#one piece hurts me so bad but oh the angst is wonderful

[gyubakeries]

hi! I love ur blogs sm! i was wondering if maybe you can do an angst-fluff scenario of mingyu getting jealousy and also a bit insecure with another guy talking with the reader?

𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝗴𝗲𝘁 𝗷𝗲𝗮𝗹𝗼𝘂𝘀 | k.mg

a/n: thanks for requesting! glad that you like my writing <33 i hope you like this one too 💗

p.s. wrote this in an hour?? theres like drafts rotting on my laptop but this takes an hour??? wth

word count: 1.8k contents: mingyu x fem!reader , established relationship , title from 'jealous' by nick jonas , as u can tell; mingyu gets jealous , mentions of past relationships , i used a random name for the ex , tiny bit of angst , mingyu gets insecure , hurt/comfort , fluff

mingyu hasn't been able to keep his eyes off of you.

under normal circumstances, you'd notice him and walk over to where he was standing and gazing at you with hearts in his eyes. you'd shoot him a teasing smirk and make some remark about how he's basically drooling all over the floor, and he'd accept it. he'd tell you that he doesn't feel even a tiny bit ashamed to be caught staring at his beautiful girlfriend.

but today wasn't normal.

it's been two hours since you arrived at seungcheol's housewarming party, and for the last thirty minutes, you've been talking to him.

jung eunseok.

he was the man who had left you heartbroken six years ago, which is when mingyu met you and resolved to make you happier than your ex ever could.

he was also the man you've been conversing with for the better part of an hour, and mingyu isn't too sure of how the conversation seems to be going so well, given that eunseok had abruptly ended your relationship with one single text and no further communication.

he trusts you. he's seen you live through the heartbreak and recover, and he knows you won't do anything to hurt him.

still.

he doesn't like the way eunseok smiles at you, he doesn't like the way you're laughing at his words, he doesn't like anything about the interaction.

"woah, you're gonna break that glass with your bare hands if you keep doing that," says someone from beside him, and mingyu turns to see seungkwan give him a knowing glance.

"i-i wasn't doing anything," mingyu tries to cover it up, not wanting to come across as the 'possessive' boyfriend who gets jealous too quickly.

"you're not fooling me," seungkwan rolls his eyes. "look, if you don't want her talking to that guy, just tell her. y/n won't take it in a bad way. but you need to be transparent with her for her to know that you're feeling uncomfortable, yeah?" he advises, patting mingyu's shoulder before walking away.

if only it was that easy.

when mingyu met you all those years ago, you had initially refused all his attempts to take you out on a date in favor of your recent breakup leaving your life messy and disorganized. mingyu had still stuck by your side, wanting to help you get better, which slowly earned him your trust.

before he was your boyfriend, he was your confidant, your pillar of support amidst all the chaos. you had told him all about eunseok and the breakup, and mingyu had sworn that he'd give your ex a piece of his mind if he ever met him.

yet, he remains frozen in his place, even when eunseok is just across the room.

"mingyu, oh my god, just go!" comes jeonghan's voice next. "you're burning holes into the guy's louis vuitton suit with that stare of yours, and trust me, it isn't very cheap."

mingyu inhales deeply, trying to gather courage to face eunseok. he grabs jeonghan's glass of something and downs it in one gulp, cringing at the bitter after taste of alcohol.

"liquid courage," he explains to his friend, before he's making his way to the kitchen. he confidently steps in next to you, sliding an arm around your waist and kissing your temple.

"hi baby, was wondering where you went off to," mingyu smiles at you, reveling in the kiss you press to his cheek.

"i was getting myself a drink, but then i ran into eunseok here!" you tell him. "eunseok, meet mingyu. mingyu, meet eunseok." you quickly introduce them, as if mingyu needed anymore of an introduction to your ex.

he curtly shakes eunseok's hand, looking dead into his eyes and saying, "kim mingyu, her boyfriend."

"yeah, y/n mentioned that earlier," eunseok smugly smiles, as if sensing mingyu's jealousy. "i must say, it's nice to meet the man who's making her happy after me, y'know?"

mingyu feels your body stiffen against his side at eunseok's words.

"eunseok, i don't think it's appropriate for you to say that," you cut in firmly.

"oh! i didn't realize my words would strike a nerve," he gives you both a fake smile. "i apologize, mingyu-ssi. i was just curious to see who could've been treating y/n this well after all these years."

"eunseok, enough," you grit your teeth together, and you can tell by the way mingyu's grip on your waist tightens that the both of you immediately want to take leave of eunseok's presence. "anyways, we should head home now, i'm tired." you look up at mingyu, and his eyes light up.

"what a shame, i would've loved to catch up some more," eunseok drawls, leaning against the counter and shamelessly looking you up and down.

"i hope we never have to again," you give him a tight smile, and then you're leaving the kitchen with mingyu. you both congratulate seungcheol on his new house, and quickly leave the party.

—

mingyu is uncharacteristically quiet on the drive back home, and you can tell it's because of what happened at the party.

"gyu, are you okay?" you ask him softly, noting how he grips the steering wheel so tight his knuckles go white.

"i didn't know you were still on talking terms with him," his tone is clipped, and you know that he's annoyed. "i thought he broke your heart all those years ago, y/n."

"he did, mingyu," you sigh. "i swear i didn't let the conversation last that long. i was just being polite because he approached me first."

"why didn't you just leave? you don't owe him an explanation," mingyu counters. "you just stayed there, laughing and smiling at him, while i felt like an idiot because my girlfriend was chatting with her ex-boyfriend for almost an hour!"

"were you jealous?" you ask him, not realizing that your actions affected him to this extent.

"of course i was, y/n," mingyu sighs exasperatedly. "he's your rich ex-boyfriend. he was the one who took you to paris and rome twice a year. he was the one buying you expensive gifts. and i know i'm dating you now, but i've never felt more insecure before anyone."

"mingyu," you whisper, hand reaching out to hold his free one. "you don't have to feel that way about anyone. you're the only one i love, so my past relationships don't matter at all. not when i'm the happiest with you."

mingyu's eyes are trained on the road ahead of him, and he stays silent up until you reach home. you stay quiet too, letting him take his time to sort out how he's feeling.

it's only later, when you've both changed into pajamas and you're in the middle of your skincare routine when mingyu talks again.

"it's so stupid and immature, but i felt jealous because i couldn't help but think he was... better than me," mingyu starts, and you turn to face him. his shoulders are drooping, and he won't even meet your gaze.

"i know how broken you were when he left you, but seeing him with you tonight, it just made me wonder if you would think that he's changed, or that you still want him back. it's wrong of me to think that way about you, i know, but my mind couldn't stop running through all these possibilities. what if you didn't love me as much as you loved him? what if you wanted to leave me to-"

"gyu, baby, slow down," you whisper. caught up in his rambling, he hadn't even noticed when you walked over to the edge of the bed where he was sitting, now standing between his legs and gently running your hands through his hair to calm him down.

"it's okay that you felt jealous and insecure, i'm not mad at you," you assure him, making sure to look into his eyes as you speak so he knows you're genuine with your words. "i can promise you that the conversation meant nothing to me. plus, he really hasn't changed; he's the same self-centered bastard he was all those years ago. i was only stuck there because he couldn't stop bragging about all his success and fame."

"mingyu, i'd never leave you for anyone else, because you're it for me," you admit truthfully. "no one's made me feel more special or happy than you have, and the expensive gifts and trips don't matter. my favorite place to be is with you, and with how much you do for me, i don't need any other gifts. you understand me?"

mingyu nods, his eyes glassy with unshed tears. he wraps his arms around your waist to pull you in a hug, his head resting on your chest.

"thank you," he mutters, and you feel the words being spoken against your skin through the fabric of your shirt. "i love you so much. i was just being paranoid about losing you."

"you don't have to be," you smile at him. "i love you too, and i'm staying with you forever. no one can take that away, yeah?"

mingyu abruptly falls back onto the bed, pulling you along with him. after a bit of shuffling around, you're both under the covers and wrapped in each other's arms.

you lay with your head rested against mingyu's chest, but you can sense that he's still thinking about something.

"is something still bothering you?" you ask. "we can talk about it, if it makes you feel better."

"i'm just regretting how things went down with eunseok at the party," mingyu sighs dramatically. "i had always told myself that if i ever came across your ex, i'd step in as the cool, better boyfriend, maybe even give him a piece of my mind. but all i did was get intimidated by that shiny watching hanging off his wrist."

you laugh at how mingyu is pouting, and you playfully shove his chest. "that watch was a rip-off, don't worry. but, if you feel like you need a re-match, we could always just set up another meeting with eunseok-"

"nope, not at all," mingyu stops you, kissing your lips as an interruption. "i never wanna see him around you ever again."

"you don't have to worry about it," you tell him. "i've got my own six-foot pole to poke him away with if he ever gets too close."

"a six-foot pole- wait. did you just call me a pole?" mingyu gasps, realization finally striking him, making you burst into laughter.

"well, what do you prefer?" you joke. "you're literally built like a long pole."

"a sexy, scary bodyguard would be a better description," mingyu sulks.

"sexy, i can agree with. scary? not so much," you tease, and mingyu's pout only deepens.

"whatever, any name works, as long as we're not bumping into him anymore," mingyu gives in, and you kiss him sweetly as reassurance.

"it doesn't matter even if we bump into him, because i only have eyes for you," you promise, and mingyu squeals like a little girl before diving in to press soft kisses to your entire face.

the night ends like that, with both of you giggling under the covers, safe in each other's arms, and filled with a love that will never fade.

- fin.

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[nvuy]

palingenesis — il capitano

summary. oh, to the gods, and to be reborn again from your rib.

notes. “nvuy do the corpse bride capitano fic” said about three people so i did it. is this actually corpse bride? no. do i care? also no. my halloween present that only certified freaks are allowed to read. capitano is geniunely not mentioned by his name or his status, so LOWKEY. you could read this as any male lead you want, i guess. but uh… it’s capitano. well. it’s supposed to be.

warnings. mentions of death. mentions of decay (but the khaenri’ah version of decay). capitano is literally a dead man walking. tangents about god and love. standard nvuy fic where everyone is miserable. angst if you squint.

“You used to love me for me, but I don’t even know what I am anymore.” 

There’s a small huff of laughter as you bring your knees to your chest. You wonder how he would react to you after all these years. You surely look different, and rot has set its teeth into your skin, and it morphs into his least favourite colour. 

You wonder briefly, if he would even remember you, was he to ever return. How childish.

You pick up a lone stick in the soil next to you and poke at the withered and abandoned white and yellow orchards surrounding the stone. 

His grave sits idly, silent. 

“I lost myself the day you died,” you admit. Your throat constricts for a moment and you struggle to breathe. “I had no idea what to do.” You lean against the tree stump, as you always do. “I still don’t.” 

His name is etched from many many centuries ago. Not by you, no. You hadn’t even attended the funeral, and to this day, you regretted it. Regret was a terrible ache that never quelled nor strayed too far from your heart. 

The flowers were dead now. You’d laid them here almost a hundred years ago. You hadn’t expected them to live, but the petals were now an ashy black, and the edges that used to be soft and rubbery were now crumbling like paper against your fingers. The petals fell to small pieces. 

The land was withering. Of course, the flowers would rot as well. 

“You’d hate what your home has become,” you tell him. “We’re all rotting. And it all hurts.” You grimace next, but almost playfully. “Everything is blue. You hate blue. You used to tell me it upset you.” You look down at your forearm, and the withering aches upon your skin. “Even I’m turning blue.” It’s more so black than it is blue, but whatever colour it may be, it scars and will never leave. It is your fate, as it is your people’s. 

The forest is quiet. 

His body was buried amongst his favourite orchard field, but those flowers are long gone now, and all that remains is the black and blue prickly grass that you sit in, and a stone with his name left in it. He is somewhere below the ground, his body long decayed and faded and given life to the soil that once grew the most beautiful greenery you’d ever seen. 

Not even that remained. 

“If you were alive, you’d… y’know…” You tilt your head. “You’d rot, too. And for that, I’m grateful you died with glory.” You stare out into the dead fields. “Though, I can’t help but be selfish. I think it would hurt less if you were here.” 

And there it is. 

You hum soundly. “Yeah… you made everything hurt less.” 

There’s a ring in your palm. It’s small, just large enough to slot nicely around the swell of your fourth finger, but the rot has dug into your flesh just enough that it doesn’t fit anymore. Not the way it used to. 

It’s beautiful, however. Silver with white and blue diamonds. He bestowed it to you one night, though it was significantly after his proposal. The proposal itself was… special. Not in a bad way — but in his way. He had been missing for several days after his army had been struck with an ambush. Only a few men had initially returned to seek refuge and aid from the city. 

It was only two months later, after the city had mourned the soldiers’ losses, that they had returned. Bloodied, battered, beaten, but they had returned. 

He’d spotted you that day when he’d ventured out alone to visit his favourite field of flowers. You were sitting amidst the orchards, because this was where he’d usually be. 

And by your wishes, he returned. 

“It’s you,” you heard him whisper. 

You’d never heard a more beautiful sound. 

You turned quickly and dropped the flower from your hands. The colour almost drained from your face before a newfound pleasantry blossomed across your cheeks. You smiled, and it’s the first time you’ve done so in months. “You’re alive.” 

You took a hesitant step forward, as if unsure if his body would crumble to dust the moment you touched him. 

You sobbed pathetically. You held his face, or what remained of it. “You’re here. I thought you–” 

“I am here.” 

You think it silly now, believing he was dead over and over again. Every time he departed he’d come after the expected arrival date, and even then you used to panic and flourish and do everything but accept he was really gone this time. 

And now. 

Now that he is gone, it only took you three-hundred and ninety-four years to accept it. The rest of those you were busy returning to his grave and retelling your day as if he was alive and listening. 

The few people that were left on this side of the city pitied you. Even the grand old Mage had whispered that you’d better off leaving the dead to sleep soundly before he’d left for Snezhnaya. There was nothing you could have done to prevent this, or what occurred afterward. 

You had asked the Mage, once, if necromancy was truly a thing possible. 

“I am sure, even if it was, living dead is worse than living alive,” he had told you one day. “The past is finished.” 

“Is it selfish to think this way?” 

He looked down at you, and there was pity in his glance. “Very.” You eyed the ring still captured around your finger. “But, love is selfish. To want one person for yourself. It is indulgent.” 

“I suppose,” you whispered. “But possession is beautiful.”

And it had been beautiful. 

Just you and him. 

It was hard to adapt. Still is, really. You forget him for days at a time, and then you remember, and then you return. You stop and stare at walls. You glance to where he would be standing if he was around; next to you, at the dinner table, on his side of the bed. You never truly made the bed your very own. It was his, once. 

Just as your heart was — you weren’t able to develop the courage to move onwards with your life, so you were trapped within purgatory; swindled in a void of pure blue, like his eyes. 

Because isn’t being someone’s everything so special? 

Especially someone like him. 

Someone so brave, and courteous, and gentle. 

You never deserved that, really. So it makes sense why he disappeared just as quickly as he appeared in your life. Unfairness. 

You look down at the ring again. 

“You would be mine?” he asked one day, laying beside you in the field. “If I asked?”

You stared up at the sky. “I already am.” 

That pulled a small puff of laughter from him, and he sat up. You followed shortly, facing him. “I have a ring. And a proposition.” 

Oh. You looked down on what he was offering you. 

“It is your burden to oblige, and it is your choice.” You couldn’t see his face clearly through his armour, but there was a flash of that awful treacherous blue he hated so much. “But, if you’ll have me, I will have you. In this life, you and I will be as one, and never apart again.” 

“That is a bold claim to make,” you told him. “There is no guarantee you will not die soon.” 

“To which I rephrase: even when I am gone and you still walk these plains, you will be mine, and I will be yours, and my love for you will blossom through the soil and bloom the flowers that you love so much.” 

You laugh gently. Such a stupid man. 

You want to crush the ring until it welds flat and unwearable. 

Marriage is a privilege to the blessed, and you’re far from it. You receive no watchful eye from the Gods; they don’t care. They killed everyone you ever knew, and loved, and shared this miserable life with. 

The jewel squeaks in its confines as you squeeze. 

Such a stupid ring. 

You breathe in shakily. Stupid, stupid fantasy. Stupid games. Stupid delusions and useless pining and all of this heartache was for nothing and–

How hard do you have to believe in love to love the same person for an eternity? How hard do you have to imagine a world where everything is perfect when what is foretold to be eternal dies with the soul and the flowers in the rot? 

How long do man and Gods have to continue fighting each other before they realise it is futile? Gods are not kind, man even less so. 

Beautiful rot and ruin. 

That’s the world. 

The crows that sing in the trees screech their awful song to mock you. 

So, you drop the ring. You abandon it right where he had abandoned you in the soil. The silver rolls along the stone until it comes to a stop on the cracks. 

And it sits. 

You consider picking it back up. 

You don’t. 

Instead, you stand and turn to leave. 

Fate is fickle, however. 

If you had picked the ring back up, perhaps none of this would’ve happened. 

The breeze hits hard behind you and it sends chills down your spine. 

You glance up. 

The crows are making awful noises again, and you grimace. Though the spindly trees are ugly, you find there’s nothing uglier than the sound of those birds. 

He rather liked them.  

You step away.

Something sharp scratches against your ankle and then twists, and you scream. 

It’s a branch of some sort, and it moves and wriggles like a worm when you free your foot from its grasp. It twitches as if it has not moved in years, as if the bones inside of it were finally coming to life. 

It retreats into the soil beside his grave. 

Then, nothing. 

Nothing moves. 

The crows still and quiet, and you feel as though you can’t find the energy or courage to breathe. Your ankle is covered in soil and scratches, and you’re sure from how weak it stands when you try to apply weight to it that it’s twisted at best and completely sprained at worst. 

The soil does not stir. 

Until it does.

A hand pops a hole through the ground, and it is as still as the branch was, twitching and writhing and feeling through the open air for leverage. 

A hand. A hand like yours—covered in rot and ruin, purple and blue, and the phalanges are swollen with wither and time.

You step back and bite your tongue. A wrist reveals itself next, consistent with blue and bruise, and it reaches until the bloodied terrible fingers squeeze the soil and begin to pull. The hand claws and claws and digs itself from the ground, fingernails dirtied and brown. 

You want to scream. 

Nobody would hear you all the way out here. 

An elbow. It climbs and climbs, revealing more rot and decay. It writhes as if in pain, and you don’t doubt it so. 

You swallow hard. 

A shoulder. Sides of the neck reveal itself through the soil, caked in mud and wear and tear. It’s other arm tears free from the ground. 

And then a face. 

A face unidentifiable and ruined. Sullied with rot and bruise and wear and fade and filth. Two horrific blue lights of sort cast through the pain and the shadow that shrouds its face, and it only prompts you to step back even further. 

To that, the creature leans forward as best it can to try and grab your ankle. It’s waist is stuck in the soil, and it tries to pull itself out, despite how weak it is. 

“It’s you…” the creature whispers. 

You can’t move. You don’t even blink. Your breathing only comes out in short pathetic bursts. 

You’re not sure what it is, but rot has completely disfigured it beyond recognition. It’s sickening to look at. It’s worse than anything you could ever comprehend, and you imagine one day that you will appear the same. 

It manages to free itself from the confines of the soil, though it cannot stand. It hasn’t done so in centuries, nd the feeling of moving limbs are foreign to it, being entrapped below the ground for so long. 

It tries again to reach for you. It’s fingers brush just shy of your foot.  

You swallow hard. “Who…” You feel as though you already know the answer. 

There’s a single eye that you barely recognise. Deep blue like violet satin robes. Darker than the dead blue spruce. Darker than the sky, and lighter than the depths of the ocean where the sun could not reach. 

You know him. 

You bite your tongue. 

Waves of black hair as deep as shadows drown you on both sides until the world has swallowed the two of you whole. 

“I’m yours,” he reminds. “Correct?” He raises the ring you let go of.

It is him. 

You fall to your knees in front of him despite the fear and nausea churning in your stomach. He almost leaps on top of you, but settles in front, hands reaching forward to rest on your legs. He has not felt the warmth of another person, or anything, for five-hundred years, and he only simply freezes at the feeling. 

You furrow your brows and try to control your breathing. You try to push him off to sit up, but he does not budge. 

“You kept my ring.”

Your fingers curl around what remains of his shoulders and he takes your hand. 

“It is you,” you whisper. “How’re you–” 

His old uniform he was buried in is caked in soil, and it’s covered you, as well. He does not bring himself off of the floor, but he leans back just enough to allow you to sit up. You feel you can’t turn to run just yet, and you’re not sure if you want to. 

You can’t steady your breathing. 

He cannot move his legs properly, and so while you freeze, he uses your corpse as leverage to climb further up and rest upon your shoulder. He is heavy, as heavy as a corpse is, but you find comfort in the weight, somewhere. 

“You look so different,” he comments. Rotten fingers come forth to graze the same textured remainders of true flesh across your cheek. “What has this world done to you?” 

“You died,” you say. His lips rest against your cheek and he hums. “I…” 

“I abandoned you.” 

“I grieved over you for five centuries,” you quickly finish. “You were alive this entire time in the ground?” 

“I don’t know,” he answers. “I don’t think so. I feel as though time hasn’t moved at all. But it has.” He looks around, your face still in his hands. “This is the field.” 

You nod briskly. 

“Everything’s dead,” he comments. 

“It has been,” you reply. “For years.” You look elsewhere. “Everyone’s dead.” 

He holds you tight. “I left you in a world like this.” His hair is matted and disgusting, but you reach up and rest a hand on his crown. Guilt presses into his chest like a weight, and he wills himself to ignore it, despite how heavy it is. 

He is a corpse. A corpse. Like you. Like everyone that remains in this place. 

And he scares you. 

Despite how tight he holds you, you fear him. You feel for a moment you are hallucinating; this can’t be real. Your husband cannot spring from the soil and restate his love. Not like this. 

True death was incurable, and he had died many moons before the war in battle. He had sacrificed himself for victory and peace, only for it to end when the Archons set forth and destroyed your home. You still remember them, even if most of them were dead now. That Barbatos and Rex Lapis remained, despite everything, and you wanted them both dead in return. Dead and buried and never to return in the soil. 

“This isn’t real,” you whisper. 

“It is.” 

“No,” you try. “You died. You cannot reverse death.” 

“It is not reversed. I am still dead.” He wants to kiss you, but the fleeting warmth of your skin as you try to pull away and the soil and filth that rests upon his face shies you away with a flinch. “I can be yours again.” His fingers grace over the rot along your face. 

“It doesn’t make sense.” 

“I proposed that I would never part from you, and you I, even after death.” He holds the ring close to your face before he takes your hand. He rests it against your knuckles, perhaps admiring how the silver still shimmers against your skin. “It was a vow.” 

A vow, he says. Your face scrunches up in frustration. “I never married you.” 

“Marriage or not, the ring was a promise of my word, and you kept it all these years.” 

He takes your fingers gently before he parts them and slots the ring where it belongs. It nestles gently close to your knuckle and you swallow. Your finger felt strange without the piece, and wearing it again after only minutes satiated that discomfort. 

His face is… nothing you remember. 

His eyes are barely the same as they were before, and you turn away when he draws close again with a shaky breath.  

“Are you afraid of me?” He’d asked you that many years ago, many times. 

Even now, you feel the same. “Should I be?” You look out towards the dead fields, and you feel something cold bump against your cheek. 

His nose squishes against your skin when he kisses you close to your ear. “No.” 

It is only then through a gentle whisper and his lips do you muster the courage to look at him. He is so different. 

But, he’s still yours. 

“Are you the same man you were five-hundred years ago?” you ask him. 

He leans in as close as he can and his nose brushes against yours. His fingers lock tight around your hand and he squeezes; the silver ring imprints on your finger. 

He smiles, and you fall in love again. 

“I can be.” 

[sidekick-hero]

In Loving Memory

Written for @steddieangstyaugust Day 4, prompt: Angst with Happy Ending

Tags: Modern AU, rockstar Eddie, plane crash, HAPPY ENDING, minor character death

words: 3.3k | AO3 | mature

“Good afternoon, Mr. Harrington. My name is Elizabeth Quinn, and I’m part of the cabin crew today. Thank you for choosing to fly with us. I hope you're enjoying your flight so far.”

Steve looks up at the owner of the soft voice to his right. It’s a young woman in a stewardess uniform with big brown eyes that instantly remind him of Eddie.

“Oh, hello. Uhm, yes, everything is fine, thank you.”

The stewardess smiles warmly. “I'm glad to hear that, sir. I wanted to discuss a situation we’re currently facing. As you may know, flights can sometimes be overbooked, and today we have a few more passengers than seats available in first class. We’re looking for a volunteer to move to another section of the plane. In exchange, we’re offering a significant compensation package, including a voucher for a future flight, a complimentary upgrade on your next trip, and a gift card for our in-flight shopping.”

She looks apologetic, and he can tell she hates asking him this. It’s not a particularly long flight, and he mostly booked first class because that’s what his father’s secretary always did for him the few times his parents had him fly to wherever they were. So giving up his seat for a four-hour flight doesn’t seem too bad.

“Yes, I can move to another section of the plane. That’s okay,” he tells the stewardess and is rewarded with a bright, genuine smile adorned with dimples. Another thing that reminds him of Eddie. He pushes the ache in his chest down and returns the friendly smile with one of his own.

“Thank you so much for doing this, Mr. Harrington. If you have any specific preferences or questions, please let me know. Your understanding and cooperation greatly help us ensure everyone has a comfortable flight.”

With that, she leads him to another part of the plane, presumably Economy class.

“This one right here, Mr. Harrington. It has extra legroom and is situated next to an emergency exit. I will make sure you have a pleasant flight with us. You can call me with the call button or find me at the front or back of the plane.”

Steve nods with another smile that falls as soon as she walks away to prepare for takeoff. His thoughts wander back to the reason he’s on a flight to LA today.

Eddie.

He still wonders if this is a good idea. When he bought the ticket to LA, he was sure of it. The panic that had constricted his throat had lessened as soon as he pulled up the website of the airline and he felt like he could breathe again for the first time when he got the confirmation mail.

It’s a long shot, he knows that. Surprising Eddie in LA after everything that happened but he hopes it’s a grand enough gesture that maybe Eddie will forget how much Steve has hurt him. Robin suggested to just call Eddie and apologize, explain to him why Steve was so reluctant to take the next step with him.

The truth is, Steve doesn’t think he could handle it when Eddie didn’t pick up the phone or just hangs up on him before he can say his piece. If Eddie decides that it’s too much for him, that Steve’s too much, too damaged, then be it. But he needs to see Eddie one last time, drink in those beloved doe eyes one more time.

Steve thinks about why he and Eddie fought the last time they saw each other. Growing up in a very conservative household, Steve always suspected he might like men as well as women, but he denied any attraction toward men because of what his parents might say. He knew they wouldn’t accept him.

He was 31 when he walked into a bar in Chicago with his best friend Robin and locked eyes with the most beautiful man he’d ever seen. Eddie was the first man he ever kissed, ever slept with. He couldn’t help himself, not when Eddie flirted with him, wooed him, and made him laugh with his whole body. Steve always assumed what they had was strictly physical, just some fun between two single guys.

But Eddie wanted more than that. He wanted a relationship with Steve.

Eddie had asked Steve to be his date on the red carpet in LA for the Grammy Awards. Eddie was actually nominated with his band, Corroded Coffin, and he wanted to show the world who he loved. But Steve was scared. Everybody would know he was in a relationship with another man. So he declined, and Eddie left Steve’s apartment heartbroken.

Steve can still see the look on Eddie’s face, the hurt in his eyes. It had shattered something inside him, but his fear was stronger. He had watched Eddie walk away, the love of his life slipping through his fingers because he was too afraid to hold on.

Steve’s thoughts are interrupted by the plane's PA system crackling to life, announcing their imminent takeoff. He leans back in his seat, staring out the window as the plane begins to taxi down the runway. The memory of Eddie's face, the pain in his eyes, is as vivid as ever.

He had tried to justify his fear, telling himself it was about protecting Eddie, about not wanting to put him through the scrutiny and judgment that would come from being seen with another man. But deep down, Steve knew it was about protecting himself. He was scared of what his parents would think, what the world would think.

As the plane ascends, Steve closes his eyes, replaying that last conversation with Eddie in his mind.

"Steve, I love you. I want us to be together, really together," Eddie had said, his voice trembling with emotion. "I want you by my side at the Grammys. I want to show the world who I love."

Steve had felt his heart pound in his chest, a mix of fear and longing. "Eddie, I can't. You know how my parents are, how everyone will react. It's not that simple."

Eddie's eyes had filled with tears. "It is that simple, Steve. Either you love me enough to be with me, openly and proudly, or you don’t. I can’t keep hiding us. I can't keep hiding you."

Steve had stood there, silent and conflicted, as Eddie walked out the door. The sound of the door closing behind him had felt like the end of everything.

The plane levels off, and Steve opens his eyes, blinking back tears. He knows this trip to LA is a long shot, but he has to try. He has to make Eddie understand how much he means to him.

Steve takes a deep breath and pulls out his phone, opening the notes app. He starts typing, trying to find the right words to say when he sees Eddie.

The flight attendants come by with the beverage cart, and Steve looks up to see Elizabeth smiling at him. “Can I get you anything, Mr. Harrington?”

“Just some water, please,” Steve says, returning her smile.

As she hands him the bottle of water, she says softly, “It looks like you have a lot on your mind, if you don’t mind me saying.”

Steve looks up at her as he accepts the cup of water and finds that he actually wants to talk with someone about what he’s about to do. He needs someone to tell him that it’s going to work out.

“I do. I’m on my way to win back the man I’m in love with.”

There, he said it. He admitted that he was in love with another man and now he’s fighting the urge to hide, scared of her reaction. But he holds her gaze, heart pounding in his chest.

“Oh,” she says, her eyes softening, “that explains the look on your face. I think you’re very brave, Mr. Harrington.”

Steve takes a moment, contemplating how much to share. But he feels a strange sense of comfort in Elizabeth’s kind eyes.

“His name is Eddie,” Steve begins, his voice barely above a whisper. “He’s the most amazing man I’ve ever met. He’s kind, talented, and makes me laugh like no one else can. But I let my fear ruin everything between us.”

Elizabeth listens intently, her expression encouraging him to continue.

“We fought because he wanted us to go public, to be together openly. He wanted me to go with him to the Grammys, to be his date. But I was too scared of what my parents would think, what people would say. So, I said no. And he left,” Steve explains, his voice cracking.

Elizabeth nods, understanding in her eyes. “That sounds really hard, Steve. But it also sounds like you care a lot about him.”

“I do,” Steve says, his eyes filling with tears. “I love him more than anything. That’s why I’m going to LA. I need to tell him how sorry I am and that I’m ready to be with him, no matter what anyone else thinks.”

Elizabeth places a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “It takes a lot of courage to admit when you’re wrong and to fight for what you love. Eddie is a very lucky man to be loved so much by you, Steve. I hope he sees that.”

Steve smiles, feeling a bit lighter. “Thank you, Elizabeth. I really hope he does.”

Elizabeth gives his shoulder a gentle squeeze before moving on to the next passenger. Steve watches her go, feeling a much needed sense of hope. He’s made mistakes, let fear dictate his actions, but he’s ready to make things right.

About two hours into the flight, Steve decides to stretch his legs and walks up and down the narrow aisle. He passes families with little kids, an elderly couple working on a crossword puzzle together, and two young women chatting and laughing. It’s fascinating to see so many different lives intersecting in one place.

On his fifth lap, Elizabeth appears next to him, gently touching his arm.

“Steve, could you please take your seat and fasten your seatbelt?”

He looks at her, puzzled. “But the seatbelt signs are still off.”

“That’s true, but from experience, I know the signs could come on any minute. I just wanted to give you a heads-up before the aisle gets too crowded with everyone returning to their seats.”

Steve nods, appreciating the heads-up. “Thanks for letting me know.” He heads back to his seat.

As Steve settles in and fastens his seatbelt, the plane suddenly lurches violently. The cabin shakes with a gut-wrenching turbulence, hurling passengers and their belongings through the air. Panic erupts as screams fill the cabin, and Steve clings to his seat, trying to stay calm amid the chaos.

Elizabeth dashes down the aisle, her face pale and eyes wide. She spots Steve and rushes over, her voice barely audible over the cacophony. “Steve! Call Eddie! Now!”

Heart pounding, Steve scrambles for his phone. His hands tremble uncontrollably as he dials Eddie’s number. The turbulence makes it nearly impossible to hold the phone steady, but he manages to keep a grip.

The call connects, and Eddie’s voice comes through, thick with confusion and worry. “Steve?” He asks and then he must hear the chaos in the background because he immediately adds, “What’s going on? Is everything alright?”

“Eddie,” Steve’s voice cracks as he fights back tears. “I’m so sorry. I should have been braver. I should have been all in. I’m on this plane, and it’s really bad. I wanted to come to LA to talk to you. I wish I could have done all this in person. I wish I could kiss you one last time.”

Eddie’s voice trembles with desperation. “Steve, what’s happening? Why does this sound like a goodbye?”

Steve’s eyes dart around the cabin, the plane shaking violently as alarms blare and panicked voices rise. “I don’t know what’s going to happen. I don’t want this to be a goodbye, but I think it might be. I needed to tell you how much I regret being so scared, and I’m sorry for hurting you. I love you, Eddie. I should’ve told you when I had the chance.”

The turbulence worsens, and the plane begins a terrifying descent. The noise in the background grows louder and more intense. Eddie’s voice, filled with panic, tries to reach him. “Steve, stay with me! Please!”

But as the plane’s descent becomes more violent, the call goes eerily silent. Steve’s heart pounds in his chest as the only sound now is the relentless, chilling dial tone. Tears stream down his face as he grips the phone tightly.

Elizabeth returns to Steve’s side, her eyes filled with kindness and urgency. She places a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Hold on, Steve. It’s going to be okay, but I need you to fight. For Eddie, okay?”

Steve nods, trying to steady himself amidst the chaos. He closes his eyes, focusing on Eddie’s voice and the love they shared, holding onto the hope that somehow, somehow, he’ll get another chance.

The last thing he hears is the deafening roar of something massive hitting the ground way too fast.

When Steve opens his eyes, he’s immediately overwhelmed by blinding light and searing pain. He groans, wishing for unconsciousness to take him away again so the agony would stop.

“Steve?”

The sound of Eddie’s voice pulls him from the sweet embrace of nothingness. The panic in Eddie’s voice is palpable, as if he’s on the verge of breaking down.

“’ddie?” Steve mumbles, his mouth feeling like it’s stuffed with cotton and his tongue heavy.

“Yes, I’m here, Stevie. I’m here.” Suddenly, Eddie’s beloved face appears above him, his eyes red-rimmed and watery. “Hi, baby.”

Steve manages a smile, the pain momentarily overshadowed by the sight of Eddie’s face. How he’s missed those eyes.

The thought brings Elizabeth back to his mind, the stewardess with the same eyes. Reality crashes back, and Steve gasps with the sudden realization that he should be dead.

“What… happened?” he croaks, his voice barely audible as his strength begins to wane.

“I promise I’ll explain everything, Stevie, but first we need to get your strength back. I’ll let the nurse know you’re awake.” Eddie reaches for the call button next to Steve but stops to press a gentle kiss to Steve’s forehead. “I’m so glad you’re here. I was terrified of losing you.”

That’s the last thing Steve hears before darkness pulls him under once more.

The next time Steve wakes up, he feels a bit better. The pain is still there, but it’s dulled by the medication, making it manageable. He’s strong enough to talk more than just a few minutes, and he uses that strength to repeat to Eddie what he had said on the phone during the crash.

Eddie is holding Steve’s hand between his, his tear-streaked cheek resting gently on the back of Steve’s hand. His eyes are still red and puffy, but he speaks with a steady voice that is thick with emotion. “Steve, I could never just walk away from you. I knew you weren’t ready, even though it hurt. I planned to talk to you when I got back to Chicago, to tell you that I would wait for you, as long as I wouldn’t lose you. But when you called and I heard all that screaming… Fuck! I can’t even think about it without wanting to throw up. The crash was bad—most of the front was completely destroyed. It’s a miracle you survived.”

Steve blinks, trying to piece together the fragments of his memory. “How… How did I survive?”

Eddie’s gaze is intense as he searches Steve’s eyes. “From what they told me, you were supposed to be seated in the front, but you weren’t. No one could explain why. Your seat was right next to the emergency exit, so they got you out quickly. And you had your seatbelt fastened, which probably kept you from being thrown around too much. It’s almost like fate that you survived. Only twenty-three people made it.”

Steve’s eyes widen as he absorbs Eddie’s words. The thought weighs heavily on his chest: If it hadn’t been for Elizabeth’s warning, he might not have been so lucky. He’s sure she’s the reason he’s still here.

A flicker of concern crosses Steve’s face. “Elizabeth… she was a stewardess on the flight. She moved me to this seat, told me that first class was overbooked and asked if I’d be willing to switch. And she also made sure I fastened my seatbelt just before we started going down.”

Eddie’s eyes grow wide with shock. “But… they said on the news that casualties were below a hundred because first class wasn’t as full as usual. They said no one in that section survived.”

Steve’s heart pounds as he starts to realize the gravity of Elizabeth’s actions. “I need to find out if she survived, Eddie. She saved my life, and I need to thank her.”

Eddie’s eyes brighten with resolve. “We can do that, Stevie. I need to thank this woman, who saved the man I love. What’s her name? I’ll get Chrissy on it—she’ll find out in no time.”

Feeling his love for Eddie surge, Steve lets it overflow for the first time without restraint. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too.”

They share a long, tender look, like lovesick teenagers, before Steve remembers Eddie’s question. “Her name is Elizabeth Quinn.”

Eddie’s expression changes abruptly. All color drains from his face.

“What did you say her name is?”

“Elizabeth Quinn. Why, do you know her?”

Ignoring the question, Eddie asks, “What did she look like?”

Steve describes Elizabeth, including her big brown eyes that reminded him of Eddie’s—one reason he bonded with her almost instantly.

As Steve finishes, Eddie looks even paler. Wordlessly, he pulls out his phone, navigates to an article from the airline, and hands it to Steve. The headline reads: “Airline Grieves Loss of Crew Members on Flight 731.” The article features a picture of a stewardess who looks just like Elizabeth. Her name is listed below the photo: Elizabeth Quinn.

Steve’s heart sinks as he reads the name. “That’s her. Elizabeth Quinn.”

Eddie’s voice trembles as he looks at Steve. “Elizabeth Quinn was my mom. She was a stewardess, and she died in a plane crash when I was eight.”

Steve’s eyes widen in shock. “I’m so sorry, Eddie. I had no idea.”

Eddie’s eyes are glassy as he looks at Steve. “She was the best person I knew. She loved her job and loved helping people. And now it seems she came back to help two more people: me and you.”

Steve reaches out weakly, placing a hand on Eddie’s. “I wish I could have thanked her in person. But I did tell her about you—how funny, smart, and amazing you are. How much I love you. And I should have known, because you look just like her. The same kind eyes and dimples when you smile.”

Eddie squeezes Steve’s hand, his voice breaking. “I’m glad you got to meet her. God, this is so crazy. I was so angry for so long that she left me. I know it’s unfair, but that’s how I felt. I miss her so much.”

“She knew you loved her. She made sure you wouldn’t lose another person you love, because she loves you too. Even if she’s no longer here, she’s still watching over you.”

“Over us, you mean. I’m pretty sure this means you’re part of the family now.”

Eddie still asks Chrissy to check the airline's list for Steve’s savior. He’s not surprised when Chrissy reports that there was no Elizabeth Quinn on that flight.

[kinicheous]

dazed | kinich

kinich comes to your rescue, but your oh so poor heart doesn't know how to deal with it.

genres/notes: fluff, angst if you squint, reader is down bad, reader is also injured/poisoned (let me know if something is missing!)

you feel embarrassed. flustered. warm, but in a good way. or maybe not, you can’t tell for sure. you want time to stop, but you also want it to fast-forward you out of the current. you can sense the parts of your body that hurt — which make the reason you’re in this situation in the first place — but your mind is too hazed to care about that really yet. 

kinich’s presence almost throws you off. it makes you let your guard down, but you also feel hyper aware of everything around you. you want to keep a healthy distance that will give the beating against your ribcage a break, but you also want to be closer. closer and closer, impossibly closer, as if you’re not being held against his chest at this very moment.

you’re conscious of every inch of his arm around you, all the way out to the fingertips that dig into your hips to further secure his grip. he’s careful about it, yet knowing just fine what he’s doing, seeing as his vines travel you through the dense jungles of natlan with ease.

the chill air should feel nice against your face like this, brushing it like gentle whips, but it does nothing to cool it down. it’s still burning terribly, and your guess is that kinich can feel it too as you subconsciously nuzzle into the crook of his neck. turns out you’re right because he soon sighs,

“don’t tell me the poison’s giving you a fever.”

you definitely don’t have a fever.

you don’t try to respond back with more than a shake of your head. much to your relief, he doesn’t question it any further. just a quiet “good”, and you realize that even one word alone has a special ring to it as long as it’s spoken in his voice — the more you comprehend that fact, the more pathetic you feel. 

kinich opens his mouth, ready to speak. he doesn’t have a particular interest in scolding someone who’s injured and poisoned to the border of comatose, but this is slightly different; on his way back from a commission, he’d just happened to stumble across your miserable state; it was surprising to see someone greatly familiar with combat crouching back against a tree, heavily breathing while in desperate attempts of hiding from tribal warriors. were you on a commission of your own? or fighting an informal battle? a misunderstanding? he wasn’t sure, but watching them about to gang up on a single, damaged person — who he, on top of that, knew very well — didn’t sit right with him. before you knew it, you were no longer on dangerous ground. or any ground at all.

kinich truly is ready to speak, but nothing comes out when he suddenly feels you fisting his shirt, tightly collecting the fabric between your fingers. so, he closes his mouth, letting out a deep breath through his nose. “stop being scared. i’m not going to drop you.”

you definitely aren’t scared.

you couldn’t be, ever. you trust him, possibly a bit more than you’d like to admit, and you don’t like this type of feeling — this type of affection, one you initially thought would be softer, sweeter and kinder, only to turn out to be much more violent. it feels rather like being internally assassinated, or like having your flesh dramatically ripped apart.

you simply never expected that falling in love with someone meant exposing the most fragile pieces of yourself. 

you can’t handle that any further, so you make a meek attempt to push yourself away from him. claiming that “you don’t have to carry me all the way back,” that “i can walk on my own”, yet it doesn’t surprise you the slightest when he holds you even closer with a scoff he doesn’t even try to cover.

“if i dropped you off by your door right now, i don’t think you’d even make it to your room,” kinich sighs and for a second, in the middle of your growing exhaust, you have to wonder if you’re actually feeling his lips graze the top of your head, “so just rest until we’re there.”

[quinnyundertow]

Picking up the Pieces

For my bby Choso

MANGA SPOILERS BELOW

Angst with a happy ending, Hurt/Comfort

1,800 Words

Summary:

The fight with Sukuna has finally ended. Before he’s wisked off the battlefield the boy named Yuji begs you to try and save what’s left of his older brother.

AN:

I have been drowning in writers block. The manga has me so damn depressed and the one I want to live most right now is our baby Choso. He deserves to live that domestic life he never got to feel. Best big brother ever.

Picking up the Pieces

Choso had thought for sure he had died. No he definitely died. He had protected his little brother with his life. There wasn’t a more noble way to die. Now his brother would have the chance to thrive and grow old. Find a first love, have his first kiss, buy his first home. Have children that would have called him uncle Chocho. Never mind that Choso never had the chance to do any of those things either. Yuji would have the chance that he never did; and that made it all worthwhile.

“I’ve got you, just hold on.” Someone is talking to him. The voice is what he imagines angels sound like. Do curses get to go to heaven? Maybe death won’t be so bad. “Don’t you dare die on me.”

He’s so tired. More tired than he’s ever been in his existence. A part of him is annoyed you keep shaking him awake. Just let him rest for a minute. “Yuji needs you, so you can’t give up yet.”

Yuji? Who’s Yuji and why did he-? Yuji. Yuji! He takes a gasping breath in as his chest keeps getting harshly pushed on. He doesn’t know what CPR is but it’s painful. You keep pushing against his broken ribs. Don’t you know that’s excruciating? Wait, what about Yuji? “Yuji?” The words come out strangled and almost too low to hear.

“Holy shit you’re alive.” Your voice breaks with a mixture of relief and joy. “We're not out of the woods yet but damn it but we’ll get there!”

He tries to ask for Yuji again but all that escapes is a hacking cough from all the smoke he inhaled during his fight with Sukuna.

Thankfully, you somehow manage to understand and respond accordingly, “Oh, right. Yeah, Yuji is okay. Better than okay. Well I mean they rushed him to Shoko, our healer, but he’s gonna be okay. He’s not a vessel anymore. They won. I don’t know how they pulled it off but they won.”

The wave of relief that washes over him is visible. Your voice is coming in a little panicked now, “Woah, woah, woah! Nope! Yuji is okay but he still needs you. When they rushed him off he was asking for you. He begged me to save you. Said you’re the best big brother in the world.” Your tone warbles and his face feels wet. At least he thinks it does. Are you crying? Why are you crying? He’s a curse. You’re presumably one of Yuji’s companions, a sorcerer. Shouldn’t you want him dead? He’s straining to try and make out your features but you look like a shadow on a curtain or static on a tv. Are his eyes even open? Does it matter? He feels so nice, so warm. You’re cradling him and he can’t help but wonder if this is what his mothers love would have felt like. If his father wasn’t a rapist and if he hadn’t been born a monster.

“Shit, shit, shit. I’m losing him again!” Your voice is shrill and screaming as you wake him up again. You’re yelling names he doesn’t know, “Nitta! Nitta!” The sound is fading out. He can’t hear anything now. That’s alright. It’s perfect to go back to sleep to. He’s so warm and lovingly held. Just a little nap, well..maybe a long one. A nice long sleep.

~~

“I’ve got you, just hold on.” Your fingers keep slipping as you’re trying to do chest compressions. There’s just so much blood. The entire area reeks of it. Blood, smoke, dust. Smells of a battlefield. His pulse is so slow you’re not sure if it’s stopped or not. “Don’t you dare die on me.” This was bad. The worst you’ve ever seen. His body is so burnt and mutilated at this point he isn’t able to regenerate like a curse normally would. You try to infuse him with your cursed energy but it’s like his body doesn’t know what to do with it. It’s trying to shut down and you’re here telling it to work harder.

You can’t give up though. You’ve barely met the man in front of you but you know Yuji. As Shoko rushed Yuji off the battlefield his eyes had met yours. Choso’s name on his lips, his eyes a plea. “Please, Cho- tell him he’s the best big brother I could have asked for.”

The pain in Yuji’s eyes had been so raw. So visceral. Not even knowing what you were agreeing to you had yelled to Yuji, “I’ll do everything I can!”

So here you are. You aren’t sure if your reverse curse is even doing anything at this point. There are so many disconnected pieces of tissue. Blood vessels and veins so destroyed there is nothing left to repair. Nowhere for your technique to start. You can’t create something from nothing. He’s not breathing. Chest compressions. You’re throwing all the strength you have left into them. You vaguely remember someone saying you should push to the beat of “Staying Alive”. The song feels inappropriate in your head but it helps your timing. At least you hope it does.

The curse lying on the ground has given everything for his brother. Now you need him to live for himself. Grunting with exertion you manage to say, “Yuji needs you, so you can’t give up yet.”

When the corpse in front of you gasps you’re momentarily stunned. When are you supposed to stop chest compressions? Now? He’s hacking and you're trying to help him clear his airway. You're shocked he has an airway. Sukuna had practically obliterated him with flames. His lips are moving. You feel your cursed energy finally managed to find something inside of him it can work with.

Hands under his underarms, you pull. He’s not as heavy as you expected. Of course he isn't, he doesn't have anything left below the knees. You’ve managed to get his head resting on your thighs as you sit in the crumbling city turned battleground. He manages to croak out one word. “Yuji?” The word comes out strangled and almost too low to hear.

“Holy shit you’re alive.” Your voice breaks with a mixture of relief and joy. He would ask about his brother when he’s the one who is holding on by a thread. “We're not out of the woods yet but damn it we’ll get there!”

He’s giving this terrifying sounding cough that’s more liquid than air; but to cough means he has something there to cough with. His eyes open and his pupils are unfocused and blown. They don’t respond at all to light.

His brows are furrowing in panic when you don’t immediately respond, “Oh, right. Yeah, Yuji is okay. Better than okay. Well I mean they rushed him to Shoko, our healer but he’s gonna be okay. He’s not a vessel anymore. They won. I don’t know how they pulled it off but they won.”

His lip somehow manages to curl into a hint of a smile. He must not be able to feel any pain due to all the adrenaline. He’s relaxing against you and his eyes are closing. “Woah, woah, woah! Nope! Yuji is okay but he still needs you. When they rushed him off he was asking for you. He begged me to save you. Said you’re the best big brother in the world.” Your tone warbles and you’re yelling at yourself to hold it together. Tears fall from your visage on to his. You want to at least comfort him in his potential final moments.

Your hands go to rest on his cheeks. Your fingers lightly caressing him as you continue to give everything you have left in yourself to heal him. You brush his dark sweaty bangs off his forehead. His eyes open partially again staring into the sky. He’s rejecting your cursed energy again. “Shit, shit, shit. I’m losing him again!” You have to make an executive decision. You had been trying to give him the strength to kickstart his own regenerative capabilities but there’s not enough energy in him anymore to utilize it. You have to stop the bleeding. You have to sacrifice his legs below the knee if he’s going to survive. Rather than regrow the limbs like he normally would you focus purely on closing every open wound you can find. FUCK. Where is Shoko? Where is Arata Nitta? Someone? Anyone? There are too many wounded and dying. Not enough healers. Never enough healers.

A streak of platinum blonde hair in the distance catches your gaze, “Nitta! Nitta!” He was one of your underclassmen before you graduated. The Kyoto school is small enough to where everyone knows everyone. Nita’s looking for you in the rubble, unable to tell where your voice is coming from at first. “Arata!” His eyes lock on yours and he’s sprinting through the chaos. He looks like a track star the way he’s jumping building detritus like they’re hurdles.

He’s leaning over you trying to find where you are bleeding from but it’s all Choso’s blood. At least you think it is. “Can you help him?” Nitta’s face jerks down to what he had thought was a corpse in your arms.

He’s shaking his head no but he’s doing the movements for his technique. It won’t heal the curse hybrid but it will buy him time and at this point you’ll take anything you can get.

There’s a sharp tug in your gut as your cursed energy feels like it’s suddenly being siphoned out of you. You originally couldn’t find any of Choso’s energy to help him. Now large lifesaving gulps of your cursed energy flow into the man fighting for his life on your lap. You gasp in pain as you try to limit the amount of energy you are giving out at once. Choso’s not even conscious but instinctually his body is struggling like it’s drowning and you're the life preserver.

Nitta looks panicked, “He’s going to kill you!” You can’t afford to pass out now there are so many more people that need healing. Choso is unconsciously pulling you under with him. “This is a curse. It feeds off our kind. He’ll take from you until there’s nothing left.”

Shit. You feel like you’re going to faint. Choso’s eyelids are fluttering, they open as if seeing you for the first time. He’s clearly still delirious as his onyx eyes look at you confused. You visibly flinch, a groan in pain leaving you as he takes more of your energy. Understanding clicks in his brain and the rapid siphoning of your energy abruptly stops. Nitta is calling your name.

Nitta tries to pull you away from Choso so he can’t cling to your energy again, but you refuse to budge. You're not sure if Choso is even conscious despite his eyes jerkily roaming your face. Caressing Choso’s brow, you lean over him. Your lips are near his ear as you murmur comforting words. “I’ve got you. Everything is going to be okay.”

Chapter 2

AN:

If people want more I’ll continue. It just flowed out so here it is. Please don’t comment if you don’t have anything nice to say.

[agi-ppangx]

stranger (hwang hyunjin x gn!reader)

angst, hurt without comfort, break up, reader is in shambles

an: that's definitely not my best work so im really sorry for any mistakes >< nonetheless i hope you'll enjoy it, bc in my head the idea was pretty cool :3 also, the paragraphs written in italic are the memories, i dont know if i made it clear enough😭

“yn, don’t make it even harder,” hyunjin whispered as he glanced at your face. you must’ve looked truly pathetic - the tears were making their way down your red, puffy face and you were sobbing loudly. you couldn’t believe what had just happened - did he really break up with you or was it just a bad dream?

“hyune- baby, please, i-” you stuttered, gasping for air in between sobs.

“i’ve made my decision. goodbye, yn.” with that he closed the door, leaving you on the floor of your apartment. your vision was blurry and you were too weak to even get up. that day you fell asleep on the floor by the entrance, foolishly hoping that hyunjin would come back to you.

you recalled the memory, stepping out of the shower. it was the first time in a week when you decided to take care of yourself after hyunjin broke up with you. it’d been a hard week, but you couldn’t remember much anyway. the only thing you knew was the pain in your chest as if your heart was ripped from your body.

you didn’t bother to put on any clothes or to brush your damp hair since you headed straight to bed. you dropped your tired, achy body on the messy beddings and you shivered. it’d been raining for the past few days and you wondered if the sun had peeked into your bedroom through the curtains and told the clouds to match your mood so you wouldn’t feel lonely. you curled yourself into a ball, placing your hands on your shoulders as the raindrops pattered softly on your window. tap, tap, tap, the rhythm of the rain made your finger move faintly against your shoulder and suddenly the memories flooded your brain.

you felt someone tapping your shoulder and you yelped, blushing instantly as you realised you made too much noise in the library.

“sorry! sorry, i just-” the boy started hesitantly, whisper-yelling the apology. “are going to use that book?” he pointed to the textbook you were holding firmly in your hands. you nodded.

“oh, okay, sorry for bothering you!” he said with a frown and started walking away.

“wait! you can join me if also need it,” you suggested with a shy smile and he stopped in his tracks, turning around to you with a grin.

your hand wandered down your body, stopping at the waist. you squeezed it once, just like hyunjin used to do. a few tears made their way down your face.

“we passed!” hyunjin exclaimed as he ran to you with a piece of paper in his hand. you grinned at him as he stopped right in front of you, proudly showing you his score.

“congrats, hyune! are you going to-” you started but never finished as he suddenly grabbed your waist and picked you up, spinning you around, and you giggled. when he put you down he still firmly held your waist with one hand, squeezing it.

“let’s go and eat something, hm? my treat,” he said and you just smiled, letting him lead the way.

you squeezed your eyes, loud sobs now leaving your body as you remembered how happy you two used to be together. the rain outside intensified, turning into a downpour, and it made you feel even worse. “stop crying” you thought. “show the sun you’re okay so the clouds won’t have to suffer anymore.”

you moved your hand to wipe your wet cheek, but you just rested it there, suddenly remembering how hyunjin used to cradle your face.

“look, i can hold the whole world in my hands,” he whispered, looking you deeply in the eyes as his hands held your cheeks. you blushed and playfully hit him in the arm.

“stop being cheesy,” you whined, dropping your eyes because hyunjin’s gaze was too piercing for you. he giggled at your words and kissed your forehead.

“i just really love you, you know?” he then said and you hid your red face in the crook of his neck, breathing his cologne and relaxing completely as his arms protected you from the outside world. in that moment you felt complete.

a long wail left your body. it hurt, it hurt so much you thought you weren’t going to make it. what was left for you anyway? there was no one who could hug you after a long day, no one who could wait for you with warm dinner, no one who loved you.

you brought your hand to your hair, desperately trying to comb through them as hyunjin used to whenever you felt too overwhelmed. you grazed your nails on your scalp, imitating his movements, but it only increased the pain. you didn’t know how to treat yourself anymore - you gave all of you to hyunjin and as he left he took your heart with him, leaving you with the void that nothing and no one could ever fill again.

you wrapped your arms around your body again, squeezing yourself as hard as you could, but you soon realised only hyunjin could embrace you tightly enough for all the broken parts of you to fall back into place. with the day he left you you became a stranger to yourself.

taglist !

@lynlyndoll @iyenbread @flooo71 @skz-streamer @inniescandy-01 @hannahhbahng @prettymiye0n @ggsez31 @laylasbunbunny @like-a-diamondinthesky @axel-skz @kittymaryam-thebrowniefairy @l3visbby @skzhoes

[justabiteofspite]

WIP Wednesday

Was tagged throughout the past few weeks by @inkymoonbunny, @xxnashiraxx, @preciouslittlebhaalbae, and @verbenaa, so here's a hefty piece of lonely reflective Ascended Astarion angst since I didn't post anything last week.

Just for context, this is a Bad Ending AU set years after the brain where my Durge, Henri left A!A before being turned into a spawn, going off by herself to become a famous bard and has only just now returned to perform at Astarion's engagement party to an important elven figure as part of his political strategy. So this is him reflecting back on their relationship before talking to her for the first time in a long time.

When was the last time he had bedded her? They had been taking a break from the activity because his former self couldn’t handle it, the weakling. Astarion couldn’t help but wonder if that was a reason she ended up leaving after all. Even with his power he couldn’t fix himself fast enough. If she had let him bed her the night after he ascended, surely he could have gotten her to stay. Fix the times before that where he’d been out to use her and she had seen right through it. “It wasn’t difficult, you know, to see that whatever it was that you wanted out of this, it wasn’t me. Well, more than what I could provide. And you were clear that these nights together were just us having fun, nothing serious. I liked you beyond that but I didn’t know how quickly these urges were going to escalate. So why not go along with it and pretend? I get to experience a bit of life I’m not going to get to otherwise. And you’d move on to some pretty elf after we get to Baldur’s Gate where you have more options. I wouldn’t be leaving someone behind hurting after I needed to be...put down.” “Well, you’re not getting put down like some sick dog, for one, so let’s agree on that first,” Astarion snapped, feeling like he was going to vomit, “We are killing whatever this is and freeing you just like we’re killing Cazador. Alright?” She smiled softly, her eyes glassy, “Alright.” “Second, some pretty elf? Really? I’m already a pretty elf, my dear, why introduce competition? Where the hells did that come from anyway? Don’t tell me you think you’re unattractive in any sense of the word.” “Oh, I know I’m attractive just...you don’t seem to care for tieflings in general and between that and me looking like I walked off an autopsy table I thought I was more of a novelty item than anything else.” “Well, you’re not. So, there.” Gods he’d made a mess. “And as soon as I figure all this nonsense out, we’re redoing all your firsts with me. Properly this time. Real. Because I never want to make you feel like that again.” But Astarion never had the chance to fulfill his promise. And now he’d gotten himself a pretty elf and Henri was stuck with those memories of him using her.

No pressure tags: @elinorbard, @batbuska, @ladyduellist, @roguishcat, @tealfling

(If you already wrote something, feel free to just tag me in it!)

[vallification]

“womanly advice” // JJK AU

incl: satoru gojo, suguru geto, nanami kento, choso kamo (all separate)

content: angst, hurt, comfort, jealousy, unrequited feelings, drinking, flirting! no established relationship/pre-relationship.

wc: 3.4k

please like, reblog, and tell me your thoughts!!!

satoru gojo

you sway to the music pouring from the bar speakers, pressed against other warm bodies on every side, caught in the middle of the dance floor. shoko is pressed against your front, and her movements are abnormally stiff and laggy despite the copious amount of whisky and coke flowing through her veins. following her line of sight, your eyes land on the bar where gojo sits with geto at his side, both hunched over and whispering to each other animatedly. shoko’s expression is a mix of curiosity, concern, and confusion, but she continues to dance with you despite being distracted.

“what’s going on?” you ask, your voice slightly raised so she can hear you over the music once she tears her eyes away from the pair of boys at the bar. she maneuvers herself around to face you and brings her lips to your ear so she doesn’t have to be as loud, and says one word: “you.”

it’s said so plainly, but it almost sobers you up with how much that one simple word shocks your system.

your eyes widen in confusion, eyebrows stitching together as you pull back to look at her face. you search for any indication that she’s joking, that she doesn’t actually know what the problem is, that she’s just teasing you, but you come up short. shoko raises her perfectly maintained eyebrows in a knowing look, as if you should know exactly what she means, but your silence tells her that you know nothing of the sort. thin eyebrows raise impossibly higher on shoko’s forehead as a metaphorical nudge in the right direction, which is met with your unwavering, lost stare. her expression now matches yours, contorted in confusion, and she pulls you aside from the sea of bodies.

“are you playing dumb right now?” shoko asks, both of her hands planted firmly on your shoulders. you shake your head and try to look back at gojo and geto, as if you might be able to piece everything together with context clues, but shoko forces you to keep looking at her. “be for real with me right now. are you stupid?”

“is this about me not texting him back the other day? because we talked about it and i thought he was just being dramatic, i didn’t think he was actually upset at me,” you ramble, bewildered at the notion that gojo was actually that hurt at your “improper text etiquette.” jaw hanging slack as you talk, shoko mirrors your state of bewilderment, wondering how you got this far in life while being so oblivious. “i mean, he’s an adult man, shoko, i don’t know what you want me to do about—"

“oh my god.”

“what?” you bark, your patience spreading too thin to keep playing contextual tug-of-war with shoko, who says nothing before disappearing into the crowd.

now that you’re alone, confused, and frustrated, the dance floor loses all of its appeal and you accept your new position against the wall. you find a little bit of comfort in your glass, which is still half full despite its time in your hand as you danced. the ice has melted, watering down the fiery contents of the glass, but you bring it to your lips and nurse it anyway. it’s a pitiful attempt to get back to your prior level of drunkenness, because you don’t want to face this right now. not sober, at least.

what was “this,” anyway? “this” was the fact that you gave gojo exact instructions on how to successfully woo someone else and you were sick over it. looking at him made you sick, laughing with him made you sick, being around him made you sick; it made you sick to think that there was someone he wanted so bad that it threw him off his game. that was why you were avoiding him. there was no way that you were ever that someone, and that hurt. it was easier to withdraw from gojo prematurely than to sit and wait for whoever that someone was to take your place.

it's juvenile, and it’s shameful, and it’s not something a true friend would do, but you can’t help it. you didn’t think it would hurt his feelings, but by the time you noticed how close you two were it was too late. he knew your coffee order, your morning routine at work, your bed time, your weekend schedule, and you knew his. guilt (or alcohol) stakes its claim in your chest, uncomfortable and heavy, and your throat starts to feel tight, and you can feel your eyes start to brim with tears, and you need to get out of here.

once you leave the bar, you manage to get fifty feet down the sidewalk before you hear the door open, and you hope that it’s not gojo with every fiber of your being. from behind you, you can hear him calling your name, the alcohol, shoko, and geto prohibiting him from straying too far from the bar in his effort to search for you. you keep your back turned to him out of embarrassment, not because of him, but because you don’t want him or anyone else seeing you cry.

gojo finds the opportunity to break out of the two pairs of hands grasping the back of his white shirt and takes it, his long, drunkenly-wobbling legs sprinting down the side walk to you. he grabs your forearm to spin you around, desperate for you to face him, but you yank it out of his hand and hold it up to hail a taxi instead.

“come on, don’t do that,” gojo pleads, his words slurring together like wet ink smudged on a page.

“stop,” you say, commanding your voice to be as steady and calm as you can manage while being upset. he throws his arms up in exasperation at your reaction.

“it’s you!”

you spin around when he says that, and while a big part of you would love to believe that, there’s a sea of women who feel exactly the same way. you bridge the gap between the two of you and meet his eyes with your own, pointing up at him.

“that’s fucked, satoru. don’t say shit like that. that’s seriously fucked,” chastising him, you search his glossy, striking blue eyes for that familiar teasing look, but you don’t find it. you wish that you did. gojo’s face twists up in an inebriated amalgamation of bewilderment, confusion, and frustration.

“how is that—what? how is that fucked? it’s fucked that i’m being honest?”

“you’re not, and that’s why it’s fucked, satoru. that’s—why would you say that?” you scoff, and like an angel sent from whatever heaven awaits you, a taxi rolls up to the curb. throwing open the door, you can hear gojo frustratedly begging you not to get in, to wait, to talk to him, but you get in anyway.

as the cab drives away, you turn around in the backseat, and watch gojo crouch down on the sidewalk as the distance between you grows further.

suguru geto

from where you sit a few barstools down, you watch geto tie up his long, dark hair, leaving the view of his face completely unobstructed. even in the dim light, you can see the skin of his face and neck flushing pink, glistening with the lightest layer of sweat, courtesy of the stuffy atmosphere of the bar and the alcohol flowing through his veins. he’s laughing at whatever story gojo’s telling, and he looks and sounds so beautiful that it feels criminal to even think about looking away from him.

in your drunk, awe-stricken state, you want to chastise yourself for the time you spent moping about geto’s feelings for someone else, the time you spent ignoring him, and the time you spent groveling with jealousy over whoever geto’s got his eyes on. to you, there’s no conceivable way that whoever they may be is lucky enough to have this view—it’s seriously flawed rationale, but you won’t remember that thought when you sober up.

at some point between geto tying his hair up and now, gojo had wandered off to talk to strangers and shoko had wandered off to flirt with the hot bartender, leaving the two of you alone. you pull yourself from your trance to play off your staring problem, looking around the place a few times before settling your eyes on the neon sign hanging from the ceiling above the front door. he’s already caught you, though, and you hear his low laugh as he slides into the seat next to you.

“you okay?” he says, his smooth voice thick and sweet in your ears like caramel. all you can manage is a nod, still looking anywhere but at geto. to prevent yourself from saying something idiotic, you bring your drink to your lips, sipping at it slowly and relishing the burn it spreads through your chest. you can feel his eyes on you, his gaze ever-so intense, seemingly unfazed by your avoidance. it almost feels like he enjoys that you can’t meet his eyes. “you mad at me?”

“no,” you manage to murmur into your glass. you glance at him from the side of your eyes, and you praise yourself for looking away earlier while you had the chance. geto’s eyes are nearly half-lidded, his usually silky brown irises now shaded almost black in the dim light of the bar, and god, you feel like a pitiful deer at the mercy of a hungry tiger. there’s something about the way he’s looking at you that makes you want to spill everything you’ve ever thought or felt about him in a pathetic effort to make him stop looking at you like that.

“what’s the matter then?”

“pffft, nothing, i’m just—” you gesture vaguely around you to the dingy bar before throwing back the last of your drink, flinching as it goes down. “i’m just doing this. which, y’know, means nothing is the matter at all. in fact, i don’t think i’ve ever felt better. so—"

“look at me,” geto interrupts your rambling, and you look at him immediately. he’s got you exactly where you didn’t want to be, because you’re not sure you have the strength to defy anything he asks of you now that his eyes have yours locked in place. your eyes only leave his when they flick down to his lips, which look impossibly soft when he speaks again, beckoning to you like a siren would a sailor. “i miss you.”

for several seconds, he just stares at you, and you can almost feel the friction of his eyes dragging over your face—once, twice, three times, over your lips—before they lock back onto your own. you feel like a loser, frozen in place, unable to control your own body as geto pins you in place with something so simple as eye contact. in the back of your mind, you weigh the probabilities of what his intentions are: is he messing with you for fun, or is he into this? you pay no attention to which way the scales tip, you’re on autopilot, mentally scrambling to gather every last bit of self-control you have and standing up.

“i have to call my mom right now,” you blurt, and your jellified legs carry you out of the building and down the sidewalk as far as they can manage.

nanami kento

if you weren’t a coward, you’d admit that the reason for the heavy feeling that hangs on your shoulders is nanami’s admitted affection for someone else, but since you are a coward, you blame it on the monotony of your life. that wasn’t exactly a lie; you have settled into a comfortable routine, and although it’s nice to feel so stable, it’s lonely and lifeless.

sometimes you wonder if you’re too strict with your dating criteria, but every time you reevaluate your standards, there is nothing that sticks out as unattainable. not that it would matter, though, because you know exactly who you want. but he doesn’t want you. rationally, you’re not sure why he would want you (even if the other person wasn’t in the picture), because outwardly, you’re nanami’s opposite. you’re quicker to humor than you are stoicism, you’re louder than you are quiet, and you could be a lot more mild-mannered than you are.

it wasn’t like you were the type to feel worthless because you’re single; you’ve been single for several years now, and it didn’t phase you until you started getting closer to nanami. he was something out of a storybook, a fairy tale even, and you can still feel the devastation you first felt when he asked you how to win someone else over.

your mind drones on and on down the pathetic, beaten path of self-pity as you browse through the store’s selection of glittering necklaces and earrings. the glass countertops of the display cases are spotless, scratchless, and shiny, perfectly showcasing the expensive jewelry inside, resting peacefully atop red velvet pillows. retail therapy helped distract you when you felt sorry for yourself, at least. there were few experiences that matched the feeling of buying something new to take your mind off of your sad reality.

in the display case below, you spot something simple but gorgeous: a white solitaire diamond necklace with a thin, yellow gold chain. it’s got the perfect price tag, too, in the range where you won’t feel too guilty for buying it, but the purchase will still scratch the itch that retail therapy feeds on. before you can ask for a closer look, an inexplicably familiar scent washes over your senses. oud, sandalwood, amber, something peppery and warm—it’s something you relish each time it makes itself known, and it’s so distinctly nanami that you whip your head around to search for him.

the familiar blond scans the contents of the various displays, dressed impeccably as usual, but without the watch that habitually decorates his wrist. he looks regal, in a way, and you wonder what life would look like standing next to him, clutching his arm, willfully ignorant to the rest of the world… the watch. you try to think back to earlier in the day when you saw him, if you saw the watch, but then you remember how you dodged him each time he appeared. it makes you feel a little guilty, but he was probably grateful for it. a twinge of sadness follows that thought.

you lower your eyes back down to the solitaire necklace and half-heartedly attempt to block out the alluring scent of nanami’s cologne, but it’s no use. from the edge of your vision, you watch him recognize you, weigh his options, and then begin to approach you, so you try to discreetly fix your face into a more pleasant one.

“hey,” nanami says, taking the place at your side. the ease in his voice is almost jarring juxtaposed against the usual tone he took at work, and you mentally curse him for it, because it doesn’t help your case in the slightest. you try to fight the schoolgirl smile growing on your face, but it wins easily once you look up to greet him.

“hey, nanami. what are you doing here?” you ask, despite wishing you didn’t, so you could go back to feeling sorry for yourself in peace. that’s not really true, though, is it? no, not when he smiles down at you, a smile you’ve only seen grace his sharp features once or twice before. the feeling that follows in your chest could only be the work of butterflies. you hope you aren’t blushing, but the familiar warmth settles on your cheeks anyway and betrays your wishes.

nanami lifts his suited forearm and twists his wrist, signaling the absence of his usual watch, “well, i had to get my watch cleaned, so i’m here to pick it up. i get it cleaned every six months, and i like looking around while i’m here.” his usually tired brown eyes seem to sparkle down at you, and you feel like he’s casting some sort of heart palpitation spell on you. “can I ask what you’re doing here?”

“oh, y’know, just some retail therapy,” you laugh, wondering if that will disguise the near-breathlessness in your voice. he leans down to get a better view of the necklace in front of you, humming in approval at its design.

“it’s beautiful. I saw you looking at it before I came over here, I think you should get it,” nanami says, his sparkly brown eyes locking on yours as he returns upright again. “you’d look beau—”

as an associate interrupts nanami about his watch, you use this window of opportunity to book it out of the store. your eyes are wide, your cheeks pink, your heart racing at the proximity and sincerity of your short conversation with prince charming. there was no conceivable reality where, if that conversation was resumed, you didn’t make a fool of yourself. later, you’ll kick yourself for it, but you’re a coward a heart.

the necklace ended up in good hands.

choso kamo

friday movie nights at choso’s apartment were a cherished tradition for the two of you. well, the five of you now, if you count yuji, nobara, and megumi, who preferred friday nights at choso’s because he was a bit less intrusive than gojo was when they stayed at megumi’s. yuji’s father gifted him a big fabric binder of blockbuster movie DVDs that yuji was adamant about watching all of, which of course bled into friday movie nights. funnily enough, the three teenagers never made it through the last movie of the night, always ending up in a sleepy pile on the floor.

choso sits opposite of you on the couch with the neckline of his hoodie pulled up over his mouth, completely absorbed in the movie playing on the screen. you’ve already seen it before, so you only pay attention in bits and pieces, with the spaces in between dedicated to watching choso from the corner of your eye. sometimes you wonder if he does the same, but you never catch him in the act. his hair is down, pushed away from his face since its free from its usual twin confinements, and you wonder if whatever girl he likes has seen him this way.

you wonder if she’s sat on his couch watching movies, or slept in his bed because she was too tired to drive home. you wonder if she’s worn his shirts and boxers after taking a shower in his bathroom, or if she’s done the dishes with him after making a mess in his kitchen. heat rises in your face as jealousy rears its ugly head in your stomach, and while you watch him from the side of your vision, you pray to whatever will listen that you stay the only person who can say they’ve done any of that.

choso’s oblivious to your feelings on the other end of the couch. it almost makes you angry at him.

you wonder who she is. you wonder what she looks like. you wonder if she’s as mean and nasty as you are when you’re jealous.

one thing you’ve always hated about yourself is that you never fail to cry when you get upset. it doesn’t matter if you’re sad, or mad, or frustrated, or jealous, it’s almost certain that your throat tightens like it’s wrapped in barbed wire, and your eyes begin to well with hot, fat, pathetic tears. those tears almost always fall before you can catch them, and the choked down, heaving breaths almost always make a sound before you can silence them.

choso is your best friend, and he is no longer oblivious to your feelings on the other end of the couch. ish.

he sits up, his dark eyebrows stitched together in concern when he notices the tear that sits on your cheek, shining in the light cast by the movie on the screen. choso places a big, calloused, comforting hand on the bare skin of your knee as he tries to figure out the source of your upset, but he doesn’t find one. you flinch unnaturally at his touch, but he doesn’t move his hand.

“are you okay? what’s wrong?”

“the- I’m- it’s just the movie,” you fumble, your whispering voice warbled by your tears. the movie in question? superbad. choso gives you a funny look, his eyes flicking between your crying face and the screen, only becoming more concerned from there.

“are you on your period?” he asks, and you bring your hands up to wipe at your eyes as you start to laugh at his question.

“you’re not supposed to ask girls that, choso,” you fake-scold, which makes him laugh too. however, he’s still concerned, because you’re still teary-eyed.

choso wiggles his way over to you, now sitting on the couch in the proper position with your legs slung over his lap. one of his strong arms snakes its way behind you to pull you closer to his chest until he’s semi-holding you, resting his chin on top of your head. you try to reel your tears back in, but once you’re pulled to his chest, the entire dam breaks and you start to cry as silently as you can manage so you don’t wake the sleeping pile of teenagers.

“what’s wrong?” choso whispers, holding you as tightly as he can in this position. he’d held you while you cried before, but it was never like this. there was always a reason known to him, something obvious, but there isn’t this time. he wonders if it’s connected to your weird behavior this week, or if you’re depressed, or—he doesn’t know, but something must have happened.

“you can tell me,” he murmurs when you say nothing, frowning at the way you seem to sob a little harder after he says that.

“no, I can’t,” you whisper through your fingers. choso pulls back, just enough to see your face, confused by your response.

“why not? you always tell me everything.”

you bite your bottom lip to try and make it stop quivering, and you shake your head, burying your face back in choso’s chest. his chin resumes its rightful place on top of your head, but he’s still as confused as ever. choso says nothing this time, holding you in silence.

twenty minutes pass, only filled by the sound of rolling movie credits and soft sobs that devolve into the occasional sniffle. your arms are now wrapped around choso’s torso, weakly clinging to him as he holds you halfway in his lap.

“can I sleep like this, sir?” you whisper, your voice wavering, on the edge of tears again as you do a pathetic salute. you don’t know if you’ll ever be able to sleep like this again. choso laughs and maneuvers the two of you so that he’s in more of a reclined position, kicking his feet up on the couch without compromising your place in his arms.

“yeah, of course, ma’am.”

a/n: i have been writing this for 7 hours. you better like it or else. i'm jp but the smau will resume with this context for the next update :)

[safedistancefrombeingsmart]

What did John say in his letter to Sherlock? We never find out and I regularly wonder what John could have written. Here's my version of John's letter.

(Also, this is my 1st time writing anything, so this is a bit nerve- wracking stressful. Not a native speaker, not beta'd/ britpicked, and so on.)

Warnings: nothing too bad, just a bit lot of angst.

Broken

You broke me, Sherlock. You broke me in so many ways and I don't know if I can ever recover from it.

I have been damaged before. By Mum and Dad, by Harry. Bit by bit, piece by piece I rebuild myself, every time. Then came Afghanistan and it broke me more than anything before, inside and out. It took away my career, my future and I was certain that I could never fix what the war took from me. I was ready to end it all, on my own terms.

But then I met you and to my surprise you could repair what I could not, not on my own. You gave me purpose and brought back joy to my life. I felt alive. Needed. Happy. I don't think I've ever been this happy before, and I am sure I never will be again. I was convinced that you would never do anything to harm my happiness. But you did.

You broke me, shattered me when you jumped off that damn roof. You crushed my heart into a million pieces when you leapt into inevitable death, when I saw your skull cracked open and your dead eyes and the blood. So much blood. I didn't know that it was just a magic trick. A lie. Why did you have to lie to me, Sherlock? Not trust me enough to take me with you? I would have gone everywhere with you, done everything for you. Everything. I think that's what hurt the most. You not trusting me. I trusted you. With everything I had. And you broke that trust by not trusting me.

I don't know how I managed not to fling myself off that same roof. Oh, I've thought about it. Many, many times. But I couldn't do it. I couldn't do this to Mrs. H. or Greg who had already lost a son (or close enough) and a friend. I could not be that selfish. Yes, I thought you were a selfish bastard. Doing that to us. To me. Even made me watch. Cruel doesn't even come close to describe what you did. Did you know that I don't dream about Afghanistan anymore? I dream about your Fall and the cracked skull and the dead eyes and the blood. And how I failed to save you. You never needed saving, but I didn't know that and it haunts me to this day.

I don't know what Mary saw in me. I was a grieving, broken man with no purpose. But she insisted that she liked me and I couldn't convince her that I wasn't worth her time. She distracted me from the grief and in a way she saved me, not unlike you did when we first met.

And then you came back. And I should have been happy, right? The miracle I had asked for so many times. But you treated your return like a joke, like it didn't matter -like I didn't matter- and you ridiculed me and something else inside me broke and this time I broke something of yours in return. Sorry about the nose, but I was so FUCKING angry and you kept talking and you kept being an enormous prick and it made me so angry.

Mary thought she talked me around, to see you again, to talk to you again. The truth is: I needed no one to talk me around. I could have never stayed away from you for too long. As soon as (most of) my anger had vanished,  I was drawn back to you like a moth to the light. And I thought that, maybe, I could be happy again. With you AND Mary by my side. And a little girl on the way.

And then you got shot and I nearly lost you. Again. My heart shattered to pieces, again, while I waited for news at the hospital. And as if it wasn't bad enough with you nearly dying, it was bloody Mary who tried to break me this time by breaking you. How could you not see who she really was? The world's only Consulting Detective and the smartest man I have ever known, and you didn't bloody know??? I could not leave her, not with Rosie on the way. I didn't want my little girl to grow up without a father. I promised her to be a better father than my own and I could never break this promise. Not before she was even born. But you made me break that promise. You didn't pull the trigger, that day in the aquarium, but you might have as well. You SWORE to protect Mary so my little girl would have a mother and she still died. I cannot care for Rosie, not on my own. I can barely take care of myself.

I am a broken man, Sherlock, I am not the man I want to be. Not anymore. I am a washed up soldier and doctor, a single father who can't take care of his daughter, a son and brother being only 1 step away from following his father's and sister's footsteps and becoming a full blown alcoholic.

I can't be near you anymore. Not until I get better. And I don't know if I ever can. I do not trust myself, with all the anger and sadness and guilt and broken promises. Maybe this time I am broken beyond repair.

Do not contact me. Do not follow me. Do not spy on me (same goes for you, Mycroft!). Don't even think about me. Do not! Sherlock, I mean it. This time it has to be my way, not yours.

I don't know when I can bear to see you again, if I can bear to ever see you again. And this thought breaks whatever is left of my already broken heart.

John

(AO3 link)

[maxs-deactivated]

Old vinyls.

Pairing: Joel Miller x reader.

Summary: Joel's feelings bloomed even before the outbreak. 20 years, a lot of losses and survival later, he finally finds one of his missing pieces. A Joel Miller one shot.

A/N: bro I have NO IDEA of when I actually wrote this, I just remember it taking me a few days to finish, and I never posted it bc I tought it was bad, but now I reread this and OH MY FUCKING GOD THIS IS WONDERFUL?! Hope you guys like it as much as I did :)

Warnings: hurt/comfort, crying, soft Joel, drinking, swearing, lil bit of angst, happy ending, this thing is long af, it's been a long while since I watched the show/saw anything about the game so it might be a little out of character or just "off" in general, there's not really any mentions of gender for reader so here you go my fellow non binaries :D

Anyways, let's get to the fic.

You knew Joel.

Before the outbreak he was a single father, a very caring and loving one. Being his neighbor meant seeing him every now and then, being that type of colleague you see once in a while and say hi.

At least for the other neighbors.

You, in the other hand, was much more close than that.

To start with the fact that Tommy was your best friend, you two met at high school and became inseparable, so naturally you would know his brother, Joel, and his niece, Sarah. You always lived there, nearby, so it was normal for you to hang out with both brothers whenever you could and even take care of Sarah when Joel would come home late from work. You knew her since she was born and, hell, she was almost part of your family too.

Not that you would admit it out loud though. But you really cared for her, and for her father.

As you grew closer to Tommy, you grew inevitably closer to Joel as well. Since you met him you knew he was a cool guy, respectful but yet playful, not like the guys you met before that only talked about hooking up and making out, no, Joel was gentle and friendly and, when you know him, talkative. It always drew your attention how he looked after Tommy and, later on, Sarah. it was endearing to see.

When Sarah was 12, you moved in the house right next to Joel's, wich was the number one reason you became so close to him.

Oftenly you picked Sarah from school and had her sleep in your house because Joel would come home late, always recieving an apologizing look and a shy smile the morning after when he would come to take her home and, oh! How you loved that smile.

To "pay his debt" (as he liked to say) he'd take you out to some bar or a restaurant whenever Sarah went on a sleepover at a friend's house, and you two always ended up sitting on the corner just sipping on your drinks and talking about life, giving each other advice, sharing life experiences, and above all having a good time. He'd also not drink any alcohol just to drive you home safe, and refuse to listen to any of your protests.

One night you were at a restaurant, on the other side of the city, talking like always and Joel laughed at something you said, genuinely laughed. And that was when you realized you had fell in love with the man, you were always giving him those looks and scarlet cheeks without even noticing, until this night came and changed everything, you were now aware of every little glance, casual touch, any smile and laugh he gives you, you were drunk i this feeling.

But Joel? Oh, he already knew that for so long.

The moment for him was when you came to lunch with him and Sarah at his house, something around a year before. You helped him cook the meal, wich made him notice how much better that dish tasted with your touch to it whether it being just your presence or the ingredients you put, he wasn't quite sure yet.

After you all ate, you sat on the couch and Sarah suggested to put on some music, and right after that start looking through Joel's vinil collection. Let's say she knew what she was doing, first she put on some rock, Gun's and Roses, just in the ambience as you both talked and she washed the dishes. After that she found the vinil Joel had bought only and exclusively because you recommended from a band you really like, you say it reminds you of home, as your father used to play those songs all the time.

He watched as your eyes went wide with a look of excitement when realization washed over you, the melody forcing you to your feet and pulling Sarah. You rocked back and forth, dancing with the teenage girl, as you sang with the most wonderful voice you ever had.

The sparkle in your eyes mixed with Sarah's laughs and the vibe of the song made him realize how much of a wonderful person you are. Always kind to other and wiling to go out of your way to help someone, your charming personality and your unique style, oh! How much he loved that.

Joel not only saw your gorgeous features but also you, the real you. That is scared of thunders, that loves music, that cooks like a chef and have those little quirks and mannerisms he picked up unconsciously, all of that drove him out of his mind and he loved the feeling of loving you, it made him feel alive. Of course seeing how much Sarah likes you too and the way you're so caring towards her just makes it clear: you're the one for him.

Joel's drunk into it since that day. Every time you wave at him from your yard, every time he takes you to these restaurants and bars, when he sees you in his passanger seat, and the fact you just grow more and more admirable to him... It only makes him want you even more, it makes him want to be the one to treat you right after seeing so many partners destroy you. He'd glue pice by piece if needed.

Talking of bars... In one of those times you two went out, you decided to leave the bar you were at and go back to Joel's place. The food at the bar was absurdly expensive and your stomachs were grumbling way too loud for you to just spend the rest of the night there.

Once you got to his house, he made two sandwiches for the both of you and you ate slowly, never losing the topic you were talking about. When you two finished, Joel went to wash the dishes and once again you decided to put on some music.

Looking through his vinils you saw one you also had, a very very old one, dated in the 40's/50's. It started to spin and a few songs into it, it started playing one you really liked: 'Cheek to Cheek - Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong'. By that time Joel had already finished, he walked into the living room still wiping his hands with a towel when you started swaying around to the calm yet enthusiastic beat.

Moving your hips, you felt the melody entering your body and giving you the best feeling of peace. For Joel you looked ethereal in such form, unworried and calm.

A tought crossed his mind and he acted on it before the opportunity scaped. Joel approached you behind your back as you still had your eyes shut closed, feeling yourself through the song, he then placed his right hang on your waist testing the waters. First he had to know if you were okay with that, little did he know you were melting inside, unable to come up with something to do or say in that moment, so you just kept going, like nothing was happening.

As you didn't show any sign of discomfort or didn't flinch from his touch, he placed the left hand on the assigned place on your waist like it was supposed to be there for so long. Now becoming more comfortable, he swayed with you and came even closer, with that your hands automatically went to his, guiding them lower to your hips.

It felt like a dream for the both of you, and of course you wouldn't ruin it with any obvious comment, so you just accepted each other's presences and enjoyed it.

By the middle of the song you kept your hands in his as you turned to face him, still dancing lightly.

Joel looked into your beautifully colored irises and saw the contentment, making him bloom a smile of his own. As you also stared at his honey eyes you placed your arms on both sides of his head, lightly and gently wrapping your fingers around the back of his neck.

Ever so slowly you approached each other unconsciously, ending up doing exactly what the music says, dancing cheek to cheek.

In a few moments you pulled back, just to look at him in the eyes again, now you saw the desire and all the unspoken words and your eyes dropped to his mouth, slightly open and awaiting for what comes next. Yet you decided to speak up before things got confusing.

"I, uhm..." You start, looking down "I really like you Joel, and I don't mean just as a friend or in a way to get this situation to increase... I really do like you, and I have for a time now" now you look into his eyes again.

Joel seems surprised, probably much more because you had the courage to say it first than with the actual statemente, he already suspected your feelings. He opened his mouth a few times, looking for the best words to not fuck this up.

Before starting he let out a relieved breath "when I'm with you I feel alive" he let's out "You make my days a little bit brighter and you bring the colors of love back into my life" Joel laughs "gosh, I'm not even good with words but for you I have practiced this speech for so long... Waiting for the day I would be able to call you mine".

His gaze soft yet eager for you, analyzing every reaction of yours, he's been waiting for so long, poor man. While you're still processing what he just said.

"then do it, I've been your's for so long already" you breath out, coming closer again, but thus time your lips finally touch.

After that, what I can say is that your relationship is solid as rock, you love each other so much and absolutely no one can get into it, you are inseparable.

... Well, at least you thought.

A few days before the outbreak it was your father's birthday and you couldn't just not see him like the past two years, you decided to visit him, perfect timing for disaster.

As the snow falls outside the window of your house in Jackson, you remember it all like it was yesterday...

"Are you sure you don't want to come with me?" - you ask Joel as you hold onto his jacket. He just returns with a chuckle.

"C'mon! There's still time! You go home, pack your's and Sarah's things and I buy you two tickets, what do you think?" - you try again.

"You know I can't just leave everything behind, love. Sarah has school and I'm about to take that project" - Joel plants a kiss to your temple.

You're disappointed but not surprised, you alredy knew he couldn't come with you, but something within told you to push him and Sarah into that bus with you. Maybe it was just the idea of being three weeks away from your boyfriend, but there was still a bad feeling in you that you can't seem to get rid of.

He locks eyes with you, his honey eyes always seemed the things to calm you down don't matter what happened, and he opened his mouth to say something but the words never came out, you decide to talk then.

"I know love, I just... Have a bad feeling, you know?" - you sigh, looking to the ground then back at him.

"I'll miss you a lot" - you confess.

His gaze softens, with his hands wrapped around your face he leans to a kiss, that is interrupted by an announcement on the speakers, saying your bus was waiting.

Joel gives you one last peck on the lips before pulling you into his embrace. The man is not very good with words, you know that, so this is his way of saying 'I'll miss you too'.

When you pull back, his big brown eyes are filled with unshed tears, sight that make your own set water up. Painfully you break free from his grip, slowly walking away as the tears rolled down both of your cheeks.

...

When you first came to Jackson and you saw Tommy again after 20 years, you had talked to him about... Well, over all everything that happened but mostly what happened to Joel.

But Tommy isn't dumb, he knows who you are even after 20 years apart, he knows if he ever tells you where Joel is you would go flying to him in the same instant, but with all those ridlers and infected around he couldn't handle the idea of letting you go, even more after just reuniting with his biggest friend. He won't risk it.

When you two sat and talked, you asked him if he knew where Joel was, but Tommy shrugged, said in a breath that he just didn't talk to him for a long time and, as Joel is, he probably didn't stay in the same place for too long.

He also tol you about Sarah... With a painful voice he told you how he just watched as he lost his niece and his brother on the same night, because Joel just... Wasn't the same anymore, he changed, he did things (but Tommy never told what things)... Joel isn't the same man you met 20 years ago.

"Well, I didn't expect him to be the same" - that's what you told him, gaining a pitiful gaze from your friend.

Tommy feels pity for you, he thinks you're so lost in the world, and that you need for a purpose so bad, you will chase down any opportunity to go back to that old life of yours. You told him it wasn't about it but of couse he never listened, he just wished for you to wake up to reality, wich in his mind was, that you are now safe, in a place you can live the rest of your life in peace.

But it didn't erase your deep sadness.

It's been five months since you came to Jackson, it haven't been half as bad as you tought it would be, actually people here are neighbourly, everyone helps everyone. Gosh, you like this place. But you can't forget how lonely you feel now.

Of course, there's Tommy and his wife, but now you live alone in this enormous house he got you. Such a huge place and nothing to fill it with if not solitude. But the worst part of it is how seeing Tommy again resurfaced the feelings for Joel you so long burried away, as the only way you found of copig with the fact you would never see him again.

The problem is that now there is hope.

And suddently the urge to know more, to find him, hits you. You can find him, you just need the right clues.

You came back to your house, unlocking the door and shutting it behind you, you saw the map spread over the dining table and for a brief moment the possibility of staying and just... Leaving Joel be, crossed your mind. For a moment it doesn't seem so bad after all... If he didn't come to you before, why would he want you now? The person who took people's lives, who learned how to use a gun on their own, who can't sleep at night with the ghosts of the people they killed... You're not yourself anymore, why would he want you back?

But before you could think further into it, a knock behind you brings you back into reality. Turning the knob again to open it, you saw Tommy, in an euphoric state.

"You need to come with me, right now" - The man says with a wide smile across his face.

You're still clueless - "What happened?".

Before answering he pulled our of the door, dragging you by your arm across the street, right to the construction he was helping with.

You see the horses and recognize some of the people standing with them, but there's one little girl, around 13 or 14 years old, you can't record.

Abruptly Tommy stops to turn to you, with tears on his eyes - "someone heard your prayers, my friend".

He then placed a hand on your shoulder, leading you into the crowd of people, as you got further into it, your eyes catch Maria talking to a man, his salt and pepper hair falling over his eyebrows and then you saw it.

His big brown eyes.

Staring into your own.

Your heart drops and your knees turn weak. How are you even still standing?

"Joel?" - you call his name, but he is still unsure if it's a dream or not.

His heart beats loud on his ears with the realization, you are alive.

Tommy lets go of your shoulder and you waste no time in running to Joel, straight to the safety of his arms, safety you longed during 20 years. But yet he stays froze in place, maybe his mind was tricking him? Could it be an hallucination? He's tired and haven't slept in at least three days, he can't just trust his eyes right away.

But it is not necessary.

You finally get to him and he don't hesitate, his hands reaching for both sides of your face as he examinates it. Your gaze never leaving his as well.

Desperate arms pull you into his embrace. He smells like wet grass and wood, not the expensive cologne he used to wear when going out with you, but it isn't a problem. After all you found him, or better saying, he found you.

Joel tuck his fingers around the back of your neck and under your hair as he wishes to get closer to you, if it's possible. And he cries.

You hear his snifles on your ear and feel his tears leaving a wet spot on you jacket.

Joel's not good with words, you know that, but this is him saying "I missed you". This is him telling you about Sarah, Tess and how he lost himself the night of the outbreak, and it doesn't need one word to make you understand. He lost everything. But for what it seems, he just found everything again.

[yeonslayjun]

Dumb and Dumber - Hualian

Hua Cheng and Xie Lian are so OBVIOUS and OBLIVIOUS at the same time Honestly They amaze me ngl

Cuz Hua Cheng be Like - Wdym Gege Loves me?? That's impossible like I don't think he loves me solely for the fact that I'm one of his last believer left and that I built a FUCKING CITY for him and how I ran helped him in a case and dressed up as a Groom and gege was a bride (Oh his dead heart definitely started beating then pls ) and how I Built a temple to worship him and how I released 3000 lanterns for him and that I've made 10,000 statues for gege and not how I have red thread of fate on my finger bc he tied his hair on my finger

ALSO wdym I had my gay awakening at the land of tender??? Impossible He's my god I can't have those feelings for him bc I'm a dirty piece of shit (NO YOU ARE NOT)

and DEFINITELY NOT HOW I GAVE HIM Spirtual Power... DEFINITELY NOT HAHAHA.... Now let me just ask his hand for marriage OH nvm I'm unworthy he doesn't like me ( WHILE XIE LIAN IS SITTING ON HIS LAP ) let's make it into a joke hahaha..... OH? Gege's says he's happy for my beloved when will he know it's him talking about?? :( ( let's ignore he didn't know half of these lmao)

OH MY GOD GEGE SAW THE STATUES That's it I'm getting disowned by him He'll hate me ofc he will... I knew this would happen no I'm okay, IT'S FINE... Yeah he really should make it clear that he doesn't love me huh? :((

Like Hua Cheng is SO DOWN BAD for Xie Lian Like Honey we get it You exist to LOVE your Taizi Danxia and to serve Cvnt and angst

AND

My guy Xie Lian here is SO VERY OBLIVIOUS like I get that he was practicing abstinence but bro's like -

Oh Hua Cheng is such a pretty name *giggles* Oh and his hands were so beautiful and he was gentle with me too when he dressed as the Groom *blushes* Oh Crimson Rain Sought Flower is his name? *swoons* HOLY SHIT HE'S HOT *nosebleeds*

I like this kid san lang. OoO Did he just suck the poison out of me?!?! DAYUM he killed so many people at once *swoons x2*... WAIT IS HE HUA CHENG??!?! Oh my gosh IT IS Hua Cheng ajhsjdhsudhu Let's act calm and composed hehe. Let's sleep together cuz He would never hurt me >:( I wonder what happened to the kid who said he'd worship only me :( He was a good kid yk? Had one eye covered too kinda like you actually haha Funny Right???

He's so perfect as a "sworn brother" ( Yes I'm looking at you SQX) protecting me and shit. Wait he trusts me??? ME?!?! huh?!?!. San Lang~~~. AHHH HE RELEASED 3000 LANTERNS FOR ME AHHHH I LOVE HIM as a friend ofc ofc.

Oh I LOVE getting Spiritual Energy from him <3 that wasn't a kiss nope it wasn't.... ERROR 101 San Lang asked my hand in marriage ERROR.... o h He was Joking :( ofc he was :((( I wish he wasn't tho :((((( SAN LANG HAS A BELOVED?!?!? Ofc he has He's such a handsome and kind man he probably gets all the bitches he wants But why do I feel smth weird in my heart?? (IT'S CALLED JEALOUSY YOU DUMB MOTHOFO )

Honestly God (Jun Wu LMAO) Knows how he survived the past 800 years like BRO WHY IS YOU SO STUPID when it comes to love?!?!? Like ISTG He's one of the smartest of all the jokes called "GODS". But he still doesn't get it till he saw the 10,000 statues Hua Cheng prepared like pls

ALSO Hua Cheng the ghost king who defeated 33 gods and how his smartass self esp rubbed the floor with them Civil Heavenly Officials But the one moment he needs it to realise the VERY OBVIOUS FACT that Xie Lian loves him The Genius Smartass is nowhere to be seen

But tbh I can't blame Hua Cheng much here cuz Xie Lian was very oblivious to his own feelings pls BUT STILL

Their Slow-burn was too much for me Like the chemistry was SO OBVIOUS but they're just Dumb kids when it comes to feelings *sighs* The Hualian Brainrot is rotting my brain away as we peak

[cheri-2047]

Genshin angst headcanons

scaramouche lyney kaeya ga ming

my bad if I accidentally mischaracterized them

Scara:

He used to love hanging out with people. (Just like niwa) to make him feel like he has a heart. To try to get him to be human even if deep down he knows it will never happen. Whenever he is alone, he feels dead and empty.

he spaces out a lot, while walking, doing his homework and other shits. But when he does it’s because he wonders what would have happened if his mother loved him. He wonders if he would still be a monster

he’s the type to laugh the pain away, but when he does he’s still crying a lot (this is based on one of the lines he says)

He wonders if it’s really worth it. Like with relationships if it’s worth continuing. Deep down he’s still scared of being betrayed and abandoned again

lyney

He physically cannot cry around others. Even if he wanted to, he physically cannot. He has a hard time accepting himself and is always wondering if people would actually like him.

I bet he tried opening up before, he really did. But then people laughed it off, thinking it was a joke and taking it for a mere piece of entertainment.

i bet after arguing with freminet about his mask, he spent hours telling lynette how much he felt bad. He wanted to apologize but didn’t know how.

he cares for everyone, even if he has his own problems. He comforts people when they are down but…he always wonders, who will comfort him when he is down?

if people were to criticize him then laugh, he’d laugh along. Like “oh the magic trick u did earlier was so bad!! Haha!!” And hee laugh along. He is used to this type of criticism but once everything piles up, he actually gets hurt.

Kaeya

Whenever he’s drunk, he drunk mumbles. Except he’s whispering too soft for anyone to hear.

he loves to drink because not only does it help him forget (he actually doesn’t forget) he likes the feeling of warmth. He missed the warmth of “home”

this man hates looking at himself without his eyepatch. He thinks that if he never interfered with diluc, diluc would have been happier. He thinks that it’s all his fault.

ga ming

When his dad sold all his dancing stuff, he cried and cried. Talking to the moon thinking it’s his mother. “Mom…what do I do? Why..dad took away the one thing I loved and the archons took you away from me too…what more will they take?” Typa stuff

he’s very uncomfy whenever people try to persuade him to go back home. He dislikes thinking about it and when he does, he keeps his mind busy. This kid barely ever has breaks because his mind is busy avoiding problems.

he can’t be sad, not because he’s scared but because he knows his mother wouldn’t want him to be. But he knows one day he will spill and everything will come out. Hes very scared for that day.

this was not proofread

[irulaan]

THE ONE | SIRIUS BLACK

— I persist and resist the temptation to ask you if one thing had been different. Would everything be different today?

nav | masterlist

✧ PAIRING. sirius black x fem!reader

✧ WORD COUNT. 3.6k

✧ WARNINGS. angst. cheating. inspired by my own last breakup. mm slightly proofread and all over the place, expect mistakes, sorry! chronology? who’s that? very ooc sirius

The Christmas dinner that year had a gloomy aura. And everyone pointed the finger at your miserable frown and lost eyes, and of course the big sign above your head with bold crimson letters, ‘heartbroken’. Most of them cataloged you as selfish and whiny; why bring your long face to such sweet festivitie? As if you wanted to have those judging eyes all over you, as if you wanted to be there.

You’ll have a few spoonfuls of whatever that doesn’t trigger your desires for throwing up. Maybe you’ll still do, since your emotions are tied up in knots in your stomach.

Poor of them if they dare to ask you how it all started…

Steadying your breathing, you tried to locate your friend without success. She isn't there, because if she’s not early, then she’s not attending. Resigned and a bit anxious, you decided to take a seat. Alone.

The professor just walked in. “Page number 58” Was all she said.

A ragged breathing and faint footsteps caught your attention and your eyes followed the sound to found one of the most eccentric sixth graders. The blond one, well blond, you weren’t sure—his hair resembled the warmest sand. And he was always hurt, a few scars marring his soft skin. You didn’t like to stare. But you had seen him before, of course, he was in that group—the marauders, as they’d named themselves.

He sat beside you. Trying to tame his breathing, he wiped a few beads of sweat from his forehead. His darkish hazel eyes found yours, by his expression you knew he didn’t recognize you. It’s okay, so you smiled, and he did his best to try to imitate you. Maybe he wasn’t very used to smiling at strangers? But there was something else. His constant movements and his wandering eyes were screaming something that wasn’t your business to translate.

But there you were, concerned, once more, by a stranger who didn’t even knew who you were.

“Are you alright?” You whispered to him, and he turned his face towards yours, what it felt like a whiplash. He had piercing eyes and an expression shouting “lunatic”. But he ends up nodding.

It’s weak. And you’ll curse yourself until your death for scavenging into your pocket for a piece of chocolate. “On bad days I like to have one of these. Not much but they’re delicious” You offered to him, and he was clearly confused. How could you mind if you knew he was a troubled soul? “It’s yours” It’s the confirmation he needs to accept it, after all, he just cataloged you as nice, bit weird tho.

This time his faint grin matched his eyes. It isn’t uncomfortable to watch. “Thanks”

He looks hesitant to eat it, but ends up devouring the small theat. It was his favorite flavor. He isn’t searching for new friends but in that second, even if it sounds pathetic, he thinks you’ll be a good friend.

The boy clears his throat, startling you, so you shoot him a look. He’s fine, and he mutters, “Oh, uhm,” He’s looking at your possessions scattered around your open book, searching for a name. And you don’t have a problem understanding what he meant.

With a smile, you say your name.Then you pointed at the forgotten aluminum wrapper tossed on the table, near his own open book. “It’s good, right?”

He finds himself surprised. He felt caught and he doesn’t even know why. “Oh, yeah, it’s perfect, it's not about this… I was wondering, ubm” He’s not usually this awkward, he’d built a confident façade over the years. This was just the full moon’s residue. “Do you have… Can you lend me your last week’s homework? … Please?”

You nodded, almost too excited. Not a lot of people asked for your homework. It’s dumb to feel proud. It’s stupid to feel great because you’re being needed by a stranger that probably is about to forget your name.

“Oh, yeah, of course, you’re lucky she didn’t give us much…”

It's okay to regret that pivotal moment when you saw someone crumbling before your eyes, despite your good intentions. You couldn’t despise Remus, he just opened a door but you shouldn’t have entered into his world. Introducing you to the raven-haired boy was his doing but it was your fault to fall for his empty words and ghostly promises and with it, you destroyed everything.

His laugh makes your heart flutter, but you won’t admit it, not now. “Do you have something to do this weekend?” He inquiries, looking down at you with his bright grey eyes and a playful grin.

You held his stare, as you enjoyed searching for undiscovered eye’s details or marks across his face.

“Oh, no, not really…” There’s a beat of silence. Sirius is about to open his mouth, but you formulate a quick question to rescue you from the second hand embarrassment. “What about you? And the boys?”

He frowns, it’s subtle, but still noticeable. “I don’t know about the boys… not really” There's another awkward pause, which seems to drag on and yet is over too quickly. This is far easier for him, you should’ve known. “I was wondering that, because I think it would be great if we go out… to Hogsmeade, together?”

Oh, there are birds chirping in your heart so loud you could hear them. “Yeah, absolutely” You tried to not smile too big, too enthusiastically. It’s pointless, you don’t really want to hide what’s happening inside you, but you’re afraid too.

Now you know you shouldn’t have to accept it, you shouldn’t have jumped into his sticky, harmful webs.

That day you gave him your best smile, your best content eyes. Your softest tone. “We’re going to have a really great time!”

In the present day, and far away from that memory, you understood why your friends hated him so much, even if at the start he hadn’t technically done anything wrong. They knew. Maybe you knew too, but choose blindness.

You thought you'd never understand how things changed so fast, the thing is they didn’t. It was subtle, almost unnoticeable how everything was much more vivid and tender than everything before he asked you to be his girlfriend under the beating sun of august. Everything after felt like a weird, gloomy dream.

“I’m sorry I didn’t think you’ll care that much” He had the cheek to shrug.

Your face softened, no longer holding a frown. Angry melted into disappointment. “Of course I care…” Your voice is delicate and he felt like the worst human on earth.

“Don’t make that face,”

Swallowing a knot in your throat, you gather the strength to speak your mind. Fighting how afraid you’re to mess up the relationship. “Siri, it’s just—You know I, we see each other almost everyday and I don’t—I can’t understand why.” You paused to take a breath, to stabilize yourself, to not go to dark places of your mind. It’s inevitable. “It makes me think you don’t wanna go out with me…”

He desperately shakes his head, like he thinks he can change your mind. “Of course I do! You make me laugh, you’re intelligent plus you’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen” Outside, you rolled your eyes. Inside, even knowing it was the most common and ordinary line ever, you feel your heart warming. But your face still had that pout. Those glossy eyes. That dark grey cloud above you, ready to wet your cheeks. “I’m sorry, I just have a lot going on right now, You know, with the boys, and other stuff”

And you act like you forgive him. Because you’re good, because you love him, because you’re worried you’re doing everything wrong. “It’s okay,” I’m getting used to it already, you don’t say. There’s thoughts sharp as daggers threatening to cut your poor heart. You had to get away. “I think I’m going I—“

“—How about we go out next week? I don’t think I have something to do” Your heart beat again with anticipation. And you’ll hate him for every word he has ever said to you.

“Sure, but promise me you’ll remember…”

“Of course I’m going to remember. I’ll make it up to you... you’ll see” He promises, once again. And you have no option to believe him. Because he says he loves you. Because maybe you’re being unfair; he has a lot going on in his mind, and you had to be fine being the last of his priorities. “I love you, and I’m really sorry”

He loves you, and you love him. “Love you too,” You suppose love it’s enough.

At some point everything went downhill. He can’t even remember why he was so vexed by you. You couldn’t go to this place with him because you had plans with your friends? Fine, until he started to feel insecure, until the mind that their parents created could see the sun.

You were tired of canceling any plan just for him to forget almost every single time. So you don’t actually realize when you stopped doing it. It seemed natural, like you left behind the sweet feeling of being excited to find out where you were going, what you’ll be doing… all of that replaced by an icy and somewhat uncomfortable feeling of waiting for something that won’t be coming to you. A kind of longing you despised, but couldn’t shake off your mind.

And the first time you realize, was all Sirius fault.

“Don’t look at me like that, Siri, I’m trying to understand you,”

It hurts you seeing him so distressed about something you did, or say. His breath quivers and you could see his fingers are shaking from the anger he felt. And in your mind it was your fault.

“What's so hard to understand?” He whispers, then, he looks at you. Meeting your confused expression hiding your desires to cry underneath. “Fuck, are you stupid?”

You gasp. There must be something else stressing him to this point. It couldn’t be just you, could it be? “Siri…” It’s soft and inviting but he can’t return from his state. “I’ll cancel, okay? And we’re going wherever you want, uhm?”

He shakes his head. His raven waves are disheveled by the many times he had passed his fingers through it. He wanted to come back, but there’s something stopping him. “No, I can’t keep telling you everything you need to do—let me finish!” You opened your mouth again, to say something. To try to get the pieces together, to fix it. But he wasn’t that kind of person. He needed space to think—you had guessed some time ago, because he doesn’t acknowledge it. “Go have your fun, I’ll have my own”

He disappeared, out of your reach. And forever.

He felt guilty, and he wondered if it would ever stop. He was out of his mind, thinking you’ve done the worst to him. Even at some point, his wasted mind told him you were both done. He had seen you angry—or maybe afraid? He doesn’t even remember, but he hadn’t seen that expression on your sweet face before. He swore he would recall, but he never did.

Deep down he knew he had screwed up a long time ago, and a long time ago he stopped caring. After all you’ll feed your heart full with his excuses, empty promises and words he can’t believe he said so lightly.

He took you for granted.

Now he hates you. For not being there, for not standing your ground and trying to change things… and trying to make him a space where he doesn’t deserve to be.

Your heart was falling off your sleeve when you saw him at the table. He was alone. While the others are still sleeping upstairs. The italian summer breeze won’t be enough to soothe your tormented mind, it won’t heal your wounded heart. You didn’t even want to remember why you’re doing this — weren’t you enough?

It was hard to believe you were still there. After everything you knew, you’d still given him a chance. Every step towards his form was touring your crushed heart. “Can we talk?”

He smiles, leaving behind everything he was supposed to do. You don’t miss how his eyes try to avoid yours. “Oh, darling, I’m going somewhere, maybe later?”

At his futile attempt to leave, you became desperate. “No, I can’t wait. I need to talk to you right now.” He caught how your hand is trembling, while trying to reach for him. But it’s late, and the guilt has started to eat his rotting mind. He can’t say it to you. And maybe you wanted to talk about something else—how could you know? “I won’t insist again, please”

He’s being reckless and carelessness, but he doesn’t have the courage to ignore your plea. So he stays glued to the chair. “Fine but it has to be quick”

“Don’t you have something to tell me?” Your voice is breaking under the pressure of what you know. And it’s impossible for you to look into his eyes and confront him. But he shakes his head. And you see everything falling down. It wasn’t supposed to end like this. “I just have one thing to say, but I was just thinking…”

He takes all of his strength to smile. And it’s a pathetic excuse. “Nope, not really. I love you, that’s all”

You frown. Feeling your tears raining down, wetting your cheeks. “But it means nothing now,” He screws his eyes close. Drowning in guilt. In despair because he doesn’t know if you’re going to forgive him. “I know what you did, Sirius”

An horrified expression hardens his features. And he stands up, to embrace you. “I—I can explain it, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry”

In your misery, you accept it. Because it’s his arms. Because he smells familiar, like safety. You had to indulge in it, before losing everything. And it’s not too late when you realize he’s none of that. And had to rip yourself away from him. Your big heartbroken eyes stared straight into his soul. “You weren’t even going to tell me…” Your lower lip twitching, under your faint voice.

His heart shrinks, and he doesn’t know what to do. “I was waiting—“

“—You’re always waiting, it seems” You cut him off, suddenly annoyed by his pathetic cries and words. It almost seems like he doesn’t care at all. Then, why’re you there? Your voice can’t help but keep breaking. “I don’t care about your explanation… your acts have been screaming you wanted this to end. But I assume you’ve been waiting,”

His glossy eyes found yours again to deny your sayings. “That’s not true, please, how could I ever want to break up with you?”

There’s a soft humorless laugh slipping through your mouth. “But you did. Or were you thinking fool me would forgive you for this?” And there’s a bittersweet after taste in your mouth. And he’s shocked, because you never had tried to hurt him with words. In fact, he only was hurt by the collateral damage of things he did or said. “I don’t deserve this, Sirius”.

He falls to his knees, knowing you won’t take him back. “I’m deeply sorry, I swear I can make it up for you,” But you both knew he can’t, even if he was given the chance, he’ll just keep hurting you.

His head hangs low, and there’s some satisfaction in the back of your mind. Knowing he was hurting—or at least he’s good at pretending—even if you’re going through the same.

Suppressing a sob, your voice is a foggy punishment, “We’re done” It’s all you say, leaving him there. And everything after is a blur. No one asked, no one tried to stop you. You didn’t travel alone back home. No, one of the girls decided you couldn’t be left alone. You weren’t expecting anything, they were Sirius’ friends after all.

And Christmas passed by, and other festivities, birthdays, and parties. And you were a ghost. Only your closest friends saw you, as you kept yourself away from Sirius’ circle, not even wanting to hear his name in conversations. But time keeps passing by. Time wasn’t waiting for any of you.

You thought you’d gathered some strength by the time Remus’ birthday came around. It wasn’t foolish to think you could bear seeing Sirius, probably with a pretty another one wrapped around his finger—holding hands and dancing heart to heart to the torturous beat of your favorite song, by his favorite muggle band.

The bricks are cold and rough against your bare, tender back. You light a cigarette, trying to calm your nerves of not seeing him accompanied.

His smell, how his feet struck lightly the pavement gave it away in an instant. This wasn’t supposed to happen, this was—he’s supposed to be a stranger, someone you’ll be meeting again under different eyes.

He stopped and stayed glued to that spot. Near the wall. Only sighs came out of his mouth for what you felt was an eternity. You know he’s dying to speak, but he’s no fool, he knows he has only one opportunity, before you come back inside, running away from him.

He’s helpless if he thinks he still has time. “I’m sorry,” His voice wavered. He never learned how to approach hurt animals, especially if he was the perpetuator of their bubbling anxiety and misery.

You look at him, and you can only be sorry for your buried relationship, for what his hunger for self sabotage and poor emotion control has done. You don’t care if you’re unfair, he deserves all the credit for burning everything to ashes.

A humorless grin adorned your face, “It’s okay, Sirius, you don’t have to do this”

But it’s not okay. It never was.

He closes his eyes, “I regret every single day what I did at that party,”

And you sigh, “I know, I regret that too”. But it wasn’t all, you wish ti add.

And Sirius has to stare at you with his silver eyes, there’s no grin on his lips. He had to know you’re being honest. That you’re not a stranger.

He takes a deep breath, encouraging himself to ask for forgiveness, to explain everything he couldn’t back then. “I should have listened to you. I shouldn’t have let my thoughts taint what we had” Sirius takes a pause. You had a worried expression on your face — you don’t want to go through this, to awake your resentment for him. “I want you to know I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you. And I want to tell you that I care, I tried to send you letters and all”

You nodded, you knew, even if he didn’t say it. Entering into Sirius’ mind wasn’t easy. He had to let you in order to get to know the real one behind every mischievous grin, teasing eyes and flirty words. It was just a slip. That, you understood.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t read them. I despised you, and then you stopped sending them”.

Now it’s his turn to understand your doings. “Yeah, I didn’t want to push yourself more” There’s a silence loud enough to push Sirius to an edge and he wasn’t prepared to jump, he doesn’t feel he has the right. But he opens his mouth, “Do you think we…?” And his eyes are shining silver, under the dim yellow lights.

“Siri…”, You whispered, feeling almost sorry for him. He knew it was bad news. “I know you regret it because you broke us, and I hated it, because it doesn’t let me come back to you” His breath wavers and his heart shatters to sharp pieces. “We should stay as friends, as I still care about you”.

He closes his eyes, as a flow of undesired anger sends shivers down his spine. “I can’t be your friend, I’m in love with you!” He lifts his arms, trying to reach for you. He can’t. He knows you’re already so far away. Have been for a while. “I can’t bear having you so near yet so far away. Like life is mocking me!”

Waiting for him to finish, you watched how his hand carded through his thick, raven curls.

“Sirius, I thought so too. I thought I would be forever and always in love with you—I was head over heels, but not anymore.” You paused, “What I'm trying to say, it’s that everything will pass. Time would work things up, and then we’d just remember the good times, and we won't turn these gatherings into our personal hell”.

He shocks his head in disbelief. As if he has a right to deny your feelings—to deny you’ve moved on. “You don’t love me anymore?” In his eyes there’s a plea, and you don’t have what he wants. Lips disappearing into a thin line, you lightly shook your head. “When did you realize?”

“Sirius, I don’t think—“

“—Please,”

He just wants to bury the idea you’ll ever be together again. “When I saw you earlier… and I didn't feel my heart would explode. Didn’t hear the birds chirping…” You pause to smile, and it’s warm, nostalgic. “When I saw you earlier and realized you couldn’t hurt me anymore”.

Your voice fainting at the end of the phrase was everything he swore he wouldn’t do to you. “Shit, I really screwed everything”

When his red rimmed eyes connected with your own, a pang of pain spread through your stomach. You longed to reach for him, embrace his body, shield his mind from anything that could harm him. But he was the one responsible. So you stop yourself.

“Hey, maybe I was distracting you from meeting the love of your life,” He smiles. And you finally feel relieved.

[frenziedfireworks]

hii! i was wondering if you could write a fred x reader fic that has a bit of angst and fluff? after an argument with fred, the reader gets drunk at a random houses party and ends up a sad drunk mess & he ends up finding her and they speak for a bit and everything turns out to be alright.

doesn’t have to be exact, but i hope this made some sense<3

Arguments

Fred Weasley x Reader

Summary : Fred snaps at you when he gets home and you leave. You drink yourself into a stupor and still hear his words replaying in your head.

CW : Hurt/Comfort, drinking/smoking, cussing

A/N : I hope this is what you had in mind! This idea was cute!

masterlist

You were in a terrible mood. Fred had got home early, complaining about how work was bad and how a kid broke half of their products. You had listened and gave him a small hug but it seemed that wasn’t what he had wanted. 

“Get off. I’m not in the mood.” Fred pushed you away and began walking to your bedroom. Your eyes widened at the rude attitude and you felt tears well in your eyes. You grabbed at your coat and glared at his retreating form before opening the house door. If he wanted to be a bitch then he could do it alone. 

Your feet fell against the cobbled streets as you made your way to Angelina’s. You knew that she was planning a huge get together and had originally turned her down in hopes of spending the night with Fred but now that was out of the question. Your hand knocked against the door and it swung open to a half-drunk Angie.

“Y/N! I thought you weren’t coming! Get in here!” She pulled you into the house and you noticed some of your old friends circled around the table. Beers lined the counters and the room reeked of smoke.

“You all having a fun night?” You smiled as you approached them, glad to have an excuse to get shitfaced.

“Y/N!” Katie screamed and jumped up to hug you. “It’s been so long! I’m so glad you came!” The girl was interrupted as a hand tugged you away. Much to your surprise it was Lee. “Hey you. Thought you could use one of these if you truly want to get the party started.” He passed you your first beer and you sat down. 

—

Before you knew it you were four beers in and already feeling the repercussions. Much to your dismay though, the alcohol was not working in your favor. Instead of living it up and ignoring your issues, you were sitting in Angie’s bathroom sobbing your eyes out. Your friends had asked if you were okay but you just shooed them away saying that it wasn’t your night. You weren’t lying after all, it really wasn’t.. Your mind continued to play Fred’s words in your head, feeling as if it was a knife stabbing you over and over again.

A knock at the bathroom door shook you from your groggy state and you groaned. “Please leave me alone guys! I’m not feeling good.” You said between sobs. 

“Let me in Y/N.” Fred’s voice filled the void and your body froze. Why in the world was he here? In your drunken state you tried to piece it together, eventually coming to the conclusion that Lee had called him.

“Y/N! Please darling.” Fred slammed his fist against the door again and you begrudgingly pulled him in. Your face was lined with tears and you wobbled as you tried to stay standing. 

“What do you need?” You sneered at him and looked away. First he ruins your night and then follows you! The audacity.

“I came to fetch you love. Lee said you were sick and I think we need to talk.” Fred’s hand wiped at your cheeks and you shrugged out of his touch. 

“Oh so now you’re fine with comfort and affection?” You chastised and rolled your eyes. Fred sighed and his hand found yours.

“Y/N, I am so truly sorry. I was overwhelmed when I got home and everything was too much. I snapped when you were only trying to make me feel better. I really do love your hugs and want nothing more than your affection every day for the rest of my life. Please forgive me.” He squeezed at your hand and awaited your response. You looked at him for a few seconds before you started to cry again. Your arms wound around his form and he just held you in place. The two of you basked in eachothers presence for a while before you pulled back.

“Please don’t do that again. I don’t think I can take it.” You whispered and Fred bobbed his head.

“Never again love. I didn’t mean it and I am so sorry.” He reached out to place a soft kiss on your forehead. His arm wrapped around your back and he began to push you forward. 

“As much as I love sitting in Angelina’s bathroom I would much prefer the comfort of our own bed.” Fred teased and you let out a little laugh.

“I guess that’s fine.” You respond and the ginger gives you a grin.

“Thank you for your confirmation, my liege. I was worried you would say no.” He faked a curtsey as the two of you made your way out. You only rolled your eyes and smacked his shoulder.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“You love it though.”

[fatuismooches]

*flops out of sewer*

I noticed a couple of posts where Dottore holds onto stuff from fragile reader and I thought what if he has a locked drawer in his office where he's keeps littles trinkets or stuff from reader and looks at it whenever he's stuck on something or not in the best of moods and one day when reader is in his office they discover it. ahhh fluff fluff ( *pulls out angst* and reader starts crying because they didn't think their stuff is good enough for Dottore to see and that's why it was in the rubbish in the first place. hehehe ) fluffy fluff.

Ok. Have a lovely day smooches!

* flops back into sewer *

-Jellofish Anon

SOBBING RN NO ONE SPEAK TO ME... I saw your other ask referencing if fragile reader drew/made some kind of art but it comes out poorly due to their illness too and I just. CANT HANDLE THIS OH MY GOD. THIS MADE MY TEENY HEART HURT SO BAD. A part of you always wondered what he did with your little things... this was Dottore after all you couldn't always tell what he'd do. Especially since your creations weren't of much material or scientific value. You just hoped that in the instance you gave it to him, he was happy, nothing more. But clearly, you underestimated your husband... you didn't know he looks at your poorly made artwork when he's frustrated with his research, or fiddles with your not-so-well-constructed accessories when he's no step closer to finding a cure. You didn't know he thinks about you and what you're doing right now when he's stuck signing paperwork. Sigh...

You didn't mean to snoop around his office. The segments said he'd be there, but he wasn't. So you thought you'd just wait around a bit to see if he'd show up. And what better to occupy yourself by sitting in Dottore's large spinning chair and getting comfy. Even his coat was hanging there! But then you noticed that one of his drawers was the tiniest bit open, which surprised you as he always kept that one particularly locked. You never cared much about it because you presumed it was just important Fatui or research materials. But now that it was opened, right in front of your fingertips... you just had a feeling that you needed to know. And what was revealed to you was no confidential Fatui matter. No top-secret experiment. It was... merely the small gifts and trinkets you gave him on a whim. You swear, some of these were trashed in the bin, that you never showed to him too. Nothing fancy... and nothing very nice since your shaky hands weren't good enough for that. And that drawer was LONG. You kept sticking your hand in it and pulling out more folded pieces of paper. And what did you know, he also still had some things from hundreds of years ago that you made, these ones better quality since you weren't sick. Or letters you wrote to him, clearly worn but still recognizable. To think all of this was kept right in his desk... The revelation immediately started your tears. Dottore cared more than he would ever let on or show. Of course he did.

You tried your best to place the items back just as you had found them but your blurry eyes made it hard and eventually you just shoved them into the drawer. Hopefully he wouldn't open it up for a while, but he'd know it was you whenever he did. You just ran to your room and cried for a bit, both happy and sad that he actually liked your stuff enough to keep 🚶‍♀️ (He found out on the same day and came to your room to find you sleeping, and tucked you in once he saw your face)

[imaginespazzi]

Bestie, now you got me invested in the exes to lovers fic haha, saw some of your responses to another anon so I thought I'd tack on a few more thoughts:

Wow 9 years since they broke up, damn - the angst is really gonna ANGST huh, but also the TENSION after so many years apart oof.

Oh man, I wonder how P felt when she first heard about Azzi having a kid. Like I'm sure she would have been happy for her but also them having a family by that point in their lives is something she must have always dreamed about and aw, my heart already hurts a lil bit for P.

Also, imagine Azzi's daughter knowing who P is immediately when she first sees her and P is completely stumped by it. I feel like either Azzi or more likely Azzi's fam would still have so many pics around where P's in it so I feel like Azzi's kid would already have an inherent familiarity with her. Would be even cuter if P was kinda her favourite player (outside of her mum obvs) - I could also totally see Tim being the instigator of that, like he'd definitely be keeping track of all of P's basketball achievements and watching her games and his granddaughter's just his lil sidekick 😌

Agree with other anon that having them on the Valks would be nice haha, yk life imitating art and whatnot 😉. But also, Mystics would make a lot of sense if Azzi's a single parent, so she's close to her support system BUT Tim and Katie would also definitely be the type to move to wherever Azzi is if that's what she needed so I think GSV still works!

Also, them ending back up on the same team in the W - I'm guessing it's cause one of them gets traded or is a free agent, but then the question is did they choose the team knowing the other is there or was it out of their hands? Hmmm.

Anyway, just some food for thought, hope it helps somewhat (and apologies if it doesn't!)

In other news, what's your assessment of the W season so far? I still haven't fully immersed myself but am trying to keep up! I fear this is just how I am with basketball, even with the NBA, I don't usually pay as much attention until after the All-Star break or the playoffs 😅 I'm glad Indy's staying out of the lottery picks though (and hopefully it stays that way) 🙏

And you work with kids?? Naw love that lil piece of Nivi lore!

-🙋‍♀️

YAYYY I'm glad you're invested 😌

Then tension's gonna be interesting because even though they've been broken up for nearly a decade, they've still had to see each other a fair amount because of the W and there's just a lot of pent up tension that's going to blow up when they're on the same team

Paige definitely did not take the news the best. I haven't quite decided how this child came to be but there are definitely ways to really torture Paige with it if I choose to be sadistic about it...

Azzi's daughter definitely knows Paige, not just of her but she's met her at games before I think and she's basically awe-struck by Paige. I have so many ideas about this relationship like I think I'mma enjoy it the most to write.

I do kinda want them of the Valks cause it would just be so fun and I lowkey want to name Azzi's daughter Stephanie (after Steph) so it would just work out really lovely and then Paige would be the one who moves teams and I think that'll probably have to be a trade because Paige isn't willingly going to torture herself ya know? Which tbf I guess is kinda unrealistic because who the fuck would trade Paige but ya lose some ya win some with logistics 😭

I love my kids on most days but the bad days....oh the less said the better but it's definitely a good curveball for my baby fever lol.