#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

[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

@demonsanddemogorgons, @djoseph-quinn, @dolcevitalifestyle, @eddies-puppet, @emma-munson

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

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

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

@mexicanfolklore, @munsonluvrr, @munson-mjstan, @munsonssweets, @nadixq

@niallersfreckles, @notverywise, @pepperstories, @phyllosilicate-s, @prettiestboyreid

@readergf, @royale1803, @skulliecadaver-blog, @sherrylyn0628, @shizlac

@solzi1420, @songforeddiemunson, @sweetberry47, @take-everything-you-can, @thebellenouvelle

@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 💕

[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

[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!!

[ariseur]

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

-

[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..."

[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.

[daisyy345]

how your instagram would look like if you were dating spencer pt5

yourusername

liked by ellegreenaway, meangirljj and others

yourusername passenger princess? no. passenger survivor

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boywonder dont lie i treat u like a princess 😠

yourusername mhm..

derekm69 is he even old enough to drive?

emprentiss i could take u anywhere u want gorgeous

pennygirl me too babygirl

yourusername thank u my loves 😚

boywonder hello??? she is MY girlfriend

emprentiss too slow genius 🥱

ssahotch so my driving lessons were for nothing?

ellegreenaway WDYM I TAUGHT HIM HOW TO DRIVE

yourusername

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yourusername spent the whole afternoon arguing about a piece HE LOST but it was a cute idea ig 😒

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boywonder honey i have an eidetic memory, you were the one in charge of the roof.

yourusername NO I WASNT U WERE

emprentiss never his fault right 😒

yourusername never 😒

boywonder hey

meangirljj so cute!!

davidrossi ❤️

derekm69 idk how this idea could have ever been fun

yourusername stfu

yourusername

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yourusername let the matriarchy begin 🥷🏼

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emprentiss from subs to unsubs

yourusername EXCUSE ME??

pennygirl yes miss nairobi 🧎🏼‍♀️🧎🏼‍♀️

derekm69 not gonna get far w those masks 🥴🥴

yourusername u know nothing about fashion

pennygirl agreed

ssahotch this was not what i meant when i said to go undercover

yourusername ur fault for not being specific

boywonder yes what else did you expect?

yourusername

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yourusername my injured soldier from war 🤕🥰

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derekm69 fly high🕊

yourusername 🪦🪦

pennygirl aye aye captain

emprentiss gone but not forgotten 😔✊🏻

yourusername 🙏🏻

meangirljj omg

yourusername he is a bit clumsy

yourusername

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yourusername pictures in frames of kisses on cheeks 💋

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pennygirl thats how you get the girl

derekm69 cringe

emprentiss i second that

yourusername hey 😕

boywonder love you 💞

ellegreenway cutes

meangirljj 💟

[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.  

-

-

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

Aita for having a foursome without my partner while in a committed relationship?

I, 18f, am in a relationship with my partner who I will call Mike, 21m. Our relationship started in January when we meet on a hookup sight, and we liked the hookup enough to keep seeing each other and then we developed feelings. I'm from a pretty rural place and therefore the pickings of good men are slim so it felt like I hit the jackpot when I met Mike cause he was funny and didn't pressure me sexually and could actually make me cum.

But as our relationship became more serious I noticed things that were bothering me like how he's hardly on his phone so he doesn't text me back for anywhere from 2 to over 24 hours at a time.

He also in the beginning wasn't very good at communicating which lead me to not knowing what he wants from our relationship. He also wouldn't tell me he couldn't make plans until right before, or even after, the plans were meant to start. This happened often because he doesn't tell his parents that he has other plans when they ask him to do something (he still lives with his parents) and it even happened a couple times with his friends.

This is a slightly big issue to me because I have trauma based abandonment issues and BPD, and I will get upset and have an episode. Obviously it's not his fault I have these episodes and he's not causing them on purpose, but having episodes that often was negatively effecting my mental health.

My best friend Ken and roommate, 18n, and our two other friends, Julian, 18n, and Mac, 20n, had to witness the toll these episodes had on my mental health as I grew more depressed and anxious during the 5 months I allowed this to happen. They continuously encouraged me to either speak to him about his behavior or break up and I ended up talking to him and his behavior seemed to get better. (For context I only can see him about once a week because he has a job with long hours and works on his dad's farm on top of that)

Around this time my friends starting having threesomes together (Mac and Julian are ex fuck buddies and Mac and Ken are engaged) and they kept making jokes about how it should be a foursome/I should join then.

I brought these jokes up to Mike one of the times he was going to hang out with my friends incase made the joke in front of him as i didn't want him to go in unprepared. He said I should just "have sex with them to get the joke to stop" and I was like "??? We agreed to be exclusive, that would be cheating. Also if I wanted them to stop I could just ask" and he was like "yeah I guess but I still think you should just have sex with them. Just do it" I changed the subject cause I couldn't tell if he was joking and it made me uncomfortable.

I told my friends later when we were alone and they told me that was him giving me the go to have sex with them.

So I did, even though I held some reservations that he might have been jokinh. I had a foursome with them, and as I am the photographer of the group, took lots of photos and pictures and even sent the photos and pictures to the groupchat we share so the others could have them.

Then after it ended I started to second guess myself and deleted all the photos from my phone and texted Mike that I really needed to talk to him, like sooner then we usually would (since I had just seen him typically I wouldn't see him until next week). I felt gross like I had cheated, which is something I have always vehemently been against, and betrayed Mike's trust as we're in a committed relationship. I admitted these feelings to my friends and they said it wasn't cheating cause he told me too and even if he hadn't he was still horrible to me and he deserved it.

Only the last part made me feel even worse cause I don't believe anyone deserves to be cheated on.

I ended up telling Mike everything and he told me that it wasnt cheating because I "was basically just a promoted camera man" and that he had told me to do it anyway. But them he started making jokes about it. Like if I asked if he wanted to watch a show, he'd say "I don't watch TV shows with dirty cheaters" or things like "oh yeah, Mac, your other boyfriend" or "yeah i know how close you and Ken are" and just generally seems to get quieter when i bring up those three friends. I would originally think the comments were teasing as he's a playful guy but he started to say it enough that I can't tell if there's actually truth to it and a part of him thinks I'm a cheater, or all of him thinks I'm a cheater and he's lying that he's fine about it to not hurt my feelings/ruin our relationship.

Every time I voice my feelings to my friends (even the ones I didn't have sex with) they tell me that I'm not in the wrong but I feel like I definitely am in the wrong and a cheater, and I think that Mike might feel that way too. So I've come to Tumblr to look for unbiased options on whether or not I am and asshole and a cheater for having a foursome while in a committed relationship?

What are these acronyms?

[wizardnaturalist]

I am not about to sit here and claim that any work is above reproach, but so many criticisms of RENT are either directly addressed within the show or are just. not true. and this perennial discourse about how Problematic it is annoys me, so here we go

Why don't they just pay the rent?

are you kidding me

did you watch the show??

they don't have any money

the situation established at the beginning is that Benny has allowed them to stay in their apartment rent free for the past year because Roger was unable to work and he and Mark wouldnt be able to afford living expenses as well as Roger's medication otherwise.

Benny then tells them that unless they break up Maureen's protest, they will not only have to immediately start paying rent, they will also have to pay back the entire previous year's rent or else be evicted

needless to say if you ware barely scraping by, you do not have a year's worth of rent and then some just sitting on hand

Mark was cosplaying poverty, he could've gone back to his parents' house at any time.

perhaps

all we know about Mark's parents from canon is that theyre pushy and he doesnt want to live with them. We don't know any details of their living situation or home life

but even if he would have been fine moving back home, it would have meant abandoning both the community he had grown into, and Roger.

Roger literally had not left the apartment since April died, and was not well enough to work to support himself at the time. Mark leaving would mean leaving Roger without support.

Mark's view of the homeless is often voyeuristic and expoitative.

yah

the conflict between Mark's comparatively privileged upbringing and the poverty amongst which he now lives is a major part of his character

remember when that homeless lady told him to fuck off

that didnt just slip in by accident

The whole show is about not being able to afford things, and then Mark quits his job for his Ideals.

Mark was not entirely jobless before being employed at the magazine. He wasn't going from having a job to unemployment. He always had money for food, clothes, medication, etc., even if it was tight

he just wasn't employed in his field. it wasnt a question of Having A Job or Not; it was about whether Mark was willing to accept the chance to get closer to making a living off of his art, even if it went against his morals, or whether he could be content carving out filmmaking for himself in a way that felt right

I thought Jonathan Larson was gay and died of AIDS.

not his fault??

neither Larson nor his estate ever claimed either of those things, you just jumped to a conclusion and made it everyone elses' problem

I can't believe this is a common "criticism"

A straight man has no right to write about the AIDS epidemic.

I dont know how to tell you this, but AIDS is not a gays-only disease. what are you, a politician from 1986?

RENT was not about being gay, it was about the disease. Roger, Mimi, Mark, and Benny- half the main cast- are all straight as far as the audience is aware. other than gay people, the most at-risk groups at the time were IV drug users, sex workers, people of colour, and impoverished people, all of whom are represented in the show

Larson may not have had AIDS, but many of his friends and loved ones did, and died of it. how incredibly callous to say that someone cannot write about the tragedy they personally lived through, just because they are not of the demographic you most associate with it

Larson plagiarized the whole cast and all the major story beats from Sarah Shulman's People in Trouble.

this is one that cropped up on tiktok a couple years ago

have you read the book?

I have

the only similarities are that they are both about poverty and AIDS in New York, and there are characters who cheat on their partners. that's it.

it's like saying Veep plagiarized The West Wing because theyre both about white house staffers. or like those guys who claim any fantasy story featuring swords and the hero's journey is a Star Wars ripoff. it' absurd.

RENT is directly and openly based off the opera La Bohème by Puccini, as well as incorporating autobiographical elements from Larson's life

stop just repeating things you hear

in conclusion: there are real criticisms and analyses to be had with RENT, but these are not them

[faerise-fae]

Not really a marauders character but: Tom Riddle #20!

YAPPING WARNING ABOUT ASPD TOM RIDDLE AGAIN

Ok so sorry for taking so long to do this, but my brain crashes every time i try to think about something that isn't obvious or just fucking boring. BUT I REALLY WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT WITH YALL SO GIVE ME YOUR THOUGHTS

The hill I'll die on is that he is an ASPD baddie, tho I bet he would prefer thinking about himself as sociopath, as edgy teens do. It doesn't mean I think he is totally emotionless, i think he is very emotional. Just not empathetic? This man is purely driven by his emotions from the start. Be it fear of death, resentment, and hatred towards Dumbledore or just general anger directed at the stupidity of the wizarding nation. In ASPD it's just that the intensity of expression of those emotions is different. He can look totally put together and like an oasis of peace, but inside planning whatever insanities only he can think of.

Because the thing is, anger issues are not rare in ASPD. ASPD is associated with impulsiveness and violent or risky behaviours, which can result in lashing out in anger. It's just that when you don't have many emotions to begin with, controlling the stronger ones can be difficult.

People have very different headcanons about him in that matter, i see a lot of totally stoic, calculating tom riddle who doesn't have absolutely any emotions and stuff like this, but I really can't see it. My man is a dramatic, cruel, entitled and IMPULSIVE edgelord BUT:

HOT TAKE #1:

Canon Tom Riddle headcanonned himself as fanon Tom Riddle.

He might have thought of himself as emotionless, but he just didn't acknowledge it. Growing up in an unstable environment, he hadn't learned how to stabilize himself.

Because ASPD is partialy caused by genetics, yes. But a very big factor in developing it is childhood and home life. We can agree his was very unstable, he has probably witnessed violence and definitely experienced emotional neglect. ASPD is all about lack of security. Its defence mechanism. That means:

My man just doesn't know how to cope, LMAO. When it was too much even for him to stuff into the back of his brain, he just lashed out. Acting on impulses was his relief from it. Adrenaline from it also helped to mute his feelings.

But at the same time, he just didn't think of himself as unreasonable. "It was never his fault, he was just provoked!" He also didn't feel guilty about causing harm to others because he didn't have any empathetic feelings towards anyone. How can you feel bad about idk, cursing someone if you don't see them as an individual with feelings of their own. Because how could he think about their feelings when he didn't have much of his own to compare and to even comprehend what they feel beside some very shallow understanding. AND BY THAT I DONT MEAN HE DIDNT KNOW HE WAS HURTING PEOPLE AROUND HIM HE WASNT A POOR LITTLE MEOW MEOW. HE KNEW, HE JUST DIDNT GET IT SO HE DIDNT CARE. But he obviously knew. So no empathy but more like an educated guess. Masking king. He learnt how emotions worked for other people and used it whenever he saw fit. Pure manipulation.

Because again neglectful caregiving = problems with attachment to people and forming relationships. In the end it's all about him in that aspect. His feelings are always about himself and making himself feel comfortable and stable. He was fond of his friends till they were useful and till he felt good with having them around. He took pride* in gaining their respect and loyalty. He was using them to stroke his ego basically. And was using them in general. For stuff and things.

*HOT TAKE #2:

And here i have my latest hot take: his similarity with Harry in that matter. Harry is a gryffindor with some slytherin traits. And imo Tom, with him being the most slytherin to ever slytherin, his crazy pride and impulsivity is so gryffindor.

So there's that beside how we can all agree he was a liar and manipulator.

[dreamingcricket]

Hi Cricket! I soaked up your Tav/Halsin snippet, about them being injured and shrugging off Halsin's advances, it's absolutely sweet! I kindly request another Tav/Halsin if you don't mind... My Tav is a naive little sunshine and as a tiefling bard loves to dance, sing along and play on her fiddle, I imagine her having skirts that flow around her feet whenever she danced and plays around camp or inn's for some coin. Halsin being in love with Tav and like totally unable to hide it and it's obvious to everyone but Tav themselves. I would love for him to join her dancing, maybe something slower, more intimate with meaningful touches. He loves seeing her so at ease in rare moments like this, even when he's a clumsy dancer. 🤭

I'm so happy people are enjoying these!

Halsin was unused to revelry. 

He couldn't speak for every druid, of course, their kind ranged far and wide in both calling and temperament, but the Emerald Grove was prone only to subdued rites. He certainly couldn't fault the refugees for wanting to release some tension, however, and he wanted to show his appreciation to the small band that had saved him and his grove alike. Her, especially. 

And of course she was at the center of it all.

She reminded him of a celestial center, the hub of a wheel around which everything else turned. She glowed in the firelight, all orange and gold and purple, skirts flying as she fiddled. Music seemed to follow her everywhere. She danced like water, one pattern to the next without pause. It was beautiful. She was beautiful.

“You’re staring.” Shadowheart was difficult to read, as she appeared behind him, goblet in hand. He couldn't tell if her observation was meant to be an admonishment or not.

“I know.” He was usually reserved, if not stoic, and his developing feelings bubbling to quickly to the surface was alarming, but it would do no good to deny it.

"We all know. You're not subtle, Halsin." 

His attention was drawn back to Tav as she laughed. The sound was like the sun on his face.

Shadowheart followed his gaze. “Nobody blames you, Halsin. But she should know.”

“I don’t want to rush her.”

“Under any other circumstances, I’d agree. But we’re running out of time, and…” She shakes her head, clearing the morbid thought. “Just… everyone knows.

She finishes her number with a bow, and yields the stage to Alfira, who begins to pluck a lively tune. Her eyes lock onto Halsin’s and she bounds over, holding out her hands.

“Come, dance with me?”

He could feel the eyes of the camp upon him. Knowing. Halsin coughed. “I’m not much of a dancer. I may trample your feet.”

“That doesn't matter!” She giggled, and leaned in conspiratorially. “Everyone’s too drunk to notice anyway.”

Suddenly, she was pulling on his hand, tugging him to the wide patch of dirt that served as a dancing circle in the middle of camp. His heart hammered against his ribs, and it wasnt from embarrassment. 

He could vaguely recollect the steps, some hazy memories of his youth floated back to him as they began to whirl. A tavern dance, not refined in the slightest, but light and fast, more momentum than intent. While there was something to be said for his particular brand of ursine grace, it didn't lend well to dancing, and he let her lead. Her hands were so small in his, and she flitted around him, almost birdlike. 

“You’ll have to slow down, Tav, I’m not as young as I used to be.” 

She giggled, twirling under his arm. “I think you’re a fine dancer.” 

“The wine has apparently gone to your head, as well.”

“Perhaps. Or maybe it's just good company.”

The music slowed, and their pace changed. They circled each other, hand in hand. She held his gaze, not defiantly, but with tender trust. He hoped beyond hope he wasn't reading too far into her gaze. 

There was an ease to her here he hadn't seen before. The weight she carried throughout the battle at the goblin camp (and how fierce she had been, she had torn through their ranks like a diving hawk) had seemingly lifted. She wasn't a warrior, her hands were gentle as they gripped his, and so small. He loved her already, but even more so like this, when she was unburdened.

He wondered if this was what she was usually like, sans tadpole. There’s a terrible pang in his chest at the thought: that her days were numbered, that she might be doomed. It's quickly followed by a wash of righteous fury. It wouldn't happen. He wouldn't let it. 

She stepped in close. Their palms pressed together, chests nearly touching, and he nearly stopped breathing. She was so close, if he only leaned down, their lips would touch. He was halfway to her, his rational brain screaming to stop and his instincts screaming to kiss her until she couldn't breathe.

And then she pulled away, dropping into a curtsy. The song was over. 

There was already a  buzzing flock of people vying for her attention. Halsin released her hand and bowed out of the center of camp, excusing himself as she leaped onto a rock to begin a new number. 

It had been a long, long time since anyone had made him feel this way. 

He rolled into the grass, reveling in the coolness against his heated skin, and prepared to trance. 

Halsin smelled her before he saw her. Lilac and honeysuckle and musk, and the scent of the open road. She moved to lay beside him in the grass, and whispered, "Can I join you? Everyone is quite drunk, Karlach is sleeping in my tent for some reason, and I’m getting really tired."

"Of course."

He didn't expect her to nestle into his side, his heart began to hammer in his chest, his skin became hot. 

She gazed upwards, and pointed into the sky, at a smattering of stars. "That's the huntsman." Her hand drops back down. "At least I think it is. We didn't have much time for stargazing at home, and the city lights are so bright. But here? I feel I can see every single one."

Halsin pointed upward himself, “The… spine of the dragon? I realize… I don’t know exactly how to say it in common, that’s as close as I can get.”

She hummed. “I can see it. With the wings, there.” She gestured lazily, and he became aware of how close she was for the second time that night. He was less intimidated by his own feelings here, without the watchful eyes of the party, and only the music of night time insects, the grass rising around them like a shelter. She turned her face toward him, blinking slowly, and clearly holding back a yawn. “I think… I’ll just sleep here.”

“That’s fine by me.”

The rhythm of her breathing slows and evens out, and he brushes a stray lock of hair away from her cheek, running his thumb over the apple of her cheek. 

Tomorrow, she would take up her burdens again. She would brave her future with the noble ferocity he had come to admire, he was sure, but he would miss this carefree night. 

Whatever it took, he’d ensure she had many more to come.