#and i decided to write this instead of sleeping

[gravegoer]

Do you write for Grayson by any chance? I really wished we got see more of her before her unfortunate demise

Sevika, Ambessa, Grayson

i write for anyone! and you can request a separate thing for grayson if you'd like but I decided to do the 3 butches in 1 so here's some random stuff for them <3 (this is needed after the pain of act 3)

my masterlist

council member sevika fic

Ambessa doesn't love often, but when she does, she loves HARD.

Since you're close to her, she is constantly worried people about hurting you to get to her.

You might have enforcers on you 24/7 unless you tell her to stop and if that's the case. She will follow you around herself. Making sure people know you are always under a close watch by her.

When you walk in public together, she likes you to have your arms wrapped around her bicep/forearm, keeping you as close as possible.

If that's not in your taste she will sling a heavy arm over your shoulder, careful not to weigh you down.

She is always buying you expensive and lavish clothing. If your gaze lingers on anything for too long, you'll see it at your doorstep the next day.

When you see a nice shop you like she's going to take you in and make you try on clothes for her. Putting her hand on your waist as she spins you around. Inviting you to stand between her spread legs so she can see the details better.

If you like to wear heels and your feet start to get tired, she will sit you down and take them off your feet herself, opting to carry you around for the next few hours.

When she carries you, you can see all the scars on her arms and face in full detail. She doesn't seem to mind your staring and might even take pride in herself.

As you're cuddling, she loves it when you trace your fingers over her scars, admiring every bump and edge. She will tell you dramatic stories about how she got them. (Definitely exaggerating some details.)

You could talk together for ages, bringing up random stories and irrelevant details. Her rough hands combing through your hair, or massaging your shoulders.

This was a weekly thing in the hot springs. She sits on the ledge above you while your shoulders slot themselves between her thick, scarred thighs.

She will take care of you without expecting anything back, but she definitely loves it when you return the favor. She will rest her head on your thighs and groan in pleasure when you massage her temples or scalp.

Grayson is a romantic, she will be showing up at your door with flowers in hand.

If she met you in Zaun, she will insist on taking you out on a fancy dinner date at her favorite Piltover resteraunt.

If you refuse, that's okay too. She's fine with eating at any of Zaun's resteraunts. (Just not seafood, please.)

She's asking you what your favorite flower is so she can bring you those instead next time.

And if you are a Zaunite, she isn't ashamed of your relationship, showing you off proudly. After all, all the enforcers do look up to her. What are they going to do?

If you don't know how to shoot, she will be more than pleased to teach you. Your back is pressed against her warm chest as she wraps her arms around you to hold the gun steady.

Her rough voice firmly commands you on where to put your hands and which parts do what.

Speaking of her voice, she knows you love it when she whispers sweet nothings in your ear before you drift off to sleep. Her muscled arm cushioning your head and cradling you close to her chest.

It's easy for her to fall asleep once she knows you're safe and comfortable. (That's why she insists on moving in together.

Actually, she insists on doing a lot of things together. For example, she appreciates when you work out with her, sitting on her back while she does pushups, or maybe spotting her while she presses some weight. (Not that she needs it. She just wants you close)

She instructs you on what workouts you can do and where to place her hands, maybe placing hers on yours for a bit too long.

You can see the sweat gleam on her forehead and the veins in her forearm after every set she completes. This is a sight you can grow to appreciate.

She definitely subtlety flexes when you touch her arm or basically anywhere else she can possibly bring herself to flex. (You notice)

Sevika is the gentlest giant. At first, you might assume her tone is rough and condescending. But after some time, you start to see through her facade.

Her tone around is more firm and calm. It's more around you than anyone else. She tries not to get aggressive or angry with you.

And if she does, she's immediately making it up to you in every way but saying "sorry"

She's bringing you your favroite foods, giving you a little more affection than usual, reluctantly letting you fidget with her mechanical arm.

She does take you out to places, albeit not the fanciest. She makes do with what Zaun has to offer. Buying you a drink at the bar or a trip across the city.

Although she's not really a big fan of PDA, she will let you hold her arm while walking around Zaun. She swears it's a safety precaution to make sure no creeps get close.

When she plays cards at the bar, you are always beside her, no arguements. She doesn't want you sitting by any of the other shady men that play with her.

Maybe if there is few enough people you can sit in her lap and light her cigarillo for her.

What you don't do in public is definitely made up for in private.

She lays on your lap after a long day, taking deep inhales into your stomach to calm down. Grabbing your hand, she'll encourage you to run your fingers through her hair.

Let's you hold her face in your hands and trace her intricate scar while her eyes are closed, completely letting her guard down.

Her large hand engulfs your own as she cradles your hand close to her face, imprinting this memory in her mind.

Just know she is extremely touch starved. Most of the touching she gets all day is punches and kicks, nothing close to the gentle sweep of your fingers on her exposed skin.

She isn't a big gift giver, but if you give her a neat suprise, like an expensive zippo or a new shirt (God knows she needs one) you swear you see a small tear in the corner of her eye. Maybe its just the light.

But who cares because her lips will immediately be on yours, engulfed in a hot kiss.

i feel like sevika needed more screen time in the last act but its okay as long as she didn't die...

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

can you see the stars in your dreams (and do they have a lot to say about me) - Part 17

Or: a secret Admirer AU

PART 1 || PART 2 || PART 3 || PART 4 || PART 5 || PART 6 || PART 7 || PART 8 || PART 9 || PART 10 || PART 11 || PART 1 || PART 13 || PART 14 || PART 15 || PART 16

Eddie’s back to school on Tuesday, black eye turning a mottled sort of green, lip scabbed over. From where he’s hemmed in by Robin and Chrissy, Steve watches Eddie catch a glimpse of him and bolt the other way.

Jeff sighs, lets go of his hold on Chrissy’s arm, and says, “sorry, Steve. I’m just gonna—” and then he points toward Eddie and follows after him without another word.

Steve’s gut clenches with guilt. He’d put that look on Eddie’s face, had caused the rift in his and Jeff’s friendship, had split the forming group up with his ridiculous crush. But Chrissy and Robin are still here, standing by his side.

“Are he and Jeff okay?” Steve asks, biting his lip as he glances at Chrissy.

“I think so,” she says, looking after her boyfriend. “They talked on the phone, but Jeff didn’t tell me what about.”

“Forget about them,” Robin replies, reaching out to take his hand even as it makes everyone around them stare. “Come on, Stevie, or we’ll be late to Ms. Clickity Clack’s class.”

Steve passes the rest of the day in a daze, the spot at his side a revolving cast of Chrissy, Robin, and Jeff, like they’d all talked behind his back and decided he couldn’t be trusted with being alone right now. Steve can’t blame them because as soon as he’s left unattended in his big empty house, he gets out his notebook and pen, and begins to write.

   Eddie —

   I’m sorry I never got to read your last letter, but it wasn’t for me anyways. Maybe none of them were, not really. And I’m sorry about that, even sorrier about how your pretty face got caught in the ceasefire. I’m just full of sorries I’m to scared to tell to your face—from the way you ran when you saw me in the hallway this morning, maybe you wouldn’t want me to anyway.

   You’ve always been the brave one, so you must really want to not see me, huh? I hope you and Jeff are friends again. I’m sorry about that too, I’m the one who asked him not to tell you. I was afraid, but that’s no excuse.

   I don’t know how to stop wanting to right write to you. I can’t turn off the part of me that still wants to know everything about you. There’s a whole in my heart, and I keep trying to find people to fill it, but I can never be in love with someone who loves me back. You know?

   I’m sorry, Eddie. Maybe someday, I’ll get to say it to your face.

   Sorry,

   Steve

He closes the notebook on the damning words and shoves it into his nightstand so he doesn’t have to look at it. Sleep doesn’t come—the house is too quiet. He grabs the phone off his dresser and calls the only other person he knows whose parents trust them enough to have a phone in their bedroom.

“H’lo?” Robin mutters sleepily after finally picking up the phone six rings later.

She sounds tired—Steve’s sorry he woke her. “I wrote another letter,” he says.

That seems to perk her up instantly, as she hisses down the line, “Steven James Harrington.”

“Not my name, Robin Steven Bobbington,” he replies, talking right over her shrieked “well, that’s not mine!” to continue, “I’m not going to send it.”

“You better not,” she replies, and Steve can hear some rustling on her end, like she’s settling back down into her bed. He wishes, suddenly, that he was in there with her, clutching her hand as they fall asleep side by side. Instead, he lays down on his own bed and concentrates on the noises coming down the line.

“Is it stupid that I miss him?” he asks.

“Yeah, kinda.”

“Robin!”

She laughs, a quiet sleepy chuckle that warms him straight through. “I’m just saying! He’s been treating you like shit, Stevie.”

Steve sighs, burrowing down under his comforter and taking the phone with him. “He was different in the letters,” he whispers, like someone in his empty house might hear him otherwise. “Sweeter, you know?”

Robin sighs, “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, me too.”

There’s enough sorries to go around for all of them, apparently. They’re quiet for a while, Robin’s breathing keeping him company in his big, lonely bed with his big, lonely thoughts.

“I love you, Robbie,” he whispers. “You know that, right?”

He’s been saying it a lot lately, throwing the words around like they’ll connect this time and get him something real. And they had, with Chrissy, with Robin, hell, even with Jeff. Just, not with Eddie. Maybe someday, he’ll learn to be okay with that.

“Love you, too, Dingus,” Robin replies, like it’s easy.

He falls asleep that night to the sound of Robin’s quiet snoring.

***

Eddie thinks about it—obsessively, compulsively. He dreams about it, jerks off about it, fucking cries about it. He reads the letters, again, and again, and again, wishing desperately that he still had that first one. At school, he checks his locker obsessively, compulsively, hoping there’s another note in his locker—there never is.

“Dude, what’s your problem?” Gareth asks, an elbow into Eddie’s side.

“Ow, ribs!” Eddie cries, curling away from him and into Doug at their usual lunch table.

“Sorry!” Gareth replies, leaning away from him and raising his hands up like that’ll somehow prove he’s harmless.

Jeff snorts around his sandwich, “gotta be careful, Gare-bear. He’s precious cargo now.”

“Oh fuck off,” Eddie replies, rolling his eyes as the rest of Hellfire laugh around him.

“No, but seriously, dude,” Gareth asks, this time without the thrown elbow. “What’s up with you?”

Eddie looks across the cafeteria at Steve and Chrissy’s usual spots, still empty the way they have been for weeks. He worries, sometimes, that they’re not eating, and it’s his fault.

Hopefully, they’re just packing lunches from home and eating somewhere else (he’s been too afraid to check).

“Can’t tell you buddy,” Eddie replies, still looking at the empty spot like that’ll somehow make the duo appear. “I promised.”

Gareth, clearly having followed his line of sight, leans closer and asks in an unsubtle whisper, “but it’s about you know what?”

Doug sits on, oblivious, but Jeff snorts again and asks, “okay, you didn’t tell me jack shit, but you told the freshman?”

“Sophomore, jackass!” Gareth cries, before seeming to realize the implications of Jeff’s sentence. “You told Jeff?”

“I knew before you did,” Jeff says smugly, and Eddie’s starting to get pissed off about that again.

“How!”

“Jeff, dearest?” Eddie grits out. “Do you want me to punch you in the face?”

That shuts the table up catastrophically. But in the end, Jeff sighs and says, “I’m coming over after school,” and the rest of lunch is spent fielding Gareth’s indignant questions.

True to his word, Jeff climbs into Eddie’s passenger seat at the end of the day. Eddie doesn’t take them to the trailer, he just drives around, taking back roads round and round, restlessness making his fingers twitch in the gear shift.

Jeff’s the one who breaks the silence, in the end. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” he says, making Eddie flinch at the sudden noise. “Steve just seemed so scared, and Chrissy was crying so—”

“He was scared?” Eddie interrupts, stuck on the thought. He’d known that, before, but now that Eddie’s afraid, too, it hits like a punch to the chest.

“Of course he was,” Eddie replies to his own question. Suddenly unable to focus, Eddie pulls over to the side of the road. “I’m scared, too.”

Jeff sucks in a breath; Eddie doesn’t look away from his own knees.

“Yeah?”

Eddie bites his lip, knowing that Jeff will be able to read between the lines. “Yeah.” His eyes are watering, and Eddie swipes at them, embarrassed. “And I know we’re supposed to be talking about us, but I just—”

“No, hey,” Jeff replies. Eddie hears the sound of his seatbelt unbuckling, and the rustle of him shifting in his seat, and suddenly, Jeff’s hand is clasping Eddie’s shoulder, shaking him around just a little. “You’re my best friend—we’re fine, dude.”

Eddie swipes at his eyes again, “I think I want to ask him out, but what if I’m wrong?” Eddie asks, tracking Jeff’s expression out of the corner of his eye. “I don’t want to hurt him again.”

“So, what?” Jeff asks, voice deadpan. “You find out he likes you and suddenly he’s not just a jock anymore?”

Eddie looks down at his own knees, bracing for a hit he knows will never come. But, Eddie’s always been good at hurting himself, so he thinks about that yellow nail polish again, the enraptured look in Steve’s eyes during every D&D session, the way he’d glued himself to Robin Buckley, band nerd supreme’s side in recent weeks. The way he’d look at Eddie like he wasn’t the king of the freaks, like he was worth something.

“He was never just a jock,” Eddie murmurs. “I just never let myself think about it.”

Jeff mmmhmms him and Eddie knows him well enough to hear the doubt beneath the agreement.

“I was afraid, okay?” Eddie laments, scrunching his eyes closed tight until that makes his bruised eye ache too much. “You wouldn’t get it.”

At that, Jeff scoffs, and before Eddie can start up another tirade, he replies, “right, the black guy dating a white girl in Po-dunk, Indiana has no idea how scary it can be to make a move on the person you like.”

Okay, fair.

“You know what could happen if the wrong person finds out?” Jeff continues. “I’ll be lucky if they let me get out of town alive.”

“Okay, okay! I get it, sorry!” Eddie cries, throwing his hands up in defeat. And Jeff, being the asshole he is, just laughs at his discomfort. “How’s that going anyway?”

“With Chrissy?” Jeff asks, continuing when Eddie nods. “She’s great, man. I really, really like her.”

He’s smiling all goofy and in love. Eddie waits for the jealousy to hit; it never comes. Even as he’d flirted with her, there’d always been a disconnect for him between the letters and the girl. He knows why, now.

“I’m happy for you.”

Jeff aims that same goofy smile at him and punches his shoulder. “Thanks, man.”

Eddie wants to feel that way about someone. He wants to think of them and smile like he just can’t help himself. And with Steve Harrington of all people, maybe he can.

“If I ask Steve out, do you think he’ll still say yes?”

“Oh, for sure,” Jeff replies without hesitation before he turns to Eddie and eyes him up and down. “But are you sure you want to?”

Eddie bites back the defensive retort rising on his tongue, and grits out, “what do you mean?”

Jeff sighs and leans back in his chair. Eddie waits, three seconds from snapping as he stews in Jeff’s silence, hands clenched so hard against the steering wheel that it feels like one of his nails might pop clean off. 

“Jeff–”

“No one’s ever liked you before!” Jeff cries, and it hits Eddie like a punch to the sternum. “And maybe it’s not fair of me to ask but, are you sure you even really like him?”

“What?” Eddie asks, his mind a record skipping against a bent needle. “What do you–”

“Eddie, man,” Jeff sighs, swiveling his head to finally look Eddie directly in the eyes. “Do you like Steve Harrington, or do you just like that he likes you?”

He drops the wheel, hands almost numb as he shakes them out, no longer able to meet Jeff’s eye. 

How would anyone ever know that for sure? How can he know the origin of a feeling when it’s been there, simmering in the background of his brain, just waiting for him to wake up? How can he separate the feeling for a person and the person’s feeling for them?

That’s like asking him to unbraid his hair, let it fall back together, and still be able to tell which strands made up each component of the braid–it can’t be done.

But, “Gareth said I was obsessed with him,” Eddie replies, barely above a whisper. “Like, before I knew he wrote the letters?”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Eddie laughs, but it’s just like Steve said–it sounds different when he doesn’t think it’s funny. “And, he was right, you know? I was flirting with Chrissy, but I couldn’t stop thinking about him.”

Eddie runs a shaking hand through his hair and buries his face into his hands with a shudder. “He’s just–he’s Steve Harrington, right? Everyone knows everything about him, but then he just changes the script!” Eddie’s smiling now, manic, animated. “And I wanted to know everything.”

Eddie drops his hands to look over at Jeff, meeting his eyes once more. Jeff looks patient, ready, hopeful in a way he hadn’t before, so Eddie keeps talking.

“Like, Chrissy was flirting with you and he didn’t even seem to care, and the yellow nail polish, and he came to Hellfire, Jeff. Steve Harrington came and watched us play Dungeons and Dragons.”

“I know,” Jeff replies, grinning now, pearly whites all on full display. 

“And when he came to band practice, he was just like, watching me, and I sort of wanted to die, but in a good way, you know?”

Jeff decidedly does not look like he knows, but he’s still grinning across at Eddie like he’s proud of him. Eddie’s kind of proud, too, that he’s managing to say all of this aloud. It feels somehow new and a long time coming at the same time. 

“Okay, you can ask him out,” Jeff says, turning forward in his seat and buckling his seatbelt once more. 

Eddie laughs. “Oh, because I needed your blessing?”

“Yeah,” Jeff replies, grinning as he turns back to Eddie, looking him up and down like he’s a slab of meat Jeff’s checking for its quality. “Maybe wait until you’re healed up, though. You look like one of those cardboard box kittens that I keep seeing on the news.”

“Shut up!” Eddie squawks, but he’s smiling, helplessly, hopefully.

Eddie Munson with a chance at love, who would’ve thought?

PART 18

[elumish]

Great questions!

For your first question, I think there are two parts to it:

First, in my opinion this is something that becomes more biphobic in aggregate than it necessarily is in isolation. Having a man who used to sleep with women and then decides he's gay isn't in itself biphobic, but having every man who goes down that path decide that they're gay instead of bi can start to become biphobic.

Second, and related to that first point, I think one of the other key things is whether bisexuality is presented as an option. For someone who has been attracted to women and is now attracted to men (or vice versa), bisexuality is probably the most obvious option. Never considering it (again, especially in aggregate across multiple instances) means that the author probably doesn't consider bisexuality a valid sexuality, or as valid as being gay or straight.

Your male character is absolutely allowed to realize that they hadn't actually been attracted to the women they used to sleep with (or vice versa for a female character) and that they were actually gay all along. People do that in real life. That's totally valid. But if the idea of bisexuality never even occurs to them, or this happens over and over and none of the characters are bi, it's going to start to feel biphobic to me.

For your second question, I think you can have any relationship fault that you would have in any other character, it just depends on how you write it.

For the cheating one, for example, I read a book where all of the gay characters were faithful, but the bi man cheated on his fiancee with a man--and the book framed it as being at least in part because of his bisexuality.

You can write a bi character who cheats on their spouse! But there's a difference between writing it as "this is a person cheating on their spouse" and "this is a bisexual person doing bisexual cheating because they're too bisexual to manage to be faithful to only a woman or only a man".

Similarly, with the promiscuity--it's not "never write a promiscuous bisexual character" but "don't consistently write your bisexual characters are more promiscuous than your other characters and implicitly or explicitly tie it to their bisexuality".

You don't need to water down your bi characters, just think about whether you're writing them that way because it fits the character or because you think bisexual people are just inherently like this, and think about whether you're falling into negative stereotypes about bisexual people.

I wish there was approximately 100% less biphobia in gay romance novels.

[moomine]

backwash III | daisuke

author's note: thank you to literally everyone who’s reading this! you guys are so so sweet and i love you all <3 if you want to be part of a taglist for future updates feel free to reply or dm me!! (cover image credit)

summary: (daisuke x f!reader) Sleep is increasingly hard to find on the Tulpar. At night the reader spends her time in the cockpit, thinking about home. When she feels the whim to sleep, she ventures back to the sleeping quarters, only to bump into Daisuke. Instead, she joins him for a midnight snack and some conversation in the lounge.

word count: 2,372

warnings: no trigger warnings! all characters are 18+

now playing: Dave Bixby - "Morning Sun"

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

EMPLOYEE STATEMENT 034—

There was this movie I watched once when I was a kid, about a little girl who falls from the sky. Although I can’t remember the title of it now. I do remember that she was a part of another world, a part of something bigger. She was important. I don’t think you have us write these to talk about movies, do you? I’m sure you’d rather hear about the operations on board, or the technical difficulties, or if there’s been any damage to the cargo. You know, the “important stuff”.  Everything is running smoothly so far. Is that good?

I want to be a part of something bigger one day. Hopefully this experience will help me. I’m grateful to have this opportunity.

DAY THIRTY-THREE—

Pony Express allowed a maximum of five hours of sleep to their employees on haul. During those five hours, the Tulpar was shadowed by a veil of utter stillness. A silence not too dissimilar to that of a library, or that painful pause in awkward conversation. It was too quiet, which led you to stare at the ceiling until the fatigue of work or boredom got the better of you. Even when you could fall asleep, it was far from restful. Over the past month you had gotten the worst sleep of your entire life thus far. Worse than when you lived in those co-ed dorms with unruly neighbors and argumentative hallways. Worse than those nights thunder cracked down from the darkened sky and you clutched stuffed animals in your chubby, child hands. After a certain point, you had given up on finding sleep at all.

The computer screens within the cockpit would beep on occasion, the sound barely audible over the soft plucking of guitar strings in your headphones. The coords of some old folk song filled your ears instead. You sat in the captain's chair, curling in on yourself with your knees to your chest and arms around your person. Your head snuggled into the dip in your legs, cheek pressed your knee cap as you stared at the sea of glowing green.

Curly had given you permission not too long ago to sit in the cockpit at night. Within the first month of your apprenticeship, you had grown on him quite a bit. The captain had always been a kindhearted person. He was a people pleaser to his core, a man simply happy to help. Curly saw a lot of himself in you, and he knew what it was like to feel, well, restless.

“As long as you promise not to touch anything,” he had said, prefacing his next words with a comforting smile, “you have my permission to use your clearance to the cockpit at night. But if word gets to the higher ups, they’ll have my head, understood? We wouldn’t want that, now would we?”

Normally, you tried to pay attention to how long you had been sitting there, keeping track of each song that played to count the minutes as they passed, but tonight you hadn’t. With a sigh, you reluctantly stood from Curly’s chair, deciding to give sleep another try. You slipped your Walkman into the pocket of your pajama pants and left the cockpit. Each step you took was quiet, almost imperceivable, as you walked down the hall toward the sleeping quarters. You didn’t want to disturb the others, although you had a feeling nobody else was sleeping all that well either. The rusted, trusty pipes groaned as you passed, their settling moans somehow bypassing the volume of your music. It made you feel uneasy. You reached into your pocket and turned the music up a bit in an attempt to drown out the sound. 

Rounding the corner, you finally reached the door to the sleeping quarters. Just as you reached for the door handle, it slid open seemingly on its own, causing you to flinch. Standing there—holding a flashlight in one hand and with the other placed against his chest—was Daisuke, looking far more caught off guard than you felt. You winced as he shined the light directly into your eyes.

“Holy shit, dude,” he breathed, voice dropped to a raspy whisper. “You straight up scared the hell out of me. What are you doing walking around in the dark?” Daisuke adjusted his aim and shot the beam at the ceiling instead, creating enough light for the two of you to see each other a little better.

With a soft laugh, you pulled your headphones from your ears, allowing them to hang around the back of your neck. “I’m sorry. Couldn’t sleep.”

“You too?” Daisuke questioned.

“I’m surprised anyone can sleep on this thing,” you whispered. “Where are you going?”

His eyes dropped in embarrassment as he used his free hand to rub nervous circles against the side of his neck. “I’m… I’m grabbing a snack from the lounge. You wanna come?”

“Yeah, if you want me to.” You didn’t hesitate. Anything sounded better than tossing and turning. You stepped to the side, permitting him enough space to walk out of the doorway then alongside you.

Daisuke breathed a chuckle at your response. “I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want you to.”

“Then I guess I’m coming,” you said in a hushed, playful tone.

Daisuke looked at you with a smile and nodded, shining his flashlight down the hall as the two of you began to walk in silence. In the quiet of the hall, the door to the lounge seemed to open with a deafening wheeze. Deep, royal blue illuminated the large room. The night-time window screen displayed a starry sky with wisp-like clouds, bathing the room with an otherworldly glow. It reminded you of going to the aquarium as a kid, surrounded by water and the smell of saltwater. You half expected to look up and see sharks and fish swimming overhead, but you knew all there would be was a dull, blank ceiling and slumbering lights.

Daisuke stuck his head through the doorway, peeking to see if anyone was already inside. When he determined that the coast was clear—although it wouldn’t have mattered anyway considering the noise of the door, he motioned for you to follow him inside.

“Hell yeah! The place is ours,” Daisuke celebrated, speaking louder once the door closed behind you two. He walked toward the vending machines with long, intentional strides. You tread on his heels, gaze fixed on him in amusement as he looked over the different options. 

You pulled your Walkman from your pocket, then leaned against the bar, palms pressed to the countertop as you pushed yourself up, and took a seat on the cool, brown laminate. “Is there normally someone else here?”

“Hmm?” He barely heard you, too fixated on what he was going to eat. As he processed what you had said, the words loading behind his eyes in a turning spiral, he ordered a pack of freeze-dried fruit and tore into the package. “Oh, nah. Not usually. I mean, I’ve seen Anya in here once or twice, but she’s always coming from medical bay. Getting coffee for those late nights, I guess.”

“She works too much,” you noted. “I wish she wouldn’t push herself like that.”

“You two seem close.” Daisuke approached, leaning against the counter beside you.

“Yeah. You could say that.” A tender smile graced your lips at the thought of you and Anya being close.

There was a pause, a brief lull in the otherwise newborn conversation. A series of crunches sounded from your right where Daisuke stood as he popped piece after piece into his mouth. You glanced over at him, the tenderness of your smile warping into something more entertained. He glanced over at you in turn, his mouth full of apple as he mustered a lopsided smile.

“Hey, it’s your Walkman,” he exclaimed after a swallow, pointing at the dated tech in your lap. “Whatcha listening to?”

“Oh,” you peeped with a suddenly flustered look on your face. “It’s a mix my mom made for me. Just a bunch of old folk stuff she used to play for me when I was little.”

“Can I listen?” he asked, shoving another piece of fruit in his mouth.

“S-Sure, yeah.” You unplugged your headphones and played the tape. It crackled, the old speaker not what it used to be. Or what it ever was, truthfully.

Maybe the quality of the sound would have bothered somebody else, but not Daisuke. As your small corner of the lounge filled with the sound of guitar—the stories of rural towns, first loves, and early mornings, Daisuke set his snack on the counter and listened intently. It was far from what he’d normally like, but something about listening to it here, with you made it sound perfect.

“It’s funny, actually. I never used to like this stuff back on Earth, but lately this is the only one I want to listen to,” you said over the music.

“You must really miss her.” Daisuke inched closer, standing less than a foot away from you as he leaned against the counter. His gaze flickered up to your face, quietly admiring the curves and arches of your profile. Under the blue light of the night time window screen, any blemish or imperfection on your face seemed to vanish. Not that he had ever noticed any imperfections on you. Matter of fact, for some reason, he couldn’t imagine seeing any part of you as imperfect. Even if he tried. There was a somber look in your expression as he spoke, one that made his stomach twist in knots.

“So much. I didn’t think it would be this hard being away from home.” Your voice was just above a whisper now. You felt your eyes begin to burn, the familiar sensation of tears welling in the corners as you tried to suppress the ebbing flow. With the shake of your head, you let out a quick laugh, feeling the tension gradually lifted from your shoulders. “What kind of music do you like?”

Daisuke didn’t blink or care about the change in discussion. He didn’t care about what the two of you talked about, and he wasn’t going to pry either. He knew that you would open when you felt comfortable enough to do so, and he was happy to wait however long that would take.

“A bit of everything, I guess. It kinda pisses me off when people say that and, like, they don’t actually mean it.” He slid his snack off of the bar and extended it to you, shaking it as the pieces inside rattled against each other. “I have a pretty impressive vinyl collection back home. Got everything from Etta James to Duster. You should see it sometime.”

Weakly, you smiled and took a piece of the fruit from the package. “Maybe when all of this is said and done. After the haul?”

“I’d love that,” Daisuke responded quickly, eyes trailing over your face. After another moment of silence, a brief break in conversation, he shifted on his heels and looked away. “So, you uh… you got anyone waiting for you back home? Y’know, like friends? A boyfriend? Or uh, a girlfriend? If you, like, swing that way or whatever. Which would be totally cool, obviously. I’ve got a bunch of gay friends-”

“Daisuke,” you said with a hint of that ever familiar amusement in your voice. “Relax, okay?”

He looked back at you and nodded. “Right, yeah… So, do you?”

“Friends? Yeah, a bunch. I miss them too. But a partner, not so much…” You felt your cheeks light up, a soft pink flush dusting the peaks of your cheekbones and the ridge of your nose.

“Hey, that’s cool,” he responded, bumping shoulders with you and trying not to sound too happy about your response. “Me neither. I mean, like I said, I’ve got loads of friends. Just not the whole girlfriend boyfriend thing.”

“Look at us,” you mused. “One in the same.”

“Yup, one in the same.” Daisuke glanced back at you hopefully, then looked away. He downed the rest of his dried fruit and crumpled up the package, tossing it in the direction of a nearby trashcan and missing by a couple feet. He winced, feeling a tinge of embarrassment as he rubbed the back of his neck.

“You gonna go get that?” you asked jokingly, pushed yourself from the countertop, and landed on your feet, securely tucking your Walkman back into your pocket as the music stopped.

“Yeah, yeah.” He rolled his eyes and walked toward the trash before picking it up and disposing of it properly. “It’s on the way out anyway. In fact, I meant to do that.”

You trailed after him, following close behind as the two of you approached the exit to the lounge. “Totally,” you teased, smiling up at him.

Yet again, the door slid open with that deafening screech as Daisuke and you left the lounge. Together, you walked back to the sleeping quarters. At the door, Daisuke turned to you and stopped. His brown eyes trailed over your features once more in the darkness, illuminated only by the light of the flashlight in his hands. Even in the blackness of the hallway, his smile was bright. His gap-toothed grin seemed almost bright enough to flood the entire hallway with light.

“Thanks for coming with me,” he spoke quietly.

“Thank you for inviting me,” you responded.

Daisuke opened his mouth as if to speak, but the words he wanted to say seemed caught in his throat. Instead, he just nodded and displayed that same smile. Your brows furrowed questioningly, an expression that made his heart skip a bit. Before you could say anything, he opened the door to the sleeping quarters and ushered you inside.

“Goodnight, [Name]. See ya in the morning.” He bit his lip, walking backward toward his room and nearly stumbling when he reached the door.

“Sweet dreams, Daisuke.” 

With that, you slipped into your room with a strange feeling in your chest. A tightness you hadn’t felt since high school, since hallway crushes and etching names into wooden picnic tables. An ache at the loss of his presence. How strange.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

pookies (taglist): @xcryptk33p3rx @freakyydaisukee @sanctuaryofsmartiess @st4rrysblog @academiq @c4t-n1pp @iiveraii

[daenysthedreamersblog]

SECRETS OF US - I

i knew it, i know you

it all changed for me and i told you

you had the wrong idea about me

masterlist

summary: you needed the fine arts credit to fill your schedule and finish out your junior year at university, but so did your sworn enemy coriolanus snow because of course he did.

warnings: swearing

paring: modern!coriolanus snow x reader

notes: omg so happy to have this out!! this story has been so fun to write!! i hope u enjoy!! it took me way too long to write this whole story out but its finally ready to have someone else enjoy it (hopefully)

You're staring forward with a blank expression on your face as your mother rambles into your ear through the phone. You chew your cuticle to avoid sighing or groaning at her, letting her into the obvious feelings of annoyance of the subject of her conversation; your father, your career, your school.

"Yes. Yes, Mom I know." You scoop up the iced coffee into your hands and make for the door. You shift your bag around shoving the phone further into shoulder as your other one pushed the door open. "I'll come visit for the holidays I promise." You lie turning around the glass door and smacking into a solid wall. Your coffee smashes to the floor and all over your feet, "I am so-Oh it's you." You glance down as your destroyed beverage, "I have to go." You hang up mid questions.

He glares at you, "Do you ever watch where you're going?"

"Do you?" You shove back inside to grab napkins to clean the coffee off of your ankles. You grab your now empty cup and toss it into the trash along with the wet napkins before pushing past him down the street. You don't even try to go and reorder too annoyed and needing distance from him of all people. "You owe me $6 for that coffee you made me spill."

"I made you spill." He catches up to you matching your stride easily with his long legs and you feel more annoyance settle into your stomach. "You ran into me!"

You don't even look over at him as you cross the street. "You should have held the door open for me like a gentleman."

He snorts, "You've known me our whole lives...when have I ever been a gentleman?"

"Maybe you could start." You take a left to head down another block your campus coming into sight. It had been three years since you had seen him, three peaceful years of never having to look at his aggravating face besides a rare sighting in the library, but what should have been a docile dislike still burned in a raging blaze of fury. You searched for maturity, for a sophisticated phrase to send him off, but he brought out the worst in you. "Don't you have somewhere else to be? Schemes to plot in an evil lair?"

"I actually am heading to class this way too." He chuckles. "Has anyone ever told you you are a ray of sunshine?"

You smile sarcastically, "I would be a lot nicer if I had my coffee."

"So dramatic." He shakes his head laughing at you. You stop, looking at his grinning face. Three years and time had treated him well which only infuriates you more. He was taller somehow, his hair shorter and trained straight instead of those adolescent curls you begrudgingly despised. There was slight bags under his eyes no doubt from the start of the semester changing his sleep habits because you were the same, even more reason to be upset over spilled coffee. He looked good, and it made you hate him even more.

You decide not to respond, but pick up your own pace to put distance between you and your sworn enemy, but he kept following. You knew he had classes in this building since you had the same classes given he decided to pick the same major as you, but when you take a right down the stairs you believe he's simply following you. "You're being creepy."

He points ahead of you, "I have class this way too... like I told you." Your stomach drops. No, no, no this can't be happening. You reel on him eyes narrowed in anger watching his smug face slowly drop in realization as well. "You've got to be kidding me."

"I needed the fine art credit."

He pinches the bridge of his nose, "So did I."

You slap you hands against your legs in exasperation because of course you had the same curriculum with the same required credits. "You simply always need to copy me."

"Could say the same about you." He pushes past you and into the classroom ahead. It wasn't just a classroom, it was a theater. You had chosen this for the credit on your transcript because it was different than anything else you have done, you had a chance to prove yourself in something new, be the main lead if you wanted; gain attention, notoriety, and an ever growing boost to your resume. You chose it because you knew you would excel and exceed where others could not simply based on who you were and how you treated everything academically in your life.

Okay maybe you also figured it would be a fairly easy pass.

And so had you old Academy rival Coriolanus Snow.

It wasn't horrible. He mostly sat on the opposite end of the room as you and you barely had to interact with each other those first few classes. It had consisted of generic information, a slow introduction to the world of pretending, nothing too intense that you knew was surely coming.

You had the same major, political science with a minor in business, but you had had freedom structuring when you took certain subjects, carefully crafting something that never put him a few desk away from you again, thankfully you both never had crossing seminars...besides this one.

You and Coriolanus Snow had a long history together. You had grown up together, not closely, and not anything of note, enough to be aware of each other, but this growing animosity didn't take root truly until you both attended Academy together. You can't always picture how it started in the depths of your mind, but it had been there for some reason. You see snippets of niceties but that always seemed like delusional daydreams of a world that never existed, never could exist. You had both wanted to be top of the class, always fighting for the number one position, teacher's favoritism, student body president, valedictorian... It gnawed at both of you eating away at any form of camaraderie to the point anyone who knew you, knew you hated each other.

You glared over at him as he wrote things down in his notebook. You knew he would be attending University with you, you wished he had been dumb enough to not be accepted, but nope he was here, sitting a few seats away from you again. And of course the asshole had to be gunning for you here just the same.

"Alright my lovely students." Mr. Flickerman clapped his hands. "Now that were a couple classes in I want to go over our huge project for the year." You sat up straight, this was your moment. "I have written a play that we will be performing, and I'll be holding auditions next week for different parts." He smiled glancing around the room, "The final show won't be until the end of the spring semester, and as we go through it we'll be going over different techniques of line delivery and stage directions and play writes...you get the point. Once we're done you won't be able to view a show without analyzing it."

The class flatly laughs.

You smile after he dismisses you heading down to the sign up sheet quickly. You wanted the lead, you needed the lead. You wanted him to be so impressed he makes a reporter come down here to add you to the paper. Okay that was silly. Mostly you wanted your father to come watch and maybe see your more than just his pawn, that maybe there was more to you than his perfect molding. You wanted Coriolanus to be some boring side part with no lines that no one would ever pay attention to. You scribble you name down on the part you want and take the script copies home to practice and then you're heading back home to your apartment with that ever growing fire under you.

You lose yourself in preparing for it you barely hear your phone ring until it goes off for the second time. "Tell me you're getting dick and that's why you're not answering."

"I wish Clem." You run your hand over your face. "No I'm studying up for something."

She groans, "You're so boring, come out with us tonight there's a new place in town that has really good espresso martinis."

"I can't." You sigh. "Maybe once I land this part."

"Wait." She chuckles. "Part? Is this for that theater class you wanted to take or does daddy have you off doing side quests again?"

You actually laugh as you set the script aside, "It's for a class, for a credit I need." You trace the words absentmindedly. "I figured it would be different...fun. Nice break between all the other boring shit I'm doing." You stare down at the lines of your future male counterpart, "You'll never guess who-!"

"Are you and Coriolanus Snow in the same fucking class...again?" She sounds shocked as if the possibility of running into him had always been small despite the agitation around it every coming semester.

You flop back onto the couch, "Yes ugh he's obsessed with ruining my life."

"Surprised the building hasn't combusted from your two inflated egos." Clemensia jokes.

"His is bigger than mine."

She laughs even louder. "I'm sure it is darling. Well, I got to run, our car is here but you'll have to tell me how it all goes next weekend over these martinis if they're actually any good."

"It's a date." You smile as the line cuts off plunging you into silence. You shove the script away and stand up going to your fridge grabbing out the bottle of wine and opening it to pour yourself a large glass. You sit back down on the couch, curling your feet under yourself as you scroll through social media.

You find yourself on his page seeing his stupid pictures with his stupid face doing stupid things as you sip on your wine. It wasn't fair that someone so annoying was so good looking, it also wasn't fair that he was aging like fine wine. You chuckle into your own wine. You keep scrolling and scrolling through his pictures more of your wine disappearing before you neared when he was back in Academy with you. You pause on one of him with a group of the other boys. He looked so young, with his longer blonde curling hair, and a little grin on his lips before the cruel world could steal the light from his eyes. You're trying to zoom in when your phone slightly slips the red heart appearing on your screen.

"Oh no." You quickly unlike the photo. "Shit, shit, shit." You close the app throwing your phone across the couch. Maybe he wouldn't see it. You drain your wine, your nerves buzzing.

Your phone vibrates.

"Are you stalking me?"

It spreads out across your bright screen that sends adrenaline coursing through your thumping heart. It's a direct message from him.

You stare at it for so long considering all your options. You could lie, say it was your friend, a pet you didn't have, maybe you were babysitting or hacked! You could just tell him you slipped but then he would know you were looking through his old photos.

You could just...never respond.

"I thought I blocked you." Is all you type back. He didn't need an explanation, or your time and beating heart, screw him.

"Clearly not if you're looking through my photos from years ago." He types back too quick, "Reminiscing on the good ole' days?"

You tap your fingers on the side of your phone, "You did look so innocent back then, how deceiving." You're on your feet going to the fridge for more wine to avoid the three little bubbles going off while he typed back.

"What are you doing right now besides looking at pictures of me?"

"What?"

"Can you read?"

"Yes, but why do you care."

"Call it boredom..."

"Drinking."

"What are you drinking?"

"The blood of my enemies."

He doesn't respond for a while, so long you think this little game is finished. But then your phone goes off again bringing a blush to your cheeks as you read his message, "You wish."

You never type back, you turn your phone off and go to bed.

You avoid messaging him again the rest of the weekend heading to class with your head down. You blames the alcohol for even letting you give him the time of day. You take your seat in your normal spot grabbing out your notebook as a coffee slides across your desk. You follow the hand holding it until you're staring into his blue eyes. "Figured it's better than the blood of your enemies." He says finally taking his hand off of it you glance at his name scribed out on the cup by the barista then back to him, "And I owed you one from last time." You scowl at him, "It's not poisoned."

You narrow your eyes at him venom dripping from your ever present emotional fangs, "Just because we had a little DM session doesn't mean we're friends."

He rolls his eyes, "Can't you just accept one act of kindness and move on."

"I don't trust your kindness." You cross your arms, "It's manipulative."

"At least I can fake kindness, you don't have a nice bone in your body."

You smirk, "Only to people I don't like."

He glares at you, "Then block me." He storms off.

"I did already!" You lie watching his back as he makes his way to the other side of the room. You trace the letters of his name.

You get the lead...obviously. The play was an original romantic tragedy that Flickerman had constructed, you were surprised by his lighthearted nature he was able to produce something so solemn, something that encompassed what you had always longed for within romantic entertainment; yearning and passion; everything your life lacked. It didn't matter as long as you did well with what you were given, and you would. You had to.

Clemensia had kept true to her word by taking you out for celebratory drinks, and as your drinks clink with your friends you can picture the applause you will receive after the performance, the smug smile on your face as Coriolanus lurks in the shadow of anonymity. "You always were into the dramatics." Arachne Crane watches you over the rim of her drink.

"Well now I can put that trait to good use." You laugh taking a drink.

"How romantic is it?" Clem ask with a mischievous gleam in her eye.

You shrug, "Nothing crazy just some kissing scenes."

Arachne swirls her drink, "Do you know your scene partner? Is he at least cute?"

You racked your brain trying to imagine the rest of the class, for some reason the only 'cute' person that showed up in your imagination was Coriolanus, and that didn't seem accurate because he wasn't cute, he was annoying. "No idea Arch." You sigh, eyes wandering out into the dim restaurant, but your phone vibrates in your purse.

You glance at your friends who are engrossed in their side conversation before tugging your phone gently out of your purse. You chew on the side of your finger smirking down at your phone reading the name pinging on your screen.

Then its being ripped out of your hands, "Who has you smiling-Coriolanus Snow!" Arachne's eyes widened in shock, "'I thought you blocked me.' That isn't even clever and why don't you have him blocked?"

"Yes, how did he ever get through those defenses." Clem chuckles. You had never blocked him during your time at the Academy, it had never seemed important at the time, and after the whole direct message debacle you had blocked him...for about a day.

You snatch your phone back, "I must have forgot and he's in the same class as me, probably just wants to ask about a test or something."

"I did. How did you figure out I unblocked you?"

"Curiosity killed the cat, also I'm smart."

"So I'm the cat or are you?"

"Wouldn't you like to know, kitten."

Your head spins, he's teasing...right? "Then what are you in this story?"

"Whatever you want me to be."

"Are you flirting with me Coriolanus Snow?"

"Do you want me to flirt with you...kitten?"

You know your face is flushed, why did he text you when you had been drinking and can't think straight. Why was he even talking to you? He wasn't flirting with you, he hated you and you hated him and that had always been the status quo you both enjoyed. This had to simply be banter to get into your head, to throw you off, he's always been personable, smoozing his way to the top, sarcastically nice towards you; this seemed different. "Gross." You had sent the puking emoji for good measure.

You watch the three bubbles for quite some time, you actually begin to feel bad you were on your phone but it dragged you in for some reason, making it incapable to look away, like a horrible car wreck happening in the palm of your hand.

Until finally his messaged popped up, "Congratulations on getting the part, looking forward to working with you." He had sent a kissing emoji next to it making your heart stop.

"He's my scene partner." You stare up at your friends all joy dripping out of you. "He got the lead part too." Because who else in that room would have been capable if not him.

Arachne nearly spits her drink out while Clemensia burst out laughing. "Oh that is perfect."

"Who knows." Arachne states condescendingly, "Maybe it will bring you two...closer." Which only brings laughter from both of them as you put your head in your hands. This was bad, bad news and you needed to end it before wreckage could ensue.

Once the week starts you go into class earlier than everyone to search out Mr. Flickerman. This had to be some mistake, or game he must be playing at to continue to ruin your life. "Professor." You breath. "I need to talk to you about the play."

He doesn't look up at you as he filters through papers, "What about?"

"Coriolanus can't be my scene partner."

Mr. Flickerman glances up at you. "Why not? I think you two will be wonderful, you both had the best auditions for your respective roles."

You close your eyes trying to phrase it nicely. "We have a long history and-!"

"Romantically?"

You cringe, "Gods no."

"Then what's the issue?"

You sigh. "We don't like each other and I'm worried that will...reflect in our performances."

Mr. Flickerman pinched the bridge of his nose. "Are you backing out then?"

"No." You stand up straighter, why would you ever give into him. "He should."

He laughed. "Good luck convincing him of that." But he saw the distressed look on your face and took a deep breath. "Look I suggest perhaps figuring your issues out, maybe this will be a bonding experience!" He nudged you with his shoulder, "Maybe it will heal old wounds."

You know you won't get anywhere, he's too caught up in making his play perfect for reviews and you didn't blame him. You turn around watching Coriolanus striding down the row of desk in all his wicked glory. "This is a new low for you Snow." You seethe at him. "I know you're only doing this to make me back out."

"Did you?" He smirked but for some reason its doesn't have the usual flair behind it.

You held you chin up. "No, and I won't be, but you will."

He leans down, closer to your face. "Is that a threat, kitten?" You feel the blush burning through your cheeks and he laughs at you. It's the first time he uses the pet name outside of your phone and you lose words. "Have fun trying though." He pushes past you towards his seat leaving you grid your teeth in frustration.

He was impossible, he was rude and narcissistic and-and you had to kiss him or else your pride would be in shambles. You wouldn't-couldn't back out or else you'd be viewed as a failure, a quitter.

You would have to kiss Coriolanus Snow.

endnotes: hope u all enjoyed this first chapter i had hopes the first chapter was longer but alas this is where we are at!! hoping you stick along for the ride!!

CHAPTER 2 coming 11/29

[sufferu]

Bravo to you for choosing not to let Rem be forgiven so easily. Honestly I've never been a big fan of Rem as a character, sometimes her endless pandering and obsession with subaru just really annoys me instead, and I've never understood people looking at her doing all that and then saying “Wow that's so hot I'm so jealous of Subaru!”

As for the ones who want her deeds to be easily forgiven by everyone, my personal guess is that they all only care about her body and the unheathy way she forces herself to act like the perfect waifu just for Subaru's sake, but subconsciously they can't stand the shit she did either, so they secretly want their favorite waifu to be a perfect being without flaws. But to me, isn't it essential to love a character and accept their flaws as well? They did wrong things, but there's no doubt THEY did them anyway, and that is part of what makes them who they are. Another thing is that forgiveness has to be earned, we're not cruel, coldhearted, or closeminded for not forgiving someone who hurts us. So I too agree with that anon who thinks WHDAA cast need to to beat some sense into Subaru on way too forgiving and tolerating the people who have hurt/killed him.

But now that you've decided to do that, beware of those rabid Rem stans coming after you and I'm worried that their harassment goes overboard and affects your personal life

I will say — I believe that Rem and Subaru’s canon dynamic is one of the most intriguing and multifaceted dynamics in the entire series. Their parallels regarding their insecurities and family members, their mutually codependent tendencies, the way they run the risk of becoming each other’s perfect enablers, the genuine sense of love and affection that runs parallel to the unintentional toxicity fostered within their relationship — it’s all really interesting stuff. In fact, exploring their dynamic through the lens of outsiders (including amnesiac!Rem) finally getting to peer under the hood is one of the main reasons I wanted to write a react fic at all.

As for why people like her — honestly, I think it’s kinda easy to guess? She’s a very cutely designed anime girl, she’s incredibly well-voiced, her insecurities are genuinely relatable, she’s got a super awesome oni power-up transformation, her morning star lends itself to some of the best choreographed action scenes in the series (or at least Season 1), she appeals to the whole “submissive maid” aesthetic that she knows Subaru finds attractive (and that also appeals to the target demographic of Re:Zero specifically, let’s be real here) — and frankly, there are so many scenes in anime where characters we’re supposed to like do fucked up shit that it’s not difficult to just…gloss over the whole “tortured the mc for several hours” part of her character. It’s understandable, especially if you’re not an insane person who spends all their time hyperanalyzing the anime they’re a fan of like I am. I don’t think it’s really that far of a leap for her to develop such a massive following, she was basically designed to be as popular an anime waifu as physically possible.

But then, that clash can become…a little uncomfortable if you’re writing a story where “Rem tortures Subaru” is a major plotpoint, and if you don’t want to reevaluate their entire relationship, it makes sense to find a way to just — get the characters to move along, much like a lot of the irl audience does.

But I really like toxic characters and angst and complicated relationships and all that fun stuff, so that’s what I’m gonna focus on. —Also Rem is WORSE in the LN. Girl starts fantasizing about whisking Subaru away while he’s practically comatose from shock (second Arc 3 loop) and then also makes a comment like “even if he had tried to assault her in her sleep, she knew she never would have resisted” like GIRL??? The idea of not tapping that insane well of potential drama is ludicrous to me lmaoo— especially because I really don’t care about maintaining the status quo ;)

(Also frankly, anyone who would start seriously harassing me over whether or not I share their opinion about a fucking anime girl is too pathetic for me to care about. I honestly don’t think I’ll get that big of a response — especially not on Tumblr “Gay Website” Dot Com — but even if I do…I don’t care, lmao.)

[pfhwrittes]

the aftermath.

rating: mature audiences.

pairing: john "soap" mactavish x simon "ghost" riley.

word count: 1.8k

notable tags / warnings: transgender john "soap" mactavish, fluff, humour, very light angst, references to offscreen sex, egregious use of scots, banter, swearing.

A/N: i wrote this instead of sleeping, it was meant to be the set up for another part of my trans!soap drabbles but it took a wild left turn into feelsville and so no actual smut occurs in this fic. however, it is funny and fluffy (in my opinion). as always this can be considered to be very lightly edited so typos and weird grammatical goofs are likely to remain so for that i apologise.

–––

unsurprisingly, it’s kyle that catches on and confronts him the following afternoon as johnny pushes some truly god awful looking peas around his tray in the mess. 

“so, who’d you fuck last night then mate?” 

kyle plunks himself into the seat opposite johnny, dropping his tray with a clatter. the shepherd’s pie on his tray sags slightly and johnny feels a disarming bolt of empathy for the oozing mince and potato blob. sue him, he’s still feeling a little tender in places, alright? not that he’ll be admitting that to garrick of all people. 

“dunno what you’re oan about pal.” johnny sniffs and pokes a particularly dehydrated pea with his fork. there we go, nice and breezy. no need to give the game away son. 

kyle scoffs and aims a kick at johnny’s shin under the table. 

“oi! ya fuckin’ roaster, the fuck wis that for!” 

“i know you fucked someone last night. price was complaining about the stink in his office this morning.” kyle points his fork at johnny’s chest accusingly.

well, shit. johnny knew he should’ve got simon to crack the window before he got fucked seven ways from sunday. again, not that garrick needed to know that particular practical tid-bit of organising a secret rendez-vouz with your superior officer. 

johnny clears his throat nonchalantly and picks the spot over kyle’s left ear to address. 

“who’s to say it wasnae the captain gettin’ some last night?” 

the look kyle directs at johnny could probably be used to store clean cut finnish ice directly from fucking lapland with how freezing it is. 

“because he was with me, you tosspot.” 

johnny can’t help the way his face slips from carefully blank neutrality into something a wee bit more salacious. 

“oh aye, is that right?” johnny abandons looking at kyle’s ear to shoot him the dirtiest smirk he can muster. 

“fuck off mactavish.” kyle scowls, “you know what i meant. he was watching the bloody footie with me.”

“is that what you kids are callin’ it these days, eh?” johnny waggles his eyebrows knowingly just to watch kyle glare even harder as he leans forwards to stab johnny in the chest with his fork. 

“hey! mind the nipples, they’re fuckin’ custom! i spent money on these things!” johnny pouts and rubs gingerly at his top, pulling a face as he smears mashed potato into the fabric. gross garrick. 

“shut up, you got ‘em on the NHS like everyone else, you dickhead.” kyle shoots back.

what was sure to be a brilliantly witty retort gets silenced as price appears from nowhere, glowering down at his two sergeants like he’s just found two of his wayward puppies rolling in something long dead and incredibly pungent. 

“mactavish. a word.” 

johnny gulps and shoots kyle a betrayed look as soon as price’s back is turned. 

“oh sorry mate. must’ve slipped my mind. captain’s looking for you.” kyle grins, looking for all the world like butter wouldn’t melt in that clever wee mouth of his. 

bastard. 

––

johnny does not fidget. not even once. he’s cool, he’s calm, he’s co-

“it was reported that you were seen leaving this office - my office - at 0300 hours this morning, sergeant.” price rumbles from behind the - his - desk. 

-mpletely and utterly fucked. 

and not in the way he was only twelve hours previous. in this very room. over that very same desk. steamin’ jesus. 

johnny pointedly does not meet price’s gaze, instead he continues staring at the cinderblock behind his captain’s shoulder like it contains the secrets of the universe. or perhaps a false brick that when nudged just right would open a portal to hell under his feet. 

the chair under price’s bulk creaks as he settles back, watching for any sign of guilt or admission. the cigar propped on the edge of the cut glass ashtray sends a smoky tendril into the air as it drifts lazily to the window that johnny can see is cracked open a fraction in his peripheral vision. 

“nothing to say, sergeant?” price’s voice is deceptively soft and a shudder runs up johnny’s spine unbidden. fuuuuuuck. the way he sees it, he’s either fucked once if he admits to being somewhere he very much shouldn’t have been with company he definitely shouldn’t have been fraternising with, or fucked twice if he tries to deny it without knowing all the facts. he is, as the big bastard himself would say, in a spot tighter than a nun’s cunt. 

johnny swallows drily, preparing to take possibly the stupidest risk of his career and possibly his life so far, when a solid knock on the closed door saves him. thank christ. his heart soars - 

“enter.” price commands. 

almost immediately the hulking figure and current cause of johnny’s predicament steps through the door near silently to stand shoulder to shoulder with johnny. just a hair too close to be considered professional.

“lieutenant riley, good of you to join us.” 

- and promptly falls out his arse. 

good to know that there was a third and far worse option available to him. 

––

centuries or possibly even aeons later, a knock rouses johnny from the light doze he’d slipped into immediately after clambering into the tiny twin bed provided in his room. sent away from price’s office in disgrace, the sounds of his shouting still ringing in his ears. but even worse, the way that simon - ghost - simon had refused to even look at johnny before he turned on his heel and stalked down the corridor. away from him.

“nngh.” johnny grunts intelligently and swipes a slightly tacky palm over his face before letting it drop to brush against the worn carpet tiles. fuck getting up to let price in here to yell at him some more, or to deal with gaz’s kicked puppy look. he’ll stay exactly where he is ta very much, despite the way a spring in the lumpy mattress is poking into his right kidney something fierce. and the fact that now he’s awake he could do with a drink to rinse away the gummy feeling in his mouth. eurgh. 

the knock sounds again. 

“fer fucks sake, come in then ya -” johnny calls out grumpily, lifting his head from the pillow and his eyes flying open so he can glare at the door from his supine position.

and once again, simon “here to make shit worse for him specifically” riley steps through the door.

“- prick.” johnny finishes weakly. oh. well this is awkward. 

simon hums quietly in agreement and quietly shuts the door with his foot. johnny blinks, not entirely sure if he’s agreeing with being called a prick or if the situation is awkward. 

“bit o’ both really.” simon rumbles. ah, right yeah. johnny’s always had a habit of saying the first few thoughts that pop into his head immediately after being woken up. always makes one night stands a bit awkward in the mornings. 

“hm. is that the reason you’ve never let me stay the night then?” simon asks as he drops heavily into the tactically acquired chair in the corner of the room paying no mind to the fact he’s sitting on johnny’s freshly laundered skivvies. 

“somethin’ like that, aye.” johnny swallows awkwardly, christ he needs a drink of water, “that an’ i thought we’d get -” 

“caught.” simon finishes tiredly. 

johnny huffs out a sound that if he was being charitable could be considered a laugh under the right circumstances. this isn’t the right circumstances. obviously.  

“aye. yeah. that an’ all.” 

a silence stretches between the two of them then. it’s uncomfortable to say the least, aching in a similar way to johnny’s neck as he continues to peer at simon, who is sagging like a half-empty rucksack. johnny lets his head drop back onto the flat pillow underneath him so he can gaze sightlessly up at the water stained ceiling tile. what a fuckin’ mess. 

“‘m sorry.” 

it’s said so quietly johnny could half believe he imagined it. 

“‘s not yer fault, don’t worry about it.” johnny says flatly to the water mark on the ceiling. he closes one eye and squints, hm. looks a bit like a pair of knickers like that. johnny hears simon take a steadying breath from across the space. oh. johnny opens both eyes and lifts his head, his expression carefully blank. 

simon is hunched over now, his elbows resting on his thick thighs and he’s staring fixedly at the carpet just in front of his boots, purposefully avoiding johnny’s eyes. 

“simon?” it’s a gentle nudge but johnny watches as simon’s broad shoulders tense up, his biceps flexing as he fidgets with his clasped hands. oh. that’s more of an admission of guilt or responsibility than anything simon could say. johnny knows this man, inside and out at this point. he’s economical with movement in a way that can only ever be learned through being completely aware of your size and surroundings. never a fidgeter. always still. always controlled. 

“‘m sorry.” simon repeats quietly, allowing his head to hang down and exposing the soft nape of his neck where his balaclava gapes away from his shirt. in better circumstances johnny would get up and chance a kiss on his exposed skin just to hear him make a soft pleased noise that always reminds johnny of a cat purring out a raspy mrrr of contentment.

“did ye go to price an’ tell him then?” johnny asks levelly despite the way his heart has suddenly decided to reside in his large intestine again for the second time today.

simon’s head jerks up and he frowns. 

“no - i - no.” simon states firmly and johnny takes a shuddering breath. good. 

“good.” he says out loud. “i didnae think ye would.” johnny tacks on just to watch some of the tension in simon’s shoulders leak away. the urge to comfort simon wells up behind johnny’s ribs, it’s a tender thing and it makes johnny’s breath hitch a little unsteadily. he sighs dramatically to cover it and flops his head back onto the pillow again. 

“c’mon then, get over here ya big bastard.” johnny orders faux-peevishly. 

“what.” 

johnny groans and rolls his eyes. simon can be unbelievably dense when it comes to intimacy that doesn’t involve being bent over the nearest suitable surface sometimes. 

“‘mon then, i want a cuddle before price decides to split us up for the rest of our careers.” johnny raises his arms and makes a grabbing motion much like a wee toddler would to demand being picked up. johnny tries not to be insulted when that seems to be the reason that simon hefts himself to his feet to stand awkwardly at the side of the bed. 

“‘m not gonna fit.” he states and johnny rolls his eyes again. 

“sure ye will, just don’t squash my tits, alright?”

there’s a pause before simon states in his usual blunt manner - 

“how th’ fuck am i meant to do that, you ‘ad ‘em chopped off at eighteen.” 

and for some reason that makes johnny burst into relieved laughter. 

aye, they’ll be alright.

[tearsonmarz]

Scarian Flirting and Fishing pt. 1

“Are you alright?” Raising his head Grian looked up to see a guy with brown hair and muddy green eyes examining at him.

“I’m fine.” He brushed off, going through the items he had acquired in the past hour. “Where did a put that flint and— ah!” Muttering to himself- trying to not pay any mind to the weird guy watching over him- he lit a fire and began to prepare his lunch.

“You don’t exactly seem fine.” Grian shot a look at him before rolling his eyes and going back to his cooking. The brunette cleared his throat before walking towards him.

“What are you doing?”

“Your logs seemed a little out of place. Wouldn’t want to burn yourself now, would you?”

“It’s fine, I can take care of myself. Why don’t you just mind your own business.” He scoffed, fixing the logs himself and shooing away the stranger.

“I’d love to, but sadly I’m cursed with wanting to help people. Especially wanderers who can take care of themselves.” The stranger shot Grian a wink to his disgust.

Deciding to ignore the man, he put is food to cook before going back to looking through his haul. Name tags, saddles, boots, bottles, fish, junk, junk and more junk. Nothing of interest and certainly not what he was hoping to find. After roaming the stream for an hour you’d think he’d find something of note, but nope! Just more trash he’d have to toss out once it had accumulated enough to be dragged instead of carried.

“So... what are you hoping to find.” A yelp came out of Grian, he stared daggers into the man hovering over him.

“What is wrong with you? Can’t you just leave me alone?”

“Sorry, you just seemed so lost in thought, you didn’t even realize your food was finished.” The stranger chuckled to himself as red painted Grian’s ears.

“You could’ve just said so.” He pouted, earning a grin from the man.

“Does this mean I can stick around?”

“I’d like it if you didn’t, but I have a sneaking suspicion that you won’t listen.”

“Ah, you already know me so well. I can already tell we’re going to get along.” Without another word, he went to sit down next to Grian. “I’m Scar by the way. What’s your name?”

“Grian” He spoke in between bites.

“That’s a bit of an odd name. It’s suits you.”

There was something about this guy that Grian couldn’t quite put his finger on. He didn’t know him, but every fiber of his being was telling him this man was going to cause him quite a bit of trouble. Then again, anyone who tried to openly flirt with the first person they see, is bound to bring trouble wherever they go.

“Now that we’re acquainted, do you mind telling me what you’re looking for?” Grian slowed his chewing, pausing to think about whether or not to tell him. They had just met afterall, there was really no point in telling him. It’s not like this guy was going to stick around for very long.

“Uhm… It’s a little personal—”

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean to pry. But I guess that’s what I get for being a little nosy.” Scar laughed it off. Even though it felt like he had messed up, Grian did appreciate him backing off.

“Well, I will say, it’s just a book. Nothing too special. Just something that I need.” This much should be fine right?

“A bit odd, but I guess it’s fitting.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing, I just... You seem a bit unusual? Not in a bad way! Just out of the ordinary. I don’t know what I’m saying half of the time, so don’t mind me.” Shaking his head, he drew himself forward. “I didn’t mean anything of it. I just wasn’t expecting that.”

Without another word, Grian packed away his things and grabbed his fishing rod. Returning to the river, he sighed hoping for something different to be caught on his line.

“Was that sigh for me or for you?”

“Me. Do you just never make any noise when you move?”

“I’m quick, and fast like a cat. Of course, I’m not going to make any noise—” He stumbled as Grian turned to him.

“Obviously not as graceful.” Grian smirked, “You might do with a couple of dancing lessons.”

“Oh, I don’t dance. That is unless you want to teach me?”

“You couldn’t pay me enough.” He reeled in his line after feeling a bite, already knowing it was just another fish.

“I’d think I’m better company than all these fish you’re catching.”

“At least they’re quieter than you are.”

“Ouch, sick of me already? It’s hardly been any time at all.”

“Feels like forever.” Grian whispered underneath his breath before casting his line again.

“Already talking about our future? You must be a man after my heart.”

Part Two

[to-indeed-be-a-godd]

La Vie en rose

Neil sighed his head beginning to hurt from studying the words against the script, he had practically all his lines memorized except for the few spoken in french, specifically when his character was meant to hold an entire conversation in the language.

“je…sais..que-que je-“

he groaned unable to pronounce the words taking a deep breath and repeating them.

“je sais …que je t'aime..” He said the words finally able to pronounce them as the familiar blond walked into their room raising an eyebrow surprised.

“You speak french?” Todd asked shyly setting his things down on the bed as Neil sighed toss the script back on his bed.

“I wish, i have to say things in french for this play i’m doing” the blond made a small o shape with his mouth before taking the book from his desk and playing his walkman as he read, his face focused as a stray piece of hair dangled over his eyes, Neil’s fingers burned to tuck the stray strand of hair behind the others ear but held back still reciting the words over and over.

“je sais que je t'aime”

Eventually it began rolling off his tongue a bit however his accent was anything but believable as he sighed his headache getting worse each time he repeated his he phrase till finally his roommate set down his book and stood up.

“You aren’t saying it correctly.” He said bluntly looking at Neil before holding his hand out for Neil to give him the script which he handed over.

Todd read it carefully, “je sais que je t'aime, n'est-ce pas suffisant?” the words rolled off his tongue leaving Neil in a state of shock and completely flustered, as if this boy couldn’t get anymore perfect.

“i’m sorry…you speak french?!” He stumbled over his words looking at Todd a mix of excitement and shock.

“I learned a bit growing up…” He replied sheepishly handing Neil back the script.

“wait wait so how do you say it?” Neil asked because he needed to know how to pronounce the words and not because his roommate speaking french was the most beautiful thing he’d ever heard.

“je sais..” he said waiting for Neil to repeat after him the two following along with the other through each word.

“je sais que je t'aime, n'est-ce pas suffisant” Todd said again and Neil repeated in a good enough way that Todd gave him a proud smile.

“What does it mean anyways?” Neil asked curiously noticing the slight blush against the others features, god this boy had Neil’s heart doing backflips every second.

“Oh..I know i love you…isn’t that enough?” He mumbled sitting back down against his bed as Neil thought for a second.

“so i love you is?” he asked knowing how dangerous this game he was playing was but so desperate to hear the words come from the others mouth.

“Je vous aime” Todd said softly his eyes meeting Neil’s and oh god Neil’s heart might have stopped.

“je vos-“ he tried to say it knowing he was butchering the pronunciation.

“Je vous aime” The blond repeated slower as Neil stepped closer as they both fell into a rhythm of Todd repeating the words as Neil stepped closer trying to mimic it until Neil was practically standing between Todd’s legs neither breaking eye contact.

“Je vous aime” Todd’s voice was so small practically a whisper that made Neil’s heart sing, there was little Neil loved more then acting but for Todd, Neil would give the world for Todd, he’d give anything to hear him utter those words once more.

“puis-je t'embrasser?” Neil had no clue what he had said all he knew it sounded like a question and all he could do was silently nod before he felt soft lips press against his.

It was sweet and soft but desperate and affectionate, like both of them had been wishing for this for an eternity.

Neil was kissing the most beautiful boy he had ever met, and who apparently spoke french.

[hailsatanacab]

For the prompt ask game!

9. Sleep deprivation and/or 37. Secret Relationship and/or 40. Identity reveal/major secret reveal

(I selected a few so you can chose the one that resonates the most.)

For any DPxDC characters. <3

*emerges from a google docs, covered in blood and panting* i did it... it is done.

thank you for the prompt!! because i love a challenge, or because i can't stop myself, i went and did all of them!! for everyone!! everyone is sleep deprived and everyone is revealing secrets ^^'

Danny/Tim, mentioned Jazz/Jason

(๑•́ ₃ •̀๑) enjoy!! prompt ask game

kid napping

“Red Robin, sound off. Status?”

“All good here, Oracle. Everything okay?”

It’s been a slow night, never a good sign. Pent up energy itches under his skin and he stretches when he stands, preparing for whatever Oracle is going to throw his way. It’s going to be something, he can tell.

“Good.” Relief briefly colours her voice answers, before she becomes serious again, keys clacking away in the background. “There’s been a report from Agent A. It appears that one Timothy Drake has been kidnapped and is being ransomed for five million dollars and a helicopter. I’m tracing the call now.”

“A helicopter, too? Kidnappers these days, used to be they just wanted their money and that would be the end of it… a fucking helicopter, wow.” Red Hood scoffs, and Red Robin can’t help but join in the laughter over the comms.

“Doesn’t exactly sound like these are the brightest tools in the shed now, does it, Hood? Wonder what poor schmuck they’ve got instead.” Nightwing says, slightly out of breath. 

The smile slips off Red Robin’s face and clammy, cold dread shivers down his spine. A stone settles in his stomach. He wets his lips and clears his throat. “Oracle, can you pull up the CCTV on my apartment near WE? Any closer to tracing the call?”

“Still on the trace, they’re using a jammer. Agent A is cooperating so they should phone back soon, which will help.” she reports, falling into silence as he finds the video feed.

“You know who it is?”

“I hope not.”

It’s tense, he taps his feet on the rooftop, fingers tightening over his grapple as he fights the urge to fly off the roof and check for himself. It better not be him. Please, dear God, don’t let it not be him.

“What are you thinking, Red Robin?” Batman growls through the comms. Red Robin can hear the wind under his words, whipping fast as he no doubt makes his way over to his position.

“I had a, uh, a friend coming over tonight. From behind, he… he could be mistaken for Tim Drake.”

The jokes fall silent, the comms growing serious as they pick up on his tone.

“Well, fuck.” 

“Eloquent as always, Hood.”

“Shut up, bat-brat.”

“You were right, Red Robin, it looks like it was your… friend they caught, instead. About two hours before the call came in. I’m following their van now, I should have the destination soon. In the meantime, it looks like they’re heading towards the docks.”

Red Robin throws himself off the building, shooting his grapple as low as he dares to get the fastest swing he can. 

They have Danny. 

Worry gnaws at his gut even as gravity pulls it into his throat with another swing.

Danny is… And Red Robin means this in the nicest way possible, but Danny is fragile. They haven’t talked about it, but RR knows that Danny has health problems. Something plaguing him since he was young, that’s landed him in the hospital more than once. A weak heart, far too slow to be normal, possibly chronic fatigue—he’s always so tired, falling asleep anywhere he can.

Sometimes, he doesn’t even need to put his head down. Once, when they had gone to the corner store to get some popcorn to enjoy their movie (which Danny had explicitly and repeatedly promised he wouldn’t snore through this time), Danny had rested his head on Tim’s shoulder while they were waiting and he’d just… gone. On his feet, asleep, just like that.

He’d laughed, when Tim woke him up. Apologised. Said Tim made him feel safe enough to fall asleep just about anywhere and—

Red Robin grits his teeth and corrects his course as Oracle updates them with more precise coordinates.

Tim had carried him home that night, piggy-back for four blocks, but by the end of it, he wasn’t tired at all. And that’s another thing, Danny’s just so light. It’s concerning.

They never did watch that movie, but it’s a night that Tim can’t help remembering fondly all the same. They’d ended up rewatching some old sitcom that Danny’s seen countless times but Tim’s never really bothered with, Danny drifting off to sleep again and Tim eventually following him, because… sleep is easy with Danny.

It’s the same for him, he thinks. He can’t explain it, but he feels safe enough to sleep with Danny, too.

He needs to be alright.

“So… Is this friend just a friend? Or a friend friend?” 

“A friend, Nightwing. Now hurry up.”

He’s not in the mood to play these games, not now. There’s a reason why none of them know about Danny, and this is one of them. His family, as much as he loves them, are just too damn nosey for their own good.

“You know that doesn’t answer my question at all.”

“Then why don’t you ask something intelligible, rather than continue with your childish antics?” Robin snarks, and for once, Red Robin has to agree with him. Or, rather, he’s grateful for the distraction that it gives him.

Tim has secrets. He’s sure that Danny does, too, and so far—aside from the standard background check he always runs on new friends and friend friends alike—he’s done very well to respect them. He just can’t say that his family would do the same.

They can be overwhelming, to say the least, and Tim has tried his best to protect Danny from that.

Only to fail to protect him in every other way that it counts.

“How long have you guys been ‘friends’?”

“Nightwing, save it, please.”

“What’s his name?”

He ignores him.

Red Robin lands on the building first, thank goodness. He wastes no time in finding a skylight that can be pried open fairly quietly, slipping inside without a second thought.

“Wait for backup, Red Robin, that is an order!” Batman says, when he lets them know he’s in.

“Negative, Batman. I’m getting him back.”

“Red Robin!”

He weaves silently through the desks on the second floor of the warehouse, always moving, always keeping a trained eye on the shadows around him.

When he reaches the stairs, he hears voices.

“Looks like three of them, armed. The-the hostage is tied to a chair in the middle of the room, he…” Red Robin takes a steadying breath. The person has a burlap sack over their head is slumped to the side, from where he is, Red Robin can’t see if his chest is moving. There’s blood on the floor. “He needs medical assistance. Another two on the northside entrance.”

The comms explode in admonitions, everyone pleading with him to stay where he is, to wait for help, but fuck that. With a tap, he switches them off and he can finally, just about make out the words of the kidnappers as he creeps down the first few steps.

“—shouldn’t he have woken up by now?”

“I don’t know, man, you’re the one that hit him! Do you think he’s—”

“No! I didn’t even hit him that hard, I swear!” the man cries, holding his hands up in surrender. “I just couldn’t take any more of his stupid jokes!”

If there was any doubt in Red Robin’s mind that they picked up Danny by mistake, it’s gone now. Yeah. If you get Danny, you get his stupid jokes, too.

He creeps closer. 

There’s some storage crates between him and Danny, if he can get behind there without being seen then that leaves him in a good position for when whoever’s next in takes out the guys at the front. He can’t do anything without them gone first, not without risking them taking shots inside and endangering Danny.

The man that hit Danny circles round behind him and grabs at his hands.

“What are you even doing, Pat? Who gives a shit, leave him alone.”

“I’m just checking! I just gotta see!”

“Fuck’s sake, guys, who cares? We just gotta get our money, that’s it—”

“And our helicopter!”

“And our—”

“Shit, I can’t find a pulse! Shit, Frank, I killed him, I—”

Jason told him once that when the Pits overtook him, he used to see green. Instead of blacking out, he’d be swimming in that putrid Lazarus colour and he’d slip into that rage and bad things would happen.

He’s heard of people seeing red, too, but really, he thinks that’s more of a literary device.

Tim doesn’t see anything aside from his targets.

A barrage of birdarangs take the guns from the guys at the front, the three around Danny startling badly enough that the guy that kil—that’s behind Danny—stumbles, losing his footing.

Only one of them shoots.

Amateurs. 

There’s a round of curses on the comms as the shots come through. Oracle must have turned them back on.

“Fucking hell—Nightwing and I are at the front, Red Robin, don’t worry about them.”

Red Robin’s barely listening.

He spins, kicking the largest guy in the stomach hard enough so that he doubles over, wheezing. Following through the movement, another kick lands on the side of his head and he’s down. 

The second one, Frank, gets his wits about him and raises his gun, spraying wildly. He’s a shit shot, going wide in panic, and Red Robin simply ducks and rushes forward, keeping low. Tackling the guy, he grabs the gun off of him and uses it to smash him across the face, once, twice, three times, before he stops moving.

“Oracle, get police and paramedics on scene, now.” Batman says, the displeasure in his voice evident. “Red Robin, Robin and I are coming in from the top.”

Pat hasn’t even made it up off the floor yet, scrambling backwards, fear plain on his face. 

Red Robin stands, breathing heavily, gun still in hand.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I swear I didn’t mean to do it! Please—please, don’t, please!”

Red Robin doesn’t kill.

Well, no, Red Robin doesn’t normally kill.

No, that’s not quite right, either.

Red Robin has killed. Red Robin will more than likely kill again. Red Robin sees no problem with killing.

The gun is up, pointing towards the guy without any real thought about it.

Footsteps rush behind him, the familiar heavy footfalls of Batman and Robin, so he doesn’t bother turning around. The gun follows the guy as he keeps pulling himself backwards, snot and tears mingling down his face.

“Red Robin,” Batman says, softly.

It’s always weird hearing Batman’s voice like that. It’s not the first time, obviously—Batman can’t use his scary intimidating voice on victims or children, after all—but having it used on him is weird. 

“Breathe.”

“He’s dead. They killed him.”

If hearing Batman’s voice was weird, Red Robin can’t even recognise his own.

Distantly, he realises he’s dissociating. There’s a tightness in his chest, it’s hard to breathe, a growing buzz drowns out any noise in his ears and he can’t think, he can’t—

A heavy hand squeezes his shoulder, jolting him out of his thoughts. Batman reaches around and gently removes the gun from his grip, and Tim feels the instant loss of it. He should have done it, why hadn’t he done it?

Robin takes care of the last man, his crying cut off by a swift kick to the head. Nightwing and Red Hood join them, zip-tying the men on the floor and starting to drag them back to the entrance of the warehouse one by one.

No one says a word.

Shrugging off Batman’s hand, Tim moves towards the chair.

Shaking, he takes a deep breath and removes the sack. The small part of him that was left hoping it wasn’t him, it couldn’t be him, please dear God let it not be him, shatters.

Even dead, he looks peaceful.

Tim’s seen death. He’s no stranger to it, he’s seen what it can do to a person. There’s some blood coagulating over his eyebrows, but otherwise, he looks peaceful. Is that comforting? That he didn’t suffer?

Danny’s head lolls to the side as the sack comes completely away, his hair flopping over his eyes. Tim’s been on at him to get a haircut lately, he thinks it’ll be nice tidied up a bit, just on the sides. It’ll get rid of that permanent bedhead. Help him with job interviews, he’s got to be thinking about that now that he’s in his last year of college.

It’s about the only thing that’ll hold him back, Tim thinks. Danny’s brilliant. Any employer would be a fool to turn him down because of his shaggy hair, but employers are stupid so it makes sense to put your best foot forward and—

Tim falls to his knees.

Fuck.

He’s dead, he’s really—Danny’s skin is horribly pale, cold to the touch. Gone is his bright, cheerful smile. 

“Danny, I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry, I—” 

He stops himself with a deep, shuddering breath. He can’t break down here, he can’t, he can’t, he can’t.

Instead, he tips forward to rest his head in Danny’s lap, arms curling around himself. They were too late. They got here as fast as they could and they were too late.

 “Danny, I’m so sorry…” he whispers. “I… I love you, I love you, I’m sorry.”

Dimly, he can feel the others standing around them. Someone crouches down beside him, resting a comforting arm over his back, but he doesn’t turn his head to see who it is. He squeezes his grip on Danny’s legs tighter.

“Come on, baby bird. Let’s—”

They’re interrupted by a huge, honking snore as Danny jerks himself awake.

Tim’s head snaps up, staring at Danny with wide eyes.

“You were asleep?” Red Robin springs up, several different emotions rapidly flip flopping through him.

“Wha… What?” Danny heaves a yawn, blinking blearily down at him. “Sorry, I’m just… they were shit kidnappers, man, really boring. Honestly, worst abduction yet.”

“You were asleep? I thought you were dead!”

“Not mutually exlusive, you know.” Danny says through another yawn. He rolls his neck around with an almighty crack and glances at everyone. “Didn’t think I’d warrant the whole Bat brigade, though…”

“The kidnappers thought they had Tim Drake.” Batman supplies, while Red Robin tries to work through the emotional whiplash.

“Ah, makes sense… wait.” Danny sits up suddenly, squinting at Red Robin. “Did you say you loved me?”

“No, of course not, why would I—”

“Tim? Is that—are you—are you Red Robin?”

“Everyone, hold the fuck up!” Red Hood shouts from the other side of the warehouse, having finished securing the perps to a streetlight outside. “Double R is dating Danny fucking Nightingale?”

Well, there goes his identity… Oh, who’s he kidding, Danny’s smart. There’s no way he could have salvaged that. This was not how he thought the night was going to go.

“Cranberry, is that you?” Danny twists in his chair, somehow delighted to see Red Hood rescuing him, too. “I thought I smelled you lurking about!”

“Shut it, you little shit. Since when were you dating this dweeb?”

“I’m sorry,” Red Robin pleads, hands in the air to try and slow down the onslaught of information and insults, “you two know each other?”

“Cranberry?” Nightwing echoes, looking as lost as Red Robin feels.

“Yeah, Cranberry—The Cranberries—zombie, zombie, zombie-ie-ie. Obviously. Also he’s wearing a big, fuck off red helmet.”

“Yeah, sure, makes sense.”

It’s about the only thing that does.

“And please don’t call my boyfriend a dweeb, Cranberry. Especially when he just said he loves me for the first time.”

“He only said it because he thought you were dead.”

“I am dead, so it counts.”

“Only half, so I’d say that puts you at a solid ‘like’. Tim’s—and savour this, Tim, because I’m only going to say it once—Tim’s intelligent, so I’m sure he’ll come to his senses soon.”

Danny just throws Red Hood such a shit-eating grin. A level of feral that Tim’s only seen before in Damian. 

“That’s what I used to say about Jazz, too.”

Hood scoffs in offence, and to be honest, Tim’s not sure where he should go from here. What the hell is happening, how do they know each other?

“Come on, is anyone going to untie me or am I really meeting your family mafia-style?”

“Do it yourself, Slimer.” Red Hood laughs, crossing his arms.

“Ugh, you suck so much. I’ll fucking slime you, just you wait. Can’t believe Jazz even likes you, I preferred it when she was dating Johnny.”

And then, without Danny doing anything other than muttering obscenities at Red Hood, the ropes fall to the ground. In one swift motion, Danny stands up and stretches himself to his full height of 5’6.

“All of you need to explain, now.” commands Batman, and honestly, Red Robin’s very much on his side of it.

“I can’t believe it… Jason and Timmy are both in secret relationships? That’s… How come no one told me?” Poor Nightwing sounds the most shocked out of all of them. He turns to Damian and clasps onto both of his shoulders. “You’re not secretly dating, are you, D? Please tell me you’re not, please tell me you’re single, please?”

Of course, Robin just clicks his tongue and pushes his hands away. Really, Red Robin doesn’t think that Nightwing’s in any danger of that happening, he’d be surprised if anyone could stand Robin enough to actually date him.

He shakes his head and turns to Danny, who’s staring right back at him, worry clear on his face.

Fuck, he... He's alive. He's really alive.

Tim pulls him into a bone-crushing hug, fingers buried deep in his NASA shirt. Tucking his face into the crook of Danny's shoulder, he laughs wetly with the joy of it. He's alive. He hasn't lost him. He's safe.

“I’m sorry I haven’t told you before now, starshine, but…” Danny breaks the hug and softly pulls away from him to rise on his tiptoes to place a kiss his cheek. The skin burns cold where his lips touch. “I love you, too. Also, you’re gonna wanna sit down. This is going to be a lot.”

[aeligsido]

practice date

(so I got his idea and had to like, write it a bit. I may end up reworking it a bit and posting it on ao3 later if I feel like it. No particular two — just Remus being oblivious and Sirius, for once, missing the writing on the wall lmao.)

-

It all started because of fucking Frank Longbottom. He didn't know how or why, but Frank took Remus out on a date once during their fourth year — right before Frank and Alice started dating, too — and after that, Remus somehow became the most eligible person in all of Hogwarts. Even Slytherins ended up victims of this pandemic.

It pissed Sirius off. Remus was a kind person, sure, and adorable and pretty and smart and gentle and with a humor to die for and so much more mischievous than at first glance and definitely more than date worthy; but for some reason, those people only ever took him out once and then broke it off immediately after. They even started dating other people after! Properly dating, even, not just a trip to Hogsmeade followed by a goodbye-see-you-never, like they did to Remus. It wasn't fair. Remus deserved better than that — he deserved to be taken care of, to have someone to hold his hand and go to the bookstore with him and buy him his favorite apple pie. Not... that.

(Sirius could be this person for Remus.)

Last time, he went with Mary — again, because she was the exception to the rule and often went out with him without deeming him worthy to give him the title of boyfriend. Well. Five times. Five times was a lot! But, last time — last time they went to Madam Puddifoot together once more, but were back laughing at the Three Broomsticks pretty soon in the day, joining them for the rest of the trip. When they separated in the common room, Mary had kissed his cheek and thanked him with a sweet smile, but yet again nothing came out of it.

Sirius was pretty angry at her — at all of them, really. Why did they all feel necessary to play with Remus' heart like that?

He was sitting on his bed, now, on the eve of a new Hogsmead's weekend, angrily wondering who was taking Moony out this time — and perhaps who will be the next target of his pranks. James was going in and out of the bathroom, apparently doing a skincare routine (or something of the like) that managed to take longer than his usual morning routine. Peter was sitting on his bed as well, books open before him, taking notes probably for some homework. Remus was putting on the good shirt he usually wears for his dates.

"So," he started, gripping his pillow tightly. "Going out again, Moony?"

"Hm?" Remus raised his head to address him with a smile. "Yeah, I think it'll be fun."

He was always saying that.

"Who you're going with?"

"Me!" cheered James from the bathroom door.

Sirius blinked. Because, he couldn't have heard that — right? James — his best friend, the other half of his soul — could not do that to him, to Remus?

Peter looked up, suddenly more interested.

Remus smiled indulgently. "Hence the it's going to be fun, you know?"

"But—" Sirius didn't have the time to formulate everything in him — the pit in his stomach and in his heart and the bubbling, ugly feelings taking a hold on his throat — that Moony was already interrupting him.

"Don't worry, Pads. I'll send him back to you at five o'clock sharp." He winked, then, as if it was Sirius' concern at the moment.

"I've been told Moony's the best at it," continued James, apparently ignoring the chaos choking Sirius up. "Our boy comes highly recommended!" He blew up a kiss in Remus' direction, who just shook his head fondly.

"Recommended?" Sirius finally croaked out, trying to make sense of the whole thing.

James properly got out of the bathroom, then, taking a look at him with concern on his face. "You know? For the practice date? Before my real date with Lily next week?" His expression turned dreamy for a moment. "I can't believe I have a date with her," he sighed happily.

Shuffling closer to them, Remus lowered his voice. "I have a practice date with Lily after James. She was pretty anxious when she asked me." He smiled, then, again, as if nothing could make him happier than being a practice date.

Was that what he had been doing this whole time? Giving people practice dates?

Sirius frowned. Remus having so many one-time dates didn't sit well with him, but having so many practice dates didn't seem really fair either.

"How many were real?"

"How many what were real?" asked Remus, confused.

"You know, the dates."

Remus let out a short, surprised laugh. Sirius pursued his lips, unamused, and Remus calmed down at his unusual gravity.

"None? It's not like anyone would want to really date me, anyway." He gestured to himself, as if it was explanation enough — which it wasn't, Sirius wanted to date this whole... Remusness, thank you very much. Remus was amazing, why wouldn't people want to date him?

Sirius couldn't answer — it didn't know if he could actually say anything to that. Remus got distracted by James, anyway, and soon they were leaving them behind for their practice date.

Sirius put his face into his pillow and let out an angry yell.

From his bed, Peter turned a page of his book, utterly unbothered but still a cheeky bastard. The clear amusement in his next words was proof enough of it.

"So, do you want me to be your practice date for when Moony'll realize you're trying to ask him out, or you'll take Prongs?"

Sirius threw the pillow at him.

[13reasonstoeatthatcake]

I really want to know how Lilith Sorrengail feels about trying her best to get her youngest daughter away from whatever it was that her dad supposedly found in the Archives after Brennan 'died', just to get said daughter even more involved with the tyrrish rebellion two: electric boogaloo.

[mephistopheleswasrobbed]

I'm mad.

Home worked all night on his apology pancakes.

He was ready. He wanted to tell Peach, to apologise and ask for forgiveness. And he wanted to do it himself. Because he knew this was something he had to face himself, just like Peach had to face his ghost himself.

He says so explicitly.

And yet, Kid (and Kan) took that away from him. They took his chance to confess, apologise and ask for forgiveness. They took his chance to save what is most important to him. His family with Peach and Pangpang.

Kan told Home to confess the sooner the better from the beginning. Aside from Home himself, she's the only one who has the full picture so she warned him.

And then over the course of the episode she kept puttng pressure on Home.

And it worked! Home was steeling himself and preparing to confess. Hell, he even almost did it right there in the kitchen after overhearing Chai-Un making his own confession.

But he was interrupted. And after he saw Peach asking for forgiveness from the person he almost killed through his food, Home wanted to do the same. Because he knows how much food means to Peach and that Peach would know it to be a meaningful gesture from Home because he knows that Home has never cooked before. That he must have worked hard to make this for him. So he asked for a little more time. So he could prepare his apology properly.

(Now, of course, one could maybe argue that Home needs to find his own way to apologise instead of just copying Peach. And I can accept that argument though I stand by my opinion that it would have been meaningful for them in this manner. That Home saw Peach getting forgiven by Chai-Un and thought he could have the same, easy conclusion. This one I don't accept because Home did almost confess before Peach got forgiven.)

Kan heard this onversation. She knew Home asked for just a little more time.

And I guess she didn't believe him? Or she thought someone from the Vimarnsukman family would stop him. We don't yet know the full extent of her backstory but it probably involves Home's family harming someone she cared about. So I'm willing to give her that she probably has a reason to not believe the confession would happen. But she could have talked to Home about it again. One day. Not even, maybe half a day. That's all Home needed.

But instead she chose to take the oportunity from him. For revenge or whatever her goal is.

And she didn't even do her due dilligence.

Not that what really happened is so much better than drunk driving but this is just one more thing painting Home as an irresponsible rich brat when he didn't drink. In fact we learn that he just doesn't drink and drive in general to the point that his associates are annoyed by it.

Not that he deserves a medal for it but we learn that Home was a lot less immature three years ago than we were lead to believe, maybe even less than at the beginning of the series when he was hiding his demons behind a facade of rich-bratness. When he finds out that Baby#13 lied to him about her boyfriend he leaves. He doesn't cause a scene, he doesn't start shit with the boyfriend he just leaves. He removes himself from the situation (but the situation keeps calling until he forgets to pay attention to the road and thus begin our troubles.) All to say that Home was actually not as bad as Kan clearly thinks.

And Kid. After the last episode I thought that maybe he wasn't that bad after all. Just trying to protect his nephew with any method he had at his disposal. It wouldn't have made what he had done ok, but at least understandable. Many people would do whatever they can to protect their loved ones from any harm, and if you grew up with wealth, surrounded by people who can fix any mistake by throwing money at it, a "solution" like this isn't surprising. But from what we saw this episode it seems I was wrong. It seems what he truly cares about is not Home, certainly not Home's happiness but rather the family name and the money.

Three years ago we saw that Home wanted to do the right thing. He wanted to help Peach.

But he was scared and didn't know what to do so he made a mistake. He called his uncle whom he trusted. And his uncle told him not to help, told him to run, to let him "solve" the problem for him.

And now, three years later, Kid tries to "help" Home again, but Home tells him "No. Let me do this myself." And Kid proceeds to do no such thing. He just "fixes" everything for Home as before. Without even talking to Home first. Because he doesn't even consider that Home has something more important to him than money and reputation.

So he also takes away Home's choice and sends attorny Yai after Home's family. To intimidate the people Home loves into not suing them. Because that's what he thinks of them. Just two poor leeches who will take any opportunity to take their money. Nothing more.

But he's wrong. Peach and Pangpang weren't sticking around for the money. They didn't even take any of it in the end. They were sticking around for Home. And by making them think that Home thinks so little of them that he would send his lawyer to threaten them instead of facing them himself, he puts the final nail in the coffin of Home's family.

And attorny Yai was there for that. He saw that and it still didn't even occur to him that they might have done wrong by Home (let alone Peach but he wouldn't care about that anyway).

No, he has the gall to tell Home that there's NOTHING TO WORRY ABOUT. That loosing his family, having the people he loves think that he never cared about them, is THE BEST FUCKING SOLUTION.

This. This is his best solution. Home's hard work and best efforts to become a better person, to grow into someone whose family could maybe forgive his past wrong-doings, to be the version of himself that owns up to his mistakes and asks for forgiveness, on the floor, broken and trampled on.

No one outside of it takes their family seriously. Not Kan who was supposed to be one of them. Not Kid who thinks he's the only family Home needs. Not Yai, not Suradech who witnessed them get closer and still ended up following orders.

Not the smug-faced bastard Best who had to poke his nose where it didn't belong.

And btw, can we talk about how it was not only Home's agency that all of them took away. It was also Peach's. Did anyone ask him if he wanted his face and story plastered all over the internet? Did anyone stop to cosider how he might feel to have the truth revealed to him like this? To have the worst possible version of Home shoved in his face by everyone aside from Home himself? No, of course not.

The only one who tried to stop this, the only one who could see how much Home and Peach care about each other and thus knew that this could't be it, was Pangpang.

Because she's the only other real member of their little family. The only one willing and capable of feeling the home they had built for themselves.

And it really hurt to see the fall out. To see Home break, desperately trying to make the people around him see what they took from him, trying to understand how they could hurt him so bad in the name of helping him.

(damn Newwie that was some excellent scream-crying)

To see Peach turn on the shower in their old apartment so his sister wouldn't have to hear him cry.

(ouch)

To end the episode on that shot of Peach looking so small as he's crying in the corner of their old bathroom.

To give one final punch in the face with Home looking even smaller in the end credits. Sitting alone and eating fast-food like before he had them. At the table where Pangpang first called them a family. With all the reminders he has left of their time together on the table before him.

[wisteria-whump]

whumpee who hears the tiniest noises at night and convinces themself that whumper has found them and is going to kill them or recapture them 🫶

[undertale-fic-librarby]

Melatonin

A FluffyNight drabble to celebrate reaching 50 followers on this account. It's pretty short & not beta read, but I think it's alright for being written in one sitting. Happy reading!

Beep! Beep! Beep! The sound of Ccino's alarm forced him awake, pulling him out of the pleasant dreams he had been having. Even now, Ccino could feel them slipping from his skull, leaving him wondering what exactly he had been dreaming about.

The continued beeping of his alarm pulled him from his thoughts & Ccino groaned, pushing his face into his pillow. Blindly reaching for it, Ccino attempted to turn it off without looking, knocking his hand against the other things on the nightstand before finally managing to push the button to silence it.

Blissful quiet filled the room as Ccino felt Nightmare shift next to him. Arms wrapped around him & pulled him close, holding Ccino close to Nightmare. Ccino smiled sleepily, turning on his side so he faced towards the other. He hummed quietly as he observed Nightmare looking back at him with a lidded socket, an annoyed expression on his face.

"Sorry, did I wake you?" Whispering so as to not ruin the atmosphere, Ccino questioned worriedly. Nightmare shook his head & moved slowly, readjusting them both until they were situated comfortably against each other.

Ccino smiled wider & closed his sockets, holding the other in his arms. Together in each other's arms, they both quietly drifted back to sleep.

Bonus scene!

A shrill beeping jolted them both back awake, causing Ccino to jump in Nightmare's arms. Grumbling to himself, he slowly sat up & reached over to the alarm, shutting it off.

Sitting up properly, Ccino stretched his arms above his head & groaned as he heard his joints pop, rubbing the bottom of his sockets with one hand. Picking up his phone & turning it on, his sockets widened in shock as he let out a loud, "Shoot!"

Scrambling & throwing the blanket off of himself, Ccino barely noticed as Nightmare sat up in alarm. "Is everything alright?" Ccino stammered out a reply, mild panic in his voice as he began changing out of his pajamas.

"Everything's fine! We just overslept a bit!" Relaxing slightly, Nightmare observed as Ccino got ready for the day, rushing around quickly so he wouldn't be later than he already was. If he concentrated, he could swear that he heard the meows of hungry cats impatiently calling for their breakfast.

Hastily walking over to Nightmare, having gotten dressed quickly, Ccino leaned over & placed a chaste kiss against his lovers cheek, smiling. "Love you, see you later!" With that he exited the room, leaving Nightmare sitting alone on the bed with only a warm imprint of where Ccino laid as company.

[scarlettcryptid]

made pro hero touya and pro hero tenko using this picrew.

🍩 touya just realized he got donut'd.

🍩 tenko's too busy trying to smile like a normal person to notice the donut on his head.