#it gets more angstier if both of them know how the other feels

[cathalbravecog]

Man... I can't stop thinking about the things that were talked about on the stream, especially the answer on my question - so... get ready for a ramble! its a long one. oops. i dont even know where im going with this, im just dumping my thoughts somewhere. half is about ttcc lore in general and the streams, the other half is about cathal and me projecting onto him deeper.

before i even hop deeper into this, it wasn't until early today that i learned that there was a whole drama about cranky's answers (regarding the graham and flint question and the whole "keep it sane" thing. i thought it was...off, but i understood it as 'do what you want people, just don't start any harassment because of ships and your favorite pairs'.

definitely could have been phrased better, though. at least we got a good response and an apology later from maven on twitter. but i legit did not know this was a drama until those twitter posts were made LOL. i dont interact with the fandom so i do not know how that answer was percieved by most. or if anyone except for me and my friends have had any thoughts about the question i asked that got answered.)

and what im tryna get to is that i get cranky isnt the one to be answering lore things, and probably didnt know what to answer... but it's still something to think about

because being told "cogs and toons just dont become how they are out of the blue" (paraphrasing here) as an answer to what cathal initially thought of seeing his dad be bet up and thrown off a tower is... confusing? he did say first and foremost that it has to be built upon before saying that. i understand that this is... a lot of characters! and cathal did have some focus on him thanks to the comic and they wanted to focus on other managers... but some have deeper, more intricate lore that's easy to grasp (especially the more, well, angstier managers like chip and misty.)

and we have gotten some extra lore for other managers like belle, mary, tawny.... thanks to thomas' rambles.

and it's definitely difficult for a team of volounteers working hard on a fan game together to make lore for all the characters, that are still very young in their *life span*, having been around for less than a year. despite ttcc being more character driven and focused on the cogs, it's still a game they have to run so they cannot focus on lore only and some game management has to be done first. there's a bunch of things they have to consider, like consistency and how fans may react, or possible themes or what they want the story to be...

and. yeah. its hard since. come on lets admit it. clash has an issue with how these are all given to us. hell, there's lore bits i still dont know about and im still learning because it's..so all over the place. a new player will not know about it. maven acknowledged this in the tweet and i really appreciate that, as it's honestly been my number one issue with clash, especially as someone who is there for the lore. (i mean, and the gameplay, i know some people who don't play the game itself much. well i sure do a little TOO MUCH because i have PROBLEMS. but im interested in the lore, too, yknow?)

some lore you cant learn from the wiki, and unless you interact with the community, you may never learn *where* all of this even is. if you werent live for certain lore there, it's hardly accessible to you. lore locked behind one time events, an arg website, wikis, discord chats... all that. it's hard to keep track of! i'm sure it's like that for both the fans and the writers. these characters are great, fun, and i love them, but the way we are given this information is... not the best. it's very easy to miss certain details.

it's especially bad if you're like me - only ever interacting with a close group of people you trust, (because people are scary especially a lot of... lore driven fans. yeahnoimeanshippers.sorry.and just big crowds of people in general) having only gotten back into the game recently AFTER most of the major lore events (first played once in 2019, then never again until january 2023) and also you dislike youtube and video content, so you dont watch it. something in your brain would rather if you step on a nail than watch a playthrough video (especially with commentary).

like in general it shouldnt be necessary to go through all these hoops just to know the lore! especially for things that may have little lore...

anyways, uh, back to cathal. i cannot stop thinking about this.

it definitely wasnt an answer to what i specifically asked - but possibly more so about... why cathal is the way he is? and despite what my brain and low self esteem during hard times may tell me - i do not believe that anybody is truly "lazy". i just dont think that exists. there's always some reason behind a person being unmotivated or lazy. even the little things!

but like... that's just kinda obvious. all toons and cogs have motivations. thats like... one of the basics of writing characters. have motivations for characters and reasons for why they are how they are. doesnt have to be anything tragic, just.... how they are as people.

it's totally unrelated to the question of what cathal thought about seeing his dad like that... but oh well! i asked that because i made up my own story around that already, and i just wanted to see what someone working on the game thinks about the same idea.

not to be Tumblr User CathalBravecog, but, of course I have projected heavily onto cathal. i have already stated how important cathal is to me as a character, especially with appreciating myself when im.. not exactly the most motivated. when im not doing much. taught me to appreciate breaks. hell! i keep preaching this myself. its okay to take breaks! and yet i often end up not doing it and i overwork myself on games and art and other things.

there's... a lot of things "wrong" with me that i don't have names for yet, especially due to not having a diagnosis for them, but they're very real feelings and they cause me to be unable to do things a lot of the time. various mental blocks and a new member of the gang... physical pai! hooray.

this... endless productivity we are forced and expected to do. it can take a toll on you. breaks are just as necessary and to say it's a thing that has to be re-learned is... sickening. hooray for living in a Corporate (clash) society, fellas.

one thing i can say is that i absolutely headcanon that cathal has adhd - though, maybe not the same type i do. i do not think he gets randomly hyper and wants to (and does) jump around everywhere and blurt things out randomly and impulsively. cathal here has the low energy, yknow.

i like that a lot of the content around him doesnt even describe him with the words "lazy" and "sleepy" instead.

every day is the same... even if his job is relatively simple, just watching over the camera feed - it's definitely boring... and having to do it every day is not rewarding. and being mostly alone and without consequence, he gives into wanting to do something else. he's got these huge screens and a room to himself, and he loves watching shows and cartoons... so he's gonna do that. it's more fun. it's stimulating. and especially with his dad being the one to give him his position, he knows that he's got nothing to really worry about there.

i also think it's a bit hard to be motivated knowing that... this war between the cogs and toons is just. endless. hell, again, he has to see his dad *everyday* be attacked by them. his body damaged after the fall - only to be fixed again. rinse and repeat. i would too, find it pointless. especially if you're like cathal, since i pointed out before that he is very kind and caring towards the other cogs. he's also thoughtful, noting that yknow... a lot of stairs to get to his room.

why do all that when you can chill... and feel good. do something that feels nice...

i don't have any names for this, but with how sleepy he usually is, that's definitely a thing to consider too. and just, from experience... being tired and/or sleepy it... dismotivates you even more. its so hard to start tasks even if you *want* to do them. and considering cathal mooost likely doesn't want to do his work on his own - then these tasks can be just. impossible to start.

like, i have struggled with this my entire life myself, just because of my adhd screwing with everything, but after getting covid and most definitely getting a form of chronic exhaustion from it.. things have been even harder. i pull myself through day and i barely have the energy to even start anything. sometimes i dont even do anything all day and... woops! still no mood or energy to do anything. i just work on random bursts of motivation and things that captivate me...

not sure how it relates to cathal, but, hey, if im personal here ill ramble about it too because WOW it has been biting me in the ass and i need to speak to Professionals About It

like... i dont think hes being "lazy" willingly, yknow? theres a reason behind it. it definitely is just... being sleepy, the comfort... the fun and stimulation doing something fun he's interested in (his shows) are just... stronger desires and way easier for him to get to. why struggle through something when it takes up all your energy, and then you feel no reward for it? yeah. exactly. even just "not feeling like it" is a reson. "not having energy" is a reason. hey, are these things to get better about if needed? certainly. i wish i could get help with this, it would help me in my life so so much. but should it be seen as ENTIRELY negative and as being a "hinder to society". hell nah. and i think thats swag. cathal is swag he can do this, good for him lmaooo. my brain is deteriorating i apologize.

there was... another thing i wanted to say, but i forgot. so i'll move on.

but just... yeah. i dont think cathal is just lazy. i dont believe in "laziness". he's got reasons for why he prefers naps and just... watching tv instead of doing his work. perhaps he does want to do these things, but gave up on trying. its not worth the effort, it does not feel good. its not stimulating enough to keep him going.

[atlabeth]

geyser

series masterlist

pairing: luke castellan x daughter of poseidon!reader

summary: percy learns about the first girl luke castellan ever loved.

a/n: this is a lil sad. sorry about that. but i really like it and it came out of nowhere in like 2 days so i hope you enjoy despite the sadness. title from the mitski song

wc: 6.5k

warning(s): major character death; not shown but hangs over the whole fic. angst made angstier by fluffy flashbacks. mostly told through percy’s pov but includes luke, annabeth, and reader povs

also if you saw this before on another account DONT WORRY... that account was also me. im just doing some stuff behind the scenes right now as i figure stuff out lol i promise no plagiarism is going on

Percy thought that his head might explode. 

He didn’t know how he was still walking, honestly. His mom died, he killed a— no, the— Minotaur, all the Greek myths were real and his dad was one of them, and now he had to deal with that freak accident with Clarisse and the toilets. 

At least he would be ready next time she tried to beat him up. Percy had been the new kid enough to know there would be a next time.

All he could do was stare at the Minotaur horn in his hands, the only sign that what happened outside the border was real. The horn in his hands and the hole in his heart. 

Percy swallowed the lump in his throat. He’d been thrown into the deep end, and the only thing on his mind was when he would start to drown. 

“Hey.” Percy looked up to see the counselor he’d met earlier with Annabeth—Luke. He tossed a ziploc bag at him and he caught it, taking a moment to look at what was in it. 

“I stole you some toiletries from the camp store,” he explained. “Thought it might make you feel more at home.” 

“…Thanks.” He didn’t know if Luke was joking, but the damage had already been done. And it was the nicest thing someone had done for him so far. He set it down next to his Minotaur shoebox. “Is this the best that it gets?” 

Luke’s lips quirked up in a slight smile. “For now. We’re a little crowded, if you couldn’t tell.” 

“Just a little bit.” Percy stood up from his sleeping bag and worked out the knot in his shoulder. “Where’s your bed? Assuming you have one.” 

“I couldn’t wrangle all these cats without some back support,” he said, and he pointed to a bed in the corner. It was the only one on its own without a bunk, and he had a fair amount of decorations. Counselor privileges, he figured. Percy walked over, Luke trailing behind him. 

“Nice place,” he said. Percy picked up the Yankee’s cap on his bedside table and nodded as he looked back at him. “Nice taste.” 

“It’s for Annabeth,” Luke said. “She wanted us to match.” 

Percy nodded again in approval. “Good taste for both of you.”

Luke had various other things around — an alarm clock knocked over next to the baseball cap, a huskie sticker on the wall half-scraped off, a poster for an album he didn’t recognize. 

But the thing that caught his eye was a polaroid hanging on the wall, surrounded by a smattering of others varying in size. 

The first one had to be an old picture—Luke didn’t have his scar, and the biggest smile stretched across his face. He had a girl close with an arm slung around her waist, and she might’ve been smiling even more than Luke. A bright energy emanated around her, something that must have transferred through the picture, because Percy found himself feeling a little better just looking at her. He wondered if she was a camper. 

His eyes flicked to the next picture, which was another one of Luke and that girl. They were both laughing as she tried to put a blue hat on Luke’s head, and he protested with a hand on her wrist. They were in the forefront of a baseball game, Percy noticed.

There were other pictures, too—Luke, a girl dressed all punk, and what looked like a young version of Annabeth, most notably—but a majority of them were either Luke and that girl, or the girl all on her own. In every single one, she beamed brighter than the sun. 

Percy pointed at the picture of Luke and the girl at the baseball game, his curiosity getting the better of him. “Who’s that?”

That seemed to catch Luke off-guard, his lips parting for a moment as if he wanted to say something. It barely took him any time to get back on track, but Percy found himself frowning. 

“That’s…” Luke cleared his throat, wet his lips, shook his head. “A friend. A very good friend.”

“Does she go here?” Percy asked. 

“She did.” 

He frowned. “Where is she, then?” 

“Percy—” Luke’s voice was strained, but he didn’t really notice as he went on. 

“I didn’t see her around,” he continued, “and you look pretty close.” 

Luke blinked a couple times, and Percy swore he could see the telltale glimmer of tears starting in his eyes. A muscle worked in his jaw, and suddenly Percy was worried that he’d said something horribly wrong. He had a talent for that, it seemed. 

Fortunately, he was saved by the bell—conch shell?—and something like relief flooded through Luke’s expression. Tension still coiled in his body. 

“Come on,” he said, that camp counselor smile coming back as he put his hand on Percy’s shoulder and guided him away from the enclave. “That means dinner’s about to start.”

Percy’s frown deepened as curiosity won out again. “Was she your—”

“You don’t wanna be late,” Luke continued, ignoring his attempt. “I assume you’re pretty hungry after two days spent out?”

Well, that only made him want to push harder. But Percy figured he wouldn’t get anything out of him—especially not now. 

“…Yeah,” Percy said. “Starving.”

An odd look flickered across his face, but again, it only lasted for a second before he was back to normal. He cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled, “Eleven! Fall in!” 

Percy was at the back of the line by virtue of him being the new kid, and he found himself looking back at that picture of Luke and the girl. He didn’t know why, but something drew him to her. Before Percy could think about it more, the line was moving and his growling stomach drew his attention away. 

He would have plenty of time to ask Luke about it later. 

Or rather, ask him and piss off the only person who’d tried to be his friend so far. 

…Gods. 

Maybe he was going to drown sooner than he thought. 

-

“Luke—” 

“No!” 

“Luke, please!” 

“Annabeth will kill me if she knows—” 

“She won’t know!” 

“Alright, alright— stay still, you two!” 

Your mother laughed from behind the camera as you and Luke fought with each other, you trying your damnedest to get your Red Sox cap on his head as he tried his damnedest to stop you. The frantic laughter on both sides made it a little difficult for either of you to succeed in your quest, but eventually, you got the rock up the hill and the hat on his head. 

“Take the picture, Mom!” you exclaimed, pulling Luke even closer by his arms so he couldn’t get it off. “I need the proof!” 

“I knew this was a bad idea,” Luke groaned, staring at the camera as you wrapped your arm around his side and leaned into him. He could already imagine your victorious smile, brighter than the sun beating down on them in the stadium, and just the thought of it made one of his own flit across his lips. 

“Oh, shut up, Castellan,” you said. “You chose to come to this game. Everyone’s gonna know you’re a Red Sox fan now.”

“You said you wouldn’t tell her!” Luke defended, wrenching his arms free of your control to take the hat off his head. “I don’t even care about baseball!” 

“You care so much about it,” you said cloyingly, “and you’re ride or die for the Boston Red Sox.” 

“If you say a single word—” 

“Okay, kids!” Your mother pointed at the seats next to her. “The game’s about to start—you can keep arguing, but only if you sit down so I can see.” 

“Sorry, Mom.” You grinned at her as you pulled Luke over to your seats—they were a step up from nosebleeds, but they were the ones closest to the balcony so you could at least peer over the railing down to the diamond.

“It’s alright, sweetheart.” She glanced at Luke with a smile, and he could really see where you got it from. “We’ve gotta make him a fan somehow.” 

“I guess I can live with the brand.” Luke set the cap back on your head once you were seated, purposefully pulling the brim a little over your eyes, and he smiled at you. “Even though it looks better on you, anyways.” 

“You just don’t have what it takes to be a Red Sox fan in the heart of Yank territory,” you mused, pushing the hat back up so you could see. “It’s fine.” 

Luke rolled his eyes, but he could hardly bite back his smile. 

“I am glad you came, though,” you said, glancing back at him. “I’m glad you came with me in the first place. This is gonna be the best semester.”

“Thanks for having me,” Luke said. “It’s… it’s been a while since I’ve left camp.” 

“Fingers crossed for no monster attacks, eh?” You held up your hand. “At least, not during the game. I could live with it happening any other time.” 

“Don’t speak it into existence,” your mom said. “We’re going to have a monster-free school year.” 

To humor her, you made a claw over your heart and pushed out. She hummed in satisfaction, and you looked over at Luke. “It’s gonna be fine.” 

“Yeah,” he said. “Because two kids like us aren’t gonna draw any attention.” 

“Oh, I know we will,” you said. “But I know it’ll be fine.” 

Luke frowned. “How can you be so sure?” 

You shrugged with a smile. “I’ve got you.”

And in that moment, he was thankful for the freakish heat that honestly made no sense in the spring—at least it covered up any sign of what your words did to him. 

Luke thought you were joking when you asked him if he wanted to come back home with you for the school year. He didn’t know why you wanted to go back in the first place, being a Big Three kid that apparently had a death wish, but the thought of him leaving camp was almost inconceivable. 

Even after you assured him you weren’t joking, he still wasn’t sure. He was on the run with you for three years, then… 

Well, he couldn’t think about it for too long. But Luke had been on the outskirts of regular society for so long, doing nothing but fighting for his life, that he didn’t know if he could actually function at a normal school.

But it felt right for you two to get some normal time together after you were separated for so long. It took him a semester to decide, but one day during your usual Iris message conversations, he told you he’d love to spend the rest of the year in Boston with you. Luke still remembered the grin you wore, your disbelieving but victorious cheers, the apology you yelled back at your mother for your noise. 

Luke watched you as you talked with your mom, discussing Boston’s chances and player statistics and baseball jargon he didn’t think he’d ever understand, and he knew he would sit through a thousand Red Sox games if it meant he would get to keep seeing your smile.

You must have felt his eyes on you, because you glanced over at him. “Are you okay?” 

Luke smiled. Gods, he was so glad you were here. 

“Never better.” 

-

“That one nearly got me,” Luke said. 

Percy huffed as he picked up his sword from the ground—he was pretty sure he would officially lose his mind if Luke disarmed him with that stupid move one more time. One benefit to the Hermes cabin being too scared to associate with him after getting claimed was that he wasn’t making a fool out of himself in front of other people. 

“Maybe I can only beat you when I pour water on myself,” he said. 

Luke chuckled as he took a bottle from the cooler on the side and held it up. “Wanna try?” 

He shook his head. “I think my arms will fall off if I keep going with you.” 

He tipped his shoulder. “Fair.” 

Percy stared at the ground as Luke gathered himself, trying to put the free range thoughts roaming around his head in order. It didn’t help that he’d gained a million questions after Poseidon claimed him, and it didn’t help that there’s been a newest addition to his dream last night. 

He still felt strange asking Luke about it, but he had to know more about her. Percy didn’t know why it felt like his mission to find out who this mysterious girl was, or why he felt that strange connection to her. Maybe it was the way Luke acted whenever he brought her up, maybe it was that she’d popped up in his dream next to him at the very end, maybe it was just plain old curiosity. 

“I’m not supposed to be alive,” Percy said, breaking the silence. “I could die at any time in a bunch of different horrible ways. So will you tell me more about that girl on your wall?”  

Again, Luke seemed to be caught off guard by it. Percy heard the crunch of plastic as his hand clenched ever so slightly around the bottle, and he tried to cover it up with an arched eyebrow. “Why do you want to know so badly?” 

He shrugged. What was he supposed to say? 

“I’m curious,” he decided. 

Luke huffed a dry laugh before he took a sip of water, and he stared off into the distance for a while. He did a lot of staring whenever this girl was brought up. They looked like they were best friends in those pictures, but maybe whatever they had ended badly. And if she was a demigod too…

Well, it would make sense why he didn’t want to talk about her. 

“You know that phrase about curiosity?” Luke asked. 

“And how it killed the cat?” 

He nodded, drinking some more. “It goes double for demigods.” 

“Everything else wants to kill me,” Percy said. “So curiosity’s gonna have to get in line.” 

Luke’s laugh was a little more genuine this time, and he shook his head. “I guess I can tell you a little about her. You actually probably have a right to know.” 

“Is she a half-blood?” Percy asked immediately. 

He nodded. “Yeah.” 

“Who’s her parent?” 

Luke capped his water bottle and looked at Percy for a good, long moment. His face glowed in the warm afternoon sun, his scar cast in a softer light than usual. The scar used to unnerve him, but he’d gotten used to it after weeks staring at it during sword fighting. 

“She was a child of Poseidon, Percy,” he said. “Just like you.” 

Percy felt short of breath, like Luke had just knocked his sword out of his hand and shoved him to the ground. But he stood on his own two legs that somehow still worked, and Luke hadn’t moved. 

He had a sister? 

“I have a sister?” 

“…Had,” Luke corrected. “She… she died a few years back.” 

A vice latched onto Percy’s heart. He was still having a hard time breathing. No wonder Luke always used past tense when he was talking about her. 

He had a sister, he wasn’t alone, but he was because she was dead. And if Luke was one of her friends, that meant she died young. 

Gods. 

“What about their oath?” Percy asked, trying to ignore the aching in his chest. “I’m already on thin ice for my whole existing thing. How did Poseidon get away with two kids so close to each other?” 

Luke shrugged. “I’ve never known why gods do things. Her mother was a great woman, though—I could see what drew Poseidon to her against the oath.” 

One half of Percy wanted to ask every question that kept popping into his head. The other side of him wanted to break down and cry. 

“How did you meet her?” 

“We ran into each other when we were both young,” he said. “Both child runaways, both demigods, both New Englanders—we decided to rough it out on the road together. Couldn’t be any worse than doing it on our own.”

Percy tried to imagine it. A young Luke and a younger version of that girl—maybe Percy’s age—living together in the wilderness and fighting monsters. Surviving off of nothing but their wit and skill, facing death each day before they’d even reached middle school. 

“It… it didn’t happen then, did it?” he asked hesitantly. 

Luke shook his head. “Couple years later. All we did was watch each other’s backs out there.” 

Percy couldn’t help himself. “What happened to her?”  

“The same thing that happens to everyone,” Luke said flatly. “There’s a reason I’m the oldest one here.” 

“That doesn’t make it better,” Percy insisted. “It— it makes it worse, Luke. You see that, right?”  

Luke stared at his empty water bottle then tossed it back into the cooler. When his gaze met Percy’s, he was shocked by how… tired he looked. Beyond exhausted—bone-weary. Percy wanted to say more, but he didn’t get the chance. 

“This isn’t good conversation,” Luke said, “and it’s getting late. You should hit the showers before dinner.” 

The sun still beat down on them, bright and angry in the sky, but Percy provided no argument. He had a lot to think about. 

Before they went their separate ways, Percy stopped and looked back at him. “I’m sorry she’s gone, Luke.” 

Luke’s gaze went unfocused for a moment, his eyes growing glossy. “So am I.” 

-

Percy sat on the floor of the Hermes cabin in the corner that used to be his, staring at his meager belongings. He had to decide what to take on his quest, which was made easier by the fact that he hardly had anything to his name. Things could always be worse, though. At least he would have a change of clothes. 

He should’ve been doing this in his own cabin, but it felt too empty, too suffocating in its silence. Eleven was still more familiar. He heard the door open and saw Luke walk in, and his eyes lit up when he saw Percy. 

“Hey,” he said. “I wanted to see you before you left. How’re you feeling pre-quest?” 

“Like the world’s about to end,” he said. 

Luke’s lips twitched into a smile as he sat on the bed across from Percy. “Understandable. It kinda is.” 

“It’s just overwhelming.” Percy shoved the unfolded clothes into his backpack. “I have to clear mine and my dad’s names and get Zeus’s bolt back, or else war will start. No pressure at all.” 

“You were chosen for a reason,” Luke said. “You may not see it, Percy, but you’ve improved a lot since you got here. If anyone can do this, I think it’s you.” 

Percy looked up at him, and he was reminded of the way their last conversation went. He was asking before he could really stop himself. 

���I could die on this quest and never see you again,” Percy said. “So could you tell me more about my sister before I go?”  

Luke smiled wistfully and sighed. “You really won’t let this go, will you?” 

“It’s not really something you just let go,” he said. “Besides, I… I saw her in my dream last night.” 

Luke’s smile faded. “You did?”  

Percy nodded. “For a split second, but I know it was her. I felt the same way I did whenever I looked at her pictures. And… it’s the second time she’s shown up.” 

He let out a long sigh and shook his head, his gaze trailing off to the wall. He always looked so much older when he talked about this girl, like he was a war veteran reminiscing on his lost love. And from what he’d gathered, it might not have been too far off. 

“I told you we ran together when we were young,” he said, and Percy nodded. “We were both nine, and it should’ve been terrible, but she had a way of making everything better. Always found the bright side of things, was always able to make me laugh.” 

“She was from Massachusetts—right in the middle of Boston.” Luke chuckled as he looked at Percy. “Huge Red Sox fan.” 

Percy grimaced. “We all make mistakes.” 

Luke smiled, though it faded a bit. “We got separated for a while, but we found each other again when I got to camp. Things were more peaceful than they are now, so she’d been claimed at camp pretty quickly. I figure Poseidon wanted her to have the protection of him openly standing behind her after what happened.” 

He frowned. “What do you mean, ‘what happened’?” 

Luke shook his head. “That would be an awful story to send you off on.” 

Percy wanted to protest, but he didn’t. Luke was probably right—Percy didn’t want to make him relive it and then have to go on a death quest right after.

“A happier part, then,” he suggested.

“She ran away from home as a kid to protect her mom, but now that she had an idea of what she was doing, she started going back to school. She invited me to stay with her during the school year one year, and I accepted. That—” Luke’s throat bobbed, and the other hand clenched into a fist— “that was when she died.” 

In his stunned silence, Luke got up and went over to his alcove. He pulled the drawer open on his bedside table and pulled out a neatly folded piece of paper. It must’ve been folded and crumpled a million other times in messier ways by all the creases he could see, but when Luke opened it, he could see handwriting all over the front. 

A letter. 

“We Iris messaged each other constantly while she was at school,” he said, “and we wrote back and forth when we couldn’t. This was the last letter she sent me.” 

Percy’s first instinct was to say he wouldn’t be able to read it, but he realized that he didn’t really care. These were words that his sister wrote—he would sit here the rest of the day forcing sentences to make sense if that was what it took. 

So he took the letter when Luke offered it. 

To the one and only Luke Castellan, 

My mom said yes! After a very long interrogation (she now knows basically everything about you) and a million promises that you would be as careful as possible and that you were good enough at sword fighting to take down anything that could come after us, she said you can spend the year here. We spent a couple hours every day making my mom’s study into a guest room, so you have a place to stay.

I’m an idiot that didn’t bring enough drachmas so that’s why I have to send this letter—hopefully it gets to you soon enough, because we’re gonna come get you a week before my winter break is over. Mom is letting me drive down because she says I have to get my permit soon. It makes sense that my first big test is getting to you. If we don’t make it, it’s because we died in a fiery crash. 

Just kidding. I’m a great driver. But tell me some of your favorite songs when you reply and I’ll burn a CD for the ride—I figured out how to use LimeWire. Oh, and throw in a couple drachmas with the envelope so I can Iris message you next time. I miss your face and your voice, and my hand is cramping up writing all of this. 

But this is so exciting! I can’t wait to introduce you to all my friends at school, and show you my favorite places in the city, and make you into a Red Sox fan. And you can come to my soccer games— I’m the greatest forward there is. 

Jokes aside, I’m going to make sure you have the best time. We’ll spend every second together, Luke. We’re gonna make up for the time we lost. 

I can’t wait to see you again.

Your hurricane.  

It took Percy a long time to get through it with the words swimming all over, and it didn’t help that his vision had grown blurry. 

Tears, he realized as he blinked, and he did it again to make sure they wouldn’t fall. He couldn’t cry in front of Luke, not over a girl he didn’t even know—even if she was his sister. But maybe he was grieving that—the fact that he would never get to know her. 

“God, man. I— I’m sorry.” Percy couldn’t think of anything else to say. “She sounds like she was great.” 

Luke couldn’t even manage a smile this time as he stared at the wall. Percy was surprised he could even talk to him about it. 

“She was,” he murmured. “You would’ve liked her. And gods,” this time, a bit of a smile broke through despite it all, “she would have loved a little brother.” 

“I’m gonna make her proud on this quest,” Percy vowed. “I’m gonna clear our dad’s name for her.”

Something in Luke’s gaze had changed—sadness, almost regret. “You’re a good kid, Percy. I hope your quest doesn’t change that.” 

I hope I come back alive, he wanted to say. But given the topic matter, he didn’t. Percy carefully folded the letter back up and handed it to Luke. 

“Thank you for telling me about her, man,” Percy said. “I… I know it can’t be easy.”

Luke let out a shuddering breath as he stared at the closed letter—Percy wondered how many times he must have sat in this same position, reading her words. “No better way to honor her memory than helping her brother.” He glanced at Percy. “I see a lot of her in you.” 

He’d been wondering if he had anything in common with her. Percy felt a sudden flare of anger shoot through him—it wasn’t fair that she was dead. Poseidon was a god, and she was a teenager. He should have saved her. 

Percy’s mouth was drier than a desert. A part of him wanted to curl up in a ball and sob over the sister he never got the chance to know, but the other part of him knew—from what little Luke had told him about her—that she wouldn’t want him to. 

“I should get going,” Percy said, standing up from the floor. “We have to leave for the quest soon, and Annabeth and Grover are probably wondering where I am, and…” 

Percy trailed off, and Luke nodded in understanding. He turned around and took one of the photos off the wall—one of you alone in the middle of a park, wearing a bucket hat and absolutely beaming. 

“You deserve to have a part of her with you,” he said. “For good luck.” 

He felt himself choking up, and he pushed it down as he accepted the photo. “Thanks, man. It means a lot.”

“Good luck, Percy,” Luke said. “You’ve got a lot of people rooting for you.”

Percy found himself studying the picture of you once he made it outside, trying to memorize your face. With your wide, infectious smile that emanated pure sunlight, he could have mistaken you for an Apollo kid. But when he looked at you, he got that same warmth that he felt every time he imagined his father. 

“I won’t let you down,” he murmured. “I promise.” 

-

After sleeping in his train seat for half the day, Percy vowed to never complain about his bed in Cabin Three again. He was gonna be going down to the Underworld with permanent cricks in his neck. 

Grover was still sound asleep—Percy envied him for how easily it came to him in the worst conditions—but thankfully, Annabeth wasn’t. Her gaze was focused on the view as their train chugged along. 

Percy cleared his throat in a flawless attempt at getting her attention, and it worked. 

“You’re awake,” she said. 

“Unfortunately.” Percy sighed. “How much longer do you think it’ll be?” 

“Another day, at least,” she said. “And we’ve got a layover in St. Louis.” 

“St. Louis,” he hummed. “Nice.” 

They sat in silence for a while—there wasn’t much to talk about when they were coming off of two— or was it three, now?—near-death experiences. But eventually, Annabeth cleared her throat, taking a page from his book, and it worked again. 

“There— there’s probably something you should know,” Annabeth said, and that worked even better than clearing her throat. “You’re not the only Big Three kid to come through Camp Half-blood lately.” 

“I know,” he said. “Grover and Luke explained it.” 

Her eyes widened slightly and she leaned forward in her seat. “Luke did?” 

“…Yeah. You all already told me about Thalia.” Percy glanced away, suddenly feeling a chill in the train car. “Luke told me about my sister.” 

Annabeth went silent. 

“It’s okay,” he said. “I kind of annoyed Luke until he told me. Doesn’t really seem like a subject people at camp like to talk about.” 

“I’m just surprised he did,” she murmured. “They were… they were close, Percy. Her death destroyed him—Thalia and your sister. All of it’s complicated.”  

“Yeah,” he sighed, “I got some of that.” 

“I only knew her for a year at camp, but everyone loved her,” she said. “She was nice. Popular. Always helped when she could, always had the biggest, most infectious smile on her face.” Annabeth looked down at her hands. “She didn’t deserve the fate she got.” 

Percy didn’t think he’d ever grieved so much for someone he never knew. “But her and Luke—were they…?” 

“Yeah,” Annabeth said, “they were a thing, later on.” 

That seemed to be all she wanted to say on the matter. Percy decided not to push. 

“How did you meet her?” he asked. 

Annabeth’s lips pressed into a thin line. “I met her on the day I thought I would die.”

-

For the first time in her life, Annabeth Chase couldn’t think. 

It had all happened so fast. One second she was running with Luke and Thalia and Grover, praying to her mother and any other gods that would listen to make the horde of monsters let up even a centimeter.

The next, she’d collapsed on the ground, never so grateful to have grass and dirt and dust in her face. But she could hear Luke yelling, barely able to make it out in her delirious state—she didn’t know when she’d last had a sip of water, and they’d been running for at least three miles—but he sounded hysterical. 

She remembered her last clear thought: they weren’t going to make it. 

But they had. They had, so why was Luke losing his mind? 

Annabeth pulled herself up from the ground—how long had she been bleeding out of those slashes on her arm?—and looked for the rest of her friends. Luke wasn’t yelling anymore, instead arguing with someone she didn’t recognize in a bright orange shirt. Grover’s furry legs trembled as he stared down the hill they’d just gotten up, completely silent, and Thalia— 

Where was Thalia? 

Annabeth tried to get up but her legs gave out almost immediately, and steady arms caught her before she could fall to the ground again. Kind eyes served to ease some of her panic—she was older than Annabeth, maybe around Luke or Thalia’s age. 

Thalia— 

“Hey, you’re okay,” the voice said, and Annabeth’s attention was drawn back to you. “I’ve got you.” 

“Where’s Thalia?” she blurted out, because now she couldn’t think of anything else. 

Your brows creased and you glanced back down the hill—Annabeth did too, and she saw Grover and Luke arguing with each other. Or rather, Luke was yelling at him as Grover anxiously hooked his hands through his hair. 

“I don’t know,” you said, “but right now, I need to make sure you’re okay. Are you hurt?” 

Annabeth absentmindedly held up her arm, but she was only focused on her friends. Why wasn’t Thalia with them? Why was Luke so upset?

You cursed under your breath in Ancient Greek as you cradled her arm, and you looked back down the hill. Annabeth could see at least half a dozen other kids. 

“We’ve got two half-bloods and a satyr, one injured!” you yelled back. “Get Molly and Brayden!” 

“Three,” Annabeth found herself saying. “There’s three half-bloods—” 

“Annabeth!” 

Her head shot up at the sound of Luke calling her name as he bounded over, and her eyes widened at the blood steadily spidering across the fabric of his shirt. 

“Luke, you’re hurt—” 

“I’m fine,” he insisted. “It’s fine.” 

“We have Apollo kids coming,” you said, looking up at him, still cradling Annabeth’s arm. “We’ll get y—” 

Your sentence stuck in your throat, and Annabeth could see tears welling in your eyes as your brows furrowed. She thought Luke’s eyes might burst out of his skull as he stared at you, his lips parted but nothing coming out. Neither of you were able to form words. 

When he finally did get something out, it was a single name. One Annabeth knew by heart, one that he’d mourned for years. 

“Luke?” you whispered. 

Before he had the chance to do anything, two teenagers got over the hill and called out your name, the same one Luke used. He always said you were dead, but you clearly weren’t dead, because you were here and you had her arm in your grasp and while your hands were cold, they weren’t cold enough to be dead— 

“Molly’s gonna take care of you,” you said, looking back at Annabeth and cutting off her inner dialogue. “She’ll get you to the infirmary and heal you up, okay?” 

“My friends—” 

“They’re gonna be okay too,” you said. “I promise.” 

Annabeth looked up at Luke, and he nodded. “We’ll be with you soon, Annabeth. We— we have to talk about some things.” 

So she went with Molly down the hill, and Annabeth put pressure on her bleeding wound when she told her to—it had started to sting like hell now that her adrenaline was fading. 

She looked back just in time to see you and Luke share the tightest hug ever. 

The hug of two people who realized they weren’t seeing ghosts, Annabeth thought. 

-

You bolted up in bed, eyes wide and your chest heaving as you rapidly sucked in air. Your fingers found purchase in your bedsheets, desperate for something familiar—it took a second for you to recognize your surroundings, that you weren’t in an endless void, but your childhood bedroom offered little comfort.  

You ran a hand over your forehead, damp with sweat, as you tried to calm down. Your breathing slowed, but you couldn’t shake that awful feeling that hung over you in your sleep. 

Your nightmares were getting worse, you knew that much. That raspy, demented voice used to be a rarity, and now it appeared every night. You could usually deal with your nightmares, but the sense of absolute dread that voice and the pit fostered in you was too much. You hadn’t managed to sleep through the night once since you came home for the school year.

You could deal with the monsters—to you, this was the worst part of your godly blood.

A knock rattled on the door out of nowhere, and you nearly jumped out of your skin. The only thing that calmed you down was the thought that monsters didn’t knock. 

“Come in,” you croaked, your throat drier than a desert. 

Thankfully, a monster hadn’t come to make your night even more miserable. Luke stood in the doorway, his eyebrows creased in concern, messy curls hanging just above his eyes. He wore the Red Sox t-shirt you’d bought for him at the game you dragged him to, and in your addled state, you didn’t even think to tease him about it. 

“Are you okay?” He should’ve been as disoriented as you, but his alerted eyes told a different story. 

You could only think of one thing. “How did you know?” 

Luke’s lips parted for a moment, as if he hadn’t even considered it. “I could just feel it.”

You managed a smile despite every atom in your body screaming at you. “I think that means you can come in.” 

He closed the door behind him, and you shifted over in your bed to make room for him. There wasn’t much in a twin, but you made it work. Luke’s weight pressed into the mattress, making you adjust your position, and it was more comforting than any amount of blankets. 

“You’re so cold,” he murmured, laying the back of his hand against your arm. “How do you live like that?” 

“Blame my dad,” you said. “I’ve got water in my blood.” 

“I think that’s probably a bad thing,” Luke said, and you knocked your shoulder into his with a huff. 

“You know what I mean.” 

Luke let his hand fall back in his lap, and as you brought your knees up to your chest, you pulled the covers with them. 

“So,” Luke said, glancing at you, “what’s got you awake at the witching hour?” 

“The usual,” you mumbled. 

“Nightmares that might be prophetic?” he asked. 

You made a lazy gesture with your hand. “Bingo.” 

“The worst sense of dread imaginable?” 

“Bullseye.” 

“I’m sorry,” he said. 

You shrugged. “It’s nothing I can’t deal with.” 

“You don’t always have to put on a front, y’know,” Luke said. You felt his eyes on you. “You don’t always have to be strong.” 

“I’m naturally strong,” you said with mock austerity. “Comes with the god for a dad.” 

Luke chuckled and shook his head. “You know what I mean.” 

“Yeah,” you murmured. 

You leaned into his side, fitting your head into the crook of his neck. Luke wrapped his arm around you, pulling you closer, and you let out a contented sigh. 

That voice in your nightmares seemed so small when you had Luke. 

“Can you stay?” you asked softly. 

He didn’t hesitate. “Of course.” 

“Just like old times,” you whispered. 

“Just like old times,” he agreed. 

Luke ran hot, and you’d never been more thankful for it as you fully settled into his side. Icy blood ran through your veins, and you let out a shaky sigh. You could hear his steady breathing, feel his heartbeat through his chest, and the anxiety from earlier began to steadily fade. You never felt safer than when you were with Luke. 

There was something between you—you weren’t that stupid—but you hadn’t talked about it. With you and Luke, it was just… you and Luke. You didn’t have to put a label to it. 

How could you put a label to your relationship, when you’d spent your first few years together fighting for each day, and then the next few thinking the other was dead? 

Maybe someday, you would talk about it. But for now, this was more than enough. 

“Don’t worry,” Luke murmured in your ear as your eyes began to droop. “I’m not gonna let anything happen to you.” 

And by the gods, you believed him. 

[earthtooz]

x : AVOIDANCE :*+ﾟ

in which: falling for blade was not on your agenda, so naturally you decide to distance yourself. however, the last thing you'd predicted was blade being upset with the sudden space.

warnings: 2.3k wc, FLUFF, ooc!blade probably bc i'm still trying to figure it out, kafka meddles with the two of you, gn!stellaron hunter!reader who has a past lol, NOT PROOFREAD, idiots in love bc i love that trope, bad writing

a/n: thank you to the anon who gave me this idea :D much appreciated, i had a lot of fun with this one when my angstier fics were draining me af. i hope you enjoy, apologies if it's a little low quality, but it's my child <3

when you first joined the team of stellaron hunters, you didn’t expect to get much out of it, especially since the team looked so cold, calculating, mischievous, and unforgiving, greeting you with vicious smiles and muddy eyes. preemptively, you assumed the most you would receive is acquaintanceship.

however, time has proven you wrong, because on the contrary, you have found comfort, friendship, and stability in the form of this mismatched group.

you never expected to find love either.

but you did, and it might be the worst decision your heart has ever made.

“y/n, there you are. kafka and i are thinking about going out to lunch. want to join?” silver wolf’s voice interrupts your train of thought, disrupting your peace in your private spot amongst the gardens.

“oh, hi silver wolf,” you murmur, shutting your book after shoving in a bookmark. “who else is going?”

“kafka asked blade and he agreed.”

the genius hacker doesn’t notice the way you tense upon hearing a certain swordman’s name. instead, you play it cool by opening up your book again, scanning the pages in hopes of ignoring the racing of your heart.

“i think i’ll pass on this one. thank you though,” you mutter.

“really?” the silver-haired asks, popping her gum before shrugging. “whatever you say. i’m off!”

“bye!”

hearing her footsteps fade, you slump in your seat, your memories with blade hauntingly eminent in your mind. you don’t recall when you fell for him, or why exactly, all you have in your recollection is a series of moments that you look back fondly upon with a full heart, love slowly seeping in to you and causing your affections to grow to the size that they reside at now.

when you had realised, the love had already grown too big to deflate, and dejection struck moments after; a big bang of butterflies in your stomach that all disintegrated straight after.

how brutal- perhaps this was an indication that blade was rubbing off on you too much, and you need to cleanse yourself of his influence.

love, although fickle, was not something that you avidly rejected. despite having lived like a hunted deer, your experiences have been fleeting, building your delicate heart for a life of meeting, falling, then leaving when you least wanted to, needing to run before an arrow pierced you- and certainly not cupid’s one. 

but with blade, everything is different. there is no arrow to run from, not in the life that elio has foreseen for you. for the first time in your life, you can stop running away and try fall into the arms of love with little remorse.

it's just ironic that you fall into the arms of a man who should not be touched.

“y/n’s not coming with us today,” silver wolf reports after meeting up with the other two stellaron hunters.

“oh?” kafka hums, “usually y/n’s always willing to hangout, why’s that?”

“busy or something, i don’t know, i didn’t care to ask.”

the slight scrunch of displeasure in blade’s expression passes by the keen eyes of both kafka and silver wolf. if either of them had noticed then perhaps it would have been a topic of interest, but for the time being, the pair move on (faster than the third member), your unusual absence dismissed in favour of where to get food.

as the days turn into nights and elio issues more missions and mumbles more futures, blade feels as though he sees you less and less.

it’s not intuition more than it is you purposefully ignoring and evading blade in your everyday, though.

“good morning,” kafka’s voice greets when she walks in to the cafeteria, where you were eating breakfast alone. setting down your phone, you regard her with a mouth full of bread. “gross. at least swallow first.”

“screw off,” you murmur. “how did you sleep?”

“fine fine, i woke up in the wrong position though and my neck is killing me, but what about you? seems like you’ve been up a while.”

“i’ve been up since asscrack of dawn.” 

the purple-haired regards you with amusement. “why’s that?”

“body clock or whatever,” you lie, staring down at your glass of water.

“i see,” kafka hums half-heartedly, as if seeing right through you. “well, i’m going to get some coffee, i’ll be right back.”

“mk.”

you’re left on your own for only a few minutes, waiting patiently in silence for kafka to return. the morning is cool and pleasant, and the smell of rain is still heavy in the air as the morning dew lightens the atmosphere. the weather will surely get hotter as the day matures, but for now, you enjoy the gentle caress of sunlight on your back.

or rather- you were enjoying the gentle caress of the sun, but the methodicalness of it all is ruined when you spot a certain figure with dark, long hair beside kafka.

suddenly the last thing you know is peace and calm, and the abrupt, painful scraping of your chair against the floor symbolises that.

“going somewhere?” kafka asks.

picking up your scraps, you avoid blade’s gaze. “yeah! i- uh, realised that i have some documents to drop off for elio by twelve or whatever.”

“won't you stay to keep us company for breakfast,” the purple-haired tempts, “it feels like it’s been so long since we’ve spent some proper time together.”

“has it?” you laugh nervously and kafka easily picks up the pitchiness of your tone. “i’ll make it up soon, i promise, i’ve just been overflowed with things to do.”

“alright. you be off then. don’t work too hard.”

“i won’t. my head is remaining tight on my shoulders, don’t you worry!” you reassure before scrambling away, feeling like your legs could not be any slower as you retreat away from blade’s scrutinising gaze. when you round the corner, you sigh a breath of relief. 

it’s laughable and simultaneously admirable how dedicated you are about dodging every interaction possible, but for the record, you think you’re doing quite well. not that space was doing many favours for your heart, but persistence is key. 

whoever believed that distance makes the heart grow fonder just clearly didn’t try enough, because yours feels like it’s about to hammer out of your chest with how fast it is racing, and the sensation is equivalent to something like pain rather than fondness.

“i’m worried,” blade mutters, gaze lingering on where you’d just disappeared. “and why does y/n talk like i’m not right here?”

“aww, are you upset?” coos kafka, taking a seat. the swordsman mimics her.

“why wouldn’t i be? it feels like y/n has been ignoring me as of late.”

kafka hums thoughtfully, swirling her coffee cup around.

“do you know anything about that?”

“nup. nothing at all,” she answers, feigning ignorance to the many suspicions that are bubbling around in her mind. the last thing kafka is, is blind, your unusual behaviour has not bypassed her perceptive eye at all, but she believes she has uncovered the reasoning as to why; said reasoning being a certain swordsman.

the revelation is definitely interesting, and she might just be able to give the push you both need.

“y’know what, bladie? if it concerns you that much, i’d say you go check up on y/n later,” kafka suggests.

“why not you?”

“i’ll be busy, but i think some support in dire times is just what y/n needs.”

“okay. fine.”

when blade gathers the courage to check up on you, like kafka recommended, the time is nearing 5pm. the sun is beginning to cool, the animals are retreating into their nests, and the big, bad, intimidating stellaron hunter is roaming around the archives, where you’re situated to work, hoping to locate you.

it takes a few laps around to finally find your placement because you’re fast asleep, only identifiable to blade by the jacket you hung on the back of your chair.

the sight of you hunched over your desk over a multitude of forms and papers causes a wave of concern (however much he can feel) to wash over blade, and suddenly, he does something completely foreign to him: dote over someone.

gently lifting your jacket to cover your shoulders, he stills when you shift a little, your eyebrows furrowing in your sleep. deciding to leave you alone, all blade spares is one lasting look at your vulnerability before leaving. 

he wonders what it is that could be making you so frustrated. 

(if only he knew). 

a few days later, kafka confronts you about the suspicions that’s been creeping to the forefront of her mind.

“did you do something to piss a certain bladie off?” 

kafka’s saccharine voice is laced with mischief as she leans towards you, chin resting on the palm of her hand. she certainly does not miss the way you tense up at the mention of the swordsman’s name and her smirk widens when you shuffle away, subconsciously turning away, as if avoiding the subject.

“i can’t think of why i would have,” you murmur, crossing your arms. “why?”

“oh, nothing, he’s just been complaining and crying a lot recently.”

“he does that all the time.”

“so he does,” your fellow stellaron hunter hums. “except he’s mentioning your name a lot more nowadays.” 

you freeze. “what?”

“hm? did i say something peculiar?”

inhaling a deep breath, you steady yourself. you know what kafka wants out of you and you’re not going to give it to her despite how innocent and pretty she spins the web to look. after all these years together, you hope to have learnt a thing or two about how to avoid her snare.

“what is blade saying about me?” you quiz. 

she blinks at you. “why so curious if you haven’t done anything?” 

“can i not ask about something that involves my name? besides, he’s my friend, i want to know what he’s saying,” you lean against the back of the couch, trying to calm the involuntary shake in your legs. you despise that the slightest mention of blade can cause a bottomless pit to form in your stomach and it’s not because of how intimidating or threatening he is. 

no, it’s because you’ve fallen for him, hook, line, and centre.

and blade would have to die before you ever tell him.

“mostly just grumbles about wondering where you are,” kafka expands, waving her hands about to match her words. “he asked silver wolf and i if you’ve been talking to us and when we said ‘yes’, he looked pissed! when i asked why he was being a sourpuss, he just stormed off.”

“so temperamental, that man,” she sighs. then, she looks back at you with those half-lidded eyes that have always gotten her what she wants, and in this case, they’re answers. “so tell me, y/n, what did you do to our bladie to have him all riled up like this?”

“nothing. absolutely nothing.”

“are you sure?”

“positive.”

“positive?”

you avoid her curious gaze. “positive.”

“maybe i phrased the question wrong. has bladie done something to you instead?”

panic settles within you. “no,” you lie through your teeth. “he hasn’t.”

“so if i asked you why you left breakfast so abruptly that day, you wouldn’t say that it’s because of him?”

“i had work to do, kafka, you know how busy my job gets.”

“i know, i know,” she persists, “then why weren’t you in a hurry before blade arrived that morning?”

you don’t know how to refute that, letting silence speak volumes instead.

“and why did you skip out on lunch with silver wolf and i? was it because we also invited a certain someone?”

“okay! fine, you’ve got me. what do you want to know?” you explode, tossing your phone on the couch in frustration. 

“so it is about blade?” questions your coworker.

“yeah. it is.”

“what about him? did he do something to hurt you? you know he’s accidentally mean sometimes-”

“it’s not that, he’s nothing but a sweetheart.”

“so what’s the problem?”

“that is the problem! he’s just… he’s him.”

“is that bad?”

“for my heart, yes.”

“oh my- so you like him?”

you exhale exasperatedly, “don’t act like you haven’t already figured that out, kafka.”

the cheshire smile she then flashes sends shivers down your spine. for whatever reason, an oppressive feeling grows in your gut, resembling something like a warning.

“you’re right, i knew,” she flaunts. then, her gaze cuts to look behind you. “but i don’t think blade did.”

your heart lurches out of your chest with enough force to pull you off the couch and you stumble around to see that, lo and behold, blade was indeed standing in the hallway. the expression he wears tells you enough; he heard you, he knows.

kafka somehow sneaks her way out of the room, leaving you alone to deal with the face of rejection. it’s daunting being in the same space as him after so long, you almost forgot about the intimidating pressure that blade naturally exudes and projects in every space he enters.

“hi,” you start, looking away. 

he stalks over to you, footsteps soundless before stopping a feet in front of you. instead of saying something, the swordsman merely gazes down at you whilst you keep your eyes glued to the side.

“can you reject me already? the silence is kinda killing me,” you snap after a few seconds, crossing your arms protectively. 

instead of obeying to your request, blade does something completely unexpected; he very gently lifts your chin with his hand, and red eyes bore right into yours. is it odd to feel seen in your demise? because blade is looking- no, surveying you with such immense focus and clarity that your heart stills, frozen in position because it wants him to see the most picturesque part of you. 

(he sees it, but he wants to know more of you. the pretty, the ugly, the likeable, and the unwanted.)

“would you like to go on a date?” he asks.

© EARTHTOOZ 2023, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.

[lauvgoods]

hey queen could i request a little angsty rafe x reader inspired by the alcott by the national featuring taylor swift

the alcott / rafe cameron

SUMMARY : rafe has a bad habit of ruining the good parts of his life, including you, but you just can't seem to walk away

PARTNERING : rafe cameron x gn!reader

WORD COUNT : 3916

GENRE : angst , open-ended

WARNINGS : unhealthy relationship, drugs and alcohol, a few swear words, one brief mention of sex

A/N : first request! this ran a little longer and angstier than i'd expected, but i really hope i was able to do this justice and give you what you wanted! i also hope you're okay with it being so open-ended

𐙚₊˚⊹ 🦢 “it’s been a long time, but I really need to get some things off of my chest. mind meeting me at the country club? our spot?”

the text is brief, to the point. you wouldn’t expect much more from rafe given that it’s, well, rafe, but it caught you off guard nonetheless. the distance between the two of you has only grown after everything went down, after what he had done, and honestly he didn’t expect you to respond, much less agree to seeing him. then again, you always seemed to be the only one to see the best in him even if he knew he didn’t deserve it. you’d always–almost always forgiven him no matter how horrible he could act. 

rafe is wringing his hands, sitting in his car, trying to convince himself that this will be alright, though he knows that it’s just you at the end of the day. just you? he internally scoffs at his own thoughts. it has never been just you. the one person who truly made him feel alive, like he was a person outside of his mistakes. what was it you had always told him? “you are more than the worst parts of yourself.” you’d never thought of him as a lost cause, not once, but here he is thinking about how best to go about asking for your forgiveness yet again. 

two years of knowing each other, of loving each other, and yet it had all gone to shit. as usual, he knew, all because of himself. 

there’s a pool shack just near the main building, the one where he’d first spotted you, where you’d peaked his interest. rather than out getting a tan or swimming, you were sat in the corner of the building, a fancy little golden notebook propped up against your knees. it was cooler inside, so half of him couldn’t blame you, but he guesses it was that notebook that had caught his attention. a journal, diary, he didn’t much care at the time, but when he sees you in that exact same spot, with the exact same notebook, the biggest sense of deja vu washes over him. he’s stuck there, staring at you, watching you with that pen probably writing in the nicest handwriting you can. you haven’t noticed him just yet, and that’s how he knows that whatever it is, it’s captured your attention and pulled you into a little bubble like always. he isn’t stupid, though, he’s seen it on your socials, you leaning against someone else in pictures, smiling like how you did at the start of your relationship. not like the end, where everything was clear by the dimmed light in your eyes, smile not reaching them in the way he loved. he knows what you’re writing about—or rather who. 

after a few minutes of admittedly creepy staring from him, you feel that prickling on the back of your neck, that itch of eyes watching, and look up to see him. he looks different, cleaner, more alive than he had before, and your breath catches in your throat. there’s a familiar ache in your chest, a bittersweet taste on your tongue, before the corners of your lips turn up into a warm smile. rafe just stares for a moment, taking you in. you look the same, but that light has come back, and that brings him more grief than you’ll know for the conversation he has in mind. 

a couple of steps forward, and he’s sitting across from you. the sunlight coming in through the window washes you both in its warmth, melting the awkward feelings that might have otherwise arisen. there’s this look on his face, one that you know all too well. his jaw is locked tight, hands clenched into fists, and he’s avoiding your eyes. he hopes that you’ll still believe him this time when he talks, but he wouldn’t be shocked if you didn’t. he half expects you to walk out before he can get a word out, a sickly smirk on your face as you taunt him for ever thinking he could get a positive reaction out of you after it all. 

“i’m sorry.” 

it’s clear the words take effort to get out, and your eyes widen as they hit you. you can’t recall the last time he apologized, genuinely apologized. not something half-assed just to move on from another fight so you can fall back into an old routine again. kissing, falling back into bed with one another, walking on eggshells, the party, the inevitable fight, another fake apology. it was a cycle, an awful cycle that you wouldn’t dare break for fear of losing him. the truth, though, was that you’d lost him a long time ago. 

you can read him like an open book, like an instruction manual leading you to all his deepest darkest feelings that he wouldn’t dare let anyone catch a glimpse of. there’s fear, and you hate the way your heart inevitably softens at it all. you don’t reply though, placing your pen between the pages and setting it carefully on the table separating the two of you. you wait, looking directly at where his eyes would meet yours if they weren’t so carefully looking just above at your forehead. he never was good at confrontation, not heavy ones like these anyway. anger he could deal with. you’ve lost count of the number of times he’d punched a wall, or slammed a door, all out of pure rage. guilt is something he’s been quick to bury, whether under layers of other emotions or less-than-healthy outlets. 

“i hurt you, i know that. i did a lot of things i’m not proud of. i’ve–” he cuts himself off with a harsh sigh, tightly clenching his fist. words or conversations like these have never been his biggest strength. “i ruined what we had. the coke, the drinking, the fighting, and then the way i broke it all off, i never should have treated you that way.” 

“rafe, can we please go home? it’s late and you’ve had a lot to drink and i just think you should cut yourself off for the night.”

it wasn’t the first time you’d asked him that night. as a matter of fact, it was the third. still, he looked up at you with an expression that left you feeling small and insignificant in a way that can’t be described. here you were again, killing his high and, as he would probably be saying later, ruining his night as always. you knew, though, that he didn’t really mean any of it. in the morning he’d wake up beside you, pressing kisses to your cheek and apologizing for how he’d acted, saying he would try to get better, for you. 

tears filled your eyes, yet you held your tongue, knowing that angering him during a high would never be a good idea. you weren’t scared of him, knowing he would never lay a hand on you, but his shouting was almost worse than any physical blows. his words lingered in the back of your mind. 

“rafe, you know how much i hate these parties. you always end up high out of your mind and leaving off on my own to hang out with your friends. can’t we just stay in tonight?” you’d asked, eyes pleading while he turned off the ignition. 

he let your worries roll off of his back like water, shaking his head and grabbing your hand to kiss the back of it with that boyish grin you loved. “c’mon, i promise i’ll stick with you this time. promise it’ll just be a few drinks and then we can head back, ‘kay?”

promises, promises, promises. all empty even if he didn’t know it while making them. the moment he’d had two drinks, he had his eyes zeroed in on the table in the corner, and was off before you even knew he’d gone. you stood there in the kitchen, turning in circles, standing on the tips of your toes to try and spot him out among the crowd of partygoers. he’d left you again, and it took you nearly half an hour to find him. of course, the lines of white powder lined up and a rolled dollar bill clasped between his fingers. his pupils were already blown, that dazed look in his eye, and he smiled stupidly at you before waving you over. 

“c’mere, i want you to try this time.”

that one moment would come up in more fights than either of you could have known. 

you never did a single line, walking out on the party the moment he’d started getting annoyed at your lack of interest in the drugs, having a screaming match that same night, and it was one of the first times you saw him cry. fists pressed into his face, crouched down to his knees as he tried to regain some control over his emotions. there wasn’t much rafe didn’t tell you, especially regarding his situation with ward. his father had always been awful to him, never making him feel wanted. you knew that beneath that tough, hardened exterior was a boy who had been left on his own, neglected and never truly loved in the way he deserved. 

“every time i tried to tell you to hold back, to reel it all in, you’d look at me like i was an idiot, rafe. Like i was horrible for wanting to help you. you didn’t just hurt me rafe, you shattered me. you made promise after promise and then broke it all in the same night. it’s like you looked right into my mind, figured out the absolute last thing i wanted you to do, and just immediately went and did it.”

the smile is gone, the warmth from the sun fueling the sudden surge of emotions. your throat feels tight as you finally speak, memories pulling free from that little wall you’d put up, trying so hard to forget it all. to move on. that small ache in your chest seems to have burst, tearing at everything it reaches. there’s a burning in your eyes, but you blink fast in an effort to keep it all in. once that dam breaks, you know it’ll come out all at once and ruin any composure you have. 

rafe feels that spark of guilt erupt into a blaze, and despite the heat outside the cold pricks like needles at his skin. he’s already caught on to that uptick in your breathing, the way your knee bounces under the table even though he can’t fully see it. there’s a slight shake to your fingers that breaks his heart all over again. he’s painfully aware of it. 

everyone had warned you about dating rafe, how he’d only hurt you, keep you as another notch on his belt before going on to the next poor girl. despite the worries lingering in the back of your mind, you simply couldn’t attach that description to the same man you knew. the one that would ask to stay over, fall asleep with his head on your lap, the way he’d look at you like you were the sun. falling for him was like breathing, but when you hit the ground it nearly broke you. 

“i know i lied, and you deserved better than me. honestly, i wish you’d walked away just so you’d be less hurt in the end.” there’s a strained tone dripping off of his every word, rafe’s eyebrows knitting together while his eyes bore holes into the table. “god, i ruined everything.”

your bottom lip quivers, and you know that you’re done for. your vision is already going blurry, and any breath you take feels like it’s coming through a straw. 

“you ever think that you’re my problem? huh? maybe it’s you, not me. you’re always weighing me down, fucking nagging me for attention instead of going out and doing the things i wanna do. i just wanted a girlfriend that would be there for me, you know? listen to me and not try to drag me down. you hear me? you’re suffocating me!”

the words shouted at you as rafe paced back and forth across the empty parking lot were just that. words. he’d wake up in the morning no longer coked out or angry, but even this was a new low for him. as much as you tried to hide them, the tears spilled over. he didn’t really mean it, you knew that. you knew he had trouble controlling his anger, losing his grip, that he would beg you with tears in his eyes to forgive him. but it hurt. the mornings waking up, your body sore from crying yourself out until you were dehydrated and weak, then covering your puffy and red eyes with anything you could just to make him feel less guilty, knowing he didn’t actually believe the things he said. these moments, though, made you feel like a speck. a tiny speck but yet also the most enormous burden to him. you loved him so much it was killing you, had been killing you for longer than you realized.

“you even sound like my sister! ‘rafe, what’s wrong with you?’ ‘rafe, stop it!’ which side are you even on? why don’t you go ahead and hang out with her and all her shitty friends if you wanna say that shit?”

why couldn’t he ever make it easy on you, not even this one time? he’d taken everything you ever loved and blown it all up like a goddamn landmine, stepping on all the good memories that you had of him and forever tainting any other parts of your life when looking back on what your life had been like when you were dating him. you’d given all of yourself over to helping him, to trying to get him to see himself like you did. now when you try to focus on who you’d been back then, all you can remember is what stage with him you were in. that one time you had tried to spend christmas with your family? all you can think about now is how worried you were that he might be out partying and could overdose instead of truly enjoying your time together. 

your entire life had been completely focused both on loving him and on making sure he didn’t completely ruin his. 

“did you mean any of it?”

your voice sounds less like yourself with the way you’re having to hold it all in. it’s then, hearing you, that he finally looks you in the eye. tears are brimming in your eyes, droplets hanging onto the lashes before finally dripping down onto your shirt. your face has grown flushed, your throat painfully dry and constricted. 

“didn’t mean anything i said when i was high or drunk off my ass. you were never the problem, that was all me.” he sounds earnest as he speaks, and you can tell from the way he’s rubbing his hands against his pants that it’s getting to him just as much as it is you. “i was so focused on getting my next fix, but i promise you you were everything to me.”

that’s when the dam starts to crack, the tears flowing freely down your face, starting that itchy feeling on your neck as you try to wipe them with the back of your hands. 

“did i do any good?” your voice is wavering, on the edge of a full-blown sob. “loving you? did i help you any at all while we were together?”

rafe was laid out on the bed, the alcohol having long since gotten him drowsy. he didn’t get high this time, which was likely what had saved you from another fight. you simply didn’t have the energy. looking into the bathroom mirror, you were a ghost of the girl you’d been when you first started dating him. it was valentine’s day, he had made plans for a date and you’d even bought a new dress to wear out to eat. but, of course, rafe had gotten into a bottle of wine, claiming it to be the more romantic decision to start out the evening. the night had gone sour the moment he pulled the two glasses from the overhead cabinet and poured himself a generous amount. 

it was three glasses later for him–you hadn’t had a sip of yours–when he’d stumbled and knocked the entire glass down the front of your dress. 

“i’m so, so sorry, i didn’t mean to i just tripped.”

it was with tears in your eyes that you reassured him you weren’t upset, that you didn’t feel like dinner anyway. what rafe also neglected to realize was how far past the time of the dinner reservations it was. holding back another crying session, you led him up to bed where he promptly flopped down on top of it all. 

standing over the sink, still in your ruined evening gown, tears left tracks in your makeup, mascara running as your shoulders shook, yet you held in any noise for fear of making him feel guilty. every time, you reminded yourself of how kind and good he could be. you told yourself that you knew the person beneath all of this, that you knew that he had so much potential to be better, he just really needed to try and for it to stick. 

“you were the best thing i’ve ever had.”

rafe’s eyes are red, eyes glassy with tears, and you can tell he’s holding it all in. 

“you saw the best in me when no one else did. you didn’t just see a screw-up, a druggie, a disappointment, or a hopeless cause. you just saw me.” 

it’s on that last word that his voice breaks, and the gasp that he sucks in splinters any resolve you have left. you’ve never had the strongest will to walk away, only doing so after he destroyed it all. 

but rafe knew that he was poisoning you, could tell even if he refused to admit it to himself. he’d heard you crying sometimes, seen you through video calls with those puffy eyes, could see the way he was the one sucking the life out of you day by day. rather than trying to fix it or talk to you, or even get real help, he did what he does best. he self-destructed. 

that night, when he’d been calling you the problem in the middle of that empty parking lot, that was where he blew it all up. 

“i can’t do this anymore.”

red-eyed and frozen in place, you looked up at him, feeling like all the air had been sucked from your lungs. you were choking on it. he’d gone ranting and raving, had raised his voice, but never even came close to ending things. 

“rafe, no, you don’t mean that. you can’t-”

you’d started toward him, hoping that you could embrace him, console him, and things would be alright. it was a curse, the worst kind of curse, yet one that you loved because it was him. you loved him with every single part of yourself even if that meant breaking yourself to save him even in the slightest. he, however, put up his arms in front of himself and took a step back, shaking his head. 

“no, i’m done. we’re done. i don’t want to do this anymore with you, ‘cause i know all you want is to fix me. you don’t care about me for me, this is who i am. i go out and i party and i have the time of my life. it’s clear you can’t handle that.”

your breaths came out short, harsh, trying to backpedal and get him to see reason, more panicked than he’d ever heard you. “ro, rafe i promise you i can, i’m so sorry if i made you feel like i don’t really care about you. we can work on this if you just-”

“STOP!”

you were on the verge of sobbing at this point, unable to figure out where it had taken such a turn for the worst possible end. had you thought about walking away? more than once, but you rationalized that you couldn’t leave him like this. 

and he left. he walked away, back into the house party that you drove him to, claiming that topper or somebody else could take him home. he left you there, crumbling into absolutely nothing with the worst pain you’d felt in your entire life, like something in your chest was ripping apart, holding back screams. 

“i need you to help me forget you, rafe, ‘cause i can’t just go on like this.”

your hands come up to hold yourself, rubbing up and down your arms as you cry in front of the boy you loved. you want more than anything to hate him, to be able to just scream at him or tell him how much of you he’d taken. you’ve been trying to build yourself back up, trying to fix that hole in your chest. two years doesn’t just disappear in a few months. loving someone in that way leaves its mark on you, sticks to you like a second skin, comes back when you think you’re finally starting to be okay again and devastates you. it leaves you walking around as a ghost, all this love and no one to give it to because the person you hold in your heart is gone. 

the problem for rafe is, he doesn’t want to forget. he knows he can’t, that in him is that love that he’s tried so hard to bury for both of your sakes, that anything he wants will just ruin any chance of what you’re trying to achieve all over again. 

“i’m trying to get clean,” he says instead, taking in a stuttered breath. “about two months now, 'cause i know how much you hated it.”

the both of you know it, how no matter how hard you try it’s nearly impossible to walk away. it would be better for everyone, healthier for everyone. you can get with that person you’ve been posting, he can find someone that makes him happy without flashing back to every fight if something starts to go wrong. you two won’t risk falling into bad habits, and can be happy individually. 

instead, you open that golden notebook with shaky hands, your pen having held your place, and you turn it for him to read. 

“can you, um, can you read that last sentence out loud?”

he looks at you, eyes searching for some sort of meaning to how quickly the topic seems to have changed, before letting his gaze fall down to the words at the bottom of the page. 

“i’m trying, i’m really trying here, but i don’t know if i can move on from him, not with all that i’ve still got left in me.” he trails off at the end as he seems to realize what you mean, and lets out a slow breath. 

“rafe, i knew from the minute i got that text what might happen. i knew, for a fact, that i’d be falling back in love with you the minute i saw your face.” 

the air is still, a long silence stretching between the only two people in the room. the sun has gone behind a patch of clouds, leaving the room darker. 🕯️⋆˙ᝰ.ᐟ

[kazutora-lover]

Not A Dream It's Love — Feel It

Itoshi Rin x gn!reader

Genre: fluff, angst, best friends to lovers

Summary: You lose who you love the most — or, how you turn your biggest nightmare into your biggest blessing

Warnings: nothing too dramatic I suppose? Slightly ooc!rin?

Notes: Ugh, I don't even know what this is tbh skskskw. This is the first time that I've written something on the angstier side. I genuinely feel self-conscious about this one but oh well, hope someone enjoys ~

"We need to break up."

You couldn't believe your ears. Did Rin, your boyfriend of many years, your fiancé really just tell you that he is breaking up with you? Yes, you had bickered here and there like a normal and healthy couple would, but nothing serious ever occurred and you always made up immediately after. The both of you were way too attached to each other.

You didn't understand. What happened to Rin to want to break up with you all of a sudden? Did Rin fall out of love with you? Did you say or do something so utterly stupid that Rin couldn't take it anymore? But that couldn't be, you would know if you did such thing. For sure.

"Huh? Rin wait, what are yo—"

You wanted to grab him, take your lover's hand into your own and talk it out but Rin didn't budge. His facial expression was unreadable and even if you tried hard enough to look past his facade, you couldn't see anything but determination. He really meant those horrible words you never wanted to hear. Especially not from him. The love of your life.

"I'm breaking up with you, y/n."

You really didn't know how to react. Your lips started to wobble involuntarily and your body began to shake like the loose leafs that hung on for dear life on a windy autumn day.

The way your full name left the lips of your lover in question, hurt you more than you could've ever imagined. Not even a knife to your heart could've caused you such tremendous pain. You're sure it couldn't. All that would be left, was a wound so deep it could never heal and yet it still would've healed better than your soul that came crushing down on you.

Your voice sounded hoarse. It's like you've been crying for hours already and yet it's only been mere minutes. Minutes of trying to figure out what had caused this.

"Why? Please tell me what it is? Did I make you uncomfortable? Did I not give you enough space? Or did someone else do something to make you say this?"

You couldn't help the thoughts rushing through your head. You felt like you were in a rush, one second being left unspoken and Rin would slip away and out of your hands like everything was a mere fever dream.

"Y/n, please don't make it harder than it already is. I don't love you anymore and to be honest, I've stopped loving you months ago."

The dark haired man let out a groan, really not being in the mood for any discussions. He just wanted to get it over with. No disruptions whatsoever.

"While I was with you, I realized that we were never meant to be and to be honest, we probably never have been to begin with. You were just never the person I ought to have. And you can't give me what I need. Needless to say that you've been damn clingy too. Thanks to that because it made me realize things before we were able to get married."

By now your face was drenched by your salty tears. You didn't even realize when exactly they started to fall but your emotions equaled an ocean right now — and oceans are big. Your broken heart in exchange? It got shattered into millions of small pieces.

You were sure no one would ever be able to pick up the pieces ever again. And if someone ever managed to pick up a few, there would be a lot of them missing, still. No one could love you like Itoshi Rin. You couldn't love anyone like you love Itoshi Rin.

"You'll get over it, Y/n. Don't worry about the apartment. I'll get my clothes and the other stuff by next week and then you're free to do whatever you want with the rest. Don't worry about sleeping on the sofa either. I'm sleeping at someone else's place."

It felt unbelievable how Rin didn't show the slightest tinge of emotion. He said those things with a tone so normal, you would think he was about to congratulate you on whatever happy ending you just achieved.

Rin began to disappear out of your vision but you couldn't move your body. You felt trapped, paralyzed and helpless. Screams of Rin's name left your lips but it was to no avail. The man you loved slipped right through your fingertips.

You must've been gone for a little bit because when you opened your eyes, you were greeted by a rather worried pair of eyes that stared right back at you.

There they were again, those teal eyes you loved so much but wait — what was Rin doing, sitting next to you?

With a voice as raspy as it was before, you called out for the very man by your side. "Rin?"

Rin sighed in relief at the sound of your voice and placed one of his slightly cold hands on your forehead. "Y/n for fucks sake, you need to stop doing that. Stop pushing yourself when you're sick. You've got me worried shitless."

You on the other hand couldn't quite grip what was happening. Rin was calling you by your nickname. The name only he used for you. Then you took a look around and slowly came to notice that you were in your room, resting on your bed with Rin right by your side.

Before you could stop yourself you blurted out, "Say my name again. Please?"

Your best friend took a good look at you at first but obliged nonetheless, though a little hesitantly, ".... Y/n?"

That's it. You were having a fever dream. None of that shit you dreamt about was real. You know it because you and Rin aren't even a thing. You aren't engaged nor are you dating. You're just .... friends. You're STILL friends.

Before you even understood what was happening to you, hot tears began to roll down your cheeks and not even a few seconds later, two soft hands engulfed your warm cheeks to wipe the salty droplets away.

That was all it took — all it took for you to shoot up and draw Rin in for a hug. A hug you desperately needed. Because even though you were aware of the fact that none of the events you just went through were real, you needed to feel Rin's warmth, his body, his heartbeat and the fact that he wouldn't slip away again.

The latter was at a loss for words as he stumbled forwards messily and right into his best friend's arms, yours. He immediately felt that something was wrong. Something felt different and it was a first for Rin to feel disheartened.

While the dark haired man opted to tighten his arms around you, he couldn't help himself to ask, in the softest voice he could muster, "Y/n? You wanna talk about it?"

It took Rin a few seconds, seconds way too long for his liking until he received a response. It was quiet and muffled and accompanied by occasional sniffles but he understood it nonetheless. "No need, it was just a stupid nightmare."

A low sigh escaped Rin's lips as he spoke, his voice dangerously close to your ear. "You know you can tell me everything, right?"

A shiver ran down your spine at the way Rin talked to you, cared for you. After realizing that you've been spacing out again, Rin squeezed your torso in assurance.

"I know. Thank's Rin."

But deep in your mind, you had a different answer.

"No. Not about this one."

A few days have gone by and you were good to go again. All thanks to your friends who stopped by multiple times a day to make sure you took care of yourself. Or more like, for them to take care of you because they knew how whiny you could get at times of their absence.

In the moments you were alone, you had enough time to think about what happened in that hellish nightmare of yours. You were almost convinced that your dream wanted to tell you something.

Would it be better to keep your feelings to yourself? All bottled up? Should you just move on and forget about Rin? You still have him as your best friend, right? Maybe that's as close as you'll get but at least you won't lose him, ever.

You felt the uneasiness creep up again because you actually planned to confess your feelings soon. Now? You weren't so sure anymore....

This time you were at home at Rin's place. You guys originally planned a movie night with some of your shared friends, or more like only your friends, as Rin only endured their presence because of you. Turns out the other's had different plans all of a sudden. So you went to Rin's alone. At least you could watch whatever you wanted, as the two of you weren't as picky as the others were.

While Rin sat on his sofa and got comfortable already, you sat on the floor in front of the tv, ready to choose whatever movie you would watch. "Rin, wanna watch a horror movie?"

You wriggled with your eyebrows and Rin couldn't help but laugh at you. "Yeah? Let's watch one Y/n, bet you'll end up crying like a baby."

You loved to hear Rin laugh, it's so beautiful and melodic. Melodic it was indeed because it stopped before you got to enjoy more of it, "And come sit on the sofa, are you trying to go blind down there so close to the tv?"

Turning your head to look at him, you threw him a little smirk, "You're one to talk, aren't you?"

A scoff and an eye roll later and he told you to finally sit down with him or else he wouldn't allow you to ever sit down on his sofa again.

When you asked him why, he had told you that the floor was dirty. Jokes on him though because.. did that mean that his place was dirty to begin with?

He didn't take it well when you told him that.

More than an hour later and you guys were fully engulfed in the movie. Well, you were. Somehow.

Rin didn't understand what exactly it was that captured your interest, as he thought the movie was way too boring and predictable. His interest though, laid upon you and you alone.

He watched as your eyes flickered from one corner of the tv to another, analyzing the actors movements with caution and reminding yourself under your breath that whatever you were seeing wasn't real.

Rin found it amusing how you always claimed to like horror movies but still got scared of them by the end anyways. And suddenly he felt like being mischievous as his arm found its way around your form to give you a surprising squeeze.

A big jump and one loud shriek of yours later and you found Rin next to you, chuckling. And even though you would've enjoyed the sight of him enjoying himself, you almost emptied your bladder right then and there.

A soft but exaggeratedly shaken sigh left your lips as you spoke, almost breathlessly, "Rin for fucks sake, you scared me."

The man in question shot you a deadpan look and raised a brow, "Yeah? Wasn't me though, your imagination must be playing tricks on you. How scary."

Another sigh left your parted lips and almost involuntary, your secret got spilled, in a voice as quiet as a whisper.

"Not as scary as my feelings for you."

And Rin heard. If the background noise of the tv was loud seconds ago, it was as quiet as a pin dropping to the floor when you spoke. And his eyes followed every single movement of your lips as to make sure that he's not the one imagining things now.

For him, the movie and everything else around him has been long forgotten. It's you he's interested in and he's going to make sure that this time, he will make his next step your new reality.

You don't have to be scared of your feelings if they're reciprocated, right?

At least that's what Rin believed, as his heart had found its place in your palms long ago.

[munsons-hellfire]

Hi there!! i saw you’re gonna start writing for acotar! can i request a helion x reader where it’s a double date but theyre both like no we’re just third and fourth wheeling nbd but maybe there’s an ulterior motive somewhere to get them to realize their feelings for each other??

We’re Just Friends | Helion

SUMMARY: You and Helion are oblivious to each other's feelings until you arent.

PAIRINGS: Helion x Reader

CONTENT WARNINGS: SFW, fluff, angst.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: You have no idea how excited I was when I got this request. I had come up with two ideas for this and ended up going with the more angstier version because I loved it so much. I also added a little more to it because I wanted to build something between the reader and Helion. I hope you enjoy this as much as I did writing it. Thank you for requesting for Helion, he is one of my favorites from ACOTAR so I had a lot of fun with this!

WORD COUNT: 1.7K

You’d been a member of the Night Court since you were born. With friends such as Rhysand, Cassian, and Azriel you were able to escape Illyria before they had a chance to clip your wings. You’d found your family became of those three males. You were an emissary to the Night Court, often traveling between Courts to form a bond to have an ally in any future war. The Autumn Court and Spring Court were courts you often avoided if you could.

You knew the history between Rhys and Tamlin and couldn’t stand the male. You didn’t get along with Beron in the least. Always trying to defy what he wanted to do. One High Lord in particular had caught your attention. Helion had taken the opportunity to get to know you, he’d befriended you and whenever you visited his Court it was hard for your friends to separate you from him.

Before Amarantha happened they could see the love that was there between you and Helion. Rhys kept quiet, as did the others but they knew something would happen between you and Helion eventually. When they were trapped Under the Mountain and you were locked up in Velaris everything had changed for you. You’d become a shell of your former self and even when Prythian had been free at the hands of a human who risked her life in the process and died, you still hadn’t managed to pull through.

The months leading to the return of Rhys you started seeing Helion again, slowly but surely becoming yourself again. It was even more of a reason that Rhys and all your other friends believed that you and Helion were mates. But there wasn’t time to say anything right now with a fight on its way. The war had been fought and won. Rhys had died in the process only to be brought back.

Everything seemed to be right in Prythian. After the way you’d stayed with Vassa and Jurian to help rebuild whatever was left standing. You’d found a friendship with the two, and eventually Lucien when he joined them. Upon returning back from the work you’d helped with in the Human lands Helion had requested that you become his emissary for the Day Court.

Helion had seen how much you’d managed to accomplish in the months after the war against Hybern was over. He knew you’d be a great addition to his court, he also knew you’d look better in Day Court colors. After a talk with Rhys and Feyre, your High Lord and High Lady you had their approval. You said your goodbyes to your family, promising to come visit whenever you could and you left.

It had been 10 years since the events of the war. Things were steady now. You had everything you ever wanted, accepted you knew there was still something missing from your life. When Feyre and Rhys invited you and Helion to join them in Velaris for an outing, you couldn’t say no to them. Helion had agreed, though there wasn’t much you’d have to say to convince the male to go with you.

He enjoyed being wherever you were, so if you want to go see your family he’d follow along with you. The night had started out wonderful, you and Helion had met up with Rhys and Feyre as a casual get together, but they had other plans in mind. The mated couple was going to get you and Helion together by the end of the night. They still didn’t understand how either of you could’ve gone this long being so oblivious to the fact that you and Helion were in love with each other.

Helion couldn’t bring himself to admit it, he was afraid to lose you as a friend or worse to someone else. Meanwhile you were afraid of his rejection. He was a High Lord after all so he’d have every right to say no to you if you’d so much as mention your affections for him. The four of you sat at a table in a restaurant in Velaris. You’d given Feyre an odd look when she had mentioned that this was a double date.

You had finished your food, your eyes were on Helion as he talked to Rhys and Feyre about something. You weren’t sure what he was talking about. You’d been so focused on his face that his words slipped right through your ears. You blinked, finally taking notice that all eyes were on you. Suddenly you felt as though you’d miss something.

“Oh, you did, sister.” Rhys whispered in your mind. You glared at him, throwing your shields up to block him.

“I’m sorry, what are we talking about?” You asked softly, not looking at Helion, afraid that you’d disappointed him by missing something so important.

“I was just wondering if you’d be coming to see the rest of the family later tonight, maybe bring Helion.” Feyre said, her eyes planted on you. A smirk rested on her lips. You knew that she was having a mind conversation with Rhys.

“Oh, I’m sure Helion wants to head back home soon, so maybe another time.” You didn’t miss the way Helion had smirked at your comment.

“Nonsense, I think we can stay a little bit longer.” Helion remarked, a smile on his lips. You gripped your drink, sipping the wine slowly.

“Great.” Feyre said excitedly.

“Maybe we can even get you two together.” Rhys said, causing you to choke on your wine. You put your glass down, attempting to stop the coughing fit.

Finally you were able to get words out. “We’re just friends, Rhys.” You said, and it was a simple answer. Feyre and Rhys had caught the look of hurt that had crossed Helion’s face when those words had slipped from your lips.

“Yes, we’re just friends.” You winced, it was almost like Helion had been hurt by your choice of words. You felt you couldn’t breathe, you were being suffocated by everything around you. This was not what you’d expected to happen tonight.

“Excuse me, I need some air.” You were quick to get up and leave the restaurant before any of them could protest. The cool air hit your skin when you walked out the door. You walked down to the bridge that overlooked Velaris and the Sidra river.

More than anything you wanted to be with Helion, you knew you’d been in love with him for so long. So why did your words affect him so much, you were so certain that he didn’t feel the same way about you. That you were just an Illyrian female he wanted to bed. Your wings moved in closer to protect you from any passersby as you let the tears fall down your face.

“So that’s what I am to you, a friend?” His voice was cold, distant as the question left his mouth.

You didn’t answer, couldn’t answer. Not when you were still crying over what had happened. You should’ve known that Helion would chase after you.

“I didn’t mean it to come out that way.” You said, pulling your wings back and tucking them in tightly as you turned to look at the male.

“Then how did you mean it?”

“I just, I mean we are friends. There’s nothing between us so why does it matter?” You were really hurting him, you knew that.

“Because.” He whispered softly.

“Because isn’t an answer.” You watched as he walked closer to you, closing the space between you and him. His hand gently touched your cheek. You looked at him with a glimmer of hope, of love in your eyes.

“Because I love you, I have loved you since I first met you. I have loved you since I discovered you were my mate. And I will continue to love you until it is my time to leave this world behind.”

You felt your heart picking up its pace at his words. You could hear the honesty coming from him. And then it happened, you felt it, that gold string tie around your heart. You gasped, your hand flying to your chest as you felt the strength of the bond pick up between you and Helion. Finally he smiled, still looking at you.

“But all this time, you, you were seeing other’s.” You felt yourself cracking waiting for his answer.

“It was just for a fun time. I may bring other lovers into our bed, but they will never be able to replace anything. I fell for you, my sunshine. You are the light in my life that I’ve been waiting so long for.” You released a broken laugh, tears falling down your face. “Please don’t cry my love.” He whispered as he kissed the tears away.

“I’m just so happy.” You whispered, pushing your hands into his wavy hair. “Because I've loved you since the moment I met you too. And I am so thrilled to be your mate.” He smiled at your words and brought his lips to yours kissing you softly. Cheering could be heard in the background. You and Helion pulled apart from each other to look at your family that had been nearby.

“I think it worked, Feyre, darling.” Rhys said, as the mated couple walked towards you and Helion.

A smile rested on your lips and you pushed yourself closer to Helion as he wrapped his hand around your waist. It was the happy ending you’d been looking for, your mate. And now that you’d discovered everything that happened between you and him was the bond’s way of informing you, you couldn’t be more happy.

“I hate you all.” You whispered, resting your head on Helion’s chest.

“I don’t think so. If it hadn’t been for them inviting you to dinner neither of you would’ve known.” Cassian remarked, a smirk playing on his lips.

“Not true, General. I’ve always known about the bond.” At this you looked up at Helion.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” You asked him.

“I didn’t want to risk our friendship in case I was wrong, or the Mother was wrong, or something happened. So many reasons, and I just don’t care because I have you now and that’s all that matters.” He placed a kiss on your head.

“No more lies, promise?” You whispered.

“No more lies, I promise.” The bargain was set, a slight sting of pain ran through your forearm as a bargain tattoo was crafted. The night sky mixed with the sun. A bargain between you and your mate. The happiest of endings, one you were so thankful for.

[fandomsandflyingstingrays]

If you want an angstier prompt/don’t have too many others, how about Callum and Rayla comforting each other in the aftermath of their captivity aboard the Sea Legs?

Oh I am always up for some Finnegrin's Wake-related angst, thank you so much for the prompt!!

Rayla expected Callum to smile when she pulled back from their hug, to see the relief coursing through her body reflected on his face. Instead, his expression was… blank. It sent a jolt of confusion through her before her brain found the explanation. 

Shock. Of course he was in shock, he’d been beaten— and he must have been terrified—

Rayla stood. “I’m going below to get some medical supplies. Finnegrin must have a stash of something that can fix up your face. Not that it needs fixing, it’s still quite handsome, it’s just… well, it looks like it hurts.”

She glanced at Callum, her face hot, but his still countenance didn’t crack. He just nodded.

“…Okay then. I’ll be back in a jiff.”

Rayla squeezed his hands and stood, making her way to the stairs that led belowdecks. She had just reached the first step when Callum’s voice stopped her.

“Below? Wait, no— Rayla!”

She shook her head, continuing down the stairs. “It’s really no trouble,” she called back. “I’m sure I can find something.”

“No— wait!”

It was the desperation in his voice that stopped her, a tone far more agonized than that of someone who just wanted to spare her an inconvenience. Did Finnegrin have more crew members down here she wasn’t aware of? Was Callum afraid she’d see what he used to torture him?

A hiss echoed down the dark hall, and Rayla tensed, grabbing her blades. She squinted in the darkness, trying to make out the source of the noise. Had Finnegrin tortured Callum with some kind of electric eel?

“Rayla,” Callum hissed. “Just— come back up here. Please.”

She shook her head. “I’m not afraid of whatever he’s keeping down here, Callum. Whatever it is, it’s never going to hurt you again.”

Another hiss drew her attention back to the hall. Two slithering figures emerged— were they really eels? No… snakes. Snakes with glowing green eyes.

Familiar eyes.

Rayla cut both their heads off in a single motion and turned to Callum, stumbling back when she realized he’d reached the bottom step. He looked from the bodies to Rayla and opened his mouth, and she tensed instinctively, trying to figure out how to respond to whatever he could possibly say. 

But instead, he burst into tears.

Heaving, open-mouthed sobs wracked his entire body as he sank to the floor, crying in a way she hadn’t seen him cry since he had found out his stepfather was dead. The force of it reopened the cut on his lip, the tears coursing down his cheeks mixing with the blood and falling in pink drops to the floor.

“I— know— I— shouldn’t— have—" he gasped between sobs. “I knew the ocean arcanum, I understood that I— I shouldn’t try to control everything— but you were screaming, and screaming, and then you stopped— and I couldn’t— I couldn’t lose you— and that makes me as bad as them, as Claudia and Viren, I know it does, but I—"

Whatever he was going to say next was drowned out by a round of tears that left him no breath to talk.

Rayla expected to feel the insidious, bone-chilling horror she’d felt the last time she’d seen him do this: rip the life from a magical creature in order to give life to a set of chains. She expected the righteous fury of knowing he’d crossed a line he absolutely shouldn’t have. But none of it came. All she could feel was a heaviness settling over her shoulders, her chest, sinking her to the floor beside her mage with an overwhelming sadness— and gratitude.

I’d do anything for you, he’d told her, and he had proven it. This was a person who loved absolutely, who cared about her so profoundly he would carry a guilt this deep forever for her. And yet— the thought didn’t scare her. It wasn’t the same obsessive love that had consumed Claudia, and as she wrapped her arms around him, she desperately searched her mind for the words to make him believe that.

“Callum,” she murmured as she thought, “I just need you to breathe for me. Nice and slow. Can you do that?”

She felt his nod, and took a deep breath to demonstrate, setting a pointed rhythm until she felt Callum’s chest rise and fall to match it.

“Good. Now.” She let him go to place her hands on his shoulders. “How did Claudia react the first time she did dark magic? Do you remember?”

Callum furrowed his brow, clearly confused about why she was asking, but answered in a small voice. “Well, she was sick for a few days.”

“And then?”

“She was… giddy. I remember her dancing all through the halls of the castle, talking about it to anyone who would listen. She was so happy she could do magic, so proud.”

Rayla nodded. “I thought so. And Viren? Did he ever seem unhappy after doing magic?”

“Not that I can recall.”

Rayla squeezed his shoulders. “But you hate it. Yes, you did it, and it was bad— but there isn’t a single part of you that feels empowered by it. That’s what makes you different than them. All of you have done things for love that you regret— but you never once tried to justify it to me.”

Callum let out a long breath and nodded. His head slumped against his chest for a long moment before he raised it again, finally meeting her eyes.

“Can you forgive me?”

She let go of his shoulders to shove him lightly. “Well, let’s see. You just saved me and all our friends from an evil pirate. We’ve established that you regret using dark magic and never, ever want to use it if you can help it. Beyond that, you risked your life to find a spell to free my parents even though one of them killed your stepfather, you let me live in your castle for weeks, and you forgave me for being stupid enough to walk out of your life for two years.”

Callum managed a small smile, and Rayla cupped his chin in her hand, drawing his head close enough to rest her forehead on his. 

“We’re good, Callum. You’re good. I promise.”

He let out a long exhale, leaning into her touch. “Okay,” he whispered, his voice stronger.

“That being said,” Rayla said, drawing back, “if you want to make it up to me, you can let me patch up your face.”

“I thought you said it was handsome.”

“And imagine how handsome it’ll be when it isn’t covered in blood.” She stood and offered him her hand.

Callum took it without hesitation, allowing her to pull him to his feet, and finally, he gave her a full smile. 

[moonflvver]

That Kaeya drabble about him finally being loved was absolutely beautiful. Do you mind if I ask for something on the angstier side of the spectrum - maybe like some headcanons on reader picking up on Kaeya's avoidant nature, getting worried, then reader finally admitting that they're worried that Kaeya will leave them, despite the many, many attempts reader has tried to show him that he's loved? And then the reader basically laying out that if Kaeya leaves, it's fine, but that reader will never forget, and will always, always be in his corner? (Now I really want to C6 Kaeya now to make up for all the angsty pain.)

character: Kaeya Alberich x reader

warnings: angst with a tiny bit of comfort sprinkled in because I'm not a monster.

a/n: I'm so glad you enjoyed my little drabble! And as a Kaeya main I feel you, I hope I can c6 him too one day. T-T

w/c: 707

The two of you have been together for a few months now, but despite this it still feels like there’s some sort of distance between you and Kaeya. A distance that he has intentionally put into place.

You’re not quite sure what he’s so wary of, he doesn’t talk about his past much but you know that he struggles to be able to put his trust in others as a result of what he’s been through. 

You also know that he’s terrified of being abandoned by you. That much is clear when he wakes up in a cold sweat one night from a nightmare, looking at you with pure desperation and clinging to you as you try to lull him back to sleep. 

You love him, you really really do. So you make sure that he knows you don’t plan on ever leaving him. Whenever he wakes up from a nightmare you’re the one who holds him tight and strokes his hair until his breathing evens out and he’s able to close his eyes again.

You’re the one who’s consistently by his side. Always there for him to lean on, always there to offer him reassurance that he can trust you.

But it’s hard. He doesn’t make it easy to get close to him, and there are days when the distance between the two of you feels infinite. And in these moments it’s you who fears being abandoned by him. It makes your heart ache, you’ve tried so hard to show him that you love him, to show him that you’re here for him but it just never seems to be enough to get through to him. You don’t know what to do anymore.

The whole situation comes to a head when he finds you sobbing in your room after he comes by your apartment unannounced. 

You can hear his voice saying your name as he walks closer to your room, and you’re quick to wipe away your tears and say, “Come in.” And even though you were crying just a few moments ago right now you feel angry. Both at him, and at whoever it is that did this to him. Because it just isn’t fair. The walls he puts up seem to only be getting higher and higher, and it doesn’t look like there’s any way for you to break them down. 

He’s not sure how to approach you, so he just stands in front of your bed and quietly asks you if you’re alright. The question itself almost sounds like a joke coming from him, so you tell him as much.

And you’re really not trying to raise your voice but the dam suddenly breaks and all of the emotions that you’ve been repressing suddenly flow out of you. “It’s just not okay Kaeya. You can’t keep doing this.” You mumble, he looks like he’s about to open his mouth to say something but you cut him off, “I care about you, I really do. It’s more than that honestly. I can truly say that I don’t think I’ve ever felt this way about someone. I know that you’ve dealt with so much, and I’m not asking you to fix yourself instantaneously for me. But I need you to at least recognize that I’m here. I’m not going anywhere, and if you want to leave then that’s fine by me. But you need to know that I’ll stay by your side for as long as you allow me to. Because there’s nowhere else that I’d rather be, and there’s no one else that I’d rather be with.”

He stands there awkwardly for a moment, his mouth falling open slightly. But then he’s rushing towards you, wrapping his arms around you and putting his head in the crook of your neck. 

You can feel his tears falling onto your shoulder but it doesn’t matter. He’s mumbling, “I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry,” into your skin. And you sigh a breath of relief. He's here, he's staying. Kaeya pulls back for a moment just to look at you, and you offer him a crooked smile while you wipe away his tears with your thumb. 

The two of you can talk about this in the morning, but for now it’s enough just to have him in your arms.

[kingofthering]

thinking about your beautiful rosquez fake dating au.... is it a public thing? like are they the motogp royal couple here (INSANE time to be in the paddock lol. and oh GOD the breakup) or is it strictly a performance for their friends/family? (also insane for marc specifically. that man cannot lie to alex ever change my mind) like i cant stop thinking about it...

I was thinking performance for their friends and family but with a couple of things to consider [because I never make my life easy, do I]:

my considerations of this kind of depends of the span of the fic and how long they are pretending before going into the actually dating phase [I think Valentino probably freaks out (mostly because of what Marc said) after that first time they sleep together and then putting it short : he ghosts Marc, Marc confronts him and they start hooking up regularly and then there is another big family thing (maybe Christmas if the fic started in the summer) and Valentino forgot he was supposed to fake break up with Marc at some point and anyway, they figure their shit out, the end] [divorce still happens in 2015, see you in 2024 for the reconciliation]

but in the grand scheme of things, they're only doing this to trick Valentino's mom (and like, all the aunts and uncles and everyone that gets involved after the dinner and the baby shower) (oops, things are getting out of hand, it's fine Valentino, it's fine) so that's the only thing they both have in mind when dealing with the secret

now, who was present at the ranch that summer to hear about this? probably the Academy kids that were all in either Moto2 or Moto3 at the time — do they really have to interact with Valentino's family and eventually lie to them? eh, I'd say it's a possibility, and does Valentino trust those teenagers to lie for him? absolutely not, does he trust them to keep their mouth shut about his relationship with Marc if he sat them down and told them it was important? yes, much more (and like, who would believe them in the paddock anyway, him and Marc together? please)

I think Luca can be the big joker/question mark here, on the one hand Valentino would feel shitty making Luca lie to his mom but on the other end Valentino feels shitty lying to Luca, so, 50/50 on that one for now

which means, that in my mind, Marc doesn't even have to bother about his side of the family, I fully agree with you that that man cannot lie to his brother and honestly, he would probably already spill the bean when his stay at the ranch gets extended and Marc asks him why on the phone

technically, could Valentino's mom talk to Marc's parents and fuck things up? I suppose, if I want to make my life annoying, that it could be a possibility, but I don't think Valentino's mom was in the paddock often so I'm just gonna eliminate that issue for this one universe [and like, could she have their number? also yes maybe in a universe that would be annoying to me]

in the grand scheme of things, Marc is agreeing to this 10% to help Valentino and 90% for personal selfish reasons and because in theory, this doesn't have any real flaw/annoyance for him, right? — do I think that he would have felt comfortable lying to his parents? absolutely not, I do think that would be quite interesting to explore in fic but again, making my life easy here [the whole "Valentino can put on a performance act while Marc is an open book to people who know him" of it all]

Now, to come back to that first option, the first thing that came to mind was a forced to come out scenario, especially if it happens because of leaked photos of them hooking up when having hate sex in say, 2016. Way angstier in the beginning but then it's indeed "what an insane time to be in the paddock" in a good way after they've fixed things.

[admittedly I don't always see how going the "yes we're gay but we're in love" way is better PR management than "our private lives should have never been hindered, that's all we have to stay about the matter" but, you know, fic purposes]

I think it could actually bring quite a different aspect to their dynamic in that scenario because if this is 2016, Valentino is 37 (9 titles and could technically retire with a long well-done career) and Marc is 23 (4 titles, still an immense way to go in his career and so much potential to explore).

Of course the whole thing affects Valentino but he honestly believes he can survive that whatever way and ignore the bad people and focus on keeping the same life, he'll be fine. Marc will say that he's not affected by what people say about him (and only on track things matter) but I don't think it's that easy, especially back then, especially after all the backlash he got post-Sepang, and when he puts his own 2015 anger aside, I think Valentino can recognize that as well.

It's Valentino looking at Marc seating next to him in the Yamaha/Honda (whichever) motorhome, watching the way Marc's knee keep bouncing at lightning speed, the lines of his face harsh, his eyes pointed on a far point on the wall. It's Valentino shutting his brain down and going "Yes, we'll do that, where do we start".

[purecantarella]

Settle the Score

day 7 yall and this one is significantly shorter since i had a couple meetings today that drew on longer than i thought they would HAHAHA but i still didn't want to disappoint so here we are!! i hope you all enjoy this one 😁 moon byuli x reader x ahn hwasa disclaimer/s : not as explicit but has suggestive content, minors i suggest finding some flufflier or angstier content

Moonbyul and Hwasa often butt heads and compete over the tiniest things. While some arguments were bigger than others, the two rappers would always come together in the end. This one though…short to say it was a civil war between the two since the day the found out you’d hooked up with both of them in different periods of their lives.

You’d met Moonbyul shortly after their debut and were immediately taken by her charms and wit, with a few dates under her belt she took you to bed in a night of intense passion. But upon finding out that you would be working with her in the same company, you broke off the budding relationship without much of an explanation. Much to Byul’s dismay.

As for Hwasa, you two met and hooked up by chance while she and Wheein snuck out during their training years at a club. You were both drunk and sloppily fucked in the bathroom, returning to your apartment only to wake up alone the next day.

It took them both by surprise when they saw you preparing their make-up for a music video shooting. You on the other hand tried to remain professional, unaware of the spark you lit between them.

It was all passive at first, until one day push came to shove and they wanted to know which of them you enjoyed the most.

Taking advantage of Wheein and Solar having their unit videos being shot for their promotions, both rappers corner you in the secluded dressing room.

“Come on, Y/n…It’s all just a bit of fun…” Moonbyul husks in your ear from behind you while Hwasa lingers beside you, her dark eyes already raking over you like a piece of meat. You shudder under both their fierce and fevering gazes.

You laugh nervously as Moonbyul trails your arm up and down with her on-stage swagger only adding to the temptation. “Yeah, no one’s going to get hurt. We just want you to settle a little dispute we have going on.” Hwasa adds before her signature sinful smirk pulls at her lips, “But if memory serves me right, you loooove getting hurt.”

Moonbyul feels a rush of jealously when Hwasa says that, the youngest’s lips already pressing against the apex of your jaw. Your head tilting to the side to give her more room to offer you ecstasy. The oldest unrelenting takes you by the waist, grinding her front into your ass and rubbing your sensitive skin as she did. “Byul, Hyejin…” You whimper as their persistence never wore out.

Both their low and sultry voices ushering you with calming words made you break to their demands. You turn to face the oldest of the two, catching her off guard, wrapping a hand around her neck. A hot flush coating your cheeks, “If it’s to settle you both…”

Moonbyul’s lips are quick to take yours in a loving yet rough manner while Hwasa took the opportunity to strip you of your clothing, leaving your body at their mercy. Both their eyes hungrily take in your figure, excitement and arousal filling all three of you.

Moonbyul takes a step away from you to nudge at an equally dazed Hwasa. “What’s all this fighting for? I think I’d be satisfied just hearing Y/n’s glorious voice again…” She pauses to look at a smirking Hwasa. “How about we focus on giving this gorgeous woman the best time of her life.”

You gulp thickly as you watch helplessly adjust their positions, the youngest sliding behind you, her hands kneading your ass like dough, and the eldest kneeling in before you, tongue poking out hungrily. Hwasa’s lips are on the shell of your ear again as you moan softly, her movements turning rougher and rougher as the seconds pass. “I couldn’t agree more.” Her hands slither from your bottom to your tits, taking special care of your nipples as she did. Your head falls onto her shoulder as she does.

Moonbyul smirks at your spaced out expression, “To hell with settling the score then.”

With that, she dives into your center, with Hwasa muttering the dirtiest things into your ear as Moonbyul took her sweet time lapping up your center. You cry out, gripping both their heads, silently begging for more.

Short to say, they’re schedule was delayed by at least an hour, much to the dismay of the company but to your pleasure.  

a little shorter than i would have liked but i am writing this rather rushed this time 🥹 i'll do better tomorrow everyone ))): in any case, i love you all so, so much!! i hope you're all keeping safe and i will see you all tomorrow!! - r

[katareyoudrilling]

Construction Corner (AU Joel Miller x Female Reader)

Episode 4: Marcus & Teresa

Fandom: The Last of Us/Pedro Pascal

Pairing: TV Host Joel Miller x divorced Female Reader

Summary: You deal with a difficult homeowner situation that stirs up some feelings.

Word count: 2.2k

Rating: Explicit (18+ only. NO MINORS)

Content Warnings: Alternate Universe, cameos galore, inaccuracies about tv show production, filming, and construction, a bit of angst, oral sex (m and f receiving), unprotected PiV (conversations have happened offscreen, be safe!)

A/N: This episode got a bit angstier than I originally intended, but I’m really happy with how it turned out. I am playing very fast and loose with canon for this cameo.  Reader is divorced and in her late 30s but is otherwise a blank slate.  I hope you enjoy!

Comments and reblogs very much appreciated!

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Something is wrong.

Yesterday, you chalked it up to nerves.  It wasn’t unusual for homeowners to freeze up a little in front of the cameras on the first day of shooting, but they usually got over it quickly.

Today though… you don’t think it’s nerves.

You met newly engaged couple Marcus Pike and Teresa Lisbon a few months ago at their casting interview.  Marcus had surprised Teresa by buying a house for their future family.  The two of them stared lovingly into each other’s eyes and laughed as they recounted starting a renovation project that quickly got out of their control.

Their project was just right for the show slot and their love story was sure to be a hit with viewers. It was a no-brainer booking.

Maybe it shouldn’t have been.

Watching them now, Teresa looks like she would rather be anywhere else but here.  She stands woodenly next to Marcus with a pasted-on smile that doesn’t reach her eyes.  Since filming began yesterday, she has only offered one-word answers as she robotically goes through the motions of the show.

Marcus, on the other hand, is overly enthusiastic.  His eyes shine with manic energy, while his smile is too big, too bright.  He has the look of a man trying desperately to hold things together by sheer force of will.

You recognize both of their expressions.

You’ve seen them in the mirror.

Suddenly it’s not the sun making you feel too warm.  You excuse yourself and retreat to the shade and privacy behind one of the crew trailers.  You sink into the cool grass and rest your head back against the trailer, allowing painful memories to crest over you and then recede.

Joel finds you there a few minutes later.

“Everythin’ ok, sweetheart?” he asks gently, lowering himself to the grass next to you.

You lean your head onto this shoulder.

“Yeah,” you sigh.  “Just… memories.”

“Not happy ones, I’m guessin’?”

“Not really, no.”

“I don’t know what’s goin’ on with those two, but it ain’t good.”

You lace your fingers through Joel’s and stroke his knuckles gently. His strong, work-roughened hands make yours look even softer and more delicate.  You love the contrast.  You sit side by side for a few quiet minutes admiring how your hands fit together.

“Just have to get through the rest of today and tomorrow and hope it’s salvageable,” you sigh.

“I reckon it will be.  I’m layin’ a floor.  There are sure to be extra shots of my rear end.”  You bury your face in his shoulder to stifle your laughter.

“You’re a good sport, you know.”  You rest your chin on his shoulder.

“I do know,” he says, giving you a kiss on the forehead.

“I can’t wait until tomorrow night,” you say, looking up at him through your lashes.  His warm, chocolate brown eyes a soothing balm to your aching heart.

“Neither can I,” he rasps.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

You spend Friday morning on the phone confirming material deliveries for next week’s shoot.  When you arrive at set after lunch, Patty, the director, makes a beeline for you.

“We have a problem.”  Patty doesn’t mince words.  “Teresa stormed off, Marcus followed after her, we need to get them back to finish this thing.  Joel is setting up to film his bit on installing quarter round, but I need them soon.”

You take a deep breath in and exhale slowly through your nose.  The cast wrangling parts of your job as producer were usually fun – getting to meet new people, hear their stories, and make their houses beautiful – but today wasn’t going to be one of the fun ones.

“I’ll take care of it,” you assure her as your make your way in the direction she indicated.

You find Marcus first.  He’s pacing on the side of the house, tugging at the back of his neck, tension rolling off him in waves.

“Hey, Marcus,” you start, tentatively, “what’s going on?”

“I don’t understand,” he turns to you looking panicked, his tidy brown hair ruffled and eyes wide, “I’ve given her everything she wanted.  Why is she upset?”  He runs his hand through his hair and drags it down his face.

“Let me talk to her,” you pat him soothingly on the shoulder.  “Why don’t you get something to drink and try to relax for a bit.”

Marcus bobs his head in agreement and makes his way toward the craft services table.  You continue around the back of the house and spot Teresa at the back fence.

You make your way over and lean on the fence beside her.

“It was all so romantic,” she says, looking into the distance at nothing in particular.  “I don’t know what changed or when… am I crazy for not wanting this?”

“I don’t know,” you answer honestly.  There are no easy answers and you are in no place to give them even if there were.

You both stand in silence watching leaves fall from the trees.

You hate what you’re about to say, but it’s your job to say it.  “I’m really sorry I have to ask this of you, but we need to finish filming the show.”  Her shoulders visibly slump.  “There’s only the reveal left, then we will be out of your way, and you can figure things out with Marcus.”

“You’re right,” she sighs.

“I’ll go find him and tell him that you’ll explain later.  You can take a few more minutes.”  She nods and you make your way back towards the house – and Marcus – with a knot in the pit of your stomach.

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

“Is there anything you can’t do, Joel Miller?” you tease as you push your empty plate away from you.  He met you at his door with a glass of chilled white wine before presenting you with a dinner of grilled chicken and angel hair pasta with tomatoes, basil, and parmesan cheese.  It was absolutely delicious and just what you needed after the tense afternoon on set.  “It’s really not fair that you can cook too.”

“I can make a few things, but I’m no chef,” he replies, blushing to the tips of his ears.  “I’m glad you liked it.”  He stands up from the table.  “Come watch the sunset with me.” He beckons you to follow him to the couch.

You sink down beside him and lean your back up against his broad frame with a sigh.  “What a day.  I just feel so sad for both of them.”

“I know.  Better now than later though,” Joel murmurs against your hair.

 “True.” The warmth of his body seeps through your blouse and you snuggle in closer to him.  The two of you sit in relaxed silence watching the sky turn orange and pink through the window.

“I know we had plans tonight, but I don’t want…”

“I am ok.  I promise,” you assure him.  “It was… difficult… watching them and reliving some of those memories, but I’m ok.  I am so much happier now.  And not just because of this,” you squeeze his thigh, “I was happy already.  You’re a bonus.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” He nuzzles at your ear and drags his nose down the side of your neck, sending shivers down your spine.  He places a kiss at the juncture of your shoulder before kissing his way back up to your ear.

You moan and melt into him.  He seems determined to go slow, building your desire bit by bit, and you’re tempted to let him.  It’s definitely working.  But when he takes your earlobe between his teeth you snap – it’s too much.  Slow is overrated.  You spin yourself around and up onto his lap, straddling his thighs.

You swallow his sounds of protest as you take his mouth in a bruising kiss, panting when you finally come up for air.  You lift the hem of your shirt up over your head and toss it aside, revealing your favorite yellow lace bra.

“You’re… sunshine…” Joel breathes reverently, staring up at you with lust blown eyes, hands full of your ass.  You start unbuttoning his shirt.  “I said I wanted to take my time with you,” he argues as you spread the soft fabric wide, revealing his chest and stomach.

His body is strong from a lifetime of hard work.  Every muscle earned and used, not just for looks.  But my oh my does he look good.  The planes of his chest glow in the soft light filtering in through the window.  Beautiful.

“I know you did, but what about what I want to do with you?” you wink as you drag your fingernails down his smooth skin watching goosebumps rise in their wake.  He gasps as you scrape over his flat nipples.

You slide off his lap, onto the floor between his legs, and start unbuttoning his jeans.

“You… you don’t….” You quiet him with a look.  His chest rises and falls rapidly as he watches you free his thick, heavy cock.  You take him in your hand and stroke from base to tip, swirling a drop of precum over the head with your thumb.

You watch Joel watch your movements, jaw dropped and panting, and you smile with how good it feels to make him feel like this.

You follow the path of your hand with your tongue before taking him in your mouth as deep as you can.  Joel’s broken moans and curses spur you on.  Each drag of your mouth along his length stoking the fire of arousal burning in your belly.

You lose yourself in the desperate whimpers that escape his throat.

You feel powerful.

You are painfully turned on.

“Fuck… I… wait…”  Joel pulls you up, crushing your mouth to his in a desperate, messy kiss.  Tongues swirl, teeth bite.  He cups your jaw in his hands.

“Sweetheart… Sunshine… I could take you right here on this couch,” he pants.

“Why don’t you then?” you challenge him. He levels an assessing gaze at you.

“My back hurts,” he says seriously, and you dissolve into giggles.

“I’m sorry,” you say, trying to control yourself.  Joel’s eyes crinkle as he fights to keep a straight face.  “To be honest, my back probably wouldn’t like it either.  What are we going to do instead?”

“I’m taking you upstairs, laying you out on my bed, and having my way with you,” Joel rumbles.

Your laughter dies away as heat floods your core.  “Yes, please.”

Joel strides purposefully up the stairs, pulling you along behind him.  His bedroom is decorated in burnt oranges, dark greens, and reclaimed wood.  It’s distinctly him.

He unwraps you like a present, worshiping each newly exposed bit of skin, until he has you bare and spread out on his bed.  Just where he wants you.

The first swipe of his tongue through your folds has you levitating off the bed.  He soothes you back down with firm hands on your hips until the tension leaves your body and you melt into his ministrations.

It’s never felt quite like this before.

When you come, he stays with you, riding the waves of your pleasure with his tongue, until you are still and boneless.

The scrape of his beard on your skin brings you back to your body.  He hovers over you, filling your vision. Strong arms cage you in, pouty lips press to your sternum, tendons in his neck stretch as he positions himself between your legs.

“It’s been a long time,” you whisper as he notches his weeping cock at your entrance.

“For me too,” his dark eyes meet yours.

You nod and he presses inside slowly, deliciously.  He splits you open inch by inch and you stretch to welcome him.

He buries his head in your neck with a broken curse as he fully sheaths himself inside of you.

You run your fingers through his hair and down his shoulders and back, reveling in the power you feel holding this man in the cradle of your body.  You rock against him, and he begins to move with long, languid strokes.  Each ridge and vein dragging lusciously against your walls.

You meet his thrusts, pulling him deeper into you, chasing friction in the slippery place where your bodies meet.

You fall apart for him in a haze of sensation, and he follows after you with a stuttering moan.  You stay wrapped in each other, breathing each other in, as the moon rises outside the window.

You drift off only to be awakened by calloused fingers ghosting across your skin, a request whispered low in your ear, pleasure like you’ve never experienced soon coursing through your veins as you press your face into his cool sheets.

The sun rises with him curled around your back, cupping your breast in his warm hand, your top leg thrown over his as he buries himself in you.  He presses kisses to your shoulder blade as you whimper your way to yet another release.

Joel wasn’t kidding that he wanted time.

When you wake up to him offering you a mug of coffee as he sits on the side of the bed, the sun already high in the sky, you’re pretty sure you’ll give him all the time he wants.

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

A/N: This episode’s cameo comes to us from The Mentalist.

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[ripeteeth]

20 questions for fic writers

Thanks for the tag, @another-lost-one!

How many works do you have on ao3?

106, all in. (105 under ripeteeth, 1 orphaned)

What's your total ao3 word count?

966,792. God, I'd love to hit 1 million before the end of the year, but that's extremely unlikely.

What fandoms do you write for?

Way too many. The main are: The Terror, MDZS, Disco Elysium, Harry Potter, Good Omens.

What are your top five fics by kudos?

Salinity (And Other Measurements of Brackish Water) [Good Omens]: 3094 how a resurrection really feels [Disco Elysium]: 1479 Vigil Strange [The Magnus Archives]: 1266 the art of asking your boss for a raise [Succession]: 1154 no son of mine [Beyond Evil]: 993

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I try to, but I get easily overwhelmed and sometimes don't. I feel awful about it, I'm so sorry. I am so grateful for every comment, truly.

What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I guess it depends what you consider angstier? I have some centered around grief and loss and some focused on fucked-up relationships and characters continuing to make choices that hurt them. It's kind of cheating to say Asterius is my choice, considering that I haven't published the end of it yet, but anyone familiar with the story of Theseus and the Minotaur should hear the beat of the story I'm telling there.

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

For some reason, I think it's either The Passion or How A Resurrection Really Feels. A believable happiness feels the most relatable to me, and two middle-aged, damaged-but-still-here-godammit men finding a bit of comfort in the midst of all of it just feels right. Like a comfortable boiled wool jacket just a little big in the shoulders. The one that smells like your father's cologne. That kind of warmth.

Do you get hate on fics?

Yeah. It was really bad for awhile, and was the main reason I left Good Omens and turned off comments and orphaned Salinity. I'm pretty desensitized to it now.

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I write pretty much only smut. I don't know what I'd categorize it as other than that tbh.

Do you write crossovers?

No, never felt the interest.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

No, I don't think so.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yeah! It was a really cool experience and I felt really honored.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No. I've tried to but I'm terrible at it. It doesn't help that I've had terrible writer's block for the past several years though.

What's your all-time favorite ship?

I have no idea how to answer this. All of them I've ever shipped?

What's a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Revachol Calling. God, I want to finish it so badly. There was a very specific something in me while I was writing it, and then a lot of everything happened. Anyway, I've lost it, that je ne sais quoi. I started replaying Disco Elysium again recently, so maybe it will come back. Here's hoping.

What are your writing strengths?

Imitation. Hearing the music in a sentence. Being fascinated by everything and bogging the reader down in necklaces of useless fact.

What are your writing weaknesses?

See above, turn it up to eleven.

Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?:

Not unless I'm reasonably fluent and confident in the language.

First fandom you wrote for:

Ghost Story, for Harry Potter, first posted in December 2018. It's surreal to think that it's been five years. What a strange five years.

Favorite Fic You've Written?

Either Revachol Calling (for Disco Elysium) or Blood, Bones, and Butter (for MDZS). I think there's something deeply personal about Revachol Calling that both makes me struggle with it but also resonate the most with it.

For Blood, Bones, and Butter, it was one of the more fun fics I've ever written and I really enjoyed being able to add layers to what the reader knew by simply adding an additional viewpoint, kinda triangulating their messy beginning through three men who are each extremely certain that they're correct. (Yeah, I'd watched Rashomon recently, why do you ask). That's the fascinating thing about songxuexiao for me, each of them is so certain they've got the others all figured out, but they're also all holding back aspects of their own interiority.

Either way, they're both important to me.

Tagging: @pearwaldorf, @et-in-arkadia, @danpuff-ao3, and anyone else who likes!

[deyisacherry]

Now our Rainbow it's gone. — Sun and Moon drabble (before Ruin events)

(Read with the song in background for an angstier experience!)

Moon returned to the daycare, and Sun takes control. He saw it all. He saw Moon go after the kid. He thought that he could stop him, but it was impossible. Whatever that woman in the rabbit suit did to him, he couldn't resist it.

Maybe the brat broke his only rule, but… no, he didn't want this. Hunt a little one, hurt Freddy. He had enough and had to go into rest mode to keep himself away from seeing how much more damage they would cause.

They would be decommissioned, this time he was sure. Discarded, thrown into oblivion. Because they were dangerous.

The children would not return. He wouldn't hear their laugh anymore, would he? They would not trust him again. His only duty was to be a good daycare attendant, and he couldn't do it.

Moon will never be the same again. He doesn't even talk to him anymore. He can only feel the violent impulses and terrible thoughts of him coursing through his circuits. He doesn't know what to do. He doesn't know how to help.

He deserves it. He deserves to be decommissioned, he deserves to be erased forever. He-

… The lights begin to dim and brighten again slowly. He hears strange noises, far away, but loud.

Suddenly, he feels the ceiling shake, the floor the same. The lights fail more and more. The song on repeat in the background is distorted and choppy. His rays recoil in panic.

He looks around nervously, hands clasping each other fidgety. What else could be happening now? What is all this? Why is this happening to them?!

His body starts to writhe, he can't stop it, Moon tries to get out, the darkness is forcing him, but there's still enough light for him to keep control. His rays retract and come out, over, and over, and over again.

Finally, debris begins to collapse, falling into the play structures, destroying everything it falls on. Including some generators. Lights flicker like from a horror movie. Sun freezes for a few seconds, until he feels Moon being forced to take control again. He squirms, scratching at his faceplate hard, more strength than he's applied before. This is the last thing he needed. No, no, Moon is not okay, all he will do is risk them more.

Dizzy, he blindly backs up to the wooden doors, crashing into them.

The ceiling lights also fall, explode… and start a fire. The daycare is dimly lit and that does not help to keep his change with Moon stable.

Their endo jerks hard. Moon is struggling to get out. Mixed screams and groans, heartrending, come out of their voice box. Their pants change colors in a confusing pattern, their faceplate spins, as Sun holds some of his plastic rays, about to break them.

The fire spreads, slow, but dangerous. There are no smoke alarms. There are no emergency exits. Not here…

Suddenly, Sun's left eye loses vision. He is no longer in control. His other arm also begins to move against his will. He can feel Moon's cap settle on his head, the ray at the tip of it threatening to pierce the starry fabric.

They don't know what's going on. They are afraid. What is this? What's wrong with them? Why does it hurt? Why can they feel something like pain?

Sun feels Moon's aggressiveness increase. His voice growls almost animalistically, his hand coming up to his side on his faceplate with strenght. Sun wobbles.

“Moon!”

The yellow hand grips the blue arm, tries to stop him. The blue hand tugs at their faceplate. He wants to tear. He wants to stop. He doesn't want this.

“Moon, stop, you're- you're going to break our-!”

Moon tugs again and they can both hear the crack of plastic material giving way.

In their shock, they didn't notice that the fire was reaching them. Sun was still holding Moon's arm. The body of both is thrown back strongly, back hitting the doors that cannot be opened.

“Moon, please!” The other robot responds with another angry noise.

Suddenly, Sun notices smoke coming from below them. Their pants are burning, and so will their leg. Sun flails in a panic, but can't get his balance if Moon continues to control half of the body.

"No! No no no! Fire! Fire!-” They fall prone to the ground heavily, electrical spasms running through their entire endo. The yellow half is completely paralyzed, when he sees a large piece of debris begin to fall in his direction. He turns his face away. He doesn't want to see…

Then part of the rubble crushes almost half of the leg that was being burned.

There's no pain, no…

But there's fear. So much fear. Maybe that thing stopped the fire on his leg… but part of the daycare is still going up in flames. They don't want to burn anymore, they don't want to melt. They don't want to cease to exist like this.

After seconds, they both manage to move at the same time, trying to free the stuck leg. They creep forward, but it's not enough.

They rotate their torso together, and pull on their leg. Stronger, even more.

With a clang and unpleasant noise to them, the leg is freed from the rubble… barely. Only one part has remained, but the other part, the one with their foot, was left under that thing…

They are startled when something in the daycare catches fire aggressively. They must flee, leave, now.

… But they can't. They are forced to stay here. It's in their programming, in their code. They can't stop it.

While Sun remains paralyzed by his side, Moon tries to check that their wire still works. And when he hears the sound of the wire going down towards their hook, he forces Sun to move their body to hold on properly and be lifted up quickly.

A yellow hand holds onto the saving object in panic, while the blue hand holds onto it tightly. Their legs, what's left of them, gathered up, resembling being in a fetal position. The smoke is blinding and overwhelming in the daycare, they feel like they are living what the kids call… a nightmare.

And suddenly the fear of the little ones makes sense to them.

The wire moves and takes them to the balcony of their room, where there is still no risk.

They fall weakly onto the platform. It's dark in there… Moon takes full control, but Sun can still see.

Both can see.

So many things that keep falling. Fire melting and destroying.

Sun is in so much pain. So much sadness. The colorful site shrouded in darkness, rubble, fire. No more kids… no more arts and crafts… no more fun, no joy.

If the opportunity to return to do what they loved so much was already distant before, now it is… impossible.

Their home, all they had left… wasting away in…

Ruins.

[unrequitedloveletter]

Hello !! Could you write platonic Matthias x squaller reader where they grew up together and were best friends until the reader just disappeared. Years later Matthias finally reunites with the reader who’s now working with the crows. They explain that they ran away due to the fear of being a grisha in fjerda and because they couldn’t bare the thought of Matthias finding out and turning on them. Thank you <3 - 👾

Lost- Platonic! M.H x gn! squaller! reader

Hi, purple alien emoji anon! Thank you for sending this in--I don't write for Matthias very often so getting the chance to do was definitely a bit of a treat!

On another note, though, requests will close around the end of this week! I have the close date for thursday right now but I'm leaning more toward friday because it feels more uniform in my brain so yeah! Send in anything and send in as much as you want--I've finished up with the first draft of my current WIP and I have been itching to focus on fanfic writing again

Fic type- this is hurt/comfort! There's a bit of an angstier element here too, though, and it does get a bit fluffier near the end

Warnings- death is mentioned a bit, burning bodies on a pyre is mentioned a few times, there's a mention of dying in the permafrost (it's not directly referenced--matthias calls it losing the reader to the permafrost)

As Matthias Helvar approached the top of the Ferolind, his eyes keenly watching the crew he'd been broken out of prison to join, he found himself listening to a voice that sounded all too familiar--much too familiar for his tastes.

It was the voice that had belonged to you--the person who had once been his best friend. How long had it been since you'd last seen each other? Two years? Three? Matthias had lost count.

He'd not seen you much in the heist, which confused him, but he was glad that all was said and done regardless. All of it was exhausting, and trying to help Nina as she went through everything with the parem was turning out to be exhausting still, too.

His hands had been freed of the shackles they'd once worn, but still he rubbed at his wrists in something that almost felt a little like habit.

He looked in the direction of the sound of your voice hesitantly--carefully, as you gave a response to Kaz regarding something about something else. Matthias barely cared to listen when Kaz was speaking with regards to anything other than Fjerda or the letter declaring Matthias' freedom, so he'd missed out.

You were manning the sails and keeping the crew forward moving as you left the icy waters of Fjerda behind you and escaped on the tail end of disaster. It was a relief that was palpable--everyone was feeling it as they all stood in various spots on the deck.

"I think I'll be sleeping until we get to the harbor once we've reached Ketterdam waters, honestly," you said with a laugh. "I've only really been able to practice this stuff for two years--I'm not nearly as talented or as comfortable in my small science as someone like Nina might be. I thank you for your patience."

Kaz only waived a dismissive hand. "I'll bring you a bit of coffee--Inej says that Specht is brewing a pot in the lower levels."

Matthias watched you grin, watched you watch Kaz walk away. Your gaze turned to Matthias and you jumped, causing the sails of the boat to ruffle.

"Is this real?" Matthias asked. "I'm not seeing the ghost of my childhood best friend, am I? I know that being around this bunch might bring me a bit of mild hallucinating, but there's just no way. It makes no sense."

You sighed, glaring at him just a bit. "Druskelle," you said. "I've thought about this moment a lot since everything happened. I've tried to figure out whether the emotion I felt in the regard of the thought was excitement or anxiety. It seems I've found myself within a lethal mixture of both."

"I thought you were dead," Matthias said. "For two years, I have thought you died, Y/N. What happened? Why did you leave? Grisha have save spaces in Fjerda. Dozens of them according to the networking that I saw before prison."

"Thats completely irrele--Matthias. Druskelle are in Fjerda," you said. "Being Grisha in Fjerda is dangerous because in Fjerda you are not the blessed like the Zemeni believe; your small science is not considered a gift, not treasured or celebrated like it is in most Ravkan towns. In Fjerda, if you are Grisha, you are the wicked; your death is celebrated, not your life, when they put you on a pyre and burn you for the misdeed you committed by existing. The things that you saw before you were imprisoned were not real. They were fake networks to get Fjerda to attack it's own military bases in the assumption that Grisha were waiting close by. I couldn't--once I realized that I was a squaller I left. I went to Ketterdam and I found myself in the Barrel, and here we are now."

"You didn't just leave," Matthias said. "You disappeared. I thought you had died, that something had killed you."

"You had joined the Druskelle when I decided it was time to go," you said. "I thought you would've hated me for the fact that I am a squaller. You were my best friend, Matthias. I couldn't bear the thought of it but I couldn't figure out how to leave so I thought that I should just go. Go before I could register that I had left my life behind."

"You thought that I would turn on you?"

"You had just joined the ranks of the Druskelle," you said, turning finally to spare him a glance. "Am I really the one who is to be blamed for such a thought process when you joined the largest organized group that remains actively hunting Grisha down, burning them on pyres in false trials, and leaving the bodies for their families to find?"

Matthias silenced himself. You made a good point.

He stayed with you on the top of the Ferolind for a long while, neither of you saying much of anything as Matthias took to watching the sky as the sun began to set and the stars that lit the sky up began to show themselves.

"If it helps," he said. "I am glad that you survived. I do not know what I would've done had I gotten word that you'd been lost to the snow and died amidst the permafrost."

You grinned. "I'm glad you're still kicking around," you said. "I bet Nina is, too, the way she looks at you."

Matthias gave a shake of his head and the silence settled again, though that time it was plenty more comfortable to stir in than the first.

[galwithalibrarycard]

Hello, how r u? Soo, I just discovered love little losers (I was a huge fan on nmtd, but didn't know about lolilo). And I love your blog, thanks for keeping the fandon alive. Argh so, Freddie, does she gets better? Cause she's a little bit annoying. Pedro and Balt, I'm jumping out of my sits for them, the backslash? Really. I'm so excited to see more beadick. Anyway, I just wanna vent, thanks for the blog

I’m good thanks, hope you are too. And thank you! I’m definitely not the only one still here keeping the fandom alive, there’s still a few of us out here, but I appreciate the love! 😁 it’s nice to know people are enjoying my posts still!

We’re actually having a small resurgence in the tags with new people watching both series, which is fun. Those people inspire me to keep posting too, it’s all full circle.

I am… not really sure how to prepare you for lolilo tbh. It’s a loose adaptation of Shakespeare’s Love’s Labors Lost, and it’s a lot heavier and angstier than NMTD for one thing, so be warned. Pedrazar is a very slow burn, be prepared for a journey! I liked Freddie right away bc I relate to her anxious energy, but you might take some time to warm up to her, that’s fair.

I recommend you head to @beatriceeagle and check out the series of Lolilo meta analysis posts she made with her sister a few years back. It’s a show that trades in subtext and has a lot of important stuff go down offscreen. Reading the metas really helps give a more thorough understanding and insight into the characters and why they behave the ways they do. It might help you understand where Freddie’s coming from, and the others too.

As far as Beadick, I’ll tell you they will break your heart, but it will be put back together again. If you need more of them, the missing offscreen moments and development of their relationship are kind of my specialty in terms of fanfiction. I wrote “the world is too quiet without you nearby”, a 16-chapter fanfic covering the time period between NMTD and Lolilo when Bea and Ben are in a long-distance relationship (plenty of fluff to pad the descent into angst). I also wrote “And We Are Finally Home”, a fic that covers the Beadick relationship arc from the lolilo episode “Confrontation” on through the end of the show- and I WILL be finishing and posting the epilogue to that fic as soon as I can, but you can read the chapters that are already up and still get a pretty complete story there. You don’t have to read them, but i wanted to share because I’m proud of them and I think they’re a good companion to the show if you like Team B! Mind the tags, but there shouldn’t be anything in the fics you can’t handle if you can handle the actual show.

The most important thing you might not get from the videos themselves: it’s canon from the creators that Benedick and Freddie and Balthazar are all dealing with anxiety disorders of some kind, though the creators didn’t actually intend to write that going in- it just happened that they agreed with the fandoms interpretation later on. So everything Ben does is colored by anxiety constantly telling him that he’s too much and that no one likes him and the only thing he’s good for is a laugh- and the (false) worry that Bea is getting sick of him and can’t wait to leave on her travels to get away from him. He’s trying to keep people from leaving him. Freddie is the way she is because she’s desperate for control in life, it’s the only way she feels calm. And Balthazar is petrified of confrontation and retreats into himself when he’s stressed. A lot of this is covered in much better depth in the metas I mentioned, but I wanted to let you know. Not as an excuse for any of their actions, but as an explanation that might make it a less frustrating watch.

I hope that answer wasn’t too overwhelming. I am just incapable of being normal about these webseries and especially about Benedick Hobbes (look, you don’t simply forget the character who got you through your own social anxiety diagnosis, and this is the obsessing-over-fictional-characters website. I talk about other things too, I promise! xD)

Anyway, thank *you* for allowing me to share some thoughts right back! I hope you enjoy Lolilo! 😊💖🦩

[chuuyasfanboy]

Just a really quick rules post! Covers what you can request, who I write for, etc!

General Rules:

I write sfw and nsfw! I'm also totally fine with writing both headcanons and full scenarios, depends on what you request and how I'm feeling abt writing at the moment! (Also open to alphabets + matchups!) Obviously don't request the basic shit (r4p3, 1nc3st, p3d0philia, weird fetishes and kinks, etc.), but other than that, go wild! I have nearly no triggers and the angstier the request the better. There's a reason I like writing Dazai.

Empty blogs immediately blocked

The list of fandoms + characters with change as fixations change and I get familiar with more characters! So keep an eye on it...

Masterlist

Fandoms:

Bungo Stray Dogs: Open

I actually haven't finished bsd yet, season 3 + an absurd about of spoilers- I plan on finishing it soon, but I have read the entirety of Beast guys request Beast guys I love Beast so much guys please request Beast...

Any characters not on these lists are ones I'm barely familiar with personality wise and want to catch up on before writing them.

Characters I write sfw + nsfw for: Some I'm more confident in writing, others I'm unfamiliar with due to fixations taking me elsewhere. But all of these characters are both familiar enough and OF AGE lol

Dazai Osamu

Chuuya Nakahara

Doppo Kunikida

Ranpo Edogawa

Edgar Allen Poe

Fyodor Dostoevsky

Nikolai Gogol

Characters I write only sfw for: Either I'm not too familiar with the character and don't feel confident in portraying them, or they're a minor- or they're Oda/Fukuzawa and I refuse to corrupt my father guys (Until further notice)

Oda Sakunosuke

Yukichi Fukuzawa

Akiko Yosano

Atsushi Nakajima

Kenji Miyazawa

Junichiro Tanizaki

Kyoka Izumi

Ryuunosuke Akutagawa

Ichiyo Higuchi

Gin Akutagawa

Kyusaku Yumeno

Ango Sakaguchi

Characters I WILL NOT write for: Will be mentioned in other character's sections simply for plot reasons- but you know why I wont write them lol

Mori Ougai

Elise

Genshin Impact: Open

My Genshin fixation has mostly died down, but there's still some hype left for these characters! I'm definitely familiar with more characters, these are just the ones I like writing!

Characters I write sfw + nsfw for:

Albedo

Diluc

Kaedehara Kazuha

Shikanoin Heizou

Thoma

Venti

Wanderer/Scaramouche

Xiao

Dainsleif

Aether

Kaeya

Characters I write only sfw for:

Bennett

Chongyun

Diona

Fischl

Razor

Xingqiu

Identity V: Open

COMPLETELY forgot about Idv, but the next postman S is coming soon and I will have it! So in honor, I've added it to my list<3

Characters I write sfw + nsfw for:

Victor Grantz

Aesop Carl

Norton Campbell (Hunter and Surv versions)

Luca Balsa

Andrew Kriess

Ithaqua

Characters I write only sfw for:

Demi Bourbon

Edgar Valden

Ada Mesmer

Emil

Michiko

Joseph Desaulniers

Xie Bi'an

Fan Wujiu

Robbie White