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#because frankly I'm too tired for that right now
bisquid · 3 months
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Deer math 2: electric boogaloo
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Assuming the good people of king's landing somehow manage to kill enough deer to reduce the total population by 10% annually (which means they kill 1,500,000 the first year, more than 4,000 EVERY DAY) it would still take twenty years to get the population density to something sensible
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rubys-domain · 9 months
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i might be terrible for feeling like this. but the sheer amount of schadenfreude i have after finding out that freminet is likely going to be a shit unit is through the roof lmao
#⇢₊˚⊹ 🩷∥ruby∥yo,ide yo !!#> from watching the zajef prerelease video on him#so i main chongyun right? that means (despite me trying to minmax even though i know my f2p damage will never measure up to spenders)#i generally don't care if the numbers are bad if a unit feels fun to play#hell even if the character is op i would be 90% less likely to use them if i didn't have fun using them (looking at you kuki)#but his kit looks like i'm not gonna enjoy it too#which leaves me with zero motivation to pull on the childe/zhongli banner now#now to watch zajef's lyney video and see if i get tempted to pull for him or if my primos will be safely stashed away for future banners#yknow. i kinda wish i mained a meta dps. or was inclined to main any of the meta dps's#quite frankly all the meta dps's gameplay bore me to death#i'm not saying this because i'm starting to dislike chongyun#i fully intend to be the most obsessive whale solely to optimize this exorcist boy far beyond the boundaries of reason#(that day is not coming anytime soon but you get the picture right? i'm still very much a ride or die for this lil guy)#i'm just tired of people calling him a shit unit. even on r/popsiclemains ppl call him suboptimal or subpar#i know all of those things are true#but it's not surprising that hearing it basically every single time he's mentioned is going to take its toll eventually either,is it?#this is why i just don't bother trying to be part of any community. with any kind of media,i'm someone whom ppl would say has “bad taste”#i just wish chongyun had a niche but still decent playstyle that he's unarguably the best at#being the best shatter dps is not it since shatter's numbers are basically terrible no matter what you do#if they somehow buff shatter in fontaine (since freminet's kit wants to shatter) then maybe i'll make it my main playstyle. but yeah...#the only times i bring out my shatter team are when fighting against pyro/electro enemies,or farming mushrooms#i guess it'd be nice to have zhongli since layla does disrupt reactions that i want chong to be the one proccing#but i just don't feel like breaking my back for yet another 5 star after how long it took to get kokomi#and he's basically guaranteed a rerun in natlan anyway so yeah...#i'm gonna be honest. now that i have kokomi,my motivation to pull for anyone else is almost nonexistent#maybe nilou so i can use kokomi as a driver. but other than her... unless natlan characters are really fucking cool#besides albedo and venti,i don't think i'll ever pull for a new 5 star ever again#after those three i'd only be pulling for vertical investment#or begrudgingly pulling for utility like zhongli
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5ummit · 1 year
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So there's this post with a troubling number of notes going around insisting that "dead dove" is not a genre, it doesn't inherently have anything to do with darkfic, and that the tag could be applied to fics that are "100% fluffy where everyone's having a good time" if they happen to contain some abnormal (though entirely non-problematic) content like an unusual kink. The claim is that "dead dove: do not eat" is simply a "courtesy tag" that means "this is a very specific niche, mind the tags." And that's just... wrong.
I wrote up a whole rebuttal to this post since I can't stand misinformation and frankly OP was being kinda rude and judgey on top of their wrongness. But right after I posted my reply, OP turned off reblogs because, and I quote, “some fuckwad added some dumb shit onto this post and it is no longer educational” (the “fuckwad” being me and the “dumb shit” being proof that they were wrong). A couple people have asked me to make a rebloggable version of my response, which I've decided to do because this isn't the first time I've heard similar claims and I want to help set the record straight. However, I'm not linking the original post on the off chance this gains traction because OP did the right thing by turning off reblogs, preventing it from circulating further, and I don't want them to get hate for being unfortunately misinformed.
For those who don't know the history, "dead dove: do not eat" was originally proposed as a catchall "hydra trash party" alternative label for any fandom to warn that the content of a fic may be considered problematic or potentially upsetting and to read the tags carefully so you know what you're getting into and won't complain later. Specifically, DD:DNE was intended to convey that the Bad Things in the fic would likely be reveled in and not explicitly condemned by the narrative, which some people tend to get up in arms about, hence the need for the extra warning in addition to the tags. Don't believe me? Here's the original proposal (note DD:DNE can be found on a handful of fics dated before 2015 but this is when it really took off and became a Thing).
There are currently around 50,000 fics tagged as "dead dove: do not eat" on AO3 and close to 50% of those also include the rape/noncon warning (which of course is not the only type of "dead dove" but is one of the most popular and most consistently tagged). The normal percentage of noncon fics in any given fandom? Around 1-3%. That's a HUGE disparity. So don't tell me that dead dove is just a general "courtesy tag" and doesn't or shouldn't have dark connotations. Even the context of the original joke on Arrested Development has a dark undertone. Micheal Bluth casually finds an animal carcass in a bag in his refrigerator with the label "do not eat", as if eating it would be any sane person's first thought. The whole situation is kinda fucked up. And this fucked up vibe very much carries over into fandom usage too, as was intended.
The claim that dead dove has nothing to do with the content's genre and could just as easily be used to describe a 100% fluffy fic in which everyone's having a good time is straight up Wrong, or at the very least, severely warping the original meaning. Also, when someone these days says that they like/dislike "dead dove" most people in fandom automatically understand what that means because of the consistency of its usage over the years and the way language evolves. Whether you like it or not, "dead dove" IS a genre now and the term does carry a specific connotation. I do agree that DD:DNE should definitely still be used in conjunction with other tags, when applicable, to be explicit about the exact type of fucked up content you may find, but to say that the term is meaningless on its own is patently false and I'm tired of people who don't know what they're talking about pushing this narrative and causing even more confusion.
You want a generic term that also means "mind the tags" and doesn't have any inherently dark connotations? Just use good ol' "what it says on the tin" instead of trying to force dead dove to be something it's not.
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seresinhangmanjake · 1 month
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Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader - We Both Know
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Summary: Simon broke up with you but you both know it was a stupid choice.
Notes/Warnings: Stalker-ish Ex!Simon; Soft!Simon; Insecure!Simon (a little bit); some smut (18+), fluff, cursing, typos probably
Words: 1642
He’s here. You know he’s here. Not because you can see him or hear him or feel him—he’s too skilled for that—but because you know Simon Riley like the back of your damn hand. And Simon Riley won’t let you go. He has not proven himself capable of letting you go. Not yet, not fully, and if you can help it, not ever.
When you close the door behind you and kick off your shoes, you don’t bother turning on the lights. You’ve spent nearly two months flipping that switch in your entryway, pretending he isn’t somewhere in your apartment. Two months of going about your nightly routine as if there isn’t an intruder in your home. Two months of ignoring the soft shutting of your front door or window once you’ve settled into bed. But you’re tired of playing this game, and frankly, you miss him—the man; not the ghost who has been haunting you, trailing you, hiding in plain sight.
“You've been watching me,” you announce into the void. 
A handful of beats pass but not for a second do you let yourself believe you’re crazy for attempting to converse with blackness and silence. Then the little cord on your lamp is pulled by thick fingers, illuminating the side of the apartment where he stands. He’s a shadow in the corner of your living room, drenched in black from head to toe, skull-printed balaclava included, and it takes everything in you not to rush to his side, shove that piece of fabric up over his chin, and kiss him.
“You've made it necessary,” he scolds; the first words he has spoken to you in nearly sixty-five days. It’s the longest he has forced you to go without hearing his voice, having been attached at the hip since you met; and having that smooth, deep tone in your ear is like soaking your body in a hot bath, sloughing off the wear and dirt and grime to come out renewed and refreshed.
You nod because you know what you’ve been doing. You’ve known your choices would bring him back to you. You hoped, at least. But you also hoped he would give himself and his stalker behavior up long before you would have to call him out. He’s usually much more possessive when you spend your evenings drinking and freely dancing amongst crowds, and the thought of you flirting with other men has always put him in a sour mood. You thought seeing it up close would make his vision go red, but he's held himself back. However, you suppose him watching and following you from a distance is better than not caring to watch or follow you at all. 
“You're not being safe,” he tells you. 
“You mean I'm doing things you're not happy with.”
Simon doesn't respond to that. He can’t, because you’re absolutely right and he isn’t the type to disrespect you by lying to your face.
“You broke up with me to—what was it—‘live my life’ while you're gone? Do you really have a right to be pissed at me for getting a head start?” you ask as you take steps further into the apartment and toss your purse on the counter. “If that's the case, maybe you should've dumped me a little closer to your deployment date so you wouldn’t have to witness it.”
Now you do feel him. You see him through the mask. He’s bubbling inside, the beginning of a boil, because he made a silly choice and doesn’t like to be reminded of his mistakes. He hasn’t exactly voiced that, specifically, but it’s the truth. It was silly. It’s also the truth—though again, not specifically expressed—that he regretted it the very minute he walked away from you, leaving you in tears because he is the one afraid of what will happen when the two of you face his first deployment in your relationship. He is afraid to come back home expecting a loving welcome only to find disappointment if you’ve chosen to seek out the comfort of another man. So, ‘Don’t let me hold you back, love’’ he’d told you. ‘Live your life, and I’ll figure out what to do with myself.’
Simon groans, grumbles, vibrates the room. He begins to close the distance between you until he thinks better of it and halts beside your couch. “I did it because–”
“Do you miss me?” 
“That is not rela–”
“Do, you, miss, me,” you press.
He swallows hard, Adam’s apple protruding under the balaclava. His fist clenches at his side. You don’t think he's going to give you the satisfaction, but then he sighs and says, “Of course I fucking miss you.”
Your breath catches in your throat and your vision starts to blur at the edges. Those words heal the bits of your heart that he broke when he left.
“Then don’t be stupid,” you say, crossing the room until your chest is nearly pressed against his. You rest your hand on his cheek, or what would be his cheek if not for the mask. “Don't make us spend your last week here apart from one another.”
With another exhale, his shoulders loosen their rigidity, and in that moment you know you have him.
“Fuck me, Si,” you whisper. 
His eyes flick to yours. A flash burns through his irises.
“It'll just make it harder.” That pathetic argument betrays his actions. One of his palms instantly goes to your waist, gently tracing the curve. The gesture is so natural between you you’re not sure if he even knows he’s doing it. 
“I promise it won’t,” you say. 
Then your hands slide along his shoulders to grip his biceps and you slowly turn his body until you can push him into a seated position on the couch. He lets you lead. He lets you staddle his lap. He lets you lift the mask a few inches and connect your lips as you grind your hips down, hardening him within his pants. 
Simon’s fingers squeeze your thighs. They travel to your hips, encouraging your movements, before they continue a path up your spine. With his tongue in your mouth, you lose track of his touch for some time until he’s settled on a placement for his hands. One wrapped around your waist, hugging you tight; the other woven into your hair, holding you in place as his kisses swell your lips, verging on bruising. 
“Come on, baby,” you mutter into his ear when you break the connection to breathe. “Don’t you want to be all warm and snug inside me? Don’t you miss how well you fit? Like my pussy was made for you, right? That’s what you’ve always said.”
You know how it sounds. It’s desperate and needy, but you don’t care. You’re begging, not just for the man who sets your body aflame, but for the man who altered the trajectory of your life when he entered it. The man you refuse to live without. 
“Love–” he starts, but his groan from the nibbles you give to his neck interrupts him. 
“You can rest deep in me for a while if you want. I’ll stay perfectly still for you. Or I can go nice and slow the way you like.”
Moving your head back, you stop the shifting of your hips and lock your gazes. You pointlessly wait for him to deny you. Pointlessly because Simon Riley doesn’t deny you in situations like this. The equal balance of your need for one another has made that impossible, so it doesn’t surprise you one bit when he nods in agreement.
Your thumbs delicately guide the balaclava over his nose, but you stop there. Only he removes the mask. It’s his right; his decision to show his face and to whom. You are one of the lucky ones, but you’ve never taken advantage of that gift. 
With one hand, Simon grips the top of his mask and jerks it the rest of the way off his head—hair sticking out in a million directions—as he sneaks his other between your bodies to undo the button of his pants. He lifts his hips, bouncing you on his lap, before you do the same so he can push his pants down his thighs. 
You don’t spend time marveling at the thick column of flesh he’s pumping with his fist. You know everything about his cock. Every ridge and valley from base to tip. Every vein. Every inch of him you have memorized, and you’re too hungry to waste another second without him where you want him most.
When Simon finally slides inside of you, you hum in satisfied delight. Like basking in the heat of the sun after the chill of Winter. Like the first bite of your favorite ice cream hitting your tongue. Like quenching a thirst. Like coming home. 
Simon’s head falls back against the couch and his chest heaves with heavy inhales and exhales. His eyes are closed, but you catch a hint of a smile on his face.
“We feel so good together, Si,” you say, slowly rubbing your hand up and down his chest. “I want this when you return. Don’t you want this when you return?”
He doesn’t hesitate. “Yes.”
“Then why deprive yourself of what you love? Especially when what you love wants you so bad.”
He lifts his head and reaches up to brush his knuckle from your cheekbone to your chin. “I was trying to make it easier.”
Palms cupping his jaw, you run your thumb over his bottom lip. “Fuck easy.”
“Love, it’ll be a year. No less.”
“I don’t care,” you swear. You start to rise and then you sink back down onto him. “I'll be waiting for you, Simon.”
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starry-bi-sky · 5 months
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I saw a post a few months ago (and damn was it really months? In PLURAL?) that was a cracky dpxdc au where the LOS were making Damian clones but the clones kept getting snatched by ghost portals and dropped into Danny’s lap and Danny just goes “ok ig this is my life now” and takes care of each one until he has his own mini army of Damian Clones.
And I remembered it a few days ago, and now I've been thinking about it again. Because I love clone aus (see: clone danny au, the 'danny is thomas wayne' au) because it itches the part of my mind that loves exploring personhood and the exploration of identity and what it means to be clone.
(What do you do when nothing about you is unique? When your face, your eyes, your hands, your hair, your voice, all the way down to your heart, all belong to someone else?)
(When it comes to nature vs nurture what of you came from your environment and your experiences, and what of you was already programmed into you from the DNA that made you?)
(What do you do to make it unique? What do you do to make you unique?)
And if I could remember who made that post I'd @ them right now because it was their original post that inspired this, but I'm just thinking of if the au only had One Singular Damian clone that fell into Danny's life.
(a read more because im apparently incapable of making posts that are less than 1k words...)
One Damian who knew he was a clone and knew that he was to either bring the original back to base or kill him to take his place, who was being trained the same way but kept getting compared to his original over and over again. Like an older sibling who you can never match up to. Who is still a child who craves adult affection and validation and praise, and can't get it because nothing about him is original.
One Damian who, at six years old, in a twist of fate is sucked through a swirling portal and lands in Amity Park, directly on top of, in front of, or in line of sight of one Daniel Fenton, half-ghost extraordinaire and local hero.
What happens next?
Well, for one, Danny recognizes him immediately. He would recognize the face of Damian Wayne anywhere because his best friend was ranting about him all week about Damian Wayne's environmental stuff he does.
And for two, he would recognize that the Damian Wayne in front of him was not Damian Wayne. Because Damian Wayne was a teenager. And the Damian Wayne in front of him is a child. Six years old.
Getting this not-Damian but also-Damian to go along with Danny is not, not an easy task. The tiny Damian is aggressive, regal, and at this point in time, six years old, barely understanding english. He also has a sword.
It takes all day and a google translator to get this Tiny Damian to finally agree to go home with Danny. It's a miracle. Seriously. A tried and true miracle. And its also only when Danny has to fight a ghost does he finally agree, saying something in arabic that Danny doesn't understand.
Danny flies them both home, carrying Tiny Damian like a koala. The ensuing conversation in his room is not any better. It is tiring, long, and exhausting. Tiny Damian is six years old, and every single thing he says when Danny asks where he came from is met with a poorly translated "that's classified".
Danny keeps an eye on the news. There are no reports of Damian Wayne going missing, in fact he's been rather public. Bruce Wayne is not one to lie about his children going missing, and Damian's secretive behavior and young age draws Danny to one conclusion: Damian is a clone.
He doesn't know why Damian Wayne is being cloned. Frankly he doesn't really wanna know, because whatever organization that did it doesn't seem too pure-of-heart if tiny-Damian's immediate attempt of murder when they first met is of any indication. But he's too busy taking care of his city, that he doesn't have time to deal with whatever shady business Tiny-Damian was produced from.
In the end though, he decides that this Tiny-Damian is not going back to whatever place he came from. Tiny Damian disagrees. It is a long, nebulous problem of Damian trying to run away, Danny catching him, and Danny pulling him back home.
In that time, Danny downloads a language app and starts learning Arabic so that they can talk to each other properly. Damian slowly, slowly, starts picking up English.
In that time, Danny also has to inform his friends and his sister about Damian. Tiny Damian is not a fan of this. That is another argument they have. Tiny Damian does not like Sam or Tucker for a long, long while. He only really "listens" to Danny, citing something in arabic that Danny still cannot understand, but has a repeated use of the word "lieazir". It's the only word that Danny can catch in a sentence immediately, because its what little Damian calls Danny.
Tiny Damian, in that front, is very interested in Danny's powers and in his parents work. He finds tubberware of ectoplasm in the fridge once while they're down in the kitchen and calls it something with the word lieazir in it. The other word is something that Danny later learns means water in arabic.
It makes him feel even more uneasy of whatever place little Damian came from.
It takes weeks for little Damian to finally give up on escaping, and then a few weeks more for him to almost entirely lose his spunk. Danny isn't sure what started it. It was as if he'd been flipped with an off-switch.
(Damian had been so confident that the League would go looking for him after his disappearance. He was wrong, and he is crushed. He is still a child, alone, in a country very big and very busy, where nobody understands what he's saying. He feels powerless, helpless.)
(The lazarus boy who calls himself Danyal is nice to him in a way the league has never been, and he's making an effort to learn Damian's language. But he leaves for hours at a time and Damian doesn't have much else to do but wait in this house for him to come back.)
(He tried leaving, many many times, but he doesn't understand the street signs, the roads, the people. He doesn't know where he is, and he feels scared in a way that he's not felt in the League. Danny finds him every single time, hours later when Damian is lost somewhere in Amity Park)
(And he never yells at him. Never. The first time this happens, Damian puffs himself up and prepares himself for this strange lazarus boy to yell at him. Damian feels like he's tripped on the last step of the stairs when Danyal doesn't yell at him.)
(He can tell he's frustrated by the tone of his voice, but when Danyal lays eyes on him he just looks relieved. He gets scolded on the flight home, but Damian doesn't understand any of it other than Danyal just sounds worried. Not angry. He gets a proper scolding once they get back, with Danyal typing into the google translator and playing it for Damian to hear.)
(This happens every single time until Damian finally agrees to stop running away.)
It's with Jazz's help that Danny finally realizes that Damian was depressed. It's with her help again that Danny tries helping with it. It's like trying to get a stray cat to trust him. And with everything else they've done, it takes a long time.
And it is so, so worth it when it all works out.
Tiny Damian doesn't really like Sam, or Tucker, but he likes Danny. And he finally starts calling him his name. His full name, but his name nonetheless. Danny doesn't bother correcting him. He's not looking a gift horse in the mouth. And it's endearing hearing Damian call him Danyal.
Damian in this time, also begins to take more initiative into learning English. And they teach each other words they know. Danny buys flash cards and writes the english alphabet on them, and then finds a book on arabic to teach himself and Damian. Sam and Tucker and Jazz start learning as well.
And then when Danny knows enough arabic and Damian knows enough english, and Damian trusts Danny, Damian tells him he's a clone. It's a quiet moment, late at night when Danny takes Damian up to the ops center to look at what stars they could see through the light pollution.
It'd be very easy for Danny to tell him, "I know. I could tell from the start.". He doesn't, it's not the time nor the place, and Danny's matured enough to know when to open his mouth and when to keep it shut. He lets Damian, almost seven now, tell him that he's a clone of Damian Wayne. Lets him tell him why he was made, what his purpose was.
(Danny will need a minute later to process the fact that Damian Wayne originally came from some kind of... assassin league with an obsession with immortality. But he's focused on Damian.)
In the end, he puts an arm around Damian Wayne's clone and pulls him into his side. Thanks him for trusting him, it must've been hard to tell him, that he's brave for being able to. And if he wants to, they can find a way to get into contact with the Waynes and let Wayne know about him.
Damian hides his face in Danny's ribs and holds him tight, and tells him he doesn't want to. Danny leaves it at that.
Perhaps it would be more morally ethical to alert Damian Wayne that there was a clone of him running around, that his... uh, grandfather was making clones of him. Hell, Danny would have liked it. But little Damian has asked him not to say anything, and little Damian needs someone to rely on; someone he can trust.
And in the end, its not that hard of a decision to make. Danny knows little Damian more than he knows Damian Wayne, and while Danny likes to think he's a good person, he knows he's not a great one. Nor a perfect one. He cares more about someone he knows than someone he doesn't.
If Sam tries to argue with him about it, then Danny will just double down. If Damian doesn't want to tell Wayne about his existence, then it's not their place to say otherwise.
There's a lot more to talk about over Damian's cloning, like what he wants to do moving forward. But that's a long conversation not meant to be one taken late at night. Little Damian is falling asleep at his side, seemingly much more relaxed than he did before, and Danny wasn't gonna ruin that.
And later he's right, it is a long conversation, and a slow one. Talking with Jazz about it helps him figure out what to do moving forward, and their best bet is to let Damian figure out what he wants to do. So he sits Damian down at the dinner table the next morning and tells him before breakfast that he doesn't need to be Damian Wayne.
He doesn't need to learn all the same things Damian Wayne did. He doesn't need to do anything that Damian Wayne does. And little Damian is seven, and he's smart, but Danny still has to word it in a way that's not too complex for him to realize.
And in the end, what he says essentially boils down to "You are not Damian Wayne, you are just you. Don't be anyone else but you." and it'll take more time to drill that into his mind when all he's ever heard and learned from is that he was a copy of Damian Wayne, and he must act like Damian Wayne. But it'll happen.
It's a hard task when Danny's the only person Damian really trusts and he can't be by his side all the time, but he starts to warm up to the rest of Danny's family. The Fenton parents know of him, it's hard to keep a six year old child a secret for as long as Danny did without eventually having to come clean about it. His parents, much to Danny's relief, are very welcoming to Damian.
Damian figures out what he likes. Slowly. He's six years old, almost seven, and nobody expects of him to figure out who he is immediately. No child knows who they are right off the bat. So like any child he begins to explore. His english is better but still rough, and he struggles to read said language, but the Fenton family are happy to help even if Damian learns words that no normal seven year old does. (Many of them scientific.)
Damian realizes he likes stars, even if said interest is influenced by the association to Danny. Danny is all too delighted to tell him all about them, and in the process takes him flying out somewhere where the light pollution doesn't reach and showing him where constellations are.
Damian is six-almost-seven, so he doesn't find all of them, but Danny helps him figure out the easier ones. He tells him the scientific facts behind them, and then tells him about the mythos of the constellations. Later on they make their own constellations and make up stories about what they are.
(Damian adores Danny out of anyone else in the Fenton Family. The name Danyal turns to Dany. If anyone asks, Daniel Fenton is Damian's big brother.)
(He still refers to Jazz as Jazmine, and Danny's parents as Mrs. and Mr. Fenton.)
He realizes that, like his original, he loves animals, and he becomes vegetarian too. Sam is smug and Tucker is disappointed, but Damian doesn't super care about their opinions. ...he's getting better at liking them, even if he thinks Manson is a bit snobby and Foley is too much at times.
Its inevitable that the conversation of school comes into play. Damian can't stay home all day and he needs proper schooling. So after a long talk with Damian, they agree to send him to elementary school.
...And before they can do that the Fenton Family goes through with legally adopting Damian into the family as Damian Fenton. It takes convincing to get the administration to enroll him into the first grade without a proper schooling background.
(On his adoption form, Damian asks to change his birthday to the day he met Danny. Perhaps its not the most responsible thing to agree to, but Danny wants Damian to find himself. And its not like they know when his actual birthday was.)
And despite where he learned it from, Damian quite likes sparring. And he quite likes sparring with Danny in particular. Danny makes it fun, something that was foreign in his old league training, and Danny never hurts him. It's a lot like roughhousing.
Danny tells Damian how he got his powers, and how his parents don't know. Damian wakes up late at night to Danny sneaking out of the room (their house is not big enough to give Damian an individual room, and Danny agreed to share his) to go fight ghosts.
It's upsetting. Damian knows that Danny gets injured in those fights, even if Danny never comes home until after those injuries have been fixed up. He wants to help, and he voices it, and Danny shoots him down.
It becomes an argument, something that has happened less and less over the months.
Damian is experienced.
Damian is a child.
Damian knows how to fight.
Damian is mortal and fragile. He is a tiny, squishy human boy and the people Danny fights are ghosts who are near-indestructible. Who are intimately acquainted with death but also do not remember that humans are capable of it. Especially when they're fighting.
Damian says that Batman's rogues are capable of the same thing, that he lets his Robins help him fight.
And Danny says he is not Batman and he will not allow Damian to fight ghosts with him. Those ghosts will kill him and it will hurt. Dying hurts in a way that is terrifying and unimaginable and he will not risk Damian experiencing it. Not even Sam and Tucker help him in his fights most of the time, they are not able to. Not in the way Danny can.
Damian doesn't talk to him all day the following morning, but Danny does not budge on his decision. Damian tries to follow him out the next night, and Danny catches him and takes him back. Over, and over, and over again.
Until finally he gets intercepted by Skulker while taking Damian back home and is forced to fight him in front of Damian. (If it had been his choice, he would not have let Damian see it at all.)
It's not pretty. Skulker has new weapons, weapons that hurt, a lot. Danny is stuck between trying to take him down and trying to protect Damian from Skulker's attacks at him and from all the debris being created from the fight. It's with Damian's quick thinking and fast feet that finally helps Danny take Skulker out. But Danny is badly injured in the aftermath.
He doesn't have time to take Damian home and get medical attention. So he takes Damian with him to wherever he has his supplies stashed. He doesn't call Sam or Tucker or Jazz, and has to stitch himself up alone, with Damian watching.
Damian is quiet the entire time, he feels awful. Danny's not mad at him -- well, he is. But not because he had to protect him. He's just tired, and a little disappointed in him. Damian doesn't sneak out again. But he still feels helpless.
Danny tells him that that is why he doesn't want Damian to help him. Ghosts, his ghosts, are hard to fight. They are powerful, and his 'rogues' are mean. They will not care that Damian is a mortal child, if he picks a fight with them, they will fight back. And Damian is not immune to certain ghost powers like Danny is.
Damian is silent. He wants to help. But Danny is right: he is a squishy, mortal, living child. There is not much he can do to help Danny. Not without any gear to do it. Not without any powers to do it. He wants to help. He cannot.
Damian, almost-seven-years old, begins to cry. It is the last thing Danny was expecting, and for a moment he is at a loss of what to do.
Damian reaches for him -- in the Fenton family, physical affection is expected. Damian is getting used to it, but Danny is the only one he likes touching him -- and then stops, cringing away like he only just remembered that Danny was hurt.
He only cries harder.
Danny meets him halfway and pulls him into his arms, situating Damian between his knees from where he's sitting. Through his tears, Damian says he wants to help. He wants to help. He doesn't want Danny to get hurt anymore. He doesn't want Danny to fight ghosts alone anymore. He's scared that Danny will stop coming back.
Danny doesn't have anything to say to reassure him. Can't say anything to reassure him. It'll all just be lies. He's not going to stop fighting ghosts, he can't. He's not going to stop getting hurt, he can't. He's not going to bring Damian with him, he can't. He'd never be able to live with himself.
"I'll always come back." He says though, because that is something he can promise. Whether dead or alive, he'll come back.
When the tears finally stop, Damian doesn't say anything again. He sniffles, and presses his ear to Danny's chest, listening to the steady, slow heartbeat. If he puts his ear to his sternum and strains his ear, Damian would almost hear the low hum of Danny's ghost core, like a small dwarf sun.
"If you die, I'll drag you to the Lazarus pools myself." Damian mumbles eventually, his voice sleep-full. It's spoken in arabic, and Danny only understands half of it.
He laughs quietly, and smoothes his hand over Damian's hair. He hasn't had a haircut since he arrived, it's gotten long and there are curls beginning to form. "Okay."
Damian falls asleep shortly after, and with much consideration to his own injuries and Damian's sleeping form, Danny flies them back home.
It's hard to say, but not much changes in routine afterwards. Damian hovers close to Danny, more than usual. Danny still goes out at night, he still stitches himself up before going back, he still goes back home where Damian is waiting worriedly for him. Damian doesn't like falling asleep without knowing Danny is there.
Now the hard question is: when does little Damian finally meet the Waynes for the first time? There's plenty of ways to go about it, both easy and hard. Perhaps we go this way:
The Fenton family are visiting Maddie's sister in Arkansas. And Damian is dragging Danny around through the surrounding forest. It's his first time being in a forest this large since he moved in with the Fentons. Safe to say he is delighted by all of the nature, and he's dragging Danny along with him.
Danny likes the peace and quiet it gives him, he's found that he enjoys the rural area more than he likes the city. He's happy to let Damian point out every plant he recognizes, even if some of it is in arabic.
They walk around all day until Damian gets tired, and then at night when the sky is clear Danny and him go look at the stars. It's peaceful at first.
On the third day of their visit, Damian drags Danny out far from the house. It's slightly worrying, but Danny can always fly them back if it gets too late.
It's in the woods that Danny and Damian stray much too far from Alicia's house, and from there in the early evening that they run into Batman and Red Robin, both of them in rough 'just got out of a fight' shape.
Safe to say, it was the last thing any of them expected to run into. Damian and Danny had stopped at a small crik to rest, and the two vigilantes came through the tree line on the other side.
It was... quite the staring contest.
Damian, now seven years old at this point, forgot to mention that the Waynes were vigilantes when he told Danny he was a clone. But he was told that Batman was his original's father.
Before anyone can say anything, little Damian wraps his arms tight around Danny's middle and stares Batman and Red Robin down. His sharp edges have softened around the Fentons. But he makes no exceptions to anyone else outside of Danny's immediate social circle.
Danny's arm automatically goes around Damian's shoulders, and he looks between both Red and Batman uneasily. If they were here then it meant that there was something unsafe nearby. Danny did not fight the living, and he wasn't going to put Damian in the crosshairs of anything that does.
"Should... should we leave?" He asks, brows knotted together with a frown. He stands. "Is there something going on nearby?"
Batman suddenly grunts, and looks at him. "It's been handled." He says, and his voice is gruffer than Danny imagined it. Lower. Danny is not all that comfortable with that answer.
"Do you guys live nearby?" Red Robin asks, and Danny can't help but notice that he keeps looking at Damian. Warily. In fact, so is Batman.
He pushes Damian behind him slightly, and Damian's grip tightens on him. "Not... exactly." He says, his eyes narrowing slightly. "My family's visiting my Aunt and my brother wanted to explore since it's his first time out of the city, I guess we wandered too far away if we're running into you."
There's no visible indication of whether or not both Bats reacted to him calling Damian his brother. But he can all but feel little Damian preen at the title, it makes Danny's mouth twitch into a smile as his hand finds Damian's hair.
"Would we be able to go back with you?" Red Robin asks, startling both Danny and seemingly Batman, who looks at him instantly.
"Red Robin." He growls out, and Red Robin throws Batman a look of annoyance.
"We are lost, B. They jammed the comms and our trackers back there and it hasn't come back on yet, his aunt may have the signal we need to let the others know where we are."
They end up walking back with Danny and Damian. It's silent, and awkward, and Danny has Damian walking on his opposite side so he's not near the vigilantes. Red Robin is fiddling with a phone but still can't get a signal.
Batman is silently brooding.
Red eventually gives up and shoves the phone into a pocket on his belt, then turns to make conversation with Danny. "I never thanked you for letting us walk with you. Thanks, by the way."
Danny blinks at him, and smiles awkwardly. "No problem, man," he says, "I'm uh, Danny." He glances down at Damian, who looks up at him with big green eyes, and Damian nods quietly.
He looks back at Red Robin, and says, "This is my little brother, Damian." And Damian peers over his side and glares at Red Robin -- and Batman, who looks over when Danny says his name.
"He looks like Damian Wayne," Red Robin notes, head tilting like he's inspecting him.
Danny huffs dryly, "We get that a lot."
Red Robin smiles at him, its a tilted thing. It makes Danny uneasy. "Where did you say you were from?"
"I didn't," Danny says bluntly, and he really doesn't want to tell them where he's from. Not when Red Robin was acting strange, but they're vigilantes and notorious for their detective skills. If he's suspicious, they'll look into him. "But I'm from Amity Park."
Damian in that moment, peers around Danny again and scowls at Red Robin. Full on scowls at him, as if it were the first months when he met Danny. "You're being nosy." He sneers, his hand squeezing Danny's.
"Damian," Danny hisses, suppressing a smile. Damian jumps like he's been startled, and looks up at him with big green eyes. "He's just being curious."
(He lets his smile slip through briefly, just to let Damian know he's not that upset. A tension leaves his little brother's shoulders.)
"But he is." Damian continues, a whine leaking into his voice. Danny jabs him in the ribs with his fingers, and Damian jumps, swatting away his hand with a squeak.
"Would you rather have us walk in dead silence, Dames?" He goes for Damian's ribs again, a grin stretching across his face as Damian jumps back again and swats his hand. "Hm? Hm? We could just walk in awkward silence for the entire trip back, I know you just love awkward silence, little brother."
(It's funny, saying little brother always sounds so uncomfortable when he reads it in books and watches it on tv. But Jazz always makes it sound so natural when she does it, and Danny finds that he sounds the same too.)
Damian continues to bat away his hands, but it's not enough to prevent him from squealing with laughter when Danny gets a good hold on him and starts tickling him. Danny's grin only gets bigger, and he swoops Damian up with his arm and holds him like a football.
"Is that it? Huh? Me, you, and two vigilantes walking back to Aunt Alicia's cabin in complete, utter silence." He says, "You won't get to hear any of my amazing jokes."
Damian's wriggling, trying to pound on Danny's ribs, he's giggling uncontrollably. It's the best sound Danny's ever heard. "Your jokes are awful! Laeazir! Put me down!" He cries, grinning from ear to ear.
(From the side, both Red Robin and Batman tense up.)
Danny chuckles, and through a short series of flips, has Damian sitting on his shoulders. "I will not. You're sitting up in air jail for insulting my hilarious jokes."
Damian tugs on his hair in revenge, harrumphing at him but making no move to get down. Danny squeezes his ankles playfully, and looks back to Batman and Red Robin.
Both vigilantes look at him like he's grown a second head.
....Red Robin looks at him like he's grown a second head. Batman just stares, and then looks away. Danny tilts his head at them, his smile waning. "You guys look like you've seen a ghost or something."
(Damian tugs on his hair again. A silent boo at him.)
Red Robin jerks, "Oh, sorry." He says, not sounding all that sorry. "It's just... I've lost count to how many times I've saved Damian Wayne from the occasional kidnapping and he's always been very... serious. It's just weird seeing a kid that looks like him be... not serious."
From his shoulders he feels Damian hide his smile in his hair, that's another thing they can put on their "Things That Damian Does That Damian Wayne Does Not" list. It started as a joke, but it's been surprisingly helpful for when Damian is questioning himself.
However, Danny is not a fan of the comparison, and he smiles widely, perhaps a tad passive-aggressive. "It's a good thing that my Damian isn't Damian Wayne then." He says, giving him the slight stink eye.
Red Robin picks up on it quickly, and nods.
The rest of the way is spent in idle conversation. It's oddly casual, even if most of the conversation is Danny talking about himself. It's annoying, but he unfortunately understands the reason. Secret identities and all that.
Damian interjects a few times, some parts to talk to Danny, and other parts to throw shade at Batman and Red Robin. Mostly Red Robin, who seems begrudgingly used to it.
("I'm surprised you haven't asked me much about myself." Red Robin says at one point into the conversation. Over his shoulder Batman glares at Red Robin. "A lot of civilians do when they're able."
Danny stares at him. "You're a vigilante." He says, frowning, "Isn't it superhero 101 that you don't ask superheroes for their secret identity?"
"You'd be surprised."
"Huh. Well, no. I'm not gonna ask you about yourself. I quite like talking all about me.")
When they finally reach the cabin, it's late into the night and Danny has moved Damian from his shoulders to his front in a koala-like carry. Damian's fast asleep with his head on Danny's shoulder.
His family was also frantically searching for him, and Jazz sees him first. She immediately turns behind her and yells "I FOUND HIM!". And then sprints over to him, his parents thundering not too far behind.
Both vigilantes are subsequently ignored as Jazz dotes over him and Danny, and soon enough so is his mom and dad. They're all talking all at once, asking him where he was, they were worried sick, did he know how late it was.
He shushes all of them, loudly. And whispers that Damian is sleeping. His family then immediately quiet themselves, and go back to yelling at him in a more appropriate manner.
"Me and Damian walked too far by accident." Danny finally says when he can get a word in, and then he jabs his thumb in Red Robin and Batman's direction. "We also found two superheroes who need assistance."
The speed of which his family all snap their heads over to the direction he's pointing is almost comical. As is all of their expressions of shock.
His mother is the first to regain her senses, and she sighs at him. She sighs! "Only you, Danny." She says, and Jazz snorts into her arm.
#dpxdc#dpdc#dpxdc crossover#danny fenton is not the ghost king#danny phantom au#dpdc danny fenton#i am incapable of making short posts it seems. heavy sigh#this post is open to add ons if anyone's interested 👉👈#this entire au is essentially the song 'Strange Sight' by KT Turnstall from the Tinkerbell and the Neverbeast#This post mostly goes into how danny and damian's relationship develops because i think that's the more important part of the au#also damian's like six i firmly believe he wouldn't know much english#no no he's learning arabic first and then english LATER. if he would ever even get there with the league#iirc all the damian clones liked Danny so i wanna explore how their relationship got to that point. Like what happened for Danny to get eve#getting one Damian clone to like him enough to go up to bat for him? that takes time and patience and i wanna explore that lol#danny's in his late teens here btw.#Clone Damian is a 7yo child and I'm writing him as such because its fun. I thought about having Clone Damian change his name but nothing fi#little clone damian is also A Tad Clingy. Danny is the First Person to have shown him a kindness and Damian Imprinted On Him Like a Duck#i love clone aus and clone aus love me#clone damian and danny are bROOOTHEERSS#i thought about making clone damian's name damon bc its close to the name damian but also i like the idea that clone damian keeps the--#original name and then makes it his own. something about taking the name you were given thats not really yours and MAKING it yours
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demonpiratehuntress · 4 months
Text
worth the wait
Trafalgar Law x F!Reader
summary - you wait for Law to confess, going through everything ranging from jealousy to frustration, but no matter how you feel, you want him to confess on his own.
warnings - maybe some angst but mostly fluff, this is my FIRST TIME writing for Law so i sincerely apologise if I get him wrong
a/n: i'm still busy with the Sabaody Archipelago arc so im not very accustomed to Law yet but i like him so i wanted to try
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You know he doesn't mean to make you feel this way. You know he doesn't intend to make you seethe with anger yet also burn with jealousy and drown in sorrow as you watch the woman flirt with him. You know he has no clue about your feelings, or that the woman is flirting, and you know he doesn't mean to hurt you.
But that doesn't stop those feelings.
You take note of how much prettier the woman is than you, how much bustier and curvier. Law doesn't seem to be the type that goes for looks, but sometimes you cave to insecurity and imagine him being convinced and led off by one of these local whores. And it brings up many unpleasant feelings you wish you could go your entire life without feeling.
Bepo, Shachi and Penguin all sit at the table with you, each one having taken a turn to suggest that you put an end to it by going and telling Law how you feel. But you denied all of them, insisting that Law should be given the opportunity to confess to you on his own if he felt that way, without being forced into it or facing the awkwardness of not reciprocating. If he really felt that way about you, then you wanted him to approach you on his own, when he was comfortable.
Even if you had to hurt longer because of it.
Your eyes lingered on your dark-haired captain as he listened to the woman sitting next to him at the bar, his face showing clear signs of disinterest. Usually Law was quick to tell people to leave him alone if they were bothering him, so you were unsure of what to think. He wasn't interested in her, but he wasn't telling her to go away??
You sighed, leaning back in your chair as you stretched, "Okay, I've had my fun. I'm going back to the Polar Tang." You pushed your chair back and stood. "See you guys later." Before they could protest, you left.
Law turned to watch you go, a frown forming on his lips. He wasn't aware that something had been bothering you, but now he was sure of it. You usually didn't leave until he did, and certainly not without taking someone with you. He excused himself without looking at the woman talking to him, and gestured for Shachi, Penguin and Bepo to follow as he too left the pub.
You sighed as you lay back on your bed, letting your mind wander. You had to reign it back in when your thoughts immediately went to Law and that woman, though, and you tried to think of something else. Taking a deep breath, you looked at your blanket and mindlessly studied the pattern.
A knock pulled you from your bland, and frankly, boring, task. You sighed once more and forced yourself out of bed, going over to open your door. You expected it to be Shachi or Bepo coming to check on you, so you were not ready for who was actually standing there.
"Law?" You frowned, confused.
"Are you alright, (Name)-ya?" The doctor asked, his posture slightly awkward. If you hadn't known him as long as you did, you wouldn't have noticed. "You left a bit early today."
You bit your lip, "Yeah, I just...got a bit tired."
He saw right through your lie, as you should have expected him to.
"Something is bothering you."
"What?" Your eyes widened. "No, nothing-"
He scoffed, "I'm insulted you think I wouldn't notice when one of my crewmembers is bothered by something."
Crewmember. There it was. You tried not to flinch, letting out a shaky breath, "I'm fine, captain. Honest." Before he could press further, you closed the door. That may have not been smart, but you didn't want to tell him the real reason.
Law frowned, but if you didn't want to discuss it with him, he wouldn't force you to.
-
Law couldn't sleep.
Well, he usually had trouble but tonight was for a different reason. He was kept up by concern for you, and plagued by confusion over what was making you behave so weirdly. He tried to think of every possible thing that might have upset you, but he couldn't connect anything to your behaviour.
Then he recalled what he'd overheard in the pub, the conversation between you, Shachi, Penguin and Bepo that you thought he hadn't heard.
"Maybe you should tell him how you feel."
"No, I can't. I won't. If he feels the same, I want him to tell me on his own terms, when he's ready. No sooner."
That hadn't made sense when he first heard it, and he automatically assumed you were talking about a crush you had on someone, which made an ugly bubble of jealousy grow inside him. But now...
Now it all clicked.
You liked him. You liked Law. But you didn't want to tell him, because you wanted him to be comfortable when he eventually did decide to pursue a relationship with you.
Now at least he knew what to do.
-
You woke up the next morning feeling groggy and tired. You hadn't gotten much sleep, maybe two or three hours max. Your body protested to you getting up, but you eventually managed to pull yourself out of bed and get ready for the day. You would be leaving the island today, so you needed to go help the others get the submarine ready for departure.
The short conversation you had with Law last night suddenly slipped into your mind, and you internally cringed. That was awkward. You wanted to avoid him, but since he was your captain that was virtually impossible. And it would also be difficult to explain.
You sucked it up and joined everyone else for breakfast.
You didn't get very far with that, since Bepo informed you that Law wanted to see you in his room halfway through your meal. You stiffened, but nonetheless promised to go when you were done.
"Captain?" You swallowed thickly as you stood outside his door and knocked. "You wanted to see me?"
"Yes," came his familiar voice from behind the door, before it opened to reveal the man who gave you butterflies each and every time you saw him. "Come in." He stepped aside to give you space to walk in.
You avoided meeting his gaze and you stepped into his room, your heart racing at the speed of light. It was causing bile to rise at the base of your throat, but you tried to ignore the nauseated feeling your nervousness was bringing with it.
"Am I in trouble?" You asked anxiously, fiddling with your boiler suit.
"No," he stated simply, before taking a seat at his desk. It was a while before he spoke again, writing something before turning in his seat to face you. He studied your expression, before sighing. "You don't have to look so scared."
You chose not to say anything, casting your gaze to the floor instead.
"(Name)-ya. Look at me."
When you didn't, the doctor got up again and walked over to you. He gently gripped your chin in his hand and moved your head upwards so you could look him in the eye.
"You're very cute when you get shy on me."
Out of all the things you'd expected him to say, that was nowhere on the list. Your eyes widened, heart almost stopping. Your butterflies grew, and fluttered around more wildly in your stomach.
"It took me a lot longer than I thought to figure out why you get easily flustered around me," he began again, "I'll admit I'm not as adept at romance as I am at medicine, or how did Penguin put it?"
"You're book smart, not street smart," you managed to say, laughing a little bit at the jab Penguin had teasingly made at Law, when he thought Law wasn't around.
"Yes, that," Law chuckled, a rare sound that you liked hearing. Then he smiled at you, really smiled at you, and your heart flipped. "So you should have come to me about your feelings. I wouldn't have thought of it as forced if you told me first, considering I have no experience with this." Suddenly he became the nervous one, a side to him you'd never seen before. "There was no way I would confess if you didn't."
You supposed that made sense, and you managed a small smile, "Sorry, captain. I just wanted to make sure you'd be comfortable."
"I..." He bit his lip, "I'm always comfortable with you."
That admission was followed by Law using his grip on your chin to guide your face closer to his, so that he could press his lips to yours. He kissed you lightly at first, testing the waters, then deepened it as soon as you reciprocated the kiss. He dropped his hand to grip both sides of your waist, and pulled you flush against him as your lips moulded together in a slow, passionate dance. You grabbed his upper arms for support, fearing you would fall over from how good the kiss felt, and only when he sensed you might just faint he pulled away.
With a cocky smirk.
"I didn't know I made your knees weak," he teased.
You stuttered and babbled out something incoherent, the brightest blush settling on your cheeks. He chuckled and wrapped his arms around your smaller frame, letting you rest your head on his shoulder as he embraced you. He kissed the top of your head, and you sighed contentedly, happy to finally be in his arms.
"Next time, don't wait so long to tell me something so important."
"Okay, but you were worth the wait."
He blushed.
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valenishere · 1 month
Text
Sagau Idea
I'm not that good with writing YouPoV's so there may be some odd usage of they's and thems then switching to "you"'s. this'll be stock full of typos so be warned
Mentions of injury, implied murder, blood, and implied cult
It's been a long while since I've gotten into Self-aware genshin aus, reading the fluffiest scenes to straight up gore. And theres this concept I saw about where the creator (basically, you) can make any oc come to life and help them out. (this one read it s really good. They also expanded on it go read it too its a really neat build-up on it. this one)
And as a DnD enjoyer as well... there's this idea thats been brewing in my head whenever i think back to it.
What if in Imposter!au where they're being constantly being hunted... after getting cornered in one of the nations (in the Chasm for example) they get desperate and try out an idea they don't think would work.
While resting after being in the brink of death(again) in a place Teyvat has helped you conceal, your thoughts wander. You think, why is there even a Creator? There isn't supposed to be one. That kinda concept just disrupts everything they know about the game. It's a ridiculous concept. In your delirious state, you think, "I wish that just disappears... Then i wouldn't be..."
Then you remebered the curious ability you've recently unlocked in your "adventures". The ability to create characters, with some limitations. It took you quite a bit to adjust to your newfound ability and its caveats, resulting in a few heartbreaking loss on the way.
But as a DnD player, overcoming the death of your beloved characters quickly is a mental fortitude you've developed. And it's handy that you've already made a few characters for your past sessions before landing in Teyvat. It saved you from being one-shotted right from the start.
Although now... You're down to only one left.
"... I'm so tired..."
The mental stress of being in a constant state of danger, paranoia, hunger, pain, and exhaustion have worn you down to a point where you can't even think up of more characters to make up for the one's that have recently passed. You slipped up so bad because of sleeplessness that your last capable party of characters died and a hole was speared through your gut too.
As you lay bleeding on the cold ground, with only a talking mushroom to keep you company, you wrack your brain to put together a proper character but... you really can't. You can't even think straight. Not with the recent information you've found out.
The so-called Creator is now creating their very own characters, their very own people/army, through alchemy, and is now sending them after you, thus increasing your hunters by double. And on top of the already powerful vision-holders (of course they're powerful, you made them that way), you figured... "Ah... I'm fucked..."
Knowing you might as well be as good as done now, you didn't even bother bringing out the last of your characters to heal you. It's not like healing yourself will make you forget about this lifelong trauma--
... Forget?
...
A fleeting thought.
A dumb fleeting thought. A very dumb one at that.
One that will for sure backfire in your face if you do it wrong. And quite frankly, it could spell the end for this world, even for the one they call Creator.
... But it's not like you have anything else to lose.
And so, within the dim light of the mushroom, you painstakingly start to write. Word for word, cramming everything information you know, as deatiled as you can make it into bringing it into life. A character you've never tried making before. Something that could possibly end your suffering. Or make it worse.
You honestly don't know if you're doing it right. After all, you've never tried something like it before.
"What are you making this time?' the ever so curious mushroom asked.
You grin, a manic look in your eyes. "Either my stupidest... or my brightest idea yet."
It's not long befere you finished. You gaze upon your finished product and you have to say... it's even more fleshed out than your best characters. And that quick sketch you drew... you swear those hollow eyes are following you already. That may be just the blood loss talking.
"That's... one ugly worm you've drawn..." The mushroom hums, like it can just see the monstrosity that you've created.
You chuckle breathlessly, looking almost solemn with what you're about to do. Well... it' not wrong. But...
"This is my kid. Their name is... Falseh. Get along well with them... okay?"
0===|>>>>>.
The very ground trembles as the Lord of Geo strides through the dark tunnels, a dark look in his eyes and a spear in his hand. If his presence wasn't enough, the murderous intent rolling off of him in waves is enough to deter any beasts from crossing his path.
The imposter was last seen slinking around the depths of the Chasm by one of the Tianquan's agents. Although failing to execute the imposter the first chance they got with their incompetence, Morax have to commend the Qixing for being able to find them even in the depths of the earth.
For some reason, the land seems to reject his commands from time to time now. He was baffled as to why his beloved Maker is hindering him in fulfilling his given mission but he's just been informed that the land defiance of him is due to the imposter infecting the land with their vile abilities.
Now, he's even more hellbent on making sure to drive his spear through the imposters heart and presenting it to his Grace. He won't miss a second time.
His eyes sharpens as a he a cavern just up ahead, soft blue light spilling through entrance. Tightening his grip on his spear, the power of Geo gathers in his other, ready to skewer someone five times into death if he so wishes.
He steps through the entrance and immediately lands on a figure, leaning prone under a giant glowing mushroom. He relaxes a bit. He recognizes this place. It's a bit close to the Land of Verdure, Sumeru. He needs to be careful. He can't be caught flaunting his power on another Archons domain after all.
Approaching the figure, he gets a bit surprised as they twitch, looking up to him through their hair. They try to talk, but all they can manage are quiet wheezes.
'Oh. They're still breathing. That's good.' Zhongli kneels down beside them, looking them over. They look like they've been dragged through the Abyss and back. Their midriff is bandaged heavily but it's already bled through, forming a pool of their own blood below them. He frowns lightly. It must be quite a big injury if it's bleeding this much.
Wordlessly, he holds a hand over the injury and channels his power. He's not the most profficient in healing, but he should at least be able to stop the bleeding.
Mere moments later, he have plugged up the injury and the figure is now able to stand up.
"Th-Thank you so much Rex Lapis!" they bow down. Or at least, they bow down the best they can without opening their wound. "Any longer and I would've surely perished..."
Zhongli waves them off nonchalantly as he starts to walk back out the way he came. "It's best you get back to the surface. Your injury needs to be properly tended. And I can see that..."
His eyes drifts to the scattered bloody bandages and practically empty backpack. "You've run out of supplies. It is a virtue to you mortals to know when to give up. Remember that."
"Y-Yes sir Rex Lapis sir! I'll get back right away!" they start to quickly collect their things, haphazardly stuffing the bandages and handbook into the bag, being careful of their injury.
The Lord of Geo just watches for a moment before completely leaving, trusting that they won't make any stupid mistake and go back post haste.
After he has left, you pause in your packing, leaning against the mushroom and slowly sliding down with a shaky breath.
"Y-You... didn't you say he and the entirety of the world was hunting for you?" The mushroom hums in confusion, sharing your tension. "What was that? Heck, he was the one that put a hole through you and he healed you!"
You chuckle breathlessly, the manic look intensifying in your eyes as it dawns on you that it worked. That stupid idea of yours actually worked!
And if you can get to the Creator... you can make this whole concept disappear altogether. Forever.
Out of the corner of your eyes, you see it. A large mass of hairless flesh writhing about, multiple tentacle-like appendages potruding out of it. It's slithering it's limbs about, coiling around the mushroom and and back again, and around you as well.
But when you turn your head to actually look, there's nothing there. All you can hear is what seems to be muffled humming, an eerie tune listlessly flowing through the air (but somehow, the sound is the most comforting thing ever).
"Oh it's nothing. I think... he just heard something that made him forget."
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niningtori · 28 days
Text
see me | chapter four: together (final)
pairing: choi beomgyu x you
summary: after another failed relationship, you're ready to accept your fate as hopeless. choi beomgyu has other plans, though. or, beomgyu s your best friend's little brother and he's tired of you treating him like a kid.
genre: romance, angst, angst with a happy ending, best friend's brother au
word count: 3.4k (whoa)
notes: hi friends! happy easter to all who celebrate!! sorry this took me a bit to get out. i just love this story and this beomgyu so much i didn't want to rush it. i hope you're all satisfied with how this ends. see end of work for more notes :)
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you're so out of it jia can't fucking take it anymore. 
"hello? come back to earth, please," she says, waving her hand in front of your face. "are you ever gonna tell me what the fuck happened with doyoon?"
it's been a few days since your return from the beach. suffice it to say, one painfully awkward drive was spent with you trying not to openly stare at beomgyu and him focusing intently on the scenery outside. 
you're actually a little surprised by her question. you genuinely haven't thought about your conversation with doyoon since you had it — you've simply been too preoccupied by the revelation that beomgyu has feelings for you.
"nothing much, really. he apologized to me and asked to get a drink sometime."
"what the fuck?! what did you say?!" 
"i said no," you reply simply. she's quiet for a moment before her face contorts into a deep frown.
"why do i get the feeling that that's not what's bothering you so much?" 
"because it's not," you admit with a sigh.
"then what is it? you've been weird ever since we got back."
you're torn for a while. how do you explain to your best friend that her kid brother is in love with you? or says he is, at least. 
"... it's about beomgyu. he—"
"oh, so he finally told you, huh?" she interrupts with a knowing look and you're absolutely flabbergasted.
"t-told me what?" you try feigning ignorance. maybe she's got it wrong?
"that he's been in love with you ever since he first saw you."
"how the fuck did you know that?!" you ask incredulously.
"you're my best friend and he's my brother. i know you two too well," she shrugs.
"so you knew this whole time and didn't tell me?" 
"well, to be honest, it was painfully obvious, but i didn't wanna embarrass either of you and it's, frankly, none of my business."
"i... wasn't he just drunk? i don't believe it…” you trail off.
"what do you mean?"
"i mean, he can't really mean it. he doesn't know what he wants. he's just a kid and—" 
"i'm going to stop you right there," she says sternly. "you may be oblivious, but don't you dare dismiss his feelings to make yourself feel comfortable. his feelings are real and he doesn't deserve to have you completely disregard them just because you can't face them." you flinch at her harshness.
"b-but he's never even hinted at it!" 
"never even hinted at it, my ass. that boy was all over you," she snorts. "did you really not notice anything this past week?" your eyebrows knit in confusion as you think back to all of the times the boy (man?) had interacted with you. suddenly, the unassuming touches and glances beomgyu shared with you hit you at a mile a minute. oh god, he was flirting? he was, wasn't he? and you just ruffled his hair and called him cute. 
but you're not done denying, denying, denying.
"i just don't understand. how could he like me when he's always with somebody new?"
"has it ever occurred to you that that's because he wants you to see him as a man and not the child you're so convinced he is?" you fall silent at this. no, it has never occurred to you, but now that she's said it, the puzzle pieces are starting to fit together in the most gut wrenching way.
"so he's been fucking around for years because he wants to prove something to me?"
"more or less, yeah." your head is spinning at this. so his feelings are sincere? 
"i... i don't know what to say."
"i figured you wouldn't," she hums.
"what do i do?" you ask with a newfound sense of panic. this is real. beomgyu actually love, loves you. 
"well, what do you want to do? it all depends on how you feel about him." 
"to be honest, i've never seen him as anything other than a brother," you sigh.
"and what about now?"
"i... i don't know. i'm just confused," you whine, digging your face into your hands and slightly tugging on your hair. when you think of the kiss you two shared, your heart skips a beat and butterflies arise in your stomach. well, that's new.
"honestly, i'll consider that progress. it's better than being brother-zoned." 
"jia!" you exclaim exasperatedly. "you're not helping. the boy i've thought of as a literal brother is in love with me and i've unknowingly treated him like shit for years." 
"yes, but i know and he knows that you didn’t mean it. look, even if you don't like him at all, don't you think he deserves a proper rejection at the very least?"
"you're right," you relent. "you’re always right.”
“well, i know,” she muses. “but before you decide anything, i want you to think about who’s been by your side all these years. when you didn’t have anyone else, who could you count on?”
“i —” you begin. 
“don’t answer yet. just think about it.” and think about it, you do.
-
the more time you’re left to think about what happened with him, the more confused you feel. beomgyu isn’t a child anymore, that much is clear, but does that mean you can undo the near decade of thinking of him as one? he’s handsome, sure, and that kiss nearly knocked you off of your feet, but can you really see him as a partner? as a man?
you’re not really sure. plus, what would happen if it didn’t work out? the choi’s are like family to you. they’re more of a family than your actual family ever was or ever will be. is it really worth gambling such an important piece of your heart for something that could easily end in heartbreak? but then, it’s broken, either way. can you really face the choi family again when you know beomgyu is in love with you and has been for such a long time? no, you can’t. not in good conscience. you’ve, intentionally or not, ignored beomgyu’s feelings for years now and you can’t ask him to bottle them back up for your own comfort.
you decide it's best to just talk to him. 
-
beomgyu doesn’t think that this is a good idea at all, actually. but his friends told him that rotting in his bed and crying like he has been for the past few days is even worse. when they put it like that, it didn't seem right to refuse their suggestion to have a double date with yeonjun. even still, he told them he wasn't ready to see someone new, but they said he was never seeing you in the first place. that sure shut him up. either way, it would be casual and yeonjun just needs a friend for his date's friend.
his "date" is nice enough, but she seems to have not gotten the memo that he's here as a wingman and not much else. she's trying to draw his attention by not-so-discreetly placing her hand on his thigh. gross. he genuinely thought about pretending to have a stomachache to cut the date short, but yeonjun had the bright idea of inviting the girls over after dinner. so now, as he sits on the couch of his and yeonjun’s shared apartment, he prays for god to intervene and end his suffering. 
a knock on the door pulls him out of his thoughts. please, god, let it be the maintenance man telling them they have to evacuate because of a gas leak. he almost jumps out of his seat to get to the door first, but yeonjun is closer and he says he’ll get it. fuck. before he can catch a glimpse of the mystery person at the door, his date speaks again.
“gyu?” the girl asks tentatively.
“mmm?” he says, turning back around to face her.
“do you like me?” she says while, once again, putting her hand on his thigh. alright. enough is enough. usually, he would tell her to beat it and leave it at that, but ever since you told him he doesn’t treat girls the nicest, he’s decided he’ll try to be better. he takes her hand from his lap into his and opts to just be truthful. 
“to be honest, i —” 
“beomie?”
oh, he’d recognize that voice anywhere, even in his sleep. his head whips around almost comically fast and he unintentionally yanks his hand from his date's as he stands straight up.
“w-what are you doing here?” he asks, incredibly flustered.
you should say something, but your eyes can’t help but linger where his hand was joined with the hand of the very lovely girl sitting beside him, even after he’s pulled away. oh my god. you’re interrupting, aren’t you? he’s moved on, but you’re standing there like an idiot. you need to say something. 
“i-i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to intrude,” you choke out. you don’t know why, but you feel like you’re about to cry. you feel so embarrassed. why did you even for a second think that this would play out any differently? 
“everybody out,” beomgyu says firmly. 
“what?” his date asks, genuinely in shock.
“i said, everybody else needs to get out of here. right now. besides you,” he says while gesturing to your pitiful frame.
“gyu, i live here,” yeonjun argues.
“out,” beomgyu repeats. yeonjun lifts his hands in surrender and leads the bewildered girls out of the apartment. 
now it's just you and beomgyu.
after the door shuts, the silence is as unbearable as it is palpable. beomgyu is staring at you with the same intensity as he was the night he confessed to you. you feel so vulnerable — so seen — you honestly kind of wish you had just snuck out with everyone else. 
“beomie, i’m so, so sorry. i didn’t mean to ruin your date. i can go, i just —” 
“do you know what i've noticed about you?” he quietly interrupts. you’re so taken aback, you’re stunned into silence. he sighs before he continues. “the way you say things are okay when someone fucks you over. it’s okay to be mad at me, you know?” 
“beomie, i’m not mad!” you insist. “you’re single, after all. i’m the one who —”
“i’m single, but i still told you i loved you a few days ago. why wouldn’t you be hurt?” once again, you’re left speechless at his maturity. when did he become more mature than you? or was he always this way, and you just never noticed?
“or is it that you just don’t care enough about me to be upset?” he's the one who looks small now and you worry you have the power to break him. he deserves an honest answer, so you think about how you felt when you saw his hand intertwined with that girl’s and your heart feels a nasty pang. 
“i… i am upset,” you pause and process that ugly feeling. “really upset, actually. but not angry.”
“i’m sorry,” he says, not without conviction. “yeonjun needed a date for his date’s friend, and i planned on rejecting her, but i’m really sorry i hurt you.” 
“... it’s alright,” you say carefully. “i understand. and i still think you don’t owe me anything, beomie.”
“but i want to owe you,” he says quietly.
“what do you mean?” you can’t help but ask. 
“i want to owe you. i want to make it up to you, and i want you to make it up to me.” you think you understand what he means. he wants you to make it up to him for not seeing him as he truly is all these years, but you just can’t understand his thinking.
“why?” you ask softly.
“why would you ask when you already know why?” he answers quietly with a sad smile. because he loves you.
“but why? why do you like me? you could have anyone. i’m wishy washy, i’m insecure. i’m just a mess, beomie. and i don’t want you to waste your time with me.” you hate the way your voice shakes. you wish, for once in your life, that you could be brave enough to say what you need to say without hesitating. you feel as small as a child, and in front of beomgyu of all people. but the dynamic you’ve always thought you had is becoming more and more twisted as you realize you’ve been very, very wrong about him, and maybe about yourself, too. beomgyu is not some kid. his feelings are not so easily written off, and that becomes even clearer when he says his next words in a haste. 
“don’t talk about yourself like that,” he says sharply, and his seriousness immediately derails your train of thought. “i’m not looking for anybody else. i… i don’t want anybody else. and i would never, ever feel like my time is wasted with you. every moment i spend with you is important to me.” you don’t mean for your eyes to get hot. truly, you don’t, but the boy’s words are so kind you’re unable to control yourself. 
“you really love me?” you ask at the risk of seeming annoying. you just have to be sure. 
“i do,” he says patiently. “i always have.” he isn’t sure what to make of you asking this. he has no hope now, but if it makes you feel better to hear him say he loves you a million times over, so be it. you’ve been hurt enough all your life, from your parents to your partners, if he’s able to comfort you even just a little bit, even if it’s never reciprocated, it’s enough for him. so he continues. 
“i’m… i’ve always thought about how to say this, so i’m sorry if it’s just too much for you. if it is, then just stop me, okay?” you can’t help but nod. “i just have to say that, to me, you are the most beautiful person in the world. i’ve wanted to tell you that since i was 14. i know you’re sad and i know you’ve been hurt before, and i wish i could take it all away. i’ve always wished i could take it all away. i know you think you deserve everything that’s happened to you so far, but i want you to know that that's not true, and it kills me that you’ve ever felt that way. i love everything you say you hate about yourself, because you’re you. i know you want to change, and i want you to know that i see how hard you’re trying. those flaws that make you a mess, or however you put it, only make me love you more because i can see how hard you’ve worked to get where you are. and if you don’t love me, even if you never do, that’s… it's okay. i just want you to be happy. and if i can be selfish, i want to be the one who helps you get there.” 
you don’t try to stifle your tears anymore. they are now flowing freely and your breath is heavy in your throat. he understands you. he sees you for everything that you are and were, and everything that you’re trying to be. has anyone ever made you feel this safe before? has anyone ever made you feel this loved and understood? 
you think back to what jia asked. when you didn’t have anyone else, who could you count on? if you didn’t trust any man in the world, you could trust beomgyu. that’s just how it is. you realize, even from the first night you met him, you’ve always been relying on him, in a way. why else would you feel so comfortable telling him about your anxieties mere hours after you spoke to him for the first time? 
things were one way then, but they could be different now. beomgyu loves you in a way that previously seemed inconceivable to you. what did you do to deserve this boy — this man? not a fucking thing, in your opinion, but now that you know how he really feels, is it possible to accept anything less than the love he is now presenting to you? maybe he’ll wake up one day and regret everything he’s said up until now, but you’re far too selfish to give up the heart he’s begging for you to take as your own.
you don’t know why, but you fling yourself into his arms, reminiscent of how you did all those years ago when he was just a teenage boy and you were just a heartbroken girl. he holds you like he did before, with an overwhelming sense of patience and security. he traces his hands lovingly up and down your back. 
“okay. okay, i want to try. i can’t promise that i’ll be perfect, i can’t even promise to be good, but i’ll try, okay? you’re so, so good, beomie. and i'm sorry for not realizing it sooner.”
he pulls away from your embrace and your cheeks feel hot when you catch his heated gaze. he looks down at you and if his look wasn’t enough, his next words certainly are:
“can i kiss you?”
“yes, beomie,” you whisper. 
"call me gyu," he says hoarsely. you gulp and pray he doesn't hear it.
he softly, reverently, pushes your stray hairs behind your ears and you realize he’s done so many times before. mainly when you were sad, but this time is… different. when his lips lock with yours, you're stunned into oblivion. there's so much fire behind it, but still, there’s a gentleness you’ve never known. as if he’s afraid of breaking you, he holds you like you’re a precious gem. usually, kisses are take take take from you, but he gives you so much love and care you feel like you’re floating. is this what love is supposed to feel like? so safe and so, so warm? 
he parts from you far too soon for your liking. his breath is labored and his cheeks are flushed. you look at him in confusion.
“i-i’m sorry, i just can't. if we keep going, i won't be able to control myself. i'm gonna —” 
“it's okay, gyu,” you whisper. “we can keep going.” he understands what you mean without you having to say anything more.
“are you sure?” he asks, just to be safe.
“i'm sure,” you answer without missing a beat. his lips curl up and he leads you to his bedroom, hand holding yours so tightly, it’s almost like he’s afraid to lose you.
-
the night is spent with beomgyu praising you like he’s never seen anything quite like you before. you feel his devotion with every passing moment and you can’t believe this is what you’ve been missing all these years. you’ve never felt so good, so cared for, in all your life. when you’re finished, and he’s cradling you in his arms, you’re both struggling to catch your breath. he looks at you like you hung the moon, but what you don’t know is that you’re starting look at him like that, too.
-
you’re so anxious. as you pull up to the choi’s family home in the passenger’s seat of beomgyu’s car, you can’t help but wring your hands together. this could be very good, or very, very bad. you can’t help but feel like you’re… betraying? the choi family by dating beomgyu. they’ve taken you in as family, but you’ve taken beomgyu as your own. do you regret that decision? well, you can’t say you do when beomgyu grabs your restless hands and comfortingly squeezes them before telling you “hey, it’s alright. don’t be nervous. i love you. they love you. everyone here loves you. just be yourself and i’ll take care of the rest, okay?” 
“okay,” you say shyly. you and beomgyu have been working on your self esteem. it was pretty slow going at first, but you’ve been pushing through. now, after three months, you’re a lot better, but there’s still room for improvement. beomgyu is nothing if not patient, though. after all, he’s been waiting for 8 years. how could he not be? and so he patiently coaxes you out of the car and into the house.
you two find your way inside and are greeted by his parents, jia, and yijun. nobody bats an eye at you two walking in together — they just greet and hug you as per usual, but their smiles drop and their faces turn serious when beomgyu announces he has something to tell everyone.
“guys, uh, we have something to tell you all,” he says, lacing his fingers with yours, “we’re together now.” you could hear a pin drop with how quiet the room is. mrs. choi is the first to break the silence.
“h-how long? how long has this been going on?” 
“three months,” he says cautiously. again, the room is silent.
“... only three? damn it!” mr. choi exclaims.
“i told you guys it hasn’t been very long,” jia sneers. “now pay up.” beomgyu’s parents grimace while pulling out their wallets and stuffing cash in jia’s hands.  
“pleasure doing business with you,” she teases with a shit-eating grin.
“um, guys? what’s going on? i’m kind of pouring my heart out over here,” beomgyu says irritatedly. 
“oh, honey. we know. we’ve known you liked her since she first stepped foot into our home. she was the only one who didn’t,” mrs. choi replies with a wave of her hand and your cheeks can’t help but heat up to an impossible degree. beomgyu finally pieces everything together while you’re still scrambling to understand what’s going on.
“oh my god, did you all make a bet to see how long it’d take for us to get together?!” beomgyu exclaims.
“more or less,” mr. choi says nonchalantly. realistically speaking, you and beomgyu should be angry, but all you two can do when you lock eyes with each other is laugh. 
“so you’re okay with it?” you ask meekly.
“of course we are!” mrs. choi says. “we couldn’t ask for a better match for our boy. we were just waiting for you to see that, too.” you can’t help but feel your eyes go sour. you hug his parents and they rub your hair. why would you think they’d do anything other than accept you? they always have.
that night, after all the board games and movies and laughter, you go out for some fresh air. you aren’t surprised in the slightest to see beomgyu sitting on the back porch steps, almost as if he’s been waiting for you. 
“there you are,” beomgyu says with a grin blooming on his face. you sit next to him, so close your thighs are touching. you lean your head against his shoulder and you sigh in contentment.
“that wasn’t so bad, was it?” he asks.
“not at all,” you smile, “but did everyone in the world know about us besides me?”
“pretty much, yeah,” he giggles and you playfully smack his chest. after your laughter dies down, beomgyu senses some hesitation from you. it feels like you want to say something to him.
“what is it?” he asks. you pull away from him and stare into his eyes. they look especially starry tonight.
“i have to tell you something,” you say, voice trembling slightly.
“mhm?” he nods.
“i think… actually, i know i love you, gyu. and i’m sorry it took me so long to get here, but i really do.” your eyes water when you see beomgyu’s doing the same. he looks so relieved, as if your words in particular are the ones he’s been waiting for all his life. and they are.
“i love you, too, if you haven’t guessed that already,” he says softly. “and i’d do everything all over again if it meant i’d get to be with you like this.” his eyes close and he leans in. you meet him halfway and press your lips together in a chaste kiss.
notes pt. 2: and that's it for them! i actually wrote a bit of smut for this, but i don't think it'll ever see the light of day i fear. as always, feedback is appreciated! i'd love to know what you all think :)
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crispywaffles2 · 1 month
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Hi I have a request! How about macaque and wukong (separate) acting over protective after if finding out their (female) s/o is pregnant? And how would they act throughout the whole pregnancy?
Please and thank you!
Hi! Of course I can, thank you so much for requesting! I'm not really versed in this particular field of romance or the struggles that it comes with, so I apologize if a lot of these seem out of character or unbearably tropey!
Overprotective Macaque & Wukong with a Pregnant!S/O
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Macaque:
The moment it's revealed that you're pregnant he's tweaking out
He doesn't know how to be a dad what the heck
But he also can't deny that he is kind of excited at the prospect of being able to take care of your child!
Or children?
Oh my gosh what if it's twins-
He's seen mortal babies and toddlers walking about in the streets with their parents, and he's well aware of how.. tiny... and stupid... and vulnerable they are
He never much cared for it, thinking that mortal children were weak for not immediately coming into the world with powers or some sense of right and wrong
But it's different with his child! He can't let the tiny, stupid, vulnerable kid in your stomach get hurt!
Rest assured that he's rearranging furniture to make it easier for you to maneuver around
He insists on going out with you everywhere, and if you were to ever voice that you were getting tired of it, then he'd eventually relent...
Maybe send a clone or two to watch you in the shadows without your knowledge, but other than that he'll leave you alone!
He will glare at anyone who's eyes linger on your growing belly bump for too long, giving them a silent warning not to come to close
He'll throw down his cape over a small puddle, gesturing for you to safely cross. He says it's a joke, but really he wants to look like a gentleman in front of you
Despite his overprotective nature, he will not fulfill your cravings without question
"A what?? Why on Earth would our baby need to eat that?? They probably don't even like it!"
Other than your strange food requests, he's happy, eager even to help fulfill anything else
Worried about the stretch marks forming in your stomach? He'll tell you about how they remind him of battle scars and shows off his scars to you to make you feel better
"See? We're both warriors."
In pain from bad cramps? He's secretly panicking and making bad jokes while tending to you because he's nervous.
Stays by your side all the time just in case you start feeling pain. He wants to be there for you
Secretly reads books and looks up videos for first time dads when he thinks no one is looking
He's a warrior! A master of the shadows!
Sly, cunning, teasing, playful, sure!
But a father?
He couldn't even picture himself holding a baby
When the delivery finally happens he is such a Karen
Might as well hire him as a doctor, considering how he practically tried to deliver the baby himself
Eventually though he composes himself and stands in the corner fidgeting nervously
He's never been one to cry, not even in his brotherhood days, but the tears that welled up in his eyes when he held your child couldn't be helped
Instinctively starts trying to groom the baby
It's all over now. You're not pregnant, and the baby is finally here
He's still pretty protective of you, and his child even moreso
All that he could think as he looked into the eyes of your writhing, still slightly damp, baby was those nine months of making frankly disgusting foods were worth it
Wukong:
Absolutely flips when the bomb is dropped that you're pregnant
He genuinely doesn't know what to do
He's not sure if he should be excited that he's going to be a dad or worried that he's going to be a dad
We all know Wukong is protective of those he loves and carries a guilty conscience about including them in his messes
He knows that pretending he knows what he's doing won't get him out of every situation. He knows how many messes he pulls people into. He knows that his lingering 'do now ask questions later' mentality can put those he loves in danger
And now he has a baby too??
It takes a bit, but he eventually starts to warm up to the idea
He's the monkey king! And he'll teach his child to be better than him. Stronger, smarter! Well, not that much stronger because then he wouldn't really hold the crown the one of the strongest beings and he would not be able to handle that
Still though, he'll raise this baby and change his ways doing so
He's cartwheeling all over the place after a while just from pure excitement
Trust and believe this man is NOT reading any baby books or watching any videos. He doesn't need some mortal telling him how to raise his kid. He's the Great Sage
Whether that's a good or bad thing is up to interpretation
He'll rant to his monkeys about all of the things he'll teach the child, and he does it with so much excitement that even they get pumped up
Will try to speculate it's gender and appearance with you
"Maybe it'll have your pretty eyes and my handsome jawline! Or maybe it'll have your hair and a little tail like it's dad!"
Makes little baby toys out of sticks and leafs
He is actually super overprotective of you, but tries to pretend he's just being casual
"Where are you going? Not that I care or anything... You're trying to go to the store?? Babe, you should totally just.. stay here with me. I can make one of my clones do the shopping."
Will furiously stammer and insist that he's not worried about you if you ask
He knows you can handle yourself! It's just... You're all pregnant and vulnerable and round and he's such a worrywart about you!
He thinks that if anything even gently bumps your tummy the baby won't grow or something, so he's constantly paranoid
Rearranges furniture so it's easier for you to get around
He even cleans up just to lighten your load a bit! He must really love you!
He's actually super eager about people looking at your belly bump in public and will absolutely go off on a tangent about how his beautiful partner is about to have a beautiful baby and it's going to be beautiful
But if someone gets a little too close to you he will not hesitate to push them down or maybe accidentally give them a broken wrist if they reach out to touch your stomach
Is confused about why everyone isn't literally bowing to you while you're walking the streets
Genuinely got upset when you two were walking through a crowd and he had to hold you because people wouldn't just part for the pregnant woman walking through
"What?? Ten dollars for this? You do know my partner is pregnant right? This should be free for her! Everyday is a struggle for her! You'd have no idea what she's been through and you're charging her ten dollars-"
He's an absolute Karen
Suggests putting a pillow over your stomach
"That way you won't bump into anything and our child can be cozy!"
Because Wukong is an absolute hazard in the kitchen, he's concocted a crazy amount of different foods
He has no problem fulfilling your strange food requests and even eats them with you
"Oh my goodness! I love crab cakes with syrup!! I'll make some for both of us bud."
Has like three different emergency plans for when you're in pain
The moment you lurch forward or let out a groan he's on it
With a snap of his fingers his monkeys are all marching over to help you sit down in a single file line
He sits there and soothes you as best as he can while his monkeys scamper around trying to get anything you request
When it's finally time Wukong is genuinely confused, thinking that it's just contractions or something, but you keep yelling at him and saying "IT'S TIME!!"
Time for what?? Lunch or...?
Thinking the baby is talking to him through you, he hoists you up on his somersault cloud and zips off
When the doctor gives him a strange look and tells him you're just about to have your baby he freaks out
He tries to help in any way he can, holding your hand, breathing with you
Offers to help with the delivery of the baby
"Oh, looks like it's a bit stuck. Need a little help there bud?"
Losing his mind in the corner of the room but trying to play it cool for you and the doctors.
"Why is it slimy?" Are quite literally the first words that come out of his mouth when the baby is delivered
When he finally has his child in his arms he's all over it
Kisses, cooing, holding, hugging or even just staring at it
He may not know much about being a father, but he will try his best to teach his child not to go down the path he did because he already loves it to the moon and back
153 notes · View notes
selarina · 5 months
Text
And I'm Asking You to Hold Me Just Like the Morning Paper
-> older brother’s best friend!Gojo Satoru
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Gojo Satoru grew up lonely. He’s not only the freak whose mere existence altered the balance of the world, but he’s also the only one of his kind. There’s no more after or before him. There may be one, born hundreds of years from now, who will understand him, but for now, for today, he stands all alone.
But then Getou comes along, and he starts to feel like he can stand beside someone. Getou will never understand what it means to be him, but he understands him in most ways no one else does, and it thaws his heart just a little. But then he meets you, and you—you’re just the worst parts of Getou.
You understand Getou like no one does, despite your differences in looks and techniques. You have the same blood flowing through your veins, so you get him in so many ways he could never.
That’s when he starts craving for what you and Getou have, while also hating you all the same. Your mere presence has managed to single-handedly make him feel even more alone. Of course, he hates you.
He wouldn’t ever say it out loud; you're Getou’s sister, and Getou loves you more than the world itself, so he would never. But it shows—sometimes he just so forgets to pull out a seat for you.
Some days, he forgets to invite you out with the group.
Some years, he even forgets your birthday. But Getou never believes him, even if you do. Gojo remembers the day you were born so vividly; he was there alongside Getou, after all. He saw your father's hands tremble as he held you. He later saw Getou's hands do the same. It was the strangest thing.
He also got to hold you when you were born, and it was the first newborn he had held, the most insane experience he had at the age of three. So, of course, he remembers.
So one day, you grow tired of it because you grew up idolizing this man. He’s an idiot, and he’s always embarrassing himself in ways you didn’t think were possible, but he’s just so—well, he’s Gojo Satoru, right? There’s something about him.
There are so many things about him—he’s pretty good-looking for starters. Sometimes when he stands under the sun, you think he’s no short of an angel. And he has these eyes; you see them so rarely now, but when you were a child, you thought you could see the ocean in his eyes.
One time you told Getou, and he told Gojo, who wouldn’t—no, doesn’t shut up about it.
And it’s not just his looks really—one time, you saw him save not only you but 53 other people from a building that was making its way to crush you all. You could’ve moved and saved yourself, but you didn’t see the point, not when that meant living with the fact that you couldn’t save those 53 people, but things like that came easy to a man of his capabilities.
You could go on and on about how you came to form a crush on Gojo Satoru, but the fact of the matter is—your pride matters more, and you decided that after 16 years of pining after him, the least you could start doing is pick up your pride and find other options.
Your heart may not find them instantly, still slightly transfixed on the man who bleeds gold, but eventually, you think you’ll move on.
So when the popular guy from your class asks you out—you think, “Why the hell not?”
And so, you find yourself on a date with a man who’s really into furniture and protein shakes apparently. It’s all you’ve gotten out of the conversation you’ve had with him. And frankly, he doesn’t compare.
But you tell yourself over and over again, as you begin to zone out—that this is to be expected. No one compares to Gojo Satoru, a man who’s entirely too unique to supersede or replicate, so it’s only natural. It’ll take time.
So you try, the fake laughter and soft brush of your fingers. You focus on the little things and you try to beat the sleep dawning on you.
That’s when Gojo sees you. You’re wearing a blue dress that hangs just above your bruised knees. Your hair is down but slightly styled and pulled up halfway by a clip, and beside you, there’s a guy.
The guy you’re with, his hand slips around your back, ushering you into the elevator, and Gojo thinks he’s never felt something so sinister boil in his gut before. He clenches down hard on his jaw. He doesn’t understand.
Are you with this guy? No, there’s no way. Is this a random guy bothering you? If he was—he’d be on the floor, pleading for his life. So no—it can’t be.
He doesn’t think at all, really, but he rushes towards the elevator before it closes. Only when it starts to close after he gets in does he notice his date—and then he snaps out of his daze to hold the door open.
She looks surprised but joins him by his side, and now you and your date stare at him in surprise.
“Are you Gojo Satoru?” your date speaks up.
“Yeah,” he grins as he pulls his glasses down. “That’s me.”
“Can I have a picture with you? My mother practically worships you,” he continues.
And Gojo turns his attention to you, and your eyes have grown stone cold, and he immediately turns his attention back to the guy, not wanting to be subject to you staring daggers at him.
“Of course, I always have time for fans,” he maintains his grin.
“Who even are you?” he hears his date murmur, and frankly, there’s more to this story. His date wasn’t entirely a fan of his at the moment. He was late to the date, and he got caramel chocolates which she mentioned she hates. He disappeared on a bathroom break but really, he was halfway across town fighting off a curse that could’ve been taken care of by an amateur, and on his way back, he started wondering if he was really needed there or if he just wanted to leave the date.
So, yeah, when the elevator dings and the doors open up to the ground floor, he’s not entirely surprised that she’s saying goodbye, but he is surprised by this.
“Not to sound like a bitch—” she starts. “—but you need to learn how to be a better date. I understand that boys your age are slow in the brain, but it doesn’t take a genius to send a text if you’re running late.”
Just when he thinks she’s done, she’s talking again, as though she only stopped to take a breath in— “And I know that wasn’t a bathroom break, who even is gone for that long and comes back smelling like he bathed in perfume when he didn’t a moment ago. And for God’s sake, don’t go out on a date if you’re in love with your best friend's sister,” she says.
“God’s sake, what is wrong with you?” is the last thing he hears from her as she makes her way out.
“So,” your date begins. “About that photo?”
“Chimin,” you bat his shoulder. “Not now.”
“But he—”
“It’s fine, give me your phone,” Gojo says, and he’s less chipper now, although he does a good job of maintaining the facade.
He poses with a peace sign, and he pats your date on the back.
“Uh, thank you, sir,” your date says before he turns to you, his arm reaching your waist. “Shall we go? I was thinking there’s a park—”
“It’s cold out,” Gojo’s voice comes out abruptly, leaving your date’s mouth agape.
“I mean, I should probably take you home,” he says, situating himself right next to you now. “You can expect a text about that second date. What was it you said? Oh yeah, a park date. Heh,” he scoffs. “Sure.”
“So sorry,” you start. “I’ll text you. It is pretty cold, and I’d rather get home now. Thank you for the date; you were lovely,” you say with a smile before you lean in for a hug as he kissed you on the cheek.
“It’s alright. Text me when you’re home safe,” he says mirroring your smile, only his feels a little more real than yours. “I’ll wait for the text.”
So as you make your walk back home with Gojo, you pull his coat tighter around yourself. Gojo doesn't say anything as he walks beside you, and for a moment, the silence between you two is almost soothing.
You steal a glance at him, and his lips remain unreadable, his expression hidden behind those ever-present sunglasses.
"So," he finally breaks the silence, his tone light but something else lingers beneath the surface. "You're dating now, huh?"
You merely nod, trying to keep your composure. "Yeah, kinda."
Gojo smirks, and you can feel his gaze on you, "Interesting choice. He did seem more into me than he was into you if I'm being honest."
"Haha, it's a pity. I pegged him for a man with good taste, what with the Toyota Crown he promised to take me on a ride on and whatnot."
"Do we really want to go there?" he turns to you, bending down, as he smiles all in your face. "You don't want to go there."
Your heart quickens just a bit, caught between a fine line of annoyance and amusement. You tilt your head, looking back at him through narrowed eyes. "And where exactly is 'there,' Satoru?"
He chuckles. It's a low, throaty sound. " 'There' is a dangerous place, sweetheart. A place where your date, no matter how charming, can't compete with me, Gojo Satoru."
You roll your eyes at his arrogance. "Ever the egotistical maniac. You're insufferable, you know that?"
"I am?" he replies, with playful obliviousness.
As soon you approach your home, you stop in front of the door, turning as you awkwardly wave at him. "Well, um, bye."
"Bye," he replied back. He doesn't motion for you to return his jacket back, but honestly, you're disappointed in yourself. You should've asked him about what his date meant. You should've said something.
"Actually—" you start. "Do you want some tea? It's cold."
He doesn't get cold easily, he wants to say, but he'd play weaker if he could spend a millennium cooped up in your house. "Sure," he says.
He walks in, and there's silence. "No one's home?" he asks.
"Yeah," you say. "They should be back soon though."
He hums in response, through muscle memory alone, as though dragged by strings he removes and places his shoes in the rack. The same place he's been placing them for years. And then, he blindly follows you down to the kitchen.
The kitchen is dimly lit, the only source of light coming from the small hanging lamp above the kitchen slab. You set the kettle on the stove, the sound of its soft whistle filling the room as it begins to heat up. Gojo takes a seat at the table, his fingers tapping absentmindedly on its surface.
You busy yourself with preparing the tea, the gentle rustle of tea bags as you move them. There's a muted grassy smell that's emanating from the tea, but it's not strong enough to overwrite all the tension in the air, a lingering curiosity that just won't leave you alone.
"So," Gojo begins, breaking the silence. "That guy, you really going to go on a second date with him?"
You glance over your shoulder, meeting his gaze. "I don't know. Maybe. He's nice."
He smirks, leaning back in the chair. "That's nice."
"What about you? How did your date go? You know apart from terrible," you grin.
"Well, it was also 'horrible'," he says, mirroring your grin.
"Date with Gojo and horrible. Seems about right," you say.
"Oh, come on. It was an off-day. I can be a very good date," he says.
"Why was she so mad then?" you ask. "Your date."
"Well, I'm sure you heard most of it," he starts, truly wanting to know if you did, but your expression remains muted. He can't tell, but it seems obvious. It's why he's here and not halfway back home, after all. "But I, uh, I got her caramel chocolates."
You wait.
"She hates caramel," he adds with a small pout.
"Ah, smooth. I've changed my mind about you, Gojo Satoru, you would make the best date ever."
He grins. "Thank you, kindly."
Your tea seems about done, so you reach up, opening the cabinet, but the classes are placed too far back for your height. And generally, you'd pull a chair and get the cups, but before you could, Gojo's right behind you, reaching for it before you could move back. He pulls out two cups, one plain pink one with hearts and another white mug with a bear on it. His and yours.
It reaches the slab with a soft clink, but before Gojo can move away, you speak up, "So, what did she mean?"
"What are you talking about?" He asks, plainly.
"You know," you say, stressing, as you turn to face him. You're so close to him now, but he doesn't move back. For once, he doesn't move back. You gulp, "You know what, Satoru."
"I don't," he says. His grin is gone, and his lips are in a line. You've never truly seen him this way.
"Bullshit, what did she mean by 'you like your friend's sister'?" you almost half-yell.
"Ignore her. She was just talking nonsense because she was mad at me."
"Was she, though?" you press, studying his expression more closely now.
He resigns with a sigh, as he begins to move. "Yes. Now, drop it."
"No," you say, as your hand comes up to hold his own. "So, she was just making it up?" you ask, incredulously.
"Yes," he says.
"And you don't like me?" you ask. This time, you move closer to him, his lips practically a few centimeters away from yours.
"Look, it doesn't matter what she said. I was just trying to save your date, be a good friend to your brother, and all that."
You scoff, trying to mask the lingering disappointment. "Save my date? By ruining it completely?"
"How did I ruin it?" he asks.
"Oh? I don't know, the same way you always ruin things for me. Just by showing u—"
And that's all it took, really. For his lips to meet yours. His hands find themselves on your hips as yours rest on your shoulder and his chest. Your lips move roughly against his. It's not like any of those soft first kisses you see on TV. This one feels like yearning. You feel it in your heart and in the way your arms tug his body into your own.
When he pulls off, you feel strangely disappointed.
"I'm serious. If you didn't show up, that could've gone somewhere," you say. A little proud of yourself for not giving in so easily.
"Gone where exactly? The park? You know you deserve more than the fucking park."
"What? Sure, I wouldn't end up married to this guy, but does it matter? I was moving on," you say with a shrug.
"Moving on from what exactly?" he asks.
"From you, obviously stupid."
Gojo's expression shifts, a mixture of surprise and something else, something you can't quite read. Your grip on his hand tightens just a bit, and for a moment, neither of you says anything.
"Moving on from me?" he finally repeats, his voice softer than before.
"Yeah, Satoru, from you." You pull your hand away, breaking the contact.  "It's about time, isn't it?"
The kettle on the stove whistles, signaling that the water is ready for the tea, but neither of you moves to attend to it.
"Look," he starts, his tone serious, "I didn't mean to mess up your date. I was just trying to have some fun and play the hero for a bit. I didn't think you'd actually be interested in that guy."
"Well, you thought wrong," you reply, crossing your arms. "I was giving it a shot, trying to move on. But you can't resist bringing everything back to you, can you?"
"I'm sorry, okay? I didn't think it through." His shoulders slump a bit, and he runs a hand through his hair as his head falls onto your shoulder. "I just... I couldn't stand seeing you with someone else."
"So, your date wasn't wrong then?" you say.
"Yeah," he says, and you feel the breath of his words on your neck. "I guess, she wasn't."
The kettle continues to whistle, now completely forgotten in the background.
"I don't believe you," you say.
"What?" he looks up now, his eyes looking at your face. "I just told—"
"You can tell me whatever you want," you say, frustrated. "But you don't even remember my birthday. How could you like me if—"
"I remember," he says. "I remember your birthday."
"But you—"
"I know, I know, baby." His hands come up to hold your cheek. "It's stupid, but I guess I was scared. It's stupid and not an excuse. But of course, I remember your birthday. I could never forget."
"Scared?" you repeat. "Scared of what, Satoru?"
"It's not that simple. You're Getou's sister. I can't just..."
"Can't just what?" you challenge, even if his thumb moving against the supple of your cheek thaws your heart red. "You can't just admit that maybe, just maybe, I'm worthy of being liked by you?"
"It's not that," he sighs, frustration evident in his expression. "It's complicated, okay? I didn't want to complicate things between us. I didn't want to risk our— whatever it is that we have between us."
"I get it," you say, a few moments later to his surprise and your own.
"You do?"
"Yeah," you say, reaching up to leave a soft kiss on his lips. Soft. Delicate. Like your touch could break him. "I do. I really do, and we'll figure it out, okay?"
His ears perk up as he turns, and the soft purring of the car engine comes to a halt. He can't believe he didn't notice your parents pulling in with your brother.
Your hands reach out to hold his own, and he realizes that they're trembling, just a little. And he gets it now. To love is to be afraid.
337 notes · View notes
forever-rogue · 10 months
Note
Hiiii 🐻
What about an Eddie fic where they are at an award show nominated in the same category but they are exs. They ended things because right person wrong time type of deal. His career took off and hers was in the early stages.
And he wins the award and spots her in the crowd
Link for reference
https://www.tiktok.com/@editsmcu/video/7045316909562219782?lang=en
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AN | I changed the prompt just a little but I hope y’all enjoy! 🥰
Warnings | Language
Pairing | Modern!Rockstar!Eddie x Fem!Reader
Word Count | 2.7k
Masterlist | Main, Eddie 
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
"He's going to be there, you know," the soft tone of her voice caused you to look up from your phone as you caught her eye in the mirror. Your grip around your phone tightened as her expression turned doe-eyed, "Eddie. His band is nominated for a few awards."
You knew that, of course you did. You wouldn't admit that you still closely kept up with what was going on with him. But, despite the fact that you'd broken up almost a year ago, you still cared deeply for him. 
"Oh," you swallowed the thick lump that had welled up in your throat, trying to keep the tears at bay, "well, that's alright. These things will continue to happen and I'll just have to learn to deal with it."
"You'll be okay?" She finished up your hair and settled her gentle hands on your shoulders. She gave you a tender squeeze as you nodded, "if you need anything, you can always text or call me. I'm not your hairdresser but your friend too, and I'm here for you."
"I'll be alright," you promised, heart constricting at the kindness she displayed, "I'll just have to learn how to deal."
"You'll do great, my love," her smile was gentle, "you're solid gold and one day you'll find exactly what you're looking for."
What if you had lost what you had been looking for?
"Thank you."
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
Eddie was sprawled on the couch in the studio, scrolling endlessly through his social media. A heavy sigh escaped his lips despite his best efforts; he was feeling a type of way he couldn’t quite explain. It wasn’t bored or tired or…anything really, just sort of down. 
“Hey man,” Jeff sat down at the opposite end of the couch causing Eddie to lift his head in question, “I just heard that umm…well, she is going to be there tomorrow night.”
Eddie tried not to let his face light up entirely but it was hard not to perk up at even the smallest mention of you. His heart ached as he pictured your face; it had been so long since he’d even seen you in person. To put it quite frankly, it sucked. 
“Oh?” He tried to keep his voice as nonchalant as possible but even he could hear the curiosity in his voice, “how did you find that out?”
“Seth told me,” ah. Of course their manager would know all about that, “wonder why she’s going. She’s not even a musician, just an actor…maybe she’s someone’s date or something…”
“Date?” and yeah he almost choked on that singular word. The idea of you going on a date made anger bubble in his blood, “you don’t seriously think that she’s dating someone, do you?”
“I dunno man,” Jeff shrugged lightly, “I mean…you were the one that broke up with her. And it’s been almost a year. She's going to date someone else eventually."
"I know!" He snapped, rubbing his tired face with his hands. Jeff recoiled slightly from Eddie's sudden sharpness. He knew that you were still a sore subject for him and he'd hope to negate any bad feelings by warning him that you'd be there. But now he was wondering if he'd made a mistake - maybe Eddie wouldn't even have noticed you.
"I'm sorry, Ed. You'll be alright," he offered him a tight lipped smile, "and it'll be over before we know it."
"Yeah," he replied dismissively, raking a hand through his messy curls, "let's fucking hope so."
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
"You look amazing."
You studied yourself intently in the mirror, staring at the dark pink dress that you were currently sporting. Your mind had immediately drifted to wondering if Eddie would have liked your dress. He always enjoyed the fact that you were so opposite of him. Sunshine and rain, he'd always said, balancing each other out.
So much for that. But you tried not to dwell on the past. You'd already given into the fact that you would ever be completely over him. A part of your heart would always belong to him.
"Thanks," you smiled but it didn't quite reach your eyes. You were nervous going to the awards show tonight, even if you were just going to accompany one of your friends. 
Your stylist touched up your hair and set your makeup before letting you go. After you slipped on your heels and waited for your ride, you couldn't help but go on to IG and scroll through photos of the red carpet to see who had already arrived. 
Everything was fine until you reached a post that caused your heart to almost stop. There was Eddie, looking as gorgeous as ever, standing on the red carpet with the rest of his band members. You'd be lying if you said you weren't relieved to see that he didn't have a date.
Not that it mattered. Of course not. It was all peaches and he could do whatever he wanted. Even if it would break your heart a little further.
"Your chariot has arrived ," you looked up when you saw Angelica walk through the door. You let out a sigh of relief when you saw her standing there, looking as amazing as you hoped you did too, "ready to go?"
"Yup," you grabbed your bag and walked over to her but you could tell that something was on her mind, "what's wrong?"
"I…Gareth texted me a little while ago. They're already all there," she gave your shoulder as a squeeze. You appreciated all the concern but it really wasn't helping. It would have been preferable to just have everyone ignore the blatant obviousness that Eddie would be there.
"It's fine," you insisted softly, "really. I'd rather just not worry about it at all. It is what it is; he broke up with me and that's it."
"Babe-"
"Seriously," you took her hand and squeezed it gently, "let's just go and have fun."
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
One of the many wonderful things about Eddie was that he didn’t really care what anyone thought of him. Even as a world famous rockstar, he couldn’t really be bothered to worry about that. So he didn’t worry about the way he looked around the crowd, blatantly obvious as he scanned the sea of people for you. Unabashed and unashamed as ever. 
Just when he’d almost given up, he found you. Clear across the room, looking stunning as ever and sitting among your friends. He knew them all and he knew that you wouldn’t be anyone’s date, not like that anyway, and that served to put him at ease. A silly, dopey little smile tugged up the corner of his mouth. 
But then he remembered - you weren’t his. Not anymore and more than likely never again. 
“You gonna keep staring all night?” Eddie’s cheeks pinked as he turned his gaze away and back to Jeff, “you couldn’t be anymore obvious!”
“Shut up,” Eddie hissed as he shifted in his seat so he couldn’t look at you as easily, “it was just one look.”
“Mhmm,” he raised an eyebrow and pulled up his phone, showing Eddie a few articles that had already popped up. All about the two of you - speculation that this meant that the two of you were back together or fans attempting to manifest it, “you’re only going to make it worse.”
Eddie folded his arms across his chest and shrugged, “it’ll be fine. Let’s just hope this night goes fast.”
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
A few hours had passed, in relative ease and peace, and you were relieved to know that it was almost over. Then you could go home, have a hot bath with a glass of wine, and get some much needed sleep. 
But then the award that Eddie’s band was nominated for was announced. You listened to the announcer rattle off the nominees, heart beating wildly in your chest as you hoped that he didn’t win. It was so incredibly selfish, you knew that much, but it was just all too much at once. 
Corroded Coffin won, which didn’t really didn’t come as a surprise to you or anyone else. It was a well deserved and hard fought win, and you knew it should have been them. You clapped along with everyone around you, watching the stage closely as the guys walked on, with Eddie coming up last. Suddenly it seemed like he was the only one in the room and you couldn’t take your eyes off him. He looked good, but worst of all he still looked just like Eddie. 
He hung back as the rest of the band all spoke, but you could see him scanning the crowd. When it was finally his turn, he laughed nervously before looking out into the audience and somehow managing to find you. His eyes looked with yours as a small gasp escaped your lips. You knew that he was aware that he was staring right at you. A smile spread on his face, easy and soft just like the one he’d blessed you with so many times. Despite everything that had happened you couldn’t help but smile back at him. 
It didn’t matter what he was saying, you were only vaguely away of it, the moment was all that mattered. People scattered throughout the audience seemed to catch onto what was happening; you could hear them tittering about and looking at you and back at Eddie. It made your face warm up but none of that mattered. The moment belonged solely to you and Eddie. 
Unfortunately it was over much too soon for your liking and the boys were herded off stage. You turned your attention back to the table and you could feel the silent questions being thrown your way. Ignoring them all you grabbed your glasses and chugged down the rest of the champagne. 
What a series of unfortunate, or perhaps fortunate, events.
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
After it was all said and done and you were ready to head home, insisting on taking a cab so and skipping the afterparty, much to Angelica’s dismay, you made your way out of the building, heels in hand. It was quiet here and allowed you a few moments to breathe and absorb all that happened. 
Then you heard your name being called out. Urgently and loudly, in a voice you’d heard so many times before. You had two options - keep walking and pretend you hadn’t heard or didn’t care, or face him. You knew which one you wanted, long before the opportunity had even presented itself. 
You turned around and found Eddie running towards you, his curls bouncing wildly. He didn’t stop until he was right in front of you, attempting to catch his breath. 
“Eddie?” your voice was small, so soft he almost didn’t hear it. You opened and closed your mouth a few times, trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach, “what are you doing here?”
“You,” he said softly as your expression turned doe-eyed; that look always made him look weak in the knees, “miss you - had to see you.”
“You missed me?” he nodded, taking a last gasping breath before straightening up and looked at you.Your brain felt like it was turning to much as you tried to process everything taht was going, “what do you mean?”
“I fucked up,” he shrugged and threw up his arms in exasperation. He was so mad at himself for ever letting you go, “I fucked up and I lost and I just…I really fucking miss you.”
“Eddie, you’re the one that broke up with me,” you blinked back tears as he ran a hand through his messy curls, “but now you miss me?”
“I should never have broken up with you,” he shook his head, a bitter laugh escaping those plush lips you so desperately missed kissing, “biggest mistake ever.”
“Then why did you?”
“I…I thought I was doing the right thing,” he explained, “I thought I was going enough for you and with things really taking off with the band, it felt like I didn’t have enough time for you and didn’t treat you the way you deserve to be treated. It seemed like the right thing at the time. I figured that maybe you would fine someone that deserves you but honestly, I really hate the fucking idea of anyone else having you.”
“Oh. Oh,” the realization crashed over you like ice cold waves, “well, I admit the idea behind breaking up with me was admirable, but deciding how I felt wasn’t exactly your choice. I never thought you weren’t good enough or didn’t give me enough of you. Eddie, I was so in love with you, nothing else mattered. We could have figured things out together - we always have. I never wanted anyone else, and no one even crossed my mind. Even now, almost a year later.”
“Really?” he choked on his question, feeling his own eyes start to burn with tears.
“Yeah,” you promised him, reaching over to give his arm a gentle squeeze, “it’s getting late. I should head home.”
“Ba - wait-”
“It was good to see you,” and you meant it. It was good to see him, and hear him out, and maybe it would serve as a bit of closure. You tried to walk away, but he held onto your hand and gently kept you from walking away, “Eddie?”
“Wait, just,” he stammered as he tried to format even a coherent sentence, “I-I love you. I’m still in love with you, I never stopped. Fuck, I don’t ever want anyone else. No one, just you.”
“Eddie-”
“Give me another chance,” those words made your mouth drop open as you blinked at him a few times, “please. I’ll do anything, just…don’t walk away. I don’t deserve another chance, and I’m an asshole, I know that. But please…one chance is all I’m asking for. I don’t think that this is the end of our story, I think that we’re-”
You caught him by surprise, cutting off his rambling by taking his face in your hands and pressing your lips to his. It was the first time you’d kissed him in so long, but it still felt so right, so magically wonderful. His large, warm hands settled on your waist as he pulled you into him and continued to kiss you deeply. 
Neither of you were willing to break apart until you were both left dizzied and breathless. He pressed his forehead to yours, a smile dancing on his lips as you exchanged soft chuckles. 
“You’re an idiot, Eddie Munson,” you whispered before pressing a kiss to his lips, “but you’re my idiot. And I think you’re right…”
“Hmm?”
“I’ve never thought about anyone else but you either,” that made his entire face light up with happiness, “and I think you and I have a very long story ahead of us.”
“Yeah?” 
“Yes,” you promised, “you’re it for me, rockstar. You always have been and will be.”
“Baby,” he let out a slow breath, feeling like he was able to properly breathe for the first time in a long time. He took your face and peppering it in kisses, causing you to giggle at the ticklish sensation, “let me take you on a date. Let’s go right now.”
“It’s almost one in the morning-” 
“And our favorite diner is open 24/7,” and yeah. You were in love with this fool, “and I don’t know about you but I’m starving. The little bits of fancy food they served were definitely not enough. Whaddaya say?”
“Let’s go,” you moved to slip your heels back on but Eddie stopped. He kneeled down and motioned for you to get on his back; you laughed but did so nonetheless, climbing onto his back as he held onto your heels. You pressed a kiss to his shoulder before closing your eyes and inhaling his familiar scent, “I love you, Eddie.”
“I love you too, baby. So fuckin’ much.”
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benedictscanvas · 10 months
Text
filling an empty vase - roy kent x reader
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pairing: roy kent x reader
word count: 3.4k (genuinely don't know how that happened)
warnings: language (duh) and some suggestive themes. the word shagging, which is too british not to include i'm afraid
a/n: this was an anonymous request that i'm not going to put here because it kinda ruins the whole plot! but it was such a fabulous request, so thank you anon, for giving me so much space to play. if you're not sure this is your request, you mentioned "Mr I Never Smile Kent" which funnily enough, made me smile!! enjoy sunflowers <3
---
You were such a professional in so many ways, but yet again you found your focus drifting during your meeting with the rest of the coaches. Your eyes find Roy’s face with such ease, lingering on the newly thicker beard he’s been sporting recently, then travelling down to broad shoulders, ones that fill out the door frame so nicely when he folds his arms. You’re so lucky he’s always folding his arms.
Before you can move onto admiring those arms, you see his head turn towards you and you look away before you can be caught. Instead of glancing at his face to see if he’s still looking at you, you decide it’s easier to join the conversation. As the goalkeeping coach, there isn’t always much you can contribute to these discussions, but they’re very insistent on including you.
“The only thing you need to be careful of is their counter-press,” you chime in, “Mind that the boys don’t get complacent in possession or my guy will be a sitting duck out there.”
“Good thinkin, Abe Lincoln. Why don’t we add that to our pre-game talk, coach, make sure someone’s watchin’ Zoreaux’s back at all times?”
“Already writing it down, coach,” Beard replied, gaining a double thumbs up from Ted who then continued talking. Even though you’d hardly been listening, you knew to do enough research beforehand so that you were free to let your mind wander and only speak up with a few key points.
You tune back in when you recognise the gruff tone of the very man you’re trying not to admire again.
“No. Y/N stole my fucking thing. I’ve gone over the rest in training,” he says dryly, and you duck your head to your lap to hide your smirk. Of course the two of you were on the same page about strategy, you always were. Usually he got to say it before you though, “Can we go now?”
“Unless anyone’s got anythin’ they want to add?” Ted looks around at everyone’s blank and frankly, very tired faces, “Not even somethin’ personal? Deep dark secret? Scandalous love affair, that kinda thing? Higgins, you look like there’s somethin’ right on the tip of that tongue.”
“I’m leaving,” Roy announced, walking into his office and shutting the door, even going so far as to shut the blinds on both windows before he presumably sat at his desk. You sighed and got up from your perch on the desk to take a step towards the dressing room.
“Afraid I’ve got some work to get done before I go home too,” you say, trying to be at least slightly nicer than Roy about it, “We can get personal tomorrow, alright Ted?”
He agrees with a happy grin on his face and you say goodbye to him, Beard and Trent collectively with a salute before turning on your heel and waving a goodbye to any of the team still around as you leave. You don’t go far. Unable to help yourself, you knock on Roy’s office door from the other side and shuffle your weight between your feet as you wait.
“Fuck off,” comes the greeting, so you open the door and slip inside.
“Even if it’s me?”
His head turns at the sound of your voice and suddenly his features look a special kind of soft, even in the harsh overhead lighting. He swivels his chair fully to face you, but makes no other move.
“Especially if it’s you,” he confirms, folding his arms again like he knew the effect he had on you, “You’re a fucking pervert.”
You gasp, clutching at the door handle behind you in a show of shock.
“I’m a what?”
“You heard me. Staring at me like you do in meetings wasn’t in your job description when we hired you, last I checked.”
“Last I checked, shagging your goalkeeping coach wasn’t in your job description, but you made pretty quick work of it.”
That was enough to get him moving. He’s quick out of his chair for a man with a bad knee, quick to crowd you against the wall just next to the door. Someone would have to really peer in to see the two of you, something he’d probably calculated even though your mind was already blank at the new proximity. 
“You’re right,” he says, voice sinfully low, hands either side of your hips but not touching you yet, “And I was staring at you the whole fucking meeting anyway, so I’m a pervert and a hypocrite.”
“Well, I don’t know if I can keep on with you if you’re both. One of them, maybe I can look past it, but both?”
Finally, one hand comes off the wall to stroke a line down your side with the backs of his knuckles. You try not to give him the satisfaction of shivering, but fail miserably.
“Think you can brave it?” he murmurs, that same hand brushing along your cheekbone, still all rough knuckles instead of his palm, “I’ll take you to Big Tesco later.”
Your whole face brightens despite the heavy tension that had settled like a mist in the room. You reach up to gently hold his wrist, stroking a thumb back and forth over the pulse that jumped there.
“Shit, you know the way to a girl’s heart, Kent,” you whisper, syrupy and cloying, “I take it all back. We can go as long as you like.”
The innuendo drew the growl from him that you’d been hoping for. The hand at your cheek was quick to turn until he was cupping your face and pulling you into him, kissing you deep and slow and longingly. Each kiss with him was better than the last. Yes, it had started hot and desperate after a month of unbearable electricity between you, a rushed encounter at a hotel after a particularly adrenaline-filled away game. 
Ever since, Roy had slowed things down. Not in the way you’d perhaps expected - he was still hot and heavy whenever the two of you got the chance, but he was taking his time with you. Teasing and learning. Nobody had ever treated you like this before, like you were something to be revered. Worshipped.
It was the same now, as he anchored himself with a hand on your back, pulling you further in, kissing you with genuine hunger.
“Roy? Can I come and get my stuff.”
Trent. It was always Trent. You liked the man so much, spent a lot of time with him, in fact, but if he interrupted you and Roy one more time, you had half a mind to hide his manuscript or something.
Roy did his special silent groan that he did whenever he couldn’t groan aloud, where he glared at the ceiling as he broke away from you and then clenched his fists in front of him. It was adorable, not that you would tell him that.
“All good,” you whisper, despite it definitely not being all good. It was entirely a joint decision not to tell the team about the two of you yet, but sometimes you wished you could announce it to the whole fucking world if it would get you some alone time.
You squeeze his hand and slip away to the adjoining door between his and Ted’s office. You hear Roy grunt for Ted to come in behind you, but you squeeze through into the other room before you hear any more of their inevitably one-sided conversation. Ted turns to you brightly as you enter.
“Decided you wanted to get personal sooner, Y/N?” he grins, and you can tell he isn’t really serious.
“Just forgot my keys,” you said sheepishly, retrieving them from the desk where you’d left them completely on purpose. It was always good to have a back-up plan and Roy wasn’t the only quick thinker between you, “See you tomorrow, Coach.”
“Can’t wait, coach!”
As you exit for real this time, glancing into Roy’s office as you pass, you take out your phone to shoot him a text. You’re saved under an unassuming name in his phone, so even if Trent sees it, he’ll be none the wiser.
We’re still on for tonight, right? The way I navigate a Big Tesco will blow your mind x
You press send with a smile to yourself, continuing on towards your office to pack up for the evening. Your phone buzzes before you even get there.
You blow my mind every fucking day. See you soon x
God, you could clutch your phone to your chest and squeal in the corridor, but instead, you speed up your walk to get home as quickly as possible. There was no harm in getting all dressed up to go to the supermarket when you were going with an insanely fit professional footballer, you reasoned.
---
Big Tesco. The place dreams are made of, or at least it was when you were younger and felt like you could get lost in the aisles and never return. Nowadays, it was likely nostalgia that kept you coming back, but it still felt like your first Big Tesco trip with Roy was a pretty big deal.
Mainly you needed snacks for movie night, but Roy was happy to indulge you and drive twenty minutes away for this if that’s what you wanted.
“If we’re doing Julia Roberts, we have to do Pretty Woman, obviously.”
“And Erin fucking Brockovich,” Roy agreed, “But if we do Sandra Bullock, we get the modern day masterpiece that is Miss Congeniality.”
“Oh, I still need to see that one!”
Roy stops, Pringles tube hovering above the trolley. He looks at you like he’s seeing you for the first time and he doesn’t like what he sees.
“Right, we’re doing Bullock then, if I have to fucking culture you as well as buy your snacks.”
“We’re splitting the snacks-”
“The fuck we are,” he cut in, already contradicting himself, “I was fucking joking, please can we not get into another snack debate. You bought them last time.”
“Fine. And I’m happy with Sandy, too, so you win twice, buddy,” you grin at him, not expecting him to grin back but ecstatic when he does. You have half a mind to press him up against the Doritos and finish what you’d started earlier, but you have plenty of time for that in appropriate places later.
You had all night, in fact, post-Sandra Bullock marathon. The thought brings a particular movie to mind.
“As long as we throw Two Weeks Notice in there too.”
“Hugh Grant? No.”
“Oh come on, he’s a national treasure,” you argue, sliding your arm through his as the two of you continue your journey through the aisles.
“He’s a fucking idiot, is what he is,” Roy bites back, as he picks up the chocolate he knows you love, “I’ll allow The Proposal.”
“You know what, that’s a better choice anyway. We have a deal if we can make a stop in the homeware section after this?” you say hopefully, excited when he sighs and nods. You kiss his shoulder as you continue walking, “We’re so fucking good at this compromising shit!”
You lean away from him enough to hold your hand up for a high five. He indulges you reluctantly with a light slap from his own.
“We are. It’s cause I’m so fucking nice.”
“To me,” you add, staring up at him as he slows the trolley to a stop beside the biscuits. He takes your face in his hands after a moment.
“To you, yeah,” he agrees, voice all soft like it had been earlier. You’re not going to kiss him senseless in a supermarket, the two of you had some shame and a lot of love for privacy, but it was nice to indulge in something like this, a sweet moment shared without fear of anyone seeing the two of you. You turn your head to kiss his palm, “You’ve sent me all fucking soft.”
“You love it.”
“Love you, more like,” he says, for the first fucking time, in a Big Tesco. You’d found out you were getting a party bus for your 10th birthday here too, so it was a location for big occasions. You kiss his palm; once, twice, three times.
“You have to say the I or it doesn’t mean anything,” you tease, but you’re beaming up at him as he strokes the skin underneath your eyes and you almost let them flutter shut.
“Who fucking told you that? Sounds like shit Jamie would say.”
“Jan Maas.”
“Fucking prick,” he says, then a moment later, “I love you, then, if you fucking insist.”
“I do insist,” you giggle, leaning forward until your face is in his chest so you can safely say: “I love you too.”
Its a little muffled, but thankfully he doesn’t ask you to repeat it again like you think he will. He just wraps his arms around your shoulders and keeps you close to him for a long while.
“Roy? Hey boyo!!”
You freeze in place, face still hidden. If anything, Roy’s arms tighten around you rather than letting go as he turns to see Colin waving at him, alongside Sam, Isaac, Jamie and the aforementioned Jan Maas. They all pile over towards him and you know its a matter of time before they realise its you. Jamie’s already bounding over as if he’s won the lottery.
“Roy’s got a girl! A real woman, like!” Jamie exclaims as he reaches them and you decide to get this over with sooner than later, lifting your head to stare at him wearily. He frowns, “Oh. Y/N, hiya.”
Of course he isn’t connecting any dots. He isn’t quite the connecting type, however much you love him to little pieces. Sam is staring at you a lot more knowingly, Isaac stuck with his mouth open. They’ve all caught on a little quicker than Jamie.
“The two of you together,” Jan muses, “I do not believe this is a pairing made to last.”
“Oi, Jan Maas,” Isaac pipes up, especially as Roy’s already stepped forward to threaten him, “Not cool.”
“I am just telling you the truth. You are both a little grumpy, you will not have the needed balance.”
“We’re balancing perfectly fucking well, thank you,” Roy says, and you can hear that he’s gritting his teeth, “As a team. Of coaches. Because that’s what we fucking are.”
Oh, he was going to play the ‘it wasn’t what it looked like’ card? You weren’t expecting it, but you’d happily back him up if he wanted you to.
“You are telling me that was a friend hug?” Sam asks, voice full of disbelief. You look up at Roy to see what he’ll say to that, but he’s already looking down at you with an untraceable look on his face. When he finally looks back at the boys, he takes your hand in his.
“No. It was a fucking boyfriend-girlfriend hug, alright? Any of you tell anyone before we do and I’ll feed you to a fucking monitor lizard.”
You’d watched a documentary about them last night that had likely led to that threat. Jamie’s snickering but tries to sober up when Roy immediately turns to him. He holds his hands up in surrender.
“I’m sorry mate, I am, I’ve jus’ never heard a grown man say ‘boyfriend-girlfriend’ before,” he says, back to giggling by the end of his sentence and Jan Maas is quick to dissolve into full blown laughter. You bring a hand up to your mouth to hide your own amusement, lest Roy feel betrayed by it.
“Right, fuck off and leave us alone then. We’re on a tight fucking movie night schedule and I won’t have you twats throwing us off.”
“Hey! That’s why we’re here! If we’re all doing movie night, why don’t you join us?” Sam asks, and you can see he’s teasing even if Roy can’t tell. Still, you take it as an opportunity to stake your claim as you wrap an arm around Roy’s bicep and cling to him.
“Look, you lot hog this man all day every day. I’m taking him home and we’ll see you tomorrow, alright?”
It was very Roy of you, just with the addition of a wink at the end that told the boys you were half-joking. Jamie seemed almost impressed, while Sam was trying not to laugh at you. That man never took you seriously, and you loved it.
“We’ll leave you to it then,” Isaac decided, dragging Jamie backwards a little by the collar when he opened his mouth to tease Roy one final time, “Enjoy your night, yeah? See you tomorrow.”
Roy grunted his goodbye, but you waved back at them when they waved, mostly at you. Jamie mouthed something at Roy but, luckily for you both, Roy couldn’t work it out.
“Pricks,” he mutters once they’re far away enough not to hear him and you let out a little snort.
“They were very nice about that, you know? I was expecting a lot worse,” you said, pleasantly surprised at the lack of proper teasing. You knew there was likely more to come once they’d had a while to process it, but still. There was a certain weight lifted knowing that someone had finally been told.
“Do people not say boyfriend-girlfriend anymore?” he asks abruptly, looking down at you from where you’re still clinging to him. You grin at up at him.
“We should bring it back. I love boyfriend-girlfriend. I think that’s how we should introduce ourselves to people from now on.”
He rolled his eyes at the sarcasm in your voice, but tugged you into a quick, public appropriate kiss nonetheless.
“Let’s get you some fucking hobnobs and then we can go and look at fancy glassware, yeah?,” he announces, shaking his head with such obvious fondness when you cheer and turn to the biscuits. He stays close, a hand hovering near your back, and you’re a little worried movie night might be forgotten when you get home given how handsy the two of you have been all day. You resume your shopping tucked into his side, and only bump into the boys twice more on your trip around the wonders of Big Tesco.
Later, when you’re eventually curled into Roy’s side during a movie night that started way later than intended, your phone buzzes a few too many times in a row to ignore. You glance at Roy quizzically as you grab it, seeing a bunch of texts coming in from Sam.
Couldn’t resist. Don’t let Roy hate me. I’ve deleted them on my phone now, so they’re just yours. Lunch tomorrow?
Roy grumbled a little beside you as he read over your shoulder, but really he should have gotten used to your occasional lunch plans with Sam by now, even if he liked having you all to himself for at least one hour during the day. You settle into him even more as you scroll through a bunch of photos Sam’s attached with wide eyes.
You staring up at Roy. Roy kissing you. The grins on both your faces when you part. Then one that has you reeling, where you’re facing the biscuits with your hands on your hips and Roy is looking at you. Enthralled. You’re not even fucking doing anything.
“That little shit,” Roy breathes, squeezing your thigh where his hand was already resting.
“I love them,” you say instead of responding, tilting your head back to look at Roy, “Our first proper photos together.”
“They look like a fucking pap took them,” he complains, but he's still studying them and you can tell he likes them really.
“Look how happy we look," you’re stuck on how he looks at you when you’re not even looking at him. When there’s nothing to be gained from it. You glance at the new vase sitting on your coffee table, with fresh flowers Roy had insisted on because 'if we're getting a fucking vase we have to fucking fill it'. Here he was, filling your life with so many little pieces of joy.
“Well we are fucking happy, aren’t we?”
There's a little bit of vulnerability in his question, like he needs confirmation. You lock your phone and toss it to the side, knowing you can reply to Sam in a bit. For now, you pause the movie and clamber to straddle Roy’s lap, seeing that look on his face again as he stares up at you. It only spurs you on.
“We’re very fucking happy, Roy.”
He grins, which is rare, but then he kisses you and that’s not rare at all.
(roy makes a mental note to thank sam for the pictures tomorrow, even if he tells him to do extra laps in the same sentence to maintain the balance)
740 notes · View notes
whatwouldsylwrite · 11 months
Text
At least I got you in my head (4)
(3)
Summary: Abby is straight. And then you move in with her.
Tags: modern au, fem!reader, straight!abby (she is doing some comphet bullshit), pining, idiot in love and it's abby, reader is gay and tired.
Notes: Happy pride month, guys! I feel like I committed a hate crime with this chapter, so I'm sorry. It's also longer than previous chapters by 2k. And um, the "hate crime" part (not literal hate crime, just some angst) is rushed because I really didn't enjoy writing it :/
Black haired girl is Yoon Jiwoo from My Name, and she is a badass, if you want to see some female violence go watch some edits of her.
Taglist: @abbyily @lillysbigwilly @gravygranules @blairfox04 @frogtits1 @ccinnamongrl @ninazenuk @urmomsgirlfriend1 @sunkissedbibi @couchgarbage @nil-eena (if you want me to tag/untag you for the whole series dm me please)
-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-
Caitlyn was again looking like a zombie, sipping her bitter coffee slowly. You were sitting in the coffee shop on the campus, and Caitlyn looked at you like a grumpy cat. Or a very pissed off cat. 
Caitlyn wasn't happy you distracted her (saved from exhaustion) from her studies (staring at her paper for an hour). But you didn't care as long as she sat with you and decompressed with her disgusting bitter 3-shots-of-espresso coffee. 
"You look like shit." You told Caitlyn and she glared at you. "You need to spend your weekend just sleeping for 30 hours. You can't do this to yourself."
"I'm fine." Caitlyn scoffed, but accepted the doughnut you slipped to her. "Thanks."
"I swear I will stay at your place for the weekend."
"I don't think you can be separated from Abby for so long, (y/n). Quite frankly, it makes me worried." 
Oh god, Cait had her detective face on, like she was solving a puzzle right now, and it made you nervous. 
"Why?"
"Well." Cait sipped her coffee. "You have the gay yearning in your eyes. Are you, perhaps, falling in love with her?"
"No." You cut sternly, surprising yourself. You didn't expect yourself to have such a strong reaction. "I'm not falling for a straight girl."
"Maybe falling was a strong word. You're crushing on her." The word crushing sounded so alien from Cait.
"It's manageable." You shrugged, not wanting to discuss your own weakness, but not wanting to lie to Caitlyn either. "I know I don't have a chance."
"This is quite upsetting." Caitlyn said and squeezed your hand. "I don't want you to get hurt."
"I won't, I promise. I'm not stupid." You winked and drank your coffee. "Do you want to come to her fight on Friday?"
"I have to finish that paper." Caitlyn groaned. She noticed how you narrowed your eyes on her. "I swear, I won't study during the weekend. But if I push myself I can finish it."
"I'll be at your door at 12pm on Saturday. We will go outside, have a walk in the park, go to the bookshop or whatever nerdy place you want to visit. We both can use some downtime."
Caitlyn sighed but didn't protest.
"I'll text you when I go to sleep. Count 8 hours and then show up."
You nodded, proud of Caitlyn compromising on this topic. She didn't like "wasting time" but if you said it was for your benefit too she usually agreed. You trapped her in taking care of herself by thinking she was taking care of you, and it worked well. 
"Ask Ellie to come with you to Abby's fight. I'm sure she is going to be there anyway."
"You're right." You smiled and took your phone out. You still had Ellie's number from months ago. "Have you talked to her?"
"Yes. We study together from time to time, and sometimes I invite her to play chess." 
"Good. I'm happy you found your nerdmate." You smiled at Caitlyn and she smiled back. "Or is there something else?"
"No, we're friends. Not the kind you are with Abby." Cait looked pointedly at you. "I may be speculating, but I have a feeling she is not as straight as she thinks she is."
"Well, what do you want me to do? 'Hey, Abby, I know you're so deep in the closet you met fucking Aslan but how about you change your entire worldview because I have a crush on you that I totally can get over?'" You scrunched your nose, irritated at nothing in particular. 
"Obviously not that." Caitlyn frowned like she usually did when she was stategising, as if she could find a way to get you and Abby together because she was just that smart. "Well, I think you should start dating again."
You shrugged and looked down at your phone. 
to: Ellie Williams
Hi, it's (y/n)
Are you going to Abby's fight on Friday?
from: Ellie Williams
Hi
Yeah
Wanna go together?
to: Ellie Williams
Yes
from: Ellie Williams
cool 
I'll meet you there
"I'm not going to use other people in order to get over Abby. I'm not fighting fire with fire." You said, continuing your conversation with Cait. 
"You could use a distraction." Caitlyn shrugged in return. 
"I'll just find someone to tutor." 
"And I'm a workaholic with bad habits?" Cait muttered under her breath and bit down on her second doughnut. 
Thursday nights were usually booked for the time to unwind for both of you: you'd come home late, tired and hungry after classes and lessons on campus, Abby would be already home, studying in the living room for her usual seminar on Friday, also tired. 
Abby heard the keys as you opened the door and in a few minutes you appeared in the living room.
"Hi." Abby's chest tightened at your small, quiet voice and she looked at you. 
"Hey." She said gently and panicked, not really understanding why. "You look like shit." Nice save, Anderson.
"I feel like shit." You shrugged and went to your room to take your change of clothes. 
Abby took a deep breath, trying to get her panic under control - what was that? What, she wasn't allowed to be gentle with her friends anymore? What the fuck her brain was playing at? That was concerning. For some reason she kept creating excuses why it was okay to touch you, and that wasn't even the weird, selfish part. The weird part was - why did she even need to create excuses? She was touchy with her friends, and you were touchy too, it wasn't any different from her friendship with Ellie.
But somehow it was, and Abby was confused. She tried to act chill and normal around you, sometimes getting a little more sarcastic than usual. It didn't seem to bother you, but Abby got embarrassed every time she'd suddenly treat you a little rougher because she'd get this weird panic. Honestly, it was pissing her off - you were nice to her, gentle even, and she was acting like a school boy, tugging on your pigtails. 
Just like now. You didn't look like shit, you looked lovely despite being tired, and Abby had a fucking knee jerk reaction to god knows what. 
You came back from the shower, smelling like you, and you sat next to Abby, putting your head on her shoulder. Abby stopped typing, her heart doing a micro somersault: you were so close so suddenly it scared her. Or whatever she kept telling herself, really. 
"I wanna die."
"You're just hungry." Abby murmured and pretended to be concentrating on her studies. "There's leftovers from yesterday or I can order something for you."
You made a tired sound and Abby chuckled. 
"What do you want? Thai? Indian?" 
"Nah, don't waste money, I'll cook something."
"I'm not 'wasting money'. You're tired as fuck." I want to take care of you, she wanted to say, but she was being weird again, so she didn't. "Just pick."
"Let's do rock paper scissors."
Abby won and ordered your usual while you went through the endless list of tv shows for both of you to watch. Now, when you weren't that close, Abby got back to studying - her weird panic could wait until she was done. In Abby's mind her gpa was way harder to fix than whatever emotional things she had going on. 
"Cait really likes Ellie." You said offhandedly, and Abby perked up. "In a friendly way."
"Really?" 
Abby was surprised for two reasons: Ellie had a temper and was only likeable when she was interested in someone sexually, and Cait was so out of her league it was ridiculous. 
"Yeah. They play chess and study together. Cait doesn't study with people, so I guess Ellie is special in that way."
"Wow." Abby chuckled. "I mean, Ellie is extremely smart. Is it your type?" Abby teased, continuing the bit about you crushing on Ellie. However something in her grew anxious at the thought of learning what your type was.
"It's more about her arms, you know." You laughed, looking a little embarrassed at the admission. 
Something felt hot in Abby’s chest as she looked down at her own arms. She looked back at you and flexed her bicep to see your reaction, and it was worth it: you looked dazed for a second before quickly looking away, flustered. Abby laughed at you and you hit her on her arm, embarrassed. 
“Fuck you.” You laughed too, and Abby felt too good in this moment, just laughing and teasing you; she never wanted it to end. "What is your type?"
Abby blinked. Her type? She never gave it a thought before: relationships weren’t something she was too invested in, it never seemed to be worth the effort. She never experienced this head over heels love everyone was talking about, so she never cared to run after boys.
"I don't really have a type." Abby said, thinking back to her not-so-long list of exes. "You know, with men if he is not an asshole it's already a win."
You laughed and Abby smiled, her confusion about not having a type going away.
"Great, we're definitely going to have a perfect love life with these standards." You chuckled and laid back on the sofa, letting Abby get back to her study. 
Abby's favourite part of Thursdays was happening around 10pm, when you'd finish washing the dishes - today it was putting everything in the bin - and Abby'd get her excessive amount of pillows and blankets so you two could cuddle and watch the next episode of the ridiculous show you both were too invested in. 
"Come on, come here." Abby said a little impatiently while you were putting some pillows away. 
"I'm not the one who made a fucking fort out of pillows." You grumped but soon enough you put your head on Abby's shoulder, your hands tucked in front of your chest. Abby always expected you to hug her around her middle, but you never did, and she wasn't sure how she felt about it. 
Sometimes, very rarely, when you'd get too tired, you'd fall asleep on Abby's chest, and Abby never had the heart to wake you up. You already showered, everything was clean and you didn't have any tasks to do, so why would she wake you up? Just so you could walk to your bedroom, your sleep interrupted? No. 
Abby looked down where your head was, curious if you were asleep after the episode ended, but you looked up just as she lowered her head, and fuck you were too close. So close Abby's heart fucking malfunctioned and started beating five times faster. She could feel your breath on her face and something was demolishing under her ribcage - it happened in a matter of seconds and you moved away, creating the distance between you, but Abby was so scared in that moment she didn't breathe. 
"Do you need to study?" You asked as you moved away and sat next to her. Abby tried not to feel disappointed at losing your warmth. 
"I'm done, actually. I feel kinda confident about tomorrow, you know?"
Abby stood up and started tidying up the living room, putting everything in its place.
"You're smart, Abby. You'd nail that seminar, I promise." 
"Thanks, (y/n). You're coming tomorrow to my fight, right?"
"Yeah. I even cleared my schedule for it." You said, pleased with yourself and Abby smiled. "But I'll kill you if you get hurt, you hear me? No missing punches."
Abby laughed and came closer to you, refusing to feel weird about being affectionate with you. It was fine. 
"I will be careful, I promise." Abby murmured as she leaned down and kissed your forehead. "Don't want to get in trouble with a woman who feeds me."
"Damn right." You said sternly. "Good night, Abby."
"Night, (y/n)."
You only had a vague idea about MMA fights: you were never really interested in sports, let alone violent sports, but well, Abby invited you so you decided to give it a shot. You weren't sure you'd like it (seeing Abby being punched? No thank you), but Abby wouldn't have invited you if it wasn't important to her, right?
Or were you fantasising again? Making a big deal out of nothing? Fuck, it was getting harder and harder to keep yourself in check with these things. Abby was sweet, and you were weak for sweet girls. 
You tried not to get delusional when your suspicion got too strong - was it intuition or wishful thinking? Were you seeing things that weren't there or were you ignoring what was? You didn't know, and yeah, it was manageable, but also - it drove you crazy. You couldn’t live like this, questioning Abby’s every move and every word.
Maybe you should have talked to her about the possibility of her not being straight, but her best friend was a lesbian, surely Abby had a moment to reflect on her own sexuality like some straight girls did when they found out their friend was gay. Abby was smart, she’d have figured it out already. 
God you thought you weren’t that stupid, but you were failing not to fall for Abby for a month and a half already. Hubris is a bitch, huh.
Ellie met you outside the place where the fight would take place fifteen minutes before the start. She looked good, as attractive as always - yes, (y/n), you needed to look at women you actually had a chance with, good job, keep it up - and the look she gave you suggested she thought the same about you. She even took your hand in hers as she led you to your seats, and you didn’t protest - somehow Ellie being touchy felt natural, and her cool hand felt nice on your skin. You sat together and you looked around.
“There’s supposed to be medics around, right?” 
“Yeah, but Abby doesn’t get super injured, she’ll be fine.”
“Have you seen her face? I almost went into cardiac arrest when I saw her.” 
“That’s her usual day at practice.” Ellie shrugged, her thigh warm against yours as she moved closer to hear you better. “Don’t worry, she can take a lot more than that. She is tough and intimidating, and she actually knows how to duck. But if you tell her I said it - your ass is grass.”
You laughed at Ellie's words and she smiled back. She explained to you how the fight was going to happen, and you felt a little hopeful - how much damage can happen in a five minute round? Not a lot, right? Right?
There were other fights too, and you had time to adjust to the overall violence of it all. You didn't know the girls who were fighting, but even then when a stranger got hit you couldn't help but flinch. Ellie noticed how stressed you were getting, so she took your hand in hers to ground you. The touch was definitely easy between the two of you, and it was comforting, so you squeezed her hand back. 
"I don't know if I'd survive this." You laughed and Ellie squeezed your hand back. 
"Look, they're all fine. No blood, no bruises." 
"The standards are too low, Ellie. You're in sports too, right?"
"If you call skateboarding a sport then yeah. I'm a hell of an athlete." Ellie snorted. 
"You should've taken Abby with you." 
"Babe, she has been in martial arts since she was four. I'm pretty sure she'd have kicked my ass if I asked her to leave MMA."
You laughed at this, a little bit confused: Ellie was behaving like Ellie you knew, not Ellie that was studying with Cait three times a week. The difference was intriguing. 
Finally Abby's name was announced and you got tense, bracing yourself. But when she walked to the cage, you forgot how to breathe for a totally different reason: she was so intimidating and confident, her defined shoulders rolled back in a threat, and you just couldn't help yourself. She was hot. She was so hot you pressed your thighs together as your eyes roamed over her trained body that screamed power and dominance, her top and shorts letting you see her abs and thighs that could crush your head if Abby wanted to. Fuck. 
Mark you as scared and horny. 
Her opponent was similar to her in size, and you watched with wide eyes as they approached each other after the bell rang. Abby was light on her feet, not too fast as previous fighters, but she timed her punches well, immediately cornering her opponent. But the girl was quick to recover as she landed some punches on Abby's side with her legs and you gasped, terrified.
"Abby's okay." Ellie said to you and you finally exhaled, not looking away from the cage. 
It was the most stressful eighteen minutes of your life, and the relief you felt when Abby was getting the upper hand and she was punching instead of getting punched, was immeasurable. Abby didn't really let her opponent corner her, her face had that calculated expression as if she knew every way this fight could go. That was comforting, but not as comforting as hearing the last bell and seeing Abby's black glove raised in the air to show her win. 
"That was so intense." You admitted as you relaxed in your seat and Ellie laughed, her hands stroking your thigh. 
"Believe me, it wasn't. You need to watch Abby's previous fights, there's some intense shit."
"No thank you." You said. "Do we wait for her or? What the fuck we are supposed to do, actually?"
"She told me to meet her at the party, so we can head out. Are you going to the party?"
"I dunno." You admitted sheepishly. "I have plans tomorrow."
"Come on, it will be fun. You can leave early and still get your beauty sleep. I can even set an alarm for you, Cinderella."
"Okay-okay. I'll leave at midnight." 
Abby arrived at the party a little later than she planned, but at least everyone was already having fun and not yet wasted. She quickly grabbed a beer and went through people to find Ellie and then find you - in Abby's head you were supposed to be with her. Ellie, however, was talking to her other friends - that was how Abby referred to anyone Ellie befriended in university - she was laughing and you were nowhere in sight. 
Ellie noticed her and went for a hug, patting her back.
"(Y/n) said your fight was 'so intense'." Ellie laughed and Abby laughed too, because they both knew Abby had way worse fights. "Congrats on not having your ribs broken."
"You're so sweet." Abby said mockingly. "What did I do to have such a supportive, caring best friend?"
"Nothing you should be proud of." 
"Have you seen (y/n)? I kinda thought she'd be with you."
"Yeah, she was talking to some girl." Oh. "Close to the bar." 
Something not really pleasant filled Abby's chest after Ellie's words, something like disappointment. She expected to see you there, but you were somewhere else, talking to someone else. 
Abby took a sip of her beer and went in the direction Ellie told her to find you. And yes, there you were, talking to a black haired girl Abby didn't know. It looked like the conversation was friendly, and the other girl didn't stand too close to you, which brought Abby relief - what the fuck was wrong with her? Why was she so uncomfortable with seeing you with someone else? What the fuck?
She walked through people to get closer to you, and when you turned your head you saw her and smiled. Abby smiled back and watched you touch the other girl's forearm, saying your goodbyes. The girl smiled at you and motioned at her phone as you nodded before she started to walk away. When Abby came to you, the girl wasn't there anymore and your smile was only directed at Abby, and it calmed her down, the normalcy of your life getting back. 
"Congratulations!" You hugged Abby tightly and she hugged back, stroking your back on instinct. 
"Did you like it?" Abby already knew the answer, but she really wanted to tease you. 
"Liked seeing people getting punched? No."
"But what about all those arms, hm?" 
"I swear to god, Abby." You elbowed her and Abby laughed. 
"Was it your friend?" Abby asked cautiously, trying to pass her curiosity as something casual. 
"Hm?"
"The girl you were talking to. I didn't want to interrupt, sorry." Was she really sorry? Maybe. 
"Oh, don't worry." You said, not answering Abby's question, and it made her feel not good. "Are you feeling okay though?"
"You're such a mother hen." Abby rolled her eyes. "My side is bruised, and she got my lip, but otherwise I'm fine."
"Great."
Abby spent the next hour glued to your side, talking to you: it was fun to be with you outside your shared apartment. Yeah, you spent time together on weekends, but being around a lot of people Abby knew and showing who she was friends with (yup, people knew you because you were a tutor on campus and a lot of them swore they got their credits thanks to you) was a cool feeling. Abby felt cool because she was friends with you. 
"I have plans tomorrow with Caitlyn." You said as you checked the time on your phone. "I'll head out."
"Already?"
"Yeah. But you have fun, okay? Call me if you need me." 
"Need you?" Abby raised her eyebrow.
"What if you get so drunk you'd need assistance?" You teased and hugged Abby. "Have fun! See you at home."
"Okay, mom." Abby laughed and watched you leave, just a bit sad. 
She found Ellie and hung out with her friends until she needed a refill of her beer. And while she was waiting for her beer, someone scooted closer to her and coughed, catching her attention. 
Abby turned her head to see a guy her age with a stubble. He smiled at her and Abby smiled back, a little confused.
"I was at your fight today." He said as he looked her over, and Abby got thrills from his attention. "You know how to throw a punch."
"Thanks." Abby said, pleased. Guys rarely liked the fact she could fuck them up, and hearing a guy saying she was good was ego boosting. 
"I'm Owen." He stretched his hand for a handshake, and Abby took it.
"Abby." 
The vibration of notifications woke you up and you expected to see Caitlyn’s message saying she finally went to sleep. You checked the time - 3am - and looked at your notifications. Indeed, Caitlyn messaged you half an hour ago with “if i see you earlier than 12pm ill kill you”, but there were other notifications. 
from: Abby
Hi im with a boy
sorry
promise we won’t be loud 
Your heart sank, but you didn’t even have time to process your emotions as you heard the front door open and people talking in hushed voices. Of fucking course you woke up just in time to hear Abby come home with a guy. They quickly made their way to Abby’s bedroom, trying to be quiet, but you got hyper aware of every noise. Fuck.
It hurt, and it hurt even more because you were so fucking stupid. You knew from the beginning Abby would never be interested in you because you were a girl, but the safety of your apartment where the two of you existed in your small little bubble made you delusional. 
Abby was just affectionate and touchy, and you were stupid and read it the way you wanted to read it, getting your hopes up. Stupidstupidstupid
You heard the bed creak on the other side of the wall and your throat tightened. Abby liked guys and she was having sex with a guy right now while you felt your heart crush, because you overestimated yourself and thought you could easily manage your feelings. 
The problem was that you forgot that feelings were not manageable and not something you could compromise with. You couldn’t just decide not to feel something and then actually stop feeling it. This mindset trapped you into repression and repression could only go so far, and now the fucking dam was broken. 
You were in love with Abby, and you had no chance and Caitlyn was right: you were hurting yourself. 
You didn’t cry, keeping your composure and snickering at the lack of the noise from the other side: either Abby was very quiet in bed or the sex wasn’t good. That thought made you feel better, not for any noble reason: you were hurt and you wanted Abby to not feel good too, and you didn’t really care at that moment that it wasn’t her fault.
Somehow you fell asleep, not bothered by any noise - that made you smile cruelly again - and you tried not to think about this situation and your own feelings.
Caitlyn was right, you needed a distraction. 
Abby woke up with a pleasant ache in her body and her head hurting just a little. Her bed was empty and she was relieved - she didn’t like to wake up next to someone she barely knew. 
Well, knew enough to have sex with him, but not enough to wake up next to him. Abby genuinely liked Owen - he was easy going and polite, and honestly? Maybe you were right when you said you didn’t really need to know someone to hook up with them. And hey, Abby was so touch-starved she was too touchy with you, so it seemed like a great idea yesterday. It felt like it worked - she was probably too lonely the whole time and now she was relaxed and there was no pull to go and cuddle you. It made her feel guilty - if she stopped wanting to be close to you after she hooked up then it meant she was just selfish this whole time, substituting what she actually needed with whatever she could get from you.
Yeah, she didn’t feel like a good person right now. 
Abby stood up from her bed and assessed the damage: two bruises on her inner thighs and a hickey on her collarbone, not that bad. She didn’t like when guys left marks on her - it mostly caused problems with covering up, but Owen was kinda good with not leaving marks everywhere. 
Abby put her clothes on and made her way to the bathroom when she felt her chest tighten with anxiety: not only Owen was still here, but he was talking to you. Shit. 
Abby felt bad for bringing someone home without actually discussing it with you beforehand and now you were making small talk at 11am with a guy who was supposed to leave a long time ago. 
Owen noticed Abby and smiled at her, and she smiled back. 
“Morning.” He looked down at her neck and Abby blushed a little. 
“Morning.” Abby responded and waited for Owen to come closer to her.
He put his hands on her waist and kissed her on the cheek and Abby melted a little.
“Sorry, I have to go already, but text me anytime.” Owen murmured before leaving a small peck on her lips and Abby nodded. 
Owen left and Abby went to the kitchen where you were drinking tea and looking ready for the day while Abby felt like a mess. The guilt overpowered her and she sat on the chair opposite of you.
“Sorry for yesterday, I know we haven’t discussed bringing people over.” Abby said, but you smiled at her.
“Hey, we are young and horny, can’t blame you for getting your stress relief.” You chuckled kindly, and Abby felt relieved. “He didn't seem like a total asshole.”
Abby laughed, knowing it was a pick at her standards.
“Well, just as you said, don’t really have to know him to hook up with him.”
“See, you’re learning.” You nodded your head approvingly and Abby laughed again. “Actually, while we’re still on the topic, can I bring girls over?”
“I mean, yeah, I think as long as we don’t disturb each other, everything is a fair game.” Who was Abby to deny your own needs when she literally brought a guy over?
“Oh, okay. Thanks.” You didn't look too happy right now, and it confused Abby to a degree, but she didn't ask.
What Abby didn’t know in that moment, that by giving you permission to bring girls over, she started the end of it all.
--------
To: Yoon Jiwoo
Hi! 
Would you like to grab a coffee with me?
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moniescove · 5 months
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Heartless
"She won't know" the mysterious woman straddled on Mark's lap whispered into his ear before peppering kisses along his jaw. Letting out a sigh of satisfaction he only let her continue. He knew you wouldn't be home for the next week while you were finishing up your semester over seas. But what he didn't know was you were planning a suprise visit.
Lost in his own bliss too preoccupied with how the womans lips felt on his neck Mark failed to notice anything around him including your jingling keys opening the door. You entered silently hoping to suprise your boyfriend who was no where to be seen.
He's probably asleep you thought to yourself, knowing just how tiring his job is you wouldn't be suprised. With a smile on your face, excitement bubbling in your chest you could only think about what his reaction would be after not seeing each other in person for so long.
Making your way through the dimly lit apartment you stopped at your bedroom door, a sliver of light shining through the slightly ajar door catching your attention. Bringing your eyes closer to the crack your heart stops. Seeing the love of your life being straddled and touched by an unknown woman with no intent of stopping you felt sick as a lump started forming in your throat.
You push the door open making the image even clearer. The woman roaming her manicured hands all around Mark's body as her lips only continue to explore more of his neck that he has given full access to. He doesn't even seem to notice you with his tightly lidded eyes lost in his own desires.
"Mark."
Sprung out of his daze Mark quickly opens his eyes and sees you standing in the door way. He can see all the emotions washing over you in waves, pain, disgust, betrayal, heartbreak. And all he can feel is burdened. Burdened by your interuption as the woman hurriedly separates herself from him and rushes out of the room.
Left in silence you and Mark stare at each other, gaze unfaltering. You don't know what to say, so much is running through your mind you just can't stop and think of any word that could properly explain how you feel. All Mark does is sigh as the tears continue to fall down your face.
"Why." is all you can choke out.
"you've been gone for 4 months now __, what was I supposed to do when my girlfriend was miles away." he sighed out facing away from you.
"You were supposed to wait for me Mark." you cry out. "Wait for me just like how I always waited for you everytime your schedule took up all of our time! All those days weeks and months I would go without seeing you and I never once thought of betraying you like this!" you yell out as the hot tears only continued to cascade down your face with no sign of stopping.
Finally standing up Mark faces you with no remorse on his face, something more like irritation, impatiently waiting for you to finish.
Bringing his hands up to his temples Mark sighs "Listen __, that was then this is now. I never asked you to wait for me and frankly, I'm honestly tired of you 'waiting' for me." he finished crossing his arms and staring right into you.
You could only feel your heart cracking and breaking into a million pieces at the nonchalant attitude your boyfriend had, how so carelessly he took your heart and shattered it like it was nothing.
"I waited for you because I loved you." you whispered out "I spent all this time loving you Mark, I was willing to give up every part of me for you."
Searching Mark's face for any sign of remorse or loss or just anything that you could hold onto that showed he still cared but there was nothing. It was like you didn't even recognize him, like this was an imposter of the man you loved, merely a shell, and honestly you really wished it was.
Not able to stand being in that room for any longer you turn around and leave while silently hoping he would stop you but he didn't. That day you left and never went back. The image of your once true love completely shattered.
Sitting on the edge of his bed Mark let out a frusterated breath as he grasps his head in his hands, running his fingers through his hair.
"You okay Markie?" The woman asks, crawling behind him to dot kisses on his bare shoulder.
"I think it's time for you to go." he says peeking slightly over his shoulder. "The door is on your left." standing up to reach for the woman's scattered clothing on the floor, Mark hands it to her before making his way to the bathroom connected to his bedroom. Left feeling embarrassed, without another word the woman quickly dresses herself and makes her exit.
Finally letting out a relieved sigh Mark leans his hands atop the vanity and stares at himself through the mirror. Taking note of the fresh purple and red marks left littered on his body replacing the ones that have already faded.
Looking at himself now, not even Mark could recognize who he saw in the mirror. Bringing home a new mystery woman nearly every night chasing a high that he can't reach. Days slowly melting into each other with no meaning, he felt lost and the only way he could mend it was through temporary fixes.
Feeling exhausted he hangs his head low, gaze falling to the ground, eyes roaming until something catches his attention. Peeking through from underneath the counter there was a light reflecting. Curiosity getting the best of him he reaches for the object, chest clenching realizing what it was. A small picture frame that held a photo of you and him on one of your first dates. The image of you clinging onto a smiling Mark holding a teddy bear, placing a kiss on his cheek left him feeling empty. The memory still lying fresh in his mind as if it happened yesterday, the way the crisp air felt on his skin, how your hand felt so prefect within his own, your big smile that could stop the whole world when Mark won you that teddy bear. He was so happy, you both were.
He missed the laugh that would melt all his worries away, the scent that took him to a far away place everytime it reached his nose, the touch that would send a million sparks running through his body. he missed you. Missed the way you loved him so unconditionally and unapologetically, and more importantly he missed loving you. He missed having a reason to be the best version of himself, to have a smile on his face in even the darkest moments because in the end he knew he would have you by his side. He missed it all.
And before he knew it, hot tears started falling with no intent of stopping. His vision becoming more and more blurred with every memory and emotion that flashed through his mind before all he could think about was you and it pained him to an unthinkable amount as he realized the last memory he had of you was the image of you crying in pain all because of him. Because of his own selfishness his last memory of you was seeing just how broken he left you and there's nothing in this world he wanted more than to turn back time and change everything. He wished he wasn't so stupid and waited for you just like you waited for him.
All Mark could do was sob as he hugged the picture to his chest wishing it was you. He regretted everything.
The vivid image of you looking into his eyes, begging for him to say something, begging him to not throw you aside and all he did was break you down and let you go.
How could I be so heartless?
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A/N: "need a mark cheating, leaving his s/o, then regretting it angst ☺️☺️🫶🏼 i am normal" - anon
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wonwoonlight · 1 year
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when you're both too prideful and you're literally sick.
warning: OC is sick (obviously 😭), that's it? Very short word vomits to help me get back into writing🥲
Jeonghan hates this.
Hates how prideful he is and the predicament he's brought himself into.
Hates how you're not sitting next to him and how you're chuckling at something his members are talking about.
Still, he refuses to break and avoids looking directly into your way even though all he wants is to just pull you into his lap, buries his head in your shoulder, and reconcile.
Fuck. He doesn't even know what the fight was about except that it's gotten too much out of control.
And if he doesn't remember what it's about exactly, then it must not be that important.
So he's been looking at Mingyu who's sitting next to you instead, trying to see you without actually seeing you.
Chan is on your other side, and he knows he must've taken the avoiding thing a little too far if you willingly choose to sit by the one member who, quite frankly, you're still most awkward with out of everyone when the seat next to him was empty earlier.
"You okay?" Shua whispers quietly, obviously noticing the tension between his best friend and said best friend's girlfriend.
Jeonghan shrugs. He doesn't even want to talk about it.
On the other side, Chan asks you the same thing but not for the same reason; you've been a little too quiet, and you seem even more tired than you did when you stepped into the waiting room thirty minutes ago.
You hum though, smiling at him as you fight the pounding in your head. You had considered not dropping by today's rehearsal, what--with the fight with your boyfriend and the fact that you're sick, but you've promised him and the members you'd come and you're not going to not show up just because you're fighting.
Jeonghan frowns at your hushed whispers with the maknae; what could you even possibly be talking about?
Huffing in annoyance, Jeonghan quietly mutters he's going to the restroom before leaving the room. God, he needs to get it together. He's an adult, for fuck's sake, what's stopping him from taking your hand and apologize?
He exhales and dries his hands, frowning at the machine's noise like it personally offends him. Taking another deep breath, he promises to himself he'd ask you to talk after the rehearsal.
Too deep in his thought, he didn't even notice the corridor is weirdly quiet without the usual rowdy laughters going out of the waiting room. He was just about to open the door when it opens itself, revealing a very panicked Chan and Jeonghan finally feels the collective distress within the room, heart dropping when he spots you barely even conscious on Mingyu's lap, Seungcheol and Wonwoo hovering so they can move you to the now vacant sofa.
He rushes pass everyone to kneel right beside you, his head barely registers his members' explanation as he brushes the hair off your face.
"Han?" You whisper, eyes blurry and your head feels like a dead weight.
"Yes. Yes, I'm here, love." He tries to sound as calm as possible, clenching his jaw when he realizes how you barely have the strength to even hold his hand. "What happened, hm?"
It takes a lot of effort to even shake your head, and it almost feels like you're going in and out of your consciousness.
"Why did you come if you know you're sick?" He whispers with a frown, getting nothing but an apologize from you.
"Promised to come." You managed to murmur, though you wince every few words. "Was nothing but a headache."
Jeonghan holds the urge to call you stupid, instead drops his head to your shoulder and squeezes your hand in his. He basks in your comforting scent, his worry easing a bit even though it’s still there.
He can assume what actually happened; you probably downplayed whatever’s happening with your body and showed up because you didn't want to look like you're sulking because of the fight last night.
This pride game you two are playing is going to be the death of you both one of these days.
"Wait for the doctor, okay?" He whispers, away from prying ears and eyes as he drops a soft kiss on your skin.
"Han?"
"Hm?"
"I'm so--"
"None of that." He cuts, sitting up to see your eyes barely even open. "We'll talk later, okay?"
"Okay."
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youphoriaot7 · 7 months
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The chaos of newcomers is never something Fit exactly...anticipates. In fact, he doesn't really like it all that much—not because he's anti-social, but because it just means yet another innocent being trapped on this island of hell with no way out, and frankly, he isn't quite sure they should be celebrating that.
That being said, he's not just going to let some newbie die because they couldn't find their way out of a stone tower.
Which is how he finds himself leaning against the doorframe in the loud room, watching people buzzing back and forth with excitement. He rolls his eyes, a small smile on his face at their chaos even as he steps back. Bad, Niki, and Cellbit are attempting to brute force the locked door—but that'll take at least ten minutes. He has time to burn.
His eyes scan across the room, unconsciously seeking out a familiar figure. He finds it right where he expected it: curled up on a couch, away from the crowds.
...there's an open seat nearby...so why not?
He sinks onto the seat next to Pac. The other man's drooping eyelids snap open as his weight is shifted, and Fit throws him a sheepish grin. "Sorry. Didn't mean to disturb you."
But Pac just smiles and shakes his head, sitting upright. "You didn't." It seems as though he wants to say something else, but whatever it is, he swallows the words. Instead, he simply stares down at his hands, fiddling with the cuffs of his hoodie, tugging his hands in and out of the sleeves.
Fit breaks the silence. "...how you doin'?" It's an innocent enough question, if they didn't both know what the scientist had been through. Sure enough, Pac sneaks a glance up at him, giving him a half-hearted shrug in reply.
"...I'm, um...well. I'm really tired," he murmurs, offering up a weak smile. Fit nods in understanding. The past week and a half had been exhausting enough for him, what with Ramon's disappearance and the impending stress of his mission—he can only imagine what Pac's been going through in the past day, much less the past week.
He'll admit it—he's worried about the younger man. Isn't everyone? It's no different than Bad or Phil's worry for Forever, or Cellbit's concern for his friends. Pac is just coming down off of a serious drug. Being tired is normal, right? Fit still isn't sure how he managed to find an antidote, either, or why it was necessary to take the drug in order to find one.
He tries not to worry about it—Pac would tell him if something was seriously wrong. Or not—it was his business, not Fit's. Just like his scientific process. Yeah. It was up to Pac to decide whether or not he wanted to share that information! Never mind the fact that Fit's thoughts were running a mile a minute with theories he did not want to even consider.
Besides, he knew a thing or two about keeping secrets himself. There were some things you simply couldn't tell people, for a variety of reasons: either it put them at risk, or put you at risk, or—
Oh.
He tries not to stiffen at the sudden weight on his shoulder, instead glancing to the side, where Pac's forehead now rests against his plate of armor. The scientist's eyes are closed, lashes sweeping the sunken bags under his eyes. The arms of his hoodie are curled carefully around Fit's prosthetic, gently holding him in place.
...oh.
He takes a careful breath, afraid to move too much for fear of waking the other man. After a few moments of hesitation, he decides to take the plunge: he adjusts his shoulder back a bit, moving the armor out of the way so that Pac's head falls to his true shoulder. Silently, his other hand finds purchase in the folds of Pac's hoodie, resting gently against his arm.
...the door is going to take a minute. They have time to rest.
It seems all too soon that there are cries of triumph from the other room. Pac's head jerks up off his shoulder at the excitement, blinking blearily in the dim light of the tower. Fit freezes, unsure of what to do. Should he play dumb? Act like nothing had happened? Let Pac take the lead?
The other man glances down, realization dawning on his face. Slowly, he untangles one of his arms, sitting up against the sofa back. (Fit misses his warmth already.) "...I guess I must've dozed off." Pac laughs softly, scratching the back of his neck as he looks away.
Even while avoiding Pac's gaze, Fit can see the deep crimson blushing up the younger man's neck. He shrugs. "Well, that's good. You probably needed the rest."
He tries to play it off. Tries to ignore the way his heart is still hammering in his chest. It couldn't have been more than ten minutes, why the hell is he acting like some schoolboy?
To his credit, Pac doesn't seem to be doing much better. "Y-yeah," he stammers out, grinning. "Probably." The dark rings under his eyes only compound that fact—has he been sleeping at all?
They sit for a moment, just staring at each other—until Foolish leans over the back of the couch opposite them, starting up some uproarious discussion about glue and vault mechanics and things beyond Fit's comprehension, and Pac is distracted once more.
But Fit can't help but notice that his arm still lays across the sleeve of Pac's hoodie, the other man's fingers still curled around his prosthetic.
He doesn't say a word.
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