#written for a prompt

[raethye]

Save My Love (Or Kill This Heart) by raethye

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Seokjin x Taehyung

Length: 61.8K, complete

Characters: Kim Seokjin | Jin, Kim Taehyung | V, Kim Namjoon | RM, Park Jimin (BTS), Jeon Jungkook, Jung Hoseok | J-Hope, Min Yoongi | Suga, Original Character(s)

Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Superheroes, Superpowers, Supervillains, Revenge, Memory Alteration, Secret Identity, Angst, Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, Light Bondage, Superpower Sex, Second Chances, Romance, Top Kim Seokjin | Jin, Bottom Kim Taehyung | V, Trauma, Blood and Violence, Major Character Injury, Justice, Sad Kim Taehyung | V, Aged-Up Character(s)

The new guy in apartment 1613 is loud. Not in the usual sense of blaring music or stomping feet or overenthusiastic workouts combining both, but nevertheless loud. A surge of secondhand loneliness slams into Seokjin. He's got half a bottle of whiskey to offer some ‘welcome to the neighborhood’ shots with, but no way to explain his pre-dawn presence.

How does one show up unannounced and tell a complete stranger that they seem sad?

The superheroes of Seoul are dealing with a high-profile thief. Seokjin is dealing with Taehyung, his mysterious new neighbor, who may or may not be stealing his heart.

FULL WORK (complete)

Chapter 01

Chapter 02

Chapter 03

Chapter 04

Chapter 05

Chapter 06

Chapter 07

Chapter 08

Chapter 09

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC Summoning Failed Successfully

Imagine a warehouse. Imagine a bunch of cultists in dark robes with all the candles, daggers, ancient books, and chanting. Now add Danny.

Only not as the summoned being, no. As a sacrifice.

He is sitting down, tied to a chair, in the middle of the summoning circle, looking as bored and deadpan as he can possibly be. The cultists are chanting, and he frowns, listening to their chants for a moment.

"Hey, is that Latin?" He questions, but to no avail, "You know you're not actually using those words correctly, right?"

"Keep quiet, child!" One of the cultists snaps. Danny leans back in his chair and shrugs.

"I'm just saying, you ain't summoning shit with wrong grammar," he huffs, seemingly absolutely nonchalant about the whole thing. Oracle, who is watching the whole ordeal through the surveillance cameras, raises her eyebrows. Red Robin and Robin are already en route to the building the cultists chose for their extracurricular activities, but now she almost wants to watch this a bit longer.

Gothamites are pretty used to all kinds of shitshows, but this boy is from out of town. She checked him through facial recognition. Daniel Fenton, a transfer student from Amity Park, Illinois.

A few more cultists stop chanting and turn to Danny.

"Do you know Latin?" One of them asks, and the boy makes a half-nod, making a thoughtful face.

"Not fluently, but, like, it's a dead language, I felt kinda obligated to learn it. Just for the meme, you know?" He chuckles.

The cultists, judging by their confused silence, don't know. Barbara doesn't know what he's talking about, either. But she is almost curious now, so she taps Robin's and RR's comm lines:

"RR, Robin, when you arrive, don't jump into the scene," she asks.

"Understood," Tim answers immediately, but Damian, of course, demands explanations:

"Is there an obstacle?"

"Not really," Barbara humms, "The sacrifice is in the process of de-escalating the situation."

She can almost hear the questioning silence over the comm, but, thankfully, no one argues. Meanwhile, one of the cultists pipes up, voice full of doubt:

"So, you can... like, proofread our incantation?"

"Yeah, sure," Danny nods, apparently fine with being sacrificed, "Who you're trying to summon anyway?"

"Satan," that same cultist answers, and Danny laughs approvingly.

"Classic," he nods and smiles, "I'll give you this. The circle is mostly alright, so you don't need an incantation to summon the fucker, I have him on speed dial." And with that, he leans forward, screaming towards the floor: "Ey, Satan!"

Barbara must say the act was actually convincing, but he went a little overboard with it now. She reaches to tell both Robins to get in, but suddenly, a loud, booming voice reverberates through the building.

"The fuck do you want, kid?"

Cultists fall to their knees - it doesn't seem like an act of worship, more like their knees bucking. The whole circle dimly lights up in red, smoke raising from it.

"Do you see this shit, Oracle?" Red Robin questions, and she mhm's at him, not sure what else to say. If this is still an act or a trick, she must say it's a very good one. Although somehow she suspects it's not a trick. She's seen enough magic in her life to tell the difference.

"Do you want to come to Earth, be gay and do crimes?" Danny asks, almost mockingly.

"Fuck off."

The red light flickers and disappears, and Danny looks back up to cultists, grinning cheerfully.

"Welp, looks like he doesn't wanna," the kid concludes and stands up from his chair. Barbara hadn't seen when or how he got out of his bindings.

The cultists just watch him walk out of the circle in bewilderment.

"Pursue?" Robin's voice comes over the comms, and Barbara thinks for a moment.

"I get a feeling like that's a bad idea," Tim mutters over his line.

Barbara agrees.

[ghostreblogging]

Ngl this is a short one.

So Danny comes to Gotham. Down on his luck. But lo and behold, he still has access to the kingly vaults! He doesn't have to worry about money!!! He can just buy a small apartment and live out his miserable little life In luxury!

But then he is stopped on a horrible and a dark stump in his plan. How in the 7 hells is he gonna explain it to the IRS ??????

Money laundering????

Can't he just say he found a mysterious big pile of gold and be done with it?

No, Danny . How are you gonna explain the fact that you keep finding mysterious little gold files to the tax man . Jazz says emphatically through a video call . Which is a multi dimensional cuz I can't explain why sam wont just give him the money. And btw the just assume that the vaults has a magic function to give the money to him in the local currency.

Sso from that day onwards Gotham had a new little cafe in a quiet little nook. The prices are super cheap. And it by far has the best fudge in all of Gotham. If you exclude Alfred's.

The gothamites love it. It's a favorite college hangout. Everyone is pretty sure the cafe is a front. Everyone is 100% sure of it. But in this economy who the hell cares. At least it's not nfts.

People can actually benefit from this because we can get like a whole breakfast for like 4 dollars ( an au where like Danny's 2000s world is like super cheap compared to the modern Gotham city and nobody taught the poor boy common prices of this world. Danny's thinking like how do I keep accidentally going into these rich people stores with their ridiculous prices, Ughh guess I'll have to buy this I don't want to go farther) and the quality is good too. The scrawny little twink owner sure as hell does not know much about ingredients prices or did the bare minimum study of business.

Anyway when the bats came sniffing (the scrunkly little guy was innocent blame Fenton luck) and we'll tried to interrogate the owner people actually chained themselves to the front like the worlds most confused save the trees activists.

[emptyjunior]

Enough random notes that have a written story on them as environmental storytelling, explore the space, get crazier with it.

You move into a house and aw cute, it has the kids height on the walls but you notice there's a three foot difference in height between measurements, you check the date, they're a month apart. The final measurement is on the ceiling. It's dated two days ago.

You're part of a recovery team that have finally found a stranded ship, they were found too late and have all passed a long time ago. They all died of starvation. You enter their storeroom, it's filled with food. In the dining hall you find the tables laden with perfectly fine looking breads, cakes, cured meats, jams, candies. Your medic says all the people sitting at the table didn't eat a Thing.

You wake up in an apocalypse. You can't find anyone at all as you wander the streets but you do hear faint music playing from somewhere. You stumble into a supermarket, to see all the aisles still full, except for the shelf that was full of ear plugs, which look to be the only thing that was looted.

Like there's light, sound, props. Having a street where every house is decimated except for One. Landing on a planet known for having No Water and a plant is growing and you don't know where it could have possibly gotten moisture from but you can't find the citizens Anywhere.

I'm sorry, I'm just kinda over the "graffiti on the wall to show the bad guy is around". That's not environmental storytelling that's just normal story. Show me I'm in the villains territory by the rain suddenly cutting out above me as I'm driving, even though it's meant to be raining all night. I park the car and step out, and realise the constellations are Wrong, until I see they're Not constellations, they're the blinking lights of a massive ship-

I Will stop now because everytime I go to write a sentence it devolves into another prompt but I'm just saying we have a Lot of senses, engage them, show me the Environment in environmental storytelling.

[starkeyvhs]

interruptions

PAIRING: nerd!rafe cameron x popular!reader

SUMMARY: you keep on interrupting rafe’s rambles with your kisses.

WORD COUNT: 565

WARNINGS: lots of kisses; fluffy mostly, just very slightly suggestive in between; usage of nicknames; rafe being kinda shy and flustered my baby :’)

EDITH SPEAKS: this fic is inspired by this fic by @xoxochb. it’s a percy jackson one, and if you are interested in that fandom i definitely recommend reading this fic and checking the rest of their stuff out!

and, thank you to @maddsxfall too who helped me write this fic :) I love u maddie! <3

I hope you all enjoy reading this! as always, reblogs and feedback are highly appreciated 🌌

masterlist / join my taglist / requests / moodboard and concept for my nerd!rafe x popular!reader fic

“The cosmos is made of isolated points – the stars, which are connected by invisible lines of influence, and similarly, our brains are also made of isolated points, in this case, the neurons, which are also connected by–”

Rafe’s ramble is cut off with your lips pressed on his, his eyes immediately shutting close at the reaction. 

“What was that?” He mumbles, eyes barely open as you pull back and look up at him, gently pushing his glasses above the bridge of his nose. 

“You just looked so cute rambling about whatever it was you were rambling about,” you laugh softly. 

His own lips lift up to a small smile as he softly shakes his head. “As I was saying, our neurons are also connected by invisible lines of influence and– mmph neurons create patterns of thoughts and memory while– mmh stars create– hmm patterns for navigation and storytelling,” Rafe looks at your grinning face, the way you feel so victorious about interrupting his ramble again and again with kisses. 

“What else?” You mumble softly, pressing your lips back to his in a firm kiss, allowing both of yourself to stay in your bubble for a moment or so before pulling back. 

“Uh, also uh…” Rafe clears his throat, a little flustered from your kisses, which you can visibly see from the pink flush beginning to color his cheeks. You giggle softly, watching how his glasses slide down his nose again and just decide to take them off, carefully keeping them to the side. 

“Mhm, go on,” I hum softly, giving him another small kiss. 

“There are 86 billion neurons in a human brain,” Rafe murmurs against your lips, and you kiss them softly again, “and when we zoom out enough– mmh the web of neurons looks a lot like–” A soft gasp leaves Rafe lips when you begin to trail your lips behind his ear, gently kissing the delicate skin there before trailing down to the side of his neck. 

“Yeah baby?” You mumble into his neck, your voice vibrating against his skin which sends a shiver down his spine. 

“looks a lot like… the cosmos, like the… galaxy clusters connected… with…” he lets out soft breaths between words, feeling his eyelids getting heavier. “dark matter…” he finally breathes out. 

You are pressing gentle kisses over the sensitive skin of his neck, soft shallow breaths leaving his lips as he feels a certain tingling sensation on his neck. 

“You’re so smart…” you mumble softly, kissing up to his sharp jawline and over his cheek before reaching his lips again, and pressing a soft kiss to them. “I love hearing you ramble,” you mumble against his lips, pulling back slightly and smiling at his flustered cheeks. 

“You… you do?” Rafe mumbles quietly, “it’s not boring?”

You shake your head with your smile still proud on your lips. “Never. Do it as much as you want to,” you murmur. 

“Did you know there were countless stars that were a part of ancient constellations, but they just dimmed or have gone supernova?” He blurts out, his voice quiet. 

You let out a soft chuckle and give him a soft peck on his lips. “Oh yeah?” You murmur, kissing his lips again. “Tell me more.” 

Rafe can feel his heart warming as you kiss him repetitively and ask him to tell you more. 

Oh here we go again.

⊹₊⋆.˚୨୧⋆.˚₊ ⊹

taglist: @oxpogues4lifexo / @inthelibrarybtw / @mileyraes / @chenslucy / @totalswag / @wearemadeofstardust0 / @percysley / @superswaggycooch / @khaisdrz / @weirdowithnobeardo / @chimchimjiminie16 / @ursovaine / @mariamadison6-blog / @snowtargaryen / @htlkira / @acidfeens / @r4fe-cam3ron

tagging a few moots: @runningfrom2am / @ilyrafe / @zyafics / @nemesyaaa / @ladyinbl00d / @jjsbank444 / @b1mb0slvt / @maddsxfall

[flamingpudding]

Little Snippets #1

"Father, please do not scare the children."

"FATHER?"

Alfred let out a sigh at the children's reaction as well as his own fathers sheepish laugh as the man scratched the back of his head. Once more he couldn't help but marvel at how young his own father looked. But then again the fact that his father was by now a timeless being and rule of an entire realm likely contributed to it. He glanced at the still shell shocked children and stoic Bruce, a part of him took a bit of pleasure in their shock.

"Master Bruce, may I introduce to you my father." Alfred hummed indicating to the floating man with blazing white hair and glowing green eyes in regal clothing, well aside from the damned jumpsuit his own mother had never refrained from complaining about.

"Daniel James Fenton." The butler continued eyes crinkling with a smile as he watched his charges. "Ruler of the Infinite Realms."

"Just Danny is fine. Honestly it must be your mothers influence with how formal you turned out Al..." The man, Danny added reaching a hand out to ruffle Alfred's hair that Alfred sidestepped. Not because he didn't like his fathers show of affection, no because he had appearance to uphold and he didn't need to shock the children any more than he already had.

"T-that must be a joke, right Alfie...?" Jason spoke up being the first one to regain his ability to speak coherently.

"I am afraid not Master Jason. This man is indeed my father." Alfred hummed amused, he would think that with their near daily dealings with villains, aliens, supernatural and other beings they would be less shocked. But as it seemed his family didn't seem able to warp their heads around this. Surely they must have suspected some sort of supernatural connection to him, after all how do they think he was able to keep the entire Manor as clean as it is? He had his pocketwatch from his grandfather as his secret weapon after all.

[yeoldenews]

A selection of strange and cryptic personal ads from The New York Herald, 1860s to 1890s. 14/?

[taco-rambles]

DC XDP prompt: Danny falls out of a portal literally into Batmans arms in a JL meeting.

Feel free to play with this. I probably will write more, but I'm STUCK and don't know how to write the JL or anyone else for that matter.

XXX

The Justice League meeting had gone very well. For once there were no major crisis from anyone attending, and all of the regular members of the league were in attendance. A few of the second row hero’s had begged off for one reason or another, but nothing that was a threat of any real kind.

Batman was wary, and on edge as the meeting wrapped up. It was never this simple, it just couldn’t be. There was always some kind of threat to keep an eye on, but the worst thing that had come up during the meeting were routine security updates.

No one else seemed to be on edge from the far too calm, routine meeting, and Bruce had just about convinced himself that it was really just one of those meetings where nothing outrageous would happen. It was ideal even…

Then the alarms went off, in the specific modulation that indicated a magical incursion.

Batman wasn’t the only one who’s hands went to weapons when the portal materialized above the meeting room table only a moment after the alarm went off. Swirling lazarus green had him ready for the fight even as the rest of the league went into defensive positions around the incursion.

“What…” Flash started to ask about a minute later when nothing had happened yet, the alarms still blaring.

That’s when something came flying out of the portal, at speed, back first.

Batman had a split second to decide to attack… or not. A split second to try to process the impressions and decide if this was an attack.

The portal closed as he cradled the small body that had crashed into his arms, the alarms silencing a moment later as the rest of the league tried to catch up, all of them wondering if this was some new threat.

Batman looked down at the child in his arms, a boy in his mid teens and small for his age, with white hair framing a frighteningly familiar looking face, gently pointed ears, and fangs in a mouth that gasped for breath against pain. The eyes were closed, twisted tight as the child clutched at his chest and belly, holding together severed flesh that leaked lazarus green blood from a clinical and too regular wound. Fingers tipped with small claws spasmed, tears coming from closed eyes.

“Batman?” Wonder Woman asked, Diana’s voice filled with concern as Bruce wrapped the child in his arms and stood up from where he had been knocked on his ass catching said child.

“Call down to medical. Severely wounded unknown,” he snapped, moving towards the door, only to stop as there was a flash of light in his arms, and the child suddenly gained a solid weight that was closer to human. The blood dripping from passed out hands was now brilliant red, fingertips blunt with chewed nails, the boy’s skin going from pale white to… a healthier tone.

Bruce consciously stopped cataloging his observations then, swiftly making his way to medical. Whatever this boy was, whether he intended to tug at Batman’s heart the way he was or not, was severely wounded and needed medical attention immediately.

He could process it all, and wonder why a child looking exactly like Damian Wayne had been thrown into his arms through a lazarus portal later.

XXXXX

An hour later, after a discreet call to his youngest just to be sure, Bruce watched the now sedated child in the medical cot, working on trying to face match the databases and find out if the child came from earth or not.

The searches primarily turned up Damian Wayne. Bruce knew for certain this child was not his son, but he was also running a DNA analysis because this Might be his son. It made a disheartening amount of sense for this boy to be another version of Damien, perhaps from another dimension, or some manner of clone, or perhaps Talia had simply hidden another child of his away… Bruce needed to narrow down the possibilities, to find the truth.

Of course, it was equally possible that this boy was some manner of mimic, taking on a form that would ensure his safety in unknown environment, a shape shifter intentionally injuring himself in order to infiltrate the Watchtower. Though that last theory didn’t make sense for a number of reasons. Most shape shifters would be secure enough in their abilities to simply try to mimic someone who already had access to the watch tower, to say nothing of the boy’s dramatic entrance.

Batman wasn’t thinking logically. Bruce couldn’t simply leave the boy here though. Not until he knew more, everything relevant by preference. The thought that this might be his son in any way was enough to keep him near, but he could already tell he was compromised.

He had already informed Diana and Clark, and both of them had agreed that he should stay nearby until they had the situation sorted out.

Bruce had been stuck in a circular though pattern for about fifteen minutes when a green form came into the room, J’onn looking at him calmly.

“Can you find anything out?” Batman asked without preamble, unable to bring himself to observe polite pleasantries when he was so unsettled.

“Nothing beyond surface thoughts. The boy’s mind is static and pain of the emotional kind,” J’onn stated after a moment.

Batman nodded, accepting the answer. J’onn’s abilities weren’t always the answer to everything, could indeed often be a crutch that led to the wrong answers. But they could also give the Justice League a starting point often enough.

“You should rest friend. It is unlikely that the boy will awaken soon…” J’onn cut himself off with a quiet look at the boy. “Or not. He’s coming around.”

Batman watched as the child’s eyes blinked open, drowsy expression turning to the two heros without much recognition. Bruce didn’t let himself react, kept himself in a calm pose even as his mind once more went into overdrive.

The boy had blue eyes, not green like Damian's.

[tizzydew]

Danny and the Justice League? Shenanigans ensue.

Phantom, High king of the infinite realms, Baby Ancient of Space and time, The upholder of balance, Bringer of peace and all that jazz had gotten bored out of his mind after only six months of fully assuming his kingly duties and as such he had maybe or maybe not done something Clockwork had warned him against and that maybe or maybe not have resulted in the creation of several baby worlds with their own timelines. Now the natural thing to do was pretend this didn't happen and erase it before he could get a lecture.. But the tiny humans on the tiny planet were all so cute and interesting. This was what led to the miniature planetarium he cherished so dearly.

Granted he didn't really think about how he would be perceived when he visited his mini planetarium, A being beyond comprehension staring down at his fleeting creature nigh impassively as he inspected it for any error. 

Constantine couldn't fathom the shit he was seeing.. Matter of fact the entire world was unsure of the phenomena that was occurring. At least from what they so far knew the deity was neutral with no actual interest in them, however as this deity seemed to be lingering about it fell on Justice dark once again to try to communicate with it. And so they sent offerings and a diplomatic message of peace. 

To Danny's credit, a thumbs up emoji seemed perfectly diplomatic.

[stealingyourbones]

The Anti Ecto Acts never actually cleared the House of Representatives, the bill was never passed. A Meta representative spotted the blatant loophole in Meta Protection Laws and brought that to attention.

The GIW were actually a group of ghost hunters hired by Vlad after their contracts with the government never went through.

Imagine the relief and horror that Danny felt being gently told by Superman, after helping the man with a fight and now trying to hide from the GIW before he’s found, that the Federal Anti-Ecto Control Act isn’t real.

[rafey-baby]

dealer!rafe can’t keep his promises and she can’t keep doing this...

c/w: mostly angst, yelling & arguing, rafe being kinda toxic, 18+ mdni!

wc: 1.5k

inspired by this ask

part one

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

Exhaustion weighs down Rafe’s shoulders when he finally clicks the front door shut; hoping his arrival won’t disturb his sweet angel he assumes is already buried safely under the covers and lost in some saccharine dream of hers.

However, when he kicks off his shoes and turns around, he notices her sleepy form standing in the hallway— clad in pajama bottoms and his favorite hoodie along with something akin to dissatisfaction flashing in her drowsy eyes.  

“Hey, baby. Did I wake you?” he asks as he pads over to her; greeting her with a gentle kiss on her cheekbone.  

“No, couldn’t really sleep. Was worried something happened cause you told me yesterday you were gonna be home in time for dinner,” the last part is drenched in accusation as she takes a step back.

“Shit, forgot to text you I wasn’t gonna make it, m’sorry,” his apologetic eyes flit over to her as he scratches at the back of his head.  

“Yeah. But then again, think I would’ve been more surprised if you actually had shown up when you promised,” her displeased tone is crystal clear and it forces a heavy sigh to leave his throat. 

“Okay, I know I haven’t been the best boyfriend recently, but there’s just been a lot of shit going on with the business and—”  

“It’s always gonna be about that with you, isn’t it? Like why would you even care about my feelings when you’ve got the fucking money and the drugs, right?” she nearly snaps; drained from the constant lies and excuses that make her feel like he’s never going to put her first.  

“What do you— what do you mean? Of course, I care about your feelings, why would you even say that? And you’re more important to me than all that other shit, okay?” there’s a furrow between his brows when he tries to comprehend what sort of a train this conversation is traveling on.  

“I mean, do you even know how anxious I get whenever you come home late? When you don’t answer my calls? I— sometimes I think you’re…dead, okay? Do you know how exhausting that is?” she says with her face contorted in frustration due to the endless nights she’s spent thinking the worst and wondering why he could never keep his word.  

“I’ve told you so many times that you don’t need to worry so much, nothing bad s’gonna happen,” he tries to reassure her but she merely shakes her head and rubs a hand over her face. 

“But I do, cause it’s not something I can just turn off. And all you do is make these promises that you never keep and I just…I don’t know if I can do this anymore,” her watery eyes stare up at him in despair, making him frown. 

“What are you talking about? You know I can take care of myself, I promise—” 

“But that’s the thing, I don’t trust your promises anymore! You say you’re gonna do one thing, but then you get a call from Barry or whoever and you’re gone. Sometimes, you come back days later and that entire time you barely even text me!” her distressed voice is loud when she begins to pace around the hall. 

“Hey, hey, c’mere, yeah?” he tries to placate her by pulling her flush against his chest for a hug that, despite her protests, she melts into. “Listen, I know my job isn’t always…ideal, but you— you knew that when we met, right?” he tries to reason along with a comforting squeeze to her waist.  

“I just— I guess I didn’t realize it was gonna be this hard. I’ve never dated someone whose job is illegal,” she mumbles into his shirt before reluctantly withdrawing from the solace of his arms to get her point across.  

“But when we started this, you also promised this wasn’t gonna affect my life. But wanna know what happened the other day when I was out with my friends? This creepy guy approached me and said he wanted his money, and if he wasn’t getting it soon, he was gonna find another payment method.”  

“What the fuck? Did he— he didn’t hurt you, right?” he halts his movements while awaiting her answer with bated breath.  

“No, but it was really fucking scary,” she mutters out as she recalls how shaken up by the whole scene she’d been. However, when she’d dialed Rafe’s number with trembling fingers, the call had merely went into voicemail since he was apparently too busy to answer, as always.  

“I swear he’s never gonna so much as look at you again, alright? You remember what he looked like?” he asks while tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, followed by his thumb petting at the apple of her cheek with his concerned eyes flickering over her face. 

“Um…dirty hair, crazy eyes and this scar on his lip?” it’s easy to describe the guy’s appearance when the picture is permanently burned to her memory.  

“That piece of shit— we already had an agreement on the fucking money. Why didn’t you tell me about this sooner?” a crease forms between his brows.

“Cause you’re never home!” she yells at him when her protracted emotional turmoil finally boils over the edge; saturating their entire relationship in the process.  

“I was home yesterday and I’m home right now!” he matches her volume while his fingers tug at the roots of his bleached hair.  

“Well, it’s not enough for me! And I just think that all of this is…too much, okay? I can’t— I can’t live like this anymore,” she admits with a forlorn tone.  

He pauses.

“What are you saying? You’re…you’re leaving me?” he narrows his eyes in disbelief.  

“I don’t know, I just— think I need some time,” she murmurs out.  

“Time for what?” he seems perplexed by the entire concept of what she’s suggesting. 

“To think! All I’ve been able to think about these days is whether you’re alive or not, whether you’re even gonna make it home! And I’m fucking tired of this, okay?”

It’s clear that she’s upset and that these thoughts have been bouncing around her skull for quite some time now. If this is her attempt at breaking up with him though, he’s not going to allow for that to happen.  

“No, no,” he shakes his head. “Listen, I understand where you’re coming from, but you can’t just leave…no, okay? We’ll figure this shit out, yeah?” he tries to decipher what’s going on inside that head of hers with his gaze glued to her face— as if it’ll magically reveal all the answers he’s in a hopeless search for.

“I just— I don’t know if that’s possible.”  

“No, don’t say that. We’ll get through this like we always have,” he’s determined to change her mind, but she merely lets out a weary exhale. 

“Rafe, you’re not listening to me.” 

“I am! You’re just not thinking clearly. Why don’t we, uh, go to bed and tomorrow when we’re both well-rested we can talk about this better and—” 

“I don’t wanna talk about this tomorrow!” she huffs out, frustrated, making his distraught face crumple up as he tries to decide which way to approach this in order to not upset her more than he already has.

“Listen, listen. I’ll, uh, I’ll be better, okay? I’ll work less and—” 

“You always say that but— but you’re never gonna change! And I thought I could handle this, but I can’t,” she sounds defeated; rueful eyes flitting away from his pleading ones when teardrops begin to trickle down; dampening the skin of her cheeks.  

“No, you can’t— you can’t leave me. I need you. I love you,” his frantic rambles pour down his tongue when he takes her face into his callused palms— her eyes momentarily closing in response to his tender touch.  

“Rafe…please don’t make this any harder than it already is.” 

“And you love me too, yeah?” he doesn’t pay her resistance any mind. She notices how his own eyes grow glossy as well, even if he tries to blink away the liquid yearning to leak.  

“Of course I do,” she hums out; nodding her head that’s squished between his paws— heavy droplets soaking his palms.

“Then that’s all that matters. We can make this work,” his tone is definitive. 

“I just— I don’t know if we can,” she sniffles. 

“Don’t say shit like that. We can, okay? I’ll call Barry right now and tell him I need some time off with my girl, yeah? And we’ll figure this shit out.”  

At that, she lets out a melancholic sigh— resting her forehead on his chest when he pulls her flush against him with a consoling grip on her waist. The warmth of his body feels familiar; feels like home, but she’s already made her decision.  

He holds her close until they both travel to dreamland with their limbs tangled together, the steady rhythm of their breathing creating a muffled melody in their bedroom.  

However, when the amber rays of sunlight tickle his cheeks in the following morning, and he turns around to face her; he finds nothing more than her side of the bed bleak and desolate.

The entire house void of the only good thing in his life.

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC When You Are Suddenly Dating a Princess (pt. 2)

[<- part 1]

"What do you mean-" Jason starts, but the girl is already tapping her ear briefly - and only now does he notice a tiny comm there. Fuck, he should have known.

"Oscar? I changed my mind, I want to claim something," Jazz says easily, and, after a short pause, "A Tecpatl, the one with the owl. No, it's for personal reasons- You don't have to, but alright." She taps her ear again, and Jason can't help but ask:

"Who's Oscar?" He is not jealous. He is just insanely curious and very confused.

"My bodyguard," Jazz rolls her eyes, "At least he thinks he is. I'd say he is more of a secretary."

That doesn't really explain anything. It actually just adds even more questions - what kind of a magic user needs a bodyguard? or a secretary, for that matter? - but Jason keeps them to himself for now. He is... kind of intrigued now. Jazz said 'claim', not 'buy'. Which might be just a weird word choice, but somehow, Jason thinks it was deliberate.

A bald, black-skinned guy in a black suit and sunglasses - which, seriously, how does he even see a thing in here with those on - makes his way through the crowd and stops in front of Jazz, nodding slightly to her.

"Lady Phantom, I understand you want to make an impression, but using your status for personal matters-"

"Did I ask for your opinion, Oscar?" Jazz's voice doesn't change. It's still pleasant and sweet, and she is still smiling, if just a bit, but there's an unmistakable steel edge to her tone now. Jason feels a light shiver run down his spine. He's seen Jazz in a lot of different situations and circumstances; he's seen her get mad at a librarian who banned some controversial books in the public library, and he's seen her skillfully take down an armed robbery in a shop all by herself, and he's even seen her successfully stare down Killer Croc on one occasion.

Yet, he's never seen her like this, with her chin raised up high and radiating authority like she is the most powerful person in the room.

Also, Lady Phantom?..

"No," Oscar admits after a pause and presses his lips together, "But the Council of Ancients will not be pleased."

"Council of Ancients couldn't care less even if I declared war," Jazz brushes the comment off, and Jason's levels of confusion are growing higher and higher with every word they exchange. Oscar sighs and finally complies:

"Very well, then," he breathes out with a sense of surrender, and then turns his head to Jason just slightly, "Is this an urgent matter, or should I go talk to the auctioneer and the sellers?"

Jazz looks to Jason, raising her eyebrows in question. And, technically, it's not that much of a time crunch now since Jason doesn't have to try and sneak through the security or wait for the auction to start officially. But he feels a bit petty. Also, this man was questioning his girlfriend, which is offensive on many levels in Jason's opinion.

So, he nods, "Urgent."

Oscar's face doesn't change one bit, but Jason has plenty of experience with emotionally inept men who look like they are eternally constipated. He can see the traces of exasperation in Oscar's shoulders.

"Follow me, then," he tells them both, and turns around, headed to the back of the auction rooms. There's security there, but Oscar only shows them some kind of a badge, and they step aside, letting the three of them through. As far as Jason knows, no FBI or CIA agents should have that kind of clearance.

Which finally prompts him to ask the most important question as soon as the doors behind them close and it's only them three going through an empty hallway.

"Who are you?" He asks Jazz, who is still keeping her hand on his elbow. The girl hums, not looking at him, and keeps walking after Oscar.

"Jasmine Fenton," she answers, and, yes, he knows that much. He's seen the files Bruce has on her, but at this point, he is not even sure how much of the info in there was actually true.

"You are in the presence of Jasmine Fenton, Lady of the House Phantom, Princess of Infinite Realms and sister to a King," Oscar supplies, and his voice is... a bit petty. Like he knows Jazz didn't want him to say anything, but he still did just because he could.

Jazz huffs and rolls her eyes, "Yes, that, too."

Jason blinks.

He's heard about Infinite Realms. Mostly rumors through the grapevine of Leaguers, but also from Diana personally - he remembers her saying she is glad about having a truce with them. He didn't listen much since she explained it as the Underworld, the Land of the Dead, so he thought she was talking about some mythology shit. Turns out it wasn't.

But there's a more important thing.

"I'm dating a princess," he says to no one in particular as they come to a stop in front of one of the doors.

"Technically, you'll be treated as my consort if you ever decide to visit," Jazz admits, and Jason is officially out of surprised responses. There's only a limited amount of bafflement he can feel in a day, and he has exhausted the resources.

He is a royal consort of the Underworld princess. Sure, why not.

The room they step into after Oscar puts in some code into the lock is filled with boxes, packages, and crates. Jason looks around - sure, he knew all the prettily displayed artifacts back in the auction room were only replicas, but he didn't expect the originals to be literally just stacked in piles in the back room. Yet, here they are.

Oscar looks around the room and confidently makes his way to one of the shelves on the side, quickly going through the labels on the containers.

"Do you have, like, a crown?" Jason asks because he sucks at small talk. Also because he doesn't know what else he is supposed to ask in this kind of situation. Jazz snorts and leans to him, resting her head on his shoulder.

"Not really. Danny has one, and it looks absolutely badass, with flames on top of it, like the ones you would see in cartoons. I have some tiaras and stuff, but they are just jewelry," she explains, and Jason nods sagely. Just jewelry, alright. Seems like he is simply destined to be surrounded by rich people from all sides.

"How about a castle?"

This gets a sigh out of Jazz, "We used Pariah's - that's the previous King - old one for the coronation ceremony, but mostly, it's just for storage. Both Danny and I live on Earth, and Dani, our little sister, travels a lot. So, I do, and I don't at the same time."

"What about-" Jason starts, but he is cut off by Oscar all but shoving a small box in his hands, "Oh. Do I-" he turns to his girlfriend awkwardly, "Do I have to pay you for it or..."

"No, it's from a dead civilization," she raises her head back and shakes it slightly, but after seeing Jason's frown, she elaborates, "I'm the Princess of the Dead. I can officially claim anything that belongs to the dead as mine."

"It's a law that is supposed to resolve any possible conflicts between the denizens of Infinite Realms and the living," Oscar supplies, his voice disapproving. Alright, makes sense why he said it was not for personal matters, then. Not that it's going to stop Jason, though.

"Like, anything?" He punctuates, and Jazz tilts her head, a sly smile on her lips.

"Sure."

"Lady Phantom," Oscar sighs, tired and chastising, but Jason doesn't plan on robbing the auction. At least not robbing it any more than they already did.

He has a different idea.

"Can you ask Batman for the Robin's suit he has in his cave?"

Jazz blinks, and then her smile turns into a full-on grin.

"Of course."

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

@akuworld777

[jesncin]

I'm officially a part of DC Gotcha for Gaza fan initiative!

Us and a ton of other DC fan artists and writers will be creating art of your choosing if you donate to a verified Palestinian GoFundMe or purchase an Esim! Fill out this form once you've donated with proof to request some sick DC art~ This'll be going until August 18th!

Might I recommend Bilal's family fundraiser? He and I have chatted back and forth in the DMs and his fundraiser has been vetted. He's got a time limit to reach his goal by the 15th, let's help him get there!

[thediazes]

from the wings

for @nymika-arts <3

Buck tells Maddie that he isn’t in love with Eddie, and she—well, she tries to believe him.

She does. A valiant effort, truly. It’s just that Maddie learned how to read her little brother before he even learned to read the alphabet, and she can tell when he’s not being entirely truthful. To her, or to himself. Like when he was five years old and he’d run inside from the street, bike abandoned on the front lawn, with scraped knees and two holes in his brand new jeans to match, and insist that it wasn’t his fault. “I wasn’t going too fast, Maddie,” he’d say. “My– My bike went over a rock.” Tearful eyes pointed towards the floor. Hands always fidgeting.

Kind of like he’s doing now.

He’s fiddling with the paper napkin his cutlery came rolled in, making tiny rips around the edges. It’s become more and more frayed as their lunch date has progressed, and Buck’s gaze is glued to it as he talks.

“It’s not that I don’t like Ravi,” he says, frowning when he rips a bit too far. “I do. He’s great. I’m just…not used to having to explain what I’m about to do before I do it, y’know?”

Maddie hums. “It’ll take some getting used to.”

“I know,” Buck sighs. “It’s just weird.”

“It’s natural to miss Eddie,” she says. Carefully. Neutrally. “You guys worked side-by-side for a long time.”

“I don’t–” His eyes flick up to meet hers for the first time in five minutes, narrowing—as if they’re playing some kind of game, and he’ll be damned if he’s about to play right into her hand (Maddie’s fairly sure all she did was make a simple comment). “I mean, of course I miss him. He’s my best friend. But it’s not like I’ve never worked with anyone else before.”

“Exactly. You and Ravi will find that wordless communication in no time.”

Eyes back to the napkin. “Right.” Rip. “Anyway, how are you? Still feeling…cooped-up?

Maddie sighs. “Yeah, but…not as bad. I’ve been going on walks. Plus, now that Jee’s home for the break, she’s keeping me busy.”

He grins. “That’s what I like to hear.”

It’s then that his phone, face down on the table, chimes with a notification. When he picks it up, his smile grows impossibly wider, in an involuntary, reflexive sort of way that almost makes Maddie feel like an intruder for looking. “Who is it?” she prompts, and Buck quickly schools his face when he looks at her, like he’d been caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to.

“It’s, uh– It’s Eddie.” He flips the phone around to show her, and on it is a picture of Christopher, in front of him a chess board with far fewer black pieces on it than white. “Chris is teaching him how to play, and he keeps losing. Badly.”

Maddie laughs. “Sounds like he needs a better teacher.”

“Eh, Eddie was pretty hopeless to begin with.”

He glances back down at his phone, eyes twinkling as he types out a response, and Maddie can’t help but think that her stubbornly resistant little brother is the hopeless one—navigating his new reality with his eyes closed; carrying a torch behind his back for a man who now lives eight hundred miles away.

She sighs.

Buck puts his phone down and changes the subject.

* * *

He picks up on the fifth ring, voice sounding tinny and a bit far away. “Hey, Mads, sorry—you’re on speakerphone. Need my hands free to chop veggies.” She hears the faint sound of a drawer opening and closing as he talks; the clattering of some utensil against the countertop.

“Ooh,” she says, “Whatcha making?”

“Soup,” Buck says brightly, “with chicken, peppers, zucchini—all kinds of stuff. Eddie sent me the recipe.”

Maddie smiles. Chim, sitting next to her, raises his eyebrows and smiles too. “Oh?” she prompts.

“Yeah–” His knife hits the cutting board, again, again, again. Chop-chop-chop. “–he found it in a drawer at his abuela��s house. One of her secret recipes, apparently. He thought I’d like to try it.”

“Her secret recipe,” Maddie repeats.

“Yep.”

“And he just…sent it to you?”

“Yeah?” And then, like he’s just realized what she’s getting at— “it’s not like she minds. She’s given me all kinds of recipes.”

“Right,” Maddie says. She glances to the side at Chimney, and her husband is just sitting there, grinning into his palm and shaking his head in a sort of resigned bewilderment. Tell me about it, his eyes say, as if this kind of familial domesticity has played out in front of him a million times over—because it honestly, probably, has. “I didn’t even know you liked soup,” she continues. Plenty of memories of her brother turning his nose up at it through the years.

“Yeah, well, I’m trying new things–” CHOP. “–in my brand new kitchen.”

Chimney snorts. “Right. Brand new,” he chimes in. “Having trouble finding anything?”

In the split second pause on the other end of the line, Maddie can tell Buck is rolling his eyes. “I’m glaring at you, Chim,” he says. “You can’t see me, but I’m glaring at you.”

Her husband just grins.

“Anyway, what’s up? Did you guys need something?”

“Yes, my wonderful brother-in-law who I have never made fun of, ever in my life—” Chim starts. Maddie’s sure Buck is rolling his eyes again. “Wanna spend tomorrow night with your adorable niece?”

Buck sighs, but he’s smiling. She can hear it. “You know I can never say no to that.”

“Great!” Maddie says. “I’ll drop her off at six. Let us know how that soup turns out.”

“I’ll send pictures. Eddie made me promise to take some so he could show his abuela.”

Chimney shakes his head, grinning. “Of course he did.”

“Goodbye.”

* * *

The firehouse is quiet when Maddie walks through the doors. She’d expected it to be a bit more hectic, really, given the time of morning, but things just seem settled. Comfortable. Yet to be disturbed by LA’s 8am traffic rush.

She hears the people she’s looking for before she sees them, their murmured chatter drifting down from the loft, and as she reaches the top of the stairs, she finds them gathered around the kitchen island, all clutching cups of coffee. She can’t help but smile at the tired, droopy expressions on each of their faces. Clearly the caffeine hasn’t kicked in yet.

“Hi,” she calls out, stepping into the space, greeted by turning heads and a few bleary-eyed smiles in return. Her husband’s face brightens immediately—before he’s even noticed the big pink box in her hands. “Thought you guys might be in need of some fuel this morning.”

Chim rises from his seat for a quick kiss on the lips. “Just what the doctor ordered,” he says with a grin, taking the collection of pastries from her hands and setting it down on the counter.

“You’re too good to us, Maddie,” Hen says.

Bobby smiles. “Thank you so much, Maddie. You didn’t have to do this.”

She waves him off. “Believe me, I’m going stir-crazy in the house all on my own. This was just an excuse to get out and do something.”

They all chuckle, and Chimney raises the lid on the box for everyone to take their pick.

Well—almost everyone.

“Where’s Buck?”

Hen makes a noise in response. Swallows a mouthful of croissant, and answers, “Downstairs. Eddie called.”

And when she glances over the balcony towards the floor, she sees him—tucked against one of the trucks in the far corner with his phone in one hand, pressed to his ear, and gesturing wildly with the other, despite the fact that his recipient can’t see him.

What strikes her, though, is his smile. God, it’s blinding. Grinning from ear to ear like he’s won the damn lottery, just because he gets to hear his best friend’s voice on the other end of the line. Radiant, comfortable; so soft around the edges that Maddie worries some part of him will spill over onto the concrete floor—all from a conversation that, if she's overhearing it correctly, seems to be about Christopher’s room-cleaning habits. And when he laughs, it’s a sound so genuine that she gets the sudden urge to jump into her car, drive to El Paso, and bring the Diazes back to Los Angeles herself.

Maddie’s much more used to the restless, ever-anxious version of her little brother. She doesn’t often see him looking so comfortable in his own skin. She finds herself wishing there was something, anything she could do to keep him there.

Some part of that train of thought must show on her face, because when she glances back, Bobby catches her eye and smiles, softly. A little sadly. Like he wishes he had the power to do the same.

Maddie just shakes her head and grabs a croissant from the box. Tries not to notice how familiar Buck seems to be with the tendency his best friend’s son has to leave too many glasses of water on his bedside table.

* * *

Maddie lets herself into Buck’s house three weeks later and is met with an empty living room. It’s impeccably clean; carefully organized. Furniture she recognizes from his loft placed at perfectly opposing angles—a vase of fake flowers placed right in the centre of the coffee table. The late afternoon sun streams in through the front window, but it doesn’t seem to quite reach the edges of the room.

She toes off her shoes in the entryway and heads down the hall in search of her brother. Nowhere to be found in the kitchen (a noticeably bigger space without the table that once inhabited it), but instead, found leaning in the doorway of the empty second bedroom, as if he’d been standing there staring at it for god knows how long before she got here.

There’s nothing in the room. Nothing really to look at, other than the small window on the opposite wall with the curtains drawn.

“What do you think you’re gonna do with it?” she asks, now at his elbow, and he doesn’t startle. So he heard her come in after all.

“I dunno,” he says. “Might just leave it like this.”

“Empty?”

Buck shrugs, plastering on a smile. “Don’t know what else I’d do with it. It’s not like I need an office.” He huffs out a breath, like he can’t quite commit to a real laugh, and Maddie just looks at him—really looks, at the tightness in his shoulders; the way that smile doesn’t reach his eyes, and the bags that seem to live beneath them instead. For a split second, she wants to haul him out of here and back to her house where he can sleep until his world is right side up again.

Instead, she suggests, “You could make it into a guest bedroom.”

Buck wrinkles his nose. Takes a breath and cracks another smile, but his energy for excuses seems to run out before the words have even left his mouth, and he deflates. “I don’t think I want anyone else sleeping in here.”

It’s the first bit of true honesty that she’s gotten from him in weeks, but it doesn’t exactly make her feel better.

“I just…I didn’t think it would be this–” He chews the inside of his cheek, looking down at his hands, and Maddie expects him to say weird, but instead, he says, “hard. Living here. Without them.”

Maddie sighs, wrapping her arms around one of his. “I know. But you know, filling the space might make it feel a bit smaller.”

Buck nods, still staring at the lone window. “Yeah. But I— I think I’ll leave it like this. For now.”

And Maddie contemplates shaking some sense into him; going on a shopping spree at IKEA and forcing this place into something a little less haunting herself. But they’d still be standing here, in Eddie’s house, cooking dinner in Eddie’s kitchen, eating it in Eddie’s dining room. Buck will still go to sleep in Eddie’s bedroom tonight—and she decides that rebuilding his own life is something Buck will have to take on himself.

So she simply says, “Okay,” and lets Buck pull the bedroom door shut. Allows him to move into the living room, and change the subject to whether they should have chicken or pasta for dinner.

* * *

Maddie pulls into her own driveway three days later and finds her brother on the front stoop—shoulders hunched, eyes glued to his feet. She slams the car door shut and plants herself in front of him, waiting for his eyes to meet hers.

“You okay?” she asks, when they finally do.

He looks at her, face open and honest and pleading for answers—an expression she’s seen countless times, since before he knew how to tie his shoes—and says, “I think I’m an idiot.”

And Maddie knows, immediately, what he means, because she’s been watching him inch towards realization since he came to her the first time, mixed up and messy and appalled at the mere thought of the truth.

“Yeah, I think you have been, a little. But you know, it’s never too late to be honest.”

Buck laughs; dry, humourless. “He lives halfway across the country, Mads.”

“I don’t mean with him,” she stresses. “I mean with yourself.”

Buck swallows. “Right. I’m not sure that’ll make me feel any better.”

“Maybe not,” Maddie says, lowering herself down to sit next to him on the concrete stoop, “but it’s probably better than pretending it’s not there.”

He sighs, and she smiles, laying her head gently on his shoulder. He’s quiet, contemplative for a moment, before he settles on, “Probably.”

Maddie just takes his hand and squeezes.

* * *

Buck is wearing a sweater that Maddie has never seen before. Knitted, dark blue yarn, a little tight around the shoulders. It pulls up above his wrist when he moves his arm, reaching forward to gesture at Chimney across the dinner table in the midst of a heated debate that Maddie has purposefully not been paying much attention to.

“The second one was way better!” Buck is insisting, while Chim gapes at him, appalled.

“I’m sorry, you’re telling me Top Gun: Maverick is better than the original?”

“Yes! The stunts were so much cooler.”

“It was never about the stunts, Buck–”

Their attention is drawn from the (clearly earth-shattering) dilemma at hand when a pair of headlights sweeps over the dimly-lit room through the front windows—a car pulling into the driveway. Maddie frowns.

“Are you expecting someone else?” she asks, and Buck shakes his head, brows knitted.

“Uh– no. No, just you guys,” he says. He stands, then, moving away from the table—still littered with dishes from their dinner and dessert—and into the dark living room to get a look at their mystery guest. When he reaches the window, his whole body freezes, like some frigid ocean wave has just crashed over him, swallowing the room and its perfectly placed contents whole.

“Buck?” Maddie prompts, though she has a feeling, as she watches his wide eyes track whatever scene is unfolding on his driveway, that she knows exactly who it is. That someone has just come home.

In lieu of an answer, Buck rushes to the door, throwing it open, and behind it is—Christopher. A bit taller than when she last saw him; his hair a bit shorter, but still, unmistakably, Christopher Diaz. Even simply from how Buck’s face lights up in a way that Maddie hasn’t seen since he left.

“Hey, Buck,” he says, grinning. Then, a beat later, “Is that my Dad’s sweater?”

And Buck just laughs, smiling ear-to-ear, and lets out a breath that Maddie suspects he’s been holding in for months.

* * *

Three weeks later, the house is warm. Comfortable. The air smells like home-cooked food and the scent of whatever candle Buck had lit when the sun went down and the overhead lights felt too intrusive. Scattered all over the coffee table are plates holding the remnants of the cake that had, before it was sliced into, read: ‘Welcome back pardners, yeehaw!’, along with half-finished glasses of water and wine.

By far the most eye-catching thing in the room, though—at least to Maddie—is her brother. Radiantly happy, shining like a disco ball as he laughs at something Hen just said, leaning back in the chair that he’s tucked in close next to Eddie’s. He looks…settled, finally. Even as he keeps sneaking glances at his best friend like he can’t quite believe he’s actually here.

It’s a relief, to see him like this, Maddie can admit. To be reminded—after months of confusion, denial, indecision—that sometimes, her brother is simply content. Loved, and aware that he is loved. That his life isn’t simply a timeline of difficult moments with a few smiles thrown in in between.

She smiles. Tries to commit the image to memory.

At some point, after getting caught up in conversation with Athena about the latest novel she’s been reading (something about beach houses and family scandals), she looks back to find that people have scattered—her husband at the dining table, sneaking another slice of cake to their daughter; Christopher, Denny, and Mara huddled over a Nintendo Switch in the corner; Bobby and Hen laughing about something over by the window.

Buck, nowhere to be found.

She excuses herself, following to where she expects him to be—likely already trying to load dishes into the dishwasher despite the fact that the party is only half-over—but pauses in the doorway when she hears his voice already in conversation with someone else.

“You didn’t have to do all this,” Eddie says, quietly. Fondly.

“All what?”

“This. The party, the cake. I was only gone for a couple of months, you know.”

“Well, I can’t take credit for the cake. That was all Hen,” Buck says. “But…we missed you.” Then, more earnestly, “I missed you.”

Eddie hums. Pauses, then says, “I missed you too.”

They fall quiet, and Maddie is about to step into the room to make herself known—the guilt of eavesdropping creeping in—but when she puts one foot forward, she catches a glimpse around the corner; the two of them wrapped up in each other, Eddie leaning in to press a kiss to Buck’s lips. Easily, like he’s done it before.

“I love you,” he says. Soft. Meant only for Buck.

Buck grins—that same blinding, lottery-winning smile Maddie caught him wearing weeks ago—and says, simply, “I love you too.”

And as Maddie backs out of the room, finding a seat at the dining table beside her husband and daughter, she can tell she’s grinning too. If only because of the way Chimney looks at her, eyebrows raised, and asks, “What? Something funny?”

She shakes her head. “No,” she says, “Just glad everyone is back where they belong.”

[starkeyvhs]

unhook

PAIRING: nerd!rafe cameron x nerd!fem!reader

SUMMARY: it’s rafe’s first sleepover with his first girlfriend – who is equally shy as him – but she needs help with unhooking her bra.

WORD COUNT: 1.7k

WARNINGS: shy rafe & reader; she/her pronouns used for reader; slightly suggestive (?) but it’s soft and fluffy 🫶

EDITH SPEAKS: we don’t just have nerd rafe now, we now have nerd reader too 🥰 I loveddddd writing the two of them, just a couple of soft and shy teenagers who like each other so much but are just so anxious 🥹 I have a cool idea on the background lore of this pairing and hopefully I’ll be able to write their full fic one day 🫶 anyways! if you enjoy reading, please reblog and share any feedback you may have 💞💞 also, my inbox is open to discuss all kinds of thoughts && hcs!!! xx

masterlist / join my taglist / requests

Rafe Cameron was an expert at a lot of things: physics, maths, programming, robotics, chemistry, but there was one thing no book could ever teach him. 

And it was how to act around girls. 

Throughout his life, he thought keeping a safe distance from girls was best for him; relationships and everything else would come to him when the time is right. 

But he definitely didn’t think that time would come this soon – in high school. 

He was best known for his concentration, and how he could sit still and study for hours on end, not giving up until he was done learning what he wanted to. But this one girl, she was becoming a distraction. He couldn’t stop thinking about her. It was as if he could see her name hidden between the words of the book he was reading, tucked safely as a sweet memory of this new person who had just waltzed into his life. 

And somehow, the one thing that made all of this sweeter was that the girl – you – was also just like him. Just as inexperienced, just as nervous, and, he didn’t realise it, but also just as adorable as him. 

It was hard for Rafe to get his mind off someone who had so many common interests as him. You loved science and technology just as much as he did, and you both were somehow just always on the same wavelength with almost everything you talked about. 

Now, fast forwarding past the awkward talking stage (well, what’s to say it sometimes still isn’t awkward), Rafe finally bagged you, yes, that’s right, Rafe Cameron got a girlfriend. 

And a damn intelligent one at that. 

So, after everything, he has you invited over to his place for your first ever sleepover. The nerves are even more than usual, but he’s trying his best to make this work, just for the two of you. 

Starting from when you arrive till the dinner with his family, everything is super smooth. You both talk a bit, and Rafe can feel the nervousness between you two is beginning to die, to create something that’s more comforting and warm instead. 

But, all the effort he puts to make everything light hearted comes crashing down when he realises nighttime is nearing closer and closer. Meaning, the time to share a bed is getting closer. He makes the offer of his own clothes for your nightwear, which he’s super happy you accept. 

He’s sitting on the edge of his bed, his fingers fiddling nervously with the hem of his own shirt as he waits for you to finish changing and freshening up in the washroom. He can feel his mind go absolute berserk, an infinite number of thoughts looping themselves in his head and playing like a broken record. He’s attempting to get his mind off these thoughts, oh he is trying so hard, but he just can’t.

Rafe nervously looks up at the clock hanging on his wall and realises a little too much time has passed since you went to the washroom. It concerns him a tiny fraction, but he attempts to relax that thought by telling himself you must genuinely take time in the washroom to freshen up. 

But then he hears your voice calling out your name – oh how he loves the way his name sounds so sweet on your lips, but more on that later – and it seems as if you’re a little uneasy. 

“Yeah?” He asks, and his voice automatically takes that softness that somehow only comes up when he’s talking to you. He gets up from his bed and makes his way to the closed washroom door, gently pressing an ear to it. “Everything alright?”

A long moment of silence passes and Rafe doesn’t hear anything from across the door, which almost tempts him to call out to you again, but your voice finally crosses the wood. 

“I uh… I need help,” Your voice is already muffled due to the hardwood barrier between you two, but the obvious timidness in your tone makes it even more difficult for Rafe to catch your words. 

“Yeah yeah, what is it, sweets?” He says softly, the nickname rolling off almost effortlessly. Whoa, where did that confidence come from? Again, a topic reserved for a much later conversation. 

Another long moment of silence passes, and Rafe can now sense the anxiousness through the door, understanding that whatever it is, it’s making you feel more shy than usual. 

“My, my bra hook’s stuck… I need help with it,” Somehow, your voice has gotten even quieter. 

Now it’s Rafe’s turn to get quiet. 

It takes time for your words, and their implication, to settle in him. His limbs feel permanently tethered to the ground below him by a strong force, and that nothing can make him budge. But he soon realises that force is entirely superficial and it’s his own nerves keeping him fixed. 

Fighting the strong nerves he musters the courage to speak up again. “You, you need my help?” He asks. 

“Yes please,” comes your reply and he hears a heavy exhale escaping you along with your words, as if you’re letting go of the heavy weight of having to tell him what your current situation is. 

But god, Rafe doesn’t have a single clue how he’s going to react on what’s bound to happen next. 

He hears you unlock the door from inside, and he wraps his fingers around the doorknob, slowly twisting it to open the door. 

You’re standing in the center of the washroom, your back towards the door. He can see you’ve changed into his old shorts he gave you, but the t-shirt is sitting on the counter and you’re standing in just your bra. When you hear the door creak open, you turn to look over your shoulder and meet Rafe’s eyes. 

The moment you see him, you shy your gaze away from him. “Uh, it’s stuck real bad…” you mumble quietly. 

“Oh uh, I’ll… I’ll have a look,” Rafe mutters, moving closer to you so there’s barely any space between you two. He can feel the warmth of your back against his chest and it seems so inviting and soft. 

His heart begins to thump loud in his chest, and the deep curtain of silence that envelopes you two makes it even more loud to his ears. 

Rafe swallows the lump in his throat and lifts his hand up. He brings his fingers close to your back so that the fingertips are almost hovering over the inviting skin. 

Do it, Rafe, do it. You’re here to help her, that’s it.

Subconsciously nodding to himself, Rafe lets his fingertips gently press over your back and oh my god your skin is so damn soft. The situation is making heat rush to his face, and he just knows his cheeks are tinted with a champagne pink which is very hard to miss.

He can hear the hitch in your breath the moment his fingers touch your skin, as if the small contact is spreading an electric current throughout your body. Rafe lets his fingers linger over the bra hook, and he brings his other hand up too, attempting to sort the stuck hook out. 

“It’s a little stuck…” he murmurs under his breath as he has his way with the hook, but also makes sure none of his movements are too harsh that it hurts you in any way. 

“That bad?” You ask meekly, glancing at Rafe over your shoulder. He catches the look of sheepishness on your face, knowing how awkward you might be feeling in this situation. 

“I just need a minute, yeah?” He tells you softly, and allows himself to be a little bold, letting his hand drift over your shoulder and squeeze it softly. As much as his heart is beating fast in his chest and his fingers are itching to feel the expanse of your soft flesh, he also knows he should be a little confident because that’ll help you feel a little more comfortable. 

His actions do the expected, your tense shoulders relax a bit and you nod to let him continue. Rafe brings his hands back to the hook and lets out a deep breath. Okay, lets just look at this carefully. He takes a moment to inspect exactly how the hook is stuck, and then, carefully, he lets his fingers work through the stuck hook. 

It takes a long moment, both him and you standing in the quiet space of the bathroom with bated breaths, but finally, Rafe pops open the hook. That is the moment when your body gets fully relaxed, and he understands how relieving it must be for you to not have a tight constraint around your chest anymore. 

He can’t convince himself to bring his hands back down to his sides, his palms now fully resting on your back above your shoulder blades. You stand there, keeping a hand over the bra to keep yourself covered. 

“Are you feeling better?” He asks softly, feeling a little more bold as his fingertips begin to trail over your back, tracing over the length of your spine till your tailbone and coming back up right at the nape of your neck with a touch so slow and gentle. 

“Yeah…” you murmur, “thank you so much, Rafe,” 

Rafe can’t help the small smile that pulls his lips at your words. He leans down to press a soft kiss to your shoulder, letting his lips linger against your skin for a moment. “You’re welcome,” he mumbles softly into your skin, before pulling back. 

He clears his throat and reluctantly gets his hands off you, taking a step back towards the door. “I’ll uh, I’ll let you change yeah?” He says softly and watches you nod, but this time you don’t turn to look at him. He makes his way out of the washroom and steps out, closing the door behind him and resting his head back against the hardwood. 

He closes his eyes, letting out soft puffs of air through his exhales as his mind plays back the last few moments: his fingers on your skin, soaking up its velvety feel. 

He doesn’t know where he got the wave of confidence from which allowed him to touch you that beautifully, but somewhere, he’s glad he got it, because now, he absolutely can’t even think of anything else besides you, your supple skin, and how he might ultimately get to feel more than just your back under his hands. 

Well, this only makes him ecstatic about the impending sleepover. 

⊹₊⋆.˚୨୧⋆.˚₊ ⊹

taglist: @oxpogues4lifexo / @inthelibrarybtw / @mccaffreyswifey / @chenslucy / @totalswag / @wearemadeofstardust0 / @percysley / @superswaggycooch / @kaileashiftz / @weirdowithnobeardo / @chimchimjiminie16 / @ursovaine / @mariamadison6-blog / @snowtargaryen / @htlkira / @hrtshapedblg / @cherrys-muses / @mattyskies

specific tags for this fic: @maybejj / @appleciderlove / @starkeyszn

tagging a few moots: @runningfrom2am / @ilyrafe / @zyafics / @nemesyaaa / @ladyinbl00d / @jjsbank444 / @b1mb0slvt / @maddsxfall / @congratsloserr

[stars-obsession-pit]

Somehow the whole “baby ghost” thing gets out about Phantom, and suddenly tons of people are trying to treat him like a little kid.

And Danny fucking hates it.

He’s a teenager! As far as he’s concerned, that means he’s basically almost an adult!

If people don’t stop looking down on him and denying his autonomy, he might just end up killing someone. Maybe then they’d finally fucking listen.