- I am a Fandub VA of various roles, like Cure Heart, Cure Precious, Cure Summer, Cure Gelato, Cure Twinkle, and etc!
- My best friend from a higher level gave me a Cure Sky plush and I will treasure it like my child.. It's the reason why I have her as my theme! Big shoutout btw
- I'm a PJSK papercraft maker! I made lots of Papercrafts of fanmade pjsk stuff I may or may not make more but feel free to req ^^!
- The reason why I'm short is because of my anemia.. (IRON DEFICIENCY YAY!!!!!!!)
- I'm an epic VA researcher trust me
- Posting a lot of my OC content here if you're asking ^^ !! (Which is why I have sideblogs for fanfic space)
- STRICTLY interact with caution. If you're a dick, get out of my Tumblr page. Especially if you're my school or classmate that I've been made fun of. /srs
That's all! Hope we get along!
OTHER BLOGS, TAGS AND TIKTOK ACCOUNTS BELOW THE CUT IF YOU'RE INTERESTED!
I know it's probably June 29th in your time zone, so I'm sending this to you right now!
HAPPY BIRTHDAY ELY!!!! It's a shame we don't talk much anymore, but I still appreciate you for being a great and very adorable friend! I'm sorry that I don't have a gift for you this year, but I promise to have something next year!!!!
Once again, happy birthday!!!!!!
PLATONICALLY LOVE YOU BESTIEEEEEEEEEE
It's currently 28th here, but tysm maou!!
Also I am REALLY sorry for putting that eclair spoiler reblog for everyone to see, I'm pretty sure Precure Tumblr is mad at me atm. But hey at least you finally know the truth!!
The city night hums with distant traffic and neon glow. From this high up, the world looks almost unreal, headlights sliding like veins of light through the streets below, billboards flickering in saturated pinks and cyans.
You sit on the edge of a high rooftop, legs dangling, fingers curled tightly in your sleeves like you’re trying to hold yourself together by force.
The thoughts are loud tonight.
You barely notice the shadows shifting slowly behind you.
“Brooding on a rooftop? Really?”
The voice is smooth, edged with sarcasm.
Macaque steps out from the darkness like he was always part of it. His ears twitch faintly in the breeze, tail swaying lazily behind him. He looks unimpressed.
“You’re not subtle, you know.”
“Go away…” you mutter.
He folds his arms. “No.”
Silence.
You don’t look at him. If you do, you might cry again, and you’re already tired of that.
He studies you carefully this time, really looks at you. The way your shoulders are hunched. The way your breathing is uneven. The way your hands keep clenching and unclenching like you’re trying to physically squeeze the thoughts out.
His voice loses its bite, softening into something gentler.
“They’re loud tonight, aren’t they?”
Your jaw tightens.
He sits down beside you, close enough that you feel the warmth from him, but not touching. Not yet. He knows better than to startle you.
“I know that look,” he says quietly. “It’s the ‘if I hurt on the outside, maybe the inside will shut up’ look.”
You swallow hard.
“They won’t shut up,” you whisper. “It feels like the only way to make it stop.”
He exhales slowly through his nose. Not annoyed. Just thinking.
“Pain,” he says after a moment, “is like a shadow creature. The more you fight it head-on, the bigger it gets. The more you feed it fear, guilt, shame… the stronger it becomes.”
He taps a claw lightly against the concrete.
“But here’s the thing. Shadows only exist because there’s light.”
You glance at him, confused.
“You’re not broken because you have those thoughts,” he continues. “You’re overwhelmed. Your brain is trying to solve a problem with the only tool it thinks will work.”
He turns his head, finally meeting your eyes.
“It’s wrong.”
Your voice shakes. “It feels right.”
“That’s because it promises relief.” He nods slightly. “Quick relief. Immediate. Simple. But it’s a liar.”
His tail flicks once.
“You don’t get rid of self-harm thoughts by pretending they’re not there. And you don’t get rid of them by punishing yourself for having them.”
He leans back on his hands, looking up at the sky.
“You treat them like background noise.”
You frown. “What?”
“When the thought shows up, don’t argue with it. Don’t spiral. Just…” He gestures lazily. “Label it.”
He shifts his tone slightly, mocking but gentle.
‘Ah. There it is. The self-destruct suggestion. How original.’
You almost huff a laugh despite yourself.
“It loses power when you stop treating it like a command,” he says. “It’s a thought. Not an order. Not a prophecy. Not the truth.”
You look down at your hands again.
“It still feels like I deserve it.”
Macaque goes very still.
He doesn’t answer immediately.
“I’ve done things I regret,” he says finally, voice low. “Things that actually hurt people. And even then? Hurting myself didn’t fix it. It didn’t atone for anything. It just added more damage.”
His eyes soften.
“You? You’re not evil. You’re not a villain. You’re just hurting.”
The wind picks up slightly, and you shiver.
This time he does move closer, resting his shoulder lightly against yours. Not heavy. Just enough so you know he’s there.
“Listen carefully,” he murmurs. “You don’t have to win against the thoughts forever… You just have to survive the wave.”
“The wave?”
“They spike. They crest. They crash.” He nods toward the horizon. “They feel permanent when you’re in them. They’re not.”
Your breathing is still shaky.
“Right now,” he says, more firmly, “we ground.”
He reaches out and gently takes your hand, pressing your palm flat against the rooftop.
“Tell me five things you can see.”
You blink.
“Humour me.”
You swallow and look around. “The billboard… the red light on that tower… your shadow… the moon… the cracks in the concrete.”
“Good,” he says softly. “Four things you can physically feel.”
“The wind. The concrete. My sleeves. Your shoulder.”
He nods once.
“Three things you can hear.”
“The traffic. The wind. You.”
“Two things you can smell.”
You inhale shakily. “Rain… and… city air.”
“One thing you can taste.”
“…Mint… From earlier.”
He squeezes your hand once.
“See? You’re here. Not in your head. Not in the future. Not in whatever your brain is trying to replay.”
You feel slightly steadier.
“They’re still there,” you admit.
“They might be,” he agrees. “So we redirect.”
He pulls something out from his shadow portal, a small cube of ice, faintly glimmering.
“Hold this.”
You flinch at the cold when it touches your skin.
“Focus on that sensation,” he instructs. “Sharp. Clear. Temporary. If your brain wants intensity, give it something that won’t scar you.”
You hold it tighter.
“Or,” he continues, “draw on your skin. Red marker. Lines. Let the urge express itself without hurting you. Tear paper. Scream into a pillow. Run until your legs burn. Channel it.”
His eyes lock onto yours again.
“You are allowed to feel intense things without destroying yourself.”
A tear slips down your cheek.
He notices but doesn’t comment on it.
“And you tell someone,” he adds more firmly. “Me. MK. Wukong. Anyone you trust. You don’t fight an army alone.”
You hesitate. “What if they think I’m too much?”
He scoffs.
“If someone thinks you’re ‘too much’ for needing help, they were never strong enough to stand beside you in the first place.”
His tone softens again.
“You are not a burden for wanting to stay alive.”
The thoughts flicker again, quieter now.
“What if I lose to them someday?” you whisper.
He leans forward, foreheads nearly touching.
“Then we build so many safeguards that ‘someday’ never gets the chance.”
He counts on his fingers.
“Remove anything you could use to hurt yourself when you’re in a bad headspace. Don’t isolate when you feel the spiral starting. Make a short list, three distractions you can do without thinking. And promise yourself one thing.”
“What?”
“You wait ten minutes.”
You frown.
“Whenever the urge spikes. You wait ten minutes before doing anything. Most urges peak and fall within that time. If it’s still there after? You wait another ten.”
A small, tired laugh escapes you. “That sounds annoying.”
“Good,” he says dryly. “Annoy the thought. Be stubborn.”
He finally stands, offering his hand again.
“You staying?” he asks quietly.
You look at him.
“…Yeah.”
His expression softens into something almost warm.
“Good. That’s all I needed to hear.”
He pulls you to your feet, and, without asking this time, wraps his arms around you. Not tight. Not trapping. Just steady.
“You don’t have to be strong all the time,” he murmurs into your hair. “You just have to stay.”
The city continues humming below.
And for the first time tonight, the thoughts don’t feel like commands.
(Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending)
You don’t feel okay.
Wukong notices, and stays.
—
You’ve been stuck in your head all day, listening to sad music and shutting everyone out. Sun Wukong shows up and refuses to leave you alone with it.
You Don’t Have to Be Okay
The music loops again.
It’s the same song now—you’re not even sure how many times it’s played again. The melody has blurred into something constant, like background noise for the heaviness sitting in your chest. You’re not really listening to it anymore… but you don’t turn it off either.
It fits.
The room is dim. Curtains drawn. Air stale. Time doesn’t feel real in here.
You’re staring at your screen, but not seeing it.
That’s when the door opens.
Slow. Careful.
Sun Wukong doesn’t burst in this time.
No dramatic entrance. No jokes right away.
He just stands there for a moment.
Watching.
Taking it all in the music, your posture, the quiet that isn’t really quiet.
“…Hey.”
His voice is softer than usual.
You don’t respond.
He steps inside anyway and shuts the door behind him with a quiet click. For a second, he looks like he might say something snarky, something normal—but it dies before it reaches his mouth.
Instead, he walks over and sits beside you.
Not touching yet. Just… there.
The mattress dips slightly under his weight.
The music keeps playing.
“…You’ve been in here a while,” he says after a moment.
You shrug.
Or at least, you try to. It barely counts.
Wukong exhales slowly through his nose, glancing at you from the corner of his eye. His tail flicks once, restless, before settling.
“Alright,” he mutters. “Cool. Silent mode. I can work with that.”
He leans back on his hands, staring up at the ceiling like he’s giving you space, but he doesn’t move away.
Minutes pass.
Not awkward. Not exactly comfortable either.
Just… quiet.
Then—
“You know what I hate about this kinda thing?” he says suddenly.
You don’t answer, but your eyes shift slightly toward him.
“It’s not loud,” he continues. “Not like a fight, or… you know, something obvious you can punch.” he lets out a small, humourless huff. “It’s sneaky. Gets in your head and just… sits there. Makes everything feel heavier than it actually is.”
Your fingers tighten slightly around the fabric of your sleeve.
“…Yeah,” you whisper.
He glances at you, softer now.
“Yeah.”
Another pause.
Then Wukong shifts closer—just a bit—and nudges your arm lightly with his.
“You wanna tell me what flavour of awful we’re dealing with today?” he asks. “We got ‘everything sucks’? ‘I suck’? ‘nothing matters’? Or the classic combo platter?”
A weak, almost invisible breath leaves you.
“…All of it.”
He winces slightly. Not dramatically—just enough to show he feels that answer.
“Yikes,” he murmurs. “That one’s a heavy hitter.”
You stare down at your hands.
“I don’t know how to stop it,” you admit. “It just keeps going. I try to distract myself and it just… comes back worse.”
Wukong nods slowly, like he expected that.
“Yeah. That’s kinda its whole thing,” he says. “Annoying, persistent, zero respect for personal boundaries…”
He trails off, then glances at you again.
“…Not your fault, though.”
You tense slightly at that.
He notices.
“I mean it,” he adds, more firmly, but still gentle. “Your brain’s being a jerk. That doesn’t mean everything it says is true.”
You don’t argue.
But you don’t agree either.
Wukong sighs quietly and shifts again, this time, close enough that your shoulders are almost touching.
“Hey,” he says. “Look at me for a sec?”
You hesitate.
Then, slowly, you do.
His expression isn’t exaggerated or playful like usual. It’s… steady. Grounded.
“I’m not gonna throw some ‘fix everything’ speech at you,” he says. “Because that’s not how this works. And honestly? If someone tried that on me, I’d launch them into the sun.”
That earns the faintest flicker of something in your expression.
He notices immediately.
“Hey—there it is,” he says quietly. “Tiny reaction. I’ll take it.”
You look away again, but not as far.
Wukong leans forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees.
“But I am gonna stay,” he continues. “As long as this takes.”
Your throat tightens a little.
“…Why?” you ask, barely audible.
He blinks, like the question catches him off guard.
“Why?” he repeats. “Seriously?”
You shrug again.
Wukong stares at you for a second—then lets out a soft, incredulous laugh.
“Wow. Okay. Your brain is really out here spreading misinformation today.”
He shifts, turning more toward you.
“Because you’re you,” he says simply. “Because I care about you. Because you don’t deserve to sit in here alone while your thoughts gang up on you.”
He pauses, then adds, quieter—
“And because I know what it’s like.”
That lands.
You glance at him again.
Wukong doesn’t elaborate right away. He just looks back at you, something heavier sitting behind his usual confidence.
“…There were times,” he says slowly, “where I got stuck in my own head too. Couldn’t shut it off. Didn’t want help—even when I needed it.”
He looks away briefly, jaw tightening just a bit.
“Difference is,” he adds, “you’ve got me.”
The room goes quiet again, aside from the music.
Then—
Very gently—like he’s giving you time to pull away—he reaches over and takes your hand.
His grip is warm. Steady.
Not tight. Not loose.
Just… there.
You don’t pull away.
He lets out a quiet breath, almost like relief.
“Okay,” he murmurs. “Step one complete.”
You blink slightly.
“…Step one?”
“Yeah,” he says, glancing at you with a small, softer version of his usual grin. “You didn’t shove me off the bed. That’s huge.”
A tiny huff escapes you.
Not quite a laugh, but closer than before.
“Step two,” he continues, “we make this room slightly less… sad cave.”
He gestures vaguely around.
“No offense.”
You glance at the curtains.
“…I don’t feel like moving.”
“Good news,” Wukong says immediately. “You don’t have to.”
Before you can question it, he stands up and walks over to the window.
“Hey, what are you—”
Too late.
He pulls the curtains open just enough to let a sliver of light spill into the room. Not blinding. Not overwhelming.
Just… a crack.
You squint slightly, but it’s not unbearable.
“See?” he says. “Minimal effort. Maximum dramatic effect.”
He walks back over and sits down again—closer this time, shoulder brushing yours.
“Step three,” he says, quieter now, “we survive the next little bit.”
You frown slightly.
“…That’s it?”
“For now? Yeah.”
He squeezes your hand gently.
“No big life overhaul. No ‘fix everything.’ Just… this moment. Then the next one. Then the next.”
You lean into him a little before you can stop yourself.
He stills for half a second, then relaxes, letting you.
“Yeah,” he murmurs. “That’s it.”
The music is still playing—but softer now. Less suffocating.
Wukong shifts slightly, resting his head lightly against yours.
Not heavy. Not trapping you.
Just… there.
“You don’t have to be okay right now,” he says quietly. “You just have to be here.”
Your grip tightens around his hand.
And for the first time in a while—
The weight doesn’t disappear.
But it doesn’t feel quite as crushing either.
Wukong glances down at you, a small, genuine smile tugging at his lips.
Hello! May I request a romantic oneshot of Nezha x f!reader that’s freed from being trapped in the scroll of memory by Azure?
Preferably Hurt/Comfort, but go nuts if you get ideas!
Thank you!
❁“It’s okay, you’re safe now…”❁
(Fem)
How long has it been in this absolute hell?
You’ve been counting away the seconds, the minutes, it’s the only thing that keeps you grounded to reality.
If you could even call this place a reality. Sometimes you think you already died and this is your after, but then the curse crudely reminds you that you are in fact still alive.
In the form of good ol’ physical contact.
You really didn’t want to be reminded of your family, how they acted when you stood up for yourself the first time, how they tried to make you stay with them when you told them you were going to live with your boyfriend of 2 years.
Yet this place seems insistent you be reminded of everything you’ve ever done in your life. A constant series of ‘what ifs’ and memories clashing together in a cacophony of dread that never fails to get you crying and/or screaming at the air to just stop it, please. It never does. It’ll never grant you that mercy, so long as you breathe in this place.
You’ve kept count how long you’ve been here, experiencing all there is to be felt.
6 weeks.
You’ve been in this nonstop loop for 6 weeks now. You miss your friends, you miss those nice coworkers, hell- you even miss your boss, the same old lady that insists on calling the staff ‘dearies’ as if you were all a family.
But most of all, you miss your boyfriend. You miss your talks, the way he would smile or even give a small laugh at your over the top jokes, the way he would sit with you after a long day.
In the first week of being here, you thought maybe he would rescue you and the other poor souls you sometimes hear screaming in the distance. This thought process was admittedly naïve of you, but you couldn’t help remembering Mk’s screams echoing the first few days you were there.
You had gone with the group when Mk was trying to get the scroll originally, dodging the blast that had captured Sandy Pigsy and Tang. You were there when Azure showed up, defeating the thing with ease.
You went with Mei and Mk to go into the scroll, figuring your knowledge of history may help a bit. And it did, for a while. Then you were separated from the others, taken away by the guards of the scroll’s city and so your own personal hell began.
Day after day, a new thing was brought up. You didn’t think you lived a particularly eventful life, but this place seems to think otherwise.
Today, it seemed, was mocking you and your actions. Because what stood before you was a mockery of what you believe is supposed to be Mei. She- no. It.
It was snarling at you; eyes squinted and glowing mouth pulled into a sneer, arms crossing as it leaned forward.
“Can’t believe you’ve been fake with me this entire time” It huffed at you, the eyes rolling. You knew it wasn’t Mei, you knew it wasn’t, but seeing something mimic her voice and most of her appearance then actively criticize how you act.. it still hurts. You try to defend yourself- saying that since Mei and the others were more high energy, you had to act higher energy as well to match the vibe.
It gives a cruel laugh, tossing its head back as it does so. You shrunk a little, but tried to stand firm with your opinion. You shouted for it to fuck off, that the real Mei would understand you not wanting to bring down the mood; In fact, she probably even yell at you not to force yourself to begin with! Because she’s just that good of a friend!
The curse stared at you before smiling with teeth bared, leftover giggles ramping back up into mad cackles. “Oh, but I am her! It’s me, you know?! I remember everything~!” The voice mockingly cooed, but it only made you angry. How fucking dare this parasite mimic her- how dare it claim the untruth. You knew Mei escaped with Mk and the others, you could feel the ripple of loss ripple through the scroll’s world. You also saw the way the curse visibly got upset at the time.
You knew the others freed Wukong at some point, you felt the way the one in front of you got more relentless once it happened.
But if everyone else was saved, why weren’t you? It’s been.. weeks..
You could reason it was likely they were busy in battle, and you would really only be a liability during such times, so you were left for last.
…but if it’s been weeks, surely it would be over by now?
You thought about it, remembering how long Lady bone demons' takeover lasted, and reasoning maybe the villain they were facing out there was much worse.
However terrifying the thought was, it brung you slight comfort.
Your slight comfort was immediately forgotten about, however, when it groaned at you.
“Oh come on, when is it going to get through that thick skull of yours? They aren’t coming for you. Period.” The form shifted grotesquely, going from Mei to Mk. It tilted its head, eyes widening to adopt a more innocent expression. “Don’t you realize I’m not coming back for you? I’ve got more important things to worry about than some nobody.” It snorted, waving its hands in front of itself and shaking its head, “Wait no, no- Not just some nobody, a nobody dating a celestial! Isn’t that just rich?”
You opened your mouth, hurt and rage circling through your body like a looping river, when a flash of pink momentarily blinded you. Raising your hand to cover your eyes with a hiss, you hear the curse also let out a shout from where it stood.
“She is dating a celestial.. one that loves her very much,” You hear that oh so familiar voice begin from directly in front of you, and your eyes widened- hand falling from your eyes down to cover your mouth in shock, all anger you felt before draining from your body in an instant. You felt tears start to gather, and you attempt to blink them away. Nezha wasn’t facing you, pointing his spear at the curse which had shifted to take Nezha's form. “and one that is taking her back where she rightfully belongs; out of here.”
With those last hissed words, and one more screech from the curse, another blinding flash happened around you before you were in the home you two shared. The area was silent for a moment, partly because you were blinking both from the lighting change and fighting tears, and then you heard a shuddering inhale from behind you.
You looked up, finding a disheveled Nezha staring back at you with relief and love mixing together in his eyes, along with tears of his own. Reaching forward with a shaky hand, taking half a step forward, he didn’t need to hear the words to rush forward and embrace you tightly.
Wrapping your arms around him just as tightly, the both of your tears fall as you both mutter your woes to the other.
Pulling back briefly, Nezha cups your face with a choked sob and a soft smile.
“It’s okay, you’re safe now…” He hiccups, pressing your foreheads together. Your knees buckle and he lowers the two of you down to sit.
You don’t tell him of how long it truly was, what all was thrown at you, but you knew that he knew something was up.
But that was alright, because he was willing to wait an eternity for you. For now, it was enough that the two of you could hold eachother after the respective hell’s the both of you went through.
You knew he’d follow through.. he always did~
*gently opens door, looks around and gentle places this note on the floor before closing door*
Nezha romance headcanons...?
nezha
x reader ❤️🪷🍓
— general romance headcannons
he’s only ever rough/man handles you if he’s super worried and you’ve done something stupid
he doesn’t mean to be stern or mean, he just doesn’t want you to get hurt
whenever he’s caught you doing something risky he’ll always grab your face and check for any injuries before kissing you on the forehead a little too hastily
he’ll be mad but only for a bit, he can never stay mad at you, but he would like it if you at least tried to make rational choices
contrary to popular belief, nezha doesn’t mind PDA
just dont do it too much, he'll get too embarrassed
ALSO contrary to popular belief, nezha can get super duper romantic and sappy, just tell him you love him and hes jello in your arms atp
roses, daisies, lotus', whatever damn flower you want, he'll get for you even if you didnt ask for them
most days when he comes back from guarding whatever sacred object he was tasked to protect, he comes home to you, another sacred object he needs to protect - and lord knows he comes baring gifts
he knows his work gets in the way of quality time with you and him so he tries to make up to you by giving you small yet thoughtful gifts from the far away place hes visited whilst on the job
and he defo collapses onto you the second he sees you cozy on the sofa
play with his hair as he mumbles about whatever and whoever pissed him off today (it was wukong. its always wukong)
kiss the top of his head PLEEEAASEEE itll knock him tf out
his favourite place to be is lying down on your chest after a long day at work and unwinding with his favourite person in the entire world
hes not going to let you go unless he needs to go and tend to his duties again, so make sure you bring snacks for yourself <3
Heyyy it’s me again. First of all, welcome back! I honestly thought about sending in another message, but didn’t want to intrude. Second of all, I finally got around to reading my request, and I love it. Thank you so MUCH for writing it. 🥹🥹
You could probably guess that I’m a Nezha fan by now. So could I interest you in some Idol!Reader x Nezha? Imagine him stumbling onto one of her performances and being instantly enamoured, and he keeps returning to her shows in a disguise and buying merch…
(Bonus points if MK introduces the two 😉)
— BODY GOT YOU OBSESSED (IRRESISTIBLE!)
𐙚 nezha x idol!reader (went slightly of script, still hope you enjoy!!)
𐙚 CHEE!!! #1 requester (might be my only one atp 🥀)
𐙚 im so sorry it took me long 💔 I got logged out of my account 😭
𐙚 likes and reblogs are always appreciated!
𐙚 I think the first time he would ever notice you, was if one of your songs were playing in the back of Pigsy’s noodles.
𐙚 You were great friends with MK’s little gang, because of this, they would all die to support you! Your music was played in every scenario, and you always had a song perfect for whatever it was they were doing. He’d notice this.
𐙚After a while, he begun familiarising himself with your songs, and just like everyone else, he loved it! (As much as he’d deny it!)
𐙚 As mentioned before, you were familiar with most of the people at Pigsy’s. One day, you managed to secure a day off, and decided to visit all of your closest friends for a catch up, and noodles of course!
𐙚 When you arrived, you caught up with everyone there, but a certain raven-haired man caught your attention. You haven’t seen him before? After some asking, his name was Nezha, and was also friends with everyone here!
𐙚 Unbeknownst to you, he’d already knew who you were, and it took EVERYTHING within him NOT to scream and fangirl. Two weeks after falling in love with your music, he’d managed to see you in real life, and was close with the Monkie Kid? Had heaven decided to finally bless him for once?
𐙚 He tried playing it smooth with you, he really did, bless his fangirl heart. He introduced himself to you as a casual listener of your music (MK screaming “Liar!”) and tried to converse as best as he could with you. He couldn’t help being nervous. Just from hearing your melodic voice was enough to enrapture him. Now, you also had a beautiful face to match? He could die happy on the spot right now!
𐙚 The two of you ended up with a lot more in common, besides your tastes in music. The entire evening was spent with the two of you frequently switching topics onto things you both liked, for example, types of flowers. For a moment, it really felt like it were just the two of you alone. (He wished!)
𐙚 When the night came to an end, he had found you left abruptly, and he wasn’t able to say goodbye! Sulkily preparing to go home, MK quickly caught him before he left, and handed him a piece of neatly folded paper. On the contents of the paper, was your full name, and… your NUMBER!! He had scored your number!! Seems to him like you enjoyed your night as much as he did.
Context: You're invited to a baking competition with your friends. Funny, your partner happens to be none other than the Third Lotus Prince, Nezha. And things go a little chaotic.
TW: None
‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹
[MEET ME AT MY PLACE ASAP]
That's it.
The text message belongs to none other than your good friend MK, who, coincidentally, had contacted you just when the boredom was two seconds from stealing your soul.
Grateful for the opportunity to visit, you fire back a quick:
[On my way!]
Then, you're off.
Sure, MK can be a bit impulsive and careless, but he's the funniest and kindest person you've met. Besides, they've graced you by letting you sleep in; normally, MK would send a text in the dead of night. These spontaneous messages are at random and without warning. And, slowly, they're growing on you.
Today, however, MK spared your sleep schedule by texting you at 2 p.m., the perfect time to do so.
You eagerly make your way downtown, through the tall city buildings of Megapolis.
What could MK be planning?
When you get to their place (Pigsy's Noodles), your question is somewhat answered. It seems as though your friend already has company over. Could you have arrived too soon?
You pull out your phone.
[Hey, I'm here.]
A few seconds pass.
BANG!
The back door at the top of the stairs flies open and you quickly look up. MK's grinning face beams down at you as he grips the hand-railing.
"Yo!"
"Hey!" You return, offering a wave from down below. "Can I come up?"
The Monkie Kid shakes his head. "Ah- no. Actually, we're doing the baking competition downstairs in the dining area. Everyone's waiting for you! I'm just up here for a few extra supplies," he calls, gesturing all around for emphasis.
Baking competition? Oh, goodness.
"There's more people?"
"Yeah!" MK says, looking positively ecstatic. With that, he departs to his room, calling, "Go say 'hi'!"
Huh.
You stare upwards for a few more moments, then deciding that MK isn't planning on reappearing. So with a calculated huff, you narrow your eyes on the entrance to Pigsy's Noodles.
Who else could be here?
Curiosity get's the better of you. Reaching out, you push past the rolling sheet door and into Pigsy's Noodles. Funny, only now do you notice the conversations filling the room, and your eyes flick wide open at the sight to behold.
It looks like everyone is here. Mei, Pigsy, Tang, Sandy - even the Monkey King, Redson, and Prince Nezha.
You find yourself staring, lips parted.
The Third Lotus Prince glances over, eyes sharp and calculating. You quickly avert your eyes as MK bounds down the stairs in front of everyone.
"OK, gang! Is everyone here?" He performs a quick headcount as you travel further indoors. Mei and Sandy greet you accordingly, to which you return with a wave. Pigsy seems too distracted in making sure MK doesn't trip and fall off the counter he's currently strutting down, while Tang's occupied with leftover noodles. Redson is busy acting unbothered while inspecting his (probably) hand-carved pocket knife.
The Monkey King is doing, well, you don't really know.
Looks a 'lil something like making himself seem as epic as possible while doing absolutely nothing.
Nezha, on the other hand, shoots Sun Wukong an occasional glare, as though peeved by something outside your knowledge.
"Hey," you say, sidling up to the lotus Prince. "What's up?"
His glare is suddenly directed your way, and you almost wither under the ferocity within his dark eyes. You're amazed at Wukong's superpower to ignore such a look.
Thankfully, Nezha's features soften. "Just . . . entertaining my charge."
"MK's your charge?"
"More or less. They've grown on me, as much as I hate to admit it," Nezha says, but the sigh he gives informs you that his words are lies. No sane person would ever hate MK's company. The lotus Prince must feel some kind of urge to protect them.
You smile, but Sun Wukong beats you to it. "D'awww, is my apprentice growing on you? That's cute."
"He's not your apprentice anymore," Nexha spits.
He looks away when MK straightens and calls for attention. "All right, guys! I've invited you all here for a baking competition! So we're all gonna split into teams of two - I will be the judge to even things out. Anyways, Pigsy agreed to provide ingredients-" Said pig huffs irritably.
"Against my better judgement."
"Riiiight. You just wanna show off your skills," MK says, grinning knowingly. With that, he whips out a clear bowl with small slips of paper filling the bottom. "OK! Who wants to pick a teammate first?"
Sandy's massive hand shoots up. The bowl is practically thrown to him, but he catches it easily and fingers out a paper slip.
"Uhhh . . . The Monkey King?"
Sun Wukong's head shoots up. "Aaaye, nice! What're we baking?"
"Whatever you want, Monkey King" MK says, going around to everyone in turn. Mei with Redson, Tang with Pigsy, and since MK will be judging, that leaves just you and Nezha.
Slowly, you turn to gaze at him. "So. I guess we're-"
"I request a refund," he scoffs instantly, going to tap MK's shoulder. The kid whips around, eyes wide, to watch the exchange of comments. "I'd much rather pair up with another instead of you. I've seen the products of your baking, (Y/N)."
"Wha-" Affronted, albeit smiling, you cross your arms over your chest. "I'm not that bad."
"You are."
MK butts in while everyone else departs to their assigned tables. Apparently, you and Nexha aren't the only pair experiencing difficulties. Redson is infuriated with having Mei as his partner, hair and eyes ablaze.
"Guys, chill," the Monkie Kid says, thoroughly amused. "It's not that bad! Besides, there's no backsies on this; whatever you bake, you gotta do it together, or else I take five points off your original score."
You blink. The teams will be judged in this fashion?
Nezha tosses his head, his black fluffy hair bouncing in place. "I, the Third Lotus Prince, will not be paired up with some inexperienced troublemaker who will most certainly cost me a solid victory!"
"Wow, prepared that just now, huh? I'm honored," you say, momentarily distracted by the Prince's lackluster demeanor.
Interesting.
Despite his comments, you feel that he doesn't truly despise working with you.
It makes you grin wickedly. "All right, lover boy. Let's get cracking."
"L-Lover boy??" Nezha stutters, but you've already hooked your arm through his and dragged him over to your assigned table.
~~~
"You're doing it wrong."
"I am not."
Nezha snorts, casually - yet gently - taking the measuring cup from you. "The instructions directed to add half a cup of oil to the mix. You tried adding a full cup."
Your eyebrows skyrocket. "What's wrong with going off script?"
He simply gives you a look, like 'oh, woe is this pitiful human standing before me.' But his exasperated eyes are fond. It just makes you smile and nudge him affectionately. Sure, Nezha can be a pain and a wall of unbreakable stone - plus the infinite cold shoulders if you do him wrong -, but you really do like him. He and you are actually really close.
He's kind of adorable.
The lotus Prince suddenly hands the measuring glass back to you, and your smile fades.
"Wha- I thought you wanted to do it."
"You might as well finish the job," Nexha says calmly. "Don't worry, I'll be watching in case you make anymore mistakes. Sound fair enough?"
You frown deeply, taking the cup. ". . . You're mocking me."
"No, I promise I'm not," he returns, but the amusement in his eyes says otherwise.
"You're supposed to be stressed and angry and controlling, y'know," you venture, pouring some oil into the glass cup. Peering at it closely, you continue; "Aren't I making you nervous?"
At this, Nezha tilts his head and smiles. "Not in the slightest. I've come to terms with having you as my partner. Might as well deal with it rather than complain."
"Smart words, lover boy."
His look sharpens, but he makes no comment. Instead, he scoffs, walks off, and returns with his arms full of ingredients. You look up after pouring the oil, eyes wide and glittering with approval as he lays everything out.
"Oh, perfect!"
You raise your hand, and Nezha, after glancing at it, instinctively gives you a high-five.
Oh.
Honestly, you don't know what you were expecting.
He's smiling, though, unaware of your shit-eating grin as he picks up the bag of flour.
"All right," he says, eyes narrowing at the bag. "How much flour do we need?"
"Uh . . . 3 cups," you say, after peering at the instructions.
The Third Lotus Prince nods determinedly, grabbing the measuring cup. "Here, you hold on to this," he says, handing you the flour. With that, he heads off. "I'm going to wash this so we can use it."
"Aren't you forgetting something?"
He glances over his shoulder, fluffy black hair brushing his cheek. "Hmm?"
You set the flour bag down to spread your arms. "Hug."
"Wha-"
"Why not? Aren't we friends?" You jest, but you're not really joking. The Prince would usually give you a warm embrace whenever he'd visit, and this should count. Perhaps he was distracted with the Monkey King's presence? Said deity is currently producing a beautiful batch of brownies with Sandy.
Nezha blinks, then rolls his eyes. "All right, get over here." With that, he holds his arms out, and you eagerly fall into them.
You grin up at him, safe and warm within his embrace. "Thaaaanks."
"You're welcome."
He's quick to walk off, but you feel it's to hide his smile. When he returns, you're wearing a shit eating grin. With the flour bag in hand, you make sure Nezha's got the measuring cup cleaned and dried before pouring some. Or, well, you would pour some.
Unfortunately, you trip on thin air.
The lack of footing makes you yelp as you fall forward, hands flying out to stabilize yourself. And that is where your fatal mistake comes into play; you'd already opened the flour bag in preparation to pour into the measuring cup. Two seconds after you trip, you're blinded with white powder - and so is the person in front of you.
Nezha stumbles backwards, managing to catch both the bag of flour while also still holding the glass cup.
You blink, patting your face free of flour. Damnit.
Hands still outstretched with the ghost of the flour package, you stare.
The lotus Prince blinks once, nose wrinkling all of the sudden. He then lets out a loud, flour-filled sneeze before recovering. His eyes are wide, astounded by what had just happened.
HA.
"What'd you do?" Pigsy calls.
MK shushes him, grinning. "Shh, they're creating a masterpiece."
Honestly, the sight is utterly hilarious. Nezha is covered head-to-toe in white powder, even coughing some of it out. The incident attracts a lot of attention (MK and Mei letting out a huge burst of laughter), and you feel the amused gazes of your friends as you slowly walk up to Nezha and take the flour bag from his frozen hand.
"Uh . . . sorry."
His eyes fix on you. "This means war."
"What?!"
There's no mistaking it; Nezha is dead serious. You have zero time to react as he snatches up an egg - which turns into a blur as it collides with your temple.
Yelping, you cower back, arms going out defensively. "Noho! Stop! I'm sorry!"
"Ohmygod-" Mei gasps-
"FOOD FIGHT!" MK suddenly bellows, and the room goes quiet. So quiet you could hear a pin drop.
Everyone shares a glance.
Mei is the first to act, grabbing an entire jug of milk, unscrewing the lid, and pouring its contents right over her poor, unsuspecting partner. Redson flinches away, eyes wide at the assault, before going in for the kill. "How- dare you!"
"Catch me if you can!" Mei teases.
And that's when all hell breaks loose. Food is rushing in all directions; Pigsy is calling for order, Tang is hiding under the counter; Sandy is acting as a shield for the Monkey King. You're vaguely aware of Sun Wukong yeeting eggs at anything that moves before Nezha suddenly flips your table on it's side in one swift movement, tugging you to the floor.
Everything you've worked so hard on is suddenly at one with the ground.
"B-But the competition-"
"You really think that matters now?" Nezha snorts, peeking over the table. He quickly ducks when an egg whizzes past his head. Getting down on your level, he sighs. "Damnit. I have no control over this."
Hhhhh.
You manage a guilty smile. "This is totally my fault."
"Oh, it is. And you will definitely pay for it when we're done here," Nezha growls over the battle cries of your friends.
"Pfft, right. I'm so scared."
~~~
Finally.
The chaos does ebb away eventually. But the noodle shop isn't in great condition when order is secured. There's a burning hole in the wall that's most likely the result of Redson attempting to headshot Mei. Sun Wukong and Nezha eventually duked it out in the center, while you'd joined Tang under the counter to cower.
Luckily, everyone listened when MK called for peace.
So now, everyone's sitting outside on the sidewalk, plates in hand with various desserts piled on top.
You and Nezha had scraped together a half-assed dessert at the last minute, and luckily the oven decided to spare your souls and produce something edible.
Everyones' creations are actually really good. Tasty, like sweet or sugary, or cold and minty.
You savor the flavor of Pigsy's dish (obviously the best, to which MK boasted about), smiling fondly at Nezha. Currently, you're sitting shoulder to shoulder, with Sandy on your other side. As the others chat happily, you nudge your friend's shoulder. "So, tell me. Are you proud of us?"
"I'm proud of my endurance," Nezha ventures.
You smirk. "Ah, you're a scream."
"You think I'm joking? If you had to put up with yourself, you'd quit," he fires back. But, after a moment, taps his chin. "Our batch is pretty good, though."
"See? I'm a baking genius," you hum, finishing your desserts.
Nezha's eyes are fond as you stand up, brushing yourself off. It doesn't do much for the residue baking ingredients stuck to your outfit, but you do your best. Then, you face the group and salute. "All right, guys. Imma go get cleaned up."
MK's head snaps up. "Oh! You're going already?"
"Well, look at me!"
When MK snorts in reply, Nezha locks eyes with you and frowns. "Are you going home?"
You nod, hands in pockets. There are things you have to take care of back at your place, anyways. Too bad you won't have anyone to keep you company-
Wait.
Well, you do have a bunch of potential companions.
Blinking slowly, you tilt your head at Nezha. "Hey . . . you wanna come with me? I know you don't plan to do much else here, considering MK's taking everyone who wants to go to the arcade. Redson is going home, Pigsy needs to clean up . . . and Wukong will be with MK. I'm sure you wanna steer clear of him."
"How do you . . ?" Nezha wonders, albeit smiling absently. He slowly stands up as you reword your invitation.
"Speculation. A-Anyways. Maybe we could give this baking thing a second go at my place? After I finish my to-do list, that is," you amend, eyes low.
The lotus Prince lets out a long hum. "Well, I don't have anything to do today."
". . . Oh, yeah?"
"Yeah. You want to leave now?"
Swallowing and fighting the butterflies, you nod quickly. Turning to MK, you snap your fingers. "OI! MK!" The kid glances over. "Nezha and I are going to my place. Thanks for the desserts!"
"Did I make them?? No," MK puffs, rolling his eyes. "Aight. Have fun!"
You smile, heading off.
The lotus Prince catches up with you in no time, and the two of you walk down the street for a second.
Tentatively, as if nervous of rejection, your let your hand brush Nezha's. You bite your lip to fight a smile when his long, slender fingers slip through yours and lace together. What a sweetheart.
Glancing up at him, you meet his relaxed, small smile. "Thanks."
"What, you scared to cross the street or something?"
I’m guilty of liking the fluff content so far that you’re making but it’s so hard not to like it when you write it so well! I wanted to squeeze in a little request for a redson x reader where the reader is feeling down/ depressed and he’s there to help them out! (I’m self projecting on the reader a bit cause my depression has been acting up recently haha)
Thank you for reading this 🍓
Aaaa yes fluf 'n shit but HUGS FOR YOU FRIEND
No one deserves to be sad. I wish you all the happiness in the freaking universe and some hugs and hope this oneshot helps chu <3
Context: This week is, simply put, not one of your better weeks. And Redson definitely notices, eventually, being the bull demon that he is. And he's definitely better than therapy.
TW: Depression, language
‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹
You stare at the ceiling, eyes half lidded.
Today, you've made a big decision. Possibly the biggest decision in your entire span of existence.
Today, you will do nothing.
A dull sigh escapes you, hands absently fisting the blankets beneath you. No, you never do 'nothing'. At some point, you just sit and cry and pray for happiness because that's all you can do. You've tried so, so many ways to achieve such a rare sensation, but none of them work. Wishing won't work, either.
Today, you're just a screw-up. A person who's realized all their mistakes and past deeds all at once. And it's awful.
The phone has rung a few times by now, but you find it easier to ignore than to answer.
How could you possibly explain yourself?
There's too many fucking reasons for how utterly sad you feel.
You might as well let everyone know you intend not to exist until the feeling passes.
MMM. MMM.
Oh.
Now that was a text message. You see no harm in reading it, so you cast out am arm to retrieve your phone. Frowning softly, you peer at the little bubble of text.
[Training today! Don't be late!]
Your eyes fly wide open, breath hitching as it hits you. Today can't be reserved for 'nothing' after all; you, MK, and Redson are scheduled to train in the bull demon's training grounds. He calls it his backyard, but MK and you have both speculated that a normal backyard doesn't consist of equipment such as metal spikes, booby traps, and the like.
Panic creeps up on you. There's no way to avoid this, unless you want to lie.
Which you don't.
Fuck.
~~~
"Oh, good, you made it," Redson huffs, regarding you through narrowed eyes as you cross the threshold.
You offer a forced smile and wave. "Wouldn't miss training for the world."
"(Y/N)!"
MK takes precisely two seconds until he's at your side, hand in the air. You give him an instinctive high-five, wincing slightly at the contact. Today's just not your day. Or week, for that matter.
"All right, you two," Redson says irritably, grabbing a sharp spear and twirling it between his fingers. After grabbing two more, he walks over and tosses them to both you and MK. "Today we'll be training with spears. This kind of fighting style will help strengthen your balance, reaction time, and the ability to calculate your opponent's moves before they even execute them."
The Monkie Kid's eyes are on the spear he'd caught. You'd fumbled for yours, eventually dropping it.
Oh, well.
"But . . . these are real spears," MK points out, slightly nervous.
The bull demon snorts. "So??"
"We can't fight with actual weapons! What if we hurt each other? What if you accidentally stab someone?" MK says, pointing an accusatory finger at the demon.
Redson rolls his eyes, tossing his spear into the air. With a graceful tuck-and-roll, he emerges in front of you two standing straight, one hand held out. The spear thumps perfectly in his hand, and with one eyebrow raised, he regards you both skeptically.
"What if I stab someone? Please." His red eyes are suddenly full of mirth. "I am too skilled. You two, however . . ."
He leaves the rest to be determined.
You swallow nervously. There's no way you'll be able to perform your best today; you haven't eaten a thing, your thoughts keep pounding you with relentless insults, and . . .
Something whizzes straight past your ear, inches form the real thing.
Eyes flying wide open, you stumble back, panic seizing your chest. When you find your footing and straighten, you find Redson's spear directed at your heart, the tip resting gently against the protective pad there.
You'd been too late.
"Hmm. You're much slower than usual, (Y/N)," Redson comments, retracting the spear. Tilting his head, he regard you quizzically. "Have you been training outside of schedule?"
Oh.
Oh no.
You can't have him know, have him unable to help you, then feel guilty afterwards.
So you quickly shake your head, heart still racing from the fact that Redson could've easily killed you had you not been so close. With an apologetic glance at both Redson and MK, you say, "Sorry! N-No, I was just . . . just thinking. I got distracted. It won't happen again. Sorry. D-Do we start now, or . .?"
Redson nods, regarding you irritably. "Yes. You and MK will team up against me."
"Cool beans!" MK says, smiling once again.
He strides over to you, spear at the ready. "Hey . . . you good?" He murmurs, features slightly concerned. "Did Red Boy scare you?"
Mouth quite dry, you try and get a good grip on the spear. Your hands are shaking. "Y-Yeah. Sorry."
"You okay?"
"I'm fine, thanks."
He seems to think better than to question you. Besides, you give him a faint smile, albeit fake, but it reassures your friend. So you both face Redson, weapons poised to defend. The bull demon snorts, as if amused you'd even try to stand up against him. But this is training.
In a blur of movement, Redson is suddenly at MK's side, grinning triumphantly. His spear jerks upwards, but MK propels himself into the air via magic staff.
"Yo! Careful, you almost stabbed me!"
"Isn't that the point?" Redson huffs, glaring at the kid. "And no magic!"
"It's a staff, not magic!"
"I, Redson, will not be mocked by a fool such as you!"
MK sticks his tongue out. "I'd like to see you stop me, baby bull demon!"
Redson growls as MK comes back to Earth, twirling his spear before jutting it at MK's leg. The kid adjusts his weight perfectly so that the spear misses his leg, which is raised to dislodge his opponent's weapon.
Unfortunately, the bull demon is much too experienced to fall for such an attempt. He blocks the blow with one hand, using his elbow to set MK off balance, swiping his legs to trip the poor kid.
"H-Hey!"
MK falls on his rear, but not before rolling to the side when Redson strikes again.
You falter, watching them duke it out.
Normally, you'd be laughing, or cheering MK on. But the pride you should be feeling is absent, replaced with guilt. With self-loathing.
You could never do what MK does.
Useless-
Eventually, MK uses his staff again, and he's immediately disqualified. As prophecies, he throws a fit. "It was an accident!"
"It's technically cheating," Redson says impatiently, panting slightly with adrenaline.
"You're just jealous."
The bull demon merely scoffs, looking utterly fed up with MK's bullshit. If you'd been feeling better, you would've found the exchange thoroughly amusing. But a second later, Redson turns his attention to you, eyes wide as he searches for a way past your defenses.
Which, as he realizes in a moment, you have none.
"Uh-" You fumble for a better grip on your spear, but it's too late. Redson darts to one side, then to another, and then he's leaping in the air with the spear raised to strike.
Your heart promptly stops.
Blood running ice cold, you throw your hands up to shield your face, screaming. "STOP!"
. . .
Positively trembling, you gasp for a few breaths, cracking your eyes open. You hear Redson's quick breathing close by, which makes you realize you're not dead. He'd refrained from gutting you - and even if you hadn't yelled out, he wouldn't have added you to his body count, anyways.
Fuck.
You'd failed.
Had Redson been a real enemy, you would've died.
It was just your panic. Just you.
Quickly, you drop your arms and meet Redson's eyes. They're full of concern. However, he seems to assume your previous actions were just to save your skin, and keeps his voice irritable. "What?"
Even as he lowers the spear, your panic doesn't fade. As MK walks over with a visible frown, you wave your hands to dismiss the question. "I-It's nothing. I-I'm just a little out of it today."
"Well, that's no excuse," Redson grumbles, brow furrowing.
You swallow dryly, thoughts at war with each other. In the end, you decide that there's just no point today; you're just slowing your friends down with your continuous mistakes. Besides, they're bound to notice how strange you're acting eventually - if they care at all.
So you take a step back. "Hey, um . . . I'm gonna turn in. I-I'm tired, and just need to recuperate."
"Aww, you're leaving?" MK asks, visibly upset. "But we just started!"
"They're not leaving," Redson spits, turning his harsh gaze to the Monkie Kid. But it's obviously meant for you, and your insides twist uncomfortably. "They're quitting."
You blink. "I-"
And then stop yourself.
No.
Everything you needed to say has already been said. If Redson is going to get mad at you for God knows what, fine. As long as you can leave this fucking training area and be alone with your thoughts. So you nod dutifully, taking a few more step backward, and then turning around all together. "All right. Bye. . . ."
"Your loss," Redson scoffs.
"Aw . . . dude, c'mon!" MK blurts as you walk off, voice carrying as you leave the grounds. "That was seriously uncool!"
"Don't scold me about being uncool! You're the one trying to cheat."
~~~
You sit alone at the edge of a cliff that oversees a beautiful landscape; lakes, mountains, trees - you even spot a few wildlife poking their noses out into the open.
Unfortunately, you can't seem to enjoy any of the serenity.
Instead, you feel hollow and numb. Residue tears stain your cheeks from things we won't talk about, and you don't care enough to wipe them away. Today just isn't your day. Happiness isn't meant for everyone. Everything will be fine.
Sniffing wetly, you lower your gaze to the deep plunge that will ensue if you decide to drop.
Instant death.
Not that you're planning anything, but the thought that you could end it so quickly is somewhat comforting. At least you wouldn't have to deal with life, anymore.
Footsteps reach your ears.
You know instantly who it is, but don't look up. You keep your eyes trained in the distance, hooded and full of guilt and pain. Surely he's come to drag you back to training, or perhaps he didn't think he'd said enough and has located you just to get a few more words in. These fears only make the tears come back, and your vision blurs.
There's just no point in running away this time.
Shuffling sounds, and Redson carefully lowers himself next to you. "H . . . hey."
Eyes wide, you swallow. "Hi."
A long pause.
Redson casts his gaze out to the sunset. "You know, this is where I defeated my first enemy, right here on this cliff. A fellow demon, and a nasty fellow at that."
You glance sideways, unsure of what to say. What is he doing?
"At first, I was a little nervous," the bull demon continues, voice slow as he searches for the right words. His voice grows more confident after some time. "Honestly, the brute was massive, and my father decided he was a worthy opponent without considering the consequences. And I, Redson, was young and . . . the battle was difficult. The challenger was ruthless and I only triumphed because I had a motivation. After I won, I decided I would keep training until I could defeat demons of much bigger stamina and power than the likes of my first."
"Why are you-"
"My own expectations, (Y/N)," Redson interrupts, somewhat downcast. "I was blinded - just as my father, the demon bull king, had been - with the idea that you and the Monkie Kid could be better, and assigned you possibly the worst opponent I ever could've. Myself."
Oh, hell. He thinks you left for all the wrong reasons. Quickly, you wave your hands. "Redson, I didn't leave because I thought training was unfair. I-I'm just not feeling great."
He blinks at you, confused. "Are you ill?"
"N-No . . . I haven't been feeling well, er, mentally," you say quietly.
There.
You'd said it. Honestly, you thought it would take a near-death experience to reveal how upset you've been these past couple of days. Sure, you haven't disclosed the reasons, but for now, what you've revealed is enough. Redson's eyes widen in realization.
"Why on Earth- no. You probably wouldn't tell me," he says choppily, letting out a short, awkward huff. He averts his eyes to the land below. "I don't need to know."
Tears flood your eyes. Here comes the waterworks. "I-I wish I could-?"
"No. It's not like I could help, anyways. But . . . I suppose that doesn't excuse my behavior today," he adds, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. With a contemplative sigh, he presses his lips together and searches the sky for the right words. "I'm not helping. Damnit."
A small pause.
You just don't know what to say.
"Sometimes . . . I'm unaware of the effect my words have on people," Redson mutters, glaring at the ground. "It's just frustrating how sensitive others can be."
You stay silent. If you speak, you'll just sound awful.
The bull demon glances at you, realizes something, and swallows nervously. "Sorry."
"It's fine."
"Truly, I am," Redson says. You go to interrupt him, to tell him that it's not his fault, but his look hardens. "No, shut up and hear me out. It wasn't my place to berate you for leaving the training session, I just assumed everyone valued it as much as I did. And I know you prioritize it, I was just being-" He cuts himself off.
The struggle is apparent, and the real reason behind his apology has yet to be said still. You merely blink at him.
He balls his hands into fists. "It's just . . . I just forget that people need breaks when they're feeling down. I forget because that's not how I am."
Ah.
Now it makes sense.
Understanding floods your body. It's true; Redson would train even if he's vomiting, even if he's dizzy with exhaustion. That's just how he is, and it's sometimes hard for him to consider that not everyone is like that.
But it's not his place to figure out what's wrong with everyone.
He doesn't need to do that to himself.
"It's not your fault," you say grudgingly, playing with your hands. "Shit happens."
"I-" He glances over, smiling weirdly at you. "Yes. I suppose so. But I'm clearly not helping, what with my rude assessment of your performance today."
"It's fine."
Redson blinks, smile fading as the weight of your words comes to mind. You don't really mean that. You're not fine. But it's not Redson, it's you; you're stupid ability to always fail.
"What . . . what's wrong, (Y/N)?" The demon murmurs.
Fuck.
The wall you've built up is cracking. Then, it simply crumbles to dust when Redson locks eyes with you. There's something so utterly heart wrenching about the look he's wearing; it doesn't suit him, normally he'd be glaring or seeming nonchalant. But not right now. Instead, you find him frowning softly, eyes full of understanding and pity, something not usually associated with the fire demon.
He's casting aside his pride, his upbringing, to comfort you. To ask you what's the matter.
The tears return with a will.
"I-I'm sorry-" Sucking in a breath, you raise your hands to bury your face in - but Redson catches them gently in his own. His eyes are suddenly firm and compassionately sorrowful.
"There's no need to apologize," he says softly, tilting his head. "I may not understand your pain, but if there's any way I can help, I will."
No.
No, you don't deserve it.
Tears cascade down your face. "Y-You don't- . . . I-I can't-"
"It's all right," Redson breathes, brow furrowing together as he searches your face. "I'm sorry if I hurt you. I promise, I'll try to be better for you . . ."
Oh, bother.
At that moment, you squeeze your eyes shut and throw your arms around him, effectively shutting him up.
"Just hold me. . . ."
He goes quite still, releasing your wrists as his hands lay frozen mid-air. Then, slowly, his arms encircle your trembling frame, rubbing your back slightly. "O-Of course," Redson says, the concern clear in his voice. Sure, he's always trying to be uptight and firm, but not this time. You let out a shaky sigh of relief.
"I'm sorry-"
"Don't fret," he murmurs, rubbing soothing circles in your back. "Sometimes, there's no reason to the pain we feel. And if there is, if I can help . . . I will."
You sniff wetly. "I just . . . hate to burden you."
"Ha. You believe this is a burden to me?" At that, Redson snorts. "Unlikely."
". . . Thanks."
He hums. "My pleasure. Would you like to go home after this?"
You think about it. There's something so safe about being in Redson's arms, that you almost want to refuse and beg to stay with him.
"I . . . um . . ."
Redson catches the hesitation in your voice and is quick to backtrack, his wide eyes on the sunset. "You don't have to!" He blurts, somewhat roughly, but it's all in good heart. "I just want you to feel your best today. We can stop training, too, if you'd like."
He seems dead set on helping you, which makes you laugh slightly through the tears. "No, I want to stay with you."
"O-Oh?"
"Mm-hmm. Sure, you're weird and you really like throwing insults around-" At this, Redson clears his throat awkwardly. You smile warmly and continue; "But you're really a good guy. You're someone I admire and look up to whenever I feel down, so maybe that's why I was so upset I failed today. A-Among . . . other reasons. You don't have to worry about me."
Redson sighs, giving you a light squeeze. "Are you sure?"
Well . . .
The negative feelings may return, but for now, you're happy to be here with Redson. Leaning back, you lock eyes with him and nod. "Yeah."
"Oh, thank the stars," he says, looking truly relieved. "Y'know, I only came out here to make sure you were all right. I wasn't expecting this, but I'm not complaining."
"MK didn't force you to apologize?"
He snorts, somewhat amused as he regards you scrutinizingly. "That troublemaker? You really thought someone had to make me see reason in order to grovel? No, I am an independent being and will not stoop so low as to leave you feeling so upset."
You stutter at that.
Redson merely grins, satisfied to have succeeded in his mission. Well, everything's a mission to him.
You're just surprised that making you happy is also one.
"I . . ." Your brow furrows, face screwing up in order to get the words out. "God, I love you. You're suck a freaking dork."
At this, he smiles gently. "Yes, I suppose I love you, too. As annoying as you can be-"
Suddenly, Redson cuts himself off.
Oh.
He's trying. This realization has a watery smile blooming on your face. You throw your arms back around him, burying your face in the crook of his neck. He immediately returns the hug, exhaling softly. It's perfect. He's perfect.
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Red Version:
Recolour under the cut
Yellow Version:
Requested by @abugsomewhere
(I have no idea what this show or character are, so I hope I did it justice <3)
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