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star-girl69 · 3 months

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Don’t Delete The Kisses

Clarisse La Rue x Fem!Aphrodite!Reader

—-

synopsis: after breaking someone’s heart as apart of your initiation into the aphrodite cabin, you don’t think love is meant for you after your cruelty. clarisse thinks you’re ridiculous.

a/n: my friend was talking about how like insane this song makes her and i was like oh so this is genius

Don’t Delete The Kisses - Wolf Alice

warnings: insecure and very sad y/n ☹️, so like yeah all of that stuff, very ooc clarisse but IDC, i hate everyone but you trope fr, more talking about our feelings which we know is very hard for clarisse, the usual mentions of death and weapons, all that demigod stuff, more clarisse wanting, clarisse is insane as always i love her my ladybug fr, swearing, mentions of food, crap ton of violence, broken noses, whole bunch of blood, teeth get knocked out, yeah, tell me if i missed anything!!

—-

“Well, did you do it?”

You wanted to sneak into the Aphrodite cabin silently, hoping your pink jacket would blend into the walls and hide you. But that was just wishful thinking. That was just something you whispered to yourself on the walk back to comfort your shaking body, wiping away the tears.

This is your initiation. They’re all sitting on their beds, waiting with eager eyes, greedy for a taste of someone else’s suffering, the comfort of knowing it’s not their own.

“Yes,” you say, pretending tears don’t rim your eyes.

You stand stall, shutting the cabin door behind you.

“I did it.”

Your sister Drew stands up and grabs your hand. You think she might comfort you. You think she might tell you Carter was in it all along, you didn’t really hurt him, it was all some elaborate prank.

Instead, she raises your hand up in the air and turns towards the rest of your siblings.

“Y/N!” she says, “Daughter of Aphrodite!”

Your siblings clap and cheer, smiling widely- one of the younger girls runs right up to you and hugs you, face in your stomach.

“You played him so good,” she giggles, pigtails swinging in the air. She is so naïve, so young, so unknowing. You wonder if you can give yourself amnesia if you slam your head into the column holding up the cabin.

You would do anything to forget this night. To forget the look on Carter’s face. He fell in love with you and you let your siblings guide you on what to do, what to say, you let them dress you up and and put pretty bows in your hair that he reached out to touch.

He thought he would end the night with a kiss, but instead he ended the night with your hand in his face, scoffing animatedly and asking “How could he ever think a daughter of Aphrodite could like him?”

You could feel his heart break, and you could feel your mother ghosting around the wind, you could feel the muscles in your face strain as your eyes filled with tears.

You wrap your arms around your younger sister and force yourself to chuckle.

“His face was so funny,” you say, but there was an unintended action to your initiation. Your heart broke too. You saw the look on his face- if that is how losing love feels then you never want to give yourself the chance to lose it.

Besides, it’s not like you could ever deserve love after this. The love your siblings crave but never quite get. True, encompassing, all-consuming love. After this night, after the hatred coiling up in your stomach like a snake, it’s just not meant for you.

—-

Everyone at Camp calls you princess.

It made you feel like a baby, weak, like you were nothing but a pretty face. But no matter how much you flinched at the nickname, grimaced when you found yourself answering to its call, no one stopped.

Your siblings all cooed and said it was so fitting, saying with curled lips that you were most definitely Aphrodite’s favorite. Your hair always fell in the most beautiful way, your makeup always stayed and looked beautiful, you know you can’t walk through camp without someone looking at you.

Especially after your charmspeak developed, you became a shell of yourself, scared constantly like you are just a walking knife, doomed to cut anyone you come near.

You’re not that different from your siblings- the only difference is you won’t ever lead someone on. You won’t ever make anyone thing they have a chance. Because you’ll never break someone’s heart again.

You’re still Aphrodite’s daughter, you still like to look pretty. So, you do your makeup and your hair, you revel in the feelings of eyes on you but you choose your words carefully.

But other than that, you despise love, your mother, everything about the Aphrodite Cabin.

But you suck it up, you let boys fix your posture, let them teach you to fight while they dream of kissing you, and you work silently and you wait to get out of this hellhole Camp.

You stay silent and you let them realize that you’re just simply not interested in a relationship. They’re sad, but their hearts aren’t broken.

Everybody calls you princess. But Clarisse says it differently.

Clarisse La Rue is probably the bane of your existence. She’s drop dead gorgeous, you would kill to run your hands through her curls, and she is the most talented person you know in battle. You’re pretty good, after all this silent training and the tips and tricks shared in vain, but she is a force.

She’s the one guilty pleasure you let yourself have. If only because you know she’s too strong to get hurt. So you let yourself look, keep a secret crush tight in your chest- only bursting out when you can’t stand it, and you just have to stare at her and revel in that for a second.

The thing about Clarisse is that she likes you. Which would be fine, you just tried to stay away, but she kept coming back for more and more until it became impossible to ignore her. It’s like you two were just doomed to forever be in love with each other, and you have to live with that and eat it like crow.

It’s not like she outwardly flirts with you. She just says your nickname differently. She caresses the words and says it softer. She doesn’t stare at you like everyone else- she looks at you. It feels amazing, your one guilty pleasure is to revel in her love from far away, but you make it clear that you don’t want a relationship and you never will.

Clarisse seems intent either to ignore that or wait you out. You don’t let her get close enough. You won’t break someone else’s heart.

Everyone calls you princess. You only like it when Clarisse says it.

—-

��Hi, princess.”

You don’t look at him, focusing on tying your shoes instead. “Can I help you?”

“Actually, I thought I could help you.”

You finish tying your laces, taking your foot up off of the bench and onto the ground. You grab your sword, hair tied back, tank top and stretchy pants. He looks you up and down. You do the same.

“Uh… Van, right?”

“Funny name so you won’t forget it, huh?” he winks, and you very obviously grimace.

“Ha, yeah.” You set your sights on a dummy currently not being attacked by a sword or spear and take a step forward.

“I noticed,” he starts, arm in front of you, stopping you from moving. “That the only weapon you don’t know how to use is the spear.”

You finally look at him. He’s wearing cargo pants and the orange camp t-shirt. His hand is plain and blonde, cut short, and his cheeks seem to be permanently flushed. He’s a son of Ares, pretty good fighter, but nothing else to speak for. Clarisse, at least, is the absolute best at almost everything she does- and she puts in the work to show it.

Van looks like he trains the minimum amount and gets by on his natural abilities as a demigod.

“Okay?” you say, wanting nothing more than to get away from him and go back to training. “I don’t get what you’re saying. And don’t flirt with me, either- one of my siblings would be happy to make out with you in a shed somewhere.”

“I’ll teach you,” he says, slightly exasperated. You finally notice he is, in fact, holding a spear. “Huh?”

You squint at him.

You do have a reputation in this camp. Part of the reason you’re called princess is because you’re standoffish and cold- people mistake it as you thinking you’re better than them. Really, you’re one of the worst people at this camp. You’re saving them from being tainted by association.

But every once in a while, someone will get it in their heads that soulmates do exist, and they’re the right person for you- and you’re mean and you shut them down, but that’s way before they fall in love. It hurts them, but not as much as it hurts you, not as much as it would hurt them if you gave them any ounce of attention.

The only person who keeps coming back for more sticks her spear into the ground next to you, fingers drumming against the wood.

“Van, you look fucking stupid.”

“Clarisse,” Van hisses, glaring at her. She glares right back, unimpressed. “Can you just go? Fuck.”

She raises her eyebrows. His spear hits the dirt before you can even comprehend that Clarisse kicked it out of his hands, and you have to admit- Clarisse is quick. Clarisse is good at what she does.

She pours everything she’s got into training- and pursuing you. You think it might just be a joke at this point, or something she finds fun, been doing it too long that stopping feels wrong. You would be lying if you said it wouldn’t be weird for her to stop. For both of you to stop whatever this is. This silent wanting.

“First of all, you are mediocre with a spear. Second, if Y/N wanted spear lessons she would come to me, right?”

“I don’t know,” you huff, walking away.

“Clarisse,” you can hear Van groan. “She was going to say yes until you ruined it.”

“Bro, she was not going to say yes. You’re welcome for saving your ass from even more embarrassment, Gods.”

“You’re just mad she doesn’t like you after you’ve been pining for years.”

She laughs, loud and boisterously, but there’s an edge to her voice, one of doubt, something like she’s scared.

“Oh, you’re fucking funny,” she says, and you can hear her slapping his shoulder. You stretch, risking a glance over your shoulder- Van is walking off and she’s looking at you.

But when your eyes meet hers, she quickly looks away. And you notice. You notice, but you do nothing about it. The way it’s always meant to be.

—-

The strawberry fields is the most beautiful place at camp. It’s where you feel something for your mother, because while gardening and plants are Demeter’s thing- finding beauty in the way the strawberry sits in your hand, the way the sun turns the sky into purple and oranges, the way the bright green trees stand out against that- it’s all your mother.

You can appreciate beauty here.

You see beauty everywhere, and you see love everywhere, but not the kinds your mother is famous for.

You’ve been picking strawberries for what seems like hours now, but it’s bearable under the setting sun and when you think about how good it will feel to finally sink into your bed.

“Y/N!” someone calls. “Princess!” you roll your eyes but stand up, turning around and putting your hand over your face to protect from the setting sun.

“Yeah?!” you shout back, squinting. You realize you’re alone in the fields.

“We’re heading back!” a Demeter girl, Sasha, says.

Your eyes flick to your basket that will only take a few more minutes to fill up.

“I’ll go back later!”

“Okay!” she shouts back, running off after everyone else.

You crouch back down, taking a deep breath before you begin ruffling through the leaves of the strawberry plant to find the juicy berries. You sneak a few as you work, shuffling down the line of plants. It’s so calm here. There’s no one to hurt. There’s nothing to be scared of.

When you stand up, there’s four figures standing by the shed. You gasp, bringing your hand to your chest, but Clarisse takes off her helmet.

“Princess?” she asks. “What’cha doin’ out here all alone?”

“Collecting strawberries,” you snort, full basket hitting your knees as you walk towards her.

“I see that,” she huffs. You notice Van behind her, and another sister, Carrie, a brother named Matty. “But what are you doin’ out here alone?”

You shrug, coming to a stop in front of the little group of Ares kids.

“Everyone else left.”

“It’s almost dark.”

“Not yet, though,” you smile sarcastically.

Carrie and Matty continue walking after they realize nothing fun is going to happen. You’re not gonna entertain them, so why would they care? But Clarisse and Van stay. You stare at Clarisse for a moment longer before finally looking away.

“You don’t have a weapon,” Van notes. “Smart to be out here alone?”

“Oh, relax,” you sigh. “We’re still in the barrier.”

You tighten your grip on the bucket and turn left, walking towards the shed. Clarisse is hot on your heels.

“And how do you know that? What if it had spontaneously, like, failed and shut down, or something.”

“Then I think everyone would be running around and screaming, because monsters would be crawling through camp. I would know.”

You place the bucket next to all the other buckets collected today- you’ll keep the good ones here over night, away from the animals and bugs and someone will collect them in the morning.

You stand up, rolling your wrists, wiping the sweat from your brow. You take the small cutters for the thicker branches from your pocket and throw it into the bin with the others.

“Well, if it makes you feel better, you can walk me back.”

“I jus’ think it’s stupid to be out here all alone,” she shrugs. You stare right past her, watching as the door slams shut. Was it windy?

Clarisse whips around, but sees it’s just the closed door. You frown, Clarisse steps forward.

“Sorry, Clarisse!” Van shouts from outside, and that’s when you hear the lock sliding into place. Your eyes widen as you realize what he’s done.

“Van, what the hell?!” Clarisse shouts, trying the knob. The door stays firmly shut. She slams her shoulder into it, but this place was built strong to protect from the elements, from all the little animals hungry for strawberries. “Let us out right fucking now, I swear, Van!”

“I can’t!” he says back, sounding sort of pained. “I just couldn’t get her alone!”

“Me?!” you yell, feeling increasingly trapped and claustrophobic. You shove Clarisse out of the way and rattle the doorknob, but it really is locked. “I didn’t do shit to you! Let me the fuck out!”

“For Carter!”

You take a step back. Your face falls from anger and anxiety into pure and utter turmoil. Your chest squeezes like it does every time you think about him. You carry the pain and the regret so heavily you doubt you’ll ever get rid of it. You’ll always be like this, rotting in your head, watching your beauty fade away and everyone give up on you.

Will you finally be free then? If you scream and take a knife to your face, make yourself unrecognizable, will everyone finally leave you alone then? Can you be something other than this stupid camp’s stupid princess?

But it’s wishful thinking. You’re a daughter of Aphrodite, and you were born to be beautiful, and you were born to be alone.

“Van, I’ll fucking kill you. Let. Us. Out.”

“Sorry!” he shouts, and you hear his footsteps in the dirt, running away while Clarisse screams for him to come back here.

You take a deep breath but it all comes crashing down like a dam breaking. All of the anger, the regret, the fear, it all comes pouring out until you’re sobbing into your hands in the middle of the shed.

Clarisse stops trying to break through the door. It’s painfully tense for a moment, nothing besides the crickets and the sounds of your sobs. You end up sitting on half-empty bags of fertilizer and mulch in the corner- although it’s not really used much, sometimes the Demeter kids like to experiment- it’s the most comfortable thing in this shed.

You’re 17 now, and you broke Carter’s heart when he was 13 and you were 12. You wake up and you feel your guilt like you feel the sun on your face- it’s your morning routine to stare at yourself in the mirror and know that you are the blessed one who doesn’t deserve it. You beg to be free, but this is your punishment.

“I’m sorry,” you cry out, “How does he not know I’m sorry?”

You never said it to him, of course- your siblings had told you Aphrodite would curse you if you said you were sorry, and you were 12 and scared so you shut up and you stared at him from afar, your first love and your first heartbreak. Could he not see the way you hated yourself? The way you hated everyone?

Why couldn’t anyone see that you weren’t a princess? You were a demon, so wicked you were worthy of being Hades’ right hand minion.

Clarisse sits down heavily next to you. She doesn’t say anything. She waits until the sobs start to ebb like a wave, until the worst is over.

“I’m sorry,” you say, one final time. Maybe the wind will take pity on you and carry your words to him. You wish it would, but why? Why do you deserve it? Your nails dig into your palms, leaving blood red moons.

“Why are you sorry?” Clarisse breathes, seeming more genuinely curious then demeaning. “Who’s Carter?”

You miss the way her lip curls around the name.

“I can’t tell you,” you moan, because Clarisse is the only person who actually gives half a fuck about you, and it feels so nice to have her eyes on you- not in the way everyone else does. They admire you, despise you, she appreciates you. She stares at you from afar and you both know that you want more, but she’s content to stare and you’re content to let her.

She laughs. “Yes, you can. I wouldn’t even care if you killed someone named Carter. But seeing as you escaped punishment from Chiron, and you only got locked in a shed, it’s probably not that bad.”

When you look up at her you can feel the mascara streaming down your face. You’re sure you look like a raccoon, and you can see how unnerving it is for her to see you- always so calm and put together- reduced to tears by a single name.

“I’m a daughter of Aphrodite, Clarisse.”

“I know,” she says, although it sounds like a question.

You stare at her, not able to say it, trying to convey to her with your eyes. You can practically see the cogs turning in her head as she thinks about the Aphrodite cabin.

“Oh,” she says. A few tears fall down your face. “The initiation thing- you have to break someone’s heart, right?”

“Yes,” you say, bitterly, resisting the urge to throw something and have a tantrum. You press your hands into your eyes, breathing heavily. “That stupid, stupid initiation. I hate being her daughter. I hate being like this.”

The hug starts out awkward. Clarisse places her arm lightly around your shoulders, starts mumbling apathetically that it’ll be okay. It’s not that she doesn’t care or anything, you’re both just foreign to what it’s like to feel this way for someone.

And it feels good to have someone touching you, so before you can stop yourself you’re shoving your way in her arms. She stiffens, sits up straight as your tears stain her orange camp shirt. But after a moment she hugs you back just as fiercely, with just as much desperation. She doesn’t say anything, probably because she doesn’t know what to say, and you can’t even comprehend your embarrassing, secret, unrealistic guilty pleasure of a crush is hugging you right now.

You’re too focused on the way she shushes you softly, her arm against your waist, the other around your shoulder- thumb drawing circles on your skin.

You’re too focused on the way she feels against you to even care about how awkward this will be later.

Finally, when night has really fallen and the wind starts to howl, you let go of Clarisse.

“Sorry,” you mumble, body locking up, staring firmly at the ground. Your face is caked in runny makeup- you feel as disgusting as you’re sure you look.

“It’s okay,” she says, hesitating for a moment before she stops touching you. “I, uh, I don’t think you should hate yourself.”

You scoff. Both at the ridiculousness of her stuttering and what she’s saying. “Whatever,” you mumble.

“No, I’m being serious.” She seems a little firmer now, like she really believes what she’s saying. But she doesn’t know you. “You shouldn’t hate yourself. Like, what do you even mean, you “hate being like this?’ What’s this?”

“I’m a monster, Clarisse. Literally, a fucking monster. I’m a horrible person, and yet everyone walks around and calls be princess because, what? I’m pretty? You can still be Aphrodite’s favorite and a monster. Maybe I am her favorite for a reason. Because of what I did.”

“A monster? Really?”

She looks at you like you’re the stupidest girl in the world. And Gods, coming from someone like Clarisse does that hurt.

You stare her down like you’re not about to cry. You squint so the tears won’t come, digging your nails into your palms to distract from the feeling in your stomach.

“I asked him to meet me at night. He told me he thought he loved me, and I laughed in his fucking face and said how could he ever think that I would love him? Who does that? Who is so fucked in the head?”

You look at her face, slightly twinged with disgust, and it feels good. It feels good to drive someone else away. To save them from yourself.

“This is my punishment. My life. And I hate it, but I know it’s what’s meant for me. I’ll never be loved. No matter how beautiful I am. I won’t let myself, I won’t hurt someone else. I don’t deserve it.”

She grabs your hand. You look at her, and she’s still so disgusted, so why is she touching you? Why is her face morphing into concern? Why does she still look at you like you’re this precious thing? Why do you like it? Why do you crave her like air?

“You don’t deserve this,” she says.

Why isn’t she listening to you?

“I don’t, Clarisse. Just- jus’ stop, please.”

But it finally hits you why she’s so disgusted. It’s not what you did, it’s the way you think about yourself.

“You came to camp when you were 12, right, so that’s when you completed your initiation? So, you were 12. You were 12 and listening to your older siblings. You were 12 and you made a mistake, and you’ve spent years and years punishing yourself over it. Most of the people at camp are blind, Y/N, but I’m not. I see the way you treat yourself, and that- you just don’t deserve that.”

“Fine,” you mumble, feeling a little breathless. “Maybe I was 12. But it’s too late. Everyone at camp thinks I’m a bitchy fucking princess.”

She smiles. “Well, you are.”

You throw her hand off of you and pretend to glare at her, but you’re smiling.

“You are a princess, Y/N, let me help you see it.”

Clarisse is your secret crush. She was a comfort for lonely nights, someone to think about when you were eating alone at dinner. And it didn’t help that she would stare at you while you imagined her sitting across from you. Clarisse is your secret crush, locked up in your chest and waiting to burst out like a cuckoo clock.

Clarisse is your secret crush, unrealistic and wishful thinking- but the way she looks at you right now makes it real.

The door clicks open.

“Oh,” Sasha, the girl yelling at you earlier says. “Sorry- I forgot my… uh…”

You quickly stand up, pushing Clarisse away from you. Sasha moves to the side and let’s you through the door. Against your better judgement, you stop and look over your shoulder.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“See you tomorrow, princess.”

—-

The next day, after waking up and realizing what happened yesterday wasn’t a bad dream, Clarisse is really doing something this sweet for you, you’re ready to forget it all ever happened and sit alone as you usually do.

You stand at the edge of the pavilion, searching across the tables for an empty one-

“Y/N!” Clarisse yells. She looks at you expectantly, and you notice the empty seat next to her.

Oh. She wants you to sit with her.

As beautiful and sweet Clarisse is, you still can’t let her be anything more than your secret crush. But you can sit with her for one meal. You can pretend, and maybe that will hold you over when you eventually succeed in pushing her away.

Your head was clouded by her touch, her smell, her voice- you weren’t in the right state of mind to be making decisions about “seeing Clarisse tomorrow.”

You stop at the fire pit in the middle of the pavilion.

“Please, Mom,” you mutter, dumping almost all of your plate into the flames.

This is probably the first time you’ve really prayed to her since the day you broke Carter’s heart.

You set your tray down next to her, swinging your legs over the bench and under the table, settling yourself in. Her siblings don’t even look up, all busy eating identical bagel sandwiches- you squint, resisting the urge to laugh at the cheese, bacon, sausage, and eggs. Ares kids are always eating the most gluttonous foods, seeing as they train 24/7.

Clarisse glares at your plate.

“What?” you say, shifting awkwardly in your seat.

“That is not enough food.” And while your plate mostly is empty space, you’re really not that hungry this morning.

You shrug. “I was in a praying mood today.”

“Don’t care, go get more.”

You roll your eyes, but you’d be lying if you said her concern didn’t make your stomach twist in a good way.

“Okay, I’ll grab something on my way out.”

She hums, turning back to your sandwich. All of her siblings are intent on eating their big sandwiches, a few people at the end of the table talk in between bites- but the Ares kids take breakfast very seriously. They’re a bit more rowdy at lunch and dinner, but breakfast is always such a sordid affair, like someone died.

Someone else sits at the table. You look up from your plate, watching as Van digs into his sandwich, sporting a black eye, a bruised cheek, and a busted lip.

“Oh,” you mumble, cringing at his bloody, messy face.

You look over at Clarisse, notice her knuckles are split open. She feels you looking at her and turns to you, a bite of half-chewed sandwich in her mouth.

“Wha-” she starts, but catches Van out of the corner of her eye. She giggles, just a bit, and it makes your stomach twist. “Oh, Van, you are one of the funniest people I have ever met.”

Everyone at the table turns to him.

A few giggle at his busted up face, Clarisse smiles at him in that demeaning way she’s famous for.

“Move.”

“I’m not fuckin’ movin’, Clarisse. Go fuck yourself.”

One of her siblings laughs loudly. Matty, you recognize him. “Dude, you’re seriously going to get beat up- again.”

“You are,” Clarisse shrugs. “I’m serious, move.”

Van rolls his eyes and sets his sandwich down.

“Listen, Carter’s my friend, he never wanted to get revenge, but I wanted to get it for him. I know it’d make him feel better. I was tryin’ to convince him to go fuck up her bed or something when… well, yeah. I didn’t mean to trap you in there with her, Clarisse, okay? I know you’re fuckin’ obsessed with her, whatever, but she’s a serious bitch. And not even that hot.”

Matty puts his head in his hands.

The table is deathly silent. He looks around.

“Come on. All those Aphrodite kids are stuck-up bitches, but she’s just got a particular rudeness about her, huh? And, really, I don’t think I could fuck her even if the world was ending.”

“What the fuck,” someone across from you, Max, mumbles. A girl adjacent to you coos softly, and you realize that there’s tears falling down your face.

Clarisse puts her hand on your thigh.

“Van,” she says, her voice calm and even. She breathes in and out. “I am going to fucking kill you.”

Van looks over to Clarisse, and that’s when he finally notices you sitting next to her.

“I-” he starts, but doesn’t get to finish, not when you pick up your tray and throw it across the table- hitting him directly in the nose. “Holy fuck!” he shouts. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, Gods, fuck-”

You stand up and make your way around the table, tears clouding your vision, and he quickly stands up as well. No one makes any move to hold you back or protect him.

“Bitch,” he hisses. “Huh? Come at me, princess.”

And you meet him, attacking like a feral cat, all scratching and kicking and hitting, a fury fueled fully by your anger and the beauty in letting it all go. He grunts and tries to hit you back, but they barely touch you.

You can see Clarisse out of the corner of your eye, watching closely, arms crossed over her chest. It takes you a second, but for some reason, you can see her face so clearly. She’s slightly worried. She watches the fight with an intensity, like she’s happy to let you fight him- but if he actually hurts you, then she’ll jump in. But more importantly, she’s proud.

Gods, does it make you feel good.

“Fucking- bitch!” he shouts. “Get off of me!”

He pushes you back, you steel yourself. When he sees you coming at him again, he punches you hard. You swear you see stars. You swear you almost met Hades, just for a second.

Blood runs down your face, gushing like a geyser- you groan, one of Clarisse’s siblings making you pinch your nose and tilt your head back. Matty puts his hand on your shoulder, and mutters something encouraging about keeping your head back.

It’s all a daze.

“Clarisse!” her sister Carrie shouts, trying to hold her back while Van scrambles away on the ground, yelling incoherently about his teeth. “Clarisse! Clarisse! You got him, you got him, c’mon.”

It all comes rushing over you. Adrenaline kept you sane just for moment, but all the pain comes rushing back, and you almost scream with how much it hurts. You double down, chest pressing to your stomach while Matty and someone else try desperately to pull you back upward.

“Oh, Gods, why does it hurt so bad?” you say, more blood gushing forward, even through your fingers. It’s running down your neck and chest, permanently ruining your shirt.

“Van has a good right hook,” Matty winces. “Ass at everything else, but.”

“Y/N,” Clarisse says. She’s in front of you in a moment, hands under your chin, forcing you to tilt your head back. You can feel your face is absolutely covered in blood. “Hey, it’s alright,” she says, so softly that you’re the only one who can hear. “Okay, I’ll take you to the infirmary, okay?”

Matty let’s go of you, Clarisse replaces him, arm wrapping around your waist, fingertips still keeping your chin up. You walk in silence until you reach the infirmary.

She chuckles a bit. “You’re good,” she says.

“At what?” you groan, eyes screwed shut. “Getting punched?”

“No,” she says. “Just… you’re good.”

One of the healers rushes over before you can even think of an answer.

—-

After your nose was reset, your shirt was changed, and all the blood was cleaned- you sat in the empty infirmary. Van was in a private room with most of the healers who were having a fun time trying to fix his face and do something with the teeth Clarisse knocked out.

She finds you slipping your shoes on, face puffy, a bag of ambrosia in your hand.

“Princess,” she says. “I told them it was all me. So, you’re fine. I made up some shit about you getting caught in the crossfire.”

Your chest deflates a bit. You were sort of looking forward to the punishment. “You didn’t have to do that, Clarisse.”

She shrugs. “I wanted to. And I do whatever I want.”

You smile, and she sits down next to you on the creaky bed.

“What’d you get?”

“Oh,” she sighs, hands on her knees. “5 months no dessert. 3 months of teaching sword practice to the little kids, that’s gonna be like Tartarus come again.”

“Sorry,” you mumble. “It’s all my fault.”

“I could have easily let the two of you beat each other to death. But I didn’t. You were too busy winning that fight to care about what I was doing.”

“I didn’t win,” you scoff. “If you didn’t jump in, the way he punched me, he got me.”

“You didn’t know about Van and his right hook,” she shrugs. “It’s okay. I fucked up his face a bit, but you did so much better.”

You’ve been permanently on the edge of tears because of the pressure in your nose, so when they spill over, it’s no surprise.

“W-why are you crying?” Clarisse asks, turning slightly towards you, placing her hand on your arm.

“Still a monster,” you remark, sarcastic smile on your face. “I shouldn’t have done that to him. I… I was just mad. And look, here I am escaping with no punishment yet again.”

You go to stand up, feeling like your heart is a hole in your chest.

She puts her hand on your thigh to stop you.

“I think… just the fact that you feel so bad means you’re not a monster. I don’t feel shit for Van. I’m glad he got hurt. I would do it again. I hope I get to do it again.”

“You’re horrible, Clarisse,” you smile. She smiles back.

“The only person I feel bad for is… you. You’re the only person I’ve ever felt bad for. Everyone else in this camp is blind, Y/N. But I’m not. Not when it comes to you.”

And it’s like you’re seeing her for the first time. The way her curls always stick up in that one place, the way her eyes reflect the sunlight streaming through the window, the way the rough skin of her hands is nothing compared to the bones inside that hold you so softly. The way her lips look. The way she calls you princess. The way she sees you.

You’re both leaning forward, you’re both just teenage girls learning to love themselves, because you’ve always loved each other.

When her lips finally meet yours it all comes rushing back to you. You gasp and pull away after just a moment.

“Sorry. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that-”

Clarisse grabs your face and kisses you.

“You’re not deleting that. I don’t care what you think of yourself right now,” she whispers, lips against yours. “Because you’re wrong, and I’m going to show you.”

And against your better judgement, you let her show you. She shows you with her hands in your hair, her hands on your neck, on your face, her lips against yours. You let her teach you love with just one kiss, and you decide you have a newfound appreciation for your mother.

If love feels this good, this beautiful, then you’ve been missing out.

This goes against everything you’ve been preaching for years. But you’ve found a new religion in her, you promise to listen to her and to feel what she makes you feel- no matter how wrong you think it is. Clarisse shows you it’s not wrong.

She finally pulls away for air, searching your eyes, but you can’t breathe when she’s not kissing you. She seems to like what she finds, because she smiles.

“You’re beautiful, princess,” she mutters, and kisses you again. “You’re beautiful, and you’re so kind, and I’ll show you what I’ve seen for years.”

Everyone calls you princess. But Clarisse says it differently. Clarisse says it like she’s caressing the word, pretending to caress you. Clarisse says it in the way you want her to say it, in the way that selfishly makes you feel so, so special. Clarisse says it like she knows you.

You were right. You’re not meant for love, it’s not meant for you. You’re meant for Clarisse.

—-

carter watching literally everyone fight over smth ridiculously stupid that happened when he was 12 and he got over 2 weeks after it happened: uh 🧍‍♂️🧍‍♂️

—-

clarisse when she realizes y/n hates herself: WHAT????? HOW IS THIS???? HUH????? like she just doesn’t even understand she can’t comprehend it

y/n after hating herself for like 5 years and pretending she’s chill: 🤗

—-

van after he loses his teeth: 😞

clarisse when van loses his teeth: LETS GO FUCK THAT BITCH

—-

clarisse being y/n’s new religion btw 🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭

—-

taglist:

@lvrue @t-wylia @laughingcheese037 @kroumi @urdeadpoet @colezb @rey26 @harmzilla @elliewilliamsbae @amberfreemansburntface @kyuupidwrites @neverwaakeme-up @shark1008 @liballer @heyimadison @nvirskies @pnsteblnme @mar2ss @restellsss @ravisinghs-wife @marsconer @evangelinexo @randomhoex @luvrrish

#clarisse la rue #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse la rue x y/n #clarisse la rue x you #pjo tv show #pjo x reader

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crazycookies73307 · 2 months

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It's amazing just how much you're willing to do for someone when you like them.

In the romantic sense, I mean.

When you platonically like someone you'd do anything for them, as long as you're able to handle it.

When you romantically like someone, though? That's a whole different level we're talking about.

When you romantically like someone, you'd do anything for them, even if it's sometimes beyond your capabilities.

You might be drowning in your own sorrows, but their suffering always feels like a greater loss. So much so that you feel as though you'd bear their pains on top of your own, just so that they wouldn't have to.

You might find yourself terribly busy, but you always manage to make time for them. You might not know anything related to their interests, so despite being behind on just about everything else, you still somehow manage to learn about them.

Granted, all this is applicable to platonic love as well, but somehow, you felt that romantic love had a certain magical feel to it.

Maybe it was the influence of too many Disney movies, but who cares.

But in the same way, it was also amazing just how much you're not willing to do for someone who you don't like.

Again, in the romantic sense.

See, this is what you meant about the difference between platonic and romantic love. As far as life has worked out for you, when you romantically like someone, you'd find a way to give them the moon and when you just platonically like someone, you'd barely be willing to give them a polished pebble.

Or maybe, you just have shitty friends.

Correction, shitty friend.

You'd do anything for him, even it meant your own doom, but God forbid if the same applied to you.

Their messages were read as soon as they were delivered. Yours was left on delivered for a while.

They ask him for a favour, he'd do it. Granted, it would take a bit of convincing. But for you? Yeah, dream on.

Situations arose where you'd be partnered together. And more than half the time, you know he'd rather be paired with someone else. A certain someone else.

Unless your help was necessary, that is.

Somehow, you had the solutions for everyone's problems.

The advisor, the helper, the mother, the tutor, the therapist, the mentor.

It also sucked that you were an enigma for the rest. You somehow managed to stay on the top of your game despite taking on more and more.

But few knew of your disastrous tendency to procrastinate. Pair it with your perfectionistic attitude and it was a recipe for a disaster, the result being an extremely stressed, sleep deprived and caffeine high you.

You still pushed through, though.

Out of sheer spite and willpower, but still.

The fact was, that you were a busy person. And it's a universal truth that busy people are always stressed.

When you were a busy person with a stupid crush on a guy you know you've got zero chance with, it made your stress ten times worse.

It was as though the universe was against you.

The perfect guy, one who actually wasn't your type, but ended up redefining your idea of your ideal type to fit himself in.

The one guy who you knew, was not necessarily a bad match for you, personality wise anyways. Lord knows if there's anything else lurking beneath.

The one guy who managed to make your tough attitude melt into absolute nothing.

The one guy who managed to make you, who dreamt of lazy rainy evenings and warm tea , end up dreaming about the mushy stuff. Stuff you wouldn't normally dream about, not with a clear cut idea anyway, like your dates, hugs, talks, and even your marriage.

Especially your marriage.

The one guy who managed to break down a lot of your walls, the one guy you felt safe with, the one guy you knew you could trust openly, and you couldn't have him.

For reasons out of your control, you just weren't what he was looking for.

You were good enough to help him.

You were good enough to listen to his troubles.

You were good enough to be used as an excuse for when crap went sideways, because after all, you were trusted.

You were kind, after all. His words, not yours.

It's kind of embarassing, just how much you were willing to do for his sake, and just how little you expected him to do for you.

What you wanted were your thoughts, emotions and actions returned. What you received, was an entirely different matter.

He cared about her,worried about her, and for better or for worse, cried for her. To the extent that you sometimes wished you could stab yourself rather than to witness the scenes unfold.

If he was so capable of such emotions, so capable of freely expressing them, then why was it that he never even gave an ounce of it your way?

Were you worthy of the bare minimum effort? The bare minimum care?

Were you worth so little?

Was that it?

Was that why you were always, always one of the lowest of his priorities?

Maybe it was a you problem, maybe it had nothing to do with him.

But was it really?

Was it really your fault that he chose her over you, every single time?

Was it really your fault, when he made the choice to prioritise her needs over his own, and then come crying to you?

Was it really your fault, when he decided to play a dangerous game of chase with her, willingly allowing you to be the first hand witness to their game?

Was it really your fault, when despite you being there to help him out of his messes, especially regarding hers, he still went running to her for comfort?

They created the messes that you had to clean up.

They were the ones who made bad life choices and come running to you for advice.

They were the ones who were involved in the god forsaken game of cat and mouse, somehow dragging you into the middle of the mess.

They were the ones who forced you into a corner sometimes, with you being needed to cover for them, in the face of a lot of people.

They were the ones who had to be careful in their so-called games, but you were the one forced to enforce the said caution.

In their point of view, you were the villain in their story.

Always poking around, ruining a part of their fun.

But they also know that they were the ones who forced you into the role. That someone was needed to possess the common sense that they lacked. Of course, whether they listened to the said common sense was another matter entirely.

Granted, sometimes you enjoyed putting them in their places a bit too much.

Despite his devil may care attitude when it came to anyone other than her, you knew that he did care for you. You knew that he did consider you to be a friend. After all, you did spend a lot of time together for you to just be named an acquaintance.

It was just that his efforts towards you paled in comparison to those directed towards her.

It also didn't help that he trusted you enough that he knew you'd not betray him, or his feelings that even he himself was kind of oblivious about. It was obvious to you both that he had certain questionable feelings, definitely not of the platonic type, towards her but you knew him well enough to know he'd rather ignore them for the sake of his sanity. At the cost of your own, you admit.

You were the one he cried to about things related to her, you were the one who knew that he was actually completely whipped for her. Not that he was good at hiding it, just about everyone could see it. It was just that you were the only one who was aware of the extent of it.

Sometimes you were sick of playing the adult. Sometimes you wanted to shake him out of this stupid mess he called his feelings. Sometimes you wanted to scream at him, of how you wanted out.

Out of everything that you never wanted to get yourself into.

Sometimes, you wanted him to just get over himself and confess, after all, atleast then you didn't have to see him pine around for someone else.

The rest of the time you were content about being there for him, regardless of the toll it took on your emotions.

Something is better than nothing, right?

And while you were torturing yourself with their roundabout pining, you'd rather be the first to find out if they ever decided to commit. At least you could get the time to prepare your poor, poor heart for when you'd have to break the reality to it.

The same heart, that despite the torturous wait, still hoped that he'd look your way. That he'd find that what he was looking for all this while, was actually right next to him.

That your efforts would be rewarded.

They had to be, right?

No deity was cruel enough to let all those efforts, those feelings, those thoughts, those tears, be for nothing, right?

Your mind said otherwise, but your foolish heart stubbornly kept on believing.

You knew, heartbreak was the only outcome of this stupid situation that you'd gotten yourself into.

You just hoped that when the time came, they would be kind enough to break it cleanly into two, rather than shatter it completely into tiny pieces.

At least it would be easier to put it back together.

Hopefully, anyways.

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randompoetemogirl · 10 months

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Analysis of Ambrosius

If you’ve read my previous posts, then you’ll know that I have a theory that Ambrosius was forced/pressured to bleach his hair at a young age to be a better poster child for The Institute. Now, I want to delve a bit more into his character.

We know Ambrosius is good right from the beginning. He encourages Ballister, acknowledges that Ballister has had to work twice as hard as everyone else, and says that the people will love him just like he does. He even encourages Ballister right before he’s about to be knighted.

Then crap hit the fan.

Ambrosius cuts off his boyfriend’s arm. He didn’t mean to, it’s literally stated that he did what he was trained to do. The Queen was attacked and he acted in reflex. Still, he feels guilty about this. He doesn’t use this as an excuse to justify himself, he KNOWS he did the wrong thing. But at the same time, is there even a RIGHT thing to do in that situation?

We then see him anxiously think about the situation in his head. “ARM CHOPPING IS NOT A LOVE LANGUAGE.” It’s very clear that his mind is racing. This is the first instance where we see some of Ambrosius’ anxiety. Very often in media, anxiety is always shown at the very extreme: Panic attacks, not being able to talk to people, not being able to lead, ect. And while a lot of people do struggle with these things if they have really bad anxiety, there’s people like me who can lead very well in a group setting, make our way through a touch conversation, and hold our own ground. But at the same time, there are days when I’m walking my dogs and I cross the street just to avoid making eye contact or saying hi to a random person I’ll never see again. Sometimes I don’t have the courage to correct someone or I can’t raise my hand in class even though I know the right answer.

Ambrosius is the perfect example of this. He’s a leader, albeit he was kind of forced to be a leader but a leader nonetheless, and openly stated his own opinions and thoughts. But at the same time, he had no idea how to deal with the crowd of people surrounding him while looking for Ballister. For Pete’s sake, he literally SIGNED AN AUTOGRAPH FOR ONE OF THEM. He could have shoved his way past the crowd and shouted for everyone to get out the way, he had every right to, but he didn’t. He didn’t even so much as raise his voice until he got to the escalator.

I mentioned this in a previous post, so I’ll copy and paste it here:

“Ballister shouting out to the waiter not to add olives because Ambrosius is allergic. Not only does this let us know how well the two know each other, but notice how it’s Ballister, not Ambrosius, who tells the waiter this. I believe that Ambrosius is a very anxious person do to all the pressure he’s been put under all his life and may find it hard to speak up for himself at times. Ballister has probably demanded that they don’t put olives on his nachos for years because of this very reason.”

I think a lot of people can relate to this. Ambrosius can lead other knights, sword fight, hunt down his ex and his ex’s adopted daughter, but can’t remind the waiter not to put olives of his food, something he LITERALLY cannot eat. Another way I relate to Ambrosius is being able to be confident/snarky in the right settings. This may be because this is how The Institute has raised him, as stated in a theory in my previous post that Ambrosius was forced to bleach his hair from a young age to look more like Gloreth. I wouldn’t be surprised if he was taught to act bold and courageous in front of the cameras too. During his knighting ceremony, he’s whoops to the crowd and even seems very confident in his commercials, but surround him with a group of people and he can’t choose the right course of action.

Even if Ambrosius wasn’t purposefully written to suffer from anxiety, I still think he’s a well written character that won’t soon be forgotten. He’s complex, he’s loyal, he’s loving, and most of all, his hair smells like lavender as confirmed by Todd.

#goldenheart #nimona film #ballister boldheart #nimona #ballister blackheart #ambrosius goldenloin

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polutrope · 3 months

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Arafinwëan caffeine habits

Finarfin: Makes a large glass pot of jasmine pearl tea every morning and sips it while going through the morning’s work from a handmade cup Indis gave him. Will drink coffee socially but doesn’t particularly like it. Orders whatever everyone else is having.

Eärwen: Strong black tea with honey in the mornings, iced in summer. Enjoys a matcha latté now and then, unsweetened, but only if she’s confident the café prepares it properly.

Finrod: Doesn’t really need caffeine but loves the Expérience of the café. Scans the menu for something he’s never tried and enthusiastically asks the barista what it is and whether they like it, and what’s their favourite drink? And what about their favourite pastry? He’ll have one of those please, and another half-dozen to-go (for friends/family/colleagues, of course). Likes to have his order to stay when there’s time and if it's busy will happily take the excuse to ask someone sitting alone if he can join them.

Orodreth: Makes his own coffee in a percolator, for some reason. If found ordering it, he speedruns a full emotional arc in the four seconds it takes to approach the counter then hastily orders a drip coffee. Becomes nervous when asked what roast, size, and whether he needs room, even though he always gets medium roast medium size and always takes cream. Never says anything if the barista gets his order wrong.

Angrod: Americano, black. Latté with coconut or equally unusual flavouring if he’s feeling interesting. Will tell the barista if they get his order wrong. Nicely -- if a little intensely.

Aegnor: Enables Fingon’s cola habit because he, too, has one. Or had. He immediately gave it up when Andreth looked askance at the three 2L bottles in his refrigerator. Now limits to two cups of drip coffee in the morning. Sometimes three. Okay maybe four, on really long days. Lactose intolerant but can't stand black coffee or alternative milks, and will use regular milk and suffer if lactose-free isn't available.

Galadriel: Triple-shot espresso with a teaspoon of sugar every morning. When not in need of a good hit of caffeine, she enjoys a chai latté but, like her mother, only if the café knows how to make a good one. None of that chai concentrate crap.

Nolofinwëans | Fëanorians

#arafinweans #finarfin #earwen #finrod #angrod #aegnor #orodreth #galadriel #silm caffeine habits

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jocelynhealy · 3 months

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Did someone say more Kombat Kids? No? Too bad!

Kenshi and Takeda make the same “tch” sound when they are annoyed.

Cassie has been kicked out of multiple bars for punching dudes in the face when they won’t leave her/other girls alone. Like father, like daughter.

Cassie runs a TikTok account where she cronicals the random misadventures of the SF squad.

Most of the technology at the Shirai Ryu was pretty dated growing up, with entertainment mostly consisting of old VHS tapes and a few dvds, so Takeda mostly grew up on 80’s and 90’s media. His favorites were Crocodile Dundee and The Golden Girls.

Jin has a collection of souvenirs he’s gathered from every mission. These range from cool looking rocks, dropped weapons, or even small bits of uniforms from fallen foes. He can recount the stories related to each and every one of them and delights in doing so if someone asks.

Everyone agrees that Jacqui is the most terrifying member of the team because she does not need some kind of special power passed down from some mystical ancestor to beat the crap out of someone. She has fists for that.

Frost suffers from frequent nightmares and when they get particularly bad the only thing that can lull her back to sleep is a very specific recipe for hot chocolate Kuai Liang makes.

Takeda has an irrational fear of those antique porcelain dolls so naturally when Jin found this out it became his life’s mission to lock him in a room full of them.

Cassie once made the mistake of admitting that she had really wanted a brother growing up and Takeda and Jin spent the rest of the day annoying the shit out of her to “show her what she missed out on”.

Sonya once tried to enforce a swear jar to encourage professionalism amongst the team but that ended when Frost and Jin put $50 in the jar each and just started yelling “fuck” at the top of their lungs repeatedly for an hour.

No one encourages the chaotic nature of the kids more than Kung Lao. Watching them give everyone else a hard time brings him a sort of joy that he can enjoy only describe as “payback”.

Kung Lao is the one that made the engagement ring Takeda gave to Jacqui. It is one of his proudest works and keeping the whole thing secret was difficult because Jin kept trying to butt his nose in trying to figure out why his best friend was suddenly spending a lot of time talking with his uncle.

A lot of the grunts working for the SF have a distrust of Takeda due to his status as an outsider and a Shirai Ryu, some even thinking he’s just there to spy on them for the clan. No one voices these complaints though because the last guy that did got the snot beat out of him by Jacqui. Same thing with the person who said Cassie only got her position because of her mother. Now everyone keeps their mouths shut and stay far, far away from the specialist.

Both Frost and Takeda are completely incapable of sitting in a chair normally. Takeda always perches on the arm or on the back of a sofa or bench, while Frost is always sitting sideways, leaning back against the arms.

Jin first thought that most of the team only ever tolerated his presence which caused him to act out, further alienating him from them. Frost of course saw right through him and called him out on it privately. Since then he’s been getting better at recognizing that the others actually do really want him there and enjoy his company, but sometimes the insecurities rise back up.

Hanzo found out Jacqui was dating his Chujin by visiting him at the SF base one morning, and was about to knock on his door only for it to open revealing Jacqui, who had very clearly spent the night, dressed in one of Takeda’s shirts, about to leave. That was a very, very awkward morning and a very embarrassing conversation that they do not speak of.

#mortal kombat #mk10 #mkx #mk11 #kombat kids #frost mk #cassie cage #takeda takahashi #jacqui briggs #kung jin

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lizaluvsthis · 3 months

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SMG4: CEO OF RIZZ

To where you needed an alternative title, "Boopkins needs some Rizz"

Person: Hey L- *gets crushed by a piano*

HGG OKAY.... SO... first off I just WOKE up. And our usual spot again is that the coffee shop keeps appearing in the episodes.

(Cough- Brewing Romance is still on the line so when you keep seeing the coffee shop getting shown by the episodes, you'll be darned to not stop thinking about Brewing Romance...)

Three and kaizo are shown, which made it very clear that some of us headcanon three as an uncle and kaizo as the nephew XD

So boopkins has a date with this famous girl and three helps boopkins get his rizz in order to achieve his restaurant getting popular.

No... NO... NOOOOOOOO PLEASE TELL ME THIS IS JUST A COINCIDENCE... PLEASE DEAR GOD- I JUST REDREW THIS MORDETWI MEME... IS THIS A F-CKING MESSAGE?

TELL ME THIS IS A COINCIDENCEEEEE *shakes the person who put it there on purpose*

I noticed the igloo...

... LUKE- LUKEEEEEEE????????????

HOW THE HELL DID I PREDICT THIS JUST BY DRAWING THREE WEARING THE CASINO OUTFIT-

There is just no way... @shygirl4991 SHAY... SHAYYYYYYY?????? THEY KNOW.... THEY'VE SEEN...

Thus... the western hat worn by four still remains there...

I somehow found this one very interesting, I mean- I wouldnt be a shock if it's miku already. Since somehow it's boopkins, and the girl he'd been the one to date are something from fictional stuffs. I never guessed miku but I guessed that it was some anime related.

Then we get- to see this...its a side to side comparisson of how four and three act alot like this when they needed something.

Here comes the begging strategy... so if you put two and two together, they ended up giving them what they wanted with the same "fine" to make that person shut up.

This also leads to how three is never that much aware that his actions in public is drawn attention that he is less destructful and is in his soft side.

Like how he did the same in SMG4 during that time before they both got stuck on an elevator? Three gave him a chance to stop his whining ass. Like he didn't even argue or straight up complained to the blue man, he just basically gave him what he wanted.

This portrays the same thing Miku does as she goes back and returns to the date she has with boopkins.

It'd be a shock if I were to say I weren't that much very cultured on anime stuff but Umaru used to be my favorite childhood show.

Its funny that miku has interests on being a fan of other animes since again- miku is a vocaloid character who sings songs out on public.

When boopkins gave out his moral lesson about "just you being you" and "you dont have to change who you are even tho you're not that much of a gigachad" or sh-t

Because we have three- WHO IS DEFINITELY DONE WITH HIS CRAP- I wouldn't be suprised to this honestly- we already know how SMG3 reacts when boopkins is there, and even with those comments about how he has beef with him about "boopkins bein a loser, he really thinks he's part of the crew"

We pretty much understand how Three isn't a much fan on fiction anime stuff or is even a weeb. Just by looks of Boopkins, he's the one who shows as an openly hearted and a very generous, loyal, kindest creature to have.

But three thinks it's a sh-t because no one else is perfect and that this doesnt matter too much at all to him since EVERYONE is broken enough already.

Which defines him as the emo person in question:

"What the hell is the meaning of life, when you know nothing ever changes shit with where we all still suffered?"

Three is just so desparate enough to run his business and would literally want its popularity get expanded for newcomers to try and welcome themselves from the cafe, mostly enough he'd do anything and EVERYTHING with this power.

That calls out for another hyperfixation.

I never have much to say in this but I somehow found the episode a bit on the neutral side between good or bad-

The episode is... well.... i dunno- interesting, but somehow with attempts on making boopkins "uncharacterize" himself to be a rizzler is weird, but this definitely shows why boopkins doesnt have that kind of rizz SMG3 has.

... *suddenly remembers SMG4 singing that gyatt to rizzler song*

AH-AHEHE-M UHH...

A-anyway- again- my point stands out that Three definitely haz rizz, and Four definitely is lying to the fact that he says he 'doesnt' during the elevator episode.

I'd think about wanting to put Three on a rizz attempt on four still XD (people are gonna go crazy on this)

#lizaluv #smg4 #smg3 #smg4 smg3 #lizafixates #fishy boopkins #smg4 boopkins #miku #miku hatsune #hatsune miku #slight smg34 #smg34

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grievedeeply · 2 months

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the less time the better. pt 8.

PREVIOUS | NEXT — SERIES TAGLIST

pairing: heimdall x gn!reader

summary: days have passed since the kiss you shared with heimdall, and while you try to figure out what it means for your relationship— the group prepares for war.. and suffers a massive loss.

notes: this chapter is just straight angst. sorry in advance but it was a necessary evil.... ignore any plot holes please..... and also please let me know if you want to be tagged in this series! my taglist is really old and im sure ppl have lost interest, so let me know if you want to be removed as well.

you awoke from your sleep with a jolt. you had never gotten used to the rough feeling of wood pressed against your skin as you slept. even if it was the same material you usually slept on while you were home in midgard, your circumstances were different. back then, you didn't have to worry about a war with one of the most powerful gods in the realms. you only had to worry about what to make for dinner. now, you had much more to think about. including your strange relationship with the god of foresight, heimdall.

a part of you still regretted taking his wrist in your hand that day. it still wasn't that long ago, but you wondered how different things would be now if you hadn't.

the atmosphere was tense in the house. you swore there had been maybe 20 words spoken between everyone. people looked over their shoulder, wary of heimdall's every move. in a way, you couldn't blame them. after all, he was odin's son. the son of the man who had ruined their entire lives, and he had yet to state his side. but he wasn't fighting, either. ever since he had arrived.. you noticed that. he never fought the idea of being used as leverage. after your conversation. you supposed you understood why.

ratatoskr had since found out of heimdall's presence on his tree, and he was less than happy about it. but still, he had remained polite despite his grievances. you did notice how he seemed to be around less, though. you couldn't help but to assume that was due to heimdall.

freyr hadn't gotten any used to him being around, and you didn't think he ever would. he was quieter— less himself. you hated seeing him that way.. but the vote you had made days prior was a fair one. you thought he had trouble seeing him as anything but a member of the family who burned him. he couldn't even see him as leverage.

your father jumped into gear the morning after. he was completely prepared to do whatever was necessary to protect atreus.. and yourself, by extension. you knew little of his time in his homeland. it was something he didn't speak of much, but you did know he killed gods there. he seemed ready to have to do it again, but not at all eager about it.

"none of us are safe, even here." tyr murmured from where he sat at the end of of the table. it was far too small for him, and his knees hit at the wood on the edges, but it was almost a funny sight. "so we have no choice." freya responded simply. "we find surtr, sound gjallarhorn, and bring odin to justice. now."

you glanced uncomfortably over your shoulder at heimdall, who stared blankly at the group from where he stood, leaning against the wall. you watched as his hand fell to the horn on his hip.

"you'd incinerate every soul in asgard and call it self defense?"

"does he ever suggest plans or just crap on everyone elses?" freyr murmured, leaning back against the table in the kitchen.

"the obvious plan is staring you in the face," tyr ignored him, "we don't need odin to use this. we can slip into asgard and do it ourselves, right under his nose. we gain the knowledge we need to shatter his prophecy of war once and for all."

"except— begging your pardon— you don't have a way into asgard." sindri replied.

"they got the big horn, don't they?" brok called out from their working space.

"oh, so you expect them to sneak into asgard blowing a horn that sounds across all the realms?"

"i expect you to bite my blue buttcheek!"

"please. just.. think about it." tyr said.

you watched as atreus sat the mask down on the table. you had let him look at it. he had read the runes, inspected the design.. but nothing seemed to make sense outside of that crack you had told him about that odin had in his basement. your father sat mimir down next to it.

"this mask," he started, picking it up. "the easy answers that it promises. i know this.. shortcuts always have a price."

he turned his focus to you, brows knitted together. this expression that he wore wasn't one you saw often. he was worried. "you have carried it. what do you think?" he asked.

you let out a breath. "i don't know. at best.. it's a chance." you said with a shrug of your shoulders. you didn't know what it was or what it entailed, but you knew it was important to odin. "if nothing else, it's leverage. we have something he wants. if it really gives us all the answers, maybe no one has to die."

"grand. now all we need's a way to asgard." mimir replied simply.

you watched as your father's gaze shifted to tyr, and hesitantly, so did yours. "i know i've been a burden to you all," he started, readjusting himself in the seat, "i know you've questioned why you even pulled me out of that hole. i have too."

he stood, walking around the table. something changed in his stride. you wondered where his sudden boost of confidence seemed to come from. but maybe this was what you needed. "i have too. but it's clear now. this is what i'm needed for. this is my purpose. one last time. i will pick up my spear and.. i will lead us to asgard."

"'scuse me, but if you got a way to asgard, where's that idea been this whole fuckin' while?" brok asked.

"that's.. rather a fair question, brother."

"you.. withheld asgard?" your father asked, pushing himself to his feet. something in his eyes shifted. anger. you recognized that look all too well.

"you would've gotten us all killed. and we needed to give the champion time to find their destiny. here it is." tyr picked up the mask off the table, and you shrunk into yourself. you hated being called the champion. it didn't feel like you, really.

"it's all led to this."

"if we can get inside, i'm going after odin." freya said.

"i will not stop you. we can do both."

"spot on, brother. if the mask doesn't give us an out, we'll still have the drop on him."

"works for me." freyr spoke through his food.

"let's do it, then."

"and quickly, before he sees us coming."

"he does hate surprises."

you looked back over at heimdall, who had silently gotten much closer to you while you were involved in the conversation. he stood a foot or so behind you, brows knitted together. "heimdall," you started, cutting off anyone else from speaking before they even could. "is there.. another way into asgard?"

he looked over at you, then back at tyr. his eyes were filled with something else, something you couldn't exactly pinpoint.

"no." he replied after a pause, staring at the taller god. the rest of the group only stared at him.

"i still wanna hear the details on this, uh, new way to asgard you got. spill it!" brok said after a moment. if anyone knew another way to asgard out of everyone in the room, it would've been heimdall. he wouldn't have lied, would he? was that something he would do to you after everything that happened the other night? you decided not to think about it.

"it's an ancient path. we can't reach it from here." tyr said, moving around brok to continue walking.

"where then?" he pushed, following after him quickly.

"let me collect my things and i'll show you." tyr replied frustratedly. you furrowed your eyebrows together. brok was right. something about this just.. wasn't making sense.

"you ain't got no things. and where you goin' with that mask?" he smacked it out of tyr's hand, and you watched as it went flying. "that belongs to y/n, they earned it! all you done was make passable dirt soup!"

"brok, it's okay." you muttered in an attempt to de-escalate whatever you were watching unfold. "no, it ain't." he responds without missing a beat. "this ain't right. all the pieces ain't weldin' together true. like, what's with him calling you, 'loki,' anyway?" brok asked, turning his gaze to atreus.

now that he had mentioned it.. you had never heard tyr call him atreus. he had only called him loki. the name your mother gave for him to the giants. no one had ever called him loki.

"you know that ain't his name! hey, i'm talkin' to you!"

"do you NEVER shut up?"

you watched as tyr shifted into someone else. odin. his knife dug into brok, completely tearing through his clothing and diving into his skin. the weapon was covered in his blood, and you could only watched as he fell to the floor. "brok!" sindri called, kneeling at his side.

behind you, you could feel heimdall drawing his weapon. his eyes lingered on the scene before him. this is what odin did to people. this is what he would've done to him, had he stayed.

in your state of shock, odin wrapped an arm around your shoulders, the knife that was just used to stab brok held at the skin of your neck. he pulled you backwards, and even though you resisted, you knew it was ultimately no good. would you die here? would brok?

"of all the things.." odin murmured.

"odin." your father said, anger filling his eyes.

"let go and face me!" freya called, sword held in her hand. freyr stood at her side, and atreus at the other. heimdall took a place by your father. despite the risk of your life ending, you stared at him. he was facing his father. he had his sword drawn, his brows furrowed together. this was an expression you had never seen on his face before. anger.

"tell your brother to throw me the mask, and you've got a deal." odin said.

"stop moving."

"freya!" sindri called out, eyes focused on his dying brother. you wanted to sob. you wanted to do anything but be here in the grasp of the man you hated the most.

"if he dies.."

"now, now. wasn't part of the plan. but if he dies.." odin's gaze shifted to his son. "we are square for heimdall. and honestly, you got a bargain."

"i will kill you. plan on that."

"so nice spending time with you again."

"freya, please!" sindri begged, finally looking up at her.

"ah ah ah. can't be in two places at once, frigg."

freya shifted backwards, kneeling at brok's side. freyr stepped over, and with him, so did heimdall.

"hey, i don't move, you don't move. don't do anything you'll regret."

"i regret many things. killing you will not be one of them."

"i am in control here!" odin yelled. "throw me the mask, now!"

you watched as your father's gaze shifted from you to atreus, to freyr. he threw the mask after what felt like the longest few seconds of your life, and you lurched out of the allfather's grasp. atreus leaped at him, taking the form of a wolf as he did so. he was shoved out of the way, and he picked the mask up off of the floor.

"too bad." he said, looking directly at you. "looks like war after all."

as he stepped backwards into the doorway, your father hurled a spear at him. you hadn't seen this weapon before, but that was the least of your concerns. the tip of the spear pinned the mask against the wall, and odin slipped out of view. you breathed out a sigh of relief.. but that didn't last for long. you turned around and the view of brok and sindri together on the floor only broke your heart once again.

"please, you have to save him. you have to." sindri said, watching as freya tried her best to heal him. your heart sank into your stomach. there was nothing more she could do, and brok knew it. "he can't.. you can't.. maybe if i go back to the lake.."

"stop it. i know what you done. and i forgives ya. but y'gotta stop. y'gotta let go."

"brok?"

sindri stared down at his brother, now lifeless in his arms. he looked towards the ceiling, and disappeared.

"this.. whole time?" atreus murmured.

freyr appeared at your side, extending the mask out. you stared at it for a moment, before looking up at him. you took it out of his hands, your fingers pressing against it. you hated this thing. it took everything in you to not just destroy it right now.

"so.. what do we do now?" he questioned.

"now..?" freya repeated. she paused, picking up her sword. "now we kill odin. and anyone who gets in our way."

"atreus. y/n. come." your father said.

"what? where?" atreus asked.

"it does not matter." he muttered. you had never seen him look so.. defeated. you felt it too, but he was always so good at hiding how he felt. seeing him like this only hurt you further. brok meant a great deal to him, and you knew that. he meant a great deal to you, too.

"where are you going?" freya said.

"we are done."

he walked away and you were left standing with everyone else, watching as he turned to the door. you took in a deep breath. you squeezed your eyes closed, but followed after him. you stopped after a second, turning to look at heimdall.

you pressed the mask into his hands. "i'll be back." you said, your voice coarse. your throat felt dry. you wanted to scream. you wanted to cry. you probably would. but not right now.

you turned away from him, and followed after your father and brother wordlessly.

"you can't run away from this, kratos. odin won't stop until we stop him!" freya called after him, but her words were only meant with silence.

he pushed open the door, and you stepped onto the yggdrasil.

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#god of war x reader #gow x reader #god of war #heimdall x reader #god of war ragnarok #heimdall god of war #heimdall #heimdall gow #heimdall x you #gow heimdall x reader #gow heimdall x you #god of war heimdall #gow heimdall

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octo-hyacinth · 2 years

Note

HI HELLO IT’S OKAY UWU It’s me, your friendly neighborhood chronically ill anon who made the request!🖤 The request was for dorm leaders(with Malleus and Idia replaced with Jamil and either Rook or the Leech Boys) and how they would be with a Prefect S/O who’s chronically ill(weak due to back/joint pain, struggles to exert themselves too hard as it causes trouble breathing, has dizzy spells and nausea, etc.)but does their best to manage it and keep a positive outlook, even on the rough days!

Hello, my lovely anon! thanks so much for the requests, anddd im sorry if these hc’s don’t really apply to you, but i promise i tried bc you deserve to be comforted by your favorite boys <3

~~~~~

The Boys with a Chronically Ill S/O

Characters: Riddle Rosehearts, Leona Kingscholar, Azul Ashengrotto, Kalim Al-Asim, Vil Schoenheit, Jamil Viper, Floyd and Jade Leech

Content Warnings: total fluff, written on mobile, these boys are so smitten with you its not even funny, mentions of drugs(?)/getting high in Jade’s but its just cuz of his shrooms

A/N: guys omg i finally figured out how to get motivation to write omg [i immediately keel over and die from being scholastically overwhelmed] but putting life’s crap aside, this was actually quite fun to write!

Riddle Rosehearts

Initially very upset when he sees that you tend to push yourself and ignore your pain and exhaustion on a daily basis.

With how much he fusses over you, you’re half convinced there’s a rule about this situation somewhere, but no, he’s just like an angry mother hen, pecking at you constantly to take a break, or running to Sam’s store to get you painkillers or whatever else you need at all.

Totally wants to yell at Vargas when he hears that he was pushing you a bit too hard in PE, and you got super exhausted as a result and had to force yourself to take a break.

However, Riddle’s very proud of you for powering through every day despite your sickness and pain. He doesn’t know very many people at the rest of the school who could endure what you have without complaining.

During the evenings, he likes to sit with you in bed and have a few cups of tea while going over homework or just having nice conversation, whether that’s just how your day went or deeper topics, whatever you want to do, he’ll do, for you.

Sometimes he’ll ask Trey to bake you some sort if pastry or sweet, if you so desire. If not, then he’ll treat you to whatever you want at the cafeteria for lunch, and every time he’s fighting the urge to yell at Crowley for not supplying you with enough funds to have a comfortable life like everyone else.

No matter what, he always wants to support you and ease your suffering however he can, you just have to tell him what you want, and he’ll do it. He may be the ‘Queen’ of Heartslabyul, but he’ll always be there to serve you.

Leona Kingscholar

At first, he probably doesn’t even know that there’s such a thing as an illness that causes you nausea, and bodily weakness, and everything else. Because he kind of grew up around royalty, he was only ever around people who received the best healthcare money could buy, and never really stopped to consider there were people like you who weren’t exactly in top shape.

He never blamed you for it, though. If anything, he was irritated at whatever created you and decided to mess up your body like that. Why shouldn’t you get to live painlessly, and be able to run free and do whatever you want without getting dizzy and nauseous? Bullshit.

Always dragged you away from PE class (and maybe other classes too) to go nap with him. He tended to unconsciously hold onto you like he was trying to protect you from the illness trying to snatch you away. Maybe if you slept by his side enough, all that stuff would fade, and maybe you could sleep peacefully enough to dream about a world where you could live without this chronic garbage. That’s what he said, anyway.

He DEFINITELY yells at Vargas when he’s picking on you, no restraint to be seen anywhere. Leona’s very protective of you like that.

When you’re out and around the school, he’s not by your side all the time (can’t come off as clingy, now, can we?) but he meets you in the halls when he can, and subtly praises you for making it through the day so far.

Sends Ruggie to get you painkillers, nausea medicine, your favorite snacks, anything. Doesn’t care how much it costs, if it’s for you.

Azul Ashengrotto

Once he becomes aware of your chronic illness (and he finds out very fast. He’s a well-informed boy), he’s dropping everything to go help or comfort you at any given moment. He’ll even leave class if he needs to.

Not that he needs much excuse to skip PE class in particular.

Will procrastinate on paperwork and Mostro Lounge duties when he can to be with you, and send Jade, Floyd, or both to accompany you when he can’t. Don’t worry, they have your best interests in mind (most of the time).

Always has medication and snacks on hand in his office, and a spot permanently reserved for you in a quiet part of the Lounge for you to retreat to whenever you needed a break, free of charge! And he always told his waiters to gift you one free drink of your choice. He’s just benevolent like that, isn’t he?

However if you need to get away from the noise, the door to his office is always open. He’d be glad to have you stay with him for a little while.

He’s also very proud of the way you constantly seem to have a glass-half-full mindset in your life, even when things can be so rough for you. It’s quite admirable, really. He wished he was able to hold onto your positivity when he was younger during his own rough days of being teased by everyone else.

If it seems at all like you’re struggling during the day, he’ll gently thread his fingers through yours and whisper encouragements like “I think you’re doing wonderful today, darling” softly into your hair. And in the evenings, if you happen to be in Azul’s room, he likes to hold you in his arms, offering complete protection from the pains and worries of the world, and gives you an opportunity to relax or even fall asleep if you wish, in as safe a place as he can give you.

He’s never been so soft and open with anyone like this before. It’s new to him, all of it, but he’s willing to do absolutely anything for you, because he’s never, in all his life, found a pearl that shines as beautifully as you, and he’s not going to wanna let you slip through his fingers. He wants to treasure you as softly and as reverently as you deserve.

Floyd Leech

Aww man, does this mean he can’t squeeze his Shrimpy as hard as he wants?

It’s fine, he understands that it’ll hurt a bit too much for you, but it still makes him sad :(

Only gentle squeezes for this Shrimpy

HOWEVER given how tall and strong he is, he could totally pick you up and carry you with ease, and he doesn’t even need an excuse to do it (maybe for the teachers he needs one. But he can just say he’s taking you to the infirmary)

He’ll fight ANYONE who even tries to give you shit for not being as physically healthy as everyone else, and you better believe those guys are not walkin’ out of that fight without a couple missing teeth or some broken bones.

After he beats the shit out of those haters though, he just grabs you like there’s not a problem in the world and carries you bridal-style through the halls and away to… somewhere else. Maybe he’ll take you to the Mostro Lounge and get you some food! As long as you give him affection in return.

You tell him about anything you need him to get from Sam’s once, and he’s got that memorized for GOOD. Always knows what you need and want after that without you ever needing to repeat yourself.

Totally down to let you sleep in his bed every night if you wanted to, he loves cuddling with you at night, it’s comforting! And it helps him sleep more solidly. Down in the Coral Sea, as a general rule, if you were alone, you were unsafe, especially if you were sleeping alone. So it’s nice to be able to hold onto you and let him feel like he’s got someone with him. He’ll always be there to protect you as well, obviously!

He’s proud of you for staying positive on your rough days, but he’s there for you to fall back on if it just gets too tiring one day. But on the regular, he’s cheering you on and telling you how awesome you are for looking at the bright side all the time. Even when he’s in a bad mood, once he notices your optimism, it lightens a bit, because seeing you so bright and happy can’t help but make him feel a little better.

Jade Leech

He’s always very attentive to your needs. There’s never a moment when he’s unprepared for anything you might desire, it’s like he’s psychic.

Like, you’re wanting to leave PE class? Before you even open your mouth, Jade’s already on his way to Vargas to inform him that sadly you will be absent for the rest of the period due to unfortunate circumstances, and he will be accompanying you to the nurse’s office shortly.

In reality, you can go wherever you want to go and do whatever you want to do once Vargas is out of sight, because Jade gives exactly no shits as long as you’re happy.

Somehow he has pain and nausea meds on him like, all the time. You don’t even need to go anywhere to get any cuz guess what, your boy Jade’s gotchu.

May or may not have you experiment with some of his mushrooms to test their healing or pain-numbing abilities (don’t you worry, he would never drug you on purpose without permission, as curious as he is. He’ll save the hallucinogenic ones for messing with Floyd and Azul.)

He’s also very good at potions as well, so he may get a bit experimental with those as well, possibly adding in a few shrooms here and there. But it’s all for your benefit— he truly does want to help you and wants to get you some relief from the chronic pains.

He’s not exactly surprised you’re able to keep a smile on your face day to day— he knows thats just how you are. However that doesn’t mean he isn’t impressed at how you continue the positivity without showing a hint of wanting to break most days. He’s impressed by how it’s not entirely a façade, that you’re truly happy most of the time.

But when you’re at your lowest, when you’re in the most pain or unusually tired, he’s always there for you to fall into his arms and forget about the world for a little bit.

Kalim Al-Asim

He’s really really sad for you once he realizes that because of your illness, you can’t do anything that requires lots of moving around, like dancing as jubilantly as he can! He’d really love to dance with you, and he expresses as much with a sad, almost puppy-like face.

It sucks that you can’t really do particular things, but he’s determined to find something you CAN do that you’ll both enjoy, that doesn’t mean you have to experience any pain!

Would a carpet ride work? He wishes he could take you on a carpet ride. Hmmm.

Well, while he figures that out, he asks Jamil to maybe come up with a potion to take away some of your pain, so that he can teach you to dance!

But on most regular days, he’ll constantly tap on your arm and slip you little notes during class that say stuff like “hey r u doing ok? :)”

But it’s like. all the time. almost to the point of being annoying. He just wants to make sure that you’re doing okay enough to still be in class, and if you ever give the slightest indication it’s getting kind of bad, he’s dragging you by the arm and already on his way to the door, not even stopping before he’s saying “We’ll be right back, professor!” with a happy wave before he’s already gone with you in tow.

Makes you dizzy with how fast he’s speed-walking, and you actually have to tell him to slow down so it goes away. He didn’t mean to, though, but he’s endlessly apologizing anyway. He loves you a lot and would never do that on purpose! :(

He has Jamil whip up some Scalding Sands specialty dishes whenever it’s been a rough day for you, and makes sure it’s to your taste, whether you like spiciness or not. It’s supposed to be a comfort food after all!

Kalim’s always your number one cheerleader, and he wants to motivate you throughout the day to keep going, and is always happy to see you staying upbeat!

He’s always by your side, if that wasn’t clear. Always trying to be there to make you laugh or keep your mood up and to check in on you, and until you literally tell him to go away he’s not leaving you, he cares too much to want to leave you on your own… but if it’s solitude you need, of course he’ll respect that. He knows not to cross clear-set boundaries when it comes to you.

Jamil Viper

Not super clingy like some of the others, but he definitely gives you more attention and care than he normally would.

Cooks for you almost every day, whether its a simple lunch or an extravagant dinner he set up in his room for just the two of you. He puts a lot of thought into your taste preferences when he shares his food with you, and never forgets your reactions to anything, no matter how subtle your facial expressions are. He always remembers what you definitely seem to like, and knows how to tweak other dishes to make them even more delicious.

Despite his ever-busy schedule, he’ll make trips to Sam’s every day to get you any medication or painkillers you need. Sometimes he’ll even brew a potion for you to try and ease the pain.

If you’re tired or in pain during class and can’t focus, he’ll automatically share his notes with you and personally go over everything you might have missed later.

If you’re sleeping in his room (let’s face it, his bed is likely much more comfortable than the one in Ramshackle) he gathers all the pillows he can and makes it as comfortable as possible for you if you need support for your back or joints.

Keeps a stock of whatever you could possibly need right in his room. And if he doesn’t have it, he’s already off to get it for you.

He’s not really a very physically affectionate person, but he will massage you if you’re in pain, and rub your back or run his fingers along your scalp if you’re tired or even while you’re asleep.

It’s acts of service for him. Maybe he’s so used to serving the Asim family that it’s just become second nature, but part of him truly wants to serve you and do whatever it is you ask of him, and he wants to do things for you of his own accord as well. Just make sure to show him you love him back.

Vil Schoenheit

Always treats you like royalty. He personally goes to get you whatever you want, medicines, food, anything.

Has a night where he sits you down and just doesn’t let you move around or exert yourself, just lightly massages you with fragrant oils to release any tension you have in your body, and hopefully release some of your back and joint pain temporarily. Washes your hair with only the best stuff, gives you a facial, anything for you. Not to make you more beautiful (although its not like his treatment makes you uglier) but he does it to pamper you and show his affection through giving you attention like this, sharing his coveted beauty products and only focusing on you.

Lets you get as much beauty sleep as you need, yes, even if it’s during class. If you’re sleepy and your head starts to drop he will give a horrendous death glare to anyone who even looks like they want to disturb you. And yes, he’s usually incredibly strict about paying attention in class and excelling academically, but you’re a special case to him. He wants to spoil you.

Always is the one to volunteer to help you out of PE class (or any class) when you need to stop from exhaustion or pain. He’ll sit with you, far away from everyone else, and let you do what you want to do instead. You wanna take a break and eat? Sure. You wanna go back to the dorm for a bit and sleep? Of course. It’s whatever you want.

Vil doesn’t express the extent of his love for you through his words, rather his actions. He’d much rather show you how much he cares, instead of using words that hold no meaning without acts of love to prove it. It means more to him, and words are so limited anyway. So even if he’s not telling you every day outright that he loves you, just make sure you notice how he shows he loves you in everything he does.

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