the bolter 🪐

. 19 ˙ ٭ all's fair in love and poetry ୨୧ ˙. ٭

[lizziesangel]

⚕TOM RIDDLE (SDE) - masterlist⚕

lizziesangel masterlist - GO HERE FOR TAGLIST

SOULMATES DON'T EXIST

SUMMARY: Everything changes for you when Snape gives you a certain memory. will you be able to do the task that Dumbledore has given you?

CURRENT WORD COUNT: +58k

CONTENT WARNING: Soulmate au! (soulbound), time travel au!,

STATUS: Ongoing

⚕ Part one

⚕ Part two

⚕ Part three

⚕ Part four

⚕ Part five

⚕ Part six

⚕ Part seven

⚕ Part eight

⚕ Part nine

⚕ Part ten

⚕ Part eleven

⚕ Part twelve

[peonyjuu-commissionopen]

What's the point of tagging "x reader" if you're just going to write about your oc

I thought tags was supposed to filter posts that actually piqued your interest

[layla4567]

💙Stress out💙

Sanji x fem reader

Summary: The cook seems to have reached his limit and is behaving strangely, your job will be to make him understand that he needs to rest.

Warnings: fluffluffluff (and one swear word lol)

A/N: This is inspired by a headcanon I saw that said that Sanji uses his customer service voice when he snaps, here is (sorry, I hope you don't mind that I used your headcanon for inspiration)

Wc: 2k

You were on the deck near Nami's tangerine trees, concentrating on sewing Luffy's vest. It was very common for you to help the crew in any way you could. Since you didn't know how to fight very well, you dedicated yourself to sewing, washing and sometimes you even helped Sanji in the kitchen, although never cooking, that was his job, you simply handed him ingredients or went to the market to buy new spices.

And speaking of the cook, you sometimes wondered when he took breaks, if he ever did. Sanji was an excellent chef, always creating new dishes, one more exquisite than the next. But… you cared about him, more than you cared to admit. He was almost always locked in the kitchen (when he wasn't on a mission) and as much as he put his heart and soul into doing what he loves, sometimes it's good to take a break.

Deep in your thoughts, you didn't notice Zoro coming out of the kitchen until you heard him slam the door and grumble under his breath. You raised your head in surprise and he fixed his gaze on you.

"Let's see if you can get that idiot to be his old self again"

He then went to his room to polish his katanas. You looked at Nami, strange and confused. It was very common for Sanji and Zoro to fight all the time, most of the time over stupid things. But this time it felt different. Nami was about to get up from her seat to talk to the cook when he came out of the kitchen.

"Ladies are advised that food will be ready in a few minutes"

His face didn't have the usual flirtatious smile, this time he was serious and his tone of voice was cold. You looked at him worriedly while you felt your heart sink a little. He had never treated the crew with such indifference before, something was wrong with him. You looked at Nami almost desperately, in your eyes there was pleading and help.

"Follow me, let's see what's wrong with Sanji."

She took the lead and you followed behind her. When you arrived, Sanji was standing with his back turned, chopping parsley. You could see his muscles were tense through his striped shirt. Sanji had heard them come in, but Nami cleared her throat.

"Hey, is everything okay?"

The blonde didn't even turn around. "Yes. Can I help you with something?"

You two looked at each other, now Nami was worried just like you. Sanji was far from fine. You sensed that he was behaving that way because he was reaching the limits of his energy, if he hadn't already. Nami leaned closer to your ear.

"This is worse than I imagined. Talk to him, he will listen to you."

You nodded, swallowing, and she gave you a reassuring wink before walking away. Now you were alone with him. You slowly approached the counter, feeling uncomfortable because you didn't know how to make him understand that he needed to stop working.

"Sanji...?" you said timidly

"Yes, miss?"

You closed your eyes, he wasn't making it easy.

"Uhmm.. a-are you sure you're okay, do you need me to help you with something?"

You expected him to turn around but he seemed to still be focused on what he was cutting.

"Yes, miss, don't worry. I'll let you know when lunch is ready."

That was all? No pet names like "dove," "love," or "sweetheart." Those were the nicknames you pretended you didn't like, but now that he wasn't saying them, you realized how much you adored them. You took a breath with courage and touched his arm cautiously. You felt his back arch slightly.

"Seriously, Sanji, I'm worried about you. You're not okay. Please, if you could tell me."

Those words and your soft fingers on his bicep finished disarming him. Sanji swore he melted like a sugar cube in water. He dropped the knife as he rested his hands on the counter and hunched his back, as if all the accumulated weight and stress were rocks resting on his shoulders. You walked around the counter and stood beside him, rubbing his back gently, Sanji let out a soft moan. Only then did he realize how much his back hurt.

"I'm so sorry, sweets. I didn't realize how hard I was working…"

Finally the cook turned his body towards you to see you better, he had a tired look although his usual smile wanted to peek out from the corners while his shoulders were slumped. You gave him an understanding smile

"You know what you need now? A good rest. And a real one. Let us take care of you."

Before he could reproach you put a finger on his lips silencing him.

"No, don't say anything. I don't want to hear any buts. Come."

You took him by the hand and led him to a couch near the kitchen. He sat there obeying you like a puppy waiting for his next command. You gently pushed his torso so he could lie down. As you did so, he let out a sigh of relief, the pillows beneath him were soft and helped with his aching muscles.

"Okay, now stay there and don't move. You always take care of us, let us return the favor."

Sanji couldn't help but smile tenderly as he gave you a warm look that contrasted with his cold blue eyes.

"Thank you, dear. You're a sweetheart."

Ah. There it was again, that adorable nickname. You were starting to feel your face burning so you quickly smiled and quickly turned to the kitchen to make him some tea.

Luckily you already knew where all the ingredients were in the kitchen, you spent so much time in there just admiring Sanji's cooking that you practically memorized where he kept things. You tiptoed open the cupboard door above your head and pulled out a jar full of dried chamomile flowers.

You opened another door and pulled out more jars of dried mint and linden leaves, perfect for calming nerves. As you moved gracefully and quickly, Sanji kept his eyes on you, feeling a great warmth as he watched you take care of him with such interest and concern. As you waited for the kettle to boil, you turned your head to take a quick look at the blond, he smiled sweetly at you and you couldn't help but feel butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

You approached him and knelt down to check on him. He looked at your face, studying it. Instinctively you ran your hand through his hair, caressing it. He closed his eyes, sighing at the delicious sensation, feeling his body relax even more.

"Thanks~" he purred

You giggled softly, biting your bottom lip. You studied his face as well, his platinum blonde hair soft and silky over his forehead, his thin lips and straight nose. Your hand moved down a little and with the tips of your fingers you traced lines over his cheek towards his chin. Now Sanji had opened his eyes and was looking at you curiously. You got lost in his blue eyes. Blue like the sea, the sky, sapphires. You could think of any pretty blue thing and it still couldn't compete with his eyes.

The cook gently took your hand and kissed it, first on the palm and then on the back. You leaned a little closer to his chest, always smiling just like he did. You tilted your head a little, looking at his lips. He of course noticed and smiled openly, revealing his white teeth. Was everything perfect about him? Or was it just for you? Sanji also approached your face, massaging your cheek with his thumb, occasionally pushing aside a strand of unruly hair that got in the way of your face and prevented him from seeing your unique beauty.

Your eyelids threatened to close as you continued to stare at his mouth and he seemed to do the same. You parted your lips and as you were about to get closer a sharp whistle startled you. You turned your head, steam was coming out of the kettle, it had already heated up enough. You clumsily mumbled an "I'm sorry" and stood up to pour the tea. Now your movements weren't delicate, they were nervous and hurried.

"One sugar cube or two?" you asked before bringing him the cup.

"One please, I don't need more sweetness if I have you"

Oh fuck me

The cup shook in your hands and you almost dropped the sugar cube to the floor when you heard him say it. You gulped and let out a nervous laugh as you wiped your sweaty hands on your clothes. Sanji obviously knew what those words had done to you and he enjoyed it with a smile that made his eyes crinkle. With the utmost concentration you could, you carried the cup to him, balancing it while you tried to calm your breathing, but you risked your heart bursting in your chest if you saw him, so you were careful to only look at the cup and your hands. He stood up to grab the object, but not before brushing his fingers against yours, which earned you a slight shiver.

After blowing on the liquid to cool it, his lips slowly moved to the edge of the cup and you couldn't help but stare at his mouth, hoping you wouldn't look like a pervert. At first Sanji frowned slightly at the temperature of the tea but then his features softened and a sigh of happiness escaped his lips. He tried to find the right words to describe what he felt.

"It is very comforting, thank you my dear"

A wide smile of relief spread across your face as you felt your shoulders relax. Cooking wasn't your strong suit and even though you had spent many hours watching Sanji cook it still seemed like a complex skill to you, but you would definitely put your best foot forward to make someone feel good. At this moment Luffy stormed into the kitchen making a lot of noise as he walked. You swore under your breath.

"SANJI I'M STARVING!!"

With your hands on your hips you looked at him seriously, you pulled out all your repertoire to stand firm with him, like a mother scolding her rebellious son.

"Oh no, Sanji is very exhausted today so you'll have to be more patient today Luffy"

You walked towards him with determined steps and he stepped back a little thinking that you were going to pull his ears, you seemed upset

"B-but... when will the food be ready?-"

"When it has to be ready"

You quickly grabbed him by the shoulders and pushed him out of the kitchen, slamming the door in his face. You turned around and looked at Sanji and shook your head and let out a tired breath.

"How do you put up with him?"

He laughed "Occupational hazards, you get used to it"

They both smiled and he got up from the couch leaving the almost empty cup on a nearby table.

"Thank you very much for the intensive care, ma chérie, but I think it's time for me to get down to business, otherwise our captain will start asking the fish if the food is ready."

You laughed at the silly joke but quickly frowned, "But, you should keep resting."

He approached you and grabbing both of your hands he kissed your knuckles "don't worry darling, you've done enough for me and I'm deeply grateful"

You felt your heart melt at such beautiful words, what Sanji said was true, you could never imagine how much he will treasure this moment.

"Can I at least help you cook? I don't know much but you can guide me in whatever you need"

Sanji smiled, that was why he loved you, you were always willing to help even though you had already done it. He led you into the kitchen, you were going to prepare a simple pasta. The two of you side by side with your hips bumping together began to cook with glee. It was more fun than you thought, you paid attention and learned from what Sanji taught you and you both laughed out loud if you got an ingredient wrong. The blonde boy looked at you fondly while your eyes were on the kitchen utensils, maybe Sanji should start getting tired more often if it meant being able to put his health back in the hands of your loyal heart of gold.

Divider: @bernardsbendystraws

[undiscovered-horizon]

Caution: this text includes graphic descriptions of involuntary violence and abuse (themes of mind control). Be mindful of your media consumption.

[When Miss Goldenweek paints you angry and vicious, Sanji has to be the one to wipe the paint off. There's one problem: he absolutely refuses to use force against you, even when you ask him to.]

a/n: let me know if you want Zoro's version!

It started with annoyance. Like the buzzing of a fly or a mosquito over your head, keeping you awake on a fine summer night. The moment you get up and turn on the light, the buzzing stops. The insect is nowhere in sight. Once you get back in bed, it roams your room anew, expertly escaping deadly swats.

Except Sanji was not an insect. He was a dashing young man, always willing to lend a hand and anticipating your needs in hopes of earning your favour. Additionally, he was about to get his jaw relocated with your fist if he didn’t stop talking about being the one who did, in fact, kill the T-rex instead of Zoro, who was nowhere to be seen.

You heard yourself finally yelling at him. “Will you just shut up?!”

The silence that followed was unbearably loud. The foliage surrounding you rustled in a questioning manner. What on Earth just happened?

Your footsteps came to a halt. Both of you just stared at the other, quietly asking yourselves whether you really had just screamed at Sanji to shut up. You watched him press his lips into a tight line, jaw clenching hard enough to cause a headache in the near future. A sorrowful glisten appeared in his eyes and you couldn’t be sure whether he was angry or on the verge of tears.

Sanji was about to say something, no doubt to reveal his breaking heart, when you beat him to it:

“I’m sorry,” you squeaked out before covering your mouth, eyes large with horror. “I-I don’t know what-” 

A painful groan cut your sentence short. The sound came from your throat but it was in no way yours. It felt all too foreign, as though you were suddenly sharing your body with a beast far too old and primal to have a name. Your heart began hammering against your ribs, the echo of its rhythm rang in your ears. Blood rushed to your face. Hands trembled as they balled into fists. No matter how hard you tried, you could not stretch out your fingers. In a matter of seconds, the fighting stance started to feel good. Right. It was like finally giving in to an old, unending urge. The freedom this rage offered was nothing short of blissful.

“What’s going on?” asked Sanji. His hand lay reassuringly on your shoulder. The warmth coming from him was infuriating. What palpable audacity to patronise you like that. “Are you okay? Come on, talk to me.”

Your fist came in contact with his jaw rather quickly. Unfortunately, as you thought to yourself, not a crack was heard.

Sanji stammered backwards, holding the side of his face. Glistening blue eyes met yours. The look of hurt and betrayal on his face was sweet to you. It was exactly what people of his kind deserved and it was high time he learned that. There were enough sleazy, pig-headed men in this world. One less would do everyone a lot of good.

“I won’t waste my breath on a vermin like you,” you spat out. The voice belonged to you, yes, but you had no will in uttering those words. They came from deep inside – somewhere too out of reach even for you. It was as though you suddenly began rotting from the inside.

Another groan bordering on a growl tore from your chest. Your hands shook, aching fingers slightly opening tight fists. This wasn’t you.

“I don’t know what’s happening to me!” you called out to Sanji. He must have noticed a significant change in you as he once more reached out towards you. You stopped him, taking several steps back. “Don’t come any closer,” you warned. “I... can't... control it!"

Sanji’s eyes took in your hunched physique. There was a burning urge in him to defy your order, to hold you in an embrace so tight no other living thing could ever make your acquaintance. The man, however, was no fool. Despite what some green-haired swordsman might claim. Sanji was disillusioned about something being amiss.

His gaze stopped on a red mark right above your ankle. It was easy to miss among the large foliage and shrubbery surrounding you.

“The paint,” he whispered. “Love, there’s paint on your leg.” Sanji was trying to keep his voice calm, more for you than himself. In slow, short steps, he was making his way towards you. “We need to get it off. Now.” Despite the gentle sound of his voice, the grave seriousness of its tone was unmissable.

Normally, you would have agreed with him and devised a plan. But that required time and clarity of mind you didn’t have. Feeling the enraged beast inside you coming to take over control, you had to limit yourself to the necessities. "Just…” Another groan. “You stupid, little, man-thing!” you growled at him. The wrinkle between Sanji’s eyebrows only deepened his worried frown. Fighting against the paint’s maddening properties, you doubled over. It was physically painful to defy the chemicals. “Knock me out or something!” you gritted through your teeth.

Sanji took a deep, ragged breath. How brilliant of Miss Goldenweek to ask him to do something he simply couldn’t. And how pathetically lovesick of him to let his heart decide.

"I would rather die than hurt you,” he stated. His words sounded more like an oath than a personal preference; he announced to all malice residing in this world that there is only one weakness he shall suffer.

You wanted to tell Sanji that it really wasn’t the right time to be chivalrous. Instead, it was the frenzied beast inside you that answered him:

“Then you will perish.”

Sanji expertly evaded your swinging fist. Making true to his vow, he never parried or answered the attack. His body contorted in all sorts of ways to escape your punches. The assault was fast, without a sign of slowing down anytime soon. As Sanji continued to waste your efforts, it appeared that your rage only grew.

The insect is perfectly escaping the deadly swats.

If he were asked on any other occasion whether he likes being intimately known by you, Sanji would deem that question completely obsolete: of course he enjoyed it. What else could he answer? That if you stabbed him through the heart, he would be eternally grateful for being allowed to admire you one last time before he dies?

As things were at the moment, being so well-known by you could cause Sanji’s demise. You’ve seen him fight, you know his skills, tendencies and strategies. Which is why you did a small feint before hitting him right in the centre of his stomach. His diaphragm spasmed, he couldn’t take a breath. Another powerful punch made him fall, hitting the ground with a loud, muffled thud.

Sanji had no time to wrap his head around the turn of events. You sat on top of him, clenched hand flying down to make a dizzying impact with the side of his face. Unbearable, loud ringing filled his ears. His vision became spotty but remained clear enough to let Sanji turn his head and evade your continuous assault. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the red paint above your ankle. If he could just reach it…

One of your hands grabbed his throat. It was more surprising than painful, yet all the more terrifying for him. He gasped for air but his lungs remained empty. Another of your fists hung high above his head, ready to strike down with viciousness unknown to humane creatures.

Is this really how this ends?, he thought.

Still, he couldn’t force himself to overpower you, to fight back whatever malice resided inside you. Part of him started to accept the impending doom. In some other, less dire and heartbreaking circumstances, he surely would have made a joke about happily dying under you.

Your fist was coming closer and closer to his face.

He didn’t close his eyes. He wanted to see you.

But the impact never came. Your hand, as if held back by an invisible force, stopped a mere inch away from him. Sanji looked at you, not quite understanding what was happening. His eyes met yours. There was a sense of awareness in your stare. Tears were streaming down your face. Anger remained in your glistening gaze but it was much different. Sanji recognised it. He’s seen it a thousand times, whenever it took considerable effort to wake up Zoro; whenever you had a bad day and wanted to be left alone; whenever you crossed paths with petty bullies and their senseless violence.

A growl escaped your throat. In one moment, you let go of Sanji’s neck and hit yourself square in the jaw. Another punch met your nose. Blood streamed down your face. You felt dizzy but so did the relentless rage inside you. Using the last bits of your remaining strength and resolve, you rolled off of Sanji.

“Do… it!” you managed to say through clenched teeth.

Sanji didn’t waste time. Not when you were on the right track to knocking yourself out. Still coughing and trying to catch his breath, he reached down to your legs, wiping off the red paint in one swift motion. Momentarily, your body went limp. Sanji sat next you, pulled up your upper body by your shoulders and settled you against his chest. His hand was trembling as he gently, almost fearfully, caressed your face. The other palm rested on the back of your head, allowing him to see all of you. And as much as he loved taking his time admiring you, the sight before him was not one to behold. Blood that dripped from your nose was already drying on your lips and chin. Some drops stained your blouse. Red, bruised face had swollen in the past few minutes.

He whispered your name in a questioning manner, as if checking whether you still belonged to the land of the living. You slowly opened your eyes and met his gaze. Sanji was crying, doing his best to keep his body from shivering with every sob. It was an image of a man broken. Was it his heart that broke? Or his spirit? Perhaps his own humanity had shattered when he had to bear witness to cruelty beyond imagination.

“Sanji…” you muttered, voice hoarse and shaking. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t-”

“I know,” he interrupted. His face became all blurry and you couldn’t be sure whether it was because of your own tears or repeatedly punching yourself in the face. “I know, love.”

“I could have killed you.”

“Me?” Sanji laughed but there was no happiness in the sound. It was the amusement of a sole survivor; the chuckle of a man executed by a blunt guillotine. “You would never do that. You- “ A violent sob escaped his throat. “You love me too much.”

Your shaking hand slowly reached up to Sanji’s face. Cautiously, you touched his already bruised cheek. His slight wince didn’t escape your attention.

“Why would you let me do that to you, Sanji?”

His heart broke yet again, hearing your voice crack with emotion. What devilish sins had he committed in his previous life to be subjected to this suffering? What absolution was there in such agony?

Sanji’s hand left your face and gently grabbed your wrist. He lowered your palm to his lips, placing a chaste kiss on the knuckles.

“Because I love you too much,” he forced a smile on his face. It was in no way comforting. His expression contorted into an even deeper image of a soul torn apart and sewn together with little care or expertise. “How could I ever hurt my princess?"

It was impossible to say how much time had gone by while you and Sanji were silently holding each other. No words were spoken because what words were there to say? What should be said in such circumstances? Although words had failed you, that shared silence wasn't exactly quiet. Each gentle caress, a kiss left on the bruised skin, exchanged tears and glances - all of them told stories too grand for any known language.

How silly of Miss Goldenweek to forget that there are things much stronger than angry fists and blind rage.

[seven-winged-liar]

hearing a beloved friend say the words 'can i be mean for a sec' is like watching an angel descend from the heavens and kiss you on the forehead

[loveridden1999]

i have that dog in me. you know. the losing one

[umeumeumee]

fault is false II

ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ- clarisse la rue x daughter of aphrodite! reader

synopsis: after clarisse lashed out so cruelly, she debates on how to win you back— but faces difficulty— especially when you refuse to have anything to do with her.

authors note: hi guys.. sorry this is probably a year late.. i completely forgot about tumblr! anyways.. i’m so happy to see that so many of you enjoyed part 1! here’s part 2! enjoy <3 (part I here)

Clarisse had been rotting in her guilt for days.

Marinating in anguish of her own decisions and suffering the consequences of her actions. she couldn’t breathe.

clarisse was well aware how upset you would be with her, no doubt she was expecting a shove off and a bit of attitude from you— but no, you’ve been blowing her off completely.

You were very hurt by her words, but something else burned inside you. A flame of anger. You currently despised charisse- even if you truly did love her deep down, you couldn’t stand to be in the same room of her.

the daughter of ares had tried relentlessly to apologize for her cruel words and poor decision, but her apology was shot through deaf ears. having being blown off by you for days, she was fed up. Her heart was swollen with desire for you, she needed you to forgive her, and she wasn’t sure how much longer she could go without you.

she stayed up at night with the regret chewing her skin raw, replaying how she acted and what she said, regretting her actions and even more so her words.

Being ghosted by you was something she, frankly, never thought she’d have to worry about. She was one for unkind words, it’s not the first time she’s spoken cruelty to you— just.. not specifically about you, to your face.

Her once unshakable confidence and snarky demeanor was shattered into millions of pieces , scattered where the trail of your friendship had been. The dining hall, the sparing arena, her bedroom— everywhere she stood unshakable with you beside her was now filled with a deep , itching sense of regret and anger.

She was pissed, to be frank. At herself, but also; at you. Who did you think you were? ignoring her? acting like she didn’t exist? It made her unbearably angry— uncomfortable.

Her thoughts were in a whizz.

The sound of her spear being slammed into another campers shield was loud enough to break her from her temporary trance— her eyes flickering to the now fallen boy on the floor, glaring up at clarisse. oops.

“What’s wrong with you?” the boy, Allo, son of Artemis, barked at her, standing up. Clarisse felt a vein poke from her forehead, her composure that was barely there to start with was now almost completely gone.

“What’s wrong with me?” she bit back, slamming her spear into the floor “What’s wrong with you? You’re the son of Artemis and you can’t handle a bit of a fight?” she snapped, her voice raising.

Allo scoffed, mumbling something about her being an ass before he dropped his shield onto the ground as well, successfully passive-aggressively falling onto her spear, before he made a face at her and left.

Clarisse bit her tongue, closing her eyes and taking a breath- she couldn’t wring his neck, no. at least.. not here.

her thoughts quickly drifted away from the irritating situation and back to you, of course. Your face clouding her mind. yes, there is absolutely no doubt that she was pissed , pissed at you— but… she wasn’t. she was just… she didn’t know how she felt.

Clarisse bent down to pick her spear up, her head elsewhere.

She’d never thought about her feeling of you— or, for you. she never put much thought into how jealous she was, or how much your validation and attention meant to her. how your words and praises made her feel so good.

that’s just how she was, right?

Clarisse placed her spear back into the weapon holder, removing her breastplate and placing it over the hook alongside the other armor, her feet dragging her to the dining hall, signaled by the lunch bell.

her dark brown eyes quickly scanned the vicinity , and immediately found you. You sat with Percy , as well as grover and annabeth, the group chatting amongst each other, and you occasionally chiming in, though… she noticed how upset you looked, how hurt you were. And, that familiar feeling of regret chewed her chest out, because no matter how much she covered her guilt with anger and blame, she knew your expression was her fault.

She scoffed, looking away; filling her lunch tray up with food, though she was the last thing but hungry. She wanted to desperately talk to you- not matter how much she denied the fact she wanted to, but she knew it was no use, you’d brush her off like you did the last few times— and she was not going to… beg for you.

she wasn’t.

no matter how badly she wanted to.

—

You poked your food, percy and his friends chatting away about some quest they were going to sneak out to do.

Normally, you’d be super invested and obviously guide them to, you know— not to do that, but.. you couldn’t find it in yourself to care.

Clarisse’s hurtful words stabbed your soft heart like a dozen of tiny little needles having a birthday party in your most fragile organ.

You were beyond upset, her face , her words— the won’t stop replaying. she basically called you a whore. She basically called your siblings whores, your mother. It was so.. wrong. so mean. but.. you couldn’t help but want to amend, to just pretend it never happened, to shove it down and go back to normal.

You knew that that wouldn’t happen anytime soon though. You knew she was upset at you— which just made you even more upset. You loved clarisse. You did; no matter how much you wanted to desperately deny it, deny how you were in love with your stupid.. asshole friend.

the worst part is, you knew she loved you back.

It wasn’t something that was big fat secret, no matter how much she wanted to deny: Everyone knows clarisse is too busy to do relationships, and too scared to acknowledge her feelings.

You heard the familiar chatter of her voice, your eyes automatically flickering up to find her , sitting at her usual table surround by siblings and friends. you could see she was bothered, and you knew she was upset about the whole situation, but too mighty to admit to it. you scoffed under your breath, standing up.

the group you sat with looked to you as you stood grabbing your tray, “I’m gonna go,” you said, smiling at them “let me know how your plan goes, okay?” you said, to which they bid farewell to you, and you scattered off to place your tray elsewhere and back to your room, where you can sulk in peace.

clarisse watched you go, her eyes following you like a key in a lock, her body itching to follow you. to mend— to.. apologize.

she bit the inside of her cheek, chewing it. she shouldn’t. she wouldn’t. she was too proud.

…

fuck it.

clarisse stood up, leaving the table without a word, leaving her tray behind as she followed after you.

what was she doing? following you like a damn dog. shit. she was pathetic.

she quickly caught up, grabbing your arm before you could open the door to the Aphrodite cabin.

she hated how she relished in the feeling of your skin on hers.

She watched as you turned around; apon the realization it was her, you tugging your arm from her grasp. she bit a scoff.

“what?” you mumbled, avoiding her gaze.

The cold seeped into clarisses fingers, even through the sleeves she had pulled over her hands. You two stood beneath the sun, even if it was cloudy, it’s never felt so cold before. The distant chatter of other campers was nothing but background noise, nothing in the face of your own little silence—sharp and heavy, like glass about to break.

clarisse kept her eyes on the ground. Her breath came out in clouds, white against the yellow of the sun. She hated this. Not the silence—the waiting. She knew what she had to say. She just couldn’t make her mouth move. Her pride clung to her like armor, welded tight across her chest.

You were silent as well, your arms folded, yo ur eyes downcast, not looking at at clarisse, but thinking about her— that only made it worse. made it hardee’s

Clarisse had always been sharp. She knew how to protect herself—with sarcasm, with distance, with fire when needed. She had spent years building herself like that, brick by careful brick. And then you showed up , and didn’t ask her to take it all down. you just looked… at her in a way that made it hard to keep pretending the walls were comfortable. That Mira was comfortable inside them.

And—god, clarisse knew she’d been cruel

she shifted on her feet, heart pounding. Her mouth felt dry. The words were right there—but every time she got close to saying them, something inside her recoiled. If she apologized, it meant admitting that you mattered. That she’d hurt her. That what she felt—this mess of affection and fear and something terrifyingly close to longing—was real.

She wasn’t good at real.

Still, you hadn’t walked away. clarisse had half expected you to storm off, or worse, say something kind and final. But she just stood there, quiet, giving Mira space to be brave.

clarisse took a deep breath. “I was... mean,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

you didn’t respond, not right away.

“I shouldn’t have said what I said.” Mira’s eyes flicked to her, then away. “You didn’t deserve that. any of that..”

Silence again. clarisse pressed her teeth into her bottom lip. That should be enough. It was an apology, wasn’t it?

But it didn’t feel like enough. Not for this.

“I…” clarisse hesitated. The next words felt like stepping off a ledge. “I get.. i don’t know.. upset sometimes. When people get close. It’s not you, it’s me being—” She shook her head. “Scared. Of how I feel. About you.”

you juiced.

“clarisse— i.. know you senile with words,” i said causing the girl to bite a scoff “But what you said, isn’t so easily forgivable— you— you can’t just expect me to forgive you for what you said and act like nothing is wrong,” i told her.

clarisse sighed, rubbing her forehead. “I know,” she said in a bite “but i’m trying, okay?”

“try harder, then,” i retorted , still not facing her. she scoffed at that.

“I.. ugh. fine. Just.. listen, okay? i’m..” she sighed again..

That finally made you look at her, was she actually going to say what you thought?

“.i…” fuck. should she say it? she didn’t want to— she shouldn’t.. but..

“I like you,” Clarisse finally said, each word like pulling teeth.

The air between you two seemed to shift. your face be and less upset—your eyebrows drew together not in anger, but in something gentler. Compassion, maybe.

Relief.

“You could’ve just said that,” you said in a mumble, letting your arms unfold and fall to your sides.

Clarisse scoffed, breathless and sharp. “Yeah, well. I suck at saying things.”

you turned toward her fully now, stepping a little closer. “You’re doing fine.”

clarisse blinked. “You’re not mad?”

“I was,” you admitted. “i still am— and.. what you said was.. really mean, and i was really hurt. but... I get it. I know you’re not used to this.”

clarisse felt the weight in her chest shift, not vanish, but lighten. “I’m trying.”

“I know,” you said. “thanks for trying.”

clarisse looked at you—really looked—and this time, she didn’t look away. The cloudy sun cast a soft glow over your face, your eyes a warm kind of steady. There was no sadness or anger in them now. Just patience. Hope.

And for the first time, clarisse felt like she could breathe again.

[solemnscreams]

"You only like him cuz he's hot—" no shit you think I like him for his morals?

[lizheartsyou]

learning the pronunciation of castellan was the biggest plot twist of the season actually

[i-love-hozier]

Looking for wlw fanfics and all of them are bestfriend!reader and male character x reader.

Just let me be fucking gay bro

[wilsonology]

andrew in drag

[ohgaylor]

i just don’t get how on an album so candidly titled the life of a showgirl lyrically barely addresses the kind of performative decadence motif the photoshoot leans so heavily onnnn

[basicanti-socialb-tch]

I like him. I like that autistic man. And would I be wrong by asking him at dinner "Is you autistic?" cuz I like that

[solemnscreams]

"You only like him cuz he's hot—" no shit you think I like him for his morals?

[that-one-fangirl69]

I've seen a lot of ff writers apologize for their fic being "self-indulgent" which baffles me cause like is that not the entire concept of fanfiction?????

SAY IT WITH ME FOLKS, "FANFICTION IS SUPPOSED TO BE SELF-INDULGENT"

[kitkatscabinet]

ONLY ONE BED

pairing: barry allen x gn! reader

requested: by anon as part of dc drabbles

"I’m so sorry, Mr. Allen. It seems there's been an issue in our system, one of your rooms has been double booked, and we only have the one room for you and your friend? I'd be happy to upgrade you to a better room, on the house for the inconvenience. It's just... all our available rooms only have a single bed."

Barry momentarily blacked out at her words, trying not to vibrate out of existence at the implication of that statement.

"I hope that’s alright?" The front desk lady seemed genuinely remorseful, but Barry didn't have it in him to even smile in understanding.

It was not alright.

Not even close to alright. Not for his heart rate, not for his dignity, and certainly not for the fragile little (big fat massive) crush he’d spent the past year trying (and failing miserable) to pretend didn’t exist.

The poor, anxious, staff member looks to be on the verge of tears at Barry's sudden stonewalling, forcing you to step forward with a friendly smile. "It’s fine, mistakes happen."

Before you turned to Barry, nudging him with your elbow. "Besides, we’re adults, one night won’t kill us."

Speak for yourself, Barry thought.

Now, standing stiffly in the doorway of the room, Barry stared at the single, very intimate bed like it had insulted his mother.

You were already kicking off your shoes and reaching out for the pillow. "We’ll build a pillow wall. It can be Switzerland."

He managed a weak laugh. "Right. Switzerland. Neutral. No funny business."

You glanced at him over your shoulder, brow raised. "Funny business?"

"Just saying! In case you thought I was the kind of guy who has funny intentions. I don’t. My intentions are very unfunny." He waved his hands helplessly.

"You’re rambling, Barry."

"I do that sometimes."

You smiled, showing off your teeth. "I know. It’s cute."

Just like that, you rendered him immobile as his brain was forced to hard reboot. "Thanks," he croaks, setting his bag down. His mouth continuing to move without his express permission. "You’re cute too."

You turned away quickly, but not before he caught the little smile tugging at the corner of your mouth.

He let you shower first, and by the time he emerged in sweatpants and a shirt that was embarrassingly nerdy, you've already slipped under the covers. Casually scrolling through your phone like nothing was out of the norm.

Barry stood by the bed like a man preparing to go to war.

You looked up in concern. "You gonna hover all night or…?"

He cleared his throat, slid under the covers, and folded his hands over his stomach. Staring straight at the ceiling and breathing as carefully as possible, like if he moved even an inch then the world would end.

They lay there in silence for a minute before you snorted. "Barry?"

"Yeah?" He squeaks, clearing his throat. "I mean, yes?"

"You're stiff as a board, relax Dracula. I’m not going to spontaneously combust if we accidentally touch."

"I—okay, that’s fair."

You turned onto your side to look at him. "You’re not exactly subtle, you know."

"About what?"

You just smiled, knowingly. "Goodnight, Barry."

"’Night." He breathes, immensely thankful the darkness hid his undoubtedly bright red cheeks.

He's on the verge of falling asleep when a weight lands on his chest. Your arm. He freezes once more, barely holding back a whimper when you suddenly cuddle into his side, pillow wall destroyed in your sleepy quest for snuggles.

He doesn't sleep much that night, too busy trying to ingrain the moment into his mind.

Maybe if he wasn't so keyed up then he would have noticed your victorious smile.

[mrshargreeves]

say what you will about the cw flash’s writing but the amount of foreshadowing that’s actually done well in the first two seasons is crazy and it’s shit you wouldn’t even notice or realise was foreshadowing until you rewatch it like season one episode seven with dr. wells naming people that died as a result of the particle accelerator explosion and him adding in people we will see in the show later