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chalkscene · 2 years

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tokyo revengers ⇢ YOU CALL THEM “FRIEND”

ft. ken “draken” ryuguji, shinichiro sano, rindou haitani, ran haitani & shuji hanma

warnings: none but also tr 268 got me fucked up so i guess i’ll start writing for shin too

“yeah, i’m with a friend.” DRAKEN never eavesdrops but when he hears you refer to him as a friend, he immediately stops whatever he’s doing and throws you a glance over his shoulder to check if you’re serious—there you are, still propped up on his worktable as you carry on with the conversation on your phone. he barely catches a word you say as your voice has now dropped inaudibly but there’s a smile on your face. a smile. some goddamn nerve you have, he thinks. soon you hang up, hopping off the table before walking over to him. “baby, can you drive me home?” “can’t. i’m closing the shop tonight,” he answers curtly. “but you promised.” draken can detect the pout in your voice but right now, he’s not sure if it’s endearing or annoying. “too bad. why don’t you call inupi, your other friend? maybe he can give you a ride.” “wh-“ you don’t get the chance to convince your boyfriend as he abruptly turns away, forcing you to put an end to your stupid prank—you did not expect him to be this pissed off about it. “oh my god, ken. i was joking!”

SHINICHIRO loves casual intimacy. a huge sucker for it, even. but when he hears you on a call with someone talking about him—your friend, apparently, he’s too cautious to even hold your hand. “are we not supposed to tell people about us?” he hesitantly asks the instant you hang up the phone, “cause i may have told some of my friends…” despite your heart being sent aflutter, you try to stay in character but it quickly becomes unbearable when your boyfriend looks at you with clear guilt in his eyes. “but it’s okay,” shinichiro adds, “they can keep a secret... i think.” you’re mentally forming consoling words to tell him when he continues to ramble, a frown now creasing his eyebrows as he curses to himself. “fuck. i’m sorry, i should’ve asked-” “shin, i was kidding.” “huh?” “it was a prank.” “oh.” you giggle at his dumbfounded expression but he doesn’t return the sentiment. instead, he pouts, “that wasn’t funny.” taking his face in your hands, you smoothen the wrinkle on his forehead with a kiss before pressing your lips against his. “don’t worry. my friends know about you, too.”

“i’m on my way home… yeah... my friend’s driving me… okay. love you. bye.” RINDOU remains quiet as he listens to your words but had it been broad daylight, you would’ve seen the way his knuckles are almost white from how tightly he’s gripping the steering wheel. as soon as he pulls up in front of your house, he shifts the gear to park rather harshly which catches you off guard. “rin?” “what the hell was that?” his voice is low but there’s an obvious bite to it, “calling me friend then saying you love someone else?“ “yeah. my mom.” he simply blinks at your response. “what?” “that was my mom,” you reiterate. “then why did you call me friend? i thought she knows about us.” “she does,” you say with a chuckle in spite of your very evidently unamused boyfriend, “i was just messing with you. i didn’t think you’d be mad.” you reach over the console, gently taking his hand. “if it makes you feel better, i’ll tell her it was a joke and you were the friend. she loves you.” “at least one of you does,” he mutters, making you flick his forehead. “i loved you first.”

RAN is requesting for the tab when he hears you refer to him as friend to whoever it is you’re on the phone with. two can play at that game, he smugly thinks. so he pretends to not have heard you, reading over the receipt once it’s been placed on your table. he’s just inserted the bills into the holder when you put your phone away and as you count the banknotes, you realize they only cover his order. “i wouldn’t have ordered so much if i knew i was paying for myself,” you mumble as you rummage through your purse for your wallet. “i don’t even pay for rindou’s dinner,” ran shrugs, “let alone a friend.” your boyfriend doesn’t say anything else but a smirk begins to curl on his lips when you only gape at him. “it was a prank, ran.” “that’s what i thought.” you shoot him a scowl which he returns with a wink, grinning at you in self-satisfaction as he puts his money back into his wallet and takes out his black card.

“if by boyfriend, you mean my friend who’s a boy then yes, i’m with my boyfriend.” from the corner of your eye, you see HANMA snap his head in your direction and you have to bite the inside of your cheek to contain your laughter. as soon as you pull your phone away from your ear, your boyfriend sidles up to you. “so i’ve been demoted to ‘friend who’s a boy’? baby, you’re breaking my heart.” “you have a heart?” you say with a mock expression of surprise on your face before cracking a smile which hanma reciprocates. “i’m just teasing. i love you, shuji.” you’re about to reach for his hand when he beats you to it, curling your fingers until they form a fist and he bumps it with his own. “love you too brah!”

#tokrev #tokyo rev #tokyo revengers #tokrev x reader #tokyo rev x reader #tokyo revengers x reader #ken ryuguji #draken x reader #shinichiro sano #shinichiro x reader #rindou haitani #rindou x reader #ran haitani #ran x reader #hanma shuji #hanma x reader

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estapa-edwards · 1 month

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I MISS YOU, IM SORRY PT 2 - J. HUGHES

paring: Jack Hughes x fem! reader

word count: 3.7k

requested? yes -i NEED a pt 2 to i miss you, im sorry! 🤍

warnings: use of y/n.

pt. 1

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As I stared at the glowing screen of my phone, Jack's message seemed to jump out at me, stirring a flurry of conflicting emotions within. It had been a few weeks since we last spoke, and despite my efforts to move on, his presence still lingered in the corners of my mind like an echo that refused to fade.

"I miss you."

Those three simple words carried a weight that threatened to pull me back into the depths of nostalgia, where memories of our time together danced in the shadows of my thoughts. I never knew I could miss somebody this much, I reflected, feeling the ache in my chest intensify with each passing moment.

A few weeks ago, I stumbled upon a photo on social media – Jack with his new girlfriend. She bore a striking resemblance to me, with her long dark hair and piercing blue eyes. It was as if he had found a replacement for me, someone who could fill the void I had left behind.

At first, the discovery had filled me with a strange mixture of jealousy and resentment. How could he move on so quickly, as if I had never meant anything to him? But as I scrolled through their pictures, I realized that perhaps it was for the best. He deserved to be happy, even if it meant finding happiness with someone else.

And so, I made the difficult decision to keep my distance, to refrain from responding to his message. It wasn't out of spite or malice, but out of a sense of self-preservation. I couldn't bear to reopen old wounds, to subject myself to the pain of seeing him move on with someone else.

Despite my resolve to keep my distance from Jack, there was one connection I couldn't sever – my friendship with his brother, Luke. We had formed a bond that transcended the complexities of Jack's love life, spending countless hours together sharing stories, laughter, and the occasional pint of ice cream.

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Despite living under the same roof, Jack's presence in our shared space had dwindled in recent weeks. His busy schedule and newfound relationship kept him away more often than not, leaving Luke and me to our own devices. It was during these moments of solitude that I found solace in Luke's company, grateful for his unwavering support and understanding.

As the days turned into weeks, my visits to Luke's room became a regular occurrence – a sanctuary where I could escape the chaos of my own thoughts and find solace in the familiar warmth of his company. We would spend hours talking about everything and nothing, laughing at inside jokes and sharing stories from our past.

But no matter how much I tried to bury my feelings for Jack, there were moments when his absence weighed heavily on my heart. Sometimes, in the midst of our conversations, I would catch myself drifting off, lost in a sea of memories that threatened to pull me under.

It was during one of these moments that Luke caught me staring off into the distance, a concerned expression etched upon his features.

"Hey, you okay?" he asked, his voice laced with genuine concern.

I forced a smile, pushing aside the ache in my chest as I nodded in response. "Yeah, just lost in thought."

But Luke wasn't convinced, his piercing gaze seeing through the façade I had erected around myself. He knew me better than anyone, could sense when something was weighing on my mind.

"Is it Jack?" he ventured, his words hanging in the air between us like an unspoken truth.

I hesitated, unsure of how much to reveal. But in the end, I knew I couldn't keep it bottled up inside any longer – not from Luke, my confidant and closest friend.

"Yeah," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. "I miss him."

There was a sadness in Luke's eyes as he reached out and squeezed my hand in silent understanding. He knew all too well the pain of unrequited love, the ache of longing for someone who was just out of reach.

"I know it's hard," he murmured, his voice filled with empathy. "But you're stronger than you think, Y/N. And no matter what happens, I'll always be here for you."

His words brought a sense of comfort, a reminder that I wasn't alone in my struggles. With Luke by my side, I felt as though I could weather any storm, no matter how fierce.

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I was just about to leave Luke's room one afternoon when I heard the sound of footsteps approaching from down the hall. Before I could react, the door swung open, revealing Jack standing in the doorway, a surprised expression on his face.

"Hey," he greeted, his voice tentative. "I didn't realize you were here."

I felt a pang of discomfort at the sight of him, memories of our past rushing back to the surface with a vengeance. It was as if time stood still in that moment, the weight of our shared history pressing down upon us like a heavy blanket.

"I was just leaving," I replied, my voice barely above a whisper.

There was an awkward tension in the air as I gathered my things and made my way towards the door, desperate to escape the suffocating atmosphere that surrounded us. But before I could make my escape, Jack spoke up, his voice filled with uncertainty.

"Y/N, wait," he called out, his words stopping me in my tracks.

I turned to face him, my heart pounding in my chest as I braced myself for whatever was to come.

As Jack's words hung in the air, a sinking feeling settled in the pit of my stomach. The anticipation that had built up inside me came crashing down like a wave, leaving behind a sense of emptiness that threatened to consume me whole.

"Actually, never mind."

With those three simple words, he shattered the fragile hope that had flickered to life within me, leaving nothing but a hollow ache in their wake. I stood there in stunned silence, unable to comprehend the sudden shift in our interaction.

Before I could gather my thoughts or muster a response, Jack turned on his heel and disappeared into his room, leaving me standing alone in the hallway, my heart heavy with disappointment and regret.

Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes as I struggled to make sense of what had just happened. Had I imagined the connection between us, the unspoken bond that had once held us together? Or had he simply grown tired of playing games, choosing to retreat behind the walls he had built around himself?

I wanted to scream, to lash out at him for the pain he had caused me with his thoughtless words. But deep down, I knew that it wouldn't change anything – that the distance between us was a chasm too wide to bridge, no matter how much I longed for things to be different.

With a heavy sigh, I turned away from his door and made my way down the hallway, each step echoing the rhythm of my broken heart. It was a painful reminder of the harsh realities of love – that sometimes, no matter how much we wish for things to work out, the universe has other plans in store for us.

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No matter how hard I tried to avoid Jack, it seemed like fate had other plans in store for us. No matter where I turned, he was there – a constant presence in my life, a reminder of the love we had shared and the pain we had endured.

It felt as though the universe was playing a cruel joke on me, taunting me with his presence at every turn. Whether it was bumping into him in the hallway, catching a glimpse of him across the crowded room, or hearing his laughter echoing through the walls of our shared home, there was no escaping the inevitable.

Each encounter served as a painful reminder of what could have been, dredging up memories of happier times and igniting the embers of longing that still smoldered within me. No matter how much time had passed, the wounds he had left behind remained raw and tender, refusing to heal in his absence.

And yet, despite the pain it caused me, there was a part of me that couldn't help but be drawn to him – to the warmth of his smile, the kindness in his eyes, the way he made me feel alive with just a simple touch.

But I knew that giving in to those feelings would only lead to more heartache in the end. I had made a promise to myself to move on, to let go of the past and embrace the possibilities of the future. And even though it was difficult, I knew that I had to stay true to myself, no matter how tempting the allure of Jack's presence may be.

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I stood in the kitchen, lost in the comforting routine of chopping vegetables and stirring simmering pots on the stove. The rhythmic clatter of knives against cutting boards filled the air, a soothing melody that helped to drown out the noise of my thoughts.

But just as I was beginning to lose myself in the familiar motions of cooking, a sharp knock on the door shattered the illusion of calm, jolting me back to reality with a start.

My heart skipped a beat as I glanced towards the entrance, a sense of apprehension knotting in the pit of my stomach. It couldn't be, I told myself, my mind racing with a million possibilities.

With cautious steps, I made my way towards the door, each footfall echoing the rapid rhythm of my heartbeat. As I reached out to grasp the doorknob, a sense of dread washed over me, the weight of uncertainty pressing down upon my shoulders like a heavy burden.

And then, with a trembling hand, I swung the door open – and there he stood, Jack, his presence filling the doorway like a looming shadow against the fading light of dusk.

For a moment, neither of us spoke, the silence stretching between us like a taut wire. His eyes searched mine, a mixture of emotions swirling within their depths – regret, longing, and something else, something I couldn't quite name.

"Hey," he greeted, his voice soft and tentative. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything."

I swallowed hard, the lump in my throat threatening to choke me as I struggled to find my voice. "No, not at all," I managed to reply, my words coming out in a breathless whisper.

There was a tension in the air, palpable and charged with unspoken emotion. It was as if time stood still in that moment, the world narrowing down to just the two of us, suspended in a fragile bubble of uncertainty.

And then, without a word, Jack stepped forward, closing the distance between us in a single stride. His presence enveloped me like a warm embrace, his scent familiar and intoxicating all at once.

"I've missed you," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. "More than you'll ever know."

His words hung in the air between us, heavy with unspoken implications. I couldn't deny the surge of conflicting emotions that washed over me at his confession. Part of me wanted to believe him, to hold onto the hope that our connection was still strong despite the obstacles that stood in our way.

But another part of me couldn't ignore the bitter reality of his words – he had a girlfriend. The thought stung like a fresh wound, reopening the scars of heartache that had barely begun to heal.

"Did you actually miss me, because you had a girlfriend?" I asked, my voice tinged with a mixture of hurt and disbelief.

There was a flicker of guilt in Jack's eyes as he met my gaze, a silent admission of the truth I already knew deep down. "I did," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "But it wasn't the same. She's not you, Y/N."

His words cut through me like a knife, reopening old wounds and igniting a firestorm of emotions within me. How could he expect me to believe him, to trust in his feelings when he had chosen to be with someone else?

"I don't know if I can do this, Jack," I confessed, my voice trembling with emotion. "I can't be just another option, waiting for you to decide if I'm worth choosing."

Jack's words hung in the air between us, a fragile bridge spanning the chasm of uncertainty that had grown between us. His confession stirred a whirlwind of conflicting emotions within me, tearing at the walls I had built around my heart in an effort to protect myself from further pain.

"You know how much you mean to me. The whole time I was with her, I wished it was you instead."

His words echoed in the depths of my soul, resonating with a truth that I couldn't deny. Despite the hurt and betrayal I felt, there was a part of me that longed to believe him, to cling to the hope that our love was still worth fighting for.

But the wounds he had inflicted ran deep, leaving scars that would forever mar the landscape of our relationship. Could I truly trust him again, knowing that he had chosen someone else over me?

"I want to believe you, Jack," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. "But I don't know if I can. Trust isn't something that can be easily regained."

There was a heaviness in the air as we stood there, caught in the gravity of our shared pain and regret. For a moment, it felt as though time stood still, the world narrowing down to just the two of us, suspended in a fragile bubble of uncertainty.

And then, without a word, Jack reached out and took my hand in his, his touch gentle yet filled with a quiet determination.

"I understand," he murmured, his voice tinged with regret. "But please, just give me a chance to make things right. I'll do whatever it takes to earn back your trust."

Tears glistened in my eyes as I listened to Jack's plea, his words reaching deep into the recesses of my heart. Despite the pain and uncertainty that still lingered between us, there was a part of me that wanted to believe him – to believe that we could find a way to heal the wounds of the past and move forward together.

But as much as I yearned for reconciliation, I knew that I couldn't ignore the doubts and fears that gnawed at the edges of my resolve. Trust wasn't something that could be easily regained, and I wasn't sure if I was ready to take that leap of faith just yet.

"I appreciate your honesty, Jack," I replied, my voice steady despite the storm raging within me. "But I think we need some time apart – time to figure things out on our own."

There was a flicker of disappointment in Jack's eyes, a silent acknowledgment of the reality of our situation. He knew as well as I did that our relationship couldn't be repaired overnight, that it would take time and effort on both of our parts to rebuild what had been broken.

"I understand," he murmured, his voice tinged with regret. "But please, just know that I'll always be here for you, no matter what."

I nodded, a bittersweet smile tugging at the corners of my lips. "And I'll always be here for you too, Jack. But for now, let's just focus on being friends."

There was a sense of relief that washed over me as I spoke those words, a weight lifting from my shoulders as I embraced the possibility of a new beginning. It wouldn't be easy, and there were sure to be challenges ahead, but I knew that as long as we had each other, we could weather any storm that came our way.

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In the weeks that followed our heart-to-heart conversation, Jack and I embarked on a journey of rediscovery – one that would test the boundaries of our friendship and pave the way for a new chapter in our lives.

With each passing day, we grew closer, our bond strengthened by shared laughter, heartfelt conversations, and moments of quiet companionship. We spent hours exploring the city together, revisiting old haunts and discovering new ones, each adventure bringing us one step closer to understanding ourselves and each other.

There were moments when the pain of the past threatened to resurface, old wounds reopening with a raw intensity that left us both reeling. But instead of turning away from each other, we leaned in – offering comfort, support, and a shoulder to lean on when the weight of the world became too much to bear.

Slowly but surely, the walls we had built around ourselves began to crumble, revealing the vulnerable hearts that lay beneath. We shared our hopes and dreams, our fears and insecurities, laying bare the pieces of ourselves that we had long kept hidden from the world.

And in those moments of vulnerability, we found strength – strength in each other, in the unspoken understanding that bound us together, and in the knowledge that no matter what the future held, we would face it together, as friends.

As the days turned into weeks, I found myself grateful for the opportunity to rebuild our friendship from the ground up, to forge a connection that was deeper and more meaningful than anything we had ever shared before.

Amidst the hustle and bustle of our daily lives, there were moments when Jack and I found ourselves drawn together by an invisible force – moments of quiet intimacy that left us both breathless with the realization of just how deeply we had come to care for each other.

It was in the small gestures – a lingering touch, a shared glance, a smile that spoke volumes – that our bond grew stronger, weaving a tapestry of connection that defied explanation.

One evening, as we sat side by side on the couch, engrossed in a movie marathon, I felt Jack's hand brush against mine, sending a jolt of electricity coursing through my veins. It was a simple touch, yet it spoke volumes – a silent reassurance that we were in this together, no matter what.

In that moment, I found myself leaning into his touch, craving the warmth and comfort it offered. And as our fingers intertwined, a sense of peace washed over me, filling the room with a quiet serenity that spoke of the deep bond we shared.

There were other moments too – moments of shared laughter and inside jokes, of stolen glances and secret smiles – each one a testament to the depth of our connection and the growing affection we held for each other.

And as the weeks turned into months, I found myself falling for Jack in ways I never thought possible, his presence a constant source of joy and comfort in my life.

But amidst the growing closeness between us, there lingered a sense of hesitation – a fear of crossing boundaries that had long been established, of risking the fragile equilibrium of our friendship for the sake of something more.

And so, we treaded carefully, tiptoeing around the unspoken tension that simmered beneath the surface, content to bask in the warmth of each other's company while keeping our true feelings carefully guarded.

But deep down, I couldn't help but wonder – what if? What if we took a chance on love, risking everything for the possibility of something beautiful and true?

As the days passed and our friendship continued to blossom, I could sense a shift in the air – a tension that crackled with unspoken emotions, threatening to burst forth at any moment. And it was during one quiet evening, as we sat together on the balcony, that Jack finally found the courage to speak the words that had been weighing heavily on his heart.

"Y/N, there's something I need to say," he began, his voice soft yet tinged with a hint of urgency. "I've been doing a lot of thinking lately, and I realize that I owe you an apology."

I turned to face him, my curiosity piqued by the solemn tone of his voice. "What for?" I asked, my heart racing in anticipation of what was to come.

"For everything," he replied, his gaze never wavering from mine. "For hurting you, for taking you for granted, for not realizing sooner what you mean to me."

His words washed over me like a wave, stirring a whirlwind of emotions within me – surprise, disbelief, and a flicker of hope that threatened to ignite into something more.

"I'm sorry, Y/N," he continued, his voice tinged with regret. "I know I messed up, but I want you to know that I'm willing to do whatever it takes to make things right."

I felt a lump form in my throat as I listened to his heartfelt confession, the weight of his words settling in the pit of my stomach like a heavy stone. Could I trust him again, after everything we had been through? Did I dare to hope for a future where we could be more than just friends?

And then, before I could form a coherent response, Jack took a deep breath and spoke the words that I had longed to hear.

"I want more, Y/N," he confessed, his voice filled with quiet determination. "I want us to be more than just friends. I want to explore what we could have together, to see if there's a chance for something real between us."

A sense of relief washed over me as I heard Jack's heartfelt confession, his words echoing the silent desires of my own heart. For so long, I had yearned for something more – something deeper and more meaningful than the platonic friendship we had shared.

"I agree," I replied, my voice barely above a whisper, the weight of his words settling over me like a warm blanket. "I want that too, Jack."

There was a flicker of hope in his eyes as he reached out and took my hand in his, his touch sending a shiver down my spine. It was a simple gesture, yet it spoke volumes – a silent promise of the journey that lay ahead, filled with uncertainty and possibility.

And as we sat there, bathed in the soft glow of the evening sky, I knew that no matter what obstacles we may face, we would face them together, united by the bond of our shared love and the hope of a future filled with endless possibilities.

#hockey #nhl x reader #new jersey devils #nj devils #jack hughes #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes x y/n #jack hughes blurb #jack hughes imagine

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manicpixxiedreambitch · 2 months

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Okay so there is this person, right? To protect his/their privacy, I’m referring to them as Mitch. This is nowhere near their actual name. He is a good friend of mine, and I am grinding my teeth in annoyance because they have a boyfriend who is a MAJOR red flag. The boyfriend guilt trips him over everything, forced them to cut off a bunch of their friends, tries to keep them from texting other people, and then it gets WORSE. The dude used to track them on Life 360. He can have the password to their phone, but they can’t have the password to his. HE MONITORS THEIR DMS WITH THEIR FRIENDS. He goes through their phone. Any time they mention hanging out with friends he tries to guilt trip them and say something like “Oh well we haven’t really talked much in three months or whatever but okay” or “That’s fine, I’ll just burn myself out working to keep myself busy while you’re out on vacation with them, but hanging out with them must be more fun” and try to manipulate them into doing what he says. I’ve been trying for MONTHS now to get Mitch to dump him, but Mitch is still hesitant to leave the relationship. Apparently a few weeks ago Mitch did in fact try to dump the guy and the fucking douche nozzle replied with “Oh, you really decided to do this to me on a day I was feeling really suicidal???”

🚩🚩🚩

And so of course Mitch being the kindhearted person that dumbass DEFINITELY DOES NOT DESERVE, felt guilty enough to stay. The guy proceeded to love bomb them like crazy afterwards, too. Three days later I’m hearing this and I’m like “Well he seems happy enough all of a sudden with you he must not be so suicidal anymore. You should dump him now.” And Mitch is like “No because he’s being so nice now!!! And loving and attentive and he has issues but he’s trying to change.” And I am like “Bro you JUST wanted to break up with him. How long has he been telling you he’s trying to change and what changes have you seen?” And Mitch listing a few small things that were the bare fucking minimum like “Oh well I guess he’s not getting so mad. Like the other day I mentioned wanting to hang out with (mutual friend) and he didn’t get mad about it, he just acted a little weird.” And showed me the texts where he got “weird” where he essentially said “We never hang out anymore… but it’s just so much easier with your friends, ig”. BRO WHAT THE FUCK?????? And I’m pretty sure it’s like Mitch has to ask the dude before they even try to think about hanging out with their friends. The guy doesn’t even go to our school. He goes to an entirely different school. And I have this one friend who used to date the guy before and he said the guy was doing that bullshit then, too. And I’m trying to tell Mitch that they deserve someone SO MUCH BETTER. They said that they understand that but they really want their relationship to work. I essentially told them their relationship was more than a couple cracks in the wall or a leaky pipe, it was a whole burning house. And they are still with the guy and it’s so SO frustrating because I can’t stop thinking about how much more they deserve.

I can’t stop thinking about them, and at first I was convincing myself that it’s nothing. I’m not interested in Mitch, I’m just a concerned friend who hates their toxic boyfriend and wants the best for them. I’m just protective of my friends.

…right???

Wrong. Because then the thoughts turned to something different. I keep thinking about how they deserve better. How if they were MY partner, I wouldn’t be treating them like that. I’d be giving them respect and space when they need it, and I wouldn’t make them ask for my permission for anything. And then it proceeded to me thinking about how cute they are and how amazing they are. And then I started having these little daydreams of taking them out on a date.

So, in spite of me saying literally two months ago that despite being bisexual, I have never felt myself attracted to people beyond male and female, I am finding myself developing the smallest, tiniest crush on my trans/genderfluid friend.

What the fuck do I even do with this??????

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areyoudoingthis · 7 months

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I can't believe I was right about this thing I said the other day:

So after 1x10 we were left with two big questions the show had to answer going into s2: will Ed and Stede be able to find their way back to each other and mature enough as individuals to develop a healthy, sustainable relationship in the future? (The answer was always yes, of course, because they're our main characters and the show is the relationship. The interesting part was getting to watch it happen in a believable, fulfilling way, and I personally think they've done a great job of this so far in spite of having two less episodes to work with.)

The second question was: how will the fallout of izzy's actions be resolved? This was important not so much because of Izzy himself, but because he was the catalyst for Ed's kraken spiral and represents the forces that have been keeping Ed's head underwater his whole life (toxic white masculinity.)

I get that most people have assumed the show simply decided to handwave all of this by never having Izzy own up to the consequences of his own actions and just speedrun his way into being forgiven, but, whatever personal reactions I've had to his arc this season so far, I don't think the show forgot about this at all. I want to have more faith in them than that.

So what if Izzy's death has always been the inevitable answer they decided to come up with. I honestly believed that's what was going to happen to him going into this season, but then everything happened and I thought to myself "okay, i guess that's not what ofmd has decided to focus on, community and grace it is." But what if it's both? What if instead of an empty, purely cartoonish death like Nigel's and Chauncey's, they wanted to give a death that was a little more meaningful, with an arc that allowed him to recognize his mistakes and how his actions impacted Ed and Stede?

What if Izzy's "piracy is about belonging to something" is his exit speech, and what if everything that happened to him this season was a way of allowing him to be able to realize that, and realize that forcing Ed to perform a certain kind of masculinity just because he wanted him to was extremely fucked up, so he could acknowledge it to ed in the end? We wanted him punished, but we wanted Ed to hear an apology, too, and I'm genuinely convinced that that was impossible with the state of Izzy's development at the end of s1. How would he even have known what to apologize for???

So what if the thing that everyone thought was never going to be acknowledged could only ever really be acknowledged by the end of everyone's arcs this season? I am, once again, on the edge of my fucking seat.

#I WON SO FUCKING HARD THIS SEASON #MY ED LOVING HEART IS SOARING #ofmd spoilers #ofmd #our flag means death #alex watches ofmd

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aita-blorbos · 8 months

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AITA for wanting to validate my father’s research?

I (14f) recently set out on my own for the first time. I didn’t want to do so, but I was effectively forced. You see: my dad was mysteriously transformed into some kind of terrifying monster, and I was determined to find a cure. I decided I’d become a wizard every bit as powerful as he was— eventually working my way up to a spell that would fix him, and hopefully being able to help other people along the way as I honed my skills.

Initially, I was accompanied by just P and B (Both 20sf F). They had their own goals, but were okay with forming an adventuring party. And we got along pretty well. But eventually, our little team grew, and that’s where the problems arose.

E, N, RD and R (All 20s M) are the four who joined us. And initially, they seemed nice. Maybe a little slow (the first two came from some kind of hippie commune?), but generally agreeable. Our first bit of strife came when I made a realization about my dad.

…You see, I was studying from his spellbook, and as I deciphered more spells, I realized he was some kind of necromancer. This frightened me at first, but then I remembered before his transformation my father was a very, very kind man. I knew he would never use that magic for evil, and that he had to have some kind of good intent.

I decided to start studying necromancy myself— to confirm my hypothesis. But to actually perform any necromancy, I’d need a body, and so I asked R (generally one of the tougher members of the party) for some help.

He helped me dig up a grave and retrieve a body. I felt a little bad about doing it, but decided it was for a good cause. You see: I was hoping to find a way to make zombies remember who they were: reattain sentience. And so although my methods were dubious, ultimately I was trying to do something that was best for my new zombie and his family.

No-one was a fan of this decision, least of all E and N. Apparently, their hippie religion was very against this.

But I insisted it was okay. I knew what I was doing, and so we continued onward.

Occasionally, they’d make jeering remarks towards me, but I tried not to let it get to me. Despite our ideological differences, I tried my best to work well with them, and I did, for a few more adventures.

But then in the midst of another adventure, I was stolen from by kobolds. They took my zombie away from me, bringing him to their underground lair in hopes of luring me there.

Apparently, they wanted a favor from us. But the party weren’t necessarily ecstatic about it. Eventually, this boiled over into a fight. P (Not me. P.) fired the first shot.

This fight went poorly. There was a cave-in, and in that cave-in, N died. E, especially was heartbroken. I sympathized with his grief— at least… until he turned it around on me.

E accused me of having caused this. He said it was all my fault. Even though P initiated the combat, not me, he was convinced that the real reason N died was that their god was punishing the party for my ‘sins.’ Instead of looking towards who was logically responsible (P or, YOU KNOW, THE KOBOLDS), he pointed fingers at me: saying I was an evil, selfish, irrational person, and that we wouldn’t have been in the caves if not for my ‘stupid zombie.’

And even worse… half the party took his side! Both RD and P sided with him, saying this was my fault. This was especially insulting coming from P, who I feel was just trying to deflect the blame.

Soon after, the party split, but apparently they haven’t ceased holding a grudge against me. Most recently, they told local authorities about me and tried to have me apprehended (and potentially executed), not because they were worried about anyone being in danger, but solely out of SPITE.

AITA? I don’t think I am, but they were so INSISTENT, and so I’d like to get an unbiased opinion. What do you think?

#aita #am i the asshole #unreality

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purplewitch156 · 2 years

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Oooooo, @tohru-n!!!!!!

Okay. So. Deathless. You have no idea how happy I am that you asked for it because god almighty, I love it to bits. I love it so much that I have to calm myself down in order to write anything for it. That’s how bad it is.

The premise is that Voldemort and Harry are immortal. This is my version of the Being Master of Death Makes Harry Immortal trope. Oddly enough, I haven’t read very many immortal Harrys that I’ve enjoyed so this is my gift to me. It will follow canon pretty closely. I’ll make some adjustments to the final battle, as in Nagini doesn’t die. She’s not even at the battle. And Voldemort ends up getting imprisoned for life in Azkaban. Harry won’t realize he’s immortal right away. It’ll be a gradual realization and he won’t like it. At all. I honestly think that Harry wouldn’t do well being immortal and I want him to struggle with depression and suicide in this story, so I get it if Deathless gets skipped when it’s finally posted.

When Harry DOES realize he’s immortal and he can’t do anything about it, he starts to rethink Voldemort. He grows uncomfortable with the lifelong sentence for someone who cannot die and eventually succeeds in convincing the Wizengamot to release him. But he won’t be a ‘free man’. There will be safeguards put in place. There will be a method that stifles a person’s magic and it will be in the form of a tattoo because V needs to rock a tattoo. Voldemort will also be ‘employed’ by the Ministry to continue his sentence.

I want a great deal of time to pass in this story. When you’re dealing with immortals, it feels like you need to lean into centuries rather than years and figuring out how to structure that in a story will be a fun challenge. I’m really looking forward to exploring Voldemort’s and Harry’s relationship as it shifts from enemies to friends to lovers. My heart just glows whenever I think about Deathless. It makes me so happy.

Here's a snippet:

Conjuring a mind palace took a great deal of concentration and energy. He could not sustain it indefinitely and when he was forced to Wake he was always unnaturally tired. It was during one of these periods of great lethargy that Phillips returned to his cell and said through the bars, “Potter’s back. He wants to speak to you again.”

It took a moment before Voldemort replied.

“No.”

He did not turn his head to see whether Phillips had gone, keeping his half-lidded, unfocused gaze upon the black stone blocks that made up the ceiling, the blood runes blurring.

“He promises not to mention … whatever he mentioned last time.”

That made Voldemort turn his head.

“Is that so?”

The option to stay in his cell just to spite Potter crossed his mind, but once again, he was tempted by curiosity. If Potter wasn’t here to discuss Nagini’s whereabouts, then why was he here at all?

Laboriously, he sat up. His vertebra cracked as he rose from the cot.

“Do you need a mediwizard?” Phillips asked, watching him.

“I need a better bed.”

Phillips grunted as if he had sucked in a laugh. The cell door unlocked and Voldemort once more traveled down to the Visitor’s Wing. Potter was again at the eighth mirror.

“What do you want now?” Voldemort asked the moment he sat in the opposing chair. The walk down had tired him even further. It was difficult not to slump.

“Are you all right?” Potter asked, looking slightly alarmed.

“Yes,” Voldemort replied crisply. “What do you want?”

“I —” Potter seemed to flounder, almost as if he hadn’t thought this through, almost as if he’d chosen on a whim to visit Azkaban and drag his life-long enemy from the cold, knobby comfort of his cot.

Voldemort was not amused, but he was so tired that the idea of hoisting himself up and walking all the way back through the prison was enough to keep him in place. So he donned an expression that revealed just how little he thought of the wretch.

“The guard said you wished to talk,” Voldemort prompted. “You are doing very little of it.”

Potter’s lips thinned.

“Sad, little Potter. Are you not enjoying your victory?” Voldemort asked mockingly. “Perhaps we could trade places.”

Potter’s cheeks flushed crimson, his jaw tightened, and Voldemort finally felt a surge of energy. He rested his elbows upon the desk and leaned closer to the mirror.

“Are you lost without me? Did I supply the only purpose in your tiny, unimportant life?”

The mirror wiped itself blank but not before Voldemort had seen the livid expression on Potter’s face. He laughed, feeling better than he had in weeks.

>>>

Now on to Echoes!

Echoes will be a non-magic ghost story with a past-life twist. Harry, in need of money, will house sit a haunted house while the owner takes a holiday. Bella is the owner and the haunted house is Riddle House (obviously). He begins to be haunted by the Riddle Ghost – a sixteen-year-old boy who murdered his family.

As I said, this is a past life story. Unlike canon, Merope and Tom Sr stay married and Tom is raised at Riddle House, but it isn’t a happy family. Tom’s grandparents hate him and Merope and …. Tom Sr is … he’s not abusive but he’s not loving either. He’s just not present in Tom’s life. He pretty much ignores Tom. And Merope, for that matter. Tom’s positive relationship is with his mother, but Merope has always been frail and she dies when he’s sixteen. Struggling with the loss, Tom finds himself gravitating toward the new groundskeeper, a young man named Harry Potter.

I’m not sure if I want the story to be a back and forth between the past and the present or if I want to start the story in the past and tell it to its bloody climax (because Tom does kill his family) and then for the story to move into the present and have the reader know everything but Harry is clueless because he’s forgotten his previous life and now Ghost Tom is trying to get him to remember him. I think I like the second option more. I think that would be a cool structure, but we’ll see.

Instead of a snippet you get this:

When Tom and Harry begin their affair (cuz they’re gonna have one) Tom takes nude pictures of Harry. He stores them somewhere safe. When present day Harry is house sitting he ends up finding these pictures and gets thoroughly freaked out because the bloke buck naked, posing in highly suggestive ways, looks 100% like him.

#thank you tohru!#future fics #my fics #wip game #tomarry #harrymort

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thegeekynarwhal · 1 year

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93%, tell me of your crimes, criminal

93%. Does your character have an enemy. What is their past? Why do they hate each other?

Okay so people who are in sits follow my blog so I can't talk about Linda's situation in depth. But the answer is oh absolutely yes she does. More vaguely, there are a lot of people you could consider your enemies when you're like Linda and the world is against you for being a siren in a world where monsters aren't supposed to exist.

Most of the people who have like. A solid enemy are my old dnd characters.

Colette was someone who was born with features that made her look like she was supposed to be important. Stars in her eyes flecks of gold for freckles, and bright pink hair. Her father scammed people by convincing people she was someone chosen by the gods, but really, she just had fae ancestry. The gods stopped picking chosen ones a long time ago. So, Colette hated the gods, her life had been a living hell for most of her life due to this chosen one nonsense, not to mention he mother had gone off on a pilgrimage for a god and just never returned. So Colette was like okay fuck fate fuck the gods I'm gonna lock myself in a tower and do wizardry and read for the rest of my life. Even when she was forced into adventuring, she swore there was no way she was going to make friends or take the lead, just to spite the gods. This uh. Did not go well for her. She was never meant to be a chosen one, that was never some preplanned destiny. But it happened anyways, she fell in love and made friends she'd do anything for. She even gave a power of friendship speech to win over someone who'd betrayed their group. In the end, in an attempt to gain enough power to actually defeat their enemy without losing anyone, she ended up officially becoming the chosen of the gods. God did she hate it and then, but she did it for her friends.

#oc tag #Colette did not get a perfect happy ending #but she got a girlfriend out of all that nonsense

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theway-itwas · 7 months

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20231023

how am i meant to get over it?

it's been over a year. my blood still boils, the pit in my stomach still sinks deeper, and all i am ever left with is myself. always me.

could i have avoided it? am i still just as insecure as i was then? was there any substance in the way i was feeling?

maybe i'm desperately holding onto this anger and hurt in an attempt to continue to feel something. anything at all. maybe i just want an excuse to find something to loathe about them. i have tried and tried and tried to move past it but it's not just two steps forward and three steps back, it's a constant loop. right when i think i've gone ahead of the curve, i am right back at the beginning.

i'm obsessed with them. i hate everything about them, but i can't stop thinking about them. can't stop thinking about their music taste, and how much i despise it. how i would rather die out of spite than have to listen to any of their favorite artists. i can't stop thinking about what the next color of my hair will be, and how i can't pick anything that they haven't already done. how i will grow to hate the things i love if i know they like them, too. how i avoid their hobbies, their interests, anything that reminds me of them like the plague.

and yet, i am the one broken. i am the one destroyed. i am the one who they have destroyed the most. i, and i alone, am forced to live with this feeling. and they have no idea.

why would they? even desi knows only a small fraction of how i actually felt. i don't even think i could coherently string it into words if i tried, really. i don't think i could even begin to confront the feelings again, i fear it would kill me, in any sense of the word.

they are the blueprint. they are the person i am constantly striving to be, yet perilously trying to avoid. i still catch myself trying to be them and finding excuses to hate myself for getting too close. i hate them. but still, i have every reason to think they're better than me in every imaginable way. i have placed them so far below me that they are looking down upon me. i tried so hard to pull the pedestal out from underneath their feet, but i only trip myself in the process.

there's so many what-ifs that it makes me want to vomit. what if i had never said anything? what if i had sat back and watched as everything i have ever loved and wanted slipped from between my fingertips and into the cold, vile hands of the person i hate more than anything else.

it would be easier to just forget, but i can't do that. i need it. i need this constant hatred and gut-wrenching pain to remind me of everything then. i need it to survive, almost. it eats away at me and i let it.

there was no confirmation. i never got any closure. i never got anything but empty promises and now i have to live with this insecurity whenever they make any new friends, or go out with anyone else, or mention any other name. i am so scared it will happen again that i might just be speaking it into existence.

there is no reassurance that could convince me otherwise. i was losing them. i was being tossed aside and they didn't even realize it. i was, yet again, being forgotten. for what? for radiohead and little figurines that i wasn't a part of or invited to? for orange hair dye and doc martens? it still kills me.

what if it always does?

what if i don't get over it?

there is no moving past this. the one person who was supposed to see and understand me and my insecurities and everything i am and am not okay with, doing the exact same thing. i am invisible to everyone and i always will be. i just hoped for once it would be different. i am doomed to being unseen.

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quaranmine · 1 year

Note

how do you convince yourself to write lol i have ideas on ideas on ideas that i elaborate on and plan out in my docs but i can never actually put pen to paper and get the story out

hm, this is a complicated question to answer. mostly because i'm not quite sure.

I think a healthy dose of it is just spite, for me. Like spite directed at myself. Because I always enjoyed writing, but back in high school i would start wip after wip after wip and just abandon them after a page. I finished two fics out of, like, dozens that i tried to write over the course of a few years. and then i just stopped writing fiction altogether for five years! I got back into it because this fandom and community inspired me enough for me to have a lot of ideas again. And I think part of the reason I write, and do these challenges and stuff, is because I was always VERY self critical about my lack of ability to finish anything. So to spite myself and prove myself wrong, I write. every time i finish something, or write something longer than 1000 words, i'm proving to my past self that i CAN do things.

***note that i do not recommend being self critical about this. it's okay if you don't write much or at all. be gentle with yourself. i'm saying part of the reason i am motivated is to prove myself wrong.

As for the writing challenges...I wouldn't say I do my best work during them. I'm often frazzled and stressed about meeting a deadline. I'm exhausted right now just thinking about the fact that at the time of answering this, i STILL need to do my writing for the day. However, it establishes a routine for me. It forces me to think about my projects in practical terms every day. It forces me out of the daydreaming mode into going "okay, how do i actually get something done today?" it helped me to do it for over 2 months earlier in the year to finish htbahb, and it's helping me right now. i'll be able to ride off that routine of writing regularly for a while even after i complete the challenge. and posting it publicly on tumblr is sort of holding me accountable to my word. i mean, i don't think literally any of you would care/think badly of me if i just didn't do it or skipped a day, but knowing that i'm posting about it to you all makes me a lot more keen to keep my word, if that makes sense.

as for the rest of my motivation, i think it comes from how much i like having a finished product. i like seeing people reblog the fanfic and tag it. i like reading my reviews on AO3. i even have a folder in my phone of screenshots of reviews/tags on my work that i particularly like that i can refer back to for a smile :] so this, again, is just sort of a reminder on why it's good to interact with content made by artists, writers, etc in the fandom. it really goes a LONG way to incentivizing people to keep making cool stuff!!!

#quara asks #thank u for the ask it made me think!

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buckttommy · 2 years

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Sorry if this is a bit of a silly question, but why are we happy about the fact that Eddie's dad will probably die/may die? Okay, the man isn't my favorite, as he isn't for anyone obviously, but I really see enthusiasm about this😅 Is it because he's not a nice person or are we happy about it in relation to Buddie? Am I missing something here? Any theories or parallels? Not being a native English speaker maybe I'm missing some details :(

Hi, that's not a silly question! I can't speak for everyone else, only myself, but there are several reasons why I hope Ramon is going to kick the bucket:

Narratively, there is something really juicy about going to someone with the intention to try to make amends and death claiming them before you get the chance. In TV, we get so used to things working out in the end. Even in 9-1-1, very rarely do they leave things on a painful, jagged, bitter note. But real life isn't like that; in real life, things don't end smoothly, they just end. So I like the idea of Eddie going home to confront the source of his trauma, spending weeks and days gearing up to say everything he wants to say to his father, only to be stopped in his tracks by his father's sudden death. I like what Ramon's death would do for Eddie's healing journey, how it would intimately force him to confront the fact that there will always be unspoken words and grief between him and his father, but learning to forgive himself for not being the person his father wanted him to be in spite of that, and subsequently laying that burden of expectation to rest along with his father's body.

As an Eddie girl (gn), I think anyone who has ever hurt or abused Eddie in any way should die immediately. And I feel comfortable using the word "abuse" because, regardless of the "severity" of what Ramon actually did or said (which we will find out soon enough), his actions left lingering trauma that his son is still dealing with decades later. If that's not abuse, I don't know what is. Often times, stories will have the abuse survivor forgive their abuser as a way to "move on" but I don't always think that's the right narrative choice. Sometimes in a story, abusers don't need to be forgiven, nor do they need to have happy or redemptive endings; sometimes they can just die, fully convinced that they were right in the end, and entirely unremorseful. It is a raw, heartbreaking choice that not a lot of writers choose to make, but it is also fully authentic and would change the way Eddie continues his healing (see point #1)

On a more personal note, I, like most Eddieblrinas, have projected heavily on Eddie and/or his family dynamics and since my own father is unfortunately still alive and well, I will settle for Ramon dropping dead as a treat. :)

Hope this helps!

#jack answers mail

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lxngbottom · 3 years

Text

A Cold Night | N.L

in which the reader is best friends with neville, & she swore he would ask her to the yule ball. she is forced to go alone without anyone’s knowledge.

warnings: just angst honestly, & swearing

word count: 1,575

im watching gof rn by myself & i just came up with this randomly so enjoy!

—

y/n y/l/n sat in the (now) glamours great hall. kids her age, younger, & older, laughed as they all danced. everyone was dressed in formal attire, even y/n herself who was never too keen on getting dressed up. whispers broke out when people saw her, saying how beautiful she looked. but, the look on her face contrasted from her baby blue dress. it was one filled with envy, and spite for the ginger girl that danced in the green dress.

y/n brought the bottle once again up to her lips, discreetly. the bottle was filled with muggle alcohol, as she knew it would be the only way to get her through the night.

she watched as neville smiled, laughed with ginny. they looked to be having the time of their life. and as much as y/n wanted to be happy for him, she couldn’t bring herself to be. her whole being was filled with rage, and the worst part was; it was beginning to become noticeable.

y/n looked over, and saw harry and ron with their dates, sitting down. they looked just as bored as she did. she looked around once more, her eyes landing on hermione and her Bulgarian man. she smiled lightly, happy that at least her girl best friend was having a good night. hermione had never glowed so much since y/n had known her, and it brought some serenity.

but, she thought about the conversation that had occurred between them, just a few days before this:

“y/n! the yule ball is in three days and you’re telling me that you still don’t have someone to go with?!” hermione exclaimed, her face filled with concern for her friend.

“don’t remind me, mione’. please.” y/n responded, plopping down onto her bed. she looked down at her fingers, remembering that neville had told her, seamus, and dean that he was going with ginny weasley.

“well... there must be someone!”

hermione began to think to herself, surely not wanting y/n to go all by herself. that would be completely unacceptable in her book. “i don’t think ron or harry have a date yet. maybe you could ask one of them! i’m sure they wouldn’t mind.” hermione suggested.

y/n shook her head, “they’re going with the twins...”

hermione sighed, a feeling of guilt penetrating her chest. “well... is there anyone specifically that you would want to go with?”

the question made y/n’s heart snap, as yes, there was someone she had in mind. neville longbottom. her best friend since first year. she assumed that neville would just ask her, and of course she wouldn’t have declined. she had fancied the Herbology loving boy since the second she laid eyes on him, and three years later, that still hadn’t changed.

when neville had informed her that he was escorting ginny, she had lied to him and said that she had a date as well. but, of course, she just didn’t want to look like a pathetic fool in front of him.

“yeah, actually. i’ll ask them tomorrow and let you know, hermione.” y/n responded, earning another small smile from the dirty blonde.

“great! there’s no way they would turn you down!”

but when the next day came, there wasn’t another person. y/n had lied once again, just to not seem pathetic in front of one of her close friends. she had even told hermione that the imaginary boy said yes, and that she was very excited to being attending the ball with him.

y/n took another swig of the bottle, her eyes still not leaving neville and ginny. maybe it was the effects of the alcohol, but y/n felt as if her emotions were about to burst right from her chest. she imagined a scenario where she slammed the bottle on the ground, grabbing everyone’s attention, and just storming out to leave everyone in question.

but, of course she couldn’t do that. she didn’t want to ruin other people’s nights.

time seemed to go by quickly, and y/n’s anger was quickly replaced with sadness. she looked down at her dress, hating it. she felt as if she had just wasted her time coming.

tears brimmed her eyes, and she quickly stood up to storm out. she did so whimpering, trying her best to hold back tears.

when she met the cold night, it nipped at her nose, causing a single tear to slip down her face. she quickly took her heels off, the alcohol making it increasingly difficult to walk in them without stumbling.

she looked around a few times, just to make sure no one was present. when she realized she was alone, she let out a small sob.

it wasn’t fair. it just wasn’t fair. y/n swore that neville would be the one to take her, and that she would be the one on the dance floor laughing with him. but, the world doesn’t always work in our favor. she took another swig, and continued to cry to herself.

by the time the bottle was empty, y/n was drunk. she began to see doubles, and knew that it was time to just to turn in for the night. there was no real reason to even be here. not now, or even in the first place. she had no idea why she even decided to come.

as she began walking towards the staircase, letting her drunk mind consume her, a familiar voice called out for her,

“y/n!”

she turned her head, and her heart broke once more when she saw the person in question. he looked so handsome.

“what, neville?” she responded angrily, just simply wanting to disappear from his sight.

he looked her up and down, noticing her makeup running, and the empty bottle in her hands.

“where are you going? and, why are you crying?” he asked concerned, stepping closer to her. her breath hitched as he did so, and he began to put the pieces together of what he thought was going on. “merlin... did your date dump you? i’m so sorry, y/n. ginny and i—“

“no.” she interjected, “he didn’t dump me.”

neville’s eyebrows furrowed out of pure confusion, “oh, well then... why are you leaving? you seem really upset.” the boy moved some hair from her shoulder, secretly taking in how beautiful she looked. runny mascara and all.

“yes, neville. i’m upset. i’m glad you noticed...” she slurred out.

neville’s face dropped, “are you...” he began, still trying to out the pieces together, “are you drunk, y/n?”

y/n chuckled spitefully, her emotions being the only thing driving her at the moment. “yeah, neville. i’m drunk. i’m very drunk, actually.”

he noticed the edge in her tone, the anger. what was going on with her?

“y/n... you know you can talk to me, right? we’re friends.”

y/n laughed once again, this time, taking a hair clip from her hair and tossing it on the floor. “yeah, whatever, longbottom. just go back in. your date is probably waiting for you.”

neville was completely lost. y/n never acted like this towards him.

“y/n, seriously. what in the bloody hell is wrong with you, tonight? where is your date?”

finally, y/n broke.

“i don’t have one.” she spoke, her voice cracking. “i lied to you. i lied to every one of you.” she stepped closer to him, “i came here... alone.”

“what?” he questioned, “why—why would you lie, y/n?”

her fists clenched from his question. was neville really that oblivious? could she have not made it anymore obvious to him all these years?

“because... the person i wanted to go with, was already going with someone else.”

neville’s eyes softened, and he smiled. “y/n... you still could’ve found someone. i mean, look at me. somehow i managed to get a date and—“

“just fuck off, longbottom. okay? just leave me the fuck alone!”

his jaw dropped, and he started to reconsider ever word he had just spoken. what did he say that made her so angry?

y/n began to turn around and walk away, but neville grabbed her arm before she could move any further. “y/n, just talk to me. i just wanna know what’s going on, and why you lied about having a date. i won’t judge you or—“

“merlin’s beard, neville! you can be such an oblivious git sometimes!” she spat at him, yanking her arm away from his hold.

his chest tightened from her words. is that really how she felt about him? after all these years... she saw him just like everyone else did?

“i wanted—“ she started, scared to speak, but at the same time needing to, “i wanted to go with you!”

neville’s face contorted into a shocked one from her yelling,

“i lied because you were going with ginny, and i wanted you to ask me! i honestly, truly thought that you would ask me as a matter of fact! i didn’t care about finding another date because i was convinced that you would take me!”

neville didn’t know how to respond. all he could do was focus on her trembling voice, and the way tears continuously rolled down her face.

“y/n—“

“but it doesn’t matter anymore, right? cause you’re with ginny and i’m just simply leaving! so... have a fantastic night!”

and with that, she dashed away from him. a trail of tears and whimpers leaving with her. neville stood there, shocked, confused, worried.

of course he had wanted to ask her. he just didn’t know how.

#harry potter #harry potter imagine #neville longbottom imagine #neville longbottom #neville longbottom smut #neville x reader

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theseshipsshallsail · 3 years

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Chapter 1

The revelry from the bookstore leaves a heady buzz of la libertà flowing through their veins, and as the crescent moon climbs higher in a pin-pricked sky, Rome’s labyrinthine streets bear witness to the loss of their remaining inhibitions. Drunken kisses give way to drunken dancing - and unfortunate drunken vomiting - but the ancient cobbles are their compass on this ferragosto evening, steering them back to the complicit safety of their hotel.

The stale scent of sex still lingers in the room, yet tempted as they are to add to it, the prospect of their imminent separation is a sobering force. Elio’s body is heavy with exhaustion. The oppressive tightness in his chest magnified by all that he’s trying to ignore. Their time is borrowed. Soon, all of this will be naught but memory. The man beside him nothing but a ghost. Haunting his every step with visions of a life denied. A future obfuscated by what-ifs and maybes.

He refuses to sleep, however. Refuses to sacrifice a single minute to unconsciousness in spite of the grappa’s siren call. Absurd though it is, a part of him dreads waking up alone. That Oliver will disappear like a thief in the night - taking what’s left of his shattered heart with him. His guards are down - all his pretences stripped away - but here they are, stretched out on a too-small bed, solemn fingers caressing familiar skin. Worshipping each other by words, if not by the flesh.

And it isn’t easy. Of course it isn’t. Elio’s an individuo reservato. A trait he’s uncomfortably aware of. But he can’t let that stop him from spilling his innermost thoughts. From divulging the things he wishes he’d done differently. Or not at all. In some aspects, he’s sure he’s repeating himself, but there’s just so much he needs Oliver to hear. Things he never dared tell him previously - never deemed vital - when the end of their summer idyll was a nebulous concept.

Like how he’d leave the adjoining door open at night, hoping beyond hope that Oliver would walk through it. Or that afternoon at the tennis courts, when he’d recoiled from his massage for fear of leaning into the frisson of excitement. Needs him to understand his visceral reaction the morning after they first slept together. The crippling anxiety that twisted his intentions, necessitating a hasty - if short-lived - retreat. Wants to beg him not to forget. To remember everything. So that when next he tastes the salt-tang of the ocean upon his lips, the sweetness of apricot juice beneath a cloudless yonder, a piece of Elio - nevermind how fleeting - will slip into that parallel life, too.

All his secrets.

All his worries.

All he’s put off for later.

A futile notion, admittedly, now that there is no later.

No more chance for postponement.

Thankfully, he isn’t the only one speaking, and Oliver lays his own regrets out like a hand of cards whenever he stumbles into a tongue-tied silence. His forearm is slung around his waist, their legs tangled at the knees, and Elio drowns in his eyes as he recalls the steely glares that once pierced him to the core, but which he now appreciates were a means of self-defence. An attempt to stave off the unavoidable.

“Did you mean it?” he whispers, twisting Oliver’s Star of David between his fingertips as he burrows into the sticky warmth of his neck. “When you said you’d been happy here?”

“How can you even ask me that?”

“How can I not?” Elio replies, failing to control the tremor in his voice. “You tried to keep your distance when you arrived. It was me who sought you out. If I hadn’t pushed so hard -”

“I’d have probably spent ten more days kicking myself for my cowardice,” Oliver tells him, dropping kisses to his knuckles as though they’re something to be cherished. “Wearing holes in my espadrilles… trying to hide a semi each time you passed by in those swim trunks...”

Elio snorts. “The feeling’s mutual, mon ami.”

“So we’re both idiots, then?”

“Well… one of us was being purposefully difficult...”

“Goose,” Oliver growls, and Elio giggles despite himself when he’s tickled without mercy. “I’ll show you purposefully difficult.”

It soon devolves into a childish wrestling match, Elio’s wrists pinned above him as Oliver scrabbles along his sides, leaving him bow-taut and winded. “Tutto apposto! Enough!”

“You give?”

“I give,” he says, lungs heaving in his chest. “Dio… I shouldn’t have asked.”

“Nonsense.” Oliver rolls to the side, tipping his chin up to better meet his eyes. ”This is new to us both. It’s only natural to have doubts.”

Elio huffs. “Doubt is the father of inventions.”

“And may I ask what you’re inventing?”

An awkward shrug. “Nothing,” Elio says, afraid his misgivings will lead them down a destructive path. “And everything. You know how my brain works.”

“I do, yes.” Oliver brushes a thumb over his bottom lip. “Though for my sins, I’ve yet to find cause for complaint.”

“Déviant.”

“Takes one to know one.”

Elio nips at the tormenting digit, not quite ready to let the subject go. “I want to hear it,” he murmurs, teeth scraping the nail. “I think I need to hear it.”

“Elio…”

“Just tell me,” he insists, and sighing, Oliver pinches the bridge of his nose.

“It’s complicated.”

“Isn’t it always?”

Impatience flares at the return of his evasiveness, and the remorse in Oliver’s gaze is immediate. “We never talked much about my family, did we?” he asks, and Elio shakes his head, shuffling closer as Oliver draws a shuddering breath. “My parents, they’re.... well. To describe them as traditional would be a kindness,” he continues. “Our relationship has been strained for years, but they have certain... expectations, I suppose. For my future, specifically. You know how it is.”

“Do I?” Elio asks, stiffening as I'm sure I'll pay for it somehow echoed from the not so distant past.

The implication is clear, and maybe there are razor blades in his expression, because Oliver’s own turns instantly apologetic. “I guess not,” he says, sliding a conciliatory hand to his hip. “Do you have any idea how lucky you are?”

Elio frowns. “In what way?”

“With your folks,” Oliver explains. “My father would cart me off to a correctional facility.” A beat. “He still might.”

“Only if he finds out,” his traitorous mouth blurts before his alleged genius can catch up, and Elio’s heart sinks. “But he won’t, will he?”

It’s less a question, more a statement, and Oliver’s jaw clenches as he stares at him in silent concession. “I wish things could be different.”

“I know,” Elio says, the words braver than the sentiment behind them. “Me too.”

But the universe isn’t that lenient. Like Icarus, they’ve flown too near to the sun, and the consequences of such defiance will see their wings clipped once they crash back down to earth. He’d cautioned himself on the journey south to prepare for the blow. Peered out the grimy window of the direttissimo, knowing that when he next stands on the platform he’ll be alone. That he’ll hate it. Those rehearsals, it seems, have done little to dull the pain of what’s to come, and latent superstition has left him fumbling in the dark, regardless.

“E’ la vita,” Elio says, resorting to self-preservation as he dredges up a smile - the over-bright, false one he’s perfected through years of dinner drudgery. “Why risk it all for a bit of fun, right?”

“Don’t do that.” Apparently Elio’s not the only one who can see through a facade. “You mean more to me than some fling, and you know it.”

“But -”

“No. Hear me out.” Earnest, Oliver smooths the hair from Elio’s temple. “These past six weeks… I don’t know how to describe how important they were to me. The freedom. The acceptance.” His throat bobs in the grey strokes of dawn. “You.”

“Me?”

“Us.” Oliver fidgets with a loose thread on Elio’s shirt. “I meant it,” he mutters at last, winding an errant curl around the index finger of his other hand. “I have been happy here. I’ve been happy with you.” He hesitates. A quick flash of indecision. “I’m not sure I was ever really happy before you.”

“Please don’t say that.”

“It’s the truth.”

“Per carità! That only makes it worse,” Elio says, whirling away to hide in Oliver’s collar. The sour musk of sweat is soaked into the material, and he inhales deeply, hoarding every piece of him while he still can. “You are the very best parts of me,” he confesses, lifting his head. “I don’t know what I’ll do when -”

“Hey…” Oliver’s grip tightens. “Didn’t we go over this? You’ll be -”

“Fine. You said.”

“Clearly it bears repeating.”

Elio touches his face. Watches the ripples of emotion spread out like a pebble cast into the lake. “And you?” he returns, recollecting that night on the rock. His naivety in presuming Oliver’s ghost wouldn’t always be staring out at the horizon. Rodin’s Thinker clad in billowy cotton. “You’ll be okay?”

A breath. “I’ll be okay.”

Elio’s not sure which of them he’s trying to convince, so he kisses him gently in lieu of examining it further, his stomach flipping when Oliver pulls back with an air of exquisite softness. “What time do we need to be at the airport?” he asks, seeking sanctuary in distraction. “You have your passport, sì?”

“I do,” Oliver says, studying him carefully. “The plane leaves at noon. But don’t feel you have to -” He stops. Swallows. Tries again. “You don’t have to see me off. Not if you don’t want -”

“I want.”

“Elio -”

“Non essere ridicolo. I’m coming,” he tells him, fighting a shiver as the cool breeze from the window brings goosebumps to his skin. “Of course I’m coming.”

The relentless tick of the clock rings loud in the sudden silence, and Elio raises up on his elbow, only for Oliver to cup his cheek before he can turn towards the wall.

“Don’t look,” he whispers, sounding choked as he double checks the time on his watch. “It’s ten minutes fast at any rate.”

“Ten minutes?” Elio laughs. Slightly unhinged. “What difference does that make? Ten? Twenty? You still have to leave.”

He detests the unspoken word that hovers between them. The entire phrase a sullen admission of weakness: you still have to leave me.

“Don’t think of it like that,” Oliver murmurs, one hand stroking the base of his spine. ”We have a few hours yet.”

Elio sniffs. “Not like they’ll matter tomorrow.”

“Maybe not. But they matter right now.” Oliver nudges their foreheads together. “Every second, Elio.”

“Every second, Elio,” he echoes numbly, if only to call him by his name one last time.

He’s shaking, he realises, though in all honesty he doesn’t care that his vulnerabilities are on display. That Oliver can see how lost in him he really is. That the situation is gutting him, and he’s unable to stop the bleeding. His chest feels concave. The space below his ribs too small to contain the sheer need and protectiveness that washes through him. He wants to shelter Oliver from the storm that lies ahead. To house him beneath his breast where the burdens of this world cannot touch him. Encapsulate everything Oliver is within the confines of himself, meagre as those confines might be.

But what can he do? Implore him to stay? Ask him to give up his doctorate? His career? His responsibilities? And for what? A life in the shadows? Always looking over their shoulders. Always that sense of shame.

He thinks of the pink and yellow lilies that bloom in the giardino back in B. The delicate petals that unfurl for such a brief period of time. There’s something recherché, he knows, in such transitory beauty, yet Elio’s never lacked for stubbornness. Oliver may believe his story is already written - that their destiny is forged in stone - but no one’s ever survived a freefall by continuing to spiral.

For something so tragically temporary, their bond has left a permanent mark. And Elio? He wants to beat his fists against this odious ending until they’re bloodied and raw.

#cmbyn #fanfic #elio x oliver #angst #last night in rome

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wouldduskwood · 3 years

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Descendants of Despair Part 51

I sat back in my chair, untangling my hand briefly from Jake’s as I used both hands to keep my hood up. “Fuck,” I cursed quietly. “The man without a face has more technical skill than I ever thought.” Rubbing my temples, I took a few steadying breaths.

“Uh, what’s going on?” Dan questioned. I forced myself to sit upright in my chair once more and instinctively took Jake’s hand back in my own. Touching him, being close to him, using him to lean on...it had all become second nature to me. He had gotten past my defenses, then became somehow part of them. I needed him. My action did not escape Dan’s attention. “Urgh,” he groaned, looking away. Jake’s hand briefly increased in pressure in mine then returned to a relaxed state as I continued to hold it.

“The thing is, I may have misjudged just how capable that jackass is…” I groaned. “I knew he must have had some ability, but I think he was tracking all of our calls for a while. How else did he know that you were leaving the hospital and that Phil had called you?” I looked at Jake. “Can he track my phone without your knowledge?” I asked warily, unsure just how much the man without a face knew. “Doubtful,” Jake murmured. “The type of hacking to get into someone's calls would leave far more traces than a simple encryption to prevent me from seeing that they’d sent a message, like Alan had used. If Nym0s didn’t pick up on it, and I didn’t during my regular checks, then I doubt he has gotten through it.” I nodded thankfully, which seemed to infuriate Dan once again.

“Wait, so you are just okay with him monitoring everything you do?” Dan snarled. I shrugged. “I have nothing to hide from him and I trust him. That’s more than I can say about literally anyone else.” “What the fuck has he done to you?” Dan hissed, glaring wildly at me. “You seemed so in control of things before, now it’s like you don’t want to make a move without checking with him that it’s okay first. He’s controlling you.”

I grabbed Jake’s hand as tightly as I could to prevent him from reacting. That was exactly what Dan was expecting to see and I didn’t want to go down that path. “You’re wrong,” I stated coldly. “I can look after myself. Jake’s presence in my life has made it worthwhile. Jake’s presence in my life has given me something to fight for, to live for. You want to know if I can take care of myself. Fuck Dan, I’ve taken care of myself for so long that I have no idea what it would be like to not do it. Jake makes things easier, but there is no way in hell that I have lost any of the edge that I had before. The fact that you can’t see that is making me wonder if it is even worthwhile pursuing this plan or if Jake and I should just disappear and work it out ourselves.”

As I finished my statement, I let Jake’s hand go and pushed my seat back, causing the metal legs to scrape against the concrete floor in an excruciating sound akin to nails scraping down a blackboard. As I stood, Jake followed suit without question. To prove my point, I led the way to the door with Jake trailing behind me. I wanted to give the illusion of being in control and I think Jake knew that so was doing his best to let me have the win. It wasn’t just to try and convince Dan, it was to convince myself that I wasn’t weak as well. Deep down I knew that if I ever ended up on the street again, I’d fit straight back into my past life without hesitation, but Jake’s very presence had weakened me in a way. I really couldn’t fathom how I’d exist without him now. Becoming another layer of my defense system, he had more say in my life than anyone ever had. But I didn’t regret it in the slightest.

“Wait,” Dan sighed. “Maybe I misjudged you.” I paused but didn’t turn back. Jake stood behind me, silently. I knew he would be waiting for me to make a move. I waited silently for Dan to continue speaking, trying to employ Jake’s tactics to Dan instead. “Look, what were you planning to do?” Dan asked, his voice softening. Turning, I made my way back to the seat I had left, turned it around and sat on it backwards. It wasn’t meant to look cool, rather to give me a quick escape if I needed to. I didn’t want to be hampered by getting tangled in the chair.

“I want to go in and see Phil, but without Jake. He is still wanted by some powerful people. I need someone to come with me to help in case the man without a face is there. The thing is, Dan, it may not be safe. I can escape relatively easily, but you wouldn’t likely be able to follow. Your presence and the fact Jake will be hidden somewhere may be enough for the man without a face to not make a move, as he won’t know what we are up to...but I can’t promise you’ll be okay. I’d have preferred to have Thomas there as well to confuse things further but it doesn’t look like that will happen.”

“That pussy wouldn’t be able to cope with it,” Dan snickered. “Look, he’s a good guy but not cut out for this type of game. So, you’d be under my care…” Dan grinned, looking at Jake’s hunched form. This act of spite was enough to completely piss me off. Before Jake could react, I sprang from my chair and pushed Dan from his. He was taken by surprise, but I allowed him to stand then tapped his knee out from under him with a quick kick. “You may have the muscle,” I sneered. “But I can protect myself. If you pull that shit again, I won’t hesitate to lay you on your ass and leave you there.” Jake’s arms wrapped around my waist as my body shook with rage.

“Okay, okay, I get it…” Dan muttered as he pulled himself back on the chair. “If I wasn’t still recovering from the car accident, I’d have had you.” He sneered defiantly. “When would that have happened? When I pushed you off your chair, or when I had you back on the floor within a second after you had stood once again?” I snarled. “Don’t push me, Dan. I can do this with or without you. I would appreciate your support, but Jake and I can figure out an alternative strategy without it if we have to.”

Dan sighed. “Yeah, okay I get it. You’ve got as much edge as you always had,” he admitted grudgingly. “Maybe you’re the one wearing the pants in the relationship,” he snickered, casting a glance in Jake’s direction. I was about to respond out of anger once again when Jake replied for me. “It took you that long to figure it out huh? She has had me completely since she first started questioning me, despite me trying to fight it.” This response shut Dan up and took away my anger. I hadn’t expected Jake to practically confess his love for me in front of anyone else.

“Okay, so have we gotten over this point scoring?” I snarled, still trying to maintain a level of frustration in my voice to let Dan know I wasn’t playing games. “Yeah, okay, don’t pick on the hackerman. I get it,” Dan replied. “Jake?” I questioned. “Yeah, don’t wind the beefcake up, I get it,” Jake replied with a touch of humour in his voice. “Truce?” I asked. “Truce,” both Jake and Dan replied, eyeing each other with an element of loathing and distrust as they did so.

Part 52

#duskwood jakexmc fanfic #duskwood jake x #duskwood jakexplayer #duskwood jake x player #duskwood jake x mc #duskwood fanfiction #duskwood fanfic #duskwood #duskwood jakexmc #duskwood jake #jake x mc #jakexmc #hackerman #fanfiction #fanfic #duskwood dan

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areyoudoingthis · 7 months

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i wonder if the potential spoilers we have for the finale (I saw that screencap going around a few days ago) are going to make izzy's arc more satisfying and give everyone in the show and at least some parts of the fandom the closure they've needed once everything is finally resolved

said potential spoilers under the cut

#I'm vibrating into next week i tell you #ofmd spoilers #alex watches ofmd #bear in mind there really be potential spoilers under the cut

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imonthinice · 3 years

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The Criminal Psychology Majors, Jason Todd x Fem!Reader Part 12/?

Word Count: 4.4k

Author’s Note: Y/N - Your Name, A/N - Any Name (Your Best friend’s name)

God idk what i’m doing with this but i’m liking it lmao

next one might honestly be smut idk

Warnings: Violence, Swearing, Description of Blood, Gets heated, hints at trauma, no beta bitch we die like Jason Todd

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7) (Part 8) (Part 9) (Part 10) (Part 11) (Part 12) (Part 13) (Part 14) (Part 15) (Part 16) (Part 17) (Part 18) (Part 19) (Part 20)

Y/N walked through the streets of Gotham, which were once bustling with people, but now were quiet with the occasional hooker, she had caught the city as an unlively hour, where it seemed to sleep the night away while the vigilantes of the area watched it like their lives depended on it. In some ways it did, the stories they would tell when being interviewed were horrific sometimes, but Y/N figured a decent amount of it was for dramatization, to keep the people of Gotham off of the streets to protect them all from it.

The question was always protect them from what, and they never answered. So, it never kept the people of Gotham at bay from the streets at night, and had Y/N’s car not been towed, she would have been driving home in the safe, secluded area of her car, not the vast wilderness of the streets of Gotham.

She looked up at the sky to see one of the virgate boys using a grappling hook to fly to the other building, which was such a sight to behold for someone who never witnessed a superhero beyond Superman at home. She wished and longed to know more about the vigilante, but didn’t dwell or dote on that man, because she didn’t need to.

Something told her that he was watching though, tracing every step she made to make sure she got home in one piece. She thought she was crazy, her life didnt matter more than anyone else in Gotham. He’s not following me, why would he? she thought, Even though I’m dating Jason Todd, they probably don’t know Jason, so my life doesn’t mean much more to them than any one of the hookers along this street. I’m overthinking it.

The walk home took two hours, she left Jason’s at 4am just to find herself back home at 6am, bright and early as the sun rose, ready to greet the day and all it had in store for everyone. But the things it had in store for Y/N was a class and if she was lucky, cuddling with Jason. Nothing more, nothing less.

She would open her front door, unscathed from the journey home, except maybe for a few callouses on her feet, it was the last time she wouldn't pay for more than a day of parking, that’s for sure. Heels were not the shoes you wanted for a two-hour walk home in the Autumn cold, but they were what she had.

She thought about what she was going to do next, and the first thought she had was to shower. Not because she needed to, but because she wanted to nurse the terrible headache she had and to think some things through. What she normally did in the shower.

She wanted so much more from so much of her life. the main offender of seemingly not being enough for her was Jason. Not because she didn’t want more, but because she craved more from him. He was injured, so she wouldn’t get much more rom him for the time being, and it stung a little for her. She just wanted him, maybe sexually, maybe in a more romantic setting or maybe just on her couch on a Thursday afternoon. It was all three of those options and she knew it.

She pulled out of the shower and looked at the time, 6:50am. Okay, she thought, little more time than I wanted to spend in the shower, but I guess the universe had different plans for me today. What else do you have for me, universe? And how much of you plan involves Jason?

She would open her phone after quickly getting dressed. While she still cared for her appearance, she didn’t want to dress like she owned a law firm every day, so she didn’t. Just black jeans and a black top and she felt like a million bucks.

Just some quick outfit inspo. I like doing these a lot. I think fashion is funky :))

Artemis had sent her a message asking where she was at around 4am, she wondered why the time, but she then remembered that Artemis’ boyfriend worked with Dick Grayson, who was Jason’s brother, who worked most nights until radical hours of the night. The chances that he saw her on her two-hour walk home was high, but the chances that that had also made it back to Jason was higher. She knew she was in for it.

Hey sorry, I was at Jason’s. Fell asleep in his arms the whole shebang. And yeah, that was me who screamed the yo momma joke at the press. It was super childish, I know, but I don’t care. Those fucks are sucking my life force out of me and harassing my boyfriend, even your boyfriend.

She would then look at the articles calling her a gold digger and worth-nothing childish insulter of the press. She laughed. If the press wanted a fight from her, she was more than willing to oblige and load the canons.

She didn’t know how to fight back that well, since it was a mainly verbal fight, and she barely even knew how to fight physically, hence all the running and non-confrontational arguments she had had to the press.

And like fucking clockwork, Jason texted her.

Did you walk home alone or are my brothers lying bastards?

I walked. I knew someone saw me, fuck.

Why did you walk home? I thought you drove here?

I did, but we spent more than 12 hours together Jason. I didn’t buy enough hours, suddenly my car was being towed.

You could have asked for a ride home from Alfred! He would have in a heartbeat.

I was going to! But I got distracted and it all became a blur and suddenly I was part of the way home in the dark by myself!

What if you had gotten hurt?

Well, I saw one of the vigilantes of the city on the rooftops, I’m sure if I screamed they would have seen me. They always do see that stuff.

So, your car got towed huh?

Yeah, I don’t know when I’ll be able to pay it off. It’s not exactly like money my parents give me should go to my car getting towed because I got fucked over by seeing my boyfriend.

You’ll figure it out. Sorry about the car, that’s got to suck fucking ass.

You think? I’m stuck taking the fuckin’ subway till I get my car back. I hate the subway, too many people. Far too many people. Too many eyes. It gets stressful really quickly. Might just walk every where honestly, I can’t deal with the eyes of strangers.

But you’re a C-list celebrity.

Internet is different. I can just block the bad eyes and move on with my life, you should see my block list now that some people are connecting my name to the girl who flipped off the press, thank god Twitter has a fuckin block feature.

You should really just meet my family so you don’t have to run away before they get home, would probably cause you a lot less financial stress, Y/N.

I’ll think about it.

You should think a little harder about it. I don’t want you to get your car impounded ‘cause you’re seeing me, why did you even park in pay-to-park?

Did you not see the massive mob trying to get to you? It was impossible for me to even try to pull into the driveway. Hence why I’m being insulted, you know, ‘cause I yelled at the press to get them to leave me alone. I fucking hate the press, you’re stabbed, severely injured last time they got information, and they’re harassing me, asking me what I like to do on the weekends.

Fucking vultures. Yeah, I’ve seen that. I’ve read the articles. But that’s the press for you, absolute trash and spitting bullshit in everyway.

Fucking hate the press, that’s for damn sure. Despise them. I won’t ever change that, even if, knock on wood, we break up.

Praying we don’t break up so I can see you lose your shit at the press when you’re bored.

She would get up to go make some coffee, since it was closer to 7:20am and if her roommate woke up, she could just tell her to get up anyway.

The press can suck my dick. she said.

You have a dick?

Oh yeah. Massive. 20ft long. It probably won’t even fit all the vultures.

Oh my god, that’s not as big as mine.

lmfao is it now?

Oh yeah.

Nice.

Anyway, my brothers are staying home from school today, I think they’re making me play Resident Evil 8 with them? You know that game?

Of course. Everyone in that game is infinitely hot.

Are you bi?

I don’t know. Haven't thought that far ahead to actually label myself. I just like people. Sometimes it’s men, sometimes it’s women. But you have to agree when you see them all. That game came out when I was still in high school, so I’ve played the entire thing. My phone background is actually one of the characters.

Which one?

I’ll show you if I come over tonight.

My brothers might be in my room, though.

Okay, but, RE8 is an amazing game. So, worth it.

You won’t meet them normally but I pull out a game you love and you’re down?

I’m very easy to convince.

You still have notes to write when you come over though.

Oh yeah, I was probably going to have to come over both ways, just because I need those notes and you do too.

Do you not own a printer?

I barely even own a laptop, I’m waiting for my old one to come in the mail.

How do you even manage?

With a whole lot of will and spite, anything is possible.

And that’s when her discord group chat @’ed her. She was on Do Not Disturb because she was Jason, and apparently they missed her.

Y/N! C’mere. One said.

Yes? Whatduhya want nerds?

We’ve decided to hold a fake internet wedding between you and Christopher. Another said.

A what.

We’re getting married!

Sometimes I wish I never left Metropolis and then I remember you fucks live there. Why are we doing this? You do know I have a boyfriend right? She asked them.

I don’t know, we’re bored and we miss you. We can have a bachelorette party in Gotham, if you want.

I’m this close to going back on DND.

The group chat was made way back when they had all first met in grade 9 and had been active ever since. They all had stayed in the city when they graduated though, but since Y/N received a scholarship, fully paid for, she took the opportunity and jumped.

They were some of her closest friends, even if they lived in a different city to her now, even if they were all busy with school, even if she was busy with school and a boyfriend, A lot of her life wouldn’t be complete without her crack friends in her hometown.

They had all ben partying like crazy while she was gone, and if she wasn’t so hung up in her own life, she’d probably be down there with them.

Before you do, can you please explain why you’re screaming at the press, lmao.

Because fuck the press, dude. Why else?

What did they do to you?

Have you seen the recent articles?

That’s true.

She laughed and finished her coffee. Jason had not responded yet, she assumed his brothers were either checking on him or they had started the game. It was around 8am when A/N finally left her room.

“I thought you were staying with Jason?”

“I was, but then I remembered he has like 9 siblings and I’m not about to meet them all. Then I walked home.”

“You walked?”

“Car got towed.”

“Fuck, can you afford the bill? I can’t.”

“Nope.”

“Guess we’re going to take the subway for a while, huh.”

She sighed and put her cup in the sink, “At least you don’t have school to go to and your lover comes to meet you, I have shit to do and places to be,” she frowned, “Inconvenient.”

“Could you borrow money from Jason’s dad?”

“I don’t borrow money from family, it’s hard enough for me to accept the money my parents send me.”

“I know it is, when’s your class?”

“3pm, I’ll be leaving at 12pm though, because the subway is unreliable.”

“This is going to be a hard hit for us.”

“Well, it’s not like it’s fucking your credit. Mine’s tanking.”

“You’ll pull through it.”

-------------------------------------------

She got onto the subway at 12:30pm. She really hated the way it was running. The people, the faces, the staring eyes of unwanted attention. People knew who she was and she hated it. She didn’t like the attention, she just liked the fucking with people. She wanted to get off the subway the minute she got on.

She eventually couldn’t take it and got off a few stops away, there was still a substantial walk towards the college, but she knew it would be. She even brought a leather jacket with her so that she could walk if she couldn’t take it anymore.

And there she was, in the busy streets of Gotham, walking to her college. Barely aware of the people who did stare at her, because she just kept walking, lost in her thought but aware of the people in her trail, the cross walks and the lights she was waiting for occasionally. She just kept walking until Artemis met up with her,

“Hey! I didn’t know you were walking to school today,” Artemis said.

“Oh! I didn’t want to, my car got towed though.”

“Your car got towed? That sucks so much. Well, we’re going the same way, so I’ve decided I’m going to walk with you, you get no say.”

“Of course. I was going to ask if you wanted to,” she laughed, “It’s more fun with a friend anyway, Art.”

“So, how are things with you and Jason, I’m legally obliged to ask as one of his friends.”

“Well, we made it official if that’s the kind of thing you want to hear,” she laughed again, “I’m sure it’s the answer Dick will eat up.”

“You’re right about that one. Dick’s a sucker for a romantic story, you should write one, since you write. He’d probably read it all.”

“Well, that would be fun, but I still don’t have my laptop.”

“You could use Jason’s?” Artemis suggested..

“Nah. It’ll be fine,” she said, “I’ll manage.”

“Aren’t you collecting notes for him for your psychology class?”

“I am, it’s not like he can go anywhere. I actually told him he’d need to walk eventually so that it’s not a learning curve when he’s healed.”

“That’s what all of us are telling him too, he’s a stubborn man, good luck with that one,” Artemis laughed, “He’s always been the stubborn friend. Worse than Will, actually, and Will is really bad with being stubborn.”

“It’s fine,” she laughed, “If you asked any of my Metropolis friends they’d say the same about me.”

“I bet you were quite the wild child in your heyday back in your city,” Artemis laughed, “I hate Metropolis.”

“Who doesn’t? It’s so crowded.”

“Uh, Clark doesn’t. He thrives there, no idea why, he grew up in Smallville. If anyone should be uncomfortable with Metropolis it should be the small-city country boy, but I guess it’s his thing.”

“I forget you know everyone.”

“We know a lot of people, are you’re slowly being let into our massive circle of very well-known people. Welcome to the group, I guess,” she laughed, “You'll either hate or love the fame that comes from this.”

“Well, if its paparazzi and press, I think I’ll hate it.”

“I can promise you right now that it’s not all paparazzi and press, we haven’t been bothered today, probably because we are on the move.”

“You shouldn’t say that, you’ll jinx it.”

“I know a lot about not jinxing it, but that’s a story for another time,” Y/N noticed that when Artemis said this her eyes glazed over and she looked upset.

“You don’t ever have to talk to me about something you’re not ready to talk about,” Y/N reassured her.

“Hey, the trauma makes me funny.”

“Two can play that game.”

They would ramble on for the rest of the walk to their college. Nothing really of substance, just getting to know each other further. She was glad she found a friend in Artemis, it would have sucked if the two of them didn’t get along, but with each word they exchanged, they had so much fun.

She even told Artemis about that time she played Katherine Howard in her school’s budget play of Six - The Musical. She was proud of the riffs she was able to do, but she didn’t talk about it often. She was never the type of brag about her achievements, no matter how amazing they were.

But Artemis and Y/N parted ways and Y/N went to her class and wrote the same, boring, scribbly and barely legible notes. She figured eventually she’d need nicer handwriting, but did she want to work on it? No.

When she finished, she saw Artemis and who she could only assume to be Wally, at Artemis’ class doors. She waved to Artemis, before Artemis called her over.

“Y/N! Hey, I would ask how class is, but this is Wally,” she gestured to the red-head boy beside her, and Y/N held out her hand to shake Wally’s.

“Hi, Wally.”

“Y/N. It’s nice to meet you since Jason can’t shut up about you and my girlfriend likes you a lot.”

“Well that's sweet of you Artemis. You’re just so in love with me,” Y/N joked.

“Girl. You know it,” Artemis joked back.

“You two already have a close bond? That’s impressive,” Wally said, “Never seen anyone win over any of my friends this quickly,” he muttered.

They joked for a little while longer, just getting to know Wally before she had to go, she had to get to Jason’s.

The walk was a while away, so she went and sat on a park bench for a minute to check her phone, Jason had texted her.

Hey baby, are you coming over?

I am, yes. I actually just met Wally.

You met Wally and I wasn’t there to see it? C’mon.

Artemis introduced us! Go yell at her.

Oh. Never mind. I won’t do that.

Ha! Scared of her?

Maybe a little, she can be scary, okay?

You can’t tell but I’m laughing at you.

Dhmu.

That’s fine, I’ll just go hang out with Alfred and not you. He seems like he would be spiteful like me.

That’s unfair.

I thought you said don’t hit me up?

Fuck.

Checkmate.

I am upset.

No you’re not.

No I’m not.

She would walk down the street further, maybe within a couple steps to reach the Manor, when a man dragged her into an alleyway. She yelped.

“Uh, hello? Can I help you?” she asked, pretending she wasn’t terrified.

“How much would Bruce give me for you?” the attacker mumbled before he tried to knock her to the ground, but she had another plan.

He grabbed her, put his face close to hers, and she head-butted him, he would stumble back, and she started running to the Manor.

“Come here you fucking bitch!” he screamed. She could feel her nose bleeding as she ran and ran, the security saw her and pulled her into the gateway before drawing their guns and urging her to run to the steps of the Manor.

And she ran. The security at the door saw her and let her in, and yelled for Alfred.

“What is this nonsense, oh,” Alfred paused when he saw the blood running out of Y/N’s nose, “Miss Y/N, what happened to you?” he asked before grabbing her hand and pulling her into the entry-way bathroom and opening a first-aid kit.

“Okay so, what happened was I was walking to the Manor because my car got towed right? And this fucking bastard dude pops out from an alleyway and pulls me into it, asks some bullshit about how much Bruce would pay for me, when he grabbed me and tried to knock me down, when I head-butted him and started running,” she said, completely unphased.

Alfred didn’t respond to her and started to stop the bleeding when Bruce called for him, “In the entry-way bathroom, Master Wayne!” he answered.

Bruce came around the corner and saw Alfred was already tending to Y/N, “Well, this is the event where I meet my son’s girlfriend, when she is bleeding and running from a strange man in an alleyway.”

“Heh, sorry,” she said and outstretched her hand to shake his, “It’s nice to finally meet you, Bruce.”

“I can tell you’re going to be quite the addition to this household,” he said as he took her hand and shook it, “As long as you’re okay.”

“I’m okay.”

“That’s good. I guess you can’t get mad at Jase for being a reckless man now.”

“I really can’t.”

“Alright, you should be good, Miss Y/N.”

“Thank you, Alfred. But you really didn’t have to.”

“I’ve been taking care of 5 boys and 3 girls since most of them were little, Miss Y/N. A little blood is really no big deal for me to handle.”

“That’s obvious.”

“You can go see the boys now, they’re going to ask you though,” Bruce said.

“I know.”

She walked to Jason’s room, hoping that he wouldn’t have all of his siblings in the room, he did though.

“Hey, Y/N- what the fuck happened to you?” Jason exclaimed when she opened the door.

“Oh great, all your siblings are here. Anyway, I guess,” she paused, taking in a big breath so she could run through the events quickly, “So I was walking here ‘cause my car got towed, right? When some fucking bastard man grabs me and yanks me into an alleyway and starts going off about how much Bruce will pay him to get me back or something,” she paused again, “And when he tried to knock me down by getting really close and personal to my face, like an idiot I should add, I head-butted him.”

“You did what?’

“I’m not done yet, met your dad when I actually had blood running out of my nose because that's just my fucking luck. Okay, now you can be disappointed in me,” she joked.

“I will say again, you did what?”

“Something stupid?” she said.

“You could say that again, my god, what went through your head?”

“Uh, nothing. Just survival. Fight or flight but I head-butted a man, and hi, everyone.”

“Hi, Y/N, I’m Dick,” Dick said, “You clearly are meant for Jason,” he joked, “That's something he would do.”

“Don’t encourage her, Dick!”

Stephanie got up and greeted her, “You know, Y/N, I always wanted a crazy sister,” she joked, “I’m Stephanie, the black-haired girl is Cass, and the red-head is Barbara.”

“Me too,” Cass hopped onto the joke.

“It’s something else when you meet the girl your brother is dating after she head-butted a man, apparently,” Y/N laughed, “I know it’s far-fetched-”

“Not really,” Tim cut her off, “You know Jason protected Will when they were attacked?”

“That’s Tim, by the way,” Dick said.

“So you can’t yell at me for head-butting a man!” Y/N joked at Jason while going to sit beside him, he slinged an arm around her shoulder and leant his head into her head.

“Well, you seem like a nice enough girl,” Barbara said, “Take away the reckless behavior, and you are lovely.”

“That is valid, to be honest. Not exactly the way you want to meet your brother’s girlfriend.”

“You think?” Jason asked, sarcastically.

“Ha ha.”

“See, she thinks I’m funny, why can’t you fucks?”

Y/N laughed and then asked Dick, who was playing RE8 at the time, staring at the photo of Donna Bentiveno, “She’s cute, isn’t she, Dick?”

“Have I been staring?”

“Let’s just say Angie is probably very pissed at you.”

“Oh! Whoops. There’s a point to this, I forgot.”

“I don’t blame you, I remember forgetting there was a point and the little bitch devil doll would attack you.”

“Language.”

“Oh no, you’re lame. Gross.”

“Excuse me?” Dick asked as the rest of the room erupted in laughter.

“Do you guys see why I like her now?” Jason asked.

“Uh no, she’s mean,” Dick said.

“You’re going to die if you don’t start paying attention, Dick,” Y/N said.

“Oh!” and he died.

“And that kids, is why we listen to the person who’s 100%’ed the game.”

------------------------------

Y/N and Jason would spend hours with his brothers and sisters until the sun started to set and they all scattered to their own rooms to do their own things. you can’t keep a lot of kids in one room for so long.

Once everyone left, Y/N placed her hands on Jason and kissed him, she was actually able to be laid on his pillow, he was able to pin her to the bed. And they did just that. He was on top of her, using his one arm to prop himself up and using his other hand to touch her face.

Her hands found their way into his hair like they always did, she found a lot of joy in playing with his hair. Their tongues danced together, they never fought or anything, they just enjoyed each other when Jason let out a small moan and she let out a small laugh.

“Keep it in your pants, Tiger,” she joked, “You’re not fully healed.”

“You literally smashed your face into another man but I can’t moan when I kiss you?”

“Because I know you want more.”

“Hell yeah I do,” he said as he went back for more, actually using his strength to keep her to the bed, but she didn’t protest this time.

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