#and he figured it out IMMEDIATELY and was always letting himself out

[thedensworld]

Talk the Stalker | C.Sc

Pairing: celebritySeungcheol! x celebrityReader!

Genre: fluff

Summary: Seungcheol is obsessed with you, he loves you and he would do anything to protect you.

Note: i'm obsessed, addicted, and drowned in his pretty smile! Happiness suit him sfm!

Seungcheol's hand was warm as it held yours tightly while the two of you entered the restaurant. He had already noticed two or three cameras tailing him outside, snapping pictures of the two of you together. He paid them no mind—your relationship was public anyway, and he was too used to the attention to care. Right now, all that mattered to him was making sure you were okay.

This restaurant was your favorite, a haven you always turned to when your appetite disappeared—which had happened again today. He had picked you up from the shooting set after a long day. You had texted him earlier, letting him know you’d be working from afternoon until late evening. Coincidentally, his own schedule had wrapped up at the same time, so he decided to spend the night with you.

"Can we grab something first? I think I’m gonna pass out," you muttered the moment you slid into his car.

Seungcheol sighed deeply, already anticipating this. You hadn’t eaten, had you? His mind pieced together the puzzle: you probably woke up barely two hours before your schedule, rushed to get ready, spent an hour commuting, and then worked the entire day without a single meal. The thought of it frustrated him—he had been through similar habits in the past, too busy to eat. But seeing you, the love of his life, neglecting yourself like this made his chest ache. Without a word, he drove the two of you straight to your go-to spot.

While you disappeared to the restroom, Seungcheol took the liberty of ordering your usual meal. When you returned, he waved you over, pulling the chair beside him. As you sat down, his hand instinctively reached for your back, rubbing soothing circles to ease the tension he imagined must be building there.

"How’s your back? Still hurt?" he asked gently, his voice tinged with concern.

You had injured yourself three months ago during a stunt for an action film—a brutal fall onto your back that had left you with a dislocated shoulder and lingering pain. While everything had seemed fine recently, yesterday’s severe backache brought the worries flooding back for both of you.

"Stop making me worry, could you?" Seungcheol sighed when you gave him a soft chuckle, clearly trying to downplay the issue. "Sometimes I wonder how your fragile body even handles all those stunts," he added, shaking his head.

“Fragile?” you scoffed, lightly smacking his arm. “I work out, thank you very much.”

He lifted your arm with a smirk, inspecting it playfully. “This slender little arm trying to punch a stuntman? I’m not worried about them; I’m worried about you.”

“Shut up,” you muttered with a grin, making Seungcheol laugh.

He reached out, brushing a strand of hair from your face and tucking it behind your ear. His tone softened as he said, “That’s why you need to stop getting hurt, okay? I know how much you love your job, but if you want to do it for a long time, you have to take care of yourself.”

You blinked, momentarily caught off guard by his words. It was something you always told him whenever he pushed himself too hard. “Stealing my lines now?” you teased, and he chuckled warmly.

After dinner, you suggested taking a walk. Seungcheol hesitated, asking if you were too tired, but you insisted. He figured you must’ve missed him more than you were letting on, and the thought filled him with a fluttery warmth he couldn’t quite explain.

As the two of you strolled down the quiet street, the chill of the night air began to creep in. Seungcheol noticed you shivering and immediately shrugged off his jacket, wrapping it snugly around your shoulders.

“Such a gentleman,” you teased with a playful smile, and he let out a small laugh, shaking his head.

“You know I’d do anything for you, right?” Seungcheol said shyly, his voice barely above a whisper.

You looked up at him, your lips curling into a smile as you clung to his arm. “Anything?” you challenged with a mischievous glint in your eyes. “Would you kill someone for me?”

Seungcheol’s brows furrowed, though his lips twitched with amusement. “Not to that scale. Know your place!” he shot back, earning a soft laugh from you.

"Are you happy with me?" Seungcheol’s voice broke the comfortable silence as he reached for your hand, holding it firmly before swinging it lightly, a playful gesture to get your attention. His thumb brushed over your knuckles, and you couldn’t help but smile at the warmth radiating from him.

You nodded eagerly, the sincerity in your expression clear. "I think you’re one of the very few people who can make me this happy," you admitted, your words filled with genuine affection.

His brows furrowed almost immediately, and he stopped walking, a playful pout forming on his lips. "I’m not the only one?" he asked, feigning offense.

You chuckled, amused by his theatrics. "Know your place," you teased, leaning closer as a mischievous grin spread across your face.

His pout melted into a radiant smile, his dimple making a brief appearance. "I was kidding earlier, babe," he said softly, though his playful tone lingered as he began walking backward to face you, still holding your hand securely in his.

Seungcheol's gaze lingered on you, his eyes warm and filled with adoration. After a moment, he raised a brow and asked, “Can I stay the night?” The flirty tilt of his tone made you raise yours in mock disbelief.

“Isn’t this the first time you’re actually asking?” you questioned, suppressing a laugh as you tilted your head.

He nodded, chuckling at your amused expression. “I know, I know. I must be the worst boyfriend, huh? I never ask for consent, I won’t kill anyone for my girlfriend, and to top it all off, I make fun of her slender arms.”

You gasped in mock outrage and raised your hand to playfully slap his arm, but he anticipated it and bolted ahead, laughter echoing through the quiet park near the restaurant. The chase was on, and you found yourself running after him, your laughter mingling with his in the cool night air.

That night, before heading home, the park became your private playground, filled with stolen moments of joy and carefree laughter. You hoped, for both your sakes, that no paparazzi managed to capture the scene.

*

You entered your apartment, Seungcheol trailing behind you. Though it wasn’t as luxurious or spacious as Seungcheol’s place, it carried a charm he adored—you. Every corner of your home was filled with your scent, your presence, and your personality. To him, it wasn’t just a place—it was a sanctuary, his sanctuary.

“Home sweet home,” you muttered, kicking off your shoes. Seungcheol smiled, watching as you settled in, your energy shifting into the comfort of your space.

As usual, Jibby, your orange tabby cat, sauntered over to greet you, his tail flicking lazily behind him. The cat had been your loyal companion ever since you rescued him on a shooting set two years ago. Predictably, Jibby ignored Seungcheol entirely, keeping his amber eyes locked on you with unwavering devotion.

“Still no love for me, huh?” Seungcheol joked, crouching to scratch Jibby behind the ears, only to receive a flick of the tail in return. “This cat’s got some serious attitude.”

You chuckled, picking up Jibby and holding him close. “He’s selective. He knows who pays the rent around here.”

As you placed Jibby back on the floor, you noticed strands of his fur scattered everywhere. “Oh, Jibby! Your fur’s everywhere!” you exclaimed, brushing some off your pants.

Seungcheol nodded in agreement, crouching to inspect the floor. “It’s not even summer, and he’s already shedding like crazy. You think he’s stressed?”

Your face filled with concern as you knelt beside Jibby, running your hands gently over his fur. “Oh no, Jibby. What’s wrong, baby? Are you okay?”

Before you could continue, Jibby let out a loud, startling meow, making both you and Seungcheol jump. The sound was completely out of character—Jibby was always a calm and quiet cat.

“That’s...new,” Seungcheol said, frowning. “I’ve never heard him meow like that before.”

Your concern deepened, and as if on cue, there was a knock at the door. Opening it, you found your building’s security guard standing there. “Sorry to bother you,” he said, his tone apologetic. “We got a report from your neighbor. They said your cat’s been meowing loudly for hours. Is everything okay?”

You turned back to Jibby, the worry evident in your eyes. “I don’t know,” you admitted, stroking his fur as he let out another sharp meow. “I think something’s wrong.”

That night, sleep was the last thing on your mind. You stayed up with Jibby, trying to comfort him as his restless meows continued. Seungcheol, sensing how stressed you were, insisted on staying over. When he saw how exhausted you looked around 3 a.m., he gently took over, cradling Jibby in his arms while you rested on the couch.

By dawn, it was clear Jibby needed professional care. “I’ll take him to the vet,” Seungcheol offered, his voice soft but firm. “You’ve got an early schedule, and I can handle this.”

You hesitated, guilt flickering in your eyes. “Are you sure? You’ve already—”

“Hey,” he interrupted, giving you a reassuring smile. “Jibby’s family. And family takes care of each other.”

As you watched him gently place Jibby into the carrier, whispering soothing words to the stressed cat, you felt a swell of gratitude and love for the man who had seamlessly woven himself into your life—and Jibby’s too.

The next day, Seungcheol received a call from the vet. The feline, Jibby, was missing home and showing signs of increased stress. Hearing this, Seungcheol couldn’t help but worry. You were out of town for a shooting schedule and wouldn’t be back until the next day, so Seungcheol decided to take matters into his own hands. He asked his manager to help him pick up Jibby from the vet, determined to make the cat feel better.

Driving to your apartment with Jibby in the passenger seat was no small task. The cat meowed incessantly, his cries echoing through the car. Seungcheol tried speaking to him in the same soft, soothing tone he had heard you use countless times. “Hey, buddy, we’re going home. You’ll feel better soon, I promise,” he said, glancing over at Jibby. But his attempts were futile; the cat’s distress didn’t subside, and Seungcheol found himself understanding your concern on a much deeper level.

Once they arrived, Seungcheol texted you: “Jibby’s home safe now. Don’t worry, I’ve got him.”

He set down Jibby’s carrier, opened it, and placed some food in the bowl. He watched as the cat cautiously stepped out, sniffing around before beginning to eat. Gradually, Jibby seemed to relax.

Seungcheol didn’t turn on the lights, thinking it might overwhelm Jibby. Instead, he opened the curtains slightly, letting the moonlight bathe the room in a soft glow. Leaning back on the couch, he kept an eye on the cat, who finally settled beside him.

“You finally opened up to me, huh, Jibby?” Seungcheol murmured, his voice tinged with amusement. It felt like a small victory to earn even a fraction of the cat’s trust.

Suddenly, the sound of the passcode being entered broke the serene moment. Seungcheol sat up, his body tensing. You weren’t supposed to be home until tomorrow. Who could it be?

The door creaked open, and a shadowy figure in a hoodie stepped inside. Jibby’s demeanor shifted instantly; he bolted toward the figure, his fur standing on end as he hissed and meowed angrily.

Seungcheol’s heart pounded as he rose from the couch, flipping on the lights. “Who are you?” he barked, his voice filled with authority. The intruder froze for a second before bolting for the door.

Not wasting a moment, Seungcheol dashed after him. The man was just reaching the emergency exit when Seungcheol grabbed him by the hoodie and shoved him against the wall with a force that came from pure adrenaline.

“Who are you?!” Seungcheol growled, his voice dangerously low as he pressed the man harder against the wall, preventing any chance of escape. “Why are you here? Why do you know my girlfriend’s passcode?”

The intruder struggled, but Seungcheol’s grip was unyielding. The hours he’d spent learning jiu-jitsu were finally paying off. His sharp eyes scanned the area until he spotted a CCTV camera. Without hesitation, he dragged the man into its view, ensuring the footage would capture everything.

Jibby followed, his meows loud and furious as if scolding the man himself. The cat even swiped at the intruder’s legs, his claws adding to the chaos.

Moments later, two security guards arrived, their faces a mix of concern and confusion. “What’s going on here?” one of them asked.

Seungcheol’s jaw tightened as he explained, his voice steady but laced with anger. “This guy broke into my girlfriend’s apartment. He knew her passcode. I caught him before he could get away.”

The guards immediately restrained the man, apologizing profusely to Seungcheol. “We’ll handle this. Thank you for acting quickly, sir,” one of them said as they led the intruder away.

Seungcheol stood tall in front of the man sitting tied to the chair in the dimly lit security room. The sight of him was sickening. Moments earlier, Seungcheol had watched the CCTV footage of this guy sneaking into your apartment multiple times in recent days. A wave of anger surged through him as he pieced things together. Was this the reason Jibby had been so stressed lately?

Seungcheol’s hand instinctively went to rub Jibby, who sat calmly in his arms, a stark contrast to the turmoil bubbling inside him. The cat, ever so loyal, seemed to sense his unease.

The man muttered something under his breath, barely audible. “I’m just a fan…”

Seungcheol’s blood boiled at those words. He stepped closer, his voice sharp and unwavering. “No fan should do this. You’re not a fan—you’re a criminal!” He clenched his fists, the urge to lash out barely held in check.

The security guards standing nearby intervened, stepping between Seungcheol and the intruder. “Sir, please, the cops are on their way. We need your cooperation,” one of them said firmly, trying to de-escalate the situation.

But Seungcheol wasn’t ready to let it go. He glared at the man, his voice dripping with contempt. “What did you do? Did you plant a camera or something? Huh?” He leaned in, his intense gaze locking on the man, pressing him for answers.

The intruder hesitated, his eyes darting nervously before he gave a reluctant nod. That was all it took. Rage exploded in Seungcheol as he handed Jibby to a nearby guard before grabbing the man by his collar.

“You sick—” Seungcheol growled, but before he could finish or act on his anger, the security team pulled him back, their firm grip reminding him to maintain control.

“Mr. Choi, we’ve got this. Let us handle it,” one of the guards reassured him.

Seungcheol’s chest heaved as he let go, glaring daggers at the man who cowered in the chair.

Seungcheol stormed out of the security room, his frustration bubbling over as he marched toward the head of security standing nearby.

“How did this even happen?” Seungcheol’s voice was sharp, cutting through the tense atmosphere. “Your job is to protect her and everyone in this building. Do you even realize how badly you’ve failed?”

The head of security looked uneasy but tried to maintain composure. “Sir, we’re investigating the breach—”

“Investigating?” Seungcheol scoffed, his voice rising. “This isn’t some minor mistake! That man entered her home multiple times, and you didn’t notice? What if she had been home alone? Can you guarantee what that bastard could’ve done to her?” His voice cracked slightly at the end, the thought of you in danger overwhelming him.

“Mr. Choi, I assure you—”

“No!” Seungcheol cut him off, stepping closer. “You can’t assure me of anything. You couldn’t even keep a stranger out of her home! She trusted this place to be safe, and you let her down.”

The head of security hesitated, clearly struggling to respond, as Seungcheol continued. “Do you know how terrified she’ll be when she finds out? Do you know how hard she works, how much she sacrifices, only to come home to this?”

Taking a deep breath, he added, “I don’t care what it takes—double the patrols, update your system, install better cameras, do something. Because if this happens again, I swear, there’ll be hell to pay.”

The head of security nodded quickly. “Understood, Mr. Choi. We’ll prioritize this immediately. I’ll personally oversee the updates and report back.”

Turning on his heel, Seungcheol made his way back to your apartment with Jibby settled on his arms. As he entered, he set Jibby down gently and sighed, his heart still racing. His protective instincts were on overdrive, and all he wanted was to make sure you were safe.

He sent you another text:

“Call me when you can.”

Seungcheol leaned back on the couch, his gaze shifting to Jibby, who was curled up on the carpet, seemingly calm after the ordeal. The sight of the cat, finally at ease, should’ve been comforting, but it wasn’t.

The thought of leaving you and Jibby alone in this apartment, even for a second, made his stomach twist. He sat forward, rubbing his temples as his mind raced. “I can’t just leave you here,” he muttered, as if Jibby could understand.

Decision made, Seungcheol stood and began gathering a few of Jibby’s essentials. He packed the cat’s food, a couple of toys, and the small bed you’d bought for him. Jibby tilted his head curiously, his tail flicking as he watched Seungcheol move around.

“You’re coming with me, buddy,” Seungcheol said softly, crouching down to scratch behind Jibby’s ears. “At least until we know this place is safe again. No arguments, okay?”

Jibby responded with a low purr, and Seungcheol took it as agreement.

*

"Why is he in your place?" you asked, your laughter spilling through the phone as you watched Jibby sprawled comfortably beside Seungcheol on his couch. His home looked warm and inviting in the dim lighting, and even through the screen, you could see how relaxed Jibby seemed.

Seungcheol smiled at your reaction, his voice softening. "Jibby feels at home here. I think he loves my place. Isn’t that right, Jibby? You want to live here with me?"

As if on cue, Jibby let out a soft meow and snuggled closer into Seungcheol’s arm, his orange fur brushing against Seungcheol’s sweater. You chuckled, shaking your head in disbelief.

"I left him with you for one day, and now you two are best friends? This is betrayal," you teased, though your heart warmed at the sight of them together.

Seungcheol laughed, patting Jibby gently on his back. "Oh, it’s not betrayal. He actually loves me—he just doesn’t want to make you jealous."

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips. "Sure, sure. Next thing I know, you’ll be telling me he’s moving in with you."

Seungcheol tilted his head, a playful glint in his eyes. "Actually, I was thinking you both could. I mean, look at him. He’s practically claimed my couch already."

Your laugh turned into a soft sigh. "Babe, you’re joking, right?"

"Am I?" He raised an eyebrow, his tone playful but his expression growing serious. "Think about it. Jibby clearly loves it here. My place is bigger and you wouldn’t have to worry about leaving him when you’re out for work. Plus..."—his voice softened—"I’d get to see you every day."

You blinked at him, caught off guard by the earnestness in his words. "Baby, are you actually suggesting I move in with you?"

"Why not?" He shrugged, but the hopeful look in his eyes betrayed how much he meant it. "It makes sense. Jibby’s happy here, and I’d feel better knowing you’re both safe. You can have your own space, do things your way. No pressure, but... I’d really like it if you were here."

Your gaze shifted to Jibby, who was now fully sprawled out on Seungcheol’s lap, purring softly. The sight was oddly comforting, and you couldn’t deny how much you missed Seungcheol already, even though you’d only been apart for a day.

"I don’t know," you said hesitantly, though your voice wavered with the idea already taking root in your mind. "It’s a big step."

Seungcheol leaned closer to the camera, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Big steps aren’t so scary when you’re not taking them alone, you know. Just think about it, okay?"

Your heart fluttered at his words, and you nodded, unable to suppress the smile that crept onto your face. "I’ll think about it."

Seungcheol grinned, the kind of grin that made your chest feel warm. "Good. Jibby and I will be waiting."

The sight of him and Jibby, so at ease together, made you wonder if moving in wasn’t such a crazy idea after all.

End.

[meansevika]

okay so very long thinkpiece about meljay and jayce' treatment of mel / the writers treatment of mel and how i think that all things considered she hasnt really won as much as we think she did

the thing about this that makes me so mad or rather sad (both, actually) is that we learn in season 1 how mel was brought up, that she didn't get to be soft and kind, that her surroundings were hard and rough just like her mother was, that love isn't a thing she knows like that especially not in relation to vulnerability. now if you think about media in general there is a pattern we know. the black woman is always the strong woman, the independent woman, the woman who doesnt get to be vulnerable bc of the first two points. so here comes this man she's trying to use not just for her own endeavors but for the good of piltover, clearly having a different mindset than her mother, and he cracks her open just like that. he's vulnerable with her and he lets her be vulnerable with him and it allows this woman this kind of vulnerability that she was never allowed to feel. she feels and she loves and there is someone who holds her and looks out for her when things go bad. he is his first thought after the bombing and hes so loving and endearing unlike her mother who is concerned, of course, but straight back to business too. and oh what a lovely thing that was to watch as a black woman who to this day still doesn't get to see this as often as we really should

so mel gets to experience something she hasnt before and you can tell it means something to her because when she gets back in act 3 the first reaction to him is an excited, hopeful one.

this is the man she cares deeply for and it is also the man who shes comforted before many times. something she needs in those very confusing times too. something she might be looking out for. something she might hope to get herself. some comforting after what shes been through for months. someone to share what is going on with her and how confusing it is to find out all those lies and secrets about herself.

until she notices how changed he is, how different he looks, so instantly she is worried. of course! who wouldnt be! she very likely didnt even know he was missing since its the first time we see her back in the city so she must've assumed he has been here and well for the whole time being (does she even know how long its been?) but it isnt fine as we know. she puts herself second! immediately! (and rewatching that scene now it actually makes me mad how she does that. and how anyone can question any of her feelings for him when shes immediately all jayce. or how in general people think shes only interested in her own goals) she asks this man who has shown her to be vulnerable around him and it BEING FINE, what happened, shes opening herself up to him, again, over and over, and he not only tells her it doesnt matter (what happened to him) but TURNS HIS BACK ON HER. he is literally shutting her off. he is saying with his body she does not get to do that. and for someone who has grown up like this, with a mother cutting off any kind of displays of weakness, this must be a familiar feeling, something that goes off like a bell

but she still tries! she still tries! she sees something is wrong but she tries to get comfort anyway, because this is jayce, right, this is the man she cares for deeply, the man who has opened this door for her and the door she's let herself through, the man who has always had compassion for her. of course she tries again. why wouldn't she? so she starts that something has happened to her but he doesn't even let her tell him what happened (actually it makes me so mad seeing this again and how crazy hostile he is towards her, its like im looking at the mel hating part of arcanetwt and him repeating beat for beat what theyve been saying for years) he doesnt give her room to speak, just takes it for himself, prioritizing himself and his own feelings. and, yes, figuring out the bombing thing and wanting to talk about it is valid and i think in general this could've been a great angsty way to deal with this topic IF they would've had the opportunity to talk this out properly but what happens instead is that the man that makes mel feel safe starts INTERROGATING her like she is a criminal that should be held for trial FOR SAVING HIM something she doesnt even undestand herself. and suddenly she is in a whole different position and i think by now she knows that this kind of compassion and understanding and room for vulnerability isn't part of their conversation anymore

she loses her composure and that of course isnt a first because she has started to be less put together around him, allowing her more room to "sway" but this kind of destruction is a different one because she feels at trial, feels cornered, feels like she has to explain herself but - and thats what is important - isnt heard. and i think that is something she knows very well, something shes grown up with, trying to explain herself and not being heard.

all of that happens while he is, mind you, still holding onto that hammer. something she surely notices too. the man who's usually quick to let down his defences around her, who isnt councilor talis or mister talis but just jayce around her, is holding onto that hammer like shes a threat. so he tells her he thinks shes lying and she asks him why he would think she'd do that, obviously, because her understanding of their relationship and their trust is a different one than his or at least this jayce that has come back from the arcane, because clearly this kind of understanding comes from somewhere and it comes from the times they've spent together alone throughout season 1 and a little in the beginning of season 2.

he throws at her that shes been using him, something that surprises her, because clearly she doesnt know what has happened, but she tries to explain anyway, because she doesnt know what has happened at least not in full (as you can tell by her reaction to viktor appearing, sensing the hostile mood between both, but also the way she reacts when viktor mentions the noxians intentions), and you can see that these thoughts of his are a result of months in the arcane alone with them and imagining conversations over conversations (although for me its still hard to understand how he grew that hostile towards her this quickly as if she were responsible for everything that happened but those are thoughts for a different post). he crashes out during that conversation, his face is warped with hatred and that is. all. for. her. to. see. and then BOOM goes the hammer off. mid conversation. a conversation that should feel safe with a man she should feel safe with but none of that is there. there is no space for her. (and yes i know hes aiming at viktors puppet but that isnt somethng mel is aware in that moment)

it all leads up to a fight and eventually they walk together and he apologizes, although very distantly and without much explanation, and despite it all, despite having good reasons to shut off and not share what she's feeling, she does. she talks to him about what is on her mind and they have a short, bittersweet exchange but it's just nowhere to what they've established in the first season. as a shipper of course that is super frustrating, but as a mel fan it's just sad to see that the person she felt safe enough to seek comfort in is just so closed off. but not only that, it's obvious they're parting ways and it's very obvious this is coming from his side and i think that is also why she so wilingly accepts it. she doesn't fight much back throughout their whole fight earlier either, she tries to explain herself, but doesnt demand that room for herself even though in this relationship she should be able to take just as much room for herself and her feelings as he does, but she doesn't. she just lets it happen and i understand it bc you have this man you trust and probably love and his first reaction to you is hostile when hostile has never been a response to her. he made a complete u-turn and of course that's off putting, maybe even scary, of course it shuts her down, makes someone who's so good with words and fighting just try to cause as little damage as possible because that is how she's grown up, isn't it?

and that is why i am sad about this. she learned that love doesnt have to look like her mothers and that being vulnerable isnt a weakness and its his doing but here she is met by this kind of hostility she only knows from noxus and it hurts even more that it COMES FROM HIM and over something as SAVING HIS LIFE when its clearly was an act out of love and not investment bc if i'd would've been just that than she would've saved viktor as well? but it wasnt about that. it was her subconscious making a decision and it was something her mother would describe as an act of weakness (theres a reason she gets renni to attack him bc she sees how fond mel of him is maybe even because shes been fond of a man herself once and she knows what itll do) and i think the worst part about it is that she doesnt ever get to truly articulate this or anything else and now that jayce is gone (dead? in a stone? who knows?) she won't get to ever probably. she won't get to say what she thinks and explain herself truly and she won't have anyone to confide in, to be comforted by or comfort. elora is dead, kino wasn't real and the real one is actually dead too, jayce is well whatever he is, and her mother died in her arms. yes, mel is a mage and that is fucking awesome and i was so happy to see her go off and get so many spotlights in battle, but shes also so fucking tragic actually. because here she is with a fuck ton of weight on her shoulders, the noxian army looking up to her, the whole name, not knowing who her father is or what any of her powers mean, the whole black rose thing, everything unresolved between her and jayce, the death of the people she loves, and shes all alone with it. shes all alone with it and she gets no one. man im just fucking sad that this woman got a glimpse of what it could be like to be loved and have someone to "come home to" just for her to have literally no one left like why do you hate black women so much why cant they get a fucking good ending and why cant they be fucking loved even when things get hard

also im lowkey mad that jayce got to find comfort in her lap so many times and not once did she get that in return, not even a squeeze of her shoulder, but dont let me get started on that....

[plethorawrites]

"Haven't I given enough?"

Character: Jason Todd x Reader

Content: Hurt with comfort

Word Count: 2.6k

A/N: First post?!? I've written a few of these and published them anonymously on AO3 but figured I'd give it a shot on here as well.

Jason was troubled. It was a label that others had branded him with, but one he never tried to deny either. He thought it was true. He was screwed up, his body marked by years of scars and his mind equally as traumatized with the kind of scars you couldn’t see but definitely knew were there. It didn’t mean he couldn’t be kind or gentle, especially to you, but sometimes, the only way he really knew how to cope was through doing something physical.

At first, that was running, or hitting something. Even going to the salvage yard outside of town to scream for a while. That’s what he had always done when things got really bad. Then, slowly he realized you’d be there and you could take him. Literally. You could tolerate him fucking all his stress out through you. Using you.

Sometimes he felt bad about it, but you always seemed so sure that it was okay. That even if he happened to leave bruises (like he usually did) they never hurt too bad. You enjoyed too, so he kept doing it. Not often, just on the particularly bad nights.

Nights like the one he just had.

When he slammed the door shut behind him all the lights were off in the apartment and he was worried you might have been asleep. He really hated the idea of waking you up, but God, he was so...unexplainably upset. Angry, frustrated, sad in ways his mind couldn’t quite comprehend.

His mind was a mess and to be completely honest, he was so worked up he couldn’t figure out what to do. Kicking something, screaming, maybe crying. No, definitely not crying. Even if he could feel a few tears pricking in the back of his eyes he choked them down, refuses to let them fall. Instead, he walked towards the bedroom, just hoping you were still awake.

You were, of course. But even if you had been asleep, the door slamming would have woken you up.

He pushed the door open and his expression immediately softened upon seeing you, sitting up in bed, wearing one of his shirts.

“You’re home late,” you remarked, closing your—his—book and setting it on the nightstand. “Did something happen?”

He knew you knew something was wrong. You could always tell. But you were too nice to outright tell him how shitty he looked and instead sat up even further, causing some of your hair to fall over your shoulder, grazing your collarbone.

“Nothing I want to talk about,” Jason replied. He hated talking about his feelings in general, but would do it occasionally, under the right circumstances. These were not them.

He kicked his shoes off by the bedroom door and started pulling his clothes off as he walked towards the bed, dropping his gloves on the floor alongside his pants and the rest of his things. He could see the shift in your demeanor; you knew what he wanted. To forget, to let you take away all of his anger and pain so he didn’t have to deal with it for the night. He wanted to get lost in you and forget about how bad everything hurt. Physically and emotionally.

He sat on the bed, instantly reaching for your face, pulling you towards him, kissing you harshly. His teeth scraped yours, noses bumping against each other as the tightness of his shoulder’s coiled further, the action seeming to make things worse. Still, he didn’t stop.

Jason pressed his other hand to the back of your head, pushing himself further into you as your hands instinctively began to roam his abdomen. “Bad night?” you mumbled just before he bit down on your lip, tearing a bit of skin.

“Bad night,” he responded succinctly, grabbing your waist, squeezing it tightly. His head was a jumble of loud thoughts, for some reason harder to ignore than usual but he kept trying.

Reaching for the bottom of your shirt, he pulled it up over your head you let him. To his dismay, you had a bra on under it, and panties too.

Wrapping your arms around his neck as he laid you down on the pillows, his body pressing into yours firmly as your lips locked again for a moment. Jason kissed down your neck, sucking at the sensitive skin eliciting a gasp.

For a split-second, the voices were quiet. They always were when he heard you moaning and whimpering or saying his name over and over. The pain always stayed though, but usually he could tolerate it if he just focused on the motions, on pushing you as deep into the mattress as possible, on rutting his hip into yours until he physically ached from something other than sore bones and old scars.

His hands groped the soft flesh of your waist and hips as he tugged at the top of your underwear, his hand slipping inside.

Jason froze.

His hand still in your underwear, his lips paused against your neck, breathing heavily as the heavy silence made his ears ring.

That had never happened before. Ever. But in that moment, he couldn’t think, couldn’t move.

He couldn’t do this with you, not tonight.

Quickly, he removed his hand, pushing himself off you until he was sitting up. He couldn’t breathe. The room suddenly felt a lot smaller than he always remembered it being. Had it always been so cramped? Or this hot, for that matter. Did you turn the heater up tonight?

Jason swallowed, his throat feeling dry and heart hammering in his chest. “I- I’m sorry,” he apologized as he got up. “I need to get some water.”

“Wait a minute-” you sat up as quickly as he had, grabbing his wrist. You knew he could easily pull away, but he didn’t. He didn’t turn to face you either, though. “What’s wrong?”

Jason’s chest heaved as he tried to breathe, it felt tight, it ached. He hated it. “I just can’t do that tonight,” he managed to say.

He remained—mostly—calm as he kept his eyes glued to the floor. He hated to envision the look on your face. Was it confusion? Was it anger? Something worse, like pity? He didn’t know which of those options seemed preferable.

“Okay,” you agreed easily, tugging on his wrist lightly. “We don’t have to do anything,” you assured him. “Just come lay down.”

He shook his head, swallowing again, his heart still thumping rapidly. “No- no I have stuff to do, I—”

“Jay,” you said calmly, the sound of his voice soothing him slightly. “You’ve been working all night and it’s late. Just lay down.”

Jason bit the inside of his cheek as he stared at the ground. He could feel it, the tears pricking in his eyes again. It had been like that all night and each time he kept pushing them down and now he heard your voice, so gentle and sweet and it made them reappear again.

He took a deep breath. You wouldn’t let this go. If he left the room, you’d follow him and stand with him in the kitchen while he drank his water. He didn’t want that. He wanted this day to be over as soon as humanly possible.

But... “I’m not tired,” was all that came out of his mouth.

Exhaling, Jason turned around, barely able to look at you. His breath caught in his throat at the sight of you with your haired messed up and your neck covered in two or three small bruises on your neck, your chest falling and rising as you caught your breath as well.

Should he hand your shirt back? Apologize again? Leave?

Before he could decide, you were sitting up onto your knees, reaching for him, trying to pull him back towards the bed. Back towards you. He reluctantly let himself be moved, taking a heavy step closer, then another. He sat back down, his gaze falling to the blanket.

“Do you want to talk about it?” you asked, even though you both knew it was futile. He shook his head, his jaw clenched tightly to remind himself to keep it together. At least in front of you. You held his hand, your thumb swiping over the back of his knuckle as you nodded slowly, taking your other hand and placing it on his shoulder. “Just lay down,” you suggested.

Jason nodded and tried to move to his side of the bed, but you wouldn’t let go of his hand. Instead, you gently pulled him forward, laying back down, insisting he follow. He hovered above you, unsure of what to do. He didn’t want to hurt you.

“Lay down,” you repeated gently, your eyes softening even more.

“I don’t wanna crush you,” Jason confessed.

“You won’t,” you assured him.

He hesitantly lowered himself down, pressing more and more of his body weight against you. He could feel the mattress dipping as he did. He’d pushed you into it plenty of times, but not like this.

With his entire body weight on top of you, he exhaled, propping his chin on your chest, staring at you for a few seconds, not quite sure where else to look or what else to do with his hands or legs.

You fixed that.

Jason could feel you tangle your legs with his, wrapping your arms around him, one of your hands finding the locks of his hair to fuss with while the other traced random shapes on his shoulder.

Suddenly, the heat from before that felt like it was suffocating him evaporated, replaced by the warmth of your bare skin against him. He carefully wrapped his arms around you. He’d sure they would go numb soon, after all his entire weight, plus yours were laying on top of them now that they were under your back.

He wondered if that was uncomfortable for you, if maybe he should pull them away and just with them by his sides but before he could ask your hand was tugging at his hair, gently pressing his face into your neck. Not to kiss or mark it. Just to lay there, to breathe you in and hold you.

“I’ve got you,” you promised him, running your hands through his hair, scratching his scalp lightly.

Jason nuzzled your neck slightly, inhaling deeply, the scent of you filling his senses. Before he knew what was happening, the tears in his eyes started to fall without warning.

He didn’t have the chance to fight them at first, a few dampening your neck, but the second he realized what was happening he pulled away, pressing his forehead against the valley of your breasts while taking a few deep breaths, trying to calm himself. “Sorry,” he whispered, his voice cracking. The sound was so pathetic it made him hate himself even more.

You shushed him gently, still playing with his hair as your other hand laid flat on his back. “It’s okay,” you assured. “You’re okay.”

That was the final straw, the supportive tone of your voice broke the dam he had built and his tears started to fall as he shook his head. “I’m not okay,” he confessed, his words spoken into your skin. “Nothing is okay.”

Your heart broke for him, feeling his grip on you tighten even more. You let your hand fall from his hair, wrapping around him, trying to pull him closer or at the very least keep him from leaving like you knew he was contemplating doing.

What could you say that would help? Nothing seemed good enough, so you just let him bury his face in your chest, holding him as he shook from the tears, muttering apologies and words of self-deprecation.

“I’m right here,” you swore. “You don’t need to apologize for anything. Not to me.”

Each word you spoke was like a dagger to his chest, the soft reassurance and whispered praise mixed with how firm your grip on him was made his chest swell as all the pain he refused to let himself feel hit him all at once with an overwhelming force.

Jason hated the burning in his chest, the sting in his eyes, the weakness he felt. Most of all, he hated feeling all of this in front of you. But more than that, he refused to pull away or deprive himself of your touch. He needed it to damn badly. It was the only thing keeping him afloat most days.

“It hurts,” he told you. “So badly. All the time.”

Your arms tightened around him again as you tried to keep yourself from crying with him, the sound of his sobs escaping making your heart hurt more with each failed attempt to make himself stop.

“Let it,” you breathed, resting your jaw on the top of his head as he hid his face in your breasts. “Just for tonight.”

Feeling the pain seemed like a foreign concept to him, but you made it sound so appealing, to just let himself feel weak. Just this once. Just for tonight. He could do that. The only reason why was because you were holding him, comforting him as the pain in his chest grew and grew until he was nearly hyperventilating.

Once again, you were shushing him, your hand softly stroking his hair. “Breathe,” you murmured, inhaling deeply, hoping he could feel it while laying on you. “I know it’s hard, I know it hurts. Just breathe.”

Jason sniffled, taking a shaky breath, timing it at the same time as your own deep inhale and holding a few seconds like you did before exhaling.

“Again,” you whispered, your nails trailing up and down his spine in a soothing motion. He listened and you could feel his body calming down just a little. “Just like that.”

His continued to cry, this time much softer. Like a residual that he needed to get out. Your skin now wet with his tears, but it didn’t matter much.

You placed a kiss to the top of his head. “I love you,” came out in a small whisper as you nuzzled the dark locks of his hair. “So much.”

Jason sniffled again, lifting his head to look at you. He was ashamed to. He felt weak and pathetic and hated to think of you seeing him like that, but he needed to say something and he needed to see your dace when he did.

You could see the redness in his eyes, a stark contrast to the dark purple circles under his eyes from lack of sleep. His nightmares had been particularly bad lately, no doubt contributing to the mountain of problems that led to his breakdown.

“I don’t know how you can love me when I’m this messed up,” he confessed, his voice sounding vulnerable and raw from crying.

You pushed the white streak in his hair away from his face, gently running the back of your knuckles over his cheek. “Everyone is messed up, baby,” you told him quietly. “But I’m not going anywhere.”

Jason’s hands had gone numb underneath your back, so he couldn’t feel them, but he was fairly certain he was trying to squeeze you harder. That’s what he thought he’d be doing, at least.

He dropped his head, kissing the middle of your clavicle where your collarbones met. Just once. Softly. He could the salt from his tears on your skin and it made them prick in his eyes again. He didn’t fight them as hard this time.

Laying his head in between your breasts, he inhaled and exhaled, closing his eyes. Another tear rolled down his cheek and he let it, choosing to instead focusing on the feeling of your skin. Your bare stomach against his, your arms around him, your nails scratching his scalp and back.

This wasn’t what he wanted when came home tonight. But falling asleep in your arms, using your chest as a pillow, listening the sound of your heartbeat and feeling the steady rhythm of your breathing was so much better.

[starlightoru-gojo]

You already accepted the moment you said ‘yes’ to be in a relationship with Satoru Gojo that you won’t be always the priority. He is a busy man, he has a lot of priorities on his shoulders, you know how heavy the responsibilities were given to him unapologetically because he was named as the strongest. He’s just also a victim a the circumstances. During your relationship, Satoru missed a lot of important dates be it anniversaries, your birthday or even his yet you just always shrugged it off and tell him “It’s okay, Satoru. I understand.” Despite that, you choose to marry him because you love the man so much. You already know what you applied for, really. But, maybe, years of your patience snapped. You can’t just forgive him this time, now when it’s your son’s birthday and he’s not there.

The party’s over and no papa showed up. You organized everything with him yet he’s out of sight.

You looked at the remnants of the party, balloons everywhere, stickers and toys that are on the floor. It’s pretty messy. You started cleaning after all you can’t be tired not when your 2 year old son is helping you clean. You start by pulling out the ceiling decorations and then the walls. Your son is picking up toys and putting it in a box. You already talked him out to just let you do the work but is stubborn just like that. “Babe, let mama clean, okay?” You said grabbing the designs off the wall, you baby just looked up and smile at you then to the front door “Papa home?” Your eyes wide in shock while he looked at you with hopeful eyes. You climbed down the ladder you’ve been using to picked up your son. He yawned when you kneeled in-front of him. “You’re waiting for Papa?” He just nod and rub his watery eyes from lack of sleep. Your heart aches so you just hugged him just to give him comfort or just maybe for you too. You can’t really forgive Satoru this time. “Uhm maybe tomorrow? Go to sleep, I’ll wake you up when Papa’s here.”

Your son choose to sleep on the couch because you are washing the dishes and wants to looked at you or more like guard you. He is very protective of you, just like his father. But seeing his small figure curled in the sofa makes you melt and soft.

“Acting like a man, are you?” You pinch his chubby cheek, staring at your handsome son. You sat on the floor mat, watching your precious meat bun. His cheeks looked like xiaolongbao. Lifting him carefully, you carry your son who adjusted himself on you hugging your neck. You cooed, you’re about to walk upstairs when your front door opened. You stared at Satoru who just walked in with tons of gift in his hands. He looked at you apologetically and you just leave him there.

“Hey… babe-“ he grab your waist before you can even walk further.

“Not right now. Don’t even start, Satoru.” You calmly said but with full of conviction. Satoru looked at you with his pleading eyes.

“Okay. Just let me carry my son, please.” Your heart ache, clenching your jaw. You don’t know, but you just suddenly became very protective of your son that you just walk out in front of his father.

“Babe, please…” Satoru followed you upstairs pleading but you’re just furious just by looking at him. You can’t just forgive him just because you let him every time. Tucking your son on his bed and kissed his forehead and whispered a sweet good night. Satoru watched you did all of it. He knew he messed up and you’re easy when it comes to your son. You both quietly move out the room but Satoru immediately talk.

“Y/n.” grabbing your hand to stop you from walking away. Your home was lightly illuminated, serene and quiet, it was over all peaceful but your heart isn’t. You just looked at him with indifference that made Satoru flinch.

“You promised, Satoru.” You coldly said.

“I know. And I’m sorry,” He said with pain in his chest. It wasn’t his intention, he was about to go home when things just haywire, he could have just leave the mission but the higher ups will just not let it that way. “It’s wasn’t my intention. Babe, you know I would never do that to my son—“

“But, you did. I let you off every time, accepted your apologies, you could even leave us a message that you trapped in some far away land! You know what, just be clear with us! I openly accepted that I am not the priority but not with my son, Satoru. This was not the first time you let him hanging—“ your tears fell remembering how your son would wait in your front door because his father promised he would bring him sweets and was meet with nothing. “Just… don’t make promises you won’t fulfill, Satoru. Don’t hurt him anymore.”

You saw how Satoru opened his mouth to say something but closed it. You let go of his hand, walking towards the living room where you left the cleaning to attend to your son first. Wiping your tears and just focused on the chores.

Satoru followed after picking up the party poppers and carrying the chairs. You’re both silent, minding each other’s business. You can feel Satoru’s gaze and you can’t help but ache you don’t want this but you’re just angry right bow. Satoru’s the one who finished grabbing the designs on the ceiling, you watched him, shoulders slouch and tired eyes. But you shrugged it off, he should know that he just hit your limit. His carrying boxes while your just wiping some stains on the floor when you heard small steps scurrying.

“Papa!” You and Satoru immediately looked at the little one slowly going down stairs. Satoru who is about to carry a big box stopped and looked at you. You watch him but teared off your eyes when you saw how your son excitedly run towards his father. You watched how Satoru deal with his son.

Kneeling in front of your son, Satoru, watched him closely, apologizing or whatever you can see in his eyes yet his son was looking at him with glimmer in his eyes. Satoru gulped trying so hard to stop his tears.

“Happy birthday, big boy.” You can hear Satoru’s strained voice, his eyes water and you looked away. “I’m sorry if Papa was not here, earlier.” Satoru hugged his son, apologizing. Your son just hugged his father back with a confused look on his face.

“Papa gift?”

You scoffed. Both Satoru and your son looked at you. Two pairs of beautiful blue eyes are watching you closely. You chuckle while wiping your tears walking towards your boys. For all the things that happened the only thing that matters is his gift.

You snatched your son away and jokingly squinting at Satoru on the ground. “Where’s your son’s gift?”

[puckinghischier]

last time quinn got a penalty i thought about him being angry and taking it out on you but tonight im thinking about you comforting him bc he starts spiraling that he’s not worthy of the c on his chest and you’re the only one who can ground him

he was off from the second he walked in the door. shoulders slumped and eyes rimmed red. he came over to you immediately and draped his large body over yours, needing your comfort.

you don’t say a word, letting him lay for as long as he needs to, one hand softly scratching his back while the other lightly scratches his scalp. when he finally sits up, alleviating the pressure on your body, you see how dejected and sad his features are. you sit up with him, standing and grabbing is hand, leading him to the large bathroom attached to your room. you turn the shower on and start removing his clothes, not a sexual motive to be found.

it’s like he’s a ragdoll, limbs heavy and easily manipulated. he lets you undress him fully before you undress yourself, leading him into the warm shower. you take your time, washing his hair thoroughly before switching to his body. you massage and caress every muscle. leave a trail of kisses along his chest as you rub your sudsy hands across his back. even take a cheeky handful of his ass, causing a hint of a smile to ghost over his face.

after the shower you dry his hair for him, bring him clean pajamas — stealing one of his shirts as your own pajamas — and let him rest his head back on your chest when you crawl into bed.

he still hasn’t said a word, but you figure he will when he wants to. so until then, you just keep playing with his soft hair.

“d’you think i’m good at this?” he breaks the silence, feeling the movement of his words against your chest at his refusal to raise his head.

you’re shocked at the question, wondering where it came from. “at hockey? yeah, of course i do? you’re one of the best defensemen in the league, q, and you have the trophy to prove it,” you reference the james norris somewhere in your shared apartment.

he shakes his head back and forth. “no, i mean the whole captain thing,” he clarifies. “just…feel like maybe it’s not for me anymore.”

you sit up straight, forcing quinn to sit up, too.

“excuse me?” your shocked tone echoes around the quiet room.

quinn just shrugs, not looking you in the eye.

“where’s this coming from?” you ask him, not understanding the sudden lack of confidence.

he still won’t look you in the eyes, his tell-tale sign of being anxious. “i don’t know i mean, i let them down by getting ejected in the first period, and then they get out there in the second and thrive without me,” he says earnestly, sounding so defeated that your heart breaks.

“oh q…” you wrap him in a hug. “quinn you didn’t let anyone down, you hear me?” you grip his face in your hands, ensuring he hears you and pays attention to your words. “they thrived without you because they didn’t want to let you down. they wanted to show you that all of the guidance and wisdom you’ve given them has paid off,” you reassure him, watching his eyes change from sadness to recognition.

“i think the fact that your team can hold their own on the ice, even without their captain, is the sign of a great captain, not a shitty one,” you continue, trying to ensure he never doubts himself like this again. “so, yeah, i think you’re good at this. you just…had a bad night.”

his eyes have shifted full to nothing but love now, knowing that you’ve always been the only one that can get through to him when he gets like this. you lean in and press a small kiss to the tip of his nose, watching him scrunch it after the action.

he clears his throat, sitting back so he can talk. “have i ever told you i couldn’t do this without you?” he blurts out, causing your cheeks to flush. it’s your turn to look away from him.

“i’m being serious. you’re the only person who can snap me out of hockey world for a few minutes, good or bad,” he continues. “just needed to hear all this from you, i guess.”

your heart swells knowing you’re the sole person he wants to reassure him.

“well, i’ll tell you whatever words you want or need to hear, always,” you run your hands through his hair once again, simply because you can. “but right now, i’m telling you the words ‘i’m sleepy and want bedtime cuddles.’”

he laughs at you, knowing how much you love being the little spoon, and he basically just deprived you of it for hours.

“whatever you say, my personal motivational speaker,” he earns an eye roll, but lays his body back down and opens his arms up for you to crawl into.

[dissapointu]

Arcane characters throwing a birthday party for the reader who has a bad memory and forgot his own birthday 😝

((my memory is rubbish, I can forget things I'm going to say/do In the same second , casual conversations, details and commitments 😔 planners are my best friends)

Happy birthday again 🥳

BABE. FIRST OF ALL.your faves would 1000000% throw you the most extra, heartfelt birthday party of all time because you deserve to feel loved and celebrated—memory or not.

So here’s how they’d handle it when you’re out here vibing, completely forgetting it’s your special day, and they’re like “Oh no, not on my watch.”

————————————————————————-

Jinx

Jinx is giving CHAOTIC ENERGY for this party. She’s not even subtle about it.

• You’d probably walk in and see her messing with some dangerous contraption, and she’d be like, “SURPRISE! You forgot your birthday, but I didn’t!”

• The party is WILD—explosions (small ones, probably), neon lights, spray-painted “HAPPY BIRTHDAY” signs, and cupcakes she may or may not have dropped at least once.

• She’s dragging you into every game and activity, yelling stuff like, “You don’t get to forget your own birthday, dummy! That’s what I’m here for!”

• By the end of the night, she’s probably passed out on the couch, holding a balloon, mumbling about how you’re “the best ever.”

Vi

Vi’s the type to keep it lowkey cool but still make it super special.

• She’d notice you forgot your own birthday and go, “Really? Guess I gotta take matters into my own hands.”

• She’d gather all your favorite people, decorate with some string lights and snacks, and surprise you like, “Told you I’d always have your back, didn’t I?”

• She’s keeping an eye on you all night, making sure you’re actually enjoying yourself and not overthinking anything.

• Before the night’s over, she’s pulling you aside for a quiet moment like, “Next time you forget your birthday, I’m just gonna tattoo it on your forehead.”

Sevika

Sevika pretends she doesn’t care, but she’s planning this whole thing in SECRET.

• She’s got a killer poker face, so when you’re like, “Wait, is today my birthday?” she’s just smirking like, “Guess you’ll find out.”

• The party is simple but PERFECT—her version of “lowkey” is making sure everything you love is there: your favorite food, drinks, and music.

• She acts all casual about it during the party, but at some point, she hands you a gift and says, “Don’t forget who made this happen.”

Silco

Silco would be so extra but act like it’s no big deal.

• He notices you forgot your birthday and immediately starts plotting. He’s like, “How does one forget their own existence? I’ll have to fix this.”

• The party is elegant AF—dim lighting, fancy food, and everything planned down to the smallest detail.

• He���s not a big “party” guy, but he’d be there in the corner, sipping his drink, watching you enjoy yourself, and thinking, “Yes, this is satisfactory.”

• At the end of the night, he’d come over and say something soft like, “Don’t forget your worth. I won’t.”

Vander

Vander would be the dad friend who makes your birthday feel like home.

• He’d figure out you forgot and immediately start pulling everyone together to plan something. He’s like, “We can’t let them go another year without feeling special.”

• The party would be warm and cozy—lots of laughter, good food, and a cake he baked himself (even if it’s a little lopsided).

• He’d give you a big hug at some point and say, “You’ve got a lot of people who care about you, even if you forget sometimes.”

• It’s the kind of party that leaves you feeling like you belong.

Ekko

Ekko would turn your forgotten birthday into an unforgettable NIGHT.

• He’d act all chill about it but secretly plan the coolest party ever. Firelight lanterns? Check. Music and dancing? Check. The BEST vibes? Double check.

• When you’re like, “Wait, is this for my birthday?” he’d laugh and say, “Yeah, you kinda forgot, but don’t worry—I didn’t.”

• He’d spend the whole night hyping you up, making sure you know how important you are to him and everyone else.

• By the end of the night, he’s handing you a handmade gift like, “Something to help you remember next time.”

Jayce

Jayce is going ALL OUT. No chill whatsoever.

• He’d throw a huge surprise party, complete with decorations, balloons, and probably a cake with your face on it. “You forgot your birthday? Not on my watch!”

• He’d spend the entire night making sure you’re having fun, constantly checking in like, “You good? Need anything?”

• He’d make a toast at some point, hyping you up in front of everyone. “To the best person I know. Happy birthday, even if you forgot it!”

• You’d leave feeling like the most important person in the world.

Viktor

Viktor would make your birthday feel quietly magical.

• He’d notice you forgot and gently remind you by planning a thoughtful little surprise. “I didn’t forget, so you don’t have to.”

• The party would be small and intimate, with everything tailored to your preferences. Soft lighting, good conversation, and maybe even a little tinkering if you’re into it.

• He’d give you a heartfelt gift, saying something like, “I know your memory gets the best of you, but you’re unforgettable to me.”

Caitlyn

Caitlyn would be the QUEEN of thoughtful birthday surprises.

• She’d find out you forgot your birthday and immediately start planning something sweet and meaningful.

• The party would be elegant but not over-the-top—just enough to make you feel special. She’d definitely include all your favorite things.

• At some point, she’d pull you aside and say, “You might forget your birthday, but I’ll always remember. You’re worth celebrating.”

Mel Medarda

Mel would throw the most glamorous birthday party you’ve ever seen.

• She’d notice you forgot and smile to herself like, “Looks like I’ll have to step in.”

• The party would be GORGEOUS—fancy decor, delicious food, and a vibe that screams “luxury.”

• She’d take a moment to toast to you, saying something poetic like, “To the person who deserves more than they remember to ask for.”

Ambessa Medarda

Ambessa would be direct but thoughtful.

• When she realizes you forgot your birthday, she’d be like, “How do you forget something like that? Never mind—I’ve got it handled.”

• The party would be practical but deeply meaningful—everything chosen with care to make sure you feel appreciated.

• She’d tell you at the end, “Don’t let yourself forget how much you mean to the people around you. We won’t let you.”

Heimerdinger

Heimerdinger would LOVE throwing you a surprise birthday party.

• He’d go all out with quirky decorations, fun activities, and maybe even a little invention to commemorate the day.

• “Ah, you forgot your birthday? No worries—I remembered for you!”

• The whole night would be filled with laughter and warmth, and he’d make sure you know just how much you’re appreciated.

Salo

Salo would be quiet but so sincere.

• He’d notice you forgot your birthday and take it upon himself to plan a small but meaningful celebration.

• The party would be simple but full of heart—just the right mix of people, good food, and a little reminder of how much you’re loved.

Scar

Scar would be CHAOTICALLY AMAZING.

• He’d be the one yelling, “YOU FORGOT YOUR BIRTHDAY? HOW???” while running around setting up decorations.

• The party would be loud, fun, and full of energy. He’d make sure you’re smiling the entire time, yelling stuff like, “This is YOUR day! Own it!”

Maddie Nolen

Maddie would be super sweet and thoughtful.

• She’d notice you forgot your birthday and plan something small but so full of love.

• She’d quietly make sure you’re comfortable and enjoying yourself, saying, “You might forget things sometimes, but I’ll never forget how special you are.”

Lest

Lest would be so kind and gentle about it.

• She’d realize you forgot and immediately start planning a little surprise to make you smile.

• The party would feel magical, like a fairytale, with every detail chosen just for you.

• She’d tell you at some point, “Even if your memory fails you, you have me to remind you.”

[daisymbin]

Hey can i request one where the reader sends Joshua flowers every week when he’s having practice/rehearsals and he asks her

37. "you brought me flowers? just because?" 🥹

omg this is so cute 🥺

request your own: full prompt list!

check out my masterlist! // shua's m.list

fluff prompt #37: "you brought me flowers? just because?"

the flowers always came at the same time every week for the past 4 months. like clockwork, they arrived at 11am, brightening the practice room with their soft colors and subtle fragrances.

and every week, joshua’s face lit up as he accepted the bouquet, placing it gently on the counter. he never questioned who sent them—he didn’t want to ruin the magic of it. all he knew was that those flowers had become a highlight of his week, a small moment of beauty in the chaos of rehearsals.

but today, there was no delivery.

the clock ticked past 11, and no knock came at the door.

joshua tried not to show his disappointment, but jeonghan noticed immediately.

“no flowers today?” jeonghan asked, his tone half-teasing, half-curious.

joshua shrugged, fiddling with his water bottle. “i guess not.”

jeonghan smirked. “don’t look so sad, shua. maybe your admirer finally gave up.”

“they’re not my admirer,” joshua muttered, though his chest tightened at the thought.

by 12:30pm, he’d resigned himself to the fact that the flowers weren’t coming. maybe this little tradition had ended without warning. maybe he’d never know why it had started in the first place, or who sent them.

but then the door creaked open timidly at 12:42pm,

you stepped inside, a bouquet of daisies and lavender in your hands as well as some take out bags and joshua freezes.

“y/n?” he said, blinking in disbelief. “what are you doing here?”

“sorry i’m late,” you said, offering an apologetic smile. “the florist didn’t have any delivery slots this week, so… i figured i’d bring them myself. oh! and lunch! you guys haven't eaten right?"

jeonghan raised an eyebrow, watching the scene unfold like it was his favorite drama. he notes the way you're nervous, your hands slightly trembling. the mask of nonchalance on your face did little to hide it all.

joshua stood up, slowly making his way toward you. “you’re the one who’s been sending me flowers?”

you nodded, holding out the bouquet. “guilty.”

he took them from you carefully, as if they might disappear if he wasn’t gentle enough. “you’ve been doing this every week?”

“yeah,” you said, shifting on your feet. “i thought you might like them.”

he stared at you, his expression unreadable. “but… why?”

you hesitated, suddenly feeling very self-conscious under his gaze. “just because.”

his lips parted slightly, his eyes searching yours. “you brought me flowers? just because?”

“yeah,” you said quietly, your cheeks warming. “just because. and… because they make you happy.”

for a moment, the room was completely silent.

then jeonghan let out a low whistle, breaking the spell. “wow. who would've thought…”

joshua barely heard him. he was too busy staring at you, his heart racing in a way he couldn’t quite explain.

“thank you,” he said softly, his voice almost trembling.

you smiled, trying to play it off like your heart wasn’t doing flips in your chest. “it’s no big deal.”

“it is to me,” he said, his gaze never leaving yours.

jeonghan cleared his throat loudly, "so... lunch you said?" and you took that as your cue to leave.

“oh! yes, lunch. here," you laid the take out bags down, "well, i should go, dont wanna intrude,” you said, stepping back toward the door. “i’ll see you later, joshua.”

he watched you leave, the bouquet still clutched in his hands, as if he wasn’t sure what to do with himself.

as soon as the door closed behind you, jeonghan turned to him with a raised eyebrow. “so… are the flowers enough confirmation for you to finally confess, or do you need her to spell it out in neon lights?”

joshua blinked, his mind still replaying your shy smile and the way your voice softened when you said, “just because.”

“she doesn’t…” he started, then trailed off.

jeonghan rolled his eyes. “oh, please. she sends you flowers every week, and today she personally brought them because she wanted to make sure you still got them. & LUNCH! if that’s not a big neon sign saying ‘i like you,’ i don’t know what is.”

“but what if—”

“nope,” jeonghan cut him off. “no what-ifs. no overthinking. she likes you, shua. it’s obvious.”

joshua glanced down at the bouquet in his hands, his heart swelling with something warm and hopeful.

maybe… maybe jeonghan was right.

maybe it was time to stop waiting.

[sirenpearldust]

Cherry

Pair: Gojo Satoru x reader

Word count: 2.443

Warnings: suggestive, reader is a dancer, stage name is cherry

The warm air enveloped him the moment he stepped inside, a stark contrast to the biting cold outside. 

He brushed the snow from his white hair with a quick motion, then shrugged off his black jacket, letting it hang heavily in his big hands.

The bar was sparsely occupied, the low murmur of business chatter filling the air. 

In a shadowed corner sat Sukuna with Choso. The two were deep in conversation, their heads inclined toward each other as they shared a drink and pointed on some papers. 

The establishment exuded an air of exclusivity and lavishness, clearly designed for the elite, like him. 

Black and gold accents dominated the space, from the sleek, polished surfaces to the intricate embellishments on the walls, radiating a sense of power and wealth.

He approached the bartender and ordered a Cherry Coke on ice, specifying exactly two ice cubes. 

The order carried a hidden message. It was his way of asking for her, Cherry, alone, for the next two hours. 

The bartender acknowledged the request with a subtle nod.

Gojo was utterly infatuated with Cherry, he could not be with any other women sin ce he had met her.His infatuation with her was undeniable, an obsession that had consumed him. 

 It was like she had enchanted him.

The bartender handed him his drink without a word, their silent understanding as familiar as the routine itself. 

Drink in hand, he followed the same path he took every Thursday, winding through the dimly lit corridors to see her - the one he couldn’t stay away from.

He took a slow sip of the coke, its sweetness a perfect mirror of her essence, a taste so familiar it felt like she lingered on his lips. 

Night after night, she haunted his dreams, she was someone he could never claim as his own. It wasn’t for lack of trying - he had pursued her relentlessly, but she remained just out of reach, a bittersweet longing.

He didn’t know her real name, nor had he ever seen her face. It was always concealed beneath a soft face cloth she used to keep her features hidden. The mystery only deepened his infatuation. 

Her anonymity was intoxicating.

The distance between them was unconquerable, and he knew, deep down, that she was never meant to be his. Yet, that knowledge did nothing to quell the fire in his heart - it only lit a flame with hopeless yearning.

In front of her door, dark red velvet curtains hung, their rich color contrasting against the gold pearl strings that framed the entrance. 

Upon entering the room, sultry music washed over him, its soft rhythm tugging at his senses. 

The room was dim, bathed in soft, muted red light, with the familiar scent of her prada paradoxe perfume lingering in the air. 

His eyes immediately found her, hanging on her pole. She hung there like a vision, her figure shrouded in a flowing black cloth.

He watched her for a while, the way she twisted and turned, the way her body moved so elegantly, fluid like water, she made it all seem so effortlessly.

After another graceful spin, her eyes met his - icy blue and piercing ones.

She held his gaze as she slid down the pole, the intensity between them palpable. 

Sweat glistened on her glitter shimmering skin, a single bead trailing down her neck before she wiped it away with the back of her hand. 

Her eyes smiled at him, teasing and knowing.

His eyes followed her like a predator, ready to pounce, his desire radiating from him like heat.

He settled himself on the plush velvet sofa, its softness enveloping him as he leaned back, swirling the drink lazily in his hand, before he took another sip. 

Just like the room, her body was adorned with lavishness.

Gold jewelry draped elegantly from her neck, down her chest around her waist, cascading down to accentuate her figure. 

Her shoes shimmered and the delicate bracelets on her wrists chimed softly with each step she took, their sound a hypnotic rhythm. 

Everything about this moment was expensive, the hours he had to pay for just to be near her. But to him, she was worth it - every second, every cost.

She walked towards him slowly before settling onto his lap, her body pressed against his with a warmth that sent a shiver through him. 

She slung her arms around his shoulders, her fingers tracing down his hard chest. 

He inhaled deeply, her scent intoxicating, and with a subtle nudge, his lips brushed against her neck as she shuddered.

She whispered softly against his lips, “Hello, love”.

“Hi.” 

He leaned back further, pulling her gently into his body, his hands finding her round hips as he caressed the soft, warm skin beneath his fingertips.

Her hands drifted from his chest, gliding up to his shoulders, where she began to massage them with a slow, deliberate pressure. As her fingers worked their magic, he couldn’t help but groan in relief, the tension melting away under her touch.

He tensed slightly, as if a thought had just crossed his mind. Then, with a soft whine, he murmured, “Why do you only work on Thursdays?” 

The question had been nagging at him for a while.

“Work and University,” she replied simply.

“You know I can take care of you.”

“Satoru, we’ve talked about this,” she said, her tone soft but firm. 

“Let me take care of you. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to like sexually, but please, just let me see you more than once a week.”

“Satoru,” she whispered, her fingers gently playing with his hair.

“I can’t,” she continued, her voice barely above a whisper. Silence followed for a few seconds before he spoke again.

“Are you actually allowed to keep the tips I give you?” he asked, his voice soft but insistent as his hands wandered down her back. She looked away, her body slightly tensed, as if the question had struck a nerve. 

Her silence spoke volumes.

“Look at me, please,” he murmured, his hand gently cupping her chin, guiding her face to meet his. As their eyes locked, there was a silent intensity between them, the air thick with unspoken emotions.

“I’m not allowed to keep everything,” she sighed in frustration, her eyes lowering as she spoke. “I still have to give them a cut.”

His lip darted out, licking his lips as his jaw clenched.

Then, a smile twisted on his face - one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. 

His baby blue eyes darkened, the playful glint replaced by something more intense, a silent promise that hinted at something far more dangerous beneath the surface.

“I’ll take care of that,” he said, his voice low and steady. 

“I gave you my number for a reason, text me when something like this happens again,” his tone left no room for argument.

“Satoru, they’ll fire me if you complain,” she said, her voice tinged with slight anger.

 “I might make them money, but I’m not one of their most precious dancers.” 

He grinned, the edge in his smile sharp and confident as he spoke. “So, you do have a reason to let me take care of you, then.” 

His words both a statement and a challenge, his gaze intense as he leaned in, making it clear he wasn’t just offering help - he was taking control of the situation. 

He liked seeing her in need of help, his damsel in distress.

She tried to pull away from him, but his grip on her hips tightened, pressing her firmly against him. His hold was gentle yet firm, his eyes locking onto hers with an intensity that made it impossible to look away. 

“Don’t,” he murmured, his voice low and commanding, the warmth of his touch sending shivers down her spine.

“I need this job and the money. I like you, but don’t make me regret that now.”

Her eyes held his, steady and resolute.

He liked the way she looked when she was angry at him - a different expression than he was used to. Even though her face was mostly hidden by the face cloth, he could see it in her eyes, the fiery defiance that stood in stark contrast to her usual sensual or kind demeanor.

It was a side of her he rarely saw, and it intrigued him, he wanted more.

“How much do you need?” he asked, his tone calm but direct.

“What?” she replied, caught off guard by the sudden question.

“I asked,” he repeated, his baby-blue eyes fixed on hers, “ how much do you need.”

“None of your business, Gojo,” she bit out, her tone sharp and laced with frustration. She was already fed up with the entire situation, her patience wearing thin.

He chuckled softly, the sound low and teasing. 

“So, it’s Gojo now?” he asked, his hands wandered down her body, gripping her with a firm possessiveness before he pushed her gently, guiding her movements with a mix of control and desire.

She stopped him with a firm hand on his chest, pushing lightly as she met his gaze. 

“Stop,” she said, her voice steady and strong.

He released his grip, letting his hands fall next to their bodies. 

“Do you hate me, or is it just this?”

“Both,” she replied, her voice steady but laced with frustration. 

“You don’t respect me, and you use me.” Her words were sharp, cutting through the tension between them as she made her feelings clear, her gaze unwavering as she stood her ground.

“I’m not a toy, Gojo,” she said firmly, her voice cold but filled with conviction. She looked at him, her eyes not backing down, making it clear that she would not be treated as something less than human.

“While it is my job to entertain you, you’ve crossed multiple lines,” she continued, her voice steady but sharp. The weight of her words lingered in the air, a clear boundary being set as she faced him, unflinching.

“Why do you not accept my help?” he asked, his voice a mixture of confusion and frustration.

She closed her eyes in frustration, letting out a soft sigh. She needed to take control of the situation.

“Satoru,” she whispered, leaning forward while.

 “It’s not about that. I just like dancing.” She softly placed her hand over his eyes, closing them. 

He trusted her completely, his breath steady as he heard the soft rustling around them. 

Then, he felt her lips against his cheek, warm and gentle, followed by the delicate tickle of her hair against his skin.

His breath hitched as her kisses slowly drifted downward, pressing softly against his neck. Each gentle touch sent a shiver through him, the warmth of her lips against his skin making his pulse quicken. 

His hands rose next to her body, hovering but not touching. He whimpered, his voice shaky, “Can I please hold you?”

She nodded, giving him permission. His hands stayed gently on her waist, hesitant, as if afraid he might do something wrong again.

”I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice thick with regret. 

“I shouldn’t have pushed you. I swear I respect you, I just want to help you and get to know you for real.” 

His voice filled with genuine remorse, as if the weight of his actions was finally sinking in.

He was afraid, worried that he had pushed her too far when she got angry. While he liked the way she ordered him around, there was a part of him that still wanted her to talk to him, to open up. 

He feared she might not want to see him again. All he wanted was to make things right between them.

”Shh,” she whispered against his lips, her breath warm. He hesitated for a moment before he chased her lips, their kiss deepening as they moved together.

She moaned softly, and in an instant, he took her, laying her down on the couch. His body positioned between her legs, the weight of him just enough to keep her close, as her hand rested lightly on his eyes, a gesture of both his trust and surrender.

”Cherry, please,” he whispered, his voice thick with desperation. He didn’t know exactly what he was begging for, but the need for her was too much.

She stopped kissing him, her left hand gently resting on his chest as she pulled away slightly. 

“Satoru, we can’t go any further, I also need to cover my face before they might notice.” There was a sense of urgency in her voice, mixed with regret, as she reminded him and herself of the boundaries they had to maintain. She liked his lips on hers, the way he begged and yearned for her. It made her feel special, wanted.

He nodded, breathless, his voice low. “I’ll close my eyes. I won’t look, I promise.”

She laughed softly, knowing full well that he definitely would. He chuckled along with her, his flush red lips stretched into a smile.

There was a soft rustle before she removed her hand from his eyes. He opened them slowly, his gaze meeting hers. Her face was covered again, but even so, she looked so beautiful beneath him.

He plopped onto her, and she let out a frustrated huff before smacking him upside the head. “I told you to stop doing that!” she scolded, her voice a mix of irritation and amusement.

He winced, rubbing his head as he whined, “Ow, that hurt!” He couldn’t help the pout that formed on his lips as he glanced up at her, hoping for a little sympathy. But he knew they’ve had the same argument every time he did that, there was no use.

 “Don’t look at me like it ain’t your fault,” she said, pulling a blanket over them both. “You’re huge and heavy.”

As he tried to protest, she reached up and tugged his ear, scolding him lightly. 

“I told you to stop.” 

“Cherry,” he said, feigning offense, “that’s abuse!”

“You act like you don’t like it, you masochist.”

She smirked, gently playing with his hair again, knowing it would lull him to sleep. 

His eyes fluttered slightly, a contented sigh escaping him as he relaxed under her touch.

“Sleep, Satoru, you’ve had a long day,” she murmured softly.

Before she knew it, he was lightly snoring, his arms holding her body tight, afraid she would disappear.

The steady rhythm of his heart against her was calming, and she couldn’t help but smile, feeling the his warm body against hers as he drifted off to sleep.

Kissing his head she also closed her eyes.

Main Taglist: @bubybubsters @lilah-asteria

[4only1]

Hiiii there!

So I don't know about your rules so if you uncomfortable it's okay!!! 😊

Can you write a story where shingen and reader are married but reader doesn't want to be married and just wants a life of her own. So she runs away not knowing she was pregnant and when she finds out, she decideds to keep the baby and gives birth to twins a boy and a girl. Awhile reader is happy, shingen has gone completely insane looking for her.

Every day some dies do to the fact they couldn't find reader. But shingen learns where reader is hiding and goes himself to get only to find out she has given birth to gun and his twin sister.

They rest can be up to you! 😊

Thank you! 😊

Fear and Loathing

Yamazaki Shingen x Reader Warning: Angst (I can't help myself) Masterlist ------------------------

It was all you felt for this lifestyle you had been forced into. Fear and loathing. Fear for the man you married, for the members of the clan who despised you enough to try and get rid of you. Loathing of the man you married, for the lifestyle forced upon you. 

Marriage was a silly thing to you. If it were actually your decision, you never would have married, let alone a man like Shingen Yamazaki. The man he once was had now become lethargic, empty, depressed. You didn’t like your married life before, and you certainly didn’t like it after his defeat. 

Once you were informed of the Yubitsume to take place, you couldn’t stay here any longer. It didn’t matter that you had supposedly sinned, you needed to leave. In the dead of night, you vanished. Nobody knew exactly how you left without so much as a trace, but it didn’t matter. What did, was the fact that Shingen was furious, with the other woman, with everyone who didn’t notice, but especially with you.

The bloodshed that followed was only contained once his brother, Shintaro, claimed they would find you. How he needed to put the clan first, and let them take care of finding you. Soon, one month passed, then two, then three, and as they did, Shingen became more restless. Where did you go, and what were you doing?

It was a taste of freedom unlike any other, one you had never known. You travelled far away, hidden within the depths of a small prefecture, no one knowing of who you truly were. You made a life for yourself, working at a small shop, supporting yourself, no longer constricted by the rules of the Yamazaki clan. Until you found out you were pregnant.

It wasn’t expected but not exactly surprising. You had been expected to give birth to the heir at some point, and it just had to be when you decided to run away. You decided to keep it, more trouble would come if you didn’t, and maybe if you delivered the heir, you could bargain for freedom for yourself. It was selfish, but you never asked for this life, and certainly not this child. 

As your pregnancy progressed, you became depressed at the fact of giving birth to the Yamazaki clan's heir. You couldn’t do this, this child would tie you to the clan forever, regret sank in. It hit even harder when you discovered it was twins.

Meanwhile, the Yamazaki clan was in shambles. Their leader had gone mad trying to find you, often taking his frustrations out on those around him. A trail of blood followed him, and it bleed for you. He was desperate as the months passed. He needed you, you didn’t have a choice, once he found you, you were never leaving his side again.

It was a week after you had given birth, over nine months since you ran away, that he appeared. Like you escaping through the night, his figure was a shadow, watching you, waiting. He was shocked to be greeted not only by you, but two infants as well. Exhaustion was obvious on your face, but it also held another emotion he couldn’t quite place.

“You’ve been hiding all this time, even after you discovered you were carrying my children. This game is over, it is time to return.”

He was blunt with his words, as always. He expected immediate action from you, instead, you remained seated, looking at him, that same indescribable emotion on your face. 

“I don’t think that will happen. I have served my duties as the wife by giving birth to the heir of the clan. You don’t need me anymore, and I don’t need you.”

“You don’t get a choice, you are to return and continue to be my wife”

A long pause followed. He wouldn't take no for an answer. Until...

“I’m so tired”

Your broken voice spoke. Broken things can be fixed, Shingen thought. But something stopped him, you stopped him. The two infants laying in their cots caused him to pause, if he had you, you would break further, maybe even die.

If you love something, you’ll let it go, and he might just have to do that. You were broken, and he couldn’t fix you, even if he lived in ignorance to your condition, forcing you back into the clan, by his side, it would forever plague him. 

The thought of knowing you were alive was better than keeping you by his side, forever spiraling until you faded away. He couldn’t leave without something though. 

“I will take my son with me, the daughter shows no promise for anything special, she will remain with you.”

You offered no argument as he took the child, as he was leaving you offered on final remark.

“His name is Jonggun, but please, give him a proper name. And let us forget we ever met.”

He would never know what happened to you or the daughter, and although he had your son, it was too painful to look at him. He avoided the son, again falling into a deep depression. It wasn’t until he was dying protecting the child he had taken from you, that he finally understood.

It finally clicked what that look on your face was. He hadn’t seen it since you first left, nobody having the nerve to show it in front of him. It was normally mixed with another emotion as well, but this time, it stood alone, by itself.

It was loathing.

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

I can't help myself, I love writing unhappy stories. I like to try and make the prompts possible in the storyline, it's just more enjoyable for me. Careful when you say, the rest is up to you, because I will turn it into an angsty story. TBH I originally was gonna make reader die, but couldn't make it work.

All my Shingen stories have the common theme of reader dying or running away, just how I like it.

[seecarrun]

It was snowing in Pallet on Christmas Eve, because of course it was.

Pallet Town, the perfect little romantic backdrop to Misty’s entirely unromantic holiday season, was being lovingly dusted in a fluffy blanket of white while the Christmas lights glowed warmly in the windows and the log crackled in the fire, while Misty was bundled up in a warm sweater, drinking hot chocolate, and smelling Mrs. Ketchum’s famous sugar cookies baking in the oven, just as painfully single as she had always been.

Bah-humbug.

“Any progress?” Brock asked, his reflection looking amused and—ugh, pitying, in the window.

“Does it look like there’s been any progress?” she snapped, probably a bit too harshly, in response, but Brock knew her well enough after all these years to not take offense, and plopped himself down next to her.

“It looks like Ash is outside having fun with his pokemon in the snow, and you are inside sulking about it.”

Misty glared at the scene outside, Ash laughing jovially as Pikachu and Bayleef teamed up with Gengar and Snivy to pelt him with snowballs. It was adorable. “I’m just watching in case he slips on some ice and falls on his ass,” she told him dryly. “Figured that might cheer me up.”

Brock snorted, but threw a comforting arm around her shoulders. He was warm and safe and she allowed herself to lean against him. “He’ll come around someday,” he said, trying to seem optimistic.

Misty had been telling herself that Ash would ‘come around’ for years. Every Christmas, every failed attempt to get him under the mistletoe, or give him a heartfelt present, or brush her pinky against his hand while hanging ornaments, all led to exactly this: Misty, alone, admiring Ash from afar.

Psyduck, all bundled up in a hat and scarf and little webbed foot-shaped booties Daisy had gotten for him after the time he managed to lock himself out of the gym in the dead of winter like the dense little duck he was, had waddled outside to join the party, Pikachu welcoming him with what looked like a very enthusiastic “Pika!”

Ash beamed at him as well, seeming to greet him excitedly, and then immediately looked around hopefully, like he expected someone else to be out there with him.

Next to her, Brock smirked and nudged her with his elbow. “I think he’s looking for you.”

“Oh please,” Misty sniffed. “He’s probably just wondering how Psyduck got outside.” Which was a good question, actually. Delia probably let him out, or at least that was what she was going to tell herself.

Ash frowned, turning back to Psyduck and asking him something. In response, Psyduck turned his head over to the window and pointed one of his pudgy little wings, directing Ash’s attention over to her and Brock in the window. A little, mischievous smirk began to take form on Ash’s lips, and he bent down to start gathering up some snow into his fist.

“What’s he up to?” Brock mused, just as a flying snow ball smashed into the window with a loud, dramatic ‘smack!’ scaring the ever-loving shit out of Misty, who yelped and nearly fell out of the chair, spilling her hot chocolate in the process. Back out in the yard, Ash was rolling with laughter.

“That asshole!” she cried, stomping over to the door and yanking her coat off the coatrack. She smashed her feet into her boots and threw open the door, pointing dramatically at Ash while simultaneously pulling on her mittens. “You think you’re funny, Ketchum?!” she yelled, marching out the door and slamming it behind her.

The slam of the door knocked the snowball stuck on the window back to the ground, just in time to see Misty pelting Ash relentlessly with snow, as he laughed and threw snow right back, looking as if all his wishes had come true.

Brock smiled. It was looking like Misty was making more progress than she realized.

Good for them.

[etherealeowyn]

Falling Snow - Elrond (Rings of Power) x Fem Reader

Y/n is beyond excited for the first snowfall of the season, and she takes Elrond to see her favorite secret spot in the forest.

Pure Fluff

Word Count: 949

My requests are always open, so feel free to message me if you have an idea! I'll write for any character from The Lord of the Rings, The Hobbit, or The Rings of Power!

Rolling over onto her side, Y/n glanced out the window, her eyes widening in joy when she noticed small white snowflakes falling from the sky. Upon seeing this, she immediately turned back over and looked at Elrond whose eyes were still shut, sleeping peacefully.

She softly kissed his forehead before whispering, “Elrond, my love, it’s the first snowfall!”

Her voice got slightly louder at the end, unable to mask the growing excitement within her.

Y/n watched Elrond’s eyes flutter open, a small smile almost instantaneously adorning his features.

“Is that so?” he asked, his morning voice breaking through the silence of the bedroom.

“Indeed! We must get up and experience it, it’s practically my favorite day of the year!” she giggled, sitting up and pushing the covers off herself.

Elrond smirked, almost laughing before he too pushed the covers off himself. He sat there observing Y/n as she walked over to the closet and pulled out one of the gowns Elrond had bought her for when the snow began to fall.

“Today’s the perfect day to wear this, I still can’t believe how lucky I am to love an individual such as yourself,” Y/n spoke, walking behind the dressing screen in the corner of the room to change.

“For the thousandth time darling, I’m the lucky one,” Elrond laughed, as he got out of bed to get changed.

Elrond couldn’t see it, but Y/n’s face had become overtaken by a rosy blush and a wide smile, as complete and utter happiness washed over her.

It didn’t take long for the pair to get ready, and before Y/n even knew it, she and Elrond were walking hand in hand, their feet crunching the small layer of snow beneath them. Y/n inhaled deeply, enjoying the scent of the fresh and crisp morning air. Reaching her free hand out, she delicately let snowflakes land on her skin, her keen eyes examining the varying uniqueness of the small particles.

Though Elrond enjoyed the snow, the reason for his enjoyment differed from hers. He enjoyed watching her face light up the second the sky opened and dropped intricate icy specks, and even more so, he was infatuated with how Y/n appeared when the sun reflected off the ice and shone upon her gorgeous skin.

“I wish to show you something,” Y/n said, turning her head and looking up at Elrond with a smirk, “Though I must warn you, it does take a little walking to get there.”

“Darling, I will follow you anywhere, simply lead the way,” he responded, and she eagerly began to walk through the forest, following a path that hardly could be seen after the snow had fallen.

However, it didn’t appear like she needed to see the path, since it seemed she knew the area like the back of her hand. Curiosity was growing within Elrond, wondering where she could be taking him. He figured he knew every one of the secret locations Y/n would go to clear her mind and spend time surrounded by nature, but apparently, he was wrong.

After a while, Y/n stopped, and Elrond stood there taking in the view around him. They had ventured so far into the forest that he was certain that not a single soul was even relatively close to them. He found that appealing, loving the feeling of not worrying about eyes falling upon him.

“Wait, and look,” Y/n spoke, and after the last word fell from her mouth, Elrond's jaw dropped, watching the white snow that covered the trees and ground turn a soft pink color as the morning sun hit them.

Y/n laughed slightly at his expression, proud to have found a place so pleasing to the eyes that even Elrond was in awe. Complete, genuine awe.

“This is stunning,” Elrond replied softly, almost scared to disturb the environment with his voice, “I’ve never seen anything like it before.”

“I hadn’t either, but one day I decided to venture out to find the perfect place to write, and I discovered this spot. Initially, I thought this place could be my secret, but then I realized that I couldn’t possibly keep it all to myself. I realized it could be ours.” Y/n told Elrond, and joy immediately was present in his features.

He was speechless, completely and utterly speechless. He never could predict just how large Y/n’s heart was, for every day she did something that would blow him away. Often, he felt like he was dreaming when he was spending time with her because, with all the darkness that occupied Middle Earth, she was the embodiment of light. Elrond swore to himself that Y/n had made it her mission, whether aware of it or not, to make every day of his better than the last.

Elrond took a couple of steps closer to Y/n, not saying a single word before he raised his hands and gently cradled her face. He leaned in, pressing an all-consuming kiss on her lips, that said more than words ever could. Even as a poet, Elrond knew that sometimes nonverbal actions proved to be the best means to convey how he felt.

Even though it was cold outside, his lips were warm against hers, without breaking contact, his hands moved from her face to her waist, waiting only a moment before he began to move forward until her back was flush against one of the tall pine trees.

“Elrond, you’re making me like this spot even more,” Y/n spoke, running her fingers through the elf’s hair, sending him a sweet smile.

He let out a bit of a chuckle before leaning back in again, thanking her in the most meaningful way he could imagine.

[overlyobsessed223]

wrote a quick halbarry drabble to try and ease myself back into writing, thought i'd throw it up onto here. with this i can cross the "only one bed" trope off my ever shrinking list of cliches i've never done before

---

“What are you doing?”

Barry blinks in confusion, pausing in his efforts to make up the couch and turning his head in the direction of Hal’s voice. The hotel room is dark, all the lamps turned off and the drapes drawn shut, meaning he can only barely see the vague outline of Hal’s form on the bed. The one, singular bed they were given instead of the two beds Bruce had promised he’d reserved for them. Upon entering the room and realizing they’d only been given the one bed, Hal had been immediately convinced that Bruce had lied just to be an asshole, while Barry had been more inclined to believe the apologetic hotel manager when she’d told them she was so, so sorry, but there was an error in the booking system and, unfortunately, there were no more double rooms available for the night. 

Having already been worn down from the day’s Justice League mission, Barry hadn’t felt much other than faint resignation regarding the bed situation. He let Hal grab a shower first, and when Hal sauntered over to the large, king-sized bed and flopped onto it face-first with a pained groan, Barry figured it was only fair to let him have the bed. After all, Hal’s bruises and sore muscles surely won’t fare well sleeping on the stiff and lumpy couch cushions, and it might make for a rough night of rest for Barry but at least his fully healed body will be able to handle it better. 

“I’m… getting ready for bed?” Barry responds, glancing back down at the half-prepared couch, trying to figure out what he’d missed and coming up empty. 

“Yeah, but why are you over on the couch?” Hal sounds just as confused as Barry feels. “Why don’t you just sleep in the bed?”

“Uh, because you’re already in it,” Barry points out. Shouldn’t that be obvious?

“So?” Through the darkness, Barry sees Hal prop himself onto his elbows and hears him pat the empty side of the bed. “This is literally the biggest bed I’ve ever seen. There’s more than enough room for both of us.”

It finally dawns on Barry, then, that Hal means they should both sleep in the bed. Together. Barry swallows, his mouth suddenly having gone dry. 

“Oh, um, I don’t think,” Barry frowns, nervously rubbing at the back of his neck. He’s been Hal’s friend for many years at this point, but they’ve never shared the same bed before. Barry’s always been under the impression that that would be weird and in violation of some kind of friendship boundary. Not that he’s spent much time thinking about sharing a bed with Hal in the first place. Honest. “I’m fine with just taking the couch, Hal. Really, I am.”

Even in the near pitch blackness, Barry can still feel Hal’s stare boring into him.

“Barry, you’re not sleeping over on that shitty ass couch over a perfectly fine bed, that’s just stupid,” Hal says. Barry can practically hear the eye roll in his voice. Sighing exasperatingly, Hal cuts off the protest that’s currently loaded up on Barry’s tongue, “would you just come get into bed so we can both get the fuck to sleep? Seriously, Bar, this doesn’t have to be anything more than that.”

“Okay,” Barry acquiesces against his better judgment, shuffling over to the bed. He awkwardly slides under the covers, and admittedly, the mattress feels worlds better on his spine and neck than the couch. Pulling the covers up to his chin, he lies there stiff as a board, staring up at the ceiling and listening to the sounds of the city outside and Hal’s breathing. 

“You can relax, man,” Hal huffs with laughter after a minute. “Don’t worry, I swear I’ll keep my hands to myself. I won’t cuddle up to you in the middle of the night or anything. I mean, not unless you want me to.”

Barry lets out a soft snort, feeling himself start to unwind and relax. It’s just Hal, he reminds himself, his best and most trusted friend Hal. There’s no reason for him to feel weird, or self-conscious about this. Really, the situation is only as awkward as they decide to make it, and clearly, Hal has already decided he’s not bothered. Maybe Barry shouldn’t be, either. 

“I wouldn’t mind,” Barry blurts out without thinking. He instantly regrets saying it, his eyes growing wide and his face heating up instantly. “I—I mean, uh—”

“Yeah?” Hal questions suggestively, and Barry can imagine him quirking his brow, wearing the beginnings of a cheeky grin. 

Barry lets out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. 

“Yeah,” Barry says, busying himself with playing with the edges of the blanket. 

“Alright,” Hal hums thoughtfully. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

And when Barry wakes in the morning to Hal’s arm slung over him, face pressed into his shoulder, it feels just… normal. Completely and utterly normal. 

Oh, Barry thinks to himself. 

Oh. 

[peachhcs]

https://www.tumblr.com/peachhcs/767185748593164288/httpswwwtumblrcompeachhcs766739881092415488

i love this omg! i’m glad they are together maybe they need one more talking seriously to each other and samy is trying to tell him her fears and what she is scared of now it’s a much needed talk

i do love a side plot but this also does feel like it could easily be in the main plot to you know? whatever you want !

part 9!! sorry this took me longer to finish 🥲 let me know what else we want from this side plot!

au masterlist

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8

will found samy on the steps of back patio as the day drew into mid afternoon. they were watching a movie together and when the hockey player vaguely remembered dozing off from being somewhat jet lagged still. when he woke back up, samy wasn’t beside him like she was when he fell asleep and the tv that had the movie playing was running through a random tv show.

the girl’s back was to him, so she didn’t will at first and he didn’t didn’t say anything. he took those few seconds to admire her and the way her brown curls fell down her torso into frizzy little ends. to will, she looked so pretty like that. the sun was casting a perfect glow around her figure despite it being early october. god, he adored her so much.

will finally cleared his throat to grab her attention. she spun around, surprised, but happy to see him there.

“hi, didn’t know if you were gonna wake up,” the soccer player teased some as he joined her on the step and immediately reached her fingers up to brush his misplaced curls away.

“yeah, guess the jet lag got to me,” will admitted while returning her soft smile with one of his own.

“guess so. sleep well?” samy hummed, still toying with his hair.

“yeah, i slept fine. maybe i’ll get used to it by the time i leave again,” the couple shared a laugh. she eventually pulled her hand away warning a small grunt in response and will missing the way her fingers felt in his hair and on his skin.

“what are you doing out here?” he finally asked, his gaze following hers that diverted towards the hughes’ nearly five acre yard in front of them. in every space and corner, will could picture a memory that occurred there and the thoughts earned a bright smile on his features.

everything in michigan felt so nostalgic to him nowadays after finishing the ntdp. will spent primitive teenage years in this backyard and to think he was in the nhl now and they weren’t fifteen anymore.

“just thinking,” the brunette shrugged with her good shoulder.

“anything in particular?” will smiled, poking just a bit.

“not really, no.”

they exchanged a glance and maybe will was just in his head again, but he didn’t quite believe her. he knew when samy had something on her mind and didn’t say it and this was one of those times. she was being way to quiet for his liking because she’d always have 100 things to talk about no matter how stupid it was.

“you’re gonna say you don’t believe me, right?” samy beat him to it, a tiny smile on her lips because she also knew what her boyfriend was thinking. that was just how well they knew one another. will’s cheeks flushed a bit.

“uh, no. i wasn’t, but if there is something on your mind, you know you can talk to me right?” will offered because he wasn’t gonna over push it if samy really didn’t want to talk about anything.

“what if i said it’s about us?” her tone dropped and will could feel the seriousness washing over them.

he sucked in a breath, suddenly feeling the need to straighten himself up. “okay,” he waited for her to go on.

“i guess i’ve just been thinking more about..about why i didn’t call you..” the brunette began just as will shook his head.

“no, no you know you don’t have to keep apologizing about that. i get it. i do. i—“

“no, no, will, i should’ve called you. i don’t know why i didn’t. i..i guess i’ve just been..scared?” the girl’s voice became small and timid which wasn’t something will heard a lot from samy.

“scared? of what? me?” his heart twisted at that idea.

“no, no, god, no. i’d never be scared of you, don’t worry,” samy quickly clarified.

“then what is it? is it something i’m doing? not doing?” will was really determined to not fuck this all up again, so he’d literally do anything to make samy comfortable and meet her needs.

“no, it’s nothing you’re doing. i think it’s just my own insecurities,” she shook her head, but will wasn’t really following.

“what do you mean?”

“i think..i think i’m still a little bit affected from our breakup this summer. it might sound stupid but my insecurities have made me feel like i’m a burden to people and i’ll just be too much again. or not enough? i don’t really know,” samy dodged his glance by staring at the ground.

her words felt like an arrow straight into the hockey player’s heart that he didn’t even know how to respond. a pang of guilt washed over him and suddenly, he felt horrible that he fucked their entire relationship in the first place all because he thought he couldn’t do it.

a painful silence washed over them mixed with a bit of tension when will didn’t answer right away. samy bit at her lip, knowing she shouldn’t have brought it up in the first place.

“shit, i’m sorry. i shouldn’t have said anything. it’s stupid—“

“wait, no, no it’s not stupid. it’s not. don’t invalidate your feelings,” will finally found his words.

“i-i’m really sorry i’ve made you feel this way. i was being dumb and..fuck. you’re not a burden, samy. god, you could never be too much or a burden to me. i’d literally drop everything for you i mean, i did drop everything for you,” the boy continued, trying his best to reassure samy of any doubt in her mind.

he searched for her gaze and when she finally looked at him, will saw all of it in that single gaze. the hurt, the pain, the mistrust and it broke his heart into a million pieces that she still felt all of this.

will reached out slowly, a hesitation and a silent request that he could touch her face. when she didn’t refuse, will’s hands cupped her cheeks, bringing her so close that their noses were inches apart.

“i love you, samy. nothing will ever change that for me, i promise. you mean so much to me. i’m really sorry you felt like you couldn’t tell me you were hurt and i’m trying to do better. i wanna be better for you,” will admitted everything. he watched the girl’s gaze slowly soften out which he took as a good sign, especially when her forehead laid against his own.

“i love you, will. you mean a lot to me too. it’s just been a long journey to getting back together that i’m still working on. i’m really glad you’re here,” the two exchanged loving smiles and that’s when samy opened her mouth to kiss him. he took the hint fairly quickly, their lips connecting and closing the little space left.

“tell me what needs to happen to gain your full trust back and i’ll make it happen. i promise,” will said when they pulled apart.

samy smiled, “how about just spending all our time together until you have to leave again?”

“i like the sound of that,” will kissed the side of her head.

the couple stayed outside until it got too cold to be out there in just a sweatshirt. they cuddled back up on the couch together and for once, there was no anxiety about anything—just what they were eating for dinner and what movie they were gonna watch next.

[httpvomitello]

Shell of Trust *⁠.⁠✧

Mikey hummed to himself as he leaped from rooftop to rooftop, the city skyline a blur around him. Tonight felt good—a clear sky, no major threats, and most importantly, a chance to check in on you.

You’d been in his thoughts a lot lately. Sure, you were April’s best friend, but to Mikey, you were special. Your kindness drew him in like a moth to a flame, but he could also sense there was more to you. You laughed at his jokes and indulged his antics, yet you always kept a certain distance. He figured you just needed time to open up, but lately, he couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something you weren’t telling him.

So, naturally, Mikey decided tonight was the night to surprise you.

“Operation Surprise Visit,” he whispered to himself as he landed gracefully on your fire escape.

Peering into your apartment, he noticed the living room light was on. He pressed his face against the window, grinning—until he saw her.

A little girl sat on the couch, clutching a stuffed bear to her chest and watching cartoons. Mikey’s grin faltered.

“Wait… who’s that?” he muttered.

As if on cue, the girl turned toward the window and froze. Her wide eyes met Mikey’s bright blue ones, and her face scrunched up in panic.

“Mommy!” she screamed, scrambling off the couch. “There’s a monster outside!”

Mikey recoiled, his hands raised defensively. “Whoa, whoa, I’m not a monster! I’m a friendly turtle!”

Before he could explain further, the window flew open, and there you were, holding a frying pan.

"You bastard! You better stay away from my ho... Mikey?!

He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “Uh, hey. Didn’t mean to freak out the kid. I was just, you know, dropping by to say hi.”

Your eyes flicked toward the window where your daughter was peeking out cautiously, clutching her stuffed bear. You sighed, stepping outside and closing the window behind you.

“Mikey, what are you doing here?”

“I just wanted to see you!” he said, his tone cheerful but edged with confusion. “But, uh, you didn’t tell me you had a kid.”

You winced, your arms crossing defensively. “Yeah, well… it’s not exactly something I go around advertising.”

Mikey tilted his head, his usual lighthearted demeanor softening. “Why not? She looks adorable.”

Your lips twitched into a reluctant smile, but it quickly faded. “Because it’s complicated, Mikey. And it’s easier to just keep that part of my life private, people will judge me less.”

“Judgy people suck,” Mikey said immediately, his tone firm.

You blinked at him, startled by his bluntness.

“Seriously,” he continued, his blue eyes earnest. “If anyone’s giving you grief, they don’t know what they’re talking about. You’re awesome, and if she’s anything like you, then she’s awesome too.”

A lump formed in your throat at his words, and you looked away, blinking back tears. “It’s not just that, Mikey. Her dad… he left after I was three months pregnant. He didn’t want anything to do with us. Ever since then, it’s been just me and Dahlia, and… I didn’t want to risk you—or your brothers—treating us differently because of it.”

Mikey’s heart ached. “We’d never do that,” he said softly.

“You say that, but you don’t know what it’s like,” you whispered. “So I decided it was best to keep that part a secret, so she wouldn't get attached to someone and then that person... just leave.”

Mikey stepped closer, his tone gentle but firm. “Hey. I get that you’re trying to protect her, but you don’t have to protect her from me. I think you’re amazing, and I think Dahlia’s lucky to have you as her mom.”

Your breath hitched, and you finally looked at him. “You really mean that?”

“Totally,” he said, his smile returning. “And if you let me, I’d love to meet her. I’ll be on my best behavior—scout’s honor!” He held up three fingers in a mock salute.

You laughed softly, the tension in your shoulders easing. “She’s probably still freaked out, but… okay. Just give her a minute, and don’t take it personally if she’s a little shy.”

“Got it,” he said, giving you a thumbs-up.

When you opened the door, Mikey stepped inside cautiously, his movements uncharacteristically slow. Dahlia was still on the couch, clutching her bear and eyeing him warily.

“Hi there,” Mikey said gently, crouching down to her level. “I’m Mikey. I’m a friend of your mom’s.”

She didn’t say anything, her grip on the bear tightening.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” you said softly, sitting beside her. “Mikey’s really nice. Remember how I told you about Mommy’s awesome friends? He’s one of them.”

Dahlia glanced at you, then back at Mikey. “You’re orange.”

Mikey chuckled. “Yep, I’m one of a kind!”

Her lips twitched into a tiny smile. “Do you like bears?”

“I love bears!” he said enthusiastically. “Especially the cuddly kind.”

Dahlia hesitated, then held out her bear toward him. “This is Mr. Fluff. He’s my best friend.”

Mikey gasped dramatically, taking the bear carefully in his hands. “Mr. Fluff? That’s an awesome name. Nice to meet you, buddy!”

You watched the exchange, your heart swelling with warmth. Mikey’s natural charm had melted Dahlia’s initial fear, and for the first time in a long time, you felt a flicker of hope.

As the evening went on, Mikey made Dahlia laugh more times than you could count, and by the time she was nodding off, clutching Mr. Fluff, you knew you’d made the right choice letting him in.

Mikey looked at you as you tucked Dahlia into bed, his expression soft. “She’s amazing, just like her mom.”

You smiled, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. “Thank you, Mikey. You are amazing.”

“Always,” he said with a grin. “And, uh, if you ever need a babysitter, I’m your guy. I’m great with kids!”

You laughed, shaking your head. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

[graciegoeskrazy]

It was no use at all

(Matty Healy x Daughter!r)

Warnings: yelling, crying, breakups, angst, lowk just hurt/comfort???? Idk, reader is like pre teen ish, the ending is good at least so hm

A/n: I wrote this in two hours and I’m posting it now immediately after….idk what’s happening man

You were sitting cross-legged on the couch, a tattered math workbook spread out in front of you. The numbers on the page blurred together as you frowned, chewing the end of your pencil in frustration. When the front door creaked open, you looked up, relief flooding your face.

“Hi, Dad,” you called, watching Matty shuffle inside.

His response was a half-hearted hum as he kicked off his boots and tossed his keys into the bowl. He trudged into the living room, never meeting your eyes, collapsing into the armchair with a sigh. His fingers rubbed at his temples, and his whole posture screamed exhaustion.

“You okay?” you asked, your pencil hovering above the workbook.

“Yeah,” he muttered, his voice low and clipped. “Just tired.”

You studied him for a moment, noting the tight set of his jaw and the way his fingers trembled slightly as he ran them through his curls. Something was off, but you weren’t sure if you should press him about it.

Instead, you turned back to your workbook. “Can you help me with this?” you asked after a moment, holding up the page. “I don’t get it.”

He barely glanced at you before shaking his head. “Not now,” he said curtly.

“Please? I’ve been stuck on it for like an hour.”

He let out a sharp sigh, his hand dropping to his lap. “I said not now, alright?”

His tone made you flinch, but you tried again. “It’s just one problem-”

“For God’s sake, can’t you figure it out yourself?” he snapped, letting out a sigh after. “You’re not a little kid anymore!”

Your mouth fell open, the pencil slipping from your hand. “What’s your problem?” you asked, your voice trembling. “Why are you yelling at me?”

Matty leaned forward, his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. “Because I’m tired,” he said, his voice muffled. “Tired of always having to—” He stopped himself, exhaling sharply.

“Having to do what?” you challenged, hurt and confusion swirling in your chest. “Help me? Be my dad? Do your job?”

His head snapped up at that, regret flashing in his eyes. “That’s not what I meant,” he said quickly, but the damage was done.

You stood, grabbing your workbook and shoving it under your arm. “Forget it,” you muttered, storming toward the kitchen.

“Wait,” He called after you, but you ignored him, slamming the door behind you.

…

After the fight, after you’d stormed off and left your dad sitting alone in the living room with the weight of his guilt, he pulled out his phone. His thumb hovered over the contact list for a moment before settling on George’s name.

The phone rang twice before George picked up, his voice crackling with familiar sarcasm. “What’s wrong now, Matty? Writer’s block or midlife crisis?”

“Neither,” Matty grumbled. “I need advice.”

“Should I be worried?” George teased, but there was a note of concern beneath the humor.

“Is Charli there?” Matty asked, leaning back into the couch and pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Yeah, why?” George asked, and Matty could hear Charli’s voice faintly in the background. “Hang on, she’s coming.”

A moment later, Charli’s voice chimed in. “What do you need now, Matthew?”

Matty sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair. “I messed up. Big time.”

“Define ‘big time,’” Charli said, her tone shifting to something softer but still wary.

“I yelled at her,” Matty slowly admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “Like, really yelled. Over nothing. She just asked me for help with her homework, and I lost it. And now she’s mad at me, and I feel like the worst dad in the world.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line before George broke it with a dry laugh. “Well, mate, you’ve definitely hit peak ‘dad meltdown.’ Congrats.”

“George!” Charli scolded, though Matty could hear the smile in her voice.

“I’m serious!” George protested. “It’s a rite of passage, losing your cool over math homework. Classic stuff.”

“It’s not funny,” Matty snapped, though his voice lacked bite. “I scared her, George. She looked at me like I was some kind of monster.”

Charli’s tone turned gentle. “Matty, she knows you’re not a monster. But you’ve got to own it. Apologize, explain yourself, and make it right. She’s old enough to understand that you’re human too.”

“Yeah,” George added, “just don’t get all sappy about it. She’s almost a teenager. They can smell weakness.”

Matty groaned, tipping his head back against the couch. “You’re both useless.”

“Hey, we’re not the ones yelling at kids,” George shot back, though there was no malice in his tone. “Seriously, though, you’ll be fine. You’re a good dad, Matty. Even good dads screw up sometimes.”

Your dad just hummed.

Charli didn’t hesitate. “We know so. Now go sort it out before she starts plotting revenge.”

Matty chuckled weakly. “Thanks, guys.”

“Just don’t call us when she starts asking about boys.”

“Goodbye, George,” Matty said firmly, hanging up before his friend could say anything else.

…

Your Dad made his way up the stairs and to your room. He knocked softly, the door opening slightly. He didn’t realize it was cracked open. You had a habit of eavesdropping and Matty wanted to bet you kept your door open to listen to his phone conversation. He didn’t mind though. To him it was proof that he cared and that you heard him.

He knocked on the door to grab your attention before leaning on the doorframe. You didn’t look up at him or did nothing to acknowledge his presence. He spoke anyway, “You still need help with that?”

He could see you thinking about it - the wheels processing in your head. You were stubborn, just like him, you weren’t going to give in that easily. Yet, you were still stuck on the same twenty problems you had been on an hour ago.

You nodded, still not meeting his eyes. He sat next to you on the ground and gestured for you to hand him the workbook. Once you handed it to him you brought your knees up to your chest. “Jeez, they’re teaching you these things already? I swore I didn’t learn this till algebra I.”

You shrugged, “I’m in the advanced placement class, remember?” you reminded him shyly.

He nodded, “Of course you are.”

When you finally solved the last problem, you leaned back with a small smile, but it didn’t reach your eyes. “Got it,” you said softly, closing the workbook.

Matty ruffled your hair, trying to lighten the mood. “See? Knew you’d crack it. Smart kid.”

You didn’t swat his hand away this time. Instead, you stayed still, your gaze fixed on the closed workbook, playing with its frayed edges.

Something twisted in his chest. “You okay?” he asked gently.

You nodded quickly, but the way you blinked and turned your head to the side gave you away. Your dads heart sank when he saw the tear slip down your cheek, catching in the faint glow of the desk lamp.

“Hey, hey,” he murmured, sliding closer. His earlier confidence evaporated, replaced by a protective urgency. “What’s wrong, love? Talk to me.”

You shook your head, swiping at your cheek. “I’m fine.”

Matty wasn’t buying it. “No, you’re not,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “Is this about earlier?”

You hesitated, your hands fidgeting in your lap. “I just…” You trailed off, your voice barely audible. “I didn’t mean to bother you. I thought maybe if I did the math with you, you’d feel better. But it didn’t work. You just got mad, and I-I don’t know.”

Your words hit Matty like a punch to the gut. His hands hovered awkwardly for a moment before he reached out, pulling you into a hug while you sat in his lap. You didn’t resist, but you didn’t relax into him, either.

He held you tighter, his chest aching. “You didn’t bother me,” he said, his voice breaking slightly. “I was being a selfish twat. None of this was your fault- not the fight, not anything. I was upset about something else, and I took it out on you, and that’s not fair.”

You didn’t respond, but your head dropped against his chest, your quiet sniffles cutting through the silence.

Matty pulled back just a bit. Enough for his thumb to catch the few tears that had fallen. He paused for a moment, searching for the words. “I… there’s something I need to tell you.”

You looked up at him, blinking in surprise.

He took a deep breath, the weight of the words heavy in his chest. “She broke up with me today.”

You blinked again, clearly processing. “What?”

Matty exhaled slowly, trying to find some clarity amid the haze of emotions. “It…it doesn’t really matter. But I was angry. And I thought I could ignore it, but I couldn’t. I didn’t know how to deal with it, and then you-” His voice cracked, and he swallowed hard. “And I took it out on you. That’s not fair. I’m so sorry.”

You didn’t say anything for a long moment, just curled into him, quiet but comforting.

Matty pulled you closer, his hand gently resting on the back of your head. “I’ll make it right, I swear. You didn’t deserve any of that. You never do.”

You nodded, but there was a sadness in your eyes that didn’t fade.

He sighed, the weight of his earlier actions still heavy on his shoulders. He rubbed your back, a comforting motion, but deep down, he knew the words wouldn’t be enough this time. He had more to make up for.

“I’m sorry, love. I’m so sorry.”

You didn’t say anything for a while, but you didn’t pull away either. Eventually, as the quiet stretched between the two of you, you leaned back against him, your head resting on his chest.

After a long, quiet moment, you murmured, “I liked her, you know.”

Matty’s heart clenched, and he swallowed hard, blinking back the sting of tears that had nothing to do with his breakup and everything to do with the delicate truth in your voice.

“I know you did,” he said softly, his fingers brushing through your hair, his chest tightening. “She was good to you, wasn’t she.”

“I liked her,” you repeated, your voice quiet but sure. “She made you happy, and I liked that.”

Your dad smiled. He kissed the top of your head. “I know, love. But you make me the happiest. You’re the only girl I need.”

You didn’t reply, but you didn’t pull away either. The warmth of his embrace was everything, comfortable and safe in a way that made the sadness feel a little more bearable.

“You know,” he murmured after a while, “I can’t promise I won’t screw up again, but I’ll try. I’ll keep trying. We’re in this together, okay?”

“Okay,” you whispered back, and for the first time in a while, the softness in your voice felt real.

Matty leaned his head down and kissed the top of your hair, holding you close. As the minutes passed, he let his heart settle, but he knew the work wasn’t over. There was still healing to be done, and he would be there, doing everything he could, every step of the way.

[gravekeeper-anna]

Daily Writing Challenge 2024

November, Day 5 Words: Captive/Skill

@daily-writing-challenge

{ Taking place after Day 2: Deceit/Eternal (Safrona) }

It was a full wonder why the Gravekeeper allowed the demon a place to manifest in the depths of her mausoleum. Why she had let herself be taught the unnervingly familiar patterns of the basic summoning rune, why she had let the demonic heathen speak a word. The demonic teachings Lady Handhour had learned in life had been scraped away from her mind, perhaps torn away even on a spiritual level, and she craved no real return. A desperate woman in her grief had allowed herself to be pulled into the machinations of a cult in those years, allowed herself to be made captive and indoctrinated, and the less she remembered of those wretchedly wrong mistakes made, the better.

In truth, the Gravekeeper harbored a sharp dislike now for the Fel and the demonic by association. It was a force that was messy, mutated chaos bent on disorder, destruction. Even necromancy and death had structure, she thought, had its layered uses. It was a wonder that she did not allow her phantom friends to overwhelm the demon in the already waiting memorial that was the Gravekeeper’s home.

It was a wonder that she did not seek to separate demonic skin from bone, slowly, curious to how it might scream and how long it’s flesh could last until expiration. She did like the decorative potential of a perfectly preserved horned skull, and demon skin and bone might have fetched a good trade in the Apothecary market as an afterthought. In some aching chamber of her betrayed core, she wanted to strip the flesh from other things the demon whore was connected to. Crush her skull to dust, cast the name she had taken to nothingness.

Elernia appeared, a devil’s grin cut across her face. As if she knew from the moment she chose to appear, what the Gravekeeper wanted. The Keeper, saw red. Phantasmal hands struck the succubus in a sudden, vicious slap that echoed a dozen times through each supernatural limb, knocking the feminine figure to the stone floor with a satisfying collision. “I have a thought…” the banshee whispered insidiously, each of her phantasmal hands gripping the writhing demonic body in sections, and with brutal force, began to pull. “Maybe I don’t quite need you. Maybe, I only need your parts.” 

And then, a perfectly shaven skull parted the succubus fingers as she choked, rasped and cried out in pain. Perfectly preserved, the humanoid skull gleamed white on the sallow floor of her mausoleum. Immediately, the Keeper’s phantasmic hands released the demon, and slipped over the skull, bringing it into her ghostly fingers with unconventional gentleness. 

“I…I brought you what you wished, dearest,” the demon rasped out, regaining control of her breaths. She now held one of her overextended arms in the other, but the same devilish grin returned to her lips. “An offering, my Anna. Say hello to one very pathetic Mr. Delacroix, former Acolyte. I rid him of the less needed parts. He buried himself very nicely in Stormwind nobility, feeding off of their needs. And now you can bury him where you like. And I left a little something on the scene that’ll make the city wary about Summoners all over again. Nothing too pointed to our little mistake, but you know. Baby steps.”

“You are unbound, and she suspects nothing?” the Gravekeeper asked skeptically, tracing her pale fingers inside the natural sculpt of the skull’s eyeholes. The skull had been stripped of all skin cleanly, perhaps through acidic values, then lightly glazed to prevent any surface damage. It was a skilled, thoughtful preservation, something akin to what she might have performed to scoured relics when she was alive.

“Oh, I doubt it. I’ve always been good at being convincing. I've given her a little something to distract her. Besides, the little witch is shaken, I’d say even a little more unstable than usual.” The succubus hummed conspiratorially. “It’d be a perfect time to push her just a little more off the edge. Make everyone else in her circles distrust her. Isolation’s always fun.”

“Bring me more offerings,” the Gravekeeper insisted, the sudden flicker of her rage abated as quickly as the wind, now admiring her new skull. “...and tell me a bit about what the little Anomaly has learned to love. Maybe she’ll find she can’t protect them from the grave.”