#and that it wasnt his fault to begin with so how could you fault him ETCCCCC yap yap yap

[miami2k17]

for some reason the first time i played this game i didnt give af thinking about how cliff choosing to spare john was him forgiving him and saving his life one last time but damn that got a little kick to it

[theamberparadise]

JEFFREY WOODS THIRSTS

Includes three NSFW drabbles. read at your own risk.

TWs; mentions of mass murder, bloodplay, p3r10d s3x, reader using a kn1f3 handle to m45turb4t3, m4k1ng 0ut with an injured tongue, little mentions of nipple play, use of b1tch, s1ut, wh0r3, etc., heavy degradation, reader l1ck1ng blood off of Jeff's knife

A/N; uh oh uh oh uh oh uh oh

(Personal headcannon of mine that Jeff laughs/giggles mostly instead of moaning in bed) (hes fucked up ik)

After a crummy but successful mission, Jeff comes back to his room inside the mansion, only to find you on his bed, legs spread open, fucking yourself with the handle of his knife. He doesn't take it lightly.

It was an act of desperation.

He was away for so long-- too long.

So technically, this was his fault.

His fault that you snuck inside his room, looked for the closest object to being phallic, and chose his knife.

(The handle, of course. You weren't going to shove a literal blade inside you!)

You sat on the bed legs ready and spread wide open while your fingers gripped Jeff's used blood-soaked hoodie you stole from his laundry basket up to your nose.

Your panties were long forgotten and discarded on the floor, whereas your shirt is lifted up above your breasts. Your nipples were stiff and sensitive, given that your nubs were rubbing against the red-splotched hoodie while you began tribbing your clit onto the tip of the knife's handle.

Soon enough you were pulling the handle in and out of you vigorously, and you can only do so much as to bite Jeff's hoodie to muffle your moans while your free hand squeezed and tugged at your nipples.

Your legs were shaking, shaking, shaking. And every sudden jerk had your g-spot fluttering against the grip.

You were drooling all over yourself at this point. Every drop of your slick since you started made a big puddle of wet onto Jeff's bed. Small spurts spray from your cunt here and there, but you hold it in just like Jeff would make you every time you two would meet.

It wasnt long until the sounds of stomping and arguing that seemed to be aimed at Toby made you excited.

He was angry. And this was good.

You knew Jeff didn't have much to take his frustrations out on in this cursed mansion, so you offered a little gateway for his anger, and that lead to a three month fuck-buddy relationship.

You didn't mind, of course, it's going so well lately. Free dick whenever you wanted, and there's nobody to stop yo--

"You puttin' on a show for me, sweet'eart?" a gravelly voice that you know all too well rasped out.

You eyes shot open to see Jeff himself-- leaning on the door on his side, his head tilted while he closed the door behind him with his heel.

"What, cat's got your tongue?" he mocked, breathing in your fucked-out form.

He leaned in, seemingly to get a better look at you. "That my hoodie, babe?" Licking his lips, walking closer to snag the fabric from your teeth. He looked at you up and down, moaning at the sight of his knife handle being shoved inside the prettiest pussy he had ever seen.

Your hand was still holding the part where the blade meets the handle.

Your slick was everywhere. On your thighs, your fingers, even a part of the blade. You can feel Jeff's eyes burn into you as he started rubbing your clit while the knife was still inside your cunt.

"Fuuuck, baby girl," he groaned out, palming his own crotch. "Y'know, little twitch down there almost fucked up the whole shit-show," you whine at the contact, his rough finger pads circling your aching nub.

"And I've got a lot of... package... to sort through." as soon as you heard those words, you begin to pull out the knife, before earning a slap to your face.

"Uh, uh, uh. Since you decided to be an impatient little bitch today, you're gonna finish what you started." he removes his thumb from your clit and you whine. "But--" And before you could protest, he suddenly chokes you and angles your face to his. It terrified you, how his icy blue eyes bore into your very soul, and the sound of his wound ripping little by little as he smiled big and wide. Yet, more of your slick seeps through your cunt.

"Dirty sluts like you need to be taught patience and respect," he grips your throat tighter, leaning in closer-- so close that you can almost see his every intention.

"You will ride this fucking knife while you watch me jack off, until you squirt all over this damn floor three fucking times until you're damn near limp, before I fuck you into oblivion again and again," His grip tightened even more around your throat, you swear you could see stars.

Your cunt is a mess by now. Every deep echo of his voice is responded to by a flutter of your pussy, sucking in the knife handle that you were trying to remove further and further inside you.

Jeff slaps you again, and you moan. "Nod your head. Nod your pretty little head, pretty thing, show me you understand." he giggles maniacally under his breath, eyes crazing into yours.

With a half-assed effort, you bop your head up and down, whispering quiet little yes's from your front teeth.

"Good girl," He cooed in an awfully sick manner. He unbuckled his belt and pulled down his shorts while you gasp and cough at the sudden intake of air. Jeff stepped back a couple paces before starting to pump his cock in front of you. "Go on then, sweetheart," he chuckles once again. "Get to work."

You were a little too desperate during your period, and Jeff happens to be looking for a little distraction.

He had only gotten back from a stroll to ease his bloodlust when he heard you whining and begging to yourself from the kitchen inside of a little privacy hut both of you shared outside the mansion.

Jeff had only approached the open door with a few steps before he could see you bent over the sink-- seemingly filled to the brim with dishes from last night and soap suds. Your shorts and panties were both down to your ankles, drops of blood continuing to stain the fabrics.

Jeff grinned. You were giving him a show. He could see that your middle and ring fingers were ramming in and out of you repeatedly, making those blissful squelching sounds from both blood and cum.

Your cunt was covered in them, fluttering and spasming around your digits as if it was an invite for him.

And before you knew it, he shoved his cock inside you without warning, and you screamed out of pure ecstasy.

You had been craving for sweet release since yesterday, and you were so grateful that Jeff was so very kind enough to give it to you.

"Good morning, pretty girl," he giggles. "You waitin' out on me?" a few tears escaped your eyes while you nodded frantically.

"Poor baby-- all desperate and covered in all this delicious blood, no wonder you're crying," the smell was like heaven to Jeff, and the fact that it was your own blood that's being spilled, he's on cloud nine.

It only took one or two begging grinds from you before he started pounding mercilessly into your bloody cunt, causing you to writhe and scream with every thrust. Your heart thumps with every laugh he makes, eyes rolling into the back of your head while his tip abused your womb.

"Bleed for me, shitty fucking slut. Shit, you're fucking gorgeous like this."

After committing a family massacre, Jeff thinks it's sexy watching you get sprayed in innocent people's blood, and it's even sexier when you lick it off of his knife.

It was gnarly. All of it.

Poor family didn't have to die, if only they kept their fucking mouths shut.

The sight was rather horrifying to see. Well, for a normal person anyway. This was just another Tuesday for you.

But that couldn't explain how you got to the point where you and your partner were basically eating each other's faces out.

It all started with a cheeky compliment from him after you complained about being drenched in blood. Then a compliment from you, then from him again, until you both got a little too close and were all over each other.

Hands were everywhere. And soon enough, you were naked under him, the couch squeaking under both of your weights.

Jeff was shirtless too, only his pants were still on him and even that was unbuttoned. His cock was rock hard and he was too horny to even move to a real bed.

His teeth bit and prodded at your nipples, pulling them just right, making you grind your bare cunt against his thigh for some contact.

Both of you were absolutely drenched in blood. The red liquid was enough to seep through your clothes and stain your bodies.

Your tits, stomach, and thighs were covered in red. So is Jeff, his faint abs were glistening in blood, dripping down, down, down until his happy trail.

You were so turned on it was ridiculous.

The top of your head was against the arm rests of the couch, Jeff's knife was looming over you while his forearm dug into the same arm rest.

It wasnt until a drop of blood from his knife trickled down your forehead that you notice this.

Jeff felt your jerk and looked up, seeing his blood drenched blade making a mess on your face.

"Shit, sorry--" he grumbled a half-assed apology and tried to take the knife back and place it on the coffee table before you catch his wrist, pulling it closer once again to your face.

"Wait," You breathed. A mischievous smile slowly crept up on your lips. "Let me clean that up for you, baby," You opened your mouth with the most tempting pop! from your glossy lips, before lolling your tongue out fully, stretching it out to the bloody blade before running it from base to tip.

Jeff shivered. Then moaned.

You kept going, giving his knife little kitten licks while giving him the most precious puppy eyes, your eyebrows curling in planned lust.

Jeffrey quickly reached down and started to vigorously jerk his cock off, precum already dripping onto your pussy like icing. The sound of his wet dick was enough to make you whine like a dog.

Your tongue traveled to the edges of the sharp side of the blade, being careful enough to not split your tongue into two, but firm enough to get it clean.

His breaking point was when you gently pulled his gripped hands even closer to you, your tongue pressing onto the tip of the knife, making you moan like a whore when you feel the sharp point lightly scrape your tongue, drawing out a thin line of blood.

Jeff was drooling on you. And his hands worked harder and harder until he threw his head back, cock bursting with cum at the sight.

Without warning he threw the knife across the room, making clangs before colliding his lips onto yours, teeth clashing at the contact. You can feel his tongue enveloping yours, savoring the taste of your blood.

When you were out of air, you separated, leaving only a long, nasty string of spit connecting you two.

"That was fucking hot," Jeff moaned in your ear like he was in heat. "You're fucking hot."

You grinned, flashes of blood still staining your teeth. "Oh yeah?" you chided. "Come prove it to me then, motherfucker."

He's ready to pounce on you. "Right back at ya, bitch," And with that, he smashes his lips onto yours once again, and it doesn't take a full hour until the house you two broke in were filled with screams that aren't only in pain.

[irl-w0lverine]

October 14th - quicksilver (smut)

Pairing : peter maximoff x reader

Warnings : MDNI!! DO NOT READ IF YOUR BELOW THE AGE OF 18!!

P in v, unprotected sex, peter talking you through it, no aftercare, human vibrator

A/n: im actually really struggling to write the rest of the fics, this is literally meant to be out tomorrow at the time of writing

DO NOT BLAME ME FOR WHAT YOU CHOSE TO CONSUME, ITS YOUR FAULT IF YOU READ FURTHER

Peters room was the go to hangout area for the two of you. It was usually the right temperature, he'd have a stash of snacks (of which were mainly twinkies), a few warm blankets for those cold nights you stayed over. It was always perfect.

That leads you to this night. Peters head was resting on your lower stomach as both of you were watching some crappy movie, mindlessly playing with the hem of your shorts.

You could feel his shoulder pressing against the one spot that had been aching for him all day. Every shuffle from him, you have to stop yourself from squirming, trying to get more pleasure from it. Surely he doesn't feel the same way.. Right?

"hey, you ok?" you hear peter ask you, your head giving a small nod, adjusting your position. Thats all you needed for a small whine to slip past your lips.

That stupid damn smirk. Of course he has that stupid damn smirk after hearing that.

"what was that noise?" he scoots up, his elbows proping him up so now his face is mere inches away from yours. His stomach putting pressure on the area you needed him to, causing you to squirm slightly.

"..nothing..?" you knew he wouldn't let it slide. His warm breath was hitting your face, his lips oh so close to touching yours.

"bullshit" before you even registered it, his lips were on yours. You couldn't help but kiss back, your hands going to his hair and pulling him closer.

✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭

After a few minuets of making out, he begins to slip your shorts down your legs, kissing your thighs as he did so.

"god... Your gorgeous.." he groans, not waiting a second to rip his sweatpants off. He was so hard it looked painful, it looked like he would rip open his boxers.

With a blur, he's alright inside of you, his lips against your forehead.

"someones excited huh?"

"cant help it that ive waited this long" he chuckles, pressing his lips against yours once more but this time hes slower, beginning to thrust.

He starts of by being gentle, not wanting to use his mutation to its fullest extent just yet. He was pepering you with kisses anywhere he could reach, nuzzling his face between your breasts.

"you dont have to go soft on me, y'know? I can take it" you huff, getting a bit frustrated at the lack of speed from the guy that is literally known for speed.

"sorry princess" he chuckles "just dont wanna hurt ya'"

With that, he begins to speed up, his hands massaging your hips and thighs.

Not even a few minutes later, hes going x10 faster, his face burried in the crook of your neck. You had never thought he'd be the typa guy to whimper but he is definitely disproving you now.

His hips move in a blur, bringing you to the edge way faster than you'd thought.

"... Ugh... Keep doin' that... Please.." you whine, hands pulling his hair and your lips leaving sloppy kisses on his shoulder.

"wasnt plannin' on stoppin'.. M' pretty girl" his nails dig into your hips, his cock twitching against your walls as they begin to close in on him.

"AHG! Fuck... Shit" he grunts, his seed painting your walls white. His thumb sneaks down and rubs your clit, sending you over the edge and cumming around him.

"... Holy shit..." he huffs, his sweaty body collapsing onto yours.

"... That was amazing.." you tell him, only to realise hes fallen asleep cuding you.

A/n : sorry for how rushed and poorly written this is! Jaytober is kinda making me loose motivation especially since i dont have much free time to do it anymore and my mental health just loves to take a head first dive into depression

Thank you so much for reading! <3

[icallhimjoey]

Almost, Always

♥ ♥          Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader 

Summary: Happy endings aren't for everyone, so it seems, but that doesn't mean that you can't stop trying for one. Question is, are you actually star-crossed lovers that can figure something out, or just absolutely blind to reality and really fucking stupid?

CW / disclaimer: rpf, fem!reader, language, adult themes, cheating

Author’s note: so, i got a request from the lovely @lfdybadgirlsdiw that i wasnt able to let go and now, here we are, the beginning of a new five-parter! enjoy! lmk what you think, thanks! <3

Wordcount: 5.7K

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

The first little crack.

“No, that is your side. And this should be mine.” Joe argued, arms flailing, gesturing at both sides of the bed as he stood at the foot of it.

The first little crack of many.

“Joe. I have always slept on this side,” you said, already in bed, tucked up and all cosy, barely able to keep your eyes open still.

If you hadn’t been aware of how much Joe had been pushing to get his way lately, this could have come across as playful banter.

“Listen. If we’re going to establish actual sides, you should be furthest away from the door.”

But given how Joe had been making you feel after compromising, after giving in and meeting you halfway, no one would think this was funny.

“Why?” you closed your eyes and nuzzled into your pillow, not even slightly bothered by Joe’s pleading who desperately wished you’d roll over to what, up until now, had been his side of the bed.

“For… just, because.”

“Hmmno.”

“For danger. What if a burglar gets in?”

You sighed. Deeply. Sank into your pillow more. It was the kind of breath released just before you were about to doze off, and it was meant to signal that you weren’t going to engage in this discussion any longer.

“Can we talk about this tomorrow?”

Joe could go and lay on his side of your bed, or he could go and sleep on the sofa, and that was that.

“Babe.” Joe tried to give you a little push, but the way you’d wrapped yourself up proved you needed more than just a slight shove to end up where he wanted you.

“Hmm.”

You were bone-tired, already all sunken into the mattress, ready to go visit another planet for a good few hours.

“Babe.”

You opened a bleary eye to see Joe still look just as awake and ready to win this argument as he was when you’d closed your eyes.

“This flat won’t get burgled.”

“You don’t know that. Might have someone kick in the door tonight, and, then what? Hmm?”

Something cute about this need to protect you, and you knew that’s what he could dress this up as, but the timing of it was so God-awful, you couldn’t see past the fact that you wanted to fall asleep on your own side of the bed already.

“Think of it this way,” you started, holding a stretched hand out that Joe easily took, knees pressing into the mattress as he towered over you for a minute. “In case of a fire, I’ll be the first one out.”

And just like that, Joe let himself fall into the empty spot next to you, seemingly giving up and giving in.

Good.

“A fire is much more likely than a burglar.” You concluded, word slurred and eyes closing again as Joe got his legs underneath the covers.

“That’s not as good but…” Joe thought for a second, then said, “If a fire breaks out here, it’ll be from that old hair thing of yours. That thing you use that smells like it’s melting.”

“See?” you mumbled, disagreeing, but happy to let sleep take you.

“Or because you leave an empty pot on a burner again.”

“Mhm.” Little less happy. You only did that once and it wasn’t even your fault.

“Or because–” 

“Joe.”

A short moment of silence followed.

“Fine,” he whispered, adding, “for now.” on the back-end of a deep breath. 

When you woke up the next morning, you were on Joe’s side of the bed.

“Morning.” Joe smiled, just beyond pleased that he’d gotten his way by moving your unconscious body across the bed in the night.

You gave him the blankest stare you’d ever given someone, which was easy because you’d only just opened your eyes, sleep still causing enough confusion to fully comprehend why Joe seemed to be awaiting a response.

You tutted and rolled your eyes when his expectant smile only grew.

He had rolled your defenseless body over in the night. What the fuck, actually. And this idiot thought he was being all cute. Was reaching over to take your hand into both of his, to pull it to his mouth where he gave it a small kiss.

“You’re such a child.” You pulled your hand from his grasp and turned away from him as you sat up.

“What?” Joe feigned indignancy, his smile too big to sell it to you properly.

“An actual child. This isn’t funny.”

“Oh come on. It’s a little funny.”

You got up and out.

“Babe.”

You ignored him. Walked right past him.

“Baby.”

The first little crack.

“Oh, come on!”

The first little crack of many.

Friday. End of a long day a long week of whirlwind work days and awful nights of sleep. It’s the wrong time of day for this.

“A flat white for…”

Autumn. Rainy, cold weather that your wardrobe’s not caught up to yet. It’s the wrong time of the year for this.

“Joe?”

You can give yourself a stern talking-to later about how most of the day had completely passed you by in a blur, but you hear the words flat white and Joe and are immediately more in tune with the world.

You look up from your phone in the queue to see Joe step forward and take his drink.

“Thanks.”

It takes a slow second for you to realise it’s really him. A slow blinking moment of just looking at him, a tired mind slowly speeding up to real world tempo, before your brain goes, it’s him.

Oh.

Oh no.

You’re too tired for this.

Wrong place, wrong time, entirely wrong headspace.

The second he turns, you make eye contact for the briefest second which prompts him to do a comically exaggerated double take that immediately makes running into each other less awkward. You smile despite your mood.

God, you’d almost forgotten what he’s like.

It’s been a couple of months now, just over half a year, and the hurt has dulled enough that trying to be normal, and civil, and courteous, and polite, and kind shouldn’t be the most difficult thing ever.

That’s your ex-boyfriend.

You hope your face didn’t show how that first millisecond of seeing him struck you, but you saw him before he saw you, so you are probably fine.

That’s your too-kind-to-pretend-to-not-have-seen-you ex-boyfriend. Your somehow-still-really-happy-to-run-into-you ex-boyfriend.

And now you’ve gone and smiled at him, even though pulling up the corners of your mouth feels like exercising at the minute, you need a nap so bad.

You shouldn’t have left work early.

Shouldn’t have decided to go for a large coffee on your way home.

Shouldn’t have looked up.

Shouldn’t have even wanted to check if the flat white was for your Joe.

Correction.

No longer your Joe.

Just Joe.

It’s fine, it’s fine. There’s a whole new person in your life. It’s fine. But it would’ve been lovely if the universe could’ve waited until after you’d drank this large black coffee you are about to order, but of course that’s never how things work.

Stars are against you when it comes to Joe, apparently.

Joe could’ve left it at that. You’d had a moment of oh my god it’s you, what are the odds across a coffee shop and he could have easily waved and left. Have that be the whole interaction. That would have been fine.

But instead, Joe decides to stay, and he communicates with looks for a moment. With facial expressions and gesturing arms.

It’s a wild look around from Joe that tells you, what a weird time and place to see you! and a funny tired shrug from you in reply that tells him, life’s weird, what can I say?

You feel a little proud that you’ve not ignored him. That you’ve not pretended you just didn’t see him only to later contemplate sending him an incredibly lame “was that you getting a flat white this afternoon?” text that you’d regret the very second those ticks would’ve changed colour.

You’re working at 40% brain activity right now, and it’s a little difficult to use your social filter to pretend to feel any other way than you’re actually feeling.

Up until now that meant that your bad mood was everyone else’s problem.

Seeing Joe now, it suddenly means that you can’t pretend that you don’t immediately notice shit like how he isn’t wearing any of his rings. And how he probably wore something that covered his hair earlier today.

Wrong things to focus on, but a tired mind is difficult to keep in its lane.

You see how Joe checks his phone with a thoughtful look before he then nods as he puts it away. He gives you a questioning look as he points down.

You got a minute?

And you do the same; check the time on the phone that’s already in your hand and think of a million excuses to turn him down, but you only have the gym later, and that’s it. When you look back up, you give him a funny nod and a half shrug and you try your best to make your eyes look like you’re properly awake.

Yea why not, go on then.

You’re an adult running into an ex and you said you’d stay friends and you had really truly meant it then, so this is fine.

He looks a little too handsome for his own good, but it’s fine.

Joe waits for you. Hangs around near the bar at the windows and half-sits on one of the stools there, one foot still on the floor, more leaning than actual sitting, with his back towards the windows.

You try not to watch him, but you can’t help but notice the way he lets his eyes scan the room for a minute. The way he looks over his shoulder as his eyes dart across the street.

It occurs to you how quickly the checking you used to do for him stopped after you broke up. After you left his world. It’s a little weird how, here, in the same coffee shop, in the exact same location, you’re in entirely different worlds from each other, and the closer to you get to the end of the counter, the more they overlap.

It’s one of the things you haven’t missed.

When you step into earshot properly, after ordering, you make eye-contact and smile at each other.  

“Hello,” Joe makes his voice go up and down, like he’s just as pleasantly surprised to see you as you do him, but you’re trying to not make it so obvious. “Fancy seeing you here.”

You smile and grab his arm for a second as a hello, rather than going in for a hug. “Hi.”

“Hi.” Joe smiles right back, and takes the touch of his arm as enough of an invite to hug you anyway.

You ignore the flicker of worry you see across his face, the slight twitch in his eyebrows, just before his face disappears from your view and all you can really focus on is how Joe smells.

All right.

Jesus.

Joe smells like that little hidden bottle of his old cologne that you still have, and it’s like being transported back into your old life a little. The life that you tried to hold onto with all ten fingernails until they all chipped and broke and bled.

When you step back, Joe smiles all warm, eyes fully fucking focused on you, like he’s glad he can just look at one thing instead of having his attention with all of his surroundings.

Not a hint of worry there now.

God.

You’ve missed him.

Miss him still.

You know that he can see how tired you are. That the slight concern that flashed across his face was only there because of how you weren’t fully opening your eyes after each blink.

“Nice shirt.” You comment, doing your best to keep the ice broken and not let it freeze back over.

Joe looks down at himself and grins wider. He’s wearing a shirt he only got because you said you liked it. Which, you still do.

“Thanks. You look good too.”

Liar.

What follows after warm smiles is warm small talk by the end of the counter until your coffee’s ready. He asks how you’re doing. What you’re up to. Remembers something specific that you had coming up at work ages ago, something that’s now long passed, and Joe wants to know how it went.

“My God. All right, Mister Memory.”

Charmer. He’s basically interviewing you.

“Oh, sorry. Is that weird? I’m being weird. Sorry.”

“A little. But… um…” you have to really think about that for a second. “Yea, all of that went fine.” you guess before your brain finds the right memory and you give him a slightly more certain, “Great, actually. Yea. It was good.”

Joe smiles. Nods. Looks like he’s really fucking pleased for you which is almost funny because you remember a time where your work hours were mostly an inconvenience to him.

“I should be asking what’s going on with you!” you chirp, and Joe just shrugs. Jokes, “Nothing much. Quiet life. Sort of boring, you remember what it’s like.”

You laugh. It’s out of you before you can stop it.

Fuck.

Joe has no business making you feel the way he is right now. You’re tired and in actual need of comfort. It’s dangerous to be around someone who knows how to give you what you want. What you need.

Your coffee gets placed onto the counter, and there’s this awkward moment where you now have your drink and maybe this is the moment where you go, Okay, was good seeing ya, bye! and dart out the door.

But instead, Joe grabs you by the arm and nods towards a table where someone’s packing up. “Come on, let’s sit.”

And just like that, you’re being lead over to go and sit down with him.

You take the biggest gulp of hot coffee before you sit down, definitely burn your tongue, and are already thinking of ways you can explain this to others. What if someone sees you? If someone gets a sneaky pic in?

You’re not doing anything illegal, obviously.

And it’s not like you went to this coffee shop on purpose.

You hadn’t meant to run into Joe.

But now you’re taking your coat off and so is he and you both have hot drinks to warm your hands and Joe pulls in his chair real close and asks you a bunch more questions about work, and your family, and he says he heard you traveled, which you did, and he’s making you laugh, and yea, you’re tired, and you keep suppressing yawns, but the coffee is helping a little, and it’s nice to sit, your limbs are thanking you for it, and Joe is acting like you meet up for coffee all the time, like this is normal, and you almost start believing it, he’s being so friendly and casual, until he suddenly leans over the table, both elbows on the faux marble surface, ducks his head down a little before he says, “Is this the time we... where we talk? About what happened?”

It catches you off guard, a little.

You don’t want to talk about what happened.

You kind of don’t even want to be talking to him at all if you really think about it. Not because you don’t like it. Despite that, actually. It’s lovely talking to Joe. That’s precisely the problem. You didn’t break up with him because you stopped liking him.

The longer you look at him, the more nice things you’re remembering about him. The more you start thinking about what could have been.

So you don’t respond for a moment, and then you give a half-hearted shrug.

“We don’t have to.” you say quietly, almost absently.

There’s not enough brain space available to you right now. This is the type of conversation to have five years down the line, after a long holiday where you’ve managed to catch up on sleep and… you know… when you look well rested. Tanned. Satisfied with life.

Not now.

You could carry all your essentials in your eyebags right now if you really tried, you think.

Joe just smiles at you. Watches you for a moment, head tilted back a little, chin jutted out.

“I mean, is there anything left to say?” You’ve pretty much said all that needs saying. Everything else is implied and doesn’t need to exist in the world, you think.

The two of you didn’t work out because it simply didn’t work out.

Joe seems to disagree.

He twirls his paper cup, his flat white, and raises his eyebrows a little. Makes you hold your breath at what he’s about to say next.

“Weird if I tell you I miss you?” his voice is all soft as he asks you, almost breathy, like he knows the effect it will likely have on you.

You let your head drop to your shoulder and grimace, eyes squeezing shut. “Oh my God,” you blurt out, and you sound like you’re in actual pain.

“Sorry, sorry. You’re right. I’m sorry.” Joe immediately back tracks, but this motherfucker is smiling. Blushing. He makes eye-contact with you as he goes for another sip of his coffee and then looks at his hand placing the cup back down as he adds, “You’re right. No need for me to tell you. So I won’t.”

He’s already said it.

You try your best at hiding a smile as you mirror Joe, going for a sip of your own. When you place yours back on the table, Joe can hear from the hollow sound of it that it’s empty.

“I, em…” you start, hand reaching for the back of your neck where you rub at your skin, a little awkward now that Joe’s said that he misses you. “I should probably go. I’m meeting…ugh, it’s– someone.” You cringe inwardly, try to do it so Joe doesn’t see it. You could’ve lied and said you’d be meeting Emily, but it’s a thought that comes to you after you’ve already been weird about it.

And Joe knows you. He sees you cringe inwardly just fine. Sees you rub at your neck the way you always do when you’re tired. Remembers all the times he used to take over and you’d fall asleep within seconds.

Joe knows that if you’re as tired as you look, there’s no thinking before you speak.

Someone.

Joe nods.

So there’s someone.

He bets this someone doesn’t know shit about how you like the back of your neck massaged, fingers in very specific spots, pressing and rubbing into very specific pressure points.

You resist the urge to rub your eyes. Rub your neck instead.

He sees that too and, in turn, tries to hide the sudden, protective wave that washes over him so you don’t see it.

He’s lucky you’re too worn out to catch his twitching hand that wants to reach out and replace yours.

“Sorry for making it weird.” Joe is still smiling, and you don’t want him to think that what he said is the reason why you’re suddenly done talking to him. You really are meeting someone. That’s not something you made up to round up this interaction.

“No, no. I’ve got–” you check the time, and you have so much of it before you have to be somewhere, but Joe doesn’t need to know that. “I’m meeting someone to go work out with.”

Joe raises both eyebrows and widens his eyes, the playful shock there clearly visible.

“At the gym.” You finish, and you scrunch up your whole face in a full grimace, because you know what he’s going to say.

“At the gym?”

“At the gym.” You confirm, finding your coat whilst your eyes remain in contact with Joe’s.

He sits back, a little baffled. A little… proud.

“She goes to the gym. Wow.”

You hate the gym.

You hate working out in general, but doing it in a gym, indoors, on machines? You really fucking despise it. Still. You’re going. Trying to put your best foot forward in this new relationship you’re trying out with this new person in your life.

Joe knows you hate the gym. He remembers the countless times he’d told you to just come with him. Come work out with him at his gym. He also remembers the countless times you’d told him to fuck off and that you’d rather die.

Something something personal development. Whatever. You’re fucking exhausted but, you’re trying, all right? Progress.

“That reminds me, actually,” you say, struggling to make your arms find the sleeves of your coat. “I still have your pumas.”

You say pumas like it’s meant to be a dig at him.

It is a dig, in your opinion. His old faded Speed Cats, these two feminine looking things. Fucking purple too.

The very second Joe learnt that you didn’t like them, still don’t, he started wearing them extra often.

Little shit.

“Oh my God,” Joe says softly as he huffs a laugh through his nose and closes his eyes for a joyous second. “My pumas.”

“I found them on one of the top shelves of the wardrobe.”

“I…” Joe narrows his eyes at you in suspicion, smile unwavering. “What were they doing there? If I remember correctly, that’s not where I left them.”

You know that’s not where Joe left them. That’s where you left them. Hid them. So he’d be forced to buy new shoes. Different shoes. Which he then did, so, it all worked out fine.

You give an innocent shrug as you get up, slow and sluggish, arms still not in the sleeves of your coat properly.

“No,” you sigh, feeling how bad your legs want you to go and sit back down. “But that’s where I found them.”

Joe laughs heartily and then, like you’re not two people who went through a painful break-up, also gets up and helps you into your coat. Holds it and guides your arms where they’re meant to go. Folds the collar so it sits how its meant to. Lets his hands linger there for a fraction of a second too long, but it’s nice.

It’s nice having Joe close.

“If you’re not doing anything right now,” you start, but stop because you’re already regretting where your mind is taking you.

You want to have Joe close so he can rub the back of your neck when you sleep.

No.

There’s someone else.

You can’t.

Shouldn’t.

“Oh, do you mind?” Joe is quick. Easily takes the step you hesitated to take.

“Well, they’re your pumas.”

You’re not sure how he does it. How he keeps this air of normalcy. Like inviting himself over to your flat to come and pick up a pair of shoes is all casual and fine.

It’s not.

And yet somehow, it is.

The familiarity that’s still there added to the amount of time that’s passed somehow makes this not feel like the wildest thing, even though you know that if you tell Emily that Joe came round to pick up his stinky old trainers, that she’d worriedly ask you if you were okay.  

The worry would be misplaced, because you’re actually totally fine.

You’re fine as Joe leads you from the coffee shop, opening his umbrella and offering an arm for you to link yours through, just so you can share the protection from the rain, no other reason.

You’re fine as Joe doesn’t need to be told where to go, obviously knows where you live and the quickest way to get to it.

You’re fine as Joe says something about the bakery near your flat that he used to go to all the time, and when he looks inside he squeezes his arms to his body in a silent moment of celebration, involuntarily squeezing you closer to him.

You’re fine as he makes you laugh when he pretends to be normal about baked goods, shrugging and clearing his throat and softly murmuring that you didn’t just witness him get excited over coffee cake that he’ll definitely get on his way home.

You’re fine as he keeps you from tripping up because you’re not really lifting your feet enough for your shoes to not get caught on the uneven pavers of the wet London streets you’re braving together.

You’re fine as you make your way into your building, where you share the small space of the lift together, and you lean against one of the side panels and can see in the reflective surface of the doors how Joe’s giving you a soft smile.

You’re fine as you let Joe into your flat, where you leave him momentarily to go get his shoes from your bedroom, and when you come back, he’s discarded his coat over one of your dining room table chairs, has already gone and turned down the thermostat, and is looking at one of your bookshelves near the TV.

“Found ‘em.” you say, holding them up before placing them on the table near his coat.

Joe throws you a look over his shoulder, smiles, but then goes straight back to scanning book spines. Like he doesn’t care about his pumas at all.

“You read this?” he picks up a book, turns around so you can see which one he means as he reads the blurb on the back.

You’re too busy staring at the visual of Joe in your messy living room, wearing the shirt you chose for him, to answer the question.

Too busy letting your eyes focus on his hands that you want in a very specific spot on the back of your neck right now, because your body remembers exactly what that feels like and you’re tired.

“Did you like it?”

Joe is in your living room and… it’s actually not fine.

Joe is wearing a shirt he only got because you liked it, and it’s not fine.

Joe is holding a book and you can see how large his hands are and it's not fine.

Joe confessed that he misses you, and you’re not fine.

Fuck trying to mold yourself into someone that goes to the gym for this new person who pales in comparison to your ex-boyfriend who kept you close and walked you home and who just took off his coat like he’s going to stay for at least a minute and who you can just be yourself around. You don’t have to pretend to care about working out, or about an untidy living room, or about your hair that’s frizzed up from the rain and... isn’t that just lovely?

Your lack of answers eventually makes Joe look up at you, and oh… you look like you’ve fallen asleep standing up, eyes slightly distant and unfocused.

“Hey, you okay?” the book Joe’s holding finds a new home on your coffee table as you blink a couple of times to bring yourself back into reality.

It doesn’t really work.

“Yea… yea, fine.” you say softly, your expression unchanged, eyes still just as glassy.

Joe doesn’t buy it.

Knows you.

Sees how you’re watching his hands. His fingers. Knows exactly what you want.

“You sure?” he steps closer, a little hesitant, because what even really is he doing here? He doesn’t want those ratty old shoes back. He thought those had been thrown out ages ago, well before the two of you got even close to considering not being together as an option.

Joe watches you stare into space for a moment, and sees you blink so slowly, you might as well just keep your eyes closed at this point.

There’s not a chance you’re going to be meeting someone at a gym.

Joe walks across the room until he’s right in front of you, and he stays there until your eyes slowly rake up his body and you’re looking each other in the eye.

He knows what he’s doing here.

You know what he’s doing here.

Joe watches you raise a slow arm up to let your own hand touch the back of your neck as you inhale deeply through your nose.

Joe smells nice.

“Can you, um…” you pause and frown, and let your deep breath escape you in a sigh, not finishing your question as you rub your fingers where you want Joe to rub his.

You don’t need to finish your question.

Joe knows you.

Knows he probably shouldn’t do what he’s about to do, but finds he wants to and so, why the fuck not, you know?

He grins, but only slightly, and uses both his hands. One to remove your own hand from your neck, the other to grab hold of it there, where he pushes his thumb right into the dip at the base of your skull and starts to rub in small circles.

It almost works like an off-button.

Joe knows it does, because it always has.

He has to grab hold of one of your arms to make sure you don’t topple over. He ignores how he feels your whole body shiver.

“You’re not going to the gym.” Joe says gently.

“Mhm,” you hum, not even sure if you’re answering a question or not.

Joe smells so nice. Familiar and comforting and just, lovely.

“I think you’re going straight to bed.”

Joe barely has to guide you. The smallest of pushes just makes you turn and walk straight back over to your bedroom where your wardrobe doors are still open from fetching Joe’s old trainers, and you vaguely think how Joe shouldn’t be in your bedroom with you, but… he is, and so what?

You try undressing with heavy limbs, jeans a little clammy and difficult to take off. You do most of it with your eyes closed and wait for Joe’s hands to come help you out. But they don’t come, and it’s a little confronting how that disappoints you.

It’s something to think about later though.

Joe came over for his shoes and is now just making sure you don’t trip and bash your head on something. That makes sense.  

But then, Joe hands you one of your own folded pyjama tops from one of the drawers and you can’t help but let a tired laugh escape you. You sit down on the edge of your bed and take it from him with dropped shoulders, head hanging to the side as you look up at him.

This is so stupid.

“Sorry,” Joe says a little sheepishly. “I just… remember where you keep things.”

“No, no,” you yawn before you add, “It’s fine.”

It’s not fine.

“I’ve missed you too.”

So stupid.

But again, it’s all something for later. Your leading with your wants right now. Not rational thought.

It’s want that reaches for Joe’s hand after you’ve put your pyjama top on.

It’s want that whispers, “Take your shoes off.”

It’s want that sits and stares at Joe with half-lidded eyes as he undresses until he’s in his underwear.

It’s want that asks if Joe can put his hand back on your neck where he had it before.

It’s want that lets you be scooped up and placed into your own bed, on the wrong side, furthest away from the door.

It’s want that doesn’t give a shit about where you are in your bed, because all you care about is that Joe’s there, and he is there when he climbs into bed right next to you and lays behind you on his side, not entirely big-spooning you, but if he just got a little closer...

Then he softly asks, “Is this okay?” and holds you by the back of the neck again which makes you whine into the pillows.

Joe is allowed any spot in the bed he fucking wants.

“There you go,” Joe says softly, and he suppresses a smile as he feels how you relax.

It’s the wrong place, the wrong time and absolutely the wrong person.

You logically know this.

You’re going to have some explaining to do tomorrow.

You know there’ll be missed calls.

There’ll be hurt feelings.

There’ll be guilt.

You know it’s all wrong, but it’s hard to let your rational mind make smarter decisions when it all feels so stupidly right.

You’re not doing anything illegal.

Joe said he misses you, and it took a little time, but you said it back. You miss him too.

Joe decides to stay awake until you fall asleep, and maybe he’ll take a short little nap himself too before he goes to get himself some coffee cake, he’s not sure yet.

He has to stop himself from shaking his head at the fact that he can tell just by the way you’re breathing if you’ve fully dozed off yet or not.

It shouldn’t take long. You’ve barely been able to focus your eyes on anything from the moment Joe saw you in the queue of that coffee shop.

Just before you drift off, Joe feels how you slowly turn around to face him. How you scoot a little closer. Then two smaller hands find his forearm, and Joe lets you wrap both arms around his bicep. Lets you hug it to yourself, which involuntarily makes his hand rest on one of your bare thighs.

Joe’s hand is warm, and his touch his gentle, and it fucking makes your eyes sting.

There’s something about being in bed with a man that makes you feel safe and protected and like you can actually sleep.

It’s not like that yet with who you’re seeing now. These are the things that take time. Hence how fucking tired you currently are.

Have been all day.

All week.

“Yea,” you suddenly whisper, and it’s so soft, Joe wouldn’t have heard it had he not been so close to you. “Miss you.”

You tighten your arms around Joe’s which makes his chest ache, and finally let sleep take you.

Joe smiles.

You said you miss him.

He knows you do.

Thinks that maybe you don’t have to.

What if there’s a way back?

He’ll find a way back. He knows he can.

“Yea,” Joe repeats, and decides taking a nap in your bed on your side is actually the best fucking idea he’s ever had.

“Miss you too.”

---

The Taglisted

@alwayslindie, @babybluebex, @capricornrisingsstuff, @chaoticgood-munson, @cowboymcflurry

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@emotionaldreamer, @everythinghasafacee, @ferfan14, @figmentofquinn, @ghost-proofbaby

@gri959, @hanahkatexo, @hazelenys, @jewellethief, @joesquinns

@keikoraven, @kennedy-brooke, @lovelyblueness, @loves0phelia, @mandyjo8719

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@tlclick73, @werepartnersnow, @witchwolflea, @yunirgo

add yourself

[avocado-writing]

Could I request headcanons for Astarion, Gale, Wyll, Halsin, Dammon, Rolan, and Zevlor react to his gn crush confessing to him while obviously waiting for rejection?

absolutely my love, here you go!

Astarion

Is not surprised you’re confessing (he knew how you felt it wasnt subtle lol), but is surprised that you seem so defeated about it

sort of annoys him? Upsets him? Of course he’s going to feel the same way, how can you think so little of yourself? He’s of the opinion that you’re wonderful. it’s so easy to fall for you.

but then he hesitates: he knows how easy it is to think poorly of oneself. He can’t judge you too harshly.

takes your hand, tells you that you’re lovely, and invites you out for coffee the next day. just the two of you. his heart skips a beat when you light up.

Gale

admires how courageous you are. can see you’re shaking as you admit your feelings.

”why do you think I wouldn’t feel the same way? you are one of the most spectacular people I’ve ever met. Anyone would be lucky to have you. I’d be lucky to have you.”

smiles when he sees how you start to grin, puts his hands on your waist and brings you in for a kiss.

if you’re a magic user dancing lights erupt from you because you’re so overwhelmed ✨

Wyll

Oh, sweet Wyll. Gobsmacked that you think he’d turn you down.

takes your hand and guides you somewhere where the two of you can be alone.

when you have your privacy he asks if he can kiss you.

you feel heat rise in your cheeks but nod, and he gives you the most astounding first kiss you’ve ever had lol

then he takes you out for dinner and holds your hand across the table the whole meal

(when you’re together properly he makes jokes the whole camp was asking “wyll they won’t they” about the two of you and you groan lmfao)

Halsin

another one who takes you to a private place to talk.

brushes your hair out of face and then cups your cheek in the same gesture, begins to wax poetic about how perfect the oak father made you and how you are without fault.

has echoed your feelings for a long time now and is glad you made the first move which takes a lot of the weight off your chest

he scoops you up in his big arms and swings you around until all the worry is gone and you’re laughing 💕

Dammon

his heart hammers in his chest when you tell him. he’s only a blacksmith!!!! he doesn’t know how to handle this!!

I imagine you confess to him while he’s working at his forge so that not all of his attention is on you, it’s better to soften the blow when he says he doesn’t feel the same.

puts his tools down, takes off his gloves, and holds your hands. tells you he’s admired you for a long while and is glad you feel the same.

you squeak when he kisses you but his soft touch keeps your grounded ❤️

Rolan

is offended how nervous you are (you don’t find him THAT intimidating do you?! He’s been trying to be nice because he likes you!) - and also a bit annoyed because he’s been working up the courage to confess for ages but you got there first

”Good, I like you too >:(“ “you do?” “Yes >:(“ “then why do you seem so grumpy about it?” “I’m not grumpy! >:( >:( >:(“

you kiss him on the cheek and he’s so flustered he loses control of the spell he was transcribing and magic missiles his office window to pieces lol

Zevlor

this is a battle of the least self-confident lol. you’re like “I don’t think you like me” and he replies “my dear you have so many better options than me”

so it turns 180, with you convincing him that you do like him and listing all his merits!

eventually youre at a stalemate. and then you just kiss each other, trepidatious at first and then getting more passionate as you relax 💕

[minimiance]

Sunday was an awful, awful angel. He was cruel, uncaring, and he had a stupid smile on his face all the time. Like he thought he was better. Like he KNEW he was better.

And watching the people around you begin to whisper awful things about you. About how Sunday had told them you were a wicked, mean person. You couldn’t help but feel a sinking feeling of despair. How were you meant to face this? He was a public figure, one of absolute authority and power that you could never hope to speak against.

So you go to him with tears in your eyes, asking how you could have ever possibly made him view you as so awful and wicked. “You’re undignified, unruly, quite honestly a bit airy in the head, and mouthy. Is that enough reason?” He smiles at you the entire time, tilting his head at the end of the question while watching fat tears roll down your cheeks.

“How do I… fix that…” you mutter through hiccups and sniffles, almost crying more when he coos at you and gives you a hug. Petting your hair as you went to full blown sobs. “It’s ok, just listen to what I tell you to do. I’ll always guide you properly. It’s not your fault you’re so stupid.”

He had sent you on your way, and the rumors and awfulness of those around you only got worse. You went from lazy to attention whore in their eyes. Clinging to Sunday and every word he speaks like gospel. Without so much as an approving glance your way.

You would cry awfully, not able to talk to those around you and not wanting to confront the man who had deemed you as a vile person again.

And you grew angry, though with that the talk got nastier. How awful you were. Being called for an audience with Sunday only for him to berate you for twenty minutes until you were a sniveling mess again was just awful.

In fact, the talk only seemed to vanish when you clung impossibly close to the man. In his quarters everyday, bringing him teas and snacks and not bothering to pay attention to the others.

It was easier that way. When you paid attention to the others you always found them saying awful things about you. When you were with Sunday it was like none of those rumors existed. And so you were like a personal assistant, telling people when he wanted an audience with them, bringing him foods and drinks, organizing things for him, anything he asked.

It wasnt hard to fall into the routine either. He was such a kind guy, he only ever told you when you did something wrong afterall. Your posture, your manners, your tone, what you were wearing, things like that. And you would always change it to fit how he said you were best. Because clearly he knew best.

He was handsome too, easy to look at. So of course it wasn’t long until you fell into his bed.

Sunday was a selfish lover. He would make sure you finished of course. But everything he did was with his own entertainment at mind.

Leaving you overstimulated and limp by the end of most nights. But he kissed you so sweetly afterwards, wiping you down and cuddling up to you. The next morning you would be pawing at him again, begging for more once again.

You were selfish in your own ways too. Sunday never seemed to mind when you were sat next to him, gripping his arm and glaring at whoever had come around to talk to him. How you would refuse to talk to them and bury yourself further into the man as he would laugh and apologize for your behavior with a dismissive attitude.

You don’t even really know when you began living with him.

Somewhere between his hand stuffing your face into some pillows as he calls you a mangy stupid mutt and the times where he thrusts into you slow and sensual while saying it was fine that you were stupid, because you were his.

Because you are his. No one else could ever fuck you the way he does. With a calm smile and a feral look in his eyes, pounding into you and rubbing your nipples. Sucking your neck and biting his claim all over you. And you babble insistently about how amazing he is. How perfect he is, how much you adore him as you pet his hair back and out of his face while he pounds you into a mating press.

He calls you a stupid little doll. A pretty pet. A cute accessory. Leaves you fucked out and drooling and laughs, making a comment about how he didn’t know you could get any dumber.

But it’s ok that you’re dumb. Because you’re his.

Forever and always.

——————

AN ACTUAL FULL FLESHED FIC??? FROM ME??? WOAH….

also hes TOXIC pls do NOT idolize him… anyways hes my idol :3 hope you all enjoyed lemme know what u want nexf!!

[wlwanakin]

could you explain to me in your opinion what exactly saw padme in anakin to fall for him? in aotc it came like out of nowhere after three days knowing him, anakin then commited tusken genocide and padme was ready to forgive him despite her strong sense of justice, to me it just feels very off and diservicing to her, how wasnt that a deal breaker for her

i’ll gladly explain!! and i’ve spoken briefly about how i view padmé’s reaction to the tusken massacre before, but i’ll elaborate here too.

i think the key things to remember when looking at anidala from padmé’s perspective are a) love is by nature pretty irrational so you’re never gonna be able to fully rationalize padmé’s love for anakin, b) padmé is a deeply lonely person in a career that requires her to distance herself from others and sacrifice authenticity, c) padmé met anakin when he was an enslaved child and she was a teenaged queen dealing with an unprecedented crisis and he played a key role in solving that whilst showing her extreme kindness and selflessness, and d) as of the beginning of aotc, padmé has just narrowly escaped death and lost two of her devoted handmaidens who she also considered to be her friends. these are the big things informing her mindset and her perception of anakin throughout the film.

i think one thing that trips people up even before they go to tatooine is that anakin is just weird in aotc, but the thing is that that’s what made padmé fall for him. she’s been in politics since she was a child, and politics is a field that requires inauthenticity by default, and in padmé’s case that’s to an extreme degree because she spent her teen years putting on the queen amidala persona and the anonymous handmaiden persona, then the minute that was up she became a senator and senator amidala is not as dramatic a persona but it is one nonetheless because politics and diplomacy require that. her entire life since she was fourteen has been spent playing roles, surrounded by others also playing roles, and she’s a severe workaholic working under a sense of moral obligation so unlike some people in the same field might she doesn’t really have a life outside of this. and here comes anakin, who she’s already fond of because of the kindness he showed her and her people when he was a child, and he’s so unlike any of the people she’s surrounded by because he is earnest to a fault. he’s socially stunted, he’s abrasive and combative, he doesn’t give a shit about niceties or diplomacy, he says every weird thing he thinks before he even finishing thinking it, and can you imagine how refreshing that must be to someone whose entire social life is just her staff and fellow politicians who are all inauthentic by nature? and on top of how appealing that is on its own he’s also hot, and he still shows that he cares for her, and he gives her space to be authentic as well. he jokes with her, he speaks openly about his emotions and gives her room to do the same, he treats her like a person rather than a figurehead. it’s a perfect recipe for romance, really.

so it’s important to note that, for all these reasons, she was already in love with him before they even left naboo, and that informs all her actions throughout the last half of the film. it’s also important to note that she is carrying the guilt and grief of cordé and versé’s deaths on her shoulders as well as all the strange emotions that come with a near-death experience. and that’s the mindset she’s traveling to tatooine with, knowing that anakin might be on the verge of a monumental loss himself. and then the worst case scenario happens and she does see him grieving, and she understands to an extent what it’s like to experience a loss that feels like her fault. it’s the opening scene of the film! so she sees his volatile grief and that doesn’t scare her off because his vulnerability and depth of emotion are part of what drew her to him in the first place since she is someone who has long been denied access to such vulnerability. and all this gives her immense grounds to sympathize deeply with him by the time he confesses to the massacre.

i guess i kind of understand why people think her reaction to anakin’s confession is a bad character moment or a disservice or whatever, but it’s actually one of my favorite padmé moments for a lot of reasons. it makes sense to me that under the circumstances padmé would underreact to the crime being confessed. she has a strong sense of justice but she also loves anakin and understands what he’s feeling, she knows him and knows his immense capacity for goodness because she’s witnessed it, and above all she is an idealist. she is driven by immense compassion and that is something that can be misapplied and it isn’t inherently virtuous. she can look past anakin’s crime because she sympathizes deeply with the emotions that motivated it, and because she knows him well enough to know that he isn’t defined by this level of cruelty and she has no reason to believe he’ll make a habit out of it considering the remorse he’s expressing, and quite simply and selfishly because she loves him. it isn’t a morally upright moment for her but it doesn’t have to be because this streak of hypocrisy she has is really interesting and makes her feel more human than if she was just a paragon of virtue.

so after that really crazy week? week and a half? geonosis happens, and this is padmé’s second super close brush with death in like a month, and her love confession comes in a moment right before what’s supposed to be an execution because of course you’re gonna grab life by the tits if you only have like five minutes of it left. and near-death experiences are very perspective shifting things, and she just had two super close together and anakin just had one right along with her and is about to be shipped off to the chronic near-death experience that is Fighting In A War, and she is very madly in love with him and he is the only person she can be herself around, and after all that and lifetime of repressing and sacrificing her entire self for public service she says fuck it and lets herself have this one selfish thing and marries him. and that’s really all of it, nothing was a dealbreaker because padmé really truly loves anakin and almost died twice and also almost lost him and he gives her something no one else ever could and she wants that. and after the whirlwind she just experienced she’s gonna take it.

and even with all this aside i think it’s important to give padmé as a character space to be irrational because she is, at the end of the day, a character, and not a real person or even an audience insert. and she’s a character in a shakespearean space opera on top of that, one where an exorbitant amount of guys cope by doing mass murder. her love interest is one of those guys and he’s also constantly off his rocker about everything all the time, so why can’t she be a bit off hers too, yanno? anakin and padmé’s relationship is almost transcendentally intense, and that just wouldn’t work if the intensity weren’t on both ends. and padmé loves just as intensely as anakin does, it’s just more focused and less outwardly fiery. and her moral oversights are part of that intensity.

[dark-lord-of-awesomeness]

Could we get some more Dragon!Ford POV sometime? 🥺 I love how you write him and it's so intriguing to get to know what's going on in his head.

Sure! I love dragon Ford and his ability to logic away his insane behavior. Here's his POV from chapter 2!

Ford grumbled as he followed Fiddleford through the castle hallways, eyes locked onto his Stan's wriggling form. He didn't look happy to be tucked under his friends arm, which was understandable. Fiddleford had very uncomfortable metal limbs, nothing like Fords own warm, very strong and protective, scaly claws. Really, he should be the one carrying his Stan around, much more comfortable and safe.

He'd let it go for now. Fiddleford was his friend after all, (and his servant) and therefore could be trusted to take care of his Stan. Plus Ford was still annoyed by his Stan's insistence that he wasnt himself, like six fingers were a normal dragon had.

Eventually they made it to the dining room, and Fiddleford set his Stan down on the chair at the head of the table, what used to be Ford's spot. His brother wasted no time in trying to jump up and run off, and he watched in amusement as Fiddleford grabbed him immediately and put him right back.

“Please don’t make this difficult Stanley,” he said, holding Stan’s shoulders down “Just. Sit tight here, and I’ll explain what’s going on.”

“Fine,” his Stan growled, as Ford came over to stand over him, “but it better be good! I lost my horse to this thing!”

You didn't lose to me, Ford growled back, it ran off. His Stan hunched down in his chair, arms crossed and glaring at Fiddleford.

“Alright, where to begin,” Fiddleford said, as he sat down on the chair to his Stan's left and set his arms down on the table, “Well to start, how much do you know about your brother’s research?”

“Absolutely nothing. Haven’t seen him in a decade.”

I'm sorry my Stanley, Ford crooned, setting his head down on one of his claws so he could gaze at his brother better, I promise, I'll take better care of you this time.

His Stan leaned away from him, resting his arm on the arm of the chair. Poor thing, all alone out there all by himself. Ford would do much better from now on, make sure no one tried to come and snatch him.

Fiddleford sighed, “ That's. Not great. See, Stanford was looking into the source of all magic, and it led him here. I won’t get too into the details, but the past year he’d been looking into breaking curses. He thought there was something here blocking the flow. And there was. And he set it free, leading to,”

Fiddleford waved his hand at Ford, and he huffed. It wasn't his fault Bill turned him into a dragon, he hadn't even known that was a thing Bill could do until it was already done. And Ford had been on the right track, before Bill got too sure of himself and showed his true colors.

“But before he went all scaly, he went into a… fit of paranoia,”

Do you really need to phrase it like that to my Stanley? Ford growled, even as Fiddleford glared back at him.

“Don’t get huffy! There’s no other way to say it!”

You could say I was being threatened! Ford growled, then he looked over at his Stan, willing his brother to understand his feelings. His Stan just glared at him, making those feelings even sadder. His Stan shouldn't be glaring at him while Fiddleford made exaggerated claims about what he was doing.

“Anyhow, the point is he sealed all his research into curse breaking and magic, along with his labs. No one but him can access it, and it’s not recognizing him like this. We’ve been a bit stuck to be honest.”

“That’s where you come in!” Fiddleford smiled at his brother, a large grin that his Stan seemed to flinch away from. Ford glared at his friend, then tried to move his head closer to comfort his Stan.

“OK, say I believe you,” his Stan said, leaning further away , “How am I supposed to get you through Fords magic mumbo jumbo. I don’t know anything about enchantments and crap.”

Well that was a blatent lie if Ford ever heard one. His Stan might not have grasped the more complex aspect of magic, but Ford had blabbered enough as children that his brother should have a rough understanding about how it worked.

“You don’t need to know anything!” Fiddleford said, excited, “See your blood-”

Ford blinked as his brother moved, vaulting over the side of the chair, scrambling over his claw (and his Stan was touching him! Willingly! A part of him rumbled in delight at the tiny points of pressure from his Stan moving across him) then started sprinting back towards the door. Ford watched him for a moment, delighted at seeing his brother look so alive, then used his tail to sweep across the room and gently drag his brother back to him.

Fiddleford had taken the time to stand up and walk over, grabbing his Stan by the back of his cloak and set him back in the chair. His Stan took a few deep breaths (and really, he must be terribly out of shape if sprinting such a short distance winded him) then tried to slide out under the table. Fiddleford, who hadn't moved, grabbed him again, lifting him into the air while his Stan flailed.

His Stan had always been slippery and hard to catch.

“You can’t have my blood!” he yelled, kicking at its chest and trying to push away, “I will not be a part of any more blood rituals!”

More? Ford perked up at that, eyes narrowing as he thought about what blood rituals his brother might have been involved in, before the conversation continued and he was distraced by his Stan kicking Fiddleford in the face.

“Blood rituals? What? No, I just-” Fiddleford frowned, then held his Stan further away so his legs couldn't reach. “There’s no blood rituals happening here. If I set you down, will you listen to the rest of what I’m trying to say? I don’t want to have to tie you to the chair.”

“Sure,” his Stan growled, glaring. Ford recognized the look, one he'd seen many times over the years as his brother lied and schemed to get out of trouble and do what he pleased.

His Stan was always so free, not tied down by the expectations of others. Normally Ford loved that about him, but right now he needed his Stan to at least pretend to listen to Fiddleford so that he could sneak him back to his room later.

He's going to try and run again, Ford grumbled, watching his Stan's eyes as they narrowed and scanned the room.

“I’m sure it’s fine Stanford, he just said-”

Fiddleford barely had the chance to let go before his Stan was gone, sprinting past him away from Ford. That wouldnt do, of course, his Stan should never be too far away.

Ford chuckled as Fiddleford tied his Stan to the chair. It took several attempts, and seeing the expression on Fiddlefords face everytime his Stan managed to wriggle out was priceless. His Stan had always been hard to pin down, even for Ford.

Eventually his friend managed to do it, tying both of his Stan's arms down and wrapping it around his chest so all he could do was kick his legs. He'd allow it for now, while his Stan was still adjusting to his new home, but once he'd gotten settled Ford would have some words with Fiddleford if he tried it again.

His Stan wriggled some more, then brought up his legs and kicked at the table, pushing the chair back into Ford's neck.

“Ha! Take-Ugh!”

So small you are, Ford crooned, as his Stan yelled and tried to pull away from Fords lick. His Stan was so dirty, and would need a proper bath at some point so that everyone could appreciate him better. Ford licked him again, trying to get his hair to curl nicely, then chuckled as his brother squirmed.

“Are you two done?” Fiddleford asked, sounding tired. His Stan scowled, then flinched as Ford licked him one more time.

For now, Ford clicked, but he'll need to wash up later, when we're done here. He settled his head back onto one of his claws, then went back to admiring his Stan's grumpy expression.

“As I was saying, your blood should be near identical, being twins, so hopefully it should unlock everything. All ya’ gotta do is put your hands on few things. No blood rituals.”

“Uhuh, just touch some stuff, and then I can leave?” Stan said, eyeing Ford. Ford smiled, watching his brother as he tried to free one of his arms from the chair. Fiddleford sighed, shifting loudly before resting his arms on the table and twisting his hands together.

“I’d love to send you on your way, despite your,” he grimaced, “delightful company. But Stanford’s not gonna let that happen, at least not while he’s like this. You should be free to go once we fix him.”

He's not going anywhere! Ford clicked, trying to shove his face into his Stan but only managing to bump the chair. It wobbled for a moment, before Fiddleford reached out and steadied it. Ford glared at the man, offended he'd think Ford would let his Stan fall over.

"Yes, he is Stanford,” Fiddleford said, “you can’t keep him here forever, and you won’t want to when you’re yourself again.”

Yes he would. Ford would keep his Stan with him forever and ever. He was His Stan after all, they were twins! There was nowhere his Stan was supposed to be than safely tucked into their home, where no one could come and snatch him. Being human shaped again wasn't going to change that.

“In the meantime,” Fiddleford continued, giving him a mean look, “we’ll set you up with some rooms and find something to feed you. We haven’t had, ah, human company in a while, so I’m not too sure what’s in the kitchen.”

“Wait,” Stan said, eyeing the Fiddleford even as his arms continued to try and wiggle free, “what about the knights, don’t you feed them anything?”

“They don’t need to eat,”

He doesn't need a room, Ford clicked, reaching forwards with his front claw he wasn't laying his head on and using it to drag his Stan closer, he's staying with me. There's more than enough room in the treasury for the both of us.

His Stan yelled, probably from surprise, then kicked his legs as Ford rested his chair against him.

“No, he’s getting a room,” Fiddleford shot back, sounding annoyed, “He’s a person, he can’t live like that. There’s nowhere for him to sleep in there either. And look at him, you’re freaking him out,”

“Hey! I’m not-”

Ford rolled his eyes, then turned to look at Stan fully. His Stan wasn't scared of him! They were brothers! There was nowhere safer for his Stan than right here next to him.

His confidence wavered as his Stan froze. His brother was staring at him with wide eyes, face pale and shoulders starting to hunch the longer they made eye contact.

Ah. He was afraid. Afraid of Ford.

It hurt a part of him he hadn't realized was capable of hurting. His Stan should never be scared of him, of Ford. Ford was his big brother, the one looking after him now that he was so small and fragile. Anyone who realized how magnificent his Stan was would jump at the chance to take him away, and it was Ford's job to stop that from happening.

But Stan didnt belived Fiddleford that he was himself, only saw a giant dragon who'd snatched him for a horrible reason and not the great reason Ford had. Ford wilted as his brother kept watching him, too scared to move. He crooned sadly, then looked away. Then he wilted more as he heard his Stan let out a sigh of relief.

He gently pushed the chair back, giving his Stan some space, then set his head back down on his claw. His Stan scowled back at him, and Ford knew he'd be crying if he could.

“I know you don’t like it, but it is what it is,” Fiddleford said, patting his snout.

I suppose, he chirped, watching his Stan sadly. Fiddleford kept talking, but Ford tuned him out, thinking. If his Stan was so scared, then he'd have to work on showing his Stan how trustworthy and safe he was. Show his Stan how Ford understood how special he was, and that there was no where he should be then right here with him. They had a truly grand home after all, with plenty of roaming space, a very impressive hoard, and several servants companions for his Stan to talk to and get socialization from, so he wouldn't get lonely.

What other dragons had this kind of set up? None of them. Because they were dead.

Eventually Fiddleford untied his Stan, and Ford followed them as his friend led them through the halls towards one of the upper rooms. His Stan asked several questions, eyed a lot of the different halls, and hummed noncommittally at all of Fiddlefords responses.

Ford had no doubt his brother would be out of the castle before morning.

When they finally got to his Stan's 'room' (and inwardly Ford scoffed. His Stan's room was in the hoard with the rest of Ford's treasures) Ford leaned down and inspected it as best he could. While all of the rooms meant for heavy traffic had been designed with dragons coming in and out in mind, most of the personal rooms had not. More than half of the castle had become inaccesbable to Ford after he turned into a dragon, and it irked him that Fiddleford would put his Stan in one of them.

Not that the larger bedrooms would have Stan sized furniture, but at least then Ford could come in and make himself comfortable.

He watched his Stan inspect the bedroom, then eyed the large window across from him. His Stan was scared of heights, but he was also the sneakiest and most cunning of all Stans. It was possible all the questions had been a diversion, and he'd show off how brave and wonderous he was by climbing out the window while Fiddleford was making dinner.

Part of him wanted to warn Fiddleford, make sure his Stan stayed nice and warm inside.

A larger part grinned at the thought of scooping his Stan up again, then sneaking him back into his room. There was a chance his Stan wouldn't get out after all, and while the thought of finding his Stan outside while it was starting to get cold out made him want to snarl, the thought of having his Stan all to himself in the treasury made a larger part of him grumble in pleasure.

When Fiddleford came back out to shoo him off to dinner, Ford only grumbled a little before making his way back to the treasury. He told one of the knights to bring him all the blankets and pillows from one of the unused halls, then quickly scanned his treasure for a Stan sized chest. It needed to be large enough for his Stan to spread out in, but still small enough Ford could curl around it while they slept.

He eyed a few of them, before finding one that seemed a good fit. Dumping all the gold out, he lifted it into the air and eyed the inside, scanning for splintered wood or rusted hinges. Finding nothing, he set it down on a pile of coins and stuffed it full of pillows and blankets until it was near bursting.

There. Much better than that other chest. That other chest was an embarrassment really, not nearly soft enough to hold his Stan like this one.

He nodded, then spread his wings and took of, careful not to knock over his new Stan chest as he made his way out through the back entrance. It was a series of caves Bill had repurposed to let his hoard of dragons fly in and out of the castle so they could drop all the gold they'd stolen directly into the treasury. There was only one exit, and all the branching pathways were booby trapped. It came out near the back of the castle, in the form of a vertical shaft Ford climbed out of that was surrounded by pitch black walls and had a single large balcony Bill used to stand on and watch all the dragons fly in and out of, as well as toss people into.

A grim history, but also the only way for Ford to easily get in and out of the castle, since the front doors were no longer usable. He'd sort of accidentally broke them from throwing Bill out so many times, and Fiddleford had to strain to push them open even a crack.

Ford climbed out onto the roof, shook himself, then spread his wings. He launched himself off and spread his wings, breathing in the cold air as his inner fire roared. The storm would be here, probably sometime in the next three or four hours. He'd have to fly to the closest farm, eat a cow or two (or three) then get back before it hit, scanning the road in case his Stan did manage to sneak out.

(And if he knew his Stan, he would. His Stan was so sneaky like that)

Aaaaand thats chapter 2!! Dragon Ford continues to be delusional and possessive! Plus an explination on how Ford gets in and out without using the front doors. There's just a big hole that leads down and then bends into the treasury. Intruders that tried to sneak in through it had to climb the castle walls, sneak past all the dragons and Bill, avoid all the false side paths, then huzzah! The treasure! That wouldnt leave the castle and was also littered with cursed items! Giving Bill even more monsters to command or people to laugh at as misfortune struck.

It occurs to me that i should probably put this on ao3 for those non tumblrs. Hmm. Look out for extended chapter 1 and this coming soon.

[noctunis]

hey!!! ive been reading your sephiroth fanfics recently and it has been such an intricate work of art i genuinely feel the emotion and love put into it, your writing is just perfect in terms of how you write his character! i was wondering if i could request a seph x reader maybe during or post advent children and is really angsty with some fluff regarding his return??? it's vague (sorry😭) but i know if you did take up on it youd do fantastic!! 💖🫶🏻

liberabo volucres 𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪

sephiroth (ffvii) x reader

┊ ˚➶ notes ｡˚ 🎼

omg you are literally so sweet!!!! thank you so much for this request, although i don’t think i did it justice 😭 i wasnt quite sure how to go about this considering after advent children, the remnants of seph faded into the lifestream (i think?) so it’s more angsty with lots of mentions of kadaj, but i hope you like it either way!! i’m glad you enjoy my sephiroth fics and don’t hesitate to send more asks!! love this one 💕

┊ ˚➶ warnings ｡˚ 🎼

mentions of kadaj and remnants of seph, written in a yearning type of way where you still have a hole in your heart left from sephiroth, don’t ask where you came from at the beginning!! just enjoy it 😭, intended lowercase, mentions of kissing kadaj’s forehead, lmk if i missed anything!!

┊ ˚➶ word count ｡˚ 🎼

1327 words, 7173 characters

. ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄

“cloud,” your voice only a faint whisper as you called out to the blond, “what did you do?” he lifted his head, his skin glossier with the droplets of rain falling on his face. his eyes widened at the sight of you, chest still rising and lowering rapidly as he recovered from his battle with sephiroth. how foreign that name felt on your tongue, now.

you got up from your hiding spot beyond the debris, knees aching from how long you were crouched as your feet slammed against the flat surface of the floor. you watched as your kadaj’s catlike slits for pupils— pupils that constantly reminded you that he was still apart of sephiroth, despite his role as being only a remnant of your lover— flickered towards you with whatever energy he had left. the corner of kadaj’s lips quirked upwards ever the slightest as you rushed over him, cloud moving out of your way as he stood up.

cloud’s words, albeit firm, lay dormant in your brain, “he was going to kill me—kill us all.” and even with his sharp tone, you didn’t pay him any mind. the only thing you could focus on was kadaj’s eyes trained on yours, scoffing as he rasped out, “such— a drama.. queen.” you softly shushed him, watching as his eyes became emptier by the minute. your throat stung as a choked sob threatened to escape its enclosure behind your uvula. kadaj lifted his hand only for you to grasp it, moist leather clutched in your palm as you placed it back to his chest. he intertwined your fingers, a wince leaving his lips as you held his head up.

it took everything not to look away from him. his hair, his eyes, even the way he smelled, reminded you of sephiroth. sometimes, you wish it had been different. you wish you would’ve been there when it had happened, and even now, your memory’s fuzzy of the events. all you remember was the day sephiroth left you, and you haven’t stop thinking about him since. you wished he had come to you, and apart of you was angry. maybe you were angry that he left you with no word, or maybe angry that instead of opening up to you, he decides to burn a village down in his spiral, or maybe you weren’t angry at all.

you paused, taking another look at kadaj’s furrowed eyebrows and his lidded eyes. you wonder if this is how sephiroth felt upon his notice of who he really was— what he really was. he was only in his twenties when it happened, you couldn’t have imagined how he felt. you remembered; his friends, gone and turned against shinra, and with all the pressure on him about the cover-up, you thought that maybe it wasn’t entirely his fault. you realized now, that you can’t get what you want from this world without taking it yourself. saying please didn’t scratch the itch in the back of your throat the way that anger did, and you assumed sephiroth felt the same.

clasping kadaj’s hand, he let out a weak sigh. you let your hand, although shaky and so weak that you can’t make a fist, card a piece of his hair out his face; your heart ached at your hands in his silver hair, mind racing back to when you’d brush sephiroth’s hair for him. a true honor, you’d always call it.

the way kadaj’s eyes widened and his ears perked up made you pause, like he was listening for something. even with cloud’s tense presence behind you, you refused to let go of the part of sephiroth, your part of sephiroth. the only part you had of him left. you couldn’t be angry at cloud. he was only doing what he thought was best— and in the end, maybe it was for the best, you thought. you couldn’t even be angry at yourself, your mind only clouded with grief as your sniffles and teary sighs filled the air.

the sound of kadaj’s arm moving, leather rubbing against itself, interrupted your soft cries as he lifted his hand up to the sky. a soft whisper of, “mother—?” left his lips.

your hand snaked up and you rubbed your thumb against his cheek, watching as he turned his head towards you slowly. a teary sound left your lips, you weren’t even sure if it was a sob or a laugh. but you leaned down, pressing one last kiss to his forehead as his eyelashes fluttered, just the way sephiroth’s did when you’d lay with him in the morning where golden rays would seep through the curtains and shine onto your beloved.

all good things must come to an end, you realized, as you watched the only physical evidence that sephiroth had coexisted with you fade into the lifestream, his arm fading into reduced crystallized mako. you closed your eyes, shoulders heaving as you tried stifling your thick cries; after all, cloud was still behind you. you held onto kadaj’s hand until it was no more, his body being lifted up and vanishing although you couldn’t bear to watch it. and you didn’t open your eyes, not for a long while, in hopes that maybe you’d be back in the comfort of your home as you heard heavy footsteps trail behind you to the kitchen, sephiroth’s content face across from yours at the dinner table. and you didn’t open your eyes until you heard a low hum, beyond the loud sounds of the rain hitting the concrete, beyond your own shaking breaths. this couldn’t have been cloud, you thought. your head lifted up and squinted so as to not get any rain in your eyes.

and there he was— or more so a faded version of him. even in the rain, you couldn’t help but gawk at him in awe, his hair flowing so gracefully even in the humidity of the rain. even if you were dreaming, you’d wish you would never wake in hopes of spending one last minute with the one you held dearest to your heart. one last moment with sephiroth and you’d feel like you’d finally be complete.

his eyes, still sleek and catlike how you always remembered, almost look amused. he held a smile at you, his head cocking at the sight. you didn’t want to think of the possibility that this was just a hallucination of your grief. this was more than that. sephiroth was more than that.

he gave you a nod, a nod of which you didn’t understand. ever so esoteric, you thought. the way he always was after nibelheim. you sat back on your haunches, your knees still against the wet, cold floor— taking one last look at sephiroth before he turned around. his head tipped back, fingers twitching as he let himself face the sky, until he finally let himself go and faded away as well.

your lip trembled, a teary laugh releasing itself from your throat until cloud put a soft, awkward hand on your shoulder. head turning to face him, your eyes met his. you realized now that cloud did what was best, and you couldn’t possibly blame him for that.

he cleared his throat, almost cautiously as if you’d snap at him for interrupting the silence, “we have to go. i’m sure tifa’s waiting for us.”

you sniffled, wiping your eyes from both the rain and the tears that littered your cheeks. looking back down at your lap, once where kadaj laid, you were met with emptiness. closing your eyes once more, you inhaled and let the air fill your lungs. the first deep breath of air that you’ve taken in what feels like years, one that felt fresher— almost bittersweet. and when you turned back to cloud, you gave him a firm nod.

the urge to be changed is not metamorphosis, you realized. you can’t be changed without making a change of your own.

[strwbrychffoncke]

''rockin' around the christmas tree,, 2.6k words synopsis: in your attempt to prepare a present for the twins, a misunderstanding ensues... contains: slight angst -> fluff! luke + kieran & f!reader (platonic!) ,implied sylus x hunter!reader (not specifically mc) ,reader is called "miss hunter" (by the twins) + "kitten" (once by sylus) ,mostly silly/maybe slight crack(?) ,lots of twins' shenanigans (i luv them) ,kind of linked to my santa baby fic (its mostly in the time that sylus was gone ,no they aren't on the trip w him ,try not to think ab it too much LOL) ,like one suggestive comment/moment (but its between you + sylus) ,twins being cute at the end ,that should be it note: (warning: unedited! so pls stand by....) this idea struck me while working on other fics, and as a result is the last to be released sigh.... but i like how silly it is i hope its enjoyable :x finally finished my mini event & i actually really enjoyed it (and am v grateful for all of the notes my self-indulgent writings have received ,so thank you v much !)

-

luke and kieran thought that a certain miss hunter was acting strange these days.

it wasn't uncommon for you to visit sylus, given your relationship, and as your relationship grew so too did yours with the twins, often indulging their antics, engaging in their banter, and sometimes joining in on their schemes against sylus (still sometimes resulting in you being on the receiving end of their pranks in the process).

they were more than well aware of their boss' fondness towards you, and they could say they shared the sentiment.

they thought you were close.

so, imagine their surprise when, the past couple of days, you seemed to be ignoring their existence altogether.

...bringing them to their current impromptu meeting with each other in the living area.

"it just doesn't make any sense," luke thinks aloud.

"have you done anything to anger miss hunter recently?" kieran tilts his head, looking straight at his brother through the crow mask.

luke scratches the back of his head.

"not anything that would garner this kind of reaction..." he trails off in thought.

"she didn't even tell us she was coming" kieran adds.

luke straightens up.

"right?! isn't that strange?? i mean, it's not like we're the ones that she comes for, but she still usually gives a notice! when i ran into her, it's almost like i was the one at fault when i didn't even know she was here in the first place!"

luke rants animatedly, hands flailing about to emphasize his words.

"and, and! it wasnt even my fault, she practically slammed into me. she barely spared me a word before darting away!"

he sighs, slumping back into the cushions.

a moment passes before kieran speaks up again.

"and we were just decorating with her the other day too...." he trails off before thinking aloud. "think we should ask the boss about it?"

"should we really bring it to him?" luke questions. "he may not even answer us. he's much more likely to take her side, don't you think?"

"yeah, not to mention it'd interrupt his business deal," kieran thought, tilting his head as he pondered a different thought.

"well, there's only one other option then," he muses.

despite being unable to see each others faces, they share the same look under the masks.

"we get to the bottom of it ourselves!" they exclaim in unison.

-

stage one: catch her off guard!

"when she's least expecting it, we'll barge into her space like we usually do, and watch her response!"

"miss hunter!"

dammit

you shove the bags under the bed as quickly as you can before the door to your room bursts open, revealing none other than the two troublemakers themselves, donning their usual crow masks.

"wh-"

"we wanted to check on you!"

"...why?"

"because," luke begins, "you must be lonely with the boss out on business so suddenly, right?"

"thats-"

"so we thought that we'd keep you company!" kieran finishes his thought.

"but i was-"

"don't tell us you were busy with something," luke chides.

"actually i was," you begin, gaze shifting between both masked men staring down at you.

"so go entertain yourselves for awhile, yeah?"

"sheesh! what did we do?" kieran complains animatedly.

"just.. leave me alone for awhile, i'm-"

"you don't happen to be working on something for the boss, are you?"

you pause, denial dying on your lips before thinking maybe this can work.

"as a matter of fact, i am" you nod. "so, if you will-"

"then we can help you!" they quickly cut you off, excited.

"actually, its not-"

"come on, miss hunter, let us help!"

"after all, who do think knows boss the best here?"

they look all too proud, and you want to smack them over the head.

you let out a frustrated groan before thinking of an excuse.

"why don't you help me later? for now, can you both just leave already??"

"ouch!"

"that stings, miss hunter..."

having enough of their dramatics, you finally get up from your spot and physically begin ushering them out the door.

"out, out, get out."

"ah- ok- stop shoving-"

"we're going, we're going!"

once they're out in the hallway, you begin shutting the door before kieran stops it with a hand.

"but later, you have to-"

"yeah, yeah, i'll make it up to you later, just leave for now!"

and with that, you promptly shut the door, their ears not missing the click of the lock.

they turn to one another, arms crossed over their chests.

"thoughts?"

kieran thinks it over for a moment.

"you definitely pissed her off."

"WHAT?" luke practically shrieks. "says YOU! did you consider that maybe your shabby job at decorating ticked her off???"

kieran scoffs at his brother.

"says the one who came up with the idea of most of them."

"you literally called me a genius."

"whatever, back on topic," kieran shrugs. "wasn't she a little too eager to get rid of us??"

luke nods along quickly, chain dangling from his mask.

"yeah! think she's hiding something from us?"

"could be.... this needs more investigating!"

they scurry off, preparing for the next step.

-

stage two: distraction tactic

"drag her away to do something with one of us while the other investigates!"

"miss hunter!"

your body gaze shifted from the snack in your hands up to the source of the voice.

"let's bake something!"

one moment, you're leaning on the kitchen counter, peacefully munching away at a small bag of chips while thinking over your gift plan and the next, your space is surrounded by various ingredients fished out by none other than kieran.

"what are yo-"

"we're making gingerbread!"

"...since when do you know how to make gingerbread?"

"uh, since now?"

you deadpan, trying to sidestep him.

"kieran, i really don't have-"

he follows you, reaching out to grip your shoulders.

"come on, don't run away again! can a capable hunter really not do something so simple as make some gingerbread?"

"of course i can, its just-"

"you're working on your gift for boss, yeah, yeah, this can be part of it!"

you blink at him.

"i mean... i guess?"

"great!" he exclaims a little too loudly, releasing you from his hold. "now, let's get to it!"

. . .

at hearing his brother's word, luke assumes he's in the clear.

he quickly and quietly makes his way down the hall towards your room (or technically, a guest bedroom, but it might as well be yours with you making yourself comfortable there, he thinks, but can't understand why you won't call it your own), checking the door before opening it slowly, looking both ways before he slips inside, carefully shutting it closed behind him.

he lets out a short sigh.

he flicks the light on, and the first thing he notices is that the room is in a bit of.. disarray.

there's various things scattered over the floor, some papers with scrawling on it spread on your desk, and your comforter on your bed is crooked.

he decides to take a peek of the papers on the desk first.

he doesn't move them, only leans in closer to take in what appear to be sketches with some messy handwriting off to the side.

were these.... masks?

luke tilts his head.

why on earth are you drawing out masks suddenly?

one of the papers seems to have a ribbon drawn out, and luke assumes that's your choice method to secure it around your head.

not too sure how well that'll work for you, he mutters.

he turns around, shifting his attention towards the items scattered around the floor.

there's a pair of pliers, some jump rings, what looks like string, super glue, beads, and rolls of ribbon spilling out of a plastic bag.

so miss hunter is the crafty type, huh? why would she hide this new hobby? luke thinks aloud to himself as he inspects everything.

thats when he notices a certain dress hung up on your closet door, standing out from some other clothes he now sees are sprawled messily on the floor surrounding it.

and then, he realizes.

"ah!"

he turns around, excited and ready to run out of the room when he hears the click of the door.

"miss hunter, wait!"

"hold on, i just need-"

he's frozen in his seat, barely registering the muffled voices behind the door before you open it, immediately locking eyes with him.

"luke???!"

"h-hey, miss!"

"what the hell are you doing in here???"

he stammers for a bit, unable to think up an excuse before he decides to just make a run for it.

he dashes out the space between you and the door, and is out of your sight within seconds.

you're stunned for a moment, looking over at everything, thinking about the look in his eye, and you're nothing short of mortified.

did he figure it out...?

. . .

that night, luke shares everything with kieran, and both being absolutely sure of having uncovered everything, begin to initiate step three.

-

stage three: confrontation station!

"trap the unsuspecting hunter and reveal that we know her secret!"

despite feeling embarrassed at being found out, you tried to carry on as usual while still avoiding the masked men when you could.

but somehow, you found yourself cornered once again, in the living area this time this time, stuck on the sofa as the twins stood above you as they blocked your view and any chance of escape.

"miss hunter!" they spoke in unison, a little too loudly considering their proximity.

you flinched at the volume of their voices, catching you slightly off guard before answering them.

"yes...?"

"ahem," luke clears his throat before pointing an accusing index finger at you.

"we've figured you out!"

oh no.

"listen, there's-"

"we know why you've been avoiding us!" kieran points as well, looking down at you behind his mask.

"i can-"

"you're planning to scare boss with a new mask and in a pretty outfit before apprehending and tying him up, aren't you?" they accuse in unison this time.

you pause.

"...huh?"

"we know everything!" luke folds his arms over his chest.

"yeah, so just give it up!" kieran mimics the action.

"..."

a beat of silence passes.

you're unsure if you should be angry at them for snooping or grateful for their shared braincell before you burst into laughter.

under the masks, the twins look at each other.

huh?

you're laughing so hard you tilt to the side, clutching your stomach as you sink into the expensive cushions.

so that's what they thought?

the twins gazes flick from each other back to you as you slowly calm down, catching your breath.

"so, that's what you came up with?" you finally speak again, wiping at your eyes that are threatening to spill amused tears.

"we promise not to tell boss!" kieran speaks up first.

"ye-yeah! we'll even record his reaction, if you'd like," luke offers, snapping back when his brother speaks up first.

you shake your head.

"no need, you two are wrong anyway," you tell them, standing up from the sofa.

"actually, you'll get to see it soon enough."

"really?!??"

you nod at them, reaching both hands out to pat each of their heads at the same time.

"mhm, just wait a little longer, okay?"

"yes, miss!" they speak together, determined voices reaching your ears.

you begin making your way out of the living area before luke calls out to you again.

"uh, just a suggestion, but maybe use something a little sturdier than ribbon for the mask!"

you stare at him.

"it may be too heavy to hold it, so i recommend something like ours!" he turns his brother around, gesturing towards his mask.

"r-right" you nod. "thanks, i'll keep that in mind," you mutter but loud enough for him to still hear you.

"anytime, miss!"

with that, you're scampering back to your room, hoping luke is as oblivious as he seems and not just messing with you.

when you're out of sight, they turn to each other.

"so, you were wrong," kieran starts, hand moving behind his head.

"hey! i bet i was close. and anyway, we'll see whatever it is soon enough, right? isn't that all thanks to me??" luke juts his thumb towards himself.

"yeah, i'll give you that at least."

"but still, i wonder what the deal is with the interest in masks. isn't it too sudden?"

"maybe she got jealous of ours," kieran suggests.

"that must be it," luke quickly agrees.

"guess we'll just have to wait and see for miss hunter's masterpiece mask."

-

stage four: ???

"..."

sylus had returned a couple of nights later.

you initially told them that they'd likely get to see what you'd been working on for christmas as you'd wrapped it and placed it under the tree, but when the day came and you noticed sylus hadn't yet returned, you made the twins wait until he did.

and he had.

finally.

though, they had to entertain themselves for one more night, already surrendering opening them despite their beloved boss' return after seeing him haul you down the hallway and into his bedroom.

as they trotted off to their rooms, luke piped up suddenly.

"so that's what all the ribbon was for..."

"huh?"

"didn't you see? miss hunter had ribbon dangling from her wrists and ankles."

"freaky."

"definitely."

. . .

the next day, like young children on christmas morning, the twins berated sylus' door with knocks, calling at you both to hurry up cause they'd waited long enough, threatening to rip open all of the presents should you make them wait any longer.

in short time, both you and sylus had appeared in the living room (you being carried by sylus and placed comfortably on the sofa) as the twins sat by the tree, eyeing the presents.

"go on, then" sylus urged, leaning back on the sofa, manspread as a hand reached over to caress your hair.

you pointed out the two cutely-sized presents wrapped with care in gold and silver wrapping paper, the twins snatching them up quickly before ripping the paper after you have the okay.

under the paper, the each help a small cardboard box. they looked at each other.

"open it up," your voice is sleepy, comfortable from sylus' caresses but fighting the fatigue in favor of seeing the twins' faces.

"on three," kieran tells luke, who nods.

"one," kieran starts.

"two," luke continues.

"three!" they say together, snatching the lids clean off of the boxes.

its quiet for a moment as they inspect the contents.

inside each box are one shiny ring, the perfect size for their masks, and a small chain dangling from it adorned with a small, shiny crow charm on the end of it.

they both take theirs out, inspecting it and watching the charm dangle.

"i.. hope you like it. it wasn't easy to make... you trail off, watching their focused expressions.

they pause their staring before slowly looking at each other, a sudden realization donning upon them.

"so thats what it all was for!"

sylus tilts his head.

"what what was for?"

"long story-" luke begins.

"we thought miss hunter was making a mask to scare you and then tie you up."

sylus stares for a moment before a chuckle escapes him.

"well, that's definitely an idea..."

you swat at his thigh.

"such a feisty kitten," he teases, but continues his caresses.

the twins then shift their hidden gaze towards you.

"thank you, miss hunter!"

needless to say, the sight of them donning the matching dangling crow charms and sometimes switching from their classic gold ring to your silver one filled your heart.

-

a/n: happy new years! its still new yrs eve for me so technically i finished this in dec (& all month of dec is christmas to me heh....) i wish everyone a lovely new yrs celebration & hope the yr brings you peace & fulfillment :x i'm quite proud of myself for writing + posting fics for lads for the first time in succession & hope to improve w any new piece that i release :x also ,good luck to everyone on this current banner.... i was lucky to get rafayel & then zayne alr and have my sights set on sylus next.... i will get freaky w him trust

-

[mxcurryy]

“Sorry, cover!” The little libero called,

“Alright!” He called back.

With one swift motion, the boy (more like your boy) glided towards the ball. His dark ocean eyes scanning its every motion before raising the hands of his own. The ball moved in a perfect curve, straight to the spiker which hit it with ease. 

Kageyama Tobio really is your boy. 

You stood up in excitement, cheeks flushed, it was just a few minutes when you came and what you saw gauged your mouth open. Cheers escaping from it. 

You won your game, and the decision to pull back and look at his game was a good decision. It’s not like you like him, no. You loved him.

Really, it’s been years. Years since you saw each other at Kitagawa Daiichi. Now it’s already your third year at Shiratorizawa High School. Same for him at Karasuno. 

You’ve been watching his games from afar for 3 years since the 2 of you lost contact. 

But back to when you haven’t, it was as though you two were life long best friends since the ice age. Always together, always happy, that was until his grandpa died.

He changed completely, his eyes darkened, he grew his bangs and all you saw was irritation in him. You helped him, supported him in everyday you could but… all he did was push you away...

Then by the end of middle school, the two of you parted ways, with nothing but bitter goodbyes.

But he changed. A lot. Since you started getting interested in his games, you watched them. He was smiling. Really smiling. After all those time at Kitagawa Daiichi, you saw him smile. But it still stung when you knew it wasn’t because of you that he smiled. 

And it isn’t his fault he doesn’t know you loved him since the beginning.

You fell for him the moment he shared that smile of his. And seeing him dump the last point of the match with such confidence made you bolt. This is it. Im not shying away. Not this time.

You leaped out of your seat, dashing down to catch a glimpse of him up close. Gosh, he’s beautiful. 

“Tobio!” You yelled, hands waving as the black headed boy turned around questioning where the call came from. “Tobio!” You called again, this time his eyes immediately met yours.

You smiled jogging up to him. But he was faster. 

The moment he saw you play in the prefectures, he knew it was you. Your style was different, smooth, calm, elegant. He thought you’d forget everything that the 2 of you shared. But you didn’t. 

So when he saw those brown eyes of yours and that sweet voice of yours, he ran. Ran like he never did and obviously, with everything forgotten but you, he hugged you. Tight. As if he loosened up, you’ll slip from him for another 3 years.

For the first time in ages, you met a familiar scent... a scent that you love so much. His.

It wasnt a surprise when he hugged you like that, to be honest you were glad he did. You were afraid he would be uncomfortable or distant even. But no, he hugged you. And you hugged him back. 

"T-tobio... can't breathe...." you finally choked, “Yn,” he spoke after finally squeezing the last bits of air out of you, "I've missed you.... how's everything?" He finally asked after a long moment of hesitation.

"Its been long, i know, but... its good i get to see you again!" You gleamed as you smiled brightly, "you grew!" You beamed, pointing at "your" boy's head.

He giggles shyly, facing away "y-yeah, but u did too. I guess we both did change..."

He finally looked back at you, eyes now fixed on yours.

And for that one moment, the world around you faded, as if he knew you loved him all along. His eyes say it, but his mouth doesn't. Either way, the silence that was engulfing the two of you never felt uncomfortable. 

Then the two of you just stood there, staring straight through each other, savoring every moment you've lost together.

"Win the next round for me and advance to the nationals with me will you?" He finally spoke.

"You bet..."

Then he left with a smirk... and you didnt say it... not even close. Great. 3 years squeezing into 1 tight hug and a few lines.

At least it was something.

You knew the next time you see him will be at the nationals, either him playing or both of you. He was a man of his words. You knew that well. 

"Yn!" He turned back, "Say Hi to mom for me will you?" You nod. 

Dammit yn. Stop the "he's going to say he loves me when he turns back" dreaming.

You shook yourself awake as you start to walk back. But something just, doesn't feel right.... he's been here for years, and how can you not say anything more? Not mentioning the fact that you loved him.

You clench your fist by your sides, turning back. "Tobio!" He turns to you from his team, "oh uh... see yo- uhh.. g-good luck!" You called as he smiled and nod.

Wait, wait, smiled? He smiled? Because of you? 

"3 years wrapped in a good luck... the boy you love, you say?" Your teammate says, one hand leaning you down from your shoulder. "Quit staring, its either you go for it or it slips yn."

"Oh will you shut up..." you muttered as you finally turned away from him.

At least he smiled. At you. Because of you.

And to you, thats way more than enough.

[writingoddess1125]

I Fell in love Alone pt.2

Are you guys okay!? Why do you want more sad stuff?! Hugs you all

Buggy x GN reader

Sad Angst

No warnings just sadness

Enjoy depression part 2!

It had been three weeks... three weeks since you had stopped speaking and visiting Buggy and he was a wreck... at first he played it cool, acting like he had dropped you for a few toy even betting people to join him in bed but- it wasn't the same.. he had never felt so empty before- not since Shanks betrayed him and that was a feeling had never wanted back.

He was snappier and his temper somehow worse- almost of his late night partners he had tried to fill his space could t even step into the room or touch him before he snapped and sent them away as their presence didn't provide the same comfort.

Buggy couldn't help but watch your every move, Waiting for some indication that you'd come back- That you'd get jealous or maybe lonely like he was.. but that didn't seem to be the case- you seemed okay without him.

You were starting to heal- despite having to see Buggy almost everywhere or see people leaving his room when you past by to get to the crew sleeping quarters, oddly you felt like you were getting better. The cracks were still their but slowly filling with a self love you weren't sure was their before.

You talked to some friends you hadn't spoke to in a while since you had been so into Buggy that he occupied your everything. It had been nice, even if at night you'd feel that same ache or hollowness but it was shrinking...

Tonight had been a party, for what reason you didn't know but it just ment slightly better food and more alcohol for everyone. So seated on a barrel you and your friends play some cards and drink, laughing and just talking.

"(Y/N) I dont want to ruin the mood but...You know- I never did ask, How was your relationship with Buggy?" They ask, You taking a breath as you sip your own drink.

"In the beginning it was great... the passion, the feeling of him being with me- I thought it was love but I think it was just infatuation and easy access for him- while for me it was obsession" You admit, a bitter taste going over your tongue at such words.

"It was when I realized that- he left first always.. never kissed me and used me like some prop..how he never asked about me, never cared and... I wasnt what hebreally wanted- I was just his status symbol" You wince at your own words, hot tears welling in your eyes.

"It was my fault however. I should have never fell in love with him. Cause now I have to learn how to fall out of love with him, thats why next time we dock im leaving..." You admit, your friends looking on you in sympathy as they pour you another drink.

You and your friends cheered together at 'Learning to fall out of love and till the next adventure' And drank together the rest of the night. You had a higher tolerance due to spending so much time with Buggy- so by the time the rest of the crew had retired for the night you went up to get some fresh air on the main deck still raw from the conversation that took place with your friends.

You walk out to see Buggy, drunk off his ass and barely able to stand against the rails of his ship, the almost dozen rolling bottles clued you in he was most likely had binge drank and was close to blackout. Reaching over quickly to grab him before he accidently went overboard and pulling him back-

"Captian what are yo-" You stopped as you saw him, he looked a reck.... His makeup was flaky and old, his hair a awful mess and he looked like he had been fished out of some sewer drain then your Captian.

"D-Dont call me that- I hate it when you c Hic Me Capitan! Buggy- Only you can call me Buggs!" He said angrily, swaying opposite to the pull and push of the waves.

"Sir you're drunk let's get you inside" You say softly, reaching out to grab his coat to pull him inside but he grabbed your hand hard and held it in an iron grasp.

"No! I want you back (Y/N)! You need to come back now!" He yelled, scaring you a bit at the tone of voice but in truth you were scared he was going to hurt himself..

"Cap.. Buggy- Im here i dont" You were cut off again as he staggered forward- almost falling on you if he hadn't caught his own weight slamming into the rails again. You pulling him back.

"No! I want you back with me! I- I want you back...you have to stay..." He mumbled, Your face blooming in surprise by the words coming from his lips.

"I learned them! I learned them all! I know your favorite colors, your birthday, the village you came from and what foods you like and dislike... T-That I embarrassed you..." He started to trail off as tears welled in his eyes and he staggered to the side.

"How you didn't feel like I cared for you... i-i didn't hold you at night and tell you how important you are to me.. how you thought I never kissed you or would leave you in the morning cause i didnt care-" He said the last sentence angrily and tossed the mostly empty rum bottle on the ground watching how it shattered. "How you're going to leave..."

"I.. Buggy how did you-" You mutter, before Buggy stammered towards you and reached into your coat pocket with a heavy hand and pulled out his own ear- you never knew it was missing to begin with and forgot how often you wear this coat. Smacking it to the side of his head as he stumbled at reattaching his limb.

"I kissed you every morning before I left.. I don't get much sl-sleep and so I'd wake up and just watch the sun hit you're face.. kiss you gently before leaving for the day..." He admitted, you feeling your heart squeeze at his words as well as the slight embrassment that he heard your woes to your friends about himself- or worse he drank himself like this cause he did hear you.

"I... don't know what love is.. I don't think I've ever truly felt it.. familial bonds... brotherly kinship.. but never love- B-But I think what I feel for you is it? I-Im not sure but I feel like my chest is being cut open when I look at the bed and you're not there with me... when I dont feel your warmth on my hand... or your voice telling me anything" tears began to roll down his tears fully, He looked so sad and lonely...

"Buggy..." You say softly, Watching tears run down his face washing what remained of his tattered makeup. How he hiccups both from crying and being drunk.

"I-I miss you (Y/N)..." He admitted, falling onto his knees finally as he ignored the pokes of the glass entering him. Tears continuing to flow freely as he bowed his head.

You couldn't watch this... reaching down you help him to his feet, feeling how heavy he was and the sour smell of BO that radiated off of him. Bringing him back to his quarters you set him on the bed to get him cleaned up.

He almost looked comatose, tears still running down his cheeks silently as you clean the makeup from his face and pull off his sour dirty clothes. Getting a wet rag to give him some sort of bath like he was a child- it wasnt like you hadnt seen him naked before, babbling drunk nonsense leaving him as you did so and help him into fresh underwear which he stumbles and ends up just detaching his legs lazily to help. But his hand always an iron grasp onto you in some way.

"Alright let's get you into bed..." You say softly, still fairly conflicted about all of this. Ready to just make sure the captian is safe enough to were he doesn't choke on his own vomit in his sleep and return to the crew quarters but he sobs and grabs you.

"Stay- please!" He begs, Having never heard this level of total panic from him- He looked so vulnerable.. in boxers, drunk, without his makeup of mask and emotionally a open book... you couldn't leave him like this.

So you removed your coat and climb in next to him. He held onto you, like what he would do every night you two had shared together. However now you understood, feeling that desperation in his grasp you had never understood before.

"Please stay with me (Y/N)..." You hear him whisper, burying his face into your neck further like he could hide from the world against you.

"...I know I'm not much... I'm not the strongest... not the smartest and-d not handsome but... I'll do anything for you... just please- don't leave me too" You feel your heart break at the softness of his words and how broken he sounded. How you had manages to crumble this paper lion- you held him tighter and rubbed circles in his back to lull him to sleep silently.

Tag List:

@starsali @nerdisthenewcool @aleisha127 @delectableworm @aleracrovn @myhubbyisbuggy @d1ner @soft-mafia @foggyturtleknightangel @devils-blackrose @valentinass-whotookmyname @onelatenight-longago @natalieisfreeziing @straightedgegoth

[emmyrosee]

EMMY MY DEAREST MY BABY MY BELOVED <333

could I be a bit greedy and make another teeny tiny request?? you don’t have to feel obligated to do it AT ALL if you don’t want to!!! I’ve just been having an interesting time lately and you do comfort so well ☹️

genuinely all I’ve wanted all week is to be babied a bit/taken care of/pampered/absolutely smothered with soft gentle affection by atsumu when he starts to notice I’m getting overwhelmed or burnt out :(

I think he’d be good at catching it before it gets too out of control and keeping me sane. he wouldn’t let me lift a finger and he’d be so over the top with his physical affection cuz he knows I love that 😕

I feel so bad bc I feel like I’ve been bugging you a lot lately so pls pls pls don’t feel like you have to!!! I completely understand, there’s no pressure 🫶🏻🫶🏻

anon <3

YOU HAVENT BUGGED ME IN LIKE. FOUR MONTHS HUSH YOUR CUTE FACE- EVEN IF YOU DID SEND ME ANYTHING RECENTLY, YOURE NOT A BOTHER AND I LOVE YOU 😠❤️

he catches it pretty much immediately, with how you were clinging to him a little bit more than usual last night, brows seemingly forever pinched in the middle of your head and your fingers fisting the collar of his night shirt. he didn't say anything, but he definitely makes a note to keep an eye on it.

especially when, the next morning, you turn to your side to let him get ready for practice, and you hike the blankets higher and screw your eyes shut to try and tune him out.

he sees this, and crawls his body back into bed, mind now only focusing on taking care of you before you drown.

"peepee-poopoo," he whispers, hanging his head upside down to look at you, his blonde hair hanging shaggily. "where's my fighty baby this morning, hmm?"

you shrug and avoid his eyes, and pulls his head back to take this more seriously, "c'mere. come talk to me."

"you have to go-"

"i don't have to do a thing," he assures. he's quick to take out his phone and text coach that he's not going to make it, but he doesn't tell you that because the last thing you need is worrying about him missing a day to care for you.

which is one of his favorite things to do- but you fight him on it constantly. and he hopes today you're compliant enough to let him be here for you.

"do you want to talk about it?" he asks, gently rubbing his knuckles over your shoulder, and when you shake your head, he leans over your body again to kiss your cheek. "okay," he whispers, lingering for a minute before pulling back to head to the kitchen to make you breakfast.

breakfast, that was supposed to be in bed, but you worked up the courage to wade into the kitchen not long after him. "hey-" you begin, but you're cut off by the yelp from his lips and the dropping of an egg square to the floor, which you both look at blankly.

he starts to snicker, "whups."

"sorry."

he clicks his tongue, "shut up- come get a kiss," he says, stepping over the egg and pulling you into a hug, and his shoulders relax when you loosen in his arms. he sponges kisses to the crown of your head, "don't ever be sorry for something i did. it wasnt your fault."

you immediately tense back up, and atsumu knows his hit the nail on the head with it, and you burrow your face deeper into his chest and he tightens his grip on you to keep you grounded. "go back to bed," he soothes. "im with you today-"

"i dont want to be so far from you," you say, and he smiles as you dont put up an argument, dont scold him for staying, but his heart sinks slightly at the idea that youre so in your head all you can think about is him right now. "not today. can i stay?"

"id be bummed if you didn't," he says. he smirks and scoops you in his massive arms, relishing in the giggles you let you as he carries you and sets you on the counter, where he then feeds you slices of fruit while your eggs sear on the oven. he feeds you breakfast bite for bite, placing a straw in some water for you to drink before carrying you to the bathroom, where he tells you to brush your teeth.

you get shy, "can... do you think... maybe-"

"yeah," he smiles. "open up, babe."

he brushes your teeth, sure to get all the areas the dentist warns him about, before pulling back with a happy sigh and holding out his hand.

you quirk a brow, "what?"

"spit it into my hand."

"ew!" you laugh, and god it truly is his favorite sound, and you turn your head to spit the froth in the sink. "youre nasty."

"and you picked me first. too late to question your choice."

"yet i do every day."

"little fucker," he snickers, and when he makes a move to tickle you, you dart away, laughter ringing in the air as he barrels down after you, down the hall and into the bedroom, where he tackles you onto the bed. "i made you breakfast and this is the thanks i get?" he sighs, playfully punching your tummy, successfully dodging your hands to try and still his barely touching fists.

"l-learn from osamu," you manage, and his jaw slacks at your audacity while you giggle more in anticipation.

"you're annoying," he snorts, leaning down to nibble your ear and neck while his fingers spider up your sides, you shriek and shove his shoulders weakly. he stops and kisses the rest of the giggles from your lips, and he hums when you wrap your arms around his neck. when he pulls away, you mewl and tug him closer. he shushes you easily, "not going anywhere babydoll, i promise."

and he doesn't. he doesn't go anywhere, merely rolling you both onto your sides where he cradles you close, cupping the back of your head protectively as you burrow into him.

every now and then, he feels your shoulders tense up and quiver, as if you're fighting tears, but he doesn't make you say anything. not until you're ready to.

and when you are, he's there, his thumb gently stroking the back of your head while your tears soak into his shirt. he shushes you softly when your cries turn to sobs, or your breathing picks up too much for his comfort.

he reminds you he's not going anywhere, ever, he's got your back no matter what, and if it takes one day or fifteen, he's more than happy to stay in that bed, brush your teeth, feed you food, anything to keep you from drowning in your own anxieties and thoughts.

"thank you for telling me," he whispers every now and again. "im so proud of you."

"im so tired, atsumu... i don't know what to do anymore."

he screws his eyes shut as your voice cracks, "you're doing great, angel. keep doing what you're doing, because its your best, and its more than enough. and i'm sorry the world hasn't let you think it has been.

"you're more than enough. please keep going for me, okay?"

"okay..."

"I love you."

"I love you too atsu..."

[jitt0]

☆〜POST SHOW DEPRESSION〜☆

A Kindergarten 3 fanfic about the after events of “the show must go on”’s mission!!

PART 1

☆

Felix stood outside as he waited for someone to come and get him. He could feel the cold brisk air ruffling his hair and the sunlight beaming down on him. He was desperate to get new bandages for his bleeding eye sockets as they were becoming quite itchy. He was terrified to see what his father would think of him now that he's a cripple, but also eager to see how Ted would react after he saw him in this state. All he had to do now was wait for his family driver, Driverton to arrive.

He hears a large car pull up to the school's parking lot. He tried to shimmy his way to the limo, walking blindly into the parking lot. Almost three steps in a car skirts to a stop. He jumps and almost falls over, but stops himself thinking about what the other children would think if Felix fell over, or worse, got hit by a car. He smelled a faint scent of gasoline telling him the car was headed straight for him.

“HEY!” Felix yelled, covering his head and attempting to stay standing. “How dare you! Watch where you’re going, you Vagabond! Do you know who I am!?”

“Get out of the road, moneybags!” he heard Monty’s voice calling. Probably from the car that had almost killed him.

Felix grunted, and continued waddling his way back to the limo… maybe. He had to guess. He shimmied along until he found (and almost tripped across) the curb at the end of the parking lot where Driverton usually parked. He heard somebody getting out of the car. And running over to him.

“Ted! goodness, what's happened to you? You’re going to get blood all over the seats!” It was Driverton, and as long as he was wearing Ted’s shirt and tie, nobody would care if he had gotten his eyes gouged out or run over by a car.

“Driverton, please! You must listen to me! I am not Teddy! I am Felix! Now, drive me to the hospital now, won't you? Im blind!” Driverton hesitated. At this point no one would believe that Ted had switched their clothes. They were so similar that no one would be able to tell. Felix would be fuming if he wasnt in so much pain.

“I'm sure we have some bandages at home. You’ll be fine. Just try not to bleed on anything.” Driverton finally replied. Felix didnt even know where to begin. How could anyone refuse him medical assistance so casually? He had nothing to retort with though, so he had no choice but to go home and face being the familys new charity case.

He climbed into the limo finally and felt around the car to find a place to sit. Unbeknownst to him, he chose the seat right next to his twin brother, Ted who was silent in shock. Felix fastened his seatbelt and for once in his life, he shed a few tears. His father would never have allowed him to express weakness, but he also had never had his eyes gouged out before, so he figured he deserved a pass. Of course, you wouldnt be able to notice, but it made him feel odd for some strange reason.

“Rough day at school, Teddy?” Ted sneered, trying to maintain his impression of him. Felix turned to face the source of the voice in sheer anger. This, all of this, was all his fault. If he hadn't been so rebellious Felix would have been celebrating his escape from that awful school in peace. But he had taken all that away from him. Without thinking he unbuckled his seatbelt and pounced at him from the other side of the car.

“You!” he yelled. “This was all you! You did this to me on purpose, how could you?” he blindly swung at his brother with all the strength he had left. “I was the one who was supposed to go to the academy! Not you!” he continued. But Ted wouldnt have any of that, he fought back.

“Are you serious?” Ted barked, pushing his brother off him. “You deserve it! This is ruining my whole life!”

“Your life? What life? If you hadnt swapped our clothes today you’d be just as worthless and stupid as you were every day.” Felix continued to flail around as Ted attempted to keep him from gouging out any of his eyes.

“Im so unbelievably sick of you Teddy! No wonder Father never loved you!” Felix continued trying to figure out where he was so he could swing at him again.

“Maybe he will a little more now when he finds out his favorite son is a disabled helpless blind boy.” Ted quickly shot back. Felix snapped and grabbed Ted’s tie. Another lucky guess.

“I hate you Theodore!” he shouted. “I’ve always hated you! Father always hated you!” Ted punched him right in the face, the blood flowing back up to his eyesockets again causing a few drops of blood to stain both Ted’s shirt and the car seat. Felix finally retreated to his seat, hands clutching his bandages trying to make sure no more blood spilled anywhere.

“Your words mean nothing to me, Felix. I'm not your punching bag anymore.” Ted said calmly. The car stopped and a door opened. Ted had left him to find his way inside on his own. He couldn’t even hear Driverton still in the limo to help him. He felt a tinge of something strange, sympathy? Guilt for the pain he had caused his brother? Probably not. It was most likely just his head pounding begging for a new set of bandages. He started to find his way inside.

Lmk if yall want a part two!! Im pretty proud of this ugh

[daisyy345]

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[ifimdreaming]

its all my fault

quinn hughes x reader || angst

authors note: sorta rewrote this but i still dont love it. mild cw: alcohol, fighting, toxic relationship protrayed

word count: 1.6k

-

“why do you act like ive never told you this bothers me? Every single time you go out, you stay all night and get drunk, and then come home at 4am and act oblivious as to how I could possibly be upset at you.” you say knowing that talking to him in this state is like arguing with a brick wall.

Without answering you, Quinn stumbles around the apartment discarding clothes from his body on his way towards the bathroom, and you watch as they fall carelessly to the floor.

It wasnt like this was an everyday occurrence, but it was happening more and more often and you knew it was getting worse. In the beginning of your relationship the two of you used to go out together. Always together. 

And it wasnt that you didnt like going out anymore, it was just that you didnt like the way he acted when you went out with him. So you stopped going. It was the same everytime. Always getting drunk whether you were drinking or not and never caring about spending any time with you at all. It was always about making himself feel good. Or maybe just to feel nothing. 

To be honest you didnt know why he was drinking to the point of complete and utter insensibility, and it hurt you the first time you brought it up to him. It was over dinner and he insisted you both finish a second bottle of wine. Again. On a thursday night;

-

“Why dont we just save it for the weekend? I dont mind having a glass or two over dinner, but it seems unnecessary to be drinking so much on a weekday, no?” you say cautiously.

Your boyfriend is sitting across from you with a hazy look in his eyes. you watch him fiddle with the bottle of wine as he places it on his lap momentarily. His left hand is around the throat of the bottle as he begins anxiously picking at the cork with his right hand. 

“Are you insinuating something?” Quinn says without making eye contact. 

His eyes stay peering down at the bottle in his lap as he speaks, then at your both empty glasses that are sat across from each other at the table and you can feel the heat in your cheeks intensifying. 

“Im just trying to look out for you..its not that i d-” you start but are quickly cut off by your half-drunk boyfriend.

“Then whyd you bring it up? What does the day of the week have to do with it?” He says with a mocking tone.

Quinn didnt raise his voice. He never would. But honestly what he said caught you off guard. It wasnt that you were scared of him, you were just worried about what he was doing to himself, his career, his relationship with you, his future - so many things were running through your head. 

You knew it was all getting worse too, and it was hard for you to admit it to yourself because you knew he was refusing to admit it himself. His absolute defensiveness is what you knew would be the hardest wall to tear down.

“Forget it. Lets just finish dinner, ok?” you say picking up your fork and trying to just forget the whole conversation. You hoped he would just forget about the alcohol altogether but deep down you knew it would be brought up again.

-

Following after him seemed like the most daunting task in the world right now. It was like living with a teenager at this point. And you knew it wasnt your job to take care of him. You wouldnt put up with that. 

But its been weeks, and here you are. Putting up with it.

“Quinn, we need to talk about this. Can you come out here?” you say as you begin down the hall to find him.

Although you say this calmly, as you walk further down the hallway you can hear him vomiting on the other side of the bathroom door and your anger suddenly intensifies. It makes you cringe hearing the sounds of his booze emptying into the toilet. Mostly because of how much it frustrated you how often this occurred.

Regardless of the state he was in when he walked in the front door, you knew once he was done throwing up his guts, he would be sober enough to talk to you at least 70% sensibly.

Waiting was the worst part. Recalling all of the other nights he came home in this state. Fearing he’ll completely ignore your attempts to talk this through. Worrying this might end up the night he finally lands himself in the hospital. 

After hearing silence for more than a minute you softly knock on the bathroom door.

“Just give me a fucking minute… Please?” Quinn says with a growl in his voice that he softly lets up as he speaks, knowing he shouldnt be talking to you that way.

You want to walk away so badly, but manage to stand your ground. 

“Im waiting right here.” you say proudly, but also, defeatedly.

Honestly you didn't understand how you had so much patience this late at night.

Finally Quinn opens the door. He slowly walks out towards you and looks terrified to face you. You didnt want your relationship to be this way. The overarching feeling of dread lingering over the both of you.

“Can you just try and understand where im coming from?” You begin to say,

“Just put yourself in my perspective.” You add quietly.

His eyes were clearly tired and you could see them gently squinting as he stares at your lips. Trying desperately to comprehend every word coming out of your mouth.

Maybe he wasnt getting it. Maybe he genuinely didnt understand how big of a toll his drinking has taken on your relationship - On your lives.

“Its not that easy.” He says in a whisper, matching his tone with yours.

“Ok?... Its not easy? I know its not that easy.” you try to hold back the disgust in your voice as you say this, but fail.

You close your eyes and air lets out from your nose in disapproval. You cant help it. Under communicating was what Quinn did best. He knew exactly how to piss you off and it was working right off the bat. 

“Are you going to let me explain or are you just gonna keep up the disappointed girlfriend act?” Quinn says as he looks at you through the doorway of the bathroom, leaning his shoulder on the wall.

He watches you as you uncross your arms, trying to appear open to whatever he is going to say next. But he stays silent which infuriates you even more.

“Go ahead Quinn! Its about goddamn time you explain yourself!” you knew yelling is not the right approach but just couldnt contain your frustration any longer.

Quinn takes a step towards you and you can tell he is desperately holding himself back from just giving up on this conversation altogether. 

He runs his hands through his hair, holding himself back from his anger and looks utterly defeated. And suddenly it is really hard to be angry at him. You can tell he has no idea how to express himself to you in this moment.

You were scared if you got any closer to him you would just hold him and never let go.

“I dont know whats wrong with me… I dont want to make excuses to you because i know you can see right through my bullshit.” Quinn begins and his voice wavers, “But i dont know whats wrong.” He repeats.

His eyes are bloodshot and glossy as he peers into yours. 

“Its unforgivable. How ive treated you? Its horrible.  makes me feel like shit to think about that.” He says.

His apology of sorts made you sad. You felt sorry for him, but mostly you wondered how much of this he'll remember in the morning.

You fight back tears as you continue looking at him without a word. You were afraid if you spoke it would open up the flood gates of your tears and you didnt want that.

Quinn scans your face looking for any clue whatsoever as to what you could be thinking before he brings his gaze back to your eyes. You couldn't stand the prolonged eye contact any longer so you look down at his fingers and watch as he begins to pick at his cuticles, his anxiety clearly getting the better of him. 

His hands are red and calloused and the only thing you can focus on. Suddenly the urge to hold them takes over.

You walk towards him and grab his hands in yours. Quinn immediately accepts your touch. He steps even closer towards your body and rests his chin at the top of your head, your forehead resting lightly on his chest. And for some reason the simplicity of his embraces finally brings you to tears.

You sob into his chest and he grips the back of your neck tightly, your hair wrapping messily in his hand. His other hand wraps around your body, pulling you into a tight hug. The sounds of your sobbing fills the room and almost begins to embarrass you with how loud it is.

Your arms grasped Quinn so strongly it almost hurt you to hold him that tightly. Everything hurt. Your throat burned as you continued crying, your eyes stung from your mascara bleeding into them, your body was physically and mentally exhausted from staying up all night worrying about Quinn. 

He was all you could think about and you really wouldn't be surprised if he was beginning to lose oxygen from your grip on him in this moment.

“Its all my fault. Everything.” Quinn chokes out and its then that you realize he is crying too.

He strokes your head gently and you let him console you.

But honestly you didn't know if allowing him to console you after being the reason for your pain was toxic or romantic.  

-

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