#but it was probably best I stuck with this look
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Stuck with Me
Credit for gif goes to aaronwarner
James Beaufort x Reader
Synopsis: James and Reader are secretly dating. Elaine finds out and started to treat Reader terribly. Reader is an Ellington, sister to Elaine, twin to Alistair. When James finds out what Elaine had been doing, he does to comfort the reader.
Product of a series of requests that had explained similar scenarios.
warning: suggestive themes, but no details. Probably bad grammar and editing. I tried. Finished it in a rush before work. Will probably edit later.
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The two of them were honestly surprised that they had been able to keep their relationship a secret as long as they have. James and Y/N both went to a school where a majority of the students were too smart for their own good. Although, it wasn’t even the school that they were surprised about keeping the relationship from. It was their siblings. Y/N was not only a close and confiding friend to Lydia, but she was also an Ellington sibling. A twin to Alistair, older sibling to Elaine.
They were definitely trying to hide things from Elaine. If she were to find out, it would be the end of the world. At least for Elaine that is.
James and Y/N had wondered for some time on what would be the best way to keep this secret. It wasn't like they hated each other, so they couldn't use that. Y/N had in fact spent as much time around James as many others have. They had even considered fabricating a lie. Making up an event in which it would give the two no rhyme or reason not to hate each other.
But then they remember who one, they were related to, and two, who they were friends with. It would have been a difficult one to pull off, no less keep afloat. So the two continued to bounce ideas off of each other, and had finally decided to keep interactions around others to a minimum.
They give each other fleeting glances when passing each other in the hall. If they sit next to each other in a classroom or just anywhere that will allow them, an arm or leg are barely brushing against each other. When addressing each other, they say their names. No nicknames. No usage of ‘hey’ or anything else. Just their names. If they sit on a bench, James allows his arm to rest on the back of it. They continue their normal mannerisms, and maybe that's why no one has caught on just yet to their charades.
James and Y/N had the undivided attention of each other but in some way, they wanted more.
—
Y/N was walking Lydia when They bumped into James, Alistair, Wren and Cyril. The two girls stood shoulder to shoulder.
“I'm just saying. You guy are twins. Don't you have that mind thing that allows her to know what you're thinking? Or when you feel pain?” Cyril flicked Alistair in the forehead. Alistair had looked unamused, but Y/N felt otherwise. An amused smile graced her lips as she glanced momentarily at Lydia.
“Ow.” The monotone voice and stare of Alistair caused a small snicker to come from Y/N. The four boys jumped, caught off guard by their company. Y/N eyes flickered to James, flashing a smile before Cyril pulled her away from her spot next to Lydia.
“The girl of the house. Y/N, seriously. You guys don’t have that twin telepathy thing going on? Did you feel it when I flicked Alistair's forehead?” Y/N looked at him, then her brother.
“I didn't feel anything. Sure you used enough force behind it? It was really light. Like a feather.” Cyril dropped his jaw, not expecting the comeback. “It's okay Cyril. Some women like the light touch of a man.”
“Are you speaking from experience?” he asked, narrowing his eyes at her like he was trying to read her.
James smirked as he looked at Y/N. She looked around the small group of people. Wren was waiting for an answer, one of which Alistair didn't want to hear. Lydia now looked just as amused as Y/N did. Then her eyes landed on James. He raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth quirking into a small smirk.
“I prefer not to tell.”
“Way to keep a man wondering.” Cyril drew Y/N's attention back to him.
“You're not really a man, Cyril. A boy, maybe. But a toddler fits the image better.” Cyril took a stagger back, a hand to his chest. “You wound me so.”
“Good. You can ask James and Lydia the same question.” James instantly shook his head.
“I don't know. Do you want me to flick your forehead and see if I can feel it?” James looked at his sister.
“Do you want me to flicker your forehead and see if I can feel it?” James flashed his sister a cheeky grin before turning back to Cyril.
“You can do it.” Cyril looked at Lydia, who glared at him, albeit playfully. He shook his head.
“I prefer life.”
“Good choice. Anyways, I'm off to class.” Lydia bid the group goodbye. Cyril, Wren, and Alistair were next to leave.
“Alistair!” Y/N called out to her brother. He looked back. “Don't let the toddler pester you too much. They can be pesky little buggers. Can't they?” He flashed her a smile at the same time Cyril turned back and flipped her the finger.
Once they were gone, Y/N turned to James. He was already smiling at her.
“Do you like soft touches?” He asked, raising an eyebrow, his smile turning to a smirk.
“Wouldn't you like to know.” His hands itched to touch her. James looked up and down the hallway, making sure no one was there before pulling her into an empty room.
He pushed her up against the wall. His hands entangled themselves in her hair. Y/N looked up at him, her fingers combing through his hair. She brushed his hair out of his face.
“Playing a dangerous game every second both of us are in here.” Y/N said.
“I had to have a few seconds with you.”
“Well since both of us are in here, kiss me already.” James pulled her to him, capturing her lips in a kiss. He took it slow, holding her against him. She put one arm around his neck, while her other hand moved up his shirt, settling on his waist. James sucked in a breath at the touch, before moving his lips from hers and up along her jaw.
“How’s this for soft touches?” He whispered.
“Mm. Too soft.” James pulled back enough to look into her face. Y/N smirked at him. A low rumble could be heard on his throat, as he captured her lips into a searing kiss, pushing her further against the wall.
And when they finally left the room, little did they know that someone watched them exit minutes later, both looking slightly disheveled, and exchanging a few chaste kisses in what they thought to be a quiet and empty hallway, before going their own way.
—
Over the course of the next few days, Y/N had received glares and mistreatment from some of the students on campus. James had tried talking to her about her sullen mood lately, but had gotten nothing. Lydia had even tried to talk to her, but Y/N wouldn't even talk to her about it.
And she felt bad, but going to a school where one person was always out to get the other, she didn't know who would believe her. Even if she knew that her boyfriend and best friend were the ones most likely to do just that.
So she received the mistreatment and said nothing. Most of it came from Elaine, her sister. The sneers, the ‘accidental’ bumps, the nasty comments. All from her own sister.
Y/N could make an assumption, as she watched her sister talk to James from the end of the hallway. Her sister brushed up against James, her hands moving his hair out of his face just as Y/N does in private. He had shrunk away from her, a slight look of discomfort on his face. She watched as James politely excused himself, before walking the opposite way from where Y/N was standing.
Elaine knew about James and Y/N, and now part of Maxton Hall did too.
She watched as Elaine stood for several seconds, watching James walk away, before she turned her head and caught Y/N watching her. Elaine sent her a sneer, before starting to walk towards her. Y/N waited for her and whatever kind of mistreatment that she would bring.
“Do you really think that someone like him could love someone like you?” She asked. Y/N stared at her.
“We are sisters Elaine. We have the same blood and genes.”
“He will be mine. James will forget about you, and he will come running to me when that happens.” Elaine had a smug look on her face as she spoke to Y/N. “It's expected Y/N. No one could or would ever love you.” Y/N knew at that moment that Elaine was also talking about herself. Elaine finally turned to walk away.
“Oh. And Y/N.” She stopped and turned. “We aren't sisters.” The last little bit of Y/N's heart crumbled as she watched Elaine walk away. Her hand reached into her pocket, and with shaky fingers, she got ahold of their chauffeur. Y/N wanted to leave.
—
Y/N had opted out of going to class, and hasn’t been in for several days. Their parents were away for business trips and even when they were home, she played it off that she was either sick or had a migraine, which wasn’t too hard to pull off. Alistair had brought home her homework. Lydia and James had also kept her in the loop about assignments, but other than that, she didn’t speak much to either of them.
Y/N had finally told Alistair what had been going on and how Elaine had been treating her. This also, therefore, had spilt the beans about Y/N’s and James' secret relationship. Y/N had thought that Alistair would have had an issue with it, just as Elaine did, but if anything, he was happy for his sister and best friend. Elaine wasn’t good for James anyway.
I told him
Y/N stared down at her phone, looking at her brother’s message to herself. She laid in bed, her face buried in the pillow, sullied with tears as she thought about the last few days and how she managed the situation. It was the wrong way to do so, and she knew it. James and Lydia should have been told, instead of being ignored in the way that they were currently.
She deserved to be hated. They had every right to be bad at her. Instead, they were the opposite.
Lydia had also messaged her, being gentle about it, even if she was upset that Y/N felt that she couldn’t go to her about Elaine. Lydia never liked her to begin with.
Then there was James.
He had only sent Y/N one message.
I’m on my way. J.M.B
She had smiled at his message, finally sending him one back.
<3 Your F/M/L initials
Y/N had only waited a little bit before James was bursting through her bedroom door. He stopped in the doorway.
“Y/N.” His eyes traveled over her face, taking in the appearance of her tear stained face. “Oh love.” James hurried over to the bed, kneeling down on the floor. He brought her face into his hands, using his thumbs to wipe away any tears on her face. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
“I didn’t know who would believe me.”
“I would have. You know that.” He said. James searched her eyes, seeing nothing but pain and regret. “How long?” He asked. Y/N swallowed thickly, averting her eyes and face away from him. He grabbed her chin with his hand, moving her face so that she looked at him again. “How long, Y/N?”
She stared at him for several seconds, before looking at his neck, avoiding eye contact.
“A week. More or less.” Her voice broke, remembering how she was treated. It would have been different had it not been her sister that treated her in the way that she did. But it wasn’t different, and it was her sister, so there was no changing it. Y/N sat up on her bed, her legs hanging over the side. James grabbed her hands, holding them in his own. He brought them up to his lips, pressing a kiss to her knuckles.
“What did she do?” He asked. Y/N pulled her hands away from his, rubbing her eyes. James settled his hands on her thighs, rubbing his hands up and down them to help soothe her nerves.
“The normal thing a bully does. Sneers. Snide comments. Bumping into them. Shoved me in private, degraded me here at home…” She trailed off, her hands settling on her thighs next to his own. James grabbed her hands again, rubbing his thumbs against her knuckles as he listened to her.
“Is there something else?” She was silent for several moments, trying to find a way to phrase it.
“I shouldn’t let this bother me because I really don’t like her right now, but she told me that we weren’t sisters.” James stared at her in silence for several moments. She stared at anything but him, feeling small in the current situation. “Also told me that she would have you at some point. That you would basically grow tired of me and go to her to give you what I can’t.” she mumbled softly.
“And what can’t you give me?” he asked. “Because you have given me all that I need and more.” James reassured her. He stood up, settled his hands on her cheeks, and brought her into a searing kiss, before pushing her back on the bed.
“What are you doing James?” she asked, staring up at him, confused.
“I’m going to show you how much I appreciate you.” He pushed the blankets off of her. “How much you make me happy.” James looped his fingers in the shorts and panties she wore for sleeping, pulling them down. “That there is no other woman I want other than you.” James pushed her shirt up slightly, laid on the bed, and began pressing kisses to her stomach, moving down. Soft kisses were pressed to her navel, and then on the inside of her thighs. His eyes never left hers, wanting to take in her appearance as he showed her just how much he loved her. One arm looped around one of her thighs, while the other searched for her hand. Her fingers looped with his. “You’re stuck with me, sweetheart.”
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taglist: @honethatty12 @lifeonawhim @ashamedtobewhitemanswhore27 @maryvibess @wheredidmyeyesgo @imasimptoowth @avada-kedavra-bitch-187
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˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧always a brat ˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧
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summary: no matter how hard he tries megumi is always a spoiled brat that hates to share, especially when it's you he's sharing.
tags: megumi x fem/afab! reader, childhood friends to lovers, slight slight angst mostly cute fluff, flustered pining megumi, jealousy (cute), dad gojo, nanami is so cool (derogatory) this is me wanting cute megumi content bc i miss him too much. Honestly I gave a huge backstory about you and megumi's childhood LMAO enjoy
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It wasn't so long ago that a neurotic white haired lanky man showed up at your doorstep, alongside a bored, odd-haired child to explain curses, and the art of jujutsu sorcery.Yadayada some bad people were looking for you because you have a powerful gift yadayada Gojo can help nurture your talents and keep you from being caught by those bad people because he's a big strong guy who supposedly ruined the world (idk the freak kept yapping for so long) yadayada you may or may not die but you'll be helping people, and not have to be around mean family members who think you're weird for seeing scary monsters they don't believe are real. (showed them)
The whole time this child-highjacker was talking you couldn't help but stare at the young boy about your age hiding behind him, not really out of fear but of disinterest, looking like he'd rather be anywhere else.
Gojo catching on concluded his speech and gestured towards Megumi,"Ah! This little handsome punk right here is Megumi Fushiguro another cute stray i've taken under my wing! You're probably about the same age, first grader? Sooo! I'm sure you're gonna be best friends in no time!" he yelled animatedly, smile wide and mischievous.
Megumi scoffed in response, turning and walking away to a nearby car. You gasped at how so blatantly rude he was to your face, your face painted with obvious irritation. At your reaction Gojo chuckled and reached down to ruffle your (h/c) hair presenting you with a thumbs up.
"Don't mind him, I've come learn he's naturally moody, like is that kid really six years old,..but i'm sure he'll come around...I mean he really has no choice as you two will be a team from now on. Anyways! Let's get you two something to eat..y'like kikufuku?!" Shiny blue eyes peaked from round black sunglasses, you simply shrugged and walked with him to the car with your silly little backpack and your new future.
Growing up with Megumi was a slightly mixed bag, but instead of growing irritated of him, he fascinated you. Despite his more shadowy personality, you were rather fond of him right away,finding his hot temperament and need to be serious rather endearing and cute much to his open and endless dismay.
You wondered how this could be someone your age, as Megumi was much more composed than the supposed adult now taking care of you. He was indifferent to both you and Gojo, only ever interacting with his elder step-sister Tsumiki, who urged him to be kinder and more approachable especially since you two were in the same predicament. Megumi would scoff and tell her to leave him alone and that he didn't wanna make friends just because they're stuck together. You never took offense but it would annoy you that you had the decency to be kind but he wasn't discreet with his attitude.
"Right..like I know i'm the adult but it's kind shooting down my pride that this kid doesn't like me yet, i'm not above bribes..." Gojo had whispered to you after you secretly inquired about the other child, having a difficult time adjusting to your new living situation, the young boy's attitude towards you was not welcoming and though you did your best to leave him alone, you would still extend an arm out as gently as possible. Although, you were also not above checking Megumi's attitude which would result in some major clashes that would make Gojo fret over household repairs.
After walking you guys home from school Gojo would figure out what to feed you before training and homework, allowing you to snack as he stressfully lamented over what to feed the three of you. You're all seated at the table with your homework laid out, peckish from a long day of being an elementary aged child. Tsumiki sat primly in her chair sipping on a pink carton of strawberry milk, a staple in the gojo-fushiguro-(l/n) household. Excitedly you ask her if there were anymore boxes of the heavily worshipped beverages left.
She nodded sweetly, soft brown locks swaying,"Yeah (y/n) there's one more left with your name on it!"
You beam happily out of your seat, ready to grab your treat and announce to your guardian that more strawberry milk was to be added to the grocery list. Until...
.
.
You fall face first onto the firmness of the tatami mat and hear the rapid stomping of feet fleeing to the cabinet where your sacred treasure lay. Furious you look up at Megumi who was now indifferently drinking the last carton, that you had so openly claimed, a claim that was co-signed and notarized by Tsumiki. The absolute audacity of this bratty spoiled motherfu-
"Meg-" Tsumiki began to scold right before you exploded.
"You bitch!" you shrieked, you hear Tsumiki gasp at your profanity, but your anger was at boiling point with this broom haired kid. Megumi retained his look of indifference which furthered enraged you. Megumi expected you to get mad and yell at him but what he didn't expect was-
"OOF!" Megumi fell backwards roughly on the floor, as you tackled him, strawberry milk carton flying out of his hand, destination unknown. You're on him pulling as harshly as your tiny fists allow on his hair, he yells pushing you back but you're relentless!
"Calm down what's your deal you freak it's just strawberry milk!"
"You tripped me to get it you selfish brat! Even though you knew i wanted it!"
"You obviously didn't want it that bad! Should've been more alert!" he successfully gets you off of him, shoving you to the living room.
"Guys please!" You both ignore Tsumiki
"Ugh! You're such a whiny little bitch!" You lunge at him again with your fist ready,unbeknownst to you there's glowing flames of energy coursing through it,he narrowly evades it by moving his head. Making impact with the sofa, it splits in half, wooden floor below absolutely destroyed.
Megumi grunts in anger, his fist glowing as well ready to make impact with you, quickly you push him off and he blows a hole through the television and the wall behind it. Stubbornly you both make way to each other with powered filled fist ready to collide.
"ENOUGH! What's the matter you two!" Gojo catches both of your fists,pulling you two off the floor, holding the both of you in each hand, he angrily looks back and forth between you and the destroyed living room. "How did this happen! Why are you two trying rip each others' heads off and why is the living room a-oh?"
A lightbulb flickers over him," Well I'll be damned! You two finally managed to produce cursed energy,how exciting!" The older man hugs you both tightly, crushing your lungs.
"Too bad it took you guys trying to kill each other...which reminds me we need to have a little lesson on teamwork, and household construction you absolute demon children!" He gives a preview of your 3 hour long lecture by throwing you two into the hole you just punched in the floor.
.
.
.
After that incident you understood how someone so deceptively calm like Megumi was to be a sorcerer, he was crazy, a an absolute psycho you'd say. Gojo's words from a previous time replay in your mind:
"You have to be a little crazy to handle being jujutsu sorcerer."
Through a lot of exposure therapy, Megumi eventually got used to your presence, and actually began to enjoy it, seeking it even. Once you were both a little older and still around each other, he figured he may as well get along with you. It's not that he didn't like you (anymore) or found you annoying (anymore) he realized he was just used to Tsumiki, and didn't care for any more than that and was surprising to himself very combative to any sort of change. But he was making the effort to fix that immature side of him and be more receptive and open to you and gojo.
Despite that, the more missions you two shadowed, the longer you lived together and went to school, the closer you became and the tighter your bond felt. You became an inseparable pair, hanging out outside of sorcery and schooling, in your rooms, sharing hobbies and tastes in music, constant laughter and smiles were consistently heard and shared between you two. Witnessed fondly by Tsumiki and Gojo who had their own little gossip circle over mochi and tea. Strawberry milk was no longer allowed in the household.
This unshakable bond was like concrete, no matter the circumstances, no matter how terrifying going out on missions became and the atrocities you experienced, you guys relied on each other, minds and hearts in perfect synergy the older you became. Getting to your first year of jujutsu tech was something you both couldn't believe finally came around, now almost 10 years later, and your relationship was still thriving! Yuji and Nobara blending in perfectly to your small shared circle!
But now one person has began to shake that bond and making Megumi's possessive bratty habits rear their ugly head.
It's making Megumi regret coming to this stupid sorcerer school with the stupid handsome suit wearing ex-salarymen sorcerers who have stupid sorcery knowledge and wisdom. Who are stupidly caring and kind with cute quirks like loving bread, fuckin loser (yet megumi hates red bell pepper)
This thought process was pissing him off, and so was the existence of a specific grade 1 sorcerer.
"Nanami is so strong! His ratio technique is so cool!"
"Nanami is helping me with my precision and aim! He's so kind!"
"Nanami is such a gentleman, he tucked me to sleep in the car on the way home from a mission! A sweet handsome guy like him must have no problem getting da-"
"Alright! I get it Nanami is so great and awesome! You know it's a little inappropriate to have a crush on your superiors!" Megumi grumbles as he slams his hand on the table,eyebrows raised at you. What's so great about a guy who wears a suit to exorcise curses? fuckin weirdo
Your eyes widen as a flush takes over your cheeks, "Gumi don't be mean! I don't have a crush on Nanami, I'm just saying how kind he is and how much i've learned from him!" your lips form a pout.
"Really? Then why is your face red? Why are your eyes sparkling when you talk about him?What's the point in calling him handsome if you're not crushing on him! You sound like a love sick school girl!" He bites back.
You raise your brows and cross your arms,"You know your bratty attitude wasn't cute when we were kids and it's definitely not cute now! So what if I admire my mentor or compliment his looks! Yuji's complimented my looks and I don't see you calling him a love sick school girl!"
Internally he's kicking himself, he doesn't understand why hearing about Nanami from you is making him react this way. It feels like someone else is piloting his brain right now (or maybe his six year old self) especially when he utters his next words,"Maybe you should start hanging out with Nanami since he's so cool and special!"
"'You like me or something huh? Can't stand me looking at someone else!"You stand up, fists on the table, you lean your body over to Megumi's side of the table, face to face your (e/c) eyes give him a heated glare.
Now it's Megumi's turn to flush red, breaking his neck to look away from your intimidatingly beautiful eyes, his heart snaps.
"Are you jealous Gumi? Is that it? You want me to look at you only?" You inch closer, calling him out on his bluff.
'WHAT! Oh god.. no no no, awe shit...god damn it what am I thinking, beautiful eyes? I mean she does have beautiful eyes, and she's beauti- oh my god? She asked if I like her? I think that's what this is...heart pumping? Am I jealous of Nanami? Idiot. Why did I have to run my mouth like that? Since when do I lose my cool this bad nowadays?!" Megumi's thoughts race 100 miles per hour, body running hot from the interrogation.
"J-Jel-Jealous? What the hell would I have to be jealous of Nanami for!" His delicately pretty face twisted in confusion and irritation.
"I don't know gumi, how about you enlighten me" You smirk, cornering him like he's a feral possum, he's not getting out of this one unscathed.
He never really got into the specifics of his feelings for you, of course he liked you, or else he wouldn't stick around. You guys were so close it was honestly concerning to others and himself, you were his most treasured person (sacred one would say) He has been through major life experiences, and struggles with you, you grew up together. You had a domestic routine, a result of living together for years, even in the same house you guys slept in each other's rooms (and still do even though the dorms prohibit it) watched tv together, read together, cooked for each other, studied...went on outings... had matching rings ... matching sweaters.. and oh god is he already dating you?
That's not all, his shikigami adored you, you were there when he summoned his first ones, the divine dogs that he appropriately named shiro and kuro, and boy you were so excited to see them, the dogs took an instant liking to your adoration, and eventually you bonded with them they look out for you on missions. As a child that cemented for Megumi that you were someone he held dear and was 100% certain you had truly kind and pure heart if his shikigami were so trusting of you.
Same thing happened with his other shikigami; Nue would nuzzle into you despite his ever growing body whether it was after a successful mission or as soon as it was summoned for training, excited rust colored wings and a happy screech flocked your way. Gama and rabbit escape jumping on your shoulders in greeting or to rest.
When he lost Shiro and Orochi, you made him a pretty silver charm necklace with a snake and pretty white wolf, letting him mourn his fallen companions in the comfort of his bed as he sobbed heart wrenchingly in your arms and expressed his deep appreciation that you allowed him have something of them to carry with him
That memory is specifically one he holds so dearly, he remembers how much you reassured him that it was okay to mourn his shikigami and Yuji and that it wasn't his fault they died, and that this situation shouldn't make him jaded in making bonds with others; reality was that you guys were all still so young so to see one of you die was heartbreaking no matter how normal it was in your world.
looking back he feels that's when he began realizing his feelings ran deeper than initially imagined. It was instinct for him to protect you, comfort you and even just care for you in any way possible. Always making sure you were fed and hydrated, well rested, not overstrained, comforting you when missions you went on without him went awry, carrying you to bed when you fell asleep in the common room at the dormitory, or in the car on the way home.
If it was cold he made sure you had a sweater on before just in case or disregard his coldness by taking off his sweater and tenderly putting it on you (whilst grumbling and nagging for you to bring one, though Megumi would never admit so brazenly he loved seeing you in his clothes, that's his secret to keep.)
From across the way, Yuji and Nobara watch the spectacle going on at your table, it was very rare for you and Megumi to fight, you guys bickered for sure, you all did, but Megumi never lost his cool with you in those instances like he did with them. Usually if you fought it was over very serious things, like injuries on missions, mahoraga... the drawbacks of your technique on your body.. but never a serious argument on something so...stupid? Plus it wasn't in either of your introverted natures to display such a spectacle.
"What are those two screaming at each other about? I could've sworn I heard Fushiguro saying Nanamin's name a few times?" Yuji glances back at Nobara, his brown eyes curious as to what his favorite mentor had to do with your squabble, he takes a handful of fries while Nobara looks directly at her phone to take a photo, oblivious to her lack of fries.
"I'm thinking Fushiguro is jealous that his sweet little (y/n) has her eyes on someone else for once, but for him to throw a tantrum over a harmless crush on a mentor is a level of pathetic I never expected him to be on." Kugisaki stifles her laughter, brushing her auburn hair back, not so subtly eavesdropping on the argument.(not like she could help it, she's nosy plus you guys are hard to ignore right now)
"I could see why someone would for fall for Nanamin! He's a really a gentleman! Strong too! I'd feel threatened too if I was him. But doesn't he know (y/n) really likes him? They're super close like that" The pink haired boy states like it's a simple answer as any. Nobara rolls her eyes, annoyed at the men in her class.
"Fushiguro is emotionally constipated, he may not really understand that he has feelings for her because they've always been close, but because (y/n) is girl she's smarter and knows better! She's trying to get it out of him, twenty bucks says she gets him to confess by the end of today?" Nobara sticks her hand out to Yuji, he smiles a look for determination on his face as he shakes her hand.
"You're on! Twenty bucks says she gets him to confess here and now!" They both nod to seal their deal.
"What are you guys betting on?" A voice in their booth asks. The students squeak as Gojo makes his presence known, his face inquisitive and sly.
"That (y/n) is gonna get Fushiguro to confess his feelings! It's bound to happen!" Itadori explains.
Gojo sniffles at the response, sighing dramatically while putting a hand over his heart,collapsing wordlessly into the booth end face planting on the table, Yuji softly pats his teachers back for comfort,while Kugisaki rolls her eyes at the ridiculous scenes in front of her, she turns back to your table and gasps, phone falling out of her grip.
Gojo and Yuji immediately look up, jaws dropping in shock at the scene in front of them.
Megumi and you were standing away from your table,his hand on your waist, the other holding the side of your face as both your lips were gently pressed together, you on your tippy toes and arms around his neck. They witness the gentleness of the moment, both your eyes full of fondness,and affection as your lips separate. A pretty blush overtakes the atmosphere.
"Oh my babies! They're growing up too fast! One day they're destroying the house and trying to kill each other over strawberry milk then before you know it they're getting married!" Gojo babbles through escalating sobs, accepting the tissues Yuji's offered him and cries into said student's shoulders.
Nobara and Yuji share a questioning look on the qualifications of gojo being a parent and the nature of your childhood, Yuji comforts his sensei again,"Fushiguro and (y/n) are always gonna be your babies gojo! Honestly I'm j-just s-so I'm so proud of Fushiguro being so honest about his feeheeeliiiings" the pinked haired boy chokes through tears, wiping his runny nose on his uniform
Kugisaki looks at the two emotional men in disgust, opting to watch the romantic soap opera in front of her as a live studio audience member, smiling softly to herself, as though she wouldn't be as foolish as her sensei and friend to openly admit it, she was full of pride for you too! You'd been pining over Megumi for forever even though you weren't aware of it and you always described how you used to feel lonely until you met him and no matter what you guys go through you're always there-
"Those two are finally together I can't believe it!! I'm so happy!" the hazel eyed girl joins the huddle of Yuji and Gojo, tears flowing out her eyes. All of this goes ignored and unbeknownst to you and Megumi.
You smile brightly at the black haired boy, playing with the hairs behind his neck,"See Gumi, was that so hard to admit?" You tease him, he grunts, eyes squeezed shut in embarrassed annoyance.
He softly flicks your forehead, an old habit from middle school," Shut up... I didn't really know that's what that was...but now that you're mine, that means no more Nanami talk right? Or anyone that's not me for that matter.." pretty red flush stains his fair skin.
You giggle and kiss his cheek,"Hmmm I don't know Okkutsu is a reaaaaal cutie.." you pretend to ponder tilting your head in thought.
Megumi groans and kisses you again, more confident and stern,"You're an absolute pain."
"Don't worry Gumi you're my only and favorite one. I've always been yours silly." You wink, a pink blush dusting the both of you again. Megumi presses a chaste kiss, holding your hand and grabbing both your bags to get ready to leave for training after your longer than intended lunch, you're interrupted by a deep,polite voice.
"(y/l/n),Fushiguro, my apologies for bothering you both, I just wanted to quickly speak to Miss (y/l/n), here this is research I found on techniques similar to your own and information about its users.. I hope the information is helpful to you in your journey as a sorcerer." Nanami hands you a few books with various note tabs sticking out of them. You stare at it wide eyed, stunned and excited to learn more about your technique... and how much time and effort it took a busy man like Nanami to do...Seriously, what a gentleman...
You bow in appreciation,blush reappearing, "Thank you Nanami, I'm sure this will be very insightful!" the man smiles back and nods,"Of course, be sure to let me know what else you may want to know.That being said I've taken enough of your guys' time, goodbye for now."
Megumi scoffs, irritation palpable at his senior,"Tch. Whatever womanizer."He tugs at your hand and drags you away quickly to the exit and as far away from the dashing gentleman of a sorcerer. Damn...he's good.
As you're walking you smack his shoulder in reprimand,"gumi that was rude! you're always gonna be brat who does whatever he wants!" you're scolding him but it's in between giggles and the most loving soft gaze he's used to seeing in your eyes, now that he knows what it is, it makes him shy. He kisses your face as a distraction to your lecture (fat chance.)
And what could Megumi say, you make him crazy, he's always gonna be put his foot down for what's his. He silently kisses the back of your hand like a guilty puppy.
he'll apologize to nanami soon
.
.
.
Taken aback Nanami blinks in confusion,"Womanizer?" he repeats. Megumi's vengeful words replay in his mind, unable to figure out an explanation.
He looks back at Itadori's table when the sound of rambunctious laughter invades the dining hall, confused hazel eyes hidden behind his opaque lenses.
"Why are you laughing?"
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I hope you guys liked my first work on here!! This was written on a whim with no specific outline (explains the inconsequential lore dump as this is one shot or who knows!!) hope you guys love jealous and bratty Megumi. As calm and collected as he is I imagine when hes in love so many emotions come up he doesn't know how to define them or properly communicate them so he says the first thing his brain tells him even when he himself knows rationally its crazy to say or think.
#megumi x reader#fushiguro megumi fluff#megumi fushiguro x reader#fushiguro megumi x reader#jujutsu kaisen megumi#megumi fushiguro#megumi x you#nanami is so cool#dad gojo#jujutsu kaisen imagines#megumi fushiguro imagine#strawberry milk is a religious figure#it was not water into wine
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Rockstar!Eddie Munson x Actress!reader
Best friends to lovers
Series masterlist
A/n: thank you for those who stuck around and still love these two as much as I do.
Warnings: Reader is healing from domestic abuse and a car accident, injuries mention, alcoholism and drug addiction.
Chapter Fourteen: I Wanna Get Better
November 1992
“There’s only one bed.”
His voice was solemn, worried. Like he expected you to panic.
“Eddie, that is hardly the end of the world.”
Eddie’s head snapped up to look at you, argument ready.
You held up a finger to silence him.
“We have slept in the same bed more times than I can count, probably more times than I’ve slept on my own . Why is it a big deal now? Because I know for a fact that you know that I know you snore.”
You walked to the bed, one hand on the wooden four poster frame and the other running over the soft white comforter.
“Because you’re supposed to have your own space. You’re supposed to be healing,” he argued, voice whining slightly, the way it always did when he knew he was losing an argument.
It was strange how much you remembered about Eddie. The little things about him stayed tattooed in your memories. But it wasn’t like you still felt close to Eddie. Your time apart had made him feel like a stranger to you and it was a strange feeling of discomfort that skated across your skin when you realized that this stranger probably knew everything about you too.
You brushed those thoughts aside as you looked at the plush bedding. The hours of traveling and your injuries were catching up to you. You still ached head to toe and you could feel your eyes growing heavier and heavier by the moment the longer you stood beside the bed with the promise of comfort before you.
“Do you need to rest?” Eddie asked, and you nodded quickly before pulling down the bed sheets and climbing into the bed without even changing your clothes.
“I’m just gonna take a really quick nap,” you mumbled. You drifted away before he even had the chance to respond.
—
It was dark in the house when you opened your eyes again.
And for a moment you panicked before you realized where you were and what had happened to you. He hated when you napped. He always said it was lazy. You would probably would have been tired enough to fall back asleep but the fight or flight rushing through you had you sitting up in the bed and searching the room for Eddie.
You had half expected to see him standing in the same spot as you left him.
You slowly climbed out of the bed, stepping lightly enough not to irritate the injury in your ribs.
You didn’t have the time to explore the bedroom that would be yours and Eddie’s for the next unforeseeable future. The planner in you hated that you had no plan at all.
But Eddie had asked you to trust him to take care of you. So you were going to do that even if he had let you down before. Trusting him was all you were able to do now.
Your feet met the hardwood floor when you stepped off the plush rug that sat under the four poster bed. You shuffled to the window, pulling back the sheer curtain slightly. You half expected to see a line of cameras waiting for you but all you were met with was the moon shining on the water and the glistening sand right outside the window.
Eddie had brought you to a little beach town in Rhode Island. From what you could see from it on the ride over was that it was small and charming.
All you could do was hope that no one found out where you were. The news would die down eventually. People had short memories and they would move on to something else at some point but that point in time was a mystery to you.
You saw a wave roll into shore and you knew that despite how beautiful it looked that the air would be freezing with the coldness that came along with November in the north.
After finding a bathroom with an impressive jacuzzi tub that you knew was going to feel amazing when you had the energy to get into it, you wandered off to find Eddie.
You found him writing in a journal, sprawled out across the tan couch in the center of the living room. He had the curtains drawn so he couldn’t see the outside world, or more importantly it couldn’t see him.
His brows were furrowed as he wrote with one hand and flicked something between his fingers on the other hand; it had to be a guitar pic.
“You’re awake,” he stated, snapping this journal shut and sliding the pic into his pocket. “You want something to eat? They stocked the kitchen for us with all of your favorites.”
You could tell when he was hiding something.
“What were you writing? Corroded Coffins next hit?” You teased, trying to hide the tension that was smoking up the room. Was it hard to breathe for Eddie or just you?
You padded across the room and sat on the opposite end of the couch.
Eddie looked away from you and you could tell by the way his shoulders stiffen that he didn’t want to say what he was about to.
“Corroded Coffin is taking a break.”
The tone of his voice made you think that it wasn’t as temporary as he was trying to portray, nor was it seeming like it was his decision at all.
“A break?! Why? Because you’re here with me? Eddie, you built Corroded Coffin yourself. They can’t force you out because for once you’re not touring or partying with them and god forbid you just take a break for once in your life. I can’t believe this! I mean who-”
“Breathe, breathe,” Eddie reminded you with his hands up in the air, ushering you to calm down.
“You’re jumping to conclusions….sort of. I’m going to tell you something that I’ve been trying to figure out how to tell you and I didn’t think I would have on our first day here but, damn it, you know how hard it is to keep secrets from you. I should’ve figured you would force the truth out of me eventually.” He fiddled with the guitar pic that he had pulled from his pocket and you watched as it smoothly guided through his fingers.
You nodded for him to keep going, knowing that if you interrupted he would probably force this conversation down something completely random just to get out of saying what he needed to.
“I…have a problem. And it’s taken me a long while to admit it. This trip isn’t just for you to heal but me too. The partying lifestyle finally caught up to me while me and you weren’t speaking and I became addicted…to a lot of things. The band kicked me out because I went too far and embarrassed them during an interview and I really am trying to be better. I went to a short stay at a rehab and I’ve been clean for a little over six months,” he admitted, holding out the guitar pic to you that wasn’t even a pic at all, but a 6 month sobriety coin.
“I let you down. I let the band down. I let Wayne down,” he continued. “And even now that I’m back on track the guys won’t answer my calls and at the hospital was the first time I had the guts to even speak to Wayne and I just feel like there are a million ways to tell you how fucked up I am now.”
You blamed yourself. If you had been there instead of parading around town with Collin then you would have been able to stop this, to help reel Eddie in when things went too far. Even you knew that thought was ridiculous. There was no such thing as reeling Eddie in. The man had always fought against control, even from you.
“I don’t know what to say,” you admitted. There were a lot of thoughts bouncing around your head, all of which you wanted to scream. You wanted to yell and hit and break things but you also wanted to grab Eddie and hug him. You wanted to tell him that he would never have to fall to that dark place again because you would always be there to turn on the light for him.
But you couldn’t say that to him because even you were able to note that the time apart had taken a toll on the both of you. Were you still close enough that you could hug him now? Or is that only a privilege people who are truly close with him can have?
“Just say something,” he practically begged.
“I’m so proud of you for getting help,” you told him, deciding that a hug would be too far so you placed your hand on his instead. He welcomed your touch, sandwiching your hands between his.
He released a shaky breath and let go of your hands to slide the coin back into his pocket.
“Eddie Munson, I think you and I have some healing to do,” you finally said.
And Eddie smiled.
#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson au#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson#eddie munson imagine#eddie munson x you#eddie stranger things#eddie munson angst#eddie munson series#rockstar!eddiemunson x actress!reader#rockstar!eddie x reader#rockstar!eddie munson#rockstar!eddie munson x reader
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warmth | art donaldson + patrick zweig + black fem reader (a snippet)
i miss posting on here real bad and i keep teasing things (christopher moltisanti, richie jerimovich) and not actually writing/releasing them SO i'm putting this snippet of this oneshot i'm writing to encourage myself to actually put this out.
i think this will probably have multiple parts because the tension needs to builddd. and please, let me know y'alls thoughts!!! what do you think, what do you predict is gonna happen, r u thirsting adequately, etc. i love hearing your little comments <333
& let me know if you’d wanna be tagged when this comes out
essentially: reader, patrick and art were childhood best friends who conveniently were all in love with each other, or at least had enough sexual tension to make it feel that way. fast forward almost a decade later, and reader has made it onto the red carpet with her fantastic pen, and patrick and art have gone pro. when she invites them to her house for a star-studded friendsgiving, tensions rise and old doors open, springing forth new possibilities. this is only the beginning.
✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩
warmth
“We should just turn around now, save ourselves the embarrassment.”
Patrick paid Art no mind, rolling down the window and leaning out of it, pressing the buzzer as you had dutifully instructed them in your email invite.
“Too late now. Already threw away about a gallon of gas just coming up the hill to this place,” he replied, the sense of ease in his voice only egging Art on even more.
“Exactly why we should leave. I mean, fuck. Does she have to live on a hill?”
“Residence of [last name], to whom am I speaking?” a male voice rings on the other end.
“Uh…” Patrick starts, Art reaching up over him,
“Patrick Zweig and Art Donaldson?”
A silence filled the air. Patrick swatted at Art, forcing him back in his seat.
“Why’d you say it like a question, dumbass?”
Art stammered, already starting to get red in the face,
“I was --”
The gate swung open and both the boys let out a sigh of relief.
“Thank you!” Patrick chimed, smirking at Art, who seemed to be sinking in his seat.
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Meanwhile, you were inside the mansion that you call home, flowing around the kitchen like there weren’t about fifty people milling about and mingling amongst one another. It smelled like something out of Hansel and Gretel -- from the fragrant brown roasted turkey sitting in the oven, to the gourmand scent of perfectly caramelized candied yams, to the vanilla musk perfume you dotted on your wrists. A black mini Schnauzer nipped excitedly at your feet as you added half a cherry tomato to the giant bowl of salad you’ve been prepping for the last twenty minutes. You look like a pro, like a party of this magnitude is no big deal to you.
✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩
“Do we ring the doorbell? Or maybe… should we knock?” Art questioned, hands tied behind his back as he glanced up at Patrick for answers.
“It’s open,” Patrick retorted, but he too stood stupefied at the door, like a weary traveler wavering in horrific awe before the mouth of some epic beast.
“On three?” Art suggested, and when he didn’t hear a response, he started to count, “one… two…”
Patrick stepped in before Art could get to three. Art scoffed, but followed behind him anyway.
The two of them stood there silently, taking the grandiosity of it all in — the sky-high dome ceiling, two grand wooden staircases directly opposite one another, the shiny verdant porcelain flooring, the Basquiat painting hanging above the wide bookcase directly in front of them. Mouths open, they looked like they were ready to catch flies.
“Fuuuck me,” Patrick breathed out heavily. Art’s head was stuck staring up at the ceiling, so high he thought it’d never end.
“You made it.”
Both Art and Patrick seemed to stand straight at the sound of your voice, like soldiers at attention. You almost laughed, but instead you stood there coolly, smiling at them both with your lips and your eyes— in them, a look that was almost knowing, wise beyond your years. It seemed like a lifetime before either of them would speak. They spent half that lifetime practically gawking at you, drinking you in. And how could they not, when you were draped in that cream-colored silk dress, the flowy bottom dancing above your ankles. You looked more beautiful than they remembered you, calmer, secure — of course, they hadn’t seen you since they were teenagers. Now there was this air of timelessness about you that was only just poking at the surface when you were in high school. Now it surrounded you. Something mystic encompassed your entire spirit, dripping from your head to your feet. They’d spent years seeing you from behind a screen, being interviewed on live TV, attending red carpets for award shows, blending in with the Hollywood mecca — another beautiful twenty-something industry talent. But the glow of the television that seemed to give everyone a perfectly filtered sheen was nothing compared to your beauty here.
“It’s so good to see you,” Patrick broke the silence first, practically lurching forward with open arms to embrace you. His beard scratched against your cheek. You could smell the cologne that was beginning to wear off, mixed with a hint of cigarette smoke. His arms nearly suffocated you.
When he pulled away, you couldn’t help but chuckle at the way he smiled at you so fervently.
“Good to see you too, Patrick…” you glanced over at the mousy boy who didn’t seem to have changed much since high school. “C’mere, Artie.”
Art chuckled: a nervous huff of relief, inching forward into your open arms and nuzzling his chin into your shoulder, closing his arms around your midwaist. You could smell the aftershave that still clung to his face, and the detergent still fresh from his clothes.
You pulled away, but took one of each of their hands, squeezing.
“My two boys. Man, how long has it been?”
“Oh, just a while—”
“Seven years,” Art interjected.
“Who’s counting, right?” Patrick grinned, making all of you laugh.
You looked at them almost expectantly, eyes wide like a doe, the slightest smile playing at your lips. They looked back with bated breaths. Always, you were in charge, always. It had been like this since the scabby-kneed days of childhood. If you wanted to play on the swings, they were there on either side of you. You were the queen of the sandbox. In middle school, they snuck extra cookies for you from the lunchroom and fought over who got to surprise you with the treat every day. Senior year of high school, in the hotel room in London, when you had them perched on either side of you like baby birds waiting for mother’s return— when you had both your hands on each of their thighs, had them panting like puppy dogs, inching your hands further and further only to leave the minute you heard “lights out.”
It had been seven years since then and still, it was the same. Only this time, you were stupidly rich, thanks to the soaring success of your two psychological thriller books turned TV series. It wasn’t that you’d forgotten about them, or didn’t care about them now that you were rich and famous. You’d gotten accepted to study creative writing at Brown, Art went to play at Stanford, and Patrick went on his path to go pro. You were delighted to see that they were only a click away thanks to the internet, just one click away from being reintegrated into your life. Your childhood best friends.
“C’mon, lunch is almost ready.”
Friendsgiving. Who didn’t love the concept? It was a readily welcomed, wholesome idea — friends of all ages and backgrounds coming together to rehash their Thanksgiving with leftovers, stories from the year, and maybe a game of cards. Except your friendsgiving was attended by A-list actresses, Cannes festival attending screenwriters, and the odd Grammy-nominated artist. And your friendsgiving was not at all an intimate affair — it may as well have been a club party. Most people were outside, dancing, shrieking with laughter, drinking, and skipping their way to their seats. Your backyard was vast and verdant green, with a pool in the center, the perimeter lined with lemon and peach trees, and miles to explore.
“This is fucking insane, is that Dakota Johnson?” Patrick scoffed. He and Patrick had been left to their own devices yet again, while you flitted around being the hostess with the mostest, easing and gliding about. A laugh here, a clink of glasses there, and a coolness to you that stood in striking comparison with the warmth that stirred deep down inside you. A warmth that could be served with a ladle into goblets, like some elixir with magical properties only you possessed.
“No, you idiot, that’s— oh shit. That might be Dakota Johnson.”
Clink clink clink.
“Everybody, hi, hi! Thank you for coming, please, sit down,” you called out, clinking your glass to get the attention of your guests. Patrick and Art scrambled to find seats, ending up at a table with people who might have been minor celebrities or art critiques or designers -- at least one of those options.
“I wanna thank you all so much for coming, this really means a lot to me. I know these sorts of things can be really hectic, but you guys make this house feel like a home. I’m glad that some of you will be staying with me for the next few days, there’s always room for more,” you glanced over at Art and Patrick. “Some of you are new friends, some of you I’ve known for far too long. But I think it’s incredibly fucking cool that we’re all here together now in this moment, just enjoying each other’s presence. I do this every year, and every year I meet even more amazing, talented, fascinating people and you all are so dear to my heart. And now, what we’re all waiting for… lunch is served!”
A cacophony of cheers rang out as staff rushed about to place plates in front of everyone. You stood giggling, basking in all of it. Patrick and Art couldn't help but watch on with deeply impressed smiles — you were meant to bask: in glory, in pleasure, in everything. You looked just right standing where you were.
The rest of the afternoon Patrick and Art spent attempting to blend in as best they could. They were pro tennis players, but this was another level of stardom that they couldn’t quite fathom yet. They watched you ruthlessly the entire night, unable to squash those rising feelings of attraction and yearning for you that had never quite simmered to begin with. You’d always been cooler than them, but watching you now there was a certain air to you that belonged to a grown woman, someone comfortable and confident and in their element. You were positively swimming in the sunlight the entire afternoon. It was like you had this sort of magnetic pull to all things good, rich, and warm. People wanted to be around you. And god, did this prove that.
By night time, people were finally starting to leave. The sun hung low in the darkening sky, making the fairy lights glow stronger now. The few people that were staying with you for the rest of Thanksgiving weekend had disappeared to their rooms. Besides the waitstaff still milling about, clearing the tables, it was just you, Patrick, and Art. The two of them hadn’t meant to stay so long, really. It wasn’t like they were forcing themselves to stick around and be acknowledged by you in a way that felt meaningful. Sure, you’d had your small talk and cracked a few inside jokes, but as much as neither wanted to admit it, they needed more. If it was hard to get your attention before, it was nearly impossible now. They were surrounded by so many people who all wanted to network and talk and introduce themselves, they found themselves mingling with your friends, some of them people who they’d seen on screen in the past year, more than you. They’d been dragged onto the dance floor multiple times by multiple acquaintances, only to gawk at you swaying your hips rather than actually dance themselves. It became overwhelmingly clear, in their increasingly present desperation, that they should’ve accepted your offer to stay in this castle of a house for the weekend. Neither of them had packed a bag.
“This is awkward, we’re the only ones left,” Art sighed, still sitting at their table.
“Let’s just… wait, okay? She might come back out."
"And give us a little speech?"
"Yeah, asshole, maybe she will."
At that very moment, you appeared again, this time clad in a two piece linen pajama set. You didn’t miss the way both their eyes trailed up your legs as you stood in front of them, arms crossed, smiling expectantly.
“I was hoping you two would still be here,” you said. You glanced between the two of them, that awkward silence filling the air once again. “C’mon. Let’s talk.”
You turned and walked back inside, the two of them trailing behind you.
"Your house is fucking sick by the way. I mean holy shit," Art blurted once you got to the main entrance hall.
"Feel like I just walked into a page of Architectural Digest," Patrick added on.
You led them up the stairs. Both their eyes dropped to your ass, which poked out just a bit from under the pair of shorts you wore. Silently watching the way your body curved as you walked.
"Ha, thanks. I think I did pretty okay for myself," you replied.
You led them to the den on the second floor and sat criss cross apple sauce on the lush green couch. Art sat on your left, Patrick on your right. Patrick spread his legs and Art had one foot up on the couch, bouncing against his knee.
“Sorry we didn’t get to talk much. I was so busy being the host of the year that I didn’t pay enough attention to you two. My favorites.”
Art chuckled,
“Favorites? You’re just saying that.”
“No, I’m serious! D’you know how much I missed you guys?”
Patrick scoffed playfully,
“All those TV interviews I watched of you? I wouldn’t even be thinking about us.”
You couldn’t help but grin, that warmth coming through once again. It nearly made the two men melt.
“Well I was. I always think about you guys.”
Now came Patrick’s voice again, a heaviness to it that almost made you jump,
“Do you think about anything specific?”
Although it had been nearly a decade since you’d last seen each other, you didn’t miss a single thing about either of them. Patrick didn’t mince words, and he never shied away from not just hinting at, but blaring his salacious intentions every time he spoke. You tilted your head towards him, a cool smile tugging at your lips.
“Just what good times we had.”
A silence, accented with a flood of nostalgia and a pointed reference to those “good times” permeated the air. You took a moment to gaze at the two of them ever so softly — enough for them to feel it, but not enough to make them squirm (though, they were easy to make squirm) — before you decimated the silence by slapping your hands down on either of their thighs and squeezing endearingly.
“So tell me, where’ve you two been? I’m not the only one on TV these days.”
“Ahh, you don’t wanna hear about boring tennis,” Art waved a hand of dismissal.
You chortled, a trademark of yours that Art and Patrick had always poked fun at in school,
“You’re right, I don’t.”
“You still laugh the same,” Patrick said, grinning like he was trying not to but was unable.
You chuckled, this time low in your throat, and turned your head to face him again. You and Patrick were similar in the sense that you were always pushing the boundaries, tiptoeing closer and closer to the line — but the three of you had never quite established where that was. At some point, you were all just too close to even think about “the line” or “boundaries” — all of you appeared clueless to societal expectations of friendship, spurting a sort of cultlike relationship where everyone else was an outsider.
“Do I?” smiling at him like you were warning him not to tease.
“Yeah, that little snort you do,” Patrick replied, unshaken.
“You do do a little snort,” Art chimed in, always chirping like he spoke from a less nefarious place.
“And if I get started on you guys’ little tennis grunts?” you grinned fully now, showing teeth, looking between the two of them and leaning back a bit.
They followed, leaning back against the couch and keeping their heads in line with yours so you were never too far away from them, each of them turning their heads to look at you.
“No way you actually watch us,” Art replied.
“I do!” you insisted. “Seriously, if you’d asked anybody here you would know.”
“Sure, let me just strike up conversation with George Clooney,” Art shot back.
“Ha-ha,” you bleated sarcastically. “I don’t even know him… but I have walked past him once on the carpet.”
“Look at you,” Patrick smirked. “Little Miss Superstar.”
He punctuated his sentence with a hand on your knee. Your eyes flickered over to him and you caught the way his Adam's apple bobbed in his throat when he swallowed, felt the way he gazed up at you. You didn’t miss the desire twinkling in his eyes.
Then Art, always second but not necessarily last,
“She’s our little superstar, you know that, right?”
His hand just gently grazing your shoulder.
You let them revel in the moment for as long as you felt appropriate, then huffed.
“You know you guys can stay for the weekend, right? I mean, you should.”
“Oh… no, we wouldn’t wanna impose,” Patrick said, his hand slinking away from your knee.
Another chortle from you, this time the kind that said everything about how you lived in comparison to them,
“You wouldn’t be. This is a five bedroom house. It’s fine. Besides, don’t you guys wanna actually catch up? I’ll let you torture me with tennis talk.”
Art started to stammer,
“I-I mean… we didn’t bring anything.”
“Just our idiot selves,” Patrick added.
“Don’t worry. I’ll get Charles to get you guys all set up.”
“Charles?”
“Oh, he’s my assistant,” you said nonchalantly, as if it were nothing. “You’re not fighting me on this. I want to spend some quality time with my boys. Don’t make me have to beg for it.”
“We could never make you beg for anything,” Art replied, just a little too quickly.
“I know, Art, that’s why I love you,” you grinned over at him. “So, are we all in agreement? Stay with me. Just this weekend.”
“Yes,” they both replied a little too quickly this time.
You bit your lip, suppressing a smile.
“You know… I really, really missed you guys. And those good times we had.”
You let the memory of that night of almosts in London resurge, let their minds run amuck with whatever teenage fantasy was still left over from that night. A moment so brief it could almost be forgotten, could even be flagged as incidental, accidental, but the three of you knew, even as grown adults (especially as grown adults), that it would always stick and remain unresolved, unless someone ran to the rescue with some sort of solution. Once again they held their breaths. You stood up, glanced between the two of them like you were sizing them up, and then smiled as if nothing had happened at all — you let them breath.
“Your bedroom’s the second on the right when you leave here. Charles will help you get set up— I’ll see you guys in the morning for breakfast.”
And just like that, you were gone. The air in the room seemed to clear. Your presence was like a thousand tons of pressure weighing on their bodies and their minds. Finally, they could breathe.
They glanced at each other with the same longing, almost nervous expression — high school all over again.
✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩
eek let me know what y'all thought. i wanna finish it by this week <3
#challengers#challengers smut#challengers fic#patrick zweig smut#patrick zweig#art donaldson#art donaldson smut#art donaldson imagine#patrick zweig imagine#x reader#x black reader#patrick zweig x reader#patrick zweig x black reader#art donaldson x reader#art donaldson x black! reader
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I’d like to be optimistic and say this will be short and sweet, however it has grown increasingly apparent that I do nothing by half measures. I suppose if you’re going to do a job - do it properly. Go big or go home, right?
I’m trying to learn how to set healthy boundaries, which is extremely challenging for an empath that feels everything as deeply as I do and has been through the things that I’ve been through. I suppose my need to people please stems from wanting to help and lighten the load in anyway possible for the people I care deeply about at the expense of my own peace. It’s even more unbearable when I have walked in their shoes with and know what it’s like when you have nowhere to turn to, unfortunately helping doesn’t always go the way I intend but at-least I can say I tried and gave it my all, and by doing so leaves my conscious clear and unburdened. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve had my fair share of awful things in my life, some worse than others and some that have left lasting scars that I’m still sowing up- but I actually quite like me, however I acknowledge that there’s always room for improvement. I have a long list of things that I can’t change but would happily sell my soul to the devil to alter. I’m slowly coming to terms with the fact that some things aren’t meant to be changed and that no response is a response. Let’s be honest, you can’t be everyone’s cuppa tea otherwise you’d be a mug.
You ever known what you needed to do but struggled to find the strength to do it? That’s the current predicament I’m faced with. The past few weeks I’ve had a lot of time to digest and reflect on the changes that have happened in my life - recent and not so recent changes. Up until recently, I considered myself to be a healed woman but I realise now that healing isn’t a linear path and the more I experience different things, the more I realise I’m still on that healing journey - and that’s ok, being honest with myself about it is probably the best thing I can do. I like to think I always look for best in people, that I can feel the good in them. But like with anything in this universe, there must be balance and everything that goes up, must come down eventually... I see the undesirable and distasteful flaws too, I don’t look at the world through a looking glass and I’m not as naive as some people may choose to believe. I have this uncanny ability to read people like books, and without a doubt my silence gets mistaken for an absence of knowledge, when it’s quite the opposite in fact. I’m a firm believer that you shouldn’t open your mouth and comment on something unless you know it’s accurate and have the ability to back it up. So with that statement, if you are on the receiving end of me opening my mouth about a subject, then prepare to be slapped with the unbias, and unadulterated truth - which as we know, can be more cold and callous than any lie. Everything I do, I do for a reason. I strategically and methodologically analyse every situation and every possible outcome of it so I am able to understand it but ultimately protect myself. One of my favourite quotes is that ‘the truth always prevails in the end’ and boy does it ever.
It grows more evident the older I get that this ability I have to read people is an unconscious decision that stems from being hyper vigilant. It does present its problems though, like causing the feeling of being constantly stuck between the stages of fight, flight or freeze, it’s a blessing and a curse - one would say oxymoronic at its true core. Life has always been so black and white for me, and learning grey has been exhausting, both mentally and physically but truly worth it in hindsight. Im allowing colour to trickle back into my life slowly though and it’s given me the foresight to see the world (and the people in it) in a different light, just like a kaleidoscope. Up until a few years ago, I was always so sure of the person I was, but the past few years really made me question everything I know about people… myself included. I got hurt by people that I never thought were capable of the things they did, and lost people that I thought would be in my life indefinitely. Some things have become so deeply imbedded in my soul that they occasionally weep, so I guess you could say nothing ceases to surprise me anymore. I always say that I’m going to hope for the best and prepare for the worst but preparing for the worst has become somewhat of a ritual for me and I grow evermore cautious of hope with each passing day.
Without a doubt, the biggest and hardest pill to swallow as of recent months has been that not everyone has a good heart just because I do. More importantly, just because I treat people with kindness, understanding and compassion, doesn’t mean I’ll receive the same treatment back. I’ve realised that over the past few weeks that it reflects more about them and their character, than it does me. Not everyone has the same moral compass as me, nor everyone has a big heart full of love like me and some people are only interested in saving their own skins - don’t get me wrong, there’s nothing wrong with protecting your peace. But there’s a difference between protecting your peace and remaining silent and then lying and stonewalling those individuals, especially when they try to communicate in a healthy way with you about a problem. We all mess up, but I think what’s important is owning your behaviours. It’s come to my attention that not everyone I’ve crossed paths with have spent the time looking at their own maladaptive coping mechanisms. They haven’t given themselves the respect to understand or recognise where the dysregulation stems from, and as a direct result from that, it allows for an inability to correct their behaviour at its root stem and be better in the future - so they are just stuck in the same cycles. I’ve realised that you can lead a horse to water but you can’t make them drink, and if this is the bed they chose to make then let them sleep in it. Theres nothing wrong with feeling emotions in that precise moment though and giving yourself time to sit in your grief, but I emphasise that no joy ever comes from wallowing in them for prolonged periods of time and there is a time where you will have to deal with those feelings and situations head on before they swallow you whole.
I think for now I’ll enjoy sitting back, remaining humble and continue to people watch. They say time heals all wounds but I think time only gives us the ability to reflect and process those wounds. If we don’t deal with the monsters under our beds, and the damage they cause to ourselves and others, then they never really go away - they just get better at hiding by wearing a mask. Inevitably, they always trickle back in and just like clockwork, they always come full circle. Poetically, it’s always at the least desirable moment and before you know it, you’re weeping through the cuts you scrambled so desperately to bandage. The right path is not always the path with least resistance, we all know what we need to do but it’s just finding the strength to do it. You really do get back what you put into the universe.
#Healing#people pleaser#heartbreak#trauma#therapy#abuse survivor#mental health#positive mental attitude#psychology#mental illness#friendship breakup
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Classified
It’s Schrödinger’s wedding.
1952 Words / Prompt: Jealousy
We’re sitting among the boxes of invitations, the venue’s brochures, and several dozen napkins folded into Sydney Opera Houses. John looks exhausted, and now that Mary’s gone home, I’ve suggested a break.
I pour John a glass of scotch and hand it to him, struggling for the right words to open this discussion. If I’m not careful, it could end badly.
Sinking into my chair, I simply say, “Don’t.”
John swallows a mouthful of whisky. “Don’t what?”
He looks confused. Of course. I’m terrible at this. Sentiment, feelings, honesty.
“Don’t… marry her.”
John sighs. “Sherlock.”
“Please, John. Just don’t.”
Confusion has given way to stubbornness, and of all people, John Watson is the most stubborn person I’ve ever known. It’s hopeless, ridiculous that I even brought this up. But it has to be said.
That night at the Landmark, when John was trying to strangle me, I promised myself that I would stop lying to him. Stop shading the truth. Just be honest. Who deserves the truth more than John, who grieved for two years, thinking his best friend was dead?
Best friend. More than I ever expected to have from this stubborn, loyal, surprising man who has always followed me, even after I broke his heart. He deserves the truth.
And I deserve nothing. But I can’t let the man I love be hurt again, even if it means… well, I hope this won’t be our last conversation.
“What is this about?” John’s face wears that dogged expression.
“I love you,” I begin. “And I’ve hurt you too much to pretend this is fine.”
John’s eyes widen, then narrow. “You love me. What am I supposed to do with that?”
“You called me your best friend. I don’t care what you make of it—“
“You don’t do feelings. Married to your work, grit on the lens—“
“You’re not the only one who’s grieved, John. Yes, I do have feelings. And I would be prepared to set them aside, to accept that I do not deserve your love, but I owe you the truth.”
“You love me.”
It’s bad enough that John seems to be stuck on you love me. That isn’t even the point right now. (Note to self: next time, lead with your wife-to-be is probably an assassin.)
“Yes. Which is why I’m about to tell you the last thing you want to hear right now.”
“I’m about to get married, Sherlock! Why are you doing this now— you’ve never given me the tiniest clue that you even considered me a friend. I don’t have friends. Remember that? What is this— are you jealous? Is that what this is about?”
I’m terrible at this. I’ve vowed to be honest, not to keep John in the dark all the time, and all John is taking from this is that I’m jealous.
I try again. “You’re about to marry a woman you don’t know. A woman who is lying to you.”
Now John’s wearing his isn’t this ironic face. “Oh, well, I suppose I should be used to people who love me lying to me! You’ve given me plenty of practice, you know.”
“I realise my apology for that is inadequate. I understand that you will never return my feelings, and I will live with that. I’m not jealous. Marry whomever you want, John— just not her. She’s not who she claims to be. I’m telling you this because I believe you’re in danger.”
“All right, then.” Still angry, but also curious. “Tell me. Who is she?”
“I don’t know yet. I do know that she’s not Mary Morstan, who was stillborn in 1972 and buried in Chiswick Cemetery. The night I met her, I deduced that she’s hiding something, so I went to Mycroft. While I was gone, he was supposed to keep an eye on you because we believed Moriarty’s organisation might still take action against you. When I realised that she was not who she said she was, I gave him an earful for letting an unknown close to you.”
“And what did he say?”
“Nothing. He wouldn’t tell me anything about her. Classified. Which tells me most of what I needed to know. He knows exactly who she is, which suggests that she’s an agent of some sort, probably freelance. She may have done work for the British government, which would be how he knew her.”
He rolls his eyes. “You’re an agent of the government, I believe. Don’t even try telling me you weren’t working for your brother these past two years. Maybe she doesn’t have clearance to tell me what kind of work she did.”
“But she hasn’t even mentioned it, has she? She told you she’s a nurse. And she’s using a name that’s not her own. You’re marrying her, John— the fact that she’s assumed a false identity—“
“—means that she’s in some sort of witness protection. That she doesn’t have clearance to tell anyone.“ Annoyed, but not in denial. Uncomfortable now that he’s thinking about it.
“Mycroft would have said if that were the case. And he would have threatened me to keep my hands off. The fact that he’s said nothing means that she’s part of an active investigation. And most likely not currently working for the British government. If she were, he would have said.”
John is silent.
“Ignorance is not bliss, John. You made that point quite forcefully the night I returned.”
“She’s active?” He looks dazed.
“Mycroft wouldn’t say. But it’s not the kind of work anyone actually leaves behind.”
“And you’re telling me this now? You couldn’t have said sooner? Christ, we’ve started planning the wedding!” Angry again.
“I wasn’t sure. I’m more certain now, though.”
John has reached his limit. “I… I’ve got to go. I can’t deal with this now. Just… I’m going.” He grabs his coat, stuffs his arms in the sleeves, and marches out the door.
… (Continues below cut)
I return from buying milk (I really must be losing my mind if I’m going to the shops, but tea requires milk and sugar and Mrs Hudson is still showing her displeasure at my inexplicable return by not running errands for me) and find Mycroft sitting in my chair. He knows, of course, which chair is mine and which is John’s, and is making a statement whose meaning I can guess. Power dynamics: my chair.
Considering who’s paid the rent for the last two years, it actually is Mycroft’s chair. I make tea, hand a mug to Mycroft, and sit in John’s chair.
“Well, brother.” He gives me an appraising look.
I’m used to the evaluation; it happens every time I see my brother, that once-over to determine if (a) I’ve relapsed, (b) I’ve done something else Mycroft will regret, or c) I’m about to lie about something not covered under (a) or (b). The best way to side-track this is to get on his nerves.
“This is about John, isn’t it?” I blow on my tea. “Otherwise you would have called.”
“He came to see me yesterday, directly from seeing you. Asking what I knew about Mary Morstan. Now, where did he get the idea that she’d been lying to him, if not from you?”
“You didn’t swear me to silence.”
Mycroft sips his tea, but says nothing. He’s very good at keeping his own counsel.
“I asked him not to marry her,” I say. “I don’t have any real proof, other than what I told him, but reasoned that it would be better not to leave it until the last moment. I’m wondering, though, why you were willing to let it happen. You let her close to John, when it’s obvious she was planted in his surgery because of me.”
Mycroft smirks. “You don’t think it was Dr Watson’s charms that drew her to him?”
“Mary Morstan isn’t like the others. Who is she working for?”
“I don’t know.”
“But you can guess.”
“I’m not giving you an unfounded hypothesis, Sherlock. The matter is still classified.” He shifts in his seat, watching me, then relents a bit. “You’re not wrong about her. But we cannot afford to tip her off yet. The marriage will be invalid, of course.”
(Note to self: Kill Mycroft.)
“This should never have happened. John is not a chess piece, a thing to be sacrificed for your game. Now, go away. I don’t want to talk to you until you can give me some answers.”
Without a word, Mycroft stands, tucks his umbrella under his arm, glares at me, and leaves.
…
It’s night, and I’m walking. No particular destination, just around the park until I’m too tired to walk further.
When I finally open the door of 221B, John is sitting on the stairs.
He looks up at me, but doesn’t speak. And for once, I can’t read his look. Either he’s said something to Mary, or he hasn’t. She’s lied to him, or she’s told him the truth. He’s forgiven her or he’s broken it off.
It’s Schrödinger’s wedding.
I hang my coat by the door. He still hasn’t spoken, but budges over to make room for me.
“You said you love me.”
“Yes.”
“You promised not to lie.”
“I’m not lying. I do love you.”
“I mean, about Mary.”
“I spoke with Mycroft. She’s part of an active investigation, as I guessed. He wouldn’t give me details.”
“Jesus. And you love me.”
I feel his eyes on me, but say nothing. Either he accepts it, or he doesn’t.
“You told me you were married to your work. That’s a pretty clear signal you weren’t interested. Why did you say that?”
“Because I was a coward. And soon you were dating women, which was also a clear signal, and there wasn’t any point in bringing it up again.”
“When you say love, what do you mean?”
“I want you to be happy. If that’s with someone other than me, fine. But someone who’s lying to you cannot make you happy.”
He leans closer, his shoulder against mine. “And what would make you happy? If you could have anything you want?”
“A locked room triple homicide, no murder weapon.”
He gives a low chuckle. “Idiot. I mean, what do you want from me?”
“Whatever you’ll give me. I’m prepared to be your friend for life, if that’s what you want.”
“Nothing more? Just friends? Not romantic?”
No lies, not now. “Yes, I want more. I want you to live here, to sleep in my bed, yes— with all that entails. To never leave me. But I will take what I can—”
“Yes. All of it.”
It’s my turn to be silent.
He rubs his eyes. Sleepless night. “I told her I couldn’t marry her. You’d best let Mycroft know if he’s trying to suss her out. She’s already packing her bags.”
“Did she tell you what she is?”
“I didn’t ask. I just told her I was in love with you.”
I feel as if I’ve been punched in the gut. No, I feel like what I imagine when I think of kissing John. Breathless, heart-pounding.
“Are you in love with me?”
“I thought you knew.” He smiles, takes my hand in his own. “Yes, I am.”
My voice shakes. “And what did she say?”
“She already knew.” His smile broadening, John leans in.
The kiss is better than any I could imagine.
He doesn’t let go when it ends. “So, if I’d decided to marry her anyway…” He grins. “What was your plan for that?”
The truth. I promised. “I was going to kidnap you.”
He gives me a smouldering look. “You could still do that.”
(Note to self: I’m going to have to get used to John Watson’s love language.)
...
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Me Espresso.ᐟ
Lesbian in a band that loves her best friend groupie but is stuck at square one. Do u guys get my fire references in here, hope you babes enjoy 🍽️
Band!Ellie Bsf!ellie college!au
Hot summer nights while having your knees digging your weight into the carpet floor of your best friends small dorm room was starting to become weekly routine. Making band tees with cheap markers for her band that had its fair amount of supporters, somehow they’d sell out every time they performed. It was probably because there’d only be like 20 shirts that actually looked good enough to put out for sale.
Sitting next to you was Ellie with half of a bun she struggled to keep it together had some strands fall out and onto the back of her neck. You could smell the perfume on her, you convinced her to buy it that one time she’d agreed to come shopping with you. Wanting to be helpful you had to show her the right way to wear it, by spraying it on your wrist to then rubbing it into her collarbone, just to be helpful of course.
Holding up a finished shirt Ellie grins into the cocky face you’ve gotten to love the look of,
“Oh they’re gonna love this,”
“what your 300 Spotify listeners?”
“Ouch,” Ellie looks at you playing heartbroken to then throw the shirt right at your face. It was always banter like this, with the very few times the lines almost blurred to get somewhere further. Staying away gets harder when being with her was so natural.
“Just for that I’m so not coming to your concert tomorrow.”
“Hey hey hey I need my number one fan there, plus we’re getting ice cream after.”
You’d become a groupie to her, always front lining to every concert she was able to catch a venue in, which were basically all bars. When she’d look below to you under the neon lights playing guitar it felt like such a special moment only between you and Ellie. No crowd no other band mates, as if you knew what she was thinking of and that she wanted you too. Some of your plans started to circle around her now that she was being a bit more discovered.
”You aren’t going to talk to your fan girls?”
“Nah, I’d rather spend my time with you. You know?” Staring at each other awkwardly stopped being so awkward when they’d happen so much, it’s was perfectly normal.
And with opportunity you got to be with Ellie you already knew you’d take it. As little as you knew she was wrapped around with whatever you had been involved in too, stuck and feeding off your sweetness like a bee.
June.21.24
Just like every concert you shared your special moment, no one else can say they had Ellie’s direct attention during multiple songs. This time it was more of an outside stage with sand below you. Yellow hued string lights draped above the stage and more along the audience area. The heat was really getting to Ellie, making her glow from sweat. The black T-shirt she picked out only made her condition worse. The face framing bangs she cut herself were sticking to the side of her face.
She wasn’t even singing, but being under your watch scorched her hotter. To save herself from embarrassment she mainly looked down to her guitar playing notes, but she made a mistake looking at you when a lyric of a song she made with you in thought came up.
Tell me you never wanna lose me
Cuz I know when you call you call for me
She might’ve been a little out of it when helping writing the song, but it became too late when Dina saw the scrunched up paper and kept insisting on making it an official song for a newer album.
To you it was just another lyric that was written by anyone but Ellie. If only you knew how much she relates to your desperation to be with you in every way and any position she could. Whether your batting of eyelashes at her was intentional or not her finger slipped making an unplanned squeak slip through.
‘Fuck this is so bad she probably thinks I’m shit at playing now’
Lucky for Ellie it was the final song anyways and she could get far away from the crowd and you. Other people clapped upon their leave and when they finished their set list you knew exactly where to meet her.
”You ever going to do more than eye her when we’re up there?” Dina was putting away the instruments back to take home with help from Jessie.
“What are you even saying I don’t do that,” Ellie scoffs then sits down on a blue deflated bean bag that who knows how long it’s been in this back room.
“Oh you know what I’m talking about, your friend zone is taking longer than your time with Cat.” She crossed her arms waiting for another excuse to why she hasn’t done anything after a continued semi dating friendship since freshman year.
“She’s nothing like Cat that’s why, if I lose feelings for her after getting rejected that’s one thing but losing her completely because I fucked it up is different.” Her constant fear of never getting to be near you again because of some feelings she couldn’t stop screwed her over with overthinking everything.
In her journal it was the same thing, “She liked my shirt today, I don’t want to look weird and over wear it now, but not under wear it now. Unless she’d like to see it more often or maybe she likes my style in general she’d like me in anything?? Fucking hate this gay stuff and whys it so hard.”
One of the two large metal doors swings open with you appearing, with the smile you wore she had engraved into her mind with a hot rod of metal after sketching you a few more times she’d probably ever admit. Ellie got up and cut the short distance and accepted you into her arms trying to not look like a desperate looser that flushes over a simple hug. Her ears clammy hands didn’t make her look exactly so hot and relaxed though.
“You did amazing El’s,”
“You think so?” She lit up into a smile under your praise, no matter how many times you give it to her mind melts.
“Except for the part where she messed up on the bridge.” Ellie shot a quick mean look at Jessie, but he just turned a cold shoulder before turning away.
“At least I didn’t bump into Dina’s drums 10 times,”
While Ellie kept bickering back and forth with Jessie she still held onto you, this felt like an opening to try at doing something.
A kiss on the check seemed harmless and innocent enough to take back in the case Ellie thought it was totally disgusting. Raising your head up towards her cheek nearing the corners of her smile, pressing your lips to a pout Ellie brought her face back in your direction landing the small peck on her lips. Ellie locked in place while you pulled away, not that you wanted to, but felt too embarrassed to start a kiss you didn’t know how to finish.
“El’s ‘m so sorry, you just moved out of nowhere and-“
“No, yeah mistakes happen, it’s chill or whatever,”
Her shit faced expression wasn’t helping the full pink flush saturating deeper on her face. Ellie lowered her head to wipe the bottom of her nose trying to forget the way your lips felt, your lipgloss was still sweet on her and so was the taste of it on her tongue wiping her lips clean.
Now it was your turn to feel scared and conflicted. It was too silent in the room even with the chatter of everyone else doing their own things outside. Taking back the small kiss wasn’t so easy now that it was done and got taken up a notch further.
She dropped her arms from both of your sides, looking away from you because looking at you right now felt like looking directly into the sun.
“Ellie you should start up the car we’re done here,” Jessie throws the keys at her giving her a slight knowing look to let her go and collect herself back together.
She didn’t even say anything, walked away without a goodbye or convincing enough reassurance that would calm your nerves.
“I’m gonna go home too, see you guys.” You were left with only your actions to think about. Ellie’s response to an accidental kiss made her ran away in the other away how could’ve you imagined it going any of other way? Feeling guilt and shame were the only emotions you could feel, rethinking the crush you’ve denied yourself from paying attention to and that it should’ve stayed that way.
Instead of paying attention to the kiss Ellie let her actions drive themself, not wanting to think at all. Until she hit herself with the car door, why did I act so grossed out? Making different scenarios of how it could’ve played out a million times better she thrust the keys into the ignition.
She dug out her cracked old red iPhone from her butt pocket and threw it into the passenger side. It hit something else than the leather seat, one of the lipglosses you always carry around abandoned alone. Ellie reached for it and saw the shade label, Glassy Expresso.
It sounded like the taste in her mouth from earlier, a taste you stole from her too soon. Unscrewing the lid she contemplated just trying it on. My lips are dry anyways, she swiped the applicator across her lips twice to get an even coat and rubbed it in with her lips. Some of it slipped onto her tongue, again. If only the taste of you could come along with the gloss.
Lmk if you guys want a pt.2♡🍒
#ellie williams x reader#ellie williams x you#ellie x fem reader#ellie williams fanfiction#ellie williams#ellie x you#ellie williams fluff#ellie x reader#ellie tlou2#tlou2#lesbian
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— 1D Monthly Fic Roundup —
Hi, and welcome to the 1D Monthly Fic Roundup for May 2024! Below you’ll find 1D fics that were all published this month. We hope you’ll check out these new fics! If you would like to submit your own fic, please check this post on how to submit or visit our blog @1dmonthlyficroundup. You can find all our other posts here.
Happy reading!
＊ Ocean Wave Blues by babyhoneyhslt / @babyhoneyheslt [M, 49k, Louis/Harry]
After the gruesome death of his Alpha, Harry takes over as the Captain of the Rose Arrow. Trying his best to uphold her reputation as being the most dreadful pirate ship to sail the Seven Seas.
With the help of his alpha-quartermaster Niall, he manages to keep his secondary gender hidden from everyone except his most trusted crew, as he operates under his late Alpha’s name. Captain Payne.
Everything changes when his ship is taken hostage by Pirate Captain Louis.
To keep his crew, and himself, alive, Harry must play the part of dutiful Omega who’s waiting for his Alpha’s return.
＊ You Put the Boom Boom Into My Heart by @kingsofeverything [T, 5k, Harry/Louis]
Harry's been trying all summer to come up with a way to show Louis how much he means to him before he leaves for college.
Or five times Harry fails to win Wham! tickets and one time he succeeds.
＊ Into the Woods by @kingsofeverything [E, 2k, Louis/Harry]
Whenever he hikes, Harry keeps an eye out for trees with knots and scars that resemble buttholes. What started as fodder for his silly little Instagram account has become his favorite way to masturbate.
＊ A Book in the Ruins by magpielivingforglitter / @builtyouahousefromabrokenhome [M, 10k, Harry/Louis]
Harry randomly meets Louis, they eat food and read poetry, and it’s the zombie apocalypse.
＊ now i'm tracin' all my steps to you by @alwaysxlarrie [T, 5k, Louis/Harry]
Of all the things Harry was prepared for this summer, Louis Tomlinson and his wonderful, wonderful scent isn't one of them. It probably shouldn't be as shocking as it is that it makes Harry want to nest. There's only one slight problem -- Harry and nesting aren't exactly on familiar terms. At all.
This does not stop Harry from borrowing ("borrowing") Louis' things all throughout summer, though. Oops?
＊ just a couple of my cravings by YesIsAWorld / @louandhazaf [G, 3k, Harry/Louis]
Summer's just around the corner and Louis' battling his addictions... Cigarettes and Harry Styles.
＊ better latte than never by @disgruntledkittenface [M, 1k, Zayn/Harry]
Harry was looking forward to the coffee cart at work. Until the subject of the previous night's fantasies lined up next to him.
＊ I Like to Watch by larry_hiatus / @larry-hiatus [E, 9k, Louis/Harry, Louis/Zayn]
If there’s one thing Harry loves, it’s watching his husband Louis get fucked by other men. After picking up a lad called Zayn who is baffled by this concept, the three men are in for a wild night.
＊ Hope by @hellolovers13 [T, 2k, no pairing, Louis, Harry]
A father's desperate journey against time.
＊ On Love's Doorstep by @hellolovers13 [T, 1k, Harry/Louis]
Harry Styles: a day in the life
☑ Stuck in a dress
☑ Abandoned by his best friend
☑ Date with hot neighbour
All in all, not the worst day ever
＊ the very last drops of an ink pen by staybeautiful / @harruandlou [E, 47k, Louis/Harry]
The spoon made a hissing sound on the rim of his cup before he put it on his napkin. Sharp eyes met Harry’s over the table and Louis said, “So, we have a lot to talk about then.”
“How do you mean?” Harry blew on the foam at the top of his latte and let the heat of it warm his hands. Anxious energy curled down his arms as he waited for Louis to speak.
“Well, what are we doing about the business?” Louis picked up his mug and with his mouth against the lip of it, added, “Or are you going to leave that too?”
Against his will, his cheeks flushed in annoyance and Harry snapped, “Of course I fucking won’t.”
Or just after midnight on Harry's 30th birthday, he realizes he can't do another year without change. So, he forces it. Breaking up with Louis might have hurt less if they weren't co-owners of Studio 28, living within walking distance of each other, and if he wasn't the thing Harry was most afraid of losing. Secluding themselves on their shared estate in an attempt to save their working relationship may shed a light on where everything else started going wrong. And perhaps give them a chance to fix it.
＊ don't be afraid to love (and love again) by localopa / @voulezloux [E, 83k, Louis/Harry]
All Louis’ life, he’s known he’s been different. There’s always been something at odds about how he felt.
As the eldest daughter of seven kids, he knew something was wrong with his body. Something was off, he just couldn’t quite put his finger on it. His mum dressed him in dresses and tights, plaits in his hair as he wandered around with the local neighborhood boys. They called him a girl, called him she and Rosemary when his name is Louis. He had told the boys as such, but they would tell him Louis is a boy’s name, not a girl’s.
Louis is a boy. He knows he is.
or the one where louis is trans and afraid, harry is cis and brave, and being 100% yourself is easier said than done.
＊ Pacify Her by yeah_alright / @uhoh-but-yeah-alright [E, 2k, Harry/Louis]
Harry's anxiety is acting up. Louis has the only thing that will soothe her.
OR Louis' pussy is the ultimate pacifier.
＊ this brokenness inside me might start healing by LiveLaughLoveLarry / @loveislarryislove [T, 29k, Louis/Harry]
Louis grew up in a tiny town, where everyone knew everyone -- or at least, they think they do. Then he left, and became a successful singer-songwriter, a star that everyone in the country knows -- or at least, they think they do.
But when Louis returns home for the birth of his first nibling, he meets a librarian who doesn't know him at all. And that's all Louis could ask for.
“I remember when you were a teenager," Miss Susan says, "telling me all the things you wanted to accomplish, the places you wanted to go. And I’ve seen a lot of kids, with a lot of big dreams – but you were different. You had this… quiet energy, this determined certainty. When you told me all you were going to do, I believed you.” She smiles, spreading her arms. “And now here you are.”
Here he is indeed, Louis thinks bitterly. Back where he started. His dreams on pause, his future uncertain. His whole identity built out of secrets and half-truths, while everyone thinks they know exactly who he is.
He left to find himself, he came home to find himself, and yet – here he is, feeling more lost than ever before.
＊ Rewriting the Melody by LadyAJ_13 / @ladyaj-13 [T, 26k, Harry/Louis]
Louis doesn’t get put in One Direction. This time, the path to true love takes the long way round, including singing in toilet cubicles, fruit baskets, and long distance band counselling from someone who really doesn’t know what he’s doing, he just wants to keep talking to Harry.
＊ warmth within your arms by @hsburnr [M, 1k, Louis/Harry]
when it's get too much to bear and nothing makes sense, harry seeks comfort from louis.
one shot, hurt/comfort au.
- Fic Fests -
＊ 1D Dystopian Fic Fest / @1ddystopianfest / masterpost
“Telling a story in a futuristic world gives you this freedom to explore things that bother you in contemporary times.” ~ Suzanne Collins
- Podfics -
＊ [podfic] Season 3, Episode 4: Timeless [a fic by babyhoneyhslt] by podfic_pals / @podfic-pals [G, Louis/Harry]
After visiting an antiques shop, Harry gets transported through time, and discovers that he and Louis are Timeless.
Based on Taylor Swift's Timeless.
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pete fighting uhh pinning him down. and uhh. pussy. yeah. so like. Sorry i went on a rant i’ve been stuck on this specific thought for days and i thought i’d save it to submit it. :-)
to start off, pete’s a good fight, honestly. he’s physically strong and relatively little - so he can move pretty quick and hit pretty hard. so its pretty hard to get him down onto the ground, but not too bad. it’s some deserted parking lot, the van blocks the streetlamp from really lighting us up. so i get him on his back. he’s probably dressed in something skimpy, because he’s a whore, and his hair is probably all messed up. he hasn’t had the chance to fuck with it in a few days, so its curled up at the edges from sweat. he’s grimy. sweaty. probably smells terrible. but he kinda looks pretty like this - sort of grouted at the seams. he’s very pretty, actually. his lips don’t get any less plush just because his teeth are bared (nice teeth too, by the way).
also, he’s got a collar on. because he’s a whore? i mean obviously. it’s simple black leather, a single strap around his throat with a couple studs. he’s been wearing it all day and nobody has even questioned it. so, he’s pinned down. arms under his waist just enough to restrain him, with my knee on his stomach, the other up by his hip. he’s squished in half, his thigh got caught between my legs and is now resting sort of over my hip. i’ve got a hand on his chest to keep him down, the other grabs at his collar before i can think of anything smarter to do. if he wasn’t more aware of his loss, he’d probably have tried to bite at me.
the part of this i’ve really been stuck on all day is telling him something like “down, boy” or “heel” or “don’t bite, hound” or really anything that would remind him he’s a puppy to me. (have you seen the guy? have you heard him talk? he’s a doggy!) and watching how he would sort of melt under it. relax back into the concrete just enough to tell me he’s given up. (usually, people would simply dismount (?) him at this point. but i unfortunately need to fuck him so bad that my head hurts when i think about his pussy so. here we are.) since he’s scrunched in half, his belt is pretty easy to undo, and there’s really no reason to be gentle about it - so i think i’d get his jeans up to about midway on his thigh (i would have to take my knee off his tummy but that isn’t really a problem because he’s not gonna fight back.)
he’s a fucking loser. not only because he’s a nerdy sorta freak, but because he lost the fight and he’s being undressed on perhaps the dirtiest concrete in all of the midwest, several hours after dark. non-losers would be at a party, or maybe asleep. (so, basically, he’s fucking embarrassed. a little guilty. kinda like the face doggies give you when they know they shouldn’t have done something, and they just did it in front of you.)
pete’s teary, flushed, and doing his very best to avoid the embarrassment of eye contact right now. because his pants just came off, and the shitty boxers he’s wearing are absolutely soaked through because his dumb ass can’t even get called a bitch without needing to jerk off after. (he nearly came in his pants the second he was on the ground. it’s loser behavior.)
i’d probably be actively making fun of him for it, too. like “jesus christ, dude, one punch and you’re wet through your panties?” or maybe tugging the collar and making a joke about how he must be in heat. follow it up with quite literally any sentence containing the word breed and he’s out of his mind.
i need to shove his boxers up and spread his cunt open. brush his t-dick as gently as i can just to watch him squirm. start off with one finger, dragging it in and out at a pace that would definitely make him whine. (or, try to get up so he can take over - only to be shoved back down by a hand on his throat.) (i want to feel his insides. he’s gotta be super worked up, so no matter how you’re touching him, he’d be twitching.) while he’s probably yipping up a storm (because he’s a puppy! yip yip woof!) i’d take the opportunity to get a second finger in and start on a moderate pace. two fingers, not even going that fast, and he’s losing his fucking mind. uselessly babbling and trying to shove his hips down onto my hand.
absolutely nothing going through his head, i’m sure. if anything, probably some word-soup that ends up only consisting of “puppy, please, cum” or something of that nature. not a single sentence or complex thought. i wanna watch him cum his dumb puppy brains out. barely able to move but thrashing around anyway. i’d get a hand on his collar and pinch it just a little tighter when i feel his cunt start to seize up. (i think he’d start silently, or maybe just with a mumble (something like “fuck, i’m cumming, m’ gonna cum.” again. no complex thought in that thing!) and then devolve into whining as loud as humanly possible. borderline barking. cause. yeah. you get the gist. woof.) i wanna watch him shaking and trying to compose himself after - eyeliner running down his face, red cheeks, bloody lip from our fight.
i feel like this is already too long so i’ll leave rhis one here and maybe come back later to put another incredibly long psot int he askbox. You know what it’ll be. i’ll be fucking that band guy that barks
-⚙️ gear anon :-)
.
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I figured google translate isn't Exactly a reliable way to find name meanings but
Upon googling there is exactly one (1) person on names.org who submitted "timeloop" as the meaning of the name siffrin 💀 seems perfectly peer reviewed and reliable fr
After some extra googling and digging through name meanings websites I can literally not find a SINGLE other source saying this is the meaning of this name
I have no idea why I googled this or give a shit as I don't even know which character (I'm assuming?) This is about and I Do Not go to whatever fandom this is related to. And yet I just had to know. But I can't really find a definitive answer to what the name means either, because every other site just says some shit and they all differ. It just really PROBABLY isn't "time loop". Sorry for the long ass ask 👍 I should be asleep
the name is a play on sisyphus (on the account of them being stuck in a time loop) (a cycle, a repeating pattern (<- rain world reference))
so if you wanted to actually know the meaning you'd need to look at the etimology of sisyphus, but as far as a cursory search informs me people are a bit unclear on the original meaning
my best guess why someone would submit 'time loop' as the meaning of the name is that yknow, siffrin is the main character of a time loop game
#in stars and time#isat#also i would totally suggest you check out that game it's really fucking good
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new fic time
you can read it below the cut here on tumblr or over on ao3
I'm Stuck in this Life, and I'm Stuck in these Pants
Rating:
Not Rated
Archive Warning:
Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Category:
Gen
Fandoms:
Batman - All Media Types
Justice League - All Media Types
Relationship:
Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne
Characters:
Bruce Wayne
Dick Grayson
Clark Kent
Justice League (DCU)
Additional Tags:
Emotional Hurt/Comfort
its crack and hurt/comfort so have fun with that
enjoy the whiplash
no beta we die like jason todd
Dick Grayson Needs a Hug
Dick Grayson Gets a Hug
Dick Grayson joins the Justice League
Hurt Dick Grayson
Dick Grayson Has Eldest Daughter Syndrome
Probably ooc
Bruce Wayne is Trying to be a Good Dad
One Shot
Language: English
Summary:
"Do you want me to join the League?" The League would assume it was an open question, but Bruce knew it was directed at him. This moment was in complete contrast to years of conversations about protecting their identities and keeping their former partnership a secret. He needed to speak up.
"You are one of the best, you deserve the right to choose." He responded, consciously keeping his voice in Batman mode.
aka Dick get chosen to join the League but before he does he has to face his inner demons
Notes:
this started as a crack fic and became hurt/comfort so be aware, it's also the longest single chapter work i have every written at 6082 which is short for some people but me and my adhd tried
no beta reader obviously so any mistakes are there for good now. i did a sweep but again, it's tagged and i've warned you so no telling me i spelt something wrong or used the wrong version of there ok *points at you*
Bruce had been working with the Justice League for over a decade, taking solo heroes and turning them into a team. They knew each other's strengths and weaknesses and can bounce off of one another during combat. It took time but they truly were a single unit. He's proud of what they have accomplished.
The rest of the League weren't on the same page. Sure, they all worked well together, but then there's Batman. He kept to himself, was never on the watchtower when he wasn't needed, constantly avoided talking about himself, and looked like he hated being with them. After years of working together, everyone had revealed their identities, some by choice, some accidental. Everyone but Batman. No one in the League knew who he was. They knew very little about him, other than that he's completely human (probably) and that he's from gotham. He doesn't even let them in his city, with strict rules about them working there. something about "human rogues" and "dangerous for supers". They disagreed with the rule, but without explicit permission from him, they couldn't enter. And no one was about to argue with him.
The time had come to propose new members for the League. Everyone was allowed to submit up to one person to join, and unless there were any serious objections, they would put it to a vote and the person with the most votes would join the League, provided they wanted to of course. But no one had ever turned down their offer before, who would refuse to join the Justice League?
The majority of the League didn't put anyone forward. Barry had suggested Wally, not as a new member but as his replacement given he was looking to retire from the hero game, and given that Wally had left the Titans recently, was available. Batman had said that would be discussed separately at a second meeting as replacements were a different conversation. No one had spoken otherwise, until the nominations got around to Superman.
"I do have a nomination this year. I've worked with this person a lot and I believe they would be an excellent addition to the League. They have been in the game for almost 10 years and protect an entire city on their own. He truly is one of the best."
A chill went down his spine and Bruce suppressed a shudder. That could apply to multiple people, a lot of heroes have been around for a while. But very few were responsible for a city, and there was only one person he knew that was close with Superman.
���I nominate Nightwing for the League."
Honestly, he was surprised it took this long for Dick to get nominated. He was one of the most capable heroes out there, having worked alongside the League before as both an independent hero and as the leader of the Titans. He worked well with others, as Bruce would know given he was Robin for a decade. He trusted no one more in the world. Batman fought well with the League, but he was constantly thinking about how to work with their moves. watching himself and others, predicting what they would do so he could make sure he wasn't interfered with. But with Nightwing he could just fight. They knew exactly how the other would move, and on instinct could follow through. He knew they would both protect each other.
"...Batman?" Superman broke him out of thought
"Hn"
"Do you object?"
Having him on the team would mean he wasn't alone. He had someone there that immediately understood his plan and was much better at communicating with the others. He would be a bridge, a bridge that provided support for everyone. Bruce would also have an excuse to work with him more. He did sometimes miss the conversations they would have in the field, the snarky jabs at rouges, the smile on his face whenever he managed to make Bruce laugh.
But having Dick on the team put them at risk. It wouldn't be too hard for the League to figure out that they knew each other. They could dig and find a connection to Gotham and then to everyone else. Maybe something he'd say would cause a memory to resurface for one of them, a memory of Batman during the time when Dick wore the cowl, and they could see that Nightwing happened to disappear during that time. It was too risky.
He opened his mouth to object, but no sound came out. Dick had taught him a lot, one of which was to trust him. Dick was his own hero now, and he could weigh up the decision. He deserved the chance.
"No."
"Ok then, as no one else was nominated, that negates voting. Batman, could you give him watchtower access and request him?"
Trying to figure out how he could manage this, he got up and moved over to the console on the side. Dick had watchtower access, they all did, but he went through the process of giving it anyway, all it did was throw you a message saying they already had it, which Bruce dismissed. That was the easy part. bracing himself, he tuned into the comms.
"Oracle."
"What's up batman?" Babs always cloaked her voice, even on the bat exclusive channels, but he could still make out her speech pattern and a sliver of her accent.
"I need you to relay to Nightwing that he is requested in the watchtower."
"Y- yeah." The surprise wasn't hidden at all. "Everything ok? Do you need me to send it to anyone else?"
"No."
"Right, I'll let him know." Static on the line told Bruce that Dick was in the same room and they were discussing it. He was in Gotham that night, helping out while Bruce was with the League, and must have stopped into the watchtower. "Yeah, ok, he's on his way now."
Bruce hung up. He felt bad not thanking her but he had an image to uphold. The League all thought oracle was an AI program, and it would be weird. Not for someone like Clark, who would thank automatic doors half the time. But Batman? People would be worried.
He'd barely made it back to the table when the zeta-tube whirred to life.
"Entering, Nightwing, B-01"
"Wait, hold up, there's a B?"
"I know he isn't Titan anymore but weren't they T?"
"That was really fast, like he was expecting it..."
Bruce tuned them out and turned to face his former partner, now only a few feet away.
"So... why exactly was I requested?"
Complete confidence in his voice. If Bruce didn't know him, he would assume he was comfortable. But he could see the minor tension held in his chest, the way he rubbed his thumb along the side of his index finger, how his footsteps were almost silent to not disturb. Dick was confused, curious, and concerned.
Superman stood up. "We held nominations for a new member, and your name was put forward. We deliberated and would like to extend an invitation to join the League."
Dick stood there. He was completely still and looked in shock, and was staring directly at Bruce. They could see each other's eyes behind their dominoes thanks to the lenses in them, so he could see Dicks locked onto him, narrowed as if to ask 'what the hell is going on?'. If he hadn't opened his mouth, Bruce would've walked over to check on him.
"Do you want me to join the League?" The League would assume it was an open question, but Bruce knew it was directed at him. This moment was in complete contrast to years of conversations about protecting their identities and keeping their former partnership a secret. He needed to speak up.
"You are one of the best, you deserve the right to choose." He responded, consciously keeping his voice in Batman mode.
He was so proud of what Dick had become. He'd outgrown Robin, had gone far beyond what Batman could be, and had truly become the best. No matter how much he tries, it's hard to keep the affection he had out of his tone.
Dick noticed, and softened his posture. He started towards him and Bruce felt the League tense behind him. Normally he wouldn't allow anyone that close without reason, yet to them, here he was, letting this almost stranger into his personal space. Ignoring them, his eyes remained locked onto Dick until he was alongside him, forcing Bruce to turn around and face the League.
Every set of eyes was on him as Nightwing clapped him on the shoulder. The last person who'd tried anything like that had ended up with a batarang in their hand. Batman wasn't a people person and that was to be respected. The rest of the League tensed, prepared for bloodshed that would never come.
"Well, if Big Batsy over here gave me the stamp of approval, I would be insane to reject it immediately, although I am going to need some time to consider."
The majority of the room looked shell shocked as Bruce took his seat and Dick shuffled to stand behind him, resting his arms on Bruce's shoulders.
"I mean, this is a very big decision and I would at least like to discuss it with my team."
Flash spoke up. "But I thought you left the Titans? Wally said it was something about trust issues."
Dick snorted.
"Wally’s right, the endless debates about identities and how valuable they can be started to get on my nerves. If you must know, we disagreed on if I can be truly trusted without revealing my identity, so I chose to leave, along with Wally and Donna. With B over here, I assume you don't share their sentiments." He tugged on the bat ears as he spoke, a gesture he'd been doing since he was Robin, and something they both found comfort in.
The League was still in shock over how Batman was letting someone be near him, let alone play with his cowl. Bruce should've stopped him, kept up the act, but he was tired and he was happy Dick was this comfortable around him, after all the time they spent at a distance.
He sensed the rouse of working alone was coming to an end
Dick was having too much fun.
Sure, he was honoured for the invite, but messing with Bruce in front of the League was an opportunity he couldn't pass up. Of course, he wouldn't jeopardise their identities, but just getting to poke the bear would bring him so much joy. Making the Justice League lose their minds watching this random hero from Blüdhaven get close and personal with Batman and walking away unscathed was the highlight of the year, and it was clear Bruce was also enjoying it.
Well, he was tolerating it, which meant he found comfort in it and didn't growl at him.
He'd take it, after all the years they spent at each other's throats. Dick's later teenage years as both Robin and Nightwing hadn't been the most pleasant. He was a teenaged boy who'd spent every day at school and then came home to be ordered around. He needed his freedom and he'd gotten it, albeit by less than peaceful means. But after he came to terms with being fired, and had recovered from Jason's death, he'd started mending their relationship, and now they were closer than they'd ever been. So he was absolutely going to stand too close to Batman and put the League on edge.
It was even funnier given he'd met most of them before, back when he was Batman. Not that they'd know it, he made an excellent brooding, works alone, Dark Knight Batman. Even as he actively worked with Damian, Tim, Steph, and Babs. But he'd kept up the mythos, kept everything in the dark, and had seamlessly given the mantle back to Bruce once he was ready. As far as the League was concerned, he'd never been here before and was no different than the other ex-Titans.
At least, he hoped that. A hope that was crushed when Hal Jordan opened his mouth.
"Ok, but explain why you have the code B-01 for the zeta tube? The Titans were under T, and as far as I am aware, no one was under B."
This is where the real fun begins.
"Yeah, I've asked B the same thing, but he said it was due to clearance issues, that T had restrictions and I needed to be separate from that. I'm honestly surprised he didn't just throw me in with you guys, make me like 3-6 or something, but he's paranoid and didn't want to risk anyone finding it so..."
This seemed to confuse him more.
"What kind of clearance?"
Dick walked around the side to lean against Bruce, folding his arms and crossing his right leg behind his left.
"Oh, y'know, being able to use the Gotham tubes."
He feigned innocence, knowing the storm that would erupt from those few words. And indeed it did, as shouts echoed around the room in disbelief that someone other than Batman can enter Gotham.
After a few minutes of this, Dick saw something click in Superman's head. Dick had worked with Clark a lot, and had been inspired to take the name Nightwing from him. Clark was the only member of the League that knew Batman had a Robin, although he'd never personally met anyone besides Dick and probably assumed Batman worked alone now. He also knew Clark hadn't pieced together that Nightwing was that Robin, which was surprising given he took his name from a Kryptonian myth that Clark had told him once. But we see what we want to see and as far as everyone was concerned up until this moment, Batman and Nightwing didn't know each other.
But Clark had seen it. He'd seen Robin tug on Batman's cowl. He'd seen how Robin was the only one Batman allowed to get near him. He'd seen Robin's eyes light up telling him the story of Nightwing and Flamebird. Nightwing was Robin. An older, stronger, all-round better fighter and strategist, but still the same little shit he'd always been. The Man of Steel had finally figured it out.
"Robin?"
Silence fell and everyone turned to face Superman.
"Who?" Barry tilted his head like a dog, a move that almost caused Dick to snort at.
"You know, Robin. Batman and Robin? He used to have a 12 year old kid dressed like a traffic light follow him around everywhere..?"
Nothing.
"Wait, did no one else meet Robin?" all eyes remained locked onto him.
Breaking the silence, Diana, who had been quietly watching this unfold, made her way over and stood next to Batman with tension throughout her body.
"Batman-"
"Hold up, Nightwing still hasn't explained anything, like how he can enter Gotham, and who is this team he has if he isn't a Titan anymore?"
Dick unfolded his arms and placed his hand on Bruce’s shoulder. He gave a subtle squeeze, asking if he could explain. After a second, Bruce shrugged, the signal for yes.
"When I was 9, B took me in and trained me. He taught me how to fight, but he also showed me how to be a detective. Once he knew I could handle myself and be an asset, he let me go out with him. I chose the name Robin and to wear bright colours. We worked together for a decade before I outgrew being his sidekick and became Nightwing, operating solo in Blüdhaven or with the Titans."
"I thought Robin died..." Superman looked straight at Dick, locking eyes with him as if his mask wasn’t there.
This startled the two of them. Maybe Clark knew more than they thought. Bruce shifted under his hand, letting him know he was there. This was still a tough subject for them both, given how their current standing with Jason was.
“Well, I’m clearly not dead so… Don’t know what to tell you, Supes.”
Clark furrowed his brows and looked down. The journalist was clearly unsatisfied with that response yet chose to let it go. The rest of the League shuffled around, obviously uncomfortable with the latest development. Dick took that as his cue.
“Welp, with that revelation I shall leave and ponder your offer. Good morrow fair Justice League.” Tipping his head into an incredibly dramatic bow and sweeping his arms out, he turned on his heel and headed for the Zeta Tube. He’d had his fun but the mention of Jason had brought him back to reality and he wanted to leave. A nice, long, warm shower awaited him at home.
Pondering was hard. Dick discovered this as he sat in his shower, the water falling on his face. After making his way back to his apartment in Blüdhaven, he’d climbed out of his suit and straight into the shower as his thoughts finally hit him.
Holy shit, he’d been invited to join the League.
He knew he’d been a vigilante for longer than most of the members, save for Batman, Superman, and Captain Marvel. But that still didn’t diminish that fact he was chosen to join THE superhero team.
Dick loved being on a team. He was a leader by nature but he also liked bouncing ideas between people. He knew he wouldn’t be in a leadership position but he wouldn’t be seen as less. He would be an equal and that was all he needed. Besides, he would be working with Bruce, someone that knew his abilities and just how useful he could be.
“Oh. Ok, that need for approval will be promptly filed away in the ‘things to bring up in therapy’ folder,” he mumbled to himself. He’d been working on his people pleasing tendencies and desperate need to prove himself and be more, yet clearly not enough. Wally called it his ‘eldest daughter syndrome’ and he couldn’t really disagree. He did put the weight of the world on his shoulders sometimes. But this was why he needed a team, people who he could rely on when needed. People who could help remove some of that weight. People he could trust. The trust issues that came with being a bat never really go away, huh.
He stood up, turning the shower off, and wrapped himself in a towel. There was no point in thinking about it any further. His answer was obvious. He opened the bathroom door and made his way into the main room, where Batman was waiting for him.
“You are so lucky I put a towel on.”
Bruce grunted. Dick rolled his eyes in response.
“Seriously, I could’ve walked out with nothing on and that would have been traumatising to both of us. Imagine me having to explain to everyone why you can’t look at me, how embarrassing that would be.”
“Hn. I came to congratulate you.” Dick couldn’t stop the smile that crept onto his lips at that.
“Thanks B. I'm still a little shocked if I’m being honest. I know I’m not an unknown vigilante, but not only being noticed, but getting nominated and accepted is a big deal.”
Bruce stepped closer, pulling his cowl down and placing his hand on Dick’s shoulder. Dick looked down at the ground, sheepish in the face of actual affection.
“Dick, you have been doing this for longer than almost everyone. You’ve helped save the world countless times and been a beacon of light and hope. Not only to the rest of the world but to me too.”
His head snapped up and he met Bruce’s eyes. After a second it was Bruce that looked down at the floor.
“I know I haven’t always been the best, firing you and acting the way I did after Jason… But you have made me proud, Dick, never forget that.”
Almost without thinking, Dick wrapped his arms around Bruce. Since he’d become Nightwing, they hadn’t been very affectionate with each other. They never really were but when he lived at the manor, when he was Robin, he would find comfort in Bruce’s arms after a bad night on patrol or after he woke from a nightmare. This was one of the few moments of vulnerability they shared and Dick knew to let himself fall into it. He felt pressure on his back, and he was enveloped in the embrace. He didn’t want to let go but knew Bruce wouldn’t if he kept hold. He almost didn’t, wanting to keep this moment going, but Batman had important work to do tonight. Gotham wouldn’t stay quiet for long.
As if the powers of the universe were listening, beeping echoed from the cowl and the two separated. Bruce grabbed the comm and listened to whatever was going down, before turning to Dick.
“Don’t feel like you must rush this. I trust your judgement and know whatever you decide will be the right choice.” He moved back towards Dick before hesitating. Dick wasn’t sure what he wanted, but after a few seconds, he found his hair being ruffled. Just like when he was Robin.
The pressure left and with a breeze, Batman was gone. Dick debated throwing his suit on and going to help, but he’d had a long day and needed the sleep. He would catch up with Bruce in the morning, after filing ‘Wanting the feelings he had as Robin’ to his therapy list.
“Has he decided yet?”
Bruce was glad his eyes were covered, otherwise the Flash would’ve seen a very un-Batman-like eyeroll. Wally was settling into the team well after Barry departed a few days prior, but he was clearly impatiently waiting for his best friend to arrive. That is, if Dick chose to join the team at all. It had been a week with no hint of a choice. Bruce didn’t want to push him, this was a big decision, but he also wanted to get the rest of the League to stop asking him. It was as if they were children, poking him and asking ‘are we there yet?’
“He has not, and I will not push him for a response.”
“But he said he would think about it, surely a week is long enough.” Wally paced back and forth as if he was trying to solve a complex math problem.
“I am aware of that, but it is a big decision.”
“UGH I’m gonna call him, see if I can get him to choose.” He sped over to the tubes, punching in the coordinates for what Bruce assumed was Central City.
“Recognised, Flash, 0-7.”
“Stupid tower and it’s lack of phone signal. How hard is it to install cell service up here…” His voice fading away as he travelled off the tower, finally giving Bruce room to breathe.
It was his turn for monitor duty, which he was supposed to do with Green Arrow, but had let Oliver off for the night, due to a gala he needed to attend. He himself was supposed to be there but unfortunately Bruce Wayne had come down with a nasty case of the flu and so wouldn’t be attending. The was partly true, Bruce had caught the flu and was suffering because of it, but no one would notice if Batman was quieter than usual.
The silence he was enjoying was promptly broken by the Zeta Tube announcing the arrival of Clark.
“Entering, Superman, 0-1”
“Hey Batman, how’s the case going?”
“Hn.”
“Good good. Don’t worry, I’m just here to pick up something before heading back to work. You’ll be left to your silence again soon.”
Bruce turned back to his files as Clark moved around the Watchtower. Of course, he wasn’t working on the file, but rather keeping track of where Clark was in the room. He was awful at keeping his emotions off his face, and Bruce knew he wanted something. No doubt it was Zeta access to Gotham for the night. Clark was covering the gala for the Planet and even with his speed, it would be quicker to go straight there instead of via Metropolis. He knew Clark was getting closer to him as he moved around, and finally, when he gathered the courage to stand right behind Bruce, did he turn around to face him.
“What do you want, Kal?”
“Well, I wanted to ask if I could have access to the Gotham tubes, just for tonight while I’m working there.”
“You can just fly across the bay from Metropolis.”
“I- Yes I can but I would rather no one know Superman was around Gotham, and I believe you do too.”
Bruce sighed, his patented ‘Tired Dad Batman’ sigh as Dick labelled it after he managed to elicit the sigh on many occasions. Clark was right, he definitely didn’t want anyone thinking Superman was operating in Gotham on a night where Batman wasn’t. It would send the wrong impression and risk the exposure of the other Bats.
“Hn. Fine. You can have one time access to the Tube nearest the Museum.” Bruce got up and made his way to the console.
“Oh, wow, err, thanks.” Clark stammered out as he followed. He started to put in the access code and was almost done when the tube roared into life, the screen showing the connection coming from the Batcave. Both men turned to face the tube as a human outline started to appear. Bruce let a small smile creep onto his face as the announcement was made.
“Entering, Nightwing, 3-6.”
Dick stepped through onto the Watchtower and was immediately greeted by Bruce and Clark. He threw his iconic grin onto his face and threw his arms out
“Whoops, didn’t realise you guys were using the tube. Sorry about that.”
Clark tilted his head slightly, as Barry had when he’d been invited. Guess it was a midwestern thing. Bruce, however, just turned back to the console as he spoke.
“I see you had Oracle reassign you.”
“I figured you were busy.”
“Yes.”
Dick snorted and made his way past Clark, who followed him with his eyes.
“Wait, Nightwing?”
“Yeah?”
“Why are you number 3-6? We don’t have that many members so you should be a lower designation.”
Dick kept the smile on his face.
“Inside joke, and when Oracle is the one giving me access, I couldn’t not ask.”
Clark looked as if he wanted to pry deeper, but that was cut off by Bruce.
“Superman, you will arrive about three blocks from the museum. I assume you can find your way from there.”
Clark turned back to the tube and nodded.
“Recognised, Superman, 0-1.”
Then he was gone.
Dick turned to Bruce, and was met with a smile.
“Wally just left. He went to call you.”
“Oh, well I guess I’ll just call him back later. I didn’t come to see him.” Dick shrugged.
“Did you need something, or did you just want to test your new designation?”
“Ha, both. But I knew you were up here and working on the Fear Toxin case and came to offer help. That and tell you my decision. I figured it was pretty obvious I would accept.”
“I wasn’t so sure.” Dick frowned at Bruce. “You’ve just left your team, one you lead, to join one with people that don’t exactly trust you.”
“Hey, they don’t trust you either. Now there’s two of us.” Dick tried to deflect but after almost 20 years, Bruce knew to ignore this.
“I was unsure if you’d want to join a team so soon, let alone one where people already are weary of you. My reputation is something I’ve built but now people know you and I have been working together for a long time. The tension has been higher in the past week. I’m yet to be called out, though I suspect people will attempt to gather information from you on the incorrect assumption that would be easier. I wanted to leave the decision to you, but was tempted to inform you of how it has been in case that would change your mind. I don’t regret offering you a place on the team. If I’m being transparent, I would enjoy having you here, someone I can trust without any hesitation. But I want you to make sure it’s right.”
Dick inhaled sharply. Bruce had thought about this, and was actually being open with him. Since their meeting in his apartment, Dick had thought about it a lot. He’d jumped between joining and not, missing being part of a team but worried about how it would affect him and Bruce. When Wally had told him he’d be replacing Barry as the Flash, including joining the League, Dick had the only serious doubt about it. Not because he didn’t want to be on a team with Wally, he was his best friend. He just didn’t want it becoming another Titans debacle, where he was incredibly close to Wally and Donna, but everyone else questioned him because he hadn’t revealed his identity.
That hurt. Being a bat meant wearing a mask and protecting your identity for the sake of everyone else. If even one of them was unmasked, it wouldn’t be too hard to figure out the rest. So he never did. He couldn’t risk any of them. He couldn’t risk his family. And in protecting one, he lost another. The Titans slowly withdrew from him, getting more and more combative, and it resulted in a disaster of a mission.
What should’ve been a simple rescue after an earthquake ended up with Dick having to call in Superman to help. His plan had been solid but everyone other than Donna and Wally had abandoned it in a sort of coup. What they hadn’t planned, however, was exactly how the building they were operating around would collapse. Dick had studied the building’s structural integrity using blueprints and footage of the earthquake, and had constructed his plan to evacuate at the right speed and in the right order to minimise extra strain on the weakened foundations. This required to start from the central part of each floor and work outwards, maintaining the balance of the building. This ensured it wouldn’t crumble under the weight down one side. He’d been in the process of explaining this when the team had run off and started rescuing whoever they could access first, which altered the building’s centre of gravity as they shifted piles of rubble, and caused a complete collapse.
Dick had called Clark immediately, a vulnerable moment where he’d screamed for Superman out of pure fear, who’d helped in recovering the bodies of those that didn’t make it, and after arriving back at Titans Tower, Dick had packed up his stuff and left. He’d dropped his bag at his apartment before going out on his bike. He hadn’t paid attention to where he was driving and the next thing he knew, he was outside the gates to the Manor. Driven there on instinct. He hadn’t gone in, just sat outside for longer than he should’ve, before driving back to Blüdhaven and beating the shit out of some corrupt cops, something that was incredibly cathartic. But part of him regretted not going up to the door and asking if he could stay a while. He missed having people around, and being alone in his apartment didn’t help with his thoughts. He knew it wasn’t his fault the team didn’t listen to him. He did everything he could. But people had died on his watch, and he’d called for help instead of handling it by himself. He was a leader and he’d let everybody down.
A cough brought him back and he looked up to see Bruce had made his way over and placed his hand on Dicks shoulder. He’d missed it during his spiral, and Bruce had noticed. He could see his eyes through the cowl, new lenses that polarised for each other but no one else, and they were full of concern. Dick hadn’t spiralled like that in front of Bruce for a while and it was clear he was worried.
“I- I’m just thinking about the last mission I had with the Titans. Maybe it was time for me to leave leading behind me.”
“Dick,” Bruce brushed the hair that had fallen onto his face behind his ear. “We can’t always win. Sometimes we try our hardest and we lose. But we have to move on. I know this is hypocritical coming from me, but that’s why we have each other. Me, you, Robin, the Batgirls, everyone else. I know how much it hurts, I know the pain and anger and fear you feel inside. I felt it when you got shot, I felt it when Jason died, and I feel it every time one of you gets injured. But we are there to support each other and keep ourselves from getting lost in that pain. You taught me that. So I’m here to support you, and anyone else here will say the same thing.”
He coughed back his tears. Bruce knew what he was doing but made no move to get closer. That would be on Dicks terms.
“I want to be in the League, but I’m scared of messing up again.”
“You didn’t mess up. Clark told me what happened, how your team ignored your plan and acted in a way that caused the collapse. You then called for help when you knew you couldn’t do anything more. That’s why we are here, to help when needed.” Bruce sighed, but this time it wasn’t out of annoyance for Dick, but annoyance for myself. “I know I trained you to be the best. I know you put so much pressure on yourself to save everyone. To be there for everyone. And I know that is my fault. But you are not capable of saving everyone. No one is. Not me, not Wonder Woman, and not even Superman. That’s why the League has so many members with different strengths. Our strengths fill holes in others weaknesses. You would do that. You’re a natural leader who sees the best in everyone. You have an ability to light up the space and make people feel comfortable. You are one of the smartest people on the planet and could take over the world if you tried. Which, please don’t try to take over the world.”
Dick let out a sob as he laughed.
“I don’t plan on it yet, but if I do I’ll make sure to give you a few minutes' notice before I begin.”
Both men let themselves be vulnerable for a minute, holding each other and laughing. If the other Leaguers had been there, they would’ve lost it at the sight of Batman acting like… a person. The League probably believe all the rumours that Batman is a local cryptid, or maybe they prefer the vampire story. He’ll be able to find out, probably from people asking him about it.
Dick pulled himself back from Bruce and looked back up at him. They’d both been crying, but they both needed it. They’d both learned to be vulnerable sometimes, even if progress was slow. Bruce put his hand back onto Dicks shoulder, steadying himself. They moved apart and he straightened himself out.
“I’ll be okay, B. Besides, the moment someone else walks into the room, I’ll be all happy again.”
“Dick.” Bruce tried to grumble but he could hear the compassion that lay underneath.
“Ugh, fine, I will deal with it, Mr Hypocritical.”
Bruce smiled at that, knowing how this discussion would go if it continued. Dick knew it too, and soon they were standing next to each other, staring out the window at Earth.
He bumped Bruce, who bumped him back. It felt so calm, the two of them together. Not as Batman and Robin, but as Bruce and Dick. Father figure and first son. Two decades of fighting together, training together, learning together. He was going to have a lot of fun working with him again, this time as individuals.
But more than that, he was looking forward to playing the League. He was ready to ruin them, to make them doubt themselves. He wanted to see how far he could go before Batman would step in, and knowing Bruce, it would be pretty far.
He was going to be ok.
Notes:
i hope you didn't hate that, it was a brain worm that bounced around in my head for weeks and i'm glad i was finally able to get it out
oh, and the inside joke is that 3-6 is the date dick debuted in the comics, March 6th 1940, so for the non-us americans it would be 6-3 but they are american so...
the title is a lyric from inertia by ajr, which i listened to whilst writing this (specifically the acoustic version)
it's so good and can be found on youtube or spotify
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hey pook!!! how've you been?
this is a little self-indulgent, but i was wondering what musical talents you think the boys would have, if any at all; because i can play a bunch of instruments at quite a low level, but i'm primarily a bassist (electric) and a vocalist!! i also know barry sloane has a band and that comes up in my mind at least once a day
kyle gives me piano vibes, for some reason. he's good with his hands!! he's got piano hands. i also think it'd be funny for simon to play something totally obscure like a harmonica. john i can see vividly as a guitarist, bass and electric, just because barry sloane suits it so much. johnny i think would love a bit of bass, or maybe the drums. bass is the best instrument (i'm biased because i play it)!!! i think at least one of them can sing, i just don't know who i'd pick (but definitely johnny in the shower, i know he's got a good pair of lungs on him)
anyways, lots of love!!! hope you're doing alright
-🪐
Hi love!!! this is like super late but I haven't been sleeping well so the energy levels are like nonexistent so focus and brainpower are at an all time low.
Johnny is definitely the kind of person that can kind of sing, he's not like good at it necessarily but he can carry a tune when he tries. Problem is, he doesn't try and sings loudly and constantly just randomly. Claims it helps him focus. Definitely a drums guy. Again, loud and takes a ton of energy.
Kyle I also think can sing, but he just kind of casually does it and sounds good, but tell him that and he'll brush you off lol. Only sings in like the car and occasionally when he's doing things if he's got a song stuck in his head. He probably took piano lessons as a kid and has that muscle memory for a few songs, but he's forgotten a lot of it.
John definitely gives guitar vibes. Can pick up a guitar and strum a little tune. Probably played a lot when he was younger. He grew up in the 90s so he probably listened to a lot of rock and grunge music, and I could see him having a rebellious stage in his early teens.
Simon plays the triangle. Definitely the guy that you rope into joining the band just because 😂 He has the look but no musical talent whatsoever lol. More of a music listener than anything.
#jokes on everyone Simon probably has the best voice lmao#just randomly starts singing one day and everyone just stares in shock#turns out he took singing lessons as a kid just to have a reason to be out of the house constantly lol#that's kind of sad but I could see it#answered#queue 06
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Magical Girl Golden Ballet!
Dunno why, but I had the uncontrollable urge to make a Cinderella-themed ballet magical girl. I'm a little worried I didn't go far enough/went too far with her dress, but I'm overall very happy with her.
#character concept#character design#magical girl#magical girl design#magical girl wand#cinderella#gold#gold aesthetic#yellow#yellow aesthetic#I sort of wish I added something extra to the wand's handle#but it was probably best I stuck with this look#her tutu was... difficult#at first I thought she needed a more traditional one#but looking at some ballet pictures I saw that the ''uniform'' did leave room for more then one skirt
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Drawing Pav every day until he's playable: Day 65
Didn't feel like doing the usual drawing today or drawing in general so here take these doodles
#fear and hunger termina#fear and hunger#fear and hunger pav#pav fear and hunger#pavel yudin#funger termina#daily pav#kinda funny thing about the development of this blog actually#when i first started this i could nooooot figure out how to draw this guy normally#which is why most of these drawings look...yknow#the way they do#and i just kinda stuck with it for most of the time afterwards#i should probably draw him like this more often for dailypav lmao#i will try my best
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Sometimes I think Dan and Phil are totally platonic besties and then other times I’m convinced they fuck on the daily. I think they do it on purpose and it’s honestly iconic.
kind of the best thing is that they are that and everything in between. you can tell they just like being around each other. they've made content together for 15 years and the large majority of it was done in the strictly platonic sense for their audience. and they were still having so much fun with it. we're in the 'we know you know' era now so we get to see flashes of different dynamics they have, but they absolutely have more we Don't get to see bc they're not for us.
they like each other. stupidly fond of each other. spending time together doesn't feel exhausting. they're best friends and each others' harshest critics while being the biggest hypeman and also safe space.
dnp's relationship with us, their audience, always has been and always will be different than any other content creators. part of it is how they accumulated it, but another part is just the massive history we have with them. they Get us. they Know us. they're silly goofy sarcastic guys who love us and hate us sometimes. theyre grateful but careful too. they like to rile us up, just like they do each other. it's a love language, teasing, and we've shown positive responses to it over the years. i like to say that my relationship with dnp is antagonistic sometimes--cause i know they're pushing my buttons on purpose. and ykw? it's fun! it's fun for us and it's fun for them because they have the control. i know anything they let out is cause they chose to let it out because they Know how we are. so yes they absolutely adore messing with us. we're a funny bunch.
#im getting sappy again#the things you mention anon are not mutually exclusive for dnp. which is a lot of the fun of it#like for me personally. why be in a relationship with someone who isnt your best friend. i dont know how they couldnt be your favourite ever#like maybe im projecting but theirs is probably the healthiest depiction of love i have in my life#theres movies and tv but its not real. and yes dnp are produced. and aware. and curate. but theyre not selling a relationship.#sure we perceive it. but its not the goal. the product is the entertainment value of them together cause theyre funny.#whereas almost every relationship ive properly witnessed in my life seems like. a trap. genuinely.#its like well no love isnt actually real its a concept you just. are stuck. for the rest of existence. be happy about it.#and with dnp its like oh like love is actually real. like theres a reason people want to stay together forever.#like people Do get lost in each others eyes. they get a different look on their face that reads i love you#theres people out there who will love every aspect of you and never get enough of you or your time#i am. so far off on a tangent.#anyways love dnp love the cat and mouse game we play together#dnp#c.text#dan and phil#answered
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do you guys think tanner hated lamina because he knew brandy would have adored her
#must be a bit of a kick in the teeth to be faced with a girl ur dead best friend would probably have liked constantly#maybe he stuck w coral bc he knew brandy would've hated how authoritarian she was and therefore it was less of a reminder#the ballad of songbirds and snakes#everytime he looked at her he had to remember brandy#frankie yaps#tbosas#tanner tbosas#lamina tbosas#brandy tbosas#slaughterjack#i guess??#rip brandy u would have loved to tell tanner off for being so mean
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