#when you tell someone like that to “be kind” they see it as weakness
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as ironic as it sounds, being shy was not for the weak.
sure, there was the obvious things like finding it difficult to make friends, feeling like you might pass out any time you have to order your own food, feeling deathly embarrassed for just doing simple things like wearing a new item of clothing or using an umbrella. all of those things accumulated from an amalgamation of anxiety ridden experiences that kept you awake at night — but the worst thing you found about being incredibly shy, was being unable to stick up for yourself.
it’s not like you didn’t have things to say, lord knows if you weren’t shy you would have torn these girls to shreds. however, any time you wanted to say anything, it was like you were frozen. like an evil villain from a storybook had stolen your voice box and left you defenceless against a huddle of evil stepsisters. you were convinced the girls in your ballet class were born evil. never taught right from wrong whilst you were forced into the corner of each session hot in the face and trying your hardest to concentrate whilst they loudly comment on you like you weren’t there.
“you know pope heyward pays for her dance tuition because she’s a pogue.”
“seriously? i’d be too embarrassed to even show my face if someone else had to pay my tuition for me. it’s not even that expensive.”
“right? imagine being poor, can’t relate. my friend said she saw her stealing from sephora last week, it’s like people don’t have shame anymore.”
“no offence but she shouldn’t even be in here with us.”
the catty laughter that followed only added insult to injury, and it continued on this way for the rest of the two hour session you were stuck with them for. by the end, you were ready to just leave that place and never return. perhaps you could simply find a way to pay pope off and go back to whatever it was you were doing before you joined the dance school.
a flood of relief washes over you when you finally return to popes student apartment, using the key he’d offered you to let yourself in— body slumped from exhaustion and sore from carrying your bags. you could see on the forecast there was a fifty percent chance of going non verbal tonight, just to recover from the day you’d had.
for a second the negative thoughts slip away when the door opens and one third of your trio is stood there bouncing a football off the wall. jj maybank, one of your two lovers turns his head and beams at you — and you don’t realise you’re crumpling into a sob until you recognise the crease in his brow and the way his smile slides off his face as quickly as it arrived.
“hey? woah, uh— let’s close this door yeah sugar? lemme get these bags. why’re you crying? c’mon tell papa j.” he’s doing everything at once — closing the door behind you whilst catching your trembling body and removing your bags from your grip.
“can’t do it. can’t do it anymore.” you wail into his chest as he pats your back in disorientation. jj was never the best at this kind of thing, but he was learning. at the commotion, pope comes strutting into the hallway in his rich-boy cardigan and slacks and you can’t even look at him. he’s everything you’re not.
“jj, please don’t tell me you made her cry two steps into this damn apartment.��� pope deadpans and jj’s eyes widen at the accusation.
“wh— dude it wasn’t me! she just… walked in and started crying.” his voice softens and he cradles the back of your head, watching the way popes demeanour falters and he furrows his eyebrows, stepping closer.
“hey… did something happen? we need to know.” pope tries to get through to you, but you wrap your arms around jjs neck, hiding yourself from the world. the academic boy sighs, before nodding his head to jj to gesture to bring you into the living room. “i’m… gonna make you some tea. okay?” you feel the gentle touch of his hand on your back before he departs, leaving jj to lovingly wrangle you to the couch.
before long, you’re nestled between the two with your knees to your chin, allowing yourself to be coddled by your boyfriends.
“and — and then they said i’m poor and they saw me stealing… said i shouldn’t even be in the same room as them.” you tremble, staring ahead as pope mops up your tears.
“those little prissy bit—”
“jj.” pope warns before turning to you. “look, please don’t listen to them pretty girl. you belong there just as much as anyone else. more— even.” he shakes his head with wide eyes.
“no they’re right. i feel like a fraud even existing in the same space as them.”
“you got the whole shoplifting thing under control anyway so what’s their deal?” jj stands up, restless as he rips his hat off, running a hand through his hair before beginning to spin his cap around his fingers.
“i should have been more careful.” you squeak and jj sighs, coming back to you to stroke a hand lovingly over your head.
“forget these stuck up kook assholes, okay? no offence pope.”
“none taken.”
he cups your jaw, forcing you to look up at him. “you’re our little ballerina — and like, the best one i’ve ever seen. trust me, they’re mad ‘cus they’re jealous. i know that for a fact.”
“exactly. total case of jealousy.” pope chimes in, a hand resting on your lower back.
“so you’re not quittin’. you’re gonna go back to that studio tomorrow, with your head held high, and if you don’t tell them all to fuck off — i’ll come n’do it for you.” jj announces, loud and proud. you let a sniffly giggle slip, which relieves the two of them.
“jayj y’can’t do that.”
“okay — so i can’t come n’ tell them to fuck off but…” he leans in closer, suddenly dead serious. “i find out any of these chicks have brothers or boyfriends? they’re gonna have to answer to my glock. that should shake ‘em up.”
“yeah that’s smart. get kicked off campus.” pope sarks, the two of you knowing he would never actually do something like that — purely speaking out of emotion.
“for our girl? anything, dude.”
“okay well. more productively,” pope pats his thighs decisively before leaning forward to the coffee table and grabbing your mug of tea, placing it in your hands. “you’re gonna drink this, and then me and this thug are gonna make you feel all better. okay?” whilst you take a sip, pope presses a kiss to your forehead.
“feel better how?” you pout once you’d swallowed, holding your tea a little firmer as you feel jj drop carelessly into the seat beside you.
“i’m gonna massage out any aches and pains you may be experiencing from your dance class, and trust me i am well versed in the human body so i can really get in there.” pope explains, wrapping an arm around your waist and bringing you closer.
“mhm…” you encourage him to continue, already melting into the relaxation.
“and then, me and jj are gonna make you cum. a lot. many many times.” he states matter-of-factly, shooting a tingle through your body like he did each and every time he made a filthy promise like that. although you’re not looking at jj, you feel his hand raise in the air as he leans back on the couch.
“now that i can get behind.”
maybe you’d be okay after all.
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Your writing is my holy grail and i wanted to request, if it's not a bother, a nsfw alphabet for art 🙏🏼
Aww thanks bud!! Not a bother at all :)
Rating: Explicit - 18+ only.
A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)
This man is cuddly and sweet—kissing your forehead, murmuring how much he loves you, how good you are to him. He won't let you up for a couple of minutes if it's alright with you. He wants to come down together.
B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)
His hands are his favorite body part on himself. He knows how strong, sure, and steady they are. This man is so touchy as well—he loves reaching out sliding his hand over any part of you that he can reach.
I feel like Art can really be captivated by someone's eyes. He's big on eye contact. It can be intimidating at first, but once you're used to it, it's sweet. If the two of you are in a crowd, separated, he'll give you little looks to make sure you're alright, and give little winks once you nod to confirm.
Also he's an ass man.
C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)
Prefers to cum in you. I honestly think he's got a bit of a breeding kink. I think he'd be happy to have 2-3 kids, being a stay at home house husband.
D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)
Jerked off into Patrick's jerk-off sock when they were at school together. Definitely didn't tell him.
E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)
I'd say Art is moderately experienced. I don't think he's slept with a ton of people, but I think he's the kind of person that gets to know his partner's body and what they like so entirely that he learns a lot along the way.
F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)
Spooning. Bodies pressed as close together as they can possibly be, covering your neck and shoulder with hickies, sharing messy kisses, whining against your neck as his hips twitch and he spills into you. He'd be happy to fall asleep like that, too.
G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)
Art can be so intense, but he can be teasing, too. If you guys are in the middle of a quickie (more on that later) and you wind up in an awkward position or one of you gets a cramp, he's not going to give you the chance to be embarrassed. He's going to tease you in a way that's playful and kind—anything to get the smile back on your face.
H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)
He manscapes, he keeps it neat.
I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)
Insanely intimate man. Simpin' ain't easy, but he makes it an Art Form™. This comes back to the amount of eye contact he enjoys, too (depending on the position). He likes to cradle your head, look you in the eyes, and watch you fall apart for him.
J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)
I think it's on the rarer side that he gets himself off, but when he does it's because he's so pent up, or frustrated. Maybe he's on a long trip and just hasn't been able to have phone time with you because you have conflicting schedules, and all he has is a few pictures on his phone and the memory of the way your moan for him.
K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)
Breeding, as I mentioned before. I think he's a switch, but leans subby. He likes to please you, and he doesn't mind if you take the lead. Hell—it turns him on.
L = Location (favorite places to do the do)
Bed. Classic, traditional. Will also happily fuck you in the shower post-match.
M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)
If there's something that you do competitively in any estimation, or if there's something that you're particularly passionate about, seeing that fire and joy in you gets him going.
This man is also weak for you in a sundress.
N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)
I don't think he'd be into kinks that cause his partner serious pain, even if it was consensual.
O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)
Loves getting, but this man is a beast at giving. Will go down on you like you're a five course meal. Will ask you to sit on his face and won't care if he suffocates.
P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)
I think typically slow and sensual, but he can be a bit rough when he's frustrated.
Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)
If that's the best y'all can do, then he'll do it, but it's not his go-to.
R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)
He will take risks, but it's not his preference. He's in the public eye, he recognizes that. The last thing he needs is some scandal about the two of you having a quickie in public somewhere.
S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)
Are you kidding me? Tennis players run like five miles a match on average. This man can last and last and last. Good luck keeping up 😵💫
T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)
I don't think he owns or uses them on himself, but I think he'd be intrigued by yours if you have any. I don't know if he'd use them with you, but when he's getting off, the thought of you using them might really do it for him.
U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)
I think he can be very flirty and teasing, but in more of a romantic way than a sexual way.
V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)
Oh, we've all heard the sounds he makes 😏
W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)
I honestly think he would cum on the spot if you spit in his mouth.
X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)
I think Art's got that good boyfriend dick. Just long and just thick enough.
Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)
Medium? I think like he's at a medium.
Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)
Depends. If it's after a match, he's out like a light, but he'll try to stay awake. If it's a regular day, he'll wait for the two of you to get cleaned up and settled.
#Art Donaldson x Reader#Art Donaldson x You#Art Donaldson/Reader#Art Donaldson/You#Art Donaldson fic#Art Donaldson imagine
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your most recent jason fic has me in a bit of a chokehold and its bc you do so well with the dialogue and the banter!!
HONEYLOVE???#?*×& i need to be physically restrained (i appreciate your fics respectfully)
anyways, the fic has me thinking: imagine it's the same reader, but they know Jason's alive and they're back to being friends again (skipping over the drama of "YOU'RE ALIVE?!?" "yea lmao sorry ily tho") but there's this tension now. and since Jason's not working with a mask anymore (and he's slightly more vulnerable with r), it's him who gets flustered and it's r who does the flirting playful banter. maybe it ends with a kiss (˘ ³˘) ?
i'm such a sucker for a flustered Jason and there's something that tells me he gets really weak in the knees for someone he adores >:) anyways, you can always choose to write this or not but a very big, fat thank you if you do
the reaction pics are SO FUNNY i'm glad you enjoy this au <3
jason todd x gn!nocturne!reader. pt 3 of vigilante reader. this is basically reader just being feral over jason :> they speak for all of us, really. love confessions, tension, somewhat flustered jason, more sparring lols.
pt 1 / pt 2
****
Jason Todd is alive. Jason Todd is sitting two feet away, talking about a case.
You can't quite believe it. You went home two days ago and expected to wake up to the whole thing being a dream or the result of a Poison Ivy hallucinogen.
You can't stop staring at him. It's weird. You're being weird. But you can't help it.
Every time you see Jason, you want to look at him for as long as possible. You don't want to forget his face. This new face. Scarred and hardened, but still good. Still loved.
And, well. It's not like Jason's bad looking. Sure, you thought he was cute when you were teenagers. Resurrection makes the heart grow fonder, et cetera.
But now? Now, Jason makes your heart stupid. You can barely contain your desire. It's been two weeks since he revealed himself, and every time you see him, you have to dig your nails into your palms to keep yourself from showing him what he does to you.
Sometimes you think he sees right through you, but if he does, he never acts on it.
"—listening. Yo. Ground control to Major Tom. Are you with me?"
Jason waves a hand in front of you. You blink.
He's unmasked and in a Fleetwood Mac t-shirt and dark jeans—the most comfortable you've seen him, actually. His hair is still wet from his shower.
"Sorry," you say, suddenly zeroed in on the three droplets of water sliding down his neck. "I'm listening. Just looking at you."
"'Cause I'm so pretty?" Jason asks, batting his lashes.
You reach over without thinking. He freezes when you wipe the water off of his neck. Then you tuck a curl behind his ear.
"You should let me blow-dry your hair," you say, taking your time in dropping your hand. "It'll take ages to dry in this humidity."
Jason's eyes have gone wide. Pink splotches bloom on the apples of his cheeks.
"Uh." He swallows. You watch his throat bob. "Thanks. Maybe... next time."
"I'll steal Dick's. He's got the fancy sixteen setting one."
That makes Jason smile. "Hm. Some things never change."
His eyes crinkle at the corners. Fondness swells swiftly in your chest.
You stay like that for a moment, caught in each other's orbit.
Jason breaks it first, leaning away. "Right. You should probably get back to the Manor. Br–the others'll probably think I kidnapped ya."
You shrug. "I quit."
"What?"
"Bruce was getting on my last nerve. I can't work with someone like that."
Jason snorts. "Join the club. Look, I can't say I'm not thrilled that you're stickin' it to the old man. But if this is 'cause of me... I wouldn't be mad if you kept workin' with him. Honest. If that's what you wanna do, don't let me stop you."
"Jason." You rest your hand atop his. "I joined this life because of you. To honor you. You taught me how to help people, not Bruce. You taught me what it meant to be kind, to be a part of something bigger than myself."
To love, you don't say.
"I..." He shakes his head. "You became Nocturne for me?"
You close your eyes, then open them. You've cried so many times. You don't want to stay in your grief any longer. Not when he's right in front of you.
"When you died, I..." You take a deep breath. "Nocturne was something to ground me. I think Bruce recognized that. I think he knew how much you meant to me. He didn't have to take a chance on me, and I appreciate that he did. But I've realized that he doesn't know everything. Can't see what's right in front of him sometimes."
You squeeze Jason's wrist. He sighs.
"God, I'm sorry," he says.
"What're you sorry for, Jay? You came back. That's all I ever wanted."
Jason chews his cheek for a moment. Then he stands, chair scraping the floor.
"C'mon," he says.
You follow him to the living room. He moves the armchair, the couch, and rolls up the rug. He disappears down the hall and returns with two thick mats. He tosses them onto the floor.
"Uh..." you say. "What're you—"
"'M gonna show you what y'did wrong that night on the roof."
"Wow. Can't believe you're still single. Being reminded of my shitty combat skills gets me so hot."
Jason rolls his eyes. "Alright, smartass. Just 'cause you quit the Bats doesn't mean you won't go out there and keep helping people. I know you. The least I can do is pick up where Dickface left off in your training."
"The least you can do, huh? I think you just wanna pin me against the floor again," you say, smirking.
He clears his throat. "That—no."
"No?" You step closer and look at him through your lashes. You're so close, you're touching his chest. "What happened to tying me up 'cause I was out when I shouldn't have been? Isn't that another educational technique?"
Jason's throat bobs. "That wasn't—I was just saying things."
"Hm. That's too bad."
You skip right past him, onto the mat, and hold out your arms.
"Okay. Put the moves on me, J.P."
It takes Jason a moment to craft his usual poker face. When he does, he groans. "'M not an evil Gilded Age financier. Still don't like 'J.P.'"
"But you like me-ee," you sing-song.
He shrugs. "Sometimes. Until you give me a heart attack and run into a burning building."
"Wish I could've seen your face for that one," you say as you steel your shoulders and secure your feet.
"Better you didn't. I'm sure there was a vein or two popping outta my forehead." Jason cracks his neck. "Ready?"
"Lay it on me, big guy."
"You first. Attack me like you normally would."
So you do. You step forward and throw a punch similar to the one from your rooftop spar. Jason catches it, of course. But this time, he locks you in a hold. One leg is between yours, and your arms are twisted behind your back with one hand. Humiliating.
"Dude!" You wiggle. Jason doesn't yield. "Jay, come on. No petty criminal is gonna know how to do all that."
"I know. The point of this is for you to know how to use someone's size against them."
Jason presses his cheek against yours. You tamp down your shiver. You can hear his heartbeat.
"Take a breath," he murmurs.
You close your eyes and breathe. Jason's grip doesn't hurt, but you're frustrated by how predictable you are. How he knows your body. A part of you is missing in not knowing him the way he knows you.
"Alright," he says. "Think. What part of me is exposed?"
"Not the important parts, I hope."
You can feel his eyeroll.
"You're hilarious. C'mon, focus. What can you attack?"
"Um... your legs. You trapped my arms, but my and your legs are free."
"Good." The praise warms you. Being this close to Jason will never get old. "What else?"
"What else? Do you have a tail I don't know about?"
"Sucha wiseass," he says, mouth close to your ear. "Your head. You're still able to move your head, and you're close to my face."
"Yeah, I'm not headbutting you. Out of the kindness of my heart."
"I appreciate that, sweets. Sweep my leg."
So you do. Jason goes down easier than he normally would for your benefit.
"'Kay," he says, once again underneath you. Now you have his hands pinned. "Good. Remember what went wrong last time?"
"You bucked me off like a Clydesdale."
He smiles. "Yeah, okay. So what'll you do different?"
"I'm not in my suit," you say. "I don't have extra weight in my boots."
"No, but you don't need it if you keep my legs apart."
"So that was your plan all along, huh? Perv."
Jason coughs. "Ah-hum... I—c'mon, lock my legs."
You grin and spread Jason's legs, using your knees to keep him immobile.
And then you just stare. This time, it's not because you're thinking about the miracle of resurrection (though what a miracle it is). No, you're just thinking, once again, about how your best friend got really, stupidly pretty.
And how you really, stupidly wanna kiss him.
Jason still looks young, but his jaw is now defined. He's got a five o'clock shadow coming on. His lips are full and pink. Freckles dot his cheeks and nose. The nose that still has a bump from when he broke it during a fight with Riddler.
You remember how he played it off for weeks. Bruce said that didn't even cry. But when you asked if it hurt, Jason had said yes.
You wonder when the last time Jason cried was. You wonder how much pain he's suffered since.
You wonder if he knows he's got your heart in the palm of his hand.
"Hey," Jason says. His voice is soft. Shy. "I lose ya again?"
You shake your head. "No. Never."
"There somethin' on my face?"
"You're a lot to look at," you say. "Pretty, pretty boy."
That gets an undeniable reaction. Jason Todd has never been able to take a compliment. You've been exploiting that all day.
Perhaps you know him better than you thought.
He exhales sharply, like you've sucker-punched him. His eyes dart to you. Waiting.
"Your eyes are green," you say. "Like, mixed. Blue and green."
Jason nods. "I—yeah. The Pit. Changed 'em. Changed me."
You lean in. His gaze flicks to your mouth. You watch his Adam's apple bob in a hard swallow.
"They're still pretty," you say. "Always had pretty eyes, Jaybird."
"Heh, right. Even with this shit?" He points to the scar that crosses over his right eye, stopping at his lip.
You let go of his wrists—not that you were holding them that tightly anyway. If this were a real fight, you would've lost ten times over already. Considering how much of you is touching Jason, you happen to be winning hard.
You trace the puckered white flesh with your thumb. Jason flinches but doesn't pull away.
"Your face could never turn me away," you say. "Never."
He closes his eyes and shudders. "Y'too nice to me. Always so nice t'me. Even when we were fighting. Why're ya so good?"
Your lips are a hair from his now. "I don't know how to make it more obvious, Jaybird. I'm absolutely insane about you."
Jason's eyes fly open. He sees your mouth and his breathing increases. You smile.
"Yeah, want you bad. No place I wouldn't follow you. Do anything for you."
Jason makes a strangled noise in his throat. You grin.
"C'mon, big guy. I'm right here. Come have me, Jay. I'm yours."
Jason soars up and kisses you. Swallows you, really. His hands hold your waist for dear life. You wrap one leg around his.
You nip his lip. Jason whines softly. Delicious.
You grab his face, fingers tangling in his curls. Jason sits up, slotting you against him. One hand supports you on your back, the other on your side.
"God—" He breaks away, just barely. "You're way too good for me. Had sucha... sucha crush on ya when we were kids. Y'so sweet."
You blindly find his throat and bite, hard enough to leave a mark. Jason makes a guh sound. You lick the bite to soothe it.
"Missed you," you say into his skin. "Missed you so goddamn bad, Jason."
"Yeah. Yeah, yeah," he babbles, clinging to you as you kiss up his neck. "Yeah, missed you too."
"Not letting you go," you say, almost snarling. You're angry with want, angry at the world for keeping this from you for so many years. "It's you and me now, Jay, mkay? Gonna be mine?"
"Always been yours," he says, panting. Jason finds your lips again. The kiss is messy, uncoordinated. Full of love. "No one but you."
You haven't fallen behind. You're starting anew.
"Never been anybody but you."
#Jason todd x reader#Jason todd x you#red Hood x reader#red Hood x you#Jason todd fanfiction#red Hood fanfiction#Jason todd imagine#red Hood imagine#red Hood x yn#jason todd x y/n#batman fanfiction#dc fanfiction#inbox#blurb
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You've gotta wonder what kind of person Manny Noceda was; He's one of two people who informed so much of Luz's character, her grief and posthumous relationship with her father is reflective of the creator's own experiences, it's foundational to the story itself in how Luz chooses to honor her parent and keep his memory alive as she learns to keep living for herself, too.
I already wrote a fic briefly exploring on that, but let's talk about it more: Obviously it's not always so clear-cut between parents and children in real life, but I guess you could see Luz as the culmination of Camila and Manny. So one could use this as a means to work backwards with Manny, to see what parts of Luz she didn't get from Camila, but from her father.
I imagine Manny as someone very confident, brash; He doesn't back down from a challenge. But I also think a part of him doesn't want to be seen as weak, less capable, conceding to others. Manny isn't going to let other people bully him around and he doesn't want Luz or Camila to be hurt that way either. If Camila passed down her fear to Luz, Manny passed down his thoughtlessness; So he might have that same headstrong tendency to sweep others along in his need to prove himself, and in his well-meaning need to help them prove themselves.
Did it ever frustrate Camila, who would sometimes be more worried about just surviving by fitting in? Maybe they both balanced each other out, just as Luz balances out these different, seemingly paradoxical parts of herself. Did he not want to appear weak like Luz, particularly with the context of his illness? Did Manny try and hide that, prioritize his loved ones, just as Luz later did, maybe even internalized from him?
I can't imagine how scared he was, slowly dying; Particularly when it comes to his wife and daughter. He's going to leave them behind. He wants them to be safe so badly. He wants to see Luz grow up and become the person she wants to be. He wants his family to know that it's okay to be themselves, that they're everything. But Manny isn't sure if he's getting it across in the right words, if he's saying it properly. He needs to make the most of his time.
I can see Manny as someone loud, energetic. Eccentric. Luz gets her odder mannerisms from him, he's brimming with this earnest, delightful energy that's so hard not to like. Did he immigrate to the U.S., or was he the child of immigrants? Grandchild, even? Did he and Camila resonate together over their ancestry as another reason for feeling alienated from the majority, where they were? How did they feel about their own families, did they also worry about having to choose between two worlds? Did Manny desperately fight tooth and nail to survive, because us weirdoes have to stick together?
Did Manny have anyone else to tell him to stick up for himself, or did he have to figure it out himself? Was Camila one of those people who helped, and vice-versa, did they both reassure one another? And when Manny was gone, Camila just didn't have the heart and confidence to keep saying that to herself. Was Manny still scared for his wife and daughter when he died, or did he dare hope in his final moments, just as he always dared to live as himself in life? I wish Manny could’ve gotten to see how his loved ones would thrive, and all of the people they’d meet and befriend.
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Designed by pain (10)
Summary: Broken hearts are hard to put back together. 8 years ago, Dean lost something he didn’t even know he had in the first place. Will he get a second chance?
Pairing: former AU!Dean Winchester x fem!Reader
Warnings: angst, language, past break-up, arguments, daddy Dean
A/N: This was an alternative idea for the first chapter of my Bucky story: Monster-in-law masterlist. I decided to use it for a story with Dean.
Designed by pain masterlist
Designed by pain (9)
“What has gotten into you two?” You scream loud enough to make Sam flinch. “Did you realize that Michael heard what you said? He’s a child and that was the worst way to find out that Dean is his father! How could you do this to him?”
You throw your hands up as the men prefer to push each other around instead of listening to you.
“Dean, stop this. Y/N is right,” Sam tries to help you, but Dean is out of his mind.
“He—he tried to get into your pants. I know it,” Dean grunts and pushes Ketch away. “I saw the way he looked at you when during our meetings, and not moments ago.”
“He’s my friend.”
“No,” Dean steps toward you, “he’s not. All he has in mind is to get into your pants, sweetheart. You’re just too blinded by the lies he fed you to see clearly.”
“What the fuck is wrong with you, Winchester!” You slap Dean across the face, leaving an angry handprint on his left cheek. “Not all men are pigs or assholes like you.”
“I saw what I saw, Y/N,” Dean huffs, and rubs his burning cheek. “A wolf recognizes another wolf sniffing around his territory. That bastard came to claim what’s mine.”
“What’s yours? Dream on, Winchester,” Ketch laughs in Dean’s face. “For years I played the good guy, her friend, and confidant to make her see that I’m the man she should long for, not the guy leaving her all alone when she needed him the most. Do you have the slightest idea how hard it is to not make a move while you’re longing for the woman you can’t have?”
“Hah, I told you,” Dean wildly gestures toward Ketch. “He’s nothing but a dog wanting to sniff at your pussy.”
You try to fathom that your friend, the man you consider family tricked you only to get into your pants.
That’s all you’ve been to him. A love interest. Not a friend. Not a business partner. Not the person he cares for.
Ketch is a liar, just like all the other men trying to charm their way into your bed over the years. You didn’t let any man get close to you, afraid to get hurt again.
A few sexual encounters with faceless men you forgot about the morning after were all you allowed yourself. Your son always came first. This will never change.
“Dean!” Sam warns. “Someone should check on the kid before things get out of hand. He just got to know about his father. Can you postpone your pissing contest for now?”
You give Sam a weak smile. Dean is not the kind of guy who gives up so easily. You know that. For now, you will leave Ketch, Dean, and all the shit they pulled behind and try to soothe your child. The only important man in your life.
“You lied,” Michael sniffs when you enter your bedroom. You sigh, relieved that you finally found him. You were searching for your son for half an hour. Finding him here, in your arms is comforting. He was seeking your closeness while being angry at you.
“Baby boy,” you crouch down to look under your bed. “I’m sorry.”
“You said my dad is overseas, and that he can’t be with us because he’s…always busy,” he sniffles. “Why did you lie to me, mommy?”
“Sometimes adults lie to not hurt someone they love, baby,” you lie on the ground, and touch his hand. “Dean,” you sigh, “your dad didn’t know about you. We ended our relationship, and I left to live here, and give you the life you deserve.”
���Why did you never tell him about me?” Michael asks. “Mommy? I asked about my dad, and you never told me about him.”
“I was scared,” you reluctantly admit. “Dean hurt me back then, and I ran away like a scared child. Almost like you now.”
“You were scared?” Michael scoots a little closer to curl in your side. “Why? Did he hurt you? I’ll kick him if he hurt you.”
“Not like that, baby,” you softly say, and smile at your son. “People hurt you each other differently, you know. Just like Ketch and Dean did with you. They hurt your heart with their words.”
Michael nods. He always was smart for his age. “Words can hurt. In here.” He points at his chest. “I believed you hate me, Mommy. I…I’m sorry.”
“Shhh…I’m sorry,” you move closer to wrap your son in your arms. “I love you, baby. The reason for not telling you about Dean was that I didn’t know if he wanted to get to know you. I was scared and unsure what to do.”
“But…he came here for me,” Michael sniffles. “Right? Dean came here to get to know me. He brought me the car his brother gave him. This means he…likes me.”
You remain silent. “He got on a plane for you. I can tell, Dean hates flying.”
“Let me go, Sammy. That bastard won’t put his hands on my woman!” Dean fights his brother’s hold on him. “I will kill him!”
“You degenerated worm,” Ketch pushes his hair back and laughs about Dean. “Do you honestly believe she will choose you over me?” He huffs. “You had your chance and fucked up big time. I was there the whole time. Y/N will choose me after you attacked me without a reason.”
“She won’t,” Dean bares his teeth. “Y/N is smart and knows that you lied to her. She won’t let you near her or Michael ever again.”
“We will see, Kansas boy,” Ketch spits on the ground. “You’re nothing but a bad memory. I’m a gentleman and know how to treat a lady.”
“I think that is enough,” you snap at Ketch. “Dean, Sam, get inside. I got to talk to my…friend.” You jerk your head toward the door. “Dean, I hope you have a speech prepared because now, you’ll explain to your son why you came here.”
“Uh-sure,” Dean looks at Ketch and then at you. He smirks, knowing he at least won this battle. “Sorry for the mess.”
“Yeah, yeah. Get inside and shut up,” you brush past Dean. “Arthur,” you exhale sharply and steel yourself. “I quit.”
“What? You can’t give everything up for that man!”
“I don’t give up anything for Dean,” you cross your arms over your chest. “But I will no longer work with a man pretending to be a friend to get in my pants. I believed our friendship was special, now I know better.”
“Y/N,” he tries to touch your shoulder, but you slap his hand away. “You can’t believe his lies.”
“Save it, Arthur,” you shake your head. “I needed a friend, not another lover. I will clean out my office on Monday.”
You turn around and take a deep breath. One fight is done, another awaits you…
#dean winchester#dean x reader#dean winchester fanfic#dean winchester x reader#au!dean winchester#au!dean winchester x reader#x reader#Designed by pain (10)
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https://www.tumblr.com/olderthannetfic/750548921882918912/i-know-this-is-insanely-politically-incorrect-of?source=share
From what I've seen, the cis queer boys who pull the "ewwww, fujos" thing tend to be ace/aro, not gay.
Ace boys* have a lot in common with trans boys. They are both only nominally welcome in any queer space that isn't expressly made for them and them only, and they are both told that their identity isn't real, isn't acutally queer, and just generally isn't valid. They both often end up in places (like Tumblr) where being a boy or man of any kind is considered immoral and dangerous to women and "real" queers. And they are both told that being the kind of boy they are is antithetical to masculinity, and that this is a good thing.
Asexuality is considered inherently soft and weak and feminine, and ace boys are told that this makes them Better and Purer than "real" men, in much the same way trans boys are told that their bodies make them both not actually male and morally superior to cis boys and men (and whatever other identities are getting lumped in with cis men this week, usually trans men who pass too well or trans women who wear cargo shorts, but that's another rant).
It's not surprising that someone who is marginalised and invalidated within their own communities, at an age and life stage where they're only just figuring themselves out, would be the sort who would fall for this stuff.
***
So how it's shaped is there's a group (Tumblr queers) you want to earn recognition and acceptance from, but they don't like you and tell you you're not good enough for them.
The group claims that XYZ random thing (yaoi) is inherently harmful to a third party (gay men), and that thing is kinda squicky to you.
And you see a path to acceptence and group membership shining clearly. Reject the yaoi! Make a huge scene about how it makes you (a more socially acceptable and morally pure version of "queer man") feel weird when you think about the dirty terrible other people who enjoy yaoi!
They'll see that you aren't a filthy fujo with a woman's sexuality OR a gross and ugly queer man, you're a pure and wholesome and soft and nonthreatening boy. They HAVE to accept you now!
***
Which is all a very long way of saying that marginalized and ostracized boys tend to fall for purity police traps because they don't have the experience and context to know any better and because they're desperate for validation and community.
*I'm saying "boys" because I'm specifically talking about young people here and not talking about adult trans and ace men.
--
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Is High Lady a legitimate position? or was that just made up to make Feyre legitimately the most powerful fae (like her mate)? Does being a high lady require a different set of socio-political functions than any lady in Prythian? Or are they just ladies in positions of power who are really really powerful?
Also, should Elucien be the main couple in the next book, how do you want SJM to explore other courts since Lucien is connected to a lot of them?
Lastly, idk if you answered this but what attributes from Feysand and Nessian made you shy away from them becoming high king and queen? After seeing your posts about characteristics of Elucien that make them suitable to rule, I'd like to hear more from you!
This is not a hater question if you ship the canon couples. Hope you have a great day.
High Lady was a legitimate position at one point though it seems to have fallen out of favor as of late, probably because certain "dictator-like" High Lords who wed had / have the mentality that their wives are not their equals (i.e. Beron, Rhys's father).
I imagine the way Sarah has written it is that High Lady is different than other Lady's in society in that they are the rulers of a court. They share in the same decision making process / voice of authority for a court that a High Lord would. I actually think it has less to do with power and more to do with being the ones to set the laws, where those who work for them are expected to follow their orders when they do issue commands (a sometimes necessary thing).
Where their purpose is to ensure the safety and well being of their people.
As for as Elucien exploring other courts, I feel like Spring is where they'd spend a good bit of time because Spring is the court that needs the most work. The people have been ignored, the land is beginning to die and it's army is something the NC needs as an ally (not to mention a strong force against Beron).
Day I think they'll travel to in order to learn more about Elain's powers.
I think Autumn will be where they visit after Beron is defeated so Lucien can reconnect with his mother.
The human lands to meet with Jurian after Vassa is forced to return, I think we'll also see Elain finally put Graysen in his place.
Feysand are decent enough leaders.... To the Night Court. Everything they do is to protect the people of Velaris (not even so much other territories there) and while it can't be denied that they do love their citizens, they have proven they are willing to use the people of other courts as collateral to prioritize their goals.
Yes, they fought for all fae and humans during the war but Rhys's first priority during Amarantha’s reign was Velaris. Feyre was willing to displace innocent people in Spring in order to get revenge on Tamlin.
So while they do often care for many, they are still willing to sacrifice them at other times. A High King and High Lady will not make good rulers if they're already showing favoritism.
Nessian, I think it's a bit of the same not to mention Cassian is clearly uncomfortable with the political game which is territory being in charge comes with, like it or not. Nesta does fight for others but that character trait typically comes out only when she sees someone truly in need of a fighter and only when she deems it to be something truly unjust. I.e., she did speak up in the High Lords meeting but only after Beron declared the meeting was over. And Feyre initially asked her to tell her story during the meeting and Nesta refused. Nesta is a lot nicer to those she considers weak than those who are equal to her or more powerful. And she chose to ignore the people of Velaris after the war, choosing instead to drink and gamble for a year. I'm not faulting her for that, I understand she was depressed. But I think someone who is a leader tries to move forward and focuses on the needs of the people rather than letting themselves get sucked into themselves. It's kind of why Tamlin isn't the best leader, he let his depression overtake the needs of his court.
But Elain, after losing her father and Graysen and her humanity helped the fae in Velaris rebuild their gardens after the war even though we know she was still struggling. She made an effort to learn what fae traditions meant to them though she grew up fearing their kind. She became invested in the people rather than focusing on her losses. Her personality makes it possible for have decent a relationship with all personality types versus her her sisters who at times come off as combative towards others.
And Lucien? Though he's loyal, we've also been shown that he cares about the needs of the many. People get so caught up on how he didn't do more for Feyre but that's because to him there were many who also needed something. The people of spring, it's High Lord being able to help the court get back on its feet. Not to mention his choosing to help the humans rebuild after the war and sort out their politics. His willingness to help the NC.
Lucien doesn't have blind loyalty to just one place, he cares about many and to me, that is the kind of personality that would make for a fair and just High King.
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Older men will deadass just tell you to shut up and not talk over them on theyre first day of the job.
Iv been here for two years.
#Maybe its because hes a wannabe cop#but like. Everything about this decaying fuck screams "Men will literally refuse to sit down in a 'sitting down job' for posturing#instead of going to therapy#he fucking leaned into me#like#fully#put his hands up to my face and everything#trying to tell me his job is more important#fucking kill yourself#I was talking to my coworkers and they all told me to stand up for myself#that#“theyd never let a man treat them like that” but COME ON#when you tell someone like that to “be kind” they see it as weakness#im not even gonna give this person the opportunity to do the right thing because the “right thing”#in this persons mind#is weakness#im not even going to waste my energy#Nobody delete this plz. Seriously.#and im not even here to bitch about dudes im bitching about how older men were raised and the special breed of masculinity they embody#its just a whole lot of ick. The fact I can tell they want to be seen as strong so they force talk over you#but on the other hand#refuse to sit down or joke or be kind#its really fucking weird......
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zelda and shadow in the fsa manga drive me ridiculously insane actually. the panel where shadow is kneeling on the floor and zelda is standing there looking down at him and they're SEEING each other is enough to give me fucking RABIES. LOOK AT THIS
#IT'S ABOUT HOW THEY GO FROM ANTAGONIZING EACH OTHER AT THE BEGINNING TO ACTUALLY TRULY GENUINELY SEEING EACH OTHER AT THE END!!!!#HOW ZELDA GOES FROM 'You're no shadow! More like a faint and twisted echo! Even at his WORST Link would never be as crude and rude as you!'#TO 'Do you really think the light will hurt you? Don't you see? You are a Link‚ too. Deep inside‚ you're really a hero.'#AND HOW SHADOW GOES FROM 'Curse you... ...Princess Zelda!'#and. all the other things#TO BRAVING THE WORLD OF LIGHT AGAIN EVEN THOUGH HE'S WEAKENED AND PAINED AND TERRIFIED OF THE LIGHT#BECAUSE SHE WAS THE FIRST PERSON WHO EVER SPOKE A KIND WORD TO HIM AND MEANT IT. NO STRINGS ATTACHED. NO REWARD. JUST KIND.#EVEN WHEN SHE HAD ALL THE REASON NOT TO BE.#SO HE TAKES VIO'S FORM AND TELLS THE OTHER LINKS WHAT'S GOING ON (AND EXPERIENCES REAL CONCERN AND WORRY FROM THEM FOR THE FIRST TIME EVER#WHICH IS A WHOLE OTHER FUCKING POST) AND SHATTERS THE FUCKING MIRROR. SHATTERS HIS WHOLE LIFE.#BECAUSE SHE BELIEVED IN HIS ABILITY TO BE A HERO. BECAUSE SHE WAS KIND TO HIM. BECAUSE SHE SAW HIM. BECAUSE SHE *REALLY* SAW HIM.#BECAUSE HE WANTED TO SAVE HER. TO LIVE UP TO THAT KINDNESS. TO BE THE HERO SHE SAW IN HIM. LIKE!!!!!!!!!#i will lose my mind over it. i will genuinely lose my mind.#she looked at him as pathetic and weak and broken as he was and saw her friend in him. and she was kind. and so he sacrificed himself.#because someone was kind to him and meant it. head in my FUCKING hands.#sorry it's going insane about the four swords adventures manga again hours. but when is it not honestly#fsa#txt
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magnus is that genre of Teenage Boy that has the frame of a lumberjack but the build of a wet spaghetti noodle. given 5 more years and consistent nutrition he would've been a certified Hunk Of Meat™️ but instead he is stuck looking like a particularly poorly made scarecrow for the rest of eternity. tragic.
#MAGNUS doesnt know this but i am worldly and have a psychic link with this Very Real Person That Exists and do know#alex knows this btw and finds it very funny bc it is#see halfborn is the type of teenage boy who looks like hes 30 by the age of 15 canonically which i am obsessed with btw#that guy is usually a dick but is funny to think about and rotate in your brain#can you tell im in high school.#i am friends with someone of magnus' brand of Guy and he looks so scrunkly and scrawny but can squat an adult human#its a little off-putting tbh bc you look at him and go 'sweet little friend!' and he is but he could also break you in half like a saltine#this is the energy im trying to capture when i draw him btw#its very difficult but i have high hopes#im also friends with the girl version of that kind of guy. she eats croutons for fun and could break your bones#but definitely prefers playing anime character pokemon on discord :)#i love people.......#see my only cool physically traits are that i have almost 360° rotation in both legs and can dislocate my jaw hips and shoulders at will#which is cool and all but i want to pick people up which i cant really do bc im weak as shit :/#thats really off topic but fun#i like rambling in the notes!#its where i live :-)#anyway#magnus chase#mcga#raspberry rambles
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try to calm down and have a good time but then it’s like shit goes downhill sooo fast if i’m not overthinking everything. like UGH look what my trust has gotten me! god i hate relying on people.
#i just got too TIRED!!!!! i’m stressed and exhausted and i slipped a few times and now i already know my options have narrowed to one.#every time i have to rely on my parents the Worst Case Scenario happens. the thing i’m absolutely trying to avoid at all costs is what they#sabotage me into doing. i’m so fucking tired!!!!! i can’t rest for a second!!!!! god i’m such an idiot#whatever. whatever. how many times have i had to start my life over from scratch? it's not like it's fucking new.#but u know what. that means i'm tossing all my goddamned sketchbooks. photos too. they can come out here + see what's#worth salvaging#you think my life is so temporary it isn't worth anything at all? you come out here and sort it out.#jk i'm gonna just tell them to forget about it all and i'll figure it out on my own. sometimes i guess i ask for help + it's the wrong move#if i just think a little more on my own and say 'nobody else exists so i'll have to make the sacrifices on my own and take the long#arduous route' then it's fine. i knew i shouldn't have asked for help to begin with. i just sometimes want to believe there's someone there#who can help me. i think i just get weak sometimes. i want someone to care when i'm scared and have no knowledge about#what steps i have to take to do something#if i just let myself be scared alone but not fall into a total doom spiral then i can eventually pull myself out by researching#i just need to remember that. everything takes work and sacrifice but it's better than making some kind of deal.
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I want to talk about why I think this is the one of the most important Falin panels:
So, Falin is really nice, right? It's one of the first things we really learn about her. She's kind even to the monsters of the dungeon - choosing to ward the party rather than fight spirits and cause them needless harm.
In the above early flashback in chapter 11, we see Marcille fawning over Falin's kindness, calling her an angel. Namari calls her soft-hearted. We see Falin choose not to fight even when a zombie attacks - instead she resolves the confrontation with a hug. After the flashback, the first thing Senshi says is that Falin "sounds like quite the person," which Marcille strongly affirms.
At this point in the story, all we have seen of Falin are these impressions; she is a healer, an angel, a caretaker with an infinite well of kindness towards everyone she meets - both friend and foe.
And honestly, that remains most of what we have to go by to understand her. The only times we get to see Falin on the page, alive and just herself, are in the opening and closing pages of the story and in the brief period of time after she is resurrected.
Nonetheless, we do have some more details to work with. For one, there is the scene that The Panel is from - a short memory in chapter 75, when Marcille flashes back to while she's dying. In that scene, Falin prepares to teleport them all out, and says that she's sorry "if there is a person at [their] destination." And that's when we get The Panel.
If you teleport someone or something into another person, the person teleported into is likely to be, at minimum, severely injured. They could die.
We can see a lovely little horrifying example of exactly why in one of the Daydream Hour doodles:
So, hmm. That's not... that's not SUPER nice. Certainly not displaying the same "kindness to all, friend and foe included" we saw represented earlier. On a basic level, this adds some nuance to Falin's kindness. We see it break a little, when pushed to the limit. We see her chose to protect the people she loves above all else.
Which makes sense! As Laios says when the Winged Lion accuses him of similarly being motivated more by his friends' safety than everyone else in the dungeon, "...most people, aside from virtuous do-gooders, would feel the same way."
So, we can take The Panel as simply showing a moment of weakness for Falin. A time when she was pushed to her limits, and that "most people" selfish side of her shone through.
However... I think there's a little more going on with Falin than just her being an angel 99% of the time, except just that once. I love The Panel because I think it helps us understand that Falin isn't just motivated by kindness - she also has a desire to avoid seeing people in pain.
Isn't that the same thing?
No, no it very much is not.
Let's look at a short comic from the Falin section of the Adventurer's Bible, because I think it illustrates this point perfectly. The group is complaining about how much Marcille's healing hurts, and comparing it to Falin's, which "doesn't hurt a bit." Marcille retorts with the following:
Now, the punchline of this comic is that, despite Marcille's sentimental assertion that she's "thinking of [them]" by letting her healing magic hurt, they all still prefer to be healed by Falin.
But hey, this wouldn't be the first time that Dungeon Meshi hides a very real character beat or insight in a gag, so let's think about this somewhat seriously.
If Marcille is right (and she knows a fair bit about magic, so we can assume that she has at least somewhat of a point), then what Falin is doing isn't kind. I suppose if someone specifically requested to not feel the pain, it could be kind, but that's not really what happened here. She is the one who felt badly about the others being in pain, and she is the one who decided, without telling them or giving them a choice in the matter, to take away that pain.
Both Marcille and Falin are healing the party, but Marcille is doing it in a way that accomplishes the task in the most straight forward way, without any additional interference. Falin is going out of her way to perform the healing in a way she is more comfortable with. A way that avoids pain.
Going back the The Panel, I don't think its a coincidence that the only time we see Falin (well, non-chimera Falin) willing to do something that could hurt someone is when any potential pain will be far away from her. If she got someone hurt or killed by teleporting the party to the surface? Not only would it be far out of her sight, but she'd be dead before she had to deal with any consequences of that action.
Falin is not a confrontational person. She doesn't push when Marcille won't tell her the truth about the resurrection, and she comforts Laios about her own death - both of those things happening in the only full chapter she is alive and conscious in the whole story.
We also know that she considered accepting Shuro's proposal, despite not having any special feelings towards him, and that Falin never explained to Marcille that she wanted them to share a meal together. When she brought Marcille various foods at the academy, she just accepted Marcille's confused rejection and gave up.
And lastly, we know that she is still in contact with her parents, despite the neglect and abuse she suffered at their hands. Although the way someone chooses to handle contact with abusive or bad family is a complicated topic, which I don't want to overly simplify, I do I think this fact gets at the heart of how she handles conflict.
So many people that Falin loves have hurt her. There are understandable hurts, like Laios leaving the village, or Marcille not understanding the food. And there are bigger, far less justifiable hurts - like her parents neglecting her throughout her childhood, and sending her away to be alone at the magic academy.
It doesn't seem like Falin has ever confronted any of it directly.
And the unhealthy aspects of this kind of avoidance of pain and confrontation is one of the things that the story of Dungeon Meshi is all about. We see Laios grapple with it before he goes to kill Falin, and we see Marcille acknowledge it at the end of the story, when she tells Laios that she has come to terms with Falin's death:
Eating is a part of life. Consuming other living things is a part of life. It isn't really possible to avoid that pain - you can only hide from the truth of it. You have to be selfish everyday. You have to eat - to choose to live. To choose to take up space.
And this is something Falin embraces, too. She comes back to life, after all.
We see her choose to come back to life.
And how does she make that choice? She eats. She consumes, and then she is asked a question by the manifestation of hunger itself:
Do you want to eat more?
There is a double meaning in the Winged Lion's final words on the next page.
When I first read this, I took it as him saying: life is cruel. You will suffer. You will feel more pain.
But perhaps, especially for Falin, this also means: you are choosing a path where you must cause pain. Where you must consume. Where you must take, and must be selfish. Because eating is the special privilege of the living, and it is their burden, too. In order to stay alive, she will need to keep eating.
And she chooses that. Chooses to be selfish. It's why her resurrection scene is so important, and it's why The Panel is so important. Because Falin coming back isn't the ultimate reward for all of the party's hard work.
It's her choice. Just like it was her choice that started everything in the first place. But this time, she doesn't choose to accept causing pain for the sake of Marcille and Laios. She does it for her own sake.
#dungeon meshi#delicious in dungeon#falin touden#dunmeshi analysis#I love it when dungeon meshi says. the trauma was real and it changed you#and the way you are because of it isn’t anything to be ashamed of#but you have to keep living. you have to chose to keep living.#and you can#dungeon meshi spoilers
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Okay, you know how bird don't ACTUALLY look the way we think they do?
They are far more colorful? But only to the eyes of other birds?
And it has to do with how light reflects off them and how their eyes are shaped etc etc.?
Well..... humans can see the most shades of green, right? But! We sure as shit can't see UltaViolet and InfraRed? Or shades BEYOND those. Ectoplasmic colors. Magical ones. Third eye, need to see with your SOUL type ones.
Danny? Could very well still have lil baby "kitten's eyes who haven't open yet" syndrome.
He thinks the Zone is Green and his hair is white.
But it's not.
His hair is Starlight colored. Frost. His suit is specifically "the void between stars" colored. Which looks... different? Then black? No, no, guys. How can you guys not see it? It looks REALLY different! How did he not NOTICE before?! They're not ever CLOSE to the same shade! It's like calling salmon and hot pink the same. You know... if you were to compare an actual fish and some irradiated, violently glowing version of "hot pink".
......guys?
His gloves are.... guys, these ares stars. Pressed so close together there's no gap. His body is the night sky, all rearranged. He's wearing SPACE, guys.
*continues to stare at his gloves for the next five hours*
Now... why is this relevant? Because! Danny slowly, as all humans do, adjusts! It's like finally having glasses after years of blurry vision. He... forgets, what it was like, not NOT See Zone Colors. Not completely, mind you, but enough he has to be reminded.
And the Zone? A Realm of the Dead. Specifically, the great catch-all and highway of the Dead. They get EVERYBODY. Misfits and vagabonds. Those who don't quite fit. Funky lil dudes. And of course, assholes, but everybody has those! See, Zone colors?
Are DIFFERENT.
They're all of um!
It's like looking at the technicolor, stobe light, multi galaxies in one, Sun. Tingly(tm)!!! You get used to it. What helps? Is that as garish as the Zone is? The painting and grand tapestry of it all? Keeps changing. Like weather. If it's too much for you, you can stay inside your Lair until the current Color changes. Until the designs shift. Vibe changes.
There are even glasses for that! "Temperate" areas for people to set up, that get headaches or are just... kinda killjoys. Too each their own. Though the stormy areas? Those guys are freaks. Watch out for those guys. They're the kind who stare directly are stars until their eyes burn out.
Where was I? Oh yeah! Danny!
No longer a wee baby, smol baby, twig-o!
Sad. We miss it.
But he did get used to Seeing The Colors. Got a handle on his powers. And! Finally worked with his parents on how to safely turn the portal OFF. There was much booing. Cries of "kill joy" and "booo! You suck!". But? Like? Dude DID have the right to protect his home. Go to college. What can you do?
Problem with THAT is? Baby grew into his "built like a brick shit house of constantly running off to literally tackle the Supernatural excellence" Fenton genetics. He Tall. Muscles! And he PUMPING out "somethings fucked up with me" Vibes!
Add in his DEEPLY Sus off hand comments. Weird ability to tell when someone has or is about to die. Basic immunity to the cold. Fuckin EYE GLOW?
Ha ha... *Horror movie screams from his college dorm mates*
Clearly a demon!
He gets kicked out. Well... not kicked out. He's a model student and broken no rules. They'd never survive the lawsuit. But... he's? STRONGLY INCOURAGED to finish his education elsewhere. Repeatedly. By like... 15 colleges.
Sam is not just livid, she's actively foaming at the mouth.
Breathe, Sam! Remember what your doctor said! Your mortal body can't handle that kinda Vengance spiral! Think of your blood pressure! Breathe!!! (Were not for the laws of this land... and the weak, fleshy constraints of her mortal form!)
Thankfully? Tucker's been interning, remotely of course, with Wayne Industries. He asked his manager where he could find some of those scholarship forms. (Since Gotham University is just a touch out of Danny's price range.) Manager wanted to know why. And oh! Oh holy shit. Apparently? Danny is the hot new office gossip.
People in the main office are OUTRAGED. Danny's "too spooky"?! Too FUCKIN SPOOKY!? Are you KIDDING THEM? Even juicier, a Meta kid from some wacky ghost hunters turned scientists. From a line of Supernatural hunters. Wants to be a aeronautics engineer.
Ooooooh how SPOOKY! Better watch out! He'll design an ENGINE at yooooou!
Fuckin casuals. Non-Gothamites are WEAK. "Too scary" their collective asses. Yeah, maybe the kid SHOULD come too Gotham. He can be the weird kid. Mildly unsettling or something. His powers won't be SHIT in Gotham. Just remind him to buy a gas mask.
So! Danny gets his Scholarship! Merrily packs his bags for darker, Gothic hellscape hills. Unaware... that Constantine has been following reports of a "demon" that he's? 80% sure is a Banshee but MIGHT be a winter spirt with a shtick? For the past 13 colleges. He's getting closer. And this sucker is a strong one.
Not "this is going to cause me serious, life imperilling danger" strong. But more? "Man, that cat is HUUUUUGE". Could he still get mauled a lil? Yeah. Scratched to all hell and back? Probably! But DIE? Unlikely.
He just needs to know why the FUCK this spirit his hanging around colleges.
Which is made harder... by the fact that what HE sees? And what OTHER people see? When they look at this guy? Separate things. Yeah, he'd LOVE to give you guys a description! IF HE HAD ONE.
@the-witchhunter @hdgnj @hdgnj @spidori @babbling-babull @nerdpoe @lolottes
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Happy Valentine's, all. <3
Eddie doesn't want to be making this call. Literally the last thing he wants to be doing is making this specific phone call, but he'll be damned if he lets his asshole of a roommate get away with this.
After a moment the ringing stops, and a voice says "Hello?"
"Uh, hi, is this Steve?"
"It is, who is this?"
"It's Eddie, Jake's roommate? I got your number from him." Well, from his phone when he'd left it unattended one day, but Steve doesn't need to know the details. "I really, really hate to be making this call, especially the day before Valentine's, but uh. Jake is cheating on you."
The line is silent for a moment before he hears a weak "What?"
Eddie's eyes squeeze shut at the heartbreak he can hear in that single word. He hates that he's doing this, but knows it needs to be done, for Steve's sake.
"I got home from work not too long ago, and heard him with some girl in his room. I took a video, if you want proof, but I just- I thought you deserved to know."
There's a bit of shuffling on Steve's end, along with a soft sniffle. "I, uh. I don't need the video. I believe you. I'm not all that surprised, if I'm honest."
He huffs a laugh, the sound so self-deprecating that it makes Eddie's stomach twist in empathy. "Guess that makes me three-for-three on my long-term partners cheating. I'm starting to wonder what the fuck is wrong with me."
That last part is softer, like Steve was speaking to himself, but Eddie hears it and frowns, because- because Steve is lovely. He can tell that Steve is beautiful inside and out, always kind with just enough sass to make him so fun to be around.
He's always makes sure to talk to Eddie every time he comes over, even if it's just a simple greeting or goodbye, and whenever he cooks at their apartment - because he's a great cook - he always makes enough for Eddie to have some as well.
It feels wrong to hear Steve talk like this, like there's something about him that needs to be fixed. Like his previous partners were right to abuse his love and trust, instead of treating them like the treasures Eddie knows they are.
Before Eddie can speak out to reassure him, the man continues. "Thank you for telling me Eddie. Spending Valentine's alone is gonna suck, but I guess that's better than spending it with someone who doesn't care about me."
"Spend it with me."
Eddie isn't sure where the request comes from, but as soon as it leaves his mouth, it's all he wants.
Steve gives a soft "Huh?" and Eddie repeats it, "Spend it with me. A boy as pretty as you shouldn't be cooped up inside on a day like Valentine's. Let me take you out, try to salvage it for you at least a little."
Steve goes quiet, and for a solid ten seconds, Eddie is sure that he's about to be rejected.
And then Steve says "Jake was supposed to pick me up at 6:30 tomorrow. I'll come by yours at six instead, so I can break up with him before we leave. Is that okay?"
A sigh of relief, and Eddie slumps into the wall behind him. "Sounds perfect, Stevie. Wear something nice, but casual, okay?"
"I can do that. I'll see you tomorrow, Eddie. And thanks again."
Jake comes across Eddie the next evening as he's packing the last of the food into a bag. He's spent the last hour or so getting it ready, making sure it's all perfect even though it's nothing too complicated.
A meat and cheese plate with some fancy crackers, a jar of the pickled asparagus he's recently become addicted to, a bowl of diced fruit and a box of fancy chocolates he'd splurged on.
He'd even dropped money on a bouquet of roses, and he already has a few comfy blankets and pillows packed into the back of the van. Everything perfect and ready to go. When Jake sees his preparations, he lets out a low whistle.
"Wow, Eddie. Trying to impress someone?"
Eddie shrugs, trying to be as nonchalant as possible. "Yep. It's our first date, so I want it to be special. Didn't wanna go the usual, boring, fancy restaurant route."
He's sure that's what Jake had planned for himself and Steve, and it's confirmed by the way his nose wrinkles. "There's nothing wrong with spending money on your date, Eddie. If you have the money to spend, that is."
Jesus Christ, Eddie can't wait to move out of this fucking place, and away from this fucking asswipe.
"Anyway, I've gotta go pick up Steve soon, and I'm planning on bringing him back here tonight, so maybe see if you can crash with your date, yeah?"
"Sure thing-" Eddie replies, though he's interrupted by the sound of a knock ringing through the apartment. He grins wide, knowing exactly who it is. "That must be my date. Can you grab that while I finish up here?"
Jake rolls his eyes but complies, and Eddie freezes in place, not daring to make a sound so he can hear whatever interaction is about to happen.
The door opens, and he hears Jake's confused "Steve? What are you doing here? I'm supposed to be-"
"Yeah, we're not doing anything anymore. Ever again, actually."
God, Steve sounds so bitchy, and Eddie fucking loves it. He grabs the bag of food and the bouquet of roses from the counter, glad that he got dressed beforehand, and makes his way to the entry.
"What are you saying, Steve?"
"I'm saying that we're over, Jake. Maybe you can call the girl you fucked last night and take her to dinner instead."
Eddie turns the corner in time to see Jake's stunned expression, clearly not expecting Steve to throw that at him. He takes a moment to bask in the fire burning behind hazel eyes, until they slide to him and that fire vanishes, replaced with something sparkling and delighted.
"Hi, Eddie," Steve says, his demeanor changing like the flip of a switch, and Eddie beams. He steps closer and offers the bouquet of roses, along with a "Happy Valentine's, Stevie."
The money Eddie spent on the flowers was worth it to see the blush that floods Steve's face as he reaches out to take them.
"Oh, thank you. That's really sweet of you."
"What the fuck is happening right now?"
Eddie and Steve both turn to look at a very petulant and confused Jake, and Steve just smiles. "Well, you just got dumped, and my Valentine is about to take me on a date."
It takes a moment, but something must finally click, because Jake's face goes red with rage. Eddie just grabs Steve's arm, guiding him out of the apartment before the man can actually do something.
"So what's the plan?" Steve asks as he takes Eddie's hand, lacing their fingers together as Eddie leads him to his van.
"Well, uh. The next town over still has a drive in theater, and they're showing some old romance movies tonight. The drive to get there is pretty nice, and we'll actually have some time to talk, and then- I have some blankets and pillows in the back of the van, and I brought food so we can do a picnic during the movies. I mean, if- if that sounds good to you."
Steve's eyes are sparkling again as Eddie rambles, and he squeezes their hands in delight. "That sounds perfect, Eds."
By the time Eddie gets home late that night, he's learned two things:
The first is that Steve had already been debating on breaking up with Jake before this whole fiasco, but the thing stopping him was that he actually likes being around Eddie, and he thought wanting to hang out with his ex-boyfriend's roommate would be too weird.
The second thing Eddie's learned is that Steve's smile tastes like dark chocolate and sunshine, and kissing him might just be Eddie's new favorite hobby.
(Eddie does eventually show the video to Steve, just to reassure him that he didn't break them up so Eddie could date him instead. The only comment Steve makes is "She's definitely faking, his dick game isn't that good.")
#i didn't plan on writing over 1k for valentine's#but here we are#steddie#steddie fluff#steddie fic#steve x eddie#steddie au#steve harrington#eddie munson#joey writes
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you'd be the love of my life when i was young
summary: gryffindors wear their heart on their sleeve when they fall in love. slytherins keep their heart locked far away to keep it from breaking.
pairing: poly!marauders x reader (sirius x reader, remus x reader, lily x reader, and james x reader)
tags: slight angst, fluff, lucius malfoy, happy ending
note: i have a chemistry quiz due in 50 minutes but this takes priority. . . i haven't written in a while so forgive my rusty writing skills, they've only been let out from the basement today. not proofread, we die like the marauders. (title is taken from the song, 21 by gracie abrams, because that's roughly around the age jily die. hehe.)
They said when you fell in love with the right people, everything would fall in place after.
What a load of bullshit.
You had come to a conclusion one winter morning, laying in the Gryffindor common room dressed in your woolly, green jumper. You rested on the worn-out leather seat, nervously fiddling with your fingers as you stared at the ceiling, thinking about how it was going terribly wrong. How funny it was, that the 30th of December greeted you with an existential crisis instead of presents and hot chocolate.
There was something quite wrong with you, you had noticed for the past few months.
Every time Sirius Black smiled at you, showing off his pearly canines and the crinkles by his deep-grey eyes, you would experience a painful, tightening sensation in your chest — like someone was squeezing at your heart. Most people knew Sirius Black, the prankster, but you were lucky enough to know Sirius, the kind and spirited boy who had a heart that loved fiercely more than anyone you knew.
Cosy afternoons found you in the library with Remus Lupin, and a strange feeling would erupt in your stomach whenever Remus leaned down, and you’d catch a whiff of pine needles and fresh mint. Shaggy, blond hair falling over his eyes as he came to life, talking about your common love for muggle books. He made time feel like an illusion, minutes fading away into hours as the two of you shared stifled giggles, cheeks numb by the time you left the room.
And James, oh James Potter. It was difficult to describe what you felt with him — but with James, the brightest colours in the world couldn’t even compare to him. James was like putting on a pair of brand-new eyeglasses and seeing everything clearly for the first time. And without a doubt, you knew that James would never let you get hurt. But these days, you were weak in the knees as you’d see him across the Great Hall, waving at you excitedly as he bellowed your name, and to come and sit next to them.
Last, but certainly not the least, Lily Evans. Her sweet, airy voice was a warm hug on a cold day. And her actual hugs were second to none — don’t tell Sirius, however, he liked to shift into Padfoot to steal Lily’s title as the queen of cuddling. Lily flowers were delicate, she was anything but. The spitfire of Gryffindor, who would raise her chin and defy anyone who would harass you for hanging out with them.
(“You’re our emotionally constipated Slytherin,” said Lily as she mushed your cheeks, cooing when you tried to glare at her, and the three boys guffawing in the background. They liked to tease you often, being a year younger than them.)
Were you dying?
That was the only plausible explanation to your palpitating heart and rickety knees.
No, it was definitely not because you had gone and fell in love with your best friends.
That was absurd.
You had tried venting to Lucius Malfoy once. Narcissa often doted on you, sneakily leaving treats on your desk before she left for her class, and fussing when you got sick — which was quite often. That meant, when you weren’t with the marauders, you were trailing after the Slytherin power couple, or Severus.
(Lucius curled his lips in disgust, Narcissa sipping tea by his side, failing at hiding her knowing smirk. “I am above such childish matters,” hissed Lucius, scowl deepening when Narcissa laughed heartily, looking happier than she had been since returning home for the holidays. “I do not know why you’d even think to come to me for this.”
You huffed.
Maybe you’d try Severus next.
Naturally, he stormed off the moment Lily’s name fell from your lips.
Your resident seventh-years were confusing.)
Fortunately, you were stripped from your thoughts when the entrance to the common room slammed open, the paintings clamouring as they were disturbed from their slumber. One by one, the marauders piled inside the room, a string of melodious laughter and boisterous conversations following their arrival. Hastily, you sat up, heart thudding against your ribcage. Silence, you wretched beast, you told it. Don’t let them see how I burn for them.
“There you are!” Sirius came into view first, grinning widely as he crossed the room to reach you. “Who said you could be this pretty in the morning, love?”
Ba-dump!
Sirius plopped down head first onto your lap, manoeuvring your hand to comb through his hair as he sighed in contentment. “Bloody hell,” He exhaled shakily, “Last night was the worst one we’ve ever been through.”
Your fingers ghosted through the new scar etched across his sharp cheekbones — it was nothing Madam Pomfrey couldn’t fix, but you still didn’t like the sight of them bruised and wounded. Swiftly, Sirius grabbed your hand and intertwined your own with his. “I’m sorry,” You whispered.
Sirius chuckled tiredly, tightening his hold on you, as though you were a tether that kept him afloat in his sea of nightmares.
(And you were. If only you knew.)
“It’s not your fault,” said Sirius.
Then, your eyes landed on Remus limping towards you, his bare skin littered with scrapes and marks, supported with an arm around James’s broad shoulders. He sent a toothy smile your way, despite the tired lines on his forehead and deep bags beneath his eyes. “Waited up all night for us, huh?”
“I just couldn’t sleep knowing you guys were out there,” You whispered sheepishly. “It’s too dangerous, what happens if something goes terribly wrong, and it costs you your life? We need to tell someone.”
“Everyone who needs to know, already knows.” Remus bit down a pained expression as he sat by your side, head lolling on your shoulder. “This is the best we have for now.”
You didn’t like it.
You didn’t like it at all.
Before you could reply, Remus turned his head, lips feathering against your exposed skin. His voice was low as he said, “‘Sides, it’s our job to worry about you, not the other way around.”
“Well, I apologize for interrupting your job,” You whispered back harshly, wondering if that was all you were to them, a younger friend they felt the need to look after. Oh, how mortifying that would be.
James chuckled from behind you, bending over the back of the couch, he pressed a kiss to the side of your head, lingering for a few moments that felt like an eternity. “You’re too adorable,” said James, tweaking your nose. “Our angry, little Slytherin.”
“I’m not little.” You glowered at him.
“Perhaps not.” James smiled cheekily. “But you’re ours.”
Often times, you had wondered how the five of you came to be so tight-knit, knowing their disdain for most of the Slytherins.
(Little did you know, you smiled at them once in Potions, and they were a goner.)
Something stirred deep in your belly.
You sucked in a breath. “Don’t say things like that, James.”
People could get the wrong idea.
You could get the wrong idea.
“Well, why not?” Lily appeared in your peripheral vision, the scent of blooming wildflowers and fresh rain filling the room. Like the three boys, her skin was sallow from lack of sleep, but her bare face and blinding grin left your heart racing. “It’s true, isn’t it?”
It could be, just not in the way you wanted it to be true.
You sighed. “Class is going to start in a few hours, I should get going.”
“Or,” James began wickedly, throwing a thick blanket onto the floor by the fireplace, and tossing a bunch of throw pillows at Sirius’s face. “We could have a sleepover right here.”
“Sounds good to me,” said Lily merrily, stealing James’s blanket as she placed a pillow beneath her head.
“I really have to go—” You reasoned pathetically.
“Stay,” whispered Sirius without even opening his eyes as he curled his lithe fingers around your wrist. “You being here makes us feel better.”
They were too cruel, saying all these sweet words, not knowing how it drove knives through your heart.
James yawned as he laid on the carpeted floor, hiking the blanket up to his shoulders as he threw a leg over Lily, pulling her close to his chest, nuzzling the crook of her neck. “D’you have your textbooks with you, love?” He asked you drowsily.
“No,” You answered, any other words lodged in your throat.
“That’s fine.” James hummed. “I’ll just get the cloak and sneak into the dungeons later to get the books for you.”
“Sleep,” Remus urged you, unaware how you shivered at his words.
“You can’t be comfortable like that,” You told him in disbelief, watching his neck bend at an angle to lay on your shoulder.
“Trust me,” said Remus gently, eyelashes tickling your skin, “I’m right where I want to be.”
You had grown silent for a few beats, unaware how Sirius’d opened his eyes, staring at your worried expression.
(How could one person be so perfect, he wondered.)
“You alright, darling?” He reached out to trace the curve of your jaw with his thumb, the palm of his hand holding your face as though you were a pureblood’s antique treasure. (Mine, mine, mine, his heart screamed.)
But like the Slytherin you were, you lied as easily as you breathed.
“I’m fine.”
As you laid in between Remus and Sirius, watching the peaceful rise of Lily and James’s chests, you had come to a daunting realization.
You were irrevocably and agonizingly in love with your best friends.
And because fate liked to spit in your face, the four of them were already in a beautiful, committed relationship.
Who were you to get in the way of that?
—
They would understand, you convinced yourself.
They would understand that you had to stay away from them. You had to protect your heart and keep it safe. The marauders were a dangerous bunch, and they had played the biggest prank on you, and by Merlin, would you fall for this particular prank over and over again if it meant you could hear their voices and fall into their embrace.
But you couldn’t stay. They would only crush your heart otherwise.
If Gryffindors wore their heart on their sleeves when they fell in love, Slytherins protected theirs with every fibre of their being, locking it in a cage where no one else can have the power to break it.
Like what any love-stricken teenager would do in the face of heartbreak, you began to ignore the objects of your affections — ignoring the way your soul called out to theirs.
It wasn’t as obvious the first few days. You would escape their company under the ruse of studying for McGonagall and Flitwick’s practical tests.
(“They’re notoriously difficult after all,” You told them, a nervous laugh accompanying your lie. Peter eyed you curiously, noticing small details the others could not see — your quivering lips, your nails digging into your palms, and the way your eyes wouldn’t meet any of theirs. “I just don’t want to fail.”
You could have cried at the way James held the back of your head as he placed a soft kiss on your forehead. “You’ll do well, love. You always do.”
“You can study with me, if you want,” Remus quickly offered. “I’m not as good as James in transfiguration, but I can definitely teach better than those two.”
“Hey!” Sirius exclaimed in mock offence.
“Thanks, it’s sweet of you to offer,” You told them, shifting your weight awkwardly from one foot to the other. “But—”
“Say less, darling,” Lily interjected kindly, wrapping her scarf around your neck. She smiled at you, holding both your cheeks in her palms. “They’re the worst lot to study around, I know. Just don’t study too hard, okay? Take breaks, have a cup of tea now and then, and remember it’s okay to ask for help — don’t give me that face — if it gets too overwhelming, just ask. We’re here for you in every way you need us.”
Oh.
You were well and truly screwed.
“Thanks,” You croaked.)
But it was getting harder and harder to come up with excuses.
(“Wotcher!” Sirius grinned, encasing you in a tight hug after bumping into you in the corridor. “Haven’t seen you in a while, busy bee. Fancy a lunch with us in Hogsmeade?”
You scrunched your nose, red and bitten from the winter frost, stepping away from him and ignoring the way his face fell. “I. . . I can’t. I’ve got practice with the Frog Choir.”
Sirius shoved his hands in his trouser pockets. “S’alright. I can wait and pick you up right after, then we’ll swing by that shop you really like—”
“I can’t, Sirius,” You interrupted harshly, wrapping your arms around your chest as your gaze dropped to the ground. “Sorry. I just. . . I’ll just catch you some other time.”
Sirius flinched. “Sure, love. Other time, yeah?”
But only the wind replied.
Saturday came, and along with it was the long-awaited match between Gryffindor and Slytherin. James, decked out in his uniform, bounded over to you at the Slytherin’s side of the Great Hall, oblivious to the death glares some of your housemates had sent his way. He wrapped his arms around you from behind, lifting you from your seat.
“It’s Quidditch day, pidge!” James tilted his head, awfully resembling a lost, confused puppy. “Why aren’t you dressed yet? It’s the game of games! Even Remus is announcing the game later.”
You bit your lip before responding. “I’m not going, James.”
“What?” He furrowed his brows. “Why not?”
Ever since you had become friends with James Potter in your first year, you had never missed a single game of his. Except for the one time you had fallen sick during his match against Hufflepuff — and the moment he knew you were ill, the game ended in less than two minutes, by his sheer determination to get by your side quickly and make sure you weren’t alone.
You sighed. “I don’t know, James, I’m just not feeling up to it today.”
It was a big, fat lie, and he knew it too.
You didn’t go to his match later that day.
It was one of the biggest losses James had ever experienced — he wasn’t talking about Quidditch.)
Your housemates were beginning to realize was something was off as well. They might not be particularly fond of the Gryffindors that captured your heart, but they were fond of you, and they guarded their own.
You had a stare-down with Regulus Black in the common room — and you weren’t about to lose — before he blinked and asked, “What did my brother do?”
“Nothing,” You replied, pretending to be engrossed with your herbology textbook.
Severus rolled his eyes before plucking the book out of your hands. “Spit it out, woman. We’ve had to watch you mope around pathetically for days now. It’s irritating the rest of us.”
You sniffled. “Then just leave me alone! No one asked you to check up on me!”
“Unfortunately, we can’t.” Severus took a seat beside Regulus. With a pained grimace, he said, “So you can. . . pour your heart out to us.”
“I can’t.” You wailed. “I’m a Slytherin, we’re the worst at that.”
Regulus shrugged his shoulders. “It’s true. We’re hopeless.”
“But,” He raised his wand, “We do speak in jinxes and curses.”
“Don’t you dare!” You blubbered, wiping at your tears — but somehow, without having to express it in words, they understood, and you had felt lighter.
Still, you missed them.
“This is pathetic.” Lucius enters the common room, Narcissa holding onto his arm, watching the scene before him with blank eyes. “Black, Snape, get out, you’re only making whatever this is, worse.”
Narcissa was by your side in an instant, dabbing at your wet eyes and cheeks with a handkerchief that cost more than your life. “Hush now, darling. What’s wrong, hm? Was it that idiot cousin of mine? Don’t worry, Lucius can tell his father, and we’ll have them begging at your feet by tomorrow.”
You cried louder.
“I jest, I jest.” Narcissa softly chuckled, pulling your hair away from your face as she tugged you close. “Please tell us what’s wrong. It’s been awful seeing you like this for the past few days.”
Lucius sat on the loveseat across you, resting his feet atop the glass coffee table. “Yes, I beg you — do as she says, for the love of Merlin. But, really, what else did you expect, associating yourself with that ragtag of miscreants?”
Narcissa glared at him.
Lucius raised his arms in surrender.
Narcissa clicked her tongue before returning her attention to you, eyes softening at your tear-stricken face. She smiled, albeit sadly, as she said, “Perhaps, I know what is wrong.” She gestured to the way you clutched at the front of your shirt. “It is the matters of the heart, is it not?”
You nodded weakly. “I love them.”
“And they, you,” said Narcissa. “So, what is wrong?”
“I love them!” You hiccuped.
“Unfortunately.” Lucius handed you a tissue. “The whole of Hogwarts knows this already, so I do not understand why you’re blowing snot all over my fiancé’s robes about it.”
“They don’t feel the same way about me,” You confessed with a sob.
Lucius stared at you incredulously. “Please do not tell me that you are this daft.”
“What do you mean?” You asked him through narrowed, teary eyes, Narcissa rubbing the tips of your numb fingers from crying so much.
“I did not sign up for this.” Lucius rubbed at his temples as he stood up. “I will only say this once, so make sure you are listening. Those Gryffindor idiots are so disastrously in love with one another — let me finish, damn you — and if you cannot see that they love you too, then it is your own fault. It physically pains me to see the way they smile when you are near. They would move the earth for you, and they would shake the heavens for you.”
—
Gryffindors must have hearts made of steel, because you didn’t know how they could be so brave, to look fear right in the eyes and say: I’m ready.
Because you surely weren’t. You were headed towards your usual spot in the courtyard by the clock tower, legs heavy and swell deep in your throat. Then, you found them, looking so achingly beautiful under the sunlight, huddled together for warmth as they smiled and laughed at lame puns and mistimed jokes.
Did you have a place with them?
You were about to find out.
“Hey,” You greeted once you were right in front of them. A month of evading them, and now you were here. It was like finding a piece of your soul that you had lost.
(For them, seeing you was like finally being able to breathe again.)
“Hey,” said Lily, devoid of any warmth, and that broke you.
Bravery was poison, you decided. A trap for weak-hearted fools like you.
Sirius shot James a look before clenching his jaw. “No choir practice today? No study sessions with Cissa or Reg? Wait, no, I’ve got it. Slughorn’s dinner party? Or is it detention with McGonagall today? Does her highness finally feel up to talking to the peasants?”
You inhaled sharply. “Never mind. This was a bad idea.”
But this — is what you deserved. You had hurt them badly, so it was only right for them to stomp on your heart for everyone to see, just as you did to them many times this month.
A sob tore from your lips as you swivelled on your heels, ready to flee the scene and never show your face to anyone else ever again. Yet, before you could leave, Remus clamped his hand over your wrist.
“Why?” He stared at you, searching for anything that could explain your sudden behaviour. Remus looked at you with such emotion, tightly holding onto you — but never enough to hurt, because Remus could never be capable of hurting you. He’d die before he would ever cause you pain.
(You made him feel unafraid of the moon.)
“Was. . . was it something I did?” Remus asked, laying his wounds bare for you to see. “Was it me?”
“I love you!” You shouted in the midst of panic — you had never wanted to cause Remus to doubt himself. Your loud declaration had caught the attention of some, but you stood on, curling your fists firmly. You needed to do this.
“I love you.” You said once more, breathlessly, staring right into James’s eyes. Such a beautiful shade of hazel. “I love each one of you. And it. . . it hurts right here.” Tears dripped from your eyes to the side of your chin as you splayed your hand over where your heart rested.
“Because you don’t feel the same.”
The four of them simply gazed at you, slack-jawed and wide-eyed.
You took that as confirmation for what you had been fearing all along.
“And that’s okay if you don’t,” You snivelled, unable to see clearly with the streams of tears in your eyes. You thought of how Sirius melted at Lily’s touch and how Remus was the anchor to James’s wild streak. How they all complemented each other and fit perfectly like puzzle pieces. “Just give me a few months, and I’ll get over it. It’s a stupid crush anyway, it’s my fault. The four of you are perfect together, how could—”
“Shut up,” James hissed before cupping your face and pulling you in for a kiss. Cherries and pumpkin pasties. He kissed you deeply once more before pressing his lips to your eyes, desperately washing away your tears with his devotion. “Was that it? We could have been doing this ages ago.”
“What?” You rasped, knees buckling at the weight of his gaze.
James only smiled, stealing your third kiss.
Sirius pulled your hand, his arm encasing your waist as you stumbled to his chest. Like James, he kissed you fervently, like he wanted to chase off all your fears and doubts. His lips were warm against yours — firewhiskey. You wanted to be burnt by his flames again and again. He held you close, committing every inch to memory.
(You were art that he wanted to worship.)
He kissed your forehead. “We love you, daft girl.”
He kissed both of your eyes, chuckling when a new wave of tears came. “We have loved you ever since you burnt my mother’s howler in fourth year, and gave us poorly-knitted sweaters for Christmas.”
“I love you,” said Sirius. “As certain as the spring that arrives after winter, I love you.”
You snuffled. “I. . . I don’t understand.”
Remus stepped in your line of sight to place his jacket over you — it was Sirius’s leather jacket, really, but Remus liked to claim it occasionally. He bundled you in earmuffs and rested his chin atop your head, exhaling in relief. “I thought it was me.”
You shook your head, clinging to the front of his shirt. “No, never. It was me. I’m sorry.”
Remus grinned wolfishly, eyes swooping down to your kiss-stained lips. (There you were, standing in the snow that threatened to melt, eyes rimmed with tears, hair wildly ablaze from the cold breeze, cheeks damp and red — but how devastatingly beautiful you were.) “May I?”
You nodded. “P-Please.”
Blueberries and dark chocolate. Remus whispered against your lips, “If it wasn’t already clear, the feeling is bloody mutual — we love you, just as the moon loves the sun enough to chase after it every day.” He grabbed your hand and placed it over his heart, you were surprised to see him holding back tears of his own. “All my life, I thought I was this monster who didn’t deserve to live. But you, all of you, make me selfish enough to want to belong here.”
He kissed you desperately, words of adoration and love falling from his lips.
Finally, your eyes settled on Lily. You waited for her reaction with a bated breath.
You hadn’t expected for her to burst into tears as she rushed over to you.
“Don’t you ever do that again,” said Lily angrily before circling you in her embrace, burying her nose in your hair. You hugged her back, drowning in her scent and warmth. “You are deserving of all the things you want, so don’t run away — if you run, we’d follow you, idiot girl.”
Then, Lily captured your lips with her own.
She tasted like happy endings.
note: 4k words and 6 hours later, here we are! let it be known i was THE poly marauders enthusiast years ago. i always wanted one with lily in the polycule so here we are. this is me manifesting my college romance, y'all. look away. anyways, i hoped u enjoyed it!! brought a smile to your face and all!! might make a part two for more fluff and to establish more relationship dynamics since this was written on a whim ;D also i planned a cute scene with peter as well, so i'll just write that in part two el em ay yo.
#james potter x reader#sirius black x reader#remus lupin x reader#lily evans x reader#poly!marauders x reader#marauders x reader#poly!marauders fluff#hp imagine#hp x reader#reader insert#marauders imagine#hp fluff#hp angst#marauders fluff#marauders angst
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Tell me you love me
Pairing: f!reader x Sukuna Ryomen.
Word count: 2512.
Warnings: ANGSTTTTTT. An attempt at it at least lmao, let me know if I did a good job with it. A bit suggestive in the middle. Cursing. Mentions of cheating (mentions!!! No cheating in this house).
People often say that Sukuna would be obsessed with the reader/oc, but I think a relationship with him would be the hardest thing ever.
He doesn’t get the concept of being in love: at the start of your relationship he found out you were more tolerable than anyone else, he assumed that meant he liked being around you and went along with it. Of course he fell in love in the long run, but for him it’s embarrassing to admit it. He barely even said it when you asked him why he wanted you to move in with him.
It’s not like he isn’t obsessed with you: he’s obsessed with the way you just seem to get him, with the way you smile when he comes home from a long day at work, with the utmost kindness you treat people around you with and that he lacks completely. He’s mesmerised by you, by the curve of your hips, the brightness of your eyes, the softness of your hands on his body.
He doesn’t show it, though.
He’s used to being rough and redeems emotions as futile. Like he already said to you in a couple of your arguments, if you get him you get him, if not, he’s not explaining himself. Everything he does is thought of and automatically right, so why would he give you explanations?
But sometimes in relationships you need communication. He doesn’t see how intense it is to be next to someone who acts like he doesn’t care about what you want to share in your daily life. And again, he does care: if he could, he’d make a copy of you yapping and just listen to it on repeat while working. He loves how passionate you sound while talking about your hobbies, he finds the little tilt to your voice when you search for his approval adorable. He doesn’t see how difficult it is to be with him because he’s only been with you, and you’re so good at communicating and making him feel heard he doesn’t notice he’s not reciprocating your efforts.
And that means that he’s never the one who wants to resolve misunderstandings, because he thinks they don’t really exist. You were upset about your dish not coming out the way it was supposed to and instead of reassuring you it was still edible he straight up said it looked horrible and walked away? He’s not sorry. He spoke his mind, did he not? And why would you be sad about the truth?
You’re not weak, and you’re not shy either. Kind people are not necessarily stupid, and you’re living proof of that. He’d never be in a relationship with a weakling who doesn’t know how to raise her voice and stand her ground. You’re fierce in your own way, and you know how to manage his stubbornness 90% of the time. You don’t like being disrespected or ignored, and you made sure to talk his ear off whenever he did it. Not like he purposefully did it, anyway.
But as a person who understands emotions and feels emotions, sometimes being with him frustrates you. And it comes to a point where you debate on keeping being next to him or leaving him for good.
He’s not the only one who has hard days, but when both of you have one, the silence inside your house is deafening. You’re the one who usually starts up conversations, but your mind is occupied with other things. You’ve barely touched your food.
“What’s got your panties in a twist?” He scoffs at dinner. He doesn’t like you frowning, it wrecks his heart. It makes him want to destroy the face of whoever took the smile he lives for off your face.
You sigh. “You know how my parents said they were coming to visit us next month? Well-”
He’s silent. Fuck, when did she say this? He thinks. Probably one of those days where the thought of your thighs suffocating him all night plagued his mind last week. Fuck, he’d take a bite of them right now if you let him. Maybe he could suggest it. It could take his mind off of his own shitty day.
“Are you even listening to me?” You say sternly. He notices you kept on talking while his mind wandered, but he disregards it.
“Wanna fuck?” He asks instead.
You’re baffled. “Sukuna, what the fuck?”
“Damn, you could’ve just said no, brat,” he says rolling his eyes.
You get offended. “Don’t fucking ask me what’s wrong if you’re not going to listen to me.”
“Yeah yeah, you were probably going to talk about how worried you are and shit. I don’t care about that. If you don’t want to get my dick wet I’m going to rub one out,” he says waving his hand in front of your face and standing up from his chair.
You huff out a sarcastic laugh. “Are you serious?”
“Would you prefer me to find someone else to do it for me?” He bites, snapping his head toward you.
He sees you widening your eyes. If there’s a thing you don’t tolerate is cheating, or jokes about it. He knows it. He knows it, dammit. You’re fuming.
“You’re an asshole. Fuck you. I’m sleeping at Nobara’s,” you spit at him, grabbing the purse you left on the side of the table and rushing out the door, slamming it.
When he’s left alone in your shared living room, he keeps on looking at your front door. The silence is making his head hurt, the only thing he’s hearing is the sound of the door slamming. Did he overstep? Nah, you were probably overreacting. He shrugs and finally moves from his spot, going to put his dish in the sink. He leaves yours on the table, because maybe you’ll be hungry when you come home. You usually are after an argument. You’ll come back after a couple of hours saying you didn’t want to worry him too much, you’ll sigh saying this can’t keep on happening and that you’re tired of arguing, then he’ll hug you and everything will be alright. Just like it always is. You’ve never left like this, though.
He ruffles his hair; he’s angry at everything and everyone. You should’ve got that he’s the one overreacting, why didn’t you get him like usual? Why aren’t you still back after 3 hours? He hates feeling angry. He hates feeling tired. He hates feeling in general. Most importantly, he hates that the hands in his hair are his and not yours. He hates the way right now he’s craving your soft voice reassuring him in his ear, your sweet words covering him like a blanket; his head on your chest listening to your heartbeat while lying on your couch, reminding you that you’re there. You’ve always been there. There’s no one else for him, there’s never going to be one. He’d never cheat, you’re so stupid for getting angry about it. Why did you get so mad about it? Suddenly, he’s thinking about random stuff you said that he ingrained in his head.
I love you too, Sukuna. I’ll wait for you to tell me that without me forcing it out, mh? I’ll move in with you, sure, if you ask me so that nicely.
You picked this book because it reminded you of me? Thank you, baby. I love it. Both the book and the fact you thought of me.
Can you stop messing up my sock drawer? No, I did not hide your cigarettes there. But please stop smoking, I love when you taste like my lip gloss and not that disgusting shit you inhale. Give me a kiss so I can prove it to you. I’ll take your breath away way better than tobacco.
He smirks while on the couch, alone. You’re so cute. He wants to bottle up your laugh. Why aren’t you back still? His mind doesn’t stop, though.
You hurt me, Sukuna. Why can’t you notice?
I feel like you don’t care about me.
If I hadn't come to you, would you have come to me? Or would you just have ignored this whole argument and acted like nothing happened?
Am I just filling up a random space you leave open for a significant other or am I the significant other that’s capable of filling that void?
That night he dreams of you. The way you glared at him asking him if he was serious, almost like a warning before you lashed out. He dreams of the hurt that flashed in your eyes when he spewed nonsense. And when he wakes up, you’re still not back. Your unfinished plate is still on the kitchen table.
But he’s prideful, that’s why you’re the one that’s always trying to resolve arguments. Yes, you’ll come back. He’s sure of it. You always came back during the 3 years you've been together.
A week passes by and he's going crazy. You haven't contacted him at all, and he didn't text first. He lies to himself saying it's because he's leaving you some space, but the truth is that he's scared. What is he even supposed to say? Hey, I'm sorry, I miss you, please come home? That's pathetic. He's taking a shower when suddenly his phone rings. His heart skips a beat and he rushes out to check if it's you. Please, let it be you.
Instead it's Yuji, his brother.
Yuji: Hey, what happened with y/n? She asked me to come get some of her things for her. Is she sick?
Sukuna frowns. Then he realizes that- you're going to move out. You're going to break up with him.
He goes into panic mode. He never thought about the possibility of you leaving him. He thought you would come back, like you always do. Why would you leave him? Is it because you finally realized that you're better off with someone who knows how to express their feelings for you? Did you get tired of him? Have you already found someone else?
He finds himself knocking on Nobara's door in the next ten minutes. He ran, he's sweating and it's starting to rain. He's out of breath, and he gets his hands on his knees while he waits for you to open the door. He's not ready to let you go. He can't even fathom a life where he doesn't wake up to you trying to get warm between his arms, without you nagging him while watching a film together, without helping you bake cookies while laughing with each other. Without not being able to talk from how in love he is while looking into your eyes. And he knows that if you leave him he's never going to be able to live in his own house ever again, or walk down the street you always do together, or go grocery shopping and not thinking about you while looking at vegetables. You always said you liked vegetables and he always lied about liking them just to see you excited about cooking them together.
"Yuji, I didn't think you'd be this fas- oh," you open the door and your face falls when you see it's Sukuna. He snaps his gaze toward your face when he hears your voice. He missed it so much. You're so beautiful. He missed all of you. So much.
Neither of you move, you just keep staring at each other. This time, he knows he's going to have to talk first. For the first time, he realizes how hard it actually is to confront someone first. Do you feel like this every time?
"Come home," he says. "Please," he adds.
You look sad. "I don't think I'm going to, Sukuna. It's been more than a week and you didn't even reach out to say... I don't even know what. I know you don't say sorry. You never do."
Your words feel like knives. From where you're standing you're taller than him, and he has to look up to look at you. It's like he's in front of the pearly gates of heaven and an angel is making him confess all the wrong things he did, except in this scenario you're the angel and the things he did are just what he thinks about all of this. About you in general.
And you're right, he doesn't usually say sorry. The words get stuck in his throat and he just gapes up at you, still catching his breath. Pathetic.
You sigh, then go to close the door. You don't look at him anymore and he feels like he can't breathe, and not because of the run.
"I'll come get my things next week. Go home, you'll get wet," you say. And your voice is clear, you're not mumbling, you must have thought about this. He sees how hard you're clenching your jaw to appear resolute, your nails hurting your palms from how hard you're closing your hands. But you still manage to worry about him, worry about him possibly catching a cold from the rain. And he loves you. Fuck, he loves you so much.
"Wait," he manages to say. You look at him with longing. With sorrow.
And he feels like he's crying to the angel in his afterlife when he opens his mouth again, thorns in his throat getting tighter, suffocating him. But he doesn't cry here, in front of you, even if maybe you'd like it. You'd probably say that you appreciate him showing emotions, maybe tease him for it, but you'd like it. He'd kiss you while you're still laughing, saying you're stupid, and you'd continue laughing.
"I love you," he rasps out. The words feel so unfamiliar to his tongue, but so familiar to his ears. You always tell him you love him. "I'm sorry for being a shithead. Please don't leave me. I promise you I'll get better at this communication shit," he begs.
You still don't move, but he sees you getting softer.
"Go home, Sukuna. We'll talk about it when it's not raining," you utter.
"No, I don't fucking want to," he snaps. You're startled, and he cringes. He's really not used to all of this. He doesn't like scaring you.
"Fuck, I meant to say I want to get over it right now. I didn't want to scare you. I want you back, Y/N. Please, have me back. I'll get better for real," he says while getting progressively closer to you.
"You promise?" You ask, now shorter than him. You're a step of distance from each other.
"I promise, baby. I'll make you the happiest girl to ever exist," he tells you, looking at you intensely.
"Start by saying you love me again," you mumble, wrapping your arms around his waist and resting your head on his chest. He engulfs you in his own arms, inhaling the smell of your shampoo, then snorts.
"Sure. I'm in love with you, brat."
Being in a relationship with Sukuna is hard, but he loves you easily.
#sukuna jjk#sukuna ryomen#sukuna x reader#sukuna angst#sukuna x y/n#sukuna fic#jjk angst#jjk fluff#sukuna fluff#sukuna x you
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