#I KNEW ALL THAT WAS COMING WHY DID THAT HURT SO BAD

[meameagirl]

Injury! -- Joe Burrow

Summary: Joe was away for a game and you couldn't go as he was gone you got hurt. You was freaking out but also worry to tell Joe as he at a game.

Word Count: 744

Slightly injury you, head injury, little blood , just Joe worry and fluffy

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Joe was at an away game and You had gone to a store to buy some decorations for their apartment. You just came back and set the bags on the table. You knew it was smart to wait for Joe to come home but You didn't want to wait another whole day for him to return. You start taking all the things you got and lay it out on the table. It was a little early to start putting Christmas things out but You couldn't help yourself.

You went to the garage to look for some nails and Joe’s hammer he kept here. Soon You find the hammer and nails and go back to the kitchen. You grab the Christmas Gnome and walk to the living room to put the nail in the wall and hang them up. Soon you walk back in the kitchen and grab the christmas garland and you glaze at the cabinet. “I should wait for him.” You told yourself but you being stubborn You don't listen.

You take your shoes off and only have socks on and climb on the counter and stand up on it. You look down. “Not too high I should be fine.” You said to yourself. You start putting the nail in the wall and grab the garland. You get on your tiptoes to hook the garland on the nail. When your foot slips off and you crash onto the floor head hitting the edge of the counter. You lightly groan, touch your head feeling wetness on your hand.

You start looking around feeling dizzy, slowly grab the counter to help you stand up. You grabbed a rag and got it wet with cold water. Press it on your head. You stay leaning on the counter with the rag on your head when your phone rings. You slowly dig it out your pocket seeing it was Jeo who was calling. “I swear he has super power and calls at the wrong time.” You softled said as you answered it.

You hear his voice didn't sound cheerful, must have had a bad game. “After that game I need your voice.” You swallow. He started to explain what happened but it was making your head hurt more so  you cut him off. “I did something stupid.” It got quiet on his end. Soon he says “What you did Y/N” You look up at the half hanging garland. “Might try to hang some garland in the kitchen and slip and hit my head.” You talk slowly. 

It got quiet again but you can hear he was getting up from the hotel bed. You hear him picking things up. Maybe his bag. “Joe?” Joe signs. “Didn't I tell you if you wanna hang something make sure I was home. So I can help so we can skip the whole injury park Y/N. Look, I'm on my way home. Clearly your stubborn ass doesn't understand when I talk. You're gonna listen now. Forget the damn garland and lay down just not flat.i be there in an hour or so.” You nodded even if he can’t see it. He hung up after.

This is why you hated that he called right after you fell. Were you gonna tell him no, maybe tomorrow when he was home. But that was so out of the bag. You knew it was better to listen to him and go lay down. You slowly walk to the couch and lay down on it. The rag lay on your head.

About an hour or two you hear the front getting unlocked and open. You hear his footsteps walk in. He puts his bag down and he walks over kneeling by the couch. He moved the rag. “Hey there, stubborn girl that I love.” You just groan and sit up. He helps you sit up, putting his hand on your back. “How your head darling” He asks as you lean your head on his shoulder. “Dizzy stops and the pain is not too bad.” Joe kisses your head lightly. “Maybe you learn your lesson and let me do the hanging when it comes to Christmas. Rather not have my girlfriend hurt over Christmas crap.” His arm wraps around you as you mumbles “good idea.” you snuggle against his body. And he gives you another kiss on your head. Getting hurt might have been a good thing, one Joe came home early and second the cuddles.

[aayakashii]

Some people asked me to make a pt.2 of collared with pegging and well. This is not it (⌐■-■) I just like to bully Leo, sorry... have the twink being tortured yet again 🫳 not really femdom content this time around like the 1st part BUT he still suffers (∗´艸`∗)

WARNINGS: this is a part 2 (?) to collared, so read that one first! This is smut and has explicit language, NSFT !!!!!!! Do not engage if it makes you uncomfortable <3

Leo grunted, fist wrapped tightly around his length as he leaned against the wall of his spacious bathroom. His tip was a furious red as he jerked his cock, desperately seeking a release that seemed far away, gritting his teeth at the frustration that washed over his body.

His hand stopped, and he gasped for air, chest heaving up and down and hair sticking to his forehead after exerting himself. He slammed his fist against the wall, furious.

He had been like that for weeks. Unable to relieve himself of his pent-up stress and unable to ignore the desire that kept on pooling in his core.

He had tried everything. Watching porn, using toys, hooking up with some students – but nothing worked. He would get so close, so fucking close but then his orgasm would ruin itself no matter what. It was like something was broken and he didn't know why.

Actually, Leo knew what might have caused it. But he also tried to avoid thinking about it at all costs.

He dry swallowed, throat bobbing up and down, as he waited for his heart rate to slow down and his breathing to even out.

Meanwhile, his mind raced, trying to find anything to think about, only to run away as fast as he could from those memories. He'd conjure up thoughts of old parties, old hookups, bad hangovers and mundane shit that didn’t matter at all, only to escape from unconsciously recollecting that day.

But the ghost of the sensations remained on his skin, on his nerves, on his cock.

His breathing got heavier again and he pushed himself away from the wall of his bathroom.

That was all futile. He needed some fresh air. With some luck, he could find some stupid student to bully and maybe get into a fight and just have someone rip the horny out of him through punches and kicks.

Yeah. That's what he needed.

Instead of following the flawless plan he had hurriedly concocted before leaving, however, Leo found himself in front of the old, beaten down Cathedral. He heard rumors of how it had been another dorm before, but now it only housed the stupid NPC.

Leo cursed under his breath.

Why the fuck did he find himself there? He had no business with you. He didn't want ANYTHING from you.

And yet, his gaze locked onto the only window that was open on that large building, with faint candlelight flickering inside.

You were right there. He knew that. And he fucking hated the way his mouth dried up and his heart picked up speed yet again.

God fucking damn it.

Wasn't your "revenge" something that should have happened only once? (Even though for the first days he kept waiting and waiting, sitting on pins and needles, for you to come back and show him how else you could fuck him).

If it was just that one forsaken moment, then why should he keep on being so fucking frustrated all the time, rubbing his thighs together in a futile attempt to ease the annoyance, all because he can't cum like before?

He groaned as he felt his cock stiffen once again as the memories of your hands roaming all over his body became, finally, inescapable.

Leo stepped out of the paveway and into the trees and bushes, still keeping his eyes locked at your window.

It wouldn't hurt to try and relieve himself right then and there, right? Just that one time. Just to get the edge off and then afterwards he would do anything in his power to erase the memories of that stupid fucking NPC making him feel pleasure that he had never felt before. Even if he had to create mesmer matches that worked only on him, just for that.

He palmed himself through his pants, breath faltering and labored as he felt how painfully hard he had become. All to the thought of you.

He felt pathetic.

And still, he pulled his pants down and leaned against a tree, trying to control the small moans that began spilling from his mouth.

Against his better judgment, however, Leo gave in to his curiosity.

"Haxs." He whispered through his sighs, and his half-lidded eyes immediately widened as he heard the telling sound of your labored breathing and the wet noises of your fingers thrusting deep inside yourself.

Leo's eyes rolled back as a strangled moan caught on his throat as soon as he realized you were masturbating just like he was. His hips jerked forward, hand wrapped tightly around his cock as he bit his other fist in order to muffle the sounds of his mewls.

He fucked his fist at the same pace of your moans, desperately trying to picture you with your legs spread open wide, shoving your fingers deep inside your pussy in order to teach him how he should fuck you – just like you taught him things he wouldn't ever forget the last time.

Leo was too caught up in his fantasies and the sensation of finally – Finally! – being able to quench that awful thirst, that the next sound you made caught him completely off guard.

As you reached your own peak, your mewls and whines grew louder and, in your orgasm, you moaned another ghoul's name.

His hips stuttered and he thrusted one last time, his release gushing out of him in thick ropes before he could even notice. A loud whine ripping out of his throat without restraint.

He panted, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes due to the wave of pleasure he so desperately seeked finally washing over him.

But his eyes were sharp, glaring towards the only lit window in the Cathedral.

You fucking moaned someone else's name.

Leo inhaled deeply, trying to keep the confusing swirl of emotions at bay, blinking fast in order to get clear headed quickly.

What the actual fuck.

So you liked someone else? Apparently yes, since you fucking came with someone else's name on your lips.

What was all that happened between you two then? Did you REALLY just want to fuck with him as a punishment?

... Nah, he didn't believe that. Not when he could so clearly remember the way your eyes ran all over his body and how you looked like you would devour him at any given moment.

He would know.

Every single time he closed his eyes, he could still picture you hovering over him, touching him, praising him.

So why the fuck were you touching yourself to the thought of some other fucking ghoul?

Why not him? Why weren't you thinking of him while you masturbated, when he could only cum to the thought and sounds of you after you completely ruined him?

Were you really not as affected by all that as he was? Was he the only stupid moron that really couldn't even jack off properly if he didn't have you around somehow?

Leo bit his lip, brows furrowing as he felt his chest tightening. He haphazardly wiped his hands on the grass below him, and buttoned his pants.

Was this the actual punishment you were talking about?

Leo felt his throat close painfully and the back of his eyes sting as furious tears threatened to pool on his eyes.

He stumbled on his way back towards Vagastrom, confused despite the clarity brought by his orgasm, and, much to his dismay, feeling a type of hurt deep inside his chest that he had always thought was pathetic.

Leo felt discarded, like trash, for the first time in his life.

Kudos to you for flipping the script on him so perfectly without even trying.

But not to worry. When it came to cruelty and breaking hearts, he would always get first place.

He just had to think.

[theunholybastard]

Bad Day (Papa Emeritus IV x Gender-Neutral!Reader)

Requested by @ollies-station !!! <3

Tags: Fluff, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Reader Is Hinted Trans But It's Pretty Vague, Mentions Of Body Dysmorphia/Dysphoria, 2nd Person POV

Copia hovered over you, paints smudged and halfway wiped off. He stopped in the middle of washing his face when he noticed something wasn't right with you. You lay face down in the bed, unmoving, just so done with life.

"Eh... t-tesoro, what's wrong?" Copia asks warily, head tilted like a confused puppy, eyes darting around the room awkwardly. He was never very good at comforting people. But you were the love of his life, how could he not at least try to be of help? He just can't stand to see you like this.

"Everything." You reply hoarsely, muffled by the pillow you were crying into earlier. You were hardly exaggerating, everything seemed to be going wrong and sending you further down a spiral. Not to mention, you've not been very kind to yourself today either. When you first woke up, things immediately felt off. You felt off. Looking into the mirror, you instantly felt dread, like something wasn't quite right with you. Deep rooted insecurities bubbled up to the surface, your body not feeling like your own. You just want the day to be over already, but every passing moment feels like eternity.

"Bad day, huh?" Copia sighs, sitting down on the bed with you, mindful to give you a little bit of space if you needed it. You finally lift your head up, and the sight makes Copias heart ache. Red, puffy face, tear stains down your cheeks, hair tussled and greasy. You hadn't even gotten a chance to shower that morning, notably the first sign today wasn't going to be all that great. You probably looked like a hot mess right now, but to Copia, you were the most beautifully ethereal being he'd ever laid his eyes on, no matter what state you were in.

"Is there anything I can do?" Copia asks concernedly, softly stroking your back with a gloved hand. "Do you want to talk about it? It might make you feel better."

"Maybe... But there's still so much stuff I have to do today-"

"Non importante. Whatever needs to get done today, I will do it for you. You've had enough stress put on you today, now it's time for you to relax. Now, tell your Papa what is wrong, okie dokie?"

You couldn't help yourself, airing out all your grievances to him. You spared no details, every little thing that went wrong and every little worry you had was brought to his attention, and he listened intently to every word. That was the one thing he's always been very good at. Listening. And he was right, it did make you feel a little better, especially with how earnest you could tell he was.

When it was all said and done, he said nothing at first, simply holding you close to his chest, his warmth and sweet smell of cologne quickly lulling you into a sense of security and comfort. You knew you always had a safe space with him.

"Bad days come and go, amore. You must keep in mind that this won't last forever. The good days will come back sooner than you think. And yes, maybe they will fleet sooner than you want them to as well, but the important thing is that they will come again. Look outside, tesoro..." You did as you were told, gazing out the window to see the sun slowly setting over the horizon.

"The day is almost over, you see? And tomorrow is a new day. A better day. Why don't you sit here for a moment and focus on that while I run you a nice relaxing bath, hm? I'll quickly run whatever errands you have left today, and after that I'll order some takeout for the two of us, how's that sound? I'll get you whatever you want."

"And... And can we maybe watch something after? And cuddle?" You sniffle. A comfort show would be great right now. He smiles. "Of course! Anything for my baby." He presses a chaste kiss to your forehead, pulling away to get up and do the tasks he promised. You quickly grab the lapels of his jacket, keeping him from leaving you so soon.

"Copia... You know you don't have to do this, right? I'll be fine, really." You murmur, self conscious and worried that you're asking too much of this sweet, perfect man you've somehow managed to claim as yours. He chuckled.

"I know, amore; I want to. I want to make you happy, I want to make things easier for you. Because I love you. Because you deserve that. Capisci?" He says, a gentle firmness in his soft-spoken voice. Hesitantly, you nod. Still, you don't let go of his jacket just yet.

"Could you stay with me for just a little while longer?" You ask, hopeful and bleary eyed. He grins.

"As long as you need, tesoro."

-

[ratcash-wasgud]

Lmao hey arcane fandom

I'm going to spew my two cents and try to get yall to see why I will defend Cait with my WHOLE LIFE IF NEEDED

I love Vi too btw, don't get me wrong, they both need their foreheads kissed

EDIT: Also, I'm gonna put this here since ppl thought othervise: This is not a post against Vi, she's my goat, she needs to retire from bad shit happening to her. This is a post defending Cait, since she's the character getting the most hate rn, and I will defend basically every arcane character with my whole chest (exepct Heimerdinger, fuck that hoe)

Spoilers

Ok, let me start with the whole breakup scene and the things that led to it, since that's basically one of the biggest points in this argument. I'm going to be honest, I kinda feel like Vi was a little af fault there. Because now, because Caitlyn couldn't kill Jinx, even when she could've, she will have to do the whole hunt again. AGAIN. And we know Cait is only hurting Zaun because she WILL comb through an entire city just to find Jinx, and nothing else. She doesn't hate the people of Zaun. And it could've stopped at that one incident with the grey IF she killed Jinx. But she didn't, because Vi stopped her. Again.

And let me tell you, if I went through all that shit, WITH the support of my bae, just to be stopped at the last moment I'd be pissed too.

"Oh, but Caitlyn didn't care if she accidentally killed the kid," let me remind yall of that moment when Jayce accidently killed a kid in season one with the hextech weapons, and wanted to stop using them, but Vi was like, "hey, it happens a bunch here, let's not stop using these things for fighting!" And literally said "He knew what he was signing up for." But now she suddenly cares about one kid? Plus what's the chance of Cait ACTUALLY missing? And even if she did, and killed Isha...Jinx killed multiple people yall, probably even kids (including her brothers) but yall love her (me too but that's besides the point).

Cait is now driven by revenge. And let's not pretend we didn't see this change coming. The whole bullet board thing she had on the floor in season one, the dedication to free a random prisoner just to get clues about Silco...she was always dedicated to her craft. And the raige started to appear in her even in the final episode, where she got KIDNAPPED BY JINX, let me remind yall, and she had to literally free herself. Just imagine how traumatic that shit was for her. Then, when she could've shot her abductor, her bae stops her, letting Jinx slip away and go on to kill her mother. But, she's still not blaming Vi, and wants her on her team, just to be stopped at the last moment again.

Next thing is the fact that she becomes a dictator...well, she could've said no when Ambessa said her name, right? Yeah, no. That's not how it works. She couldn't have been like "yeah, no, I don't wanna do allat, I'm still kinda liking the enemy after they keep attacking us, so ima pass on this one", for some reason. Ambessa literally made sure that she can't pass this up. Plus she caught her almost right after she returned from Zaun, and leaving Vi. She was in a vulnerable, revenge hungry state.

Ok, yap session over, I'm writing this at 1 am, and I have work tomorrow at 6, so I'm cooked, but Cait Cait Cait Cait Cait Cait Cait

[alwaysthefool]

Dressed Up Treachery (x Sylus)

Warnings: none

Tags: f! Reader (pro trans blog), MC Reader

Synopsis: Sylus gets jealous and that’s never a good thing

You were in another room, getting ready for an event with a dress you picked out yourself. An off shoulder silk bell strap with the fabric reaching your ankles, dyed in soft colours and embellished beautifully, however needing to be zipped up from behind. You tried to reach it, but failed, eventually looking for your phone to ask Sylus to come help you, soon realising you left it in his room.

You groaned, holding up your dress on your chest with your hands, lightly taking footsteps to Sylus’ room. Before you could knock, you heard someone clear their throat behind you.

You looked back to see Luke, or perhaps Kieran, with a box of cufflinks for Sylus in his hand. “Oh, thank god you’re here.” You chimed. “Help me zip up my dress.”

“Uh…” The voice seemed like it belonged to Luke. “Are you sure boss won’t get mad at me?”

“What? That’s so silly.” You laughed. It was truly a small thing. You just needed help with a zipper. Luke gulped, setting the box on the table beside the door, and soon you felt a gloved hand lightly push your hair on your shoulder, and zip you up.

“I’ll give him these, thanks!” You said, referring to the cufflinks. Luke took a bow, and almost sprinted away. You picked up the box and knocked on his door, hearing a cold ‘come in’. You lightly came inside, seeing Sylus in front of the wall mirror, fixing his tie. Thankfully, it wasn’t positioned in such a way that you were visible, so you tried to sneak up on him.

“Terrible habit, kitten.” Sylus sighed, turning around to face you, his face breaking into a smile when he saw you dressed up. “You look beautiful.”

“Thanks.” You feel heat rush up to your cheeks when you noticed Sylus wasn’t looking away from you. You shied away, handing him the box. “Your cufflinks.”

“Help me put them on?” Sylus asked, opening the box and taking them out. You clumsily took the cufflinks, and his large hands, taking your time with it, discarding the box on his vanity. You could tell his red eyes were still on you and that made you a little conscious. “Stop staring.”

“Do you really expect me not to? Such a pretty girl, and she’s all-“ Sylus stopped for some reason. You were almost done with his cufflinks, so you looked up at his frowning expression.

“Kitten, why do you have my cufflinks in the first place?”

“Oh. I needed help with zipping up my dress, so I came to you. But Luke— well, at least I think it was Luke— was outside so I asked him to do it!” You spoke non chalantly, finally finishing up. You expected Sylus to nod in understanding and move on, but something was suddenly off about him. He looked irritated.

“You what?”

Sylus was not looking pleased, to say the least. His eyes bore into you, accusatory and hurt, as if demanding an explanation. It almost reminded you of someone else you knew. Your relationship with Sylus was inexplicable, something between business partners and actual partners, but you never actually addressed it. He’d never said it out loud, but the way he held you, looked at you, spoke of you, made everything confusing. He acted as if the two of you already belonged to each other without even a single moment that confirmed it.

Maybe this was it.

“It’s just a dress.” You rolled your eyes, stepping away to sit on the bed, but he held you back gently by your waist, making sure not to touch your skin. You looked up at him, upset yourself, thinking you did something wrong.

Sylus sighed, trying to appear less annoyed once he saw that look. “Next time, only ask me for things like this.”

You were about to say something to protest, but he continued. “Things like zipping up your dress, helping you put your heels on, braiding your hair… leave them to me, please.”

“Why?” You pushed, defying him still. You felt bad, he was being patient and gentle, but you wanted some clarity in that matter. You pulled away from him to sit down on his bed, playing with the pearls on the skirt of the dress.

“Because.” Sylus seemed to lose his patience as he moved to tower over you, his hands on either side of you. “These small moments with you are precious to me. I want all of them. I want them, and I want you,” He moved closer, his lips next to your ear, his hair tickling your cheek, “all to myself.”

There was none of that usual snark or teasing in his voice, it was just a pure, possessive, pleading tone. You wanted him to be more explicit, but only managed to let out a ‘mhm’ as he got off you, a pat on your head.

So that’s the definition you held on to, and the fact he wouldn’t take his hand off you for the rest of the evening, asking you your views on everything, making sure you didn’t drink too much, treating you with care and affection like never before. You could only lean into him, and accept all of it shamelessly, not even thinking about the eyes on you.

-x-

Bonus;

As you and Sylus retuned home, something felt amiss. “Hey, where’s Luke?” You asked Sylus, as Kieran took the keys to take the car into parking.

“He’s on clean-up duty.” You cringed hearing that. That was never a fun task.

“And for something he didn’t even do.” Kieran whispered to himself, stifling a laugh.

[hemlockfox]

Sorry I feel the need to respond to the idea that vase scene is good actually because everyone is flawed in it. I feel like there is something missing in this analysis, and it's that much of the problem with the scene lies less in the scene itself but more in how the scene and the characters' actions within it are followed up by the text.

How the scene plays out in the text is that Winter knocks over the vase while lashing his tail in anger when Moon says Darkstalker is his friend. Winter says that he's evil, Moon responds angrily herself that Winter said he would give Darkstalker a chance, at which point she realizes and Winter confirms that Darkstalker had brainwashed him. Qibli makes the "I'd brainwash you too" comment, says sorry immediately, and then when Winter "turned to Moon as if he was ready for her apology," she turns her back on him and begins picking up pieces of the vase. She, looking to Qibli and Kinkajou but not Winter, insists that Darkstalker only wants what's best for everyone. At which point Winter angrily reveals the Icewing plague. In surprise, she says "What", accidentally steps on a vase shard, and gets a small cut. Qibli rushes to her aid, remarks in the narration that if Winter loved her he shouldn't be yelling at her like this, and then confirms the plague. Anemone comes in with skyfire, winter makes a snide comment about Moon not knowing where she feels about Darkstalker, to which Moon respond sharply that she feels lied to, and then they split up. I'd like to note that when Moon decides to confront Darkstalker, what she initially says to Winter is "Please don't break anything else," before asking Qibli to come with her.

There are three things I'd like to draw attention to:

Moon's injury is small and it's not quite as simple as "Winter injures Moon". She has an accident which compounds on a thing Winter did seemingly on accident.

Moon is not being passively absorbing Winter shouting and making snide comments. She's responding in anger herself, pointedly ignoring him (and how he was personally violated by Darkstalker), and before she leaves to confront Darkstalker, she tells him not to break anything else like he's a petulant child who will wreck the room in anger as soon as he's unsupervised.

Qibli's internal monologue only notes Winter's treatment of Moon as bad

I'll come back to point one, but the other two are not bad, on paper they are good even within a reading of this scene where it is drawing out the flaws in each character present. If these flaws were to be followed up on and the group were to reconcile, and if Moon and Winter were to talk out why each of them were hurt by the argument it would be compelling. The reasons Moon was hurt are obvious, Winter shouts at her and refuses to consider her perspective, that she's been manipulated and didn't know any of this. Winter's aren't so obvious, but still present. Upon being told that Darkstalker had profoundly violated his autonomy, Moon doubles down on Darkstalker just wanting the best for everyone, tacitly implying what Qibli had just been wrong to say outright: that it was on some level justified to do that to Winter. When she learns of the failed genocide, she's expresses being upset about being lied to, but not any of the ways Winter was directly harmed.

And then the books only acknowledge how Moon was hurt by the argument. In the epilogue, it's made clear that Moon and Winter haven't seen each other in person in some time. Kinkajou tells Winter that he should come visit Moon and apologize to her for being mean, and he agrees and says that he knew after that scene that he had ruined any chance with her. At no point after the argument ends does anyone acknowledge that Winter had legitimate reasons to be upset, that Moon had acted passive-aggressively, that reconciliation would involve all of them acknowledging that they hadn't been at their best in that moment. Only that Winter had been mean, so he should say sorry. Every direct perspective on the argument paints Winter, and only Winter, as wrong in his argument with Moon.

And when you consider the vase with this knowledge, it's just silly. It feels like a thing that is there to make Winter seem meaner, Moon more victimized, and Qibli like a nice supportive guy who would be better for her.

The scene becomes ridiculous when put in the context of the rest of the book, because half of the interesting substance from the character's flaws ends up not mattering. Moon and Kinkajou never have their actions in this scene come up again. Qibli's flaws are instantly addressed so he can resolve them onscreen and complete his arc. Winter spends the rest of the book in the doghouse for it and his actions are used as justification for why he isn't right for Moon. In the context of the book, this scene exists to forward Qibli's arc and justify Moon choosing him, and it does both at Winter's expense. It doesn't matter if everyone's flaws are on display when the book is picking sides, and deciding who gets to gets to grow from this argument, who doesn't, and who doesn't need to.

People like to complain about the scene in the NightWing palace in Darkness of Dragons, but I think it's brilliant how the scene manages to bring out all four characters' (Moon, Winter, Qibli and Kinkajou) biggest flaws, and watch them play off one another.

I think it's pretty safe to say that Winter's biggest flaw is that he's hot-tempered--if you get him mad, he gets very confrontational, and that's what happens here. He gets very rightfully angry that Moon and the others are defending the dragon who took his autonomy and is trying to commit a genocide against his people, and he flies into a rage, eventually knocking over the vase and injuring Moon. I'm not tone-policing Winter here--he had every right to be furious, however in his anger, he hurt his friend. However, he's not the only person whose primary flaws are being brought to the surface here.

Since the very beginning, naivete has been among Moon's flaws, along with a desire to believe the best in people. This is compounded by her mind-reading abilities, as she has the expectation that she understands people. There's a telling moment in MR where Qibli asks her if she loses her faith in dragons since she can see their motivations and thoughts, and she tells him that she actually believes better of other dragons because she reads their thoughts. She's settled into a complacency in her belief that a) dragons are all good at heart and b) she's so used to seeing everything, that she doesn't really compute that people can be hiding things from her or that she doesn't have a full picture. You have to remember that as much as Winter was justified in his anger, Moon didn't know what was going on, because Darkstalker was deliberately hiding what he was doing from her so that she still believed in him. She's reeling from the knowledge that Darkstalker lied to her, broke promises and is trying to do horrible, horrible things, and to her credit, she comes around to understanding Darkstalker's villainy, she just manages to hit Winter's triggers as she does so.

And that brings us to Qibli and Kinkajou, who sided with Moon over Winter. Since the beginning, it's fair to say that Kinkajou has been established as very loyal and also not exactly known for her critical thinking skills, and back in MR, she tells Winter that although he's very handsome, if he hurts Moon, she'll take Moon's part. And Kinkajou does, because Moon's her friend and Winter's angry and she isn't thinking about what she's doing.

Now, it's no secret what Qibli's biggest character flaw--say it with me now--having to be the hero and be universally liked. Now by this point in DoD, Qibli is quite smitten with Moon (something he's competing with Winter over) and she's become the apex of his 'desire to be liked and perceived as A Hero'. So, it's his instinct that when Winter--Qibli's romantic rival--is getting angry and confrontational with Moon, is to side with her against Winter, so that he'll come off as the nice guy, and the hero (and this is coming from someone who is a Qibli fan who ships Moonbli, so I'm not trying to hate on your fave).

I think it's just really interesting to analyse how all of their individual character flaws came together and clashed, creating the conflict.

.

[cosyvelvetorchid]

I finally finished my fix-it fic.

Read on Ao3 or below 🩶

**********

Tommy walked towards his door; his body feeling heavy. Every movement his body had made in the roughly 48 hours since he’d broken up with Evan felt like he was fighting through a river of molasses.

He’d called Tommy a few times—each call ignored. He couldn’t speak to Evan; couldn’t hear his voice. He knew that hearing it he’d immediately begin to believe he’d made the wrong decision.

But it was the right decision. Evan didn’t feel that way now but he would.

Eventually.

But now there was knocking on his door. It was stupid, really, to think that Evan wouldn’t turn up at his house when his calls were being ignored. If there was one thing he knew about Evan it was that he was relentless when it came to someone he wanted.

Tommy stopped with his hand on the door knob and took a breath before he opened it. It wasn’t Evan.

“Eddie. I didn’t expect-“

Suddenly Tommy found himself standing 6 feet back with a searing pain radiating from his jaw to his right temple.

“What the fuck, Eddie?!” He yelled, rubbing his face.

“That was for breaking my best friends heart,” he said crossing the threshold into Tommys house. “And these-“ he held up a 6 pack of beer “-are for us while you talk.” He walked towards Tommys living room.

“Eddie, I don’t want-“

“It’s not a request Kinard.” He called back, sitting down on Tommy’s sofa. Tommy stood for a moment counting his teeth with his tongue to make sure he hadn’t lost any. When he was satisfied he still had the same number as before, he closed the door and followed Eddie into the living room.

Eddie held up an already opened bottle of beer which Tommy took and sat down on the other end of the sofa. Eddie sipped his own then turned his body to face Tommy.

“Talk.”

“What happened to you not playing interference? You were pretty dead set on that when Evan and I started dating.”

“That kind of goes out the window when your best friend is crying on your sofa.

Pain shot through Tommy’s heart. He’d known he’d hurt Evan, even if it was for the greater good, but he’d somehow convinced himself that Evan wouldn’t be affected too badly.

“I’m sorry.” He said. His voice was quiet; meek almost.

“Why did you do it? I thought things were good between you.”

“They were.”

“But you thought that they wouldn’t be?”

“I’ve been down this road before, Eddie—it always ends the same way.” He told Eddie.

“So you’re a psychic now?”

“I don’t need to be a psychic to know that someone so new to this, like Evan, would eventually realise that I’m not the man for him once the newness and excitement wears off.”

Eddie scoffed. “Wow. I can’t believe in 6 months you didn’t learn anything about Buck.” He shook his head.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Tommy asked. He knew plenty about Evan—he wasn’t exactly a secretive person. Every thought and feeling Evan had poured out of him with ease. It was actually something that Tommy was equally in awe and jealous of.

“We all joke about Buck being a golden retriever and a yapping over sharer, but that guy does nothing by halves. He’s all in with everything he does. He feels hard, and he’s not afraid to show it—good or bad. Does he rush into things sometimes? Sure. Does it often blow back in his face? Unfortunately. But it’s never stopped him putting his heart into everything he does, over and over again.”

Tommy knew all of this about Evan but that was part of the problem. At least, what he feared the problem would be in the future. Being all in sounds great on paper, and he couldn’t deny that it did feel wonderful having someone being in to him as much as Evan was. Is. But when you’re all in you ignore the problems in your relationship that will inevitably crop up and then eventually it would all come to a head and everyone gets their heart broken.

“I know, Eddie.”

“Do you?” He said, his tone clearly showing he didn’t believe Tommy.

“It was the right thing to do for him. He’ll see that eventually.”

“Bullshit.” Eddie snapped. “This was not about Buck—you broke up with him because you’re a coward.”

“Fuck you.” Tommy threw back immediately.

“Come on, man! You can lie to yourself all you want but we both know this is you being scared of your feelings for him.”

“Eddie-“

“Did I ever tell you about when Christopher was born?” Eddie interrupted.

“You were on tour, right?”

Eddie shook his head. “No, actually I’d finished my tour. I made it back for Christopher’s birth by the skin of my teeth. Shannon was literally about to start pushing when I walked in the room.” He said with a half laugh. “The first few days were a blur. We were so wrapped up in that new parent fog that nothing could have hurt us. But then they got released from the hospital and I took them home and it suddenly hit me—I was a father. It terrified the shit out of me. A week later I signed up for another tour.” He put down the empty beer bottle and opened up a new one.

“Shannon was pissed. And for the longest time I couldn’t understand why. I had a wife and a kid to support and sure I could have still stayed in the army and been home, but the bump in pay from being overseas would really help.” He sipped his beer and sighed. “And that’s what I spent the next two years telling myself. Two years of leaving Shannon alone to take care of a kid—a kid with a disability—I told myself that I was doing the right thing; providing for my family. But it took me coming home and Shannon leaving for me to realise that it wasn’t about providing—I was running away from the responsibility. I was scared of not being a good enough husband or father. And instead of doing the grown up thing and talking to my wife about it, I ran. The damage I did to our marriage, the hurt I caused Shannon.. those are things I will always regret.”

Tommy put his bottle down on the coffee table and ran his hands through his hair.

“Evan is.. I’ve never met anybody like him. He’s.. he’s incredible. He’s warm and kind and thoughtful and I.. don’t deserve someone like him.”

He wasn’t good enough. And that was the crux of the issue. His biggest fear was one day Evan would wake up and realise that Tommy was not the hero he put on a pedestal, but a 40 year old man with a lifetime of trauma. A stubborn and scared man who didn’t deserve someone’s reverence. Least of all someone as wonderful as Evan.

“Do you love him?”

“What?” Tommy said quickly turning to face him.

“It’s a simple question, Tommy.”

Tommy knew the answer. He hadn’t wanted to admit it to himself; most of the time trying to convince himself that what he was feeling was just infatuation. But god damn Eddie fucking Diaz coming over and forcing him to realise the truth.

He didn’t answer Eddie, just looked at him and sighed, picking up another bottle of beer. Eddie quickly grabbed it out of his hand.

“What are you doing?”

“You shouldn’t drink anymore because you’re driving.”

“Driving where?” He asked confused.

“You know where.” He said.

“Eddie, I don’t think-“

“Tommy.” He said firmly. “It’s so fucking obvious how you feel about him, and everyone with eyes can see how Buck feels about you. You both may not have actually said it, but neither of you can deny it. I get why you ended things, I really do, and you can tell yourself it’s for the best, but you and I both know that that’s bullshit. Sure, things might not work out in the future, who knows, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try. I’d give anything to go back and change what I did. Every day I find myself wondering if I’d have stayed would Shannon and I have stayed together? Because if we had, we probably would have still been in Texas and she wouldn’t have been hit by that car and Christopher would still have his mother.”

“You can’t blame yourself for her death, Eddie.” Tommy tried reassuring him.

“But I do, Tommy. All the decisions that I made because I was convinced I knew best, all ended up with Shannon being on that crosswalk that day.” He closed his eyes for a moment and sighed. “Look I’m not saying it’s the same and that somehow one of you is gonna end up dead if you stay broken up. All I’m saying is don’t let my regrets be yours. Don’t let your fear keep you away from something, someone, that could be the greatest thing to ever happen to you.”

Realisation hit Tommy like a freight train and he practically jumped up; the adrenaline that was suddenly shooting through him making it impossible to sit.

“I am such a fucking idiot.” He ran his hands over his face and crouched down. No, that wasn’t the correct position either and he stood up again.

“Uh—huh.” Eddie said smugly, sipping his beer.

“What-what do I do?”

“You know what you need to do.” Eddie gestured towards the door.

“Now? It’s almost midnight.” He argued.

“Did you have any other pressing matters?”

Tommy quickly left the room and grabbed his keys from the bowl by the door and his jacket from the bannister. But before he opened his front door he walked back into the living room.

“What if.. what if he doesn’t..” he couldn’t say the words out loud. 30 minutes ago he was sure of the decision he’d made 2 days ago, and now there was the smallest bit of hope in his heart that maybe he could make things right—he couldn’t bare the thought of that hope dying.

“I don’t think you have to worry about that.”

“You can’t be certain he’ll want to see me.” Tommy argued.

Eddie laughed “You and I may know Evan in different ways, but I do know him. And hell, even if I’m wrong—at least you’ll know you tried.”

Tommy nodded and took a deep breath before walking back to the door.

“Go get him, tiger.”

**

Tommy couldn’t remember any of the 30 minute drive to Evan’s building. Every scenario was running through his mind over and over. Evan greeting him with a smile at the door, Evan slamming the door in his face, Evan punching him in the face, Evan wrapping his arms around him in relief.. none of them felt like the one that was going to happen.

He didn’t know.

He stood outside Buck’s door for longer than he knew. Lifting his hand up to knock then lowering it again before stepping back. He was scared; terrified.

But that was what got him in this position in the first place. His own stupid fear.

“Get it together, Tommy.” He whispered to himself before stepping forward and knocking on the door.

Given the late hour he’d assumed Evan would be in bed so he’d expected to have a few moments to prepare himself for.. well, he didn’t know what exactly. So when the door opened within seconds he actually jumped. What was more of a shock to his heart, however, was Evan’s face.

His eyes were glassy and red rimmed. His face was puffy and his nose red. The ache in Tommy’s heart was physical.

“Why are you here?” Buck said plainly. His voice was hoarse.

“Can we talk?”

“Is there anything left for you to say? I thought you said everything the other night.”

“Evan, I-“

“Oh, so it’s Evan, now?” He said, his voice having an edge of venom.

“Please.” Tommy pleaded. Buck simply walked away leaving the door open. Tommy took that as approval to walk in. Buck took a beer from the fridge and opened it and leant against the sink. He didn’t offer one to Tommy.

Tommy stood on the spot the other side of the kitchen island suddenly devoid of words.

“What happened to your face?” Buck asked gesturing with his beer bottle to welt on Tommy’s jaw that was beginning to show subtle purple hints.

“Had a run in with Eddie’s fist.” He told him. Bucks eyes went wide for a second before his brows pulled together in a frown.

“You saw Eddie?”

“He saw me. Turned up at my place an hour ago. I left him there to come here.” Buck looked at him waiting for him to say more. “He, uh, made me realise something things.”

“Like what?”

“That I’m a fucking idiot. And a coward.”

“I’m not arguing.” Buck said flatly.

Tommy took a deep breath.

“Evan, you told me that you were the guy Abby dated after me, and then you sat in front of me and gave me this speech about what I’ve done for you as a queer man as if I’m some kind of gay hero, and then you asked me to move in with you. It was all just so.. I’m not a hero, Evan. I’ve screwed up more times than I’d like to admit. I’ve hurt people in ways that I don’t think I’ll ever stop hating myself for. For the longest time I believed that nothing good would ever happen for me—and I accepted that because I deserved it.” He walked around the island but still kept some distance between them.

“And then one day Howie called and asked me for a crazy favour and suddenly I’m looking at you. I knew immediately that you were more than just this gorgeous guy getting into my helicopter, but I told myself that that was ridiculous. Then you called me for the tour of the station and seeing your face light up as I showed you around.. but I told myself that it couldn’t happen. And then you went and maimed Eddie and the next thing I’m here and all i could do was kiss you. What I felt right there was something I thought I’d never get to feel. This.. feeling in my heart that I knew would forever be there.” He tried to swallow away the emotion rising in his throat. He knew if he opened that box that he wouldn’t be able to continue. And he needed to continue. He took a step closer to Buck who shifted in his stance but didn’t move away.

“You’ve told me more than once that you have this tendency to rush ahead with things, so when you asked me to move in I thought that that was what that was. I’ve been happier than I have in a long time over these last 6 months with you but that fear that something would go wrong and I’d get hurt again was still there. And I got scared. I’ve been with guys before who have put me on a pedestal because they were new to their sexuality and then there always came a time when the rose tinted glasses came off and they realised I’m not the big hero they thought I was and.. and they were gone and I was left to pick up the pieces.”

Buck stood up straight and faced Tommy. Tears had begun pooling in his eyes.

“Can I speak now?” He asked and Tommy nodded.

“I was wrong to ask you to move in—that was too soon, I get that now. There were a whole host of other ways I could have told you how I felt and I picked the wrong one. All I was trying to do was let know how serious I was about you. About us. Because you’re not as unreadable as you think, Tommy. I knew that being with me was risk for you and that you were probably scared that I might one day figure out I need to explore my sexuality more, and I just wanted to let you know that I didn’t need to do that. That you were the one for me.” He wiped away a tear that had escaped his eye.

“I told you about people leaving me and how hard thats been for me. How every time it made it harder to trust people. You made me trust you, Tommy. You made me.. you made me love you and-and the first sign of something difficult for you and you do exactly the same thing everyone else has done!” His voice was louder than either of them expected and more tears had fallen down his cheeks.

Tommy had no hope of stopping his own eyes from welling up seeing Evan like this. His words, his shaking voice, his beautiful face awash with pain. Pain that he caused.

“I know that we have had vastly different experiences of coming out. For you it was painful and sad and even though you pretend that it doesn’t still bother you, I know that it does. And I know that my experience was a privilege to have—to have people in my life who didn’t care, who didn’t judge me or love me any less, and I hate that you didn’t get to experience it the way that I did, but.. that’s not on me. And it wasn’t fair to put your insecurities because of your experiences onto me and assume that I’m going to handle it the way that you did, or had to.”

It frustrated Tommy when others thought Evan was dumb—he was far from it. He wasn’t just smart and incredibly perceptive, he was also really damn good at reading people; understanding people without them saying all that much. Tommy had never been much of an open book—his father had taught him to keep his feelings to himself because that’s what real men do—but he had been far more open with Evan than with anybody else he’d dated. Even so, he still kept some things close to the vest; didn’t always open up in a way that Evan wished that he would.

But Evan didn’t always need him to talk about how he was feeling because he could often read Tommy like a book. It impressed and equally scared him.

“I just can’t for the life of me understand why you didn’t just say no to moving in. Why you couldn’t have just said that it was too soon for you; that you weren’t ready. You decided that we would go at my pace and at any point you could have sat me down and told me you needed to slow down. Instead, you just bailed.”

Tommy took another step closer. “I know. I know and I can’t explain just how much I wish I had done that.”

“Evan I..” He stepped closer again until he could reach out and touch Buck, although he resisted doing that. “I wish, god you have no idea how much I wish I could take back what I did to you. I have let fear dictate my life for too long and I don’t want to do that anymore. So let me make it clear to you now so that there is no doubt in your mind. Evan, you are without doubt the best thing that has ever happened to me. Breaking up with you is something I will spend the rest of my life regretting doing, because I love you. I’m in love with you, and if you let me, if you can find it in your heart to give me a second chance, I swear to god I will do everything that I can possibly do to show you how sorry I am.”

His own tears had fallen now and he didn’t care. Evan needed to know—to see—what he meant to him and how sorry he was.

“How-“ Buck rubbed his eyes of more tears and sniffed “how do I know that the next problem we have that you won’t run again? Because I can’t do this again, Tommy I can’t-“

Tommy gave in to himself and closed the distance between them, taking Bucks face into his hands.

“Evan, I swear to god, I will never run from you again. You are the most incredible man I have ever met and losing you, even for only 2 days, was more painful than I ever thought it could be. I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you and earning back your trust if you’ll let me.”

Bucks hands found their way to Tommy’s waist like a magnet. They always did.

“I love you, Evan.” He reached up with his thumbs and softly wiped away tears from Bucks cheek.

“I love you too.”

The words had barely left Bucks lips before Tommy’s were on his. Buck immediately pressed into the kiss. It was hasty and almost uncoordinated; both trying to make up for lost time. It had only been for 2 days but felt like an eternity to both of them.

Both of them were crying but neither cared. They needed each other. Needed to touch and feel and taste and consume.

**

Tommy breathed in slowly; inhaled the familiar scent of Evan’s shampoo from his head nestled between Tommys jaw and shoulder. He relished the feeling of Evan’s finger tips holding onto Tommy’s chest once again. The sound of his breathing, the feeling of their legs entangled while their naked bodies were pressed against each others.. all things he’d loved in the past six months that he realised that he’d taken for granted.

The only sound in bucks bedroom was their breathing. There was still a thousand things Tommy wanted to say but didn’t want to ruin the moment.

“I missed you.” Buck mumbled into Tommys chest. Tommy squeezed him tighter in his arms.

“I missed you too, Evan.” He kissed the top of his head.

“Will you promise me something?”

“Anything.” Tommy said.

“Please don’t ever call me Buck again.” He said it with such sadness in his voice it pushed Tommy to the brink of tears again.

“You will always be Evan to me.” He told him. “My Evan.”

He felt Buck smile against his skin before he lifted his head and stretched his body up to pressed a kiss to Tommy’s lips. Tommy hummed into it. His he’d missed kissing Evan.

Buck released the kiss and looked at Tommy.

“We, uh, really should talk about what happens now.”

“Yeah.” Tommy agreed. Buck shifted back to his side of the bed but kept a hand low and fingers intertwined with Tommy’s.

“So.. what do you want?” Buck asked. “With us.”

“I want a future with you—a long one. But.. I need things to slow down a bit.” Tommy told him honestly.

“I’m sorry that I asked you to move in.”

“No. No, you don’t have to apologise for that.” Tommy said lifting Bucks hand up to his mouth to kiss his knuckles.

“Yes, I do. Tommy, I was so.. I’ve loved every minute being with you, and I got so caught up in you letting me set the pace that I didn’t stop to check in that you were comfortable.”

“No, Evan—I should have put my big boy pants on and told you that I needed to slow down a bit.”

Buck huffed a small laugh. “I guess we were both idiots in that department then.”

“I guess so.” Tommy agreed. “And for the record, when the time comes where we’re both ready to live together, I’m not moving in here.” Buck looked at him confused. “I have a house, remember? With a gym and a garage and a yard—you would absolutely be moving in with me.”

“Yeah I kinda didn’t think that part through either.” Buck said. “I was just so focussed on letting you know that you were it for me that I didn’t really stop to think of the details.”

Warmth and fondness spread through Tommy hearing that. They loved each other and, now that he’d taken his head out of his ass, Tommy could admit he wanted a future with Evan as much as Evan wanted one with him. But hearing Evan say they he was “it” for him was somehow not as scary as it would have been 2 days ago.

“I’m it for you, huh?” He said pulling Buck closer. He came willingly because he always did. But there was something behind his soft smile. “What is it?”

“You are. You are it for me, Tommy, and-and I’m in this if you’re are, but.. but it’s going to take some time for me to fully trust that you won’t walk away again.” His eyes were as earnest as they always were. Tommy slid a gently hand along Bucks face, nestling his fingers in the hair in the back of his head.

“I know. As long it takes, I’ll be here proving to you every day how completely I’m in this with you because.. because you’re it for me too.”

“Yeah?” Buck asked clearly trying to hold back a smile.

“Yeah. It’s scary to say, but you’re the love of my life Evan Buckley, and I will spend every day of my life proving that to you if you’ll let me.”

Buck answered with his lips on Tommy’s and for the first time in 51 hours his body finally relaxed.

He was back where he belonged.

[freestyle-crocodile-trashpile]

Jimmy!

Summary;Anya told you about Jimmy, the least sane on the ship

Type:Scenario:Horror(?):Crewmembers & M!Reader, Anya X M!Reader(alittle)

Version:Mouthwashing

⚠️THERE ARE SPOILERS!! READ WITH CATION!!⚠️

~

It was a mystery why you came on the ship, with the countless therapist telling you not to, and your parol officer trying to stop you. But the law seemed to let you go, hiding the crimes you committed after realizing what you could do with ease, and letting you go. Why you joined- Nonone knew, all Anya knew was that you seemed to like her- in what why? She's unsure.

Everyday you'd say hi to her, finishing your tasks early to sit by her when she's alone. Everything was alright. You kept Jimmy at bay for abit, gave her time before he got to her.

She was quiet after that, not speaking as much, staring blankly. You've seen it so many times to know something was wrong, she couldn't convince you otherwise. She'd flinch around you, tense around Jimmy, and preferred to have Curly around. It was frustrating. All your hardwork was going out the window, sucking into space with nothing but a star to use up.

When you saw her sitting alone, now was your chance. To finally achieve your hardwork back, to have her back with you.

"Anya? What's wrong. Your so...distant now"

You sat next to her, keeping some distance to keep her in her comfort zone. Your head tilted, she wasn't looking at you. Your hands itched to tilt her head to you, to make her look at you with those eyes that always had you captivated.

"Its...it's nothing, really."

Her voice was holding on by a thread, she was scared. You knew she hadn't figured out about your past, it was all hidden years ago. Besides the ankle bracelet that they never took off before you got onto the ship. But she didn't know what you did, only had your doctor and therapist notes. So why? Why was she so scared.

"Anya..."

You moved closer, hand reaching out. But you didn't grab her, a light touch of your finger to her shoulder- making her jolt and look at you. Your hand was hovering, looking at her with a look she knew that you wouldn't leave until you knew the problem. She always thought you were stubborn. With a sigh she leaned back, rubbing her arm as she stared off again, blankly.

"...It's Jimmy. He....he's just...too much"

She didn't see the anger flash in your eyes, wasn't looking at you to see the darkness in your eyes. The same darkness that got you arrested. Anya had glossy eyes, clearly holding back tears that threatened to call her out.

"...did he hurt you?"

Anya looked at you shocked, gulping as she saw the anger. After a moment she looked down, her shaky hands gripping her pants as tears started to flow.

"Not...not necessarily."

It took a moment before it clicked in your head, eyes narrowing as you stared at her. You got it, you'll deal with him.

"Anya. I'll deal with him. I'll make sure he won't bother you."

Before Anya could react you walked out, looking for Jimmy. She knew she messed up when your voice boomed through the ship, shouting for Jimmy like you were hunting him.

After your...chat, with Jimmy, it got quieter. He wouldn't even look at Anya now, didn't show his face. But, Curly didn't like the chat you had with him, coming to chat with you but couldn't bring himself to mention it. Anya was confused, looking between you and Curly with a puzzled look. Curly had to get you away from get Anya. It took until you fell asleep to get to talk to her.

"Anya... he.. he didn't talk to Jimmy"

Anya looked puzzled, she knew you talked to him. You told him, she why else would Jimmy be avoiding her, you did seem mad.

"What? I watched him go to talk to Jimmy."

Curly sighed, rubbing his neck as he looked off. He didn't want to break the news like this, but it had to be said.

"Anya.. he, hurt Jimmy. Badly. H-...Jimmy's face its...it's bad Anya"

Anya was stunned, staring at Curly in disbelief. Her mouth opened but no words came out. Her throat was dry.

"I don't think He's sane Anya, Jimmy was so badly hurt i-i don't know what to do. I know I'm captain, but he won't listen to me."

Anya was silent, not wanting to believe it was real. But..maybe it was a good thing. Anyas hand found her stomach, an uncomfortable cramp starting up... but no blood was coming out.

"I'm sorry Curly..i-i have to go"

Anya stood up and walked out before Curly could continue. Leaving Curly there in silence. Curly head dropped into his hands, letting out a shaky breath.

Anya didn't look at you the same, there was so much conflict and confusion in her mind. It scared her to see you around the others- you seemed to like the others at least. Jimmy didn't look at you, but Swansea found it hilarious. Jimmy pissed him off so much, it was about time someone put him in his place. When Anya finally saw Jimmy's face again, it was when she was telling him about her pregnancy. She saw the bansages, the beaten face. And the anger, so much anger on one man's face.

Then the crash happened. And everything changed.

Jimmy became captain, you got angry, and Swansea was frustrated. Diasuke didn't change much.

Anya couldn't do it, her pregnancy was devastating, especially when it's a man she didn't want who's the father. When you came to the client, looking at Curly blankly, but at her with sympathy, she broke. She didn't know why, but you had that effect on her. She cried and cried into your chest- her legs couldn't even hold her, making you both sit on the floor as she sobbed and told you everything. Your arms were around her,letting her sob and let out all out until she fell asleep. Curly watched in horror as you flexed your hands. He couldn't do anything, not even able warn anyone. You'd hurt him again, and again until someone was dead. Either you, or him.

When Anya woke, she was in the client wrapped in a blanket alone with Curly. He was groaning, thrashing around while staring at her. He wanted to warn her, but she just sighed, getting his pain meds and gave it to him.

It was silent in the ship, Swansea and Diasuke were sitting at the table silently. It's been about a month since the crash, and suddenly... there wasn't a Jimmy yelling at them. And no axe. Anya walked around, a bad feeling in her gut as she looked for you. Her voice cracked as she called out for you. When she found you, there was no Jimmy, no axe, and... no uniform. You were in a white shirt and some spare pants.

"There you are! What happened? Everything's so quiet- and i...I have a bad feeling"

Your face was blank, staring at her before smiling, shaking your head with a chuckle.

"Your overthinking it, nothing happened."

You pulled her away from the cockpit, not wanting her to see the mess. The axe wasn't needed anyway.

Later that day while she was lying down, she looked at you, growing nervous as you sat next to her. There was something..wrong, very wrong. Your hand touched her stomach, staring at it before smiling.

"I'll help you, Anya"

She didn't like the look on your face, slowly sitting up. Your hand moved away, now resting on your knee.

"Where's Jimmy?"

Your face faltered, suddenly becoming blank. You stared, sighing as you shifted to sit across from her, putting some distance between you two.

"In the cockpit, where the captain always is."

She didn't like that answer and slowly stood up. You followed her, the blank look. When she got to the cockpit she hesitated, staring at the door with nervousness before you reached around and opened the door. The chair was turned to you two, but Jimmy was there. She could see his arm resting on the armrest and his head from over the chair.

"See? He's being a captain"

Anya sighed, rubbing her face as she turned away. Not noticing the handle of the axe sticking out from the side of the chair

"Maybe you were right...I must've been overthinking"

When the door closed there was a small thud, that Anya did notice. But thinking it was just Jimmy- technically, she's not wrong.

"Come on, let's go to bed"

~

[A/N: I've been wanting to write something about mouthwashing but never had any ideas. I hope you enjoyed]

[fratboykate]

i legit had to take a crying break lmao but im back and about to go into the tag to hurt myself again

[dykedvonte]

wanted to say I appreciate your nuanced takes on MW and especially Curly. i don't get the claim that the fandom is full of Curly apologists when majority (esp yt and tiktok) say he's worse than Jimmy. Yes there's commentary about bro culture defending people, he def messed up in trying to placate Jimmy (tbh "we'll fix this" sounded more like trying to keep someone prone to outbursts like Jim calm and not hurt Anya/himself) but I don't think he did nothing to help Anya, since she continued to confide in him and he had less than a week to resolve it before the crash (I also don't get everyone saying he knew for ages when it seems like Anya told him that same week). I get Jimmy's a pos but saying stuff like Curly should've known he'd crash the ship or that Jim had a criminal record he ignored, reducing them to obviously horrible villain and willfully ignorant sidekick feels like a disservice to the game. If your best friend turned out to be horrible, what would you do in a confined space in the span of a few days to respond? I'd say some of the horror comes from trying to do good but ultimately failing, Curly's state after the crash is meant to be tragic horror not revenge/punishment

Thank you and this is what I want to get across.

A lot of information we have to supplement when it comes to how long things have been happening on this current ship. I think people try to add on to the horror and negligence by making things more obvious so it can feel like it was easier to avoid when, true to life, its not. Jimmy clearly didn't deserve or appreciate what Curly did for him in getting him the job, but do you think if Jimmy was that big of a menace on Earth he would've given him a position where he could have that level of power over people's lives? There's something in the fact he specifically chose to pick a position so close to himself where he could watch Jimmy.

I hate the bro code argument because that is a whole can of worms people really don't get. That sort of mentality is born from the general respect and preference of male matter over female ones. Curly is clearly not that guy, he is absent minded about the issue and inadvertently dismissive but he clearly believes Anya, he just can't understand what she's going through. It's an onslaught of information that no one really reacts right to. Additonally, the entire discussion of her assualt plays to heavy into the idea that there is fault outside of the perpertratior when it comes to SA. It's too close if she only did this or if Curly had protected her better but the fact of the matter is Jimmy did what he did. He did it before any of the conversations with Anya about it and it's why her behavior seemed to change so drastically in those last two days.

He has other conflicting thought and while his role as a Captain should've taken over, people act like it's not a very human thing to have such a toxic presence cloud your judgement. It is never easy to separate friend from coworker once that connection is formed, you want to help them, especially if they were friend first and for a long while like in this case. It's not right, but people act like it would be easy when the game clearly points out that no choice is easy to make, especially when you have to make it for more than one person. You have the weigh the consequences, look at all the options and make a plan. People can headcanon and decide how long things where happening, but if we look at what we were presented through the characters eyes, the only person given time to do that was Jimmy.

He waited two months after the crash to appoint himself Captain. Every time a problem was brought up he immediately took action and refused to sit on it and find a better solution. I think it's important to look at the warped way Jimmy takes initiative where Curly didn't as it works as a good contrast of why you don't just run in to "fix" things. The quickest and easiest option may not be the safest or most beneficial. I think some thoughts on the game suffer from the black and white thinking the game doesn't operate on along with us being voyeurs. We see what exactly led to what but the characters don't. They don't have the hindsight and foresight we do and even ours is scrambled by the non-linear story telling.

Like it's hard to talk abuou those grey zones without sounding like an apologist because you're explaining why taking responsibility isn't easy. It's not and it's weird to act like it would be in a scenerio that led up to the events of the game knowing what we know. We see all these characters in such isolated moments with various things before, in between, after and even during we aren't privy too. The idea that Jimmy is worse than Curly heavily banks on the words Jimmy was saying to Jimmy before he crashed the ship. That whatever happened on the ship was his responsibility to bare, which is true due to his position. But, are they not still not responsible for taking the actions Curly then must bare?

Like i feel like people think that these are situation that become easier with age or when you are in a postion of authority and they aren't. You don't lose your biases or gain some sudden knowledge that makes it easier. It just becomes more tiring as you keep dealing with it. I would be first in line to say Curly fucked up and should've done more but the idea he knew how bad it could get or he really saw the worst in the people around him and ignored it pretty much ignores a huge aspect of his character and the game.

[acourtofquestions]

Rowaelin Chapter 41 Kingdom of Ash:

She'd rebuild it—what she had been.

Perhaps one last time, perhaps only for a little while, but she'd do it. If only for Terrasen.

Rowan swooped from the mast, shifting as he reached her side at the rail. He surveyed the night-black sea beyond them. "You should rest." She slid him a glance. "I'm not tired." Not a lie, not in some regards. "Want to spar?" He frowned. "Training can start tomorrow."

"Or tonight." She held his piercing stare, matched his dominance with her own.

"It can wait a few hours, Aelin."

"Every day counts." Against Erawan, even a day of training would count.

Rowan's jaw tightened. "True," he said at last. "But it can still wait. There are ... there are things we need to discuss." The silent words rose in his animal-bright eyes. About you and me.

Her mouth went dry. But Aelin nodded In silence, they strode into their spacious quarters, its only decoration the wall of windows that overlooked the churning sea behind them. A far cry from a queen's chamber, or any she might have purchased as Adarlan's assassin.

At least the bed built into the wall looked clean enough, the sheets crisp and stainless. But Aelin headed for the oak desk anchored to the floor, and leaned against it while Rowan shut the door.

In the dim lantern light, they stared at each other.

She'd endured Maeve and Cairn; she'd endured Endovier and countless other horrors and losses. She could have this conversation with him. The first step toward rebuilding herself.

Aelin knew Rowan could hear her thundering heart as the space between them went taut. She swallowed once. "Elide and Lorcan told you... told you everything that was said on that beach."

A curt nod, wariness flooding his eyes. "Everything that Maeve said." Another nod.

She braced herself. "That I'm-we're mates."

Understanding and something like relief replaced that wariness. "Yes."

"I'm your mate," she said, needing to voice it. "And you are mine."

Rowan crossed the room, but halted a few feet from the desk on which she leaned. "What of it, Aelin?" His question was low, rough.

"Don't you..." She scrubbed at her face. "You know what she did to you, to ..." She couldn't say her name. Lyria. "Because of it."

"I do know."

"And?"

"And what do you wish me to say?"

She pushed off the desk. "I wish you to tell me how you feel about it. If…"

"If what?"

"If you wish it wasn't so."

His brows narrowed. "Why would I ever wish that?"

She shook her head, unable to answer, and stared over her shoulder toward the sea.

It seemed like he would close the distance between them, but he remained where he was.

"Aelin." His voice turned hoarse. "Aelin."

She looked at him then, at the pain in his words.

"Do you know what I wish?" He exposed his palms, one tattooed, the other unmarked. "I wish that you had told me. When you realized it. I wish you had told me then."

She swallowed against the ache in her throat. "I didn't want to hurt you."

"Why would it ever hurt me to know the truth that was already in my heart? The truth I hoped for?"

"I didn't understand it. I didn't understand how it was possible. I thought maybe ... maybe you might be able to have two mates within a lifetime, but even then, I just ….." She blew out a breath. "I didn't want you to be distressed." His eyes softened. "Do I regret that Lyria was dragged into this, that the cost of Maeve's game was her life, and the life of the child we might have had? Yes. I regret that, and I wish it had never happened." He would bear the tattoo to remember it for the rest of his days. "But none of that was your fault. I will always carry some of the burden of it, always know I chose to leave her for war and glory, and that I played right into Maeve's hands."

"Maeve wanted to ensnare you to get to me, though."

"Then it is her choice, not yours."

Aelin ran a hand over the worn wood of the desk. "In those illusions she spun for me, she showed me variations on one more than all the others." The words were strained, but she forced them out. Forced herself to look at him. "She spun me one dreamscape that felt so real I could smell the wind off the Staghorns."

"What did she show you?" A breathless question.

Aelin had to swallow before she could answer. "She showed me what might have been—if there had been no Erawan, if Elena had dealt with him properly and banished him. If there had been no Lyria, none of that pain or despair you endured. She showed me Terrasen as it would have been today, with my father as king, and my childhood happy, and..." Her lips wobbled. "When I turned twenty, you came with a delegation of Fae to Terrasen, to make amends for the rift between my mother and Maeve. And you and I took one look at each other in my father's throne room, and we knew."

She didn't fight the stinging in her eyes. "I wanted to believe that was the true world. That this was the nightmare from which I'd awaken. I wanted to believe that there was a place where you and I had never known this suffering and loss, where we'd take one look at each other and know we were mates. Maeve told me she could make it so. If I gave her the keys, she'd make it all possible." She wiped at her cheek, at the tear that escaped down it. "She spun me realities where you were dead, where you'd been killed by Erawan and only in handing over the keys to her would I be able to avenge you. But those realities made me ... I stopped being useful to her when she told me you were gone. She couldn't get me to talk, to think. Yet in the ones where you and I met, where things were as they should have been ... that was when I came the closest."

His swallow was audible. "What stopped you?"

She wiped at her face again. "The male I fell in love with was you. It was you, who knew pain as I did, and who walked with me through it, back to the light. Maeve didn't understand that. That even if she could create that perfect world, it wouldn't be you with me. And I'd never trade that, trade this. Not for anything." He extended his hand. An offer and invitation.

Aelin laid hers atop his, and his callused fingers squeezed gently. "I wanted it to be you," he breathed, closing his eyes. "For months and months, even in Wendlyn, I wondered why you weren't my mate instead. It tore me up, wondering it, but I still did." He opened his eyes, and they burned like green fire. "All this time, I wanted it to be you."

She lowered her gaze, but he hooked a thumb and forefinger around her chin and lifted her face.

"I know you are tired, Fireheart. I know that the burden on your shoulders is more than anyone should endure." He took their joined hands and laid them on his heart. "But we'll face this together. Erawan, the Lock, all of it.

"We'll face it together. And when we are done, when you Settle, we will have a thousand years together. Longer."

A small sound came out of her. "Elena said the Lock requires—"

"We'll face it together," he swore again.

"And if the cost of it truly is you, then we'll pay it together. As one soul in two bodies.

Her heart strained to the point of cleaving. "Terrasen needs a king."

"I have no intention of ruling Terrasen without you. Aedion can have the job."

She scanned his face. He meant every word He brushed the hair from her face, his other hand still clasping hers to his chest, where his heart pounded a steady, unfaltering rhythm.

"Even if I had my choice of any dream-realities, any perfect illusions, I would still choose you, too."

She felt the truth of his words echo into the unbreakable thing that bound their very souls, and tilted her face up toward his. But he made no move beyond it.

She frowned. "Why aren't you kissing me?"

"I thought you might want to be asked first."

"That never stopped you before."

"This first time, I wanted to make sure you were ... ready." After Cairn and Maeve. After months of having no choices whatsoever.

She smiled despite that truth. "I'm ready to be kissed again, Prince."

He let out a dark chuckle and muttered, "Thank the gods," before he lowered his mouth to hers.

"You're my mate." Her words were a breathless rush. "And I am yours."

The world might have been burning around them for all she cared, all he cared, too.

"Together, Aelin," he promised, and she heard the rest of the words in every place their bodies joined. Together they would face this, together they would find a way.

Together we'll find a way, their mingling breaths, the crashing sea, seemed to echo.

Together.

[shidoukanae]

also now realizing there's a heavy possibility that the unknown event Daniel references where he asks Lyla "how are you going to find your happiness?" is the same event Helene references when she tells Lyla that Lyla "betrayed" her.

Coincidentally, that's probably the same event that allowed Helene to be manipulated by the Empress into turning against Lyla and might have been the cause of Daniel leaving Lyla (probably to find out how to awaken as a dragon so he could gain the power to take her away from her family faster? maybe even going so far as to try and compete w/ Paris for the throne if it means protecting Lyla?)

There's also a suspicious gap of time from when Helene was poisoned to when she told Lyla to get away from her that has been omitted. And considering baby Lyla cries about Helene not wanting to be with her anymore...and that same baby Lyla is seen hugging Daniel in the unexplored scene...Lyla what the fuck did you do to Helene to embitter her like this?

[facelessfractal]

Vent in tags

General tw for abuse.

[varjopeura]

.

[hecksupremechips]

I need so much help I’m so stressed I’m fucking drowning oh god oh god oh god

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

I CRUMBLE COMPLETELY WHEN YOU CRY ; SUGURU GETO

synopsis; after a tense fight with your boyfriend, you flee out into a brewing rainstorm. luckily, suguru is always willing to warm you up again.

word count; 6.2k

contents; suguru geto/reader, gn!reader, copious amounts of hurt/comfort, no really that’s literally all this fic is, sugu snaps at you for worrying about him, (and then promptly spirals), he makes it up to you though :), healthy communication ensues, [name] is used exactly once, switching povs, soft & fluffy ending <33

a/n; going back to my roots (mindless hurt/comfort) 🙏🙏 i just think that if suguru picked me up like a small kitten and put me in his lap it would fix me

you’re cold.

little shivers run through your body, trail down your spine, and all you can do is clench your chattering teeth and dig your nails into the skin of your palms. heavy rain falls down without mercy, going pitter patter as it hits the asphalt — a sudden lightning strike lights up the town, flashing in the reflection of puddles, and all you manage is a weak jolt.

dark clouds blanket the whole sky, not allowing even a sliver of blue to shine through the darkness of the rainy evening. enveloping you, surrounding you, soft earthy scents — wet asphalt, roses blooming to your left and right, bushes with sweet-smelling flora guiding your path. little petals, glistening with droplets and bouncing with the force of the rain.

it’d be comforting, were it not for one simple fact; 

you don’t have an umbrella.

at this point, thirty minutes into your solemn, sniffly walk, you’re absolutely soaked. with only a measly hoodie to cover your body and head, and a tank top sticking to the skin beneath it — you were stupid to think you’d get out of it unscathed. your shoes are ruined, wet soles sticking to the asphalt, two heavy weights carrying you down the familiar street ahead.

you let out a shuddering breath. 

gosh, this was stupid. you knew it was going to rain, but still walked out without a care in the world; despite the weather forecast, despite suguru’s warnings over breakfast, despite all those dark clouds covering the milk-blue sky. you just didn’t think it’d be this bad. you just felt so helpless.

you just couldn’t stay there.

some fresh air, and a bit of space. that was all you needed. just that one sliver of comfort.

so, yeah, maybe you weren’t thinking very clearly when you stormed out. maybe you weren’t thinking nearly enough, not enough to even grab one of the umbrellas hanging off the coatrack. hanging there just for you, the cutest little frog umbrella, one suguru bought for you himself. big, googly eyes, and a big smile. the most perfect shade of green. 

(he put it there just for you.)

maybe you weren’t thinking much at all. maybe you just needed to get away, away from him, away from the frustration on his features. arguments with suguru are few and far between; that fact only adds to the sting of his cold voice, still ringing in your ears. you bite down on your bottom lip again, just to stop it from wobbling so pitifully. blinking rapidly, tears and raindrops clinging to your lashline.

you were just worried. is that so awful? 

(why did he have to be so fucking mean about it?)

a sigh flows from your lips, heavy and defeated, undeniably tired. you hate feeling like this, feeling this bitter, hate feeling like you’ve done something wrong. more than anything, you hate arguing with him — hate the idea of him being angry with you. hate the way his voice turns colder, just a little sharper, an octave lower. he never raises it, never ever, but somehow he still sounds so scary. 

it bothers you. bothers you how sensitive you are, when it comes to him. just that shivering tilt of his voice, coupled with the annoyance in his eyes, and your eyes were already turning glassy. one little sentence, and you were close to breaking out into a sob. because suguru was angry with you, and that alone is enough to make you feel like you’ve done nothing right all your life.

so you left. because that was all you could do. 

sure, the sharp pelting of the rain hurts a little, and the thunder is scary, and you’re awfully cold — but anything is better than having suguru see you burst into tears over such a small argument. you know he’d try to soothe you, know he’d feel guilty. but that just makes it all the more embarrassing. 

(all the more pathetic.)

so you left, rushed out of your own apartment, and before you knew it the storm was rolling in above you. rain and thunder, something to rival the ache in your chest. it still hasn’t been that long, a little over half an hour, and you still haven’t fully calmed down. you still don’t know how to face him. but —

but fuck, it’s cold. and an undeniable part of you yearns to run back into his arms, to make up with him, to hear his voice turn warm and see his eyes go soft. you want him to soothe you so, so badly. like he always does. 

another sigh — more resigned this time — slips from out your lips. your bones feel sore, you’re almost certain you’re going to catch a cold, and it’s getting late. you’re all alone, and it’s raining, and you look vulnerable and helpless. 

you want to go home.

it’ll be awkward, but maybe you can sneak in somehow — without him noticing. then you can go straight to sleep, on the couch, and maybe you’ll feel a little better tomorrow. the two of you can talk it out over breakfast, over warm coffee, and you can tell him what you meant to say without stumbling over what words to use or dancing around the subject like a scared little child.

you’re just too tired to argue anymore.

he just made you feel so stupid. so very, very small. suguru’s been working so hard lately, coming home late, exhausting himself. all you wanted was to make sure he was okay. that, and to coax him into relaxing a bit; maybe take a day off to recharge. that was all.

but he just brushed you off.

and, well, maybe you should’ve backed off after that. maybe you should’ve taken that as a sign that suguru didn’t feel up to answering your questions. but you were just so worried, so pitifully anxious, and you just wanted to help him so, so badly.

suguru is always so dependable. always there to help you, to ground you, to console you. even when you push him away or insist you don’t need it. he can be pushy, when he feels like he needs to, when your health is at risk — and it’s frustrating, but you’ve always appreciated it. you just wanted to return the favour. push him, just a little, to show him how much you care. show him that he can depend on you the way he insists you do with him.

but then he grew frustrated.

”suguru… you’ve been working so much, i’m —” you bite down on your bottom lip. ”i’m just worried that you’re overdoing it.” ”… god. how many times do i have to say it? i know my limits, [name].” ”but — you just look so tired —” ”well, i’m sorry for that.” a cold smile. ”am i not living up to your expectations?”

(that’s not what you meant. he knows that’s not what you meant.)

and it makes you feel frustrated, too. pardon you for being worried. for wanting to be there for him, for once, for wanting to be a supportive partner and not just a burden. 

pardon you for feeling a little lonely, with him coming home so late, leaving so early. with him not giving you the affection you’re so used to, and never confiding in you about his stress.

pardon you for wanting him to trust you, a little, even just a sliver more than not at all.

god, you’re exhausted. you just want to sleep — can’t you have that, at least? just that one thing? you don’t mind sleeping on the couch, don’t mind feeling like a stranger in your own home, as long as you get to rest your eyes. just for a little while. 

your brain spins in circles, bitterness and longing heavy on your tongue, as you grumble over what to do or how to feel — 

while your feet have already begun taking you home. moving almost on their own, on instinct, walking past rose bushes and backyards, the smell of glucose and rotting apples. 

and you’re there before you know it: in front of the familiar door to your shared apartment, soaked from head to toe. still feeling a little lost.

for a second, you hesitate.

maybe he’s still angry. maybe he was happy to get some time away from you. maybe you’re just making things worse by doing this, maybe you should just —

but your fingers have already fished out the key from within your pocket, unlocking the door in one swift motion. moving up to curl around the doorknob, a desperation in your veins guiding you closer to his steady warmth.

and before you have the chance to waver again, you pull the door open and step inside.

you move slowly, gentle and careful, almost cautious. softly closing the door behind you and taking a couple quiet steps forward, only to shrug off your hoodie — heavy, soaking wet and discomforting as you pull it over your head. clumsily, you try to get it off you, squirming when the warm indoors air meets your sweaty tank top. it feels soothing on your bare skin, though, ghosting over your shoulders and collarbone, hoodie now clinging to your elbows.

in the middle of the taxing endeavor, you almost fail to notice the presence of a certain someone, standing just a little farther away. 

almost, because it’d be impossible for you to miss him, that heavy gaze of his.

and before you can think the thought to do anything else, you’ve locked eyes with him — arms still tangled up in the wet sleeves of your hoodie, raindrops and sweat sticking to your skin.

(suguru takes a moment to look at you.)

not daring to say anything, afraid to part your lips, you simply stand there. in silence, like a deer in headlights. for some reason, you can’t really read his expression — you’re a little too tired, a little too caught off guard.

you can only blink, worry surely evident in your furrowed brows, as the seconds tick on and on. tense, tense, tense.

and then he’s walking away again. 

crestfallen. that’s probably the best way to describe how you feel right now, watching him disappear around the corner. dejected, as your eyes fall to the floor, and your posture wilts like a dying rose. you finally shake off your hoodie and watch it fall to the floor with a gross, wet plap.

it hurts. you want to cry. you can’t help it. even though a part of you is still upset, even though a part of you fully expected this to happen… 

another part was still hoping he’d be happy to see you. as if just seeing his smile again might’ve fixed everything.

but he didn’t even give you that.

that’s that, then. there’s nothing you can do except proceed with your original plan. you’ll change into some warm, dry clothes, and go to sleep on the couch like the miserable dog you are. you’ll leave everything troublesome and disheartening for tomorrow’s you to handle. 

for now, you just have to worry about getting some sleep. you don’t have to think about suguru, or his cold voice, or the way he just walked away without saying anything. 

you don’t have to think about him at all. 

(don’t think. don’t think. don’t —)

— the soft patter of footsteps breaks you out of your anxious spiral. they come closer and closer, until a certain silhouette enters your vision out of the corner of your eye.

a certain suguru geto, hair down and cascading past his shoulders, wearing a comfortable sweater and loose sweatpants with a fluffy towel in tow.

once again, you can only blink. a vaguely confused deer in headlights. suguru comes closer and closer, until you can clearly see his eyes, amber gold, full of an emotion you finally manage to identify —

worry.

(ah.)

before you can say anything, he’s draped the towel around you. it feels nice, a soft texture on your skin, big enough to engulf you completely, cocooning you. cozy and snug. you can’t help but melt a little when suguru places his big hand over the towel and smooths it over your cheek, drying off your skin so gently that you feel like crying again.

”are you cold?” he asks, concern evident in his voice. to your immense relief, it sounds nowhere near as scary as before. ”you’re soaked…”

suguru almost seems to be pouting, bottom lip jutting out the slightest bit, eyebrows furrowed softly. still rubbing the raindrops off your skin. he looks awfully troubled, undeniably anxious, and the way he’s caressing your skin feels so earnestly caring. the towel feels warm, like he went the extra mile to heat it up for you.

and, more than anything, the feeling of suguru’s big hands cupping your face is almost heavenly. even though the touch is indirect, you can’t help but bask in his warmth, almost desperate to cling to it after escaping from the harsh cold of the rain. like he could slip away and leave you again if you don’t stay perfectly still, just like this.

it’s soothing. so, so soothing. but it also makes you feel kind of meek.

you sound sheepish when you answer, voice a little hoarse after your grueling walk. throat dry from all the crying. ”nah, ’m fine…”

the words are tiny, fragile like pieces of glass, and they only make suguru’s brows furrow further, pout turning into a soft frown as he gazes down at you.

(he hates how small you look. like you’re curling in on yourself.)

as soon as you left the apartment, a wave of regret washed over him. it was expected, obviously, because that’s what always happens after the two of you argue — which is almost never, which only makes the cut in his heart run deeper. 

he felt frustrated. and tired, so tired. but when he saw your troubled expression, the way your eyes watered slightly before you rushed out…

he could only feel guilty.

and that sensation only deepened as he sat on the couch and spiraled, over the course of forty long minutes, playing the interaction back inside his head. over and over, thinking about your words, his words, some of which he desperately wishes he could take back. 

and when it started raining? suguru could only feel regret, hot and ugly, dragging him into his own thoughts. could only drown in his worries, look out the window anxiously. thinking of you, his sweet baby, stuck under the onslaught of dark clouds and lightning strikes and heavy rain.

(you didn’t bring an umbrella.)

suguru waited. that was all he could do. 

he didn’t think it was possible for him to feel so useless. fighting with himself, the part of him that wanted to give you the space you needed clashing with the part that yearned to run after you — scoop you up and apologize, hold you tight and protect you from the rainfall. you weren’t answering his calls, and he didn’t want to overwhelm you, didn’t want to make you feel even worse. afraid to scare you off for good.

so he could only sit there and worry, sit there and wait, wallow in his own shame until he heard the faintest sound of the front door unlocking. followed by the sound of it creaking open, slowly — and that was all he needed. 

and there you were. standing by the entrance, entirely soaked, tank top sticking to your skin and that flimsy hoodie hanging off your arms, cheeks a little red from the cold and strands of hair sticking to your skin.

like a tiny kitten left out in the rain.

it made him feel so painfully anxious. his heart aching so deeply, so viscerally, while all he could think about was smothering you in affection. taking care of you, like he always wants to do, needs to do to stay sane. so suguru left, to go grab something to dry you off with —

and now he’s here. in front of you, smothering you with the towel rather than his love, fretting over you like an overprotective mother. 

suguru yearns to soothe you. to take care of you. always, always, always, his hands on your skin and lidded amber eyes staring deeply into yours. offering himself like a shelter to a stray dog, hoping so tenderly that you’ll take the bait.

(he just wants you to feel safe with him again.)

so he stumbles for something, anything to say, afraid of overstepping or making you uncomfortable. you did just argue, and suguru was anything but patient with you. usually he would be; he’d make sure to be. but with work piling up, and exhaustion clinging to every pore of his skin…

he failed at maintaining his composure.

he needs to make it up to you. despite everything — even though he feels a little awkward, a little restless, still drowning a little in shame — he just wants to tend to you. that, and nothing more.

”hang on,” he exhales, stepping back and letting go of the towel. ”i’ll go draw you a bath…”

”ah — no need,” you smile, a little forced, swiftly reassuring him. he can tell you don’t really know how to act after everything that happened; still walking on eggshells. ”i’ll just take a quick shower.”

suguru wants to protest, wants to coax you into taking a proper bath, into letting your cold skin and aching bones relax completely —

but he can only hum, a little unsure. a little sad. 

”… okay. got it.”

perplexed, he tries his hand at another tactic. still so desperate to take care of you in whatever way you’ll allow, like always, but he thinks it’s worse now. even more desperate, after the fight you had, after seeing your frail, shivering self. resisting the urge to scoop you up and coddle you is a struggle.

”i can make you tea?” he tries, inwardly wincing at the way the words spill from his lips; uncertain, awkward. what a mess.

but you smile, slightly more genuinely this time, a soft little thing. it soothes some of the anxiety rotting through his ribs.

”tea would be great, thank you.”

you brush past him, warm towel still hanging off your shoulders. ”i’ll just take a shower in the meantime,” you murmur, and suguru can do nothing but nod, watching you go. 

he swallows thickly.

(that’s that, then.)

tea. right. what kind of tea? something warm, and soothing, and good for your throat. chamomile? peppermint? he’ll add a spoon of honey, just the way you like.

suguru’s mind spins in circles while his feet take him to the kitchen, hands swiftly rummaging through cabinets and getting the electric kettle ready. placing teacups and a teapot on the table, cute little floral designs he couldn’t help but fill your kitchen with. pouring hot peppermint tea into the pot, a strong scent drifting through the kitchen, drowning his senses in bliss.

caught up in his own head, losing track of time, suguru fails to notice you walking from the bathroom — stopping by the threshold of the kitchen, hesitant to make your presence known. a few silent moments pass. with a tiny inhale, mint invading your senses, you take a step forward. calm and sleepy, skin still pleasantly hot from the warm shower, hair still a little damp.

only then does suguru notice you, his gaze drifting to your figure as if instinctively drawn to it.

you’re clad in some comfortable sweatpants, and an oversized hoodie — his hoodie, the one with the unreasonably soft texture, the one you tend to gravitate towards — the one he likes to see you in the most, because you always look so thoroughly comfy in it. almost drowning in the fabric. 

seeing you all warm and cozy, in his clothing no less, sends a tremor of pure warmth running through suguru’s chest. sprouting in his heart and spreading throughout his entire body. he can’t bring himself to resist the soft curl of his lips, gazing at you so fondly he’s almost sure you notice it.

”i made peppermint,” he says, a little breathless, already pouring boiling tea into two cups on the table. ”that okay?”

”yeah,” you answer, instantaneous. stifling a yawn. you’d have been fine with anything, really.

the shower worked wonders for your muddled mind; chasing away the shivers down your spine, that unpleasant chill to your skin. most importantly, it gave you a moment to simply relax, to bask in the peace and quiet. feel the hot water surround you, melt your bones like softened clay. you feel a little better, now. still anxious, more than a little sleepy, but better. and right now, that’s all you need. 

with a groggy kind of pep in your step, you stumble over to the kitchen table, plopping down on the chair across from where suguru is sitting. trying to get comfortable, knees pressed against your chest, muttering a soft thank you while gingerly touching the rim of the cup.

(suguru frowns, just barely, at the sight. usually you’d sit right next to him. but now you’re in front of him, so very far — as if you’re strangers.

it breaks his heart, a little bit.)

a soft hum leaves your lips when you take a sip of the tea — all warm and comforting and minty on your tongue, a vague taste of something sweet. it’s relaxing, more than anything, and it makes you feel a little more okay with everything.

suguru only watches you, drinking absentmindedly from his own cup. not really tasting anything.

finally, he opts to clear his throat — and your attention falls on him instantly.

”hey,” he starts, ready to address the elephant in the room. his voice is gentle, but decisive, firm somehow. ”about before…”

your body tenses, ever so slightly, fingers uncurling around the handle of the teacup. there’s a kind of shift in the air around you, in suguru’s tone of voice — and you were expecting it, waiting for it anxiously, but that doesn’t make it any less harrowing.

here it comes, your mind seems to sing. here comes the moment everything shatters again.

with as much strength as you can muster, you smile. a little sheepish, just a tad forced, refusing to meet his eyes from across the table. staring into the murky green of your cup and hoping in vain that you can somehow escape this discomfort. 

(you just want to rest. you just want to not have to think about anything.)

”it’s fine, suguru,” you cut him off. softly, but there’s a certain tilt to your voice that strikes him as rather cold. ”we can just drop it.”

the decision in his eyes doesn’t waver. you look meek, awfully troubled, and he hates to force you into another discussion when you’re undoubtedly tired — but suguru’s mind is set. he’s been evasive enough, today.

”no. i want to talk about it properly.”

at that, you seem to deflate a little. suguru is nothing if not stubborn, a quality that always manages to coexist with his gentleness, his desire to be a good partner for you. you can tell he won’t allow you to wriggle away, now that you’re both finally calm. he’s not doing it to exhaust you, not doing it to gain some sort of satisfaction out of ”winning” the argument — he’s doing it because he knows it’s the right thing to do. even if it makes you both a little uncomfortable.

communication is important, immensely so. suguru knows it very well.

and you do, too.

so all you do is curl into yourself, shifting in your seat, allowing him to speak his mind and sipping quietly on your tea. biting back a disgruntled huff, gaze lingering on the tablecloth, little calico cats etched into the fabric. he wanted one with yellow stripes, but still bought this one just for you. just like the ugly matching couple mugs you forced him into buying, the green colour of your kitchen wallpaper. he always places you before himself.

(all you wanted was to change that. just for a night, if nothing else. and he got mad at you for it.)

suguru sighs. it sounds fatigued, not frustrated or disappointed. he runs a hand through his hair, and you can’t help but follow the movement, the soft silky strands and the way he smooths them over. practiced, familiar, absentminded. you could watch him do it forever.

”i had a lot of time to think while you were gone,” he begins, recalling the mental gymnastics he went through while you were away. just sitting on the couch and running himself ragged, trying to be impartial, trying to see your point of view without letting his own bias get in the way.

you sink a little further into the chair, eyes downcast. inhaling the scent of peppermint, trying to prepare yourself for what he might say, the ways this could all go wrong.

”and i realized that you were right.”

…

you blink. once, then twice.

hesitantly, you raise your head, searching for suguru’s gaze. he isn’t looking at you, staring out at the rainfall through the window as if in deep thought. his gaze shifts to meet yours, and something soft flickers through his golden eyes.

he looks troubled, though. trying to find the right words, mind clouded by guilt. chewing at his bottom lip anxiously.

it takes him a moment to gather his thoughts, to weigh the words in his mind, just to make sure he gets them across as smoothly as possible. he’s had more than enough time to verbalize his feelings, to think about what he wants to say to you. it was all he could do while he waited. 

so his voice is earnest, when he continues, sincerely apologetic and thought out.

”i’m always telling you not to overwork yourself. and here i am, doing the same thing…” another sigh. ”you were just worried. i shouldn’t have lashed out — you didn’t deserve that.”

suguru searches for your gaze, and manages to find it. you falter a little under the weight of his eyes, but they’re warm, remorseful. a setting sun.

”i’m sorry.”

a moment of silence passes. then two. three, five. you look down at your cup, the purple hyacinths etched into the porcelain. crumbling under his gaze, at the sound of his genuine apology. 

and suddenly, you feel silly — silly for being so scared, for thinking suguru might still be angry with you. for thinking he wouldn’t spend as much time as needed to properly think about your words, your feelings, even if he might not have been ready to do so when he first heard them.

suguru can be stubborn, if he’s convinced that he’s in the right. but he always, always seeks you out eventually, always makes sure to genuinely look at things from your perspective. 

and, really, it means everything. it means enough to wash away all your leftover irritation, from having him brush you off when you know you didn’t do anything wrong. all the leftover sadness from being pushed away, from not being allowed to take care of him the way he always does for you.

suguru isn’t perfect, but he tries harder than anyone you know. tries his very best to be as close to perfect as he can possibly get — for you, for the both of you. he’s considerate enough, mature enough to take the time he needs to properly communicate. that’s how much he loves you. 

and yes, doing so makes you a little uncomfortable. but when faced with something like that, someone so kind, who loves you like the rain loves the ground — how could you ever bear not to do the same?

”… it’s fine,” you start, softly. ”maybe i overreacted a bit. ’s just —” a gulp. you’re trying your best to verbalize your feelings, the way suguru just did, the way he always does.

and he waits, patiently. for as long as you need. looking at you from across the table softly, already immensely relieved at the lack of tension in the air.

”i don’t like seeing you so tired. i know that your work is important, and i support you, but…” your voice goes quiet, as you trail off, hoping he’ll understand what you mean. ”you know.”

and suguru does. he does understand, he always will. so he hums.

”i know,” he murmurs, softly. ”it wasn’t an overreaction. i just didn’t realize it myself. got too caught up in everything,” a sharp exhale leaves his lips. ”it’s been… a long week. i’m not using that as an excuse, though.”

you listen attentively, eyes softening at his words. you can tell that he means it, that you finally got your message across. all you wanted was for him to take a break, to take care of himself.

to let you take care of him.

suguru continues. he makes it a point to look into your eyes as he speaks — a little intimidating, especially in a situation like this — but you know it reassures him, that it lets him know you really understand what he’s trying to say. 

so you hold his gaze, as steady as you can, glancing down at his collarbone when it becomes just a little too much.

”i’m grateful that i have you,” he says, voice dripping with softness, gazing at you with a fondness that has you crumbling all over again. ”and that you care enough to set me straight when i need it.”

and suguru means it. he means it more than anything else. not once has he ever stopped appreciating you, all the things you do for him; always so sweet and caring, even when it’s subtle. this was no exception. you’re always worried, always looking out for him. he feels awful for getting so defensive. for pushing you away, when you were trying so earnestly to reach him.

but he’ll make up for all of that, starting now.

”i mean it. i appreciate you so much, you have no idea — i’m so sorry if i made you think otherwise.” for a moment, his eyes look a little glassy, swimming in remorse. ”i really, really am.”

(and when he looks at you like that, when he speaks so very gently —

how could you ever bear not to forgive him?)

you shift in your seat again. gazing down, chewing at your bottom lip. his honesty makes you falter, makes it hard for you not to do the same; even if your voice ends up sounding awfully tiny and awfully close to breaking apart. 

”… i was just worried,” you mumble, meekly, shooing away any tears you have left with rapid blinks. 

”i know,” suguru soothes. the smile on his face is genuine, comforting, honey and peppermint and warmth. ”i was being immature. you were right — i’ve been burning myself out.”

you don’t say anything. only letting his words console you, feeling yourself relax at the sound of him opening up a little. just enough to make everything all better again.

”i was thinking of taking tomorrow off,” he continues, searching for your timid gaze and smiling gently once he finds it. ”what do you say?”

you brighten a little, so obvious in the way you sit up straighter, the way something soft and hopeful blossoms in the scope of your iris. the sight coaxes suguru’s patient smile into widening a smidge, his eyes crinkling at your barely contained excitement.

”that’d be nice…” you murmur, averting your gaze once more. but suguru can tell you like the sound of that, that it’s exactly what would finally put your anxious mind at ease.

a smile, bright and fond. suguru opens his arms. 

”then i will.”

for a moment, you simply stare. at him, his outstretched limbs — that soft smile, as he waits for you to get the hint. and you blink. 

oh. 

you look down at your lap. a little sheepish, almost shy. it takes you another moment to raise your head, again, only to see another gentle flicker in suguru’s eyes — and then you finally get up from your seat.

it feels a little strange. a little awkward, as if some of your bones still can’t help but tread on eggshells, afraid of making him upset again. but it’s suguru, and he loves you, and his arms are waiting patiently to hold you.

and you want that more than anything. 

so you fall into his arms, softly, curling up in his lap and wrapping your arms around his waist. suguru has one hand on the back of your head and the other on the small of your back, rubbing comforting circles into your spine to make you relax.

it works wonders. despite your initial hesitance, you melt into the embrace without putting up a fuss — happy to be in his arms again, to feel the anxiety dissipate when you realize that everything’s finally alright.

and suguru is just as happy, just as content. breathing out a sigh of relief he didn’t know he was holding. he strokes your hair lovingly, and you nuzzle into him a little more; making his lips quirk up, eyes filling with adoration. finally, he can relax. having you in his arms feels so soothing. and you’re so sweet, curling into him, seeking comfort and warmth that he’s more than happy to provide.

how long has it been since he had a chance to hold you like this? he made sure to be affectionate whenever he could, before leaving for work and after coming back — but in the midst of all the paperwork and stress…

suguru sighs, a little sadder this time, watching you bask in the attention he had been robbing you of this whole time. without even realizing it.

”and i’m sorry for neglecting you, too,” he murmurs, barely above a whisper. muffled by your hair as he presses a kiss against the crown of your head.

that certainly gets your attention.

”neglecting me?” you sputter, eyes suddenly wide open and lips parted in disbelief. flustered, heat rushing to your neck and ears. ”wha — what am i, some high-maintenance puppy? you didn’t neglect me.”

suguru only chuckles, biting back a soft coo that he knows would only fluster you more. instead, he pulls away a little, just to look at you, and pecks your forehead softly.

”well, i’m sorry for not being around much, then. i’ll make it up to you. okay?”

hiding away in his collarbone, again, you mutter a soft okay that has suguru’s heart squeezing in his chest. he cradles you close, engulfs you in his embrace, and hopes you can feel his love through the action. hopes you can feel it in the way his arms fit around you like they were always meant to be right there.

and you do feel his love. feel it smooth away the leftover turmoil in your brain, caress your skin softly. it’s soothing, and comforting, and you feel so incredibly safe. here, in suguru’s embrace, with the sound of rain hitting the window and the scent of peppermint wafting through the kitchen — it’d be impossible not to relax.

before you know it, your eyelids have fluttered shut, breathing softening out and heartbeat slowing down. a peaceful rhythm, carrying you away. suguru notices it before you do.

”you sleeping, baby?”

you jolt a little in his arms — murmuring something unintelligible into his neck, and he only chuckles, the sound rumbling through his chest like a soothing thunderstorm.

”c’mon. let’s get you to bed, hm?” 

suguru smooths a hand down your back, arms tightening around you before he scoops you up and gets up from his seat. ”there we go,” he hums, helping you hike your legs around his waist. ”you can sleep, angel. i’ve got you.”

your arms tighten around him, and you inhale his scent; grounding and comforting, raindrops and roses. tomorrow you can bask in it properly, can take care of him properly. you’ll coddle him all day.

but for now, you need to get some rest.

allowing your senses to dull away, clinging to suguru like a makeshift pillow, you absently listen to the storm still raging on outside. faraway, cold and harsh, but comforting when you’re in his steady grasp.

a yawn escapes your honey-soothed throat.

you don’t miss the i love you murmured into your ear, accompanying you into dreamland as your eyes flutter shut.