ladykelsi 2025. please do not steal, copy, plagiarize, translate, or repost any of my works without my permission, including ai/c.ai/chatgpt/lore.fm and similar sites and softwares.
[navigation page inspired by the lovely @waves-against-a-cliff]
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boyfriend!xavier likes to text you when he wakes up. he likes to text you before he goes to sleep. he has a whole plethora of silly cartoon ‘goodnight’ stickers and ‘good morning’ stickers saved on his phone that he sends you regardless of the time, so dont be surprised to receive a message at 10:30 am from xavier, bidding you a good night of sleep with an attatched gif of a koala hanging on a half moon.
boyfriend!xavier who’s chat history with you is practically his digital diary. he likes to send you photos of the most random things he encounters. sometimes he provides very little context, but you don’t suppose it needs any. sometimes he sneds you selfies that are so close up that his bangs are in the way of the camera. he also likes to send you photos of your dates with him as if you weren’t present for them, or if it had been ages since the outing occurred.
xavi: (image) we looked so cute back then…
[name]: babe that was twenty minutes ago. you just dropped me off.
boyfriend!xavier who takes every tiktok you send him very seriously. sometimes a bit too seriously. when you sent him one of those ‘missing my gf so i baked her into a cookie’ videos, he sent you back an actual photo of a burnt tray of suspiciously you-shaped gingerbreads. theres a small fire in the background. before you could even reply, too aghast to comment, he started munching on one.
‘it’s a bit salty…’
’XAVIER YOU’RE CHEWING ON MOUTHFULS OF ASH!’
boyfriend!xavier who actually prefers to be next to you and watch you in your sleep, in turn to sleeping himself. not in a creepy way, but he can’t resist but admire your sleeping face, so calm, so relaxed…he cant help but to reach out a finger and squish your cheeks while you’re smushed up against him anyway. he cuddles you closer and buries his face in your neck, pulling the duvet covers over you both, like an arctic hare burrowing into the snow.
boyfriend!xavier who’s favourite sound to fall asleep to is either your voice (if you’re awake and willing) or the sounds of your shared home. he finds the sounds of water bubbling to a boil especially soothing, although you tease him that he only likes it because it sounds like a steaming bowl of beef hot pot, his favourite. he doesn’t admit that really, the sound of you flicking on the kettle, you turning on the tap, you boiling the water, you pouring the steaming liquid out, you rattling the teacup…is what affirms him of your presence. he likes such mundane, ordinary sounds because it assures him that you’re there, you’re by him, and you’re safe.
boyfriend!xavier who’s favourite form of messaging from you is either big paragraphs of text, or long chains of voice recordings. they feel so intimate to him, and he loves to read or listen to your ramblings. there’s still so much he wants to learn from you. plus, there’s nothing he loves more than the sound of your voice.
and of course, xavier responds to every single one of your texts and calls and voicemails, but why this time—
[sorry. the number you’ve dialed has been disconnected]
oh. right.
you’ve been dead for well over a year now. he knew the phone company would shut down your service eventually.
xavier rubs the sleep from his eyes. ever since your absence, your home has grown to become so empty. there are dishes undone in the sink from the last meal you ever made him. windows coated with dust. beds unmade. what the morgue sent him, still on the table. he couldn’t bear to do anything about it.
and now…a phone that xavier can no longer call you and leave you tearful voicemails on. a number that he can’t text you day and night to, with messages that he’ll know you can’t respond to but there are so many things he aches to tell you. a service he can no longer call to whisper to you that ‘i miss you’.
xavier throws his phone into the overflowing sink.
love that jabba in the original trilogy is like BRING ME HAN SOLO!!! HUNT HAN SOLO ACROSS THE GALAXY!!!! I WILL HANG HIM ON MY WALL LIKE A CHEAP PAINTING!!!! meanwhile chewie who no doubt also cheated jabba out of whatever they cheated him out of has no heat on him whatsoever. even jabba's not ballsy enough to start shit with a wookiee. no solid evidence chewie could rip a hutt's arms off but jabba is not going to be the idiot to test that
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baby anakin, on naboo, first down time in what feels like forever. qui-gon is dead, padmé is queen, he's never going back to tatooine, he can't see his mom. it's just him and obi-wan in their temporary rooms on naboo after the parade. the sky goes dark, and a strange noise fills the air. it's a pattering sound, like claws on marble. he looks outside and there's water... falling from the sky.
"don't cry, ani," his mom used to say, "don't waste the water, akku. save it, for survival. be strong."
but now, miles away from tatooine, anakin rushes outside to stand in the rain, the beautiful gift of water, barely noticing when obi-wan follows him outside. he turns to his new jedi master and says, crying openly, "there's so much water now. i can waste this little bit on not being strong. i miss her."
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So we can all agree that Mr. Terrific was not even a little curious about how Lois knew Superman and called him her boyfriend because he's seen Clark go to Lois' apartment, like, every night for three months via nanobot GPS tracker, yes?
foresight. can see and manipulate the future depending on how malleable it is.
[genuinely wish this picrew had pointy ears because that would be more accurate of what she is. also, yes, she looks like a menace and she is... but i promise you she's not as bad as she seems😅]
Summary: You have been friends with Kyle for a long time. You wouldn't jeopardize your friendship with him for anything, not even the blooming romance between you two. But the knife of loneliness cuts deep, and Kyle knows you too well to keep secrets from him.
A/N: Wrote this without much editing. I hope you all enjoy. This is a F!Reader who goes by the nickname Rosie.
Warnings: A Dyslexic wrote this. Angst with a happy end. Mentions of internet sexting and somewhat manipulative behaviors from others. Implied past torture. If I miss anything, let me know.
Taking on a knife in the middle of a battlefield was preferable to this. The cold, gasping pain that sliced between your left ribs as you watched the sun set over the beach below, with the music from Kate’s small elopement ringing through the dusk. You had married the pair yourself, medic of the 141, dressed in a sweeping cloak that showed off your bare back with a clip of yarrow woven into your hair. It was a beautiful, intimate ceremony, perfect for the pair.
Now, John and his wife were on the dance floor, Simon and Johnny were at the bar, Kate and her wife were sharing cake to the side- couples entwined in their love for each other. You didn’t want to think about where Kyle went off to after dinner- you tried to tell yourself it didn’t matter. It was a beautiful night. Something that was supposed to bring joy. The knife cut a little deeper. Mindful of your makeup, you rubbed your cheeks. You hated the knife of loneliness that swept between your ribs again, that crawled up your throat and left you gasping for air. The night was beautiful. You were happy. You were content. You were fine… until you saw how happy everyone was with their lovers, and some ugly part within you tore open and refused to be silenced.
Taking a deep breath, you closed your eyes as you let the sound of the waves far away wash over you, and the wind burn across your skin. It was strong enough to flutter your dress and assist the tears from your eyes. Lifting a hand, you carefully dismissed the wetness before it could fall, shoving the choking sensation down. You just wanted attention. You just wanted to feel special. You were fine. It was fine. You would enjoy this night regardless of seemingly being the only person who was alone- no… single. You enjoyed your friendships, adored your little family in the 141, but it wasn’t the same kind of love that you wanted, that you yearned for. It was the only thing that could fill the ache, that horrid void you tried to bury deep within you- one you weren’t sure would ever fill. The next breath you took came out small and shuddery, a painful quiet judder against the stillness around you.
You had tried to heal the ache, tried to stuff it full of anything. You filled your free time with hobbies, friendships, and work. Therapy helped for some of it, until it couldn’t reach that awful spot that ached. Dating- Christ, you had tried—blind dates, dating apps, bars, even. There had been no connection. And the ones that did? They ran after the first date, nobody making it beyond the third.
If you couldn’t have romantic love, you settled for sexual attraction. All it took was a few poised pictures of you in lingerie online, a few blog posts, and they came flooding into your DMs. You met a woman on there and thought you could love her. After a year of constant talking, she disappeared, only to revive herself from the dead four months later by sending you lingerie with an apology note, with no means of giving her your reply. You sobbed yourself to sleep that night, confused by the relief of knowing she was alive and the utter heartbreak of knowing you were not worth more than two flimsy pieces of lace after a year of friendship. If Kyle heard you through the thin walls of the barracks, he said nothing to you. Soap, questionably, didn’t tease you the next day at training as he normally did, however.
You rubbed your forehead and dotted at the wetness on your face, huffing at it all. You were so tired of the hopeful starts and disappointing ends, of thinking maybe someone would think of you as worthwhile enough to stick around. It scared you to open yourself up to that disappointment again. Especially as Kyle and you had started a bit of a dance that bordered on flirting. You were sure he was having fun, teasing you as he did with Soap from time to time.
“Beautiful view,” Kyle’s voice cut clear through the air, the knife between your ribs sliding deeper to hide from his knowing gaze. You hadn’t noticed him walk up to you, silent like a cat. Blinking hard, you took a shaky breath to steady your emotions.
“It is,” you agreed, looking anywhere but his eyes, knowing he would see beneath the beautiful façade you had painted on for the night. Kyle had a habit of seeing even the parts of you that were buried so deeply in shadows, it was hard to bring them to light, lest they shriek at the daylight. He had a knack for seeing through shadows. It made him lethal in undercover ops, and in the dark rooms you refused to join your team in, not after being captured and going through your own hell before the 141 found you.
“You looked lonely.”
A simple, cutting statement of clarity, you couldn’t deny it fast enough for the lie to be believable. Pressing your lips together, you shrugged as your eyes dropped to the waves reflecting the sparkling sunset.
“I didn’t want to bother any-”
“You’ve been crying.”
“It’s windy, Kyle,” you huffed. “Makes my eyes water.”
“And, what was it? It was your allergies that made your eyes ‘water’ during the movie last week,” Kyle laughed gently as you rolled your eyes and shoved his shoulder as hard as you dared in public. You forced a smile on your lips, but it felt wrong and hurt. You dared not look at him. You were fine. You were happy. You were…
The knife twisted harder, and you stifled a gasp as that ugly void within you peeled open like when you accidentally split open your stitches after the capture. Nausea rose within you. Kyle made a sound beside you; it was the contemplation of his choices, sound.
“You did a nice job officiating today,” He offered. “Kate’s family had lots of nice things to say about you.”
“Hm, better than lots of mean things to say. I was nervous.” You shivered as the wind fluttered your cape. Grabbing the edges, you tried to pull it to cover your bare arms, but it was a flimsy gauze that wasn’t made to cover. A simple decoration. You huffed as the fine fabric refused to cover your arms, dancing back into place behind you.
“Hm, couldn’t tell, lovie. Maybe because you looked so pretty doing it,” Kyle spoke as he draped his jacket over your shoulders, hands rubbing your arms as if to warm you up before sliding off of your skin. You chased the feeling, the solid weight of his hands, with eyes fluttering, before realizing what you were doing. Opening your eyes, you muttered a thanks and leaned away from him, tugging the jacket more secure. It smelled like him, the lingering coconut of the hair product he used, the clean, woodsy scent of his cologne. You inhaled deeply, savoring the scent.
The most beautiful man to walk this planet thought you looked pretty. Your cheeks warmed as you flicked your eyes to his for the first time, but then you narrowed your eyes at him. Was he telling the truth? Or was this another game? He leaned with his forearms on the railing, watching you with a gentle smile. You couldn’t help the flutter in your heart. Kyle was so good at making you feel safe and protected, watching your back on the field and at home.
“Don’t say things just to be nice, Kyle. You should know better.” It was a brash attempt at protecting yourself, hiding the wound between your ribs.
His brow knitted as he straightened and turned his body to yours, grasping your chin in his hand. It was a familiar touch, one guaranteed after every mission. He once told you it was to make sure their darling medic was checked on, since there was no medic for you. His eyes softened as you made eye contact for the first time. His thumb brushed under your eye as if sweeping away tears that were long gone.
“You should know better than to think I care about niceties, Rosie,” Kyle hummed before leaning down to your ear, brushing his free hand to your waist to your hip. The breath caught in your lungs as his lips brushed the shell of your ear. You covered his hand with yours and closed your eyes. “Get out of that pretty little head, dove. You’re torturing yourself.”
He pulled back and took your hand, boyish grin spreading on his face, as he said, “Come on, let’s dance.”
You blinked at him, thoughts trying to come back to you, but his grin turned into a full smile with teeth as he gave your hand a little tug, breaking out of your stupor.
“You’re incorrigible, Kyle,” you huffed. Kyle tugged your hand again, and you let your feet stumble into his arms. With your hands on his chest, Kyle tightened his arms around you, hands finding a home on your hips like they belonged there. They certainly felt like they belonged there as they gripped the fat under your skin.
“You’ve yet to see how… incorrigible… I can be, my love,” He whispered, a sparkle in his eye.
“You play that line with every woman?” You teased, trying to barricade the thumping of your eager heart.
Kyle sniggered, a dangerous glint flickering under his gaze. The same one that flickered during the poker games when he had a winning hand that would crush Price and Soap in one fatal sweep of the hand. Your breath caught as your eyes widened, realizing that he knew. It didn’t matter how barricaded your heart was, what bricks you threw to divert him from your trail. Kyle saw everything.
“If you think there has been another woman besides you, Rosie, you’re either stupid or unwilling to see the truth,” Kyle softened his tone and muttered, “We both know you’re far from stupid.”
You narrowed your eyes at him. It was a carefully crafted fallacy you were incapable of allowing without refutation. A stupid person wouldn’t see the chess pieces he moved. But maybe… Taking a breath, you closed your eyes and took a small step around the barricade you had built.
“Unwilling is different than being afraid,” You whispered. It was a thread of truth, unwound from the spool, leading to what lay beyond the barricades. You prayed he would be kind when he inevitably left, like all the others.
Kyle exhaled, rounding his shoulders as if to soften his appearance. His eyes became soft, and he raised his hand to your face, soothing his thumb along your cheekbone as he said, “Afraid of what, my love?”
“Of this not working out. Of losing our friendship. Of…” You shook your head, not having the words to describe all that lay beyond that little string he now held. You slid your hands from his shoulders to his chest, resting there to feel the quick thump of his heart. Kyle covered your hand in his and tilted your chin to meet his eyes.
“I’m not them, Rosie. You’ll have me, always, as your friend first. And if that’s what you want, fine. We can be just friends. But I don’t think you want to be just friends. I don’t. And if it doesn’t work out, we will be just friends. Though I’m banking on it working out,” Kyle softly spoke, lips curving into a little grin at the end. You huffed a little laugh at his self-assured amusement and shook your head at him.
“I’d like to try. Just promise me you won’t play with my heart, Kyle,” You whispered, sliding your hands to the back of his neck, fingers soothing over the nape of his neck.
“On my life, I would never do such a thing,” Kyle muttered, leaning in slowly, giving you time to back away. Instead, you leaned forward and kissed him, letting your eyes flutter shut.
“Thank fuck!” Soap’s loud voice carried from inside the reception room, making you jump away from Kyle. You had forgotten about the wedding, admittedly.
“Took ye long enough to- Ghost, get yer hands off. Ya ken I’m right-” You laughed as Ghost scuffed Soap by the back of the neck and pulled him away from the doors to their table, cake in hand. Ghost made one glance back at you, and the damn bastard winked at you.
“We aren’t going to live this down, are we?” You muttered.
“No,” Kyle kissed you again, slow and sweet, making your heart flutter in ways it hadn’t in years. “Not until I catch them fucking again, at least.”
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Your fingers swirl softly in the burgundy tuffs of his hair, inching towards the nape of his neck where fluff turns into scruff. “Maybe, but I’d love it if she had your hair color.”
Valko’s head rests on your shoulder, slightly atop your chest. Laying in bed together, listening to the soft putter of rain hit the window, staring down at the swell of your stomach. Your precious little pup growing inside.
“I really hope she has your eyes, Val.” Those beautiful amber orbs that you fell in love with, you can only pray that your doting little girl is blessed with the same ones. “You just want her to be a mini version of me? Where’s the fun in that? Maybe I want a mini version of you.”
A large hand splays over your stomach, feeling your little girl’s fluttering kicks as greeting. She loves the sound of her papa’s voice, loves the feeling of her papa’s touch. Just as much as her mama does. “We’ll have more babies. Let me have this though, yeah? I want my first experience with motherhood to be with a mini of the love of my life.”
The first great grandchild no less, and a little girl? Valko’s family had already spoiled her rotten and she hadn’t even left your womb. Now, you were just as bad… though he may be worse. “Still, not fair. I want her to look like the woman I can’t live without.” His thumb caresses your tummy softly, a smile curling his lips when she kicks.
“She’s already feisty like you, look at her go.” You laugh, watching your tummy jump and your little girl jostle. “She’s got her papa’s stubbornness, his determination. She’s really shaping up to be a mini you, Val.”
“Our little pup.” He affirms rather than acknowledging your comment, only proving his stubbornness. Though, the smile on your lips can’t be stopped. Gingerly, you scratch at his ears, sighing as you mutter back. “Our little pup.”
I miss him like he’s my dead wife… trust me y’all regardless of the outcome I will not stop writing for Valko. Lads will always be 6 to me.
this clip makes me so emotional. i feel like this sometimes, at night especially. That the whole wide world may swallow me whole. That i’m wide-eyed in the face of god. that I’m not a victim of smallness but rather its loving disciple.
