#for a few different reasons i took a break from this blog and from the tumblr fandom | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hyuuukais · 3 months

Note

Hiii!! I saw ur requests were open but if this makes u uncomfy for any reason no worries. I was skating home from work today and kinda got scraped up pretty bad so I was wondering if you'd write a Skz reaction to reader getting hurt by skating(I was skateboarding but if you want separate scenarios you can use roller skates or ice skates too I think that would be cool) and maybe nursing reader back to health idk just something fluffy? I was kinda discouraged from skating after I got all scraped up today :/

Ps. I love ur blog and I hope you have a great day/night 🩷

-🔮(if u have emoji anons I'd like to be this one)

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ SKZ SCENARIOS ⋆｡˚✴︎⋆

pairing : ot8 x reader

notes : hi !! i didn't know if you wanted texts or written, so i did a mix, i hope that's alright with you! and i actually don't have any emoji anons rn, you'd be my first, which is so exciting!! and i love love love the one you chose. i took your advice and did a variety of different types of skates :) oh! and this doesn't make me uncomfortable, little injuries/sick fics like this is okay :33

warnings : injuries (scraped knees/hands/face/arms, sprained wrist/ankle/concussion), blood mention, nausea, mentions of passing out/blacking out, reader called pet names (baby, honey, love), food mention

CHAN (wc: 561)

There's a knock on your door exactly eleven minutes later, and you trudge across your living room to open it. Chans face is etched with concern, his eyebrows furrowing deeper as he takes in the light bruising starting to appear on your cheekbone, a few red scratches from the tough asphalt accentuating the purple.

Without a word, he enters your living space and sets a small bag down on the coffee table. Chan takes some things out, then gestures you to move down the hallway to your bathroom. Suppressing a groan, you do as he says, trying not to wince every time you step. Another, much worse scrape paints your knee, stinging with every movement. By the time you're sitting on the edge of the tub, your eyes have watered in pain.

Chan kneels in front of you, looking up to into your watery eyes, but you avoid his gaze. With a soft sigh, he takes the bottle of peroxide and dampens a cloth, gently pressing it down on your bloody knee. You hiss at the contact, squeezing your eyes shut hard as he continues to pat the wound and surrounding flesh. It hurts so bad, and you swear you can feel your knee throbbing. What feels like hours is mere minutes, Chan taking the cloth away from your skin to reach for a nearby bandage. He takes care in wrapping the wound, placing a small kiss on the top of your knee once he's done.

"Now, let me see that pretty face of yours." Chan joins you on the edge of the rub, bringing a hand up to gently turn your face to his. "Doesn't look as bad as I thought, but it still needs to be cleaned... you're doing so good for me, baby."

He smiles at you, wiping a stray tear that's managed to escape from the corner of your eye. Your jaw clenches as he brings the cloth, freshly dampened in peroxide, to your skin again, patting in the same motion he did your knee. The sting isn't as bad, the cuts smaller and quicker to clean. As soon as Chan is done placing the smaller bandage on your cheekbone, he places a kiss over it. His palm comes to rest on your lower cheek and jaw, resting your foreheads together. Naturally, your eyes flutter shut as you relax under his touch, the pain and embarrassment forgotten almost completely in his presence.

"I love you," You whisper, sighing contently.

"I love you too," Chan smiles, backing his face away from yours. "How about you change into some comfy clothes and we put on that show you've been on about? Sound good?"

A smile breaks out on your face at the mention of the show, nodding excitedly at his suggestion. "We'll have to start at the beginning! I've been dying to show it to you."

He laughs, his eyes almost shutting from how wide his smile has gotten watching you grab his hand and lead him out of the bathroom. You're still talking as you change, but Chan just leans back on the bed listening, not daring to interrupt. He loves it when you're like this, gushing about your interests to your hearts content. It seems like a flip has switched from your dim mood, and Chan is glad he could do something to make you feel better.

MINHO (wc: 526)

And he does, he marches right to you despite the protests of the coaches spread on the chilled ground, one of which is making their way toward you. Slipping and sliding all the way to you, Minho makes it to your side first and tries to assess the situation.

"What happened?" Minho demands, placing a hand on your shoulder.

You've managed to sit up on your butt, feeling the cold ground seeping through your bottoms as you curl into yourself. Keeping your wrist close to your chest, you take deep breaths, in through the nose, out through the mouth. Staying calm is the only way you'll get through the throbbing pain in your wrist.

The coach stops just short of you, kneeling on the opposite side of Minho. "Y/n! Are you alright? That was a really bad fall."

All you can do is shake your head, eyes unmoving from the spot between your knees. With the nausea you're feeling, the only thing keeping you from jumping to the conclusion you've broken a bone is the fact you never heard a crack.

One minute, you were gliding on the ice, acing your practice jumps and having fun. The lessons you're doing have been going on for a few months now, and you've been getting better with each one. Knowing you've always wanted to try learning to skate, Minho had paid for a full year of lessons for your birthday, and you'd almost cried when he told you.

Yet, here you are, once again close to tears for a completely different reason. You knew not to put your arms out the way you did, landing on your wrist at an odd angle. Next thing you knew, you could barely move as pain seized you and threatened to have you black out.

"Honey," Minhos voice is next to your ear, one of his hands rubbing your back soothingly. "Let me help you up, we need to go."

Hours later, you've traveled to the hospital, been seen by a doctor, and sent home with a sprained wrist. The whole way home, there's been a pout on your face, and all you want to do now is lay down in bed and cry.

Minho can tell, he always can, so when you get home he leads you in the direction of the living room. At first, you're confused, but then he kisses your forehead and brings you the first furball he can find. Soonie gets comfortable in your lap as Minho leaves the room, coming back a few minutes later with the comforter from your bed.

"I know you want to change and go to bed," He says softly into your ear, placing another kiss on your lobe with a playful nibble that makes you giggle. "I know you're embarrassed. De-stress a bit first, calm down, then I'll run you a hot bath and we can settle in for the night."

"I guess I can do that," You mumble, leaning your head on his shoulder.

"Uh-uh, you will do that." Minho pats your head, and you can practically hear the smirk in his voice. "I'm not leaving you with a choice."

CHANGBIN (wc:541)

It's not even ten minutes later that you spot him jogging down the street to meet you. You've scooted back into the grass to stay out of the way of other pedestrians, using your cold water bottle to soothe the scrapes on the palms of your hands. As soon as Changbin sees you, he's by your side and taking away the bottle, replacing it with his loving touch. He places a kiss on each palm, taking care to brush away the tiny pieces of ground off your skin.

Maybe it's how soft he's holding you, or just him being so quick to be with you when you're hurt, but you can feel tears well up in your eyes. The sound of your sniffles catches Changbin's attention immediately, and one of his hands is already on your face to thumb the tears away before they've even had the chance to fall.

"Bunny," Changbin coos, a pout on his face. "It's okay, you're okay. Let's get you cleaned up, how's that sound?"

You nod, letting him undo the laces of the roller skates, sliding them off your feet carefully. Thankfully, you didn't twist an ankle or anything, and you're honestly a bit surprised you didn't with the way you fell. Changbin ties the laces together, swinging them over his shoulder. Next, he helps you to your feet.

"You couldn't have brought me proper shoes to walk back in?" You joke, trying to find some humour in the situation.

"Why would I when I can do this-?" Hands hook under your legs and behind your back as he swings you into his arms bridal-style. You can't help but giggle at his antics, covering your face in embarrassment as a passer-by gives you two a look. Changbin lifts your torso close to him, placing a soft kiss to the top of your head.

Changbin carries you like this the whole fifteen minutes back home, keeping his head up high, proud of somewhat showing you off as you go, even if that wasn't the intent of holding you like this. Even when you do arrive home, he still refuses to let you go until you're safely in your bedroom, placing you down on the plush mattress. When you go to sit up, he pushes you back down gently, shaking his head.

"Stay put, let me do this!" Changbin almost whines, and you supress another fit of giggles at his reactions. "I want to treat you."

"It's just some scraped palms-"

"Yah!" He scolds, lifting up a hand. "You're still hurt. I'm not letting you do a thing for the rest of the evening."

Rolling your eyes playfully, you watch as Changbin goes into the en suite and comes back with some alcohol wipes. He sits next to you on the bed and takes one hand in his, gently patting down the scrapes. Mostly, your hands are just red from the fall, no longer bleeding at all, but Changbin still wraps your hands just in case, placing a kiss on each one afterwards.

"Next time, wait for me, okay?" Changbin looks at you, a small pout still present on his face.

"Yeah, yeah... I will," You promise, reaching out for him. "Now come here, I want cuddles."

HYUNJIN (wc: 549)

The whole right side of your face is bright red, a pouch of ice ironically held up to the raw skin. Hyunjin's face drops as he spots you across the arena, hurrying around to get to you. Once he does, he takes the hand holding the pouch away, examining your face.

"It's not as bad as it looks, probably," You say weakly, looking him in the eye. "I haven't actually seen, so that may be a lie."

"Does it hurt a lot?" You shake your head at his question. "Does anything else hurt?"

"My shoulder, a bit," You admit, dropping your gaze. "I landed weird, but I think it'll be fine. It's definitely not broken or dislocated, just sore."

Hyunjin shakes his head, looking out at the ice where other people are still skating. In his head, the world should have stopped for you the minute your body made contact with the ice. He huffs, breath coming out in a little cloud. Turning to him, you poke his arm to gain his attention back.

"I'm fine, really," You promise, but his expression tells you he doesn't quite believe that. "Can we just... go home?"

Nodding, Hyunjin stands and offers his hand to you. Not for physical support, but emotional, walking hand in hand out of the arena. The hallways are quiet as you detour for a bathroom break before leaving.

When you enter, the first thing you notice is just how red your skin has gotten, a noticeable difference from the other half of your face, but you can't help but snort. In all honesty, you look funny. The pain is low on a scale of 1-10, so you're able to find a bit more humour in the situation than Hyunjin at the moment. Once you exit, Hyunjin immediately grasps your hand in his again, his tight grip comforting. If anything, you're more embarrassed than anything.

Getting back to your place doesn't take long, and Hyunjin makes a beeline for your bathroom as you're still taking your coat off. You take your time meeting him in there, seeing some cream set out on the counter. As soon as you walk in, Hyunjin gestures for you to sit on the edge of the tub. Carefully, he puts a few small globs of the cream on your face. It stings a little, but feels nicer as he rubs it into the sore skin. His fingers glide over the curves of your face, taking care to cover every inch of your injury. When he's done, he turns your body and begins massaging the shoulder you landed on.

"Never downplay your pain, you hear me?" Hyunjin lightly scolds, resting his chin on your head as he pauses his actions.

"I meant it when I said it didn't really hurt." You giggle when Hyunjin sighs loudly at your answer. "But I won't, I swear. Does me promising this make you feel better?"

"Honestly?" Hyunjin hums, thinking for a moment. "No, not really, because I know you."

You can hear the teasing smile in his voice, the corners of your lips twitching into your own smile. His arms come around you, gently rocking you side to side, his plush lips pressing a kiss to your temple. Just having him by your side is healing enough.

JISUNG (wc: 608)

The gasp that leaves Jisung's mouth has people around him shooting weird glances, but all he's focused on his your body lying on the cement. There are a few shouts as he runs down to your body, slipping and sliding all the way down to you. You roll onto your back to see Jisung's face right above yours, eyes widening at how quickly he'd gotten to you.

"Baby! Are you okay? Are you hurt? Do we need to go to the hospit-" Jisung rambles, but you cut him off with a groan as you sit up, shaking your head, and he immediately stops talking.

You sit up cross-legged, taking a look over your limbs. With your elbows and knees protected, you've managed not to scrape anything. One of your new friends come running over as soon as she sees your on the ground, kneeling next to you on you other side.

"You okay?" She asks, looking you up and down.

"I'm fine, both of you." With some semi unnecessary help from Jisung, you stand up. "The only thing bruised here is my ego."

"Maybe we should go to the side for a second-" Jisung stops talking when the girl shoots him a look.

Noticing the way she's looking at him, you gently push her to the side and whisper something to her. She nods, giving one last look to Jisung before walking away. Taking a hold of Jisung's hand, you and him make your way back up and to your bag. He grabs it for you as you lead him over to a bench on the side.

Neither of you talk for a few minutes as you sip some water, looking out to everyone still skating, your own board sitting between your feet. It's a vibrant blue with orange accents, something Jisung picked out for you to celebrate you getting back into skating, along with the matching knee and elbow pads. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Jisung fiddling with his fingers.

"I said I'm okay, you don't need to worry," You say with a soft laugh, turning your body to face him. He doesn't look at you, but he nods. "Sungie?"

"What if the board I got you is defective and that's why you fell?" Jisung looks at you briefly, glancing back to his fingers as he continues to voice his anxieties. "Or- or what if you hadn't had the pads and really got hurt?"

"Ji, look at me, please." You cup his cheek, gently making him turn; sad eyes stare back at you and your heart hurts just a bit. "None of this was because of you, and don't think of what could have happened. What matters is that I'm alright, and so are you, okay?"

He nods, and you can see a little bit of relief on his features with the small smile he gives you. You return the smile, bringing his face over to lean your foreheads together. After a moment, he pulls away just enough to place a kiss on your temple, whispering against your skin.

"You know I'd do anything for you." Jisungs hand tangles with yours, and you can feel your smile widen. "Anything, hurt or not. I'd stay by your side for a papercut."

This makes you laugh. "Remind me to text you next time I get one."

Your comment makes Jisung smile against your skin, and you back away enough to look him in the eye.

"Ready for me to go back out there?"

He nods, an embarrassed blush dusting his cheeks. "Yes, but if you do get hurt, I will be running back down there."

FELIX (wc: 851)

The two of you started the night off with some hot cocoa from a stand outside of the ice rink you were going to. Felix had been practically dying to take you out to the festival going on during the week once you both had a little time off, especially knowing your love for skating. Although the rink is small, he knew you'd love it anyway.

Now you're sitting on the side, sliding your shoes off and the skates on. The rentals fit a little loosely from all the usage, but still well enough once you tighten the laces. You help Felix with the fit of his, and all he can do is stare at you lovingly as you do this small act of service for him.

Holding hands, you lap around the ice smoothly a few times before slowing down. Neither of you really want to get off the ice yet, but you're legs are beginning to burn from the constant activity. There's a food truck of to the side, so you agree to take a break to eat and rest before continuing. You make a beeline for it on the other side of the rink, opting to go straight through rather than take your skates off early and walk around.

It's sudden, and you barely register you're falling until you've rolled off to the side. Pain radiates from your ankle, and Felix is by your side in an instant. When you look down to assess the damage, you notice your shoelace has become untied on one skate and is probably the cause of the fall. You frown; after all the years of skating, you know how to tie your laces tight enough. The one night you decide to use rentals, and you fall on your ass.

"Can you stand?" Felix asks, concern written all over his face.

You nod, letting him help you up. As soon as you put pressure on your right foot, your knees are buckling and you can't help but yelp in pain. Felix catches you, holding you tightly so you don't fall again.

"Love?" Felix holds you back a little, guiding you to sit down; thankfully, you were pretty much at the other side of the rink already. "Let me see... oh."

He pulls the skate off, along with your sock, to reveal the red, angry skin of your ankle, already beginning to swell slightly. Felix shakes his head, gently pushing your sock back up. You hiss in pain as his fingers brush the skin, an he looks up at you with worried eyes.

"We need to get you checked out, this looks bad." Felix takes your other skate off. "I'll be right back."

You watch him skate back to the other side to retrieve your belongings, manoeuvring through the crowds of people on the ice swiftly. When he returns, he helps you slip your left boot on, leaving the right one off just in case. People around you have barely even noticed the way you limp off the ice, Felix holding your right side to help take off the pressure. It doesn't take long for Felix to drive to the hospital from the rink. Despite the cold air, all you can focus on is the uncomfortable warmth from your ankle.

Entering your house with a groan, you hop stubbornly to your couch, covering your red face in embarrassment. Felix laughs softly at your reaction, kicking his shoes off before joining you. Gently, he brings your hands away from your face and brings one of his to turn your chin to look at him.

"Everyone makes mistakes, love," Felix cups your cheek when you pout. "One twisted ankle from busted skates isn't the end of the world. You'll heal, and I'll be here the whole time."

"What about-"

"No." Felix says firmly, shaking his head. "I'll be here. You're not allowed to walk without my help until you're better. Now," He takes a pillow, standing up and placing it down where he was sitting. "Let's get this thing elevated."

Felix takes your foot with care, lifting it onto the pillow. He leans over to kiss your forehead before leaving to the kitchen behind you.

"Comfort food?" He calls out, and you look back confused; he just leans against the counter with a small smile. "We didn't get to eat before, and I want you to be as comfortable as possible. I'll bring the flowers in for you too."

"You're too good to me," You sigh, but nod your head. "I'd love that. Can we just... cuddle after?"

"Of course we can." Felix's voice gets closer as he comes back to place another kiss on your forehead, but you want the real deal, reaching up to pull him closer by the neck.

His soft lips connect with yours and you melt into it, smiling into the kiss. When you eventually pull back, Felix leans his head on yours.

"I swear your kisses can heal me," You say quietly.

Felix looks down to where your foot sits atop the pillow, still red and swollen. "Nope, still twisted."

SEUNGMIN (wc: 922)

It's another ten minutes until you see Seungmin approaching from the other side of the food court, standing right as your eyes land on him. His hands are tucked behind his back, piquing your interest as he's clearly hiding something. Instead of stopping when he gets to you, Seungmin turns and walks a few steps backward, nodding you over to follow him with a smirk on his face. You run up to him, trying to see what he's hiding, but he keeps moving in a way you can't.

"Be patient, we need to get outside." Seungmin groans, but you can hear the playfulness in his voice.

"You know I don't like surprises-"

"No, you like to say you don't," He counters, and you feel the corners of your lips tug upward. "I know you better than that."

You exit the mall a few moments later, having only met there as a convenient spot between your two homes. Seungmin gestures you over to the emptier side of the parking lot wrapping around, and you spot a small picnic area set up; your heart skips a beat seeing the effort Seungmin has put into this.

"Min..." You run up to the picnic table, eyes gazing over the set up; there are small cakes and treats and your favourite takeout all organized on the wooden structure. You're about to speak again, but gasp instead when you turn and see what he's holding out.

Seungmin smiles at your reaction, holding your previously broken skateboard up with both hands. The wheel had broken from years of use, and you haven't had the time to go out and get it fixed, so it's been collecting dust in the corner of your room for weeks. To see that Seungmin went out of his way to have it fixed as a surprise for your anniversary date was enough to make you tear up.

Seeing your expression, Seungmin places the board on the ground and comes up to you, pulling you gently by the hands over to it. He knows how much you love to skate, how important this is for you, so he thought it'd be a nice surprise. He places a kiss on your temple, urging you to get on.

You spend the next thirty minutes or so going back and forth on the sidewalk by the table, stopping to have a few bites and talk to Seungmin. He stares at you as you head away from him again, his lips twitching up into a small smile when he sees how much you're enjoying yourself. When you turn around, you go a bit faster, wanting to get back to Seungmin quickly to give him his gift. You don't notice the way your board goes of on an angle, too excited.

"Baby, I have someth- woah!" You collide with the hard ground, cement scraping your arms as you tumble.

"Y/n!" Seungmin shoots out of his seat, kneeling next to you and helping you into a sitting position. "God, what the hell? Are you okay?"

"I fall and the first thing you say to me is 'what the hell'," You try and laugh, but your eyes are stinging with unshed tears at the pain in your forearms.

Seungmin lifts your arms to him, inhaling sharply at the bloody scrapes decorating your skin. Dropping your arms, he runs back to the table, grabbing his bag. You watch him with a confused look until you spot the small first aid kit in his open bag.

"Always prepared," You mumble, pouting. You really lucked out with Seungmin.

"With a partner as clumsy as you? Of course I am," He jokes, taking out some wipes.

His touch is light as he pats the wounds, looking up at you every so often to make sure you're alright. Although you're making faces every time the wipe comes in contact with your skin, at least you aren't close to crying anymore, now used to the slight burning sensation on your raw skin. Seungmin carefully places some large bandaids on the scrapes, kissing each one as he does; his care makes your heart ache.

"I'll pack up and we can head back to yours. I don't want you getting hurt again." Seungmin declares, standing and helping you back on your feet.

"What? No," You shake your head, grabbing Seungmin's hand before he can get much further. "I want to enjoy our date how it was meant to be. They're just a few bumps and bruises, nothing I can't handle."

Seungmin looks at you, and you can tell he doesn't want to do that. What he wants is to take care of you, wrap you up in a warm blanket and never let you go. After a moment, he sighs, and you can tell he's giving in to the look you're giving him.

"Fine, but on one condition." You wait for him to continue. "We go in and buy you some new knee pads and stuff. Then you let me pamper you when we get to yours."

"Kim Seungmin, are you admitting you care about me?" You laugh, poking his cheek; he swats your hand away softly.

"Never in your wildest dreams."

"I don't know, my dreams can get pretty wild... oh!" You run over to your bag, digging to the bottom to grab an envelop. "Your gift!"

Seungmin laughs at your sudden change in topic, eyeing the envelop. Inside are two tickets to see his favourite baseball team, and you can't wait to see the look on his face.

JEONGIN (wc: 862)

"Yes, I can see." Jeongin wraps his arm around your shoulders, pressing a kiss to your temple.

"Oh!" You're surprised a bit from the sudden appearance and affection of your boyfriend, but lean into him. "I wasn't expecting you to be here yet."

"I got out early. Let's go get the skates."

Jeongin keeps a hand on your back the whole way to the line up to retrieve the skates. Although you have your own, he still needs some, so you wait in line with him and catch up on your days. The whole time you're talking, you can't help but be a little stuck on his comment earlier, wondering if he was being serious, but you know neither of you like grand, public gestures like that.

The rink isn't incredibly busy for a Friday night, and you aren't complaining. It's easier to do and go where you want, colourful lights reflecting off the shiny ground. You look at Jeongin beside you, reds and blues and greens dancing over his sharp features; you're mesmerized.

Which is definitely what causes you to go crashing into the wall of the rink, losing your balance and falling backward. The back of your head smacks the hard ground, and you can feel tears stinging the corners of your eyes at the impact. Before you can really react, there are already gentle hands on your head trying to assess the damage. Your ears are ringing a bit, but you can hear your boyfriend's voice from above you and open your eyes, having squeezed them shut in pain.

"Y/n? Baby?" Jeongin's voice becomes clearer as he helps you sit up against the wall. "Say something, please. You're freaking me out."

"My head hurts," You whine, pouting and bringing your own hands to your head; you aren't bleeding, but there's sure to be a bump tomorrow.

"Yeah, I wonder why." Jeongin clears his throat, signaling some staff over. "We'll get you off the rink carefully, okay? You probably gave yourself a concussion or something."

It doesn't take long to get off the rink, and you let Jeongin take your skates off, too busy with holding your face in your hands to block the lights out. What you once saw as a beautiful, mood-setting atmosphere was now giving you the worst headache of your life. You keep a hand above your eyes as you leave, another attempt to block light while still being able to see where you're going.

Jeongin helps you into his car, driving you to the nearest hospital. Inside, you keep your eyes closed during the long wait, burying your head into Jeongin's shoulder. You're so grateful for him staying with you, the way his hand rubs up and down your arm bringing you comfort; movements reserved for you, and only you.

The doctor confirms you have a mild concussion, discussing the details of your rest and recover before sending you home. Once you get in, you collapse onto your couch with a groan of embarrassment.

"Want me to make you something?" You look up to see Jeongin setting his bag down and taking his coat off, giving him a confused look. "What? You really think I'm just going to drop you off at home, in pain, and dip?"

"You have things to do tomorrow-"

"Not anymore." Jeongin moves toward your kitchen. "Cancelled everything this week. I can't have you alone right now."

The casual tone of his voice has you melting, looking on at him with adoration in your eyes. You watch as he prepares you something, bringing over your favourite homemade comfort food. When he sets it down on the coffee table, you look up at him from where you're now curled up on the couch under a blanket.

"Would you hate me if I said I was too nauseous to eat right now?" You ask quietly, barely holding his gaze.

"Of course," Jeongin says with a smirk.

You reach out to smack him playfully, temporarily forgetting about your concussion and moving way too quickly. Grabbing onto the arm of the couch, you steady yourself from the wave of dizziness. Jeongin is instantly kneeling down and leaning you back, lightly scolding you as he does. A small smile forms on your face.

"You're lucky I love you," You giggle, looking at him with partially closed eyes.

"I am. I really am." Jeongin sighs, getting up to sit next to you.

Pulling him closer with your eyes closed, your hands brush the corner of something sticking out of his pocket, eyes instantly opening back up. You catch a glimpse of the corner of a red box before Jeongin begins bringing your blanket over him, but you stop him.

"You weren't kidding?" You look at him with wide eyes. It takes a moment to register what you're talking about, and then he begins to blush, hard.

"I wasn't."

"Jeongin-" He holds a finger to your lips to silence you.

"No, don't say anything. I want to wait until you're feeling better, okay?" You nod, and he leans in to kiss your cheek. "Now rest, baby. Need you healed up so I can do this the right way."

notes - HELP i actually don't know how to write anymore or smthn??? i'm so sorry if this is ass. me vs feeling insecure abt my writing ahahahahaha anyway. thank u for the request! i feel like maybe this didn't go the right direction sjdksk this is partially unedited too bc i kind of can't stand to reread my own writing so many times rn, so i apologize for any mistakes 🤡

─── taglist : @chaeryred @toplinelix @channie-143 @staysinbloom

#⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ SKZ SCENARIOS ⋆｡˚✴︎⋆#🔮 anon!#skz texts #skz fake texts #skz #stray kids texts #stray kids fake texts #stray kids #skz scenarios #skz imagines #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios

577 notes · View notes

lunarw0rks · 1 year

Note

Hello! I just found your blog and I just started reading everything I saw 😅. Can I request 141 + König + Alejandro with a pregnant reader? They don't know yet and when the reader will break the news they are really stressed with work and end up taking it out on the reader, they end up getting into an argument and saying they hate the reader and that their life would be so much better without the reader in it (😈). The reader takes this seriously and leaves when they are asleep... Months later they meet again when the reader is on her way to the hospital to give birth (😈). Angst to fluff pls. If you don't feel good about writing or it's too big, that's fine. Have a nice day and thank you so much for all the time you spend writing to us.

The Things We Say // 141 Drabble

Summary: You're expecting, but it's not good news. To him, at least. Your relationship takes a hit, but once he meets your child, he's swallowed with regret for how he treated you.

Warning(s): angst to fluff, hurt/comfort, pregnancy, childbirth, mentions of premature birth/complications, mild injury/blood, strong language, established relationship, fem!Reader, no use of y/n

A/N: I was hurting my own feelings---but, there's fluff after the angst, so don't get too upset besties<3 Hope you don't mind anon, I took some creative liberty because I didn't want them all to have the same plotline. | Word Count: 5.9k

꒦꒷ MAIN MASTERLIST ꒷꒦ 141 MASTERLIST // have a request? ⋆ ⚘ 🕊 ˚✧ ₊˚ʚ ao3 ver.

SYNOPSIS; he had been in the thick of it lately, sometimes more overwrought when at home with you than in active combat, it seemed. Conversations were either abrupt, crude, or nonexistent—often just building on top of the tension building between the two of you. Relationships were supposed to be fifty-fifty, but you felt you were carrying the burden of the whole percentage. That’s why the news couldn’t have come at a worse time—you, staring at the two lines instead of one. No matter how long you stared, double-checked the diagram, the answer was the same. Pregnant. So, now you knew two things for certain, you were expecting, and most heartbreaking—the other one responsible was at his worst. To break the news to him, it took every fiber of your being.

⋘ » ☆ « ⋙

AFTERMATH; nine months of hell. That’s how you would answer if someone asked. Few people did though, even at work or out on the street. There was the occasional boy or girl, how are you feeling. But they were being polite, or taking pity on the pregnant woman without a ring on her finger. The pregnant woman with bags under her eyes, the one who winces with each step because she’s ready to pop. None of it meant anything to you, because the other half of this responsibility had been left in the dark, and not for much longer. You weren’t raising this child alone, no matter how irate he was going to be when you contacted him.

Price

One of John’s many talents; stewing on his feelings, keeping them suppressed for an unnatural amount of time.

Often so long that he forgot about the source of his anger once he had time to catch up to them. That is… Until his work was involved. Then he was an entirely different man, often spending his time deep in a bottle and with a nose deep in paperwork, with little regard for anyone else around him.

His control, it was typically so consistent, that he knew not to bring his professional problems home. But lately? It’s been anything but typical. He wasn’t what you would call mean, but there was definitely a negative word to describe it. Cold? Apathetic? Perhaps even unwelcoming?

The bickering, if you could call it that, had droned on for several minutes now. Though, it was mostly you venting your frustrations to an uninterested Price. ❝I know it’s not good timing, John. Why the fuck do you think I’m in here trying to reason with you? Are we just supposed to ignore this until we can’t anymore?❞ You hissed, tempted to rip the paperwork from his grip to get him to pay attention.

He always wanted children, but not right now. Naturally, that’s when it happened. He felt like he was drowning, at first only professionally, but now personally too. The funds weren’t a problem, the kid had two parents, but… you and him—nothing was working.

❝Sweetheart, I’m in the thick of it right now. Please.❞ He didn’t need to raise his voice for you to see how irritated he was. Perhaps at the baby, you, himself, or all the above. ❝I have a meeting.❞ He stood up from his workspace, steaming coffee in hand.

John walked away from you like you were a pestering soldier, not the mother of his child. Enough was enough.

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

He thought he was slick, only giving you physical checks to see your face, to ensure that you were indeed alright. It was often the coffee shop within equal walking distance of your two separate homes. John would always slide the amount you needed across the table, a look of remorse on his face. Each monthly meeting, your stomach would grow in size, as did your drained expression.

But you wouldn’t talk to him. You would only text him the amount, nod when he asked questions. It was the worst torture you could put a man like John through—one that needed the approval of his loved ones. It just couldn’t happen, not yet. The wounds of how he treated you, they were too fresh, even after nine months of this routine.

To be truthful, you debated on even calling him when you went into labor. You could do it alone, right? With just the support of the delivery nurses, and most of all your baby girl as the reward? Perhaps you could wait until after, give him the respect to at least meet his daughter. For someone not carrying a child, he looked just as beat; sunken eyes, less tidy facial hair than usual, and somehow even more tobacco on his breath.

John was clawing himself from the inside out, begging for something other than a “yes” or “no” from your lips.

—

❝I can’t do this,❞ you repeated it about fifty times, tears streaming down your cheeks from both the pain and the distraught feelings. That plan you had to not call him, it was falling through quite quickly. This level of agony? You needed someone other than a doctor. You needed the father, as much as it pained you to admit.

❝Yes, you can dear, women have babies everyday.❞ Bless the nurse, she was trying her best to keep you calm, but it didn’t work.

What if something went wrong? If somehow you didn’t make it but your baby girl did, she would be alone until he got here… That couldn’t, no—wouldn’t happen. He needed to be there, right beside this bed to hold her in case you couldn’t.

In between your pained grunts, you finally spit out what you’d been trying to tell her, finding a split second of sensibility during all this distress. ❝Call… John. Please, call him!❞

—

The doors swung open faster than any of the personnel, his gaze softening when he saw you breathing in a patterned fashion. The nurse beside you gave him a nod, freeing your hand for him to take her place. John wasn’t going to miss this, and frankly, he was irked that he almost did. But he wasn’t irked at you; he was irked at himself for taking this for granted.

His soothing voice talks you through each contraction, a soothing hand dabbing away the sweat and tears streaming down your face.

❝I got you, sweetheart. You’re almost done pushing.❞ Though he looked gruff on the outside, inside he was distraught. You had maintained the cold shoulder throughout the pregnancy, but you still called him here? You were more than he deserved in his eyes.

The last round of pushing, and they were close together now. You had about thirty seconds to say this, before you were screaming again.❝I’m glad you’re here.❞ Despite all the pain you were in, you gave his hand a squeeze, staring at him with a glossy expression.

His eyes nearly watered; the first sentence you had uttered to him in months, and it was clear you meant every bit of it. You needed him and so did your daughter, right here right now. He pressed a kiss to your temple, a soothing massaging your shoulder.

John kept his tone firm on purpose, to emphasize how deeply he cared for you right now. ❝I’ll always be here for you, love. Always.❞

Simon

Simon loved deep; hated even deeper.

It was one of the features that drew you to him in the first place, how blunt he could be, how his broodiness contrasted your personality in more ways than one. His cynical behavior could be humorous, could be reassuring, but most of all—bitter. To add stress to the equation, to bring it home? He was an explosive disaster waiting to happen.

❝Simon,❞ you approached from behind, holding the test in your hands, because you knew the first question he would ask when you told him; is if you took one. Well, if he wasn’t actively cursing under his breath, he would’ve.

Instead, he merely flicked his eyes over for a brief moment, as if you were a stranger on the street that said excuse me. ❝Simon.❞ Your tone grew firmer, clutching the stick with more apprehension.

❝Bloody Christ, what?❞ He shifted in his seat, bloodshot and hooded eyes that only twisted the knife further. You couldn’t tell him now, not with the pressure of being on the spot. The right words just wouldn’t come out, prompting you to put the stick behind your back. ❝Goddamn nuisance.❞ He muttered under his breath as if it was only supposed to be an internal thought.

Though, he didn’t look all that remorseful about it—at least on the outside.

He had never said anything like that before, at least not to your face. It seemed, all the weeks of tension and cold shoulder, it was enough. You were done and out the door the second he’d dozed.

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

Simon made a few futile attempts to reach out, but his own stubbornness prevented him from ever being face-to-face. He beat himself up so badly, and from his side of things—he’d only lost one person, not two.

It pained you to ask the delivery nurse to call him. You wanted to shove the crowning newborn right back inside and hold off, to go find him yourself and smack sense into him for putting you through this agony. But you couldn’t. Quite literally couldn’t get up, and didn’t want to. Resulting in pettiness and venom would make you worse than him because you would be using this child as a pawn.

He said nothing, but his eyes said enough. The nurses put a sterile drape over his shoulders, but he paid them no mind. His amber eyes remained on you; a bulging belly and an expression of pure agony. Had he missed something, a crucial chapter of your new life post-breakup? Most of all, why did you call him?

❝Hold my hand.❞ Simon found the side of your bed, allowing you to dig your fingernails into his forearm until there were imprints. He had few words, but the countenance of concern and guilt said it all. If this wasn’t his… you would’ve done this alone, or the father would be here. Then it dawned on him; it was his.

—

Hours passed, and he still hadn’t mentioned the obvious. Nine months without his support—financial or moral. You needed rest, as did the baby girl—so you were getting it, first and foremost. The adult matters would be better talked about when you weren’t still freshly recovering.

Simon tapped his foot against the tile, sitting in the chair beside the bed. He was unsure of who to keep an eye on more; the newborn swaddled in her own crib, or you, exhaustedly sleeping in your hospital bed. Though he’d held the girl, it felt forbidden, like he was only a placeholder until your body recovered enough to do it yourself. It was shock preventing him from feeling, not cruelty.

You stirred awake, a sigh of contempt when you laid eyes on him. The labor was a blur your mind had already shut out, and you truly didn’t recall the nurses contacting him. Your eyes were glossy with dark circles underneath them. ❝I’m…❞ It was like the night you tried to tell him but couldn’t, the words wouldn’t come out.

Simon saw that look in your eyes; the fear that he would explode, or storm out and leave you with the child forever—but he wasn’t. All the years of trying to not relieve the same mistakes his own father made, it would be useless if he did that. And he couldn’t, seeing that look of desperation on your face, how you looked as if you were going to burst into tears at the sight of him. That look, it was the same one that gnawed at him during those months apart, how he found you and your belongings gone.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. ❝Shh… Don’t apologize. Ever.❞ He was hovering now, a kiss pressed to your forehead. Whatever you decided when you were healed enough, he would take it like a man, because he had the audacity to speak to you like a man who wronged him.

Soap

Soap was… a complicated man to say the least. Usually, he was sweet, charming, with the right amount of cockiness. His ability to make you laugh drew you into him in the first place. But it was dwindling—at least during the past few weeks. Now, all that remained was smugness and bitter mutters under the breath.

❝Don’t be a child about this, we’ll figure it out,❞ He says, slamming his car door behind you. The first time you two had been out to dinner together in weeks, spoiled because you finally broke the news to him. You teared up in the restaurant because his reaction was anything but accepting, and frankly, he found it embarrassing.

He hadn’t meant it that way—that’s just how it came out.

He truly did want to figure this baby thing out, but it was the worst possible timing; an all-time high of stress at work, bickering with you constantly. And now, a third added to the dynamic with only months to prepare? It was too much. ❝Oh, I’m acting like a child?❞ You walked into the house, taking off the jewelry you had on to look nice for him.

The bickering that ensued—it was nothing nice, nothing you’d care to remember.

❝I don’t want you to go, lass. Don’t do this.❞ You had already made up your mind. Perhaps it was your emotions clouding your judgment, that instinct you felt being a few weeks along… It didn’t matter, you couldn’t be here. Not with him, not right now.

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

You were about to pop, literally any day now. You knew that meant you would have to talk to the father, and interact with him for about eighteen years—at least be civil. But the rationality of it, how you would have to co-parent with him, didn’t ease your anxieties. Of course, he was adamant about checking up on you and being more of a parasite than the fetus taking half your energy.

You closed the car door with your hip, a slow waddle up the pavement. Where the hell your keys were, that was another story—something you would deal with once you rolled yourself up to the door.

❝What the hell are you doin’?❞ The voice nearly made you drop all the grocery bags in your grasp, a jumpy shriek coming out. When you whipped around, it was Soap, a look of upset on his very expressive face.

Once you started to recover from the scare of a lifetime, an unintentional one at that, a scowl formed on your face. It was like he had a sense of the absolute worst time to show up and annoy you, especially now that you were swollen and extra agitated. ❝A phone call would’ve worked, Johnny. Or, I don’t know, maybe a ‘hey I’m right behind you, lady’!❞ You attempted to mock his accent out of pure frustration, but he didn’t find the humor in it, at least not right away.

He yanked the bags out of your grip, stomping up the steps of your porch. ❝You shouldn’t be carryin’ these.❞ You really should not be doing that, he was right, but the thought of him being your grocery boy—showing up even more? ❝Keys.❞ He held out his free hand, the other one swimming in bags. It was ridiculous, apparently, you weren’t allowed to twist a key now, either.

You shove past him once he’s turned the key, squeezing past and joining him in the kitchen. Without a word, he starts putting away anything and everything you bought. Some are nutritious, others purely to feed your cravings. ❝Don’t start.❞ You pointed a finger at him when he picked up a family-sized bag of candy, a smart-ass comment daring to escape his lips.

❝God, I can’t believe you, Johnny. Sneaking up on me like that, I could’ve fallen.❞ You put an instinctive hand on your stomach, still irked by his presence.

❝No, you would’ve fallen carrying all those bags yourself. I have a right to be worried, it’s my bloody kid too.❞ He retorts, a hand on his hip. He’s done all he’s obligated to now; carrying and putting away your groceries.

You tighten your lips into a line, fighting the urge to start a full-blown argument. ❝Yeah, you remind me every day, so thanks for tha— Shit.❞ It seemed, raising your voice counted as exerting yourself because there was a sudden cramp in your stomach, a trickle down your pant leg.

Soap’s eyes widened, seeing you go from scolding him to hunched over and holding your stomach. You had forced yourself into labor, now standing on knees about to buckle. ❝I’ve got you, now get going woman, before I put you over my shoulder.❞ He felt he had never moved faster, a tight fist around your forearm to keep you standing as he led you through the door you had just walked in.

—

It seemed there was little time between being admitted to actively pushing. This kid wanted out, and right this second. You let out a shriek as the back of your head slammed against the pillow, sweat trickling down your brow as you cursed and wailed. ❝I know it hurts, love, but you got this.❞ He allowed you to clamp down on his hand, to dig your fingertips until they drew blood.

❝Oh, you know do you?!❞ You snapped at him, finding it hard to be nice when you felt like you were being ripped in half.

❝If I wasn’t,❞ you grunted in between words, face scrunched and labored breathing, ❝stuck in this damn bed, I would so… hurt you right now, Johnny.❞ He fought the urge to snicker just a little bit, masking it with his concern for you. Seeing you in agony, even when you were actively snapping at him, it didn’t please him one bit.

Well, you were arguing with him, so he knew you weren’t actively dying.

If you used enough of that anger, it would help you literally push through the pain, just like how it caused the kid to want to come out right this second. For once, his pestering and sarcasm were actually helping.

With one final wave of it, your back arched off the bed and finally, the loud cry of an infant filled the white-walled room. Soap nearly fainted, if he was being honest—he was awfully squeamish for someone who dealt with blood daily. But it was your blood and… fluids, things that made him shiver when he pictured how painful that could’ve been.

The doctors were speedy, cleaning off and checking vitals. All he could do was stare at the newborn—his baby boy. And then he looked at you, choked up and stared in awe at the baby set on your chest. ❝Jesus…❞ he leaned down, placing a gentle hand on yours as it held the child’s head.

All the fighting, all the bickering, even the late-night candy runs—they were well worth it. He had a second chance now, to make things right with you, and to be a decent father.

Gaz

Gaz could be hotheaded, sometimes downright blunt, especially when he’s passionate about something to do with his work. The night you were going to break the news, nothing was going right. He came home in a huff, not bothering to take off his boots before plopping on the sofa. Kyle had a right to be stressed; look at what he does all day. But he didn’t have a right to be cruel to you because of it.

You took a seat beside him and set the positive test down on his thigh. A silence followed by a scowl, and then he finally spoke. ❝You can’t be serious.❞ It nearly gutted you right then and there. His leg began to bounce anxiously the longer he glanced at the life-changing test results.

❝Kyle, I—❞ you weren’t even sure what you were trying to say either, not that he gave you a chance. ❝I don’t have time for this, babe. I really can’t do this right now.❞ He put his head in his hands, a flustered groan escaping his lips.

❝Are you saying you don’t want this? That we shouldn’t have done this?❞ You were suddenly standing, eyes wide and watering. You felt like you had just been dumped on the street, despite his unclear tone.

He peered up, lips in a blunt line. ❝Maybe we shouldn’t have.❞ You could’ve crawled into a hole and died right then and there, but you merely nodded. Nodded and then left the room, leaving him to his moodiness. No, it wasn’t the best timing, but that didn’t give him the right to brush you off, to treat you like a distasteful afterthought.

It wasn’t just you anymore, it was you and the baby.

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

It was one of his few days off—though he wasn’t feeling much relaxation. You were still hot and cold with him, now about halfway through your third trimester; thirty-two weeks to be exact. It was nearing that point, where he had prepared a spare room for the baby, began coordinating plans for labor, etc…

But he still didn’t feel ready, or like he deserved you after how cruel he was that night. Kyle was only helping you to help you and the baby.

His phone buzzed, right when he had begun relaxing for the evening. 10:32 PM; and it was your number. The second he heard the voice of a nurse on the other line, not yours, his feet were halfway out the front door.

—

❝I’m fine, Kyle. I’m fine…❞ It seemed no matter how many times you repeated it, he didn’t seem to believe it. From the minute he entered your hospital room to now, he had at least one hand on you, a thumb grazing the cuts and bruises on your body. You had been in a car accident—mild for you, life-threatening for a preemie. ❝You’re not fine.❞ he said firmly, eyes darting towards your clothes bagged in the corner—bloodied and with windshield pieces still embedded.

Kyle was more worried about you at first, but you were solely concerned about your baby—left alone in the NICU being poked and prodded by personnel. You had to be induced, otherwise he wouldn’t have made it past the front doors. Now, he was too weak to be visited, too small and vulnerable to be held by his own mother yet. It was gut-wrenching; hours without a solid answer, because his chances depended solely on him making it through the night.

Now, there was nothing to do but wait, perhaps see your baby through a glass box if you got lucky.

—

❝He’s perfect,❞ Kyle peered down at the preemie in his hands, a baggy blue cap on his head. There were small babies, and he was somehow smaller. What once was the scare of a lifetime, it was now a passing memory to remind Gaz of what he could’ve lost. He would never make the mistake of talking to you like that again, even if the two events didn’t correlate.

What if the night you left, you got into an accident then, and it was much worse? He wouldn’t be able to live with himself, plain and simple. ❝It’s cheesy but, he does have your eyes.❞ You whispered from the nursing chair you were sitting in, still healing and fatigued from the ordeal. The picture in front of you; Kyle looking at your son with such love—it was irreplaceable and forever stuck in your memories.

❝Correct. But he has your scowl, babe.❞ Gaz flicked his eyes upwards, feeling you gently nudge his shin at the sound of the comment.

It didn’t matter the things he said months ago, as long as he cherished this new life with you as much as you planned to.

Alejandro

Alejandro always had passion for the things he cherished; you and his work, nothing else mattered more. Passion led to intense feelings, intense feelings turned into misplaced bitterness. It wasn’t your fault that you were expecting, no more than it was his, at least. He knew that and had he just taken a breath and thought more carefully about his phrasing, this whole mess could’ve been avoided.

❝Do you think I wanted to interrupt you, Alejandro?❞ You hissed, standing in the doorway of his office with the positive test in your hands. He had just looked at you with such distaste as if you were the root cause of his stress and not his work.

What better way to stir the pot, than to match his wrath? Well, it certainly did that, though seeing him rage was the last sight you wanted to see. Alejandro always had trouble with his anger, often finding himself with all these feelings he had no clue how to control.

❝You always do what you want!❞ There it was, him blowing his fuse. He’d thrown his hands in the air, face tightened into a scowl. He couldn’t leave it at that, either, not when his rage came in such intense waves. ❝You’ll do what you always do—bleed me dry!❞

You couldn’t speak, despite how vicious you felt only seconds before. It seemed too truthful for your liking like he had been waiting for an excuse to spill his guts. ❝As long as you have enough to amuse yourself, I’m nothing to you, right?❞ He wasn’t yelling anymore, but his mocking tone was enough to tear at your heartstrings.

Had he seriously played that card with you—the man always insistent on taking care of you, financially, physically, emotionally? Now, of all times? The argument ended with you slamming the front door behind you, something he would’ve done.

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

You spent weeks ignoring him, and throughout the pregnancy, it was dry texts or brief calls. His only sign that you were even alive was the notification that you had used his account to purchase necessities. The irony of it made Alejandro nauseous, how awful he made it sound that you were doing what he told you to; to let him take care of you. The fact that you didn’t drain the funds, only bought what you needed, spoke volumes.

❝I’m not upset at you, amor—I wasn’t upset with you.❞

Alejandro reached a hand across the picnic table, a firm but loving grip on your forearm. You looked beat; hair a different length than before, exhausted eyes that were brimming with tears, and most of all a growing stomach. It was all his fault; the reason you didn’t want to face him like this, in fear that he would cut you and the baby off for good. Only, he was there to see your face, not for confrontation or another spat.

It didn’t matter what you said, if you screamed at him right now, or said nothing. Alejandro had made up his mind the night you left. ❝I’ll come to every appointment, parenting class, anything.❞

—

Of all the nights for you to be in labor, it had to be during a wicked storm. You had gone over to his house to make civil conversation over dinner, to at least attempt at repairing things. He had slaved over the stove, cooking his favorite for you. For most of the meal, things were… surprisingly tranquil; even romantic.

You were heavily pregnant, were you supposed to refuse a warm meal? Not a chance. You were too full, too swollen to get up out of the dining chair once the meal finished. And looking out the window? There was no way in hell Alejandro was going to let you drive home in this; droplets whipped down, trees and waste bins flew away from the force of it, and the rain was icy. Well, you were exhausted, and he had a bed he was willing to give up. Your back and feet practically sighed in relief when you laid back in his bed, the one you two once shared. It was a nice feeling, being there again and knowing Alejandro was trying his hardest to plead forgiveness.

About an hour into your much needed-slumber, you felt a pool in the sheets. Instinctually, you figured it was the fetus pressing on your bladder—a downright embarrassing thing you’d have to wake up and explain to him. But… it was clear it wasn’t that. You were in labor and stuck here.

The shriek you let out when you got a violent contraction; Alejandro dashed quicker than he ever did when dodging bullets. His fumbling fingers dialed 911, yanking the comforter off the bed to get a better view of your dilation. Fortunately, he was trained on how to deliver a baby when stranded, or in a country without medical support. But this was his baby and your life was in his hands. If he didn’t do this correctly, if something went wrong, he would never forgive himself.

The ambulance wouldn’t be there for an hour—you didn’t have an hour to spare, this baby was coming now. ❝You can do this, amor, we’re doing this together.❞ One hand clenched yours, the other kept an eye on the crowning baby. Just how you hadn’t woken up sooner, neither of you knew. Perhaps you had gotten so used to cramps and pains, that you thought it was just another sleepless night courtesy of the little one.

—

The moment your wails went silent as his baby girl finally came, Alejandro felt his heart drop. He had to make the worst decision; focusing on the newborn first. He wrapped her in one of his shirts, wiping the fluid and blood from her small face. As he cradled her, a quick hand fingered for a pulse, a loud sigh escaping his lips when he felt one. You had only passed out from the pain—probably doing you a service, considering he didn’t have the proper medication to numb your pain.

Your eyes fluttered open at the sound of the wailing child, still with gritted teeth. But your baby was there—and her lungs were very clearly working. Alejandro set her down on your chest, allowing you to hold your daughter for the first time. ❝You did so well, cariño. Look at her.❞ He was merely distracting you with the baby on your chest, to not divert your attention towards the state your body was in as he cleaned you up.

Somehow, he had pulled this off with both his girls safe, soon to be checked out properly at a hospital. When you first broke the news, he thought he knew the meaning of being so suddenly thrust into fatherhood, but that took on a whole new meaning after tonight.

König

There had once been a line he didn’t cross, but he did that night. König never yelled at you. He saved that stern side of him for his work because it was acceptable there. But in the weeks that his work had bled onto you, spoiling the relationship, his values seemed to loosen. Though he was a complicated man, a man uncertain of himself and his appearance, he maintained a hardness about him. Ruthless in the field and immensely protective of anyone that had come to love him.

You approached him as he worked, placing the test on the desk he was sitting at. ❝König, I need to tell you something.❞

With his head facing the paperwork, he merely shrugged at you. Until he saw what you’d placed there, his eyes going wide. But it wasn’t shock or excitement; it was disdain for the fact that this baby was just another interruption—you were just another interruption. ❝I have no time for this, Schatz, you know that.❞

He didn’t need to raise his voice for his words to sting, his bitter tone was more than enough. But he surely hadn’t meant it like that, right? He’d meant he didn’t have time for this right now… right?

❝Why don’t you go rest, then?❞ He asks, picking up the folder that he was reading previously. It wasn’t a request made out of concern, König was patronizing you. His glare was typically enough to make a soldier scramble, but you just stood there for a few seconds, biting back the urge to choke.

How you left that night, it wasn’t dramatic or emotional, it was dry. König tells you to think clearly about this, to sleep on it. But you couldn’t—and you weren’t going to be a verbal punching bag.

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

König only called you weekly for appointment updates, or to let you know he had sent you a check. Other than that, words dripped with tension and the urge to say so much more. But you were too stubborn for your own good, and so was he. You were more concerned with hosting life than playing games with a father who treated you like a wimp.

He’d only seen you once, during the second trimester when he showed up at your apartment. You protested, but he showed up anyway, saying he needed “proof” that you and the fetus were safe. The voice on the phone wasn’t enough, in his eyes.

Of course, when you needed him most, screaming and keeling over in the kitchen, he wasn’t there. It was a neighbor that called an ambulance for you because they knew they had a pregnant tenant next door. In fact, it was such a close call, you nearly didn’t make it to the delivery room before the newborn came out wailing.

The only plus side? While the paramedics were deterring you from pushing, you’d sent a text—probably unintelligible—but a text, nonetheless. He knew your due date, how today was only a few days off, and he was in his car before he could grasp the severity of this new life stage.

—

❝I’m here, schätzchen. I’m not going to hurt you again, or him.❞ He hunched over the bed, eyes in a perpetual state of disbelief as he watched you soothe the whining newborn. Clarity hit him like a truck when he heard your screams during delivery, and then he was all in. Not that he had a choice, this was his doing too.

He had given you the financial support to get proper nutrition for you and the baby, to pay for the appointments, but that wasn’t enough—not in König’s eyes. He needed to snap out of his self-pity and be a support system. Whether you wanted to co-parent or work on repairing the relationship, you were not under any circumstances taking care of this newborn alone, at your apartment.

He placed a hand in your hair, threading his fingers through the strands. ❝We can clear out the spare room, hm? There’s more than enough room for the two of you.❞ He was already picturing it, how he was going to pull an all-nighter and get to work on the room, going to your apartment and moving the baby supplies from yours to his.

König didn’t need to state the obvious, that you weren’t bound to any type of relationship besides the one concerning the child. Whether you wanted to move out once the baby hit a certain age or not, he was going to keep an eye on the two of you.

Two of you, not just the newborn you were rocking. It was either both of you, or neither, and he was intent on it being the first option.

If you made it this far - THANK YOU!

#mw2 #mw2 fanfic #call of duty #simon riley #task force 141 #simon riley x reader #ghost mw2 #task force 141 x reader #simon riley fluff #alejandro vargas #alejandro vargas x reader #captain john price #john price #kyle gaz garrick #gaz x reader #konig x you #soap mactavish #soap mactavish x reader #task force 141 x y/n

2K notes · View notes

invidiia · 1 year

Note

Hello! 🙃 Do you mind if I request a platonic yandere Dazai with a reader who used to be his subordinate in the port mafia but then they cross paths on a mission?

⋆⭒˚｡⋆ "i watch the rising sun!" 𖤐 p!yandere dazai // reader.

platonic yandere dazai meets his old subordinate.

m.list // now playing..

[ a/n ; THANK YOU FOR REQUESTING!! if something doesn't make sense, please god just ignore it because it's 2am, i'm dehydrated, half asleep, and i really need to continue writing on this blog. ]

[ warning ; platonic yandere, dazai himself needs a warning, mentions of abuse (not towards reader), mentions of the abuse cycle, user is about 18, mori is present, there's literally more backstory/explanation to this than the actual point, im sobbin ]

It was years since Dazai left the Port Mafia.

You were his other subordinate, besides Akutagawa. The ways he treated you both were entirely different - it usually ended in you being forced to watch Dazai 'train' Akutagawa, while he later patted your head, praising you for being good, which was standing by his side and watching as he mistreated others. Of course, after that, you would treat any of Akutagawa's wounds. Dazai treated you so well because you were like him, but why didn't he treat Akutagawa the same? You never understood.

Dazai spoke to you once before leaving - ordering you to stay put. He even injured you, breaking a few of your fingers and telling you to say you had gotten into a fight before he left, so you wouldn't be suspected in aiding his treason.

While you were glad that Akutagawa would no longer have to suffer by his hands - you were somewhat upset by him leaving. While some of the others were fine with comforting you, it wasn't the same as when Dazai did it. You couldn't help but miss the times he would praise you and pat your head for doing well.

But over time, you changed. You'd learned how to cope a much better way, and instead of wanting his praise and affection, you grew colder to anyone who tried showing you any kind of love. When others in the mafia tried to comfort you over him leaving, they'd watch as you became cold to them, not letting yourself be vulnerable to anybody anymore. Akutagawa had also changed - however, he was.. worse. The abuse cycle that had started from Mori had yet to break.

It was about a month after Kyouka had been taken in by the Armed Detective Agency. Mori never told you much about the agency, nothing about who was in it aside from Fukuzawa, Yosano, Atsushi, and Kyouka, and that they were different in many obvious ways, but had a form of alliance to defeat the Guild, none of which you'd been involved in. Everyone else was a mystery to you, since you were never given jobs involved with the agency anyway.

It came to your surprise when Mori presented you with a brand new mission of sort, to go with him while meeting with the leader of the Agency. That was unusual - usually Chuuya or Akutagawa did jobs like this, or when you were given one, they took it anyway, just to 'be nice to you'.

But Mori insisted you go, even though he gave you a choice to give it to Chuuya, Akutagawa, or anyone else. Even Chuuya suggested he take the job, not explaining himself, just insisting you let him take it. But this time was different - you were offered this, given an actual chance to be involved with the agency's dealings with the Port Mafia, something you were never given.

Of course you took the job.

You trailed closely behind Mori, following him loyally as you two had walked to the meeting place. If it was held in secret, then why the hell was it outside, anyway?

"[Name]," Mori called to you, turning to meet your eyes. He continued speaking after he knew you were listening. "Fukuzawa-san brought another of his own for the same reason I am bringing you. Just a heads up," Mori cheerfully spoke. Why didn't he tell you beforehand? It didn't matter now, though.

Both you and Mori approached the place to meet with the leader. You could see there was another person with Fukuzawa, but you stood behind Mori, and their upper half had been blocked out. No big deal.

You stepped out from behind your boss, arms crossed above your chest as you eyed the leader of the agency. He looked so kind, a part of you wondered what it'd be like if you were with the agency instead.

But Fukuzawa wasn't the only person you saw.

Standing close behind him was a tall man with dark, wavy chestnut hair, in a long, tan trench coat. He wasn't just any man. That was the familiar face of Osamu Dazai. The youngest executive in the history of the Port Mafia.

And you were his ex-subordinate, right there in front of both. Both of your eyes widened, but you were much more surprised to see Dazai than he was to see you, Like he expected this.

You barely listened to the conversation between Fukuzawa and Mori, only making out a few words - 'Guild', Defeat', 'Fitzgerald', 'Agency', and 'Mafia'. None of them mattered to you as much as they should have. Your eyes flickered between the pavement and Dazai, who stared at you intently, not bothering to hide it. He had an expression that you just couldn't read precisely - it was impossible to tell what he was thinking in the moment. You on the other hand? Your thoughts were clear, a beyond frustrated glare was evident on your face.

It felt like an hour standing there, listening to Mori and Fukuzawa talk, if you could even say you were listening. But it was over only twenty minutes later.

Mori smiled at Fukuzawa, while the other just nodded calmly. Your boss began to walk forward, looking at you to signal you were to walk with him. Fukuzawa and Dazai did the same.

However, when you and Dazai were next to each other, he stopped, turning to look at you. Out of curiosity, you sighed and looked up at him. His eyes were not kind, but a slight smile was etched onto his face. A bandaged hand took your shoulder, and Dazai spoke to you for the first time in years.

"My, how you've grown." Verbal surprise was clear in his voice. Dazai was about to speak again, but you cut him off before he could get a word out. "Don't fucking touch me." The taller brunette sighed, turning his full body towards you this time, not just his head.

He smiled at you, closing his eyes. "You've changed so much. We'll meet again, I'll make sure of it." After finishing his sentence, he began to catch up with Fukuzawa. You stood there, looking at Dazai as he walked off calmly.

While you were upset about how he left you, it wasn't your main concern. Was he not sorry about the way he treated Akutagawa, making you watch as he made him suffer for so long?

Part of you wanted to run after him and punch him, but it wasn't worth it, not now. Even so, the thought seeing him was upsetting, and meeting him again wasn't in your best interest.

[ extra // i'll do a part two sometime later.. it's 3:51am rn lmao km sobingmgkgkgm ]

#dazai x reader #platonic yandere dazai #yandere dazai x reader #bsd x reader #yandere bsd #platonic yandere #klya..anon #yandere dazai osamu #osamu dazai x reader #yandere dazai #yandere osamu dazai #yandere bungou stray dogs #yandere bungo stray dogs #yandere bungo stray dogs x reader #yandere bsd x reader

826 notes · View notes

buckys-little-belle · 18 days

Note

Hiiiii I really love your whole Tumblr it's really comforting I really loved the one you wrote I think it was called just feelin little with bucky and steve and it was really comforting because I don't fully regress other thank cuddling up at night with my blanky and a theeter shaped like an oreo

If your comfortable writing something like that with Eddie Munson like maybe a little that doesn't even understand what that is and one day at he notice that the reader is having a hard time and kinda swoops in and helps. Thanks for listening even if you don't write have a good day (or night :)

Chomp Chomp

Eddie Munson x Little!Reader (They/Them/No pronouns used)

Warnings - Eddie helps the reader regress, use of teethers, use of a comfort blankie, talks about being stressed, talks about de-stressing, reader goes into a state of "disassociation" basically they are very stressed and just stop replying to Eddie's questions, very very vague mentions of that though, a bit of angst, but mainly self-indulgent fluff! (Also I made the teether one of the frozen ones but I'm now realizing that's probably not the kind you meant! So I apologize!)

Notes - I wrote this in a different perspective than I usually do. I just need a break from the more "formal" writing style I usually do and I hope that you like it!

SFW - Please keep all interactions with this post, and this blog, SFW!

. ☆ . ☾ . ☆ . ☽ . ☆ . ☾ . ☆ . ☽ . ☆ .

Eddie knew that you age regressed before you really understood it yourself. He'd taken note of how you sleep with whatever soft blanket you could find at night time, how you often found yourself chewing on ice before bed, and and you'd act like, what you called "snuggly", and what he called "small".

He didn't want to scare you with the big title of "age regression" all at once. So he slowly began incorporating more "classic" age regression tactics to your nightly routine without you realizing it at first.

Instead of a glass full of big ice cubes you'd bite in half, he gave you a plastic cup full of small bat shaped ice cubes. They were easier to chew on, and he liked knowing the cup wouldn't shatter if you dropped it.

Then he bought you a small soft grey blanket at the thrift store. He washed it and made sure it smelled like him before he gave it to you, giving you the impression that it was just laying around somewhere instead of bought for a specific reason.

It became your "Nightie blankie", you nicknamed it and Eddie was once again sure of your regression, or at least partial regression. You slept with it every night, snuggled to your chest, the soft material tickling your chin as you slept.

After a few months of just those two new things he added in a fun nightlight so he could finally turn the bathroom light off. You thought it was cute, it projected a small smattering of stars on the ceiling and it often lulled you to sleep.

Next though, the next step was a little harder to get you acclimated with. "A teething ring?" You asked, holding the small thing in your hand. "It's cold?"

"I put it in the freezer, there's gel inside that gets cold." Eddie reasoned. "This way you don't have to eat so much ice before bed, you can just chomp on this." He gave your forehead a kiss before making the bed. Hoping that if he acted chill about it you would be fine with the new addition.

"But it's for babies?" You grumbled.

Eddie stood up with a huff, his hands on his hips. "Do you like it?" He asked, eyebrows raised.

You took a quick chomp, liking the way the frozen thing felt like ice but wouldn't make you full of water or your hands wet. "I don't know."

"Just try it for tonight, if you hate it I'll give you your ice back." He said it so plainly, like he hadn't given you a kids toy to chomp on.

You ended up enjoying your teether, chomping on it was much easier than eating ice, and you liked the little charms that were attached. It was calming, and Eddie didn't think it was weird, and you trusted him on it.

A year later, with all of your new regression tools in place bedtime seemed easier. Eddie had brought up the idea of age regression a few times, but always in a passive way.

He'd put cartoons on and say things like "Doesn't this make you feel like a kid again?" and "I wish I had some toys to play with." when things got boring at the trailer.

You didn't really understand that he wasn't really feeling like a kid while watching the tv shows, or wishing for toys, he was seeing how you reacted, seeing if you were maybe an age regressor outside of just bedtime.

He didn't push it but he got you a few stuffies, and kept cartoons on often. He didn't want to force you to regress if you didn't need it, or seem to be interested, and you didn't really seem to regress all that young. You seemed to drift to an unknown age that liked teethers, blankies, and night lights, but also liked to humm Metallica songs before bed. You were different, and he enjoyed it.

One day though you seemed on edge. Stressed about something that he couldn't fix, something you couldn't seem to get over. You began worrying him when you sat on the floor and just sort of stared off into space. You weren't panicking anymore, you weren't coping.

So he thought that maybe some regression would help you work through the big emotions in a safer way. So he grabbed your blanket and placed it in your hands, you immediately began to fiddle with it, but still didn't respond when he tried to talk to you about why you were stressed.

So he then turned the lights off, grabbing the small nighlight and brining it to the living room. Now instead of staring off into space your eyes drifted along the ceiling as the stars moved around.

Last but not least he grabbed your teether, placing it in your hand. Like you did at bedtime you began to chomp on it, and Eddie smiled.

"What's going on, baby?" He asked, taking a seat next to you.

"Jus' chomp, chomping." You replied with a soft smile.

"Yeah, and why do you need to chomp chomp?" He said in an animated voice.

Slowly you began to tell him what was bothering you, and slowly he helped you solve the problem, letting you use your regression and comfort items to help keep you calm and collected instead of distant and despondent.

You didn't regress often outside of bedtime, and you didn't really seem to regress to a certain age, but Eddie understood what you needed, and he helped you in his own subtle ways.

#anon #buckys little belle #age regression #age regression fic #little!reader #eddie munson x little!reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x little reader #eddie munson age regression #stranger things #stranger things age regression #age regressor

115 notes · View notes

kyokutsu-sama · 5 months

Note

Hey I've been a huge fan of your blog for a while now and I finally built up the courage to send you a request.🩷

Can you do one with the Black Clover Magic Captains with a s/o who was a foreigner who finally tell them about their original culture that they kept hidden.

For context had to flee here (You can choose why) and while here the people made them on outcast because of their culture, making them hide it leading them to forgetting most of it. (This request is based off Pinkies Gypsy Bard (I've been going back into my MLP phase recently)

I understand it maybe a little too much but I wanted to be as specific as possible 😅

A/n: I'm glad to know this and in any case you are free to send me requests😊

I know it took me a while with this one but I was writing other things and ended up taking a break from Tumblr for a few days, I'm sorry🥲

_____________________________

Yami :

Yami could never judge someone based on their culture or country. Firstly, because he is also a foreigner, secondly because he likes diversity, since the members of his squad are all different from each other. They initially kept it to themselves but when he asks them to talk one day, he ends up asking about their roots and that's when the truth finally comes to light. They confess to the captain that they didn't want to talk about it in front of others because they were afraid of being judged or demoted for having a different culture and that's why they preferred to just say that they were born in the Clover kingdom to hide it. The captain understands the situation and explains that he himself also comes from a foreign country and that he also suffered prejudice because of this, unfortunately. When they see that both the captain and others accept them and their origins, regardless of whether they are different, it makes them more confident.

Fuegoleon :

This captain may even be royalty and show a prestigious image most of the time, but he is very respectful of everyone. Regardless of who tgey are and where they came from. They have hidden their own culture since joining the Crimson Lions because they were afraid of what others would think. Especially because the captain himself is a nobleman and that was already a reason for them not to talk about it. Due to their effort and their recognition little by little, Fuegoleon thought it would be interesting to get to know them better, since he didn't have much knowledge of them. This captain is a very smart man and quickly realizes that they have something that differentiates them from the people of the Clover kingdom and this leads him to question them about where they come from. When they admit that they came from another country, the captain is surprised and asks why they didn't talk about it sooner and that's when they say that they had already suffered prejudice before and were afraid that they would suffer from it again. Captain Vermillion leaves them comfortable with this and says he accepts them no matter what because it doesn't make them less than anyone else and as captain, he promises that he will work so that one day this prejudice will end.

William :

The golden dawn is a prestigious division due to its merits in various missions but the some of the members of that division, tend to treat those who come from villages outside the kingdom or from other countries with disdain, which is completely the opposite of what the captain does, who accepts everyone the way they are. They were glad to be able to wear the uniform of that division but at the same time, the roots of a foreign culture and country, lived in the shadows due to fear of non-acceptance or humiliation. William one day invites them to a casual meeting and they never imagined that the captain would mention the subject they had been hiding for months. Just like Fuegoleon, William managed to notice some details that had escaped from the view of others but not his. They assume that they were afraid of being left out because they were foreigners and for fear that someone might make fun of their culture and if everyone knew it would be a problem. The captain takes off his mask after those words, which leaves them a little surprised by the huge scarred face of the captain in front of them. William reveals to them the fact that he also suffered discrimination in childhood because he was born that way. They ended up feeling more comfortable around the captain because they both share a similar story and William always makes them feel comfortable and accepting of themselves.

Nozel :

Nozel was a noble like Fuegoleon but the only difference is that while Fuegoleon accepted people regardless of whether they came from the commons, Nozel was a little more strict about the person's status. What made them hide the fact that they came from outside the kingdom and hide everything that could give clues about where they came from. The captain was also not completely prejudiced about status or origin, he also knew how to recognize someone strong and with skills that could be advantageous to his squad and in defense of the Silva house. When faced with this potential coming from them, the captain is aware that that strength is the only thing that makes them stand out and this makes him want to know more about their origins and past. Nozel calls them into the office and can see some nervousness and fear in their eyes. The captain tries not to be too direct or too serious to be able to put them at ease, in order to find out what he needs to know. They, although scared, tell the captain about how they were devalued by members of royalty previously, due to their different culture and that they didn't want to tell them before, for fear of the captain expelling them from the division just for that. Nozel thought for a moment and came to the conclusion that, deep down, royalty could be much worse than the common people when they wanted, and it was not something to be proud of. They were more relieved when Nozel promised that he would keep their origins a secret but that they must continue to strive every day so that they could be proud of their own roots just as he does every day to keep the Silva name clean.

#Black clover #black clover x reader #black clover fandom #black clover headcanons #black clover anime #yami sukehiro #Fuegoleon Vermillion #Nozel Silva #william vangeance #headcanons

59 notes · View notes

louisisalarrie · 2 months

Note

Why do you think some larries like the idea of hl broken up in 2013 or 2016? I joined the fandom in 2017-18 and read back popular bloggers at that moment and everyone was convinced that they have been together, and some even were sure that Harry was very supportive in 2016 and did his best for Louis. Last few years I see more and more bloggers thinking differently. Have you ever changed your mind about hl and break ups?

hellooooo anon! welcome to the show x

a lot of the bigger blogs somewhat gave up hope, and started to fall off tumblr anyway because it wasn’t the platform it once was. The dynamic of this fandom is so different now, and visibly shifted after the band went on hiatus. The closeting got more and more aggressive over time, obviously, and then once the band split it was hard to keep on larrying because we weren’t getting content of them. And that’s the main thing I think has subconsciously or consciously swayed folks from believing they’re still together. It was mainly the hiatus.

Now, the hiatus was important in terms of contracts and stunts and we had so much hope that because they were no longer “one direction”, we’d see a large shift in stunts and the boys hanging out together, and perhaps a bit of optimism for a CO. we tried to make the best out of a very sad situation lol, but it made sense. They could be more free since they were both solo and with different teams.

However, we just didnt get what we hoped for. We didn’t see them reconnecting and we didn’t get to see them both being in the same place staring at each other with the same love in their eyes that they had in 2011, because they weren’t required to be. No band, meant no obligations together. So without the constant proof and subtle looks and brushes of their arms and giddiness, it was hard to keep up supporting them. It felt somewhat pointless because we didn’t see an end to it. It was just hoping they were seen together or we’d get SOMETHING, and we got and are still getting little tidbits, but it’s not the same amount of proof as before so people kind of fell off the wagon.

To be honest, I took a step back after 2017 because Tumblr wasn’t pumping as much as it used to, and my life got in the way. Unless something major happened, I was pretty MIA, unfortunately. But I’ve been back fully for a couple years now, which I’m happy about. But it’s easy to shift ideas when you aren’t getting photo and video evidence of them being loved up, ya know? The stunts didn’t stop after 1d. BBG didn’t end. We all bet so much on at least a couple of stunts dropping when they went on hiatus but it just didn’t happen. We were, and still are, caught in this closeting game of PR moves and bullshit tweets and gift baskets for a kid that isn’t Louis’. ANYWAY

Those are the reasons behind a lot of doubt that larry are still together. So, what do I think?

Well, I think that theorising about their breakups is just entirely unproductive for the cause that we’re fighting for. It feels almost… fanfic-esque, and like, I still see people calling themselves casual larries and believe they were together at one point and that’s why they still fight for their freedom, because of what they went through as kids and even their closeting now, but I just… don’t think it should be a theory that people try and convince others of. That’s not what larries are about. If you think they’ve broken up, cool, don’t come on here and try to prove to everyone why, because that’s just… silly. It’s almost an anti move, which a lot of old larries have shifted to, mind you, because of these theories of break ups and very little proof with a whole lot of reaching (sometimes) on our end at the moment.

It’s an argument a lot of people use, like theorising that they’re in an ethical non monogamous relationship, or aren’t together anymore but fuck casually, or genuinely hate each other, or they aren’t together anymore and they’re dating other people (some examples being stunts, some being completely wild theories), and yeah, it comes down to song lyrics and lack of proof otherwise that they’re still together.

A lot of L and H’s songs do have connotations of breakups, or getting back together, or being separated etc., and I see a lot of Larries say “oh well they must have broken up at some point like any relationship, they’re not perfect, but they’re together now” etc., which is great, fine, and normal because being with someone for like 13 years in those jobs is hard work. But I truly think it’s unproductive to theorise on shit like that, as Larries. It gives antis ammo, and I think it comes out of boredom. Because let’s be honest, us and many solos (except the niall solos rn they living it UP), aren’t getting a whole lot right now, larry or otherwise. Harry’s basically MIA, we saw louis and Harry both at the euros in the same photo, louis is doing a few more festivals before a break (god that’s gonna hurt), and so… idk. We’re all itching for something. We used to get new content every day back in the day, but we just aren’t getting it. Which is fine, I don’t expect that these days, but damn, throw us a bone lol.

Some folks like to believe that larry themselves are choosing to keep their relationship private for now, because they want to. That’s fine. Others believe they are still being heavily closeted. That’s fine. What we’re fighting for is the love between two dudes, regardless of whether they have broken up somewhere in between, because we want justice for them and a change in the industry.

Anyway, my belief is that they’re together now, and that’s all that matters. We could go into deep theories and shit about body language changes and attitudes and fighting in 2015/2016 or whatever, but I just don’t think it’s productive, or that simple.

Listen, if I was in that situation, like… it’d be fucking hard to give up after how hard you fought for this person, that love just doesn’t go away. Being that age as well, it’s deep in your soul when you feel it. So I really do think that it isn’t as simple as that. I think it probably got messy at times, frustrating sure, but I’m not going to theorise on that.

And that’s not me being ignorant about relationships and how they can fluctuate and fights happen and breaks happen and I’m sure those two went through hell, but I just don’t see them giving up on each other that easily.

Anyway, hope this gives you a little insight into my brain and what I think about this. You can check out skepticalarrie’s ‘they never broke up’ tag if you like, and I’ll have this in my pinned post for reference to what I think about breakup rumours etc as #still together still going strong.

Let me know if any other q’s or if this ramble needs some clarifying hehe. Thank you! <3

#anon #answered #still together still going strong #mention of bbg

27 notes · View notes

cherrycolacigs · 7 months

Text

Toxic

-Cedric Diggory x female reader-

This was anonymously requested and the original request I already answered to if you want to read it just scroll down on my blog. Thank you anon for requesting and I'm sorry this took so long! I feel like this isn't my best writing but I tried my best! :)

Warnings: probably a few errors, possessiveness, out of character Cedric, use of Y/N, toxic relationship, that is pretty much it lol

Word count: 2436

Prologue:

Cedric Diggory was always seen as a charming, popular and handsome boy. And while all of those things were true to describe him, he had a different side that few knew about. The closest anyone had gotten to understanding his true character was probably Lee Jordan or the Weasley twins, and even then, they didnt know much. No one knew who he was. That was until he met you. Behind that handsome mask was a dark person who could be merciless and manipulative, who wouldn’t hesitate to get back at someone who would cross him, and little did you know, you would be the person to remove that mask and witness who he really was.

┌── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┐

It was the beginning of a new school year and the hallways of Hogwarts were filled with a sea of red, green, yellow and blue as students bustled off to the Great Hall for the sorting hat ceremony. You smiled as the group of anxious and small first years passed you, being lead by the headmistress Mcgonagall. It brought you back to when you were a first year yourself, your stomach fluttering in a mixture of excitment and nervousness as to what house you would be sorted into.It had turned out that you were a Gryffindor, the house of the brave and bold. It surprised many, including yourself because you had never seemed to be one of them.

You walked into the gathering place, your eyes scanning the floods of students being hearded into the right direction by prefects and professors as you made your way to your seat. You then felt yourself being practially bulldozed over as a group of rowdy Slytherin boys tried pushing through the group of you and your fellow Gryffindors. It was loud and chaotic and you were becoming slightly disoriented as you were shoved to the side, accidentally falling into the arms of someone.

It had happened quickly though to you it felt like it was almost in slow motion. The strong arms steadied you, helping you to your feet. You looked up, being met with the face of Cedric Diggory. You internally groaned, your eyes locking with quite literally the most popular boy in school. Sure, he seemed nice and helpful but for some reason you didnt trust him, like something else was going on with that boy. No one could be that perfect.

“Are you alright?” Cedric asked, letting go of you after a moment. You forced a polite smile and nodded.

“Yes, thank you,” you replied, breaking eye contact for a moment. The way his intense eyes seemed to study you made you uncomfortable.

“I haven't seen you around here before, whats your name?” he inquired, letting the other people pass you by as you stood there in the middle of the hall. You had to fight the urge to roll your eyes. Of course you knew who he was, but why hadn’t he noticed you before? You were only a year under him, he shouldve at least known who you were, popular or not.

“Y/N L/N,” you said simply, extending your hand to shake, you didnt want to really, but it was the socially expcted thing to do. “But of course I already know who you are,” you added.

He took your hand, shaking it firmly as he stared into your soul.

“It’s nice to meet you.”

He then gave a nod, returning to leading the younger students to their seats so the ceremony could begin. You made it to your table, feeling his eyes on you still, even across the hall.

From that point on, you had caught Cedric’s interest. You were different. And he had every intention of peeling back all of your layers and finding out everything about you. You drew yourself out of anyone, unlike him, who's still went along with what everyone else wanted him to be.

The weeks went on since your first meeting and Cedric suddenly was everywhere, which you found odd because the years before you scarcely saw him, and of course he had never saw you in return. It had become a habit for him to observe you whenever he saw you, like you would a specimen in a jar, and he had no idea why it had taken him so long to do so.

You noticed this however, how his gaze would linger on you, whether you were in class or the quidditch pitch, or the hallways of the castle. Was he seeking you out? Or was it just fate that you both happened to be in the same place so often?

After a while Cedric had decided he wanted to be with you, to uncover who you really were. You knew this, however and tried your hardest to stay as far away as possible from him, but he wouldnt give it up, he would persist.

It was a chilly autumn morning, the breeze was lightly blowing and the skies were painted a dull light grey. You stood outside, leaning against a tree as other students quiet chatter scattered throughout the courtyard. You let out a sigh of relief, Cedric being nowhere in sight. In fact, you hadn't seen him in days. Maybe he had given up, realized it wasnt worth it, and forgot about you. But you were wrong. It was the opposite. He had spent days holed up in his dorm, thinking about how he would go about with his plan. You would be his; he was sure of it, but he wasnt sure how yet. But today was the perfect day to make you his. You were alone, not using your friends as a way for him to never come up to you.

You let out a breath, your breath visible and swirling in the cold air as you pulled your sweater around you more. You then looked up, seeing the person you had been avoiding for weeks starting to approach you. You groaned, planning your escape exit as he drew nearer, but before you could slip away, he had cornered you.

“Hello,” he greeted casually, shoving his hands into his pockets and smirking down at you.

“What do you want?” you asked in exasperation, looking up at him. His brown hair was tousled and the cold weather had made his pale skin flush, his nose and cheeks slightly pink, giving him even more of the boyish charm that drove you crazy, and not in the good way. You had to admit, he was handsome, even though he had been silently bothering you for weeks.

He chuckled, gazing down at you with a grin.

“I want you to be my girlfriend,” Cedric said, his tone confident as you stood there baffled.

“You what?” you asked, feeling taken aback by how he said it, like it wasnt a request.

“You heard me.”

You stood there in shock, silent for a moment, turning your nose to the ground as you went over his proposition in your mind. He took your chin in his forefinger and thumb, making you look back up at him. The other students had begin to stare, quietly whispering amongst themselves.

“Come on Y/N, you wouldn’t want to cause a scene now would you?” he inquired, his eyes glinting as if daring you to challenge him.

You sighed.

Being with him couldnt be all that bad… could it?

You nodded.

“Alright,” you agreed.

The boy smiled widey, not even trying to hide the victorious pride he felt. He had finally done it. He had you.

“We should get going then, hm darling?” he asked smoothly, wrapping an arm around you.

It turned out being together wasnt all that bad. You two had gotten along quite nicely, and you had to admit, he was a good boyfriend, when he wasnt being possessive. You had noticed that trait of his as your relationship continued, and it caused problems sometimes. He also tended to act childish around you, something that you didnt expect from him. And you weren’t sure why, but you often doted on him, you couldn’t help it. He had sucked you in.

Cedric knocked on your door one day, brows furrowed and a look of anger on his face as he waited for you to come out of your dorm.

“Y/N!” he called out, knocking on your door again.

You sighed, getting up from your desk and walking over to your door, opening it for him.

“What is it now Ced?” you asked, crossing your arms as he pushed past you into your dorm.

“We need to talk,”he growled, looking down at you intensely as he shut the door with a click.

You raised an eyebrow, not planning on backing down.

“About what?” you asked, sitting down on your bed.

He laughed harshly and shook his head.

“About your little friend,” he spat, frowning down at you. You tilted your head in confusion, not knowing what he was on about until it all clicked in your head. “You've been spending quite a bit of time with Neville Longbottom have you not?”

You scoffed and shook your head.

“Cedric I have explained to you so many times, we are just friends-” you tried explaining but he cut you off.

“Friends eh? Rumor has it, he has a little crush on you,” he muttered, brushing his thumb over your lower lip.

“Since when do you believe rumors?” you pressed, jerking your face away from his hand, making him even more irritated.

“Since I see the way that git looks at you whenever your around!” he snapped, raising his voice slightly, his nostrils flaring.

“I cant take this anymore! You are the most possessive person I've ever met and I'm tired of dealing with it day after day!” you exclaimed, slamming your palm down on the mattress angrily.

His jaw clenched and he grabbed your face, pulling it towards his.

“Im possesive because I know whats mine and I’ll die before its ever taken from me,” he snarled, his eyes burning into yours.

You laughed coldly and pushed him away.

“That’s too bad because I'm not yours and I’m done with this!” you retorted, your eyes welling with frustrated tears. “Your behaviour is hurting this relationship and everyone else around us!”

Cedric retreated, fists clenched at his sides and his chest heaving. He couldn’t believe it. You were breaking up with him. Or trying to at least. He was scarily quiet before he turned on his heels and stomped off, slamming the door behind him.

The weeks that followed were miserable. Coldness had grown between you two and it was as if you had ever been together at all.

You walked through the quidditch pitch alone, broom in hand as you looked up at the sky. It was a good day for flying and Merlin, you needed to clear your head. You set off, the wind hitting your face and blowing back your hair as you flew over the castle, admiring the beauty of Hogwarts below you. All was well for a few moments until you noticed three figures in the sky as well on their brooms, you thought nothing of it until they became closer and you realized who exactly it was. In your years of being a Gryffindor you had made some enemies, particularly a group of Slytherin girls who had made your life hell since your first year.

This was the last thing you needed so you took a turn in the opposite direction, hoping they had not yet seen you and you could quickly escape. Unfortunately they had spotted you already and you were their target. You glanced behind you, flying faster as the main girl had a smug sneer on her face, her eyes narrowing as she drew closer, her two friends beginning to circle you on your broom. You were outnumbered. It all happened so quickly, the sound of laughter rang through your ears and you felt yourself being pushed and shoved in multiple directions in the sky.

Before you could do anything, you slipped off your broom, falling through the air.

All you could sense was the rush of air through your hair, hitting your face, your eyes watering as your body prepared to hit the ground. You couldn’t hear anything except for your heartbeat wildly pounding in your chest and you prayed that someone, anyone, would be there to catch you.

Then everything went black.

Cedric was in the hospital wing, sitting down next you as you rested. He had found out about the accident from the swarm of students that had surrounded your unconscious body on the ground as a prefect rushed to alert Madam Pomfrey.

He was angry. Very angry. Not at you, but at the people who had dared to ever hurt you. He stared at your face, brushing a lock of hair behind your ear. His expression softened, realizing the reason why he liked you and how happy you truly made him. It wasn't because of how you could be yourself, but because you had never expected anything of him. Unlike his father, unlike everyone else. You accepted the other side of him despite seeing it enough times that could cause you to push him away.

He thought about taking revenge on the girls who had caused this but he decided against it, knowing that you wouldn’t like that. He stayed there for a long time, waiting for you to wake up.

Your eyes fluttered open ,and you felt slightly disoriented, looking around the hospital in confusion. You then locked eyes with Cedric, feeling your heartbeat quicken in surprise that he was there after everthing that happened between you both.

“You're awake,” he muttured, lightly stroking your hand.

You started crying, causing him to look at you in worry and bewilderment at your sudden outburst of tears.

“Hey, hey hey, whats wrong?” he asked, his eyes searching your face for answers.

“I’m- I’m worried that you won't ever be by m-my side anymore, and I’ll be so lonely if I’m left behind again,” you confessed, tears falling down your face. This shocked him and he pulled you into his arms, whispering words of comfort. Cedric realized you both, in fact, very lonely but in different ways, and this just showed it to him.

“I’ll never leave you,” he promised, hushing your sobs and wiping the salty tears off your face.

You smiled tearfully up at him and nodded.

“I’ll never leave you either.”

You knew you were toxic. You both did. But you didn’t care anymore. You could work on it… right?

#cherrycolacigs #cedric diggory imagine #harry potter #cedric x reader #cedric diggory x female reader #cedric diggory x reader #anon ask #anonymous #toxic relationship #anon

52 notes · View notes

physalian · 25 days

Text

On self-publishing, and why I did it

Based on the research that I have done, following other indie authors across multiple platforms, I think I've made an approach to this that is a lot less... shall we say, *intense* than people make it out to be? I've seen some YouTube videos acting like picking one route or the other might be the worst mistake of your author career.

I mean, I guess?

Back a few years ago I had a manuscript I was querying around and couldn't find any takers. Couldn't find any publishing houses that were accepting open submissions to pick up my manuscript either. So many of them had clauses in the application verifying that you were submitting to them and only to them and to expect a reply within 8-10 months. Coooool.

I did not have time for that.

—

The manuscript I had was 120k words. Baby’s first novel sitting at 120k words is not attractive to publishing houses. It’s a risk. I was younger and didn’t know much about finding an agent and all that jazz, so I had looked into self-publishing and was staring down an editor bill of about $3k minimum because of my word count. I did not have the money for that.

So that manuscript got shelved, meanwhile I wrote the sequel and got halfway through book 3 before writer’s block took hold.

Enter February 2024. I have an idea for a new book. 31 days later, I have that book’s first draft done—Eternal Night of the Northern Sky, on sale from draft to publication in seven months.

This time, I didn’t consider for one second trying the traditionally published route. ENNS is 111k words, it’s a doorstopper of a book, but the bulk wasn’t the only reason I decided to bootstrap myself to the finish line.

I wanted complete, absolute creative control every step of the way

If I have to market myself anyway, why am I splitting profit with a publishing house?

I *really* don’t have time to wait around hoping the right person sees my manuscript. I have a new job coming that’s going to eat up all my free time and could either delay ENNS a year or more, or get it out while I still had time to do so

I didn’t do this for money

I think that’s what makes so many of those rather intense arguments for one or the other so harrowing—the pressure is a lot higher if you invested all this time, money, and effort expecting returns to break even, if not actually turn a profit. Publishing with a publisher doesn’t guarantee people will buy your book, mind you, but it’s a helping hand nonetheless. If I even want to break even, let's say just on royalties from the ebook, I'd have to sell over a thousand copies.

Breaking down my above points:

I’m a firm believer in “if you want something done right, you do it yourself,” which does bite me in the ass from time to time, this I know. I didn’t want to get caught up in contracts or editors telling me what I could and couldn’t do or what I had to change. If ENNS fails, I will have no one to blame but myself, and I am at peace with this. If ENNS fails, and I’d gone through the trouble of signing my book’s soul away to a publisher, then I’d probably be a little resentful. 100% of ENNS is mine, even the cover. I had an image in my head of what I wanted the cover to look like, and I sat down and I drew it and it matches perfectly. Aside from the feedback implemented from betas and editors, my story is told the way I wanted to tell it. If it fails, I am at peace with this.

On marketing, I am not a person who does well with social media. Maybe it’s autism, idk, but trying to keep up with an Instagram is exhausting. I just don’t get anything from tiny text posts and blurbs and doomscrolling through influencers and advertisements. Social Media is, for me, exhausting. Tumblr is different, because writing is my strong point and this blog exists to share and curate something useful. But either way, I’d have to market this book alone, so why not do so with full creative control? If it fails, I am at peace with this.

I have a new job coming very quickly. My current job allows me about 5 hours of free time during my 8 hour shift on a good day not including the time outside work, and I work from home. ENNS was written in 31 days thanks to this job. The new one? Not so much. Seeing “please allow 8-10 months” and “please ensure this is an exclusive submission” on so many little publishing houses, and I did search far and wide, was incredibly disheartening. For me, personally, it wasn’t worth the gamble of waiting all that time, following the rules, and being told no or just being flat-out ghosted. Nor did I want to sit around querying agents into the void. This time, I didn’t have time to sift through agents. ENNS had to get out on the shelves as quickly as I could get it, and all that time (five goddamn months of editing, 500% of the time it took to write it) was spent perfecting the manuscript that it is, *not* waiting around trying to find an agent. If it fails, I am at peace with this.

And lastly, I don’t care if I make absolutely nothing from this book. I didn’t do it for the money, I did it to say I could. I have a day job, and I’m about to have a much higher paying day job. Maybe I’m lucky enough to have that, but I am under no illusions that putting in the hard work guarantees success. Success as an author is a crapshoot and being an amazing book is not the metric sales are measured in, if no one wants to read it. I’d like to make money, I didn’t do it for charity. It’s going to be priced exactly the same as another fantasy book of its caliber. But if only one person buys it, and finds something good from it, something in it that changes their life, then I will have succeeded, profit be damned. If all else fails, I am at peace with this.

—

This is not a post meant to sway people one way or the other. I know I didn’t do enough research or scour the internet hard enough to find a good agent. All of this is irrelevant when time was the most important factor in my debut novel. I was in a position where I could drop that $3k on an editor, so I did. I’m a capable enough artist to draw my own cover, so I did. I might be abysmal at managing social accounts, but less than a year ago this blog didn’t exist and it has over 5k reblogs and 950 followers and I think that’s pretty swell.

I’m 25 years old. I was not about to let it keep sitting around waiting for the golden opportunity with the perfect publishing house that might not have been coming. I had the means and motive to get it done, and by god, I did it.

If it fails, at least I can say that I failed trying. I am at peace with this.

—

Eternal Night of the Northern Sky is available now on Amazon in ebook and paperback! It is also available through your local bookstore.

Check it out on Goodreads!

#writing #writing a book #writeblr #writing advice #writing resources #writing tools #writing tips #self publishing #self publication #indie author #publishing

20 notes · View notes

ilovecoelacanths · 11 months

Text

This is a story about a book that changed my life.

It's also about how amazing libraries and authors and people who care about sharing cool things with curious kids are. Also, fish (especially fish). It's kind of different than what I usually post but it's been bouncing around in my head basically since I started this blog so here you go, I hope you like it. This is the reason I love coelacanths so much, and why I think everyone should know about how amazing they are.

When I was little, I loved going to the library. My little brother and I would pick out way too many books and the librarians always had to come over to override the 30 book limit at the checkout stand (they pretty much knew us on sight and were ready to override it as soon as we started heading over to check out). After we finished getting our library books, our mom also let us look through the free pile that was in the foyer on the way out. It was mostly old library books that the librarians just needed to clean out, but there were a lot of books that people brought when they cleaned out their personal collections too (especially teachers, and there were a bunch of books with old school library stamps inside). The free pile didn't usually have a lot of things that interested me, but one day when I was poking through it I found a book called Fossil Fish Found Alive: Discovering the Coelacanth, by Sally M. Walker.

I loved it. I had never even heard of coelacanths before, but this book fascinated me. It told the story of an incredible animal, long thought to be extinct, that had somehow survived for millions of years! It was nothing like any fish I had ever learned about before. I already had a casual interest in marine biology that I can thank PBS Kids and Wild Kratts for (particularly their episode on sperm whales and giant squid, I loved that episode), but this book took it to a new level. I wanted to be a marine biologist so I could learn more about coelacanths.

Like a lot of things when you're 7, that was a phase. Unlike a lot of phases, this one I came back to. After taking a break from my dreams of being a marine biologist to experience the hell that is middle school, one day I pulled a book off my shelf. I hadn't read it in a while. When I picked it up again, I remembered how incredible this animal was, and how much it had inspired me when I was younger, and those thoughts of becoming a marine biologist started to return. I'm in college now studying marine science, and I brought the book with me to school, where it sits next to two other science books that have inspired me (My Friends the Wild Chimpanzees by Jane Goodall and The Sea Around Us by Rachel Carson).

Earlier this year, I was thinking about how much this one book had changed my life and I wondered if I could find Ms. Walker and thank her. I knew she had many other science books for younger audiences, and even another book about coelacanths, so I was sure she had a website of some kind, and I was right. So I found her contact page and wrote her an email explaining the impact her book had had on my life, and thanking her for it. And to my surprise, she responded! She was very kind and we sent a few emails back and forth. She gave me some excellent advice and even told me about some of the people she contacted while researching her book, including Marjorie Courtenay-Latimer herself, the person who rediscovered the coelacanth when it was thought to be extinct! I'll never forget how she took the time to respond to me and how encouraging she was.

But Ms. Walker isn't the only one I have to thank for pointing me toward the path I'm on right now. If I hadn't already loved reading, if I hadn't seen any show or video to make me interested in marine biology, if the library didn't have a pile of books for anyone to take home, if I had lost that book during one of our many moves as a kid, I don't know what I'd be doing right now. There were a lot of things that happened to make it so that I found this book, but I'm glad for every single one of them. They led to me learning about an incredible animal and changed the course of my life. And now, I love coelacanths.

#long post #bee talks #my post #coelacanth #i love coelacanths #omg guys its the long awaited ilovecoelacanths backstory post #it came out kinda sappy lmao but whatever im gonna post it even though its so cheesy #ugh i hate being genuine and showing emotion on the internet it makes me feel so cringe. but whatever. cringe is dead so #also wow look at that i actually CAN use real grammar when i want to #not a single smiley face emoticon in this whole post. why did i do that. i like my little guys #here. here's one. :]

108 notes · View notes

terresdebrume · 2 months

Text

Managed to give myself a headache working on that down on my knees update this morning (I think it only worked bc letters are easy and the first draft had come out pretty satisfying already) but fortunately the phone has better eye protection tools so we're doing this

Also if you want to read the rest of these they're under Messrs Payne and Rowland's Adventuring Agency on my blog

They take Crystal along to what they call preliminary interviews. The Agency is apparently a bit of a pain to maintain if no one is inside, and neither Charles nor Mr. Payne want to leave her alone in there, the first because he's afraid she'll get bored, and the second because he doesn't trust her with his things. Crystal, who doesn't have anything particular to do anyway, follows them with minimal resistance.

"Keep in mind," Mr. Payne tells her over his shoulder as they make their way to the crowded streets, "that we will be dealing with fairly desperate people. There is a balance we must keep between allowing them to have hope and acknowledging that the world is sometimes very unfair."

"That's bleak," Crystal says. "You think the girl could be dead?"

"I think children under the age of twelve are rarely prepared to survive on their own for a few days. She may be safe and sound, but every hour that passes makes that hope flimsier."

"Most of this type of cases involve some kind of accident," Charles says, smiling at a baker who offers to seel him pastries for cheap. "Kid goes somewhere they're used to go, only that time the faulty floorboard breaks, or they slide on the wobbly stone, that sort of things. When I was a kid, my mates and I used to play around an abandoned temple. Did that for years without any issue, 'til one day little Daniel got stuck in his favorite hide and seek spot and it took a whole afternoon to dig him out."

Crystal nods. It doesn't resonate, this image of kids roaming around unsupervised, doing whatever they want the whole day and only calling adults if something serious happened. Then again, if Charles and Mr. Payne are correct and she's from a rich family, she imagines there would have been people whose entire job revolved around watching her. She would have had a different childhood.

"The point being that it is too soon to make conjectures as to Rebecca Aspen's location or status, and we cannot allow hypotheses based on empty air to influence a first interview. For this reason, you must absolutely remain silent while we discuss the situation with the parents, is that clear?"

Crystal frowns and turns to Charles, but finds no help there.

"If you notice something odd or you have a question you can ask me, yeah? But we do have a solid process here and until you know more about the job it's probably best if you observe."

"Okay," Crystal says after a long hesitation.

She doesn't like the idea of sitting on her hands, but Charles' argument makes sense, and she's a teenager anyway. The potential clients will probably listen to the adults more than her.

She is, by and large, right about this assessment... But only until she has the vision.

#dead boy detectives #crystal palace #charles rowland #edwin payne #dbda fanfic #matt writes #10n #fic: the arrival of young crystal #s: Messrs Payne and Rowland's Adventuring Agency #20n

20 notes · View notes

totkdaily · 3 months

Text

What Next?

He did it! It took Link 112 days to save Princess Zelda in Tears of the Kingdom.

Thank you so much to everyone who's followed this journey, particularly after I had to take a break in the middle. It was reading your tags and comments that motivated me to come back sooner than I'd planned, and I'm really proud of myself for seeing through such a bonkers project. The whole thing clocks in at around 47,000 words, and that's not including all the image descriptions. Of course, this game has its flaws - it is such a shame the Imprisoning War stories aren't more varied. But it's absolutely gorgeous, and it's those skies and landscapes that keep me coming back.

There's plenty I didn't even get to in those 112 days! I hadn't seen the dagger memory (WILD to not have that snippet of information going into the endgame), I hadn't saved Lurelin from pirates, I hadn't visited all the Skyview Towers (missed out the Tabantha Snowfields one), or unlocked the Travel Medallions. I think there was a couple of stables I didn't visit, and I definitely didn't hunt down all the Yiga bases on the surface. Not to mention shrines, koroks, signposts, armor... Almost four in-game months, and though I've completed the story I've still got plenty of excuses to keep exploring Hyrule.

So what now?

I won't be doing this again any time soon! Part of me wonders how long it would take in Breath of the Wild, but I think there's a major difference between the games which would make it a less rewarding project: BOTW Link doesn't remember Zelda. I always felt less committed to saving the Princess in BOTW, at least until I'd recovered the memories. And it was Link's connection to Zelda from the beginning, I felt, that drove much of the TOTK Daily project.

I won't be keeping up the daily posting for obvious reasons, but I will keep the blog name for archival purposes. Maybe I should pin this post as an explanation for that.

I do have a few ideas for posts, here and there. I'd like to celebrate the beautiful landscape - maybe recommending or reviewing locations as one might to tourists? I will be a little sporadic about it, as inspiration strikes - at the moment I'm very much enjoying exploring this game again in a less goal-orientated way.

Thank you again to everyone who has supported this project! I'm so pleased to have seen it through, and I hope you found the conclusion as satisfying as I did.

#legend of zelda #loz #zelda #totkdaily #totk

22 notes · View notes

starrysnowdrop · 4 months

Text

Why Hali/Aymeric?

This is something that I’ve been wanting to write up for a long time now, and I’ve finally been able to get my thoughts down properly. For those who have been around for a while might be used to my ship by now and can see how their chemistry is, but I know I have some newer followers that might be interested in this explanation. Or perhaps you’re just curious even though you’ve been here forever. Either way, I thank you in advance for taking your time to read this! See under the cut below.

Updated: 09/21/2024

So, you might or might not know that Hali is actually not my first WoL OC. Before Hali, I had made an Auri Hingan Samurai woman named Yume Aino, whom I first created back in 2019, shortly after the release of Shadowbringers (Yume’s blog can be found here: @firelightmuse). I didn’t realize it at first, but because of how I had written Yume, as a stoic, no nonsense warrior through and through, but also someone who was dealing with a lot of trauma and trying to find purpose in her life, I soon had a really hard time shipping her with anyone. Over the years I had tried shipping Yume with Cid, G’raha, and I briefly thought of Artoirel, but I now have found her perfect ship with Zenos. Before any of them, however, my first choice of an NPC ship was Aymeric.

Why Aymeric? Well, it took me quite a while to realize that a huge part of me wanting to ship Yume with Aymeric as a first choice was a very personal one. Aymeric was the first character in FFXIV that I completely fell for. Though I enjoyed the characters of Cid, Haurchefant, and G’raha in ARR, it wasn’t until we meet Aymeric in the Pre-HW patches that I had gotten attached to the world and the story through finding a favorite character of my own. Aymeric is so special to me, and that made me try to ship my only WoL at the time with him. But as you can see, that ultimately didn’t work out.

It didn’t work out because Yume and Aymeric didn’t vibe well with each other. There was a severe lack of chemistry between the two. I had realized that Aymeric is much too polite and respectful of decorum to break Yume out of her shell to make a deeper connection than just comrades that respect one another, and I didn’t think Yume was the kind of person that Aymeric would come to love either, as she would likely remind him of the many Ishgardian nobles that he was around all the time, for many reasons which I won’t elaborate on here due to brevity. And as I didn’t have any other OCs at the time, I just continued developing Yume and an NPC ship with Aymeric was discarded. Although I personally was very saddened by that, I thought it was the right decision for both characters.

Yet, I continued having trouble writing any kind of ship with Yume over time. After a few years, as I kept getting frustrated with the ships I was trying to write for her, I got inspired to make another WoL OC that would be different from Yume in every way. She actually would end up being much more of a self insert than I ever expected, but nonetheless I fell in love with the pink haired, happy go lucky Lalafellin woman who would become Hali Aloke, my pride and joy.

As I got Hali through base ARR and into the ARR patches, I didn’t have any intention on trying to ship her Aymeric and to try a WoL x NPC ship with him a second time, as I actually had intentions to ship Hali with Krile later on in her WoL journey.

But everything changed once Hali met Aymeric in 2.4, the lead up to Heavensward. I saw them in the cutscenes together, and as ridiculous of a height difference they had, I still couldn’t help but giggle and squeal whenever they were together. They just were incredibly adorable, and I couldn’t hold myself back. I just had to try to ship Hali with Aymeric.

So I decided to try to write a few prompts with them together and see how their dynamic was. And it was even better than I had expected. Their chemistry was so amazing, and the dialogue between them flowed quite effortlessly. Not only was I highly impressed and kept getting inspired to write more and more, but I got a ton of positive feedback from so many people telling me that they loved Hali and Aymeric together.

And I guess that was that. I have never looked back since. Hali x Aymeric are my everything (well besides Yume x Zenos now of course); my ship makes me so damn happy. Just looking at them makes me smile and want to write and gpose more. I can’t get enough of them. It’s to the point now that I don’t know if I could ever write a ship better than Hali x Aymeric. And you know what? I don’t even want to try at this point.

I still can’t fully comprehend how a pink haired, bubbly, sunshine of a lalafellin woman and a noble, brave, and charismatic Ishgardian knight could be such a beautiful and dynamic couple that would not only bring me endless joy but also keep inspiring me far more than anything else I’ve ever written. It is utterly beyond my comprehension, but somehow it works. And I am forever grateful that I just followed my heart and wrote what I wanted, and not for anyone else’s approval, but my own.

I somehow hope this helps inspire someone out there to not be afraid and just go for the ship they want to write for, despite what the fandom at large says. Trust me, it’s worth it.

#ffxiv headcanons #aymeric x wol #wol x aymeric #wolaymeric #hali aloke #oc: drops or jupiter #hali x aymeric #ship: hold me closer

35 notes · View notes

yanderemommabean · 1 year

Note

🫣Been looking at your blog for a minute, can I request a Jacob Seed X GN!Dep reader.

Maybe they managed to escape his grasp injured and they’re desperately trying to escape? (One-shot.)

You can sway it whichever way you’d like

thank you <3

“Honestly, this is just another sign that you’re one of the strongest” Jacobs voice rings, your head pounding as you collide with the ground and feel your already broken arm throb and pulse in pain. Shit. You should’ve known escape would be impossible, especially considering that his followers have captured you countless times before with ease when you tore down their monuments and food trucks.

“Injured yet still fighting. It’s admirable, if it wasn’t an attempt to get away from me. Wish you’d’ve at least given me a kiss goodbye” he mocks, standing over you as you cough and wince, grimacing in pain as dirt digs into your skin and the grass makes you itch, your broken arm swelling more and making you nauseated. Shit, You were right in the beast's maw at this point, about to be devoured in whatever wicked metaphor the author of this story decides to use.

His large frame covers yours as he sits on your waist, examining you with a smug expression, knowing he’s won yet another escape chase. Why do you keep trying at this point? He’s highly skilled at tracking and hunting, why do you think you can outdo him at all? Clearly this isn’t working.

“Yep, that’s broken” he states dryly, tugging you up by your shirt, tossing you over his shoulder once he got a good grasp on your body. “That wouldn’t have happened if you’d have just listened and let me take care of you. But it’s alright, in a way, you being injured like this is a great way to show how good I can treat you. Unless, you want to be put through training again? I can always break out the music box…” he trails off, a few men walking behind him with guns to make sure you stay in line.

“That’s not a bad idea actually. Maybe I can condition you differently, just a different song with a different purpose. We’ll see once I get you back to base, better tied up than last time” he says with a chuckle, slapping your ass as he carries you down a hill, nodding to the peggies behind him to keep watch and only aim if necessary.

You stay silent during all of this, not able to focus enough to make a comment let alone try and escape again. Blood was pouring out of a few cuts too, and your arm felt like one molten bag of pain with each breath you took. What’s worse, is Jacob seemed to look at this as a reason to keep you, and you almost preferred death.

God only knows what will happen once you get back to his base.

(I hope you enjoyed! Sorry it was a bit short! -Mommabean)

#yandere farcry 5 #yandere jacob seed #jacob seed #jacob seed x deputy #yandere scenarios #yandere imagines #yandere male #mommabean

166 notes · View notes

theskategatsby · 1 year

Text

3A: From the dream team to catastrophe

Aliona Kostornaia, Alexandra Trusova and Anna Sherbakova, better known as 3A, are 3 Russian figure skaters coached by Eteri Tutberidze.

While they were juniors, they were always seen dominating competitions by placing 1st, 2nd and 3rd. Only losing to each other.

Alexandra Trusova, popular for starting the quad revolution in women's figure skating, was seen as the 'leader' of the group, she was expected to start winning everything when she turned senior. Aliona Kostornaia was seen as the most artistic, graceful and theatrical one, she can't jump any quads, but she does have a triple axel. Anna Sherbakova on the other hand, can jump quads, yet she is the least talked about in this trio.

They all turned from juniors to seniors at the same time, and contrary to what most people expected, Aliona Kostornaia starts winning all the competitions. In May 2020, it was announced that Alexandra (also known as Sasha) would be leaving Team Tutberidze for The Angels Of Plushenko. Only a month later, it was announced that Aliona would also be leaving Team Tutberidze for The Angels Of Plushenko. Eteri Tutberidze and Evgeni Plushenko had a dispute not long before this about another skater, Evgenia Medvedeva, and they were still not on good terms.

Sasha mainly moved to Plushenko so she could be #1 at the camp and have all the attention on her, specifically from Sergei Rozanov, who is a coach who previously worked at Eteri's camp, but moved to Plushenko. He is the coach that helped all of 3A to get their jumps, this is another reason why Eteri and Plushenko are rivals. Sasha was unhappy about her main competition, Aliona, also moving to Plushenko and being coached by Sergei. A schedule had to be made where neither of them could see each other on the ice or even leaving/entering the rink. Because Sergei started coaching Aliona again, Sasha didn't want to be coached by him anymore and she started working with a different coach.

A few months later, Aliona decided to move back to Eteri, but she was given a very hard time. She was forced to give an interview on Russian state television apologising for what she did and practically begging Eteri for forgiveness. Sadly, Aliona got infected with COVID this season, which took her out of most competitions this season. Eventually, Eteri allowed Aliona to return to her camp under one condition, she had to get her triple axel back within 2 months.

Sasha also moved back to Eteri later because of the Eteri bonus, which basically means that those coached by Eteri get higher scores in competition. This switch was just in time for the olympic season, for these olympics, there were only 3 spots for the Russians, and one of them was already taken by Kamila Valieva. There were 6 more olympic-level athletes who had to battle it out for 2 spots to go to Beijing. Due to the level difference between Russian figure skaters and the rest of the world, going to the olympics almost guarantees coming home with a medal. After Sasha showcased her 5-quad record breaking performance at Russian test skates, she was also set to go to Beijing. This whole season, Eteri's team spoke very negatively of Aliona during press conferences, calling her lazy and saying that her personality is the reason she can't land quads. Suddenly, Aliona posted a picture of a broken arm, which knocked her out of the battle to go to the olympics. There was still a battle between Jelizaveta Tuktamysheva and Anna Sherbakova over who would go to the olympics, but because the federation has a preference for Eteri girls, Anna was chosen to go. At the time, Anna didn't even have any ultra C elements in her programs, but she ended up performing ultra C elements at the olympics.

These heartbreaking olympics ended with Anna in first place, Sasha, heartbroken, in second, and Kamila, the favourite to win gold, in 4th place. I have a more detailed post about Beijing 2022 on my blog if you're interested.

These olympics marked the end of the dreamteam that was 3A, and this will go down in history as the death of figure skating.

#alexandra trusova #aliona kostornaia #anna sherbakova #figure skating #russian figure skating #olympics #3A

70 notes · View notes

where-is-francis · 2 years

Note

Steve harrington x male reader fluff where steve is dating a flim nerd and they work together but in the breakroom they make out

𝙁𝙞𝙧𝙨𝙩 𝙎𝙝𝙞𝙛𝙩

𝙎𝙩𝙚𝙫𝙚 𝙃𝙖𝙧𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙩𝙤𝙣 𝙭 𝙈𝙖𝙡𝙚!𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

Before You Interact - Rules Of My Blog

𝙋𝙧𝙤𝙢𝙥𝙩: Clumsy beginnings can lead to happy endings. Even for a former-douchebag like Steve Harrington.

𝙋𝙧𝙤𝙣𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙨: He/Him (fem aligned DNI, you have plenty of stuff)

𝙎𝙩𝙮𝙡𝙚: Literally all fluff.

𝘼/𝙉: IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK AGES I NEVER CHECK MY DRAFTS AND I FORGOT JFC but I had this idea for meeting Steve for the first time (bc my first impressions are always awful) and decided I had to write it like this. So it’s not exactly like the request but still.

𝙏𝙒: Throwback to when Steve got drugged by the Russians, mentions of weed (he tries to convince you he doesn’t smoke/it was a one time thing), no use of Y/N, I think that’s it.

The mention of Steve Harrington’s name would’ve earned no reaction from you at one point. He wasn’t anybody special, just another name and face in the school hallway. You never really had any classes together, and the end of high school solidified the difference in interests. You’d be lying, however, if you said it didn’t surprise you to see the brunette sporting a gaudy sailor suit and taking employment at Starcourt.

It wasn’t unusual for you to be at the mall. You and a few friends would normally meet up to go see whatever was playing in the theater as an excuse to hang out. It was a mutually loved experience — though you’d lost count of how many popcorn kernel shells had gotten stuck in your teeth that summer. If you weren’t at the theater, you were probably at the video store. Your life revolved around movies.

Naturally, it wasn’t surprising that the theater was where Steve met you on a very specific night. But his first impression was anything but perfect. In actuality, you’d forgotten all about it until a few weeks after when he came in for his first shift during late August. It was surprising, to say the least — considering how Keith despised him — but the brunette seemed pretty happy to swap the ‘Ahoy!’ printed hat for an equally ugly green vest.

It was early on a Thursday when he had his first shift with you. In his mind, he had been dreading and simultaneously looking forward to the shift. It was inevitable that your schedules would line up, but it still seemed too soon. The most you’d seen of each other was in passing or payday, casual interactions that left the (taller/shorter) male silently thinking about you for the rest of the evening.

You dreaded the shift a bit as well. Not for any big reason, but Keith said Steve had a shitty taste in movies. And it would’ve broken your heart, just the tiniest bit, to see the look on his face when you shot down his trashy recommendation to fill the lobby.

Even for only being there a few weeks, he caught on quickly, but had to redo his work most of the time considering how clumsy he was when flirting — both verbally and literally. While attempting to woo a really nice brunette girl, his stack of returns fell and scattered along the floor. You watched, amused, as the two picked the tapes up.

She left without getting anything other than a laugh.

Steve glanced at one of the hanging clocks, squinting a bit to make out the time.

“Break time?”

Your (e/c) hues caught the time and you nodded, motioning towards the back room. Nobody was likely to come in, but you left the break room door propped open just in case. Steve walked over to the fridge and pulled out the leftover pasta you had stowed away. The beige walls and cheap folding furniture didn’t do much to add comfort to the room, but your smile definitely did. He moved slightly, giving you space to use the small microwave.

Since that night at the mall, something about you had the (taller/shorter) male hooked. He remembered knocking the drink into your chest and muttering apologies, before staring at you in his drugged haze. You weren’t mad and began laughing it off immediately, instead becoming concerned about the blood and bruises that hid his features. Something about the way those fluorescent lights in a multitude of colors made you look ethereal and otherworldly. He had never seen a guy like you.

With the pasta finished warming up, you made your way to the small table while Steve tried to hide how he looked at you. He grabbed a half-empty can of Pringles and moved to lean against the wall. The loud climactic score of Terminator rang through the empty lobby and provided ample ambience for you two.

Steve’s sneaker tapped anxiously in tune to the music, leaving him to figure out what to say.

“Hey, I just — wanted to apologize? For, like, when we first met and everything.”

You looked up and met his eyes. He was expecting a confused look or for you to be mad, but you rolled your eyes instead. “Oh please, don’t even worry about that.”

He took this as an invitation to pull up the chair across the table and offer you a chip — to which you declined — before he continued.

“You actually remember that?”

“Uh, how could I not? I was seeing Back To The Future on the Fourth of July and you ran into me so hard I spilled my Coke. Not to mention I’ve never seen anybody’s pupils so wide — what did you do that night?”

Steve groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose with embarrassment, but smiled underneath his palm. Something about the way his bushy brows furrowed was unexpectedly cute and endearing in your eyes.

Nobody could deny that Steve Harrington was attractive. No, he definitely was. But especially now — not being shadowed by Tommy or Carol or any of the other stuck-up assholes from school. Now he was best friends with an awkward band girl and gaggle of dorky freshman. He was different. Still handsome and confident, but more authentic.

Steve leaned back a bit in the folding chair. “Oh man. That was a trip, for sure. I had a, uh, special brownie after work and was going to meet somebody to see a movie. I definitely overdid it, though.”

A smile formed over your features as you leaned closer to keep the conversation quiet. Keith wasn’t supposed to come in, but if anybody found out about Steve and the brownie, the nerd would definitely use it to fire him.

“Holy shit. Did it kick in during the movie? Wait — what happened to your face? You were all… bloody and fucked up.”

The brunette laughed and tried to think of a convincing lie. You wouldn’t believe he was drugged by Russians, of course, but it wasn’t a good idea to blurt that out. He leaned back and stretched a bit, giving you a good view of his toned arms that perfectly filled out his striped shirt.

“It kicked in before the movie even started. But Billy had been messing with Max — stepsister, friends with Dustin — and I tried to get him to just go home. Needless to say, he wasn’t happy about it.”

“So you fought him again and lost?”

He somewhat faked offense. “Uh, no. I didn’t lose. For your information, he had a date and left. But I’m assuming you knew about the first time?”

Steve watched as you poked and prodded the lukewarm noodles in the Tupperware container. It was evident that you were enjoying the story, anybody could tell with how your eyes glinted mischievously in the humming light of the break room.

“Of course. Everybody knew. I mean, I always thought it was pretty cool how you watched out for Henderson and stuff. Even if it did mean getting your ass kicked.” You wiggled your eyebrows at him.

He couldn’t be mad. In all honesty, it made him giddy — the idea of you thinking he was cool or something. The titles and admiration from peers began to matter less and less since graduation, they were nothing more than grains of sand. You, however, were different. You didn’t have to try to be anything — it came naturally.

Steve’s eyes wandered over every detail of your appearance as you focused on the pasta. It was like he was back in the theater, staring wide eyed at some (h/c) haired God.

Though you couldn’t see it, you felt the warmth of his gaze. “You’re staring again, Harrington.”

A hint of red dusted over his freckled cheeks. In an attempt to avoid saying something stupid, he resorted to eating again. The silence wasn’t tense, but it wasn’t very comfortable either. You wanted to ask about that night at the mall, as well as why he still seemed to look at you like you were the most beautiful thing the world had to offer. At first, the mall situation could’ve been a fluke. He was high out of his mind — it would make perfect sense.

But now? He looked at you in the exact same way, nearly a year later, completely sober.

You rested your chin into the palm of your hand and met his gaze again. “I bet the movie was totally amazing in that state.”

Steve nodded and flashed you a grin. It reminded you of that night and how his smile still seemed perfect, even with his perfect white teeth contrasting greatly to the dried blood that had covered his face.

“It was… something, that’s for sure. Felt like my mind was just gonna—” he gestured and made a cheesy explosion noise, “—yannow?”

“And was that from the brownie, or the movie?”

The brunette laughed nervously and shifted in his seat. Your voice was enough to drive him insane in the best possible way; sweet, caring, but still teasing enough to keep him going. Robin had been telling him to just go for it — he didn’t want to get his hopes up at first, but she insisted her superpower was having ‘gaydar’. That, and you’d not so subtly flirted with a few guys that came into the store.

Unbeknownst to you, Steve’s heart picked up in pace like it was about to pop out of the confines of his chest. It almost beat in time to the ending credits of the long forgotten movie that played in the lobby, and left a rhythmic pulse going through his body. He shrugged a bit, trying — and failing — to stop the words before they could come out.

“It was the movie at first, but something changed. I just remember looking at the lights then I ran into you.”

You laughed. “You looked at me like a deer in the headlights. I was tempted to call an ambulance, if I’m being honest.”

“I don’t blame you. I feel like I stared for hours or something — you just looked really hot. I mean, besides being covered in Coke. Pretty sure I told Robin you were a Greek God, or an angel, or something. At first I thought it was just the drugs, but then I saw you again and just… it’s the same thing.” He rambled.

And there it was, out in the open, before he could even realize what he was doing. Steve’s motion came to a blunt pause while he registered what he just said aloud. The pace of his heartbeat picked up until its thumping was the only thing he could hear.

The words came out of his mouth so quickly, and clumsily, like they weren’t a combination of the most genuine thoughts and that anybody had ever had about you. It was like an earthquake had just spawned out of nowhere, and once the rumbling stopped, your mind was racing as fast as your heart.

Steve took the silence as a very polite rejection. Once his own earthquake settled, he would try and apologize — ask you to forget about it — and he, too, would try. Every word was genuine, but the timing was off. Even then, he didn’t want to look across the white plastic table and meet the disgust in your eyes.

It would’ve killed him.

You sat with Steve in the stillness for what felt like too long. When his pleading gaze finally met yours, clearly working out what to say, he was met with a smile. Red heat filled the high points of your cheeks and spread into a dusting at the tips of your ears; it wasn’t hot, just warm.

“Holy shit… that’s, like, the nicest thing anybody’s ever said about me. Do you mean it?” The words came out ever so breathy.

Just like that, the former king of Hawkins High let the rest of his composure slip. It was like being exposed for the first time in a while; he wasn’t some arrogant rich boy with his pick of the school. The boy in front of you was as clumsy as he was gorgeous.

“I mean, yeah.” A nervous laugh worked through his body. “This isn’t exactly how I pictured our first shift together — just so you know.”

You grinned at him from across the table. “Me either. But I wouldn’t change a thing.”

There was no rush, but the brunette still felt like he should say something. No words of substance circled his mind, however, so he sat in silence with you in the dull room. Everything about the (accidental) confession had him feeling giddy and like he would melt into a puddle at any moment. With your lunch finished, you put the lid back on and moved it out of the way. At the sound of the bell from the counter, you maneuvered out of the room, sending Steve one last smile before attending to the customer.

A few hours had passed until the moon replaced the sun in a navy blue sky. And though the confession wasn’t what he had planned, not in the slightest, Steve was just glad that you’d been willing to give him a chance. For the rest of the shift, he would inevitably try to think of a nice date for you two. Unfortunately, he didn’t know much of your other interests at the moment — would it be too cheesy to go to the movies? Hawkins wasn’t exactly known for its creative date spots.

Your not-so-secret admirer leaned on his elbows across the counter as you worked on shutting down the computers for the night. It was silent in the door, now filled with a bit of darkness, save for the clacking of keys and the slinky that Steve messed with. The computer screen finally dulled in color and fizzed a bit as it turned off. The brunette followed as you moved towards the door to lock up, trying desperately to figure out how to word things. He hovered beside you like a shadow while you spun the open sign around and tugged the door closed.

“Whatever you’re thinking, the answer is yes.” You eyed him carefully with a smug grin.

“Really?”

“Of course. On one condition, though.” Steve nodded a bit nervously as you began to trap him between your body and the window, “If it involves movies, I’m picking. You may be pretty, but your taste is… in need of work.”

He smiled again. The (taller/shorter) male moved his hand to yours, not quite holding it, just gently running a thumb over your lower knuckles. Such a small gesture, but one that had you weak in the knees again.

“I think I can live with that.”

Reblogs over likes — it helps other people find my stuff. More male & enby reader content on my blog. ST requests still open!

#x male reader #stranger things x male reader #jaws stranger things #steve harrington x male reader #steve harrington x reader

272 notes · View notes