#like it would be really funny if he sees this younger version of his good buddys and is like ok… act natural | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wttcsms · 2 months

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angels like you can't fly down here with me (i'm everything they say i would be), megumi fushiguro ;

pairing megumi fushiguro x f!reader word count 11k synopsis people like him don't get happy endings but megumi fushiguro (foolishly) considers himself to be the exception — after all, he has you. content contains yakuza au, childhood friends to lovers, mutual pining, breeding kink, slight daddy kink, attempted sa, minor violence & depictions of blood author's note if ur on my ao3, you know this is from 2021!!! my writing has changed up since then, but i'm going to be releasing a revised version of this which will be rewritten and feature more scenes, more worldbuilding, more plot, relationship and character development, etc!! i figured releasing this on tumblr would help me gauge how worthwhile revision of this fic will be, so lmk if u like this au & want to see it become even better <3

Don’t do it.

He repeats the command inside his head again, and then one more time for good measure. (And then another time, just to drive the point across.)

He won’t — can’t; isn’t really allowed to — get into (another!) fight.

(Well, there’s a part of Megumi that knows that despite Gojo’s sing-songy warning of “now, now, Megumi, I don’t need a frequent visitor’s card for the principal’s office”, he doesn’t actually care. All he’s really concerned about — if the mild interest the reckless teenager turned legal guardian shows can even be called that — is whether or not Megumi wins.

And he does.

Every. Single. Time.)

For the most part, Megumi Fushiguro is fairly stoic in general, but to a concerning degree when one accounts for the fact that he’s only ten years old. For the odd three or so years he’s been under Gojo’s wing, Megumi’s mask of disinterest stopped becoming a mask and started becoming a part of him.

(Try as he might, Gojo’s not nearly as funny as he thinks he is. Maybe the connection between them might have been stronger if Gojo was a bit more responsible and if he was actually present, but he’s got his own shit to deal with. Besides, Gojo’s under the impression that what he’s doing isn’t cruel, but rather a means to an end. Megumi’s never going to be able to get stronger if he doesn’t learn how to survive on his own.

After all, being alone and having to fight to survive is the life people like them live.)

The older preteens in the area have a bad habit of picking on the younger students. Because the elementary and middle schools are so close together, the younger students who have the misfortune of walking alone tend to be targets for bullies in need of pocket change or a good laugh. Most of the time, they get both.

As of late, everyone’s favorite target happens to be Megumi Fushiguro, the boy with the messy black hair and indifferent attitude, even when confronted by boys two years his senior and almost a whole entire head taller than him.

Last week, Megumi gave the three older boys dumb enough to harass him for money bloody noses, bruised egos, and a thirst for revenge. That was the first (and supposed to be the last) time he got into a fight (for this school year, at least — something Gojo had told him, while winking). So, even when the trio is back together again, taunting him and trying to get him to take the first swing, Megumi keeps walking forward with his perpetual look of disinterest, those cold blue eyes of his staring straight at the path ahead of him, never paying any mind to the gangly bodies of the middle school boys who keep trying to block him from moving.

Don’t do it.

He tells himself this once more. You don’t want to have to inconvenience Gojo. Then, you’ll be stuck listening to him pretend to lecture you. You don’t like spending too much time with Gojo. He’ll make weird jokes.

The thought of having to deal with Gojo’s presence is enough to get Megumi to unclench his fists.

“Move.”

It’s the first thing he says to the group since they started following him after school. He tells the boy with the brown hair this. The brunet seems to be their ringleader of sorts, and even as nothing more than a ten year old child, Megumi knows that being twelve/thirteen and harassing little kids for sport is a sign of patheticness that will only grow and fester into something darker unless someone beats some sense into them. Obviously, they didn’t learn their lesson from last week.

“Huh? What the hell did ya just say, ya little brat?” The brown haired boy sneers, looking down at Megumi.

School has just let out, so there are dozens of kids of all ages walking down the sidewalk. They’re all aware of the situation happening, but everyone chooses to turn a blind eye to it. Partly because this is such a common occurrence that it just starts to become something that blends into the scenery, but also because there are some rumors surrounding the Fushiguro kid that’s enough to make anyone with a heart of gold reluctant to come to his rescue.

The main rumor circulating around the school is that Megumi Fushiguro has ties to the yakuza. Granted, most kids his age have no idea what the yakuza is, and even those who somewhat know only know through exaggerated definitions from their older siblings. Generally, everyone just accepts the fact that the yakuza is bad, and by default, Megumi Fushiguro must be bad too. Older siblings tell their younger siblings to avoid “that boy” at all costs, unless they want to end up with a finger cut off. Megumi’s classmates huddle together and conveniently choose to look everywhere else but at him when on the playground.

For anyone else, this might have been enough to cause some hurt feelings. Everyone thinks the boy must be some type of stupid to be so oblivious to the rumors centered around him, but the truth is this: Megumi is well aware of what people whisper about behind his back; he just doesn’t care enough to prove them wrong.

And they’re not wrong, anyway.

(For some parts of the rumors, at least.)

Because it’s true — Megumi does have ties to the yakuza. His father, who he can’t seem to attach neither a name nor a face to, must have done something bad. Something bad enough to have him cross paths with Satoru Gojo, the young head of the Gojo Clan, one of Tokyo’s most prominent crime families. It’s the same Gojo who decided to adopt both Megumi and his stepsister, Tsumiki, despite having nothing (so far) to gain from it. After all, why would a teenager willingly assign himself the responsibilities of caring for small children — one who resembles the man that tried to kill him and the other being an ill little girl confined to a hospital bed for who knows how long. All Gojo gets from this deal is a headache, bills, and more problems than necessary.

Megumi’s not really sure how the rumors started in the first place. He thinks it’s because kids his age are easily influenced and have a tendency to run wild with their imaginations. With the rising popularity of gangs from the high school students, this interest seems to have trickled all the way down to the elementary levels. Megumi certainly fits the description of their idea of someone from the yakuza: silent, secretive, scary.

(If they were a little bit older, maybe they would have just seen him as an introvert.)

No matter how ridiculous the rumors get, though, it doesn’t change the fact that the root of them is true: he is connected to the yakuza. After all, he’s being primed and prepped to be someone of value in the clan. Once you’re tied with the likes of them, you might as well just resign to the knot fate’s trapped you with. He’s learned quickly that the only thing harder than getting into the yakuza is getting out.

And because his sister’s and his life both depend on him doing as he’s told, getting out is a funny pipe dream at best and the Fushiguro siblings’ cause of death at worst.

“I told you to move. You’re blocking my way.” Megumi’s tone of voice betrays nothing. Annoyance, maybe, but he speaks flatly regardless of how he’s truly feeling. Gojo says it’s kinda creepy. Gojo also says that being a little creepy isn’t bad.

(Gojo should know; he’s a certified creep in Megumi’s eyes.)

“Oh — so the little boy can speak up.” The boy with blond hair laughs. It’s a nasally sound that grates Megumi’s ears.

He’s not an idiot. Megumi is well aware of the fact that no matter how much he feels like it isn’t true, he’s still just a little ten year old boy. He should be playing with the toy cars Gojo bought him, not worrying about the gritty future that lies ahead. But still, the phrase rubs him the wrong way.

Little boy.

He wasn’t so little when he kicked them down to his height before properly bashing their faces, now was he? Even now, he can feel the anger coming up. He clenches his fists, wondering if he’ll get suspended for fighting right next to school property.

“Leave him alone.”

Another voice appears, but not from any of the boys. No — this time, it’s coming from a little girl on the sidewalk across from theirs. Everyone involved turns to stare at the source of such a command and are greeted with the sight of you with a Hello Kitty backpack. You’ve got a frown on your face that doesn’t match the brightness of your pink outfit.

Megumi recognizes you instantly. You’re in the same class as him. You were in the same class as him last year, too. He tilts his head, trying to figure out what exactly it is you’re trying to accomplish here — and why.

He knows his social standing in the school. If he’s at the bottom, you’re right at the top. A beaming pillar of light, everyone flocks to you like moths after a flame. But you’re alone today, not surrounded by the usual crowd of boys and girls who are often vying for your attention. Seeing you alone enables him to see you more clearly, without all the distractions getting in his way.

You’re small. Shorter than him, and way shorter than the middle school boys. You’ve got a bow in your hair and brand new shoes on your feet. If anybody should be socially aware, it has to be you. Those at the top, Megumi knows, like to remind everyone of their placement. You shouldn’t be here. You should be ignoring him like he’s got the plague, just like everyone else.

All three of the boys start to laugh after sizing you up. The laughter only serves to make you even more irritated, but you can’t speak because one of them is already talking through his laughs.

“Don’t tell me. Is this your girlfriend?”

The group erupts into more laughter, and while Megumi’s expression remains the same as it’s been for the past few minutes, yours only shows your growing contempt.

“She’s no one.” Megumi throws you an odd look, one of neither annoyance nor gratitude for trying to help him out. He uses your presence as a distraction, and he manages to take a few more steps before one of the boys is yanking him back by his bookbag.

“Grab her.” One of the boys says, and the third boy, the one with the messy red hair, starts to cross the street.

Megumi watches as you stay right where you are. Are you stupid? Why won’t you run? The boy still has a solid grip on his bookbag, keeping him in place. He wonders if it’ll be a waste of his breath if he tells you to start running — you probably wouldn’t listen to him anyway.

But then Megumi figures out why you don’t look too frightened, because not even a second before the older boy manages to cross the street to your side of the sidewalk, a man in a suit is running towards you, a scowl on his face.

“You said you were going to the restroom, young lady!” The man scolds you while panting for breath. He surveys the scene, looking at you, and then the middle school boy by your side before turning his head and seeing Megumi in between the other two boys. “What’s going on? Is everything alright? Did they do anything to you?”

“No, Mr. Higashi. B-but—“ Your bottom lip starts to tremble, and even though Higashi is certain that the tears about to fall are fake, the situation itself looks serious enough to the point where he doesn’t call you out on it. “Th-these boys are being really mean.” You let out a high pitched wail that makes the boy let go of Megumi’s bookbag. “They just threatened to attack me and my friend out of nowhere.”

“Your father will be informed.” Higashi frowns, eyeing the guilty boys who look confused and a little shocked at this turn of events. “Mr. [Surname] certainly won’t be pleased to hear about this.”

The middle school boys pale when they hear the man name drop your family’s surname.

After all, it’s the same last name that’s engraved on plaques all over the school, thanking your family for the many donations they’ve received.

You enter into Megumi’s life that way: unexpectedly. He never thanked you for intervening, but it’s not like you did it for the thanks anyway. You did it, you tell him, because you figured he needed some help.

“I had it handled.” He tells you flatly. “Why are you even sitting here? Your friends keep staring at us.”

It’s true. Stories of what happened are already circulating around both schools, and while all your friends spent the whole entire day pestering you for the full story, you chose to keep quiet about the situation. And now, here you are, choosing to sit and eat lunch with Megumi, someone who also knows the true story of what went down but the only one people aren't brave enough to ask.

Your whole entire table of friends keep their heads huddled together as they go back and forth with each other, every one of them sparing glances at Megumi’s table. It makes the rice in his mouth taste stale. He should have just stayed in the classroom to eat, especially if he knew you would be bothering him.

“Gee, is that any way to treat a friend?” You huff, not at all actually annoyed with him.

“We’re not friends.”

“Too late. I told my dad we were.”

There has been one question on his mind ever since that incident. Just who exactly is your father? He’s not stupid; he knows that you must come from a wealthy family. If the buildings and auditorium named after your family isn’t enough proof, the fact that you always have the latest toys, the nicest shoes, the cutest stationery sets — that’s material proof of a spoiled princess.

You continue speaking, and as if you can read his mind, you’re already answering his question. “My daddy’s called a CEO. But the man you saw is Mr. Higashi. He takes care of me when dad’s away at work, and everything I do gets typed up in a report that dad sees every day. He wasn’t happy about what happened, so he says the boys will get in trouble. He told us not to worry, though.” You have a pleased smile on your face, waiting for Megumi to say something in reply.

“Okay.” He says, after a while. He only spoke because it seemed like you were waiting for him to. “It doesn’t mean we’re friends.”

“What’s so wrong about being friends with me?” You tilt your head. Everyone wants to be friends with you. And that’s before they even figure out that you live in a real life mansion with actual servants, and that sometimes you’re allowed to eat dessert for dinner. Even without the wealth, you still draw people in, whether it be with your bright smile or cheery attitude.

“Don’t you already have enough friends?” He can’t figure out what you could possibly want with him. Even though Gojo’s got the backing of the clan and enough funds to run the Tokyo underground with cash to spare, it’s not like Megumi is in a position to take advantage of it. Gojo hands him a thick wad of cash every week with a tip to “spend wisely, hehehehe”, and Megumi takes the tip to heart. A majority of the money sits saved in his bedroom, underneath a floorboard he spent a week trying to figure out how to loosen without anyone catching on. (Which was actually easy whenever he realized that nobody seems to really watch him to begin with.) So, he doesn’t look like he has money, and isn’t that what all rich kids want? To surround themselves with equally rich kids?

“I guess.” Your bubbly mood seems to dampen a bit at the mention of the other kids. They like you, sure. But they like each other a lot more. The gap between you and the other kids isn’t noticeable at first, but the novelty of having an endless supply of company has lost its luster. Meanwhile, the glamor of your life only keeps the hoards of “friends” to grow as the days go by. It’s always “let’s have a sleepover at [Names]’s!” or “[Name], we have to go to your house because you have the best toys!”. You wonder if they like you, or the shiny things that they get when they’re with you. “But, it’s not like youhave any friends.”

“I don’t need any.” The response is quick — instinctual. Gojo, even if not the greatest guardian by any parental standards, still presses Megumi to have a proper (or, as proper as it can be) childhood.

(“You know, I don’t care if you bring any friends over. Just make sure no one ends up accidentally getting shot, okay, Megumi?”

Yeah, because that’s definitely gonna push him towards throwing as many parties as he wants.)

People in his position don’t have many friends. It’s hard to, he assumes, because of all the killings and betrayals and power plays.

(And, he’ll soon learn that it hurts a lot less to lose an enemy than it does a friend.)

“Hmm. Okay.”

But you don’t get up from your seat, and he doesn’t tell you to move.

The next day, you’re carrying two bento boxes. The lunches are prepared for you by world class chefs and everything is done in a rather cutesy manner to entice you into not wasting your food. The fruit is cut into pretty shapes, the food has picks with animals on them, and everything is colorful and to your own personal tastes.

You take a seat next to him once again. He looks up for a second, sees that it’s you, and returns back to his meal that looks pitiful in comparison. Leftover rice and some cold meat. You think it’s the same thing he had last time.

“For you.” You slide the second bento you had requested towards him before opening up your own.

“What’s this for?”

“For you to eat, silly.”

“...How much?”

“Huh? All of it, I guess? If you don’t like something, tell me, and I’ll request something different tomorrow.” You don’t quite understand what he’s asking you.

“No. How much does it cost? I'll bring you the money tomorrow.”

“Why would it cost you?” Now you’re really confused.

Didn’t anyone ever teach you that everything comes attached with a price? If it’s not money you want, it must be something else. At least, if Megumi’s judgments are right. (And they usually are.)

“Fushiguro, I brought you this because I want you to eat well and grow strong.”

He wonders what rice shaped like Hello Kitty has to do with his strength.

“Also, so the next time people give you or me trouble, you can fight them, okay?”

Oh. So it’s protection you want. He contemplates what he thinks your request is before popping a piece of food into his mouth. A meal made with care — he can taste the thought that’s been put into it. Shoving his old lunch to the side, he quickly starts eating at the one you brought him.

Okay. So maybe he does accept your offer.

“Meguuuumi.” You whine out his name, messing up the navy sheets of his bed while he sits at his desk, trying to finish his application for university. “I’m bored.”

“Good. Go to your own house then, and leave me alone.”

“You’re so mean to me.” You sigh, turning your head so that half of your face is pressed against his pillow. The scent of his shampoo still sticks to the fabric, and you subconsciously inhale the scent some more. It’s familiar and reminds you of him, your favorite person in the world.

No one believes you when you tell them that Megumi is your best friend. No one wants to believe that it’s true. After all, the two of you look more like a shoujo manga trope than an actual pair of best friends. The cold, inexpressive dark haired male lead with a secretive past he doesn’t want anyone to know about and the bright, bubbly, ball of energy that is constantly clinging to his side. It’s like looking at night and day with you two.

“And yet, you’re still always here.”

You’re still by his side, even when the two of you reached middle school and high school together, and he spent a majority of his time starting (and finishing) fights.

(“Get off of him!” You screamed, yanking on the collar of one of the boys who happened to be trying to grab Megumi from behind. You don’t have the same amount of strength as them, but everyone at this point knows who you are and who exactly your father is. No matter what the origin of the fight is won’t matter; all that matters is that the precious daughter of one of Tokyo’s richest CEOs got caught in it, and that’s enough to get everyone involved into some deep shit.

Immediately, the boy scampers off, and the other boy Megumi was punching into the squeaky clean floors of the hallway begins to thrash around wildly, eyes wide at the sudden sight of you. Seeing you coming from behind Megumi is like watching the sun peek through a dozen storm clouds.

Megumi gives him one last punch, not nearly as satisfied as he thought he would be. Honestly, getting into fights with low level delinquents is beneath him. It’s not just his knuckles and clothes that are getting dirty; by feeding into the school’s image that he’s this young, violent yakuza heir, he’s dirtying the prestige Gojo claims is oh so important.

“Megumi.” He straightens up at the sound of your voice, which usually sounds so sweet, especially when it’s directed towards him. Instead, you have an uncharacteristic frown on your face and you sound… mad. “Let’s go.”

You’ve got a hand wrapped around his wrist, and people part when they spot the two of you making a hasty exit. The teachers aren’t bold enough to cause a scene with you, and the students know both you and Megumi are practically untouchable — one being the spoiled brat daughter of a rich and powerful businessman, the other, a ticking time bomb with ties to the yakuza.

You don’t stop walking until the two of you are in a secluded courtyard at the school. No one goes here, mainly because it’s in such an inconvenient location and there’s nothing but trees and weeds over growing it. The two of you found it within your first week of being here, and ever since then, it’s become your designated spot to avoid prying eyes.

“I thought you were over stupid fights. You told me yourself that they weren’t the type of people worth beating up.” You scold him, forcing him to take a seat on the bench that creaks under his weight. You make a noise as you inspect the drying blood on his knuckles.

If an outsider were to look at the scene before them, they would gape at the unbecoming sight of you on your knees, in between his legs, too close for a duo who claims to be “just good friends”. But there’s nothing inherently dirty in your thoughts. Instead, you’re staring thoughtfully at his hands, inspecting the minor damage done to them.

Megumi swallows hard as he looks down on you. He shouldn’t be feeling like this — you’re his best friend, his only friend. The only person who’s by his side. If you could read in his mind, there’s no doubt that you would be recoiling away from him in disgust…)

You’re still by his side, even when he told you the truth about himself after waiting years to see if you were truly his friend or not.

(“The rumors—” He starts to say, but you shush him, rolling over on your side to face him. The two of you are lying on the grass in your massive backyard, trying to spot a shooting star that’s supposed to be passing by at any second now.

“I don’t care about that.” You tell him. Middle school was a bitch to deal with, mainly because as everyone was in the process of growing up and “maturing”, so did the rumors they spread. Now, the two of you are halfway through your first week of high school. A new school, a couple of new classmates, and new rumors surrounding the odd pair.

“If I told you the rumors about me being someone you should avoid were true, would you be mad?” He’s lying on his back, still staring up at the night sky. He’s not turning to face you, almost as if he’s scared to look at you.

“Yes.” You answer without any hesitation. “At the person who’s spreading that around.” You clarify, poking him on his side to lighten the somber mood he’s setting. “You’re the only real friend I’ve had in forever, Megumi. I don’t think what anyone says about you would change that.”

“What if I did something bad?” Like kill a person. What then? What would you think of him if he told you the full truth: that Gojo told him that he can’t shield Megumi from the dirtier aspects of this type of life. That he’s spent hours after school, hours after hanging out with you and pretending to be a normal teenager, learning how to assemble, disassemble, and then reassemble a gun. That his target practice isn’t glass bottles lined up in a row or sheets printed out with human bodies. What happens if he told you that his target practice was low level scum from rival yakuza clans that Gojo couldn’t be bothered to kill himself?

“Mmm. How bad are we talking? Like, lied to me when you said my Christmas outfit looked good but half my ass was practically exposed bad or committing a felony bad?”

“What if I told you… that I really was a yakuza heir.”

The silence is palpable and especially soul crushing to Megumi as he waits for your reply.

“It wouldn’t matter to me, Megumi.” You say. You know that this isn’t just some type of hypothetical question he’s asking for fun. From his odd living situation to the intense nature of him in general to the fact that he knows practically everything about you, but you barely know the full extent of his childhood traumas despite growing up alongside him, you know deep in your heart that there has to be something going on with him. Something dark enough to harbor stories about him.

“Are you sure about that?”

You reach for his hand in the dark, finding it without really needing to look. He’s not one that’s prone to initiating physical contact, but you found out that he doesn’t really mind when you reach for him first.

“You can’t get rid of me, no matter how crazy or fucked up you think your life is.” You squeeze his hand, still staring at him.

You don’t notice the shooting star flying past the night sky, but Megumi is looking right at it. He knows what he’s wishing for.

For your words to be true.)

You’re still by his side, even when he brought you to his sister’s bedside. She’s sick, afflicted with something no one knows, not even the private doctors that Gojo’s spent millions on. She was still conscious, albeit confined to her bed when the two of you first met, but she’s been in a coma ever since the last year of middle school. You were by his side as he broke down about the news. It was the first time you’ve ever seen him cry.

So, no matter how much it may seem like he’s pushing you away, you don’t budge. For someone smaller than him and definitely weaker, you’re awfully resilient. And while people make the occasional joke, telling you to “blink twice if you need help”, you don’t pay any attention to them. If only they knew the truth: that you’ve got Megumi Fushiguro, heir to a massive yakuza clan, wrapped around your dainty finger.

He’s so whipped that he found himself asking Gojo for a rare favor.

(“College?” Gojo rubs the back of his neck, staring at Megumi. “I mean, I guess it’ll be good for you. Meet a wild party girl, take her to your dorm room, tame her—”

“An education is the whole point of attending, you know.” Megumi interrupts him before Gojo can jump into a story highlighting all of his sexual endeavors with college girls back in the day.

“Eh. I guess.” But then a grin lights up the feature of the man who [kind of/by definition] raised him. “But y’know what I know for a fact.” He wiggles his eyebrows, his glasses slipping down his nose as he tilts his head downwards. “You wanna follow [Name].”)

It doesn’t really matter if he’s not good enough to get into the university you’ve already received an early acceptance for. Because Gojo tries to make up for being an absent father figure, he fills in those empty spaces with cold, hard cash. All it takes is one nice donation, and Megumi’s wherever he wants to be.

Where he wants to be, he realizes, is to be by your side. Wherever you go, he’ll gladly follow. Funnily enough, despite the two vastly different backgrounds the both of you come from, you both have similar means of getting what you want.

Your father had already looked over the list of universities you had in mind, and all you could do was excitedly squeal and start rambling the moment the acceptance letters came in the mail. Despite the fact that your father’s physically absent from your life most of the time, he still tries to show he cares in the things he does for you. If paying off over half a dozen major universities in order to make you happy is something he has to do, he’ll do it without batting an eye.

It’s the same thing on Megumi’s end. Granted, Gojo’s means are more along the lines of using money as a lubricant and then death as an inevitable. Money talks, a gunshot to the head silences. Nobody can accuse anyone of taking bribes if said accused person is in a grave six feet under.

Sometimes, Megumi wonders how you’re just so oblivious to the fortunate circumstances in your life. You chalk up a lot of your father’s wishes as just “good luck”. In school, you’re placed on a pedestal, revered as some goddess-like, otherworldly being. People are practically tripping over themselves, running towards you for a crumb of your attention. Anyone sane would gladly wield this power and use it for all its worth. Not you, though. Not you, who’s kind and considerate and completely clean from the corruptness that plagues everyone else.

Megumi knows good and well that he’s not a hero — couldn’t be farther from it, if he’s being honest. He doesn’t feel a moral obligation to go out and rid the world of all evil. (It’d be hypocritical, he thinks, considering the fact that he’s most likely belonging under the evil category himself.) From a young age, he’s already known and come to terms with his fate. He’s going to train and learn from the best, and eventually, he will succeed as head of the clan. That is his purpose. That right there is the reason why he’s still alive today. That is why he can find himself sitting at his desk, submitting an application that’s already guaranteed to be followed up with an acceptance letter, ready to pretend for four more years that he’s normal.

“D’you think college will be fun?” You ask him, making yourself comfortable in his bed.

“No.”

You laugh at that. You like Megumi for a lot of reasons, and his honesty is one of them. Despite the fact that he likes to keep most of the darker details of his life to himself, you know that he would never lie to you. In a world full of people who are constantly lying, it gets tiring trying to figure out who’s real and who’s fake. It doesn’t help that you want to believe in everyone either. If you didn’t have Megumi loyally staying by your side all this time, you doubt you would have made it this far in your life without anyone taking advantage of you and your kindness.

“My dad said I can finally get a boyfriend when I go to college.” You say this fact so casually that Megumi almost — almost — gets fooled into believing that this is not a cause for concern. Almost.

“Oh.” He’s at a loss for words. He knows that it’s inevitable; that one day, you’ll find a guy you like and want to get closer to him. He knows that you’re not always going to be by his side, and he knows that it’s going to happen because he’ll have to push you away eventually. The older he gets, the deeper he’s burying himself into his grave. He doesn’t want you to get caught in the crossfire.

It’s not like boys have never tried approaching you before. People have spent years thinking that you and Megumi were a couple, and then after finding out from you that the two of you are nothing more than “best friends”, boys were still hesitant to talk to you. The glare Megumi would give them from behind your shoulder acted as a strong enough deterrent.

“I know. Now the only problem is finding a guy who’ll actually wanna date me.”

“They all will.” The words leave his mouth faster than he can even think about them. He’s not wrong, though. Every time the two of you are out in public together, he sees people shooting quick glances at you, at your ass, at your bright smile. The looks they give are predatory, dangerous, even. If it’s not your looks, it’s your shining personality that draws them all in. And if that’s not good enough, there’s always the enormous wealth attached to your last name. That’s the key to getting them to stay.

“You can be so sweet sometimes, you know that?” You giggle, glad that he’s still typing away on his laptop. If he were to look at you right now, he would see that you’re reacting way too positively to such a lackluster compliment. It’s not like he listed reasons on why anyone would ever want to date you, so he probably could just be complimenting you to make you happy.

(That’s just the excuse you’re going with. You know your best friend — that means you know that he would never say something he doesn’t truly think or believe.)

There’s a secret you’ve been keeping from him. A secret so big that you think you might’ve been keeping it from yourself, too. Something so big that your body simply can’t contain it any longer.

You like Megumi.

Of course you do. You keep telling the whole world what great friends the two of you are. You talk to him about your dad all the time (which must mean he’s important, because you rarely get to speak to your dad, so you have to choose your topics of conversation wiseley). You trust him more than you trust yourself. Ever since middle school, you’ve been telling yourself that you liking Megumi isn’t anything to be ashamed or confused about. You like him because he’s your friend, and you’re supposed to like your friends.

And then you came to terms with the fact that you like Megumi beyond the borders of friendship.

It starts with you seeing him the way other girls must see him. You’re not blind, you know. It’s obvious that Megumi is far from ugly. If he wasn’t so intimidating, you’re sure he would have had his fair share of confessions, too. Megumi’s pretty, although calling him a pretty boy wouldn’t do his character justice. He’s got lashes people pay extensions for theirs to look like, and the prettiest dark blue eyes you’ve ever seen, and his hair, which he doesn’t put forth any type of effort in, always looks good whereas the same hairstyle would look messy on anyone else.

It’s not just his looks, though. Even if you look like the type of person who would judge others based on such shallow standards, you didn’t approach Megumi simply because he’s attractive. He’s… interesting. He’s got this reputation for being a delinquent, and maybe all the fights on his school record prove it, but he’s surprisingly respectful. He’s the type of guy who gets up from his seat to let an eldery woman have it. He loves animals. He’s honest and sweet despite his seemingly stoic nature, and he’s so oblivious to just how good he is.

Maybe it’s because he’s so blinded by the light that is you. You, with your cutesy bento boxes that used to be made by your team of personal chefs but are now made with your own manicured hands. You, with that bright smile of yours that he wants to always see because god — he thinks he would be willing to destroy the whole world if something were to ever make you so upset. You’re kind and beautiful and everything people write love songs about. You’re so good, and he’s nothing like you.

He’s nothing like you, because he highly doubts that you spend your time fantasizing about him like he does with you. It’s wrong, he thinks. And dirty, and disgusting, and vile. You’d hate him, he’s sure of it, if you knew what he thinks about late at night. That he sits on his bed with his cock pulled out from his shorts, leaking with precum as he strokes himself to the thought of you. Do you not see him as any other guy? Despite your lack of experience, surely you know just how dirty boys’ minds can be? You’ve got to be conscious of the fact that he’s any other guy, right? So, why — why — do you always roll around in his sheets, letting your sweet perfume stick to his sheets. Your tiny tops and skirts are always clinging tight to your body, and you never feel the need to readjust your clothing when it rides up. Do you not see him trying his hardest to look you in the eyes when the two of you are talking, despite the tantalizing sight of your skirt bunching up, exposing the smooth skin of your thighs?

Little does Megumi know (and if you have your way, he’ll never find out), you spend nights in your room, whining and trying to stuff your cunt with the same fingers that painstakingly made him his lunch. He’s your best friend since childhood. He looks at you like you’re an angel, and you don’t want to destroy that image by revealing just how dirty you really are. How every time he gets so close to you, you subconsciously bring your thighs together, trying to rub them together in a poor attempt to relieve some tension. He’d be disgusted with you, you’re sure of it. Maybe even betrayed.

Besides, it would never work out. Megumi doesn’t see you the way you see him. He might look at you with a soft look you’ve never seen him give anyone else, but that’s because you’re his only friend. It’s not like he’s harboring any hidden feelings for you, and just because you’re so convinced that there’s no one better than Megumi around, it doesn’t exactly mean that you won’t feel this way about anyone else.

Megumi’s got a rather monotone cadence with his voice, so you’re not too surprised by his seemingly unethusiatic response to you saying you’re now allowed to date. Still — there’s a slight pang of disappointment when you realize that he doesn’t sound jealous at the prospect of you dating someone else.

You decide right then and there that the healthiest thing to do now is to just bury your feelings for him deep inside your heart, to tightly pack in all those pesky feelings and store them away so you can make room to allow others to fill in his space.

gumi <3: where are you? gumi <3: i’m feeling tired and i have an assignment due tomorrow. i’m going home. gumi <3: you know i wouldn’t leave without you. cmon [name]. let’s leave now

Megumi frowns at his phone. He can clearly see that all his messages are being delivered, not to mention that he’s already called you twice and has been sent to voicemail twice. He can be patient when he wants to be, but right now, he’s getting a little pissed.

You know that he doesn’t like parties, and you know that he doesn’t hang out with the same people you do. He also knows that you don’t even really like most of the people you surround yourself with, so whyyou suddenly decided to do a 180 and reestablish your throne as the head of the social pyramid, he doesn’t know.

Lately, things between the two of you have been a little… weird. Sometimes he catches you staring at him with a sad smile on your face; one that you immediately replace with your usual one when you realize he’s looking right at you. Despite him asking you if everything’s okay, you vehemently deny that there’s anything wrong, and you’re quick to change the subject.

He thinks he’s losing his best friend, his only friend. And maybe it only hurts because he’s grown used to your presence in his life. Maybe it hurts because you’re his friend. But he knows the truth. It hurts because he’s losing you.

Did he do something wrong? Did he accidentally somehow reveal the extent of his feelings for you? Did you suddenly decide that maybe associating with someone like him isn’t something you’re meant for? Do you…

Do you hate him now?

It doesn’t matter. Maybe it does, but not right now. Right now, he’s more focused on getting the hell out of this stuffy ass living room, filled to the brim with drunken young adults and people he couldn’t care less about. The only person that matters right now is you, and he’s on a mission to find your location.

He’s got this ominous feeling in his gut, like something bad is about to happen. He’s Megumi Fushiguro, for fuck’s sake, so bad things have a habit of following him wherever he goes. But still, he’s made a personal promise to himself that no matter how bad things get, you’ll never get caught in the crossfire. He’s willing to die to keep that vow.

If you don’t reply to him, you most likely have a good reason. He doesn’t want to be clingy, is pretty damn certain he doesn’t even have a right to be, but he’s still worried about you. He’s pushing past the wall of sweaty bodies, trying to catch a glimpse of your hair color, the waft of your perfume, the familiarity of your laugh, but he can’t catch a single crumb of you anywhere.

You’re nowhere in sight, and he’s immediately filled with dread.

He yanks a guy who’s coming from upstairs.

“Ow, man, what the fuc—”

“Is anyone else up there?” Most of the time, the parties are restricted to just the first floor, with the unspoken rule being that only the upstairs should be used for people trying to fuck or to use the bathroom (or, people trying to use the bathroom to fuck). You’re not anywhere downstairs, and if you were simply using the restroom, you would have been back down here by now.

“Shit, I don’t fucking know.” The guy squints at Megumi, as if trying to see if he knows him or not. With the way his expression pales, Megumi comes to the conclusion that the guy might not really know him, but he knows ofhim. Gojo says that with the right reputation, the two concepts are practically synonymous. “But I heard a guy ‘n a girl, I think, walk past the bathroom. I don’t know who, though!”

Megumi lets go of the boy’s shirt, and he’s quick to run off before Megumi can give him any more wrinkles in his shirt — or do something much worse.

He’s thinking. Odds are, it’s probably not even you. With so many people roaming around this house, it’s likely that he just missed your presence. Your phone could have died, so that explains why he can’t reach you.

He finds himself heading up the stairs anyway.

It’s fine. He tells himself. You’re fine. You’re okay. Nobody would dare to touch a single hair on your head unless they want to suffer directly at the hands of Megumi. People around campus call him your guard dog, and it’s not necessarily a nickname he hates.

The atmosphere upstairs is vastly different from the one downstairs. There are no lights turned on, and all the doors to the rooms are closed. He hears a flush coming from one end, and out walks a tipsy girl who’s staggering a bit. There are only so many doors to choose from, and he doesn’t really want to accidentally walk in on two people trying to have sex, but the need to confirm your safety outweighs any possible embarrassment he may suffer from, so he continues on his mission.

The first two rooms are revealed to be empty, leaving just one more. Megumi takes a deep breath before trying to turn the handle.

It’s locked.

His gut is telling him something isn’t right, but he’s forcing himself to chalk it all up to paranoia. He curses under his breath, wondering why he even let you out of his sights for a single second.

Because he didn’t want to seem clingy. Because he didn’t want you to have any more reasons to keep on pushing him away.

He decides to call you one more time, and as he’s listening to the dial tone, he hears a faint sound coming from the other side of the locked door.

It’s a phone ringing.

He presses his ear against the door, trying to make out any more sounds he possibly can. Is it still a coincidence when the phone stops ringing right as Megumi is greeted with your voicemail message of “sorry, I can’t come to the phone right now, but you probably should’ve just texted me!”

Without the annoying dial tone distracting him, Megumi can listen a little more clearly to what’s going on. There’s… there’s someone crying.

The voices are muffled, but he can make out bits and pieces of what’s being said.

“—fuck up… crying like a damn bitch… want this.”

He’s heard enough before he’s banging his shoulder against the door.

“OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR!” He’s screaming, hitting it again. There’s a chance, the voice of reason inside of him is saying, that it’s not you that’s crying behind that door. Even if it wasn’t, Megumi still wouldn’t have stood by idly. But instinct is telling him that it is you, and that’s enough cause for him to bang his shoulder against the door once again. He hears a scream, and a male voice cursing.

The force of his body banding against it is enough to have the door really test the strength of its lock. Megumi’s never been the bulkiest person in the world, but he’s still got some defined muscle to him. The door is creaking, almost bending to his will, but he fumbles in the dark for the gun safely tucked away by his side.

It’s a gift from Gojo. To speed up the process when something needs to be done quick is what Gojo said it was for. He’s never used it in such close proximity to you, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

No silencer. He forgot the fucking silencer. With the deep bass rumbling from the speakers, he doubts anyone would be able to hear the gun go off anyway. He aims for the handle, pulling back the safety, and fires once, then twice. With a foot aimed at the door, he kicks at it, pleased to see the way the abused door finally bends to his will.

The open door reveals a scene that makes Megumi see red: you, with tear stained cheeks and your clothes bunched up and strewn across the floor with a guy Megumi vaguely recognizes as someone sharing the same Econ class as the two of you — Mahito.

“You fucking bastard.” Megumi practically lunges forward, tossing his gun to the side. He doesn’t see reason, is numb to common sense at this moment. All he feels is the need to hurt this fucker. To make him bleed, to have him on the brink of death, to see the light of life leave his dark eyes.

Mahito is fast, but even he couldn’t imagine the speed that Megumi would possess when pushed to the edge. This is different from the fights you’ve witnessed during school. This is something entirelydifferent.

The first punch has Mahito wincing in pain. The second, third, and fourth ones are thrown back to back, and there’s no time given to recover, no chance to gain the upper hand. He’s falling down, and Megumi’s on top of him, drawing back his fist only to slam it against him again and againand again.

Megumi knows he’s got something fucked up inside of his head — what other explanation is there to reason with why he finds this bloody violence so satisfying? His knuckles are bloody, and he can’t tell where Mahito’s blood starts and where his own ends. There’s a wild grin on his face, one that you’ve never seen before. You’re not sure if it’s a trick of the shadows, but the feral expression on Megumi’s face transforms him from your loyal best friend to something monstrous.

“‘Gumi, st-stop.” The words stumble out of your mouth as hiccups, but you don’t miss the way Megumi’s raised arm freezes in its higher position before he slowly brings it back down to his side. He’s breathing deeply, and all is silent in the room.

As if the sound of your cries is enough to snap him out of his daze, it’s almost scary how fast his mood shifts. Just a second ago, he was hellbent on beating Mahito to a bloody pulp, and now the darkness drowning those blue eyes of his is practically gone. He makes his way to the bed, each step hurried but still hesitant. Do you even want to be near him right now?

You answer his question with some more small sobs. “‘Gumi, I—”

“Shh, it’s okay, [Name].” He’s picking up your clothes from the floor, ready to help you get dressed. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

“Megumi.” His name seems to be the only thing you’re capable of saying right now. After he helps you get dressed, he’s thrown off guard when you cling to him, with your arms wrapped around his neck and your wet cheeks pressed against his shoulder.

The moment the two of you are exiting the room, both of you far too wrapped up with the other to pay him any mind, Mahito lets out a laugh before groaning at the pain Megumi inflicted.

The two of you don’t know what you just started, but no worries — Mahito has the means of ending it.

It’s only a matter of time.

You’re too good to be true.

You won’t listen to him when he tells you this (you never do), but he swears you’re a fucking angel or something otherwordly. There’s no other possible explanation for just how breathtakingly beautiful you are, or how you’re the only thing consuming his every thought. Despite the fact that all the blood on his hands has reached an amount that he’s sure he’ll never truly be able to wash it all off, you don’t shy away from his touch. As a matter of fact, it seems like you’re keening for it.

“‘Gumi.” You mewl out, sticking out your tongue to lap at the precum on Megumi’s thumb.

You’re well aware of just how dangerous your boyfriend (the title makes you giddy every time you refer to him as that) is, but you know him. You know that the hands of a killer are the hands of your lover, and most of the time, you have a hard time believing the awful things he’s had to do with them. Because right now, those hands that are meant to be weapons are handling you with care, touching you so gently, you would have thought you were made of glass and ready to shatter.

“Look at you, all spread out for me. What happened to my precious, shy little girl, huh?” He removes the hand that was cradling your face back to his cock, stroking his length, the saliva from your tongue acting as a minor lubricant. The first time he fucked you was the first time you’ve ever had sex with anyone ever, and it had been the start of an addiction. You love Megumi. You love everything about him, from his character to his tenacity, all the way down to his cock, with its red tip that’s sticky with pre and leaking out more as he stares down at the obscene position you’re in.

Your face feels warm as he stares down at you, his eyes darkened with a mix of love and lust that you don’t think you’ll ever get used to being on the receiving end of.

“Need you, need you so bad, please, ‘Gumi—” You’re staring up at him, giving him your best doe eyes.

“Fuck.” Just the sight of you beneath him, completely bending to his will, whining out for him to pretty please fuck you has him ready to cum right on the fucking spot. He’s pressing the tip in, his breathing faltering just the slightest as the warmth you provide envelopes the most sensitive part of him, nearly causing him to lose all self control right then and there.

You let out a cry as he pushes himself deeper in you, making himself at home in your gummy walls, one hand gripping your hip and the other holding onto the headboard.

“You feel so good for me, baby, shit.” He hisses, waiting for you to adjust, impatient but willing to bear it if it means it’ll feel better for you in the long run. After all, there’s nothing he wouldn’t do, nothing he wouldn’t endure, just to ensure your happiness.

“Mm — ah — please.” There are still tears welling up in your eyes — precious girl, he hasn’t even began to properly fuck you, and you’re already tearing up? The sight of you completely and willingly at his mercy is enough to get him to start rutting his hips against yours, the satisfying sound of skin slapping against skin resounding and bouncing against the walls of his bedroom that is starting to feel more like the both of yours.

“Y’feel so fuckin’ good for me, baby.” He groans, his pace quickening, the thrusts getting sharper and rougher with every roll of his hips. You’re powerless against his strength, and this type of easy submission feels so natural, feels so good, when it’s him that’s taking advantage of it. “You’ve got the sweetest pussy, y’know that? I could fuck you forever.”

His praise goes through one ear and out the other with you, but your heart swells up to twice its size. Even if you can’t focus on the words all too clearly, you’re still aware that Megumi’s probably praising you. You can come to this conclusion because he’s always praising you. He’s always so sweet, so gentle, so loving — when it comes to you, that is.

“Hng — daddy!” You can’t help but let out a high pitched moan as he hits that sweet spot inside of you that makes you buck your hips up.

There’s no way you don’t know what you’re doing. Clenching around his cock like that, making those cute little noises that he can’t help but want to hear all the time, and then calling him that.

“Daddy, daddy, daddy.”

Forget igniting something within him; you whining for him, calling him something that’s the root cause of all his childhood traumas… That’s like dousing him with gasoline and tossing a lighter at him. He’s going to burn through all his energy, channel all this dark, feral energy, and use you as the one unfortunate enough to be on the receiving end.

He fucks into you so deeply that if your eyes weren’t shut tight, there’s no doubt that you wouldn’t see the unmistakable shape of his cock outlined against your tummy. The headboard is banging against the wall, and the squelching sounds of him roughly thrusting in and out of your sopping cunt is so lewd and so dirty that if you had any room to harbor a single ounce of shame, you would be downright embarrassed.

“How about you make me a daddy, huh? How about I fuck a baby in you?” He won’t lie and say it’s not something that’s never crossed his mind. The thought of your stomach round with a life the two of you created is enough to get him to continue with this near-brutal pace he’s set forth. “Doesn’t it sound nice, baby? My baby giving me a baby, what—” He grits his teeth as you tighten up. “—a fucking dream.”

“Baby. Wanna have your babies.” You cry out, tears spilling out and wetting your cheeks as your arms find their way to his neck and broad shoulders, trying to pull him in closer. The heat building up from within you feels like you’re about to fucking explode. “‘Gumi, I love you, Iloveyoupleasegimmeababy—'' Your words are practically unintelligible as you slur them out, the words sticking together as you cum all over his cock, all that pleasure that has been building up now physically tangible, if the white ring encasing his cock every time he pulls out is evidence.

“Fuck! You feel so fucking good. Always so fuckin’ tight.” He’s reaching his own end, and you’re just lying there, trying to recover from such an intense orgasm but unable to as your too sensitive walls clench around the constant intrusion of his cock. Spurred by your little love confession and his mind imagining his daydreams coming true — you, as his cute little housewife, taking care of the kids the two of you made together — he finally shoves himself as deep as he physically can, making sure that as he cums, nothing will spill out.

“‘Gumi.” You whisper, your head resting against his chest, listening to the beat of his heart. “Did you mean it when you said you wanted to start a family?”

He’s silent for a minute.

“I wouldn’t mind starting a family with you.” And he means it. He knows this life isn’t one meant for children — look at how he turned out, for god’s sake — but he thinks that for you, he can do anything. Even make a family work out. As long as it’s what you want, he doesn’t mind how hard it may be.

You snuggle closer to him, burying your face in the warmth of his chest. “Good.” You mumble. “I wanna start a family with you, too.”

Megumi feels… at peace. Like he’s got the whole entire world in the palm of his hands. He wraps his arms around you, and realizes that no — right now, he’s got his world right in his arms.

Mahito likes to play with his food before he devours them whole.

Humans are just so… vulnerable. Even the coldest people have a heart; it’s only a matter of whether or not they find someone warm enough to defrost it. Megumi Fushiguro, for example, likes to walk around this world, acting indifferent and claiming to follow his own moral conduct, only to give himself the biggest weakness he could possibly harbor: you.

He still remembers that party. He still remembers the way you were dressed like a little slut, completely oblivious (or maybe you were just acting coy) to the wolfish stares all the guys were giving you. He had the same class as you. Seen the way you clung to Gojo’s charity case, as if the ground would swallow Megumi whole if you let go of him. You’re cute, and you scream naive virgin, and that’s precisely why Mahito wanted to take you to that bedroom and have his way with you.

And then, your infamous little guard dog bared his teeth and pummeled him into the hardwood of a stranger’s bedroom floor.

Grudges are cancerous. If you don’t deal with it right away, it develops into something worse. It takes over all your internal organs, ruining you ‘til the only thing you can focus on is getting revenge. And the longer you wait, the more vengeful you get. It doesn’t become a matter of ruined pride or reestablishing honor — it becomes about inflicting the most pain one possibly can. It becomes about suffering — about transferring your pain, your anguish, onto someone else.

Mahito isn’t the type to hold grudges, but for Megumi, he’ll make a special exception. He wants to see just how well trained the boy is; after all, he’s been taken under the wing and supervision of Satoru Gojo, the myth himself. Surely, his student must be nearly as skilled, right?

It’s been a long game of watching and waiting on Mahito’s end. A lot of lurking in the shadows and gathering intel. It’s a lot more boring than he anticipated, but today’s the day where all his hard work finally comes to fruition. Megumi Fushiguro is going to regret ever interfering with him that one fateful night. The burning humiliation he’s felt has long since fizzled out, but since he’s already been set on the path of orchestrating Megumi’s destruction, he figures it only makes sense to see it through. You only can let go of a grudge after you get your proper revenge.

He’s been leaving Megumi all sort of taunting, teasing threats any chance he gets. Mahito’s got nothing but disgraced yakuza members on his side; those who have committed acts vile enough to get them kicked out of what is essentially a group of criminals. He knows how to be twisted — hell, twisted might be the only thing he knows how to be.

Killing girls that resemble you and sending him the photos. Taking videos of you when you’re out in public alone. Leaving voicemails for Megumi, ones that leave him pale faced and unable to breathe as he listens to how Mahito wants to tortue you.

Megumi’s been on edge for the past few months, unable to explain to you why. It’s why you don’t understand why Megumi won’t let you go back to your car, even though you left your phone in there.

“I’ll go. Or, we can go together.”

“You have to wait for our coffee! And besides, I don’t even know where I left my phone. It might not even be in the car, but you’ll just waste your time searching for it if it’s not there.”

“So then why do you have to go look for it?”

“Because it’s my phone? Also, I reeeeeallly don’t wanna have to wait for our coffee, so I figured looking for my phone in the car would kill some time.” You give him that sweet smile of yours that he loves so much before waving him goodbye. “I’ll be back by the time our order is ready, pinky promise!”

At the end of the day, it’s all luck. Mahito realizes this as you happily skip out of the crowded cafe, headed towards your car to search for your phone. He doesn’t know why you’re returning back to your car, doesn’t even really care. All he knows and all he cares about is that you’re headed there alone. And while you’ve been alone plenty of times, he’s never had an opportunity quite like this one. A chance to finally detonate the bomb that’s been lying dormant underneath your car, ready to be activated at the press of a button. He could’ve killed you plenty of times already, but it’s not enough to merely murder you. He wants to make it a spectacle, sure, but he also only cares about one audience member watching: Megumi.

From where he’s hiding, blending in with the rest of the customers from the bakery across the street, he’s got a decent enough view of Megumi, who’s sitting by the glass windows, watching you with furrowed brows as you unlock the car door.

Mahito can’t help the cruel smile that spreads across his face as pushes the remote connected to the bomb.

Nobody expects to hear the loud, resounding boom of something exploding. The surrounding cars parked next to yours have their alarms going off like crazy; it’s nothing but high pitched, blaring noises blending together to create a disruptive harmony. People are screaming, someone is on the line with emergency services, and—

—your precious car is set aflame, reduced to a burning pile of scrap metal no salvage yard will take.

In this moment, Megumi Fushiguro’s world crumbles to ashes.

#megumi fushiguro x you #megumi fushiguro x reader #megumi fushiguro x y/n #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #megumi x reader #angst #fluff #one shot #drabble #smut #megumi smut #jjk smut #jjk imagines #yakuza au #THIS IS SO OLD IM CRYING #like rereading it... omg what was i ON???

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ohboyhowdybuckaroo · 24 days

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As a way to celebrate the end to the first arc of the ASL Gem AU, here's a couple of headcanons and things I put in the story that I was proud of. Also, some shitty memes I doodled and thought were funny. I put all the headcanons and neat things under the read more because there are spoilers for Keep It Simple, Stupid in there.

Luffy actually got poofed four times throughout the events of the first chapter. Two of them were depicted on screen, but the other two were when Ace got him caught in a landslide in their first meeting and when he came back to the bandit hut on the wolf and broke a hole in the wall getting tossed off of Kebab. Ace could've sword that landslide would have poofed Luffy and, I mean, he's not wrong.

Whery told me BTS that Sodalite's hair remains suspended in air as if it's flowing through water at all times. He's got mermaid hair, everyone. Love this guy.

The reason Sodalite struggles to unfuse is because... 🥁 🥁 🥁 He has a hard time unfusing when his components feel unsafe. That doesn't stop anyone strong enough from poofing him (A la Garp) or Sabo and Ace having such a strong disagreement that they come undone (a la the argument before the final fight with the wolves or when Ace post-getting-Luffy'd has conflicted feelings about ditching Luffy with Amethyst and co.).

In the process of plotting this, I wasn't sure how to translate the money-saving-schemes into this AU for the boys. The general layout of the plot is similar to canon, but I wanted to mix things up a little. That led to the parts scrounging aspect, which led to Ace and Sabo having their own waterfall cave instead of having a tree that they keep things in because I didn't think a tree could properly hide most of their junk from sight that close to the Kindergarten.

Sodalite never actually introduced himself to Luffy. (Cursed with Ace's tendency to never make a good first impression.) He learned Sodalite's name when a few gems and people were yelling in panic at their first meeting.

There's another nod to Sodalite inheriting Ace's bad first impressions when he first "meets" the bandits when literally dropping Luffy off after saving him and also when he meets Woop Slap and Makino.

Also continuing Ace's penchant for bad first impressions, he really did get put through the ringer with Makino when he first reformed. I gave him hell this whole arc, didn't I? Poor guy.

Herc and Agna are my contributions to the Dadan Family. I wanted to flesh their numbers out a little bit since we only ever know the names of Dadan, Magra, Dogra, and Pochi. I hope you like them... They're silly. (And probably in love tbh.)

Speaking of them, they made a bet on whether Luffy killed Ace in the beginning of the third chapter and you can see them exchanging money in the sixth chapter when it's revealed that Ace isn't actually dead.

I also added Woop Slap's baker brother, a Beryl to the Azurite crew who stood around while Luffy got his ass electrocuted, and a couple of random characters here and there with no canon version just for the hell of it. Got the chance to flesh this out a little bit thanks to focusing on a small sequence of events compared to the Odyssey that is One Piece canon.

In the second chapter, there are a few things that Sodalite and Luffy say in a couple of the conversations post-saving Luffy from the Azurite Pirates that get called back to.

Sodalite: You can’t be brave unless you’re scared. And if the first hint of danger has you sniffling and running away like a chicken, you’ll never be brave.

This one is a little more obvious. It gets reflected back in chapter 5 when Luffy is in the process of trying to help Kebab out from where he's trapped. Luffy is a bit of a coward and a crybaby when he's younger in canon and in this story. He builds up confidence with being rubber (Though I replaced his rubber body helping to protect him with him being able to reform quickly), having two older brothers to protect him, and eventually his own fighting skills in canon, but I wanted to add a little more oomph to it.

Luffy: I'm not crying, you're crying!

Sodalite: That's not how tears work, squirt.

This one reflects the flashback to when Ace and Sabo fused for the first time. I figured it would help soften Sodalite up to Luffy with the little nod.

Ace: I'm not crying, you're crying, stupid.

Sabo: That's not how tears work, idiot.

There's another point that gets called back to in a conversation between Luffy and Sodalite, but this is the conversation when Sodalite starts to refer to Luffy as "Luffy" mentally and not just Spinel.

Sodalite: Free and kind, huh? Free how?

Luffy: Free to go where I wanna go. Do what I wanna do. Be who I wanna be.

Sabo thinks back to this when he's poofed and trying to figure out what he wants to look like. Freedom is hard to get used to when you're used to a regimented lifestyle. I think it's called choice anxiety, but even though he wants freedom, he still has to learn how to be free, if that makes sense.

Speaking of that conversation between Sodalite and Luffy, I tried to switch up what he was called in the narrative based on whose POV I'm talking through. In the beginning, when Sabo, Ace, or Sodalite are thinking about Luffy, they consistently refer to him as "Spinel." When it's Luffy's POV, Luffy only referred to himself as "Luffy." Eventually, after the heart-to-heart they have in chapter 3, Sodalite, Ace, and Sabo also only refer to Luffy as "Luffy."

Prior to the narrative, Sodalite didn't have a lot of room to grow or a lot of interaction with people outside of battle or when he's alone when Ace and Sabo needed comforting. Being around Luffy and the circumstances of which they can't unfuse gave Sodalite the opportunity to become more of his own person.

I used he/they pronouns for a lot of the story to reflect the Sodalite-not-being-completely-his-own-person as even Sodalite still saw himself as Ace and Sabo and not just Sodalite. He's aware he's a fusion, but he's only now settling into the idea that he is a new person as well.

Ace thinks that Dadan and the bandits don't care about him for most of the story and they don't help things by pretending not to care that he's "gone" when Sodalite's around. However, at the beginning of the fourth chapter, I tried to give a little nod to Dadan being worried about Ace with her sometimes smoking late at night on the porch and staring into the forest. She was looking for Ace and worried about him, but Sodalite can't tell because Ace is blind to kindness. Dadan was losing sleep over you, you dummy.

True to canon fashion, I tried to limit how much I used Luffy's POV as in canon he doesn't really have a lot of internally kept thoughts as much as he doesn't have a filter between mental reaction and physical reaction. Thus, when I did have to use Luffy's POV, I tried to switch it to another character as soon as I could.

Whery once posted an animatic wherein they used the Ben 10 clip of Kevin saying, "You have to treat a car like you treat a woman," and I pretty much used that to shape Sodalite amd Makino's dynamic in my head which led to the way Sodalite and, by extention, Ace feel nervous around Makino, but the nerves just make it harder for them to say the "right" things.

These four posts gave me psychic damage and were the kick in the ass that got me to write K.I.S.S. to begin with. Literally got so wrapped up in them that I wrote a whole fanfic. I was originally going to just write the Luffy and Sabo reunion in Dressrosa. A couple hundred words in, I realized I should probably just start in the beginning to fluff it up with some history. Then I fell in love with Sodalite and underestimated how much I would get into the AU, so now we're here.

Y'all can take Ace being nervous around Makino however you want, but my intention was that kind people throw him off his game. This was meant to reflect how he's a mama's boy in canon and the pedestal-ing he did with his mother. (Rouge is a goddess, though, so like... he's not wrong.)

I tried to write it so Ace Literally Does Not Know how to be anything but a scruffy and snappy little kid since he was raised by bandits and Garp isn't the picture of healthy communication. With the Makino interaction post-reforming in chapter 5, I wanted her to nudge him into realizing that there's another way to handle disagreements and not every time he fucks up will lead to violence or yelling. Easing his toes into the water.

I went back and forth for a while on the scene in chapter 6 where Ace is about to run away. I was very iffy on if it was in-character for him to leave behind his only friends and everything he ever knew. But I also remembered how he acted in canon when people were putting themselves in danger for him and, yeah, pushing people away when people might get hurt """"because of"""" him fit well.

Is it weird that my favorite scene to write was in the 6th chapter when Sabo and Luffy knock a gem into a barrel and run away? I just felt my heart get full being able to write them getting closer and being chaotic together... Can't wait to write these three being chaotic together more.

It was very cathartic for me personally to write the scene where Sodalite first plays guitar for Luffy in chapter 2 and the scene in chapter 6 where Ace bursts out laughing when they fall over.

Sabo and Ace met when they both stumbled upon their cave and started having a turf war over who it really belonged to. They eventually became friends, but naturally, it took a minute and some fighting before then.

Most of the people and gems around don't care one way or another about fusion. Garp, as a gem higher up, cares based on principle and because he's old as dirt and was around when the "No Fusing" rule was more radically reinforced.

Fire Agates were "made" to be demolition gems (AKA why they have the fire going on and are typically very strong). Due to this, Ace can keep more items within his gem that can vary in size. Sabo can keep some things in his gem, but they typically have to be small to medium. Luffy could theoretically keep a lot in his gem, but I genuinely don't think he thinks about it unless he's storing food.

Luffy eats and sleeps because he first formed around the mixed population of humans and gems in Foosha Village and just thought it was neat. Now, he has sort of programmed his gem so he sleeps at night like people do, but he doesn't need to. He just likes it. Silly lil guy.

Ace was initially put off by Luffy wanting to use a different name than his gem type because he struggles with his own identity as a Fire Agate. Using a different name feels like running away from the realities of your gem type. Ace is plagued by his own gem type and feels like he can't run away, so Luffy so casually giving himself a name was foreign to Ace and made him a little bit jealous tbh.

Sabo similarly wasn't willing to call Luffy by his name because he felt cursed by his gem type. He's less touchy about it than Ace, though because he understands Luffy's desire to want to be his own person-- whoever that may be.

I changed Sabo's gem type from Labradorite to Moonstone because he has had some really neat fanart made of him that was Moon themed, and I thought that was really cute. There's some more to learn about Sabo that I've been hinting at, but y'all will find out sometime later.

Shanks was the person who made Luffy realize that he could have whatever name he wanted. I might write it out someday, but it basically went, "woah, I wish I had a cool name," "You can call yourself whatever you want. What, did you think Makino's name is her gem?" "... So what if I did?!" *whole crew laughs at Luffy* "Well, what do you want us to call you?" and the rest was history.

Ace and Sabo will eventually be able to bubble things. Ace can make bigger ones, but Sabo's are less likely to burst when messed with. Luffy could theoretically create bubbles, but I don't really think Luffy's the type to want to capture things in bubbles outside of beetles, and that's easy enough to make Sabo or Ace do.

I took some very vague inspiration from Zuko from ATLA and Ruby from Steven Universe when thinking about Ace's fire abilities. I wanted him to have pyrokinetic abilities, but struggle to use them thanks to some internal turmoil. Thus, his powers come from strong bursts of negative emotions and typically just sprout out around his body. (Yes, he has caused a forest fire before.)

Sabo can create light constructs similar to how Pearl does in Steven Universe. Thinking about Sodalite getting a little more showboat-y with his music and doing light shows? Eventually, fire blasting out of places like some bands do at concerts. That would be metal as fuck.

Sodalite literally always radiates warmth wherever he's at. He's a space heater. You can see a little bit of this in the 3rd chapter when he sits near Woop Slap to keep the old man warm.

Luffy still has the stretchy abilities of a Spinel, but he's still new to using them. In the first chapter when he's got an arm wrapped around Kebab the wolf, it only happened because he got his hand stuck on a spike and Kebab the wolf rolled around trying to get him off. He also has a lil toon force action going on. I tried to show this with a couple of scenes here and there. (When he falls into the ravine, when he runs into a tree in one chapter, the Luffy shaped hole in the bandit hut when he gets flung off Kebab into it, etc.)

I don't even know where the nickname idea of "Squirt" came from. I just thought it would be a funny nickname (derogatory) and it kept reoccurring in my brain and in the writing until it became squirt (affectionate). Who doesn't get called dumb names by your older siblings?

That eventually expanded into Sodalite handing out derogatory nicknames. You mostly see that with Garp. (Bootlicker, marble muncher, etc.) Sodalite is teaching Luffy how to be an even bigger little shit and I love to see it.

I didn't originally plan for the wolves to show up outside of the couple of times they appeared in the first chapter. Then, when I was writing the third chapter I needed a reason to have Garp escort Makino and Woop Slap to the bandits and then I wanted a reason to get Luffy and Co. to go to Foosha Village, so tada.

I especially didn't plan for Kebab to become Kebab. However, I wanted each of the brothers to take out a wolf in their own ways and Luffy just isn't prepared to fight creatures 1v1 right now, so I cooked up the idea of him becoming a pet thereafter.

Damn, that was a lot. Thanks for reading! Go check out @where-does-the-heart-lie for all the cool art they did for this AU, but please don't bother them for more art. I'm pretty sure they're not all that into the AU anymore, but they do have a lot of other cool posts and a comic they're working on for the boys if you need more ASL bros content. They also made a post with several drawings they wanted to do after reading that correspond with several events in the story if you wanna check that out.

That's it for now! Good luck, y'all. I'll be back with some kinda writing soon-ish.

#one piece #one piece au #portgas d. ace #flame emperor sabo #revolutionary sabo #monkey d. luffy #asl brothers one piece #one piece fanfiction #k.i.s.s. gem au #ao3 fanfic #my art #Fanfiction #Headcanons #Gem AU #Steven Universe AU

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yuri-is-online · 24 days

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Hi hi so can we have an expansion of middle school Floyd completely being his unfiltered self around yuu (maybe even octotrio going like "Oh please don't believe that merculture is like this" because middle school Floyd is embarrassing them in front of their crush) PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE

Hmmm

So Floyd says morays are cowards right, but my experiences with little kids tell me that they don't always have the best sense of self-preservation. I picture little Floyd as one of those kids on crack. He thinks this human is cute! Especially because they don't have the sense to be afraid of him at all and are calling him cute, that's real funny. What if he just takes a big chomp outta ya, will you still think he's cute? As for the embarrassment, well...

Azul

It comes from how blunt little Floyd is.

He's got even less patience for Azul's plans than big Floyd does, and the complete inability to see the value of waiting for the pay off. He's actively getting angry at him and throwing temper tantrums every time Azul tries to smooth things over with Yuu.

"No you can't get the ability to breathe underwater from kissing a mermaid Floyd is making that up. And no not all merfolk are obsessed with legs that's just a him thing-"

"Nah Azul really likes your legs and pretty much everything you do with them!" Little Floyd is loud enough that other people than just you are looking at him in confusion (Azul is convinced it is overwhelming judgment) because he's choking on a mixture of spit and air because how did he pick up on that already?!? Azul thinks he's so subtle when he admires you, he's got to be so you don't think he's weird.

He can't wait for this to be over, he can handle being made fun of by the twins now since they've got a good rapport and he can give as good as he gets but little Floyd is like a sea otter with a clam, he just won't let this go because he thinks octopus courtship is boring and he's not above saying that. Outloud. In front of you.

Jade

It's from how willing he is to throw Jade under the bus.

Floyd knows Jade pretty well, even if it's a younger version of him so he knows just how down bad stupid Jade is within 15 seconds and he is determined to "help."

Said help is mostly just humming a very specific song while swimming around you in circles and doing little tricks to "set the mood." Or asking you what you think about Jade when he thinks he's out of earshot, something he's never once been since little Floyd got summoned.

He thought this would be fun, Floyd is always so delightfully unpredictable and now there's two of him! But instead of bothering Azul he's decided to torture Jade and ruin his carefully cultivated image instead. He sort of gets why Azul was so determined to get rid of all his childhood photos now, you're never going to look at him the same after this.

When his efforts don't work because Jade is too much of a coward little Floyd starts just telling you a bunch of stuff they got up to as kids in an effort to embarras him. It clearly works from how quick Jade is to shove him to the side but you're polite enough to keep the laughter to a minimum. For the most part

Floyd

It comes from how much of a coward he is.

Floyd is waiting for the right time to speak with you, when he's extra sure that you feel the same as he does. When he knows you'll accept everything he wants to give you and more.

But no. Little him has to say everything that comes into his mind. "Are your legs soft? Why are you leaking seawater? Do all humans really only have ten toes and can I count them-"

If you find this funny, I think it might depress him somewhat. He wants you to see all the ways he's smart and not brush him off as an unserious joke. If you think it's cute, well that's a mix of emotions. He doesn't want you to see him as cute now, but it's ok if you find morays cute, and even nicer if you find baby morays cute. That thought alone perks him up.

Until little Floyd starts telling Yuu he thinks they're cute. Then he gets possessive and starts competing with himself like a looser. Probably by picking Yuu up and carrying them away since his legs are longer and he can get away faster.

#<3 asks #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #floyd leech x reader #jade leech x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #I'm writing this on my phone so apologies if there's any typos #I'm thinking about getting soup #or pizza #... probably just gonna have some cereal though

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dandylovesturtles · 1 year

Text

listen ok I know shit is dire in CAS land (by @somerandomdudelmao) but I had this stupid idea and it's a slow day at work and I type fast so here you go I didn't proofread this at all

I'm sorry I made it silly

Massive spoilers if you haven't read the new CAS update

...

"I can fix it," is a much easier thing to say than to do. Casey's thinking that as he takes long, quick strides through the lair, turning the problem over in his head as fast as he can. He hopes Uncle Tello can't hear the parts of his thoughts that are in a panic, but based on their conversation before he probably can.

Uncle Tello doesn't say anything about it, and Casey kind of wishes he would, just for the reassurance that he's still there.

He's so absorbed in his thoughts he doesn't notice Donnie (the younger Donnie, the physical Donnie) standing in front of him until it's too late and he's already collided with his back. Coffee spills everywhere, though thankfully it only splashes his plastron where he can't get burned.

Younger Donnie whirls, something distinctly murderous in his eye that feels so weird and wrong directed at Casey. It cools only slightly when Donnie processes it wasn't one of his brothers bumping into him, and somehow that feels just as weird, that Donnie has to readjust his feelings to accommodate the unfamiliarity. (He's not family, not to this Donnie.)

"Is something chasing you?" Donnie snaps.

"Uh... no-"

"Is there a fire?"

"No, but-"

"Do you need glasses?"

"I don't... think so?"

"Then watch where you're going!"

He spins on his heel and marches off, toward the kitchen to get more coffee, Casey assumes. For a moment he's left too off kilter and dumbfounded to remember what he was doing.

Then Uncle Tello's voice in his head startles him out of it. What just happened?

Oh, uh... I ran into the other version of you.

Ran into?

Literally. I spilled his coffee.

Ah, and he didn't take it well.

And Casey knows he shouldn't stop for this. Casey knows they may be on limited time and he has to fix this and Uncle Tello shouldn't have to listen to his whining about things that don't matter.

But he's been holding in so many feelings for so long and even if it's just in his head, hearing his uncle's (dad's) voice makes it rush out of him before he can stop it.

I don't think he likes me very much. I touched his shell the other day and he snapped at me. I got mad at him when he touched your tech and that made him mad, too. I don't know how to talk to him.

He doesn't really know how to talk to any of them, is the thing. It used to be the easiest thing in the world, and now it's a wall he hasn't yet learned how to scale.

He can feel his thoughts spiraling against his will. He doesn't have time for this, but the grief and the lack of sleep and the lack of easy affection are all mixing together with the weirdness of it all into a dangerous Molotov cocktail of emotions and he's not sure what will light the fuse.

Casey Jr, says Uncle Tello's voice.

Uncle Tello?

Do you want to see something really funny?

Casey can't help but make a strangled noise at the back of his throat, one that isn't a laugh but isn't a cry either. Something funny?

Yeah. Trust me, it'll be hilarious. Go to my lab.

Casey hesitates. He doesn't let me in there without him...

I feel confident I outrank him. Wait, how old is he?

Sixteen.

Ahhh, that explains it. I know I'm an absolute delight now, but at that age I could be a real pill.

It startles an actual laugh out of Casey. Without arguing further, he rushes to Donnie's lab, quick before he can finish brewing his coffee.

How do I get in?

Is this the subway?

Yeah.

Okay, there's a manual override for the voice lock hidden in one of the wall panels, should be... three to the left, middle of the door. Give that a good knock. Shave and a haircut~

Casey does as directed, and the panel slides back, revealing a flat, glossy keypad.

What's the access code? he asks, feeling like they're on some secret mission now. Maybe it doesn't fall into what people in this time consider normal, but to Casey this is standard stuff. He falls into the rhythm of it like a well loved song.

Oh one one four twenty one twenty seven, says Uncle Tello.

Casey punches it in and the door slides open. He slips inside and hits the button to close and lock the door behind him. Donnie still hasn't returned; the mission is proceeding as planned.

Wasn't that the code for one of the weapons lockers in the old- at base?

Yes, it was. Poor security protocol to reuse codes, I know, but I'm partial to that one.

What is it?

Atomic Lass's birth date. Uncle Tello pauses, then adds, Has he shown you any of the old Atomic Lass episodes of Jupiter Jim?

Uh, no...

Ah, continuing to fail my already low expectations, Teen Tello. Never mind, we'll worry about that later on.

Later on. Right, they shouldn't be doing this, they should be trying to fix Uncle Tello, they should be-

To my computer, Casey Jr! I can't type so you'll have to do it for me.

Uncle Tello's voice pulls him out of his reverie, and he hurries to do as he's told.

Uncle Tello walks him through passwords and then through navigating the OS. It's old and out of date compared to what they had in the future (Donatello's custom OS, better than the hacks at Apple and Microsoft, or so he said), but when Casey had called it old and out of date Donnie had gotten mad about that, too.

Ada Lovelace, this is old, says Uncle Tello's voice now, and incredibly Casey laughs again.

But they find what he's looking for and then input a series of commands into the command line. Casey isn't familiar with all of them, but if he had to guess, they just sent a video from late 2019 to every device in the lair.

Alright, mission accomplished, time to retreat, says Uncle Tello's voice, and he hurries out of the lab, just in time to hear a ping from the phone in his pocket.

He pulls it out and watches the video. It's Donnie, only slightly younger than the teen Casey now lives with, adjusting the camera before grinning and posing in front of it. He's in his lab, though a different one than the one here in the subway. He looks cocky.

He moves further back from the camera so his entire body is framed in its lens, then steps onto a skateboard. He glides in a circle for a moment, then jumps to try and do some kind of trick. Casey doesn't know the name of it, but what he does know is that Donnie's feet get caught in his board, and he ends up tumbling to the floor, crashing in an undignified heap, arms splayed out and face smooshed against the concrete.

It shouldn't be funny.

(It's pretty funny.)

It seems the others echo this sentiment, because suddenly Casey can hear laughter erupting from elsewhere in the lair.

"OMIGOSH! Barry, you gotta watch this!"

"HAHAHAHA BRO ATE SHIT!"

"Hah... Don't worry Donnie, I'm sure you'll get it next ti-hahahahaha!"

There's the sound of scurrying feet, and then Donnie slides into the hall, glaring at Casey who forgot he should be moving away from the crime scene.

"YOU!" he screeches.

Casey freezes. What is he supposed to say? What excuse does he have? The you in my head told me to do it? Yeah right.

Casey does the only sensible thing and turns to run.

Casey Jr?

Uncle Tello!?

What's happening now?

The other you is after me!

Oh. Well. Better run fast.

Casey turns on the speed, sprinting down the corridor and toward the only exit he knows, Donnie hot on his trail.

Why is every younger version of you so scary!?

Oh please, there's no way that scrawny, barely pubescent mess is scary. Have you ever heard his voice crack?

...Well, yeah...

See? Hilarious. And we didn't even have to pull up my browser history.

Okay, but none of this helped us fix anything.

Ah well. One problem at a time.

#dandy fanfiction #rottmnt #cass apocalyptic series #future casey #casey jones jr #future donatello #rise donatello #I'm sorry #I said this was silly but there's angst in here too but it's mainly silly #idk how cass will actually have them be #but in my head future donatello and present donatello exist to antagonize each other

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ofswordsandpens · 5 months

Text

I've enjoyed episode 3 the most so far, but I think the show is still struggling to find a good balance between taking itself seriously and the absurdist humor that RR writes with. My main takeaways:

The Fight Scenes (or Lack Thereof?)

It seems very peculiar to me that the show is just speed running through its battle scenes. Again, it feels very much like the product of Disney trying to sanitize anything that's too extreme?

The trio fleeing from the kindly ones in the book ended with Percy taking control of the bus and then crashing it. It explodes. They lose all of their stuff (money, food). In the show, they simply bail out the back window. No true panic. No tension. Just, okay :) we're leaving now :)

The Medusa Scene. I'll speak more to this later, but in terms of the fight we get to see... well we get to see nothing. Apparently this fight required us to view it through the lens of the invisibility cap (ie. not at all),

I understand this show is intended for a younger audience, but the books are as well. Even the movies, which are pg, came up with better ways to show things without necessarily showing things. As a result, it feels like anything that might induce the slightest bit of tension or fear are sanded down and its honestly doing such a disservice to the books and the audience.

Medusa

I actually really liked this portrayal of Medusa. The 1950s housewife vibe landed well for me. And I loved the actress's voice -- very soft and soothing but always sounding as if she were just about to cry.

Also, I really liked her dialogue. Her digs at Athena and Poseidon were perfectly tragic.

That being said, I really prefer the trio's arrival to the emporium in the book. In the books, they've been wandering the woods and are lost and exhausted and hungry because of the battle/bus crash where they've lost all of their stuff. It almost feels like the emporium popping up "out of nowhere" was more of it finding them.

Meanwhile in the show, Grover finds it through scent on a satyr path and they immediately know its Medusa, which imo takes out so much of the fun of it all??? In the books, they dont know. Grover's just like, freaking the ever living fuck out, and clearly Percy and Annabeth have let him take sole custody of the shared brain cell, cause they're more concerned about getting some food than anything else

Just... RIP dumbass shenanigans

And honestly, I'm not really sure what necessitated the change here in the show (of them not being tricked). It would have been one thing if they were going to change Medusa entirely to not wanting to harm them at all, but imo, I think its arguable/evident that show Medusa was looking for an excuse to petrify Annabeth and Grover (at minimum) regardless of anything.

Honestly, I would have had the show loosely play it out as: book arrival (they dont know its Medusa), keep the dumbass energy and banter, the trio figures out it Medusa while they're eating, Medusa is the more sympathetic version we see in the show, regardless it still ends with the battle.

Also, I do mourn the book battle. The panic and absurdity is just handled better imo. Annabeth shoving them off the bench, Grover flopping all over the place with the shoes but actively getting a good few hits in, Percy having to use to the reflection to behead her... the #TeamWork was emphasized a little more there to me.

Characterization

I think the show is absolutely nailing certain parts of the characters.

They've gotten Percy's anger and his derision towards the gods down. But, I think they're actually underscoring some of his, idk, sincerity? His kindness? It was the line "she met a pinecone's fate" that just rang off to me. While undoubtedly funny, it's just such a stark difference from his reaction to Thalia's story in the books, where he was unsettled by her fate and felt a sincere sympathy for her. The line in the show I assume is meant to criticize the gods, but still, it feels like it comes at the expense of the sensitivity that he has.

They've gotten Annabeth's bluntness, intelligence, pride, and superiority down cold. No question about it. But I feel like they just need to let her be more of a 12yo kid?

Like. In canon she and Percy banter and argue over the silliest of things. She plays hacky sack with Grover and Percy. She blushes and hyperventilates when Luke interacts with her. Episode 3 is like the first time we've gotten to see her do something remotely childish (buying all that candy) and I'm just dying for more of that!! She's not the "mom" of the group and she has her canon dumbass moments. I'm hoping more of this is captured moving forward. They've gotten a good start on the banter, but let Annabeth be more silly! Cause she is!

(Absolutely none of my personal qualms about the characterization are Walker or Leah's fault. They've done amazing. It's the writing/directing I'm side-eyeing).

OH! And I'm sorry but Percy being like "Annabeth we're going to bury medusa with your hat on" would have never ever flown with Annabeth. In no world.

But Grover eating them up at the end? Iconic. Good for him.

#pjo adaptation #pjo show crit #pjo

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giddyfatherchris · 5 months

Text

Bunny threat

Pairing: bts x gn!reader (platonic)

Genre: crack? comedy? all good stuff haha

Warnings: None

Word count: 820

Requests: Open for stray kids and bts!

A/n: okay so funny thing. I wrote this a billion years ago, and forgot it existed (tbh i also forgot i had this account lol). Since i want to bring this page back to life i thought i could update the original version (and correct some grammar mistakes lol) and bring it back as my first official post. So here we go! I hope you like it :))

*gif is not mine

“Stop practicing and come eat!” shouted Jin for the fifth time.

You were all at the studio rehearsing a few new choreos for an upcoming performance. It was now 8:00 pm, and the delivery guy just came in with his precious cargo. As soon as the good smell of the local Korean meals filtered into the room, your seven friends instantly stopped what they were doing to rush on the food like starved men.

“Y/N! Come before Taehyung eats everything!” urged Yoongi. You faintly heard him scold his younger brother, as he was probably trying to steal said food.

“Won’t be long. Just let me get this last move right!”

Still in the dance studio part of the room, you just couldn’t be satisfied with the execution of a certain move. It wasn’t precise enough, and you couldn’t eat without having this part right. It would be a defining moment in this new choreo you created for the boys, so you had to get it right.

Minutes passed, bowls emptied themselves, and you still hadn’t eaten anything.

“Y/N, stop it now. Too much is like not enough!” advised Joon with his father-like tone. His concern and the smell of the delicious food almost made you stop, but you took a deep breath to focus and went back to dancing without a word.

“Tae has gotten to the bowl of samgyeopsal!” tried J-Hope to make you rush in to get your hands on your favorite dish.

“Mmmmmm, SO GOOD!” added the boy while making huge slurping sounds, though you weren’t sure if those disgusted you more than they made you envy him.

They sat still, waiting to see if you would stop your tireless rehearsing, but you were so intent on doing it perfectly that it felt like they didn’t even exist.

“They really won’t come to eat.” pouted Jimin while he looked at Namjoon with the saddest puppy eyes.

“Makes me think of someone,” mumbled Yoongi, not without earning an annoyed sigh from the talented dancer.

“Alright, Jungkook, I think we need to take drastic measures.” sighed Joonie, already wincing at the idea of your reaction.

The youngest boy simply nodded, finished his bite, and headed out of the little room without saying a word. The other boys stared at the door, waiting for what was coming. It started with the music stopping abruptly, then you whining, “Oh please, one last time! I was starting to get it. AH JUNGKOOK LET ME DOWN! JEON JEONGGUK!” Some laughed, but they all winced when you started screaming like a lunatic. Jungkook entered the room with you thrown over his shoulder, screaming and whacking his back. He dropped you on a chair and went to his plate with the most unbothered expression. You opened your mouth to start whining again, but Jimin and Tae were faster and stopped you by dropping a steaming portion on your plate.

“Eat. You don’t want to overwork yourself, don’t you?” encouraged Jimin with a caring look. You reluctantly looked at the bowl he nudged in front of you.

“And if you faint, you will forget all the progress you have made, and you will be back to step one,” mocked Yoongi with his nose still in his plate. You rolled your eyes at his remark but still felt a pang of stress from the thought.

“Funny, but seriously," You started getting up. "One more time, and I’ll-”

You were cut short by a pretty mad Jungkook as he reached for your wrist across the table.

“If you get up one more time before you’ve eaten all of this goddamn plate. I will tie you down to this chair and feed you each bite until you’re done, and I won’t be gentle this time.”

He uttered his threat in a growl, and just at the thought you gave up, suddenly plopping down on your chair. Once he felt your body relaxing he let go of your hand, still looking at you, then at the bowl until you ate four big spoonfuls of the dish. Only then did he focus again on his own, going back to being the cute little bunny he was. All the other members stared silently at you guys, too shocked to say a word. Until they exploded in laughter, you and Jungkook quickly joining in. The bantering followed right after, the atmosphere finally lightening up.

“Don’t be upset Y/N. We just want you to be okay and healthy, but don’t worry we'll help you with the choreo,” assured Jimin as he stood up, finished with his plate, and encouraged you to follow through.

“Thank you, but… I still have some food left, and I don’t want Jungkook to put his threat into execution.”

They all laughed at your comment as the brown-eyed boy on the other side of the table shot you a huge bunny-like smile.

#bts x reader #namjoon x reader #yoongi x reader #j hope x reader #jin x reader #jimin x reader #taehying x reader #jungkook x reader #bts #bts imagines #bts fluff #bts comfort #bts fic #bts scenarios #ilya writes

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mr-leach · 7 months

Text

Thinking about how Ulder Ravenguard was so dead set on hating his son for not being a perfect replica of himself that he refused to listen to a single thing he said. He will not even consider listening unless you, a complete fucking stranger, step in to advocate for him, and even then it's an uphill battle. No amount of love or respect Wyll has for his father is enough to grant him any sort of grace; choosing his own path was so much of a slight in Ulder's eyes that Wyll might as well not even be his own son. The only surefire way to get him to understand is to literally break into his mind and show him what happened, and once he finally sees reason what does he do?

He immediately decides on what Wyll should do with his future now that he's back in daddy's good graces. Even sends him to go and finish a quest he himself started to prove his worth. Sure, when Wyll "fails" he acts forgiving, but his attitude is still that Wyll is just a younger version on himself and should act accordingly. Well now that you've earned forgiveness, son, you can get back to business as usual, clearly... regardless of whether that's what Wyll wants for himself or not.

Like. I have a lot of thoughts about this. For one, I have to wonder if Wyll hadn't made a pact with Mizora, or had made a pact with a divine or neutral patron rather than a devil...how long would Wyll and Ulder have actually maintained a good relationship after that night? Like, Wyll has this habit of talking about his childhood and adolescence in that...barely-fond manner. You know, where the person telling stories feels like they're sharing a sweet or funny anecdote, but to everyone else it sounds... miserable. There were parts of his upbringing that he surely enjoyed, but it is deeply overshadowed by a cloud of resentment that Wyll himself barely recognizes. He loves his father, and truly respects and looks up to him, but it's evident from the stories he shares that Ulder treated him more like a student than a son. Wyll was his protege more than his progeny, it sounds like.

And the way it affects how Wyll talks about himself is heartbreaking. He puts himself down all the time, makes self deprecating jokes, or makes unhealthy predictions of what others might think of him. The only time he doesn't...is when he talks about the Blade of Frontiers. He loves the work that he does so much, he is so passionate about being right on the front lines protecting innocents and doing away with evil, and he even takes pride in his decision to make his pact with Mizora because it's that power that he uses to help people. Like gosh, even when fretting over how others might perceive his devilish form, he concludes that, if people see him as a monster, then they'll get to watch a monster fight evil and save people's lives. It sounds cheezy as fuck but oh my god. Like talk about feeling inadequate and unloved but choosing a path for yourself that you can be proud of in spite of all that.

And then, just thinking of that reuniting exchange in and of itself, and just. You can tell just how used to being shot down Wyll is, even though he really, truly wants his father to understand him. And it takes actually forcing Ravengard to witness what happened to make any progress. Many of us wish we could project exactly what we mean or feel or experience directly into the mind of someone we're trying to get through to. And still it's like he can't see past his own selfish perception of Wyll as an extension of himself. Wyll seems satisfied in the moment, but it's apparent that he's still been misunderstood despite being forgiven by his father. It sucks.

#bg3 spoilers #wyll ravengard #bg3 #baldur's gate 3

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wonuwrites · 1 month

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I really love the "We Can't Be Friends" idea! I'm excited for the Maknae version. I will try to think of a good song to suggest since you liked doing that one so much!

For the undecided ot13 you put in the poll, what about if y/n was an actress and met some SVT members at an event and Dino mentioned (pouted) that the older guys were giving him a hard time, so you gave your number to him and said he could decide which members he would share it with, if any, when they were nice enough to him? Or if he wants to keep your number all to himself? I hope this makes sense!

Yay! I look forward to your song suggestion!! I am not quite sure how to do this so I'm going to do it 4 sections from MTL if that makes sense

ღ

First things first, Chan would probably share his number with most of the first two groups but if he had a crush on you, I could see him keeping it to himself so he could try to win you over first. I could see him being 'selfish' in this way.

Chan would give your number bc they are nice to him in general~ Wonwoo, Vernon, Jun

>> WONWOO: Especially Wonwoo, who is basically the biggest fucking Dinonaras. We are delulu if we think we are a bigger Dinonara tbh. He would've been near Chan when he pulled the "my hyungs bully me" card and would scoff because maybe the other eleven but surely not him. Chan would agree and if he noticed his friend was giving you heart eyes, he would totally push his feelings aside and set you and Wonwoo up. >> VERNON: Honestly, they don't have that much beef besides occasional play arguments but Chan really has a soft spot for Hansol. So, after you gave Chan your number, Hansol would just give a "please bro" look which would make the younger one laugh his infamous laugh and airdrop your number. >> JUN: I mean, who doesn't love Jun? Seventeen and Carats all have a soft spot for him and when it comes to giving your number, Chan totally would. Especially if he thought you both would be a good fit for each other.

Chan would give your number bc they'd "fight" him for it LOL Seungcheol, Jihoon, Jeonghan

>> SEUNGCHEOL: Like Wonwoo, Seungcheol would also be near Chan when this happened and honestly his eyes would've been on you all night long. So when you gave your number to the younger member, he would give Chan a "you better share" look with him and Dino would give it to Seungcheol so quick lmao. >> WOOZI: Jihoon wouldn't even know about the exchange between you and Chan until one of the other members had "exposed" it to Jihoon. With Jihoon it could go two ways where he would laugh about it or if he liked you, he would "jokingly" tease about lines which would make Chan fold quicker than anything LMAO >> JEONGHAN: I can see Jeonghan pulling the freaking, "who's baby are you," card on Chan if he even hesitates to give your number to him hahaha. He'd just be like "Lee Chan, I didn't raise you like this. Give it up." I feel like if Chan told him "but I like (Y/N) though," Jeonghan would be 100% supportive and would just ask for your number to help set something up between you two. In the end, Jeonghan would have your number no matter the scenario because he's just that guy ya know?

Chan wouldn't give them your number because he found it funny. Seungkwan, Joshua, Seokmin

>> SEUNGKWAN: Ok, so if Seungkwan didn't ask for your number, Chan might've thought about it but once Seungkwan was like "Soo... (Y/N)'s number... can I have it?" Chan decided to be a brat and would refuse to give the number. He would bring up the gift situation from years ago which would annoy the hell out of Seungkwan LMAO. They would start fighting hahaha. >> JOSHUA: Honestly, Chan would do this just to fuck with Jisoo which would make him just scoff and roll his eyes at the youngers actions. He would remember this though. If he actually didn't give him your number and Chan needed something in the future this man would be SO over dramatic and be like: "remember when I needed (Y/N)'s number but you didn't help your hyung out?" Honestly the only time he would throw the hyung card out hahahaha. >> SEOKMIN: Seokmin would be apart of the initial group when Chan said that he was a bully victim and he honestly laughed at what the younger one said. Chan remembered Seokmin laughing at his rizz attempt and this was his payback. Seokmin would be so pouty about which would make Chan laugh at him which would make him get so annoyed hahaha.

They would just try their hand in getting your number because they knew Chan would be difficult about it lmfaoooo. Mingyu, Minghao, Hoshi

>> MINGYU: Look, I said in this reaction that Mingyu fucks and is pretty confident when it comes to dating. When he heard that Chan was in charge of giving your number away he would just plan on getting it himself. If it wasn't this event, there would be another event. Since Chan's "bully victim" plan would he was sure the same speech would also work for him. If not then his face sure would not to sound too cocky or anything like that lmao >> MINGHAO: Even though Minghao was nothing but nice to Chan, he would want to get your number more organically. He thought it was hilarious. However, if he liked you, which he did, he would want to go up to you and introduce himself and try to win you over that way. He didn't want Lee Chan to feel "pressured" or anything like that. >> HOSHI: If Soonyoung wasn't just horanghe-ing in a corner, he would be similar to Minghao and doing his best to win you over organically. He found the whole situation silly over all though.

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inmyheaddd · 2 months

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Hi love, could i request maybe a Jameson version of your childhood friends to lovers with Grayson. Maybe in Jamie’s version reader is like the daughter of Tobias’ tailor or something like that.

jameson hawthorne childhood friends to lovers head cannons

thankyou so much for the reqq, this is a long one but def one of my favs i’ve written so far!! wc: 4.9k

being the daughter of one of tobias’ close friends, who was also his tailor, meant you were often at the hawthorne house.

when your dad needed someone to watch you when your parents would go out, tobias would always offer for you to come over to the House and play with his grandsons.

at 7, you didn’t have much in common with any of them, but talking to them was still the best part of your day.

one of them in particular made your day better, jameson.

the first time you met him, you were 7 and he was 8. you and your dad were standing outside the front door. a maid opened it, and jameson being the curious child he was, was standing not far behind.

“who are you?” he asks whilst holding a pen, an apple, and a usb stick in his hands. you later learned jameson holding random miscellaneous items was a common occurrence; he practically lived for games.

“i’m y/n”

“hey buddy,” your dad jumps in, crouching to meet jamesons height. jameson already knew your dad and thought of him as a funny uncle he never had. “this is my daughter, i’m gonna be dropping her off with you lot while i’m out running errands, that okay with you?”

“does she like playing games?” he asks

“she loves playing games, right honey?”

“yeah…” you say, looking at your feet. jameson sees that and smiles to himself.

“good,” he says with a wide grin on his face “i love games,” he continues.

“great, you two will have so much fun.” your dad says as he pats his shoulder, “have fun, alright sweetie?”

you and your dad say goodbye, and you’re now standing in the foyer with 8 year old jameson. “hi. what’s your name?” you ask, realizing he hasn’t told you his name yet.

“jameson. do you wanna see my favorite secret passage?”

“you have secret passages?!” you ask, dumbfounded because you thought that stuff only existed in movies.

“so many of them,” he says dragging the “so”. jameson had a slight lisp because he lost one of his top two teeth, and it made you laugh slightly whenever he spoke.

jameson sensed your nervousness at the start and was by your side all day, doing all the talking and getting the awkwardness out of the way.

you swore he was like your white knight in that moment.

in 10 minutes, you were best friends—well, as close as you could get to a random boy you just met. but as kids, all you need is one thing in common in order to be besties for life.

he then introduced you to his brothers.

grayson was standoffish with you at first, but soon enough, he warmed up.

nash was 5 years older than you, so he didn’t really see a reason why he would need to be friends with a 7-year-old, but he was still always polite and never failed to make you laugh.

you and xander got along great; he was like another younger sibling to you.

jameson was just something else. even at 8 years old, he still managed to make little you blush. maybe it was because he was the first one you met; who knows? all you knew was that you absolutely loved talking to him, and you were devastated when your dad came and it was time for you to leave.

“if you want, i can carry your toys outside." he said to you, when you were struggling to pick up all your things and your newfound treasures you and jameson had found in the backyard.(random rocks and stones)

“no it’s okay. i’m a dependent woman,” you say, sticking your chin up high.

jameson grins at you. “isn’t it independent woman?”

“i don’t know... i just heard it on tv” you say with an honest shrug as you both laugh.

ever since that day, you were always over at each other's houses.

jameson brought you so much out of your comfort zone

one day you were talking about how you wanted to have a tea party, but you didn’t want jameson to think it was silly.

“what would you think of a tea party? hypo-hyporectically” you ask, unsure of how to say the word you heard some adults say.

“i don’t really think of tea parties,” he replies, as he’s taking apart a pen, seemingly looking for something.

“but what if you did? like, if someone asked you to one?” you ask again, your voice pitching higher at the end of the question.

“do you want to have a tea party?” he chuckles while raising his eyebrows, looking away from the pen and up at you.

“yeah..? it’s okay if you don’t want to.”

“who said i didn’t want to? i’d love to.”

“oh” you say, and a small smile starts to creep up on your face. “that’s good. we should have one”

“you’re right, let me go call my brothers!" he says halfway through running towards one of the many secret passages.

“wait, no!” you exclaim, and you start to chase after him. “they’re going to think it’s stupid!”

he shouts as he continues to run . “no they won’t, they’ll love it.”

“please please please please don’t ask them, jameson.” you’re practically begging him not to ask them. you were extremely comfortable around jameson, but for some reason, the idea of asking the others to join made you feel silly.

he finally stood and turns around, and he’s extremely out of breath. “fine, only if you beat me in a race.”

“what?! no way!”

“i’ll give you a head start,” he says in a singsong voice.

he stays true to his word and gives you a head start; but he still wins.

looking back, you’re so glad he asked them because they all ended up agreeing, and the whole night was filled with laughter and fun.

it was definitely one of your core memories. grayson was crowned the moodiest tea party princess - there’s a legit certificate of it somewhere in the house signed by all 5 of you.

soon enough, you started to participate in the saturday game mornings, and there was always a friendly fire between you and jameson.

you’d agree to work together, knowing fully well that you’d both end up double-crossing each other at the end.

jameson made a few nicknames for you: the most used one was sewing machine, but it later shortened to “machine”; he said it also worked because ‘your brain worked as fast as a machine’. jameson and his reasoning...

as tweens, you and jameson were a nightmare to adults.

you would always make up the craziest random competitions on the spot:

“who can skip backwards whilst also saying the alphabet backwards without messing up”

“who can close their eyes and win tic-tac-toe 3 times in a row first.” spoiler alert: none of you won that one.

“who can annoy grayson the most today” usually, jameson would win that one.

as you grew older, your dad would ask you to drop off some of tobias’ suits at the house and then come back home.

yes, you would drop off the suits, but you’d spend another 5+ hours there hanging out with jameson.

your dad obviously knew this, but he was fine with it. he knew jameson was a good person, and he had a hunch that you felt something for him.

you and jameson went through all the phases together.

he will never admit it, but he did have a pop music phase for a while with you...

tell anyone, and he’ll deny it like his life depended on it (katy perry, lana, and taylor swift carried him through 2014).

you also had a very short-lived grunge phase. he still has his ears pierced from when you pierced them at home for him.

you both only wore black for a week, but ultimately decided it wasn’t for you.

you also went through a gaming phase. jameson had a whole room built purely for games, which you barely used after that short lived era. it didn’t go to waste though; xander transformed it into his designated robot room.

you guys didn’t go to the same school at this time, so practically every day after school you’d meet up somewhere and talk, or one of you would go to the other's house and hang out there.

you’d usually go to the hawthorne house to talk about your day with jameson, while discovering new secret passages and puzzles in the house.

the thing is, you weren’t like this with anyone else. but when you were with jameson, you never had to pretend or try, being yourself with him was as easy as breathing. you never had to worry about being judged. you always thought this was just because you knew him for so long.

at 14, you had your first real crush (or so you thought).

the guy sat next to you in english, and every time you would need ‘to discuss your answers with the person next to you’ you’d talk to him, and you guys would always go off topic.

talking to him sort of felt like talking to jameson.

whenever you mentioned him to jameson, he would suddenly seem uninterested. you figured it was because the topic of crushes was more girl talk. you soon stopped talking about him.

you two ended up getting into a relationship with him at 15; it was 2 weeks (2 weeks too long) and extremely boring.

he clearly felt the same way, because he’d always be late to your hangouts or have some dummy excuse. one time he blew you off for the mall when you were already there.

you decided to roam around anyway and do some shopping, and there he was, walking hand in hand with some other girl in your school. then he leaned in and kissed her.

you didn’t even know what to do. you froze. it's like your brain was on autopilot, and the only thing it knew how to do was call jameson.

“hey machine, what’s up?”

“hey, um, are you free right now?” you ask, biting your bottom lip and hoping for a good response.

“i’m always free for you. is something wrong?”

“no, nothing's wrong!” your voice begins to waver, and you pray he doesn't notice.

“i know you well enough to not believe that lie. where are you?”

“it doesn’t matter, can i come over? i’m fine, just…” you pause, looking for the right excuse, but you come with nothing.

“just what, y/n?” he says softly.

“i can come over right?” you avoid his question by asking one of your own.

“of course you can,” he says, with a hint of confusion in his voice.

“okay, bye”

“wait wh-“

you shut your phone off and take a deep breath, closing your eyes and pinching your nose bridge. “what am i even doing?” you think to yourself

as you arrive to his house, you notice that some of his friends are just leaving. you start to feel guilty on top of what you’re already feeling as you realize he must’ve gotten them to leave for you to come. it’s like, at any second, you’re going to break and pour out all your emotions.

when he opens the door for you, he immediately does a once-over on your outfit and realizes you were meant to meet up with that guy from your english class. he knows this because whenever you hang out with him, you dress like the type of people he likes. not what you like.

“you wanna tell me what’s going on?” he asks, looking down at you with soft eyes.

you shake your head, looking at your feet, and when you make eye contact with him, the strong facade you put on in front of everyone else cracks, and your eyes start to water.

he pulls you in for a hug and you try your hardest not to cry.

”you don’t have to be strong around me.” the second he said those words it’s like a dam broke out in your eyes.

a few minutes later, no one could even try to stop your ranting. “he’s always- he’s always blowing me off, and whenever he does show up- he’s always so, so, so late” you say in between hiccups and sniffles. you knew future-you would be mortified from the ugly crying on his shoulder, but in the moment, you just needed to be with jameson.

you continue to express your feelings, and when you mention the fact that he was hanging out with another girl today, and kissed her, he pulls back from the hug and places his hands on your shoulders.

“i’m sorry, what?” he says with his eyes narrowed.

“he had you, and he was with someone else? you have to be joking.”

when you don’t respond, he turns his head away from you and mutters under his breath, “im gonna kill this guy”

he turns to face you again.

“what’s his name again? full name”

“jameson.” you warn seriously as you tilt your head.

“his name is jameson too? what a coincidence! we can have a lovely chat about what it’s like to be called jameson.” he remarks sarcastically, with a tight-lipped smile on his face.

you half-roll your eyes and say, "his name isn’t jameson. ive told you his name before”

“i don’t store unnecessary, wasteful information in my brain. it messes with my aura,” he jokes to make you feel better as he moves his hand and gestures around his face, then places it back on his shoulder. “now though, his name is very useful to me. his name?”

you tell him his name, and you can practically see jameson store it away in his brain.

"let's get you inside, yeah?"

the rest of the night, jameson was being extra unpredictable and funny to make you forget about recent events, and he was literally doing anything you asked.

he always complains and groans when you want to watch old timey movies, but that day he had no problem with watching little women & pride and prejudice.

he was still himself though.

“i don’t understand how you like this movie; it’s so... boring.”

“this movie would be so much better with action cars and sound effects.” that one earned a half-chuckle out of you.

“it’s like you don’t even have to guess or predict anything; it just happens?”

midway through his complaining, he looks over at you and sees you're fighting to stay awake.

“oh, that’s why you weren't responding” he murmurs

he told himself off in his brain to stop talking so you could sleep, and at the end of the movie he carried you to one of the many guest rooms and put you in bed.

in the middle of the night you woke up, in an unfamiliar room. you remembered that you were last watching a movie with jameson, ‘did he bring me here?‘ you thought as you got up out of bed and stretched.

jameson heard a knock on his bedroom door and opened it, he was shocked to see you awake.

“what are you doing here?” he says, his voice low like he hasn’t used it in a while.

“um, i woke up, and i couldn’t go back to sleep,” you say as you scratch the back of your neck

“you wanna sleep here?” he asks with his classic jameson smile, even when he’s half asleep.

“if it’s alright with you” you say, starting to smile back at him.

“all yours,” he says as he opens the door fully to let you in first, then closes the door behind you and follows you.

you asked him what time it was, and he answered. but his mind wasn’t focused on the time. it was like every single moment you two had spent together was crashing out of his mind, and all he could think of was you. he laid on his back, staring up at the wall with you next to him, laying on your side, already sleeping.

he knew he loved you. he had known that for a while. he knew you weren’t only a childhood friend, you weren’t only some girl whose dad was friends with his grandfather, you weren’t just a girl who he’d laugh with sometimes. you were it. you were everything to him. you’d seen him through everything he’s been through, and you still always stayed. you were kind and forgiving in times when no one, not even him, deserved it. you were everything and more.

but in his mind, he wasn’t.

“compared to your brothers, your mind is ordinary." the old man’s voice rang through his head.

he looked over at you and realized that he didn’t deserve you. not one bit. he couldn’t bear to see you hurt again, and it would tear him apart if he was the reason for it - because he wasnt good enough. being just friends with you was safer, but it was also tearing him apart every passing day.

he needed to be better, for you.

over the next few weeks, jameson started to distance himself.

you were so confused. “did i do something?” “was the crying too much?” “i messed everything up” were thoughts that clouded your brain for months.

jameson on the other hand, was thinking this was all for the better.

“i’ll get better at this, i'll be perfect for her, and then ill come back”

he just kept striving to do one more thing, but it was never enough for him. he felt like he’d always be one step away from perfect.

but he had to be perfect, so he kept trying.

you and jameson turned into strangers who happened to know everything about each other. you’d still text each other sometimes, pretending like nothing happened and wishing the other a happy birthday.

your birthdays didn’t feel the same without him.

your favorite birthday was when he gifted you a riddle box you had to solve when you were 14. once you solved it, there was a letter inside titled “to my best friend." some spelling mistakes here and there, but you still treasured it like it was worth all the money in the world.

it was the summer before you started 11th grade, and you were going to be attending heights country day that year.

you went downstairs to get a cup of water, and as you were standing looking at the fridge, you noticed an old drawing you made at eight of you and your family hung up on the fridge. on it, there was little jameson next to you and labeled it “my best friend”.

your mood was instantly dampened, and you started reminiscing about times long gone.

you went to reread the letter in the riddle box that he once gave you. you knew that moving schools would mean you’d have to face jameson much more frequently.

you wanted to remember what you once had. “maybe if i don’t mess up this time, i could have that again.” it was putting salt on an open wound.

you sat down on your desk, placed your water next to you, and opened that riddle box once again. the familiarity of the whole process from how many times you’ve opened it made it no longer a riddle. it was practically muscle memory now. you took out the letter, and reached to turn on your lamp, accidentally knocking the cup of water in the process.

you immediately got up from your chair as the water spilled all over your desk and picked up the letter.

“shit shit shit shit,” you repeated as you tried to salvage it.

“no no no, this can’t be happening,” you murmured as your voice started to shake.

you brang it up in front of your face and noticed the back, and you started to see writing appear that you'd never seen before.

“am i tripping?” you questioned, and turned it around back and forth, then you started to chuckle. “there’s no way.”

you then realized he used one of many hawthorne classics - invisible ink.

you sat down back at your desk and took a picture of the letter, just in case it disintegrated later on.

you started to read through the new writing that you had just discovered.

“hey machine, i know you’ll never read this, but i’m writing it anyway. that’s something i do a lot—things that are useless just for that rush of excitement, for that risk. mother says im “hungry”. im starting to think she’s right.

in all seriousness though, i'm actually not hungry. i just did a scone eating competition with xander. not our brightest idea. i think i wont have to eat for the next 10 years of my life.

okay, in actual all seriousness, i love you. i should’ve probably done some big lead up to that, but honestly, thats all i know. all i know is that i love you. you make me feel a feeling that’s unexc unexpli unexplainable—that’s love, isn’t it? whenever i’m with you, i never feel like i need more, like im "hungry." you’re it for me. you’re everything and more. the old man once said to me, “there’s men like us only love once, fully, wholeheartedly. it’s all consuming and eternal." i think he knows—hell, he probably knew before i did—that i love you. how could i not? everything about you is so perfect. i knew you were going to be someone important in my life since the second i laid eyes on you. i just never knew how much.” your hand covered your mouth as you continued to read, as you got to the end, you swear your heart broke in two. “…what i'm trying to say is, i would carry your toys for you any day if it means i get to see you smile - if it means you’re happy. i would go through any phase in the world, as long as it's with you. i would discover every secret passage if it meant discovering it with you. i'd climb every mountain, i'd watch every rom-com, i'd read every book, i'd do anything, if it was you asking.

i love you, machine.

endlessly and eternally yours,

jameson”

by the end of the letter, you were in shambles.

he loved you? for all this time? and you never even knew? if he loved you, why’d he leave?

you knew the letter was old, and it was written before you two drifted apart, but something inside of you was itching to call him and tell him what you found—what you know now.

you called him, waited, and waited. you were just about to hang up and forget all about it when he picked up on the 5th ring.

“jameson, hi”

“machine?” he sounded almost in shock. he cleared his throat and spoke again.

“y/n, hi. to what do i owe the pleasure of this call?” he seems to have regained his composure quickly.

a smile found your face. he still talks the same.

however, it quickly fades when you remember the premise of which you’re calling.

“i know this is extremely random, but um. i was rereading a letter you once gave me, the one from that riddle box.” you pause and wait for his response.

“yes?”

''and water spilled on it." you continue

“oh.” you hear him shuffle for a second, and he continues, “i’m sure you enjoyed 15-year-old me’s spelling mistakes."

“there weren’t that many, actually,” you say with a small chuckle.

jameson hated talking to you like this, like you weren’t practically the same person split into two. but he knew it was his fault.

“yeah, i'm pretty sure i used a grammar checker. or i asked grayson. same thing”

you laugh. and your laugh has him regretting every single decision he made that didn’t involve you. he was such an idiot for leaving in the first place. he needed to make things right.

“that’s grayson for you,” you reply, and he’s brought back to reality.

he lets out laugh, and then says, “you know, i heard from a little birdie that you’re moving to heights country day this year.”

“yeah, i am actually,” you reply with a small smile.

jameson hears your smile in your voice. the things he would do to be able to see that smile.

the rest of the conversation goes smoothly, and it ends with jameson asking you to come over for a rundown of what to do in school. what he was really asking, was for you to come over so you could talk about the letter.

you arrived at the hawthorne house exactly on time.

jameson opened the door and smiled at you. in that moment, you swear you actually felt your heart skip a beat.

a few hours later, when you’ve gotten back into the rhythm of talking with jameson and laughing with him, he actually started to help you with school. he gave you some of his books from last year for you to catch up on.

he was on a ladder, reaching for one of the books in one of many libraries, and you were behind him basically ogling at his arm and back muscles that were peeking through his white shirt. he really had grown.

he suddenly says “my feelings didn’t change, you know.”

“what?”

“the letter.” he says when he turns around with the book in his hand. he pauses for a second, searches your face, and continues.

“i feel every single thing for you now than i did then, probably even more if it’s even possible. i could never forget about you. every corner of this house has memories of me and you. so does every corner of my mind. i love you.”

he puts the book down, takes a step forward, and you look up at him.

“jameson i..” you trail off, trying to find the right words. i’ve loved you since i could remember. every good memory i have has you right next to it. since the second i went through that first passage with you, i had a feeling that i never felt before, and it kept growing with every step i took. every step we took, together. i love you." and after a second, you continue. "but why’d you leave?” you say that with your eyebrows slightly furrowed and a light shake of your head.

when you say those last words, a flash of hurt passes through his eyes.

“i’m sorry. i wish i could give you some great reason why i did, but i cant." he takes a deep breath in "i wanted to be better for you. i didn’t want to be ordinary with you.” that was the first time he ever confided in someone about that feeling. ordinary.

“jameson. you’re everything to me.”

“i wasn’t enough.”

“you’re more than enough” you tell him truthfully, and you reach your hand up to his face.

he does the same, and somehow he steps forward to be even closer to you than he already is.

"i love you, jameson, more than anything in this world. i'll spend every day of my life proving it to you if that's what it takes for you to see that you're not ordinary, you could never be. you're everything."

he looks down at you for a few seconds, and his eyes flicker from your lips to your eyes.

he murmurs in a low voice, “if i kiss you, i don’t think ill ever be able to stop.”

“who says i want you to stop?” your voice comes out barely audible.

and with that, he kisses you.

it was a slow, passionate kiss. one that said all the words you two weren’t able to. it wasn’t rushed; it was love.

your arms moved to wrap around the back of his neck, and his moved to your waist, drawing you in somehow closer than you already were.

for the rest of the night everything was normal between you two, like no time had passed at all. except you were extremely giddy, and jameson had his flirt on 100x more.

later on, you two are lying on the couch with your head on his chest. he was playing with your hair when he broke the comfortable silence.

“you know that one guy, from your english class?”

“ugh, don't remind me of him,” you groan.

jameson chuckles, and you feel the vibrations coming from his chest.

“i’m sorry, i’m going to have to,” he says through a smile as he pats your arm, and he resumes.

"whatever," you grumble through a small smile. "continue?" you add on.

“after you left that day, i told grayson what happened—not everything, but enough. he was the only person at the time who knew i liked you. back to the point, we went to the mall, and lucky for us, that guy was still there. his little lady friend seemed to be somewhere else. but there he was.”

“oh my god,” you mumble as you turn your head to face him, “what did you do?”

a smirk starts to appear on his face as he looks down at you. “what makes you think i did anything?”

“well for one, that smirk on your face,” you say with a laugh, “and secondly, well, i know you.”

he looks up at the ceiling and smiles.

“me and grayson had bruised knuckles for a week or two, but it was worth it.” he chuckles as looks down at you.

“oh my god,” you mutter for the second time that day as you turn your head to the side and look away from him. you look back at him with raised eyebrows and a finger pointed at his face, “you’re insane.”

“you love it.”

after a beat of silence you respond, looking into his eyes with your voice barely audible.

“yeah, i guess i do.”

this was so longg, honestly idek if these even classify as head cannons anymore. atp they’re whole stories. sometimes writing for jameson is hard for me because i have no idea how to think like him, so i apologize if this is out of character 😭

anywayy i hope you enjoyed, lmk if you did! 🤍

#jameson hawthorne #jameson hawthorne x reader #grayson hawthorne #xander hawthorne #nash hawthorne #the brothers hawthorne #the final gambit #the grandest game #the hawthorne legacy #the inheritance games #tig

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