#it'd be great if you didn't exist

[throughpatchesofviolet]

Now that I've seen the Pass E.G.O that released this week, I can finally talk a bit about the ideas I mentioned last night!!

^ This is Lasso--based on the Abnormality Rose Hunter, which has been a favorite of mine for a while--and the E.G.O animations include the horse--the Sinner rides it while attacking with a whip.

Naturally, my first thought upon realizing the E.G.O would be coming from Rose Hunter was the idea of Lasso!Sherry being paired with Wild Hunt!Heathcliff. They'd both have horses--Heathcliff has Dullahan, the "headless horse," and Rose Hunter reminds me a bit of the "headless horseman" with its design (even though it's likely based on the huntsman from Snow White, going off it's E.G.O Gift encounter in Mirror Dungeons ... though it still is technically headless /lh).

But I of course have two further pieces of evidence to support Sherry getting this E.G.O. The first is something Demian says in a cutscene following the conclusion of Canto VI:

I made myself physically ill going back for these screenshots, so that's great. /sarc

Anyway. If Ca.ther.ine is Heathcliff's "rose," then Sherry being the "Rose Hunter" has a bit of a more ... vicious interpretation.

The last thing I have is Hong Lu's line when he undergoes Corrosion while wielding Lasso:

^ This perfectly encapsulates how she feels about Moriarty. Remember, Sherry's Moriarty killed the person dearest to her and then left--he "fled," in her eyes. Her goal is to hunt him down, and I love that this E.G.O--or at least it's Corrosion--would resonate with her.

Also the default of this E.G.O is primarily who'd be shipped with Wild Hunt!Heathcliff!! I think she'd find Dullahan fascinating. And also she'd see her work with Heathcliff similar to her fulfilling some sort of bounty or contract ... she has some sense of loyalty to him and I think it gradually evolves into affection.

[inmaki]

gojo showing off your back scratches to geto

( cont from this fic! req, visual ) .

contains: sex talk, desc of back scratches, crack, sugu is called daddy once (as a joke.. right..)

everything was relatively peaceful in suguru's apartment. key word: relatively.

a forgettable yet appreciated sunday afternoon, not a cloud in sight despite the weather forecast predicting downpours of rain. either way, the raven-haired man insouciantly rested across his white couch, reaching the conclusion that today would be a day for self-care, relaxing, and perhaps some meditation.

there was only one thing ruining his peace.

all morning, suguru has been forced to try and ignore the stain a certain someone has left on his couch — a pair of unecessarily expensive yet dirty shoes being the culprit.

despite these attempts, every once in a while his gaze can't help but wander over at the mark — as if it'd poof out of existence if he glared hard enough.

"fuckin' asshole.." he mutters. it was a wonder his relationship with his best friend managed to stay so promising despite all their differences, yet suguru wouldn't have it any other way, even after situations like this.

right when he grumpily turns back to the tv — which was playing some crappy, low budget rom-com — his apartment door is yanked open and suguru swears he nearly jumps out of his seat.

great, was this it? was he about to get robbed, perhaps evicted? and then probably die? forced into the afterlife knowing gojo's shoe-shit was still on his new couch? no that can't—

"i fucked her!"

suguru whips his head towards the apartment door, announcement being disregarded as he nearly groans in agony. speak of the devil.

big blue eyes peak out from under circular sunglasses, one hand already raised in preparation for a dap up while his stupid, big, dirty shoe pushes the door closed behind him. gojo wears a black compression shirt with grey sweats, marching over to his friend with a ginormous grin across his cheeks.

"take your shoes off, now," suguru snaps, nodding to his friend's feet with a frown.

"yeesh... whatever y'say, daddy," the bastard never loses his smile as his hands raise in surrender, kicking them off by the door smoothly. "what's got your panties in a twist?"

geto pinches his nose bridge. "don't call me that," as he continues the scolding, he points to the living room with his free hand. "you got a mystery stain on my couch, satoru. do you know how many youtube videos i watched trying to get this shit off?"

unphased, gojo takes a look at the strangely colored blob against the armrest's leather material and shrugs. "my bad. did you try febreeze?"

"what— no? dude, febreeze is for.." when suguru looks back up to sourly meet his gaze, he could immediately tell the white-haired man was already drifting back into la-la-land, words going in one ear and out the other. "..nevermind. why're you here?"

at the reminder, satoru seemingly brightens, head shooting back up as if he was just told he'd won the lottery.

"oh god, don't make that stupid face—" he pauses. "the fuck are you doing?" suguru might as well say goodbye to his self-care day, because now gojo was stripping in the middle of his living room, shirt thrown haphazardly onto the still-very-much-stained couch.

"just look!" suguru squints as his friend swivels around to face the wall, pushing his bangs away to get a better view of the— oh shit.

it takes the raven-haired man a second to process what he's seeing before shuffling forward, closely examining the achingly red, bulging scratch marks displayed sexily across the latter's back and shoulders. "no way.."

suguru knows the strongest sorcerer well enough to notice how he purposely didn't use reversed cursed technique on these scratches, just so it'd be obvious to anyone that caught a glimpse of what exactly occured. to his further dismay, he can already picture a smug and sweaty gojo walking around their local gym like this, proud simper on his pretty lips as he easily raises a pair of weights in his veiny hands.

a hiss escapes geto's mouth as he runs his finger down a particularly agitated one, knowing exactly how painful they could be after experiencing many hook-ups of his own. even so, satoru only licks his lips, neck craning to the side so he can pride himself in his friend's gobsmacked expression.

"damn, these are deep. you actually hit it?" suguru confirms, raising a celebratory hand.

turning back around, satoru daps him up, a massive smirk now on both their faces. "hell yeah, it was amazing."

it was impossible to predict what gojo would do next after barging through his front door — especially considering how many times he's done so — but this has to be the last thing suguru ever expected.

not that he was complaining — in fact, all of geto's temper and need for relaxation seemingly flew out the window, the feeling of proudness for his best friend overthrowing anything else.

and even if he hated to admit it, the way gojo was so eager to come over and announce his virginity loss to him was more than a little endearing, and dare he say cute.

"that's great, man. congrats." suguru leads him into the kitchen — still shamelessly shirtless — to grab them both a can of beer in celebration. while the white-haired man usually didn't get involved with any form of alcohol, this occasion was most definitely exception-worthy. "you made y/n cum too, right?"

an offended glare is shot his way. "duh, two times."

"huh. surprised you could last."

as suguru pours their drinks into two fragile cups, gojo exhales, not bothered in the slightest by his jab. "dude, same.." he admits dreamily. "she was so fuckin' tight and warm.. and oh— fuck, her moans? heavenly.. 'can't believe i didn't bust after the first minute.."

geto gulps, trying his best to ignore the mental image his brain was producing from his dirty words. you can't blame him — both of you were smoking hot, and he was a simple man.

even now, he could already imagine what you both looked like; panting and moaning, skin-slapping so loud that it echoed through the whole room, how blissed out you'd look as gojo's cock split you in t—

satoru's playful sigh cuts through the tensing air. "who knows sugs, maybe you'll have another kind of stain to worry about next time we're over~"

he's never snapped out of a daydream so quickly. "don't even joke about that."

over the next hour, the two men sat manspread on the stained couch, taking leisure sips while recalling satoru's final moments as a virgin — suguru giving out his secret tips and tricks along the way.

maybe sometime, suguru could offer some.. hands-on learning instead.

mlist! <- sugu.. how could u think abt ur bestie and his gf like that... tsk tsk tsk (if u enjoyed reblogs/comments r appreciated heheh)

© inmaki on tumblr. all rights reserved. do not cross-post, translate, copy in any way, etc.

[aerithmybbgmypookiemywife]

Genshin SAGAU where they hide in the Fortress Of Meropide in order to live a normal life.

not proofread pt2

Creator! Reader who woke up confused in Fontaine. "What the fuck..." you mumbled as you were trying to piece everything together, why were you here? Is this a dream...?

You soon realized that you died in the real world because of Truck-Kun. Now... You have to adjust into this world...

It took a little bit of time to adjust but with the help of an old fisherman living in the mountains who took you in, it didn't take long before you accepted this life.

Creator! Reader who wants to live their life in peace and don't ever want to be found by the Archons or... Any of the main characters for that matter! It'd be a headache if they found out... You didn't want people being overprotective over you.

You wanted freedom...

Creator! Reader who gets found out by the old fisherman as the Creator by accident. You looked at your bleeding hand in horror as it spew out golden blood. The old fisherman quickly grabbed a cloth and wrapped it around your finger.

The old fisherman seemed to connect the pieces together, "So this is why you don't want to go to the city... And why you just popped out of nowhere in the fields..." the old man mumbled. "I- please... Don't tell anyone...!" you cried out. His eyes widened, "Oh! No! Your Grace I would never! But... You're not safe here... There will come a time that you will be found..." The old fisherman sighed.

Creator! Reader who conducted a plan to fake a robbery. The plan was to make it look like you 'stole' from the old man. The old fisherman would report you and you would be sentenced as a thief and banished to the Fortress of Meropide, living in the shadows... Like a ghost.

When your case was being heard, you saw Furina there, that means the traveller hadn't arrived yet... That'll be a problem for you in the future but you brushed it off, promising yourself you'd avoid the traveller like their the black plague.

When you arrived there, Childe was already gone... This was bad... That means the Traveller is coming soon.

It didn't help that you also saw Wriothesley face to face, his observing stare making you nervous... But with how he let you off easily, you don't think he found anything suspicious about you.

Creator! Reader who can't seem to not help Aether and Paimon along with the three siblings, Lynette, Lyney, and Freminet. Always leaving small clues so that they can advance to the story faster, or making sure they don't get hurt or get into an accident. You already knew what the story of Fontaine was but with your current existence... You were unsure if there were some things that'll change.

Creator! Reader who gets found out by Aether...

Your body flinched as he called your name... He knew your name... "You're... Them right...?" He added, you dared not to turn around, getting ready to run away since he hadn't seen your face yet. "You are them... The creator..." he spoke out again, "Please... Don't run away..." he begged as he walked closer to you. You slowly turned around to face him, "...How did you know it was me...?" you asked.

"That... Warmth... That lingering feeling... I felt it. It lead me towards you... I-I thought you were gone, or that you were upset since I hadn't felt you in so long..." He replied as tears rolled down his cheeks, he eventually hugged you, to which you allowed him to. Rubbing his back to comfort him.

Creator! Reader who tells Aether to never tell anyone about you or your existence to which he obliged. You watched everything unfold, from the start to the aftermath of the flood. Everything went well, and not a single soul other than Aether and the old Fisherman know of your existence.

"Everything went well... Neuvillette made sure Furina had an apartment near Palais Mermonia." Aether reported to you, "That's great news." You smiled at him, "Ah! You need to go, people would probably find it suspicious if they found you talking to a random prisoner for no reason." you added to which he nodded, he was about to leave but you stopped him for a moment and gave him a head pat. He was like a younger brother, he blushed and remained standing there for a few seconds, waiting for you to stop.

You let out a small laugh, "Sorry, I got carried away." he only nodded and quickly left, too flustered to even muster a response. You watched him as he left your prison cell.

You then walked towards your bed, looking for your work clothes as you were planning on working again for tickets. You then hear footsteps, you didn't bother turning around as you assumed it was Aether.

"Aether, did you leave something?" you asked, "Aether? You mean the traveller?" you froze... That voice wasn't from Aether... You slowly turned around to see... Wriothesley. You blood ran cold as you stared at him, your mind scrambling as it tried to find words to say.

"You don't have to say anything." He added, slowly walking towards you. "You know... I thought there was something so weird about you... Something about you kept pulling me in and I didn't know why... At first I thought you were just a Fatui spy but now..." he was only a feet away from you now, "I realized that you're them... The creator."

part 2...???

[spicysourchimken]

Murder! Murder! Murder!

TRIGGER WARNING: discussions of death, murder, descriptions of corpses, gore and corpse desecration

(This Idea is loosely inspired by @/the-witchhunter's 'Ghost in the Morgue', please go check it out if you like this concept and have not yet read it)

[Other stuff in this AU: World Building]

Corpses au Danny, not just Corpse but Corpses. Every time Danny transforms he drops a new body, Danny honestly has lived with it long enough that it's funny at this point (and also. maybe made him a little weird about his own death and or deaths). This is not the same for Tim, who now has to deal with a potential serial killer.

Tim is looking into a string of strange and suspicious deaths that might point to the appearance of a new rogue, this results in him taking a visit to the morgue as Red Robin, only to meet a potential victim, Daniel Fenton the latest medical examiner for GCPD.

----

Tim was the one who had found the first body a week ago. He'd been on patrol when he'd spotted it propped up against a dumpster in an alley. It couldn't have been there longer than an hour, the blood was far too fresh.

Tim had planned to just check out the scene and call it in, but then he actually saw the body. It'd been eviscerated, torso ripped open organs spilling out and its hands had been frozen to the ground- hell the entire body seemed to be coated in a layer of frost.

Tim kept tabs on the investigation, if anything for simple curiosity. Then they'd found the second body. Body frozen to the ground, same victim profile- but the death had been completely different. Slashed throat, face mutilated.

Then there was another, and this time Tim wanted to see it in person. This was either a serial killer or the start of a new rogue, and for Tim to be able to tell he needed to see. He sent word to Gordon, if anything more of a warning. He was greeted by the medical examiner.

Greeted was a strong word.

The medical examiner was... strange. Tim had heard news of him starting work and as far as Tim was aware of he was clean, and an almost boring person. The medical examiner that Tim met was unnerving. Pale, staring almost through him and carried blase attitude to his work.

What was worse is that he reminded so much of a corpse, not just a corpse but the corpse.

Then it struck him.

Fenton could be a target. Fenton could be the focus of the killer's obsession.

He'd have to keep tabs on Fenton, too bad he might be the most reckless Gotham citizen in existence.

----

Gotham, admittedly hadn't been Danny's first pick after he finished medical school. Danny had always intended to become a medical examiner, dealing with your own corpses for years would do that do you. 'Finished' was the real problem, Danny had been doing well, great even but then he'd died. Twice. Real unfortunate really, hit and run and then poison, left him with a dry throat for weeks.

His own classmate apparently tried to kill him, which means it would be more than hard to actually finish medical school. That's fine, he had access to Tucker, an actual godsend who was able to make it look like he had all the proper qualifications... as long as you didn't look too hard.

Gotham was apparently pressed for a good medical examiner. All he needed to be was experienced.

Thankfully he had that in spades.

Things frankly only started going down hill last week. He'd made a habit of taking on requests between work, occultist avoided Gotham like the plague leaving him the only voice for the dead. Usually it was pretty easy gig, collect some momentos, help a few ghosts recognize they're dead. Until he'd had to deal with a Wraith.

It didn't go well. Danny was dead set on handling it as a human, appearing as Phantom could cause all matter of chaos. Danny had also not been informed that the claws of a wraith could pierce through human flesh so there's that. Danny was once again evicted from the mortal coil, dropping his own corpse and having to finish the fight off

Danny had planned to deal with his body after gaining his human form back and making sure that the thing could no longer return to the earthly plane. Turns out a bat got there first, turned the place into a crime scene. Just his luck he was beaten bloody enough to be unrecognizable.

His luck continued to go down hill when he was killed, not once, not twice but three times (this of course, wasn't accounting for the times he'd needed to go ghost). He'd gotten good at taking care of his bodies in Gotham at that point, or so he thought, until he was told he had not only a new body on his table and Red Robin waiting to be escorted to his morgue.

Now Danny has to juggle the growing chaos that it they spirits of Gotham while trying to make sure none of his bodies are identified, even if that means making a mess of Red Robin's investigations.

[rafesfavgirl]

with a broken heart — r. cameron

part 1. something a little more lighthearted to make up for breaking y'alls hearts :)

series: every few lifetimes

❝ i was grinning like i'm winning  i was hitting my marks 'cause i can do it with a broken heart ❞

pairing: ex-bf!rafe x fem!reader

context: after getting your heart broken, you pack your bags and leave the obx, only to come face to face with rafe again, eight years later.

words: 2.4k+

warnings: rafe and reader are aged up (26/27), old flames, FLUFF

"now remember, this client's a big prospect," your boss says as you follow him out of the office car and into the building you were scoping out today. "i guarantee if you can close this deal, you'll be well on your way to becoming the next junior partner."

"hank, are you serious?" you stop in your tracks and he looks at you. 

when you first left the outer banks for new york, you went to nyu without a clue on what you wanted to do with the rest of your life. somewhere along the way, you graduated magna cum laude and pursued law school at columbia. your first year, hank took you on as an intern, and by the time you graduated, you had a job lined up for you at one of the biggest real estate agencies in the world. and though you knew how well you did your job, becoming junior partner as a second-year associate was way beyond where you thought you'd be—it was nothing short of a dream come true.

"don't think what you've done for this company has been lost on me, y/n," he tells you. "you're an asset. i knew it since that first summer i took you on as an intern."

a smile comes across your lips. "well, i can't disappoint," you say. "let's close this fucking deal."

"that's what i like to hear, come on," he continues leading you through the building, until the two of you reached a tall guy with a buzzcut wearing a navy blue suit scoping out the place.

"mr. cameron," you don't miss the familiar name when you and your boss stop behind him, your breath hitching when the guy turns around to greet you both. "this is-"

"y/n," your name rolls off rafe's tongue the same way it always did, your heart beating so hard you feared it'd jump out of your chest.

hank's eyes shift between the two of you, as he shakes rafe's hand. "you two know each other?"

"yeah," rafe nods, his eyes set on you—he couldn't believe that you were actually standing in front of him. a part of him thought that when you left the obx he'd never see you again. "we uh— we went to high school together."

"well that's wonderful," hank smiles. "no need for the awkward introduction then."

except— it was awkward. you didn't just go to high school together. you fell in love in high school. and two months before you chose to go to nyu, rafe broke your heart.

"y/n here will be the one walking you through the contract, and hopefully setting you up with one of our best architects," hank explains to him, while you continue trying to process the fact that he was actually here.

what were the odds that he was the client you needed to win over in order to make junior partner? 

—

"so, does that all sound good to you?" you finish going over the contract for the building and look at rafe.

the two of you hovered over a table in the empty space that you'd spread out all the documents on.

"yeah, y/n, it all sounds great." the smile he throws your way makes your stomach turn in the worst way—making you realize that the piece of your heart that never stopped beating for him still existed. "where do i sign?"

"uh— right here," you pick up your pen to draw x's on all the lines he had to sign on, before holding it out to him.

he takes it from you, and you watch as he leans over to sign on each and everyone of them, your eyes trailing over how well his suit fit him.

he must hit the gym at least four times a week, you thought. he's grown quite a bit since you last saw him.

"there you go," rafe hands the pen back out to you, and you take it from him with a smile.

"thank you," you say. "you won't regret it."

"oh, i know," he nods, eyes scanning over your face. "i'd never regret anything that involves you."

you feel the heat rise on your cheeks, but you keep it professional, gathering the files on the table back into your folder. "well then, i'll leave you with the contacts of our architects and if you have any further questions, you can reach out to hank or any of the other executives."

"yeah, okay," he replies, hiding his disappointment in the fact that you didn't tell him to contact you with any questions he may have.

"it was a pleasure doing business with you, mr. cameron," you hold out a hand to him for a handshake and he stares at it for a second, before reluctantly placing his hand in yours.

"it sure was," he smiles. "but you know you can just call me rafe, don't you?"

"this is how i address all my clients," you tell him. "it's just the professional thing to do."

"yeah, yeah, i get it," he nods. "guess i'm just not used to it coming from you."

you crack a smile at his somewhat nervous stance—you weren't used to seeing him this way. "it was nice to see you again, rafe. good luck with everything."

"yeah," he grins. "you too."

you turn to walk away, while rafe stays back, scratching the back of his head in contemplation before calling out to you. "hey y/n?"

"yeah?" you ask, stopping to look at him again.

"you got any plans tonight?"

"rafe, i-"

"oh, come on," he cuts you off, slowly closing the distance between you two. "there's no reason we can't be friends, right?"

wrong—there were many reasons. one being that you spent years piecing yourself back together after he decided to give up on you. 

"let's catch up," he persists, his blue eyes locking with yours. "get a drink with me tonight."

despite your head screaming no, you agree. "one drink," you say, causing a smile to spread across his face. "ten o'clock. meet me at the bar on fifth."

—

the second you walk into the bar, rafe rises from his stool at the counter and waves you over. he had gotten there 30 minutes early to make sure you weren't left waiting for him—you'd done enough of that.

"hey," he seems nervous when you reach him, wiping his hands on his slacks before reluctantly wrapping his arms around you in a hug.

you resist the urge to giggle—it was kinda entertaining to see this six-foot-two tall man get nervous around you—and briefly return his hug.

"have you been here long?" you ask, taking off your jacket and taking a seat in the empty stool beside him.

"nah, just about five minutes or so," he lies, shrugging and giving you a lopsided smile, as the bartender walks up to greet you both.

"anything i can get you?" she asks, eyes lingering on rafe for a little longer than you.

"just a glass of whiskey for me," rafe tells her. "neat."

"and i'll just have a glass of pinot noir," you say, when the girl turns to look at you. "thank you."

"and you can just put it on this," rafe reaches into his back pocket for his wallet, and you cut in. "rafe, you don't have to-"

"nonsense," he shakes his head at you and slides his black amex across to the bartender. "i invited you out. it's on me."

the bartender picks up his card, and gives him a smile. "rafe cameron. i'll remember that."

subtly, rafe rolls his eyes and you hold back a snicker. "please don't."

the bartender huffs as her eyes shifts between the two of you, but walks away without another word to get your drinks and charge rafe's card.

you kink a brow at him. "you get bartenders flirting with you a lot?"

"i guess it happens every now and then," he shrugs.

"it's definitely the buzz," you tell him, as a different bartender brings over your drinks and hands rafe back his card.

"thank you," he briefly acknowledges him, before turning his attention back on you, an amused smile on his face. "you think?"

"yeah," you nod, bringing your wine glass up to take a sip. "it makes you look older— more mature. it suits you."

he cracks a smile, a small chuckle slipping out from between his lips. "and being a lawyer suits you."

"you really think so?"

"yeah," he nodded, taking a sip of his whiskey. "you looked so cute all dressed up in your little suit," those words make the heat rise on your cheeks, and you hide it with your wine glass. "i've never seen you more in your element. what made you choose law?"

"well…" you trail off, wondering whether or not you should tell him the truth. oh, fuck it. "after we broke up, i found out got into nyu. i was so… mad and hurt over you ending it that i packed my bags and i left, without looking back. during the summers, i stayed here and worked internships with the school just so i'd have an excuse not to go home."

he listened intently, a look of indifference falling across his features. a part of him was hurt at hearing that he'd broken your heart so badly you felt the need to leave, but the other part was proud. you really did that. figured your shit out and made a life for yourself—just like he always knew you would.

"after my second year, i worked an internship with a property management company in brooklyn. we scoped out places all around the city, and i don't know… i kinda just fell in love with it. seeing how happy people got when we'd found them the right apartment or the right space for them to start their business just made me feel really good. so i declared real estate as my major junior year and decided on law school," you continued.

"doll, that's amazing," he smiled, blue eyes twinkling. "which law school did you go to?"

"columbia," you reply, his eyes only widening in amazement. no words could describe the amount of pride in his chest right now. "but enough about me. what about you?"

"oh— uh…" he started and set his whiskey down on the bar. "after you left, i went to rehab. went in and out of that place for about two or three years… i mean, you knew how bad it was— wasn't easy."

you frown upon hearing his struggles with rehab and relapsing, but nod along as he continues.

"been clean for about four years now though," he shrugs, as if it wasn't some big accomplishment.

"rafe, that's amazing," you tell him, setting your glass down on the bar. "good for you."

"i had to," he nodded. "not only for me, but for dad, too. he was starting to talk business and expanding the company, and i just… i couldn't let him down. especially not after i let you down."

you glance down, no longer being able to meet his eyes. you knew that your past together had to come up at one point, you just weren't ready for it. mainly because even after all this time, there was still that little piece of your heart that never stopped belonging to him. it would always be his. "rafe…"

"i hope i'm not being too forward when i ask you this but…" his hand reaches out to touch yours, and you look up at him. "are you seeing anyone?"

"no, i'm not," you shake your head. "after we broke up, i didn't really date much. and even when i did, nothing ever really stuck."

that was enough to have a smile crack across his his, eyes brighter than you'd seen them in a really long time. "guess that makes two of us."

"guess so," you shrug, thoughts running through your mind a hundred times a minute as you try to find a way to change the subject. you weren't ready for where this conversation was about to go. at least, not yet. "but, uh— tell me about cameron development, how's that going?"

he chuckles at your eagerness to change the subject, as you sipped on your wine, but goes with it. he'd break you down again. eventually.

—

after finishing your drinks at the bar, rafe offered to walk you home since your apartment was only about a block or two away, assuring you that he'd just get a cab back to his hotel afterward.

and while a part of you screamed at you to say no, that little piece of your heart that still beat for him won over, and you agreed.

"well, this is me," you say, stopping in front of your apartment complex and looking at him. "it was really nice to see you, rafe."

"so that's it?" he asks, catching you off guard. "this just ends here?"

he takes a step towards you, making your heart pitter-patter, as his eyes scanned your face.

"rafe-"

"don't you ever wonder…" he cuts you off, his gaze lingering on your lips for just a moment before his eyes shifted to meet yours. "what we could've been? what we could be?"

"i-"

"i know i fucked shit up with you, a'ight?" he said, hand coming up to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear.

the gesture threatens to make your eyes flutter close at the feeling of his familiar touch, but you keep your composure.

"i was young and i was stupid, and i thought you deserved better," he continued. "but y/n, there isn't a day that has gone by in the last eight years that you haven't crossed my mind. i think about you all the time, just hoping for the day you'd finally come back to the banks."

your breath hitches at his confession, that tiny piece of your heart that held onto him, growing three sizes.

"i know i don't deserve a second chance, i know that," he told you. "but i'm not the guy i was back in high school. i'm clean now, and i've turned my life around. i can be that guy for you now. the one you needed me to be all those years ago."

"okay," you whisper.

"what?" he musn't have heard you right.

"i'd be lying to myself if i said i haven't thought about you either, rafe," you say.

a small chuckle falls from his lips, which spread into a smile. "seriously?"

you nod. "come pick me up at seven tomorrow. let's give it a chance."

part 3 coming soon!!

i'm rooting for them tbh

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[strwberri-milk]

hello! may i request for a scenario where the LADS boys confessed to the reader for the first time? if you don’t feel like doing all 3,you can just choose whichever one you want to do for ^^

Zayne is nervous. He isn't often nervous like this, not even when he was applying to medical school. Whenever he does things in his life he's always sure that no matter what he does he prepares for it to guarantee the result that he wants. However, when it comes to you he can never quite predict what he'll do around you no matter how much he tries.

He tries to plan a casual day out. He doesn't want to make it seem too out of the ordinary, worried that he'd make things too awkward if they don't go well. To him, it'd be better if the day was an average one so it wouldn't stick out too much if you rejected him.

To him, he doesn't know if you'd ever look at him as more than your friend. He feels like you've far passed the point of ever seeing him as a romantic companion and he was just lucky enough to see you as often as he currently does. He's more than fine existing in this simple life with you for as long as you'll let him.

He confesses his feelings to you over a cup of coffee. It's perfect to him. You've got the flush of laughter on your cheeks, wiping a tear away as you reminisce about a story from your shared childhood. You've never looked more beautiful to him than in this moment, talking about something silly he did and how you're so glad the two of you are still friends.

Without thinking he puts his palm up towards you on the table, not insisting you take his hand but simply offering it when you notice it there. His voice is soft, confession simple but sweet as he tells you that he's loved you from the moment the two of you met. He reassures you that if you reject him nothing will change but he doesn't expect to see you tear up and nod yes so aggressively he's worried he might have to check you for a neck injury.

He barely processes your arms wrapping around his shoulders, hugging him tightly to you as you confess that you've felt the same way for so long. Instinctually his arms wrap around your waist, trying to help you feel comfortable as he thanks you for returning his feelings for him. The two of you spend the rest of the day planning your first real date, fingers tightly intertwined as you both smile softly at each other.

The two of you were just having a casual game night at Xavier's. This was a common occurrence between the two of you and you loved it. Spending time with Xavier in a casual manner was a great way to just forget about the stress of the day. All his furniture was also incredibly comfortable which meant you always found yourself fighting against falling asleep.

It happens to be one of those times, your eyes fluttering shut as Xavier offers you a warm drink. You playfully groan at him, telling him that he's just trying to keep you for the night by enticing you with his fluffy pillows and tasty drinks. He stills for a second before asking if it'd be so bad. He wouldn't mind you spending the night if you wanted to.

You roll your eyes, knowing that you've already crashed in his room once or twice after being too exhausted to make the trek to your floor above his. However, he decides that this is a great opportunity to confess his feelings for you. You look so perfect like this to him, wrapped up and cozy on his couch. He has the sudden urge to make this more permanent, ask you to come and go as you please because knowing that you can be in his space at any time makes him happy.

He wants nothing more than to share his space with you, be able to spend all his spare time with him in quiet, domestic ways. He'll try to make you something to replenish your energy after a long day of work, you'd thank him for trying as hard as he did to make something, then he'd try to tell you not to force yourself to eat it all because he knows he didn't do the greatest job cooking it all.

He kneels down next to you on the couch, gently resting his cheek on your thigh. You look down at him in confusion, not wanting to move too much in case you scare him off. There's something about the resolute look in his eye that makes you take pause, nodding subtly to tell him to tell you whatever it is that he seems to want to tell you.

His confession is simple and to the point. He just tells you that he has feelings for you and he hopes you feel the same way. He doesn't say anything afterwards, simply just waiting for you to say something in response. You're at a loss for words, not sure what to say to him but the gentle touch of your palm against his cheek is confirmation enough for him for now.

Rafayel doesn't really know what to do now that he's decided that he needs to confess to you. He knows that his feelings for you are intense and almost all consuming, his mind constantly on you and his hands always itching to create something in your likeness or something that he thinks you'd like.

Painting is something that comes easier to him than words. He doesn't know how he'd want to confess his feelings for you. Nothing feels like it's the right way to do it - all of it is just...not enough for him. He can't accurately portray the depth of his feelings for you in such a simple manner.

You find him agonising on the floor, staring up at his ceiling with a notebook. You thought that it'd be nice to surprise him, knowing that Rafayel was upset that you were a little too busy to make it over to his place that night. Thankfully, you got out of work early and thought that it'd be fun to visit him regardless. You punch in the key code and easily make it to where he is clearly lamenting, wanting to see if you could decipher the reasoning by reading through the notebook by his head.

He immediately snatches it out of your hand, sitting straight up and pouting at you. You know that when he's like this there's nothing you can do to change his mind from whatever tantrum he's decided to throw. You decide to simply just sit next to him, waiting until he divulges whatever it is that has his mind spinning this time.

You don't expect him to immediately blame you, expecting the typical light hearted insults he throws your way. Your eyes widen in surprise when he starts flipping through the book, quietly humming to himself as he seems to be selecting something. It doesn't take him long to decide that he's frustrated with whatever it contains, rolling his eyes and giving you a cheeky smile.

He tells you that you should let him take you out a romantic dinner so he can tell you how much he cares about you. He just needs a bit of extra time to figure out how he's going to properly going to convey his feelings. You continue to stare at him, not sure what to make of his words but the slight anxiety in his eyes and shaky hands lets you know that he's being serious.

You nod gratefully, smiling at him and telling him how much you'd like it. He definitely goes all out, planning a perfect dinner that's tailored to your tastes at a place where the menu doesn't have a price. The second the two of you are seated he spins a story about how much he loves you and that his life would never be complete without you - you are his muse and he's never been more inspired than when the two of you are together.

He loves the colour that your cheeks flush, memorising the colour to recreate later. When you let him press a kiss to your knuckles and nod shyly he beams at you, promising himself in that instant that he'll make himself worth your love.

[takes1]

bratty tsukishima x manager!reader enemies to lovers

warnings. none for this part. stay for steamy stuff in later parts ;) content. tsukki not knowing how to handle a crush/enemies to lovers!/manager!reader/gn!reader for this part, could change?/passive-aggressive tsukki/daichi being a friend/suga being a friend/future smut/future sexual frustration notes. i'm branching out! first haikyuu fic! not done with mha but it just doesn't motivate me to write rn :( links. masterlist for mha. my ao3. PART TWO HERE. PART THREE HERE. PART FOUR HERE. FINAL PART HERE. haikyuu collection

You were walking back with a full case of freshly mixed sports drinks for the team when the whistle blew for a break. The entirety of Karasuno was on you at a moment's notice, rowdy despite their long practice.

A plethora of 'thank you's and appreciative mantras filled your heart as you were able to hand out bottles.

The first to swipe them were the first-years that sprinted up to you, trying to beat each other in their own intense, but good-natured race. Then the less excitable members, like your fellow seniors, that gave you slower and sincere thanks, shoulder pats, and tried to engage you in conversation.

Except, you had to make sure everyone got theirs. Which left the bane of your existence.

He sucked his teeth and looked away, disinterested in hydrating as soon as he realized you were handing them out.

"Tsukishima, come on," Suga heeded a subtle warning, but his mistake was turning away to speak to the others- and not following up to ensure the first-year did this simple task.

You weren't going to hold up a bottle for the kid all day. This was ridiculous and beneath you. Your arm slapped down to your side.

Everybody knew he had some issue with you. His disliking for you was nearly automatic upon being placed on the team, but it had somehow grew to a new intensity each day you had to interact.

Little instances like this one added up quick. And it didn't take long to notice, especially amongst your longest friends.

It boiled down to something about you being enough to piss him off, much like Hinata and Kageyama of his own class. For those two, it was relatively harmless bullshit. For you, the structure of the team hinged on him listening to you as his senior and manager.

"I really don't know what's gotten into him-- I-I'm so sorry," Yamaguchi spoke through gritted teeth.

He would've blabbed for much longer on his friend's behalf like usual, but he stopped short with a chill when he found your mirrored cool, upward stare.

"You don't need it anyway," You set his full bottle back into the case with a loud thump, "You haven't even sweat today."

It was a tad bit of an exaggeration, but his growing habit of letting certain spikes through had been prevalent enough to catch your attention. It bothered you because not only did he so quickly run out of steam -much sooner than the others who got the same court time as him-, but Coach didn't always notice his faults the same way you could.

You didn't try to look at him more than the others, truly. Your job hinged on being objective and you liked to think you did a great job at that. Lately though, it'd been tough not noticing every little shitty idiosyncrasy of his.

The way he hit the ball. The curve of his body into the net when he leaped into the air. The angle he liked to hit. The side he favored. The amount of steps he took before he jumped.

He wasn't as skilled as he let on. They could all use improvement, but his cockiness really ate at your patience. The others at the very least pretended to listen to you, and most took your criticism as a chance to improve. God forbid you comment on his faults, though.

The last time you did, his face had frozen with that ugly, twisted expression for the rest of the match.

Almost as soon as your accusation met his ears, that unbelievably fake calm demeanor crumbled into one serious mixture of aggravation.

His jaw tightened and he glanced around your stone-cold stare.

Bitter, he almost seemed to loom over you as he wiped his forehead with an oversized palm. His gaze remained unfaltering, ever so hateful, and he squeezed a closed fist in between you.

Sweat drip, drip, dripped onto the gym floor.

Head cocked, he opened his mouth to speak-- but Daichi slapped a mighty hand onto Tsukishima's upper arm. His forced grin -a welcome sight at this point- came into view.

"Thank you for volunteering to mop today, Tsukishima!"

Sometimes, when you had these types of exchanges, everyone else just sort of... fell away. Despite some polite cover-up conversations, most of the other players had a sensitive ear to his attitude problem with you. They were practically trained to listen to you speak-- this, compounded with Tsukishima's quiet demeanor, and the gym usually fell just short of completely still.

The blond's scowl elicited your covered laugh as you were pulled away. Suga warned you quietly to not get too caught up in talking to the first-years, but it was difficult to focus on his words.

"Thanks," Was punctuated with the sound of Coach's whistle- he gave you a sympathetic expression and ran off.

You didn't realize how worked up you got until they all returned to the court to finish their spiking drills. They formed up in a neat line, one after the other.

Clipboard gripped a bit tighter, you took a big breath in. Then, out. Your heart settled.

Nobody likes confrontation.

SLAM!

Not unless they're a masochist or something.

SLAM.

Why did he have to pick on you? And not some bigger fish that was actually on the team? Your heart squeezed from the burden of it all.

S L A M !

Tsukishima turned to move to the back of the line, but made sure to catch your eyes before you could even think to ignore him. His expression was indescribable but nothing short of trouble.

@ me to be added to the taglist for this fic series! i have at least 4 more parts i want to do that will be substantially longer

[literaila]

a walk

gojo satoru x fem!reader

summary: you, satoru, and the children stumble upon a curse during your walk

warnings: a curse, info on reader's ct, satoru is annoying

last part | next part

*

year five.

your glare aimed at satoru is almost instinctive at this point. 

and so is the wall you’ve put in front of the children, a glowing white only you (and satoru) can see.

your muscles tense automatically, and you make eye contact with the curse standing in front of you. 

the mesh of flesh and bone curse, staring at you and your family like you're a meal, hot and ready for the taking. 

"want some," it says, taking a step towards you, "want some?" 

honestly, you're sick and tired of the weird things they all say. but before you can gesture at satoru--seriously, is he going to just stand there?--it's gone, in just an instant. 

and great. now you're going to have to go look for it. you doubt it'd prove a challenge for you, or satoru, obviously, but still. you're supposed to be taking a walk. hanging out. 

and it's just started raining, which is also probably satoru's fault.

your glare increases, and the two kids watch the two of you as you stare silently at each other. 

you can feel it when tsumiki pushes at your barrier like she's testing something, and you almost smile. 

but then you remember exactly why it’s there in the first place. 

“satoru…” you say, in warning, in indignation, in ‘i’m going to kick your ass as soon as i deal with this.’ 

“what?!” he gasps, looking at you, and he’s already smiling guiltily. “i didn’t do anything. i don’t create curses.” 

his hands are raised in defense and he's taken several steps away from you. 

good, he should know his place. 

“oh, right, what’s the one benefit of the six eyes?” you ask, dryly, still much too close to him. “sensing the curses,” you grind out, an evil look on your face. 

you don't even care that he didn't immediately exorcise it. it's more that he's acting like an idiot, like a regular civilian with no ulterior motives--

satoru waves a hand, nonchalant. “so i missed one.” 

“we both know that you knew it was there.” 

“um, actually,” satoru looks towards the kids—still entrapped in your cage—with a grin. “we both don’t know that.” 

“i’m seriously going to—“ 

“there’s a lot of things to sense,” he argues, crossing his arms. his voice is boisterous, completely irritating. "not like you would know. it takes a lot of work to—“ 

“okay, you can go," you snap, almost eye to eye with him (minus the blindfold that is doing nothing for him). his hair is also ridiculous, dripping from the rain. he looks like a drooping dandelion. 

you should leave him outside until he freezes. 

“what?” 

“shoo,” you tell him, waving a hand. “take the kids and go home. i’ll deal with it.” 

“how is that fair?” 

“it’s fair because i’ll be beating up a curse instead of you.” 

“please," satoru scoffs, shaking his head at you. 

you roll your eyes. “and i can’t teleport, you idiot. take them, please. i don’t want tsumiki to get hurt.” 

you both look at them, standing there watching you, and megumi is shaking his head. you sigh. if only you could limit the sound within your objects. 

you already know what this is going to start up again--

“i don’t think megumi wants that,” satoru tells you, leaning in and smiling. his face is so close to yours that you can see the air he breathes. 

“do you want me to hit you?” 

satoru only looks at you, his face completely unbearable. he's obviously already won this argument, because you're terrible at denying megumi anything--which he knows--and you realize, suddenly, that he probably planned this. 

seriously, he needs to be banned from existence. 

“where’s the curse?” you ask him, voice low. 

satoru’s grin widens, and he doesn’t even pretend to look around. “hiding about a block away.” 

you release your technique, both of the kids immediately fall against nothing but air. tsumiki laughs at the rain that suddenly hits her, and megumi watches the two of you closely. 

you don’t look at them though, your eyes are only on satoru. 

there’s a tug at your side, a pull of your shirt. “can i stay?” megumi asks, his head brushing against your arm. 

he must've learned that pleading look from satoru because it immediately dissolves your anger. you don't even think, about to give in, and then--

“what a wonderful idea,” satoru says. “some light practice.” 

that calm disappears. on instinct, you answer. “no. go home with gojo and tsumiki. i’ve got it, bud.” 

tsumiki is looking around. she understands what curses are—and to the shock of everyone, she can see them—but unlike the rest of you, she has no natural defense from them. 

which means that satoru needs to hurry up and get her out of there. not to mention the fact that she doesn't like your job, and she doesn't really understand the way curses operate. 

and also, she's a bit skittish. 

“but you don’t know where it went,” megumi argues, his voice almost whiny, soft, and pitched. your brow furrows. 

finally, you lose satoru’s gaze and look down at him. “i can see, megumi. i know how to look for curses.” 

“hide and seek with a curse?” satoru chuckles, patting your head. you don't get the chance to slap his hand away before he takes a step back. 

you glare at him again, matching his obvious satisfaction. 

“my dogs can find it,” megumi says. “i want to help.” 

“no, megumi. we don’t even know how strong it is or what it can—“ 

“grade three,” satoru answers, automatically. “it can camouflage, but it shouldn’t be an issue with your traps and the demon dogs.” 

you turn towards him, eye twitching. 

satoru nods, knowingly. “oh, yeah, my eyes are good now. i think i just needed to adjust to the rain.” 

“satoru, i swear—“ 

“i better take tsumiki home,” he looks towards her. “ready, kid?” 

tsumiki barely has the chance to nod before they're both gone. 

you can hear satoru’s distant “good luck!”

every single nerve in your body is automatically on edge, ready to attack him--even though he's literally gone. 

and you would stomp your foot on the ground and throw a tantrum like a literal child except… 

your child is standing right there and there’s a curse roaming around. you don't want megumi here in the first place, and you definitely don't want him lingering around while the curse reeks havoc on who knows what. 

you swallow—preparing a million different punishments for satoru in your head—then look at megumi, immediately softening. 

“i can call satoru to come and get you,” you tell him, gently, trying not to plead. “really. you don’t need to worry about this.” 

megumi rolls his eyes. “why can’t i practice?” 

“because… you’re only eleven, kid. you don’t need to practice. when you’re ready for high school—“ 

“i want to help.” 

you sigh, nodding. of course he does. really, he was raised by two complete masochists with superpowers. he's watched you and satoru fight over responsibility for four years, learning about burdens from the champions of keeping them. 

what more can you expect? 

you would sit there and argue for a little longer. try to convince him that jujutsu isn’t a fun hobby to take part in, not something to mess around with—but, again, there’s a grade-three curse somewhere out there. and it’s raining. 

you're already a bit cold, and you want to get home as soon as possible so satoru doesn't get too comfortable. 

“okay,” you tell him, giving him a small smile. he looks silly with his hair dripping down his face, eyes widening in success. “go ahead.” 

megumi nods, flexing his hands. then he looks back up at you, taking a step back. and then he does it again. 

he repeats this process several times, preparing for something... you guess.

it's a bad enough reminder that you have no clue what satoru's telling him when they go off on their own, acting like the reckless little boys that they are. 

and you’re just about to tell him not to be nervous when he folds his hands together and whispers “demon dogs.” 

you could try to act unimpressed, but it’s pointless. 

really, the shadows responding instantly are amazing. in a single second, there are two puppies there, appearing from nothing more than thin air. 

and you know a lot about summoning, but you've never managed to bring anything to life. walls are entirely boring, you decide, looking at megumi's pets. 

isn't there a saying about your children succeeding you?  

“go on,” megumi tells both of the puppies, fortunately missing your astonished look, patting the black one’s head. “find it.” 

the two dogs respond with succinct barks, and then they’re gone, tails wagging as they listen to megumi's command. 

you wonder if you're going to have to give them both a bath later. you already know satoru will be complaining about the smell of wet dog. 

you turn to megumi with a smile, tilting your head. “now we follow them?” 

“yeah,” he takes a step forward. “this way.” 

you follow after megumi, trying to remind yourself that satoru has taught him about this--that he'll be fine, even if the curse does show up, because you're there. but it's difficult. your entire body is on high alert. 

you haven't felt this tense around a curse since you were fifteen.

megumi, as if sensing this, speaks up suddenly. “do you think i’m weak?” 

you look towards him with wide eyes. “what?” 

megumi continues to walk forward, seeming to listen to soundless signals from his shikigami. he doesn't look back at you.

“is that why you don’t want me to practice my technique? because you think i’ll get hurt?” 

your face falls, guilt seeping through your body immediately. stupid satoru and his impulsive decisions. this is his fault too. 

“oh, megumi, no. of course not.” 

“then why?" he asks, turning to look at you, his face is stern, comprehensive. "gojo thinks i’m ready.” 

you sigh, looking around a corner. this district is completely empty. if you weren't so distracted by satoru and his stupid smiles, you would've noticed the vibe around here earlier. you should've sensed the curse before it could come face to face with you, at least. 

you swallow, shaking your head. “it’s got nothing to do with you, megs.”

he looks at you skeptically. 

“really," you blow a breath out. "i think… your shikigami are very impressive. it’s just that you’re still a kid,” you shrug. “i don’t think you should get involved in jujutsu before you have to.” 

“but i want to.” 

you'd like to tell him about all of the things that you want. all of the things you know you can't have, because they don't make sense. because they're not meant for you. 

but then, you know, that this is meant for him. that he was born with a purpose, jujutsu or not. 

and clearly, he's powerful. at eleven he's got shikigami that listen to his every command. shikigami that would die to protect him. 

and two parents who would do the exact same. 

still, he's your little boy. he's still so young, still so vulnerable. and, yes, you know that you can't keep him away from your curse-filled world forever. you know that megumi should be making these decisions for himself. 

but is it so wrong to want him to stay small and yours? to want to freeze time to keep both of your children protected from everything possible?

“i know—i know. it’s…” you give him a small smile, bizarrely proud of him all of the sudden. his tenacity, his strength. his willingness to ask you this in the first place. “it’s about me, really." you look away from him, sniffing in the rain. 

megumi is lingering at your side now, walking right next to you. you wonder if he's cold. you should've grabbed an extra jacket or an umbrella. 

"when i was your age," you continue, eventually. "i didn’t want to be a sorcerer, and, obviously, i didn’t have a choice. so i guess i just… don’t want to push you into it.” 

“you’re not,” megumi says, automatically, frowning. “why not?” 

“hmm?” 

“why didn’t you want to use jujutsu?” 

you smirk at him a little, a bittersweet feeling filling you, shaking your head. “my technique isn’t as cool as yours, you know.” 

“it’s cool,” he argues, but then he looks away. 

because you both know that he doesn't really understand how your technique works--not his fault, of course, but yours. you've been hesitant to tell him about it. it's not as easy to show as satoru's, and not as useful. 

still, maybe if...

you hold your hand out towards him. “try it,” you tell him, gesturing down. 

megumi furrows his brows but does as you say, reaching his hand toward yours. 

and when his hand is pushed back, kept away from your skin, he frowns. he tries it again, stopping in his tracks. you both pause there, standing in the rain. it doesn’t work, so he does it again. 

and then you release the barrier, grabbing his hand with a grin. it must startle him because he jumps. “see?”

megumi purses his lips, looking up at you. “like gojo?” 

“sort of. it’s more stationary, and it can’t stop any cursed techniques. your dogs could probably get through it if i was tired enough.” 

megumi looks down at your intertwined hands, still frowning. you squeeze his tiny hand in yours, feeling your system relax. 

he hasn't let go yet, so neither do you.

“when i was a kid, i couldn’t control it. someone would try to grab my hand,” you say, swinging his, “and they couldn’t. i thought something was wrong with me.” 

“oh.” 

you take a step into him, dragging him along as you resume walking. “that’s why i didn’t want to be a sorcerer. i thought it was… bad.” 

megumi looks up at you, eyes contemplative. “that’s why you left home?” 

a bit of a euphemism, but you shrug. megumi doesn’t need to know the gory details of being tossed out on the street with nothing but a jacket and some shoes. 

“yup.” 

he looks away, nodding. 

you're less worried about the curse now. he's close enough that you'll keep him safe, and you're assuming that his dogs haven't seen any sign of it yet. 

“i'm always gonna be worried about you going on missions,” you tell him, a bit softer now. completely serious. “but not because i think you’re powerless, or anything of the sort.” 

“really?” 

you laugh, shaking your head at him. 

you really do adore him. it's a shocking feeling, a strange love you wouldn't trade for anything. 

your children might be your greatest gift.

“if you ask me, megumi, and don’t tell him i said this, but i think you’ll rival satoru for strength someday.” 

he looks up at you, his lip twitching. 

“you might even beat him,” you add. 

he’s about to say something when he stops, looking forward again. one of his dogs trails up to him, panting softly. 

megumi looks down, silently communicating with the puppy, and then he gestures his head to the left. “this way,” megumi says, looking around. and this time, you just let him lead. 

you'll keep him safe, you know, and he probably doesn't need your help anyway. 

*

"so, how'd it go?" satoru asks, as soon as the two of you walk through the door. 

you know he's been waiting there the whole time, probably trying to resist the urge to text and make sure that you were both doing okay. 

he's overbearing and completely stupid. 

and his smile is very telling, just a bit hesitant. 

"mom says that i'm better than you," megumi says as he walks past him, making sure to shake his hair out onto satoru's pants. 

the man's jaw drops, looking at you. 

"what?" you say to him, shrugging. "i wasn't gonna lie to him."

*

next part | series masterlist

[doctorbunny]

MILGRAM Hallucination Booklet Translation pt.1 (Yamanaka and DECO*27 Interview)

Context: This interview was from a booklet handed out at the MILGRAM Hallucination live show on the 21st January 2024 (if you want a copy you can buy it here) This translation was made possible by the generosity of @maxpawb sharing images of his booklet with me This translation is mostly my own, but @maristelina helped me with some sections. Now without further ado:

Q.01 Introduce Yourself. I'm Takuya Yamanaka. I'm the creator/planner/screenwriter for MILGRAM. I'm DECO*27. I work as the music producer for MILGRAM. I like Hatsune Miku.

Q.02 What reactions from the guards have been the most surprising so far? Yamanaka: There are a lot of guards that were born overseas, aren't there? Even though it's created with rather Japanese sensibilities, overseas audiences didn't seem to mind at all. Though the countries and sensibilities are different than what I anticipated, votes have become more multifaceted, it's very interesting, isn't it? DECO: To forgive or not forgive the prisoners what do you do, whether it goes as you expected or the result turns out to be quite the opposite, its fascinating. Maybe your nationality affects the kind of criteria you use to make judgements? I've been thinking about something like that.

Q.03 Is there anything you didn't imagine would happen at the start of the trial? Yamanaka: I didn't write it with a large overseas audience in mind, because from the start I wasn't worrying about popularity at all, I simply didn't think I'd be watching over so many guards. Milgram was developed as a more underground project, but it's popularity is a good surprise, isn't it. DECO: There were more people who got into MILGRAM without already caring about my music than I imagined, it was surprising. I feel like MILGRAM has spread further beyond than what I thought it would. I'm very grateful!

Q.04 So far, what's made you the happiest? Yamanaka: Everything. As a creator it brings me great joy to see a work that existed in my mind, take shape and be enjoyed by so many people. Other than that, because I also love the characters I've birthed, seeing all the guards talking about them and sharing their thoughts, both positive and negative, has to be the best feeling. DECO: It makes me happy to see lots of people analysing the meanings I put in my songs! The theories get pretty close to the truth too, I think... the power of all the guards is really cool.

Q.05 So far, what has been the most challenging? Yamanaka: Because I have to change the script in accordance with the audience's decisions, I can't create the entire story in advance. Furthermore, as of the second trial, there aren't only individual character storylines, the prisoner's verdicts begin to emerge and they influence each other. That is to say, I can't start writing until after everyone's results are out. Willingly subjecting myself to doing something this unreasonable, is what I feel is difficult for me. But because DECO*27 is also going through the same hell, we're holding on to some semblance of sanity. DECO: The story changes in accordance to all the guards' choices, and the music has to be written to match. I think this is harder for Yamanaka-P, who writes the script, than it is for me... But though its tough, I feel its really worthwhile, It makes me really happy to be able to communicate with everyone through my songs!

Q.06 Do you have any regrets like "I wish I had done it differently back then!"? Yamanaka: I've thought it over quite carefully, but there's nothing in particular. I think everyone involved in the project is giving it their all and its a really passionate environment. DECO: Nope! I've been able to put all the things I've thought of into my songs.

Q.07 Which prisoners are the easiest to write dialogue/music for? Yamanaka: If I had to pick one, it'd be Fuuta. He's the type of person that's pretty easy to write because his brain never shuts up. Other than him, Yuno and Shidou are relatively academic kids in theory, so they're easy to write because they're very clear when it comes to what they want to convey. [TL note just because its funny, the idiom Yamanaka uses is lit. "There is barking in the inside [of Fuuta's] head] DECO: It went smoothly for all of them!

Q.08 Which prisoners are the most fun to write dialogue/music for? Yamanaka: Muu's lines were the very fun to write~. I'm fascinated by her approach to life and can't help but envy how fun it must be to behave like that. Yuno and Amane are my runners up. I enjoy writing the kinds of characters who plainly state their ideas and speak eloquently. DECO: Mahiru! From the start writing about the relationships between men and women has been what you might call my forte, its enjoyable to make. I feel like this is also why I find Yuno easy to write for.

Q.09 Which prisoners are the hardest to write dialogue/music for? Yamanaka: Overwhelmingly, Haruka's dialogue takes me the longest to write. I have to use the parts of my brain that I wouldn't normally use to figure out how to not just directly convey what he wants to say. DECO: None of them!

Q.10 What's your favourite combination of characters? Yamanaka: Amane and Shidou. They're on completely different wavelengths about everything, and the best part is that there's no getting around it. My second pick might go to Yuno and Muu. They don't get along at all so their fights are never just superficial squabbling. DECO: I always like the interactions between Es and the prisoners. I'm liking how over the course of the voice drama interrogations, Es seems to be gradually coming to understand the prisoner's humanity. Especially Es + Mahiru!

Q.11 Do you want to be friends with any of the prisoners? Yamanaka: Shidou and Kazui. I like the idea of being friends with professional people. I think that people who choose to go into something specialized, its clear they have a kind of resolve and that's charming, isn't it? DECO: Yuno! I feel like she'd be easy to talk to. She seems like she's used to friends who maintain a good distance from each other. [note: while 'good' here can mean a fair amount of distance, in Japanese relationships the concept of boundaries is also built into the idea of distance, so in English you might talk about someone who is a close friend but still has good boundaries, but in Japanese this is someone who has the 'right amount'/ちょうどいい of distance from you, so this could mean Yuno doesn't have any close friends or that Yuno is just a good friend because she isn't going to turn up to your house unexpectedly and eat all the food in your fridge]

Q.12 Do you want to date any of the prisoners? Yamanaka: I love all of my characters a lot, but, well... how should I say it... I don't think I would date any of them. [TL note: I had to shift the wording to be more natural in English but the Japanese Q is more like 'which prisoner would you want to be your boy/girlfriend?' curse english for not having an exact equivalent to koibito, so Yamanaka's answer is more like 'I think would break up with all of them' its a nominal difference but my friend said to mention it bc its funny] DECO: I'm sorry.

Q.13 What's your favourite line/phrase? Yamanaka:

[Scene from Muu's first voice drama Crying B, TL taken from MILGRAMMER]

Es: Judging from your facial features, are you what they call “half-Japanese”? [lit. haafu/Half] Muu: Yeah… I’m biracial. [lit. daburu/Double]

It would have to be that wouldn't it? I got goosebumps when I wrote it it. DECO:

"It's not my fault"

I think that single phrase was able to represent Muu's character really well, if I do say so myself.

Q.14 Are there any prisoners that you think its good they're in MILGRAM? Yamanaka: All of them. Without these 10 people, this Milgram would be a complete failure. DECO: Without these 10 people, MILGRAM wouldn't exist!

Q.15 Is there anything the guards aren't aware of yet? Yamanaka: Of course, there may be some minor details, but I don't think there are any major points missing. The mysteries have already disseminated, I feel the full picture will be clearly revealed if the theories and wild speculations, which have been shared around the world, come together. As expected. DECO: There are! I hope you look forward to the gimmicks I wanted to put in my songs that will come out in the third trial!

Q.16 Is there anything you haven't been able to do up to now, but you want to try doing after this? Yamanaka: I want to do a stageplay. Every performance would be a different story set in Milgram. If anyone reading this is involved with stage productions, please contact me. [I can't find it now but I swear a while ago Yamanaka tweeted something similar like "I'm interested in doing stage adaptations of Caligula Effect or MILGRAM, if anyone is involved with stage production please contact me" I hope he does it, a MILGRAM stage play would be awesome] DECO: Fortunately, I'm already doing everything I want to do! Writing the trial 3 songs couldn't be more fun.

Q.17 Represent "MILGRAM" in one word. Yamanaka: 『人』 "People" DECO: 『噓』 "Lies" [This one is both simple and interesting so as a preview I'll share how akka and DMYM answered] akka: 『幻』 "Illusions" DMYM: 『信』 "Faith"

Q.18 Give a brief comment about the future of "MILGRAM". Yamanaka: There have already been plot developments that I personally wish I didn't have to write. The guards have all chosen a very intense path. It's frightening. I've also been ready to obey these choices since the start of MILGRAM, so I think we all should enjoy this story that can only be told once together. DECO: I've already started writing the prisoner's songs. It's hell. Please prepare yourselves. Q.19 A message for the guards. Yamanaka: Thank you for always looking after the prisoners. Milgram is a work that involves the participation of everyone, including yourself. The thoughts you had, the actions you took, the joy, and resentment you felt towards this prison, all this became a part of Milgram too. I would like you all to please live healthily in your realities alongside Milgram. DECO: Thank you for your hard work as guards. Although MILGRAM is full of troublemakers, we would be grateful if you could continue to watch over us for a long time to come. We will do our best to meet your expectations.

[A link to part 2 will be posted here when its ready]

(Japanese transcript under the cut)

Q.01 自己紹介を。 山中拓也です。 ミルグラムでは企画・原作・脚本をしています。 DECO*27です。 MILGRAMのサウンドプロデューサーを務めています。 初音ミクが好きです。

Q.02 これまでの看守たちからの反応で驚いたことは？ Yamanaka: 海外にもたくさんの看守が生まれるていったことですね。とっても日本的な感性で創っているので、海外ウケとかきにしていませんでした。やはり国が違うと感性も違うものだと思うので、より多面的な投票がされて、とても面白いですね。 DECO: 囚人が赦すor 赦さないのどっちになるか、と自分で予想していたりもしたのですが、結構それが逆の結果になっていることがあって興味深ったです。もしかして国民性で判断基準が違ってくるのかな？とか考えたりしました。

Q.03 審判開始時点では思い描いていなかったことはあるか？ Yamanaka: 海外ウケ気にしたことないと書きましたが、そもそもウケ自体あまり気にしていなかったので、シンプルにこんなにたくさんの看守の方に見守っていただけるコンテンツになるとは思っていませんでした。もっと、アンダーグラウンドで展開するつもりだったんですが、嬉しい悲鳴ですね。 DECO: 想像以上にDECO*27を知らない方にもMILGRAMを観てもらえたことに驚きました。自分の思っていた以上にMILGRAMが広がったなと感じています。ありがとうございます！

Q.04 これまでで一番嬉しかったことは？ Yamanaka: 全部です。自分の脳内にしかなかった作品が、形になり、たくさんの人に楽しんでもらえること自体がクリエイターとしては大きな喜ぶです。あとはやはり僕は自分が産んだ登場人物のことが大好きなので、プラスでもマイナスでも看守の皆様が彼らについて語って、想いをぶつけてくれいることが最高に嬉しいです。 DECO: たくさんの方に自分が音楽に込め��意味考察してもらえた嬉しいです！かなり正解に近い考察もあって、看守の皆さんのパワーすごいな…と思っています。

Q.05 これまでで一番大変だったことは？ Yamanaka: ユーザーの選択によって、シナリオを変更をするので、あらかじめ制作することができないということです。しかも二審からは個人のストーリーラインだけでなく、他の囚人の結果による影響も出てくる。ということは全員の結果出てからじゃないと制作できないということです。そんな無茶を勝手に自分でやりはじめて、勝手に自分で大変な思いをしています。同じ地獄をDECO27も味わっているので、なんとか正気を保っています。 DECO: 看守の皆さんの選択に応じてストーリー変化し、それに合うように音楽を書くことです。これは僕よりもシナリオを書く山中Pのほうが大変だろうな…と思いますが…大変ではありますがとてもやりがいをかんじていますし、曲を通じて皆さんとコミュニケーションが取れていることが嬉しいです！

Q.06　「今思えばやっておけばよかった！」のような後悔はあるか？ Yamanaka: よくよく考えてみたんですが、特に無いです。制作に関わる全員がベストを尽くしてくれているとてもアツい現場だと思います。 DECO: ないです！思いついたことはすべて楽曲で出力できています。

Q.07 シナリオや音楽の制作がスムーズな囚人は？ Yamanaka: 一人あげるとすればフータでしょうか。頭の中でわんわん言ってるので、かなり書きやすいタイプです。あとはユノや、シドウあたりの比較的理論的で偏差値高めな子たちは何が伝えたいかが明確なので書きやすいです。 DECO: みんなすんなりでした！

Q.08 シナリオや音楽の制作が一番楽しい囚人は？ Yamanaka: セリフを書いていて一番楽しいのはムウですかねぇ~。こんなふうにふるまえたち人生楽しいだろうという憧れすあります。次点でユノやアマネでしょうか。思想がはっきりしてて、弁の立つタイプは書くのが楽しいです。 DECO: マヒルです！自分が元々男女間の関係性を描くのが得意ということもあって、楽しく制作しています。そういった意味ではユノも書きやすいなと感じます。

Q.09 シナリオや音楽の制作に苦労する囚人は？ Yamanaka: 圧倒的にセリフを書くのに時間がかかるのはハルカです。彼が伝えたいことを、伝わらないようにする調整に普段は使わない脳を使います。 DECO: いないです！

Q.10 お気に入りの組み合わせはあるか？ Yamanaka: アマネとシドウ。すべての要素が噛み合わなさすぎて、どうしようもないところが良いです。次点でユノとムウかもです。表面的なケンカにならないだけでかなり気が合わないので。 DECO: エス対囚人の絡みは須く好きです。ボイスドラマの尋問によって段々とエスが囚人の人間性を掴んでいく様が気に入っています。特にエス＋マヒル！

Q.11 囚人を友達にするなら誰か？ Yamanaka: シドウとカズイ。友達にいてほしい職業の人たちです。なにかのスペシャリストを選択する人たちというのは、何かしらの覚悟が決まっている人だと思うのでそれだけで魅力的ですね。 DECO: ユノです！話していて気楽そうだなと感じます。お互い良い距離感を保てる友達になれそう。

Q.12 囚人を恋人にするなら誰か？ Yamanaka: 僕は登場人物のことを全員最高に愛してますが、まぁ、なんというか、全員やめとこうと思います。 DECO: ごめんなさい。

Q.13 お気に入りのセルフやフレーズは？ Yamanaka: 「その顔立ち、ハーフというやつか？」「うん...…ダブル」ですね。書いてて鳥肌でした。 DECO: 「悪くないもん」 1フレーズでムウのキャラクターを上手に表現できたなと我ながら思っています。

Q.14 ミルグラムにいてくれてよかった、と思う囚人は？ Yamanaka: 全員です。この10人でなければ、このミルグラムになっていないので。 DECO: MILGRAMはこの10人がいなければ成立しません！

Q.15 看守たちにまだ感づかれていないことはあるか？ Yamanaka: もちろん、些末な部分はあるかと思いますが、大きいところだとないんじゃないですかねぇ。既に問題はバラまいたし、世界中に発信された考察や妄想を組み合わせたらきっちり全貌が明らかになる気がします。さすがです。 DECO: あります！第三審で僕が楽曲を通じてやりたかったギミックが出てくるので楽しみにしていてください！

Q.16 今できていないが、今後やってみたいことはあるか？ Yamanaka: 舞台がやりたいです。毎公演、コンセプトの異なるミルグラムで行われる舞台。舞台制作に関わる方が、読んでおられましたら是非山中まで。 DECO: 有り難いことに、やりたいことは全部やれています！第三審の曲を書くのが楽しくてしょうがないです。

Q.17 「ミルグラム」を一文字で表せ。 Yamanaka: 『人』 DECO: 『噓』

Q.18 今後の「ミルグラム」について一言。 Yamanaka: 既に僕が個人的には書かないでいたかった展開が確定しています。看守の皆さんなかなか強烈な道筋を選びました。恐ろしい。自分もその選択に従う覚悟をしてミルグラムをスタートしているので、一度きりの物語を皆さんと一緒に楽しもうと思います。 DECO: 既に楽曲を書き始めている囚人もいます。地獄です。覚悟しててください。

Q.19 看守たちへメッセージを。 Yamanaka: いつも囚人たちのことを世話してくださってありがとうございます。ミルグラムとは、参加する皆さん自身を含めてミルグラムという作品です。この監獄に対して感じた思い、起こした行動、喜び、 憤り 、それらすべてが作品の一部になります。是非ミルグラムと共にある皆さんの現実を健やかに生きてくださいませ。 DECO: いつも看守としてのお勤めご苦労さまです。曲者ばかりのMILGRAMですが、これからも末永く見守っていただけると幸いです。期待に応えられるよう、尽力してまいります。

[bumblesimagines]

look, the sex is great, but i don't want to get involved.

i don't feel that way about you.

Maddy Perez

look, the sex is great, but i don't want to get involved.

i don't feel that way about you.

Pronouns: He/Him/His, M!Reader

As much as he hated admitting it, house parties weren't a complete waste of time. Sure, half the time the only way to have fun was drinking until you were comatose and praying nobody caught the embarrassing moments on camera, but at least they were a good way at meeting others. (Y/N) merely had to wait for the party to really begin once everyone had a bit of alcohol or weed or harder shit in their system and were screaming the lyrics to whatever song the host put on, most often from a hip hop playlist full of songs about gangbanging or doing drugs put together by a suburban white kid who'd only ever touched weed once in their life. Sometimes, he'd wait around for Maddy and her posse to show up, wait a couple mintues while she pretended he didn't exist until the party bored her and she dragged him someplace private, but (Y/N) wanted to spice things up. After all, his father had always told him that 'men eventually get bored of eating the same meal everyday'. 

So, after scoping out the scene at the little house party some random classmate had thrown, (Y/N) found himself being approached by a pretty redhead he vaguely recognized from 3rd period English class and only had to take a few sips of the spiked punch before leaning in to kiss her. It'd all been going well. The redhead whose name slipped his mind the second after she told him had perched herself on his lap, the pink lipstick she wore certainty smudging against his lips though he hardly minded. He geared himself up to ask if she wanted to head upstairs, only for his eye to catch Maddy making a beeline straight for him with her two friends tripping over themselves to follow. 

He hardly had time to react before Maddy grabbed a fistful of the redhead's hair, a shriek of pain and surprise leaving the girl as Maddy pulled on it and dragged her right onto the floor. (Y/N) shot up from the couch while everyone around them moved out the way, making a circle around them and fumbling for their phones. 

"The fuck's the matter with you?!" The redhead shrieked, one hand holding onto Maddy's wrist in a vain attempt at getting her to let go. 

"The fuck's the matter with me?! Look at yourself, bitch!" Maddy shouted back at her, ignoring Kat and Cassie's pleading shouts for her to calm down until she finally released the girls hair with a forceful shove. The redhead grunted, touching the back of her head where Maddy had grabbed her before she reached for a nearby unattended cup and tossed it in Maddy's direction, drenching Maddy's miniskirt and most of her thighs in beer. A chorus of 'ooh's spread around the crowd, shining lights from phone's recording pointed at the two of them. "You dumb fucking slu-"

"That's enough, Maddy," (Y/N) coiled your arms around her waist before she could lunge for the girl and hauled her off, shoving his way through the crowd while she withered around in his hold, shouting insults and threats at the top of her lungs. Her nails dug into his hands, trying to pry them of herself while he searched for a door that hopefully led to an empty room. He found one by the stairs and opened it, flickering the night on and finding himself looking into the garage. Good enough. He walked in, minding the small step, and shut the door behind him with lock for good measure. 

"Let me go." Maddy demanded and he loosened his grip enough for her to wriggle free. She staggered forward and looked down at herself, irritably groaning and wiping her palms across her bare skin in hopes of drying herself. (Y/N) exhaled heavily and took a glance at the back of his hands, finding red lines from her nails. He typically never minded scratch marks, but only under the right circumstances. 

"What the hell was that about?" 

"Oh, I'm sorry for interrupting you before you could fuck that bitch infront of everyone. I didn't realize you were into that shit, my fucking bad." Maddy snapped, letting out a huff and raking her hand through her hair, pulling strands away from vision. She murmured angrily under her breath when she looked down at herself again before fluttering her eyes shut and taking in a deep breath. "Whatever. Forget about it, okay?"

"No, no I won't forget about you almost ripping some chick's hair from her scalp for no reason!" 

"You stick your tongue in her mouth for five seconds and suddenly you start giving a shit about her? Give me a break. She'll be fine, (Y/N). She'll have a headache for a couple hours and that's it." Maddy rolled her eyes and scoffed. "I didn't even hit her."

"That doesn't explain why you did it, Maddy. You were fine one second and the next you're trying to fight some chick you've never even spoken to before. What's your problem?" He stared at her and she refused to look back at him, instead keeping her head angled toward the tools hung up on the wall.  

"Forget about it, (Y/N). Let's just... let's just have some fun, okay?" Maddy exhaled softly and finally looked at him, her heels clicking against the concrete floor as she closed the distance and slung her arms around his neck, her perfume invading his senses and maroon-colored lips capturing his. He grunted, grabbing hold of her hips and pushing her back. "Come on, (Y/N). You know you would've ditched her for me if I asked."

"But you didn't, Maddy. You cockblocked me by dragging around that damn chick and you won't even tell me why. You getting jealous on me or something? 'Cause that's what it looked like." (Y/N) pried her arms off his shoulders and stepped around her, creating distance between them. Maddy crossed her arms, head tilting back and another groan leaving her mouth.

"So what if I was?"

"So what? Look, the sex is great, but I don't want to get involved with whatever bullshit you've got going on with Jacobs, alright? You're a cool chick, Maddy. You're practically perfect. But.. I don't feel that way about you. I've seen you and Jacobs. You'll never let each other go, and that's just not for me. I'm... sorry."

[lycheeloving]

ANOTHER MULTIVERSE FIC because I can't stop myself, apparently. An injustice!Superman one, this time. I imagine you were a small-time hero/vigilante in this one, so Superman knew (and liked) you before he turned bad, but you weren't super close, before.

-You wake up in an unfamiliar room, tied to a chair, not knowing how you got there. Kal doesn't ever let you leave the fortress. But you don't know how anyone else could have gotten in to take you here, wherever here is. Maybe it was Kal? But why would he do that?

-You spot a woman tied up in another chair next to you, it seems like she also just woke up. She reminds you of someone, but you can't remember who exactly... You want to ask her if she knows more about what's going on, when you realize you're both gagged. Shit. You can't even communicate with her!

-A man comes in, rambling something about how he's glad you're finally awake and about his plan finally taking shape. You feel like you should know this guy, but can't quite put a finger on it...

-Being unsure if you know who he is, as you're "not from here", he introduces himself. He's Lex Luthor.

-Wait. Lex Luthor? The Lex Luthor? The dead one, who was killed by Superman? Is this a prank? Because if so, it isn't funny at all. And quite dangerous for everyone involved.

-Luthor (if that is his real name) then focuses on the woman next to you. He addresses her as "Mrs. Lane".

-Lane as in Lois Lane? Like, Lois Lane from the Daily Planet? Clark Kent's, Superman's wife? Now you know something is extremely wrong. She's dead, too, and everyone knows not to mention her name unless they want to face Superman's wrath... You make a few muffled sounds beneath your gag, itching to ask about just what is going on here.

-Luthor says he's going to explain everything, don't be so impatient! He has a machine that can open portals to parallel universes, which is how he got you here. His plan includes kidnapping the person that is most important to Superman in his own universe (Lois Lane), the person most important to Superman in a second universe (You!) and then making the Supermen fight each other by threatening your lives. The only way to save you is if one Superman dies. This room is Superman proof, he can't hear or see anything that's happening in here, so they can't just swoop in and save you. After the fight, he's going to let the winning Superman enter this room, promising him that he can rescue Lois or you. Except not really, because he's going to try to kill the winner too, because that should be easier after he just fought another Superman, right? He hasn't opened a portal to let the Superman from your universe know about how he can save you, yet. He closed the portal he got you through immediately after kidnapping you, so he had more time to prepare everything. How he found you? Something about being able to detect kryptonian dna residue on you. And you were in Superman's fortress. Easy to combine that you must be important to him.

-That's... actually not a terrible plan! Sure, it might not work out exactly the way that Luthor is planning, but beating Superman with Superman is a great idea! Actually it'd be great if Luthor got a third one here. Two Supermen should definitely be able to defeat one Superman, right? Unfortunately you can't communicate any of this through your gag. Damn, you'd love to help him improve his plan...

-You wonder if he chose your universe completely randomly, or if he chose an evil Superman on purpose. You don't think he did, he didn't mention the regime with one word, and if it existed in this universe he wouldn't be working on this stupid plan. And Lois wouldn't be alive, probably.

-Before you can let your thoughts spiral even more, Luthor falls over. Huh? Is he unconscious? You spot Batman coming towards you. Ah. That explains that, then. Man, you haven't seen Batman in such a long time...

-"Are you two alright?" He quickly cuts through the ropes tying you to the chairs, freeing you. "Good thing you used your bat emergency-signal, Lois. I was able to get to you before Superman could fall for Luthor's trap." Wait, why would Lois contact Batman? Oh, right, sometimes you forget that he and Superman used to be friends, so obviously his wife would trust him too.

-He takes off both of your gags and then turns to you. "We figured out you're from a parallel universe, but don't worry, Nightwing is currently working on a way to get in contact with the Superman from your dimension, so-"

-"NO!", you scream, making Batman look at you in confusion. You quickly tell him to contact Nightwing, to make him stop trying to open a portal or god forbid, contact Kal!! Noticing the urgency in your voice, Batman quickly complies and lets Nightwing know to stop what he's doing, before asking you to elaborate. Phew! The last thing you need is an angry Superman wreaking havoc in a second universe.

-You start explaining to Batman about how your Superman started changing for the worse after Lois died (sparing the details, as she's kind of sitting right next to you), started to get darker, kill villains, everyone who did something bad, people who disagreed with him. Other heroes, even. People he used to be friends with. How everyone who didn't agree with him and join his regime, including you and Batman, had to go into hiding, trying to find a way to stop him. Clark, no KAL-EL found you at some point, but instead of killing you, he unexpectedly took you, basically imprisoned you. Kept you like a pet who's not smart enough to make their own decisions. (You never even knew he liked you like that at all, before that. Sure, he was always nice to you, but he had Lois!)

-Lois seems visibly shocked, whereas Batman just listens to you stoically. "All this to say, it's good to see you alive, Lois!" You smile weakly. She tries to smile back, but before she can respond, Batman cuts her off. "We should leave this place. I doubt it's very safe here. We should return to the Batcave, think of a plan." You spare one last glance at Luthor, who's still lying on the floor (Are we just going to leave him here? Huh. Ok.), then follow Batman outside.

-As soon as you're out of the building, something rushes past you. "Lois! Are you ok? Did he hurt you?" Not something. Someone. You try not to flinch as he fusses over her, while she reassures him that she's fine multiple times.

-After he's convinced she's not hurt, he turns to you with a gentle smile. "Hello! So you're close to the Superman in another dimension, then?" As he takes a step towards you, you instinctively take a step back towards Batman. Clark frowns at him quizzically. It's funny, he almost looks like a confused puppy. You would smile if you didn't know that this is all a facade to distract from his god-like, destructive powers.

-"Turns out the other version of you is some kind of evil dictator." Well, leave it to Batman to get straight to the point. Clark opens and closes his mouth a few times, thinking about what to say. "Well, I can assure you that I'm not like the Superman you know. I promise you, I'm a good person! At least I try my best to be one. You don't have to be scared." His voice is getting increasingly gentle, trying to reassure you.

-"Oh yeah? That's exactly what the Superman from my dimension would have said, before..." You don't mention his wife's death, not wanting to anger him. "The same thing could happen to you. You might be nice now, but who knows what the future holds?" As you're saying this, you slowly move slightly behind Batman. Just in case. He should have some kryptonite on him, right?

-Superman just frowns harder, then turns to Lois. "We should go home." He picks her up and turns to Batman. "Contact me as soon as you have plans for... handling the other me." With that, he takes off.

-Batman ushers you into the Batmobile, where Nightwing (another ghost, to you) is already waiting. You keep turning to look at him during the drive to the Batcave, while Bruce explains the situation to him. If they notice your weird looks, they don't mention it.

-You allow yourself to feel some hope. Maybe you can contact your Bruce? Help him out! Send a few still good Supermen! Your head is spinning with ideas, and you're sure Batman can come up with even better ones. You can't help but smile, your nightmare might finally be over...

[greentrickster]

Hey @somerandomdudelmao, I don't really art at turtle level, so instead have some words and be appreciated, dang it!!!

For Cass

And we ask you, "Did you know? Did you see how far you'd go?"

"No," you say, "I didn't know. Twice and thrice I'll tell you so,

For seeing here what would be done, who could believe they'd be the one

To take these pieces where they lay (where all believed they'd likely stay)

And make a thing so large and great? That's so much effort to create?

No, a simple sketch, a little fun, a single joke and it'd be done."

But here you are, just look around (unless you're busy breaking ground

On new types of pain and joy to see), note just how wondrous you can be.

How many minds you've set on fire, the stories, the art you did inspire,

Notes attached, parallels found, colours added (also sound),

Emotions too many to ever label (that time we went, "Hey, have a table!"),

Laughter enough to touch the sky, a dark lake fed on tears we cry...

And perhaps one day we all will part, ending this journey of the heart,

And when it comes, if you'll allow this one request: please take your bow.

For every chuckle, every twist, without you? They'd not exist;

Blame no destiny or fate, you are the cause that makes them great!

And all who read know I speak true: This story's heart was born of you.

So draw until you've had your fill, write whatever words you will,

Your footsteps untouched by time's sand

Say "Cass was here, and Cass was grand."

[yesimwriting]

Match Burns

A/n saltburn rewired a part of my brain

also my original idea was way too long for a one-shot so now i'm splitting it into 2 (maybe 3?) parts, if you'd be interested in that pls lmk lol

Summary: Despite your charm and kind disposition, Oliver has never been able to let himself be fond of you. Not with the way that Felix gravitates to you and your obliviousness to the attention. When you're invited to join him and Felix at Saltburn, his wariness of you morphs into an oddly suffocating dislike, until he realizes how to turn you into a way to get 'in' with Felix.

Pairing(s): eventual felix x reader x oliver, current oliver x felix (unreciprocated) and felix x reader (unreciprocated)

Warnings: potential typos (i'm tired yall), first time writing characters so potentially ooc?, canon-level toxic thoughts/plotting, some canon deviation (felix is alive and well to me and it's staying that way), oliver lowkey hating reader,, but kind of in the grown up version of a kid pulling another kid's pigtails when they have a crush lmao

----

The qualities that make the others adore you, that leave them with no choice but to treat you as some kind of dorm hall trapped princess, are the parts of you that make it difficult for Oliver to tolerate you.

You may not be the heir of some great fortune, the kind of commodity that can only be created through generations of pristine breeding and a lifetime of wealth that comes attached to that kind of pedigree. But you do have something.

His peers may see your self sacrificing nature in the ear you're always willing to lend or the time you're willing to give away without a second thought as instinctual kindness. But Oliver knows how to look beyond careful facades, the stained glass people use to warp the way they're perceived. He knows that your too sweet smiles and soft eyes are just your forms of social currency.

And the most off putting part of it all? The only person that can get away with pretending to not notice the way people react to you, is you.

Sometimes, when his thoughts drift to you without his permission, Oliver convinces himself that it's impossible for anyone to not see your softheartedness as the compensation that it is. And then someone--Felix, says something that is so transparently devoted, Oliver knows that it's worked. Give people what they want, and eventually you'll ensnare them.

Oliver let himself believe that he was finally reaching the peak of Felix's favor after being invited to spend the summer at his family's estate. Then, two days into his stay, Felix informed him that you'd be joining them at the end of the week.

The thought of you and your sense of humor that always seems to toe the line between witty and sarcastic; and the warm feel of your hand on his, or anyone's, arm, because when you listen you do so with your entire body; and your bright eyes that seem to see through everything but yourself, at Saltburn seemed to take something from this away from him. You didn't even need a sob story or to flash an indicator of something in desperate need of repair to get invited.

You were just you, and that was enough.

The way Felix told him only strengthened his chargin. She's friends with you, isn't she? I've seen you two together at the library.

The two of you. Not something that Oliver chose. You appeared one day at his side, on a too warm day for late November in Oxford. A too crowded library had the universe dropping you onto his lap. He accepted your presence because of the way the world seemed to light up for those around you.

But now there are no crowds of admirers to divide the attention. There is only Felix and his family, and with just two guests being invited to spend the summer, it'd be easy for the ultra wealthy to turn this into a competition for favorite pet.

It's also more than that. Alone here, it was easy to pretend Felix's attachment to you didn't exist. But now--now he could easily be the second favorite out of a set of two.

----

There was only one part of your arrival that Oliver was looking forward to, and you stole it from him.

He wanted to witness a crack, a wavering in your assuredness. The size of the estate would get to you, would make you--for once--seem small. You'd hesitate, maybe even see Felix in a different way that'd have you rethinking your friendship.

Your eyes had widened, a combination of shock and awe meshing together behind your gaze. Oliver could feel it, the moment that you'd reveal yourself as susceptible to shrinking in on yourself...and then your eyes met his, and the look vanished before it could fully take root.

You grinned at him and then at Felix, abandoning your luggage next to the car that picked you up before approaching them with unashamed enthusiasm. You pulled each of them into a quick hug, your warmth an ache against him. You didn't attempt to suppress your joy until Duncan appeared, standoffish as ever as Felix introduced you. That was just enough satisfaction to make Oliver want it more.

He's still thinking about it now, imagining just what it'd take to leave you vulnerable. You don't sense the resentful nature of his thoughts. You never do. Not even when Felix tells you that you'll be staying in the room connected to his through a shared bathroom.

Felix suggests giving you some time to rest before dinner. You accept the offer, tired from the back forth traveling from the UK to the US. Your visit to your mother had been so brief, you accepted Felix's offer so quickly. Maybe there's more tension in your family than you've admitted.

"She likes you a lot." Felix's low tone snaps Oliver out of his thoughts. It's a strangely nervous statement that doesn't make sense. You're friends with both of them, and if Felix means the statement in the romantic sense, he's wrong. Oliver's in the habit of taking note of the way people see him, and he can't remember instance in which you've ever looked at him like that.

He could see you feeling that way about Felix easily. You're around Felix often and while there is an underlying hint of stiffness when you're around him, it isn't a sign of dislike. You're determined to like him less, you're dedicated to not loving him. An amicable, but ultimately pointless goal. Who doesn't end up loving Felix?

Oliver doesn't know where this conversation is going, so he decides to keep his response simple. "She likes you, too."

"N--" Felix starts to deny the point, but realizes a full dismissal wouldn't be true. You do like him, it's just--it's different. "She trusts you." Felix shakes his head once, still uncertain. "I know we're friends, but sometimes, especially when we're alone, it-it feels like she sees me as a match that's starting burn too close to her fingers."

There it is. Oliver can't blame you for your precautions. Felix has turned the heads so many women--and some men--and he allows them to hang around him openly. His desirability, his options have never been secret. And your only overlap into his world is going to the same college. Oliver's even heard of you deciding to spend the night alone instead of with Felix because you don't always feel safe at those kinds of parties.

You're playing it safe, like a very good girl from suburbia, USA. It's your way of surviving, but Oliver can't quite respect the choice. You're smart enough to realize that loving Felix is like playing with matches, but you're not strong enough to realize that the proximity would be worth a few burns.

"I know we're a little different, but I don't want her to think I'd ever make her do anything." The obliviousness in Felix thinking that this is just about social circles is endearing in an odd way. "How'd you two get so close, anyway?"

Oliver isn't sure so close is the right way to phrase things. Sure, you're attentive and a little touchy, but that's just how people like you move through the world. Besides, if anything, Oliver thinks you choose his company so often because he's never given you the kind of desperate attention everyone else gives you.

Oliver forces a smile, pushing against the thought of being the one to bridge the gap between the two of you. It twists at his stomach. "What? Are you asking me for girl advice?"

Felix cracks a grin, playfully nudging Oliver with his shoulder. "You know how I meant it."

The words are light, but still another attempt at getting a concrete answer. There's an edge there that Oliver's familiar with, an implication of a feeling he's gotten used to. That chest tightening, what's so special about them? And now the Felix Catton is viewing him in that light.

Personal emotions aside, this--you--could be more useful than Oliver thought.

[whoopsyeahokay]

October Sun

summary: things had gone from weird to worse in a matter of seconds. it'd seemed all your secrets had decided to reveal themselves to Wally without so much as considering how you'd feel about it. you'd guessed that was the price you'd had to pay for your choice to share yourself with a member of Split River High's Afterlife Support Group.

pairing: Wally Clark x fem!reader

warnings: eventual smutty smut smut. and mad spoilers. and obvious Canon divergence. very involved, very dense plot.

bon reading, frens

___________________________💀

OCTOBER SUN pt.10

You were six, sitting on your sister Aurora's lap in a hospital room. Monitors beeped—long intervals, pitched notes—and, below that, your great-aunt's rattled breathing. Everything stank of disinfectant.

Ginny lay in the bed; pruned and pale, translucent skin hanging from her bones. She was just past seventy, but had aged several decades in the two weeks since the symptoms had started. Now, she looked like the skeletons your neighbors strung up for Halloween. Ghastly. Small.

Dead.

Mommy dozed in the armchair across from you, her head at an awkward angle, mouth ajar, one hand rested on her swollen belly. For days, she'd subsisted on nothing but good ol' fashioned Celtic stubbornness, running herself into the ground to undo whatever had put Ginny in the hospital. Nothing worked. Potions, pastes, blood spells, smudging rituals; it didn't matter what Mommy and Nanna did, Ginny's doctor insisted her condition was deteriorating.

It was so strange, you thought, that Ginny didn't just tell them herself. After all, she was able to stand in front of you without assistance and seemed much healthier than she had even moments ago.

She'd been asleep, silvery and thin and wheezy, and then her eyes had popped open and she'd gotten to her feet with the grace of a ballerina. Auburn hair in fluffy curls, pinned neatly away from her face; lips bright, Victory red, and skin peachy.

She was as pretty as a picture in a church bell skirt and smart, collared blouse, the colors much more suited to her than the starch white of the hospital gown. The pendant of her necklace was now one of a pair dangling from her earlobes, silver circles glinting in the sterile light.

"Are you better?" You asked her, marveling at her loveliness.

Ginny crouched to meet you at your level and placed her hand on yours, green eyes bright as emeralds in the sun. She smiled, "Don't tell mummy. This will be our little secret." She addressed Aurora next, "I'll be back as soon as I can, pet."

Aurora nodded, solemn, and you both watched Ginny greet a young man in similarly outdated dress as he entered the room. You didn't know who he was, but Aurora must've because she offered him a watery smile, eyes glistening.

"Where's Ginny going?" You asked her.

She shushed you, murmuring, "You can't tell mom, okay?"

Annoyed, "I won't." You weren't 3, you knew how to keep a secret. You'd kept plenty for your new friend Hana. Like her crush on the crayon stealer, Simon Elroy, or how she always took two milks at recess instead of one.

"She's saying hello to Grandpa Jack." Aurora told you, but you sensed there was a lot more to it than that. You gave her your best glare. She rolled her eyes, "They're probably going to try and find out what's wrong with her."

But, "She's better, dummy," you said, craning your neck to watch her swan out of the room with a man who'd died before you were born.

Aurora sighed the way she did whenever she thought you said something stupid and pressed her hand to your cheek, forcing you to look at the bed.

You gasped, astonished that, there, under the layers of quilts your Nanna had brought, was Ginny; breath rattling, monitors beeping, white as a china doll and asleep.

That was how you learned that Traveling meant something different to your family.

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

One second you were clung to Wally like a limpet, the next you'd vanished into thin air. Snapped out of existence like you'd never been there at all. Frantic, Wally looked left, right, to the back of the stage, and then spun around to face the rows of seats.

His jaw dropped, blood draining from his face. You stood at the top of the center aisle, shirt no longer rucked up the way Wally had made it; hair as tidy as it had been before he'd run his fingers through it; skin no longer sporting the perfect blush he'd coaxed to the surface.

Even from where he stood, Wally could see that your eyes burned a nebula of colors, the way they had when Wally caught up to you outside the school earlier. As soon as he'd registered it—proof that something magical had just transpired—they dimmed to their normal hue, just as the man behind you, Mr. Anderson, Wally identified, demanded, "What are you doing in here?"

He seemed angry, more so than the time Wally had watched him chew out a group of boys in the locker room showers for smoking weed. Mr. Anderson grabbed you by the arm and hauled you out of the theater like you'd been trespassing.

Wally charged up the aisle, thoughts of how you could fucking teleport taking a back seat to the desire to shove Mr. Anderson to the ground for assuming he had the right to touch you like that. The connection between you and Wally bittered, shrieked, fear and fury swirling together to pump through Wally's veins.

Oh hell no.

"I'm sorry," You apologized. Mr. Anderson released you, causing you to stumble from the momentum he'd used to force you into the hallway. "I won't let it happen again."

In an ill-fated attempt to wedge himself between you and Mr. Anderson, Wally checked the man's shoulder with his own, but little happened. Mr. Anderson had repositioned himself, almost like he'd anticipated the action, and the intention waned into a light graze. One that had no impact on the man, but that caused Wally to trip into the wall.

Mr. Anderson escorted you through the school toward your locker, gravely explaining that you'd overstayed your welcome by an hour and a half; the Wednesday team practices and club activities already packed up and gone.

Glancing outside, Wally was shocked to see the sky was dark. Apparently, making out with you was the equivalent of pressing a giant PAUSE button on the fourth dimension. He was sure no more than twenty minutes had passed since you'd jumped into his arms and kissed him within an inch of his sanity.

Teleportation and time manipulation? Wally gaped, images of his favorite comic book heroes swarming his mind. Holy shit, you were an X-Man. He had big fat feelings for a Mutant prodigy. Was he the Cyclops to your Marvel Girl?

Needing to do something to ensure Mr. Anderson wouldn't try to grab you again, Wally inserted himself between you and him. A move that appeared to influence Mr. Anderson to maintain the space Wally enforced with his presence.

Good, Wally thought, cracking his knuckles, because while he had no problem trying to beat his way into the living world to knock a few of Mr. Anderson's teeth out, he knew that would take a lot more than noble intention to pull off.

He loathed feeling helpless. Back in the day, he'd stood up for the kids who got bullied, had done his best to fend off the misguided idiots who'd used their post-puberty size for evil. Trouble was that now he couldn't do more than make a light flicker by concentrating really, really hard.

Don't be fooled: Dawn made it look easy, but it wasn't.

Finally reaching your locker, Mr. Anderson reiterated, "What were you doing in there?" His demeanor all wrong. Wally knew enough about the guy to know that, usually, he was a cool kind of dorky. Relatable. However, something had obviously possessed him because he was acting like you'd discovered his hidden collection of porn mags.

Wally didn't like it. He wanted Mr. Anderson to fuck off and leave you alone more than he'd wanted anything for a long time. Retaining his position between you and Mr. Anderson, chin up, hands balled into fists at his sides, Wally willed Mr. Anderson away.

You began, "I was just—" when Wally gritted out, stare fixed on the man's haggard face, "You don't owe this dickhead an explanation, baby."

But you spoke over him, "Mathilda asked me to look for something she'd forgotten in there yesterday. She's in the Mean Girl's Musical?" You supplied, and, jeez, you were quick on your feet.

Mr. Anderson was unimpressed, "For two hours?"

"No! No. I was studying in the library when she texted me."

Wally began to wonder how many yarns you'd had to spin for it to come so easily. Part of him was uncomfortable with the notion that it seemed like second nature to you, while another, bigger, part of him seared the way lemon juice stings a papercut.

He recognized it was self-preservation. A lifetime of harboring a massive secret that, okay, might not get you carted off in a straitjacket these days, but definitely wouldn't make it easy for you to go through life normally. He'd seen people ostracized for less. Like Katelynn who, a week before her death, had been spurned by her scene kid friends because she'd admitted to being a fan of Hilary Duff.

"Do you have to get anything from the library, then?" Mr. Anderson wanted to know, the V between his brows deepening when his phone buzzed in his blazer pocket. The third time in the short minutes since he'd found you.

"No." You said, cowed, even though you shouldn't be. He'd been the one whose conduct had been inappropriate. He should be begging for your forgiveness, not making you feel terrible like it was his job. "I swear, I won't let it happen again."

Wally's blood boiled.

"See that it doesn't." Mr. Anderson warned. His phone buzzed again. "Get your things and go home."

"Yes, sir."

Mr. Anderson unpocketed and checked his phone as another call lit up the screen. Private, the caller ID claimed.

"You'll have to use the main entrance." He said, already backing away, "Everything else is locked up." Then he leveled you with a dark look of authority, "I assume you can make your own way out?"

Wally could feel the tension in your muscles, could hear your heart stutter behind your ribs. His fingers twitched, itching to bust the man's head right off his shoulders. And, damn, when had he last felt such violent inclinations? Even against those prima donna bullies, the rage hadn't distended into anything remotely close to this.

"Yeah, I..." You cleared your throat, "Yes."

Mr. Anderson retreated and took the next call that came through, his bark of, "Give me a minute," resonating through the empty hallway as he disappeared around the corner.

As soon as he was out of sight, Wally spun on his heel to face you. You shrunk against your locker, arms folded around your middle and eyes faraway, chewing the inside of your bottom lip as you lost yourself in thought.

Wally moved into your bubble, the connection between you calmed, and smoothed his hands down your waist; one into the back pocket of your jeans, the other gliding back up and into your hair.

He pulled you gently against him, tucked your head under his chin and asked, "You good, pretty girl?"

He felt you nod into his chest, "Yeah. That was just every shade of weird imaginable. Something was off about him." You leaned away just enough to gaze up at Wally. "He's usually so...friendly."

Wally pressed a kiss to the top of your head, "I don't want you to stick around, babe. I don't trust that dude not to do something stupid if he finds you again."

"For real?" You sounded stunned, "Him?"

"Honestly? Yeah. He was giving off serious Bundy vibes. You didn't do anything wrong and he acted like you'd cold-cocked his mama." Wally glared in the direction Mr. Anderson had gone, concluding, "Maybe he's the reason Maddie's blood was splattered all over the boiler room."

"Jesus, Wally, it wasn't a Fear Street massacre." You shunned the idea, disentangling yourself from him to open your locker. After a moment of reflection, "Do you really think he's capable?"

As you grabbed your backpack and started to shove what you needed into it, Wally leaned on the locker beside yours, shrugging, "Like I said, Bundy vibes. And I can't stop him if he decides to come back with a machete, so please," he implored, "Get your stuff and let's go."

Thankfully, you took his advice without further argument. Pulled on your leather jacket, slung your backpack over one shoulder, and held your hand out for Wally to take as if it was something you did all the time.

Champagne-fizz burst in Wally's chest as he accepted the invitation, lacing your fingers together and setting a leisurely but purposeful pace toward the atrium.

"So," He began, "You lie like that often?"

Shame bled into your features as you cast your gaze to the ground. You didn't look at him when you said, "Only when I have to."

"Do you have to do it a lot?"

"More than I'd like, yeah." You shrugged, audibly unhappy about the fact. "Trust me, it's not that I want to. But my family has a strict No One Can Know policy when it comes to our..." You lifted your free hand and air-quoted, "gifts."

Wally bumped into your side sportively. He took a beat to consider his question before he asked it, unsure if he was ready to hear anything other than what he wanted to. "Do you feel like you have to lie to me?"

You stopped and drew Wally back the two steps he'd taken ahead. Looking him square in the eye, you promised, "I'm not going to lie to you, Wally. About anything. Ever." Once he nodded to accept he understood, you moved along, "And anyway, you're now in on the one thing I have to lie about. So, unless I'm under a Fidelius Charm, I honestly don't have anything else to hide."

"A what charm?"

"Do we not have Harry Potter in the library?" You asked as if to no one in particular.

"Oh man, yeah. Rhonda got really into those books for awhile." Wally sloped toward you to stage-whisper by your ear, "She's a total nerd for them. Says she's a Slytherin." Wally straightened and snickered, "Whatever that means. She'd kill me if she ever found out I told you."

You drew an X over your heart, "I won't tell a soul," before you released Wally's hand to push the door to the atrium open with both of yours.

As he followed you down the ramp toward the front entrance, Wally was unable to ignore the elephant in the room any longer, "When were you going to tell me you could teleport?"

It startled a laugh out of you, the kind that starts with a snort. A wave of fondness washed over Wally and he grinned stupidly at you, all teeth and soft eyes.

"I can't." You corrected. Rather, "I can, uhm, project...astrally."

Whoa. You were officially the coolest person Wally had ever known.

A barrage of questions threatened to spill out of him, ranging from reasonable to unhinged. And who could blame him? Normal people couldn't leave their bodies at will and surf the cosmos!

"Astral projection is real?" He asked in as even a tone as he could manage.

"Being a ghost is real." You countered bluntly.

And, "Touché." He conceded, "But you can't blame a guy for being surprised when something out of the Twilight Zone can happen in real life."

You seesawed your head, lips adopting a playful smile. God, you were beautiful. "Fair." You said, winking at Wally who was then forced to swallow the need to pick you up and pin you to the nearest wall with his mouth.

The air was crisp when you both exited the school. He walked you to the picnic tables near the bus stop, resting on the end of a tabletop and pulling you between his legs. Like this, you were pressed flush against him, body fitted so perfectly into his.

The connection rumbled and flared, erupting volcano-hot, piloting Wally's actions. He slid his hands from your waist down to squeeze the pert swell of your ass, and dragged your hips against his.

You gasped, delicate, and let your head fall to the side to expose the column of your neck. Wally took advantage. Brushed his dry lips from your collar to the hinge of your jaw, little darts of tongue and drags of teeth.

"Fuck, baby, you don't know what you do to me," He groaned, his dick fattening in his sweatpants. And he sure as shit meant it. The connection between you was driving him crazy, keeping teenage boy hormones in check an impossible battle.

He rolled his hips, chasing the friction, using the leverage he had with his hands in your back pockets to drag you into his lap. He rearranged himself on the table, slid back to sit more comfortably, and encouraged you to rut against him.

Wally kissed you like it was the last time, like this was the only chance he'd ever have to do it. Slow, deep, slick. The sounds you made, fuck, wanton and needy; moans and gasps and punched-out sighs.

And then, because, of fucking course 'and then'—your phone buzzed right in Wally's palm. Long, sequential blitzes of vibration. A phone call.

You groaned in annoyance, taking your phone when Wally graciously handed it to you, and answered.

"Hey," You greeted, head on Wally's shoulder and body still.

His mama had raised a gentleman, he reminded himself and curled his long arms around you in a loose embrace, repeating football stats in his mind to cool his erection.

"Yeah," You were saying, "Yeah, I know, but I got caught up in the...Well, mom's a big girl, I'm sure she can find someone else to shake the floorboards this one time."

Wally tried to give you an inquiring look but the angle was too awkward, so instead he filed that tidbit away for later, above astral projection but below In Betweens. And, shit, that's right, you were both supposed to discuss your fritzy ghost powers, not dry hump on school property. Oops.

You growled, climbing off of Wally altogether and hopping to the ground, pacing as you expressed with sarcasm and sass, "Why don't you get your new husband to do it, or are we still keeping him in the dark about the family business?"

Wally barely made out the, "Could you stop being such a selfish little brat for o—" before you hung up on who Wally surmised was your sister. With your back to him, he couldn't tell how you felt about the exchange, but from the tension in your shoulders and how forcibly measured your breathing had become, he thought it was safe to assume not great.

"You guys don't get along?" He ventured.

On a last, heavy breath, you twirled back around, "Actually, we get along really well." You sucked your teeth, "It's our mom's choice of occupation that puts us at each other's throats." Wally knew what was coming, couldn't soften the disappointment. "I gotta go." You said regretfully.

He plastered on a smirk, aiming for levity but sounding too dismayed to stick the landing, "You'd think the universe didn't want us to help Maddie."

In what Wally could only describe as a fit of absolutely fucking not, you strode right up to him, slung your arms around his neck and pulled him into a hot, middle-finger-to-the-sky kiss.

"Fuck the universe," You said when you parted, breathless, perfect, his, "I'll come in early tomorrow. Like, seven-thirty-early. Can you meet me in the parking lot?"

Repeating his words from earlier, "Anything for you, pretty girl," Wally vowed, grinning at the prospect of cuddling up somewhere intimate with you in the morning.

Although his thoughts weren't wholly innocent, he recognized within himself the genuine desire to do anything to be near you, for however long you'd give him. Whether that was two minutes or two hours, Wally would be grateful.

"Great," You smiled, bright against the dark autumn evening, "I'll see you then."

A final, sweet stamp of your lips to Wally's cheek and you went on your way, Wally having to watch as you stepped over the boundary of the school grounds and into a world where he couldn't follow.

"Can't wait," He uttered and the connection between you both quieted completely.

💀___________________________

PART NINE - PART ELEVEN

also available on AO3!

MASTERLIST

[auncyen]

one scene that's been on my mind for like a week and I'm not sure if will make to final draft or not

-

"Vaugarde's requirements for citizenship are quite relaxed compared to other countries. No doubt they'd welcome one of the Saviors with open arms." Odile looks to the side. "And, well, we could look into other countries as we travel. Poteria is a bit stricter, but I think still a possibility. Ka Bue, too, if you like it."

"...I thought gaining Ka Buan citizenship was really hard?" you ask, puzzled. "I've only heard of one way for becoming a citizen."

Odile's cheeks darken. "Well...I didn't expect you to already know that, but...yes, there's only one way you could become a Ka Buan citizen. I'd be willing to...Siffrin? What are you making that face for?"

Are you making a face?? Oh no, oh no, you're going to upset her, but how can you NOT make a face when she's proposing-- "O, Odile, I'm flattered, but--"

Odile's eyes widen. "Siffrin, wait--"

"I can't marry you??"

"WHAT," Isa booms, and the table rattles when his hands slap down on it in surprise. Bonnie jumps; Mira squeaks. "M'DAME?!! YOU?!"

"THAT IS NOT WHAT I WAS PROPOSING," Odile yells before pointing a finger at Isabeau. "YOU. CALM YOURSELF."

Isa folds his arms and sits back in his chair with a pout. He's...sulking???

....Wait, does Isa like Odile? Like that? They do go out drinking together every so often, but... that doesn't seem right. He called her Mom once. The whole idea makes you feel weird. But then why is he sulking?

"Gems alive," Odile sighs. "The one way for a non-native to gain Ka Buan citizenship is to become part of a Ka Buan family. So if we're going to get into the specific methods of joining a family, there are, in fact, two ways. The first is marriage, which. No. Absolutely not."

Absolutely not!!! You nod firmly.

"Though I am curious, Siffrin, as to why you 'can't' marry me?"

There is a very pointed eyebrow pointing your way. You try not to sound too nervous as you answer, "Well, it'd just--it'd be weird, wouldn't it?!" She said it herself! Absolutely not!

"...Fair enough. Isabeau's already made it very clear he wouldn't give us his blessing." Odile glances sidelong at Isabeau, a smirk tugging at one corner of her mouth. Isa's face is wine-dark as he tries to shrink into his chair, which looks silly with him being such a big guy. "The second method and what I meant is adoption."

"But you don't want to be a mom," Bonnie says, confused.

Odile pulls a face. "Which makes it very fortunate Siffrin is an adult who doesn't need a mother. Adult adoption is usually used to navigate inheritance issues, but I think this would be an apt use for it. Both my parents were travelers... perhaps in my own travels, I heard rumors or had some chance encounter and found the half-sibling I never knew existed before. And thus, I decided to correct the family registry to include them."

"...I don't look a thing like you," you say. "Do I look like either of your parents??? At all???"

Odile lets out a sharp laugh. "Oh, no, not one bit. But we don't need to prove any blood relation for an adoption--that's just what I'd tell the nosier neighbors, to see them try to work that out."

You can't help laughing at that explanation. Odile's younger sibling, helping her annoy pesky neighbors...you don't think you'd mind that at all. It sounds great. It sounds wonderful.

[celli-ohs]

and scene!

A seven-part written series taking place at EN High School, featuring Enhypen, with supporting roles from Tomorrow x Together, &Team, BoyNextDoor, Fromis_9, Le Sserafim, NewJeans and Illit. Loosely based off of Enhypen's official series En-Drama.

Author's Note: this is going to be a rollercoaster folks! I wanted to basically make a crack/fluff version of En-Drama. I thought the stereotypes they put the members in were cute and fitting of them, but was like "what if I made them all losers lol" and that's how this series was born! disclaimer, the plots for my works are not the same as En-Drama, this is all just for shits and giggles! btw, everything is connected, so stay tuned for each member! lmk who you're most excited to read!!

Status: ongoing

ATTENTION: reply/comment for taglist

and scene! masterlist

I Can't, I Have Rehearsal

socially awkward!park sunghoon x reader; high school au; crack, comedy, fluff

What happens when you get seated right next to the most handsome boy in your entire grade? Well you thought it'd be a great excuse to get to know him better, but the guy won't even talk to you! After a mishap in the science lab, you come to find out that Park Sunghoon, the cold-hearted prince of EN High, isn't in fact rude, he's just afraid of women.

Show Must Go On

secret softie!park jongseong x reader; high school au; crack, comedy, fluff

When you told the waitress to give your compliments to the chef, you didn't expect the chef to come out and thank you personally, and you really didn't expect the chef to be your classmate Park Jongseong. Realizing how bad this could be, he has you keep it a secret. That shouldn't be too hard for you to do he thinks, but you're full of surprises- and slip ups.

Lights, Curtains, Action!

popular!sim jaeyun x reader; high school au; crack, comedy, fluff

You weren't a very sociable person. Sure you had some friends, but you preferred to stay home on your days off. Your family has other plans though, and you're forced to explore the great outdoors during summer break. On your adventure, you never thought you'd find rowdy Sim Jaeyun, otherwise known as Jake, sitting patiently at the docks waiting for a single fish to bite his line. You also never thought he'd reel in your missing shoe before an actual fish.

All the World's a Stage

younger!kim sunoo x reader; high school au; crack, comedy, fluff

You've known Kim Sunoo since middle school when your friend Jake introduced him to you as his 'little brother'. He was a sweet and funny boy. But over the summer, something changed with Sunoo and suddenly you feel your heart skipping a beat every time he looks your way. You'd think he's finally grown up and matured, but there he goes again, quoting some random romcom and you're reminded he'll never see you the way you do him. Or does he?

Tough Act to Follow

loser!lee heeseung x reader; high school au; crack, comedy, fluff

This had to be a mistake. It couldn't be true, how could you end up being seatmates with the biggest loser in school, Lee Heeseung?! You can feel your social status plummeting with every word he speaks to you. But on a late walk from the convenience store, you witness something that changes your view of Heeseung drastically. And maybe he's right, the Sonic the Hedgehog movie is actually kinda good.

Break a Leg

tease!nishimura riki x reader; high school au; crack, comedy, fluff

Nishimura Riki was the bane of your existence. You can't tell where your hatred for him begins and ends. Every day is a constant battle of teasing between the two of you, and you have had it. One day after an accident, Riki shows his true colors and now his insults start to make your heart race, and it's not because you're angry. Surely you've caught something, right?

No Business Like Show Business

student body president!yang jungwon x reader; high school au; crack, comedy, fluff

When you flunked that math test, you didn't think it was that serious- until your teacher assigned you a tutor: Yang Jungwon, student body president. Honestly, you didn't really know the guy, he seemed like the type to be strict and responsible. Except he isn't, Jungwon is just some guy. You'd argue he's even worse at math than you. His friends thought it'd be funny to elect him as president when the poor boy was out for a pee break. So now you're wondering if you should get a tutor for both of you.