#and I’m not talking about the moments where they’re supposed to look bad in the show

[angstitty]

HIMYM is great because the first time you watch it you can’t understand how all these nice people are friends with Barney who’s lowkey an asshole and then 3 years later you watch the show again and realize they’re all dickheads

[misswynters]

hands off

featuring. sevika x reader

requested by @ekkosh

The Last Drop. A place where everyone goes to unwind with a heavy drink. It was buzzing with its usual sounds of music, chatter, and the clink of glasses. You were sitting on a high stool near the counter, sipping on your drink as Sevika had gone to grab another round for the two of you. The air was thick with smoke and the scent of spilt ale, but you’d grown used to the atmosphere of bar. It was part of being with Sevika: her world, her places, her people. As you tapped your fingers along to the bass heavy tune playing in the background, a man slid into the seat beside you, leaning closer than necessary.

“Hey there, gorgeous,” he slurred slightly, though his eyes sparkled with intent. “Haven’t seen you here before. You come here often?”

You gave him a polite but firm smile, hoping the subtle tilt of your body away from him would send the message. “I’m here with someone,” you replied abruptly, however the man didn’t seem to care.

“Oh, come on now,” he chuckled, leaning even closer, his cologne and alcohol mixing into a nauseating cloud. “Whoever they are, they’re not here now. Why don’t you let me keep you company?”

Before you could respond, sevika loomed over the both of you. The change in the air was immediate: it was heavier, charged, like a storm about to break. She stood there, towering you with her metal arm shining under the dim bar lights. She didn’t say anything at first, letting her sheer presence do the talking as she took in the scene with a cold gaze.

“Is there a reason you’re talking to my girl?” she asked, her voice low and smooth but laced with unmistakable anger.

The man froze, his confidence wavering as he turned to face her. “I-I didn’t know she was taken,” he stammered, his bravado evaporating under Sevika’s glare. You couldn’t believe your ears, the guy was lying right in front of you, but you held back trying to tell the actual truth. Knowing that sevika will handle it, for the most part.

“Well, now you do,” Sevika said, stepping closer, her height and broad shoulders making him look comically small in comparison. “And unless you want to find out how hard this arm can hit, I suggest you fuck off. Now.”

The man raised his hands in mock surrender, his face pale. “Alright, alright, I’m going,” he muttered, practically tripping over himself as he fled.

Once he was out of sight, Sevika turned her attention to you, her hard expression softening. “You okay?” she asked, her voice quieter now, but still gruff with residual tension.

You smirked up at her, unable to resist teasing. “I don’t know, Sev. I think I could’ve handled him. He wasn’t that bad.”

Her eyes narrowed, though there was a flicker of amusement behind them. “Don’t start with me,” she warned, but the corner of her lips twitched into a small smirk as she placed her hand possessively on your waist.

“Oh, come on,” you teased further, leaning into her and resting your hand on her chest. “You’re kind of sexy when you’re all protective like that. Big, bad Sevika swooping in to save the day.”

Her gaze darkened but not with anger. She leaned down, her lips brushing against your ear as she whispered, “Keep running that mouth, babe, and I’ll show you just how protective I can be when we get home.”

Your cheeks flushed at her tone, and you bit your lip to hide the grin threatening to spread across your face. “Is that supposed to scare me?” you challenged, though your voice came out softer than you intended.

Sevika chuckled, the sound low and rumbling as she cupped your cheek with her hand. “It’s not a threat,” she murmured, her thumb brushing your skin. “It’s a promise.” The two of you stayed like that for a moment, the noise of the bar fading into the background. You felt safe, wrapped in her presence. Eventually, Sevika pulled back slightly, her lips curving into a smirk.

“You’re lucky I didn’t break his nose,” she said, half-joking. “Next time, though, don’t even let it get that far. Call me over sooner.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, though the sincerity in her voice didn’t go unnoticed. “Fine, fine. But you have to admit, it’s kind of nice seeing you get all worked up over me.”

Sevika huffed, shaking her head with a small grin. “Annoying,” she muttered, though the affection in her tone was undeniable.

As the night wore on, the two of you stayed close, her arm draped protectively around your shoulders. You couldn’t help but feel a little smug. After all, how many people could say they had someone like Sevika willing to scare off sleazy bar patrons and look damn good doing it?

“Ready to head home?” she asked eventually, her lips brushing against your temple in a rare display of public affection.

“Yeah,” you replied, resting your head against her shoulder. “But don’t think I’m letting you off the hook. I want to see this ‘promise’ of yours in action.”

Sevika smirked, her eyes glinting with mischief as she led you out of the bar. “Oh, darling,” she said, her voice low and teasing. “You’re in for one hell of a night then.”

taglist. @blckbny @ch-bl0gsss @b-lossm @fortluocha @ekkosh @limereance @wolfessa @themostlesbianever @simonapietra @1-800-fantasy @saikikittykusuo @sevikaishot @sugarplumz100 @chaostudi @wxwrites @m-0-mmy-l-0-ver33 @robzo4 @puppyphia @xreadersarchive @boom58 @d3adbrainer @kylorey25 @slutmeoutfortoge @yaeil @sapphicarribean @randomperson291 @mvistl @hellokittyfeenie @literallyimthenerdemoji @nikaachuuuu @prettysupplicant @iamaboringrattat

[star-girl69]

I Did Something Bad

Clarisse La Rue x Fem!Demigod!Reader

—-

synopsis: you somehow become the target of a deadly vendetta, and it ends in an overnight stay in the infirmary, a lot of blood, and a lot of your scary girlfriend being her scary self.

a/n: save me clarisse “touch her and die” la rue save me save me save me save me save me save me… this is a completely self indulgent fic and no i will not apologize. love y’all!!!!!

inspired by an ask @nvirskies sent me

I Did Something Bad - Taylor Swift

warnings: not proofread, VERY VIOLENT AND GRAPHIC DESCRIPTIONS OF Y/N GETTING INJURED!!!!! BLOOD!!!!! WOUNDS!!!!! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED, anyways…. DANNNNNYYYYYY MY BABY!!!!! HES BACK!!!!!, ares cabin bonding time <3, FOUND FAMILY, y/n is crazy too, insane power couple who are insane together!!, y’all know what’s going on…… protective clarisse, possessive clarisse, insane clarisse, murderous clarisse, again clarisse gets a bit too into capture the flag, swearing, attempted murder!, LOTS of violence, kissing, clarisse hates talking about her feelings but she will do it for y/n, tell me if i missed anything!!

—-

Clarisse loves capture the flag.

It’s the one place where she really gets to be in her element. That’s where she prefers to be- in the moment, hard and fast, a flurry of swords and adrenaline and the feeling of someone surrendering.

Of course, Clarisse is never the one surrendering. You don’t think you’ve ever seen someone surrender to her.

Clarisse loves capture the flag.

And that love is also shared by her equally violently-minded siblings, which is why you’re sitting on her lap in the middle of the Ares cabin, listening to everyone scream and shout about tactics and plans and things that are just general boring.

Clarisse, of course, listens to everything. Silently humming to herself, drumming her fingers against your stomach, rolling her eyes and scoffing silently at some of her siblings ideas.

They all shout out ideas, but everyone knows that Clarisse has the final say.

You should probably be preparing with your own cabin- but this is just so much fun.

The tension in the room rises significantly after Nelson shuts down another one of Carrie’s ideas. Carrie has a mind made for the strategy of battle, where Nelson is all tough war and pain.

Clarisse likes to brag that she’s the perfect mix of both.

“I’m bored,” you huff, leaning back into your girlfriend. “Can they start punching each other again? Or something entertaining?”

She laughs and wraps her arms around your waist, kissing your shoulder. “You’re so violent,” she mumbles. “I’m supposed to be the violent one.”

“I jus’ think it’s really funny,” you shrug. “Like, can you blame me? It’s objectively funny.”

Danny, your favorite of Clarisse’s siblings, skitters through his older siblings and throws himself onto the couch next to you.

“Did they start fighting yet?” he asks, practically bouncing in his seat.

“No,” you sigh, dramatically.

Clarisse puts her arm around his shoulder, and you know she feels ridiculously proud over the fact that she’s the favorite of the most lovable member of the Ares cabin, and the fact you’re literally draped over her.

Not your fault she’s so comfy.

“Hey, how you feelin’ about tomorrow?” you ask Danny.

His face hardens. “I’m gonna fuck a bitch up.”

“Oh, my Gods,” you mutter, listening to Clarisse chuckle and pat his back.

“Hell yeah,” she smiles.

“Good!” you say after a second, feeling slightly disturbed over the 11 year-old’s colorful language. But, who are you to stop him?

Clarisse sighs after a moment, and you look up to see Carrie and Nelson finally at each other’s throats. Besides for the fact it’s just so funny when the siblings fight, they should get all of the anger out now so they can work as a team tomorrow.

“Well, no, Nelson, we aren’t gonna fucking ‘kill them with kindness,’ because that’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Hey, fuckers,” Clarisse says, but they’re too absorbed in the fight to hear her.

You scramble off of her, climbing over Danny, watching in amazement as he opens the bag of pretzels he did not have in his hand a second ago- stuffing one in his mouth and holding it out to you.

These pretzels might have been buried in between the couch cushions. But they’re sealed, so who cares.

“You know what, fuck you, Carrie!” Nelson shouts, pushing her back.

“Askin’ for it,” she laughs, winding up and punching him straight in the face.

You can’t feel bad for the crunch, because Nelson should have know Carrie was gonna punch him- he could have at least put in an effort to stop her. Instead, he just stood there and took it.

“Oh,” Matty winces, sliding next to you. Why the hell are random things just appearing? Did he come out of the cushions too? Probably, seeing as he’s always falling asleep. “Askin’ for it,” he mumbles, shaking his head.

Nelson recovers from the hit and jabs at Carrie- but she stands there, hand on her hip, completely still.

Clarisse catches his arm.

He’s breathing out heavily, and the room goes pretty much silent- except for you, Danny and Matty chomping on pretzels in the corner of the couch.

“You’re fuckin’ embarrassing, Nelson.”

He pulls himself away from her and huffs, heading to the bathroom to deal with his bright red cheek.

Clarisse sighs heavily.

“Gods, can’t have one night without someone punching someone.”

Carrie looks around the room with a smug smile, scoffing when Clarisse shoulders her as she walks past. She lays down in your waiting arms, kissing your hand as you wrap them around her.

“Gettin’ on my nerves,” she mumbles, closing her eyes and leaning into you.

“I know,” you soothe, turning around and making a silly face to Danny at her dramatics.

—-

Nelson is obviously still angry the next day. His helmet doesn’t cover all of the nasty bruise on his cheek, a sickening purple against his tan skin.

Him and Carrie swap glares across the the throngs of red helmets.

“Okay, Carrie, stop,” you huff. “He might actually kill you. You’re the one who got a punch in- let it go.”

She turns to glare at you, now.

“Tell him to stop staring at me.”

“Well, you can help by looking away first.”

“Fine,” she mumbles, putting her helmet on and tightening her grip on her sword. Chiron made his usual speech around 10 minutes ago, and Clarisse has finally finished updating everyone- more like yelling incoherently at everyone- about their positions.

But you have a similar strategy.

The blue team has the brains of the Athena Cabin, but the red team has all the brute strength.

Clarisse huffs, walking over to you and Carrie.

“Okay, ready?” she asks, reaching over to tighten the straps of your armor- even through they’re perfectly fine- by habit.

Carrie let’s out a deep breath. “Yes. Very ready to fuckin’ pummel those blue shits and pretend they’re Nelson.”

“That’s the spirit!” you smile, slapping her shoulder. She rolls her eyes and steps away from you, smiling slightly.

Danny and Matty walk over, and your little band is complete. You hunt in the woods just south of the flag, deterring a lot of hopefuls. The older campers know to come up with sneakier ways to get by, but Clarisse is otherwise confident in those she placed by the flag to really protect it.

You strike out into an offensive stance, pointing the end of your blade straight at Danny- and he quickly counters with his own impeccable stance.

“Oh, yeah, they don’t stand a chance,” you smile, and he returns it.

—-

You take your normal routes through the woods.

With the added weight of you and Danny, the group is not as stealthy as they could be- but Clarisse is a secret teddy bear who doesn’t like to be away from you for long, and Danny is too young to be set loose, left to watch the big kids work, occasionally jumping in for a few swings.

Leaves crunch under your feet in the otherwise silent forest. You’ve already come across a few stragglers, and before you could even raise your sword the Ares siblings had disarmed them. Your heart squeezed seeing the absolutely heartbroken look on Danny’s face- he was promised that this time he could really fight.

And after you pulled Clarisse off to the side and reminded her of her deal- Danny was leading the group, with you and Clarisse behind him.

He marches tall and proud, sword pointed out, even though Clarisse scolds him and says his arm will get tired- he’s young and doesn’t listen to his half-sibling.

You smile, watching him, admiring how carefree he is. The walk continues mostly in a stealthy silence- Clarisse, Carrie and Matty has mastered the art of walking silently- so your cover is lost by you and Danny.

Of course, whenever you try to convince Clarisse that maybe you should go somewhere else- she looks at you like you’ve suddenly turned into a female Minotaur.

Clarisse, her hand in yours right now, has a hard time understanding the concept that she can’t be with you all the time. That you might get hurt, that she can’t always stop it.

It’s sweet how constantly concerned she is over you, it makes your stomach twist so good.

She squeezes your hand, bringing you out of your reverie. Voices.

“Danny,” you whisper, almost silently, kicking the back of his leg. When he turns around, frown on his face, you point towards the direction of the voices- and now footsteps.

You all stop in your tracks.

Danny practically jumps up in down, you smile wide, and Clarisse signals to Carrie and Matty, urging you and Danny closer to the action.

When they come into the clearing, a few Hermes kids dressed in blue bandanas, swords in their hands. They’re all strong, you’ve seen them around- recognize them vaguely as potentials that lost to Clarisse in ugly sparring matches.

The siblings have disappeared into the trees.

So it’s just you, unsuspecting, and Danny.

You can see the triumphant looks on their faces.

Except for one of them.

Nicky, maybe? You don’t care enough about him to know his name. But there’s something more in his eyes that you notice immediately, something similar to the passion Clarisse gets in her eyes at the mention of this game.

Danny jumps forward, sword swinging just the way his blood knows, the way his siblings have taught him meticulously.

They seem momentarily surprised at the force his small body can produce, quickly countering with their own jabs, swords clashing together. The other focuses on you.

You’re not worried, you know the siblings are just letting the two of you have your moments before they really come in and you can sit back and watch Clarisse fight. Muscles rippling, sick smile on her face, spear glowing with electricity.

He comes at you and your swords clash together, the force of it making your teeth ring- Gods, he’s strong. He pulls back and you do the same thing a few more times, neither of you able to get the upper hand- until he finally seems to realize his height advantage.

He swings his sword down on you, pressing down hard- and with gravity on his side you have to put all of your focus into stopping that downward sword.

You don’t see his foot coming out to kick you back.

You only feel it, boot in your chest, wind knocked out of you, groaning as you slam into the ground.

“Fuck,” you breathe, tasting blood in your mouth.

“Y/N!” Danny shouts, and that’s when you see his sword coming down on you again. He does it on purpose, that much is sword, the strategic placing of his sword slicing through the top of your arm.

He doesn’t mean to kill you. He means to hurt you.

His purpose isn’t winning the game, you realize as the blade tears through skin, his purpose is to hurt you. That’s what you saw in his eyes.

Delight that his prey was right in front of him.

The realization washes over you like a wave- but like the real ocean, another one comes- an overwhelming feeling of pain, blooming outward like a flower.

He bites his lip in concentration, standing over you as his blade sinks into the dirt. He smiles wide, hitting his target.

You scream.

It’s a quick stop. The clearing is filled with the sound of your screams, swords stopping in midair- everyone realizing simultaneously that you’re really hurt. That this boy hurt you on purpose.

Something cuts through the air, wind in your ears, swiftly burying itself through Nicky’s armor and into his side.

You’ve realized in the last day that men are stupid. First, it was Nelson not expecting to get punched, and now it was Nicky not prepared for a retaliation after hurting you.

The thick armor slowed down the spear, so it unfortunately stabs his side and falls right out.

He yells in pain, ripping off his armor, revealing a small cut. Nothing compared to yours, but you can faintly recognize the fire in his eyes before Matty is leaning over you and Carrie is wrapping a bandana above the pain in your arm.

You hear the sounds of something happening, someone fighting, skin on skin.

You hear all of this, you see all of it, but all you can feel is the burning, burning cut in your arm. It feels like he cut it off. Your mind is hazy, you know blood is gushing, you never knew something could hurt this bad.

You faintly realize you bit your tongue when you went down. Blood spurts from your mouth when you cough, when you groan in pain, when you say her name like a prayer over and over again.

“Clarisse,” you moan, legs twisting around, trying to get away from the pain that you can’t escape from. “Clarisse, Clarisse, please, Clar…”

Matty pulls your head into his lap.

You can tell it’s bad, you can see the queasy look on his face. You clench your fist- the one you can feel, at least- to keep from screaming, heels digging into the dirt. You’re still trying to get away. But you can’t. You can’t get away from this all consuming pain.

“It’s okay,” Danny whispers, suddenly appearing next to you. He voice shakes, he doesn’t know, he can’t tell you anything reassuring.

“Can you go find someone, Danny? One of the Apollo kids, anyone?”

He ignores Carrie, starring at you for a second longer.

“Y/N,” he mumbles, his voice quiet, finally able to act like the young boy he is.

“You can go,” you breathe, somehow finding the strength to make him believe you’re okay. “Go help me, okay?”

His little footsteps disappear into the woods faster than you’ve ever heard him run, even when they have his favorite brownies for dessert.

You let out a sob.

“D-did he cut it off?” you moan. “It feels like he cut it off, please tell me he didn’t… he didn’t cut my arm off…”

“Oh, fuck, no,” Carrie breathes, pressing down agains the wound to try and stop the blood from gushing out- but it doesn’t really help. It’s just too much. “I mean, it’s deep and it’s nasty, but you’ve still got an arm, don’t worry.”

She laughs, awkwardly, nervously. You can feel even more of your arm drifting away, blood pouring out onto the ground.

“Hey, hey, no,” Matty mutters, lightly hitting your face.

“Wha-”

“Can’t fall asleep, Y/N,” Carrie says, nervously. “Sit up against Matty, come on, huh?” you lean against Matty, head clearing now that there’s fresh air in your system.

Your eyes focus on Clarisse.

Except she’s not anywhere near you, she’s 10 feet away, punching Nicky so hard you’re surprised he’s still standing.

Carrie cringes. “Okay, maybe don’t look at that.”

But you’re sort of entranced by her. She’s not outwardly angry, her face reveals nothing- just a mask of hard, unrelenting focus. It should scare you, how much concentration she puts into her deadly punches, blood flying with each hit she lands. Her knuckles are red, his face is a mess, but it’s exhilarating to know she would do this for you.

A sickening crack rents the air. “My fucking nose, fuck, fuck, screw you, you fucking bitch! Fuck-”

The smallest smile creeps it way onto her face. She wipes her mouth, leaving blood on her lips- but she doesn’t seem to notice.

“I can keep going!” she shouts back, grabbing his shirt. “You wanna do that shit? I’m only getting started. I’m gonna throw you around, then I’m gonna fuckin’ kill you.”

“Wait! Wait, okay, wait, shit,” he breathes, holding his hands up in surrender. Blood pours from his nose, down to her hand bunched in his shirt. He’s taller than her, yet he’s surrendering.

“You’re pathetic,” she hisses, pushing him back. He hits the ground with a groan, trying to grab for a rock, a sword, anything to defend himself against Clarisse and her fury.

Clarisse loves capture the flag.

One of the reasons why she does is because she gets to let out all her anger. She looks at you, but not in your eyes- she looks at the wound on your arm. You can see the red pouring out of the corner of your eye- but you choose to ignore it, instead focusing on the way the fire inside of her gets relit at the sight of your blood. She has plenty reason to be angry now.

She grabs her spear, sauntering over to him, laughing at the way he can’t even try to get up.

“So fuckin’ stupid,” she smiles, tilting her head. Then the tip of her spear is pointing right at his neck, she’s standing over him the way he did to you. “How’s it feel?” she smiles.

He coughs, hissing in pain.

“I’m scared, Clarisse, okay? You got your fucking revenge, but it wasn’t me.”

She laughs, loud and boisterous. “I just saw you cut her, dumbass. I really should kill you, just as a favor to the world.”

“Paid me,” he coughs. “Drachmas, in exchange for hurting your girlfriend-”

She presses the blade against his throat, he yells out.

“Who?”

He stays silent.

“Who?!” she yells, kicking his stomach.

“Nelson!” he screams. “Nelson! Nelson paid me, please, Clarisse-”

She moves the blade away, and he hisses- she probably just barely drew blood.

“I’m not done yet,” she whispers, deadly promise dripping from her words. She turns around, fades out of focus for a second, and then she’s right next to you.

Her hands are cupping your face, she looks sick, seeing you like this up close- but all she does is kiss your forehead. Like you, she doesn’t want to look at your flesh and blood.

“I’m here, I’m here, oh, fuck. Gods, what the fuck,” she mumbles, looking very pointedly away from the wound, finally seeing how bad it is up close.

“Clarisse.”

“I know,” she whispers, smoothing your hair back. “I know, baby, I know, but it’s gonna be okay.”

Danny runs into the clearing, shouting “just over here” while healers follow him, immediately groaning at the smell of blood, the sight of it.

Clarisse switches places with Matty, holding you against her, kissing your head again and again, muttering about how brave you are.

You almost laugh at the odd looks the Apollo kids give her, unused to seeing the big bad Clarisse so soft. But they just don’t know her like you do. She doesn’t love them like she loves you.

One of them starts to clean the blood, and your eyes drift shut as the other starts to mend your skin back together.

—-

You wake up with familiar curly hair in your face.

You spit it out, groaning, mouth feeling fuzzy, everything feelings fuzzy.

“Clarisse?” you mumble, eyes not even open, but you wake up with that hair in your mouth everyday, and you’ve memorized the weight of her arm around your waist.

She sits up immediately, jumping out of bed, standing up and fixing her messy hair like someone’s gonna be there.

“Um, hello? I was speaking, crazy girl.”

“Oh, thank Gods,” she mumbles, blowing hair out of her face and sitting back down. “Thought we got caught.”

You look at her, then your surroundings-

“Oh, holy shit,” she says, staring at you like a deer in headlights. “Wait, you’re awake. You’re awake!”

She throws her arms around you, burying her face into your neck, reverberating with the sound of your laughter.

“You make it sound like I’ve been in a coma for 10 years.” Your heart drops. “Have I… been asleep for a while?”

“Um,” she says, softly, biting her lip as she extricated herself from your neck. “Capture the flag was yesterday, so… no.”

“So you’re just being dramatic?”

“Possibly,” she smiles. “It’s not my fault you’ve taken over my entire brain.” She shows her bruised knuckles, split open, already starting to scab. “I said not to fix ‘em up. They don’t hurt that bad, and they look fucking cool.”

You grab her hands, relieved it’s only been a day, kissing the rough scabs. She blushes, although she tries her best not to, breathing in deeply.

“How are you feeling, baby?”

You look towards your totally healed arm, finally realizing that you know have full control of your hands, unlike yesterday. It’s wrapped in a bandage for precautions, but it feels totally healed.

“All good,” you smile.

“You gotta take it real easy for the next week or so, yeah?” she fusses, brushing hair behind your ear. “So you call me, or one of my siblings, anyone to help you with anything. No lifting heavy stuff, don’t do anything too fast- you might tear the healing.”

“I don’t suppose you’ll carry me around like a princess?” you giggle, laying back, inviting her into your arms. She gets back under the covers, head against your chest so she can hear your heartbeat.

“That’s not a bad idea, actually. Practical. Very safe.”

You hit her shoulder. “I’m joking.”

“Eh, I’ll change your mind.”

You smile, running your hands through her hair, enjoying the early mornings with her warmth against you, soft sunlight peeking through windows.

She sits up after a moment, laying her head back on the pillow, arm back around your waist. She just sits there for a moment, you can feel her admiring you. Clarisse doesn’t look at you. She traces your face with her eyes, imagining it was her hands, her lips, she admires you like she sees a reverence in your eyes that has nothing to do with your godly parent.

“Can you promise me something?” she asks, whispering softly, even though you’re the only two people around.

“What?” you say, staring at the ceiling, feeling like you might fall back asleep.

“Don’t get hurt. Like, ever again, please.”

You smile. “Okay, baby,” you mumble.

“I’m serious,” she smiles, nudging your cheek with her nose. “I… I was really scared. And I don’t like to feel that way, especially when it comes to you. I was angry, too. I was so fuckin’ angry I’m surprised I didn’t kill him. You can’t get hurt like that, not again, you just gotta let me protect you. Or else I might actually kill someone, Y/N.”

“I know,” you mumble. “I watched you.”

“Did I scare you?” she asks, voice soft. There’s no hint of your loving, smiley Clarisse in this bed right now. She’s worried, as if she could ever scare you.

“No,” you say, honestly. “It’s sweet how far you’re willing to go for me.”

“Yeah,” she mumbles. “You better like it. Do you know what I got for that? Eight months no dessert. Five months cleaning the fuckin’ stables.”

You barely hide your laugh. “Oh, my Gods, are you serious?”

“Yes,” she grumbles. “But, I’ve decided it’s fine. You’re my loving girlfriend, right? You can sit there all pretty so I have something to look at when I’m cleaning. And you’ll share your dessert with me, won’t you?”

“Yeah,” you mumble, turning your head. “I will.”

“I really love you. My perfect pretty princess,” she jokes, smiling lopsidedly, and you return it. “You’ll let me protect you, and maybe I can get some decent sleep at night, huh?”

When she presses her hand to your face and her lips to yours, you think nothing could possible ruin this moment. It’s just you and her, and everything that’s beautiful.

“You always protect me, Clar,” you smile.

She smiles, lips grazing yours. This is your Clarisse. The one who smiles just for you, who puts her rough hand softly against your face. This is your Clarisse, the one who would do anything for you, the one who wants to carry you around, the one who wants to protect you and hold you and never let anyone fuck with her baby.

The door slams open, someone is laughing boisterously, another person is groaning in pain, and a familiar voice is shouting your names.

“Clarisse! Y/N! Clarisse, Clarisse! Y/N, Y/N, Y/N!” Danny shouts, dragging out the last syllable of your name. He jumps onto the bed by your feet, even when Clarisse frowns, looking at you like a puppy dog who’s just brought a dead bird to your doorstep.

And as you look at the scene behind you, Nelson being laid on another bed, Carrie being helped into the corner- laughing hysterically, knuckles split open.

Nelson’s face is practically unrecognizable.

You suppose Danny really did bring something unsavory like a dead bird, dropping it right at your feet.

“So, we all woke up right?”

Your eyes whip to Danny, shocked as he know launches into a story about Carrie waking up to Nelson saying he hadn’t been called to the Big House yet, maybe he would get away from it- but swiftly received punishment in the form of Carrie’s fists. With Clarisse in your bed, no one had the guts to stop them, and they fought for what must have been 10 minutes- Nelson very obviously losing.

“And, now we’re here,” Danny sighs, breathing out after his long and embellished rant. “But you’re awake, Y/N!”

He looks at your skeptically- specifically, at your arm.

“Can I hug you?”

“Oh,” you smile, your heart twisting with such a fondness for this wonderful little kid. “Of course you can, Danny,” you smile, opening your arms wide.

“Yes, just be careful,” Clarisse cautions, her arm around your waist. “Watch the arm, huh?”

“He’s just a baby, Clarisse,” you mumble, breath messing his hair.

“He’s 11.”

“Baby,” you reinforce, squeezing him tighter.

“Y/N… you’re crushing me,” he groans.

“Oops,” you say, letting him go. “You’re just too cute,” you coo.

Clarisse scoffs from next to you. You smile, kissing her cheek. “You’re beautiful. Scary, dangerous. Not cute, though.”

She hums. “Yeah, you’re right.”

Carrie walks over, sporting her split knuckles, also opting to let them heal naturally like Clarisse. She shows them off with a wide smile, even as Nelson screams in the background when they reset his nose.

Matty rubs his temples.

You smile, looking around at your very dysfunctional, very awkward, but loving family-adjacent.

“Hey, did we end up winning the game?” you ask.

Clarisse snorts. “Oh, nah. Without us, they were lost. Who cares, though?”

“Yeah, I liked beating Nelson up much more than I would have liked winning,” Carrie smiles.

“Next time,” Danny starts, “Can I lead again?”

Clarisse squints at him. “…Maybe.”

You wink at him, nodding subtly.

“Okay!” he smiles.

Clarisse kisses your forehead.

“I love you, pretty baby,” she mumbles.

You smile. “I love you too, scary baby.”

—-

clarisse when she sees y/n get hurt: oh so the only natural response to to THROW A FUCKING SPEAR AT SOMEONE

appreciation for the fact she threw it from like really far away and just tore through his armor likkkkeeee

nelson and nicky sitting in the infirmary together hugging each other terrified clarisse and carrie are going to come back for more

nicky does not sleep at night anymore SHE SAID SHE WASNT DONE

—-

shout out to my baby danny he carried this fic fr

shoutout to y/n for getting WRECKED so we could have this beautiful moment w clarisse

shoutout to matty for being his beautiful self

shoutout to carrie for being her violent self

and finally shoutout to clarisse for being overprotective and insane

—-

clarisse after she actually convinced y/n to let her carry her around everywhere: 🤗🤗🤗🤗🤗🤗🤗

bitch is so happy…

—-

taglist:

@lvrue @t-wylia @laughingcheese037 @kroumi @urdeadpoet @colezb @rey26 @harmzilla @elliewilliamsbae @amberfreemansburntface @kyuupidwrites @neverwaakeme-up @shark1008 @liballer @heyimadison @nvirskies @pnsteblnme @mar2ss @restellsss @ravisinghs-wife @marsconer @evangelinexo @randomhoex @luvrrish @rebecca37 @saltair-and-palemoonlight @ace-spades-1

[delusionaldaydreamz]

”round two?” | c.s.

W/C- 1039 | x reader/ y/n

in which y/n teases Chris, and ends up being left turned on over such a simple action (smut warning, not super detailed though I’m bad at writing smut sorry lol// includes name calling and slapping)

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

       I sat across from my boyfriend and his brothers, propped up on their kitchen counter as they sat on the couch. Watching the back of their heads, I decided to have a bit of fun. I quickly typed out a horny message, sending it to my boyfriend and immediately looking up to get his reaction. His head shot up from his phone, quickly looking back at me with wide eyes. I’d heard the sound of his phone locking almost as quickly as he had opened it. He gave me a quick warning look before turning his attention back to Nick and Matt. They had been talking about this months videos and what they were going to film and when. 

        I wasn’t actually horny, I just liked teasing him when he was doing serious things, because hes the easiest person on the planet to make horny. He’s like a teenager going through puberty 24/7. After a few moments I made my way down to his room, making my shuffling extra loud so he’d look back and see where I was going, again just to tease him. I didn’t expect him to get up from their little discussion and follow me, so I was very surprised when he appeared just minutes later. “What the hell?” I chucked looking up at him from the bed. I locked my phone and set it down, sitting up. “What are you doing down here?” “Why are you teasing me right now, y/n?” His voice was lowered as he made his way over to the bed. I hadn’t been horny, but the sight definitely aroused me. “I- what are you talking about?” I asked looking up at him. He rolled his eyes, sexual frustration so apparent in his expressions and tone right now. “I’m trying to work,” he said, unbuckling his belt slowly as he stood at the foot of the bed. “Now they’re gonna know you were down here getting fucked like a little slut when I was supposed to be helping them with videos.” Chris let his pants slip down to his ankles, stepping out of them as he quickly pulled his dick out. “Off,” he tugged at my shorts, to which I happily obliged. He leaned down, harshly kissing me for a few moments before lining himself up. 

        Chris slipped into me, with ease after how wet he had just made me, making a small gasp escape my mouth. “Fuck-“ I groaned out immediately. His pace quickened almost instantly, pounding into me quickly as he clearly tried to rush himself to finish. “Chris!” I moaned out, causing him to extend a hand down to gently slap me. “Shut the fuck up!” He said in a hushed tone, “my brothers are gonna hear you.” Chris’s hand made its way up to my mouth, roughly covering it as he began to thrust even harder and deeper into me. He knew this always made me lose it, and typically he’d only fuck me rough like this when we were home alone because he knows it gets me loud, but it also makes him cum the quickest. “Fuck,” Chris let out his own low groan. “Take that shit off and turn around.” He motioned to my shirt as he slowly pulled out of me. I happily obliged, pulling my shirt over my head before turning around, bending over for him. I’d arch my back a bit extra every time I’d bend over for him, trying to give him a prettier view. He let out a soft hiss as he stared down at me, his hand traveling my side, slapping my ass firmly before he placed his hand on the center of my lower back, slipping himself back into me once again. I tried to muffle my moans as his pace quickened again, hitting me right in my most pleasurable spot each time he’d thrust inward. The sensation was already veering on the edge of too much, so when Chris leaned forward, his chest pressing against my back as his hand snaked around to rub my clit, I’d almost lost it right then and there. “Fuck!” I couldn’t help the moan that escaped my mouth, causing Chris’s free hand to reach up and cover it. “Be quiet baby,” his voice was getting breathless now as he started placing soft kisses along my neck and shoulder causing me to moan more. “Baby,” he said in a warning tone. His pace had slowed down a bit, the moment turning a lot more romantic than desperate, but it didn’t last too long. After a few more slow strokes he picked up the pace again, indicating he was about to cum soon. 

      He quickly pulled out, and I almost instantly felt my back being littered with warm liquid as I collapsed onto the bed. Quickies weren’t usually my favorite, but they could definitely be fun in situations like this. As I turned to carefully look at him without making too much of a mess, my breathing still hard, I saw him pull the shirt off his body, exposing his torso I’d loved so much, as he reached down, using the shirt straight off his back to clean his liquids off of me. I was instantly wet again at the sight, never had he done that before, and never had such a simple action turned me on so much. “Here,” he handed me the shirt, leaning down to place a kiss on my cheek. He was completely oblivious to what he’d just done to me, not even thinking about it as he handed me his shirt to clean any spots he missed. 

      “Round two?” I looked up at him before he had the chance to find a new shirt. “What!?” He exclaimed, an amused smile on his face. “That was so hot, Chris.” I said as he shook his head, putting his pants back on. The amused grin never left his lips. “When we’re done coming up with videos okay?” He leaned down to kiss me again, before finding a new shirt and disappearing back up the stairs, leaving me to fantasize about what I had just witnessed as I laid back in his bed. That man will be the death of me.  •••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

a/n- this seems so short to me sorry lol and also I’m soooo bad at writing smut, soooo once again I’m sorry for the lack of detail and that it’s so short lmao enjoy the concept tho at least 😂

[moonstruckme]

It's me once again! Bothering you twice in a day, I'm annoying like that, ha just kidding. But yes James is soooo wholesome, it's crazy how he became my favorite boy. So Mae, I suppose you are super busy because being such amazing writer is no easy job when you have requests coming all the time but, if you have the time, whenever that is, could you write something about James? Like James being so wholesome, the best boyfriend, the fluffiest thing you can think of, maybe something with words or affirmation and kisses and hugs and just very lovely things, feel like I need that. If you can of course.

Hope you are having a very cool weekend and my username is basically my favorite colors and it has something to do with Van Gogh and my favorite singer but this kid knows something, haha it's so funny, kind of serendipitous if you ask me :) love that. Well, I'm going to set you free, read you soon.

P.S. Sorry this was so loonng

Hi lovely, thanks for requesting!! Sorry this took so long lol, I had to wait until I had an idea that wasn't already in my requests but I appreciate your patience! This is perhaps more hurt/comfort than straight fluff lol, but he is the most wholesome ever <3

cw: concussion

James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 603 words

James’ hand is especially gentle as he strokes over your hair. Your nose dents into his thigh, and his jeans are coarse and scratchy but the slight pressure is nice. 

“Still dizzy?” he asks, carefully quiet. 

“A little.” Your own voice is thin, fraught. “Not as bad.” 

He sighs, and you feel too weird to decipher whether it’s in relief or dismay. “I’m sorry, angel.” He lifts one of your hands to his mouth, kissing the side. “Is it hurting in any one place?” 

“It’s my whole face. But most in my forehead.” 

James’ touch is featherlight, ghosting over the spot where you’d smacked your head on the stairs. “Here?” 

“Mhm.” 

He makes a worried humming sound in response. You sit in silence for some time, and it’s not uncomfortable, but nothing is comfortable for you right now. You feel terrible, unlike yourself and unsettled because of that and also weepy but not as much as you are embarrassed. And dwelling upon any of this for too long makes your head spin worse. You don’t think you’re dying though it feels like you might be. 

The warm bead rolling down your nose brings you to the realization that you’re crying. James’ coo follows a moment later, and his hand splays protectively atop your head. 

“You’re okay, sweetheart. Do you feel alright to sit up?” 

“Okay,” you mumble. 

He does the work for you, though it’s hard to keep track of the movements. One second your head is on his lap and the next you’re propped against his chest, one muscled arm supporting your back while James rests his lips against your forehead. 

“You’re okay,” he promises. “You’re okay, I’ve got you.” 

“I don’t really feel like going to dinner anymore,” you admit, tasting salt as a tear finds its way into your mouth. 

“Oh,” James lifts his lips to look you in the eyes, “honey, I didn’t expect you to. I’m going to call Remus and cancel in a minute, okay?” He brushes a lock of hair away from your face with his pinkie finger, stroking a sweet line down your cheek. “If you go anywhere, it should probably be to the doctor.” 

“No.” You close your eyes, too upset to care about the low whine that escapes you. “What’re they gonna do?” 

“I don’t know, baby.” James traces the same line again. “They might want to do an MRI or something. I’ve had a concussion before, they’re serious business.” 

You sigh, leaning your head on his shoulder. The material of his jumper is soft beneath your cheek. “I can’t think about it right now.” 

There’s a brief pause. 

“Okay. Okay, we can talk about it tomorrow, if it’s still bad then.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“You don’t need to be sorry.” James’ arm wraps around your middle, squeezing lightly in a gentle sort of hug. You think that he’s being very careful with you, which you appreciate. You don’t imagine you could handle much more sensation at the moment. “I know it sucks, angel, and you’re handling it so well. We’re gonna do our best to get you feeling better. I love you so much, you know?” 

You feel like you might cry again. You don’t think you have the energy to stop yourself. “I know,” you tell him. “I love you so much, too.” 

“Heaps and heaps.” He gives you another little squeeze, his ability to repress his affection tenuous at best. “Probably the most anyone has ever loved anyone, if we’re being honest.” 

“James.” 

“Yeah?”

“I can’t do that kind of math right now. I love you a lot, okay?” 

“Okay. Same here.”

[stariikis]

ni-ki as your study date •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

synopsis ; the price you paid for choosing an athletic boyfriend over an academic one? no practical help when you're drowning in mysterious equations and symbols. but at least he's good at comforting the perfectionist in you.

pairing ; athletic!nishimura riki x academic achiever!reader genre ; fluff, established rs wc ; 802 warnings n notes ; dear readers, these two are mentally suffering because one doesn't care and the other cares too much! trigger warning, bio phys chem and math mentioned..

“-And during PE we played badminton, and Jake hyung was soooo bad today. He kept trying to smash but missed the shuttlecock.” Beside you, with his “I-swear-I’ll-finish-three-chapters-today” Physics textbook hardly opened to the first page, Riki doesn’t stop rambling about the various sports he’s played today. You’ve heard enough about the goals he scored during an impromptu morning game of football. The way his best friend fumbled during a badminton match. How his legs ache from standing in the sun for hours during baseball training. You’re about to tug him out the cafe by his jersey. 

“Are you going to start your notes or what?” You shove him with a lighthearted tone, barely concealing the exasperation behind your words. “All that talk about wanting to finally get an A but you still keep yapping. About sports, no less.” 

Riki rolls his eyes and mock-salutes in your direction. “Yes, ma’am.” 

Taking a sip of your matcha latte, you sigh resolutely and return to examine various electronic configurations. Perhaps now, Riki will leave you in peace… 

Only five minutes later, you’re snapped out of focus with a sheepish nudge. 

“What’s a moment…” “OH my days Nishimura Riki how can you not know what a moment is that’s like basic physics you’re supposed to have known that since we started chapter TWO.” 

Shrinking under your scoldings, he glances back at his textbook, reads the definition and looks back towards you. “I don’t get it.” 

With another heavy sigh, you scoot closer and attempt to explain as simply as you possibly can. However, he’s deliberately distracting you, with playful caresses through your hair and touches of kisses as smooth as silk on your cheek. You’ve got to be turning a beetroot red, but you ignore the warmth spreading through your cheeks and continue on. 

“Now repeat what I just said to you.” Refusing to give in to his silly antics, you cross your arms and lean back. Swiping the hair his fingers touched, not too long ago, out the way. 

He pouts, knowing him acting cute is your soft spot. “That’s not fair.” 

“Why?” You press, but relent and hunch back over your notes. “You know what, just focus on relearning your balanced forces. Do you remember what the principles of moments even is?” Oh wait, he doesn’t even know what a moment is. The way he blinks once at his textbook and blinks twice your way proves this. 

“At this point, I’m not dead, you’re more cooked than I am. And I am cooked.” 

Gasping scandalously, he whisper shouts, “You’re literally my academic goal, what are you on? I wish I had the motivation you did. Okay, more like I wish I had your grades, but we both know that’s not happening.” 

He gestures to all the bruises he’s obtained over the past week, scratches and wounds that demonstrate how dedicated he is to all the sports he partakes in. They’re his own personal souveniers. Although most fade quickly, some leave scars burning in his skin, but he’s proud of them all even when you express your concern for him. 

He’s always been like that. Dismissive of concerning matters because he enjoys showing people how strong he is. Internally and externally. The complete opposite of him, one Maths question you get wrong and you start questioning the very bane of your existence. 

You fall into silence, looking back at your notes. You have lost track of where Chemistry starts and ends, your paper copy of the periodic table crumpled and defaced from your bursts of frustration. You may not show it, but there’s so much going on in your head it’s hard to escape the fog you’ve mentally put yourself in. With the crazy STEM course you’ve chosen, you know that you’re definitely on the train tracks with a sign pointing towards a crash site. 

Either you shut yourself out and pass with flying colours, or you enjoy life and fail miserably. There’s no in between. Is it so hard to want to maintain a social life and a healthy relationship, while topping your class and achieving high honours? Perhaps it is. 

Noticing your sudden stillness, Riki panics. “You’re stressing out again. Why are you stressing out again? You’re doing well. Well, compared to me. Should I just do bio? Things with numbers are always complicated..” 

You laugh as he looks back at his noteless textbook. 

“Anyway, I think you’re doing just fine.” Riki murmurs, massaging your back with his hand. “Don’t overwork yourself and you’ll be fine. Just like you were, and always will be. Do you want me to test you?” 

“That’d be nice…” You smile, watching his eyes light up a little too eagerly when he closes his textbook. “But you’re just saying that so you don’t have to study anymore, right?”

how life be feeling rn, send prayers

[jenchan-writingmultis]

What do the dorm leaders + a few more students do when you leave them without saying goodbye / you go missing? (Series)

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

Genre: Fluff/ Angst Pairing: Riddle x Gn Reader

A/n: I wanted to get this idea out of my system, maybe I should have written this into a full fanfic, but what do you think? Let me know your thoughts in the comments (If you want to). This was supposed to be all the dorm leaders, but Riddle’s got too long so I’m going to separate them into series, most likely every character in Twisted Wonderland once I get ideas, some of them would link to each other's one-shots If I got enough smarty juice for it, but first let’s go for our boy Riddle, I hope you like it! Again, I'll make this into a series I hope you stay tuned!

Credits: The design was made by me in Canva and the art that was used is all from the Official Twisted Wonderland Cards. NOT BETA READ! Masterlist Part two: Leona x Gn reader -----------------

Sypnosis: You went off already, actually, they didn’t even know where you were right now, Grimm was worried about you, where have you gone? You just vanished into the mirror that you were talking to every midnight, he knew that he should have listened to his gut feeling when he realized that you were warning him about your sudden disappearance. The moment he went dashing out of Ramshackle, paws cold from the snow that he stepped on and it was really bad that when he needed Hornton he wasn’t there. 

Heartslabyul:

Riddle: He was the first to respond, he was a light sleeper due to his mother’s sudden outbursts in the middle of the night sometimes, so when he heard Grim’s cries from outside, he went to investigate immediately, especially since he saw that you weren’t with the little cat.

“Riddle!” Grim cried out, clinging to Riddle’s shirt “They’re gone!” He looked confused before grabbing Grim under his shoulders and lifting him a bit “What? Where did you last see them?” he questioned, Grim who looked miserable and seemed shaken as well “I don’t know they-!” he sobbed out “The moment I woke up, there was a gush of wind and the mirror shaking, and they were gone!”

 Riddle inhaled and sighed deeply, trying to remain composed “Would you like to rest here for now? I don’t want to wake the others up, we can look for them tomorrow” he went to open the door much wider now, while his thoughts were focused on you, he didn’t want to try to find you when it’s so dark out but at the same time, he wanted to throw away his rationality and go search the campus from up to down; you were always good to him, you saved him when he almost died, you’re basically a good friend to him; however, it was too dark outside, finding you would just be useless; but Grim seemed to think otherwise, he let out a loud whine which made Riddle wince at the noise. “Riddle! Please!” he begged, clinging again to the guy’s leg “I can’t leave Prefect alone!”

“Alright, alright,” Riddle said, sighing “Have you really checked everywhere?” He asked, and that’s where they started to plan out how to find you, he went to wake up the others, Trey, Cater, Ace, and Deuce to help with the search, of course, all four students agreed to help despite being late. 

Although they’ve been out for hours, there was nothing, no trace of your presence anywhere, where the hell did you go? Riddle’s eyebrows were basically knitted tight together for hours now, he can’t sense you, why? Where are you? 

The moment that the sun rose, not one idea or clue did the housewarden get from any deep search about you, and it left him frustrated. He decided since it was morning, Crowley might have any leads. 

And that’s where the matter was off of his hands… somehow, he still got updates, and he made his own investigations to try to find you, at least any leads; but nothing, even if he did get any leads it got him into a dead end. 

Days passed, weeks passed to the point it went into years passing, you still weren’t around, Grim was under his supervision, he basically got half custody with all the housewardens, especially when Grim seemed to not want to do anything else, other than get upset and lash out, he knew that feeling all too well when everything feels like it’s suffocating him. 

While he did pass everything in his academics, and now he’s graduating, he didn’t think that the impact of your presence before would make so much difference to him right now, he struggled and almost failed some of his subjects due to the lack of sleep and his mental health deteriorating. 

And throughout all of those, he realized that he actually loved you, isn’t that funny? He never thought that his affection for you would be anything more than just being acquaintances with you, the lingering stares he gave and the little adjustments he made of your uniform cause you weren’t wearing your tie properly, the way you never made him feel like an outsider, and everything else. The moments you and he were alone, he never made a move to get to know you better, he was the only one being asked questions about his family, his stories, and his future. He knew that saying he loved you was stupid, especially when he didn’t make any more effort in understanding you and knowing your story. 

The moment Riddle was wearing his Toga, something he was aiming for years, to become the valedictorian of his whole batch, he knew he should feel elated, his mother giving those business smiles he always see, Cater and Trey being there with him, graduating with him; Ace and Deuce watching their Housewarden graduate too. He was supposed to be happy; he was supposed to be-

But…

Where are you? Why aren’t you here with him? 

Riddle felt tears strolling down his cheeks when he was delivering his speech, an encouragement that he was supposed to give, yet here he was, tears strolling down his pristine face, in front of everyone, in front of his mother who looked shocked and pissed at him suddenly for showing such a shameful façade. 

“Riddle!” His mother shouted, almost wanting to stand up from her seat, but Trey stopped her, grabbing her shoulder and shaking his head. “There was one person that changed a lot of the student's perspective in magic… and how much they changed me as well.”

After that, Riddle stood in the bathroom, looking down the sink, face wet, he was crazy, telling everyone how Prefect, a missing student for years changed his life, and how he basically confessed how much he loved you, is he crazy? Maybe he went insane, now thinking about it, maybe all those searching for hours and sacrificing his sleep for you might be the reason. 

But even so, his heart yearned to see your face again, he missed you so much and he knew that he wasn’t the only one. 

He lifted his head, staring into the mirror, his eyes were puffy from crying, he looked pathetic, and he wanted to laugh about it.

Suddenly, the mirror started to wobble…? Was he hallucinating or does he see your face? 

“…iddle?” an echo of a voice all too familiar rang in his ears, his eyes widened as the wobbling of the mirror started to go harder, “Riddle… away… get away… the mirror” while he understood what “you,” said, he still didn’t budge, and that’s where the mirror spat you out, making him catch you.

His arms wrapped around your waist, he was shocked when he looked at you, you looked… the same? You looked a bit older, more gorgeous for sure. 

“Riddle!” you chirped, wrapping your arms around him, “You’ve changed so much!” he grew a bit, you were the same height now, but the other seemed to be surprised, his grip on your waist never leaving as he stared at you, “Riddle?” you asked, a bit worried.

 

“… Prefect?” he placed his hand on your cheek, rubbing it fondly with his thumb “Is that really you?” 

He wanted to kiss you, you stupid idiot, why did you vanish for years and come back looking prettier than you used to?

So, he did. He kissed you deeply, all the yearning and pain he felt for years, he put it in the kiss he gave you.

Welcome back, Prefect. 

Word count: 1,266

[fallstaticexit]

Prev / Next / Beginning

Trigger Warning: Drug Use (Marijuana) / Discussion of death & loss / Transcript under the cut

Nancy: Are you going to tell me where we’re going?

Vanessa: Ever heard of savoring the moment? Basking in the adventure of the unknown?

Nancy: This sounds like a slasher film in the making.

Vanessa: You’re no fun, but fine. We’re going to my secret spot.

Nancy: Why are you taking me? What if I told someone about it?

Vanessa: You said you’re not a narc. Besides, we broke bread together.

Nancy: Oh, I see. I have dirt on you, so now you have dirt on me?

Vanessa: Wooow, Blondie! You have some serious trust issues.

Nancy: [mutters] Well. I don’t know you all that well..

Vanessa: I’m not mad. That makes sense. That just means I have to work extra hard to get you to trust me. I must warn you, I’m annoyingly persistent.

Nancy: What?

Vanessa: Nothing!

Nancy: Ok, seriously. What are we doing here?

Vanessa: Looking for my stash...ah fuck! Did someone jack my- ah-ha! Here she is!

Nancy: Who?

Vanessa: [sings] Mary Jane, I love her just the same.

Nancy: You brought us all the way out here to smoke pot?

Vanessa: What, you’d rather do it in front of the nuns? Get in here.

Vanessa: So, what’s your deal?

Nancy: My deal?

Vanessa: Yeah, like, why are you here? I doubt you saw a packet in the mail and thought, ‘I’d sure love to spend my senior year at a boring Catholic boarding school’. Unless you heard about all the hot guys here, then that makes sense.

Nancy: Wasn’t my idea.

Vanessa: Ok. So, what happened?

Nancy: [huffs] Well, if I talk about it then it never goes away, does it? That’s kind of the whole point.

Vanessa: [hums] Well, you’re in the right place, that’s for sure.

Vanessa: [murmurs] All you have to do is pray, and it all goes away.

Nancy: What’s your story?

Vanessa: Not much of a story. I was raised in the church. Heir to my family’s fortune. Blah blah blah. You know how it is, being a Landgraab and all.

Nancy: It wasn’t always like that. My brother was supposed to be next in line, but he died when I was 4.

Vanessa: Fuck, I’m sorry.

Nancy: It’s- I barely remember him, so..

Vanessa: [after a beat] My mom died giving birth to me. My father says I’ll spend the rest of my life being great to atone for it. That’s actually all he says to me.

Nancy: I don’t think my father knows he even has a daughter. I bet he doesn’t know the color of my eyes- he hasn’t looked me in them my whole life.

Vanessa: [laughs] What the fuck? We're really messed up, huh? You know, you’re not like any of the other girls here.

Nancy: Is that a bad thing?

Vanessa: No. I’m not like any of them either.

Nancy: [coughs aggressively]

Vanessa: [laughs] Don’t swallow it! We should head back before they start room checks. You do not want to catch Sister Anges in the halls after curfew.

Vanessa: [cackling] Move your ass, Landgraab!

Nancy: Shhh! We’ll get caught!

Sister Agnes: And where are you two coming from?

Nancy: We? Um. We...

Vanessa: From the greenhouse, Sister Agnes. I was just showing the new girl around. Nancy says she loves her some pot-

Nancy: -tted plants! Potted plants!

Sister Agnes: You should know the rules better than anyone, Ms. Villareal. No loitering in common areas without a chaperone. Up to bed now.

Nancy: Pot? Really?

Vanessa: I thought it would be funny!

Vanessa: Today was pretty fun. You should come hang out with us during rec. Dina and Nina are total bitches but they’re funny.

Nancy: Sure. Yeah. Cool.

Vanessa: Cool. ‘Night Blondie.

Nancy: Goodnight...Red.

[seravphs]

ੈ♡˳·˖✶ — MIYA OSAMU x FEM READER

On a bad day, Onigiri Miya becomes your new comfort restaurant. Not only is the food good, but the man who takes your orders is always kind. You think the Miya you’ve been venting to on the phone is the same Miya who shows up at your door to deliver all of your orders.

It’s too bad you don’t know there’s two of them.

wc — 2k

tags — fluff, romcom, miscommunication, miserable corporate girl x small business owner who teaches her joy

The email doesn’t even do you the courtesy of being short. They make you read through two whole paragraphs before you get to the point of it all in the final sentence. 

Your termination is effectively immediately. 

You sit back in your chair to allow yourself a moment to take it in. It’s…not terrible, all things considered. 

You get to leave this job that you hate. They’ll pay you severance. You have enough savings to be comfortable for the next few months. 

It might even a blessing.

But it still doesn’t feel good. You worked hard to land this, and now you’ll have to start all over again. Change is always hard, especially when you haven’t asked for it. 

You look at the clock. It’s currently 8:30 in the morning. You’re giving yourself exactly twenty four hours to wallow, and then it’s back to business. 

First things first - a good meal. Food always make everything better, and you really deserve something special today. For a moment, you entertain the idea of calling your friends over to get breakfast somewhere fancy, but then you remember - 

They’re all at work. 

Where you would be, if you hadn’t just been let go. 

That does sting a little, so maybe you’re not as okay as you thought you were. Hurriedly pushing those thoughts to the side in favor of scrolling through your options, a plain blue banner catches your eye. 

Onigiri Miya, it reads. 

Japanese comfort food. Family owned. 

When you click on the link, it takes you to a page that’s as simple as it’s name. It’s just a menu and a series of pictures, but it’s what you need right now. Your head hurts. You don’t have the capacity to deal with anything more. 

You want something straightforward and easy to digest. Onigiri Miya it is, then. 

“‘Miya speakin’. What can I get ya?” 

It’s a pleasantly accented voice. When you rattle off your order, you suddenly find it a little less pleasant after he says, “Er. Ya sure?”

This is some shoddy customer service. 

“I’m placing the order, aren’t I?”

“Those two don’t normally go together,” he says. “I’d suggest number nine and number thirteen instead. Trust me.” 

You don’t trust him, actually. This is probably just an upselling tactic he tries on every customer, but you’re not in the mood to argue. You had thought when you called a family owned restaurant, you’d be speaking to some kindly old grandma who might let you cry and vent into the receiver for just a little while, not whoever this is. 

At least the delivery is quick. 

A series of sharp raps on your door alerts you to the arrival. You pull it open to a man in a baseball cap and a uniform with onigiris on both. Their merch is cute. You’d wear it unironically. 

Underneath the cap, yellow blonde hair peeks out. On his shirt, a name tag reads Miya. 

Instantly, you feel a little worse for thinking poorly of him. Your bad attitude from work is no reason to take it out on this hardworking entrepreneur who’s running a one man show by himself. 

“Here ya go,” he says, thrusting a paper bag at you. “Eat it while it’s hot!” 

And then he’s off, scampering back down the stairs instead of taking the elevator even though you’re several floors up. You suppose there’s a reason he has those thighs. 

That the food is good is an understatement. 

Your former coworker Aiko used to work in food advertising before she pivoted. She loved to talk about how fake the industry was during lunch, both in terms of people and actual product. It’s through her that you know that half of the food in commercials aren’t actually food, but styrofoam and plastic painted to look appetizing. 

Onigiri Miya, in contrast, doesn’t look perfect. Appetizing, certainly, but not like a work of art. It just looks like what it is - a ball of rice with special ingredients for flavor.

So why are you crying as you finish your first onigiri and reach for the next? 

It’s been so long since you had a home cooked meal. You’re trying not to be maudlin, but you can almost taste the love that went into everything you’re eating. Imagining Miya carefully packing each triangular ball of rice by hand with a smile has you reaching for another, then another, until eventually the entire order is gone before you know it. 

Exhausted from crying and eating, you sink into your couch with a satisfied sigh and fall asleep. 

It’s 1:30 P.M. by the time you rise again, feeling a little better. Sleep really was the cure to all evils. Now you have 20 hours left to indulge yourself as much as possible. 

You’re not in the mood to turn off your brain by binge watching a show. You want to do something. You want to use your hands to craft something from scratch. 

Learning how to make onigiri could be a start. A quick run to the grocery store and the first recipe that popped up on Google later, you have a half formed, crumbling mound of rice with pickled radish shoved inside. If you squint, it looks almost like what you got from Onigiri Miya this morning. 

Who are you kidding?

That’s an insult to Miya’s craft. He put so much care into each dish - you can hardly compare your shoddy workmanship to his. There’s only one thing to do. You have to taste the real thing again to see where you went wrong. 

“Miya. What d'ya want to order?” 

“I’d like-“

“Hold up. Didn’t ya call this morning?” 

Flustered, you nearly fumble your phone. You’re breathless as you clutch is tighter and bring it back to your ear. “Yeah,” you admit sheepishly. “Is that bad?” 

“I mean, yeah, a little,” Miya says. “I appreciate the business but ya shouldn’t be eatin’ onigiri for two meals a day. Yer going to make yerself sick.” 

“It’s a special day,” you tell him. “I got laid off.” 

In the resounding silence that follows, you have ample time to berate yourself for sharing that. What is wrong with you? Why would you say that? He’s a stranger that you’ve randomly dumped your misery onto and you’re sure he’s -

“Ouch,” he says. “‘Kay, I’ll make an exception just for today. What’s yer order?” 

Miya shows up at your door promptly. He’s ditched the cap so his yellow hair is on full display. It looks like he’s run his hands through it. It sticks up at odd angles. 

“Here ya go,” he says, almost distractedly as he hands you your bag. “Enjoy.” 

You bring the bag inside and start rummaging through it immediately, excited to try new flavors you hadn’t gotten the first time around. Out comes the four onigiri you had ordered, a cup of miso soup, and…

A little takeout container of sushi with a cat’s face drawn on it. A speech bubble next to its head reads, “You can do it, meow!” 

Laughter echoes around your apartment. To your surprise, the world feels less daunting already. You hadn’t realized how quiet you had been the entire morning. Miya’s the only person you’ve spoken to the entire day, and even that was a quick and whispered thank you. Your throat almost hurts with the force of your giggles after disuse all morning, but it’s a good kind of pain. 

Onigiri Miya, family owned. You can almost feel the warmth of an embrace around you as you bite into your steaming onigiri, still a little too hot. 

All too soon, it becomes a tradition for you to order Onigiri Miya as your comfort meal. It doesn’t even have to be a bad day - you actively try to avoid associating things you like with painful feelings by using them as treats for hard days. Instead, Onigiri Miya is anything from a reward for getting to the second round of interviews or a celebration for successfully starting a new hobby. 

Onigiri has become your favorite food, and the person on the other line who takes your orders and even spares a few minutes to chat with you when it’s not too busy has quickly become someone irreplaceable in your life. 

You think you might need to redownload Tinder if you’re this attached to the man who fulfills your onigiri orders. 

Even though you know it’s strange, you can’t bring yourself to sever your connection. Miya is warm and kind, and you’ve quickly come to think of him as a friend. It’s a culmination of lots of little moments piling up over time. 

When you had forced yourself to go on your first date after a while, determined to get back out there, it had crashed and burned catastrophically. Onigiri Miya had been there to pick you back up. Miya had even recognized the sniffles in your voice that you were fighting and drawn you another little cat. 

The next time you had ordered, before you could even tell him what onigiri you wanted, Miya had asked you what happened last week. Maybe that’s just how family owned businesses are. They actually care about their customers. Enough so to play therapist to the girl that orders from you every week. 

Then there was the time you had gotten your first call back for a job application, and you had called Miya to celebrate. 

Well, not Miya. You didn’t have his personal number, but you had called Onigiri Miya, which is more or less the same thing at the moment. This time, he had been the one to be interrupted as you blurred out your good news. 

You can almost hear the smile in his voice when he says, “What’d I tell ya? I knew ya could do it.” 

There’s no container of sushi with a hand drawn cat this time, but there is a little note written on a napkin. It’s accompanied by an origami star. 

You don’t cry, exactly, but your eyes water up as you read the note. He’s proud of you. The star is to wish you luck on your continued journey. The knowledge that he’s proud - his own words - fuels you as you keep applying and interviewing, never letting rejection stop you. 

He’s just the guy that takes your onigiri order, but at some point, he’s become someone special to you. 

He cares. He spends an extra two minutes on the phone with you to ask about your day even when you can hear the sounds of a busy environment in the background. He remembers your accomplishments and failures. Whether you fall or rise, he’s there with you every step of the way. 

Sometimes, you get a fluttery feeling in your stomach when he laughs at you, calling you silly for whatever mistake you’re relying to him. You miss his voice when you don’t have an occasion to call, and when something happens, your first thought is always to tell him about it. 

Maybe he feels the same way, because the next time he comes to deliver your order, he tells you, “We’ve known each other long enough, ya order every week. I don’t like being called Miya. My name’s Atsumu.” 

Or maybe not, because he never treats you in person the way he does on the phone. There’s no spark of connection, no bright laughter, no willingness to linger, to stay, to listen. 

Perhaps he’s just shy. In that case, you’re willing to take what he’s offered you and make the first move.

The next time you order, you end the call with, “Thanks, Atsumu. I’ll talk to-“ 

There’s an abrupt interruption from the other end immediately. 

“What’d ya call me?” His voice sounds funny. 

“…Atsumu?”

Even when you’re confused, the sound of his belly deep laughter makes you feel all shivery from your toes to your head. It makes your joints feel weak, like they can’t support you, and you ease into the dining chair as you wait patiently for whatever laughing fit that’s gripped him to pass. 

“Atsumu,” he repeats, with another snort of laughter. “Atsumu, really?”

“What?”

“Ya know Onigiri Miya’s a five minute walk from yer place, right?” 

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Come here,” he says, and hangs up. 

When you enter Onigiri Miya, you get instant whiplash. There’s two of them! 

You’re just wondering if you should get your eyes checked when you start seeing the subtle differences. They have different hair colors, and their eyes are just the subtlest shades apart. 

The most discerning difference is the way the one with grey hair is looking at you. 

“There’s the girl of the hour,” Atsumu says. “I’ll leave ya to it.” 

When Atsumu leaves, Miya gestures for you to sit at the bar in front of him. He’s still packing onigiri. 

“I’m a little hurt, ya know. Can’t believe ya mistook me for my twin.” 

“It was an accident!” You protest. “How was I supposed to know?” 

“I’m teasin’ ya,” he says, laughing. “Yer so easy to rile up. Remember this, okay? I’m Osamu. The nicer brother.” 

“I heard that,” Atsumu yells from the back. 

“Atsumu’s just the delivery guy,” he says. There’s a twinkle in his eye. You don’t think it’s that funny, but you like seeing him mirthful. “I’d rather make the food than deal with the people, so he does it.”

“Am I part of the people?” 

He gives you a look. 

“Stop fishing for compliments,” he says, and your cheeks grow warm with delight. “Ya know ya aren’t.” 

“Here,” he says, sliding you a napkin with a series of numbers and a hand drawn picture of a cat. “I’ve been meaning to do this for a while.” 

By the cat’s head, the speech bubble reads, “Miya Osamu’s personal number.” The cat is winking at you. 

“Is this…?” 

He smiles at you. “Stop clogging up the line cause ya miss me-“

“I don’t-“

He ignores you. “I got a business to run, ya know? Just call me next time.”

Then, he leans over the bar. He’s too close. Your cheeks feel warm under his attention as he whispers to you, “I’ll make something just for ya, compliments of the chef.” 

Trying to recover, you swallow to bring moisture to your dry mouth. You’re trying to be playful when you say, “It’s a date, then?”

He looks at you with a hint of a smile. “It is.” 

[dailydegurechaff]

Tanya²

Today's Daily Degurechaff is… I’ll do you one better: Tanya³

(+ a small fic I never finished.)

Erich… isn’t sure what he’s seeing. He knows he’s wearing his glasses and he definitely has not been drinking… So what in the world is going on here? Why is he suddenly seeing things in triplicate?

Three of them. There are three little Degurechaff Devils in an office where there should only be one. 

When he’d knocked on her door, she’d called out that she needed a second. He hadn’t listened to her and opened it anyway. He’s regretting that now. Staring at them, both his head and his stomach are starting to hurt. 

All three of them are staring back at him. One is looking at him in abject horror, the next one’s eyes flash in recognition and she actually smiles (even more shocking, she does it in a way that isn’t uniquely terrifying, but perhaps actually cute), and the final squints at him a bit, as though she doesn’t know him. 

One of the three, the one who looks absolutely horrified, opts to greet him after a moment, “Ahaha—… Colonel Lergen… did you need something?” She sounds like she might be freaking out a bit. Erich feels similarly to her.

The second Degurechaff, the one who had smiled at him, turns her head to look at the first. She looks confused now. “Did you just say ‘Lergen?’ Not Rerugen?”

The first responds again. While she sounded nervous a second ago, it’s forgotten as she turns to her counterpart, “Seriously? You’ve been speaking this language for over a decade and your accent is that bad? Yes, I definitely said Lergen. Why would you pronounce it Rerugen?”

Now it’s the third one’s turn to speak, “No, I agree, it’s definitely pronounced Rerugen, but… this isn’t him. Rerugen has dark hair and brown eyes… and if I’m going to be honest, a fairly unfortunate haircut too. This guy looks too normal to be Rerugen.”

Degurechaff One immediately disagrees, “What are you even talking about? Lergen’s always had blonde hair and blue eyes.”

The second one backs her up, “Yeah, I agree this is definitely the right sort of coloration, but… now that I’m looking at him, Rerugen is supposed to be more handsome than this.”

“Handsome?! Has Being X poisoned your brain that badly?” Number Three yells at Number Two.

Two snaps back at her immediately, “That’s not what I meant at all, and you should know that! I meant by conventional standards! You know, stronger jawline, sharper features!”

Did— did she just say he was ugly?

Before the other two start arguing, the first one cuts them off, “Hold on. Are we sure we’re all talking about the same person here? Maybe you both are thinking of someone else, this is Colonel Erich von Lergen, my superior, formerly a part of Personnel, but now he works in Operations in the General Staff. He’s been looking out for me for a while now. For example, he made an effort to keep me off the frontlines, and when I was stationed in the southeast, he gave me a preliminary warning that Dacia would invade. Things like that. He’s a very good superior. Does any of that seem familiar?”

“Ah… that does seem to match up with who I was thinking of. I wonder why he’s so different from what I know…”

Now that Erich’s kind of over the shock now, he’s a bit tired of being talked about like he isn’t here. Interrupting the conversation between them, he finally speaks, “Degurechaff… what is going on here?”

All three seem to remember that Erich is actually here and a part of the conversation suddenly. They turn back to look at him, but none of them seem to really know what to say, faces varying shades of hesitation, confusion, or irritation.

The way they act and carry themselves is… actually slightly different. Looking closer at them, maybe it’s only that there’s one Degurechaff and two extremely close doppelgängers? If he studies them, yes they’re close enough to be siblings, but there’s differences between each.

The first one is the one he recognizes, the one who looks as he expects her to and also is getting his name and appearance correct. She’s just the slightest bit taller than the other two, but it’s a marginal thing. She’s paler than the other two in all aspects, a corpse-like pallor to her skin, hair colored platinum blonde, and eyes the color of ice. When he meets her gaze, it’s easy to tell her apart. It’d be impossible to mistake those disconcerting eyes that look a bit dead, or perhaps look like she’d want everyone around her dead if it’d bring her a bit of peace. So this one he mentally categorizes as ‘Original Degurechaff,’ or perhaps more accurately ‘The Degurechaff That I Know.’

The second one that he heard speak— the one who had called him ugly?— is the smallest of the three. Of course, Degurechaff has always been small, but this one beats the other two. Actually, she even looks younger than the others, if that was even possible, and honestly she kind of acts like it as well. She has shorter, curlier hair than the others, and it’s much brighter in color— much closer to gold than platinum blonde. Compared to the one he knows, she seems more… emotive, perhaps the best word for it is. So this one has to be ‘Little Degurechaff’ or something to that effect.

The third one is about a midpoint between the two in hair color and stature, though her hair is a right mess. A prominent flyaway sticks out of the top of her head, refusing to lay flat. Framed by pale lashes, her eyes are a more vibrant blue than either of the others, but they’re just as cold-looking and tense. He wouldn’t call any Degurechaff patient, but this one gives him the impression she’s much more irritable than the others. Her uniform is also starkly different from the other two, who are almost matching, but all three carry a recognizable Silver Wings Badge. This one… perhaps he should denote her as the ‘Irritable Degurechaff’? She’s always been irritable, though, hasn’t she?

The designations are a start, but still he has to wonder... Why? Why is this happening?

Ah, hold on. Is that it? Is this a punishment from God, specifically designed to torment me?

[luxaofhesperides]

Ghostlight prompt: Danny and Duke being childhood friends, but Danny tells Duke the moment the accident happens and such cause he trusts him, only for Danny to go radio silent when giw decide to block the town communications in senior year.

So Duke-does he tell Danny he's Signal or not? Up to you-gets worried the longer no contact goes by.

Maybe the away game thing seen in other posts where the sports team still does away games and Danny gets enough good will with star or dash maybe and they send a message to Duke that's some coded phrase and Duke knows shits going down?

(yourlocalcorviddad, it's a side blog so didn't want to send from main sorry)

Danny is not someone who is on his mind a lot, these days. It’s to be expected, considering how distance and their double lives eat up all the time they have to talk. Really, it’s a miracle that they were able to speak enough to learn about their own individual vigilante work, especially with Duke bouncing around foster homes for a good portion of that time. 

They haven’t spoke in months but that’s normal for them.

Duke thinks he can be forgiven for not knowing something was wrong. He still won’t forgive himself for it.

“Danny’s gone?” he repeats, feeling numb. There’s static ringing in his ears, his entire world hollowing out.

The guy in front of him looks grim, unable to meet Duke���s eyes. Did he introduce himself? Duke can’t remember, can’t keep his spiraling thoughts straight in his head. “He’s gone. His entire family is gone and we haven’t been able to call for help because… well…”

“It’s those guys, right? The ones in white?”

“You know about them?”

“Danny told me. Danny told me a lot about what he did in Amity Park.”

The guy lets out a slow, relieved breath. “Good, then I don’t have to explain. Sorry, it’s just that it’s not something we talk about, especially out in the open. After the last few months, things got really bad. We know the GIW took the Fentons, but we can’t find out how or why and they’ve got us on a tight lockdown.”

“Then how did you get out?” Duke asks. Another arguably more important question pops into his mind a second later. “Actually, how do you know about Danny and… you know. The other things.”

The grimness on the guy’s expression fades away some beneath the sudden shame and embarrassment. “Oh, that. Well, I dunno how much he told you about his, like, daily life, but, um. I’m Dash. Baxter. I bullied him?”

Dash. 

Dash. That’s a name he recognizes. 

Danny’s complained about Dash a lot in the past. Since they were in middle school, really. Duke would always get mad on Danny’s behalf about how terribly he’s being treated, how no one would stop such obvious bullying. And every time, Danny would laugh it off and say in that soft voice of his, It’s alright, Duke, really. Having you care is more than enough for me.

It never stopped the bullying, though, but the way Danny talked about Dash changed when they both entered high school. He was still annoyed about everything Dash did, but there were less insults about him, less venting about every little thing that pissed Danny off about him, as if he just didn’t care anymore.

And there is, of course, the most memorable time Danny called Duke about Dash over the summer.

Hey, Danny, Duke had began, only to be cut off by Danny yelling, I kissed Dash?! Or he kissed me?! What am I supposed to do now!

And Duke, despite the jealousy he felt at hearing that Danny and Dash kissed, laughed so hard he cried while Danny yelled at him to be helpful. 

There wasn’t any discussion on Dash since, beyond a comment here and there about a funny fanboying thing Dash had said about Phantom. The focus of their conversations shifted towards how hard it was to be heroes or vigilantes, quiet reassurances that they’re both doing the best they can, tips traded about best ways to patch themselves up and get through the night. Sometimes, it felt like Danny was the only person in the world to really know Duke; all his pain and promises, his dreams, everything he was Before and who he became in the After.

He’s missed Danny, but the last message Danny sent him told him that things were getting rough in Amity Park, and to not call or contact him until he reached out first.

So Duke trusted in Danny and focused his attention in Gotham, putting his all into becoming a better hero, someone people can rely on. 

He thinks that maybe he should have fallen into the Bats’ bad habits of invading privacy to make sure Danny’s okay. 

Too late for that now, though.

“I know you,” Duke says after a long moment. “He talked about you sometimes. Come with me, we have a lot to discuss.”

Dash looks appropriately nervous, but he doesn’t argue. 

It’s a tense, quiet walk to the library where Barbara works. She’s stationed at the front desk when he arrives and greets him with a smile, eyes flicking towards Dash in question.

“Hey, Babs, got a private study room open?”

Her gaze sharpens and Duke can’t help the feeling of relief that flows through him, knowing that Oracle is ready to look out for him. “Let me check,” she says, turning towards the computer to click around a few pages. “Study room 8 is open.”

That’s the study room with a working lock and soundproofing. It also has cameras and a mic inside, but all the other study rooms have one too, just for safety purposes. Things could always go terribly wrong when people are locked together in a small room, and having video and audio evidence of what happened has assisted in more than a few cases. 

He leads them up to the second floor, past the students studying and the group of young children in the back corner of the library listening intently to a read aloud. 

The only occupied study rooms are those up front, closer to the stairs. The back rooms are empty and quiet, the perfect place for a little impromptu interrogation.

“So,” Duke says as he closes the door to study room 8 behind them. Dash sits down as if this is just a casual conversation, but the way his foot taps against the floor betrays his nerves. “Danny’s gone. And somehow, that lead you to me.”

Dash glance around, then leans closer to drop his voice into a harsh whisper. “The Guys In White got some insane upgrades a few months ago and forced every citizen of Amity Park into a surveillance state. The entire Fenton family is gone, but we all know it’s really because they want Danny.”

“Explain the situation in Amity Park some more.”

“Well. It’s like this: we didn’t take them seriously, so they upped their moves and got us trapped. No one goes in or out of Amity Park without good, verifiable reason. We have a curfew and we can be randomly stopped and searched for ectoplasm or exposure to ghosts. Most of the ghosts have left, but a few of the stronger ones hang around to cause trouble to get the GIW off our backs for a bit.”

“So how did you end up in Gotham?”

“I was invited to tour the college. And since outsiders were expecting me, the GIW let me go. But there’s definitely some that tailed me to Gotham, but I can’t find them at all. Even talking to you now is a huge risk for me.”

Which means they don’t have much time to talk before someone comes looking for Dash. His words, paired with everything Duke’s heard from Danny, paint a deeply unpleasant picture in his mind. “Are you going to be in trouble?”

“Nah, I’ll be fine. It’s Danny we’re all worried about. He told me before he got caught that if anything happened to him, I should find you. Tucker helped us narrow down where exactly you are and sent you that text to get you to where we met.”

“What do you think I can do?”

“I don’t know,” Dash admits. “But Danny trusts you, and he needs your help.”

Duke was never going to say no to this request to begin with, but damn if those words don’t make him want to run to Amity Park without waiting for anyone else.

“Okay,” he says. “Okay. I’ll help rescue him and bring down the GIW. You should go now, before they get too suspicious.”

“What are you planning?”

“I got a couple of friends who are good at destroying government property. Trust me, you’ll see what we’re up, we’re pretty noticeable if we’re pissed off enough.”

“Don’t take too long then,” Dash says, standing up, “I expect a good show from you. See you around, man.”

And with that, Dash pats Duke’s shoulder and leaves the study room. Duke doesn’t follow after him.  He’s got a rescue to start planning, and the less time he wastes, the better.

In the end, it’s pretty simple. It’s not a hard mission at all when the time comes for them to act, but the amount of data they gather and have to shift through is daunting. But that’s more Tim and Barbara’s forte, so he trusts them to handle it. 

Together with Red Robin, Spoiler, and Black Bat, they hit Amity Park hard and fast. 

One night was spent learning the lay of the land and every station and lab set up by the GIW. The second night was spent burning it all down and tossing open cages full of green blob ghosts and a few transparent, weakly glowing human ghosts. Stronger ghosts, glowing brightly, joined them in a few places with battle cries and maniacal laughter.

They split up and took down all the bases and patrol stations on their own, sweeping through the city like vengeful shadows. 

By dawn, the GIW were in shambles, without any bases or equipment, and rounded up for arrest. 

Cass was the one to find Danny and his family; his parents were forced to create weapons for the GIW under threat of Danny and Jazz’s torture. Danny was locked up like an animal and studied. Jazz had restraints on, including a muzzle, and a bloodthirsty rage in her eyes. Apparently, she had put up the most fight and, while being studied for repeated exposure to ectoplasm and radiation, started biting people.

The Fentons are big names in this conflict. Tim makes the executive decision to burn one of his out-of-state safehouses so they can hide and recover in peace, then promptly moves them into it as soon as the EMTs give them the all clear. They’re gone by the time the sun is rising over the horizon, and the curious Amity Parkers that have gathered behind the blockade of police cars have to be reassured that the Fentons have been taken away for their protection, not for further abuses. Even then, tensions are high and the locals are clearly prepared to start rioting now that they have a chance to fight back.

As vigilantes, they’re not meant to interact with cops much. Perhaps it’s simply their experiences in Gotham that keep them at a distance, disappearing into the neighborhood the moment attention shifts off of them. Either way, Duke is hurrying out of Amity Park with the rest of the team on his heels, eager to return to Gotham and follow up on their own leads to make sure the GIW is properly gutted and dismantled. 

Duke heads off for the Hatch as soon as they reach Gotham, hoping to shed the suit and finally be able to call Danny. The guilt of not noticing how bad things had gotten rolls through his stomach, and more than that, he’s missed hearing Danny’s voice. 

The first few calls go straight to voicemail. Duke leaves a quick message asking Danny to let him know how he’s doing as soon as he can talk. 

Then he goes for a shower and to change into civilian clothes, prepared to make his way to Wayne Manor to let Bruce know how everything went. And hopefully distract him from his Disappointed Father/Leader Lecture about taking on missions behind his back, as if Duke can’t handle himself. And also because Bruce has no leg to stand on when it comes to this. He’s fully prepared to throw that entire lecture back into his face at a moment’s notice.

The post-mission exhaustion is hitting him hard and fast. Duke has to brace himself against the wall once he’s out of the shower, resisting the urge to just lie on the floor and sleep there until he starts feeling more human. 

Somehow, he gets himself into some sweatpants and a plain shirt, pulls on a pair of mismatched socks, and begins gathering his things so he can get to the Batcave. 

He’s in no state to be driving. Maybe someone would be willing to take him there?

Just as he reaches for his phone to thumb through his contacts and see who he can bother, it buzzes in his hand. Duke blames the way he jumps on his exhaustion, then blinks his tired eyes to squint at the name that pops up onto the screen.

Danny.

All at once, his exhaustion fades away. A rush of adrenaline runs through him as he scrambles to accept the call, already pacing around the room so he doesn’t fall asleep. 

“Hello?”

There’s a moment of silence, then the exhale of a breath that turns to static over the call. “Duke,” Danny’s tired voice says. “Duke…”

“You doing okay? I couldn’t get to you before you and your family had to leave and go into hiding, but I’ve been worried about you, man.”

“I’m good. We’re all fine, now. Fentons are strong, you know? We’ll bounce back in no time.”

From what he’s heard about Danny’s family, that’s most definitely true. He’s seen the pictures of walls Jack Fenton has burst through with his body. It’ still hard to believe that no one in the family is a meta, outside of Danny.

“You need anything? I can get it to you, just say the word. Anything at all.”

Danny hums, then asks with a playful note in his voice, “Anything?”

“Anything.”

“I need you. How fast can you come meet me? I’ll even pay for express delivery.”

Duke laughs, so relieved at hearing the lightness return to Danny’s voice that he feels weak in the knees. “It’ll be at least two days. I gotta sleep and debrief with Batman before I can see you. It’s gonna take some time to get out of Gotham again.”

“Maybe I can go to you, instead,” Danny suggests. “Fly over and be there is less than an hour.”

“Are you in any shape to be flying right now?”

“I’m fine! Already healing and everything,” Danny insists.

“It might be dangerous if any rogue GIW agents go after you.”

“Well,” Danny says, “That’s why I need to get to my knight in shining armor sooner rather than later, right?”

Duke bites his lip to fight back a smile, blinking his eyes forcefully to keep them from closing under the heavy weight of exhaustion. “Does that make you a damsel in distress?”

“I mean, I did need rescuing, so I guess? I’m not much of a damsel, but I could put on a pretty dress for you. It’ll be like playing pretend when we were kids.”

“Oh, man, I kinda miss those poofy dresses. I think I could still rock on, put it on top of the armor when I go out for patrol.”

Danny snickers. “Signal: the most well dressed vigilante in Gotham.”

“That’s me, baby!”

The last of the agonizing fear that’s choked him since he first talked to Dash finally melts away. Danny’s fine now. Everything’s okay; the GIW are done for and there’s plenty of people willing to look out for the Fentons. This will never happen again.

“Hey,” Danny says, voice suddenly turing more serious. “Send me your location. I wasn’t joking when I said I could fly over to you. And before you say anything! I do need it; Jazz and my parents are smothering me and I just need to get away from everything and pretend all of this never happened.”

The admission softens Duke, makes him shove away everything that tells him this is a bad idea, that Danny needs more rest first, that having Danny fly over alone and without warning any of the Bats fills Duke with anxiety. 

He does miss Danny. More than he can put into words.

“Yeah, okay,” he says at last. “Come meet me, Danny.”

He texts Danny the location of the Hatch before common sense tells him to be more careful with his base of operations. Not that it matters, anyways; if there’s anyone in the world he trusts with everything, it’s Danny. 

Then he sends the Bats a quick text saying he’s crashing in the Hatch and to not bother him until the sun is fully up two days from now. Oracle gives him a thumbs up emoji, which is a good guarantee that she will personally see to it that no non-emergency messages interrupt his rest and recovery time.

Duke has no idea how long it will take Danny to get to the Hatch, so he putters around, cleaning up the space and straightening it out in an attempt to keep busy enough that he doesn’t crash. Travel really takes it out of him. It’s one of the cons of being born and raised in Gotham: he doesn’t have the stamina to travel outside of it, especially when they were there and back in less than three days.

Thank god for Tim’s many motorcycles and his tendency to see the speed limit as a weak suggestion that can be ignored while on a mission.

Ultimately, the call of sleep is too strong to resist. 

One moment, Duke is sorting through files on the Hatch’s computer, and the next moment, he’s face down on a bed with his face shoved into a pillow. 

Blearly, he manages to pull his phone out of his pocket and send Danny a typo-ridden text that hopefully gets across the message of might be asleep so just come in, don’t wait for me to answer the door.

He’s out like a light as soon as it sends. The last thing Duke registers is his phone dropping out of his hand and falling against the mattress with a little bounce.

When he begins to wake up, something’s changed. As much as he wants to go back to sleep, awareness comes back to him slowly and Duke forces himself to claw his way out of unconsciousness to figure out what, exactly, is bothering him so much. Until he figures out what’s changed in the room, he won’t be able to sleep because he’ll be worried about someone breaking in.

His mind comes back online long before his body does. It’s only when he tries to move that Duke realizes he’s no longer alone on the bed; there’s someone wrapped up in his arms, body temperature a little too cool to be a normal human.

Blinking open his eyes, Duke looks down at the head of messy black hair and feels Danny’s soft breath ghost across his chest. 

“Danny?” he manages to say, voice rough with sleep. 

Danny hums and doesn’t move.

“Hey, look up. Let me see if you’re really alright.”

“Mmm, no,” Danny mumbles, burrowing his face into Duke’s chest some more. “‘m sleepy.”

A good argument. Duke is also sleepy. 

“Fine,” he says, “Check in the morning, then. G’night, Danny.”

“Night, Duke. Thanks for saving me.”

He tightens his grip on Danny, contentment burning warm in his chest. “Always, Danny. I’ll always save you.”

That’s why he’s a hero, after all. To save others, to reach a hand out to everyone the way he needed when he was younger. To keep the people he loves safe. To make sure Danny always finds a way back to him. 

This is what makes all the pain of this lifestyle worth it.

Danny makes everything worth it.

(@yourlocalcorviddad tagging to make sure you see this!)

[sunnysidesevenup]

SSR - Arlo Wake - Applepom Groovy

Vignette - Not Here For You Guys (Part 2)

[Part 1]

read fic under the cut!

Arlo sighs, trudging through the snow and adjusting the gloves on his hands. He was surprised Epel would give him an outfit—considering they weren’t really part of the same “group” at the moment, but he suspects it’s probably a bribe of some kind to not tell Vil if the boy slips into his accent.

It seems Epel has the wrong idea about him, though—Arlo would never care enough to go any extra bit out of his way to get him in trouble. He’d only tell on Epel if he was already planning on talking to their housewarden, something which he wasn’t planning on any time soon. He didn’t ask permission for this trip, after all, and getting scolded by the older boy was far too much of an annoyance for him at the moment.

…The outfit was nice, though. He didn’t necessarily need it, his tolerance to the cold similar to any merfolk from the Coral Sea, but he liked clothes similar to this. He’d always had a preference for soft, knitted things—it was one of the first items of clothing that he’d been able to tolerate when he came to the surface. Maybe he could be a bit nicer to Epel on this trip, if nothing else. Although he probably wouldn’t see him much.

His phone buzzes in his pocket, and he slides it out, removing a glove so he can touch the screen. A text comes through, from the exact reason he’s even on this silly trip, and he can’t help the smile that crosses his face.

He never thought he’d ever go to another town just to hang out with someone—but things had really changed for him.

It wasn’t bad.

In fact, it was quite nice.

Neige <3: Make sure to wear warm clothes!

Arlo: I am. Epel gave me some.

Neige <3: Oh, that’s so nice of him! I was worried about you in this cold.

Arlo: You do remember I live in the ocean, right?

Neige <3: I can still worry!

Arlo: Are YOU wearing warm clothes?

Neige <3: hehe, you’re so sweet! <3 I am, some locals were nice enough to give me some!

Arlo feels his cheeks flush, luckily not as easily noticeable in this cold. He turns his phone off and slides it into his pocket, no longer able to look at the messages. It’s too embarrassing.

Getting called things like “sweet” by Neige isn’t new to him, but it will always feel strange. Things like that are not how he’s used to being described, nor would anyone else ever dare to think it. But no matter how much he acts like his regular self around the RSA student—scolding people who bother him, making little comments, smiling wide and threatening with a row full of razor sharp teeth—Neige still calls him “sweet”.

How else is he supposed to react, other than to happily go along with whatever Neige wants? It’s only natural.

Of course he’d go where he’s invited. He doesn’t know why Epel was so surprised in the first place.

Finally, he reaches the town square, where they’re supposed to meet. Booths selling various products line the street, and the fire pit in the center makes for a welcoming sight. Even more welcoming, however, is the sight of a certain black haired RSA student.

He’s standing near one of the booths, clad in similar clothing to Arlo. He’s talking happily to the seller, always able to strike up a conversation with strangers. The seller hands him two cups just as Arlo approaches, and the mer tilts his head.

“You wanted two drinks?” He asks teasingly, and Neige spins around, his eyes lighting up.

“You’re here!” He says excitedly, and then holds out one of the cups. “It’s for you!”

Arlo’s eyes widen, surprised, and he hesitantly reaches out to take it. “…What is it?”

“Apple cider!” Neige laughs, “Most of the things here are apple.”

“Right.” The mer says, taking a sip. It’s good, like most of the apple products in Epel’s hometown, and the warmth from it helps dispel any last lingering chill he feels. “How much was it?”

The RSA student makes a displeased sound, shaking his head. “I invited you, so I’m paying for it.” Arlo opens his mouth to protest, but is cut off again. “C’mon, let me treat you! Please?”

…How is he supposed to say no when Neige stares at him with wide, pleading eyes like that? No way.

He clicks his tongue. “Okay. But I’ll buy you something on this trip, too.”

The other boy’s eyes soften, and the look is so fond that Arlo has to look away. “Okay.” He agrees easily, and then adds, “You look really cute in that outfit, by the way!”

Arlo feels his heart rate speed up, the unmistakable heat of his cheeks turning red appearing again. “It’s not too different from my sweaters.” He says, half a protest, but Neige is having none of it.

“You look cute in those, too!”

“Stop it.” Arlo mutters, embarrassed. Neige can’t call him cute when HE’S the one who so clearly fits that description. It’s not fair that he can say compliments so easily, when the mer feels like he’s going to bite his own tongue attempting it. It’s not even close to fair.

“Are you embarrassed?” Neige giggles, and it might be a tease but it also might be a genuine question, but either way it only makes things worse.

“You can’t just say things like that.” Arlo responds, finally finding the courage to meet his eyes again. He finds the boy happily grinning at him, but forces himself not to look away again. “That’s something you say to someone you’re dating.” He tries reasoning with him.

Neige tilts his head. “Is this not a date?” He asks, immediately short circuiting Arlo’s brain.

Right, right, land people have a different definition of date, don’t they? Yeah, that’s what’s going on here.

Arlo bites his lip, looking away, “Let’s go look at the other booths?” He changes the subject, unwilling to acknowledge or talk about any sort of “date” anymore.

He doesn’t see it, eyes trained on the ground, but Neige’s expression falters, and then turns sympathetic and determined in equal measure. “Okay!” He says, agreeing easily, and then reaches out to grab Arlo’s glove-clad hand in his own. He tugs him forward, bright smile returning to his face. “I saw a bakery a little over there! Do you like sweets?”

“…They’re not bad.” Arlo answers, following along behind him.

Neige turns back to look at him, “Let’s get something there, then! And we can sit down and you can tell me all about your week.”

The mer smiles back, unable to resist, “I’m sure your week was much busier than mine.” He says.

[nadvs]

can i request for the swte universe in their college days, reader seems like a perfectionist to me so what if she failed on an exam or she didn't get there in time and she failed her class and she got really upset, feeling terrible about herself, very disappointed and rafe tries to uplift her mood, trying to get her out of her dorm room?🤍🤍🤍

omg yessss i always love your prompts 🥹

based on this fic

» au masterlist

she had a bad feeling about the midterm. sometimes she could tell when she was being too hard on herself, when she was catastrophizing, but she knew she wasn’t exaggerating when she told rafe that her mind went blank during the test and that she’s sure she failed.

now, as she sits in her dorm checking her grade on her laptop the night after, she gets the confirmation.

she texts her boyfriend, just like she did when they were best friends and told each other everything. i was right.

her phone starts buzzing with a phone call.

“you okay?” he says when she picks up. he remembers that her grade was supposed to be posted tonight.

“no,” she says with a defeated laugh.

rafe is with the guys, watching a game at the house. he stands up off the couch, holding his phone to his ear. one of his housemates points to the screen, eyebrow raised, clearly confused why rafe would leave when there’s a minute left in an intense game.

but he ignores him, rounding the corner to pace into the hallway. he leans back against a wall, arm crossed over his chest.

“how bad is it?” he asks.

“so bad that i’m working on an email to my prof to ask if i can retake it or do anything for extra credit,” she says. “i didn’t even pass.”

he can hear the panic in her voice. rafe chews on his thumbnail as he stares down at the floor.

“it’s not over,” he says. he realizes he sounds just like he does when he’s trying to motivate his teammates between periods during a rough game. he rethinks his approach. this isn’t a game. this is his girl. and she’s freaked out about her future.

“baby, it happens,” he says. “everyone fails at some point.”

“this is so bad,” she mumbles. “i’m so stupid.”

he grimaces. they’re basically the same person. he knows how much pressure she puts on herself. sometimes, he’s almost certain that she thinks she has to be perfect to be worth something, just like he does.

“where are you?” he asks.

“home.” her inhale is shaky. “i shouldn’t have stayed up late studying so much. i thought it’d be better to learn what i could, but running on barely any sleep must’ve messed me up.”

“send the email,” he says. “and be ready in half an hour, okay?”

she’s quiet for a moment.

“why?”

“because i know you’re gonna sit in your room all night, beating yourself up, thinking about what you should’ve done and there’s no point to any of it,” he says. “just be ready, alright?”

moments like these, she’s glad her boyfriend is so bossy and decisive. her head is such a mess right now, somehow feeling both chaotic and blank at the same time.

rafe texts when he arrives. when she settles in his passenger seat, he can see that she’s been crying. he shuts off his music and gently pulls her in, his palm at the back of her neck, so that she’ll nuzzle into his chest.

it’s his go-to move when she’s upset. it always works. after crying against him for a moment, her breaths start to even out.

he kisses her forehead, his hand running up and down her back. he hates this feeling, when she’s so stressed out and he’s utterly powerless.

“you’re not stupid,” he mumbles against her hair.

“i am. i’m so disappointed in myself,” she says, her voice brittle. “how could i fuck up this bad?”

he frowns. he knows her well enough by now. sometimes she needs tough love. sometimes it’s the only thing that’ll pull her out of her haze.

“it happened,” he says. he pulls back just enough so she can look up at him. “can you change that it happened?”

“no.”

“is calling yourself stupid going to fix it?”

“no.”

“that’s my girl you’re talking to,” he says, his blue eyes sweeping over her face in worry. “my girl isn’t stupid.”

her lips twist in sorrow, but she nods, eyelids fluttering. she spirals sometimes. she can tell she’s doing it right now.

rafe’s hand rests on her damp cheek, rubbing his thumb over her skin.

“you anxious?” he asks.

“very,” she replies.

so, he decides to see if his most effective way of cooling down when he’s wired will help her.

he pulls into a lot by an outdoor court he always sees on his drive to her campus and takes the basketball out of his trunk when he parks.

“this is kind of unfair,” she says lightheartedly when she gets out of his car into the cool night air. “no chance i’m winning a one-on-one against you.”

“we’re just shooting hoops,” he says, putting an arm around her as he holds the ball to his chest.

the court is empty and quiet and dimly lit. they stand below one of the nets, bouncing the ball back and forth between each other.

“what if i fail the course?” she says.

“you won’t.”

“but if i do?”

“if you do, you’ll survive,” rafe replies. “you think some class can take you down?”

she breathes a chuckle. when she gets the ball back, she holds it, standing across from him, staring. all they ever are with each other is honest. it’s how it’s always been.

“i’m scared,” she admits. “i’m scared this will throw off my timing and i won’t graduate when i want to.”

“baby, there’s no way that’s happening,” he says confidently. “one bad grade won’t do that.”

“you seem so sure,” she states. she bounces the ball back to him.

“here. if i make this, it means you’ll fail the course.”

he takes the ball in both hands, holds it over his head, and throws it so it hits the rim hard, making the whole backboard shake as the ball goes flying down the court.

“i think that was rigged,” she says, the ache in her chest loosening as she laughs.

“we’ll never know,” rafe half-shouts as he runs to pick up the ball. he bounces it back to her.

she dribbles it a few times, squaring up with the net, and launches the ball in the air. it falls in the net.

“nice,” he breathes. “don’t let my coach see you. he’ll replace me.”

she turns to look at him, mirroring his smile.

“you’re laying it on a little thick, cameron,” she teases. she’s touched that he’s being so sweet just to cheer her up.

“just telling it like it is,” he says. he passes the ball to her again. “let’s see how you do with some defense.”

he steps between her and the net, a hard wall against her. his hands find her hips as she tries to line up with the net, his big frame moving with her.

“i’m pretty sure that’s a technical foul,” she says. “you can’t touch me like that.”

“nah, that’s not a rule.”

“you can’t just decide that,” she laughs.

“such a tight-ass,” he scoffs with a smirk, taking his hands off her hips and cradling her face. “how about this? this allowed?”

she giggles, holding the ball in one hand and hooking the other around his neck to pull him closer. their lips touch tenderly, both of them expelling a quiet sigh of contentment under the kiss.

she pulls back. he’s too busy staring at her in awe to block her from making another shot.

“your defense sucks,” she teases. rafe puts his hand to his chest in mock outrage.

“now you’re trash-talking?” he says. she watches him pick up the ball. he makes it look so effortless, the net swishing as the ball whizzes through it.

she’s seen him on the court so many times before, but she never tires of the sight, always so struck by how skilled he is.

they play for another twenty minutes, talking and taking turns shooting hoops, until she finally feels too tired to keep going. and she realizes she hasn’t thought about her failed midterm the entire time.

“thank you,” she says as they settle in his car. “i feel better. sweaty, but better.”

“it always works. just gotta burn your energy on something else so you can’t use it stressing out.”

“smart,” she says. “i’ll keep that in mind when i take your spot on the team.”

“i’m not so sure about that anymore,” he says. “you take fucking forever to throw. you’d run out the shot clock every time.”

she laughs, thinking about how many times in the last twenty minutes she kept the ball in her hands while she got lost in conversation with him.

she playfully shoves him, but he takes her hand and pulls her in, meeting her in a slow kiss.

“listen, i don’t want to hear the word stupid come out of your mouth again,” he mumbles. “not when you’re talking about yourself. i’m serious.”

she looks down at her lap, exhaling slowly. she knows he’s right. there’s no reason for her to bully herself so mercilessly.

“okay.”

“and please, baby,” he says solemnly, his tone deep as if he’s about to say something serious, “throw the ball faster next time.”

“i hate you,” she laughs, shoving him again. he smirks at her, putting the car in drive.

rafe has felt proud of himself a few times in his life, mostly with his athletic achievements, but he thinks that hearing her laugh, knowing he’s the one who made her feel better, is the proudest he’s ever felt.

[causenessus]

love notes

part 0.19. UNSPOKEN CONFESSIONS

"it wouldn't break your back to stand beside me."

from superstar sh*t by dominic fike, left at the umeda sky building, osaka

“are you gonna tell me where we’re going yet?” he asks as the train starts to move, their arms brushing as they both lurch to the right from the sudden change in force.

it’s taken everything within her not to immediately spill out her entire heart to him. the moment she opened the door and saw him, she couldn’t think of anything but all the art he’s been sending her for the past two years– of all the places he’s taken her. she knows he’s done so much for her, and she tells herself she needs to do the same. she needs to wait until they get to their destination.

“nope,” she hums giving him a bright smile. thinking of what she’ll say when they finally arrive (she’s trying not to refer to it as her impending doom) makes her feel surprisingly calm. perhaps, compared to the amount of stress that's been building up for the past four years starting from when she first saw him at the vending machine, the thought of actually getting out her feelings isn’t as bad. “but i’m sure you can guess. you’ve got the train we’re going on, and i’ve mentioned something about what we’re going to do before.”

he looks at her, brows raised and his lips quirked up into a smile like hers, as if her mood is rubbing off on him. he started off the day feeling quite lethargic, but ever since her texts, he’s been feeling more energetic. his heart’s been racing almost every time he looks at her, and he’s reminded of the texts he sent her two nights ago, and how she responded. she's been tweeting about him, saying she’s missed him, and he has yet to bring it up. depending on where they go, maybe he’ll find the time to bring it up today. “do i get to know what stop we’re getting off at? and when did you mention it? like in the last week or…”

she purses her lips in thought, looking ahead of them, out the window and the bright city passing by them in a blur, “no, you don’t get to know. and i think i mentioned it….within the last two years?”

he lets out a laugh that has her turning back to him, confused as if she hasn’t given him the biggest time frame ever to work with. “within the past two years? yeah, i think i’m better off just waiting until we get there, actually.”

“i guess that’s fair,” she says, letting out her own laugh, glancing down at her own phone to double-check what stop they're getting off on. 

the rest of their ride is quite relaxing. she finds it simultaneously hard and easy to talk to him; she’s giving him curt answers without meaning to, as most of her focus is directed towards thinking of what she’ll say to him in the next hour. but he notices and opts for a quiet game they often play on long train rides instead. he kicks the side of her shoe with his foot and she kicks him back. it’s a game that usually gets out of hand, and soon they’re knocking knees and hitting each other through fits of laughter before they try to calm down– an old lady is giving them the eye from across the train and only shakes her head when they both try to straighten their clothes, acting composed.

he smooths down her hair without thinking twice about the action, but the feeling of his hand on her makes her freeze. her face turns red and she can’t bring herself to look at him, instead pretending to be distracted by something on her phone, when she’s really just staring at the map on her screen.

the train slows to a stop and she stands up, turning to glance quickly toward him to make sure he’s following. he walks behind her as they step off the train where she momentarily stops, trying to navigate which direction they’re supposed to be walking in while he looks up and around, taking in his surroundings. his brows are knit, like he’s trying to figure out what could have possibly brought them to this area of osaka.

“and you still won’t tell me?” he asks, walking alongside her when they start moving again. he tries to peek at her face, but she's still refusing to look up at him from her phone and he’s not entirely sure what he’s done to make her suddenly act so shy again.

she’s a mess and she knows it. and she knows she’ll continue to be until she talks to him, so she only shakes her head. “no, i’m not ruining the surprise. but you’ll figure it out soon enough.”

the walk is short. it takes them just under 10 minutes and after crossing a busy road, they're walking through a trade center next to a tall building towering high above them.

rintaro walks next to her, but his head is tilted back as he looks up, and she can’t help but admire him from the side. “a skyscraper?” he observes aloud.

she nods, “it’s the umeda sky building. have you not heard of it before?”

he looks back down at her, yellow eyes sharp as always as he stares at her, and she tries her best to keep her composure under his gaze. “no, i haven’t. what are we here for?” he asks, tilting his head. “it's cool, but i’m just curious. you seem like you have something planned.”

she bumps shoulders with him, feeling like for once she gets to be the mischievous one, hiding something from him, “i do have a plan! i guess you’ll just have to keep walking with me, and find out.”

he’d walk with her to the end of the earth and he wouldn’t utter a single word of complaint about it if he had her. he almost thinks to tell her as much, before he holds himself back, continuing to look at her while she turns forward, trying to find the entrance to the tower.

they take an elevator up at least 30 floors, the both of them watching a small screen at the top of the elevator that counts how high up they are in the sky. afterwards, a long escalator takes them up even higher. it’s a little dizzying, seeing the ground so far below her, and she ends up stealing glances at the boy beside her instead. he seems intrigued by the height and sights below, and as they step off the escalator, they stand at a window and watch the sight of the city below them.

she’s feeling a little brave, and hell, she’ll be confessing to him later today anyway, she might as well start giving him hints. subtly, she tugs at his hand, pointing to her right with her free hand when she has his attention, “there’s a cafe over here if we want, and then we’re actually here for something else.”

he nods and follows her, but she keeps her hand wrapped around his. the contact is making his breath shorten. he’s torn between holding her hand back or just letting her continue to drag him along, but he decides to intertwine his fingers with hers and when she looks back, lips curved into a smile, he’s glad he took the risk.

the cafe serves drinks and ice cream, and they settle on just a matcha ice cream, with two spoons to share. they talk a little more, sitting at a high table with the sight of the bustling city below them right outside the window before she pulls him along again. they walk through a doorway to a balcony outside where a breeze is gently blowing through. they pass by a security guard, clad in a white button down, who is leaning against a railing when he sees it.

a level below them, there's a fence with an assortment of padlocks on them and it pieces together. the day he asked her to take him to the darkroom with her, and the conversation they had on the way there. she follows his gaze down to the fence and they both stop, looking over the railing from where they are. “do you remember now?” she asks, watching as a couple walks out from the floor beneath them, a locket in hand as they search for a place to put it on the fence.

‘i don’t think i’ll ever forget a word you say to me.’ he wants to say. so many words have gotten caught in his throat today, all of them unspoken confessions. “yeah. i remember now,” he opts to say instead, eyes following the same couple she is, as they bend down to attach it to the fence together. "couples leaving a mark on their city. a lock symbolizing their love that will last longer than they were," he recounts from their conversation years ago.

“wanna put one on with me?” she asks, looking him straight in the eye. 

every noise dies out for a second at the question. is this where he’s supposed to tell her he likes her? way more than a friend? and that she shouldn’t ask him to put a heart locket on a fence that will be there for the rest of their lives and even after when he doesn’t see her as just a friend? because she’d tell him if they were putting this locket on together as something more than friends, right?

“sure,” he ends up saying, because no matter how much he worries about his feelings and how he shouldn’t be doing this to her, he can’t help it when it comes to her. he’s selfish, and he wants to do everything he can with her. he wants to be with her every second of the day.

his hand is in hers again, and he decides to take the chance, rather than worrying about how he'll overthink the moment later. wasn't this what his entire high school volleyball career had taught him? the banner that hung behind him at every game; telling him to live in the present, rather than thinking about memories. he holds her hand just as tightly as she is, and they practically run down a set of stairs, coming to a counter, a sign reading HEART LOCKS hanging on the wall behind it. underneath the sign is an opening in the wall, where heart-shaped lockets are hanging, organized by color. 

they decide on a pink one, and they’re given a blade to engrave their names onto it. she etches her name into the back of the padlock first before handing it to him, and he feels the pit of guilt gnawing at him as he writes his own name. he shouldn’t be doing this when he feels differently from her than she does, but when they give the blade back to the worker and she looks up at him with a smile, the locket in both of their hands, all of his worries melt away again.

like the pair they saw earlier, they walk outside and along the fence, looking for a place to put their own locket. they decide on a high rung of the fence, and they both close the padlock around it together, his hands over hers.

when they step back from the fence, both unable to look away from the lock, she tears her gaze away first, looking at the boy in front of her. this is the moment she’s been waiting for. “rin,” the words spill out of her mouth before she’s truly ready, but he looks away from the lock to her, giving her his full attention, and she can’t back down. the script in her mind that she’s worked so hard this whole time to form fades away, and she decides to just go for it. “i like you.”

his breath hitches at the words, and he swallows heavily, frozen in place. his eyes dart back between her and the padlock, mouth opening slightly. “y/n–” the only thing that comes out of his mouth is her name, but she cuts him off before he can finish.

“wait– please– let me finish. just hear me out until the end, please. i don’t want to get any of this wrong.” his lack of response is causing her confidence to dwindle with every second, and she nervously pulls at her fingers out of habit, but he gives her a small nod and she continues, “this is gonna sound really stupid, but i’ve liked you since high school, honestly. i’ve wanted to tell you for so long but i’ve just been scared. and then i found out you’ve been leaving art about me in other cities and i felt selfish. like this entire time i've been wrapped up in my own head and it's been preventing me from giving you clear signs about how i feel about you when you've been doing so much for me. and i’m sorry but god– i’ve liked you since we’ve met. i’ve been drawn to you ever since. even after we graduated, my feelings hadn’t gone away. but i didn’t think you felt the same way– i mean you’re just completely out of my league. you’re so talented and i feel like i don’t deserve everything you’ve done for me. all the time you’ve spent with me, everything you’ve sent me, all the places you’ve shown me– you're too good to me. but this is my way of trying to give back to you for once. and i wanted to take you up here to confess– although i guess i shouldn’t have forced you to sign a love lock with me before doing that–” she laughs nervously at her own mistake, and he laughs with her, out of his own anxiety.

and because she’s cute, for thinking there’s any chance he doesn’t return her feelings. he doesn’t think there’s any words that could explain to her the yearning in his heart for her, that’s been pulling her towards him in the same way ever since he first saw her. so instead, he steps forward, hands lifting to run through her hair and gently hold the sides of her head to pull her close before he kisses her.

her eyes widen in shock initially, but soon enough she's squeezing her eyes, reaching up her own arms, wrapping them around his neck and pulling him closer. their noses knock into each other, but neither of them can care. their heads are dizzy and light without oxygen, but it’s like they aren’t even close enough, despite their bodies being flush with each other.

he only barely pulls away when he’s forced to catch his breath, but his face is still inches away from her own, pretty yellow-gray eyes boring into hers. “you have no idea how long i’ve wanted to do that for,” he says, lips brushing against hers again as he talks.

the corners of her eyes crinkle as she smiles, unable to do anything but laugh again, “you have no idea how long i’ve wanted to do that. and it still feels unreal.”

“i can do it again,” he replies quickly, not even giving her the chance to respond before he’s kissing her again, hands holding onto her sides.

his lips against hers feels like everything she could have asked for. it’s more vibrant than any picture she’s ever taken, and despite her eyes being closed, the feelings it gets across is more powerful than any sight she could ever see.

when they pull away again, they’ve ended up against a railing, her back pressing against the cold surface as they both hold each other close.

“and just for the record,” he says, a teasing smile on his face, still unable to look away from her, “i think i would’ve stopped you before we signed a locket together if i didn’t feel the same way. just a thought.”

her cheeks flush, and she feels like she’s been brought back to reality, her eyes averting away from him as the grip of her arms around him loosens.

“hey,” he has a hand on the side of her face that draws her attention back to him, and she finds herself reflexively pressing gently into the palm of his hand, “keep looking at me. i’m not letting you out of my sight now that i have you, and i’ll give you my whole confession too.” she laughs, continuing to stare at him, finding herself admiring every small feature of his face. she’s never been this close to him, but now that she is, she finds herself memorizing every curve and line of his face. “i’ve liked you for just as long, you know. sometimes you being there for our games would mess me up. i’d keep looking at you and eventually kita caught on and chewed me out. but i thought it’d be weird if i told you in high school, because we never talked so i didn’t think you’d return my feelings. and then at graduation, osamu lectured me too and i decided when we got to college i’d finally get to know you. i was really surprised, honestly, when you let me follow you around the photography department, and take you on walks at night around the city, and would let me bother you your entire shifts with osamu. and you deserve every single thing i've given you and more. but i thought you just considered me a really good friend after everything we did together. i thought i'd completely messed up and gotten myself stuck in the friendzone forever. and honestly, i was going to be happy there. i was gonna be happy as long as i had you–but i’ve thought about you every waking second. i’ve wanted to be with you since i met you.”

she can’t help the way her face softens at his words, and her heart is beating faster, she does the same thing he did after her confession. she pulls him in for another kiss, and he’s quick to reciprocate it, a hand pressed against the small of her back, keeping her from the railing. 

when they break for air again, they remain in each other’s arms. it’s an unspoken, mutual thought they’re both having: ‘now that i have you, i’m never letting you go. it’s been too long.’

she ends up running a hand through his hair, combing it back, and he’s admiring her face, taking in every single detail.

“well, osamu will be happy finally, won’t he?” she can’t help but joke, and he chuckles.

“yeah, he’ll finally stop getting on our ass all the time, that’s for sure. maybe that’s why i’ve been so tired lately. he’s been the one giving me a headache this entire time,” he says, finally taking his eyes off her, only to lean closer, nuzzling his face into the side of her neck while she holds him close.

“he meant well,” she says halfheartedly, running a hand through his hair. “he has been with us these entire four years as well. so has atsumu and omi. they got sick of it and told me about your graffiti.”

his head snaps up in surprise at the mention, “they’re who told you? those little shits, atsumu can’t keep a secret to save his life, i should’ve known. but omi–”

“well–” she cuts him off, trying to defend their friends, “atsumu was tired and was running his mouth and accidentally ended up saying it, so he doesn’t have an excuse. but then i pulled in omi to the conversation and forced him to confirm it, so you can’t blame him.”

rintaro rolls his eyes, “whatever. they both still betrayed me, and omi almost gave me away with the flower box, didn’t he?”

“speaking of which,” she says, looking at him with a smile, “you need to take me back there. you promised to give me those flowers, you know.”

he returns her smile, a lively glint as always, and she can’t think of anywhere else she’d rather be than his arms. they’ve always been on the move, wandering around new places, and going new places, yet it never bothers her. she has him with her. he is her comfort, her walls to keep her safe, and her home. “we can go now, if you want.”

“let’s do it.”

prev. | m.list | next

extras <3

everyone thank osamu for his service that man was definitely one of the people pushing the hardest for suna and y/n

THEY KISSED (finally) <3 i hope you enjoyed!!!! and that this wasn't a super underwhelming chapter or anything :)

the umeda sky building is a real skyscraper in osaka where you can legally put love locks on a fence <3 it's only purpose is for love locks! it's vv cute <3

i watched a 12 minute video last night of someone touring the building so i could see what it looked like LMAO

when suna was leaving to see y/n the rest of his roomates were in bed but they heard the front door unlock and all peeked their heads out to see who was leaving

i did make moodboards for love notes as a whole, one each for suna and y/n, and one for them together <3 you can see them on the masterlist if ur interested!!

one chapter left!! let's go epilogue <3

taglist: @0moonii @iluvmang @bluebeanbee @wyrcan @oyasumeii @zumicho @gyuijns @nbcvs @milkteade @eggyrocks @guitarstringed-scars @makkir0ll @mylahrins @cherrypieyourface @vivian-555 @sharkerino @r0seandth0rns @staileykout @lunavixia @thvvluvr @elliott0o0 @wolffmaiden @rockleeisbaeeee @toges-cough-syrup @cnnmairoll @ryeyeyer @hibernatinghamster @localgaytrainwreck @lemonocity @bows4life @sereniteav @madiexuberant @eclecticeggknightpsychic @phoenix-eclipses @sonicsolos @httpakkeiji @brkfclub @snail-squasher @starry-magicshop @cr4yolaas @kitnootkat @zzzlevislothzzz @iluv-ace @iluvaquaphor @stayyyyyyyyyyyy21 @applepi25 @twiishaa @girlkissersco @sleepystrwbrryy @encrypta  

[herweirdass]

maybe a fic abt two people who love each other dearly but just aren’t good for one another.

divided shores | rafe cameron

the outer banks were nothing like the city you’d grown up in. the endless beaches, golden sunsets, and tight-knit community were a far cry from the bustling streets you were used to. moving here felt like stepping into a different world—one where everyone seemed to already know each other, and the divide between kooks and pogues ran deep.

you were a pogue now, not that you’d chosen a side. living in a modest house on the cut, working shifts at a local diner, and hanging out with jj, kie, and pope made it clear where you stood in the social hierarchy. but you didn’t care about the labels—at least, not until you met rafe cameron.

it started innocently enough. you ran into him at the marina while helping jj with a boat repair job. rafe had leaned against his truck, watching with mild curiosity before offering a sarcastic comment about pogues “fixing scraps.”

“got something to say, kook?” you shot back, not even looking up from your task.

his grin had been infuriating. “just wondering how someone like you ended up here. you don’t look like the rest of them.”

it wasn’t the best first impression, but for some reason, rafe kept showing up. at the diner where you worked, at the beach bonfires, even at the marina again. his cocky attitude slowly gave way to something softer, something that made your stomach flip when he looked at you.

against all odds, you started spending time together—first in secret, then out in the open. it wasn’t long before the whispers started.

“rafe, are you seriously hanging out with her?” his kook friends would sneer. “what’s next? you gonna start wearing cut-off jeans and drinking beer from cans?”

meanwhile, jj wasn’t much better. “are you out of your mind? that guy’s a cameron. he’s bad news.”

at first, you and rafe laughed it off. the sneers, the gossip, the disapproving looks from both sides—it didn’t matter when it was just the two of you, sitting on the beach and talking about dreams that felt too big for this island. but over time, the weight of everyone’s judgment started to sink in.

“maybe they’re right,” you muttered one night, after yet another argument with jj about rafe. “maybe this… whatever we’re doing… doesn’t make sense.”

rafe frowned, his brows furrowing. “you’re really gonna let them decide that for us?”

“it’s not just them, rafe,” you said, your voice cracking. “it’s everything. your family, my friends. we’re from two different worlds. how are we supposed to make this work when everyone is against us?”

he was silent for a moment, staring out at the ocean. finally, he said, “i don’t know. but i know i don’t want to lose you. not because of them.”

the vulnerability in his voice made your heart ache. but doubt was a heavy thing, and it had been building for weeks.

“maybe we need some space,” you whispered, your chest tight.

rafe looked at you, his jaw tightening. “if that’s what you want.”

“it’s not what i want,” you said quickly. “but it’s what we need. for now.”

he nodded, though the pain in his eyes was evident. “okay.”

for the next few weeks, you tried to keep your distance, throwing yourself into work and spending time with the pogues. but nothing felt right. no amount of laughter with jj or heart-to-hearts with kie could fill the void that rafe had left.

it wasn’t until a chance encounter at the beach, late one night, that things came to a head. rafe was sitting on the dunes, his figure silhouetted against the moonlight.

“i didn’t think you’d be here,” you said softly, approaching him.

“could say the same to you,” he replied, his voice quiet.

you sat beside him, the silence stretching between you. finally, he said, “i tried to stay away, but i can’t. i don’t care what anyone says, or how hard this is. you’re worth it.”

tears pricked your eyes as you looked at him. “rafe…”

“i’m serious,” he interrupted, turning to face you. “they can hate us all they want. let them. but i’m done letting them make me doubt what i feel for you.”

his words broke something inside you, the wall of doubt and fear you’d been building. without thinking, you leaned forward, pressing your lips to his.

it wasn’t a perfect resolution. the disapproval from both sides didn’t magically disappear, and the challenges didn’t vanish. but that night, sitting under the stars with rafe’s arms around you, you knew one thing for sure: love was worth fighting for.

my first rafe fic ahhhhh

[edmundosmustache]

best buddie episodes and why:

2x01 under pressure- duh. buck’s bi panic was so funny to watch and him folding immediately after eddie looks at him with his big brown eyes is peak

3x03 the searchers- the tsunami arc has always been that girl. the christopher eddie reunification scene paired with “there’s nobody in this world i trust with my son more than you” like pls just kiss already IM TIRED

3x15 eddie begins- i’ve been watching since the show has been on air, and there has been maybe two episodes that top this one. this was the episode when i started seriously shipping buddie. buck going absolutely apeshit when eddie got buried and most of eddies flashbacks including buck was what really sealed the deal for me.

4x03 future tense- this one is just so domestic. the scene where buck and chris are playing video games on the couch and buck buying an expensive coffee maker solely to prank eddie… they’re so married it makes me sick

4x14 survivors- this is top 3 buddie episodes of all time. sniper arc you will always be famous!!! eddie asking buck if he’s hurt, the physical touch, BUCK CALLING EDDIE “EDS” oh that boy is down so bad. the will scene takes the cake though. I think this episode is the best one in terms of buddie’s relationship progression.

5x06 brawl in cell block 911- the main parts of this episode that i really love are when buck gets very protective over christopher OR when he thinks eddie gets shot (again.) season 5 was probably the slowest buddie season, but there are still soooo many good moments sprinkled in

6x10 in a flash- again, very obvious. “alright cowboy go get em!” kills me every time. this episode is why i can’t decide whether i want a buck nde or an eddie nde in 8b. i want to see eddie DISTRAUGHT again… him trying to pull buck up towards him screaming is just too good

7x04 buck, bothered and bewildered- another peak buddie episode. even tommy knew that buck was trying to get eddies attention the whole time. i’m honestly surprised that this wasn’t bucks realization arc. The entire episode was focused on eddie. even when tommy came over to flirt with buck he STILL found a way to talk about eddie, multiple times. bi buck canon was also life changing and this episode is top 3 for that reason.

7x05 you don’t know me- season 7 has banger after banger episodes. watching the trailer for this episode and seeing eddie crash bucktommy’s date was the icing on the cake tbh. this ep is how i knew marisol and eddie were not going to last. eddie stop terrorizing the women of LA challenge (level: impossible.) the coming out scene is also just one of the best buddie scenes they’ve ever done, it’s so raw and emotional and captures their characters so well.

7x06 there goes the groom- another season seven episode but it has to be included because of the bachelor party. bachelor party buddie is going to be nearly impossible to top. it’s also cute how they don’t leave each others side for most of this episode.

8x06 confessions- i think this episode is top 3 for buddie relationship development. it’s very bucktommy centric but we get hot priest talking to eddie and bucktommy bones. AND how could we forget the risky business scene. i think this episode is when they put buddie canon in motion. eddie dealing w his catholic/regular guilt and saying he’s straight smells like a gay arc to me. buck immediately going to eddie after breaking up with his boyfriend, AND interrupting eddie’s activity that is supposed to bring him pure joy just seems too obvious. at this point we are past subtext and now getting into true buddie canon territory.

anyway! hope this was enjoyed. if anyone has other episodes they think should be added please share!!! there are so many good episodes i probably missed <3