emmyc0z

[emmyc0z]

heyy, love your writing sm 😙 can i request smth where in mingle, the number called is three but thanos and nam-gyu somehow get separated from reader and have someone else in the room with them and they’re slightly panicking bc they don’t know if reader is safe or not?

mingle !

pairing : thanos! x reader x namgyu!

cw : blood, drug use, talk of players dying

a/n : i probably write them so ooc but who cares. everyone lives through mingle, including gyeongsu and there’s no bad blood between minsu and semi after the game !

the two of them are obviously high, they’re fucking around dancing around you to the childish music. they’re attention isn’t fully on you for the very FIRST time since you joined their group. and you don’t know how the two of them are so uncaring about the amount of people that have died.

you’re on high alert, if a number like two is called you only have so much time to find someone else because you know namgyu and thanos will grab each other. (even if they feel bad about it later, but they are guys in the end and it’s a bros before hoes world)

if it’s four, five or even six you have semi, minsu, and gyeongsu. as long as your group stays together then everything will be fine. your hands shake despite the reassuring thought.

when the number three is called, relief floods your body and you know that you’re life is secure in the hands of the two men who swore to stay by your side whether you wanted them to or not.

but when you turn your head, they’re already running. their hands wrapped around the wrists of someone else.

and all you can do is stand there, staring at the sight, dread filling your body. frantically looking around, but feet stuck in place.

you think you’re life is already over but your wrist is suddenly pulled, feet moving on their own as you follow behind your saviour. when you reach the room you realize you’re with semi and minsu.

instantly you’re hugging them, thanking them, sobbing into the fabric of their jumpsuits because you genuinely thought your life was over.

and maybe the thought of the two men leaving you behind has you a little more than upset.

but it’s just like you thought, you’re group stayed together and everything worked out well. as long as thanos, namgyu and gyeongsu made it into a room themselves.

in a room a few doors down, the two men are beginning to experience a similar sense of dread realizing that the person they thought was you is actually gyeongsu. and of course they’re glad he’s alive, but where were you?

they’re at each others throats in an instant. the loud countdown outside of the room making them both nauseous as they point fingers and throw blame at eachother.

thanos rushes towards the peephole, frantically looking out as he calls your name. his emotions are so heightened, and he wants everything to feel like a big joke like it normally does, but his pulse is racing. he can’t see you anywhere.

and namgyu is shouting, pushing thanos away from the door in a frenzy as he looks out the same way. beads of sweat rolling down his temple as his eyes flick side to side.

you must have made it in a room right? you’re no where to be seen. but there is so many people desperately running around in search of an open room how can they be sure.

namgyu would chew on his already short nails as they return from the game. eyes scanning around.

thanos is twitching uncomfortably, rolling his shoulders to try and maintain his nonchalantness but his hands are shaking.

and as soon as you walk through that door, nervously chatting with semi, the two men are on you.

thanos is pulling you into an aggressive hug, moving back just far enough that he can still rest his hands on your arms, shaking you around.

namgyu would come up behind you, grabbing at your shoulders and squeezing them. to anyone else it might look like he’s trying to comfort you but you actually think it’s meantfor him, his fingers pressed into you through the fabric of your jumpsuit.

you just stare at them. hurt, confused, still processing how many people just died in front of you and how you were almost one of them.

namgyu would rest his chin on your shoulder, arms taking thanos spot on your arms from behind you as thanos steps back to explain what happened. and he’s so animated, head bouncing around hands flying.

“bro! i totally thought we were holding you, like you were right behind us i swear! and then we get to the room and we actually had gyeongsu! man, i was so pissed that we grabbed that idiot instead of you! no offence gyeongsu”

and from the side, right by your ear namgyu’s rattling out a similar excuse. hands rubbing up and down your arms now as he looks at thanos to confirm his story.

they must be coming down from a high because the two of them genuinely look and sound so guilty (in their own way) and scared (again, to the best of their ability while high) that it has YOU feeling guilty that you weren’t paying more attention.

so you’re accepting their apology, hugging them both and saying it’s okay because all three of you are alive, reassuring them that you’re all gonna get out of here with a shit ton of cash!

they’re both popping another pill when the mood has simmered, both denying and shaking off the fact that they we’re worried when semi pokes fun at the two of them.

we all know namgyu doesn’t like her to begin with, so she’s just fuelling the fire. he’s not acting on it yet though because you’re sitting beside him, alive, and he can’t think about anything else.

thanos is feeling a similar way. even if he was an easily perturbed man, which he isn’t usually (let’s not talking about how he interacts with player 333), he wouldn’t be paying any attention to semi. he’s engrossed in the sight that is you, hair stuck to your sweat dampened skin and face covered in splatters of blood.

[emmyc0z]

Hii! I love your Thanos x reader x namgyu stories!! They’re so good and I love your writing! I was wondering if I could request more of that? Maybe a little smut if you’re comfortable writing it!

(Sorry if that doesn’t make sense, English isn’t my first language ❤️)

thanos ! x reader x namgyu !

pairing : thanos! x reader x namgyu!

cw : drug use and sexual activities!

a/n : erm i am NOT a good smut writer but i hope the small amount is enough. i love these two. also i don’t know if anyone has noticed but i cannot make them mean for the life of me. like i love a soft man. oops

you’d all live in a single apartment because it’s cheaper. you were practically all living together anyways (they crashed in your living room more than their own places) so you would decide making one rent payment split three ways made more sense than three separate payments.

the chores would probably fall on you. cooking, cleaning, laundry. it’s easier if they’re out of your way anyways.

i think namgyu would help out by buying groceries or taking over the laundry every couple of weeks.

i like to picture him with glasses, and leaving them everywhere but his face. like he’s constantly misplacing them. and he swears you must be psychic or something because anytime he starts squinting to see, you pull his glasses out of thin air.

he also definitely is incapable of admitting he needs them. and will actively refuse to find them because he “looks stupid with them on”.

thanos is the type of guy that wouldn’t do anything around the house except leave his cigarettes ashes on the living room table.

or throw his shoes on top of the already large pile of sneakers by the door instead of tidying them up.

or add his dirty dishes into an already full sink.

and then he’d say he contributes to house work because he bought take out once last week or because he brought home shit for you guys to smoke.

but he’s also the type that can clean the whole house in a couple of hours, under the condition that’s he’s high. like i imagine him popping one of those pills from his cross and getting the energy to do everything you’d plan to do when you get home.

and if you said anything about it he’d just shrug. like it’s not the most impressive thing he’s done since he moved in.

secretly he’d be on top of the world because of your praise and gratitude. and he can’t help but smile at the satisfied smile that appears on your tired face when you sit beside him on the couch with no responsibility for the night.

they both are the type to conspire around the thermostat. and they’ve somehow convinced you that you don’t know how to use it so you trust them when they say it’s set at a normal temperature.

like in the winter time, they’ll turn it down so low that they have to bundle up under multiple blankets on the couch just so you’ll keep them close.

picture this, you’ve gone to bed and they turn it down at least half an hour after. and you return to the living room, half dressed cause “that’s the only way you can sleep”, and you beg them to come sit in your bed to keep you warm.

and thanos would be the type of guy to get you there and claim that they have a faster way than just ‘sitting in bed’ to keep you warm.

that’s how you’d end up with thanos chest pressed to your back and his cold hands up your shirt, cupping your breast as he nips and kisses at your neck leaving purple marks in his path that are sure to show the next day.

meanwhile namgyu is laying on his stomach with your legs perched up on his shoulders, fingers pressing into the flesh of your thigh, as he head gets busy between your legs.

and you better believe your inner thighs are covered in bruises. he’s incapable of holding back his bites and kisses with your legs spread wide in front of him.

i cannot see namgyu being anything BUT handsy. like even if you guys were just cuddling this guys hands are on you, in you, all over you it’s crazy.

and you’d say it’s counterintuitive when thanos throws your shirt across the room, and namgyu has pocketed the underwear you were wearing, because how is removing your clothes keeping you warm.

but after at least of an hour of being trapped between them, all three of you are sweating and the room seems way hotter than before.

maybe the fact that they turned the thermostat back to normal before joining you in your bedroom had something to do with it. who knows?

the type of guys to talk to eachother about you like your not there but also the type to say it’s gay to make eye contact with eachother when they get you off.

they’re also jealous creatures. they can’t help it.

if the three of you are having sex and you leave a mark on one of them, like a hickey or god forbid you leave lines from your nails, the other is suddenly whining for your attention. silently begging for you to mark them up in the same way.

and they won’t leave your bed after. they stay put, hands wrapping around you from either side of the bed. namgyu’s fingers are intertwined with yours as his face presses against your neck. and thanos is sprawled out on his stomach, one arm draped over your middle as he faces you, dead asleep.

[emmyc0z]

hi! Could you possibly write about nam gyu or thanos (or both idc) x reader and they try ac!d for the first time together and reader like is so mesmerized??? Also you write so good

ac!d trip

pairing : thanos! x reader x namgyu!

cw : drugs !

a/n : disclaimer i’ve never done ac!d, obviously, so this could be completely inaccurate oops!

*divider by @toastray

you’d all be sitting on the living room floor of your shared apartment. thanos leaned against the arm chair by the side of the coffee table, while you and namgyu sit side by side against the couch.

the tv would be on playing some show that all three of you are mindlessly watching, until the clearing of thanos throat would drag the attention of both you and namgyu to him.

and thanos would pull a bag, in which is what you think is just a piece of paper covered in little squares, of his jacket pocket with a grin and wiggly eyebrows saying something like, “look what i scored last night.”

obviously you’re hesitant because it’s not like you’re a heavy drug user, and on top of that thanos explains that it would also be his and namgyu’s first time trying it. he means for it to comfort you and settle your nerves but it only heightens them because what haven’t these two done honestly.

thanos and namgyu would both place one on their own tongues with little to no resistance. but you’d be hesitant to do the same.

“here, stick your tongue out.” namgyu’s soft voice would ring out from beside you, turning your head to where he has a tab sticking to his finger. his other hand moving to hold your chin steady. and you do as he commands, tongue sticking out with still present hesitancy. and in return he places the tab against your tongue, smiling down at you.

as the next hour passes you all get increasingly silent as the high takes effect. there’s music playing now, comfortably filling the silence, and you swear you can feel every vibration down in your veins. but it doesn’t feel scary like you thought, it just tickles.

namgyu’s head is in your lap, eyes closed and you can only stare at him. at his high cheekbones, at the slight flush in his skin. at the single piece of hair that sticks to his forehead. it would bother you more than him and you’d feel the compulsion to move it, goosebumps raising on his skin as your fingers brush against his face.

he would probably hold your hand over his chest, fingers tracing over your skin and sending tingles from your finger tips all the way up to your shoulder.

thanos just feels funny. like, not necessarily high, but he knows he wants to move. but his jealously is getting the best of him so he’d probably push his way onto your legs, both men’s heads sharing the space on your thighs.

this would be the only time namgyu’s eyes would open for the next 2 hours, irritated by the intrusion before finally getting comfortable again.

you can only imagine your pupils are blown, the same way that thanos are as they stare up at you. his purple hair looks so pretty, has it always been this bright of a colour? you thought it was due for a re-dye just yesterday. you can’t remember. it feels like your brain has taken a picture and turned the saturation up to 100%

thanos fingers would tap against his chest to the soft beat of the music, head continuously moving around despite the grumbles that leave namgyu’s lips. but you can feel the way his fingers are doing the same thing on your hand now, unintentionally following the beat.

it’s actually a miracle your not going into sensory overload with the way you can feel every tap, even the ones thanos is doing on his own body, and the way that the two unconsciously never stop moving around you.

the three of you would sit there for hours, unmoving, even when the playlist begins to play from the beginning again.

and they’d offer it again the next night, desperate to chase the high. or more like, desperate for an excuse to sit close to you for hours at a time, with being high as an added bonus.

[emmyc0z]

thanos! x reader x namgyu! headcannons

pairing : thanos! x reader x namgyu!

cw : blood, drugs

a/n : just something short to appease myself. what started off as a crush on thanos is quickly evolving more towards namgyu and i can’t stop it.

They find themselves interested in you because you so easily agree to stay in the games with them. You need the money and they’re offering you protection and extra food in return for your vote. What’s there to lose?

The two of them never let you out of your sight. You’ve gotta be by at least one of their sides at all times, or else they can’t sit still. They can’t focus because what if you’re hurt, or being harassed, or what if you were attacked and they weren’t there to stop it.

Even if they’re both high as a kite, they’re so focused on your safety that you have to gently remind them that they have to look out for themselves as well.

It’s the type of situation where a sleazy comment is thrown your way and their emotions are so heightened from the drugs that the words don’t even register to you before punches are being thrown at the culprit.

This ends up with them, most likely, bruised and bloodied (001 kicked their asses like cmon) but you shower them with your praise and thank you’s so they don’t really mind.

They’d even let you clean them up. Wiping the blood, whether it’s theirs or someone else’s is a mystery, away from their skin with your pretty fingers. Wincing as your fingers brush over a particularly sensitive bruise, but it pleases you to dote so they don’t complain.

Namgyu would probably feign annoyance as you brush his hair out of his face to get a closer look at the swelling of his reddened cheekbone. But his fingers would play with the fabric of your sweatpants at the side of your legs, tugging if you moved more than an inch away.

Thanos definitely is the type to push your hands away feeling like a kid whose mom is trying to wipe his face in front of his friends, cursing under his breath as you verbalize your concern. But he makes no real effort to move your body away from its standing position between his legs. Eventually he’d stop swatting, only staring up at you with a stubborn look and wide pupils.

If a fight broke out, whether it was in the bathroom or in the sleeping area, they’d crowd you. They’re never not by your side so you don’t have to be worried about being caught off guard. And while they want to fight, they’ve silently agreed to put this urge aside in order to keep you safe.

Namgyu would be so touchy with you. I mean we seen the way he acts in the show, right?

His hands are on you 24/7. Rubbing your shoulders, fingers threading through your hair, palms tapping on your arms. And hand interlinked with yours whenever the opportunity arises.

And while Thanos may not be clingy in a physical way he still finds a way to be defined as such.

He’s never further than a foot from you. Sitting directly beside you with his knee bumping against yours as he dances to a song no one else can hear, standing behind you close enough that you feel the movement of his hands as he speaks, his shoulder touching yours and fingers brushing against your hand hanging by your hip.

At night the two of them would sleep on the empty beds on either side of you. I mean, it would start that way at least. But it’s cold and they get lonely so the night ends with the three of you pressed closely together on a single bed.

Purple hair tickles your face as a cold, skinny-fingered hand slithers its way up your shirt. And another hand, Namgyu’s free one since he already has one playing with your hair, settles on your pelvis under the waistband of your green sweatpants. They swear they do it just because their hands are cold, and no other reason..

And while you’re happy they aren’t cold anymore, you now have to deal with the sweltering heat of their bodies pressed to yours and their humid breath dampening the skin on your neck. But it’s worth it to seem them calm and quiet as they sleep peacefully.

[emmyc0z]

Looking at the Stars

pairing : zack fair x gn!reader

summary : just something short about stargazing with zack after a long day of sparring.

cw: sparring with angeal, tiny mention of blood, zack being a cutie patootie.

You lift your sword up, one palm pushed against the flat side of your blade, the other wrapped around the handle. The sound of metal clanging against metal echoes through the room as your opponent's blade collides with the sharp edge of your sword. The sharp point just catches the tip of your nose enough to break skin. A drop of blood slides down along the curve of your philtrum, rolling onto your lip where your tongue flicks out to swipe it away.

Pushing back against the opposition's blade, you watch them step back with their sword pointed directly at you. You lick away the blood again, and watch now as they stow their blade on their back.

“What’re you doing? We’re not done sparring.”

“You're bleeding, I’d say we’ve done enough for today.” You huff, allowing Angeal to walk away from you. Your chest rises fast and unsteadily as you try and catch your breath, wiping away the sweat from above your brow with the back of your hand.

You follow after him, throwing your sword on the weapon rack as you walk out of the training dome. You're tired and tense but you lighten up once you're outside because your eyes immediately land on Zack Fair. Probably your best, or more honestly your only , friend.

Angels voice pulls you back before you can make your move for Zack, turning around to face your mentor.

“You did well today. Get some rest, you deserve it. You’ll be in the field with us Class One soldiers soon enough.” You thank Angeal for his words, giving him a small nod of gratitude as he walks away. And you feel almost guilty that you’re much more excited by Zack’s approach than by the praise of your senior officer.

“Dude, you’re so awesome! The way you blocked his hit like that, you’ve gotta be crazy strong! Lemme see your arms, no seriously lemme see ‘em.” His mouth is agape as he pulls on your arm which falls limp in his hold.

You shrug him off, pulling your arm away from him with a laugh, “Get off of me, you dork.”

“Have you been working out without me? Seriously. Are you doing push-ups when you’re supposed to be asleep?” He follows behind you as you walk towards your barracks, holding your arm up in his hands once again.

“It seriously was just luck, he must be off his game today or something. He still got me, so not too impressive.” You pull your arm out of Zack’s hold to wipe the cut on your nose.

“Not impressive? He told you had what it takes to be a first class soldier! Do you know what that means? Man, I am so jealous.” He stares at you, eyes full of awe. And you desperately will yourself not to look back at him because you will crumble and let out everything you’ve ever felt for him in one breath.

Finally you reach the door to your barrack, and you try to go in without a proper goodbye to Zack which he denies with his foot shoved between the door and its frame. “Hey, meet me up on the roof later?”

You open up the door so he can comfortably move his foot away but he doesn’t in case you try and close the door again. “I don’t know, Zack. I’m pretty tired.”

“Please? It’s supposed to be so clear tonight, you’ll be able to see like every star there ever was or will ever be.” You chew on your inner lip as his eyes plead with yours. Though your resolve is usually so strong, you're unable to resist, because you're painfully in love with him.

And also because who could say no to that face, so you agree to meet him after you’ve showered. You watch him pump his fist up in the air, whisper-yelling “yes” to no one but himself as he walks away from your door.

You clean yourself free of the layer of sweat covering your body, washing the grease off of your hair. You let the hot water hit your skin, standing in the middle of the shower and unintentionally wasting time before you have to meet Zack on the roof. Even when you're not exhausted from training, climbing the stairs up to the roof is a feat and you're definitely not looking forward to doing it tonight.

But you do. Lugging yourself up metal step after metal step, wet hair stuck to the back of your neck. You didn’t bother to dry it, too antsy to meet up with Zack.

When you push the heavy door open you see him already sitting there. Arms out behind him, palms pushed against the ground to hold himself up as his long legs sit splayed out in front of him. He notices you and lifts one arm to wave at you, a jovial smile on his face.

And you have to snap yourself back to reality once you realize you’re focusing too much on the way his muscles tense as he leans his weight on one arm to wave the other. You walk towards him with a gentle smile, cheeks pink already and you haven’t even sat down yet.

“Hey! I wasn’t sure if you were actually gonna come, considering you were so “tired.” He moves over for you to sit beside him even if he doesn’t have to, and you take the empty space graciously to sit crisscross beside him.

You roll your eyes at his sarcasm, “I am tired. I just prioritize you over my own health. You should feel very special”

“Yeah no kidding. Your hair's still wet,” He says while lifting a piece of your wet hair up with two of his fingers. “You’re totally gonna get sick.”

“Worth it.” You smile softly, shuffling the tiniest bit closer to him. He subconsciously wraps his arm around you, as if it’s second nature. But his hand hesitates to fully land on your arm, it just hovers above your skin. You lift your own hand, intertwining your fingers, resting your hands on your arm.

“Yeah, it might be the only way I can beat you in a sparring match. Speaking of, did I mention that you’re awesome?”

“Yes. You did, Zack” You giggle, turning your head to face him. His face is much closer to yours than you were expecting but he doesn’t seem to mind, smiling widely.

“Well, just one more time then. You’re awesome. Like, I think you're my hero.” He laughs, and you understand that he’s being unserious.

“Hardy har.” You two smile at eachother, faces close. Until you turn away, cheeks flushed as you look at the lights below the edge of the roof. And his giggly tone quiets.

“No, but seriously. I watch you train all the time. Like I seriously look up to you. I want to be able to spar with Angeal as easily as you do.”

“He goes easy on me, you know.”

“He goes easy on me too, I can still never win.” He pulls you backwards with him as he lays on the surface of the roof, arm pressed under your neck to let you lay comfortably.

“I didn’t win either. I don’t think you can win against him.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I do.” You don’t say anything else. You don’t think you need to, because Zack knows you feel the same way. It’s the reason why you watch him train, the same stupid look on your face that he has when he watches you.

Suddenly his voice rings out, giggly once more, “Hey, those stars kind of look like a chocobo!” You follow Zack’s hand, his finger pointed at a cluster of stars. You smile, eyes searching the sky for other images.

“Look,” you point now, at a group that makes an oddly familiar shape. “Those ones make the buster sword!”

“Woah they do! Man, I hope I get to fight with it one day, imagine how cool I’d look with it in my hands.” You elbow his side, and he turns his head to you in a fit of giggles.

“You were so right, Zack. It’s so clear tonight. I can see like every star! It’s so pretty..” You can feel his eyes on you, giddy smile on your face as you look up at the sky.

“Yeah.. it really is.”

[emmyc0z]

And super romantic self indulgent Zack encounters/1st time confessions?

Confessions with Zack Fair

pairing : zack fair x gn!reader

cw : none!

a/n : i wasn’t sure if you wanted a fic or headcanons so i hope this is okay !

zack would plot for weeks. like actual weeks.

and everybody knows his plan, except for you.

he has consulted every single one of his higher ups. and his close friend, cloud strife, who basically gave him nothing in the way of advice.

he would leave subtle signs and think they’re so obvious. and by subtle, i mean subtle.

as in, he would open the door for you and expect you to know that he wants you. even though he did that before anyways. and then he’d be anxious about it for the rest of the day.

or he’d flash you a smile while he was training with angeal and he’d get so distracted when you smile back and give a little wave that angeal instantly knocks him on his ass. and then he’s embarrassed.

the type of guy to not change anything to make you notice his feelings, and act like you’re so oblivious because you don’t notice. when in actuality he really is just not good at showing it.

and he talks to cloud every night about all the “hints” he has given you, and even if cloud isn’t really listening he still rolls his eyes at how stupid his friend is being.

by this point you definitely know, because cloud is getting tired of listening to zack’s rants when he is trying to sleep, and he would tell you so you can get zack to shut up.

then finally, after thinking real hard one night and getting no sleep. he decides on a plan.

he would leave you a tiny note (as in he would make cloud give it to you) telling you to meet him on the mountain clearing behind your guys houses.

and when you’d get there, he’d obviously already be there. because he’s been there for an hour mulling over how he should tell you that he has feelings for you.

you’d have to gently tap him on the shoulder, because he doesn’t even realize your there.

and he also doesn’t realize that, because he’s been rehearsing out loud, you’ve already heard his confession.

he’d hold a flower in his shaky hand, your favourite, something you had mentioned months ago when a flower cart had come through gongaga.

you’d accept if graciously, giddy smile on your face that he can’t help but mirror as he fumbles over his words.

“i asked you here today because- well- you know .. i have feelings for you. like, romantic ones?”

and he’d scratch the back of his head awkwardly, because despite his constant rehearsing he hadn’t quite got it out the way he wanted to.

but he instantly forgets his disappointment when you tell him the feelings are mutual.

he’d wrap you in a tight hug, and despite the fact that you two hug all the time, this one feels far from platonic. your own arms wrapping around his neck, lips planting a soft kiss on his cheek.

and he makes a mental note to tell cloud about his epic success later. (excluding the part where he didn’t get any sleep because he was so anxious about it, and the fact that he probably looked like an idiot standing in front of you stuttering over his words)

zack exhaustion would probably come crashing down all at once as he stood in your arms, and he’d have to propose your first date be right now. and somewhere comfy.

“hey, wanna go back to yours and watch a movie? i’m totally spent.” he would laugh, like he’s joking (because it’s not even midday yet) and just wants to hang out, but he’s being so serious.

and you’ve already been friends for so long that it’s not even awkward when he instantly passes out on your shoulder as soon as you guys touchdown on the couch.

[emmyc0z]

A zack fair cannon with fluff and kisses and gentle interaction for an SO who's got anxiety over an appointment or just overthinks stuff MAJORLY

Zack Fair with Anxious S/O

pairing: zack fair x reader!

cw! : none!

he knew you were anxious by nature and when you told him about your upcoming appointment he took it upon himself to make you forget about that the fact that you were dreading it.

the week before he had showered you in love and gifts. which he usually did anyways but he was laying it on thick now.

he had taken time off so he could take you on date after date. and he made sure you thought of nothing but him.

he felt good when the night before you had yet to mention the appointment and you fell asleep without much trouble.

the morning of he was able to breath easy knowing you weren’t anxious, getting out of bed and brushing your teeth without a word about it.

but then you move into the kitchen and take a look at the calendar and suddenly your all over the place.

your fully dressed. you were ready for the day. and you were almost out the door.

but now you sit on the leather ottoman in front of your door, unable to put your shoes on. and all he can do is chew on the inside of his lip as he looks between you and the clock.

and he knows that his own anxiety about being on time is only making things worse for you, proven by the fact that your breathing becomes faster.

he’d approach quickly, kneeling down in front of you and grabbing your hands in his own, bigger ones. callouses rubbing against your smooth skin.

“baby, baby, it’s okay, it’ll be okay, yeah?” and you nod but nothing changes. “it’s just a checkup.”

and you’d reply, “but what if something is wrong with me and i don’t even know it? what if the doctor tells me that i have some incurable disease? or that they missed something last checkup and i actually only have 4 weeks to live? or that i can’t ever have kids!”

your breathing would become more panicked, and your hands would be idly playing with zack’s finger.

he pulls his hands from yours, lifting them up to your face, “my love, you are going to be fine. i will be right beside you the whole time. and even if you had 4 weeks to live, they would be the best 4 weeks of your life.”

and you open your mouth again, suddenly more anxious then before but he puts a finger over your lips. then moves his hands back to cup your face so you can’t look away from him.

“but the doctor is not going to say that because you’re perfectly healthy, same as always. and if he did say you could never have kids, which he won’t. we will find another way. everything would be okay. everything will be okay.”

your breathing steadies as you copy his calm demeanour. and he smiles a little bigger when a small smile appears on your face.

“now how about we put on your shoes and we go to your appointment. And then after we can go get ice cream, yeah?”

you nod, and tie your sneakers which miraculously appeared on your feet and you have a feeling the man in front of you is to blame.

he’d pull you up to your feet, spinning you around and holding your hand out the door.

“and i’ll hold your hand the whole time, kay? ya big baby.”

and he’d only laugh as you punch his shoulder with minimal effort.

[emmyc0z]

I read your work for Sephiroth and was wondering if you could write another one!

Impressive Woman

pairing : sephiroth x female!reader

summary : he told you not to be so shy but when you try he's nowhere to be found. what if you train to pass the time? surely there is no way to embarrass yourself again.

c/w : reader uses a sword, mention of blood

a/n : urghh i do NOT feel good about this one. i hope this one lives up to the first part

part 1

The weeks that followed the incident in the hallway were anti-climatic.  

Immediately following your encounter with Sephiroth you returned to Zack, abandoning your fabricated meeting with Angeal. He was standing, in the same place you had left him, chewing on his nails. Once he noticed you, practically floating, back towards him his hands fell away from his face. 

“Oh my god, I thought you were a goner. Man, he walked back this way and he- jesus it was scary you should be glad you missed it- he was all like,” he furrows his brows and scrunches his face up, recreating Sephiroth’s ‘scary’ expression. You assume it was probably more frightening in real time than now, considering Zack’s face only makes you giggle. “It’s not funny, seriously! I thought I was never gonna see you again. I was ready for you to come out of there sobbing, and then I would have to show him-.”

“Show him what, Zack? You can’t even show the spider living in the corner of your bunk who’s boss. What exactly did you plan on doing to your taller, stronger, and definitely handsomer superior soldier.”

“Um, ‘handsomer’ is not a word. Also, that was completely unnecessary. I was really worried about you, and you come back completely unscathed and then start complimenting your hypothetical heartbreaker. Hey, speaking of, why aren’t you heartbroken and sobbing by the way.”

“Your faith in me is truly touching Zack,” you let out a half-scoff-half-laugh and roll your eyes. “I’ll have you know that things went.. better than expected actually. And I’m telling you, things are looking up for me.”

But they weren't. If anything, things were steadily declining as the days passed. You had barely even seen the impassive man, let alone had a chance to speak to him and fulfill his request to “not be so shy”. Just your luck that during the most important week of your romantic life, the main component would be missing. Sephiroth had been sent away on a mission concerning first-class soldiers only. Strictly first-class soldier business, strictly confidential, strictly unable to share any details. At least that was what Angeal had told you when you asked when he’d be back.

So, you sat, sulking and staring at an empty training simulator, sitting in the same spot you had watched him train not even a week ago. Your lips part with a soft sigh, chin resting on your fists. 

“You know he’s coming back right?” Zack’s voice breaks you from your sullen trance, mirroring your surprised jump when your head whips in his direction. 

“Christ Zack, don’t sneak up like that!”

“Why don’t you do something productive and try out the training simulator? Rather than, y’know, just staring at it and thinking about sweaty Sephiroth.”

Your eyebrows scrunch up, unimpressed, “Um- I was not thinking about that. And the fact that you thought of that at all is concerning.”

“Hey! Don’t turn this back on me. Gross..” His voice is shrill as he defends himself, exaggerating a disgusted shiver with his body. He laughs softly, eyes spotting a soft smile on your face that puts him at ease. “Anyway, you should do some training. It might take your mind off things. Think about it, kay?” Zack rests his hand on your shoulder, giving you a goofy smile before he waves himself off. 

Of course, he was right. And it was the perfect time to train because nobody was around for you to embarrass yourself in front of. Cough cough, Sephiroth. 

You pull yourself up from the plastic bench and approach the training simulator. You push your hair out of your face, roll your sleeves up, and grab one of the midsized training swords. The dome lights up blue, the artificial training dummies loading up before you. Gently, you rest the back of the blade against your forehead, breathing in and grounding yourself. 

You focus on the cool metal against your clammy skin, tying your thoughts into this moment. Training during the day is usually hard for you. If anyone asks, you blame it on not wanting to fail in front of a crowded room. Which is true. But in reality, it’s just demeaning. 

Shinra is a male-dominated place and a female soldier is hard to come by. It’s not like it’s uncommon for you to hear inappropriate comments or be offered help you don't need.

Usually something like, “You should lift your arm higher when you swing your blade,” “Position your feet closer together,” “Adjust your grip,” and “Why don't I give you a private lesson on technique?” It’s like they forget that you're a soldier too. They forget that you took the same training and got to the same place as them. 

The blade in your hands glides swiftly through the air, fracturing the training dummy into a jumble of artificial cubes on the ground. A hair falls loosely in the middle of your forehead and you pay it no mind save for a quick puff of air to move it out of your eyes. 

You’re not supposed to, but you can't help picturing the male soldiers who often approach you to offer their unwelcome suggestions. You should be picturing Wutai, picturing a real fight, but it is so satisfying to imagine the stunned look on a man's face as he gets cut down. Another dummy crumbles into a pile of digital squares. And another. And another. You plow through them, more concentrated than you’ve probably ever been. Skin glowing with a thin coat of sweat.

Standing in the middle of the dome, you realize that the training dummies have all fallen. But suddenly something heavy rests on your shoulder, gripping it. A reflex test maybe. But you don’t remember loading that in.

You swing your sword around expecting another artificial being but your blade misses, flying through the air unexpectedly and causing you to stumble. It moves out of the way. It’s a real person. You swung at a real person. The blade clatters against the floor, slipping from your hands as you turn to face the person who intruded on your training. 

“Well, that's not exactly the greeting I was expecting. I thought you'd be happier to see me.” He's seriously teasing you even though you almost cut him in half.

“Seph- Oh my god, I’m so sorry! I didn’t- I would never- Why would you come in here? I could’ve seriously hurt you! Jesus, I didn’t even hear you come in..” You look him over erratically, your voice trailing off as your eyes zero in on a tear in the fabric on his arm.

With otherworldly speed, your hands find his arm to observe where your blade made contact. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice his other arm rise and begin to move towards you at your approach and then slowly fall back to his side, barely noticeable hesitance. “I cut you..” 

He looks down at his arm with you, hooking one finger in the torn fabric and ripping it further to get a better view, “Yes. I suppose you did.” 

You wrap your hand around his forearm pulling him behind you quickly, and to any onlooker's surprise, he follows with no resistance, allowing you to drag him to the nearest first aid room. You practically push him to lean against the table inside, searching with unsteady hands for something to clean and wrap the wound. 

Sephiroth curiously stares at you. Observes you. Did you seriously think that this was worth all this stress? It was a tiny wound, just bigger than a paper cut. if the paper was made of medal but- He had just been off on a mission, facing much worse than this, and yet you were acting like it was the worst wound you had ever seen.

He realizes, upon your return with arms full of medical supplies, that he hasn’t seen your eyes this whole time because you won't look away from this cut. 

You roll his sleeve up with gentle hands, ignoring the way his fingers begin to brush against the underside of your arm. Gently, you wipe away the blood that oozes from his arm, hands shaky while pushing the gauze down to soak up the red liquid. When you know that the bleeding has stopped oozing out, you wrap his arm in a thin layer of gauze. You suddenly feel embarrassed by the attention you’ve given him, knowing now that it won't even need stitches.

Two weeks ago you wouldn’t have even dared to look in his direction if there was potential for him to catch you. Now you have confessed your feelings to him in the middle of an empty hallway, let him kiss you in the same empty hallway, and then almost cut his arm off. All in the span of a week. Okay, maybe you weren't even close to cutting his arm off but still.

“I’m sorry, I probably didn’t need to drag you away for this.” You finally look up to his face. He smiles down at you, maybe it would feel condescending to anyone else but to you it's almost endearing. 

“You're probably right. But I appreciate your concern anyway,” he lifts his hand to your face to push a stray piece of hair from your forehead. “You’re all sweaty.”

“Sorry..”

“Don’t apologize,” Sephiroth’s eyes never look away from your face. You can still feel his eyes on you when you look away from him. “You’re a good fighter. How come I’ve never seen you train before?”

“How long were you watching?” Your embarrassment grows and your face must show it because Sephiroth lets out a small laugh. 

“I apologize. I must admit, I was watching from the moment you started. I expected to find you when I got back, Angeal hadtold me you were quite troubled by my absence. But you were in the training simulator. So I took the opportunity to watch, almost like someone else I know.” He moves his head to find your gaze, which you hide from him by looking to the side. You can hear his smirk before you see it, and you know he's referring to you admiring him in the simulator on multiple occasions.

“You are far more impressive than me when you train. I can’t imagine you saw anything impressive.” You cross your arms over your chest but his hands reach up to break your defense, pulling both your hands into his own. 

“You shouldn’t speak that way. You are a very impressive woman, you fight well. Half of these soldiers would be more than lucky to learn from you, don't forget that.” Even while leaning against the table he towers above you.

Your stomach explodes with tingles as his praise registers. Pride fills you. You had always admired Sephiroth as a soldier. Even before you developed your childish crush on him.

One of his hands leaves yours, finger brushing against the high point of your cheekbone. “Did you know you have a cut here?” All you do is shake your head. 

He maneuvers the two of you to switch positions. You jump up to sit on the table, expecting to be closer to his height to no avail. Sephiroth gently moves your hair out of his way, pushing it behind your shoulders; his fingers brushing against your neck sends a shiver through your body.

He grabs a small cotton ball from the pile of supplies you had dropped on the table before and pours a small amount of antiseptic on it. Gently, he places it on the cut you didn’t even know you had and wipes away the blood that has dried along its edges. “You probably did this when you first swung your sword, do you always hold your blade so close to your face?” 

You bite the inside of your cheek, remembering that you were embarrassed just a moment ago, “It’s just something I do when I train, my dad used to say something about being one with the blade when I was a kid." You give him exactly 2 seconds to respond before you fall back on yourself, "I know that probably sounds stupid..”

“You’re very hard on yourself. I don’t like hearing you speak that way. You are so much more than you know,” he says it so casually like it’s the simplest thought he’s ever had.

He looks between you, your cheek, and the supplies on the table. Usually, you might be glad to have a break from his intense gaze but now every time he looks away you're filled with disappointment. His fingers are gentle as he places a bandaid across your cheek, a soft smirk on his lips. You can only imagine it’s something embarrassing but you can't bring yourself to care. 

“There. Now we're even.” He doesn't try to distance himself, hand brushing against your cheek.

“I- Can we train together? I mean- would you train me?” He raises an eyebrow at you, flicking the used cotton ball and the bandaid’s packaging into the nearby garbage can.

“I won't train you.” Your hopeful expression fades, mouth parted like a silent ‘Oh’.

“Ah ah,” he lifts your chin with his pointer finger before it can fall any further, “I won't train you. But we can train together. I’m not a teacher, and anything you have to learn you won't learn it from any simple pointers I have to offer. It’s the experience you need. I will give you that. But we'll do it together, yeah?” You can’t help but flush at the underlying flirtation in his words. "How's that sound, hm?" Once you realize he's expecting some sort of acknowledgment, you nod.

Sephiroth’s finger leaves your chin, palm coming up to pat your cheek. If it was anybody else it would feel demeaning but it only makes you crack a smile. “You come and find me whenever you like, and you can show me a thing or two about ‘being one with the blade’.” He smirks, teasing you as he walks out of the medical room leaving you to sit in your flustered thoughts.

“So I imagine you found Sephiroth?” When you don’t respond, Zack waves his hand in front of your face.

“Hm?” 

“God, I have to get you out of here. He’s melting your brain with his evil soldier powers. Look at you,” his hand dramatically clasps the fabric of his tank top with one hand and touches his forehead with the back of the other. “I’m losing my best friend to his necromancy. He has hypnotized you with his love magic.” He gasps, “Oh god, what if he’s some sort of ancient being sent here to prevent you from ever having a decent conversation with me again.”

“Zack.”

“Yeah?”

“This has to be in your top ten most dramatic outbursts, I didn’t think you could get any worse. Why didn’t you become an actor? You seriously missed your calling.”

“Now that you mention it, I have been thinking about getting into acting,” he puts his hand up to his chin in fake thought, laughing when you push him and he loses his balance. 

Suddenly he pokes his finger into your face, touching your cheekbone, “Hey, by the way, what’s up with the kiddy moogle bandage?”

[emmyc0z]

"We're gonna get out of here, I promise"

pairing : mike munroe x (fem) reader

cw : mike has a gun, talk of death, and blood, and maybe like one swear I don't know. reader is referred to as mike’s girlfriend, but other than that i don’t believe any female pronouns are used.

a/n : i know this is kind of late since the until dawn remake has been out for a while but i kept procrastinating this after I started it. anyways #needthat.

The wind pulls at you from every angle, hair clinging to your sweaty, frostbitten cheeks. Adrenaline kept your body moving through the never-ending maze of trees and snow; you didn’t think it would last much longer. You were sure if you continued in this direction, eventually, you would reach the sanatorium. 

It was marked on the map in the cable car station, the same map you had seen before you made your way up to the lodge with Sam and Chris. That was hours ago, and you wish you could go back and warn yourself to go back down the mountain. Or even better, ignore Josh’s email altogether and stay home. Play sick. You’d say anything not to be where you are, right now. 

But that’s not possible, is it? 

Your clothes are sticky with blood. Not your own, you think. You hope. This night was not turning out the way you had expected it to. And the choices you had made leading up to this point were beginning to make your stomach turn the longer you thought about them. 

Why did you leave the lodge? You could’ve stayed on the kitchen floor after that psycho knocked you out; you could’ve pretended not to hear Chris’s attempts to wake you up. You could’ve looked for a phone instead of rushing into the snow to find Ashley. Speaking of them, why had you left Chris and Ashley? You could’ve returned to the lodge with them to find Sam after witnessing your friend be sawed in half, but no. You needed to know that Mike was okay considering you hadn’t seen him since you both arrived. 

Why did you start that argument with Mike before the two of you had left for the lodge? 

“C’mon, don’t be like that.”

“Like what?”

“You're getting jealous over nothing. We’ve talked about this, there is nothing between me and Em. I’m with you. I’m in love with you. Why does this keep being brought up?”

“Maybe because she texts your phone like you're still close? ‘Text when you and the new gf get here, can’t wait to see you, winky face’,” you push his phone towards him. “She knows who I am, why does she feel the need to refer to me as the ‘new girlfriend’ as if we’ve never met? And why is she sending you winky faces? Why exactly is Em so excited to see you, Mike?” You make a point of emphasizing her nickname which seems to flow off his tongue so easily. 

“You’re looking into this way too much. This is crazy, I mean come on, that’s how she texts everyone, baby.” He gently takes his phone from you, throwing it onto the bed and reaching back for your hand which hovers in the air. You let him, but you make no effort to hold his hand back, fingers only resting in his hold. A soft sigh leaves your lips. 

“Yeah well, I’m not loving that she texts you that way and I’m also not loving the fact that you’ve said nothing to her about how weird it is. You have no problem defending her when you talk to me, so why can’t you say something to her about how I feel?”

“If I said something it would just cause a fight between me and her, or you and her, and the last thing that anyone needs up there, especially Josh, is for all of us to be fighting. Can you pretend to like her, only for the weekend, and then you never have to again.”

“You say that every time she’s involved, ‘just pretend to like her for tonight, and then you never have to ever again.’ But I will, because for some reason she is always around. I figured when Matt and she started dating we would see her less but I guess I was wrong.”

“Please, let’s just go and get it over with. We’re doing this for Josh, remember?”

“I don’t know, Michael, something about spending an entire weekend with your ex-girlfriend isn’t really appealing to me anymore. Call me crazy.” His eyebrows soften as you use his full name, especially in that tone. He is enjoying this conversation less than you are. 

“Don’t be this way, we’re already packed and ready to go. Just come downstairs and get in the truck. She won’t bother us, baby, I promise. Come on..” He attempts to pull you, gently bringing your hand closer to him. But your fingers slip from his hand, dropping to your side. From the bed, his phone buzzes, the screen lights up, and you don’t have to look to know who’s messaging him. 

“Sam told me she's taking the bus up there, I think,” you look back to him, “I’ll just head up with her so she doesn't have to go alone.”

“But then I have to go alone. And the bus leaves in like an hour, that's barely enough time to get ready and get to the stop. You're being ridiculous, just come with me. And if you want to, we can talk about this on the way up.” 

 You look away from him, missing the way his face falls as you turn your back to him. “I’ll see you up there, Mike.”

If you had just let it go, believed him, and gone with him instead of taking the bus with Sam, you would’ve never been angry with each other at the lodge. Or rather, you wouldn’t have been so furious with him because you would’ve talked things out in the truck, kissed, and made up instead of stewing in your thoughts on the bus. You wouldn’t be worrying about whether or not he was alive right now. But you were stubborn and foolish, and now you are trudging through the snow, improperly dressed, and praying the person you love is still breathing on this stupid mountain. 

You cross your arms over your chest, preserving what little warmth you have left, and with every step you lose another piece of hope. All you can think of is him. And how, if he is dead, he would’ve died thinking that you were mad at him. You weren’t even angry, annoyed for sure but not angry, you were just being stubborn and taking your frustration out on him. Now you might never get to apologize. The thought makes your stomach churn and your steps falter as a wave of nausea overtakes you. 

But, finally, in the distance you see the outline of a large building surrounded by a brick fence that appears to be falling apart. You allow yourself to be comforted, just for a moment, by the sanatorium's existence. The nausea in your stomach ceases as your steps quicken, arms uncrossing to move through the air. You reach the gate, blocked by the large pile of snow blocking both sides, not that you think you could’ve pushed it open in your current state; blocked from snow or not. 

You let your hand trace across the gate's bars as you walk towards the side of the fence. The pads of your fingers sting from the cold metal but you keep them where they are. As you move, they follow, moving from metal to brick. The only way into the sanatorium courtyard, you realize, is to climb over the stone fencing. 

A tired sigh leaves your body. You place your hands on the wall, palms stinging from the snow-covered surface. You lift your body, throwing your leg over simultaneously, climbing on top to straddle the snowy stone. The action uses more energy than you realistically have left so instead of gracefully landing on the other side of the wall you fall, directly onto your back. At least the pile of snow beneath you cushions your fall a tiny bit, but it still takes you a few minutes to recover your breath. 

Using the wall, you find your footing again. The snow falls from your clothes as you stumble towards the sanatorium. You don’t even know what you were expecting to discover here. You figured there might be people here. Maybe a construction crew, getting ready to tear the old building down. A custodian, forced to stay and take care of an abandoned building. Or on the slimmer side of chance, a large group of stable nurses and doctors that would offer you and your friends shelter and much-needed medical attention. However, the closer you get, the more you realize how fucked you are. Nobody is out here. And it was stupid to believe there would be. 

But you’ve come this far, and the chill that runs through your body borders on hypothermic potential. You reach the front doors, using your body to push the door open, shoulder first. It opens far easier than expected, and you fall to your hands and knees as it flies inwards. “Fuck.. me.” 

You don’t move from the floor, the opposite actually, you get closer to it, falling onto your back. You don’t even want to get up. No one is here. All your friends are probably dead back down by the lodge. What’s the point? At least this way you’ll have time to think over every choice that led you here, it’ll take a while for the cold to kill you since your feet are the only part of you still lying outside the building. From farther within the entry hall you hear a door open, the sound of steps echoing through the empty building. And though your heart rate picks up speed, you don’t move. Instead, you pray that whatever it is, will kill you quickly so you can be with your friends again. So you can be with Mike. 

“Who’s there? Whoever it is, just know I am armed and I am not afraid to shoot you. I have had one hell of a night and I am so not in the mood for.. whatever it is that you want.” Even with your heartbeat drumming against your ear canals, you still pick up the voice. A man's voice. Almost recognizable. You let your eyes close, murmuring the only thing you can think of like a mantra. Mike. Mike. Mike. Mike. 

“Holy shit. Y/n?” Mike? You turn your neck enough to see the man approaching. A sudden second surge of energy fills you, and you lift yourself into a sitting position to fully face the figure walking towards you. 

“M..mike?” 

“Holy- Oh my god, how are you- Are you okay?” He falls to his knees in front of you, dropping the gun and the lantern in his hands on the floor. His hands hover around you, scared to touch you. You notice that two of the fingers on his left hand are missing, replaced by a bandage soaked in blood.  Your hands are the first to make contact, landing on both sides of his dirty face.

“Are you real?” He nods, pulling you into a too-tight embrace. A stark contrast to his previous concern and reluctance to touch you. 

“Yes. Yes, I’m real. I’m so glad to see you. You’re alive.. holy shit I can’t believe you’re alive.”

“You look terrible” You wipe away some dirt from his face. Eyes wide as you try to convince yourself that he is actually in front of you. You had convinced yourself that he was dead, and now to see him in front of you alive and well - okay maybe not well but he’s not dead - it has your brain moving a mile a minute. There is so much you have to say. So much you have to explain to him. How do you explain to someone that his friend was sawed in half on the anniversary of his sister's death? Or how do you explain that the rest of his friends might ALSO be dead? And without sounding insane, how do you explain that you truly believe something is up on the mountain with you and that it might’ve followed you the entire way to the sanatorium? You can’t.  

“Well, I’m happy to see you too, baby.” He laughs breathily, unsteady. A laugh of disbelief. His way of coping has always been humor, even at the most inappropriate of times. Your features are probably the exact opposite of his uncertain smile. You pull him close again, practically pushing him to the ground, but his arms wrap around you and he straightens his back to keep the two of you upright. “Woah, I’m not going anywhere. I’m right here.”

You push your face into his shoulder, saturating the filthy, green jacket that he wears with tears. It stinks like cigar smoke, years of sweat buildup, and dirt. 

“Mike- Oh Mike,” your voice is muffled in his skin, pausing in between sobs to catch your breath. His arm wraps tighter around your waist, the other arm reaching up so his hand can rest in your tangled hair. “I’m so- I am so so sorry Micheal. I thought you were dead, I thought- I thought you died thinking I was angry. I’m so sorry, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. It’s okay. Don’t apologize. I’m just- I’m so glad you’re alive.” He kisses your temple, and as you raise your red face to look him in the eyes, he moves your hair out of your face. “We’re gonna get out of here, okay? Can you walk? God, you must be freezing. Did you come all the way from the lodge like this? Fuck, y/n, how are you even alive.” You shake your head, a silent confirmation that you don’t know how you’re alive either. 

He helps you to your feet, taking off the unfamiliar jacket and helping you into it. He then retrieves the lantern and the gun from the floor, “Here, can you hold this up?” You nod, and take the lantern from his hand. In the hand opposite of you, he holds the gun, and with the other, he intertwines his fingers with yours. “We're gonna get out of here. I am going to get you out of here, I promise.” He’s so certain, and your fear almost dissipates completely as he leads you farther into the sanatorium with a tight grip on your hand.

[emmyc0z]

Can u write some headcanons about vincent valentine? I love him sm and I love your write! Ty ♡

Vincent Valentine Headcanons

pairing : vincent valentine x reader

cw : none!

a/n : i’m not super familiar with vincent, his personality or his mannerisms so i hope these are okay!

he’s a sleepy guy.

like bro can sleep anywhere.

he’s one of those people who can sleep sitting up, laying down, with loud music playing, while people are literally talking to him.

for some reason he always seems attentive when you’re around though.

vincent’s quiet. so quiet that you honestly think he might not like you.

for a little at least.

he almost never talks about himself.

he probably gives short responses to anything you have to say.

and if he does have lots to say it unintentionally kills the mood cause he’s so brooding. like straight out of a dramatic play.

but then you realize he’s more of a listener than a talker. thankfully.

he’s heavy on the eye contact, it’s a little intimidating.

he almost never looks away while your talking, even going so far as to follow your eyes when you look away.

like bro has his head on a swivel to find your eyes when you start acting all shy in front of him.

and he can’t wrap his head around why this is making ur shyness worse.

vincent won’t directly tell you if he has feelings for you but you’ll definitely know.

he will actively search you out in a crowd full of people.

and you will be able to find him by your side more often than not.

he just wants to be close. even if your not chatting.

honestly he probably just can’t handle the idea of you being out of sight.

vincent definitely treats you like you’re made of glass even if he knows you can handle yourself.

can you blame him? he doesn’t want to lose another lover.

he definitely doesn’t get any of your jokes, but he won’t tell you.

he just nods, but you can tell he’s smiling cause of the crinkles in the corner of his eyes.

if you don’t know how, then vincent would teach you how to use his guns.

picture like straight out of a movie, he’s standing right behind you talking right in your ear with his deep voice and his hands guiding yours.

and he again doesn’t understand why you get so flustered by this.

but if you did know how to use a gun, colour him impressed.

[emmyc0z]

Ruin My Reputation

pairing : cooper howard (the ghoul) x (fem) reader

summary : he’s soft for you

warnings : blood, drug use kinda, talk of shooting

a/n : just something short and sweet so the fallout brainrot subsides.

“You know damn well I hate when you show up like this.” You let your medical supplies clatter onto the table where the ghoul sits, waiting like a hurt dog. Eyes awfully resemblant of the animal.

It’s likely that the only reason he’s here, looking this run down, is cause he’s got no vials left. If you knew better, you’d hide yours. Or better yet, get rid of them all together.

“Now c’mon darlin’,” he pauses to sputter out a cough and take a deep breath, “I thought you loved seeing me.” Shakily, he grabs his hat off his head and places it on the table.

“I love you a whole lot more when I don’t have to worry about you showing up at my doorstep on the brink of death you old..” Your words trail off and whatever insult you were ready to throw at him is taken away by the stream of air you let slip past your lips.

“I told you to quit your worryin’, I ain’t gonna die on ‘ya.”

“Oh yeah? And what do you suppose it is you’re doing right now?”

“Well if you’d quit your yappin’ and get to fixin’ I’d be doing a whole lot better, wouldn’t I?” He offers an unwelcome smile, which disappears when he winces in his pain. You hand him a vial of his favorite yellow liquid before you get to unbuttoning his shirt. After downing the vial he opens his mouth again but you're quick to cast your eyes his way.

“Looks like I didn’t need your medical attention after all, huh? ‘S a damn shame.”

“Mhm, waste of my time. Well then, I’ll cut right to it, thought I told ‘ya not to come around anymore after the last time.” Your voice trails off as you disappear to the back room to grab him a shirt that isn’t littered with holes and dirt and a shit ton of blood. Most of which probably isn't even his. And he follows behind, limping, like he’s in a trance and can’t help himself.

You hear a grunt from the other room as you rummage through a small storage box of his discarded things. Anything he left over the months he had been making himself a frequent quest in your home was in this box. You wanted to burn it. All of it. Use those little bottles of yellow liquid as a fire starter and make him watch while you did it. But anytime you tried, you couldn’t actually bring yourself to part with the tiny symbols of his presence.

“We both know you didn’t mean that,” he appears in the doorway behind you, blocking your exit, “besides I always come to my girl for help when things get rough. She's got all the good chems.”

You throw the shirt into his arms, a bit harder than intended, but he catches it with the reflexes of a man who kills for a living. Because, well, he does. You’re not sure why but every comment is making you angrier about him being there. A chem stash, huh? That’s all he thought of you?

“I wish you wouldn’t. I ain’t got time to sit around and tend to you, wait for you to get all better and leave again.”

The shirt now hangs on his body loosely, buttons open, “Now what’s got you so sour tonight. Usually you're a lot kinder to little ol’ me.” He leans against the doorframe

“Maybe the fact that I’ve got a half dead cowboy making himself comfy in my home every two weeks doesn’t sit well with me. You ever think about that before you kick your dirty boots off on my carpet?” You pause to stare at him with a raised eyebrow, “Oh, which reminds me, you owe me a new carpet.”

“What’re you talking about, woman?”

“You got blood on my carpet.”

“It was already covered in blood and dirt anyway!”

“Well, you got more on it. I liked how it was. So now you owe me a new one.”

“Are you hearing yourself? Where would you like me to go for said carpet? Anything I find you is gonna look exactly the same as the one already sitting on your goddamn floor!” He moves in slowly, cautiously like he’s practiced the art a million times. “Now I know you’re not worried about that piece of fabric out there. What is the problem?”

He swoops in close, close enough to wrap his arms around your waist with his hands clasped together at the dip in your back. You don’t push him away, though you want to. Although, all you think about is how your gun is sitting merely 5 inches away on the end table beside you. You could shoot him, if you wanted. But you probably won't.

Cooper’s eyes find your avoidant ones, the rough pads of his fingers grabbing at your chin to make you look at him. He’d never raise his full hand to you, smart man. God knows you’d think he was moving in to slap you, and his hand would be gone before he could yell ‘yeehaw’.

“You know damn well that I worry about you Coop.” Your arm finds his forearm, tugging his hand away from your face, “I just want you to stay for once, so I won't have to worry about you dying in the middle of the wasteland somewhere.” His hands find the dip in your back again, running along your skin until they rest on your hips.

“Hey now, you know I can’t stay, I got business to take care of out there.”

“Yeah, it’s always business. Always. Well you know what, so do I. So go on and get ‘fore I shoot yer sorry ass.” You step away from him, pushing him out of your way but his hands are quick to find your hips again and pull you back to him. Works like magnets.

“Now you're just being dramatic.. Alright alright, if you ask me nicely I’ll stay for a little longer than usual.”

You stare at him, eyebrows flexed in annoyance but the rest of your face has seemingly cooled down. You don’t need to say anything, he’s already agreed. He looks down at you with a soft smirk, thumbs rubbing into your hip bones.

“You are the easiest woman to please in the whole wasteland.” You feel your eyebrows relax as one of his hands reaches up to cup your cheek in his rough palm. His lips part, gazing at you with deep adoration.

“Think you’re making me go soft darlin’, gonna ruin my damn reputation.”

[emmyc0z]

Can you write something for Sephiroth(pre-nibelheim) or Astarion? Your work is absolutely fantastic btw I’m in love with it ❤️❤️❤️

Not So Subtle

pairing : sephiroth x female!reader

summary : you have a teenage girl level crush on him, that you and zack talk (very loudly) about when you think no one can hear. but he does.

a/n : this takes place pre-nibelheim so everyone is happy and well! in honour of ff7 rebirth :)

“Close your mouth or you’ll catch flies.” You snap your jaw shut, eyes moving to glare at the young, dark haired boy who has decided to break your daydream. 

“It wasn’t even open.” He plops down beside you, shoulder touching yours. 

“Mhm.. and you weren’t drooling over our superior.” 

“Your superior,” you correct, eyebrow lifted with pointed sarcasm. If you could stick your tongue out at him, without it seeming childish to everyone around you, you would.

“Last time I checked, you weren’t a first class soldier either,” He points out, amused. Your elbow makes contact with his arm, and his hand reaches to cover the area as he laughs.

Zack was younger than you, though he certainly never acted like there was an age gap. In his mind, you were the same age as him in some way or another. You had always trained together so you felt much closer in age even though you were at least 3 years older than him. At times, he felt like a younger brother to you.

Even more so when he found out you had a crush on the man he spent everyday training beside. Constant teasing, constant threats to spill your secrets, constant blackmail. You couldn’t even count the amount of times he had used your crush to his advantage on one hand. 

There was a time you had to put your foot down and tell him no more, cause it was wrong of course. But also mostly cause you were running out of money to buy his silence.

“Yeah but I'm older, closer to his age. So I don't have to talk to him like I'm below him, unlike some people.” 

“Can you even talk to him?” 

“Yes.” 

“Then why are you sitting here staring..?” 

“He’s training..” 

“Mhm.” The look on his face tells you he’s not convinced. Right now, it was the truth, Sephiroth was swinging his sword in the domed combat simulator, glass walls clear enough for you to see through. So the excuse of not being able to talk to him, out of fear of being sliced in half by his giant sword, was plausible. 

But any other time that you had sat staring at him, making no effort to speak to him, rendered that excuse inapplicable. 

“Shut it..” You push his shoulder with your elbow once more, and he snorts out a laugh. 

“I don’t get why you can’t just talk to him..” 

“Of course you don’t.. because you're obviously blind. Or you’ve been hit in the head one too many times in combat training.” You turn your gaze away from Zack to look back through the glass enclosing Sephiroth. 

His hair is tied up, hanging loosely against his back. It’s a rare sight, so you indulge yourself and stare a second longer than you should. It’s so relaxed, you think, compared to the seriousness of always having it pristinely down. There are stray hairs, flyaways, falling from the hair tie and hanging against his face. It’s unkempt, a nice contrast to his seemingly perfect lifestyle.

He swings his sword with calculated grace, a grace that you (or Zack for that matter) had yet to achieve. The control he held over his blade was impeccable, it never slipped or moved from his hold even when his hands were moving faster than his body could keep up with. Just another thing that had to be perfect in his life.

“How could I ever speak to him and not make a fool out of myself? For one, he’s first class, I'd totally ruin my chances of making first class if I said something totally outrageous. And knowing me, my mind would be so jumbled, I wouldn't even realize the words had left my mouth before he put me on some kind of ‘do not promote’ list.” 

“Oh so.. the only reason you won’t talk to him is because you're worried about making first class? Not.. I don’t know, maybe, the 12-year-old-girl-level crush you have on him.” Your hand slaps over his lips, eyes scanning around you. For the most part, no one looks at the two of you, and you figure the ones that are looking are doing so because of your hand covering Zacks blabbermouth. 

“Would you shut it?” Even with your hand covering his mouth, he manages to laugh at your widened eyes. The crinkles at the corners of his eyes are a dead giveaway of his amusement. You remove your hand with a pointed look, one that says ‘keep it down’ in a far more subtle way than a hand over his face. 

“You’re so lucky you’re younger than me.” 

“More like so lucky you don’t want to make your boyfriend angry. Besides, you know I’m stronger than you.” 

“Mhm..” You roll your eyes, and with a sigh, you turn back to face Sephiroth. He stands still now and you realize all of the practice dummies have been broken. From your position, he doesn't even seem to have broken a sweat, even though he’s been in there for over an hour. His sword lies on the ground, thrown without care. 

Even with Zack beside you, and the silent teasing that exudes from his body, your eyes remain trained on Sephiroth. You realize it’s childish, to stare and never approach, but the idea of even standing next to him is enough to intimidate you. 

He runs his hand over his back, pulling the hair tie from his hair, allowing it to fall against his shoulders once more. He turns, presumably to leave the combat simulated, and his eyes meet yours through the glass. You knew your staring wasn’t subtle, it had never been before, but you had never expected to get caught. You had never been caught. 

You turn your head away so fast that Zack almost flinches, probably thinking you were going to hit him again. 

“Jesus,” he looks at you with confusion, “What’s the problem?” 

“He saw me.” 

“What?” 

“He saw me! Through the glass! He totally caught me staring at him..” You stare at Zack with wide eyes and flushed cheeks, before you head falls into your lap in shame.

“Would you relax? I guarantee he doesn’t care or he didn’t even see you. Maybe he was just looking at his reflection.”

You look back towards Sephiroth to see him leaving through the doors of the dome, and then you turn back to Zack with a pitiful whine. 

“This is so pathetic…” 

“I agree,” he smiles when you shoot him a glare, “Just talk to him.” 

“Talk to who?” A deep voice sounds from beside you, higher up than where you sit. You feel the hairs on the back of your neck stick up, and Zack's expression is enough to confirm your suspicion about who stands next to you. 

You turn your head to face Sephiroth, and he stares at you expectantly. You think you catch the slightest smirk building on the corner of his lips, but you also think you might just be trying to make yourself feel better. Standing, nowhere close to his height, you hold your hands up. Zack takes this as his sign to stand too. 

“Nobody! Angeal!” You fumble out words, trying to throw out a name before he grows suspicious. 

“Well which is it, nobody? or Angeal?” 

“Angeal. Yeah! Angeal, so.. um.. I should probably go find him.” 

“It just so happens that I have to find Angeal too, allow me to join you.” 

You want to throw the nearest chair at Zack, curse him for speaking so loudly. And you curse yourself for not thinking of an excuse in a reasonable time frame, so you just nod, and excuse yourself from Zack. 

He gives you a pitiful smile, and when you turn to look behind you for support one last time as you walk away he gives you a thumbs up. His face contradicts his hands, and he seems like he’s in a far less teasing mood. 

“Whatever you have to say to him, it must be important.” 

“Hm?” You tilt your head up and to the side to look at Sephiroth, you’ve been walking together for a few minutes now, mostly silently. 

“You're walking fast.” You shrug your shoulders and continue walking. 

At least until your steps are interrupted by him stepping in front of you. 

“Is there a problem?”

“What? Of course not!” He practically glares down at you, arms crossed over his muscular chest. You can see the outline of his defined chest muscles through the straps of his top. And you realize you're practically drooling over him, right in front of him so you force your eyes to meet his once more. But his glare is replaced by a smirk, and amusement in his eyes. 

“I see now..” 

“See what?” 

“Really? Do you think you’re subtle?” Your face flushes and once again you want the floor to open up and consume you whole, but you're stuck here. 

“I don’t know what you're talking about.” Step back, you scream at yourself, but he moves closer and it’s impossible to move your feet. They feel like lead underneath you, not even giving way to a small shuffle backwards.

“No?” His hand reaches up to rest on your cheek, it's gentle, far gentler than you would’ve expected. But the way his fingers tense against your skin has you feeling fuzzy, “You think I don’t notice the way you stare? Hm?” 

He stares at you, thumb moving to the other side of your chin, holding your face in his hand. He maneuvers your face, moving it however he likes. You realize he’s examining the flush in your cheeks, the way your lips part like you want to say something. His tongue gives a humiliating click when your lips close, and the words are lost. 

“I hear you, when you talk to Zack,” he stops his movement, stilling your face to look directly at him, “You’ve never been a quiet girl. Why are you so quiet now?” 

When you don’t respond his eyebrows scrunch, its subtle and almost missable because it’s gone in seconds. He’s not satisfied by your silence.

Sephiroth bends his shoulders, moving closer to your face, “Although, I suppose you’ve never been very talkative around me.” He moves closer still, swerving his nose to the side of your face until he’s able to speak in your ear, “That’s not very nice. You might hurt my feelings if you keep ignoring me.” 

“I’m sorry,” you mumble out meekly, you're honestly not even sure it’s audible at first but he laughs quietly, breath fanning on your ear. His other hand, the one that doesn’t hold your face, reaches up to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear before he pulls away. The breath that leaves your body is almost embarrassing. 

“What’re you sorry for, hm?” He stares expectantly down at you, eyes never leaving yours. 

“F…for ignoring you.”

“So you ignore me?” 

“No!”

“So you’re lying?” You shake your head as much as you can within the hold of his fingers, “Then what are you sorry for?” 

“For not talking to you.” 

“And why don’t you talk to me, I'm sure you know it’s rude to stare and never speak to someone.”

“Because..” His grip loosens, hand moving back to your cheek, thumb resting on your cheek bone. 

“Because why? Cmon use your voice, the one you use to talk about me with Zack.” 

You stare up at him pitifully, and the way words fumble from your mouth has you wanting to throw up, “Because I have this stupid crush on you, and I can't talk to you without getting nervous. I know it’s stupid and I should have told you sooner so you could reject me and I could move on and I never meant to offend you or-”

You hadn’t realized he had gotten so close until his nose touches yours, top lip brushing against yours as he tips your chin up towards him. Your words fall flat on your tongue when you meet his eyes, or rather when you see his eyes that are focused on your lips. 

“Offend me.. that’s sweet..” He’s so close to you, that every word has his lips brushing against your own again and again. 

“Sephiroth..?” You suppress the urge to move the tiniest bit forward so your lips can fully meet his. And you're sure your face is impossibly red. 

“You should’ve told me about this ‘stupid’ crush sooner, such a foolish girl. May I?” You're confused, what is he asking for? His eyes flicker up to yours before moving back to your lips. When you realize what he means you nod your head perhaps too eagerly. 

Slowly, to tease, his lips press against yours, palm pressing into the skin of yours to keep you in place. Eyes fluttering closed, your hands find his chest, silently screaming about the position you’ve found yourself in.

His lips overpower yours in every regard, moving languidly against you. His other hand reaches up to the free side of your face, fingers tickling the skin on your neck and thumb resting on your jaw. 

When he pulls away you can only look at him with half lidded eyes, dazed. 

Al he does is chuckle, rubbing your cheek with his thumb and patting your head. One hand holds the back of your head, leaning down to kiss your temple, before stepping behind you, “Don’t be so shy from now on. Maybe we’ll end up here again.”

His steps echo through the empty hall as he walks away.

“Wait… wait.. I thought you had to go see Angeal?” You turn, taking one step in his direction, then stopping yourself in your tracks hesitantly. 

“I didn’t. And I know you didn’t either.” He only turns his cheek towards you to speak and then continues on down the hallway, tall and brooding.

[emmyc0z]

I'm the anon who sent the last request for Zack's headcanon and I'm all 💖💞💓💗 I loved it sooo much <3 I could ask for another headcanon from him with a s/o who is a little scared of sleeping alone and loves it to be hugged in his arms all night? I hope it's not inconvenient asking one hc again I just love him so much ♡

Zack Fair with S/O Who’s Scared to Sleep Alone

pairing : zack fair x gn!reader

cw : none!

zack’s a busy guy.

he leaves early in the morning before you wake up and he’s usually home late in the night after you’ve gone to bed.

and you hate it.

you wake up to a cold bed, and you have to go to sleep with no one around.

being in the house by yourself all day is bad enough but as soon as the sun goes down it feels less boring and more scary.

every shadow seems bigger, like some big man has come creeping around the corner.

the floorboards seem to creek so much louder, like someone is sneaking through the house.

and the bed is always freezing.

it doesn’t help that the window faces your bed directly, you stare expecting someone to walk past or peer in.

you can’t sleep.

the first time, zack comes home, not bothering to check on you because he assumes you’re asleep.

i mean it’s midnight, you should be sleeping.

he showers, and crawls into bed, wrapping a heavy arm around you, as if it’s instinct, to pull you closer to him.

but you stir and he realizes you’re awake, turning to face him.

“baby.. why are you awake? i told you not to wait up.”

he’d stroke your head, finding your eyes even in the dark of your bedroom. and you mutter ‘couldn’t sleep’ in response.

“why not?”

honestly you’re not sure. yes you had been nervous earlier in the night but your bed was comfy enough and the house was safe.

so you just shrug.

“s’okay. i’m here now, so we can get some shut eye, yeah?”

he pulls you in close, and you feel your eyes becoming heavy, face buried in his muscular chest.

but you’re reeling in embarrassment, so sleep fails to come, even more so when zack’s snores fill your ears.

the second time, zack’s routine is the same.

you listen, pleading with yourself to fall asleep before he gets into bed.

god forbid you have to admit that you’re afraid in your home.

zack would go crazy installing security measures into you finally felt safe, but it wouldn’t help.

when zack enters the room he can already tell that your awake, you’re restless, he knows you well enough to know your habits.

he crawls into bed, clinging to your back side, arm lazily thrown over your side.

his cold hand reaches under your shirt to get closer to your skin, fingers tightening on your waist, “hi baby.”

both the cold and his voice makes you go rigid, flustered and embarrassed.

“why’re you awake hun?” his voice is soft, tired, and so close to your ear.

you can only shrug once more.

“you know what time it is?”

“no..”

“it’s late. too late for you to be awake, my love.” he kisses at your neck, making you squirm in his grip.

“let’s get some sleep baby.. we’re gonna talk about this in the morning, okay?”

you don’t. he’s gone in the morning. and you understand his busy schedule, but your still upset knowing tonight will be the same.

the day is the same as always, you’re nervous to be alone but you tidy up, and follow your schedule.

but when the sun goes down your nervousness grows, and your retreat to the bedroom to hide in the bed.

you turn the tv on, hoping it will help to have background noise. but it only makes you anxiety grow knowing you can’t hear anything else.

you miss zack. and you’re so tired.

but you can’t sleep.

so you lay in your bed, staring up at the ceiling, heartbeat quick in your chest.

at some point, your sleep deprived frustration causes tears to roll down your cheeks.

it only serves to embarrass you more, even though no one is home to witness the scene.

the third time, zack is home earlier.

it has you sitting up in the your shared bed instantly, scared that it might not be your beloved boyfriend entering your home.

he’s too early.

but then his head is peaking through the door, and then his body follows as he approaches.

you can tell he’s tired but there’s a sweet smile on his face.

“i figured you would be awake,” he speaks quietly, grabbing your hand and sitting on the edge of the bed.

“why are you awake,” your about to raise your shoulders but he cuts up off, “and don’t shrug, use your voice.”

“can’t sleep.”

“i know you can’t, baby.. why?” he squeezes your fingers, other hand landing gently on your knee.

you hesitate. you’re embarrassed. this is so childish.

“i.. i’m scared.”

his eyes would widen, concern and guilt fighting a war inside of his body. he should’ve been home more. had something happened?

“scared of what? what happened?”

“nothing.. i just.. i don’t know, the house seems so much scarier when you’re not home. can’t sleep without you.”

he calms. his blood stills. and his head levels out.

you’re safe. and the probelm is a fixable one.

“awh baby.. why didn’t you just say so?”

“cuz.. you work so hard for us I didn’t wanna wreck your schedule.”

he rids himself of his SOLDIER uniform, pulling you into the bed with him.

“i can always change my schedule. don’t worry about it.”

his fingers thread your hair, placing kisses across your face.

you breath him in. he hasn’t showered, but he doesn’t stink. he smells like home.

“can i make you breakfast tomorrow?”

“you’re gonna be home?”

“all day, my love.”

[emmyc0z]

Can i ask for some headcanons about Zack from final fantasy kissing the face of a s/o who is crying and comforting them? I hope it doesn't seem weird, I just thought it would be cute ♡ thank you for reading and I love sm your hcs its perfect!

Zack Fair with Crying S/O

pairing : zack fair x gn!reader

cw: none! zack is a cutie patootie and he deserves pure fluff.

it genuinely would probably take zack a hot moment to notice your crying at all.

i mean he comes home, all sweaty after a gruesome training session, muttering a soft, “hey baby,” and placing the gentlest kiss on the top of your hair, hand resting on the back of your head.

but he’s focused on hitting the shower.

so focused that when you try and wrap your arms around him for comfort, he’s pushing you away from him, “ah, baby y’don’t wanna touch me right now. i’m all sweaty and gross.”

he thinks nothing of it, it's not the first time he's rejected your touch to prevent you from smelling him after training. he's saving you from it, he thinks.

so he continues on to the bathroom, bag of equipment thrown loosely on his shoulder.

that is, until, he hears soft sniffles coming from behind him, making his shoulders droop.

zack has tuned himself to understand your emotions. a simple sniff could mean you were getting sick, or that it was simply dusty in the house and he would need to clean soon.

but multiple, in a row, followed by hiccuped breaths. not good.

suddenly he's regretting not accepting you hug.

he turns in an instant, dropping anything he holds to rush over to your side, sitting the two of you down on the couch, face to face.

“what happened baby?” “hey, hey, look at me, my love.” and while he means to comfort you, his words have your cracking and you breakdown in front of.

zack would take your cheeks into his hands, making you face him. his brows furrow when he sees the tears slipping from your beautiful eyes, running down past your lips.

though at first you refuse to speak, his thumb’s gentle caress of your cheekbone coaxes the reasoning out of you.

even while tired after a long day, he listens to what you say, following every word. gaze never faltering, hands on your face never dropping.

“awh, my baby doesn’t deserve that..”

“poor baby.” his thumb wipes a tear that falls from your lashline line.

he places the softest kiss to your cheek, then another in the same spot.

he notices an instant change, it seems to soften your breathing. and your sniffling subsides. you’ve calmed.

“that helping, love?” yeah it is. he knows.

so he places another. and another. and one more.

his lips covered the stray tears on your cheeks, kissing them away.

zack moves your face, giving him the perfect angle to any spot he wishes to kiss.

he covers your jaw, cheeks, forehead, in soft kisses.

at first it feels sporadic, like he’s calculating where his lips will land.

but in an instant he find a steady rhythm, planting kisses wherever his lips land on your face rather then picking a specific spot.

it has your face heating up, and your heartbeat leveling to a steady beat.

you push him away, with gentle hands, almost whining between giggles, “zackk stoppp.”

but he knows that really means, ‘keep kissing me please.’

when he notices a smile on your face, placing another kiss on your nose, he feels that his methods have worked.

“feeling better? yeah?”

zack looks at you with tired eyes, always on you, always giving his full attention. he would never dare to leave you feeling worse than before.

he places a final kiss on your lips, lingering, purely a selfish act now that he sees you have calmed down.

“come shower with me baby, that always helps me calm down.” and he grabs your hand, pulling you slowly from the couch.

[emmyc0z]

A Noble Woman

pairing : noble!astarion x (fem)reader

summary : you have always dreamed of being a noble, he wishes to fulfill this dream.. albeit it through force and bribery.

warnings : alcohol, drugging, emetophobia.

As a young girl, running free through the streets of Baldur's Gate, your parents filled you with the rules to survive. Be wary of strangers, be compliant when faced with the law, stay out of trouble. But most importantly, being surrounded by lords and dukes all residing in their towers and palaces, you were taught respect. That is, to keep your head down as you passed their residencies, taught not to let your real thoughts about the nobility slip out from behind clenched teeth. They were important and you were to treat them that way. 

You were born modest. Your parents were never struggling but you certainly weren’t living lavishly. There was never quite enough money left for anything fun at the end of the month. No money for you to frolic around in fancy dresses. But still you grew to be spoiled. You were enraptured by the importance of nobility, how could status make someone so scary that no one would even mutter a word of insult behind their backs? You didn’t know. But you craved to know. You craved to feel important. To sit in your giant palace and stare over the people of Baldur's Gate, to be loved by the masses, for the people to be scared of you 

In the beginning, they indulged you, believing that this obsession with lavish living would pass. But as you grew older, your parents became fearful that your attitude of self-importance was not so much a childhood phase but rather a permanent mindset. Your respect for them, or more honestly everyone, was dwindling. 

You became rather conceited. In a way that benefited you. Your parents were dull, and were no longer putting up with your tiresome behavior, so you became fairly independent. It was your own way of preparing yourself for nobility, you saw it as making up for the laziness you would lose yourself in after taking a seat on a throne. 

Years passed and you grew into yourself, you would no longer lower your head when passing by large castles and palaces but would instead stare longingly. Hoping to catch a glimpse of any sign of life, any sign that this life was achievable. On occasion you would approach the gates, letting your hands rest on the iron bars keeping you out. The smell of metal often lingered on your finger tips. 

You would no longer talk quietly when discussing the nobles, in fact you would often raise your voice and talk as if you were untouchable. A bad habit that could easily get you killed, but you paid no mind. 

In all your years of fascination, you realized, you had never truly seen any of the nobles that interested you. You only knew of their names. Only read about them in the tabloids, which most spoke of misinformation and rumors. Easily dismissed rumors, but they entertained you nonetheless. 

The lord that interested you the most, the one who’s palace you longed to take for yourself, was a man’s. The thought of a man sitting on a throne that would one day belong to you was the root of your annoyance, always. “No man is deserving of such things”, you would speak to your friends freely whilst they hushed you and peered around anxiously, in fear of Cazador Szarr. You assured them time and time again that nothing was going to happen to you. 

“One of these days, someone is going to hear you and report back to him. He will come for you, and what will you do then?”

“Please. The lords are no threat, let him come. Besides, I’ve never even seen him leave that place.” You let out an amused chuckle as your friend's eyebrows furrow, “I hear rumors, that Cazador is a vampire.”

“Lower your voice.. if he was, shouldn’t that make you more afraid?”

“Afraid of a bat in a man's body?” The idea has you laughing. 

“I wish you’d be more careful, especially with your words.” 

“No one ever got anywhere being careful.” You roll your eyes, suddenly bored of the conversation. The hairs on the back of your neck are standing at attention, the feeling of someone's eyes on you is swimming through you. But when you look around to find the eyes, you are left with nothing and the feeling disappears. You think nothing of it, the feeling slips from your insatiable mind and you're already thinking of something else. 

That night, when your friends say their goodbyes, their speech is wobbly and mushed together. Or maybe, it’s not so much that they are speaking strangely, but rather that you have had far too much to drink and your head began spinning near hours ago. You were never a heavy drinker, and you were entirely uncertain how you managed to become so woozy from a few drinks.

You have not moved from your seat, you are scared that if you stand you will make a fool of yourself and stumble around until eventually you hit the floor. How will you become a noble woman if you are known as the nearest drunkard? 

So instead you stay seated, and you scan your surroundings, drunkenly of course. You search for anyone, or anything, that might ground you and help you to sober up enough to leave the bar. You swear your eyes are almost crossed from how blurry your vision has become, it is entirely too hard to focus on the people around you. But, your eyes find a resting place when they reach the bar and you realize that you are not the only one who has analyzed the bar. 

A man stands behind the counter. Brown hair. Fair skin. He’s tall, but not skinny tall, rather muscular, broad shouldered tall. His appearance alone has your stomach stirring with lust. 

Lust?

No. That couldn't be right. You never lusted after men. You would never allow yourself to lust after a man, noble or not. The only thing you felt lust for was power, wealth, and status. Not some average, stupidly attractive, barman. 

You glance down at your empty cup and the thought stirs in you that you had not ordered the last few drinks, nor had you gotten up to get them yourself. Were you seriously so engrossed in unnecessary gossip that you had drunk from the cup of a stranger?

Your head spins. The time feels so uncertain in your head, whether you have been staring at your cup for minutes or hours you are unsure. But your stomach is beginning to churn, not from lust, from fear. For the first time in your life you are willing to be dependent on someone, but everyone who you trust has left. A hand lands on the table in front of you, causing your eyes to avert from your cup up to the face of the barman. 

He speaks, but you hear no words. Your thoughts are loud. A look of hunger is overwhelming your features, you can show nothing else for that is all you feel. He wears a grin on his handsome, chiseled face. He asks a question, you think, and you find yourself naively nodding along to whatever he says. You hope that he has asked to take you home, undress you slowly, and bed you until you no longer wish to leave. 

And for a second, when he takes your hand in his much larger one, you almost think your hopes are reality. Your fingers play with his arms, his shirt, his hair. Your hands have run themselves over every part of his torso before you even made it out of the bar. He leads you behind the building, and the pool of lust in your stomach gravitates between your legs. You had never made love in public before. 

But suddenly your world is whirled around, quite literally, as he heaves you over his broad shoulders and begins walking. Your head is even heavier from this angle. You do your best to protest, but your arms only weakly make contact with his lower back. You try, you really try, to keep conscious. But eventually the darkness of the night is indistinguishable from the darkness of your closed eyelids, and you crash into heavy slumber. 

When you wake you are met with the coldness of cobblestone cellar flooring pressing against your face. The gravely texture scratches at your skin as you stir. It takes a minute for you to sit up, hands supporting your woozy body as you take in your surroundings. It’s dark, and cold. The only light is a torch mounted on the wall outside of your cell. 

Your cell. 

You realize all too suddenly that you are trapped between cobblestones walls and iron bars. The lit hall on the other side is taunting you, though it doesn't look very free either. Panic settles in your stomach, and you feel your exciting night of drinks retreating from your stomach. The contents of your stomach decorate your cell floor now, spit falls to your chin which you wipe away with the back of your previously manicured hand. Steps echo as they approach.

“Ah.. good morning, pet. It seems we need to get you cleaned up, yes?”

Your eyes take a moment to focus on the figure standing in front of the bars. It's a man. Tall and thin. His figure alone would have you assuming he stood the same as your family. Modest. He did not fit the stereotype of fat and overfed. But the fabrics decorating his body, the fanciest and finest you ever seen this closely, had you sure he was a wealthy man.

You move your thoughts along to meet his face.

His hair white and curly, curling around his ears. An elf, you assume by the size of his ears. The light is reflecting off his pale skin from beside him. His face is pointed, and he looks down at you with an amused smirk.

It has you blood boiling when you remember the position you're currently seated in. You stand on wobbly knees, approaching the bars with unprecedented speed.

He merely steps back when your hands reach through the space between. 

“Let. me. out of here!” You lunge for him again, but it only earns you a sore shoulder. 

‘“Atatat..” He clicks his tongue at you, mocking you with his eyes, “Not very ladylike are you.. for a girl who wishes to rule.” He watches intently as your face contorts through fear, and anger and finally rides out into the stillness of someone who has practiced her poker face for years. 

You breathe heavily, trying to keep a steady rhythm of air through your nose, “Who are you?” You know it’s not working by the way his gaze remains transfixed on you, amused, like you are here for his own personal entertainment. He knows you're scared, he can see right through you. 

He doesn't reply, merely smiles. He points his finger to the crest decorating the arm of his tunic, the Szarr family crest. You fail to notice the splatters of blood that have been stained within the expensive fabric.

“Cazador.. I’m in the Szarr palace...” He seems to scowl at your voice, scoffing, as if he offended. Of what you are not immediately sure.

“No dear. My name’s Astarion,” He says it with flair, like you should be impressed by his title, “I’m afraid the Szarr palace is under new rule, I had to replace him because.. oh how did you put it.. no man is deserving of such things.” 

Your brow furrows at this, “You too are a man, are you not?” You take a step away from the bars, arms crossed defensively. In the back of your mind you want to scream and spit and gnaw at these bars until your teeth fall out but, while still thinking through the dizziness of being drugged, it is better if you remain stoic. Perhaps he will grow bored and let you return home. 

“I am no man.” He smiles, swiping his teeth across his teeth. Stopping at a particularly sharp tooth. It’s a fang. He closes his mouth but it doesn’t close the gate of thoughts that flood your brain in an instance. This man is not Cazador. But he is a vampire as the rumors claimed. You are going to die in the darkness of a clammy cellar, like a dirty mouse that has been trapped by a much bigger cat.

Your heart pounds, and with the way his eyes light up it almost feels like he hears it. 

“Don’t worry little mouse,” Your brows furrow once more, “I’m not going to eat you.. yet.”

“My family will come for me.” When the words leave your lips they are true and you are sure of it, but by the way his smirk seems to widen to an entertained smile your trust in the statement falters. 

“I wouldn’t be so sure. Would you like to see what your parents are doing right now? I can take you to them, if you promise not to run.” 

Staring into his eyes, approaching the bars once more, you search for any sign of deceit but you find none, so you nod with a heavy swallow. When his bony fingers reach to unlock the door, opening it for you to step out, you truly contemplate running. But when running through the odds in your head, they are not in your favor. You tried to remind yourself he was taking you to your parents as he wrapped his cold hand around your upper arm tightly, leading you like an animal in front of him. 

“Promise you'll be a good girl.” You sneer at him, pain flashing across your eyes as his fingers dig into your skin.

Begrudgingly, you nod your head, letting out a soft breath when his grip loosens. You can feel your pulse throbbing where his fingers have most likely left bruised circles. 

The pathway out of the palace cellar consists of dark, stone staircases, and a couple times you almost trip. It is during those times, and only those times, that you are thankful to have his grip holding you so tight. When you reach the top you expect light to flood your eyes, and you almost hope he will burst into flames from the sun, but no such light reaches your eyes. It is hidden behind curtains that have all been drawn closed, it spills out from the sides and it makes your heart drop to think you may never see it again. 

He leads you down a hallway where debris lines the floors. The carpets, all red, have all been stained with an even deeper red that has your stomach swirling nervously once more. You have to swallow down the acid that threatens to spill from the bottom of your stomach. If you weren't careful that could be your blood, decorating his disgusting carpets. 

You look up and see paintings lining the walls. They look expensive, or rather you think they might have looked expensive if they weren't sitting awkwardly on the wall with rips through them. One of a man with black hair, his eyes seeming to bore into your own as if he was alive, is decorated with blood. It’s practically shredded but for some reason his torso and face remain intact enough to be recognizable. Maybe Astarion has kept it as a reminder. 

Finally you reach a room, you're confused but you hear murmuring from inside so you reach for the door handle. But his hand catches your wrist before you reach it, letting go to put a finger to his lips. His voice is hushed, “quiet my little mouse.” But he motions for you to look through the crack of the door. You do. 

Inside your parents stand, nervously conversing. They're here. You almost rejoice, cry out in relief, but remain silent in fear of the set of teeth standing flush against your back. He’s so close you can feel his breath breeze against your ear. You look back to him, meeting his gaze but he shakes his head and turns your head back with his long finger against your chin. Their voices are hushed, sure, but you can still hear them clear enough to be disgusted. 

“I just… I don't know if I can do this to her, William.” Your mothers gaze is cast down, holding your fathers hands in front of her. He removes one from her grip to cup her cheek and force her gaze up. 

“Think of how good this will be for us. This money will ensure we never feel stress again my dear. Please.. Brenna, my love, she wants this, she has always wanted this. She will be happy here,” Your mothers gaze seems unsure at your fathers statements so he continues, “She will be, eventually.” 

You watch as your mother reaches towards the bed, lifting a dress made from a fabric you cant even recognize and she seems to ponder. ‘No mom. Say no.’ You plead silently, hoping that your mother-daughter connection can be strengthened in this moment more than it has ever been before. But you see it to be a pointless thought as a smile, albeit small, appears on her face. “Okay.. She is his.” 

Like a rock your stomach drops, you reach to burst into the room but Astarions grip returns to your arm, holding you in place. “Still think they will come for you?” He drags you along with him as he walks back down the hallway, leaving the door behind and, you realize, your parents forevermore. 

“You paid them off..” You push him, watching as he stumbles and lets his fingers fall from your arm. 

“It is not my fault your parents value money more than their own daughter.” His voice is sharp, and rises over you as his back straightens out. You're sure he isn’t even that much taller than you but his tone, and the way he holds himself make him tower over you, if not metaphorically. 

His statement is true, and that steadiness that you have been holding onto since you met his gaze is suddenly broken. Tears prick at your waterline. Your stubbornness has collapsed and it has you collapsing to the floor along with it. Your breath catches in your chest, and you try so hard not to let this display become more than it already has but you begin to cry. Like a child. Blubbering, shaky inhales, loud sobs echoing through the hallway. 

Astarion lowers himself to his knees in front of you, palm landing on your cheek to lift your eyes to him. “They might not see your value, but I do. You have wished to be a noble. A queen. A ruler. And I will make you one, my dear.” His hand is so much warmer than it had seemed in the dark, and you somehow feel worse as you stare into his crimson eyes. They are not comforting, he is not even trying. This is for his own personal gain. 

“I need someone to rule by my side,” He seems to squeeze out the words ‘by my side’ like he doesn’t believe it himself. But you are delirious. You have been drugged. Your parents have just abandoned you for money. You will never see your friends again. So you believe him, because it is the only thing that you can hold onto at this moment. His words, his hand against your skin, is the only thing keeping you from losing your mind further. 

“A noble?”

He has to hide the hunger that flashes across his eyes. This is easy. An easy game and he is winning it. You have basically already agreed already. He realizes at this moment that the weeks he spent observing you and having his people report your every move to him were not a waste. He has found the exact way to make you easy. You have fended for yourself the entirety of your teenage years, felt no consequence, you have no idea how to deal with not getting your way. But he has made it seem, somehow, that his way is the way you wish to live. You will agree. 

“Yes my dear. A noble. My queen. My lady. You will be mine.. won't you?”

A nod is all you can muster. 

“That's a good pet. You'll make such a pretty spawn for me."

[emmyc0z]

hi! i literally love how you write❤️

could you write a fluff with a little bit of nsfw (if you dont take nsfw requests, just do it all fluff, i love fluff so i doesnt bother me) with a fem reader x cloud?

here's how i want the story, but you can obviosuly change it to your preferences.

y/n was a childood friend of cloud,and she didnt see him in A LOT of years. then she encounters him and they basically talk about rhe the good old times. a month passes and it's y/n's birthday, they all celebrate at the bar and give y/n a present. then it's cloud turn to give her the present, and he gives her a boquet and a letter with some photos from much years ago. after that, he kisses her and she kisses back. after the birthday party, cloud was a little bit drunk so y/n took him at her house to take care of him and cloud gets all clingy and says things to y/n. (if you want to add some nsfw, you can add it in this part of the story)

thank you❤️

Happy Birthday Slowpoke

pairing : cloud strife x fem! reader

description : an unexpected reunion leads to birthday wishes, unspoken love confessions, and drunken kisses.

warnings : small make out sesh but no smut, drinking alcohol (clouds gets drunk)

Sector 7 gets quieter at night. Never silent. But quiet. Walking through the streets is much nicer at night when there aren't so many people pushing to get through. It’s easier to think. Easier to take in your surroundings. 

There’s a certain hum that brings you comfort as you walk through the nearly empty streets. You remember when you first came to Sector 7, nervous and scared, and still dealing with the aftershock of Nibelheim. 

Nibelheim. Cloud.

God. How was he still stuck so deep in your head after years? 

You missed him. Him and his stupid blond hair. 

It was embarrassing how fast your head would turn at the sight of any blond man. Any. Even children sometimes. You had to catch a second glance to make sure you hadn’t just seen your childhood friend run past you as he giggled with his friends. It was never him, but you hoped. 

The peace of your walk was disturbed by a man walking past you. Bright blond hair fluff led up like the feathers of a chocobo in black clothes, and heavy footsteps. He pays you no mind as he walks past you, but you force yourself to do a double take. 

But this man is different. Even with his back turned to you he feels familiar. His hair stands up, the way Clouds did when he was a child. He’s dressed in the garb of a SOLDIER with a big sword on his back, Clouds always promised he’d become a SOLDIER. And he even walks the same way Cloud would as a kid, trudging along his path, god forbid someone think of him as anything but independent.

It all feels too coincidental. And without thinking your lips open to speak, “Cloud?” 

“Hm?” The man turns, only his head and shoulder so as to not pay you too much care, to face you. And your mind is flooding with nostalgia.

You're running after a young boy, blond haired, breathless laughs leave yours and his mouths. 

“Cloud!!! Wait for me!!” You squeal after the older 

boy whose legs carry him much faster than you can keep up with. And your tired legs, mixed with your lack of available air, are making it harder to match his pace. 

For a minute you think he doesn’t hear you, or maybe, that he doesn't want to listen. But soon enough he skids to a stop, looking back at you as he pants lightly. He wears a stupid smile on his face, cheeks flushed.

“Sorry y/n.. I keep forgetting I’m too fast for you. Your little legs can’t keep up,” He teases and lets out a juvenile giggle.

Finally you meet his side, matching his breath, “They can so!”. 

“Yeah right slow poke.” A childlike pout appears on your face, fitting for an 8 year old you. Always pouting. Always following after Cloud. 

You were never really sure why Cloud kept you around. But when you were kids, it never really mattered for more than a second. You just liked being around him, and him you.

“It’s not fair. You're older, your legs are longer!” He smiles down at you, laughing between heavy breaths.

“Only a year older.” 

“Still!” He stays quiet for a minute, letting you catch your breath without teasing you further. 

When you finally straighten back up, he’s still showing a giddy smile on his lips. Without a word, he grabs your hand in his, and takes off running the same way he had been before. Only this time you can keep up with him, pulled behind him.

“Cloud!” 

“Hm?” He turns to look behind him, a wide smile full of teeth on his face and eyes bright and blue. Still hopeful. 

His eyes meet yours and you realize the same blue eyes are looking into yours, only they are tired and the hope of his youth has been long gone. Yours probably look the same, usually. But right now they are wide and beginning to tear up. And his pupils, blown in recognition, are nearly as wide as yours.

“Y/n?”

“Cloud!” In an instant you latched onto him, arms wrapped tightly around his torso. Your face squished against his hard chest, probably wetting the front of his tank top from the tears slipping from your eyes.

He’s hesitant, but eventually one hand lands on your back and the other grabs onto your waist, pulling you in impossibly closer to his body. When you were kids, hugs were nothing out of the ordinary, but this one feels so different. You’ve been longing to hug him since you were 13, longing to see him since you were 17.

It’s overwhelming, the amount of emotion flowing through your body. You're happy to see your best friend again. You're sad that you haven’t seen him in so long. And you're angry that he left without ever saying goodbye. 

“Y..you.. are you real?” 

You look up to find his voice, wiping away the wetness from your face. His hands move to touch your face, then to your shoulders and finally fall to his sides. 

“Yes, Cloud. I'm real. When..how.. It’s been years Cloud.” 

“I know.”

There are a million things you’d like to say to him. You’d like to scream at him and punch at his chest until he bruises, not likely you could hit him hard enough to leave any marks but you’d try. But then you want to hug him, and run through the streets with him hand and hand like when you were kids. You don’t know what to say to him, where to start, or if you even should. 

“I missed you.” 

“I know.” He doesn’t say it back, and the lack of emotion that he shows is almost aggravating. But you don’t make it known to him how annoyed you are at him for his underwhelming reaction to this reunion. 

You invite him back to your apartment and, with a lot of convincing no and many ‘pleases’, he agrees to join you for an hour tops. His hesitancy hurts your feelings, you don’t admit that to him though, god forbid he realize that you hadn’t changed much since you were young. Since he clearly had. 

“You can sit down, you know.” He raises his brows, your acknowledgment of his awkwardness unexpected, but he takes a seat at your small table. The chair he sits in is the perfect size for you, and while he’s not the tallest man you’ve ever encountered, he almost seems to not fit on it. 

He is so silent, it stirs up years of pent up sadness and frustration deep within you, and inside you deeper still a fury of anger festers. But you push it away, locking those emotions up for another night when you haven’t just stumbled into your best friend of 10 years after 4 years of being apart. And you offer him a drink. 

“Are you gonna tell me what you’ve been up to for the last 4 years?” He is silent, stoic, hides his face by taking a sip from the glass of water you offered him.

“Not tonight.” Your teeth grind together inside your mouth, holding back your tongue from spewing words better left unsaid. He must see the clench in your jaw, the anger and disappointment in your eyes, “But another time. I will.” 

You fill the rest of the night with slow, and awkward, conversation. He doesn't make much effort to initiate it, but he answers your earnest questions without any complaint. At least the ones that don’t involve his work, his past, his lack of a goodbye. So the night moves slowly.

It doesn’t feel like very long has passed at all by the time he tells you he has to leave. 

“Already?” 

“Yes. I’m sorry, my days are busy.” 

“Are you staying in Sector 7?” He nods, you're not appreciating this strong and silent thing he has going on. 

“Working?” Another nod. “Well..if you find yourself free next month, we’re celebrating my birthday at the Seventh Heaven..uh.. it’s Tifa's bar actually.!”

“I know.”

“Oh.. yeah I guess, you would’ve gone to see her.” 

“I didn’t go t- .. I’m sorry. I should go.” He walks to the door, posture straight and stoic expression broken by a look of pity for just a moment. You walk him out. 

You can’t help yourself from speaking as your eyes meet his back, your mind is lacking in self restraint tonight, “Will you come?” 

He faces you, mouth parted before a small smile plants itself there, “I’ll try, y/n, goodnight.” And he’s gone into the night with quickened steps.

“Hey! Have some faith in him. I’m sure he’ll make it.” Tifa leans over the counter with a bright smile, sliding a drink into your hands. 

“Yeah, I’m sure.” 

The bar isn’t full, but the people that matter are here, most of them anyway. 

Biggs and Wedge, probably already tipsy based on the volume they're producing, are playing darts in the corner. Barret sits on the other end of the bar, Marlene seated beside him as they whisper between each other. And Tifa stands in front of you, a positive grin lingering on her face. 

“Y/n!” Marlene springs off the barstool, with the help of her father, and rushes over to you with a clumsily wrapped gift in her hands. 

“For me? Well thank you, Marlene.” You smile down at her, gently taking the gift from her hands and unwrapping it to find a bracelet made of beads and charms. 

“I made it for you. And I have one too! See?” She holds up her wrist, which you hadn’t realized was hidden behind her back, to show you the matching bracelet she wears. You lift into your arms, holding her in a tight hug. 

“They’re perfect Marlene, thank you.” 

With her still in your arms, you resume conversation with Tifa, and are promptly joined by Barret. You love them, like family of course. But you are so focused on the lack of Clouds presence that you forget to fully no appreciate the ones around you. 

Tifa reaches behind her, into the fridge and pulls outs an obviously homemade cake. “We decorated it together,” She slides a wink Marlene’s way and begins lighting the candles. “Make a wish y/n.” 

You think for a moment, it’s childish that you're hoping for your wish to work so genuinely, but you take a deep breath and blow out your candles with a heavy breath. One sweep. 

“What’d you wish for y/n?” Marlene’s voice is loud beside you. 

“Hey now.. you know the rules, I can’t tell you or else it won’t come true.” She pouts for a minute but her smile quickly returns when Tifa hands her a piece of cake. You take your own piece in your hands, sharing a smile with Tifa and Marlene. 

“Hey man! Good to see you. Glad you could make it.” 

Your eyes are moving faster than you can focus on the sound of Biggs’ words, finding the one person your wish standing in the doorway. In his hands he holds a bouquet, flowers of your favorite colors wrapped with paper and a pink bow.

He approaches you with a sheepish smile on his face, “Sorry I’m late. I didn’t know what to get you as a gift, I hope I got the colors right. Oh! And there’s this,” He reaches into his back pocket and hands you a sealed envelope. On its cover, your name is written in messy writing.

“These are ..beautiful, Cloud, thank you.” 

“Drink?” Tifa is cheery, as always, if not more so. 

“Yeah, thanks.” He takes a seat beside you and you try to hide the way your eyes linger on him. The muscles in his grown arms. The familiarity of his spiky hair. You're not so angry anymore, now that you've had time to process his return, rather longing for the relationship you had as kids. The closeness you’d been lacking in your friendships since he left.

“Are you gonna open it?” 

“What?” His voice brings you back to the moment, and you realize you’ve been ogling at him.

“The envelope..” 

“Oh! Yeah, right. Yeah.” 

You reach for it and carefully open it, trying not to rip the paper too badly. Tucked inside the envelope is a photo of the two of you as children and a folded up letter, reading : 

This is stupid. But I tried to write something so I wouldn’t have to say all this out loud.

I haven’t been around for a long time, so I don’t really know where we stand anymore. But as far as I know, you’ve been the only person I’ve been able to open up to about everything. 

Without you, I probably would’ve spent my childhood alone. 

When we were kids, I swore I’d be a SOLDIER. But to be honest it wasn’t all I thought it would be. And I’m sorry I left you for shinra.

And I know I should’ve said goodbye, and I probably hurt you when I left. But I’m here now, and I don’t plan on leaving anytime soon. 

You were my best friend or you are my best friend, doesn't matter. 

Happy Birthday Slowpoke.

He looks at you intensely as he tries to gauge your reaction. It’s a simple letter, and could be written by a child with a little effort. But it’s Cloud, and it’s the most you can ask from a man like him. It still has your hands wiping at your eyes.

“Hey, did you make her cry? No crying on your birthday!” Tifa returns, leaning over the counter to slide Cloud his drink, looking over at you. “Y’alright?”

“Yeah I’m okay. I’m really good actually, thank you.. for this, Cloud”.

He nods, and you swear his cheeks redden, but he looks away before either you or Tifa can comment on it.

Cloud's drink is gone in moments, and he is asking for another, whilst making comfortable conversation with you. A ‘happy birthday’ ‘how’s your day been’ ‘what do you do for work now’ kind of comfortable. He doesn’t ask anything personal, does not dwell on the past, you almost wish he would. 

But you indulge him and his calculated questions, being satisfied with any conversation at all, and let the night flow.

It doesn't take long to realize that Cloud is not a drinker, or at least that he does not know his limits. It’s dark out now, and music plays from the jukebox, and Cloud sways drunkenly to a song. You can’t help but laugh, whilst also feeling weird seeing him be so free and not high strung. Not a SOLDIER, just a man.

He stands up, grabbing onto your arm to pull you over in front of the jukebox where Wedge is dancing with Tifa. 

“Careful Cloud!” You stumble after him, bumping into his chest as he pulls you. He doesn’t seem to notice, grabbing onto your hands to spin you and move you around. 

“You're a pretty good dancer now,” He moves you to face him, moving to the music still with a goofy smile on his face, “Do you remember.. when we..when we were kids and you would step on my feet ..everytime we danced.” 

You giggle at his slurred words, “You're so drunk right now.” 

“And you’re ..sso pretty..” He moves in closer, close enough that you can smell the liquor lingering on his lips. 

“Oh wow.. you're really drunk.. haha.” You make no effort to move away from him, but you laugh at his actions to relieve the awkwardness flowing from your body. 

“Mhm..” He closes the gap and places his lips against yours. Your hands find his chest, eyes falling close as you kiss him back. Your self control is weak, and you want to keep his lips against yours. But he's drunk, and your head is starting to spin.

Somehow you find the strength to push him away and he moves away with a pout on his puffy lips. 

“Let’s.. uh.. get you home, yeah?” 

“But I’m having fun!” He attempts to spin you, but he ends up making himself dizzy, “Actually, yeah.. that’s probably a good idea.”

“Yeah.” You laugh at his flushed face, holding onto his arm as you say goodbye to everyone and leave the bar.

“Can we go to yours?” He doesn't let go of you, even after you’ve walked halfway down an empty Sector 7 road, but he has instead moved his grip to hold your hand to keep you close to him.

“My apartment?” 

“Mhm.”

“Yeah..yeah sure.” He leads you to your own apartment like he knows the route by heart, he’s only been there once and yet he acts like he lives there by the speed he finds it.

Once inside he collapses onto your bed, not much space in the apartments, so you suppose that was normal considering there was no couch. 

“Do you want some water?” He shakes his head, laying on his back to stare up at the ceiling. 

You move towards the stereo on the opposite wall, turning on the radio so there is noise for you to focus on instead of his arms as they rest underneath his head.

“I missed you too .. y'know.” Clouds words barely make their way to you, his voice quiet and music humming just loud enough.

“Hm?” You turn to face him, moving to sit on the ledge of the bed in front of where he lays. 

“The night I saw you,” He leans on his elbow to hold himself up, “you said that you missed me. and I didn’t say it back. I did. I missed you. I just didn’t know what to say to you then.”

You don’t say anything, you're not sure what to say anyways. 

He looks into your eyes for a few minutes before pulling you by your arm so you lay beside him, but he shifts positions so he holds himself above you with his hands. 

“Can I kiss you?” 

“Yes.”

His lips meet yours once more. But unlike the bar this kiss is calculated, not clumsy and childish. He is drunk, and it’s obvious by the taste that remains on his lips even after he has licked them clean multiple times.

Your fingers find his hair, his knee finds its way between your legs and your chest begins to move quicker. He moves to latch his lips onto your neck, sucking spots that will definitely be purple and red tomorrow, while his hands find their place under your shirt on your hips.

And while you’d love for Cloud to continue his journey, the fact remains that he is drunker than a teenager on their 18th birthday, and you want this moment to be one enjoyed sober. So you pull his head up to meet his eyes, and very puffy lips. 

“Your drunk Cloud. I think we better save this for another night.” 

He pouts, face flushed, but he nods with a sigh. Getting comfy he finds a place to rest his head, on your chest, but his hands don’t move from your skin. If anything you feel his grip tighten, keeping you close as he practically lays on top of you. 

“I missed you, a lot. I thought I'd never see you again when you left.” Your fingers find his hair once more, rubbing at his scalp and playing with blond strands.

“I know. I didn’t think I’d see you either.” 

The room is quiet, except for the soft hum of music flowing from the stereo. His fingers tense and relax again in sync with his slow breaths, moving to trace the softness of your skin. But eventually his movements stop and he seems to still. 

“Cloud?”

There are still a million things you’d like to ask, like to say. And so many years of words you’d like to catch up on between him, months of love confessions that you had admitted to Tifa that you’d like to share with him. But the soft snores that begin to leave his mouth tell you he’s in no mood to talk right now.

“Goodnight soldier..”

[emmyc0z]

pairing : dean winchester x (fem) reader

summary : childhood friends turned strangers reunited when an incident occurs with the winchesters father

You had known the Winchester boys since they were kids. When Sam was still looking up to his older brother. And when Dean hadn’t developed his ‘have no feelings’ mentality. You were between the two of them always, literally and physically, older than Sam, younger than Dean and always between them. You were taller than both of them. They were still scrawny. Couldn’t keep up with you. And they could never yell at you because of their frequent voice cracks, you’d break out laughing and they couldn’t stay angry when they saw you so happy. 

All your free time was spent together, the three of you. Even though you were friends with both of them, you always felt closer to Dean. He seemed to get you more, he encouraged you to do dumb things and then followed after you. And then Sam would be there to panic and worry when one or both of you got hurt. Dean would always walk it off with a smile on his face, blood covering his knees, his elbow, his face, wherever he had gotten hurt. Didn’t matter to him, he was having fun. Usually he’d check in on you before he even thought about his own injuries.

Dean was your person, your best friend. Your first childish crush, the first boy you talked to another girl about, the first boy you held hands with. Sure he was holding your hand to make you run faster, a game of tag and Sam was it, but it still had your little heart pounding.

But then Dean had started helping his dad when he’d go on his hunting trips. More than he was before. Sam too. When Sam started staying home, refusing to go, coming over to your house with his homework only to forget about it and start ranting about his brother, you were relieved. Sam was more focused on school, and it made him much better company than Dean. Even though he was a couple years younger than you, he was still one of your closest friends. 

It hurt at first. Dean stopped saying goodbye when he’d go. He stopped coming over as soon as he got back. He no longer gave you a hug when you’d leave their house, he usually wouldn’t even come out of his room if you were over. You tried to talk to him once or twice but he’d give you short, indifferent answers, he didn’t even want to speak to you anymore. 

So Sam and you got closer. He let you in on their families biggest secret. Told you about his childhood, told you about what Dean and his father did when they went on their ‘hunting trips’. And when he saw how interested you were, he told you more.

He was disappointed. He knew how you felt about Dean. He could see it in your eyes, when Dean would walk past you without saying anything and you’d silently beg him to look over at you. He’d always known that you’d go for his older brother, Dean and you were closer in age. Sam knew Dean was a better match for you, it was so obvious when you’d become so interested in the paranormal and he was so interested in getting away from it.

Their whole childhood was a competition. He knew that, whether Dean knew that or not Sam had no idea. But Sam knew that Dean and he had always liked you. Both of them. And as a child he always hated seeing you so happy with him, but now he hated seeing you so sad without Dean’s attention even more than seeing you happy. You couldn’t help it, you had never looked at any other man the way you looked at Dean. 

When Sam went to college there was no more reason to go over to the Winchester house, no one was ever there anyways. If they were, they had no interest in seeing you. Deep down you still craved Dean’s approval, yearned for his attention the way you had it when you were kids. Yearning so much so that when an opportunity arose for you to start hunting on your own, you took it. You figured you had known enough for a small, local job, Sam had taught you enough. And had tested your stamina and strength your whole childhood. 

You were hoping it would make you feel better, saving people's lives, but it didn’t. It only made you miss your boys more.

And then one day, you get a call. 

It must be midnight when the phone rings. You pull your warm sheets off your body, feet hitting the cold hardwood floor under your bed. From across the room your phone is echoing. When you answer it the voice on the other line almost makes you drop the phone, heart picking up in speed. It’s Sam.

“Sam?” Your voice is shaky, probably groggy, but you can't tell. You’re trying to even out your breathing, trying to make sure this is a real phone call and not something you're dreaming up. 

“Hey, y/n, I’m sorry for calling so late.” 

“No, it's fine. What’s going on? Is everything okay?” 

“It’s about our dad. Can we come inside?” 

“What?” You practically fly over to the window, tripping over your rug in the process, you peak your head through the curtains. Outside there's an Impala sitting in front of your house, Sam stands there leaning against the door. He gives you a wave as he sees your head appear. 

“You’re in front of my house.” 

“Yes we are.” You didn’t catch it the first time. Sam said ‘we’. Meaning Dean was also here. 

“Is she gonna let us in or what?” Gruff voice. Not Sam’s must be Deans. It’s been years and it still hurts to hear the indifference in his voice.

“I’ll be downstairs in a second.”

Sam hangs up and you're instantly searching your floor for the pajama pants you kicked off in your sleep. Blue plaid pants, and a Led Zeppelin t-shirt. The one Dean had gifted you when he got his first ever paycheck. You hated how even after years of being ignored and pushed aside, he still finds a way to be a part of your life. 

Outside, Dean finally steps out of his precious car. “Y’know Sam I really don’t understand why we're here. Dad is still missing, and I thought you were invested in this search. Now we're here, sitting like dogs on your ex-girlfriends doorstep.” 

“Ex-girlfriend?” 

“Yeah? You guys broke up when you went to college I assume, or else you wouldn’t have been with Jess.” 

“Dean, jesus man, y/n was never my girlfriend.”

“What d’you mean?”

“Tell me you shoved her away for the entirety of your teenage years because you were jealous. Why couldn’t you just admit you were in love with her before you ran away from it.” Sam runs an irritated hand through his hair, not impressed by his brother's inability to speak to anyone before jumping to conclusions, all his life.

Dean’s jaw clenches, angry at himself, angry at Sam, irritated and tired from being on the road. But he holds it back, “Whatever, this really isn’t important right now. You're gonna tell me why we're here or what?” 

“She’s a hunter, Dean, I looked her up. I think she could help, she’s been around, leaving tracks.”

Sam is relieved when you finally open the door, tired of the conversation he’s currently having. Your hair is up, lazily thrown into an updo because you didn’t have time to brush it. Dean notices the shirt you’re wearing instantly, you kept it, all these years.

You usher them in, leading them to your kitchen where they explain everything to you. You believe them, obviously, he doesn’t take very much to convince you of their story. Sam had practically prepared you for this exact moment since you were kids. And in the morning you're setting off in the car with them, a duffle bag full of all your important shit thrown on the floor of the backseat.

Weeks later, you’ve gotten used to being around them again. The dynamic is weird now, you’re closer with Sam then you are with Dean. And you watch Dean flirt with a new girl in every town you visit. Little you would be screaming at the thought. 

You keep up with them, it almost surprises them. Almost. 

A particularly hard job throws your memories back to your childhood. Dean and you rush in, fists first, no thoughts. And Sam is there to pick up the pieces. But you get injured, worse than any of your childhood injuries. 

Scratches cover your body. Bruises paint your skin with blue and purplish tones, your arms, your ribs, your face. Your lip is bleeding, consistently, because the cut on it keeps opening. Even through the pain, when Sam and Dean find a new job, you climb into the car with them to get to the next motel. 

But your plans of joining them on this job are destroyed when Dean tells you to stay in the motel. 

“No way! I’m going with you guys.” 

‘Y/n look at the state you're in, you’re not coming.” 

“I’m fine!” 

“Y/n please-” “Sam wait for me outside.” Dean’s eyes are serious, Sam goes to protest but decides against it when Dean's eyebrows furrow. He leaves without any argument, it was always like this as kids with them too.

“You’re not coming. End of story.” 

“You don’t get to say that. You don’t get to control me.”

“Okay you can say that, but I am telling you, you’re not coming with us.” 

“Dean.”

“Y/n.” You’re fighting with your eyes. He doesn’t want to argue with you, he actually wishes he could bring himself to apologize. You're scared that if you start yelling everything you’ve wanted to scream at him since you were 16 might fall out. 

“You’re not coming.” 

“Why not?” Your voice is raised. 

“Because I can’t handle losing you from my stupid decisions again.” He’s running a hand through his hair, sitting down on the bed across from you.

“What?” 

“When we were kids I lost you because I couldn’t handle the idea of you and Sam being together. I pushed away the one girl I have ever felt anything real for. I would watch as you left the house and it would kill me not to say goodbye, I always thought it might be the last time. And then you stopped coming over and I never got to say I was sorry. It’s been years, and I have never been able to stop thinking about you."

His breathing is jagged, you’re quiet, you sit with a mix of guilt and years of what you thought was unrequited love stirring in your brain. 

“And now, you wanna go out there and get thrown around some more? I barely let you come with us in the first place, I can’t let you do this. I won’t allow you to be hurt again because I made a stupid decision.�� 

“Okay..” 

“Okay?” 

“Okay, I’ll stay.” A breath flows from his chest, relief, weight lifted. He stands up, you follow his actions and stand up in front of him. You hesitate for a minute but eventually allow yourself to wrap your arms around his torso, “On one condition.”

“And what’s that?”

“I’ll stay if you promise to come back alive. Y’know, cause I won't be there to save your ass.” You pull your chest away just enough to look up at him, his green eyes find yours, he’s chewing his lip. His hand finds the back of your hair, a smirk now planted on his face.

“C’mon, you know I can handle myself just fine sweetheart.”