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long-live-astronerd-ghost-king · 2 months

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DPXDC: I wanna be like most girls ghosts.

or Danny: What should I do to make my mom happy?

or ~Danny deserves a little teenage rebellion as a treat~

Maddie: I just want this damned Phantom to stop pretending to be a hero! All ghosts are pure evil, who is he trying to deceive? Danny: Oh, really? And Danny took it personally.

It’s not Danny’s fault that he’s a good kid and wants to make his parents happy. But why would he have to be a monster to make them happy? Why must they hate him to be happy?

Danny’s obsession was going crazy.

Well, when your own parents call you a monster in the face, it hurts. Why do they always believe that only their opinion is the absolute truth? They have no idea how much worse things would be if at least some of the ghosts really behaved the way Maddie and Jack think they’re supposed to. If he really is evil by nature, is there any point in fighting his own fate? They want to see him as a villain, he will become one. He will. He just needs a little help and practice. And not bring it to the level when Clockwork has to clean up his mess. Poor guy is without a vacation for how long? Couple of millennia?

Johnny 13: Sup. Danny: F*ck off, Johnny, I’m not in the mood. Busy thinking about world domination. Get out of here or I’ll call Kitty. Johnny 13: What’s wrong? You’re usually so grouchy only towards the end of the week. Danny: Nothing. Just parents. Again. They are wonderful but I can’t help but feel sometimes that they, em… Johnny 13: Suck? Danny: Right…Damn. I’m a terrible son. Maybe something is wrong with me. Johnny 13: What? No, no, dude. You’re just growing up. And you’re a little late, usually teenagers go through that stage before they graduate. Well, you’ve probably been busy with other issues, so just missed it. Danny: I wonder whose fault it is. Aren’t there ghosts who enjoyed to ruin my life in the middle of school day?

Johnny 13: Oh, bother. Anyway, you’re entering a beautiful time of emancipation, where you’re going to shape your own view of life and, along the way, to get drunk on cheap alcohol at parties, maybe to go to jail and to become the greatest disappointment to your family..And then you will be ashamed to remember it for about the next ten years. Danny: Well, it looks like I’ve already done two out of three additional things. Great success. Johnny 13: When did you get drunk? Danny: I didn’t. Johnny 13: Oh. Want to fix that? Danny: What? No. What an idiot wants to add a headache to his problems? Johnny 13: Well, your loss, then I’ll go terrorize the bars of Gotham alone and no one can stop me. Let’s see what your boyfriend will say about it. ~~~~~ Danny: Bartender, another shot of Dead Man’s Fingers, please. Red Hood: Babe, haven’t you had enough? Danny: Have you ever felt that no matter how hard you try, no matter how many sacrifices you make, in their eyes you’ll always be nothing more than a monster? Nothing more than a mistake? Oh, Death doesn’t give people like me a break. Red Hood: …I’ll have what he’s having. *gives the bartender a sign to switch the rum shots to a batburger milkshake for them, and starts talking to Danny so that he doesn’t understand Hood's scams*

~~~~~

Johnny 13: Other people’s kids are growing up so fast. It seems like yesterday he didn’t know how to shoot ectoblast, and now.. Kitty: Stop trying to make me feel bad, we’re leaving. Johnny 13: But the boy needs our support, honey boo!

~~~~~

Danny: I'm fine. Really, I am. This isn’t the first time mom’s called me a monster. She often called me that when she was upset with my behavior in my childhood. Huh, it's even funny. Jason: There’s nothing funny about that. Danny: No, you don’t understand. Looking back, I was really a very active child and didn’t know when to stop. Not surprisingly that I often annoyed my parents. They’re very busy people, and Jazz couldn’t always keep an eye on me. And I was often afraid to go to sleep alone because there were shadows in the darkness of my room. Well, I used to think they were. But I pretended everything was okay to not distract parents from work. Jason: Hey, it’s not your fault. You were a child. Obviously, kiddo requires a lot of attention, they must have understood that. You are the second child in the family, right? Danny: Well, Jazz was different. I don’t know. Anyway, I thought if the monsters behind the curtain and under the bed were just like me, well, according to my mom, you know, then they wouldn’t want to hurt me. And since they look after me, they are friends. So I kinda greeted all the suspicious noises and howls. Huh, I was a strange kid. Jason: If you smile at someone in the dark alley right now that someone is more likely to wet themselves or faint. Danny: Rude! I’m not that scary. Admit that I’m adorable. Do it right now. Jason: Stunning, darling. But still carry a gun and a knife, please. My childhood taught me that what's hiding in the dark is worth beating up. Danny: Come on, what should I be afraid of? Death? Anyway, I want to try this shit. Like, the inevitable one. Being a bad boy, you know? Hood *raises eyebrows*. Danny: Oh damn it man, I'm talking about ghostliness. I want to try to be like most of dead ones. I want to unleash my side of the trickster and the villain. But only a little bit. I have to be supervised so that things don't go too far. Would you help me, honey?

~~~~~2 hours later~~~~

~~~~~

Goons used to expect a lot of weirdness from working with the boss.

Sometimes Bruce Wayne would go into their base and yell at the Red Hood like he's one of his kids. Of course Wayne's well-known as 'Gotta adopt them all' but the guy must really suffer from insomnia to count the Red Hood into his brood of chicks several times. Sometimes the boss would fight Robin or Nightwing over differences in morals…or for biscuits. It varied from moment to moment. Sometimes the boss caught the local street children, fed them and taught them to steal correctly. And most of the foundlings stayed with them under their protection.

To make a long story short, Red Hood is not the typical crime lord that some of them had to deal with before. Which is a blessing. Thanks Lord for the health insurance. But still the crime lord. Which means he's still scary, and sometimes deadly.

Anyway, when the boss brought in a guy who looked more civilian than any civilian in the whole Gotham and said he was going to be their intern, they thought it was a joke at first. Despite the fact that Hood was not in the habit of joking while working.

The teenager was too well-mannered and sweet to come from Crime Alley. Phil thought the guy was gonna run when he saw the first murder, Jessica didn’t think the domestic boy wouldn’t chicken out at the sight of a fight. But arguing with a boss’s orders in their profession is like asking for a bullet in the head, so these conversations were taking place outside of their boss's sight. God, how can they teach him anything? What do you take from a boy who’s only good to do the coffee run? Fenton will fall if they’ll give him something heavier than 10 pounds. And then boss will yell at them because he treats the new guy like a princess on a pea. Well, at least that’s what they thought until the boss decided to give the new guy his own assignments:

~~~~~

Red Hood: So, what have you learned during your internship, my young Padawan? Danny: Well, it looks like I’m gonna suck at being a criminal mastermind. I think I may have to find myself some other profession. Red Hood: Come on, you just need a little more practice. Danny: Thank you but I don’t think that’s fit my obsession that good. Don't misunderstand me, I wanna be like most ghosts. But I was wrong to go to hit that goal only base on human stereotypes about my nature. Red Hood: What a pity. The newbies just learned not to flinch when you walk in. But, to be honest, I'm not gonna miss the adrenaline-boosting roller coaster of you at work. Danny: Oh, and I guess to hold on to the concept of humanity was really stupid too. I clearly no longer fit in and I’m finally ready to accept that. So, hopefully, if you get into trouble, you can rely on my ghostliness and call for help. I am the spirit of many talents and of my word. I can haunt your enemies or walk through the walls of Arkham Asylum. Whatever you need, I’ll be here. Red Hood: I’ll bear that in mind.

#dpxdc prompt #dpxdc au #dpxdc memes #dpxdc crossover #dc x dp #dp x dc #dpxdc #dcxdp #dead on main #dead on main ship #alcohol

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bettsfic · 2 years

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today is my birthday! i’m 33 today and i have done an ungodly amount of stupid shit in my life that honestly probably should have gotten me killed. so here are 33 hard-won things i’ve learned that i wish someone had told me sooner.

whenever you buy an object, you are going to own that object for your entire life unless you make the conscious decision to throw it away or give it a new home. maybe other people don’t struggle with this as much as i do, but i’ve grown to become a little exhausted by finding a thing and realizing i don’t want it anymore, but i don’t have the energy or motivation to do anything with it. signed, a woman with a packed 10x10 storage unit who is now extremely hesitant to buy new things.

food, and by that i mean good food (and by that i don’t necessarily mean healthy food, but food of good quality that you love), is necessary to live, and buying it, preparing it, and eating it is not a chore. the sooner you accept this and make food a priority in your life, the healthier you’ll be.

speaking of food, not everything you buy should be the cheapest version of it. personally i’ve found it’s always worth it to splurge on good olive oil, butter, and canned tomatoes. for years i thought i was an awful cook because i was cooking with cheap, disgusting olive oil that made my food taste like shit.

speaking of food part 2, i can’t BELIEVE how long this took me to figure out, but mise en place is the real real. get your shit out and organized and prepped *before* you start cooking, even if it makes things take longer. and yes, it is always worth it to do the dishes as you go, which pisses me off.

when i was teaching myself how to cook and feeling daunted about it, the best advice i ever got was to aim to learn 15 recipes and then put them in rotation.

this is the most horrific and awful truth i have forced myself to accept: there may come a day you can no longer digest your favorite foods, and you will either have to stop eating them, or remain very close to a toilet. i’m sorry.

other people are always going to misperceive you and misunderstand you, sometimes willfully. other people’s opinions of you don’t actually have anything to do with you. they’re not your business, and you don’t have to worry about it or change yourself.

when innocuous or neutral things make you irrationally angry or upset, step back, realize you’re having a big reaction, and then when you’re ready, pay very close attention to the thing that upset you, because you’re about to learn something important about yourself.

a pill sorter can save your life. i don’t know how i managed my meds without one.

sometimes college is about learning stuff, and not about becoming something.

no matter how many perfectionist tendencies you have, it’s worth it to remind yourself that no matter how much of a mess you actually are, you deserve to be loved.

if you’re always forgetting to do important but tedious things, set an alarm and set aside one hour of each week, not to do the important tedious things, but to assess what needs to be done, and *schedule* the important tedious things for the following week. this literally changed my life.

during that hour, make a meal plan too. the point of doing this is condense the time in which you’re making decisions (what to do, what to eat, etc) so you don’t have to burden yourself with them throughout the week. decision fatigue is real. any way you can alleviate that is a good thing.

learn the difference between aggressive, passive, passive-aggressive, and assertive behavior. recognize when you’re being one of the first three, re-assess and aim for being assertive, even if it’s hard.

you can tell you’ve processed trauma, not when the traumatic thing stops upsetting you to think about, but when the traumatic thing takes up the same size in your brain as all your other memories.

if you’re one of those people who never seems to finish projects or follow through with things, there’s a chance you may just grow out of it naturally. until then, follow your interests and don’t feel bad about putting down a hobby to pick up another.

if you love stickers but have sticker anxiety, buy vinyl stickers. you can re-stick them.

there are only a few careers i can think of that you have to commit to early in life because getting the undergraduate credentials is a pain in the ass (teachers, doctors, and engineers, from my research). nearly everything else you can switch to later, which takes a LOT of pressure off having to figure out what you want to do with your life.

people say there’s no money in becoming an artist, writer, musician, etc. actually there’s a ton of money in all of those things, it’s just in the stuff other people want you to make and never what you want to make. it’s still worth it to develop the creative skill and not force yourself into business school because it’s more “practical” or whatever.

sleep when you’re tired. SLEEP WHEN YOU’RE TIRED. don’t beat yourself up about it, don’t tell yourself you shouldn’t be tired or that you’ve already slept too much, just take a fucking nap. you would never say “hm i’ve already had enough water today, therefore i should not be thirsty” so don’t treat sleep the same way.

when you build a piece of furniture from target or ikea or whatever, the first thing you should do is count all the little screws and things to make sure everything’s there that should be. it sucks to get halfway into putting something together only to find there’s a piece missing and you have to go buy it.

learn to travel by yourself, go out to eat by yourself, see a movie by yourself. in my early 20s i was scared to do these things, but i do them so often now i don’t even think about it. it’s the most fulfilling skill i’ve ever learned.

adding to the above, if you’re a people-pleaser, being alone is especially important, because you’ve probably developed the habit of making the people you’re with more comfortable and happy than yourself, and you’re missing a lot of the beautiful and interesting things around you. when you’re by yourself, you can focus on what *you* want without guilt.

sometimes you’ll want to break things off with a friend for reasons that are no one’s fault, and you don’t want it to be volatile or make a big thing of it, in which case the goal is to simply fade out of their life. it is okay to let people go.

shame is useless. get rid of it.

no matter how much of yourself you put into your art (or writing, or music, or whatever), when people criticize it, they are not criticizing you. they are having a reaction colored by their own tastes and perspectives. their opinion of your work has nothing to do with you. you don’t have to take everyone’s feedback. in fact you don’t have to take anyone’s feedback. the other side to this coin unfortunately is that compliments don’t have anything to do with you either. it’s good to accept this because it means you’ll stop seeking validation from other people and won’t let anyone else’s perspectives impact your work. anything nice anyone says about your work is merely a bonus to an already good thing.

if you’re an artist of any kind, take one day a year to look up opportunities like grants, funding, residencies, workshops, whatever. put the due dates of all of them on a calendar for the year following and get into the habit of applying for stuff. getting rejected sucks, application fees suck, but in all the years i’ve been doing this, it has always, always been worth it. these things give you a chance not only to help fund and support what you’re passionate about, but they force you to take your own work seriously, and that is something that’s absolutely necessary in order to be successful.

you must become your own greatest advocate. in all respects--in health, in love, in happiness, in freedom, you must. no one will ever fight as hard for you as you will. this in turn will give you the strength and motivation to help others fight for themselves too. the only way the world will ever get better is if every person on this planet learns to see themselves as equals to everyone around them.

brag about yourself as often as you can. for one, people develop their perceptions of you based on how you treat yourself and speak about yourself. but for two, it’s the fastest way to figure out which people to keep in your life, because they’re the ones who are going “oh hell yeah, you’re awesome.”

be the person other people want to brag to.

at some point in your life, someone is going to hurt you, and it’s going to be willful and intentional. it is not worth it to waste brain space figuring out why they did it or why you think you deserved it. all you have to do is let yourself feel that pain, acknowledge it, and try to move on.

no matter how bad off you think you are, recovery is possible. the first and hardest step is to learn you’re worth the time and effort it takes to recover from the awful things that have happened to you.

developing an expertise does not mean you’re getting objectively better at something. becoming an expert is only the process of seeing your mistakes and having the patience to sit in the discomfort of not knowing how to fix them.

#writing advice

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cozage · 11 months

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Hi hope you are having a good day

I wanted to know what would it be like if, Mihawk, Shanks and Buggy had a female s/o that was basically like inosuke from demon slayer, they are a bit dumb but will pick a fight with everyone, and they only wear a bandaged top with like shorts or smt.

You guys have been asking me lots of questions and making me feel loved so here is this!!! (And maybe more spicy things to come later this week 👀)

Characters: female reader x Mihawk, Shanks, Buggy Wordcount: 850 CW: the last bullet point in all of them that are a little spicy

She’s Kinda Stupid, but…

Mihawk

This man is literally so tired. He’s so tired.

Will very often say things like “I didn’t know I was in charge of three children.” (yes Perona and Zoro are his CHILDREN okay) or “Are you acting your age today, or are we pretending you’re six years old again?” or “I’ve met dogs more behaved than you.” (it’s all coming from a place of love and he knows you won't take offense because you don’t take offense to anything)

You’re a brat and he knows it (and loves it). He loves you but god you are so much work when the two of you are out in public. He feels like he can’t take his eyes off you or you’ll end up in a fight with some random guy because he looked at you funny.

Most of the time he doesn’t acknowledge your shenanigans. When you fight with someone, he’ll grab your wrist and physically pull you away from them, usually with some kind of snide remark.

Sometimes you’re justified, though. And when that happens, he gives the guy who wronged you five seconds to apologize before he sets you loose. Most of the time the guy sees Mihawk and apologizes, but the swordsman secretly hopes the guy won't apologize. And on the few occasions they don't apologize, he smirks as he releases you.

He always has to pull you off the guy because you just don't know when to stop. In all truthfulness, it kind of gets him hot and bothered, but he always pretends to be irritated. “You’re psychotic. Do I need to teach you how to behave?” he scolds, his gold eyes scanning your body. “I can think of a few ways to get you to listen.”

Shanks

Shanks adores you. Cheers you on. Loves watching you cause absolute chaos. Why? Because you are him without a conscience.

Shanks knows when he needs to flip the switch from polite to fight, but you don’t. You are always at 100%, your most authentic self 24/7. And he absolutely adores that about you. Even if that means that sometimes you take it a bit too far.

Sometimes Shanks will even use your emotions to his advantage. “Can you believe that guy just did that?!” or “Talk about rude!” knowing full well you’re ready to throw down whoever wronged you or him.

The absolute only time that Shanks will stop you from fighting someone is when you all are in a building. He’s had to pay SO MANY owners back for you destroying glassware and furniture and plenty of other damaged goods. You learned pretty quickly that the first words out of your mouth should be “Wanna take this outside?!” because if you were outside then Shanks didn’t stop you.

The first few fights, he watched carefully, making sure he would be able to jump in if he needed to. The next couple of fights, he watched you with an amused look, excited to see how you were going to beat up the guy (and just to make sure you would win). Nowadays, he doesn’t even feel the need to go outside with you, but sometimes he does just to cheer you on.

After your victory, he always rewards you with a bunch of kisses and sings your praises. He pulls you onto his lap at the bar, making sure everyone knows you're his. “You did so well. I loved how you stomped that guy into the dirt,” he’ll coo, dotting kissing across your neck. “How about later I show you just how proud I am of you, okay?”

Buggy

You never cease in stressing this man out. He is always on high alert now because of you.

Stealth missions? Forget it. Normal day in town? Absolutely not. He BEGS you to be a normal human being in public. To have an ounce of self preservation. But you cannot comprehend that. People who talk shit deserve to get hit.

He is constantly running after you, screaming at you to stop fighting people for no reason. Sometimes he’ll even jump in front of your punches to try and de-escalate it (which of course doesn’t work and results in you just punching him in the face). You don’t even feel bad, you just scream at him to get out of the way and beat up the other guy even more since he made you hurt your boyfriend.

If anyone makes fun of him, he doesn’t even have a chance to scream at them anymore. You’re already pounding their face into the ground. And every time you do, he falls in love with you a little bit more.

“That’s right, that’s my baby!” he screams, watching you smugly walk away from some guy’s beaten body. “Let’s go celebrate, you can do whatever you want.” He grabs your hand, practically pulling you back to the ship.

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bubbles-for-all-of-us · 1 month

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You don’t get to tell me about sad

Previous chapter / Next chapter

a/n part two! Thank you for everyone who read the first one. So glad some of you liked it so much. 🫧🤍

summary: Azriel gets an assignment he can’t seem to decline. Now he has a princess full of attitude under his protection. The only question is whose cold heart will break first.

warning: past trauma, scars

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“No threats, nothing," Azriel dropped the report down on the table. Rhys had been the one to go meet with Autumn’s high lord. Bringing back the reports of everything that had been happening the past three days. “Eris said that everyone still thinks she’s there," Rhys stated. They planned on spinning a lie about you visiting an old relative, but it was better if the people who had inflicted the first attack would be misled about your true location.

“This could have been a one-time thing," Cassian hums, flipping through the report himself. “Or someone is waiting for the right moment," Rhys links his fingers together, resting his chin on them. “Why her?”, Cassian frowns. Yeah, Azriel asked that too at first. You didn’t seem to be magically gifted. There was nothing special about you, as far as he was aware. “Eris said she’s a weak link," the spymaster muttered.

“They’re close? That would explain things," and Cassian was right there. Love might be the worst weapon to have. Once, it slipped into the wrong hands. Azriel let out a sigh.

“Considering how he delivered the news, he loves her a lot. I believe, besides Lucien, she’s the closest to him." If he was being truthful, he hadn’t given it much thought. Here in Velaris, he could leave you on your own devices for the most part, at least. He didn’t need to trail after you. There was no need. Azriel had eyes almost everywhere.

“We’ll figure something out. I will ask around to see if something is stirring." Rhys leans back, his eyes now fixed on Azriel, “How are you?”. Azriel tries to hold back to not roll his eyes. “I’ve been fine for two weeks ago." And he was. Yes, his left side still hurt. The scar was deep and rather long. Rapping around his ribcage. Not to mention that he had pulled the stitches out way too many times. “Don’t start this," Rhys says bluntly.

“I could be up at the camps doing what I do best," Azriel points out. Itching to pick this topic back up. “Dying in the snow?"—that was a straight blow from his brother. Rhys hadn’t been able to say it out loud for the first couple of weeks. The thought of Azriel dying had messed with his head. “I said no, so it’s a no. Plus, you have a new responsibility," Rhys states firmly, and Azriel knows that there is no use in nagging him any further. “Counting days till she’s out of my sight," he mutters beneath his breath, standing up to leave. He just forgot to mean the words he spoke.

Velaris was different from what you had imagined it to be. In a good way, but it still wasn’t home. The ever-green trees almost bugged you. It was all too alive. Too bright. You missed the deep oranges. The crunching of the leaves beneath your feet. Rhys tried to be a caring host by giving you an autumn-themed room, but that only left a bitter taste in your mouth. So even if you had been advised by their healer to keep all weight off your swollen ankle for a while, you still found yourself, pulling away the decorations and shoving away the autumn theme blankets, the little trinkets.

You tried to keep out of everyone’s hair. Choosing to take your food into your room. But the four walls were starting to drive you mad. You had tasted freedom, and you didn’t want to be back there. Locked up. Hidden. Forgotten. So when your eyes landed on the two males sparing in the front yard, you, of course, first observed them from your window. Watching through the curtains and then pushing back.

“You should be resting your leg," Azriel hadn’t even turned to face you when his voice found you. A slight smirk tugging at your lips. He had been avoiding you. Or maybe you were too full of yourself. Maybe he was just busy. There was no requirement for him to be at your side twenty-four-seven.

“You’re a shit bodyguard if you didn’t know that I've been doing just that for the past three days," you muse, stepping closer to the racks of weapons that line their training ground. Fingers l brushing over a set of onyx black daggers. “Madja said at least a couple of weeks," Azriel points out, reaching to rewrap his knuckles. “And I said that I'm bored, and now we are here," you purr, lifting one of the daggers, feeling out the weight as you twist your wrist. You could feel Azriel’s eyes. Watching you. Following your every move.

“Or you just wanted a closer look at this“, the male next to him, who you had come to learn was Cassian, smirks, gesturing to his bare chest. Abs glistening with sweat. Yeah, the view wasn’t bad. Autumn males, at least the ones you know, didn’t compare. “And I thought this one was full of himself." You hooked your thumb at Azriel, rolling your eyes.

He shakes his head, “Would it hurt you to say my name?”, "Yes, Mr. Tree, trunk up my ass." You give him the most obnoxious smile you could master. Earning a deep growl from the spymaster in return. Until your eyes landed on the wooden bow, neatly placed on the ground by the buckets of water. “I want to shoot arrows," you mutter, pointing to the weapon, making Azriel’s gaze follow suit.

He let out a small snort, “Have you ever held a bow in your delicate hands?”. That prick. You narrowed your eyes at him. "Oh, news flash, he is also a sexist,” you hiss. Rounding his side to reach for the arrows. “I just don’t want you falling and tripping once again, princess," he teases in an almost mocking tone. You step closer to him. You doubt that he finds you intimidating, considering that you need to look up to even meet his gaze. But your face stays ice cold as you point to the bow, “Give it to me." He doesn’t move at first. As if on purpose. Giving you extra time to look at him. His face. There is a light scar over his right eyebrow. It’s not all that visible. Unless you take your time to… but, your little daydream is cut short by a bow being shoved at your chest. You nearly lose your footing. And just like that, you are snapped out of your daze.

“Don’t start crying when you miss," Azriel says, too full of himself as always. Leaning on the side beam like a smug, fucking cat. Too bad you grew up among five arrogant males. Six if you include that sadist of a father. That’s enough for the amber to catch fire deep within your chest. You line the arrow up. Taking a deep breath. Eyes falling to the target at the edge of the field ahead. And then it’s muscle memory as you let it loose. The first one hit the bull's eye. A satisfied smile speeds on your face as you reach for the second and third. You’re petty like that. Not in the mood to give Azriel a chance to call it fool’s luck.

A loud chuckle fills your ears, and then someone is nudging your shoulder. “She handed you your ass on a silver plate, brother." Cassian’s laughter booms, and you can’t help but match his grin. “Choke on the dust," you muse, flipping him off as you twist away from him. But Azriel is quick as always, grasping your elbow as he spin you back. “Know your place," he says through gritted teeth. Nostrils flaring.

“Maybe you should show me my place," you mutter, crossing an x on his chest. You yank your hand from his grip, glancing at Cassian, “Put the dog on the leash." Azriel curses, making Cassian snort, before the general starts barking, moving to the side to tackle his brother. You shake your head, continuing to walk away. Only catching a faint warning from Azriel, “Don’t fucking encourage it.”

Azriel chose to leave you alone for the rest of the day. Yet he could deny it all he wanted, but the shots were clean. Not to mention that he was almost relieved that you had left your room. A burden or not, he didn’t want you just rotting between the four walls. So he’s not all that surprised when your figure steps out onto the balcony. A lantern in your hand. One that you carefully place on the ledge before placing your hand on the stones. Stepping on your tiptoes, leaning to look over the edge.

"Snooping", the sudden sound of his voice makes you jump, your elbow hitting the lantern and pushing it over the edge. “You’re insane. Absolute sociopath," you gasp, hand on your chest as you try to wipe the threat from your face.

“You’re pathetic if that made you scared," Azriel shrugs, stepping out for the shadows. It wasn’t pathetic. He knew that. If he didn’t want to be seen, no one would see him. So blaming this on you was lame, but he could excuse it. For now. “You’re a creep," you hiss, leaning over the edge to look for the broken glass, now scattered on the ground. “Who sits in the dark like that?”, you ask, shaking your head and pulling your ginger hair over to one side. Fidgeting with the ends. That’s a new habit, Azriel thinks to himself, one he hadn’t yet observed.

You just shake your head once you don’t receive an answer from him. Eyes darting up the sky. It’s almost pitch black. The last traces of orange and deep purple are coloring the very edges of the horizon. “The sky is beautiful here as well," you breathe out. Not sure why. It felt stupid to get sentimental with that crazy man behind you. “It is," Azriel admits, forcing his eyes from your frame to lift to the sky. But the stars only manage to hold his attention for so long. Before they glance right back down at you, Azriel can’t tell from your face, but he feels the wave of sadness crashing into his chest.

And not even a heartbeat later you speak up again. “I usually take walks with the dogs in the evening, so... old habits die hard. I feel the itch." It’s an almost bitter chuckle that slips past your lips as you speak. Azriel walks close to the railing. “I feel the same if I don’t get to work late at night," he’s not sure why he’s even saying that. Admitting something that you don’t need to know. Or probably care to know. Your nose screeches up. “That’s a weird thing to like," you mutter. Azriel rolls his eyes, “Stomping through the woods isn’t any better.”

The breeze picks up. Chasing the last bits of warmth away. Making you wrap your arms around yourself tighter, but you don’t step back. Don’t move to head inside. “So, you’re a working late and sleep-in type of guy," you mutter. Azriel realizes it then. You’re here because you don’t want to be alone. Force-pushing the conversation to keep someone else in your company. Flashes of the basement flicker through his mind.

“No, I wake up early," he answers, a heartbeat too late, and yet you’re still nodding along. “So, no sleep type of guy," you mutter beneath your breath. The darkness is now fully draping over you two. Hiding you both from the world. “And you’re a talk just to listen to yourself speak type of girl," Azriel points out, making you huff. “And here, I thought we were having a moment." He watches as you turn around, shaking your head. “Jumping to conclusions kind of girl too," he says firmly, and this time it’s enough to drag a little chuckle from your lips as your head falls back ever so slightly.

But the distant pain doesn’t leave your eyes when you glance back at him. “Did Eris say anything by any chance?”, you mutter. A part of Azriel considers lying. Twisting the truth. A white lie. But he can’t bring himself to. Too many people were already keeping you in the dark, so he mutters a quiet, "No." Watching as you nod way too eagerly at his answer, “Of course, delighted to get rid of the troublemaker," there was that pained smile at the end as you finally chose to spread the distance between you two. “Lucien is coming tomorrow, though," Azriel points out, your tense shoulders easing ever so slightly. You don’t say anything as you reach for the glass door.

“Are you going to sleep?”, Azriel asks, almost cringing himself out. What was this sound of desperation? He didn’t fucking care what you did. “Not yet. I will walk in the garden for a bit." You gesture to the fields wrapping around the house. Azriel nods firmly, “Keep to the upper parts; don’t go past the rose garden if you get by the white... ”, “Okay, okay, mother... Tie me to your chair and watch me wilt away while you’re at it," you huff, your lips thinning into a tight line. “I’ll finish some work and come to do a room sweep," the spymaster says in an almost demanding manner. You simply raise your hand to your forehead, saluting him with a quiet “Yes, sir," before disappearing into the house.

It took Azriel way longer to get through his usual routine. He liked his office tidy for his morning working session. So at night, even if he was tired to his bones, he made the effort to sort through every pile of documents. Arrange them neatly. When he finally made it up to the top floor, where your room was located, it was well past midnight. Azriel knew that he could just drop it. He didn’t have to show up and check the room. Yet he still stood there right by your door.

"Princess," he knocked gently, not really in the mood to startle you once again tonight. You might be small and fierce, but everyone has a limit. When no response follows, he tries again: "Yn, it’s Azriel, can I come in?”, but still nothing. He could just walk in, but you weren’t a prisoner per se. “This is your last warning," he says, waiting for a heartbeat before pushing onto the handle.

It was dead quiet in the room. He would have concluded that you might not have returned yet if not for the mess that your bed was. He frowns slightly. Following the line of blankets that lead to the fireplace. And here you are. Curled by the fire, all the blankets dragged from the bed. Piles of books scattered all around you. He didn’t know that you had gone to the library. Or maybe this was Nesta’s doing. In that case, he didn’t wish to find out what was written in them. Azriel scannes the room. His eyes fell on the pens and pencils on the table. A sketchbook. A strange feeling kindled in Azriel’s chest. He has a pad just like that. Kept it in his leathers. So if he feels the urge or if something captures his attention begging to be sketched, he could easily do so.

Azriel steps closer, trying not to leave evidence of looking through your stuff. It makes him uneasy just how close you are to the fireplace, but then. Flame calls to flame. He knows that he should turn away. Just leave you be. There’s no danger here. He knows it. But he finds himself stepping forward, kneeling by your body. He hasn’t seen you so peacefully innocent before. He only knew the frowning, tantrum-throwing princess.

Tilting his head to the side, he tries to drink your features in. You were a Vanserra. The resemblance to Eris and Lucien was there. But a much softer version. With freckles all over your face. Long eyelashes. Your hair was more ginger than fire-red. But then his gaze halted. Your left shoulder was bare. The very top of your breast... a scar. It was a scare that made him halt. On your collarbone. And then two lines going beneath your shirt. Azriel’s scowl only deepened at the sight of one more white line at the side of your throat. “What did they do to you?", he mutters quietly. But it’s enough to make your eyes snap open as you jolt up. And once again, there’s a dagger aimed at Azriel’s throat, this time from the side. The very tip pressing into his flesh.

“What the fuck?", you huff, lowering your hand. “That’s a much better aim. You’re learning fast, princess." Azriel tries to keep his face cool as he steps back. Standing tall. “Why are you here standing over me like that?”, you scowl, pulling the blanket tighter over your shoulders.

“I just came to check the room," Azriel says, moving his gaze to the window. Anything was better now than looking into your burning eyes. “And decided that you can just let yourself in," you say, pushing to stand up. “You were on the floor by the fire; who knows, maybe you were lying there dead?", Azriel bits back, gesturing at the mess you had created. It was embarrassing that he had seen it. No one was supposed to see it. A bitter laugh slips past your lips, “You wish that would be...", and in a blink of an eye, he is there. Inches away from you. Hand reaching for your hair. No doubt he had thought about just yanking it back but decided against it at the last minute.

“Don’t finish that," he says, opting for a warning finger once more. As if he’s scolding a child. “Or what?", you flash your teeth at him. Pretending to bite the very tip of his finger. “You love picking fights, huh?", he straightens, smothering his hair back. The slight curls falling over his forehead. “You love changing the subject, huh?”, you mock back in the same tone. “You might just be one of the most frustrating things that came out of autumn," and you can see that he probably didn’t even mean to say it out loud. But he did. And now you two were standing in the aftermath of it. Your hands curling into fists. “Thing...", you smile at him, “How sweet of you; ladies probably drop their pants for that," and here it was that cold, cold look on your face. "Out," you hiss, now pointing Azriel to the door. Dismissing him.

The next morning is rather awkward. Azriel finds you in the sunroom of the house. Your legs tugged beneath you. You don’t lift your head, and he says nothing. Taking his usual spot by the window to drink his coffee. It unsettles him. The silence. He doesn’t want you to feel like he’s some creepy stalker. Maybe you both should settle the ground rules. Talk about the situation. But once he finally finds the courage to open his mouth, the door opens. A gasp slips past your lips as you jump up, rushing to the male standing in the doorway.

"Luci," you breathe, wrapping your arms around your brother’s neck. The warmth he carried seeping into your body. “My little flicker," he mutters against your hair, leaving a couple of kisses on the side of your head. "Azriel," Lucien nods in acknowledgment. Azriel follows his movement. “I’ve got it from here”, Luci smiles at the spymaster, rubbing his hands up and down your back.

“What’s going on?”, you mutter against his chest, refusing to let go. “What did Eris say?”, your brother asks, and it’s enough to make you pull back. “I don’t give a fuck about what he said," you grunt. “I want to know what you know," you demand. You have a full right to. Lucien holds your gaze for a moment before letting out a tired sigh, “We will be heading back for a bit." You shake your head, turning away from him.

“I will tell you as soon as I can, I promise," he says as he steps forward, holding you by your shoulder as he lowers his forehead to lean against you.“Why are we going back?” It’s a whisper, but blood runs thicker than water. And you need to stick together, as you always did. Even if you still don’t understand anything, “There is a public outing. He needs us by his side." That makes you chuckle, “I also needed him by my side in case anyone was wondering.”.

"Yn," Lucien sighs, but you shake your head. “You don’t get to make me feel bad for him." It’s selfish, you know that. But they had sworn to protect you, and this feels like the opposite of it. “He’s figuring this out too; be kind," Lucien mumbles, pulling your hands into his and squeezing them. “Come on, you’ll get to watch the joy on Azriel’s face when I tell him that he’ll have to spend a couple of nights in autumn," he nudges you, making you smile ever so slightly, “Now that I can get behind”.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Taglist: @emryb

#azriel acotar imagine #azriel x oc #eris x azriel #azriel x you #azriel imagien #azriel x reader #azriel imagine #azriel spymaster #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #acotar x reader #acotar imagine #acotar x you #acotar x oc #lucien vanserra x reader #eris vanserra x you

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kennedybaby · 3 months

Text

HAUNTING ~ JASON P. TODD. 18+

Summary: Maybe blocking Jason isn't such a great idea.

Contents: dry humping, oral sex (female receiving), fingering in the alleyway, fucking in the alleyway hence risky sex slash teeny tiny bit of exhibitionism, rough sex, size difference, unhealthy relationship.

Pairing: Jason P. Todd X Female! Reader.

Word count: 2.6k

Author note: an anon implied that they want a part two of the drabble i made abt ex! jason. it is here... and it's valentine's day special. sorry for dropping bangers and leaving for another 2 months. will do it again. enjoy!

🖥️ MAIN MENU. PART ONE.

I know if I’m haunting you,

you must be haunting me.

You told yourself this was going to be the last time. The morning after Jason had left, you were already blocking his number and changing the lock to your front door the next day. Maybe it’s the post-nut clarity that helps you realized that maybe… maybe this things going on between you and him wasn’t exactly healthy. Maybe it’s a good idea to ignore the calls you’ve been getting from ‘unknown’ caller knowing full well it was him.

You think it’s a little cute when he went as far as to text you from Dick’s number.

He thinks you’re a brat.

Besides, who cares if what him and you had going on wasn’t healthy? You didn’t have to blocked him.

Whatever, what’s done is done. “He’s going to stop reaching out eventually.” you told yourself only to see him leaning against his bike, waiting for you in one of the alleyway you always passes after your night shift a week after blocking him. The red helmet slightly glints in the dark when the streetlight hits, “come here,” he murmurs, head tilts slightly to the side. There’s a battered bouquet of red roses in his hand, the veins on his forearm pokes out from how tight he gripped the bouquet to the point that the stems are crushed. “Happy Valentine’s Day, princess. Come get your flowers.” Jason adds, his other hand reached up to removed his helmet as he placed it on the seat of his bike.

”I don’t want to.” A small huff left your lips.

”Just do it, goddamnit [Y/N].”

Old habits die hard.

Your shoulders drops in defeat as you dragged your feet to him, you can’t help it. As much as you want to keep up the ‘I’ve-totally-moved-on’ acts, you just can’t. So here you are, not even five minutes in and Jason already had his arms wrapped around your waist, his lips naturally finding their way to yours the second you had your head slightly tilts up. “Blocked my number, huh? What, you think you’re so mature, huh?” He snorts, letting the bouquet falls from his hand to hold you tighter in his arms. “I didn’t block you…” You whined, standing on your tip toes to keep him quiet by smothering his lips with small pecks.

”Yeah right, that’s totally believable.” He scoffed in between the pecks you're giving him, his head tilts down to make it easier for you to reached in for more kisses. “Because my texts and calls totally got thru.” You can practically taste the sarcasm dripping from the way he talks to you. “I might have accidentally blocked you.” You pulled back slightly to watch as his face gradually sours. He stared back at you with an annoyed look, his brows furrowed before a low groan leaves his lips. “Face the wall.” He groaned, his fingers running thru his black locks before you reluctantly turn to face the wall, “We’re doing it right here?” You stuttered as you spared him a glance over your shoulder, your eyes quickly widened when he pressed himself against you. His bulge slightly rubs against your ass, his hands digs into your hips to keep you still. “Damn right we are.” He says, his breathing slightly staggered as he moves his hips slightly to get more friction against his clothed cock.

You leaned the back of your head, fingers latching onto his forearms as a support. “You’re so annoying, you know that, right?” He speak with a gruff, there’s creases on his forehead as Jason looked back at him. “How many times are you going to do this, huh? Acting like I don’t exist and blocking my number the second we had sex. I’m gettin’ real sick of it, [Y/N].” His hand reached up to grabbed your chin, forcing you to look up at him as he grinds himself against the curves of your ass. “Fucking brat.” He adds, his thumb gently brushing over your lips. “My fucking brat.”

“I don’t know,” you breathes, your lips instinctively parting as Jason slips his thumb into your mouth. “…until you’re bored of me?.” You muffled out your words, eyes slowly turning cloudy from the having his cock brushing up against you. He scoffed at your reasoning, rolling his eyes before he pressed his thumb down your tongue.

”As if.” He mumbled, leaning down slightly to rest his chin on your shoulder. “You’re gonna block me again after this?” His eyes flickered to looked back at you. You stared at him for a solid minute with only the sound of his jeans and your skirt rubbing together can be heard before he removed his thumb off your tongue to let you speak. “No?” You stammers, mentally cursing yourself when he smirked at your answer. “Good girl.” He replied, his hand falls to the hem of your skirt.

”I missed you,” A soft whine left his lips as his fingers desperately reached down to rub your clit. Jason leaned against you to leave kisses on your neck and up to your jaw as his fingers pushes your panties aside. “You’re so wet already, baby.” He mutters, massaging the bundle of nerves in a circular motion. He slowly swipes his fingers between your folds as you leave trails of your wetness on his fingers. “Looks like this pretty little thing misses me too.” He chuckled when you whimpers at the feeling of his fingers being pushed inside of you. “I missed you too…” You whined, eyes shut tight as he pumps his digits deeper into your sopping cunt. The wetness between your legs sticks to your thighs and clings to his fingers, his teeth hungrily leaving marks on your neck. “Sorry for blocking you.” Your body shuddered in sheer bliss when his fingers curls with his calloused palm constantly brushing against your clit.

”Yeah? You’re sorry?” He asked, his voice growing breathy while his other hand clumsily undo his belt and zipper. A small frustrated groan leaves his throat before he pulls his fingers out of you causing you to pout and whine. “Oh, come on. Give me a second.” He laughed, turning you around but this time facing his bike. He moves your leg up on the seat before he kneel down behind you. “Fuck… Look at that.” He whispers, his warm breath fanned against your pussy before he desperately buried his face in between your thighs. “Jason!” You squeaked, toes curling upon feeling his tongue lapping on your clit with his fingers tightly gripping your thighs. His thick fingers leaving marks on your skin as you squirmed on his bike, causing him to land a spank on your cheek.

You whined. “What’s that for?” You looked back at him only to be met with his dazed eyes and his mouth still latching onto your pussy, drinking every liquid that drips out of you. For once in the span of an hour filled with nothing but his sarcasm, he was quiet. Except for the occasional groans and moans every time you pushes deeper against his nose. Your nails digs into the cushion of his seat as you whimpers when he slide his tongue into your entrance, prodding in and out of your entrance before he finally pulled back for some air.

”Jeez, Jay…” He looked up at you when you pouted, his cheeks and chin were coated with your juices before his eyes cast down to the way you wiggled your hips at him. “…keep going.” You bat your lashes at him, the excitement in your stomach stirs as he tugs his pants and boxer just low enough for his cock to springs out of the tight confinement before gently slapping against his stomach. His thumb keeping your panties aside and your entrance exposed to him, "Calm down, princess." He sighs before his teeth digs into his lower lip, it's been a hard week since he felt anything close to this. Sure, he settled on his fist for the first two days before he completely stopped when he realised that fucking his fist to the thought of you wasn't as good as fucking you.

He slowly moves his hips, managing to bury the tip of his cock inside of you as he lets out a choked moan. "Still feels good as ever." He moaned, head tilted back with his eyes closed. His cock twitches in you when small whines falls past your lips, sending vibrations down to him as the muscles tightening around his length. "Christ, you're still not used to me?" His breath were shaky before he looked down to you, admiring at the clear size difference between the two of you as you tried your best to take every inch of him.

"S'not my fault," You huffed, your legs slightly trembles underneath him. Jason shifts your position slightly, holding you by the waist with one hand while his other hand makes their way under your shirt to fondled with your tits. "Never said it was." He replied, pushing his cock deeper inside of you until he’s halfway in when he stopped, noticing the way you tensed up. “It’s okay, baby. Just a few more inches and the hard part’s over.” Your body shuddered from his whispers, his breath tickling the back of your neck before you quickly nods at his words. His hand reached to wiped the sweats off your forehead before his hips slowly moves, “Mhm, just like that… Just relax.” Jason coos, planting small kisses on your temples.

A whine break out of your sealed lips when he completely buried himself inside of you, filling every crevices off your pussy with his twitching cock. The curve of his length itches just the sweet spot to make you see stars, “Jason…” The sound of you calling his name temporarily distracts him from the way your pussy clamped him down. His fingers had its deadly grips on your hips as you stand on your tip toes just to slightly fuck yourself on his cock, “Yeah?” He croaked, replying back to you with a deeper tone as he glanced down to the way your ass softly slaps against his pelvis, “You’re adjusting?” He asked before you let a small ‘mhm’ left your lips.

“You’re just fucking yourself on me.”

“No, I’m not.” You lied with a crooked grin. Jason rolled his eyes.

“Just look at the damn wall. You’re gonna break that dainty little neck if you keep looking back at me like that.” He mumbled, moving his hips into you in a more quicker pace. “Hold onto my helmet. Drop it and I’m stopping.” He grabbed a fistful off your ass while you quickly grabbed the red helmet, hugging it to your chest. The sound of skin slapping can be heard throughout the dark alleyway, your shared moans and groans reverberates and bounces off the brick walls. He moves his hand down between your legs, his fingers pressing down on your clit as he moves it in sloppy, circular motion. His other hand holding on the handle of his bike, “Lift your ass up, baby.” He grunted, brow furrowing as his hips moves back and forth, every thrust felt like he’s sending you over the edge.

”I’m trying!” You said in a hushed tone, too breathless. You weren’t sure if your knees can take anymore before they buckled to the dirty ground. In an act of desperation, Jason lifts you up with his forearm under your stomach causing your legs to dangled off the ground before he continue shoving his fat cock into your dripping pussy. You let out a small gasp, he’s really doing it-- he’s quite literally carrying you like a doll. “Can’t even do the simplest thing.” He huffed, eyes closed with his the tip of his nose tickling the crook of your neck as your fingers clings to his helmet, not wanting to dropped it lest he stopped just for the sake of making you miserable.

Your eyes lazily gazes at the other end of the alleyway where anyone that decides to passed the alleyway can noticed the both of you. Your cheeks warmed up at the thought, minimizing your moans into small squeaks and whines. You glanced at Jason, hoping he doesn’t notice only for him to sharply thrust into you to elicit a loud moan out of you, green eyes narrowing down at you. “Don’t be quiet,” He whispered, his other hand reached to traced the curve of your spine with his thumb lightly. “Let me hear you.” He dragged his voice to sound slightly whiny just to tease you even further.

You hated how much you expected this from the get go.

Blocking him was never an option, Jason has a knack when it comes to keeping you tied to him. One command from him and you’d rushed back into his arms like a puppy, hopelessly lingering around him. “Feels so good…” You whispered back, lashes thick with salty tears as wanton moans spills out of your swollen lips. You hated the fact that the both of you knows this. You’re not even sure if the both of you were even exes at some point. The feeling of the head of his cock brushing against your sweet spot sends you shivering despite being half dressed, it doesn’t help how godly his cock is. The delicious curve that sends you whining for more, the noticeable vein on the side of his length, the way his balls slaps against your clit, the thickness of it-- all of it drives you insane, fills your body with nothing but carnal desires.

“Outside? Inside?” He asked in between his groans, strands of his black locks sticks to his forehead as his jaw clenches. You know it’s near when his movement grow sloppy and inconsistent, his eyes darkened with sheer lust and the muscles on his bicep flexes. “Fuck, don’t just gimme puppy eyes, princess. Answer me.” He said with gritted teeth, purposely moving his hips rougher into you as you cried out of pleasure. “Out, out, out…” Your babbles almost went incoherent when you choked on your own moans while you blinks away the tears that welled at the corned of your eyes. He nods his head, burying his face into your shoulder as his arm around your waist tightens.

”Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck…” He curses, his head spinning and leaving him dizzy. Jason wanted to stay inside of you badly, the warmth of your cunt wrapping snugly around him screams nothing but heaven. And the fact that you’re already cumming on his cock before he even gets to pulled out? God, you’re just torturing him at this point. He pulled out of you right before he finishes, wet and sticky seeds shooting on your back and staining your skirt as he winces when the cold air hits his cock. “Oh my god.” His chuckle were airy, skin were slightly flushed from the lovemaking. Jason cradled you in his arms, turning you around to face him before placing you on top of his bike.

”You okay?” He asked, softly massaging your inner thighs. His forehead presses against yours, his gaze softened at the sight of you looking back at him with tired eyes. “Yep.” Your answer were short as you steadied your breathing, your arms wrapped around his neck to pulled him closer while Jason fixes your clothes.

”Wanna go rest at my place?”

The both of you stared at each other for a solid minute. You give him a small nod.

“That’s my girl.”

DO NOT COPY, TRANSLATE OR MODIFY ANY OF MY WORKS. ©️ KENNEDYBABY.

#i heard a small snippet of it then got working #ovulating so harddd rnn thank god jason todd were created #dc smut #jason todd smut #jason todd x reader #jason todd x reader smut #jason todd x you #jason todd imagines #jason todd x female reader #tw. exhibitionism

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spacecowboyhotch · 5 months

Text

Personal Issue

summary: santi invites you to his hotel room the day after your engagement to talk. he says the unexpected— that he’s in love with you.

prompt: "Why did you never tell me?" "It was a personal issue." "You being in love with me kind of also involves me." - @creativepromptsforwriting

pairing: santi garcia x f!reader

contents: get together fic, best friends to lovers, simp!santi (he’s lowkey a lil pathetic but i love him), angst, mental health issues/thoughts of dying, cheating, kissing

wc: 1,966

an: a teeny tiny something bc i miss santi. thanks to @ivystoryweaver for the beta <3

oscar characters masterlist

"Why did you never tell me?" You demand, unable to keep the horror out of your voice.

Santi ignores the way your tone scrapes at the wound in his heart— the wound that’s always been open because of you. Always fresh, unable to heal because of you. You always seemed to be just out of reach, slipping through his fingers for one reason or another.

"It was a personal issue,” He reasons, shoving his hands in his pockets.

He can hardly look at you. It’s humbling. He’s never had an issue with charming a woman, but you aren’t just any woman. You’re his best friend. There are too many eggs in this basket.

You scoff, crossing your arms against your chest, "You being in love with me kind of also involves me."

“I didn’t— things were different before.”

“Different,” You test the word, not at all buying it. It feels like bullshit. Like a cop-out.

“Yes, different. We were kids, and then I was gone all the time.”

“No, Santi, you can’t do this to me.”

Santi smiles, though there is no humor in it. You’re right— he shouldn’t be doing this. Not today, not any day, but he’s finally reached his limit. It’s now or never.

“I don’t really have a choice, now did I, cariño?”

You glare at him, about ready to rip his head off because that‘s not true. You and Santiago have known each other for most of your lives— and you’ve loved him for at least half that. He could’ve told you days, weeks, months, years ago that he felt the same. But in true Santiago Garcia fashion, thinking only of himself and the consequences that sit right in front of him, he’d told you today.

Today wouldn’t be so bad if it wasn’t the day after you’d gotten engaged. No, Santi chose the day after you’d finally given yourself to someone else completely, the day after you promised yourself you’d settle and try to stop loving him. What you’ve wanted for years and years on end has finally come and now it feels like some sort of cruel joke.

“That’s one of the most heinous lies you’ve ever told.”

“The Colombian government would disagree.”

“You know what— get the hell out of here. I don’t want to see you ever again. I can’t believe that you think you can just waltz right in here and—“

Santi takes two long strides towards you, closing the gap between you so that he can cup your face. “Tell me no. Say it. You have to say it to me.”

“Santiago, please,” You plead softly with him, your eyes round with fear. Your hands reach up to grasp his, making futile attempts to pull them away. “Don’t make me choose.”

Santi leans closer, the tip of his nose ghosting yours. His eyes are darker than usual, burning into you, a little angry— though he has no right to be— and a little desperate. “Why? Why not, hmm? He’s not that important, is he? Because you know you’ll choose me, don’t you?”

“Stop. Stop. Do you know how unfair this is? How fucked up it is for you to tell me this?”

Santi’s grip on your face tightens— it’s not painful but it’s frantic. You can feel the urgency in his fingertips. “Yes. Yes, I know. And I’ve always wanted to be better for you. I want to be a good man, I want to be worthy. Not some fucked up guy who’s better at killing than he is at telling the woman he loves how much she means to him. But, I’m not.”

“You could try.”

“I have. Don’t you get it, baby, I have. Yesterday when I saw those pictures. When I saw this—“ He tangles his fingers with your own, twisting your hand so you have to stare the ring sat on your finger in the face.

It glistens and gleams like it taunting you. It’s exactly what you wanted— the right cut, the right material—sparkling even in the dark. Your stomach churns at the sight of it. You shouldn’t have said yes, that much you know for sure. When you went back to your apartment last night you sat in the shower, your tears disguised under its spray. And when you had emerged, you’d made yourself a promise. To be a good and loyal spouse to the man that had actually chosen you.

“It drove me fucking insane. I lost it because I’m losing you. I had to try. If you say no, I’ll never come back. I’ll take assignment after assignment but if there’s even a small chance, baby, that you could still love me— because I know you did…I know you do.”

“I don’t want you gone forever, Santi. I said that because I’m angry.”

“You have every right to be.”

“I don’t need you to tell me that.”

“Then what do you need, huh? Tell me, and I’ll give it to you. Whatever you want.”

There’s more than one answer to that, but you have to give him the right answer. You’d just promised yourself last night that you would move on. Who knew that he would make it so difficult.

With a soft, shaky breath you say, “I…I need you to let me go.”

Santi goes dangerously still, his breath catching. “What?”

“I need you to let me go,” You repeat gently, closing your eyes so you don’t have to face him. “I shouldn’t have come here.”

The words sound syrupy in his ears, far away and unreal. He looks at you with confusion. “You want me to let you go?”

“Yes.”

The sharp anger and desperation in Santi’s eyes fade away, leaving his features soft and round and sad. So markedly sad. He lets his eyes trace your face for memorization; lips and eyes, the slope of your nose. He leans in to kiss your forehead, letting out a soft sigh.

Santi has done wrong by so many others and even done wrong by you. But this he’ll do right. If you want him to let you go then he will. He’ll let you walk out of here and never look back. Maybe he’ll get so involved in his work that he won’t think of you or this moment ever again. Maybe something will take him away completely. He flinches at his thought— it’s been a long time since something that has floated around in his mind like that. Taking a step away from you, he lets you go, fingers aching with the ghost of your skin against his.

You rest your face in your hands for a few moments, trying to pull yourself together. And when you straighten, you’re sure not to look Santi in his, just in his general direction. You’re broken enough and meeting his gaze would surely cause you to fall apart.

“Thank you, Santi,” You whisper, not trusting yourself to speak any louder.

He gives you a stiff nod, “Anything for you.”

Why do those words feel like you’re being stabbed in the heart? If he meant them, then why did he wait so long? Why did he do this to the both of you? Your vision blurs a bit with tears and you quickly grab your coat from where it’s laid on his bed, taking deliberate steps towards the door. Your hand lingers on the doorknob— are you sure that you want to do this? To walk away from the man you’ve always wanted?

“Wait,” He calls after you.

You freeze, but don’t turn towards him— that would be asking for trouble. Trouble you are trying so fucking hard to avoid. “What is it?”

“I just— I have to say it to you one more time because I don’t know if I’ll be able to again.”

“I told you I didn’t want you gone for good, Santi. We don’t have to do this, you can just let me walk away and we can act like it never happened,” You say, though you’re not sure if you’re trying to convince him or yourself more.

“I don’t think I can promise to stick around. I can’t watch you marry someone else. I’m not gracious enough, querida.”

“Okay,” You whisper, the tears in your eyes starting to fall.

“I…I love you. I always will.”

Silence falls between you two, an empty cove. Santi hopes that it’ll be enough, that somehow, miraculously you’ll turn around and run into his arms, telling him that you love him too. Instead, he hears a soft sob and watches as your hand rises to wipe at your face before you straighten up and step out into the hall.

When the door shuts behind you he feels like he’s drowning. Like he can’t breathe. His heart is thrumming loudly in his ears, and he crumbles, letting out a groan as his knees hit the ground.

What the fuck has he done? Lost you forever, and told you that he can’t stick around. That was the last time he would ever see you. A world without you is one he’s sure he doesn’t want to be in.

He’s completely paralyzed with fear. He’s not sure how long he sits on the ground like this, shocked and still, but eventually his body starts to ache so badly he’s unable to ignore it. He crawls to the bed, reaching up to rest his weight on it and lift himself onto it. Here he can rot until he can no longer. Until Frankie or Will or Benny come to bang down the door and figure out what the hell is wrong with him.

It’s not long after that that someone does start knocking on his door. Has it been days? One of them was here already. Santi feels like it’s been minutes and weeks all at the same time, time stretching and squeezing in a way that feels unreal. It takes real effort to rise out of bed and make his way to the door. He doesn’t bother to check who it is, opening it with no reservations.

Maybe he died of starvation or dehydration. He must have been lying there much longer than he thought because it’s you. You’re standing at the door, tear-stained and so goddamn beautiful. This has to be heaven— except he’s undeserving.

“I love you too,” You blurt out.

“What?”

“I love you too,” You repeat. When Santi says nothing, staring at you in a daze you start to ramble. “I tried to go home and I couldn’t sleep. And then I drove around a bunch but I couldn’t stop crying because how am I supposed to live my life without you? Then all of a sudden I was here again. I love you, Santiago.”

“You love me.”

“Yes, I love you. Are you okay?”

Santi feels like his body has recalibrated. “Am I— get over here,” He murmurs, reaching to pull you into his room and crushing your mouth to his.

He presses you against the wall, covering your body with his own as he completely devours your mouth, forcing his way in and sucking at your tongue. All you can do is melt into him, hands scrambling to find purchase in the fabric of his shirt so that you can clutch him closer. His mouth is firm and so sweet. You want to kiss him and kiss him and kiss him for the rest of your life. Something in your brain reminds you that maybe, just maybe, if he loves you as much as he claims he does you will. It has you giggling into his mouth.

He grins into the kiss. “My kissing is funny, is it?”

“Funny isn’t the word I’d use for it but just to be sure— kiss me again?”

“Anything for you,” He murmurs, his mouth capturing yours once more.

santi taglist: @jitterbugs927, @theconsultingdoctor10, @tanzthompson, @clairevoyanceee, @moonmalice, @tiffanypooh, @dearvirtualdiary-blog1, @marc-spectorr, @xbellaxcarolinax, @toracainz, @mccn-bcys, @missdictatorme, @whatthefishh

#santi garcia x reader #santiago garcia x reader #santi garcia x fem!reader #santiago garcia x fem!reader #triple frontier #triple frontier fanfiction #arson writes

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bellewintersroe · 8 months

Note

hiiiii! can I get something about Lando but reader is Charles or Carlos 's sister? Even just fluff. thank u❤️

thank you for your request!! really in my Lando feels atm fuming after qualifying but it’s fineeee, I love this idea sm I’ve been thinking about it all day <3 <3 You’re Carlos’ younger sister who’s English isn’t so good, but somehow Mr Lando Norris who’s had an eye on you for years has you under his wing, much to Carlos’s surprise.

warnings: none, I just hope this makes sense because I am half asleep writing this.

“Hello.” A British accent filled your ears, causing your head to turn at the familiar voice, hair bouncing with your movement. Stood besides where you sat was Lando Norris, one of your brothers close friends whom he drove with for many years. Your lips immediately tugged up, blinking in surprise at how much he’d grown, despite the fact he was still a year older than you.

“Lando, hello!” As you stood, Lando felt his heart beat in a funny way, followed by the sensation sinking down to his stomach. Butterflies. He knew he had the hots for you, Carlos’s younger sister, but now he felt nervous?!

“How are you?” You greeted him in a friendly hug, wrapping your arms tightly around the taller boy. You were positive there was a time when you both reached the same height.

“Ummm.” You began, unsure of what he just spoke. Your English was nowhere near as good as your brother or sisters, hell even your dads. “Are you good?” He repeated as your smile widened, offering him an amused beam.

“Good? I am good.” You’d nodded, trying to think the words in English to ask him how he was. “¿Cómo estás?” you’d furrowed your brows, scanning over Lando’s gentle eyes. They still glistened the exact same way they always did, but here now, he somehow looked 10x more handsome than he ever had before.

“Huh?” He frowned a little, at your giggle, his lips tugged right back up. “Good?” You asked, pointing towards him.

“Ohhhh, yes, yes I am good! Are you here to watch Carlos?” Your head cocked to the side, a little confused, offering him a nervous grin. “Ahhh, okay, let me just-” he pulled out his phone, whipping out Google translate. Recognising what it was you immediately laughed out loud.

“What? I want to talk to you?” He giggled innocently, the words not computing in your mind.

“No tengo idea de lo que estás diciendo ahora.” (I have no idea what you are saying right now).

Lando handed you the phone over, playing the Spanish out loud. Google translate distorted the sentences slightly, but it made perfect sense.

I just wanted to talk to you, I haven’t seen you in over a year.

Lando watched you chuckle as you typed back your sentence, eyes fixated to your beauty. Every time you’d come to watch a race or a practice he always sought you out, conversation was difficult, something that frustrated him, he always wanted to get to know you better than what he knew surface level.

how sweet, you should come sit, I hurt my ankle the other week so can’t sit down for long. I can’t believe it’s been a year!

Lando glanced down noticing your bandaged up ankle to which you pursed your lips at playfully before letting out an “ow!” Sound, just to prove how much it hurt. “Okay.” He nodded, sitting besides you on the sofa’s of the paddock.

“What’re you doing in here anyway? Can’t see much of the race from here?” He swallowed, knees knocking against your own bare ones. “¿qué?” Lando cursed, forgetting every now and then he couldn’t just blurt out whatever he wanted.

“It’s ok.” You smiled, using some of the English you knew. The two of you made eye contact, his phone looking extra large in your hands, fingertips brushing against his own. Lando swore you were flirting with him, you were making him feel nervous and Lando never felt nervous around girls.

Time had passed. Neither of you knew how long, but the conversation had flowed so much over Google translate, Lando’s arm resting comfortably behind you. “My English… is… shit.” You copied his curse word. “Yes!!!” Lando squeaked in amusement, slugging an arm over your shoulder and squeezing you.

“Shit, fuck.” You cursed, placing a hand on his leg to stabilise your movement. You saw how Lando’s smirked, licking his lips as his eyes dropped down to where your hand slid off slowly. “Now you’re gonna tell your brother I’ve taught you all this shit.”

“Shit?” You repeated in confusion, eyes trailing down his front, back over his lips. Landon thought he’d melt on the spot under your intense gaze. He was trying to meet it back equally as flirtatiously but he swore his nerves just got in the way. If it wasn’t for Google translate he was positive it would be much sexier.

you’re going to tell your brothers I’ve been teaching you to swear “No!” You exclaimed, laughing and nudging his arm playfully. “Please don’t.”

“O tal vez lo haga y te meta en problemas...” (Or maybe I will and get you in trouble). Your Spanish was so effortlessly sexy to Lando, he always loved a girl who spoke in a foreign accent, maybe that obsession started somewhere between meeting you and speaking to you, but he’d never openly admit that.

“I don’t even know what you’re saying.” He laughed, shaking his head, fingers trailing over your shoulder slightly. You shared a moment of amused eye contact, heart racing at the painfully sexual, intense moment, Lando thought you were going to kiss him. That was until your eyes trailed behind him slightly. The fluttering in his chest stopped when you started giggling, your brother stood behind with a confused expression. “Really?” Carlos sassed, Lando turning up over his shoulder. “Oh hey man.” He spoke casually, too casually. You laughed without even knowing what was being said. “Are you having fun?” Carlos questioned towards Lando, narrowing his eyes at his best friend whose arm was slung over his little sister.

“Y/n, ¿No me di cuenta de que eras tan cercano a Lando?” (I did not realise you were so close to Lando?) The sound of his name mixed with a foreign language he couldn’t understand had him confused. His arm slipped back onto his own lap after realising Carlos was looking rather too inquisitively. Ok maybe he was making moves on his sister, but who could blame him?!

“Sólo estábamos poniéndonos al día. Muchas gracias señor entrometido!” (We were just having a catch up. Thank you very much mr nosy!) Carlos laughed at his younger sister who’d already turned back to the Brit sat besides her, she looked completely enthralled by him, giving him all kinds of heart eyes. Carlos knew he was a nice guy but it was weird seeing his baby sister like this with his closest friend.

“How are you talking?” Carlos then asked Lando who looked a little confused, left out of the conversation prior. “Google translate.” He snickered, waving his phone up. Carlos nodded at the inventiveness. “Ah. Nice.” It wasn’t uncomfortable, but there was a little awkwardness that lingered as the three of you kinda sat there. Truthfully, Lando and you were waiting for your brothers departure, leaving you be, to continue your conversation- if you could call it that.

“¿Necesitas que te lleven a casa? ¿Me voy ahora?” (Do you need a lift home, I am going now). Carlos then asked you, knowing he was your only option of a ride home, you couldn’t help but feel a little disappointment. You were positive Carlos saw it written all over your face, so did Lando.

“What did you say?” Lando questioned. “Oh, I just asked if she wanted a ride home. I brought her.”

“I mean… I can drive her back. We’re having a good time.” He cheeked only a little. He wanted her to stay, he wanted to drive her back. Winding up Carlos in the process was a little funny though.

“Este idiota dijo que puede llevarte a casa. ¿Quieres hacer eso?” (This idiot said he can drive you home. Would you wanna do that?) Your laugh back to Lando caused him to frown back to Carlos who was too laughing. “Hey, what did you say to her? What did you call me? What did he call me?”

“Idiota.” Carlos repeated, teasing again as you laughed in amusement at your brothers antics.

“Me quedaré aquí y me llevarán a casa. Gracias, Lando” (I will stay here and get a lift home. Thank you Lando).

Hearing his words roll off your lips caused his lips to tug up again knowing you’d agreed. “That’s ok.” His tone was much softer rather than when he spoke to Carlos, or anybody else for that matter. With a quick goodbye and a second eyeing up of the boy chatting up his sister, Carlos disappeared, leaving the two of you be again.

You felt a little nervous, for no particular reason. So when his eyes were on you again you’d begun giggling out of nowhere. “You are cute you know that?” Whatever he said, you liked the sound of that…

#Lando Norris x reader #Lando Norris x you #lando norris #lando Norris fanfic #lando Norris imagine #lando Norris fluff #lando Norris x Carlos sainz sister #Carlos sainz sister x reader #F1 x reader #f1 x you

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soulrph · 2 years

Text

𝐅𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐋/𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐈𝐂 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒.

as requested by a very wonderful, very dear, very lovely friend! i hope you all enjoy using these as much as i enjoyed writing them! i honestly found these so nice and therapeutic to write tho like oml i cannot get over it! DO NOT ADD TO THIS LIST PLEASE!

“ oh, i knew you could do it! i’m so proud of you! “

“ i’m thinking of doing a movie/game night at my place, if you wanna join in? “

“ how many mugs of coffee have you had today?! that’s enough, now, you go take a nap before you buzz through the ceiling! “

“ i’ll send you the recipe, if you like! but, in the same breath, you should know that i really don’t mind continuing to cook this for you; it’s no trouble at all, really! “

“ are you sure there isn’t anything i can do to help you in the kitchen? “

“ come on in! take a seat! i’ll fix you up a plate, there’s more than enough to go around! “

“ why don’t you spend the night here? really, it’s no trouble to fix up the guest room, and we have plenty of spare pajamas and toiletries if that’s what’s bothering you! “

“ look, i get the whole lone wolf thing, trust me, i do. but... you do understand that there’ll always be a place here for you, don’t you? that door is always open to you, no matter what. that’s a promise. “

“ why don’t i make you a cup of tea, and you can tell me all about it? “

“ [NAME]? hey, hey, hey, what’s the matter? are you okay? what’s wrong? oh, come here... “

“ jeez, i don’t even wanna know how you got that battle wound there; sit down and let me fix it up, won’t you? “

“ hey, stranger! it’s been a minute, huh? what’ve you been up to? how have you been? hell, where have you been? “

“ now, now, don’t be silly; put that wallet away. i invited you out for dinner, so i’ll pay the bill, right? you can get the next one! “

“ hey, you didn’t order anything! don’t worry about it, huh? here, take half my sandwich; i can never finish the damn thing, anyway, you’re really doing me the favor! and there’s coffee in that flask, so help yourself to that, too! i’ve been trying to cut back, anyhow. “

“ hey, i know it’s really late, but... i didn’t know who else to call. “

“ everything’s gonna be okay, i promise. just tell me where you are, okay? and i’ll come and get you right this second. “

“ well, we have to celebrate your good news! what’s your favorite dinner? oh, and cake! we can’t have a decent celebration without cake, right? “

“ hey, hey, it’s okay, relax. i’m not about to nag you for skipping out on curfew, alright? have you eaten anything? because i saved you a plate, and it’s in the oven if you want it. “

“ now, now, none of that self-hate talk! we all have bad days, right? we all mess up sometimes and make silly mistakes. but it doesn’t matter at the end of the day; it just makes the good days all the better! “

“ guess who has an extra ticket for the concert this weekend! wanna come with me? they’re practically front row! “

“ you’re still coming over for dinner tonight, right? “

“ hey! what are your plans for the holidays? because, if you didn’t have any, i have an offer for you! or an open invitation! “

“ did you do something different with your hair? it looks amazing! “

“ oh my god, where have you been?! i was so worried about you! are you okay? did you get hurt?! “

“ we should go out tonight! come on, you can ransack my wardrobe if you like! i have a friend who’s the bouncer at that new night club, they can get us in for free! “

“ i made you some breakfast, if you’re hungry? it’s your favorite! unless you’ve got a new favorite, in which case... “

“ don’t forget to take an umbrella! “

“ let me know when you get there so i know you’re safe, okay? “

“ i watched that show you recommended last week! it was so good! can you believe that season finale, though? “

“ rough night, huh? i know that feeling. here, help yourself; the coffee is fresh, and the waffles are pretty damn good today, if i do say so myself! “

“ i knew you’d forget yours, so i brought extra. go ahead, help yourself! “

“ you’re welcome to stay for as long as you like. what’s mine is yours, okay? you don’t need to ask permission, just take whatever you want. “

“ you should get some sleep, okay? my room is just down the hall if you need anything. “

“ you don’t need to be so polite around here, you know! help yourself; i don’t bite! “

“ hey now, never apologize for feeling emotions, okay? humans are meant to feel all this stuff, no matter how good or bad the feelings are. besides; shoulders are built to be cried on! “

“ you should keep that sweater! it looks much better on you than it does on me; brings out your eyes! “

“ i never realized you could cook! the apron suits you very nicely! “

“ if you don’t have any plans this weekend, we should do something together! “

“ remember, if you want to leave early, just call me and i’ll come get you, okay? “

“ would you come on in inside out of that rain?! you’ll catch your death! “

“ don’t worry about it, okay? no apologies necessary; just breathe, everything’s good. “

“ it’s okay! no use crying over spilt milk, am i right? fetch me that mop and i’ll clean it up; you should find a clean shirt in the third drawer in my room, too! “

“ here, grab a plate; i made your favorite, and there’s more than enough for you to have seconds and take home a tonne of leftovers, too! “

“ would you mind setting the table for me while i finish up in the kitchen? “

“ you want some hot cocoa before you go to bed? i’m more than happy to have one with you; not to praise myself or anything, but my hot cocoa is the best in town! “

“ you did it! oh, congratulations! quick, i’m gonna fetch the sparkling cider, and then i’ll book a table somewhere fancy; we’re going to celebrate in style! “

“ oh god, you’re burning up a fever, you poor thing! here, lie down, let’s get you some water and a nice cool cloth, huh? “

“ how are you feeling? i thought you might be hungry, so i made some tea and toast. “

“ i thought i might find you out here... this must be your favorite spot, huh? it’s nice! “

“ how are you? and be real with me, now; i can tell when you’re not being honest with me. you’ve got a tell. “

“ figured you might be needing an extra blanket in this weather. you mind if i sit with you for a while? “

“ let’s go for a walk, huh? i know this place that does the best coffee you’ll ever have! “

“ i can’t believe you’ve never seen this movie before! we have to fix this immediately; you get the popcorn, i’ll order in the pizza and get the tv set up. “

“ wow... that pun was so awful, it actually became good again. nicely done! “

“ i know you have that meeting today, so i thought i’d come wish you luck. and give you my lucky socks! “

“ hey! i hope you’re hungry, i spared you some waffles and pancakes from breakfast this morning! “

“ maybe you’re not ready to talk just now. but i want you to know that, whenever you are, my door is always open to you. understand? “

“ i’m not here to say i told you so, don’t worry. i’m not that cruel. i’m just here to comfort my friend. “

“ you’re here so often, i figured it was about time you had your very own mug! “

“ do you mind if i put you down as my emergency contact? “

“ you should move in with me! i have a spare room, the rent is cheap, it’s closer to work... i mean, only if you want to, but i’m very much in favor of this! “

“ i know that things haven’t been easy for you lately, so... i was thinking, maybe we could plan a little vacation together? “

“ pull the car over, alright? you can get some sleep in the back seat, and i’ll take over the driving. “

“ woah, woah, woah... slow it down a few miles, huh? what’s going on? where’s the fire? “

“ do you want a hug? i give some really good hugs; i nearly got voted the best hug-giver in the continent, once! come on, you know you want to! “

“ hey! so i’m after having a really crappy day. you wanna get take-out and watch a movie at my place tonight? “

“ i remember you saying you didn’t like this ingredient last time, so i fixed you up something else. “

#rp meme #roleplay meme #rp prompt #roleplay prompts #roleplay prompt #sentence starters #sentence starter #found family sentence starters #dialogue prompt #dialogue prompts #writing prompt #writing prompts

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revasserium · 9 months

Text

at first sight

ft. kageyama, daichi, sugawara, tsukishima, osamu, atsumu

kageyama.

the first time he sees you, he knows you’re the one — the knows the same way he knew when his grandfather had put a volleyball into his one year old arms, the same way he knew when he’d hit his first perfect service ace, the same way he knows on the first of september, on the first breath of chilly morning air that fall is here. he knows because when he bumps into you outside ariake station, all flustered fingers and a too-deep frown and the stuttering question of excuse me, how exactly do you get to ariake stadium? on his lips, you’d smiled instead of stared, glanced down at the crumpled directions suga-senpai had written down for him for a single second before jerking your head towards the wide crosswalk, asking him to follow you and he had, without a second thought. he’d known then, deep in the seat of his stomach, like a swallowed pill or a really well-done bowl of noodles that you were going to be the one. he doesn’t know why — can’t explain the science or the sanity, but when he’d asked you, again in that strained, stuttering voice of his, still frowning too hard, if you could leave your number because he wanted to thank you with maybe a drink, or… something else if you don’t drink. i mean, i can’t drink since it’s the peak season but… and you’d reached for the piece of paper, scribbled down your number and winked, he had known. the same way he knew before every service ace against france — he had known. oh, this is it. you’re the one i’ve been waiting for.

daichi.

the first time he sees you, he’d… well, he had doubted. because, you see, he’s never been one for fairytales but you were the new hire at suga’s school and he’d seen how good you were with the kids, how they adored you, and he thought that maybe, just maybe, he could adore you like that too. and he did — still does, in fact. he’d known later that night, when suga had dragged him to an after school thing, shoved him down at the table and ordered a round of drinks, though daichi’s sure he’d already been drunk on the sound of your laughter, bright and sparkling and champagne sweet. he’d known later that week, when you’d shown up outside the station with a colorfully wrapped bento and the sweetest smile, saying something about having made too much food the night before, and that the station’s on the way to work anyways. he’d known then that you were the one, the only one for him. and you see, daichi’s never been one for fairytales but he does believe in magic — there’s the magic of meeting, the magic of knowing, and so much the magic of falling in love. and he wakes up every morning, smiling, knowing that he’ll taste that same magic every moment of every day, because he gets to spend all those days and all those nights with you.

sugawara.

the first time he sees you, he knows you’re the one — he knew like he’d always known himself, implicitly and without question — he knew, and he told everyone in the world — except for you. of course, he could never tell you — not yet, not till he’s gotten it perfect, the perfect confession, the perfect day, the perfect time — except a part of him also knows that there’s no such thing as perfection (except, of course, for you) and that all he’s doing is stalling and sure, even tsukishima had called him out on it but he’d convinced himself that not yet. it takes three months for him to ask you out on your first date. and three days after that for him to have a wedding fully planned in his head. the first time you kiss, you kiss him, and he can’t really remember what the pair of you were doing but he can remember it was cold — it was winter, and then suddenly, your lips were on his and he wasn’t cold anymore. he wasn’t anything anymore other than happy — so, so stupidly happy. he knew then, like he’d known for so, so many days and months before, that you were the one. the kiss — well (so he tells you later on, many years later), the kiss just sealed the deal.

tsukishima.

the first time he sees you, he knows you’re the one — of course he doesn’t tell anyone or do anything about it, because there’s no reason to make a fuss, is there? he knew like he’d known, somewhere in the back of his mind, that he’d never really be able to give up volleyball, that he loved it and loves it still. he knew, but knowing and acting on the knowing are two totally different things and see — he had no reason to think he and you might have anything in common, him with his quiet, museum-job, you with your summertime smile and sun-bleached hair, powdered sugar dusting the front of your apron as you greeted customers at the sweets shop down the street from the museum. he’d never had a beignet before he met you and yet — the first time he takes a bite, he thinks he might start to believe in love at first sight. when you ask him what he thinks, it takes everything in his power not to say i think i might be in love with you. he doesn’t say that, of course he doesn’t — he says something else he can’t remember, something casual and nonchalant, but you’d grinned like he said what he meant to say anyway. he takes another bite of the beignet and licks his lips. there’s powdered sugar everywhere and he finds that he doesn’t really mind.

osamu.

the first time he sees you, you’re talking to his twin brother. and it’s not a strange thing, atsumu’s always been the more outgoing on of the two, but he pauses nonetheless, pauses to stare even though he knows it’s rude, but… well, he can’t really help it. not when it’s you. and then atsumu is laughing and introducing you to him, saying something about you being the new assistant manager of the team but osamu’s entire world shrinks to the size of this counter, of a bowl of rice and the white of your teeth as you stretch your lips into a smile. the shop isn’t open yet, and you help him with tea. the whole team is there but osamu doesn’t remember a single thing anyone says — he just remembers the smooth of your skin when your leg had brushed up against his under the table. he remembers thinking then — ah, this is it, isn’t it? and so, it had been. it takes a week for atsumu to figure it out, and by then, osamu’s already taken you on three different dates to three different places. you’d laughed when he told you later on that atsumu had been pissed because apparently, he’d thought you were cute first. but you’d shaken your head, taken his hand in yours and swung them between your bodies, saying that y’know, the first time i saw you… i knew it’d be you.

atsumu.

the first time he sees you, you’re walking out of his brother’s shop — there’s a grain of rice at the edge of your lips and he nearly bumps into you because he can’t stop staring. he leans in to flick the rice grain off your face before he even knows your name, and that is how he knew. your blush had been too cute, your wide-eyed surprise to sweet for him to let go of. the rush of adrenaline making his whole body feel heady and light, the weight of the summer sky draped across his shoulders. he smirks, cocks his head, asks if you’d like another drink — on the house. he never imagined you might say no — and you don’t. atsumu’s never told anyone he believes in love at first sight — he’s never needed to. osamu has always known. they’d found volleyball together, hadn’t they? and hadn’t that been a decided thing too? the second he landed his first ace, he had known. and so, he claims, it had been like that with you. he’d ducked back into the shop, met osamu’s eyes, slung an arm around your shoulders and grinned. he knew, and you too, you’d known, even though it had taken him a while to coax it out of you, but he says the way you smiled gave it away. and maybe it did — not that it matters. he’d seen you that afternoon, coming out of his brother’s shop and he’d known there’d be no one else but you.

requests are open :)

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solarmorrigan · 6 months

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hallo! I saw the angsty prompt list thing, and the “don’t trust me.” One kind of stood out to me. You don’t have to write it, but you’re one of my favorite writers on here so I thought it might be cool :)

Hullo! So I did fill this prompt once already, but I'd had a bunch of ideas for it and I was in the mood for something a little softer, so I did another! Thanks for giving me the opening to write it (and for the compliment, you're so kind?? 😭)

[General warning for mention of Steve's shitty parents and their generally shitty parenting technique]

Angsty-ish Prompt List

“Why am I the one doing this?” Steve grouses, straining slightly as he struggles with the full box on the top shelf. “Instead of, y’know, you?”

“You’re stronger than me,” Eddie replies readily.

“Bullshit, I’ve seen you lugging amps and shit around during your shows,” Steve shoots back, grumbling as he works the box free from the high shelf.

“You got me.” Eddie grins, though Steve’s back is turned to him. “I just like watching you work, sweetheart.”

From the depths of the storage closet, Steve gives an audible snort of laughter, but he also stops arguing. Then, with a little noise of triumph, Steve finally manages to tug the box free, holding it aloft long enough to back out of the closet and then heaving it down onto the floor, where it lands in a clatter of plastic and jingling bells.

“Excellent.” Eddie falls upon the box, rubbing his hands together in anticipation before tugging at the tucked flaps. “There’s one more box, would you mind? It’s on the floor; long rectangle.”

“You said there was one box,” Steve says, eyes narrowed.

“Whoops, miscounted,” Eddie says breezily, smiling up at Steve with as much innocence as he can muster. “You know how bad I am at all that academic shit.”

“Says the guy who plays a math game for fun,” Steve drawls.

For the sake of time, Eddie leaves the bait where it is, instead batting his eyelashes up at Steve. “Pretty please, pretty boy? It’s definitely the last one.”

Steve holds out for exactly five more seconds before retreating into the closet with a roll of his eyes. “If you suddenly remember one more after this, I’m suddenly gonna remember something I have to do back at my house and leave you to do all the decorating on your own,” he calls back, muffled from behind the coats Eddie can hear him shoving aside to find the last box.

Eddie’s at least eighty percent sure he’s bluffing, but it’s no matter – he hadn’t been lying. Most of what he needs is in the box in front of him: strands of garland, wrapped tangles of lights, and the same ugly pinecone wreath with the world’s most annoying string of jingle bells attached that Wayne’s been hanging since Eddie was a kid. Everything else—the ornaments, more lights, and, of course, the tree—is in the hefty, rectangular box Steve is currently hauling out into the entryway.

Normally, Wayne would be there to help, but his and Eddie’s work schedules have fallen out of sync in the hectic holiday rush of extra shifts; if one has the day off, the other is too tired by the time they get home to entertain anything as energy-consuming as getting up on a ladder to hang lights. Eddie and Steve, however (somehow; miraculously), share at least one day off a week, which has seen Steve recruited as Eddie’s backup decorating partner.

“That it?” Steve breathes as releases the box and stands straight, tugging his sweater down from where it’s ridden up (Eddie can’t believe he’s dating someone who unironically wears ugly Christmas sweaters. He can’t believe Steve makes them look good).

“That’s it,” Eddie promises. He plucks two balled-up strings of lights from the box in front of him and stands up, one under each arm. “So here’s what I’m thinking: I’ll get started on the outside, while you,” Eddie puts a boot to the tree box and shoves it towards Steve with a grunt; even across the laminate flooring it doesn’t slide easy, practically cocooned in layers of packing tape from so many years of opening and resealing, “get the tree going.”

Already halfway wrapped up in how he’s going to string the lights (he’d always loved decorating the outside of the trailer, and now he gets to figure out a new configuration for the tiny porch on his and Wayne’s equally tiny new house; it ain’t much, as they say, but it’s home – or, at least, it’s starting to feel like it), Eddie nearly misses the look of confusion that crosses Steve’s face.

“Uh… how do you want it set up?” Steve asks.

Eddie cocks an eyebrow at him. “Stand goes on the floor, pointy end goes up. I have faith in you, Steve.”

Steve rolls his eyes again, but with his frown in place he looks like he might actually be irritated. “I mean, you have to tell me how you want it, like, decorated and shit. Where it’s supposed to go, that sort of thing.”

“I’m pretty sure you’ve decorated a tree before, man,” Eddie says. “I know I saw one at your house last time I was there.”

“Yeah, but that’s my house. This is yours. You have to tell me how you want it,” Steve says.

Once again for the sake of time, Eddie leaves the obvious opening for a joke where it lies. “Steve, it’s – y’know, lights, garland, ornaments, it’s not rocket science. I trust you to do a good job.”

“No, don’t trust me, just tell me how you want it decorated,” Steve insists. “If you don’t tell me, I’m going to do it wrong.”

“It’s… a Christmas tree, sweetheart,” Eddie says slowly. “You can’t do it wrong.”

“Oh, I assure you, I can,” Steve says with a laugh. “Seriously, like – people are super particular about how their trees are set up, I think. My mom always has been. I remember when I was, like, ten, she and my dad had been away for a while, and we were coming up on Christmas pretty fast, and none of the decorations were up, so I figured I’d at least put the tree up. Surprise them when they got home, right? Except my mom lost her shit when they got home and saw it.”

“Noooot in a good way, I take it,” Eddie hazards.

“Nah, I did it all wrong. The tinsel wasn’t spread out right, and there’s only supposed to be a certain number of ornaments on each branch, and she wanted the angel on top, not the star, so she made me take the whole thing down.” Steve shrugs. “So, seriously, even if you don’t think you have a certain way you want it done, I’ll probably manage to find the exact way you don’t want it, so you should just tell me.”

“Steve, I promise, that tree is, like, older than I am; you can’t make it worse. As long as you don’t set it on fire, I’ll be happy with it,” Eddie says.

“That’s not–” Steve cuts himself off, running one hand through his hair with a strained little laugh. “I don’t understand why you won’t just tell me how you want it done.”

Eddie shakes his head, dropping the bundles of lights back into their box; he hates when this happens – hates when he stumbles over some mundane thing that Steve’s parents have fucked up for him that Eddie only manages to poke like a kid with a sharp stick at a beehive because he didn’t even realize it could be an issue. Who the fuck gives their kid a complex over how the Christmas tree is decorated? Who does that?

(Then again, Eddie’s pretty sure it’s about more than just their expectations for the tree.)

“Okay, I need you to listen to me,” Eddie says, voice firm but hands gentle as he reaches for Steve’s own. “I swear I’m not trying to set you up for failure. I’m really not. The tree isn’t supposed to look perfect. It’s supposed to be kinda crooked and covered in dumb ornaments you can’t even remember the stories behind and only have, like, half a string of popcorn around it because you ate most of it when your uncle wasn’t looking and didn’t leave enough for the tree.”

Steve stares at him, brows furrowed, like he’s trying to piece what Eddie’s telling him into what he already knows about the world, like he needs both things to be true, even though they don’t fit together.

“Actually…” Eddie says slowly, deciding that it may be best to change tack, “come to think of it, there’s one thing about decorating the tree that I should’ve told you. Most important thing, really. Can’t believe I forgot.”

“What?” Steve asks, halfway between wary and eager for the instruction.

“You’re supposed to do it together. That’s what makes it good.” Eddie lets go of one of Steve’s hands to smack the heel of his own to the side of his forehead. “Duh. Silly me.”

Steve shakes his head, letting it hang forward with a little huff of a laugh as some of the tension leeches from his shoulders. “You’re such a dork, do you know that?”

“Mhm,” Eddie hums, grabbing Steve by the front of that stupid, ugly sweater (it has reindeer on it, how does it not look awful on him?) and pulling him up for a quick kiss. “So how about you help me do the outside lights, and then we’ll come back inside and do the tree together?”

One last flicker of uncertainty crosses Steve’s face. “What about Wayne?”

A flutter of fondness rolls through Eddie’s chest, the same as it always does when Steve doesn’t just consider Eddie, but the things and people important to him. “His favorite part is stringing the popcorn. We can do that when he gets home.”

“Oh.” Steve nods, as though he is considering this very seriously, then smirks at Eddie. “Should we make some to eat before he gets back, so you leave enough for the tree?”

Eddie smacks him on the shoulder, holding back a laugh. “Alright, Harrington, just for that, you’re the one untangling the lights.”

“What, like it’s a punishment?” Steve asks. “I’m great at untangling Christmas lights.”

“Oh, baby,” Eddie presses a hand to his heart and pretends to swoon over the box of decorations, “when you say things like that, it makes me want to keep you forever.”

And Steve’s answering grin at that is far brighter than anything they’re going to decorate with today, Eddie is certain.

#finntheehumaneater #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #eddiesteve #I also wanted to write something a little holiday-related!#so I'll be honest this is a little schmoopy but like. that happens sometimes yanno?#solar wrote #answers from solar

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trippinsorrows · 6 days

Text

with me + part five

authors notes: hi! you guys are so freaking awesome and sweet and like gawww, so grateful for such kind words and support!

so i realized that i used the wwe names for jimmy, jey, naomi, etc. that was my bad. i'll be using their real names moving forward for the sake of flow and consistency.

also keep forgetting to state that current timeline is 2023. like, this chapter is fall 2023. everything, so far, post breakup for joe and reader has been 2023. i plan to follow that timeline, so make of that what you will.

i hope this chapter isn't too boring to people!

warnings: fluff, language, suggestive content

song inspo: with me by destiny’s child

words: 5.7k

tags: @pixiedust4000 @southerngirl41 @yolobloggers @msbigredmachine @wonderingfashion

“So, are we just going to continue to ignore each other?”

You’re not sure how, but you sense his presence long before he even says anything. And instantly, your mood is dampened, not that you were in the best spirits to begin with. You didn’t get much sleep the night before, for reasons you cannot fathom. But, it’s annoying as hell, especially when you have an ex turned fuck buddy who can’t seem to get a fucking clue ready to confront you outside of your daughter's preschool.

Sighing heavily, you pull out your phone to play around with your lock screen, because you really don’t have anyone you need to message in this moment. But, he doesn’t need to know that. “Not now, Amir.”

“Because you’re so busy?”

“Because I don’t care.” One thing you’ve learned about yourself over the years is that once you’re annoyed with someone, there’s no filter on your mouth and you cannot be held liable for what comes out of it. “Now, please, go away.”

He just looks at you, sun shining down on his waves and chocolate complexion. It’s unfortunate outside of his looks that he’s an overall trash partner. Decent friend. Shitty boyfriend. “You always do that shit, you know? Pull and then push. It was kinda cute when we were kids. Now, it’s just annoying.”

You were standing outside of Callie’s preschool, waiting for the kids to be dismissed, waiting for your little girl to come running out with a smile on her face, request on the tip of her tongue. It’s usually something small like wanting to show you what she learned in school. Lately, it’s been the same.

Can I call Joe?

A part of you feels bad for the amount of calls he probably gets in one day just from Callie alone. She took your offer for her to call him whenever he was available to another degree, not that he minded. He took as many as he could, listening to her talk and talk about whatever happened to be on her mind in that moment. And you let her.

What kind of mother would you be if you stopped her from talking to her dad? Even if she doesn’t know that’s who he is.

It’s been almost two weeks since he left, and she clearly misses him. You often overhear her asking about when he’s coming again. You also receive those questions. It’s something you and him discuss via text but haven’t landed on a date yet.

Communicating with Joe is also something that’s still an adjustment. It’s not as difficult or uncomfortable, because it’s almost entirely about Callie, but still.

“If that’s the case, why do you bother?” You manage a less insensitive tone, even if you know good and well you’ve never led this man on. Amir has always heard and believed what he wanted to believe. That was the problem. He never listened to you.

“Because I fucking care about your annoying ass, duh.”

His delivery, the tone, and cadence. You laugh. It’s probably inappropriate at the moment, but it does bring a smile to his face as well. “Softie.”

He moves closer to you, arms crossed. “I’m serious, Y/N. You know how I feel about you. How I’ve always felt about you.”

Leaning against your car, you respond as calmly as you can, “and you know I’ve always made it clear I’m not looking for anything more. We had our time, Amir. It didn’t work out. Now we just help each other get off. I don’t know why you keep trying to make it more than what it is.”

“A date. One date,” he implores. A waste of time, because your answer is no. It’s been no and will continue to be no. “You haven’t even given ‘adult’ us a chance.”

There’s a headache in your near future, one that’s reminiscent of past ones only Amir seems to induce. It’s interesting how he went from indifferent asshole to clingy asshole. You almost miss the earlier version.

Chocolate was supposed to be good for the soul, so why was he so draining to yours?

“Amir…..” You try to pick your words carefully and be mindful of your tone. “This is getting real old. I think we need to stop messing around, because we’re clearly not on the same page.” The next part is something you probably shouldn’t share, but you call yourself trying to be open and clear. “Calista’s dad is back, and we’re trying to navigate coparenting, so—”

“What?” He stops you, shock written over his handsome face. “Are you serious? You’re letting that motherfucker back in ya’ll life?”

This time, it’s his tone that jumps, accusatory and harsh. You immediately grow defensive. “You don’t know him.”

“God, why do you defend him like this? Is it that Stockholm Syndrome shit? He left you. He left you and his kid. What kind of man does that? And you’re just letting him back in? Just gonna jump back on his dick? Letting him around Callie? She’s old enough now to remember when he decides to leave again. I don’t get how you don’t see that. You her mama. You supposed to look out for her.”

And now, you’re done trying to be nice, trying to be mindful that he’s still another human being with feelings. Because one thing you never have and never will tolerate is someone insinuating you’re not looking out for your daughter. You’re not perfect, but you know that you’re a devoted, dutiful mother.

“It’s obvious comprehension isn’t your strong suit, which I should have known based off the fact that I always had to help your dumbass do your homework back when we were in school.” All bets….off. “My baby? My life? My pussy? All my business. You don’t get to judge the decisions I make for my child nor the role that her father has in her life. That’s between me and him. Keep your nose out my fucking business. Don’t worry about me hitting you up anymore. That’s dead.”

Your rose will do just fine. Hell, there’s gotta be at least one other eligible bachelor in town you could fuck if absolutely need be. But, you know damn well you won’t be messaging Amir anymore. He comes with too much baggage. It’s not worth it. You refuse to let a nigga whose height starts with a 5 stress you out.

True to his nature, he starts gaslighting you. Typical Amir. “There you go overreacting and shit.”

“No, I’m not. You’re trying to question my parenting when you don’t know shit about shit.”

He sucks his teeth, rolling his eyes. This was why people used to say you had a temper in high school. Because of him. Because he loved to tell people what you said but never what he did. Always tried to make you feel crazy. Truth be told, you’re stupid for even opening that door with him again, even if it’s just for sex.

“Whatever, Y/N.” He turns to walk back over to his car. You really wish his damn sister would change her work schedule so she can pick up her son instead of this asshole. You’ll catch a case fucking with his dumbass. “I’ll wait for your text.”

He’ll be waiting. “Fuck you, Amir.”

You should be more mindful of your language at a damn preschool, but Amir has managed to get under your skin, something that hasn’t happened since you were in college. You know a good part of it is because you’re sleep deprived, but you also know it’s partially because of his dig at Joe.

You understand the optics seem to indicate that he’s a deadbeat, but you’ve expressed to Amir countless times that it was a complicated situation. He didn’t know the specifics, but you made it clear Joe didn’t abandon you or Callie. That’s just the narrative Amir keeps running with, and now with Joe being back in your life and especially in Callie’s life, you’re not gonna let it continue.

“Mommy!” Your head snaps to see and feel Callie run up to and hug her body against your leg. “Boo!”

Shit. Did she hear any of that? You hope not and paste on a smile that’s hopefully authentic enough to sell that everything is fine. “Callie Bear.” You lean down and pick her up, kissing her cheek. “Did you have a good day?”

She nods and starts explaining the activities while you buckle her into her carseat, trying your best to calm down and not give away your high stress levels in that moment. Callie is super perceptive, and you don’t want to ruin the obviously great day she’s had.

And sure enough, as you’re putting on your seatbelt and starting up the car, the golden question is shouted with pre-excitement.

“Can I call Joe when I get home?”

Smiling at her through the rearview mirror, you answer, “yes, you can.”

In the almost two weeks that have passed since Joe’s departure, not one day has passed that Callie doesn’t asks to call Joe or just outright helps yourself to her iPad to call him. Sometimes several times a day during the weekends. And she’ll talk to him for as long as she can, as long as he’s able to hold a conversation with her. You’ll give it to him, he’s done an exceptional job handling all of it. On some level, you wonder if you should set some restrictions or time parameters, but how do you limit how much a daughter interacts with her father?

Callie rejoices at your approval and requests for you to put on the Disney playlist you made specifically for her on Spotify.

The drive, no more than 10 minutes, consists of the two of you singing along to a few Disney tunes. It’s a bit of a tradition between you, a way to bond via your shared love of Disney. A love that ties not only you to her but to the women before you. Your mom and grandma.

Arriving to your apartment complex, you decide to leave your work bag in the car. It’s Thanksgiving break. You most likely won’t do any work until the day or two before having to return.

You do carry Callie on your hip and swing her bag around your shoulder, walking the two of you up to the second floor. Sometimes, you regret not accepting the apartment they had available on the first floor. The older you get, the less your joints like to cooperate, your almost 15 years of cheer probably taking a toll on your body.

And just age in general.

But your regret quickly turns to a level of gratitude when you reach your door.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

Dropping Callie to the floor, she’s of the complete opposite reaction, gasping and smiling broadly.

“Look mommy, more boxes!”

The smile is strained but you manage to maintain it, sticking the key in the door, unlocking and pushing it open.

She walks in, and you place her bag on the floor near the door, one foot keeping it open. “What do you think it is?” She asks as you pick them up and bring them inside, kicking the door closed behind you.

You know exactly what it is. What it all is.

Gifts.

From Joe.

In his absence, you’ve had several deliveries waiting outside your door when you got home from work and picking Callie up. And all of them were for Callie, gifts of variable nature but all of them things she loves. Disney, stuffed animals, dolls. Essentially anything that could make a 4 year old feel like she’s won the lottery.

She’s literally bouncing on her toes, already with her kids scissors in her hands.

When the hell did she grab those?

“Can I open them, please? Please?”

A part of you wants to say no, save them for christmas gifts, though you’re almost entirely certain he’ll have another set of gifts for her then. And it seems almost cruel to make her wait over a month when she knows there are presents waiting for her.

“Sure, but….” You scamper into the kitchen and grab your adult size scissors, returning and showing her. “Let mommy cut them, and then you open them.”

You don’t need this child accidentally cutting herself. Again, medical bills are not in the budget, especially around the holidays. Money’s already tight to some extent.

Not that….not that it’d be much of an issue with Callie. You’d never fix your moth to ask Joe for anything, especially not financially, but if it was something involving your daughter, you’re pretty sure your tune would change. It would still bother you to ask for help, but you know he’d have zero qualms helping you out.

He’d probably pay for it in its entirety.

Your proposition pleases her. “Okay!” She places her scissors on the nearest flat surface and sits down, legs crossed, bouncing impatiently.

Chuckling, you glide your scissors across, careful not to open anything. You want to save that moment for her and your plan.

Once done, you place the scissors on the kitchen island and reach for your phone. “Wait before you open, baby.”

Immediately, she frowns and scowls, “whyyyyyy.”

Rolling your eyes, you sit on the floor too to be at her eye level and open Snapchat. “Okay, now.”

You hit record and watch intermittently through and outside of the screen as she opens the boxes, smile permanent and excitement palpable. She especially gets excited when she pulls out a freaking box of the new Little Mermaid and all of her sisters. More….dolls.

“Look, mommy!!!” She then grabs a doll who has a surprisingly similar complexion and curl pattern to hers, holding it against her face. “She looks like me!”

“She does,” you agree, realizing it’s a customized American Girl doll. Damn. Those things can run up to $200. You weren’t stupid, knowing Joe’s probably spent more money on Callie alone in two weeks than you’ve spent all year, but just how much has he spent?

It’s when she opens the final box, surrounded by nothing but toys and packaging that you’re already dreading having to stuff all this in your trash bin, “what do you say, baby?”

Callie hugs the American Doll close to her chest and directs to the camera, “thank you, Joe!” She gasps and adds on, “I miss you, but mommy said I can call you tonight!”

You hold back your giggle and agree, adding, “after she helps mommy clean up all this.”

Her smile drops, pout returning, “I hate cleaning.”

Snickering, you mutter, “you and me too, sis.”

You end the video, save it and enter Joe’s chat to attach the video, adding a message.

You: You’re spoiling her, Joe. 😫 This is the third delivery this week alone.

You’re able to clean up some of the packaging and throw it away before your phone chimes with his response. Callie has grabbed the amount you expected her to grab and discard. Her attention span is trash at the moment. She’s a child surrounded by toys. It’s expected.

Joe: She's my little girl. Of course, I’m gonna spoil her.

Joe: There should be another one by the weekend. If not, let me know.

You sigh aloud, this man is gonna have your place looking like freaking KB Toys.

You: Omg

You: ….You know I live in an APARTMENT, right? Just where the hell am I supposed to put all of this stuff?

It’s sweet he’s so keen on gifting her these things, but he also has to realize you’re not living in a mansion in Malibu. And despite having a child who leaves messes wherever she goes, you do your best to keep your place tidy.

If you didn’t know Joe, didn’t see how easily he connected with Callie, you’d maybe accuse him of trying to “buy” her love. But, you know that’s not the case, know that he clearly just wants to make her happy. You just hope he knows that he does that all by himself, no gifts needed.

Joe: She has a whole playroom.

You: Yes. Playroom, not Toys-R-Us.

Joe: 🤷🏽‍♂️

You: 🙄 You’re aggravating.

He doesn’t say anything after that, so you decide to finish cleaning because at some point your child wandered off, most likely to her playroom to add all her new stuff with her slightly new stuff. Taking advantage of the alone time, you also decide to text your mom to figure out thanksgiving plans. Specifically, what drink, dessert, and/or condiments she wants you to bring because you damn well know she won’t ask you to cook.

She still hasn’t forgiven you for that accidental fire that one year.

And it’s when you’re sitting on the sofa, also starting to think about black friday plans that your mind wanders, your anxiety grows out of nowhere.

You’ve taken the approach to not have any say in Joe’s relationship with Callie, to intervene only when absolutely necessary. And as that hasn’t hasn’t occurred, you’ve not done so. You let him and her do their thing. But a small part of you wonders if you should put some parameters around Callie. She calls him several times a day, Joe, who spends more time on the road than there are days in the year.

You know he wants to establish a relationship with her, but that can be done with boundaries. Anxiety getting the best of you, you grab your phone and shoot him a text.

You: Is it okay if she calls you today? I know it’s been a lot, and if too much, just let me know. I’ll talk to her.

His reply comes almost immediately this time around.

Joe: She can call me 100 times. I don’t care. I wanna talk to her.

And instantly, the anxiety is almost non-existent. Deep down, you know this is what he wants. He wants to have interaction with her, and incessant Facetime calls are the only option with his crazy schedule, so it’s what he takes. It’s what he wants.

Pleased and no longer stressing over an issue that was never an issue, you lock your phone and place it back at your side. A quick glance at the clock reminds you that it’s almost time for Callie’s bath.

A couple minutes later, your phone dings with a text notification. From Joe.

You open it right away.

Joe: This weekend. Don’t tell her. I wanna surprise her.

You have to read it a couple of times before it registers. He’s coming back in town. This weekend. As in less than two days. You’re excited at this, happy as well. For Callie. But also, for yourself. Why? You haven’t a clue, well, maybe there’s a slight clue, but you don’t want to acknowledge that right now.

You simply want to focus on the fact that you’re happy your daughter will be happy her dad is town.

Who cares that you will be too.

________

Joe’s just walked out the bathroom, having showered and almost entirely prepped for bed when his phone rings.

Moving over to the hotel nightstand, he’s surprised when he sees Callie’s smiling face filling his screen. A glance at the clock in the corner of his phone reads 11:06, which means it’s 9:06 her time. Well past her bedtime. What is she doing up?

Curious, and regardless, he answers the phone. It takes a second for the connection to finalize when it does, he’s instantly smiling, mostly because it’s Callie but also because of her setup.

It’s obvious she’s under a blanket, a flashlight in the corner illuminating the space, a stuffed animal in her lap.

She’s the first to speak, her voice both loud and hushed in a way only she can do. “hi!”

“Hi, sweetheart.” He can’t help but ask almost immediately, “what are you doing up?” As he told you, he’d talk to her 24/7 if he could. And even though this call is unexpected and appreciated, she’s also a 4-year-old kid who needs her sleep.

Her little shoulders lift in a shrug. “I can’t sleep.”

Nodding, he follows up with, “where’s mommy?”

“Sleeping,” she answers with a level of disappointment. “I don’t wanna wake her up. She had a bad day.”

“Really?” Joe moves around so he’s laying on the bed, on his side, phone propped on the nightstand. “How do you know?”

“Cause–cause she was yelling at Mr. Amir, and–and he was yelling at her too.”

Joe hasn’t a clue why, but that instantly upsets him. Who the fuck is this Amir person, and who the hell does he think he is to raise his voice at you? Around Callie of all people.

“Who is Mr. Amir?” Joe hates asking her all of these questions, but it’s also hard not to.

“The basketball coach at the school for big kids.” She’s caressing the fur of the stuffed animal in her lap. “Aunt Mariah said he was mommy’s boyfriend when she was a big kid.”

“Really.” It’s not really a question as much as it is a general statement. Joe doesn’t know why he’s suddenly annoyed, not with Callie, but the entire situation. And definitely this Amir person even more now. He’s an ex. He dated you. It shouldn’t make him feel any type of way, but it does, and he hates that shit.

He hates a man he’s never even met.

“I don’t like Mr. Amir,” Callie suddenly announces with a scowl. Same, kid. Same. Joe looks at her, seeing so much of you in her right now. He knows you’ve mentioned how you see a lot of him in Callie, but when she’s glowering like this, she’s 100% her mama’s daughter. “He made mommy mad today.”

“Has he ever been mean to you?” Joe has to ask, because he’s also realizing a part of him is upset at the thought of Callie being around men. You’re a grown woman and allowed to do what you want, but bringing men around Callie….that’s an absolute fucking no.

He doesn’t give a damn if he’s only been in her life for two weeks or two minutes. She’s his daughter, and outside of himself and family, who you date should be kept far away from his daughter.

Joe mentally prepares to have this conversation—potential argument—with you.

“No,” she answers, slightly calmer. “He doesn’t like Disney.” She says it like it’s a sin, like it’s almost inconceivable for anyone to not like Disney.

Playing along with this, Joe gasps, grateful for the distraction that is Callie’s intricacies. “He sucks.”

“Yeah, he sucks,” she agrees, nodding. Joe has to keep his smile to himself. “Do you say bad words?”

The randomness and topic change take him by surprise, but he’s learning that you weren’t exaggerating when you said Callie was filled with incessant, unrelated questions. “Sometimes.”

“Mommy does too,” she reveals. “Grandma says Jesus doesn’t want us to say bad words, but I heard grandma call Ms. Beverly from church a bitch.”

At that, Joe can’t help his laughter. Her delivery, the punctuation she puts on the word ‘bitch’, to how she seems to not even process that she’s just said a bad word. It’s hilarious. “Well, sometimes grown ups say things we shouldn’t, and you just make sure you’re not saying things you shouldn’t.”

“Okay,” she agrees, almost sheepishly. And then, a yawn. “I’m sleepy.”

Joe knew she was from the moment she called, but he had a feeling she just needed to get the whole Amir thing off her chest. She doesn’t seem like the child who likes to or even can hold things in, which is preferable. “You should try to go to sleep then, sweetheart.”

She wipes at her eyes, expression suddenly saddened. “When are you coming back? You’ve been gone a really long time.”

He’s torn in this moment, wanting to tell her that he’ll be there this weekend but also not wanting to get her hopes up in case something comes up. There’s few things that could come up to keep him from going to see her, wrestling be damned, but still. Life has a way of lifing. So, he goes with the safe yet disappointing answer.

“Soon, I promise.” She’s clearly indifferent to this answer and doesn’t say anything, instead shifts on her bed, moving to lay down. “You should really try to sleep, Callie.”

Eyes starting to blink, clearly her exhaustion catching up with her, she asks, softly, “will you stay with me till I fall asleep?”

Her request tugs at his heartstrings. “Of course, sweetie.”

Seemingly pleased by this answer, she closes her eyes, and he watches. He stares at this tiny human whose existence he only learned about not even a month ago yet would do anything to make happy. Joe thinks about Callie constantly, finds himself smiling at the thought of some of the Snapchat videos you’d send him of her in all of her randomness. She was so entertaining, so full of life, a genuinely happy kid. His kid.

And it’s why he’s going to find out more about this Amir guy and why Amir is having any type of interaction with his daughter.

________

Joe: You should know she called me last night.

You’re in the middle of perusing early Black Friday deals, needing to budget for that now and taking full advantage of Callie being down for a nap. However, you frown, reading his message, not understanding why he’s stating the obvious. You were there when she asked for the iPad and when she returned it after the call was finished.

You: I’m aware….

Joe: No. After that.

Your eyebrows arch together, confused.

You: What? when?

Joe: It was 11 my time, so 9 yours.

You gasp, typing away, wondering how the hell she snuck in your room and managed a whole ass Facetime call without you hearing shit. Were you really that damn exhausted?

You: What the hell was she doing up at 9? What did she say? No wonder she was crabby this morning.

Joe: She said she couldn’t sleep.

You: A bad dream?

Joe: Naw, said you got into an argument with someone named Amir earlier that day and didn’t want to bother you….I think it was bothering her.

Your stomach twists at that. You had a feeling she’d overheard the incident with Amir, but you prayed that you were wrong. Clearly, you weren’t.

Joe: Who is Amir?

You pause at Joe’s question. Why is he asking this? What business of his is Amir? Irritation washes over you, but is waned by realizing he’s probably asking because of Callie. As her father, he has a right to know if you’re with someone, because for all he knows that someone could be around his daughter.

You really are trying with this co-parenting thing.

You: A lot of things. A pain in the ass being the most recent one.

You: We dated in high school and college on and off. He’s the basketball coach at our local high school.

It’s more information than probably what’s necessary, but there’s this small, conflicting part of you that wants him to know you have no ties to Amir. That there are no feelings there and haven’t been for literal years.

That you’re not with Amir.

Joe: Are you dating him again? Why were you arguing around Callie?

The interrogating is getting old, but you’re trying to play nice. Coparent peacefully. His delivery is off, but he has valid questions.

Sorta.

You: No. We just….we fuck around from time to time. He tries to make it more than what it is. Was about that.

You: I was waiting for her to be released from pre-school, and he picks up his nephew for his sister. It just happened, and I didn’t know/mean for her to hear.

Honestly, you’re more worried and concerned about Callie and how to approach this with her without making her feel like she was in trouble. Yes, she knows damn well she shouldn’t be on the iPad that late at night, but can you really be mad at her for talking to her dad about something that upset her?

Joe: You bring him around her?

You absolutely can be mad though at her dad who’s about to make you cuss him out next too. All of the questions are becoming too much. He gets to be concerned, but he doesn’t get to micromanage and invade.

Feeling petty and recalcitrant, you type out a reply that you should probably think twice before sending.

But fuck it.

You: No. I only ride his dick at his place. 🙂

There’s a small ounce of regret for being so crude, but not a whole lot. He knows how you are, or he should, at least.

To some extent.

But your phone rings again, and you find yourself staring mouth agape at his reply.

Joe: You may ride his dick, but you had my kid. Clearly, only one of us knows how to please you.

Your face is burning hot, and you hate how you shift in your seat. Why the fuck would he say that? You want to say it’s inappropriate, but you also opened this door.

Is he entirely wrong?

Slapping away that wild ass thought, you focus on the real conversation at hand here. It takes a couple of rewrites before you ultimately decide to change the subject.

You: I’ve never bought any man around her and never will that’s not you, if that’s what you’re asking.

You’re grateful to see he’s also agreeing to change the subject.

Joe: It is. Thank you.

Rolling your eyes, you send a text back, getting back to being annoyed at his 21 Questions. This is a two-way street, and since he’s opened this door, why not?

You: You know that goes both ways though. I don’t want her around any bitches.

Joe: Seriously?

Joe: There’s no one for me to bring her around.

You…..you don’t know how to feel about that, don’t know how to feel about the bit of relief you feel at this message. Why should you feel relieved? Even if there was, that’s his business, and he’s allowed to….do whatever it is that he does.

It reminds you and brings you to your next topic.

You: What about your wife? We need to figure that out as well. She’s eventually going to need to know about Calista and will probably be around her at some point. I get she’s your wife, but I’m Callie’s mother, I need to be there whenever you wanna introduce Callie. I need to be involved in that process as well.

He doesn’t reply.

________

Joe doesn’t really get mad.

Not often at least and definitely not outwardly.

It’s always been his thing to never let anyone have access to that “button” that triggers his anger, and for the most part, it works well.

Except for when it comes to you.

You’ve always been able to trigger many things for him, anger being one of them.

He knows he should have spoken to you in person about the situation, or even over the phone. But with the craziness of his schedule and differing time zones, he just decided to message you, and while it didn’t go horribly, it didn’t go great. He knows you’re annoyed with him.

Hence your crudity.

Joe also refuses to admit that the thought of you fucking this kid pisses him the fuck off, even though you’re not together, even though he has no right to be upset.

But goddamn that doesn’t make him any less upset or annoyed at the thought of someone else touching you.

“Uce?” Jon asks, standing at the door before inventing himself in Joe’s locker room for this week’s Smackdown. “You ready to talk man?”

At that, Joe looks confused. “Talk about what?”

“Whatever it is that got you all worked up.” The twins have always been very perceptive, even back when they were all kids. Joe might be good at hiding his frustration from others but not them. The difference between Jon and Josh though has always been Josh has the wherewithal to not say anything.

Jon hasn’t caught on to that just yet.

“I’m fine,” Joe dismisses, hoping it’s enough to dead the conversation, even though he knows better.

“Lie detector determined that was a goddamn lie.” Jon can be pushy, but he means well, and truthfully, Joe doesn’t have a strong desire to outright shut down this conversation. A different perspective is always beneficial.

Usually.

So, he explains it all, starting with his call with Callie and ending with the text exchange between him and you.

“I see,” Jon nods, clearly absorbing all of this information. Finally, he concludes, “so you’re jealous.”

That’s the first thing to evoke a genuine laugh out of Joe since his exchange with Y/N. “I’m not jealous.”

“And I’m not a twin,” Jon dismisses. “Look, Uce, it’s obvious you still got feelings for ole girl. You ask me, I don’t think you ever got over her—”

“I didn’t ask you.”

“--Now you sitting up here annoyed cause she fucking Coach Carter nephew instead of doing something about it.” Joe rolls his eyes. “I mean have you even told her about you and J—”

“No,” he interrupts, swiftly. “Not yet, at least.”

Nodding, Jon speaks again after a minute of silence. “All I’m saying is ya’ll got the history, got the connection, got the kid too! Don’t see why you need to be letting Jesus Shuttlesworth steal your girl.”

At that, Joe chuckles. One thing his cousins will always be good for, especially Jon, is comedic relief. Even some sound advice from time to time.

“Thanks.”

Joe is, surprisingly, thankful for the equally surprising advice from his cousin. He’s not entirely sure if he’s really jealous or just overreacting for a reason he hasn’t quite uncovered, but he is starting to lean more on the side of he does still have some level of feelings for Y/N.

It’s not a complete shock. He had a feeling when he reacted so strongly to just seeing your picture. It was the whole Callie situation and finding out how you kept her from him that made his vision murky.

But, as his relationship with her strengthens, the clearer he can see.

The clearer his feelings are becoming. Now. it’s just a matter of figuring out what to do with said feelings.

And find out where you stand as well.

Joe remains quiet, thinking more and more how this might end up being an eventful trip.

#roman reigns x black!reader #roman reigns x black!oc #roman reigns #roman reigns fic #black writers #arisnotebook

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mangekyuou · 5 months

Note

Hi. If you're comfortable with writing this ( if not, please feel free to ignore, no pressure on you, I really really appreciate your hardwork & I love your writing thank you so much for all of this amazing fanfics you keep bringing!! 💗💗💗💗 ), may i request some angst where Zoro & gn!reader gets into a heated argument with each other which leads to reader wanting to break up with him?

★ WHAT ONCE WAS! roronoa zoro ★

── pairing. zoro x gn!reader.

── summary. change was something you feared. but it had happened before your very eyes as you watched your long-term boyfriend train to take on unknown dangers out on the sea. you can’t even recognize him anymore.

── cw(s). angst. gn!reader. no pronouns used. shitty summary. reader says something kinda mean. zoro being kind of a jerk. takes place pre-timeskip before zoro leaves the shimotsuki village. mentions of kuina.

── wc. 1.2k.

── notepad. i actually been so long since i’ve written something angsty that just stayed angsty. it hurt my soul just enough. so thank you so much for this !! i know the rq says that the reader wants to break up, but this one is kind of a mutual break up

things just kind of happen, don’t they? everything feels fine one moment, but the next moment not so much. people change all the time, even when you don’t want them to. maybe, you were afraid of change. maybe, you were just afraid of him changing.

he didn’t hold you anymore. when the sun had fallen to rest, and the moon had taken its place to shine silvery blue in the cool night sky. not once had his arms draped over your body like they used to. he hadn’t even faced you, as he drifted into the world of dreams. most nights, he did not even come to bed.

instead of lying beside you until sunrise, he found himself striking a dummy a hundred times with the same attacks to perfect them. instead of breathing in your cozy scent, he had pushed his mortal body way beyond its limits.

he didn’t kiss you like he did before, full of passion and love. his strong hands cradled your face as he kissed like every time would be the last one. instead, he had settled for quick pecks to the side of your temple, as he muttered “love you” against your warm skin. hardly even a moment later, he would be out the door. he didn’t even give you a chance to say it back. he never even said ‘i love you’ anymore.

maybe it was a minor thing to gripe about for some people, for it to be those special three words instead of the two. but it meant a lot to you, and he knew that. or at least you thought your boyfriend of several years would have known that.

you made up excuses, anything to keep you from believing that the man you loved more than anything was changing before your very eyes more and more every day. you found yourself thinking questions you never wanted to think about.

does he care anymore? was he no longer attracted to you? did he even love you anymore? had he ever even loved you?

it filled you with so much dread, to the point it was overwhelming. it was getting harder and harder to keep how you were feeling behind the closed door of your, well once shared bedroom.

you couldn’t keep going on like this. going on like everything was fine when it wasn’t. pretending to be fine, as you watched your neglectful boyfriend exert himself to near injury in the name of becoming the world’s greatest swordsman.

now he was talking about leaving the village to challenge dracule mihawk to a duel? you loved him dearly, but you heard one too many stories about “hawk-eyes”, none of them were good. allowing your boyfriend to even set foot off this island was sending him to an early grave.

you believed in him, sure. one day he would be the greatest swordsman. but for once, you just wanted him to be realistic and realize that that day will not be tomorrow, it won’t be next week, it won’t be next month.

why doesn’t he understand you feel this way because you care about him?

“zoro…” you say gently, standing at the door frame of the dojo.

the swordsman was still swinging away at the wooden dummy that was a few swings away from falling apart. of course, he didn’t hear you the first time. he never did.

“zoro” your voice was much louder this time, finally grabbing his attention. “huh?” was all he even said before he went back to swinging at the dummy. he didn’t even spare you a glance.

“can we talk, please? it’s important.”

“just say what you’re going to say, ( y/n )”

“WILL YOU PUT DOWN THOSE LOUSY SWORDS AND LOOK AT ME!”

you didn’t mean that. you knew just how much his swords meant to him, especially the one dawning a pure white hilt. you knew what his dream meant to him. you were just angry. frustrated. tired.

you watched as he sheathed the swords, and did as you said. his expression was stone cold. it was like looking at a whole new man. never had he ever looked at you like that. you knew what you said hurt his feelings.

“if you’re still trying to talk me out of leaving, forget it. if i don’t do it now then…”

“THEN WHAT?! you’ve never been out of the east blue! and you’ll be a DEAD MAN if you challenge a shichibukai!” you couldn’t stop yourself from yelling. “you don’t know what lies ahead of you in the other seas, zoro! i’m just trying to help you!”

“i never ASKED for your help!” he retorted, clenching his fist around the hilt of one of his swords. he continued, “i never WANTED your help! i never NEEDED your help!”

a silence filled the room, as your face dropped and your heart sank into the dark void of your body. you opened your mouth to speak, but you couldn’t even form the words you wanted to. you weren’t even exactly sure what those words were.

“if i don’t do this now…then i may never have a chance to do it again. i have to do this, I thought you understood that.” his voice was full of disappointment, as he turned his back to you, as if you had meant nothing, as if this has all meant NOTHING.

you balled your fists, “i do understand that! but i also understand that there are battles that we are not prepared for just yet! kuina meant a lot to you, zoro. her dream has become yours, and you want nothing more than to achieve that for her. but you are not ready. letting you go would be suicide! kuina would not want that!”

“YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT SHE WOULD HAVE WANTED! YOU DIDN’T EVEN KNOW HER!” he snapped at you.

“YOU’RE RIGHT! I DIDN’T! BUT I KNEW SHE WOULDN’T WANT HER FRIEND DEAD! AND I’M NOT GOING TO SIT BACK AND LET THAT HAPPEN TO YOU!”

“then don’t. leave.”

“…what?”

just like that, you felt everything crash around you. leave? what did he mean 'leave'? leave and go where? how could you leave when this was all you knew? HE was all you knew. you were each other’s firsts. how….could you just leave?

how could he throw everything away? everything you were willing to stay and fix.

“leave! you don’t want to be here then go. nobody’s stopping you.”

he made it clear.

it couldn’t be any clearer than that.

with shaking hands, you slowly turned on your heel, putting one foot in front of the other, walking out of the dojo, walking away from your first love, walking away from the man you thought you would spend the rest of your life with.

you had hoped, he would have stopped you. that he would drop his swords and chase after you, pull you into a hug, and apologize for what he said. you had hoped you just start over, like none of this ever happened. that he would see that you meant well, that you just wanted to keep him safe, that he would stay here with you.

but that didn’t happen. tears flooded your cheeks, as you continued to walk home without him.

it was over, wasn’t it?

#☆ — MY LOVE MINE ALL MINE.#one piece #one piece x reader #roronoa zoro #zoro roronoa #zoro #zoro roronoa x reader #roronoa zoro x reader #zoro x reader #zoro oneshots #zoro scenarios #zoro imagines #zoro headcanons #zoro angst #one piece oneshots #one piece scenarios #one piece imagines #one piece headcanons #one piece angst

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damiansgoodgirll · 11 months

Text

kylian mbappè x reader

tw: angst, a little bit of postpartum depression

5 years (part two)

giving birth to your baby without having kylian in the room with you was the hardest part. you always imagined having the love of your life by your side, comforting you and encouraging you. the person that was supposed to be your everything.

you knew that after all he was the father of your child but a little part of you knew that he didn’t deserve it. so you did without him. you had all the support you needed but not his.

and it was okay. you were still healing.

but the worst part was being a single mom. taking care of a newborn all alone and having no experience was hard, it was killing you. of course kylian saw the baby, but with football and away matches he couldn’t take care of your kid 24 hours the way you were doing.

the restless nights.

your kid crying from day to night and from night to day.

your whole body was in pain.

your feet so swollen you only wore slippers.

and your breast, it was killing you. it was always so full and swollen to the point the pain because too much and you couldn’t do nothing to prevent it.

kylian apologised so many times you’ve lost count. he prayed, no, he begged for you to take him back. and even tho you missed him, you couldn’t forgive what he did.

like - how can someone forgive cheating? you couldn’t find a straight answer to that. even if it’s been four months now, you couldn’t find the strength to forgive and forget something like that. i

while you were lost in your thoughts you heard a faint knock on the door. you knew it was him. it was kylian’s day off and of course he wanted to spend it with your baby. you came to an agreement that you would do co-parenting. your lawyer proposed it and you couldn’t say no, it was kylian’s child too after all.

you opened the door and let him. your child was currently sleeping so you didn’t want to wake them up yet and kylian noticed that too because he stopped you before you could go to their bedroom.

“one second y/n…” he said and you turned to look at him “can we - can we talk for a second?”

“is it really necessary?” you asked. it wasn’t like you were on great terms, nope. you still hated to see his face but you were doing everything in your power to give a good life to your baby, including having two parents who didn’t fight every single day. you didn’t want this toxicity in your family.

“yes please…i promise you, i’ll be quick i just - i just need to talk to you, at least for a minute, without having your lawyers or the kid crying in the background…” he said.

you nodded and let him sit on the couch while you sat on your armchair.

“are you okay?” he asked you.

“yes why?”

“y/n, please don’t lie…i know you and i know that look, you’re not okay, you’re far from okay” he said and you couldn’t believe your ears.

“what? i’m okay kylian, what is that supposed to mean?” you grew difensive.

“i’m not trying to attack you or make you angry, i just wanna know if you’re okay, i know doing this alone it’s hard and i want you to know that i’m here if you need me…you look tired, even a blind person would be able to see it…” he began to talk but you stopped him.

“i’m okay kylian, stop it…”

“but i know you’re not! i know you…i know the baby is tiring you and-…”

“yes, the baby is tiring me out like hell, okay? are you happy with this?” you whispered-screamed.

“then why don’t you let me help you? please…”

“i don’t want or need your help kylian!” you grew tired of this and couldn’t wait to have kylian out of your apartment.

“but the baby needs you and you can’t take care of them if you’re not taking care of yourself…” he said, probably rephrasing bad what he wanted to say.

“i can’t take care of my child?” you stood up “kylian, you have no fucking idea what i’ve been sacrificing these past months. my mental health is gone, i don’t know if what i’m doing is wrong or right and i’m doing this all alone! the least you do is staying with the baby a few hours a week because your too busy with football and your career so don’t you ever tell me again how parenting works okay?” you needed to let it all out and kylian was there to listen to you “i fucking hate the moments you took the baby away from me because i feel so alone but at the same time i love it because the whole house is calm and peaceful…and the house - the house is always a mess, i’m trying my best, i’m fucking trying but it’s hard…” you sobbed a little.

“let it all out…” he said wrapping his arms around you. you needed a hug so bad that for a moment you forgot that you were mad at him.

“i hate the way my body changed…i see myself in the mirror and i can’t recognise that person, it’s a whole new me and i hate her! everything hurts, my body, my breast, hell even my feet! i need to sleep more that three hours a night but i can’t…i just, i’m not okay but i’m pretending i am because someone needs to stay strong for our baby…” you said wiping your tears.

kylian gave you a sad smile. he wanted to keep holding you but you immediately moved away. he wanted to be the one who wiped your tears away but you wouldn’t let him touch you.

“listen to me y/n…you’re a great mom, you’re a beautiful person, in and out…you just need a little rest…you’re just human after all” he said and you gave a sarcastic smile “i have a four days break from practice and football, no matches , no training, no interviews, nothing at all. our baby could stay with me for these days so you could rest…you need to rest…you’ve been tiring yourself out for too much now…and you need a well deserved rest” he proposed.

at first you wanted to say no. staying away from your baby for four days? absolutely no!

but you needed it. you needed to rest, sleep for more than 3 hours.

so you ended up saying yes.

you packed all the things kylian would be needing for these days and you already knew it was going downhill even before starting. but you prayed that he would call his mom if he needed help and not a baby sitter. your baby didn’t need a babysitter, your baby needed to bond with his father.

so you gave him the bag, the baby in his stroller, a hand piece of paper with all the things kylian needed to know and waved them goodbye.

you’ve spent the first day in bed. literally. you ordered take out and ate in bed.

the second day you focused a little more on the house, it needed cleaning but you took things calmer. and in the afternoon you had time for yourself so you booked yourself a hair appointment and you fixed the shit you had in head.

the third day was a real blessing. in the morning you went out for groceries, in the afternoon you went out for shopping. you stopped at his cute book store near your house and once inside you accidentally bumped into someone. you apologised so many times that the man in front of you had to stop you.

you’ve began to talk, finding out you have more in common than what you expected. you felt an immediate connection with him and he felt it too.

the same night you had dinner together, it wasn’t a date, more like two people that wanted to get to know each others better.

“i liked this night…” you said when he walked you back home.

“it doesn’t have to be the last one though…” he smiled at you and for the first time in months you let out a genuine laugh.

“no it doesn’t…”

“well, goodnight madame…i really had a great time with you” he said smiling at you and gently kissing your cheek.

you texted all night and on day four you invited him over for lunch.

you really had a great time together. you thought he was going to dump you the moment you told him about you having a child and being a single mom at this young age but he stayed anyway. he listened to you. and for the first time in a very long time you felt attracted to someone who wasn’t kylian.

bonus was that he wasn’t a football fan so you wouldn’t have to worry.

you’ve spent the fourth day together, learning more about one another.

and as days, even months passed you grew more and more fond of each other to the point you started dating.

kylian hated it. he hated seeing you with another man. he hated seeing you happy with someone who wasn’t him. but he knew he lost you many months ago and he couldn’t do anything to have you back.

this was like your little and sweet revenge.

after being in pain and sad, crying almost every night you found a way out, a light, an opportunity that you had to take, and thank goodness, you did.

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