DOING WELL I HOPE U ARE TOO!!! and tysm hehe i'm glad u like my theme <3 HOPE YOUR WEEK WASNT THAT BAD ^^ i've never written enemies to lovers before but i hope you enjoy nonetheless! also tgswiiwagaa pfp ... i haven't read it in a while but hai i love mitsuki :3

★ — notes (2) ; set in kamiyama/academic setting , not really enemies , open ending (?) , this ended up being a lot longer than expected ( T T )

★ — requested by ; @toadistoast

★ shinonome akito :

the reason why you're 'enemies' in the first place is just because of a terrible first impression of each other. akito tends to have another side to him when he's in front of new people, and unfortunately, that slipped when you two met.

then you were both convinced that one hated the other. i mean, why be friends with someone that dislikes you, right?

that was until both of you were paired together for a group project. you could literally hear the most annoyed groan ever from across the classroom once it was announced.

which you quickly returned with a similar pissed off scoff. neither of you tried to hide it, either.

it really didn't help that your friends would always tease you about how akito secretly has a crush on you.

"[name], akito has been staring at you a lot since it got announced you were partners... mayb-"

"oh, shut up... have you seen the way he looks at me? it's pure hatred!"

surprisingly, while working on the project together, you two... tolerated each other. turns out akito wasn't as bad as you thought—you were even willing to befriend him now.

"...are we friends now or-?"

"don't finish that question."

though, that little smile on akito's face was a good enough answer.

you still had your moments, though.

"jeez, this is so tiring..."

"...jeez, this is sooo tiring..."

"are you seriously mocking me right now."

as the days went by, the both of you ended up bonding. you learned about his dreams, his friends... plenty of things about him. he was actually rather admirable, maybe even charismatic?

you even found yourself missing him a bit once the project was over. nothing was stopping you from continuing talking to him, of course—you just didn't know how. there wasn't any reason to since the project was over.

you even took a bunch of horrible photos of akito just to piss him off. some of his forehead, some of him doing dumb things... and yet he still looked good in them. how unfair.

eventually, after a few minutes, you figured out that maybe, just maybe, admiring someone's photos like this might not be normal. or platonic at that.

scratch that, you were missing him a lot. not only that, but you might even have a crush on him now. how amazing.

and it seems like akito felt the same way since your phone randomly flashed open with a call notification from him, asking you to meet him at weekend garage tomorrow.

"oh? miss me already, akito? are you asking me out on a date?"

"...you're insufferable."

"yeah, yeah... i'll be there at 2pm."

if you listened closely, you could even hear a small chuckle from the other side of the phone.

as much as you hate to admit it, you really couldn't wait for tomorrow to arrive... how silly—it's only been a few days since you last 'hung out', and yet you can't wait until you see him once more.

love truly makes you feel peculiar things, doesn't it?

#akito shinonome #akito shinonome x reader #project sekai x reader #pjsk x reader #project sekai #pjsk #★ — you are my literature

[euovennia]

the archer | könig

so sorry to keep you all waiting (especially the anon who requested this), i got a bit too invested and this ended up being just over 8k words...whoops. anyway, it's finally here and i'm excited for you all to read it! thank you for requesting, and as always, i hope you enjoy <3 (also thank you for getting this blog to over 1,000 followers, that's insane!!! thank you so much!!!)

pairing: könig x fem!reader

warnings: angst, könig being a little toxic, brief mention of injuries, discussion about the insufferable behavior of dolphins

summary: the difficult journey of loving a man who doesn't think he's worthy of love (based on this request)

Combat, I’m ready for combat

I say I don’t want that, but what if I do?

‘Cause cruelty wins in the movies

I’ve got a hundred thrown-out speeches I almost said to you

König rises from his makeshift bed on the floor with a sharp gasp as his left hand raises itself from his side to rest upon his heart that seemed to be beating too fast and too slow all at once. His eyes briefly fall onto the sleeping faces of his fellow comrades as he lets out a few shaky breaths in an attempt to calm himself down from the unfortunate dream he’d stirred awake from. After a few moments of half-assed breathing exercises and clenching and unclenching the hand that wasn’t resting upon his chest, he can almost feel his body become lighter as his panic slowly begins to fizzle out into something calmer. Even so, he can’t help but notice the small spike of dread that tugs at his heartstrings when the image of you settles into his mind. The feeling is illogical, that much he knows, but as his gaze drifts over to the door of the master bedroom in the safe house the team was currently occupying, he can’t seem to stop his mind from spiraling. Once ensuring his infamous black hood is properly secured over his face, he quietly rises to his feet before stalking off toward the door of the master bedroom and opening it. He gives the room a quick glance before fully stepping into the room and shutting the door behind him. His eyes trail along the rundown walls of the room before eventually landing on your figure that’s sitting on the cushioned seats of the window nook as you peer into the darkness of the night, gun propped up by your side along with a small leather bound journal with the accompanying pen being expertly twirled around your nimble fingers. Not wanting to stare any longer in an effort to avoid coming across as creepy, he begins walking closer in your direction before stopping just a few feet shy of you.

You don’t spare him a glance as you begin to speak, “You’re up late.”

He shrugs, “Bad dream.”

You offer him a small hum before tearing your gaze away from the window and give the open spot beside you a few pats. He eyes you for a few moments before stepping forward and taking a seat beside you, body stiff and face expressionless. Not that you’d be able to tell the difference anyway.

You lean against the wall as you nudge his thigh with your boot causing the muscle to twitch. You pretend not to notice.

“What was your dream about?”

His lips settle into a small frown before responding, “It’s not important.”

He rips his gaze away from you in favor of staring at the floorboards and he misses the way you roll your eyes in exasperation.

“So you just like being in here with me then?”

Yes.

He shakes his head, “No. Just wanted to check on you, make sure you didn’t fall asleep.”

A huff of laughter escapes you, “That was one time–”

He interrupts you, “One time too many, I’m afraid.”

You raise your hands in defense before continuing, “Well…You’ve checked on me and now you know I’m not asleep. You’re free to leave now, König.”

He clenches his fists once more upon hearing his callsign fall from your lips. Surely you know what you do to him, right?

“I’d rather not.”

You quirk a brow up, “Why not?”

He keeps his gaze steady on the ground, “I’m not tired.”

Him not being tired is a perfectly reasonable thing to say. At least, it would’ve been if he hadn't let a massive yawn slip past his lips the moment he told the small fib.

“Not tired, hm?”

He can’t help but feel thankful for the hood that’s currently draped over his head, less opportunity for you to see the blush that dusts across his face as he tries to ignore the way your eyes pierce into him.

Upon receiving no response you sit up straighter, “Is this about your dream?”

The way he seems to close in on himself tells you everything. Your lips pull into a small frown as you fidget with your hands, willing yourself to say something.

“I’m afraid of dolphins,” You blurt out.

Your expression morphs into one of mild embarrassment as his eyes snap over to you, a curious glint shining back at you.

It’s hard to miss the incredulity in his tone as he speaks, “What?”

You firmly plant your hands against your knees as you continue, “Dolphins scare me.”

A small smile tugs at the edge of his lips, “Wait till you hear about sharks.”

“I’m actually not afraid of sharks.”

His eyes widened in surprise, “Really? How’d you manage that?”

You let out a small exhale, “I’ve done a fair bit of research into sharks and dolphins over the years, and I’ve found that dolphins are infinitely more terrifying than sharks.”

He straightens out his back, intrigued as he motions for you to continue with a wave of his hand.

“Dolphins are really horny–”

He can’t hold back the small bout of laughter that falls from his lips, “That’s why you’re scared of them?”

You frantically shake your head as you try to fight back a smile, “No it’s not ‘cause of that, you didn’t let me finish!”

“Well then you better hurry or else I’m gonna think you’re scared of dolphins cause they like sex.”

You ignore the heat that spreads through your cheeks as you continue, “It’s their horniness that makes them scary. Male dolphins have a high sex drive, and sometimes it makes them a bit…aggressive in their approach for sex.”

König nods his head in understanding at your words before you continue speaking, “They’ve been known to murder their own offspring so they can immediately be ready for another pregnancy. Hell, sometimes they’ll even go around murdering other aquatic animals and their babies just for fun!”

König’s eyes widen at your statement, “Really?”

You nod, “Yes! Sometimes they get so bored that they’ll start going around killing other animals just to have some fun. They always make it so brutal too.”

He cringes, “Didn’t think they did all that. I always thought they were cute.”

You scrunch your nose in distaste, “Absolutely not. Besides, I’m not alone in my fear of dolphins. Sharks are actually quite scared of them too. They’ve even been known to check their surroundings to make sure there aren’t any dolphins around before they sleep because dolphins will actually hunt them if food’s been scarce.”

König leans against the wall behind him, “That’s heavy.”

“It is, isn’t it? Dolphins are jerks.”

He nods in agreement, “Dolphins are jerks.”

A comfortable silence pervades the room as you take a few moments to peer out through the window as his mind steadily falls back into the throes of his all too familiar dream. A grimace comes to rest upon his face as his mind begins to wander off from the anti-dolphin rhetoric newly placed in his head by you in favor of staring at his hands, the same hands that have delivered death to dozens of enemy soldiers who were up to no good.

At least that’s what he tells himself as he continues to stare down at his hands, but after a few moments, he can’t help but notice the heaviness that begins to weigh down on his chest.

They were all bad people up to no good…right?

He lets out an exasperated sigh causing you to turn your attention back on the large man beside you.

“What’s on your mind, König?”

He nearly cries in frustration. How could he resist telling you anything when you call his name so sweetly? He plants his hands on his thighs as he keeps his gaze steady on the floor.

“Do you think we’re good people?”

Your brows scrunch together in confusion as your head tilts to the side.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean–”

He lets out a small sigh as he attempts to gather his thoughts together.

“–With the things we do…Our job. Do you think we’re good people?”

The confusion on your face smoothes out.

“I think so. We’re helping the world, aren’t we?”

König breaks his focus from the floor to look up at you.

“Is it really that simple though? Are we really able to write off all the horrible things we’ve done to other people just because we help another group of people? Do we have that authority?”

As his small line of questioning comes to a close, your eyes settle on your rifle that’s pressed up against the wall beside you. You let out a small breath of air as you start to speak.

“Well, when you put it like that, maybe we aren't such good people.”

His gaze falters.

“But I don’t think we’re bad people either.”

The question tumbles from his lips before he can do anything to stop it, “Do you think I’m a good person?”

He watches as your eyes glaze over with something he’s not quite able to distinguish, something soft.

“I think you’re a good person,” You quietly admit before turning the question back on him, “Do you think you’re a good person?”

He fights off the urge to gnaw on his bottom lip.

“I try to be.”

You offer him a gentle smile, “Then that’s all that matters.”

He seems to think about your words for a few moments before giving you a slow nod.

“That’s all that matters,” He affirms.

You reach over and grab onto his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze before pulling away and turning your focus back onto the window. He looks down at that same hand, a familiar warmth he found could only be provided by you as he tries to slow the way his heart threatens to beat out of his chest. He takes in a few deep breaths before looking back up at you and admiring the way the moonlight seems to caress your features. He presses his lips together in a thin line as he recalls the countless speeches he’d scrawled on random pieces of paper neatly tucked away in his desk drawer at his apartment. With you vigilantly keeping watch beside him, he can’t help but wonder if one day he’ll ever let you read them.

Easy they come, easy they go

I jump from the train, I ride off alone

I never grew up, it’s getting so old

Help me hold onto you

“Please say something,” You practically beg as you stare up at König who seems to have frozen in place.

Despite the overwhelming urge he has to lift the hood up off his face, place his large hands on your cheeks, and pull you toward him in a loving kiss, he finds that he can’t bring himself to do such a thing.

Everything just feels so wrong. The once soft and warm glow from the lights above the two of you fill his very being dread as they seem to cast a daunting shadow over your figure he swears hadn’t previously been there. The bright white walls of the building seem to fade into a dismal shade of grey as his eyes catch onto the multiple cracks and stains that litter them; had the walls always looked this miserable? He can practically feel his skin go up in flames as he becomes all too aware of the clothes he’s wearing. He had dressed himself in some of his most comfortable clothes, so why did they suddenly feel so tight and suffocating as they clung to his body?

And you.

When did your soft and loving eyes turn into two cesspools of unbridled fear and anxiety? Where have your kind eyes gone? Why are you looking at him like that? Is it because he hasn’t said anything since you’d pulled him aside and put all your cards on the table? Is it because you told him you had fallen in love with him and he didn’t even have the decency to utter a single word in response? Do you hate him for it?

With every second that ticks by, he can feel his composure slipping away as he feels your stare melt into him. It’s become far too much to handle far too quickly. He needs to get away. Get away from the walls that he can just feel closing in on him. Get away from the floor that he practically begs to swallow him whole. Get away from the one who haphazardly ripped his carefully crafted walls down and forced him to feel so exposed and turn into such a pitiful disaster.

He needs to get away from you.

And so without even bothering to spare you a glance, he quickly maneuvers around your body and walks away from the conversation in hopes of finding refuge somewhere else. Anywhere but here. Anywhere away from you.

He doesn’t.

I’ve been the archer

I’ve been the prey

Who could ever leave me, darling?

But who could stay?

The past two weeks had been nothing short of miserable, courtesy of König. Ever since he’d left you stranded in that godforsaken hallway, you’d made it your personal mission to track him down in even the most bizarre places around base. In fact, you can distinctly remember how he’d nearly fallen off the roof of a building he’d climbed on top of after you came up behind him and tapped him on the shoulder with no warning. Even after you’d grabbed onto his arm and helped him regain his footing, he merely ripped his arm away from you before climbing back down the building, but not before glaring down at you with his eyes narrowed in a look of contempt. It would’ve hurt more if you hadn’t already become used to it.

Despite his unbothered exterior that only became bothered when you were around, he wasn’t faring any better. If he wasn’t forced into seeing the look of anguish that flooded your irises every time he turned away from you, he was forced to see it in his memory as he recalled the way he selfishly left you to pick up the pieces of the heart he shattered when he made the decision to leave you all alone in that hallway. The same hallway that he now has to practically run through in a feeble attempt to fend off the sinking feeling that festers deep within his very being.

By no means was he proud of the way he was treating you, he despised it. Truth be told, he wanted nothing more than to sweep you up into his arms and guard you with his life but he couldn’t bring himself to do such a thing. No, not with the line of work the two of you had found yourselves in. Not when you were forced to tread the line of death every couple of weeks to fulfill a mission that, ultimately, would be forgotten about in just a few months time, if even that.

He’d seen the strain put on relationships as a result of the job in the form of the various failed romances his fellow soldiers had pursued. Lack of communication, not living up to your partner’s expectations, and the all too common issue of infidelity. While each was unfortunate, there was one thing that he himself could barely wrap his head around; the death of your significant other. He played witness to the way the surviving half of the relationship always seemed to crumble in on themselves as the dreaded news fell onto them far too many times. He knew it was a special kind of pain, one he doubted he’d ever recover from if it was him on the receiving end of such a tumultuous life event. He knew it was silly in a way. How can one be a soldier and not be comfortable with death? He’s not quite sure himself, but he simply chooses to ignore it. The day he feels comfortable with death is the day he officially loses himself.

The thought almost makes him chuckle.

Lose myself, he thinks, Haven’t I done that already?

He lays on his back as he stares up at the ceiling, hood pulled off his head and discarded on the small end table beside his bed. He remains silent as his mind thinks back to the conversation you had with him months ago.

“Do you think I’m a good person?”

“I think you’re a good person…Do you think you’re a good person?”

“I try to be.”

The memory is almost enough to make him start ripping his hair out with his bare hands. You saw him struggling with himself, with his morality, and you, perhaps one of the kindest souls he’s ever come to know, reached out and placated him with your loving gaze and gentle reassurance. You offered him a guiding light of hope in his moment of darkness. And how had he repaid you? By becoming the cold and callous monster he had always thought himself to be? By taking all of his worst fears and projecting them onto you? How can you claim him as a good person when it seems he’s indifferent to the way his recent mean streak affects you so deeply? He can’t help but wonder what you think of him now. Do you resent him for treating you so poorly? Do you wish you could take back your previous judgment of him? The thought of you regretting the words that once brought him great comfort is almost too much to bear, but he knows he can’t blame you if you do.

His bout of self-loathing is broken by the abrupt sound of his door slamming open. He quickly sits up in his bed, eyes wide with alarm and body stiff with anxiety. He can feel his heart begin to beat out of his chest before his eyes land on you standing in his doorway, jaw slack and face painted with nerves. He’s almost tempted to ask why you’re staring at him that way until he feels the slightest breeze brush against his face, his bare face that you’re now gawking at. He tears his eyes away from your frozen figure before landing on the hood sitting on his bedside table, taunting him.

“König…I’m so s–”

The meek sound of your voice pushes him over the edge and before he can stop himself he abruptly stands up from his place on the bed before staring down at you with a fire in his eyes.

“Get. Out,” He practically seethes.

You back up from him by a few inches as you try not to stumble over your next words, “I didn’t mean to…I didn’t–”

Your weak attempt at explaining yourself is cut off by his cruel tone, one you’d quickly realized was specially reserved for those he didn’t trust; enemies.

“What don’t you understand? I don’t want you here, you’re not welcome.”

You try your best to not let his words affect you so much, but what else are you supposed to do when the man you love doesn’t want you?

“König please, no. I just,” You take in a shaky breath as you blink away the small line of tears that well up in your eyes, “I just wanted to talk. To hear your voice. I miss you.”

A part of you expects him to soften up, to look down at you and wrap his arms around you as he whispers an endless stream of apologies in your ear. What he does instead nearly crushes you.

“I don’t care.”

It’s as if the Earth stops spinning on its axis as his words sink in. This time you don’t bother to blink away the tears that blur your vision, you let them cascade down your cheeks. It’s embarrassing. You can’t help but feel like a fool. How could you ever expect someone as wonderful as him to love someone like you? The pain in your chest is too much. You find you can’t bring yourself to spare him another glance as you turn around on your heel and hurry out of his room, one hand firmly placed on your chest as if to stop the hurt that consumes you while your other hand wipes away the tears that are freely falling down your face. You don’t bother stopping when the concern of your fellow teammates falls onto your ears. It hurts too much.

With his eyes locked on the empty space in his doorway you occupied just a few moments ago, he takes a few steps forward and shuts the door before taking a seat on the edge of his bed. He stares numbly at the wooden floorboards pressed against his socked feet before he catches a glimpse of his hood out the corner of his eye. He reaches forward and grabs onto it, mindlessly toying with the edges of the fabric.

He had finally shown you the monster.

Dark side, I search for your dark side

But what if I’m all right, right, right, right here?

And I cut off my nose just to spite my face

Then hate my reflection for years and years

After the last disastrous encounter you had with König, you quickly decided it was best for you to keep your distance. The days of you actively seeking him out in hopes of smoothing things over were long gone and you instead filled up your newfound free time by busying yourself with various tasks around base all the while, unbeknownst to you, König had his eyes locked onto you. Granted, it’s not something he’s proud of. How could he be after he practically banished you from all aspects of his life? It wasn’t his place. Even so, he couldn’t help the way his eyes subconsciously seemed to seek out your presence in every room he stepped in. A part of him told him it was because he wanted to know which area of the room to avoid, but a bigger part of him knew it was because he missed you.

Hypocritical bastard, he chastises himself, You brought this on yourself.

And despite knowing that to be fact, he still can’t seem to rip his eyes away from you. It’s a habit that brings him both shame and comfort. Shame because it’s a harsh reminder of the one he deprived himself of, but comfort in knowing you were still kind and gracious as ever despite his insensitive behavior. It’s a blessing and a curse for it was the kindness you extended to him with no hesitation that first made his heart flutter. Your good-hearted nature and willingness to put in the time and effort to become his friend is something he holds very near and dear to his heart, it was one of the many reasons he fell so hopelessly in love with you. The way your eyes would sparkle as you’d wait for him to gather his thoughts, not once showing an ounce of annoyance or even a glimmer of impatience as you hung onto every word and syllable that fell from his mouth, he couldn’t help but feel grateful. Grateful that someone was so determined, so willing to become his friend that they’d suffer through the short and sometimes frequent bouts of silence as he tried to verbalize all his thoughts and opinions. It didn’t help that you were so gorgeous.

But now as he sits alone in the corner of the mess hall, tray filled with perhaps some of the most unappetizing food available on the planet, he fears that it was all for nothing. All the energy you’d spent solely on trying to understand him, now worthless as you purposefully avoid his gaze despite the goosebumps that rise along your skin. He tells himself it’s for the better, that eventually, you’d leave him. Whether it be by the unforgiving hands of war or the desire to go out and find someone new, someone better. The thought of you moving on from him like that hurt more than he’d ever care to admit.

But seeing the way you welcome a few other soldiers to your table with your signature grin, he couldn’t fight off the small smile that tugged at the edge of his lips. He watches as you fall into easy conversation with the unfamiliar men and women, each of their faces sporting an effortless smile as you do seemingly everything in your power to make them as comfortable as possible around you. You’ve always been sweet like that.

And despite the way his heart warms seeing you fall back into your natural habits, a small stab of pain makes itself apparent in his chest as he comes to the stark realization that you’re too good for him, too pure. The sudden awareness of this is almost enough to make him sick to his stomach. How can he allow himself to taint such a bright, shining light in favor of lighting up his own dark and lonely path? Truth is, he couldn’t. Not when it was you. If anything, he’d rather you ignore his looming presence for all eternity if it meant you got to remain bright and shiny. He could brave the torrential storm that was his mind on his own, as long as you were safe and happy.

With this in mind, he picks up his half eaten tray of food and dumps it in the trash bins before walking toward the exit of the mess hall. He allows himself one last glance of your smiling face as you animatedly talk about god knows what. He’d hate himself for this later when he’s alone and overthinking in the comfort of his own room, but for now, he lets your bright smile engrave itself into his memory.

I wake in the night, I pace like a ghost

The room is one fire, invisible smoke

And all of my heroes die all alone

Help me hold onto you

It wasn’t uncommon for members of the team to be hand-picked for a mission, especially if the mission presented itself to be relatively simple. So when he heard just over a week ago that you departed base along with a few other soldiers he’d seen around base, he didn’t really give it much thought. Of course there was a small pool of worry that bubbled up in his stomach, but by this point he’d worked with you on the field so much that there wasn’t a shred of doubt in terms of your capability to get the mission completed. Rarely was there ever a time where you came back from a mission with anything more than a couple bumps and bruises, it was standard.

But the moment he walked into the common room only to be met with the somber expressions of his teammates one afternoon, he knew something had gone wrong. He anxiously listened as one of the men occupying the room explained that the mission you and a few others had gone on to retrieve valuable intel about a newly formed terrorist group had actually turned out to be a ruse to get you in their line of fire so they could eliminate you. It felt as if the world had come crashing down so as soon as he was made aware of what hospital you were being treated at, he didn’t hesitate to turn around and make his way over to you as quickly as possible.

As if the pure horror of the situation wasn’t bad enough already, the ache that spread throughout his body was only amplified when he finally arrived at the hospital just to be told you were currently in surgery. As much as he wanted to go to the surgical floor and rip apart every room until he found you, he forced himself to stay in check before resigning himself to a chair that was far too small for him to get comfortable in. He didn’t mind, however, he’d happily sit on a pile of nails if it meant getting the chance to see you once more.

He wasn’t sure how long he’d been sitting on the chair in the stuffy waiting room looking desperate and forlorn, all he seemed to be able to focus on at the moment was the nervous twitch of his hands every few minutes. A few of the other members from the team have since joined him in the waiting room, each busying themselves by tapping and swiping away at their phones. He didn’t think to bring his, he was too busy worrying about you.

After what felt like an unreasonably long time, König’s attention broke at the sound of your last name being called out. He quickly shot up without his chair and made his way over to the surgeon who was still clad in their scrubs with a disposable mask hung around their neck.

“Her injuries were rather significant so it was touch and go for a while, but she managed to pull through,” The man announced with a reassuring smile.

König didn’t even have to think about his reply, “So what happens now?”

The doctor glanced down at his watch before responding, “She’s due to wake up in a few minutes. She’s still coming down from the anesthesia so she’ll be a bit out of it, but that shouldn’t last longer than an hour, maybe even a bit less than that. A nurse will come out shortly and she’ll be able to take you to see her.”

He nods, “Thank you.”

The surgeon offers him a small smile before walking away leaving König to bask in his own thoughts. All of the hurt, anger, and dread that made itself at home in the depths of his being seemed to melt away at the prospect of him soon being able to see you, alive and breathing. The pure relief that washed over him was almost enough to forget about his piss poor treatment of you.

He’s startled by a gentle tap on his shoulder. He looks in the direction of where the timid touch had come from and he comes face to face with a woman dressed in dark purple scrubs and a caring smile on her face.

“Are you ready to see her?”

He simply nods.

The walk to your room is quiet as it is short. It makes him feel uneasy. Even in your loopy state, what would your reaction be to seeing him? Would you be happy, or would you rightfully scorn him into oblivion with a sharp glare and words dipped in poison? He couldn’t say, and it shook him to his core.

He offers the polite nurse a small nod of his head before stepping into the harshly lit room, his mind going blank as soon as he lays his eyes on you. His eyes roam over your body. From the bruises that blossom across your soft skin, the cuts that falsely state their claim over your body, the superficial burn markings that run up and down your arms, all the way to the wad of gauze firmly taped to your chest underneath your hospital gown. He can’t help but recall the words of the soldiers who sat patiently beside him in the waiting room.

“Just a couple more inches to the left and the bullet woulda nicked her heart.”

The thought of it makes him cringe. He grabs onto a chair and gingerly pulls it up to your bedside before taking a seat. His eyes slowly rake up your body as he takes in your various injuries before his gaze settles on your face. In spite of the cuts and bruises present, he can’t help but the way his heart all but flutters. He studies the curves of your face, a familiar warmth that only you could bestow upon him spreading to every corner of his body. He brings a careful hand up to the slope of your jaw and he allows his fingers to gently trail along the soft skin before eventually stopping just beneath the delicate skin of your lips. His fingers gently caress the outer corner of your lips before quickly yanking them back when you begin to stir, a soft groan of pain voiced into the air. He watches with great interest as your eyes begin to flutter open before settling onto him.

You stare at him for a moment almost in disbelief before calling out to him, “König?”

His hand quickly finds its place in yours, “I’m here.”

Your hand grips his tighter as your mind remains hazy, “Will you stay?”

The hand that wasn’t latched in yours finds its way back up to your face as he rests it carefully across your cheek, “Just until you fall asleep again, maus.”

You can’t find it in yourself to dissect his words as you offer him a simple smile. A smile that refuses to leave his mind even as he disconnects himself from you once more after you’ve fallen asleep. A smile he’ll hold onto until the end of time.

‘Cause they see right through me

They see right through me

They see right through

Can you see right through me?

They see right through

They see right through me

I see right through me

I see right through me

Despite it only being your second day back on base after spending the previous five days cooped up in your overly sterile hospital room, the team received an urgent mission, a mission that required the assistance of nearly everyone on the team. Word of this mission spread through the team like wildfire before eventually reaching you. While you were a bit disheartened that the friends who had become more like family to you weren’t able to be around for your recovery, you didn’t mind. The job comes first and you were fine with it.

Your commanding officer however, wasn’t. It was bad enough that you were out of commission due to his misjudgement of a mission, but he felt it was even worse to leave you stranded when you needed them most. As a result, he had gone up to König with the special request of having him stay back on base to help take care of you. He didn’t have it in his heart to say no.

So here you were, sitting in an awkward silence with König over some takeout he’d gotten you both for dinner. He had his hood pulled up just enough to reveal his mouth so he could eat. When you caught sight of this, you nearly opened your mouth to suggest he take it off completely, but your voice died in your throat as soon as you remembered what happened the last time you saw him without his black hood. Disheartened by the memory, you pack up the last bit of food and push it away from you. He looks up at you with an inquisitive stare that makes you feel smaller than normal.

You clear your throat, “I’m going to change my bandages.”

He eyes you down for a few moments longer before nodding his head. You can barely hold back a sigh of relief the moment his piercing gaze removes itself from your body and instead focuses itself on his food. Pulling yourself up from your seat, you begin making your way over to the bathroom. Once inside, you close the door behind you before pulling out the bag filled with all of the ointments, gauze, and bandages you’d received from your stay at the hospital. You worked diligently as your hands worked on providing much needed aid to the various wounds scattered around your body. After dropping the roll of gauze too many times to count and contorting your body to reach wounds that were particularly tricky to reach, you felt yourself beam with contentment as you found you were nearly done. There was only one more wound to dress up. Unfortunately, it was on your back. Already knowing that you wouldn’t be able to reach it on your own, you swallowed your pride as you reached for the doorknob and slowly pulled it open.

Praying he was still within hearing range, you called out, “König?”

The silence that spread through the room was thick with unease as you waited for a response in the form of something, anything. Thankfully it came in the form of König’s boots creaking against the wooden flooring of the building before he eventually reached you, his head tilted to the side in a questioning manner.

“I need help changing my bandage,” You sucked in a sharp breath, “It’s on my back, I can’t reach it.”

He eyes you for a few moments longer before nodding and you take a step back as you allow him to push open the door of the bathroom. You face your body toward the mirror and watch in the reflection as his hands seem to twitch the moment he realized he’d have to pull your shirt up.

He swallows, “May I?”

You try to fend off the burning sensation that begins to build in your cheeks, “Please.”

You hear him take in a small, shaky breath before his fingers grab onto the thin fabric of your t-shirt before he lifts it up, just enough to reveal the old bandage currently covering your wound. You feel his fingers on the bare skin of your lower back as he reaches forward and begins to delicately peel off the gauze taped to your back. You try your best to not think about having his hands roam all over your body. It doesn’t work. You can feel your heart rate pick up as he reaches an arm around your waist to grab onto an antiseptic wipe.

You look down at his hand as he holds it out to you, “Can you open it?”

You nod as you raise your hand to take the packet from his hand, your fingers brushing against each other’s, “Sure.”

You make quick work of ripping the packet open with your hands before looking up into the mirror, your heart nearly coming to a full stop as you see him with his gaze already fixated on you.

You can’t stop the words from tumbling out of your mouth, “Do you hate me?”

He reaches forward and grabs the packet from your fingers, his hand resting over yours for a moment longer than necessary before pulling it away from you completely. For a moment you fear he won’t reply, but his response comes in the form of five soft spoken words.

“I could never hate you.”

All the king’s horses, all the king’s men

Couldn’t put me together again

‘Cause all of my enemies started out friends

Help me hold onto you

After two weeks, the team finally arrived back from their mission. It was a joyous occasion being able to see the faces of your little family again, but you had quickly come to notice that the room was short of one member.

König.

It didn’t come to you as a huge surprise. You figured that once the team came back he wouldn’t hesitate to start ignoring you again, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt. And as much as you wanted to ignore the situation entirely, you couldn’t help but feel betrayed. König, your once dear and soft-spoken friend, had turned into someone else entirely in the blink of an eye. The quiet, late night conversations you sought each other out for completely meaningless as he proudly voiced out the disgust he had for you. Your knowledge of all his likes and dislikes, the silly inside jokes you shared, as well as his deepest secrets now laid stagnant in your mind never to be utilized again. And for what? Because he couldn’t bear the thought of you anymore? Because he didn’t want to see you? It made you fall into a pit of anger and self-pity all at once and you needed answers. Maybe that’s why you’re standing outside his door at two am, fist balled up as you incessantly knock at his door.

You air out a small sigh of annoyance, “I can see the light from your lamp under the door. Open up.”

Ready to start rapping your knuckles against the wooden door once more, you begin to raise your fist but stop when you can hear some rustling on the other side of the door. You lower your fist to your side and wait with a stoic expression on your face before you can hear the click of the lock being undone. The door slowly opens and you’re soon met with the hooded figure of König. You don’t give him a chance to speak before your hands are firmly placed against his abdomen and you begin to push him back much to his bewilderment. Satisfied with his new placement in the room, you quickly lean back and lock the door before turning to face him with a heated glare with your arms crossed over your chest. Once his surprise has set aside he opens his mouth to speak, but you beat him to the punch.

“What did I do wrong?”

He already knows what you’re referring to by those five simple words, but he can’t bring himself to talk about it. He refuses to. Ready to try and disarm you with carefully picked words, he takes a few steps toward you and reaches a timid hand out to you. Unfortunately for him, you swat it away.

“No, you don’t get to touch me. Not when you’ve treated me as badly as you have the past few weeks.”

He feels his heart sink to his stomach, but still decides to try and feign confusion.

“What do you–”

Your groan of frustration is enough to make him stop his sentence midway.

You heave in a sigh as you look up at him, “Don’t do that.”

He stares down at you in confusion.

“That thing you do. The one where you act like you don’t know what the other person’s talking about so you can save yourself from having an uncomfortable conversation. I know that’s what you’re doing and I need you to stop.”

He should’ve known he wouldn’t have been able to slip something as juvenile as that past you.

“Okay,” He concedes, “Okay.”

You release a sigh of relief at his willingness to cooperate, hopefully this would end better than you originally planned.

“Look, I know I disgust you, and that’s fine. I already know there’s–”

König steps forward, “You don’t disgust me.”

You halt all your movements as you look up at him, “What?”

“I said you don’t disgust me.”

You scoff, “What, so you just go around treating all your friends like shit then? Is that it?”

Even with the hood, it doesn’t take much to know that he’s frowning.

“I didn’t–”

You can feel yourself inching closer toward the edge as you point an accusing finger up at him, “Don’t say you didn’t mean it. Don’t you fucking dare.”

He feels the words die out in his throat as the sinking feeling in his stomach worsens.

You resign your hand to rest by your side as you speak, “You know, it’s one thing to feel awkward and leave a conversation because you don’t know what to say, but it’s a whole other thing to leave the conversation and then start treating that person like a pile of shit afterwards.”

He remains quiet so you take that as your cue to continue.

“I knew going into it that telling you how I felt might cause some problems, but I didn’t think you’d hate me for it. For god's sake, König, if you really didn’t feel the same you could’ve just said so. You didn’t have to walk away and stop being my friend,” You let out a shaky breath, “Is it really so bad to be loved by me? Is the idea of it so disgusting that you can’t handle being around me anymore? Is that it? Because if it is, you should’ve let me know a long time ago rather than let me roam around following you like an idiot,” Your hands begin to shake as you avert your gaze away from him, “God I…I wish you just told me you didn’t love me back.”

As the last few words of your overdue rant fall from your lips, he takes a closer look at your face and he finds he almost regrets doing so. The quiver of your lip accompanied by the tears that threaten to spill over breaks his heart. He briefly wonders if this is what you felt like the entire time.

He gulps before taking a few hesitant steps toward your distraught figure. Once close enough, he reaches his arms out and gently places them on your shoulders for a few moments before slowly bringing you closer to his body and wrapping you up in a hug. Throwing all caution to the wind, you merely cling onto him and bury your face in his chest as the tears finally spill over. He holds you tenderly, his hands running up and down the curve of your back in an attempt to soothe you. You remain in his arms for more than a few minutes before eventually pulling back with his arms still wrapped tightly around you. You bring a careful hand up to his head, your fingers ghosting the edge of his hood.

“Your face…I need to see your face,” You all but plead.

Who is he to deny you of him any longer?

He gives you a small nod before bending down a bit allowing you to get a better grip on the black cloth. Slowly, you begin to peel it away from his face and the moment your eyes take him in for all that he is, you’re grateful that he’s holding onto as tight as he is. You don’t even realize as the fabric slips from your hands and falls to the floor, far too enamored by the freckles that dot his pale face and the wisps of hair that frame his face. You slowly reach up and rest a hand on his cheek as your eyes slowly roam across his face, taking in every detail of him.

“You’re gorgeous,” You whisper.

You feel honored to stand witness to the way his face grows hot under your hand as a prominent blush works its way onto his cheeks. He stares down at you, lips pulled into a small frown before he speaks in a quiet voice.

“I’m sorry, maus.”

You can’t help but ask, “Why’d you do it?”

He allows a hand to drop from your waist and move up to yours, his first and middle finger finding its place on your pulse.

“I can’t love you,” He pulls you closer to him, “Just to end up losing you. I don’t think I’d ever recover.”

Your hand slowly falls from his cheek in favor of trailing your fingers along his jaw, “You wouldn’t lose me.”

“I lose everyone eventually.”

Your fingers make their way to the outer line of his lips, “I’m scared of losing you too, König, but the idea of losing you knowing I never got the chance to love you scares me even more.”

His breath hitches, “You deserve better.”

You shake your head, “I deserve you. I want you.”

His body freezes, he can barely think.

You move your fingers away from his lips in favor of wrapping them up in his hair as you speak once more, “I want you to want me.”

He gulps, “I’ve always wanted you.”

“Then show me.”

Upon receiving your reassurance, he surges forward and connects his lips with yours in a sweet kiss.

I’ve been the archer

I’ve been the prey

Who could ever leave me, darling?

But who could stay?

(I see right through me, I see right through me)

Who could stay?

Who could stay?

Who could stay?

You could stay

You could stay

taglist: @merakiaes @kaauyyq2

#call of duty #call of duty modern warfare 2 #cod mw2 #cod #mw2 #mw2 2022 #cod mw2 fanfic #cod mw2 imagine #könig mw2 #könig x reader #könig #könig x y/n #konig x reader #konig #not sure what other tags to add tbh #angsty #idk #:)

[lunaevangeline]

to belong

{Kuroo Tetsurou x fem!reader}

Written for Luna @writingbymoonlight ♡

Summary: bawling over your cheater ex is a waste, your childhood friend knows what to do (tw: mention of cheating)

It's been a long time since the last time Kuroo visited your family's house. Summer break is on the way but you were depressed, locking yourself in the bedroom and being silent every meal time. Your worried mom called the last emergency contact she had, Kuroo Tetsurou, your best friend, your childhood friend.

She knows he's the only one who can deal with you inside and outside. The first time your mother opens the door for him, he can notice her tired and worried eyes. An apologetic smile painted on her face, "Sorry I invited you at this time, Tetsu-kun."

Kuroo shakes his head politely, "I'm actually free. It's rather been a pleasure to be invited to your home, Ma'am."

She smiles in relief, gesturing that he can head to your room on the second floor of the house. He nods and glides to a white door with a sign of your name on it, taking his time to gently knock three times on the door leaf. There's no response.

"Y/n, it's me." You can notice him by his familiar voice.

You hum weakly in confirmation and the door opens. Your room in Kuroo's view hasn't really changed. The warm pastel color, with a row of books neatly arranged on your shelf. The simple white curtain hanging on the wall. This is the room where he used to play video games with you, when he used to gush over volleyball things, and show off the new science book he bought.

The difference is the owner of the room is not in her usual state, with gleaming eyes that can hold the sky or smile as bright as the sunflowers. You look so pathetic, snotty nose and stuffy eyes from bawling too much - though he still finds that you're the most beautiful being. Can't believe you're still a crybaby like you used to be. Disheveled hair and wrapped in your favorite blanket, you still sniff without any sign of stopping.

He knows it, he already knows that you cry over a jerk who mistreated you. He already told you he's such a red flag. But you didn't listen, just like he sometimes doesn't listen to your words. It's fair play you thought, rolling your eyes and feeding your ego.

Kuroo thinks you can be irrational sometimes, insufferable. But ironically so is he. How can he fall for you when you've fallen into another man's embrace. He thought you were just his casual childhood friend, who used to tag along with him. Not until you decided to give up on your one-sided love over years. The fact hit him in realization.

He really wants to hold you, but instead, he grabs a tissue to wipe up your tears. There's already a bunch of crumpled ones filling up the small basket bin, an indication that you've been weeping for hours. Your glistening eyes meet his hazel eyes, but he looks away and pats your head. He gently drags your head onto his shoulder, raking his digits through your hair. He doesn't have the heart to see you cry.

You tell everything chronologically with jumbled words as he's all ears. How naive, you believed he was chatting to a casual friend during your date and all his ugly lies. This is the one thing that Kuroo really loves about you, your kind heart. And he's afraid someone will use this side of you. It happened.

You seem immune to any comforting gesture. He has patted you, rubbed your back soothingly, even served your favorite ice cream flavor. Unfortunately, you have no appetite. The poor ice cream has melted into a glass of flavored milk.

"He didn't want me in the first place," you sniffled.

Your feeling for him already washed away once you find out he was cheating on you. But your ego hurt, you started comparing yourself with the other girl and feeling worthless. What does she have that you don't? All the negative thoughts in your head start whispering.

Kuroo doesn't really know how to respond.

"I don’t have perfect words.  I- I’m not the kind of person who knows how to sound poetic and shit," he emphasizes the last word.

"So all I know what to tell you is that I belong to you.  I don’t know if you want me. But I’m yours."

"And at this point however it is you need me, I’m here."

Frustration lingers in every word. Can you hear how desperate he is? He is down bad for you that the last thing he can offer is himself.

Because even if Kuroo Tetsurou had searched all the words in his dictionary to express his longing for you, he couldn't find the right words. Words can't convey how deep the feeling he bears for you. So his words shambled, don't know if claiming himself as yours is the right first thing to say.

Your pupils dilate and the sob begins to calm down. Kuroo clowning himself for you can stop your tears from brimming away.

"How can you say that I don't want you?"

"You were dating this jerk."

"And you've never made a move, always mentioning that I'm like your precious little sister as if you're trying to set a boundary," you pout.

"Sorry I just-" he lost at words.

Blink a few times, you look into his eyes and share a laugh. How silly you were longing for each other all this time.

"Then-"

"would you help me to fall in love again?"

"I will do anything to help," he proclaims.

"Besides, I'm sure you've started to fall for me," a smug grin plastered on his face. You smack his arms, leaving out an 'ouch' from his mouth.

He has taken the crumbs of your heart by now. It shouldn't be difficult because you used to love him and to fall all over again will definitely be an easy task to do.

Because your heart remembers how it was, what it means to long for him.

And you know, you're now in good care.

(masterlist.)

#haikyuu!! #haikyuu drabbles #haikyuu x reader #haikyu x reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu imagines #haikyū!! #hq imagines #hq x y/n #hq drabbles #hq kuroo #haikyuu kuroo #hq x you #hq x reader #kuroo x reader #kuroo x y/n #kuroo testuro #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo tetsuro headcanons #kuroo tetsurou #kuroo scenarios #tw cheating #cw cheating

[thecurioustale]

Liking Things that Go on to Become Popular Kinda Sucks

I have the unfortunate tendency to be something of a social contrarian. For instance, just as a throwaway example, I learned recently that my favorite whiskey, Jameson's Irish Whiskey, is also America's most popular whiskey. You might think that I was pleased, as someone who almost never holds majority tastes in anything, but in fact all I could think of was, first, that I'd been usurped, and, second, that this will inevitably lead to the collapse of the brand once it stops being the current hotness. I am a very, very light drinker, but I would still be sad if my favorite whiskey became hard to find.

My contrarian streak is not for the sake of arguing. I don't actually like arguing, for the most part. Rather, it's often a mixture of feeling personally displaced (like I mentioned above) and internally cringing at the coarseness and imprecision of popular opinions (which is also a form of displacement, but subtler and more involved).

The first reason is pretty easy to understand: I've been a social outcast my whole life and have therefore come to have a strong sense of individual identity. When something obscure that I like becomes popular, I feel like I am seen when I don't want to be seen, like I am getting unwanted attention via my interests and affiliations. This is pretty simple human psychology and I don't have much to say about it that's worth making you read through.

But the second reason is more interesting: I have this incredible compulsion toward precision in my life. Anyone who has listened to me speak in person, or read my nonfiction writing at length, will know that my sentences are often extremely heavily qualified, full of asterisks that anticipate the inevitable objections to my clean general statements in their basic form. There is almost nothing of great importance that I could say as a general truth without being at need to qualify it.

When something that I like becomes popular, it is almost always the case that the prevailing appreciation or popularity in question is unbearably simplistic to me—leading directly to one of the things that makes me chafe more than anything else: being misunderstand through oversimplification. If someone else likes something that I like, but for extremely simplistic reasons, and their understanding of the thing is what ends up being promulgated through society, then anyone who sees me and my interest in the thing will, without knowing better, be apt to classify me as just a typical fan of the thing—when in fact my particular liking of the thing is likely far more esoteric and elaborate.

It's a form of erasure mingled with misrepresentation, and of course I don't like that. This too is fairly simple human psychology, and well-spoofed in characters like Comic Book Guy from The Simpsons. (Though I try not to be insufferably gatekeepy about it like he is. We all like what we like, and I'm not gonna tell other people "the right way" to like a thing.)

I should note that this doesn't apply to things that I come to like because they are popular. If I'm jumping on the bandwagon like everyone else, that's much less jarring than if I had previously liked a thing which goes on to become popular.

It doesn't always happen that I'll get upset if something I like becomes popular. In fact, it usually doesn't happen. What needs to come together for me to feel put out is either what I described above about the whiskey, where the thing I like is likely to become harder to enjoy once it inevitably loses its popularity, or it needs to be the case that the thing which becomes popular is something that I not only like but which I also pour some measure of my identity into. That's the cut in the skin that lets the act of being erased really sting.

And if this all sounds moderately petty and animalistic to you, it totally is. I am not claiming otherwise and not idealizing any of this as something you should aspire to. But maybe it's interesting to read about anyway.

#Armchair psychology with Dr. J

[whoneedsapublisher]

Asking For a Favour

The penultimate @nasuversepromptweeks Nasuverse Femslash Week fic. This time it's Salter x Jalter, because, holy shit, I still can't believe this bit in Shinjuku is real.

Anyway, not explicit, but some sexual situations. Prompt was "fake dating/wedding".

Words: ~1100

Summary: Jalter finds herself stuck between a rock and a hard place. Either she has to suffer through a truly insufferable fate… or ask someone for help that she really doesn't want to.

Also on Ao3

*************************

“I need a favour.”

Jeanne D’Arc Alter. A dark side that didn’t exist, a fantasy of resentment and revenge dreamed up by a distraught follower who wished on a grail that his idol shared the bitterness he felt. The Dragon Witch. The Devil of Orleans. The Anti-Saint.

Or, as she was referred to by Ritsuka, “Jalter”. A slightly infuriating portmanteau, but one that she had to admit, was somewhat alluring in its distinctiveness. It was definitely better than putting “Jeanne” in her name directly.

And today, Jalter found herself asking for a favour from someone who she very much didn’t want to owe a favour to.

Artoria Pendragon Alter. Unlike Jalter, she was a true dark side. A corruption of Artoria Pendragon by the evils of the grail, but one that reflected a truth of Artoria. The crystallisation of her devotion to duty over emotion, that added “morals” to the pile of things she’d sacrificed in pursuit of being an ideal king. A hero would others would never call by that name, but one who, like any hero, defeated her enemies and claimed victories for her nation. A cruel manifestation of the tyrant that her people had shaped her into and come to fear at the end of her reign.

Ritsuka called her “Salter”, which, frankly, Jalter thought sounded like a bizarre name for a salt shaker more than a dark king of knights, but it seemed to have stuck nonetheless.

“No.”

Salter didn’t even look up from her book as she flatly rejected Jalter.

“Wha- you haven’t even heard what I was going to ask!” Jalter snapped.

“I don’t care,” Salter said. “Why should I do you any favours?”

Jalter grit her teeth.

“Look,” she said. “You know that the other me is getting married to that ditzy french princess, right?”

“Yes,” Salter said. Of course she knew. How could she have missed it, with how much of a big deal was being made of it? It was all over Chaldea. Apparently Da Vinci had programmed a chapel in the simulator just for this occasion. 

“Master is making me go to the wedding,” Jalter said. “And I am not going alone.”

“You won’t be alone. There’s plenty of other people going.”

Ugh. That was true too. All sorts of servants were being appointed flower girls or bridesmaids or whatever. 

“That isn’t what I meant,” Jalter said.

“So get to what you do mean and stop beating around the bush,” Salter said, finally looking up from her book. “Since apparently you still haven’t learned to take no for an answer.”

“I mean that if I go there single, my other self is going to be unbearable. Being all sympathetic and encouraging me to find someone and all that crap. I’m not putting up with it.”

“Unfortunately, you don’t have any choice. Stop yowling like a wet kitten and deal with it.”

“I do have a choice. Ask someone to pretend to my girlfriend, so Jeanne will leave me alone.”

Salter stared contemptuously at her.

“As usual, you haven’t thought this out at all,” she said. “You can’t possibly expect me to go along with this. I don’t get a single thing out of it.”

Jalter grimaced. This was the part of the conversation she’d hoped she might be able to weasel out of…

“Look,” she said. “You only have to pretend for like, one day. Once the wedding is over, I don’t have to give the other me a chance to lecture me about my love life, so you can say you broke up with me or whatever.”

“I don’t care. I still don’t have any reason to do it.”

“Ahh, jeez, fine! I’ll do anything you ask, okay?!”

Salter paused, a dangerous looking smile on her face.

“Anything?” she said.

Jalter sighed.

“Anything,” she grumbled.

*************************

“What the hell is this?”

Jalter held up the strip of fabric that she’d been handed skeptically.

She’d followed Salter back to her room, and then Salter had left for a short while and returned with a small box.

“It’s a costume,” Salter said, handing her a hairband. A hairband with… cat ears? “The castle shut-in made it. Now put it on and beg me to help you.”

“What?” Jalter growled.

“I said, put on the costume and beg. On your knees.” Salter smirked. ”If you can’t, that’s fine with me. I just won’t go along with your little farce.”

Jatler ground her teeth, her fists clenched 

“Fine!” she snapped. “I’ll do it. But at least look the other way while I’m changing.”

“No deal,” Salter said, sitting down in an armchair and crossing her arms. “You don’t have any bargaining power here, dragon witch.”

Jalter ground her teeth hard enough that Salter could probably hear it, but she started to angrily pull her clothes off. “Fine!” she snapped. “Be that way, you stupid pervert!”

It wasn’t a big deal. She was just changing, that was all. Just like any other time changing. She was not doing a striptease for Salter.

Getting naked was humiliating enough. But somehow, putting the costume on after was actually even worse. It barely covered anything, and there was even a damn tail attached to the bottom… she was going to incinerate Osakabehime after this.

“Now beg,” Salter said, one leg crossed over the other as she rested the side of her head on a fist. Every inch the demanding king. Ugh.

“H-Help me out, please…” she mumbled.

“On your knees, little kitten,” Salter said. “And speak clearly.”

Ugh.

Jalter slowly lowered herself to her knees, bowing her head.

“Will you please help me already, you goddamn ice queen?”.

“Is that how they ask for a favour out in the sticks of France?” Salter said. “Please, try to translate your request to proper English manners for me, provincial maid of Orleans.”

Jalter growled.

“Look me in the eye and ask nicely.”

Jalter forced herself to look up at Salter. Towering over her, every inch a king on her throne. Jalter could practically see the crown on her head.

“...Please help me, king of knights,” she managed.

“There, you can do it if you try,” Salter said.

Jalter was utterly humiliated, and absolutely infuriated. 

And also kind of really turned on, which just made her more angry.

“Fine, I’ll help you,” Salter said. “You can leave now.”

“...Right,” Jalter mumbled.

Salter raised an eyebrow.

“What?” she said.

“Nothing!” Jalter said quickly.

Salter smirked. A smirk that said she could see right through Jalter.

“You could leave now,” Salter said, reaching down and gently cupping Jalter’s chin in her hand. “Or… I could start early on pretending to be your girlfriend.”

Jalter grit her teeth.

“Can I at least take the stupid costume off?” she said.

“Leave the ears on,” Salter said.

“God damn you.”

#fate #salterjalter #nasufemslashweek

[yallemagne]

I'm sobbing why does my dash have to be filled with reminders about Phantom Blood.

So, the thing about... actually crossing over Dracula and Phantom Blood is. It's complicated. So, Araki looked at vampire lore and said "this ain't gonna do it for me. not sexy enough. not enough gore. where are the man-dogs?"

Religious iconography doesn't kill vampires (it makes an honest effort. Dio gets impaled by a statue of Venus but he lives unfortunately). They use breathing martial arts to harness the power of the sun (which Bram doesn't even explicitly say harms vampires. what the fuck Bram, toss me a bone). AND EVEN THEN! I swear to god, ninety percent of the time Hamon doesn't even work against vampires because all of the highly trained Hamon masters get fuckin' decimated by a guy who turned into a vampire last week.

I feel like maybe crossovering the plots would be weird... but to have the characters interact would be interesting. And I'm not just saying this because I've spent too much of my life working on Phantom Blood rewrites. I love these characters, I hate what happened to them. Jonathan Joestar dies at twenty-one. Unfair, illegal.

But so, since I keep thinking about this and I've already posted nonsense about crossovers, I might as well dip my toes.

Warning that I don't go deep enough into Jojo lore to make this comprehensible to non-Jojo fans.

Okay so, Phantom Blood takes place from 1880-1889. So, not really a viable time to crossover with Dracula. I know some are more fast and loose about crossovers, but I'm the guy who gets mad at people who think Frankenstein was set in Victorian times. I'm insufferable is what I'm saying. The earliest you might place Dracula is 1890 since that's 7 years before the publication, but some people go with a later date (for context reasons? shit about New Women and stuff) or even 1897.

But whatever. I guess... you can lie about things to make a crossover work... but you can't change the timeline of Jojo's bc Araki is an author that actually tells you what fucking year it is in his manga which makes him a god in my eyes.

So, probably the best way to connect the Joestars to the Crew of Light initially is that Jonathan Joestar is nobility. Perhaps the Joestars have met the Holmwoods? Jojo and Arthur could bond over having no mom? And later, their dads dying at a very inopportune time? And their wedding plans being ruined?

Dio Brando was a lawyer (or still in university to become one?) but I don't think he would have gone into property law?? I think canonically, he planned to be corrupt and take bribes from criminals, but I've seen fanfics that hint at crossover potential just being Harker and Dio knowing each other because of their lawyering. I think that's neat. Dio thinks this man (with the same damn name as his stepbrother) is so insufferable. And Harker doesn't even have the excuse of being rich or having a stable family, he's literally also a poor orphan, it vexes Dio so much, "stop being so happy you're not allowed, you're supposed to be bitter like me".

Erina Pendleton is the daughter of a doctor and later gets into medicine herself to nurse Jojo back to health after his first... well his first BIG LETHAL fight with Dio. Her father could know Van Helsing? Or Seward's parents? I assume Seward's father would also be a doctor but I dunno. You know he got that asylum through nepotism. Anyway, bullies call Erina's father a quack, so maybe he could indulge in theories about vampirism like Van Helsing? We see nothing of him, but he gets sponsored to do some medical research in India. It seems like big deal research to me, but I wouldn't know. It wasn't plot relevant, it's just the explanation for why Erina is gone for the seven-year time skip.

Also. isn't it funny that Phantom Blood and Dracula both have a seven-year time skip?

But here's the big issue I keep slamming into like a fly knocking against a glass window. Phantom Blood takes place in Liverpool where the Joestar estate is. I mean, there's also some cavorting in London, and Dio is from London, but the characters all spend the majority of their time in Liverpool. Maybe I'm just... I'm thinking too deeply. After all, most of the locations in Phantom Blood are made up. And England is just so small.

Mixing the vampire lore would be the hardest. Vampires are OP in Phantom Blood, and I refuse to give Dracula that much power. Vampires don't even... use their teeth here. I guess the sharp teeth are just for se-- *gets shot* They just stick their fingers into your skin like silly straws and suck it out that way. And they are created either by wearing the Stone Mask or by feeding vampire blood to someone/just spilling vampire blood on a corpse.

There's not really themes to the vampires in Jojo's. Dio and Jonathan themselves represent duality, but like... vampire are not Un-Dead in Phantom Blood. They're just... hyper-evolved humans? How the Stone Mask works is that it pierces specific areas of the brain to crack some evolutionary code and give you cool powers at the cost of not being able to walk about in the sunlight. People who are turned using blood tend to become ravenous monsters or have to serve the vampire whose blood turned them, but those turned with the mask retain free will.

Dio can fucking... make his blood so cold that he can trap people's entire bodies in ice. He gets sliced in half with a cool sword and walks it off. His entire body is destroyed by Hamon but he cuts off his own head and places it on Jonathan's body. It's fucking wild, and I refuse to give Dracula that power. Also, anyone who turns into a vampire turns young immediately, no need to drink blood. I honestly still don't know why Jojo vampires even drink blood. I think it's just to be edgy. Nothing can kill these fucking cockroaches except stands and Hamon... and sometimes the vampires have stands... and sometimes the vampires have Hamon. And that's illegal, but it's happened more than once.

I'VE GONE ON A TANGENT.

THE GIST OF IT IS MAYBE JUST-- WOULDN'T IT BE COOL IF, ON TOP OF HIS KHUKURI, JONATHAN COULD BREATHE ON DRACULA AND KILL HIM IN AN INSTANT??

There, I said it.

#dracula #dracula daily #jjba #jjba part 1 #phantom blood #jojo's bizarre adventure #crossover #dracula crossover #long post

[gloriousmonsters]

it's late but brief ep 12 kp updates

vegaspete storyline is. a lot so far. i do like it, even tho it feels extremely speedrun by being brought in so late. them bonding over the abusive dads thing was good, the unhinged bdsm is sexy, and somehow despite the torture and light sexual assault they have better consent than kp for their first sex scene plus vegas uses a condom, so. a confused thumbs up about that

vegas babe i think your hedgehogs die because you keep them in antique birdcages with a light scattering of sawdust and no toys or stimulation or places to curl up. i hate to tell you this because you are Very wet and sad about it but. this is probably on you

on the other hand i guess vegas losing pets because he just doesn't know how to care for things properly and going '????? why happen?? is it because i'm a bad person or everything hates me maybe???' is very on brand

'i was responsible for covering up your parents' death' says korn, surprising nobody. honestly i expect another twist where he's MORE responsible or something cause. rancid vibes, but we'll see

you know how i said kinn was still likeable/enjoyable...? unfortunately not anymore. the followup to the bar sex scene was way too suddenly 'cute and sweet fluff' for me to really like it, and then the fucking tawan storyline happens, and i hate everything about it because 'ex from the past comes back and is an arbitrary villain' is not my least fave romance trope but it's Right up there, and it's a whole thing of kinn. not looping porsche in on important information and then blaming him for not wanting to be locked up/being mad kinn doesn't trust him. and he has just not recovered from that, because they keep on being either cloyingly cute while nothing happens, or it's another 'porsche get the FUCK out of there' scene. there are 2 eps but i'm genuinely unsure if kinn can get himself out of my bad graces in them. guess we'll see

currently i'm like. vegas has 2 hands. yes he lightly sexually assaulted porsche and nearly shot him and lied to him but. kinn has also done all those things and he's more insufferable, plus even if it's fake or w/e vegas and porsche had cute chemistry. plus if he and porsche and pete had a thing their abbreviation could be pvp

kim and chay are INSANE. they have so little time but every moment is fantastic. kim finds out chay has a shrine to him and is like 'hot. write me a love song, kid'. he then tries to ghost him and chay lightly stalks him in order to find him and perform his love song on the sidewalk. they sort-of kiss and cuddle together overnight and chay's like 'i love you! do you love me' and kim makes dial-up noises for five minutes while looking for emotions that he stopped having at the age of seven, and finally settles for, 'i'm hungry'. chay confronts him about lying and is wailing sobbing emoting his little heart out and kim is just like ._. then chay decides to cope by bailing on music college, styling himself to look more like kim, and trying to get into substance abuse (this FAMILY!!) whereupon kim remembers the emotion of anger and shows up just to punch a guy, yell at chay ambiguously, and leave. obsessed with them. no idea where this is going

#i feel like i had more thoughts but we've watched a lot in a short period of time and i'm Tired #vic talks #kp update

[andthroughthewire]

You’ve heard me whine before but I wish so much there was more good Chuck meta that wasn’t just “he’s evil bye” (no he’s horrible *and* complicated) or the brain breaking take that I saw recently of “Chuck was right and it’s okay that he treated Jimmy badly even when Jimmy was a small child because Saul was always there” like I love every single person actor or creator talking about how fucked up these brothers are but that’s a finite resource

I'll compare Chuck and Walt since the show itself did and, well... they're both insufferable pricks but Walt is 'allowed' to be one because he represents this power fantasy to an unfortunate amount of viewers while Chuck is just a regular man with a laundry list of deep-rooted issues, he doesn't make bombs from God-knows-what and brings them to hospitals to blow up a meth kingpin. He also fills the role of the main antagonist and stands in the way of the main character so people are more inclined to just see him that way.

...or that's how it was for the first three seasons. I think his relapse and suicide either triggered some sort of 'do not speak ill of the dead' kind of thing or the same portion of viewers I mentioned earlier turned on Jimmy in a way they never did with Walt, probably because (for the most part) we are talking about normal people with normal problems and it's harder to justify a character when they're not larger than life or so far removed from our own experiences, if you get what I mean? As an example, I've never seen long dissertations about Lalo killing the guy from Travel Wire, but I've read countless posts on Reddit about how Jimmy and Kim's actions are somehow more morally deplorable than what Walt does in all of Breaking Bad.

So, in a way, I think that people's opinion of Chuck has more to do with how favourably they see Jimmy than Chuck himself. The same thing happened with Kim and Howard at the end of S5.

It's also just easier to see characters as either 100% good or bad no in between, but if there's anything Better Call Saul asks the viewers to do is to not do that. Not even Lalo is a moustache-twirling villain and genuinely cares about his uncle. Chuck doesn't get the benefit of the doubt characters like Lalo (or Jimmy!) do because he's not charismatic enough... or at all, honestly, which is kind of the whole point of his character and why he resents his brother so damn much and thinks he somehow manipulated his way to a law degree and passing the bar. Never mind the fact that having a way with words is kind of a requisite for being a good lawyer and Jimmy, Kim, Howard and Chuck all have that quality in different ways. But I'm going waaayyy off topic so I'll stop.

#tldr: i think we all tend to side with the character we relate to the most but we should try to put ourselves in someone else's shoes #even if we consider that character to be completely unlikable or unredeemable #(unless we're talking about walter white we have enough walt apologists on this planet please and thank you) #for the way off topic department: i also think with the 'chuck was right' crowd #there's an element of thinking addicts (jimmy and kim) will never change for the better and so deserve to just be #separated from the rest of society forever #there was a post on the subreddit about this a month or so ago and some of the responses were... vomit-inducing frankly #see also: jesse and (ESPECIALLY) jane #ask

[apple-pecan]

Marvel's Spider-Man (2018)

admittedly, i've been pretty apathetic about playstation's IPs since around the early 2010's. a lot of their dozens of good franchises like parappa, jak & daxter, sly cooper, and wild arms have been put to pasture solely so they can milk last of us for all it's worth, and maybe throw some other series like god of war and gran turismo a bone every now and then. i played a lot of third party games on the ps4 but rarely would i bother with any of sony's offerings.

however, one fateful day, sony announced "we're going to publish a spider-man game inspired by the absolutely GOATed PS2 Spider-Man 2. it's gonna be a PS4 exclusive, and we're having the ratchet and clank devs make it" and my instant reaction was "... yeah you fucking BET im buying that shit". i got it close to release but unfortunately for my insufferable weeb self, Dragon Quest XI came out a few days earlier on the same fucking week and i ultimately put way more time into that game and barely touched Spider-Man. 5 years later, with the """remastered""" version on PS5, i set out to rectify that and i am very glad i did.

think of the aforementioned treyarch PS2 game and imagine that with a way WAY higher budget, and you essentially have this game. it starts off with a bang as you immediately web swing your way through new york city to storm fisk tower and put a stop to kingpin. a very fun first impression, and once it's over you can just swing all over new york with some really fun movement; i know when i first got this game i spent most of my time with it just moving around from building to building, it was that much fun.

combat is essentially arkham combat, which was the style at the time, especially for super-hero games, but it feels more tuned up and engaging than what that would usually imply; my favorite thing to do is to air launch enemies and combo their pathetic asses in mid air like im playing MvC. ah, the good old days. sometimes you have to use stealth to progress, but they've made it ass simple so you wouldn't get frustrated, and in most cases it's entirely optional...

...except for the periodic times where you have to play as MJ during the main story. and maybe miles morales too. these are much slower sections where you have to sneak around enemies and distract them to get to the goal, and if one sees you, it's an instant game over. these missions aren't my favorite, obviously, and i DID groan every time one of them was about to start, but i've seen way worse mandatory stealth sections in games (suck my ass wind waker), and some of them have fun twists like MJ being able to lure enemies so spider-man can capture them and web them up on the ceiling.

tying it all in is a captivating and fun story that sure, while some parts you can see coming from a mile away even if you have even just basic spider-man lore knowledge, it still doesn't make it any less engaging. the last third of the game is particularly intense, with impossibly high stakes culminating in a tragic final boss fight and a very bittersweet ending. two scenes of the ending in particular had me on the verge of tears, something i absolutely did not expect jumping into this game. simply put, if you liked the 2000's sam raimi spider-man movies, you'll enjoy this plot quite a bit too.

all this being said, if you own a modern sony system (or now, even a PC that can handle this game), it's a no brainer, you HAVE to play this, especially if you have any fondness for the franchise it's based off of. this is the best spider-man game i've played yet, and this is coming from someone who played BOTH PS1 games!!!! play it!! or, more likely... you already have. i mean, it IS the best selling ps4 game of all time so... aw heck PLAY IT AGAIN THEN

9/10

NOTE: i dunno who's idea it was to make j jonah jameson into an alex jones-esque insane radio show host, but whoever it was, i just wanna say... FUCK YOU. at least you can turn it off in the settings XD

#apple's media review #apple's media: games

[limeade-l3sbian]

This is gonna be long.

For the anon on her issues with her gf. I agree with Ms. Rad's points. Just adding my perspective.

Self confidence is of utmost importance for one's life; not just for success but for survival itself.

If one already has a very low self confidence, the worst thing ever is having someone make it WORSE.

Get the courage to tell her that you don't appreciate these jokes anymore. As a woman in a very conservative region who was sheltered and locked in the house and had my every movement controlled, the last thing I'd tolerate would be having someone constantly mock me when I was practicing independence. My parent did that and unfortunately he wasn't disposable. Lovers, partners, close friends etc however are very disposable.

Especially partners/friends who don't see you as an intellectual equal in the relationship, but rather someone to laugh at, click their tongues at and guide you to the "right path" through their supreme wisdom. This ruined me when i was already struggling.

I was planning to open up about my feelings to my best friend of 6 yrs who seemed to have some feelings for me as well, but it got postponed because of her similar attitude. She'd not always mock my dependence as I indeed solved a lot of her academic problems back when we were together; on top of that, she was very emotionally dependent on me.

She, however, would mock my intelligence when I didn't grasp a subject as well as she did, when I was busy learning addresses and streets when she knew the entire city, when I first got on a bus myself. She'd mock my intelligence at every turn basically, while knowing full well how controlling my father is and how I had to fight him for any progress. Her go to joke was about me being dumb, simply because I'm (read used to be) cheerful and liked cracking jokes a lot; she admitted so herself. I'm also very hard to anger so she probably thought I'm not smart enough to recognize disrespect. Anon saying she laughes at disrespect reminded me of myself.

As a people-pleaser who used to be pathetically addicted to serving people in any way I could, it took me a lot to finally stand up for myself and respectfully tell her that her patronizing behavior and her degrading jokes were upsetting me, but she just laughed at my requests as if I was a toddler throwing a tantrum. I repeated this many times because I genuinely didn't wanna lose her, but she simply didn't care or turned the tables on me.

Despite my ridiculously forgiving and resigned personality, after a while I completely ditched her without explanation. I had already given her many. I was a literal doormat, yet it got so insufferable that even I said enough is enough. Anon, I'm sure you aren't overreacting.

Honest to God, I don't miss her one bit now. Self confidence is incredibly important and I refrained from trying a lot of things I wasn't allowed to try, lest somebody mocked me for failure. So I completely understand anon on that. However, these types of partners/friends grow to become very controlling too. Mine certainly became very controlling of my life because she believed me to be stupid, so reading experiences similar to mine in anyway boils my blood.

If anon's gf is any better than my best friend, she'll listen to her and stop kicking someone who's already humble and doesn't trust in her skills. Sometimes we upset people with our jokes and we don't realize it; and if this is the case, she'll certainly stop upon anon letting her know.

Otherwise, to me it's so evil to watch people kick at those with battered self confidence when there are so many arrogant assholes out there who need to be humbled instead. They usually kick when we're trying to grow too. I progressed in independence much faster after I ditched her, because I had one less moron in my life to laugh at me when I made a mistake.

Hopefully anon's gf is kind at heart and is simply unaware. Losing a relationship can be very hard. Good luck anon.

!!!

#ask

[rosenongrata]

⋯☆ A/N: Kagome and Alhaitham my beloveds. Although they're insufferable together. This is just me fucking around with one of my other ocs and mr ham. :D

⋯☆ W/C: 715.

⋯☆ CW: → slight abuse in the beginning. → cw for kagome and haitham being emotionless geniuses

The young lady's betrothed—Qiang of Liyue—shoves her off the boat. Thanks to his incessant rudeness, she stumbles and nearly falls flat on her face on the docks. Homicidal urges rise in her gut as she glances back at the raven-haired businessman. Instead of reacting toward him, she turns her head away and scoffs under her breath as she adjusts her posture.

She brushes her silver-haired braid behind her shoulder, mumbling something under her breath. This elicits an even angrier reaction from her "lover." He grasps her wrist and yanks her around to face him.

"What was that, Kagome?" He interrogates with a low voice overflowing with bitter animosity.

"Nothing, sir." She mutters, head hanging in faux shame.

"Good." He releases her from his vice-like grip, adjusting his own posture and lapels of his coat, "Go find that merchant, now. I will…take care of other business." He chuckles before striding away with a haughty air to him.

From the corner of her eyes, she watches him head to what she assumes is a tavern to get drunk off his behind. She blinks before staring down at the wooden docks below her feet, tiredness building up in her aching heart.

She puts her brief negative emotions aside—bottling them up tight before throwing them into a vast ocean. She then makes her way to wherever this merchant is.

She's done her research, of course. Pink hair, heavily decorated violet garments, and diamond-shaped glasses. That's how most who know this merchant would describe her.

(Not very discreet… Why stand out so much? Her greed must compel her arrogance.) Kagome ponders to herself, (And her name is Dori if I recall correctly. I must check my notes.)

She unlatches the book attached to her hip by leather, pulling it up to her face to double-check her research. She should've stopped walking a while ago since she runs into the unfortunate man that was in front of her.

"Oh, my apologies." She quickly latches her book back onto her hip.

The man—donning black, green, and gold—turns to her with a cold, uncaring stare, "It's fine. Although…" He murmurs, putting a hand to his chin.

"…?" She raises a brow in silence.

"Judging by the book on your hip… You were reading it and didn't notice me." He points out, staring at the thick journal.

"Ahem. Yes, I was. I had been checking my notes for Sumeru and subsequently Port Ormos." She explains.

"Judging by your clothes, you aren't from here." He judges, looking her up and down to gesture to her Inazuman garments.

"You'd be correct." She glances away, growing shy from his wandering eyes. "This is my first time in Sumeru in a long time."

"Hmm… I see. Well, good luck on your journeys." He shrugs, turning back around.

"Ah, wait a moment. I would like to ask a little question." She stops him before he even begins walking.

He almost sighs. Almost. Instead, his head hangs for a moment before readjusting and twisting toward her again. He doesn't speak, only waits.

"Do you happen to know where Dori is? My research is minimal, but—" He clasps a hand over her mouth before dragging her somewhere nearby that’s less populated.

"Be careful who you speak about. I do realize you are new here, but your research is in fact minimal." He murmurs, removing his hand from around her mouth.

"Ah. She is a mysterious, or even dangerous, character." She ponders aloud.

"I can lead you to her, but you have to get through her associates first. And also, you must help me in exchange." He folds his arms.

"No, thank you." She blinks, "I work alone. I am not here to make contracts without my betrothed's counsel and permission." She stands firm. "I appreciate the sentiment, but I must leave now." She brushes past him.

Then, it's his turn to stop her, "What's your name?"

"Kagome Ikeda. And you are…the Scribe of the Akademiya, specifically Haravatat." She glances at him over her shoulder. "I must go now, my apologies for leaving…and running into you." She bows, then promptly leaves.

(…She is most certainly more intimate with the Akademiya than most Inazuman citizens… I wonder what else she knows?) He ponders to himself, eyes glazing over with stirring thoughts.

#ship: haigome #oc: kagome ikeda #mine

[princessozera]

Finding out you're a lesbian

Anon request: The bro’s findings out your a lesbian

She/Her pronouns used

Word Count: 1.2k

Lucifer

Being as aware of his brothers and your safety as he is, Lucifer probably has a guess that you’re a lesbian before you even tell him, but it’s not really his business so he won’t bring it up. His only evidence was how much closer you were growing with your lab partner; she'd even come over twice a week to study when most demons tremble at the thought of being within the House of Lamentation.

When you skittishly ask to speak with him in his office, he has an idea of what you're coming to tell him, unless Mammon had sent you as a distraction so he could sneak out to the casinos again.

If you’re visibly nervous or going about it in a really round about way, he’s the type to cut you off and say “Is this about you being a lesbian?" One of the rare occasions where he won't tease you for underestimating him, mostly because he doesn't want you to misinterpret it for disdain.

Lucifer would likely sit you down and explain that you shouldn't face any discrimination regarding your sexuality in the Devildom, from either his brothers or the RAD student body, but if you ever do face harassment to come straight to him. He means this to be reassuring and explaining the cultural difference of the human world and Devildom, but it ends up sounding like a college level lecture and you have to fight to stay awake.

Lucifer wouldn't try to act like an older brother/ father figure to you, but if he sees you dating sketchier characters, he'll hang around your date until they either cave and show that they're cowards or hold their own and earn some of his respect.

Mammon

As with any major/unexpected news, it’s best to just drop it casually when he’s partially distracted and let the news sink in slowly. 

May take up to 3 business days for it to actually stick that you told him your a lesbian, and that he'd had no reaction when you first told him, so the next time he sees you he tries to hand you a cake that says "Congratulations, you're gay!".

Yes, he is being dead serious, even though this is clearly a gender reveal cake that he half unfrosted and re-decorated- he's panicking and not sure how you want him to show his support so he resorted to this.

Since sexuality isn't something he's had to think of a lot, Mammon will try to learn about how sexuality is treated in the human world. He means well, and he truly does care about you, but talking to him for the next week while he's on his research binge is going to be insufferable.

“You know it’s absolute bullshit the way that lesbians are fetishized in the p--- industry and ostracized for-"

"Dude, I just asked if you could make me scrambled eggs for breakfast”

* You see Mammon trip down the stairs* "Oh my god, are you ok!?"

"Yeah, I'm okay... but what isn't okay is how-" *Loud groans*

Of course, Mammon still drags you out on his misadventures and makes sure you have some matching jewelry. You are his favorite human after all.

Leviathan

Another one who isn't sure what you're expecting from him in this situation. Support? Comfort?? Sexuality is a bit of a non-issue in his world, and his first thought is trying to show you that he's still your friend and can relate to you. Unfortunately, he starts to worry that he's been quiet for too long and ends up blurting out-

“So... girls in thigh highs, am I right?”

The regret at his own words is immediately visible and he tries to backpedal, so I’d recommend hitting him over the head with a pillow to get him to calm down.

To avoid a repeat of that, he'll try reassuring you many times over that you were still his friend and that he wanted to stay being your friend too. If you don't stop him, he'll easily keep you in his room and trying to convince you that he still cares about your friendship for upwards of 2 hours.

Satan

Satan, ever the gentleman and a bit outdated, will immediately thank you for telling him and trusting him with this information before reassuring you that this doesn't change anything between you two.

One thing he will make a point of, is asking if you have any LGBT book recommendations, since romance isn't one of the genres he spends a lot of time with. If you don't read much, he'll also take music/movie/ show recommendations.

If you want, he'll bring you out to events and help you meet more people (possibly a girlfriend) as you see more of the Devildom.

Asmo

If you only recently came to terms with this yourself, or he's the first person you've come out to, Asmo does everything in his power to soothe you and make sure you feel protected, welcome, and loved. He would have had some suspicions after his powers didn't work on you, but would let you come to him on your own time.

Whenever you two go out to clubs he's always sure to be your wingman, and hopes you'll be his. You're still one of the only people who has ever liked his personality more than his appearance and still loves him when he feels ugly (although he'd never admit it), so he wants to keep being your friend for as long as you'll let him.

Beel

Once again, means well but isn't sure what you're expecting so he goes in for a high five. He does however ask you straight up if there is something specific he should do or say if you look nervous- he's also likely to ask if it's still okay for him to randomly hug you, hoping he hasn't actually been making you uncomfortable the entire time and you were too nice to tell him.

Probably showed up next to Mammon with his own "Congrats, you're gay!" cake when he saw Mammon doing it.

Belphie

As bold as ever, when you tell him you're a lesbian, he's the least concerned about making sure you understand that he's still your friend- to the point he comes out seeming rudely indifferent. He doesn't mean to be an asshole, but sexuality has never been something to make a big deal out of so he just kind of nods and gives you a thumbs up.

If he sees you misinterpret his thumbs up he does drag you down and force you to stay put while he apologizes and does try to explain to some degree why he wasn't making a thing out of this, and that he still considered you a friend.

He will however, threaten to fight your significant other if he can no longer use you as a pillow at least once a month.

((A/N: I do stand by the point that the brothers would ultimately not care about someone’s sexuality/gender and accept MC regardless, but I had a few kind of funny outcomes I wanted to write out. ))

#Ozera Request #obey me shall we date #omswd #obey me lucifer #obey me leviathan #obey me mammon #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me asmodeus #obey me satan

[s-brant]

The Endless Summer (2/?)

(gif: @beccs) (PART ONE) (SERIES MASTERLIST)

Summary: A day out on the water goes awry and puts JJ, John B, and Y/N in danger. With tensions rising and the stakes higher than ever, JJ finds it difficult to control his feelings.

Word Count: 9.1k

Warnings: Angst, implied sexual content, strong language, graphic violence, and JJ being an emotionally confused asshat.

A/N: Welcome back! Thanks for the love on this series, I’m so glad you guys like it and I hope this part is just as good. Things get a little heated in this chapter, so buckle up. Let me know if you enjoyed this. Have fun!

JJ isn't sure why she did it.

He wasn't sure then and he isn't sure now, but he knows one thing for certain: there isn't any going back to how things once were now that the barrier between them came crashing down.

Sweat drips off of his skin from the relentless heat of the Caribbean that has made their recent lives hell with the painful tinge of sunburn atop their tans and heat exhaustion they must be careful to avoid at all costs. They were educated on both topics by Pope, their godsend of a survival encyclopedia in human form, who advised them to spend most of their day outside of necessary tasks like fishing and constructing stable shelter under the shady cover of the treetops.

The sole reason he and John B aren't hiding in the safety of the shade is that it's their day to fish, but he's not thinking about the sun. In fact, neither of them is. They're both wondering where their third fishing buddy is.

It took roughly ten minutes of spearfishing with him in comfortable silence for JJ to finally break and spill his guts about what happened last night. Though there was an unspoken agreement to never tell anyone that their hatred has turned into desire, he couldn't help it. He was going mad trying to unravel it in his head.

After all, he already had a conversation with JB about the recent shift in their behavior with each other by the ocean last night, so it seems fitting to pick up where they left off with the calm and clear blue water in front of them again.

He walks on the jagged outcropping of rock that serves as their perch to observe the fish without disturbing the pattern of the current they swim through with John B closely behind.

"One second she's pissed at me, the next she's all over me. It makes no sense. Then, she didn’t say anything to me after it happened," JJ says with his face hardened into a look of concentration at the fish he squints against the sun to aim at, "Not even "Fuck you, Maybank" or one of her weirdly creative threats. She just sat there all night and talked to everyone but me."

His gaze slips away from the water as his chosen fish disappears from sight before he can bother to throw the spear, eyeing up his friend's reaction to the news.

John B doesn't seem that surprised by it, because who else, aside from everyone else in Kildare who knows of their "hatred" for one another, could've seen it coming as much as he did? He considers it for a second, then props his arm up on the handle side of the spear he digs into the rock to lean against.

"I'm pretty sure that means she likes you."

JJ retorts, "That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard you say."

Why would anyone ignore a person they like? It makes no sense to him. Every time he wanted a person, he'd simply walk over and make it happen. It's never been difficult for him to pursue the people he finds himself attracted to...Well, except for her. For a guy that also ignored her for the rest of the night and pretended their moment in the woods didn't happen, he has some balls of steel to be chastising her for the same things he did.

John B shrugs and says, "I'm being serious, dude. Sarah wouldn't even acknowledge my existence when I worked on the Druthers, and I thought it was some stuck-up rich person thing but it wasn't."

They shouldn't be talking at all right now as to not scare away the fish, but they do it anyway. They both know he won't let it go until it's out of his system for good. He wouldn't allow himself to forget it if he wanted to, so its better to talk it out than turn stir crazy from ruminating over it 24/7.

Though it's, as he worded it yesterday, hot as balls out, being by the sea lessens the feeling of it by a landslide.

The breeze they crave whenever they work on their huts or forage through the forest for wild berries, coconuts, or potential building supplies blows on them without pause for the time they spend here, which almost makes it more dangerous. They stand under the direct harm of the UV rays frying them without truly feeling it burn yet, and he dreads the next few days in anticipation of the returning sunburn he just peeled off of his shoulders the other day.

JJ walks down the side to get a better view of the water, balancing precariously on the sharpened edge with the spear clenched tightly in one hand. The breeze is strong enough to threaten his balance, but he holds firm and digs his toes into the sedimentary rock for traction. His body sways in the midday sun with the struggle for stability, or, at least he suspects its midday.

Since being stranded here, time is a foreign concept to them. With no phones, clocks, or any guide to go off of other that the position of the sun above to display the hours that pass, they've lost complete track of what day it is, let alone how long minutes or hours truly are in comparison to the endless summer they live within. They suspect it's been a month since they were left here, but, in all honesty, it could be two. None of them had the sense to mark the days in a tally until it was too late.

He says, lifting his arm to throw the spear, "Well, she is a stuck up rich person, so maybe it's just—"

"You know I'm right here, don't you?"

The sound of her voice from a few feet behind them startles JJ into turning around to look at her right when he lets go of the spear.

Unfortunately for him, the jerking movement throws off his carefully distributed weight and skews his balance, making the feet placed on the edge slip from underneath him and send him slipping down into the water. His calf is the first body part to hit the rocks, and the groan of pain he lets out at the feeling of the jagged rock slicing through his skin could make her heart stop mid-beat. But what truly scares her is seeing the back of his head hit the ground too.

Before he can slide the rest of the way into the water, two pairs of hands are grabbing onto his arms and heaving him up with all of their strength. She and John B grit their teeth with the effort it takes to pull him back up, their muscles burning from the strain, and once his feet are over the ledge, he pushes off the rock to help them the rest of the way. Drops of his blood disperse into the water off the edge from where he cut himself, dripping until there's hardly any left.

Once he's safely laid back down a few feet from where he slipped, Y/N is kneeling in front of him in a matter of seconds. The rock beneath her knees opens small cuts into her skin, but she doesn't pay it any heed. She sits on her heels to lessen the minor pain and lean forward to inspect the damage he took with nothing on her mind other than worry.

Soon enough, John B joins her to kneel at his feet as he sits up and watches them eye up his injury as though it’s some sort of ghastly, life threatening thing instead of a gash that won't need stitches. He watches them against the glittering ocean, waves washing up on the rocks around them to sting his wound with saltwater.

"It's a scratch, not an amputation," JJ says.

She ignores him with a frown lining her pretty features and twists his leg by the ankle to get a better view of the wound in the sunlight. It extends up the entire length of his calf, almost from ankle to knee, and dribbles fresh blood onto her hands as well as the ground beneath them. From what he can tell, it doesn't look all too severe. No muscle or bone can be seen, so it's a simple, superficial scratch.

When he doesn't get a response from either her or John B while they're too busy checking out his leg, he says again, "Guys, I'm serious, it's fine."

This time, she doesn't hesitate to answer.

"Yeah, well you may not need stitches but you still have infection to worry about. This wilderness isn't exactly the cleanliest place," she says retorts with as much snark as usual, and he quietly rejoices in the fact that she's finally acting normal after what happened last night, "Not to mention, you hit your head pretty hard. There's no need to act all tough."

He shrugs.

"It's not an act, it really doesn't hurt that bad."

John B stands and smears the blood on his hands off on the front of his shorts.

"I'll be right back, guys, I'm gonna go get stuff to patch him up."

Just like that, they are left plunging into silence as he is running away down the peninsula back to the beach they've claimed as their own.

Silence has always been her least favorite thing to share with JJ. She'd rather anything over it—screaming, fighting, joking, friendly conversation, or even what they did together yesterday night. Anything is preferable over the tense and insufferable feeling of silence when they're alone together with none of their friends, or their playful hatred, between them as a barrier between them.

Instead of seeing the same pestering jerk she always used to when she looks at him, she sees the memory of how he looked at her in the woods. He didn't look at her like she was the worst person to ever walk the planet, or like she was his least favorite Kook "Princess", he looked at her like she meant something to him.

They sit together in uncomfortable silence in the time it takes John B to rush to the beach and back, careful not to slip on the rocks the way JJ did, with the supplies from the dinghy in his arms. It isn't much to work with, but at least it's something to keep the nasty wound on his leg protected from dirt and germs. She's sure he'd leave it uncovered and up to fate if he had it his way.

Before he can set them down on the wet rocks, thus ruining the gauze and bandages in craters filled with ocean water, she gestures at JJ with a stern command, "Take off your shirt."

His brows raise.

"Shit, Princess, take me out to dinner first."

She groans in frustration, "Can you be quiet for a second and actually listen to me for once?"

He catches John B's gaze with wide eyes, but complies nonetheless, reaching down to tug the tank off of his torso by the frayed hem until it's balled up in his closed fist to hand off to her. Her eyes only linger on his body for a quick second on accident before snatching it from him.

Her bloodstained palms lay the shirt out on the flattest stretch of rock she can find to act as a barrier from the small puddles of water to protect the supplies. One nod at John B has him setting them down atop the navy fabric as she glances up at JJ with a smug smile.

"Believe it or not," she taunts, unscrewing the cap to the disinfectant, "I didn't ask for it so you could sit there and look pretty."

The words throw him back in time to their conversation on the beach while they thatched the roof to their hut, and he wonders how long she's been waiting to throw that back in his face since he first said it.

He grins at her as he asks, "You think I'm pretty?" but before he can say more, she's pouring a generous amount of the hydrogen peroxide along the length of his cut without a warning for him to prepare himself. His leg jerks away on instinct to save himself from the burning sensation, but she grips his ankle tightly enough to force him to stay still.

His nose scrunches up with the urge to groan in pain, and he does a little. Through grinding teeth, he winces in response to the peroxide slipping into every cell of open skin and bubbling up like the white water of the waves as it kills the bacteria lingering in the gash.

"Does it hurt now?" Y/N asks.

She's looking up at him through her lashes with her lips curled into a smirk as she packs gauze onto the wound until it's covered to her satisfaction. And it should be the last thing he's thinking about right now after cutting up his leg and hitting his head hard enough to worry her about concussions, but he can't help it. Looking down at her like this, it's impossible for him to not think about the unfinished business they have.

Everything is the same as it was yesterday—the tattered white top, the red panties in place of a bikini, sunburnt cheeks, and a taunting look that he'll never get tired of seeing. But that's precisely why he's reminded of it. She's wearing the same clothes and looking at him the way she did on the beach before any of last night's antics occurred, and he can't keep himself from wondering if it'll happen again.

"Yeah," he finally responds.

Her smirk grows for a second before she gets back to work.

"Good."

JJ subtly eyes her up from where she shifts on her knees to set the open gauze wrappers under the peroxide bottle in exchange for the bandage wrap, but he isn't as subtle as he thinks. She can feel his stare no matter how sneaky he attempts to be. He may be able to evade John B's attention, since he dove into the ocean to retrieve the wooden spear that began to float out in the tide, but she never misses a thing. Not when it comes to him.

When he looks at her, he finds memories.

Her legs folded up beneath her bring him back to how smooth they felt on his palms when he lifted them up around his hips. Her rosy lips pressing into a line in concentration bring him back to the coconut flavor he tasted on them. Her nipples poking against the fabric of her shirt bring him back to when he lifted it up over her breasts to suck at the sensitive skin until he got a moan from her—There isn't a place he can stare without going back to last night.

Part of him hates that.

He can't stand that a girl who he spent the last five years hating has found a way into his daydreams. Why couldn't it have been anyone else? Why did she have to lure him into her trap? He supposes there's nothing he can do about it now, though. After hours of stewing over it, he's reached the conclusion that it was likely a one-time thing, a mistake made in the heat of the moment that she won't make again, and he should get the idea of it out of his head.

When she has to adjust her grip to hold the gauze in place while she wraps the bandage around his leg, he sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth and jerks away again. She glances up at him with her best, "Are you kidding me?" face. Didn't he say he was tough?

"I'm starting to think you're a sadist, 'cause it's like you're trying to make it hurt," he says.

She gasps, feigning offense.

"Me? Enjoying this? It's not like we've hated each other for years or anything."

And though he may not realize it, this is her way of distracting him from the pain of having her apply added pressure to his cut while she wraps the bandage into place. It has to be tight enough to keep water and sand out, but not so tight that it cuts off circulation, and while it may have been tolerable without her touching it, the contact is enough to make it worse for him.

He asks, "Uh, speaking of, why are you the one doing this? Isn't it some kind of HIPAA thing to treat patients you've threatened to violate with tree branches before?"

The sound of her laughter makes his stomach flutter with butterflies, and he wonders what the hell is wrong with him.

"That's not what HIPAA is, genius"—her eyes crinkle at the sides with her wide smile while she wraps his leg—"and I'm the one doing this because I know way more medical shit than the rest of you."

Even Pope.

"Ohhh right, I forgot. Your dad is this hotshot surgeon and that makes you think you know everything," he taunts.

The casual mention of her father makes her chest ache with something not many of the Pogues, excluding Pope, have felt since being stranded on this island. With their parents either disowning them, absent, abusive, or dead, they have no reason to resist the allure of living here for the months or years it may take to be rescued, but she does.

She misses him.

For the longest time since her mom died, it was her and her dad versus the world. In everything they did, they did it together, and before she met Sarah, he was the closest she had to a best friend. Since they had no other family to help watch her as a child, she grew up in the hospital with him, drawing with crayons on his office’s printer paper with her babysitter and picking up small things along the way from watching him for so long.

He could've chosen to leave her at home, sure, but he didn't want to miss out on seeing her more than he already did, so she spent the majority of her childhood in offices, waiting rooms, and the indoor playground of the PEDs wing.

She takes a deep breath to steady herself after the sucker punch of being reminded of her dad and says, "Well, I know enough and, thankfully for you, I'm the one doing this instead of John B."

From far away, twenty or so feet offshore where their friend is paddling through the water with the lost spear held in one hand, they hear John B shouting an offended, "I heard that!" back at her. It draws a soft chuckle from them both, and she silently thanks him for distracting JJ one last time as she finishes and secures the bandage so it won't unravel.

She wipes her hands off on her water-soaked thighs one more time to get as much of his blood off of her fingers as possible before she reaches out with both arms extended to offer him help to stand. He takes them with a murmured, "Thanks," as they both try not to show how affected they are by the casual touch.

It makes them feel pathetic that something as small as holding each other's hands makes them remember what they did and desperately wish to continue it. Her throat bobs with how she must swallow the lump in her throat at their close proximity, barely breathing now that he's standing close to her with less than a few inches between them.

For a second, they don't move away. They stay face to face, and all she can think of is how badly she wants to kiss him again. But she can't do anything yet, not when she hears someone screaming from the water.

"There's a shark!" John B screams as he paddles back faster than he's ever swam in his life, already close enough to the peninsula that they can see the terror in his eyes when they turn to look.

Surely enough, there a tip of a fin too pointed to pass off as a dolphin cutting through the surface of the water to alert them of the fish's presence, but if that weren't enough, the water is clear enough for them to see its outline.

Thankfully for him, it isn't huge. It looks about as long as he is tall, but that doesn't change the degree of danger. Just because it isn't as big as other sharks doesn't make a bite any less lethal, especially when their only form of medical attention rests on her knowledgeable yet inexperienced shoulders.

For once in his life, JJ is frozen with no clue of what to do.

He's always the man with the plan, the one who jumps into action when others choke up and sit on the sidelines, but this makes him falter. What can he do to help other than stand here and pray John B can out-swim a shark? He's helpless, and now that he's faced with the prospect of losing his best friend for a second time, he doesn't know what to do.

It was his blood in the water that must have attracted the shark, and he was so caught up in his own drama with her and the pain of his cut that he didn't consider the danger of John B jumping in to retrieve the spear he dropped. It's his fault. His best friend is about to be eaten by a shark and it's his fault—

The blurred image of her rushing past in his peripheral vision rips him from his stormy thoughts, and right when he thought it couldn't get worse, it does. Water splashes up around her body and swallows her under the surface after she leaps off the edge of the rock with the aluminum spear from the dinghy raised in her dominant arm.

"Y/N!"

Before he even realizes what he's doing, JJ is screaming out her name, screaming it like he cares, and damns the consequences to dive in after her.

While he was frozen, she sprung into action without thinking of her own life first. She knew he was close to the rock, but not close enough to swim faster than a predator designed for the conditions of the ocean. It took one glance at the spear resting to the side for her to lean down, scoop it up, and get a running start to jump out as far as humanly possible. Various joints and muscles ached from how she strained to push herself far off the rock, taking flight with nothing but their survival in mind.

She sucks in a heaving breath upon breaking the surface, but she doesn't take a second to pause with John B paddling up to her so soon.

"Go back!"

The only answer she gives him is, "Use your spear!" before she brings hers out of the water in anticipation of the grey figure bolting straight for them.

It's a stupid plan, but it's the only one she has, and if one of them is in danger, they'd all risk everything they have to protect them. After all, they're already trapped here with the threat of death every day. Is there anything more worthy of dying for than your friends?

Neither of them is necessarily trying to kill it yet either, they're trying to keep it at a safe distance or hurt it enough so it swims away from them, but she puts all of her strength into spearing the fish between the eyes anyway. Her legs kick tirelessly to keep her afloat while she and John B stab as accurately as they can, choking down a mouthful of salty ocean water from how her head sinks at the surface without the help of her arms to keep her up.

Blood stains the water with a crimson hue spreading out around their bodies—whether it's theirs or the shark's, she doesn't know—and she must keep her lips clamped shut to prevent it from spilling into her mouth, breathing solely through her nose. She can tell her legs are soon to give out on her, but then a pair of hands latch onto her body. Call her irrational or stupid, but even with the clear distinction of human hands on her waist, her mind reacts in instinctual fear.

The touch makes her jolt mid-stab and sobers her feral mind back to reality for a moment until she realizes it's a human touching her, not the shark.

It's JJ.

His arms wrap around her thighs and hoist her up out of the water as much as he can while still swimming, effectively pushing himself underwater with one last gasp for air.

The sudden shift in view has her gaze shifting around to take in the new sights with a gush of red water rushing off of her onto the splashing surface: a light grey tail whips around in the chaos, the shark's head oozes blood from the multiple puncture wounds that didn't push quite deep enough, and its jaws snap right where John B's arm is before he yanks it back.

After a fraction of a second, it clicks with her that there's no time to waste watching her friend almost get his arm chomped off while she takes in the unbelievable sight. Her slippery grip on the handle remains as firm as possible, and she raises the spear over her head with an improved accuracy she never could've had from where she previously aimed it before. All of their shots landed well enough, but with the height advantage, she won't allow herself to fuck it up this time with her friend's life hanging in the balance.

She hardly recognizes her own frantic voice shouting at him, "Spear it in the gills!"

Her hands bring the razor-sharp tip of the spear down into its head repeatedly, and she isn't sure whether it's the splashing water or tears wetting her face when she buries the weapon down into it for a final time right when John B lodges his wooden spear in its gills.

Whatever she did, it must've hit its brain, because the animal halts its thrashing. Its teeth no longer snap at her friend, nor does its tail whip around in the water as violently as it did a moment ago.

As quickly as it started, it drops off into a sickening calm that leaves the white bubbles dissolving into a puddle of bloody water surrounding the trio and the fish that dies with no small amount of guilt on her part. There was no choice but to kill it. It makes her ache on the inside, but how could she regret it if she knows it saved them? The guilt might ravage her for the upcoming days, but she can't bring herself to regret jumping in after him.

She hardly has the chance to process it before she's being pulled away by both of the boys, her view of the scene shifting drastically once more with the abrupt drop of JJ letting her down in favor of guiding her through the gentle waves. His calloused hand squeezes her arm enough to cut circulation off on their journey back.

Time rushes past her in the next thirty seconds or so it takes them to reach the peninsula again in a paranoid sprint away from where the dead fish floats. One of them, John B she thinks, tosses the aluminum spear he dislodged from the shark's head up onto the rocks and clambers his way back up on his own. The waves closer to land grow rougher than the tender current out where they killed the shark, and she grunts in pain as one sends her and JJ straight into the rocks. His body hits her back with a solid ‘thump’ and forces her to wheeze with the wind getting knocked from her lungs upon impact, nails cracking on the black rock from the desperate grip she uses in an attempt to lift herself.

Meanwhile, JJ can't seem to catch his breath either, nor can he think of anything other than her once he sees that John B isn’t injured.

As soon as he sees his friend is unmarked from the teeth of the shark after he's out of the water, he positions himself behind Y/N to help her out first. He places his hands on her backside to push her up as quickly as he can. Knowing that the carcass in the water will soon attract more sharks in the surrounding area into a feeding frenzy, he'd rather it be him than her. It's a thought that shoots by too fast for him to fully acknowledge the meaning or weight of it at a time like this.

Somehow within his adrenaline-crazed mind, he is careful not to push her onto the jagged edge that sliced his leg open earlier, then climbs after her with little space left between them.

She's coughing up saltwater onto the rocks as he scrambles over to her, eyes wild with the petrifying worry of anything bad happening to her. They scan over her arms, legs, stomach, and back, and he doesn't even realize his hands are reaching out to inspect her as frantically as she had with him when he got hurt.

His hands cup her face, petting over her dripping hair and forcing her to look up so he can see if she somehow got hit in the face. Never has his mind been so void of rational thought, and, knowing him and his impulsive tendencies, that's saying a lot. The confusion of his contradictory feelings for her muddle his mind. Worry and hatred, attraction and anger—they battle it out, but only two manage to reach him externally.

Worry and anger it is. Worry for obvious reasons. Anger because—

"What the fuck were you thinking?"

She has never heard him sound so vicious since the start of whatever odd relationship/friendship/enemy-ship they have. With his worried expression and how he checked her entire body for injury after helping her out of the water, the last thing she would've anticipated from him was anger. Especially not after she saved his best friend's life. Considering what she just did for him, she thinks he should be thanking her, not chastising her.

Behind her back, she can hear a collection of yelling voices and splashing footsteps over the water dripping from them. It can only be the rest of their friends racing up the peninsula to them, but she can't turn around.

She stares at him with utter confusion flooding her at his unexpected outburst. Speechless.

"What was I thinking?" she asks incredulously with her face still cradled between his hands, "I was saving John B's life!"

Their emotional distance and disagreement are made up for in abundance by how physically entangled they've become. It wasn't intentional. It was a result of him needing to get close enough to scour her exposed skin for any bites, but now that they're sitting so near to each other, they forget to back away.

John B is too busy to engage with them.

He's doubled over on the ground with the compulsion to vomit the contents of his stomach into the ocean, but he doesn't dare get close to the edge again after what they went through. Instead, he positions himself away from them and their approaching friends until the half-digested food is forced back through his mouth. The acidic bile scorches his throat and nostrils on the way out.

JJ doesn't have the opportunity to retort back something about her being stupid, because Pope is the first person to reach them and ask, "What the hell happened?"

The rest of the group isn't far behind. It's Kie who asks the next question, then Sarah, then Cleo. They all pop off in rapid succession before either of the three of them can answer.

"Are any of you hurt?"

"Why is he throwing up?"

"Is that a shark?"

The last question draws everyone's attention over to the half-sunken mass of fish bobbing up and down on the breaths of the sea with a wooden spear sticking straight out of its gills. Though it isn't the biggest, most intimidating shark to roam the ocean, its presence doesn't fail to make everyone who looks at it shudder with the realization of what must have happened.

John B wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and points over at her with his trembling arm outstretched.

"She killed it."

The four of them whip their heads in her direction, jaws nearly falling off their faces in disbelief, but she doesn't say anything yet. Because as soon as they feel the eyes of their friends burning into them, she and JJ realize, as though they're returning to reality from the hazy layers of a dreamscape, that they're still holding each other.

She's slumped halfway onto him from when he hauled her body closer to inspect her, so she's essentially sitting on top of him at this point. Her legs, bruised and scratched up from when the waves crested to send them crashing into the rocks, are entangled around his enough that they look back and forth between them and where his hands cup her face in surprise.

JJ doesn't know what came over him.

Now that he snaps out of it at the same time as her, both of them separating and nudging each other away until their bodies are no longer entwined, he feels his cheeks flush in embarrassment.

When he saw her leaping past him to jump into the water, his mind shut off. He wasn't thinking about himself, or the possibility of getting killed, or anything at all. He was only thinking of the danger she put herself in, then he dove in and the rest of his conscious mind faded away into pure survival instinct. Yet, even after he knew the immediate danger was gone, the adrenaline kept him on edge, desperate to get her back to land and pray none of them were hurt.

"It was trying to attack him," she rasps. Her throat is raw from the saltwater she choked on, and every word burns. "But we did it together."

She pushes herself off the ground with an exhausted sigh.

Muscles spent from the struggle in the water, her legs wobble beneath the weight of her upper body as she takes a few steps to help John B up from his position on his hands and knees. From what she heard, he has thrown up all he has left in his stomach and hasn't gagged again in a minute or so, so attempting to stand again shouldn't be too strenuous for him.

His hand is cold in her grasp from the water soaking their bodies, but it holds firmly enough for her to help him into his feet without their palms slipping apart. No patches of blood are visible on his shorts, nor are there any puncture wounds on him from the sharp teeth that snapped at his arm in the quick but vigorous fight.

They were very, very fortunate to have made it out alive, and when he looks down at her face, he feels nothing but gratitude for the girl he previously saw as nothing more than his girlfriend's best friend. They went into the water as casual acquaintances, companions of convenience and the happenstance of being forced onto this island together, but they've come out of it differently. Now, they're friends.

Now, she's a Pogue.

He smiles at her, glancing up at their friends as their questions die down at the sight of his crazy grin, and says, "That was some real Pogue shit right there, Y/N." His eyes come back to meet hers. "I think it's about time we officially make you one of us. What do you think?"

She's opening her mouth to respond when Kiara cuts her off. The rest of them are staring at the trio as if they have ten heads sprouting from their bodies for not immediately surrendering more details of their near-death encounter other than saying she killed it.

"I'm sorry, can we please rewind to the part where you got attacked by a shark first?"

"Ladies and gentlemen, can I get a drumroll please for..."

The campfire is roaring with the abundance of sticks, leaves, and branches thrown onto the pile to fuel it as she feels a strong pair of arms looping around her thighs to lift her into the expansive, star-flecked sky.

In a flash of haunting memory, she relives the moment where JJ dove into the water after her and lifted her body above the surface to give her the high ground over the shark. She relives its thrashing hunger, the water splashing on her, and the cloudy hue of blood around them that she hoped wasn't either of the boys. For a second, as the world grows taller with her new perspective, she is brought back to the sudden shift she felt then and feels her stomach drop in panic, anticipating the danger.

But then the sound of her friends laughing, as well as the surging fire and crashing waves, comes back to her and forces the frightful flashback away. Her hip fits perfectly in the curve of John B's shoulder, and she lets her head fall back in giggling laughter at how he hoists her up in the air as though she's a holy figure of worship for the Pogues to kneel to.

His voice can likely be heard across the entire island when he shouts, "The Shark Conqueror!"

The group erupts into a triumphant mixture of cheers and laughter that fills the beach, everyone celebrating in their narrow escape earlier today...everyone except JJ.

After John B divulged the gory details of what happened, from JJ's fall to her picking up the spear and jumping in to save him from the shark, they made their way back with enough conversation to last the month. They all asked questions and took peeks back at where it happened in morbid curiosity, wondering how on earth they managed to come out of the situation without a scratch.

The rest of the afternoon continued on with the same buzzing energy that can only be created from the thrill of being alive. She's felt it many times since joining Sarah's group of friends that seem to find trouble wherever they go, but she has never felt it as vehemently as she does tonight. It's a mixture of euphoria, shock, and soul-crushing guilt for having to hurt another living creature, even one that was intending to make a meal of her friend.

No matter how much she grows up or discovers more about herself as a person, feelings never stop being as frustrating as they were to her as a child. You can get better at processing and hindering explosive reactions to them, but they never simplify. She doesn't know why she feels so much at once. She doesn't know why she feels simultaneously on top of the world and thrown off the edge of a cliff, but she thinks it has to do with him.

Since they walked back to the beach and talked about what happened until the day withered into night, which led them here to the “official” ceremony of her being named a Pogue for life, JJ hasn't spoken to her once.

Suddenly, the shoe is on the other foot.

Much like how she avoided him all night last night leading into this morning, he doesn't talk to her. He tries not to look at her too from where he sits on the log of driftwood across the fire, but it's somewhat inevitable with the spectacle John B is making of her at the moment.

Painted in the warm tones of the firelight like a goddess in her own right, Y/N is impossible to look away from, and it makes him angrier than he already is. A handwoven circlet crafted from the hibiscus and hippeastrum flowers growing in the forest around their camp sits atop her head. It doesn't fall to the ground with the movement of her throwing her head back in laughter. It stays in its rightful place against the rule of gravity until her face comes back into view for him to quickly look away from.

It dampers her laughter to see him avoiding her gaze so adamantly, taking a swig of water from one of the small cups they carved from wood and turning to talk to Kie to keep himself busy. The distinct sensation of being on top of the world slips away with the feeling of his cold avoidance and John B lowering her back to the ground until her bare feet sink into the soft sand.

Before she can start sulking about it for the foreseeable future, Sarah steps up beside her.

The familiar touch of a hand on her shoulder brings her comfort amidst her confusion and hurt over the way JJ is acting, and when she turns to see a pretty face looking fondly at her, a warm smile finds her lips.

"Pogue for life?" Sarah asks.

The three words bring make her smile grow the same way it had when she was talking to JJ on the peninsula. It crinkles the skin around her eyes with its unrestrained happiness to hear them because, as much as she pretends to let JJ's comments roll off of her, tonight marks one of the first times she's felt at home with them.

That's not to say they haven't made her feel welcome in the past, they did, but this isn’t the same. This is closer, this is the type of bond that's forged in situations like these where people have no choice but to rely on each other or let their worlds collectively fall apart, and she thinks, for the first time, that she could live here with them forever if she must.

None of them know how much time has passed since they arrived here, least of all her, but it sure as hell feels like an eternity. At first, she could barely withstand the idea of living here for months with the intention of being rescued as soon as possible, but now...

She brings Sarah into an embrace tight enough to force the air from their lungs.

"Pogue for life," she echoes back with her face buried into the salt-scented tresses of dirty blonde hair cascading over her tan shoulders.

Would it be crazy of her to think that this is where they're meant to be? That they're her family and this place she has fantasized about escaping is now their home?

After all, the lush island provides everything they need to sustain themselves with the rationing, scavenging, and hunting routines they adhere themselves to. Freshwater runs down the land in a stream from a water source uphill, plenty of different edible plants grow in the forest, and there's so much left of the expansive land to explore; it's perfect. Everything here is perfect for them, calling out to them to make it their home, but there's one little problem as of right now, and he's sitting across the fire behind her back.

Sarah's arms squeeze around her shoulders once to bring her in even closer.

"Thank you for saving him," her voice is so hushed, Y/N can hardly hear it with her lips brushing the shell of her ear to whisper into it, "I'm not gonna get all mushy with you right now, but I don't know what I would've done if"—Sarah's breath hitches in her throat, and she shakes her head—"I just wanted to thank you."

When they pull apart, Y/N is looking back at her with a knowing expression, one that says everything she can't in the presence of the others, and Sarah can't help but mirror it.

It isn't long before the blonde-haired beauty is whisked away by her boyfriend to help him cook the crabs they caught closer to shore after their encounter with the shark. Not wanting to swim out or risk slipping off the rocks again with the dead fish promising to lure more predators to their area for the next week or so, they settled for hunting for shellfish and making good use of the fruits they find growing in wild abundance in the forest.

The night ticks away in swiftly passing minutes thanks to the humorous company of the people around her.

She nearly chokes on a mouthful of banana as Cleo tells a story from before she met them, when she used to live in Nassau and work jobs with Terence and Stubbs on ships. For such new additions to the group, they both fit surprisingly well with the lifelong childhood friends that sit around and banter with such ease together.

They talk, laugh, dance, and eat together, and there are moments when she feels happier than ever. There are moments exactly like when John B lifted her up and made her giggle at how their friends cheered on her behalf in indulgence of the silly "ceremony" they did, half out of boredom and half out of gratitude for what she did. But then she is reminded of the man sitting on the outskirts of the group with his features hardened into an expression of contemplation she wishes she could decode.

The night breeze feels heavenly on her perpetually overexposed skin. It blows into the fire and allows it to swell from the oxygen supply, crackling and popping embers out every so often like the spark of the zippo lighter JJ fidgets with in his restless hands. The movement attracts her wandering eyes while they should be focused on Cleo and Kie dancing around the fire with boisterous laughter while Sarah and Pope sing for them.

She keeps herself honed in on the opening and closing of the lighter under the guidance of his ring-clad fingers for the next minute or so.

They may have been pitting themselves against each other since they met, but that doesn't mean she doesn't know him well. If anything, the keen attention that her old hatred for him forced her to keep on him made her memorize everything there is to know. And she surely has picked up on the nervous habit of him playing with the lighter whenever he's thinking, whenever there's something crawling under his skin that he can't piece together.

He sits with his back to her, facing out toward the ocean so all she can see is the hand he uses to flick the lighter open and shut with. With a quick glance at the rest of their friends to see if any of them are watching or wanting to speak with her, she pushes herself up from the log and dusts her sandy palms on her shirt.

The tracks of her footsteps lead around the corner of the driftwood he rests against until her feet appear, sunken into the sand in front of him. It takes a lot of control to not allow himself to follow up the length of her body, panning up along her legs until he sees that infuriatingly tenderhearted set of eyes looking down at him.

However, he doesn't have a choice in looking when her hand outstretches in a silent invitation. His first glimpse of her in the last half-hour shows her jerking her chin in the direction of the beach curving around the bend of the island.

This morning, he probably would've taken her up on the offer. He would've done anything to get a few minutes alone with her, but now he can't see past his anger and doesn't know why. He doesn't know why it hasn't calmed yet, but, in truth, it has more to do with him than it does her idiotic yet brave decision to fight off a shark today. Trust him, it still has a lot to do with the idiotic shark thing, but the rest is lost in translation for him.

"Not in the mood," he dismisses her.

Her brows furrow and form a crease between them as she tries to find something to say but comes up with nothing. At least not until it clicks with her what he thought she was trying to do by inviting him to walk with her.

The last time they went off on their own together, it ended in an explosive encounter they have yet to erase from their minds. It's what greets them whenever they close their eyes for a second too long, existing in their wildest daydreams and fantasies whenever they have a spare moment to themselves. Hell, he can't stop thinking about it even when he's already occupied. It was the reason why he didn't catch any fish this morning before the incident that made him pissed at her in the first place. He couldn't stop thinking of her.

"Oh," she murmurs and starts to kneel down until her knees are sinking into the sand the same way she did when patching up his leg. Her eyes peek over his shoulder to ensure the others didn't hear them—"That wasn't what I meant...I was just wondering if you wanted to talk about today. It must have been a lot to process, since he's your best friend and all, and—"

JJ snaps, unable to tolerate it anymore, and stands up from his spot on the sand to move away from her.

"You don't need act all therapist with me, okay? I'm fine, and I don't need you to fix me if that's what you wanted. Today was fine. Everything's fine, so let it go."

Her mouth opens and closes like a fish with a loss for words. For the second time in the span of a minute, she is grasping blindly for something to say in the wake of him shocking her to silence. He's starting to walk past her but she doesn't let him. Her hand shoots out to stop him and holds onto his arm to turn him back despite his rudeness.

Underneath it all, her concern touches him deeply. It shouldn't trigger a reaction like this in him, so why does it? What about today set him off? He hasn't been this genuinely angry with her since before the hunt for the gold began, before she started to blend into their friend group and establish herself as one of them.

"Woah, woah, woah," she says, "I never said that. I thought that you needed someone to talk to. You know, as a friend."

Their friends start to notice their interaction tensing up now. Before, they didn't pick up on her stepping away for a second to check on him. Now, it's impossible to ignore what unfolds hardly six steps from where they watch as slyly as they can. The two of them haven't had a conversation as cold as this one in months, and what he says next takes it to a place that freezes over the connection they made last night and shatters the warm place it held in her heart.

He scoffs.

"We're not friends. If you think you gotta act different 'cause you threw yourself at me last night, don't bother. You hate me and I hate you. That's how it is."

No nicknames, jokes, or anything to act as a buffer, just cruelty. Rejection.

Though they truly were trying to pretend like they weren't paying attention, every single one of their friends stops and stares. A chorus of hushed reactions sound off from across the fire, and the faint sound of Kie muttering, "Oh shit," is the first thing to reach their ears. It's needless to say that none of them could've expected something so callous to come from him, not after what they saw when they ran up to them on the peninsula this morning.

With the way he was holding her then, doting on her and cradling her face between his hands even in the midst of his anger at what she did, they sooner expected the pair to admit they're dating than have a blowout like this.

In the delayed seconds it takes for her to realize what the fuck he just said to her, he watches her face shift from a look of concern to sadness, to flush-faced embarrassment, then finally to anger. Her teeth grind together, nostrils flaring on her inhale, and in one quick moment, she comes to a conclusion within herself.

She reaches up to rip the handmade crown of vibrant flowers off her head with flames to match the camp fire flaring up in her eyes for him. Before she can do anything, he already knows he crossed a line, if not multiple lines. It's evident in everything he sees, from the hurt look on her face to the force with which she shoves the crown into the center of his chest to send him stumbling back a few steps. Just like yesterday, except it couldn't be any more different.

"Fuck. You." She spits the words as though they're venomous, and he almost shrinks away under the intensity of her stare, “Go find somewhere else to sleep tonight, 'cause it sure as hell isn't gonna be with me."

Petals flutter out upon impact against his solid chest and float peacefully to the sand around his feet as he watches her turn on her heels and storm off toward their hut. Though, after what he did and what she said to him as a goodbye, it isn't really theirs anymore, is it? At least not for tonight, tomorrow, or the next day until he finds a way to make her hear him out for an apology.

He stands there, frozen, the entire time he watches her leave. Nothing can move him from the spot, not even Sarah knocking her shoulder against his with a pointed glare on her way past to follow her into the moonlit darkness.

He doesn't even resist the disappointed looks he gets, or the shoulder check from Sarah. This time, he deserves it. He deserves every ounce of their judgment. All she was trying to do was make sure he was okay and he was too consumed in his unreleased frustration from today to see it. And, in a way, he's still frustrated over it, but it's greatly overshadowed by the guilt seeping through him.

The shadowy shapes of the two girls disappear into the small hut further down the beach, and JJ is left with nothing to do but look down at the flower crown clutched to his chest in regret.

Tag List: @gabiatthedisco, @fangirlvoice, @black-syren, @apparrio, @particularcth, @planetdemon, @idk-ijustworkhere, @krisphann, @astrydis, @k-k0129, @zarahsloves, and @stilesflannels.

#jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank smut #outer banks #obx #fanfiction #obx2 #this fic is so over the top and silly but I love it 🥺👉🏻👈🏻

[aedan-mills]

CONGRATS ON 700 BESTIE. THANK YOU FOR YOUR SERVICE TO THE CHAMERON FANS 🎉✨for the chameron drabble requests: “i don’t know okay! maybe i just like your stupid face. and your stupid laugh… maybe i just… like you… moron.”

(you can totally change it up a little if you find something that works better :D)

aksldjlaskjd I miss answering your asks bestie lkajsdlkjasd hmmm how do i keep this short tho hahah

Moron (Chameron Ficlet)

Charlie was insufferable, an annoying pain in the ass (to be redundant), and incredibly intrusive when it came to being a roommate. Richard Cameron is unfortunately the one who had to share a room with him this year. He should've anticipated it especially since Charlie and Neil's reign of being the noisiest room had to come to an end. But never did Cameron think he'd be stuck rooming with someone like Charlie.

Charlie's been incessantly bugging Cameron, every damn night. Be it his music, his personally intrusive questions, times he doesn't understand what personal space was, Cameron was getting really sick of it. He wasn't sure if this was some type of powerplay, or just a pastime for him, but Cameron did not have time for someone to treat him this way.

One late night, when Cameron decided to study in their room alone, Charlie chose to stick around again. Cameron wanted to contest his roommate's choice but the other Poets have gone ahead to the cave and it'd been long past lights out. Cameron was studious, that's why he stayed behind. But whatever reason Charlie had to stay behind was beyond Cameron's understanding.

"Hey, Cam. Why dontcha give it a rest? It's late. Maybe we can still catch up with the others."

"No, Charlie. Unlike some people, I actually want to get good grades without any help from others."

"Geez, for a smartass, you could be a real moron sometimes..." Charlie muttered under his breath.

"What was that?" Cameron glared at him.

"What? I didn't say anything! Dumbass..."

"That's IT-- CHARLIE, CAN YOU NOT BE A JERK RIGHT NOW?"

"Woah, Cam, I-I'm sorry-" Charlie's taken aback by Cameron's snarl.

"No, Charlie, because I'm sick of you always picking on me, messing with me, and especially bugging me while I'm trying to study!"

"Wait Cam--"

"Why the hell do you insist on staying behind? Is it to torture me? Is this funny to you Dalton?!"

"No! I--" Charlie stood up, his shoulders up like he was on guard as he backed away from Cameron.

"What is it, Charlie? You hate me? Am I your favorite victim to berate? To annoy? Why are you like this to me, Charlie?! Why do you keep--"

"I don't know, okay?! M-maybe I just like your stupid face when you're angry... and your stupid laugh when I make a bad joke… maybe... Maybe I just… like you… moron." Charlie looked away for a second, the embarrassment seeping into his cheeks. He looked back at Cameron, whose face was also burning and red.

"Y-you... You like me?"

"Y-yeah? You have a problem with that?"

"But.. you're always so mean and--"

"I dunno what to do, okay?! I've never really had a huge crush on anyone before-- Y'know, this felt like a playground crush situation-"

"So your solution was to piss me off every chance you got?!"

"I didn't know what else to do, Cam-- You make me so damn dumb all the time-- It's like when you're around, my brain stops working and my heart goes apeshit when it's near you. Cam-- I dunno, okay?!"

Cameron looks up at him, still sitting from his desk chair. Charlie covered his eyes like he was on the verge of tears, uncharacteristically nervous and confused.

"I- I really like you Cam, and I don't know what to do with this information."

Cameron pries Charlie's hands away from his face, now standing close to him.

"Charlie... Y'know... You could have just been nice to me."

"Yeah, I-- I mean I thought I was being nice... I asked you questions about your life, tried to get your attention with my sweet, sweet musical skills, I even tried you poke you a couple of times as a way to flirt! I-- I guess you took it the wrong way."

Cameron recalled all those "moments" he was bothered by Charlie and came to the realization that he perceived them in a completely different point of view.

"I mean... If I knew that you liked me sooner, I wouldn't have yelled at you... I'm sorry."

"Yeah... I'm sorry too. Sorry I called you a moron."

Cameron chuckles, brushing Charlie's fringe away. "No no, you're right. I was a moron."

"Huh? No you're not. You're really smart and handsome and responsible and--"

"I meant-- I was a moron because I didn't realize you liked me."

"Well I wasn't being very obvious, was I?"

"... Would you like to be obvious now?" Cameron smiled, cupping Charlie's face between his hands.

The brunette smiled, his eyes became softer and his brain turned off when his heart reappeared.

Without saying a word, Charlie guides their faces closer, tilting Cameron's head by his jaw. As they kissed, Cameron now realized that, despite having Charlie as an insufferable, annoying moron of a roommate, he was his insufferable, annoying, moron of a roommate.

#chameron #chameron ficlet #chameron fic #dps fic #700followerchameronaskspecial #700 followers celeb #700 followers

[wasabito]

thinking about that villain!nanami and getou fanart and yeah... hehe

words: 892

pairing: nanami x fem!reader; implied nanami x getou

cw: public sex

Nanami Kento joins Getou's group of curse users after he massacres his entire company.

He doesn’t join because he has any strong feelings or inclinations towards the cause, or jujutsu sorcerers or even people in general. He just doesn't have anywhere else to go. No goals or aspirations, and yet little desire to "sit and do nothing" too.

Plus, he feels indebted to Getou for helping him out of a predicament that would have otherwise left him at the mercy of Jujutsu Tech.

Many of the others welcome him as a part of the "family", namely you, Larue and Miguel (Nanako and Mimiko too, though they won’t openly admit it).

Unfortunately, the chasm between Nanami and the rest of the group couldn't be greater. Where you all have forged bonds with one another through a shared disdain for the current jujutsu society and the peons running it, Nanami seems to reject the sentiment entirely. He simply doesn’t care.

Nanami’s hard to read, unusually brusque, cold with a penchant for bastard behavior, and money-hungry. His eyes are dead and it's apparent the man before you is hollow and lifeless, like a walking husk made of wooden doll parts rather than flesh and bone.

For the time being, Getou has him managing funds for the Star Plasma religious group he'd taken over after defecting. But it's clear he believes Nanami's talents would be wasted if not utilized out in the field. Getou’s solution: send you and Nanami on a mission to retrieve a special-grade cursed tool. It’s a blunt-edged chopping sword, a family heirloom to a once prestigious clan of sorcerers.

The mission is a field test of sorts, you're only there to watch and report back later with an impartial verdict. You don’t expect anything bad to happen, because you’ll do your part and Nanami will do his.

So as expected, the mission is successful but grossly uneventful.

You sit across from Nanami at an old diner in Chiba, just an hour outside of Tokyo; it’s late but not late enough, so you manage to strong-arm Nanami into letting you make a pit stop for some food.

“Ugh, I haven’t had food this good in a while.” You murmur with delight, clicking your chopsticks.

“We need to get a move on before the final train. Eat and let’s go.”

Nanami checks his watch with a crease in his brow, a notably expensive brand of jewelry that fits him and his pain-in-the-ass personality, you think.

Snorting, you pluck a piece of takoyaki. “It’s not good to rush while you’re eating Nana-chan...it’ll lead to indigestion.”

He hates the nickname, you can tell just by the slight curl of disgust in his lips, but it’s gone a second later. Had you blinked, you would’ve missed it completely.

“Hurry up, or I’ll leave you behind.”

“My, my Nanamicchi, I’m sure Getou-sama will be a-okay without you for another hour or two. No need to scurry on home just yet.”

His expression is well controlled this time, flat and indifferent. There’s no inkling of a response in sight. But... how far can you push him until he snaps, you wonder? Can a dead man be provoked?

“Even if you’re not Getou’s little lap-dog, you sure do follow him around like you are.” You smirk wickedly. “Makes me wonder if there’s more to it than that~”

In a second, your half-eaten meal is snatched from the table and dumped in the nearest trash.

Nanami stands over you with both hands in his pockets, cool as ever without a single hair out of place. It’s slightly frustrating that you hadn’t even seen him move.

Then he says something that makes you laugh despite the flutter of desire in your loins.

“You’re an insufferable woman, I’ll give you that.” He starts. “But that’s rather unfortunate for you, my dear, since you’re just my type...”

Fucking in a back alley seems uncharacteristic for someone like Nanami and yet here you both are, lips locked in a kiss, with your hands fumbling around his designer belt. He tastes like mint and the green tea he’d been drinking at the table. You crave it more.

He doesn’t seem so dead now, in fact, this is the most expressive you’ve ever seen him and the thought fills you with a feeling you’d prefer not to examine closely.

Having your face suddenly shoved against a wire fence is a lot more painful than one would think but at least you have a place for your hands. Nanami doesn’t care either way. He fucks into your cunt with reckless abandon—like a man starved. Like a man given new life.

“Nana—fuck—don’t you dare stop.” You choke on your moans, unable to feel your lungs as the pressure builds. Nanami picks up his pace, obedient to only himself in this moment. You almost want to laugh. After all, who would’ve thought a wet cunt was all it took to liven him up.

When it’s done, he hands you a handkerchief to wipe his cum off your thigh. It smells faintly of his cologne, but you don’t give yourself the time to think about it.

He’s composed, not dead, and you decide to call that a win in your book.

You loop an arm around his bicep with a grin you’re sure he’s wary of.

“I think I know what I’ll call you from now on.” Your smile widens as you tuck the handkerchief back in his coat. “How’s Nanamin sound?”

#villain nanami #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #nanami x reader #kento nanami x reader #nanami kento x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #nanami smut