#because the other person was supposed to bring a sound system and they didn’t feel like it

[yjhariani]

Ghost X gn!reader (CoD X SCP)

You're an MTF soldier. They had to give you amnestics, but it went wrong and made you forget ever meeting your significant other. Was it actually just an accident or was there something more? (no promise of making this a series, but I'm trying).

Angst but not really.

Once Simon got the call, he knew something bad happened.

It was not your number. It was not your voice that called from the other side. Being in roughly the same field as you, he knew what this call meant.

Bad news.

Even though Simon personally had never made this kind of call before, he had been there a few times when his colleagues had to. Price dominantly.

All the calls were the result of one specific event. Death of a soldier.

So, Simon did not even let the caller finish their first sentence. He cut them off with a simple, “I’ll be there,” before hanging up.

Simon considered putting on his uniform, but he realised that where you work, everything was classified. It would be no use hiding himself because they knew who everybody was anyway. He was especially attached to you and he knew that meant the place you worked at probably knew what he ate for breakfast better than he himself did.

Once arriving at your base, Simon was not even surprised that one mention of your name got him rushed straight to the base hospital.

As of now, Simon had not decided what to feel. He just kept walking, following this person who took him to the dark part of the hospital. However, he accepted that he felt the slight confusion tugging at his mind when they continued walking pass instead of walking into the morgue.

Even so, Simon kept his words behind his tongue.

Soon, they reached a thick, barred, metal double door with two securities standing in front of them. The person leading their way only mentioned your name before the security officers—if that was what they were—unbarred the door and opened it.

Simon’s guide turned to face him and quietly, as if they were not supposed to make a noise here, said, “I don’t have clearance for this level, but you will see your partner’s Team Leader.”

With an understanding nod, Simon walked through the door into a short, dim-lit tunnel. At the end of it, a twin hospital door stood. From here, it looked like a regular hospital, only it was placed underground and had barely anyone inside.

Inside, stood awaiting, a soldier still in field uniform. She looked quite messy. It made Simon wonder if he had looked that messy when something this horrible happened to him in the field. Whatever this something was.

Seeing Simon, that older woman walked up to him and nodded, rubbing her hands nervously.

“Ghost,” she greeted. “Or do you prefer Lieutenant Riley?”

Outside his uniform? Both sounded bad. Simon was here for you. He could not care less what people address him with.

“Are they in one piece?” Simon asked right away.

Just after saying the question, it registered in Simon’s mind that he had been thinking that it must have been so bad that they had to bring him into this super-secure underground hospital just to ID you.

Connecting the dots, the woman scrunched her eyebrows as her head tilted slightly to the side.

“They’re not dead,” she said. “I tried to tell you in the call, but you didn’t seem to be taking any explanation.”

They’re not dead, Simon repeated in his head. A bleed of warmth grew in his chest.

“However,” the woman continued, “on our mission, something terrible has happened. Out of the five of us, only your partner and I made it out.”

Simon did not react. He did not say anything. He did not move a muscle.

“Your partner… needed amnestics administered in their system. We did—uh… we were in the middle of administering the amnestics when,” the woman took a deep breath and sighed, “we had a breach in the facility.”

There came a halt as the woman flipped through the words in her mind.

“We successfully administered the amnestics,” the woman stated. “Just… not the correct one.”

This time, a spasm came about Simon's forehead.

“Usually, we don’t share this detail, but your partner is very important to us and we respect them, so we are telling you this,” she paused before continuing, “What we initially intended to modify was the events of the last two days, but… with the breach happening, everything went, uh… out of our hands. Your partner has lost… the memory of all that happened in the past two years.”

It took a moment to sink in Simon’s head. Once it did, all he thought about was that he met you a little bit less than two years ago.

Simon was just about to meet the 141 at a pub when the whole area was suddenly secured. There were soldiers from the Foundations all over the place and they clocked them instantly. They asked for their assistance on a job that Simon did not have the memory of any more. One of the Foundations’ soldiers he worked with was you.

It was not the worst of missions that the 141 was able to not get amnestic administered—at least that they knew of. So, that meant Simon got to keep your memory. The two of you had not stopped talking since.

The thought of having himself removed from your memory at once made warmth that bled in Simon’s chest froze in an instant.

“I know how much they mean to you and we can offer to have you—”

Knowing what she wanted to say, Simon immediately cut her off with, “Where are they?”

With so, the woman led Simon to a room. She opened the door for him, but did not step in.

Stepping in with a heavy heart, Simon eventually saw you. You were sitting on the hospital bed, an IV plugged into the back of your hand, and several recent injuries were painted on you.

In your hands, Simon saw a familiar white envelope. Then, he saw that you finally looked at him. No smile. No recognition.

“Are you Simon?” you asked.

“I am,” was all that Simon managed to say.

“They told me,” you nodded before lightly waving the envelope in your hands. “Two weeks to go, huh? Guess you’d want to call off the wedding?”

Bullets in his flesh felt like nothing compared to what Simon just heard coming out of your mouth.

Stepping closer, Simon exhaled. He glanced at the wedding invitation in your hand, seeing that it was addressed to ORCA. You said it was your Team Leader, who Simon guessed was also the one to give you that invitation. The woman who Simon just saw.

“If you want to call it off, we call it off,” Simon did not even believe he said that, but refused to show that.

“You sound like you don't want to?” you asked.

Simon looked at you, lightly raising an eyebrow.

“I mean… I don’t know who you are,” you said. “I think?”

For a while, Simon only looked at you. What you had on your face was not your lying face. It was not a joke. It was real. You did not remember him at all.

There came the moment when the two of you said nothing, hardly looking at each other. Then, you stretched an arm out to the side table and lifted your phone.

“I read our texts, saw our pictures,” you said. “You seemed to be my everything.”

If he could, Simon would punch something so hard right now.

“I’m sorry,” you quickly said once seeing how Simon’s subtle reactions were. “I… I’m just trying to figure things out.”

“‘s all right,” Simon nodded, understanding.

You tried a thin, apologetic smile.

“Must be hard for you,” you said.

Another long pause came in between you both.

“Do you want to hug me?” you offered, arms lightly opened.

Usually, you did not even have to ask and Simon would just come right at you. However, it took a lot for Simon to hold himself back when you saw him as a stranger.

“You don’t have to–”

“I want to,” you cut him off. “Maybe it’ll feel familiar, I don’t know. If you want to.”

After a moment of consideration, Simon carefully approached you. Even though he moved slowly and with care, once the two of you got close enough, you attached yourselves to each other like magnets. Your arms lightly wrapped around each other before, as if there was a whirlpool in between you that pulled your cores, your arms tightened around each other.

The only reason Simon released you was because you let out a slightly uncomfortable exhale.

“Apologies,” Simon said, thinking he might have hugged you too tightly.

“No, it’s alright,” you replied.

Another moment passed with the two of you just looking at each other. It was apparent that you were studying him.

“At some point I’m going to have to be released from here,” you brought up. “Can I go home with you?”

“Sure you’re alright with that?” Simon asked.

“Are you?” you asked back.

Simon almost said ‘Totally!’ but then, he kept getting reminded that he was just a stranger to you and he was not always good with that type of relationship. Strangers tended to see him and avoided him, praying to never make eye contact with him.

However, you seemed genuine. He still saw the kindness and the shimmer in your eyes even though it was different from how you looked at him last–two weeks ago.

So, Simon said, “Yeah.”

“I don’t want to burden you,” you added eagerly. “If you don’t have the space, I don’t–”

“We just bought a house,” Simon almost excitedly replied.

“Oh,” you responded.

“We,” Simon hesitated to continue, “we adopted this devilish cat not long ago and he already pissed on everything.”

For the first time after Simon saw you laugh a couple of weeks ago, he saw you letting out a chuckle. For a second, Simon almost forgot that something bad had happened to you.

“I can help you clean up if you let me stay in your house,” Simon almost did not hear you say.

Our house, Simon wanted to say, but refused to.

“So… can I?” you asked.

“Already said yes,” Simon reminded.

“Okay,” you nodded.

No words were exchanged for some time after that.

“Are you staying here long? I wouldn’t mind getting to know you a little,” you said.

Simon let a small smile bloom on his face.

“You said that once,” Simon said, pulling a chair before he sat on it next to your bed.

[strawberrycrushes]

Memories Of a Distant Time

A/N: Jean before she became the acting grandmaster should get written about more. That’s actually true for most characters and their pre-game appearance lives.

Hearty laughter fills the air and the entire tavern seems enthralled by Varka’s story, his natural charisma pulling everyone in.

You bring your drink to your lips as you listen in, occasionally interrupting to correct him on a few details. Spicing up the story regarding the expedition was a good way to hold in the crowd’s attention, you had to agree, but that being said you didn’t want it to be just plain incorrect either, and Varka’s tendency to do exactly that was increasing with every drink he had.

You shake your head. “That’s not what happened at all. Marianne sprained her ankle well before the abyss order attack. That’s why she wasn’t even there actually.” You corrected him again with a pointed look.

“No, no. I’m quite sure she was, that’s why we went back after all. To go get her?” Varka waved you off. You rolled your eyes “You do realise that makes you sound like a horrible boss for leaving her there in the first place, right? Whatever, at least it’s better than letting them know that the ACTUAL reason we went back was just because you left your mission report behind and didn’t want to rewrite it.” you smirked at him.

The crowd laughed as the both of you bickered over the details.

“Come on now Captain, don’t be such a bore. You’re making it sound like any other expedition.”

“It WAS just like any other expedition.” You pointed out, “At least it was supposed to be until the Abyss decided to pop in and say hi. Archons above that was a headache. You know what? At this point just let me tell the story why don’t you? I’m sure I could put a better spin on it, and on your incompetence, than you could.”

Varka put his hand over his heart and sighed over-dramatically “You truly wound me, Captain but you should cut me some slack. I mean, you said it yourself didn’t you? The abyss order attack was incredibly unexpected. I thought I handled it pretty well for how little experience we have in dealing with them.” Varka took another sip from his glass, “And besides Captain, your own feats of strength were quite flattering in my story. So that does beg the question I suppose… Are you only saying this because of a false sense of modesty, a heroic desire for a genuine re-telling—or just the need to ruin my story?”

“Well...if you actually have to wonder that then maybe you’re not as bright as you make yourself out to be.” You laughed along with the tavern as Varka prepared to bite back with a jab of his own. It was clear to anyone with two working eyes that the two of you got along really well.

Painfully so, Jean thought.

She sighed sulking off to some desolate corner of the tavern, feeling her stomach twist into ugly knots as familiar feelings of jealousy and defeat crept up inside her. Wolvendom was supposed to be her chance. She was supposed to walk up to you and start a conversation—You know, like any normal person would—Unfortunately for Jean, she found it very difficult to operate as normal where you were involved resulting in her barely even getting a sentence in let alone an actual conversation. She felt like an idiot, especially since you did try. You talked to her, and all Jean could give you was either a stiff nod or an awkward attempt at an answer. Neither of which made for good conversation starters as it turned out.

She buried her face into her hands and groaned. She probably looked like an idiot to you too. “Way to make a first impression Jean.” She grumbled to herself as she looked back up to see you and Varka still joking along with each other. Maybe it was the alcohol still in her system but she felt pathetic. Years of pining after you to no avail and every fault of her own, she felt like the love stories of her novels, no, the love stories anyone her age got to enjoy, were simply not meant for her. Like her mother was right.

“My my, doesn’t somebody look like poster child of loneliness. Let me guess, you couldn’t talk to your crush the entire expedition and now you’re feeling depressed. Am I correct?” She heard a suave voice snicker behind her and she didn’t need to look back to see who it was.

“Go away Kaeya,” she grumbled, “let me be depressed in peace.”

“As much as I’d love to do that as your friend, and the only person between us that actually knows how to communicate, I thought I should act on my duty to help you, say….basically get laid.” Kaeya gave her a mischievous grin and Jean looked at him cautiously. “Kaeya. What did you do?” She asked him, extremely concerned for her safety.

“Don’t even worry about it. Hey, here’s an idea, why don’t you go out and take a walk, hm? I’m sure some fresh air would make for the perfect backdrop to your miseries.” Kaeya dismissively said as he dragged Jean by her hand towards the balcony, not even giving her a chance to reply.

“H-hey wait a minute, what did you-!”

Slam

Kaeya shut the balcony door, locking it. “Kaeya? Kaeya!” She struggled futilely with the door handle “Open the damn door Kaeya or I swear to Barbatoes I’m telling Master Crepus about this.” Her threats were met with laughter. Not laughter from behind the door, no, but from-

She turned around with a flushed face to see you giggling into your hand. “C-captain?”

“Sorry sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt your little…tangent?” You tease and if it was possible, Jean turned a shade redder.

“W-well. That was” Damn it Kaeya really?

“Miss Jean. Please, calm down. Kaeya told me you wanted to talk?”

DAMN IT KAEYA REALLY?

Jean gnawed at her lips. She was going to have to kill Kaeya later but first she needed to diffuse the situation at hand. There was no way she was anywhere NEAR prepared for a situation like this. "That.." She subtly gulped, "Well...you know how he can be like, I'm sure he just thought it was an amusing prank. Or something." She mumbled looking down at her feet as if they were the most interesting things in the world.

"Is that so?"

She nodded, "I have nothing I wish to say to you Captain. I assure you."

For some reason, a quiet descended on you two and Jean became nervous. Did you not believe her? Or maybe you did and are just annoyed that you’re locked out here with her for no reason now. Or-

"Jean?” You spoke out, sounding strangely downcast.

Jean looked up. You were leaning against the railing now, looking…dejected?

“Yes Captain?”

You open your mouth, close it again awkwardly, then try again. “Do you hate me?”

Jean's eyes widen. “I’m sorry?”

You look back at her. "Every time I try to talk to you, you avoid me. If try to make conversation, you’ll give me standoffish looks or ‘assure me’ that you have 'nothing you wish to say to me'.”

You frown and Jean winces. Did she really sound like that? Wait-HAS SHE BEEN SAYING THINGS LIKE THAT THE ENTIRE TIME?

“Yes.” You deadpan.

“Ah, did I-?”

“Yes you did say that out loud.” You give a slight smile and some humour returns to your voice. Something Jean is very thankful for.

“Jean.” You say, “I’m going to be honest, I really admire you. You’re such a hardworking person, more so than anyone I’ve ever met before. You’re honest too, and kind. You care so much for the people around you that you forget to care for yourself alongside. When I see you, it gives me the motivation to work hard too.” You pump your fist, seeming uncharacteristically shy. “I guess you could say that I’m where I am now because of you.”

Jean’s mouth gapes and you laugh. “Too much? It’s true though, I’m not sure you remember but we met once when we were kids? I was training—nothing formal, just by myself—you saw me and came over, said I was holding my stance incorrectly. You taught me that day, for no other reason but the fact that I looked like I needed help. I thought it was absurd, but I’ve admired you since then.” You smile.

"I-" She tries to open her mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. How was she even supposed to reply to that!? She was sure her face was on fire with how hot it felt. Still, she had to try. She messed things up before, but that didn’t mean she could set things right. You were trying. She’d try too.

“I…admire you a lot too.” You looked at her with a mix of surprise and curiosity on your face. Jean gulped. “You’re someone I look up to a lot, and respect. You became a captain at such a young age, without any noble family backing you up, but it also made me think that perhaps you wouldn’t like me because I was already given an advantage at birth when you had to work so hard for it, if that makes sense?”

You frown. “Why would I hate you for something you couldn’t control? And you make it sound like you didn’t more than earn your place amongst the Knights. In fact, I honestly think you should be ranked higher, like a Captain, or maybe even a Grandmaster?”

“You’re flattering me.” Jean blushed, “There’s no way I deserve a title of such high esteem.”

“You do.” You say simply. “You’re just being humble.”

“I’m not.” Jean finds herself laughing. “I mean, I can barely even hold a conversation on your level.”

You raise your brow. “On my level?”

“Yes! Whenever you talk, the whole room becomes captivated. They laugh along with your jokes and hang on to every word you say.”

“You’re exaggerating.” It was your turn to blush.

“I’m not.” Jean smiles. “You’re just being humble.”

You snort. “Touché. But I’m being serious, I’m better a Knight than a conversationalist. I don’t think my personality is quite as suited for that.”

“What do you mean?”

You shrug. “I just bounce off Varka, he brings most of the charm.”

“I think you’re charming.”

You blink. “What?”

“You are.” Jean says firmly. “At least for me. Everything you say manages to bring a smile to my face. I like hearing you talk. So I think you’re quite charming.” She states simply.

You give her a strange look, and she grows nervous under your stare. Had she said something wrong again?

You smile. “You���re an interesting one Jean.” You kiss her on the cheek and Jean practically short-circuits, caught completely off guard. “I should go make sure Varka didn’t do anything too stupid while I was gone. See you later?.” You ask, Jean, who had completely short-circuited by the point, could only nod in response. “Good. I’ll be looking forward to it.” You chuckle and walk away, managing to open the door with no apparent difficulty.

Oh right. She was going to have to thank Kaeya later…

[amiserableseriesofevents]

Wherever you find love (it feels like Christmas)

24 Clegan Christmas drabbles for 24 days!

Prompt from here (but randomized)

[Day 1] [Day 2] [Day 3] [Day 4] [Day 5] [Day 6] [Day 7] [Day 8] [Day 9] [Day 10]

[Read on AO3]

Day 11: Slippery

Such stuff-verse, wc 1232

All I want for Christmas is you is blasting from the skating ring’s sound system, colored neon lights reflecting on the shiny ice surface where a few other skaters are swirling around, laughing. Gale keeps staring at the ice, unconvinced, and instinctively fastens his skates a little more.

“You ok Buck?” John asks him from where he’s sitting right beside him, adjusting the clasps of his own skates. Gale nods, smiling reflexively. “Yeah, I’m good. Just making sure there are well tight. You good?”

“Sure Buck, as always!” John answers. It’s normal, Gale figures, since it’s been his idea to come here skating for their date.

They were walking by a few days ago, on a rare afternoon off for both of them, and when Gale noticed the ice rink he was surprised because it was the first time there was one in town, as far as he could remember. He pointed it out to John and of course the other’s reaction was to propose they’d go ice skating the following week for their weekly date outside the theatre, their newest tradition.

He sounded so excited about it, Gale didn’t have the heart to tell him he had no idea how to skate; he figured John knew it well enough for the both of them, that it would’ve been him teaching Gale how to do it — and he must admit it, however much he considers himself to be an independent person there’s something about the idea of trusting someone else, of holding their hand knowing they’ll keep you safe, that brings a flurry of butterflies to his stomach.

He pictured it in great details; his gloved hand in John’s, his reassuring voice in his ears telling him he’s doing good, his arms around him to keep him steady whenever he’d falter and risk to fall.

“C’mon, we don’t wanna waste our entire half hour here on the bench!” John says cheerfully, standing up on wobbly legs and for a split second Gale thinks maybe he should be worried about John’s knee, he should’ve asked if it was up to it, but then he figures John’s only insecure because he’s currently standing on thin metal blades on a carpeted pavement, and he’ll be right as rain on the actual ice. After all he grew up in Wisconsin, he must have skated on Lake Michigan every winter when he was a kid.

So Gale also stands up, immediately despising how uncertain he feels on his own legs, and grabs John’s hand to be guided outside on the ice.

The first step he takes over there risks being his very last one on Earth, his bladed foot slipping forward for him to keep up with it; Gale manages to regain some of his balance only because he’s squeezing John’s hand like a lifeline ad the other guy somehow keeps him steady, huffing when Gale’s back collides with his chest — nothing romantic about that, Gale thinks feeling himself furiously blush. “Sorry about that,” he says, gripping the railing with both hands and making a few more tentative steps on the shiny surface.

John follows, chuckling softly. “Don’t worry Buck, it happens to the best of us,” he says and Gale already feels a bit better, as always reassured by his boyfriend.

They start slowly, in single line and with their hands solidly gripping the cold handrail. Gale supposes John is giving him some time to adjust to the slippery surface beneath his feet and even if he can’t say it’s working, he’s glad he’s not pushing him.

At their third lap around the rink, his faith in his own feet hasn’t grown in the slightest and he’s starting to think something’s wrong.

“John,” he tries lightly. “I’m ok.”

“Good to know, Buck!” John responds from behind him, sounding maybe a tad annoyed.

“Are you ok?” Gale asks.

“Peachy!” John says, his voice telling Gale that’s all but true. With no little difficulty he stops, legs wide to maintain some balance, and turns his head to look at John; he’s gripping the handrail so tight Gale imagines his hands white knuckled inside his mittens, his face’s all red for the effort of keeping himself upright, and he looks every bit uncomfortable as Gale feels.

“You don’t have to slow yourself down for me,” Gale says, unsure if that’s really the problem. “You can go and leave me behind for a lap or two if you want to go faster, and then you can teach me.”

John looks puzzled. “Me? Teaching you?”

“Yeah, that’s why we’re here, aren’t we? Or you thought I was also good at it?” Gale asks, suddenly worried.

“Buck. You don’t know how to skate?” John asks back.

“What? Of course not, I’ve never done it before. Why?”

“Because! You were looking at the rink with such wonder when we came here last week, I figured you liked to skate and wanted to go back to it!”

Gale laughs, amused. “What? No, that wasn’t it! I was just surprised because I’ve been to this Christmas market every year since I moved here but there’s never been an ice rink. But it’s ok, you can teach me. I promise I won’t trip and make us both fall on our asses, or at least I’ll do my best not to.”

John looks more and more distraught as Gale continues to speak. “Buck,” he exclaims. “For fuck’s sake, I have no idea how to skate!”

“What?! But you’re from Wisconsin! I mean, isn’t ice hockey like your national sport?”

“Kinda, yeah, but in case you forgot I tore my fucking ACL when I was a kid and there was no more ice skating for me after that! It’s been fifteen years since the last time I set foot on the ice, Buck!”

“Then why did you suggest to come here for our date?!”

“Because! I thought you knew how to skate and I wanted you to teach me. It was so romantic in my mind, us holding hands as you told me how good I was, kissing under the falling snow…”

“This is an indoor rink,” Gale pointed out with a smirk.

“Whatever, Buck! Leave my fantasies alone,” John huffs, his cheeks now flushed with embarrassment instead of fatigue. Gale finds him utterly adorable, he’d kiss him if only he wasn’t sure he’d fall on his ass if he let go of the handrail.

“So neither of us knows how to skate,” he sums up. “And you’re also afraid you’re gonna fall on the ice and break something?”

“I’m terrified. And if something happens to my knee because I’ve been an idiot, my mum’s gonna kill me.”

“Well, that settles it. Let’s get back to the entrance, slowly, and let’s leave the skates behind,” Gale says.

“But our date,” John starts but Gale shakes his head. “There’s a cafeteria right there where they make the best hot chocolate I’ve ever had in my life, and I think we deserve at least two cups after what we’ve been through tonight. What d’you say?” He asks, offering John one of his gloved hands. John nods, smiling sheepishly and grabbing Gale’s hand.

“That’s why everyone says we need to work on our communicating skills,” he says as they slowly skate back, a laugh lingering in his tone. Gale can’t help but snort at that, shaking his head at their idiocy.

[petrichorvoices]

I’ve been told that when we were younger, we were very determined to differentiate ourselves from each other, and as someone who has only been here for a year or two I find that rather odd. We used to make public lists of our who we are and what we were each like, we dreaded sounding similar to each other, and we went out of our way to try and force ourselves to have differences in handwriting and art styles.

Frankly, I don’t understand it. I personally take comfort in the anonymity of plurality. I find it lovely to let a more talkative fronter take the lead in a conversation and then only add a few comments without having to identify myself. I feel safe being able to state that an opinion or thought is mine personally and not representative of the system as a whole without having to so much as hint as to who I am. While I do enjoy having a distinct handwriting, I dislike having a distinct voice, and try to avoid speaking out loud because of it. I see other fronters here with its own configurations between anonymity and individuality. Cecil speaks all the time but rarely signs off on what it says. Mim, ever-present in our front and internal dialogue, rarely makes xeir presence known on our blog. Jonny has his own blog, Ice2 loves to identify himself, and yet others who are always in front have never once spoken its name on here.

My own personal theory as for why this is the case is that when we were younger, we were less comfortable in our plurality. We didn’t trust that people would believe us for who we said we were, and we felt the need to overcompensate as a result. Now, aware of our from-birth plurality for so long, and with friends that we trust will trust us, we’re finding comfort in being seen more as a collective entity, rather than a loosely-bound group of individuals with no overlap. It’s why we use the word ourselfves, it’s why we type in our differing ways without necessarily proxying.

I do suppose, though, that it would be nice to be seen as an individual sometimes, perhaps more often than I am now. I tend to avoid identifying myself out of fear that my fictivity will make me annoying and cumbersome to speak to, an anxiety that I and we still haven’t mustered the courage to bring up to our friends. I’m extremely curious as to what our friends that we rarely proxy to think about us, how they perceive us, how often they can tell when a different headmate is speaking, and if they mentally keep track of those of us they know of. It’s something I would ask about but unfortunately, I am rather rife with anxiety about the matter. I speak frequently, and have identified myself a small handful of times, but I don’t recall what I’ve said about myself.

I don’t really have a point to this and I don’t really know how to end my musings. It’s simply something that I’ve been thinking about all day and so wanted to get written down.

[shinakazami1]

Been busy lately so I don’t have much time to review and edit, but here I am! (this was supposed to be sent on the anniversary.) (edit 1: It’s already (edit 2: halfway through) november.)

(edit 3: i gave up. words be damned, i’m sending this. there should have been more. curse you writing)

(edit 4: reminder. write a long ask anywhere else except the actual tumblr ask window. sending again just to make sure i didn’t hallucinate all this- it would be so, very embarassing...)

hehehehehe love your art. Crunchy. Pringles. Crushing it in my mouth. yummy colors and perspective (That bucket sexyman design looking kinda fine though.,..i mean who said that) (->absolutely normal behavior)

I love how you interact with others’ art, leaving your comments and compliments. Really appreciate that little motivation boost and positivity you spread :)

As seen from Paratober, you seem to take the prompts beyond their face value and messed around with the concepts of those prompts (gonna put Jester in a carton box hehe. Can we have Jester loafing? Loafing in a box?)

Personally I’m not a writer, so I don’t know how you guys’ brains work but I love how you come up with interesting ideas stemming from the game’s original material, expanding, digging deeper into them. I look up at you all in wonder hehe

Also, I read unheard wishes.

You see, I rarely ever seek out angst. I came in there with “this is gonna hurt but I can totally bring myself through this”

Boy was I wrong. Now, because I didn’t read it properly enough to leave a comment that would do it justice (time restraints get you like that), I won’t give a lengthy review. But just so you know, my general feelings were “who do you think you are. did you really think you had the right to hurt me like this. *inhales* aaaaaaaaaAA *cars crashing glass breaking sound effects idk* *lays motionless on the ground* (affectionate)”

Maybe i’ll read your filk wip next. Biology is fun :]

It’s your way with the images you make for your stories and art. Candlecurator? Whatever’s up with fernarrator? I’m not listing the ones in your writings. A lazy, lazy anon I am, I know. [insert another keyboard smash]

I haven’t been here for a while so i don’t really remember much, sorry ;; (-> fake fan detected?!? *vine boom*)

Your theories definitely left the strongest impressions on me. How do you all think like that?? (this goes to the rest of you, tsp theorists/analysts/meta. what are you all on??? damn. give me some.). Perhaps it’s a writer’s thing, maybe I’m just incompetent in this deep thinking kind of stuff.

My favourite was the nature connection theory. Absolutely ate that up. (definitely not because of my bias for plants and nature-related stuff, noooo-). You somehow connected the plants in the parable, creating these wonderful strings of text about what you saw in these plants, the implications, and then sharing those ideas to us. Give me your braincells, shina. Give me-

[Close your eyes.]

Anyway- I think you’re pretty neat :]

Have a nice day!

✨✨✨!!!!!307 ANON!!!✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

ᴬᵍᵃᶦⁿ since I was already writing a draft to respond to your previous ask. The fact you have this copy makes me hope you are saving these asks somewhere because I lost a lot of posts thanks to the great Tumblr editing system....

Happy (belated and too early at the same time hehe) anniversary 307 :] To your edits - PLEASE start writing drafts somewhere else oshsaoifas I don't want you to lose your versions again. You might say you are not a writer but you decide to write such beautiful comments and asks - value your words more :]

Anon. I have an exam this week so it will take my energy but DO KNOW YOU WILL GET BUCKET SEXYMEN SKETCH. I imagine you will see it in a few months but,,, I hope you will like it, just like you like my art in general.

I feel now in retrospect so silly I hadn't done this sooner!! While I sometimes don't have the energy to comment on other people's stuff in my own comments, I know how much joy being told your words could make someone happy :] And I love interacting like that!! Shared appreciation!!! That's why I adore Tumblr in general - it feels most organic in that ability to engage with others as a social media.

I'm glad you like the Paratober prompts! I am happy I mixed the prompts to try to get even more creative with them!! And feel free to put him in every box!! Some old art of Jester in a box:

(I gotta finally start uploading my old art I do have. There is so much...

FEEL FREE PLEASE TO LEAVE MORE COMMENTS EVEN A SILLY ONE BUT OUGHHH I am so proud of Unheard WIshes so thank you so much <333333 Glad you could enjoy

Just remember anon that I do not know your age and the rating for Filk is Mature so please respect the ratings :]]] Ao3 tagging system is there for a reason!! However I still keep on getting opinions that Filk seems to target 16+ demographic since it's more South Park style...But still, please respect it :]

Oh sure, you are so lazy *looks at your very detailed an amazing asks* so lazy. But WAH THIS IS LIKE??? A VERY RARE CANDLECURATOR APPRECIATION??? Like I know folks see Fernator and like him but to hear you like her means so much to me ;;;;;;

And hey - life gets busy :] The fact you wanted to come again, read my story and wrote this, rewrote even god knows how many times... I will always think fondly of you.

DUDE OUGH I need to return to theories, I have so many yet to share,,, you wanting one means a lot to me :} I worked hard on the Fernator theory post so I am glad to hear you could enjoy it! I might do a pool on what people could want hehe

[Closes my eyes and tries to close yours]

I think you are very neat, 307 anon. Thank you, for being you and I hope I will see you one day again. Every ask, I worry it's also a farewell. And then - you come back. I hope you are okay out there - I hope your life, even if so busy, gives you moments of happiness and calmness.

Have a lovely day, 307 :]

[codenamehazard]

.:Wildlander 101:.

[TRIGGER WARNING FOR MENTIONS OF BLOOD, GORE, BODY HORROR, ARACHOPHOBIA, CREEPY CRAWLIES MENTIONS OF SQUIDGY BITS, GROSS SOUNDS AND VISUALS]

Chapter 38: Wildlander 101

Hey guys!

I finally found some time and energy to get a chapter out! Sometimes being sick has its perks in the form of forcing me to stay at home and sit somewhere to rest, so why not put that time to good use?

Don't worry though, I'm on the mend and back on my feet, even if I'm not 100%

Without delay, let's jump in!

I glare up at the sky and the scorching hot sun as I walk to the tent were Bear told me Mako had set up a sort of “Survival 101” class for the Wildlands, shit that I was supposed to know way before I even jumped into the jeep with them when she and Pangolin found me outside of Fracture, apparently. I had given them the report and results of the energy test thing and now they’re gonna bring in Dr. Sims to talk about next steps.

At least I’ll have something to do other than sit around with my thumb up my ass and now I can finally get some answers about what the new Great Plains is all about, no more fucking surprises… I still shudder at the thought of the Summoner and now… Those things…

I walk through the crowd as I search and I can’t help but to feel so… Strange. I’m used to people running, screaming, trying to attack me or parting like the Red Sea when I walk around, even when I’m not flexing my power or making a show of force, but here? People just walk by and I slip right in like I was just another person. It’s weird, but I’d be lying if I didn’t say it was a… Nice change of pace. Nice to move among people without someone trying to throw rocks at me or scream when I do so much as ask a question.

I soon find the tent and I take a deep breath. It's been years since I was anywhere near anything that resembled a classroom and I’m not looking forward to being reminded of my high-school or college years in tent form, but this is something that needs to be done. Especially if I want to no longer be blindsided by whatever horrors are still out there. So I brace myself and step inside.

Instead of desks, there were picnic tables. Instead of those uncomfortable ass chairs, there were camping chairs, logs and even some beanbag chairs and… Is that a pull up bar?

Okay, less classroom, more circus summer camp. Not what I was expecting… Probably should have though, this entire place is a damn circus. Still, better than a classroom.

I look around a bit more and I see a projector pointing at the white wall of the tent as well as books, pictures, slides and so one scattered about on one of the tables. I grab one of the logs and pull it up to sit down. Just as I do, Mako walks in.

“Oh! Hey Cole!” Mako greets. “Glad you could make it.” I nod my head in acknowledgement after sitting down. “Well, this has been long overdue, something we’ve talked about before. Several times in fact.” I remind her with a firm tone. “I’m hoping with this “Wildlander 101” class, we won’t be having this issue anymore.” A spark flickers off of my arms, a subtle warning that I was done being kept in the dark.

“Okay! Okay!” Mako utters, putting her hands up. “Yes, this will go over everything you need to know about life in the Wildlands from A to Z. No more blindsiding.”

“Good.” I growl with a glare. “I’ve been more patient with you than most, but even that’s wearing thin.” Mako sighs softly before nodding. “Like I said, this will go over everything.” The tension lingers as Mako pulls up the first slides: talking about the Warped, Corrodium, the dangers of using powers in areas known for high Warped Activity, the buddy system… Shit I already know because of incidents in the past. I try my best not to interrupt, but the pins and needles in my arms and legs from inactivity are starting to drive me up a wall and I just want to get this shit over with.

“Yeah-yeah-yeah. I know this shit already.” I finally snap, waving my hand dismissively. “Why don’t you actually tell me something I don’t know.” I pause for a moment before the perfect question pops up into my head. “Like what in the name of God are those squishy centipede things?” That question gave Mako a look like she’s about to gag. I don’t blame her.

“Why did that have to be the first question you ask?” Mako groans before shuddering again, I shrug while she collects herself. “So those bastards are technically called “ticks” around here, but Kes and I call them “facehuggers from Hell.”” I try to suppress a snort. She ain’t wrong about that.

“Those things… They’re pretty much another way a human can become a Warped and I mean any human. Conduit or not.” My face turns a pale that’s sicklier than the pale it was back in Empire. Those squiggy centipedes can infect normal humans too?! Turn them into zombies?! Christ in a handbasket, as if shit couldn’t get worse. “They either try and cram their way down your throat or they try and burrow into your back, regardless of how they get in, they’ll attach to your spine and corrupt you from the inside out and if you happen to have a Conduit Gland, then they’ll eat that too before replacing it.” My mind spins at the mental images in my head, the memories of the video I watched, then the thought of those poor bastards having these “ticks” shove their way into their bodies and they turn them into zombies and God knows what else, it was starting to make me ill. And that’s saying something as I’ve don’t my fair share of fucked up things just for shits and giggles.

Mercifully, as the words replay in my head, something stands out… Something that sounds fucking stupid if I’m to be frank. “Woah, woah, woah. Back the damn truck up. The hell’s a Conduit Gland?!” I question as I narrow my eyes at the Shark. “You pulling shit out of your ass?”

Mako sighs softly. “No I’m not, Cole.” She mutters. “There’s no official scientific name for it, at least not that we know of, but the Medical Council of Tri-Point as well as other medical communities among the Wildlander conclaves have discovered a gland near the spinal cord and that it’s connected to a Conduit’s power, though how is still being researched.” A memory flickers in my mind before I let out a quick radar pulse, the familiar sight of the bright yellow cluster near her spine glows in my mind’s eye. So that’s what that is.

“Basically, those Ticks are what becomes a Warped’s Conduit gland after death, they-”

“Yeah-yeah, Dr. Funshine Bear showed me that bit of nightmare fuel.” I cut her off gruffly before she can continue. My head starting to hurt and my stomach starting to do backflips. “As much as I love to finally be in the loop about this shit for once, I think I need to give my brain a break.” I mutter out. Mako nods rapidly.

“Good call.” She agrees. “We’ll pick up later, lest we both end up losing our lunches over those… Things.” She shudders as she spits out the last word. “It’s not like we’re in much of a hurry anyways. The convoy ain’t mobilizing until Pangolin’s fully recovered and your Amp is fixed up.”

We both exchange a quick nod before I head outside to go find the nearest water fountain so I can splash some cold water on my face.

I know a situation is several shades of fucked if I’m chosing the stinging of sparks on my face over my stomach threatening to pull the eject button.

[anthonybialy]

The Upside of Nostalgia with Lindy Ruff

I knew that name sounded familiar.  Lindy Ruff is a throwback in multiple senses.  The era conforms with the mentality.  The Buffalo Sabres have regressed as the years have advanced.  There’s never been a better time to indulge in the comfort of recognition.  My favorite part of any Star Wars movies since the original trilogy was the AT-ATs.

If there’s going to be a nostalgia hire, make it this one.  Living in the past is fine if it means bringing back memories of the last time the Sabres made the playoffs.  Ruff didn’t just engineer better records than this team’s grown accustomed to over the time since he stopped working for them: he may still possess the skills to make it happen.

I’m thrilled Devils fans made their best hope the scapegoat.  Then again, I’m a Sabres fan.  Newark’s franchise should’ve found a different goat to scape in their sacrifice to their mascot.  The lack of defensive options would’ve doomed Toe Blake.  New Jersey can’t take it back.

Blaming the coach for the Devils having NHL goalies in name only is a special way to confirm that life is unfair.  Fans may as well get on Josh Allen’s case for not drafting a speedy receiver.

A good leader takes responsibility for what happens on his watch.  A bad one does, too, although by imposition.  New Jersey fans question whether he did enough structurally.  And they dislike the Ramones because Johnny didn’t solo.  Let’s emphasize what we’re good at in the sequel coach’s honor.  Ruff’s focus is on getting the most out of his roster by tailoring strategy to who’s available.  His system is to change his.  Impugning emphasizes the point.

Ruff is apparently supposed to feel guilt based on the crime of having good players.  Detractors still vainly try to tape an asterisk to his name because he’s been successful when he’s had better goalies.  Coaches have some nerve using Dominik Hasek and Ryan Miller if they’re available.  Casey Stengel should’ve felt bad for managing all those other people with numbers retired by the Yankees.

I’m looking for a coach who’ll yell at everyone.  It will be on fans’ behalf.  The cathartic wish to scold anyone paid to wear a Sabres jersey could carry the added benefit of consistently dedicated play from players who don’t want to face wrath.  If there’s a roster that deserves to get berated, it’s this one.

The new old guy employs the strategy of being sick of everything going on.  Ruff could be cast as police captain.  He’s had enough of this.  

Timing is everything, like how the Sabres forget to be good until the playoffs are out of reach.  They finally got it down during the offseason by waiting for the Devils to fire Ruff before they made a canning of their own.  Don Granato was once an NHL head coach.  It will always technically be true thanks to a club that’s using him as their rock bottom.

Terry Pegula hiring the only option he recognizes shows how limited knowledge can pay off.  It’s rather rare, as seen by the rest of his godforsaken tenure ruining a team some of us used to enjoy.  But hiring one of the few NHL coaches he knows by name might work out.  Ruff is sure better than every other addition Pegula’s made, even if that’s a paltry accomplishment along the lines of best season missing the playoffs.

The owner vaguely remembers once firing this guy.  It was either before or after he fled to Florida.  It turns out he still owns the hockey team.  The canning nothing personal, which is the lone thing he knows about business.  Someone’s performance can diminish over time with the same company.  Meanwhile, the aspects that made him successful remain intrinsic to his personality even factoring in his initial tenure ending as the roster declined.

This remains the right time to bring back Ruff even if only to show hard feelings shouldn’t infringe on the future.  Sabres fans should acquaint themselves with the Billy Martin principle regardless of whether they view the Yankees as Buffalo’s semi-hometown team or the Bronx’s Death Star.

To confirm, he’ll be behind the bench.  The biggest question was if this was the job he would take.  It was natural to wonder if he would’ve been hired for some sort of executive role.  He could get a promotion after a couple years if he were able to get this unfortunate franchise back on the right track. 

Executive Ruff would have less work to do if he moved from behind the bench around 2028.  A president of hockey operations-type job would mean another salary for an owner who already doesn’t want to pay a new coach.  But someone who knows what he’s doing might bring in enough revenue to justify payment.  It’s never too late for Pegula to learn business.

Sabres fans are experiencing a peculiar sensation.  I vaguely remember it as hope.  There’s genuine excitement around a semipermanent outcast for the first time in awhile.  Experiencing offseason thrills comes not just from knowing the name.

The assuagement of streaming reboots shields from the trepidation brought by the unknown.  But indulging in sentimentality can be beneficial.  In this case, bringing back the last good coach could lead to more than reminiscing.

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

Thank you, honestly that made me cry a little...

When I was younger I tried to ignore when someone asked me how I'm doing or tried to change the topic without giving an answer, now just like you said I think it's a reflex to say that I'm good and quickly avert attention from me to others

And I guess I'm not that good? I was supposed to have an evening shift at work today, but about two hours before that they called me and asked if I could come for the night shift instead and I agreed... I normally don't do them, it's not like I don't like them or can't do them, honestly they are kinda nice - it's just more quiet and less stressful at night, but I learned that my brain is much meaner at night, especially when I'm alone... and during the few night shifts that I had there were moments where I needed to stop everything and just focus on not crying, so I'm not looking forward to that...

And after I got that information about shifts changing, I didn't do anything... I just stayed in bed all day (basically I was in and out of sleep for 5 hours) and it just feels like I wasted a whole day and I know tomorrow will be the same because always after a night shift I sleep till like 3 or 4 pm

Sorry for dumping this on you...

And thank you for such a kind answer and for asking 💕

first of all, you’re not “dumping” this on me, i asked. and even if i didn’t, i still wouldn’t look at it that way, i would just think that you’re super strong for opening up and looking inward, even if it’s just to little old me, a complete stranger on the internet.

my brain gets weird at night as well. always has and probably always will. it’s like, both because i am tired as well as the lack of sunlight and stuff that does psychologically to a person, that im just a lot more open, susceptible and fragile and it’s harder not to get knocked down by something. it’s so much of a thing for me that i’ve over the years set rules for myself in order to make the evenings and the nights better so that i get as good a night of sleep that i can (because sleep is incredible and has so much power over your brain and the chemicals zooming throughout your body it’s wild).

i don’t know what it is your job entails, but maybe there is something you could do in those situations to make it easier? something that could distract you, like maybe listen to something (music, podcast, audiobook). or maybe even something as “small” as making sure you’re comfortable, wearing something that doesn’t feel ew (of course unless you wear a uniform, in that case, maybe comfy shoes? unless they’re a part of it too). also maybe having a little thing you can fiddle with in your pocket. might sound like a tiny thing, but that’s something i did most of the years i went to school, i think since i was around 14 and the therapist i was talking to back then gave me a very smooth rock from her office for me to hold in my hand while doing something bad i had to do. i think she gave it to me to help remind me of some of the good things we went over, but i personally find that having a little thing in my palm (later it became fidget toys) can help ground me, help my nervous system a tiny bit (because sometimes you just need a tiny bit to get through to the other side), and help me not unconsciously do some of the bad coping mechanisms my body has a habit of doing (an example could be chewing on the inside of my cheek). maybe it could also be something as small as bringing some yummy snacks with you! lots of the relatively small things can really add up, that’s often how i got through exams. and at the end of the day, it has really helped me to hold onto this and it might help you as well: you are an adult, if it gets too much then you can always just get up and leave. you always have the power to just go.

and one last thing, i don’t personally think that you wasted your whole day away. you did what your body needed you to do, rest before and after something turbulent. how is that a waste? i don’t think it is. i think its great, i think its productive. you did what your body told you it needed instead of powering through in a way that would properly make the night even worse and then cause you to need more time to recover. 

[moon--mama]

Okay, pardon my rambling in advance. I pulled evidence from CC and refer to ACOTAR throughout this analysis. I have not read TOG yet—perhaps there is something I’m missing.

Thurr is a planet the Asteri visited and destroyed.

In CC2, chapter 38, we get this: “Bryce set the question aside as one of the planets carved in the door—the five-ringed behemoth that was Thurr—swung away, revealing a pale gray eye.”

It’s a very large planet, with five “rings” in its orbit.

Chapter 73, we learn:

“And Project Thurr? Why was Danika so interested in that?”

“Thurr was the last time someone got as far as Danika did in learning about us. It didn’t end well for them. I suppose she wanted to learn from their mistakes before acting.”

The use of “someone” implies that only one person learned the truth, which would suggest that Thurr was an individual god. But then the use of “them” and “their” seems intentionally ambiguous. It could be intentionally obscuring male or female pronouns, in support of this “lady Thor” theory, but it could also suggest that one person’s discovery led to the destruction of all the people from planet Thurr.

In Chapter 8, we get our Earth-confirmation that Thurr is 100% referring to Thor. Bryce explains that Thurr was “Basically a broody male who was supposed to pass for the nearly forgotten minor storm deity. All that remained of him in their culture was the behemoth of a planet named after him. And Thursdays, apparently.”

But Bryce’s culture was constructed carefully by the Asteri. The existence of the bust, and its questionable history, suggests that Thurr has not been forgotten. His storm powers, and his blacksmith abilities, sound awfully similar to some of the rare powers of High Lords in Prythian. It makes me think that he was likely the leader or ruler of his planet, and the Asteri want people in Midgard to think that he and his people no longer exist.

Bryce also says that the bust of Thurr came from Rhodinia. There is no other mention of this country in the novel. Jesiba knows people there, so it’s evidently still a functioning country. But if Jesiba is the only contact Bryce might have with that land, perhaps it’s not a functioning place any more. Alternately Bryce could have been feeling lazy about trying to find a contact.

The Thor-like imagery that Ember compares to Hunt appears in chapter 1.

“On it, a powerful Fae male stood poised above an anvil, hammer raised skyward in one fist, lightning cracking from the skies, filling the hammer, and flowing down toward the object of the hammer’s intended blow: a sword.

Its label read simply: Unknown sculptor. Palmira, circa 125 V.E.”

Palmira isn’t mentioned again in the series. Since it’s so close to the rift opening, 17000 years previously, we’re meant to assume that it was a city lost in the 15000 year old conflict between Hel and the Asteri (ended when Theia closed the rift between worlds).

Was Palmira a city on Thurr? It’s possible that someone brought this item with them from their home world. 125 years is a very short time in the lifespan of any creature in the series (aside from humans). Perhaps Bryce, like other Midgardians, sees the names of unknown cities and assumes they were destroyed in the wars. Maybe they’re not realizing that these cities existed (or still exist) in other worlds.

But it’s also not escaped my notice that Thurr the planet they’ve named after this being is very large. In our solar system, the largest planet is Jupiter, which is also named after a storm god who wields lightening. Incidentally, he’s also King of the Gods. I think that implies that characters associated with this lightening power are a tier above the rest, at least.

So here’s my theory:

The rift originally connected the worlds, because the Asteri were using it to bring all the magical races to Midgard for feasting.

Thurr was a world of its own, with its own cities and hierarchies and such. Its magical race’s power dealt with energy, and Hunt and the Thunderbirds are descendants from that race.

The person depicted in the frieze is one of Hunt’s ancestors, who had the power to forge magical weapons. That’s why Ember says they look similar. He was from the planet Thurr, which was trading with Prythian through the rift. This is the reason that magical weapons are rare in Prythian—no one in that world has the ability to forge them.

In earth mythology, the magical blacksmith is the child of Jupiter and Juno (or Zeus and Hera). What if in the SJM universe, this Thurr god is analogous with Zeus and the Mother is analogous with Hera? It would explain why the blacksmithing power is so rare—in mythology, they only had one child together. Meanwhile, Zeus went off and fathered all kinds of other gods. Perhaps the idea here is that the Mother created all these other magical races, while Thurr only created one.

The blacksmith of Thurr would have been in contact with Theia, as he gave her husband Fionn the sword Gwydion (and Azriel’s dagger Truth Seeker). When Thurr the planet learned the truth about the asteri, they could have tipped off Theia or Hel and told them to close the rift. Perhaps they began an uprising immediately against the Asteri, who began wiping them out or destroying their world before they could warn the other races. Maybe Thurr gave Hel only some of the information, which is why the Princes haven’t just blabbed it to people in Midgard all along. It seems like Bryce is the first to know the whole truth.

Closing the rift suddenly shut the portals between the worlds, trapping beings from other worlds in other places. In Prythian alone, we know that beings like Amren and the Bone Carver were trapped. It’s likely the Illyrian race comes from one of the layers of Hel (based on Bryce’s reaction to Azriel, describing him as a demon). Some of the Thurrian people could have been trapped in Hel or the Asteri dungeons.

Alternately, the Asteri know that Thurr is cut off—and perhaps they began destroying it before Theia closed the rift. It might be uninhabited now. Thunderbirds are likely the remnants of the Thurrians who had already assimilated into Midgard before the rift closed. The Asteri, being greedy, let them into Midgard before they realized that Thurr’s magic could sense their feeding. So they hunted the Thunderbirds to destroy their ability to sense the truth about the Asteri.

Hunt, being half-Angel (beings created by the Asteri to enforce their rule), and half [thunderbird? THURRIAN?] has different abilities. The question is really who his father was and how he was “bred.” If Hel has been pushing through the rift into Midgard for centuries, perhaps one of the Thurrian people was trapped in Hel when the rift closed. Perhaps Apollion was suggesting that the Asteri intentionally created Hunt as a weapon against Hel, breeding in the race that they considered the most powerful. Perhaps both Hel and the Asteri are weak against lightening-types.

Nesta and the Cauldron

Okay, so taking this thing full circle. If the cauldron and the Mother are responsible for creating all magical life, then the Archeron sisters have a connection to the Mother that no beings in history have ever experienced. That’s why the Mother was speaking directly to Nesta throughout Silver Flames.

What if Nesta’s power was that Thurrian magic? It would explain why Rhysand hates her on sight, if her lightening magic is something that Illyrians are weak against. It’s also why Amren isn’t quite sure what Nesta’s magic is, since she was trapped in Prythian when the rift closed. What Nesta “took” from the cauldron was that ability to forge magical weapons, which was previously limited only to the blacksmith of Thurr. It would align with the idea that Nesta has become a female Thor—but that was what she Made herself. I think she’s something slightly different though, since she’s associated with Death so often.

I think the cauldron has the ability to “unmake” the Asteri, but our current cast of characters isn’t able to direct its power. Feyre, Nesta, Bryce, and Elain might be the keys to accessing that power. Since all of them “took power” and became something else, they have a connection to the Mother’s ability to Make things. But it’s dangerous—when Feyre used the cauldron in ACOWAR, it pretty much killed Rhysand and Amren. The leading ladies might need the fully assembled Dread Trove to direct the cauldron’s power.

Perhaps Nesta is the Supreme Power, who will figure out how to use the cauldron to unMake the Asteri. But I’m betting on Elain, who has been hovering in the background the whole series. With her propensity for growing things, I bet that she will somehow use the cauldron to Make the Asteri into something else. They’ll become seeds that give back to the universe—a poetic happy ending that SJM seems prone to writing.

Nesta Archeron is Thurr - God of Lightning.

ACOTAR and Crescent City 2 spoilers!

[Disclaimer: This theory aligns with the thinking that the ACOTAR, CC and TOG worlds are not existing on the same timeline. I understand that Aelin flew past Prythian, and that SJM has recently spoken about this matter, but I have addressed that (and all other evidence) here! There's so many ways a non-linear timeline could work (and I've already posted a few theories with different variations), but the most basic is that Throne of Glass is occurring in the past, ACOTAR is the present, and Crescent City is the future. So, at the end of HOSAB, Bryce has gone back in time.]

Now, let's get into it!

---

Nesta's powers.

As of ACOSF, we are made to believe that Nesta has given up her powers (or most of them, anyway). But, what if she doesn't need them...?

Instead, Nesta has the Harp, the Mask, and the Crown. She has the Dread Trove.

Even though Mor tries to hide the Dread Trove at the end of ACOSF, the book concludes with this important passage:

"I got a crown of my own, don't worry" Nesta said, even as she knew that Mor was now winnowing all three objects of the Trove back to the place Nesta had taken them from. She'd summoned them, working around Helion's spells. No spell could ever keep them from her - Briallyn had spoken true about that."

To me, SJM is making clear that Nesta's connection - and use - of the Dread Trove is far from over.

The Horn.

In ACOSF, it is also suggested that there is a 4th Dread Trove item (made of "age-worn born"). It seems to be popular consensus among CC and ACOTAR readers that this missing item is the Horn; the object tattooed into Bryce's back.

With this in mind, it is then worth noting that the Horn, when wielded at full power, can do anything. It can even allow someone to establish themselves as an Asteri.

Thus, if the Horn is part of the Dread Trove, then logic suggests that the other Dread Trove items - of which Nesta can control and summon - would have that exact same power.

And it makes you think; if one Dread Trove item, such as the Horn, can allow someone to establish themselves as an Asteri... what can three Dread Trove items do...?

Three items that Nesta can wield to their full power...

This gives Nesta... almost God-like power.

The Crown.

One particular Dread Trove item is of notable interest for this theory - and that is the Crown. Towards the end of ACOSF, readers are informed that the Crown can harness and manipulate the power of weather - bending it to the users will:

I now want to point out some interesting parallels between Nesta - and storms.

For starters, there are multiple occasions where SJM describes Nesta using "storm" imagery:

Stating that Nesta dances like a "night storm"

Nesta's rage is often likened to a "storm"

And Nesta even describes herself as a "storm cloud"

But perhaps the most salient example, is when Nesta comes face-to-face with Tamlin.

As Nesta starts to feel her rage - to threaten Tamlin with her wrath - thunder starts to grumble in the sky.

Then, in that final battle on Ramiel, where Nesta faces off with Bellius - lightning is mentioned multiple times (more times than what the below screenshot conveys!)

In fact, Sarah's use of thunder and lightning in this scene was so overt, that many readers started thinking about Thurr - the storm deity mentioned in Crescent City 2 (who presumably could wield thunder and lightning). As a result, many theories started popping up about Thurr's connection to Ramiel and the Illyrians (that maybe Thurr was even an Illyrian himself!)

However, what if the thunder and lightning had nothing to do with the Illyrians... but Nesta instead.

And dare I say it... what if Nesta IS Thurr?

And, in future books, through the use of the Dread Trove - most notably the Crown... what if Nesta will harness the power and lightning and thunder?

Thurr.

We are first introduced to Thurr in the very first chapter of Crescent City 2 - Bryce notices a statue of a fae male using a hammer - lightning is cracking, and he is forging a sword.

"On it, a powerful Fae male stood poised above an anvil, hammer raised skyward in one fist, lightning cracking down from the skies, filling the hammer, and flowing down toward the object of the hammer's intended blow: a sword."

Now, who is the only other character in the SJM universe who also raises a hammer, and forges a sword - in the exact same manner?

Nesta.

"Nesta's arm arched above her, the hammer gripped in her clenched fingers. It was a dance, each of her movements timed to the ringing echo of the hammer on the blade. She pounded the sword to a music no one but she could hear."

And, is it then any coincidence that the swords Nesta created emitted "iridescent sparks" and "crackling magic"....?

Which, is also the exact same description of the Starsword when Hunt filled it with his lightning...?

However, you're probably thinking: "But Thurr was a man!"

You've also probably picked up on Thurr sounding just like Thor - the Norse God of thunder and lightning - and also a man.

But, what if history got it wrong...?

What if Thurr was instead a woman?

Because, when you look at SJM's Pinterest board for Twilight of the Gods (her rumoured next series...)

A little closer...

That's LADY THOR!

And, you can't tell me that Nesta as Lady Thor - or rather, Thurr - isn't so damn fitting (especially if we get a scene where she's leading the Valkyries into war...)

Ancestry.

Going back to that statue of Thurr, it was rather interesting that Bryce's father (Randall) likened it to Hunt - to which Bryce then joked that the statue was a "long lost relative" of Hunt's.

We know Hunt has similar lightning and thunder powers. They must have originated from somewhere, but strangely... no other character in the SJM universe possesses such power.

Unless, they haven't possessed it... yet. Given that this theory operates on the different timeline hypothesis; what if we are yet to see Nesta wield these powers, achieve her status as Thurr - and her (and Cassian's) descendant is Hunt?

Although, it is rather interesting that Hunt is said to look exactly like the statues of Thurr. If Nesta was Thurr - but this detail was twisted throughout history, replacing her with a man - what if the figure people currently know as Thurr, is Nesta and Cassian's son instead?

Is that who Hunt descends from...? (Or, could he be his father...?)

I mean... many readers have commented on the likeness between Hunt and Cassian.

And, let's not forget that Nesta and Cassian's bargain tattoo was an eight-pointed star - the symbol of the Starborn fae.

We also know that "Project Thurr," the Dusk Court, and the Starborn are seemingly all connected...

So, although it's crazy to think about, perhaps it's not out of the realm of possibility.

I'll guess we'll have to wait and see! ⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️

[cellias]

scary visions and uneasy acquaintances (ii)

leo valdez x child of apollo!reader

warnings: bad spirits, talks about a toilet seat

summary: leo is approached by the person who seems to dislike him the most out of the other six. but now it seems they were in for a longer ride together than they anticipated—or wanted—and they still can’t this kind-of-friendship thing right.

word count: 3.3k

It was past dinner time, but only one thing sounded really good right about now. Sleep.

He didn’t want to admit it, but Leo was getting sleepier by the minute. He’d be communicating with Festus and then his eyes would get heavy, and his arms would feel weak, and the darkness of his eyelids became so inviting…but no. He had a job to do. He couldn’t waste time like that.

Everyone on the ship had retreated to their bedrooms after working a little more with food in their system, and Leo welcomed the familiar silence that came at that hour. All he could hear was the calm movement of the ocean, the rumbling noise of the engine, and whoosh of the wind on the sail, and the occasional creak from his machines. These nights felt like the eye of a hurricane.

The only problem was he barely slept during the past few nights. This had some annoying consequences, like killer headaches and an overwhelming urge to just lay his head on the table for a few second-like hours. And he almost did, had it not been for the footsteps he heard approaching the room. He frowned. Coach Hedge would barge in sometimes, but these steps didn’t sound like his hooves.

It didn’t really matter anyway, because the person had arrived rather quickly. There was a knock on the door. His conscious state was being prodded awake once more.

“Who’s there?” He called, sliding a hammer out of his belt. You know, just in case.

“Y/n.”

Oh. The hammer went back in. “Y/n who?”

“Y/n, the person who’s going to throw you off this ship if you don’t open the door right now.”

He opened the door.

The sight of you was marvelous to behold. Messy hair, grumpy face, mismatched socks, and decked out in sun printed pajamas. He wished he had a camera. He’d hang the picture on his wall and caption it: Fashion’s Newest Muse, Renowned Child of Apollo. Maybe the name needed some work.

You look him up and down. “May I come in?”

“That’s what you’re supposed to ask before you threaten me.”

You stared.

“Yeah, alright.” He steps aside to let you in. “So what brings you to my man cave?” He watches the back of your head as you examine the room with intrigue.

You snort. “Right, your man cave.” You turned to him. “We need to talk.”

Leo looked around. “You? With me?”

“Yes, you,” you said, exasperated. “With me.”

He wandered to his chair and spun once, then sat up straight to look at you. He motioned to the other chair beside him. It was Annabeth’s honorary co-captain chair, and it was obvious by the little mess of papers with neat and chaotic writing scribbled on them from earlier that day. He could never write that much in one sitting. You moved to sit down after he picked up the papers.

“Well,” he started, “what did you want to talk about?” If he was being honest, he was a little nervous. Most of the others didn’t visit the room often, especially not at night, and especially not you.

You started to lose the straight look on your face, some anxiousness peeking through. He kind of liked it, knowing you got nervous too.

“I just, um, the thing is… how do I start this?”

He watched patiently, amusement painting his features.

“I had a dream.”

You looked at him expectantly. He didn’t really know what you wanted him to think of that. “Huh. Do you need to, like, vent?” He asked awkwardly.

You rubbed your forehead with the palm of your hand. “No, it’s that—” you paused and squinted. “Is it me or did it just get dimmer in here?”

“Oh, yeah sorry,” Leo grinned sheepishly and the lights flickered, releasing a brighter light. “It changes based on what my eyes are comfortable with.”

You looked upset at that. “Well, then change it back.”

“But I thought you…”

“No, I don’t care. Change it to whatever is comfortable. You’re gonna need it when I tell you my dream.” Leo was wary to change it back. For good measure, he manually changed the lighting to a good balance of light and darkness that wasn’t too harsh on his sleepy eyes.

“Alright, there. So what about this dream? And why are you telling me about it?”

You seemed to be psyching yourself up before you opened your mouth. “Okay. Lately I’ve been having trouble sleeping. I thought this was because—” you stopped yourself and contemplated your next words. “Well, I didn’t know what to think. But right after we came back from that whole thing with Narcissus, falling asleep was easier than it had been in weeks. I thought, maybe it’s because I was so drained. But I’ve gone a day or two fighting monsters with no sleep,” you looked uneasy, like what you were saying was embarrassing, “and so I know this wasn’t normal. But then my dream happened. It wasn’t like anything I’ve dreamt before. It was different.”

Leo pondered your words as you paused to recollect your thoughts. He was still sort of confused. Why would you come to him about this? It was probably smarter to go to Annabeth, or Percy, or literally anybody else who had more experience than him. They could probably help interpret.

“I was myself, of course. No weird spectator thing, or feeling like you’re in another body, you know?” He nodded. “I was me. It was really dark at first. I couldn’t see anything, it looked more like a black endless space than a room or anything. And I could feel something swirling around me, getting really close, but not touching me. Even when they whispered it was like they were looking the other way so their breath wouldn’t hit my face. And then they were moving away, and I felt this feeling wash over me, like I was being hugged, or something. I had closed my eyes when an orange light started to appear — you know when you’re facing the sun or a light and your eyes are closed, so you see reddish orange?”

“Oh yeah, of course.”

“It was that. So I opened my eyes and,” you looked at his eyes intensely, “this is where it gets weird. You were there.”

Leo raised an eyebrow.

“Not just that. You weren’t actually there,” you added, as if that made sense.

“I think I could’ve told you that.”

“No, I mean, there was nothing in front of me. There was just this really loud presence, like someone was standing right in front of me. I don’t know how, but the first thing that came to my mind was you. I just know it was. I did some thinking over dinner, and I think…”

Leo put his hands up. “Wait, wait, wait.”

You stared at him with wide eyes.

“What you’re saying is, you had a dream in the dark with weird spirits around you, and one of them happened to be me?”

“Yeah, but I also—”

“What if you’re just, I don’t know, scared of me?” You frowned at that, but he smiled slyly and continued before you could argue, “Or you were just thinking about me a little too much before your nap?”

He watched you bury your head in your hands. “Oh my gods, no!” You looked up, and he was met with an attempt at a glare and an almost successfully suppressed smile. Almost.

“Yeah, you were! I can tell.” He lifted a hand and felt your cheek. “You’re all warm.”

You pulled away in embarrassment. “Okay, yeah I was. I was thinking about how you’re going to go missing next time you leave the toilet seat up.”

He put a hand over his heart. “I told you guys it was Jason!”

You scoffed in disbelief. “Jason would never do that. He’s too Jason.”

“The boy was raised by wolves, Y/N.”

You laughed at his deadpan expression. “Fair point.”

He opened his mouth to say something, probably something about how he had never heard you laugh like that around him, or how your smile was really nice, or how you seemed to be glowing, or how your laugh sounded like music. But he stopped himself. He couldn’t say that stuff. It was weird.

“Uh, sorry,” he said instead.

“For what?”

“You were going to say something earlier and I interrupted.”

You seemed to be thinking for a second or two, before you realized. “Oh, that. I think the dream has something to do with the future. Near or far, I don’t know, but most likely far. You were different. Like you didn’t have the same presence as you do right now, but it was still obviously you.”

“Why can’t it just be a random dream?”

“We’re demigods. And anyway, most Apollo children have some degree of foresight as an ability. I’ve never willingly tapped into mine, so I don’t really know its extent. But in the dream it felt like it was working stronger than it ever had.”

Leo hummed. “You Apollo kids sure have a lot of gifts. Now I’m kind of jealous.”

“I can manipulate light and music, you can make anything with scrap metal and create fire with your willpower, and you’re jealous?”

“Pretty much.”

“You’re impossible.” You rolled your eyes but then your face dropped again. “Valdez,” you started timidly. “I’m worried. This was a real vision. But where in the world would it be that dark? And why couldn't I see you? It’s too many factors going into this one event, and it feels like it’s less than the sum of its parts, but I know it’s not. It wasn’t just dark, it felt like…the world was caved in. It didn’t make sense.”

He twisted a screwdriver that appeared out of nowhere. You were right, it didn’t make sense. He thought back to the prophecy. After a beat of silent thinking, he murmured in a volume you almost didn’t hear.

“To storm or fire the world must fall.”

You rubbed your hands together nervously. “Do you think that’s it?”

“The world felt like it was caved in. All you could feel was my presence after the spirits left.” He shuddered. He hadn’t seen the dream himself, but the thought scared him. “You tell me.”

“It would match up. But why not show the others? It doesn’t make sense to only be me and you.” You glanced at him and looked back at grey pipe parts that protruded out of the wall, the highlights gleaming white in the lighting.

“I agree. But I mean, if the others aren’t there, and the world ‘fell’…” he trailed off, but you didn’t need him to complete his sentence.

You shook your head indignantly. “Prophecies can’t be changed, but they don’t have to mean what they sound like. We won’t fail. I don’t need foresight to know that.”

“We’re going against Mother Nature.”

“That sucks for her.” You sat up straighter, a fire lit in your eyes, like you weren’t talking about the first entity on Earth.

His eyes stuck on your stance. For once, he was seeing the Y/N that Annabeth and the other campers had told him about. It was like meeting an entirely new person.

You stuck out your hand. “Okay, Valdez. I don’t like this, but if it comes down to it… I suppose I’m alright with sharing the burden of the end of the world with you.”

He huffed but shook your hand. “Okay, Y/L/N, I guess I’d be okay with that too.”

You stood up to leave after releasing him. He called out your name, stopping you. “I was being truthful, by the way. We need to start working as a team.” You faced him confusedly. “I’m not telling you to confess all your secrets. Or to be my best friend. But maybe not hating your crew mate would be good.”

“I told you already, I don’t hate you.”

“You just don’t like me.”

You nodded. “Exactly.”

“Yeah… see, no more of that is what I mean. If we could just be professional acquaintances, that’d be enough. I mean, light and fire, doesn’t it make sense?” He shifted in his seat. Why did he say that? He should’ve just let you leave. But of course his mouth didn’t agree. “I think we just got off on the wrong foot.”

“I think so too,” you said thoughtfully. “I can't just change how I feel about you, it doesn’t work like that. But I appreciate the apology.”

He went bug eyed, and blurted without thinking, “Apology? All I said was that we got off on the wrong foot.” He stopped you before you could retort. “You literally just shared your secret dream with me, anyway.”

“I told you out of necessity. It involved you, so I told you. I didn’t come to you for comfort.”

Leo examined your face and, feeling like he might be growing an ego even thinking about it, doubted your words. “So then you’re going to tell everyone else next morning?”

You avoided his eyes and crossed your arms defensively. “Um, no. They weren’t in the dream. And it would only distract them. It would just make the quest seem hopeless.”

“But it’s important. It was a vision. Shouldn’t they know?”

“No, Valdez. They’re not going to know, and that’s it. And if they do, they won’t hear it from me.” You stared threateningly. “So you better not say anything. I know it’ll be difficult with your big mouth, but if I hear a peep from you about the dream, you’re not going to see the light of day ever again.”

“Dramatic.”

“I’m serious,” you seethed, and the light bulbs glowed at an uncomfortable level. He felt dizzy and got chills, resembling the symptoms of those fevers he used to get when he was young. He shook his head to get out of it.

“So you’re asking me to lie to my friends?”

“I’m asking you to keep something to yourself. You can’t lie if there’s nothing to lie about in the first place,” you corrected.

Leo rested his head on his free hand. “Thanks for changing the wording, it really made me feel a lot better.”

You groaned and rubbed your face. “I should never have told you. Of course you’d go blabbing your mouth.”

“You can’t tell me to keep a secret as big as this from them. We need to help them anyway we can. This is a team effort, there’s a reason there’s eight demigods on this ship.”

You laughed, a sound that didn’t sound as pretty as before, one that was harsh and dry, devoid of humor. “Don’t act like this now. Like you’re not hiding things too. You’re really good at it. But the second it’s somebody’s else’s secret you’re dying to tell.”

Leo’s hand clutched his tool bag protectively when you glanced at it. “That’s different. This is the end of the world that you’re talking about.”

“It’s a vision. Do you know what that means?” You ripped yourself away from his gaze. “It means you’re not supposed to tell anybody. Telling someone will make them desperate to stop it from happening. Bad things happen when you try to change the course of fate. Worse than what you’re trying to prevent.”

Your eyes were glued to the wall behind him, as if there was a scene that matched your narration; a scene he didn’t think you’d want him to know about.

“Then why did you tell me? You just put the whole quest in danger by doing that, according to you.”

“I told you why.”

Leo stood to match your height, and partly because he was tired of sitting down. “That was complete centaur poop. ‘Because it involved you’ is the worst excuse I’ve ever heard you come up with. This involves all of us. We can work together on this. So tell me the real reason you came here at two in the morning, and maybe I’ll keep my mouth shut.”

He was afraid he’d prodded too far, because your face went sour, and you left without another word. He watched you leave, making no move to stop you or pry more. His frustration was bubbling inside himself, and it was a little frightening. Those types of feelings were reserved for a few people he knew today, and how you pulled them from him so easily wasn’t good. How he was expected to work with you, even in the face of the potential end of the world, he didn’t know.

Earlier he had thought maybe it would be okay; you, him, and Hazel had fought together that same day, and did so with little to no issues. He’d clung to you to help you, and the feeling that spread through him left him a little breathless. But he had felt a similar feeling with Hazel, the moment on the boulder. So maybe it really hadn’t been anything, and especially not to you. Here you were backpedaling on the progression to friendship that he was trying to move toward.

His leg bounced up and down and he turned to Buford at the sensation of communication coming from the table.

Leo’s face was released from the negative feelings that had twisted it. “You’re right,” he mumbled. “I can’t not try again, I guess.”

You may not be particularly fond of him, but he wouldn’t let… whatever this was, consume him or you. Eventually, you’d have to cooperate with him, and he thought the note you had both left off on didn’t really help the case more than it hurt the possibility. For a second he’d been willing to let go of his effort and let you go on distrusting him. But it could only lead to more danger. At the rate things were going so far, they were on their way to enough of that.

And contrary to popular belief among the other seven (cough, Frank, cough), his friends did matter to him. He’d been doing what he could to help, and ever since the day you’d shown up to help build the ship that day at camp, although you seemed reluctant (“I’m just here to speed up the process,” you had said), rebuilding your relationship had been top on his list.

Of course with Frank not liking him around, though he supposed that made sense — he attacked his home, after all — he’d been trying to get that guy to trust him some more. It was a little difficult with the buff baby faced dude that could turn into a dragon, but he tried. He seemed to be making just as much progress with him as he had with you. He always seemed to do something wrong.

He felt worse when he realized a small part of him was selfishly trying to prove that goddess wrong. He started to doubt his own intentions when the words she had said slid into his mind. The eighth wheel. He had begun to think all his attempts were just so he could finally feel like he fit in. Like he wasn’t the outlier on a team full of people who were supposed to relate to him, to understand him. The cold thought would make even his fire feel drained of its heat.

But he decided not to let that take over tonight, not after what had just happened. Tonight he’d…okay, he wouldn’t do anything right now. He needed a nap so bad, and all this thinking wasn’t very energy preserving. Frank and Y/N were not going to be the last things on his mind as he went to sleep. What a nightmare. But before he could think about anything else, an image of an army of men being defeated by the surprisingly loud and offensive singing of a golden tweety bird blanketed his mind in its unconsciousness. That was a vision if he’d ever seen one.

[its-karkalicious-baby]

OP you make a valid point but I want you to consider.

Sans and Reigen share a single quality that makes it entirely plausible for them to anime battle over the mantle of Sexyman:

Commitment to The Bit (TM)

people drawing sans and reigen having an anime battle… stop it.. this isn’t them… the only reason reigen ever fights people is for self defense & for his students we all know otherwise he’d haul ass and run away. meanwhile sans is lazy af and the only reason he fights the player is if you literally kill everyone in the entirety of the game. fighting isnt in their heart… the people who are drawing reigen and sans getting married should do it more though

[rafescoke]

New Girl ; Rafe Cameron

masterlist

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x reader

Summary: Just as Rafe thought his life couldn’t get any worse, a new girl moved into town. 

Warnings: Straight smut! Mentions of trauma, extreme love-hate relationship, fluff

A/N: thank you so much for 600+ followers wtf ily <33

p.s; you know the drill. . . send requests!

One thing that Rafe was sure of; he was no tour guide, or anything of the sort.

Sure, he got himself into trouble; vandalising the principal’s office and destroying school’s properties, but that was it. He didn’t try to include the part where he goes to parties to get high and wake up the next evening with a painful headache, that was more to his personal life and he believed no one in the education system could have the advantage to be mad at him for it. 

“I simply just won’t do it,” Rafe shrugged, sighing against the chair. “Look, why don’t you ask Topper to help this new kid? He’s good in class.” 

“You answered yourself, Mr. Cameron,” the counsellor sighed, placing a file on top of the table lightly. “He’s good at school work, and you’re not. That’s why we’re going with you.” 

So that was the core reason as to why Rafe was waiting impatiently for the arrival of the new student, whom he didn’t even care about to know the gender. All he wanted was to sit at the back of the school and light some joints. 

“Mr. Cameron, this is Ms. (Y/L/N).” 

Rafe took a look at her. He bit the insides of his cheeks, thinking how she didn’t even make an effort to dress properly for her first day in a new schoolz 

An oversized tee and denim shorts. Really? 

“Hi,” she smiled, extending her hands. “I’m (Y/N).” 

“Rafe,” was all he said, before handing her her timetable for the semester. 

She scanned the paper, nodding slightly and pointed at a word. When she realised how Rafe wasn’t listening, she cleared her throat. 

“What?”

“I got Biology with Mr Garcia. Where’s Room 3?” 

Rafe scooted closer next to her, and the smell of strawberry cheesecake wafted into his nostrils. He took a step back, seething. 

Who would even wear a cakey perfume? 

“Uh, that’s like, at the end of the hall?” He answered, but it was more like a question. He looked at the direction he was noting, and nodded again. “Definitely the one at the end of the hall.” 

“You really don’t care, do you?” She asked, crossing her arms. “Where’s my locker?” 

Rafe took another look at her timetable, searching for her locker number. 

372. 

He turned to look at his own locker, finding the number, and letting out an ‘oh’. “Yours just 4 lockers away from mine.” 

“Thanks.” She muttered, and Rafe sighed before fixing the left side of his bag strap dangling from his left shoulder. “Is that it? Can I go?” 

“Not so fast, Rafe,” the counsellor sighed, stopping him by his chest. “You’re supposed to stay with her for the week. Help her get around. And you’re supposed to show her around the school compound now.” 

Rafe looked up to the counsellor with a pained expression and then back to (Y/N), his chest heavy. “Fine. Let’s go. What do you call yourself again?” 

Right before lunch, Rafe stayed over in his class for a few minutes before going out to the hall. He didn’t want to see the new girl, and he didn’t feel like being her assistant anymore. 

But the world wasn’t that fair. 

(Y/N) grinned, walking towards him. “Can you show me the cafeteria?”

“How do you even know my class?” He muttered, keeping a distance between them. The last thing he ever wanted was to let the news of him being with the new girls circulating around the school, or worse, the whole island. 

“My class is directly in front of yours. We parted just now.” 

Of course she would remember that. 

. . . 

A week went by quickly, and before Rafe would know it, he didn’t see (Y/N) anymore, and he was content with it. 

Until her family decided to become neighbours with his. 

“What do you mean the (Y/L/N) bought the house next to us?” He groaned, watching as Rose and Ward prepared to greet themselves to the new family.

The last thing he wanted was to show her around the fucking island like he was some kind of a hotel worker. 

She was in a yellow sundress, and Rafe couldn’t help but notice the way her (H/C) glowed under the sunlight. She looked similar to her mother, both bringing pastries as a way to introduce themselves. 

“Hi, we just moved next door,” Mrs (Y/L/N) said, showing the Camerons her pearly white teeth. Rafe wondered if she ever got them done, because it’s not possible for a human to have such white assets. 

“Hi, welcome to Obx,” Ward gushed, accepting the pastries happily. “Rafe, take the other cake.” 

(Y/N) looked up at the sound of his name, and to Rafe’s amusement, began gritting her teeth. He took the cake with a smirk, happy that he got her all worked up. 

He would definitely have the best time of his life taunting the shit out of this girl. 

. . .

“Hey, wanna ride a boat?” 

“Topper, leave her alone,” Rafe sighed, fixing his cap so it was facing backwards. “She’s not interested.” 

(Y/N) perked up at this invitation, never actually riding a boat alone if it wasn’t during a holiday since she was originally from the city. She walked towards her neighbour’s deck, her skin illuminating the golden sunrays. 

“Sure.” 

Rafe mentally groaned, having to deal with the girl now, but he wasn’t sure if he was angry or jealous. It wasn’t him to be jealous easily, but after a week of becoming her tour guide, he guessed he deserves some kind of a credit from her. Topper didn’t do anything, but she was gladly accepting his invitation. 

Their usual stroll along the stream of the island was not like usual, since the air was now filled with the annoying chatter between (Y/N) and Topper. Rafe could never relate with them, only wanting to relax his mind and sleep it off. 

“So you’re a city girl? That’s great!” 

“Sure Tops,” Rafe wondered, smiling delightly. Anything to get into a girl’s pants. . . 

“You know what, (Y/N)?” He called from the place he was resting, and he waited a few seconds before continuing his speech. “If you’re looking for a boyfriend, Topper’s not the guy. He hasn’t moved on from his ex-girlfriend.” 

Sure, he would get a lot of shit from Topper for saying that, but he was done with the pointless flirting between them. 

“What about you?” 

Rafe opened his eyes, watching her from behind his sunglasses. He shifted his position, “What about me?” 

“Have you moved on from your ex-girlfriend?” 

Has he moved on from Kie? He wasn’t entirely sure. Their relationship was brief, but she was all Rafe had. When she decided to go all full-pogue, he knew there was nothing left of them. 

“I don’t date.” 

“I can see why,” she said, and Rafe swore he heard some kind of mirth behind her tone. 

“Have you?” 

“Moved on from an ex?” 

Rafe nodded, opening his eyes slightly. 

“I guess.” 

“Good for him.” 

“Excuse me?” She gasped, pushing him lightly. “You’re an asshole.” 

She leaned closer onto him, and for a second Rafe thought about letting her in his bubble, but he quickly shoved her away. “Watch it.” 

“I’m just trying to tell you about that fucking fly on your face.” 

“Yeah? Liar.” 

(Y/N) huffed, stomping back to Topper, and Rafe laughed silently. 

1-0.

. . .

Fuck. 

If he would’ve known about the police raid in Topper’s party, he wouldn’t have come to his house at all. But here he was; all pushed up against the metal chair of the police station, his hair messy and his eyes bloodshot. 

“We’re taking a urine test, son,” Shoupe said, sighing. “There’s always something wrong with you.”

Rafe thought about (Y/N) suddenly, and how she was probably back home and watching some kind of a rom-com. That’s totally her; all cuddled up with a pink teddy bear probably named ‘Bear-bear’, constantly wiping the tears off her face over the sad breakup scene of a movie. 

Rafe was forced to strip out of his shirt and jeans before entering the small cubicle, and having to go through this same procedure for quite a few times now, he didn’t mind giving a show to the workers. 

He quickly zipped his jeans bag, handing a female worker a cup filled to the end with his urine. He yawned, already knowing the results, so there was no use being nervous about it. 

He was picked up by an angry Ward an hour later. He groaned, getting in the car to prepare himself for the same lecture about his future and how he shouldn’t jeopardise it, but he was shocked when Ward didn’t utter a word at all. 

It was very uncomfortable, but he guessed he was just tired. 

“Good morning.” 

Rafe rubbed his eyes against the bright sunlight, feeling the pain from his head slowly soaring throughout his body. He squinted his eyes at the figure in front of him again, trying to blink the blurriness away. 

“What the fuck?” 

“Your mom told me to call for you,” (Y/N) said, looking away from him. Rafe looked down to his body, seeing his shirtless self, and laughed.

Of fucking course she would be uncomfortable with him being shirtless. 

“She’s not my mom,” he grunted, removing the covers off of him and checking his phone for the time. 

12.43p.m. 

“Fuck,” he muttered, and his eyes turned to her again. “What are you doing here again? Leave.” 

“Waiting for you.” 

“I’ll be downstairs in a few seconds,” he muttered. He didn’t need her to be some kind of maid for him. 

(Y/N) muttered some curse word, hoping that riled him up, but she would be stupid if she thought a random curse word would make him Rafe Cameron angry.

It would take a lot more to raise an expression from Rafe Cameron, and a curse word definitely wouldn’t. 

. . . 

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” 

His boat was not working, but he had just filled her up the night before. This was the newest model too, and he couldn’t afford asking Ward to fix his boat again. Not when he was caught with being on drugs from his urine test last week, and the only reason he got out of the trouble was because of Ward again. 

“Is it not working, Rafey?” 

Rafe looked up to the sound. (Y/N) was watching him with a sly grin, shielding her eyes with her hands from the sun like she was some goddamn queen that would melt from the heat. 

“What did you do to my boat?” He groaned, trying to turn the ignition again. 

“What did I do? Come on, why do you always think so bad of me? That’s kinda ru—”

Before she could continue her taunt, Rafe climbed the deck, inching closer towards her and smeling that goddamn cake smell again. 

Hell, he’ll buy her a new perfume to stop breathing in that fucking smell. 

“That’s kinda what?” He whispered. He was so close to her now, and he could hear her breath hitching. He smirked, his heart soaring. 

“You’re kinda dumb for a kook, Rafe,” she sighed. She dangled a familiar key in front of him, and when Rafe took a closer look, he noticed it was the key to his boat. 

She threw the key into the water and Rafe watched it plopped, moving straight towards the deep end. His eyes flared at her again, his chest heaving. 

“Hope you have a spare key.” 

1-1. 

. . .

That should be good, he guessed, for being in a tie with (Y/N). But he doesn’t like someone being in the same league as him, so it must be 2-1. 

And the 2 from him. 

But that was for another day, because Kiara Carrera was in front of him. He fixed his cap so it was facing backwards again, and then putting his hands into his pockets for good measure. 

“Hey,” he greeted her. She smiled at him grimly before looking back at the menu, clearly uninterested. “How’re you?” 

“I’m. . . great,” she breathed. “Why?” 

“Just asking,” he shrugged, “Do you wanna go out for some drinks sometimes? Like the old times?” 

Rafe curled his toes, waiting nervously. 

“Um, I have to check with my parents first,” she replied. “But, Rafe, you know, it’s been. . . a year.” 

“Of course,” he laughed, trying to hide the sudden emotion inside him. “I meant hanging out as a friend.” 

“Of course!” She suddenly exclaimed, “If you would bring (Y/N) with us.” 

“Oh, I don’t-”

“You don’t?” 

“I- fine. I’ll bring her with me. Is tomorrow okay?” He sighed, already foreseeing the future. 

And it’s full of shit. 

“Tomorrow.” 

. . .

“Wow, I am not going to third wheel you and someone, Rafe,” (Y/N) laughed, resting her back against her chair. 

“Please,” Rafe begged, sighing. He didn’t know how much begging he could do anymore, not when he had so many things to do. He took a deep breath again, “I’ll do anything for you back.” 

“Including hooking me up with JJ?” 

“Yes- no. No. What the fuck? Where did you even know this guy?” He expressed, his eyebrows furrowing. He was not going to let her a pull a Kie, though they weren’t dating. 

“He helps mower the lawn.” 

Of course. JJ Maybank would never pass the chance to get some money while checking out girls. 

“I’m not helping you to get together with JJ,” he sighed. “Can we go for a better option? Like Landon? He’s rich.” 

“I’m richer,” she yawned. “Okay. Fine. Topper.” 

“No,” he shook his head. “Not going to happen.” 

If she ever thought about him allowing her to date his best friend, she has to be a lot smarter than that. 

He didn’t know why he wouldn’t allow it. Maybe he was scared of Topper hurting her. 

Or maybe he just couldn’t imagine her with someone else.

“Then we have no deal,” she replied simply, gazing at her newly painted nails. She gazed at Rafe who seemed to be thinking hard from the top of her sunglasses. 

He groaned. “Fine. I’ll help you with Topper. But I’m warning you; he. Has. Not. Moved. On.” 

“Oh, he will.”

. . .

Kie was all up on Rafe.

He didn’t know what had gotten into her, because she was never this. . . strong-willed. 

Kie had her hands placed against Rafe’s chest, kissing him tenderly and sometimes running her fingers through his hair. 

Rafe sucked in a breath, watching as she part. Her mouth formed into a grin, and Rafe couldn’t help but grin back. 

“Wanna do it?” 

Did he? Of course he wanted to “do it”. He had been wanting to do so since forever. He would be crazy to say no to that invitation, and he was definitely sane. 

He looked at (Y/N), who was awkwardly perched up on the sofa, tucking her legs under her and watching some kind of a movie on her phone. Her eyes looked up to Rafe, and she quickly looked away. 

“In one of the rooms?” 

Kie seemed to look around the boat for a while, like he was looking for someone, but there were only two of them. And (Y/N). 

“Fine,” she huffed, and pulled him towards one of the rooms by his wrist. 

Kie pushed him onto the bed, and Rafe wondered how she got this side of her. Throughout their 6 months of dating, she never showed him this, so this was a bit of a shock to him. 

“Hey, hey,” Rafe gripped her wrists, holding her still. “We don’t have to rush.” 

“I want to,” she said, and leaned closer. “I thought you wanted this?” 

They began making out, his hand slipping down her back to grab her ass, only to be met with her vibrating phone in her back pocket. 

“I’ll get it,” he mumbled against the kiss, and pulled her phone out.

A picture of JJ Maybank’s smiling face right next to Kie greeted him, and his name was perched on top of the screen, signalling his call. 

Of course. She never wanted to fuck him. It was always to make someone jealous. That explained the gritted teeth Kie would make when he mentioned JJ earlier. 

He sighed, pushing her away so she ended up by his side. “I gotta go.” 

“Huh?” Kie sat up straight, looking from Rafe to her phone. She saw the caller, cleared her throat, and held up a finger to tell him to wait. 

He should’ve known. 

. . . 

Rafe never liked the annual Obx’s drive-in movie theatre, because he really didn’t get the hype of watching a mainstream movie that he had watched with Wheezie a lot of times before in his car. 

This year, it was way worse; they decided to have some kind of a horror themed drive-in movie theatre, and the best part of all; (Y/N) was going with Topper. 

Rafe groaned for the thousandth time at the rapping of a clown against his car window. He gave the clown his middle finger, telling him ‘watch it, you’re scratching my car’, and moving his attention back to the screen. 

Annabelle had disappeared from the room the two nurses had placed her in, and the volume quietened before booming again when the doll had appeared in the living room, perching on top of the sofa. 

He rolled his eyes, and took a look at (Y/N) and his best friend laying in the back part of his jeep from the rearview window. 

They were cuddling. 

“Fuck off,” he grunted, throwing his hands into the air. A human-sized Annabelle pulled on the shotgun’s door now, and Rafe gave the actor another middle finger before yelling a ‘fuck you’.

“This is ridiculous,” he said to no one in particular. He stepped out of the vehicle, knowing damn well he would be the target of the ghosts now, but he couldn’t care less. All he wanted was to step away from all of this and maybe refill his soda. 

He made his way to the back of the lot, getting his money out beforehand. Some type of a wannabe Michael Myers came up, to which he quickly put a hand up to stop him. 

“Don’t. I’m not in the mood.”

Michael Myers seemed to get him, because he left to scare someone else. 

“Refill,” he sighed, giving the worker his cup. “Coke.” 

“You mean like literal coke?” 

Rafe looked behind him, surprised to see a red-faced (Y/N) holding a popcorn bucket. He licked his teeth. “Why? Have you tried it before?” 

(Y/N) went up beside him, muttering about putting more caramel in her popcorn to the worker before looking at him. “You seem mad.” 

“I’m not.” 

“You are.” 

“That’s because you’re all up in my business,” he scoffed. He turned to look at his coke, but the worker was still filling the cup up. 

Good. Did the machine break or something? 

“Where’s the girlfriend?” She asked. She was clearly amused by his sudden tightness, but he quickly softened, as to not rile her up. 

“Where’s the fuckbud- I mean boyfriend? Sorry. It just slipped.” 

(Y/N) nodded, her mouth forming into a grin. “If you’re jealous, you can just say that.” 

“Wait, wait, of what, exactly?” 

She shrugged. 

“Yeah, exactly. No. For all I care, you guys can get married and move to fucking Antartica and have mini (Y/N)s and Christophers running around.” 

The worker placed the newly refilled coke and caramelised popcorn on the counter, and Rafe wondered why she would receive her food at the same time as his when had come here first.

He rolled his eyes, grabbing the drink and walking back towards the car. 

(Y/N) jogged to catch up with him, her popcorn bouncing against her chest. “You’re rude, do you know that?” 

“Jesus Christ, we’re still on this?” He mumbled. He was still walking, but he wanted her to catch up so he slowed down. He guessed it would be the perfect ending to his night to taunt her until she’s all worked up. 

“I just can’t think of a reason why you’re acting so fucking rude to me.” 

“Yeah? Think again.” Rafe sipped on his coke, feeling the carbonated drink sloshing down his throat. He felt content, but he wasn’t sure if it was from the coke or from the girl beside him. 

“This is—”

A nurse with a bloody front suddenly appeared before them, using some kind of a spray to maximise the size of the fire from a lighter. (Y/N) screamed, turning away from the heat, and Rafe quickly caught her before she could end up on the floor. 

“Fuck, fucking move,” he yelled to the nurse, who seemed to be satisfied with her work. Rafe turned to (Y/N), trying to check on her state. 

“Yo, yo, you good? Why are you shaking?” 

She was trembling really hard against him. She had her arms around Rafe’s neck, her popcorn splattered on the ground. She jolted when a scream came from the speaker. 

“Come on, let’s get you to the car,” he mumbled, helping her walk. She kept her face hidden in the crook of his neck, and Rafe had to try his best to balance both of the girl and the Coke in his hands back to the vehicle.

Topper was no longer in the back seat, perhaps looking for Sarah (Rafe wasn’t a bit surprised at this). He was glad his best friend wasn’t there, because the last thinf he needed was two people freaking out on him. 

“Okay, chill, I got you,” Rafe grunted, placing the Coke in the cup holder before seating the girl beside the driver’s seat. He sighed before climbing into the driver’s seat and locked the door in case some kind of a crazy maniac tried to freak her out again. 

“What’s wrong?” 

She didn’t answer, not that Rafe expected her to. She looked like she was reminded by some kind of memory, but Rafe didn’t want to dwell so much on it. 

If he could, he would reverse his car out of this lot back to their homes, but he was one of the first cars to arrive at the drive-in theatre, so it was impossible to get out. 

He sighed, placing his hands against his lap. “You can tell me, you know.” 

She finally looked up to him, and Rafe’s breath hitched from the sight of her red eyes. He softened. 

Whatever it was with that fire, it had triggered some kind of a memory in her. 

He placed a hand against her lap, but not moving so; just a splat of his hand against her soft skin. He had meant for that as comfort, but he realised how creepy the situation was. He pulled away, clearing his throat. 

So they stayed until the end of the movie, just the two of them, and Rafe was sure she wasn’t even watching the remaining parts of the movie. He pretended to watch, but he was really just staring at her the whole time. 

Will she ever let her hair down like this again? Because he liked it. 

When the movie ended and the cars were starting to move, Rafe slowly reversed the car so as to not shake her awake. But she was a light sleeper, and she woke up as soon as he hit the brakes. 

She rubbed her eyes, “Where are we going?” 

“Home,” he answered. “You’re okay?” 

She didn’t answer, and Rafe knew she wasn’t.

. . .

Two weeks after the incident, they never spoke of it again. 

Rafe tried to get an answer out, but to no avail. He didn’t get why he was trying his best to help her, because he, too, needed help. 

“Nah. I won’t invite her. If you want (Y/N) to come, then you’ll have to invite her yourself.” 

Wheezie’s shoulders slumped, “But you’re close to her!”

“I’m not, and she hates my guts,” Rafe replied honestly. Because that was the truth, right? She didn’t even want to tell him about why she was so scared of fire. 

“Invite me to what?” 

“(Y/N)!” Wheezie ran to hug her, to which (Y/N) laughed before patting her on the crown of her head. “Tell her, Rafe!” 

Is she fucking serious? 

“Tell me what?” (Y/N) looked up to Rafe strangely. 

“Wheezie wants to have a movie night, and she wants you to watch with us.” Rafe sighed, hating how he couldn’t just ignore Wheezie. She was definitely Rafe’s favourite, being so close to her brother ever since she was born. 

“Oh, is that true?” She smiled, looking at Wheezie. “Should I come and wear my best pajamas?” 

“You’re not sleeping over, your house is literally 5 minutes away. 2 if you run.” Rafe rolled his eyes. He went up to the counter to pick up a sandwich before biting into it, tasting the creamy eggs and ham. He licked his lips. 

“She can sleep with Sarah, right, (Y/N)?” 

“If she wants me too. . .” 

Rafe rolled his eyes again, “Sarah won’t be with us for tonight’s movie night. She’s starting to hang out with the pogues.” 

“Why are you so against the pogues?” (Y/N) asked, when Wheezie left to write a reminder of tonight’s event in her diary. 

“Why can’t you just shut your mouth?” He sighed. “It’s all bla bla bla bla. Can’t you see you’ll be happier without having to open your mouth every few seconds?” 

(Y/N) bit her lips, and for a second, Rafe had to look away from the look she was giving him. 

Shit. Why was he even looking away? 

She turned to go away, but was halted by Rafe’s fingers around her wrist. She groaned, turning her attention back to him. “What?” 

“You still haven’t told me about the night of the drive-in theatre.” 

“Good,” was all she said, before she went back by the sliding door to her home. 

. . .

“Rafe would be mad if he saw me watching this.” 

“It’s rom-com! And it’s totally PG-13. Trust me on this, okay? Anne Hathaway, yeah, that girl, yes, she’s going to get prettier throughout the movie.” (Y/N) smiled, popping popcorn into her mouth. 

Wheezie sighed, placing her head against (Y/N)’s shoulders and yawned. “Like what? Princess Diaries?” 

“Yes, but this is The Devil Wears Prada. You’ll love it!” 

A beam of light filled the mini movie theatre of The Camerons, signalling the late arrival of Rafe Cameron. He brought two chocolate bars, a Coke (again) and some chicken nuggets. 

“Move,” he said, motioning to Wheezie. 

“There are more seats around here!” Wheezie hissed, crossing her arms. “I’m not leaving (Y/N).” 

“You’re not leaving her, silly, you’re just scooting more to the right.” 

“What’s in it for me?” She raised a brow. 

“Nuggets?” 

She scooted to the side, giving more space for Rafe to place himself beside an annoyed (Y/N). 

Out of all 7 medium-sized sofas in the theatre, he decided to pick the one the two girls were sitting on. 

Rafe handed Wheezie the plate full of chicken nuggets, looking at (Y/N) before watching the screen. He groaned, “What’s this? Trash?” 

“A masterpiece, so shut up,” (Y/N) replied. Rafe huffed, amused, and unwrapped the chocolate bar. 

“Want some?” 

“No.” 

“Come on,” he cooed, placing the chocolate before her eyes. She grunted, pushing his hands away. 

Rafe took that as his final warning. He didn’t want to annoy her even more, knowing that she will probably not talk to him anymore. He decided to wait until half an hour later, just to taunt her again. 

“I’m going to get more popcorn,” Wheezie suddenly said after an hour into the movie. She excused herself to the kitchen, leaving the two of them alone. 

(Y/N) sighed. Great, just like how she wanted. 

“What do you want from me?” Anne Hathaway’s voice blared from the speaker, and Rafe looked at (Y/N). 

“What do you want from me?” He asked, repeating the dialogue. (Y/N) watched him from the corners of her eyes, not getting any delight from this. 

“For you to shut up.” 

“Really? That’s boring,” he sighed. “Do you want to know what I want from you?” 

“Sure.” 

“I’m thinking of a few things. Maybe you, on my lap.” 

(Y/N)’s breath hitched, but she tried her best not to look disturb. She shifted in her seating position. 

Rafe leaned closer, feeling her heat. “Your turn.” 

You know what? Fuck it.

(Y/N) turned to look at him fully in his face, leaning even closer that a part of her was practically on top of him. “Do you know what I think of you, Rafe?” 

His eyes dropped to her lips, and he swore his heartbeat quit beating. 

“I think about you, Rafe,” she whispered. “All pressed up against me in my bed, whim-”

“More popcorn!” 

(Y/N) returned to her previous position, bewildered. She fixed her hair, and her eyes were back to the screen. 

If Wheezie were to hang out with a pogue right now, Rafe wouldn’t give a fuck. 

“Well, the ending’s shitty,” Rafe exclaimed, clapping his hands. He watched as the end credits rolled, and took a look at Wheezie. 

He nudged her, sighing. “Wake up, Wheeze. Go to your room.” 

She groaned, searching for her fallen glasses. Rafe helped her to put them on, and gave her another poke. 

“I want to watch the movie.”

“The movie’s finished. It’s time to sleep. Go.” 

Wheezie groaned, muttering how it’s not fair that her brother could stay up with (Y/N) to watch more movies, but she guessed she was too tired for another round of movie anyways. 

“What’s the next pick?” 

“Horror.” 

“Nah.” 

“Why?”

“‘Cause you’re going to freak out on me again.” 

“I won’t,” she assured him. “Let’s go with Hereditary.” 

Rafe’s fingers and (Y/N)’s were almost touching. He was still bothered by her comment before Wheezie came barging in, and he was still desperate to hear her reply. 

“(Y/N)?”

“Hm?” 

“What were you trying to say?”

(Y/N) stopped watching, and looked at him. “What?” 

“About you thinking of me.” 

She blushed. “Nah.” 

“Come on,” he nudged. When she didn’t move, he tried placing his hand against her thigh. 

(Y/N) stood up suddenly, and for a second, Rafe thought he had fucked up. He watched as she went to the door, locked it, and went back to their place. 

“You locked the door.” 

“Yeah.” 

Rafe licked his lips, smirking slightly. “Ah, I see the game you’re playing.” 

“What game?” She raised a brow, only turning to the screen when a scream blared from the speaker.

“Hey, look at me.” Rafe tugged on her chin, forcing her to look at him, and his eyes actually looked into hers. He noticed the (E/C) colour of her eyes now, and he swore he had never looked at something more appealing. “Tell me.” 

She stayed quiet, not moving a muscle. 

Rafe sighed, getting impatient. He leaned closer now, this time his lips merely an inch away from her cheeks. He could feel the heat radiating from her. 

“Tell me, baby.” 

“You getting all close to me isn’t helping, Cameron,” she sighed, laying her head against the sofa. 

“Still playing hard to get?” 

“I’m not playing anything.” 

Rafe slowly placed a kiss against her temple before trailing down to her cheeks. She sucked in a breath, and Rafe smiled. 

“Still playing?” 

She nodded. 

Rafe’s lips touched hers by a bit, and she let out a moan she had been trying her very best to contain. Rafe chuckled, pulling away. 

“Still playing?”

“Shut up.” 

“That’s a yes? Or a no?”

“That’s a fuck you.” 

“Oh,” Rafe smiled. “Thought you never asked.” 

His kiss was gentle. So soft, and (Y/N) had never felt something like that before. The kiss deepened when she let out a soft moan, riling Rafe even more. 

He pulled her up onto his chest, letting her hands rest against his chest before pulling her away. Her lips were red, and there was a string of their saliva hanging from both of their lips. 

“What do you want, (Y/N)?” 

“You.” 

“Huh?” 

“You.” 

He smiled, tugging on her shirt. “Off.” 

She wasted no time to remove her shirt, exposing her new black bra she ordered online a few days before. Rafe sat back, his eyes dark. 

“Jesus Christ.” 

He kissed her neck, trailing down to her collar bones before stopping directly on her chest. His fingers fiddled with the bra clip, being so used with this already, and removed the piece of clothing with ease. 

(Y/N) instinctively covered her chest, her chest heaving. 

Rafe looked up to her, his eyes softening. “What’s wrong?” 

“Am not comfortable.” 

“Oh, that’s alright, we don’t have to do—”

“No, Rafe, I want this. I just don’t think I’m perfect enough for you.” 

Rafe let out a breath, placing a soft kiss against her stomach. She closed her eyes, throwing her head back. He guided her hands away, exposing her perky breast to the entire theatre to see. 

Rafe was glad he was the only guy present. 

“Fuck, you’re beautiful.” 

“Shut up.” 

He looked up into her eyes, wetting his lips. “I’ll do anything to fuck you right now.” 

(Y/N) grinded against him, causing a groan to escape from his throat. He held her waist in place, not wanting to trigger his release. 

“Do it,” she whispered. 

The movie became a background noise as he fumbled with her shorts, grunting when he couldn’t figure out the knot. 

He positioned himself before her, and looked up into her eyes again. Her chest was heaving, and she looked nervous. 

“You’re okay?”

“I’m a virgin.” 

Oh fuck. 

Why would she even say that? He couldn’t even contain himself anymore. 

He pushed himself into her, letting her get used to the feeling. He waited for her nod, signaling that she was okay and hadn’t changed her mind, and thrusted into her again. 

His hands stayed around her waist to guide her, watching as her mouth slightly parted as he deepened inside her. She bit her lips, her nails clawing onto his shoulders. 

“Oh my god.” 

“Fuck,” he groaned, feeling his own forehead clammy. He didn’t notice her hands that had left his shoulder. She cupped his face, placing wet kisses against his cheeks. 

“You’re so good for me, baby,” he whimpered, allowing her hands to guide his. She placed them around her breast as she rode him, and Rafe had never felt better. 

If he has to taunt and annoy her more to get into this level again, he’ll do it again. Without any hesitation.

“I’m so close, baby, fuck,” he groaned. He gave her another longing kiss, looking down to where their bodies connect, and moaned loudly. 

Just before he reached his end, he pulled her away, not wanting to plant himself into her. (Y/N) tried to wrap her fingers around his penis to which Rafe jerked at for  being so sensitive. He pulled her hands away, his chest heaving. 

“Don’t,” he grunted. His load shot out of his member, wetting the sofa underneath them, and Rafe quickly slapped his shaft against her core to get her to reach her end. 

“Rafe, I-”

“Let it,” he whispered, watching as she tilted her head back, exposing her neck. “Let go, baby.” 

She trembled slightly, finally reaching her high, and collapsed on top of the heaving boy. Rafe stroked her hair, pulling her into a lying position, and planted another soft kiss against the back of her head. 

“The movie’s still on.” 

“Watch the next part, it’s amazing,” Rafe whispered, still holding her close. They were both naked, still coming down from their highs, but Rafe had never felt better. 

(Y/N) turned to look at him. “You’re still an asshole.” 

He placed a soft kiss against her lips. “Your asshole.” 

-

@okayshoto @joselyn001 @onceuponateenagetrash @dyingsleeping @iwannabeapogue @meaganjm @rafesobxs @flossy2929 @unfortunatekiwitrash @scottybitch @asimpwriter @amaya124 @tommy-tommo @thatshithurted8 @fallincindy @marvelwhor3 @rafeswh0ree @kookap @supernaturallydc-blog @blank-velvet @alaniskauany @kiiim8 @witchywrter @kaitlyn2907 @heyimflo @overcookedpastasause @tsukkiswifeey @spidey-d00d @anonymousobxfan @gotmeinloveagain @chicagoblackhawkslover96 @lexi-writes @classydragonthingknight @belongtoyou-u @badbussylol @savannah-elliott @angelreyesgirl100 @haterpenny @beehappyyy @alwaysclassyeagle @maybankslut @kayleea122 @clearbolts @lovelyxtom @christianaevans @jemimah-b99 @opierdalacz @dangerdolns @wildflowerliv @classygirlything21 @pogueslandia

[thefanbasewhore]

Retirement.

Summary: Blood is something Bucky has grown used to but when he's covered in yours, he's sick. Don't worry, happy ending!!

Warning/Content: almost death, getting shot in the head, Bucky cries but finally gets everything he deserves 😅

Paring: Bucky Barnes x female reader

Bucky Barnes tag list and master list

"Buck -" The rasp comes from the piece in his ear, he barely hears it as bullets that wiz past the surface of his head and bounce off the ground. He's out of breath, gasping as he find shelter behind an abandoned car, pressing the piece closer.

"What is it? Did you get in?" He pauses, "We need those files."

"Buck, he has a gun, he has me. Compromised." His heart is already unsteady and those words only make it beat faster. A pit forming in his stomach instead, he hears a male voice in the background.

"Who has a gun?" The silence makes his brows crease, heart drop as his voice cracks. "Answer me!"

"He wants to know where you are and what files you want." Bucky let's out a breath he didn't even realize he was holding at the sound of your voice.

"Tell him, give him the drive." There's no hesitation in his voice. There nothing in this world he wouldn't do to save you, nothing else mattered. Not the mission and definitely not the data.

But you know this, he's hard headed but instead of listening to Bucky you decide to test the waters. Looking up at the man which isn't hard, he has you on your knees, hands out in front of you but a gun inches from your head. "He said fuck off, if you shoot me you'll never know."

"What are you doing? Give him the drive, now." The growl that emphasizes the last word would usually be enough to have you shaking, but you don't give. Despite how rough he sounds, he tries to soften it "That's an order, give it to him sweetheart."

"Oh, he said fuck off again."

Bucky body runs hot, adrenaline pumping through his veins, warming his entire body as makes a b-line for the building you disappeared into a short while ago. "Give him the fucking drive."

It's useless, he hears rustling and talking but nothing he can understand but that's until he hears you talk to fast he can barely understand. "Office, we are in the first office second floor."

It's music to his ears, a second of relief but he feels dizzy as the found of a gun going off through the comlink almost paralyzes him.

"Fuck!" He yells, as he calls your name repetitively but there is no answer.

Nothing can stop him, he's running so fast he can barely register. It's all a blur, up the stairs through the main office until the stench of blood greets him.

There you are, lifeless and surrounded by your own blood.

His hands grasp gently grasping your head, blood seeping through his gapped fingers as good heart drops. "No..no." he mumbles to himself, managing to turn you over. It's hard to breath, he can't even think, see over the tears that blue his vision. A large lump forming in his mouth, it seals his throat.

There's too much blood to see anything, it soaks your scalp and mats into the hair around it. His fingers blindly look around for an exit wound but nothing is there, instead his focus falls to the rise and fall of your chest, still breathing.

Eyelashes flicker again cheekbones, disoriented and confused as Bucky let's out a sign of relief while you crunch your nose together in pain. He takes a second, just one to lay his head on top of yours and thank anything - anyone.

"Where does it hurt? I can't see, your bleeding too much baby.." Bucky watches as your eyes flicker from his steel blues and your hand reaches up to run a knuckle again his jaw, feeling the course fine hairs there. "Hey, listen to me, where does it hurt?"

Following the path of your shaky fingers he lets out a sigh of relief, the bullet managed to just graze the side of your head. The spot is hot under his trembling plam, beginning to scab and the hair is ripped away but he feels so thankful in that moment.

"He missed." It's not funny but both of you can't help but laugh as your sense of mind is returning. Hues of yellow and blue already forming under both of your eyes, no doubt from the head trauma.Bucky feels one of your hands push against his chest which he responds by tightening his core.

"Get off, I'm fine."

The look he gives you is filled with annoyance, eyes widening as if he can't believe the words that came out of your mouth, especially since his pants are wet and sticky seeing he is actually kneeling in a pool of blood.

"Are you crazy? You will bleed out." Bucky is quick to rip a piece of material from a nearby blanket, wrapping it tightly around your head but keeps pressure with his palm. "You need to get stitched up before you bleed out."

"I'm fine." Trying to push him away again but the look he gives is warning enough so you don't fight him as one arm slip underneath your knees, and then other supports your head against his chest.

"Scared me." Is all he manages to mumble as he starts his ascend towards stairs, a small kiss pressed against the uninjured part of your head. It's gentle, filled with so many words as his lips linger there, more so to reinsure that the skin is warm, full of color and lively. "Don't ever do that again, please."

"Bucky I couldn't just give it to them." Something is placed into his coat pocket while you tap it with a small smile. Hooded eyes weak, threatening to close with every passing second. "So I didn't, it's safe, the morons didn't even bother to search me."

Great, the mission is still ago but he's frowning. "I don't care about the mission. I care about you risking your life for some file, you disobeyed my orders I told you to give it to them and to tell them. If that bullet was an inch closer you would have died."

Silence feel over the pair, nothing else to be said because Bucky was right. The agreement was Bucky was in charge, in order for you to come everything would be up to him, especially because you weren't supposed to be there in the first place.

"I'm sorry, Buck." Guilt creeping over, pressing a small kiss to the underside of his jaw. Small tears beginning to blur vision but you're not sure if it's from the look of disappointed and fear that line his handsome features or that fact that you were that close to death and blood is soaking threw the make shift bandage and trailing down the side of your head. "I should have listened."

"I need a medic." Bucky brings his wrist to his lips before laying his cheek against the top of your own. The heavy, swish of air from the helicopter does little to him, he still stands confident and strong as he speaks.

"Don't cry, doll. I'm not mad, I promise." He pauses but you can feel his hands trembling, heart pounding inside of his chest. "Just scared, I'm covered in your blood and i hate it."

***

He was right, from head to toe, smeared across his face and dying his hands pink even after scrubbing them effortlessly in the shower does little to get it off. The smell of your blood is still fresh, enough to crinkle his nose with distaste. Every time he looks down it's a reminder that he almost lost you.

When he enters the bedroom with a towel around his waist you look up, head still spinning but now the wound is stitched up, white bandages knotted behind your head. After the initial shock left your system you notice the side affects, right below where the bullet grazed, your right ear is ringing. You can hear anything and honestly, the doctors couldn't give a definite answer if it will ever come back.

"How your head, did the medicine start working yet?" Bucky asks, throwing on a pair on underwear and doesn't bother with anything else.

With a defeat huff you shake your head, squeezing your eyes shut as the bright light of the bathroom hurts. Bucky notices and shuts it off before curling up into the bed, legs entangling with your own as he presses a soft kiss against your neck.

A few more soft ones pressed against your cheeks, the warmth gathering the few tears that slip from your eyes. A hand runs through the soft strands of the involved side of your head, a soft hum of comfort vibrates against it. "Shhhh, it's going to be okay sweetheart."

As the underside of his hand comes back up to comfort you the pink hue catches his attention once again and a frown fills his features.

"I don't want to say this..." his words are rushed and desperate but he can't keep it in any longer. "Every time I close my eyes I see you there, in your own blood. I can't shake the feeling of your blood oozing through my fingers."

Bucky is never one to hold his partner back and to be honest he thinks you're one of the best agents he's ever met, skilled and smart but none of that will matter if you are dead. "I don't want you going on active missions anymore."

"You don't get to decide that." You argue, he fears the worse as your head moves from his hand, no longer seeking the comfort. "You can't do that."

"I need piece of mind, you're the only person I have left." He argues. The bright moon creates just enough light to illuminate one side of your face through the window. Eyes are black and blue and red shot, a popped vessel on the corner of your right eyes almost swells it shit. They're also puffy, no doubt from the wound and all the crying. In pain, agonizing pain, who knew getting shot in the head would give you such a bad headache? His soft hands find you again, pulling you close and gently for you face him.

One hand slides over the skin of the back of your arm, squeezing the muscle there as he presses an experimental kiss against your lips in fear you'll pull away. You couldn't if you tried, pull away that is. The smell of his soap overrides any other sense, his skin is soft and warm, his lips gentle as he strokes your hairline, pushing the hair away from your forehead. "I didn't say you have to stop, just be more careful about it, no more active missions but you can go after, make the arrests, still get in on the action."

"So let everyone else do the hard work while I sit on the sidelines? That not who I am."

"Please." He sounds desperate, blue eyes roaming over the soft features of your face, the wrinkle of irritation pinching lines between your forehead, the curve of your nose to the fullness of your lips. Beautiful, breathtaking, he's never loved something so much before. The fact that you're still laying next to him, breathing makes him want to cry.

So he does, unwanted tears fall in a messy, zig-zagged pattern as he hiccups. A soft, small hand finds his head, the buzz cut smooth under finger-tips.

"Bucky, baby.."

"I have lost everyone. My parents, my friends... Steve. I don't want to loose you either." A sound so sad, choked up and stuttering jumps his chest as he cries into your neck.

It's long over due, he refuses to speak about it. The last year of his life as been challenging to say the least, he's trying to adapt but struggling. Coming to terms of what he's done over the last 70 years but also learning how to love again, how to become human again.

Steve still haunts his dreams, his best friend, the man who saved him from Hydra, from everything is now gone. The one person who has been constant, his backbone but now he's finding that in you and honestly, his heart cant take much more.

"It's alright Buck, I'm not leaving you. I promise, I'm right here." It doesn't help, his heart his burning, chest crushing under the pressure of tears. The ball of emotion and growing and growing in the back of his throat, making it hard to speak. "You can't leave me.. you can't."

"I'm not going anywhere. I'm okay."

"You're not okay, you can barely keep your eyes open. You have a gun shot wound in the side of your head! I felt it, your blood stains my hands. It's all I can smell. I thought you were dead... I can't take it."

What If he didn't miss? If Bucky had found you lifeless and cold?

"It's okay." You rub soothing circles to the middle of back, letting him cry it out. He needs it, he needs to talk about his problems, grow from them.

"What If we both stop?" Bucky's words silence you, "No more missions, we find a home, settle down. Just me and you."

The thought had crossed your mind more than once, a peaceful place to call your own with the man you love. Who knows what would happen? There's no doubt the pair of you would be bored out of your minds but can also gets jobs to fill the void, teach self defense classes.. start a family.

The thought alone makes your heart pound, so filled with love. "I want a normal life.. it's all I ever wanted. I can't imagine it with anyone else but I also need you safe. We can...." He's hesitant, not sure if they're the right words. "We can get married, get a home.. leave all this behind."

It's all so much, his words mix with the ache in the side of your skull but you don't need to think twice. The promise of Bucky forever is impossible to pass up on. "Yes."

"Yes to what?" Bucky's breathing is normal now, a few stray tears soaking your skin but his chest doesn't move. Like he's not breathing because he'll miss the words you say.

"All of it, to being your wife, to starting a normal life with you." After everything Bucky has been through, it's the least he deserves and you're going to give it to him. As his smile grows against your skin, you're breathless. Heart beating rapidly against his own and you swear you fall in love all over again.

[lady-literature]

Found Family

holy shit did this one get way out of hand. Don’t expect them all to be this long because hot damn this is a monster compared to literally everything else but it just wouldn’t stop

(should I have expected this? probably. we all know how I am about found family.)

anyway enjoy 4.5k words ig

based on this post | @maribatmarch-2k21 | find more here

***

When Marinette had been chosen to intern with Monsieur Wayne’s PA, she hadn’t been expecting anything special. Sure, the Waynes were an odd breed and generally considered strange, but Marinette hadn’t actually expected to have much contact with them—if any at all.

She was here to earn credit for her business degree.

Instead, she has… well. She thinks she’s been somehow inducted into the Wayne family, mostly on accident and kind of as a joke.

That is, until it very much wasn’t.

***

Her first mistake, she supposes, was being too good at her job.

Marinette is an old hand at keeping track of multiple moving parts and riding herd on stubborn people who’d otherwise be too distracted or goofing off. (She was the Court’s leader for more than just being the latest in a long line of Ladybugs, after all.)

After the first two days shadowing Selina—“please, darling. Ms Kyle is so formal”—and learning the broad strokes of the job, Marinette felt confident enough to dig her nails in and get to work. Selina spent most of her time dedicated to international tasks and arranging Monsieur Waynes’ private affairs—all of which was highly classified and not discussed with Marinette—so she turned her attention to inter-company affairs.

Her first order of business was personally meeting with as many people in managerial positions as she could get. Not a requirement for the job per se, but these were people she’d have to interact with often and Maman had always stressed the importance of building connections in the workplace.

“People,” she would say, “are far more willing to do what you want them to when you’ve endeared yourself to them.”

So Marinette takes that advice and spends her breaks and lunches charming employees and giving baked goods to security guards and learning the names of the cleaning crew. She doesn’t speak to the department heads, because Selina handles their correspondences, but everyone else is free game as far as she’s concerned.

She becomes a well-recognized face astoundingly quickly.

***

Marinette probably should’ve seen the rumors coming.

It’s common practice in not only the Wayne family, but in most business conglomerates, for the children to quickly rise through the ranks of their company—if not just handed a high position right off the bat.

It took barely a month before the eldest was all but running Human Resources, and the second was placed as Head of Security practically out of nowhere. Monsieur Drake is the youngest (and most terrifyingly calculated) CEO to ever hold Wayne Enterprises, even if he does share the title with his father.

The other three are still too young or have yet to express an interest in the company, but people say it’s only a matter of time.

The track record speaks for itself, even if Marinette wishes it didn’t.

As a girl who’d come mostly out of nowhere and found herself with far more divisive sway in the company than she had any right to, it’s no wonder everyone thinks she’s some sort of secret Wayne finally coming out of hiding.

Marinette had nearly choked on her coffee when Selina dropped the bomb of that particular tidbit of company gossip.

“Most think you’ve been unofficially adopted,” Selina tells her, looking far too amused for Marinette’s liking. “Seeing as you’re too old for official avenues now.”

Marinette looks up warily from the schedule she’s rearranging. Selina had all but shoved the thing at her a month ago when she started suggesting more efficient ways of managing the CEOs’ valuable time.

“Only most? Does that mean the rest have common sense?”

Selina’s grin widens even further, if that’s possible, and Marinette regrets her question even before the older woman starts speaking.

“Oh, of course not!” she laughs delightedly. “The rest are hoping to hear news of wedding bells. It’s high time someone swept a Wayne off the market, don’t you think?”

***

“So you’re the new little sister I keep hearing about.”

Marinette stares up through narrowed eyes at the brightly smiling Dick Grayson. In her stomach, there are already the beginnings of resignation starting to form. 

“It’s nice to finally meet you!”

This man is going to bring her nothing but trouble. She can tell.

***

Dick takes a liking to her. And she, against her better judgment, finds herself doing the same to him.

It’s a little hard not to, if she’s being honest. He’s bright and bubbly and brings her bagels during his morning break without her ever having asked.

It takes practically no time at all before Marinette considers him a friend, relaxing when he’s near and laughing openly at his ridiculous jokes. Despite being the head of HR, he’s not great at the whole ‘professional’ thing and often employees will walk by to find him draped across a chair or balancing precariously on the edge of her desk while she tries and fails to get some work done while he’s around.

It really doesn't help all of the ‘Marinette is a Wayne’ rumors running around. Especially when Dick starts pointedly calling her every variation of ‘little sister’ that he can think of just to annoy her (and, she knows, because he thinks the entire situation hilarious).

***

Three weeks after befriending Dick, Selina all but shoves her into Monsieur Drake’s office and, in no uncertain words, says, “He’s your problem now.”

Marinette blinks at what she can describe as nothing other than a disaster area and just… sighs.

Tim blinks back at her.

The motion is somehow both completely blank and filled with an uncomfortable amount of knowing at the same time. There is also, she notices, a frankly ludicrous amount of concealer caked beneath his eyes and more coffee cups scattered on every flat surface than Marinette has ever seen in her life.

She knows his schedule like the back of her hand seeing as she spends hours of her day pouring over it to make sure everything runs smoothly. He has no prior engagements for the next three hours.

“You’re not going to take a nap just because I ask, are you?”

He snorts. “Absolutely not.”

She nods, having expected the answer; her phone was already at her ear before he even finished speaking. “Hey, Dick!” she greets, sounding brighter than she feels at the moment, and watches as Tim stiffens in front of her. “Yeah, no. I was just wondering if you’re busy right now.” She pauses. “Oh, good! Can you come up to Tim’s office for me? Yeah, I need you to knock him out so I can fix his dumpster fire of an office.”

Tim has since started waving his hands frantically at her, panic setting in behind his eyes.

Marinette stares at him, unmoved. “Thanks, Dick! You’re the best!”

The silence after she hangs up is deafening.

“I don’t know if I should be impressed by the ease you’re manipulating me or pissed off that you’re doing it in the first place.”

She hums thoughtfully. “Does your decision have any bearing on my future employment?”

His eyes squint. “…No.”

Marinette shrugs, mind already whirling with what she’ll need to get done first and calculating how long she’ll likely have to get it done. “Then I think you should skip right over both of those and land on resignation as quickly as possible, Monsieur, because you’re going to have to get used to it regardless.”

It’s silent for a long moment, and she worries for just a second that she’s severely crossed some sort of line. Then Tim bursts out laughing instead of, you know, firing her like he probably should have.

“Oh, yeah. You’re going to fit right in here.”

Marinette doesn’t ask where the ‘here’ is. She’s pretty sure she already knows.

***

It takes ten days for Marinette to wrangle Tim’s life into something resembling order. His office is clean and organized to his liking. She’s developed a system of filing so that all paperwork goes through her and is quickly sorted into ‘can be handled by Marinette’, ‘forge his signature and tell him about it later’, and ‘actually important enough to have Tim read through’.

His schedule is the most efficient it’s ever been and Marinette is quickly honing the skill of getting him properly dressed and out of his office in under thirty minutes. (Dick is, thankfully, a great teacher and has little to no qualms about giving her the key to all his little brother’s weaknesses.)

Selina stares at her when Marinette all but drags Tim from his office, a folder tucked neatly under his arm and the sugary monstrosity of a caffeinated beverage she’s bribed him with in her own, with a whole ten minutes to spare before his meeting with the Board.

“My dear,” she says solemnly, “you are positively magic.”

She doesn’t even look up from where she’s simultaneously wrangling Tim’s hair into submission and laying his tie down flat. “You have no idea.”

***

She knows Tim is capable of professionality. She’s seen the cool facade he pulls up in front of the Board members and the kind but impersonal smile he uses on the employees of Wayne Enterprises. (He is not the Ice Prince of the Wayne family, but Marinette believes he should have some equally ruthless sounding title.) He is aloof and sharp and every inch the businessman people praise him to be.

She’s seen it. And yet… 

“Monsieur. Why are all the Lexcorp contracts I gave you done in crayon?”

Tim doesn’t stop messing with his Rubix cube or even look up at her when he says, “Cause deadbeat fathers don’t deserve the respect of a pen.”

Marinette is very tired. She does not have time for this. “What are you talking about?”

“Lex is a bitchass absentee dad and I live to inconvenience him.”

“What about inconveniencing me?” she all but whines. “I can’t hand him these!”

That does make Tim look up at her, eyes wide with false innocence and mouth pouting up at her. “But sister dearest, I’m your little brother. It’s my job to inconvenience you.”

Growling in frustration is probably an inappropriate reaction to the situation.

But, Marinette thinks, so is the fact that both of the Waynes she associates with regularly seem hellbent on convincing the world that she too, is a Wayne, so.

(Is this how Alya felt dealing with the twins? Cause if so, Marinette takes back every joke she ever made—little siblings are a bitch.)

***

She meets Damian without warning.

Honestly, she never really expected to meet him at all but, well.

She finds him in Monsieur Wayne’s office, sitting at his father’s desk and doing something that she thinks is vaguely illegal, but she’s not about to tell her Boss a dozen times over how to parent his children.

Damian is a near-perfect copy of his father with darker skin and calculating green eyes. There’s also a more potent aura of danger around the child than there is around his father, like Damian hasn’t yet learned how to hide behind his public persona as his father had.

Or, Marinette looks at the teen thoughtfully, perhaps he just chooses not to.

“Monsieur Wayne,” she greets. Children like to be treated like adults, she knows, and Marinette doesn’t think this one is any different. “Selina hadn’t told me you’d be in the office today.”

“I don’t run my schedule by her,” he says flatly. A response she expected considering Dick’s stories.

“Of course not,” she agrees.

He finally deigns to look up at her and something flits across his expression, too fast for her to pick up on it. “Are those for Father? Bring them here, I’ll deal with them in his absence.”

Marinette raises her eyebrow. “I’m not sure that’s wise Monsieur.”

Damian scowls and sticks his hand out. “I’m perfectly capable of forging Father’s signature. Give them here.”

She does not move and, instead, lets her lips quirk up into the smile she’s been fighting since she stepped in here.

“I don’t doubt it,” she tells him, and she doesn't. Forgery seems exactly like the kind of skill a child who broke into the CEO’s office of a multi-billion dollar company would have. “But you’ll find that all forging of signatures has been finished for the day and that these,” she shakes the sheaf of papers lightly, “actually require your father’s attention.”

He snorts disbelievingly and it says a lot about Marinette’s life up until now that the blatant display of disrespect doesn’t piss her off but instead reminds her of Chloé and of the fact that she still needs to reschedule their spa day. It's been too long since they spent time together in person.

“Well,” she pauses and eyes the papers thoughtfully. “‘Requires’ in the sense that its information needed to trounce the Board when they start spouting off greedy bullshit about cutting corners on our humanitarian efforts. I’m not sure how much of it is actually useful for anything besides that.” She shrugs. “But homework is homework, yes?”

That gets her a thoughtful once-over. His hand lowers and he then turns back to whatever he’s messing with on his father’s computers.

“Very well,” he concedes. “Father will be back in approximately thirteen minutes. You can leave the papers and I’ll inform him of their… importance.” He smirks, but it’s more like he’s letting her in on a joke than anything else.

Marinette smiles back as she sets the folder on the desk, feeling, oddly, like she’s passed some sort of test.

***

The day after, both Dick and Tim are waiting for her with what looks like an entire bakery laid out in her workspace.

“Uh,” she says eloquently, setting her purse down on her chair because there’s not a single open space on her desk not filled with some kind of pastry. “What’s all this?”

She looks up to find neither Dick nor Tim has stopped staring at her since she walked in. “We heard you met Damian yesterday,” Dick starts warily, like he’s scared of her reaction.

The response does not abate her confusion. 

“Yes, I did,” she says slowly. “That does not explain all… this.” She waves a hand, trying to encompass them as well as the state her desk is in.

The two brothers share a look.

“It’s a bribe,” Tim tells her simply and Marinette is taken aback for all of a second before her eyes suddenly narrow.

Dick cuts in hastily before she can say anything. “It’s more of an apology, really. For Damian’s behavior.”

But Marinette is confused and frustrated and just a bit offended by the apparent not-bribe at this point. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, but it only does so much.

“Damain’s behavior was fine,” she tells them with measured neutrality. “You two, on the other hand, are being weird and it’s freaking me out.” She crosses her arms expectantly. “Seriously, what’s going on?”

Appearing from out of nowhere, Selina drapes herself along Marinette’s shoulders and snags a raspberry scone. “I do believe,” she says as if sharing a secret, “That they are trying to keep you from quitting, kitten.”

Marinette wrinkles her nose. “Why would I quit? I like this job.”

She also likes the Waynes (in general, if not right then) and she likes Selina. The woman was a good mentor who didn’t shy away from the dirtier parts of the job and taught Marinette all she knew. (Even the bits, she noticed, that had little to nothing to do with being a personal assistant and were more likely to be found in the repertoire of a thief.

But, Marinette is in possession of her own sticky fingers and knows how to not ask questions, so. You know—curiosity killed the cat and all.)

She doesn’t voice any of that, but Selina, at least, knows it anyway. Marinette isn’t quiet about her gratitude after all.

“First meetings with the youngest Wayne don’t often go well,” Selina tells her. “In fact, I think he has a habit of making the interns cry.”

Dick makes some kind of offended noise. “Hey! He hasn’t done that since he was twelve!”

Tim elbows him in the ribs and Marinette makes a vaguely skeptical face at all three of them before deciding it wasn’t worth it. She has actual work to get done today and pastries to get rid of before she can even start.

She pats affectionately at Selina’s hand before grabbing as many boxes as she can hold. “Come on you two,” she says to the brothers. “You’re going to help me hand these out to the rest of the company.”

Dick immediately starts doing as told but Tim hesitates, humming thoughtfully. “You know that’s not going to help your whole ‘I’m not actually a Wayne’ thing, right?”

She glares at him. It doesn’t stop Tim from grinning like the utterly unrepentant little shit he is.

***

Things are quiet after the Damian Incident for a whole two weeks. It’s the longest lull Marinette has had since she first started and became somehow involved with the Waynes.

It ends because Dick finds out about the crush Marinette has been nursing on the Head of Security for three months now.

The Head of Security who is Jason Todd: second eldest Wayne sibling and Dick’s brother.

He takes it better than expected.

(Almost, she thinks later, a little too well.)

***

Despite her friendship with Dick and Tim—or perhaps because of it?—Jason had never seemed very interested in her. At first, Marinette had shrugged and counted it as a win; there was one Wayne, at least, who neither found her situation funny nor used it to poke fun at her.

They were on friendly terms, she supposed. Security has always been one of her more regular stops in the building, so she’d spoken to him often enough. He liked complaining that she spoiled his team rotten with all her treats.

But she also noticed that he likes her cherry danishes, so.

And then she noticed how crooked his grin was when he smiled. And how he seemed to have an arsenal of nicknames for everyone he knew. And the small collection of classic romance novels filled with sticky notes he tries and fails to hide in his desk. And, and, and.

It was around the time she began unconsciously memorizing his schedule based on when he was and was not there for her pastry deliveries, that she realized she may have made a misstep somewhere.

Jason was stubborn and passionate and flipped between overly proper and crass light a damn light switch. He was also, as stated, very much not interested in her.

Not that she would’ve pursued him anyway. He was a coworker as well as her friends’ brother.

Now if only one of said brothers could understand that.

“You should ask him out,” Dick suggests not for the first time and Marinette sighs, also not for the first time.

She loves Dick—she truly does—but he has been an aggravating level of unhelpful since he found out about Marinette’s latest romantic disaster.

“I’m definitely not doing that.”

Dick groans, like she’s being the unreasonable one. “Why are you being so stubborn about this?”

“Because I don’t like embarrassing myself?” she asks rhetorically. “Not everyone can have a fairy tale romance like you and Wally.”

He throws his coffee stirrer at her. “We are not a fairy tale.”

She shoots him a flat look. She’s heard Dick talk about Wally and Tim’s told her all the stories and she was there when he and Wally finally got their shit together. Dick was unbearable for an entire week with his gooey, lovestruck new lease on life.

“You two are the definition of fairy tale. You two make fairy tales look like trashy romance novels.”

He opens his mouth to argue the point before forcibly cutting himself off. “No. Stop distracting me. We’re not talking about that; we’re talking about you and Jason.”

“There is no ‘me and Jason’,” she reminds him through her clenched teeth.

“Not yet,” he says optimistically. Like it’s a fact, like he knows something she doesn’t.

He makes her want to slam her face into a wall. Truly, he does.

***

Dick stops running his HR papers up to her office. Instead, he’s somehow convinced Jason to play errand boy for him even though he literally never looks happy about it. What used to be a flimsy excuse for Dick to slack off for a few minutes and gossip with her has now turned into awkward silence as Jason drops off the papers and leaves without even a ‘hello’.

During their shared breaks, Dick takes to orchestrating ‘chance encounters’ between her and Jason, all but shoving them into each other (and even actually shoving that one time).  She catches Jason shooting dark looks at Dick every time he does it, and if she’d been holding any iota of hope at this point, it’s been smashed to dust. Jason obviously knows of his brother’s meddling and isn’t happy about it.

But Dick just can’t take the hint.

Every failed plan of his makes him steadily worse about it all—more frantic and frustrated and like he wants to strangle her for her stubbornness. (The last feeling being more than mutual.)

Dick’s meddling starts to make her and Jason’s previously friendly, if distant, relationship awkward and embarrassing. With every pointed comment, she gets closer to just punching Dick in the face. Or, maybe, she’ll just tell Wally who really ate all the chocolate strawberry macaroons she made; it’d certainly be more devastating.

***

It all comes to head on a Thursday, after most employees have left for the day. 

They run into each other in a breakroom, and she watches as Jason suddenly goes stiff, eyes flicking over her shoulder to no doubt scan for Dick. That single action makes her expression sour and she slams her empty mug down with more force than was necessary.

For Kwamis sake, he looks like a cornered animal. An image not helped by the way he jumps a foot in the air and stares at her like he’s worried she’ll suddenly lunge at him.

“Can we agree this is ridiculous?” she says abruptly. “I don’t know what Dick is trying to accomplish with his wingman schtick, but we both know it’s not going to work. Can we just… agree that he’s an idiot?”

A complicated look crosses Jason’s face before he snorts wryly. “Yeah, we can agree on that. Dickie-boy has always been a few sandwiches short a picnic.”

“I know things have been awkward between us lately, and I’m sorry about that, but I hope we can keep being friends?” she says hopefully.

“What in the world do you have to be sorry about?” he asks before she can start catastrophizing about the bewildered expression he makes at her words. “It’s not your fault.”

The smile she shoots him is rueful and she shakes her hand in an ‘ehh’ type gesture. “Kinda is. And I understand if the-” she makes a vague gesture between them that she hopes properly conveys ‘my giant, stupid crush on you’, “you know, is too much for you. Just say the word I’ll try and keep out of your way.”

She’s trying to be comforting or understanding or something like that, but all her words seem to do is make him upset. “Absolutely not,” he insists. “Sunshine, you are not going to change your routine just to make me feel better.”

Marinette crosses her arms, frowning up at him. “Why shouldn’t I? If I’m making you uncomfortable-”

He makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat. “Uncomfort- Marinette. ” She jolts a bit at the use of her name. She doesn’t think he’s used it since her second week at W.E. “I’m not sure who made you think otherwise—and if it was Dick just tell me cause I’ll kick his ass —but barring the fact that I still enjoy your friendship regardless of any… feelings-” Marinette concentrates very hard on not showing emotion when he says that, “-it’s not your responsibility to deal with it.”

Okay, but… that makes no sense. Of course her feelings were her responsibility, that’s the whole point of them being hers.

“If it’s not mine, then whose responsibility is it then?” she asks, wondering where the hell his train of thought is running.

“Mine, obviously.”

She gives him a look, complete with narrowed eyes and thinly veiled judgment. “What? Is this some kind of gentleman’s martyr complex? Is that what’s happening right now?”

Jason huffs a laugh, but there’s no humor in the sound. “If me taking responsibility for my own damn feelings is a martyr complex then sure,” he snarks, not unkindly. More like he’s trying to protect himself by retreating behind a sour attitude.

Her mouth is halfway around a retort when his words catch up to her brain and she freezes.

“Your feelings?” she repeats. “Your feelings for… me?”

His voice is carefully neutral when he says, “Those would be the ones.”

Her mouth opens and closes and opens again. “You like me? Seriously?”

His face spasms at the question, starting at anger before he properly looks at her and the surprised expression on her face. He pales.

“You didn’t know?”

“No!” she squeaks, something she hasn’t done since she was fifteen. “Well Dick said but I didn’t believe him!”

And fuck, she thinks. This means Dick knew the whole damn time, didn’t he? Oh, she is so going to kill him the second she gets the chance.

Jason runs a hand down his face, covering his mouth as he gathers his bearings. Suddenly, his eyes shoot back open and land on her. “Wait. If you didn't know, then what the hell were you talking about just now?”

She blushes to the tips of her ears and buries her face in her hands so she doesn’t have to look at him. It was easy when she thought he’d figured it out himself. It’s harder now that she has to tell him. “I- I was talking about my crush on you.”

He’s quiet for so long that she gets antsy and peeks out from behind her fingers to see his expression. He’s still looking at her, but now there’s a wide, crooked smile on his face. The expression softens something in her chest and she lowers her hands.

“Really?” he asks, leaning closer.

Marinette nods, feeling a small smile spread across her lips.

He jolts forward, hands reaching for her before suddenly stopping just shy of touching. She startles a bit at the motion but doesn’t move away.

Jason licks his lips, smile smaller but no less bright. “I- can I?”

She blinks. “Can you what?”

“Kiss you.”

The blush returns full force, but with it also comes a smile, giddy and bright. She nods and no sooner than she does, is he swooping down to pull her into a toe-curling kiss. His hands cup her face with a tenderness that makes her smile, makes her giddy, and it’s not long before they’re both smiling too wide to actually kiss and are forced to break apart.

His hands fall to her back, practically engulfing her, and his chin drops onto her head. It’s warm and cozy and she thinks she could so very easily get used to this.

Later, they’re going to have to deal with Dick and Tim and Selina and the teasing they’ll no doubt have to endure—not to mention how much worse the rumors are going to get—but right now? Right now Marinette pulls Jason back down for another kiss and very pointedly doesn’t think about it.

[skinnyducky]

awkward apologies (pt. 2 to unexepected visits) // v.h.

This was soooo cute to write. When I tell you it was so hard to not laugh while writing this, I was trying my best. But, that's the whole point of this. To laugh, to go "awweee", and to be happy. So, thank you to those who enjoyed pt. 1...here's pt. 2 :)

link to part 1

Word Count: 1557, slightly edited

WARNING: language, sexual themes, embarrassed vinnie, and i think that's it.

---------

Vinnie leaned against the fence of the skatepark, cradling his board close to his chest. Jett sat next to him, still laughing from the story Vinnie had shared with him.

“Please tell me that all was a joke,” he laughed. “You can’t be serious?”

“It’s not funny, dude. I was so embarrassed.”

Jett shook his head, trying to stop his giggles. “Look, shit happens. It’s not the end of the world. At that, it’s not like Y/n was mad at you or anything.”

“Jett, Y/n hasn’t called me since that night.”

It was true; you hadn’t spoken to him in three days since the night of the incident. Why would you though? He embarrassed not only himself, but you, in front of your parents. Those are the very people whose opinion matters when it comes to your relationships, and he just blew it. It didn’t even help that he did not bother to explain his urgent departure right after. There were no texts, no calls, not even a tweet that gave you any hints as to what went wrong.

“I just don’t know, man. I messed up something so good.” Vinnie sighed, looking down at his shoes.

Jett sighed, placing a comforting hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Like I said, it’s not the end of the world, man. Everyone knows how head over heels you two are for each other. One little mistake isn’t going to make or break what you have going on.”

“I get that but…I…I wish I hadn’t-“

“You don’t need to repeat it.” Jett said. “Now, how about you get on your board, skate for a few minutes, and calm yourself. The more you think about it, the sadder you get, and I really don’t feel like having to cuddle with you in one of your sad moods.”

Vinnie chuckled. “Those are the best cuddles though.”

With that, the boy hopped onto his board and rode off. He skated, doing turns and all sorts of kickflips. He was in the zone, and nothing could bring him out of it. With his tongue peeking out between his lips, he gathered himself to do an ollie. He got into position, keeping his eyes on his board and his fit. With a leap, he looked up and lo and behold, there you were with your friends. He gasped, the sight of you catching him off guard, so much that he barely came close to nailing his trick.

“Shit!” he shouted, landing on his ass.

Even as far as he was, he could hear the sound of Jett’s cackles echo throughout the skatepark. Even through his awkwardness, he managed to look over at you. Much to his surprise, you were looking right back at him, laughing along with your pals. He shot you a small smile, but that fell once he saw your happy expression turn into what one would refer to as…disgust. Oh, you were mad mad.

The boy gulped, picking up his board and hurrying over to Jett, who was still laughing his ass off.

“I wish I had caught that on camera, man!” He hollered, clutching his stomach. “You should’ve seen the look on your face before you fell! Oh wait, I can show you!”

Jett proceed to mock Vinnie’s expression, failing his arms in the air.

Vinnie stared at him with an irritated gaze. “Ha, ha…very funny.”

“Dude, what happened? You normally nail your ollies.”

“Y/n happened.”

Jett’s laughter stopped as he realized what Vinnie said. “What? What’s going on?”

“They’re here.”

Jett scanned the park for you before finding you on the other end from them, chatting with your friends.

“What is Y/n doing here? I didn’t know they skated.”

“They don’t, which is why it caught me off guard.” Vinnie replied. “You think they’re here for me?”

Jett shook his head. “No, I think they’re here to protest.”

Vinnie squinted his eyes in confusion before turning back to you. There, he saw you pick up a board and wave it around, chanting, “Save the whales!”

“Why at a skatepark?”

“Don’t ask me. I’m not the one protesting.” Jett snickered.

“Y/n laughed at me.”

“Then they’re not mad.”

“I wouldn’t exactly say that.”

Jett turned to his friend with a puzzled face. “Why do you say that?”

“Because, when I smiled at them, they just looked at me like I was some creep on the street.”

“Welp, then this is your chance,” said Jett. “Talk to them, explain what happened.”

Vinnie sighed, “What am I supposed to say? That I accidentally jizzed in my pants and had to leave before I made an ass out of myself?”

“Yep.”

Vinnie looked to Jett with shock. “You’re joking. Jett, I can’t do that.”

“Listen Vinnie, you are making a big deal out of nothing. All you have to do is walk up to Y/n, tell her the truth, say you’re sorry, and hope for the best. I mean, if anything…it was kind of a compliment to her, right? Trust me on this.”

Vinnie sat there and thought about it for a minute. Jett wasn’t completely wrong; it would be better to tell the truth than to not say anything and let what could be good relationship just wither and die. With that in mind, he pulled up his britches and walked over to you.

“Save the whales-“ you stopped your chanting, merely glaring at the boy in front of you. Your friends scoffed to themselves, turning to stare at Vinnie.

“Um, hey…Y/n.” He greeted, rubbing the back of his head.

“Hey…that’s all you can say?” You replied. “You haven’t called me, you haven’t texted me, you haven’t even left a voice message. What the hell, Vinnie?”

He stood there speechless, not knowing what else to say.

“Like, what the hell happened? That thing with Mac and then not shaking my dad’s hand, like…what?”

“I know, Y/n, and I’m so sorry.”

“Vinnie, I managed to fly to Seattle with you and spend a week with your family, and you can’t even spend one hour with mine? I thought you were different.”

“I am, Y/n. I promise you, I am.”

You sighed, rolling your eyes and crossing your arms. “You know what…I can’t do this here, Vinnie. We’re trying to save whales and…”

“Okay, sorry.”

Vinnie shoved his hands into his pockets as he turned and began to walk away. But something stopped him. Maybe it was the ounce of pride in his system or the fact that he didn’t wanna lose you, but something kept him from leaving. Then he did the unthinkable…

Swallowing his embarrassment, he turned back around and stepped towards you.

“I, um…I ejaculated in my pants.”

Your friends snorted behind you, trying to keep their laughter to themselves. You stared at him with a glimmer of amusement in your eyes. You tried so hard not to break out into a smile.

“We were, um…we were getting hot and it’s not every day I have someone as…hot…as you grinding on top of me, and I got a bit excited. Next thing I know, your parents come in and I’m sitting there with jizz in my pants.”

You pursed your lips as you turned to the side, trying to contain the fit of giggles begging to escape. Your friends on the other hand…they were nearly on the verge of pissing themselves.

“So, uh…sorry. Sorry.”

Vinnie cleared his throat and slowly treaded back to Jett.

You moved to face your friends, joining them in the laughing session.

“That was the most awkward thing ever.” One of your friends said. “But I’ll say this, he’s honest. There’s no way anyone could make that up.”

“Right?” You chuckled.

“I say you should you talk to him. He’s a good kid.” Your other friend added.

You smiled. “You think so?”

The two nodded.

“Okay.” You said, running towards Vinnie.

“Vinnie!” You called, gaining the boy’s attention.

He glanced over to Jett, who took this is as his signal to give you two a minute.

“You know, never once have I ever heard of something so weird,” you said, “but so adorable at the same time.”

Vinnie grinned, awkwardly shooting you a thumbs up. “What can I say, that’s all I am. Just a weird, yet adorable, person.”

You grabbed his hands, looking into his eyes. “Why didn’t you just tell me what happened? I totally would’ve understood.”

“I was just too embarrassed, and plus I didn’t know if you still even wanted me.”

“Vinnie, I could never not want you. I told you before, I really like you and I wouldn’t want to do anything to mess that up. You should never have to question that.”

He sighed, “I’m sorry for not coming to you sooner.”

“And I’m sorry for my friends. They’re still laughing about it.”

He smiled, bringing you closer into him. The two of you stared at each other, your faces inches away.

“I love you.” He said.

It caught you off guard a bit, granted you had only been seeing each other for a short time. But nonetheless, it still made you feel butterflies inside. Grinning you closed the gap between you two, bringing your lips together. It was so good to have his lips against yours, and vice versa. You pulled back, pressing your forehead against his.

“I love you too.”

[sugamamacustard]

Let me help you

Pairing:  Alpha! Toru Oikawa x Omega! Reader, Alpha! Hajime Iwaizumi x Omega! Reader

Genre: Angst, fluff, Hurt/comfort.

Request: Because I like a bit of hurt/comfort, and I love the idea of an omega depression, I'm curious on how alpha third years on Aoba Johsai (so like Oikawa, Iwaizumi, Mattsun) would do in response to their omega being in an omega depression.

Summary: Because of unseen circumstances, you drop, and you drop hard. How does your alpha help you/redeem himself?

Author’s Note:  Oikawa’s got really long, so I didn’t include Mattsun or Makki. If you wanna request a part 2 I’ll get on it right away!

Requests: Open!

Toru Oikawa

➵ Truth be told, it was kind of his fault. 

➵Right after you both bonded, he immediately seemed to drop any redeeming qualities he had while courting you.

➵He skipped out on dates, stayed later and later at practice, gave the mile to his fangirls.

➵And while you could get over that, the worse thing you realized was when you went to cheer him on at one of his games. 

➵His bond mark was covered with a scent gland bandage and when Iwaizumi noticed it (He knew of your bonding), he sent a worried glance your way.

➵He could practically see the heartbreak from his place on the court. 

➵What was worse was that you didn’t make a scene. 

➵You stood, turned and left. That was it. 

➵ Oikawa was busy doing his pre-game whatever to notice, making the situation even worse.  

➵Iwaizumi wanted to follow you but the whistle of the ref called him back. 

➵ You didn’t want Iwaizumi to follow you anyway. 

➵You felt numb. So, so numb. 

➵Like anything you previously felt-- any longing, or wishing for your alpha-- reduced to a numb buzz that kept your body moving. 

➵You felt like you were on Autopilot. 

➵Toru made it fairly obvious that he wanted your bond mark on display, so why weren’t the same standards held to him? It wasn’t against the rules of volleyball-- several alphas had theirs out on proud display with their omega cheering in the stands. 

➵Was it you?

➵God, you felt so empty. Like your will to live was dripping away. 

➵You felt your omega lay down, whining as they tried to figure out what was wrong. Where did you go wrong? 

➵You barely felt the soft fleece of your blankets as you settled into your nest for who knows how long. 

___

 Toru was lost. You were in the stands during warm-up last game, but was gone by half-time. Okay, fine. Maybe you had to pee. But then you didn’t show up at all after that.  While at the time it took a back burner-- because we all know how Oikawa plays-- it was now front and center. His alpha was on edge and snapped on him twice already, sending sharp throbs of pain to his temples. It had been three days since Toru had seen you, his mate, so Toru could tell that was a big reason for his frustration. But Toru didn’t know why you had been gone for three days. 

If you were sick, why didn’t you text him? Were you injured? Toru didn’t know.  His neck burnt with anticipation at the thought of you in any peril. 

Where were you?

 Shoving his way past a few fangirls, Toru made his way into the gym, racking his brain for any sort of hint. Vacation maybe and you just forgot to tell him?

 “Iwa-chan! I need your-” Toru paused, huffing when Iwaizumi roughly shoved past him. His alpha was on guard immediately, making Toru growl loudly.   “What’s you issue, Iwa? Blue-balled or something?” 

The laugh that left Iwaizumi made even him, the head alpha, shiver. “My issue? What’s yours?! You absolutely destroyed your relationship last game and ask me for help?! What the hell is wrong with you, Oikawa?!”  

Oikawa swallowed. There was no nickname. No sense of friendship in his words. They were straight malice, laced with acidic venom meant to hurt him. 

When Oikawa didn’t immediately answer, Iwaizumi continued. “You make them wear their bond mark for all the world to see, but cover yours up? What in the actual fuck is wrong with you?! How in the hell you got someone like them to glance your way for more than a second is beyond me, let alone bond you; but when you do, you fucking destroy them. You’re a failure of an alpha, Toru Oikawa.” 

Truth be told, Oikawa thought that him covering up his bond mark would save you from trouble. The less people who knew about him being mated the less people to harass you. But he was your alpha. He was supposed to make sure that didn’t happen anyway.  Fuck, Iwa was right. He was a failure. This became evident as more and more things came hurdling back at him.  He didn’t even grab his duffel before he was, quite literally, sprinting out of the gym. He didn’t care who he pushed over. He didn’t care who he snapped at. He didn’t care. He only care about one person and one person alone. 

___

You whined as hunger continued gnawing at your gut. You wanted to eat, really, but you just didn’t have the energy. You didn’t have the will. 

You still felt so numb and didn’t know where to go from here. At this point, it was clear you were in the midst of an Omega Depression, and to be fair-- that scared you. You wanted to spend the evening in your nest, restart and reboot, before talking to your alpha about it the next day. You truly didn’t mean to drop. 

But here you were. The aspect of ...starvation scared you. The aspect of no closure for yourself scared you. Death scared you. But you couldn’t fight yourself to fix it. Couldn’t bring yourself to even lift your head or stay awake for more than an hour. 

The door to your room slammed open, but you didn’t look up. It was probably your guardian coming in to try and get you to eat again. But you wouldn’t. 

Your heart dropped when the smell of burnt plastic invaded your sense. 

“No- no, no, no, no no- Please god no-” Oikawa felt his heart shatter at the sight of you. You looked like you had both feet dangling in the grave, hanging on by a loose root you grabbed onto in a last ditch effort. 

He continued repeating no while running his hands through his hair, already crying before he even set foot in your room.  When he did dare step closer, that was all it took before he was running to you, pulling you in close despite your whines of protest.  His grip on you was bruising, but he couldn’t risk letting you slip. Not again. 

“Please- please don’t leave me.” He sobbed into your shoulder, your own eyes stinging (Dehydration keeping tears from falling).  “I- I can fix this- I can fix us. Fuck- Please Y/N. Please omega, let me help you. Let me make this right!”

Though you didn’t say anything, the grip on his jacket told him all he needed to know. And though it would be a long road to recovery, you and him would conquer it. 

➵ Completely contrary to Oikawa, your drop wasn’t anyone’s fault.

➵Maybe the school systems, if there was blame to be put. 

➵So much had gone on in such a short period. 

➵You and your alpha, along with his team, had been bombarded with practice and paperwork in preparation for the upcoming tournament. 

➵But just because volleyball picked, doesn’t mean school drops off.

➵ You had essay after essay due, Unit exams which would soon fall into Final exams.

➵You and Hajime had barely even seen each other all week.

➵You both still sent each other good morning and good night texts, and if you see each other in the hallway you’ll give each other a quick peck. 

➵Honestly, it was obvious everyone was on edge. 

➵Teachers didn’t care though, they just kept piling on more, and more, and more work.

➵ And volleyball just kept getting closer and closer.

➵You stumbled into the gym with a chirp, trying to sort through the multitude of papers in your arms. 

➵Your back was aching and your arms were strained, but you couldn’t drop them. That would be a disaster. 

➵ The coach sent you a raised brow, offering a hand to help. You waved him off, sitting on the bench with a grunt.

➵Everyone was already sweaty and panting, practice in full swing. 

➵God, everyone looked so tired already. 

➵You could feel the waves of exhaustion.

➵ As they were just in deep in your bones as they were in theirs. 

___

“Did you finish filling out the registry forms?”

You looked up to the coach, nodding slowly before riffling through your papers and pulling out the ones you were looking for. You handed them to the beta, quickly going back to your notes once more. 

You noted the stumbled steps and slowed reflexes, but simply made it a point to emphasize rest with the boys. Maybe a day with no practice would do them more good then practice. 

Hajime was doing well, as usual, somehow keeping his head and energy high. You know he hasn’t gotten much rest either, and you felt for your alpha. Honestly, you just wanted one day with just you and your alpha, where you both could sleep the day away and come back good as new. 

That just sounded glorious. 

“You wouldn’t mind filling out the ref sheets either, would you?” The beta smirked, already handing you the sheets. He knew you had a tough time saying no to people older and/or bigger than you; and had you doing several things that most mangers would never touch.

It was tiring.

You reluctantly took the sheets, already starting on them. The notes you were working on were yanking from under you, the coach reading over them. 

He scoffed at your note of possibly skipping a practice. “Are you serious?” 

“I’m sorry?”

“Take a break?! These boys are on the brink of a skillful breakthrough, and you want to stop them?!” 

You closed in on yourself at the yells, trying to focus on the ref sheets. He continued yelling and berating you for the notes you made. You could feel the teams stares on you, but you also knew they wanted you to learn to stand up for yourself. They had been giving you a few minutes to try and collect yourself and if nothing happened they would step in. 

It only took seconds for you to finally break down, sobbing into your hands as the coach’s yelling reached a breaking point. The team took very time to act then and there. 

Oikawa and Kyoutani were snapping and growling, pushing him back and away from you while Hajime slid onto his knees in front of you, pulling you to his chest and kissing your bond mark. He rocked you side to side, purring and letting you cry. 

You sobbed and sobbed while the coach tried backtracking, but it was too late. The pack was on defense. One of them was in danger and they were going to make sure they all were safe. 

___

You don’t remember falling asleep, but when you wake up, your in Hajime’s arms, which are wrapped tight around your waist. 

Oikawa was on the other side of you, head on Hajime’s thigh, Makki and Mattsun were cuddling together a little to the left of you. Kyoutani was closest to you (He had a soft spot for you, almost like you were another older sister to him). You ran a hand through his hair for a moment before taking a deep breath in and out. The rest of the team was scattered in the puppy pile around you, and the gym was dark. 

In fact, everything was dark. There were chairs propped up by the door, just in case you supposed, and there were jackets littered everywhere. Your heart fluttered at the thought. 

Hajime’s arms subconsciously tightened around you, luring you back into sleep.

You, your alpha, and your pack.