#and she's like.. so overwhelmingly caring that i had no idea this is what love comes with | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tasteleeknow · 2 years

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HELLO STRANGER. PART ONE.

pairing: minho ft. hyunjin x fem!reader genre: smut, angst, fluff, soulmate!au. enemies to lovers. jealousy. pining. unrequited love. content: 18+ minors dni. word count: 7k

summary: after watching everyone around you pair off with their soulmate, you finally get your turn. a slow burn strangers to enemies to lovers soulmate!au with jealousy and angst and smut and suffering (and softness ofc).

series masterlist & taglist ♡ pt.1 | pt.2 | pt.3

♡ series masterlist

mention of death (a recurring theme, not a main character). mc has anxiety. mention of body insecurity.

“I’m so happy for you, Mina. I-I really am.”

Your roommate was engaged to her soulmate. She’d woken you up at 2am, flicking your lights on and jumping up and down on your bed until you’d roused enough to comprehend what she was saying. A little over a year ago she’d gotten a notification—the person that suited her more than anyone else on earth had been found.

“She’s been trying to do it for weeks, apparently. She kept chickening out,” Mina giggles as she fiddles with the ring on her finger. “Isn’t it pretty?” she says, holding it out for you to inspect.

She’d shown you many times in the 20 minutes she’d been sitting cross-legged on your bed. You indulge her, taking her delicate hand in yours to take another look at the admittedly very pretty ring. Her joy was a little overwhelming, you’d been so low for so long.

It was only a few months after Mina met her soulmate that your boyfriend met his. He’d lied to you, signing up for the matching service behind your back. When he’d left, you’d signed up yourself in your anger—as if it could do anything to hurt him back. He didn’t care.

Neither did you, not anymore. You watched the people around you pair off, so distracted by their own joy not one of them had asked you about your lack of it. Then, a few weeks ago you’d received your notification. You’d stared at your phone screen, trying to comprehend the reality of it. All you had to do was acknowledge the match and agree on a time to meet. Then… you’d be one of the happy ones? You’d thrown your phone onto the bed, ignoring it until you were forced to pick it up again. You hadn’t told anyone since.

You look up at your friend again, her cheeks rosy—likely from a mixture of wine and excitement. “Mina?”

“Mm?” she responds absentmindedly, not looking up from her ring.

“I-I got my notification…” Her eyes snap up to meet yours. “...a few weeks ago,” you finish.

“What?! Who are they?!” she squeals, falling forward to grab your hands in hers—flapping them up and down.

“I don’t know, I didn’t respond.”

She drops both your hands onto the bed, eyes wide. “What? Why?”

“I…don’t know. I’m scared, I guess.”

She shuffles up to sit beside you against the pillows. “Ya know, I was scared at first too.”

You look up to her face, she’s looking at her ring again. You remembered the first week after she got her notification. She’d been so bouncy and overwhelmingly happy, you don’t remember her being nervous at all. “You were?”

“Mm, I know the whole idea is that you are supposed to be perfect for each other. But… what if I was the exception? What if I wasn’t enough for her? It felt…like such a huge thing to live up to—being someone’s perfect person. I just wanted to be enough for whoever it was I was going to meet.” She reaches over to take your hand. “Then I met her…and that all felt so silly. She was everything and I knew that even if I wasn’t enough for her yet, I'd do everything to make sure I was. She made me wanna be the best person I could be and it…was a lot—but in the best way.”

“I don't… know if I’m ready to be the best version of me.”

“That’s the point, even if you aren’t. They’ll help you. Besides, what if they need you to help them be the best version of them?”

“I’m not sure I could help anyone with that…”

“Just try? Yeah? I’ll be here,” she says, squeezing your hand gently.

You look over to your nightstand where your phone is charging. You couldn’t really bear to look at it these days. Mina nudges your shoulder. You reach over to grab it. She’s quiet as you open the app. Your heart races as you enter times you are available to meet, hesitating over the final button that confirms your agreement. You look down to Mina’s hand on your leg, the delicate ring catching your eye. You take a deep breath, then hit confirm.

Three weeks and they haven’t confirmed a time. Whoever they were, they clearly didn’t want you. You knew it was silly, to be upset about something you’d done yourself. Maybe they just had the same insecurities you did? Mina was busy with wedding preparation, you didn’t blame her for being distracted. She was happy and you were happy she was happy. Everything was fine.

“What about these?” Mina says, pointing out some blue carnations. The only other time you’d been in a flower shop like this was when you’d bought some roses for your anniversary with your ex.

“They’re pretty, are you definitely going with blue then?”

“Mm,” she confirms, “blue and purple.” She wanders away again and you trail behind, fiddling with the chain dangling off your phone case. “Haven’t heard back?” she asks. You pause briefly, it’s the first time she’s asked in over a week.

“No.”

“They’re probably panicking like you were.”

“Yeah,” you mutter.

You’re a little out of it as she leads you around the store—fiddling with the chain the entire time. The loud ring of a notification startles you, a small squeak leaving your lips. Mina looks up at you as you flick your phone to silent, you must have absent-mindedly flicked it while you were fiddling. You look up to meet her eyes.

“Check it,” she prompts.

“It’s probably nothing.”

“Check it,” she repeats. So you do. He’s confirmed to meet the next day. Just like that. Mina snatches your phone from your hands.

“Tomorrow?! Oh my god,” she says before shoving your phone back in your hands. “Confirm you’re going.”

“I’m going…” you mumble, staring down at the screen—attempting to process it.

Mina’s laugh breaks you from your daze. “Yes, you’re going. Come on, let’s go pick your outfit.” She grabs your arm, pulling you from the store.

You hardly sleep that night, spending the entire next morning cleaning your apartment—attempting (and failing) to distract yourself from the anxiety stirring in your chest. Your small cat brushes against your leg as you bend down to clean her tray.

“Hey, baby. You might meet a new friend soon, hm?” She meows at you. “Mm, I know. It’s scary for me, too. We’ll be okay, I'm sure they’re nice.”

A clap of thunder makes you jump. It had been storming all night. Usually storms relax you but apparently not even that could calm you now. “Gonna shower now,” you whisper to your cat, stroking her fur one last time.

You’d been putting it off, showering. You didn’t feel like looking at yourself. You didn’t consider yourself a particularly insecure person, most of the time you managed to stay pretty neutral about how you looked. You were fine. Right now though? Every negative thought you’d ever had was stirring to the surface. You couldn’t help pausing just before stepping into the shower, twisting back and forth to inspect yourself in the mirror. You’re fine.

You struggle to close your umbrella, shoving the handle into your stomach so you can push it down—eventually managing to collapse it fully. It’s still pouring. You’d closed your eyes the entire bus trip, listening to the rain and attempting to settle your nerves. You weren’t particularly successful. You rest your hand on the wall, steadying yourself—your empty stomach growling as you gather yourself. This is fine.

You look up at the revolving door. A girl walks out with a huge grin on her face—giggling to herself as she passes you. Clearly her meeting went well. You suck in a deep breath, the fresh air helping a little. Then, shoving the umbrella in your bag, you head inside.

The receptionist hands you a clipboard and a pen and asks you to wait for someone to collect you. It makes you feel like you’re at a dentist appointment. Not great for your nerves. You settle yourself in the corner to read the forms. You expect a disclaimer to cover the company's ass; terms and conditions. It’s a little more than that. Your leg bounces as you scan the pages, pen tapping against the clipboard.

Customers retain the right to withhold personal information from partners and discontinue communication at any time. Security is present on the premises. You read a paragraph about a wristband each person can use to signal for security discreetly. Why would anyone need that? You realise you're chewing on the pen. Crap. You look up to see if anyone has noticed. You can’t read anymore. You feel like your entire brain is consumed with trying to keep it together. You scribble your name at the bottom of the last page and head to the desk to hand it back.

“I’m—I’m done with this.”

“Oh, good. Felix will take you through now,” the receptionist answers, pointing to the blonde man holding a door open for you.

“Thank you,” you say quietly, adjusting your bag on your shoulder and heading over. This is fine.

“Good morning, I’m Felix” he greets. His voice is calm and his face bright. You can see why he has this role.

“Morning.”

He holds the door for you as pass then leads you down a long hallway, turning to speak to you. “Nervous?”

“A little,” you say, offering him a small shaky smile.

“You’ll be fine, promise. I’ve worked here awhile and never seen anyone leave without a big smile.” He stops at a cupboard built into the wall, pulling the door open. “Could you hold your hand up for me? Just wanna check your size.”

You offer him your arm and he wraps a small smartwatch around your wrist. “Perfect,” he mutters to himself.

“This is to call for security?” you ask.

“Yeah, just press this button on the side. It won’t make a noise. They won’t know you’ve called.”

“Why…why would I need this if everyone always leaves with a smile?”

“I’m sure it was suggested by a lawyer at some point, just a precaution.” Your hand shakes a little as he secures the strap for you. “You’re okay,” he says, obviously noticing your visible nerves.

You’re okay.

“I’ll take you to your room now, okay?” he asks, voice gentle. You look up to his face, counting a few of his freckles as you take a few slow breaths.

“Okay,” you say after a few seconds. He smiles then turns and leads you through a door to another long hallway. This one has many doors along each side, each one numbered. You count them as you go. He finally stops at door 14. “This is you,” he announces. He doesn’t open it, just turns and looks at you—clearly waiting for you to prepare yourself.

“Are they… in there already?”

“Mm, we stagger arrivals. He’s been here about 30 minutes.”

“He?”

“Oops, spoilers,” he says, offering you a playful smile.

You offer him a weak smile in return then turn to the door only to freeze, staring at the door knob like you had never seen one before. Felix waits patiently at your side. “What if he doesn’t like me?” you mutter under your breath.

“You know how long I’ve worked here?” Felix says in response, apparently ignoring your question. “4 years,” he continues. You look from the doorknob to his face. “I’d say about 80% of the people I lead to one of these doors ask me some variation of that question.”

“And they leave happy?”

He smiles and nods. “Mm.”

You grab the doorknob, ready to get on with it. “Felix?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you, really.”

“No worries,” he says, “you’ll be fine.”

You smile at him one last time and take a deep breath, pushing the door open. A chair scrapes across the ground and you look up to the man standing at a table in the middle of the room. You suppose, he’s yours. You wonder if he thinks you’re disappointing—if you’re not what he expected, what he hoped for. Felix places a gentle hand on your shoulder, helping you enter the room—the door closing behind you.

The man holds his arm out, gesturing to a lounge along the wall. You suck in a breath, only just realising you’ve been holding it.

“I saved you a seat,” he says, the first to break the silence. You suppose that was something like a joke, you’re too nervous to offer anything playful back. So instead you hurry over, dropping your bag to the ground as you collapse into the soft couch cushions. He sits himself at the other end, space for another two or three people between you. There’s two water bottles on the table. You should say something. Your name. Name’s are good. You fail to meet his eyes as you introduce yourself, reaching for the bottle instead.

“Minho,” he offers in return. You look up at him, a nervous smile on your face. He’s pretty, too pretty for you. He’s wearing a black t-shirt and jeans. You’re overdressed.

“Hi,” is all you manage.

“Hi.”

“Have you… been waiting long?”

One corner of his lips curves up. “No, not long.”

He doesn’t seem nervous at all. Why had he waited three weeks to respond if he wasn’t at all like you? “Ah, that’s good.”

“Nervous?” he asks, nodding to where you were twisting the cap of the bottle on and off repeatedly. You place it back on the table.

“Yeah, sorry.”

“Don’t be.” He stands, walking over to a bookshelf. “Do you wanna play a game?”

“A game?”

“They have a bunch here. Uno?”

“...sure.”

He pulls the deck from the pack as he makes his way back over. “You know how to play?��

You huff out a half laugh. “Uno? Yeah.”

He smiles. “Just checking. The only thing I know about you is your name and that you like yellow.”

You look down at your yellow sundress. You had stood out amongst the crowd on the bus, everyone in dark raincoats and jackets. It wasn’t cold, just wet. Your cardigan was enough. “I… It’s my favourite colour, yeah.”

“It suits you.”

You look up. He’s focused on dealing the cards. “Thank you,” you say, just above a whisper.

He flips a card over on the small coffee table and grabs his cards. You exchange small talk as you go. Your ages, what you do for work, if you have any pets. You talk about your cats a little, the first commonality you’ve discovered. You figure you’ll latch onto them whenever any come up, maybe more so than with any other stranger. The unspoken knowledge that you are supposed to be ideal for each other makes it feel like more is at stake. Instead of risking merely an awkward interaction with a stranger, you are both risking… well… your future happiness together.

He seems kind. Maybe a little reserved, but so were you. You get the feeling he’s holding a lot back, like he’s not entirely here. You wonder if his anxiety just presented differently to yours.

“Do you live alone?” he asks, slapping a pick up 2 on the stack. You slap one on top, looking up with a small smile. “Got me,” he says, returning your smile and then picking up 4 from the deck.

“I have a roommate: Mina. What about you?”

“Hyunjin. Met him at dance lessons years ago, he stuck to me like a leech.”

“So he loves you?”

He looks up from his cards, eyes flicking across your face for a moment before he answers. “Mm, I guess he does. Are you close with Mina?”

“I’m gonna be her maid of honour.”

“Ah.” He moves a few cards around in his deck. “Is she… with her—I mean did they meet through this?” He gestures to nowhere in particular with his cards, like he can’t speak the word soulmate.

A small knot of anxiety reappears in your chest. It had eased without you realising, returning now.

“Yeah, they met a year ago,” you answer.

“A year? That’s quick.”

“I guess.” You watch him continue to fiddle with his cards. “It’s your turn,” you prompt.

He looks up at you. “Right.” Then leans forward to grab a card from the deck.

“Is Hyunjin… has he met his?”

He places a colour change card down gently. “Green,” he announces quietly. You expect him to answer your question, but he doesn’t. So you take your turn. It isn’t until you’ve both had two more turns each that he speaks. “He hasn’t.”

You get the feeling you’ve said something wrong. You fiddle with your cards, realising you’re guaranteed a win. You look up at the man next to you. Is he a sore loser? You know nothing about him at all. You finish the game, looking up at him to see his reaction.

“Well done,” he says calmly as he begins to collect the cards, stacking them into a neat pile. You tuck away another tiny puzzle piece you can use to put together this person who was supposed to be your soulmate.

You look around the room, desperate to find another activity to save you from any awkward lulls. A big wooden chest catches your eye. You leave him to finish putting the cards away, wandering over to the mysterious chest. It looked like something that would be full of pirate’s gold. You bend down to lift the lid, conscious of the man appearing at the bookshelf next to you. It’s heavy and his hand appears to help you pull it the rest of the way up.

It’s full of clothes. Costumes and props. You pull a witches hat out, lifting it onto your head and smiling at the man next to you. He smiles back then retrieves a big sunflower hat. “Put this on, it matches your dress.” You drop the witches hat back in the chest. Then, before you can take it from him, he gently lowers the sunflower hat onto your head. You readjust it, feeling your cheeks warm as he bends down to search through the chest again.

When he stands he has a big red clown nose on. The serious expression on his face makes it all the funnier, drawing out a small laugh from your lips. “Try squeezing it,” he says stoically. You reach up, squeezing the red nose between your fingers. It squeaks, a lot like a dog toy. His mouth curves up a little in one corner then he pulls it from his nose, holding it out to you.

“You try.”

Your fingers brush together as you take it from him, a shiver running down your spine at the contact. His eyes on you as you attach the nose to your face makes you nervous. When you look up he wastes no time squeezing it, the high pitched squeak pulling the first actual laugh you’ve heard from him. You join him, the contagious quality of his loud laughter getting you more than anything else.

By the time you’ve exhausted the large chest of its treasures your stomach hurts, collapsing onto the floor as Minho pulls a big pink bow from his hair. “No, leave it!” you gasp out through your laughter, reaching out to wrap around his wrist before he can drop the bow into the chest. He joins you on the floor, his leg brushing against yours pulls your awareness to your hands. You pull back quickly.

He stretches his legs out, leaning back on his palms as you both catch your breath. It’s quiet for a moment. It doesn’t feel awkward. Your mouth tugs up at the corners at the revelation. “Why’d you take so long to respond?” he asks, bringing you back down to earth. A heaviness settles over you immediately.

“I uh…just wasn’t ready,” you answer, pulling a flower crown off your head. Your heart races in your chest as you prepare your next words. “You…took awhile as well.”

He pulls his legs to his chest, arms resting on his bent knees. “I wasn’t ready either.”

“You’re ready now?”

He’s quiet, eyes flicking between yours. Then he stands, offering you a hand up. You make sure your dress stays down as you let him pull you up, his hand warm in yours. He pulls you up effortlessly, fingers brushing together as he releases you. “Would you like to come over for dinner?” he asks.

“I… Yeah, sure.”

He walks over to a backpack under the table, pulling it over his shoulder. “Great, I think Hyunjin might be home tonight but he’ll probably stay in his room.”

“Tonight?”

He looks up at you. “Yeah… that alright?”

“Ye-Yeah.”

“Did you drive here or…?”

“Bus.”

“I can give you a lift home?” He says, eyes dropping down to his phone as he types something quickly. “I’ll pick you up later. Gotta get a few things for dinner.”

“I can get the bus.” You’re not sure why you turn him down.

He looks up at you, brows furrowed. “You sure? It’s probably still raining.”

“I like the bus.”

He steps towards you and you hold your breath as he reaches towards your hair, picking out a pink feather—a remnant from your dress up session. “I’ll pick you up at six?” he asks, close enough that your eyes fix on the freckle at the end of his nose. Your soulmate has a nose freckle. Soulmate.

“Six,” you confirm, voice a little breathy.

“I…told Hyunjin you were coming and he showed…a lot of interest. He might hang around, sorry.” Minho warns as he steps up to his door.

“I don’t mind.”

“He’ll keep you company while I finish up with dinner, anyway.”

“Alright.”

You follow him into his apartment, taking in your surroundings as he leads you to the living room where a boy with short blonde hair sits at a small table on the floor. He jumps up as you enter, a wide grin spreading across his face as he approaches.

“You’re here,” he greets you like you’re old friends, like you were here for him and not the man standing beside you. You offer him a friendly smile.

“I’ll leave you two to chat for a bit, i’ll be done soon,” Minho says before backing up towards the adjoined kitchen. You catch him giving his roommate a pointed look and then he turns, leaving you alone.

Hyunjin gestures to a cushion on the floor by the table, sinking back down to resume his position on the other. He pushes aside a notebook and as he closes it, you catch a glimpse of some sketches. “Can’t believe you’re finally here,” he says, propping his elbows on the table to gazing at you like you’d put the stars in the sky.

You drop your eyes to the table, feeling a little overwhelmed by his intensity. “Uh, I—I can’t really believe it either. It’s a lot.”

“Did it go well today?”

“Um…I think so. Minho hasn’t said anything?”

He looks to the kitchen then leans over the table so he can lower his voice. “He’s not particularly talkative. You may have noticed.”

“He…seemed a little reserved but so am I. I don’t mind.”

His plush lips curve up in one corner. “So it was a quiet session then?”

“Not…exactly. We played dress up.” You look down at the table, smiling a little to yourself at the memory. Hyunjin is quiet and when you look up at him again he has a soft smile on his face. You drop your gaze to the table, his closed notebook catching your eye again. “Do you draw?”

He sits back, pushing the notebook in front of you and flipping it open. “Mm, you can look if you want.” You flip through the pages as the boy across from you sits quietly. They’re mostly sketches of people, a few watercolours scattered in. You pause on a page of a silhouette, turned away—hair falling over their face. It makes you sad. You close the book, sliding it gently back across the table.

“They’re…really good.”

“Thank you. Do you like art?”

“I like it. I can’t do it.” You look over to the kitchen, wondering if Minho was an artist. You hadn’t asked.

“He’s not an artist,” Hyunjin says, like your thoughts are written across your forehead. “I know how it feels…all of this—it’s terrifying.”

“You—You know?”

He smiles sadly just as a loud crash comes from the kitchen. “I’ll check on him,” he says, standing and leaving you there at the small table. You take the opportunity to wander around the room, attempting to gather as much information about the man who was supposed to be yours. A small jingle draws your attention to a cardboard box in the corner of the room. A small cat is curled up inside, lazily licking at his paw.

“Hello baby,” you coo, crouching down to stroke his soft fur. “I have a friend at home who’d love to meet you.” You scratch his chin, the cat lifting his head so you can get a good view of his collar. No name tag. “What’s your name, baby? Which one are you?”

Minho had mentioned his cats earlier. You’d forgotten their names, too anxious at the time to retain information properly. You look back to the kitchen. Hyunjin hadn’t returned. You lean down to kiss the purring cat on the head and then head towards the kitchen, freezing when you hear the two men arguing—clearly attempting to keep their voices down.

“I did this for you,” Minho’s anger comes through his voice clearly, despite it being practically in a whisper. “I could lose Sana over this.”

“Shhhh, keep your voice down,” Hyunjin scolds. “Why are you acting like this?”

“Like what?”

“Angry.”

“Because I’m working my ass off to cook for a stranger when I’d rather be with the girl I fucking love.”

You stagger back a step, kicking a cat toy across the hardwood floor. The men go silent, alerted to your eavesdropping. Hyunjin appears in the doorway, catching you as you take one more step back.

“I’m—I—” you stutter. “I’m sorry,” you blurt out, spinning and rushing for the door.

In your rush to snatch your bag from the small table your shin comes into contact with the sharp corner. The pain snaps you out of your panic as you drop to the floor, clutching your leg tightly against your chest as you rock back and forth. He loves someone else. He didn’t want you. He loves someone else. He lo—Hyunjin appears in front of you.

“Show me,” he says gently. You shake your head, squeezing your eyes shut. You wish you could pass out, just leave the next hour of your life to a clone of you. You can’t do this. You need to get out. You stand abruptly, grabbing your bag from the table and rushing for the door. Hyunjin hovers around you as you shove your feet into your shoes, heels hanging over the ends. “Let me drive you home,” he says, the gentle touch of his hand on your arm snapping your eyes to his. You’d felt comfortable with him since the moment you��d met. He felt safe. You don’t look over his shoulder properly, merely glimpsing Minho standing silently out the corner of your eye.

“Okay.”

“Okay,” he says, offering you a small smile. He opens the door for you and you fight the voice in your head that tells you to turn around, to take one last look at the man you’d thought was yours.

Hyunjin is quiet as you both walk down the stairs. He’s quiet as he unlocks the car and hands you his phone with the maps app open. He’s quiet as he drives you to your apartment. When the car is parked and the engine is off, you’re almost afraid to break the silence. You do it anyway. “Thank you. I know–I know we just met but you’ve been…very nice. I’m—just thank you.”

“Can I come in?”

You turn to look at your door, then back to him. “I—”

“Just wanna make sure you’re alright…and explain things a little.”

You’re not sure if you want things explained. You feel like collapsing into bed and crying until you pass out. The adrenaline has well and truly worn off, you're too afraid to look at your leg. You’re sure it’s bleeding. “Alright,” you mutter, opening the car door and stepping out on your good leg. You start hobbling towards your door as the sound of the car locking goes off behind you.

“Can I help?” Hyunjin asks.

“I’m fine. It’s fine.”

Mina isn’t home. You’re not sure if you’re relieved or disappointed. You’re not sure about anything. Hyunjin digs out your first aid kit after listening to your directions and joins you in the living room. He’s quiet as he cleans you up. It’s only when he closes the first aid kit that he speaks. “I don’t know how to say this without… without sounding like I’m trying to say I have it worse. I’m… just trying to explain this whole thing. Okay?”

You nod, emotionally drained.

“She died. My soulmate. I don’t know if Minho said anything,” the corner of his mouth pulls up into a sad smile. “I can’t imagine he would.”

“You don’t have to do this.”

“I do. Just… let me, please?” You sit back, giving him a slight nod. “She—It was… it was the day we were supposed to meet,” he stands up, placing the first aid kit on the table and then sitting next to you on the couch. You don’t know whether to turn your body towards him or give him all the space you can. You stay completely still. “I’m telling you this because I want you to understand why I did what I did. I… encouraged him because I love him like a brother and I want him to be happy. I need him to be happy and you’re—you’re the thing he can have that I can’t. I need him to have you.”

You can’t help looking at him, turning your body slightly as you try and find a position for your leg that doesn’t hurt. “He doesn’t want me.”

“He doesn’t know you.”

“I don’t think he wants to know me. He loves… someone else.”

“He’s infatuated with a girl he’s known for years. She doesn’t feel the same way. She sleeps with him because it’s easy and he’s there. It’s not… it’s not love.”

“I’m sorry. About what happened to you. I—I can’t imagine…” you stand, forgetting about your leg and stumbling a little as you catch your footing. He stands quickly, arms outstretched to attempt to catch you. “I can’t be with someone who doesn’t want me. I can’t—” you cover your mouth as your voice wobbles, not wanting to cry in front of someone who was essentially a total stranger.

“Can we exchange numbers?” he asks. “If you ever want to get coffee or… anything…”

You collapse back onto the couch, digging through your bag so you can hand him your phone. Part of you wants to send him out the door and never see him again, breaking off any connection to Minho entirely. But then, the other part… it wants to hold on, to take Hyunjins hand and beg him to keep you. To help you convince Minho to want you, to love you. When he’s finished he hands it back, a heavy silence falling over the room.

“I’m not sure… if I'll want to keep in touch,” you say eventually.

“I won’t contact you. Just… message me if you ever want to talk or meet, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“You have to tell me… please?” Mina says as she lays a blanket over your lap. She passes you the mug of coffee she’d made you. “Please?” she asks again.

“He didn’t want me. That’s it,” you say before blowing over the surface of your coffee and taking a small sip.

“It doesn’t make sense. Why wouldn’t he want you?”

You shrug. “He found someone better.”

“It doesn’t make sense.”

“You said that.”

She’s quiet for a moment. You imagine what she must be thinking. Pity, probably. Her poor friend. Dumped by her boyfriend and then dumped by her soulmate. “You can’t give up. He’s—He’s yours.”

You lean over to place your mug down on the table. “What am I supposed to do? Bother him until he decides to give me his attention? I’m not begging someone to want me, even my soulmate.”

“Just speak to him. You haven’t even given him a chance to talk about it.”

You pull the blank up over your shoulders, tucking your chin into the soft warmth. “What if I cry?” you whisper. “I don’t… want to cry in front of him.”

Your friend leans against you, laying her head gently against your shoulder. “You’re brave. You’ll be okay. If you do cry and he judges you for it then he’s an ass.”

“I don't… think I can. Not yet.”

“Alright,” Mina whispers, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Mario Kart?”

“Morning,” Hyunjin greets, a warm smile on his face—like you were two friends meeting for a casual chat. You look around you, at the other people sitting around engaged in their own conversations. You wonder if they have their soulmates.

You’d given in, messaging your Minho’s roommate only a week after rushing from his apartment. Minho hadn’t contacted you at all. You wished you were strong enough to let him go, but you weren’t. So here you were, attempting to form a connection with his roommate because you were too cowardly to message the man himself.

A hand waves in front of your face, snapping you out of your trance. “How have you been?” Hyunjin asks.

“Is that a polite ‘how are you’ or are you actually asking?”

His plush lips curve up into a small smile. “I’m asking.”

“I miss him. I don’t even know him and I miss him.”

“Mm, I get it,” he says, tipping sugar into the iced coffee you’d ordered for him.

“Has he.. said anything?”

He wraps his hands around the cup, tipping it back and forth a little. “We’ve… not really been talking. We had… a conversation that night and not much since then.”

Minho was really that angry at his friend for making him meet you? You look down to your empty cup. “Right.”

“He’d like to meet you.”

“Would he really or is this another set up?” you mumble.

“I didn’t force him. To meet you.”

“That’s what it sounded like.”

“I think… this is something he should talk to you about.”

“Alright.”

“You’ll meet him?”

“Not yet.”

Hyunjin twirls his straw around, playing more with his coffee than actually drinking it. “Would you like to come to a gallery with me? There’s one near here.”

“I have to go to work soon,” you say, watching as he drops his eyes to his lap. “But I can tomorrow?”

His eyes meet yours, one corner of his mouth lifting a little. “Alright.”

It becomes a regular part of your schedule, visiting galleries with him. Once a week, at least. He gives you a tour around the entire city's art scene, opening your eyes to a whole world you’d never bothered to explore yourself. He’s kind, easy to open up to and he doesn’t bring up Minho unless you ask first. It’s nice. It’d been weeks since you’d seen Minho. He hadn’t said anything.

“She was an artist, apparently,” Hyunjin says suddenly, eyes fixed on the large portrait you’d been appreciating. You think he means the woman in the painting at first but when you look at his expression, it’s obvious he means his soulmate. He hadn’t brought her up since the night in your apartment, after he’d finished cleaning your blood from your leg.

“Do you know much about her?”

“Her family invited me to the funeral. I kept in touch with her brother. He… told me about her,” he says, moving each arm behind him so he can lean back on the long bench you both sit at. A couple walks past you, more engaged in each other than the artwork around them. You’re both quiet as they pass. “If she was here, and I had the chance to know her—”

“I know,” you say, cutting him off. “I know. But… what if it’s not… everything people say it is. What if it’s a placebo effect? We all think this other person is perfect for us and so they are. We convince themselves they are.”

“Maybe. Does it matter?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because clearly it isn’t working on him.”

He turns his body towards you, leaning closer. “Will you talk to him, please?”

You sigh. “Okay.”

“Really?”

You lift his hand from where he’s gripping his own thigh, intertwining your fingers. “I like you, Hyunjin. I like spending time with you and… if this will make you happy… I’ll do it.”

“It will.”

“Is he home now?”

He grins, pulling you up from the bench.

“You warned him?” you ask, fiddling with the hem of your shirt.

“Yeah.”

“He… he wants to meet?”

“Yeah.”

“Promise?”

He huffs out a light laugh. “I promise.”

“You’ll be nearby?”

“Cafe across the street,” he says, pushing you gently towards the steps to his apartment. “Now go. You’re okay.”

You trudge up the stairs, begging your body to be calm—to hide the anxiety coursing through your entire frame. You knock on the door before you can change your mind, sucking in a deep breath as it swings open.

“You came,” Minho says, brushing his hand through his damp hair. He stands to the side, holding the door for you. He looks calm, as always. His lack of anxiety during your first meeting made sense now. He didn’t care like you did. He was doing a favour for a friend. You hesitate, turning back behind you to the coffee shop where Hyunjin waits. This is fine. You step through the threshold.

“Do you want a drink?” he asks as you sit down on one of the cushions at the small table where you’d first met Hyunjin. He’s hovering by the kitchen, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else than here with you.

“I’m fine.”

He rocks back and forth on his heels for a moment then joins you at the table. You wait for him to speak; to explain. He taps his nails on the wood, the only sound in the room for a minute or two.

“I didn’t… want to hurt you. You seem nice,” he says, still tapping on the table.

You seem nice. Not exactly how you expected your soulmate to feel about you.

He flattens his palm against the surface of the table, then continues. “Has Hyunjin told you about… what happened? With his—”

“Yes.”

“He’s been here for me through a lot. I owed him this.”

You clench your fists in your lap, struggling to contain the sharp anger that bursts in your chest. You take a deep breath before speaking. “What about me?” you say. His brows furrow, like he doesn't understand what you have to do with any of this. Your nails cut into your palms. “You did ‘this’ as a favour to him. What about me?”

His palm curls into a fist on the table. “I don’t… owe you anything.”

“You don’t?”

“I don’t know you.”

“That’s the thing though, isn’t it? You don’t know me and you never wanted to know me. Hyunjin wanted you to try. That’s what he wanted from you and if you didn’t want to do that you owed me the courtesy of telling me. Instead you strung me along for weeks and then when we met didn’t say a thing about being there against your will.”

He’d taken 3 weeks to agree to meet you. You’d done the same, but he’d done it because he didn’t care. You did it because you cared too much.

“I had… to sort some things out before I could agree to meet you.”

“What things?”

His eyes drop to his phone, sitting on the table between you. “I needed to explain it to someone.”

He means the girl. The girl he loves instead of you. "That's what you were doing for 3 weeks?? Fucking her?!"

He looks up at you, brows raised. He scoffs, snatching his phone from the table and standing. "So what if I was? And don't act like I fucked you over, you took just as long."

You grab your bag, jumping to your feet. "I was questioning if I was good enough for you! I was sitting around feeling shit about myself and the entire time you were fucking the girl you love."

"You're acting like I was cheating on you,” he throws his hands up in the air, then points his phone at you. “I had no fucking clue you existed."

"You did though, you knew I existed. You just didn't know my name or my face."

"Same thing."

"No, it's not. You knew I was waiting for you. That I was thinking we were it. That we were meant for each other—”

"Maybe we're not,” he says quickly.

Both your chests are rising and falling rapidly as you catch your breaths. You step around the table slowly, moving closer towards him. He takes one small step back as you press your finger to his chest. It’s still rising and falling quickly, his breath mingling with yours. “You’ll regret letting me go. You don’t deserve me,” you warn, just above a whisper. His warm breath brushes against your skin and then his eyes drop to your lips. He takes a large step away from you, mouth pursed tight.

please reblog and share your thoughts. caption, tags, replies, or ask box, i read it all. feedback is what motivates me to write more!

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parasolyaa · 28 days

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give me rtc character hcs for being in the subway for the first time

i love how this implies that they’ve never been in the subway before. well, since most of them almost never left uranium, this checks.

ocean — she always advocated for public transportation (and for some reason believed it wasn’t widely used, probably because she assumed everyone could use a car and subway was for noble people who cared for the environment), but if she ever went to a big city, she never stayed there for long, and usually walked by foot. when she actually used the subway for the first time, she decided to hand out flyers that said something like “thank you for choosing public transit! here are some other ways you can help the planet (…)”. ended up absolutely overwhelmed and in a taxi, wiping tears with the flyers no-one seemed to like. wonder why.

noel — romanticized the shit out of paris metropolitan, said he researched all about it and prided himself on being more knowledgeable of it than a local. when he got to go to france (probs a family/school trip when he was a teen) he bought an overpriced graphic t-shirt with the metropolitan map and confidently entered the underground. immediately got disappointed it wasn’t all gothic catacombs, and accidentally sat on a wrong train. had to take off his t-shirt and figure out where he was, and after two hours of being chest naked in the french underground and hopping from one wrong train to another even wronger train a kind passer-by pointed out that the print on his tee was of marseille, not paris. he spent an extra hour figuring out the correct map and asking for directions in broken french (the locals despised him). he entirely missed the drag show he waited for, and ever since then grew to hate the french underground.

mischa — is in on a ukrainian inside joke about metro in odesa. successfuly convinced all choir that there’s metro in odesa. there is no metro in odesa.

there’s also a ukrainian book called toreadors from vasyukivka, where two boys want to build a metro in their village, so they dig a big hole in their yard and a cow accidentally falls into it. safe to say their idea doesn’t stick. at some point these boys get to kyiv and immediately get lost in metro there. that’s 100% mischa. he did this i was the cow.

also he always finds ways not to pay for his ride: jumps over the tourniquet’s, crawls under them, squeezes in with a person in front of him etc. sometimes gets extremely bored and hides in a train wagon when it reaches the final stop, and stays in it when it goes to depo.

ricky — his parents drove him everywhere by car, and told the tales about toronto subway being inaccessible, dangerous and full of freaks. he never believed them. at some point (maybe in a trip with the choir) he got to travel by subway himslef. it was, in fact, a bit of an unpleasant experience, but he found out that it sucks on his own terms and was lowkey proud.

also he was listening to some cringefail furry music (i do not know if furry music is a thing but it will be now) and realised his earphones disconnected and he was blasting it to everyone only after he got home.

penny — had a secret hiding spot in toronto subway where she could keep her things and return to see them intact. she and ezra hid there often and spied on people, sometimes picking up what fell out of their purses — like pieces of candy or pennies (get it? penny? pennies? penis?). they never stayed there for long tho cause it was too overwhelmingly loud.

one time she went to that place and realised some construction workers occupied it. she was emotionally devastated.

constance — always saves the seat for the elderly, disabled and other people who might need it, and people always thank her plenty when she does so. actually never ever sat on a train seat unless the wagon was mostly empty. however, one times she had a horribly tiring + devastating + bad day and decided to sit down for once. got called 10 slurs by an old guy who didn’t see there was another free seat and ocean then told her she should have thought about others first. when she got home she wrote an angry vent in her musical diary (yk, the ones that open with a password and then play a one direction song or smth) with a fluffy pen.

+ talia — she is a subway rat. has a love/hate relationship with obolon station. has beef with pochayna station. she herself is from solomyanka region of kyiv where there is no subway. considers it her curse.

thank you folks for reading this, feel free to send me asks for headcanons!

#ride the cyclone #rtc #ocean o'connell rosenberg #ocean rosenberg #noel gruber #mischa bachinski #misha bachinskyi #ricky potts #penny lamb #constance blackwood #talia bolinska #talia moruska bolinska

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docholligay · 3 months

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NOW FOR PART 2, WHICH YOU CARE EVEN LESS ABOUT BUT YOU LITERALLY ASKED: The Overwatch gals.

Hana: I had to actually do research (ugh) for this one, because I know she'd be into whatever young people are wearing, because despite her best efforts and calculated marketing and overwhelming responsibility, she actually is a Young People. Young people in the US and Europe overwhelmingly wear vanillas and gourmands, but young people in Korea have much more affection for florals, which are considered more 'mature' in the western markets.* So. I wanted to find something floral but softer and with a bit of the sweet brightness that is identified with a lot of 'young' perfumes. Finally got to smell my frontrunners in Harrods this winter.

La Tulipe by Byredo. Byredo makes some FANTASTIC stuff but by God are they expensive (she wouldn't have to care anyhow) so it took me a long while to get a chance to smell this one. Even buying a decant, how I normally do perfume, was spendy. But it is exactly what I want, almost a top jammy note with this gorgeous subtle floral. It's young, but 'grown up' and composed. (the second frontrunner was Jo Malone's Wild Bluebell, but after smelling both, I think La Tulipe is right)

Fareeha. In much the same way, Fareeha's tastes are influenced by the middle east, though I know enough about that to not need to seek out stuff. She was actually extremely easy. I knew it the second I smelled it, as in, I was walking by and had to walk back because I knew it.

Oud Wood by Tom Ford. It's masculine and commanding. This is a leader's perfume. It's a very well balanced oud fragrance, appropriate for Cairo or London. It really strikes that balance between Western and Arabic perfumery in a way only a handful of perfumes do, and the other ones I can think of have spice or floral notes I don't think Fareeha would like. The wood and amber notes really come through, and lend this air of mystery and purpose to the whole thing. it's a great perfume honestly.

Angela I see as only wearing perfume for special occasions not even in a "not like the other girls' way, but in a 'she struggles to prioritize and take care of herself' way that i see a lot of her 'sloppiness' coming out of. I think if she did have one, she would pick something sweet and warm and very 'comforting'. There are so so many choices in this vein that it was genuinely difficult for me, but I think I like what I ended up with.

Apple Brandy on the Rocks by Killian. Funnily enough, I thought I would like this for me, but i absolutely do not. It's giving boozy apple pie, which fits so well with my concept of Angela at her greatest and highest that I'm annoyed I didn't think of it years ago. It should have been a Fareeha-type situation.

Lena. I have had an idea of what Lena smells like for YEARS, but I could never find it. It's young but masculine leaning, the smell of citrus brightness and an old leather jacket. For years I was layering perfumes to sort of get there but was never happy with it, and then one day I sampled something offhand just in case and there it was.

Sicilian Leather by Memo Paris. Honestly, everything i have smelled in their leather line has been killer even if it's not for me to wear, so I didn't think it would be a waste. (I absolutely recommend trying some of their stuff) But the second i smelled this, it was THANK GOD FINALLY. It's so hard to find something that uses leather that is also bright and cheerful and young, but this is it. Orange oil and Cedar, and laying under that, a gorgeous leather accord. It's perfect.

OKAY SORRY TO SPEND SO MUCH TIME

*I love a floral, and not even a subtle young floral. Give me an old-money, faded debutante floral. Call me Buffy and set the table for six, Alice

#genuinely fucking love tlaking poerfume

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parachutingkitten · 22 days

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I’m gonna be honest it just sounds like you’re calling Sora a Mary Sue and I really don’t care for that because of how much the Mary Sue ‘critique’ is rooted in misogyny. I just don’t care at all for the term ‘sympathy card’ in regards to female characters when fandom and even society is just overwhelmingly critical of women. Like Misako for example.

I'm not gonna discount the idea that I don't like Sora because of some sort of internalized misogyny. It's certainly possible, and at the very least shouldn't be eliminated as a contributing factor. But I do think there's a bit more to my criticism than that.

For those who don't know, Mary Sue is a term that sprung up describing a particular brand of bad female character that's often a little too self insert-y. They're good at everything, naturally beautiful, have close to no actual flaws, and generally just don't feel like a real person. For the record, this is bad writing, and are valid things to criticize about any given character. Unfortunately, it has kind of been co-opted by idiots who just want a fancy way to hate on female characters, especially if they think they're 'too empowered'. This is not at all a valid criticism. The most prominent example of this sort of thing is probably Rey in the new Star Wars movies. A lot of people had criticisms that essentially boiled down to "her jedi powers are too powerful" which is kinda whack. Additionally, you'll notice that this criticism being used to describe solely female characters is a bit whack as well. The fact that even the original version of the criticism is specifically about female characters does taint it a bit. All characters can feel fanfic-y, unflawed, and overly bland no matter the gender. For this reason, even if I do feel a character fits the Mary Sue criticism, I try to avoid the term. It's fine that the name originated from a female character, but the fact that it's seen as a female only criticism inherently makes the criticism slightly suspect.

Anyway, back to ninjago.

As for your misako example, I feel like she's a prime target for a mary sue criticism. She's overly kind and composed at all times. She's so attractive that she's the center of a decades long love triangle. She's pretty much good at everything she picks up, and rarely ever has a moment where the narrative criticizes her. That fits a lot of the mary sue criticisms, and I will say that her having a few more flaws, getting into a messy divorce, or being paranoid about how leaving her kid affected him, would probably make her a better and more interesting character. I don't really think she's too overpowered, I think it all seems pretty believable for her circumstances, but if she were to become a more prominent cast member, I could see the need to nerf her a bit. Now, the important thing to note here is that none of this information should make you hate her like... personally, as a character. You should not demonize her for being poorly written. The misako vitriol is way crazy, and though it all sources from some sort of valid criticism, it ends in people making hate posts about her, vilifying her, and blaming her for a bunch of other stuff she isn't even responsible for, when she is entirely a victim of bad writing and nothing else. The way things are presented in narrative, she has done nothing wrong. She made a hard moral choice about her kid a long time ago, which has since been long forgiven, and she's been a saint since then. There is no actual reason to hate her. Again, it's the writers who should be absorbing that frustration from you.

And this is the problem we run up against when talking about characters who circle anywhere near mary sue territory. Most of the time, there are valid criticisms at the core of whatever we're talking about, but if you express them incorrectly, you run the risk of riding a hate train you don't mean to be on. I would like to make clear that no matter what I'm saying here, I don't hate Sora personally. I'm just not connecting with her- and that's fine. Most importantly, in no way do I blame her for that, I blame the (male) writers who had majority control over her portrayal. If anything, I think Sora deserves better.

Now, I listed a lot of reasons I don't like Sora, but admittedly a lot of them boil down to her feeling very main character-y, which is in fact adjacent to a Mary Sue criticism. However, I made this pretty clear in the post that these tend to be tropes I just don't personally latch on to. I hated Lloyd for years while his shtick was the whole "I'm the most important person in the world and it's so hard" thing, but that mellowed out in the eleven minute era and I like him a lot better now! I tend not to like Kai's main character moments. I absolutely despise Jay in Skybound, and Cole isn't particularly interesting in MotM to me. Main characters just aren't my jam. I like Sora much better in season two, when her struggle isn't centered on how important she is, just like all these other characters. So, I think this line of criticism is pretty typical for me, regardless of gender.

The other factor at play is the entire show of Dragon's Rising. I am not connecting with it. I think a lot of the show tends to be signaling the right story beats to gain sympathy and feel deep. It's not a Sora specific criticism. I have a whole long rant about the nightmare scene specifically and several thoughts on how they handle Lloyd's panic attacks which I feel sort of encapsulate my feelings towards a lot of the writing in general. It's surface level. It doesn't have ideas it really wants to share, it has time to fill and some topics they've seen better media cover, and so feel they should include to be meaningful. It feels very by the book. They've plugged in the equation for good storytelling without adding anything to it. And this is how I feel about Sora as well, go figure. I don’t think they wanted to tell a story about a child genius who gets their work turned against them in order to express any ideas or explore any concepts, they did it cuz it's cool, and sounds like a dramatic storyline. It's a bunch of cliche's, unfortunately one's that I'm not partial to, slapped together with no new twist or spark to them. It's fine. It's competent. It's just not interesting to me.

In that way, I think my criticisms are Mary Sue adjacent. It feels a little fanfic-y. The characters feel like they're made to be "ninjago but like with angst you guys!" But this goes for a lot of the other characters too, not just Sora. Lloyd is pretty bad about this in part 2, I'm already getting these vibes from Jay, Arin slips into it in part 2 and I think Nya has it a bit across the board. But Sora, being the main character for season 1, unfortunately feels the most main character-y.

I understand that 'sympathy cheat code' might sound a little dismissive, so if you prefer you can reword my criticism to "does not utilize the backstory tropes they've included in a way that feels genuine or deeper than surface level". But you've got to admit, Sora does have, just a bunch of those feel bad tropes in her backstory, and a lot of the screentime is dedicated to laying that backstory out to you in season one. I am not accustomed to ninjago being a feel bad show. That's not what I'm in this game for. It's the reason I hate skybound. I didn't like it when they did it to jay, and I don't like it when they do it to sora. It just feels a little repetitive to me. None of these cliche's really shine as being particularly well done either, aside from maybe the climax where she turns away from her parents? But even then, I don't feel it was really built up to especially well. The main relationship she seems to care about is Dr. LaRow, not her parents. She seemed pretty secure in her identity when separated from Imperium, so asserting it doesn't mean a whole lot. We don't feel betrayed by her parents, because we never got to like them in the first place. That wasn't a support system we ever saw her benefit from, so her leaving it behind doesn't really mean much. These same tropes could have been played a lot better if they just had a bit more depth to their implementation that actually invited you to care beyond a surface level.

If you've seen the mega video, you'll know I don't typically relate to female characters who have a pronounced tough cynical streak in them, but am sure to make clear that it's just a character type preference. The stem girl isn't a bad character type at all, just pretty overplayed at this point in time (again, because i think male writers see it as an easy way to be clear they want to empower their female characters).

Idk. I think Sora's writing is a little hollow. I also think Dragons Rising's writing is a little hollow. I can see how those criticisms might come off a little iffy in isolation but, the ask was about Sora, so that's largely what I focused on. I think the criticism makes sense within the larger context of my opinions as a whole.

#i don't necessarily think i would even label sora as a mary sue #i think her power level is fine #which is the defining factor #it's just those main character tropes #asks #thanks anon!#ninjago #dragons rising #sora ninjago #lloyd ninjago

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jennycalendar · 1 year

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so. jenny lives timeline. when in s6 do calendiles have this breakup, does giles still go to england, is it still tabula rasa or do you place it somewhere else? does jenny stick around the scoobies and what happens with them when he comes back? is he feeling some (irrational) type of way towards jenny for willow going downhill "on her watch"? (or does s6 willow not happen like that in the jenny lives timeline?) what's buffy's feeling about jenny after giles peaces out? *sits cross-legged in front of the storytime chair*

oh BOY this is a fun ask. you literally never disappoint carolina i'm blowing u a kiss.

essentially, giles and jenny spend season six pre-buffy's resurrection having this very complicated thing going on, because this is a version of giles who has Lost His Daughter in a way that is much more difficult for him than in canon. giles in canon sorta deliberately cultivated emotional distance and detachment after jenny's death, but i think that this version of giles definitely would have started looking at buffy differently and at the very least allowing himself to admit and inhabit his love for her -- focusing on trying to take care of her, because jenny is in turn there to encourage him and to affirm that what he wants can sometimes have an overwhelmingly positive outcome! (she is the living example of him Pursuing What He Wants, and in a timeline where this led to him finding a happy relationship with a long-term partner, i think that would have really impacted the way that he looks at some of the other things in his life that he wants, i.e. to take care of and be there for buffy. especially with jenny there actively going "yes definitely take care of and be there for buffy.")

thing is though -- and i have perhaps talked about this before -- when the gift rolls around, this means that giles is hit with buffy's death in full force, and also very probably feels that his approach and his support may have limited her in her slayer-ness, because of course he feels responsible. so he spirals out into this all-encompassing grief that pushes jenny into a position of having to shove her own down to take care of him (i wrote a fic about this a while back!) and tensions are building but he's not really cognizant of it because, again, he's miserable. meanwhile jenny has no respite because she is just going "he's the watcher, it's obviously harder on him" and refusing to engage with how much SHE also cares about and misses buffy! she is being the adult in sunnydale!

so when buffy DOES come back, giles doubles down into the more familiar canon attitude of holding buffy at arm's length, because in his grief he has just completely convinced himself that that's what's appropriate for him to do. meanwhile jenny obviously hasn't changed her mind about anything she's doing at all, in part because i don't think she would have felt so immediately responsible for buffy's death in the same way as giles (but also because she literally Has Not Had Time To Process Her Own Shit), so suddenly she and giles are having these FURIOUS fights because he is seriously considering jetting off to england and she thinks that choosing to leave when the kids need them there the most is Absolutely Insane.

which is to say: giles still goes to england. still around tabula rasa. jenny sticks around w/ the scoobies, and i haven't really 100 percent charted out/settled on the ways that willow's own journey changes, but i am sorta enamored with the idea that not a lot about season six changes very much? willow definitely has this incredible intense downward spiral marked by antipathy towards jenny, who is constantly struggling to reach her. i'm on the fence re: xander and anya, because i think it really would impact xander in a big way to be around a committed, loving, supernatural-fighting couple through his formative teenage years, but i also think that seeing that couple break up right before his own impending nuptials might SIMILARLY really impact him.

buffy changes though! i think it would really floor her that jenny chose her over giles. this is probably the season where they end up actually getting closer in a way that's less superficial and nervous, especially since jenny is very team Buffy Needs Support In A Big Way. what i would really want as a theme is that jenny is making small amounts of positive change, but the overarching structure of everything stays the same, which in turn makes her convinced that she Isn't Helping and that Giles Was Right (when in reality what's happening is that, after such a long time working as part of a team to help keep these kids on the straight and narrow, she's floundering without her partner! she misses him! but of COURSE she is still doing good stuff here!)

i haven't really decided how far the willow thing goes. there is a part of me that's very attached to the horrible tragedy of all of it unfolding exactly the same way, especially because i think the giles/jenny confrontation at the end of season six would be A LOT. i like the idea of jenny reaching out to giles and saying "the kids need help, willow ESPECIALLY needs help" and giles brushing her off because he sees this as a continuation of their argument instead of an actual assessment, and then of course she's right and it all goes to shit and he comes back very gentle and apologetic and she is FURIOUS at him. especially furious because he's so much more what she remembers and loves, and she doesn't get the catharsis of being angry at someone who is being belligerent and shitty! but i ALSO like the idea of jenny NOT reaching out and trying to handle it on her own and being so humiliated and miserable by her perceived failure, and then giles coming in and seeing all of the little changes that she doesn't notice (buffy is emotionally present and comfortable with jenny in a way that did not exist before! post-breakup anya has a place in the group beyond Xander's Girlfriend, at jenny's insistence! pretty much all of the kids are so much more protective of jenny and SOOOO much less Team Giles about it, which in this weird way DEFINITELY makes giles really happy. like that IS his precious babe and she SHOULD be appreciated by the kids for it), & subsequently affirming that she did all she could!

also, post finale giles and jenny definitely have some very emotional poorly planned we-didn't-die sex after willow almost ends the world, and then jenny hits him with "i want a divorce." (what really happens is that giles takes this proclamation super seriously, as one would expect, and then jenny spends the first half of season seven being really weird and squirrelly and dodging all communication and never actually serving him with divorce papers. so they're sorta Loosely Separated for a while but it is very clear to all EXTERNAL parties that there is no breakup happening.)

#asks #scenes from the jenny lives timeline #this is all very loose and subject to change because it lives in my head!#someday i will stitch it all together into a real narrative #but for now: storytime chair :)

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anxiousnerdwritings · 2 years

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I can't get it out of my head if Cersei had married Rhaegar (instead of Aerys denying him agreeing) and they had a child and go yandere (platonic) for her/him. Like, would she still envolved with Jaime? Since she was in love with Rhaegar 👀

In my personal opinion, I don’t believe that Cersei was ever truly in love with Rhaegar. I have no doubt that she was in love with the idea of him and the life she would have with him but I don’t believe she ever loved him. I don’t think she could really love anything or anyone other than herself. With that said though I do think she would have been much more content in her marriage with Rhaegar compared to her marriage with Robert and therefore she wouldn’t indulge herself in Jaime as much or if at all again. I think if anything she would even go as far as distancing herself from him, especially after having her and Rhaegar’s baby. Mostly due to her having her own family now, her own little world that didn’t really concern Jaime anymore. She wouldn’t have much of a need for him after she gets with Rhaegar.

As yan!parents, Cersei would be extremely overprotective and possessive towards their child while Rhaegar would be obsessive. Given how his relationship with his father deteriorated the way it did, Rhaegar would vow to never let that happen with his own child. He’s going to hold on tight to his bby and make sure they’re happy and loved. Not to mention a he’d be a tad bit delusional, they both would be. Sometimes even feeding into each other’s delusions and their general paranoia over their child. These two would hover over their child, overwhelmingly so. There wouldn’t be much their child could do without being under the watchful eyes of their parents.

Rhaegar and Cersei would most likely have more then one child and all their children would be loved and coddled. But one child would be just a little more favored over the others and it would no doubt be the oldest. Their first born will always be their precious bby no matter what and nothing could ever change that for Rhaegar or Cersei.

Neither, Cersei nor Rhaegar would want to marry off their precious child. They couldn’t possibly bear it. Cersei wouldn’t be able to trust anyone to love and or care for her child the way they deserve. She couldn’t even try and pretend to, nor would she want to. Rhaegar would be no better, he couldn’t possibly fathom the thought of parting with his child. Even if they weren’t to leave him physically, he would only see a marriage/betrothal as a way of cutting ties with him emotionally or mentally. And he can’t have that. When he vowed to never let go of his child, he meant it.

Also, with yan!dad!Rhaegar comes yan!uncle!Arthur Dayne. Talk about overbearing and overprotective. Rhaegar and Cersei’s child will know nothing but smothering love and overwhelming protection.

#anxious answers #yandere cersei lannister #yandere rhaegar targaryen #yandere game of thrones #yandere game of thrones concept #yandere concept #game of thrones imagine

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moni-logues · 1 year

Text

A Fine Line 11

Pairing: Namjoon x f!reader

Genre: roommates/enemies-to-lovers, non-idol!au, smut, angst

Word count: 6.7k

Summary: It’s time to rebuild your life. You’ve got a new job, a new apartment, and a future that might be bright. The only problem? Your new roommate.

Content: unprotected sex, oral sex (f. receiving)

Chapter Ten | Masterlist | Epilogue 1

11 - Luxury

You expected it to feel heavy. You expected to feel the weight of this… this something, this expectation, this obligation. You thought you’d feel pressure to fix yourself immediately, to work things out and get things together as soon as you could, sooner. You thought it would crush you, the way so many things had over the past eight months.

You didn’t expect to feel sad. Suddenly, overwhelmingly sad for two full days. Sad about the end of your marriage, not because you missed your husband or regretted leaving, but because of what it could have been, should have been, and wasn’t. No one goes into their marriage expecting it to end; no one says ‘I do’ with any kind of caveat. Yet here you were. Still married, technically, but not really. Separated. You thought about your younger self, on your wedding day, on your honeymoon, on the last day you were truly happy before he confronted you with the truth he had been hiding from you forever. You were sad about everything you had hoped for and everything you had dreamt of and none of it, not a bit, coming true. Nothing had gone as you thought it would and you were now almost 30 and had spent your whole twenties locked into this mess. You were sad that this was the future your younger self had been led to. She wouldn’t be getting any of that time back. You wouldn’t be getting happiness in lieu of the lack of hers. She felt like a different person and you were sad, sorry for her. But you were grateful to be you. You’d be getting nothing back from that life and you realised you didn’t want anything. The things you’d pawned for money (valuables, family heirlooms) were long gone and there wasn’t anything else you missed.

You felt light. Lighter than you had felt for a very long time. And you were surprised to find that you didn’t mistrust it. You didn’t shy from it or try to twist it into something worse. You wore it and it was easy. This was new for you.

“So you’re going to be with him?” Lina asked over her wine glass on Tuesday evening.

“Well, yes, I just… I am, I want to, but-”

You had been thinking this over the past few days. You’d been getting your ducks in a row like you said you would. You were looking at things differently now, letting things fall into places they should have been sitting for some time. You could see clearly there was a path in front of you and all you had to do was follow it. So why hadn’t you leapt into Namjoon’s arms already?

“I don’t want to be taken care of,” you told Lina. “I don’t want him to look at me like I’m vulnerable or pitiable or like he has to provide for me or something, y’know? I almost regret telling him everything because now it feels like it’s in the way. It was in the way before, too, but differently, and now I can’t get past the idea that he wants to fix me. I don’t want him to.”

“Have you tried telling him this?”

“Not yet.”

Lina rolled her eyes.

“At what point, y/n, are you going to learn to actually communicate?”

“Give me a fucking break! This has been hard for me!”

“Yeah, and you know why it’s been hard? Because you’re a terrible communicator!”

You kicked her from your end of the sofa and pulled a face at her.

“Maybe he doesn’t want to fix you.”

“I think he does. You didn’t see how he looked at me. The kindness-”

“For the love of god, don’t tell me you’re criticising him for being kind.”

“I’m not criticising! I’m just saying that he’s kind and he’s nice and he’s rich and successful and I’m like a baby bird who fell out of her nest into his apartment; wouldn’t you want to fix me?”

“I see your point. But, based on what you’ve told me, it’s not exactly like he’s been treating you with kid gloves this whole time, is it? He seems pretty happy to a) throw you around and b) argue with you and call you on shit. Don’t project your insecurity onto him. If you feel you need to be fixed, maybe that’s your problem.”

“Oh, fuck off! Can’t you just be wrong about something for once?”

It had been nice between you and Namjoon since the weekend. Companiable. You talked, had actual conversations and not arguments. Neither of you defensive any longer, neither trying to hide. You cooked for the two of you; he washed up. You sat together: you watched TV while he read or you read while he worked or some other permutation of quiet activities you did separately, but together. He hadn’t mentioned a thing about being together, about what progress you were making, about when you would be able to be his. You were sleeping in your own bed again and he didn’t mention that, either. Little touches here and there were all you had and you were desperate for more, aching for him, but there was an unspoken agreement between the two of you that all of that, even the lightest, smallest of kisses, had to wait.

You sat at the dinner table, finishing your meal, when Namjoon came back from work.

“Hey,” you said, putting down your cutlery. You vaguely gestured to the seat opposite you and he sat, surprised. “I just want to say something.”

“Ok.”

“I don’t really know how to say this because I think it’s probably just me, but I, uh, am basically poor. And you are basically rich. And I don’t have my shit together, at all. And you do, or at least you mostly appear to. I have been acting out most of the time that we’ve known each other because my life fell apart and I didn’t know what to do about it and you, uh, I don’t know, have mostly acted I guess normally? Or fine, probably not honourably but y’know.”

“Ok.”

“I just… We’re- our lives are in different stages and mine is kind of embryonic right now and I just… I need it to be mine. I don’t want you to… well, not help, because that sounds bad, but I don’t want you-”

“I don’t want to control your life. I’m not going to try to do that. I want you to have your own life, whatever kind of life you want. I don’t want to change you or control you.”

“I don’t want you to try to fix me.”

“Ohh. And what does fixing you look like?”

“Uh, I don’t know, really. I guess don’t try to solve all my problems? Or maybe, wait until I ask for help instead of leaping in?”

He blushed, deeper than you’d ever seen him blush before and he grimaced.

“Well, this is a little bit awkward.”

“What?”

Namjoon sighed and took an envelope out of his bag and, out of that envelope, a sheaf of paper.

“Um… Here.” He lay the papers on the table between you. “They are my bank statements: current account, business account, savings accounts, pension, private pension, investment portfolio, stuff like that. Also, business cards for my financial advisor, investment account manager, and accountant… who have all already agreed you can talk to them about me.”

You just stared back at him, nonplussed.

“I know it’s not about the money- it’s not just about the money, but I wanted you to know that that’s not a concern, that wouldn’t be an issue. You don’t have to worry about it, or anything. I can- uh, well, I was going to say I can take care of you but not in a paternalistic kind of way! I know you can take care of yourself. I just… I want to show you that, that… I want you to have everything you want. And I want to be the one who gives it to you and I want to prove to you that I can. And I have nothing to hide from you. Promise.”

“Oh.”

You didn’t know what to say. You were dying with curiosity to know just exactly how much money he had; you weren’t sure that was a very good colour on you.

“I can take them back,” he said quickly, reaching out a hand for the papers.

“No,” you responded, just as quickly. “If you want to brag about all your riches, I’ll let you.”

“It’s not like that!”

You laughed.

“I know it’s not. Thank you. For the thought. I, um, I don’t really know how to take it.”

“Sorry.”

“No, I appreciate it, I think. It’s nice. It’s weird. I don’t… I’m not interested in taking your money.”

“I know! I didn’t mean that! I wasn’t trying to imply that you were.”

A silence fell upon you, slightly awkward but with good intentions. Namjoon was the first to break it.

“But… But if yo-… How much is your debt?”

Your face burnt immediately. You didn’t want to tell him. It was too much, much too much.

“You don’t have to tell me.”

“It’s… more than I earn in a year… Less than… I don’t know- um…” You grabbed the bank statement on the top of the pile and had to do a double-take when you saw the balance. Your mouth hung open. You checked: current account statement. You had never seen that many figures in a bank balance in your life. “But less than-” your voice was hoarse with shock. “Less than you have in your account right now.”

You lapsed back into silence as you checked the rest of his statements. He had so much money, it made you anxious; your stomach started churning and your pulse quickened. Your mouth went suddenly dry and you could hear a ringing in your ears. These numbers were huge, terrifying, intimidating, overwhelming. Your heart was in your throat and you couldn’t breathe. You looked at Namjoon, eyes wide, and clutched at your chest, willing it to open up and allow you to take a breath, but it wouldn’t. You tried to stand up from the table, but the chair fell back behind you and you caught your foot on it, falling to the floor with a hard crash.

Namjoon was at your side in a second, saying something but you couldn’t hear him. Were you having a heart attack? Was it a stroke? An aneurysm? You didn’t know and it made the panic worse.

Namjoon was holding you tight, pushing your hair off your face, his words coming at you like the teacher in Charlie Brown: indistinct, unheard. You clutched the front of his shirt and looked up at him, desperate, pleading. He squeezed tighter, his arms gently crushing you.

You thought it would go on forever; it already felt like it had been forever that you hadn’t been able to breathe, but eventually, slowly, you realised you could hear Namjoon’s voice, feel it rumbling in his chest.

“It’s ok,” he was saying. “I’m here. I’m here. You’ll be ok. I’ve got you. You’re going to be fine.”

You pushed back lightly on his chest and his arms loosened, but didn’t let you go. You wrapped your arms around his neck and hooked your chin over his shoulder, just holding on. He rubbed your back and stroked your hair and waited until you sank back down, curling into him again.

“Are you ok?” he asked. “Tell me what you need if you can.”

You shook your head and opened your mouth to speak but nothing would come out. As if your throat was somehow blocked, you couldn’t make a sound and the panic surged again and you looked at Namjoon, wild-eyed and frantic, for him to do something as you started hyperventilating again.

He pulled you in close, his strong arms holding you tight.

“It’s ok,” he said. “Don’t talk. It’s ok. I’m sorry. It’s ok. You’re safe, I promise. I promise.”

You waited longer, this time, until you could breathe again and hear and see. You were gently weeping, your breath shaky but there, and he still didn’t let you go.

“I’m ok,” you croaked. “I think I’m ok.”

“I’ll get you some water,” he replied, but you didn’t let him take his arms from around you.

You shook your head and held him tight.

“Ok, I won’t go. I won’t go anywhere. I’m here.”

You sat like that a while longer, until you could no longer feel your heart beating against your ribs. You shuffled, stiff from having stayed still for so long.

“Sorry,” you said to Namjoon. “You must be so uncomfortable on the hard floor.”

He chuckled.

“I’m ok. I’m fine. Are you ok?”

“Yes. Sorry-”

“Don’t apologise. It’s ok. As long as you’re ok.”

You nodded.

“Was that your first panic attack?”

“Oh… That’s what it was… Yes.”

“Rough?”

“I thought I was going to die.”

He rubbed your back and hummed.

“Not on my watch.” He paused. “Do you want to talk about it? Should I- did I-… Was it because of me?”

You didn’t know how to answer that question. Yes. No. Both true. Both inaccurate. You answered with the simplest fact you knew.

“I’ve never seen that much money before.”

“And it gave you a panic attack?”

“I don’t know. I just… I thought about losing it all. All of that money just gone, disappearing. I thought about the responsibility of it, having all of that, losing it.”

You felt your pulse quicken and you had to stop, stop talking about it, stop remembering it.

“But you won’t lose it. It’s mine, for a start.” He poked you in the side and you squirmed. “And you didn’t lose any money; you didn’t have any because your husband lost it. That’s not your fault.”

“His money and my money were the same. It all just disappeared. And those numbers-” you glanced up at the table top where the bank statements still lay – “they were so big. I just couldn’t think about it. How do you… How do you cope with having that much money?”

“I promise you, it’s real fucking easy.”

“But I mean… You must not have to worry about anything. You’re- you’re safe. You’re secure. You could get fired and just… be fine for ages. You could live anywhere. You could buy anything you want. I don’t know- I don’t know how to live like that.”

He gave you a soft squeeze and pressed his lips into your hair.

“That’s a really sad thing you’ve just said.”

“Maybe-”

And then it hit you. All of Namjoon’s money, his wealth, his passive income… He was free. Free in a way you had never been and could never hope to be. It was freedom that made you panic; freedom that you couldn’t have, the possibility of which had been taken away from you. You were trapped, you realised. You were still trapped. You left your husband, left your cage, but you were still in debt, trapped as it bled you slowly and would do for years and years to come. The end was barely in sight. And even once your debts were paid, you wouldn’t be free. You wouldn’t have investments; you would have a new savings account, absolutely empty. It was never just about money; the absence of money in your life was also an absence of freedom and the thought of that money, all Namjoon’s money, just going away, all that freedom gone… You couldn’t bear it. And that was what was different between you; your lives would never be the same, could never be the same.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I wasn’t trying to make you feel bad or show off or anything. I just wanted you to know that I’m not him. I’m not like him. I promise.”

Silence fell and you didn’t know what to say to fill it, so you let it linger.

“Look, I know you said you don’t want me to fix you or offer you help when you haven’t asked and I know you said you don’t want my money but… Would you let me pay off your debt?”

“What?”

“Let me pay off your debt. You said yourself it’s less than I have in my current account. I can do it. Easy. Will you let me?”

“Why, why- why… I… wh- why would you do that?”

“So you don’t have to.” He shrugged and you could not believe his nonchalance.

“I don’t understand. Why would you? Why would you want to do that?”

“Because I can. How long will it take you to be debt-free?”

“If I stick to my debt management plan, I will make my final payment in 2030.”

“In eight years?”

“Yes.”

“I could pay that literally right this second. Look.”

He stretched up to grab the statements from the table and flicked through them until he found the right one.

“Look here,” he said, pointing at the very same bank balance to which you had compared your debt. “This is money I have access to right now. I could go to the bank and have this money immediately. Well, actually, I don’t know how much cash they hold in banks, so maybe I couldn’t, but I could transfer it to you immediately. You can have it. You can pay off your debt. You can. I want you to. I want to do that for you. I’m not trying to control you, I swear. And, actually-”

He shuffled on the floor next to you and turned so you were facing each other and he gripped you by the arm. He looked determined, excited. You hadn’t seen him like this before and you didn’t know how to take it.

“Look, even if you reject me, if you don’t want me, if you don’t want to be with me, if I gave you the money and you paid off your debt and then immediately moved out and never spoke to me again, I wouldn’t come after you. You can have it. Just have it. Take it.”

“I just don’t understand.”

You had been so careful with money for so long, you’d had to be, that hearing him say things like that was like hearing a foreign language. You couldn’t believe anyone would just give up that much money. It was so much. Too much.

“It’s so much money,” you whispered, overawed by his offer, still embarrassed by your circumstances.

“I mean, not to be a huge dick, but… It’s not. Not to me.”

His gaze softened and he let his hand drift to your knee.

“You don’t have to take it. No pressure. You don’t have to take it; you don’t have to be with me, even. I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to. But I want you to want to take it and I want you to want to be with me. I know you have your ducks to get in a row and I want to be a duck and I don’t want this to… to change anything. I’m sorry if I’m out of line, but I care about you and I want you to have this. I want you to have the life you deserve and, if I can help, I want to help.”

You almost swore you saw a light blush on his cheeks as he said it, as he looked at you, more openly than he ever had. Your stomach lurched and you didn’t know if it was the panic attack or him; your heart thumped again in your chest and you didn’t know if it was anxiety or him.

“I don’t know,” you said, a little plaintive.

“That’s ok. Take your time.”

He took your face in his hands, gently, carefully, and kissed you above your eyebrow. He lingered like that, just a second, and pressed another, lighter kiss in the same spot. Butterflies swarmed in your stomach and you knew it was him, this time. You grabbed his wrists, holding his hands against your cheeks. He moved his face backwards and looked at you, searchingly.

“Can you, can you please kiss me?” You were breathless already.

He frowned at you, hesitating, unsure.

“Please,” you repeated. “Please just kiss me.”

He moved his face closer again, still hesitant, his eyes fixed on yours, even as he nudged your nose with his. You closed the gap between you and pressed your lips against his.

The reaction in you was instantaneous. Your body called for him with urgent longing. You felt it even in your bones, this aching. You rose on your knees, pulling him with you, just so you could press your bodies together, holding him tight with your hands around his hips. Then he pulled back, breaking the kiss, but staying close. You looked at him and he closed his eyes, shook his head, swallowed hard.

“I don’t,” he started and then stopped.

“Don’t what?”

“I don’t want to have you if I can’t have you,” he said, his voice low. “I don’t want to have you one more time if I can’t have you a hundred times after that. You needed time and I want to give you that time. You weren‘t ready and I don’t wan- If you’re not ready, it’s fine. It’s ok, but I want… I want this to matter. It matters to me.”

“It matters to me, too.”

You sighed and sank back onto your knees. You hadn’t been ready before and you weren’t one hundred percent sure you were now, not really. You didn’t know how to understand it, how to make him understand it.

“I don’t… It is the money, in a way. Like you said, it’s not about the money but it is about the money. I can’t match you on any of it. I can’t buy you nice presents or afford expensive holidays or dinners or clothes. I’m not… the sort of person you should be with.”

“I don’t care if you can’t afford those things. I can. I can afford them for both of us if you want them. I want you to be free to be whoever and whatever you want and, if I can buy that freedom, it’ll be the best fucking money I’ve ever spent in my life.”

You couldn’t think about it. It was too much: his generosity, his kindness, the possibility of being debt-free after all these years, the thought of having enough disposable income to make savings, to afford things? You felt dizzy with it. It was too much. You felt like you were wanting too much, being too greedy.

You looked at him. He looked at you.

“What if I want your money but not you?” you asked.

“Fine.” He shrugged. “Take it. I… You can take it. I won’t come after you, but… please don’t choose that option.”

“What if I want your money and you?”

“Ideal.” His smile split his face in half and his hands squeezed you lightly. “My preferred outcome.”

“What if I want you but not your money?”

“I will accept half of that decision and still try to convince you to take my money, at least some of it. If I’m honest.”

“What if I don’t want you or your money?”

He tipped his head back and grimaced playfully.

“Please, don’t.” He tapped his forehead against yours. “But I would obviously respect your decision; might even still try to convince you to take my money.”

“Would you kick me out?”

“No! Of course not!”

“Would you fuck me?”

“No.”

“Let me sleep in your bed?”

“No.”

“Kiss me, even a little?”

“No.”

“Hmm, I’m starting to see the appeal of this option…”

“Hey.” He nudged your nose and jiggled your hips. “Don’t be mean.”

You took his face in your hands and brought your lips together again. There was a small part of you furious with yourself for having foregone his kisses for so long. You wouldn’t make that mistake again.

“I don’t know,” you whispered, still shaken. “I-… You’re my final duck and I want you right there, here, but I feel… I don’t feel… I’m… You’re…”

“Just tell me,” he whispered back to you. “It’s ok, just say it.”

“I’m not good enough for you. I don’t deserve it.”

“Says who?”

“Um, I don’t know. I guess, me?”

“Well, no offence, but you’re dumb as fuck.”

“Hey!”

“I’m serious. That’s stupid. I’m old enough to make my own decisions, aren’t I? Aren’t you?”

You thought he was asking rhetorical questions but he waited for your answer.

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Well, then. And I’ve decided. I’ve told you. I want to be with you. Whether or not you take my money. And I want you to have my money whether or not you want to be with m-”

“I do want to be with you. I do. I meant it when I said it. I want it. Bu-”

“No. No buts. No ifs. No maybes. No justs. What do you want?”

Every cell in your body, every atom, called his name at once. Namjoon. Him. That’s what you wanted. And you wanted to be worthy of him. You didn’t feel it, but maybe that was your problem. It didn’t have to be his, too.

“I want you.”

He needed to hear no more. He kissed you and you expected it to be hard and hungry but he was soft and slow. Gentle, even as he sucked your bottom lip into his mouth and bit down on it. Slow, as he rolled his tongue over yours. Soft, peppering kisses all over, mapping your face with his lips.

“Namjoon,” you whispered, your voice high and needy.

You felt weak in his arms, melting against him, bones dissolving as your blood fizzed with pleasure. He murmured your name back to you and kissed your neck, pulling your hair aside and using it to tug your head to the side, still gentle, still soft. He stopped when you whimpered and he sucked at that spot, sending fresh waves of arousal coursing through you, pooling in your underwear. He slipped his hands underneath your T-shirt; his hands were warm against your skin, covering you, caressing you.

His lips found yours again and you sighed into his kiss, both impatient to touch him and be touched by him and also wanting this to last forever.

“I will eat you slowly with kisses,” you whispered when he let your mouth free.

“What?”

“It’s from a poem.”

You hummed against him when he kissed you and frowned, your mind searching, distracted by him.

“I can’t- I don’t remember the rest of it.”

He chuckled low in his throat.

“No need. I will eat you slowly with kisses. The end.”

He swallowed your reply with another kiss and then he stood, pulling you up with him. He lifted you and you wrapped your legs around him and kissed his face as he carried you to his bedroom.

He lay you gently on the bed and pushed up your T-shirt, pulling it over your head. You shivered and goosebumps spread over your skin when he put his lips on you. He was mapping your body, too, no spot left untouched or unexplored. You felt exposed, suddenly self-conscious under his rapt attention and you wanted to cover your nakedness. You thought about your body through his eyes: was it too small, too big, too bumpy? Too much, not enough? What was he looking at when he was looking at you, all your marks and scars and flaws? You hadn’t really cared before but, this was different. You instinctively brought your arms together, trying to cover your chest but Namjoon took your wrists and brought your hands high on either side of your head. He looked at you seriously.

“Hey, don’t hide from me. I want to see you. Let me look at you.”

And look at you, he did. He sat back, still holding your arms open, and let his eyes roam. Then he trailed his fingers down your arms, across your chest, and down, splaying over your stomach. He shuffled back and hooked his fingers in the waistband of your trousers. You tipped your hips to let him remove them without a second’s thought and then blushed deeply as he took your underwear with them and you were naked under that penetrating gaze. You tried to pull your legs up, cross them, do something, but he held you gently at the ankles and left kisses all over your legs. As his mouth moved up your thighs, your core throbbed and walls clenched, your emptiness wailing inside of you. A soft gasp of a moan left your lips as he skirted up your hips and crossed your stomach with his lips.

“Namjoon,” you whined, needy and impatient. He ignored you and continued his way back up to your face and he kissed your lips.

“See?” he asked. “It’s not so bad, is it? Being seen?”

“I don’t want to be seen; I want to be touched.”

He grinned.

“Oh, don’t worry, we’ll get there. Have patience.”

You sighed with frustration.

“Namjoon… You’re going to kill me,” you told him weakly.

“Only a little.”

He kissed your nose and moved back to your neck as his hand cupped your breast, fingers teasing at your nipple sending a shiver down your spine.

You relaxed into the mattress and let your mind empty, focusing only on what you could feel. Namjoon’s tongue licking over your breast, taking your nipple in his hot, wet mouth. His tongue was alternately soft and hard, teasing you to a hard peak, eliciting quiet whimpers from you as you grew more and more desperate to feel him inside you.

You wanted to tangle his hair in your fingers, but it was so short now, you had to settle for gripping it tight, just barely able to. You wanted to tug on it, pull him from your chest and push him down. For a brief second, you thought he might’ve cut it deliberately so you couldn’t, so he could have his way with you. At that second, he popped his mouth off you and finally made his way lower.

You were hypersensitive already with urgent need. You didn’t know if you could last another minute. Desire sat low in your abdomen, huge and heavy. You ached in your core while your walls squeezed against his absence, waiting and more than ready to feel him again. Your clit felt as if it was spitting sparks, swollen, throbbing, pulsing. As Namjoon made his way lower and lower, you thought you might just go off at the thought of him. The anticipation of his mouth against made you feel as if you’d had a straight gram of caffeine injected into your veins: you were jittery, shaky, almost dizzy with it.

He kissed your inner thigh – kissed, licked, sucked, nipped. He licked the full crease of your hip. He pushed your legs further apart and you were halfway through a sigh of relief when he moved his kisses farther away, down towards your knee, his hand grasping your thigh.

“Namjoon, fuck.” Your voice was tremulous, strained. “Please.”

“Y’know something?” he said, resting his cheek against your thigh and looking up at you. “I will never get tired of hearing you say that.” His smile was almost dreamy as he just looked at you, stroking your leg with one hand, with the other wrapped around your thigh.

“Can you please, please just touch me now? Fucking hell, I’m dying.”

He chuckled and pressed a kiss against your thigh.

“I just want to get to know your body.”

“You know it already! You know it, please.”

You fisted the bedsheets and threw your head back in frustration as he continued kissing down your legs. You were almost opening your mouth to tell him that this wasn’t fun anymore, when he finally put his mouth on you and licked through your folds. Your back arched instantly, a choked gasp where your admonition had been.

“Fucking finally,” you breathed and he pinched you in retaliation.

Soft curses left you as he sealed your clit with a kiss and slipped his fingers inside you. The pressure was building so quickly, you couldn’t catch your breath. Overwhelmed with pleasure, you were gasping for air; your head was buzzing as the ecstasy at your core coursed through your veins. You were so close, so close, and Namjoon stopped suddenly and looked up at you.

“Are you ok?”

“What? Yes, fuck, Namjoon, don’t fucking stop! I was fucking close.”

“You sounded like you were hyperventilating. I didn’t wa-”

“Namjoon, please, you can be as considerate as you like after I’ve fucking come. Please.”

“Ok ok! Yes, ma’am.”

You sighed a thank you as he resumed, taking his fingers from you to lick through your folds and drink you up. As he fucked you with his tongue, his fingers played at your clit and you were rising again, the dissipated pleasure back and then some. He swapped again, the soft plane of his tongue against your burning, sparking clit and his fingers crooked inside you. You were riding a wave that was about to crash with thunder onto the shore. You grabbed what you could of his hair and held him tight, desperate for him not to dare move; you were sure you’d explode if you didn’t come right then, right that second. And you did, tumbling into the sand as pleasure washed over and around you. Namjoon held fast as you shuddered and fell back, rocking you through your orgasm, and then he retreated, appearing in front of you as your head span.

“Can I ask if you’re ok now?”

“I’m good. I’m good.”

“Were you ok?”

“Yes, I was fine, I swear. It wasn’t panic. I’m fine. I’m good.”

“Good.”

He kissed your clavicle and you pushed a hand through his hair.

“Actually, I’m not good,” you said, pouting at him. Concern fell across his face again instantly.

“What’s wrong?”

You gave his short hair a sharp tug.

“I don’t like it.”

He was surprised, almost laughing, but not quite sure.

“You said it looked good.”

“It does, but it’s too short!” You demonstrated your inability to tangle your fingers in it and he laughed, surely this time.

“Ok, ok, I’ll grow it out. Will that make you happy?”

“Mm, yes please.”

You pulled his face to you and kissed him hard, tasting yourself on his lips, on his tongue. With your limbs still heavy, you pushed him backwards and around, sitting him against the headboard and climbing over him. You took his ready, leaking cock in your hand and rolled your hips, coating him in your slick before you sank slowly down on him, sighing through the stretch. At the bottom, you sat for a moment, ran your hands over his chest, down his arms; he caught your hands and raised them to his lips, kissing your palms, your fingertips. You felt warm, watching him, tracing his face with your fingers, goosebumps sprinkling across your skin wherever he ran his hands. You kissed him and he murmured against your lips.

“You feel so fucking good right now.”

You hummed your agreement. His head tipped back. You shuffled a little on top of him, canting your hips backwards and then forwards just once.

“Uh huh, so good. Keep doing that.”

But you didn’t and he flicked you on the hip. He brought his head back and looked at you, realisation dawning.

“Oh, this is payback, is it?” He circled his arms around you and pulled your body flush with his. “Fine. I don’t mind. I like being inside you.”

He might have been telling the truth that he liked being inside you but you could feel his heart fluttering in his chest, could feel the way he swallowed hard as you clenched against him, his breathing hitched for just a second. You kissed his jaw and his earlobe and his neck and he breathed out unevenly. You grazed your fingers over first one nipple and then the next. You blew, lightly, on his neck, sending a shiver down his spine and he grunted softly.

“I like you being inside me, too,” you said, also telling the truth, but equally, finding yourself frustrated at his stubbornness, his ability to hold out. You wanted to move, wanted to ride him into the sunset, but you had set this up and you wanted him to beg you.

He grunted again in response, his eyes closed.

“Namjoon,” you cooed, trying to call him back, but he gave nothing. “Joonie?”

His eyes flicked open and he looked at you.

“You like Joonie?”

“That’s not what you call me,” he said, his voice strained with the effort of keeping it level. You felt him twitch inside you and it spurred you on.

“No, but it could be. My Namjoon. My Joonie.”

His dick jumped each time you used the word ‘my’ and your heart swelled three sizes. You decided to be nice, go easy on him, and as you pressed your lips against his, you lifted up and slowly lowered yourself back onto him. He let out a shaky exhale and his hands gripped your hips.

“Do you feel good?”

He gave a moan that was almost a yelp in reply and turned his eyes skyward.

“There’s no one up there, Namjoon.”

He laughed, you thought, a strangled sound escaping from him as you moved faster, harder, slamming yourself onto him. The way he filled you up so completely made your head spin, every stroke adding fuel to the flames in your core. When Namjoon pressed his fingers against your clit, you had to dig into his shoulders, holding on tight.

“Yes, I feel good,” he moaned. “You feel fucking amazing. Shit.”

Your thighs were burning but you couldn’t tell if it was just because they were tired or you were close. You couldn’t stop, bouncing on him while your thighs screamed, while your cunt quivered, while your breath was swept away. You didn’t know if you would make it until you came, didn’t know if your legs would hold out, if you could keep up your rhythm as the pleasure poured over you, heavier and heavier.

“You’re close,” Namjoon groaned, his teeth gritted, voice harsh and gruff.

“Uh huh, yeah,” you whimpered in reply, tailing off into a high-pitched whine as he bit down on your neck. You could tell he was trying not to come, could feel his thighs beneath you, rock hard with tension, his whole body tight and waiting, waiting for you.

Your hands were shaking, even as they gripped him, and you shuddered and shivered, barely hanging on as you came. Your body shook from head to toe, your climax setting you alight. As soon as he felt you, shaking above him, thighs pinning him to the bed, walls clenching tight on him, he huffed a heavy exhale, letting go and coming with you, lifting your hips to milk out the last of his orgasm.

“I almost didn’t make it, shit.” He kissed your head as you flopped against him. “Fuck, thank you.”

You hummed, sated and sticky, warm in his arms, your head on his shoulder. You were in no rush to move and neither was he, even as his cum started to leak from you, even as he started to soften inside you.

He looked down at you, dopey and love-drunk, and kissed you gently, barely there. He kissed your nose and your eyebrow and your cheek, your lips and the space between your brows and your temple, little butterfly kisses that said ‘I’m here’. It felt like indulgence, like luxury, the way he continued to lavish attention on you, even spent, even after the fact. A warmth spread outwards from your heart, rushing through to your extremities. You had forgotten this kind of softness, this kind of joy. This simple, exquisitely sweet pleasure that cost nothing and was the most valuable gift you’d ever been given.

Life was hard. There would always be things in life that would be hard, that made your blood run cold, that kept happiness from your door. But, now, there was also Namjoon, who was soft, and warm, and brought happiness right to your bed.

Chapter Ten | Masterlist | Epilogue 1

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rowritesstuff · 2 years

Note

okay! i have a request! dad!kaz x mom!reader where maybe their kid gets kidnapped and the reader is distressed and kaz is just beyond angry and rips the whole city apart, in search for their kid. and when they find them its just teary family comfort??

if you dont feel it, dont worry about it!<3

Blood Be Damned (Kaz Brekker x Female Reader)

A/N: The quality of this just kinda goes 📈📉📈📉📈📉 I hope you don't mind that I kinda messed with the dad!Kaz idea (nothing bad, I promise!). If you don't like it, I swear I will write a new version of this. 😂 Also, in my head this takes place post-CK, so Kaz and the reader are probably roughly 18. I also hope y'all like the name I picked for the kid. Also, I need to go to bed, so I didn't do a final proof read. Deal with it. 😘

Ro's Masterpost

WORD COUNT: 2k

WARNINGS: Teen parenting, possibly OOC Kaz (but it's fucking adorable), missing child and kidnapping, mentions of torture, blood, mentions of death, mild violence, slitting the throats of stuffed animals?

GIF found on @naslostcontrol

Kaz had been busy lately, so he was behind on his work. Very behind on his work. Because you were nice (and because you would do practically anything for the man), you decided to help him get it done, meaning it would be a late night.

It was currently just about nine bells in the evening. You were sitting on the bed you and Kaz shared most nights while Kaz was putting Alyx, your daughter, to bed.

Or, at least he was supposed to be.

You were interrupted by the door opening and giggles disrupting the silence. The source of the laughing was Kaz and Alyx, who was receiving a piggyback ride from Kaz.

"She's supposed to be in bed!" Although you were slightly mad; Alyx should have been in bed by now, you couldn't help the loving smile that took over your face.

You never expected Kaz to get along with your daughter so well. Even before you and Kaz were together, he gave Alyx nothing but kindness and care. Alyx had adored Kaz since they met when she was just a few months old. When your relationship with Kaz grew, he swiftly stepped into the role of Alyx's father figure.

Kaz turned his back to face you and let Alyx fall onto the bed in front of you. The small girl erupted into more giggles. "Someone wanted to say good night to the most beautiful girl in the world."

"Hey!" Alyx exclaimed.

Kaz kissed Alyx's forehead. "Sorry. The second most beautiful girl in the world. Right after Alyx."

You pulled Alyx into your arms, cradling her. "Although I am very happy that you wanted to say good night, you need to be asleep." Your gaze went back to Kaz. "I swear to the Saints, if she's grumpy tomorrow, you'll be taking care of her."

Kaz rolled his eyes; he would gladly take care of your daughter any day, no matter what mood she was in. He scooped Alyx back up and placed a kiss on the top of your head. "I'll put her to bed now."

"Thank you."

As Kaz moved to leave the room, Alyx shouted out "good night!" to you.

"Good night, darling!" The door closed behind the two people you loved most in the world.

Shortly after they left and you continued working, Kaz came back and settled down at his desk. He removed his leather gloves, which despite making huge progress on overcoming his touch aversion, he still often wore around Alyx. Alyx was a very touchy, somewhat clingy child. Sometimes overwhelmingly so. Kaz refused to ask her to be more careful with him, or even let you ask her, so he wore the gloves.

The two of you worked in comfortable silence, occasionally asking for the other's help every once in a while until the early morning hours. As more and more time passed, you felt the exhaustion hit you harder each hour. The words on the page blended together, though you could barely focus on understanding the combinations of letters. Your eyes grew heavy as you tried to work through the tiredness.

You must have fallen asleep at some point because you woke up to Kaz shaking you and frantically saying something about Alyx. You couldn't comprehend the words coming out of his mouth.

"Slow down," you said once you were mostly lucid. "What's going on?"

"Alyx is missing."

You sighed. "She's probably just wandering around in the kitchen or something."

Kaz put a stuffed lion toy in your lap. "This was in her bed."

You picked the toy up and inspected it. As your fingers ran around the plush fabric, your breathing shook. Alyx had a stuffed crow, which she loved to death, but she never had a stuffed lion.

You started to take some deeper inhales, attempting to get into a mindspace to think rationally.

Alyx wasn't in her bed.

There was a stuffed lion toy in her place.

You had no idea where she was or when she was taken.

That's all you knew.

Kaz took the toy from your hands and tossed it on the floor to deal with later. He took your hands in his gloved ones, running his thumbs over your knuckles. You knew he was trying to calm you or ease your mind with gentleness, but it wasn't working.

He pulled you into him, resting your head on his chest. He lowered his mouth to your ear and whispered, "I will find whoever did this, and I will make them regret it."

Kaz limped into the bedroom late the next day. After carefully leaning his cane against the wall, he took his coat off and hung it up. His gaze navigated to the bed, where, thankfully, you were sleeping.

You hadn't slept the night before; you were worrying and trying to find Alyx. Before he had left earlier, he asked you to get some sleep, though at the time, you didn't seem happy at the request.

Kaz made his way to the bathroom, quickly finding the washbasin. He removed his gloves, as he stared at his reflection in the mirror. Spots of dried blood decorated his right cheek. He set his gloves aside on the counter, more blood from the gloves smearing on the surface.

Hours and hours of interrogating Dime Lions and torturing Dime Lions and none of them gave any information. They all claimed ignorance. He'd sent Inej on multiple sweeps of Dime Lion territory and nothing.

Alyx was nowhere.

Kaz gripped the edge of the counter, his hands wet from washing the blood from his face. He stared into the water in the washbasin.

She had to be somewhere. Someone had to know something. He didn't care how many people got hurt in the process, he would find Alyx for you. For him.

He knew that Alyx saw him as a father figure and he knew that he cared for the girl, but her being gone made him realize the true paternal love he felt for her. Alyx had a presence that brightened up every room she stumbled into. Kaz missed her smile, her hugs, her laughter, her tears, her curiosity, her light that hadn't been killed by Ketterdam yet.

She was his daughter, blood be damned.

And he was going to find her and bring her home.

He wiped the tears from his cheeks before he went back into the bedroom and changed into clean clothes. From behind him, he heard blankets shifting around. He turned, and there you were. Eyes open, hair tangled; you still looked half asleep. You looked up at him.

He shook his head. Your eyes closed as your hand rubbed your face. "I've sent Inej on another sweep, this time of all of Ketterdam." He sat on the bed as he buttoned up his white shirt. You moved closer to him. "Knowing her, she'll find or intercept something and we'll find Alyx and bring her home to you-"

"Kaz, stop."

He turned his upper body to face you, confusion etched on his features. He removed his hands from the undone top button of his shirt and he placed one on your blanket-covered side. He silently waited for you to continue.

"Please stop sugar-coating this and giving me false hope."

"It's not false hope. Inej may actually find something."

"Kaz, it's been well over a day-"

"Don't you dare tell me what I think you're about to."

You sat up and took his face in your hands, eyes flooding with tears. His hand stayed on your side. "It kills me to even think about it, but we need to be realistic. We're in Ketterdam, for Saints sake. This place isn't known for rainbows and sunshine." Your voice cracked and wavered as you spoke.

Kaz remained silent as tears trickled down both your cheeks and his cheeks.

"Y/N, I have no idea where she is." His other hand went to her other side. "We don't deserve this. Alyx doesn't deserve this."

You pulled him into you as sobs racked the both of you.

You watched Kaz as he slept next to you. You were sitting up in your bed as Kaz's head lay on the pillow next to your lap. Despite his roughed up hair and messy appearance, you admired his peaceful beauty. Your fingers ran through his dark hair, calming you.

He had fallen asleep in your arms, which had only proved to you how deprived he was of sleep. You had to briefly wake him to move into this position, which was much more comfortable for the both of you.

Five quick taps at your window made you zone back into the world outside of Kaz. You removed your hands from his hair and you quickly got out of bed, finding Inej crouching outside the bedroom window. You opened it, letting her in.

Inej held out an opened letter to you. "What is it?" you asked as you took the letter out of the envelope.

"I intercepted it before it got to the recipient. It's a communication from within the Razorgulls."

You skimmed the letter, finding mentions of a toddler girl and Kaz, though he was addressed as "Dirtyhands". The toddler girl must be Alyx, who the letter said was "Dirtyhands' daughter". Whoever sent the letter had Alyx.

"The Razorgulls took her. But they left a stuffed lion."

"Most likely to throw us off their trail and onto the Dime Lions'. And it worked."

"Do you know where this came from?"

Inej nodded. "I wrote the address." She handed you a slip of paper.

"Thank you so much," you whispered before kissing her cheek and pulling her into a hug. "I owe you everything."

"Just focus on getting your daughter back." Eventually, Inej broke the hug and left the room through the window. You ran to the bed and woke Kaz.

He woke up, slightly delirious, but once you told him that you knew Alyx's location, he snapped into full attention.

It was a simple two-person job, with you and Kaz being the two people. When Inej scoped out Alyx's location, she found there was only ever two people guarding the building, which you could very easily take out. The Razorgulls were careless.

You and Kaz studied the building from behind the side of a wall. In front, you saw the two guards Inej had told you about. They would be very easy to take care of. The guards paced around the front of the building, chatting with each other.

Kaz turned to you. "You take the right guard, I'll take the left. Once we get in, I'll focus on finding Alyx while you deliver our message. I'll find you once I have her." He took your hand in his gloved one.

Your other hand played with the strap of the satchel that crossed your body as you nodded. "Let's go."

You and Kaz snuck around in opposite directions, making your way for a sneak attack on the guards. On the way, you picked up a decent-sized rock. You hid behind the wall of the building, watching Kaz on the other side. At his nod, you ran toward the guard on the right.

You brought the rock down on the guard's head, knocking him out fairly quickly. When you looked back up, Kaz had knocked out his guard. The both of you bolted to the front door, swiftly opening it and running inside. You ran up the staircase as Kaz searched the first floor for Alyx.

You eventually found what appeared to be the office room in the building. You stopped at the wooden desk and opened your satchel. You lined up the five stuffed gull toys on the desk. After taking your knife out of your pocket, you carefully made a slice on the throats of each toy bird. Satisfied with your work, you placed the knife back in your pocket.

Not long after you finished, you heard quick footsteps behind you. You turned, and there she was. Alyx ran to you and you scooped her up in your arms, holding her tight as your eyes slipped close.

The tears falling down your face didn't matter. The world didn't matter. Nothing else mattered in that moment.

The sound of a cane clicking against the wooden floor made your eyes open again. Kaz stood awkwardly in the doorway, watching you hold Alyx. After making your way to him, you kissed his cheek.

"I love you," you whispered. "I love you both so much."

#kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker x you #kaz brekker x y/n #six of crows #shadow and bone #crooked kingdom #grishaverse #rowritesstuff #rosrequests

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wardlowsbabydoll · 2 years

Text

Welcome Back- Kenny Omega

Literally started writing this during his match, I fucking sobbed let me tell you, I'm so happy to see him back but of course I'm still concerned since he still seems pretty banged up!!

Kenny Omega x Fem! Pregnant Reader

Word Count: 1,394

Warnings: None that I can think of

You watched with bated breath backstage as Brandon handed Justin Roberts the folded-up paper with the name of Matt and Nick’s trio partner. You teared up when you heard the cheering that preceded your fiancé before he had even made his appearance, and cried when you heard the overwhelmingly positive reception to the return of Kenny.

He hadn’t wanted to wear the compression shirt but you insisted, knowing that he still wasn’t 100 percent. When the bell rung, you could feel your anxiety creeping up again. Every bump that he took made you wince, it reminded you of every painful rehab appointment, hearing him swear, and groan, and cry (especially at first) and it broke your heart. You didn’t want him to lay it all out on the line especially during his first match back, only to get injured severely and get put back on the shelf.

You could feel what could only be described as relief when the bell rung, and they won. You could see the joy on Kenny’s face when their arms were raised in the air in victory. You were shocked at the end of it all when Andrade and Rush unmasked Dragon Lee, you felt sorry for him; he had put on a hell of a match and his own brother betrayed him and the Lucha Libre culture. You were happy to see Kenny and the Bucks go back for Dragon Lee, and laughed when Rush, Andrade, and José ran like hell. You cried again when after the show went off the air, and Kenny thanked all the fans for their support of him and AEW (and giggled when he compared them to kitties that don’t pee in the litter box)

You were talking with Ashley, Andrade’s wife, along with Dana and Ellen when your partners all finally made their way backstage, all of you being among the many who applauded them for their incredible match. You locked eyes with Kenny and tried to run over to him, only to get winded after traveling barely two feet. “Don’t run, I’m not going anywhere.” Kenny teased as you walked (well more like waddled) your way over to him. “You try walking with a watermelon attached to your front.” You pouted, ignoring the butterflies you got at his laugh.

Placing his hands on your almost 8-month bump, Kenny greeted you with a sweaty kiss. Neither of you had told the fans you were pregnant; you and Kenny were notorious for keeping your private life very private. So once he disappeared off BTE you did as well, and all the fans assumed you were helping him take care of his injuries, which wasn’t a lie, your pregnancy had come as a shock to both of you; but you guys had welcomed it. You were both pushing almost 40 and had always talked about having kids, so this seemed like the perfect time with Kenny having that extensive time off.

“Were you able to watch the whole thing?” He asked you as you bumped your nose with his. “I was, I think she got tired of kicking and fell asleep. So, thankfully no bathroom breaks were needed.” You giggled. You were both thrilled when you found out a little girl was in your future. Kenny was thrilled that he would have a future partner in crime, and you knew better than anyone that your little girl had Kenny wrapped around her finger and she wasn’t even here yet. “Dana, Ellen, Ashley and I were coming up with some new merch ideas for you guys.” You brought up which made Kenny laugh. That was something that he loved about you, even when you were supposed to be relaxing you were still working.

As you two walked back over to where everyone else seemed to be congregating, you elaborated on some of the new ideas you had come up with for them. “We might just need to steal Ashley from WWE, she’s got great ideas for not just merch, but matches too.” You said nonchalantly as you leaned into Kenny slightly, who just chuckled at you “You know she’s under contract with them.”

“My contract expires at the end of the year, FYI. So far I haven’t made a deal to sign an extension.” Ashely said with a grin on her face as she leaned her head on Andrade’s shoulder. “We’ll talk about that when it’s closer. But, we need to get back to the hotel, we have an early drive ahead of us.” Kenny said as he shook her hand, an unspoken agreement made. Ashley had been showing up to shows more since she took time off from WWE, she and Andrade had recently come back from their honeymoon so they were enjoying time in wedded bliss before she would head back to being on the road almost six days a week, you didn’t blame her for possibly wanting to sign with AEW, the travel schedule was significantly less, which all of your bodies in one way or another appreciated.

After saying your goodbyes to your friends and colleagues you and Kenny departed early to head back to the hotel. On the way you insisted on stopping into a convenience store, and promptly ignored Kenny’s groan when you returned to the car with two big bags of ice. He honestly should have expected it, because after every rough physical therapy day you would force him into taking an ice bath.

After giggling at the weird looks you got from the remaining few patrons inside the hotel lobby you finally made your way back into your room. Walking into the bathroom you immediately turned the faucet on to fill the tub with cold water.

“Princess, I’m fine.” Kenny insisted as you helped him remove his shoulder brace and compression shirt, along with his tights (he had decided to just keep them on) and boots. You helped him slip on one of his Pokémon shirts and a pair of basketball shorts before grabbing his sweatshirt and sweatpants and leaving it on the bathroom counter. You turned the faucet off and poured the two bags of ice into the tub, and looked expectantly at your boyfriend who chuckled and kissed you as he made his way over to the tub.

You watched as Kenny mentally prepared himself before he entered the tub slowly and let out deep breaths as he sunk into the freezing water. You set a timer for 10 minutes before going back into the main part of the hotel room to the shitty little coffee maker and making him a cup of coffee to warm up.

When the timer went off, you immediately helped your fiancé out of the tub and helped him pull his shirt and shorts off. After he dried himself you tossed him a pair of boxers while you helped him get his head into the sweatshirt you laid out. “God I didn’t realize when you went back, your head would grow three sizes.” You teased and let out a squeal once his head poked through and he teasingly bit your hand. “Admit it, princess. You love me even with my big head.”

“You’re right, even with your big head, I still love you, very very much. Now can we go cuddle please? You pouted and your pout deepened when he laughed and kissed your head. You took his hand and walked back towards the bed, handing him the warm coffee as you both finally got somewhat settled into bed. Kenny took a sip of the coffee you made him and subsequently made a face. “That is, vile.” He said and you giggled, taking the coffee from him and got out of bed to get rid of it, returning a few moments later.

Shutting off the bedside light, you settled quickly into your fiancé’s embrace, minding his sore shoulder. You felt his hand searching, finally settling against your bump, and you sighed when you felt your daughter kick. This always happened, every time you tried to sleep she would decide to try out her superkicks. Kenny chuckled and moved down the bed, his head resting near your bump, and you instinctually moved your fingers to his curls. You managed to fall asleep to Kenny’s soft voice coaxing your daughter to try and sleep, wondering how you ended up so, so lucky.

#kenny omega fluff #kenny omega #kenny omega imagine #kenny omega x reader #aew imagine #aew fluff #aew x reader #one of my favorite blondes

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playroom-sekaii · 9 months

Note

hello hello! sorry this isnt any of the ask game questions in particular, but could we get some headcanons abt little mai and caregiver haruka? mai seems to have a kind of volatile emotional state so i was thinkin mayb stress causes her to regress sometimes? it was prolly a bit of a shock when haruka first found out abt mai’s regression, too, back in their ASRUN days but she’s def been supportive since then (sorry for letting my own thoughts slip out haha)

That's a really cool idea! I probably can't add too much since I'm not that knowledgeable on the side characters, but I have to commend you for how big brain this is!

(I couldn't really fit this in the hcs anywhere, but for the sake of this Mai's little age range is about 5-6!)

-Haruka probably wasn't the most sure as to what age regression was when Mai first explained it to her. She was glad her fellow idol had a way to help deal with the stress of the industry, but what if this information leaked out to the public? She wanted to support Mai in any way she could, but the idea of this causing either of them to lose their grasps on their dreams...

-Haruka definitely still helped Mai when she was small, but in more subtle ways than full-on being a caregiver for her (not just out of her own fear, but from Mai not wanting her biggest inspiration to fully see her while she was regressed). She started to recognize the little signals that Mai was slipping (slight errors in her singing, fidgeting, an even more wide-eyed look than usual), and she would cover for her to make sure their fellow idols or bosses wouldn't notice. She knew Mai had a bit of little gear in her dressing room, so she would take her there and simply tell the others that Mai had a headache or something. It was an unspoken agreement between the two, one that Mai was overwhelmingly grateful for and gave Haruka a sense of routine and stability.

-Once Mai was forced to quit being an idol, and Haruka was made to believe that it was her fault, their bond came to a crashing halt. Mai was left without anyone to look after her while small, even though she'd been basically alone while regressing beforehand this felt so much worse. Haruka's feeling that she failed Mai was made worse by the fact that she wanted to look out for her, and it lead to her wanting to be a full-on caregiver for the other little one now in her life: Minori (sorry for putting another hc in here put I feel like it fits-). While her drive to be a good CG for her was primarily caused by her genuinely caring and wanting her to be happy, a bit of it was from a desire to redeem herself from her previous failure.

-However, this rift didn't last forever, and once the two managed to repair their bond and Mai started her new endeavor of theater, the topic of Mai's regression eventually came up again. Mai confessed that she was still little sometimes, and Haruka offered to be her caregiver for real this time. Mai felt like she wasn't worthy of this, but Haruka reassured her that she was, and now she can finally get the care she deserves <3 Since they don't see each other in person that much, most of Haruka's caregiving is done over phone or Nightcord calls, though when they occasionally meet up in real life it's not that uncommon for Mai to end up regressing.

-Since Mai is naturally somewhat childish, it's not immediately obvious what's different between her big and small selves, though there are some distinctions. She's even more gung-ho and passionate about the things she loves, to the point that Haruka has to remind her often to take breaks from what she's doing. She's even more of a starry-eyed Haruka fan, akin to how Minori was early in the main story, she'll follow her everywhere and do anything for her! She's somewhat of a hyper little thing was well, a little sparkler full of new ideas.

-Usually when Mai's little she and Haruka sort of just end up talking about various things, whatever comes to her mind Haruka is absolutely willing to listen. If they're on Nightcord it's common for them to have nights where Haruka puts on a cartoon or movie for Mai, and they'll watch it together <3

-Whenever they're together in person, Mai loves to put on little shows for Haruka, usually being "plays" based on stories or shows she likes. Haruka will never not be impressed by these, her little one did so good! She also likes dancing for her, even though she can't sing anymore she can still do that! Sometimes she'll have Haruka perform with her, and the two of them always end up quite happy ^w^

-Sometimes Haruka sings for Mai, be it to cheer her up when she's sad or as a lullaby, and she always ends up mesmerized when she does. Mai feels a bit sad that she can't sing too, but Haruka's always there to reassure her that it's alright ♡

-Haruka's put together little playmates for Mai and Minori at least a couple times, and they always go quite well! Two little idol fans together, watching cartoons or playing while talking about whatever makes them happy. There have been a few incidents where they ended up "arguing" over which of them Haruka loves more, but Haru's there to show them that they're equal, nothing could ever change that!

#project sekai agere #i couldn't find any good images for mai no-#haruka kiritani #mai project sekai #minori hanasato #mine ♡

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ofmermaidstories · 1 year

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hello, darling mermsy!! i’m back, yet again, with another brainrot proposal for you — but this time for our blasty boy!

we’ve heard of dekules, but are we ready for bakushang? shangkugo? (basically just katsuki as li shang, i’m realising only now that there’s no easy way to merge their names together <//3) they’re both tall, dark, brooding, but are soft and caring if you get through to them deep enough. our courageous, troublemaking Y/N and the newly appointed captain of the emperor’s army, bakugo katsuki! what a perfect match!!

i believe this isn’t by any means an original idea!! i know andy has a fic about this (it’s absolutely incredible, melted my brain just three chapters in) if u haven’t already read it!!! just wanted to get your take on this if u haven’t already done one yet, bc i recently rewatched the 1998 mulan and had the lightbulb to word vomit about this to you!!!

hansy!!! my love!!! i’m sorry, i meant to slip into your inbox to wish you well/ask how your exams went—are you free from the perils of schoolwork, yet??? you’re so clever, i bet you did well. 🥺🍀

but okay let’s play, LOL. War Paint was one of the very first BNHA x Reader fics I ever read so I will always be fiercely loyal to it!!! Saying that, and I mean this with nothing but absolute love Andy, DONT @ ME, but reading War Paint gave me less Mulan vibes and more Song of the Lionness ones.

(Simplifying it—really simplifying it—a girl pretends to be her twin brother so she can train as a knight! There’s lots of magic and even some romance and Tamora Pierce has been one of my favourite authors since I was a kid!)

I think it has to do with the fact that War Paint is focused on barrack/training/castle life and the subplot with the thief—whereas when I think of Mulan, I think of war.

Mulan is one of my favourite 🅱️isney movies!!! I first saw it when my primary school had a fundraiser—they set up a projector and screened Mulan and I very distinctly remember being overwhelmingly excited as the opening credits started (I nearly choked on my red twists/twizzlers) and my Dad telling me I had to be quiet LOL. If I had to make a graphic showcasing all the fundamental pieces of media to both my personality and who I became as a person, Mulan would be centre of it. 🥹

(PSA: true to your heart is a bop and has been in my liked songs on spotty ever since i’ve had an account!)

Tbh, I’d never seriously tackle a Mulan-inspired fic just out of respect for Andie Trousers Multipled by Several, but if I did, I would absolutely play hard into the war angle LOL. Maybe even indulge in some war crimes!!! You know that scene where they finally make it to the village in the pass and it’s been burnt to the ground? Yeah. Yeah. 😌 I think we can ramp that up. Have our Reader and Captain Bakugou & Co engage in some Revenge War Crimes. People are bastards in wars already, without feeling justified about it. I was literally just watching a documentary the other week about some Aussie soldier who’s facing trial (has faced trial?) for being an absolute cunt—one of his lighter cruelties involved him shooting a family’s tied-up dog as he searched their home, so take that, take the power people feel like they have when you give them a weapon and a uniform, and then put them in front of a massacred village and see what happens next. 🔪

And idk id guess there’d be a romance in there somewhere too. 💀💀💀💀 tbh im more interested in the war tho LOL. (BECAUSE!!!! LISTEN!!! i like a challenge!!!!!!!! And I think trying to fic-ify an AU that dovetails closely to the (🅱️isney) Mulan tale brings up a lot of interesting questions when it comes to world-building, and like what you need to avoid/honour, especially if you’re borrowing from an actual, real world culture for it. The Mulan legend is Chinese, for starters—and My Hero has a Japanese cast written by a Japanese man. So, okay, maybe to simplify things for ourselves we Fantasy-AU it—but then do we eurocentric the world around them, to play it safe? Is that less playing it safe and more whitewashing? My Hero being Japanese informs the canon characters, which are traits that spill over into our fanon. Traits that we love! So is it a disservice to them to strip them of it, just so we can play War? Does this stripping make it worse when we bring in atrocities like slain villagers, and revenge acts? Do we honour canon by letting them keep their Quirks? How badly does that ramp up things then???? Like, idk, I could literally bang on about this for hours (and have, in the group chat LMAO im sorry besties 😭))

This is literally too much overthinking for your ask, Hansy, I’m sorry. 😭 ITS IMPORTANT THO. Because the world around them informs our characters!!!! So pretending we sort all that out, now we have our upstart, hot-as-shit Captain Bakugou, who has idolised General Toshinori for years now—and he’s out to prove he can train the best of them!!! Except he’s working with like, farm boys! Gutter-rats, given the choice of this or execution! Maybe there’s a cohort of like, genuine scrappers, but Captain Baku here has deliberately been given the bottom of the conscript list: this is a test. And I!! Personally!!! Think that should make him an utter bastard when dealing with our Reader!!! I think in canon, Bakugou is like, learning that people need more than to be told “u suck, do better” so I like to believe Captain Bakugou would try—maybe he and his lil friends learnt hard in a trial by fire when they were kids, during the First War—so he’s earnt this leadership role. But he’s used to fighting with peers! Peers that knew what they were doing! And now he has to oversee the training of like, the most inept civilians he’s ever witnessed! I think we could justify him losing his cool—specifically with our Reader. 😌

A Reader who doesn’t take it!!! I’ve always liked that in 🅱️isney’s Mulan, she does it for her father. So I’d give that same motivation to our Reader—a tomboy who’s always been better at giving the village boys a run for their money in their little games, who’s always wanted to go and play with them when they roughhouse. Maybe to make things more interesting, we introduce a fiancé—one of those same village boys! They grow up together, have an arranged match. Maybe he’s genuinely kind, in love with Reader whereas Reader’s just kinda like, ho-hum—but then the War pt. 2 rolls in, and he’s swept off in the first round of conscription (so that there’s no one left to volunteer in Reader’s place for her dad, in the next round!).

Oh. You know what? We could ramp up that massacred village scene by making his platoon or whatever they’re called the ones that were stationed there—so Reader finds fiancé’s helmet!!!!! And then she’s all like, omg, 😧. And then she could tie it to her saddlebags and eventually bring it home to his folks. 🥺

(Reader and Bakugou could prop themselves up in their grief, maybe? Because I know in the film the stationed army is overseen by Li Shang’s father, right? So maybe in this version it’s like, idk, Jeanist or Edgeshot or something. Maybe Endeavour? Less because I think Bakugou would be cut up about it, and more because that means we could throw Todoroki in there as well, like, presumed dead (and then he’s NOT because I know Andy would have my head if I killed off her Special Angel Man in a fic!!!), but then that means in the meantime that Bakugou can mourn one of his besties (and they are besties!!!)).

I don’t want a dumbass Bakugou, either, so I think we’d have to follow Andy’s lead and have our Captain clue in early-on that Reader has been lying about their identity. And Bakugou just admires tenacity so he’s less like omg my gendernorms are being called into question and more like FUCK why won’t this useless extra get better at FIGHTING??? That could also maybe make any romantic moments kinda interesting—Reader could have this whole internal thing of, oh my God, he doesn’t know the truth, I’m terrible, is he going to be embarrassed when he finds out??? And then you have the actual reveal—someone else making the discovery, and wanting Reader executed for it, and then Bakugou’s refusal to do so is less a begrudging “you saved my life, and now my debt is paid” and more a silent confession of his feelings!!!!

I just—there’s so much you could do!! There’s so much you could do with all of that!!! Urk!!!! I wanna rip into it with my TEETH. I just—aJFDLKSFJLKSDFJLdmfhfskdmhj.

#ofmermaidstories-asks #hansluv: one last hope (and it’s you) 🏺🌷✨#tw: animal cruelty #tw: war #tw: death #mermaids drag people underwater: dark content

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callsign-bunnie · 1 year

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Part three of “Let’s play a game,” please 🙏 I would appreciate it very much. Thank you!

Here it is! This is the last part! Part 1 and Part 2

Day five. Rodolfo was sick of it, here. He would fucking kill for his bed right now. He’d managed to get past the nagging trauma of the last time he’d been in this position, but still… he found himself just overwhelmingly angry that he was there.

Poor Gaz didn’t seem to be faring much better. For the first day, they’d tried to consistently find something to talk about but that only went so far and both of them were fucking sick of speaking.

So, now, they mostly just sat in silence. Or hunted in silence. Or ate in silence.

Rodolfo was sick of it. But, what was he going to do? Teleport them back to the base?

That would be real fucking nice.

Oh, and the risk of infection in his wound was getting higher and higher. Gaz was doing his best to keep it down but there was nothing in the first aid kit to fight it.

“When we get out of this, if that fucking rat bastard is not dead, I’m going to skin him alive. Strip by fucking strip.” Gaz muttered, glaring deep into the fire. It was night time and neither could sleep. Rodolfo was struggling due to the pain.

Rodolfo snorted. “Not if I reach him first.”

“We’ll flip a coin.”

Rodolfo shrugged and accepted that. “We may have to find a four sided coin.” A five sided, if Valeria had her way.

“I hope they don’t call Alex.” Gaz sighed. “He’s going to lose it.”

Rodolfo snorted and rubbed at his chest, wincing again. “I wish they’d sent us up here with alcohol.”

“I’d love to be drunk right now, but is it the best idea?” Gaz looked at Rodolfo, who stared back at him.

“To clean my wound, Gaz.” Rodolfo shook his head.

Gaz flushed and then laughed. “That’s a fair use, yes.”

Rodolfo turned back to the fire and sighed.

“Hey, when we were killing Graves… Alejandro mentioned to the Vaqueros that he has a ranch.” Gaz spoke up. “We can go back to dead silence if you want but… if not, can you tell me about it? Alex and I were considering some land in England.”

Rodolfo smiled as he thought about the ranch. “He bought it shortly after we got together, actually. Before that, he had some apartments, two of which he’d converted into a big one for himself.”

“Why’d he upgrade to a ranch?” Gaz frowned.

“Oh. The apartments were bombed.” Rodolfo winced. “A rival cartel of Valeria’s.”

Gaz was quiet. “So you knew she was El Sin Nombre?”

“I don’t know why Alejandro has us lie and say we didn’t.” Rodolfo sighed. “All of the Vaqueros know.”

Gaz made a face. “Oh.”

Rodolfo shrugged and turned to the fire. “So, he bought the ranch. It’s a lot more secluded. Harder to bomb.”

“I see.” Gaz noded. “I can see how.”

Rodolfo nodded in agreement. “Alejandro didn’t deceive you for malicious reasons.”

“I know. I don't think Alejandro could be malicious.” Gaz nodded. “I just… don’t understand why you would lie to us about that.”

“We work with Valeria. For the safety of our people. It’s small things like taking care of problems here and there and she does the same. Neither of us want new cartels popping up so we work together to take the new ones down.” Rodolfo shrugged. “You were supposed to help us fully squash her and I imagine Alejandro worried that if he told you… or rather Ghost and Soap that we knew her that it would fuck that over. As it was, it didn’t end up mattering since that fucking American ruined that. But… the worry was still there.”

Gaz hesitated. “I guess I can understand that. We all make choices that aren’t completely morally excusable.”

“Exactly.” Rodolfo shrugged and rubbed at his chest again. “Neither of us like Valeria but… until she’s gone, working with her is a necessary evil.”

Gaz smiled and nudged him. “That’s our whole job. Working with necessary evils.”

Rodolfo relaxed, glad Gaz wasn’t betrayed and pissed. He yawned. “I think I’m going to try to sleep now.”

“Sleep well. I’ll wake you up when it’s my turn.” Gaz nodded.

Rodolfo pat his shoulder and then climbed into his sleeping back, curling up and dozing off.

Rodolfo woke up to Gaz gently waking him and sighed. “My turn?”

“You’re fucking pale as hell!” Gaz felt his forehead. “I didn’t even know you could be this pale.”

Rodolfo’s eyes fluttered shut. His brain was moving so slow… like he was swimming through butter. “How long have I been asleep?”

“Almost a whole day… I was just going to let you sleep but then I noticed how pale and hot you were…” Gaz started to nudge his clothes to the side. Rodolfo normally would have been uncomfortable but he couldn’t bring himself to be this time.

Gaz checked the wound on his chest and Rodolfo laid his head back, staring at the top of the tarp. His body was aching all over. God, he felt like he was dying. Idiot. You probably are dying.

Rodolfo was so tired of lying in this position, wondering if he was going to die. He’d been in it so many times. “Valeria shot me off of a roof top, once…” He mumbled while Gaz cleaned up his wound.

Gaz frowned at him. “How did you survive?”

“Alejandro caught me…” Rodolfo stared at the sky. “Yanked my arm out of its socket in the process… I almost died, apparently. The shock and bullet wound almost hitting my heart were racing to end my life from what I’m told.”

Gaz snorted. “I fell out of a helicopter. Hit the ground pretty hard, too.”

“Ow.” Rodolfo could not imagine having to go through that. Hanging off of that roof had been hell, already. Falling out of a helicopter and smacking the ground did not sound very pleasant, either.

Gaz nodded. “Very much, ow.” He furrowed his brows and shook his head. “We need them to hurry the fuck up. God! We’ve been put on a tight time frame, suddenly.”

Rodolfo snorted. “A time limit the other side doesn’t even know they have. Huh, I guess I’ll be dying first, after all.”

“Don’t fucking say that!” Gaz snapped. “Don’t say that! You’re going to live! You’re going to live if only for the fact that you fucking know what you’re doing out here and I do not and if I have to survive alone with your rotting corpse, I’m going to slit my throat and beat your ass in hell.”

Rodolfo couldn’t help laughing softly. “Fuck you, I’m going to heaven.”

“Yeah right.” Gaz shook his head. “I’ve seen what you’re willing to do.”

Rodolfo shrugged and then winced. His head felt so heavy. “Maybe God agrees with me.”

“Yeah, I’m sure he does.” Gaz laughed and then finally finished bandaging him up. “God, we’ll be lucky to get out of here alive…”

Rodolfo closed his eyes. “Very lucky, indeed.”

After a moment, though, he started to get up. “I guess I need to take my watch…”

Gaz looked like he wanted to fight him, but Rodolfo could see him fighting sleep. So, Rodolfo pat him. “I’ll stay propped up against the rock.”

Gaz hesitated before nodding and climbing into his own sleeping bag.

Rodolfo scooted himself against the rock and laid back against it. He considered shooting himself so Gaz wouldn’t keep fighting to keep him alive but… well, he’d heard Gaz’s threat. That was likely not a good idea.

Plus, Rodolfo wasn’t ready to die, yet. With Luiz… he’d made his peace with dying. In that way. This was different, now. He wasn’t ready to die.

So, he was going to survive. For now.

Rodolfo opened his eyes to the feeling of hot breath on his face. He was met face to face with yellow eyes staring into his own. The yellow eyes of a wolf.

He looked over, carefully, seeing the fire had gone out. Hopefully it was just curious.

But, Rodolfo heard the growl in its throat and he knew that was not the case. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, feeling around for his knife. Please just go away… please just go away…

Rodolfo’s luck had not been that great as of late.

Right as he got his hand on the knife, he was having to slam his hand against it so it wouldn’t rip his throat out. He slashed up to stab it but it jumped off of him right as he managed. Rodolfo rolled out of the way when it lunged forward again, panting as the action took a lot out of him.

Rodolfo started to try to rush to drag himself to a gun, biting back a scream of pain as it jumped on his back and bit the back of his arm, tearing through the fabric of his coat and sinking deep into his skin.

He rolled onto his back, managing to knock it off, though just barely, and it jumped on him again, held back by Rodolfo’s forearm against its neck. It was snarling and kept snapping at his face, its claws slashing at his torso in the process.

Rodolfo brought the knife up, but hit the wolf’s head with the butt of it instead of stabbing it. It rolled off him and whimpered and whined. Rodolfo’s heart panged with guilt. Poor thing was probably just scared and hungry…

He panted and tried to recover quickly, taking deep breaths. He sat up, watching the wolf recuperate. As soon as Rodolfo was up, it started to snarl at him but Rodolfo just rolled his eyes, getting a meat stick and opening it and then tossing it to the wolf. “Eat that and shut the fuck up.” He muttered.

The wolf tilted its head before sniffing at the stick. Then, keeping its eyes on Rodolfo, it leaned down and ate it. It worked like magic. One moment it was growling and desperately trying to kill Rodolfo, the next it was sitting and staring at him. Peacefully.

Rodolfo panted and checked his arm, taking deep breaths. He looked at the wolf and saw a patch of blood on its leg. Ah, so hurt, scared, and hungry. Getting another meat stick that he distracted it with, he inspected the wound. He wasn’t willing to use his first aid supplies on it, but he did cut a strip of his shirt off and wrapped it around the gash in the wolf’s leg.

“I’d judge you, but I’m told I’m the same way.” Rodolfo sighed at the wolf. “We can be friends if you’re not a bitch.”

The wolf tilted it’s head and sat down. It was… huge. Easily as big as Rodolfo.

God, Gaz was going to lose his shit.

Speaking of Gaz, he started to wake at just that moment. He sat up and rubbed his eyes. As soon as he saw the wolf, though, he was upright. “Rodolfo don’t move-”

“He’s fine.” Rodolfo shook his head. “Just hungry. We need to hunt, anyway.”

Gaz didn’t look like he believed that, but after a moment of just staring at the wolf, he nodded and carefully got up. The wolf ignored him, just kind of watching Rodolfo. Fair, Gaz hadn’t given it food.

Rodolfo and Gaz geared up. Rodolfo expected the wolf to just… leave. But, instead, it followed them, sticking close to Rodolfo. Gaz made a face. “Are we stuck with that thing, now?”

“I think so. It attacked me but it’s injured.” Rodolfo explained and sighed. “Tore through my arm.”

“Rudy!” Gaz huffed. “Let me see.”

Rodolfo winced but pulled down his coat to let Gaz look at it. “I didn’t want to waste bandaging on it.”

“It doesn’t look that bad.” Gaz relaxed, touching it. Rodolfo winced and the wolf immediately snarled at Gaz. “Oh great, another Alejandro.” Gaz huffed. “I’m just inspecting the wound, Ale.” He mocked.

Rodolfo flushed, since he knew what Gaz meant. On another mission, Rodolfo had gotten hurt and Gaz had tried to fix it up. Well, Rodolfo had cried out in pain and Alejandro had threatened Gaz within an inch of his life. “Funnily enough, he’s better now.”

Gaz snorted. He cut his shirt, just like Rodolfo had for the wolf, and wrapped the cloth around the wound. “Well, since we’re stuck with it, let’s give it a name.”

“You did, already.” Rodolfo shrugged. He thought it was funny. “We’ll call it Ale.”

Gaz considered and then shrugged. “Alright, Ale, you better not be useless at hunting.” He muttered.

As it was, Ale was a fantastic hunting companion. He alerted them to prey and they ended up taking down a very fat rabbit.

“Alright, he can stay.” Gaz chuckled as they ate. “Rabbit is way better than squirrel.”

“Would have rather not watched him bite it’s head off.” Rodolfo commented, but he was definitely pleased. They had given Ale a decent portion of it, though he’d also eaten a squirrel during the hunt, so he was a happy camper. In fact, he was curled up next to Rodolfo.

Gaz considered. “If you keep him after this… you’ll be so fucking badass, oh my god. You’ll have a giant fucking wolf.”

“I don’t think I’m going to keep him.” Rodolfo frowned. “He is a wolf. He belongs up here.”

“More like if he keeps you.” Gaz corrected and shrugged.

Rodolfo shrugged back. “If he follows me home… I’ll keep him. But, I doubt that.” He did reach over and scratch between Ale’s ears, though. “Though, I’m still pretty pissed at him for trying to eat me.” He scolded Ale.

As if Ale could understand him, he lowered his ears and whined.

Rodolfo shook his head, already affectionate to the wolf. He took a deep breath, feeling weak again. He’d gotten a decent burst of energy from fighting Ale and now he was just… exhausted. “Whatever. It’ll be nice to have a wolf watching our back. I wonder if he has a pack.”

“I don’t think pack wolves just find two men in the woods and decide to stick with them.” Gaz pointed out.

Rodolfo sighed, since Gaz was right. “Fair. Alright, I’m going to bed. Ale, you coming with me, or are you gonna stay here?” He half got up, more kneeling, and climbed to his sleeping back.

Ale followed him and curled up next to him. Rodolfo was grateful for the warmth as Ale laid his head on his stomach.

Alejandro would laugh so hard if he saw them. Of course Rodolfo managed to find a pet. Rodolfo had always been the one to find the stray hurt animals on base. He didn’t like kill traps and he’d been the one everyone brought hurt animals they found to.

So, this was par for the course for him.

Rodolfo woke to Ale playing with Gaz. He frowned, surprised. Gaz had taken some old rope they’d found a few days previous and knotted it up into a toy, which he was now using to play tug of war with Ale.

Ale’s tail was wagging pretty hard as they played. Rodolfo frowned as he realized Ale could not be a wild wolf. He considered and sat up and came over. He stopped Gaz, who frowned at him.

“Sit.” He commanded. Ale did as told, immediately. “Just as I thought…” Rodolfo sighed. “He’s domestic.”

“Why did he attack you?” Gaz frowned deeply.

“He was injured, hungry… likely was scared and took me as a threat. Domestic wolves still have that fight instinct.” Rodolfo shrugged and reached over, petting Ale’s head. “No collar, though…”

Gaz frowned. “Do you think he got lost?”

“Without a collar? No.” Rodolfo shrugged. “I’d wager he was set loose. Whatever, until he leaves us, he’s ours. We can’t exactly risk going and looking for his owner, can we?”

Gaz shrugged. “I feel a lot better, knowing he’s domestic. Not as worried he’s going to maul us in our sleep.”

Rodolfo laughed. “Get some rest, Gaz.” He sat down, setting against the rock again. It was lightly snowing outside, so it was a little colder. Ale happily settled in next to Rodolfo, thumping his tail occasionally.

Gaz nodded and climbed into his sleeping bag.

When Gaz woke up again, Rodolfo took the rest of the rabbit, a can of mixed vegetables, what all of the cans had been so far, and the little cooking pot, and made a very shitty soup.

Ale and Gaz ate all of their portions, though. Rodolfo was… having trouble eating. It made him nauseous. So, he ended up only eating a little and splitting the rest between Gaz and Ale. Gaz frowned. “No, no, you should eat more.”

Rodolfo shook his head. “I can’t… I don’t want to throw up. Just take it, Gaz, I’m fine.”

Gaz hesitated before just sighing and nodding. He ate the rest of it and then helped Rodolfo to bed. “They need to hurry up.”

Rodolfo could only nod in agreement, lifting the sleeping bag a little so Ale could cuddle back up to him. “I’m sure they’re looking.” He was not sure at all. Each day made him less and less sure.

Day nine. Rodolfo was losing him mind. Thankfully, with Ale’s help, Gaz could hunt alone, now. Rodolfo had trouble standing at that rate. The infection was giving him constant fevers.

Every day left him more and more sure he was going to die. Alejandro and Price had still not found them.

Gaz was, thankfully, doing pretty decent. He’d already started to look kind of thin from the lack of food, but he still had plenty of energy and it looked like Ale had given him his drive to survive back.

Rodolfo wanted to hold on. He wanted to be sure he was going to live but… he just couldn’t be. His body was starting to give up, he worried. He wasn’t going to bring it up to Gaz, but he knew it was happening.

Gaz brought him some food, helping him sit up to eat. He frowned, touching his face. “You’re so warm…”

“Infection causes fever.” Rodolfo nodded, eating what Gaz had brought. He fought to keep his eyes open, very exhausted.

“I wish they’d hurry up…” Gaz murmured. “I’m worried for you.”

“I’m sure I’ll be fine.” Rodolfo shrugged and sighed. “My body has fought off worse.” Granted, with medication and IVs and way better conditions than this.

Gaz did not look convinced, but he didn’t say anything else, sitting down and eating his own food. When they were done eating, Rodolfo laid back down and fell asleep.

Rodolfo could barely open his eyes, anymore. What day was it, now? Day ten? Day eleven?

Ale had refused to leave his side at that point, not budging at any prompting from Gaz. Rodolfo didn’t mind. He was so very cold and enjoyed the ball of fuzzy warmth.

Gaz was very clearly stressed out but Rodolfo’s brain was too heavy to really care. He was glad to just cuddle Ale and sleep most of the time. He took a watch cycle when he could, but with Ale there, Gaz was fine sleeping when Rodolfo was.

“Gaz…” Rodolfo sighed, looking up at him. “I don’t think I’m going to make it to your wedding…”

“No, don’t.. Don’t say that…” Gaz shook his head. “You’re going to come. You’re going to be first fucking row at this rate. Ale can come, too. We’ll get one of those extra large suit collar things… Please, Rodolfo…”

Rodolfo smiled. “You’ve accepted him as my pet, huh?”

“I think Ale has accepted himself as your pet.” Gaz shook his head. “Rodolfo, you are going to make it to my wedding. I need you to meet Alex. Please.”

“I’m going to try, Gaz…” Rodolfo closed his eyes. “I’m going to try.”

Rodolfo’s body may not be completely ready to give up, but Rodolfo was. His entire body was on fire, it felt like, and his brain was so heavy. He was tired of this.

Gaz tried to get him to eat, but he almost immediately puked it up, which had only been worse.

Ale was now constantly whining. Rodolfo tried to soothe him, but it was hard to get his hands to do the right thing. So, mostly, he just hugged him. “You’re just like me…” Rodolfo murmured to Ale. “I get attached fast, too…”

Ale whined in response and nuzzled his chest before huffing.

“I’m going to be okay…” Rodolfo whispered in spanish. “I gotta make it to Gaz’s wedding, you know… He’s going to be so upset if I don’t…”

Ale only whined again. He licked at Rodolfo’s face and Rodolfo cringed, weakly trying to push him away. This caused Ale to whimper and flop his head down.

“I’m sorry, Ale, but… I don’t want you to lick my face so much…” He closed his eyes and yawned.

Gaz finally came back with food. He sat down beside Rodolfo. “Rudy… Come on, sit up.”

Rodolfo nodded and did as told to the best of his ability, but doing so completely winded him. He panted, softly, and held his head, trying to ignore the earth spinning around him.

Gaz helped him eat and Rodolfo tried his very hardest not to immediately puke it back up, managing but only just barely.

Gaz seemed pleased with even the small amount of food Rodolfo had eaten, so he let Rodolfo lay back down. “You look like you’re doing better.”

Even Rodolfo’s very heavy brain could pick up that Gaz was lying, but he didn’t say anything, knowing it was likely for Gaz’s own benefit more than it was for his. “Thank you…”

Gaz felt his face and frowned before sighing and going where he sat to take watch.

Rodolfo was being moved and he very much did not want to be. He tried, very weakly, to shove off the hands which were grabbing him and tugging him up. “No…”

“Rudy, please…”

“Stop it.” Rodolfo pleaded, covering his face. His whole body was upset at being jostled like this and he was incredibly upset, himself. “Please stop…”

“I’m sorry, Rudy, I can’t. He’s so pale…”

“Yeah, well it fucking took you long enough to get here.”

Rodolfo’s head fell onto something warm and he was no longer being jostled. He shook his head when he heard snarling. “It’s okay, Ale… I’m okay…” He reached his hand out, patting Ale’s nose when he felt it nudge into his hand.

“Jesus that’s a big fucking wolf.”

“He’s coming with us.”

“How long has he been like this?”

“Two days… You really got here right in time.”

Rodolfo nuzzled into whatever his head was on. “Cold…” He mumbled.

“I know… I know. Just hold on and we’ll get you somewhere nice and warm…”

Rodolfo nodded and closed his eyes, since he could barely see, anyway.

“Rudy, look at me…”

“Rudy, look at me, look at me please…” Alejandro begged, having just called for help through the radio. Rodolfo opened his eyes, unable to say no even when he was dying. He knew he was dying. What else was he? Alejandro wouldn’t be so panicked, otherwise.

Rodolfo felt cold seep from the wound in his shoulder. It coated his entire body and he started to shiver softly. He curled into Alejandro.

“I’m tired…” Rodolfo whined, trying to open his eyes. “I want to sleep.”

“I’m sorry, Mi Sol, you can’t… You need to stay awake for me, okay?”

“No, no, you need to stay awake, someone is coming up. Just stay awake, okay? Please…”

Rodolfo shook his head. “Can’t-” he gasped, finally remembering how.

“You have to,” his face was grabbed harshly. “Don’t leave me, Rudy. Don’t leave me.”

Rodolfo whined, but he nodded and managed to open his eyes again. He could see a little, this time, and he blinked and looked up, surprised to see Alejandro’s face. “Alejandro…”

“Hi…” Alejandro said, softly. His expression was so relieved…

Rodolfo weakly reached up and touched his face.

Rodolfo reached up with his good arm, though it still shot pain through his body. He didn’t want Alejandro to be sad. “Sh…” He whispered and smiled weakly up at him, touching his face. “I’ll see you wherever we end up, right?” It was a lot, it was so much, but he didn’t want Alejandro to feel abandoned. He couldn’t do that. Even if he was so terrified of dying, it was inevitable. This would happen, eventually.

“I think I’m dying…” Rodolfo whispered.

Alejandro shook his head. “Not yet… Not if I can help it… I won’t let you die.”

Rodolfo shook his head. “We don’t get choices in this…”

“I do.” Alejandro nodded. “And I’m choosing for you to live. Just keep your eyes open and you’ll live.” His voice was strong, but his eyes were pleading.

Rodolfo frowned. But, he trusted Alejandro. Alejandro would keep him alive.

“Rudy, please…” Alejandro was crying. “Please don’t. I swear to god I will follow you if you go, I will throw myself right off that ledge, Rodolfo. Don’t fucking leave me.”

“Don’t… please…” Rodolfo’s heart broke. He didn’t want Alejandro to follow him, not yet. “Stay..”

“God fucking damnit, where are they?!” Alejandro shook Rodolfo. “Don’t fucking do this, keep your fucking eyes open!”

Rodolfo fought to keep his eyes open. He was so exhausted, though. “Please… I need to sleep…”

“Rudy, please keep your eyes open…”

“I can’t… It’s okay…” Rodolfo let his hand drop. “I’ll see you wherever we end up, right?”

“Rudy, please… Don’t go where I can’t follow… Keep your eyes open… You need to stay awake…”

Rodolfo couldn’t. He was too tired. He closed them, starting to lose feel of his surroundings. Then, all he could feel was Alejandro kissing him. It was fire and desperation and Rodolfo just felt… peace. Oh well, if he had to go, at least he went here. In Alejandro’s arms.

Rodolfo had to admit, he was very sick of almost dying. Most people could count on one hand the amount of times they’d “almost” died. Rodolfo had to use both. Using the sumerian method.

Okay, maybe that was dramatic. It’d be fine if it weren’t for the fact that that every time he almost died, it had to be in the most dramatic way possible. Almost getting shot in a suicide game, almost dying of infection in the mountains, getting caught in a house that was on fire, getting shot off of a fucking roof!

Okay, maybe almost dying was just naturally dramatic.

Regardless, Rodolfo woke up tired and grumpy. He woke up to a lot of weight on his body. Some of it was on his chest, some of it was on his legs, and when his eyes focused enough so he could see, he recognized the weights as… Ale and Ale. Okay, maybe the wolf needed a better name.

Alejandro had his head on his legs, asleep. And Ale was half on his chest, also asleep. Rodolfo wondered if Alejandro had volunteered the spot or the wolf won it. It was probably the second.

Rodolfo lifted his arms, sighing at the heaviness as well as the tubes attached to them. That was another annoying part of almost dying; being attached to machines. He didn’t like the feeling.

Also the fact that Alejandro was likely going to force him on desk duty, if he allowed him to work at all. He doubted Gaz would advocate for him in this case. To be fair, he wouldn’t advocate for the kid, either.

Rodolfo reached and carefully scratched between Ale’s ears, smiling tiredly when the wolf immediately perked up and was on him, licking all over his face. “Ale!” He whined and pushed him off, softening when the wolf laid down on his chest and whined.

Alejandro was awake barely an instant, later, and he was grabbing Rodolfo’s hand. “You’re awake…”

“Hardly.” Rodolfo grunted, but looked up at him, frowning at the tear streaks on his face. The fact they were there meant they were fairly recent. “You found us.”

“Hardly.” Alejandro chuckled, though it had little humor in it. He shook his head. “Luiz…”

“I don’t really need the details. I’m sick of this whole game.” Rodolfo shook his head. “Is Gaz alright?”

Alejandro nodded. “Perfectly. I was surprised at the condition he was in. He’s tough.”

“You have no idea.” Rodolfo smiled. “He was going to sacrifice himself for me.”

Alejandro frowned. “Well… I’m glad that didn’t happen to either of you…” He kissed over Rodolfo’s knuckles and then sat down again. “This fucking thing,” he gestured to Ale, “refused to leave your side.”

“Oh, come off it,” Soap suddenly was coming into the room. “You refused just as much. Hell, you refused more than the wolf.” He smiled at Rodolfo, coming over and standing beside the bed. “How’re you doing, Rudy?”

“I feel like I almost died.” Rodolfo answered, honestly. “I’m very sick of it, honestly.”

“Retire.” Alejandro offered.

“No.”

“Goddamnit.”

Rodolfo shook his head, amused, and turned back to Soap, who raised an eyebrow. “Ongoing argument.” He managed to sit up, waving off Alejandro when he tried to help.

“I see.” Soap nodded. “Are you- well, nevermind. That’s a stupid question to ask.”

“I am not feeling okay.” Rodolfo filled in the gaps. “But, I am alive.” He moved so Ale could come further up the bed, petting his head. “I’m alive. I would like to see Gaz, though.”

“He’s with his fiance, apparently.” Soap chuckled. “It might be a small bit, apparently.”

Rodolfo laughed, since he understood. He was sure he’d be in the same position as Gaz and Alex if he wasn’t in a hospital bed. “That’s alright. Just… tell him to come see me when he’s done.”

Soap nodded. “Can I get you anything?”

“Ice water.” Rodolfo nodded a little. “Please…”

“Will do.” Soap nodded and then waved a bye to Alejandro before leaving.

Rodolfo relaxed when Alejandro sat again. He noticed the embroidery on Alejandro’s jacket was wearing thin and huffed, irritated. “I paid a lot for that embroidery…” He murmured and reached to touch it, running his fingers over it.

“Hindsight.” Alejandro chuckled and then gently grabbed Rodolfo’s wrist, kissing his fingers. “You’re not allowed to leave the base, anymore.”

Rodolfo smiled, since he’d heard that before. “Understood, Colonel.” He yawned and closed his eyes. “Can I sleep?”

“Yes, you can sleep.”

Rodolfo relaxed and wrapped his arm around Ale. “I love you…”

“I love you, too…” Was what he heard as he drifted off.

It was really fun to revisit Why Can't I Be More, especially with the new project I've been working on! I really enjoyed it! I also enjoyed the chance to write something a little different than I normally do!

#Alejandro Vargas #Rodolfo Parra #Alejandro x Rodolfo #Aledolfo #Call Of Duty: Modern Warfare II #Call Of Duty #alejandro cod #rodolfo cod #Kyle Gaz Garrick #Gaz Cod #Alex Keller #Alex COD #Gaz x Alex #Alex x Gaz #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty modern warfare II #queue for dinner again hunny?

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