#it's not even cold yet even though it is basically march and by all reason should be

[autogeneity]

kind of ridiculous that even after all this time the only thing really you can do for colds and flu is "suffer"

#m #whining #WHYYYYY do I get sick so easily #ALL THE TIME #it's not even cold yet even though it is basically march and by all reason should be #it was 34°C yesterday and I was out here freezing smh #'rest and drink lots of fluids' yeah so 'suffer' #I am experiencing a very unusual level of body pain this round #it is the most salient aspect #I am trying to remain within a reasonable amount of painkillers but it comes back every like 2 hours #she said to take once every 6 hours which uh no #tried taking zinc lozenges but I think it makes things worse? #coz it dries up my throat and then I start choking

[anthotneystark]

One taste of your life (And I own your soul)

So I heard it was @thefreakandthehair's birthday and then I finished writing this, so Lex this is basically just for you now!

The day starts like any other.

He wakes up screaming, shaking, a cold sweat trailing down his spine. He takes a few minutes to pull himself together, reminds himself it’s all over, ignores the feeling of heavy, dark air on his skin. He ignores the sound of screaming in his head, the tightness in his chest. Before he’s really ready, but after he should already have been moving, he pushes himself up and drags himself into his routine.

He showers, feels like he’s trying to scrub the fear and pain off of himself, and hopes that one day that will actually work. He catches himself looking around as he gets dressed, an uneasy feeling prickling at the back of his neck. It’s the feeling of being watched. But there’s no one in his room, so he shakes it off and moves on.

He has his morning phone call with Robin as they both make breakfast. His heart aches at the thought of her being so far away, just the same as he knows hers does, but he’d refused to let her put off school just because he wasn’t ready to leave yet. She comes back when she can, he’s made trips to visit her, but it’ll never feel right until they can live in the same place again. He won’t make her feel bad for getting out, not when he wanted her to, not when he’s so happy that she’s out there doing things she loves and having fun.

When it’s time, when he can leave too, they’ll get a place together and never have to be apart again.

For now though, instead of gossiping during a morning car ride, he tells her all the drama she’s missing out on and lies about how he’s definitely eating over the sink so his bagel crumbs are contained.

When she has to go, her classes beckoning, he lets her go and tells her he’ll update her with the next schedule his boss puts out. He’s on days right now, but he’s hoping he’ll be on nights soon.

With Robin gone, and Family Video destroyed back in March, he hasn’t bothered to go back into the rental business. He opted to follow a different career path, and with the amount of people who fled the town, the fire department had gladly taken him on. Turns out, for someone who likes to take care of people and is willing to take on tasks like herding a group of rambunctious pre-teens, being a paramedic has been the perfect fit.

He throws on his uniform, laces up his boots, and ignores that feeling pricking at the back of his neck as he walks to his car. He looks around, but it’s a calm day. There’s barely a breeze in the trees; the leaves are still, the world is quiet.

There’s no one there.

The drive is easy, navigating the new roads built from his house to the center of town. Once everything started being rebuilt, mostly by the people who were convinced it was worth it to stay, things settled down. With the cracks in the earth closed up, with homes rebuilt, it looked almost like nothing had happened.

He lost count of how many times he wished nothing had happened.

He let himself get lost in the boredom of no emergencies throughout the day, let himself be distracted by the adrenaline of people needing help. There’s a kitchen injury on Maple Street, a ladder incident on Avalon Court, even a legitimate kitten in a tree call just down from the high school. Being the youngest, and thus the one thrown into the grunt work more often than not, he’d been sent on up to get it. It wasn’t his first kitten rescue, not with more than a few displaced pets, but the kitten only scratched him a little as he pulled it into his arms.

Back on the ground, kitten back in the arms of its person, he’d made quick work of cleaning up the blood that welled up on his hand. His movements stilled as he went to bandage it, his eyes darting up, looking around but seeing no reason for the hair on the back of his neck to stand up. He brushed the feeling aside.

There was no reason to be on edge.

If anyone had asked him back in high school, he’d have said that 24 hours was a long time, plenty of time.

If anyone had asked him after he found out monsters were real, he’d have said 24 hours was an eternity when the chips were down.

If anyone had asked him today, he’d say 24 hours is a blink, a breath, it’s nothing, a blip of time that only carries meaning once it’s over, once you can feel the loss of it.

Loss or not, he’s more relieved when it’s over and he can go home again. The feeling has stuck with him, the hair on the back of his neck, the on edge, the vigilance. It happens, he’s aware, but he’s also aware that today he’s just being dramatic, just being paranoid. As he waits for his shift to end, his 24 hours nearly up, he watches the bats finish their hunt in the almost-dawn light. They’re a mix of swooping and flailing, graceful and clumsy, and not for the first time, he thinks of a boy who was the same.

He thinks of curly hair and a devilish smile, kind eyes and loud laughter. He thinks of rough hands and the gentle curl of smoke from his lips.

It’s not the first time he’s stolen his thoughts and made his heart ache, and it won’t be the last.

The sting lessens the fear that’s shadowed him all day, and he looks up at the approaching dawn with the phantom hand on his shoulder.

The alarm doesn’t ring in the time he’s got left. He shares the easy camaraderie he has with his team, familiar but not family, because even if he doesn’t love them like his kids, he has to love them enough to have his back when they’re out on the truck. Trusting them enough is easy, he’s used to relying on partnerships and love has always come too easily to him.

But that love isn’t the same as what he’s built through much more real dangers. They know him, but they don’t know him enough to see the struggle of pulling on a smile. They know how to read him in the smoke but they don’t know how to read the emotions he shoves down under bravado and jokes.

It’s fine, they don’t need to. But knowing they can’t does nothing to ease the ache and alarm under his skin.

His whole drive home, he sees shadows out of the corner of his eye. A fleeting movement there. A noise here. He doesn’t run from his car into the safety of his home, he knows better. He knows what lurks in the shadows.

As he steps through the door, the feeling fades, vanquished by the safety of a space that’s his. He slips out of his uniform, puts off doing laundry for later, and drops into the couch in nothing but his undershirt and boxers. He closes his eyes and flicks on the TV, the sound just loud enough to drown out the noise of a creature approaching.

Without warning, with only the briefest sense of alarm flaring up, a small weight comes out of nowhere and lands squarely on his chest.

He doesn’t flinch.

Instead, he lifts his head, lifts an eyebrow, and pulls on his most unimpressed look.

“If I was standing, I’d be doing the Mom Pose.”

The bat, fluffy and almost too dark, just chirps happily at him before crawling up to hide in the crook of his neck.

He doesn’t try to move it.

It doesn’t take much longer for that telltale poof-flash-pop of time and space and whatever else is involved in the transformation, and then he’s left not with a clingy flying rodent, but a clingy metalhead with too-sharp teeth and an unusual diet.

Eddie yawns and settles into his side, nosing at his neck until Steve sighs and tilts his head away.

“You didn’t get enough mosquitos this morning? Or throughout the day when you were following me around?”

“How did you know I was following you around?”

“Survival instinct, I felt you,” Steve retorts. He feels Eddie’s grin against his neck before the sharp sting of his fangs, the sticky-warm feeling of pleasure kicking in moments later. A moan escapes him, but he’s long since given up on being ashamed of enjoying this moment too. Eddie doesn’t take much before his tongue is sealing up the wounds, pulling off of him with a wet pop.

“I’ll have to work on being sneakier then,” Eddie says, using Steve’s blissful relaxation to turn his head toward him, stealing a kiss much the same as he’d stolen lunch; with zero complaints and Steve wholeheartedly on board.

“You do that,” Steve laughs, the words muffled against Eddie’s lips. His own yawn interrupts the next kiss, but he doesn’t need to worry about being too tired. It’s a perfect excuse for Eddie to scoop him up and carry him to bed. The curtains are pulled closed, the covers pulled back, and there, in a bed that felt hostile just 24 hours earlier, Steve sinks into the safety of a man who any sane person would be terrified of just by reputation alone.

There, in arms that are stronger than any human, looking up into eyes that are red when the light hits them just right, Steve lets himself surrender into the sleep that calls his name. There are no screams in his head now, just whispered words about hobbits and dwarves and an adventure that Steve never manages to stay awake to hear in full. That’s okay though, Eddie will read those words to him as many times as needed, with a devilish smile and the occasional curl of smoke from his lips, with rough hands so gently brushing through locks of chestnut hair.

All is right with his world, the weight in his heart has lightened, and there’s no need to be afraid.

Posted on Ao3 too!

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #kat writes #stranger things #Happy birthday Lex! #mwah ilusm

[fluffhuntress]

PUHLEASE WRITE SOVA AND ARGUMENT HURT COMFORT I WILL GIVE YOU A BIG OL SMOOCH

Cold worry- Sova x Reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort, basically Fluff

Warnings: mean Sova, argument, wound mentioned

Words: 1,7k

Note: Aghh I hope that is what you had in your mind, lmk so I can change it maybe! <3

GIF by partialveil

It wasn't an easy job working for Valorant's protocol, especially when it came to teamwork. You always needed to make the perfect calls, have the perfect synchronization - othrewise things might go wrong, like they almost did today.

"And why didn't you just stay where I told you, huh?!" You heard Sova marching towards you, holding his bow tight. His face was angry, his eyebrows narrowed. That wasn't a common picture of him, rarely ever was he showing his irritation or anger.

You turned around to him while changing the magazine "They got the site, no one was defending it" You shrugged. "And if it weren't for me we all could be dead right now, so I would expect atleast a "thank you"".

When Sova came closer he grabbed your arm, but accidentally so tight, you made a silent painful groan. Hearing that, he pulled up your cloth, just to see a wound on your arm. "Why do you have to be so reckless, why?" He said, making you feel so confused. Why was he reacting like that? What have you done wrong?

"Hey!" You shouted, unleashing your arm from his grip. "If I didn't act fast both of us wouldn't be talking right now. What is wrong Sova?" You gave in an answer as you kneeled to pick up the stuff you left on the ground.

"You should have waited for the call." He stated

"Right!" you sighed with a spice of anger. "And let you and the rest die."

"That is not what I mean, Y/n-"

"THEN WHY DO YOU TREAT ME LIKE THAT" You interrupted, already with tears in your eyes. The hunter went silent, not sure what to say. He didn't expect you to cry. You grabbed your weapon and what might be in use, and quickly turned around to leave the site.

"Hey, wait Y/n" Reyna tried to hold you as you were walking towards the jet, but you pushed her away without a word, still going forwards. Rayna sighed, and gave Sova an judging look.

"You make this right." She stated as she turned back to make her way to the jet too.

It wasn't weird that both you and Sova didn't say a single word to eachother on your way back to the base. Actually, noone did after the argument you had with him. You guys never argued. Yet the man made you cry, for the first time since you didn't even remember when. This time, it was silence that felt safe for everyone.

After you came back to the base, you put your gear to where it belonged and immidiately went to your room. You couldn't handle the sadness that you kept from everyone on the jet anymore. The moment you closed the door to your room, you started crying. It hurt you. Normally, you wouldn't care, but the words you heard came from the person you cared about the most - which made the feeling even more painful.

You weren't the only one struggling with this situation though - Sova was too, as it was an uncommon reaction of his. He knew, he was too harsh, especially for you. He would never want to be a reason of your tears, yet he was this time. You guys didn't talk after the argument, but you perfectly knew, that you are not the only one having hard feelings today.

For the rest of the day, you kept yourself locked in your room, doing actually anything to keep your mind occupied. You tried not to think of Sova's words, but those kept playing in your head all the time. You could even feel his cold words, only making your current well-being worse.

--

When you were preparing yourself to sleep, you heard a silent knock. You quickly put yourself together, since you looked a little bit like a mess, worn a random hoodie to cover you and rushed to open the door. You weren't surprised, when you saw Sova standing in the entrance to your room.

"I understood my lesson, no need to continue." you sighed, crossing your arms.

"Actually, I'm here to apologize" The hunter answered as you opened the doors wider. "May I come in?" You didn't say a word, and just let the man in, closing the door behind, trying to pretend like you don't care. The truth was, you cared a lot and it meant a world to you that you two had a stable relation. Sova was there for you since the day you've joined the protocol, always supportive, making sure that you feel okay around and that everything is clear for you. So far, it was him who you always looked up to in the team.

"Look... what I said, I didn't mean that." Sova started as he stood before you. You could say that he felt guilty as hell. His worried eyes eyes told everything, and the way he hold his hands, moving one thumb against another. "I'm sorry Y/n" he broke the silence "I was in shock, furious, and what you did was dangerous, you could easily die."

You only nodded your head. Hearing him explaining himself made you want to cry, but you tried to hold it again.

"There was no other way, you know" you started, your voice cracking. "If I didn't rush then the enemies would have taken the area, blowing up us all" Your throat tightened, as you tried to speak further "If... if you just let me explain then!" a small tear left your eye, as you couldn't pretend anymore. "I-I just..."

Sova shushed you, and immidiately gave you a strong hug.

"Shshshhhhh" He whispered calmly to you. "I was worried I might loose you" He added with a spice guilt in his words. It hurt him to see you like that. And the worst was, that it was only because of him. He was the reasony why.

"Didn't sound like a worry" you murmured to his chest, sobbing quietly in his arms. For a while, the hunter didn't say anything. You just stood here in one place in silence, untill Sova has spoken to you unwrapping his arms. His forhead touched yours, forcing your eyes o meet his.

"I was worried that the next time something like that happens, I might not get to talk to you again" He said, putting his hand on your cheek, rubbing away the tears that kept dripping down your chin. "This is the reason I came out so harsh." Despite the sadness, your body felt a little bit warmer after his words. Hi words were honest, and that's what was important to you now.

You kept staring into Sova's eyes, trying to read what was happening in his mind. It wasn't that hard, since you knew him perfectly by now. You could always tell wether he fells sad, guilty, or angry, even if he did his best to hide it. "Don't feel that guilty, please" you said quietly, demanding that he pays attention to you now. "I would probably react the same now when I think of that"

Sova hummed, not even changing his face expression, other than closing his eyes. "Oh no, we don't do that here" you stated and tickled him on his weak spot under the arm. He chuckled a little bit trying to stand back but you didn't let him,

"Promise me you won't beat yourself with guilt. I know how much you overthing stuff like that" You then said, giving him a warm smile, and he gave you one too as an answer.

"It's late" He sighed. "Should get back to my room." And again, Sova wanted to hide in his own guilt bubble. A typical reaction of his. But not this time - you thought.

"You're not leaving untill you prove me you don't feel guilty anymore" you stated.

"I hurt you, Y/n" Sova said as he slowly turned to the door, putting his hand on the handle. "You didn't deserve this kind of treatment..." He felt awfully bad about his reaction. Even though he fucked up and left you crying for the rest of the day, you still felt bad for him. You perfectly knew how it is to blame yourself too much, you perfectly knew the feeling of regret. "Sova..." you said quietly.

You came closer to him from behind, putting your hand on his on the handle. "Come here" Your hand grabbed his, guiding the hunter to sit with you on the bed.

"No matter what happens, I wouldn't hate you" you said quietly, looking forwards, still holding his hand. "And I hate to think of you punishing yourself. Look at me" The archer turned his head to you, and at the same moment you gave him a kiss on his cheek. "You're a dum dum sometimes, but you're my dum dum" you chuckled.

Sova's face slowly changed to a little bit reddish. He looked slightly to his left, not exactly sure, how to react now. You found it cute, how embarrased and confused he was in situations like that.

"Awww, lil owl got embarassed?" you teasted him, giggiling under your nose. Sova chuckled, as a stronger blush painted on his face.

"Okay, I owe you that" he smiled. "But the next time you call me this I won't hasitate"

"Alright, we'll have to argue again then" you said, pretending to be serious.

"NO." he gave you in an answer, which made both of you laugh. "But promise me something, Y/n." he then continued. You rised your eyebrow, waiting for him to end his thought.

"Promise me, that whatever you'd do, you'd make it out alive" Only now you have noticed, how important your life was to him. God, do you really had to have such an ugly argument, to finally realise that? - You thought.

I promise

#valorant #sova #valorant sova #valorant x reader #valorant sova x reader #sova x reader #valorant fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #hurt comfort #valorant x y/n #sova the hunter #sasha novikov #valorant fluff #sova fluff #fluff

[ineffablelunatic]

@oddsydviscous, @thattransboyaled and I have made a fabulous Ghosts highschool AU!

Thomas: Massive theatre kid, is a member of the drama club and is in every play, plays the acoustic guitar in a sappy band. He carries a satchel full of poetry and writes with an actual calligraphy pen. He has a new crush every week.

Kitty: Eats lunch in the art block every day, has had a long-term secret crush her entire time at the school. He's actually some hapless guy in one of the years above who's never spoken to her, but she's convinced herself that they're in love. Really she just wanted to have a crush, rather than actually liking him. She and Thomas are best friends.

Humphrey: Always hangs out in the library with his nose in a book, massive English nerd (the subject, not the nationality). He runs the school magazine and he's very, very shy.

Captain: Also a theatre kid, although less outrageously so, plays the trumpet in the marching band. He's the one who plays the song at the start of every Remembrance Day assembly. CCF Squadron leader. Good at languages. Also on the fencing team and joint head of the cricket team.

Mary: Hopelessly shy, almost never talks unless she's picked on by a teacher, everyone is shocked if she actually speaks. She runs the gardening club, which has a small but loyal group of members. Sometimes she bakes cookies for her close friend group.

Pat: Joint Head of the student council, also Head Boy. He runs a lot of clubs. Nobody is quite sure how he manages to attend all of them. He's not necessarily popular, but nobody actively dislikes him - after all, he's hard not to like. Except for the teachers, that is - no real reason, he gets good grades, but he talks to anyone who's next to him, no matter how many times they move him.

Julian: Typical bad boy. Poor attendance, throws parties every weekend, sticks gum under the desk, vapes in the Maths block toilets. He and Robin sell sweets behind the bike sheds. He has a lot of special offers on, but only if you're cool enough. He's also obscenely rich, but he just wants the money for extra pocket change.

Robin: Physics nerd, struggles with English. He does Julian's homework for him (he blackmails Julian into paying a fiver for each piece, or else he'll snitch). The two of them dominate the chess club. They essentially have an underground black market for contriband going. Somehow they haven't been caught yet.

Fanny: Head girl, Joint Head of the Student Council. Not very popular. She's the teacher's pet and enforces all the rules, even though it's not her job. Everyone hates her, but she gets good grades, especially in Maths. She doesn't really try in any other subject. Always telling people to tuck their shirts in and stop talking. All the Year 7s are scared of her. Her and Pat organise the discos, and she loves textiles class.

Alison: The beloved student counselor and head of Pastoral Care. The students always go to her for help, partially because she keeps a bowl of sweets on her desk. She also teaches PSHE, and she has a lot of pride flags on her wall. She's really into art, and she met Mike by sitting next to him on an art course. Lets kids do mindful colouring the day before their exams.

Mike: The PE teacher who's nice enough, but he's always on his phone and doesn't let you wear a jacket, even when it's freezing cold and he's wearing a scarf. Still, all the students like him. He'll let you sit off sport if you don't feel up to it.

Havers: Transferred mid-year, was very close with Captain before he left. Basically the only person Captain spoke to. He was one of those kids that everyone knows but nobody has a strong opinion on. He also hung out in the library a lot. He struggled with Maths, French and Spanish but was good at most other things. Very sporty - head of the cricket team alongside Captain, fastest runner, on the table tennis team. Captain is good at languages and liked to tease him about it.

Annie: A student from the Catholic school down the road who taught Mary to speak up for herself a little more. She bunks off school to hang out with Mary. She's in the year above, and so she goes off to university before Mary, but they still call each other a lot, and she comes back to visit.

Bonus info: Pat and Fanny became joint heads of the Council because it was a tie. Pat wanted to do Rock, Paper, Scissors but Fanny said it was undignified. Fanny is also somehow on the PTA, despite not being allowed.

Alison plays music in class and has fairy lights in her office. She takes her class outside for walks in the summertime - but only if they want to go, otherwise they can just sit outside. She passively talks about feminism when the class are doing something boring, punishes those straight boys for the smallest things because she knows how they act around other people. Gets kids to write other things they could say instead of swearing.

Alison's screensaver on her work computer is a wholesome meme. Julian regularly hacks into the school system, although he needs Robin's help to do it. Sometimes he changes his grades using that method. If he does too well in Drama or Art he lowers them so he looks cooler. If he has negative housepoints he removes them and replaces them with positive ones.

#bbc ghosts #high school AU #This is very british coded

[hermannsthumb]

Prompt from our convo on Twitter (I'm on anon to hide my thirst): Hermann: *sigh* regrettably my meat is so large that it scares off potential partners Newt: *already grabbing the lube* fortune favors the brave dude please put that in me

i have nothing to say for myself ❤️ as u might expect, rated hard E, AND fabulous illustrations via a bonus collab with twitter/ao3 user newtability!!!

-------------------------------------------

Newt’s always understood that one of the most important parts of being Hermann’s lab partner is knowing exactly when to annoy him not for the sake of his own personal gratification (because Newt loves doing that, a lot, so much), but for the sake of Hermann’s own personal well-being. And, like, relaxation. Sometimes Hermann pushes himself a little too far and stays up a little too late into the night squinting and hunching over his computer instead of, like, actually going to bed, or he gets so caught up in scrawling away at his chalkboard that he forgets to have any meals beyond a cold cup of tea, so Newt makes it his business to pester Hermann until his concentration finally cracks and he storms out of the lab to go to bed or eat a stupid sandwich. Or just generally practice basic self-care. Well, at least, that’s what Newt tells himself. He really does get a kick out of being annoying sometimes, and he thinks that Hermann (though he would never admit it) gets a kick out of having something to be annoyed at sometimes too.

Anyway, today he’s ingratiating himself into Hermann’s personal space for entirely selfless, important, make-Hermann-take-a-break reasons. Hermann is slouching and squinting, grumpily, over his computer (as usual), typing away what's probably ten emails, grumpily, when Newt marches over and slams a pack of beer down onto his desk. Hermann doesn’t say anything—just squints between it and Newt through his crooked glasses just as grumpily. “What is it?” he says. He prods a pencil at one of the bottles. “And what is this? It’s not even four, yet, Newton, so I’ll thank you to keep your poor decisions on your side of the laboratory.”

“It’s a celebration,” Newt declares.

“Of what?”

“Of the second anniversary of when this all started!” Newt says. “Two years since our first day in the lab!” 

read the rest here on ao3 (18+!!!!!)

#newmann #maria's fanfiction tag #not sfw //// #Anonymous

[pucashell-z]

Being sick can put into perspective how stable/loving your household is.

When I still lived with my parents, I got sick in March 2021. viral bronchitis. Not covid, strep, or anything like that. They quarantined me in my bedroom because my mother was on cancer medication and they didn't want to risk me getting her sick. Okay, pretty reasonable. I had to mask when I left my bedroom and basically wasn't allowed to leave unless to make food to eat in my room, or use the bathroom. Still fairly reasonable.

I was treated like it was a personal, moral failing that I got sick. That the fact I had taken my mask off once when there was no one else around at work, because I worked order picking and it was difficult to run in a mask, was some act of malice towards my mother. As if I had gotten sick on purpose, in some attempt to hurt her. If she was in the room when I went out to feed myself, she would be-line out the house and glare at me until I was back in my room. My stepfather bought me some medication, yes. But only a basic cough syrup and some DayQuil. When I was having trouble sleeping, because DayQuil was meant to keep you awake, I asked for some NyQuil. I was sick for two weeks, and he couldn't remember to buy NyQuil any of the times he left the house. I survived off of grilled cheese while I was sick, even though I knew it would make my cough worse. But grilled cheese was the only thing that was quick and filling that would keep me from being in the kitchen any longer than necessary.

The treatment continued for another two weeks past when I got better, because even though the doctor outright told me I wasn't contagious, I still had a persistent cough. And that was all it took to be treated like a criminal by my own parents.

It's 2024 now. I don't live with my parents anymore. I got sick 5 days ago. It seems like bronchitis or a cold again, if I'm honest. The only thing missing is a fever. My spouse and their family is not nearly as cautious as my parents needed to be, and maybe that's part of it. But my new grandmother found out I needed medicine for my cough on my first day sick, I expected I'd have to wait until the next day, because she doesn't like driving and she already went out that day. Yet she immediately picked up her purse and went back out just to get me some medication that might help me.

My spouse doesn't like cooking alone, and definitely doesn't like cleaning. But they've been cooking meals for us and they've been the first to do dishes after. I wake up in the middle of the night with a coughing fit and I'll feel their hand on my back, gently patting. I get checked in on multiple times a day to ask how I'm feeling. My parents couldn't so much as text me to check on me when I was sick with them.

It's only been five days, but I feel so much better. I have to wonder if that's, in part, because I actually feel loved here. I know I am loved by them, and I love them too.

#genuinely im a little scared to post this #because this is the first public post Ive made mentioning the way my parents have treated me Ever #i normally keep it to private conversations and servers #but if you are truly loved you should feel it #I feel loved here #and wherever you are dear reader #I hope you feel loved too #in sickness and in health

[teememdee]

Everyone gets on Kai’Sa’s case for her design being “unfitting for her story” but Kassadin is shirtless and no one says anything about that. Hypocrites. (Half joking.) love your blog, by the way.

See this is interesting because I've seen Kassadin's design used as a further critique of Kai'Sa's. I've seen your point as well, and I do agree there is that double-standard, that making the male characters needlessly hot on purpose is more easily forgiven or ignored, but there's another interesting discussion here, about Kassadin himself.

Like I said before, besides the nonsensical cleavage, Kai'Sa's second skin is still unnatural and grotesque if you think about it existing in real life for a moment. Yes she should look worse but we have got to move past that. (Also her relationship with the second skin is something else that's very interesting to look at, her reliance on it and the moment where it's referred to as a parasite in Pinwheel as opposed to the usual symbiote label. anyway. that's a different post.)

Kassadin's design makes even less sense to me? Regarding his newer splash art and not the in-game model, he appears shirtless (and was in the old splash) but it still looks like some kind of skintight armor material that he got from... somewhere? That works... somehow? Same goes for the helmet. What is that? The implication is that he stole it along with the gauntlet he has, but there's no explanation as to what it actually is or how it works at all.

So the aforementioned criticism of Kai'Sa by looking at Kassadin is the thought that Kassadin has been thoroughly visually corrupted by the Void and is very distinctly unrecognizable to his former self, whereas Kai'Sa still looks "normal," and this is why Kai'Sa's design is bad. Which, maybe she looks more "normal" than Kassadin does because her second skin has allowed her to naturally adapt to the Void, whereas Kassadin relies on other matters to survive.

To me though, this is a misunderstanding of Kassadin's character. Without a concrete explanation of his armor and no word on what his actual human face / skin looks like anymore I feel like we can't speak on how much his body has been corrupted, and that's not the point. Kassadin's struggle is with his mind, how he spent a decade living aimlessly (literally described as a vagrant) and then chose to dedicate himself to an unwinnable quest for vengeance, one that others know he will not survive, yet he marches forward anyway. He is a man consumed and corrupted by his own grief, not an external threat.

Where he IS legitimately (still) shirtless is in his pre-Void skin, and THAT truly makes no sense. Following in line with the usual hot-on-purpose designs that League is oh so famous for, we are meant to believe that a man who lives in and travels in a DESERT doesn't wear a shirt. It's the opposite kind of deal as Braum and Ashe having nonsensical revealing clothing for their home climates, which they explained away with Iceborn cold resistance or whatever, but like. what if they all just wore normal clothes hm? Same can be said for Sivir. Please you both are going to get sunburnt so bad.

Basically Kai'Sa might not look as bad as she should but at least how she looks is mostly explained by her story, whereas Kassadin's design has little to no justification. Solution? More Kassadin stories that go over just where he has been and what he's been doing and how his mind is deteriorating. Bel'Veth literally says he does not have his full mind. Can I see? Can I know his wife's name please?

Anyway this took me over an hour to write for some reason. Here's a meme I stole off a twitter post ages ago.

#i've said it before and i'll say it again. if/when they reunite the issue will not be if kai'sa is recognizable or not #it will be whether or not kassadin is mentally able to do so #will they ever write it? one would hope so. a riot forge game maybe? idfk #kassadin needs more lore basically. put him in lor at least #kassfam #tanner answers #eh fuck it i'll put this in the big tags #kai'sa #kassadin #league of legends

[feanorianethicsdepartment]

Alright, I read your recent post and need to know - what is your interpretation of Maglor’s relationship with the twins?

askjdhslkjag my biggest self-inflicted problem in this fandom is that my take on maglor, elrond, and elros' relationship is so intensely detailed and specific i am forever tormented by none of the fic i read ever quite getting it right (from my perspective; i’ve read plenty of fic that presents a good interpretation on their own terms, it’s just never mine.) it’s simultaneously way darker than the fluffy kidnap dads stuff and nowhere near as black-and-white awful as the anti-fëanorian crowd likes to paint it, it’s messy and complicated and surrounded by darkness, and yet there’s also a sincere connection within it which mostly serves to make all those complications worse. angry teenage elrond is angry for a great many reasons, and the circumstances around him being raised by kinslayers account for at least half of them. there’s lots of complexity here, and i don’t see it in fic nearly as often as i’d like

(warning: the post... feathers? i already have an internet friend called faeiri this could be awkward - anyway, the post she’s talking about includes the line ‘everyone is wrong about kidnap dads except me.’ this post follows on from that in being as much a commentary about why various popular interpretations of both how the kidnapdoption went and the way people subsequently characterise the twins just don’t work for me as it is a setting out of my own ideas. i’m not really interested in getting into discourse here, i’m just trying to get my thoughts down. i’ve read fic with these interpretations before that i’ve liked, even, don’t take this as a Condemnation, aight? also this turned out long as hell, so i’m putting it under a cut)

i can never buy entirely fluffy depictions of kidnap dads

which isn’t to say i don’t read them! sometimes all i want is something sweet, for these kids to get to be happy for once. it’s not like i think their time with the fëanorians was completely devoid of laughter

it’s just. the pet names, the special days out, the home-cooked meals, it can get so treacly it stops feeling like the characters they are in the situation they’re in and turns into Generic Found Family #272

it soaks out all the complexity - which is the thing i am here for - and acts like oh, these kids were never in any danger, they were perfectly happy being abducted by the people who murdered everyone they knew, there’s nothing possibly questionable about this relationship at all

and... yeah. that’s not the characters i know. that’s not the context i know they belong to

i just can’t forget the circumstances that led them to meet

rivers of blood, the air filled with screams, a town ablaze, a woman choosing to die. every interaction the three of them have is going to proceed from that nightmare

(sidenote: i tend to hold it was maglor that raised the twins, with maedhros looming ominously in the background not really getting involved. it’s mostly personal preference, i’ve been in and out of the fandom since before this kidnap dads thing blew up and when i joined that was a perfectly standard reading)

(also the cave thing was a dumb idea, old man, if only because it implies beleriand had streams safe enough for children to play in at that point. the way it separates the twins from the third kinslaying is also something i don’t particularly vibe with)

probably my least favourite angle i’ve seen on the situation (edged out only by ‘maglor was actively abusive towards the twins’ which no no no no no no no no NO) is the idea that maglor (and/or maedhros, append as necessary) took the twins specifically to raise them

like, i get where it’s coming from, but it makes maglor come off as really creepy

(i have read fics where it is indeed played off as really creepy, but that’s not a maglor i have any interest in reading about)

(’mags 100% bad’ is just as facile a take to me as ‘mags 100% good’)

even if you’re saying maglor took them in because they had no one left to take care of them - i highly doubt they were the only children the fëanorians orphaned at sirion. idk, it always makes maglor seem much less sympathetic than i think it’s meant to

i prefer to think of it as more... organic? something that evolved, not something that was preordained. them growing closer gradually, the twins finding an adult who might maybe be on their side, maglor becoming invested in them almost by accident

and then the twins are so comfortable with the second scariest monster in amon ereb they frequently sass him off and maglor’s gotten so used to not hurting them he’s not even thinking about it any more. no one’s quite sure how it happened, but they’ve made a Connection

‘wait aren’t they a murderous warlord of questionable mental stability and a pair of terrified small children who’ve lost everyone they ever knew? isn’t that kinda fucked up?’ yup! that’s the point! complexity!

another idea i don’t like is the idea that maglor was an objectively better parent to the twins than eärendil or elwing

other people have talked about this already, i won’t rehash the whole thing. i will say that while i don’t think elwing was a perfect parent - someone so young, in such a horrible situation, i wouldn’t blame her for screwing up - i do think she (and eärendil) did the best by them they possibly could

this is one of the few things they have in common with maglor

something i come across now and again is the idea that sure, elwing and eärendil weren’t abusive or horrible or anything, but they were a couple of basically-teenagers with so many other responsibilities, there was only so much they could do. maglor, on the other hand, is an experienced adult who could take much better care of the twins

and...

first off, it’s not like mags doesn’t have a job. he’s a warlord, he has a fortress to help run, military shit to handle, lots of other stuff that needs to get done to stop everyone from starving or getting eaten by orcs. i feel like sirion had enough of a government there was plenty of opportunity for elwing to take days off and play with her kids, but in the fëanorian camp nobody really has the time to chase after a couple of toddlers, least of all one of the last points on the command network. they just don’t have the people any more

(seriously, the twins getting a formal education with tutors and classes and shit is a weirdly specific pet peeve of mine. this is a band of renegades, not a royal household; if there’s anyone left with those kinds of skills they almost certainly have more important things to do)

more than that, though - well, a quick glance through my late stage fëanorians tag should tell you a lot about what i think maglor’s mental state is like at this point. he is so accustomed to violence death means nothing to him, he’s lost most of his capacity for genuinely positive emotion to an endless century of defeat and despair, he hates everything in the universe, especially himself, he’s only able to keep functioning through a truly astounding amount of denial, and he covers it all up with a layer of snark and feigned apathy, which he defends aggressively because he’s subconsciously realised that if it breaks he’ll have absolutely nothing left

(maedhros, for the record, is... i’d say more stable, but at a lower point. maglor may interact with the world mostly through cold stares and mocking laughter, but at least his mind is firmly rooted in the present)

(on the other hand, at least maedhros lets himself be aware of what they are and where their road will lead)

which... this doesn’t mean maglor doesn’t try to be kind to the twins, or rein in his worst impulses around them

there’s just so little of him left but the weapon

he stalks through the halls like a portent of death and gets into hours-long screaming matches with maedhros and has definitely killed people in front of the twins

not even as, like, a deliberate attempt to scare them, but because when you solve most of your problems by stabbing them it’s pretty much a given that people who spend a lot of time around you are going to see you do it at least once

and sometimes, he curls up in an empty hallway, and weeps

... suffice it to say i don’t think elwing’s the more preoccupied, or the less mentally ill, parent here

just. in general, the fëanorians aren’t cackling boogeymen, but they’re not particularly nice either

no one has the energy left for that. not these isolated and weary soldiers at the end of a long losing war and the beginning of the end of the world. they don’t really bother to guard the kids against them escaping. where else are they going to go?

the sheer despair that must have been in the fëanorian camp after sirion, the knowledge that the cause cannot be fulfilled, that they are utterly forsaken, that they’re really just waiting to die -

it can’t have been a happy place to grow up in, under the shadow of loss and grief and deeds unrepentable, and the slow march of inevitable defeat

they would have had a better childhood if they stayed in sirion, raised by people who knew how to hope

but that isn’t the childhood they had. and despite everything i’ve said, i don’t think that childhood was an entirely awful one

yeah, see, this is where the other side of my self-inflicted fandom catch-22 comes in. just as much of the pro-kidnap dads stuff comes off as overly saccharine and simplified to me, i find much of the anti-kidnap dads stuff equally simplistic in the opposite direction

the idea that maglor and the fëanorians never meant anything to elros and elrond, that they had no effect on the people they became at all, that it was just a horrible thing that happened when they were children, easily thrown in the rear-view mirror...

that’s even more impossible to me than the idea that life with the fëanorians was 100% fluffy and nice

like, i’ve seen the take that elros and elrond hated the fëanorians from start to finish. they were perfect little sindarin princes, loyal to their people and the memory of doriath, spurning every scrap of kindness offered to them and knowing just what to say to twist the knife into the kinslayers’ wounds

... dude. they were six. hell, given their peredhelness, mentally they could easily have been younger

what six year old has a firm grasp of their ethnic identity? what six year old is fully aware of their place in history? what six year old would understand the politics that led to their situation?

don’t get me wrong, i can see hatred in there. but something else that doesn’t get acknowledged alongside it often enough is the fear

some of the stuff i’ve read feels like it gives the kids too much power in the situation. they’re perfectly happy to talk back to and belittle the people who burned down their hometown and killed everyone they ever knew, like miniature adults who don’t feel threatened at all

and, like, six. i can see them going for insults as a defensive measure, but it is defensive. it’s covering up fear, not coming from secure disdain

(and a lot of those insults sound, again, like things an adult who’s already familiar with the fëanorians would say, not a scared child who’s lost almost everything. why would a six year old raised by sindar and gondolindrim know what the noldolantë is, let alone what it means to maglor?)

(... i’m just ranting about this one fic that’s been ruffling my feathers for five years straight now, aren’t i)

i mean, i write elrond as the world’s angriest teenager, who snipes at maglor pretty much constantly, but the thing about angry teenage elrond is that he’s angry teenage elrond

he’s spent long enough with the fëanorians he has a pretty secure position within the camp, and he knows that maglor won’t hurt him from a decade and change of maglor not, in fact, hurting him

but as a small and terrified child abducted by the monsters his mother had nightmares about? he fluctuated wildly between ‘randomly guessing at things to say that wouldn’t get him killed’ ‘screaming at maglor to go away in words rarely more complicated than that’ 'desperately trying not to do or say anything in the hopes of not being noticed’ and ‘hiding’

(and i don’t think the twins were never in any danger from the fëanorians, either. quite besides the point that before they started orbiting maglor nobody was really sure what to do with them... well, they wouldn’t be the first children of thingol’s line the minions took revenge on)

(fortunately for them, maglor did, in fact, take them under his wing. by this point even their own followers are shit scared of the last two sons of fëanor, nobody’s going to mess with their stuff and risk getting mauled. tactically, it was a pretty good decision for a couple of toddlers)

more to the point, i feel like a child that young, in a situation that horrible, wouldn’t reject any kindness they were offered, any soothing touch in a universe of terror

in a world full of big scary monsters, the best way to survive is to get the biggest scariest monster possible to protect you. that’s how elros rationalises it when they’re, like, eight, mentally, but at the time they were just latching on to the only person around them who seemed to care about them

that’s how it started, on their end. two very young very scared children lost in a neverending nightmare clinging tightly to the lone outstretched pair of hands

as for maglor...

i’ve called mags evil before, but i see that as more of a... technical term? he is evil because he did the murder, he remains evil because he won’t stop doing the murder. hot take: murder bad

but that doesn’t make him, like, a moustache-twirling saturday morning cartoon villain. he is deeply unhappy with the position he’s in and the person he’s become, and he’s always trying not to take that final step over the edge

it’s not that i can’t see a maglor who is abusive or manipulative or who sees the twins more as objects than people. it’s just that that characterisation is one i am profoundly uninterested in. i do occasionally read fic with it, but it never enters my own headcanons

horrible people can do good things!! kinslayers can do good things!! the fallen are capable of humanity!! people can do both good and evil things at the same time, because people are complicated!! maglor is not psychologically incapable of actually taking pity on these kids!!!!

it���s... again, complexity. the fëanorians straddle the line between black and white, which is a lot less sharp in the legendarium than it’s sometimes characterised as. it’s what draws me to their characters so much, why i have so many stupid headcanons about them. pretending they fall firmly on either side of the line is my real fandom pet peeve

and, like, this moment? this sincere connection between a bloodstained warlord and two children who will grow up to be great and kind in equal measure? i may not entirely like the direction the fandom’s taken it recently, but that beat, that relationship, it still gets me

so no, i don’t think elrond and elros’ years with the fëanorians were an endless cavalcade of abuse and misery. i think there was love there, despite the darkness all around them

an old, tired monster, and the two tiny children it protects

maglor never hurts the twins, not ever, not once. his claws are sharp and his fangs are keen, if he so much as swatted them he’d rip them in half. instead he folds down the razor edges of his being, interacting with them ever so carefully. he has nightmares of suddenly tearing into their skin

seriously, the power differential between them is so great, maglor so much as raising his voice would break any trust they have in this horribly dangerous creature. fics where he does corporal punishment always get the side-eye from me

the mood of their relationship is... i find it hard to put into words. melancholy, maybe, like a sunny afternoon a few days before the end of the world. three people who’ve lost so much finding what respite they can in each other as the world slowly crumbles around them

there are times when it feels like the three of them exist in a world of their own, marked out by the edges of the firelight. maglor telling stories of the stars, elros giving relaxed irreverent commentary, elrond getting a few moments to just be, all their troubles kept at bay

they are the last two lights in a world sunk into darkness, the last two living beings he does not on some level hate. he will tear his own heart out before he sees them in pain

he teaches them to ride, he teaches them to read, he gives them everything he still has left. the twins should never have been in this situation, maglor probably isn’t entirely fit to take care of them, but it is what it is, and they take what love they can

(maglor depends on the twins emotionally a bit more than any adult should rely on any child. he’s still very much the caretaker in their relationship, but that relationship is the only one he has left that’s not stained by a century of rage and grief. he’s obsessed with them, maedhros tells him frequently. maglor’s standard response to this is to try to gouge maedhros’ eyes out)

(that particular darker side to their relationship, where maglor’s attachment to the twins turns into a desperate possessiveness - that’s not something i think i’ve ever seen in fic. which is a shame, it feels much closer to my own characterisation than the standard ways this relationship gets maleficised. darker, in a different way than usual. horribly compelling in its plausibility)

however you want to read it, i don’t think you can deny this is a relationship that defines elrond and elros’ childhood. they were raised in the woods by a pack of kinslayers, the text is quite clear on this

but i’ve seen a lot of talk about how elros and elrond are only sirion’s children. they are completely 100% sindarin, they love and forgive eärendil and elwing thoroughly and without question, they identify with doriath over - even gondolin, let alone tirion. the fëanorians - the people who raised them - had zero effect on the people they grew into and the selves they created

and that, more than anything else, i find utterly unbelievable

look, i get what this is a reaction to. a lot of the kidnap dads stuff paints the fëanorians as elrond and elros’ ‘real’ family, and i’ve already talked about what i think of the idea that maglor-and-possibly-also-maedhros were better parents than eärendil and elwing. i think it’s reductive and overly optimistic and just a little too neat

but to say instead that elrond and elros held no great love in their hearts for maglor, no lingering affinity with the fëanorians, no influence on their identity from the people they grew up around, none at all? that after it happened they just left it behind and resumed being the same people they were in sirion?

that strikes me as just as much an oversimplification. it sands down all the potential rough edges of their identity, all that inconvenient complexity that stops them from fitting into any well-defined box, and replaces it with a nice safe simple self-conception i find just as flat and boring as declaring them 100% fëanorian

we can quibble over who they call ‘father’ (i personally find that whole debate kinda petty) but denying that it was actually maglor who was the closest thing they knew to a parent for most of their childhoods, and that that would, in fact, affect the way they thought of themselves and their family, elides so many interesting possibilities out of existence

(i’m not even going to get into the most braindead take i have ever heard on the subject, namely that because their time with the fëanorians was such a small fraction of elrond’s total lifespan it was like being kidnapped for two weeks as a toddler and had no greater significance than that. do you not understand what childhood is????)

like, i tend to think of elrond as a child as being very loudly not-a-fëanorian. elros is more willing to go with the flow - hey, if the creepy kinslayer wants kids, elros is happy to play into that in order to not be murdered - but elrond is very firm that he’s not happy to be here and he doesn’t belong with them

(this is after they get over their initial terror, of course, when they’ve realised they won’t be fed to the orcs for the tiniest slight. even so, elrond only really gets shirty about it around people he’s comfortable with, whose reactions he can reasonably guess at. naturally, the first person he does it to is maglor)

elros calls maglor their father exactly once, when they’re... maybe early preteens? this is because elrond hears him do it and immediately loses his shit. they have a dad, elrond says, in tears, and a mum, and any day now their real parents are going to come to pick them up and take them home

... right?

it gets harder to believe as the years roll on, as their memories of sirion fade, as they find their own places within the host, as maglor watches over them as they grow. elrond still mentally sets himself apart from the fëanorians, but it’s more of an effort every year. life in the fëanorian camp is the only one he’s ever really known. he can barely remember his mother’s voice

then the war of wrath starts, and the fëanorian host drifts closer to the army of valinor, and the twins come into contact with non-fëanorians for the first time in forever, and it becomes clear just how obviously fëanorian elrond is. he always insisted he wasn’t like the kinslayers at all, but he dresses like them, talks like them, fights like them

the myth cycles the edain tell are almost completely unfamiliar to him, he barely remembers the shape of the songs of lost doriath. even these sarcastic commentary and subversive reinterpretations he made of maglor’s stories - those were still maglor’s stories! he’s been trying to guess at the person he was meant to be, but it’s growing nightmarishly blatant how little elrond ever knew about him

instead, the people he was born to are as alien to him as the orcs of morgoth. he is a fëanorian, through and through

... yeah, elrond (and/or elros) having an absolutely massive identity crisis upon being reintroduced to his quote-unquote ‘true kin’ is another angle i’d love to see in fic that i don’t think i’ve ever come across. all those potential grey areas around who they are and who they’re supposed to be sound utterly fascinating, and i think it’s the complexity i hate to see elided over the most

i really, really doubt they could effortlessly slot back into being eärendil and elwing’s children. not when they’ve been surrounded by, lived alongside, been raised by the people who were supposed to enemies for most of their lives

they just don’t fit into that box any more. they can’t

speaking of eärendil and elwing, while i do agree that they both (especially elwing) get a lot more flak than they deserve, i don’t agree that therefore elrond and elros were never the slightest bit mad at them and fully forgave them for everything with no reservations

because, well, they were left behind. elwing had no other choice, but they were still left behind; it led to the world being saved, but they were still left behind. all the best intentions in the universe don’t erase the weeks and months and years of waiting, of a hope that grew thinner and frailer until it finally quietly broke

that’s a real hurt, and a real grievance. even if the twins rationally understand that their parents were making the best out of their terrible situation, you can’t logic away emotions like that. it’s perfectly possible for them to know they have no reason to resent eärendil or elwing, and yet still harbour that bitterness and pain

(i did write a thing once where elrond loudly rejects eärendil as his father in favour of maglor, but something i didn’t add in that i probably should have is that elrond later regretted doing that)

(not like, several centuries later, when he’d grown old and wise. two hours later, when he’d calmed down. but he was still legitimately angry at eärendil, because the one thing angry teenage elrond was not lacking in was reasons to be mad at the adults around him, and before he could figure out if he had anything less furious to say the hosts of the valar left middle-earth behind)

(it’s another element to the tragedy of the whole thing. in that particular story, which is mostly aiming for maximum pain, the only thing elrond’s birth parents know about their son for thousands of years is that he hates them)

(and he doesn’t, not really. you can’t hate someone you’ve never known)

not that i think they couldn’t ever make up with their parents! fics where elrond and his birth parents work past all the things that lie between them and form a functional familial bond despite it all give me life. i just don’t like the idea that there’s nothing difficult for them to work past

i don’t like the idea that elrond and elros would naturally, effortlessly identify with the mother they last saw when they were six and the people they only vaguely remember. i can see them doing it as a political move, i can see them going for it as a deliberate personal choice, but i can’t seeing it being immediate and automatic and easy

no matter how great a pair of heroes eärendil and elwing are, that doesn’t change the fact that to elrond and elros, they’re at most a few scattered memories and a collection of far-off stories. and so long as the twins stay in middle-earth, they’re never going to draw any closer

compared to the dynamic, multifaceted, personal, and deep bonds they have with the fëanorians - who, and i know i keep saying this but i think it gets tossed aside way more casually than it should, are the people who actually raised them, their birth parents must feel like a distant idea

and that’s why i can never buy interpretations of elrond as 100% sindarin, a pure son of doriath, with no messy grey areas or awkward jagged edges to his identity. given everything we know about his life, it seems almost cartoonishly simplistic

honestly it seems like a narrative a bunch of old doriathrin nobles trying to manouevre elrond into being high king of the sindar or something would propagate. it's neat and nice and tidy, something that’d be much more convenient for everyone if elrond did feel that way

but i just don’t see how he can. this narrative is easy and simple in a way real people never are, it ignores all the forces pulling him apart. elrond being uncomplicatedly sindarin with the life he lives and the people he's close to - that doesn’t make any sense to me

which isn’t to say i think he’s 100% noldorin, from either a gondolindrim or a fëanorian perspective. (i find it a little more believable, given, again, who he grew up around and who he hangs out with, but it’s still a bit too reductive for my tastes.) it’s also not to say i couldn’t believe an elrond who made an active choice to emphasise his sindarin heritage

it’s not how i think of him, but it works. i don’t have a problem with other people interpreting the complexities of the twins’ identities differently

i just have a problem with people acting like it doesn’t exist

in general i think there’s a lot untapped potential that gets left behind when you declare the twins, separately or together, as All One Thing

they’re descended from half the noble houses of beleriand, and they have deep personal ties to most of the rest. they belong to all of the free peoples even the dwarves, somehow, probably and i feel like that was kind of the old man’s point? so many peoples meet in them, to say they wholly belong to any one species is probably an oversimplification

they sit at a crossroads of potential identities, and rather than narrowing down their worldviews to one single path, they take the hard road and choose all of them. that’s what you need to do, if you want to change the world

and, to bring this back to my ostensible topic, in my estimation at least this mélange of possible selves does include them as fëanorians! it’s not overpowering, but it’s certainly there, and the adults they grow into long after they’ve left the host still bear influence from their childhood

nothing super obvious, nothing that wouldn’t stand out if you didn’t know what to look for, but there’s something almost incandescent in how fiercely elros reaches out for his dreams

there’s something almost defiant in elrond’s drive to be as kind as summer

as for who they publically claim as their family... honestly, it depends. while it’s usually more tactically prudent for elros to connect himself to his various human ancestors, on occasion he does find a use for his free in with the elf mafia, and elrond, code switcher par excellence, is famously the son of whoever is most politically convenient at the moment, which is rarely, but not never, maglor

(in the privacy of their own minds, well, eärendil and elwing may have been the parents elros was supposed to have, but maglor was the parent he actually had, and elros doesn’t particularly care to mope over what might have been. elrond, for his part, figures that after all the shit maglor has put him through, the least that bastard owes him is a father)

but honestly? i think before any of their mountain of identities, before thinking of themselves as sindarin or gondolindel or hadorian or haladin or fëanorian or anything, elrond and elros identify as themselves

they are peredhil, they are númenóreans, they are whoever they make themselves to be. that’s how elrond finally resolved his identity, figured out who he was and found something past the pain and the rage

he wasn’t doriathrin, or gondolindrin, or falathrin, or fëanorian, or whatever else. he was elrond, no more and no less

and that person, elrond, could be whatever he chose to be

... elros came to a similar conclusion, with much less sturm und drang that he’s willing to admit. being able to go ‘hey, i can’t possibly be biased towards any one of your cultures, because i’m descended from all of you and i was raised by murderelves’ makes it a lot easier to unite people around your personal banner, turns out

the stories other people tried to force on them shattered into pieces, and the peredhel twins were free to shape themselves into anything they could dream of

and as the new world struggles alive, these lost children of an Age of death begin to bloom into their full glorious selves -

i just. i love the poetry of that. despite every single shadow that hangs over their past, despite all the clashing notes pulling them apart, they harmonise it all into a greater, kinder theme, determined to make their world a better place in whatever way they can

they fail, of course, but so do all things. the inevitable march of entropy doesn’t diminish the long millennia they (and their descendants) held onto the light

and their growing up in the fëanorian host definitely had a huge effect on the noble lords they became. you can see it in elros’ loud ambition to create a land of happiness and hope, elrond’s quiet resolve to heal all the hurts inflicted by this marred reality

it wasn’t a perfect time by any means, but neither was it a nightmare. it was what it was, a desperate existence at the edge of a knife where, nevertheless, they were loved

even after years upon decades upon centuries have passed, it’s hard for the wise king and the honourable sage to separate out and identify all the conflicting emotions swirling around their childhood. they never knew eärendil or elwing, true, but they also never really knew maglor

not as equals, not as adults, not as people who could truly understand him. he disappeared into the fog of history, leaving only childhood memories of razor-sharp, gentle hands

it’s messy and it’s complicated and getting any real closure would be like shoving their way through a thornbush with bare hands even if elrond could find the shithead, and yet at the core of it all, there is light. not the brightest of lights, maybe, but an enduring one

that contrast, above all, that note of warmth amidst the shadows, is what fascinates me so much about their relationship. three screwed up people in a screwed up world, finding a little peace with each other

and the fact that somehow, it does have a good ending - the children grow up magnificent and compassionate and just, they become exemplars of all their peoples, lodestars of the new world born out of the ashes of the old - that makes it seem to me like this relationship must have contained some fragment of happiness

but, fuck, all the darkness that surrounds that love, all the tangled-up emotions its existence necessitates, all the prefabricated self-identities it can never slot into - nothing about it is simple, nothing about it is easy, and i find that utterly enthralling. especially how, despite everything, that flickering light never goes out

well, i don’t think it does, anyway. my take on this relationship is both complicated enough no one else ever quite gets it right and well-defined enough every single ‘error’ in other people’s interpretations sticks out like a kinslayer in rivendell

it is an entirely self-inflicted problem, i will admit. other people are allowed to interpret those complexities differently from me, and it’s entirely my own fault i lack the :waves hands around nebulously: to write my own hypothetical fic on the subject at a pace faster than glacial

still, though. i do wish there was more fic out there that engaged with these complexities. a lot of the common fandom interpretations of this relationship just sweep it all away

#ask #my terrible headcanons #elros #elrond #maglor #elwing #earendil #feanorians #niphredilien #yellow feathered faerie #putting your old url in the tags for archival purposes #post nyanyannya askbox clearout #ironically it turned out almost as long as the songfic that clogged up my askbox in the first place #and it is DONE #fuck this took forever to write #stayed up late just to get it out the door so i don't have to think about it any more #this is a long ramble and i'm pretty sure the end is just me repeating myself ad nausem sorry #i'll admit to a certain pro-feanorian bias in my interpretation #but i also don't want elros and elrond to just. live in a neverending horrorshow for decades #the silm's cruel enough we don't need that #narratively i feel like elrond being All Of The Elves is a good mirror for elros being All Of The Humans #but it didn't really fit the angle i was going for #bleck #let's see how many followers i lose for this

[realcube]

haikyuu!! boys with a s/o that becomes clingy/affectionate while drunk

characters: kyōtani, kenma, iwaizumi, matsukawa and bokuto

thank you anon for this marvellous request mwah

ALL CHARACTERS ARE AGED UP!

tw// drinking, suggestive themes, sexual references, swearing

Kentarō Kyōtani

kyōtani was used to having a cool, laid-back s/o who was just as awkward about physical touch as he was 

i mean, that’s kinda a part of the reason he liked you so much - so y’all could get over your awkwardness together

so imagine his surprise when his usually level-headed, calm s/o came stumbling out of the club, a blubbering mess and threw themselves into his arms, wailing something about a maths test

THE AMOUNT OF EMOTIONS THAT FLOODED HIS MIND IN THAT ONE MOMENT OMFG ADFGHJKL

he was like ‘omg why are they touching me? i kinda like it- wait are they crying? tf? i ain’t ever seen them cry before- should i help them? lord everyone is looking at us now. so what the fuck do i do- AYE DON’T TOUCH ME THERE’

so he had no choice but to dip with you flung over his shoulder lol

he took you back to your shared apartment and forced you to drink some water and instead of ordering a take-out, he just gave you his leftover burrito which he took to the club smh

it was probably cold 

but that was the best he could think of at the time bc he simply needed to shut you up with food bc the alcohol in your system was causing you to become especially touchy, hence resulting in kyōtani getting especially aroused

but the last thing he’d do is fuck you while you’re drunk and i firmly believe that despite the fact kyōtani is a bit of a lout - he still has like a basic moral compass

but i mean if you kept being so damn suggestive then it was gonna be a lot harder for him to resist his urges

you were rubbing him up and shit, calling him every pet name in the book so ofc he just stuck a burrito in your mouth and went ‘stfu 😡’

the painful part was that he was silently enjoying it too (┬┬﹏┬┬)

(though, he was red from blushing lol, not anger) 

and he wasn’t used to it either so obviously he was gonna get flustered, i mean, everything was happening all at once

oh and you told him ‘i love you’ and he literally combusted like lord have mercy on this man 

just that morning you were calling him your ‘annoying rat boyfriend’ (jokingly, ofc) and now you love him?-

that wasn’t the first time you told him that you loved him but he was still blushing none the less 

and he stammered out a ‘love you too’ PRAYING that you wouldn’t remember any of this the following day

anyway, he cuddled you to sleep and railed you as soon as you sobered up - the end ❤

Kenma Kozume

pov: you’re kenma happily being a wallflower in the club then your s/o approaches you, demanding for you to fuck them 

- ok, end of POV - 

anyway, your speech was slurred so kenma wasn’t really sure if that was what you were asking him to do but if it was, he would’ve happily obliged if it wasn’t for the fact you were clearly drunk

mans was blushing though

bc y’all hardly ever do it but now - all of a sudden - you were tightly wrapped around him, garbling erotic threats into his ear

kenma was worried at first but you were like..really weak

so it wasn’t hard to get you off his torso, usher you out of the club and grip your hand as he ordered a taxi 

also kenma had read enough wattpad fanfictions to know how to deal with someone while they’re drunk 

but none of those fanfictions ever mentioned a single thing about how to deal with yourself while your partner is drunk

like seriously..he was in pain

both from the throbbing erection he had and the aching embarrassment he felt - both stemming from the fact you tried to give him a lap dance in taxi ✋ please oml

anyway, he took you back to his apartment and insisted that you have a few slices of the left-over pizza in the fridge along with a glass of water

after you changed into your pyjamas, you had clearly sobered up slightly as you could now compose coherent sentences

but that wasn’t any better for him bc now you were draped over him, whimpering into his ear about how much you love him

‘i’m so lucky to have you, kenma. i love you so much. you remind me of my first cat - you’re such a cat- i mean, blessing..you’re such a blessing.’ 

ngl, at that point he would be at a loss for words, just deciding to hug you until you fall asleep

like he finds it so cute that you’re finally opening up to him about how you feel as you’re usually quite composed and restrained 

but also- what does he do now? 

you eventually fell asleep in his arms and the next day, you woke up to kenma having made breakfast and telling you how much he adores you which was..confusing, to say the least

he told you about how you acted when you were drunk and to say you were embarrassed would be an understatement 

also, he’ll tease you about it for the rest of your life ;)

Hajime Iwaizumi

literally all you had to do was send him a text like ‘iwa...,,.,...ily so mycj ❤’’ and he’s already waiting in the line to get into the club lol

he marches in there, finds you, grabs your hand and drags you home 

let’s hope that your friends know what iwaizumi looks like so they don’t have to just watch a random guy haul you out the club-

and tries to act all like angry iwaizumi >:( but when you are trailing behind him, muttering about how amazing he is, he becomes more like angy iwa grrr (* ￣︿￣)

by that, i mean that angry iwaizumi would bring you home and lecture on how irresponsible it is to get so intoxicated 

but angy iwa just takes care of you but with a disapproving scowl 

and angry iwaizumi would make nasty, bitchy remarks about how inappropriate your outfit is 

while angy iwa would be like ‘babe, your outfit is lovely but maybe wear something different next time, idk....’

either way, he takes good care of you 

he makes sure you eat (and he cooks good food btw - he doesn’t make you eat leftovers lmao) 

he lets you change into more comfortable clothes

he ensures that you don’t die in the shower 

and he forces you to go to bed

but all of that is rather difficult when you’re clinging to him like your life depends on it, raving on about how sweet of a boyfriend he is and covering his face sloppy kisses

his original plan was to go train some more in his gym (yes, there is a gym in y’alls house-) but when you were peppering his cheek in kisses, begging him to stay with you for whatever reason, of course he didn’t have the balls to leave

 so he ended up laying like a log in bed as you cuddled up to him like koala, resting your head in his chest and allowing him to run his hand through your hair as you slept

in that moment - as he stared down at your tranquil figure - he realised how grateful he was for moments like these, as he finally got see a side of you that he knew you’d almost never exhibit when you’re sober

like yeah, you often tell him how much you love him but he can always tell that it’s as if you’re setting aside your pride to say such a thing but now, you’re gushing on about it with the most genuine look in your eyes, he can tell that you’re being completely sincere 

and to say that he adores it would be an understatement 

so yeah, you were kind of a pain while drunk but you were also the most adorable thing that iwaizumi had ever laid his eyes on (. ❛ ᴗ ❛.)

Issei Matsukawa

ok so the only reason matsukawa wasn’t getting drunk with you was bc the first time y’all got drunk together he got fined for public indecency and you got done for public intoxication

so you decided that it was best (for your wallets) if you took turns getting tipsy

emphasis on ‘tipsy’ bc you both went to the bar together (along with a few friends) and you promised matsukawa that you’d only have a few drinks 

so please explain to him why he is now having to carry you bridal style out of the bar because you are too hammered to walk properly 

and he was kinda grumpy bc he had to leave his friends mid-conversation bc not only were you pestering him but also, the erotic things you were whispering in his ear caused him to get a boner

and he was getting weird looks from people as he carried you home but that was the least of his problems tbh- he didn’t even notice lol

the biggest issue on his mind rn was the fact that you made him hard yet you can’t help him bc you’re drunk smh 

like he was tempted at first bc you seemed down to do it but he quickly came back to reality and realised how morally incorrect that’d be 

so he was mumbling curses the whole way home just to tune you out bc if he paid any more attention to the racy promises you were muttering in his ear- he’d explode

he’s alright at taking care of you like he isn’t iwaizumi’s level of caring but he’s a close second, i mean he’s gotten drunk plenty of times so he knows the basics

he was like ‘drink water idk lol ’

anyway, once he handled himself he wasn’t too fazed by your lustful advances

and he was so smug about it too deadass like ‘keep talkin’ me up, (y/n), you ain’t getting shit until you’re sober.’

smh ANYWAY he thinks you’re so charming when you’re like lovey-dovey drunk but SO annoying when you’re horny drunk bc like- he can’t get some (T_T)

Kōtarō Bokuto 

best for last 👌

ok anyway he’s an athlete and he doesn’t need alcohol to have a good time- he’s forever drunk tbh- drunk on life :)

so while you’re getting hammered with your pals, he’s doing stupid shit while sober lol

once you both rendezvous outside the club to head home and you’re absolutely steamin- he’s just like ‘hi, babe! how’s your night been?’

SO OBLIVIOUS OML

anyway, he drives back to y’alls house and since you’re fatigued at first, you spent 90% of the car ride sleeping

but when you get home, more awake, you’re all up on him

but you’re not like sensual drunk- more like..emotional drunk but with love 🥺

so basically you are sobbing into his chest about whatever and bc he is an such empath he will start crying too, or at least get a bit emotional 

you could say something like, ‘omg, bo. i hardly get to see you because you’re at work so often- i wish i could spend more time with you. i miss you so much’  ╯︿╰

and he would deadass reply whole-heartedly while weeping into your shoulder, ‘I’M QUITTING VOLLEYBALL, (Y/N)!!’

(ok, so maybe he was a bit tipsy too- but like..definitely not has drunk as you)

he has no idea where to start when it comes to taking care of you but he tries (´◡` ‘) 

at the very least, he ensures that you don’t having any more alcohol and that you don’t die somehow 

he’s v overprotective though 

you could be getting a fork to eat your instant-noodles with and he’ll be like 

‘apologies ✋ but i cannot allow you to handle such a dangerous weapon while intoxicated. maybe eat with a spoon instead, idk.’ /h

other than that, he just cuddles you to sleep and deals with you in your badly hungover state the next day

#haikyuu!! #haikyu x reader #haikyū!! #haikyuu x gn!reader #haikyuu x gender neutral reader #kyotani kentaro #kyotani x y/n #kyotani fluff #kyotani x reader #kyotani hcs #kyotani headcanons #kyotani x you #kenma x reader #timeskip kenma #kenma scenario #kenma x y/n #kenma kuzome #iwaizumi imagine #kenma fluff #iwaizumi fluff #iwaizumi hcs #iwaizumi x reader #hq iwaizumi #iwaizumi x you #matsukawa fluff #hq matsukawa #matsukawa x reader #matsukawa hcs #issei x y/n #hq issei

[cha-lyn]

A Series of Break Ins

bucky x black female reader

Summary: Someone breaks into your apartment

Warnings: break ins, lil bit of violence, wounds + blood

Words: 1617

A/N: Inspiration from @write-it-motherfuckers ( prompt is in bold somewhere below) :) some wonderful stuff on that blog

-------

January.

You lived in an old building in a shitty part of town. The loft kind that was once an office or a factory or something. Lots of windows. Terrible heat bill in the winter. You heard gunshots and fighting frequently. It wasn’t your dream home. No, your windows faced a manufacturing building with no windows. From your fire escape, if you stretched really far, you could cross the alley and touch the building. You only did that once though because the fire escape was rickety and not very safe.

That particular night, you were coming home from a mediocre date with a guy named Marcus. Usually you’d take a cab home, but your budget was tight this month. So you weaved through the alleys, the cold and the dark making you more jumpy than usual. You just wanna be home, with your warm fuzzy socks on and a glass of wine.

Your anxiety settles once you make it into your building. You take the steps two a time to your third floor studio. You open your door, shutting it quickly and leaning back against it.

That’s when the hairs on your arm stand up. Your eyes shoot open and your breath catches. Your kitchen light is on. You know it was not on when you left earlier. In your kitchen sits your first aid kit dumped out on the table.

You grab the baseball bat you keep next to the door and check every crevice of your home. Nothing.

You return to the kitchen, hesitantly. Next to the first aid kit is a napkin with a note: Sorry for the intrusion. I’ll replace everything I used. Thanks. - BB

You just looked at the note and blinked. Who the fuck had been in your apartment?!

The next day there’s a package outside your door containing the promised replacements from the stranger. There’s another note: Sorry again. -BB

You’re not quite sure what to do. Call the police? And say what- someone broke in, left no trace and then replaced what they stole? They would think you’re crazy.

February.

After the break in you upped your security. You got a deadbolt, a door chain, and a magnetic sensor on your front door that rang and alerted your phone when set off.

You felt pretty good about your upgrade… until it happened again. You’d come home late from drinks with a friend unlocked the door, then the deadbolt.

The light in your kitchen was on again. You grabbed your bat immediately, ready to swing on whoever was dumb enought to break into your house yet again.

“Whoa, whoa ma’am. Please don’t--” but you did. Whack him that is. Three times. And then a black gloved hand stopped your swings dead and blue eyes lock with yours.

“Holy fucking shit. B. B! It was you. Fucking Bucky Barnes broke into my house!”

He nods and watches your face as it goes from rage to confusion and then back to rage. You let go of the bat and he puts it behind him. “Look, I am really sorry. I know this is probably terrifying--”

“Yeah ‘cause I thought you were a god damn serial killer--not an Avenger!” You plop down onto a kitchen chair.

Bucky stared at you amused. “This is not how I thought this would go…”

“Don’t you have some Avenger place you can go and get fixed up? Instead of breaking into civilian households?” you sigh irritatedly.

“No. For one I’m not an Avenger…. And uh, two… I got hurt doing something not necessarily sanctioned by the government.” Bucky looked up at the ceiling bashfully.

“My god, you’re doing vigilante shit,” you breathed out a laugh.

Bucky shrugged, “You could call it that.” He wrung his gloved hands together. “I should go… I’ll send you replacements for the stuff I used. ”

“Or you could just not break into my house.” Bucky chuckled, before climbing out the window. “You could use the door!’

The man has the audacity to laugh as he closes your window, “Thanks again, doll.”

You let out a groan, wondering why on earth he chose your apartment and why on earth you weren’t more pissed off about it.

March

You’re dead asleep when you hear a thud on the fire escape outside your window. Your heart thuds like a bass drum as scenarios of you being murdered flash through your head. A stabbing. A shooting. God, please not a strangling. Then there’s a persistent tapping. You pretend to still be asleep, holding your breath and not moving.

“I know you're awake. I need to .. uh utilize your first aid kit again. Please, doll.”

Relief hits you like a wave and you flick the light on and get out of bed. You open the window and Sergeant Barnes slips through the space, holding his flesh arm, but not really effectively stopping the blood.

The two of you stand there for a second, until you remember that you don’t sleep with pants on and awkwardly move around him to find a pair of shorts. You find him sitting at your kitchen table again, waiting for you to get the first aid kit, like he doesn’t have a goddamn metal arm on him.

“For fuck’s sake…” You pull it out from under the sink and set it in front of him with a thud. Bucky smirks sheepishly. “Did you get shot again?” you ask after a while. He nods once as he gets to work. “Aren’t you like... super?” He nods. “Won't it heal super fast?” He nodded once again. “So what’s the point of the first aid kit?”

“You ask a lot of questions,” he sighs irritatedly.

You narrow your eyes, “Oh dear, am I inconveniencing you?”

He stops and looks up at you through his dark lashes. “Sorry. I’m being rude. What's your name anyway?”

You roll your eyes, but you tell him.

He cleans after himself and then stands. “Thank you again. Y/n.”

You ignore the lil shiver you get when he says your name, “Is this gonna be a regular thing Sargeant?”

Bucky flashed you a charming smile, “Do you want it to be, doll?”

You cross your arms and set you glare, “You have five seconds before I get my bat.”

Bucky let out a very boyish laugh before dramatically making his exit via the window again.

Over the next few days, you consider getting locks for the windows, but for some reason you just don’t.

Two weeks later, you open your door, arms full of groceries, and find Bucky sitting on the floor of your kitchen once more, first aid kit open in front of him. You’re not even surprised really.

“Ah, Hello again. We really need to stop meeting like this.”

You scoff, “Maybe we would, if you would sTOP BREAKING INTO MY FUCKING HOUSE!!” You toss your purse on the couch.

Bucky laughs and the winces and groans. It’s then that you realize he’s very pale in the face and his flesh hand isn’t gloved it’s just dark with blood.

You drop the groceries roughly on the table, “Shit Bucky. Are you-- You’re bleeding a lot!”

“I’m fine, doll.”

“I don’t think you are….” You panic, reaching for your phone, but remembering it’s deep in your purse across the room.

“You gotta-- you’re gonna have to sew it up, okay?”

“Let me just call an ambulance,” you get up to get your phone, but he grabs your wrist firmly.

“No. You can do this Y/n. I’ll walk you through it.” Something in his blue eyes assures you. You nod and Bucky has you cut his shirt off before he leads you through the cleaning of his wound. Your face felt hot at the sight of his beautiful broad chest, despite the mess around you. Bucky guided you, wincing and jaw ticking as you closed up his wound. By the end, your hands are red and sticky and you’re quite nauseous, but you didn’t care. The color was already back in his face and the sparkle back in his blue eyes. “You did good, doll.”

“I can’t believe I did that,” you say breathily. Bucky smiled fondly at you. You get up, wash your hands thoroughly and gently help Bucky up and to your couch. “You want something to eat? Let me get you some water.” You don’t wait for an answer before going to the kitchen. You bring him a bottle of water, a beer, and left over orange chicken from last night’s dinner- he inhaled all three while you cleaned and sanitized your kitchen floor.

“I should head out,” he stood up stiffly, favoring his wounded side. “I’m sorry about all this…” he gestured towards his wound and then to your kitchen. “It won't happen again. I’ll get my own first aid kit.”

You shrug, “You basically bought mine with as much as you use it.” You stick your hand out. “Phone.” Bucky eyes you warily before obeying. “How about next time you need to use my first aid kit, you just call first?”

Bucky smiles a lopsided, goofy smile, as you put your number in. “I think I can do that.”

Three days later, Bucky calls you around 7pm. Thirty minutes later there’s a knock at your door - not your window.

“What’s bleeding now--”

Instead of beat up and bleeding, Bucky stands before you in a black button up with a bouquet of flowers and a bag of take out. “Hey doll. I wanted to really apologize for everything and try to make it up to you,” he gives you a sheepish grin.

You can’t contain your own smile. “Well, orange chicken and flowers are a good start. Come in.”

----

Everything Tag List

@thefridgeismybestie

@basically-introverted

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes x you #james buchanan barnes #bucky x black!reader #bucky x poc!reader #mcu fanfiction #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes fluff #bucky #bucky drabble

[charlottepuddingsama]

Taste of Her Own Medicine

I wrote a zosan fic; come read it (Ao3 link in the reblog)

Description: Zoro is running late to a meeting with Sanji. When he finally gets there Sanji is swooning over the ex that crushed his heart while she peacocks and shows off her new boyfriend. People like that really pissed Zoro off.

Zoro checked his watch again. God damnit, he was late. Again. Which meant Sanji was going to kill him for it. Again. He couldn’t even pin this on Sanji this time, either, because Zoro was the one to suggest they meet at the fountain. To be fair, when he suggested it he’d been sure that he in-fact knew the way to the fountain. When he reached where it should have been, however, it inexplicably wasn’t there.

Now he’s rushing halfway across town to get to where it apparently actually is, if his phone’s map could be trusted (Zoro did not trust his phone’s map, sure that it was constantly sending him on the slowest, stupidest route possible. He was definitely always better off just going his own way). At least the exercise was warming him up, the sun yet to burn off the late spring morning’s chill.

He was only twenty minutes late, maybe Sanji would let him off easy for once? Zoro sighed inwardly, knowing that would never happen. It was going to be stupid to be yelled at about this, too, since they weren’t even doing anything where timing was all that important. They were just trying to find good birthday presents for Luffy. Zoro was kind of hopeless at presents while Sanji was always amazing at them, always picking out something thoughtful and custom-tailored to the recipient. Zoro most often showed up with an amazon gift card feeling completely stupid about it. Knowing this, Zoro had stealthily suggested they go hunting together so they didn’t, “buy him the same thing.” As if Zoro would ever give as good of a gift as Sanji would. He was actually surprised Sanji hadn’t seen right through him and refused, but the other had actually more-or-less readily accepted the idea. Zoro supposed there was a first time for everything.

The first time for Zoro to not make himself late, however, was not today.

After some wrong turns and two dead ends that might have actually been the same dead end twice, Zoro finally, finally saw the large fountain that marked the beginning of the city park come into view. He slowed his jog to a walk, glad he hadn’t yet broken a sweat. Couldn’t let Sanji think he actually cared about keeping their appointment. Not that it mattered what the cook thought, of course, but if he thought Zoro cared he might somehow get an even bigger head than he already had. Not that Zoro actually cared in the first place, too, of course. He hadn’t been looking forward to spending a whole day shopping with Sanji even a little. Not at all.

Zoro looked around the paved area, searching for Sanji amongst the small crowd mingling by the fountain. The day was still a bit crisp from the morning, but that didn’t seem to dissuade people as they gathered around the mouth of the park. Some were alone, some in groups, and others towed animals on leashes either walking the pets or clearly getting walked by them. Zoro surveyed the whole crowd, looking for Sanji standing off by himself, probably bent agitatedly over his phone with a cigarette in his mouth. None of the loners in the area fit his description though.

Had Zoro somehow actually made it here first after all? That didn’t seem even a little bit likely. He kept looking.

Finally, after a long moment of searching, he managed to spot him. A familiar head of blonde hair, a neat dress shirt, and long legs stood by the side of the fountain striking an impossible-to-mistake silhouette.

He wasn’t alone, though.

In front Sanji was an unfamiliar couple: some brunette girl holding the hand of an average looking boy. Was Sanji hitting on a stranger while her boyfriend was literally right there? Really?

Zoro’s face morphed into an unimpressed look. How classic. He really had no idea what he was expecting, offering to take Sanji around in public where he might run into females in the wild. A strong feeling of annoyance grew in his chest at just imagining the stupid drivel that must be spewing out of that mouth of his.

Zoro began to march over there with intentions to drag Sanji away by the ear when he suddenly stopped himself in his own tracks. His brows furrowed, studying the way Sanji was standing. His entire posture was eerily off. One hand was in his pocket while the other held a lit cigarette. His shoulders were tight and a little high, legs slightly farther apart than normal as if on defense. There was absolutely none of the easy oozing he exuded whenever he normally was chatting up some girl. He wasn’t swooning even a little.

Something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong.

A thrum of worry pulsed through Zoro. It wasn’t that he was worried about Sanji – he could take care of himself, plus, Zoro reminded himself, he didn’t give a fuck about him (how does he keep forgetting that?). Rather, he was worried about what kind of threat these two people could possibly pose to get someone as cool-headed as Sanji so visibly tense.

Looking at the two, he knew he couldn’t place the boy, but the brunette… did he know her? Her face was rather indistinct, no particular piece of it sticking out to him. Her clothes looked well-pressed, and they were probably fashionable, not that Zoro had any real frame of reference for that. Her brown hair was half tied up in two little buns on her head, the rest left to fall down past her shoulders. She just seemed like a completely random, normal person; an auto-generation of any other girl about their age in the city.

Then the girl laughed at something. The sound was shrill and obnoxious in a way that grated on every nerve Zoro had. He wanted to absolutely break something.

Oh. Oh. Ohhhh. Zoro knew exactlywho this girl was. He scowled at the memory.

She was some chick Sanji had dated for a while, maybe a couple months? A name itched at the tip of his tongue, but he couldn’t quite grasp it. Two months was considerably longer than most of Sanji’s little trysts. He had even brought her around to meet everyone once; it was kind of a big deal since they’re friends are not only their family, but also extremely likely to scare any normal person away. Sanji had really, really actually liked this girl, Zoro was pretty sure.

And then she dumped him.

She’d reportedly done it unceremoniously one night, completely out of the blue. She simply told Sanji that she was, “done with this relationship now,” and left. Zoro had heard that line a hundred times over in the weeks following as Sanji wallowed pitifully, hit hard by the sudden cold shoulder. It had not been a pretty sight in the slightest. The ever-enamored cook had eventually bounced back, like he always did, but it really had taken longer than usual. Even Zoro had felt sorry for the guy at the time.

And now here she was. A completely random encounter in a city filled with a thousand other people that could be here instead. And she had the nerve to do, what? Strike up a casual conversation with someone she herself had so soundly dumped, some new boy in her tow? Inching closer, Zoro just barely started to be able to hear them. It was clear even just from her tone that the words exchanged were more than awkward hellos. The girl was gushing about her boyfriend the businessman, annunciating the words as if she wanted the whole park to turn and listen. She played with some expensive looking necklace in a way that was definitely supposed to be noticed, certainly some token from her little purse-mule of a boy.

That kind of thing really pissed Zoro off. Dump someone for no reason? Fine, whatever. But then go shoving yourself at him? In public and at random? She had to know how Sanji was physically incapable of being anything but overly polite to women, abusing that to get her kicks. Zoro grit his teeth as he watched Sanji gush at her that she looked as beautiful as always, that he simply adored how her hair grew out since he’d last seen her, that he was so happy she was so well taken care of. Underneath the gushing Zoro could practically feel how upset this whole encounter made Sanji, a self-pitying tone sewn into each sentence. It was like he was a slave to his own actions. The girl clearly let her ego be boosted by his attention and that made Zoro even angrier.

Zoro eyed the boy she had tugged along. He may have been some business guy or whatever, but he certainly didn’t look very impressive. His haircut was basic, his jacket was a bit too big and made him look like he was playing dress up, and his expression seemed far away as if zoned out. Zoro had him beat in muscle and looks easily. Zoro’s shirt was tight against his well-built chest, his jeans were slung low to show just a peak of his boxers, he’d have a healthy little glow from his jogging, and he raked a hand through his hair to give it a little volume. He was fully aware of exactly how good he looked in comparison and just pissed off enough to decide he might as well use it.

He wanted to see if little miss ex could handle a taste of her own medicine.

“Oi, Sanji,” he called, finally making his way to the trio. Sanji’s shoulders jumped to his ears. Zoro thought he looked like an animal frozen in crosshairs, waiting for its instincts to lead it to fight or flee. He turned slowly to look at Zoro, his face in a very un-handsome expression of combined panic and agitation.

Zoro fought his instinct to give just as nasty an expression back knowing he was now being watched by the brunette; his little show had now officially begun. Instead, he gave Sanji an easy smile as he sauntered over to him, eyes only on him, pretending to not even notice the couple right in front of them. This, of course, only lead to Sanji scrunching up his face in incredulous confusion. If this idea was going to work Zoro was going to have to wipe that look right off him.

When he was beside him, Zoro slung an arm around Sanji’s shoulder, letting himself drape over the other. Sanji was only one centimeter shorter than him and just as strong, so it always surprised Zoro just a bit how slight his naturally thin frame felt in his arms. A small, stupid rush of protectiveness briefly filled his chest and for once Zoro indulged it letting himself draw Sanji close to him. Sanji went stiff as a board and his eyes blew open in surprise. Zoro took advantage of his surprise, not letting him even think about getting a kick in as he reached out with his other hand to grab hold of Sanji’s stubbled chin.

He drew the other in for a quick, soft kiss.

The sharp scent of tobacco filled Zoro’s senses, but underneath it lied the familiar aroma of spices that followed Sanji everywhere he went. The scent was familiar, but the feel of Sanji’s lips against his was new. For all the times he’d bitten a mark into Sanji’s pale flesh, nipping along skin usually hidden later by shirts, Zoro couldn’t actually remember them kissing. If they ever had, they certainly would never do it as gently as this. He counted to ten in his head, wanting the kiss to look real while still public-appropriate.

Zoro was perfectly prepared for Sanji to remain like cardboard, perfectly fine carrying the kiss by himself. Suddenly, though, as if some sort of switch had gone off, Sanji softened, easing into Zoro’s hold like butter into warm bread.

All at once Sanji’s plush lips gently pressed back, allowing his weight to fall where Zoro’s arms had guided it. The count in Zoro’s head faltered for a second, mind going dumb from shock. Zoro had kissed plenty of people before, was a damn good kisser himself, but somehow nothing had ever felt like this. There was something in the way Sanji relaxed into him, how perfectly their lips slotted together, and the sensory of the strong scents and rough stubble and pillowy softness of lips. It all made even such a simple kiss simply intoxicating. Had they really never done this before? Why the hell not?

At ten (or was it eleven? Twelve?) Zoro drew his head back, ending their kiss with the soft sound of lips parting. He didn’t go far, though, hand still on the other’s chin, their breath mixing in the space between them. He opened his eyes, not knowing when he’d closed them, to find Sanji staring at him with a dazed expression and a gentle, pink blush spread across his cheeks. Zoro couldn’t help but smile, a strange feeling like fondness welling up in his chest. It was probably just hormones, like always, reminding him of the other times he’d made the typically put-together Sanji blush in more heated circumstances. Yeah, that was it, had to be.

“Thanks for waiting,” Zoro said, for once owning up to being late. Sanji blinked owlishly at him, as if trying to place where they were and what they were supposed to be doing. At that cute look something compelled Zoro and he made no move to stop it, giving a sweet kiss to the bit of forehead poking out from blonde bangs as if in apology.

“Ahem?” an impatient voice said, jarring Zoro back into reality. When had he left? It was like he’d had complete tunnel vision. Now, though, the situation around him came back into sharp focus. The mild chill of the spring air, the bubbling fountain behind him, the obnoxious couple in front of him, the reason why he did what he just did. Yes, right, he’d had a reason for doing that. One, singular, solitary reason and absolutely no other. A mission, even. Right.

Zoro dropped Sanji’s chin, ignoring the tingle in his hand and the definitely non-existent desire to hold him elsewhere. He instead hooked his thumb in one of his belt loops and assumed a pose hanging off of Sanji who was now tucked rather snugly into his side. The girl had her arms crossed and looked huffy. He raised an eyebrow at the two, acting as if they’d been the ones to interrupt him. “Sorry, didn’t see you there,” Zoro said casually, just knowing an egotistical bitch like her would be bothered by that. Sure enough, the girl’s eye twitched just a bit. Zoro held back a smug smile at getting a reaction so easily. “And you would be?”

Indignation flashed in the girl’s eyes. Had Zoro asked that rudely? Oh, pardon him. She stood herself up to look taller, as if looking down on him despite being a few inches shorter. Zoro refused to be phased.

“I’m Alice,” the girl introduced herself, not bothering to introduce the boy with her. It was probably for the best as the boy’s eyes had followed Zoro’s thumb down to where it rested, clearly distracted.

“I’m sure Sanji has told you all about me,” she added with fake sweetness, an almost sadistic smile crawling up her face. Alice, right. Alice was definitely the name Sanji wailed into his empty wine glass when Zoro and the others had tried to take him out on a boys’ night to cheer him up. He actually used to kind of like that name, but now it was forever tainted with the memory of this haughty cunt in front of him.

Instead of admitting to the recollection, though, Zoro looked at her blankly. “Alice…” he said, as if mulling the name over. As if he needed to search long and hard to find any semblance of someone in Sanji’s past named Alice. “Hm,” he said at length, “no… I don’t really remember having heard about someone by that name. Have you ever mentioned an Alice, babe?”

Despite addressing him, Zoro didn’t dare look at Sanji’s face. Even just the hint of doubt or disbelief or anger from Sanji might be enough to shake Zoro off his game and have this all come crashing down more humiliating than when they’d started.

He looked at Alice, instead, who looked at him like he’d grown a second head. The very concept that Sanji might not have cried his heart out about her every day since their parting was clearly a new one. It made Zoro so happy to have so suddenly shut her down with just a few words.

“Hold on! W-we’ve met before!” Alice protested, apparently recognizing him now. Zoro noted that she didn’t wait for Sanji to confirm or deny if he’d ever deigned to mention her once their relationship had ended. Zoro wondered if she was scared to know. Hearing something like that from the man himself might just shake her precious little ego. Zoro would love to see that happen.

“Oh, we have?” Zoro asked mildly, showing a clear disinterest in whether they had or not. He pretended to mull the concept over in his head just as he had her name. He certainly remembered the party Sanji had brought her to. He remembered that it had sucked because her laugh was too annoying to ignore even from across the room and cross-eyed drunk. Finally, he shrugged simply, clearly not caring one way or another. “Guess it just wasn’t very memorable.”

At that Alice looked absolutely stricken, an arrow piercing directly into her pride. Bullseye, Zoro thought to himself, narrowly remembering to keep his face schooled. He so badly wanted to give her the same wolfish grin he reserved for his enemies at tournaments, but his own internal satisfaction would have to suffice.

In his peripheral, Zoro saw Sanji take a long drag off his cigarette. Hopefully that meant he was willing to quietly play along. Possibly it meant he thought Zoro had genuinely forgotten about her and that he was about to get pummeled into a paste in about five seconds.

“S-So then, you two? You’re together then?” Alice asked, clearly affronted and looking for something to refill her sails. Zoro wondered if she was beginning to consider him her replacement. He wondered how he measured up.

Suddenly, though, she seemed then to get herself a second wind, puffing herself up in her coat. Zoro refrained from frowning, if just barely. And here he’d been winning.

“It’s so adorable to see new couples, isn’t it Darek, sweetie?” she said sweetly, grabbing on to her boy’s sleeve. The boy in question nodded absentmindedly, eyes locked on where Zoro was oh-so-incidentally toying at the waistband of his boxers with his thumb. A charming one, wasn’t he? “We’ve been together for four months now. It’s just so hard to find the one you’re truly meant to be with, but so rewarding to know they’re all yours. How long has your cute little thing been going on for?”

So she was considering him to be her replacement. Moreover, it seemed clear that if that were the case, he’d be the winner. This was her alternative hypothesis, the situation that would set the world just a little bit more right than it was right then. If their relationship was new she could brush it all off as certain to be doomed in a week or two, as so many new relationship were. Well, he’d better set her little worries to rest, now shouldn’t he?

“This little love bug,” Zoro said, pressing a sweet kiss to Sanji’s cheek, forcibly holding the other’s shoulder’s down when they jumped, “Has been all mine since August.” Would he most likely be paying for “love bug” with his very life later? Yes, yes he would. But it was so, so very worth it to see Alice’s face as she did the math. Zoro distinctly recalled The Wailing Remembrance of Alice having begun in that hot and muggy summer month. Logically, then, that made Zoro one hell of a rebound, and one that stuck quite nicely, too.

Alice was clearly taken aback, her refilled sails deflating again catastrophically. The cutesie pda, Zoro’s complete disinterest in with her, and the dawning evidence that maybe Sanji hadn’t been so hopelessly lost without her was doing exactly the job Zoro had hoped it would.

“B-but I thought you two hated each other!” She cried, looking between the two and sounding a bit desperate, “That you couldn’t stand in the same room without arguing!”

She, of course, had seen firsthand at the party the animosity between the two. She also had probably had to sit through at least a couple sessions of Sanji bitching about whatever thing Zoro had done to purposefully annoy him. Well, Zoro figured, you know what they say: when in doubt, gaslight, gatekeep, girlboss.

“Oh?” Zoro said, cocking his head to the side, “Why do you say that?” He said it as if she was insane, as if she hadn’t seen their fights herself, as if they weren’t literally known for their arguments with each other. He said it like it was completely and entirely natural for them to be like this now. It helped that Sanji hadn’t moved an inch, hadn’t given a single physical sign that this wasn’t exactly what they usually did. He made it seem like he was perfectly comfortable being held close to Zoro’s chest. That it was where he belonged.

They had even, in fact, gone a whole five minutes without arguing.

Alice’s mouth opened and closed for a minute, her mind clearly trying to calculate and recalculate this encounter, but the numbers just didn’t seem to be adding up in her favor. Zoro almost pitied her, except that she had very much started it and brought all this upon herself.

Finally, she looked to her boy as if for some sort of support. All she found was that his attention was firmly on Zoro’s chest, eating up the eye candy readily. He even went as far as to lick his lips.

“Darek!” Alice scolded under her breath, scandalized, slapping his chest for attention.

“Ow!” Darek said, shocked out of whatever daydream he’d been having.

Zoro finally let himself give a toothy smile. He considered his damage officially done. Alice had clearly been knocked down a peg or two, and her little walking-wallet of a boyfriend had been reduced from oh-so successful businessman to just another ogler looking for the next pretty thing. This was a resounding victory.

Now for a victorious escape out of this situation as fast as possible.

“Come on, babe,” Zoro said, turning his head to nuzzle into Sanji’s hair. How did he always forget just how soft those golden strands were? “I’ve made you wait long enough. I owe you a date.”

Zoro smiled into the last sentence, making it sound like their “date” was the only thing on his mind. Like he’d been thinking all week long about getting to see the other, the thought being his lone reason to keep going day after day. Which couldn’t be farther from the truth, obviously. There had been absolutely zero percent of him that had put any emphasis on this little outing even once this past week. He hadn’t done laundry for the express purpose of having something he liked to wear, he hadn’t trimmed up his sideburns and played with different hair products all week, and he definitely was not currently wearing cologne. The smile was simply an affectation of the truth, just for the sake of the ruse. That’s it.

Before anyone had time to say anything more, Zoro gently ushered Sanji to turn away from the other couple. To his relief, Sanji went willingly.

“W-wha-hey! Wait a minute!” Alice blustered, stomping a foot.

“It was nice meeting you,” Zoro said, not even looking back at her, just waving his free hand slightly.

“I told you, we already met!” she fumed, but Zoro paid it absolutely no mind. He grinned like an absolute shark, amazed he was getting away with this.

“Wait!” She yelled again.

Then, she played dirty.

“Sanji,” she said, a whimper in her voice.

Sanji stopped dead in his tracks. Zoro did too, not wanting to have to actually drag the other. He closed his eyes and cursed in his head. They had been so close.

Sanji took a long drag off his cigarette. As he sucked in, the moment seemed to stretch out, becoming longer than it was before. Finally, he blew a long exhale, smoke leaving his mouth fluidly. He tapped the ash off the end of his cigarette, dropped it to the pavement, and ground it out with his toe.

Zoro didn’t look at his face. He didn’t want to see even an ounce of hurt from such a stupid, shallow, nobody of a girl. It was so ridiculous for someone like that to make someone like Sanji feel anything at all, let alone pain. It made bile rise in Zoro’s throat and blood rush in his ears, but he kept his cool. He’d tried his rescue strategy. This was now nothing but Sanji’s fight.

Sanji turned his head over their shoulders. Zoro expected whimpering or pitiful noises, or maybe simply his standard gushing. Assurances that Alice still lived in his heart, that she always would. He’d tell her that she was the most beautiful girl in the world, that nobody could compare, that he would never want anyone else more than he wanted her. Zoro felt an unusual nausea in his gut.

“It was good to see you, Alice!” Sanji called brightly, his tone clear of any whining or gooeyness, much to Zoro’s surprise. No hurt? No presentation of wounds? No flattery? No begging?

“I’m glad you’re doing well.” Zoro was nearly in shock; Sanji sounded completely genuine. Did he… get over her? Just now? In this moment?

He hazarded a look at Sanji’s face and found a brilliantly beaming smile that reached his clear blue eyes. It was a smile that could put a thousand suns to shame, a smile that could launch a thousand ships, a smile worth the world over in gold and then some. Somehow, Sanji was really, truly happy.

Something inside Zoro absolutely melted and something else bloomed warm in his chest.

Before Zoro could even start to think about processing that, Sanji turned to him, and he was simply lost. For a brief second that stretched into minutes, days, years even, nothing else existed but him and Sanji and Sanji’s blue eyes shining back at him. He wanted nothing more than to kiss the beautiful man in front of him.

Then Sanji spoke, and Zoro forced himself out of that moment. Back to reality. Again, when had he left? He couldn’t recall.

“Come on, then, dearest,” Sanji jeered, his eyes now gleaming mischievously and smile saccharine sweet as he prodded. Zoro cognitively knew that he was always annoyed by that expression yet couldn’t seem to summon up the actual feeling of being annoyed. “I believe you promised me shopping?” Zoro felt a hand slip into the far back pocket of his jeans.

Now they really did look like a disgustingly lovey-dovey honeymoon-stage couple out for a date. Sanji gave his ass a teasing squeeze, snickering as Zoro felt his whole face grow red hot. Who had initiated the touching again? It couldn’t possibly have been him. This was far too intimate for him to have started, surely.

Zoro gulped heavily and remembered that he had a part to play here. He once again ushered them forward down the street. The last thing he heard from the girl – her name already returning to a blank spot in Zoro’s mind – was her yelling at her boyfriend to get his jaw off the ground and stop drooling already.

Zoro let Sanji lead them down a couple blocks, dazed and distracted. During the whole encounter he’d kept himself perfectly calm, but now that it was over his heart was beating hard in his chest. He replayed the whole scene in his head, impossibly surprised that it actually worked. How in the hell had it actually worked? How had they passed so easily for an actual couple?

Zoro was still wondering at how miraculous their success was when Sanji broke his concentration.

“Hey, Zoro,” Sanji said, casually as can be, leading them down some sort of alley between buildings.

“Yeah?” Zoro grunted, freshly shaken from his thoughts.

“Could you do me a favor?”

“What do you want, shit cook?”

“Well, would you mind ever so terribly-“ Suddenly, a foot came flying at his face and Zoro was too startled to block it in time, “-GETTING YOUR BIG, DUMB GORILLA HANDS OFF OF ME!”

Zoro went flying into the wall of the alley, back hitting with a sharp snap of pain. He was fine, though, nothing he couldn’t brush off.

“What the hell was that for?” Zoro scowled. He peaked at the wall behind him; the brick was only cracked a little, just barely resembling the outline of a person. Nothing identifying, so it was fine.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” Sanji sneered, adjusting the collar of his button-up and dusting off his pants as if the mere presence of Zoro in his bubble was sullying.

“Heh, I can think of a few times you’ve liked me touching you just fine,” Zoro retorted, wiggling his brows suggestively.

“You’re such a pervert,” Sanji said with disgust.

“You’re one to talk, love cook, swooning after a girl with her boyfriend literally right next to her.” Zoro swiped his thumb under his nose, checking for blood and finding none. Nothing seemed broken, that was good.

“Hey!” Sanji protested, looking angry. Had Zoro gone to far with bringing it up already? He knew the situation wasn’t exactly typical. Still, the whole thing still kind of pissed him off, so why shouldn’t he talk about it? “I didn’t ask for your help back there!”

“Oh?” Zoro asked, a smirk coming to his face, “So you admit that what I did was helpful?”

Sanji’s face grew red, frustration and agitation clear. “Oh, go die in a hole, you moron.”

“Whatever,” Zoro shrugged, putting his hands in his pockets, and leaning against the cracked brick coolly, “I was just pissed off, that’s all.”

“You?” Sanji asked condescendingly, “What the hell did you have to be pissed off about?”

“Don’t like that girl, is all,” Zoro answered plainly, closing his eyes as he relaxed, his heart rate finally dropping back to normal after all the excitement. The physical distance from Sanji and the sting of pain had broken his strange headspace. He was feeling like his usual self again, now. No weird, overly emotional thoughts swirling around. “Didn’t like her when you talked about her, didn’t like her when you brought her around, and I didn’t like her when I saw her just now, either.”

Zoro could feel Sanji study him for a moment, as if trying to decide if he bought that. “And what exactly has she done to you to make you hate her so much?”

Zoro huffed, rather done with the interrogation despite it hardly having begun. “I just can’t stand her attitude, that’s all. She’s so holier-than-thou, and then goes around parading herself like she’s the best thing since sliced bread.” The nerve of that girl, honestly. Zoro worked up a little mucus in his mouth and spit at the ground. “She thinks she can just waltz around hurting people to make herself feel better. Pisses me off.”

“Hey, you can’t say that about a beautiful lady!”

“Oh, piss off,” Zoro said, rolling his eyes, “First of all as far as I could tell she wasn’t even that good looking, average at best.” He will fully admit to his radar being finely attuned to men only, though, so maybe he’s wrong, but she really didn’t seem like anything special to him. “And secondly you never would have taken that kind of crap from a guy. You would have kicked him to the moon and back the second he tried that shit. But with her, and every other woman ever, you let her walk all over you. Not exactly a good idea when the girl’s a grade-A bitch.”

They stood there in that alley for a long moment, Sanji just watching Zoro and Zoro just watching him back. They both knew he was right.

“Tch,” Sanji spat at length, “I was raised a ladies’ man, and that’s just how it is.” Zoro knew that, too. This wouldn’t change anything. He doesn’t know how it happened, but somehow that behavior just got hard coded into Sanji. It was fine except that it was annoying and opened him up so easily to those who would misuse his kindness. There weren’t many of Sanji’s exes that Zoro didn’t outright hate, now that he thought about it, and certainly none that he properly liked. Maybe that was why.

“And anyway,” Sanji cut in, breaking Zoro’s wandering thoughts, “Why the hell do you care how I’m treated anyway?”

What? Did he say that? No way he’d said that. “I don’t!” He didn’t! Zoro felt his face grow hot, which didn’t make any sense. This was stupid. “I-It’s just the principal of the matter, is all!”

“Oh really?” Sanji asked, clearly unconvinced.

“Shut the hell up, bastard,” Zoro snapped, now really well and truly done with this whole affair. He took a breath, cooling himself down. Sanji always got him so worked up it was stupid. “Whatever, believe whatever the hell you want, I already told you the truth. She was a cunt and that’s all there is to it.”

The words clearly ticked Sanji off, but that was good, got him distracted from whatever bullshit he was spewing about Zoro caring about him or something. Idiot.

“You know, you could really do with learning some good manners towards ladies.” Sanji scowled.

“Yeah, yeah,” Zoro said, waving off the idea for the billionth time. “Last time I treated a girl any differently she caved my head in with a stick. Won’t be making that mistake twice.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Sanji asked, making a dumb face as if Zoro had said some sort of convoluted metaphor.

“Forget about it,” Zoro dismissed, having not intended to bring Kuina into this. He shoved off the wall and decided it was time to get out of this alley and back to what they came here for.

“Whatever,” Sanji said, rolling his eyes, apparently too done with Zoro to bother to pry.

Zoro walked until he was passing Sanji by, heading toward the mouth of the alley. Sanji stood silently, looking like he was thinking about something.

Just as he passed, Sanji said something quietly, “She really was a bit mean, wasn’t she?”

Zoro stopped there, just in front of the other. He didn’t get it. He didn’t know why Sanji was like this. Why was it so impossibly hard for him to admit when a woman was bad to him? So inconceivable to fight back? It made Zoro so impossibly upset sometimes. But here he was with this one little admittance. This one time this one woman was a bit mean to him. Zoro shouldn’t shoot this down. He couldn’t bring himself to if he wanted.

“Yeah,” Zoro huffed, a bit of a smile playing on his lips with the magnitude of the understatement. “And stupid too,” he added.

“Stupid?” Sanji asked, hackles raised all over again, “What the hell do you mean by that?”

“Sheesh, isn’t it obvious?” Zoro asked, huffing a short laugh through his nose, “First she dates you, which already brands her as an idiot –“

“Hey!”

“- And then she brings around that chump as if he’s supposed to somehow make you jealous. Seriously, as if he’d ever hold a candle to you.” What a joke.

Sanji didn’t say anything to that, and Zoro looked back curiously.

Sanji was just staring at him, eyes a little wide and face dusted pink. “Hah?” Zoro questioned, one eyebrow quirked. “What, did I say something wrong?”

Sanji looked at him for a moment longer, the silence stretching between them yet carrying surprisingly little tension. Finally, Sanji seemed to shake himself out of it. “It’s nothing, moss-for-brains. And get out of my way,” he said, shoving Zoro by the face.

“Hey! Cut it out!” Zoro yelled, shoving Sanji’s hand off his face.

“Ah, deal with it, grass-head,” Sanji said, pulling out a cigarette and his lighter, “Let’s find whatever the hell kind of present Luffy would want already.”

Zoro grumbled but followed along, ready to get this errand over with and the weird events of ten minutes ago behind him. This event would be receiving absolutely no post-facto analysis. There wasn’t a single thought, feeling, or action that needed a second look at or processing time to rectify with his current world view, and he was eager to put it all out of his head.

“And hey,” Sanji said. Zoro sighed inward, sure this was going to be something weird about the thing that just happened, “Thanks.”

Yup. Weird. Weird, weird, weird. It was so weird for Sanji to thank him, he almost hated it. He did hate it. He absolutely definitely hated it. That must be what the rosy feeling in his chest was: hate for how weird it was.

“Yeah, well, you know,” Zoro said, shrugging the whole ordeal off as they did with almost everything that’s happened between them, “Don’t mention it.”

This, as so much else, would be their little secret.

A comfortable silence rested between them as they each took a moment to breathe.

“By the way, are you wearing cologne?”

“IN YOUR DREAMS!”

#one piece #zosan #sanzo #zoro/sanji #sanji/zoro #zoroxsanji #sanjixzoro #fake dating #my writing #fanfiction

[slashingdisneypasta]

Human!Freddy Krueger x Fem!Reader || Oneshot

Title: What The Fuck Now, Freddy!?

Notes:

This is not inherently romantic, at all. Or sexual. Just... Freddy being a bastard, and you are caught in the crosshairs- and are forever linked with him because of it.

I've been listening to Lizzie, a lot lately- and this is inspired by 'What The Fuck Now, Lizzie!?'

Also- I'm thinking this will have a part 2. Due to the ending not being quite enough. Maybe a part for the court proceedings!

Plot: Many will know the story of that terrible day Krueger essentially snapped- killing his wife, Loretta Krueger. She saw the basement, they say, and he didn't like that. Their daughter saw the whole thing and suffered a traumatic response to seeing the sight of her mother, strangled to death, by her father- and forgot the whole thing.

But if she were to remember something, one day.

She may remember something no one knows about that day, aside from Freddy himself.

She may remember, that someone else was there.

She may remember you.

//

Alternatively- you're being blackmailed by Freddy who found out you, another supposedly Plain Jane in Loretta's 'mothers club', is cheating on your husband and calls you up to help deal with the mess he made. Because who else did he have?

Warnings: Okay lemme see, its basically a potluck of triggers. Hm. Murder, swearing, cheating (You, on your husband. Not with Freddy), getting rid of a body, a child gets traumatised (Obviously, Kathy/Maggie), Freddy himself, mention of the basement and all that entails, reader with a very questionable moral compass. Look, I think if you can watch Freddy's Dead, you're good here.

I'm just heading out the door, to go grocery shopping - or, at least, that's the story I tell my husband. When really I don't do the grocery shop until the day after tomorrow. He never notices... - when the phone rings. By very nearly tripping over my feet in my endeavour to catch it before the ringing stops, I manage pick up the phone with very little injury besides an achy, slightly twisted ankle. "Hi! Hi, sorry, I'm here. Hello?"

Pouting, I sit down at the kitchen table; Rubbing my poor ankle to sooth the pain, which would soon diminish anyway. Still- I'm sorry, ankle. I'll try to chill.

When the voice on the other end reveals who it is who's called the house, I lose all need to be pleasant. Damn. I really need to memorise this goddamn number... so I can not answer it. "Whatcha wearin'?"

"Thank god Harrison didn't answer this, you fuck." I deeply roll my eyes. Thank god Har's out. No, this is not my mister, not the man I was going to meet just now- but its bad, enough. In an entirely different way. Its stupid, blackmailing, son of a... hundred maniacs. "What do you want?"

"What a way to answer the phone, Y/N. Gee, seems like every time I we talk, I'm learning how you really aren't in the right place, are you? Cheating on your poor husband, swearing... These aren't really signs of the perfect suburban house wife, is it?" Gritting my teeth, I keep from lashing out. I've learned, if you stay real quiet, Freddy wont have anything to pull from and will get bored quick. "Why so silent, hm?"

"... " Oh, fuck me. I cant help it. "Wondering where you get off judging me on being 'suburban', actually."

"Anywhere I like, thanks."

Oh... oh. Gross?

He doesn't see the disgust tearing my face into two perfect halves right now, but my silence must be enough as he laughs. The sound is directly into the phone, and harsh on my poor eardrums. Ugh... "Oh for gods sake... What are we? Fourteen years old?? Come on- why'd you call?"

"Uhhhh... " Quickly, midway through that drawn out 'um' sound, Freddy's voice transitions, and gets a whole lot darker. Something deep in his chest dislodging, to make it so. Perhaps, his heart. "Well... you might wanna come and see for yourself."

"Uh, I don't think so. I have somewhere to be right now- "

"Oh well you don't, anymore." And its clear what he isn't saying- or else I'll tell Harrison about Carter and set your life on fire. "Tell your boy toy you're takin' a reign check for the day. I think you'll last. In fact... after you come over here, you might be out of the game for a couple a hours at least- maybe days."

Hold on, hold on Freddy what the fuck- "What!?"

"... Believe it or not, I didn't actually mean for that one."

Moron.

~

Nevertheless, no matter how just... off setting, Freddy is, I had to when he asked. I had to jump when he said so.

Because if not, then he would tear my life apart.

So here I am, about to knock on that big red door he lives behind, wondering what I'm walking into. Where's Loretta? Where's Kathy? How long will the visit be? I told Carter I'd be an hour or two late- any longer and I wont see him at all today. Which would absolutely suck.

Just after my knuckles come down on the wood the first time, a hand comes down on my shoulder and I immediately jump out of my skin... then slowly look around.

There's Freddy, a cheeky grin on his face. It does nothing to set my nerves at ease. "Ugh... Why are you out here?"

"We're going to the backyard. Lets go." Taking me by the shoulders, he marches me around the side of the house, instead of through it for some reason, and into the familiar backyard. I've been here numerous times, as Loretta likes to hold our club meetings here - Barbecue's, tea's... that sort of thing. Just to let the kids play together and so the adults can enjoy some adult conversation. Its a nice yard... but depending on what her horrid husband is about to show me, it may not be considered as such anymore... - , but I'm now starting to develop a sick feeling in my stomach.

Honestly- I don't know much about Freddy at all. Yes, I went to school with him, but that doesn't mean much when he was a freaky loner kid the whole time. I remember he killed the class hamster once- that's about the only splash he ever made in the news pool; But it definitely stuck.

Yes, Loretta cleaned up his image a fair bit since getting married, but now he's blackmailing me, and as far as I know I'm now alone with him.

Suspicious of him suddenly, I slip out of his grip with a dirty look flashed his way. Don't touch me.

He just rolls his eyes, leading me around some hedges.

And then everything stops.

Him, me, the air; The air around me, the breeze, the breath in my throat.

There lays Loretta, on the ground. If I was really really naïve, I could imagine she were sleeping... or passed out, at least, due to the way she's sprawled out. No one would lay down like that willingly.

But... her eyes are open.

For a moment I'm tempted to kneel down; Take a closer look. Find out how, myself. Is she bleeding anywhere that I cant see now? Are her lips turning blue? If I moved some short red hair out of the way- would their be marks on her neck yet?

But then I come to my senses...

And freak. The fuck. O u t.

"What, the fuck, did you do!?" I whip around, looking at Freddy now which entirely new eyes. I mean, before I sure wasn't fond- but now I'm filled with something new, looking at him. Something a lot worse, something that makes me want to run. Run, and hide, and stay there.

And all these, even though he hasn't really changed. He still wears a mischievous smirk, stony blue eyes eating up my reactions... like always. But this time its just so so much worse. "Made some dead weight- now you're gonna help me get rid of it. So!" Finally, though its been only a matter of seconds, he turns his gaze off of me and I'm glad. That gaze is far too heavy. "Ideas?"

Only for a moment am I lost for words, struggling to push anything out. "I... I'm sorry??"

His gaze returns to mine, but this time my eyes are hard as his are dark. "Help. Me. Get rid of her. Fucking. Body. Or do you want your dirty laundry aired for the whole community to hear?"

Before I can help myself, I let out a sharp laugh, only succeeding in making Freddy's scowl deeper. "Freddy- this secret's a lot bigger, then mine. Sure, I might get divorced- but you're going to prison!" Does he get that? He's g o i n g to j a i l. Crossing my arms, I try to avoid looking at my ex-friend's body. I cant. "I'm sure as hell not gonna be in there with you, for being an accomplice."

I really cant look at her... I can only focus on Freddy. And that takes a lot of energy- its taking everything in me, in fact. Everything I have. But I have to. If its him or her, there's no choice.

But... then a creepy smile spreads across his face- a vast polarity to the frustrated glower of before. It makes my blood run cold.

"Ohhhh..." He looks almost ferocious, even in his composed state. Like a monster. Like any moment a fanged, inhuman creature is going to burst out of him and I'm going to wake up, and this will have been a nightmare. A horrible nightmare. The kind where that creature haunts me for a long time, after its over. After this over.

He's going to haunt me.

"You must think this is my first time... " My heart turns to ice, mouth hanging a little open... what the fuck have I found myself a part of!? Suddenly all the children's disappearances on the news lately come to the forefront of my brain... "Sweetheart, give a man his dues. I'm a hard working kinda guy... " I watch his gaze flicker to a door - the back door? No... The basement door, - and when a filthy smirk pulls at his mouth, my heart flies up into my throat. God, it makes me feel sick. I want to be violently ill. "My first was my adoptive Dad... pretty sick, huh?"

The fact that he didn't say anything about the basement, makes my imagination go wild. I swallow it down, though.

I just need to get out of here, and never think about this again.

And to do that I need to help Freddy get rid of this goddamn body- and... probably... testify at court... As the panic starts to finally rise up in my, right up to fill my throat, I immediately take in a deep breath and slowly let it out. "Okay... " No time to freak out. Now's the time for action.

Gaze flickering to Loretta again, I try to acclimatise to the sight. I think its a lost cause, though. "How did you get rid of him? Your Dad?"

"No, that's not gonna work. He was a drunk dead beat, and I just had to tell the police some guy's he owed money to came over to the house." Freddy grins happily at the memory, but then just as quickly, scowls at his poor deceased wife's body- that certainly cant fight back. I just tack this onto the long list of reasons I hate him. "Lore's such a goddamn goody goody- we cant do the same thing. You don't think I woulda thought of that??"

"Hey." I snap, hands braced on my hips as I flash a glare his way. "This is not the time to get defensive!"

"Whatever... "

Then- suddenly, something occurs to me. Confused, I look around; A deeply horrified feeling disturbing my stomach. "Hold on... Where's your daughter?" Seeing no sign of her anywhere, I definitely start to panic again- especially when I look to Freddy and just see a pert look in his eyes as he looks back at me, a smile that strikes something horrid inside me. My eyes narrow. "You sick fuck- where the fuck is she!??"

"Under the bed."

"What the fuck does that mean!?" I exclaim, frustrated and freaking out. He did not- he did not! Killing your spouse is one thing, but the kid?? Your own kid??

I don't wait around for him to be cryptic some more, and rush right into the house to look for her. Under the bed, under the bed, under the fucking bed...? Which fucking bed!? Forcing ferocity out of my voice, I carefully call out to Kathy. Hoping to god she answers. I try to sound normal. Maybe a little bit cheerful; Excited.

But my voice wobbles.

"Kathy?? Sweetheart, its Y/N! Are you hiding? I have something for you... " ?? You have something for her, Y/N?? God... now you have to figure out some kind of treat.

You know what? Whatever. We'll figure that out later.

Lets just hope we aren't searching for a corpse. I'd definitely be sick, seeing a child... the way Loretta is...

Shaking my head and clenching my fists, I try to focus on Kathy.

I check under the bed in the guest room because it comes into view first and she isn't there, then her bedroom and she isn't there either... and get a sick feeling as soon as I enter the last bedroom. Freddy's and Loretta's.

God, I've never been in here before but its like a museum peace now. A horrible one. Like if you would walk into the Titanic... or the Borden house.

"Kathy? You in here?" Flicking on the light I kneel down on the ground, and check under the bed.

And something immediately crashes over me, as the sight of her covering her eyes down there. It isn't exactly relief, because this whole situation is still phenomenally fucked up for her, but I am selfishly glad to not have to see her body... crumpled, just like her mother.

"Hey sweetheart," My voice quivers slightly now, but I quickly swallow. No. No. Now, you must be strong Y/N. "Its just me. Your Daddy was looking for you, and couldn't find you! It got him worried!"

"I... I don't wanna see Daddy. He hurt Mommy." Kathy doesn't remove her hands from her face, and stays firmly by the wall- too far away for anyone to grab. My heart sinks.

Slowly straightening up again, I try to take that piece of information in. Turning to the doorway, I see Freddy there. he must have followed me. I didn't even notice. Slowly, and quietly ferociously, I say; "She saw?!"

He has the good sense to look embarrassed, even if it is just to make fun of me. "It was spur of the moment... " He shrugs. "I didn't have time to get a babysitter!"

What a fucking excuse. For gods sake.

I'm definitely dealing with a psycho- if that was even a question before now.

Swiftly, I look down under the bed again, because I'm afraid that if I continue to engage with him- I'll scream, and I'll lose my breath, and I'll scare Kathy even more. She's at the forefront of my mind; That's all I can think about.

But what to do with her after I get her out from under this bed, I don't know. I cant give her back to her father... but I cant hand her over to the police either because that would involve telling them about Loretta, and... Freddy will definitely kill me, for that.

This is a nightmare of a situation.

I'm just opening my mouth to say something - what, I don't know yet, - when she speaks, instead. "Is he there?"

"... Yes." I wont lie to her; That would be treating her with not nearly as much respect as she deserves.

When she takes a deep breath and rubs her eyes, as if just trying to keep herself together, my heart clenches. God... and to think I might not have picks up Freddy's call today. I would have been leaving her with this. For the first time today, I'm morbidly glad I came.

She speaks in that loud, hissy way that kids think is a whisper. "Can he... can you please make him go away?"

Immediately I straighten back up and look to Freddy again, my eyebrows raised halfway up my forehead. Like well? "Get out."

"I don't think you're in a position to make demands here, bi- "

"Do you want Kathy to live down there now!??" I snap, trying not to be scared. Not really feeling scared, actually. Just happy to have a reason to tell him to get the hell away from me.

A deep frown creases his mouth, deeply unhappy about the situation, but steps back. I only hear him step out of the way of the door, but its good enough. Quickly, I get up and close the door - fighting with myself not to slam it, - and lock it.

Then I return to the floor, and see this time Kathy has uncovered her eyes. She looks so small, smaller then she actually is, and she looks like she's shaking. Little red bows and piggy tails in her hair are messy from crawling under the bed. "He's gone, sweetheart. And I locked the door."

She just nods, so I take the silence as a chance to offer my hand to her. "Take my hand, sweetie? Come on out from under the bed. Its cold down there, and no one wants you getting sick." I need to upkeep the family friend bit, I need to sound caring and collected. I need her to trust me.

Her big eyes, not Loretta's colour or Freddy's, look nervous as hell. And she shakes her head.

Taking a deep breath, and I conjure all the sincerity as I can. And mean it. My eyes soften and I try really hard, to resent myself as someone trustworthy- which is hard, seeing as I've never really been that. I mean, I'm cheating on my husband. I told Carter today the same lie I told Harrison when i knew I was going to be late. The only person I think who knows the truth behind all my lies is Freddy. That says something about a person, that the only person who knows them is a psychopath.

But I want to, I need to, be good for this little girl. And there's no time for me turn my life around so it has to start with this. How fucked is that?

"... I promise, I'll take care of you. He wont hurt you."

After a few whole minutes, in which I stay silent because yes she's a child, but she's still thinking, she crawls over and takes my hand, letting me lead her out. Crawling into my lap as I cross my legs under her, she buries her face in my shirt- hiding. "You promise?"

Taking a deep breath, because I've really done it now, I offer my pinky for her to see if she turned her head. I know Freddy's listening to all of this through the wall, but I try not to freak out. "Pinky swear?"

"Pinky swear." She peaks out from my shirt, and curls her little finger around mine. Okay... "Y/N... I'm scared."

"Yeah... Me too, sweetie."

What am I going to do?

#Freddy Krueger x Fem!Reader #Freddy Krueger x Reader #Slashers #Slashers x Reader #Fem Reader #Freddy Krueger #Loretta Krueger #Katherine Krueger #Kathrine Krueger #Maggie Burroughs #Oneshot #Freddy Krueger x Reader Oneshot

[omiscurls]

omi doesn’t like flowers

sakusa kiyoomi x gn!reader fluff

 cw: the reader has a little sibling, i hope nobody minds, there’s one line of very slightly implied nsfw, you won’t even notice

meant for kiyoomi’s birthday! happy b-day to my favorite boy <3 

one of the first things you’ve learnt about your boyfriend, even before your relationship started, is that he rarely shared personal information with anyone. he’d go as far as put up a fake birthday on his social media to avoid the awkward wishes and tons of yet another gifts from fans he so didn’t like going through. apart from that, there was a lot of weird things going on with birthdays, in his opinion: for instance people automatically thinking about zodiac sign or assuming other things, insisting to have a party, (a surprise one was his biggest nightmare) and a whole lot of other stuff he found appalling.

so it was just simply easier to say his birthday is “mid november” and get on with his life as if he didn’t just straight up lie. and truth be told, many times had you heard that “oh, in summer” or “right before christmas” before you got to know the truth. it wasn’t that easy on its own, but ever since his first little white lie, you knew he wasn’t true with you, and kept insisting, until he finally pulled you to the side and told you his real date of birth, the one only komori, atsumu, and, as he used to say, “unfortunately” his family knew.

march 20th was the date, and since you wanted to tease him, a grin appeared on your face before you mumbled “so a pisces, huh?” and earned a glare so cold and deadly, you visibly shivered before apologizing.

the next thing you learned about him and his birthday, was that he was picky about gifts. which went well with that “i’m an old fashioned gentleman” facade, because he could just say “oh, you don’t have to buy me anything. your company will be enough” with a slight smile he’d practice for years, and people thought he was just being humble and polite. spoiler alert: he wasn’t. he just didn’t want to deal with his own pickiness, and explaining to people what precisely would he like to get was too much trouble, and took away the magic of it even for someone as blunt as kiyoomi sakusa.

it’s not like birthdays were such a big deal for him, anyway, he didn’t need any gifts or parties to celebrate the fact that he just got one year older. what was so fun about that? but like the pain in the arse you were, you kept asking him what he wanted for the occassion way before he asked you out, and he hated it, but not more than he hated the way his heart jumped at the possibility of getting something you spent your time on. 

the first year of your friendship, you got to know the basic thing: omi doesn’t like gifts. gifts make him uncomfortable, he didn’t know what to say, how to act, what to do with it... does he open it right then and there, or wait, but why would he immediately thank someone if he doesn’t even open it? schroedinger’s cat: if he doesn’t open it, it might as well be thin air inside the box.

it was confusing, and weird. you also learnt that it was all caused by the fact that no one was in the house to celebrate young omi’s birthday back in his childhood days, since his parents were working and his siblings long away in college, so he just assumed it was a holiday to be overlooked and not dwelled too much on, and got so used to it, that now it bothered him to be in the center of attention for once. 

the third thing you learnt that year: it was almost impossible to find him a good enough gift, at least from your perspective. you spent literal hours at the store, looking at the different things he might’ve wanted, but nothing caught your eye. you called all his friends, yet he hadn’t mentioned the thing he’d like to anyone, not even komori. so you decided you’d go with instinct and remembered one cold morning when he showed up to practice grumpier than usual, and when he was asked what’s wrong, he answered:

“i woke up late and didn’t have time to make coffee”, half mumbling, half actually speaking, eyes too tired to be annoyed, legs slowly sweeping one before another as if he was forced to come here. And that’s where you got your idea. 

His first birthday with you, being his 21st, had started terribly, because it was wishes from his family. He’d told you multiple times he’d rather have them forget that send those copied off the internet lines that mean less than a “go fuck yourself” 

later on atsumu insisted or telling everyone and it took poor omi more than twenty minutes to convince him not to, and as both the setter and the spiker weren’t in their top moods nor form, MSBY lost a match they had that day. so all he wanted to do march 20th 2017 when he came home was to lay flat on his couch and play with his dog’s fur while watching a crappy TV show. he most definitely didn’t expect you sitting in front of his apartment’s door, tired, almost asleep. 

he sighed, approching you and slightly nudging your foot with his, making you shake your head and look up. 

“you’re back!” you said with a smile, and he raised an eyebrow. 

“and you look like a homeless person” he responded upsentmindedly, avoiding you to reach the door lock. only after you got up did he see a small package you held behind your back. “it’s not a right day to be celebrating me, y/n” he added, opening his apartment’s door and letting you in with a hand gesture. you went inside, not for the first time ever, but every time the feeling was the same, intimidating and cold. 

“why do you think that?” you said, taking off your shoes and putting them on a rack, and turning around to see him navigate you to the bathroom. you placed your bag and the gift on the floor before following his steps. 

“didn’t you see the match? i fucked up big time” he chuckled ironically, looking at himself in the mirror, and you could witness the disappointment and anger in his eyes. 

“so every time you guys win and you get the credit, you say that volleyball is a team sport, but if you loose, suddenly it’s your fault?” you smirked, but to your surprise he nodded. 

“precisely”. 

“well, regardless, it’s a minor set back. you’re still the best they make” you tried to cheer him up, but only received an eye roll in return. “aaaand, you’re a birthday boy today!”

“don’t remind me” he sighed, walking over to the kitchen to see what he can make for dinner for himself and his uninvited guest, meanwhile you grabbed your gift and walked up right behind him, tapping his shoulder lightly. 

“happy 21″ you whispered, a slight, soft smile on your lips, as you handed him the package. he looked at you with a tired look in his eyes. 

“you know i’m not the biggest fan of gifts” 

“just open it, grumpy face” you whined, and he gently took it from you, placing it on the counter and carefully unwraping it, to see a thermal mug. he sent you a questioning look, before you explained “you were complaining about not having enough time to drink coffee before leaving, right? well now you don’t have to drink it before leaving” 

there was silence for a long while before he looked up from the mug and gave you the softest smile you’ve ever seen. “that’s so thoughtful of you” he said, and laughed a tiny bit, probably to cover his emotion, which obviously didn’t work “thank you.”

omi likes thoughtful gestures. 

over the second year of your friendship, as he and his career gained more recognition from the public, he was “forced”, as he’d reffer to it, to share such a personal information that is his birthday date. the managers always claimed that it’s not a big deal, that it’s just gonna be added to the oficial page and his wikipedia, but judging from the amount of gifts atsumu, bokuto and hinata always received, he had his reason to doubt that. 

and as it turned out, he was right. 

because starting from march 10th, his personal mailbox as well as the oficial MSBY’s mailbox has been FLOODED with different things that he really had no energy to go over. and so, he invited one of his best friends to help. 

so it was late at night on march 19th, and you were both sitting on the floor of his apartment, a mess of ripped wrapping paper all around you, loads of different stuff laying on the table, as you still had a lot of things to open. 

“what even is the point in sending presents to someone you’ve never met? i mean less to them than their neigbour’s dog and yet i’m the one getting gifts? this is messed up” he kept on complaining, opening another package. 

“it’s called being famous, sakusa-kun. you mean very much to people you’ve never met, because your journey to where you are now inspires them to keep going on their path until they reach their dreams” you said with a smile, confident it’ll ease his worries, but it didn’t. 

“don’t know if i consider being in the Jackals my dream, though”

“you mean, you don’t think being a key player in a division one team is not a dream come true?” you asked, shocked. 

“no, no, of course i think it is, i’d never thought i’d reach this far, but, there’s more things to be done, it’s not like i’m an accomplished person just yet” 

that, you found interesting. 

“really? than what are your dreams, sakusa?” you asked in a low voice, eyes fixed on his face, as he focused on reading a letter in his hands. 

“national team” he murmured “MVP, a golden medal, a legacy that goes beyond just me” he opened up as if it was nothing, as if he was talking about his grocery list “but that all wouldn’t mean a thing if i were there alone, though. i’ve received plenty awards and mvp’s over the few years that i played, but i guess what would really matter, and make everything else worth remembering, would be... having someone be proud of me, i guess”

you felt your heart getting soft and fuzzy at the confession, wanting to respond, before he handed you the note he was silently reading. 

“this is a poem, y/n, a POEM! what the hell, i don’t even understand what’s going on there” he whined, throwing his head back to rest on the couch seat, as you giggled, reading the note. 

“it’s nice” you said in a high-pitched tone, pushing down a laugh. 

“it’s too... sophisticated” he uttered, looking at you, a tired look in his eyes. “that’s my mother’s thing, to be sophisticated, i like simpler wishes, they’re easier to believe” 

omi doesn’t like fancy words.

you nodded, but before you could say anything, your phone rang, and both of you looked at the screen. the hour on display marked midnight, and as the alarm ranged, the words “omi’s b-day!!!” appeared on the screen. he smiled subconsciously, noticing how you always address him as “sakusa” or “sakusa-kun” but the notif in your phone stated “omi”. 

“looks like it’s the 20th already, birthday boy” you grinned, turning off the alarm. 

“don’t call me that, what am i, six or something?” 

you decided to ignore the comment, and smiled at him warmly before speaking, almost under your own breath:

“happy 22, sakusa. i wish you only to be here to hear me say happy 23 next year. and say so with pride.”

his eyes appeared foggy and glossy, but it was probably fault of poor lighting and tiredness. 

“why stop at 23?” he asked, before standing up, and offering you his hand to pick you up, too. 

omi likes very real wishes. 

over the third year of your friendship you became very close. ever since that night on his living room floor, both of you couldn’t wrap your minds about anything other than each other. neither of you oblivious idiots found out what it was about, but day after day and month after month it was harder and harder to spend time apart. 

before he could notice, sakusa always tried to find you in the crowd before serving, and that’s how he always used up most of his time. once, he even heard ushijima complain “how much longer are you going to take? be a man and beat me without your good luck charm!” 

his good luck charm, huh?

you kinda liked the sound of that. 

you also found yourself texting him every random thought that came to your head, sending pictures of everything, becasue you wanted to share as much of your life as possible, meeting up whenever you could and facetiming whenever you couldn’t. 

it all started to go downhill when atsumu, bokuto and hinata started noticing. noticing the way he’d smile at his phone, the way he’d wink, smile, tease, joke, speak, even the way his eyes wondered when left unfocused, and a dreamy look covered his vision. 

and they started to tease, and joke, and make his life all more difficult, just because “omi has a crush!”

because he didn’t. right? he didn’t have a crush on you, for sure, and it only annoyed him, how childish they were about it, how insufferable. they got on his nerves so bad that he stopped responding to all the messages, stopped smiling, joking around, and all, just to prove his point, 

his point he knew was no longer standing. 

and so atsumu would ask, after one of their practices, “hey omi, is your lucky charm picking you up? some birthday dinner, maybe?” he’d nudge his side with an elbow, raising his eyebrows. 

“i don’t know” he mumbled “and stop calling them that”. the brunette kept looking for something in his bag, just to avoid atsumu’s tiring, curious glance. 

“fine then, how about your significant other?” he continued teasing. it’s not like sakusa would hate that scenario, of course he wouldn’t, yet his mind kept spiraling - what if you came in and heard that? what if you assumed he was calling you that behind your back?

what if you didn’t feel the same?

“stop butting in my relationships for once, miya! how many times am i supposed to tell you i’m not in any way romantically involved with them? i don’t even like them that much!” he lied, straight in his best friend’s face, fed up with all the jokes and smirks behind his back, and judging from atsumu’s shocked expression, and the color running away from his face, it worked. 

“what, don’t you have anything to say to me now?” he kept going, before atsumu shook his head, and pointed behind kiyoomi’s back wordlessly. the spiker raised an eyebrow, turning around to see you, in the flash, eyes wide open, a tiny little package in your hands, wrapped so neatly in colorful paper, with a little bow tie at the top. 

even from a distance he could already half see, half imagine tears prickling your eyes before you smiled sadly, dropped the box from your hand and let it fall to the floor, and began walking out of the gym room. 

“no, no no, y/n, wait!” he started shouting out, but your ears seemed deaf to his pleas, as he ran up to the door you just walked through, leaving atsumu alone, but with a condescending smile. 

“i don’t like them that much my ass, omi-kun” he whispered to himself before walking over to grab his things. 

meanwhile sakusa ran out to the reception room of the stadium, but as it turned out, it was filled with fans waiting for them all to come out, so they could wish him happy birthday, and it seemed impossible to get through the crowd and reached you, especially considering you were already at the exit door. 

he looked around himself and noticed all the people, how many of them were there, and how close to him, and got paralyzed in place, wanting to move, or disappear, that’d be for the best, and yet he couldn’t even move one foot. 

soon enough he felt a hand on his shoulder, guiding him back inside, his savior apologizing to the public.

“sorry guys, we have one more thing to go through! he’ll be out shortly” atsumu laughed off, before closing the door and handing omi the gift you left. 

the spiker mindlessly opened it, only to find out a spotify code inside, put in between a glass frame. he took out his phone from the bag and scanned it with his app, gasping audiably when the page loaded. 

lay back in the arms of someone by smokie showed up on his screen, and a smile crawled up his lips before he remembered how badly he fucked this up a second ago. 

he narrowed his eyebrows before looking up to find the blond setter’s eyes. 

“atsumu” his friend’s eyes widened in surprise upon hearing his first name, instead of surname “is there a back exit from here?” 

atsumu miya smirked. 

“bet ya there is, mr i-fucked-up-big-time” he answered, theatrically offering his hand, before taking the lead. 

you on the other hand, came home peacefully, although hot tears were streaming silently down your cold cheeks as you entered the apartment’s door and looked at the calendar, showing the date of march 20th. in a sudden wave of aggression you ripped it off, knowing that there’s nothing to be so pressed about: he had no duty of feeling the same way towards you, why would you even expect it?

you went on with your day, ordering takeout for dinner, snuggling up on your couch and rewatching a series, not granting your thoughts access to yourself, and it was really going well, until you heard the doorbell ring. 

“nobody’s home” you yelled, assuming it was either atsumu or bokuto on their way to cheer you up, and they’ll probably let themselves in as soon as they hear your voice, but that didn’t happen. instead, the doorbell kept on ringing. “ugh, just come in!” 

they didn’t come in, so you lifted yourself off the couch and walked over to the door, opening it and gasping a tiny bit when instead of your dumbass friends holding McDonald’s you saw a one hundred and ninety two centimeters tall figure of a man, struggling to catch his breath, leaning on your doorframe, his black coat unbuttoned, cheeks red, eyes puffy and hair in a mess, not even gelled into place as they always are. 

“can i help you?” you asked in a cold manner, voice sending daggers into his poor, confused heart, as he finally looked up to meet your glance, an apologetic look in his eyes when he tried to form a sentence. 

“i think i can... no, way, i think i might...” he kept struggling, to which you only rolled your eyes, waiting for the continuation of that sentence. 

“spit it out, sakusa” you stated, sending shivers down his spine with how annoyed you seemed. 

yeah, spit it out, sakusa, he thought to himself before taking a breath and finally speaking up correctly:

“i think i might be in love with you.” 

your eyes widened for a second as you tried to find evidence of honesty in his expression, tone, voice, because you definitely didn’t believe his words. 

his heart dropped when you scoffed. 

“i don’t need your pity” 

that’s when it hit him:

omi doesn’t like to spend his birthday without you. you make it not only bearable, but fun. 

in fact, he never wanted to spend it without you again. and as that realization made it’s way into his brain, he caught you closing your door. 

“i respect you too much to pity you” he spat out as he placed his hand in between the door and the frame, making you unable to close it, even if you wanted to. 

and there was the honesty you looked for. 

“then why—” you started to wonder, but he shook his head before interrupting, a helpless look across his face.

to lay back in the arms of someone

“i’m afraid of... of this, okay? i’m afraid of falling in love, if this is any explanation for you. it’s like... you make me feel as if i’m on the top of the world” he laughed nervously, making you raise your eyebrows, before continuing “and it’s fucking scary to imagine falling from that high” 

you give in to the charms of someone

his glance wondered all over your face to find crumbs of understanding, scared you’d laugh his confession off, a grimace of worry replacing the insecure smile painting his lips, and he was just one step away from shouting “i’m telling the truth!” at you, but you cut him off by opening your door fully, and welcoming him inside with a warm smile on your lips, and a reassuring sentence on your tongue.

happy 23rd, kiyoomi

“i think i might love you back”

omi likes feeling loved. 

the next year flew by on both of you pushing each other’s limits, challenging each other like the both of you always needed, being there for each other, finding out how nice it feels to have someone there. it was coming home with a sore throat after a night of yelling “one more point, omi-omi!”. it was carefully intertwining your pinkies together while shopping without even realizing. it was awkward dates, because the label “date” always changes the atmosphere. it was taking weird selfies, it was having to part for out-of-town games and facetiming from hotel rooms. it was butterflies in the stomach and a ball of fluff in mind. 

it was everything. 

the first year of your official relationship flew by in no time, kiyoomi finding new joy in his birthday since now it was really a day to be remembered, marking your anniversary. 

and just as you got home to his apartment after dinner, ready to unpack all the fanmail once again, the janitor of the building stopped you. 

“sakusa-san, there was a flower delievery for you” he sighed, going towards a locked shelf and coming back with a bouquet, at which kiyoomi stared for a whole five seconds before you decided to take it. 

“thank you for taking care of it” he muttered with a slight bow, you pushing him to go up the stairs. “who’s it from?” he’d ask you a minute later, halfway through the staircase. 

“don’t you wanna check yourself?” you asked, but he frantically shook his head. 

“check it for me, please”

omi doesn’t like flowers.

you nodded wordlessly before checking a card. 

“well if i’m not mistaken this is your surname” you furrowed, struggling to read the handwriting. in your defense, the kanji for “sakusa” are quite complicated. 

he looked over at the text before admitting “yeah, that’s from my aunt, she insists on sending those ever since i got into MSBY” he finally got to his door to unlock it “kinda sad how she didn’t even bother writing a text before” he chuckled, making you want to throw the flowers away. 

you knew he considered them worthless if that’s the story behind the nice gesture. 

the apartment door remained opened, but he didn’t enter, you almost stumbled over him, focusing on the note, and glanced over to see what caught him attention and prevented him from going inside. 

“this is your surname, for a change” he stated, showing you a buffy envelope over his shoulder, but didn’t let you take it when you tried. instead he opened it himself, a neatly wrapped package inside, with a note at the top:

i wore glowes making it! i swear!

there was a typo in gloves, and the writing style could use a little work on it, but that didn’t affect kiyoomi at all, as he was hypnotized with his package after noticing your surname on it. he carefully opened it, to find a keychain, made from cubes, as the ones used in different boardgames, on every one there was a letter or a number, together forming the writing “kiyoomi 15″ with a heart at the end. it was all on a black string, and almost shined with how many times it was wiped before sending. after holding it in his hand for a while, he noticed another card at the bottom of the package, taking it out and reading out loud:

“please take care of my sibling. happy 24th!” he uttered in sheer amazement, as he grazed his fingers over the delicate ornament, before wordlessly going inside the apartment. 

you followed him, closing the door behind you, worried about his reaction about your little sibling’s present, only to find him crouching before his couch, his training bag laying there as he tried to attach the keychain to the it’s zipper, smiling when he managed to do so. 

before he got to turn around to face you, you managed to take a photo of him smiling at the newest addition to his training gear, and send it to your family with a caption:

omi likes personalized stuff. 

over all the years of knowing kiyoomi, you’ve learnt so much about him, his life, his habits, everything. you knew him inside and out, and so he knew you. you’re laughing at your confusion and fear while you were buying his first birthday gift, as you sit on the floor in your shared apartment, plotting his 25th, biggest yet gift, as if he isn’t about to walk through the door, coming back from practice. 

it’s almost ridiculous, how you struggled, wondering if he’d even like a gift, when right now you have a whole list in mind:

although omi doesn’t like gifts, he likes little thougtful gestures. he doesn’t like fancy big words, but likes real, honest wishes he can really take to heart. he doesn’t like spending his birthday without you, he likes feeling love, doesn’t like flowers, but does like his gifts personalized and touching. 

you realize all the moments in your relationship made you know his every emotion and expression, but you’ve never seen your precious boyfriend cry, ever. 

and you decide to change that. 

you’re gonna make him something that’s gonna mask all the memories of his birthday being forgotten, walked pass by, pushed into the back, and not properly celebrated. that’s gonna outshine every single gift he’s ever got. that’s gonna make him so happy, he’ll cry.

an idea pops into your head as you get a pen and start writing. 

dear kiyoomi,

_______

“dear kiyoomi” you get to hear him say a couple of nights later, he reads it out on your plea, with a smile across his lips, as you, atsumu, bokuto, meian and hinata, as well as omi’s older siblings and komori and osamu sit at the table, a cake and two traces of his favorite cupcakes are taking all the space possible.

omi’s voice is colored with a couple of glasses of wine, so it’s easier to him to relax and genuinely grin at the paper as he’s reading, all part of your plan. 

“when i first met you, the first thing i found out is that you’re a private person. not that i was freaked out or anything, but you did have, and probably you still do, a heavy aura around you that may have flustered me a tiny little— a tiny little bit? smiles, your hands literally shivered” he stopped to comment, making you roll your eyes at him.

“zip it and keep reading, birthday boy”

“... a tiny little bit, i agree. nevertheless, the first thing i actually felt, was that you striked my soul as someone weird. thanks, baby” he interrupted again, but you urged him to keep reading. “... weird in a way that made me feel like i’ve never felt before, the kind of safe and terrified at the same time. terrified of what, you might ask? well, kiyoomi, here i’d like to quote you. you once told me that me loving you is like i had the power to break you, and you loving me back was like giving me a map with all the points to strike at. well if that’s the definition of love we’re going for here, than i not only give you a map, i’ll grant you a whole GPS. the trust you put in me every day to not take advantage of what you’ve given me is inspiring, and hence, i surrender every single point of ressistance i’ve held against you, i’m yours to snap at a wish, and trusting you that you won’t do it is something i can spend my life believing in.” 

at this point kiyoomi had to stop and take a deep breath and a sip of his wine before continuing, clearing his throat a bit, chocking back his emotion. 

“... throughout my years by your side, i’ve memorized everything there is to memorize about you and gifts. you generally aren’t a fan, but you like them carrying a lot of thought, dedication, you like them meant exactly to you and to you only. you don’t want pointless blabbing and overused sentences, you enjoy sincerity. you need love radiating from them in order to truly acknowledge them as something special. now, the last thing i know is that you don’t like flowers, but i hope you won’t be too angry with me and with what i’ve prepared for you. enjoy, signed, your smiles” he finished, looking up at you, already moving towards the counter, grabbing a bouquet from behind it. 

he watched in amazement as you handed it to him, taking it in his hands, realizing that- 

it was a bouquet of origami flowers. 

“please, y/n, this is so—” he tried to find the right words, but once again, nothing came to mind as he watched your careful work from every side possible. 

“shh, there’s a special thing to them” you explained, sitting back in your seat, exactly in a straight line from him, watching every single change in his expression as he tried to find what you meant. 

he realized every flower had a little card sticking out from it’s center, and pulled the first one, the closest one to him. 

“the first reason i love you” he read in a weak voice, chuckling nervously again before he found the courage to read it out loud “you make me feel protected” 

he looked up at you with such a gentle and caring note in his eyes that you almost didn’t want to encourage him to keep reading it, but you did. 

“two. you don’t smile too much” after that he raised an eyebrow, but read the next one “three. ...but when you do, you outshine the sun itself. four. you memorized my coffee order within the first two times we’ve been to a caffee. five. you got supplies to redo my coffee order without going to the— hey i swear i didn’t mean anything bad by it!” 

“that’s literally the reason they love you for, idiot” atsumu laughed, urgining him to keep reading with a hand gesture. “come on, this is adorable”

“six. you have a playlist with songs that remind you of me. yes, i know this, omi, we share a spotify account. seven. you claim you don’t like interacting with people, but let a little girl propose to you with a cereal ring in the park.”

“this is too cute, omi is a softie” bokuto whined, hiding his face in his hands, but sakusa only slapped them off. 

“am not. eight. you keep a mental score of all the times you won over ushijima. nine. you take way too much pride in beating atsumu in service aces”

“true that!” atsumu shouted, hiding behind his glass. 

“ten” sakusa shook his head. “you don’t enjoy PDA, yet gave me the kiss of the century when i met your mother, just to annoy her. eleven. your childhood photos are too cute. twelve. you blasted hopelessly devoted to you the morning after we— i’m not reading that, idiot!” he half laughed half whined, in a high-pitched voice. 

“omi-san knows how it’s done, apparently” hinata wheezed, komori accompanying him. 

“did i ask?” he rolled his eyes and went back to picking lines from the flowers. “thirteen, you tug the corner of my sleeves when you’re stressed in public. fourteen, you have me saved in your phone as your good luck charm. fifteen. you put my head on your chest when i can’t sleep at night, to calm me down. sixteen. you make me laugh when i’m sad. seventeen. you almost never intent to make me laugh, yet always do. eighteen. you always make sure i’m carrying all the emergency items all me at all times. nineteen. you make me call you when i get home from a party, if you aren’t there to pick me up. twenty, you always insist on picking me up from wherever i am, because you’re worried about me. i mean yeah, what kind of a boyfriend would i be if i weren’t?” he genuinely asked, half of the guest shaking their heads. 

“come on, five more to go, you adorable, clueless idiot” motoya pat his back and looked over his shoulder to see your careful handwriting, before sakusa hid the message from him. 

“twenty one. you make me not worry about my future. twenty two, you try to do all your little morning rituals in advance when you leave, so i don’t miss you too much. i still do. twenty three, you’re never afraid to be bluntly honest with me. twenty four, you always ask if you can hug me when i’m low or crying. and twenty five—” he stopped more suddenly than anywhere before, eyes visibly watering before he dropped his head down and his it in his arms. 

“what’s on there?” several guys asked over themselves, as omi kept laughing slightly, hiding tears in the sleeves of his fitted shirt. 

“you’re gonna be the death of me” he murmured into the material, making everyone laugh, including you, who decided to walk over to him and hug him, resting your head on his, taking advantage of the fact that he was sitting and you could reach it. 

after a moment of weakness, he showed his red and slightly puffy face, two trails of tears fitting his smiling expression as he struggled to say 

“twenty five. you make me prouder and prouder every day.” he kept laughing through his tears, really trying to hide his emotion and failing miserably. “you really did try to make me cry on my birthday, didn’t you?” he looked up to you still embracing him. 

“i suppose i did”

“well then, i’m gonna outshine you” he said, shifting in his seat in order to get up, wiping the last remains of tears from his face. 

“what do you mean?” you asked, met with his confident smirk. 

“you’re gonna see in a bit, trust me” he huffed, dusting off his pants’ material on the knee level, and reaching over to his pocket, in his hand a tiny, little box. 

with a little more than an origami flower. 

#haikyuu sakusa #sakusa #sakusa kiyoomi #hq fanfic #hq prompts #hq scenarios #haikyuu!! #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x gender neutral reader #sakusa x reader #kiyoomi sakusa x reader #sakusa fluff #fluff #hq fluff

[favoniuscodex]

inheritance scarf scene - diluc’s pov

ahahahaahahhahah ask and you shall receive! for the lovely @chapioca ,,, a reward for drawing me a pic of diluc smiling ,,, :3333 ,,, sorry for anyone who has notifs on and sees inheritance in the title of the post.

side fic to inheritance, my (decently?) long diluc royalty!au series. find the series here if you’re interested!

pairing: prince!diluc x f!knight!reader word count: 1.8k plot: diluc’s point of view of the scene in inheritance part 1 where he gives the knight his scarf. warnings: spoilers for inheritance part one and act two scene 2 if you haven’t read them already. a/n: haha look at this emotionally constipated dude. the knight should’ve picked kaeya lmao. no beta reader for this one and i havent read over it so sorry for any mistakes!

Much to his behest, Diluc enjoys your company.

The prince has never been one to make such informal attachments to others. Granted, he’s never really been given the chance, but that’s besides the point. For Diluc, the Venn diagram of people he cares about and his family members was a single circle, until, of course, you barged your way in. Sure, he could give a good public relations answer about how Diluc was indebted to the people of Mond for respecting and acknowledging his family’s authority over the territory and allowing his father to lead, but as of now, nineteen-year-old Prince Diluc couldn’t really give a single shit about whether the people of Mond liked him or not.

Of course, Diluc had basic human empathy to wish for his constituents’ needs to be well taken care of, but he had no desire to be viewed as some great savior or leader in their eyes. He wanted to bring honor to his father and be viewed as a righteous man in order to bring the Ragnvindr family honor, but, for himself, he longed not for the praises of his citizens but rather to be left alone. A mutual respect of his boundaries while he respected theirs, if you may.

But you? You had barreled past his walls without him even knowing it, whether it be your smug expression hidden behind a thin veil of stoicism whenever he begrudgingly admitted you were right about something that he had previously asked your advice on (and ignored, of course) or the way you stare at him with steely resolve in your eyes as he challenges you. In those moments, Diluc fails to understand how you don’t have a Vision, as the pools of your irises crackle with the electricity of subdued defiance and you set his heart ablaze with invisible flames.

In the midst of the winter chill that surrounds the both of you, Diluc fails to understand how, even now, you make him feel warm inside. You walk beside him in silence, your eyes looking past him, always looking past him as you scan for threats. Your posture is always on the defense, ready to reach up and grab your sword at any moment. Diluc wants nothing more than to sling an arm around your shoulder and ease the tension within them, to tell you that he isn’t fragile and that it’s okay to drop your guard at times.

However, duty calls your name like a siren luring a sailor and Diluc is left standing at the shore, watching you drift further away from him on the tides. Your back faces him as you swim toward righteousness, a perfect subject of the throne, a perfect potential quee-. The prince shakes his head slightly to clear such intrusive thoughts out of his head and as you look at him out of the corner of your eye, alerted by even the most subtle of movements, he hopes the wintry air gives you a reason to overlook the slight flush on his cheeks.

You do not smile at him and instead continue marching onwards. You’ve always been quiet and Diluc has been the same, never enjoying forced small talk and instead relishing in the silence between the two of you. He was never sure if you enjoyed the quiet moments you shared together or if you were simply counting down the seconds until your shift ended. Diluc wishes he could find the courage to ask what you truly think of him, but he knows that you would simply plaster a false smile and tell him what he wants to hear in your neverending duty to protect the throne. Whether such information would be true or false would fall beyond Diluc’s realm of knowledge, but maybe he just tells himself that you would lie in order to avoid finding out the truth, in order to avoid fraying the tapestry of your relationship with him. Maybe, if Diluc had not been of noble blood, the two of you could have been far better friends than you are now. Maybe, if Diluc had not been of noble blood, the two of you would have-

His gaze pierces into you as you walk slightly in front of him on the defensive. Diluc doesn’t realize he’s staring until he witnesses you shiver, which snaps him out of his morose thoughts. You’re cold. Of course you are. While Diluc is bundled up with a scarf and a proper coat, you’re wearing a thin coat designed for autumn and the armor upon you likely only attracts the cold rather than repelling it. He’s a fool for not realizing it sooner and feels sick to his stomach at the thought of you having gone through unnecessary discomfort for the sake of his own whims.

Diluc has never been fond of the throne but has always prided himself on being a good heir, but how can he pride himself on such things when he makes the woman he cares about most, his most loyal knight, face the winds of winter all due to his own selfishness? He stops in his tracks, which causes you to pause as well and turn around to look back at him.

“Are you cold?” Diluc asks, regretting the way his voice sounds annoyed, but feels too awkward to correct it. You seem to take no offense to his question, yet he sees a nervousness arise in your eyes.

“No.” The word falls from your lips and suddenly Diluc understands your nerves. You were afraid to lie to him, yet you did. Unfortunately for you, the prince was more than willing to call your bluff as he narrows his eyes at you.

An idea hatches in his brain and it’s terribly selfish. Unfortunately for him, Diluc wasn’t afraid to be selfish.

“Take my scarf,” He insists and he watches your eyes widen slightly in surprise and confusion before your neutral expression returns.

“I couldn’t possibly do such a thing.” You insist and he feels his heart rate quicken at your polite tone. Diluc wants to both yell at you and kiss you due to your insolence and your refusal of his orders, even if your intentions are kind. He wants to do something for you and he’s willing to drop onto his knees and beg you to let him do this for you.

“You’re cold, therefore take the scarf.” His explanation is simple, but it is one of annoyance. He doesn’t trust himself to speak any further.

“It’s my duty to ensure your comfort. Therefore, you keep the scarf as you should stay warm,” You explain and Diluc’s inner conflict on whether he should embrace you or scream at you subsides with an odd warmth in his chest. The prince wants to kiss you, he wants nothing more than to warm your face in his hands, to wrap you up in his coat and watch as you walk around in what is blatantly his, a mark of possession that announces to all that you belong to him.

However, you don’t belong to him and Diluc is far too aware of such a fact. It eats away at him at night, it eats away at him as he stares at you when your gaze is turned the other way, and it eats away at him when the two of you are apart. Therefore, he can offer you no more than his scarf at the moment and will have to make do with the more subtle of the options he can provide you at this point in time.

“It would make me more comfortable if you wore the scarf instead,” Diluc insists and he knows he’s coming off as an asshole at this moment, but he would give you the world if you let him, so why won’t you take something as simple as a scarf? He decides this is a battle that he must win and preps the arrow of his words on the bow of his lips and fires, aiming for the bullseye of your pride. “Plus, what kind of prince would I be if I let my constituents suffer on my behalf?”

You freeze at his words, eyes widening in surprise and indignation as you realize exactly what game the prince is playing at. He’s aware that you’re aware of the implication of his words, yet he can’t bring himself to care as he seizes your hesitation to transfer the scarf from his neck to yours. His gloved fingertips brush against your neck and Diluc wonders once more if you have an Electro Vision hidden within your uniform from the way the mere gesture sends lightning bolts rippling through his fingers and up his arms, shocking the butterflies within his stomach into overdrive.

Diluc steps closer to you as he adjusts the fabric around your neck, narrowing his eyes as he does so. You deserve nothing less than the best, so the prince makes sure it looks perfect before stepping away from you, still staring at the scarf. Heat spreads throughout his body at the sight of you in his scarf, but he decides to tear his gaze away from you before the thoughts can consume him whole.

“There. Now was that so hard?” The words come out as a sneer and Diluc doesn’t want to sound so mean, but his emotions are a whirlpool inside of him as his heart beats in overdrive and adrenaline rushes through his veins at the thought of you wearing his clothing. Before his face can fully blossom into the color of a cherry tomato and before Diluc would be unable to blame the red flush on the chilly air of Mondstadt, he elects to move in front of you this time.

He notes how it takes you a moment to scamper after him and he notes your silence on the way back to the castle. Diluc is appreciative of the avoidance of the subject at hand, but when you catch up to him, he notes that you no longer shiver. While his heart soars with pride at being able to get away at such a brazen act of affection, his stomach can’t help but drop at the thought that you likely view it as no more than the chivalrous actions of a prince and not one of a…

Diluc refuses to dwell on the thought, nor does he ask for the scarf back. Maybe, just maybe, if you take a piece of him back with you to your chambers, you’ll think of him in a way that extends past the realms of your knighthood. It’s a hopeless dream, yet one Diluc cannot help but indulge in nonetheless. After all, the prince has always known himself to be selfish.

#diluc x reader #kinda nervous to tag it as that since it's a side fic BUT still it counts #anyways #//diluc #//inheritance #//writing

[myarmsaretoolong]

so ive been reading all the young dudes...

its massively inspired me to actually get on and figure out this epic length hogwarts au that follows from the og6 starting at hogwarts (marauders style) and going all the way to peter's seventh year

obviously there's a ton of plot stuff in the middle that im still figuring out but i have some basic ideas

anyway this one scene has been bugging me all week so i decided just to write it and see and?? i actually think?? its kinda good?? usually i write something and think meh but this feels good for some reason

its clints perspective, he's 11 but not at hogwarts yet, and yes im making them all british. let me know if you think this actually has legs? im nervous (also ive not edited this at all so ignore any mistakes)

St Joseph’s Home for Wayward Children looked more like a prison than an orphanage. Its grey stone walls were high enough to block out the sun, impossible to climb but topped with barbed wire for good measure. The wrought-iron gate, the only way in or out, was old and rusty and squealed like a kicked pig any time it opened. It, too, stretched upwards, though was much easier to climb. Unfortunately, Clint hadn’t been careful enough of the spikes on top and got himself stuck where he had to wait until Matron came and got him down in the morning surrounded by all the other boys all laughing and pointing at him. The stunt earned him the cane and got him sent to his room without dinner for a week.

Everything was grey at St Joseph’s. The painted walls, the cold stone floors, the uniforms - grey blazer, grey tie, grey jumper, grey trousers, grey socks. The shoes were black, as was the stupid little hat they had to wear, but they hardly added colour to the drab place. Hell, even the sky was grey.

The building itself was U-shaped and surrounded the yard on three sides (the fourth side had the gate to freedom). It housed around eighty children, split pretty evenly between boys and girls. Actually everything was split between boys and girls. A chain-link fence cut the yard - which was really more a concrete square - perfectly in half. Boys on the left, girls on the right.

The east wing housed the boys’ dormitories, bathrooms, and sports room. Presumably the west wing had the same for the girls, not that Clint would know. Sometimes when he looked out of his window he would see one of the girls doing the same, staring up at the stars and dreaming of some other life they’d never get to live.

Classrooms filled the main building, and the canteen took up most of the ground floor. Once again, the boys had to sit at tables on the left while eating, the staff lined up down the middle with crossed arms and permanent scowls to stop them interacting with the girls on the right. Not that they could talk to them anyway because they had to sit in silence. Upstairs, the corridors had a thick white line painted on the stone to keep them separate. Occasionally, one of the boys would manage to pass a note to a girl as they passed between lessons and it would be the talking point of the week.

There was a sharp rap at the door and a shrill voice called out, “Up! Breakfast in ten.”

It was the same as every morning. The four other boys in Clint’s dorm groaned. The oldest and biggest of the lot, Phillip Hutchins, rolled over and pressed his pillow over his head.

“I said, up!” Matron said again, her voice strained.

“Yes, Miss,” the other boys chorused. Hutchins added an extra layer of sarcasm.

All four of them looked at Clint, waiting. Clint rolled his eyes and looked back out the window. “Yes, Miss,” he mumbled.

Matron gave a satisfied hum and marched off to the next room to begin the routine over again.

Reluctantly, the other boys changed out of their grey pyjamas and into their grey uniforms, made their grey beds and trailed out into the grey halls. Hutchins threw his balled up pyjamas at Clint on the bunk opposite the door and cackled, “Tosser!”

The clothes hit Clint’s chest and fell into his lap. In one swift motion, he swept them up and lobbed the bundle back, hitting Hutchins square in the face. Hutchins’ cheeks went tomato red and his hands curled into fists. “You’ll regret that!” He slammed the door behind him, rattling the bunk Clint was sat on.

The five boys had three bunks between them and nobody wanted to share with Clint, not that he cared anyway. He was perfectly content to be left alone, not poked and prodded all night like the other boys did to each other.

Across the yard, Clint could see the first few girls passing windows as they went to breakfast. He looked closer at the room directly opposite his own. A red-haired girl stood on tiptoes as she struggled to make her bed. She didn’t see Clint watching her. He wasn’t a nonce or anything, the girls had the luxury of curtains on their windows. There was just something about the girl, rumours that followed her about like a bad smell.

Clint watched her tie her frilly bow tie around her neck and straighten out her skirt before she stalked out of her room. He hopped from his bunk and stripped, pulling his trousers and shirt on as quickly as possible. Then, slinging on his blazer, he ran out into the hall with his hat between his teeth as he fiddled with his tie.

He thundered down the hall, heavy footsteps echoing off the walls, and barrelled past Mr Adams - the history teacher.

“Stop this instant!” Adams bellowed, shaking his fist. Clint ignored him and kept on. “Detention after last class. My office!” He spoke like they did on the news, all propper with all the letters pronounced. All the staff at St Joseph’s did.

Clint, mentally, flipped him off as he turned a corner, he’d learned the hard way it’s not worth actually doing it. After he’d got his tie on straight, he ran a hand over his hair and shoved on his hat. Matron shaved the boys’ hair so short they might as well be bald, leaving it spikey and sticking straight up. The girls’ was cut to the middle of their backs and always in neat pigtails.

He reached the staircase and hopped the railing to the landing below, stumbling a little as he landed before turning and jumping to the ground floor. The corners of his mouth turned up a little when he stuck the landing. Quickly, he returned to his usual scowl and shoved his hands in his pockets, kicking up dust as he traipsed down the boys’ side of the corridor.

The red-haired girl appeared at the other end. She tugged awkwardly at her skirt hem but stopped as soon as she noticed him walking towards her. Clint caught her eye and lifted his chin in a nod. The girl held his stare and kept walking.

The smell of breakfast wafted from the canteen between them, as did the scrape of cutlery and dull thud of shoes. The girl didn’t thud. You’d have thought she was floating the amount of noise she made, all the girls were like it. It made Clint pick his feet up and straighten his back.

Still she stared at him. She opened her mouth and-

“Barton!” Matron shrieked, appeared in the canteen doorway. “Inside, now.” She grabbed his ear and dragged him in, giving him a shove for good measure.

“Oi!” Clint tripped over his feet, one hand covering his ear as he looked back. Matron crossed her arms and looked down her pointed nose at him. She looked like a bird from this angle. Behind her, the girl slipped in unnoticed.

Hutchins and his mates laughed, spraying toast crumbs across the table. Clint balled his hands into fists, his face a shade of red. He could jump Matron, give her a black eye to last a month, but it would get him slammed in all-day detention for twice as long so he thought better of it. Instead, he stalked up to the counter where the dinner lady filled his tray with two slices of plain toast and a bowl of cornflakes.

The boys either side of him shuffled away when he sat, nobody wanted to be associated with him else they’d get on Hutchins bad side, too. Clint didn’t care. He only had to survive five more years, then he’d be out. Besides, Hutchins would only be around for two more. Maybe then he could slink through the halls unnoticed and unbothered.

He ate grumpily, biting at the toast in between mouthfuls of cereal. Once or twice, he glanced over at the girls’ side. The redhead had her back to him, eating alone at the end of the table as she always did.

Just as he was about to go back to the counter and ask for seconds, Mrs Westwood walked right up to him with another boy Clint didn’t recognise in tow. Clint shuffled in his seat, turning his back, but Westwood cleared her throat loudly, drawing unwanted attention from Hutchins.

“Wot?” Clint kept his head down, shoulder up around his ears.

“Today is James’ tenth birthday.”

“Who’s James?”

Out the corner of his eye, Clint saw the boy give a little wave.

“As you know,” Westwood ploughed on, “it’s tradition that the youngest shows the new boys how things are done.”

Clint remembered his tenth birthday well. Westwood got him up early and took him to one of the supply cupboards where she took out the ‘big kids’ uniform’ - as she called it. He got changed in the bathroom, then marched into the big kids’ canteen. His guide was some goody-goody barely past his own tenth birthday called Paul or Patrick or something like that. Clint followed him around all day - new classes, new dorms, new boys. Then the git went and got adopted the next day, leaving Clint to figure out the rest on his own.

“Right,” he muttered.

“He’ll also be in your dorm.”

There goes his empty bunk.

Westwood patted James on the shoulder, gave him a tight smile, and swept from the room. Clint fished around for the last few flakes, not caring how loud his spoon hit the bowl.

“Sit, then,” he snapped, noticing James was still standing there wringing his hands. James practically fell through the bench he sat so hard.

He could feel the boy's eyes boring into his skull. The last thing he wanted was a shadow clinging to him all day, probably never drop him if James got too attached. James still hadn’t got the hint. Clint slammed down his spoon and turned to look him straight in the eye. “Want sumffink?”

“N-No!” James stammered. He nibbled on his lip, eyes darting between Clint’s. “Where do I get food?”

“There.” Clint pointed at the counter and James scampered off.

Clint half watched, just to be sure he got something. Angrily, he realised that, though he wasn’t the youngest anymore, James was at least a head taller than him and much less skinny. His uniform was neat and tidy, not a thread out of place, unlike Clint’s that often got him shouted at by the staff.

James returned and ate in silence as they were supposed to. Clint snuck another glance at the red-haired girl. He knew the rumours about her were bad, but not bad enough for all the girls to ignore her. They were hardly the worst things he’d heard.

Matron strutted to the front of the canteen and clapped her hands twice. Everyone rose, benches scraping along the stone. James sprang up a second later, half a slice of toast still hanging out of his mouth. Clint snatched it and threw it down.

James looked down, mourning his breakfast. “Now what?”

“Church,” he shrugged. “Sunday, innit?”

They lined up, boys on the left, girls on the right, and Matron led them into the chapel. As the others started filing into the pews, Clint grabbed a handful of James’ blazer and hung back, shuffling into the last row. James smoothed the creases out of his uniform as everyone else settled.

Clint zoned out as the Chaplain droned on about some dusty old book, though James sat forward to listen.

The chapel was easily the most interesting room at St Joseph’s. Still drab and grey for the most part, but there were marble arches in the roof way above, and coloured patterns in the stones making up the floor, and other things like the weird sink next to the Chaplain’s podium. In other words, there was something to look at.

He found himself drifting back to the red-haired girl. She wasn’t hard to find, what with having half a pew to herself while all the other girls crammed in around her. She had her head tilted back, looking up at the arches. He found himself feeling jealous of the way they left her alone.

Maybe he could make one of his own weird things happen. Maybe he could do something really bad and scare Hutchins so much he daren’t look at him ever again.

that's what i have so far, let me know what you think!

#i have maybe three plot points and a vibe and im making it a fic #having ideas above my station again #mcu #marvel #avengers #clint barton #tony stark #steve rogers #natasha romanoff #bruce banner #thor #peter parker #ao3 #irondad #thor odinson #avengers hogwarts au #avengers harry potter au #my writing #avengers fic #avengers fanfic

[tyb1]

If It’s The Right Thing To Do (3)

Part 3

Words:1978

Character: Seth Clearwater

Dialogue prompt:“Sam hurry!” He seemed to catch the drift. Sam began to run faster through the dark night.

Part 1 - Part 2 -Part 4

 tag list - @alecvolturiswifeforever @scoverdale1 @anndaydreamer @fae-lore @queen-of-embracing-uncertainty​

message me or comment if you’d like to be on the tag list :)

 “Sam! Sam!” I was furiously knocking on the door. Everything just felt like it was in slow motion. It seemed like Sam would never open the door.

“What is it (Y/N)?”

“Paul is going to kill him!”

Sam nonchalantly leaned against the door with his shirtless body. He looked at me as if I was a crazy lady trying to get her cat back. “What’s going on (Y/N)? Who is Paul going to kill.”

“He’s going to kill Seth. They started to fight near the beach and Paul’s going to kill him because he’s a traitor.” I started to pull his body towards the front door. Sam’s eyes grew hard. He pushed me to the side walking past me leaving Emily in the bed. “He will not kill Seth! (Y/N) when I shift, get on my back.”

“What? Why?” I was hot on his tail. I didn’t miss a beat. I wouldn’t be surprised if he felt my breath on his neck.

“Because if there is anyone out there that could stop Seth it would be you.”

There were mixed emotions running through my body. One side of me was happy that Sam entrusted me with this while the other side felt sorry because we had to stop a mess we created.

“Okay.” Sam nodded to me before he shifted. He knelt down so I could climb onto his furry back. Once I did he took off into the woods. I could hear Emily in the background screaming something to us. I couldn’t hear her nor did I want to. My whole mind was running wild with thoughts. The last thing I wanted was for Paul to kill the love of my life. Paul had a greater advantage than Seth, everyone in the pack knew this. 

I could hear his howls as we ran farther into the woods. There were vicious growls coming from left and right. The longer they fought the closer they grew to the treaty line. It seemed like Paul was trying to push him back to the Cullens. If he did then they would react as if we were threatening them. Little did Paul know he was starting a mini-war with them. He was giving them a green light to attack since Seth was one of them now.

“Sam hurry!” He seemed to catch the drift. Sam began to run faster through the dark night. There was no telling if we’d run-up to a murder scene or not.  

We arrived at a horrible sight. Paul was on top of Seth sinking his teeth into his shoulder. Jared, Quil, and Embry were circling around them making sure no one interfered. “Get off of him Paul!” That was the only thing I could say right now. I kept repeating myself screaming at Paul to stop but no one listened.

“Sam what’s wrong with you stop them!” Sam just sat there watching quietly as they fought longer. I could hear Seth howls ringing in my ear. The next thing I saw was another grey wolf come and knock Paul off of his feet. They both began to fight Paul biting and ripping at each other’s fur.

“Leah Stop! You’re about to start something that I’d have to finish” Jacob ran to shift, Leah didn’t bother to stop, she kept fighting Paul. Quil and Embry blocked Jacobs' way so that he couldn’t interfere. The only thing I could do was sit there and watch my family slowly fall apart. 

Everyone was fighting, Paul, Leah, Quil, Embry, Jacob. Nothing out of this whole situation hurt me more than seeing Jared jump on Seth. He was so helpless he’d already fought Paul. Bella threw him into a tree wrecking his whole entire body. I was so tired of people bullying him. He was too precious for that.

“Get off of him Jared! Get off of him now!” I quickly jumped from Sam’s back. I ran towards them ready to fight for him. I was only knocked down by Sam. I fell to the ground landing on my butt. Sam let out an utterly deep growl getting everyone’s attention. They all stopped their antics and looked up at Sam, even Jacob. I quickly ran over to Seth who was barely getting by. 

“Are you okay?” We were on the border of the treaty line. One more step we’d be on their tuff which was now Seth’s. They transformed back into their human forms. That same vein that was protruding from Sam’s head today was now visible.  Paul still in his human form went to charge at Seth. I stood up in front of him protecting him with my life. 

“Paul stop your shit!” Sam grabbed Paul pulling him away from Seth before he could do any more damage. 

Sam glared at everyone that surrounded him. “For one Paul you don’t attack anyone unless I give you the order! Two you don’t attack your brothers no matter what he has done! Three Seth this is your last time over here. If you come over here again I’ll have them attack you.” 

“But Sam!”

“Be quiet (Y/N)! He made his decision when he left. He can either come back and live a happy life with you or he can leave and have you heartbroken like he did the first time.”

Those words were so raw and surreal. Sam never sugarcoated anything for me. Seth stood up with the little energy he had. He reached for my hand which I gladly gave to him. 

“(Y/N) just come with me.”

“What?”

“Just come with me so we don’t have to deal with them bothering us anymore.”

“Or you can come back home where you’re loved so they won’t bother us about seeing each other.”

Seth laughed, it was one of the disappointing laughs that your parents give you when you’re acting stupid. “(Y/N) I love you but you are so dumb at times. You really want to stay here with someone who abandoned you as a child. When Sam left you I was there for you! No one even took the chance to ask if you were alright but I did. You saying that you rather stay with them than me is like a slap in the face.” 

“He’s family Seth and unlike you, he was man enough to come back and apologize for his actions but you didn’t!” 

“I had priorities (Y/N)!”

I ripped my hands away from him. “It seems like you have your priorities fucked up. What’s gotten into you, Seth! It’s like I don’t even know you!”

“They changed him (Y/N)! He’s not the same Seth anymore!” Sam shouted, he walked over to us pointing his finger into Seth’s face. “You’re no longer welcome here so leave.”

“I wasn’t talking to you Sam I was talking to (Y/N).”

“Seth please just come home.” I tried to plead with him but it seemed like nothing was working. It was clear as day that he wasn’t coming back. Seth wanted to be with the Cullens. He’d rather protect them than come home and love me.

“You already have your mind made up. It’s just like the first time you left Seth. You changed….they changed you for the worse. You’re so selfish, you don’t understand where I’m coming from. I’ve always looked up to you as a leader but now you’re just a follower. Don’t get me wrong I’m proud of you for standing your ground and making your own decisions but yet I’m so disappointed in you for turning you back against your family.” 

I looked back at Sam nodding at him to walk back home, I quickly followed behind him. If Seth wanted it to end like this then so be it. I’ve given him two chances now and I’d be a fool if I came running back to him. If Seth loved me like he said he did he wouldn’t let me walk off for a second time. 

“(Y/N) you don’t understand.”

“No Seth Clearwater you don’t understand.” 

I turned so quickly on my heel you could basically see fire on my feet. I marched back up to him roughly pointing my finger in his chest. “You don’t understand all the nights I stayed up crying and begging for you to come home! I gave up on my social life because you were the only thing that matters to me. You abandon me just like my dad. You always promised me that you wouldn’t and yet you did!” 

“(Y/N) I never knew how much I hurt you. I’m sorry.”

He wrapped his arms around me, I began to shake and sob. This was too much, so much was going on that I couldn’t handle it. “Seth you’re just like my mom and dad, you always break your promises.”

“I love you.” 

“No, you don’t Seth. The only reason you love me is for the reason that you imprinted on me. Your soul is telling you to love me.” 

I started to pull away from him tears were brimming his eyes as I did. I tried to look away but I couldn’t. It was like I was in a trance, his sparkling brown eyes were telling me to stay. 

“(Y/N) I do love you. Please (Y/N)”

“I’m sorry Seth but I can’t do this anymore. I’m tired of being hurt by the people that I love. There has to be a day where I tell them that they are no longer welcomed in my heart.”

Leah and Jacob came walking standing near Seth. Leah stared at me with cold stone eyes. I didn’t blame her though I was making her baby brother cry. I wouldn’t blame her if she came over here to rip my head off.

“Seth let’s go.” I stepped back as Leah walked closer to Seth. Paul growled at her knowing that this wasn’t her territory anymore. Leach took a step back over the treaty line glaring at Paul.

“No Leah not yet. (Y/N) please come with me. I'm sorry for everything I did but I don’t want to lose you. I can’t live without you. Please don’t do this to me.” 

I laughed, “Seth, you already proved that you can live without me when you left the first time. Why should I leave my family behind to be with you? I can’t just walk away from everything that I know just for you. I don’t know if I can trust you again.” 

Seth grabbed me, pulling me into another hug. I nearly melted again, I don’t think I could live without him. Everyone surrounding us knew we couldn’t live without each other but I couldn’t let myself get hurt by him again. “I love you Seth but I think it’s the best for the both of us.”

Sam interrupted, clearing his voice so everyone could hear. “I think it’s best if we all leave and never come in contact with one another again. When you guys come to your senses then we’ll be able to talk. Until then don’t step foot on the ground again or I’ll have you killed. Family or Not.” 

I looked back up at Seth giving him a quick peck on the cheek. I wiped his tears away smiling softly at him. “You’ll be okay Seth.”

I walked back to Sam watching as Leah and Jacob crossed the treaty line. Seth just sat there with his head hanging low. “(Y/N) I need it to come from your mouth.”

“What?”

Seth looked up to me with his teary eyes he walked towards me. He placed his shaking hand in mine taking it, placing it on his heart. “Tell me to leave! Tell me that you don’t love me! Cause my heart that’s beating right now only beats for you.”

#seth clearwater #seth clearwater imagine #seth clearwater x reader #seth clearwater one shot #paul lahote #sam uley imagine #sam uley #jared cameron #jacob black #leah clearwater #embry call #quil ateara #twilight wolves #twilight wolf pack #twilight imagine #twilight x reader #wolf pack imagine #twilight #paul lahote imagine #leah clearwater imagine #jacob black imagine #jared cameron imagine #embry call imagine #quil atera imagine