#no one cares if im hurt and im an idiot because in the end the only one who cares is me and i feel so alone

[blearyfaced]

.

[erwinsvow]

little sad bitchy!reader moment: her and rafe are at the country club with topper and kelce and some other friends of rafe and one of the guys starts saying how she would be a horrible wife and mother (bc of the way she is) and she honestly is so hurt by it and i think she would almost try to change the way she is around rafe a little just so he wouldn’t think that about her…

sobbing thinking about it and listening to this (https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZTLX2Pdcv/)

hi my love this was so amazing and wonderful to write! im sorry its kinda long, hope you like it ♡

in all honestly, you stopped caring what people said about you a long time ago. you weren't the way you were because it was funny, or to get a reaction out of others. that was just the way you've always been, and there was nothing you hated more than letting people walk all over you and get away it.

that must be why the comebacks would fly out of your mouth before you could stop them, if you even wanted to stop them. why you never stopped to think twice about the people who didn't want to talk to you again or the boys who didn't want a second date.

you weren't easy to handle, not that you wanted to be, but you knew you weren't.

it seemed easy enough for rafe though.

he never seemed to wish that you'd bite your tongue or tell you to act differently, behave a certain way. no, he'd laugh and fire back something, or agree with you and say something you remember to add to your collection of insults.

rafe liked you as you were. that's why he fought so long and hard to get you, something that you didn't take lightly. you were committed, and the more days that went by, you found yourself softening up more and more with him.

rafe knew a side of you that a select few had ever seen, much less engaged with. you liked it this way, having a boyfriend you could be yourself around and be a little soft around.

until you overhear a boy at the club talking about you. in all your years of life, you've never let a boy make you feel upset, and you didn't want to start now. a comeback brews the second he mentions your name—of course it's the idiot one, the one whose parents pay for his grades and doesn't know anything besides losing at pong and scaring away girls—but it dies in your throat when you hear the words that follow.

"i mean i get it, she's hot, but i don't know how cameron puts up with her."

"what're you talking about? she's just like him," kelce says, and you feel briefly grateful for him.

"dude, she's a bitch. i've never heard one nice thing come out of her mouth. totally untamed. you can't bring a girl like that home to your folks, they'd hate her. especially his folks. and don't even mention long-term. imagine coming home after working all day and your girl is bitching at you? i mean, no offense but what kind of kids is she gonna raise?"

you hear laughter, and when your face feels wet, and you're confused for a moment. you look up at the ceiling, wondering if there's a leak, when your eyes flood again and more tears fall down.

crying, and that too over what one of rafe's friends said about you. this isn't like you. frankly, it's pathetic. those idiotic boys don't know the first thing about you or your relationship with rafe—they don't know the conversations you have and all the things you both agree on and the way he laughs when you fire back at him.

but somehow, feet leading you outside and to your car, fingers texting rafe some excuse for why you went home early, you end up letting it affect you.

rafe comes over the next morning—he texted you something but you didn't reply. worried for a moment about something you've never been concerned with before, you think a nicer girl would have texted him back right away, that you should have texted him back.

he doesn't knock, never does. your parents aren't home but he has your spare key, letting himself in and up to your room. he stops at the doorway, leaning against the frame.

"hey. what happened last night?" he asks it like he doesn't know what happened—which is good, you want it to stay that way. the thing you would have said yesterday bubbles up, coming to your lips. maybe if you'd gotten your head out of your ass, you'd see my text.

"wasn't feeling good. came home."

"you feelin' okay now?" he gets closer to you, and you look up at your boyfriend. i'd be fine but that asshole you already hate ruined my mood. will you run him over in your truck?

"better." you stop for a moment, you don't want him to think something's wrong. "how was your night?" he looks at you a little confused.

"it was fine. borin' without you. kelce asked where you went too."

"y'know i always liked kelce," you say, smiling again. you think you can get better at this.

rafe takes you out for lunch, and then you wanted to go shopping in the afternoon and get your nails done. it's a whole day, and you like spending it with him. you swallow down what your mind usually thinks and opt for being nice instead, polite questions and trepid commentary.

the waiter brings you the wrong drink—and though you're not so much of a bitch to hurl insults at teenager servers, you're normally annoyed enough to say something and get your correct drink. instead you sip it quietly, waiting for rafe to start the conversation. when you don't, he looks at you in that confused way again.

"you okay?"

"yeah. fine. you okay?"

if he thinks something's wrong, he doesn't say anything. at the mall, nothing looks how you want and even the things you like don't feel right. you'd let rafe buy you whatever you want, normally giving him a twirl in the dressing room and thanking him very sweetly.

"you want that dress?" rafe asks, his arm resting on a rack while you comb through mindlessly.

"no, it was too short."

"that's never been an issue before." ha-ha. pervert. looking up my skirt aren't you? knew you were desperately horny for me but this is down bad even for you.

"trying to dress better. and it'll be cold soon."

"hey, look at me." rafe uses his hands on your shoulders to turn you from the clothes, facing him. "you okay baby?"

fuck, you know you messed up. he only calls you that when he's being serious—the rest of the time it's princess, angel, sweetheart. all things that you are definitely not.

"i'm okay. i just don't want it. but thank you." you don't know it, but he thinks you're upset with him, spending the next hour in the nail salon racking his mind for the reason why.

your nails are fine, they look pretty enough. shorter than normal with a clean french manicure, you admire them from a distance. you suddenly feel like crying again, wondering why you didn't get the pink acrylics you like, rhinestones and bows and all the other things that were pretty to look at when you flipped people off.

in rafe's passenger seat after, you keep staring at your hands, feeling another tear slip down. rafe's not looking at you, he's looking ahead, still unsure what was going on.

"baby, if i did something you gotta tell me, i don't like seein' you like this-" when he turns his head to glance at you, you're looking back at him with your pouty face and wet cheeks—two things he's never seen before. "hey. what's wrong?"

you couldn't stop the downpour if you tried—tears falling quick and fast. you hate that anyone's seeing you like this, especially rafe.

rafe is nice to you, and you soften up around him. you didn't really realize that he softens up around you too. he wipes your tears away, keeps a hand on yours the whole time.

"can you talk to me? what's goin' on?"

"yesterday.. one of those guys said that i was a bitch-"

"which one? to your face? when? i'll fuckin' kill him-"

"no, he didn't know i was there. it's not that, i know i am. i don't care about that. he said that-" your voice cracks, something else you hate, that you don't want rafe hearing. "sorry. he said you couldn't bring me home. and that you would hate coming home to me-me being all mean. and that our kids would be mean too."

yes, you're mean. but rafe's mean too, and none of your friends have ever said anything like that about him. you like that he's mean, that he's like you—you think he's the closest thing to a soulmate you could ever find.

"don't fuckin' listen to any of them for a second, got it? they don't know anything."

"rafe, i-"

"no, seriously. they yap because i wasn't there to knock him out. and he says it when you're gone 'cause he knows you'd make him cry if you were there." you sniffle, though you already feel better.

"but i didn't. i started crying instead." you hate even thinking about it.

"s'okay, it happens. but don't believe a word of that shit. i wanna come home to you everyday. hear everything you say. i want all of it."

"really?" you ask him, wiping away your tears, appreciating the hand on your thigh and how sincerely he's looking at you. "i thought you'd be mean if i cried in front of you."

"it's hard enough to be mean to you."

"you're such a sap. should we go get ice cream and braid each others hair after this?" he laughs, and you laugh. "thanks rafey."

"no problem, kid."

"don't call me that." rafe groans, and you smile.

[dazevi]

vi x reader angst where reader and vi had something before lockup (maybe reader was desperately looking for her/a body for years and never got with anyone else because they loved vi). first time they see vi again, they’re kissing cait. vi has to make a choice (mayhaps someone tells vi how much, how long and how deep reader still loves vi)

SORRY THIS ASK IS LONG BUT NO ONE WRITES VI X CAIT X READER ANSGT AND IM FEENING FOR ITTTT CA

I’VE LOVED YOU FOR SO LONG | vi x fem!reader, angst, squint of fluff, wc: 10k | masterlist

content warnings: not much! angst!!!, brief caitvi, childhood friend!vi, firelight kinda!reader, tiny mention of blood, bit of an open ending, uhhhhh ….

note: sorry this took so long but i hope u like it! (struggled a bit with the ending so i left it kind of open and hopeful :P

Growing up in the Lanes was never easy. The air was always thick wit smog and desperation. But somehow, in the middle of all the grime, there were moments of light—moments that felt almost normal… sweet, even.

For Vi, those moments often came when she was with you.

You were the kind of person who seemed to radiate something soft, something pure, even in a place as unforgiving as here. You were always helping someone—patching up a scraped knee, sharing what little food you had, or offering a warm smile that could ease even the sharpest edges of the Lanes’ harsh reality. Vi, on the other hand, was tough as nails, like she always was. But when it came to you, that toughness often cracked, revealing a gentler side that few people ever got to see.

You met when you were both kids, barely old enough to understand the full weight of the world you were born into. Vi had just finished scrapping with a group of older kids who had tried to steal a loaf of bread from Powder. Her knuckles were bloody, and her lip was split, but she wore her bruises with pride as she swaggered down the street.

Then she saw you—someone small and delicate crouched beside a stray cat with a limp, gently wrapping its leg with a strip of cloth you’d torn from your own sleeve. Vi had stopped in her tracks, her usual bravado faltering as she watched you work with such careful concentration. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen anyone show that kind of… tenderness.

“Hey,” she had said, her voice rough but curious, “what’re you doing?”

You looked up at her, your eyes wide and a little startled, but then you smiled. “Helping,” you said simply, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

From that moment on, Vi couldn’t seem to stay away from you.

She’d show up wherever you were, always with some excuse—she was just passing through, or she needed your help with something, or she was making sure no one was giving you trouble. In truth, she just liked being around you. You didn’t flinch when she got into fights, didn’t scold her for her temper or her stubbornness. Instead, you had this way of looking at her, like you could see past all of that to the person she really was. And Vi, who had always felt like she had to be tough to survive and protect her family, found herself wanting to be softer when she was with you.

The two of you became inseparable, spending your days exploring the winding alleys and hidden corners of the Lanes. Vi would teach you how to throw a punch, insisting that you needed to know how to defend yourself. You’d laugh as she guided your fists, her hands warm and steady against yours, though she always ended up pulling her punches when it came to sparring.

“Can’t risk messing up that pretty face of yours,” she’d tease, though her voice would always carry a hint of something serious, like the idea of you getting hurt was unbearable to her.

“You’re an idiot,” you’d say back.

And she’d laugh, nudging you playfully against your shoulder, her all ears red as she looked at you, “But I’m your idiot.”

You, in turn, taught Vi the value of kindness, though you didn’t do it with words. You did it with your actions—with the way you’d stop to help a stranger, even when you didn’t have much to give, or the way you’d bandage up Vi’s cuts and bruises after a fight, your touch so gentle it made her chest ache. She’d sit there, watching you work, and wonder how someone like you could exist in a place like this.

And it also helped that Powder adored you too.

She’d often tag along on your adventures with her wide-eyed curiosity. You had a way of making her feel seen, of treating her like she was just as capable and important as the rest of you, and that meant the world to her. Vi loved watching the two of you together, the way you’d laugh and tease each other, the way you’d patiently explain things to Powder when she didn’t understand. It made Vi’s dreams of a better life feel almost tangible, like maybe, just maybe, there was a chance for something more than survival.

And then there were the jobs… or whatever she could get from Ekko.

They were never easy—running contraband, sneaking into places she had no business being. Vi loved the adrenaline of it, the thrill of a plan coming together, but there was always a part of her that thought about you while she was out there. She’d see something—a trinket, a piece of candy, a flower growing stubbornly in the cracks of the pavement—and she’d think of you.

She started bringing things back for you, little gifts she’d pretend didn’t mean anything. The first time, it was a shiny button she found while breaking into a some storage room. It was small and completely useless, but it was the kind of thing she thought you’d like. She tossed it to you when she came back, trying to act casual.

“Found this,” she said, her voice gruff. “Figured you could use it for… I don’t know, something.”

You’d looked at her, a little confused at first, but when you smiled and said, “Thanks, Vi,” she felt something warm settle in her chest.

After that, it became a habit.

She’d bring you scraps of fabric, little bits of wire and string, or a half-broken gadget Powder thought she could fix up for you. Once, she brought you a single daisy she’d found growing in a crack on the edge of the Lanes. She’d nearly crushed it during the job, and when she handed it to you, she was so embarrassed she couldn’t meet your eyes.

“It’s just a flower,” she mumbled, scratching the back of her neck. “Don’t make a big deal out of it.”

But you always did. Vi would pretend it didn’t matter, but her ears would turn red, and she’d fumble with excuses about why she’d brought you something in the first place.

She didn’t know how to say what she was feeling, didn’t even fully understand it herself. All she knew was that you made the Lanes feel a little less bleak, a little less hopeless.

And as the years passed, the your relationship with Vi only grew stronger. There were always moments when the certain feelings between you became almost impossible to ignore—like the time you patched her up after a particularly nasty fight, your fingers lingering on her cheek as you wiped away the blood, telling her firmly to always be careful, as your eyes search hers. Or the time she caught you staring at her with that soft look in your eyes and she felt her cheeks flush, her confidence faltering as she looked away, muttering something about how you shouldn’t look at her like that. You’d raise an eyebrow in response, then just laugh softly.

But neither of you ever said anything outright. Instead, you found comfort in the smaller things—stolen glances, the way your hands would brush against each other as you walked side by side, the way Vi’s walls would melt away when it was just the two of you.

You were more than just a friend. You were her safe place, her reminder that there was still good in the world, even in the darkest corners of the Lanes. And for you, she was your protector, your anchor, the person who made you feel like maybe you weren’t as fragile as the world wanted you to believe.

But the Lanes always had a way of taking everything good and twisting it into something painful.

The night everything went to shit was the last time life in the Lanes felt even remotely bearable. It had been tense from the start. Vander was gone, taken by Silco, and Vi’s face was set in that grim determination she always wore when she was trying to be strong for everyone else. You knew she was scared, no matter how much she tried to hide it.

You were in the back room of the Last Drop, pacing. Vi had told you to stay put, her voice sharper than usual, her gaze practically boring a hole through you.

“Don’t follow us,” she said, her tone leaving no room for argument. “Just… stay here. Look after Powder, okay? I can’t worry about you and her while we’re out there.”

You wanted to argue, to tell her you could help, that you weren’t as fragile as she thought you were. But the look in her eyes stopped you. So, you nodded, biting back the words you wanted to say, and watched her leave with Mylo and Claggor.

Powder sat on the couch, knees pulled to her chest, clutching one of her gadgets like it was a lifeline. She kept glancing at the door like she was expecting Vi to come back at any moment, triumphant and unscathed.

But you both knew better.

The hours dragged on, the silence between you and Powder filled only with the occasional sound of glass breaking in the distance or the low hum of Zaun’s underbelly. You tried to keep your hands busy, cleaning up the room, organizing scraps of whatever was lying around. Anything to stop your mind from racing. Powder didn’t really say much; she just watched you with wide, anxious eyes, her fingers fidgeting with the gears of her monkey bomb.

Eventually, exhaustion began to creep in. You figured you were working too much. You remembered Vi’s words in your head, telling you that she’s always careful, that she’ll always come back to you. And you tried to stay awake, tried to keep an eye on Powder like Vi had asked, but your body betrayed you.

Powder had been quiet the whole night, but as you drifted off, she glanced at you. She hated being left behind, hated the way Vi always told her to stay because she wasn’t strong enough, wasn’t capable enough. She wanted to prove herself, to show that she could help, that she could save them. And with you asleep, curled up in Vi’s bed, she saw her chance. Quietly, Powder slipped off the couch, grabbing her monkey bomb and a bag of supplies. She hesitated for a moment, looking back at you. She didn’t want to leave you, but she couldn’t sit there and do nothing.

Not when Vi needed her.

She crept out of the room, careful not to make a sound, and disappeared into the shadows.

The first thing you noticed as you stirred was the faint, low rumble of something distant but violent—a sound that felt like it rattled through the very walls of the Last Drop. You blinked, eyes fluttering slowly as you pushed yourself up. The second explosion was sharper, louder, and your heart leaped in your chest. It was a sound that didn’t belong to the Lanes.

Your eyes fluttered open, adjusting to the dim light of the room. Everything felt too still now, too quiet, except for the faint aftershock of what you had just heard. You rubbed at your face, trying to shake off the grogginess, and then you noticed it—bright, electric blue sparks flickering in the distance, visible through the small, grimy window. Your stomach dropped as a sense of dread washed over you. Your breaths came quicker now, shallow and uneven, as you sat up fully, scanning the room.

“Powder?” you called out softly, your voice hoarse from sleep.

You looked around, the familiar clutter of the space offering no sign of her.

“Powder?” you called again, louder this time, but the silence that followed made your chest tighten.

You stumbled to your feet, nearly tripping over a discarded piece of scrap on the floor. Your eyes darted around the room, searching for any sign that she was still there—a glimpse of her small frame huddled in the corner, the sound of her fidgeting with one of her gadgets.

But there was nothing.

The couch where she’d been sitting earlier was empty, the blanket you’d draped over her crumpled and abandoned. The faint smell of oil and metal lingered in the air, but it was missing the warmth of her presence.

“No, no, no,” you muttered under your breath, your mind racing as you pieced together what must have happened.

You remembered the way she had been clutching that monkey bomb earlier, the way her eyes had flickered with something desperate and restless.

She left.

Your knees nearly buckled as you made your way to the window, pressing your palms against the cold glass. The sparks of blue still flickered in the distance, bright against the dark, polluted haze of the Lanes. The explosions hadn’t stopped, and now there were faint trails of smoke rising into the air.

“Powder,” you whispered, the weight of her name heavy on your tongue.

She had gone after Vi, you were sure of it. The thought hit you like a punch to the gut, leaving you breathless. She was out there—your sweet, fragile Powder—in the middle of whatever chaos was unfolding.

And Vi… Vi had told you both to stay behind.

Now, you were running as fast as you could.

And when you got there, everything was on fire.

Buildings were crumbling under the weight of the flames, black smoke billowing into the sky and choking the air around you. The heat was suffocating, stinging your eyes and making it hard to breathe. You stood there, frozen, your wide eyes scanning the devastation. The ground was stained with dark, wet streaks that gleamed in the firelight—blood. It was everywhere, smeared across the cobblestones, trailing through the debris, pooling in some places as if marking the spots where someone had fallen.

But there were no bodies.

No sign of Vi. No Mylo. No Claggor. No Powder. Just… nothing.

Your chest heaved as you tried to take it all in, your mind struggling to make sense of the chaos. The silence was deafening, broken only by the relentless crackle of flames and the occasional groan of a collapsing structure. You called out for them. You spent hours waiting, searching and trying.

But, there were no voices, no footsteps, no cries for help.

Just emptiness.

Nothing.

The days blurred into weeks, the weeks into months, and the months into years. Time moved forward, but you stayed stuck in the same moment—the night everything fell apart. The fire, the blood on the streets, the faces of everyone you loved burned into your memory like scars you couldn’t erase. It didn’t matter how much time passed. You never stopped seeing them. Never stopped feeling the weight of their absence.

Life in the Undercity didn’t wait for grief. It didn’t give you the chance to sit still and process the ache in your chest or the emptiness that had swallowed your world whole. The streets you grew up on were darker now, quieter, yet somehow more dangerous. Shimmer twisted its way into every crack and corner, poisoning the air you breathed.

You still had Ekko. He stuck close, as much as he could, and you were grateful for him in ways you couldn’t put into words. But even with him around, the loneliness lingered anyway.

Nights were the worst. The silence of your small, dimly lit room pressed down on you, and your mind replayed every memory of Vi, Powder, Mylo, and Claggor. Sometimes, you could almost hear their laughter echoing in the distance.

Almost.

You never stopped looking for her.

At first, it was constant. Every waking moment you scoured the streets, searching for any trace of her. You asked anyone who would listen if they’d seen her, but no one had. Not a single person could tell you where she had gone or what had happened to her. Some said she was dead. Others said she’d been taken topside, to Piltover’s dungeons. You didn’t know which was worse.

You looked for Powder, too. Sometimes, you felt like you’d seen traces of her somewhere, certain colors she liked, drawings on the wall… It was like she was there, but she wasn’t… like she didn’t want to be found.

And years passed, but the hope never left you. Not fully. Even when the streets seemed colder, even when Ekko begged you to stop putting yourself in danger, you kept searching. You’d walk the streets at night, hood pulled tight over your head, hoping to catch a glimpse of her pink hair or hear her sharp voice in the crowd. Every time you saw a tall figure in the shadows, your heart would leap, only to sink seconds later when it wasn’t her.

You wondered, sometimes, if she was looking for you too. If she was out there somewhere, wondering what had happened to you. If she missed you the way you missed her. Those thoughts were the only thing that kept you going on the hardest days.

The Undercity changed around you. The shimmer trade grew stronger, its effects spreading like a disease. People you’d known your whole life turned hollow, their eyes glassy, their voices slurred. Survival became harder with each passing day. But even as the world around you crumbled, you held onto the memory of Vi.

Her voice. Her laugh. The way she used to look at you when she thought you weren’t paying attention, as if you were something more than just a friend. The way she used to bring you small, silly things from her jobs—half the time things she swore she’d found by accident, even though you knew better.

You missed her so much it hurt.

Then, one night, Ekko came to visit you.

He had news about Powder.

He’d seen her, he said. And it didn’t make sense at first.

He sat across from you in the dim, flickering light of the small hideout you’d both retreated to. His voice was almost hesitant, but heavy with something you couldn’t quite name. Regret? Anger? Grief? Maybe all three, twisted together in a way that made him seem older than he was, like the years had weighed heavier on him than they should have.

You were hunched over, elbows resting on your knees, your face buried in your hands. It had been another fruitless day, searching for a ghost you weren’t sure even existed anymore. Your body ached, your head throbbed, and the emptiness in your chest felt like it might swallow you whole.

And then Ekko said it—he said her name.

“Powder… she’s not the same anymore.”

At first, you thought he meant something else. Maybe she’d grown up like the rest of you, toughened by the streets and the weight of survival. Maybe he’d seen her, and she was angry, distant, bitter about the past. You could’ve handled that. You could’ve understood that.

But that wasn’t what he meant.

“She goes by Jinx now.”

You lifted your head slowly, confusion knitting your brow. “What are you talking about?”

Your voice was sharp, tinged with a nervous laugh that didn’t quite land.

“Powder wouldn’t call herself that. That’s not… that’s not her.”

Ekko’s gaze didn’t waver. He leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees, his expression hard but laced with pain. “It is her. She’s with Silco now.”

The words hit you like a blow to the chest. “No,” you whispered, shaking your head. “She wouldn’t—she’d never—”

“She’s different, (Y/n).” His voice cracked, just barely, but enough to make you flinch. “She’s not the kid we knew. Silco got in her head, twisted her up. She’s… dangerous now.”

You sat back, your body rigid, your mind spinning. This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real. Powder was sweet, shy, maybe a little clumsy, but always full of love and hope. Powder adored you. Powder idolized Vi. She’d never turn into someone like… like that.

“Where did you hear this?” you demanded, your voice low but trembling. “Who told you?”

“I saw her,” Ekko said flatly. “It’s her, (Y/n). She’s been running with Silco’s people for years. She’s the one behind half the chaos in the Lanes right now. You’ve heard about the explosions, the heists—the people disappearing. That’s Jinx.”

He swallowed hard, his jaw tightening.

“That’s Powder.”

You stared at him, the words refusing to sink in. It felt like someone had ripped the ground out from under you, leaving you floundering in freefall.

“You’re wrong,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “Powder wouldn’t… she wouldn’t do that.”

“I wish I was wrong,” Ekko muttered, his voice thick with bitterness. “But I’m not. She’s gone. The Powder we knew—she’s gone.”

“No,” you snapped, louder this time, anger rising to the surface as your chest tightened with panic. “She’s not gone. She’s just… confused, or scared, or… something. She wouldn’t just…”

Ekko’s face softened, but his eyes were filled with sadness. “I thought the same thing when I first saw her. I wanted to believe she could still come back, that maybe I could fix it. But she’s too far gone. Silco’s got his hooks right into her. She’s not the kid we grew up with anymore. She’s…”

He paused, the words catching in his throat.

“She’s dangerous.”

You shook your head again, your hands trembling as you pressed them against your thighs. This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be. Powder was your friend, your family. She was bright and sweet and full of so much love. She wasn’t… she wasn’t a monster.

The thoughts clung to you every night. Powder—Jinx—had become someone unrecognizable, and you couldn’t stop the questions from flooding your mind. What would Vi think if she knew? Would she be disappointed in you for not doing more, for not stopping Powder before it was too late? Would she think you’d failed her?

Vi. Her name echoed in your mind. You missed her in a way that was so all-encompassing it became a part of you. You missed the way she used to tease you, the way she’d smirk like she had the world figured out, even when she didn’t. You missed patching her up after a fight. You missed how she’d smile at you, telling you that things to brighten your day. You missed everything.

It was only recently that you realized why the ache felt so sharp, so endless. You loved her. You’d loved her for years, even if you hadn’t admitted it to yourself until now. It was why you couldn’t let her go, why no one else had ever been able to fill the void she left behind.

People had tried. There were a few who flirted with you, a few who asked you to dinner or drinks. But you’d always brushed them off, always found an excuse. None of them were her. None of them had her fire, her strength, the way she made you feel seen and safe all at once.

The years hadn’t been kind to you, but you’d done your best to survive, to keep going even when it felt like the world was crumbling around you. You’d thrown yourself into helping Ekko and the Firelights, finding purpose in their mission even when you felt lost.

You patched them up when they were injured, your hands steady as you cleaned wounds and wrapped bandages. You shared what little food you had, sometimes going without so they wouldn’t have to. You became someone they could rely on, even if you didn’t always feel strong yourself.

But that strength went away a couple months later—the day you saw her again. It was something you didn’t prepare yourself for. You hadn’t expected it at all.

The sunlight filtering through the cracks of the hideout’s makeshift roof caught on the edges of your hair as you worked, pulling ripe fruits and vegetables from the small garden that the Firelights had nurtured in secret. The air was damp but fresh, filled with the earthy scent of soil and the faint hum of life. You liked working in the garden—it gave you a moment of peace, a small break from the weight of everything outside.

When you were done, your hands were covered in dirt, and a bead of sweat traced its way down your temple. You wiped your brow with the back of your arm, sighing softly. A few of the others nodded at you in thanks as they carried the baskets of food away. You stayed behind, crouched by the water pump, scrubbing the grime from your hands and under your nails.

The cool water washed over your skin, and for a moment, you let yourself pause, closing your eyes as the sound of the stream drowned out your thoughts. But it didn’t last long. The quiet never did.

Once you were cleaned up, you shook off the weariness and decided to find Ekko. You’d been meaning to talk to him about something—or maybe you just wanted to hear a familiar voice. The hideout could feel suffocating at times, even though it was a sanctuary for many. Ekko had a way of cutting through it, reminding you that there was still something worth fighting for.

But as you made your way through the winding halls of the hideout, you stopped short, your breath catching in your throat.

In one of the side rooms, barely lit by the faint glow of sunlight filtering through the cracks, you saw them.

A girl with blue hair stood close to another figure, her delicate fingers brushing against the cheek of the person in front of her. You couldn’t make out their faces at first, your mind taking an extra second to register what you were seeing. But then the pink hair caught the light, vibrant even in the dim room, and your chest tightened.

Vi.

Your Vi.

And she wasn’t alone.

The blue-haired girl leaned in, her lips brushing against Vi’s in a kiss so soft, so tender, that it felt like the air had been sucked out of the room. Vi didn’t pull away, her hand resting gently on the girl’s waist, her shoulders relaxing in a way you hadn’t seen in years.

You froze, rooted to the spot, your feet unwilling to carry you forward—or away. Your mind raced, a thousand thoughts clamoring for attention, but none of them loud enough to break through the sudden ache in your chest.

She was here. She was alive. But she wasn’t yours.

You didn’t know whether to cry out, to step into the room and demand an explanation, or to turn and run before they could see you. You wanted to be happy that she was safe, but all you could feel was the slow, creeping weight of heartbreak as it settled over you.

Because in that moment, it was clear—Vi wasn’t yours to miss. Not anymore.

“You have some explaining to do.” The words feel foreign on your tongue, but they spill out before you can stop them.

You stand at the threshold of Ekko’s lab, chest heaving, heart racing in disbelief. The image of Vi with another woman—kissing her, holding her—flashes in your mind and it’s all too much.

Ekko stands abruptly, looking as startled as you feel. His eyes widen, and his hand instinctively scratches at the back of his neck, a nervous tick you’ve known him to do since you were kids.

“I—I was gonna tell you today,” he stammers, voice cracking slightly as he fumbles for his words. “We just got her last night… when we ambushed Jinx…”

Your breath catches, a knot of frustration and hurt tightening in your chest. “You ambushed Jinx? And now you’re bringing Vi back in like this? Without telling me?”

The words come out harsher than you intend, but it doesn’t matter right now. Your mind is spiraling.

Ekko holds up his hands, trying to calm you, his gaze softening. “I was going to tell you! I just… After everything with Jinx… I didn’t know if she was someone I could trust yet.”

His words hit you like a slap, and for the first time since you walked in here, a part of you slows down. After everything that happened, Vi could very well be someone you couldn’t trust. Someone who might have changed in ways you couldn’t understand. It stings to admit, but the doubt starts to creep in. You know Ekko—his loyalty runs deep, but he’s also careful. He always has been. You take a step back, your fists uncurling as you exhale sharply.

You swallow your frustration and let the silence settle between you, the weight of his words pressing down on you. Can we trust her?

The question hangs in the air, unspoken but felt, before you finally speak it.

“So… can we?” Your voice is quieter now, more hesitant. You want to hear reassurance, but you’re not sure if it’ll come.

Ekko doesn’t answer immediately. He exhales, a long, drawn-out sigh that betrays a weariness you hadn’t noticed before. When he finally looks up at you, his gaze holds something you hadn’t expected—a tenderness, a vulnerability. His lips curl into a small, almost wistful smile, and for a moment, you wonder if he’s seeing something you can’t.

“I think so,” he says softly, his voice quiet but steady. “I think we can.”

You sigh, blinking a few tears away.

“Who’s that… that girl she’s with?” You ask, your voice barely above a whisper, though your heart is pounding in your chest.

You keep your eyes on the floor, unwilling to meet Ekko’s gaze, because the truth feels like it might crush you. The girl you’ve loved for as long as you can remember, is with someone else now. And it’s hard to wrap your mind around it, let alone confront it head-on.

Ekko’s silence stretches out for a moment, the room growing thick with the tension that neither of you knows how to ease. But then, slowly, his eyes soften, and you can hear the careful way he breathes in, like he’s about to tell you something heavy. His voice is gentle when he speaks, like he’s trying to cushion the blow without sugarcoating it.

“Her name’s Caitlyn,” Ekko says, and there’s a noticeable pause before he continues, as though he’s gathering his thoughts, picking out the right words. “She’s… She’s an enforcer, but…she’s different. I don’t think she’s on Silco’s side.”

Your stomach tightens at the mention of Caitlyn’s name, and you can feel a bitter knot in your throat.You finally glance up at Ekko, your eyes searching his face, desperate for any trace of what this means.

“Are they…?”

Ekko looks at you for a long, quiet moment, like he’s weighing your reaction against his own thoughts. He doesn’t look at you with pity, though; there’s no judgment in his gaze. Just understanding.

“I don’t know,” he admits, his voice low. “But I think Vi’s been through a lot. And Caitlyn… I don’t know what they have, but I can’t pretend I understand it. I’m still trying to figure out where Vi stands with all of this… All I know is Vi wants her sister back.”

You can’t look at Ekko anymore. The pain of it is too much, a heavy weight that presses down on you like the sky is collapsing. You back away, trying to swallow the lump in your throat, your hands trembling slightly.

“I thought… I thought she’d come back for me, for us,” you say softly, almost to yourself. The bitterness in your voice is unmistakable.

Ekko doesn’t say anything for a long moment, but you can feel the weight of his sympathy.

Finally, he speaks again, his voice quieter, softer. “I don’t think she’s forgotten you. I think she’s just trying to figure out everything for herself… Besides, she was… actually wondering if you were still around.”

“She was?” Your voice is quieter than you intended, almost shaky as you try to grasp what he just said.

Ekko nods, though his face is filled with something close to guilt, like he knows how this news might break you. “Yeah. She asked about you when she came in… said she didn’t know what happened to you after… everything.”

You let out a shaky sigh, your chest tightening at his words. The weight of it presses down on you, sinking deep.

“Where has she been… all this time?” The question slips out quietly before you can stop it.

Ekko hesitates, his eyes softening as he looks at you. There’s a long pause before he finally answers, each word like a slow puncture to your heart. “Stillwater.”

The name hits you like a punch to the gut. You freeze, unable to process at first, the words echoing in your mind, bouncing off the walls of your skull. It’s a place that steals everything from you, even the will to remember who you were before. Your throat tightens, and for a moment, you can’t breathe.

Vi… Vi was there?

The thought twists something deep inside you, like a sharp ache that spreads through your chest and down into your stomach. It felt impossible to imagine Vi—your Vi—there. The strong, fearless girl you grew up with, the one who fought for every scrap of life she could hold onto. The thought of her, trapped in that hellhole, stripped of the fire that had always burned in her… it’s unbearable.

“You should… probably be talking to her about all of this.”

You freeze at Ekko’s words, your heart pounding in your chest. The thought of speaking to her again, of standing face to face with her after all these years, makes your blood run cold. Your chest tightens, and suddenly, breathing feels like a chore.

“I…” You try to speak, but the words get stuck in your throat.

What could you say to her? After all this time? The distance between you both feels impossibly wide now, like a canyon you’ll never be able to cross. The thought of seeing her, of facing the reality of what’s changed, of all the years that slipped through your fingers—it paralyzes you. You want to see her. You want to run to her and hold her, tell her everything you’ve kept locked away for so long, but you can’t shake the feeling that you’re not ready for that.

Your hands are shaking now, and you clutch at the edge of the table for support, your palms slick with sweat.

“I don’t know if I can do that,” you say.

Your voice cracks under the weight of your own fear. The thought of facing Vi, of seeing her and realizing how much has changed, of feeling the space that’s grown between you both—it feels impossible.

Ekko watches you, his expression softening with understanding, but there’s something else in his eyes, something unreadable.

“I get it,” he says quietly, taking a step closer to you, placing a hand on your shoulder. “You don’t have to rush into anything. I know you’ve been carrying this around for a long time.”

But the truth is, you don’t just carry the weight of all that time apart—you carry the weight of your own fear. Fear that she’ll see you as a stranger. Fear that you won’t know how to talk to her anymore. Fear that everything that once felt so easy between you and Vi will have changed beyond recognition. The thought of her not loving you anymore, or of you not being able to love her the same way, makes your stomach churn.

You bite your lip, unable to finish the thought, as your mind races in a thousand different directions.

“Does she know I’m here?”

Ekko’s gaze shifts, and for a moment, there’s a flicker of hesitation in his eyes. He looks like he’s struggling with something, something he doesn’t want to say, but he knows he has to. He shifts on his feet, a sigh escaping him as he scratches the back of his neck again, the tension in his posture telling you more than his words ever could.

“I… I told her you’re around,” Ekko finally says, his voice soft but weighed with caution. “Not here exactly, though. I wanted to warn you before…”

Before everything changes.

But a knock at the door stills the air in the room. It’s sharp, sudden, and it cuts through the heavy silence that’s settled between you. You don’t move at first and Ekko hesitates for a moment, then turns, just as the door creaks open.

And then, there she is.

You freeze, unable to breathe, unable to move as your eyes lock onto hers. It’s like the whole world stops for a moment—your heart, your thoughts, everything. She’s standing there, in the doorway, her eyes wide as they sweep over you. It’s as if she’s seeing you for the first time, like she can’t quite believe you’re here. That you’re real.

Her gaze flickers across you—your eyes, your face, the way you’ve changed over the years. You can see the shock in her features, the way her breath catches for a split second before she can speak.

“(Y/n),” she whispers, her voice raw, as if the sound of your name in her mouth is a shock to her as much as it is to you.

There’s a long pause. Neither of you move, neither of you speak, as if neither of you knows how to start, what to say. Vi stands there, her eyes fixed on you, and you can see the wheels turning behind her expression. She doesn’t look the same as the girl you once knew, but her eyes—those blue eyes—are still the same, full of emotions you can’t quite place.

Vi’s eyes trail down your form, and you can see her struggling to hide the way her gaze softens as she takes in how you’ve grown, how you’ve changed. You’re different now—more than just the girl she once knew in the Lanes—but somehow, at the same time, you’re still the same person. The one who was always kind, always caring. The one who had a heart too big for the world they were in.

You watch as her eyes linger on you, not saying a word, just staring. A small breath escapes her lips, like she’s struggling to hold back some emotion, some surge of feelings that are too heavy for her to put into words. She opens her mouth to speak, but then closes it again, like the words are stuck inside her.

“I, um… I have work to do, Ekko.” Your voice cracks, and you can feel the tears stinging at the back of your eyes.

You tear your gaze away from Vi, your heart pounding in your chest as if it’s trying to break free. The weight of everything, of all the lost time, of everything you thought you had buried, feels like it’s crashing down on you in waves.

You can’t look at her anymore. Not like this. Not when everything in you is screaming to hold her, to ask her why she left, to beg her to stay. But you can’t. Not yet. Not when the hurt is still so raw.

You turn quickly, brushing past Vi with a sharp movement, your steps frantic, but trying to remain composed. Your heart races in your chest as you feel the heat of her eyes on your back, but you don’t look back. You can’t. The moment you do, you’re afraid you’ll break, and you can’t afford to break now.

The door slams shut behind you, and you can hear the soft echo of your hurried footsteps fading as you walk away. You don’t look up, don’t let yourself feel the weight of the emptiness in the room, even though you know it’s all there.

But you’re not ready. Not yet.

Ekko watches the door for a moment, his gaze thoughtful and a little sad. He doesn’t say anything, knowing that nothing he could say will ease the tension in the room.

Vi stands there, still frozen, her mind processing everything all at once. The way you walked out, the way you didn’t look back, how quickly you shut yourself off. She swallows hard, as if trying to force her emotions to settle. But they don’t. They’re all tangled up in her chest. She wants to go after you. She wants to explain.

“(Y/n)…” Vi whispers the name, barely above a breath, as if saying it out loud will somehow make it real, bring back the girl she thought she had lost forever. “She’s… grown.”

“We all have.”

His eyes flicker to Vi, his expression unreadable. He takes a deep breath, trying to find the right words, but nothing feels quite right. He knows how this is going to land—knows it’s going to hurt, even though he wishes it didn’t have to be this way.

“I think she saw you and Caitlyn,” he says quietly. “Together, I mean.”

Vi’s body stiffens at the mention of Caitlyn’s name, her eyes snapping to Ekko in disbelief. The shock is instant, followed by a sharp pang of guilt that twists in her chest. Her mind races, trying to make sense of the situation—of the way you had looked at her, of how you had walked out without saying anything more, as if something between the two of you had shattered. And now this. She opens her mouth to speak, but the words get stuck, tangled in her throat.

Ekko slumps back in his chair, his fingers tapping restlessly against the worn surface of his desk. He doesn’t know what to say to either of them. His gaze remains fixed on Vi, her posture still stiff, eyes distant.

“She thinks you’re together…” Ekko looks at Vi with curiosity. “Are you?”

Vi’s heart stutters in her chest, and she looks away quickly, swallowing hard.

“No,” she answers, almost too quickly. “No, we’re not together.”

Her voice wavers slightly, the truth of her feelings suddenly coming to the surface, uninvited but undeniable. Caitlyn is kind and gentle, but it’s never been like that with her. She only met her this week. Vi doesn’t know what it is, but it’s not love—not like what she’s felt, and still feels, for you.

The kiss was… a moment of comfort, of trying to hold onto something familiar in a world that’s changed beyond recognition. It meant nothing. Or at least, it shouldn’t have meant anything. But now, knowing that you’d seen it, knowing that it might hurt you—it stings. And it stings more than she’s willing to admit.

Ekko watches her for a moment and sighs. He knows Vi well enough to see that flicker of something in her eyes, that far-off look, the hesitation that’s always there when she’s thinking about you.

“You don’t have to explain it to me,” he mutters, “But you do need to talk to her.”

Vi nods slowly, her gaze flicking toward the door again.

“Yeah,” she says quietly, almost as if to herself. “I know. I just… I don’t know what to say. It’s been so long, Ekko.”

Ekko exhales sharply, leaning back in his chair. “She looked for you, you know. She hasn’t stopped. And she’s been alone for a long time too, Vi. She deserves to hear it.”

Vi doesn’t respond. The words hit her harder than she’s willing to admit. She knows Ekko’s right, but the fear of rejection still clings to her like a shadow. She’s afraid of what will happen if she faces you, afraid of seeing that disappointment in your eyes, hearing the anger in your voice. Afraid that even if she tries, it won’t be enough.

She takes a deep breath, feeling the weight of the moment settling in her chest.

“I’ll go find her.”

The climb to the top of the tree feels longer than it should, but Vi knows she’s stalling. Her hands grip the wooden edges tighter than they need to as she hauls herself up, each rung feeling like a step closer to a moment she’s not sure she’s ready for. Ekko’s words still echo in her head—She’s probably already up there, and needs the space, but… she deserves to hear from you.

And now, standing at the edge of the makeshift platform high above the Firelights’ hideout, Vi spots you. You’re sitting near the edge, your legs dangling over, one hand resting loosely on the ground for balance. The jukebox below hums softly, sending the faint notes of a melancholy tune drifting up through the cool night air. The lights of the community twinkle far beneath you, and the laughter and chatter of the people below seem like they belong to another world entirely.

Vi freezes for a moment, her breath catching in her throat. You haven’t noticed her yet, and she’s glad for it because it gives her time to take you in.

It’s been years since she’s seen you like this—quiet, lost in your own world. There’s something familiar in the way you tilt your head as you gaze out at the lights below, something achingly reminiscent of the person she remembers from all those years ago. She can’t help but wonder if you’re still the same in other ways, too. If you still laugh at dumb jokes, or hum to yourself when you’re deep in thought. If you still carry that kindness in your heart, despite everything the world’s thrown at you.

But there’s also something different, something that makes her chest ache. You look older. Wiser, maybe. More beautiful than she remembers, though she feels like that’s impossible, because she’s always thought you were the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen.

God, you’re beautiful. The thought hits her so suddenly that it makes her chest ache. It’s not just the way you look, though that alone would be enough to leave her speechless. It’s everything about you—the way you seem so untouchable and yet so heartbreakingly human all at once. She feels like a fool for standing here and staring, but for the life of her, she can’t seem to look away.

And then there’s the way the moonlight catches on your face, illuminating the faint shimmer of unshed tears in your eyes. Vi doesn’t even need to see your expression to know what you’re feeling.

For a long moment, she just stands there, unsure of what to do or say. She wants to run to you, to pull you into her arms and tell you she’s sorry, that she’s here, that she’s not going anywhere this time. But she knows it’s not that simple. It’s never that simple.

Finally, she takes a hesitant step forward, her boots making a soft thud against the wooden planks. You stiffen slightly, your head turning just enough to catch her in your peripheral vision. You don’t say anything, but the way your shoulders tense tells her you’ve already guessed it’s her.

Vi hesitates again, her heart pounding in her chest as she moves to sit beside you. She doesn’t get too close, leaving enough space between you that you won’t feel trapped, but close enough that she can see the way your fingers grip the edge of the platform like it’s the only thing keeping you grounded.

For a few seconds, the silence between you is unbearable. Vi glances at you from the corner of her eye, her mouth opening as if to speak, but the words don’t come. She’s never been good at this—talking about feelings, finding the right thing to say.

But as she watches you, she knows she has to try.

“Nice spot you’ve got here,” she says, her voice softer than she intended. “It’s quiet… Beats the chaos down there.”

It’s not much, and she knows it. She winces at how lame she sounds, but she’s not sure she trusts herself to say anything more. She’s afraid if she does, it’ll all come tumbling out—the guilt, the regret, the years of wondering what could’ve been if she hadn’t been taken, if she’d fought harder, if she’d found a way back sooner.

You don’t respond right away, and she can’t tell if it’s because you’re ignoring her or because you just don’t know what to say either. She glances at you again, her eyes lingering on the curve of your jaw, the way your lashes cast faint shadows against your cheeks.

You’re so close, but it feels like there’s an entire world between you.

When you finally do speak, your voice is so soft, almost drowned out by the music drifting up from below. “It’s always been my place to think. To get away… I have Ekko to thank for it.”

Your words are simple, but they carry so much weight, and Vi feels the knot in her chest tighten. She wonders what you’ve been thinking about up here all this time. If you’ve been thinking about her. If you’ve been wondering where she’s been, what she’s been doing, why she never came back.

“I can see why,” Vi says, trying to keep her tone light even though her heart is pounding. “It’s got a hell of a view.”

She means the lights, of course, the way they twinkle below like stars scattered across the ground. But as she says it, she realizes she’s not looking at the lights at all. She’s looking at you.

You finally turn to look at her, and the look in your eyes nearly breaks her. There’s so much there—pain, anger, sadness—but there’s something else, too. Something softer. Something she doesn’t think she deserves but hopes for anyway.

“I didn’t think you’d come up here,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

Vi looks at you, her throat tight, and she wishes she had the courage to tell you the truth. That she’s here because she couldn’t stay away. That she misses you.

Instead, she just nods, her voice low and a little rough when she finally speaks. “I wasn’t sure if you’d want me to.”

You look away again, your gaze returning to the lights below, and Vi knows she should say more, but she’s afraid. Afraid of making things worse. Afraid of losing whatever small chance she might have left to fix things.

She looks at you softly, “How have you been?”

You don’t answer right away.

The silence lingers. Vi shifts slightly, her body aching to close the distance, to somehow make things right, but she doesn’t move.

Then, it’s you who breaks the quiet after a short while, your voice soft and tentative, almost as if speaking too loudly might shatter the everything around you.

“It’s hard to think about you in prison,” you say, the words stumbling out of you before you can stop them.

Vi stiffens at the mention of it. Her chest tightens, as though she’s been struck, but she doesn’t look at you, doesn’t dare.

“I know it must’ve been hard,” you continue, your gaze still locked on the flickering lights below. “Being in there… for so long. I can’t even imagine how it felt. It must’ve been… suffocating.”

Vi can hear the way you say it, that compassion in your voice that makes her want to crumble. You’ve always been so gentle, even when the world around you was anything but.

The memories are sharp, jagged shards of regret that pierce her chest whenever she lets herself think about it. The days in that cold, lonely cell feel like a lifetime ago, but the scars—physical and emotional—are still fresh. The world had felt like a cruel, unyielding force back then. Every day in prison, every blow to her body, every quiet, restless night, had worn away the person she used to be. She couldn’t even remember what it felt like to be carefree or loved.

“I was so… lost,” Vi mutters quietly, her voice rough from the weight of years. “I spent so long… thinking about all of you, of Powder… of the mistakes I made. If i had just… If I hadn’t stepped away for one moment, maybe I would’ve still been here… Here with Powder…. Here with you.”

You glance at her then, just a flicker of movement, your eyes soft with something like pity—but more than that, something else that Vi doesn’t have the courage to name. She knows you see her now, not the image of the girl who left, but the one who came back. The one who is trying—trying, at least—not to destroy everything around her with the weight of her mistakes.

Vi’s voice breaks the silence again, this time with something raw in it, something almost painful. She shifts slightly, her hand twitching by her side, wanting to reach out but holding herself back.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you while I was in there,” she says quietly, her eyes searching your face for any sign of recognition. “The thought of you… It helped get through most of my nights. I tried to dream of you... tried to imagine what you were doing, where you were… how you’ve grown... how much prettier you probably got. I kept telling myself, ’Maybe when I get out, maybe when I find a way out, I’ll find you again.’”

She stops, her gaze falling to the ground between you both as if ashamed to even say it aloud, as if admitting the depth of her thoughts all these years will somehow make them real. But it’s there, the longing she’s buried in the back of her mind, too painful to confront but too strong to ignore.

Vi continues, her voice quieter now, almost a whisper. “I wondered if you thought of me, if you looked for me. If you still cared… if I even mattered to you anymore.”

You stay silent as she speaks, your chest tight with something you can’t explain. The words sting in a way you’re not prepared for, like a wound reopened, and yet there’s something strangely soothing about them, too. The fact that Vi—after everything, after all this time—had thought of you… It almost doesn’t seem real.

But you say nothing, your gaze fixed ahead, unable to meet her eyes. You wonder if it’s better this way. If silence is all you have left to offer her now. Maybe it’s easier to listen than to speak, to keep everything bottled up inside where it won’t spill over and make a mess of things.

Vi takes a deep breath, her eyes shifting between the two of you, silently asking for something, anything that might make her feel less alone in this moment. But you don’t give her the answer she’s hoping for.

For a long while, neither of you speaks. The wind brushes past you, making the leaves rustle in the trees around the hideout. Below is quiet, almost peaceful, and the sound of distant voices and music fades into the background.

Vi watches you carefully, her eyes searching for something in yours, but she doesn’t push. She knows better than that. She knows that the years have changed you, just as much as they’ve changed her. She knows she can’t expect you to just forget everything, to instantly trust her again. But she hopes, more than anything, that there’s still something left between you both, something that could grow again.

“I saw you with her,” you say. “Ekko said her name is Caitlyn.”

Vi’s eyes widen at the mention of Caitlyn, her heart stopping for just a moment. The words seem to hang in the air between you both, heavy and charged. She opens her mouth to respond, but nothing comes out at first, as if the truth of its too much to swallow.

You feel her hesitation, the way she tenses, and it hits you in a way you weren’t prepared for. It feels like a sharp, cold pang in your chest. There’s a rawness in your voice that you didn’t even realize was there.

The way you say it feels like it cuts through the silence between you both. Vi looks at you then, eyes wide, searching, but she doesn’t speak. She knows she owes you an answer, but what answer could she give you? How could she explain everything that’s happened in the time between your separation and now?

After what feels like an eternity, Vi swallows hard, her throat tight. She looks away, her hands fidgeting at her sides.

“It’s not what you think,” she says softly, almost too quietly, the words coming out slow and hesitant. “I… I didn’t want it. She was just… trying to comfort me.”

Vi’s mind drifts back to Caitlyn, and she can’t help but sigh. She thinks Caitlyn’s a good person—for someone from topside. There’s a softness to her, a kindness that reminds Vi of the people she used to know back when things were simpler, when she wasn’t caught between the rubble of the Lanes and the ghosts of her past. But despite Caitlyn’s goodness, Vi knows one thing, something deep in her heart that she can’t escape: no one could ever be you.

No one could replace you. The girl she grew up with, the girl she used to dream about, the girl who haunted her thoughts long after she had fallen asleep. Vi’s chest tightens at the thought. The kiss with Caitlyn, the one you saw—it’s nothing more than a hollow moment, something that never should’ve happened. She wanted it to be you.

Vi shudders slightly. The kiss, the way Caitlyn’s lips felt against hers, it was nothing like the memories of you. Nothing like the way your hand used to fit in hers, how your laugh could fill a room with warmth, how you made her feel like she was worth something. Caitlyn could never make her feel the same way you made me feel, could never replace the way you made her feel alive, like everything in her life had a purpose.

“I couldn’t…” Vi murmurs to herself quietly. “I couldn’t feel that for anyone except you.”

Her hand slowly reaches out, her fingers trembling ever so slightly as they brush against yours. Her touch is gentle, careful, despite the roughness of her calloused palms, worn from years of fighting, of surviving. She holds your hand like she’s afraid you’ll slip away, like if she lets go, you’ll disappear, and she’ll be left with nothing but the echoes of a time she can never get back.

Your eyes instinctively shift to your hands, the same hands you once held as children. You remember how easy it was, how natural it felt when you were younger, sitting side by side in the dirt or on the roof of the Last Drop, fingers intertwined like nothing could ever pull you apart. Back then, it felt like the world was small, and nothing could hurt you as long as you were together.

But now—now, everything has changed.

Her fingers curl around yours, and the warmth of her touch sends a wave of memories flooding back—soft laughter, secret glances, the way her eyes would linger on you when she thought you weren’t looking. You blink, trying to keep the rush of emotions in check, but it’s hard when every inch of you feels like it’s trembling.

Vi’s eyes flicker to the ground below for a moment, her cheeks suddenly flushed, the soft red hue creeping up to her ears. It was that same familiar blush that’d show during the times she’d gift you a tiny present from those adventurous jobs she was in. She’s so close now, you can hear her breath hitch slightly as if she’s gathering the courage to speak words that she’s kept locked away for far too long.

“I’ve always loved you, you know,” she said finally. “I never got the chance to tell you…”

The words tumble from her mouth, quiet and unsteady, but every one of them feels like it’s been etched into her soul for years. She looks up at you, the faint redness still coloring her face as she holds your hand.

“I’d really like to make for the time I lost with you.”

The noise from the jukebox below, faint music playing through the speakers, the distant chatter of the Firelights—it all fades away, drowned out by the thundering silence between you both. You stare at her, your heart racing, a million thoughts running through your mind, but none of them can fully process the weight of what she’s just said. You feel the tears burn at the back of your eyes, but you refuse to let them fall. You just stare at her—really look at her—like you haven’t in years.

Vi’s ears are bright red now, her gaze flicking away nervously. She’s never been good with things like this, always hiding behind her strength, her toughness.

And now, it’s all laid out in front of you.

She’s always loved you.

You swallow hard, your hand squeezing hers as you finally manage to find your voice, even though it feels as if it’s been taken from you for so long. You’re not sure if you want to speak, if you’re ready to speak, but it doesn’t matter.

A single tear slips down your cheek, catching in the moonlight that spills across the roof. You huff, your breath shaky, and quickly turn your head, trying to wipe it away before Vi can see.

But you’re not quick enough.

Vi’s blue eyes are already on you, her gaze soft, understanding, and something deeper, something tender that makes your heart ache even more. She doesn’t say anything at first, just watches you quietly, her thumb gently brushing over your knuckles as she holds your hand tighter.

The silence stretches between the two of you, but it doesn’t feel heavy. It feels like the beginning of something, something you both need but are too afraid to admit.

“You’re such an idiot,” you murmur, your voice unsteady as you try to hide the way your chest tightens.

You shake your head, still unable to fully meet her gaze, the words leaving your mouth before you can stop them. The sting of the tear on your cheek fades as you try to swallow down the lump in your throat, but it’s useless.

Vi’s lips twitch, just a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. She’s always known how to make you smile, even when everything else around you seemed to be falling apart. Now, it’s the same thing. She’s still that person who knows how to make your heart feel lighter, even in times like this.

“I know.”

Her voice is soft, almost teasing, but there’s no mockery in it, only the acceptance of your words—because she’s heard them before. She’s known, deep down, that you always thought she was an idiot, that she was reckless, that she made mistakes.

But none of that mattered.

She’s always loved you. And you’ve always known it, even if you didn’t want to admit it at first.

She scoots closer to you, the space between you shrinking as she leans in, her body warm against yours. You can feel the weight of her presence beside you, the soft strength that always made you feel safe. Her hand tightens around yours, pulling it into her lap, and you let out a shaky breath, closing your eyes as if you can’t bear to look at her yet.

But her touch reminds you of who you were before everything fell apart, before the years, the distance, and the pain.

“I know,” she repeats softly, her smile growing. She brings your hand up to her lips, softly pressing a gentle kiss on your knuckles, the red still staining her ears as she nudges you with her shoulder.

“But I’m your idiot.”

And you want to laugh, want to smile and tease her like you used to, but instead, you just sit there. Just breathe.

Vi is here. She’s real. And she’s never stopped loving you.

And maybe—just maybe—you’re ready to love her back the way she’s always wanted you to.

ty for reading! | masterlist

[demonpiratehuntress]

recently read your baby!name x op characters and i was thinking what abt name x baby!op characters-

they somehow turned into babies for 24 hrs (like in your fic)

just randomly thought of this while scrolling thru baby op characters on pinterest lmao

anyways have a great day/ night~~

love this idea!! I just wanted to do baby (name) first since i've seen a few baby OP characters but im more than happy to do it!

i finally got my laptop back, but im actually so upset it took so long to be fixed, and that i couldn't get all your requests out sooner! im so sorry this took ages, and to everyone else who requested before i closed requests - yours will be out soon enough! once again, so so sorry everyone :(

taglist - @kabloswrld

baby OP Men! (Straw Hats, Law, Ace, Kaku)

featuring - Zoro x F!Reader, Ace x F!Reader, Law x F!Reader, Usopp x F!Reader, Luffy x F!Reader, Kaku x F!Reader, Sanji x F!Reader

summary - the OP men get turned into babies for 24 hours and naturally, you're the babysitter.

warnings - none except that i haven't watched far enough to know what Law and Ace were like as kids so them and Kaku will just be wild guesses. and there is no longer yellow font so i will just be making Law's colour blue.

ZORO

Waking up to the sounds of things breaking and crashing against other things wasn't uncommon on the Sunny. It has been something you'd all become accustomed to on the Merry, which just carried over to the Sunny. More often than not, the source was Zoro and Sanji, so you just rolled over and went back to bed.

Until the cry of an infant woke you right back up.

You looked down at yourself, sighing in relief when you realised it wasn't you this time. However, if not you then who?

You got your answer when you walked into the kitchen and spotted a green-haired baby fussing and throwing pots at a scowling blonde cook.

"Devil child!" Sanji yelled, earning him another pot to the face.

You laughed at the sight, and both of them turned to look at you. Sanji breathed a sigh of relief, while baby Zoro crawled across the countertop to get to you.

"What happened to him?" You asked the cook as you lifted the moody infant up into your arms, where he relaxed and cooed happily.

"That idiot got too cocky and tried to take on a devil fruit user without knowing what the devil fruit actually was," Sanji explained, throwing another hateful glare at the baby swordsman in your arms. "Now he's stuck like this for a whole day."

You volunteered to care for him, something that no one else seemed willing or able to do. You supposed it was fitting, since Zoro threw a tantrum every time he was with someone who wasn't you. It was funny really, how he would scream and throw things when you set him down or handed him to someone else and then immediately fall silent when you picked him up again. Zoro was not a clingy adult, but he was certainly a very clingy baby.

But you didn't mind.

He was calmest when you sat and watched the ocean with him perched on your lap, bouncing a little on your thighs as he tried to see over the railing. You laughed and lifted him up, setting the green-haired infant on your shoulders.

"That better, baby?"

He cooed and clapped his tiny hands, indicating he was much more satisfied now. Then his fingers found your hair, and be busied himself pulling and playing with it as you chuckled and let him be. His attention span was short, but even shorter now that he was barely a year old.

"Not too hard now," you reminded him, laughing when he just pulled harder. "Even as a baby you're a bully." That only earned you a whine and a harder tug on your strands, but you only laughed more because it didn't really hurt.

He ended up falling asleep on your chest that night, small hand fisting your shirt. You were humming and singing softly to get him to sleep, so it was a bit of a relief when you saw his eyes closed.

In the morning, he hovered over you with a teasing smirk on his face.

"So I'm a bully huh?"

ACE

After your encounter with the de-aging devil fruit user, you would think Ace would have been more inclined to avoiding him. But no, your boyfriend was super confident that he could take this guy on and not get hit with the de-aging beam, which is why you were now back on the Moby Dick with a very pouty infant Ace on your lap. He only wore a diaper, and had thrown a tantrum when you tried to put something else on. The crew was laughing and teasing him, which only made him poutier.

And also shoot little balls of fire at their shoes. He looked at you innocently, but you knew he did it on purpose.

Ace is just as naughty as you would think he'd be as a baby. If you lose sight of him for one second, he's gone and you're running around panicking and trying to find this troublemaker, which is much harder now that he's so small. You end up finding him under a table or crawling towards any set of stairs on the ship. And he'll giggle and smile innocently, instantly earning your forgiveness.

"You're a handful, you know that?" You huff as you pick him up right before he tumbles down some steps. "Stop trying to hurt yourself!"

Ace just cooed and reached for your face, patting your cheek affectionately before nuzzling his face against it. He becomes so clingy when you try to do work while babysitting him, always pulling your hair or squeezing your nose hard when you paid more attention to a chore than him.

"Ace! I'm trying to work, I'll play with you just now."

Ace babbles nonsense and starts to cry, making you sigh as you turn your attention back to him. Then he immediately stops crying and is happily giving you sloppy kisses all over your face, his mood changing in that split second.

You don't get any work done.

Ace also has a tendency to disappear when you set him down for one second, only to reappear by a screaming crewmate who's trying to put out a fire on their pants. The little 2nd division commander would howl with laughter and fall onto his back, before pouting when he realises he can't get up and then cries for you. Little Ace is a menace.

"You need to go sleep!" You sighed in exasperation as you rocked Ace back and forth gently, later that evening in your room. "Please?"

Ace just giggled and sucked in his tiny fingers, a very blatant 'no'. You sighed and sat on the bed, setting him on your lap. Trying to bounce him didn't work because he just got excited and more energetic. Then you finally remembered the one time he never fails to sleep, and you were almost mad at him for making you so tired and worn out that you'd forgotten.

You got him the softest food you can find in the kitchen, and watch in amusement as he falls face-first onto the bed next to the bowl. You quickly turn him over, laughing softly as you tucked him in.

LAW

Law doesn't make mistakes often, but when he does they have extreme consequences. Like now, when you'd warned him about something but he overlooked it, claiming it wasn't important. Which ended up with him sitting on your lap, looking at you with big, innocent eyes - an infant.

You weren't sure what to do with this tiny version of your pale boyfriend. So for a while you just sat there and kind of...stared at each other. He was looking into your soul - you were sure of it, because no baby has a look that intense.

"So..." You started, "What do you want to do?"

Blank stare. That's all you got. Law was not so different as a baby, he was extremely quiet and reserved, he didn't move much and he just stared. It was almost like talking to a baby doll.

"Right, um...are you hungry?" You tried again.

He blinked. Then he crawled off your lap, attempting to jump off the bed but being caught by you since he would very obviously hurt himself. He tried to glare, but he was so small and cute it became a very adorable pout.

"You're tiny remember!" You groaned. "I know you don't like asking for help but come on, you're going to hurt yourself."

He rolled his eyes.

"HEY!"

Then he giggled, something you didn't expect. Your jaw dropped, eyes going wide as he flat out giggled at your response to his little display of attitude. He was so cute giggling that you didn't want him to stop, but once he realised you were grinning at him he immediately went quiet and pouted again.

"You're impossible."

Another giggle, and you side-eyed him. He only giggled more before pointing to the bookshelf in his room. You sighed and took him over to it, letting him reach for whatever book he seemingly wanted you to read to him. Of course, it was a medical book.

You laid him against your chest as you leaned back against the headboard, opening the book and going to its contents section to decide which section to read to him. But he grew impatient, and reached out to grab a tiny fistful of pages and turn them over.

"Alright then."

As you began to read, Law listened intently and focused on the picutres, his eyes wide with interest. You smiled softly at the sight, marvelling at how cute he was when he was curious at this size. But he was still a baby, so after a few minutes of reading his eyes started to droop and he turned his body a little so he could grasp your shirt in his small fist. And then he was out, and you smiled and kisses the top of his head as you set the book aside and cuddled him.

Baby Law was so sweet and cute, even if his attitude was just like adult Law's.

KAKU

"And what have we learned?"

Of course, you couldn't expect a response from the man you were asking that question. That would be because he was now less than a year old, laying flat on his back across your legs and gazing up at you with big, innocent eyes. He just cooed softly and kicked his small legs lazily, reaching for you.

You sighed. The idiot had gone head-first into a fight he didn't properly think through. It was his most reckless move yet, and now he was paying the price as a baby. Simply because Jabra had pissed him off.

Kaku was a relatively calm and quiet baby. He didn't fuss much, and he wasn't too noisy. Adorably, he was also a shy and easily flustered little infant. But one thing he did want was your attention, and he wanted it the whole day.

So you carried him around the whole day, much like he'd done when you'd been babified. You rarely left him alone, and if you did it was only for bathroom breaks or like five seconds. You were afraid of leaving him around alone, because the other CP9 members could be mean and careless and some of them would definitely be rough with and bully him.

You had to admit, his little long nose was the cutest thing ever, apart from when he accidentally bumped it against you and then giggled. He was so sweet, rubbing the spot he bumped with his small hand and then giving you a sloppy kiss.

Baby Kaku is also very playful. Once he gets comfortable in his state. He tries to make funny noises with his long nose and then erupts into the cutest baby laughter right after. He will also curiously pull on his nose, only to have it wobble like a springboard when he's done, causing more giggles.

"Come onnnnn it'll be good!"

Unfortunately, he was very fussy with his food. You were trying to feed him some mashed potatoes, because that was the only appropriate thing you could find, but he just stared at you like 'really?' and kept his little mouth closed. After that, you were forced to go out and buy baby food.

Like Law, baby Kaku wants to be read to. But he won't be satisfied with the usual infant storytime books, because even as a baby he is much smarter than that. He prefers something historical, which may be boring for you but absolutely thrills him. He gets excited and bounces on your lap, tapping the book with his small hands while you're struggling to keep your eyes open.

When he's finally ready to sleep, he tries to fight it because he likes having you baby him like this. But eventually he drifts off when placed on your chest, because you're so warm and comfortable it lulls him into slumber.

When he wakes up an adult, he looks sheepish.

"We learned not to rush into a fight recklessly."

LUFFY

If you thought Luffy was a menace as a teenager, you were really in for it when he got turned into an infant by the same devil fruit user who'd done it to you. Of course, Luffy being Luffy, he forgot about that and charged straight into the fight without even considering your plan. And that's what now led to you having to carry a very fussy, very tiny Monkey D. Luffy back to the Thousand Sunny.

As expected, he is an active infant.

"Luffy no!"

But not only is he baby Luffy, he is baby Luffy with stretchy abilities. As seen now when he giggles loudly and grabs the mast, before propelling himself halfway across the ship. If Robin hadn't been around to catch him using her own devil fruit ability, you're pretty sure you'd be facing a sobbing, snotty-nosed little captain.

You have to chase this baby around the ship to actually change him or do any of the basic baby care things. He is so quick to crawl away when it comes to diaper-changing, but he is even quicker to crawl back with the promise of food, as usual. You cannot take your eyes off him though, because if you do for even one second he's gone and a ship-wide hunt for the naughty infant has to be conducted.

Infant Luffy is VERY good at hide and seek.

"Now where could Luffy be?" You say out loud as you walk around the ship, amused when a little giggle follows your words. "Maybe he's in the kitchen." Another giggle. "Or maybe he's right...here!"

And when you uncover his hiding spot and grab him, he squeals and tries to wriggle out of yours arms. But ultimately starts giggling and laughing uncontrollably as you tickle his little sides and smother his tiny face in kisses. He loves having all your attention on him, and will not hesitate to trip someone from the ground or reach around you to pull on their hair if they take your attention away from him for even a second. Baby Luffy is a lot clingier than grown up Luffy.

But if you sit him down in the aquarium or in the crow's nest and let him watch the fish or the water while you tell him stories about Shanks that he's told you before, he'll calm down a little bit and relax. His eyes will go big and he'll stare at you in awe as you tell him all of these stories, even if he doesn't really understand. And when you make big gestures to try and show him, he cutely tries to mimic you and make those same gestures with his little arms. Which always has you cooing at him and him giggling at how cute you found it.

He was so hyper that you almost couldn't put him to sleep, and you didn't think he would ever fall asleep. But after a while of you - once again - chasing him around the ship, you finally caught him and managed (somehow) to rock him to sleep.

When he woke up a grown boy, there really wasn't much difference in his behaviour, even after you told him about his infant self.

SANJI

Honestly you don't even know how it happened. One minute you're engaging the enemy, the next your old friend with the de-aging devil fruit appears and this time targets your boyfriend. Which is why now you're sitting in the kitchen with a pouty baby cook on the table, the two of you just staring at each other.

When he realises he can't cook like this, the poor blonde bursts into tears, looking so upset it breaks your heart. You quickly pull him into your arms and cradle him, and he slowly calms down and looks up at you with his big, round eyes.

"There we go," you smiled at him, kissing his little cheek. "It's okay."

If you think Sanji is clingy as a grown up, his clinginess soars to new heights as a baby. He will absolutely not let go of you if you're holding him, not for any reason other than you needing the bathroom. He wants your attention on him for the full 24 hours, which of course is nothing new but still makes you laugh every time he gets pouty when you're not looking at him.

He's also a very sly baby. He uses his cuteness to his advantage to get Zoro in trouble, because every time he cries and points to Zoro, you glare at the swordsman or chuck something at him, much to Sanji's amusement.

"You're ugly and annoying even as a baby!" You heard Zoro shouting when you'd left them alone for one second to fetch some food for Sanji. "Stop looking at me like that!"

"ZORO!" You chided as you walked back into the room, coincidentally as soon as Sanji decided to start bawling to exaggerate the situation. He pointed at the green-haired swordsman as he cried, making you sigh and smack him upside his head. This caused Sanji to stop crying and giggle, earning a glare from Zoro.

"Why, you-!"

"Zoro, he's just a baby," you sighed, "He's going to annoy you."

"He annoys me regardless," the swordsman huffed, walking away. "Just keep that little demon away from me."

Sanji stuck his tiny tongue out at the bulky man's figure as he retreated, making you laugh and scoop the cook up into your arms. He immediately relaxed and cooed happily, playing with your shirt as if it was the most interesting thing in the world.

Sanji is a fussy eater, which you kind of figured. He doesn't settle for just any soft food, he specifically likes pureed apple. So every time you have to feed him, you have to either feed him some you got from an island you had to stop at when you first found out about his preference, or you have to puree the apples yourself.

Changing Sanji's diaper is also easy, because he's very calm and he lets you do it without much fuss. You have no issues putting him to sleep, either, because once you've changed him for the last time at night, he's out like a light. And you smile and bring him to your bed to sleep, laying him in between your pillows.

When he wakes up, he's back to being a smug little mf because he woke up in your bed.

USOPP

Honestly you didn't even know what had happened while you had stayed on the ship to keep watch. The others all returned looking weary but otherwise okay, so you just assumed Usopp was too, and you didn't think to ask why Brook and Sanji looked so suspicious, passing something between them behind their backs. That is, of course, until you heard the unmistakable sound of an infant crying.

"What was that?" You looked at them, raising an eyebrow.

"What was what?" Sanji asked, laughing nervously.

The infant cried again, and you stalked over and pushed them aside to reveal your boyfriend...only smaller. Baby Usopp stared up at you with wide, terrified eyes, tears streaming down his adorably chubby cheeks.

"What the-How did this happen??"

You looked up, but everyone avoided your gaze and made excuses to leave. So you just sighed and picked the baby up, wiping his tears away and gently rocking him to calm him down. He did eventually, but the terror never left his eyes as he got hold of your shirt collar and never let go.

"Hey, hey," you cooed softly. "It's okay, I'm here."

When he calmed down, you realised he had been so scared that he'd messed himself, so you changed him. Poor Usopp was already so nervous and frightened as a grown up, that as a baby he was almost always shaking. But you put him at ease, and whenever he was in your arms he was calm, relaxed and very playful. He liked your hair, liked to play with it and also, apparently, eat it.

"Usopp no!" You laughed as you once again had to pull your hair out of his tiny mouth. His bottom lip trembled, and you quickly amended it by kissing his cheeks and giving him something else to play with.

He liked to tinker even as a baby. You gave him the safest things he could play with, and he would try to arrange it in a certain way that wasn't just a jumbled mess. You were very impressed when he managed to stack all the gold coins you'd given him to play with - under Nami's strict supervision, of course.

However, he was naughty when it came to being fed. It wasn't that he was a fussy eater, he just liked to play with his food. And he had incredible aim, so every bunch of food he threw landed on its intended target. Which was you. Sanji had tried to feed him, but the stress of wasted food got to him and you had to replace him before he yelled at poor baby Usopp.

Putting him to sleep is relatively easier than putting anyone else on this list to sleep. As soon as you noticed his eyes drooping while you told him a story - one of his own made-up adventures - you picked him up and placed him on his bed, and he was out.

When he woke up in the morning, all grown up, he groaned.

"That was the scariest experience of my life."

A/N: I'm so sorry if this seems rushed or isn't as good as you expected, it's been a busy few weeks and i'm so mentally exhausted but i really wanted to get this out for you! Again, requests that were in my inbox before i closed them will be posted as soon as possible! Please just be patient with me, 2024 is turning out to be a weird year for me.

[yanderefarm]

I need me a silivan request, like vampire reader is at one of those vampires parties, silvan was sitting on reader’s lap all dolled and pretty, and then one of a high statue vampire would be memrized by silivan and would ask reader to buy silivan fron him, and at that time reader was getting confused by his feeling, he got attached to his pet, and acted jealous on the other vampire.

cw;; dehumanization, fluff,

this is such a cute idea. thats your pet!!!

this was your first party with silvan as your pet after centuries of seemingly looking down on the practice of pet humans. you still weren't sure about keeping him, he seemed fragile and delicate and stupid. even now at a party where he should be passed around and adored by every hungry horny vampire in the place he was clinging to you. his little hand gripped the back of your shirt tightly like a child afraid of getting lost. was it cute? maybe.

you decided to be generous to the frightened human and grant him permission to sit with you while you talked about work. he sat in the chair next to you and you pulled him back up immediately.

"humans don't sit there."

"im sorry... where do i sit, sir?"

that's how he ended up in your lap. it attracted many eyes to you but they still kept to themselves. they were smart.

the bold idiot who approached you wasn't.

you were minding your own business when this fool came up to you. you recognized him as someone who had recently came into ownership of a large human farm, he was still only a baron though. he smiled at you and then even wider at the pretty thing on your lap.

"did you get a pet, my lord?"

you let out a heavy sigh. "i haven't decided yet."

"how much would you sell it for?" the other vampire reached out and grabbed one of silvan's curls. silvan tried his best not to move but he pulled back into your chest slightly.

".... i don't know."

"it looks pretty high quality! where did you get it?"

this guy's voice was uniquely grating on your nerves. how he kept referring to silvan as an it, how he looked at him like an object. there was this feeling in your stomach that he wasn't just seeing silvan as an object but as an object that would increase his own value. he didn't even like silvan properly! he only cared because silvan was with you.

"i had him bred specifically to be beautiful. if he were for sale I'm sure he would be worth more than anything you own."

you could tell you hurt his pride with that. "that's... I'll have you know I've come into a lot of wealth recently, my lord!"

"oh?" you feigned ignorance. "oh i did hear about you acquiring some land."

"the 5th largest farm in your territory and 3rd in quality." he puffed out his chest in pride. like you don't own number one on both of those lists. god this guy is annoying.

"then you can have him if i can have that." you smiled smugly watching his face immediately falter.

"h-huh? but that's..."

"you don't want my specially bred pet?"

"he-he's certainly beautiful!! if-if you get into the breeding market you should let me know first thing!!!" he scurried off.

you hugged silvan's small frame tight against your body without thinking, wrapping yourself around him like a protective blanket. the silver haired boy was blushing in your arms his entire face red while you were pouting.

"sir... are.. am i.. yours..?" silvan asked tepidly his voice just loud enough for you to hear.

you felt his warmth from his embarrassment seeping into your body and you held him even tighter. your cold heart yearned to beat.

"yes. you're mine. no one else can have you."

[periprose]

Can I have a Logan Howlett x Angel!Fem!Reader where Logan sees the reader in the kitchen having a bit of a meltdown and uncomfortable feeling over holding a knife (for like, cooking reasons or smth) and he calms her down because the reader just doesn’t want to hurt anyone :(? I’d appreciate it thanks! (I’ve seen you wanted more Angel reader, so im here to reciprocate :3)

AHhhh this fits so well Anon (maybe unintentionally so, the previous fic had a little snippet about Angel's mom trying to stab her when she was young...) but I love your brain. I made it a bit longer and added some stuff and it's set before the previous Logan Gains a Guardian Angel fic (LGGA for short) so they're not together yet.

Knives Drip Chocolate (or, Logan Gains a Guardian Angel)

Word Count: 2.9k

Genre: Angst, fluff, hurt with comfort, mutual pining, idiots in love, mild traumatic flashback stuff (but no violence)

LGGA Masterlist

Logan is always ready for a late-night snack.

It’s hard for him to feel full, a lot of the time– he didn’t always have the easiest access to food, and he’s known for a while, if there’s a brief period in his immortal-like life where he can just relax about food and supplies, he shouldn’t take that for granted. 

Plus with an accelerated healing factor, sometimes his body starts digesting food too quickly, leading to faster body repair, but nothing to feel satisfied about.

So he’s got tons of cravings. Something that you are constantly bothered about, even now, as Logan knocks on your door, asking yet again if you’d accompany him to the kitchen.

Not that you actually mind. Sometimes you think you’d follow Logan into hell if he asked nicely enough, despite your occasionally evasive attitude keeping him on his toes.

“Angel, please. I’m starving.” Logan’s grumpy complaints are muffled behind your door, and you wonder why a nearly 200 year old man needs you so badly, to be by his side, when he’s spent so long being a loner.

“I’m coming.” You yawn, pulling yourself out of your bed– Storm is your roommate, and she’s passed out, stone cold. You quickly finger comb your hair, and fix your giant t-shirt, so your shoulder isn’t so exposed.

Silly, because you know Logan doesn’t care.

It’s bad. It’s really, really bad, because you don’t want to get attached to Logan, not when he’s sure to toss you aside like he’s done with the rest of them eventually. But you can’t help yourself– Logan is easy to be around, he knows your fears and little quirks, and he has never treated you like you’re so different for being a little quiet, like him. 

You know everyone has noticed. When you open your bedroom door, and Logan stares at you for a moment– an unreadable, soft glance in his eyes, one that you could choose to ignore, but don’t, as you stare back at him– you know all the other X-Men see it. Some silly crush you have on him, that clearly confuses Logan himself as he shakes his head, and pulls you by the arm out of your room, your PJs and hair askew.

Logan himself looks good, you have to admit– wearing lazy sweatpants and a white tank-top, his arm muscles looking especially defined tonight– and you pull your arm away, embarrassed that you give into these feelings so easily.

He’s only ever going to be your best friend. Even now, there’s nothing romantic about the way Logan asks if you want a ham and cheddar sandwich, too. He’s just looking out for you. 

Jean, Scott, and Storm have literally asked you, more than once, if you and Logan had maybe slept together, or kissed, or anything that would be a culmination of some supposed lust, in which case you always laugh awkwardly and deny everything. 

Your excuse is that it’s deeper than that, and it’s one-sided. What would be the point of bringing it up if it would just end in heartbreak?

“Earth to Angel.” Logan shakes your arm, breaking your stride. “Hey, that’s kind of funny, isn’t it? You’re always up in Heaven. Daydreaming about who the hell knows what.”

“Haha, Logan.” You mockingly say in a deadpan voice. “What is it?”

“Your wings are flexing a little bit, again, like they’re about to open. They’re kind of pulsing.” He says it in a soft tone, ushering in some concern he has, and you find yourself wishing that you were someone normal, someone that Logan didn’t have to care so much about. 

It’s not that you’re not happy to have his concern, it’s just that you don’t know what to do with it. Thank him for it? You have never been used to people looking out for you.

“It’s fine. Sometimes I get muscle spasms, it’s nothing to worry about.” You mutter, knowing it has to do with anxiety, but Logan looks a bit unconvinced.

“Okay. But if you keep having weird tremors, I’m taking you to the hospital wing so you can get diagnosed.” Logan states, and you open your mouth to argue, but he tuts. “No arguing about this. Last thing we need is for you to die from stress or cancer or something.”

Your heartbeat quickens, not at the mention of cancer, but because Logan used we and now you’re just thinking about how you’re always together.

Not like that, though.

“Okay, Logan. I get it.” You shake your head. “I won’t die.” 

“Not yet. We got snacks to eat.” Logan agrees, as he leads you into the kitchen.

/

Logan’s got you working on making hot chocolate as he makes the sandwiches, pan-frying them till the cheese is hot and melty. 

It’s not really a common mix, you think, but you’re just happy to be helping.

“Careful. Milk boils over fast.” Logan comments from next to you, mostly focused on his own side of the stove, and you roll your eyes.

“I know that.” You retort, but as you look away from the stove for one second, the pot of milk nearly does boil over, and you swear, reducing the heat quickly.

Logan starts laughing. “Told you.”

You shove him lightly, and he has a stupid grin on his face, one where you know Logan takes such joy in teasing you at times. Like this is one of the greatest pleasures in life.

You move the milk over to the counter, to let it cool, and then remember something semi-important. 

“Logan? Don’t forget, Scott wanted extra ham for the Hawaiian pizza they’re making tomorrow–” As you’re reminding him, Logan wordlessly shows you the empty ham package, telling you that he used all of it for the sandwiches.

“You snooze, you lose.” Logan shrugs, and you close your eyes in partial defeat, trying not to laugh at his antics.

“I guess, but you never seem to lose, and Scott’s always chewing me out for your ‘mistakes.’” You point at yourself, tongue poking through the side of your mouth, and Logan raises his eyebrows. “Tell me: Am I snoozing, or are you just lucky that I take the blame?”

“Ah, Angel… you’re obviously asleep.” Logan smirks, and you scoff at his audacity, having expected a semi-apology from him. “No one ever said you had to take the blame for my snacks. You could’ve just told him it was Jean, and he wouldn’t have asked any questions.”

You blink at him. “Lying to our team’s leader aside, why Jean?”

“C’mon. Scott’s crazy over her, they’ve been together for however long, and he can never say no to her. It’s the perfect excuse– he wouldn’t even ask her about missing food, so not to offend his sweetheart.” Logan pauses, a thoughtful look taking over his features, and he scratches his chin. “I guess love really is blind.”

“Wow. You had that takeaway based on gaslighting both Scott and Jean? You really are an unfeeling old man.” You giggle, and Logan glances over at you, his face heating up at your laugh, a sweet sound that always pushes a warmth into his chest.

If Logan was honest, he understands Scott perfectly. Sure, he could play the part of the curmudgeonly old man, and lie to you– but in truth, he was doing that because he likes you.

Just like Scott. Logan likes you so much, that he would honestly lie to you just to protect your relationship– whether that be about missing food, or if you talk about some other dude someday, and he has to pretend he’s all ecstatic for you, as he often worries about. 

He knows it’s bad. And he doesn’t like it, either. Logan insists to himself, in pure self denial, that this love he has for you doesn’t exist, because he would rather be given even a little bit of your presence as a friend, than to be entirely shut out by you upon imminent rejection.

But even he knows he protests too much. Of course he loves you, how could he not?

Logan thinks of you as his personal guardian Angel. It’s silly, of course– but you’re the one who helps him make better choices, doing the right thing more often than not. He’s an idiot– you’re a beautiful genius of a woman, and it bothers him so deeply that you keep to yourself.

He looks over at you. You’re chopping up a bar of dark chocolate, and your gaze is intensely focused– Logan has seen the same expression on you when you’re beating up a bad guy. You’re thinking, murmuring something to yourself, probably thinking about hot chocolate.

Your eyes turn wide, glassy, and you inhale sharply.

Logan immediately comes to your side. “Angel?”

Logan’s voice doesn’t fully register to you.

The knife gleams in the low lighting of the kitchen, as you turn it over and over in your hand, dark brown chocolate smudging the blade, and then you look down to your palms.

Where your hands are covered in dark, melted chocolate, after you’ve been holding the chocolate bar to chop it up– the liquid is almost amber in hue. 

“...blood.” You whisper something unintelligible, but Logan catches the last word.

You retch to yourself, hyperventilating over the counter, back hunched over, the knife still clenched in your palm.

“Angel, hey–” Logan squeezes his way between the counter and your right arm, where your hand is holding the knife, and he firmly pulls it away from you, grabbing it blade-first without even thinking about it, and you gasp, shouting at him to get away.

Logan stops, at a loss for words. You’re trembling, you’re no longer holding the knife, but you can’t stop looking at your hands.

He grabs your arms a bit more gently, turning you towards him, and you’re lost in some train of thought that Logan can’t stop.

Mom sliced up one of my hands once… it’s been years, but it looked just like this.

Then I got her back, by accident… it was an accident, Angel.

“What’s wrong?” Logan looks down at you in fear, worry that something may actually be very wrong, and you haven’t told him a thing.

He thinks he shouldn’t have assumed you were always alright. He knows you aren’t– he just finds it difficult to surpass your avoidant attitude. He’s never seen you have a full blown panic attack like this before.

Your wings are subtly twitching again, folded against your back, but threatening to open up to full expanse, and you shake your head, lip quivering, as you look down at the floor.

“I don’t want to hurt anyone.” You utter so softly, so heartbreakingly tiny, and Logan feels himself turning cold at your words, wondering if you’d really done something that terrible.

With a kitchen knife, of all things. He wants to hug you firmly now.

He knows even if it was true– there’s no way that was your fault, no way Logan wouldn’t have sussed that out based on instinct. 

“It isn’t…” Logan starts, wanting to say it wasn’t your fault, but he doesn’t know how that will go over with you. “You’re not going to hurt anyone. Where is that coming from?”

“Just a bad memory.” You say with a shaky breath, the most information you’re willing to give him at this moment, and you know– you know– Logan is never going to be satisfied with that answer.

You don’t want to scare him off. This is the first time you could even say you have a best friend, and you don’t want Logan to pity you or feel like you were incapable of taking care of yourself. You don’t want him to see you like your mother did.

Logan frowns. Then, instead of asking you a question, he traces the back of your wings, which causes a shiver in your body.

You close your eyes, expecting to feel tense, scared, and horrified, but instead you feel calm, almost placid. Being touched by Logan makes you feel like everything is going to be alright.

Your wings stop shaking, and Logan hands you a wet paper towel. You wipe your chocolatey hands, which puts you at ease, seeing your clean hands again. 

“Sorry. I don’t mean to make you my caretaker.” You whisper, always worried about others’ perception of you, and Logan shakes his head.

“I don’t mind, Angel. As long as you’re alright.” Logan has a tentative look on his face, and you’re almost embarrassed, that you like being taken care of so badly, and he hugs you tightly, arms wrapped around your back, a near bone crushing hug that has you nestled in his chest, fit under his jaw as he places his head on top of yours.

Your heartbeat slows down. You’re not panicking any more, but it seems like Logan, too, is reaping some sort of benefit by being so close to you. He inhales deeply, and the sigh rumbles through his chest into you.

You could almost cry. You spent so much of your childhood never being close to anyone, and being held is cathartic in a way you can’t even describe.

Logan doesn’t let go until you do. Then he has the audacity to look a little sheepish, like he had done something un-Logan and uncool, and you almost feel pained, like you should push him away, and go to sleep on your own.

It’s such an odd feeling, to both want his concern, and to wish you never needed to do so.

You stare up at him, and Logan smiles, a soft smile that he hopes reads as comforting rather than a snarl, and you can’t help yourself for what you ask next.

“Could I sleep in your room?” You ask, biting back the immediate disclaimers of it’s okay if you don’t want to. “I’m just better when I’m around you.”

There’s also the thing of waking up Storm if you enter back in now, and explaining that you had yet another panic attack. She’ll be mad.

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s okay.” Logan murmurs, wondering if you meant to make that sound so devotedly sweet, something that causes his insides to seize a little.

He feels better around you, too.

You’re usually good at hiding this side of yourself from him– it’s another step deeper, another step too far into your relationship to take back– and now you worry you’ll never really be able to separate.

Logan ruffles your hair, and all is right again.

/

He makes you eat at least a bite of the sandwich, and sip a little hot chocolate– the rest is placed in the fridge for some other mutant to eat.

Logan won’t let you go to sleep without a meal, or in this case a few nibbles, if he can help it.

“Moods are worse on an empty stomach.” Logan grins, and you smile, feeling a little more at ease.

“You’re not you when you’re hungry.” You joke, and Logan rolls his eyes. 

“Yeah, save that for when we’re pilfering Kurt’s Snickers bars.” He snorts. 

Logan leads you to his room, oddly silent the entire time. It’s not that Logan isn’t typically quiet, it’s that it feels more tense. He’s keeping to himself, and he doesn’t seem to have anything against you– he has only a kind expression for you, when you meet his eyes.

Finally, you both arrive to his bedroom door. Logan is lucky– he doesn’t have to room with anyone– and you’ve been in here plenty of times.

Still, that doesn’t explain why it takes him a second to enter in the room, as you follow him in.

It’s sparsely decorated in here– one poster of the Calgary Flames is on Logan’s wall, and there’s a mug with random, assorted pens on his desk. His bed has never been filled with loads of stuffed animals and pillows like other X-Men (read: Jubilee) would have. There’s a pile of assorted flannels, jackets, and scarves hanging off a coat rack.

It’s comforting, though. Logan is a simple man, and you like being close enough to understand him, to see the small remnants of things he likes.

“Well. The bed’s there, if you’d like. Don’t let me stop you.” Logan points to the bed, and he starts walking towards the leather recliner next to the window.

“Logan. Stop.” You grab him by the arm, and he pauses, slightly scared, mostly enthused by what you’ll say next. “It’s okay with me if we sleep next to each other.”

“...Okay.” Logan watches as you climb into his bed, hoping it’s comfortable, and doing a weird thing of personally memorizing the way you lay and snuggle down, in case you never do this again.

You’re next to the wall, so Logan stays on his side, lying down close to the edge of the bed. And you’re keeping your distance– so is he.

You turn, and Logan is already looking at you. He glances away.

“Good night, Angel.” Logan utters softly, and with that, you turn to your side, to fall asleep.

/

When Logan wakes up, he freezes, so not to move you. Somehow, through out the night, you ended up snuggled around him, sprawled against his chest, your arms lightly wrapping around him.

He loves it. He’s glad to see he’s been useful for once– he gave you a good night’s sleep.

[konigsblog]

I, personally, hate the r@pe things you write.

I feel very strongly about SA and I know my feelings aren't your priority. I used to read your stuff a lot then actually ended up blocking you, but I decided to unblock you for this message.

I know a lot of people use this as a coping mechanism if they ARE victims, but hey, to each their own. You can't save everybody.

I just don't fuck with it. It's not my forte, but I know, deep down, you're not a bad person. Your brain just doesn't completely function. I, myself, have weird fantasies about military men and serial killers, but only about one's from shows, movies, or basically anyone fictional. I, myself, am extremely weird and I think I have a few mental disorders but I haven't gotten tested.

The things you write are vial, disgusting, and down right crazy, but hey, I used to fantasize about r@pe and honestly can't even imagine myself fantasizing about being violated now. I guess I've healed in a way or whatever, but I'm still into rough play and knives and such.

What im trying to say is, I feel for you and don't like your stuff at the same time. Nobody with a normal functioning, properly working brain is into what your into. It's just plain wrong. But that doesn't mean you're bad. You're just...mentally unput. Or, that's my assumption from first hand experience.

I just feel like your brain is messed up. Not in a quirky " I'm so twisted⛓️" way, but there's actually something wrong in there. Like, you're actually missin' a few dozen screws.

I have awful intrusive thoughts about hurting, killing, and/or fornicating with them and I hate this because it's a mental battle that honestly makes me wanna commit, which is why I feel so strongly about r@pe, especially as someone who gets catcalled a lot, and I am in dangerous situations often.

R@pe is worse than murder in my opinion because you can't hurt once you're done and dead, but being a survivor is an actual psychological battle that's torture, and torture is ALSO worse than murder.

I'm glad to know you don't actually support real SA and have some actual boundaries unlike the tons of idiots that I've blocked that do. Most of them have never even come close to experiencing SA, or just plain don't care.

I just think you feel this way because an actual issue with your brain. I don't mean this hatefully, even though I hate what you write. But that's just my analysis. But I am curious to know what made you this way.

you're a disgusting piece of shit, you don't know me, and let's keep it that way

[bjhlvr]

nice guy.

synopsis! he knows it's weird, but he couldn't help it.

STALKER! taesan x FEM! reader GENRE! smut, university au TW! reader is being stalked ( obviously ), mentions of chocking, sub!taesan, masturbation, public touching whtw that is idk, overstimulation(?), plot twist haha ; non proofread, poor language NOW IS PLAYING! . . . the boy is mine by ariana grande

fuck, that's so weird. he is such a weirdo. but he couldn't help himself.

“fuckfuck..” taesan hissed under his breath, his hand squeezing the base of his cock tighter than before, almost causing pain. his eyes shut, the other hand slipped up to his neck, wrapping his slender fingers around it. his hair messy, he is a total mess himself.

how pathetic of him to jerk off on a picture of you he took in class literally twenty minutes ago. but why'd you had to look this good? so beautiful. he couldn't hold back today, right after the classes ended he run into his apartment, ignored sungho's stupid question about dinner or whatever he was talking about and locked in his bedroom. he was so hard it hurts and the first thing he did when he was on his bed is started fucking jerking off like some virgin ass loser. just because he saw you in that fucking miniskirt.

“agh.. shit!” taesan groaned as quietly as he possibly could, so sungho, his roommate, won't hear anything. his grip on his neck hardened, he wished it was you the one chocking him. fuck he wanted that so bad. he wanted you to call him pathetic, needy or whatever you want. he does not care right now, the only thing on his mind was the previous view of you, slightly bending over the desk right before him so he could see the outline of your cute panties. god damn he was sure you did it on purpose, you wanted him to look. you always did.

he saw those panties before, they seem to be your favorite because you always wore them at home and he saw them on you when you were changing after gym once. he even took a video.

oh fuck he was so close. so so close, his eyes watering, one hand that was on his neck slipped off to grab the sheets underneath him, squeezing it. he moved his hand faster up and down his hard member, rubbing the tip with his thumb every now and then. he didn't even need to spit on his hand to make it easier to stroke himself, because he was already so wet, tip leaking with precum as he pulled his jeans down.

“I.. wish I could talk to you.. ah!” taesan quite literally cried out, first tear dropped from his eye and rolled down his cheek. his cock twitching as he looked at the photo he took of you. someone probably saw him taking that one, he was literally pointing with his phone to your exposed ass, what an idiot. but the pic ended up great, definitely one of his favorite now… along with the one where you’re taking off your shirt in your room. you shoul've closed your curtains that day for sure.

“are you alright in there?” taesan heard sungho's worried voice behind the closed door and a quiet knock right after. can't he just leave him alone for once? annoying.

“y-yeah.. Im fine, just leave me alone!” taesan shouted, his head threw back as he opened his eyes to look up. dick pulsing in his hand, cum leaking down his lenght on the sheets. he had to clean all that up later. but it doesn't matter now. he came so hard, so much.. but he didn't stop the movements of his hand on his cock, not for a second. he was basically whining from overstimulation, wet sounds of him jerking his dick and moaning filled the room. and the last thing he could worry about right now is if sungho could hear him or not.

you'd never knew a guy could be so loud, especially when he's usually quiet in public. you heard taesan's whimpers from his room that was at the other side of sungho's dorm. your eyes widened slightly as you came in to hear those nasty and… to be honest, pretty sounds taesan was making.

“sorry about that, taesan's not feeling well..” sungho rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, clearly embarrassed by that situation and the fact that you may not feel comfortable being at his dorm right now at this point.

“I think he is feeling very well right now,” you couldn't hold back a chuckle as you came inside. originally, you came here to work on your project together with sungho.

“anyway! where should we start..?” sungho let you inside his dorm and quickly tried to change the topic to the project you two had. you two weren't even same major, but since he took a sociology course which you were majoring in, you decided to take a music course just to spend more time with your friend. oh and that's how you knew taesan. well, not exactly “knew”, because you barely spoke with each other, but that's not the point. the point is: taesan was jerking off and you heard it very well, well enough to hear that he was crying while doing it. cute.

again. you did that again. when you came up to taesan asking if sungho was coming to class today, you patted his shoulder. damn, his whole body shook. what an idiot. couldn't act natural around you, his eyes went so wide when he saw you this close, with your chest on a full display for his view in that low-cut top…

“n-no, haven't heard anything from him since yesterday..” taesan answered simply after he finally cleared his throat. he tried not to stare at your tits. he truly did, but he couldn't help it. they were so close, right in front of his face. his dick was getting hard, shit. “I think he left early today tho.” he managed to spoke again.

“oh, okay! I'll just text him then..” you was just about to walk away, but as soon as you turned around, sungho appeared in the classroom.

“why am I so dumb..” taesan wished sungho wouldn't be there, so you'll probably sit with him because you don't know anyone else in this class. he wished he could smell your perfume again as you sit close enough to him… his hand slipped down to his pants to adjust it. fuck, he just wanted to touch his already hard cock, who was he trying to fool?

obviously not you. because as soon as you sat down, you glanced at taesan just to notice the way he was touching the bulge in his pants. how cute, what a show he put on for you. he got hard just because you talked you him? because you pushed your chest forward just enough for him to start staring? huh.

taesan would've never guessed you watched him. not just right now tho, you did it for a several times actually. when you first saw him, it wasn't in that stupid music class, it was when you came to visit sungho at his dorm as he just moved in… like six months ago. two months before you took that class.

you were looking for a bathroom door down the hallway where taesan's room was and oh! he was changing clothes, his door slightly opened. you couldn't have just passed by, right? especially when he looked so hot. you'd never guess a guy this hot would be such a pathetic needy loser, getting hard just by looking at your boobs. but that was adorable anyway.

author note: well that is my first ever smut suggestive or whatever work with a man so idk how it turned out please tell me if it’s weird or i wrote something that makes zero sense lol. i jst thought it will be a fun idea for a fic to write abt and i did it but i still have no motivation to write anything from my wips im so sorry yall 💔 been busy w work lately too.

[icallhimjoey]

okay so what if for once joe was the drama queen cos he’s Big Mad over some stuff…how would that play out

this guy's a whole idiot, im not sure i like him all that much... Wordcount: 2.3K

---

I Prefer The Moon Anyway

“I’m sorry...”

If someone asked you without Joe in the room, you’d tell them Joe was being an unreasonable little bitch boy.

“I said I’m sorry.”

But Joe is right there, ignoring you, and you’re apologising just to apologise. You know he wants to hear it, so you’re giving him the words, even if they’re empty.

“I heard you.” Joe’s remark is cold. He can tell you don’t mean it. That you are just avoiding a fight. He doesn’t blame you, he wants a fight even less than you, but you’re annoying him in a way he doesn’t have the words for.

If someone was to ask him without you in the room, he’d tell them this is the exact point of a relationship at which he’d usually turn into stone. This is where he grows numb. Cares less. Starts to protect himself in silence and prepares for the inevitable break up that’s coming.

The beginning of the end.

“But what do you want me to do?” you ask, sounding a little more desperate and helpless than you want, but you can’t help it. Joe’s asking something ridiculously unreasonable. Something you can’t give him. Don’t want to give him. It doesn’t help that you think he’s actually being a dramatic baby who feels like he’s not gotten enough attention. A coddled man who wants the whole world to bend to his needs.

Joe just shrugs. Knows exactly what he wants you to do.

And to be fair, the world has bent to his needs for ages, so who is to blame him for expecting you to do the same?

Joe’s pouting.

He looks like a child who’s overdoing a sad face to get a little empathy from his classmates. Like the kids all across the playground need to see that he’s hurt. Like he needs to guilt-trip them into giving him the toy that he allegedly saw first so he stops crying and they can all be friends again.

You fucking hate it.

“Can you hear yourself, though?” you try for some logic. For some critical thinking skills. Does he see, in the grand scheme of things, how utterly ridiculous he’s being?

Joe shrugs again, but this time it’s conspicuously uninvolved. Like he doesn’t give a single shit about how unreasonable he’s being. He’s gone from acting like you’re burning down the whole world to suddenly acting like he’d rather live on the moon anyway. Burn it, bitch. Whatever. He couldn’t care less.  

He won’t reach out to touch you tonight. He’s going to break your one rule if you keep this up. All because of schedules that never seem to coordinate – something that’s neither his fault or yours.

“I sure can. Can you?” Joe bites back, wants to hear a sincere apology from you. He wants to hear in your voice that he’s right and that he’s not selfish for wanting what he wants. For feeling the way he feels. Not his fault he loves you.

That’s what he’ll bring it back to – always.

He just loves you a lot.

How can you hate him for that, Big Wet Brown Sad Eyes™? Hmm?

Which... it’s so unfair.

And selfish.

He wants you to drop everything at a moment’s notice because he needs you right now. Doesn’t give a shit about what you need.

It’s fucking selfish, is what it is.

And the problem is that Joe’s selfishness is exactly what’s put you where you are now, in his living room, in a weird fight that you would both rather not be a part of.

“Please repeat what you’re asking of me.” You narrow your eyes at him as you look over your shoulder, convinced that he knows he’s wrong and that he should be the one apologising to you.

“Is it too much to ask of my girlfriend to spend time with me?” 

You sigh. You’re so frustrated. That’s not what he’s asking of you - that’s what he’s dressing it up as, which is unfair. What Joe’s asking is for you to drop your work at a moment’s notice because he’s suddenly found an evening off in his schedule and he decided he wants to spend it with you. But he hasn’t actually checked to see if you have the time. Just assumed that you did.

A risky assumption to make.

Because you don’t.

“You know I barely get any time to myself, I don’t know when I’ll have a night off next... could be weeks.” Joe places both hands on your shoulders to give you a little squeeze there. Massages the muscles in places he knows are tight just from the look of you. Gets his mouth close to your ear and lowly says, “Come on, baby. It’s just one night.”

You need to finish work.

There’s a deadline tomorrow you need to make, no questions asked.

Your evening plans surround you and your laptop and a wifi connection, and you were hoping you’d maybe get to sit in the same room as Joe as he would do some work of his own. Some prep for next day’s scenes. Some reading, some rehearsing.

Not this.

Not Joe trying to coax you into a bad performance review just because he felt bored that one night he suddenly found himself with a hole in his agenda.

“I’m here,” you say dryly, but you know that’s not what he means. “You can spend time with me whilst I finish all of this up.”

Joe communicates it with a look. A drop of his face and shoulders, letting you go and stepping away. Eyes rolling because, that’s not fair. He wants to take you out. Go some place nice. Talk and laugh and spend some actual time with you. See if some of his other current colleagues want to join, so he can introduce you. 

And it’s awful because that’s what you want too. But you feel like you’ve wanted that a million times, and every time you’ve tried to plan something, Joe’s been busy. Always so busy. Table reads, night shoots, long hours, long commutes, a party here, an event there. And it’s always, “Babe, it’s for work, I can’t just cancel.” 

Yet, that’s exactly what he’s asking of you now. 

“I don’t know why you assume that your time is more valuable than mine.” 

“I don’t think that at all! When have I ever said that?”

It’s how he’s acting. It says enough.

“Listen to what you’re saying; you’ve got a bit of free time. You do. You. Not me though. Not tonight. Does that sound familiar? At all?”

The tables have turned, just this once. He can just fucking deal with it like you have all those times before.

“Don’t. You know that’s not–”

“So your job is more important than mine?”

It pays more, Joe thinks immediately, but refrains from speaking the words into the room. Knows that won’t help, but it’s definitely telling how quick the comeback came to him.

“Hmm? Your time more important than mine?” You push.

Joe needs to realise that, if that’s actually how he feels, how outrageous the thought is. Just by your face, he needs to feel how those thoughts need reevaluating.

“You’re putting words in my mouth.”

You’re not. You’re just reading his body-language.

“Your priority is you. You have a free minute and so I’m supposed to just work my way around your schedule and– mind you, you didn’t even know about this until this afternoon! This deadline at work has been there for months!”

You should’ve stayed at the office.

Finished up there.

Joe is pacing now. Walking around his own living room with flared nostrils, taking in your words until you leave enough room for him to say anything.

Which, when he finally gets a chance, he drops an insane bombshell.

“Well, if you hadn’t procrastinated everything until the night before, maybe we wouldn’t be where we are right now.”

Oh, what the fuck? 

Did it take too long for you to set the world alight? Did Joe think it necessary to douse it in petrol and hold a lit match between two fingers a little too loosely? One small move from you could be used as an excuse to drop it, and full blame could be placed with you.

Clever.

But so are you.

You don’t make a move.

Not a single fucking muscle.

You just stare at him over your laptop screen.

Frozen in place.

And Joe stares right back.

It’s like a fucking duel.

You remember a time where you were in Joe’s shoes. The ones he’s wearing right now. The difference being that, back then, there were actual plans made that you’d been looking forward to, and then two days before, Joe complained about having to cancel on seeing family. He added that it’d be the third time he had to dip out on something, and how that made him feel like an awful person, but his job was just too demanding right now. People wanted him everywhere, all of the time, and whilst he typed away at his phone to apologise to his mum, he didn’t see how your face fell too, because you knew if he was telling family members he couldn’t make it to something, he was also going to have to cancel on you.

Again.

You’d cried, then. Only silently. Wiped a tear away quickly and masked a sniff as a deep breath, because you didn’t want him to feel worse.

Trust Joe to feel guilty for having to cancel on family for the third time and forget about the person in the room with him.

You then wondered if he ever kept count with you.

“You okay?” he had asked when you’d fallen silent, and you’d smiled and nodded. “Yea, just tired.” which wasn’t a lie, but it also wasn’t the full truth that Joe accepted it as.

Idiot.

It was fine. It wasn’t his fault.

You’d taken your frustration out on him later that night, when he left your toothpaste uncapped on the side, and you’d grumbled until the lights in the bedroom got turned off, and Joe reached out to you under the covers.

The one rule.

Even if you were upset, or angry, or wanted to fully murder each other, you had to at least still touch each other in bed. To let the other know that, yea I’d rather fucking shout at you until I go hoarse right now, but I still love you.

It could be a big toe touching a shin, or an elbow digging into a bicep – a touch was a touch. An I love you hidden in the dark.

And you had accepted it easily then.

Yea, it was annoying that Joe’s work dictated so much of what your relationship could even be, but it wasn’t his fault, so there was no use blaming him for it.

That was then.

You don’t know when you’d grown past the point of simply accepting all the bullshit. When you decided to maybe not brush things off and be the cool girlfriend who was there for her boyfriend wherever and whenever, especially in all the moments he wouldn’t have been there for you had the tables been reversed.

Like right fucking now.

You are still staring at Joe across the room when you see how suddenly, he starts to blink his eyes rapidly. See how suddenly, his jaw starts working. You know he’s biting back tears and, no – you won’t fucking have that. This motherfucker can cry on command and you don’t doubt for a single second he’d use that to get his own way.

“Don’t fucking guilt-trip me into losing my job.”

Joe’s immediately offended.

He drops the match.

“Well, I’m sorry for being disappointed.”

World on fire.

“Do you want me to leave?” you spit out, louder than you initially thought you’d make your voice go.

“No, no,” Joe immediately says, but it sounds patronising, even though he’s on the verge of tears. Like he actually means yes, please leave, because what good are you going to be to him having to sit at his kitchen table and do work all night.

“Stay. Make your deadline.”

You ignore the sarcastic bite and take a second to sit back in your chair and assess what needs doing. How long it’ll take you all. What time you’ll likely be finished. You conclude that, if Joe’s gonna be moping around, giving big sighs from across the room, that it will likely take twice as long.

You should leave.

“No, I should go. Get this done and then see you after.”

It’s the last thing Joe expected. For you to go on your own merit. Because of your work that needs doing, and not because you’ve gotten into a huge fight. You’re not storming off and screaming how you never want to see him again. You have work to do and want to see him after you’ve finished it.

It’s stupid how fast everything inside of him flips.

He doesn’t actually want you to leave.

He wants you to shut your laptop and sigh lovingly and mutter, “How could I ever resist you?” through a smile before you kiss him silly and follow him out into the night.

But instead you shut your laptop and bend to pick up your bag from the floor to stick it into and, no, that’s not what he wants.

“No, wait... wait. I’m sorry.” he says he before he even realises what he’s doing. Unsure if he really means it. He just doesn’t want you to get up and leave. If anything, he’d like to talk more and get you to eventually prioritise him over everything else. “Stay. We can... you can finish work and then we could do something after.”

You drop your head all the way back and take a moment to let your eyes dart to all corners of his ceiling.

What if you don’t finish this until after 11? After midnight? Is he just going to watch you work from the sofa and ask you how much longer every three minutes because he thinks you’re taking too long?

You should leave.

“I should go. I’m probably better off at the office, actually. It’s where I’ll get it done faster, I think.” You say all of it kindly. Stick your laptop into your bag calmly, no jerky annoyance in your limbs. But you don’t make eye-contact so he can’t use the Big Browns on you, and instead of trying to stomp on the flames to make the fire go out, he wafts a fresh gust of wind right over them, making them climb much higher.

“All right, fuck off then. See if I give a shit.”

If someone asked you without Joe in the room, you’d tell them Joe needed a moment to calm down and you’d talk to him in the morning after you’d made this deadline.

You didn’t start the fire.

Joe did.

And he’d figure that out eventually.

If someone was to ask Joe without you in the room, he’d tell them fuck her, apparently she doesn’t give a shit about him, and actually, that’s totally not a problem at all, because he prefers the moon anyway.

---

The Taglisted

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add yourself

[l0vem41l]

mean when i'm nervous.

「 tws + notes: no tws, unedited as BAWLS, dc writer newbie but im very enthusiastic abt the comics and shows and movies, dog metaphor but insane and unsubtle, explicitly vigilante!reader in dick grayson’s part, dramatic asf but not really angst 」

「 gn!reader, can be platonic or romantic <3 」

↳ ft. bruce wayne, clark kent, richard "dick" grayson, and john constantine

author's note: so. we all know what my favourite thing right now is (⌒_⌒;) i still adore everything i used to write for,,, but i’ve been on my comic motives recently (*ﾟｰﾟ*) ! reading dc mostly but spider-noir and deadpool have been picked up along the way!!! um. anyways. if i get comfy enough, i might do more dc stuff but i get that this isn't my exact audience on this blog— sorry my loves (´＿｀。) </3 might write a part two cuz i love jason. and booster gold. and like every single one of them (´▽`ʃ♡ƪ) halfway through writing this i realized everything feels very literal, so i feel the need to mention that this is not dog hybrid reader stuff but if u fw that u can imagine it that way

perhaps the habit of burning bridges you’re actively crossing isn’t a good idea. and you’re not an idiot, not in the slightest— but even if you were, everyone knows that needless self destruction when developing relationships is counterproductive.

you strike the match anyways, like it’s just a force of habit. another instinct.

if you spent life knowing that the hand only beats. why would you expect it to do anything else when it’s lowered towards you?

you learn to keep your hopes down, ears alert, and teeth sharp. you learn to get used to the taste of blood. to make things messy and complicated, and to end things when they need to be ended, because god knows it’s only self preservation when you do it.

you learn that the only way to survive is to bite— to hurt before something hurts you.

and one day, an unfamiliar hand that extends towards you decides to feed instead.

why do you still bare your teeth?

▸ BRUCE is unsure why he sticks around. he’s understanding, but also reasonably frustrated with your antics. it doesn’t evade him that they stem from something deeply rooted in your past— but he doesn’t know what to do about it. if there is anything to do.

at his core, he's a detective. he's got an eye for digging into strange pasts and a knack for knowing things he isn't supposed to. but in spite of his paranoia and hunger to know, bruce doesn't pry too much. he can do research on his own, without you ever having to realize.

you’re self-sufficient, he’ll give you that. you’re unsure sometimes of whether he’s proud that you can take care of yourself or irritated that you consistently insist on doing so. he’s unsure too. not like he lets you know.

it’s a mutual understanding the two of you share— he stays, you bite. yet bruce, unsurprisingly, doesn’t mind being bitten. he’d hope that the reason he’s sticking around is for the selfless reason of making sure you’re alright. though, the reality is, you’ve grown on him, whether you realize or not.

bruce has always been fond of strays.

▸ CLARK is nothing but patient. and that scares you beyond reason.

he sees the way you bare your teeth whenever someone gets too close for comfort to you. he knows when to back away, when to speak, when not to— he’s always attempting to never make you feel backed into a corner.

somehow, it makes you more anxious seeing just how much he understands about you. he knows just how to coax you out of the corner of your cage, how to bring you in closer, and it almost, almost convinces you to let your guard down.

the thought of that is terrifying.

you try barking, you try biting— and none of it works. clark doesn’t coddle you when you’re wrong— but he’s absolutely nothing but gentle. patient and understanding, sometimes you wonder how a man of steel can be so soft for someone like you.

▸ DICK isn’t dumb. it’s fairly easy for him to put two and two together. quickly, he figures out what he’s dealing with when he encounters you.

his conversations with you are never without a note of levity— a deliberate action on his end, you’re certain. he knows, you know, and because of it, everything feels oddly tense around him, even with the attempts to banter.

it’s too late to run. his observant gaze has caught a glimpse of you through your one way glass, and he’s chosen to meet your eyes with a smile. there's a sense of foreboding that gnaws at your gut, anxiously anticipating what might be lurking under that grin of his.

on his end, there are no malicious intentions. he doesn’t really have ulterior motives when it comes to you.

most times, he chooses to defend you and be the one standing at your side when no one else does. you don't understand why he insists on offering you friendship when all you do is pull away.

after a long night of patrolling the streets of gotham, you find the two of you leaning on the railing of a rooftop side by side. your eyes are on this cityscape of gotham. his are on you.

“you keep on insisting i’m not as bad as i seem,” you mutter under your breath.

late nights make for loose lips. he’s pleasantly surprised to hear you continue the thought instead of attempting to take it back.

“do you just hate being right?” you snort, allowing your gaze to flit over to him just for a second.

"no." dick smiles, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly. “i think you just hate the fact that i could be.”

▸ you tried not to bother with CONSTANTINE. the day the two of you met, you didn’t even introduce yourself.

john constantine’s presence alone reeks of trouble, as acrid and suffocating as the cigarette smoke that clings to his tan trenchcoat. you are attuned to things like that. he notices.

one thing you actually enjoy about him? he doesn’t chase. he’s a nosy one, for certain, sticking his nose into places no one in their right mind would— but for the most part, he steers clear of yours. initially, you think it’s because your urge to be left alone by him is so prevalent that he’s just chosen to heed the warning and not approach when unwanted.

but he’s not a man known for abiding by rules. he’s much more curious with you than you notice or prefer. in a way, your distance has made you more myth than man, more tale than tangible— you are a rumor passed through whispers between lips, a silent shadow lurking in the corner of the room… and he loves a good mystery.

“c’mon. you're actin’ like ‘m gonna bite your head off, luv,” he chuckles, lighting up the cigarette between his fingers.

i'd probably be the one doing that if i got any closer. you keep that thought in your head, standing with a gap between the two of you as always.

he doesn't miss how you avoid looking into his eyes like his gaze could murder, instead, focusing your gaze on the cherry of the cig, burning bright red.

“not much for a wee natter, hm?”

the quick shake of your head only makes his smirk grow. you could just walk away… so why exactly were you sticking around?

“fine by me. quiet company’s welcome.” that’s a sentence he’d probably never say to anyone else. in a strange way, he feels like he knows you well enough to be comfortable with the words that hang in the air.

it’s weird. you’re completely unknown, and yet, an irrational part of his mind keeps nagging at him to look just a little closer at you. sometimes, when he listens to it, he catches a glimpse of something silent in your eyes— an all too familiar pain of a person who can’t help but hurt the things that they cling onto.

so that’s why you’re keen on keeping everyone at arms length. it almost makes him laugh to think how similar the two of you are, plain as day, and yet unnoticed by you— a person who won’t even meet his eyes.

— reblogs always appreciated!

[akirathedramaqueen]

There's one piece of concept art that made me see the entire Apology Tour disaster in a different light.

So, we've been talking with @warblogs17282 about Stolitz and how their break-up ended up playing out in the 'Apology Tour' episode.

Why ended up? Well, there's a collection of concept art which, to my limited understanding of this craft, is one of the first steps in the production process of animation. This post by @birdy-babe includes a great chunk of it, shared by artists after the episodes aired (like storyboards, but much more stylised, showing how different some original ideas were). Long story short, one of the concept arts from the 'Apology Tour' episode suggests their quarrel was originally meant to be much harsher.

A short summary of the concept art to see what we are dealing with

In the background, you see a lot of apology postcards and silly cutesy stationery, suggesting Blitzø is in the middle of his Apology Tour.

The contact name isn't 'Stols' but 'Bird Dick,' implying their relationship is at an earlier stage, with less respect—at least on Blitzø's part.

There's a photo partially cut by the edge of the messages screen. From the signature gloves and boots, cowboy hat covering Blitzø's private parts, and visible nipples, it appears to be a nude image—replaced in later stages of development with stupid gay affirmation memes (as hard as it is to believe, I couldn't imagine there could be anything worse than the Striker horse gay jokes... well, it could, my dudes, it fucking COULD).

There are three messages, one of which is unsent:

"Stolas, cum awwwwwwn, u no u want it :)"—likely attached to the nude;

"Dude just talk to me"—desperation crawls in; he finally realises the shit has hit the fan;

"Im sowwy :("—an apology, but the text remains unsent, perhaps because it seems pointless, given that the 'Not Delivered' notifications and warning signs indicate Stolas has blocked his number.

Why do I find this fascinating, and why does it fill me with immense hope?

Because they still fucking care so much, and neither has completely closed the door on the other. By comparing the concept art to the final product, you can see how many intentional choices were made in dialogue, visuals, and behaviour to make it clear that these two idiots still want things to continue. Stolitz is meant to fucking live.

Now, if you want to see some comparisons—evidence, really—let's dive into each other's changes, focusing on what we can gather from the concept art.

Blitzø's side

Change 1—thank gods, no nudes. The gay memes are sillier and a bit lighter. Of course, they still showcase utter disrespect, a horrible prejudice against sexuality, and a poor understanding of how deeply Stolas was hurt, but I find them... less bad.

Change 2—no more 'Bird Dick.' Blitzø has actually come up with a real nickname for Stolas! Feelings are boring for you, huh, Blitzø? I can almost hear the song’s lines: "O-oh, hooked, addicted you might say, conflicted in a way…"

Change 3—Blitzø's attempts to apologize now show much more contemplation. Since Stolas hasn’t blocked him, Blitzø knows his words aren’t just being thrown into the void. Although the 'unsent' detail remains, it now carries real weight and impact.

All three changes are seen in these two GIFs.

He knows he did wrong. He knows he wants to salvage it. He might not yet know how to do it healthily, but he tries—he tries so fucking hard!

Look at the range of raw, cutting emotions as he speaks to Stolas and finally delivers his apology—probably the only one he genuinely meant. Well, maybe except for Verosika, a bit later.

It's not that it's hard for Blitzø to say 'sorry'—we've seen him do it a lot lately. He's actually quick to apologise and take responsibility, so Stolas's remark about him not feeling any remorse couldn’t be further from the truth. But the fact that he isn't running away this time—chasing after Stolas and trying his best to mend things—is drastically different from how he treated Verosika back then.

Stolas's side

Here’s the moment that struck me deep. It’s the only change, since the concept art shows Blitzø’s POV, but it’s such a significant one.

Do you think Stolas has moved on? Do you think he’s done with Blitzø? Not convinced, even when he’s literally singing about still wanting Blitzø?

Well, here’s your proof—he didn’t block Blitzø. They scrapped that.

More than that, the entire interaction emphasizes that Stolas isn’t pushing Blitzø away for good.

How do I know this? Stolas is very insistent on using phrases like 'for now,' 'right now,' and 'now' throughout his attempts to tell Blitzø off.

Here are some citations:

"I was hoping my lack of 'ha-ha's' in response to the photos you sent me would be an indicator I didn't want to talk right now."

"Seeing you right now is hard!"

"I'm tired of this! I'm uncomfortable with how you're speaking to me now!"

Why is this so important? Because he isn’t asking Blitzø to leave him forever. All he’s asking for is time.

Even while hurt, Stolas gives Blitzø plenty of chances to explain himself civilly. Look at the hopeful glances each time Blitzø shows any glimpse of genuineness.

Stolas fucking hopes Blitzø will take back all the cruel things said and brash actions done.

You know, Stolas... I've spent the entirety of this morning listening to love ballads, and that was...

For what?! You want me to be like, "Oh sorry, this entire time I assumed the worst because I was convinced a prince could never love someone like me and I've let my self-hatred stop me from apologising to anyone I could ever care about!"

You see the furrowed brows and the sad look? Stolas hopes for the best... but gets the worst because Blitzø isn’t there yet.

I’d even go so far as to say Stolas is acutely aware that Blitzø uses his brashness as a shield to protect himself. He literally sang about it in 'Just Look My Way.'

Unless it's me? And no matter what in this world I could give, it's not enough to get through these walls you've conjured up to live.

So, what gives?

Is this the behaviour of people who want to give up on a relationship they still clearly hold dear?

No. Even when they’re angry, aggressive, hurt, or drunk, they still seek understanding and forgiveness. They continue to listen and try.

They might lack the skills and may choose the wrong time, place, or words to express what truly matters...

One person, scared of being rejected so much that he unconsciously conveys this message by saying, "You don’t have to stay here with me," and carrying it throughout the whole conversation...

The other, coming to terms with his feelings, admits them, and his fears, a bit too late—when his romantic interest is too drunk to comprehend anything…

And in both cases—self-loathing, self-hatred, doubts, scars, trauma… and a lack of hope.

But there is hope. No, this is reassurance, my folks.

You know when it's hardest to stay in a relationship? When it’s hardest to come and say, "I am sorry," when it’s hardest to still love the person?

When you’re hurt. When they’ve hurt you.

And, despite that, you still come to them and still want to talk to them.

If this isn’t ironclad evidence that this is more than just a fling or a couple of fun sex dates, I don’t know what is.

And the 'Apology Tour' fucking proves it, rather than ruins it. It only strengthens the point. It’s easy to live in happiness, but it’s so hard to go through it while you’re in pain. When you see them doing that, you realise it means everything to them.

Stolitz is to live.

[rainychaoloveshack]

Can you do Boom!Sonic x reader with an angsty scenario? Maybe Sonic says something about the reader and they take it the wrong way which leads to internal conflict? Canonically in the boom universe he tends to be rather cocky and says things that come out wrong. Thank you so much, please take care of yourself.

ﾟ ⋆ ﾟ ☂︎ ⋆ ﾟ 𝐀𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲? 𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐜 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐞𝐝𝐠𝐞𝐡𝐨𝐠.

sonic’s arrogant behavior is becoming too much to bear.

synopsis. boom!sonic x gn!reader, light angst, sonic thinks he's too cool for help... (he doesn't wanna admit he's worried for you)

☂︎ wc. 1k ☂︎ a/n. im so sorry this took so long anon!!! ;( i had to do some of my own research for his character. i went through a small writing stump while writing this one. if you'd like a rewrite, just let me know! might just end up doing one anyway...

likes, reblogs, and especially comments are extremely appreciated!!!

__________________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

┊ ⋆ ┊   .   ┊   ┊

┊    ┊⋆     ┊   .

┊    ┊       ⋆˚              

✧. ┊         

⋆｡˚ 🌨 ˚｡⋆｡🌩˚☽˚｡⋆ 

☂︎

“It’s just Egghead back up to his schemes again. His robots have been popping up around town more often.” Sonic stretched his arms up high, taking in the golden-hour sunshine cast on the two of you. “It’ll be way too easy to just knock him down a peg!”

You copy his movement, grinning at the thought of going on another adventure with Sonic, despite going on one with him yesterday and having to get patched up a bit because of it by Amy. It happens so often, but you really can’t seem to get enough of it, letting the sunshine almost blind you as you turn your head to Sonic, feeling the warmth cast on every part of your body.

Shame that Eggman’s up to his dumb plans. If he wasn’t, maybe you and Sonic could’ve relaxed at the beach together, cuddled up on a beach towel while you two sipped on some coconut milk. Pity.

Sonic notices you mimicking him, and a grin spreads wide onto his face. “Oh look, I’ve got myself my very own mini-me, huh?” 

If you could hush him up right now, you would. But you shake your head and stick your tongue out teasingly, rolling your eyes over at him. No wonder Eggman’s always out to get him, this annoying little idiot. But it’d be best if you both got a move on now before it gets too dark.

Sonic’s smile falters at you bringing up Eggman’s name, causing his body to tense up ever so slightly.

“... Yeah, come on.” Sonic beckons you over, but it’s not hard to notice the lack of energy in his voice, so suddenly at that. You open your mouth to ask about it, but shut it rather quickly. Would asking him that make him feel more uneasy? You’d rather not find out, so you walk towards him, and continue on. 

Sonic starts at a fast-paced jog, but slows down almost instantly, his ear twitching with uncertainty. You stop a bit away from him, noticing the sudden shift in demeanor.

“Hey, uh, [Name].” Sonic says softly, looking at you from over his shoulder. “How about I handle this one by myself, yeah?”

… What? You tilt your head at his proposition, clearly confused. Who else could he go with right now? Everyone else is busy, running errands in their daily lives, or fixing their own issues, and since it’s just you and Sonic here, why not? What gives?

“I don’t want you to-” Sonic scowls, shaking his head at his blabbering words, before backtracking. “I got it. I can handle this easy-peasy, so… You can just stay here, okay?”

What the hell is he talking about? Well, you understand it, at least the smallest bit. You’re hurt, but it's not as though you can’t fight. A gash in your arm will do you no harm in combat.

Sonic sees the dissatisfaction on your face, and shifts onto one leg, stretching it out before switching to the other one.

"You-" He starts, but changes his words rather quickly. “I don’t want you to slow me down.” He mutters, smoothing out his quills behind him as he taps the tip of his shoe onto the ground in a rhythm that drives you crazy. “‘Think I’ll do just fine on my own.”

What?

You scowl, crossing your arms and tilting your head at him. How much longer is he going to do this act of his? It’s all an act, you know it is.

“Act?” Sonic glares at you for a couple of beats, the silence ringing out between you two only disturbed by the swaying of palm trees, and the waves of water hitting the glittering shore in the sunset. He seemed offended at your accusation, tensing his muscles as his ear twitched downward, an irritated expression reflected on him. “What kind of act are you talking about? I can’t worry about my friend anymore, huh?”

What? Does he think you’re too weak? Pathetic? Does he think you need to be handheld every second of every hour? Coddled?

You grit your teeth, almost with enough strength to bite your tongue off if you really wanted to, brows furrowing as you glare at him. You’re so sick of his antics. Sick of that cocky attitude of his. It sucks, it sucks, it sucks.

Why can’t he drop his pride and that little ‘cool’ act of his for even a second? It’s so infuriating. It makes you sick.

His eyes meet yours, and you can almost see his demeanor falter for a moment right before his body tenses up, and his ears flick down, a growl growing upon his lips. “I mean it.” He snaps. “You’ll see just how fast I get it done without you lagging behind me the whole time. I don’t need you anyway…”

Is that so? You turn on your heel, rage fuelling every step you take on the hot sand as you try to get as far away from him as possible, the thought of even being around him making you nauseous within the moment.

“Huh?” Sonic says softly, clearly surprised as he tries to gather his thoughts quickly enough to form a sentence. “[Name].” Sonic says, remorse lacing his voice, but you don’t want to hear it. Not at all. 

He takes a few steps towards you, reaching out to your wrist as his fingers wrap around it. “[Name], c’mon, wa-”

With a fair bit of rough force, you tug your hand away from him, smacking his gloved hand away as you keep your stride going, refusing even to take a glimpse his way.

You leave Sonic standing there, left to fidget with the brown bandana set around his neck in impatience, tapping his foot repeatedly on the ground anxiously. Despite his irritation, he still has the words still bubbling inside his throat, threatening to come out.

“[Name],” Sonic says under his breath, even if he knows that you’re already far gone. Too far away to hear him.

“I’m sorry, [Name].”

[d1s1ntegrated]

shigaraki x reader oneshot

includes: angst, pent up feelings, tomura being emo af, reader being soft, pretty sfw just some kissin :3

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

tomura isn't good with his emotions.

he's clingy, angsty, childish. he wants to win everything and he ignores whatever makes him human.

so when he realizes that having you around makes him feel things, he feels sick. he wonders if he's cursed, he wonders if his past is finally coming to haunt him. they way you laugh at his jokes, the softness to your voice when you speak with him, the scent of your hair as you walk past him. he's so fucking angry with you, he's so confused and hurt and doesn't understand why.

he sits across the room from you and stares. he can't peel his eyes from you. he ignores you when you ask if he's feeling alright, he just gets up and storms off. when you knock on his door a few minutes later, he slowly cracks the door and rolls his eyes. it's the last thing he needs, to see you when all he wants to do is forget you exist.

"shiggy, are you okay? you've been staring off all night. did one of us do something?" you ask him in that same pleasantly soft voice, and it hurts his head.

"i'm fine." he avoids your eyes, but stares daggers into your socks. he picks at his nails from his sides and shrugs. you can hear everyone else from the other room, laughing and yelling at each other, and wonder if you should just go back out and give tomura his space.

"i can leave, if you want. you don't seem to want company. i didn't mean to bother." you propose, but he looks you dead in the eyes now, and in the smallest voice, replies,

"don't."

"okay." you nod and close the door behind you.

"do you want to talk about it?" you ask, and he shakes his head.

"just shut up and sit." he points to his messy bed, before shoving his piles of clothes off and fixing the duvet slightly. good enough.

"...okay." you comply, and sit. you go to speak but he cuts you off.

"y/n, do you think I'm sick?" he asks, and you look at him.

"what? that's the last thing i expected you to ask." you blink at him, confused.

"aren't you scared of me?" he asks another equally as odd question. you frown.

"if i was, do you think I'd be here?" he grits his teeth.

"yes, because you're reckless and impulsive and an idiot and i hate that." he starts, his tone annoyed.

"i mean you aren't wrong, but wh-" you try to reply, but he cuts you off.

"I'm not finished. don't cut me off." he snaps, but you nod and let him continue,

"i hate that you don't care. i hate that you laugh. i hate how you clean me up and you care for us and you're always here. every time i walk out the door i expect to come back and you're gone, but you're. always. here. you just don't leave! what is wrong with you, y/n, for you to be so stupid and naive, to care for people like us. like me. you're too soft. you're too...good. to be here." his voice cracks at the end, but his words are sharp as he speaks.

you stand and face him. his breathing is heavy, his hands shaking at his sides.

"im no better than you." your answer is simple, but it gets him to look you in the eye.

"why do you stay?" he is quieter now, like what he said before drained him.

you reach out and grab his gloved hand. he doesn't protest, but he winces. you squeeze his hand twice for reassurance, and you feel his hand untense slightly.

"because i want to." he looks to your hand touching his.

"why are you touching me?" he asks shakily.

"because i want to." you rub his hand with your thumb, feeling the roughness of his palm and the soft material of the glove.

"you aren't afraid?" he asks, his sanguine eyes blown wide from the contact. its not a new thing for you to touch him, but you don't do it often. usually only to path him up, or shove him playfully. never this...intimately.

you bring yourself closer to him and brush a strand of his soft hair out of his face. he shivers at the contact and clenches his jaw.

"are you?" you ask, and he scoffs.

"it feels like slow torture." he answers, and you're close enough to feel his breath on you.

"why's that?" you look up at him, your voice low, as if you're keeping a secret.

"because i know it's gonna end." he admits. your eyebrows raise, and you lock eyes.

"it doesn't have to, tomura." the sound of you saying his name makes him swallow hard.

"don't. don't say things like that, it pisses me off, i know it's a lie, i know you'll leave eventually and i don't want to deal with that." he pleads, his hand shaking in yours. you shake your head.

"i'm not leaving. i'm not afraid of you." you whisper now, but you release his hand and just hold your gaze on him.

"y/n. don't." he hushes, as if someone's watching. but the door is closed, everyone else is drinking and shouting still, too distracted with themselves to notice either of them are gone.

"i don't think you're a monster." you say, and it's enough for him to stop caring. his anger for you, his disdain for your stubbornness, his frustrations, all fizzle out into force, and he presses himself against you, his rough lips meet yours hastily, messily. he throws all of his preconceptions out the window as he grabs your face and kisses you. the tension that stood the few inches between you before, is swallowed up in the moment, and neither of you care. the air is heavy, your mind spinning. he tastes like sour apples and smoke, and suddenly it's all you can focus on. he smells subtly of the ocean, and you feel like you're drowning. you refuse to pull away, instead, you wrap your arms around the back of his neck and allow him to consume you. his kisses are hungry, desperate even, and uncoordinated. your teeth clash together and you laugh, but he still doesn't pull away. his hands move down to wrap around your waist, his fingers trailing down your sides and grabbing and tugging whatever he can.

finally, you both pull away for a breath, and you meet his eyes. they're wide, unsure. he opens his mouth to speak, but can't find the words, so you answer his unasked question before he finds the words.

"I'm not leaving still. if that wasn't confirmation enough, we can do that again, if you aren't sure" you smile as you say it, and he nods.

"i might need to double check" he smirks, and you allow him to pull you back in, smiling to yourself as his lips plant back onto yours.

if this is how it feels to be sick, tomura never wants to recover.

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

my first one-shot! be nice i lowkey suck at proof reading :3 but anyways ye enjoy some soft angsty tomu and reader, and lmk if yall want either MORE of this or others!

also im working on a full-blown fic!

i won't go into detail, but its online to irl, slow burn, kinda not enemies but two angry ppl to lovers, and its obv shiggy x reader. :) ill prob post at least snippets here, and prob on my ao3 once i have a few chapters ready to go. so stay tuned!!

thanks yall <3

[gatitties]

Hellooo! Im so happy you opened your request 😩Can i request something for platonic Yandere strawhats (zoro and luffy really) with a teen! Reader who acts snarky and bold but they’re scared of everything form a butterfly to a emperor of the sea so they refuse to join the crew? If possible could you include law as well. Tyy💕

─Yandere!Strawhats (Luffy & Zoro) & Law x teen!reader (Platonic)

─Summary: you are a stubborn teenager and you refuse to have extra 'protection', bad luck for you…

─Warnings: manipulation, death, mention of gutting someone, blood, unjustified obsession, toxic behaviors, yandere stuff...

─ Are you an idiot? Affectionate question that these two ask each other when they meet you.

─ You are brave and stubborn enough to get hurt during a fight but you run away if you see a butterfly because bugs are ugly and scary according to you.

─ And on top of that you deny his offer to be on his crew? Your pride is going to make these two men bald, they are doing all this for your good, you should be more aware of their actions.

─ Luffy is by your side day and night repeating over and over again that you are part of his crew, he will refuse to leave the island without you, you are too young, inexperienced and afraid to survive on your own even if you have family who can take care of you.

─ In fact, Zoro already took care of that, definitely if your family members didn't exceed his expectations, which to no one's surprise, they didn't, they wouldn't be able to protect you like he would.

─ It took them at least a week to persuade you enough with some manipulation, with the help of Robin, and even when you were half convinced to leave in search of not-so-desired adventures, they ended up kidnapping you because you were still stubborn.

─ So you found yourself glued to two idiots against your will, playing games with Luffy that even at your age wouldn't find fun, watching in silence as Zoro flexed his muscles while he trained.

─ And if you thought that someone from the crew was going to help you get out of that spiral of obsession you were very wrong, if they weren't threatened, they would also be somewhat obsessed with keeping you safe after spending some time by your side.

─ They will take advantage of how scared you are, literally anything would make you jump two meters off the ground, once you were scared of your own shadow, everyone will take advantage of it to scare you and make you hug them.

─ No matter how much you fight, Luffy needs at least one hug daily and will wrap his rubber arms around you completely suffocating you, Zoro is not that fussy, but he will use you as a stuffed animal to hug during his naps.

─ Don't even think about seeking comfort from anyone other than them or at least part of the crew when you're scared, they are the only ones who can help you, understand, the others only want to use you and won't take care of you as well as they do.

─ Many failed escape attempts, either because you have been caught or because you were just sailing through waters infected with sea monsters, you always end up locked up overnight as punishment.

─ If necessary, they will knock you out so that you do not put yourself in danger, your sarcasm and sometimes bad temper can put you in dangerous situations and they are not going to go through that, they would have to kill someone again.

─ He was just passing by, your island was in a small fever pandemic and Law was just helping the whole town a little, however you seemed so out of it when you were sick, so lost and hurt, you reminded him of his sister.

─ He simply took you away to, supposedly, cure you since he had better equipment on the submarine, you couldn't even fight against this because seriously, it seems like you have one foot in the grave when you're sick.

─ He got rid of all your discomforts, but he also discovered that you were a big mouth, but hey, no one likes to be kidnapped so he got a good dose of irritating adolescence.

─ It was difficult to make you see reason that you would be much better off with him and that your island was potentially dangerous, it's not like you came to reason but he forced you to listen to him and collaborate with some threats.

─ He was quite surprised when one night you asked him to sleep with him because you saw a spider prowling around your room, even though you were a very sarcastic and sassy person, you were very scared and he used that as an advantage.

─ Do you want to get out of the submarine? It's okay, just hold his hand and you can go anywhere, do you want to go outside alone? No way, do you know about the insects, contagious diseases and monsters that can wait for you out there? Of course not, you're just a teenager.

─ He always makes excuses that something that terrifies you is hanging around the islands where you stop.

─ Maybe if you get too annoying or whiny about not being able to go out on your own, he'll let you go on your own for a bit… although it only gives you a false feeling of freedom since you always have one of the crew members watching you closely.

─ No teenage romance, he is not going through that time, if necessary he will show you the person you like dissected to scare you enough to think twice about trying to escape.

─ Consider all escape attempts a failure because Law has everything really calculated and the crew is too afraid at this point, they were the ones who had to clean the mutilated corpses of the people who were on the blacklist.

─ Because Law wrote down each of the people who have done something to you that he considers bad or harmful to you.

─ He has already lost a sister, he's not going to lose another even if you are not related to him by blood.

[penkura]

Hi! I saw that your requests are open!

Would you be alright writing headcanons for a GN!Reader(Fem is fine too if it's a struggle) for Sanji and Zoro with an idiot reader? The type to throw themselves in danger, believe people at face value, able to succeed a mission by failing all the instructions ect.

Im a big fan of idiot readers because I am one myself, if you could add some cuddling in there too I would be so grateful

Take care!

Hi!! Gosh, this was fun to write lol. Sanji and Zoro are my boys, they would both def end up with idiot readers lol. I hope you like it! :)

Sanji

You, an idiot?

His precious, darling beloved?

Never, he’d fight anyone who said you were! He’d never call you that himse—

Oh there you go again, throwing yourself in front of Luffy. Haven’t you learned he’ll be fine?

You do it every time, and even after Sanji and the others tell you to stop being so self sacrificing, they get enough of that with Zoro

Its fine, its fine, Sanji knows you just want to protect your friends

Its even fine when you nearly fall for an obvious scam of some woman needing money to pay off debtors, and it just happened to be the same amount in your hand

Thank goodness he was nearby and able to grab your hand to get you away from that, telling you what was going on

You felt really stupid for that, but it was fine, no problems, Sanji kept you from losing your money, Nami would’ve killed you both if you had

Its not fine when you end up injured this time, jumping in front of him when an enemy throws a spear at him

It barely grazed you when you pushed Sanji out of the way, but he’s still horrified knowing it was because you were protecting him that it happened

No matter how many times Chopper tries to Sanji that you’ll be okay, it wasn’t as bad as it could have been, he’s still upset with himself for being distracted by another enemy

Sanji wants to distract himself but you won’t let him leave you alone, dragging him into the bed you’re staying in that night and demanding cuddles since you’re hurt (not that hurt but still)

He’s glad to obliged, holding you close and burying his face in your shoulder while you stroke his hair

“Sorry I worried you, Sanji.”

“You’ve got to stop throwing yourself in front of people…”

He just doesn’t want to lose you

Zoro

He’s the one that calls you an idiot the most

In a loving way the majority of the time, but other times he really does mean it

The day you almost got swept away to another crew because on of their members tried to sell you a sob story about needing medicine for a sick kid?

Yeah you were an idiot for that one

The time you run to protect Nami, shoving her out of the way and receiving a deep gash on your abdomen

Zoro knows you want to protect people, to protect your family

But you should let him handle things sometimes!

He was on his way to protect Nami himself, but of course, you being you, ended up jumping ahead and pushing her away from the Marine attacking her

After all the Marines are taken care of, Chopper has you in the infirmary on Sunny immediately to assess your wounds

You got the worst of it, good job!

Zoro hears you got the worst of it, say your prayers because he’s pissed

Not entirely at you, partially at the Marine that got you, but still at you too

“You’re lucky his weapon didn’t have poison on it or somethin’!”

“I don’t think the Marines use poison, Zoro.”

“That’s not the point!”

You let him go off, telling you everything that could’ve gone wrong

It’s rare for even you to see this side of him, but it’s nice to know he cares this much

Eventually Zoro calms down, taking a deep breath before he walks back over and drags you into a hug

“You’re such a damn idiot you know?”

You nod, but smile, “but I’m your idiot, right?”

He rolls his one good eye and nods himself

“Yeah, you’re my idiot.”

He wouldn’t change a thing if it meant you were his and he was yours

Though he would like you be a little more careful in the future

[atalana]

so i finally got the chance to read the book of bill! and man those journal 3 pages, i could write a million essays on those, but the principle one that i can't get out my head is the new insight on ford's whole fucked up paradigm of what love is

like, neither of the stan twins really know how to experience unconditional love, because they never really had it. their dad was constantly comparing the two of them and really just stamping down stanley's self worth at any given moment. and even for ford who was praised, he's not an idiot, he saw how stan got treated all the time, and their dad was very explicit as to why. ford's praise and attention hinged on him being the family genius who could make them all a lot of money, and he knew very well if he failed to live up to that, he would also lose his father's love

and you see this in stan in his desperate need for everyone to like him, but also how he doesn't really believe anyone ever truly could love him, so whenever he gets the chance with anyone he clings onto that relationship as tight as he can, terrified it's going to disappear at any second

ford, meanwhile. the more direct threat to him was the bullies and the people that made him feel lesser for being abnormal. and no kid likes feeling like that, we know it's a spike buried deep in his psyche, which gave him a reason for the dichotomy he ends up forming.

when he was a kid, people tended to fall into two categories - those who were really impressed with him and his potential, and those who saw him as a freak and wanted to drag him down for it. the love he got and the hate he got are directly related to both.

and as a result ford is constantly looking for people who will give him intellectual gratification (what he thinks love is), and he categorises everyone else as "unimportant obstacles in my way" (because that's how he thinks about those bullies, so their words won't hurt anymore)

stanley was the first category, until he sharply became the second

and splitting the world into those two categories makes him an absolutely horrible person! like, one hand yeah, you do have sympathy for ford bc that is straight up torture bill put him through and no one should have to experience it (and i do wanna make clear this is not a ford hate post, he does have good qualities im just interested in the bad rn)

on the other hand though, god, i'm always struck by just how hateful he is towards so many unimportant things (just one of many examples, christmas songs are fake and stupid bc rudolph didn't burn santa's workshop to the ground as revenge for ostracizing him like jesus christ dude)

or the bit where he sees one of stan's shitty product ads and considers calling him and pretending to be a cop just to scare him, because in ford's mind that's a punishment he deserves for daring to look so stupid while sharing ford's face

and it just drills in how much ford is not willing to see stan's side of this in any way, because what do you think would happen if you went through with that plan? don't you know stan's already scared enough? you saw him get kicked out, you saw the ultimatum that came with it, and hell thanks to the book of bill we know you were also scared to go home until you had something to show for it. he's trying his best, and you understood that once. but then stan throws your journal back in your face and you yell that you're giving him the chance to do the first worthwhile thing in his life.

everything he did to try and make something of himself, to try and prove himself worthy of literally any love at all, you didn't care about that. now he's in a position to help you, so of course he should just drop everything and obey your orders to the letter without question. that's the only way to redeem himself for getting in your way, why won't he take it?

by the time bill shows up ford felt fully justified in going "this isn't about me, and therefore it's stupid and unimportant and should be destroyed". and i know exactly why, it's because again you think intellectual gratification and love are the same thing and you're running low on both right now so you're trying to make up the difference by affirming how right you are in your goddamn diary, but right does not make you good or kind or wise

and that makes it kind of a self fulfilling prophecy, because loving you is hard, and the one person genuinely willing to do so unconditionally you're keeping at a very aggressive arms length. but you fall for bill so easily, because he understands how important you are, which must be love, and all of these other people worried about you just aren't smart enough to get it

and not even realising bill's lies could cure him of that one. hell, 30 years spent dimension hopping didn't cure it. when ford gets back he is still just as self righteous, and still willing to categorise dipper as "will give me intellectual gratification" and the rest of them as intrinsically less valuable

which is why dipper can't take the deal ford offered him. if he had, he would have turned out exactly like ford, stuck in his own echo chamber unable to tell the difference between love and praise

mabel says at one point in the comics that the reason the two grunkles are bad at looking after kids is because they still are kids, and that's a really accurate insight. that old wound cut so deep neither of them had the chance to actually move past their childhood, and discover what it was they were missing

stan never stopped wanting his brother back, but ford didn't realise that was what he needed too, until he saw mabel and dipper working as a team against bill. he's acknowledged his mistake in trusting bill before now, but "we used to be like that" is his first time acknowledging that his whole approach to people is wrong.

you've always had one source of unconditional love. you didn't need to be better than him to be worthy of it. and now you've got an entire new family, hopefully you'll realise that can come from multiple fronts

(and it's okay stan shall have his revenge for how you treated him by commiting just. so much tax fraud in your name)