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loriache · 20 days

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"I've been waiting for ages for somebody to unmask them."

This moment tends to elicit negative reactions in a first read through, and I've got some opinions about why where Kabru is coming from here actually makes a lot of logical sense. So I thought I'd elaborate on that.

I think people hear this and go, "He thinks they must be hiding something because they gave money to someone? What a cynic." Or "he dislikes them because they did charity?? What's wrong with this guy!". And obviously, a lot, a lot is wrong with him. But I think this makes more sense than it seems at first glance! What people evaluating this judgement miss is why Kabru is paying attention to Laios and co to begin with.

Kabru knows of the Touden siblings because (he's a little bit of a stalker-) he is keeping an eye on all the relevant parties in events developing on the island, in order to be able to guide them to his preferred outcome. This includes adventurers because they are the ones actually exploring the dungeon! He's well aware that something as minor as internal tensions between party members could be key to the historical events that are developing. (He would love the assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand.)

His desired outcome is that whatever the rewards are of breaking the dungeon's curse, whether that's kingship or the ancient elven secrets of dungeons, are claimed by:

A) a short lived person

B) Someone who will be a good, effective leader and/or use those secrets and the power they carry wisely, with foresight, and to establish a political bloc for short lived people.

The person he can best trust to do this is, of course, himself. But due to his PTSD regarding dungeons and monsters, he's not able to develop the necessary skills to conquer the dungeon. Once he realises this, he starts looking for someone else who he can support to that end.

But most of the adventurers don't have any intentions of conquering the dungeon, don't have the skills, or are unsuitable in other ways. In fact, it seems like some potentially suitable people are the Toudens. There are a lot of good rumours about them going around - they actually seem to have a very positive reputation! That's what Kabru means when he says "unmask".

So when Kabru is observing something like them giving money to an old comrade from their gold-peeling days, he doesn't consider it a problem because "they're giving money to this person who doesn't actually need it" or because they must have some dark secret if they act superficially nice. I think he actually understands this situation and what it implies about Laios (in particular) perfectly well.

Laios and Falin gave money to an old comrade who got injured and couldn't work. That person then healed up but kept taking their money. Then he used the money to start smuggling illicit goods to the island.

The key is that for Kabru, the problem here is the same as with the corpse retrievers - people using the dungeon's resources to fuel dangerous, selfish, or violent pursuits cause problems for the island, attract more criminals and people with motives other than breaking the curse, and increase the chances of the whole situation ending in tragedy.

Kabru is willing to work with the Shadow Lord of the island if it gets him to his goal - he isn't scrupulous - but the criminal element of the island increasing is something he sees as a major issue.

Also, when you're evaluating someone as a candidate for power, riches, secrets, potentially kingship - then being curious about how the money you give to people is going to be used is kind of a relevant trait!

Interpersonally, Kabru's actually very easygoing - I mean, Mickbell isn't exactly an upstanding guy, is he! But Kabru likes him and they get along well. These traits wouldn't be a problem at all in a friend, or a comrade, or someone Kabru was confident he could use. But he can't get a handle on Laios, and Laios is someone who has the potential to be a major player!

On Laios' end, this is the same as with the marriage seeker who joined their party. She kept asking for things and he gave them to her, because he tries to be nice to others. He even gives her money! It's the exact same thing.

That's fine, but it became a problem because he basically wasn't interested in her motives, didn't notice she was trying to manipulate him, and it also didn't occur to him that the other party members would notice or be affected. We can assume the situation with the gold peeler is the same. When Kabru says that "It's not that they're bad people, they just aren't interested in humans," he isn't wrong.

The extent to which this is true of Laios is linked to his autism imo, (because it isn't just disinterest - he genuinely isn't able to notice nonverbal cues that people are lying to him or have ulterior motives) but to a greater or lesser extent I think it's a very common trait. Most people aren't actually that interested in other people who aren't close to them. Kabru is the weird one here. It isn't an issue except as a leader - which is why we see an immediate comparison to the Island's Lord, because that's how Kabru is evaluating them.

And disinterest in/lack of ability with people to the extent Laios exhibits it, it does, actually, make him a worse leader... it's just that as we see in the story, people can help him out. The rest of the party tell him the marriage seeker is taking advantage of him so he tells her he can't give her special treatment anymore. They're pissed and it's a crisis point - he couldn't have recovered their trust without Marcille and Falin - but that's exactly the point. With Marcille and Falin, he was able to recover their trust.

And he has other good traits that make up for it, such as his intelligence, strategic knowledge, open-mindedness and sense of fairplay.

Kabru doesn't disqualify Laios as a candidate based on what he sees about him from afar, though - he still tries very hard to get close to him, obviously hoping that if he manages he can steer Laios to defeat the dungeon and make up for his lack of people-skills in the aftermath. (Which... he does eventually achieve that goal!) He completely fails until the events of the story, so... definitely I think "They just aren't interested in humans" could also partially be a stung reaction to Laios' complete disinterest in him.

Anyway, that's my read on what exactly Kabru's "issue" with Laios is. Obviously, once he does find out what Laios' true nature is like - about his love for monsters - he develops an entirely new set of fears about Laios' priorities. But since Laios kept that a secret until the start of the story, he has no idea of that yet.

Given all that, I think it's interesting that he says that he doesn't think that the Toudens are suitable to defeat the dungeon, and that he's hoping they'll turn out to be the thieves. As some of his few potential candidates, people who he thinks may play a big role in the island's future, you'd think he'd hope they would be good people!

I suppose it's better, in his eyes, because it means that he's involved in something "interesting". They haven't just had their stuff stolen by regular criminals (boring, puts them further away from his goal) - they've been caught up in the beginning stages of "a historic event". The desperate and dwindling group forgetting morals in their quest to retrieve their lost comrade probably appeals to his sense of melodrama. Because he also just... loves drama.

Despite it being "uglier than anything he was expecting", he still pursues Laios as the person he wants to conquer the dungeon pretty much as soon as it becomes clear that he won't be able to do it himself and they are out of time. That's because... well, to be fair, there aren't any other options. And he fits standard A: he's short-lived!

and Kabru still hopes he can fit standard B, too, and be persuaded to use the power he wins for good. No matter how many nightmares he has about Laios, or whether he thinks about killing him. He doubts him, but ultimately he puts his faith in him and seems happy after the manga's ending that he made the right decision.

#dungeon meshi #dungeon meshi manga spoilers #dungeon meshi meta #kabru of utaya #laios touden #labru #laios x kabru #dunmeshi #og post #kabru is such a big picture thinker. and he evaluates people more than he judges them imo #the hater jokes are funny but the people he judges most harshly arent laios and co. they're people like the island's lord.#but you don't see that as clearly because he isn't interested in the island's lord. he understands him. finds him contemptible but useful.#whereas laios lives in his brain rent free because he WANTS to understand him but doesnt quite.#even though he sees the elves as a major threat to his ultimate goals and dislikes the way they treat short lived races #he still understands and evaluates mithrun as an individual based on his own merits #he's one of the characters who is least judgemental in that sense because while he's always making judgements and evaluations #he's also constantly revising them whenever he gets more information #my beautiful machiavellian prince <3 #it's genuinely a really laudable way of understanding others imo.#the only problem is that because he's driven towards his goals by his PTSD and survivors guilt #he pushes himself into situations (the dungeon and also interpersonally) that trigger him or even just upset him #without regard for what he authentically wants or his own wellbeing.

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mr-ribbit · 2 months

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gonna rant again bc im seeing a lot of trans women on my dash having to carry the heavy lifting to argue for their basic respect and a lot of other queer people who want to ??? get mad about that apparently. for the record as usual: im tme, im not speaking for anyone besides myself and my perspectives, but I am trying to reach out to fellow tme people to level with y'all from inside the house.

i thought we all got past the 'calling people gendered terms when theyve asked you to stop' thing in like. 2012. i swear we were allllll on board with not calling women dude anymore, nerfing sir and ma'am, neutralizing collective terms for groups, and all of that was like, during the onceler era. that's how we got off-putting shit like folx into the mix - remember???? why are we here again.

to those who I've seen claiming that they REALLY genuinely don't want to offend anyone, and that theyre trying to understand the dude thing, and they don't want to be seen as transmisogynistic when they aren't: ok. let's talk about it. step one, stop sending that really loaded anon to a trans woman you don't know, and close that in-group hatepost with 100 replies from people name-dropping trans bloggers they don't like. try to open your mind and assume for the duration of this post that I am not cynically trying manipulate thousands of tumblr users into making Bro the next big swear word, but a fellow queer human being who thinks you're all being pretty intentionally obtuse about an upsetting trend in our community

to be clear: this post is about the issue of trans women being called bro, dude, man, etc., particularly in recent tumblr discourse about transmisogyny, and the backlash they face if they get upset about it. this is also maybe moreso about the shitty ass excuses I see tme people make for why they supposedly can't stop doing this.

so let's go through some of the things I've been seeing people say they don't understand, supposedly in earnest, about this issue

"I DIDNT USE DUDE AS A MASCULINE TERM. I CALL EVERYONE BRO. MAN IS A GENDER NEUTRAL TERM"

I'm not actually going to exhaust my list of reasons why dude/bro/man are not strictly neutral, but you should be pretty aware that all words have context. Dude might be seen as neutral in many contexts, sure, but 'woman who is frequently called a man by others' is a situation where the context adds extra meaning to your words, just like calling someone "sweetie" might be neutral in some cases, but if you've got the context of knowing that's your coworker who's half your age, it's a bit less neutral. If you're not capable of reading that context and being tasteful about when you say dude, then you need to at least be ready to respond gracefully when someone asks you to stop. This is the part I'd rather focus on.

"BUT I DIDNT MEAN IT THAT WAY. IM NOT TRANSPHOBIC"

I think you should consider broadening your perspective *beyond* your intention behind the word. people may already understand that you meant the word neutrally and therefore didn't have transmisogynistic intent, but that's not really the entire scope of what people are saying. if that's your only concern, you're just trying to clear your record, not actually listen to what they're saying.

there are lots of words people don't enjoy being called, and in most cases, when they say 'pls don't call me that', people respect that and move on. even if the word isn't a slur, if it hurts someone's feelings, we all as a society have agreed that it's pretty shitty to keep calling them that. if your friend asked you not to call them 'buddy' anymore because their dead grandparent called them that, or something equivalently personal, you'd probably respect that instead of telling them 'but I call everyone buddy!!' right? even if you didn't really understand why it bothered them so much?

there is a prominent tendency for trans women to be denied this privilege, and when they ask not to be called dude or bro, people don't seem to respect this request as much as they would in other situations. when I accidentally use a gendered word and someone tells me they don't like it, I try to respond with something like "my bad, I didn't mean it as misgendering but I can see you were still bothered by it, so I'll try not to keep saying it. sorry!" and most people are willing to accept that. when trans women ask people this favor, a lot of people get VERY defensive, and treat the request as inane or unfair, instead of just apologizing and moving on. this is why people are upset when this happens, and it's why people are calling your actions transmisogynistic

also like you might not be doing this, but a lot of people DO use dude and bro in an intentionally gendered way to make trans women uncomfortable. it's a power play bigots use to talk down to them or otherwise maliciously harass them. do you know what arguments they use to defend that behavior when called out on it? 'oh I call everyone that' 'dude is gender neutral calm down' 'dont overreact its just a word'. by acting like this, youre all just giving credence to those same arguments.

"WELL THEY SHOULDNT GET SO MAD AT ME WHEN I DIDNT MEAN ANY HARM"

they can get as mad as they want!! also, are you sure they're 'mad'? or are they just expressing their feelings about a negative topic to you, and it makes you feel bad, so you have to make them out to be unreasonably emotional? how do you think they should have phrased 'dont call me that' to better spare *your* feelings?

also like, in most cases, these women do not knowww you. if your main response to someone saying you disrespected them is to say "I didnt mean it that way, I meant it in a friendly neutral way", well that's NOT YOUR FRIEND! she has no idea what your opinions are or what you think of her!!! she has no reason to assume you only upset her in a friendly way and not a bad unfriendly way! but she did get upset, and she did the one thing she can do which is *tell you what upset her* and your response is to say "well actually you shouldn't be upset at all"??????

and another thing:

it's not just the issue of using the word 'dude', it's because you're coming off extremely dismissive of women who have asked you to stop doing something that harms them, and because your argument is basically that they just shouldn't be so bothered by it. or that they're stupid, irrational, or otherwise crazy for telling you that it bothered them at all, just because you Technically used a gender neutral word according to Your Rules. be honest, does that seem fair? If people were calling you something that bothered you enough to ask them to stop, and they responded like this, how would it make you feel?

focusing solely on your intent and what the words mean when you use them is the same thing as saying "just get over it". no woman should need to Prove to you that 'dude' is gendered for you to care about what she's saying. the fact that you're asking people to do that sucks and makes you look bad, which is why people are arguing with you and calling you a misogynist.

especially those of you who are only doing this with trans women who are actively arguing with. you're wielding misgendering as a cudgel and we can all see it, grow up please.

#discourse cw #transmisogyny cw

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ineffably-human · 9 months

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Nadja's doll can move on her own, and assert herself sexually. Laszlo can stand in the light of the sun for the first time in centuries. Nandor can push himself to his physical limits, while admitting to the softer and more vulnerable reason he wants to do it.

(Colin can both be desired and have a sexual encounter as fucked up as his freaky little heart wants it to be. Honestly, I didn't think I'd say it, but good for him?)

Something something Pride being associated with joyous movement, with power, with authenticity, with freedom.

And Guillermo gets to be flirted with, and courted with a feat of strength, and see his six-foot-something crush loom over him stark fucking naked. Gets to show more vampiric tells and superpowers. And then the sheer gift of just being able to relax afterwards, nothing to be done but enjoy a moment of real joy with the people who matter to him.

Because it could be a cynical vote grab, but Sean genuinely cares about everyone at the parade, and about Staten Island. And believes queer people and immigrants are part of what their home is all about. Sometimes it's okay for everyone to get what they want.

What a joyous episode.

#fandom: wwdits #wwdits #what we do in the shadows #i am a meta gremlin

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molinaskies · 8 months

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What We Get Wrong About Dark Sonic

I find Dark Sonic incredibly interesting.

I’ve said this before, but Dark Sonic represents an overflow of Sonic’s negative emotions, the ones he usually suppresses: anger, sadness, and fear.

However, many people believe that Dark Sonic is somehow a betrayal of Sonic as a character (even Ian Flynn, reportedly, but I’ve yet to see an official source). Sonic is meant to be a beacon of optimism. Sonic is meant to be the pillar of hope when all else fails. Sonic is meant to be the last one standing, no matter what.

In this sense, sure, Dark Sonic contradicts the notion that Sonic is “uncorruptable,” but I think that depends on how we define corruption.

I see it two ways:

1) Corruption by way of losing faith, through dishonesty and fraud. 2) Corruption by way of a forceful shift from one state of being to another.

In the first sense, corruption occurs when someone’s paradigm is shifted through lies, cheating, or manipulation. It’s a conscious mental shift. In the second sense, corruption occurs when something (or someone) is co-opted and changed without its will or influence, like data corruption, or a shift in the meaning of a word or image. It’s a literal, physical and/or metaphysical shift.

There’s a saying that floats around the fandom that says, “Shadow is just ‘Sonic, if Sonic had one really bad day’,” and I think that makes sense. Shadow is jaded and cynical because of how the world has hurt him, but he still wants to do right by people—just like Sonic. What separates Sonic from Shadow, however, is Sonic’s tenant optimism and positive paradigm. Without those differences, Sonic has endless reasons to be as cynical as Shadow, or even more so.

So, Sonic doesn’t let himself feel those feelings for very long, and especially not when other people are around. He pours everything into a clean, neat bottle, with a tight screw-on cap, right?

What happens when something tampers with that bottle?

Dark Sonic is a forceful corruption of body but not of mind. Let’s talk about it.

How Dark Sonic Works

What I think people misunderstand most about Dark Sonic is that it’s not an intentional state of being. It never was.

Dark Sonic is the polar opposite to Super Sonic, which is achieved when Sonic harnesses the positive energy of the Chaos Emeralds. If Sonic wanted to harness the power of the emeralds for the wrong reasons and his heart accessed the negative energy rather than the positive, he could possibly bring about Dark Sonic willingly. This, however, would likely never happen because that is the betrayal of Sonic’s character that everyone worries about.

That said, the only reason Dark Sonic ever appears is because of a mix of Sonic’s pure rage over Black Narcissist physically assaulting Chris and Cosmo and the presence of hundreds of the Metarex’s fake Chaos Emeralds, which possess an aura clearly shown to impact Sonic and make him ill.

Sonic’s first interaction with negative Chaos energy from the fake emeralds is filled with discomfort and even disgust. Sonic reacting to the negative Chaos energy poorly is critical, as it showcases that it’s seeking him out, not vice versa.

When Sonic was as triggered as he was, the negative energy from the fakes harnessed his emotions and corrupted him. It was a complete, freak accident.

This situation is very similar to Darkspine Sonic, the in-game equivalent to Dark Sonic from Sonic and the Secret Rings. Darkspine Sonic only surfaces when Sonic is severely triggered after Shahra starts to betray him, Erazor Djinn murders her (she sacrifices herself for Sonic), and he sees Erazor Djinn’s final form about to destroy the storybook world. In his shock and anger, the Secret Rings of Sadness, Rage, and Hate target him, painfully turning him into Darkspine Sonic. Once again, external energies corrupt him at the height of his emotional vulnerability.

Sonic never seeks out the negative energy of the Chaos Emeralds because his heart is good. When the negative energy seeks him out in such overwhelming waves, it corrupts his abilities, alters them, and pulls them out to play.

But—

If it’s simply a matter of fake Chaos Emeralds, then why can Sonic use Tails’ fake Chaos Emerald in Sonic Adventure 2 without any problems? I posit this to the fact that Tails might have a better understanding of the balanced nature of the Chaos Emeralds (in that they are powered by both good and evil), while Eggman and Dark Oak have only ever used (or desired to use) the Chaos Emeralds for evil.

Recall Eggman’s laser at the beginning of Sonic Unleashed and Perfect Chaos in Sonic Adventure. Both uses of the chaos emeralds drained them of their power—their negative power, that is. (Albeit through different means based on the lore of each game), Sonic is still able to restore and harness the emeralds’ power because he relies on the positive energy of the emeralds. As intelligent as he is, I imagine that Eggman (as well as the Metarex) has a hard time replicating the intricate nature and balance of the Chaos Emeralds because their hearts are filled with hatred and turmoil, so unwilling to heed the perspectives of others. The power is there, sure, but not the heart.

~Chaos is power. Power is enriched by the heart~

Tikal's Prayer

I think the difference between Tails’ fake emerald and every other fake emerald we’ve seen in canon is marked by the fact that both Eggman’s and the Metarex’s fakes disintegrate after excessive use (i.e., Chaos Control), but Tails’ fake remains intact.

The Metarex's emerald disintegrates upon excessive use

Eggman's fake emeralds can't hold their form upon excessive use

Tails' fake emerald is intact and ultimately used to stop the Eclipse Canon from firing

In short, Tails’ emerald is simply a better fake, more accurate to the originals.

also, I refuse to talk about how dumb it is that Sonic was able to use a fake Chaos Emerald to do Chaos Control for the first time. However, it is canon, and therefore relevant to my point.

Another key problem cited in Sonic X is just how many fake emeralds there are. One emerald pales in comparison to hundreds. Sonic feels all the latent negative energy consume him because that energy is a corruption, itself.

It’s not that Sonic gets so angry that he just gives in to darkness, it’s that darkness captures him when he’s in extreme emotional distress and his guard is down. Dark Sonic is the result of negative, unstable, potent Chaos energy clinging to him, using his latent Chaos powers as a vessel when he least expects it and, thus, is powerless against it.

I think I can best prove this by contrasting Dark Sonic with Sonic’s other intimate encounter with darkness…

Sonic Unleashed, Dark Gaia, and the Werehog

I’ve spoken at length about this game and this specific scene, already, so kindly forgive my hyper-brief summary this time around!

When Dark Gaia’s “weight issues” cause its essence to disperse around the globe, many people fall influence to Dark Gaia’s despair, losing faith and hope in the world. Nothing like the influences of Chaos energy, but enough of an influence that much of the world feels it. A core aspect of the game’s plot is that Sonic, distinctly, does not. In the cutscene No Reason, Sonic asks Chip why he stays the same despite the darkness inside his heart while so many others change at night. Chip answers simply, saying that Sonic’s too strong to lose himself and that part of his good will is because he never doubts himself, even when he’s on his own.

The difference is that while Sonic undergoes a physical transformation, he never loses faith or gives up hope—made especially clear by the fact that Professor Pickle, once as hopeful as Sonic, eventually does lose hope.

Also key to note that Amy also never loses hope.

Unleashed is just another fun, high-stakes adventure for Sonic; there’s never a moment where he’s aggressively triggered by something or when his personal morals are ever tainted. Irritated, maybe. Flustered, even. Never at a loss. The closest we see Sonic come to this is when he loses the werehog form to Dark Gaia before the final battle. He falls to his knees, worn and exhausted, and tells Chip to run because he doesn’t want him to get caught up in the mess. Yet even then he’s not giving up.

That’s why Sonic’s heightened emotional state is so important to the conversation. When Sonic’s will is intact, he’s much stronger, but when he’s triggered by something and his defences are down, it’s much easier for corrupting forces around him to take hold.

Mind over Matter

Even with the parameters for Dark Sonic’s appearance established, something that stands out to me about Sonic’s encounters with dark energies, and something I see as additional evidence that Dark Sonic is only a literal, physical corruption and not a corruption of his paradigm, is that Sonic is still in control of himself—to an extent.

Even as he seethes in his amplified rage, Dark Sonic never inflicts harm on the innocent. After Gold and Silver are destroyed, it’s not expressly clear if Sonic intends to stop or fight Black Narcissist, but Eggman implies that Sonic was fighting Gold and Silver until there was quite literally nothing left. Sonic was given a target to attack, and he kept his focus there, even when other enemies presented themselves.

This also goes for the Werehog and Darkspine Sonic.

He also has the mind to listen to reason—from Eggman, of all people—and stop when it’s clear that he’s finished what he set out to do. Sonic channels his anger to where it needs to be, and it’s clear that Sonic’s moral code and paradigm on life are thoroughly intact.

The only thing that changes is that he’s no longer imposing his usual limits. Sonic is stupidly powerful, even without any power ups. If he ever wanted to kill Eggman, he would have by now. If he ever wanted to kill anyone, he would have by now (and technically, he has).

Sonic throws Erazor Djinn's lamp into a pit, never to resurface, effectively trapping him and ending his livelihood indefinitely.

However, Sonic holds back because he doesn’t want to be an arbiter of justice—he doesn’t want to deprive someone’s chance to be good unless it’s been clear that they cannot be redeemed.

Why I Care About This

It is no secret that I believe that Sonic is a highly emotional character—far more emotional than many give him credit for. It bears repeating that Sonic’s emotions are very big and can be cataclysmic when left unchecked…

…but that’s just part of growing up—growing up as a hero and, damn it, even just a kid.

Dark Sonic isn’t a case of Sonic giving himself to darkness, nor is it a perversion of Sonic’s character. It’s an energetic, chaotically-charged version of Sonic when he is at his angriest—and even then it’s not enough to change his morals or make him lash out unjustly.

Dark Sonic is cathartic, in a way, and I definitely think it deserves its place in canon.

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kneelingshadowsalome · 11 months

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Ok this is very random but how do you think Ghost would deal w an s/o who is still a virgin at a very big girl age 🥴 maybe they’d be seeing each other for a while, and when things heat up and she confesses, how would he deal? Would he be honored and accept being her first or would he reject her altogether bc she is inexperienced?

(Because I’m in my 20s and safe to say on top of everything else in my life except this, I haven’t come across anyone with whom I’d like to be intimate with yet and though I try not to let it get to me, some part of me sometimes feels like a freak or like something is wrong with me)

I hope I did not cross any boundaries or make you uncomfortable by sharing this, if I did I apologize and please feel free to delete this ❤️🕊️

Ghost x FVirgin!Reader Word count: 2,9 k Tags/warnigs: Mild smut, light angst, fluff, comfort, praise & size kink Summary: Reader tells Ghost they’re a virgin while things are about to go down.

A/N: Oh anon!! No boundaries crossed here at all! Your request (or at least I took it as such and got inspired to write a brief oneshot about it) was very sweet. This of course is my HC but Simon would only and only take pride in being your first. He would get a huge ego boost from this and feel absolutely privileged to hear he's worthy of such trust. I think he would want to imprint himself in your head as the best man and the best sex partner you will ever have – he would do his all to eradicate even the very thought of wanting to try others after him. Again, an ego thing, but also a desperate wish to please his partner and make them feel safe. This man screams service top to me. I think Simon has a wild side – not mean, just wild, as in he might be into rough sex and certain types of kinky stuff every now and then but only if his partner is willing. He would be very gentle and considerate (passionate as hell though), knowing you're inexperienced, he would make you feel as safe as possible and wait until you were ready and willing to explore things further. Also, I can't help but be moved by what you told me in this message. I understand where you're coming from with these "is there something wrong with me" thoughts, because gosh, I feel you! And speaking from experience… it's 110 % worth it to wait for the right person to come along! Sex can be awesome, mind-blowing, one of the best things – with the right partner. Not worth it with just whomever, imho. Stay safe and trust yourself! And I hope you like this short drabble I made for Ghost x Virgin!Reader ❤️❤️❤️ much love 😘

Simon Riley was a one of a kind man.

He put every guy on every dating app to shame, and not just with his size. He was manly, in a word, even if you never knew you wanted such an overly masculine man. At least, not until you met him.

Simon was not only sturdy and mature – he was armed with calm rage and dark humor. Just one look in his eyes told you he was not the life of the party. Actually, he was Death himself: one of those four horsemen that heralded the Apocalypse.

Perhaps unintelligibly, the same man was also extremely considerate. A true gentleman if there ever was one. He always placed you and your needs first. But underneath the calm, cynical surface you sensed fierce intensity: fire and smoke, something that screamed Danger, high voltage.

And you could not keep away. Quite the opposite, really. The combination of a wildfire and a tornado roaring upon this solid bedrock of a man was simply alluring.

Things had gone a little too far without you meaning them to. You were not a woman of one night stands, actually, you had never had a stand. But Simon changed that, too. Because now you were thinking about sleeping with him.

After years and years of waiting for someone sensible to come along, you had begun to lose hope, especially when people seemed to fuck left and right while you wanted something real.

A bedrock.

With that wildfire. Perhaps a tornado thrown in as well.

After weeks and weeks of flirting, the man asked you out, and after weeks and weeks of going out, you came to the conclusion that if someone deserved to be your first, it was Simon Riley. If there was any guy you wished would take you against a wall until you begged for mercy, it was him. At least in your fantasies, which were starting to get out of hand.

In real life, things were not that breezy.

Because what would he say if – no, when – you told him you were a virgin at this age? What if he would be bothered, what if things would get awkward between you two?

What if he decided you were simply too much trouble than you were worth?

It seemed like a miracle that the guy was still around, having been left blue-balled date after date. Either he was hellbent on conquering you, or then… Well, you didn't even dare to think about or's and then's and what if's. Especially when your own feelings were getting equally out of hand as those fantasies.

He probably had plenty of experience, and the thought certainly didn't make you feel any better. How would you compare, being not only inexperienced but a whole goddamn virgin? And it would probably hurt on top of everything. This man must be pretty damn big downstairs if 6 '4 feet and large hands were any indication.

Still, all fears flew out the window in record time every time he pulled you into a kiss. Your body molded into his already: the broad shoulders closed in around you, and it only felt thrilling. His warmth, his arms and scent enveloped you like the sweetest prison, and you held onto him as tightly as you could. Not because he wasn't clutching you with the same–if not greater–fervor, but because you wanted to make sure he was real.

And you realized what the allure of Simon Riley was.

He felt safe.

In fact, he was safe. He represented safety in all its aspects.

Who would've thought that death and wildfire could feel so good, so reliable?

You wondered if he thought this was some game; that you kept him waiting. The unwritten rule seemed to be that it was ok not to jump into bed on the first date. If anything, it was only a decent move. But what did the rules say about the second, third or fourth date? Not to talk about tenth?

Things were starting to resemble some prudent high school romance. Well, perhaps not prudent, the way you two practically ground against each other while making out after every date. Without being vocal about it or pressuring you in any way, you could tell he wished for things to go further. Hell, every fiber in this man begged for more. He would soon burn your clothes off simply with that searing gaze alone.

Watching the door close on that heated stare after at least 15 minutes of wanton, wicked kissing followed by clumsy Good night's and shy, apologetic smiles just wouldn't do anymore. The poor man was left breathless and puzzled in the cold night with nothing but a hard-on and the crumbs you gave him to keep him warm.

Things were getting ridiculous, criminally so, and you felt pity for those pants trying to keep him in confinement. You felt pity for your own soaked underwear as you climbed to a lonely bed all hot, bothered, and wet.

Which was why this evening would end with you asking him to come inside.

. . .

Lately, his hands have started to roam; they even cup your ass as he moans in your mouth – and hearing that raspy, low sound leave him forces the final decision. It's the final prophecy that tells you he is the one. You should’ve known it was only a matter of time with him.

The man hides his surprise well as you invite him in.

"Thought you'd never ask," he gives you a soft chuckle before stepping over the threshold to not only your apartment but also your life and privacy.

You barely get out of your shoes before his shadow engulfs you and strong hands lift you in his lap like you weigh nothing at all. You instinctively reach for support by clasping your hands behind his neck.

"You really know how to torture a man, don't you?" The brown in his eyes is nearly swallowed by warm darkness as he carries you to the bedroom.

"I'm sorry," you whisper, and he gives a short laugh of gravel.

"Don't be. This has been fun."

He sets you down next to the bed, and your heart is thumping so bad you fear he can hear it banging against your chest.

"But it's about time I torture you, right?"

Oh God…

Things happen so fast that it’s hard to tell who undresses who, but somehow, you find yourself standing in your bedroom with nothing but knickers and a bra on while he's taking off his pants. The man has definitely waited for this to happen for god knows how long, and it only makes your stomach lurch.

He thinks you know what you're doing, your brain offers when it should know when it’s time to shut the hell up. You can see the generous bulge this man is packing, and while perhaps compelling to other women, to you, it mainly looks intimidating. Threatening, almost.

He doesn't take his boxers off, seeing you're just standing there like some statue, still in your underwear and almost shaking from thoughts running rampant.

His form swallows you as he steps closer; wide hands slide up your arms, then draw you against him – against that demanding pulse that gets trapped between you two. Even through the black cloth, you can tell he's thick and big, just like you feared.

The man is blazing, and seems to have grown another foot in height as he towers over you with all that muscle. His shoulders are almost the size of your head, and you already know the hand that runs down your spine is experienced in crushing windpipes. It makes you breathe in shivers, and of course he notices something is wrong.

"Everything good?" He's eager and breathless, the erection pressing against you like a threat. He’s a man who has fashioned a weapon out of himself, so it shouldn't be a surprise that everything in him speaks violence.

"Yes," you try to assure him – a lousy lie only punctuated by the audible gulp that leaves your throat as you try to swallow your nerves back down.

"You afraid…?"

"Just a little nervous," you tell him, a half confession.

"Mm. That makes two of us."

He draws down into a kiss, the hands of a soldier and a killer nearly drawing you up from the ground as he pulls you close. You don't really buy his claim of being nervous too: you can feel how he throbs between you, heavy and impatient.

Hesitantly, you reach to hug him as well, and you feel so small, so insignificant when wrapped around this… giant. The knowledge that you're about to be trapped under all this crushing weight leaves you both faint and needy.

He’s a good kisser, but as he moves to devour your neck, you start to freeze from the middle.

"Alright… Come here."

He half carries, half lays you down on the bed, then crawls between your legs and changes his tactic a little. Gentle kisses are ghosted down your throat, and soon, he's at your breasts, soft as a whisper. But as he draws the fabric of your bra aside, your nipple is caught inside a hot, wet mouth, and the wildfire surges forth. There’s no way out from under him anytime soon, and you realize the colossal body is already spreading your thighs wide.

The way he already looks so damn good there between your legs: big, the epitome of raw, masculine power… It's almost sinful that a man like him is here with a virgin. It's a whole new hell how he's kissing you gently as fuck while blazing like a bonfire about to engulf and devour you. You want to wrap your legs around his middle, attach yourself to him in any way you can, but your thighs are weak pudding.

You feel both lost and found with him. In him.

He sucks and kisses your breasts like they're the only thing he's here for – and it feels good, heavenly, to be honest. But then he starts to travel down.

Shit… You need to tell him – and soon, or else there will be no time to say anything before the last of the shielding fabric is gone.

"Simon…?"

"Mm-hm?"

He doesn't even stop with the kissing, merely hums on your skin as his mouth reaches your stomach.

"You're my first," you finally force the truth into the night; a soft and desperate fact. It's only the faintest breath, but he halts abruptly like he has been stabbed between the ribs.

Great…

Here comes the awkward.

He rises. Softly, slowly, like a shadow, just a second away from getting to what's between your legs.

"Is that so?"

His voice is hoarse and dark from arousal. The whole man is intoxicating, and your heart is hammering in your chest, both from hunger and dread.

"Yes…?"

A broad hand comes to rest on the dip of your waist; gently, like you're some frightened animal about to dart off from under his touch.

"Love… Are you sure you want to do this?"

Are you? You almost ask, then bite your lip.

He just called you love, something he has never done before. You can see your breasts rising with the breaths you try to calm down with sheer willpower.

He lets out a small sigh, then crawls beside you and takes you in his arms. The bed sags and wails under his weight before your body is pulled into a delicious bear hug.

"Sweetheart."

His voice is so smooth, so different from the intense, rough smoke that has followed you up until this point that you feel vehement tears burn your eyes. First love, and now, sweetheart…

"There's no need to rush things," he says while keeping you close. Ever the gentleman, but you fear that you've ruined everything.

"We haven't exactly been rushing," you mutter somewhere in the plates of his chest. You both feel and hear how another sigh travels up his throat and is breathed into the crown of your head.

"Now… listen to me, ok? I've wanted you ever since we met. Can't deny it. But the last thing I want is to force you to do something you don’t wanna do."

You squeeze your eyes shut from what he says. Ever since you met… You can remember the lingering gazes, the way his eyes lit up with something hopeful and pure, how it drove away the exhaustion that seemed to have made a home in this big, brooding man. You remember how he stole a few stares up and down your body, too; remember the hunger he never even tried to conceal – not until now.

He is the most enthralling being you have ever seen, a mystery and a force of nature, an indomitable man, and to say that you haven't thought about him that way ever since too would be a lie.

"But I want it," you look up at him slowly, feeling much safer now that he's holding you like this.

I want you.

You realize you're pouting when the warm look in his eyes gains a playful glint as he laughs softly.

"You want it?"

"Yes."

That little twinkle turns into a downright gleam as he looks at you like you're the most adorable thing he has ever seen.

“You want it with me?”

“Yes.”

"How much do you want it?" The charred voice is so soft now: it washes over you in generous waves. His hands keep you in safe custody – and you're the most willing prisoner there ever has been.

"Pretty badly?" You breathe into the air between you and see the corner of his mouth tug.

"Well, in that case…" His hand sweeps down your back and comes to reside on the swell of your hip. "I'm glad I'm here to help."

Pale eyelashes drop to your lips just before he kisses you again. You arch in his arms, like a flower leaning towards sunlight; your mouth, your whole being unfurls under his leadership. He rolls partly on top of you, then moves to kiss you all over as you lie on your back: he kisses your chin and neck, your collarbones and the hollow little crevice between them. The hand on your hip brushes down your thigh, then back up, up, until his fingers meet the folds already soaked through the fabric of your underwear.

His touch is soft, but gains more weight as he sweeps slowly up, then brushes a thumb over the exact location of your clit.

"Oh–"

He knows what he's found, even without the evidence of your voiceless shake of a breath. He brushes another stroke over it, and it doesn't matter that you still have your undies on – you can feel his weight, the gentle pressure he applies as he draws a circle to usher another soft moan out of you.

"You like that?"

"Mhm," is the only thing you are able to answer.

"That's it…" he cheers you on with calm assurance. "Gonna make you feel good. And that's a promise."

You catch a hint of ego in that promise, but there's something else, too. A fervent devotion, a bottomless need to please you no matter what. The right man, definitely: not someone who is only after their own satisfaction. You don't exactly need the answer anymore, but you ask the final, burning question nonetheless.

"Simon?"

"Speak your mind, love."

"Are you disappointed…?"

He stops again, a breath away from you.

"Disappointed?" He sounds quite shocked, almost appalled. "...Disa–"

He huffs, then reaches to cup your face. You raise your eyes to his and see that he's…ardent, and very, very serious.

"Love, I'm honored."

You can only blink at the solemn vow, and he slowly shakes his head.

"Silly little thing…"

It's something he muses almost to himself before he drags his fingers over your sternum and down your stomach, reverently, like you're a piece of precious porcelain. But the heat in his eyes is back, and your fingers curl to grasp a fistful of sheet as his hand disappears underneath the cloth, when he finally touches you with nothing in between.

You suppose it's his middle finger that sweeps over your clit this time, then slips between your folds without effort. It coaxes your thighs open to give him better access, and access he has: he curls the finger until it almost dips inside. Your lips part with a quiet sigh as your chin climbs toward the ceiling.

"Look at that… All wet and sweet for me already."

The way you expose your neck is like an invitation: he buries his face in your neck, tries to drown in the scent and feel of you while gliding across the wetness down below. He spreads moisture on the tight bud, and you jerk a little from how sensitive it is – he huffs a smile in your ear. It makes you release the sheet and reach out to grasp him by the neck, to make him stay precisely where he is, close like this, so close…

"Do ya even know how bloody sweet you are?"

The last of your wits make a vanishing act as he breathes more praise on your skin. You're languid in his arms, feeling both weightless and heavy, like you're sinking into the mattress, and then his hand moves lower; one thick finger is plunged slowly inside.

Oh God oh God–

You feel him, all of him, filling and spreading you. And it's not enough… not nearly enough.

"We'll take it nice and slow, alright?" He whispers in your ear, and you tighten around him like on command. "Got all night to make a mess of you. That sound good?"

You can't help it: your lips draw into a smile when thinking about all the things he will do to you, all the sweet things you've always waited to happen.

"Yes."

#ghost x you #simon riley x you #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley fluff #simon riley imagine #ghost imagine #ghost fluff #is this too soft?#is there such a thing as too soft #omg I think I'm part of the Ghost babygirl crew now #i accept my fate #also no beta we die like men

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adelheidvonschicksal · 11 days

Note

Megumi falling in love for the first time?

Attempts at Friendship are Unappreciated

Synopsis: Megumi doesn’t have a need for friends, let alone a lover. But upon getting his first crush, he learns some new things about himself, like maybe he cares more than he thinks.

pairing: Megumi Fushiguro x GN!Reader

content warning: SFW, potential friends to lovers, Megumi sorting out his feelings sort of stuff because cynical, overthinker Megumi is my favorite Megumi.

If you were to ask Megumi, he didn’t have any need for friends. And he has been asked before by people like Gojo and his sister. The answer was always the same. He prefers being alone. People were too complicated. Too selfish. Too good. Too everything, really. And he was, well, himself.

Even after arriving at Jujutsu High, it’s still unnerving to him to have someone talk to him so earnestly, like his eyes weren’t permanently fixed with irritation, like he wasn’t constantly avoiding others, like he didn’t wear indifference like a new fur coat in the height of winter.

Itadori was an unexpected exception. An outburst of emotion intravenously linked him to the other boy, the golden strings of their destinies twined and knotted together on Fate’s spinning wheel.

You, on the other hand, have no reason to befriend him. He’s never had anything to offer others in return for their company, which never bothered him until he met you.

Megumi questioned what it was about you that allows you to get so close. So, he lets you talk, chattering his ear off in the covered walkway hosting the vending machines.

He studies you inch by inch, searching for something in the bright expression on your face and the crinkle of your eyes when you smile; he still doesn’t know exactly what he’s looking for. Your motive – the reason for wanting to talk to someone like him?

“What’s your favorite color?” you ask.

“I don’t have one.”

It may sound like a rude dismissal of your question but it's the truth, the painfully boring truth. He’s never put much thought into trivial things like that. The fact settles heavily in his stomach and rings hollow in his chest like when his sister said he’d never learn to make friends if he didn’t put himself out there.

Back then, Megumi pretended not to have heard her. In truth, it bothered him when she said it, only for the feeling to quickly fade away before he even left school that day. That strange void he felt back then always seems to resurface at the worst of times.

“Would you say that you like black or silver better? How about blue?”

Megumi looks down and plays with the tab on his orange juice can, avoiding the thing about you that makes him want to hear you talk. Megumi has no need for friends. Attempts at friendship aren’t appreciated.

“They’re all fine,” he grumbles out. It’s the maximum he allows.

Megumi doesn’t have a type. It’s another one of those trivial things he’s never bothered to think about until his head was literally cracked through the pavement.

He knows all about types though, and he knows as much as he cares about romance from the bad to the good. Sweaty palms, blushing faces, pounding hearts were all reoccuring themes in his books.

Megumi never thought he’d have romantic feelings for anyone, no matter how fleeting. He reckons he isn’t capable of it. He just isn’t wired that way.

It’s comforting in a sense. It means he didn’t have to worry about attachments. Sure, he loves his sister, and Gojo, well, he cares for his benefactor, but he’s never considered the older man someone he felt okay investing all his feelings into. People his own age were complicated enough; adults were worse, his father was worse; the little he remembers anyway.

When he thinks about the way he met Gojo who too conveniently saved him from the Zen’in clan in exchange for becoming his student, it’s hard for him to let his trust flow purely even after all this time; even when Gojo took it upon himself to do Megumi favors like putting Itadori's room right next door (another thing Megumi didn't appreciate).

Megumi blames his long-seated resentment for the reason his heart starts to work overtime the day you present friendship bracelets to everyone. They’re fancy; many steps above the cheap kind that you’d find at some discount convenience store with plastic alphabets and random beads and symbols. He assumes a couple of the pieces might be real.

Kugisaki’s is green, shining on her wrist like emeralds. Megumi thinks it suits someone like Kugisaki, who would undoubtedly love to be covered in jewels. Itadori has a similar one, rotating with a pattern of red and opaque white pieces.

Standing in that hall, drowning out the conversation between Kugisaki and Itadori about who has the prettier bracelet, Megumi realizes he’s next.

It starts when you step in front of him; there’s a cautious tone to your voice when you say his name because you already know: attempts at friendship aren’t appreciated.

It's with a roll of anxiousness, the one that always comes with the mystery of whether his exchange with someone will be positive or negative and the skeptic thought in his head that reminds him most people always want something in return, that makes him throw up a wall.

“These probably aren’t your thing but I made one for you too,” you preface. “I hope you like it. I wasn’t really sure what to put on it so I made some guesses.”

You’re right. Friendship bracelets aren’t his thing; needing a token like a bracelet to prove your relationship to someone is asinine. It’s against what is supposed to make a friendship special. Strong friendships should need no words, right?

Most importantly, he doesn’t need it, and there’s no reason for you to give him one.

“You keep it,” he starts. However, it’s already too late as you grab his arm and slide the trinket over his hand.

“I don’t—” he starts again; there’s a bit of surprise in the way you look at him, the way everyone stops and looks at him actually. This quickly becomes one of those times where it’d be easier to go with the flow than to fight the current. “Fine.” He clears his throat. “Only because you already made it,” he explains more fully, stifling the embarrassment that wants to bubble from his chest with so much attention.

Like before, he finds himself too focused on watching you, the way your eyes soften from surprise and rejection to shining stars. He thinks this must be how the protagonists in those books feel when heat creeps up their neck. Those books also left him sorely unprepared that it would go past neck to his face and ears.

He breaks away from the situation, finding a way to retreat into the background to shield himself from the gooey feeling permeating the air. He drops his gaze to his arm, focusing on the bracelet with his name accompanied by a repetition of blue and silver, connecting the two—four—of you together.

Megumi fixes his sleeve over the bracelet, but he can’t hide how painfully aware he is of the charms rolling against his skin.

It was both a pleasant feeling and completely alien.

It broke.

Megumi was a bit reckless against a low-level curse, and it broke. He didn’t even realize it until after the battle was over and one of the silver charms were rolling under his foot.

It shouldn’t have been a big deal. It was bound to happen eventually considering this line of work. Yet, he still picked up the few pieces he could separate from the gravel, and the entire ride home his wrist feels unreasonably bare.

Thinking about how he messed up makes him annoyed at himself, especially when he wonders what you’d think if you noticed he wasn’t wearing it. You’d probably think he tossed it somewhere; that he didn’t like it. He liked it. The same way he likes to listen to you talk on car rides home after missions or when you ask him to hang out with you and the others or when you read all the books he recommends with the protagonists that are quickly becoming too relatable with every skipped heartbeat and tongue-tied word. He’s frustrated to acknowledge why that’s the case.

It’s only been three months since the start of the school year, he thinks. It took only three months for his thoughts to start drifting to his classmates, with you almost always center stage in them.

When he arrives back at the school, he finds your room and knocks on your door. He shows you what little remains of the gift you gave him, as if he needs to immediately absolve himself of any wrongdoing.

“Do you want me to make you another one?” you ask cautiously.

Megumi can guess why you’re hesitant considering he only accepted your gift because of peer pressure. He still believes gifts like this are silly and unnecessary.

But…

“If you wouldn’t mind.”

He wants it.

So, he goes into your room where he watches you begin the process of making him another bracelet. You ask him which accessories he would prefer, and like always he doesn’t have much preference other than what you think is best. As long as it isn’t too silly, of course.

He gives his undivided attention to how your fingertips pour over your work kit and the many square boxes filled with different miniature shapes before you carefully pick out one with a little dog face.

“I think this one is good,” you whisper to yourself before continuing your search for another complementing bead.

You smile as you work. It’s nice. Cute even as you bite down on your lip in concentration; and right now, he isn’t quite sure what to do with that information other than note the way it makes his palms feel clammy especially when he notices your eyes lift back up to his.

Megumi notices a lot about you actually. He notices how you always go out your way to get his, well, everyone’s opinion on everything. He notices that whenever you share your snacks with everyone that you always save ginger for him. He notices how your gaze lingers on him when you ask if everyone is in one piece after difficult missions. He also notices how your finger stops over a silver square, one with a little black heart carved in each side. He wonders, perhaps too hopefully, if the charm is just one you think he’d like or if it means more than that.

“Why do you always keep trying to talk to me?” he asks, fighting the urge to beg you to stop getting stuck in his mind so much.

Your head snaps up from what you’re doing.

“What do you mean? We’re teammates,” you answer simply.

“Aren’t missions enough? We don’t need to interact aside from that.”

You pinch your eyebrows at him, and there’s a frown on your face. “Sure we do.”

“There’s no reason.”

It’s not like he ever saved your life, not like Itadori. It’s not like he has a somewhat familial relationship with you, like Gojo. You’re not his sibling or his parent; he’s not the friendlist either so there’s no reason to try to get closer any more than necessary, and there’s no reason for him to be feeling so nervous right now.

“How about because I like talking to you? I think you’re pretty funny, and you’re a kind person.” You shake your head, laughing. “I don’t know. I just like being friends with you.”

Megumi doesn’t know what he was expecting. Some deep explanation why you keep trying to get close to him? Some selfish excuse from you that he could use to warrant pushing you away. A reason to justify why he likes you so much? A reason to hope you like him just as much?

Maybe.

There doesn’t need to be some special reason for you wanting to be his friend, which means he doesn’t really need a reason either.

“I see.”

“Finished,” you say, holding out his newly made bracelet to him. “I poured some of my cursed energy into it, so it won’t break so easily next time.”

Megumi feels calm once again when he feels the weight and roll of the beads on his skin again; the aura of your curse energy humming through it makes the connection back to you much more noticeable.

“What about me?” you ask, drawing his attention. “Do you like being friends with me?”

Megumi can’t answer that, not because he doesn’t have an answer, but because he feels like his tongue weighs more than lead as you lean closer into him.

His eyes find your lips, soft and parted. This is the first time he’s gotten the urge to kiss someone. It makes his stomach whirlwind, and he quickly finds a way to answer you without having to look at you as he picks at one of the charms.

“Can I make you one?”

The next morning, Megumi decides to go out with you and the others for breakfast, which in hindsight was a mistake as Itadori points out the new accesory you’re wearing on your wrist.

“Hey, you got one too now.”

You smile, holding it up proudly. “Megumi made it for me!”

“Megumi?!” Itadori blurts out.

“Made it for you?” Nobara asks with raised eyebrows and a hand on her hip.

“He did a really good job.”

It’s like the time before when you first gave them their gifts, and everyone is looking at him again. “I didn’t do anything special; a monkey could do it,” he mumbles out.

Itadori is the first to crack a laugh followed by Kugisaki. Then, the two of them start muttering and teasing him in unison.

“He’s so modest,” Itadori points out.

“Loverboy,” Kugisaki whispers.

“Can we call you Megumi too?” Itadori asks.

Megumi doesn’t have the patience to consider whether the other boy is being genuine or not as he grits his teeth and growls out a quick “shut up” before konking Itadori on the head to prove his point. It’s enough to make them leave him alone for now as Itadori accidentally trips into Kugisaki from the force.

“That was completely unnecessary, Fushiguro,” Kugisaki grumbles as she pushes Itadori off and stands back to her feet.

Megumi sighs.

This is why he doesn’t want friends.

“Did you just sigh at me!”

“If that’s what you heard,” he tells her.

“You better sleep with both eyes open!”

“I’ll be sure to do that.”

Yet if it’s those two then he guesses having friends isn’t completely unbareable.

Suddenly, Megumi loses focus at the timbre of your laugh.

“You guys are starting early today.”

You’re still laughing at them, harder now actually, and it’s precious. He throws his gaze to the wall as if he’s ignoring Kugisaki and not trying to hide the heat blooming on his cheeks when you glance at him, making him aware that he’s the reason for your laughter.

Megumi shoves his hands in his pockets and rolls his thumb over the bracelet and the heart you left behind there.

Friendship is something he’s coming around to. Having a crush for the first time, well, he still needs work on figuring that out.

#megumi fluff #megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader

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stickandthorn · 1 year

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The way Terry Pratchett handled police in the Discworld continues to be one of the many, many things I love about his works. I certainly don’t have time to describe all the details of why he wrote such good policing, but I think the best summation of it is the arc that Sam Vimes had in many of the books.

I haven’t read all the watch books, but in the ones I have, there’s often a similar plot structure. We meet a truly detestable criminal Vimes is chasing down (think the Deep Downers in Thud, or Carcer in Night Watch). They show themselves to be truly awful people who do awful things, and they’re also just plain jackasses. They’re characters you hate to read about, the grind the audience’s gears. They also grind Sam Vimes’s gears.

Throughout the story, they commit more and more crimes. Horrible crimes, like torturing and killing innocent people, or practicing violent religious extremism. They do things that personally target our protagonist, like go after his wife and son, or relentlessly taunt him and try to kill him and his past self. They consistently do bad things, and even as Vimes is chasing them, they do more bad things. You want them to be punished. Finally, at the climax, we get some sort of final confrontation between the villain(s) and Vimes. In a different book, Vimes might kill the people who sent people to hurt his infant son, or tortured and killed innocent people, and the audience would probably cheer. In fact, Vimes wants to kill them.

But he doesn’t. Every time, he suppresses the urge to enact his own justice, and he doesn’t kill them. He arrests them. Because, as he says many times, if you’ll do something for a good reason, you’ll do it for a bad. Even when there’s every excuse as to why this particular villain doesn’t deserve to live, he just arrests them. It’s not his job to decide how they should be punished for their crimes.

I think this is a masterful takedown of police brutality and Punisher style characters. Vimes isn’t a perfect person, it’s not that he could never dream of killing the bad guy. He can, and he does, often. But he never follows through, he understands why he can’t do that, so no matter how tempting it is, he doesn’t.

Because in this story, the hard boiled cynical cop truly believes in following the law. The message is always that law enforcement killing a criminal is never ok, even if they’re undeniably guilty of something truly dreadful. Hell, police brutality is personified as a millennia old demonic quasi-deity possessing Vimes, one that’s never been beaten before, but he beats it and doesn’t give in. I think that’s a really unique message in cop stories, and another reason as to why Pratchett was such a good author.

#Discworld #Terry Pratchett #night watch #the watch #sam vimes #thud!#not cr #tw police brutality

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perpetuallydaydreaming · 1 year

Text

you don’t really like me, you just think you do.

when james’ feelings did a 180, you find it hard to take him seriously.

warnings: no warnings, not proof read (bc lazy)

tags: fluff & angst, 5.9k wc, getting together, jamie being the best suitor, charlie (not weasely) is also here

when people asks you how it changed, you always say it was sudden.

suddenly, james was everywhere you look. suddenly, james was tripping and falling over you. suddenly, james fancied you.

as sudden as it was, it didn’t shock you as one would’ve expected. you always knew him to be as inconsistent in his school work, so you figured he would be inconsistent towards his feelings as well. what shocked you though, was that he liked you of all people.

all interactions with james had strictly consisted of school related-topics. you were in different houses and different social circles. so when he pulls you aside one morning in-between classes. you had expected one of two things; showing him how to do a bandaging charm, again or him asking you for a copy of your essays.

and it was to your absolute horror, that he proved how wrong you are.

“i like you and i hope you like me too.”

when people asks james how it changed, he always says it was gradual.

gradually, you became something he had looked forward seeing every morning. gradually, you had become a pivotal part of his day, every interaction cherished and replayed in his mind late at night. gradually, he had started falling for you.

as gradual as it was, it came as a complete shock for him. he had only viewed you as a friend, and even that was pushing it. you two barely talked to each other and when you did, it was always about school. you two were always paired up for some reason, and in his mind it became akin to fate. you started to occupy the large space that was once occupied by his lilypad and now replaced by you, your soft smile and the contradicting cynic replies.

and with fate working beside him to get you two as close as possible, james thought you figured the same. you were always so patient wth him, always ready to help him out. but your kindness sometimes came with snarky responses that he found oh so charming and witty. so when he excused you to talk, he had expected a successful attempt in snagging a date with you. even going as far as preparing a bouquet for you, he arranged himself.

and it was to his absolute horror, that you proved how wrong he is.

“um, no.”

and so became the norm. james had made it his life’s mission to actively pursue you. you gotta admit though, if he wanted something. he really goes all out.

it started with a daily routine with you every morning. james would wake up early and wait for you by the main floor near the grand staircase. his back against the rough stones, arms and ankles crossed, a boyish smile on his face the moment he would see you. he would beam a smile, cheeks denting, eyes shinning, and walk to you, offering a pleasant greeting of good morning, gorgeous. my, don’t you look ravishing this morning, grabbing your books and tote to carry for you. the first time he attempted this, you fought hard to deny his services. your hands like claws as you hold your things to your person. though he had hardly blinked then, maybe even looked a bit amused, even going as far as looking excited. the weirdo.

but it had been weeks now and frankly, you had grown tired of fighting with him every morning. especially, when he would always win in the end anyway. so now, you just let him do whatever he wanted. not like you have anything to complain about, your bag has always been pretty heavy.

he would flirt with you. constantly. shower you with compliments about things you hardly even think about sometimes. he had sung praises about your eyebrows the other day, and you had no choice but to bluster through it, to mask your flaming cheeks from embarrassment. but he’s not just all talk either, lately he’s worked up the courage to try to hold your hand — or something close to it. he would slowly walk closer to you, his pink lips going on and on asking you and complimenting you, telling jokes, a diversion—you realize. he would blindly extend his fingers, pinkies first, and when you would feel that first touch to your hand, your heart would do an awful jump. your skin would feel a little bit smaller, your brain blaring alarms, his pinky finger touched your hand, repeat it with increasing traitorous glee. this one, you haven’t stopped fighting. as each time you feel his hand touch yours, you would always create some distance between the two of you, no matter how crowded the corridor is, not that it hardly mattered to him, he looked like he’s won something each time he was successful.

today was no different. before the stairwell could even move, you can already see his dark messy hair waiting for you at one of the floors.

“i say, loverboy’s plenty persistent, hm?” charlie hummed, leaning over the railway, his pale eyes clear with amusement.

you scoff, fingers twitchy on the handle as you see him look up and glow into a smile as he locked eyes with you, “like a rash.” tearing your gaze from james potter down below to look ahead, “that would eventually go away.”

he raises an eyebrow at that, lips quirking into a smirk “really now? he’s been waiting for you every morning for the past months, i think this rash is here to stay. ”

you forced a tight lipped smile, “all in due time, i’m sure.”

clenching your hands when the stairs settle in, you walk down, gently meeting his bright honey eyes.

once you were close enough, he grinned, “good morning my sweet,” pushing himself off of the wall he was leaning against. like some infuriating roguish model. you like to think he practices ways on how he would look leaning against the stone wall. something he would drag his friends into helping him decide which one looked best, no doubt. you almost smile at the thought but stopped yourself when he says, “don’t you look as beautiful as ever.” he hummed.

his robes in his hands, his tie crisp and perfect, his white button-up wrinkle-free. his hair looking like something he’d desperately describe as artfully tousled but could only be ever perceived as messy. his cool bravado contrasting his rosy cheeks and ears. your heart doing that awful thing again.

“well, that’s my cue. see you both later.” charlie waved and you looked, giving him a nod goodbye.

you sighed through your nose, “potter.”

“try not to sound too happy now.” he teased. he let out his palms for you to place your tote and books, and like yesterday and the day before, you give it to him without complaint. “thanks,” you muttered, keeping in a snort of laughter as you see him wear your pink floral tote on his shoulders unabashedly.

“so, are you ready for your ancient runes test today?” he asks, once you two started walking to the great hall.

“how did you—?”

he shrugged, tousling his hair and looking down on you with a proud smile. “i know everything about you, darling.” (and that he does. albeit he had to beg and bribe his way for your friends to start sharing basic information about you. what your classes are, favourite colours, what you like, dislike —because merlin forbid you actually share things about yourself. all without you knowing of course. wouldn’t want you to think of him as weird.)

you gave the weirdo a suspicious stare before shaking your head, “i think i’m ready. i mean, i studied everything i could. i revised three books for it and even did flashcards.”

“well i bet my hair, you’re gonna do just great.” he grinned, softly nudging your shoulder. “you always have.”

rolling your eyes, “thank you, although i don’t really need you hair.”

“well, just tell me which limb you want and i’ll give it to you.” spreading his arms apart, your bag sliding on his arms with his movement. grinning wide and wiggling his eyebrows. leaning into your face.

your face screwing up into a grimace, and pushing his face away with your knuckles, “the same goes for any anatomy or anything you offer me, i’m afraid.”

the persistent blighter just grinned, looking all too proud of himself for whatever reason.

you were about to turn towards the library, but he grabbed your arm and clicked his tongue, “eat breakfast first,” his fingers firmly wrapped around your inner elbow, denting the soft skin there.

“i have to study,” you say firmly, hoping your voice won’t crack.

“you studied enough, now let’s go.” a little tug from him and you were compliant. something he had looked pleasantly surprised by, if the denting cheeks were any indication.

once he felt you weren’t fighting him from pulling you to the great hall, he let you go. warm big hands leaving your arms.

he started talking about his plans, letting you know when he’s available and when he’s busy. asking about yours in turn — and like always sharing nothing. not that he’s deterred. it’s near the hall’s entrance when you feel his gaze at the side of your face, “—after practice though, i’m going to be fairly free the rest of the night.” that familiar lilt in his voice.

breathing in deep, knowing what’s coming next. “so i was thinking, that maybe we could meet up near the lake - have an afternoon picnic.” you turn to look at him and see him rub the back of his neck. the action causing his biceps to bulge out, pulling the fabric taut against his skin. a treacherous thought passing in your mind.

breathing in slowly, you close your eyes to refocus on his face. warm hazel eyes pleading, hopeful, still just like that first time.

“no thank you,” entering the hall just as james opens the door for you.

he frowns, no, pouts. “why not?”

“i just don’t want to.” you walked to your usual seat in the ravenclaw table and james following behind you closely.

“i guess, that’s fair.”

james still in his head, muttering about cancelling with the elves, as he went to unconsciously grab your hand to guide you into your seat. you flushed at the new action, but nonetheless take a seat anyway. he slowly let your bag slip away from his shoulders place it neatly to your side.

“i’ll walk you to the library after you eat, so wait for me, okay?” he smiled gently down at you like you haven’t just rejected him. giving your friends a few nods of acknowledgments before sitting with his friends already there waiting for him.

you hear a few teasing oohs from your friends causing you to get out of your stupor and shoot glares at them. “don’t even.”

it was no public secret that james had been determined to ask you out on a date for the past months. and each time he did, his plans only becoming more elaborate than the last.

the first time he had asked, it was in the corridor in-between classes. people scattering to get where they needed to be. you were no different until a large bouquet with large and colourful flowers arranged messily in wrinkly cellophane and tight ribbons. you remembered his face then, noting how red and shy he looked. he had been stammering and restarting his spiel to you. you saw your friend gesturing for you to hurry, but oddly enough. you stayed rooted to the spot, curious for what’s to come.

“i like you and i hope you like me too!” he might as well be screaming, as the people around you two stopped and stared. the hall now deathly silent, awaiting your response. you flushed at the attention, and grabbed james by the elbow. walking swiftly to the more secluded area at the end of the hall.

once you two were alone, you see those hopeful eyes of his and his nervous smile. his face was still laughably red and the flowers still upright, tightly clutched in his hands.

“um no,” standing up straighter, “i don’t know what transpired for you to do this but, no.”

you can practically see him deflate then, the flowers lowering from his chest to his side. “no?”

“no.”

“i thought—“ he gulped, stepping towards you. but you raise a hand stopping him. clearing your throat before uttering,

“potter, what about evans?”

he tilted his head, hair flopping in his eyes, and a frown on his pink lips. “what about her?”

you scoff a humourless laugh, hands wildly waving in front you. your bag slipping but continued to say,

“what about her? potter, you’ve liked her since—well since, forever and now you want me to believe you like me now?”

“yes.” he nodded, eyebrows scrunching now. looking frustrated like it was obvious.

you laugh in disbelief, muttering lowly, “how fickle.”

“fickle?”

you freeze, shamed he heard you. waving your hands nonchalantly, an easy smile on your face, “you know frequently changes, inconsistent.”

“i know what fickle means, i’m not an idiot.”

you sputter a short laugh at his indignant tone, “what? are you mad at me now?”

huffing through his nose and pouting, “i’m not mad at you, i’m mad at the situation—“

“fickle! you just confessed looking all shy and now you’re glaring—“

“i am not glaring.”

“fickle!” you laugh, pointing at his scrunched up face. his face now red for a different reason.

“i’m not!” he groans, “i really like you and i want to date you.”

reaching up to place a hand on his shoulder, ignoring the way he tensed up and gotten even redder, “no, you don’t. these feelings will eventually pass. trust me.”

james hadn’t replied then, and just as you were about to leave, he thrusted the flowers in your face once again.

“no, potter—“

shaking his head, “no, these are for you. regardless of your answer.” showing you a small dimpled smile, compelling you to take them without anymore argument. the cellophane rustling in your hand. the flowers looking like they’ve been randomly arranged, like someone just chose the biggest and eye catching flowers and bundled it together.

you try not to imagine james picking the flowers himself and getting pink ribbons to tie it all together. tongue poking at his cheek in concentration as he struggles to arrange the flowers like the professionals. it wasn’t an image you saw before, but found yourself easily picturing it nonetheless.

“thank you...”

and you thought that was the end of it. he’ll start to ignore you now because you bruised his pride. maybe even go back to talking to lily evans again.

you try not to think of the swirling disappointment in your stomach, nor the twinge of something else mixed in.

but when you got down from the ravenclaw tower, the next day. off to start your day in the library. there he was, leaning against the wall, arms crossed.

james potter was waiting for you, a radiant smile etching on his face once he saw you.

since then, you had been subjected to various ways james had planned to asked you out. ranging from spelling out your name with an invite in the sky to literally riding a white horse during class and asking if he could whisk you away. all had been met with either an indifferent stares or a horrified wide-eyed gape. after two weeks of feeling complete dread and embarrassment, to the possibilities james potter has in store for you. he suddenly stopped. retiring fireworks and floating parchment of invitations, to normal folded ones inserted in your books. no longer charming his voice so it could be heard all over school to hear him declare his affections, but instead softly asking you in private instead.

it was obvious you had taken a liking to the quieter, more discreet versions rather than the former.

because the first time he did, james had gathered a lock of your hair between his fingers and tucked them behind your ear, whispered low and slow and so close to your ear, as he uttered:

“go on a date with me,”

you were blushing up a storm, then. face warm to the touch and eyes averting frantically to every corner in the library except his eyes. frustratingly aware of his fingers still touching your ear.

he had looked at you then, shock written all over his face before a shy grin took over his face. rubbing his hand over his mouth and tugging the corner of his mouth to stop himself from grinning at your reaction.

he had also been rejected that time but he decided your reaction was reward enough.

you look at your watch and saw you had around an hour left to read up on your other subjects before your first lesson starts.

taking the last few bites of breakfast before james, who had noticed the time as well, had walked over and was already grabbing the things you pulled out of your tote, placing it neatly inside. plopping to the seat beside you.

“you ready to go, pretty?” he quipped.

quickly nodding as you hastily clean your section of the table and said your goodbyes to your friends. pointedly ignoring the wiggling eyebrows and teasing hoots of pretty.

james had offered a hand to help you stand up but you ignored it and stood on your own.

“did you eat a lot?” leaning to have a good look at your face.

you nodded, “a bit. they had scrambled eggs, so i had a full plate.”

james nodding, a happy smile on his face. “good, good.” turning to look in front of him and opening the heavy doors for you all the while adjusting your tote on his shoulders. “listen, there was a schedule change for pitch practice so i’ll be a bit busy starting tomorrow. i’m sorry, sweets.”

“okay.”

he hummed, thoughtful. “i’ll try to still be around and walk you to your classes in between breaks—we’ll see how that goes. try not to miss me too much, yeah?” a teasing smile on his lips.

you rolled your eyes, oblivious to the days ahead.

“oh,” charlie said, leaning over to the railing.

“what?” following his gaze and looking over to the glaringly, strangely vacant spot. “oh,”

now staring at you with a teasing glint in his eye. “i see mr. loverboy’s not in today.” the smirk on his face making you roll your eyes.

“managed to finally scare him off, did ‘ya?” he supplies.

“if only,” crossing your arms, “he said he’ll be busy with quidditch practice.”

when the stairs settled in, charlie turned to you. “it’s certainly nice to know he has other hobbies other than bothering you.”

“bothering me?” adjusting the strap of your tote on your shoulder.

he quirked an eyebrow, an inquisitive look on his face “he doesn’t bother you anymore?”

“nonsense, you know he does.”

“interesting,”

you look at him with a frown, hating the teasing, the all knowing tone he always uses when you missed something. “what?”

“nothing!” you gave him an exasperated stare and raised your eyebrow, raising his hand in the air and chuckled, “i just noticed you getting a bit soft on ‘im, that’s all.” tapping his chin, “you don’t look that bothered to me, is what i’m saying. and you never say so anymore.”

your face warmed. is that what it looked like to others? is that potter thinks? that you’re going soft on him now? you scoff, tightening your hold on your bag and adjusting the sliding strap. “do i really have to announce it every time i’m pissy with him?”

he’s humming, a certain skip in his step that makes you want to trip him, “no, but i can tell you’re at least tolerating him now. friends, maybe?”

“tolerating does not equate friendship, sorry to say.” you know, it isn’t. being with james doesn’t feel at all like how it is with charlie.

“an assistant then?” mirth clear in his eyes as he said that. charlie the pale mutt having way too much fun with this.

pursing your lips in an annoyed frown, “i’d like to think he doesn’t qualify enough to be my assistant.” adjusting the slipping strap of your bag.

he laughs, grabbing your tote off your shoulder, and sliding it to his. “you’re not even used to holding your bag anymore, since he always carry it for you.”

“so?”

“so,” looking pointedly at you, as he counts on his fingers, “he’s not a friend, he doesn’t qualify to be your assistant… what is he then?”

you blinked, the question wasn’t anything new. if anything it was a question you started hearing quite frequently, after james potter’s many attempts to woo you. the questions before, however, carried a chaffing tone meant to tease or pull a reaction. but now, with charlie peering curiously at you, and the many weeks you’ve talked with james. the question now carry a different tone.

but still you remain nonchalant, regardless of the warming cheeks and ears. you huffed,

“a pet.”

it was on the same day after one of your classes when you saw him waiting for you. he was still wearing his practice kit and gloves. it looked as if he had rushed over here, with his hair windswept all the more messier than usual. his hazel eyes more alert, brighter—something you find always happens after he plays.

he looked up when he saw the swarm of students leaving the room, eyes immediately meeting yours and the familiar smile that goes with it. his cheeks tinted pink, maybe from the cold wind gushing outside or, dare i say it, seeing you. you ignore the spreading warmth in your stomach, your skin shrinking and your judas heart thudding like a fluttering hummingbird.

the smile he shot your way, was a soft little smile. something you learned he did if he was sorry about something.

“hello, sweets.” he said once close enough. he had reached out then, grabbing your things out of your arms and you giving it to him out of habit. “did you have a good morning?”

your voice seemed to be unresponsive as you just nodded. still raking over his face and figure. like it was your first time seeing him, an urge to reach out. as if you didn’t see him yesterday.

“sorry, i wasn’t there to greet you in the morning.” rubbing the back of his neck. “the team wanted an early practice.”

“oh, i barely noticed.” you lied.

a lie he seems to have caught on himself, if the bashful smile on his face is anything to go by. his cheeks with pretty divots— an urge to dig your thumbs in there greater than ever. no, you think. clenching your hands tight to your sides. fucking charlie with his absurd ideas.

when the last student left the hall, the two of you were left in silence. him staring sparkles at you and you desperately avoiding it.

clearing your throat, you started to walk in the direction of your next class.

“anyway it’s fine, you’re captain now. so more responsibilities is inevitable, i say.”

he slipped your bag into his shoulders and started rearranging your books in his arms. “you know i made captain?”

“you told me, didn’t you?” you frown. you could have sworn he did. it was the day he had drawn hearts all over the margin of your notes, writing both yours and his initials in a heart. the sopping sap.

he stood up straighter, eyes widening in wonder. “you remembered,”

“is that so surprising?” clicking your tongue, slightly offended he thinks you would disregard the things he says. you had manners.

he immediately shook his head, a bright smile took over his face that you had no choice but to look away.

“i’m more surprised you actually have the time to even walk me to class.”

he shakes his head, “i’ll always make time for you!” he exclaimed, slightly bumping your shoulder. “did you think i’d let you go on a day without seeing my face at least once?”

“ah yes, because seeing you is such a gift, no?” you said, you’re voice void of emotions. but he continues undeterred.

“and because i’m so generous, i’ll try to meet you like this tomorrow too.” he beamed, puffing his chest.

a clear image enters your brain. you think of james rushing from the practice grounds to the classrooms in the higher floors. imagine him barely having anytime to rest or even drink water if he were to walk you to your classes and go back to the pitch in time. imagine himself slump against the stone wall in front of the door, steadying his breathing so he wouldn’t look tired or worn, putting on his usual, irritably handsome smile. you imagine him having to rush back, making him even more tired than he has to be. imagine him not performing his best.

the image vivid in your head because he would most likely do just that. and that fact didn’t sit well with you for some reason, “what for? won’t that be an inconvenience to you?”

“it’s not an inconvenience.” he says lightly.

“but isn’t the practice field far from here?” you frowned. it was at two flights of stairs, and a long walk to the covered bridge to the school grounds to the quidditch pitch. it had to be at least a 15 minute walk

his smile slowly started to leave his face as if sensing something wrong. “not that far—” turning to look at you.

you raise an eyebrow, as if scolding, “didn’t you rush over here?”

he shook his head, curls strands flopping over his eyes, “only a little bit—“

“potter, you don’t have rush over here for that.”

“but how can i walk you to your next class if i don’t hurry?”

“that’s what i’m saying,” rolling your eyes, “you don’t have to walk me to class, we can just focus on our own thing for a while—“

now a small frown on his face, “but i want to.”

“and i’m telling you, i don’t need you to. you can focus on your training more rather than rush to walk me in-between classes.” waving off as if it was nothing. you didn’t want him giving up precious break time for something menial like walking you to class.

he stops walking, eyes now filled with frustration. you groan inwardly, plenty sure you won’t be able to reach your class in time. “i just want to spend a little bit of time with you, is that so bad?”

you laugh awkwardly, “this is barely spending time with each other. it’s just a walk to class—”

“so what? you’re saying no to walking with me now?”

you groan out a laugh, pushing your hair out of your face. the idea of it creating an unpleasant twist in your stomach. “that’s not what i’m saying,” softly rubbing your temples, already feeling the migraine forming over the escalating topic.

“then what?”

“spending a little time apart is better, i don’t need you doing all of this for me. carrying my stuff and walking me to class, or waiting for me in the morning. i don’t need any of it. so apologizing or trying to make up for it is unnecessary.”

he laughs in disbelief, “unnecessary?” he parrots, “why can’t you just let me do things for you? why do you always have to fight with me about everything?”

“i don’t want you to!” you exclaimed.

he is being difficult. you were just saying this for his sake. he was the one who said he needed to practice more and now that you tell him to focus on that, he goes off on you.

“i know, but i want to do these things for you because i like you! this is what people do when they like somebody, y/n. they do stuff for them without being asked to.”

rolling your eyes, just ready to end the conversation as you spew the things in your brain mindlessly. “oh seven hells! you don’t like me! you just think you do!”

he took a step forward eyes blazing in irritation, “and you just know that for sure, yeah?”

“yes, potter. i know this for sure.”

he scoffs out a disbelieving laugh, “why is it so hard for you to take my feelings seriously?”

you took a step back, not expecting his question. “what?”

“did someone hurt you before?”

“no-“

“lie to you? trick you?”

”no, what—?”

“then i don’t understand,” staring at you, eyebrows scrunched and hazel eyes blazed with sadness. “is there something wrong with me—?”

you were about to reach out to him, apologize. or clarify. or anything just to make him stop looking like that.

“why can’t the person i’m interested in, like me back?”

you stop, an ugly green emotion engulfing your chest. of course, you thought. your next class be damned. as you face contorts into a sneer as you spat out the words,

“so that’s what this is about?” you scoff, “years of rejection from evans, you turn to the easiest target you can get, so you can feel good about yourself?”

anger taking over his face, “what—?”

“just admit it, you’re pursuing me because you’re frustrated she didn’t reciprocate your feelings.”

“—you think i see you as someone easy? you think i would actually do that to you?”

you straightened your posture, “you can’t be mad at me for simply laying down the facts.” completely disregarding the fact you’ve implied you’d be a willing participant to his wooing if he weren’t so fickle.

adjusting the strap of your bag on his shoulder, mumbling, “i can’t believe this.” and now in a louder voice. “and what are your facts, then?”

“you claimed to love evans, fact.” he scoffs, but you continue. “she rejects you, fact. you start to realize there are other girls in our year and then you see little ole me, fact. you start to build unto this idea of starting something with me because for whatever reason your brain seems to think it’s a good idea, fact.”

shaking his head, “even if that were all true, i like you now.”

“and how long until that changes too?” you counter, looking straight at him. angry tears building in your eyes.

“what? it’s not going to change. ” he stepped forward, and you step back.

“you have been nothing in life but be inconsistent.”

his face twists into a frown. “that’s not true,”

“oh really?” you nodded, your voice getting louder in the quiet halls, “you were the best student during our first year but then you stopped trying. you were on your way to becoming a prefect until you decided you didn’t want to anymore. you were going to turn down becoming captain if it weren’t for black threatening to quit unless you accepted. i mean, really james potter,”

a bitter laugh came tumbling out of your mouth, “you’ve been in love with this girl ever since you were eleven, and now you aren’t.” you breathed, “how will i know you won’t stop liking me too?”

looking into his eyes, waiting for an answer that doesn’t come, you grabbed your bag and books from him and walked away.

“that’s what i thought.”

you didn’t see james after that. not in the morning after and not in-between classes. you thought it was because of quidditch practice again. but when the week ended and still no sign of him, you felt something heavy drop in your chest.

you labelled it as guilt (though charlie have insisted it to be something else—something else he refuses to tell).

guilty you raised your voice and basically criticized him for doing something nice for you. started overthinking you might’ve struck a nerve you shouldn’t’ve, considering you weren’t really friends to begin with. charlie did always say you were a bit loose with your choice of your words. you were the type to offend somebody even without meaning to, he says.

now, it has been days since you last spoke to james and things hasn’t felt right since.

your tote bag keeps slipping off of your shoulder. your books seems heavier now and harder to hold. now, the eggs served at breakfast were never scrambled— always a shitty sunny side up. you can’t concentrate in class. you keep looking for a tall head of curly hair, everywhere you go and you keep feeling the inevitable disappointment when it isn’t the person you were looking for.

it was getting harder and harder keeping your usual composed demeanor. and if charlie noticed anything different with you, he didn’t say anything. until now that is,

“okay this whole thing is getting pathetic.” he sighed. plopping down next to you in the ravenclaw common room.

you look at him, frown seemingly placed permanently on your face nowadays. “i’m sorry?”

he nodded, “yeah, you should be sorry. because you let a good bloke like potter go.” you sat up, “and all because of your refusal to accept that he might actually like you.”

you roll your eyes grumbling, “you don’t know anything,”

“i know you like him,” he huffs, “and for some reason you refuse to admit it.”

you took a deep breath, the glare you had on, softening as you look away.

you didn’t bother correcting him because, well, he was right. you had been dancing around your feelings for so long, you were sure the mask of indifference had already slipped off without your knowledge. you slumped, a whispered sigh as you muttered, “why would i even bother? i know he’ll change his mind.”

charlie had looked taken aback, clearly he expected more fight from you. you huff, you weren’t so emotionally inept that you would continue to deny it any longer. considering how long you’ve been denying yourself of the truth. maybe just a smidge of denial still, but seeing how that rather blown up in your face, it was time to face the music.

and after a while he said, “did he tell you that?”

fiddling with your hands, you say scoffing, “did he tell me he’ll eventually leave me? no,”

“are you clairvoyant then?”

you huff a short laugh, “you know, i think that’s rubbish.”

he offered a smile, “then how do you know he’ll change his mind?”

you sigh, shrugging your shoulders, “i don’t know,”

“and you’ll never know unless you get up and tell him you like him.”

“but what if he changes his mind?” looking at your friend properly now, “what if he suddenly decides he doesn’t like me anymore. hell, he probably doesn’t anymore.”

he shook his head, “he hasn’t. he won’t.”

“but what if?” you whine.

rolling his eyes, “on the off chance that he does, then at least you can say you tried. that for a short while you were happy.“ patting your back, “and isn’t that better?”

you scoff, looking away. “no, that’s definitely worse.”

it was a two days after you and charlie had a talk. and it was during these two days that you and your friends discussed ways on how to make up with james.

you’d think a group of ravenclaws could come up with clever ways to solve your problems. but when one of your friends suggested painting a mural for their honour, and another telling you to pretend like you passed out in front of him—made you realize your friends were as hopeless as you are.

but it turns out, you didn’t really have to.

you were on your way to the ravenclaw tower, when it happened.

you saw james walking towards you. strides large and with purpose. you can practically see his eyes blaze with determination.

you were never big on confrontation, especially when you’re the one being confronted. so you did what anyone would have done, turn and speed walk the other way.

you were about to turn the corner of the hall, out of his sight when you hear him call out to you.

“y/n please,”

you stop, the desperation in his voice echoing in the halls. you hear his footsteps behind, speeding its pace. before slowly turning around to face him.

“james i-“

he shook his head, breathless as he says, “you know i’m a bit cross with you.”

you nod, “yes. you should be, i-“

“you didn’t let me respond to you that day.”

“what?”

his lips pursed, “when you asked me, if i’ll stop liking you.”

you shook your head, embarrassed. “no, you don’t have to-“

“i don’t know if i’ll stop. all i know is, i like you y/n. and i’m not going to say it’s always been you because i did like her.” he looked at you, eyes clear and sure as ever,

“i liked her when i didn’t even know what liking someone meant. and when i did, i realized it wasn’t the like i thought i had for her. i admired her, sure, but what i felt for her is not even comparable to what i feel for you now. you make me want to become a better man. you make me want to make something of myself. you keep me grounded but you also make me feel like i could fly. you’re the most amazing person, i know and it’s frustrating to think you don’t see yourself the same way i see you.

“and i know you like me too, you can try and pretend all you want but i can tell. because you always listen to me even when you pretend not to. you always have a small smile on your face whenever i come see you in the morning. and then you act as if you don’t care. you always refuse my gifts at first but i know all the things i’ve given you is still in your room. i know you turned the first bouquet into bookmarks. you like me as much as i like you and i know part of the reason why you won’t acknowledge it is because you’re scared. and i can’t exactly blame you because of that. but i’m willing to prove to you that you have nothing to be afraid of. i’ll study harder in school, i’ll take up more responsibility, i’ll prove to you, i can see things through. if you could just give me a chance because you make me want to try, dammit.”

he took a couple of steps forward until he was right in front of you. reaching for your hand and softly engulfing yours with his. never realizing how big it is compared to yours. when you didn’t pull away, he looked at you in the eyes, adjusting his grip so it was intertwined and softly breathing out the words,

“every time i look at you, i feel like my heart is about to jump out of my damned chest. i like you, y/n. i like so much i already wrote to my parents about you.“

he looked at you so softly then, eyes wide in hope.

what do you say to that? james potter the most charming boy in school, your crush ever since you were a first year, likes you. you bit your lip, fighting the growing smile on your face and failing as you utter back,

“all good things i hope.”

he gives a dimpled grin back, “the best, truthful things.”

you cleared your throat, “well, james potter,” tightening your grip on his hand, your meeting that meeting hazel.

“i like you, and i hope you like me back.” you whisper, ignoring the hummingbird in your chest, the alarms in your heads and the tightening skin.

he bit his lip and pulled you flush against him. arms now wrapped around your waist. “no,” he breathed out a laugh, grabbing your cheek before leaning in and slotting his lips with yours into a giddy kiss.

your thumbs slipping into the pretty divots in his cheeks, as soft and smooth as you’ve always imagined them to be.

#perpetuallydaydreaming #james potter #marauders era #james potter imagine #james potter fluff #james potter x reader #harry potter #harry potter imagine #james potter fanfic #marauders #marauders imagine #marauders fluff #james potter x you #james potter x ravenclaw!reader #ravenclaw!reader #getting together #james potter fanfiction #james potter angst

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pacifymebby · 5 months

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*slides a crisp $20 bill across the table* peaky boys reaction to the reader that gets excited any time they see them, like they literally light up with excitement, even if they just saw them~

Hiiii sorry this took so long and i hope i manage to do it justice ♥️

Tommy

🌿 He's alarmed by it at first, almost thinks its a little silly... Suspicious is perhaps the right word? Tommy is used to people performing for him, pretending to be something they're not, acting the way they think he wants them to act... Usually because they want to get something from him.

🌿So yes, at first he is cynical, he doesnt believe for a second that you're really so pleased to see him... Usually when Tommy enters a room that room falls silent, people shiver, people's mouths run dry... conversations go unfinished... a shadow passes over all he passes by.

🌿 Unless you're in that room... if you're in that room everything is different, your eyes light up, your whole demeanour brightens, you practically jump out of your seat and rush to him... you clasp his hand in yours and practically drag him to your table desperate to tell him all about your day and hear all about his... it's like he's the sun in your sky and he doesn't know what to think, only that somehow someone must have put you up to it, or perhaps you yourself are playing a game of mistruth. Attempting to deceive him...

🌿 The thing is he can't work out any alterior motive, theres no reason as far as he can tell, that you would want to cosy up to him or flatter him like this... And if you did, well, he can't help but think you'd be smarter than to think squealing and throwing your arms around him every time you see him is the best way to go about that...

🌿 But he can't bring himself to believe you're innocent, that you're being genuine... he wants to, really desperately wishes he could join you on your apparently care free sunny side of life but he can't... it's not like he hasn't been burned before...

🌿 So he's stand offish with you at first, always telling you to settle down, smirking at you, he almost seems a little embarrassed about the attention you're throwing at him... which is unusual for him because it's not like he isn't used to women flirting with him.. perhaps it's that this isn't flirting in the way he's used to.

🌿 It's warmer, more innocent. There's no games being played, not the way he's used to... and he gets very irate about it, feels he has to nip whatever trick you're trying to play in the bud immediately.

🌿 So the next time you rush to him throwing your arms around him he snatches your wrist in his hand and drags you away, into a lonely room, he sacred you with his sudden temper, the angry way he traps you between him and the door, finger pointing accusingly in your face...

🌿"Right miss l/n whatever this is eh, whatever you're playing at it ends right now you hear me? Right now..." you don't know what to say to him, speechless with fear, eyes wide and filled with tears as you stare up at him in shock. "Wh...what are you..." you start stuttering, your heart thudding in your chest, your stomach heavy like it's filled with stones so sad and disappointed because you love him and it looks right now like he hates you...

🌿 "Don't give me that love, I know you want something so you can drop the act... Whatever you want right, you do what everyone else does, you book an appointment with Lizzie and you book your turn!"

🌿But the minute the cold words leave his mouth he regrets them, the way you resolve falters, the way your eyes brim with tears... Your whole demeanour changes, you shrink away from him, as if it hurts to touch him. You can't look him in the eyes and he wonders if perhaps that hurts too now. Because you don't just love wildly, you hurt wildly too and he's wounded you mortally with his icy words and his cynicism...

🌿He knows straight away that there was no act, that you'd been nothing but genuine from the start. That perhaps your actions might have seemed a little childish, but that ultimately there was no harm in them. Or in you. You are just a very sweet girl who, for some god only knows reason, really loved him...

🌿 "Fuck I'm sorry love..." he sighs reaching for your hand, deciding better of such a halfhearted gesture and instead engulfing you in a warm embrace, holding you tight and secure, rocking you side to side, eyes closed, savouring every second he had with you in his arms. When he kisses your hair he breaths in your scent, looks down at you with these deep apologetic eyes, "Sorry love, forget myself sometimes... Get so wrapped up in me own head that I forget who I'm dealin with sometimes..."

🌿 "Its been three days since I saw you last.. I just missed you Tommy, I'm sorry I won't..." you begin to tell him you won't do it again, about to apologise for everything but he cuts you off, finger to your lips all, "no, no don't do that, please don't tell me you won't do it again love, please don't think I don't enjoy seeing you smilin eh? You keep smilin whenever you feel like smilin eh love, promise me you'll do that for me?" he says kissing your cheek, your nose, all over your face as hes talking to you, holding your cheek in his palm, his eyes so serious when he looks into your eyes waiting for an answer...

🌿 You're so confused, ten seconds again he looked like he hated you and now he's holding your face in your hands, smothering you in feathered kisses.

🌿"But..." you start your little frown would be adorable if he didn't feel so guilty for putting it there in the first place..."but tommy I don't understand you just said..."

🌿"Never you mind what I just said eh, I was wrong... Doesn't happen often sweetheart but sometimes, perhaps.. I am wrong." He says stroking your cheek, brushing your tears away... Because now that he knows this isn't a trick, now that he knows he can trust you, that this is safe, he's relieved to let his guard down, relieved to trust you the way he's wanted to for some time, relieved he can finally kiss you, taste a little of that sunshine you seem abundant in.

🌿He will make you promise him that you'll forget what he told you, that you wont stop smiling, and when you do he'll kiss you quickly on the lips and pat your cheek, "very good angel, good girl."

🌿Because the truth is that his cynicism before was just a defense mechanism. He hasn't seen someone light up the way you do for him for such a long time and he didn't want to believe you could really be so excited to see him, because believing that fact meant accepting that you really do love him, that in many ways you depend on him, that there are plenty of opportunities to let you down.

🌿The way he sees it, if he can make you that happy he can also make you twice as sad and he's seen that now too, just now when he almost broke your heart...

🌿In truth he loves your sweet ways, the way you rush to hug him, to hold his face in your hands and kiss him, without a care for who may be watching. He loves to see the light in your eyes when your whole face glows with joy thats because of and intended just for him.

🌿 Tommy is for the most part, a difficult man to read, he's reserved, always calm, his poker face was mastered at birth... You on the other hand wear all your feelings on your sleeve. Even if you wanted to hide how you felt about something you're pretty sure you couldn't. Somewhere between you and tommy there should be balance, you should even one another out. That isn't what happens however. If anything the contrast makes the both of you seem more extreme. You look giddy and wild in comparison to Tommys quiet, still nature. He looks dead behind the eyes, ice cold and unfeeling in comparison to you.

🌿 But it works, ultimately you need someone calm and he needs someone like you to remind him that there are still happy people in the world. That he still brings someone joy and meaning in life.

🌿 He does kind of wish you'd develop some kind of poker face though because he knows it isnt good for people to see you behave so childish and naïve, it puts you at risk. Makes you look like an easy target. Someone as sweet and pure as you sticks out like a sore thumb in Small Heath and he knows that every other bad man, men like him, out there will see you as an opportunity. Because sweet girls like you are the hardest to ignore when they cry. They'd make you cry to get to him.

🌿But what can he say, theres so much dark in the world and not enough people know joy, someones gotta let the light in from time to time and its good that you do.

🌿So when you run and throw your arms around him, burying your face into his chest he will wrap his coat around you and hold you just as tight. He'll let you smother him in kisses and embarass him with your relentless affection and he'll just chuckle, kiss you back and, eventually say something like "settle down now love, you'll make our company jealous..." He's only teasing you, always lighthearted, he'll never make the mistake of being harsh with you again.

🌿But he will lower his head and whisper a reminder to you, that there are peolple watching, that sometimes its better to keep your feelings concealed.

🌿He won't stop you though. After that first time when he scared you, sapped the life from you with two short thoughtless sentences, he has made an effort never to try and reign you in like that again. You're his sunshine girl and that's the way he wants you to stay forever.

🌿 In fact your happy go lucky excitable nature makes him more determined to protect you from the world. He doesn't ever want you to lose that joy, never wants to see you tired or worn out or disappointed. He lives every day with one thought heavy on his mind - he has to keep the sun in the sky for you. Can't ever let you feel the rain.

🌿One day you pull away having smothered him in your usual affections in front of his brothers and Ada and when you see the faintest tint of pink in his cheeks you smile coyly, "my my tommy shelby do my eyes deceive me or is that a blush I see before me?"

Alfie

🐻 Alfie Solomons is a grumbling old eccentric, a tired out, miserable, sharp tongued misery old git and you... you the most lighthearted, melodramatic, delightful girl he has ever met...

🐻Doesn't know what you're so happy about but he knows he'd be a fool to suggest you wipe that giddy little smile off your lips... because that giddy little smile is the prettiest smile he's ever seen and knowing it's all for him makes him feel so hopeful.

🐻 The first time it happened - the gasp, the jump, the gleam in your eyes as you threw yourself into his arms - he was floored by the shock of it... He isn't used to positive attention from women at the best of times, especially not pretty young women like you... Even if you have been sweet on eachother for a little while, even if you have been seeing one another in secret for several weeks...

🐻 So when you saw him across the street at the market and let out a gasp, waving to him from across the road before darting in front of a cart to throw yourself into his arms he almost fell over, wasn't prepared, couldn't believe his eyes... Couldn't believe the speed at which you came barrelling towards him...

🐻You took him completely by surprise but he caught you, just about. The two of you nearly fell over in the bloody road but he caught you, his big arms closed around you, squeezing you just as tightly as you held onto him. He wrapped you up in one of his bear hugs and chuckled at your enthusiasm. He was confused but he wasn't going to pass up the opportunity to hold you nice and tight. To show off to the whole street that you were his girl and you were ecstatic to see him...

🐻 "Now," he chuckled, smiling into your hair as he cradled your head to his chest and pressed a kiss to your temple, "I'm wondering my little ziskeit, what exactly all that was about yeah... You coulda got yourself killed runnin into the road like that and forgive me poppet but I ain't entirely sure I understand what was so exciting to you that you forgot yeah, to use your street smarts yeah?"

🐻 "Sorry Alfie..." You shrugged his worries off so easily, that girlish smile on your lips unfailing, it was almost infuriating and yet, it was far too pretty for him to really get annoyed at you... So a peck on the lips is what you get for being so thoughtless, a "you're lucky you're so sweet y/n... Or I might get cross with you..."

🐻 He is always having to remind you he isn't as young and strong as he once was, that you've got to be careful with him, you've got to slow down... You've got to think of his old and failing body yeah, "I'm fallin apart ziskeit and all these theatrics yeah, they're speeding up the process so just... Take a breath right and settle down..." When he sees your simmering pout he softens again, drops the grumpy old man act and coos to you, "I know poppet I know, you're just happy to see me right... God knows why yeah, god knows why..."

🐻 He's always teasing you about your excitement, reckons it's cause you're young, tells you "not to worry ziskeit, you'll grow out of it..." But he hopes with his whole heart that he's wrong, that you never will lose this bubbling joy.

🐻 And though you think he's simply teasing you, playing that grumpy old man act, he really isn't... Deep down part of you knows he really does wonder why, doesn't understand why you love him the way you do, why you're always so happy to see him, why you don't mind showing the whole world how happy to see him you are...

🐻 And that makes you all the more stubborn to show him that love, to shower him in melodramatic affection every time you see him so that he can't ever forget or try to ignore the fact that whilst you might be his little ray of sunshine, he's the one who puts the sun in your sky.

🐻 He's the only one who can make you that happy, the only one who can spark that level of excitement in you, leave you all head in the clouds giddy whenever you see him but he's also the only one who's able to calm you, able to soothe your excitement and get you to settle down. Knows exactly how to talk to you to get you to come sit in his lap and enjoy a little peace and quiet with him.

🐻 There's this look he gives you when you're beaming at him across the room and he can see that you're bursting at the seams with excitement to be bundled up in his arms, it's this look which says "come here then," but which is stern enough to remind you not to run, remind you to be careful.

🐻 And when he squeezes you in one of his bear hugs and kisses your forehead he talks soft and low, so calmly to you that although he can't settle your ever fast beating heart he can slow those wild thoughts of you down just enough to see you let out a little sigh and nestle into his cosy embrace. "That's better ziskeit, you even remembered to check the road this time see, a good girl, that's what you are darlin..."

🐻 But he does think youre adorable when you get excited and he feels so proud that its him youre excited to see. Honestly it's hard to keep up his grumpy, cold-hearted mobster act with you around relentlessly brightening his day.

Arthur

🍂 Honestly he is completely baffled by you, he just can't get his head around it... what the hell are you so excited about? No one ever looks happy to see him... It really puzzles him and he spends days getting frustrated, trying to get to the bottom of it, asks his brothers whats "the matter" with you, asks his sister who just laughs at him, says "good god Arthur if you can't even get your head around that there really is no hope for you..."

🍂 When Ada does spell it out for him "she likes you you big idiot..." He blushes, gets even more confused and a little embarrassed... That isn't usually how girls show him they like him.. they're usually far more coy, they usually try that sophisticated flirting, they usually want him to buy their drinks and then fuck them senseless in the toilets...

🍂 Then he's flustered wondering if that's what you want him to do to him...

🍂 He'll go bright red and Ada will slap him because she knows exactly which pits his mind has wandered to... "For fuck sake Arthur if you used your head half as much as you use your cock you might not need me to spell these things out for you..."

🍂 The next time he sees you he's nervous, he can't stop wondering if you're going to do that thing you always do again? If you're going to make that noise... The little squeal of excitement you made last time, it was shortly followed by a skip, your eyes wild as you called out to him from across the room. That little giggle of glee when you waved to him and then appeared ever so suddenly by his side...

🍂 And when you do he's unnerved, he's paranoid... He wants his sister to be right but this is just so unusual for him... People are usually fucking terrified of him after all, he's nothing but Tommy Shelby's big brute, the rottweiler as he's often referred to.. how can a girl as blissful as you like him when she's heard the rumours about him... With his reputation how could anyone possible be giddy, head over heels happy to see him?

🍂 So he gets all in his head about it, starts thinking it's some kind of joke, perhaps his brothers or one of the lads set you up to this as a prank, perhaps someone is secretly trying to make a fool of him. The disappointment is tangible and he swallows a lump in his throat as he looks at you again, waving to him from across the room. Are you really playing a trick on him? Is this all to humiliate him?

🍂 When he turns away, hardly even smiles at you you're left confused and a little disappointed. Your heart sinks and you get up to join him at the bar where he's lined up three whiskeys.

🍂 "Are you upset about something Arth?" You ask, your touch on his arm sending sparks of hope through his heart, "you look all gloomy..."

"Aye that's me eh, gloomy... Not like you eh, a little ray of fuckin sunshine ain't ya..." he doesn't smile when he says it, in fact he almost sounds bitter and you bite your lip a little uncertain.

"I'm just.. happy to see you Arthur... I know it's only been a few hours but... Well I kissed you didn't I..." you admit.. you're not exactly embarrassed to admit it but you do feel a little silly now that you're spelling it out to him.

🍂 "Did... Did my..err.. did my brothers put you up to this or somet love?" He's feeling pretty embarrassed to ask it but he wants to know because if you are he wants to stop being teased and if you aren't well, he wants to kiss you actually.

🍂 And when he asks you laugh, your giggle lighting you up, lighting him up too when you shake your head and tell him not to be so daft, when you can't stop giggling at what a silly thought that is. "As if I'd want to help your brother's play a nasty trick on you you big idiot..."

🍂 He can't keep the grin off his face, lighting up immediately, his hands on your hips dragging you in close to him, holding you tight in his hands when he chuckles along and says "eh well in that case then," before planting a rather passionate kiss on your lips.

🍂 Arthur loves to layer the physical affection on thick, even in public, he adores how much you adore him, adores seeing you light up with excitement, adores seeing you happy... But what he adores most, and what he can't get his head around even now, is that it's him that makes you that happy. Him the monster, the rottweiler, that old brute... He's the person who makes you light up like the sun and the night sky all at once. He can't believe his luck.

🍂 He's a very full on, brash man and when you rush to him with excitement he matches your energy the two of you taking over a whole room with your adoration for one another. He really doesn't care about appearing "soft" he'll just sweep you off your feet, snog you to high heaven and dance you round the room...

🍂 Even if the last time he saw you was five minutes ago, the two of you still light up for one another.

John

🌼 John finds your melodrama highly entertaining. He loves to watch you light up whenever you see him. He's a very playful lover and he will match your energy 100%.

🌼 He won't even be taken back the first time it happens. You'll squeal and he'll see the joy in your eyes, one look at you and he'll know what you're going to do before you do it... so when you come running and jumping up into his arms he'll catch you and spin you round in a tight embrace.

🌼 Won't put you down but will keep you wrapped around him in his arms for as long as possible talking to you about your day and telling you all about his... well everything he can tell you.

🌼 However because you were always like this with one another it was very hard for you to tell your true feelings for one another. Your over affectionate friendship was often described by both of you as "like a brother/sister to me..." and so it took you both a long time to realise you were in love. When you did however because you were already so affectionate with one another you fell very easily into your new dynamic. The only difference being that now when you run and jump into his arms he meets you with a deep and affectionate kiss.

🌼 He absolutely adores your excitable nature, he's a big kid at heart and he loves that there's someone else in the world who is carefree and wild enough to wear their emotions on their sleeve the way that you do. His brothers warn him about you telling him to be careful, Tommy even suggests that a girl like you who throws her affections at people so wildly, is perhaps not necessarily loyal, but John defends you to the ends of the earth. And definitely comes close to hitting his brother for suggesting something so improper about you.

🌼 And so although it takes you awhile to win over his family, John trusts and adores you from the very first time he sees that wild ecstatic light sparkling in your eyes. He's always coming up with little nicknames for you, calling you his Little Firecracker, telling you you're like a bottle of champagne. He likes to call you fizzy because you're always bubbly and bouncy with excitement.

🌼 He actually takes a little while to work out that he's the cause of the excitement. Because he doesn't see you when you're not with him (obviously) so he just assumes that the way you are with him is the way you are all the time. When he finds out from Ada that she's never seen you act that way before with anyone, John gets the most smug and wide grin on his lips.

🌼 He's really proud of himself for being able to light you up like that, he thinks your smile is gorgeous so to be at the center of that... Well he can hardly keep that smug grin off his lips.

🌼 And then he won't stop teasing you about that fact, he'll catch you in his arms and then kiss your cheek and then he'll say something cheeky like, "so I heard a rumour flower, that you're never this excited to see anyone else... That true?"

🌼 But you're not exactly embarrassed about your feelings... If you were you would probably exercise some self restraint in public instead of squealing and jumping up to rush to him every time you saw him. So you just tease him back all, "duh John Shelby... You must be daft if you think this is how I treat all my friends... I'm almost offended... What do you take me for?" You'd ask until he was backtracking, actually blushing and apologising because of course he doesn't take you for that kind of girl... He was only trying to wind you up.

🌼 Still he won't stop teasing you and he loves to wind you up by mimicking your little squeal and the way that you flap your hands when you see him sometimes, he never teases you in a malicious way though and he's always quick to reassure you that he's only teasing, that he loves your little "noises"

🌼 You get to know the sound of his footsteps coming down the street or hallway and you're always waiting at the door for him ready to throw your arms around him. You look forward to seeing him everyday and on long days where he's been particularly busy and the two of you have been forced apart from one another for too long you both look forward to snatching the other up in your arms and talking their ear off, telling them all the things you've thought of and saved up in your head just for them.

🌼 And oh my god, where the kids are concerned... Your excitement + John's excitement fuels the children's and they're even more energetic and wild than usual. You make for one affectionate, untameable family...

🌼 One thing John is sure of is that he never wants to see you lose your sunshine streak and so he tries to keep all the darkness in his life as far away from you as possible. He never wants you to be worried for anything and keeps Peaky Business far away from you. He would protect you and the children and your innocence with his life, never wanting to see you lose your innocent, sunny disposition.

🌼 he also treasures the fact that in dark times he always has his ray of sunshine to look to, always has you with your glowing smile, you his little sunflower who thinks the world of him and is proud and content to depend on him... It does him the world of good to have your relentless optimistic kind of love, means he is never able to forget all the goodness in the world because you're always right there ready to push your way through a crowded room to throw yourself into his arms.

Bonnie

🍀 L o v e s it.

🍀 Bonnie wouldn't change you for the world. He thinks you're absolutely magical, the way you light up every time he meets your eyes across the room, the way you're completely unafraid to show how much you adore him, how you're head over heels giddy and in love with him.

🍀It makes him feel so special, makes him feel like he's the center of your whole universe and he is... you tell him that all the time.

🍀 At first he is certainly surprised by it... it's not that he doesn't believe himself to be worthy of your affection or your praise, it's that no one's ever been quite so confident in their adoration of him before... and well, he just wasn't expecting you to come barrelling across the room into his arms like a bloody cannonball...

🍀But your adoration makes him feel so special and he flourishes and thrives with all the attention you give him. So in fact he encourages it, he'll be the one calling out to you across the field, opening his arms for you to come running and jumping into them. He'll be the one sweeping you up off your feet and dancing you around.

🍀He's a very physically affectionate lad and he will take any excuse and opportunity to get his hands on you... Loves to let you tackle him with a hug only to pretend to be taken by surprise, to let the two of you go stumbling back and falling into the grass together, rolling around so that he can pin you down and kiss you, tickle you with your hands above your head.

🍀You're practically inseparable, you're always with him before and after a fight and Tommy Shelby finds it very frustrating that when he wants to talk tactics with his fighter, you're there hanging off Bonnie's arm, kissing his cheek or wrapped up in the lads arms whilst Tommy's trying to tell him how to throw the fight.

🍀You're his biggest cheerleader, shouting and cheering him on during matches.

🍀But wishes youf be a bit more careful about pushing your way through crowds of roudy men so that you can get backstage to see him.

🍀Obce he won a fight and the second the time bell rang you had lept to your feet, crossed into the ring and had thrown your arms around him squeelling delighted and excited into his neck. And he'd been exhausted and sore from the fight but he couldn't do anything but grin and hug you back pleased that everyone could see how excited his beautiful girl got to see him.

Isaiah

🐀 Put aside his charming nature, his brash flirtations for a moment and have a think if you ever saw this lad display actual joy/excitement/affection for anyone before... I think behind that flirtatious nature he's actually quite guarded, a little preoccupied with keeping up appearances...

🐀 So the first time he really experienced your heart on sleeve, flourishing affection, how lackadaisically you let the whole room know how happy you were to see him, he made the mistake of being too cool for you... he hardly even smiled at you, saluted you from across the room despite your beaming smile and how you'd waved him over... he just nodded to you, a small smirk and that deadpan salute.

🐀 It made your high spirits plummet like a stone. You didn't know what to make of it. You'd never been embarrassed to flaunt your feelings before but he made you feel like you should be... that public rejection, his standoffishness, how casual and cool he'd brushed you off, making you second guess whether hed really meant any of the sweet things he'd said to you when you were alone. Made you wonder if you were just another of his one night stands... someone he could forget now he'd conquered you.

🐀And the thing about you is that though you may show your affection and excitement freely, you might feel adoration to the extremes.. you don't let yourself grow wild and dramatic for just anyone. Once someones shunned you like that, once they've left your heart aching and your eyes teary, you don't give them the opportunity to do it again.

🐀 So the next time you see him in public you don't even look at him and when he comes to talk to you you act like you don't know him at all... so now he knows how you felt... now he's sorry and wondering what happened to his little ray of sunshine...

🐀 Too stupid to realise that it's his own cold actions that have lead you both to this moment and when he asks you what's the matter he seems genuinely concerned about you and you can't believe his foolishness. You say plain and simple, "so it's true what they say about you is it... there really is nothing between your ears..." he frowns, confused because a) he doesn't know what you're talking about, he's got a whole face between his ears duh... and b) he can tell that whatever you're implying is spiteful, that you're trying to hurt him.

🐀 "Do all your thinking with..." but when you say that he gets it, the penny drops and he finishes your sentence.

"With me cock..." he smirks but there's no light in his eyes and he begins to understand, realises he's going to have to do a lot of making up to you, a lot to convince you that you're more to him than just a casual fling.

🐀 "For fuck sake love," he sighs when he sees tears in your eyes because your wild emotions have finally gotten the better of you and you don't have the energy to keep this cold mask on. You're not a cold person, you're a person with so many feelings and you feel them in extremes.

🐀 "I was so happy to see you.." you sniffle thinking back to the moment he'd broken your heart with that, "stupid fuckin salute... I wanted a fuckin hug and you fuckin saluted me..."

When you say it he can't keep the smirk off his lips, can't help but chuckle because it sounds ridiculous... as in it makes him sound like a fucking idiot.

🐀 When your tears get thicker and you frown not understanding what's funny he raises his hands in surrender, "I'm laughing at myself mousy, laighin at myself for being such a fuckin idiot..."

🐀 He really does feel bad for having upset you like that, he had no idea how much his actions would effect you but he sees now that you really do wear your heart on your sleeve, that when you were smiling at waving at him it really was because you were that happy to see him.

🐀 So he promises you, he'll never salute you ever again. Takes your hand and kisses your palm, holds it there as he holds your gaze and says it again, "promise, I Isaiah Jesus will Never salute you ever again darlin, never..."

🐀 And though he does still get a little embarrassed from hard to time - because after all it's difficult to look like a hardened criminal when youve got the sweetest girl in the world hanging off your arm - Isaiah keeps his promise. He's never cold to you again.

🐀 He grows particularly fond of your over the top reactions to seeing him, grows to love the sound of your excited little squeak because he knows it means that any second now you'll come skipping into his arms and he'll have his beautiful girl by his side.

🐀He will definitely try to reign you in and pacify you will his cooler forms of affection in public. Not because he doesn't love you just the way you are, he does... he just knows he has a reputation to uphold and that if you're going to be his girl you have a reputation to uphold too. You can't appear too soft or his enemies will eat you alive and use you to get at him

🐀 So although he's never cold he will give you lots of little reminders to be calm, to be cool, lots of "not now darlin, settle down, come here sit in my lap" it gives him an excuse to get his hands on you and keep you close whilst still managing to look cool about it.

🐀 It doesn't half boost his ego and he definitely gets quite smug about it, if Bonnie, Michael o'r Finn try to tease him about how soft he's gone he can always just shrug his shoulders, "sounds like you're jealous lads... Just cause you've never made a lass make those kinda sounds..."

🐀 Has to admit that when he hears that happy little squeak you do, his mind wanders to other activities, can't help thinking about how cute your other noises might sound...

🐀 and when you're in private its a totally different story. Behind closed doors when he's not worried about what others will think of him, when he isn't trying to be the bad boy he will match your energy, he'll be sweeping you off your feet with all the passion in the world.

🐀 Definitely gets a kick out of mimicking your little squeal.

Michael

☘️ Michael was raised with manners, he was raised in a household which gave great weight to the ability to conduct oneself "properly" stiff upper lip, reserved... Women who wait to be addressed before speaking to their superiors etc..

☘️ That's nothing like you... In fact you're quite the opposite. You don't believe in withholding happiness, you don't believe in hiding your joy, your excitement. If someone makes you happy you should tell them, show them every opportunity you have..

☘️ And though Michael may be taken back by your somewhat unignorable adoration for him, there's nothing he can possibly say to change your ways. You love him and you're going to express that freely and sometimes even wildly...

☘️And this does get under his skin, he can't hide his awkwardness, the way you sometimes embarrass him in public when you get so excited you can't contain your delight in seeing him... When you walk into the bakery in the morning and he's there to collect something for his mum, you walk in behind him and as the doorbell rings he recognises your gasp, the squeal of delight...

☘️ he says a silent prayer everytime eyes rolled up to heaven hoping you won't be quite as loud, quite as dramatic as last time. But as always you throw your arms around him, nuzzle into him and squeeze him so tight... So quickly of course that he hasn't even had a chance to put his arms round you, he's just stood there like an awkward plank of wood in your embrace.

☘️ He thinks you make him look silly... Unprofessional, not to be taken seriously... He worries that people will start to get the impression he isn't as tough or as cold as his cousins. That he's an easy target...

☘️ Will absolutely tell you you need to calm down if you're in public, he'll be so stern about it too. He won't exactly shrug you off coldly and he won't dismiss you because that would make the whole thing look even worse, how rude it would be... it would make one impropper act all the more uncooth and embarrassing...

☘️ So he'll always welcome your affection but he won't match your energy, instead he'll wrap his arms around you, hold you tight but not squeezing you to death the way you are him, and when he kisses your cheek he'll speak quietly but commanding.

☘️ "Now now love calm down, don't cause a scene eh... you can tell me all about your day later eh... for now though eh just you hold my hand and keep that pretty little mouth of yours shut..." he'll kiss your hand and then keep a tight grip on you. It's his way of letting you be close to him, letting you feel a little affection in return whilst still remaining proper and polite in company.

☘️ but secretly he loves your dramati, romantic ways. Because that's all it really is isn't it, romantic? You're like one of those melodramatic french girl stereotypes, you can't simply hold your lovers hand, you must throw your arms around him, sigh like a Juliet, hold his face between your two hands and kiss him like you're breathing him in. Like his kisses give you life... And Michael loves that...

☘️ He loves feeling loved. Literally who doesn't.

☘️when he's had a shit day at work, when he feels like no one respects him, it feels so good to come home and have you hit him with all that affection and adoration. Having you waiting at the door ready to throw your arms around him...

☘️It makes him feel completely adored, gives him a purpose, makes him all the more determined always to return home to you every night...

☘️You wait in the window looking out for his arrival home and then you go running down the drive to meet him, shouting his name, your cheeks rosy flushed from your excitement as he stops at the edge of the path, opens his arms for you to jump up into them. It's his favourite part of the day because it makes him feel so special, so important.

☘️ Michaels a generally serious, slightly melancholic boy, there's often a shadow which hangs over him, be it the pressure of living up to the high expectations he has for himself, or the shadow left over from a turbulent upbringing, the traumas he went through as a boy... There's always some kind of weighty preoccupation on his mind but you, you're a little ray of sunshine in a dark and fucked up world and he adores you, you're the light breaking through the cracks and he's so grateful to have found you. Your excitement and your drama are precious to him, he wouldn't ever want you to lose those traits and so he's fiercely defensive of you..

☘️ once at a family meeting you arrived late, rushing to Michael's side, you hadn't seen him all day and were excited to see him so youd thrown your arms around him all "I missed you so much," and Tommy grew impatient. He snapped at you, said "Michael for fuck sake would you control your damn wife..."

☘️ you were of course shocked by Tommy's sudden temper but what shocked you more was there whereas Michael would usually put an arm around you and remind you to settle down, save the excitement until you were alone, this time he stood up, glared at his cousin across the table...

☘️ "Tommy you might be the head of this family but if you ever speak about my wife like that again I swear I will..."

☘️ And suddenly it's you linking your fingers with his tugging him back to you, whispering to him asking him to calm down...

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mars-ipan · 2 years

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“unsatisfying endings can be good” and “i’m sick of every story i can relate to ending in tragedy” can and do coexist

#thinking abt finn’s new interest n what she’s told me abt it #n it’s sorta hit me like. why i was feeling the way i was abt the difference between the og story and the adaptation #and this is it #i love a good unsatisfying story. they hurt like hell but they stick with you #they might even teach you something if they’re done real interestingly #but often times they’re just cynical and depressing and it sucks #this is especially true bc so many mentally ill people gravitate to the unsatisfying ending #and it makes sense. like when you’re not doing well it’s hard to feel like it’s ever get better #you feel like it’s always gonna be like this and in the end you deserved it because you must have in order to go through this #and when that intersects with mental illness or queerness or blackness or anything like that #it becomes like. a gross concoction of internalized bigotry #and even these stories aren’t inherently negative! i think it’s a great coping mechanism actually-#place down all of your thoughts and deconstruct them through a story #but when Every Single Story involving people like you ends in ‘i never got happy’ or ‘i committed suicide’ or whatever #it’s just like…. you fucks are so damn cynical #and while it is okay to vent. can i get stories where people like me do get happy also. and they do recover #i think like essentially.#to say it shortly #having media with unsatisfying endings isn’t inherently bad. it can be really good actually #but when media about marginalized groups contains a disproportionately large amount of these stories #it’s just kinda. irritating and depressing

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lovebugism · 6 months

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OK the fall prompt "rainy walks" got me thinking like... what if reader got upset about something and went for a walk and got caught in the rain, and ended up running into Steve who is just out walking and loving the fall gloomy vibe

ty for requesting! — steve runs into his ex while trying to escape a bunch of freaks and finds out you're running from something of your own (exes to lovers, hurt/comfort, tw mentions of toxic relationships, 1.9k)

fictober (㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ)

Steve doesn’t usually smoke. He dropped that habit when he graduated high school and realized he only needed a cigarette when his group of asshole friends were around. He smoked because it felt cool mostly, but also because it felt good to be distracted from his lingering feelings of non-belonging.

Now he’s got people around him who make him feel like he belongs.

It’s too bad they’re all a bunch of freaks.

After being cooped up in the Munson trailer all day, he thinks he’s developed something short of cabin fever. Desperate to get away, he swiped one of Eddie’s cigs and a forgotten zippo before heading out to smoke on the back porch.

He exhales grey smoke from his pink lips. It leaves in invisible wisps beneath heavy storm clouds. He thinks he hears a voice over the muffled sound of Dustin Henderson’s yelling. “Fucking asshole— who do you think you are?�� the voice speaks, familiar in a way that makes his stomach ache. “Like, fuck you, dude. You don’t get to talk to me like that. No fucking way.”

He peeks around the corner, and there he finds you — an old ex from a lifetime ago that he hasn’t quite gotten over yet. His chest starts to tighten. He can’t tell if he’s happy to see you or utterly horrified.

You’re still dressed in your pajamas despite it being early afternoon — if an oversized t-shirt that certainly doesn’t belong to you can be counted as pajamas, anyway. It’s a white and red Metallica tee that falls to your knees, slightly frayed at the hem.

It probably belonged to Billy before it belonged to you. If Steve had to guess, you probably stole it like you did all his shirts. He still isn’t sure what came of his favorite Hawkins Tigers sweatshirt.

You come down the road from the Hargrove-Mayfield trailer, looking like you left in a rush. You’re barely dressed and shivering in the cold, walking fast like you’re angry and desperate to get away.

You and Steve broke up a long time ago, but his heart still swells with the familiar urge to protect you.

“Are you okay?” Steve calls to you as he rounds the corner of the Munson trailer.

The crunchinggravel beneath your feet goes quiet when you still. Your head whips toward the sound of the familiar voice, eyes widening when you find Steve there. Your heart starts to race — not because you’ve just run into your ex, but because you’ve run into your ex who you kinda sorta ditched several months ago.

“Huh?”

“I asked if you were okay,” he repeats with a quiet, lopsided grin. He flicks the end of his cigarette with his thumb and tries to meet your gaze. “Sounded like you were giving someone a hell of a talking to.”

Your face flares with embarrassment. You shift your weight on your feet and cross your arms over your chest — partly to shield from the crisp cold but mostly to comfort yourself. “Yeah. I’m just— I was just talking to myself,” you stammer, flashing a wavering smile that doesn’t meet your eyes. “I’m good.”

Steve nods, then squints like he doesn’t believe you. “Okay… Are you sure?”

A laugh tumbles from your mouth. It’s cynical and bitter and utterly forced.

“Yes, Steve. I’m fine,” you assure with a bite to your tone, colder than the grey autumn around you. You smile through it anyway, like you’re trying to convince yourself just as much as him. “You don’t have to worry about me anymore. You’re not my boyfriend.”

Steve knows this. He hasn’t been your boyfriend for a while, but something about the way you say it makes his chest ache. He isn’t sure why.

“No, I know,” he nods quickly, shrugging with his brows pinched. “But I’m never gonna, like, not worry about you, you know?”

The empty feeling in your chest starts to warm. Your nails dig crescent shapes into your arms.

“Why?” you murmur.

“I don’t know. Because you were really important to me, I guess— you are really important to me. And that doesn’t just, like… go away,” Steve rambles, shier than you’ve ever seen him. He swipes an anxious hand through his cinnamon locks. The rouge strands hanging over his forehead fall back into place a second later.

Even though your boyfriend forced you not to talk to any of your friends, he wants to say. Even though you’re not mine anymore.

It’s been so long since someone’s been this soft with you. You’re not used to it anymore. You’d much rather him be mean because at least then you’d have a place to put all your anger.

“That’s… That’s nice,” you mutter under your breath like an idiot because you don’t know what else to say.

Steve takes one last puff of his cigarette, if only to distract himself from the awkward silence. He takes a deep breath in and tosses the stick to the gravel, exhaling the smoke as he snuffs out the ash with his sneaker.

“Where were you, uh— Where were you headed?”

“Nowhere. I was just… on my way back home.”

His brows furrow. He doesn’t bother to hide his concern. “Do you have a car?”

“Nope,” you answer with a sigh. “Still don’t have my license, so…”

“Still?”

You nod, scrunching your nose all sheepish. “I know…”

“We used to practice all the time!”

Steve’s golden laugh makes you smile despite yourself. “Honestly, I’m still a little scarred from when I almost hit that deer.”

He nods at the memory, quietly nostalgic and warm with it.

That was on the way to Deep Green Cove, where the two of you were headed to meet his parents at their over-the-top lake house. He let you drive because he knew you’d been wanting to and thought the vacant countryside road would be easiest for you to practice on.

It hadn’t been.

And you did it all for nothing because his parents didn’t even show.

It was a good weekend, though. He can’t believe he forgot about it until now.

“Yeah, that’s fair, I guess,” Steve shrugs with his head tilted to his shoulder. “It took me three days to get you in the car again.”

“I’m pretty sure I cried, like, all night after that.”

“Yeah, my t-shirt still has tear stains on it, actually,” he teases with a boyish chuckle.

Your own giggle sputters from your mouth. You hide it with your palm — like you feel guilty about it. It feels good to laugh, though. To remember that you used to cry over stupid stuff like that and not shit that actually breaks your heart.

A fat raindrop plops cold on your shoulder. You wince. “Oh, fuck— I gotta go.”

“Let me take you,” Steve offers without thinking twice.

You stumble back when he steps towards you, shaking your head to dismiss him. “No. It’s okay.”

“C’mon. Just let me drive you home—”

“I’m fine.”

“I’m not letting you walk in the rain.”

“It’ll be okay—”

“You’ll freeze.”

You scoff a bitter laugh. “It’ll be better than what Billy does to me if he finds out I was alone with Steve The Hair Harrington.”

You say it like it’s a joke, and it isn’t, really, but Steve isn’t laughing anyway. His chiseled features twist in concern, like your words have somehow pained him. “What do you mean?”

“Nothing,” you answer, perhaps too quickly, laughing as you shake your head. “It was just— It was a stupid joke. I’m just being dramatic.”

“Are you saying he’ll hit you?” he wonders in a quiet murmur, far too somber than you’d like.

“No— what? No!” you stammer quickly, face as screwed up as his scruffy one. You start to ramble before you realize it. “Billy isn’t like that, okay? He’s just— He’s a fucking baby, and he’s dramatic, and I’d love to go one day without being fucking gaslit. That’s all. I’d rather just freeze on my ten-minute walk back home than have him berate me about hanging out with my ex.”

A few more raindrops fall. Spots of ashy gravel turn to a darker shade of grey.

Steve grows quiet, letting the gentle cadence of water on tin roofs fill the silence. His chest aches all over again. He can’t decide if he’s sad for you or angry at Billy or grieving that he ever let you go in the first place. Maybe a mix of all three.

His hands tremble with the intensity of the swirling emotions, but it’s still in his nature to be soft with you.

“Do you wanna come inside?” he wonders, nodding back towards the trailer.

“To Eddie’s?”

“Yeah.”

“…No,” you answer with the shake of your head, face twisted like the offer offends you. It does, but only because you’re almost sure Eddie hates you now. You wouldn’t blame him if he did. If your best friend chose some asshole over you, you’d hate them too.

“No?”

“I haven’t talked to him in forever— I haven’t talked to any of you in forever.”

“It’s okay,” Steve nods, so gentle it makes you writhe.

“No, it’s not, Steve. I ditched all of you. I was awful to you.”

You don’t want his gentleness. You want him to hate you. You don’t deserve his warmth or the one inside Eddie’s trailer, practically aglow with the laughter of all the friends you left behind. You deserve the isolation. You deserve to stand in the rain and freeze.

“It’s okay,” he repeats, a newfound insistence in his tone like he wants you to really hear him. His bushy brows raise and his honey eyes sparkle, golden even in the grey. “We know why. We know it’s not your fault.”

You falter, swallowing through a closing throat. “You do?”

“Yeah. And we don’t— we don’t blame you for it, okay? For any of it. We miss you, actually.”

The crooked pink grin he flashes should comfort you, but it only makes you shrink inside yourself. “You’re just saying that,” you murmur, disbelieving and dripping with self-loathe.

“Ask Robin if you don’t believe me,” Steve tells you, smiling wider now. “Actually, she was just talking about how making fun of me isn’t as fun without you.”

You don’t want to believe him, but you glow with the faint hope that he’s telling the truth, anyway.

“Really?”

“Really,” the boy nods, then grimaces when the light rain grows suddenly heavier. His brows scrunch as he holds out an arm towards you. “Screw your boyfriend, okay? Just come inside. We can take care of everything else after.”

You want so desperately to take the hand he holds out for you. Your fingers twitch at your side with the longing to hold him, but you don’t let yourself — even though it goes against all your human instincts not to.

You’re made slightly braver than he had said we. “We can take care of that later,” he’d promised, a subtle assurance that you aren’t as alone in all this as you feel. But you often feel like you’re a black hole at times — you don’t want to suck anyone else into the mess you’re in.

“I don’t know…” you waver, teeth threatening to chatter when a breeze makes the rain colder.

“C’mon, before both of us get soaked—” Steve laughs when it starts to rain harder. All the clouds begin to pour at once. You rush to him before you can think twice about it. His palm is warm at the small of your back when he ushers you towards the trailer.

Beneath the high-pitched squeaking of the screen door, you hear Steve mumble behind you. “Dustin’s gonna fucking flip when he sees you.”

#published by bug #steve harrington x reader #stranger things x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fic #st drabbles #stevie drabble #event: fictober!

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