#2024 I will hold onto friendships so tightly | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

slttygeto · 4 months

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don't be so reckless, don't break my heart —MITSUYA T.

synopsis: an argument with your childhood best friend leads to sweet confessions in the middle of the night.

tags: fluff, confessions, childhood best friend! mitsuya, fem!reader, arguments (so, angst if you squint a little), mentions of the reader being in a panicked state, mentions of mitsuya having injuries and bl00d all over him.

word count: 4,2k

note: thank you to the amazing @jean-kirsteins-real-gf for commissioning me! I enjoyed writing this piece a lot :) what a way to start the year! happy 2024 <3!!

Your first meeting with Mitsuya is a memory that is always present in the forefront of your head. It isn’t something that you could easily ignore or brush off, how such a sweet boy who was about your age had a baby to his chest and a kid younger than you both holding his hand so tightly you could see their knuckles turning white. What a rare sight it was, for a boy so young to guide his sister (after you heard her address him as big brother), the gentle tone to his voice, the carefulness when holding the baby to his chest—his kind gesture seals the deal for you.

Shy and scared as a shrinking violet, your teary eyes face away from the two boys who had pushed you off the swing. Young you was never able to speak her mind so bravely, so freely—yet you watch as Mitsuya—(a total stranger at the time), come to your rescue with a baby wrapped closely to him. It is ridiculous the way he fights and scares them off so easily. At first, they mock him for his soft features, for his lavender eyes and for the tiny human being latching onto him. Yet a single kick to one of the boys’ stomach is enough to send chills down your spine. That looks painful, you think.

As you wipe your eyes, you are finally able to look away from the bullies scurrying away with their tails tucked between their legs, facing your knight in shining armor. Your savior. What do you say in such situations? What do you do? You forget to stand up and dust yourself, only realizing your position when your neck starts to hurt from craning it to look up at your hero.

“Are you okay?” he presents a warm hand which you gladly hold, and he pulls you up with so much ease as you wipe away the excess tears on your cheeks. “I’ve seen them around here, never been nice to anyone.” He continues to talk and you continue to give silent nods as a response. At one point, he questions your ability to speak and your face heats up.

“I’m just…”

“Shy?” The slight to his head, the sweet smile—the crush you developed for the boy was all too expected with how nice he was to you.

As the years pass by, the friendship the two of you have developed turned into something that none of you could quite decipher—not that you wanted to. Strangely, you enjoyed the confusion that paints his friends’ faces as you walk up to him, scold him for missing lunch, for not answering your calls—and he doesn’t blush nor does he shy away from returning your hugs, even more passionately than the way you almost tackle him to the ground. His arms have grown stronger than when you were kids, and the way he smells has become so sweet…so intoxicating—you feel dizzy when you pull away from him, unable to look him in the eye for the next 30 seconds as you listen to whatever lame joke Draken has to say about the two of you.

Unbeknownst to you, the boy remembers the day he saw you as though it was yesterday as well. Pretty girl crying on the playground, heart thrumming in his chest when he saw the tears painting your face—he wasn’t in Toman at the time, wasn’t even a thing to begin with. He lies to himself and says that his brotherly instincts kick in when he saw you, that the protectiveness stems from the fact that he would’ve done the same if it were one of his two little sisters. Nevertheless, whatever he was telling his stubborn brain would not go through. He hears you sniffle and helps you up, gives you a tissue to clean yourself and even questions your ability to speak—when you part your lips, your soft voice is what seals the deal for him at the time.

At the time, developing a crush could be from something as simple as saying hi a bit too excitedly or in Mitsuya’s case, the way you had always been nice to other kids on the playground. You weren’t that talkative, but you played with kids on the swing, built sandcastles with them—until those two boys bullied you and the lavender boy knew he had to do something about it.

Watching you grow was a privilege. In Mitsuya’s eyes, having you was perfect. Knowing you, growing with you, embracing you in his arms—you’ve become more beautiful, your eyelashes brush over your cheeks when you blink and your lips pout instead of wobbling when you get sad. Your eyes still hold the same amount of warmth in them as that summer day he met you. You smell as sweet as a jasmine, handle his little sisters as though they are your own, delicate fingers brushing their hair, fixing their bangs, prepping their meals—you treat him and his family with something that feels so special but he would hate to be falsely reading between the lines.

Empathy and kindness have always been one of your traits, you put other people first and although Mitsuya loved it when someone realized just how much of an amazing human being you were, he hated seeing you get taken advantage of. So nice, so sweet—an angel.

You are present when Toman becomes a thing, celebrate alongside the first few members of the biker gang the birth of something so small yet so significant (with a future so big, nobody could ever foresee it). However, violence was never your thing. And so a frown sits heavy on your face whenever you see small scratches on Mitsuya’s face, remind yourself to scold him later for the bruise on his jaw—how would he explain it to his sisters? They’re probably worried sick about him!

“It’s me, can you open up?” it is a rainy summer night, your favorites. You are wearing light pajama pants and a tank top as you approach the entrance door with your heart beating in your throat. At around 11:32PM, soft knocks come to your door. You don’t move from the couch at first. Maybe they’ve mistaken the property for theirs.

Until a second round of knocks come in, and you hear the muffled voice and—wait, you know that voice! As you rush to undo the locks, nothing could’ve ever prepared you for the scene awaiting you.

Mitsuya Takashi was everything yet nothing—a leader, an older brother and a best friend, but when he comes to you so late at night with bruises and cuts all over his face—purple and red knuckles, the bones almost visible, he hisses at the feeling of the alcohol against his wounds. Tears welling up in his eyes, the sniffles--you realize how utterly small and vulnerable he is, sitting on your red couch with legs that would not rest. His limbs shake and his head hurts, you doubt that he has eaten anything all day and he watches as you sigh and rearrange the first aid kit before making your way to the kitchen.

“I’m sorry,” his voice sounds harsh, the softness to it no longer there after having yelled so much during yet another one of Toman’s fights. You give no response. You don’t need his apologies, you do not need words right now—however, starting a fight was the last thing on your mind, and clearly not what Mitsuya was able to handle in such state.

“It’s alright,” you say as you make your way back to where he was and place food in front of him. Hot and delicious, the smell alone is enough to make his mouth water and he digs in with no regard to his wounds—you hear him hiss as he pulls the chopsticks away from his lips and for the first time ever, you give a small chuckle.

Mitsuya smiles at this, a little relieved that you weren’t that mad at him. However, he sees the way you sit and face away from him, how your eyes trail longer on the uninteresting, empty road out there rather than his face. This was unlike you. You were never one to avoid eye contact with him, having openly admitted that you find solace in his lavender eyes and his gentle stare. Clearly, something was wrong.

“Are you angry with me?” It is not a surprise that the emotionally intelligent man was able to pick up on the subtle hints you’ve thrown his way about your sour mood, and you suck in your lips for a bit before finally mustering up the courage to face him. Your eyes are tired, a deep frown sitting heavy on your face and painting your features in a darker light than usual. One that has the wounded man’s heart breaking for a bit.

“Only worried,” you want to say more, Mitsuya fixing his posture to look at you encourages you to do so. “Do you have to do this?” you whisper the question so softly, so afraid that someone in the empty apartment beside Mitsuya would hear. You don’t know why you are so afraid of being heard, perhaps because you know you are overstepping into a territory that wasn’t yours—something you’ve never had the chance to experience—Toman, the community, the people in it. They all meant so much to the guy sitting next to you, wouldn’t it be insulting to ask him if he has to put his life on the line for them every time?

Upon hearing those words, a sigh leaves the guy’s lips and you feel like sinking into the couch. Conversing with Mitsuya was easy, it felt natural and smooth—why was this topic so anxiety inducing then?

“You’ve been there… you know, when it all started.” His words serve as a reminder of the day it all started, the joy on everyone’s faces when Mitsuya handed them the old Toman uniforms. You’ve seen it, how dedicated all of them were. You were understanding—but this was too much.

“I have but—Takashi, this is ridiculous,” you turn to face him and Mitsuya’s eyes flicker down to your pouty lips before staring back at your eyes. He hates seeing you so upset.

“I know, I know…” his hand slides towards your own and you feel electricity through your body when you feel his touch, the way his fingers interlace with yours and his thumb brushes over the skin of the back of your hand. “I just have to and plus, kinda needed that beating as warm up.”

“Huh?” you stare at him confused, pushing him to continue.

“Toman’s been involved in something a bit nasty,”

“But you guys are used to nasty, right?” there’s nervousness in your voice.

“Yeah but this is… This is next level,” when Mitsuya leans forward with his elbows on his knees, the serious look on his face almost sends you spiraling.

“Who?”

“Hm?”

“Who are you fighting?” You’re fighting off high levels of anxiety as he keeps you waiting for a few seconds before replying.

“Tenjiku.”

“Tenji—“ you choke on your spit, unable to finish your sentence out of pure shock. “Tenjiku! You are fighting Tenjiku? No, no no no—you’re not,” you’ve grown agitated at the mention of the name of the gang, and Mitsuya suddenly finds himself unable to calm you down as he normally can.

“Hey, it’s okay we’ve got this, we always do—“

“You always do?!” You repeat, before pointing at his state. “Look at you! You’re barely coming back in one piece, think you can fight Tenjiku?”

“Well excuse you, Toman is also very strong.” Takashi also gets up from the couch, your words having too much of an effect on the usually calm and collected man. As he watches you pace around the living room of your apartment, his hands find themselves in front of his body, reaching towards you in a futile attempt of getting you to calm or sit down. But to no avail. It seems as though the mention of such dangerously reputable biker gang sets you off, and the possibility of what might happen to the man if not careful enough sends you spiraling down faster with each short inhale you take.

“That’s—what? A thousand men against a hundred? Don’t be ridiculous Takashi.”

“How am I being ridiculous? You know Toman,” his eyebrows are furrowed and his body stops moving, indicating that your words were starting to get to him personally. “We are strong, we got this.”

“You always come back beaten up and bloody!” you half yell out exasperated. “You don’t got this if most of your body is black and blue by the time a fight is over!”

The tension in the room has grown so thick. It’s unusual given your somewhat stable friendship with the man. Slight disagreements happened here and there over things that you could easily brush off and say ‘yes, I was wrong and you were right,’ or simply ignore it and pretend it never happened. But as your voice gets louder, and you show more and more evidence of how upset you are, it’s clear as day that ‘slight’ wouldn’t describe the situation accurately. You were having a full blown argument with Mitsuya, and it still hasn’t sunk in yet.

Mitsuya can hear his heart beat in his chest, he feels his ears heating up with the amount of negative feelings he was experiencing towards this—towards you being so against Toman winning. Did you really not believe in him? Were you faking being supportive this entire time?

“You know I’m still going to go and fight alongside them, right?” The tone Takashi uses with you is so unusual that you feel your eyes brimming with tears straight away. Cold and indifferent, two things you never thought you could associate with how the man felt for you.

“Well don’t come to my place for me to clean you up. Find someone else.”

“I will.” He doesn’t wait for you to open the door for him, doesn’t say goodnight as he usually does. He doesn’t even slam the door as he leaves. He is cold and distant as he walks further and further away from you, from the argument. Reality sets in and the heavy weight of your words and reactions to his announcement come flashing back like a short movie made to embarrass you, make you feel guilty.

“Fuck.”

“Mitsuya! You’re distracted!” Another punch lands on the lavender hair’s jaw, sending him flying into the ground with a loud thud. Although his injuries aren’t as bad as half of Toman’s, his disorganized state is sending most of his division members into a panicked state. He was never like this.

“Ugh--!” Before he can stand up, he is being kicked repeatedly in the guts until blood spills out of his mouth, and he takes the opportunity to roll over and away from whoever’s attacking him to avoid another harsh blow to his body. He gets on one knee with an arm around his middle, protecting his injuries and he coughs out blood before letting his wobbly legs help him stand up straight.

“Shit—sorry,” his hand wipes at the blood on his lips. He gets into a fighting stance and immediately, the look in his eyes changes into something fiercer, more passionate. He hates that the argument with you is the only thing on his mind. Your words, your tone, even the way you haven’t reached out to him in a couple of days. He hates fighting with you, despises the fact that maybe you were right, and that Tenjiku are beating them up. But one glance at his division members—at Toman, it reminds him that the roars of victory when the fight ends, the tears of joy. The pain in his body could never compare to the happiness and satisfaction of being in this gang, his second family. However, he cannot wait for everything to be over, and for you two to make up.

The universe has a strange way of showing that two people are meant to be. As Mitsuya makes his way back to his apartment, several groans escape his lips as he drags his bloodied and beaten up body up the stairs. He preferred going to yours because there were less stairs but…It looks like it wasn’t an option now. As his hand twists the knob of his door, he is fully prepared to see a mortified baby sitter asking him what exactly had happened—but instead, he sees something else. Or rather someone.

Earlier that night, things were a bit messy for you. Feeling as though you have been punched repeatedly in the guts wasn’t an enjoyable feeling—the nausea amplified by your shallow breathing, your nostrils hurting from the harsh cold air and your throat dry as a desert as your body refuses to swallow, instead sending you into an anxious state as it forgets to let the oxygen into your lungs. You choke as you get away from the window and run to the kitchen to grab some water, you open the tap and let the cold liquid hit your wrists, calm your nerves. You lean against the sink with your elbows propped against the surface and your lips pathetically wobble as tears threaten to spill. You couldn’t handle this anymore.

You were glad that Luna and Mana had gone down to sleep easily, a short story about a princess that wandered around the forest, slipping down a mystery hole into a magical world which she ended up ruling had the girls’ eyes sparkle, yet the tiredness was visible as their under eyes darkened, eyelids heavy and before you knew it—tiny snores resonated through their shared room. You checked on them a couple of times throughout the night, and although the sight of them sleeping so soundly had you place a hand on your chest as muscle memory, your body wanting to show its relief—your brain was running a thousand miles per hour. Takashi—how was he? Would he even make it back? You feel as though you were a bit harsh with him when telling him that you wouldn’t treat his wounds—but his stubbornness, you couldn’t handle it anymore.

There is a crackling noise coming from the fireplace, and you know that the coldness of your body calls for warming up but—but not now, not when Mitsuya wasn’t back home yet, and it was already approaching three in the morning.

As strange as it may seem, the invisible thread connecting the two of you was tugging from both sides and you find yourself staring at the door knob before it starts twisting. When the door swings open and a bloody Mitsuya comes in sight, the first thing that leaves your lips is a defeated “oh” before your feet rush you to the first aid kit you had brought with you from your place.

“What…are you doing here?” Takashi is the first to break the silence as he limps towards the couch. You don’t answer, you gently place him on the cushions before cradling his face in your hands. He doesn’t like the look on your face, how your eyes are brimming with tears and your bottom lip wobbles before you look away to hide the fact that you were very close to bursting into tears.

“I was never going to come.” You admit, but it was obviously a lie. Not with the way you carefully unbutton his uniform top and hand him a bottle of water to keep him hydrated.

“I know,” his voice had gone low, almost ashamed to be in such position.

“Did you at least win?” You whisper as you open the kit and pull out cotton and some disinfectant for his wounds, a bandage for his for his arms and legs. His uniform was ripped, destroyed from being tossed to the ground repeatedly, but the proud smile on his face eases your worries a bit. You miss seeing his lips curl up like that.

“Toman never loses.”

The next few minutes go by in complete silence, with the occasional hiss and groans from the man being treated and your soft apologies. The living room is filled with something so intense, ready to snap at any given moment. When Takashi groans as you press at a certain spot between his ribs, you freeze and look up at him.

“You broke a bone?”

“I figured with how hard I was getting beaten,” he holds his side with a slight wince.

“Takashi…” said man looks down at you, and his eyes soften when he sees that the tears you once held in were finally spilling out. “You’re so reckless, I—you stress me out,” you try to wipe your tears away, but it seems useless. The more tears fall down, the less control you have over your sobs. You are on the verge of a full breakdown and the man sitting before you on the couch can’t help but reach his hands towards you to smooth your hair, push it out of your wet face.

“Hey…hey I’m fine, I’m sorry that I caused you this much stress I just—“

“I don’t wanna lose you,” you cut him off abruptly, moving your hands away from your face and letting him fully cradle your face. “I can’t imagine living without you, Taka,” before your lip could start wobbling again, Takashi’s thumb gently brushes over it and pulls it down.

“You won’t lose me,” he whispers, leaning down to your level. “Ever. I know I get beaten up very often, but I always come back in one piece, don’t I?”

“But what if something happens?” you’re finally letting your worries float to the surface openly. Rather than telling him not to fight like last time, you are now fully admitting that you were anxious about his absence, how much he means to you and how his well being affects your life. “What if—what if you lose, you die and I don’t have you in my life?”

“That wouldn’t be so horrible, hm? I do cause you a lot of stress apparently,” he tries to joke, lift up your mood but you shake your head almost harshly, hands grabbing his wrists.

“I need you with me, in my life. I need you next to me, I wanna be selfish and keep you all to myself, Taka,”

“All to yourself?” His thumb then brushes your cheek, up to your eyebrows before pushing your sweaty strands out of your face. “Sounds like you got something else to say, don’t you?”

His voice isn’t playful, but rather encouraging. His lavender eyes are filled with something so comforting yet so intense. For the first time ever, you feel nervous in his presence.

“That I love you. I’m in love with you, you don’t even know how horrible it feels when I have to treat your cuts and wounds and have to watch you be so careless about something that is so precious to me,” your hands let go of his wrists to cradle his face, mirroring his actions. He melts under your touch, nuzzling into the palm of your hands like a feline craving heat during winter.

“Lucky you, I’d love to have you all to myself too,”

“You do?”

“I do,” he nods and tilts your head up to stare at him. “I have wanted you all to myself for so long, it’s kind of ridiculous. That warm smile,” his other hand traces your lips. “Those gorgeous eyes,” he leans in and presses a kiss to your eyelids. “This pure soul,” his lips then press against your forehead, between your eyebrows. “I’ve wanted you to be all mine for so long, watched myself fall in love with you harder with every moment we spent together. My heart, my soul—they yearned for yours. For your eyes to only stare at me, for those lips to only smile at me—I love you.”

You feel your cheeks heating up with every word, every honeyed sentence leaving his lips like a sweet melody. You can’t bring yourself to say anything in return, not when looking at him seems so difficult, your eyes, chest and whole body feeling hot at the realization that he feels the same.

Takashi was in love with you.

“You made my confession seem so lame,” you break the silence with a sniffle, and your face heats up even more when he starts laughing at your embarrassed state.

“It wasn’t lame at all, my love, my heart is about to burst at your words,”

“Don’t—you’re so comfortable already!” You try to pull away from him when he uses such sweet pet names on you.

“I am the luckiest to be with my best friend, my baby,” he presses his lips against your cheeks with a grin, going in for another kiss when he feels your hot cheeks. “Of course I’d be comfortable.”

Falling for your best friend seemed like the worst possible outcome when you realized you were developing feelings for him, but when he was holding you with so much care and staring at you with such warm eyes—all those worries melted away against the palm of his hand, accepting the love he had for you with open arms and an open heart.

2024: all works belong to @ slttygeto. do not repost my works on any other platofrm.

#moon's works #tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x reader #mitsuya x reader #mitsuya takashi x reader #tokyo revengers mitsuya #tr mitsuya #tr x reader #tr x you #mitsuya tokyo revengers #mitsuya takashi #mitsuya fluff #mitsuya x you #tokrev mitsuya #mitsuya x reader fluff #mitsuya x reader angst

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kittenintheden · 2 months

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Willstravaganza 2024 - Rejection, Worship

So I'm doing it, I'm turning this prompt list into a multichapter exploration of Wyll from pre-canon through canon. LET'S GO.

Scar Tissue That I Wish You Saw, Ch 1 Rating: M Word Count: 950 Content: pre-canon Wyll, young Wyll, questioning faith, vague mention of death during childbirth RE: Wyll's mother

AO3 Link

A series of vignettes following the Blade of Frontiers from his youth through his adventures with the squad, loosely based on prompts for Wyllstravaganza 2024. There will be angst, and found family, and friendship, and fighting, and romance, and very likely smut. We begin in the Gate with a seventeen-year-old Wyll questioning his faith, or lack thereof.

Wyll is not a religious man.

Much of the time, the patriars and politicians in their orbit find it curious that he and his father aren’t overly dedicated to the gods. They pay proper deference, of course, but the Ravengard men do not practice any rites, make time for regular prayer, or kneel before altars. Most people receive a polite smile and a gentle change of subject when they press the matter with the Grand Duke. In time, people stop asking altogether.

Every now and again, it comes up with the younger Ravengard. Wyll is young, only a lad of seventeen, but he holds himself as a man, refined and noble. His father ensured it so. His dedication is to the Gate, to the people. There is no time to be spread thin appeasing the gods. Not when the city needs its leadership to lift them when they are low.

But Wyll knows the true reason his father lowers his eyes when they pass the temples, why he picks up his pace ever so slightly until they clear the holy district. Wyll knows, every time he looks upon the portrait in the hall of his father standing behind a seated paladin, her fingers intertwined with his upon her shoulder, her golden eyes and dark skin radiant even on canvas, the bound hands of Ilmater prominent on her ceremonial chestplate.

Ilmater called suffering holy, and sacrifice in the name of life the most holy cause of all.

Wyll has never quite forgiven the Crying God for calling for his mother’s sacrifice at the moment of his birth. He should, it is expected. But he cannot.

Perhaps that’s why he finds himself in Rivington today, standing just outside The Open Hand temple. Wyll rubs small circles into the hilt of the shortsword at his hip as he stares up at the belltower. While the Grand Duke encourages him to regularly venture out to the Lower City to be among the people, he insists his only son keep a blade close. Just in case.

Wyll is not the only Ravengard who fears further loss.

Pigeons flit back and forth over the tiled roof, some with tightly rolled parchment bound to their legs, some without. The afternoon sun is warm, but not uncomfortably so, and the people mill about. When a few here and there note his modest but unpatched clothing, they ask if he can spare a bit of coin, and he does. Every time.

He should go inside. Pay his respects, check on the clergy. See how he can help those who suffer, those who are in need.

Wyll absently reaches for his vest pocket where a gold chain hangs and rubs the links between his fingers. He’s had it as long as he can remember. A gift. An inheritance.

His feet will not move.

“Are you all right?” says a voice from beside him.

He turns to find a human woman standing there, perhaps ten or so years his senior. Wyll is a tall youth, yet she nearly matches his height. A beauty, certainly, with flawless skin and crystalline blue eyes, her shoulder-length auburn hair swept back underneath a ceremonial headpiece. He’s unfamiliar with the iconography, but it’s clearly important for her to display it so prominently.

“Yes, saer, thank you for your kindness,” Wyll responds, inclining his head to her. “Simply lost in thought.”

The woman hums, giving him a slight smile and turning her gaze onto the monastery. “The Broken God is quite keen on keeping his lambs lost, I suppose.”

Wyll’s brow twitches ever so slightly. It’s fallen out of fashion to refer to Ilmater as The Broken God. “He’s led me here, has he not?” he says. “No better place for one to be of service.”

She gives a light laugh and then goes wide-eyed, seeming to realize her offense. “My apologies, young saer. My mouth got ahead of me. I meant no disrespect to you or your patron.”

It’s Wyll’s turn to laugh. “No, I am not of Ilmater’s clergy. I uphold his teachings as best I can, but the god and I, we… ah.” He bites his cheek, considering his next words. “Have our differences,” he finishes weakly.

The woman tilts her head and looks him over. “What god does a man of the people worship if not the god of those suffering most?”

Wyll arches a brow at her and she shifts her eyes over to the children playing nearby. “I saw you handing out coin just now.”

“Subtle as I try to be, I can never quite manage,” he says, reaching up a hand to rub the back of his neck. “Guilty as charged. To answer your question… none.”

“Interesting,” the woman says. “You do so seem like the type. I mean that as a compliment, by the way.”

“Then I shall take it as such,” Wyll says. “Forgive me, I don’t recognize your symbol.” He indicates her headpiece.

She smiles, then. “A lady looking to strike a deal,” she says. “One who always gets her man.”

His brow furrows again. “I see. Well. My apologies for my sudden leave, but I’ve come here on business and I should get to it.”

“Of course,” the woman says, nodding her head to him. “Do take care.”

Wyll pays her a tight smile and turns toward the postmaster, intending to bring up the mess his delivery system leaves once again.

Behind his back, the woman’s smile goes sly, her eyes briefly flashing red.

“See you soon,” she says.

#wyll ravengard #bg3 wyll #baldurs gate wyll #wyllstravaganza2024 #wyll week #wyllweek2024 #wyllweek #kitten writes #wyllstravaganza

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randyortonofficial · 20 days

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title: build our kingdom pairing: randy orton/cody rhodes word count: 2759 important tags: fluff, humor description: It’s the biggest night of Cody Rhodes’ life, therefore, it’s the biggest night of Randy Orton’s life. Cody has always wanted to do this on his own, but when they both learned Cody was going to beat Roman Reigns at Wrestlemania for the title, Cody didn’t even think twice before telling Randy he had to be out there with him at the end to begin the celebration.

April 7th, 2024

It’s the biggest night of Cody Rhodes’ life, therefore, it’s the biggest night of Randy Orton’s life.

Cody has always wanted to be his own man. He didn’t want to live in anyone’s shadow, or be anyone’s understudy, and because of that, he and Randy don’t really share any screentime together. He doesn’t want people to think he got here solely because of his friendship, or now, relationship with him. It’s something Randy has always respected, and one of the reasons why Randy likes him so much to begin with - that burning desire to make a name for himself without anyone’s help.

But when they both learned Cody was going to beat Roman Reigns at Wrestlemania for the title, Cody didn’t even think twice before telling Randy he had to be out there with him at the end to begin the celebration.

Everyone in that arena is overcome with emotion for Cody, no matter who it is. Fans, commentary, even Samantha Irwin, the ring announcer, can not contain herself as she stammers through announcing the new undisputed champion.

And Randy Orton, a man infamous for displaying little emotion, is having a hard time containing himself also as he heads down the ramp and up the stairs to the ring to kneel down right beside his husband with a reassuring hand right on the back of his neck.

“You did it,” Randy manages to get out softly. “You made it, Cody.”

Cody looks up to Randy with the biggest, boyish smile as he clings tighter onto his hard earned world title. “I couldn’t have done this without you.”

In front of everyone, they lean in to capture each other’s lips at the same time in a chaste display of affection before Cody drops his head against Randy’s chest. Randy wraps his arms around Cody tight and closes his eyes.

“Gonna make me cry, man,” he huffs a chuckle.

“Come on, I’m the crier between us,” Cody teases. “And the people aren’t prepared for Randy Orton’s tears of joy-”

“I give a fuck about you. Who cares about everyone else?”

Cody snorts as he pulls away to look into Randy’s glassy eyes. Despite his teasing, Cody finds himself tearing up more seeing the first tear drop down Randy’s cheek. He pouts a little as they both bring a hand up to wipe the tears away from each other, little chuckles shared at the fact that they’re crying together in front of millions and millions of people, before they take each other’s hands to stand up on their feet.

Randy sniffs and pats Cody’s chest, right above his Dream tattoo. “Go show off.”

With a prompt nod, Cody turns to head to the ref so he can be paraded around the ring with his new title. Randy stands at the ringposts and takes it all in, the electricity of the crowd and the infectious glee his husband displays as he holds up his title for all to see, as he looks around at all his adoring fans, as he looks up to the Wrestlemania sign before saying, “I did it, dad. I won.”

Randy has to shut his eyes tightly to try and hold back the tears that are trying to come through again.

Cody has been through so much to get to this point. He’s literally bled and sweat for this. This is all Cody has wanted, ever since he was a little boy, and no matter what, even when he left WWE to travel around the world in the indy scene and eventually create AEW, that was always his end goal - to main event Wrestlemania, become the world champion, and make his dad and their legacy proud.

Even if Dusty isn’t physically here, Randy can feel his spirit permeating over the ring. It’s kind of overwhelming how much he can feel him, moreso, how proud he is of his son.

When Cody looks back to Randy with tears rolling down his cheeks, Randy knows that Cody can feel it too.

The ring soon fills up with all of their friends and family, from the likes of John Cena all the way to Alanna, all dressed in true American Nightmare branding for her stepfather. Randy has his whole life to spend with Cody, so he stays out to the side to let everyone give their congratulations and support, hugs and handshakes and what not, and he’s laughing with joy as Sami and Jey hoist Cody high up into the air.

Randy’s won a million world titles, but he’s never had a celebration quite like this. He’s never been on the cover of a WWE game, he’s not the face of WWE, he hasn’t won back-to-back Royal Rumbles, nor does he want any of that. Cody’s accomplishments are his own, and they are what set him apart from everyone else.

Cody said he always wanted to be like Randy, but he doesn’t anymore. Now, he can be like Cody.

John comes on over to pat Randy’s ass. “You did good, man.”

Randy huffs a fond breath through his nose and quirks a small grin. “He’s worked so hard,” he tells him. “We’ve been through so much, I…” He bites his lip and shakes his head. “This still doesn’t feel real.”

John shrugs. “Agree to disagree. Listen, if Cody could tame your wild ass and get you to like guys,” he raises a knowing eyebrow and smirks, “then winning the world title in the main event at Wrestlemania is a cake walk.”

Randy scoffs and pushes John away by the shoulder. As he gives Cody his attention again, he sees Sami smiling over at him and waving him over.

“Come on, dude!” Sami says. “Show him off to the world!”

Cody’s eyes widen as he looks back and forth between the two men. “Guys, no, no, no-”

Randy is laughing maniacally as he comes on over to hoist Cody up into the air with Sami. Cody, despite his protests, rolls his eyes and shakes his head with a fond grin as he rests a hand on Randy’s upper back. After some seconds, he looks down to Randy and Randy looks up to him in return.

In that moment, the entire world turns into a monochromatic blur.

They’re staring into each other’s blue eyes so thoughtfully. Their lives together flash by in seconds; from the first time they met, to their first kiss, to getting together, moving in, getting married, and everything in between.

Seventeen years, they’ve known each other.

Fourteen years, they’ve been together.

Ten years, they’ve been married.

This year, they’ve achieved everything they’ve set out to do, and best of all, they did it together.

Randy blinks slowly at Cody before his lips upturn into a proud, but loving smile, the most loving one he thinks he’s ever given Cody, and Cody thinks so too since Randy can see him trying hard to hold back his tears again.

Cody’s hand comes up to hold the back of Randy’s head, fingers gently scratching against him. As his eyes travel over his husband’s face, he asks, “until the end of time?”

“I know you’re the one for me,” Cody tells him. “I’ve always known that but - I swear, everyday, I get reminders of it. How… how perfect you are for me, how perfect we are for each other and…” He closes his eyes tightly. “I just can’t believe we’re here,” he whispers.

“It’s okay, Codes,” Randy whispers back. “I can’t either, but we are here. This is real, all of this is.” He threads his fingers through Cody’s hair to give a slight tug and Cody looks up into Randy’s eyes, only for a second, because Randy is pressing their lips together. It’s a few moments and then they’re properly looking into each other’s eyes again.

Randy’s smile sets Cody at ease once more.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Randy tells him. “Neither is any of this. You’re with me forever, Cody, and I’m going to take care of you and do everything for you until the end of time.”

Cody smiles, in the way Randy loves so dearly, with his eyes crinkling and Randy’s heart flipping upon the sight. Quietly to his new husband, Cody tells him, “until the end of time, Randy.”

Randy nods solemnly. “Until the end of time, baby.”

Then, Cody is let down so they can celebrate in the ring all over again.

Randy runs his hands down his face before clasping his hands in front to help hide his expression. He averts his gaze from Cody to gather himself, and he swears if he leans in and squints, he can see Seth tightly hugging Roman at the end of the ramp and very tenderly carding his fingers through his hair.

Looks like they’re not the only ones to have an intimate moment together tonight.

Everyone begins to filter from the ring, one by one, until Cody is left standing in the middle with Randy on the outside.

With one final look to each other, they smile once more, and then suddenly, Cody is cheering loudly and spreading his arms wide out, gold title on display around his waist as the many, many fireworks shoot up into the sky. Interplays of color cast over the stadium, from red to yellow to blue, but the shade that stands out most of all is the elusive shade of Cody Rhodes.

They walk each other up the ramp, hand in loving hand. Cody continues to wave and play to the crowd, acknowledging every single person that even looks his way, but all Randy can do is look at Cody, look at his husband, and think of how far he’s come and how much he’s earned his spot.

It’ll always be him and Cody.

Then, now, and until the end of time.

Once they make it backstage, away from any and all prying eyes, Randy feels completely comfortable again, and because of that, it leads way for him to let the tears freely roll down his cheeks. He has to hold a hand up over his face and press down hard, even squeezes hard at Cody’s hand, and Cody stops in his tracks to turn to Randy.

“What did we say, Randy?” Cody chuckles, but it doesn’t have much humor to it - rather, a tinge of concern. “I’m the crier-”

“Man, I’m just so fucking proud of you.” Randy drops his hand to look down into Cody’s eyes. “Nobody else deserves this more than you, and I - I’ve been fucking waiting for this moment forever, ever since Legacy, and now it’s here and…” He presses his lips tightly together and shrugs. “I dunno. I dunno how to deal with it-”

“You don’t know?” Cody scoffs and lets go of Randy’s hand to settle his own two hands over his title. “How do you think I feel? I…” He looks down to his title and lets out a shaky gasp. “I… I-I’m the world champion, Randy. I-I won. I won in the main event-”

“Of Wrestlemania,” they both finish together. They both can’t help but chuckle earnestly as they look back into each other’s eyes again.

Cody looks over Randy’s face again. His hands curl tightly into fists, as if to restrain himself, before shaking his head and bringing them up to hold Randy’s face in his hands.

“I wouldn’t be here today without you,” he reminds him. “I wouldn’t be who I am today without you, Randy. I talk a whole lot about how I wanted to get here by myself, with no help from anyone, how I wanted to be independent and get out from people’s shadows, and I did but I’d be beyond stupid to think I wouldn’t be here without you. You were so instrumental in my journey, from my growth not just in my career, but as a person. You taught me what matters, you showed me how to ground myself, how to prepare myself for the worst, you showed me the world, Randy…” Cody lets out a long sigh and closes his eyes as he presses his forehead to Randy’s.

“You showed me the world, and you gave me the world.”

Randy brings his hands up to hold onto Cody’s shoulders and takes a deep breath. “I love you, Cody,” he whispers into the sliver of space between them. “More than anything. You’ve come so far. You’ve dealt with so much fucking shit and you proved everyone wrong, proved them all wrong and I knew you were going to, I knew it-”

“You believed in me since day one,” Cody gasps. “You believed in me when no one else did, Randy. You always believed in me, even the times when I didn’t believe in myself. In my darkest hours, you were there. You were always there and that’s why I’m here.”

Randy’s not too good at words. Never has, never will, though being with Cody has strengthened his vocabulary considerably. He’s always expressed himself best through actions, so it makes sense to Cody when Randy surges forward then and there to claim his lips so passionately and tenderly.

All the things Randy wants to say to Cody is done with one powerful kiss, and it’s worth a thousand words, each single one waxing poetic of how strongly he feels for his husband and all he’s been through in his 38 years of living.

Their lips drag away from each other so slowly, and they steal one more kiss before pulling away enough to gaze into each other’s eyes-

“Don’t think about it.”

Cody and Randy furrow their eyebrows and look over to see Hunter with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Think about what?” Cody asks.

“I don’t care how long you guys have been waiting for this moment,” Hunter tells them. “It does not give you an excuse to have incredibly loud, rough sex all over the locker room.”

“Come on, man, it’s a special day!” Randy groans as he drops his hands from Cody’s shoulders. “And you know how special it is too!”

“Please, Hunter?” Cody widens his baby blue eyes ever so slightly at his boss. “You know how much I’ve been through to get here-”

Hunter sighs. “Look, nobody knows better than me-”

“And do you remember? When you were the one that wanted to have that kind of sex with me?”

Hunter huffs and shakes his head before quirking a grin. “Sure, I did until I realized how disgustingly in love you two were with each other…” Then, with squinted eyes, he presses his lips together. He looks back and forth between Cody and Randy, and Cody and Randy just look to each other wondering what the hell Hunter is thinking about before suddenly, Hunter is groaning out loud and flinging his hands in the air.

“Okay!” Hunter sighs and holds up a finger. “Just this once, I will not say a thing.”

Cody and Randy smile big and high five each other.

“Fuck yeah!” Randy gets down on one knee to prepare to lift up Cody. “Let’s-”

“Not now.” Hunter raises a pointed eyebrow before grabbing Cody’s wrist. He looks over to the new undisputed champion and pats his title. “You got media, kid, and a big press conference to do. You guys can defile the locker room later.”

Cody rolls his eyes and looks back to Randy. “Catch you after the press conference?”

“More like I’ll be catching you.” Randy winks and clicks his tongue. “Better be coming to me with spread arms and spread-”

“Keep that thought to yourself, Randy.” Hunter quickly ushers Cody away. “Alright, so…”

Randy chuckles before turning around to head into Cody’s locker room to do just that.

Cody’s moans carry through the concrete walls of the backstage area and into Hunter’s ears. At this point, Hunter is used to it, so he continues to casually stroll down the hallway until he sees an intern staring rather curiously at the wall.

“Hey, kid.” Hunter shoves his hands into his pockets. “Something wrong?”

“Do you hear that?” the intern asks. “What’s that noise?”

Hunter allows an almost fond smile to grace his lips. “Just a ghost, son,” he tells him after patting him on the shoulder. “Just a ghost.”

As the intern walks away, still with an aura of uncertainty, Hunter looks back to the source of the noise. With a shake of the head, he chuckles before continuing down the hall, and thusly, into the new era of WWE; helmed by Cody Rhodes.

#candy #my fics #hope u all enjoy xoxo #god knows i did!!

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