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palbabor-writes · 3 years

Text

Impetuous

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Adult language, SMUT/18+only, cunnilingus, switching, bratting, face-riding, Satoru being Satoru, so he’s chatty & in general the worst

Words: 12,815

“Knock it off,” you huff, doing your best to ignore how your breasts press against the flat planes of his chest. Then his fingers are under your chin, gently tipping your head up and leaning so close that his lips are inches from your own.

“But what if I don’t want to?” he teases, his voice falling into a lower, hushed pitch before he relaxes his hold, letting you slip from his hands.

Notes: this thing has been languishing in my drafts since like, January. because it was my first step away from BNHA i’ve sorta over analyzed it & edited it, likely to death. but anyway, without further ado, here is my first venture into the JJK fandom! thank you for edits & suggestions: @albinoburrito, @kugutsuu, @kogo & everyone else that i’ve forced to look at this thing. love you all sm & ty for putting up with me!

& it’s gojo because of course it fucking is.

Impetuous im·pet·u·ous /imˈpeCH(o͞o)əs/ adjective done quickly

“I hate to be a harbinger of bad news, and I can understand your frustration, but that’s what they asked me to do. Doesn’t matter what continent we’re on, elders are elders. Honestly, I’m a little shocked that this teaching pathway is even an option for him.” Although you speak softly, your voice seems to carry more in these close meeting rooms, clattering off the tatami mats and gleaming leather couches.

Yaga massages the bridge of his nose and adjusts his dark sunglasses before lifting his eyes to yours. “I understand, but I still feel that he would be an asset to our school. As long as his motivations remain pure, that’s all I can ask for, at present.”

“Pure or not,” you continue, lacing your fingers as you cross one leg over the other. “It’s vital to see how he handles himself on these missions. What if he has a student with him? I’ve never seen his fighting style, but I’ve heard he can be reckless. How can he foster confidence and proper growth if he’s not measured on the basics? There’s the additional worry of taking him off of the higher ranked missions. Or, if you elect to keep sending him on them, can he handle both? Can he teach and still be a successful sorcerer and asset?”

“He’ll be expected to do both. He knows this,” Yaga sighs, reaching for his lukewarm cup of tea. “While he’s not known for his conventionality, I don’t think that will interfere with his teaching. As I said, some recent events at the school have helped to illuminate the importance of managing the coming generation. Satoru is confident, and I believe that will translate well to any future students. He’s already taken on some responsibility with young Fushiguro and the boy is doing well under his instruction.”

“Fushiguro?” you ponder. Your school administration and the head elders had given you a list of names, people who represented the top families among Japan’s sorcerers, but you don’t remember seeing a name like Fushiguro among the others.

“He’s related to the Zen’in family,” Yaga explains, spreading his vast hands open as he replaces his tea cup against the low table that rests between the two of you. “So, if I’m understanding correctly, your superiors in America have sent you to Japan to collect a series of reports. One is on the influence of curses and how our alumni comport themselves in the field. The other is the analysis of our teaching styles and to, how did you put it, ‘further diversify your own teaching abilities as a jujutsu educator.’ And, as if that wasn’t possibly enough, to observe our newest teaching candidate, Satoru Gojo.”

“In a nutshell,” you confirm, a smile quirking the edge of your lips. “We’ve got some missions lined up, right?”

“Yes. You will enter the field with Satoru and one other returning alumna, Shoko Ieiri. She’s finished her medical degree and will join our research facilities in the coming weeks.”

“Oh! She’s the one who can use the reverse healing technique! I’ve heard of her.”

“Yes. She was in Satoru’s class. I realize your report is the main aim that you have here, but I would ask that you keep an open mind. While your report is of value to our school, it will not affect my decision on the matter.”

You lean against the stiff cushions of the couch and cock your head at Yaga’s impassive expression. “Of course,” you assure him, noting that nothing in his outward appearance shifts as you give him the response he was waiting for. “Should be an interesting week, at the very least.”

“Oh,” Yaga replies, finally cracking a less than reassuring grin. “Satoru will make sure of that.”

“Hey! (L/N)-san! The next report is up and they’re sending a manager for us, hurry up! Stop scribbling things in that little notebook. What are you writing anyway? Is it some kinda biography? Oooh! Is it on me? Is that why you keep looking at me? It is, isn’t it? Ahh, now I’m gonna feel self-conscious.”

You snap your notepad closed and slip it into your hip pouch, stepping toward the two fellow members of your team. “It’s just routine notes and you don’t need to call me (L/N)-san. I realize it’s likely force of habit, but please, just call me (Y/N).”

“Ahhh! We’re already on a first name basis! I’m blushing. I’ve never had a girl be this forward with me!” Satoru sighs, clapping his hands against his cheeks and leaning over you. “You’re so bold!”

“Ugh,” you scoff, rolling your eyes at him. “Liar, and stop that. I’m still the senior sorcerer in this party. I–”

“But you’re just a grade 1,” he interrupts, bracing his hands on his hips and exaggerating his stance, moving his face close to yours. As he looms ever nearer, you raise your chin and hold your ground. This invasion of personal space is a tactic he loves to use.

At first, you’d figured he was just another one of those guys who weren’t aware how intimidating their sheer height and presence came off to others. However, as the days wore on, you noticed his intentional maneuvering. He would press at Shoko too, but she was better at ignoring him, so he soon turned his full attention to you.

“Yeah, I might only be a grade 1, but they have given me the command on all of our missions. It’s my job to file the reports, a task that you, as the technical ‘junior party’, aren’t trusted to do.”

“You’re so right! That’s a tremendous responsibility. How do you stand under all that pressure (Y/N)! The role of the pencil pusher is such a big job. I should act right! Or I’ll never be a real jujutsu sorcerer! God, look at this Shoko, we need to get our shit together! At this rate, we’ll never be able to file our own reports!”

“Now, now,” you tut, raising a finger in front of your face, forcing him to take a subconscious step backwards. “Watch what you say, after all, you’re wanting to become a teacher. So some part of the masochism of endless paperwork must appeal to you.”

Satoru’s smooth lips raise into a broad smirk and pulls away, arching his arms behind his pale head. “Hmm, I’ll give you that one (Y/N). Mainly because of your choice of wording. Masochism. What a word for it. And why’d you have to say it so straight faced? Oh, that reminds me, what time is our next mission at?”

“Uh, why did masochism remind you of that?” you pause, lifting your wrist so you can check the time on your watch. “I think it’s in two hours, give or take traffic.”

“Hmm, and it’s in the Chiba district?”

“Yeah, that’s in Tokyo, right?”

“It is,” Shoko chimes in, twirling a lock of her long brown hair between two of her fingers. Her low voice reminds you, and you turn to face her. “Speaking of names, I never asked, would you prefer Shoko or Ieiri?”

“Doesn’t matter,” she replies, lifting her tawny eyes to yours, catching some of the bright sunlight as it fades into the deep circles under her eyelids. The contrast makes her skin look even more pallid. “First name, last name, whatever is easier.”

“Shoko okay with you then?”

“Sure,” she nods, the ghost of a smile lifting her lips.

“Oi!” Satoru interrupts, slinging an arm over Shoko’s shoulder and fixing you with a pointed look. Or you assume he is, it’s hard to tell where he’s looking because of those white strips of cloth that obscure his eyes. “You know what’s in Chiba, don’t you?”

You blink at him, unsure if this is another one of his aimless questions or something genuine. “No. Should I?”

“You’re a tourist and you really don’t know what’s in–”

“We’ve already been over this Satoru; I am not a tourist,” you protest. “I’m here on official business from my administration to–”

“Yeah, yeah. Look, special, ‘top secret’ assignment or not, you’re still basically a tourist because it’s your first time to Japan. You’re honestly telling me you didn’t look up anything before you arrived?”

“Um,” you waver, eyes narrowing at the cheerful leer that’s drifting over Satoru’s angular features. “I looked up some basic things. I know about the Shinjuku and Roppongi districts. Oh, and Harajuku, that’s a big one too.”

“Mmhm, very good, my little tourist, but do you know what’s in the Chiba district?”

“Don’t call me that and stop screwing around Satoru. If this has nothing to do with the mission, then I’m not interested. I could care less what’s in the district–”

“Might just be rumors, but I’ve been hearing about an increase in cursed activity. Especially around that theme park. I’m sure you’ve heard of it,” he looks upward, pearlescent hair tumbling behind his wrappings. “I guess it’s not surprising that it’s a hot spot, what with all the people who are always checking it out. It’s pretty famous.”

Tch. He’s not gonna tell you.

You suck your teeth and twist your hand back to your hip pouch, digging for your phone. As you peer over the search results you can hear him rambling on about the notoriety of the unnamed place but as soon as you hit the second result, your head whips back up.

There’s no way.

Of course you’d heard of it, you’d even thought about it when the higher ups asked you to take on the assignment to Japan, but never, not in a million years, would you have figured that you’d have a chance to go. Not on this trip.

“Are you serious?” you breathe, blinking up at his smug face. Satoru doesn’t answer, just pops one hand under his chin and gives you a shit-eating grin. You look back at your phone and bite your lip, doing your best to contain your budding excitement, double checking the map for the district.

If he’s not pulling some kind of elaborate joke, it looks like Tokyo Disneyland is the location of your next mission.

“What… what the fuck is this, some kinda elaborate joke??”

The gates to the amusement park are warped, and the paint is peeling; one side looks like it’s about to melt off of the frame, all twisted metal and faded rust. Just past the gates you can see what looks like an old merry-go-round, complete with lions, tigers, bears and several sets of horses. At the tip-top of the ride rest a star, and atop that star is a wraith like curse. It spindles around the flecks of gold and cool bronze, baring its teeth at the three of you and sputtering a long line of broken speech as it twists and turns.

“Huh, still looks about the same. This place was enormous when I was a kid. Now it’s a trendy spot for ghost hunters and thrill seekers! I think five or six people died here last year.” Satoru grins, tucking his hands into his pockets as he strides forward. In seconds, he’s beside the curse on the merry-go-round, silencing chittering of its inane dialogue, letting an eerie quiet seep over the rest of the abandoned grounds.

“So stupid. I cannot believe I let him make me think we were going to Disneyland. You know what he’s like, Shoko! Why didn’t you tell me? He–”

“I honestly don’t listen to him. No idea he was making you think this was Tokyo Disney,” Shoko interrupts, already following the path Satoru took, tucking her brown hair behind her neck with a loose hair tie. “But since we’re here, could you lower the curtain and take care of those level 2 curses on the ticket booth?”

You let out a long sigh and toss her a quick affirmative, reciting the familiar incantation, watching as the darkening shield slopes its way down from the skies, sheltering the three of you within its haze.

The first set of curses are easy enough and you swiftly take care of them, unleashing your cursed technique and splicing them into faded dust. How ridiculous, you think, opening the door to the booth and dodging an ill timed lunge from a sneakier curse who was hiding inside. Satoru honestly had you thinking that you’d be going to the Disneyland theme park. On the way over, he’d even told you about the layout of the park and what potential curses might be lurking about.

What a jerk.

Still, you muse, turning toward another shrieking hulk of a curse that’s lumbering toward you, it’s impressive he’d led you on so easily. You make a mental note to get back at him later, for now you need to clear this area and focus on the task at hand.

“I cannot believe that you led me on like that!” you pout, knocking back a small swig of beer.

“Pfft,” Satoru chuckles, wagging one long finger at you. “Didn’t ever say it was gonna be Disneyland, did I? You came to that conclusion all on your own.”

“Oh please! Making me look up what ‘famous tourist spots are in Chiba’ and then nodding each time I said I was excited to see some of the rides on the way over.”

“You could have really been into haunted carnivals. How was I supposed to know?”

“Ass,” you snap playfully, sticking your tongue out at his pleased smile.

After the mission and spotting your peeved expression, Satoru had insisted that you let him take the two of you out for a drink. According to Shoko, the bar in this neighborhood was highly rated and had some of the best specials in the entire district.

The place was packed; but somehow Shoko had secured three seats up at the bar top, ushering you to sit between her and Satoru, informing you there must always be a three foot buffer between her and ‘that loser’. The bartender seemed to know her and, before you could pull yourself into the worn leather seat, three foaming lagers were passed across the rough surface of the bar top, one for each of you.

“Thanks,” you’d murmured, cupping your hands around the glass. On your right, Satoru pushed his lager toward you, raising two fingers at the distracted barkeep as he chatted with Shoko. “What’s wrong? Don’t like beer?” you’d asked, bemused by his disgruntled expression.

“Nah,” he’d confirmed, wagging his digits a little faster, chin lifting as he let out a huffed exhale. “Messes with my eyes. I want something to eat, though. Hey! Shoko! Stop flirting with him and ask if they have anything sweet! Shokooo! Don’t ignore me!”

Shoko made a show of rolling her eyes but, a few minutes later, a plate of piping hot fried sweet buns appeared and he’d swiftly grabbed up one, popping it in his mouth and smacking it hungrily. You’d turned to ask Shoko what they were, but by the time you’d twisted back to Satoru over half of the cakes were gone.

“Damn, you inhaled them,” you’d exhaled, a little shocked he could scarf them down that quickly.

“Well, they’re not bad and hit the spot, for now,” he’d grinned. “Want one?”

“I’m good. You might bite my finger if I get too close… mistake it for one of the buns…”

“Awe, what’s wrong? Think you wouldn’t taste good?”

“Yikes,” you laugh and Satoru hums, clearly pleased with your genuine mirth.

Shoko, who was soon engrossed in conversation with a few of the other patrons to the left of her, kept ordering rounds for the both of you. To keep up, you diligently sipped at each fresh beer, careful to keep abreast of the thrum of the alcohol with several responsible swigs of water. Satoru seemed content with his small order of sweets and peppered you with questions about life in America. He asked about what grade year you taught, the ins and outs of curses within the states and how you liked Japan. He kept things lively and made a point to throw in a few lighthearted jokes at you, beaming each time you laughed at his barbs.

“So, what you’re saying is there’s no one in America quite like me?” he teases, stretching his long arms dramatically before leaning closer to you.

“Stop that! You’re gonna hit someone,” you grin, trying to shove at his side, watching as your hand freezes in midair, held off by his limitless technique. “Seriously? You’ve still got that on?”

“Mmhm,” Satoru intones. “24/7, 365!”

“You would,” you try to jostle him again, bemused by the fraying and shimmering sliver of infinity that rests between the two of you.

“It’s a tremendous strain on my brain, you know,” he bemoans, dropping his head and fixing a long frown over his lips.

“You deserve it.”

“Ack!” Satoru cries out, clutching at his heart. “Wow! No sympathy! You really gonna treat me like this? My senpai?”

“May I remind you - Tokyo Disneyland,” you intone, glaring at his haggard expression.

“WOW. You’re never gonna let that go, huh?” Satoru cracks a face, arching his mouth and hollowing his cheeks, letting a high pitched, cracked voice leech from his lips. “Ahhh, that damned man! He deprived me of my dreams! The chance to see Tokyo Disneyland, one last time!”

“What is that? Me? But… old?”

“Pretty good, right?”

“No.”

“Well, I think it was uncanny!” he crows, nodding.

“What in your warped mind makes you think I’ll sound anything like that when I’m old?” you ask, pushing your empty beer pint forward as you purse your lips.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone so excited over the idea of a theme park,” he ponders, tapping a bent index finger against his smooth chin. “Don’t you guys have them in the states? The Disney parks, I mean.”

“We do, we have two. But, since you made me think we were coming to Tokyo Disneyland, I looked up some rides,” you snatch your phone from the counter, scrolling through a few photos before you land on the right one. “Ah! Here it is! Look at this! See?” you chirp, pushing the gleaming screen of your phone toward him.

“Uh. What am I looking at?”

“It’s the Tower of Terror!”

“Which is… ummm… a ride?”

“Yeah? And look at it! It’s upside down! I don’t think the one in America does that,” your finger reaches toward your phone and you blow up the closest image, tapping at the bright colors. Satoru laughs and waves a hand up, attracting the bartender once more and gesturing for another beer for you. “Imma get you another drink, you’re fun like this, plus, you’re just too cute with that little smile.”

You miss his last comment, wholly focused on finding another set of images. “Oh my God! Look! During Halloween they have a night parade in front of it! And… ahhh! Satoru! There’s a green ghost at the top! It’s almost like that curse we saw tonight at the carnival!”

His long fingers snatch up your bright device, and he yanks it away from your wide eyes. “Ok, that’s enough of that. I’m worried you might end up cursing me for not taking you.”

You give him a sour look and vainly try to grab your phone back, fingers unable to pass through his unseen barrier. “What? No fair! I still don’t understand how you can always have this up!”

“Practice,” he taunts, shaking his head at your determination and wandering touch, chuckling each time you bounce off of his cursed technique. “On another note,” he begins as your new lager is placed in front of you. “What’s in that report that you’re working on?”

You decide to ignore the fact that he’s still holding your phone and cautiously sip past the foam of your fresh beer, peering up at him, studying the lines of his white cloth. It doesn’t tell you much, so you look at his lips instead. They’re pale, but they’re held in a serious line, so you carefully construct your response. “What makes you think I have a report?”

“Why else would you be here?” Satoru counters, rapping his nails against the warped wood of the bar top. “I know you met with Yaga and you’re too cautious and overpowered to be sent on missions with Shoko and me. So you must be here for something else.”

“Officially,” you concede, “I’m here to observe the teaching techniques and skills of the alumni of your school. I’m sure this will come as no shock, but curses are getting more powerful, both here and overseas, and we’re doing our best to keep ahead of those changes. I’m supposed to pick up what tricks I can and bring them back home, to see how we can implement it.”

“Reasonable,” he allows, spreading his fingers before coiling them under his palms again. “But that’s not everything, is it?”

No, you think it’s not.

You lower your beer and look over at him. He’s braced himself against the bar and his head is dipped so his chin is almost against his breastbone. He doesn’t exactly look dejected, but you can see that he’s thinking deeply and something about that openness makes your heart squeeze. He looks a bit like a kicked puppy.

Ugh, he’s not a bad guy. He’s funny, and he knows what he’s doing, plus he has the confidence to get where he needs to go. In all honesty, he wouldn’t make a terrible teacher. Maybe not the best, but he certainly wouldn’t be the worst.

“I–there… there’s some concern you’d be too divided - that it’s not practical to have you teach and go on missions. I also don’t think your own elders trust you much.”

“Ah-ha!” Satoru beams, springing upward and pointing two finger guns at you. “You are here to look in on me! Knew it!”

You can’t help but laugh at him. “Fine, fine, you got me. Let’s get this over with, huh? So we can get back to talking about things other than work, I liked that. What’s the most direct thing I can ask? Hmm, oh! I’ll start with something easy–Why do you want to teach?”

“That’s easy?” he whines, head falling again.

“It’s straightforward,” you bargain, propping your chin on your fist, looking him over.

“Sure, let’s pretend that’s not a deceptively loaded question! Alright, well, it’s the best way to change things.”

“Change things?”

“Yup. Like you mentioned, lately curses have become more powerful and lately it feels like I’m the only one who’s being sent on these high-level missions. Frankly, it’s stupid to rely on just me that much, you know? That’s not practical, or even realistic. So, to my mind, it’s vital I throw my support behind some of these up-and-coming kids. You know, foster the next generation and all that. I want reliable allies in the field and to have that, I’ve gotta make sure they’re taught right. Give them everything I know, make them better than me, stronger than me.”

You’re quiet for a long breath, eyes wide, fingers frozen around your glass, which was midway to your lips. “Damn,” you smile, letting the word hang. “You know, that was actually a pretty good answer.”

Satoru clicks his tongue and curls his lips in a grimace. “Don’t sound so surprised.”

“I mean,” you chuckle and look up at him, eyes bright. “Well, your attitude doesn’t always inspire confidence.”

“Ahhhhhh,” he groans, thumping his covered forehead against the bar. “Such a low blow! Bartender! Another round for me!”

“Please,” you sigh, finally taking a sip of your beer. “Do not call your sweet buns ‘another round.’” He grins at you and leans across the bar top, shifting his weight toward your bent arm. The pressure of his shoulder is warm and you nudge at him a little, playfully. He tuts at you but continues to stare ahead, a faint smile teasing the edge of his lips.

As the bartender slides the requested plate of sweets down, you suddenly realize that you’re touching him. Your eyes widen and you slowly turn your head toward his. He’s not looking at you, content with chewing on his sweet bread, but he’s still braced against you. It’s like all of your senses are finely tuned to that one spot of faint friction between the two of you. You can feel the lines of his muscled arm as he shifts and you involuntarily gulp, doing your best to ignore the abrupt thudding of your heart.

He said he always kept it up, didn’t he? Something about 24/7 and all the days of the year, so why is he…

“Hey,” Shoko’s voice startles you and you instinctively slide closer to Satoru, arm dragging against his shoulder as you try to right yourself again. “I’m gonna go win this drinking contest these guys have started. You two sticking around for a bit?”

“Uh,” you begin, but Satoru cuts you off, draping an arm over the back of your chair. “Yeah, we’ll be here. What are the stakes?”

“Not sure. But the pot is likely against me, if you’re in a betting mood.”

“Sure, I’ll put 20,000 yen on you.”

“Is…” you start, but Shoko is already walking off, one arm pumped into the air as she shoulders her way to the long table that’s filled with five or six others, all of them holding a full pint glass of beer between their hands. You turn back to Satoru and let out a long breath. “Is that safe?”

“Huh?” he asks, face close to yours. You can smell his cologne from here and the heady scent of him and crisp patchouli fills your senses. “I mean Shoko, will she be ok?” you elaborate, eyes studying the space where his own would be, silently hoping that he’ll pull down the barrier that covers half of him from your curious gaze.

“Ah,” he nods sagely, leaning back a little to look out at where Shoko is sitting, quietly waiting for the start of the game with her full beer. “She’s got a ridiculously high tolerance. Wouldn’t be surprised if it’s part of her cursed technique. She’ll be fine.”

“True, she likely knows the limits of the human body better than anyone else. But… I don’t think I’ve ever seen her so… excited?” you muse, sitting against your chair and running into the flat palm of Satoru’s hand. For a moment, you debate shifting away, but he’s not really doing anything, just letting the tips of his fingers rest against the curve of your spine, tapping a disjointed rhythm as he watches the start of the contest, that all too familiar smile still tugging at the corners of his lips.

“She used to be a little more laid back, you know?” he replies, leaning a little harder into your side as he lowers his voice, keeping close to your ear so you can hear him. “She always looks so tired now and her whole outlook has changed, but I suppose four years of med school will do that to you. Although, I did hear that she cheated her way out.”

“No!” you gasp, eyebrows lifted in shock. Satoru laughs, and for once, you’re not thinking it might be at your expense. “Yeah! Just the word on the street. But I wouldn’t put it past her. Shoko’s always done her best to avoid things, namely confrontation or extra work, so it makes sense she’d jet outta med school as fast as she could too.”

“That’s crazy and frankly, terrifying.”

“Riiight?” he shivers, lips raising in an exaggerated wince. “But that’s our Shoko. I’ve got a feeling she’ll do well at the school and I’m grateful I’ll have time to work with her again. It’s been way too long…” Satoru trails off and you can feel his hand slip up your back, fingers ghosting over your shoulder blades.

“Stop that,” you scold, shaking him off with a quick jolt and twisting around to look at his roguish smirk. “What happened to always maintaining your barrier?”

“Awe” he groans, dunking his head against your shoulder with a thump. “Come on, I’ve gotta win you over somehow!”

“Are you serious?”

“Well, I mean, I want the job.”

“I’m gonna hit you,” you threaten, doing your best to keep your bubbling amusement contained.

“Try it,” he taunts, lifting his head and keeping his face close. His nose is inches from yours and you can barely make out his sharp grin, but you can feel the drag and pull of his breath as it passes over you, leaving a lingering sweetness against your skin. Instantly, your hand lifts to him, fully intent on shoving him back, but you can’t move any closer, trapped by the sudden emergence of his infinity.

“Ass,” you prickle, shaking your head at his antics. Another peal of laughter falls from his soft lips and you can’t help but smile back, caught up in his infectious joviality. “Tch. Don’t make me find more Tokyo Disney pictures.”

“You can’t,” he informs you, cocking his head at your confusion. “I still have your phone.”

“Hey! Give that back!” you gasp, snatching blindly at him. He shifts back into his seat and yanks your device out of his pocket, waggling it tauntingly in front of you. “Uh-uh! Gotta get past the barrier first!”

“That’s not fair!”

“Never said that I’d make this… oh! Shoko! How did it go? Win me something?”

You twist and spot Shoko’s dark head approaching the two of you. She pauses beside Satoru and flips a large stack of bills down on the bar top, a wide grin on her usually impassive face. “As expected, I won. Here’s your cut, Satoru. Don’t spend it all in one place or on another order of sweet buns, would you? Think you can do that for me?”

She and Satoru bicker back and forth playfully as you unfold several of the notes, aimlessly organizing them on the countertop as their brisk conversation winds back down.

“So,” Shoko murmurs, pulling a pack of cigarettes from her back pocket and knocking one free from the carton. “You two gonna head out soon? I don’t really see a need to call one of the managers, the school’s close by and so is (Y/N)’s hotel.”

“Yeah,” Satoru replies, finally passing your phone back as he collects the neatly stacked set of yen from you. “Figured, I’d see her back.”

“I can find it!” you protest, jamming your phone safely into your pouch once more.

“Sure,” he mocks, arching toward you as he braces an elbow against the bar. “You can barely speak Japanese and I know you can’t read much kanji, but sure thing, let’s let you loose in the city. See how far you make it before you’re calling one of us, hmm?”

“That’s not… I–”

“Yeah, yeah,” Satoru waves his hand back and forth and turns back to Shoko. “I’ll let her finish her drink and then we’ll head out. See you tomorrow?”

Shoko nods at his question and, for a moment, you think you spy a knowing look pass between the two of them, but before you can call out to her, Shoko is already making her way toward the door.

“What was that?” you ask, eyes narrowed as Satoru looks down at you, white hair gleaming under the low lights. “What?” he asks innocently, propping his chin onto his open palm. “That look that the two of you just gave each other.”

“No idea what you’re talking about. You sure that beer didn’t hit you a little too hard?”

“Ugh, shut up.”

Despite it being late August, a cool breeze greets the two of you when you step out of the bar. “It’s so nice out,” you comment, readjusting your boots as you hop onto the sidewalk.

“Mmhm,” he agrees, bracing his arms behind his head as you make your way down the street. “So did you decide what you’re gonna write in your report?”

You glance up at him and make sure he can see you rolling your eyes. “Back to trying to butter me up?”

“Never! Just asking. If you wanna say I’m crazy and can’t be trusted, that’s fine. I can think of a few others who’d agree with you.”

“Oh? Who?”

“Most people,” he laughs, stepping a little nearer and bumping against you, shocking you with the actual weight and warmth of his body again. As you continue on, you lift your hand to his arm and press the pad of your finger against his sleeve. This time, nothing bars your way so you run the digit slowly along his arm, smiling when he shivers and bats you away.

“Stop that! Someone’s gonna see and think you’re taking advantage of me!”

The laugh that explodes from your chest at that mental image makes you stop dead in your tracks, arms lacing around your shaking stomach. Satoru scoffs at your bent figure and leans down, shaking his head at your guffawing.

“The… the… fact that you… think that anyone… would think that… I–”

“You’re lucky your laugh is so cute,” he muses, bracing his arms over your bent back, playfully pinning you down as he crosses his forearms.

“Hey!” you protest, squirming under his hold. “Let me up!”

“Tell me what you’ve written about me!” he threatens, chuckling as you squirm under him.

“I only said that Satoru Gojo is an absolute monster and shouldn’t be trusted with anyone’s future,” you cry out, overly pantomiming your overwrought expressions, peeking up at him from under his laced arms.

“Oh? Just that? Well, you’re right. So, fair is fair!” Satoru replies, slipping off of you so fast that you nearly tumble to the hard concrete. Half a beat later, he’s back in front of you and lifting you back to your full height, fingers soothing over your arms as he tugs you toward him. “Would it kill you to toss in a bit of praise? Talk about my undeniable prowess and skill? Wax poetic about my stunning efficiency? You know, make them think that I’ve won you over with my charms. After all, you can’t resist me, can you?”

“But what if I don’t want to?” he teases, his voice falling into a lower, hushed pitch before he relaxes his hold, letting you slip from his hands.

A distant quake dashes up your spine, but it’s not from the chill in the air. “Uh, you sure you didn’t sneak some shots under the table? The way you’re pawing at me, you’d think you were the one in the drinking contest.”

“Nah, I told you, I don’t drink. Messes with my eyes.” Satoru pats his index finger against his white wrappings for emphasis.

“Mmm, the six eyes, right? Powerful ability, from what little I’ve heard of it.”

“Yeah,” he hums. “It’s a rare technique. Wanna see?”

You’d walked on, but once the question leaves his lips your feet swivel back, as if they have a mind of their own. He’s standing where he was, hands dug into the pockets of his pants, a lazy smile resting on his lips. The moonlight makes his hair shine, and the gleam is bright against the darkness of the street. The glow makes him look taller, imposing. He’s quiet as he waits for your answer and you take advantage of the extra time to mull over the strange man in front of you.

He’s enigmatic; a force to be reckoned with, for curses and fellow sorcerers alike and, like most jujutsu users, a little crazy. Even knowing all of this, there’s something about him that’s drawing you in. It’s like the pull of a magnet. It tugs at the forefront of your mind and makes you step closer, wanting to see if you can unravel the puzzle that’s Satoru Gojo.

“Fine,” you hear yourself reply, crossing your arms, steadfastly watching for his next move. “Go on. Let me see what all the hype is about.”

He grins and that mischievous look makes your heart beat race against your breastbone as yet another quake slips up your back. “Ready?” he asks, right thumb hooking under the fabric that covers his eyes. You nod once and the pad of his finger starts that short, upward, pull.

He’s slow, painfully slow, in his unveiling.

The smooth angle of his upper cheek peeks out, and he’s careful to roll up the white cloth as he goes. Then, right as he hits the groove of his lower eye, he stops, a frown pulling over his lips. “Mmm, I don’t know…” he contemplates, holding his thumb under his wrappings. “What if I don’t live up to your expectations? Can’t let you down. Not when you’ve been so patient. I know you’ve been wanting to ask, I can see it in your face. Every time we’d start an exorcism you’d look at me, like you were waiting, watching to see if I’d finally take off the coverings.”

Did you?

Does it matter?

Do you want it to matter?

Flabbergasted by his all too true accusations and entirely eaten up with curiosity, you march up to him and wrap your fingers around his raised wrist, not noticing that you’re actually touching him and completely unaware of the alluring smile he flashes when your hand coils around his. “Ugh, come on! For once in your life, stop being such a tease! You’re never fair, always so… so pompous and… and–”

You’d shoved his hand upward as you began your preamble but as soon as the tightly wrapped cloth passed over his right eye you feel your breath leave your tensed body.

His eyelashes are pale, the same ashen color as his hair, but they contrast beautifully with the lone eye that peers down. Beautiful? No, it’s more than that. It’s… it’s…

Truthfully, it’s indescribable and unlike anything you’ve ever seen.

It’s blue; but it’s not an ordinary shade. No, the color seems to meld and shift before your shocked gaze, drifting from hue to hue as the color deepens and lightens. Clouds. It’s like clouds passing over a summer sky. The brightness of the cerulean ensnares you, and you can feel your mouth go dry as you stare up at him.

His eyes are stunning, perfect, and irresistible, hauntingly so.

“So, what do you think?” Satoru asks, pulling his wrist from your grasp and snatching your limp hand in his, twining his long fingers between your own. His skin is warm and you need to say something, anything, but your mind is stuttering, lagging miles behind as you fall headfirst into the overwhelming pull of his presence.

Finally, you unstick part of your tongue.

“They’re… uh… I don’t… ha… God…” You shake your head roughly and the familiarity of that motion slips out of the trance he’s placed you under. As soon as you can think again, you jerk your hand from his and blindly walk down the darkened street. Your heart feels like it’s about to fall out of your chest and you can’t stop nibbling on your lower lip.

It’s not… this isn’t how this is supposed to go, you think, trying vainly to get the shine of Satoru’s eyes out of your mind.

“Never answered my question,” Satoru coos beside you, his long legs quickly catching up with you. “What’s wrong? You like em’ a little too much?… Or…”

“They… they’re kinda creepy,” you blurt out, fingers curling into your palms.

“Creepy!” he gasps, hopping in front of you and lifting up both sides of his wrappings, granting you a peek of both eyes. You do your best to avoid looking at him head on, turning and weaving from him, but he dances closer each time you shift. Damn it. His animated performance makes you exhale a quiet chuckle, and he takes your amusement as a sign to continue, constantly placing himself in your way with a broad grin.

“Stop!” you plead, openly laughing at his sudden burst of silliness. “Now you’re acting like a creep! Satoru! Don’t! Stop showing them to me! You’re losing all of your appeal! Isn’t part of your charm the mystery? Actually, that’s likely all of your charm. Come on, stop it, there’s a cop on that street corner, he’s gonna think you’re drunk and harassing me!”

“Whaaat!” Satoru gulps, whipping his head around to look at the tired policemen that’s leaning against a dim street lamp. “Oh no! The police! Quick (Y/N), before he spots us!” His long fingers snatch up your pliant wrist and he tugs you into a dark alleyway.

“Hey! Where are you taking me? Officer!” you call out playfully as you balefully follow him, dragging your feet along the dusty ground. “He’s over here! Help!”

“Oi! Knock it off! You wanna get me arrested?”

“Oh please, there’s no way that guy is about to follow–”

“Shit! Shhh, he’s coming this way! Come on!” The sheer force of his grip yanks you forward and you stumble after him. He takes the corner of the next alleyway and the pair of you dash along the wet patches that litter the broken concrete. He’s moving at a tremendous speed, but his feet barely make a noise as he glides over the grimy ground and it takes everything you’ve got to just hold on and keep up.

A few twists and turns later, you can finally see the bright lights of the busy street that your hotel is on and you feel a heavy exhale of relief leave your burning lungs. Satoru skids to a halt right before he tumbles onto the safety of the sidewalk that rests a few paces ahead and pulls you beside him, grinning down at you as you try to catch your breath.

“I think we lost him!” he beams and you suck your teeth as you bend over, hands bracing themselves against your knees. “There…there’s no… he wasn’t actually chasing us. Even if he was, I doubt he can catch up now….” your voice trails off as you hear a distant shout from the alleyway and the thud of heavy boots.

No. There’s no way you think dumbly as you stare into the darkness, eyes searching for movement.

“See? I told you he was on to us. He’ll see us if he comes this way. What if… Oooh, lemme try something,” Satoru’s broad hands grab at you and he swiftly maneuvers you against the damp brick of the nearest building, careful not to scrape your back as he pushes you against the rust colored siding. “Just play along, I doubt he’ll notice. Don’t give me that look, it’s your fault he’s following us!”

“My fault? I didn’t… oh–”

His lips are sleeker than you’d imagined.

That first, teasing kiss he gives you already has you lifting your head, following the beguiling smoothness of his mouth, silently asking him for another caress. When he leans down your hands bunch into the dark fabric of his uniform and you can feel his smile against your slackened lips. He doesn’t touch you; his fingers don’t wander to the back of your jaw or the dip of your skull, instead he opts to flatten his angles against your curves, pressing until you can’t feel anything but him.

The next kiss he gives you has a little more bite behind it, literally.

His sharp nose bumps your cheek and his teeth worry against the plush swell of your lower lip, sucking and nipping until you’re snatching for his shoulders, searching for some kind of leverage. His mouth parts and right when you think he’s about to deepen his strokes and teasing pecks, he leans back and cocks his head at your flustered expression. “I’ve always wanted to try that,” he tells you, bracing one of his arms above your head. “It looks so fun in the movies.”

That cop could be right behind him, could be waiting for you both to stop your ridiculous routine and face the harsh gleam of reality, but you don’t care, not right now.

Your hands had fallen from him when he pulled back, and the absence of his warmth makes you desperate to touch him again. But, when you snatch at the corners of his dark jacket, you’re met with that damned barrier.

“Really?” you bemoan, licking at your kiss slick lips, trying again. “You’re the worst, you know that? You let me get used to the idea of having access to you and then just cut it–mmmph…”

With a faint shudder of space, his barrier is lowered once more and his lips are back against yours. This time, his hands join in and he cups his fingers behind your ears, tilting you up as he glides his soft touch over you until you’re groaning.

“Could have just told me you wanted more…” he rumbles in between his caresses, fingers tracing over the line of your jaw, your neck, and the slope of your shoulders. It’s like he can’t decide where he wants to go and you love the momentary burst of indecisiveness that’s broken over him.

More, apparently, entails you asking him to come up to your room.

He’d laughed when you’d mentioned it, your lips swollen and glassy from his attentions, and you’d almost taken it back, peeved by his genuine amusement at the idea, but then he’d plucked you into his arms and smoothed any lingering doubts with another flurry of nips and kisses.

“This gonna make it into your report?” he grins, yanking his high collared jacket off and tossing it carelessly onto the floor. “I should,” you barb, pulling the long band of your hip pouch off, letting it clatter to the ground as your fingers work up the buttons of your own uniform. “Let them think that you’re abusing your status.”

“Tch, me? Abuse my power? Never. Hey, I think you’re supposed to go slower with that. Don’t just yank all of your clothes off. You know, take your time, tease me a little,” Satoru chuckles, jerking his chin toward your busy hands.

“Oh? Wanting a show?” you ask, threading the last button and spreading the heavy material apart, revealing the thin shirt that’s obscuring his view of your breasts and stomach. “Well, that’s too bad, because taking all this gear off is never fun, or sexy for that matter…”

“Not with that attitude,” he hums, stepping closer, peeling his skin tight undershirt off and revealing the sleek planes of his rippled muscles. Most sorcerers are fit; and many boast beefier sets of pectorals and curving arches of biceps and triceps, but there’s something about the streamlined leanness of Satoru that’s making your hands itch. He’s not far, you could reach out for him, slip your fingers over the dips and beveled lines of his abdomen and follow that tempting strip of white that winds down the front of his pants, but that makes this too easy and there’s nothing about Satoru that’s easy.

“Mmm, that’s a new look.” His voice is distant to your ears, but the satisfied note that’s vibrating through his words makes you snap your head up, fingernails scraping against your palms. “You look like you wanna eat me (Y/N)… or maybe, taste is a better adjective. Awe, what’s the matter? Worried I won’t let you?”

You run your tongue over your lips and lift one hand, holding it steady and crooking your index finger at his brazen expression, pleased to see that cheeky smile of his falters a little. “Do me a favor, come here and take off that blindfold.”

“Ah-ha, so bossy,” he growls, voice sinking into that sinfully lower octave as he raises his broad hands to the back of his wrappings, unwinding the fabric and slowly advancing toward you. He stops when the tips of his toes are inches from your own, bracing his palms toward his face, holding the last strip across his eyes. “Wanna do the honors? Or are you expecting me to do all the work tonight?”

“As if. Besides…” you snicker, pulling two fingers to the remains of his blindfold and peeling it down, watching as his hair falls forward, slowly divulging the top of his forehead, pale eyebrows and that shock of avid blue that’s already gazing down at you. “I think you like when I tell you what to do, don’t you?”

“Ahh, looks like she figured me out,” Satoru groans, letting the ivory bindings fall to the floor, his hands already reaching for your waist. He doesn’t give you an opportunity to study him, but they’ll be time for that later, you reason, arms lacing around his chorded neck.

This kiss is hungrier and his tongue immediately dances along the seam of your lips, pressing until you give in. It’s an awkward angle, but he expertly adjusts himself to you, slotting a warm palm against the small of your back and raising the other to curl into your hair, lifting you until it’s perfect.

He’s greedy, devouring every inch you give him with a ravenous edge, but when you suck on his lower lip, he slips into something that’s clearly a little more unhinged.

Suddenly, he’s the one who’s bending forward, trying to get as close to you as he physically can, hunching until you can trace your fingertips over the sharpness of his jaw. His teeth clink against yours as he snatches you up, and you can feel the sharp bulge of his length, the hardness grinding down your hips and stomach as he yanks you nearer. It’s hard to breathe, but he’s refusing to let you budge, lips avariciously seeking and pulling, leaving you with nothing else but the sheer enormity of his touch.

“Fuck,” he gasps, finally letting you fall from his grasp, heaving out a few unsteady breaths. “You’ve got way too much on. Why do you still have so much on?” He plucks at your shirt but stops when he frees the edge from your pants, cerulean eyes bright in the moonlight. “Take it off,” he heaves, forehead pressing against yours, lifting his fingers from you. “Take it off for me, please?”

You nod, a little taken aback by his sudden desperation, and he watches closely as you yank the thin material up, blue eyes shining as you unveil yourself. When the shirt passes over your breasts, he gives you a distracted kiss to the temple before he pulls away, freeing you to pull it over your head and sighing happily when it finally hits the floor, leaving you partially bare. As soon as your arms lower, he’s back against you, hands cupping at your hips, jerking you forward. “Whoa,” you gasp, bracing your palms against his chest. “Slow down. Let me get the rest of this–”

“No, no, no, no,” he chants, fingers smoothing up your spine. “Stop, for a second… just… just gimme a minute. You feel so nice. Your skin, it’s… it’s so warm and so fucking smooth, ahhh. Ohh, yes. A few more seconds (Y/N), just let me… It’s been so long since I’ve touched someone like this. I kinda forgot what it felt like and I don’t wanna let go, not yet.”

His head is bowed and that hauntingly blue gaze is covered by his winced eyelids, but he can’t seem to stop moving. Even as he asks you to hold still, to let him touch you, feel you, he keeps shifting his weight and burrowing his brow into the dip of your shoulder.

“Can I take this off?” he asks, nails scritching at the clasp of your bra. “Please? Lemme take it off. Come on. I know you wanna touch me too, I saw how you were looking at me a minute ago. You’re so fucking cute, I can’t… ahaha, fuck, I sound insane. Look, I’ll slow down, I promise, just gimme a little more of you.”

When he mischievously snaps the strap of your bra against your shoulder blade, you can’t help but laugh at his infectious exuberance. His head lifts from you and he turns his attention to your neck, soft lips sucking and nipping at you until you’re wriggling in his hold. “Alright, alright! Just step back, Satoru! I’ll take it off,” you placate, knocking him away and huffing at the long face he gives you in return. “Here,” your fingers unhook the two pronged clasp and the delicate lace slips from your shoulders, falling to the carpeted floor with a hush. “Okay, that’s everything on the top half. Now what are–Ah! Satoru!”

He takes full advantage of his superior speed and before you can blurt out a proper retort, he’s against you.

His teeth worry at your earlobe and he immediately hoists you upward, seizing the lush curve of your ass and pulling you into his powerful arms, urging your legs to wrap around his trim waist. When you shakily oblige, he cups one lean arm under you, but the other drags you forward, scraping your newly bared breasts and stiffened nipples against the planes of his powerful pectorals. When he walks, you jostle in his grasp and coil your fingers around his neck, smiling when he moans contentedly at your reliance on his firm hold. “Damn,” he grunts, cocking his head so he can lick a wet circle into your pulse. “You feel fucking good (Y/N). So damn smooth, how are you so soft? God, I want more, I wanna feel everything.”

The front of his shins hit the edge of your bed and he tumbles you down, a dark grin spreading over his face as he watches you stretch out teasingly. He plants a knee into the soft bedding and braces both arms beside your head, leering over you.

For a long breath, both of you study each other, eyes whisking over gleaming skin and the curves of your faces. Without the added heft of that blindfold Satoru’s snowy hair hangs loosely over his face, straight tendrils clinging to his brow, making him look younger, mellower, and so very handsome. Opting to take advantage of this lull, you reach up and thread your fingers into the silken strands.

When you reach the edge of his temple, you scrape your nails against his scalp, grinning as he lets a heavy exhale fall between his lips, cerulean eyes falling to a pleased half mast. “You’re trying to distract me,” he accuses, gliding a wide palm up your side. You shake your head and keep twirling his hair across your fingertips, marveling at his own softness. “No. I just like your hair.”

“That’s a first,” he snorts, cupping a palm underneath one of your breasts and pulling his thumb over the swelling bud of your nipple. “Here I am, trying to feel you up, and you’re too distracted by my hair to appreciate it. How rude.”

“Shut up,” you gasp out, arching into his hand as he tweaks and plucks at your pebbled tip. “You’re lucky I’m even… mmm… letting you do this.”

“Please. It was your idea, remember?”

Satoru lowers one of his braced arms, letting his weight fall heavily to one side as he keeps his deepening ministrations up. Your fingers are still buried in his hair when he drops his lips to your breast. You feel the flick of his tongue first, and the light tap has you bowing your back, gasping out a faint cry as his rough appendage continues to swipe and twirl over your sensitive flesh. Instinctively, your hands tug at his pearlescent strands and he tilts his head up, fixing you with a lazy stare. “That’s better, looks like I just need to refocus you, huh?” he muses, his words half garbled as he sucks your plump breast into his mouth. He keeps flicking his tongue over you as he suckles, lapping and nipping until you’re writhing under him.

Once he’s satisfied, his free hand lowers to your grinding hips, forcing you to lay flat against the bed, switching his attention to the neglected twin, sucking and pressing open mouthed bites to your damp, shaking skin.

A tight heat is coiling in your core and your thighs rub against each other, trying to cool the sharp pricks of arousal that are coursing through you. As soon as your hands fall from his head, Satoru picks up his pace, licking his sloppy tongue under your breasts and nibbling his way down your quivering stomach. “You’re still wearing way too much,” he scolds, fingers toying with the gold clasp of your pants.

“It’s… oh… difficult to take things off when you… ah–won’t let me move more than two feet from you.” You’d meant it to sound a little firmer, but his constant touch is wearing down your focus, distracting you with brilliant flashes of his luminescent blues and whites.

“Awe, (Y/N),” he whines, popping his hand against your hip, long fingers digging into your swelled curves. “That’s not fair. I told you, I always have my barrier up. Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve touched someone, anyone? I mean really touched them?”

“Daw,” you sigh, propping yourself up on your elbows and peering down at him. “You poor thing. The all powerful Satoru Gojo, too honed and practiced with his neutral technique that he can’t even hold anyone’s hand.”

“Ha, such a jerk,” he laughs, exaggerating a wounded frown. “I bare my soul to you and this is how I’m treated?”

“Stop being so dramatic,” you scoff, yanking your legs from under him and popping up on your knees, hands reaching for him, curling under his jaw and urging him upwards. His eyes lock onto yours and the grin that tweaks the corner of his lips gives you an idea. “You said you wanted to touch more of me, right?”

As you wait for your answer, you scoot backwards, making him follow you across the bed, finally luring all of his sprawling form onto the cool sheets. “Mmhm,” he grunts, doing his best to keep close, teasing fingers inches from your skin at all times, always ready to stroke and cup each time you pause. When you hit the headboard you stop, studying his features, admiring the growing hunger that’s screaming its way out of his wide eyes.

“You ever eaten a girl out?”

The question hangs for half a second and you can see his pupils dilate, the black threatening to swallow up the sky streaked blue of his eyes. Then, right when you’re about to tease him for his gaping mouth and flushed cheeks, he’s bowling past you, splaying out against the mattress and pulling you on top of him.

“Fuck, that’s by far the best thing I’ve heard all day. Hell, all month. I’ll likely go to my grave thinking about that question. Ouch! Stop squirming, you’re kneeing me in the ribs.”

“I wouldn’t… Satoru! I can’t breathe if you hold me like that!” His arms are like cables, all tensed muscle and raw strength as he pins you against his heaving chest, lips kissing and nipping at any part of you he can reach.

“Whatever,” he grumbles, sucking a bruise into your arched collarbone. “Hurry up and take your pants off. And don’t say you can’t do it like this, you’re a grade 1 sorcerer, you can do anything you put your mind to.”

“Is that going to be part of your teaching regime?” you smart, bucking your hips up so you can unclasp and wiggle your pants down your legs.

“Oooh, you’re right, that sounds good. Damn, I gotta start writing this shit down. That way I can have a whole list of euphemisms. Can you imagine? Molding young minds and helping them to stand up to all the bullshit that those so-called elders make everyone suffer under. All those rules and regulations, the stupid ins and outs they make us all jump through–”

“Hmm,” your voice falls to a gentle hum as you snatch at his chin, stilling his chatter with a single finger against his lips. “That sounds ambitious, but why don’t we take things a little slower, give that mind of yours something else to focus on?”

“Oh?” Satoru smirks, arching an ashen eyebrow at you. “Then you better get up here, before I get distracted again.”

“Don’t you mean down?”

“Huh, down? Ah, I see where the confusion is. Nah, I want you to ride my tongue, baby, so hurry up.” His long arms help him jerk you upward, easily lifting and enticing you forward. That early impatience is peeking out once more, and he pops his head up, nostrils flaring as your uncovered cunt drifts nearer. “Ah, God, I bet you’re so fucking wet. I can smell you from here. Come on, grab onto the headboard and let me get to it.”

Your legs shake as you plant them beside his head and you do your best to steady your pounding heart, pulling a thin stream of air through your parted lips. As soon as you touch the wood of the headboard, he’s gripping your thighs so tightly you’re sure he’s going to leave bruises behind. The tip of his nose is the first thing you feel, and it’s so close to your pulsing clit that you inadvertently cant your hips forward. “Ooh, sensitive, are we?” he crows, nestling himself under you, his breath hot against your dampened folds and wet curls.

The following slick slurp of his tongue and the slow pass of his lips make your head tip back. He’s surprisingly gentle, slowly licking his way along your labia, pulling and sucking as he goes, teasing closer to that tight bud that’s waiting, just a little bit higher.

At first, you worry about crushing him, too caught up in the placement of your weight to fall into the haze his mouth is begging you to slip into. But then his lips latch onto you, careful to mouth in time with the thud of your clit, suckling and squeezing until you can’t help but grind down, earning yourself a sharp groan that reverberates against your trembling skin. Using the weight of the headboard as leverage, you roll your hips over him, shifting in time with his well-placed rhythm.

He’s good, but even the great Satoru Gojo isn’t perfect, not all the time.

When he nips at you a little too hard you shift back, depriving him of your wet heat, loving the petulant sighs and moans he gives you when you do. “Ah, sorry. Gimme a little more time,” he bargains, fingers sinking into the voluptuous curve of your ass, tying to urge you back over his glistening lips. “I’ll do better, (Y/N). Besides, I want you to cum for me. You taste so fucking good and I want it, I want all of it. Hey! Don’t be like that! I said I’d do better. Come back here.”

God, he’s such a brat.

Every time you shift away he’s got another string of exasperated pleas ready, twitching his fingers and shaking his pale head at your impudence. “Less talking,” you moan, shivering as he delves his tongue into you, feeling his grin as your cunt squeezes around his intrusion. “Ok, ok,” he growls, using his brute strength to overpower your tensed legs. “Mmm, yes baby, ah–just relax, I’ll take care of you.”

Fuck, you think as you sink your fingers into his hair, spurring him on, this feels way too good.

When he captures your clit between his teeth and tweaks the tip of his tongue against you, you can’t help but fall to pieces. Your orgasm hits you like a battering ram, seizing hold of your muscles as it rolls through you and scattering a faint spark of spots across your vision. Satoru’s arms wrap around your blindly pistoning hips, helping you to sink closer, ravenously slurping and swallowing down each wave of arousal that hits his gluttonous lips.

You’re still shaking when he pulls out from under you, flipping you bonelessly under him as his hands finally rid himself of his clearly tented and damp pants. Your eyes are just clearing when you catch sight of him, studiously following that trail of white curls to his impressive length. His cock is long, curving proudly toward his chiseled stomach and bubbling a clear string of pre-cum from the flushed tip. You do your best to sit up, but as soon as he catches sight of your movement, his broad palm is pressing you back. “Ah-ah,” he taunts, stroking a hand over his swollen cock and wiping the last of your slick from his face against his shoulder. “Keep still for me, ‘kay?’”

His wide palms spread your legs apart, and he soothes his fingertips along your skin as he tugs a few heady groans from himself. “Fuck, you look so good. You’re so goddamn pretty. When you were sitting there at the bar and you looked so fucking happy I couldn’t take my eyes off you, you just looked so nice. Haven’t even known you a week, and I’m already obsessed with hearing that laugh of yours. You put some kinda spell on me, huh? That what this is?”

“Ugh, stop talking, Satoru,” you threaten, watching the steady ebb and flow of his clenched fist. His cock looks so smooth and you’re desperate to reach for it, to take hold of velvety flesh and see how long it would take for the world’s strongest sorcerer to be putty in your hands.

He arches a pale brow at your blatant stare. “You want it?”

“I want you,” you correct, and the smile that breaks across his handsome face makes your heart squeeze.

“Awe, how can I possibly say no to that?” he asks, gleefully lining himself up with your slit. Despite his early eagerness, he’s taking his time with this part, running the bulbous head of his cock over you, gathering up some of your gossamer strands, slicking himself with your dripping arousal. “Sorry,” he amends when he makes another pass along your folds. “It’s been awhile and I want to take it all in. I don’t wanna rush this.”

“It’s fine,” you smile, lifting your hands to pass them over his stomach, watching as his muscles ripple under your delicate touch. “Just don’t take too long or you’re not going to be on top for much longer.”

“That a threat or a promise, baby?” Satoru leers, finally slipping his tip past that first, tight ring of your entrance. Despite his bravado, his lips curl over his teeth and he lets out a low hiss as he sinks into you, inch by shallow inch. The pressure of his cock makes you arch, legs automatically wrapping around his waist, heels digging into the small of his back. He bows his head and his ethereal gaze falls behind his shaking eyelids as he thrusts forward, edging himself along until he bottoms out within you. Fuck, you feel so full.

The stretch of him makes you shake and you’re grateful he’s taking his time when he stills, lips smacking distracted kisses over your heated cheeks and parted lips, giving you time to adjust to him, and he to you. After a few steadying breaths, his teeth bite at the hollow of your throat and he pulls his hips back, grinning as your hands grasp into the sheets, a sharp whine escaping you. He echoes your sentiment, letting a gasping string of curses tumble from his shaking lips as he ruts forward again, one hand gripping at your right leg, prying you from his waist and slinging the trembling limb over his shoulder.

This angle has him pressing against something wonderful and sharp, and you can’t help but gasp out his name as he starts to methodically ram into it, over and over. You can feel him swell at the sound of your pleading moans and you savor the feel of his cock throbbing against your tender walls. “More,” you shudder, fingers trying to hurry his steady hips as he diligently cants into you.

“In a minute,” he grunts, biting at your pliant skin, arms coiling under your back. “This feels too fucking good. Let me just… ah… fuck…”

He slows, moving at a pace that sets your teeth on edge, and you thrash under him. Although his cock is digging against that aching place that’s sending dots and stars across your eyes, it’s not enough pressure. Licking your lips, you worm one of your hands between the two of you and pinch and roll your fingers over your clit, easing some of the tingling bittersweetness that’s pulsing over you.

“Alright, alright, point taken,” Satoru chuckles, releasing your leg from his tight grip and re-lacing it around his hips. “How do you want it, baby? You want it fast? Or do you want it hard? Tell me.”

“I don’t know,” you murmur, peeking up at his enthralling cerulean, willingly ensnaring yourself in the intensity of his gaze. “I just want more of you.”

“Tch,” he hums, cupping a hand against your warm cheek. “Don’t say shit like that, I might end up falling for you.”

The laugh that echoes from your lips is swiftly cut off by a gasp as he abruptly ups the pace of his thrusts. He’s quick, but he’s still listening and watching for what you like. When you moan he’s right there with you, steadying his rhythm, and when you call out his name, he digs a little harder.

It’s too much. It feels raw, like you’re scratching at a cut. Like there’s some itch that you just can’t reach.

All of it, the feel of his meaty balls slapping against the sticky plushness of your ass, and those breathy moans makes your head spin. The intensity of the moment slips your fingers from your clit, but he makes up for their loss by grinding down each time he sinks into your cunt, scraping the hard edge of his pelvic bone against your throbbing bud.

He’s good. Fuck.

You can feel the hazy slope of your orgasm approaching and you blindly arch up each time he careens downward, ensuring that he’s hitting right where you need him to. His movements start to hit a lull as he slips into his own fog of lingering pleasure, dipping his head to your neck and sighing contentedly when you kiss at his temple. But the tenderness of your touch must knock him out of his own whirring thoughts and he rewards you with another set of rapid fire thrusts, his lips pulling from your neck to seek out yours, kissing and nipping until you’re gasping for air.

“Mmmm,” he moans, breath hot against your skin. “You feel so good and you’re getting so fucking tight. You gonna’ cum for me? One more time?”

You do your best to gulp out a reply, but the abrupt press of his calloused thumb against your clit makes you shake instead, a tingling rush of heady arousal racing its way up your spine. Smiling down at your awed expression, he lifts his fingers away and uncoils your legs from his waist, flinging them both over his broad shoulders, his knees settling forward as he continues to roughly thrusts his hips forward, driving you quivering body into the soft sheets.

“You like that? Does it feel good? Does it? Fuck baby, I’m begging you, give it to me one more time. Can you do that for me? Can you cum for me? I want you to cum on my dick, ah, come on (Y/N), just once more, that’s all I’m asking. You can do it, can’t you?”

He’s rasping his questions against the shell of your ear, hands cupping at the side of your face, keeping you close as he races toward his own end, voice lifting into a frantic plea as he hurtles closer, desperate to feel your satisfaction rippling around him before he completely looses himself to the aching pleasure of your body.

“I–” you choke out, arms lacing around his back, nails pressing half moons into his skin. He moans at the bite of your touch and tilts your hips upward, seeking more of you.

That change is all it takes.

The tip of his cock presses down, lifts, and then suddenly you’re seeing stars.

“I’m… yes! Oh, fuck. Satoru, just like that. Don’t… don’t stop!” For once, he doesn’t tease. He just smiles, his face flushed, pale cheeks dusted a pleased pink and repeats the motion, careful to keep everything absolutely steady. The repeated push and pull, the warmth of your cunt, the feel of your skin, it’s making his cock throb and his heart race, but he’s determined to see you break.

There. There it is. Fuck, you’re so pretty.

On an outward pull of his hips, your back arches and your thighs tense and he lets out a long growl, quickly breaking his fastidious rhythm and sinking back into you, gasping as you flutter around him. A new flush of wetness leaks out of your cunt and squelches between your pinned legs, dripping over the cleft of your ass.

He only lasts a few extra ruts, but the feel of him swelling and pulsing inside your tender pussy almost topples you over the edge again and you cling to him in the aftermath of his release, your heaving breasts catching against his flat pectorals.

With a quick peck, he slowly lowers your legs and eases himself out of you, blue eyes widening at the sight of his softening hardness leaving your leaking pussy. “I don’t know which I like better,” he contemplates, leaning back on his haunches and slicking his index finger up the pooling dribble you’ve both left behind, spreading the spidery traces across his hand. “You wet and dripping for me or filled to the brim with my cum.” His lewd comment makes you huff out a low groan of exasperation and you roll off of the bed, shaking your head as you steady yourself and walk toward the bathroom.

After a brisk rinse in the shower, you pad back into the darkened room, fully expecting to see an empty bed. You’re not sure why that’s your first thought, but something about Satoru doesn’t scream: I’m the kind of guy who likes post coitus cuddles. So the sight of him, bundled under your sheets, white hair poking just above the edge of the blankets, is a surprise.

“Oh,” you pause, dropping your towel on the floor as you openly gape at him. “You’re still here… I, well, I figured you’d take off.”

“Huh?” Satoru croaks, popping his head up, his face comically askew. “What kinda guy do you think I am?”

“Apparently the kind that stays over,” you snicker, digging around for your discarded bra and panties.

He lets out a mock gasp, popping a hand against his cheek. “How could you say that! And after I gallantly brought you back here?”

“And fucked me,” you remind him, slipping your lacy underwear back on and re-adjusting the clasp of your bra.

“That too!” he qualifies, arching a pale eyebrow at your impassive face. “I’d say I was pretty generous. You did cum twice after all.”

“Oh my God,” you sigh, crossing your arms across your chest and perching beside the edge of the bed, shaking your head at the sprawling man under your covers.

“Come on, you wouldn’t seriously make me walk all the way back to the school at this hour. What if something happens to me? How could you live with yourself, knowing you kicked me out into the cold?”

“It’s summer,” you point out, rolling your eyes. “And you’re… what six foot three… and you have the legendary six eyes… I mean, I think you’ll be ok.”

“(Y/N),” Satoru begins, narrowing those bright blue eyes at you.

“Yeah?”

“Is it your habit to sleep with helpless guys and then kick them out? You’re so cruel.”

“Stop it,” you warn, snatching at the sheets and yanking them off of his naked form.

“No!” he protests, fingers clutching vainly at the thin cover. “Your bed is so nice! Come on, I’ll be good and I don’t snore. Well, not that I know of anyway…”

“Ugh, fine. I don’t have the energy for this and we have to be up in four hours. Just shush and scoot over.”

“Oh? Do you not have the energy because I fucked it out of you?”

“I’m sorry, were you wanting to stay the night?”

“Alright, alright,” he splays his hands up in supplication and makes room for you, watching closely as you curl up beside him, a smile playing over his lips. “Hey,” he asks once you’ve closed your eyes, leaning close to your reposed form.

“What?” you groan, cracking an eye open.

“Can I be the little spoon?”

“Satoru…”

“Mmhm?”

“Shut up.”

notes: hehe. i feel like he’d be so freaking chatty in bed. plus, how could i not make him a little touched starved? stop making me like characters that just wanna be held universe, gosh :3c

#jjk friday #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk smut #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #gojo x reader #gojo x y/n #gojo x you #satoru x reader #satoru x you #satoru x y/n #reader insert #jjk imagines

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kiingocreative · 3 years

Text

The Structure of Story is now available! Check it out on Amazon, via the link in our bio, or at https://kiingo.co/book

Performance coach Tony Robbins says that the quality of our lives depends on the state we live in every moment of every day. That state, whether we’re happy, sad, frustrated or excited, depends on three things:

• Our physiology — the way we move our bodies, the way we breathe and what we do with our face.

• Our language — the words we use, whether spoken out loud or inside our own head, to describe our experiences.

• What we focus on — the things we see versus the things we block out or fail to notice.

Today, I want to zone in on that final piece, because what we focus on is key, and it will in turn affect the way you move your body and hold yourself, and the language you use. I see this play out so much around me in general, and in the writing community in particular.

At any given time, the things we focus on determine how we feel and what we make of a situation. And what we focus on, in turn, is governed by the questions we ask ourselves every moment of every day.

Take your writing journey for instance:

If someone leaves you a negative review, do you ask yourself whether this means you’re a failure and your work is a failure? Do you ask yourself how dare that person belittle your work with a bad review? Or do you ask yourself what you can learn from this? Could you ask yourself how good it is that this person was honest in their feedback, so that readers with similar tastes won’t buy your book—and therefore not spend money on a read they might otherwise dislike and rate negatively too?

See how different questions would illicit different points of focus, and therefore different states? Some are more conducive to a positive mindset, whilst others tend to nurture frustration.

‘Why’ Questions: The Endless Loop.

And so it goes that by asking lousy questions, we get lousy answers. Because our brain has this tendency of taking any request we give it and processing it, regardless of whether or not it’s good for us. It’ll scour through the recesses of our mind and go on and on until it finds an answer.

‘Why’ questions are the worst, because there’s often no clear answer, or more than one possible answer to them, and it sends our mind on a chase to find as many possible reasons, processing like a headless chicken, often going around in circles, leaving us ruminating.

Take our example again: What if you asked yourself ‘why is this person leaving me a bad review?’

Now unleash your brain on that one, and let it roll with it—you may get:

• Because they didn’t like the book.

• Because my book is terrible.

• And if my book is terrible, then that makes me a terrible writer.

• Maybe I should just stop writing.

• Who was I to think I could do this?

• I’m clearly not good enough.

• Or maybe they left a bad review because they’re an idiot and didn’t get the brilliance of my work.

• Clearly they’re a moron.

• Maybe I should track them down and tell them just that.

• Maybe I should rally everyone I know on Instagram to shame that dimwit for leaving that review.

• …

… this can go on, until it loops back to the top and starts again. Sounds familiar?

What kind of state do you think you’d be in from obsessing over those disempowering, angering questions, never able to get closure because the loop has no logical end?

Empowering Alternatives.

My own experience of asking myself lousy questions, and my interactions with others within the writing community, have left me convinced that writers need to start asking themselves more empowering questions.

Because the way we tend to ask questions to ourself—those that breed anger, and resentment, and self doubt—ultimately only bring us back to two fears that sit at the root of it all: the fear that we’re not good enough, and the fear that we won’t be loved (or appreciated, or liked). These fears can be crippling. And that can’t be good for anyone’s art anywhere.

I’m writing this today to give you some more empowering alternatives. Some that I have used along my journey and have helped me improve.

Here are four examples:

#1 — gearing up for success:

• Instead of: ‘Why are other writers so much more successful than I am?’

• Ask yourself: ‘What I can learn from other writers to become more successful myself?’

There’s a lot of comparison out there. We know we shouldn’t fall into the trap of it, but it’s easier said than done.

If you see fellow writers thriving with their writing, their social media strategy or their exposure, try modelling what they do that is working and find what, from that, works for you.

Better even, reach out to people and ask them for advice—most people will be more than happy to share, and it’s a great way to build a network!

#2 — boosting sales:

• Instead of: ‘Why am I not selling books?’

• Ask yourself: ‘What I can do to increase my book sales?’

It can be discouraging to have published something, and to see your sales figures stalling. If you start wallowing in self pity through disempowering ‘why’ questions, you’re bound to start spiralling.

Instead, make a list of what you could do to help your sales along.

Here are some ideas that come to mind:

• Seek out book clubs and put your book on their radar. See if they’d been interested in reading your book and having you for an author Q&A when they’re done reading the book.

• Look into running promotions on Amazon (like discounted eBooks).

• Go local! Reach out to your local community and spread the word (cafes, local bookshops and libraries, local Facebook groups and communities etc.) and give them a chance to support a local.

• Contact your old school or university and enquire about showcasing you and your book as an alumni success story.

• Build genuine connections with fellow writers, avid readers and book bloggers. These relationships are a fantastic way to increase your reach and spreading the word about your book—and as a result, improve sales.

• Offer to do a read and review swap with a fellow author, where you read and review each other’s book.

• And so on.

If you start asking your brain to think outside the box, it’ll do just that!

#3 — the writer’s life:

• Instead of: ‘Why can’t I be a full-time writer and have financial security from writing?’

• Ask yourself: 'How is my present occupation helping my writing?’

• …And then ask: 'What can I do to increase my revenue from writing?’

This is one topic that’s been crossing my mind a lot, and I suspect many of us out there have pondered it at one point or other. If asked the wrong way, this question can send you spiralling into a frustrated state.

I don’t write full-time at present, and I have had my moments of daydreaming hours away, wishing I could live off my craft. That never led to anything very productive.

What I have found helpful however has been to focus on what my day job enables me to do with my writing:

• It takes away the pressure of earning a full income from writing.

• It gives me time to write and experiment with my craft in different forms.

• It enables me to look into ways to monetise my writing at my own pace.

• And that’s made for much more exciting trains of thought!

#4 — social media guru:

• Instead of: ‘Why can’t I manage to grow my Instagram reach?’ Or ‘why is social media sapping my energy?’

• Ask yourself: ‘What can I do to create a healthier balance when it comes to promotion efforts?’

Social media is a tricky one. It has incredible benefits if leveraged the right way, and it’s an amazing tool to get yourself and your work out there. In fact, I recently wrote a piece on the immense value of joining Bookstagram for writers.

But it can also be a drain, because the mechanisms of social media are built on the principle of addiction. It’s literally designed to suck you in and make you crave more, and fear that you’re missing out and not doing enough.

To avoid falling into that vicious circle, I’ve found it much healthier to ask myself how I can find the right balance to achieve what I want with my social media presence whilst also keeping my sanity. What this ends up being will look different for different people. If you’re unsure where to start, think about what you find challenging about maintaining your social media account, then what you find helps with your peace of mind, and try to find a middle ground somewhere in between that meets your needs.

Ask and thou shalt get.

I’m a firm believer in our ability to manifest our reality—at least to some extent. If you focus on all the wrong things, then your reality will look challenging and bleak.

If you train yourself to look for constructive ways forward and to get yourself excited about making the journey smoother for yourself, then finding that sweet spot that works for you can be a fascinating journey.

And that all starts with asking the right questions. Finding the right point of focus. Writing can be a wonderful, yet at times confusing and challenging journey. So do yourself a favour: where possible, take away those mind blocks that stand in your way!

Different questions about your writing journey illicit different points of focus, and therefore different states. Some are more conducive to a positive mindset, whilst others tend to nurture frustration.

#writingtips #screenwriting #creative writing #writers on tumblr #writers #writing #writerblr #writing advice #writing community #writing resources

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slasher-sweetie · 3 years

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Can I requests Asa’s reaction to realizing he has feelings for uuuuh , maybe like one of the students at the school he works at , but not his direct student .

Of course! I hope you like it! ❤

Asa Emory x College Student!Reader

Asa sat at his desk, writing meticulously in his journal as he studied the insect in front of him. He had nearly finished his notes and was on his way to beginning his sketch when there was a knock on the door. With a sigh, Asa lowered his pencil. This had better be important, or whoever was standing on the other side of the door was getting skinned alive. He straightened his pencil and journal so that they were in an even line on his desk.

"Come in," he called clearly, his dark eyes waiting to pierce the form of the person who dared to interrupt his work.

The person who entered might have been one of the most attractive people he had ever seen in his life. Even complexion, stunning bone structure, and bright eyes.

You poked your head in shyly and asked, "Doctor Emory?"

Asa can't muster more than a single nod, "Can I help you?"

You give him a slow, unsure smile, "Uh yes," you walk further into the room, closing the door behind you. You look around momentarily at the thousands of preserved specimens that lined the walls, "I'm Y/n, the new office aide. Ms. Helker told me to bring you your mail."

Asa studied you as you reached out to hand him a few envelopes, waiting long enough for your smile to look forced, and a crinkle to form between your brows before he took them from you. You straightened and gave him a brighter smile, and then your eyes traveled down to the insect on his desk and a gasp left your lips.

"Is.. is that a Royal Goliath beetle?" you ask, subconsciously taking a step closer to the object of your attention.

Asa stifles his shock, he didn't remember you being in any of his classes, so how did you know about Royal Goliath beetles? Most people despised insects. Apparently not you.

You glance up to meet his eyes and give him another nervous smile, "They're my favorite, they're strength is incredible, did you know that they can lift 850 times their own body weight?" you giggle softly, "I mean, of course you do, you're the Professor."

Asa is blown away by your knowledge but doesn't reward you with more than the soft upturn of the corner of his mouth. "Yes, they're extraordinary creatures. If you have such an interest in Entomology, then why aren't you in any of my classes?"

A faint blush dusts over the apples of your cheeks, darkening them, "I was going to, but my schedule is full with my required classes, and as part of my scholarship, I have to help out in the office when I'm in between lectures," you glance over at the clock and gasp, "Excuse me, Dr. Emory, I've gotta run. I have to go and pick up lunch at noon. Have a nice day!"

With those words you were whirling around and exiting the classroom. Asa was taken aback by the abruptness of your departure. As he got back to work, he couldn't shake the lingering image of the way your lips peeled back from your teeth when you smiled. He quite liked the sight.

***

Asa was late. Very late. If he hadn't been up half the night dealing with a particularly stress-inducing new addition to his collection, he wouldn't be rushing through the halls like some sort of buffoon. He glanced at his watch as he quickened his steps, he would NOT be late to his lecture over something so ridiculous. That was his last thought before he walked solidly into another body. Papers went flying, falling to the floor like a January snow, and Asa could feel his temper rising.

His dark eyes focused on the idiot he had collided with, and he could've laughed when he saw it was you, just the person he couldn't get out of his head. He had imagined you as a part of his collection at least a thousand times since the last time you had met, and after this situation, he was fighting back the need to keep you in a cage. You always knew how to aggravate him when he was trying to attend to his business.

Your bright eyes met his, and you looked downright repentant, "Dr. Emory! I'm so sorry. I was rushing to class and I, uh, I wasn't paying attention to where I was going," your lower lip trembled and you looked like you were on the verge of tears.

Asa sighed, and reached down to pull you to your feet, "No harm done, accidents happen." He then began to help you gather your papers that currently littered the hallway. One look at one of them told him it was an essay of some sort, it appeared to be about the impact of gerrymandering in urban areas. He handed you the papers and watched as you sorted through them carefully, putting them in some semblance of order.

You looked up at him again, "I'm so sorry again, Dr. Emory, I should've been paying attention to where I was going."

Asa waved his hand, physically waving off your apology, "No need to be sorry, no harm done."

Your eyes softened, and the smile you gave him caused his breath to hitch ever so slightly. With a small thank you, you left Asa staring after your retreating form in wonder.

The feeling in his stomach mimicked the fluttering of a thousand Painted Lady butterflies, and that was when Asa knew you were dangerous. You had to be a part of his collection, he had to have you, there were absolutely no arguments to be had about it.

As Asa watched you disappear around the corner, he wondered if he could artificially replicate the way your eyes shined.

***

Asa grumbled as he adjusted his tie for the sixth time. Why on earth did he ever agree to come to this boring party for the University's faculty members. The sooner he could leave, the sooner he could work on a new project involving a fascinating subject that he was turning into a Praying Mantis. Asa pivoted to the side, barely saving himself, as a writer walked by with a tray full of champagne glasses. Apparently the alumni had went all out for this soiree.

Asa looked around, taking tentative sips of his champagne. He saw a few of his colleagues from the science department huddled up, laughing. He was about to go and greet them when out of the corner of his eye, he saw you.

You stood there, dressed impeccably, your outfit flattering your figure, drawing Asa's eyes to all of your best assets. You were talking to the Political Science professor, an old man with a bushy white beard who was wearing an awful brown suit. Asa couldn't recall his name, Dr. Franklin maybe? It didn't matter because in that moment you had decided to throw your head back laughing at something the professor said. Your laughter was warm, and sweet, and it was better than the ticking of a Deathwatch beetle which, up until this point, had been Asa's favorite sound. His new favorite thing about you, you, who would be his newest addition to his collection.

Asa started as the record scratch of reality sounded in his head. If you became part of his collection, would you ever laugh like that again? Could you ever laugh like that again? There was no way to force such genuine delight. Asa sighed, draining the rest of his drink.

He'd have to take another path.

***

It was Monday, and Asa knew you'd be by with his mail any time now. He was impatiently waiting, the ticking of the clock grating against his already frayed nerves. He needed to see you. He needed this to work. He wanted to consume your every waking thought as much as you consumed his. He wanted to possess your very being.

As if answering his unspoken prayers, there was a gentle knocking at his door.

Quickly, almost too quickly, Asa jumped out of his seat, "Come in."

You poked your head in, and the mere sight of you was like ice on a burn. He could feel his muscles relaxing. His jaw was unclenching. All within moments of being in your presence.

"Hello, Dr. Emory!" you greeted cheerfully, making your way over to him, "I've got your mail. No beetles today?"

Asa forced a small smile, trying to fight through his obsessive compulsions to take you in his arms and never let you go. "No, not today. How are you?"

You blink at him in surprise, but quickly hide it with a smile, "I'm fine, a little sore from helping my friend move into their new apartment yesterday, but besides that great! How are you doing?"

"I'm well, thank you. Do you like Italian food?" quick, to the point, social interaction had never been Asa's strongest point. He just hoped you'd say yes.

Your smile falls slightly, you had never been more baffled by a person before. Asa rarely ever spoke to you, which hadn't stopped you from forming a crush on him, but now he was making an effort to hold a conversation. How strange.

"Yes, I love Italian food, it's one of my favorites. My grandmother makes the best ravioli."

Good. Good. Things were going according to plan. Asa glances over to the clock on the wall, nearly noon. Lunch time. Get it over with.

"Would you like to accompany me to lunch? Today," Asa clarifies quickly, not letting his inner turmoil show on his face.

Your answering smile was breath-taking, "Of course! I'd love to. Let me just finish delivering the mail, and I'll meet you in the courtyard?"

Asa couldn't help but smile, and nodded in agreement.

You turned to leave and stumbled over your own feet. A chuckle leaves you, and as you reach the door you turn back to look at Asa one more time, giving him another smile.

It's then that Asa realizes that you don't have to be a part of his collection in order to belong to him.

You were already on your way to being his.

#slasher x reader #slashers #slasher x you #asa emory #the collector

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cristalknife · 3 years

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Kadam Week 2021 Day 1 ~ Do You Want To Be A Pirate?

So this is me trying to not start something on a platform only to post solely somewhere else aka AO3 and ff.net you can find the complete list of Kadam Week 2021 prompts and you might find more stories on the Kadam Week 2021 AO3 collection

That said, the fist prompt was Puzzles and Games. And what represents better both than a treasure hunt? So here we go, I present to you Do You Want To Be A Pirate?

All the student body was abuzz, the annual treasure hunt was to be announced soon, it was always a great event. Mainly because the winner of the event earned a full booklet of backstage passes. Sixteen of them, completely blank to be used at the winner discretion during the current theatre season.

No limits were imposed on how the passes were to be used, be in a single show with a large group or even touring all the shows solo. The catch was that if multiple shows were to be watched by a group of two people up, the winner had to be there for each show.

Those booklets were the courtesy of Alumni working in the field. And to be honest it was a fun event for the faculty as well to create the set of riddles and clues needed to reach the destination.

It was supposed to be a moment of fun, but at the same time given the kind of prize, it was not meant to be effortless.

However to the faculty disappointment, the individuals only rule with no cooperation allowed present in the previous editions, resulted in no winners for the past couple of years.

After consulting the sponsor, it was decided that for this year students could sign up as pairs.

But if the students decided to sign up as pair, then both the winners would have to be present each time they were to use the passes.

And apparently that wasn’t a condition that some were comfortable with, while others like Kurt were actually overjoyed.

Once he heard of the treasure hunt, he went out searching for Adam, barely containing his elation and desire to share the news.

Upon finding his boyfriend, Kurt was barely able to contain his excitement and he launched himself into Adam's arm sure he'd be caught.

Adam grinned and kissed Kurt back, holding him securely before saying "Hellu Love, what got you so excited?"

Kurt chuckled and as soon as his feet touched the floor once more he raised the flier and pointed to the fine prints "They mentioned a change in the rules and on this year’s event people can sign up as pairs. The catch is that both need to be present when using the passes, so you're game signing up with me?"

Adam raised an eyebrow curious before reading the flier aloud "The Annual Treasure Hunt? Is that what got you so excited? Except for my freshman year, I don't recall any of those events actually ever having winners"

Erika came up from the side and quipped "Three years ago was the last time someone won, but it was again one of the last seniors graduating. After that batch left, no one ever figured out the clues, I'm surprised the faculty still does it"

Kurt shrugged "Well the prize makes very much sense for the school, I mean blank passes for the backstage of current productions? That sounds interesting, and sixteen of them would actually mean we could all go together as a group and still have two spares for the winning team to get another show, or split between two productions..."

Kurt speech had most of the Apples smiling and send to their favourite freshie an adoring look.

Adam still amazed by his boyfriend asked softly "So you suggest a common effort and register more than one team, and then Apples parties at my place, where we could all chill out and talk about our days?"

JJ quipped up "Only if that involved baked goods from both our favourite bakers, because Adam ma man, I love your cookies but gimme Kurt's casserole and salty cupcakes any time, and I could even fight you off and offer my hand in marriage for having those every day"

Kurt snorted and swatted away playfully JJ's offered hand "You are not even remotely bi-curious, If I wanted to live with an overgrown kid who'd stay with me for my cooking I'd simply invite my brother to move in with me"

Everyone around chuckled at that and JJ pouted mockingly offended "Are you insinuating I'm not man enough for you?"

Adam then stepped in smirking "More like implying that all the main male leads in his life are already cast, and you dear friend can only be the occasional torn in our butt, one that comes every now and then to offer his company in exchange for delicious food..."

Grinning like a cheshire cat JJ quipped back "Well we all know that the good ones are all gay, unavailable or happily being both together"

Everyone broke down in giggles and with resolute nods each claimed a partner. The divide and conquer idea Kurt had was very intriguing, and the thought of getting the upper hand on an event that even the Perks couldn't get their way by popularity alone, or that no one else won for the past couple of years had its allure…

Especially given the mixed composition of techies and performers in their group.

Seeing Kurt smiling radiantly was something each member of the Apples enjoyed and cherished.

Especially since the big fallout, or as it was known amongst them, the great purge of the toxic influx in Kurt's life.

Also known as the day when Miss fallen out Diva Berry left the loft in a huff and Kurt and his roommate Santana took the storming out literally and changed the key of the padlock.

Sending all of Berry’s stuff back to the temporary storage place two blocks away from bushwick, with a 3 days grace period and a week paid with Berry's part of the deposit.

Kurt himself was just very happy to be surrounded by friends who supported him as much as he supported them.

Being with Adam and being friends with all the members of the Adam's Apples, had given him a perspective he never knew he desperately needed, and it also lowered his tolerance for taking crap by those who were supposed to be on his side.

Kurt was not secretly very excited by the prospect of looking forward to something in his life that could be just fun and despite being officially a competition. He was still able to live it as an adventure, to be shared with his boyfriend and all their friends as well.

As they walked away from the registration boot and reading the first clue ‘Every adventure needs a captain to sail for the treasure island’

Kurt giggle when Adam playfully whispered in his ear "Aye aye captain let's get our sea legs on"

Kurt nodded and they made it to the costume department through the back corridors, not wanting to tip off the other not Apples participants, while their friends instead received simply a gentle reminded in their text chat, that all hearties were to meet at rehearsal later in the week same place same time.

Indeed their guess was correct when they found the next clue stating ‘Never forget those who came before you’

Kurt and Adam took the chance to grab a quick lunch as they discussed the clue. Adam was the first one to attempt to solve it "If we are thinking about the school that would send us to the hall of fame"

Kurt nodded slowly but tapped his finger against his lips "But what if it's a more general outlook? We are learning to get into an industry that broadens beyond the limits of the school and its social circles, even if those are still important"

Adam hummed softly mulling over it "So you're suggesting more like the library?"

Kurt nodded "I'm just unsure whether we are supposed to search in the history section itself or go more for the history of Broadway and theatre section"

Adam nodded slowly "there's no rule about not searching blindly both"

Kurt chuckled and nodded as well, after finishing his cup he raised an eyebrow in silent question and received a simple nod in response.

Once in the library, Adam was the one to take over the history of Broadway and the theatre section while Kurt went through the History books.

It took a while but finally Adam was successful and found a piece of plasticised parchment with what appeared half of the final clue.

The mention of a second half made him frown, but with nothing else to be found there, he simply took a picture of it with his phone.

He then placed the clue back inside the book and the book back on the shelf before going to find Kurt, hoping his got lucky and found the second half.

"Did you get anything?"

Kurt shook his head a little put off "No absolutely nothing, you?"

Adam nodded "Yeah I found something but it's only half of the final clue"

Kurt frowned confused "Guess it's time to start some baking then hmmm?"

Adam smiled and leaned forward to give Kurt a small peck on his cheek trying to stop the frowning "We could do directly at my place and then make an evening out of it"

The offer, as Adam hoped, brought a smile on Kurt's face as he replied coyly "I'd love that, are you offering just the evening or it could turn into a sleepover"

Adam grinned and moved so that he could kiss those cheeky lips, when he was almost where he wanted to be, he breathed quickly "We'll swing by the loft if there's something you absolutely need for tomorrow classes"

He then proceeded to thoroughly kiss his boyfriend.

After classes ended for the day, Kurt sent a message to their chat group informing everyone that it was baking time in the afternoon

Adam raised an eyebrow curiously at the message and Kurt shrugged stating simply "That way we can be sure basically everyone will show up with something to contribute, just before or around dinner time, and then the meeting will become a movie night"

Adam snorted because indeed knowing their friends that was what would most likely happen, "It wasn't exactly what I had in mind when I offered to make an evening out of it darling"

Kurt grinned, mischief gleaming clearly in his eyes "That's why I raised your offer to a sleepover instead..."

And true to Kurt's expectations, that evening all the Apples who didn't have to work, appeared at Adam's doorstep with offerings for the shared evening meal.

Of course those who had worked demanded a do-over with double baked goodies of their faves as personal share...

Once everyone was seated around, Paul, who paired up with JJ for the treasure hunt, asked "How was your hunt we've only found half of the final clue"

Kurt wrinkled his nose "we reached only half of the final clue as well care to see if we've all found the same half or if we lucked out?"

Adam took off his phone and started to read aloud "Congratulation adventurers, you're holding half of the treasure map holding the clue for the final answer you will have to give to someone to receive your treasure, think back on the steps you took to find this and then go and find the last missing piece"

JJ jumped up from his seat exclaiming excitedly "Yes we've got both!"

Paul shook his head smiling and took off his own phone reading "Congratulation adventurers, you're holding half of the treasure map holding the clue to figure out who is the officer that you'll need to impress with the answer that you still need to find to receive your treasure, think back on the steps you took to find this and then go and find the last missing piece"

Everyone was suddenly buzzing with unrestrained excitement when Kurt asked pragmatically "So how are we going to tackle this? Reading both clues together and then split between them or focusing the attention on a single one?"

Adam suggested swiftly "We could actually read them both and then see how to tackle the easier one first"

When everyone nodded Paul continued reading their clue "You might go to Central Park Or catch a show on Broadway... Where in the world would you be to get to these by subway? Twice... I mean the answer is New York clearly but how does that help us identify who to give our final answer to?"

General groaning raised from around the room when Erika cut in "Adam what is your clue?"

Adam complied and read it for everyone perusal "What show is next in this pattern: A Chorus Line, Into the Woods, Bat Boy, Pacific Overtures, Little Women, Damn Yankees, Camelot, The Pajama Game, Children of Eden. As a hint, there is more than one show that correctly works, but one show fits more ‘perfectly’ than any others.”

Adam raised his phone to let everyone seeing the picture and commented

“As a side note there's only one blank line but its length doesn't seem indicative as it was formatted to look good rather than give a hint on the last name, or at least that’s what it looks like to me"

And everyone had to nod at that consideration at that point Chris' groan was the loudest "I don't get yall, neither of those is any more clear than mat moss paint..."

Kurt sniggered but offered a plate with Chris' favourite cookies on it "It's ok, we can work it out together so any ideas?"

Matt who had been quiet this far asked Kurt speculatively "You already have an idea for at least one of them don't you?"

Kurt looked taken aback and blushed getting himself busy with the food "Nothing solid.."

At that point Adam walked behind Kurt and wrapped his arms around Kurt's waist as he pressed himself against his boyfriend "It's ok Love, you don't have to be right to speak your mind, we are here brainstorming there's no judging with us"

JJ quipped teasingly "I mean we'll obviously judge and tease you till the end of times for getting flustered the first time we took you out for blow jobs, but for this… I mean you're all going to hearing the suggestion my gorilla brain comes up with"

Chris snorted and quipped teasingly "Given what gets spawned out of your mouth I thought you would have said instead that yours is like a pig’s brain."

Matt joined in to the teasing, shaking his head as he grinned salaciously and wiggling his eyebrows "Nah a pig's brain is too big we are talking mouse if everything is in proportion."

Kurt coughed at the double meaning implied in that sentence, he feared JJ would take it badly. But he was once again surprised when JJ put theatrically one hand on his cheek, the other on his chest clearly mimicking a delightful surprise "Oh Matt, my darling why didn't you said that before… All this time you were checking me out because you wanted some of my sweet sweet love, comma hear lemme give ya some sugar baby"

Everyone erupted in laugher and Matt maturely threw his napkin aiming for JJ's face "You wish man, you wish"

JJ pouted "Harsh dude, harsh, you could have at least throw your cupcake with the napkin"

Kurt sent a levelled glare to both boys "If anyone dares to throw our delicious baked food not only they will stay for the cleanup, but they will be banned to get more baked goodies for the next month"

A single "Ouch" escaped Matt's lips before he silenced himself and raised his arms in surrender.

Paul swatted the back of JJ's head "Don't upset daddy, or I'm so going to gag you next time we are all in the same room to prevent that from happening, I rather enjoy our baked goodies"

Erika quipped at Paul "Which is why you shouldn't save JJ from himself, let him dig his own grave, more goodies for us... Kurt had not said anything about lowering the amount of baked goodies, only put a ban on who can access them"

Chris chuckled and offered their fist to Erika, as they said grinning "Well said girl well said"

Erika smiled brilliantly and bumped the fist and then both made an explosion motion as they both retreated their arms.

Kurt raised an eyebrow at being addressed as daddy, but Adam just held him a little closer and mouthed later.

So Kurt took the handle of the situation and started sharing his idea hoping for the current teasing to come to a natural rest "well I was thinking on Paul and JJ's clue... What if we need to take that final twice literally? As in the correct answer is New York, New York"

Erika's eyes shone brighter "Like the Scorsese's movie?"

Kurt nodded "Yes that's also the name of the most known song from that movie, so New York New York could be the solution"

Paul pondered and then said "Well if we are talking about a movie would that mean that we are to talk with the dean of the drama department?"

Kurt bit his lips and then he continued explaining his thoughts "I was thinking more about the fact it might refer to the song, which then in turn would make Madam T be the one to speak with, given that she's the dean of vocal performance. And with the movie being also a musical maybe the singing component is more pronounced and would lead to her instead of Mr Keller?"

Adam then said serenely "Once we figure out the answer we could even decide to split and each team going to both of them with the solution."

Murmurs of agreement run through the room until Matt stated "So now we just have to figure out what that list of musicals have in common?"

JJ scratched his head before raising and grabbing few more cupcakes to munch on "Do you think that the fact they cross two centuries means anything?"

Chris promptly opened Adam's computer and pulled up the wikipedia pages of all the listed musicals before shaking their head "Nope they are not in chronological order so it’s not that"

Paul then quipped "And that wouldn't make any sense, the additional hint says that there's only one answer that would fit perfectly... it's not like there's only one new musical coming out every single year"

Erika asked then "I am not familiar with all the titles but are they really all musicals?"

Adam answered "Yeah all of those listed are musicals, so maybe we need to check on the songs?"

Matt then wondered aloud "What if it's something all the songs have? Maybe there's a matching title or a recurring theme?"

Kurt took out his phone and looked around and said "well there's seven of us and nine titles maybe we could each open the list and check them side by side?"

JJ grinned and took out his phone as well "That's a great idea"

Kurt started listing all the songs of chorus line, Matt went on with the ones from into the woods, JJ giggled like a maniac as he read the bat boy's list. Paul read on the Pacific Overtures and Erika listed the ones from Little Women.

When Adam, who was reading from the Damn Yankees, reached the song titled Six months, Chris exclaimed excited while raising a finger silently asking for a moment "Holy moley I think we got something going here"

Everyone turned, waiting for more explanation that Chris promptly provided "Each of those musicals has a song with a number in their titles" and then they pointed to Kurt who quickly caught up and said "One" and then each proceeded in order Matt said "It takes two", JJ said excited "Three Bedroom House "

Paul grinned starting to see the path as he said "Four Black Dragons"

Erika was grinning madly as she said "Five forever"

Then JJ still super hyped by having discovered the key to decode the clue he asked Chris "So what are the others?"

Chris smirked and started prattling "In Camelot we have ‘The Seven Deadly Virtues’, The Pajama Game has a song called ‘7½ Cents’ while the Children of Eden has ‘A Piece of Eight’”

Kurt hummed softly and considered aloud "So we have nine musicals mentioned but the last number is eight... What if they had already given us the answer and it's literally Nine?"

Adam whistled impressed "That actually makes so much sense..."

Paul groaned "And if you explain it like that it seems so obvious too"

Erika shrugged "All riddles once explained make so much sense that you usually feel stupid for not reasoning it out before... That's why they are considered brain teasers"

Chris who in the meantime checked out Kurt's suggestion finally quipped triumphantly "That's it guys, we have a winner the answer is indeed Nine, which has a song called guess what?”

Chuckling everyone said at once “Nine"

JJ then scratched his head and then asked "So now we are only unsure on who we need to tell our answer to?"

Paul quipped happily “Me says Adam and Kurt follow Kurt’s reasoning, we follow ours, that way if our suspicion is correct and Kurt is right it’ll be them and not us having a private date… No offence man but I’d really prefer not having my girlfriend gutting me for going out on a date with you”

JJ snorted before sounding almost genuinely upset “Harsh man, harsh”

Paul patted JJ shoulder when Kurt asked confused “But what about the others?”

Matt answered smiling “Kurt you four are the only ones who got to the final clue, I personally wouldn’t like to try to get the prize knowing I barely got to the second one.”

Chris and Erika nodded as well confirming they felt the same way.

Kurt felt relieved that he wasn’t taking advantage of his friends. With everything sorted out, everyone else left leaving just Kurt and Adam alone.

After they settled down Kurt turned to Adam, with a questioning look on his face before asking “Is now later? Do I get to know what the daddy comment was about?”

Adam chuckled softly “Nothing bad Love, I can assure you that, you know that I’m considered the mother hen of the group right?”

Kurt hummed softly nodding as he snuggled closer to Adam who then continued “And well you’re too sweet and kind to all the Apples to be considered a father, but still we are together and we both tend to take care of them so…”

Kurt chuckled and finished shaking his head “So I’m daddy… Not sure how to feel about having so many kids that are all older than me”

They both sniggered at that.

The next day, when they went talking with Madam Tibideaux, they discovered that indeed Kurt’s reasoning was correct, and they got out of her office with the prize and matching grins. ~The End~

#kadam week 2021 #kadam fic #kadam #glee #glee prompts filling #my kadam fic #my glee fic #treasure hunting #riddles #long post #it's a fic what did you expect #my writing is not suited for tumblr #~3.8K words of story #I tried my best formatting it #vcg73

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thaonos · 3 years

Text

clear the slate and start over

book: foreign affairs

part: 1 of ?

word count: 3372

As the jet flew above the renown Vancross Institute, Joey couldn't help but contemplate the implications of her arrival. Her brain racked over the countless possibilities her new life could bring. Until now, all she had ever known was certainty. As the First Daughter of Rutherland, Joey's days were meticulously planned out from the second the sun rose to the moment whatever photo op she was to attend that night concluded. Every day was micromanaged by her mother, to say the least.

She wasn't ungrateful. She wasn't. There are worse ways to live. It wasn't as if she didn't enjoy the opulence and riches that came with being the president's daughter and a generally well-known public figure. She's had two terms to grow accustomed to her new life in the public eye. Joey would say she's done well for herself thus far.

Are there nights where she lays in bed, replaying lost memories with her friends back in the city? Does it hurt not remembering the person she was before a world full of flashing lights and cameras? Haven't two terms of presidency weathered down whatever relationship she and her mom might have had after her father passed away? Joey tries not to dwell on it.

"Josephine, we'll be landing soon." Winston, her mother's advisor and close friend, strolled down the aisle. He had momentarily cut off his conversation with someone over the phone to address the blonde. "Melissa won't be able to make it, regrettably. She had to schedule a last-minute meeting with an ambassador."

Joey stiffened. Although her mother wasn't winning any Mother of the Year awards any time soon, it always stung whenever she brushed her off. "This master's program was her idea. She couldn't find the time to see her own daughter off?"

For a moment the air between them consisted only of the animated babbling from Winston's phone. The poor assistant—she's assuming, it wasn't in Winston's nature to ignore important calls—hadn't even realized Winston's attentions were elsewhere.

"I could have helped her with the campaign, you know. Prove to her that I'd be a valuable asset outside of just parading around pretending to be some trophy child. She never even considered that," she finished.

The sympathetic look that she was so familiar with now adorned the advisor's features. "Josephine, she'll find a way to repay you. I'm positive she is as unhappy about this as you are. She's your mother, she loves you."

"Correction. She's the president first, my mother second. Maybe not even second."

"It's not that simple, Josephine."

"I never said it was." Joey deadpanned.

With that, she turned away from her mother's advisor and stared back out the window. Always the observant type, Winston took the hint and walked away to attend to his call. Hearing the footsteps fade into silence as he walked towards the cockpit, Joey cast her eyes down towards the school again. Only now were they about to pass by the school completely. Joey had to admit Vancross was impressive. The institute bested every Rutherlandian university in size, no doubt. Its alumni boasted some of the most influential people and leaders in the world. Vancross offered the best education money could afford. Not to mention, its stellar reputation spoke volumes. Her mother had been overjoyed during the phone call the previous night. Supposedly, Joey's rumored enrollment at Vancross boosted her approval rating by a respectable margin.

Joey flinched at the intrusive memory. The campaign and her mother was dead last on the list of things she wanted to think about. She forced her thoughts away from politics and focused on her observations earlier. She had seen many students in the beautiful pavilion outside a large, contemporary structure. There were people playing frisbee, students scattered around making use of the many benches and tables around campus, residents walking to their dorms. There were friends laughing at stupid joke one of them had said. There were couples sitting next to each other, each lost in their own world studying. Grandeur aside, the sight reminded Joey of any other university she had visited. It was hard to believe that half of them were the sons and daughters of some of the most powerful people alive. They were proof that, if she tried hard enough, maybe she could pretend to be normal too.

A wistful glaze overtook Joey's eyes as a ding signaling the plane's landing rang out through the cabin. Vancross was an opportunity to start fresh, away from the prying eyes of the media. She could find or reinvent herself again. Everything was about to change; she could feel it. Her mind strayed back to the conversation she had with Winston.

Well, not everything.

Moments later, the plane touched down. Winston appeared by her side the instant it came to a stop. He wasted no time, already spouting out today's agenda. "Josephine, the car will arrive any second now. Your new head of security is running a bit late, so we've arranged for him to meet us at Vancross instead. Fair warning, the gates are already swarming with paparazzi. Your arrival may be the only thing our people talk about for the next week or so."

That caught Joey's attention. "Why's that? Vancross has no shortage of politicians and monarchs. I heard the Prince of Ulmeria attended only a few years ago. How am I any different from the other students?"

Winston narrowed his eyes. "Josephine, it would do you some good to be more aware sometimes. All eyes are on you right now. The Peace Summit will be here in the blink of an eye, and it doesn't take a genius to piece together why your mother wanted to send you to Vancross in the first place. These are your metaphorical baby steps in the world of politics. Not to mention, your actions at Vancross could make or break the reelection campaign. Before this, only one other president has served more than two terms. Your mother is about to be the first woman to do so." He made a show of mulling over something internally. "Also, there are two princes of Ulmeria."

"No pressure at all. You're really killing it in the motivational speech department, Winston." Joey deadpanned, rolling her blazer on. "I don't understand what me attending Vancross has anything to do with my mother, though. It's not like me failing my World History exam is symbolic of my mother's inability to deliver tax cuts."

The sound of a car horn could be heard from outside. Winston shouldered Joey's backpack, stepping aside so she could move into the aisle. "That may be so, but politics are tricky. People see you as a reflection of your mother. Not to mention, I wouldn't be so hasty to dismiss the notion. You could follow your mother's footsteps one day."

Joey started down the aisle, closely followed by Winston. "That'll be the day, Winston. That'll be the day."

As they reached the steps and walked towards the car waiting outside, Joey let her curiosity get the better of her. "Winston." The gray-haired man hummed, reaching the vehicle first and opening the door for her. Once she and Winston settled into the limousine, she continued. "You mentioned my mother meets with an ambassador today. Do you happen to know which country sent him?"

Confusion etched onto Winston's face from her sudden interest in Rutherland's diplomatic affairs. He quickly schooled his expression. "Truth be told, I'm not too sure. She mentioned the border skirmishes, so my best guess would be an Ardonian representative." Winston nodded affirmatively to himself. "Yes, that sounds about right. She would have been here if she could."

The strawberry blonde shrugged, picking at the hem of her navy-blue skirt. Truth be told, she hated wearing skirts or short dresses. She felt exposed enough in public. "Don't get my hopes up, Winston." Although she had meant it as a joke, this earned another decisive nod from the older man.

Eager to change the subject, Winston whipped out a notepad and flipped to his notes without even fumbling for the correct page. "I strongly advise you brush up on your knowledge of foreign affairs. Several other countries are sending their own delegates this year. We have it on good authority that Drivosa, Esherstein, Ithanstan, Naporvie, Pavadena, and Ulmeria are sending representatives. Your head of security should have more information on each of them."

The younger woman's brows furrowed. "That's every country in western Europe minus Ardona—not that there are any complaints there, of course. That would be a public relations disaster."

"The task may appear daunting, but this does work in our favor. You're already aware that this is a purely diplomatic move. Their support is essential in moving forward with the Ardonian Accords. Most of Western European Alliance—such as Esherstein and Ithanstan—seem to support your mother in welcoming Ardona and their allies into WEA, but there are people out there who would stop at nothing to prevent Ardona and the rest of the Eastern Powers from joining the union," he hesitated, unsure whether or not he should continue. "Especially after..."

"The war?" Joey finished.

"No." The advisor spared a hasty glance up at the partition. His voice dropped slightly. "The nature surrounding your father's death."

A flicker of emotion briefly passed over Joey's features before she adopted a blank expression. "I see. Which countries are not in support of the Ardonian Accords?" She trained her eyes forward, trying to focus on the conversation at hand. After all, it had been years. She had a duty to fulfill right now.

If Winston had noticed her behavior, he didn't let on.

"For starters, Ardona is only begrudgingly entertaining the idea. They're not happy about being practically forced into a peace treaty. This shouldn't be a problem, though. The prime minister knows what's best for Ardona. Drivosa is still upset about the humiliating loss they suffered in the Battle of Trinket Hill. You may have heard that Pavadena isn't a fan of the Ardonian Accords either. King Serrano was fond of Bleu." At the sound of her father's name. Joey's right hand clenched into a fist around the fabric of her skirt. "Luckily, Ulmeria seems to be cooperative. Prince Philip is eager to forge ahead."

The conversation died as the car lurched onto campus grounds. Joey took a glance at the flashing lights outside of the window and exhaled slowly, preparing herself. Her right hand slowly relaxed its grip. Next to her, Winston threw his notepad into his briefcase and shoved outside into the eager crowd. This routine was one of secondhand nature to the both of them at this point. Joey fixed her hair and adjusted her clothing in the few seconds she had before the door opened. She blindly grabs the strap of her backpack and turns towards the door in the same moment Winston pulls it open. Agents Demarco and Pierre are already keeping the photographers at bay.

"Josephine!" An obnoxious reporter jammed a microphone into her face. "Mike Williams with Stalker Media. Any comments on the Peace Summit looming over us? What does the Rutherland presidency think of the Ardona-Esherstein border clashes?"

Josephine rolled her eyes. Stalker Media might be one of the trashiest news outlets out there. At least the piece about Esherstein's First Son drunkenly crashing that gala the other night was interesting to read about. She was in attendance that night and had nearly choked on her drink when Alexei Vukoja drunkenly strolled in, a horde of cows trailing behind him. She'd have to ask Alexei where he found them.

Demarco pushed the microphone away and the two guards started paving the way towards the gates for Josephine. Seconds passed, and the voices began to blend as she tried to focus on the different media outlets vying for her attention.

"Josephine, over here! Smile, honey." Josephine gave the reporter forced grin as a flash went off. She turned away.

"Miss Fils-Aime! Did you see Lewis Wright's new campaign video? It's good stuff, he might just give your mother a run for her money." She shrugged innocently.

"Josephine! Josephine! Does your enrollment have anything to do with your mom's worsening approval ratings?" She avoided eye contact with that particular paparazzo.

She could see the gates by now. A few more steps separated her and freedom. Just as relief began to flood her system, another question rang out.

"Josephine, we were interrupted earlier! Do you have a moment to discuss the implications of the Ardonian Accords? Why is your mother trying to push for an alliance with Ardona given your father's assassination?"

At that, she couldn't help but whirl around, jaw clenched. She found herself face to face with the first reporter. Mark, if she recalled correctly. He had a smug smirk on his face, knowing she had taken his bait. "Why is she welcoming your rival, who your people believe is responsible for her husband's death, with open arms?"

Josephine opened her mouth to respond. Before she could make a fool of herself in front of the cameras, Winston gently turned her around and guided her towards the gates. "Really? Nothing to say, even about Ardona sending a representative this year as well?"

Joey frowned. Still walking, she looked to Winston for answers. "You didn't mention an Ardonian delegate," she whispered.

"Our intelligence indicated they wouldn't be sending anyone this year. Hopefully your new head of security will be more on top of things," He murmured in a clipped tone.

As the group crossed the gates, Joey was taken back by the contrast in atmosphere. Outside, it was suffocating. Between the cameras being shoved into your face and excessive badgering by the press, it was difficult to even hear your own thoughts. Inside, there was none of that. The tranquility made her teary-eyed. She thinks she may even hear birds. Winston quietly excused himself from the group as they reached the quad, leaving Demarco and Pierre to escort her to her room. Shortly after, the three of them reached the doorstep of her new living space for the next few years.

As the door swung open, Joey let out a small whistle. The dorm was spacious. The homey furniture made the room vibrant yet intimate. Vancross was treating her nicely. She walked in, nearly bumping into the luggage her team had dropped off a few minutes prior to her arrival. Joey slowly took in the sight of the dorm, the corner of her mouth quirking up.

With a toothy grin on her face, she triumphantly turned towards her guards. "This place makes the State Manor look quaint! Jealous, are you?"

The agents cracked a smile at her teasing. They'd worked for her family long enough to recognize that Joey struggled to enjoy herself, even in private. The First Daughter of Rutherland could afford many luxuries but being able to have fun wasn't one of them. They've learned to appreciate the young woman's refreshing personality on the rare occasion she permitted herself to be authentic and carefree.

Demarco's mouth moved to retort back, but a silvery voice rang out instead. "Almost makes you feel like royalty, huh?"

All heads turned towards the bedrooms. A young brunette stepped out from one of the rooms, planked by a burly man. "Of course, I actually am royalty, but all the dorms are this nice. I'm trying not to take it as an insult. You must be the roommate." She extended a hand. "Princess Dionne Mariana Regina Dorada de Rothschild Serrano of the Kingdom of Pavadena. This walking protein shake ad is my bodyguard Murphy."

Joey took her newfound acquaintance's hand, her easygoing smile softening into something less genuine. "Josephine Fils-Aime of the... country of Rutherland? I'm afraid those are all the names I have. I prefer Joey, though. Not sure that helps my case."

Dionne gave a dismissive wave. "Names are overrated, anyways. Luckily for you, I only go by Princess Dionne. For my new best friend, I'll accept just Dionne."

Dionne plopped down onto the couch, gesturing for Joey to join her. "Since we'll be spending an insufferable amount of time together, I thought we could get to know each other. Any dirty family secrets? Long lost half-siblings? Oh, I know! Did your first pet goldfish die as a direct consequence of your neglect and you have never been able to love anyone since?"

"As if any family secret could be kept out of the public eye for this long. Don't think I have any half-siblings, but you'll be the first to know if I find out otherwise. His name was Hugo and I took great care of him, thank you very much," Joey smiled as she received rolling eyes in response. "My mom thought it would be a great idea for me to enroll in the master's program here. She hopes I'll have some epiphany and realize I've always wanted to follow in her footsteps one day. At least I have some time away from the public. It's been a while since that was the case."

Dionne gave her a quizzical look. "I'd figure. You really sell the whole 'perfect First Daughter' image, you know. My parents always gush about how great you are with handling your image and reputation. I'd go insane if I attended the number of galas, conferences, or state dinners you do."

"I try," Joey shrugged, sudden insecurity clouding her features. She glanced around, noticing her agents' disappearance. She briefly wondered when they had slipped out without her knowing.

Dionne took note of the shift in the First Daughter's tone, rushing to amend her statement. "Not that it's a bad thing! It's admirable you're so supportive of your mom and her presidency. You hold your own against the press well, too."

Judging by the lack of change in Joey's expression, Dionne was unsuccessful. Seeing as Joey didn't seem like she was going to respond, the princess pursed her lips and continued.

"Have you taken a tour around campus?"

The Rutherlandian shook her head.

Her roommate clapped her hands together and jumped up. "It's decided, then. I'll show you around! Let me go get dressed."

"You weren't already...?" Joey trailed off as Dionne jogged to her bedroom, locking the door behind her. "...Dressed?"

Silence filled the dorm as Joey awkwardly sat there, awaiting the return of her eccentric princess roommate. Then she heard shouting outside. From the volume, she figured it was distant. Near the gates. If she was a betting woman, she'd guess another high-profile student just arrived. Curiosity peaked, she walked towards the window. She had to strain her neck a little to find the entrance, but as soon as she did, a brown-haired girl strutted through the gates.

Without turning back, the newcomer raised a middle finger towards the paparazzi as she walked away. Joey's eyebrows rose as her gaze traveled down to her ripped jeans and solid maroon blouse. As if her behavior wasn't scandalous enough, her casual attire was a bold statement in itself. Something in Joey lurched forward, drawn towards the woman with an attitude.

As the woman drew closer, Joey's breath hitched. From afar, it was easy to mistake her for anyone else. Although it had been a while since she had seen Blaine Hayes, there was no mistaking those striking green eyes up close. The last she's seen a picture of her counterpart was when Blaine was in grade school sporting a dorky haircut and neon pink braces. Time had treated her well, and, Joey had to hand it to her, those braces definitely worked. The woman she was openly gaping at now was refined, beautiful even. As Blaine and her security detail made their way towards a different building, Joey's eyes trailed the group across campus in disbelief. She must be seeing things.

"There's no way that's..." She began, mumbling to herself. She trailed off as the waving of a flag caught her eye. A fleeting glance at the top of the black vehicle pulling out of the lot confirmed her suspicions.

There was no universe in which Joey wouldn't recognize that sea green and gold striped Ardonian flag, floating mockingly around in the air.

#fic #choices #choices stories you play #foreign affairs #f!mc #f!blaine #pretty much foreign affairs rewritten #chapter 1 #playchoices

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priorireverte · 3 years

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Congratulations Ash!

Your application for Harry Potter has been accepted. I think we’re all really excited to have such a central, pivotal character in plan. Not just me in my entirely biased excitement for Lily to have her son around. Make sure to let us know if/when you settle on a faceclaim for him.

Please look to the checklist for the next steps and reach out if you have any questions!

OUT OF CHARACTER

NAME & PRONOUNS: Ash & She/her

TIMEZONE: est

ACTIVITY LEVEL: On average, I tend to get online every other day to get through my replies. Although weekends I’ll usually be on daily.

ANYTHING ELSE: Experience - I have been in the Harry Potter rp community for almost ten years now, and have been doing so on Tumblr for about six.

CHARACTER DETAILS:

NAME: Harry James Potter

BIRTHDATE: 31 July ,1980 Zodiac - Leo. Starting with the obvious, let’s put the Leo in Gryffindor, I see what you did there sorting hat. Harry spent his entire life from the young age of eleven, thrown into the spotlight. Others were interested in him for things outside of his control as long as he could remember, but he’s embraced that attention and put it to good use. He is very compassionate and caring, going out of his way to help others around him. His pride can get in the way at times, and tied with the ability to hold a grudge Harry has a sense of there’s my way and the wrong way. Respect from those he most admires is vital to him. He had spent days obsessing over why Dumbledore hadn’t shared their similarities with him, and has never felt a sense of pride as strong as when McGonagall stood up for him to Umbridge. Harry is a leader, the type of person everyone around him looks towards for the answers to their largest problems.

GENDER, PRONOUNS, and SEXUALITY: Gender and pronouns do not have much meaning to Harry, even though he had grown up with his entire identity being centered around his title as ‘Boy Who Lived’. He has never necessarily felt a connection to this title, but has not thought about it anyplace outside of logistically knowing when someone shouts for ‘the boy’ that can mean him. Harry’s Bisexuality however, is something he has been learning to embrace after years of confusion. His Uncle Vernon of course had a few select words for people who liked the same gender, but outside of pushing away the nerves in his stomach whenever he had to listen to his relatives derogatory language he had not realized that being attracted to multiple genders was an option. Harry has has dated during his teen years; He went on dates to the Yule Ball and Hogsmede, as well as his former relationship with Ginny, but he always felt slightly behind his peers in terms of sexuality and maturation. He assumes it was the fact that he spent so much time feeling unsafe and afraid that he didn’t have the time to explore those feelings, but there was also so many things he simply didn’t know that he is only just learning now in the start of his twenties. BLOOD STATUS: Halfblood. Harry’s status as a halfblood may have been the deciding factor in the course of his entire young life if Dumbeldore’s theories were to be correct, and they usually were. Harry and Tom Riddle shared this trait, both half-blooded wizards and in the end it seemed to have been a deciding factor in Riddle’s choice to mark Harry as the chosen one to become his own equal. However another similarity they share is how out of place they had felt in the muggle world and the strong sense of home the Hogwarts walls had provided both. Harry has no prejudice against those of muggle blood, one of his best friends is muggleborn thank you very much, but he has no connection to the muggles who raised him and were supposed to have been his family.

HOUSE ALUMNI: Gryffindor - While he strongly believes it was begging that landed him in red and gold, Harry is very much a Gryffindor. Being brave doesn’t mean never being scared, it’s what you do when faced with fear and Harry has stood up to nearly every terrifying challenge sent his way. He needed that house, as much as he also fit in. Harry grew up the one who was going to end a war, being surrounded by other brave, chivalrous people helped him greatly obtain his own confidence to do what he needed.

OCCUPATION: Harry Potter’s refusal to join the Auror Department sparked quite the buzz once he had finally made the announcement, and the decision had absolutely been one he had not taken lightly in the slightest, but at the end of the day Harry’s fear and distrust in the Ministry won out over his need to constantly swoop in and save the day. That doesn’t mean he hadn’t helped with the effort, he spent the first year out after the war off to help with trials and giving the right information to people who needed it, but after years of being branded a liar he simply couldn’t bring himself to work for the same Ministry who endangered lives by refusing to see what was right in front of them. Instead Harry went home, to the one place that he had always felt he belonged and once again did the impossible. Harry Potter has been the Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor at Hogwarts for two whole years.

FACECLAIM: tbd

CHARACTER BACKGROUND

POSTBELLUM

While he had not been given the instructions to die at the hands of Voldemort until he had been seventeen and only moments away from walking towards his own murder, after seven years of nothing but waiting for the next fight a part of Harry had assumed from a young age one of them was going to have to ultimately kill the other in the end. The lead up to a final showdown at the end of each school year had been convenient, and while he refused to accept the thought, likely planned out to go that way by a certain headmaster, but it couldn’t have continued on forever. So Harry had never allowed himself to think of a life after the fall of Voldemort, or of happiness and family and one day growing old. He was nothing more than a soldier, a child so deprived of affection he put everything he had into fighting back for the approval of his Professor and put little value on his life outside of being the Chosen One, so the first year following the war was especially hard. From the second he had entered the magical world he had been ‘The Boy Who Lived’. Since the age of eleven years old he had been expected to fight the dark wizards and save the day and he did not know how to be anything else. Harry couldn’t see his value outside of his willingness to jump to the occasion and solve problems. After the war his life’s purpose felt complete at only seventeen years old and it was extremely difficult to accept.

But then the Ministry expected him to be the poster boy for everything they had been doing towards the cleanup process- sending owls on a near daily basis asking Harry to sit on death eater trials or begging him to speak out in favor of the Ministry and their new laws. Just how much of himself Harry was willing to give had been one of the most difficult choices he ever had to make. Fighting injustice was all Harry knew. The Death Eaters had done horrendous things and even after the fall of Voldemort Harry felt a responsibility to ensure they were taken down, however Harry’s trust in the Ministry had been greatly punctured over the years he had been in the magical world, even before the Death Eaters had taken over. It was a delicate balance, and the power his word suddenly held brought a level of anxiety he was unfamiliar with, but he knew that there were too many people who would never see justice without his intervention.

His involvement in the war had only increased his fame and suddenty the Ministry of Magic and every paper in wizarding Britain were harassing him once again. Harry’s friends had been encouraging him to step back and take the time to recover; live a normal, quiet life, whatever that meant. He had never even gotten the time to properly grieve over Sirius’s death, let alone the countless other people he had lost since then who had died in his mind, because of him. He didn’t know how to step back and live a normal life, but he had craved it as long as he could remember so Harry put his everything into attempting. It took a year to realize that Harry that he would never feel that pain in his scar again, that even if he had never wanted it there to begin with an entire piece of someone’s soul he had been living with since he was a year old was gone forever and his only purpose in life had been completed before he ever had a chance to finish his NEWTs.

So He pulled back, isolated himself for a while in a way he wasn’t proud of, but didn’t know how to cope without. Going to anyone but Ron and Hermione with his problems had always seemed incomprehensible, and even then it was always easier to tell them about whatever crazy thing was happening to him at the time than discuss the feelings behind everything he had been through. He busied himself with mindless projects, spending all of his time hiding out from his friends by putting all his energy into restoring 12 Grimmauld Place. The house was now his and he didn’t want to leave the reminder of how horrible his godfather’s own childhood had been. It was the baby Teddy Lupin that was the only one who could get Harry’s undivided attention and compassion for a short while during the beginning of life after the war. He told himself it was so easy to share such raw emotion with the little boy because at first he couldn’t even understand what Harry had been saying, but Harry had felt a strong bond to the boy the second he learned of his godson’s birth. He hadn’t taken over raising Teddy, he was too young and unsure, Andromeda was the right choice as Teddy’s guardian, but Harry made a point to be a large part in his upbringing. He refused to allow him to grow up as lonely and afraid as he had been himself, and Harry felt a personal responsibility to make sure Remus and Tonk’s sacrifices of their lives weren’t for nothing and Teddy would grow up loved and in a world better than any of them grew up in.

Turning down a position in the Auror Program had surprised himself more than it had seemed to any of the people who knew him best, which had only confused him more. His dream job since he had been only fourteen had never truly been a dream, but a logical choice for someone whose entire life revolved around being manipulated into fighting. He had truly believed he would never get past his back and forth with Voldemort, and the auror office only fit the narrative. Even knowing these things didn’t make knowing he was going to be letting people down any easier and he nearly said yes solely out of fear of saying no.

His time back in the castle has been everything he never thought he would be allowed to have and Harry is taking full advantage of that fact. Teaching is something Harry had felt so strongly about in the short time he was doing so with the DA, and in the proper setting where he had the ability to ensure this next generation was not going to have to ever fear their time in the castle was the calling he never knew about.

—

All the lives lost during the war was something that sat in Harry’s thought even still, more than anything else. He never knew anything but loss, but the grief he felt the past few years was different. He hadn’t been grieving the loved ones he never had, instead the people he loved and cherished who were torn away from him too soon. Watching the Weasleys without Fred had to have been the hardest part of anything after the war’s end. He had envied Ron’s family for so long, now all he wanted was to take the hurt away from the people who he grew to call his family that were now going through this pain he knew too well.

As hopeful as the returned made Harry, it all scared him as well. He knew what happened when wixen played around with death, and even more so he knew just how dark the magic around it could be. But he also doesn’t want to feel the pain again of getting his hopes up to have family by his side to have it ripped away. He doesn’t trust it to last.

PERSONALITY

“There’s no need to call me Sir, Professor.”

Harry for some reason unknown to me, has started to be perceived to be this hypsteresque, bad-ass. A smoker, rogue auror who doesn’t play by the rules. Harry Potter is a sassy and sarcastic. But also a quidditch obsessed nerd who loves his friends with everything he has and stands up for what he believes in. He has that stereotypical Gryffindor temper, and does not always think about the consequences of his sharp tongue, but he has never been one to allow people to walk over him or anyone else. He was a victim of abuse and neglect and his words, that wit was the one thing he had to cope as a child treated like nothing more than an unwanted freak. But Harry is also the person who told Snape his nickname was Roonil Waslib. He’d spend hours on end talking to his bird and one of the first moments of the entire series he is empathizing with a snake who had been trapped and never knew their family. His friends are everything to him and Harry’s loyalty can be seen almost as a fault. There is no difference between his friends and family, and to betray or mistrust them is one of the worst things he can imagine of himself.

BRIEF OVERVIEW OF FAMILY

Harry’s memories of life before Privet Drive do not consist of anything more than flashes of colors and the occasional face. Perhaps a voice he wasn’t able to place. Family has always been Harry’s greatest desire, the things he wanted most in the world. The Durleys had been Harry’s closest living relatives, but made it clear they were not Harry’s family. His aunt and uncle made sure to remind him constantly that Harry was nothing more than an inconvenience in their home, and that he would never be as loved or cherished as their son. The idea of family was nothing more than that for a very long time; an idea and a dream. At thirteen the possibility of family had been dangled over his head in the form of a fugitive Godfather. Harry’s time with Sirius was too short, they should have had years together to make up for the twelve apart and it was after his death that Harry felt ready to give up on the idea of ever having a real family of his own. Of course that makes him feel selfish. Ron and Hermione every bit as much his family as any last name or title could make them. Harry could argue they were more family to him than Sirius and him ever had the chance to be. And the night Mrs. Weasley had called Harry ‘as good as’ another son still plays in his mind on a loop some nights when he’s looking for a reason it’s all worth it. Harry’s family isn’t blood, but he loves them all just the same. That doesn’t change the fact that he’s thought this return could mean him getting the only thing he’s ever truly wanted.

HISTORY

Harry really does wonder at times what it would be like to have an easy life. He had only been a baby when the weight of a war was thrown onto his tiny shoulders, marking him the one chosen to defeat the greatest dark wizard of their time. As a small child however, Harry would never have believed it. He had known nothing more than he was an orphan, living in cruel circumstances under the stairs in his aunt and uncle’s home and getting bullied by his cousin. It wasn’t until Harry’s eleventh birthday that his life truly began. When Hagrid had stormed down that hut to tell Harry about the truth of himself and his past, Harry felt a sense of self for the first time in his life. He had gone off to Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry and made friendships for the first time in his life. Even before the rest of the world had been sucked into another war, Harry had been drawn in from a mixture of a hero complex and clues laid out only slightly too conveniently to test and discover the boy who lived that would one day become the chosen one. Harry fought back every year, somehow always granted a new challenge and more pain until his fourth year when it had become more than a challenge that any reasonable adult would consider too dangerous.

Cedric Diggory’s murder had sparked the beginning of the war, but the greater meaning to Harry lied in the young boy who lost his life solely because he had been in the wrost place at the wrong time. He had gotten between Harry and for that reason alone he was dead. It was something Harry never learned to forgive. And it sparked the belief that people around Harry somehow always ended up dying because of him.

Sirius’s death left Harry inconsolable. He never had the proper time to grieve, with a target on his back and the war picking up quickly, but losing the one family member he had left destroyed Harry in a completely different way. And again, Harry came to the conclusion if he had only checked in the mirror Sirius could have still been alive.

The hunt for horcruxes was something else entirely. He had no connection to anyone outside of Ron and Hermione and when Ron had left it broke Harry’s heart in an entirely different way. He kept waiting for the ball to drop and one of his best friends to get hurt because of him. He clung closer, forgave quicker, and fought harder trying to keep anyone else he loved from dying.

Remus and Tonks’ deaths held a significance just as strong but different for Harry. He was a Godfather and when Remus had named him so it had become the new most important thing about him. Being the Chosen One, or the Boy Who Lived didn’t matter when there was a little boy who depended on him to stay alive and watch out for him.

OOC EXPLORATION

WHAT ARE YOU MOST LOOKING FORWARD TO?

This group is every guilty pleasure I have ever had mixed in with a wonderful plot and beautiful writing. Even though recently role plays set in the trio’s era are few and far between, the ones I have been a part of always seem to either lack writers willing to write for Harry or his character is quickly taken by someone who does not know the story beyond either solely the movie franchise or random bits of knowledge. I’ve noticed a stigma in the Potter fandom, especially the role playing community, that the ‘true fans’ have to prefer secondary or background characters. While I also love building on characters we do not see as much of in the books, it has always saddened me that this character that I grew up with is seen as the easy write up. Because we as readers have so much on Harry I’ve actually found his character more difficult to write for, but equally enjoyable.

As per Harry as an actual character, he has been like a friend since I was seven years old.

#prioriacceptance #harry potter

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homenum-revelio-hq · 4 years

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Welcome to the Order of the Phoenix, Maggie!

You have been accepted for the role of HESTIA JONES! We love how you explored Hestia’s “gray” aspects. How she’s torn between doing “the right thing” knowing it’s outside the confines of the law, which she also finds incredibly important. How she’s positive and optimistic, but how that can be hard to maintain during war. We also loved your discussion of how pretty and feminine don’t equal dim - but that she often gets overlooked for it in a sexist world. That’s exactly what we were going for when we wrote her bio! So excited to have you part of the roleplay!

Please take a look at the new member checklist and send in your account within 24 hours! Thank you for joining the fight against Voldemort!

OUT OF CHARACTER:

NAME: Maggie

AGE: 23

TIMEZONE: CEST

ACTIVITY LEVEL: I’m a student, so I normally have a very flexible schedule with time to write. Sometimes things will be more hectic, in periods where I’m swarmed with essays or exams, but I always try to carve time out to get some replies done

ANYTHING ELSE: No triggers or anything. I have a few years of experience RPing on tumblr, and lately I’ve been in a similar role-play focusing on long-term character development and longer para-based writing.

CHARACTER DETAILS:

NAME: Hestia Jones

AGE: 18

GENDER, PRONOUNS, and SEXUALITY: Cisfemale, she / her. When it comes to sexuality, Hestia is still in the discovery phase. Currently, she identifies as heterosexual, although she has sometimes questioned it. While Hestia is the kind to get surface-level crushes easily, deeper feelings comes a lot rarer and she thus doesn’t feel like she has enough experience with love / attraction to sort out what exactly she’s feeling. Sometimes she finds girls pretty too, giving her heart the same flutter as pretty boys, but she’s unsure if that means she likes-likes them. Hestia has shrugged it off at the moment and reckons she can figure it out as she goes along.

BLOOD STATUS: Half-blood

HOUSE ALUMNI: Ravenclaw

ANY CHANGES: None

CHARACTER BACKGROUND:

PERSONALITY:

At a first glance, it’s easy to overlook Hestia. But only for a moment - and only if her mouth is closed. While Hestia’s never been the kind to chatter mindlessly, she’s never been the kind to ponder in silence either. Her way of interacting with the world has always been to question it and she learned early on that asking out loud might give her an answer.

She was never the child that could sit quietly for hours and play. She’d race through the house, through the backyard (and the streets if her parents didn’t catch her), a hurricane of braids and skirts, a million question bubbling at all times. Her parents learned quickly that it was better to let her test her abilities -magical and normal- under supervision. She was always an outgoing child, happy to make friends with anyone from the kid next door to the mailman walking past, and thrived when she started Hogwarts. There was no question Ravenclaw was the house for her, filled with other likeminded kids to encourage and challenge her.

Hestia is outspoken, sometimes coming of as abrasive when she get heated up. While she tries to avoid staring arguments, Hestia’s never been one to shy away from one either and is more than willing to defend herself - or someone else. It is easy to believe that if someone is kind, they’re a pushover, and if someone dresses prettily, they’re vapid - two assumptions that Hestia has rebelled hard against her entire life. She hates being dismissed for not wanting to trample over others, hates the idea of having to act cynical to be taken seriously. Hestia has a thousand thoughts and ideas, topics and questions brewing at any given moment. That doesn’t stop her from being kind, or from making friends. Most importantly, being feminine doesn’t make her less capable. As a child, she’d scoffed at the notion of having to chose between brains and beauty. She had scoffed - only to find it a trope that haunted her. While it was no doubt where she belonged once she started Hogwarts, and Hestia loved being in a house filled with likeminded people, she sometimes felt like she was hand waved away for not dropping parts of herself. Hestia made it difficult for anyone who talked to her to ignore her, but it didn’t stop her from getting into rows. More than anything, Hestia dislikes being underestimated.

One of Hestia’s issues is that she easily gets tunnel vision when it comes to solving problems, often seeing things as very black or white. Growing up in sleepy Scarborough, with a small population and an even smaller magical one, she was kept quite sheltered in terms of the problems in the wizarding world. Her parents explained the basics of how the magical world worked but avoided the issues of it - both for her sake and for theirs. They were content keeping to their corner and not rocking the boat. Hestia, as it would turn out, was not. Starting at Hogwarts taught her a lot of new things, including many of the injustices of the world that had been kept hidden from her. At eleven, it was vague concepts but the more she grew, the more she questioned, the clearer it became. As things grew bleaker as the dark side grew stronger, Hestia’s drive to do something grew as well. While she is clever, Hestia often doesn’t know when to stop- when it’s smart to walk away from an argument, when to admit defeat. It drove her into magical law, and later into joining the Order.

Hestia wants to do good. It’s one of her driving forces - clambering to fix at least a little corner of the world. To make something better for someone. But it’s difficult to keep an upbeat attitude when it feels like the world is determined to get a little worse each day. Sometimes it feels like pushing a rock up a hill, when the news keep pouring in and her efforts keep pouring out. It’s enough to chip away at the confidence of even the most chipper, optimistic person. And while Hestia is optimistic, she’s not naive. Some days it feels difficult to keep hope up, but she keeps fighting in the belief that if you keep pushing, something has to give. Even if it’s just the tiniest pebble. So Hestia keeps going, even on the days when the world keeps kicking when you’re down. She has always been stubborn, and she has never backed away from a fight before - so why stop when it’s something that matters?

BRIEF OVERVIEW OF FAMILY:

Hestia was the not quite planned, but more than welcome kid. Her father, Richard, was working as an editor for a publication focusing on magical authors and her mother, Delia, had just started working as an English teacher at the local muggle school. Hestia came with a bang; faster and with a bit more drama than either of them had expected, and it set the precedent. She was always a curious child, defying both muggle and magical child-proofings as she climbed across the house. Both her parents discovered quickly that the best way to keep her still was by distracting her through making her think. Delia would bring home puzzles, growing more complex as Hestia did, and Richard would fire off riddles and questions, pushing her to think outside the box and work her way through problems. As she grew older she would, in return, come up with her own riddles.

As a child, Hestia never ran out of questions. Her mom liked to joke that her first word was ‘why’, and that at the very least it was her favourite word. Hestia didn’t just want to know about why things happened - she wanted to know how they functioned as it did. How did the sky change colours? Why did birds fly certain places, how did their wings work, how did they know where to go? How did rain form, how did she grow?

If her parents ever grew tired of her constant stream of questions, they never showed it. They explained what they could when they had time, encouraging her to explore the reasoning of the world they lived in. If Hestia’s favourite phrase was ‘how does this work’, her father’s was ‘let’s find out’. When she grew older and her questions became more complex, he taught her how to navigate information and find answers. Every Saturday, he would take her to the library, where she’d spend hours browsing for books containing whatever topic that had caught her that week. They’d find enough books to tide her over until the next weekend. Hestia has many fond memories of sitting next to her mother while she graded papers and tests, reading her books and sharing the most interesting bits. While her parents might have been hesitant towards her experimenting with magic, trying to understand that part of herself, they never stopped her from learning.

While Hestia still loves her parents very much, her relationship with them started changing as she grew older. Her bubble expanded the day she went to Hogwarts, opening her view to the topics her parents had skirted away from. Her questions about the world became more difficult, and for the first time her parents didn’t have any way to help her find answers. Even worse, they didn’t want to. How come the wizarding world has such deep-rooted issues? Why did so many stay content knowing about the prejudice and injustice that ran rampant? It started as innocent questions once it became clear to 11 year old Hestia how important blood purity was to so many, and evolved as she grew older. Hestia did as her father had taught her -finding answers by looking for them- and that was how her interest for magical law started.

Her relationships to her parents kept changing as she grew, and it reached a new foothold when she graduated. They were delighted when she got an internship at the Department of Magical Law, happy that their daughter was reaching high and aligning herself with the Ministry. They are none the wiser about her involvement with the Order, and Hestia intends to keep it that way. She has distanced herself from them after joining; a part of her feels guilty keeping such a large secret from them, and even more so about putting them in potential danger through association with her. So it’s easier to not talk about it. She knows they would be horrified at her involvement - her parents that she loves so much, but that will always prefer to avoid the hard questions, to look away. It is a difficult process, growing up and realizing that your parents are just humans, with flaws and problems, and Hestia is still learning to navigate this new landscape.

OCCUPATION:

Hestia is currently an intern at the Department of Magical Law. She is just starting out and trying to find her footing, bouncing around doing the paperwork and research reading. While she hasn’t quite worked her way up to getting to handle any of the important cases -or a permanent position for that sake- Hestia loves her job and is determined to plant her roots in the department. She leaps at the chance to be given any kind of responsibility, taking on anything from coffee-runs to extra work. Hestia knows how it goes, and is determined to work her way upward through hard work - and she’ll do it all with a smile.

Her interest in law-work started around her fifth year, when it was time to start considering where she wanted her life to go post-Hogwarts. Hestia had always known that she wanted to have a job that challenged her, and she had always dreamt of having a job that mattered. Certain parts of the wizarding world had always bothered her and a childish part of her had always dreamed of helping to fix it. While researching careers and stumbling over the Department of Magical Law, Hestia started playing with the idea of making her childish dream a reality. It became clear what she wanted to do and she has geared towards it since. She thinks its perfect for her; not only does she get to be a part of something bigger, trying to make the world better through legal channels, but she also gets to spend her days pouring over texts, finding arguments and logic nestles within pages. While she is a long way from being able to lobby for dismantling the outdated laws, she’ll get there some day.

ROLE WITHIN THE ORDER/THOUGHTS ABOUT THE ORDER:

Hestia is on the newer side of the Order, still on the low-level and trying to find how her talents are best put to use. She contributes where she can, coming up with ideas and suggestions, joining the missions she’s asked to. While Hestia does believe in the work they do, she still harbors some conflicted feelings. Her work is within the law -the law that she truly believes can be fixed if enough good minds keep working on it- and it feels hypocritical to be a part of a group that’s outside of it, even if she’s working towards the same goal with both the Order and her job. Then there’s the question of what would happen if she got caught; her Order involvement could jeopardize the good she can do from within the Ministry. When first asked to join, Hestia hesitated, considering the risk and gains. In the Department of Magical Law, she could create long-term groundwork to help future generations, which would stop if she got arrested. In the end, Hestia decided that while fixing magical laws to prevent future discriminations is important, it would take too long. People are being killed now, muggleborns are running for their lives now.

While she doesn’t regret her decision, that doesn’t mean her involvement has been smooth sailing either. First of all, there’s the issue of clashing with some of the other members. Hestia hates being dismissed and passed over for her appearance, hates having good ideas waved away or being bossed around. While Hestia likes to be friendly, it doesn’t mean that she’s going to let people step on her either. Then there’s the Order itself. Hestia has by all means lived a pretty sheltered life, and is fresh out of school with a good amount of youthful optimism. She still sees things as pretty black and white - even if she’s part of an illegal group, it’s the right thing to do in her eyes. She has strong ideals, that gets a bit more challenged each day. Hestia is slowly coming to terms with the world -and particularly the Order- being a lot more grey than she thought. That doesn’t mean that some of their work sit easy with her. Especially recent deaths make her uneasy, making her views of what is right more difficult. Hestia knew that the Order is desperate, weary, but how far are they willing to go to to make the overall situation better? Where do they draw the line? Where does she?

SURVIVAL:

Hestia’s work is her survival. It’s her distraction, her alibi, her sanity. While she has no doubt that joining the Order was the right move, it still makes her feel uneasy standing opposite the law - even when it’s the right thing to do. So she throws herself at her work, compensating her work outside the law by working hard within it. It gives her comfort when things look bleak within the Order, to know that she can help in another way. If the Order’s mission fail, Merlin forbid, then the law will still be there. Chipped and with its flaws, it’s still there. It can be worked on, it can be improved.

It also makes her look inconspicuous. Hestia’s hopes are that someone so dedicated to the laws and rules of the wizarding world won’t arise suspicion of being in the Order. If her presence is missed or she has to reject a social advance, she’ll cite mountains of paperwork as a reason for staying home, joking that interns are always given the worst tasks nobody else wants to take on. Still, she takes precautions to not be associated with the vigilante group. She likes to travel around when she’s not working, making it less suspicious to rarely be seen around her flat in Queensway. She avoids the topic of the Order when she can, content to shake her head in disapproval or tsk as she knows how oftentimes choosing words too carefully says more than you intend to.

RELATIONSHIPS:

Hestia is desperately trying to manage her relationships but it’s difficult. She navigates different spheres, there’s her normal friends, her work friends, the Order and her family - all of which are taking hits. Hestia has a lot on her plate. Time-wise, the Ministry takes a huge chunk of her days, and she is working hard to not neglect her Order position either. Then there is the Order itself. Outside it, Hestia is navigating how to keep it at a distance. It’s difficult to have deep, meaningful conversations when you’re afraid that you’ll slip up, say something wrong that raises suspicion, especially in this world where the wrong person learning the wrong thing can be disastrous. There’s the guilt of lying, of putting her loved ones in danger.

Then there’s the war, the weight of being involved with it. There’s this weight on her shoulders, that demands so much of her time and mentality, that she can’t talk to anyone about outside the Order. While she is making friends within it, she’s also arguing with others. Arguments she can’t vent about. The people she does like have enough on their plate and friendships are difficult when you’re worried about overloading them.

OOC EXPLORATION:

SHIPS/ANTI-SHIPS: My main basis for ships / anti-ships is chemistry. I rarely go in with ideas of ships beforehand, preferring to see how relationships and chemistry evolves.

WHAT PRIVILEGES AND BIASES DOES YOUR CHARACTER HAVE?

Hestia always sort of fell in-between when it comes to this point, having the sort of privilege that you don’t necessarily recognize until you look back. Her family wasn’t swimming in money and prestige like some of the wizarding families, and neither did she have the pure blood that is lauded. But as a half-blood, she didn’t fall lowest on the pecking order, with enough magic in her veins to not have to worry about being targeted for her muggle part - at least not in the way muggleborns have to worry about. Neither did her family really struggle. While the Joneses didn’t have manors and summer homes, they had a steady house in a good neighborhood. Hestia never had to worry about things like food or new clothes, there were no difficulties when she needed school supplies.

When it comes to biases, Hestia, like everyone else, has a few built in. While she is eager to work for a more just society, it is a bit harder to shed the feelings that’s been instilled in her - some that she might not even recognize. She grew up with stories and warnings that integrated themselves as part of her worldview (stay in your bed during the full moon, lest werewolves eat you, careful in forests for giants have to qualms eating you) and it’s difficult to shed biases when you don’t necessarily recognize them as such.

WHAT ARE YOU MOST LOOKING FORWARD TO?

Is saying ‘absolutely everything’ a lazy answer? Because my answer is Absolutely Everything. First of all, I think this rp has such an interesting plot and I absolutely love the premise. I think it sounds so fun to write within this world, explore the shades of grey. Second, I really love the focus on deeper character explorations and the style of longer paras (once you’ve been in one lsrp, you can’t go back). Third, everyone seems so nice and good writing partners are worth their weight in gold.

PLOT DROP IDEAS (OPTIONAL): Not at the moment, sorry!

ANYTHING ELSE?: This got a bit longer than intended, but thanks for reading!

#homenumaccepted

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morningfears · 5 years

Text

Stacks

Rating: M | This is smut! No one under 18!

Summary: College!AU. Calum is usually into being watched but tonight, he wants to try something different. Ft. Voyeurism and public sex.

Word Count: 3.5k

The library is quiet around you, completely still and devoid of life. It’s the middle of June and though you’d rather be anywhere else, you’re thankful for the air conditioning and the lack of usual library inhabitants as you stare blankly at the history textbook lying open on the table in front of you. It’s barely nine at night, far too early to call it quits but late enough to feel tempted, and you force yourself to bite back a sigh as you lift your head to glance at the blonde sitting across from you.

Luke looks just as miserable as you feel as he stares at his literature textbook. His eyes lack the usual spark and his curls are unruly from the constant movement of his hand running through them. He checked out nearly an hour ago and, if you’re being honest, you’re ready to join him.

You quietly stare at him for another long moment before you sigh and lean back in your seat. “Honestly,” you begin, a little too loudly for the library, “I’m over this semester and it’s barely started. Who the fuck decided that summer classes should be a thing?”

“The same person that decided tuition should be a thing, probably,” Luke offers with a shrug as he continues to stare, bored beyond belief, at the open book lying on the table in front of him. He hasn’t turned a page in close to fifteen minutes and, normally, you’d call him out. However, this time, you’re in much the same position.

You nod thoughtfully at Luke’s assertion and move to rest your elbows on the table. “The university complex is ridiculous and overrated. We’re spending eons in classes, re-learning bullshit we were supposed to learn in high school, and we’re not even guaranteed to get a job at the end of it. What are we guaranteed? A piece of paper in a fancy cardboard holder and a year’s free membership to the Alumni Association, if we’re lucky. That’s a bullshit trade-off if I’ve ever seen one,” you huff as you return the cap to your highlighter and toss the yellow marker onto the table. “I need coffee.”

“Or sex,” Luke hums, his tone never changing as he grabs your discarded highlighter and begins to twirl it between his fingers. “Speaking of, where’s Cal? Wasn’t he supposed to meet us here?”

“He had to help with orientation today. Represent the frat at the information session,” you sigh as you shove your history textbook back into your backpack. “He texted me, like, twenty minutes ago, though. The freshmen they’re hosting at the house are apparently all lightweights and have mostly passed out so he’s on his way. Wants to go over math notes or something with you.”

Luke frowns at this and shakes his head. “Why does everyone come to me for help with math?” Luke questions as he copies your actions and shoves his own textbook into his backpack.

“Your mom’s a math teacher, Luke,” Calum reminds him as he emerges from between two shelves, a carrier full of coffee in hand and a grin on his lips, “and you did so well on your exams that you got to skip math. Not all of us are fucking nerds.” Luke makes an indignant noise at this while Calum turns to you with a smile and presses a kiss to your forehead before he takes a seat in the open chair beside you. “And not all of us chose majors that require the most basic math class and nothing harder,” he teases as he glances at you.

“Not my fault you want to do something with your life,” you shrug as you grab the cup from his outstretched hand, “I’m getting a liberal arts degree that’s going to keep me in debt and jobless for the rest of my life. But at least I sorta like my classes.”

Luke whines at this and shakes his head once more. “Can we stop talking about class and the future?” Luke questions as he takes his own coffee from Calum. “It’s depressing and I don’t want to have a mental breakdown in the library. Remember that one kid freshman year?” When you and Calum nod, Luke continues, “People still bring it up and tease him about it. And he’s, like, a super senior.”

“Fuck this bullshit,” you grumble as you nudge your coffee cup to the side and drop your head to the table with a ‘thump’. “I give up. I’m going to become a stripper. Did you know that was an actual goal of mine for, like, ten minutes when I was a kid?” you mumble, your voice muffled by the table. “Wanted to be a stripper or a Playboy Bunny. Couldn’t decide. Thought about both. Maybe a Suicide Girl.”

Calum makes a thoughtful noise beside you before he reaches out to stroke your back gently. “If you want to test any, or all, of those fantasies, see if you’d be any good at them, I’m more than happy to help judge,” Calum offers with a grin. When you reach out to swat at him half-heartedly, he grabs your arm and tugs you into his side with a laugh. “I’m kidding,” he assures you, a grin still present on his lips, “academia is for you. You’re just tired. You guys have been here for hours.” He pauses for a moment, looks you and Luke over, before he continues, “Seriously, you should take a break. Say fuck the reading, both of you. Let’s go run through the fountain naked or something.”

“Honestly, I love you, but fuck off,” you sigh as you prop your head on your arms and glance over at Calum. “I don’t feel like going streaking at the moment. I’m tired. And hungry. And also horny. It’s the worst combination of negative emotions and I’m actually going to combust if I don’t get out of this library. My soul is becoming one with these walls.”

Calum is quiet for a moment as he watches Luke draw haphazard circles on the table with the capped end of the highlighter while you stare blankly at your coffee cup. He wants to break the two of you out of your school-induced haze and, the longer he thinks about it, the clearer the perfect idea becomes. You’d mentioned it once, early in your relationship and under the influence of far too much weed, but Calum remembers clearly that you’d had a thing for Luke before the two of you got together. And Luke, God love him, doesn’t have a filter and has mentioned on several different occasions just how attractive he finds you.

Calum had admitted to you during a late night conversation after a few orgasms and in desperate need of sleep that he’d like to watch you with someone else. It was a fantasy he never though he’d have, he prefers to be watched, but the idea hit him and he hasn’t been able to shake it. That night, you’d been on board after a moment’s hesitation and Calum is thinking that now might be time to act. Especially, he rationalizes to himself, here in the deserted third floor stacks.

He knows that there’ll never be another opportunity like this. The library is nearly empty, quiet and devoid of life. The campus itself is empty, most students have gone home for the summer, and is running on a skeleton crew. Even if you were to get caught, which Calum highly doubts, it’ll likely be by someone who isn’t paid enough to care.

With that, and yours’ and Luke’s desperate need for a study break, in mind, Calum decides to propose his solution to the two of you. He breaks the lengthy stretch of silence with a quiet hum of, “I think I might have another idea. You guys trust me?”

Calum expects a moment of hesitation but without missing a beat, you nod. “Of course,” you assure him, lifting your head slightly to glance over at him, “you know I do.”

“Not in the slightest but I’m dying of boredom so I’ll bite,” Luke shrugs, although both of you know that he trusts Calum with his life.

Calum rolls his eyes at Luke’s response before he leans over and presses a kiss to your forehead. He hesitates for a moment, almost unsure of himself, before he steels his resolve, stands from his seat, and begins walking toward the back of the room. He’s heading for the back row of shelves, out of view of the cameras, and you frown as you watch him. When he doesn’t hear footsteps behind him, he glances over his shoulder at you and Luke. “You guys coming?” he calls over his shoulder, grinning when you and Luke share a wary glance before you both stand and hurry after him.

“Okay, not that I don’t fully trust you,” you begin as Calum leads you and Luke into a corner illuminated by the streetlight outside the window, “I just don’t get it. What are we doing in the dustiest corner of the library?”

The lights aren’t as harsh in this area, the florescent bulbs are blocked by the high shelves, but there’s still enough light pouring in that you can see the dust covered shelves and cobwebs. You can also see Calum and Luke clearly enough to notice that Calum has a mischievous glint in his eyes while Luke looks just as confused as you feel.

“You remember what we talked about a few weeks ago?” Calum asks you as he steps closer and reaches out to place his hands on your hips. When you stare blankly at him, he sighs. “We talked about things we wanted to try. I said I wanted to watch.”

It takes a moment but when Calum sees a flicker of recognition in your eyes, he grins. “Wait, what?” you laugh, “Here? Now? With Luke?”

“What are we doing here, now, and with Luke?” Luke questions, his eyebrows furrowing further with confusion. “What are you trying? What are you watching? I feel so lost right now.”

“Shut up for a second, Luke,” you mumble, glancing over Calum’s shoulder at him. He holds his hands up in surrender and turns his attention to the dusty, broken spines of old books as you turn yours to Calum. “Are you serious? Why here, why now?”

“I’m serious,” Calum nods as he squeezes your hips gently. “Here because it’s quiet and empty, now because the two of you need a break. Do you still want to?”

“I mean, yeah,” you nod, certain that sleeping with Luke is something you want, “but are you sure you’re okay with it? I don’t want to say you’re possessive but…”

“You’re possessive,” Luke chimes in, his attention still on the bookshelf and back still turned to the two of you. When you’re silent for a moment, he shrugs. “You’re right there, I can’t help but hear you.”

Calum rolls his eyes at this before he returns his full attention to you. “I’m okay with it,” he nods. “If I don’t like it, at least we’ll know and I can go back to being possessive,” he shrugs, adding the last few words with a grumble as he cuts his eyes to Luke (who you’re certain has a grin on his lips).

“Okay but that doesn’t mean Luke wants to,” you sigh as you glance over Calum’s shoulder once more.

“Luke definitely wants to,” Calum nods. He’s certain that Luke will say yes. He knows that this is something Luke has wanted for a while and will jump at the opportunity.

“If you two would stop talking about me like you think I can’t hear you, I’d tell you if I was in or not,” Luke huffs as he turns to face you and Calum. “What do I definitely want to do?” he directs to Calum as soon as Calum turns to face him.

“You definitely want to fuck my girlfriend.”

Luke stands there, frozen with his eyes wide and mouth hanging open, for a long moment before he shakes his head. “What? No, I don’t. What gave you that idea?” When he glances at you and sees your raised eyebrows, he backtracks. “I mean, I do. I find you very attractive and great and would love to but you’re with Calum! And I would never…” Luke trails off when he realizes you and Calum are both smiling at him. He’s slightly confused and doesn’t understand what’s happening as he grumbles, “Stop laughing at me. I don’t know what you want me to say here.”

“Just say yes,” you encourage him with a grin. “Cal and I were talking about it. He’s always had a thing for being watched but now he wants to try the reverse, watching someone else.”

“Why me?” Luke asks, eyes still wide and a blush creeping up his neck.

“Because she wants you just as bad as you want her,” Calum shrugs as he wraps his arm around your shoulders and grins at Luke. “Either take it or leave it, Luke. This is the only time I’m going to play nice and share.”

Luke glances between you and Calum for a long moment. He wants to be certain that you’re both serious, that you’re not playing a practical joke on him, but he knows that neither of you would do anything that cruel to him. He knows that you’re both serious and, although he’s somewhat nervous, he doesn’t want to let this opportunity pass him by.

“Okay,” he nods, “yeah. I want to do this.”

Calum grins at this and nods before he releases your shoulders and brings his hands to your cheeks. He pulls you in for a quick, passionate kiss before he releases you and steps back. “I don’t think anyone will check back here but remember we’re in public. Keep quiet, baby,” he reminds you with a grin. After he nudges you toward Luke, Calum leans against one of the stacks, settling into a space where he can still see your face, and nods. “Go for it.”

Both you and Calum know that Luke won’t take the lead in this scenario. You know that he’s afraid to cross any lines or upset Calum so you make the first move. The moment Calum nudges you forward, you close the open space between you and Luke and pause before you touch him. “Is this okay?” you ask, wanting to be sure, “Can I touch you?”

“Please,” Luke nods, “it’s more than okay. Fuck.”

You grin at his excitement as you wrap your arms around his neck and tangle your fingers in his hair. You know that, even though the library is mostly empty, you’re still in public and need to be mindful of how long you take. However, you want to savor the first few moments. So you’re slow, soft and gentle, as you rake through the curls. “You can touch me, Luke,” you smiles, granting him permission, “I promise, Cal won’t be mad.”

Calum nods his agreement when Luke glances over at him but otherwise remains quiet as he watches Luke place his hands on your hips. Luke attempts to tune Calum’s presence out as you gently pull him down to press a soft kiss to his lips. Luke is somewhat rigid against you but the moment your fingers gently tug at his hair, he’s melting against you.

Calum watches as you lead the kiss. He watches Luke’s fingers dig into your hips, your fingers tug at his hair, your lips working seamlessly together. Calum shifts to get a better look as you crowd closer to Luke, your chest pressed against his as you release his hair and drop your hands to his shoulders. Luke breathes a sigh of content as he moves his hands to your ass. Calum grins at this, happier than he thought he would be at Luke finally playing along, and adjusts himself in his jeans as he watches your hands move down Luke’s chest.

“You can touch me, Lu,” you mumble against the column of his throat as you pull away to catch your breath.

“You should touch her,” Calum reminds him. “I’m enjoying this but we’re in public.”

Luke blinks as if he’s only just remembered this fact and nods. “Public,” he mumbles, his hands squeezing your ass before they move to the button of your shorts, “right.”

With the thought that the two of you are on a timer, Luke gains the motivation he needs to begin moving uninhibited. Calum is mildly impressed as he watches Luke dip his hand beneath your skirt and nudge your panties to the side. You feel your knees buckle as Luke’s fingers find your clit and he grins into the kiss as he wraps his arm around your waist to hold you up. As you focus on the feeling of Luke’s fingers rubbing at your clit, brushing your slit and attempting to open you up, you follow his lead and unbutton his jeans.

Calum steps just a little closer as Luke turns you and presses you against the window. Luke has his lips back on yours, his tongue licking into your mouth as he bunches your skirt up. He slips two fingers into your heat, working to prepare you, as he uses his free hand to nudge his jeans down just enough to free his cock. He feels something against his arm and pulls away from you, confused, only to find Calum holding a condom out to him. “Thanks,” he mumbles as takes the foil from Calum.

Calum nods his acknowledgment before he steps back and allows Luke to continue. Luke doesn’t want to rush this, he wants to savor the moment, but he knows that the two of you need to hurry. So as you press kisses to the column of his throat, he rolls the latex onto his length.

As Luke brushes his length down your slit, you meet Calum’s eyes over his shoulder. His eyes are dark with lust and his bottom lip is swollen from biting it. His arms are folded over his chest but you can see the bulge in his jeans and you know that he’s likely aching to be touched. You know that your night is far from over, you can tell by the smirk on his lips, and the thought makes you moan as you return your fingers to Luke’s hair. “Come on, Luke,” you groan as you tug at his curls, “fuck me, please.”

Luke groans at the feeling of your lips on his neck, of your hands in his hair, and nods as he places his cock at your entrance. He sinks in slowly, wanting to savor the moment, but as soon as he’s buried inside of you, his thoughts all vanish into nothing but how tight and warm you are around him. He remains still for a moment, breathing deeply as he attempts to control himself, before he sets a moderate pace.

His fingers are on your clit, rubbing the bundle of nerves quickly, as he fucks into you. Your free hand is splayed on the glass as you wrap your leg around his waist and attempt to hold yourself steady. You can feel the glass vibrating behind you, can feel the exhilaration as you think that anyone passing by might be able to see, and it all overwhelms your senses as you meet Calum’s eyes once more.

You keep your eyes on Calum’s as you cum and he has to bite back a groan as he watches you. He wants to step in, kiss you and hold you tight to his chest, but he remains in his position as he watches Luke chase his own orgasm. It only takes another moment, not long after your release, for Luke to join you in the afterglow of an orgasm. He’s still for a moment, quiet, before he pulls out.

The two of you are quiet as you adjust your clothes and Luke moves to step away but before he can, you pull him in and press a gentle kiss to his lips. “Thank you, Lu,” you mumble against his lips before you gently pat his cheek and step around him to reach out for Calum. Before you can speak, Calum pulls you into a heated kiss. His hands are against your cheeks, holding you in place, as he leaves you breathless.

“I liked it,” he mumbles against your lips in response to your unspoken question. “I really fucking liked it,” he breathes as he grabs your hand and guides it to the bulge in his jeans.

“I think I’m done studying for the night,” you breathe as you gently squeeze him, “we should go back to my place. My roommates are gone.”

“Or we could go to mine,” Calum breathes, “I don’t think my roommate will mind. He might even join us.”

The both of you glance at Luke who looks mildly surprised but nods just as quickly. “Fuck yeah,” he breathes as he grabs the hand you’re holding out to him, “I don’t mind at all.”

Author’s Note: I started this, like, ages ago for a request. And I just now finished it. If whoever requested this initially is still around, I’m sorry and I hope you liked it.

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