#AS I SAID THE PENDULUM SWINGS

[eridias]

i was thinking abt ysera's backstory (while eating soup btw) bc i do need to come up with one that's more fleshed out. & i think her and lilith sparred quite often, i think there were rogues on the outskirts of her temple where she would often sneak off to practice with the aid of lilith who'd been born into that lifestyle (also, i figure there were definitely people within the temple that had some humanity to them, before being embraced by the cult completely--- and the ones that weren't so easily taken? the ones that were able to see through, tried to protect ysera regardless? were sacrificed, mind corrupted by her hand regardless of what she wanted because their God required it)

it lends some cadence to her abilities, and if we assume that she DOESN'T immediately seek out the senobium after massacring the temple, say, it takes her a year or a few; living in what few civilizations were left, it would make sense why she's the way she is yk. so hardened & cold, not once hesitating to pull her sword out, the detachment & restraint, why she leans so well into mercenary jobs. but also, why despite it all, despite hardened bones, she is softer than she should be--- bc like w/ all my muses, there's a pendulum, and she holds onto who she is bc if becoming a God means sacrificing innocents / the complete unrepentant loss of humanity? she dont want it

i was just thinking this song fits her very well

BONUS. bad end ysera merging w her god (she can now pull a sword out of her boobs so is it really a bad end)

[hitwiththetmnt]

Back, P28 THE END

@yorshie thank you for letting me illustrate one of your stories as well as insert my own OC into the mix!

“Cistern” was an amazing comic to work on that really helped me explore my own comic style. Here’s to more amazing stories and funny comics in the future! (=´∀｀)人(´∀｀=)

Comic masterpost

[rearranging-deck-chairs]

15 being like "you cant save everyone" vital lesson for a doctor

[viir-tanadhal]

next psb album is literally going to be everything i've wanted

[trollbreak]

Ok I can have 1 emotional post abt it today. As a treat. Um. Ghosti would hold my hand so soft abt all this. So would a lot of my guys but ghosti specifically would have the. Maybe specific feeling to it I’m feelin

[masonsystem]

this fanart

[matrixrry]

.

[florencemtrash]

Heads Will Roll | Azriel x Reader Oneshot

Warnings: Violence (aka Reader kills some fae and Rhysand and Azriel are 100% cool with it), fluff

One of Koschei's followers turns up to the Court of Nightmares prepared to make a bargain: your life in exchange for Ataraxia. But he'll soon learn that you are not to be underestimated, and you are always exactly where you want to be.

Azriel bristled from behind Feyre’s shoulder when the male winnowed into the Court of Nightmares in a dramatic display of power that had everyone beneath the dais falling back.

He was all sharp lines, emboldened by the pure black silhouette of his cape that flared out behind him, teasingly parting to reveal the bone white sword strapped to his right hip that seemed to whisper with horrible power. The only piece of him that didn’t look like it was cut from death and destruction were his bright blue eyes - startlingly innocent and all the more unnerving for it. He fit in well with the violence the Court of Nightmares naturally radiated. 

Rhysand’s eyebrow curled up in a look of carefully crafted boredom from atop his obsidian throne. The only one who looked more nonchalant than him was Feyre. She tilted her head up, staring down the slant of her nose to the unknown male as he extended his arms and bowed as prettily as a bird. 

“Greetings.” Even his voice was sharp and cutting. “To the Lord and Lady.” 

Cassian frowned from behind Rhysand’s back at the omission of their proper title. To the outside, Rhysand was anything if not bored. Inside, he was ready to blow the male to bits. He wore Koschei’s stamp on his forehead, red and dripping like a fresh wound.

Neither the High Lord nor the High Lady deigned to reply.

The male only smiled. All teeth. 

“I come to you on behalf of my master.” His smile grew. More teeth. “You may have heard his name.” 

“Koschei.” The name rolled off Feyre’s lips as easily as if she were ordering a meal - blasé and unimportant. But the name shifted the energy in the room, stirring up hornet's nests of gossip. Heads bowed towards one another like grass stalks in the wind, whispering.

Feyre tapped one finger on her forehead, “He has a fondness for marking his followers.”

“Like a collar on a dog.” Rhysand finished. He stroked the bond, grounded by the feeling of Feyre’s very soul on the other side. She had always been - and always would be - his calm.

“My name is Darwynn.” The male tipped his white head, “And I bring news from my master. News you may find worthy of your time.” 

Azriel’s heart picked up in his chest. 

He knew what was coming - the words that would soon slip out of Darwynn’s mouth. You’d been gone for over a week and he felt your absence from his side as intensely as if someone had ripped the wings from his back. Empty, cold, and unbalanced.

For the first three days he hadn’t worried, even as the bond lay dormant in his chest. It wasn’t uncommon for you to hunt after secrets, unraveling mysteries like threads in a coat or diving into the unknown with an insatiable appetite.

Three days were nothing. But nine days was getting to be concerning.

“Go on.” Feyre said with a wave of her hand, looking more interested in the glass of wine in her hand than anything else. 

Darwynn reached into his pocket and pulled out a thin string of silver stained with blood - a necklace crafted from unbreakable metal with a deep blue pendant swaying like a pendulum. It was a piece of one of Azriel’s siphons, imbued with a small measure of his power and given to you as a Solstice gift after you’d accepted the bond. In the twenty years you’d been together, you’d never once taken it off. It was unnatural to see it swinging in the cruel male's hands.

Cassian growled. Azriel’s jaw clenched, beautiful brows lifting only ever so slightly in surprise. It was the only expression the Shadowsinger had shown all night.

Rhysand mirrored his expression. “Ahhhh yes, my sister. How long has she been missing for now, Az?” Rhysand looked back at him, some unspoken agreement passing through that brief glance. If this male had truly captured you, he would not be leaving this room with his head still on his shoulders.

“Nine days.” The Shadowsinger said, his mouth twitching to the side in a cryptic mix of a smirk and a snarl.

“You have her.” Feyre said. It wasn’t a question.

Darwynn’s eyes lit up with glee and he nodded, clapping his hands together like a child opening birthday presents.

“And what do you want for her? That is why you are here, is it not?” Feyre said once his “applause” ended.

Darwynn shook his finger at her, “It is comforting to know that since Amarantha’s trials, you’ve learned to - how shall I say this? Read between the lines.” 

“Careful.” Rhysand said, a warning trapped within that honey-laced word. Feyre’s illiteracy was hardly a concern for anyone anymore - Rhysand had seen to that - but that didn’t mean it wasn’t a subject that smarted and burned when prodded. 

Feyre’s dark red lips only turned up in a small smirk. Her mate would not allow any harm to befall her - even insults from pathetic creatures such as Darwynn.

"But I digress." Darwynn said silkily, “You should know she is uninjured-” 

“Obviously,” Cassian huffed under his breath, stealing a glance at his brother beside him. Azriel was handling this surprisingly well. If it were Nesta who’d been kidnapped and held for ransom, Cassian would not be able to school his emotions so readily. 

“And my master would like to make a trade.”

“A trade?” Rhysand said, displaying more interest in the subject than ever before. This was an opportunity to play Koschei’s hand. To gain whatever knowledge they could from the slippery sorcerer who was gaining more momentum each passing day. Koschei was still confined to his lake on the continent, but that didn’t mean he was powerless. No, not at all. 

Darwynn pointed a knowing finger at Rhysand’s belt where Ataraxia rested as silent as the death that hung over a deep winter’s night. 

“I see.” Rhysand said. 

So that’s what he wants. Feyre spoke to him through the bond, Some trace of Nesta’s power.

Y/n was right. He wants to leave the lake.

And he needs whatever power Nesta took from the Cauldron to do it.

Rhys hummed in thought, one finger lazily tracing the edge of his drink. He knew his sister, knew the power that raced through her veins, and she was not one to be trifled with. But people loved to underestimate her - the poor second child too weak and damaged to fight after losing her wings to the old High Lord of Spring. The female who rested on her brother’s strength and crown like a sapling tied to a stake. She wielded those assumptions carefully. It was perhaps one of her greatest weapons. 

Nine days. She’d been gone for nine days. Nine days since he’d sent her on a mission to the continent to spy on Koschei’s followers. Six days since anyone had heard from her. Three days since her scheduled return. 

Azriel stiffened and blinked - a movement so subtle that only Rhys, Cass, and Feyre noticed. All at once the tension left Rhysand's shoulders. Such a reaction from Az could only mean one thing - you'd arrived.

Rhysand clicked his tongue disapprovingly, taking a deep draught of his wine and muttered, “She’s late.” 

“She likes to be thorough.” Azriel said with the smallest of smiles.

“Even so. I don’t like to be kept waiting. She could’ve been captured sooner. Escaped earlier. Given us notice that she was coming.” He shook his raven black hair.

Azriel smirked, feeling the strength of the bond in his chest. Never wavering, “Maybe she finally decided to adopt your flair for the dramatic.” His golden hazel eyes flickered upward for the briefest of moments and you flashed him a quick smile from where you hid in the mountain rock above.

You’d only just opened your side of the bond, love and reassurance rolling over him like a flood. You were safe. You were whole. And you had carried out your plan beautifully.

Sorry to keep you waiting, my love. I had business to attend to. You spoke to your mate and only him.

I'd wait forever for you. You know that.

He felt your laughter through the bond like the fresh rain.

Who would've guessed the Spymaster's such a romantic.

Only for you. Only for you.

Darwynn narrowed his eyes, lips flattening into a thin line as pale as the moon. Something had changed in the air and he couldn't put his finger on it. This wasn’t the reaction he’d been expecting. He knew the Inner Circle were practiced in hiding their emotions but this… they almost looked pleased. Cassian especially was grinning like a madman, suppressing his laughter as Rhysand sent his thoughts to his mind.

“My master keeps good on his promises. But until you give me the bade, I can’t promise you what pieces of your wife there will be left to bring back.” Darwynn snarled, even as that feeling of dread grew in his stomach. He’d walked in here so confident. He needed to regain that confidence. He relaxed his shoulders. Stood up taller.

A wet thud echoed throughout the hall. Someone screamed - a female with blue-gray skin reeled backward, one hand clamped over her mouth in horror as she tripped over her blood-splattered silks. 

A decapitated head - warm, oozing, and less than a day old - lolled on the floor. Its eyes were frozen in a look of surprised horror. 

Darwynn’s heart stuttered to a stop when he recognized the bloated and bruised face. The face of one of his strongest males, left behind on the continent to watch over Koschei’s prison. 

Rhysand smirked and raised his wine glass towards Darwynn. The High Lord’s power flooded out over the room, knitting together a powerful web of magic that made it impossible for anyone to winnow in or out. Except for you of course - his darling sister who never failed to find the weak points in his magic and slip through as slyly as a cat. 

“There’s something you should know about my dear sister.” Rhysand’s voice boomed over the near-silent room without even trying.

A second head dropped from the ceiling. Then a third. Then a fourth. Laid out in a neat little arc around Darwynn.

“She never gets caught. She is always precisely where she wants to be.” 

Azriel’s eyes were trained on the slate gray arches overheard where he could just barely make out your form as you winnowed around the room, hiding in the shadows and dropping your gruesome packages in a neat circle around Darwynn’s shaking form.

The male unsheathed his sword, spinning around madly and counting every thud until all twelve of your guards were accounted for. 

All dead. 

All of them.

He growled dangerously, eyes beginning to glow a brilliant, icy blue as he aimed his power at the dais, right towards Rhysand. Azriel smiled with cruel satisfaction when you slipped out from behind Darwynn’s silhouette, bloodied and menacing. The knife glinted in the faelight, catching the curve of your arm as you spun around and drove the weapon through Darwynn’s eye. The light wrapping around him fizzled out into anything.

The male rocked on his feet, arms going slack and dropping the sword with a clatter on the ground. His legs gave out soon after, his body crumpling in on itself as easily as paper. 

You calmly rolled down the sleeves of your blood-soaked shirt, flicking a piece of gore off your shoulder in a manner so similar to Rhysand that your brother couldn't help but chuckle. 

You flashed him a grin - a stroke of white brushed across a red splattered canvas. 

“Brother.” You said, tipping your chin up in a show of greeting. 

“A bit dramatic, don’t you think, sister?” Rhysand gestured out to the Court of Nightmares. You spared them a look. Everyone looked positively sinful in their scraps of silk and exposed skin, silent and trembling as their dinners burned their way up from their stomachs to their throats.

You shrugged and winked at Rhys, “I learned from the best.” 

“Go get cleaned up.” He said. It was a clear and direct command, but you didn’t miss the warmth and hint of pride in his voice.

“As my High Lord commands.” You said, bowing deeply. 

At home. Rhysand spoke in your mind as you straightened. Get some rest. You did well.

You sighed in relief, happy that you would be free from whatever Court of Nightmare business left to attend to.

Thank you.

There was a brief pause before Rhysand continued, But next time you plan to get kidnapped, let me know. I was actually starting to worry and I’m not sure my old heart can take it.

You snorted, I’ll keep your elderly constitution in mind next time.

You dipped your head once more before winnowing to the River House. The smell of home nearly knocked you off your feet.

There would be more time to joke around with your brother - more time to tell him everything you’d learned - but right now you were in desperate need of a bath.

______________

You sank into your third bath of the night, groaning in pleasure as the hot water rolled over your aching muscles. The first two baths had purely functioned to scrub off the dried blood from your hair and skin. The majority of it wasn’t yours. But this bath, with all the fragrant oils and scents, was for enjoyment and relaxation.

It was no easy business getting kidnapped, and no easy business escaping. But like every other mission, you’d made away like a bandit in the night, carrying with you priceless pieces of knowledge and enough secrets to demolish an entire court. 

Your eyes flickered open at the feeling of shadows lacing around your arms, soothing your skin with a cool touch that was no replacement for the hands that followed. 

Finally your mate had decided to join you.

You sighed in happiness as Azriel trailed his fingers up your arms, scarred hands landing at your neck and gently tilting your head back so he could plant a firm kiss on your lips.

The bond sang within your chest more joyfully than a songbird. You didn’t like silencing this connection, you didn’t like shutting Azriel out, but sometimes your work necessitated it. It was for your safety as much as his. But no one understood that more than the Spymaster of the Night Court.

“Hello, my love.” Azriel’s voice vibrated through the air, warming your chest and shaking your bones. 

“Hello, Azriel.” You murmured, soapy hands trailing through his raven black hair so that he was completely surrounded by your scent.

“Gods, I missed you.” He said. He knelt on the tiled floor behind you, wrapping his arms around your bare chest as he buried his face in your neck and breathed you in. “I missed you so much." A kiss on your neck, "So, so much.”

“I missed you too.” You murmured, pulling him around to the side of the tub so that you could see him better. You traced the faint purple bruises beneath his eyes. Not an unfamiliar sight. Azriel had never been a restful sleeper, but since mating and marrying you, he’d been spoiled rotten and now could barely sleep a wink without you curled up in his arms. 

“Sorry I messed up your hair.” You apologized, twirling the now damp strands of his hair so they curled around your fingers. 

He smiled. It was a rare sight to anyone other than you, but seeing him happy never ceased to warm your bones.

“You did well, darling.” He said, smoothing back your hair before saying more seriously, “But next time could you tell me your plans before you shut me out?” 

You winced. “I’m sorry. There wasn’t time.”

“I figured as much.” Azriel said, kissing your cheeks to show that he wasn’t upset. You leaned into his touch as he traced your cheekbones with his thumbs. 

You were the most precious thing in the world to him. More precious than his wings. More precious than his freedom. More precious than the 500 hundred years it had taken him to finally realize what you were to him. The thought of losing you was more painful than a knife to the stomach.

“You can trust me.” You said, “I know how to handle myself.” 

Azriel chuckled and shook his head, “I am very well aware of both those things,” He tilted his head in thought, “And I’m fairly certain everyone else also knows now.” 

You blushed, “Maybe it was a bit much.” 

Azriel shrugged, “Maybe. Maybe not. All I know is one thing.”

“And what is this one thing?” You asked, leaning forward and capturing his lips in another kiss. He tasted like cedar and rain. He tasted like home.

“That you should never be afraid of showing your power. Never. No matter what happens. No matter what people say.” 

His hand that had been cradling the back of your neck moved down, tracing the scars on your shoulder blades where your wings had once been. You shivered under his touch, but didn’t recoil. He understood. He was perhaps the only person who understood what it meant to have such a physical piece of yourself taken away. 

You kissed his hands, taking care to feel every valley beneath your lips and worship them. They were a part of him now, tied to him as much as his shadows were, and so how could you not love them? How could you not love him? This male who was your equal in every way imaginable and who made you feel happier and safer than you ever thought possible. 

He helped you out of the bathtub, drying your skin and hair before carefully brushing through all the tangles and knots. 

“I should go report to Rhys.” You said with little determination as Azriel laid you out on the bed and then crawled under the covers beside you, pulling you against his chest and wrapping you both under the protective cover of his wings.

“Let it wait until tomorrow. Let me have you tonight.” 

You smiled, “I’ve only been gone nine days.” 

His hazel eyes melted into yours. “Nine days too long, Y/n.” 

You could never deny him anything when he looked at you like that, so full of feeling and a rawness too intense for words. And it wasn’t like you were dying to leave this bed and chase after your brother. Like Azriel had said - it could wait until tomorrow. So you melted into his arms and watched as Azriel slowly fell into a deep sleep for the first time in nine days.

______________

Author's note:

A woman covered in the blood of her enemies is *chef's kisses*

That's it. That's the note.

[sapphoherselz]

don't worry I'm being really annoying NOW but then I'll disappear into the void cause I'm GOING YO run out of memes and I WILL have to write my thesis but nevertheless life swings like a pendulum backward and forward between hyperfixation and the lack of said hyperfixation or something

[teamfreewill2pointo]

Tumblr won't let me share the audio clip of Misha answering the last question from Crossroads, so here's a transcript.

[Fan] Um, it's kind of about Destiel so - [Misha] Perfect last question really

[Fan]So there's a show called 911 and - It's about firefighters and it's been going on for about seven seasons now. And recently in seven seasons it moved networks from Fox to ABC. And um, one of the main characters, he's a man named Buck and- he kissed another man and it's been said that by the actor who plays Buck on the previous network Fox, they wouldn't have been able to do that. So when they moved, they thought, okay, we can do it now because it's on a different network. So my question is, do you think if Supernatural had a new networks earlier on, or if the show was made later something like this could have happened between Dean and Cas? [Misha] If think that if the CW- [Fan 2] Fuck them! [Misha] had not been- Had not been so homophobic- [Audience cheers] [Misha] Dean and Cas would have been balls deep. [Audience cheers] [Rob] I think you just made a headline. [Audience cheers and laughs]

[Misha] I will tell you- I will answer that question um- in- in part earnest. I, I think that there's been a sea change in culture um broadly. When I joined Supernatural and- and- Destiel became this very like hush-hush thing on the internet that we weren't even supposed to talk about. Um, there was no way on God's green earth that anything like it, uh, a consummation of that kind of relationship would make it to the screen on our show. And by the end of the series, we had lasted for so long that the culture had changed and there had become an acceptance of the possibility that that kind of, like, Declaration of Love could happen. Um, I- I- I mean... When I was growing up, um, we used the word f*g as a filler all the time. It was like, just want to insult one another, and f*g, homo, like, that's what everyone was saying in elementary school. My kids see two dads or two moms dropping their peers off at school and it does not faze them at all. And there's none of that language in their schools. Now, I know that [Audience claps and I can't understand a few words due to clapping] we're decades away from eliminating homophobia in our society. But we've come so far and so I think the answer to your question is, yes, like had to show happened later on and had another 10 years to evolve who- who knows what could've happened. Um, I think that there would have been a lot more representation on the show, in general. We would have had more female directors. We would have had more female leads on the show. We would have had more people of color. A lot of things would have been different on the show, um, if it had just been 10 years later. Um, and there- and of course, like you know, the pendulum always swings. There's always a reaction to Evolution and, you know, in our country, we have the far right emerging and Neo-Nazis like, honestly taking, you know, like, seats of power and potentially, you know, for a second time, the presidency. It's- It's a pretty scary time.

[Rob] Book burning happening, you know? [Misha] What's that? [Rob] And book burning happening. [Misha] Yeah [Rob] You know, watching the show too- watching the rewatch podcast that I do with Rich, like- [Cheers] You see how much things have changed. There are certain things in the show where like, oh, then you wouldn't do that now. You know? [Rob] Like they use the word bitch all the time in the show and it's like- eugh- a little cringy, right? You know. [Misha] Yeah. Um, a lot of- there were a lot of things that we did that I don't think would stand the test of time at all now. But, um, we try to be better. [Rob] Also, I would just say, like, one thing I love about these rooms that this- this, um, family that we're here, in the Supernatural family, is like everybody is welcome and everybody's okay whoever you are, whatever you are, however you are- like, it's this is a safe space.

ETA: so it turns out that the enforcement at Starfury is different than the rules at jibcon or CE and I will not be sharing the audio clip. Jibcon officially has a no recording rule, which almost everyone in fandom ignores. Starfury is different.

[littleblackraincloudofcourse]

My thoughts on the lives and deaths of the House of Usher

Prospero - I almost feel sorry for Perry. His ideas weren't bad and unlike his siblings he was doing them himself. I also found it hilarious when he tried to fuck his brother wife. If nothing else that kid had confidence. Fredrick was dick to both of them anyway and she deserved to have fun. If you remove the blackmail and acid rain and that would have been one hell of a party.If Perry hadn't been planning to blackmail everyone he wouldn't have deserved his death. But his death was EXQUISITE. Everything about that scene was so perfect I can't find words to describe it. Everyone involved in creating that scene deserves an award

Camille - We actually got to know very little about her. Her whole story was about finding dirty on the others and managing crisis for the family. Even her death isn't shown. I think the point was that she never got to just be. She lived and died for others but never connected with anyone.

Napoleon - Leo was to me the closest to likable of any of the siblings. He clearly loved them and that may have been the only love he way capable of. He certainly didn't love his boyfriend or anyone he had/was having sex with. He treated people like objects. His death is tricky to categorize. On one side what he did to Pluto was horrifying and anyone who treats animals that way deserves the same fate. But he never actually did any of those things. It was all hallucinations and illusions first from drugs then Verna. He was stressed and grieving and kept finding dead animals everywhere. I would be ready to smash walls in that situation too. He definitely didn't need to be a pet owner but I think his death should have been less torturous

Victorine - I wrote this one last because it was my favorite Poe story growing up and she played it beautifully. That slow steady decent into madness I should have hated this character most of all. Those poor chimps and who knows what other innocent creatures she killed with experiments she knew wouldn't work. Even with her father constantly pushing for progress she should have stopped. Verna gave her so many chances, she wasn't even there when Vic killed her girlfriend or herself. She could have stopped at any point. Yes she still would have died but it could have been painless and less tragic. T'Nia Miller's performance was so good that I actually felt sad for her in that final scene. At least until I thought of the chimps again.

Tamerlane - Knock off Madeleine. Where her sisters hid and guarded their personalities she never had one. Her entire existence was for appearances (hence the ridiculous amount of mirrors). Even when she tries to show emotion she couldn't look at the person she was talking to. Her death might have seemed the most passive but it was shoot beautifully. It was also the only thing she actively accomplished on her own.

Fredrick - Fuck you Frodrick. When his siblings said he was just like their father they didn't even realize how right they were. He might have been worse. His poor wife deserved so much better. I genuinely enjoyed watching the pendulum swinging towards him as he was paralyzed beneath it. I only wish there was more than one so he could feel more pain. He was so much a piece of shit Verna enjoyed killing him. Everyone else got warnings, chances to walk away and have peaceful deaths But this asshole, she knew he didn't deserve one. He got exactly what he deserved. Lying in a puddle of his own piss waiting to die. Seriously fuck that guy

Lenore - This sweet brave girl was the only good the Ushers ever brought into the world. So pure and good even Verna mourned having to take her. I loved that she got to know how much good she put into the world and how many lives she saved. Even knowing from the beginning she would die, it was still heartbreaking to see. At least it was painless and instant

Madeleine - She was cold and selfish but she was also usually right. I respect that even when making a deal with the devil she still had standards. She at least made sure not to have children incase. There is a bit of irony in the fact she didn't want to spend her life serving a man then chaining her destiny to her brother. Gave of serious twincest vibes that I am glad where not explored. Her death seemed a fair balance for her past and mirroring her mother's death brought everything full circle. She fell with the house of Usher. Also sapphire is a good color for her.

Roderick - Without doubt the worst of them all. He knowingly killed millions with his drug. He destroyed any shred of humanity in his children. Possibly worst of all, he knew the damage he was causing and who would have to pay for it but he didn't even blink. Being mentally tortured by his dead children was not enough. He deserved the worst death of all. I understand the poetry of him dying the same way his father did but I wish he suffered more.

[mousegirlheart]

hypo-allergenic? no no no, i said hypno-allergenic!

*begins swinging a pendulum*

you are getting veryyyyyy sneezeyyyyy...

[icallhimjoey]

Define Close

♥ ♥  Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader

Summary: What good are flatmates even, if they don't comfort you when you need it most? Or when you need it a normal amount? Or, you know, when you don't really need it, but just really want it?

CW / disclaimer: rpf, fem!reader, afab!reader, hurt/comfort i guess? idk we're sad a lot and joe cheers us up a lot, talk of period blood getting onto things

Author’s note: i need everyone to understand that there's no real plot going on here, it's just.... it's just vibes, i hope thats ok!

Wordcount: 3.4K

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five

You looked at your reflection and sighed deeply.

With your tummy sticking out more than usual, no matter how much you tried to suck it in, with your boobs feeling sore, and with your mood swinging like a pendulum in a hurricane, there really was no denying the monthly doom that resided in your lower stomach.

Obviously, the cramps accompanied by your uterine lining leaking out of you was plenty proof, but just in case that didn’t sell it, your jawline decided a few big spots would be just the thing to remind you of the fact that you were dealing with hormones. That you were a woman. One with a period.

It fucking sucked.

Painkillers helped a lot. Really dulled the sharpness of the cramps and the persistent ache in your lower back.

But they didn’t help the irritability. Or the complete lack of patience you harboured. Or the cravings. Or the need to drown yourself in oversized clothing.

Joe had noticed.

Oh, he had noticed.

He noticed the lead up to it as well, your PMS, but didn’t want to ask. Didn’t want to check if he was right, because asking if you were on your period after you snapped at him for something you wouldn’t have pointed out at any other time, was exactly what would get you to snap at him.

But then, when he wanted to throw on one of his hoodies, he noticed that the one he pulled out of his wardrobe wasn’t his.

You had the same one, just a size or two smaller. The women’s fit slightly different from his.

“Hey, I think this is–” Joe’d walked over and stopped in your doorway.

You were sat on your bed, one foot on the floor and the other pressed into the mattress as you put on the coziest pair of socks you owned.

“Yea, that’s mine.” Joe pointed right at you. “This one is yours.”

You looked at what Joe was holding, then down at your own frame, and you knew he was right.

“No, it’s not.”

But you weren’t going to admit that you might have mixed them up when you’d done laundry the other day. His was baggier. Easier to hide yourself away in. Large enough to curl your knees up into, if you wanted to.

And, you wanted to.

“Yes, it is, look,” Joe took hold of the hoodie in his hands by the shoulder seam, held it in front of him to show how short it was on him.

You didn’t care.

You weren’t going to take off the hoodie you were wearing just because Joe barged into your room with wild claims about you having made a mistake.

No.

You had.

But... no.

“Looks fine.” You said dryly, voice flat, facial expression completely neutral.

“Looks fine? What– oh, my God,” Joe huffed, and just to show how right he was, he moved his arms into the hoodie to put it on. “Can’t even get my shoulders in properly, see, watch this,” Joe made a show of stretching the fabric, pulled it over his head and pretended to get stuck a second.

When it was fully on, you saw how it was obviously not Joe’s fit.

Because that was your hoodie.

Made sense.

You just stared at him, both feet on the floor now, shoulders slumped, and Joe made a face, eyebrows raised high, as if to say, see?

Um.

Could Joe not read the room?

You said it looked fine.

When Joe didn’t budge after you just blankly stared at him a minute, you audibly sighed. Let it rumble in your throat to really make sure Joe understood what an absolute bitch he was being, and started taking an arm out of a sleeve to take it off.

Fine.

“No, you don’t–” Joe sighed, huffed a laugh, and you froze. “You don’t have to take it off, just, that one’s mine. Get it back to me later.”

And somehow, that just pissed you off even more.

“Well then why the fuck make such a fuss about it in the first place?” you raised your voice, brow furrowed deep, clearly annoyed. “My God, Joe,” you grumbled, sticking your arm back into the sleeve and getting up.

“All right,” Joe indignantly spat back, expression wild, clearly not all right with the way you were speaking to him.

You frowned at each other a second.

“What?” you snapped when he didn’t say anything.

Joe looked ridiculous in your hoodie. It had eaten up half the hem of his T-shirt underneath, exposing some of his bare stomach just above the waistband of his jeans.

“What?” Joe mocked you, high pitched voice and all, and you were sure it was meant to showcase your vile attitude and make you turn it down a notch.

It did the opposite.

“Thank you, Joe, for letting me borrow your clothes and not being a real dick about it,” Joe said pointedly, and then changed his facial expression into a wide grin that nearly squeezed his eyes shut and responded to himself with a much nicer, “Not a problem, you’re so welcome.”

You blankly stared at him once more, and then winced a little when you felt the faint sting of a cramp that managed to push through the painkillers you’d taken earlier.

You needed your hot water bottle.

“Thank you, Joe,” you spat at him, angrier than you meant it, and you were about to walk around him, to make your way out of your room.

But Joe blocked your path by moving to the side an inch, just enough to stop you in your stride.

He raised a well-meaning hand, was about to touch you on the arm or the shoulder, you didn’t know what he was going for, because you slapped it away before he could make contact. You used flappy hands that slapped his hand and arm several times. Made Joe flinch, duck into his shoulders and step aside.

The snort of laughter that startled out of him made you actually want to hurt him. You weren’t being funny.

“Are you being se–”

You used both hands to shove him, just for good purchase, making him lose balance and step back to catch himself. It felt a little like how you used to fight your brother as a teenager, big difference being that Joe wasn’t fighting back.

Joe called your name after you when you walked out.

“Leave me alone!” you called over your shoulder.

And you’d meant those words then. Felt a little like you were 16 again.

You were achy, and bloated, and in pain, and not in the mood for any of Joe’s usual goofy shit.

But regret came shortly after. Because you definitely weren’t 16 anymore.

You found your hot water bottle and filled it up with the hottest water your tap could manage. Shoved it into the kangaroo pocket of Joe’s hoodie and felt how your lack of patience for everything and everyone also meant you didn’t have any of yourself.

You didn’t actually want Joe to leave you alone.

And, had you had the patience, you would’ve moped around for a bit. Would’ve drowned in your own pride for ages, because normally, you were stubborn like that.

Not now though.

You didn’t hesitate to make your way back over to Joe’s room, where you found him in front of his wardrobe in his T-shirt. His bedroom was messy, clothes sort of... everywhere. Some on the floor, some piled up on a chair in the corner. Your hoodie laid discarded on his bed as he pulled another from a pile. Standing in his doorway, you just watched him and waited, and felt how your lip pulled into a sad pout all by itself.

Joe had put on his hoodie, one that actually fit him this time, before he even noticed you were there. When he did see you, he sighed at the look of you and then comically gave you a pout of his own as his head dropped to his shoulder.

Then you just looked at each other a second.

You could’ve easily said you were sorry for that bullshit you just pulled. This was the perfect moment.

And Joe would have easily accepted it too, you knew.

But you didn’t really have to say the words.

A lot of things went unsaid between the two of you.

And this was one of them.

“All right,” Joe said definitively, like he’d just decided something. He looked around, bent to pick up some clothes, and said, “Go on, I need to get this sorted. I’ll join you in a minute.”

There was no need to hide your smile.

Cat that got the cream.

If you hadn’t had hot water sloshing around in your pocket, you would’ve skipped over to the sofa.

You let yourself fall back into the corner of the L-shaped sofa and it was only about a minute later before Joe walked into the living area and closed the door of the hallway behind him.

“Do you want some tea?”

“Ooh, yes. Big mug, please.”

And whilst you scrolled through Netflix's new releases and asked which one’s Joe hadn’t seen yet, Joe put the kettle on and prepared two steaming mugs of builder’s tea, done exactly how you liked it.

This was the kind of stuff Sundays were made for, you thought.

You could do without the dull ache in your lower stomach, but the hot water bottle felt nice and comforting, and now you were going to watch a film with your flatmate. No doubt you’d have pizza for dinner later.

When Joe eventually joined you, he carefully put the mugs down on the coffee table and then turned to grab hold of your knees that he pushed aside.

“Move, this is my spot.”

If you were just going by his tone of voice, you could’ve been fooled he was being serious. His eyes gave him away, though.

“I was sitting there.”

Joe hadn’t even been close to the sofa all day, you thought, but... it worked.

It got you to laugh as you let yourself be shoved aside just enough for Joe to squeeze right into the corner, using his knees and elbows to make enough room for himself. Arguably, it was the best spot of the whole sofa, especially right in the centre of it, where you could feel the sofa cushions curve around your shoulders on both sides. Fighting over who got to sit there made sense.

Joe sat down, wormed himself into place, and it left you pressed into his side with your back, his shoulder digging into the area between your shoulder blades. You felt how he wiggled his bum as he settled before he let out a content sigh.

“So comfy. Are you comfy? I’m so comfy.”

Joe pushed harder into your upper back, and you gave a deadpan stare into space before you swore under your breath and tried to hit him, reaching for him over your shoulder. Playful this time, though. Joe was laughing, and so were you.

He caught your hand, which had no malicious intent, and helped you manoeuvre until you were both comfortable. You ended up with both legs swung over his lap, both tucked into the corner where even without a blanket covering you, it felt incredibly cosy. Joe let both his hands rest on your legs, one on a shin, the other just above a knee, and you took hold of one of his arms to hug, hand curling around a bicep.

“What’s this?” Joe saw a bit of rubber stick out from your pocket.

“Hot water bottle.” You answered, eyes not moving from the TV screen where you tried to read a bit of information on a film you thought looked interesting.

Joe frowned at it.

“Are you cold?”

“No,”

Then Joe frowned at you, stared at the side of your face.

“Just in pain.”

He only hesitated for a second, because ten minutes ago he was afraid to say anything, knew it would’ve likely made you attempt to give him an actual black eye then, but this felt like the moment he was allowed to bring it up.

“Are you on your period?” Joe asked quietly, voice soft and serious, but it made you huff a laugh anyway.

“What gave it away?”

You were well aware of how ridiculous you were behaving. But instead of making fun, Joe turned soft. Asked if you had taken any painkillers. If there was anything else you needed to feel better. If pressing his elbow into the hot water bottle a little, to give it some pressure, helped.

You ended up choosing a film neither of you had ever heard of, and after Joe nearly let you drop onto the floor as he sat up to get the mugs of tea, you settled in properly.

Everything was so warm.

The tea was warm, the heat coming from inside of your pocket was warm, and Joe was warm.

About twenty minutes in, Joe carefully took the empty mug from your hand and chuckled lowly.

“Are you falling asleep already?”

“No.”

You absolutely were. Your eyes were still open though, just slightly drooped and blinking slowly, but you were still watching TV.

You weren’t really following what was happening though, weren’t really watching. This was something that tended to happen when you put on a film that was more something of Joe’s liking, rather than yours.

“I’m not even tired.”

A lie.

Joe didn’t fight you on it though.

Instead, you felt how he turned to you a little before a hand snuck under, into your your hoodie and found burning hot skin, the soft flesh of your lower stomach. When you didn’t flinch at his touch, Joe softly pressed his fingers in and started rubbing side to side.

“Does that help?”

“Mhmm,”

It did.

Joe was a good flatmate.

His soft kindness kind of made you want to cry a little.

The fact that none of your ex-boyfriends had ever been like this angered you to no end. It had always just been mocking jokes and complaints, always stupid comments on how they couldn’t go near you for a week now. You didn’t know how that was your fault, exactly, but it always got treated as such.

It probably took about five more minutes before you’d dozed off completely.

Wasn’t your fault that Joe made everything so nice and comfortable, all warm and nice. You’d argue that the rubbing of your stomach Joe was doing, he solely did to make you fall asleep in the first place.

Which was exactly right.

Joe loved it when you fell asleep on him.

Loved the soft and gentle touches he got to give that made you hum with satisfaction.

Loved that somehow this was just what you did without it being weird. Well it was weird, but only in the best way. Weird without the need to discuss anything, without the need to have an awkward chat about what any of it meant.

It didn’t mean anything. Not in the sense people would probably assume if they knew that you spent your time together like this a lot. But it also didn't mean nothing.

Joe knew it meant something.

To him it did, anyway.

Just... something to be determined later. Or maybe even never. He wasn’t sure.

What he was sure about, was that he fucking loved it. Couldn’t get enough of it.

He could’ve just woken up from the longest sleep of his life, have the energy to power through several days without issue, but having you curl up all pressed into his side? You’d fall asleep so easily, and then what chance did Joe even stand? It would leave him just as drowsy. Nine times out of ten, he’d slowly drift off too.

Which is exactly what happened this time as well.

Your slow rhythmic breathing linked up, two lax bodies sagged into one another for at least a good hour, hour and a half. When you did finally stir awake, it was to the end credits of the film and to cramps that felt like something was quite literally trying to eat you alive.

You groaned at the pain and pushed your forehead into Joe’s arm, muscles tensed, coaxing you to double over.

Joe awoke with a sharp inhale.

“Hey,” he whispered. “You all right?”

“Fine,” you croaked softly, voice a little strained.

You were fine, you know, in the grand scheme of things. Just something you had to deal with in the moment, that you knew would pass within a day. Mostly, it was just very annoying.

“Need the toilet.” you frowned as you struggled taking the now cooled hot water bottle out of the large pocket of Joe’s hoodie and let your legs slide down Joe’s lap until your feet touched the floor.

Joe sat up too, and groaned loudly as he stretched in an attempt to wake up a little more. He blinked a few times before he yawned and watched you disappear into the hallway in his hoodie.

He decided then that he was never going to make an issue of it again. You could wear anything from inside his wardrobe, and he’d make sure to keep his mouth shut. He didn’t even really know why he brought it up earlier in the way that he had done.

You made your way to your own bathroom, your ensuite, where you kept all of your tampons. When you sat down on the toilet, you saw how you’d fully bled through... well, through everything.

“Oh noo,” you called out, loudly, so Joe could hear.

“What?”

“Did I bleed onto the sofa?”

The question echoed through your flat, and you only realised after the words had already reached Joe’s ears that you probably should have been embarrassed to even ask.

You realised then that you weren’t.

Which was weird. But, weird in the best way.

“Yea, a little,” Joe called back, and you made a frustrated noise. Getting period blood onto anything was sort of gross and annoying, but onto a light coloured sofa that was difficult to clean? The most gross and annoying.

That was likely going to stain, and then, from now until forever, you’d see that stain every time you’d sit down and you’d be reminded of that one time when you bled through all your clothes.

When you’d have people over, they’d see.

When Joe had people over, they’d see.

Mortified.

You were more embarrassed for anyone else to see a faint period blood stain than you were for Joe to see a fresh one.

Wild.

You hurried through cleaning yourself up. Found new underwear and leggings to wear. Double checked if Joe’s hoodie was fine, which, thank fuck, it was.

“Sorry, I know that’s so disgusting, I’ll clean that–”

“It’s gone.”

You walked in and saw Joe stand up straight from a hunched position, damp dishcloth in hand.

“There was barely anything there, it’s fine.”

Joe bent down again and gave it another rub.

You just... stood there.

Blinking.

Staring.

“You... you cleaned it?”

“Yea, sofa looks fine. Wet now, though.”

“You cleaned my period blood...” emphasis on the period blood.

Joe looked up, made eye-contact and slowly grinned at your facial expression. Then he shrugged. He didn’t think this had to be a big deal, because to him, it wasn’t.

You were flatmates.

You lived in each other’s flat.

Shared a living space.

Were close.

“Yea.” Joe said all casual as he made his way back to the kitchen, presumably to wash the dishcloth in the sink.

“No worries. Should we get a pizza?”

You confiscated it when he walked past you, though.

He wasn’t going to rinse out your bodily fluids, your vaginal fluids, in the kitchen sink.

That’s where you prepared food, for fuck’s sake.

That dishcloth was going straight into the laundry.

“You’re insane.” was all you could muster up in response to what you’d just witnessed, and Joe just laughed. Didn’t think he was being insane at all. Thought you wouldn’t shy away from cleaning his blood off of furniture if he got some on anything, so why would he be weird about cleaning yours?

You were close.

And sure, ask literally anyone else, and this would definitely be classified as weird.

But, Joe was all right with weird.

Because it was weird in the best way.

---

The Taglisted

@ali-in-w0nderland, @alwayslindie, @babybluebex, @bylermaxmayfield, @capricornrisingsstuff, @chaoticgood-munson, @choke-me-eddie, @demonsanddemogorgons, @did-it-work, @dirtyeddietini, @djoseph-quinn, @dolcevit4, @eddies-puppet, @emma77645, @emotionaldreamer, @everythinghasafacee, @figmentofquinn, @ghost-proofbaby, @ghostinthebackofyourhead, @hanahkatexo, @harringtonfan4, @jewellethief, @joesquinns, @keikoraven, @kennedy-brooke, @lovelyblueness, @manda-panda-monium, @mexicanfolklore, @miserybeans, @munson-mjstan, @nadixq, @nglharry, @notverywise, @pepperstories, @phyllosilicate-s, @royale1803, @sherrylyn628, @sidthedollface2, @songforeddiemunson, @sweetberry47, @take-everything-you-can, @thebellenouvelle, @tlclick73, @werepartnersnow, @winterwakesthewolf, @witchwolflea, @yelyahcardella, @yunirgo

taglist currently full, sorry

[borderlinebelle]

🗣️🧠

Has anyone ever taken a stimulant for ADHD and it cured your manic mess but simultaneously erased your creative joyful childlike wonder at the world and your interest in the people you share it with?

💊

Am I cured or broken indefinitely to better suit “adulthood”?

🙃

As I wade through the vibrant and manic mess that was the BEFORE STIMULANTS and I look out onto the starkly dull and muted tones of the AFTERS STIMULANTS… the pendulum swings and I violently and obediently bend with it.

🫡

I can balance my budget now. Proficient in punctuality and productivity. Finishing work projects that used to take weeks? EASY. Calculating and efficient, I am almost unemotional as I smash through barriers that once kept me at a stand still for weeks.

🥇

The counter balance to these super abilities is glaring:

👀

1. I find it difficult to produce an ounce of creativity.

2. I am colder, more calculating.

3. I find empathy over other people’s emotions a far off tingle of familiarity I reach for and only brush.

4. I find even accessing my own emotions to be difficult.

5. I find little pleasure from completing tasks just a dull and far off ✅ that reminds me of pleasure but has none of the organic material.

6. I lack spark behind my eyes.

🗣️🧠

In conclusion, the video I filmed for today’s YOUTUBE launch felt… soulless and lacking. It felt disingenuous. I wasn’t talking to YOU, my mental health friends. I was just … talking.

😪

TO BE BRUTALLY HONEST: I’m unsure how to proceed with the channel, with my content… with my identity outside of MANIC PIXIE DREAM GIRL … I feel really really defeated if I’m honest. I’ve spent my entire adult life in survival mode and for the first time, on this new medication, I can see dozens of strategies to LEAVE SURVIVAL and CHASE AFTER THRIVE… but I didn’t think it would COST ME… my personality, my creativity, my identity.

🔎🤷🏽‍♀️

Idk but, I guess .. that’s the way with these things. Mental health, medication, stabilization…

🫥

Mental health isn’t “pretty and punctual” so said my producer tonight. It can ALSO be “imperfect and valuable”. Nothing is a perfect science, everyone is just doing their best I guess.

😮‍💨

Fighting your own brain 🧠 daily, hourly, weekly, monthly, yearly is exhausting work. I’m so deeply proud of everyone out there choosing to fight another day. I hope to continue being as brave and resilient as you all are.

🫣

It’s 12:00am. I’ve officially missed the “NEW VIDEO EVERY SUNDAY” standard I set for myself and I have to admit I’m taking it very poorly and I feel pretty defeated, but I had to come let the few who support my cross platform… that I’m sorry I couldn’t get there today.

🫀

Returning to YouTube after being run off by a parasocial making very real threats years ago, has been a delicious dream of mine for so long.

💭

I just deactivated both my Instagram and Facebook as they were both just reminding me of this missed deadline, of this empty channel, of what feels like a failure. In the age of comparison and competition, TO BE A HUMAN IS NOT EASY.

😬

So I’ll regroup, recoup, lean into coping mechanisms, touch base with my therapist + psychiatrist… and keep trying to find a way through.

💙

Thank you for your interest in my content.

🥸

I appreciate you deeply.

🫶🏽

I anticipate that this hopefully … won’t be the end.

🖊️ xoxo borderlinebelle

[lsargeantsgirl]

Style

pairing: logan sargeant x russell!reader; george russell x sister!reader

word count: 606

summary: your annoying brother, george, lies to your mom so you sneak out to your secret boyfriend who is also george's best friend, logan.

based on 'style' by taylor swift

---

midnight

"why do you always take his side?" you yelled at your mom as she defended your brother.

"he said that you broke the urn."

"he lied. open your eyes and see that i didn't break it!"

your brother had told your mom that you had broken the urn that held the ashes of your great-great-grandma. he was the one who had broken it when his friends from school were over.

"y/n, don't you dare speak to me like that. you're grounded, give me your keys. go to your room."

you turned around a grabbed your keys and threw them at your brother.

"you happy? all you wanted was my car so you just had to get me in trouble. you should be proud of yourself," after saying that you ran up to your room.

you come and pick me up, no headlights

you pulled out your phone and texted your secret boyfriend, logan. yes, he was your brother's best friend but neither of you cared.

texts (are in bold)

you- logie, can you come pick me up?

logan- yeah, like usual?

you- yeah, txt when u get here.

texts end

you fell back onto your bed as tears started falling from your eyes. flipping, a sob racked your frame. your brother, even though he was the favorite, had always tried to take the thing that you liked or always used. once he spun up a story that you had 'hit' him and he got your sweet sixteen party cancelled. explaining that to your friends was so humiliating.

logan- i'm here

you got off your bed, silently opened your window, grabbed the rope you kept on the tree. the rope was fastened to a sturdy part of the tree. you secured your grip on the rope and stepped off the edge as you brought your feet up. the rope would swing you as a pendulum until it stopped. you dropped to the ground.

you snuck through the gate to the backyard and around the neighbors car. logan, as predicted, was parked behind your neighbor's car that was at the curb.

"hey, babe, are you okay?" logan asked once he could see the tear trails down your face.

long drive

"i'm okay, just drive please," you said as you sniffled.

he pulled out from the curb and took you to the place that brought you the most peace. it was a secluded area on the river nene. he leads you to the bench overlooking the river.

"no matter what, i love you," he whispered as he tucked you under his arm.

"i love you too logiebear,"

"now tell me what made you cry."

"you know," you started, "george being mom and dad's favorite."

"what did he do?"

"broke mom's urn that had her great grandma in it"

"wow, that fucker, and he blamed that on you?"

"yeah"

logan turned to face you. he moved you to be as close as you could to him.

"no matter what he does, what he says, i will love you for the rest of my life. i want to grow old with you, have children with you," he wiped the tears, you smiled. "i only want you in this world."

he reaches into his pocket to pull out a small box. "i know we're not ready but this is like a promise ring but a necklace."

"baby," you breathed.

"i promise to marry you one day, as long as you let me," he said as he put it around your neck.

"logan, i want to marry you too," you whispered.

"good." he says as he, gently but passionately, kisses you.

[cottonlemonade]

When He Babysits His Niece

word count: 1278 || avg. reading time: 5 mins.

pairing: post-time skip!Atsumu x chubby!Reader

genre: fluff

warnings: a whisper of spoilers

synopsis: Atsumu finally has the opportunity to hit on you

____________________________________________

The Official Version of Events

You stood in line waiting for your turn. It was a pleasant midsummer afternoon and your usual way home brought you through a little park. Children were yelling and laughing as they zipped in and out of couples going for a stroll or people walking their dogs.

A playful breeze tugged at your hair when the elderly woman manning the dorayaki cart told you she‘d have to prepare a new batch and it would take a moment. As the batter sizzled away on the hot stove you fished your phone out of your pocket.

With your mind on the movie night you had planned with your friends that evening, you checked the takeout menus of your usual places to see what you could be in the mood for when suddenly a little black haired blur in a pink tutu over jeans wooshed by and hid behind you, giggling wildly.

"Uhm, hi.", you said, uncertainly.

The little girl gave a tiny bow, said "Hello.", before grabbing another handful of jacket and hiding her face in the folds.

You scanned the people nearby, trying to make out someone who belonged to the child.

"Where are your mom and dad?"

"Kobe."

Well, that might present a problem. This was Osaka.

"Did you come with friends?"

The little girl shook her head at this absurd idea.

"No, my uncle."

"Kaidaaa!"

A young man, visibly distressed, jogged along the path, craning his neck left and right, calling the name over and over.

The girl, obviously “Kaidaaa”, giggled again and hid around the corner of the cart, her bright blue sneakers still very visible.

You waved the young man over, pointing subtly to the mischief maker.

When he reached you, he doubled over, catching his breath and with the most relieved expression you had ever seen on a person he just said, "Ya take Hide and Seek way too seriously."

"Yer just real bad at playin‘.", the little girl said matter of factly and with an added shrug bit into a steaming red bean bun the cart lady must have snuck to her. You pressed your lips together to stop yourself from laughing at the man's offended look.

“I really like your tutu.“, you said to make conversation and Kaida smoothed it out proudly.

“It‘s for my birthday.“

“Oh, it‘s your birthday?“

“No.“ Wow, this girl gave anyone a run for their money. “My birthday was last week, but uncle couldn‘t be there so we celebrate this weekend.“

“Ah, I see. That‘s very nice of him.“ The guy gave you a half smile, obviously very satisfied with himself.

“He got me a scooter!“, she told you excitedly, “And the wheels glow in the dark!“

“That‘s so cool!“

“Well, I wanted to getcha a pony“, her uncle said, picking his niece up like a cat and dangling her in front of him, feet swinging like a pendulum while she still nibbled on the rest of her dorayaki, “but yer dad said something about that being impractical.“

Uncle and niece made a tsk sound and said “so lame“ in unison. It was obviously a thing between the two of them.

“How many did you want, dearie?“, the elderly lady asked while she generously spread the thick dark red paste between two fluffy pancakes.

“Five, please.“, you said, then quickly raised your hands and added, “They‘re not all for me! I‘m having some friends over later.“

The guy set down his niece. “Too bad.“, he said with that half smirk again, “I was gonna ask if ya wanted to join us for some ice cream.“

You felt your heart do a little flip at the prospect. You couldn‘t remember the last time you got flirted with, let alone by anyone nearly as handsome as him.

When the lady handed you the paperbag with the pastries the guy said, “Ya think, I could get yer number? We could get some ice cream tomorrow?“

His niece got very bouncy at the idea and put her hands together in a plea, giving you the biggest puppy dog eyes.

“Please excuse her.“, the guy said, putting his large hand on her face and pushing her gently behind him which she found hilarious, “She doesn‘t get fed anything otherwise.“

You laughed and after a second thought nodded. Once you put your number into his phone and paid the lady, you waved goodbye to the both of them, grinning from ear to ear.

As you walked off you heard her ask, “Did I do good?“ and when you turned around he quickly swooped her up around the middle and carried her away as if she didn‘t weigh more than a pillow, calling over his shoulder, “I‘ll call ya later, byeeee!“

________________________

What actually happened:

“How come ya don‘t have a wife?“, Kaida asked as she linked a dandelion with a daisy, “Is it because yer hair looks funny?“

Atsumu stopped in the middle of braiding her ponytail.

“Oi, yer on real thin ice, pipsqueak.“, he said threateningly, his desired effect somewhat diminished a second later by of the flower crown she placed on his “funny lookin‘ hair“.

She crawled into his lap and posed for a silly selfie he immediately uploaded to his socials, joining the many - many - previous pictures just like this one.

Putting his phone away again he snuggled her closer and together they relaxed in the shade of a tree for a while. Then he suddenly perked up.

He watched you walk past them and get in line at a street cart a little further down the path.

This was perfect! For weeks he had been trying to get your attention! But no matter how cool and stoic he looked while stretching for his morning runs or how often he exposed his abs when pretending to wipe sweat off his face after a jog, you never noticed him. To be fair, he had gotten a bunch of other admirers this way but he had his eyes set on you so what did he care?

A plan quickly formed in his mind.

“Hey, Kai. Do me a favor?“

“No.“, she mumbled, curling up against his chest.

“Come on. Whaddaya want? Name yer price.“

“Can we order pizza for dinner?“

“I was gonna cook for ya, princess.“, he said with a definite pout in his voice.

“That‘s why I want pizza…“, Kai noted coldly.

He sighed. “Fine. Pizza.“

“And fries!“

“And fries.“, he muttered absently. Atsumu didn‘t take his eyes off you, all but biting his lips at how good your curves looked in those jeans. What he wouldn‘t give to put his head on your soft pudgy tummy after a long hard practice.

“Throw in some gummibears and ya‘ve got yerself a deal.“

They shook on it and Atsumu detailed his plan. She listened excitedly.

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> once you’re dating Atsumu slips Kaida snacks and money whenever she calls you “aunt”

> Osamu tells the story of the dorayaki cart at every family gathering and eventually at your wedding when he is making his toast as the best man

> Atsumu asked Kaida 100% to help him with his proposal

> Kaida is the flower girl at the wedding

> later she will loudly sigh how she so wishes for a little cousin since her parents don’t plan on giving her a sibling

(Atsumu: “YES, OF COURSE WE’LL GET YOU A COUSIN!”, you: “We’ll think about it.”, your husband: “So it’s a yes.”, You, laughing: “I’m thinking, Tsumu!”)

> he’ll “borrow” Kai even more often from then on to show you what a great dad he would be and eventually Kai gets her wish when you and Atsumu walk in at Christmas holding your twins

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a/n: thanks to @makkir0ll for spinning the post story headcanons out of control, so I just had to add some! 🌟