#define close

[icallhimjoey]

Drown In You

♥ ♥  Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader

Summary: In the shower with Joe, words get spoken that hold nothing back. This is the cut scene, the one entirely jumped over, from part 5 of Reinvent Love, remastered in full HD for your enjoyment. Full smut, little plot (although, read Reinvent Love because it'll help)!

CW / disclaimer: 18+, smut, language, rpf, fem!reader, reader has hair that needs to be brushed after showering

Author’s note: okay so the horny bitches in my inbox have let themselves be heard, and who am i to tell you no? here you go my cumcum twats, enjoy!

Wordcount: 3.2K

“I’ll wait.”

Old hair product mixed with sweat ran into your eyes as the shower stream hit you right over the head and… wait. What? You didn’t think you heard that right.

Joe was holding you, because you’d let the surface crack. You didn’t know if it was his repeated asking for you to talk to him, or if it was how he kept looking at you. But you’d cracked, and you’d seen Joe’s eyes flare for just a second, like what he’d been asking for actually didn’t turn out to be what he wanted. Immediate regret punched him right in the stomach when you showed the smallest bit of emotion.

Joe worried about you.

Worried he was pushing you further away whilst he was trying to keep you close.

Worried he had made mistakes too big to rectify.

Worried you were never going to tell him how you actually felt and he’d just have to go off body language, which, you’d been doing that and it had been fine, but some situations called for explanations.

Like this one.

He just thought you’d get angry with him. Not that you’d cry. In hindsight, he didn’t fully understand why that hadn’t been the expectation, though. You always felt with your whole body. Heavy emotion and tears always found you fast.

So he’d curled his arms around you then, and it took you a good while to control the spasms inside of your chest. You weren’t technically crying, you didn’t think, but if Joe was going to press you to talk one more time, you’d burst right into sobs.

And then he said, “I’ll wait.”

That made you look up at him, forcing him to slide one of his arms from around your head.

“I’ll wait for you. I can be patient.”

So you had heard him right.

The line in between your eyebrows grew deeper as you frowned at him, because what the fuck did he mean he was going to wait? And, in addition, what the fuck did he mean he could be patient?

Joe had just followed you around the flat trying to provoke you into arguing – that’s essentially what he’d been trying to do. Bold of him to claim he could be patient.

You were in the shower together and you knew Joe was just trying to say nice things by ways of comforting you, probably. You hoped that was what was going on. But he was getting it so wrong.

“But…” you started, trying to both make sense of what Joe meant whilst simultaneously thinking of how to tell him he was dead wrong. “I’m right here.”

And you had been.

Joe was the one that left.

You remembered Joe telling you, “Yea, you’re not going anywhere.” in a tender moment when you were trying your best to comfort him for a change, and you’d reacted the same then. Of course you weren’t going to go anywhere. You were there.

Always there.

“I’m right here.”

Joe blinked a couple of times, and looked a little lost, face blank and unassuming.

“I’m right– Joe, what do you mean, you’ll wait? Have we not been– is this not what we’ve been…”

Doing?

You couldn’t finish the sentence and furrowed your brow at how words seemed to escape you, all earlier bravery gone, because it sounded a lot like a big confession that you’d not vocalized before, and what if you were wrong?

What if Joe was going to tell you that, actually, no, what you were saying was not what you had been doing at all, you stupid bitch.

He wouldn’t say that.

But that’s what it would feel like if you were wrong.

Your brain was swimming, thinking thoughts and trying to draw conclusions where there weren’t any to be drawn when suddenly, it all clicked into place for Joe.

He was such an idiot.

Before you knew what was happening, Joe had you shrieking. He’d bent at the knees, got both arms around your waist and picked you up. It was a cute celebratory thing, because whatever you’d said had been all Joe had wanted to hear for weeks. But it was also really fucking terrifying, because you were in a wet slippery bath and you both had wet slippery bodies and the only way Joe was centering his gravity was by his face that was smushed against your chest and this was exactly how sometimes people got bad concussions.

“Joe–” you squeaked from your throat, and you were about to swear at him. Tell him to put you down. That he was a fucking idiot. That he was stupid and that this was dangerous, despite the smile that was already playing at your face.

But then before you could get any of that out, Joe let you slip down and kissed you hard, right on the mouth. Your back bent away from him and had you disappear into the shower stream, but Joe just followed, hands squeezing your sides and his lips roughly pressed to yours, not willing to break contact.

You tried wrapping your head around how you got from trying your best not to cry to being kissed in the way that you were, already feeling drunk on the giggles you were swallowing, and it felt a little ridiculous.

And then Joe spoke through his kisses and said words you didn’t think you would ever accept from him.

“I love you.”

But actually, it was fine.

You were surprised how easily joy bubbled up from deep inside your gut at hearing him mumble his confession. You couldn’t help the smile that pulled at the corners of your mouth, but Joe kept his mouth right there.

“Joe,” you pushed him at the shoulders, and instead of moving away, Joe decided to move closer, feet squeaking against white acrylic. You got cornered until your back touched the tiles and you laughed as you turned your head to break the kiss.

Joe just followed, curled around and got you from the side and, “Joe!” you giggled, because there was water streaming straight into your face, and you knocked one of the shampoo bottles down into the bath, and Joe kept hogging your mouth and you needed that to breathe and– oh.

Joe was hard.

You felt it against your hip and Joe felt how it startled you slightly.

“No, I’m sorry. Ignore that,” you could hear how there was laughter stuck inside of his voice too, but there was something urgent there too.

“I love you. Did you hear me?” he bent to make eye contact, got your chin into his hand to force it. “I love you. I said I love–”

“I love you too.”

The wet words slipped out before your brain could even catch up to it, voice way softer than Joe’s, but you didn’t mean the words any less.

Somehow it was an easy thing to say. It helped that Joe said it first, so you were just parroting which didn’t feel half as embarrassing as you imagined it could have been.

Your words stilled Joe’s whole body, just for a moment, completely frozen, and then he groaned with both eyes squeezed shut and let his head fall, face first into your shoulder.

You grinned when you looked down and saw the direct effect of what you’d said.

Made you want to say it again.

“I love you too,” you made it sound extra breathy that time, not even sure if Joe would be able to hear it over the shower water clattering into the bath, but you could tell he caught the words fine from the way Joe’s knees gave out for a split second, dick jumping and already leaking.

You loved Joe.

“Hey, I love you. Did you hear me? I said I lovemmpf–” Joe got a hand over your mouth just for the sheer agony of what it was doing to him. You took your shot and bit right into his fingers as you smiled.

“Stop it, you’ve got to– you can’t–”

Joe didn’t get the chance to finish the sentence. You got him back in the best way; with wet kisses and with scraping teeth. With hands in his hair that you used to push him right against your face. With a leg that hiked itself up until your knee touched his hip, prompting Joe to get his hands under your ass, lifting you up and pushing you against the wall in an attempt to slip inside.

But all of it was too slippery.

Too wet.

And you were laughing too much to make it work.

So you kissed, with both feet sort of steady in the bath and let your hands touch bits of Joe that made him flinch.

You were sharing your first shower together, and it felt sort of momentous.

“I love you,” Joe said again like they were the only words he knew how to use now, dragging his lips down your throat, pressing kisses to your chest.

“I love you, too,” you replied, biting your teeth into your bottom lip whilst working both hands on him, using one underneath and making Joe gasp.

Joe kept trailing down more until he kneeled and you lost your grip on him. Without warning he pressed his whole face into you, and both your hands found his shoulders as you worriedly tried pushing him back.

“No, Joe,” you pushed until you could look him in the eye. “Stop, baby, you’ll drown.”

Baby.

Joe looked up at you and quirked his eyebrows as he smirked, both because you’d never called him baby before and because of the double entendre.

You meant that Joe could drown because you were in the shower and if his mouth was busy, surely he would end up inhaling the water that ran down your body until he’d fucking choke.

Joe, however, took it to mean something else.

And he wasn’t exactly wrong, either.

“I mean…” he started, making eye-contact with what was right in front of him. Pretty. Glistening. Dripping. Joe was about to say some stupid shit aloud, was about to say that he loved her, maybe even just as much as he loved you, because, Jesus Christ, he really fucking did.

“I’ll happily drown in you.” he got a small kiss in where he wanted to so desperately kiss you, but then you laughed and said, “No. No drowning today.” as you sunk down to your own knees, joining him sat down in the tub.

Joe easily accepted you, hands finding yours to help you down safely, happy to oblige and move to where you wanted him to be, which was sat on his arse where the water hit him overhead.

With his eyes barely open, he grinned widely as you moved to sit on his lap, one knee either side of him, arms slung around his neck. It was a tight fit and skin squeaked against the side of the tub. Joe thought that surely this couldn’t actually be nicer than him getting mouth on you, but, sure.

Your pace, remember?

Your lead.

“I love you,” you mouthed as you went in for open-mouthed kisses which Joe happily accepted, pulling you into him hard, trapping himself in between the two of you and starting quick little tilts of his hips. You helped by finding a rhythm of your own, rubbing over him and holding Joe as close as you could to add pressure where he was so clearly looking for it.

“I love you,” Joe breathed in reply, and they were barely even words at this point. Just wet vowels falling from a gasping mouth that tried telling you how good this already felt, and that he wasn’t even inside yet.

Joe’s lips tinged just as shiny red as the tip of him, and you weren’t sure if you were working up a sweat more now than you had during your run, but you knew that this activity was much preferred over the other.

When you finally lifted up just slightly more and used your fingers to line Joe up to slip inside, you saw how droplets of water spat from his lips as he mouthed a desperate, “Please.”

Joe didn’t need to beg.

But it was lovely when he did.

Made you stall, just to hear him say it again. Have him ask extra nicely.

You felt how Joe’s grip on your hips strengthened, fingertips digging deeper into your flesh.

“Please, please. Baby, please, can you–”

You sunk down onto him, making him disappear inside of you entirely. The loud moan that escaped you surprised Joe enough to move a panicked hand up to cover your mouth.

That just made you whine louder.

“Shh– shhh–,” Joe trembled through shushes, trying for eye-contact, “You can’t– you... you gotta be quiet. You...” Joe faltered, hand moving to hold you by the side of the face, fingers disappearing into wet strands that were then used to pull you in closer to kiss.

God, he fucking loved you so much.

Could you feel it? Could you feel how anguished he felt that he only had two hands to touch you with? Could you feel how feverish and lightheaded you made him feel? Could you feel how there was a deep craving inside of him that only you could satisfy for him?

He wanted you to feel it.

Feel his love.

Joe wanted you to feel how much he loved you, so he used his mouth where he could, and used his hands where he could, and he imagined how the water running down the two of you was getting rid of all the bullshit.

You were being cleansed of all the bad until there’d be only good left.

You were having sex in the bath until it’d be nothing but just love there.

You rode Joe in the bath until your knees starting hurting too much. Until the water than ran down both your faces became too annoying. Until your hands knocked all the other bottles of shampoo and conditioner into the bath behind Joe. Until Joe got too freaked out that he couldn’t shut you up, and wasn’t that an insane contrast to whatever he had been trying to do the night before?

You hadn’t minded Joe trying to get you to be loud.

But Joe trying to get you to stay quiet was infinitely better.

It made you want to be bratty about it. Be loud on purpose. Get those eyes to flare and bulge, wet lips shushing you, but otherwise doing nothing else to stop you from feeling good. Because ultimately, that’s all Joe wanted; for him to be the one to make you feel good.

When Joe came, he made a sticky mess of the side of the bath.

When you came, you made a sticky mess of Joe’s fingers.

You kissed for a while after then, stood up out of the direct surge of water, and you loved this. Loved kissing Joe as your brain slowly found its way back to reality. It was all soft touches and slow movements and a terrible waste of water, but you fucking loved it.

When you thought Joe reached behind to finally turn the shower off, you found he instead reached for a bottle of shampoo.

“Turn around.”

Joe made sure you felt it.

Felt how fucking loved you were.

Massaged your scalp with love in his finger tips.

Rinsed your hair out with love in his palm.

Towel dried you after with love in his arms.

You had never felt this taken care of before, and when Joe reached for your hairbrush, he was surprised to turn back and find two wet shimmering eyes staring back at him in the large still slightly fogged-up mirror.

“Hey,” he curled an arm around your front and you let a wet chuckle escape you. “You okay? What’s going on with you right now?”

You shrugged and felt silly as you looked at each other via the mirror. Joe pressed a kiss against your ear, and you managed to squeak out, “I don’t know, just love you, I guess.”

That made Joe push his forehead to the side of your skull as he bit his lips into his mouth.

“Oh no,” he softly said, wincing slightly before you could see him smile. The effect of those words hadn’t just gone and changed within the last hour, so it seemed.

“I love y–” you were cut off by a louder groan as Joe bent down, hinging at his hips, pushing his head into your ribs and you couldn’t help but laugh as you let your arm scratch up and down his back.

“Maybe,” Joe breathed, eyes squeezed shut for a second in a bid to recompose himself. “Maybe don’t use those words for right now.”

“Got it.” you nodded. “No talking.”

That made Joe turn his head enough to see you smile in the mirror. Joe hadn’t just spent all morning to make you talk only for you to

“All right, no. That’s not what I said, I–” Joe moved to stand up straight again, and you saw your chance to make him double over again.

“I love you.”

“You– hnngg,” Joe had to turn and lean both elbows on the sink, head dropped down, having real trouble finding his breath.

“Tell you what,” you started, smile unable to be swiped from your face, and you grabbed Joe by his shoulders. “I’ll go make breakfast. Throw that pizza into the oven. We’ll have it on the sofa and then you can brush my hair after, all right?” you pressed a small kiss to his shoulder blade and wanted to say it again, just for fun, but decided you’d probably tortured him enough.

You tapped a shoulder to which Joe hummed and then went to leave the bathroom, turning around and unlocking the door.

“Hey,” Joe stopped you just before you walked out, and you looked over a shoulder to make eye contact with him in the mirror once again.

“Love you.” Joe’s constricted voice squeezed out, just because he couldn’t have you tell him three times and not say it back.

You smiled and used a hand to pretend to lock your lips up, making a breathy laugh escape Joe before he let his forehead drop into the crook of his elbow.

Loved you.

Joe loved you and he loved that you loved him. He just needed a minute.

You loved him.

That needed more than a second to acclimate to.

Your love.

He would so happily drown in it, you had no idea.

Perhaps, he should take the lead for just a little while. Make sure he was actually going to survive this.

His lead.

His time, maybe.

His pace, definitely.

But your love.

Always your love.

the end

---

The Taglisted

@ali-in-w0nderland, @alwayslindie, @babybluebex, @capricornrisingsstuff, @chaoticgood-munson,

@choke-me-eddie, @demonsanddemogorgons, @did-it-work, @dirtyeddietini, @djoseph-quinn,

@dolcevit4, @eddies-puppet, @emma-munson, @emotionaldreamer, @everythinghasafacee,

@figmentofquinn, @ghost-proofbaby, @ghostinthebackofyourhead, @hanahkatexo, @harringtonfan4,

@hazelenys, @jewellethief, @joesquinns, @keikoraven, @kennedy-brooke,

@lovelyblueness, @manda-panda-monium, @mandyjo8719, @mexicanfolklore, @munsonluvrr,

@munson-mjstan, @nadixq, @nglharry, @notverywise, @pepperstories,

@phyllosilicate-s, @royale1803, @sherrylyn0628, @sidthedollface2, @solzi1420,

@songforeddiemunson, @sweetberry47, @take-everything-you-can, @thebellenouvelle, @tlclick73,

@werepartnersnow, @winterwakesthewolf, @witchwolflea, @yelyahcardella, @yunirgo

taglist currently full, sorry

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

MDZS x Firefly AU: A ragtag crew.

[crowliphale]

worg (flags: kremy is demisexual & demiromantic, frost is demiromantic, gideon is bi)

[galdrgobrrr]

I find it endlessly fascinating how much Alhaitham outside of his character stories is portrayed as someone solely defined by the present. He never mentions his family ever. You don’t even know he’s an orphan unless you read them, or even that his grandma was such a pivotal figure in his life (and inspired some of his current views). He’s so divorced from his past you could be convinced he just popped into existence one day with no fuss.

[dykedvonte]

I genuinely don't think Curly would be as caring for Jimmy as some people depict him in aus where Jimmy gets stuck and burned rather than Curly.

I feel like the realization would truly hit in that moment of what Jimmy did and how bad it was as Curly desperately tries to get him out of the cockpit. He's trying to break in to save Jimmy, but is he? All the thoughts in his head; Jimmy's trying to kill them all, Jimmy's trapped in the cockpit, Jimmy raped Anya, Jimmy's going to die trapped in the cockpit, Jimmy trying to kill them all because of what he did to Anya, and sort of a final Jimmy did this. Is he trying to save him or trying to figure out why? Trying to finally make him take accountability? You can't hold trial for a dead man. Does he want Jimmy to die? Not really, but it'd be easier than figuring out where they go after this. After they drag him out and get his set up in medical and Jimmy refuses to look at anyone but him.

He's the only one who is truly willing to care for Jimmy. I don't think he's keeping him alive for the same reasons, just he can't bring himself to put him down. He wants answers, he wants to be mad. This is the first time he can talk to Jimmy and not have anything spun back at him but he can't get a response. He's never really been able to but for the first time Jimmy actually has to listen and he'll never know if he's actually listening to him this time. It reminds him too much of not understanding Anya. Anya has to care for him and he doesn't want her too, she shouldn't have to but they can't just let him die, can they? Should they? It's easier than hearing him in pain but that's a reminder he did this... even if Curly allowed it to happen.

No one seems to have thoughts on it but him and Anya. They know the reason he crashed the ship but they don't get the logic. Anya does actually, but Curly has to admit he does to. Has to admit he's always known Jimmy's logic behind things, things that need to be "fixed" but he's always taken responsibility and fixed it himself. The first time he really let Jimmy take responsibility and he couldn't, he can't fix anything and Curly know he can't either. He looks at Jimmy and sees every mistake but now he's wondering how many of Jimmy's he's been tacking on to his own. How different are they?

What should he had done to stop it? Maybe this should've happened to him...

Curly doesn't like those thoughts and how they only come when he's stuck with Jimmy, like he's always done to himself. He's way too gentle when he gives Jimmy his pills, too mindful of teeth that always gave him hollow smiles. A tongue that always told half truths, while he held his own. He holds his jaw too kindly and thinks about all the times he's clenched his and smiled for his friends sake. For Jimmy's sake. Jimmy still swallows the pills and struggles, whines like it's not his fault.

He hoped it hurt.

And he's a little scared that he's a little too okay thinking that.

[waitineedaname]

MXTX protagonists ranked by how bad their mommy/daddy issues are

Luo Binghe: absolutely nuclear level of mommy/daddy issues. this is the consequence of giving your protagonist two deadbeat dads and two dead moms, and then letting him project all those issues onto his overly indulgent teacher

Wei Wuxian: he could've had perfectly normal orphan levels of parent trauma, but what's that?? IT'S THE JIANG PARENTS WITH A STEEL CHAIR!!! the combo of fear and respect he had for Yu Ziyuan is already bad enough, but then there's also the feeling of responsibility for the Jiang siblings that they put on him, which then leads to, you know, all the Yunmeng sibling problems

Lan Wangji: this dude is so haunted by his father potentially kidnapping his mother and then locking her up and putting himself in seclusion, and this significantly shapes his relationship with Wei Wuxian. plus he took his mother's death really, really badly :(

Shen Qingqiu: he like never mentions his parents?? which is weird, but at least he's not haunted by it. however, he gets the special privilege of being the person exacerbating someone else's mommy/daddy issues. he brought this on himself. he doesn't get to walk out of a confession involving a metaphor where he'd be pregnant with his partner and act like that's normal

Xie Lian: he definitely has trauma surrounding his parents for sure, but they don't seem to have manifested as specifically mommy/daddy issues? it's just, you know. normal grief. honestly, there's so much shit going on with his trauma and baggage that he can't be defined by this one thing

Hua Cheng: does not seem to care about his parents?? at all???? he's presumably an orphan and they're probably the origin of his self worth issues, but like. in the grand scheme of things, they do not seem to be that big of a concern for him. who needs mommy issues when you have devotion to dianxia i guess

[heyriel-art]

Activates critterifictaion beam (WIP)

[spotsupstuff]

Gold is often connected to divinity in rl religions. In Buddhism, it indeed symbolizes enlightenment and such, and it is often kept pure in order to not ruin its brilliance. In Tibetan Buddhism, statues are gilded with it and the 5 tonne Golden Buddha statue in Thailand is composed of 18 karat gold, almost fully pure.

Within this world, I like to think that gold has caught the eye of the Anemons in a religious sense upon the (,,re/")discovery of the Void Sea. The golden waves of it shaped the perception of their world, from explaining the sun as coated in a layer of Void, to giving an idea of what "cleanliness of soul" should look like. Wheel Flowers are also attributed to the Void as sprouts of it, because of their ethereal gold coloration.

The feeling of the divine has however faded when the motivations behind handling of the Void went terribly south, replaced by the extremist corruption and greed of High castes.

In other words, I wanted an excuse to draw Euros as a šarkan/змей.

[isuggestforcefem]

https://www.tumblr.com/isuggestforcefem/782383791093301248?source=share

What about intersex people? Their relationship with their agab can be a lot more complicated.

In some cases, intersex people start developing traits opposite of their agab, usually when they hit puberty. If they took steps towards preventing their body into developing into something they don't want, wouldn't that be the same as transitioning?

In other cases, intersex people might have different genitalia from what they're expected to have. I'm not aware of how gender is assigned in these cases, but if they tried to align the mismatched pieces of themselves with their agab, would they still be cis? Even if they started taking hormones or got surgeries to become who they wanted to be?

They'll often face the same experiences and obstacles as trans people, regardless of whether they align with their agab or something else. Especially in the case of intersex people, who don't align with the sex "binary," their agab is often just a word on a document to try and categorize them in a system that doesn't make the effort to acknowledge their existence.

Shouldn't we let them decide whether or not they were transitioning, rather than defining them as "not really trans" for trying to be their agab? Shouldn't their own experiences and feelings about what they went through give them the validation to define themselves?

Well you see generally if you take steps to align yourself with your assigned gender you’re probably cis.

[batfambrainrotbeloved]

Tim planned for just about everything except his siblings now taking Damiens (somewhat justified) paranoia seriously. Also them being equally paranoid and feeding eachothers fire-

[icallhimjoey]

Reinvent Love

♥ ♥          Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader 

Summary: You and Joe are treading new waters. You’re no longer flatmates, but still close. More than friends, but nothing defined. Nothing labeled. Determined to not lose what you have, though. But, can you?

CW / disclaimer: rpf, fem!reader, language, adult themes, jealousy, accusations, soft fluff, season 3 of my flatmate!joe

Author’s note: the first cracks; they're here - and, again, you don’t need to have read define close or explain us, but it’ll obviously give you backstory, which might help!

Wordcount: 3.6K

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

It was silly. Joe was being silly.

He knew it, and felt so stupid for it. Like, in hindsight, the worrying felt so dumb. The constant milling shit over didn’t change anything, there was no real point to it. Although, maybe you being on his mind in this... new manner was what summoned you last night.

You just showed up, talking about a crazy day, no sad pouts, no needy touches. Just jittery movements and a lot to tell him.

Joe kind of sat back on his sofa, spread out and leaning into his left elbow and watched you pace around his lounge. Something about something a colleague had said that then turned out to be lies and you found out something by overhearing a phone call you weren’t meant to overhear – Joe was barely following along. Didn’t really try his best to, if he was honest.

He was moreso paying attention to what you were actually doing – were you even aware that you had started grabbing random things he had left lying around on his coffee table, on the kitchen island, on the counters, and one by one, put everything away where it was meant to go?  

Joe pursed a smile as he realised you knew exactly where everything went. Why did that make his chest ache in the best of ways?

This new casual form of intimacy seemed so small, but Joe felt how it smothered that little grain of doubt that resided in his chest. That little grain that had convinced him that you were probably going to fall into a new routine with your new flatmate after he moved in and, then you would probably grow close to him and Joe knew how you... no.

No.

He couldn’t think that.

It wasn’t fair on you. He caught himself trying to finish the thought a lot, but he knew it wasn’t fair. Wasn’t true. He didn’t even fully believe it. It was this thing. Still, he also couldn’t help how it simultaneously made him grow a little more possessive and made him want to prepare for the worst.

But, she was here, he had to remind himself.

She’s here.

And she was wandering around his space, letting her train of thought flow freely from her brain into his living room and he used to witness this all the time when you lived together still. Joe realised he’d actually missed it a lot, and wasn’t that the whole point? That he got to miss you now?

God, Joe missed you a lot and you were right there and he could just burst at the seams at how fucking lucky he felt.

He was a just normal guy in a normal flat with a normal relationship– well, normalish relationship, anyway. Not that you had talked about anything yet. Of course you hadn’t. But it was pretty fucking obvious what this was. So he had started shrugging whenever someone would ask if you were actually together, which felt a lot better than the forever, “No, we’re flatmates, what are you talking about?” he used to throw at people, practically gaslighting them out of whatever they thought they’d witnessed between him and the girl that he used to live with.

It was working. The plan he had made, this vague idea of normalcy; it was working out the way he had wanted it to.

And yea, sure, you were getting a new flatmate and Joe had a difficult time not feeling some type of way about that, but, he had made the decision to move out and, look at you now.

“Do you think I can get a raise out of this? Or at least get a weird bonus, mid-term?”

Joe had a hard time not laughing at your question as he saw you had already mentally moved onto something else. You were stood in the middle of the room, both hands on your hips, eyes scanning the room. Everything tidy and organised.

“Joe, when did you last clean?”

Joe followed your gaze up into one of the corners of the ceiling.

“I cleaned today.” Joe said, knowing you’d likely not take it as an honest answer. You had lived together, remember? No fucking way was Joe ever going to feel the urge to maybe sometimes swipe a feather duster across the upper corners of his living room.

You shuddered at the thought of what resided behind his curtains there.

You sighed and tutted and turned back to Joe’s kitchen like you were going to start cleaning his fucking ceilings at half past ten at night.

“Hey, no. No, no. Stop. Will you come sit down a second? My god.” Joe huffed, feigning annoyance. When you turned on your heel and giggled as you scurried over, Joe let a laugh escape his throat just before you let yourself fall into the cushions next to him.

He hooked an arm around your neck to pull you in so he could press his nose into your cheek a second. You gladly let him, and when he held you close like that for longer than you initially thought he would, you suddenly realised you’d just been talking about yourself for twenty minutes straight.

Just barged in with unimportant thoughts on your mind that you just verbally vomited right into Joe’s space. You knew it was mostly nervous energy that was only there because your new flatmate picked up his keys earlier, which now meant there was every opportunity for someone to just... walk into your flat at any given time. That had unexpectedly brought on way more anxiety than you previously thought it would do.

Hence why you decided to just... escape it, and went over to Joe’s to spend the night there.

Joe was pressing his nose into your cheek and held you in place for a bit before he moved his head down, hiding into your neck a second.

“You okay?” you asked softly, head tilting down a bit.

“Mm, yea, fine.” Joe inhaled deeply, before pressing a few small kisses to the crook there and moving back to look at you the in eye. He unhooked his elbow from around your neck and placed two cupped hands on either side of your face, swiping bits of hair back in the process.

Joe was leant all the way back into the sofa, head squished in between two of the back cushions and you took a moment to look at each other. Joe studied your face and rubbed his thumbs across the apples of your cheeks until you grew shy.

“You look tired,” you softly said before Joe sat up a little and leant closer. It had you close your eyes just before scrunching up your nose as he kissed the very tip of it.

“I am tired.” He mused, copying your nose scrunch when you blinked your eyes open again, and Joe looked so soft. Sort of pleased with life, happy to be where he was and like he’d just had a really good productive day. He blinked slowly, eyes only half open, and looked sleepy enough to slip right into dreams the second his head would hit his pillow.

You loved him like this. His hands on you, all soft touches. Comfy and cosy and calm. Just you and him. No one else. No threat of someone randomly walking in.

This was perfect.

“Mmm, me too.” You smiled and let Joe grab one of your elbows to pull an arm across his stomach as he sat back again.

“I’m not surprised. You’ve just done a 5K as you tidied this room, I think.”

You huffed a laugh as you sank into Joe’s side, and then you sat like that in silence for a moment. No TV on. No phones in sight for some easy distraction. Just you and Joe and the view of his living room.

“Are you okay?” Joe suddenly asked, emphasis on the you, and you tried hiding the small, hitched intake of breath by quickly nodding and casually going, “Yea. Fine.”

You could feel how Joe tucked in his chin to look at you.

He waited. Wasn’t going to tell you, “No, be honest...”, but also wasn’t going to accept it and move on. It was still like that. He knew you were lying, and you knew he knew, no words shared at all.

So you sighed and took a second, and then said, “Josh picked up his key today.”

And you didn’t want to explain what that meant.

Didn’t want to tell Joe that, for a while, this existing-in-two-flats thing had just felt like a bit of a joke. Just the two of you playing and being silly about whatever you really were. You still sort of thought of him as a flatmate because he still came over all the time, and you went over to his all the time too. You existed in the same space almost just as much as before, sort of.

But now a new flatmate was actually moving in, and suddenly, it felt like reality had slapped you right across the cheek like it had done that day that Joe moved out.

You’d gotten to hide away for a lot of that.

And there was no real hiding this time around.

You couldn’t go home and pretend Joe was going to move back in eventually, because now Josh’s things were going to be all over the flat. Which was fine. Josh signed a lease. His things were allowed to be all over the place.

It was just... things were getting real now.

Shit was real.

“Which reminds me,” you suddenly piped up, pushing uncomfortable thoughts down, tucking those away for another time and place. “This is going to save you some money!”

You saw how Joe’s mouth slowly stretched into a smile as he watched how his own feet rubbed against yours. Then he caught himself and quickly furrowed his brow, saying, “No, I don’t think it works like that.”

You copied his expression, but were more confused than anything else.

“Of course it does. Josh signed the papers, he’s going to start paying rent now, you–”

“I said that I had taken care of things, didn’t I?” Joe interrupted you, fingers playing with the folds in your sleeve of the arm that rested over his stomach. “Can’t just not keep a promise like that.”

You blinked at him a second, then moved to sit up to stare at him harder. If both Joe and Josh paid rent, that basically meant that you... got to live for free for a while? That math wasn’t mathing. One plus one wasn’t equalling two here. You looked around Joe’s flat and tried to think of his own expenses, and... what the fuck was he doing?!

“Joe,”

“You’re not going to be able to talk me out of this.”

“Joe.”

Joe ignored you and faked a yawn, sped it up along with stretched out arms above his head and quickly said, “So tired. Bed?” before getting up and leaving you on his sofa as he left the room.

“You’re insane if you think I’m just going to accept that!” you called after him and heard him laugh from down the hall.

“Did you not just say you were after a weird mid-term bonus?”

And you hated how that made you smile. Made you punch one of the cushions and sink your teeth into your bottom lip begrudgingly as you forgot to breathe a second.

Joe smiled to himself too as he turned on the lights in his bathroom. It felt like he was winning a contest - there was no contest, no one to fight, not really, but, he was definitely winning.

“You coming?”

Breathe.

Calm down.

You could pretend to fight him on this once more in the morning.

Crawling into bed with Joe had its own little routine which was different from the one at yours. Different order of things, because the lay out of the flat was different.

Bathroom first. You brushed teeth together, always had to stop Joe when he washed his face too aggressively and then used your own moisturiser on him. “Just for your dry patches,” you’d always say, but would end up swiping delicate fingertips all over anyway. There’d be a snarky comment, of you using too much, of him feeling too greasy, of how he was going to stick to his pillow all night now, and then you’d always kiss him to shut him up before moving on to do your own skincare routine.

When you’d get into bed, Joe would already be in there, giving his phone a last once-over before he’d scoot down and get comfortable.

This time, however, when you walked into his bedroom, the lights were already off, and it looked like Joe was already falling asleep.

This soft man.

So sleepy.

He was all messy curls and bare arms, duvet tucked under them, curled up right in the middle of his bed. You slid in and cuddled up right behind him, hips against his bum, chest to his back.

You were right.

Joe was already falling asleep.

You pushed a leg in between his for warmth and snuck an arm around his front.

“You’re crazy,” you whispered into the skin of his shoulder which prompted Joe to grab hold of your hand and pull it into his chest so you were hugging him properly. The big spoon to his small one. Then he just hummed as you pressed a small kiss to his warm skin there.

“So crazy.” you nuzzled into his pillow, your nose rubbing his back as you did, and you felt how he ducked his head down to press a small kiss to your fingers.

You fell asleep warm, comfortable, and smiling.

You woke up in the same way.

Just on your stomach now, and with Joe’s heavy limbs slung over your body. When you turned over, it woke Joe up, and for five blissful early morning minutes, you tried crawling into each other’s skin as best you could. Breathed each other’s breath and tasted each other’s skin. Stroked hands underneath clothes and had fingers crawling into underwear, just to touch and to hold.

When you quietly asked if Joe wanted coffee, he groaned and told you to shut up. He was able to feel you giggle to that, and he could cry with how happy he felt in that moment. Why would you have to go and ruin it by getting up to go and make coffee?

“Five more minutes.”

“Mmm... it’s never just five.”

Joe sighed, “Just five.” speech slurring with early morning drowsiness and then burrowed himself into you even more.

And fine.

Joe could have five more minutes.

But then they easily turned into twenty, because they always did, and you had to eventually bribe Joe with breakfast for him to let you go so you could sit up.

“If you take a slow shower, I’ll have it ready when you finish.” You looked over your shoulder where Joe, still with his eyes closed, smiled widely. His nose was slightly red from pressing it into your skin, and his bedhead made you have to suppress a giggle that you hid by leaning down to press a kiss to his forehead before you got out.

Joe barely even felt that little grain of bad in his chest when he thought of how much he loved you.

Because he did.

Joe fucking loved you.

There was going to be a moment soon where he was just going to have to say it. It was going to spill out of him in some other way if he wouldn’t simply use the words, he just knew it.

Joe loved you as he watched through squinty eyes how you reached for a pair of white socks of his to borrow.

Loved you as he watched you pull one of his old sweaters over your head before you walked out, bare legs still on show.

Loved you when he stepped into his living room after his shower to the smell of burnt toast and scrambled eggs and coffee.

Loved you as he watched you step onto a chair in the corner of his room, wet dishcloth in hand to remove the strings of dust you had scolded him over the night before.

Loved you as he felt what the sight of your stretched body, your bare tighs, and the little peep of your bum did to him inside of his boxers.

Loved you as he groaned and let his head fall onto the counter, having to breathe through it, because you were just cleaning his living room, and not giving him a sensual striptease act or whatever.

Loved you as you looked back over your shoulder, raising your eyebrows in surprised confusion before accusingly asking, “Really, Joe? Cleaning?”

Loved you as he stutteringly defended the blood rush down south by saying, “You have no idea what you look like right now.” into his elbow where he had to hide his face for a second.

Loved you, loved you.

He was hardly able to deny any of it.

And he didn’t feel that he had to, either.

Because, you were there. In his flat. In his clothes. Cleaning his dusty ceiling corners. And wasn’t that just something he wanted to tell the whole fucking world about?

That small little green grain of doubt and worry and negativity dried out and got no sunshine to really grow into anything. Thank fuck.

He got to ignore it for a while.

Forgot about it entirely, and pretended it wasn’t even there for a bit.

It was easy.

Joe loved you.

He knew he did.

Would tell you soon.

Didn’t know how.

Or where.

But he was going to say it.

He was going to use his words because he was just a normal guy who loved a normal girl and you weren’t being weirdly secretive about what you got up to in private. At least, not how you used to be, anyway.

Joe loved you.

You brought Joe flowers and cleaned his ceiling and wore his clothes and cooked his breakfast.

Joe loved you, even though your new flatmate Josh turned out to be impossibly good-looking in addition to being incredibly kind as well, so Joe didn’t even get to have a real reason to dislike him at all, which seemed unfair, but, all right.

Joe loved you, even when suddenly two shiny black acoustic guitars appeared on your living room wall, because Josh worked in music, and wasn’t that just so cool?

Joe loved you, even though his very first thought after that was, well I know how to play guitar too, don’t I?! which you had never even mentioned before.

Joe loved you, even when he walked into your flat one evening and interrupted a dinner you were having with Josh and one of your friends and, look, Josh cooked for us, and for the first time ever, he felt uninvited and intruding.

Joe loved you, even when your friend jokingly said, “You’re over here at lot for someone that moved out.” right to his face, to which you then heartily laughed, because she was only joking, Joe, and then you didn’t say anything about how you were together, but, you were together... weren’t you?

Joe loved you, even when he stuck to the bit and handed you his flat key like he always did, expecting to find it in his coat pocket later, but then ended up finding both his pockets empty when he went home the next morning, which, yea actually, that made sense, because Josh lived there now, and it was a little weird to have a key still, wasn’t it?

Joe loved you, even when you had told him to come over on Friday evening because you’d had a shit day at work, and for the first time ever, he had to ring the doorbell to get inside.

Joe loved you, even when Josh was the one that answered the door, and Josh almost didn’t let him in, telling him, “Oh, she’s fallen asleep on the sofa, mate.” to which Joe just smiled as he stepped around him, because what the fuck did Josh even know about falling asleep on the sofa in this flat?

Joe loved you, even when he found you asleep on the sofa, curled up under a blanket he’d never seen before, with an empty pizza box bar some crusts still on the coffee table, and you never ate a whole pizza yourself, so that was obviously shared with someone else.

Joe loved you.

He knew he did.

But there was a playstation besides the TV now, and a cool record player on the side, pile of vinyl next to it, and, God.

Joe fucking hated this.

Whatever was inside of Joe’s chest, that thing he didn’t even want in there, was growing.

Was getting fed without Joe even fully realising he was feeding it.

He hated those guitars. He hated that he no longer had a key. He hated that stupid blanket. And he hated that empty pizza box.

Still, he sat down beside you and placed your socked feet onto his lap. Watched the last scenes of whatever film you’d put on as he slowly kneaded a foot and let you sleep, and he tried his best to not get bitten. To not let it sink its teeth in. To not let it hurt.

It was silly.

Joe was being silly.

Rational thought saved him.

Rational thought told him he still loved you.

And he hoped rational thought was going to be enough.

---

The Taglisted

@ali-in-w0nderland, @alwayslindie, @babybluebex, @capricornrisingsstuff, @chaoticgood-munson,

@choke-me-eddie, @demonsanddemogorgons, @did-it-work, @dirtyeddietini, @djoseph-quinn,

@dolcevit4, @eddies-puppet, @emma-munson, @emotionaldreamer, @everythinghasafacee,

@figmentofquinn, @ghost-proofbaby, @ghostinthebackofyourhead, @hanahkatexo, @harringtonfan4,

@hazelenys, @jewellethief, @joesquinns, @keikoraven, @kennedy-brooke,

@lovelyblueness, @manda-panda-monium, @mandyjo8719, @mexicanfolklore, @munsonluvrr,

@munson-mjstan, @nadixq, @nglharry, @notverywise, @pepperstories,

@phyllosilicate-s, @royale1803, @sherrylyn628, @sidthedollface2, @solzi1420,

@songforeddiemunson, @sweetberry47, @take-everything-you-can, @thebellenouvelle, @tlclick73,

@werepartnersnow, @winterwakesthewolf, @witchwolflea, @yelyahcardella, @yunirgo

taglist currently full, sorry

[clumsypuppy]

doodles of my fav sillies

anton belongs to @poicyss

[lovesickeros]

☆ de fontaine

{☆} characters furina {☆} notes cult au, imposter au, drabble, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings angst, suicidal thoughts, hurt / no comfort {☆} word count 1.4k

This wasn't fair. This wasn't fair. This wasn't fair!

She thought, for one moment, she could put the mask down and breathe – for one moment of daydreaming, she thought she could just be Furina. She thought she would finally get to live the live she should've had in the first place, the life she threw away to play God to an audience who saw her as nothing but a circus animal, dancing to their whims. Furina just wanted to be selfish for one brief and fleeting moment..and it was gone before she could even grasp it in her hand. A comet soaring past far out of her reach.

She can barely keep her hands from violently shaking as she looks down at them – broken and bloody and more a corpse then a person – and she feels so numb she can't even feel the rain pelting against her back. None of this is fair, she wants to scream, why is it always me? But her voice is silent beneath the torrent of rain. She wonders if the ocean would take her if she sank into it's depths – just for a moment, she wonders how it would feel to finally be able to sleep at ease.

Furina is tired.

But Furina is nothing if not useful, isn't she?

So she forces her feet to move, dragging against the stone beneath her heels, and drags their bloodied body into the nearest empty building, letting the rain do the work of washing away the smeared blood following her path. The smell makes her feel sick, the feeling of it sticking to her hands and gloves makes her lightheaded, but she persists. Because Furina is useful, because Furina won't let them die out in the rain, because Furina won't stand by and just let them rot on the streets like some..pest.

Furina wants to go home. She wants to sleep and she isn't she if she wants to wake up, this time. But she keeps going anyway.

Because it's all she's ever done, and the habit sticks.

An Archon she may not be, not anymore, but the expectations of five hundred years still linger like eyes on the inside of her skull. They watch her, pry and prod at her thoughts, mocking laughter and judging eyes following her as she forces herself to dance to the song they weave with glee. Furina never stepped off that stage – she's still there, she thinks, watching the crowd stare at her in disdain as the curtain call looms above her like a guillotine. She still hears Neuvillette deliver her damnation and salvation with a trembling voice, still feels her hair stand on end when electro crackled like the crack of the whip, Clorinde's blade aimed at her like a loaded gun.

She's trapped on that stage and she never left, not really.

She hates it. She thinks she hates them, but it's not their fault. They didn't ask for this, didn't ask for everyone to turn against them, didn't ask for her to save them. Neither did she..yet here they are, she thinks.

She tries to tell herself she's in control this time, though. She can stop performing her part in this horrible, bloody play any time she wants. It makes her feel better, just for a little while, if she convinces herself she's still Furina, painfully human.

And Furina has always been good at lying.

It's the believing that's the hard part.

There isn't time for her to wallow in her own self pity, though. They're still bleeding out onto the dusty, creaky floorboards of some random, broken down house and she's just standing there as the blood stains the wood. She can fix it – she's good at fixing things. She's done nothing but fix things – try to, anyway – for five hundred years. She can fix a little wound, how hard could it be? Her hands are clenched so tight they ache as she kneels down, wincing at the creak of the floorboards beneath her heels– she hesitates just long enough to wonder if she's making a mistake before she peels away just enough of the outer layer of their clothes to see the deep, bloody gash across their chest. She tries not to think about it – it's deep, too deep, and she feels dizzy just looking at it, but she's handled worse, right?

Furina can fix it. That's what she's good at.

She doesn't feel so confident when she tries to wrack her brain for..something. Five hundred years, and a little wound stumps her? No, she had to have learned something, right? She's decidedly not trying to buy time because she's panicking, parsing through hundreds of years of memories like flipping through a book. Furina isn't made for this, not really – she's running on nothing but adrenaline and she's really not sure what she's doing, but she's trying. And just like before, it won't be enough, will it?

She'll fall short again – she'll be too late to fix it before she's alone again.

Furina was an Archon..used to be. What use would she have for that sort of knowledge? Which makes her predicament all the more harrowing and bleak. What was she supposed to do?

Furina had heard it first hand, that vitriol in Neuvillette's voice. She isn't sure she's ever heard him that..angry before. She's not sure he would listen to her if she tried, either. And that scares her more then anything. All of Fontaine was up in arms about this..imposter, yet here she was, staring down at them bleeding out in front of her, and she was trying to save them.

Why? Why is she throwing away her only chance at normalcy for a fraud? Why didn't she just turn them in?

They were dying – that should've been a good thing, shouldn't it? So why didn't it feel like it?

"Why you?" Her voice breaks as she speaks in harsh tones, grabbing the front of their shirt in trembling, bloodied hands. "Why now?" She wants to scream, to demand answers they can't give, to claw back the reprieve she was promised after five hundred years of agony..and all she can do is sob into their chest, pleading for an answer that will not come. "Why me?"

Silence is their answer, and it hangs heavy on her trembling shoulders as she cries.

Of course they don't, she thinks bitterly, no one has ever answered her pleas spoken in hushed sobs. Not her other self and certainly not them.

Furina has always been alone. Furina will always be alone.

Because Furina never left that stage, never left that moment when she looked at herself in the mirror and took up a mantle too heavy for her to bear. She always finds her way back eventually. There's no one on the other side anymore – she stands alone on a stage, waiting for an inevitable end she isn't sure will come.

"Please," She pleads through tears and choked sobs, clinging to them like they are all that keeps her from sinking. "Please don't leave me, too." The words burn on her tongue – how pathetic is she that she craves companionship from the bloodied body of the imposter? Perhaps she's truly lost her mind after all these years..perhaps she's finally gone mad. She must have.

But their presence is like the first feeling of gentle warmth upon her skin as the sun crests the horizon, like the gentle lap of tides along her heels, the sway of branches and leaves as the wind blows through them like an instrument all it's own. They are the soothing sound of rain against the window as she watches the dreary skies in fond longing, the first bloom of spring as color blooms upon the landscape like paint had been spilled across the hills and valleys.

They are like the faint spark she carefully nurtures and stokes, so fragile even the smallest wind could blow it out like a candle. She cradles it within her palms, pleads with whoever will listen – prays that someone finally listens, because if not for her, then for them.

She's failed to protect too much already, let too many people with so much trust in her fall between the cracks of her fingers like grains of sand. She won't let them go – she can't.

If nothing else, if she couldn't be saved when she begged for salvation from that five hundred year long agony, even if she never got that chance..

Furina will make sure they do.

[askblueandviolet]

With his kiss, can you count it as a love now?

MASTER POST

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[lemedstudent2021]

neomachus yuri save me. neomachus yuri.

save me neomachus yuri. omfg this is whats going to make me lose it

aight so i be stressed and what that usually means is inhumane levels of blorbo angst lol (my moots can confirm ehe) and last night i had the genius idea of hitting the beloveds with the yuri beam :3

i dont even go here but like. the potential. it calls to me. its kinda spamming me but its whatever lol. now i need to go study before throwing myself heart and soul into heart aching queer yearning but i thought id give yall a heads up :] also expect art. i love doodlin girls

--

songs ive decided are them core thus far:

sunflower - rex orange county

why try to change me now - fiona apple

literally every roc song is them to me now lmao. esp best friend

[cowboy-robooty]

im not going to lie i have an illuminati type theory that fanfiction has gotten so fucking bad recently as yet another consequence of the pandemic