#like i was like okay this is like. a final battle of sorts

[papers-pamphlet]

NEW AMREV OC !!!!!!!!!!

Guys meet Nathan

Okay so to begin with, Nathan Taylor was a 25 year old private in the Continental Army at the time of his death.

He was born to a small family in Massachusetts and lived, what could be said as, a normal life. Anyone who knew him in life would tell you that he was, by all means, an ideal young man. He worked hard as an apprentice at his father's printing press, which gave him some impressive physical strength, he studied to become a lawyer even though he thought he would be better fit with medicine, he even courted a girl and a marriage was arranged between them.

However, one thing that was "wrong", he was never really able to feel any strong emotion, or have any meaningful relationships. He found this out when his mother died from an illness when he was a lad and he felt nothing from it. That realization never troubled him or made him hate himself, he'd simply sort of "put on a mask" of a normal person and it ended up becoming second nature. This can be seen in the way he presents himself, overly and almost eerily polite, and how his smile never reaches his eyes.

When the war began, he didn't exactly have a reason for joining. He just felt strangely drawn to the thought of being in battle. Whether that was the boredom of the insincere life he lived catching up to him, he didn't know. During the war, his politeness got him a lot of people who either really liked him, or found him really weird.

(Upon killing his first redcoat, he simply thought; "oh, I killed someone.")

Anyways, one day in battle, he saw Giles for the first time. The man was massacring his fellow patriots with a smile on his face. He knew immediately that that was the "Nameless Colonel" he would hear rumors about. So, at that moment, why couldn't he move? He knew that being in vicinity of that man, and in the battlefield in general was dangerous --- but it's not like he was frozen out of fear. After a fellow bluecoat saw him standing there like an idiot, he was tackled down so he wouldn't get shot. And in that moment on the ground, he came to a conclusion; he was attracted to that colonel---for the first time, he found someone interesting.

God knows why, but he made the assumption that they were similar, and in a way, they were... but at the same time, they were completely different. He'd thought that Giles was a "better version of himself" that didn't restrain himself, and he admired him for that.

Unlike Joseph, who loved Giles for more than his sadism, Nathan's attraction was solely because of it. And since the two would never interact outside battle (although sometimes he would willingly get himself into close-calls with Giles), Nathan would only just continue to make delusions/assumptions/headcanons about him that would only fuel his interest more.

in @/hamalicious-soup's words --- a "delusional fanboy with a parasocial relationship"

He'd also tell his mates about his interest and they'd all think "whatt= the fuck ??"

Anyways, sometime in 1777, Nathan would willingly volunteer to go on a spy mission at the redcoat camp, if just to get closer to the colonel than actually gathering info. He gets caught near-immediately.

At getting captured, he of course didn't feel frustrated or depressed, he simply accepted that he'd failed, and was going to be hanged.

Well the upside was that Giles was the one that questioned him in his own tent !!!!

And Giles found him "amusing" and that was just about it. He decided to keep him alive for a few more days. He came to know about the rebel's interest in him, and it amused him even more. However he did not return those feelings, he still believed he was incapable of loving anyone, this was of course before Giles met Joseph.

Eventually Giles did kill Nathan. He was a spy, so he should have been publicly hung, but Giles opted for privately strangling him where he was. Nathan didn't complain, he found it intimate.

When Giles put his hands on his throat, their final interaction went something like this:

"I love you."

That caused Giles to pause for a moment. "If that is your way to convince me to stop, it's quite strange."

"No, I am telling the truth."

"Then your affections are misguided." He then began to put in some pressure. "I don't love anyone."

...

"You are --- beautiful." And those were Nathan Taylor's last words.

After that it doesn't take long for Giles to forget about him lol

[yb-cringe]

going into ordem blind was so good btw bc they showed up on that hill for the holy cradle and genuinely my jaw dropped justxfucking losing my mind as everything they had been theorizing about just absolutely shriveled and withered away in seconds because theres nOT EVENXA FUCKING CAVE HERE WHERE THE FUCK ARE THEY

[aria0fgold]

My headcanons for the named trio in The Cursing of Chateau Castle series:

Josephandre is a big bear. It just fits for him I think! He gets he/him pronouns, and as a way to make him a liiiil more relatable for Mira, he'd have two craft types (Rock type being his main one and paper craft for the other). Battle style wise, I think it fits him to be more of a self-sustaining tank. He buffs defense, heals, and puts up shields. For his weapon, he'd use his fists like Isabeau. He'll be the second fastest in the trio.

Lady Irene-Janine-Kanine looks like an elegant noblewoman on the outside but she has vibes similar to Euphrasie! She gets she/her pronouns. Her craft type is Paper. Battle style wise, she's more on the offensive side, a main dps kind of thing. Most of her skills focus on buffing attack and speed, she'd have an item that helps regen her hp a lil bit and her chosen weapon is an umbrella. The tip is a sharp blade so it's used like a spear that has a hidden sword in its handle. Open it, and it becomes a shield! That'd be one of her skills too, although it's only applicable to her. She's the fastest one of the trio.

Pierre-Jacques-Erneste looks like a nobleman and carries himself as such! He gets he/they pronouns. Their craft type is Scissors. Battle style wise, he's more of a debuffer, skills focusing on weakening the enemies, slowing them down, poisoning them. Their weapon is a sword dagger, though he doesn't seem to be able to handle it well, how clumsy! But he Is a nobleman so it makes sense! Oh but... why doesn't he have a title? They're the slowest one of the trio, how strange, he seemed to be faster than Lady Irene-Janine-Karine that one time though.

[ranoutofficssoiwritemyown]

You decide to sleep on the couch after an argument

love and deepspace

characters: Zayne, Sylus (pt2 with Rafayel and Xavier here)

note: they might be a little mischaracterized so bear with me.

Zayne

Usually, arguments with Zayne don’t get this heated. There was no yelling, not on his part at least, but he could be really cold with his words when he wanted to be. Not that you were any better. Some things you said hurt him to no end. So you came up with a decision - to sleep on a couch tonight. To be honest, it was more because to be petty, than not wanting to spend a night beside him. You gathered your pillow and blanket and got comfortable on the couch, which made Zayne sigh out loud when he entered the room.

“What is this?”

You turned your back to him as an answer. Another sigh comes out of his mouth. He’s exhausted, physically and emotionally, and you acting like a brat doesn’t ease anything at all.

“I know you’re mad, dear but is this necessary?”

No answer.

“Alright”

He left the room and before you could convince yourself that you didn’t care he was back with a blanket of his own and took a seat in an armchair. You turn your head towards him in confusion.

“What are you doing?”

“I guess we’re not sleeping in bed tonight”

“I’m not. You can go”

“I believe I didn’t stutter”

You scoffed and turned around again.

“suit yourself”

Minutes pass and sleep doesn’t come to you. Whether it’s because of an uncomfortable couch or an absence of his arms around you is hard to say, but after turning around thousands of times and still not being able to sleep is frustrating.

Finally, Zayne had enough of watching your struggle.

“How about we go to bed?”

“No” came your response after a second of hesitation. With a small amused smile on his face, he hovered over the couch.

“What do you say… I take you to bed and you can curse me out for it tomorrow?”

You shifted a little but didn’t answer, which made his smile widen. He gathered you in his arms and your lack of objection was all he needed to take you to your room and tucking you in bed. Even though you seemed to warm up he didn’t know how far he could push you, so kneeling beside the bed to be on your eye level he started:

“If you still need space I can-”

“Stay”

He smiled at you tucking your hair behind your ear.

“Okay”

He got up and kissed your forehead before slipping in beside you and pulling you closer.

"I'm sorry..." you mutter

"Shh, we'll talk about it tomorrow... but I'm sorry too"

You smile a little. You two will sort this out tomorrow.

Sylus

What Sylus says, goes around. His word is the law. This is what he’s used to. That's how it's always been.

Then you came into his life and even though he’s still in charge of how things go in the N109 zone, you just need to say the word and everything will be how you like it. No questions, no hesitation. He would give you the world if you so much as whispered the need. Whatever you want, whatever you need, he will make it happen.

Unless, when it comes to your safety. Now don’t get me wrong. Sylus knows you can defend yourself and then some. But when it comes to the N109 zone, there are things Sylus knows better than you. Additionally, The fact that you can be reckless in your battles does nothing to help ease his worries.

That was the reason for the heated argument tonight. Sylus with his harsh words and snarky remarks always finds a way to infuriate you. So you two go on and on for half an hour now and none of you seems to back down. You storm off to your room and take your things to get comfortable on the couch. However, on your way out Sylus blocks your way. He raises an eyebrow at the blanket and pillow in your arms.

“Now, what exactly do you think you are doing, sweetie?”

“move”

“I asked you a question”

“I’m not sleeping beside you- Sylus” you exclaim as he hoists you over his shoulder. you punch and scratch his back but to no avail.

“Careful with your claws, kitten”

He drops you on the bed climbing over you.

“Now listen, this is what will happen. You will stop acting like a wild kitten and sleep beside me. I am sorry for hurting you but we will discuss it tomorrow, when we are both a lot calmer. Understood?”

You don’t want to give in so easily. You also don’t want to sleep without him tonight. So you nod avoiding eye contact. He, however, doesn’t accept it and raises your chin with his finger to make you look at him.

“Use your words, sweetie”

“Yes”

“Splendid” He removed himself from you so you could get under the blanket. He laid beside you and pulled you closer so your head was resting on his chest.

"Sy... I'm sorry too"

"So I'm Sy now?"

This man.

"Nevermind, you're still a prick"

You try to remove his arm but he holds you tighter as he laughs.

"Alright, alright. I'm sorry, sweetie"

You felt him kiss the crown of your head as he caressed your shoulder with his thumb. you return to your previous position and listening to his heartbeat, sleep lured you in soon enough.

[somnoir]

Damian's future husband

Got inspired by this specific line in a Tumblr thread and my brain went to work

Phantom was a strange hero—a vigilante that often worked with Justice League Dark. Constantine was always so antsy around the man, while Phantom himself often muttered about taxes and blasted fragments whenever said trech coat man was in the vicinity.

The Bats were, of course, initially apprehensive of the death defying being that could rip a man skeleton out of their body, manipulate space itself to rip open portals to different dimensions, and vanish better than they did. They were wary, mildly hostile after realising that Phantom had now issue killing.

But then time passed and Phantom was proven to not be a serial killer but only used killing as a last resort. Though Batman wasn't too pleased, he was—begrudgingly—tolerant of that. Because, yes, Phantom was a nice guy, a very likeable person in general. He made sure that the environmental damage during battles were kept to a minimum, he chose civilians over the enemy whenever it came to hostage situations, he was tactile and kind, and he cared so much for the innocent that he was willing to lose his innocence to keep theirs.

Of course Batman was fond of the young man, especially when he found out that Jason of all people had some sort of crush on him. A very big and almost pathetic one that he and Alfred would watch while sipping tea.

Seriously, Jason was his son! Has he not learned anything from his Brucie persona? The poor thing was like a Victorian maiden and would be scandalised at the mere thought of showing an ankle.

It was embarrassing how he'd practically start blue screening the moment Phantom was in the vicinity. As a father, Bruce was gracious enough not to bully his poor son whenever it came to Phantom. His siblings, on the other hand, held no such qualms and mercilessly dug into Jason.

In all honesty, he pitied Jason after hearing that Phantom assumed that Jason just didn't like him.

He really had to talk to him.

"You fucking hypocrite."

And that was a failure because Bruce forgot that he was just as constipated as his son.

"I'm not taking advice from the man who couldn't even try to be softer in his secret crush!"

With that, Jason slammed the door and left.

Okay... Plan B?

But what the hell was plan B?

Right.

Dick Grayson.

Bruce: About your brother...

Bird child #1: OH MY GOD

Bird child #1: THANK FUCK YOU FINALLY MENTIONED IT

Bruce: it's become an issue

Bruce: Alfred has commented that it's pathetic now.

Bird child #1: Wait wait

Bird child #1: I'll add you to the group chat!

And this Bruce Wayne found himself in a GC named 'Phantom of the Watchtower'. Along with all the complaints expressed by both family and friends when it came to Jason's bullshit.

Ah well... At least he wasn't alone in the suffering.

(Jason did not need to know that there was a video of him grappling through Gotham, Phantom passing by and waving at him, and Jason proceeding to hit a wall mid flight.)

Dick knows that his little wing has had trouble in relationships for a long time. His resurrection changed him, changed how he perceived his relationships. Dick didn't have the heart to be mad about it.

Phantom's arrival was a breath of fresh air for them.

But he suspects that Jason's attraction began with the fact that Phantom had died young as well. Fourteen from what was said. He had died much younger than Jason and had came back a hero, willing to protect the innocent and do what was best for those around him. Sometimes Dick suspects that Jason not only wanted to be with Phantom, but also to be similar to him.

Now he's watching Jason fumble with his words again, immediately going quiet once he realized that nothing coherent was coming out of his mouth. The helmet most likely hid how red his face was.

"Are you alright?" Phantom asked, frowning up at Jason. "You don't feel too good. Is the corrupted ecto acting up again? Oh, I knew I should have sped up the process of removing it but then it'd be very painful if I did it at once. And Frostbite recommended that we went slowly so we could monitor the side effect... And, and—"

"I'm okay." Red Hood immediately assured, his hand practically flying to Phantom's cheek then he shoved it down before he could even touch Phantom. "It's been a long day."

"Is the Joker out again?" Phantom's frown deepened.

Another thing Dick has learned about the dead and the undead! The fact that their murderer was still active unsettled then greatly and affected their entire mentality and behaviour.

"No. No. He hasn't tried escaping."

Phantom hummed, "I see. So what's bothering you."

"It's nothing." Jason grunted, sounding a little too much like Bruce for Dick's liking.

Okay, nope, he wasn't going to let this continue if his baby brother was going to continue making Phantom assumed he didn't like him. Nightwing to the rescue!

"Phantom! Hi!" Nightwing quite literally dropped into the alley, running his fingers through his hair and smoothly directing Jason away from whatever catastrophic misunderstanding he was walking into.

"Hello Nightwing! It's nice to see you again? How's Kori? Oooh! I wanted to invite her to a space date again—" He rambled on and on, eyes practically starry. Wait, nevermind. His eyes really were starry.

(Meanwhile, Jason was cursing his older brother for taking the attention from but also very thankful that Phantom didn't have to witness his stupidity again.)

Tim had noticed that the Joker hasn't attempted to break out in a long... Long time.

It's not a bad thing, no. It was great, in all honesty. But of course, Tim was paranoid, almost batshir crazy (pun intended, in the words of his damn boyfriends). The surveillance feed on Arkham was updated a long time ago, watching it very closely until static overtook the screen.

"Replacement," Tim startled, blinking before he saw Jason peering at him with a questioning look. Practically interrogating him on the spot. "The hell is that?"

"I don't know." Tim clicked his tongue, "This hasn't happened after Babs and I updated those damn cameras. Fuck, give me a second..."

"Did the Joker get out?" Jason practically growled.

"No, no. I'm sure he didn't. He would have been causing trouble by now." Tim reassured, clicking his tongue again before the feed went back to normal. Joker's cell seemed perfectly fine, with the Joker fast asleep on his little cot. "See, just some static. Maybe Phantom passed by."

The mere mention of Phantom has Jason blue screening, instincts kicking in as his older brother shoved his helmet over his head again. Then the idiot gets on his bike and speeds out of the cave.

Coward.

Tim whipped his head around, quickly surveying the area.

The static wasn't random. Phantom always had to be in front of the camera to directly affect the feed. So thank fuck when he made friends with Phantom's teammate—Pharaoh—and figured out how to fix any distorted imagery.

He sees Phantom standing over the Joker's unconscious body, plunging his hand into the maniac's chest and pulled out a glowing green orb. A core, from what he remembered. Holy shit, was the Joker a ghost too?

But he saw how Phantom seemed to put restraints around it, literal chains before shoving it back inside.

Slowly, Phantom turned to the camera, his entire figure still distorted, but he could see that fanged grin that his brother seemed to swoon over.

(The Joker was still alive, very much, but no one could understand how he was stuck in an almost permanent coma. Tim wasn't going to give Jason even more reason to start giggling over Phantom, unless he wanted to ruin the entire Dead on Main operation.)

Damian did not quite understand the insanity that was multiple individuals (including those that were not of their brood) attempting to matchmake Todd with Phantom. He didn't understand what was so great about Phantom, in all honesty.

He was heroic, powerful, and quite intelligent. Many people held similar traits. Perhaps it was the fact that he was a deathly being that attracted Todd in the first place.

"Hello, Robin!" Phantom greeted one day, eyes shimmering like the stars in his cape. "Superboy said you had something to tell me?"

Damian shifted slightly, "Yes. Are you aware of the Lazarus Pits?"

"Ah... Yes, of course. My court and I have been trying to destroy all of them. The Lazarus is corrupted ectoplasm that has been mixed with filth of all kinds." Phantom hummed.

"Filth of all kinds... Disgusting." Damian frowned, nose scrunching up at the memory that he's bathed in those pits before. "But I digress. I would like to assist in the destruction of the pits. Father and the rest of the family has fretted over my grandfather's pits for many years and we have barely grazed the surface on what the Lazarus truly was."

"I see! I was planning on asking Batman to help out on that. But since you've already asked, would you like to come to the Realms? I'm sure you can interrogate some of the ghosts your grandfather has wronged." Phantom grinned, already offering Damian a hand. He was floating, while Damian stood in the roof and stared at the hand.

It reminded him of the kryptonians. But Phantom's hand was cold and he didn't yank Damian the same way Jon often did.

No, Phantom took Damian's hand and then proceeded to hook an arm around Damian's waist, pulling him of the roof and into the air. And then they were flying into a glowing green portal that reminded Damian of the pits.

The moment they were in the infinite realms, Damian felt the overwhelming pressure of the dead. He swallowed the bile that rose from his throat as Phantom set him down on solid ground. The entire place felt eerie and strange, of course it was. This was the afterlife.

"Right, I forgot." Phantom cursed, "You're not as liminal as my family. Give me a second, baby bat." He murmured, his hand glowing green before it's gently pushed into Damian's chest. A sudden wave of warmth overtook his entire body and Damian stared at the ghost.

"I'm giving you a bit of Ecto to reduce any discomfort here in the realms. It'll flush itself out in 24 hours so don't worry about becoming overly liminal." Phantom smiled softly, before he offered his hand to Damian again. "Let's go? I have to stop by my keep to check the records of Al Ghuls victims."

"Of course."

And instead of being carried like a cat, Phantom picked him up bridal style and flew past what seemed to be floating islands and towards a large red and purple castle.

Is this was Todd feels? Damian asked himself, oddly enjoying this experience.

The moment they landed—

"Your majesty!" A floating eyeball yelled, rushing towards them. "You've brought an outsider—"

"Away with you." Phantom snapped, a crown and cape of stars suddenly appearing on him. "This is Robin. Ra's Al Ghul's grandchild."

"The Demon's head..."

"Yes, now shoo." Phantom snapped, before leading Damian away from the eyeball. "I'm sorry for my Observants. They're a conservative bunch."

"You are a king?"

"Mhm... Though I don't like to advertise it. The last king was a tyrant and I defeated him a little while after my death. I never intended to be king, in all honesty. But here I am." He gestured to the crown of fire and ice and the cape of stars. His grin was strained and quite troubled but he didn't mind leading Damian towards a large room filled with bigger files.

"Now, would you like to search yourself or do you want me to have someone else do it?"

Damian grimaced at the sight. "I'd prefer for someone else to suffer."

And that's how Damian found himself touring the realms, with Phantom happily bringing Damian to the arena where a ghost named Skulker awaited them. The man was a hunter, respectful towards Phantom yet troublesome as he challenged him. Phantom looked utterly annoyed, before he turned to Damian with sparkling eyes.

"What about you, Robin?"

And then Damian was fighting everyone and everything in the realms at the behest and amusement of Phantom. The ghost king provided him with different weapons each time an enemy switched.

It's only when they returned to the land of the living that he's informed that any weapon he's used is now his.

And he has a cat with him! The ghost of a small yet ferocious kitten that had his under Phantom's cape whilst Damian and other ghosts fought to glorious battle. Phantom kindly offered her to him, naming her Astra with the star shaped pupils in her eyes.

Damian is quite sure he has fallen in love.

Damian returns to the manor, utterly awestruck and infatuated. Thankfully (unfortunately), Todd is in attendance when Phantom carries him out of the portal, still held in a bridal carry with Damian actively clinging to Phantom like he had hung the stars (maybe he did).

"Sorry if we worried you! Robin wanted to help with our Lazarus problems since it's also your problem too." Phantom quickly explains once he saw Batman's troubled expression. "Don't worry about your gifts. I'll figure out a way to make you a dimensional bag."

Damian stared, "May I visit the realms again? If you would be amendable to it."

"Of course! You're my favorite, so why wouldn't I?"

Hah! Hear that? Take that, Todd!

Phantom vanishes into his portal seconds later, leaving Damian with the most beautiful and intricated sword in his hands. Blinking quietly, he whirled around and pointed the sword at Jason, who instinctively went into a battle stance.

"You may be my brother, Todd, but if you have not married Phantom once I am of age, I shall fight for his hand in marriage himself."

(Jason knows very well that Damian isn't joking and proceeds to practically plan the most novel-esque confession to date. Jane Austen might just be proud.)

Masterpost

[ghostsy]

Stay

YANDERE x READER

WARNINGS: yandere, implied imprisonment, a lil angsty

read at your own discretion.

❈ ◦•≫────≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫────≪•◦ ❈

“Don’t leave me.”

The arm wrapped around her middle tightened, squeezing the remaining air from her lungs. But she stifled her discomfort; he would only ever reprimand the feeling. 

“I won’t.”

It had been like this for a while now; where he crawled into bed at night, oftentimes after he made sure to thoroughly bed her, and wrapped himself around her like a child–an overgrown child with strength that could snap her in half if he so chose. But a child nonetheless.

The whining was new, though. 

“I’m serious,” He rasped, breath tickling against her hair, “Don’t you ever leave me.” 

As if it were her choice. She was silent for a moment; what response could she give that would assuage his paranoia, or more pertinently, spare her the consequence of his rage? 

“I’d die,” He continued, lips brushing her ear, “I’d kill everyone, and then I’d die.”

“You won’t die,” She sighed out the words, trying and failing to stamp down her building annoyance, but self-preservation won out in the battle against her own emotions, “I’m here, so you won’t die.”

She felt his heartbeat speed where his chest pressed against her, “No,” He curled deeper into her if it were even possible, face pressed to the crook of her neck, “But you’d like me to, wouldn’t you?”

Before she could respond, she felt wetness on her skin. Was he crying? “Bet you dream about it,” She’d never seen him cry before, never seen a chink in the armor, “Leaving me here to rot.” She didn’t like the uncomfortable burn in her chest as she listened to the shuddering breaths behind her. It had to be pity. Of course, it was pity.

“That’s okay, you can dream,” The rasp of his voice made even deeper with the cracks in his words, “You can dream all you want, so long as you’re here with me when you wake,” Before she could even consider her actions, she was turning in his arms. Or struggling to, only succeeding as he lessened his iron grip when he was sure she wasn’t trying to leave. 

His eyes were wide when she was face to face with him, no doubt surprised she’d chosen to be closer to him of her own free will. He was handsome, with a devastating kind of beauty to the lines of his face. She always thought it cruel, a handsome monster she was chained to forever. 

“I don’t,” She breathed, lips uncomfortably close to his own, “Want you to die, I mean. I don’t want it.” She wasn’t sure if she was lying, but the words had the opposite effect she’d intended.

His brows furrowed in the way they usually did before red hot anger took control, but the night was full of surprises, it seemed, because this heat was only directed at himself.

“You should,” He spat, the arm at her waist squeezing so harshly she couldn’t help but wince. He weakened his grip immediately upon notice, "You should hate me," And she saw what she could only call self-disgust swimming in his eyes.

“Yes, I should,” The words spilled out before she could stop them, but this moment between them felt it was owed honesty, promised safety. 

“I’d still love you if you did,” It was a breathless confession, and he pressed his forehead against her own, eyes closed, “No matter what, I would still love you,” He made it sound like an apology, like he knew his love was a torture he’d inflicted on her without reprieve. 

“That’s stupid.” She sighed out the words, but her hand came to rest at his cheek, nearly admiring. Admiring the unbelievability of his vulnerability. 

“Yeah,” He huffed out a low laugh between the unsteady breaths, and turned to press a kiss to her palm, “It is kind of stupid.”

There was a sort of finality to the words. Because in the end, his cruelty masked as love, stupid as it was, was not something either of them could escape. It was a painful realization that he hadn’t just trapped her in a cage, but locked her into his own.

Her fingers traced patterns along his jaw, and their eyes met in the low light of the early morning hours. Maybe when the sun rose he’d return to the monster she knew, and she would only have this moment as a memory with a man she thinks she could have loved. She’d take a moment.

Slowly she inched forward, and his breath hitched, fingers flexing where they rested against her skin. Before she could connect them she froze, considering, hesitating, rethinking. But he took the opportunity, and pressed forward, lips uncharacteristically soft against her own, before retreating nearly as quickly. A stolen kiss. Unbearably cruel in its deceptive innocence. 

“Just tell me,” He whispered it like a secret, “Tell me you’ll stay with me.”

“I will.”

❈ ◦•≫────≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫────≪•◦ ❈

Couldn't pick just one character, but had a few in mind:

BNHA: Bakugou, Shinso, Todoroki Shoto

JJK: Yuta, Megumi

Blue Lock: Nagi, Rin

Haikyuu: Oikawa, Bokuto, Kuroo

BSD: Dazai, Chuuya

[muletia]

These obsessed Orian and Optimus fics have got me thinking about what if Megatron was just as obsessed with reader as Optimus, and they have a tug of war sort of battle between them where one side snatches you for their leader back and forth.

It has gotten to the point where you couldn’t even sleep in your own home anymore without some decepticon destroying your ceiling in order to take you away to their leader like a toy.

Megatron would definitely see reader as a tool to further his goals as well as leverage to use against Optimus. He laughed out loud when he heard about his nemesis having feelings for a puny human. If Megatron could punch his past self for daring to think so lowly of you, he would do it without a second thought. He is so much worse than Optimus because he doesn’t allow you to leave him sight even when you plead that you have to go to work.

Work? What work? You don’t need to work anymore now that you’re his queen. Don’t be ridiculous.

Oh, but Optimus… He. Is. Pissed. He would never rest until you were back in his servo safe and sound. He would quite literally crash out as soon as he found out Megatron took his beloved.

I love having two obsessed bots fight over me <3

YOU ARE SO BIG BRAINED OMG, these ideas are so tasty

okay, this scenario could unfold in several ways, but i see a huge comedic potential here. at first, of course, there's nothing funny about it at all, because being kidnapped by the leader of the decepticons himself to be used as a bargaining chip is far from humorous. but! let's say that despite the hopelessness of your situation, you dare to resist, to fight back, because you know that megatron doesn’t have the guts to hurt you. he knows you’re too important to optimus, and killing you gains him nothing. the problem is that by being defiant, you end up sealing your fate because megatron starts to take an interest in you. at first, he’s just fascinated by you, maybe even slightly amused. but this unimportant infatuation quickly turns into something more, something that terrifies megatron himself. it’s stronger than him, more powerful, more aggressive, and more relentless. suddenly, you’re no longer a bargaining chip—you’ve been promoted to a much worse position. you’ve become his partner, his second-in-command, his queen. someone who suddenly holds immense significance for him. and that is absolutely terrifying.

megatron doesn’t get to enjoy your company for long, though, because you’re quickly rescued by the autobots. optimus is, of course, ecstatic that the mission was a success and that you’re finally safe, but for a few days, you’ll have to kiss your social life and work goodbye, as optimus will insist on you being under constant supervision at the base. maybe during this time, the two of you grow closer despite the circumstances of your house arrest? and despite the paranoia wreaking havoc in optimus's processor, part of him is content with having you constantly in sight and that your relationship has warmed even more.

the same can’t be said for megatron, who is, to put it mildly, tweaking out. is he just supposed to let you go after he’s had a taste of you? after he’s grown to enjoy your company and having you always within reach? ha! he’s not letting go that easily. a few days after you return to your normal life, a random vehicon gets the order to bring you back to nemesis, straight into his master’s hands. megatron is satisfied—you, not so much—and optimus is losing his mind. this time, however, the rescue mission doesn’t go as smoothly. the leader of the decepticons personally keeps an eye on you, and you’re constantly watched by soundwave. but let’s say the autobots manage to rescue you again... until you’re kidnapped once more.

and here’s where the comedic aspect kicks in. at some point, your fear for your life shifts to irritation. by the tenth time you land in the servos of the great leader of the decepticons, whose most sinister plans apparently involve just keeping you here against your will and occasionally you patting him on the helm, it’s honestly just exhausting. the most troublesome part is the lack of autonomy—otherwise, you’re pretty much chilling as long as you don’t tease or provoke him. although, even that gets boring after a while. you just want to live a normal life... you never asked to be sandwiched between the boobs of two leaders who do nothing but bark at each other...

[bet-on-me-13]

The First Supervillain

So! A Typical "Early Start" AU where the events of The Show happen early in the Timeline. Like, in the 70's or 80's.

Danny never quite managed to fix his Public Perception, and even years into his career people still saw him as the Villain.

Coincidentally Valerie was seen as a Hero because of how often they were seen fighting. Even after they revealed their Identities and got together, they still had the occasional Battle. It was their love language.

His role as the Villain was Cemented when Pariah launched his Second Invasion of Earth after some dumbass accidentally freed him, and Danny took the Blame for it. Instead of being seen as the Hero who battled Pariah and stopped the Invasion, he was seen as the Tyrant to launched the Invasion in the first place, with Red Huntess being the one to defeat him in one final Ultimate Battle.

And honestly? He was fine with that. Now that he was the King of the Ghost Zone, he had the Authority to Regulate the Portal so villains stopped getting through. And that meant that he wasn't needed to stop random Ghost Attacks anymore. He could finally focus on College and his own Life, instead of sacrificing everything to act as the Protector of the Human Realm.

Val continued to be a Hero for a few more years, eventually retiring when it became Clear that the new generation of Heroes could pick up the Slack.

He went to College, got a Job as an Aerospace Engineer, and eventually proposed to Valerie.

About 20 years since his initial Accident, and he was doing great! He had moved into a humble home on the edge of town with his loving wife Val, his beautiful daughter Ellie, and his cute dog Cujo.

Yeah, life was good.

Until the day Danny accidently caused a Mass Crisis.

...

Superman was having some extreme trouble in dealing with his current Opponent. He had just been flying around the City, patrolling as Usual, when all of a sudden he had been attacked by a Flying Mech Suit.

At first he had assumed that Lex was giving it another Go, but he quickly realized that was not the case when the Armor seemed to Phase though solid matter in the middle of the battle. Lex had never made Tech advanced enough to do that on the fly.

This opponent was tough too. Strong enough and Durable enough to go blow for blow with him, and seemingly able to pull Advanced Weaponry from out of nowhere whenever he wanted. As tough as it was to admit, Superman as losing the Battle.

Then, without warning, the battle stopped. His opponent was staring at the space just behind him, with a look of pure dread. He turned around, and his heart stopped.

Floating behind him, staring right past him and directly at the Mech Suit, was the First Villain Phantom.

He looked much the same as when he had last been seen, although he was definitely Older. He had snow white hair, and glowing green eyes that seemed to stare right past him and into his very soul. He was wearing what seemed to be a costume of sorts, with an all black suit, white gloves, and white boots. Over his Shoulders sat a Cloak made of Stars, and above his head sat a Crown made of an Icy Blue Fire.

The Mech tried for a greeting, "Er- Hello t-Lord Phantom. How do you d-"

"Skulker."

"Y-yes?"

"What are you doing here? I thought I gave you explicit orders to stay in the Ghost Zone until further notice. You disobeyed me."

"Okay look. I got excited, that's my fault. It's just, I got anxious waiting. Can you really blame me? I've been waiting 20 years to take another Crack at the Human World, what's it matter if I left a few weeks Early?"

"I told you. You were supposed to wait exactly 20 Years, and you left Early. This calls for punishment."

"No wait!"

"Let's see how you feel after a few days as Soup."

The Villain pulled out a Thermos, and in a flash of green light, Skulker was gone, and the King was capping the Thermos. He then turned to Superman.

"I apologize for him, he decided to leave ahead of schedule." The King addressed him. "Now, Kryptonian. Rest and tend to your wounds, you will need to be in your best health if you want to continue saving the lives of those people below us."

With a dramatic flare, the King reached up and Tore a hole in Space. Through the Hole, Superman could only see an infinite Green Void, with the sound of screams cheering being heard through the rift.

The King departed through the Tear in Spacetime, and it closed behind him.

Superman tried to collect himself, and activated his League Emergency Comms.

"Attention All Founding Members, and Justice League Dark Members. This is Superman calling for an immediate Emergency Meeting."

He took a deep breath.

"Phantom is Back."

[after-witch]

Horrorfest: I Know What You Did Last Halloween [Yandere Hawks x Reader]

Title: I Know What You Did Last Halloween [Yandere Hawks x Reader]

Synopsis: You watch a movie with your captor.

For Horrorfest request:

watching a horror movie with hawks/Keigo and him getting bored and trying to make very much unwanted advances towards reader and reader is more scared/anxious of that than the movie.

Word count: 800ish

notes: yandere, kidnapped reader, sexual assault

The scantily clad college student on the TV screen has just watched one of her friends get butchered, and now she’s running down a seemingly endless corridor, cold sweat artfully placed on her forehead by a special effects team, hoping to escape the killer before her own guts get speared on his knife. She picks a door at random, shuts it as quietly as she can, then crouches down beside it to await her fate.

You are doing nothing so exciting.

You are simply sitting in a living room, underneath a warm blanket, a bowl of popcorn resting in between you and the pro-hero that kidnapped you.

Reflexively, now and then, your hand grabs a fistful of popcorn and shoves it into your mouth without a hint of daintiness.

Not because you’re particularly hungry, or because the movie is so engrossing you can’t be bothered to eat popcorn like a human being instead of a horse, but because the more you stuff your face, the more you can avoid talking to Hawks. Or Keigo, as he says to call him, which you sometimes do in order to avoid his bad moods.

He’s not in a bad mood now.

No–in fact–

The scantily clad college student turned sole survivor of a midnight massacre holds her manicured hand over her mouth to silence her breathing, limbs shaking as she hears the killer’s knife dragging against the hallway. “Come out, come out”--

Keigo is in a good mood. A pleasant mood. A mood that has him snuggling closer to you on the couch, hand reaching for the popcorn or–no, not for the popcorn. Hand reaching across the bowl and for your fingers, which you yank away, shoving them inside the bowl and grabbing another fistful of buttery pieces.

It’s a pathetic tactic. But one that works. Sort of. Maybe. For another minute. Because you hear Keigo sigh, feel him shift closer on the sofa, and then–

“Babe,” he says, drawing out the word. “I thought we talked about this.”

“We” didn’t talk about it, you think. He talked about it. Told you to stop being so skittish, to start acting like a proper partner, to let him touch you and kiss you without making him feel like an asshole.

But you kidnapped me, is what you should’ve said.

“Okay,” is what you did say. And he’d grinned and told you to pick out your favorite movie and you put on a slasher you used to watch all the time in college. It made you feel scared, it made you feel giddy, it was like a creepy comfort movie.

The killer stops at just the right door and the final girl, the only one out of her friends not to end up on the wrong side of a blade, looks like she’s going to be down for the count. She’ll get grabbed and gutted like the rest of them. Only when the killer opens the door, a note of triumph in his voice–only to find himself getting smacked in the face with a desperately swung desk chair. 

Keigo’s hand is not over the popcorn bowl now. Now, it is sliding underneath the blanket, where you can’t easily bat it away. Not without making him annoyed, not without the excuse of popcorn. 

There are no excuses to make when his hand finds your thigh, gives it a squeeze. It should feel warm underneath the blanket, but it’s like an icy chill descends over your skin. Goosebumps that he coos over, takes for sensitivity and not horror, spread across your legs. 

On screen, the final girl is battling for her life. She’s winning. She will win. You know this, have seen it a thousand times. 

In the living room, with Keigo’s hands creeping up your thigh and his body getting closer, setting the popcorn to the side so it doesn’t spill, you’re wishing you could do the same. 

But she–she is allowed to fight and scream and claw and give the killer a taste of his own medicine before emerging triumphant and alone. She has that freedom, despite her dead friends, despite the trauma she would no doubt endure if the film extended past the credits.

You?

You’re sitting on the couch, no popcorn between you now, as Keigo begins to press kisses to the side of your neck. Your jaw. Your mouth. 

You–

You’re stuck in your horror movie, and the killer’s call is most definitely coming from inside the house. 

[brunchable]

You told Bucky that, 'He's right' 《Drabble》

Words: ≈600

Pairings: Husband!Bucky Barnes x f!reader.

A/N: omg i actually wrote a short story. Dunno if you'd call it a drabble if its >100words but eh. Divider is mine :)

Bucky stared down at his phone, his brow furrowed in confusion. He sat on the edge of the bed, glancing at the door you had just walked through after the argument. Everything about the situation felt... wrong.

"Did I hear that right?" he muttered to himself, his voice tinged with disbelief.

You had said the words no married man expects to hear, especially after an argument: "You're right."

A cold sweat broke out on Bucky's forehead. He picked up his phone and hurriedly typed a message to Sam, his thumbs flying over the keys like it was a mission.

Bucky: Hey, I just had an argument with Y/N, and she just told me I was right. What do I do next?

Sam's response came almost immediately, as if he'd been waiting for the exact moment Bucky's world flipped upside down.

Sam: Oh no. What did you do?

Bucky: That's the thing! I didn’t do anything!

Sam: Doubt it. Check again. You definitely did something.

Bucky got up and peeked out the bedroom door. You were calmly sitting on the couch, scrolling through your phone as if nothing monumental had just occurred. No fuming. No angry glares. You even had a tiny smile on your face. That, more than anything, terrified Bucky.

He quickly shut the door and leaned against it, typing with even more urgency.

Bucky: I swear! She just said, “You’re right.”

Sam: She said WHAT?

Bucky: “You’re right,” Sam. I’m not messing with you. What do I do? Is this a trap?

A long pause followed. Sam was probably trying to process what Bucky was saying, and that made Bucky even more nervous. His phone buzzed with another message.

Sam: Listen, man, if she said you're right, there's no going back. You’re in uncharted territory now. Just apologize.

Bucky: But she said I’m right!

Sam: And you’re still wrong. Did your Dad not tell you that women are always right?!

Bucky's mind raced. What if this was some sort of test? What if this was a new form of argument he had never encountered before?

Bucky: Okay, but what do I apologize for?

Sam: For breathing. For existing. Pick one, man. Just go with it.

Bucky sighed, rubbing his temples. None of this made sense. He felt like a soldier in a war zone, except the enemy was invisible, and the battle lines were non-existent. He looked at his phone one last time, hoping for some final piece of wisdom from Sam.

Sam: If she said you're right, just apologize and bring her chocolate. And flowers. Actually, maybe throw in a puppy just to be safe.

Bucky: A puppy? Where am I supposed to get a puppy at this hour?

Sam: Figure it out. Good luck, man. It was nice knowing you.

Bucky groaned, shoving the phone in his pocket. He paced for a few minutes, trying to figure out the best approach. Finally, with a deep breath, he walked into the living room, feeling like he was marching to his doom.

You looked up at him with a raised brow. "Something on your mind?"

Bucky cleared his throat, feeling a bead of sweat slide down his back. "Listen, doll, about earlier... I just wanted to say I’m... sorry."

Your brow furrowed slightly. "For what?"

"For... being right?"

Your lips twitched, and you quickly covered your mouth with your hand, hiding a smile. "Oh, really?"

Bucky shifted nervously. "Yeah, and for... everything else. Just... all of it."

You finally burst into laughter, doubling over as you clutched your stomach. "Oh, Bucky, you’re ridiculous."

Bucky blinked, completely thrown off. "Wait, what? So I’m not in trouble?"

You shook her head, wiping away tears of laughter. "No, you goof, why would you be? I just didn’t feel like arguing anymore. I knew you'd spiral the moment I said you were right."

Bucky blinked. “So, you were messing with me.”

You grinned mischievously, shrugging a shoulder. "Just a little. But I like the apology."

Bucky shook his head with a grin. “I swear, you’re going to be the death of me, doll.”

As you laughed, Bucky’s phone buzzed again. He glanced at the screen to see another message from Sam.

Sam: You still alive?

Bucky: Barely. You owe me a puppy.

[awkward-walking-potato]

Hey there! I love the grumpy x sunshine trope for Logan. What if someone has been bothering reader or something happened, and because of it, she’s just not acting like herself and Logan starts picking up on it. He tries to let it go, but it sort of just gets worse and worse, and he becomes really worried for her. So he finally confronts her about, and she has a total breakdown about it- he knows that she’s been upset but not to this extent. So her comforts her and she finally opens up about what’s been going on. That’s kind of all I have, so I’ll leave the rest up to you. I love how you write for Logan, thank you for all the time and dedication you put in. 🫶🏻

When the Sunshine Fades

The Xavier Institute had been bustling with the usual mix of chaos and camaraderie. Students running through the halls, the occasional burst of mutant powers misfiring, and, of course, the ever-present banter between teammates. But through it all, one constant had always been your presence—your sunny disposition that seemed to brighten even the darkest corners of the mansion.

You were the kind of person who could find the silver lining in any situation, always quick with a smile or a word of encouragement. It was one of the things Logan admired most about you. The way you could light up a room with your laughter, the way you saw the good in everyone, even in him—a man who had spent so much of his life battling his inner demons.

But lately, something had changed. The light in your eyes had dimmed, and Logan couldn’t help but notice.

At first, he’d told himself to let it go. Everyone had their off days. Maybe you were just tired, or maybe something minor was weighing on your mind. He wasn’t one to pry, especially since you’d always been so good at bouncing back. But as the days turned into a week, and your usual cheerfulness continued to fade, Logan found himself growing more and more concerned.

You’d stopped laughing as much, your smiles were forced, and there was a heaviness in your eyes that hadn’t been there before. You weren’t spending as much time with the team, opting instead to retreat to your room or find some quiet corner of the mansion where you could be alone. You still tried to keep up appearances, but it was clear that something was wrong.

Logan wasn’t the only one who noticed. A few of the other X-Men had asked him if you were okay, assuming that he would know since the two of you were so close. But Logan didn’t have an answer for them. He didn’t have an answer for himself, either, and that gnawed at him more than he’d like to admit.

Finally, after nearly two weeks of watching you withdraw more and more, Logan couldn’t take it anymore. He’d always been protective of you, but this went beyond that. He was worried—genuinely worried—and he couldn’t stand by and watch you suffer in silence any longer.

It was late in the evening when he found you in the mansion’s library, curled up on a chair with a book you hadn’t even bothered to open. Your eyes were distant, and you looked so small, so fragile, that it tugged at something deep inside him. Logan took a deep breath, steeling himself as he approached you.

“Hey,” he said, keeping his voice as gentle as he could manage.

You looked up, startled by his sudden presence, and tried to muster a smile. But it didn’t reach your eyes. “Hey, Logan.”

He pulled up a chair and sat down across from you, his eyes never leaving your face. “You wanna tell me what’s goin’ on?”

Your smile faltered, and you looked away, focusing on the pattern of the carpet beneath your feet. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t play dumb, darlin’,” Logan said, his tone a bit firmer now. “You’ve been actin’ different. Withdrawn. And I know somethin’ ain’t right. You’ve barely been yourself for weeks now.”

You swallowed hard, still avoiding his gaze. “I’m fine, Logan. Really. Just... been a little tired, I guess.”

Logan’s jaw tightened. He hated that you were trying to brush this off, trying to pretend like everything was okay when it so clearly wasn’t. “You ain’t fine. I know you too well for that. Talk to me.”

You bit your lip, your eyes glistening with unshed tears. Logan felt his heart clench at the sight. He hadn’t meant to push you this hard, but he couldn’t back off now, not when you were clearly on the verge of breaking.

“Please, sweetheart,” he said, his voice softening again. “Just talk to me.”

That did it. The dam you’d been trying so hard to hold back finally broke, and a choked sob escaped your lips. You covered your face with your hands as the tears began to fall, your shoulders shaking with the force of your emotions.

Logan was out of his chair in an instant, crossing the small space between you in two strides. He knelt down in front of you, his large hands gently pulling yours away from your face. The sight of your tear-streaked cheeks and trembling lips made his chest tighten with a mixture of anger and helplessness.

“Hey, hey,” he murmured, his thumbs brushing away your tears. “It’s okay. I’m here. Just let it out.”

You shook your head, trying to get a grip on yourself, but the floodgates had opened, and there was no stopping it now. “I-I’m sorry,” you managed to choke out between sobs. “I didn’t want to bother you with this... I didn’t want to be a burden.”

Logan’s brow furrowed. “A burden? Darlin’, you could never be a burden. Not to me.”

You took a shaky breath, your hands clinging to his arms as if he were the only thing keeping you grounded. “It’s just... everything’s been so overwhelming. There’s been someone... someone who’s been bothering me, saying things that just… they won’t leave me alone, and I’ve tried to ignore it, but it’s been getting to me. And I don’t know how to handle it anymore, Logan. I’m just so tired.”

Logan’s eyes darkened at your words, a low growl rumbling in his chest. “Who’s been botherin’ you?”

You shook your head again, fresh tears spilling over. “It doesn’t matter. I didn’t want to say anything because I didn’t want to drag you into it, but I can’t... I can’t keep pretending that I’m okay when I’m not. I just feel so lost, Logan.”

Logan’s heart ached at the sight of you, so vulnerable and broken. He pulled you into his arms, wrapping you in a protective embrace, his hand cradling the back of your head as he pressed your face against his chest. “I’m sorry, darlin’. I’m so damn sorry.”

You clung to him, the sobs wracking your body as you let everything out—the fear, the frustration, the exhaustion. And Logan held you through it all, his arms a fortress around you, his presence a steady anchor in the storm.

“I shoulda noticed sooner,” he murmured into your hair. “Shoulda done somethin’ before it got this bad. But I’m here now, and I ain’t goin’ anywhere. We’ll figure this out together.”

You nodded weakly, your tears beginning to slow as the weight of his words settled over you. You’d been carrying so much on your own, trying to keep up the appearance of being okay, but now, in Logan’s arms, you finally felt like you could let go.

“I’m scared, Logan,” you whispered, your voice raw with emotion.

Logan tightened his grip on you, his voice low and fierce. “I know, sweetheart. But you don’t have to be scared anymore. I’ll take care of it. Whoever’s been messin’ with you, they’re gonna regret it.”

You pulled back slightly, looking up at him with red-rimmed eyes. “You don’t have to do that.”

“Yes, I do,” Logan replied, his tone leaving no room for argument. “No one messes with you and gets away with it. Not while I’m around.”

You managed a small, tearful smile at that, the first real smile Logan had seen from you in what felt like forever. “Thank you.”

He cupped your face in his hands, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “You don’t ever have to thank me for lookin’ out for you. You’re too important to me, darlin’. I don’t want you to ever feel like you gotta deal with this crap on your own.”

You leaned into his touch, the warmth of his hands seeping into your skin, chasing away the lingering cold that had settled in your bones over the past weeks. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Logan.”

“Lucky for you, you don’t gotta find out,” he said, a hint of his usual gruff humor returning to his voice. “I ain’t goin’ anywhere.”

You let out a shaky laugh, the last of your tears drying on your cheeks. “I’m glad.”

Logan gave you a small, reassuring smile before pulling you back into his arms, holding you close. You rested your head on his shoulder, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath you, the strong, sure beat of his heart a comforting rhythm that lulled you into a sense of peace you hadn’t felt in far too long.

For a while, the two of you just stayed like that, wrapped up in each other as the world outside faded away. And in that moment, you knew that no matter what came next, you wouldn’t have to face it alone. You had Logan by your side, and that was enough.

Finally, after what felt like both an eternity and no time at all, Logan pulled back slightly, looking down at you with a tenderness that made your heart ache in the best way.

“Come on,” he said softly, standing up and offering you his hand. “Let’s get you to bed. You need rest, and I’m not leavin’ you alone tonight.”

[ditsycafe]

game over, try again || n.r

pairings : nishimura riki x female!reader

genre : fluff, fluff, fluff

warnings : pinning reader down, niki losing at Mario Kart, tackling

a/n : do not in any way plagiarise, translate my work to another language or claim my work as your own.

Nishimura Riki sat cross-legged on the floor of his bedroom, controller in hand, eyes glued to the screen. Then intense music of Mario Kart filled the room as his girlfriend, Y/N, sat beside him, a smirk plastered on her face.

“You ready to lose again,” she teased glancing at him with playful confidence.

Riki scoffed, rolling his shoulders as if preparing for battle. “You got lucky last round. This time, I’m not holding back.”

Y/N giggled. “Sure sure. Just try to keep up, okay?”

The countdown began. 3…. 2…. 1…. GO!

Riki shot off the starting line, drifting around corners with practical precision. But Y/N was right on his tail, dodging obstacles, expertly launching red shells at him whenever he got too far ahead.

With the final lap approaching, Riki felt the pressure. He was in first place—until, at the very last second, Y/N unleashed a blue shell.

“No, no, no—“ he yelped as the shell struck, spinning him out just inches away from the finish line. Y/N’s character zoomed past, crossing the finish line first.

“YES!” she cheered, throwing her arms up in victory. “I won again!”

Riki stared at the screen in disbelief. “Are you serious?! That was sabotage!”

she laughed, leaning closer. “Nope. That was skill. Admit it, Riki, I’m just way better than you.”

Riki narrowed his eyes, a mischievous smile creeping onto his lips. “Oh yeah?”

Before Y/N could react, he tossed his controller aside and lunged at her, wrapping his arms around her waist and gently tackling her onto the floor. She shrieked in surprise, laughing as he hovered over her, his face inches from hers.

“Say I’m the real champion,” he teased, pinning her wrists down playfully.

Y/N wriggled beneath him, still laughing. “Never! The scoreboard doesn’t lie!”

Riki pouted dramatically. “Fine. Then I guess I’ll just have to tickle it out of you.”

Her eyes widened. “No, no, Riki—“

Too late. His fingers found her sides, and Y/N burst into uncontrollable laughter, squirming as he mercilessly tickled her.

“Okay! Okay!” She gasped between giggles. “You’re—sort of—a champion.”

Riki grinned, finally letting up, and collapsed beside her on the floor. They lay there, catching their breath, giggles still escaping between them.

“You know,” Riki murmured, turning his head to look at her. “Even when you beat me, I still kinda like you.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, but her smile was soft. “Lucky for you, I kinda like you too.”

He reached over, lacing his fingers with hers. “Rematch?”

she smirked. “Only if you’re ready to lose again.”

And just like that, the game continued—both on the screen and between them.

all rights to this work belongs to me @ditsycafe.

[natsaffection]

heyy this is my first time making a request and idk if it's okay but what if reader is like an anti-hero or villian and when reader gets hurt she shoves up to Natasha's apartment thinking she would maybe help her? idk if it works but I've been thinking about something like this and it would be great if you actually write itt😭😭😭

Lines crossed. | N.R

Avenger!Natasha x AntiHero!Reader

Warnings: Blood, Gore and injurys

Word Count: 2,6k

A/N: These are the stories I like the most. 🙏🏻 And I feel honored, that I can write your first ever request! 🏆

The city of New York was no stranger to chaos, but in recent months, a new shadow had begun to loom over its streets. This shadow was not the kind of evil the Avengers were used to dealing with..This was different. And this, was you, a name whispered in fear among the criminal underworld, a vigilante with a taste for vengeance and a history stained with blood.

You had risen to the top of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s most wanted list, a place usually reserved for supervillains and global threats. Your methods were brutal and unyielding, your sense of justice unwavering. To some, you were a hero. To others, a menace. But to the Avengers, you were a problem that needed solving.

“Another one,” Natasha Romanoff, the Black Widow, murmured as she stood over the lifeless body of a notorious gang leader, his blood pooling around him in a grotesque halo. “It’s her again.”

Clint joined her, shaking his head. “She’s getting bolder. This is the third one this week.” Natasha's eyes scanned the scene, taking in the familiar hallmarks of your handiwork. The precision, the brutality, the unmistakable sense of finality. "She’s not hiding anymore. She wants us to know it’s her."

Nick Fury appeared behind them, his expression unreadable as ever. "We need to bring her in. She's crossed too many lines, and now the media's starting to pick up on it. The last thing we need is a vigilante making us look incompetent."

Natasha nodded, her mind already running through the many encounters she’d had with you. Each one had been a battle of wills, fists, and wits. You were good, damn good. But Natasha was determined to be better.

You wiped the blood from your hands, your breathing steadying as you looked at the man you'd just eliminated. He had been a monster, a predator preying on the weak and innocent. You felt no remorse. In your eyes, justice had been served.

You knew the Avengers were close. You could feel their presence like a storm on the horizon. Especially Natasha. Your fights had become a dance of sorts, each trying to outmaneuver the other, each knowing that one day it would come down to a final, decisive confrontation.

Your phone buzzed, pulling you from your thoughts. You glanced at the message: another target, another mission. Your work was never done.

Back at the Avengers' headquarters, the team gathered around a holographic display of the city, pinpointing the locations of your recent activities. "We need to be strategic," Steve said, his voice calm but firm. "She’s not just any criminal. She’s trained, skilled, and she's got a mission."

Natasha’s eyes never left the display. She knew you better than most. She understood your motivations, your drive. And she knew that stopping you would require more than just brute force.

"It’s personal for her," Natasha said quietly. "And if we’re going to bring her in, we need to understand why she’s doing this." The team nodded, each member resolving to bring an end to your bloody crusade. But for Natasha, it was more than just another mission. It was a challenge, a test of her skills and resolve.

You moved through the city like a ghost, your mind focused on the task at hand. You knew the Avengers were watching, waiting. You relished the challenge. Each encounter with Natasha had pushed you to be better, sharper.

But you also knew that the game couldn’t go on forever. One day, it would come to an end. One way or another.As you prepared for your next mission, you couldn't help but wonder: when that day came, who would be the one standing? You or Natasha?

The city was alive with the sounds of sirens and distant traffic, but your focus was razor-sharp. You moved through the shadows, your target's location clear in your mind. You knew the Avengers were closing in, but you thrived on the edge, where danger and adrenaline fused into one intoxicating rush.

It didn’t take long for you to reach your target, a corrupt businessman with ties to multiple criminal organizations. You slipped past his security with ease, your movements precise and silent. As you stood over him, your eyes cold and unyielding, you knew this would send another message to the underworld and the Avengers alike.

Just as you were about to strike, the window shattered, and Natash swung in, landing gracefully on her feet, guns drawn. "Y/n, this ends now," Natasha said, her voice a mix of resolve and urgency. You smirked, stepping back to assess the new threat. "You always know how to make an entrance, Romanoff."

The two of you circled each other, the tension thick in the air. You made the first move, lunging forward with a series of rapid strikes. Natasha countered, your fists and feet a blur of motion. Each move was calculated, each strike intended to find a weakness.

The fight spilled into the hall, your movements fluid and fierce. You were relentless, your skills honed by years of training and combat. But Natasha was no less formidable, her experience and agility a match for your raw power.

In a desperate bid to escape, you knocked over a set of shelves, creating a momentary barrier. You dashed down the corridor, but your path was blocked by Steve. "Going somewhere?" Steve asked, raising his shield.

You didn’t hesitate. You launched yourself at him, your attacks relentless. Steve defended himself with his shield, but your sheer ferocity pushed him back. You knew you had to move fast. Every second counted.

A blast of energy struck the ground near you, and you turned to see Tony Stark hovering in his Iron Man suit. "You’re surrounded. Give it up."

With a quick glance, you calculated your options. You grabbed a nearby fire extinguisher, using it to create a cloud of smoke. In the confusion, you darted through a side door, your escape route planned to the last detail.

In the aftermath, the Avengers regrouped, frustration evident in their expressions. "She’s good," Clint said, rubbing his bruised arm. "We almost had her."

"Almost isn’t good enough," Tony replied, scanning the area for any sign of you. "She’s always one step ahead." Natasha looked at the ground, her mind replaying the fight. She admired your tenacity and skill, but she also knew that each encounter brought them closer to a dangerous tipping point.

"We need to change our approach," Natasha said. "She’s playing a game of survival. We need to make her see that we’re not the enemy." Steve nodded. "Agreed. We need to understand her motivations. If we can reach her, maybe we can end this without more bloodshed."

Weeks turned into months, and the chase between you and Natasha became legendary among the Avengers. Your reputation as a formidable adversary was solidified, but so was Natasha's determination to bring you in. Every encounter became a game of wits and skill, a deadly dance with an undercurrent of something more.

One night, Natasha found herself on a stakeout at a high-end nightclub. Her sources had tipped her off about a major criminal deal going down. She knew you would be there, drawn to the opportunity like a moth to a flame. Natasha blended into the crowd, her eyes scanning for any sign of her elusive target.

Suddenly, she felt a presence behind her. "Looking for someone?" your familiar, flirty voice whispered in her ear. Natasha spun around to find you, dressed to kill and wearing a mischievous grin.

"Yes, you." Natasha said, her voice steady despite the surprise. "You're getting bold." You chuckled, your eyes sparkling with mischief. "And you're getting predictable, Romanoff. I knew you'd be here."

Natasha moved closer, lowering her voice. "This ends tonight. You're coming with me." You raised an eyebrow, a playful smile tugging at your lips. "Are you asking me out on a date, or is this another one of your attempts to arrest me?"

Natasha couldn't help but smirk. "Depends on how you look at it." Before Natasha could react, you leaned in, your lips brushing Natasha's ear as you whispered, "Catch me if you can." Then, with a swift movement, you disappeared into the crowd.

Natasha's heart raced as she pursued you through the crowded club. The thrill of the chase was intoxicating, and she couldn't deny the electric connection between you. You were always one step ahead, leaving clues and taunts that kept Natasha on her toes.

The chase led them to the club's rooftop, the city lights sprawling beneath them. You stood at the edge, the wind whipping through your hair. Natasha approached slowly, her eyes locked on you.

"You can't keep running forever.“ Natasha said, her voice a mix of determination and something softer. You turned to face her, your expression unreadable. "I'm not running, Natasha. I'm fighting. Just like you."

Natasha took a step closer, her heart pounding. "We don't have to be enemies, Y/n.. Let us help you." Your gaze softened, and for a moment, Natasha saw the vulnerability beneath the tough exterior. "You don't understand. I've crossed too many lines. There's no going back for me."

Natasha reached out, her hand brushing your arm. "It's never too late to make a different choice. You can Trust me.“ You looked at Natasha, your eyes searching for something. Then, with a sigh, you pulled away. "Maybe in another life, Romanoff."

Before Natasha could react, you leaped off the rooftop, landing gracefully on a fire escape below. Natasha rushed to the edge, but you were already disappearing into the night.

—

One fateful evening, you found yourself cornered by a gang of criminals. You fought valiantly, but the numbers were overwhelming. By the time the dust settled, you were grievously wounded. Blood soaked your clothes, and every step sent waves of agony through your body.

Desperation set in as you stumbled through the dark alleys. You knew going to a hospital was out of the question. The police would arrest you on sight, and SHIELD agents were everywhere. You tried to treat your wounds in an abandoned building, using whatever you could find. With shaking hands, you attempted to stitch a deep gash on your side, but the pain was too intense and your vision blurred.

Realizing the severity of your injuries and your inability to treat them alone, you remembered, „You can Trust me.“ You had placed a small tracking device on Natasha’s shoe during one of your fights, anticipating you might need to find her someday.

The rain pelted the city in relentless sheets, washing away the grime of the day. You stood in front of Natasha's apartment door, your breath coming in shallow gasps. You leaned heavily against the frame, your vision swimming. Despite the pain, you forced a playful smile onto your lips. You had to get inside. You had to see Natasha.

With a trembling hand, you knocked on the door. It felt like an eternity before it finally swung open. Natasha stood there, her expression a mix of surprise and annoyance.

"How did you find me?" Natasha asked, her voice cold. You tried to straighten up, wincing as you did. "Miss me already, Romanoff?" you said, your voice weak but carrying a hint of flirtation. "Couldn't stay away.."

Natasha's eyes narrowed. "You've got a lot of nerve showing up here. Why are you here?" Ignoring the question, you leaned against the doorframe, your legs barely holding you up. "Thought I'd drop by... see your lovely face," you managed, your vision beginning to darken around the edges.

Natasha's patience snapped. She grabbed her phone, her fingers quickly dialing S.H.I.E.L.D.'s number. "Enough with the games. I'm done with this."

Your heart sank, your body swaying. You tried to take a step forward but stumbled, your strength failing. You collapsed into Natasha, who caught you out of reflex. As your full weight pressed against her, Natasha's eyes widened in horror. Blood soaked through your clothes, warm and sticky, covering Natasha's hands.

"Oh my God.." Natasha whispered, her phone slipping from her fingers as she cradled your limp body. "Y/n, what happened??" Your head lolled to the side, your eyes struggling to stay open. "Guess I... pushed it too far this time..“ you murmured, your voice barely audible.

Natasha quickly assessed the situation, her mind racing. "We need to get you inside.“ she said, her tone urgent. She half-carried, half-dragged you into the apartment, laying you on the couch. Blood pooled on the floor, and Natasha's hands shook as she grabbed her first aid kit.

"Stay with me, Y/n," Natasha urged, tearing open your shirt to reveal a deep, gaping wound along your side. The sight of old scars crisscrossing your chest made Natasha's heart clench. "God, what did you do?!“

She worked quickly, her training kicking in. She poured antiseptic over the wound, her hands moving with practiced precision. Your body trembled with pain, your fingers digging into the couch. "God, that burns," you whimpered, tears streaming down your face. "F-Fuck, Natasha, it h-hurts..“

"I know it does," Natasha said, her voice softening. "But I need you to stay with me. I don't have any narcotics, so this is going to be rough."

Your eyes were glazed with pain, your breathing shallow. "Just do it…" you managed to say. Natasha threaded a needle, her fingers slick with blood. She began to stitch the largest wound, her focus intense. Your body shook with each stitch, your teeth clenched to hold back screams. The raw pain was almost unbearable, and low moans of agony escaped your lips despite your best efforts.

"You're doing great," Natasha said, her own voice trembling. "Just a few more." Your fingers clawed at the couch, your knuckles white. "Natasha... please, hurry," you gasped, your voice barely a whisper.

Natasha's heart ached at the sight of your suffering. "I'm almost done," she said, her tone soothing. "Just hold on a little longer."

Your eyes fluttered, your strength fading fast. "Sorry... for your couch...and for everything," you whispered, tears mixing with the blood on your face. "I never wanted it to be like this.."

Natasha's eyes were full with understanding. "We'll talk about it tomorrow. Right now, I need you to hold on." She finished the stitches, then bandaged the wounds as best she could. Your body relaxed slightly, your breathing still labored but more steady.

"It's done," Natasha said, sitting back and wiping her forehead. "You're going to be okay." Your eyes closed, exhaustion overtaking you. Natasha grabbed a blanket and covered you, then sat beside you, holding your hand gently. "I'm here," Natasha whispered. "You're safe now. Rest and we’re sorting everything tomorrow out, okay?"

You whimpered softly, your body shaking from the pain and the cold. Natasha gently brushed a strand of hair from your face, her expression tender. "I never thought I'd see you like this," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

Your eyes fluttered open, focusing on Natasha with difficulty. "Guess... I can't always be the strong one.“ you murmured, a weak smile playing on your lips.

Natasha's heart tightened. "You don't have to be strong all the time," she said softly. "It's okay to let someone help you." You nodded weakly, your eyes drifting closed again. "Thank you, Natasha.“ you whispered.

Natasha squeezed your hand gently, "You're going to be alright," she said, her voice filled with determination. "I won't let anything happen to you."

As she sat there, watching over you, Natasha knew that this was a turning point. You had come to her for help, and that meant there was still hope. She would find a way to bring you back from the edge, no matter what it took.

Part 2

[star-girl69]

I Can See You

Clarisse La Rue x Fem!AphroditeCabin!Reader

—-

sypnosis: you and clarisse work together to get revenge on a mutual enemy, but when that plan involves pretending to date clarisse, something better than revenge happens. requested by anonymous!

a/n: I AM SO EXCITED FOR THIS ONE HOLY FRICK. the beginning is so bad and just like worldbuilding but i PROMISE!!!!! keep reading!!!!!! pls ignore the fact im reusing jackie and tyla i’m attached to them anyways i hope you all enjoy!!

I Can See You - Taylor Swift

(also Dress by tay was the original title soooo…..)

warnings: not proofread, the beginning is so bad i swear it gets better, a little suggestive haha…., kissing ofc, fake dating!!!!!!!!!, JEALOUS CLARISSE JEALOUS CLARISSE I REPEAT JEALOUS CLARISSE!!!!!!!, swearing, violence, mentions of murder!, protective clarisse the loml, ALCOHOL!!!!! reader gets drunk, allusions to sex, MENTIONS OF SEXUAL ASSAULT please be VERY careful, tell me if i missed anything!!

—-

“What the hell are you all doing?”

You had waited until nighttime for a reason, for the light of the full moon and hopefully some peace. You and your siblings looked up at the voice.

Xavier Bones was possibly the rudest and most self-centered person you had ever had the displeasure of meeting. His father was Ares, which made sense, seeing as he had a wicked temper and was strong as shit. Most of the kids from the Ares cabin could probably snap you like a stick if they wanted, but what scares you about Xavier is that he might actually do it.

He’s rude to everyone he sees, but he particularly has it out for the Aphrodite cabin. Just because Aphrodite kids didn’t have skill in battle like Ares kids, or aren’t wicked smart like Athena kids doesn’t mean they’re worthless. Xavier just didn’t understand anything except brute force.

He didn’t understand any other kind of power.

The whole reason you’re out here tonight is to finally finish the potion you’ve been making. Amokinesis was strictly a spoken sort of magic, and it was hard to do it to more than one person. But, you and your siblings had decided that maybe you could try and follow in the steps of sorceresses like Medea and Circe, using spelled objects and potions to execute your power. You had been collaborating with a Hecate kid for weeks now, learning everything you could about potion making until you were finally ready to try and make a simple truth potion- love and desire also opened the door to truth.

Aster, the daughter of Hecate who had been helping you, said it was a relatively easy first timer potion and hopefully with your Amokinesis it would come together.

You look up at Xavier, watching as he smiles in disbelief.

“Oh, don’t tell me you’re trying to make some sort of love potion, huh?” He sits down at the picnic table, curiously leaning in to look at it.

“Get back,” Jackie, your sibling, hisses waving her hand at him so he’ll back up.

“Okay, okay,” he smiles, some glint in his eyes. He holds his hands up in mock surrender. “I’m just trying to figure out why you’re wasting all this time, seeing as it probably won’t work.”

“Shut up, Xavier,” you sighed. You needed this bad. You needed to prove to everyone that love wasn’t a stupid power. You were so sick of Xavier, of everyone and their treatment of the Aphrodite cabin. Jackie wanted so desperately to learn how to use a spear, but no one would pay enough attention to her.

You need this.

“I thought you guys were supposed to be nice?”

You opt to ignore him.

“Hm, okay, definitely not nice. Good thing I’m not either.”

He spits his gum out and drops it straight into the cauldron.

“Fucking bitch!” Jackie screams, Tyla looks like she’s about to cry, and the wooden spoon you’re holding in your hands is about to crack under the pressure.

The potion changes an odd color, a murky brown.

“Oops,” he says.

He laughs and walks away, and you faintly wonder what happened to him to make him so cruel.

—-

The next morning you’re all stewing silently at breakfast. Jackie is glaring daggers at the Ares table, Tyla is ranting about how you need to get all the ingredients again, and you’re trying to listen and join Jackie at staring maliciously.

“I’m gonna murder him, I think.”

“I’ll help,” you murmur, favoring staring at your hands instead of being caught staring at him.

“Do you think Clarisse will let me borrow her spear? How much would that sting, getting killed by one of your Dad’s weapons, huh?”

“She probably would,” Tyla mumbles. “She hates him too, ever since he beat her sparring.”

You resist the urge to scoff. You were there that day, and Xavier had played dirty.

They were sparring, she was winning, when he suddenly pointed behind her and shouted that Ares was there. Of course, everyone had turned to look, and he had disarmed her and kicked her down while she was distracted.

Of course, the next day he was walking around sporting a black eye, but Clarisse had never lived that day down. Xavier had never lived that down, either, exactly why they’re sitting on opposite ends of the table now.

Jackie stares off into the distance. She lets out a small laugh.

“I have a horrible idea.”

“What if we make Xavier fall in love with one of us, right?”

You and Tyla both gag.

“Wait, wait! But then we just lead him on, and maybe Clarisse will do us a favor and pretend to date-”

Tyla snorts. “She would never do that.”

You remember seeing the anger on her face that day. The rage, really, the betrayal. But you remember seeing the sadness too. A part of her had really thought Ares was gonna be there. You remember feeling so, so bad for her.

No one should deserve to feel like that, but it comes with the territory of being a demigod.

“It wouldn’t hurt to ask, right?”

Tyla and Jackie stare at you like you’ve just cursed out Hades.

“I’ll do it. Tyla, no offense, but I think you’d crack under the pressure. And Jacks, you would just start punching him.”

“Yeah,” Tyla murmurs.

“I would,” Jackie agrees.

“I mean, it might actually work.”

—-

You corner her the next day.

She’s outside her cabin, practicing some spear forms when you walk over to her. This is all moving so fast, but you can’t help the fact that revenge is so fun. Why wait when you can get it now?

Revenge is supposed to be served best cold, but you’ve always been a little too handsy, a little too greedy for your own good. You want revenge and you want it now.

“Clarisse, hi.” You smile, she spares you a glance and doesn’t say anything. “I’m Y/N, you don’t know me but I was wondering if I could ask you for a favor.”

The spear stops in mid air. She moves from a offensive position to a standing position, and she looks you up and down so painfully slow that you think your organs are gonna burst.

“What?”

“So, you know Xavier?” you sit down on the picnic bench behind you. “I’m sure you know him, and I’m sure you know that he’s an asshole. He ruined something me and my siblings were doing, and he’s been so rude to all Aphrodite kids for so long so, we just wanna get him back.

She squints at you. “How?”

“We’re gonna use our amokinesis to make him fall in love with me, then maybe, hopefully, we can fake date to make him lose his mind.”

She stares at you blankly for a second. Your heart drops, oh, Gods, you never should have done this.

You’re gonna be the laughingstock of camp.

“‘Cause, you know, you both hate each others guts. And if he’s in love with me, but then he sees you and me together- it was this whole thing about making him see the power of love, you know, ‘cause like-”

She grabs you by your cheeks, pinching your face together, your lips puffing out.

“You can stop rambling, now.” She smiles in a demeaning way, and you would feel insulted if the way she wasn’t gripping your face right now wasn’t addicting. “I actually think it’s a pretty great plan. Surprising, but, whatever.”

You ignore that.

“So, you’ll do it?”

“When are you gonna spell him?”

“As soon as possible, tonight, at the bonfire.”

“Okay,” she nods, thinking to herself. “Come meet me before you do it.”

“Yeah, sure.”

Clarisse La Rue touched your face. Clarisse touched your face, and you really fucking liked it.

—-

The three of you sit by the edge of the bonfire. You locked eyes with Clarisse a few minutes ago, letting her know you’re here.

Tyla fusses with your hair, even though you all spent an hour making everything about you perfect. It would be nice to look hot if you were gonna make him fall in love with you.

You watch as she makes her way towards the bathrooms.

Her golden skin shines in the light of the fire, she adjusts her shirt, and you swear you see her abs just under the orange fabric-

“Clarisse is pretty, isn’t she?” Tyla says. “I mean, I almost wish I was the one fake dating her.���

And she is. She is so painfully pretty.

“I’ll tell you all about it,” you wink.

When you step into the bathroom, Clarisse locks the door behind you. You turn around and she’s there. She looks you up and down. You can’t make out the look on her face.

“You’re really trying to impress him, huh?” she smirks. You ignore that.

The ceiling is low in here, so you walk to the corner and reach up at the loose board. You slide it over, reaching inside and grabbing the small bag.

Aphrodite kid secret- makeup is hidden everywhere around camp.

She stares at you. “Has that always been up there?”

You go to the mirror, taking out the mascara and applying another layer.

“Uh… yeah.”

She leans against the wall next to the mirror, watching you with such an intensity it’s like you’re the one beautiful thing in some bloody war she can’t take her eyes away from.

“We should probably set some ground rules,” you say. She hums. “This will probably only be for a month or so.”

“That’s fine.”

You stare pointedly at yourself in the mirror. You, Jacks and Tyla had dumped almost all of your plates into the offerings fire at lunch, hoping for good luck from Aphrodite. With the way your skin seems to glow, your makeup flawless, it seems she’s pleased by your offerings.

Maybe her and Ares are having a fight up on Olympus, and she’s itching to see him knocked down a peg, however vicariously through someone else.

“Well, you can do whatever you want to me.”

“I- what?” you blink, staring at Clarisse like she just turned into a cyclops.

“You can kiss me, hug me, whatever. I mean, we should really do this if we’re gonna do it. Sell it, or whatever.”

“Oh, okay. Yeah, I guess you can do whatever too.”

Clarisse can touch you wherever she wants.

You look up discreetly. Please, Mom, you think. Don’t let me fall in love with Clarisse La Rue.

It’s fine to admit to yourself that you’d like to jump on top of her, but she’s still an Ares kid. She’s a bully, if you’re being honest. But can you say that you’re not one too after this?

Love can burn down cities, love can start wars, love can end them. Love is always there from the beginning of your life to your beginning. The doctor who delivered you loves their career. The woman who makes flower arrangement for your funeral loves flowers, even if she hates making them for funerals.

Love is always there, and when it’s used as a weapon you know it is one of the deadliest things.

But you’re too deep in this now.

She walks around so she’s standing behind you, adjusting her hair in the mirror.

She puts her hand on your hip. You take a deep breath, you pretend. You pretend so hard it might become real.

She smiles brightly in the mirror. “See you out there, baby.”

—-

You pull your top down. That’s the easiest way to get a man to look at you. Pull your top down. You get a few looks as you move through the tree trunk benches, careful that you don’t accidentally trip, because that would completely fuck up the plan.

There’s a part of you that comes from your mother. The part that some may call vain, but how is it your fault to enjoy the attention that other people are giving you? It’s not your fault they’re looking. It’s not your fault you look like your mother’s daughter.

You walk a little longer, finally setting your eyes on Xavier, sitting across the fire from Clarisse and her group. You eyes meet hers. She pretends to itch her nose, but you can see the laugh she’s hiding. You take one more deep breath, say one more please to your mother.

“Xavier,” you say. “Can I sit?”

He already seems a little shocked that you’re talking to him on purpose, but he quickly recovers and pushes his friend down the trunk.

You sit, your thigh touching his, folding your hands over your legs.

“I just wanted to say, Xavier, that you were right. The other night… the potion would have failed anyways. Thank you so much for ruining it when you did. Who knows what could have happened? It could have exploded everywhere.”

You laugh, putting your hand on his arm. He looks up at you, mouth slightly parted.

You said his name twice and he’s already sucked in.

“Really, Xavier, thank you.” You smile softly, looking at his lips before back up to his eyes.

His hand lands on your knee.

“You’re welcome, sweetheart.”

You watch Jackie walk by. He doesn’t hear her whisper. But you see it in his eyes.

You pretend to blush, brushing your hand down his arm before it lands back in your own lap. He leans in closer, until his lips are brushing your ear.

“Why don’t I give you some more things to be thankful for?”

Tyla walks by. He doesn’t hear her whisper either.

“Oh, I should really get back to Clarisse. Sorry, Xavier,”

His hand tightens on your knee and he pulls back.

“C-Clarisse? What would you be doing with her?”

You feign innocence. “Well, she’s my girlfriend. I do a lot of things with her,” you giggle. “I just wanted to thank you, but I should get going. Bye, Xavier!”

You blow him a kiss as you stand up, and you can practically see the hearts in his eyes right along with the blazing rage. You can feel him stare as you walk away, hips swaying.

Clarisse is still trying to hide her laugh when you start walking over to her. The tree trunk around her is all full of people, and a few more are even on the ground.

You stand in front of her, smiling softly.

“Are you not gonna let your girlfriend sit down?”

“Of course I am.”

She leans back and pats her knee. She draws you forward by wrapping her big hand around your hip. When you sit down, she rests her hand flat against your stomach, pressing you right to her. Her other hand rests on your thigh.

Please, Mom, don’t let me fall in love with Clarisse La Rue. Don’t let me like her touching me like this.

Everyone is staring.

It’s exhilarating.

You twist your face into something serious, trying not to break out into a fit of embarrassing giggles.

Her breath tickles your neck.

“I gotta admit, you little witch, that was impressive.”

You smile and place your hand over hers.

“I know.”

—-

The day after the bonfire, everybody at camp is talking about you and Clarisse.

How long have they been dating? Why did they decide to become public now? I swear I saw Y/N and Xavier getting close, though, what happened?

You’ve been trying not to break out laughing all morning. During breakfast you blew Clarisse a kiss and heard one of your siblings gasp dramatically and mumble about how sweet young love is.

Jackie and Tyla made paper hearts for you during arts n’ crafts, talking loudly about how you were such a lovesick little thing. You know Xavier heard about all of those things, because he stares at you every chance he gets and glares at Clarisse at the same time.

You keep exchanging subtle glances with her, small smiles, secrets in between your gazes. It’s nice to have something like this.

After dinner, the two of you go to the woods to pretend like you’re having a secret date. Clarisse brings her spear and you bring a blanket.

You’ve been laying there comfortably for a while, arms under your head like a pillow.

“I wanna know how you did it,” she says, turning her spear in her hands. You open one eye to look at her.

“I say his name a bunch of times. With, like, a lot of intention. Then Jackie and Tyla came by and whispered “you’re in love with the girl in front of you” and other stuff like that. It’s hard to explain. It’s just, like, this power.”

“I was imagining, like, one of those mortal movies, you know? A potion, or something.”

“Oh, we’re trying that too. Medea used her amokinesis in the form of potions and spelled objects, so me, Jackie, and Tyla have been talking to Aster, who’s a child of Hecate, and we tried to make a truth potion.” You laugh, thinking of that night. “That’s why we’re doing this, actually. Xavier found us and stuck his gum in it, so… completely ruined. We have to wait for the next full moon and get all the ingredients. It sucks, whatever, I guess.”

She listened intently the entire time you were talking. Aphrodite kids are always jumping from one thing to another. Clarisse is so focused and single-minded. It feels good to be the center of just one person’s attention. Not having people look at you, but just one person look at you.

“Every time I see him I think about stabbing him 20 times. Now I’ll think about sticking gum in his ear, too.” She turns to you and smiles.

None of that stupid smirking shit she always does, or those over-exaggerated demeaning smiles, she really smiles at you.

Her smile is really pretty.

You laugh along with her after a second.

“I would love to see that,” you murmur, propping yourself up on your forearms. “What really made you agree to do this? I mean, I know you guys surface level hate each other but, come on, I was just rambling and you were all ‘let’s do it’.”

“I hate him,” she shrugs. “Why do you care, anyways? You got what you wanted. Enjoy my beautiful self while it lasts.”

“Yeah, okay,” you chuckle.

You don’t leave until the stars come out.

—-

The second day after the bonfire, Clarisse invites you to sit with her at lunch. Usually, you’re supposed to stay at your cabin tables, but Chiron is busy all day and no one would snitch on Clarisse.

You walk over with your tray in hand, watching as she whispers something to her siblings. You smile at them before she pats the seat next to her.

“Hey,” the boy next to you greets. “I’m Matty.”

He points to the girl across from him. “That’s Marjorie,” he points to the other boy with dark skin across from Clarisse, “That’s Daniel,” and finally your eyes land on the blonde girl sitting across from you.

“I’m Sarah,” she smiles. She seems nice, at least. So does Matty. The rest just seem sort of standoffish. There’s a scuffle under the table, then Daniel glares at Clarisse.

“Hi, Y/N,” he says. “Nice to meet you.”

Matty is sickly sweet nice, handsome too, and you almost wonder if he’s really a child of Ares. But he’s got that same focus like Clarisse.

He asks you questions and listens to your answers.

He had the bad stroke of fate in accidentally getting you going about your experiments in potions and amokinesis, and you find yourself shuffling closer to him.

“Sorry,” you laugh. “I’ll stop torturing you now.”

“No, no, it’s fine. I love a passionate person.”

You weren’t sure if he meant that to be flirting.

Usually you’re good at picking up these things, all Aphrodite kids have a knack for it, but you think he’s just really nice.

You stare at him, tilting your head to the side when Clarisse suddenly grabs your waist and pulls you closer to her. Her breath tickles your neck, just like the bonfire.

“You’re supposed to be my girlfriend, not his,” she whispers, her chin resting against your shoulder.

You roll your eyes. “Am I not allowed to have a conversation?”

“Not when he’s looking.” You spare a quick glance. Xavier is looking at you, a mix between glaring and starting longingly.

“He looks like a cross-eyed dog,” you giggle.

And to your surprise, Clarisse presses her face into your shoulder to muffle her laugh.

—-

All the time you spend with Clarisse is like some stupid board game you play with Tyla and Jackie when there’s nothing else to do. Jenga. That one where you crack the ice and try not to make the polar ball fall.

The games where you chip it away slowly, one by one, wondering if this time will be the time that it falls, if you’ll be the one to lose the game.

You push a little more each time with Clarisse. Each conversation, you learn a little more, you chip away a few of her walls.

It’s addicting to open her up slowly, to get to know her like this. And when it’s just you and her alone, when Xavier isn’t around to torture, you swear it doesn’t feel fake.

—-

The eighth day after the bonfire, you skip arts n’ crafts to follow Clarisse to the archery range.

While the Apollo kids have all that effortless, natural skill with archery, Ares kids are still deadly. You faintly remember seeing Clarisse shoot once. Even though it’s not her weapon of choice, her aim was deadly and she didn’t miss one shot.

You’re okay with a bow.

Clarisse sees the perfect opportunity to flaunt in front of Xavier.

As soon as you crest the hill, your eyes find his, and he beelines towards you.

“Y/N, sweetheart, what can I do for you?”

It’s easy to switch on that stereotypical persona. You twist your fingers into your shirt.

“Yeah, can you help me?” you look up at him, trying to be as disgustingly sweet as you can,

“What’d you need?” he takes a step closer, about to cage you in between him and the cart full of bows and arrows.

“Can you help me pick out a bow? I don’t know what one would be right for me, I don’t know anything about archery. Please?”

He reaches past you, coming close so your back hits the wooden cart. You can’t help the way your eyes widen. He’s bold, you’ll give him that. Everyone reacts differently under the spell, but their true personalities still shine through.

He picks one up, running his hand up and down the curved wood. He plucks at the string, nodding to himself.

“This one’s fit for a lady.”

You take it, fingertips brushing his. “Oh, thank you so much, Xavier.” You give him a small side hug as you run past him, eager to get away from him.

You just need to find Clarisse.

“Hey, don’t you need some help shooting?” you glance over your shoulder, watching him advance.

Where the hell is Clarisse?

You’re about to say you’re fine when you suddenly slide into someone’s arms. You would have slammed into her, if not for the way Clarisse softly reached out to touch your arm, and Gods, you recognize the feel of her skin.

You knew she was there and you gratefully walked forward, your chests touching, her arm around your shoulders.

“I’ll take it from here, Xavier.”

You look up at her. She’s smiling in that same demeaning way.

You’ve grown to like it.

He doesn’t say anything else. You hear him stomp off.

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. When you open your eyes after a moment, you realize how close you are.

You’re so close it’s just one move and that’s it. One move and you both know that’ll change it all.

You think she just worked out. You can feel the muscles of her arm against you, you can see the sweat on her hairline, you can see her breathing heavily.

You could just press your ear to her chest and feel everything.

The way her brown eyes reflect the sunshine is mesmerizing. You’ve been looking at her for so long, but it’s like you’re looking into the surface of a lake you swear you recognize, slightly green murky waters, but there was a whole world under the surface if you cared to look.

But you didn’t care to look for the Clarisse under the surface. You don’t care. You don’t want to.

She clears her throat and let’s go of you.

You back up.

“Put that thing down, he probably fucking poisoned it.”

You turn the bow in your hands, but when you look up, she’s already walking towards the far end of the field.

“Wait, wait, what am I gonna use then?”

“Mine, obviously.” You drop the bow.

—-

After taking a few deep breaths, and Clarisse going over the basics again, you filled your mind with images of a bow and arrow and not of her eyes. Not of her lips.

Clarisse La Rue hates Aphrodite kids too, just not as much as Xavier, and not enough to resist revenge.

You focus on that. That’s why you’re here. Revenge.

Revenge for every fucked up thing he’s said, revenge for every time he’s come too hard at you during capture the flag, revenge for all of your siblings and everyone he’s ever tortured.

“Ok, there, that’s a good stance.” She’s raking her eyes up and down your body. But you’re here for revenge. She glanced over her shoulder. “Except for…”

She presses her body to yours from behind, molding against you like she was made to protect you like this, her hand covering yours, her stance just a little wider. She glides her hand across your arm.

“Up, up, just a little.” She’s whispering right into your ear. You let her hands guide you. Your mouth feels dry. “Then let go.”

And how badly you want to let go. You want to let go of these feelings rolling around in your stomach like stones, you want to let go and let them become butterflies and fall into Clarisse.

You prayed to your mother not to fall in love with her, but maybe you should trust your mom. Maybe you should let go.

But you don’t.

You let go of the arrow instead, you keep your tumbling feelings inside, and to your shock you only hit a few inches from the bullseye.

The bow swings in your hand.

“Holy shit. Did I- did I just do that?”

Clarisse laughs. “You did, baby.”

You turn around and throw your arms around her neck, smiling wide and laughing hysterically. The bow was the one weapon you thought you could never master, and here you are after one lesson with Clarisse.

She wraps her arms around your waist, and even though you’ve hugged like this a million times, you both know it’s different this time. And you both ignore it.

But for one second, you’re pretending so hard it’s almost real. It’s almost a real date.

—-

On the ninth day, it all goes to shit.

Sword practice is held just after lunch, when the sun is still high in the sky. The Ares and Aphrodite cabins share the field first, and you, Jackie and Tyla take your time stretching to enjoy the show.

Tyla has to turn around to hide her laugh as you bend over slowly, making sure Xavier is watching, then when you face comes up flushed you smile at him. He smiles back.

You wave to Clarisse and he glares at her.

Jackie says it will take him 5 minutes to ask her to spar. Tyla says 5 too. You say it’ll take him maybe 3 minutes.

He spars with one person, a two minute match, then marched right up to Clarisse.

“How about we go, huh? Want another chance to try and beat me?”

Clarisse was smiling before he walked over, talking to her friends. Her smile fades and is replaced by the dark mask of pure focus.

“I’d love to beat you, Xavier.”

She walks past you to grab a sword from the rack.

Her eyes meet yours. You reach out and put your hand on her face, softly pressing her lips against yours. It’s a peck. It’s barely there. At least now you can check off a box and say you’ve kissed Clarisse La Rue.

She seems so shocked that you’ve actually kissed her you swear she loses her footing for a second. You swear her cheeks are a little flushed. By she stands up taller and ignores it, just like you’ve both been doing for so long.

“Good luck, baby!” you call as she walks off to the circle marked off for sparring.

Xavier looks like he’s about to light the grass on fire.

“She’s gonna beat his ass,” Jackie whispers.

“If he loses, do you think I should comfort him after?”

“Oh, Gods, yes,” Tyla smiles. “That’s so mean. We’re so mean.” It feels too good to stop.

Kissing Clarisse almost felt too good to stop. Even that second, one more longer and you would have been sucked in. You decide not to kiss her for however long this goes on.

Once you start kissing her, you’re scared you’ll never stop.

Revenge feels to good, and you need this.

As soon as they face each other Xavier springs out with a million offensive attacks, slightly sloppy- you can see his anger. Everyone knows you can’t let your emotion get in the way of battle.

Clarisse is calm and counters all his attacks. She even smiles, which makes your stomach flip in a way that isn’t fake.

Her sword flicks along his cheek. It’s a paper cut, barely.

“Oh no,” Clarisse fake frets. “You need me to walk you to the nurse?”

He grunts and launches an attack that’s just plain stupid. It’s messy. He swings too wide. She knocks his sword out of his hand.

He goes to dive for it but her sword is already at his neck.

He breathes heavily, staring at her, and it’s suddenly dead quiet. No more talking, no more swords clanging.

Your eyes are flicking in between them like a ball bouncing up and down. But they linger on Clarisse. Of course they linger on Clarisse.

It’s so quiet you swear you can hear her heartbeat.

“Daddy’s behind you,” he whispers.

She whips around, taking her sword with her, but no one is there. Of course no one is there.

Xavier runs away laughing, and Clarisse turns around. Her cheeks are flushed, she’s gripping the hand of the sword so tight you’re surprised it hasn’t broken off.

Clarisse is not your girlfriend. Clarisse is not even your friend.

But she’s someone, she’s someone to you, and you can’t stand to see her like this.

You walk forward and put your hand on her wrist, taking the sword from her. You’re not even in control of your arms and legs.

She stares pointedly at the distance.

“Let’s go,” you whisper, giving her no choice and pulling her along. You throw the sword at the rack.

—-

You end up in Clarisse’s cabin, door clicking shut behind you as you press your back to it. She stays silent for a moment, until she screams and throws someone’s pillow at the wall. You don’t say anything.

You don’t say anything but you follow her to her bed.

“I’m so sorry,” you whisper, watching as she sits down, fists clenched so tight you hope she isn’t bleeding. “I’m so sorry, Clarisse.”

“You weren’t the one who fell for it. You weren’t the one who fell for that stupid, stupid, childish trick. I did.”

“You wouldn’t even be here if it wasn’t for us and our plan. If it wasn’t for me.”

You sit down on the bed next to hers.

“Why are you even here? We’re not actually dating, dummy. You can go.”

“I know,” you murmur. You know. You know you aren’t dating. You know you shouldn’t be here. “But you’re still something, Clarisse.”

She slips off her armor.

“I’m not something to you.”

She wants someone else to hurt like she does. She wants someone else to take the fall, to be embarrassed and the center of everyone’s attention so she doesn’t have to.

“I’ll never be something to you, Y/N, just- just go away. This is over, I’m not doing it anymore.”

“Yeah, okay,” you mutter. There’s something wet in your eyes and your throat tightens up. “That’s fine.”

You leave silently and you cry in the woods.

—-

When you finally make your way back to your cabin at nightfall, everyone is fussing around you. Your hair’s messy, mascara streams down your face, your shirt is wet with tears.

“Where have you been?” one of your brothers asks, and the rest of your siblings echo the sentiment.

Tyla doesn’t say anything when she sees you. She just wraps her arms around you. Jackie stands just behind her, eyes locking with yours. She knows. She doesn’t move. She can see it on your face, she can see it in your eyes.

Aphrodite children are predisposed to fall in love fast and hard. You’ve all gathered around your siblings time and time again when their hearts inevitably got broken.

No one wants to date an Aphrodite kid. Not really.

They all think you’re vain and self-centered. They all think you’re weak and useless.

When it comes down to it, that’s what you are.

How can you claim to wield the power of love when it brings you to your knees too?

You thought Clarisse was hot. You thought you could leave it at that. You thought you could pretend, you thought you could ignore it.

But the more you think about it, the more tears fall down your face, the more you realize you were ignoring the wrong thing. You spent so much time trying not to want Clarisse you forgot that she doesn’t even want you. It stings, like a knife in the chest, it hurts to know you’re making it all up.

But it was always pretend. It was always fake. That’s what fake dating is. The Aphrodite side of you just forgot that you couldn’t find comfort in her arms, you couldn’t memorize the feel of her skin, you couldn’t hear the sound of her heartbeat and pretended it beat for you.

You look up at the sky and you want to curse your mother. You want to know why she has abandoned you. But in your heart, you know she hasn’t abandoned you. The Goddess of Love is right next to you, and this is what it feels like.

Knives in your heart. Memories of heartbeats, memories of skin, memories of soft voices and secrets and the feeling that something was yours, something was quiet and shared.

“Y/N,” Jackie breathes.

The words hurt. You say them anyways.

“I fucked up,” you sob. “I fucked up, Jackie. She doesn’t- she won’t, she never will-”

“Y/N,” Tyla coos.

“I fell in love. I fell in love, and it’s over.”

—-

You give up on wearing makeup. The sadness still seeps through your face, and you end up crying most of it off anyways. A few of your hoodies are just permanently stained with mascara with how much you cried. The tears stream down your face and carry the little black specks with it.

You try to visualize everything you feel leaving with the black specks. The love, the anger, the sadness, the regret. But it doesn’t leave, and you’re too tired of trying to hide from it.

Everyone thinks you miserably broke up, and it’s mortifying to know that Clarisse knows you’re like this, she knows you’re absolutely ruined over this- and it was never even real.

You keep telling yourself that. It was fake. It was never real.

But it feels real, the memories feel real. You know they happened, you know Clarisse touched you so often it’s like you’re burned with it. You say she had to have felt it to, because the more you remember the more you remember the electricity, the charge in the air.

But you might just be making that up.

Lunch is the worst time. She’s always so happy at lunch, her and her table laughing loudly. She mentioned to you once, one of those fake star-studded dates in the woods, that she’s always to tired by dinner time because she trains so hard for most of the day.

You stare at her when no one’s looking, and everyone can see you better in the bright light of day- and you can’t look away.

Tyla mumbles that they’re gonna get up to make their offerings, she doesn’t ask if you’re gonna come. You’re probably not even going to eat more than a few bites again.

You’re alone at the stone table.

Xavier sees that as an opportunity.

Love spells are best to break on a full moon. You thought it would go on longer than this, and he’s only become more emboldened by what everyone sees as a breakup.

He sits down next to you, smiling sadly. You prop your head up in your hand.

“Y/N, you sad angel.” His hand grazes your shoulder, you can’t be bothered to tell him to stop. He places a flower in front of you. “To cheer you up.”

“Thanks, Xavier,” you mutter. He stares at you for a moment longer. Jackie comes back, slamming her tray down onto the table.

“Go away, Xavier,” she says, the same thing she says every day. Jackie has this look in her eyes that lets you know she’s ready to jump on you if she has to.

You think he would stop trying, but he can’t. He can’t because of this stupid love spell that ruined everything. And you can’t even take it off of him, not until the full moon.

You wouldn’t feel like this if it wasn’t for that love spell.

—-

There is one a day a year that Chiron turns a blind eye to parties. The summer solstice all of the cabin leaders come together to throw a huge party, mostly centered around the bonfire, food and drinks and even music. It’s the one night a year where you’re allowed to be teenagers, and it’s not taken lightly.

It even makes you feel a little excited.

“So what if all that shit happened?” Tyla asked. “We’re gonna make sure you look as hell at this party, and then you’re gonna go find someone and make out with them in a dark corner. Don’t even look who it is. Just grab the first random person and kiss them.”

“Okay, well, I’m not doing that, but I will do something of the sort. There is definitively some making out on my list tonight.”

“Oh, as long as it’s not with Xavier,” Tyla frets.

Jackie kicks her. “If Y/N makes out with Xavier, I will personally pay Chiron a million dollars to feed both of them to some horrible monster.”

“Supportive,” you muse.

Jackie gasps. “I forgot about this dress.”

“For which one of us?” Tyla asks.

Jackie turns around, holding up the back dress. It’s sparkly, a slit up the side, going just to your knees. It’s ruffled at the chest, thin spaghetti straps for the top. You can’t wear it. It’s too much, too revealing.

You look around the room.

Most of your siblings are wearing worse.

And you need to get your mind off her.

“I’m wearing that.”

Tyla squeals and Jackie lays it out on your bed.

You’ll forget about her tonight, you promise yourself.

—-

The bonfire burns high and bright, and even 20 feet away from it the feeling is burning. It’s so hot you’re glad you wore this barely there grass, it frees up your skin to touch the cool summer air.

You, Tyla and Jackie had gratefully taken a few too many sips of the alcohol someone had managed to sneak in and was now passing around.

Everything is so funny in the firelight.

Tyla’s tall heels keep sinking into the grass, and you keep giggling when your own do the same. You’re all holding onto each other, barely able to stand.

There was more nail polish fumes in the cabin than usual, and you’ll swear on your life that it gets to your head.

“Noooooo,” Tyla moans, sinking yet again into the grass. She gasps, pointing at the logs currently abandoned. “I’ll just walk on those!”

Your heels sink into the dirt.

“Me too,” you say, smiling as you grab Tyla’s hand and begin your ascent. Jackie ran off with an Apollo boy a minute ago, the first of your group to leave.

You grab onto each other, laughing boisterously as you keep almost falling.

“I-I can bare-barely stand!” you shout, giggling as you throw your arms to the sides.

“Me either!” Tyla shouts back. She jumps off, walking between the end of that one to the beginning of the next log.

“Hey, do you think I can jump and make it?”

Tyla judges the maybe 4 foot jump.

“I don’t know.”

“Well, I’m gonna try,” you giggle. “I’m gonna jump!”

“Whoooo!” Tyla shouts, laughing too. This entire night is just about you and your friends and laughter. She starts clapping. “Y/N, Y/N, Y/N, Y/N,”

You jump, eyes screwed shut, slamming into something mid air and being brought to the ground.

“Wh-” you mumble, and Tyla let’s out a gasp.

“Are you trying to kill yourself?” Clarisse scolds, her hands quickly falling from your waist.

And, of course, the first instinct of your intoxicated brain is to start screaming.

Clarisse grabs your arm and drags you off, past the light of the fire and into a space between the cabins. She slaps her hand over your mouth and you shut up.

“Are you going to stop being such a baby now?”

She lets go of your face and you immediately stumble forward so she has to catch you, pressing your finger into her chest.

“You, demon, are not my mother! So, I don’t know what you’re doing.”

She laughs, holding you up.

“Oh, you’re drunk.”

“Tipsy,” you correct. “As I was saying, don’t you remember, Clarisse, we will never be something to each other.” You push her away from you, heels sinking into the ground and keeping you upright.

Her face falls.

It’s so dark in here but you’re so close to her you can tell.

“Y/N, I-”

You can’t listen to her talk so softly. Being away from the heat of the fire clears up your brain.

“Where’s Tyla?” her hands fall from your hips. “Tyla?!” you dig you heels out of the mud, finding her sitting on the log, talking animatedly to Matty about something. “Oh,” you mumble.

They’re both so absorbed in each other they don’t hear you. And suddenly, you’re the last one left.

You head to a nearby table and chug a bottle of water, shoving a cupcake into your mouth.

“I’m not gonna be alone tonight,” you mumble to yourself. You look up at the almost full moon. You eyes scan the crowd. Xavier isn’t exactly bad looking, and you just need someone tonight. You need anything.

You don’t know where Clarisse is. You tell yourself you don’t care.

You move through the crowd, adjusting your hair, breathing in and out. You won’t be alone tonight. You won’t.

You spot him sitting off to the side with his friends, the group of them sharing a bottle just like you did.

“Xavier!” you shout. His eyes turn to you immediately. He shoves the bottle into his friends hands, standing up and walking over to you like it was his entire purpose to.

“Y/N,” he eyes you up and down. “You look- you look fucking hot.”

“Thank you. Now, dance with me.”

He follows you, his arm gripped in your hand, you can feel him staring at your ass and you don’t care, dragging him towards the music, towards the dance floor.

His hand is all over your ass, your thigh, your hips, drawing you closer to him as you spin and his other winds it’s way around your face.

He’s not her. You can’t bring yourself to feel guilty about imagining her hands on you.

You put your arms around his neck, dancing in a way that would probably make your mother blush.

When you open your eyes, they’re locked with hers.

She seems to have made her way back to her friends, sitting on a log, leaning against her arm and staring at you. Her hands are clenched the same way they were that day. You can see her, you can see her perfectly and she can see you perfectly. She can see you and him.

Good.

You smile at her, waving the way you would have done to Xavier, except now the roles are reversed. He gets to have you, and she has to watch.

His mouth finds your neck. You laugh, throwing your head back, you don’t imagine her lips there. You just sink into the moment.

When your lips crash against his, there’s nothing except hot, hot desire. Like a blue flame, you’re all teeth and tongue, clashing together in a way that is purely carnal.

His hands are everywhere and you love it. It’s like a game, trying to guess where he’ll go next, and it keeps you so wonderfully distracted.

He tugs at the slit of your dress. You pull away for air.

“N-not here. Not yet.”

His greedy hand remains where it is until you shove it down, laughing lightly.

“Maybe later,” you whisper.

“You’re so beautiful,” he mumbles into your neck. “Just let me…” he spins you two around, his hand slips under your dress, against your bare ass.

“Xavier-” you push at his greedy hand again.

“So, so beautiful, like you’re a witch-”

He’s ripped away from you.

You watch in horror as Clarisse grabs him by the front of his shirt and punches him square in the face.

You start screaming obscenities at the top of your lungs.

Xavier only seems to find it funny.

“You fuckin’ jealous, Clarisse?” he laughs. “Fuckin’ jealous, wonder if he’d be proud of you now, beating up his own son for a daughter of Aphrodite?”

She punches him again. Again.

“Fuckin’ jealous?” he says again, laughing, spitting out blood. “Are you fucking jealous?”

One of her siblings finally grabs her and pulls her away. She shoves them off of her.

“I’ll kill you,” she whispers to him. He doesn’t seem scared at all. You stand there and watch, stupidly, feeling like a bird from the skies watching it all unfold, unable to do anything. “Stay away from her. Stay the fuck away from her.”

She looks at you, you faintly realize the music’s stopped.

“Clarisse-”

“She’s not yours!” Xavier laughs from the ground. “The weak Aphrodite girl doesn’t belong to you, that’s gotta sting, Clarisse-”

A love spell only change’s one’s emotions towards a person. Their personalities are the same. They way they behave under a love spell is the same way they’d behave in a regular relationship, except with a lasting relentlessness.

“Shut up, Xavier!” you shout. You’re so sick of him. Sick of his bullshit. He can’t even make out with you without thinking about the next step.

You see it fade from his eyes.

It shouldn’t be.

You watch in horror as the spell falls, you realize this all wasn’t supposed to happen. You were never supposed to actually kiss him.

“Witch,” he mumbles. He was just moaning that against your cheek a minute ago.

He holds his hands to his already red face.

“You’re a fucking witch.”

Everyone is looking at you, for once in your life, you hate it.

“It wasn’t supposed to be like this,” you whisper.

Your eyes meet Clarisse’s. You can’t tell what’s on her face. You walk away.

—-

She finds you under the stars. Of course she does. You didn’t know where else to go. Cabin too stuffy. The lake is too far. The only place left is the woods, the spots where you would go with her.

She stands behind you. You can hear her breathing.

“Do you need something?” you mutter.

“I was selfish,” she starts.

You snort. Clarisse La Rue is a lot of things, you’ll be here all night.

“And I was hurt. So I took it out on you, which I really, really regret. You didn’t deserve that and it wasn’t true.”

It wasn’t true.

“Um, I was scared. So I made a decision for the both of us. But I’m not scared anymore.”

You place your hand on the grass next to you.

She sits, you don’t look at each other.

“That was all I had planned, but more has happened, so… uh, I was watching you the entire night, I guess. Not in a creepy way. I mean, you look, that dress… I couldn’t take my eyes away. Then you almost killed yourself on the logs.”

You smile.

“And I touched you again and I just, it was so much. Then you were on the dance floor, and he was all over you and- I was jealous. I was so jealous, like, I was actually about to go insane. And I saw you push his hand away, I saw him do it again, and I…”

“Went insane, berserk, crazy? Lost all proprietary?”

“Yeah,” she murmurs. “All of that. I’m not gonna apologize for punching the shit out of him. But I am sorry for the things I said.”

“Did you mean it?”

She just seems grateful you’re talking to her.

“Mean what?”

“That it wasn’t true.”

“It wasn’t true.”

You finally look at her. It feels so good to let go. To finally look at her, finally see her.

“I-I was just angry, and I-”

You’re sick of hearing her talk.

It’s nothing like the kiss with Xavier.

Its slow and sweet, heady like syrup, and you feel like you’re sinking beneath the current of some river. Your hands are on her face, she rests hers on your neck.

The kiss was Xavier was pure passion, no love, just bodies and bodies and no thoughts between them. This is all care, this is all slowness, this is all appreciation. It’s faces and faces, singular focus, one intent.

You pull away.

“I was so jealous,” she breathes, like it’s an explanation for the way she grabs you closer, harder, more, kissing you like Xavier did except it’s all erased. You can’t even remember what it feels like for someone else to touch you, let alone kiss you.

It just feels like her. It all feels like her, before her and after her.

When she finally starts to kiss down your neck, it’s so slow again, it’s like she can’t believe you’re in her arms, it’s like she can’t believe she’s got your hands on you. You grab her shoulders, you have her.

You look up towards the sky. Sorry I ever doubted you. Thanks, Mom.

You could see her across from you, you could see her on the dance floor, but now you can see her.

—-

y/n, talking to matty: yes i’m like about to slay amokinesis in a way it has never been slayed before

clarisse, who is NOT catching feelings: what the hell is this bitch doing to my girl

clarisse: ykw… im just gonna…. take her back thank you oh wdym no he’s looking we gotta fake date obvi (clarisse does not care if he’s looking)

—-

y/n, about to fucking die: i’m a bird! i’m jumping!

clarisse: no the fuck you’re not!

—-

clarisse when y/n is dancing in THE DRESS: oh i’m bricked up

—-

clarisse: if this bitch doesn’t get OFF my girl i’m gonna KILL SOMEONE

literally everyone: YOUR girl????

clarisse: nvm i’m just gonna fight him

everyone: not a logical solution???

—-

shoutout to jackie, tyla, and matty the loves of my life COULD NOT DO THIS WITHOUT THEM

also the tyla and matty agenda WILL be pushed

—-

taglist:

@lvrue @t-wylia @laughingcheese037 @kroumi @urdeadpoet @colezb @rey26 @harmzilla @elliewilliamsbae @amberfreemansburntface @kyuupidwrites @neverwaakeme-up @shark1008 @liballer @heyimadison

[generalsmemories]

Unwanted reunion

✧ jing yuan x gn!reader

✧ prompts: “catching the other one crying shortly after an argument and immediately feeling an overwhelming wave of guilt crash onto you.” + "it's okay, we can fix this..." + “playing with their hair until they fall asleep”|| 1k event

✧ contents: hurt/comfort, angst, established relationship, implied character death

✧ a/n: if u wonder how in the world i came up with the scenario below. i genuinely don't know either it's a mystery to even me. CREATIVE LIBERTY WINS AGAIN THE PROMPTS WERE LITERALLY INSPO AND NOT WRITTEN DIRECTLY INTO THE SCENARIO. also implied that this took place after the battle with phantylia so keep that in mind.

NOT BETA-READ AS USUAL FELLAS I WANTED TO HAND THIS OVER TO YA'LL ASAP AS AN APOLOGY FOR STARVING YOU ALL FOR SO LONG!! it's mild angst though, so sorry.

Jing Yuan's can feel a familiar heaviness weigh on his body as well as the feeling of someone wrapping a roll of gauze on his arm. However opening his eyes proved to be a challenge in itself and it's only with great struggle that he can manage to force them slightly open to the bright light.

The first thing he notices is the familiar ceiling of your shared home. A bit weird since whenever he did get injured he would immediately be rushed towards a private room by the Seat of Divine Foresight - which was the safest place for him to stay. Perhaps you had gotten your will again to take care of him - seeing as you're a high ranking healer yourself and quite a stubborn soul.

But his eyes still widen a tiny bit when he sees you sitting by the edge of the bed, one hand gripping his gauzed wound while your other hand is busy trying to find something to keep your hard work in place. You're humming a soft tune again, he never knows what sort of melody you're humming, only that it had become a habit for you after the amount of years you had spent by his side bandaging his battle wounds. Something about helping your mood and staying positive.

"Your recklessness knows no bounds, Jing Yuan." the sternness of your voice snaps him out of the daze he's in, immediately rising up from the bed only to groan in pain when the wounds that you had just wrapped up react to his body folding, "... And still don't know when to rest - even when I'm in the middle of treating you."

"...How much time has passed?" he asks, voice hoarse after having slept for who knows how long. You only hum, setting the bandages aside - the gesture causing Jing Yuan to follow your hand movements which makes him notice the bloodied bandages inside the trash by your legs.

"A couple of days, I was just finishing changing your bandages when you finally woke up. Here, some water." you inform, raising a glass towards his lips, patiently waiting for him to move closer.

You only start to speak again after he's taken several gulps, placing the cup of water back on the nightstand beside his bed. "Why are you so willing to throw your life away?" you ask after a moment of silence, helping Jing Yuan rest against the headboard, eyes never leaving his own that don't dare to even look into your own.

"It's my duty-"

"Your duty is to make sure as many of the Cloud Knights survive a battle. Not gamble your life on a piece that you weren't sure had the capabilities to help."

Jing Yuan bites his tongue at your immediate rebuttal, you were right after all. "The Master Diviner was right there by you. A troop was enough to guard the entrance, you didn't need to leave the master diviner with them to go on this-"

"... Can't you be happy for once whenever we meet like this?" he asks quietly, effectively stopped you from saying anything more. His gaze is cast downwards whenever he mutters the same question to you whilst shrinking a bit after asking. There's no sign of the proud general in your presence - in front of you is just Jing Yuan asking a supposedly harmless question.

Perhaps that's the reason why you can never shove him away immediately.

"... You know what my answer is."

Jing Yuan was no crier. In fact, you think he stopped crying or showing any visible sign of discomfort or uneasiness the day he got the title as General. You're pretty sure you can count the amount of times you've seen Jing Yuan cry on one hand.

Perhaps his ability to hide his own needs and wants so often day by day for the past centuries makes your dismissal of his simple wishes that more gut-wrenching for you. You try to ignore the overwhelming guilt that washes over you every time you have to say the same thing to him.

"... You have a lot of things that you want to get done on the Luofu, Jing Yuan." you murmur softly, extending a hand to run your fingers through his locks, breaking apart any knots that may have formed in his sleep.

"You know we can meet again, but now is not the time - especially now," you gently remind with a sombre smile, your hand moving from his hair to rest against his chin to make him face you.

"It's gonna be alright, okay?" he scoffs at your reassurance, finally coming to terms with your conditions once again like always, wrapping his arms around your waist to fall down back on the bed with you on top.

"Remember the last time you said those words to me?" he says, almost sounding offended at your choice of words to which you only smile against his skin in guilt.

"It was the first time I saw you cry so hard," you try to joke, pressing your hands against the mattress to push yourself off of Jing Yuan, choosing to hover above him instead.

"... I'm sorry," you decide to say in the end after a moment of silence, once again threading your fingers through his hair - an act you knew used to calm him before. At this moment though, you're not so sure.

"Why? Shouldn't I be sorry?" he asks in return, a small yawn leaving his lips as his eyes struggle to stay open. You smile bitterly as you shake your head, still threading your fingers through his hair.

"No, none of it was your fault - what happened back then was out of your control. But this time it isn't. I can wait for a long time, Jing Yuan. I know you're aware of that so don't try to rush anything to meet me again." you tell him, leaning down to press your lips against his forehead.

"So it's time to wake up, dear. Luofu is waiting for you."

[viperra1]

THEY TOOK BOONE.

The floor of his room in Lucky 38 was littered with bolts and screws, just waiting to be fixed into something more tangible. The Courier furrowed his brow, distracted by the frantic noises from the hall. Again. He had to hop through the trash to get to his door. "Hey, y'all, quick question – can a man have some fucking silence in his own damn house?" The noises stopped. Veronica looked at him, eyes wide and gaping from some sort of a mix between panic, pain and worry. "Six..." Ah. His guts felt like they were put in cold Siberian water. "No. Where's Boone? You were with him." The Courier paused, heartbeat quickening. He did not breathe. "He's still at McCarran?" Veronica could not utter another word. "Six..." The other people in the hall were quiet, standing around the corners, just... watching. Waiting, maybe. He did not know, and neither did he care. Finally, Gannon took the lead, laying a hand on devastated Veronica. He took a quick look at the back of her head. Injury? "McCarran was attacked by the Legion soldiers, Six. They... took captives. A captive." "...I see." Even though his palm now turned hot and sweaty, was still holding the door handle. He stood still, looking at every single person in this room – the people who's gone to battle with him, who took care of him, took care of each other and of the people that they all were oh, so tirelessly trying to save, day after day after day. The rage that he felt got nothing to do with them. He already has the crimson red look, so, well. With the level of burning, scorching, bloodlust rage he felt, this famous God damned Bull might as well be him right now. "Okay," he took a deep breath, exhale long and shuddering with anger. "Right... Get ready, folks. We're going to fucking war." He turned to Veronica, then. "You did good." If his smile was more murderous than thankful, well. His people would not hold a grudge.

details and grayscale!! i'm really proud of this piece :)

hewwo!! if any of you got to the end of the post – i am writing a fic with this courier oc x boone!! let me know if you'd be interested in reading it 🥺 i'm still too easily discouraged when in comes to writing, so support will be MUCH appreciated!!!!