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luci-in-trenchcoats · 3 years

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If I Fell For You (Part 8) - Good Days, Bad Days

Summary: The reader has a special birthday surprise for Jensen and starts to get to know Jared more. When Jensen returns home from Toronto for good though, he and the reader have their first big fight and make more moves in their relationship...

Masterlist

Pairing: Jensen x nanny!reader

Word Count: 5,300ish

Warnings: language, angst, fighting, smut

A/N: Enjoy!

________

Thursday Night

“So how do you want me?” asked Jensen, leaning against his closet door in nothing but his boxer briefs.

“Oh well that’s a dangerous question,” you laughed. “Jeans are fine for where I’m taking you.”

“Alright,” he said. He ducked into the closet and returned wearing only a pair of dark jeans, smirking at you with his hands behind his back.

“Being a little shit?” you asked.

“One of my best qualities,” he said. You hummed and went past him into the closet. “So what should I be wearing on this date out?”

“I’m kinda a sucker for you a henley and flannel. Not to let that go to your head at all,” you said.

“Oh you should never watch Supernatural then,” he chuckled, grabbing a long sleeve white henley off the hanger and pulling it on.

“I did sort of start watching it,” you said. “You look like a little baby that hadn’t hit puberty yet.”

“I got better with age, sweetheart,” he said, flashing you a wink.

“Oh yes you did,” you said. “I like it. It’s kinda scary but not too bad if you watch during the day.”

“It gets less scary pretty fast,” he said, putting on his red and gray flannel. “I all set?”

“You look very pretty,” you said, walking out with him on your tail. “So does the show end happy? Like they live? It’s got this angsty feel to it where I feel like something bad is gonna happen.”

“Do you want me to spoil it?”

“Dean doesn’t like die, right,” you said. He made a face and you frowned. “No. Why? He doesn’t deserve that.”

“Eh, calm yourself woman. Things could happen in the future...he might not have to die...or he might come back and I really shouldn’t be discussing these things.”

“You’d do more?” you asked.

“Oh for sure. On a streaming network where we get to do all the shit we couldn’t on cable. Get some fresh eyes in on the writing or maybe we’d even take a crack at it. It’s not really an if, more of a when so don’t go worrying about Dean. I like my new friends at work and everybody’s great but I miss Jared and my old ones. I’m definitely working with them again.”

“That’s great! Now come on, move that tush. We have reservations.”

“Reservations. Fancy,” he said. He put on a pair of socks and shoved his wallet in his pocket, following you out to the hall when you spun around.

“Oh yeah,” you smirked. “You may also have a little birthday surprise waiting for your downstairs so eyes shut mister.”

“You’re devious. I like that. I like that a lot. We should explore that later in bed.”

“Tempting. I’ll have to take you up on that,” you said. “Eyes shut.”

You held his hand and he shut his eyes, going down the hall with you. You went slowly down the steps, Jensen’s arm around you the whole time. You grinned and walked him over to the family room before leaving him in place.

“Open,” you said. He blinked open his eyes, quickly landing them on a grinning Jared standing there.

“How the hell are you here?” said Jensen, Jared giving him a big hug he quickly returned. “Shit I missed you man.”

“Me too. But it’s someone’s birthday this week and I don’t have work tomorrow so I caught a flight up this afternoon. Y/N thought I’d make a good present.”

“Fucking awesome present,” he said, still grinning ear to ear.

“You doing okay?” asked Jared, Jensen nodding. He gave him another hug and you smiled. “So how’s that crush on the nanny working out?”

“Shut up,” said Jensen, smirking as he pulled you into his side. “Jared. I know you guys met already but Y/N is your soon to be best friend just as an fyi.”

“Oh we’ve already started chatting,” you said, Jared chuckling. “He’s really sweet. I had to legit stop him from jumping on a plane that second when I texted him he thought something was wrong.”

“I think between the two of us we can keep an eye on him,” said Jared. “So you mind if I crash your date?”

“Not at all,” you said. “I’m taking both you boys out. My treat.”

“I’ll be back in a minute,” said Jensen two hours later while he excused himself to the bathroom. Jared finished off the last of his beer and smiled as he leaned back in his corner of the booth.

“You know I’m totally covering this right,” he said.

“Dutch?” you asked.

“I’ll take the alcohol, you take the food.”

“That I can agree to,” you said, glancing over the dessert menu. “I’m really happy you were able to come up to hang out. I know you got your own family and everything and this was last minute.”

“He’s my family too,” he said. “I’d do anything for him. Literally. Don’t ever hesitate to call me, no matter when or where. I’ll be there for him like he’s always been for me.”

“I’m not sure I’ve ever seen a smile on his face like that before.”

“I have. You just didn’t notice that night at the bonfire.” You shrugged and he cocked his head. “How long you two been dating?”

“A month or so,” you said.

“You like him?”

“He’s alright,” you said, smiling before you took a sip from your glass.

“Thanks for taking care of him lately.”

“Don’t need to thank me for that,” you said, sliding the dessert menu over to him.

“Yeah but I’m still going to,” he said. “I meant what I said earlier. Between the two of us he’ll be okay again.”

“He’s never gonna be the same. He’ll be happy and it won’t hurt as much. But it’ll come back and hit him time to time.”

“There’s a reason he’s my best friend and it’s not just because we worked together for so long. He’s always been there for me and I’ll be there for him. I feel better about him being up here when he’s got someone else watching his back.”

“You had the hard job, not me,” you said.

“He’s come a long way. Doesn’t mean this is a cakewalk though I’m sure.”

“No, you’re right about that,” you said as you spotted Jensen returning.

“You guys order dessert yet?” he asked, sliding in beside you.

“Why doesn’t the birthday boy pick,” teased Jared, handing the menu over to him. “You guys ought to come home for a weekend when you get a chance.”

“It’s kinda a long way to go with the kids for just a few days,” said Jensen. “But we’ll be home soon. Hopefully.”

“I can get you a gig on Walker anytime you want it dude, just ask.”

“Maybe. I kinda want to get with the guys and maybe work on that Supernatural stuff. I need good stuff to look forward to, you know?”

“I do,” said Jared. “As long as you come home eventually I’ll learn to live with just using your jet skis in the meantime.”

“See what I’ve been dealing with for over a decade?” asked Jensen.

“Oh yes. He’s horrible,” you teased. “We really shouldn’t have him sleepover then, should we?”

“You’re staying at the house?” asked Jensen with a grin.

“Duh. I didn’t just fly a thousand miles to not see you dude. I’m here all weekend. Let’s have some fun.”

“Boys I’m heading to bed,” you said around two in the morning.

“Yeah we ought to go to bed ourselves,” said Jared.

“I’ll grab you some sheets and stuff,” said Jensen. You waved goodnight to Jared, heading down the hall towards your room when Jensen wrapped an arm around your waist. “I thought you were gonna sleep with me from now on.”

“I am. Want to check something real quick.”

“Hurry back,” he said. He kissed your temple and ducked into his room, leaving you in the hall. You went down to your own and checked your email, smirking when you saw what you were looking for. A rattling of fingers on the door made you glance up, Jensen smiling there. “Texting your other boyfriend?”

“No, I sort of...submitted one of my stories to a publisher. They’ve been talking to me this week and said they’d get back to me today on if they wanted to move forward. They want to do a five book deal. I already have the stories done and mostly drawn anyways. They gave me an offer just now.”

“That’s awesome,” he said. “Seriously. We’re gonna celebrate tomorrow for sure.”

“It’s no big deal,” you said.

“It really is,” he said. He picked you up and grinned, carrying you back to his room. “I’m proud of you.”

“They’re stupid stories,” you said.

“I love those stupid stories,” he said, setting you on the bed. “The kids do too.”

“You’re just saying that cause you’re supposed to say that.” You set your phone on the nightstand and crawled under the covers, Jensen pulling you into his chest when het got underneath.

“My children think their mom is really okay now. They don’t get sad anymore and they ask questions about her again and I don’t want to cry every time I talk about her because your story reminded me that the wolf dad can be happy again for him too. That’s really fucking important to me right now in life.”

“Okay Papa Wolf,” you said. You grinned and he returned it. “Night Jensen.”

“Goodnight sweetheart.”

Two Months Later

“Hey Jared,” you said as you answered your phone. “What’s up?”

“Jensen at work?”

“Yeah. Late night again,” you said. “He’s answering texts between breaks I think.”

“Cool,” he said.

“You need something?” you asked.

“No, no. I’m good,” he said. “Thanks. I’ll catch you later.”

“You doing okay?” you asked.

“Yeah. Just want to talk to him for a minute,” he said. He was a little quiet and you sat down on the couch.

“You want to talk to me?” you asked.

“That’s okay.”

“Jared...Jensen and I are starting to get serious which means we’re gonna be together a lot considering how you two can’t go more than a day without talking. We can be good friends too,” you said. He was quiet and you hoped you hadn’t sounded too corny.

“I uh, I have bad days sometimes. Really normal days can be bad days in my head. It’s kinda how I was built I guess,” he said.

“Nothing wrong with that,” you said. “Today a bad day?”

“Kinda. Nothing happened. I had a normal day at work and home. I’m just off. He um...Jensen makes me feel better as lame as that sounds. Just talking for a few minutes helps my head get on track that somebody really does care.”

“He’s very good like that,” you said. “I know you mean the world to him. You’re his brother. It’s not lame that he makes you feel better. You make him feel better too. I owe you a lot for taking care of him after the accident.”

“I much prefer when I’m the one freaking out and he takes care of me,” chuckled Jared. “You guys coming home soon?”

“He’s got a few weeks left of filming but I might head down a little earlier, try to get the house sorted out down there with the kids and stuff,” you said. “He’s literally counting down the days.”

“He really likes working on the show though I thought.”

“Oh he does but he’s got a big circle on the calendar for the fifthteenth called Jared day. I think your boy is planning something fun.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” he said. “You mind if I ask a personal question?”

“Shoot, buddy,” you said, stretching in your seat.

“Do you love him?” he asked.

“Going full throttle out of the gate I see,” you said.

“I know. I know how he talks about you though. There’s no...casual relationship with him.”

“Well I haven’t said it to him yet and he hasn’t said it to me so...maybe another time I’ll be able to answer that question.”

“It’s been almost four months. You get to spend more time together than most couples starting out. I’d think you know by now,” he said.

“I do. But he deserves to hear it before anyone else,” you said.

“So you love him.”

“Most things I love have a habit of going away,” you said.

“He won’t,” he said. “You do more than make him happy, Y/N. A lot more.”

“I just wish he didn’t hurt.”

“He hurts a lot less lately. Some of that’s time and some of it’s you. Enjoy being one of his best friends. He doesn’t let that many people in that close.”

“I know. We were supposed to be talking about you I thought.”

“Eh, sometimes I just need the talk. Thanks. I got somebody else I can call now too.”

“It’s never a problem,” you said.

“It’s getting late there. I’ll let you go. Thanks for talking, really. I feel better.”

“Anytime Jared.”

“You too, Y/N.”

Three Weeks Later

“Doug you’re a lifesaver,” you said as finished washing Jensen’s truck in the driveway back home in Austin. He smiled as he wiped off his hands and gave Arrow a wave goodbye.

“I owed you for that 3am incident,” he said. “You got easy kids. Mine are vultures.”

“Yes, yes they are,” you laughed. He gave you a kiss on the check and smiled as he headed back for his car, another one coming down the open driveway. “Later Doug.”

“Later,” he said. Jensen exited the back of the car along with his backpack and a suitcase, the car pulling out, Doug following after.

“Hey. How was the flight?” you asked.

“Who was that?” he asked, dropping his bags on the pavement.

“Oh that’s just Doug. He’s a nanny. I needed an extra set of hands today watching the kids trying to finish up these chores before you got home and it was perfect timing,” you said. You smirked and walked over to kiss him, Jensen taking a step back. “Something wrong?”

“You kissed him.”

“No. I didn’t. He kissed my cheek,” you said. Jensen narrowed his eyes and you scoffed, wiping the sweat off your forehead. “Seriously? He’s my friend.”

“That kisses you.”

“He’s affectionate,” you said. “Also he’s kinda married so you can tone it down with the judgemental looks.”

“Oh. I’m sorry. You’re right. You should be able to kiss whoever you want despite being in a relationship,” he said. He grabbed his bags and brushed past you inside. You grumbled and went after him, finding him upstairs in his room. “What?”

“What stick is up your ass today? I haven’t seen you in almost three weeks. None of us have and you’re in a bad mood.”

“I was perfectly happy until I saw you kissing somebody else.”

“I wasn’t kissing him!”

“It didn’t look like that from my perspective.”

“Jensen.”

“Is this just a little game to you? You get bored of the older guy with kids finally?” he asked, crossing his arms. “Or maybe you just got caught finally.”

��I don’t cheat,” you said, getting in his face. “He kissed my cheek. I’ll call him to come back and explain this situation right now but I apparently you just think I’m a cheater.”

“Well maybe you are. Geez, we’ve been together over four months and no real sex yet? Cause that’s not sending red flags.”

“Because you weren’t fucking ready!” you shouted. “I’m not your wife and I’m never gonna be her. Don’t be mad at me for it.”

“No that’s for sure,” he said.

“The kids are in the front yard. Don’t expect me back today,” you said. You stormed downstairs and into your room, shoving some things in a bag before taking your purse and getting behind the wheel of your car.

You were seeing red by the time you were out of the suburbs. You slammed your hand against the wheel and shouted.

“You fucking asshole,” you said. You sniffled and drove for a bit before finally pulling off. You drove down a long road, rolling your eyes when of course you passed by his brewery. You’d never been but he’d told you about it more than once. You kept going down the road, eventually finding a park to pull into. You shut off the car and shut your eyes, a knock on the window making you jump. You put down your window when you saw a cop there and did your best to wipe off your face.

“You’re double parked,” he said.

“What?”

“You’re parked on the line,” he said.

“Sorry,” you said.

“Bad day?” he asked.

“Something like that,” you said. You could feel snot threatening to drip down your nose, the officer reaching into a pocket and handing you a tissue. “Thanks.”

“Best not to drive when you’re upset,” he said.

“Yeah. I’m just gonna sit here for a little while,” you said with a nod.

“Probably not a great idea to sit in a car next a playground,” he said. “The mom’s are kinda intense around here.”

“Of course they are,” you said, squeezing your eyes shut.

“Why don’t you move your car and you can join me on my patrol,” he said. “It’s only a short walk. Fresh air might do you good.”

“Last time I talked to another man my boyfriend sorta freaked out on me so maybe not a good idea,” you said. You blew your nose and realized what you’d said, the officer staring down. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Why don’t we take that walk so I can find out what you did mean.”

Two minutes later you were walking next to the cop. He had a baseball cap on and was in all black. You weren’t sure how he wasn’t boiling considering it was May in Austin.

“This boyfriend got a name?”

“You gonna run his name or something?” you asked.

“Do I need to?” he asked. You shook your head and he smiled. “He the jealous type? He get angry over you talking to other men?”

“It’s complicated.”

“If it doesn’t get uncomplicated I might have to pay this boyfriend a visit you understand.”

“His wife died last June.”

“Okay. I understand part of the complicated thing now.”

“Why’s he gotta be a dick? Called me a cheater,” you said. You crossed your arms and the cop chuckled. “Sorry.”

“As long as you don’t call me a dick we don’t got a problem. Did you cheat on him?”

“No. He...he works away and he just got home today and my guy friend was over helping me with watching my boyfriends kids while I did some chores and my guy friend is like, a really affectionate guy and he kissed my cheek as my boyfriend was coming in and my boyfriend thinks I was kissing him back and been cheating on him for the past three weeks.”

“Why don’t you just call the guy friend over to explain?”

“He got so pissed so fast and accused me of cheating. I’ve been dating him for nearly five months and he brings up the fact we haven’t had sex yet like that even matters when I’ve been holding back for him and he just blows up on me for fucking nothing,” you said.

“You’re both stubborn people, aren’t ya,” he said.

“Maybe,” you grumbled.

“Maybe this guy is scared and looking for a way out of the relationship. Or maybe he thinks you want out. You mentioned kids. That’s not easy.”

“He’s also...older. There’s an age gap. I was the nanny and now I’m the girlfriend nanny. He’s also kinda...famous,” you said.

“So there’s a lot of stress in this relationship then.”

“No,” you said, dropping your arms to your sides. “It’s not like that.”

“Maybe the dumb bastard just got scared of losing someone again,” he said. “Just a theory.”

“I wish he wasn’t scared,” you said. “I don’t know how to make him not afraid.”

“You ever think maybe he said that because you’re getting in there pretty good now and he’s getting real scared that losing you might hurt just as bad as this wife did.”

“He’s an idiot. But he’s my idiot,” you said.

“Talk to him. Get an apology and try to forgive him.”

“I already forgive him. I know him. He was scared and I got mad instead of realizing after so many weeks apart all he needed was a freaking hug.”

“Then go home and give him a hug,” he said.

“Thanks,” you said with a nod. “I must have looked like a hot mess or something.”

“Oh for sure,” he chuckled. You smiled and he laughed. “That looks better.”

“Jensen probably left like five messages on my phone by now,” you said. The cop you were with paused and smiled. “What?”

“A kinda famous Jensen. There’s really only one of those in town,” he said.

“Oh. Yeah. Please don’t share that he’s dating. He really wants to keep things private for a lot of reasons right now,” you said.

“He’s my buddy.”

“Your buddy?”

“We went to school together,” he said. “In tenth grade he went for a slide on second base, ripped his pants right down the middle. His hanes bright blue covered ass still managed to get around to home base.”

“He split his pants in a baseball game?” you smiled.

“I know quite a few of his dirty secrets,” he said. “I don’t really know that whole acting thing but him I know and that must make you Y/N. You ever in trouble kid, ever just got a bad feeling and want a cop to come by, give me a call.”

“Thanks,” you said as you took his card. “You really think he’s a dumb bastard?”

“Oh knowing it’s him, 100%. Give him a break. We like him when he smiles,” he said.

“I’m gonna give him a call,” you said. “We should hang out sometime now that Jensen has a break.”

“Definitely. I gotta finish my patrol,” he said. “Take care Y/N.”

“Bye,” you said as you headed back towards your car. You pulled out your phone and saw seven missed calls and twelve unread texts. You tapped the screen and put the phone up to your ear, only ringing for a second.

“I’m sorry,” said Jensen.

“Me too.”

“I’m the one that...shit I’m so sorry, Y/N. I don’t know what happened.”

“You missed me and you were scared and seeing Doug probably hurt like a bitch,” you said.

“I’m so sorry. I don’t want to be the stupid jealous boyfriend.”

“I’m not too far from your brewery if you want to meet there. Get a beer. Blow this over,” you said.

“I’m sorry.”

“I forgive you. Stop apologizing. I want to give you a hug,” you said.

“I’ll meet you there in thirty minutes?” he asked.

“I’ll see you soon honey.”

“Hi,” said Jensen as you sat at a quiet table in the back, sipping on a beer and eating a piece of pizza. You smiled and stood up, giving him a hug. He tucked his head down and sighed. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey we survived our first big fight as a couple,” you said. “That deserves beer and pizza.”

He sat down next to you, forcing a smile on his face. You reached over and cupped his cheek, Jensen turning into it.

“Please forgive yourself,” you said.

“I don’t really want to,” he said.

“You called me a cheater. I get what I want today and that’s for you to forgive yourself.”

“I don’t know why I said that.”

“Jensen,” you said, stroking his cheek. “I love you.”

He stared at you, a different look in his eyes, the tiniest sliver of a smile peeking through. You inched closer and slid your hand around to the back of his neck, pulling him into a kiss. He felt softer than usual, lips barely moving against yours.

“I love you,” he said. He wrapped his arms around you and grinned. “I have loved you for a very long time.” You kissed him again, Jensen returning it.

He left his arm around your back, smirking when you did the same to him.

“Can we forget about earlier?” you asked. He nodded and rested his head on your shoulder.

“One last I’m sorry though,” he said.

“Just don’t call me that again and we’re all good, Jens,” you said. “Now eat some of this pizza so I don’t feel like a glutton.”

“I don’t have to slip into a superhero costume any more so dad bod here I come,” he chuckled.

“Does that mean Solider Boy meets some untimely end?”

“No spoilers,” he said. “But I don’t think I’ll be going back to that show. At least as often. I know I want to direct an episode of walker in the fall. I talked to Jared about it actually so that’ll be fun. I might do a duck and run guest appearance on it. I’ll line up something for next year but I want to be home for awhile, do work around here.”

“I know quite a few people who would be more than okay with that,” you said.

“Don’t make any plans for Saturday,” he smirked.

“I thought you were having your Jared day tomorrow.”

“Oh we are. Gen invited you and the kids over. She’d like to get to know you. You’ll love her,” he said.

“So what’s Saturday then?” you asked.

“I’d like to take you and the kids out on the boat. We haven’t been since before the accident. Maybe we can go out for dinner and put up the tent in the backyard, have a sleepover out there with the kids.”

“That sounds fun.”

“And...I’d like to maybe next week take you out for the day, just us, maybe...spend the night somewhere,” he said.

“Like a hotel?” you asked.

“Yeah. Or the kids can have a sleepover at Jared’s. Maybe.” He glanced down and you moved your arm from his back, reaching behind yourself to hold his hand. Green eyes flickered over to yours and you smiled. “I’m-”

“You know if you keep apologizing about earlier I’m not going to have sex with you,” you said. “That’s just facts.”

“Okay,” he chuckled. “No more apologies. Aside from...I really am sorry about what I said. I’m the one that’s been holding back and not once have you asked for more.”

“We said we’d take it slow and that’s okay,” you said. He squeezed your hand and nodded. “I don’t like you because you’re attractive or your hair is great or your arms are massive. Having fun with you is fun but that’s not why I’m here.”

“I don’t know if I can give you things you want,” he said.

“Just give me you and that’s good with me,” you said.

“Okay,” he said quietly. You scooted closer to him, Jensen tucking a stray hair behind your ear. “Let’s do it now.”

“Uh, what?” you said, taking a sip from your beer.

“The kids aren’t home and I don’t want to wait and-”

“You don’t have to ask me twice,” you said, knocking back your beer and flipping the cardboard down over your pizza. He stared and you burped, picking up the box. “There’s like six slices left and this is too good to waste, even for sex.”

“You have literally never been more attractive than in this moment,” he said.

“I could be.”

“I’ll see you at the house in twenty?”

“Yes you will Ackles.”

Forty minutes later you hand was slapping against his headboard, legs squeezed so tight around his waist you were shocked he wasn’t complaining. You moaned loudly as he teased your clit and he delivered one more hard thrust. He grunted as you gripped his shoulder with your other hand.

“Jensen,” you breathed out. “I’m right there. Please, please, please…”

You arched your back when he thrust hard, fingers rubbing just a bit rougher and you came all around him, every muscle tensed and riding out that high, long, deep, absolutely perfect orgasm. Jensen thrust a few more times before he groaned and rested his head on your shoulder, big panting breaths fanning over your skin.

He was sweaty but pulled out slowly, plopping down on the bed beside you, hand resting on his chest.

“I don’t know about you but that was good,” he said. “Damn good.”

You giggled between breaths, nodding your head slightly. You tilted it over towards his, Jensen already staring at you with soft hooded green eyes.

“Definitely damn good,” you breathed. His lips tugged up into a smile, warm and gentle, his head inching closer to you. You sat up and leaned down to kiss him, Jensen breaking off when he needed air. You trailed a finger down his chest before climbing out of bed and excusing yourself to the bathroom. After you cleaned up you found Jensen chucking the condom in the trash and wiping himself off quickly.

“Come here you,” he said. He picked you up bridal style and carried you back to the bed, laying you down carefully. “I’m big on after sex cuddling just so you know.”

“I find that to be a very attractive quality,” you said as he lay down. He reached down to the end of the bed and grabbed the bunched up blanket, pulling it over the two of you. His arm slid under your head and he pulled you into his side, encouraging you to use him as a pillow. “You’re warm.”

“So are you,” he said. He kissed your temple and let out a deep breath. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“I never thought I’d be able to do that ever again. Let alone not feel bad about doing it,” he said.

“You okay?”

“I’m great,” he said. “Really. I know Dee would have been telling me to not worry so I didn’t. I don’t...I feel like I can talk about her again, you know?”

“You used to call her your wife a lot. Recently you’ve been saying her name more. I think you really are healing, Jensen.”

“I knew the second you left earlier I messed up. I dropped the kids off at Jared’s and then I wound up at the cemetery. I saw these purple flowers there. It’s kinda a different flower but they were her favorite. I’ve only ever told one other person those were her favorites,” he said. You traced your finger over his pec and rested your palm flat on his chest. “Why’d you put flowers there?”

“Why wouldn’t I Jensen?”

“That’s how I knew I can stop being so scared when it comes to you. Purple fucking flowers. You’re just…”

“I love you too,” you said, giving his whole body a squeeze. He returned it, holding you for a long time, neither one of you saying a word. It wasn’t until you noticed the light starting to change in the room that you both moved.

“Y/N,” said Jensen when you sat upright. You looked over your shoulder, a smile on his face. “Do you want to stay upstairs with me from now on instead of your room? It’s okay if-”

“I’d love to,” you said. “To be honest, I slept up here the other night.”

“You did?” he asked as you nodded.

“I missed you.”

“Me too,” he said.

“I know three little faces that really missed you too,” you said. He smiled and nodded. “Let’s go get the rascals.”

______

A/N: Read Part 9 here!

#supernatural #spn #jensen ackles au #Jensen x reader #Jensen Ackles #rpf #Jensen series #rpf series #jensen ackles x reader #spn fanfic #Jensen Ackles fanfic #supernatural fanfic

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disenchantedif · 3 years

Note

Hello dear author! If u still take prompts, can we get 49 from angst with Luci? (If it's not troubling, specifically with MC who is on a sad/self-destructive side)

"I wish we never met." for Luci.

Self-destructive MC and M!Luci.

Trigger Warning: Discussion of potential self-harm, suicidal ideation, and depression. You can keep reading under the cut.

"Why are you here?" You say, already pushing the door closed.

Lucien grabs it quickly, stopping you from closing it in his face, "Because I was worried."

"About who? Me?" You laugh, but it comes off more bitter than humorous, "Good joke."

"It's not a joke." He says earnestly, "I saw what happened in the cafeteria."

You bite your cheek so hard it bleeds. Forcing a smile isn't too hard; you've been doing it since you were sixteen.

"Well, I'm fine." You say, "You can leave. Now."

He seems unconvinced, dark eyes scanning your face as if to look for cracks in your mask. He must've found many.

"Please." He says quietly, "Let me in."

His words are gentle now but you're well aware of how cruel they can be. Still, you step back. You're unsure what possesses you to do so; maybe you just like the pain.

He seems just as surprised as you are, but takes the opening while it's available.

"Say what you want and then you should go." You turn away from him, heading towards the couch in your dorm's living room, "Theo's class ends at two."

He cringed, glancing at the clock. It's nearly a quarter till. You know he wouldn't want to be here when she gets back; last time they got in an argument, she nearly broke his nose.

"We don't have enough time for me to say all I want to." He purses his lips as he sits beside you, "I just want to know if you're okay?"

You stare at him, slightly stunned. Okay? You haven't been okay in four years.

"That's a really stupid question." He pinches his nose and sighs, "Listen, that was messed up of Bree-"

"Of course you know her." You raise your eyebrows.

"We're not friends." He defends, "We're just in a study group together. It was horrible either way."

"Please don't act like you give a shit about me." You say, avoiding his eyes, "I'm too tired to deal with whatever act this is."

"It's not an act." He insists, "I'm sorry. I...I know that doesn't fix anything but I do care."

"Why?" You ask, "Why do you care? Why can't you just stay out of my life for good? You seemed perfectly happy to before."

"I wasn't though! I know I told you before and it doesn't fix anything but I'm sorry." His voice seems to get thicker like he's speaking around his emotions, "I wasn't happy, watching you shoulder everything. I wanted to be there but I didn't deserve it."

"And you do now?"

He's quiet for a moment, "No...but I want to try anyway."

"What if I don't want you?" The words lack the venom you'd like them to have.

"Then tell me right now and I'll leave." He swears, his lips quivering in a way that told you he feared you might.

You don't.

You press your face into your hands, not willing to look at him, not wanting to see the smug expression he probably had on his face.

"Are you okay?" He repeats lowly, scared to startle you.

Your shoulders shake, and you can't tell if you're crying or laughing. No. Your life went to shit and you've never wanted to die more, but you just keep on living. You're not okay.

"No."

He takes a shallow breath, "Have you-?"

"Fuck, Lucien, if you're about to ask me if I hurt myself-"

"It's important to know-"

"You can't just-just come in here expecting me to open up to you." You finally meet his eyes, "You don't know me anymore. You wouldn't want to know me anymore."

"That's a lie." He says, "I do. Want to know you again."

You sigh, "I just...fuck, I wish we never met."

He flinches back at the words, but you can't see his expression clearly around the tears gathering in your eyes. He reaches a tentative hand out, giving you plenty of time to move.

You don't.

He rests it on your knee, and the touch is enough to have the tears spilling over. He seems to panic but settles on inching closer, hovering with his hand still awkwardly perched on your leg.

You can feel the warmth through your jeans. You missed him. You hated it, but you missed him.

"I won't leave you again." He whispers, his tone practically begging you to listen.

"Even if Theo breaks your leg?" You whisper, miserable around hiccups and smothered cries.

"Even if Theo breaks my leg." He promises, a sad smile turning his lips up.

#disenchantedif #luci rivera #short story #tw depression #tw self harm #tw suicidal ideation

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cinnaminsvga · 3 years

Text

🌷 social media au where y/n posts an advertisement looking for a new place to stay that is closer to campus, causing seven upperclassmen to make it their mission to recruit her into their dormitories 🌷

A/N: THIS TOOK FOREVER AND I KINDA RUSHED IT AT THE END BUT HOPEFULLY IT MAKES SENSE?? anyway, yoongi didn’t do anything stupid (depending on your definition of stupid) so no need to worry about him being cringey,,, i spared you all from the secondhand embarrassment but i won’t be so kind next time!! anyway... enjoy || W.C. 3.8K

prev // part 11 // next masterlist here.

By the time Seokjin’s phone begins to ring, Yoongi can already feel the dread settle deep inside his bones. The familiar coil of anxiety tightens around his throat like a vice, and Yoongi has to remember how to breathe to keep himself from fainting like a corseted Victorian lady.

“Well, that must be her!” Seokjin chimes, promptly declining your call without a glance. Yoongi catches a glimpse of your contact photo anyway: it’s an unflattering angle of you from below your neck, giving the illusion of a multitude of chins. If it were any other time, Yoongi might have smiled like a lovesick fool.

“Don’t you dare let her in here,” Yoongi seethes. He tries to sound menacing, but the effect is severely diminished by how badly his voice cracks. He tugs at Seokjin by the sleeve, but the older man refuses to budge. “Hyung, I’m serious. I know what you’re trying to do.”

“Are you done live-tweeting your confusion now? Finally got the memo? I always knew you were a smart boy,” Seokjin laughs, patting Yoongi on the shoulder with his tomato sauce-covered tongs. “Since we’re on the same page now, why don’t you change clothes while I finish cooking? I know your entire wardrobe is composed of the free t-shirts you got from job fairs, but it would do well to wear a clean, unstained shirt.”

Yoongi swipes at him, hissing like the catboy that he is. “You’re the one who wiped shit on me, asshole. And yes, I figured out what you are trying to do. You think you’re so slick, but I know that you’re just trying to embarrass me in front of Y/N!”

Seokjin shrugs. “It isn’t like I’m trying to be slick. I embarrass you all the time. Besides, I’m setting you up on a date with the love of your life! You should be thanking me, if I’m being honest.”

Yoongi stammers, his jaw dropping in shock. “Love of my–?”

Seokjin waves his tongs in his face, silencing him. “Oh, hush. Don’t even try to hide it, Yoongi. I figured out that you like Y/N. Your weird behavior finally makes sense! After years of you avoiding her, I always thought you were just bad at forming human connections, but turns out you’ve got a gigantic heart boner for my best friend!”

“Please don’t phrase it like that,” Yoongi groans, smashing his head against his kitchen counter. He hopes a few brain cells might have died, just so he can stop processing the words coming out of Seokjin’s mouth. “Actually, just please stop talking.”

Seokjin snorts in exasperation as if Yoongi was the dramatic one between them. “Point is, this is a favor that I’ve chosen to grant you from the goodness of my heart! As I said, I’m giving you the love life you deserve! So stop whining and get moving before Y/N gets up here.”

“There isn’t any goodness nor a heart inside of you. And more importantly, when was the last time you did anything for free, you capitalist bastard!”

Seokjin clicks his tongue, shaking his head. “That’s where you’re wrong, Yoongi-chi. You’ve already paid me for my services by offering me front row seats to watch you lose your fucking mind. And that, my friend, is priceless.”

“Aha! So you do admit that this is all just a ploy to humiliate me!” Yoongi shouts. He grabs a knife from his scabbard, pointing it threateningly at Seokjin. He doesn’t even flinch, instead gently guiding Yoongi by the wrist over to the chopping board where he had placed some garlic cloves beforehand. Without prompting, Yoongi’s hand begins to move, his culinary instincts taking over.

“Yes and no,” Seokjin admits as he grabs Yoongi’s cast iron pan from the top shelf (which he has never gotten to use since he bought it, ever since Seokjin had borrowed it once and placed it too high for him to retrieve.) “I’m honestly trying to help you out here, my dude. Besides, even if shit hits the fan, Y/N isn’t gonna think any less of you. She’s too much of an idiot to resent anyone.”

“Speaking from experience?” Yoongi huffs, eyeing him with intense vitriol. “Can’t say I understand how she’s gone this long without killing you.” The next time the two of them are alone together in the wilderness, he can’t promise that his hands won’t find their way around Seokjin’s throat, and it won’t be sexy.

“Hmm. Yeah, definitely,” he says, nodding absentmindedly. As he begins to season the steak, he hands the cast iron pan to Yoongi. “Start preheating this. We need it to be smoking hot before we can place the steak on there.”

“I know how to cook a steak, fucker. And who said you’re allowed to serve my Wagyu steak? I was saving that for a special occasion!”

Seokjin looks up from his ministrations long enough to raise a brow at him. “So going on your first ever date with Y/N isn’t considered a special occasion?”

Yoongi falters, eyes widening. “N-no, that’s not what I mean!” he defends hotly, but he quickly snaps out of it. “Wait, no! This is not a date! Not when both parties did not agree to any of this!”

Seokjin pauses from his cooking to place a perfectly manicured hand on his hip. “I mean, Y/N agreed to it, so are you going to reject her? Huh? Too good for her and my spaghetti?”

Yoongi scoffs, rolling his eyes. “No, she did not agree to this. She doesn’t even know you’re forcing her to eat lunch with me.”

“How can you say that with such certainty?” Seokjin challenges, puffing his cheeks. “You don’t even know what I told her!”

Except I do know what you said, Yoongi thinks darkly to himself. And more importantly, I know what she thinks you were implying. He is pretty sure that the words “crush on him during high school” have seared themselves underneath his eyelids forevermore.

But instead, he says, “Yeah, well. If what you told her is as vague as what you told me, I have a pretty good hunch that this is going to blow up into a huge misunderstanding.”

Like the absolute menace that he is, all Seokjin does is shrug nonchalantly. “Suppose you are right… Who cares? It’s not like the two of you are strangers, so I’m sure this is going to go great!”

“What the fuck? She is a stranger! I’ve literally only spoken two words to her in the past four years!” Yoongi seethes, his temple throbbing from an oncoming migraine.

Seokjin ignores him, as per his want. “Grab that plate, will you? I gotta plate the pasta before Y/N starts calling again to let her into the building,” he says, nudging the tongs into Yoongi’s hands. Yoongi squawks, quickly turning the stove off to keep the food from burning.

Seokjin tears off his (read: Yoongi’s) apron off, wiping his hands on his jeans with a quick smile. “Great! While you finish up here, I’ll distract Y/N for a bit in my room before I lead her in here, alright? You better hurry unless you want to keep her waiting!”

“Oh, like how you kept her waiting downstairs for the past–” Yoongi checks his wall clock, “–seven minutes?”

Seokjin cackles madly, rushing out the door. “Well, that’s where you and I differ, Yoongi-chi! I give no shits about how Y/N thinks about me, so good luck!” After sending Yoongi three flying kisses for good measure, Seokjin slams the door shut, leaving Yoongi to simmer in his bad life choices.

The worst choice that he’s ever made? Being friends with one (1) Kim Seokjin.

“God, just end me,” Yoongi mutters, placing his $80 steak on his pan. It sizzles deliciously, much like how his (nonexistent) love life is about to get burnt to a crisp.

x x x x x

“Took you long enough.” You watch as Seokjin taunts you with a funny little dance by the lobby of his dormitory, the building receptionist not even batting an eye at his eccentricity. That’s the sad side effect of living in close proximity with Seokjin: you start getting desensitized to most things, not even flinching at the sight of a man without a functioning central nervous system.

Seokjin slides his card to open the door, finally allowing you entry. “Sorry. Got busy preparing your lunch! Which by the way, you should be thanking me for.”

“The moment I thank you for anything is the day that you slip on your own cum and die,” you grouse, nudging past him to get on the elevator first. You punch the button for the 5th floor before rapidly trying to close the elevator door on him. Unfortunately, Seokjin makes it in time before his ass gets clamped by the two steel doors.

“Thinking about my cum? Oh my, Y/N… I know you’ve had a dry spell for too long, but I didn’t think you’d be that desperate for some of my butter,” Seokjin says, leaning closely to wink at you.

Against your will, your cheeks brighten furiously, weakly pushing Seokjin away from you. “You wish. At least I don’t spend my spare time loitering outside the campus gym to ogle all the sweaty hot people.”

“And the invitation to join me still stands by the way!” Seokjin singsongs, leaping out of the elevator once you reach his floor. You walk side by side until you reach his room, but you catch him shooting a furtive glance at his next-door neighbor.

“Is Yoongi joining us for lunch?” you ask, failing to keep your curiosity from showing in your voice. If Yoongi does end up joining you for lunch (which has never happened in the past four years, convincing you that he must have a personal grudge against you), then at least it can confirm to you straight away that whatever this “date” is just another prank by Seokjin. You don’t know if you should be disappointed or grateful if it is just a joke.

Seokjin beams in response, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “You know what? He is going to join us, actually!”

He had been in the midst of unlocking his dorm when he changes direction, leading you to Yoongi’s door instead. He rifles through his other keys, and you notice one of them looks similar to his own house key, except with a Hello Kitty sticker on it. He pulls that key out and promptly unlocks Yoongi’s door without missing a beat.

What kind of weirdo must Yoongi be to give Seokjin a spare key to his dorm? You’d rather shit out a cactus than let Seokjin have free entry to your home whenever he pleases.

You hesitate by Yoongi’s door, feeling nervous all of a sudden. “Um, Seokjin? Are you sure it’s okay for me to–?”

“HONEY I’M HOOOOME!” Seokjin’s loud guffaw cuts you off before you can finish your question. He bursts through the door and leaves you by the hallway, and you watch as he nearly tackles Yoongi to the ground.

Yoongi, despite looking like he’s half the size of Seokjin on a good day, manages to keep upright despite how his back is now bent parallel to the floor. “Get off me!” he yells, roughly pushing Seokjin off of him.

Seokjin tumbles to the floor, but the shit-eating grin on his face hardly wavers. He points at you by the doorway, a cheeky grin on his lips. “Look, Yoongi-chi! I brought a guest!”

Yoongi spares you half a glance before returning his attention to whatever he was cooking. “I suppose you did.”

Okay, this date is definitely a joke. Why the hell did you even think for a second that Seokjin might have been into you?

“Um,” you stutter nervously. You grind your heel into the carpet self-consciously, your gaze downcast. “Hello, Yoongi. Sorry for the intrusion, by the way…”

“It’s fine,” Yoongi replies, albeit a little curtly. He clears his throat, his face still tilted away from you so you can’t tell if he’s genuinely annoyed or not.

You point a glare at Seokjin, who looks shamelessly pleased with himself. After taking a deep breath, you take your first steps into Yoongi’s home before gently closing the door.

As you look around at your new surroundings, you notice that his home is a lot cleaner than you would have expected, though you’re not exactly sure what you should have expected in the first place. It’s minimalist, but not in a barren type of way; it’s seems like Yoongi is fond of simple designs more than anything. It’s certainly a nice change of pace compared to Seokjin’s abomination of a room, with his vaguely yellow-stained bedsheets.

The smell of freshly cooked pasta and meat being grilled catches your senses immediately. You watch as Yoongi flips over a hefty piece of steak, the aroma causing your mouth to salivate instantly.

“I… What is… Huh?” you start, not knowing what to ask. You catch Seokjin snickering quietly to himself, but promptly shuts up when you mime punching him in the dick.

“It’ll be finished in a second. Why don’t you sit down?” Yoongi announces quietly, his gaze still fixed away from you. Confused but left with no other choice, you tentatively make your way to his couch, unable to relax as your spine remains ramrod straight and your jaw stays clenched.

You hear Seokjin shuffling behind you until he eventually makes his way to sit with you, plopping onto the couch as if it were his home. “Ah… I’m soooo hungry. Smells good, doesn’t it?” he asks you, his brow wiggling too much to be considered normal. Either that, or he was having a stroke.

“Yeah, it does,” you say, greatly uncomfortable. You peek at Yoongi once more, who is still dutifully attending to the steak. Making sure he isn’t looking, you twist Seokjin by the nipple, causing the elder to let out a high-pitched squeal. To an outsider, it might have almost sounded like he was being pleasured.

“Ouch! What the fuck was that for?” Seokjin whines, rubbing his tenderized nipples.

“You know what that was for,” you hiss, keeping your volume low. “What the hell are we doing here? Why are you making Yoongi cook for us?!”

“For us? It’s for you!” Seokjin snaps back. “Didn’t you say you would only come over if you got fed? Well, this is how you get fed!”

“I was under the assumption that you would be feeding me, not him!” you seethe. You check back on Yoongi, who still hasn’t looked your way once. “The poor boy… No wonder he doesn’t like me! He must think I’m as bad as you!”

Seokjin snorts. “Of course he likes you! This whole lunch date wouldn’t have even fucking happened if he wasn’t assdeep in lo–”

“Lunch is finished,” Yoongi interrupts loudly, his spatula rattling loudly against his pan. The sudden noise makes you jump away from Seokjin, who appears vaguely triumphant.

“T-thanks,” you stutter, standing up and resisting the random urge to shake his hand. Everything about this situation is so tense and awkward that it feels like you’re being filmed for a prank Youtube video or something. Knowing Seokjin, the odds of that happening are great.

“That’s my cue to leave then! Bye! You guys have fun!” Seokjin says, jumping to his feet.

You vaguely hear Yoongi gasp quietly when you launch yourself at Seokjin, just narrowly keeping from escaping. “Oh no, you don’t! Who said you could leave? You’re not going anywhere!”

But like the slippery snake that he is, Seokjin manages to wriggle out of your arms and hop over Yoongi’s coffee table to get to the door. “Too bad! I have classes to get to, so I gotta blast! Use this time to get to know each other or whatever it is that kids do these days,” he says, winking salaciously. With one final sputter of (evil) laughter, Seokjin makes his exit, leaving you and Yoongi to fester in some good ol’ fashioned discomforting silence.

“Um,” you say, just as Yoongi opens his mouth to say something too.

“No, you go first–”

“You go ahead–”

The two of you pause mid-sentence, staring at each other. You grin sheepishly at him, motioning for him to speak first.

He returns your smile half-heartedly. “So, um… I just wanted to say I’m sorry for letting Seokjin rope you into this. I tried stopping him, but… You know how he is.”

You laugh, sounding a little crazed even to your own ears. That’s the longest sentence you’ve ever heard him speak!

“Yeah, believe me… I am intimately aware of how he is. Sometimes I wish I wasn’t,” you joke.

Amazingly, your little quip makes his smile widen, his cheeks puffing up imperceptibly. “Glad we can agree that Seokjin has the amazing ability to ruin people’s lives. It’s almost welcoming to find solidarity in a shared experience.”

“Shared experience? Try shared trauma. That dude is a walking serotonin sucker,” you say dryly.

You don’t think what you said was remotely funny enough to warrant a laugh, but it causes Yoongi to let out a loud snort regardless. But the amusement on his face is short-lived, his cheeks going red in embarrassment. He slaps a hand to his mouth, breaking eye contact once more. “Oh fuck, that was so unflattering,” he groans, clearly mortified.

His blush, multiplied by his shy demeanor, makes you want to coo at him, but you doubt he’d take that too kindly. So instead, you change the subject to save him. “So, uhh… The food? You don’t have to give me any, by the way. I wouldn’t want you to waste your lunch on me or anything.”

Yoongi snaps out of his previous embarrassment, returning to the more familiar stoic expression you’ve come to associate with Yoongi. “No, that’s fine. Seokjin–er, rather… I made enough for two people, so it would be a waste if you didn’t eat at least some of it. But I don’t care either way if you want it or not.”

For two people? you wonder. So Yoongi had known Seokjin wasn’t going to join for lunch?

“Oh, if it’s fine with you…” you trail off, meekly making your way towards him. The spaghetti and steak look absolutely delicious, though you don’t need to tell him that when your stomach speaks for you. “Oh shit, that’s so embarrassing,” you say, your cheeks heating up this time.

Yoongi chuckles, shaking his head. “Haven’t eaten breakfast yet, I assume? That’s pretty stupid if you ask me. Don’t you have class until 5? How the hell would you have survived until then?”

You choke in surprise. Where did all that sass suddenly come from? “Excuse me? I’m not stupid! I would’ve been fine with a sandwich from the cafeteria if you must know!” you say indignantly. You’re too busy being offended that you don’t fully comprehend his words, failing to notice how he had known you had class until 5 in the first place.

“Sure, whatever you say.” Rolling his eyes, Yoongi starts shifting through his cupboards and pulling out a pink tupperware. He begins to load them with food, nearly overflowing the containers with how much he tries to stuff in them.

“H-hey! What are you doing?”

“Packing your lunch. You have class in a bit, yeah? It’s almost 11:50 and it takes around 15 minutes to get to the main campus. You won’t have time to eat here and make it in time,” he says, pointing you with a look. “Wait. Did you have coffee this morning?”

“Yeah? So?” you ask, defensive. “Are you gonna call me stupid again for not having caffeine or something?”

“No,” he grunts. “If you’re caffeinated, then that means it should only take you 7 minutes to get to class.”

“That doesn’t even make sense!” you exclaim, but you can’t help letting out an incredulous laugh. “Wow. You’re kinda weird, did you know that?”

“You barely even know me, so how would you know?” he retorts. He finishes placing food into the tupperware and promptly clicks the lid in place. He offers it to you, smirking slightly.

You huff, but your ire is all for show. You aren’t actually annoyed by him–he’s just… different from what you expected. A little shy, a little rough around the edges… but you can tell he isn’t a bad guy. You understand why Seokjin loves to torment him; he seems like a fun person to tease.

“That can be amended,” you respond, taking the tupperware from him. Your fingers graze the backs of his hand by accident, causing him to quickly retract his hand as though he’d been burned. You nearly drop the container in surprise, but luckily your reflexes save your precious food just in time.

“Sorry. About… you know.” Yoongi gesticulates wildly, his gaze darting anywhere but at you.

You smile secretly to yourself, amused. Ah. He’s like a human seesaw. Blushy one second and grumpy the next. “No worries, Yoongi. I’ll be sure to return this container soon, so don’t you worry.”

Yoongi shrugs. “Keep it if you want. I don’t care either way.”

Says the guy who has an entire cupboard full of color coordinating food containers. “Roger that, Yoongi.”

Yoongi walks you out the door, pausing outside the hallway with you. “Do you…” he hesitates, swallowing loudly enough for you to hear. “Do you… want me to walk you out?”

His sudden offer almost makes you want to laugh, but you have a feeling he wouldn’t find it amusing at all. Instead, you just shake your head with a smile. “Don’t worry. I won’t get lost. I think I remember where the door is.”

He pouts, his lips jutting out cutely. “Yeah, well. I was just trying to be nice, but you do you.”

You giggle lightly, patting him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry. You were more than nice,” you say, winking for added effect. It does more than you thought it would, causing Yoongi’s cheeks to bloom once more.

With one last wave, you make your way out of the dormitory, your heart a little lighter than before.

“Huh. That was weird.” You glance at the pink little tupperware in your hands, its warmth keeping your hands safe from the winter chill. As you walk to class, your thoughts are filled with nothing but a shy boy with soft hands and even softer cheeks. Maybe Tuesday isn’t going to be so bad after all.

#btsghostie #bts social media au #bts smau #bts texts #bts fake texts #bts x reader #bts smut #bts fluff #bts #bts scenarios #bts imagines #jungkook x reader #taehyung x reader #jimin x reader #yoongi x reader #namjoon x reader #hoseok x reader #seokjin x reader

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postmodernmulticoloredcloak · 3 years

Text

I decided to watch the Walker pilot so you don’t have to. #1

I don’t know why I’m doing this, but I’m doing this and the more I put it off the less I’ll want to do this. So. Let’s start.

The fist thing we see is Jared Padalecki, em Walker, driving. He’s vaguely smiling and there’s the sun behind him. He seems happy. He’s driving a truck, for some reason my mind goes to Twilight. I’d rather watch that. At least there are vampires (not dressed like clowns) there. Anyway. Walker is meeting someone. He’s meeting his wife! “Look at you!” she says. The camera makes us look at him. He looks like this

I am unsure whether we’re supposed to see this as sexy or cool. It looks frankly ridiculous. I don’t know if I’m just not American enough to appreciate the aesthetic of this. But I didn’t go through 15 seasons of Americana-in-British-Columbia for nothing. If a character appeared like this on Supernatural, it wouldn’t be presented seriously. It would be played for a chuckle or in a light-hearted way at least. Not even Dean Winchester would find this hot.

The Padaleckis tell something to each other. Apparently he needs to go home with the kids and his parents because it’s game night. My mind immediately goes to Game Night the episode and I am sad now. But Walker lifts my mood in its own weird way. He doesn’t know the rules because every time she tells him the rules, he blacks out. I would make a fun quip about this, but the truth is that I relate to him a lot right now because I blacked out during the entire scene. I’m not sure what they said other than the game thing because I wrote it here. I already forgot the rest.

Anyway. What we’re supposed to get from this scene that they’re Very In Love (see that soft warm light?), and that he’s anxious because he’s not great at being a father because he’s shit at games apparently, but his wife is like ~don’t worry so much~ because she’s a kind, understanding wife. He tells her to be safe, because the Texan countryside is dangerous or something. She needs to stay on a route he approved for some reason. Is she traveling with supersoldier serum in her car? Is Hydra going to murder her? [cue the Marvel snipers shooting me to death because they don’t want Marvel to be associated to this]

Later, everyone is having fun playing fake monopoly, but Walker (whose mannerism is just Jared, he’s not even trying) is apparently too stupid to understand a game for kids. Plot twist, this is anti-cop propaganda because it says cops are dumb.

“Et tu Brute” Jared says when the kids point out he broke a rule so they get an extra turn. I thought I was safe from hearing Jared speak Latin! I thought I was safe! I am never safe!

Emily (Gen) suddenly texts him “SOS. Answer” which is OMINOUS! Oh my god! Aren’t you feeling the tension. The rest of the family keeps playing fake monopoly. Someone throws dice. Are we supposed to go “oh! The dice are ~symbolic because someone’s playing dice with her life” or have I been watching too much good tv.

She is running somewhere in the countryside, wearing a white shirt (is this the cowboy lady equivalent of the Wife Nightgown?). She says something is not right. He’s worried. Then he hears gunshot and her scream. He does the Alarmed Jared face, presses lips together and does a Upset Jared face.

Then he goes out, tries to call her again, and again, does a Jared Upset Sniff--

Oh! We actually see her! She’s alive, but she’s been shot in the stomach. Her white shirt is definitely the cowboy lady equivalent of the Wife Nightgown! Ah the blood coming from the stomach! How terrible! Her phone is ringing but she cannot reach it. She is definitely alive right now, though. She’s breathing heavily because of the wound, which is breathing, which is the opposite of being dead.

He decides that she’s dead, and lets out the already infamous manly scream of anguish.

It would be sad if it wasn’t that literally one second ago we saw her wounded but alive. Her turning out alive in the season finale or so will shock everyone. Nobody will have seen it coming. Who wrote this? They should have just shown the ringing phone and her bloody hand/side, making the audience assume she was dead, instead of showing her breathing. Now the audience is gonna assume she didn’t actually die, and wonder “why didn’t he call someone or went looking for her” but apparently Jared’s characters have forgotten that, like, ambulances are a thing. Jared’s manly screams of anguish are more important than common sense.

I’m not going to say anything about the manly scream of anguish. I’m not going to say anything about the manly scream of anguish. I’m n

We’re just 4 minutes in, guys. Why am I doing this?

Eleven months later, says the screen.

It’s night, outside a house. The son is waiting for him. The daughter doesn’t think he’s coming. On the porch there are two men, one is his brother and one is apparently his former partner, now new boss. He’s dressed like you’d expect a normal person to be dressed in a casual Texan night, hat and tie and all. If you are law enforcement in Texas and don’t wear a cowboy hat at any moment, you will be executed. That’s what the death penalty in Texas is for.

Somebody arrives, but to the kids’ disappointment is some dude whose function is to tell us the men’s names. The brother is Liam, the cop dude I forgot.

Walker is being sad on the back of his truck and drinking alcohol, which is the only way television can express a man having trauma. Holy shit - he reminisces of his wife like this is some emotional Lord of the Rings scene in a place where Elves live except this is not the Lord of the Rings and is just ridiculous, look

She’s seen running towards the gazebo, then she turns

This is exactly shot like the scene where Arwen has a vision of her son. Flowy hair and all. I cannot take this seriously.

He smiles sadly. Then a cop car arrives.

Mexican Lady Cop(TM), whose function in the story is to be a Mexican Lady Cop(TM) asks for his licence since he’s drinking alcohol in a public place.

“You ask so nicely” drunk Walker says. Ew. “Yeah, they train the girls special” Oh! Can you see? She is the Feminist Icon who Takes No Shit from the Dude! I’m so excited. I am slowly losing the will to live.

She drives him home on the police car. His legs don’t fit. At least this is realistic.

He does exposition in the car, including “I needed to visit a ghost instead”. There-there was no need to say it. What’s the demographic they’re aiming for? Five year olds? Do they have to spell everything out loud?

“It’s been a while since I had an actual conversation” he says, which supposedly explains why he’s making awkward exposition, but it’s just bad writing. At least they acknowledge it’s bad writing.

She figures he’s law enforcement coming back from an undercover mission from some drunken ramble he makes. This is worse than the Sherlock phone cable port thing.

She says she just got promoted from state trooper, ehe she will work with him wink wink nudge nudge. Is she going to be a cop-buddy-character slash love interest except when they’re almost about to realize they’re into each other, his wife comes back and draa~ama? I can already see it.

He goes home, makes some Jared grunts, and falls asleep on the couch.

Next morning, he goes out and jogs to where he left the truck. He puts on a cowboy hat which is supposed to be an artistic shot.

I’m slowly dying. He makes some Jared Deep Breaths, at least this made me laugh.

Wait, he’s now wearing a black hat. He’s in mourning, see? What.

He drives to his father’s ranch. His father is Super Not Impressed. It’s awkward. They took about horses. Mitch Pileggi is thinking that at least the other show was more exciting and there was Jensen Ackles in it.

He gets into his parents’ house and the dogs run to him, he does the Jared Dog Chuckle. He hugs his mom. He hugs his son - “August, my boy!” he says, like a normal person his age says.

He hugs his brother and they joke-wrestle and he says “I’m still the big brother” and did I mention I’m dying inside. I just can tell this is SUPPOSED to be reminiscent of Dean and Sam’s first meeting at Stanford in the pilot except Jared is the big brother now. Ew.

We learn that the brother is a DA and gay. All pilots suffer from Forced Exposition Syndrome but it’s like this isn’t even trying.

He goes to work and hugs (very manly hug of course) his friend-now-boss, who is called James. James asks him if he’s good and he’s like yeah I’m good, which our I’m Fine Lie Moment #1. Some things never change.

Enter the case of the week - a cop offered roadside assistance but he was assaulted. We’re already starting with a “Oh No Poor Cop :( Someone Doesn’t Like Cops And Gets Violent” plot. Yay.

Ta-da! Mexican Lady Cop appears, cowboy hat and all. James says she’s Walker’s new partner. My heart cries while Walker says “figured you’d be a guy” and she replies “so did my mom”. The feminism is so strong :’) She’s such a strong female character :’) I’m so happy :’)

Then Walker makes such a quintessential Jared thing with his mouth that I need to stop this here and take a break.

It’s been 13 minutes. So much still to go. I’m bored. Why am I doing this.

#cw's jared: legit texan #marghe watches walker for some darned reason

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jiilys · 3 years

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would u help me out for a second. im in the mood to write for the first time, and i think your style is beautiful. sitting down n actually trying though, im stuck as fuck! i’m realizing that in your dialogue/scenes you’ve got a lot of Little Things. little tiny elements that are subtle & just enough. how are you deciding that lily is building a house of cards at the moment or sirius is sitting in a tree or whatever during a given scene? how do you come up with those ideas for dialogue that are so silly & real & sneakily tender? do you know where it’s going when you begin? any advice for just… starting something?

ps: i appreciate you. you make it look easy & that’s very very cool

This is a lovely question!! Sorry it took me so long to get to it, I didn’t want to get it wrong. Also I’ve included some examples to try and explain what I mean in practise, but it also comes off rather like plugging. tragically this is unavoidable. Anyway, all that being said I have no idea how to advise you about dialogue and coming up with it, I think just listening to people talk helps. Don’t forget contractions, and when in doubt always trust the reader to keep up, real people don’t say perfect or even grammatically correct sentences a lot of the time. We also cut each other off all the time, especially when we’re trying to be funny. Like, here’s an example from warm front:

“He’s not even two. He probably would have thought it was, like, having a lie down or something.”

Harry was laughing now, “A lie down?”

“Yeah, a spontaneous, truck-induced–“

“–Permanent–“ “

–Permanent, lie-down. I’m almost jealous now actually.”

Another thing, but people say um and like or can't speak or cut themselves off, especially when they’re nervous. James when Lily says she loves him for the first time: ‘“Wow,” He breathed, “I’m– wow.” He put both hands on her cheeks and kissed her crazy, abruptly, dumbly. Her head spun.’ He can’t even speak! Dumb boy.

I think natural dialogue sometimes just requires you to read it aloud, which is very embarrassing but ultimately quite useful in trying to figure out whether something sounds normal or not. Use casual words, and try not to go dictionary hunting: if you cant think of the word chances are your character can’t either

In terms of concepts I have no idea, but I do have a few tips. I write all my short one-shots in one document (its called ‘just bad’ lmao) so its easy to start something, write a few lines, and then if it doesnt work just start a new concept, but still have all the old stuff handy. if you feel like you’ve written yourself into a corner its probably because you took a wrong turn earlier, so its just a matter of going back up and figuring out where you turned onto the dead end, or where a line could be funnier and/or sadder and/or more meaningful. Sometimes the bare bones of a decent line is there but you have to work it a little.

In this harry/ginny thing where harry is apologising for all the attention and ginny brushes him off she says:

“It’s nothing,” her voice, all force, “Anyway, it’s more funny than annoying.”

The response went through a few drafts, all variations on the same thing:

(1) “You’re funnier.” [too short, doesn’t make sense, and not really that funny. unholy trinity]

(2) “You make it funny.” Harry said, looking at her for real, “It’s not– you make it like that.” [this could work! I have no idea why I cut this, I think I forgot abt it lmao]

(3) “You’re the funniest person I know, Harry said, sincerely, and Ginny felt her heartbeat all through her, “You make it funny.” [jumping from ‘its more funny than annoying’ to getting this sincere out of nowhere is a little much, even for harry who is famously whipped]

I ended up going with this:

“It’s nothing,” her voice, all force, “Anyway, it’s more funny than annoying.”

“You’re funny.” Harry said, looking at her for real, flustered, “I mean– you make it funny. That’s all you.”

It follows the flow of the conversation and I think the way he says it, ‘you’re funny’ like its obvious, and then being like oh fuck and over-explaining it stumbling a little “I mean– you make it funny. That’s all you.”. You know when you like someone and you say something that gives you away before you can stop yourself? I wanted it to sound like that. Just gotta keep in mind how people behave, we are so stupid a lot of the time, we give ourselves away.

The thing about short stuff i find is implying a lot of history without actually describing a lot of it. I normally do this by having memories come up as almost shards, one second of feeling. You know when you’re in a conversation with someone and they mention someone or a past event, and it rises to the top of your brain, but only for a second? i find sometimes when you’re reading stuff people will try and replay entire memories or events mid-conversation, which is not something you do when you think. You don’t need to replay it beat by beat, you were there! This sounds vague as hell so I’ll try and show you what I mean:

From good crimes: “Petunia is engaged.” Lily’s voice, raw and wrong, “To Vernon. Eliza Hunt told me at the supermarket.” Sudden flashes of Petunia, the only time he’d ever met her, sat in the back of Lily’s twenty-first, pinched and whispering. “Whose Eliza Hunt?” This seems as good a thing to say as any.

pretty on the nose (the phrase ‘sudden flashes’ is pretty so i'll allow it from past me). But see how you don’t need to know how Petunia didnt talk to anyone, how she left early, how she was the odd one out: you don’t need to read all that, you already know because she was sat in the back and because pinched is such a mean verb, spiteful and sharp, you can already imagine how the evening went without me saying so

From my proposal take, after Sirius finds out they’re engaged: Sirius’ grip on his shoulder tightened for one second, still grinning, and James knew what he meant. “I know.” He said, because only Sirius had been there for all of it, when they were fifteen, drunk on Firewhiskey for the first time and James had said I think I’ve fucked it, I think I’ve fucked it but I like her for real.

you don’t need a description of the whole night, what party they were at, who they were with, what they were talking about: the important bit is that Sirius was the first person he told, and that they’re both remembering that at the same moment because they’re soulmates lmao. You know when something big happens for a friend and you feel so full of pride & love that you feel like you’ll burst into confetti?? this needed to feel like that, and you only need a flash for it

I feel like I’ve sort of strayed off from what you asked me, which is really advice on how to start something. I normally start with a line, usually of dialogue, and then try and build from there because dialogue is my thing. You might have a different thing! Some people write from concepts or locations, or an image. i might start with one or a few lines of dialogue, write them down, and then try to build from there. For example for the proposal thing I started from james just saying “Marry me”, which I find more romantic than ‘will you marry me’, purely because it sounds like he simply couldn’t stop himself from saying it, like it rushed out. Another example, this thing started from just “don’t be mad at me” “okay” James agreed instantly, because he is such a sucker for her.

When I write I don’t normally know where I’m going! I normally set out to write something I think is vaguely funny and evokes An Emotion, and then I just play around with stuff until I get there. when I write certain stuff and I have scenes in mind, stuff I want to happen, but I find that if I try to plot it to tightly its not exciting to work on, because sometimes you write a good line by accident, that you hadn’t thought of when you sat down, and you surprise yourself. That is a really nice feeling! i want to maximise that feeling.

'What I mostly try to remember is that writing something down, anything down, is useful. Sometimes you write for a whole night and dont get anything useable, but its like clearing pipes. Sometimes you have to flush through shit to get to the good bits. All the rough stuff, the things you don’t like or didn’t work, you wrote to get you to the stuff that did work. All of the bad shit got you here! It wasn’t a waste, you were working to find the good thing

If I had any tips its just the usual stuff, read! It is annoying how much that helps. Also, and I know this may make you shudder, but reading poetry is useful just because in no other literary or media form is language so important. In comics you have pictures, in novels you have plot and character, in film you all that and cinematography, but in poetry you live and die by how good the words are. If you want recs here’s my poem roundup tag, that I do sometimes, or if you want something just now read this by Anne Carson, which uses words like ‘smashing’, ‘boatwash’, and ‘green’ in the best way possible. Also it has these lines: “Recently having learned to recognize the type of tree called sycamore, / I see them in any forest— / the ones that look harrowed, / in shreds, but / go also / straight up into life,”

I mean, think of a sharper image than that?? It’s not possible. Just try remember to stay true to your characters and that in real life, the little stuff is the big stuff. Little things the people around you do normally show they care more than big speeches, and if you want to show love that’s how to make it feel lived in. You want to build a world! the little stuff is usually the world. Take some from your own or dream the ones you wish you had.

This truly was a very kind message and I’m so grateful you like my stuff, I hope any of this was even half-useful, although now reading it back it is borderline nonsensical. I’m going to bed now, good luck with the writing, and don’t forget to send it to me!!

caro xoxo

#writing bitching #said it already but loved this message it was so thoughtful. seemed pretty articulate to me i think ur writing is gunna be just fine!!!#rooting for you & anyone trying to write something rn. words suck and are difficult! they are also better than drugs & sex. regretable #kindnesses

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stuckwith-harry · 3 years

Text

Hide-and-seek

A/N: Oh, to be a chicken in times like these. (CW for discussion of death, nothing graphic.)

In the chicken shed it might as well still be the eighties, as though time had only gone on for the humans living in the house on the other side of the fence, but not in here, where the hens are quietly clucking and cooing and enjoying their naps, until Ginny shakes a handful of lettuce in the air like an invitation, a beckoning – then they come hurrying towards her, beaks tearing greedily at the green leaves.

When the hens have had their fill, Ginny looks over the gaggle of bickering ladies and finds her favourite amongst them, Genoveva with her warm brown feathers and clever eyes, who yells and shrieks when Ginny lifts her up by her impossibly soft belly, crouching down in the chicken shed, and pulls the disgruntled hen to her chest.

“Look, I’ll make it up to you”, Ginny tells her quietly. She fishes sweetcorn out of the front pocket of her dungarees and holds her open palm out to Genoveva, not flinching or grimacing when the sharp beak leaves little red marks on her skin as the hen gulps down her treat.

Ginny smiles.

The summer after her first year, she climbed into the chicken shed every day. She was soothed, then, by the arrhythmic clucking and the smell of fresh hay and the fact that the hens allowed her to share their company, that they did not recoil in horror at her sight.

It was her that named them, while she sat here for hours and hours with a chicken in her lap, more often than not Genoveva, who, for all her complaining, was easily the most patient of the bunch, and who nestles into her lap now, blinking slowly in the twilight while Ginny strokes her feathers, the burning inside her ribcage dull and pulsating like that of an infected wound.

Like it was her that took the damn Killing Curse to the chest.

“You’ve no idea how lucky you are”, she mutters, meeting Genoveva’s sharp eyes. “Nothing in those little heads of yours except earthworms and soft hay.”

She sits there for ages and ages like she did that summer, willing the comfort of the soft animal to sink into her like warmth. When she finally gets up to leave the chickens be, she tosses the rest of the sweetcorn into the hay (Genoveva looks utterly betrayed), fills up the grains in the feeder, and climbs out of the shed with the smell of warm feathers and wheat straw still in her nose.

“Chicken-feeding duty?”, calls a voice from near the house as she swings her bare legs over the wooden fence and strolls back towards the Burrow. When she looks for the voice’s owner, she discovers Ron, sitting on the weathered bench below the kitchen window.

“What’re you doing out here?”, she calls out as she comes closer.

“Hiding”, he says dully. “Mum’s crying again.”

Ginny feels something inside her chest take a tumble. “Is anyone with her?”

“Yeah, I’m not that much of a dickhead. Dad and Percy and Bill are all in there.”

“You’re not a dickhead”, Ginny says automatically, surprising them both. Then: “Mind if I stay?”

He shrugs. “Be my guest.”

So she sinks on the bench beside him, joining him in his grim silence. They gaze aimlessly over the soft green hills all around, the shape of the lake like a blue thumbprint in the landscape, where they whiled away so many happier, warmer days than this, and Ottery St. Catchpole’s mismatched roofs in the distance, smoke rising from the chimneys.

Ron finally looks over at her. “Were you with the chickens this whole time? I thought you’d grown out of your obsession with them.”

Ginny musters up a grin. “Never. I love those stupid hens. That was just an elaborate ruse so I could hide in the chicken coop when we used to play hide-and-seek. It never occurred to any of you to look.”

“Well, you stopped growing at about five feet, I figure you fit right in.”

Ginny whacks him in the knee. In a true testament to the severity of the situation, Ron does not retaliate.

She tells herself it’s that, not how much they aged him, the few short months that he was gone.

It’s less blatant now that Mum has shorn back the unkempt mop of hair that was falling into his eyes and growing down the back of his neck like wild weeds when he walked through the secret entrance of the Room of Requirements with Harry and Hermione; now that he’s shaved the patchy stubble on his cheeks and his face has regained a little fullness. But sometimes she still looks at him and wonders how ten years have not passed since she watched him slip away into thin air at Bill and Fleur’s wedding.

“Did anything happen?”, she asks. “With Mum?”

Ron shrugs, expression blank. “Some fool said his name again. I never noticed how rarely we actually said the twins’ individual names until we had to break the habit of saying Fred-and-George all in one go. It’s like he’s Voldemort.”

Ginny doesn’t laugh.

“I know”, she mutters. “Don’t think it’ll ever come naturally.”

He nods mechanically. “Anyway – I made a run for it. I just couldn’t do it right then, having to comfort her and everything.”

Ginny looks over at him. “Funny, you’re so good at it.”

“You just say that because I make the best tea.”

“Well, you do.”

The same way that children can recognise each of their family members by the sound of their footsteps as heard through a wall, or the rhythmic pattern with which they knocked on the door, the Weasley siblings have learned to read each other’s silences since they’ve come home. Often now, they appear at each other’s bedroom doors at all hours of the night, shaken from nightmares or too restless to sleep or, rarely, weeping.

Most nights, two or three or four of them eventually find themselves in the kitchen, where Ginny turns on the lights, and Ron puts on the kettle, and they sit there and while away the small hours in each other’s company, in silence, in quiet understanding, in murmured chatter about nothing at all. It’s good comfort, the idea that even after everything, there’s nothing in this world that a hot cup of tea can’t fix.

Ginny shifts on the bench next to him, pulling her knees to her chest. “Remember when that fox got one of the hens? I was inconsolable, and you were so nice to me when we put her in a shoebox and buried her behind the house, you didn’t even make fun of me.”

“You lot are different, that’s easy. I just can’t take it when it’s our parents.”

Ginny hums in understanding. “I think seeing Dad cry was worse for me. At the memorial.”

“Cheers, thanks for bringing it up again.”

She snorts.

“You’re good with Harry”, she says softly. “D’you miss him at all?”

He rolls his eyes. “He just sleeps two floors below me, it’s not like he died.”

Ginny winces.

Ron does not miss the look on her face or the heaviness of her silence, as they have all learned to do, and asks in an unnaturally light tone: “How’re you coping with him waking up three times a night?”

He seems relieved, for a moment there, when she smirks.

“It’s not too bad, actually. At least he makes for a great pillow.”

Ron looks appalled. “What the hell happened to the camp bed?”

“Oh, we just keep that around for decoration now.” She grins, comforted by the opportunity to tease him. “And he doesn’t wake up as much anymore.”

His face lights up. “That’s good news, at least. Lead with that next time.”

“Oh, he’s just … stopped going to sleep altogether.”

“That really solves that problem”, he says darkly. “The idiot.”

“I don’t think it’s purposeful”, she says. “He’s always pretending to be asleep when I look at him, but I can always tell. And when he does doze off, I’ll just stir next to him, and that’s enough to wake him up again.”

“He’s a really light sleeper these days”, Ron says apologetically. “The worst camping trip in the world will do that to a person.”

Ginny grins faintly. “Yeah, he’s mentioned it.”

“He’s talking, then?”

“Hm-hm.” She wraps her arms a little tighter around her legs. “Which is good, I guess.”

He watches her for a minute, as though unsure what to make of her tone. “Anything on your mind?”

She laughs. “Anyone ever told you you’re turning into Mum?”

“Well, we’re here anyway!”, Ron says, ears flushing. “Spit it out, will you?”

“He, uhm –”

It has not occurred to her, until right now, how difficult it would be to pass the story on, even to someone who has heard it before. Harry handed it to her because she asked him to, and still it knocked into her like a wild animal, pouncing, the weight of it like a Hippogriff standing on her chest, pinning her to the earth.

“He told me about walking into the Forbidden Forest.”

“Ah”, Ron says hollowly. “No wonder you’re hiding in a chicken coop.”

She looks around at him. “It’s not Harry I’m hiding from.”

“But you are hiding”, Ron says wisely.

Ginny shrugs. “I dunno what I expected. Somehow I’d convinced myself I already knew the worst of it. Which, as it turns out, was a bit stupid of me.”

She draws in a shaky breath.

“I thought he was in on it. Ever since I watched him come back to life at Hagrid’s feet … I thought there was some sort of plan. But there wasn’t, or Dumbledore didn’t tell him, anyway. I thought he knew he was going to survive, and it turns out that, uhm – he didn’t know shit. He went there to die, for real.”

Ginny looks back at him, words coming faster now. “And I’m – I’m so angry, and I don’t know why. Or who I’m angry with. It can hardly be Harry.”

“In all fairness, I kind of felt like punching him when he told us”, Ron says quietly, and her mouth briefly twists into something like a smile. “If anything we should be angry with Voldemort, or Dumbledore, even – but they’re not within punching distance, so what are you gonna do?”

“If Dumbledore wasn’t already dead, I would kill him”, Ginny says. “I swear, I would kill him.”

“Yeah, that sounds reasonable”, Ron says good-naturedly, patting her arm.

“And Harry – Harry keeps apologising, and I don’t know what for.”

Ron’s expression is pained. “Isn’t it obvious?”

“No.”

He sighs. She handed this to him, and now he is steeling himself to hand something back to her. She can tell.

“My best guess is … for not saying goodbye.”

Ginny does not look at him. Suddenly she is blinking rapidly in the fading light, sitting there as the blow rolls over her, something blunt and violent that should have broken her ribs like the impact of a Bludger; but there is no injury, only an ache that does not abate, that sits all around her, inside her. She doesn’t think it’s ever going to go away, all that hurting, writhing and straining inside her like a second skeleton.

“How could he have? We would’ve dragged him back to the castle by the damn hair.”

“Of course we would have”, Ron says robustly.

For a moment he looks like he’s going to reach out to her, hold her, maybe. He seems to think better of it in the end, and she’s almost relieved, dreading what she’d do if someone hugged her.

It’s another thing that won’t ever come easily: showing up on someone’s doorstep, weeping.

“If it’s any consolation”, he says after a while, “I think that’s the worst of it.”

“I’ve been wondering”, she mutters. “Can’t think of very much that beats walking to your own death. No fucking wonder he doesn’t sleep.”

“It’s funny”, Ron says, “I talked to him less than an hour ago, and he seems alright, almost.”

Ginny shrugs. “Isn’t he always? Remarkably functional, considering.”

Ron makes an attempt at a smile. “It’s such a Harry thing to do, though, isn’t it? Always dying for other people. Or trying to, anyway.”

“Hardly just a Harry thing, it turns out.”

It’s all shit, she thinks when he looks at her. Being the person knocking at the door, and the one listening on the other side, opening it.

“He told me about Malfoy Manor”, she says softly.

“Ah.” Ron kicks at the dirt to his feet. “Well, then you know what keeps me up at night.”

“He said – he said you offered to swap places with Hermione. Let Bellatrix have you instead.”

“And? You would’ve done the exact same thing for him.”

Ginny almost smiles. He might as well still be the boy who stuck stubbornly by her side next to the chicken fence all night, when she couldn’t bear to head back to the house, in case the fox ever came back.

“Yeah. I would have.”

It settles on her shoulders as quickly and unnoticeably as night, rapidly falling all around them: everything she would’ve done, in a heartbeat, in an instant.

“I would’ve taken the forest, too”, she says, more to herself than to Ron. “I would’ve done it all for him.”

It seems significant, somehow, that Ron does not resist this. That maybe he knows what it felt like, to Ginny, when they walked out into the courtyard and saw Harry.

That, too, felt like a Bludger to the chest: the sight of him, a kid in Hagrid’s arms, his glasses askew. How she wished it was her lying there, dead in his place.

“Those two”, Ron says abruptly. “Some day they’re really gonna be the death of us.”

Ginny almost laughs.

“So you won’t strangle him for abandoning the camp bed?”

Ron eyes her for a moment, a sort of benevolent sternness in his expression – and Ginny was right, that’s all Mum. “Yeah, I’ll consider it.”

“I’m sorry, anyway”, she says, half-smiling. “For costing you your roommate.”

Ron sighs. “They grow up so fast.”

“And for all this, too. You were trying to hide, I didn’t mean to …”

“It’s all right. You had to find me eventually.”

#hp #hp fanfic #fanfiction #ron weasley #ginny weasley #jessie writes #at this point if there's typos in this .... exchange 'em for cookies at the till #also i like desperately need a tag for these two but it'll be meta as all hell #brotp: i'm a can on a string you're on the end #told ya.

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ultraimaginez · 3 years

Text

My Love Is Not A Joke - [Mammon x Reader]

Fandom: Obey Me! Ship: Mammon x gn! reader Word Count: 1.9k Rating: T A/N: just thinkin about the amount of effort it would take to convince mammon you actually like him and you’re not just being an ass to him like everyone else made me feel a lot of thiiiings and then this was born lol.

Mammon lives in a liminal space between fear and a love so fierce it threatens to consume him. It’s a hell of his own making-- too cowardly to tell you how he really feels and too devoted to let you go.

And so you are forced to exist in this hellish space with him. Each time you try to get close he pushes you away, afraid he’ll be the butt of just another joke. Each time you try to give him space he pulls you back in, terrified you might leave him. It’s an exhausting game of tug of war between his ego and his heart and, frankly, you’re sick of being the god damn rope.

Eventually you reach your breaking point.

You are lying in bed, staring at the ceiling and replaying another days worth of back and forths between you and a certain white haired demon boy. This has become as much a part of your night time routine as putting on pajamas or brushing your teeth. Every flush of his cheeks-- be it in anger or embarrassment or affection-- every dumb argument, or sweet sentiment, or stupid joke. They all play like a never ending feedback loop in your mind. But tonight a thought strikes you as you roll over to finally try and get some sleep-- as long as Mammon is engaged in this endless war against himself you’ll be stuck in it right along side him. He’s never going to give himself peace. He’ll fight until there’s nothing left of himself. So if the two of you are going to get out of this mess it comes down to you.

It’s a scary thought, the idea you might have to be vulnerable and make the first actual move. Scary enough that you try and let it go. Maybe you can just sleep on it and think about it more in the morning.

But now you can’t think of anything else. The thought begins to ruminate in your brain and there’s no way you can sleep at this point. You stay awake all night wondering if there’s any other solution. Any other way out of this mess. It turns out you also exist in the liminal space between fear and love. The idea of telling Mammon how you feel is paralyzing. And so you go to school the next day not having slept at all.

This pattern continues for nearly a week. Each night you stare at your ceiling going round and round in circles. And maybe Mammon can take this awful tug of war but you certainly can’t. You don’t have millennia to stay away pondering this shit. You’re a mortal and you’re being driven in-fucking-sane. So finally, on the seventh night of nearly no god damn sleep, you fling off your covers and irritably begin stomping down the hall.

You ignore Beel who is hip deep inside the refrigerator cleaning it out of whatever the hell is left inside. You passively wave to Levi when he sticks his head out of his room to ask you to play games and mumble some lame excuse. You’re on a mission to resolve this once and for all and nothing will stop you.

You make a beeline to your destination and once you reach Mammon’s door you begin to pound on it aggressively.

A familiar voice rings out from inside. “Jeez, cool it, Lucifer. I told you, I’m working on it. I’ll have all these late assignments done by tomorrow just gimme some time.”

“It’s me.”

There’s a pause and you can’t practically hear the gears turning in Mammon’s head as he registers who is speaking.

“Oh well why the hell didn’t ya just say so? Come in.”

You open the door to his room and find Mammon sprawled out in one of the arm chairs in the center of his room. His feet are propped up on the table and his leather jacket is flung over the couch opposite of him, leaving him in his normal jeans and black shirt. You can tell he’s been running his fingers through his white hair in frustration as it’s mused and messier than normal and his brows are knit in concentration as he looks down at his notebooks.

“Stupid Lucifer. Makin’ me do all this damn work in one night. It’s not fair.” He says, tossing the books onto the table as you shut the door behind you and approach him.

You have a rebuttal about how it’s not exactly ‘unfair’ since all of that work had been assigned weeks ago, but it dies on your lips when he looks up at you. You can feel you heart jump into your throat as your eyes meet, the normal façade of the student mode dropped here where he is comfortable and alone. People often attribute fastidiousness with appearance with Asmo, but Mammon is usually just as put together. Seeing him so relaxed is special, it’s something you know he reserves for only people close to him.

Your not sure how long you stand there at the edge of his chair looking down at him but it must be longer than normal because the sound of Mammon clearing his throat pulls your attention. “Eh? Do I have something on my face? You’re staring and it’s weirding me out.” His cheeks are pink and he looks absolutely anywhere but your face. “Anyway, what the hell are you doing here in the middle of the night? Couldn’t wait to see me until tomorrow, huh?”

Well.. It’s now or never. You’ve plucked up enough courage to make it this far so you might as well commit.

“Mammon, I like you. A lot. And I hope that doesn’t make you uncomfortable but I just... do. So. Yeah... Do with that what you will.”

If you weren’t borderline unhinged from the complete lack of sleep and frayed nerves and being so vulnerable, you would find the way his eyes quadrupled in size fucking hilarious.

“Wha? What do you mean? Is this some sort of dumb prank.” You can see him looking past you at the door. He’s searching for his brothers, searching for a camera, searching for the evidence that this is all some elaborate joke at his expense. You can already hear the derisive laughter he’s waiting for playing in his head. ‘Stupid, Mammon.’ ‘How could you think they would ever like you?’ ‘Got you good, huh?’ ‘Actually thought that they might like you? You’re even dumber than we thought-’

You cut off whatever string of insults he’s playing in his own hand by gently touching his face, cupping his cheek with your hand.

“It’s not a joke, Mammon. I like you. And I understand if you don’t feel the same way but... I need you to know that.”

It’s clear that the moment you touch his skin his internalized war rises into a crescendo. It breaks you open to see his eyes soften with a vulnerability you’ve never seen before, blue gold shimmering with an emotion you can’t quite place but sends your heart hammering harder than it ever has before... and then immediately they harden again. “Do you have a fever or something?! Jeez, leave it to a human to get sick right when I’m supposed to be doing something else. I don’t always have time to be-”

He begins to rise from the chair and it’s clear he wants to run, wants to hide, wants to lick his wounds before they can even form. You can tell he’s already written this off as another joke at his expense. If you let him get away from you right now you’ll lose that look you found in his eyes just moments ago for good.

You push down on his shoulders, seating him in the chair again, and then wordlessly climb on top of him, pinning him beneath your weight. Surely he could pick you up and yeet you across the entire god damn room if he wanted to, but the action seems to break the string of negative self talk long enough for you to actually speak to him.

“Mammon.” You grab his face between your hands and force him to look at you. His expression is wild-- scared and hopeful and completely unguarded. “I. Like. You. And it’s not some joke. If you don’t feel the same way just tell me. But if you do-”

You don’t get to finish the rest of the sentence.

Mammon kisses you like you are oxygen and he’s on the verge of drowning. One hand shoots up to the back of your neck, pulling you close, tangling his long tanned fingers in your hair. The other comes to rest on your thigh. It’s all you can do to twine your own fingers through his soft white hair and pull him closer as he rocks into your body. You feel tears begin to well in the corner of your eyes as a surge of emotion races through you. You’ve never felt so much for one person in all your life. It’s enough to make you feel like you’re being crushed under the weight of it all.

At some point you physically can’t keep kissing him because you’re afraid you might actually suffocate. You pull back to take in a breath but he continues to hold you close, keeping his hands in your hair, lips still only inches from your own. You look at him, his eyes are more gold than blue now and you feel like you might catch fire if you look at him too long. You let out a breathy “Oh...”

Apparently he’s decided you’ve had enough time to breath and he’s on you again, pulling you close and making desperate little noises every time you part lips even briefly. You wonder if maybe you can die from catching on fire internally because every part of you feels like it’s engulfed in flames.

Eventually you manage to part again, long enough to put a hand on his chest and keep him from chasing your lips. You’re breathing heavily, trying to suck in air but finding it hard to do so when Mammon is looking at you like he’s just waiting for the chance to devour you again.

“So..” your voice comes out an octave higher than normal and your face turns scarlet, clearing your throat so you can try to speak somewhat normal. “Uh.. I take it... we’re on the same page then? Y’know... about... stuff...?” You’re not exactly eloquent but Mammon just kissed you to the point of ceasing brain function so, really, who can blame you?

There’s a beat of silence, and then Mammon speaks, voice deeper, quieter, and more serious than you’ve ever heard it before. “Don’t leave, okay?”

You’re not really sure what he’s referring to. Leave this chair? Leave the Devildom? Leave him? But he’s raw and real and so fucking perfect staring up at you perfectly kissed like that and the answer comes to you without thinking.

“Never. I’m never leaving. I’m here for as long as you want me.”

Suddenly both of his arms are around your waist, drawing you close. Your face is pushed into his neck and his into yours. You breathe in the smell of his aftershave and shampoo and you’ve never felt more at home. Your hearts are pressed up against one another and you know you’ve never felt more right than in this moment.

The last thing you hear him whisper as you drift off to sleep for the first time in nearly a week is a whispered. “Always... I’m always going to want you, silly human.”

#obey me #obey me! shall we date?#obey me mammon #obey me mammon x reader #obey me mammon x mc #mammon x reader #mammon x oc #obey me imagine #obey me imagines #obey me fic #fic #0-2k

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theartofdreaming1 · 3 years

Photo

Slightly paraphrased, but Peeta talking about that moment he developed his crush on Katniss is just too sweet 😊

As usual, my thoughts regarding this week’s prompts and random thoughts on chapters 22-24 are below the cut (sprinkled in some psychology thoughts again).

heart

Honestly, I think the people in Panem would perceive the whole everlark storyline the same way we perceive and react to our ships on tv (desperately wanting to reach through the screen, shoving the characters forcefully together, screaming “And now, kiss!”); especially the Capitolites who barely recognize the tributes (or people in the districts, in general) as people. The people in the districts would definitely view the whole thing more under a “reality tv” kind of lens, questioning how much of the relationship is real or not (we know that Finnick certainly thought that the entire thing was just a spiel, until Peeta hit that forcefield). The time spent in the cave must have been pretty convincing, though.

mind

I think that Katniss is still torn here - On the one hand, she kind of wants to believe that Peeta is actually into her (remember the happiness she felt when Peeta told her how his crush on her began, and it all added up and seemed so real), but on the other hand she’s terrified of that possibility because A) lingering trauma from her mom’s depression in response the Mr. Everdeen’s death, B) Katniss never even considered falling in love, so that’s a sudden unexpected thing to deal with, and C) maybe it’s just for the sake of the Games; and wouldn’t that hurt, getting your hopes up only to learn it was only for show? (How about we ask Peeta about that?)

soul

Yeah, that quote about Peeta only eating stale bread also struck me as quite sad. It just further adds to his understanding how there should be more to life than just survival, though. (One day, I’ll make that post about Peeta, Katniss, and Maslow’s pyramid of needs, I swear! I’ve already gathered some research material)

Chapter 22

My mother’s hand strokes my cheek and I don’t push it away as I would in wakefulness, never wanting her to know how much I crave that gentle touch. How much I miss her even though I still don’t trust her. - Ugh, I can’t... Katniss misses her mom, misses being cared for😢 I’m so glad we’re going to see her patch up her relationship with her mom in CF... On a different note, Katniss craving that gentle touch just perfectly illustrates why she’s so drawn to Peeta, who is generally such a gentle soul (I mean, he’s literally the person stroking her cheek here 😊)

He [Peeta] doesn’t seem angry about my tricking him, drugging him, and running off to the feast. Maybe I’m just too beat-up and I’ll hear about it later when I’m stronger. But for the moment, he’s all gentleness. - As I was saying... 😉

“I’ll go hunting soon,” I say. “Not too soon, all right?” he says. “You just let me take care of you for a while.” - I love them so much😊🥰 And then Peeta makes sure she’s well-fed and hydrated, he rubs her cold feet and tucks her into the sleeping back... and she let’s him! 💗

“He [Thresh] let you go because he didn’t want to owe you anything?” asks Peeta in disbelief. “Yes. I don’t expect you to understand it. You’ve always had enough. But if you’d lived in the Seam, I wouldn’t have to explain,” I say. “And don’t try. Obviously I’m too dim to get it,” he says. - Oof. This exchange here is interesting in many ways: 1) it highlights their different experiences, tied to their different socioeconomic backgrounds, basically, and 2) that Katniss is very much aware of this difference, but we also see hints of her own ignorance here - because Peeta didn’t have to starve in his childhood, she thinks that he can’t possibly understand this level of hardship; but there are other ways in which one can suffer/lack fundamental needs, which brings us to 3) Peeta’s response about being “obviously too dim to get it”; I think this is a clue to his mom being also verbally abusive towards him: she called him “stupid creature” when he burnt those loaves of bread for Katniss and when he’s losing it in the attic of the Justice Building in D11 in CF he is mad that Katniss and Haymitch keep things from him “like [he’s] too inconsequential or stupid or weak to handle them”, which - to me - sounds like he’s tired of being treated that way (i.e. the way his mother treats him)

“I want to go home, Peeta,” I say plaintively, like a a small child. - God, this is a teenager in a murder-arena who feels like wanting to go home is a childish notion instead of a totally legitimate wish for anyone in that situation, regardless of age 😢

It’s not that Peeta’s soft exactly, and he’s proved he’s not a coward. But there are things you don’t question too much, I guess, when your home always smells like baking bread, whereas Gale questions everything. What would Peeta think of the irreverent banter that passes between us as we break the law each day? Would it shock him? The things we say about Panem? Gale’s tirades against the Capitol? - Geez, Katniss, give Peeta some credit here! A) It’s not like Peeta can walk around District 12 talking publicly about the injustices happening there - she and Peeta hadn’t even talked with each other before the reaping, whereas Gale is her best friend who rants to her while they are outside the confines of D12 and B) Peeta is literally the one who introduced the whole “not a piece in their Games”-idea to her; why would he be clutching his pearls over Katniss and Gale’s irreverent banter?! Just because Peeta didn’t live on the brink of starvation (she again brings up how his house smells like bread and - at this point - still thinks that the family running the bakery actually gets to eat what they produce just like that), doesn’t mean he doesn’t see how shitty life in D12 is - he can still want better conditions for those who are worse off than him!

“I did do the right thing,” I say. “No! Just don’t, Katniss!” His grip tightens, hurting my hand, and there’s real anger in his voice. “Don’t die for me. You won’t be doing me any favors. All right?” - Well, we’ll see this song and dance again in CF...

And while I was talking, the idea of actually losing Peeta hit me again and I realized how much I don’t want him to die. [...] And it’s not about what will happen back home. And it’s not just that I don’t want to be alone. It’s him. I do not want to lose the boy with the bread.” - I wish CF Katniss would remember this moment when she is questioning her motives about saving Peeta’s life in the arena - You. Care. For. This. Boy! You. Value. Him. For. Who. He. Is!!!

This is the first kiss that we’re both fully aware of. [...] This is the first kiss where I actually feel stirring inside my chest. Warm and curious. This is the first kiss that makes me want another. - Whoo! Is it hot in here or is it just me? 😉

I’m struck by his immediacy now. As we settle in, he pulls my head down to use his arm as a pillow; the other rests protectively over me even when he goes to sleep. No one has held me like this in such a long time. Since my father died and I stopped trusting my mother, no one else’s arms have made me feel this safe. - He makes her feel safe in a murder-arena!!! 😭 This is the kind of stuff that makes everlark just a top tier romance, tbh

Peeta telling Katniss about his crush starting on their first day of school 🥰😭 - and her reaction to it... For a moment, I’m almost foolishly happy - yes, because you have a crush on him, too! - and then confusion sweeps over me. Because we’re supposed to be making up this stuff [...] So, if those details are true... could it all be true? - YESSSSSSSS!!!

“You have a... remarkable memory, “ I say haltingly. - as a severely socially awkward person... I felt that lame response in my bones 😅

“You don’t have much competition anywhere.” And this time, it’s me who leans in. - God, this would be such an amazing moment if it didn’t get tainted by that immediate sponsor gift, which just serves to muddle Katniss’s feelings with her sense of survival, further complicating her relationship with Peeta... *sigh*

Chapter 23

“What was that you were saying just before the food arrived? Something about me... no competition... best thing that ever happened to you...” “I don’t remember that last part,” I say, hoping it’s too dim in here for the cameras to pick up my blush. “Oh, that’s right. That’s what I was thinking,” he says. - Peeta is the master of being a cheeky little shit and adorable flirt at the same time

“So, since we were five, you never even noticed any other girls?” I ask him. “No, I noticed just about every girl, but none of them made a lasting impression but you,” he says. - I appreciate that while Peeta has had a crush on Katniss forever, he clearly didn’t spend the entire time pining after her, oblivious to the rest of the world - he has a life outside of Katniss Everdeen, but ultimately, it all lead back to her

A disturbing thought hits me. “But then, our only neighbor will be Haymitch!” “Ah, that’ll be nice,” says Peeta, tightening his arms around me. “You and me and Haymitch. Very cozy. Picnics, birthdays, long winter nights around the fire retelling old Hunger Games tales.” “I told you, he hates me!” I say, but I can’t help laughing at the image of Haymitch becoming my new pal. - Laugh all you want, this is going to end up being your future anyway 😄

He [Haymitch]’s at something of a disadvantage because most mentors have a partner, another victor to help them whereas Haymitch has to bready to go into action at any moment. Kind of like me when I was alone in the arena. I wonder how he’s holding up, with the drinking, the attention, and the stress of tring to keep us alive. - Katniss is already worrying about her “new pal”, I see ;)

Maybe he [Haymitch] wasn’t always a drunk. Maybe, in the beginning, he tried to help the tributes. But then it got unbearable. It must be hell to mentor two kids and then watch them die. - Honestly, that sounds absolutely awful...

Poor, Katniss, when she learns of Thresh’s death :( - But no one will understand my sorrow at Thresh’s murder. - It’s horrible how compassion and basic human decency gets construed as ‘weakness’ in the world of Hunger Games (esp. the Capitol)

Then I escape into sleep, comforted by a full belly and the steady warmth of Peeta beside me. - Honestly, I think a word analysis of THG-series could be interesting; how often does Katniss mention “warmth”, “steady/steadiness” “safe/safety/security” in connection with “Peeta”?

“We make a goat cheese and apple tart at the bakery,” he says. “Bet that’s expensive,” I say. “Too expensive for my family to eat. Unless it’s gone very stale. Of course, practically everything we eat is stale,” says Peeta [...] Huh. I always assumed the shopkeepers live a soft life. And it’s true, Peeta has always had enough to eat. But there’s something kind of depressing about living your life on stale bread - Katniss is starting to realize that the lives of the merchants isn’t a cushy as she thought; also, in a way, we see a “prettier” version of how Panem treats the districts overall -> feeding the districts just enough that they can do their work (plus/minus a couple of people who’ll die of starvation, but at a small, for Capitolites insignificant margin), but not so much that they are in good shape to rebel; here, the merchants of D12 have just enough that they can live a “decent” life (they know it could be worse -> the Seam), but they don’t have enough to live a free, comfortable, self-determined life either. This also just further drives a wedge between the inhabitants of D12 (the merchants won’t want to rebel because they don’t want to get ‘demoted’ in their lifestyle, starving like the people from the Seam, and the Seam folk feel resentful towards the merchant people, while also not having the resources to rebel, due to their awful socioeconomic conditions)

What would be my life like on a daily basis? Most of it has been consumed with the acquisition of food. Take that away and I’m not really sure who I am, what my identity is. - It’s so sad who Katniss has been so consumed with ensuring that her most base needs are fulfilled that she barely has had the time to really figure out who she is and what she wants from life (If we’re talking Maslow’s pyramid of needs, Katniss would primarily be stuck on the lowest tier 😢)

At least, we’ll be friends, I think. Nothing will change the fact that we’ve saved each other’s lives in here. And beyond that, he will always be the boy with the bread. Good friends. - Honestly, Katniss counting on being good friends with Peeta after the Games is the highest honor she can bestow on him at that moment (she’s so into him, lol); of course, knowing that their relationship is going to be a bit rocky once they’ve come back makes this thought a little sad... but we also know they’ll make up (and out ;) in the future

Peeta licking his plate and blowing a kiss out to Effie is such an adorable goofball-moment 😊

I cover his mouth with my hand, but I’m laughing. “Stop! Cato could be right outside our cave.” He grabs my hand away. “What do I care? I’ve got you to protect me now,” says Peeta, pulling me to him. - This moment would be so cute (also, Peeta’s so confident in Katniss’s skills to protect him, which is adorable - toxic masculinity who?) but... Ugh, he’s just so giddy here, it kind of breaks my heart for when he learns later that (at least some) of Katniss’s reactions were just for show

“If we want food, we better head back up to my old hunting grounds,” I say. “Your call, Just tell me what you need me to do,” Peeta says. - Love how Peeta’s always ready to follow Katniss’s lead :)

Ideally, I’d dump Peeta now with some simple root-gathering chore and go hunt [...] “Katniss,” he says. “We need to split up. I know I’m chasing away the game.” [...] “Show me some plants to gather and that way we’ll both be useful.” - Teamwork! If it weren’t for Katniss worrying for Peeta’s safety, they’d be on the same page here

“What if you climbed up in a tree and acted as a lookout while I haunted?” I say, trying to make it sound like very important work. “What if you show me what’s edible around here and go get us some meat?” he says, mimicking my tone. - I really like how Peeta’s challenges Katniss here; he doesn’t just go along with everything she says, while still being quite reasonable

I feel like I’m eleven, again, tethered not to the safety of the fence but to Peeta, allowing myself twenty, maybe thirty yards of hunting space. [...] I allow myself to drift farther away, and soon have two rabbits and a fat squirrel to show for it. - I don’t know, but Katniss feeling tethered to Peeta makes me think of Mary Ainsworth’s attachment theory, according to which children with a secure attachment to their primary caregiver use their “attachment figure as a safe base to explore the environment”... Of course, Ainsworth’s Strange Situation was conducted with young children, but attachment styles are supposed to influence the relationships we form with people in our later lives as well (including romantic relationships)... I dunno, just a random association that popped into my brain 😅

Chapter 24

Peeta’s a whiz with fires, coaxing a blaze out of the damp wood. - Heh, Peeta sure knows how to handle fire, huh, Katniss (or should I say: Girl on Fire?) 😏

I order him into the sleeping bag and set aside the rest of his food for him when he wakes. He drops off immediately. I pull the sleeping bag up to his chin and kiss his forehead, not for the audience, but for me. Because I’m so greateful that he’s still here, not dead by the stream as I’d thought. - Aww, this is so sweet (and domestic)!

It’s funny. I feel almost as if it’s the first day of the Games again. That I’m in the same position. [...] But no, there’s the boy waiting beside me. I feel his arms wrap around me. - They are a team! Katniss doesn’t have to face the horrors of the Games alone anymore! It keeps boiling down to this.

#thgagain #thg #hunger games #katniss everdeen #peeta mellark #thg meta #my sketches and drawings #everlark

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dialovers-translations · 3 years

Text

Diabolik Lovers DARK FATE ー Ayato [VAMPIRE ENDING]

Monologue

ーー Screams echo through the castle halls.

No, not just inside the castle either.

When we stepped outside,

I realized those sounds were coming from all across the Demon World.

The final thing,

Karlheinz-san left behind...

It was a new world,

where a newborn species would live.

This world does not need demons nor humans.

Therefore, he will end them.

My body would not stop shaking.

However, I managed to keep going,

because Ayato-kun was there besides me.

His kindness transmitted through our connected hands,

is what pulled me back,

right before I got swallowed by the dark pits of despairーー

Male Vampire A: Gyaaaah!

Female Vampire A: No...Nooooooo!!

ー The scene shifts to the burning forest

Yui: Oh no...!! This is horrible...!!

Ayato: Is this...Is this the world he wished for?

All for this sake...!

New race, my ass. Fuck all of this...

Yui: Ayato-kun...

???: Ayato-kun! Bitch-chan!!

Ayato: ...!?

Yui: ( This voiceーー )

ー The other Sakamaki’s approach them

Ayato: You guys...

...Look at that. Still refusin’ to die, huh?

Laito: Nfu~ Of course we’re alive.

Kanato: I actually agree with Laito for once. We are not that weak to be done in by a few flames.

Ayato: Heh...Guess that’s true.

Yui: ( Thank god...I’m so glad to see everyone alive...! )

Reiji: More importantly...What is going on? The evening gala’s entire venue has gone up in flames.

Subaru: Che...There’s piles of corpses everywhere you look.

Yui: ( No way... )

Reiji: So? Where is Father? We must update him on the status quo.

Ayato: That...won’t be necessary.

Reiji: ...What do you mean?

Ayato: He died.

Reiji: ...

Shuu: ...Died?

Ayato: Yeah.

Reiji: This is not the time to joke around...

There is no way that man would die.

Ayato: It’s not a joke. He’s no longer around.

...And it was exactly what he wished for.

Reiji: ...

Ayato: Also...Kanato, Laito.

Kanato: Yes?

Ayato: Mom died as well.

Kanato: ...

Laito: ...I see...Okay...

???: That man...has passed away...?

ー The Mukami’s appear

Ruki: In that case...Sakamaki Ayato. Does that mean...You are Adam?

Yui: ( ...Did the Mukami’s know about this as well, perhaps...? )

Azusa: Eve...Ayato-san turned out...to be your Adam, huh...?

Kou: ...We...

Yuma: ...Ugh.

Reiji: Adam? What exactly are you talking about? Explain this at once!!

Yui: Wellーー

Monologue

In the following minutes,

we told them everything which had happened up till now.

Including the full details,

on the plan their Father - Karlheinz-san - wished for.

And thenーー

Reiji: ...Unbelievable...You claim that was Father’s wish...?

Ruki: And Adam and Eve were born right now...

Ayato: Adam? Eve? My ass!

I’m Yours Truly and Chichinashi is Chichinashi! Simple as that.

Shuu: ...Sounds like something you would say...

And? What are we going to do now? We can’t just sit around and do nothing forever, can we?

Ruki: We’re returning to the human world. Then I can think, about my path in life...

Kou: You mean ‘ours’, right?

Yuma: Exactly. Don’t talk as if you’re all by yerself now.

Ruki: ...You guys...

Azusa: ...Ruki...It’s just like they said. We’re brothers, remember?

Ruki: ...Yeah, you’re right.

There you have it...So long.

ー The Mukami’s leave

Yui: ( ...Guys... )

Ayato: They left...

Shuu: They sure did...I mean, it fits them so I see no problem? Pwaah...

ーー So, Ayato. What’s your plan?

Ayato: Well...

Yui: ( Right, we can’t stay stuck in place forever either. )

( We have to think about the future. )

Ayato: ...

I’ll stay here. With Yui by my side as well.

Yui: Ayato-kun...

Laito: Look at you talk, Ayato-kun! I’m impressed!

Kanato: ...Well, I suppose that’s fine. However, as you can see, Eden has been completely destroyed.

Ayato: ...Hehe. Oi oi, who do you think I am?

Don’t underestimate the Great Ayato-sama!

*WOOSH*

Yui: ( Ah...! Eden has stopped crumbling apart...? )

Reiji: ...I see.

If Father’s magic is what caused this destruction, then I suppose you can use your newly earned powers to stop it...?

Ayato: Haah, haah...I could have done this much with ease even without that jerk’s powers!

Subaru: ...I wonder...

Ayato: Aah!? What didya say!?

Reiji: Good grief...We just went through all of that, and look at you guys going at it again...

Yui: ( Reiji-san may say that but...I’m happy to have met up with everyone and be able to talk to them like this... )

Ayato: ...Tsk. ...Oi! Chichinashi!

Yui: Y-Yes!?

Ayato: Why do you look so relieved? Now that everything’s settled, you gotta get ready!

Women love that sorta stuff but they always take forever, don’t they?

Yui: Eh?

Ayato: Haah? You really don’t get it at all, do you?

Laito: Nfu~ You’re so dense, Bitch-chan.

It’s a little broken down, but when a guy asks you to live together in a castle like Eden...

There’s only one thing that could imply, right?

Yui: ...Um...

Ayato: Aah, god! You know...

ーー I obviously mean we have to get everythin’ ready for the wedding ceremony!

Yui: ...!

The two of us will...?

Ayato: Y-Yeah! I’ll make an exception for you. Only ‘cause I’ve got no other choice though!

Laito: ...Looks like someone can’t be honest with himself.

Ayato: Aah!? Excuse me!?

Laito: Oh, nothing~! Nfu~!

Yui: ( Ayato-kun and I will... )

( Oh no, this feels like a dream... )

Shuu: ...I mean, suit yourself.

Subaru: I don’t mind if that means less trouble for us.

Reiji: If you do not burden me, then please be my guest.

But, well...Since I am the only person here with some common sense, allow me to say one thing.

ーー Congratulations.

Yui: ( Reiji-san... )

Ayato: I decided I’m gonna do this shit so l will, regardless of what you guys say!

Ah, right. I guess I wouldn’t mind employin’ you guys as my servants at the castle?

Reiji: I kindly refuse. Haah...I am leaving now.

Ayato: Aah? Where exactly?

Reiji: Does that matter?

Honestly...Any place will do.

Father is no longer around. In that case, I see no reason for me to stay here.

ー Reiji leaves

Ayato: That’s why I asked wheーー

Subaru: I’m dippin’ as well.

I didn’t exactly live with you guys out of my own free will anyway. See you.

ー Subaru leaves as well

Shuu: I’ll go too then...Pwaah...Guess I’ll finally get some peace and quiet...

ー Shuu follows suit

Yui: ( They all left. Which leaves... )

Ayato: What ‘bout you two?

Laito: Hmー Let me think. I guess I could stick around.

There’s so much fun to be had with a newlywed couple, don’t you think~? Right, Kanato-kun?

Kanato: I’m afraid I can’t agree. I’m leaving as well.

ー Kanato leaves

Laito: Eehー Boring! Oh well...I guess it can’t be helped this time.

See you~! Ah! Send me an invitation to the ceremony, okay~?

ー Laito follows after Kanato

Yui: Ah...

...They all left.

Ayato: Hmph! A huge weight lifted off my shoulders, honestly!

Now it’s finally just the two of uー Woah.

...

...Come on, let’s go.

Yui: Y-Yeah...!

ー Ayato steps closer

*Smooch*

Ayato: ...Nn...

Yui: Wha...!?

Ayato: Guess I’ll kiss you before that at least.

Yui: ...B-Before? You already did, Ayato-kun...

Ayato: Shush!

Well, I guess kisses aren’t half bad.

Okay! Now we’re headed off for real.

Yui: Yeah...!

Monologue

Ayato-kun pulled me by my hand,

as I once again faced Eden.

This place is currently in ruins.

However, in my eyes,

it looked more beautiful than anything.

I wonder why?

That question immediately disappeared from my mind.

The answer,

more than anything, or anyone,

was right next to me after allーー

Ayato: ーー Oi, why are you takin’ forever?

Come here already.

On certain CGs, little black roses will appear on the screen. If you click on them, you get an extra line of dialogue.

“I won’t let you go, no matter what happens. You better don’t take my love lightly.”

“I hope you made up your resolve when choosin’ me, Chichinashi? ...’Cause you’re mine forever now.”

Yui: ( Aah...What a peaceful day. )

( I’m so glad...Our ceremony is today. )

Ayato: Oi, whatcha thinkin’ ‘bout? Did you have other stuff on your mind when I’m here right in front of you?

Geez, I can never leave my guard down with you.

Yui: Fufu...Sorry...

Ayato: Hmph...

...Anyway...

Those guys just filled their belly and went on their merry ways afterwards. Same goes for those darn Mukami’s.

Who knows what those dudes have been up to this whole time, but for these occasions, they all show up all of a sudden.

Well, I guess it makes sense for them to show up, seein’ as I’m basically the King here now.

Yui: ( I wonder if I’m the only one...Who believes they’re actually looking out for us? )

Ayato: Oi, let me tell you, just in case.

Yui: Yes?

Ayato: I’m not with you ‘cause that’s part of his stupid plan.

Yui: Ayato-kun...

Ayato: I don’t give a damn ‘bout becomin’ the ‘saviors’ he talked of.

The Demon World’s a hot mess. But...

You’re right here in front of me.

That’s why I want to touch you. Want to embrace you.

Don’t want to let you go. Want you by my side...

In short, um...How do I say this...?

...

Aah, right!

ーー I love you, Yui.

...I love you...

No matter what becomes of the world, let’s be together.

That’s simply how I feel.

Yui: ( ...Ayato-kun... )

( I love you too. )

( From here on out, I’ll only ever trust you...and continue to love you. )

( Together...Forever... )

ーー THE END ーー

#diabolik lovers #dialovers #ayato sakamaki #dark fate #diabolik lovers translation #dfayatoending1

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villainsandvictimsalliance · 3 years

Note

Would you please give me headcanons about how shigadabi caught feeling for each other? Loosely sticking to canon if you can🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

That "loosely sticking to canon" is a little tricky for me. Why? Because in the canon I see them as two guys that find comfort in knowing that someone understands them and they are free to do as they please because the other won't stop them.

This is gonna be a long one and I apologize for it, but I love them so much. I can't help it.

Still, here are my headcanons 😈:

In the beginning, Dabi is never around and when he is, he's being mean and annoying in the background. Shigaraki doesn't tolerate him, but he respects him. Since they met, Shigaraki knew that boy wouldn't stop to achive what he wanted, just like himself.

There was a moment between them, the seed of something. Before the summer camp attack, Shigaraki called Dabi apart so he could set the nomu to respond to his voice and his voice only. You can imagine Shigaraki walking up to him, telling him to follow and Dabi being a piece of trash about it.

Shigaraki them tells him why he's needed out loud and turns around, already walking. The rest of the League complains or comments in the background but Dabi leaves them without a word. He's too busy thinking Tomura must be really stupid to trust him when he barely knows him. Or well he could— He could be smart enough to see through him?

With the years, Dabi has learned to be careful of those guys. He doesn't trust people, no exceptions. He prefers to think Tomura is an idiot.

Being honest, that was the minute Dabi decided he would try to read Tomura. He was he new boss, Dabi was only only being careful. Nothing more.

Let's keep the imaging.

Tomura sits and he unceremoniously calls the nomu, gives him some commands and tells Dabi to use his voice to give him the same commands. They do it a couple of times until Shigaraki is satisfied and Dabi is free to go.

For someone else watching, it was cold and professional. For them, it was kinda weird. There was a little tension than neither of them was acknowledging and there was a quietness, a silence Tomura was used to. It was weird because it felt like they were alone, because they were used to being alone, but somehow they were being alone together— with the freaking nomu. It felt like visiting the vet. Dabi didn't like it.

Time goes by. Things happen.

They have a silent agreement that marks Dabi as one of Shigaraki's commander. He's a special one tho, because apparently he can do whatever the he he wants. He says he's gonna recruit? Tomura approves it with a simple nod and that's it.

Since we have only seen Twice's apartment, I'm assuming here that the rest of the League lived in the bar with Kurogiri and Tomura. Which makes sense because they wouldn't have anywhere else to go.

The only times Shigaraki and Dabi are together is when Dabi occasionally return to their base for whatever reasons. It is loud and crowded so they don't get the chance to interact that much. What they can do is observe the other.

None of them is ashamed of doing it. They stare and stare back. The League plays it off because that's probably two idiots trying to assert dominance or some shit.

It's stupid and they only find out about useless things. What they like to drink, how they walk or react to certain things, what throws them off, what makes them happy... Things you'd know about your classmate.

Their interactions change after what happened in Kamino and the night Magne died.

Dabi was taken by surprise when he saw Tomura walking in. He was calm, collected, even more honest than usual. When he took the hand off his face, the whole room held their breath.

His features were delicate, even beneath all the scars and dry skin. He's eyes were gentle, which was scarier than his maniac look. They held blood and the promise of danger, but not to them. Dabi brushed it off later.

Dabi keeps being his sarcastic self. Shigaraki doesn't react that much. Their barriers are tight closed as ever. Except when...

Well, those nights. The ones they don't talk about. The ones when Dabi is drunk and Tomura is way too sleep deprived and they find themselves insulting the other in hushes. They're normally out of the League's hearing range, alone in some abandoned part of their actual base.

Catching feelings for the other is a good expression. It's like they're catching a cold or something viral by accident. You just have to be in the wrong place at the right time to get yourself infected.

Their minds are blurry and their hearts are feeling raw the first time they interact like that. It's like Dabi is nothing but a young man trying to find his way back home from some bar because he was done with his working week. Or maybe Tomura is a tired student who's been dealing with a lot of stress and it's feeling bare and naked with his hair floating around with the wind.

They look at each other like they always do. Like trying to solve a mystery. Like trying to put together a puzzle. Like trying to decipher a code you shouldn't be worried about, but it distracts you from the world so why not.

Tomura is the one who notices Dabi is bleeding. He points it out. Dabi shrugs and then Tomura just shakes his head and starts walking, Dabi following him, recognizing that face from being a silent command.

For the rest of the night, Dabi teaches Shigaraki how to fix his staples and Shigaraki does so, taking the hand away from his face for better care.

They wonder about the other. How can Tomura know so much about fighting when it looked like he always lived alone? Why was Dabi drinking something stronger than usual? Where his scars always there? Had he patched someone else before? Was Dabi used to other people patching him?

They go to sleep. When they wake up, the only think in their heads is this can't happen again. They got distracted. Distraction means getting softer. That's a no no for them.

Except it happens again. And again. Until it starts happening when they're sober and they know they're screwed. They shouldn't be feeling safe enough with each other to don't feel the need to say something. They shouldn't be on the non-verbal stage. They shouldn't be taking turns what the other sleep to keep guard. Shigaraki shouldn't know where Dabi is most of the time, in case he wants to go and visit him in secret. The League doesn't know where they go most of the time, anyway.

If you're looking for a phrase to prove they have caught feelings for the other, you have no luck. They don't trust words, because most words are lies. But they can't lie when they look into each other's eyes

And against all odds, it changes nothing. No one suspects a thing, no one can sees them. Of course, what is there to see? Nothing at all. Just a king and his commander. Or maybe, just two guys sharing what's not there.

Because there's nothing there. If Dabi craves Tomura's fingers on his back, it's only because he's hurt again. If Tomura longs for waking up to the sound of Dabi's smoking by the window, it's because that means he doesn't have to sleep for a least a while now.

Dabi looks at Tomura across the room and thinks It's like catching a cold. It's gonna go away. A cold won't distract him from his revenge. When the time comes, he won't think about Tomura. And he's right. It's just a cold. Tomura is happy is just a cold too.

Ah, there's a problem, one we know but they forgot. It is too easy to catch a cold. They come back with the season, when we're vulnerable and cold. And if you catch enough colds and you don't cure them properly, it can become something worst. More permanent. More deadly.

For what they want, I hope they're being careful. Sure, they're fine right now, healthy, they talk and laugh and plan and murder. Do they sleep well at night? When they're hearts are freezing and they are too drunk or too sleep deprived, do they still go to each other? When their brains won't stop working, would the miss those nights? Would they wonder? Would they wish? We see only the surface, but beyond their walls...

Are they badly sick? Oh. Are they... Maybe.... No, of course not, but... When no one sees them, when no one talks, when they don't have to be something else, when they can just exists... When the remember their voices echoing in that room, that time, first time alone, just a nomu and their stares...

And sometimes, they'd look into each other's eyes just to make sure they still know how to do it. And they go crazy, becuase they must be doing somethinf wrong.

It is not an I won't see you die under my watch, so don't die until I'm back and it is not an I'll be taking care of myself too, so don't complain and it is not an prove it, come back safe and sound, come back to me.

That's not what they say. That's not what it means.

And still.

Red eyes.

Blue eyes.

And silence.

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