justyelln

[justyelln]

the women ever

[justyelln]

Muse ᯓ ᡣ𐭩

; mydei x reader, reincarnation, modern au, artist!reader, titans are myths, mention of [name] (only once), implied chrysos heir reader, spoiler for story 3.1 (?), not proofread.

wordcount : 1,8k

i am not so proud of this. enjoy, regardless!

reincarnation is but a tale- something distant, unreal. the concept of 'another life' does not fit right to her.

one life was already hard enough. the idea of living again, somewhere else, as someone else-what was the point? what would she carry over? her memories? her regrets? her love?

love.. to who?

memories.. if she were living in her another life, was all her dream are from her past life?

a man.. her muse, one who she paint on her canvas. from the first time she saw him in her dream, he had always been her form of inspiration. over and over again, always the same face, the same quiet expression. a face she never met, yet felt achingly familiar.

her fingers knew the shape of him without needing to think. the structure of his face, his cheekbones, his nose, his mouth. it was like remembering— not creating.

a longing feeling so specific, it scared her. a deep ache. everytime she finished a sculpture, everytime she stepped back to look at what she’d made, one name surfaced.

she reached out, brushing her fingers gently over the sculpture’s face.

“mydeimos…” the name left her lips like a prayer, and it surprised her everytime.

reincarnation is but a tale, it is something she'd like to believe, even if the world gave her hints by her dreams.. reincarnation is but a beautiful story to make one believe in a lie.

and yet, someone so familiar is standing right before her eyes.

the same expression, the same face structure, the same name.

he stood quietly in the middle of her gallery, silent. his gaze fixed on a piece she had always been proud of— his sculpture. the one she always came back to, and one she had spent time perfecting it.

“you must be the artist.” the man said, turning his head to her. for a moment, it felt like time folded in on itself. as if the past and present were no longer two separate things.

she stayed silent, not knowing what to answer. that is the face she saw in her dream, one who she couldn't remember his eyes, no matter how hard she tried. he also got the same tear shaped tattoo under his beautiful eyes.

“ah. forgive my rudeness,” his voice, it felt so real. “my name is mydei— mydeimos.” his name, it is him.

reality took a second to catch up to her. “sir mydeimos.. this is a bit awkward, isn’t it? some of the pieces here have…”

“the same name as mine,” he finished for her. “and my face.”

mydei turned his attention back to the sculpture, and then slowly glanced around at the other artworks. paintings, sketches, small sculptures—each one carrying some trace of him.

“miss,” he said gently, “would you mind telling me the stories behind these artworks?”

his tone was soft, familiar. like someone speaking to someone he knew long, the way he talked to her seems familiar, it's not a foreign feeling.

“very well.”

⊹

there were many pieces in the gallery. and one by one, she told him their stories. to a man she had just met today—yet felt like she’d known for lifetimes.

some stories were light, full of warmth and laughter. others were tangled in emotion, too complicated to explain clearly. a few were quiet and deeply sad. but all of them had a shared thread—him. her muse. now standing beside her, real and breathing.

they stopped before another artwork. a large canvas, richly detailed.

in this artwork, it was not just mydei, but other people too, even her. laughing together in what looked like a bathhouse. the mood was bright—carefree, as if time had no hold on them. golden threads shimmered through the water, catching light from somewhere unseen.

"i feel like in this artwork, it is full of someone i've known before. i have no idea how'd i know their faces, but some of them are my actual friends in real life."

some of the figures were familiar to her—faces of her friends, people she had crossed paths with in real life. faces that are not only familiar to her— but also to mydei.

“some people in this painting looks like my friends, too.” mydei said, eyes still on the bathhouse scene.

she only hummed in response, though the quiet tremor in her chest betrayed how much that surprised her.

they moved on. mydei paused in front of another painting. the next artwork, a painting, of a figure just like him— mydeimos. walking away from the viewer's perspective. “then, what about this one?” she looked at the painting he was pointing at.

she stood beside him, eyes locked on the painting. It took a moment before she could speak. “as the title said— ‘the strife’s parting’, it's the last time ‘i’ saw him.” she said quietly

her fingers reached out, gently tracing the familiar tattoo inked on the painted back.

“every one of artwork in this place is connected,” she began, her voice slightly louder. “after mydeimos retrieved nikador's coreflame and became a demigod of strive— he left. he part ways from the city, from everyone, from me.”

her throat tightened. she wasn’t sure if it was from talking so much, or from the weight of those words leaving her.

“he left everything behind. for an endless battlefield.” she lowered her finger from the canvas, the atmosphere here was heavy.

she took a breath, almost too quiet to notice. “the continuation of this piece is not finished yet, and i'd rather not talk about it.” she murmured, her voice barely heard.

it's a painting of the last view she had seen, a white haired man, pierced his sword through her muse. killed the man that is supposedly— immortal. it's a painting, a dream she'd rather not talk about to anyone.

mydei didn’t speak right away. but she felt the quiet understanding in the way he stood beside her.

“you know, it occured to me..” she faced the man beside her, the face she had avoided this whole time. “.. why does he looks like you? his name, his voice that i heard in my dream, even..” her palm unconsciously reached to his face, which she startled herself by doing it.

“my apologize. i don't know what came to me—” her eyes welling up, she didn't dare looking at his face any longer. it hurts. it hurts seeing his face, as if the familiarity makes her feel like she is mourning someone she hadn't even lost or know yet.

“[name].” he called out her name, she looked at him. hesitant.

“would you believe me if i told you that this is not just a dream?” she blinked, a tear ran to her cheek. this is a possibility she'd rather not have. for her dreams, her memories.. are too tragic to be called a memory, a reality.

“we've met before, this— this is not just a dream,” mydei looked to the paintings then back at her again. “would you mind if i explain it to you?” he asked gently as he offered his hand, she nodded.

they walked a little to where the large canvas is, the painting with people in the bathhouse. he looked at it, serious, then sighed heavily.

“you've already known that this timeline— is ancient amphoreus. where titans were the main beliefs at that time.. and myths were written about them.”

“if you know about ancient amphoreus, you must've heard about the flame-chase journey, the chrysos heirs with no names— only described with each coreflame they hold.” mydei's eyes went to a girl right beside of ‘past’ her, a girl with purple themed— butterfly clothes.

“back then, mydeimos– made a deal with thanatos. the deal was, if there were a chance in another life.. he asked for his love to remember her past life, even if it's just mere hints.” he turned his gaze to the previous her, then to the her who was standing by his side.

“though.. it seems like it only makes you suffer, didn't it?” mydei's palm hovered near her cheek. he didn't dare to touch her face, even though he wanted to wipe the track of tear on her cheek.

“i.. have felt empty,” she whispered. “as if losing someone this whole time..”

“i never wanted to forget you,” her voice slowly breaking. “but remembering hurts more than losing ever could."

his lips parted slightly, words forming in the silence but never spoken. instead, he let the moment settle between them, full of things they both knew but couldn’t say out loud.

“it's not like i hated it, but if i could, i would just prefer.. to never have known,” she finally said, almost inaudible. “maybe then, i wouldn’t have felt this hole in my chest for so long.”

mydei is not one for words, he would love to just use actions. he had so much things to say, but never could. mydei’s hand trembled, still hovering near her skin. he let his fingertips gently brush her cheek this time, wiping the tear she couldn’t stop. his touch was warm—familiar. painfully so.

“i was selfish,” he murmured. “i made that deal for me, thinking that if i wanted something for the last time wouldn't hurt anyone. not knowing how heavy it must be for you, to feel love without context. loss without reason.”

“but then, you would've remembered all of this alone.” she replied, her voice soft.

he smiled faintly, an expression that tried to be gentle, but couldn’t hide the guilt behind it. it wasn’t the kind of smile people wore when they were happy. it was the kind that came after regret settled too deep, and all you could do was hold it.

“i would’ve taken that burden,” he said quietly. “without question. if it meant you could live peacefully, without that ache in your chest, i would’ve carried all of it alone.”

she looked at him, this time, it didn't hurt as much. she understood it now, and all has been done.

“were you always been ready to break yourself for the sake of others?” she shook her head with a small smile on her lips, looking at him with acceptance in her eyes, sparkling for one has solved a puzzle in her life.

mydei let out a breath he didn't even realize he was holding this whole time as he smiled back at her, “some things didn't change.”

her hand reached up to his cheeks slowly, cupping them in her hands. cupping them with such care, as if afraid he might disappear if she wasn't gentle enough. the warmth of his skin was real, undeniable. no longer a dream. no longer a memory trying to fade.

mydei leaned slightly into her touch, his hands finally resting on her waist, grounding himself in her presence.

“just like how i'll always remember you, even if i don't understand why.”

their foreheads touched, gently, instinctively. as if their bodies remembered what their minds had long forgotten. the closeness wasn’t rushed; it was comforting, full of weight and meaning.

“and i'll always be there to make you understand.”

[justyelln]

❝ — SOLDIER, POET, KING. ❞

𓏵 ( societal conformations shan't hearken to your voice, my dearest. )

८ sypnosis. FANATASY / ROYAL AU - societal roles are placed, words whisper. Soldiers wield a sword, heavy alighting for their own conscience - poets wield a tongue sharp enough to pierce the deepest of consonants, and kings wield a crown, barking the orders of ones' commandments, ruling with jovial. But to you, who observes, these roles appear much darker than appealed by the town's constant rumors.

(phainon, anaxa, and mydei x gn!reader separately) - wc: ~3.9k

@ warnings; nothing really , exploring character tropes and personalities through poetry and literary composition, ALL fluff !! Some darker connotations in Phainon's and small canon - typical violence ᝰ.ᐟ

── notes. based off of the song 'soldier, poet, king' obv, i had an awakening of this idea on the bus while watching a tiktok and after a multitude of procrastination and Macbeth essays I deliver this !! This is probably my favorite work yet, meanings & symbolism will be explained at the end (˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧ !

ᝰ.ᐟ PHAINON — there will come a soldier, who carries a might sword, he will tear your city down.

⟡ Phainon is a captain of the royal guards, a knight, he proposed his title to you with a sheepish grin. You did little to refute him, smiling in turn as his hand rested on the hilt of his sword, sheathed on his waist as he chatted your ear off in the town’s center.

⟡ But the sword he carries is far too heavy for his own conscience to maneuver, it’s thick with the blood, smeared with a discordant amalgamate of ichor, the iron taints at his hands as Phainon can only look down at it with tired eyes, his shoulders slacked, the sword, mighty – tall, but tainted, once again, he pivoted his gaze away, sure he was going to get sick, had he stared at the blood any longer.

⟡ Phainon could only bear one thing ascertained, he almost feels his knees buckle under him despite nothing pulling his soul down, his shoulders slacked – but he does not waver, no. Not ever. Not when he has the world on his shoulders. Makes him chuckle breathlessly, and humorlessly. Bitter.

⟡ Was it the world that was heavy on his shoulder, or the people’s hearts that was? 

⟡ He will bear it in tow. Phainon doesn’t question what – how, he knows he will endure his duties of his own gains, but – he couldn’t help but wonder, really, why is it him that endures? The soldier that has the sword tightly gripped around the rough calloused coil of the cleave of his hand, the very same hand that held you so tenderly that he wished he hadn’t done it at all.

⟡ Right – you. The soft you, the naive you, the innocent you that wanted so desperately to help him as you stared at his drained eyes, your hand gently holding his. He paused, as if turning behind to gaze at the world on his shoulders, his shaking knees and eyes with tire prevalence, and he only shook his head. Phainon places a hand on your shoulder, a smile returns to his face as he tells you to ‘not worry’, he is fine, though even he does not believe his own words.

⟡ But gods, he wanted so hopelessly to cry into the crook of your neck. About the wretched sound that he so abhorred when his sword met the flesh of his enemies. It’s necessary. He rationalized, though it did little to ease his guilt. He wanted to cry about the innocents that he could’ve saved had he come a little faster – if he had been better, if his iron infused tainted sword had swung at the head of the enemy at a briskier speed.

⟡ Maybe then, their families’ dining table wouldn’t bear an empty chair. Maybe then, he’d sleep easier at night.

⟡ Phainon realizes that he cannot confide in you with this. He drags his palm across his face at night when you’re sleeping soundly beside him – your face peaceful in the night light as a streak of moonlight caressed your fond skin, the tender brush of gleam made him smile, forget the sword he carried, the world he bared, even for just a second. 

⟡ After all, you were just a citizen, you’re not a hero, and he wishes to keep it that way. Phainon isn’t sure if he could handle it had he not been able to wake up without you on his side, without the warmth of your body embellishing into the bedsheets. 

⚡︎ ───────────

⟡ Phainon first met you when you were hunched over the pillar, hair tousled, clothes rugged with dried blood clinging onto your chiton, your face heavy – he saved you, as any hero would’ve, but you felt – different, from the others he saved the same day, was it the look in your eyes? He hadn’t known, but he soon found himself clinging to you when you were oh so adamant on repaying him back as a favor for saving you, you’d repeatedly bombard him with fruits, flowers, Phainon would say he tried to get you to stop, but that would be lying – because he didn’t. He loved your attention, even if your gifts began to pile up, he’d stash them onto his desk with a giddy smile as your visits became more frequent, and he began to seek you out more. 

⟡ Phainon is a soldier. A hero – the divinity that courses through the very embed of his soul is but one he cannot deny, he hears the people’s praises, the children’s hopes, the ballads – he hears it all. Phainon only sheepishly grins, rubbing his neck, waving his hand around with a weak rebuttal, claiming that they are ‘flattering him’, but in that moment, he meets eyes with the relatives of the people he couldn’t save, and Phainon could do little to attenuate the guilt he beheld.

⚡︎ ───────────

⟡ Phainon is really like your knight in shining armor – a soldier befitting the title of protector or hero. The titankin appeared to just get faster, if that was even possible, one name hurriedly slipped from your lips, and before you knew it, a firm hand was on your waste, his white hair tousled against the wind as his sword did quick work on the titankin, reducing it to a matter of dust, he looks at you. 

⟡ “You came.” You looked up to the white-haired male, your breaths heaving.

⟡ Phainon looked at you like you just said the most ridiculous thing, “You called.” He replied, his words betraying nothing of his expression. 

⚡︎ ───────────

⟡ He stares at you like he is looking at the sun. He could not help it – he knows, as his role, he shouldn’t get close to you – Phainon knows it well, and he knows it even more when he holds you in his arms, even with the blood tainted, you only nudge closer to him, and all he can feel is uneasiness at your comfortable form against his tense one. But god forbid, even if you were the sun, capable of burning him, he’d adamant on gladly becoming Icarus*, he’d – without reluctance – fly towards the sun if it meant he could spare even a look at you. 

⟡ Phainon would laugh if he fell from your arms, his heart wild in its systolic beats, because even fleeting – he saw you. Profusely, that was enough for him. He wasn’t a soldier when he held you in his arms, he didn’t hold a sword that carried lives, he didn’t carry the world upon his shoulders, no – he was him. He was Phainon. 

⟡ “Phainon, are you okay? You’re spacing out.” His name slipped out of your mouth in tenderness, a slight elicited from his lips as he focused his gaze on you, the sun hitting your face in bliss, your slightly furrowed brow worried over him, he couldn’t help but smile. 

⟡ “I couldn’t be better.” Phainon gazes at you. 

⟡ So screw it, if he had to shoulder the world’s burdens, if he was to be bloodied and injured for the nth time, his wants, his needs be damned – by Mnestia’s soft glimmer betrothed upon his ruptured stature, for you, Phainon would do everything a thousands time over – if the sun refused to kiss the planet that is Amphoreus, he wouldn’t care if you were still there, laughing carelessly as you held his face in your soft hands. 

⟡ No. He thinks, the corner of his eyes crinkling as he stares at you, your soft lips, parted as you hopelessly talk about another book you just read, and he can’t help the upturn in his own lips. No matter, I will protect you. Phainon never regrets you, how could he regret being kissed by the sun itself, after all?

ᝰ.ᐟ ANAXA — there will come a poet, whose weapon is his word, he will slay you with his tongue.

⟡ Anaxa is only a poet who writes as if he was running out of time, and by granted, he has been sending you wishful letters that by Mnestia’s warm embrace had shrouded you like no other, you hadn’t known words alone could be this impactful, surely.

⟡ Every word is an art, every word carries that of meaning. Anaxa is the personification of the words that shape the very being of expression – when actions cannot convey enough, it is only words that bring forth the tension that underlies in one’s fingertips.

⟡ A poet is free, a poet rarely holds his tongue in his mouth, letting it free as it wishes once a time. Sing – O muse, of the ballads that which you hold for thine dearest of melody, Anaxa – never runs out of words, no. He would never, could never. His mind runs in a state that his body cannot follow, the truth is existential to his very being. His words are a testament to his very soul, he is the truth, after all. When comes down, his most powerful weapon is not of his gun, but rather his words, the truth can be biting, and he is the very epitome of truth. 

⟡ But his words never hit quite like weapons do to you - rather, they’re ballads of a far-away humming choir, the birds seemed to chirp at his every word, as he laid his heart bare, his voice a melody that evoked even the simplest of action to be the largest.

⟡ And Anaxa, despite the words he may sing, is afraid that the faith he has is no longer, it hasn’t been in him, he is not enough, for his words are but one declared in a quiet whisper, how could he make his truth be loud? He thinks, and he never quite found the answer. The soldiers are strong - they command and bark their words with ease, the king never quite runs out of attention nor orders to spare, and yet he, just one of a poet whose words are his only access, is not one with value.

⟡ But you, oh he’ll sing just about any word to you. He’d sit by you under the moonlight ranting about the philosophical understanding that, everything is everything, the world is a paradox - everything is composed of something infinitely smaller (and you are made with each part of him that he tore down piece to piece to embed in you.)

⟡ He turns to you, his eyes half expecting you to wander your gaze where else, disinterested - but you only stare back at him, your eyes sparkling an endless notion of astral charts against the soft gleam of the moon, as you urged him to continue, perhaps that was when he fell.

⚡︎ ───────────

⟡ He doesn’t tell you this, but he couldn’t help but to sit down at his desk, quill in his hands as he addressed poems to you, the ink running along the lines as his words slur with the thoughts of you, because it has always been you. 

⟡ “Had I been able to press you upon the ground, and woven the simplest of love onto our mouths– too cliche.” He scoffs, scrunching the silk of paper up and throwing it elsewhere, placing a new one as he hunches over the desk. It had been late into the night, the sun almost akin to rise but Anaxa could care less, he started a new poem.

⚡︎ ───────────

⟡ Anaxa watches as you dip your hands into the river, he sits near, tucked under the shade of the tree, you called out to him with the softest glimmer of tone that was far sweeter than the strum of any lyre as the water splashed around you.

⟡ You maneuver the cool sensation of the water to splash into Anaxa’s direction as you turn to him, a smile adorned your face, your eyes squinted in the corners – heavenly. You looked absolutely heavenly, Anaxa decided.

⟡ “Anaxa! Come on, join me!” You smiled blissfully, the sun kissing your cheeks as you scoop a handful of water from the river in the cleaves of your hand, and he could not help but feel jealous of the sun that could kiss you so adoringly.

⟡ “I’m–” He hesitated, for a moment, considered joining you, to gaze at you up close, but he only stopped his words, “I’m good here, don’t get too soaked.” He decided to say, because had he joined you, he’d miss the euphoric trance of seeing you hold his heart in your palms from afar. 

⟡ Anaxa found that he preferred to sit back and stared at you. It was enough to watch you hand stride the woods, a smile appeasing as you lightly twirl a flower in your hand. It was enough to watch as you pointed to the skies, showing off your astrology skills, if you were wrong, he could care less. Hell, he would rewrite history to make whatever you said right. You were enough, far than enough.

⚡︎ ───────────

⟡ An old poet used to tell him, “love is born into every human being; it calls back the halves of our original nature together; it tries to make one out of two and heal the wound of human nature. Each of us, then, is a 'matching half' of a human whole…and each of us is always seeking the half that matches him, Anaxa, you must remember to find the half of your soul.”

⟡ Anaxa only raised his eyebrow in question, his mouth a frown. “Why must we? Surely one can function with their soul only, what need is there?”

⟡ The poet smiled, then lightly ruffled the young boy’s head, “Maybe so, but you have to see that love for yourself. You’ll know it when your eyes meet, because your soul has always been meant to orbit the other. It is Eros that brings you together.”

⟡ “Eros?”

⟡ “The purest.”

⟡ Anaxa only understood the poet’s words clearly when his eyes locked with yours for the first time – it hadn’t been anything different, that day. He lounged near the town’s busy center, the crowd bustled towards him and something–someone, bumped into his chest.

⟡ He looked down, you looked up–and Anaxa stared at you as if he had known you his whole life.

⟡ Because he has. He hadn’t known you physically, hadn’t known you through his eyes, but his soul has long known you as you touched for the first time, your souls embracing the other like a light finding the other in the vast darkness of the world. 

⟡ It wasn’t love at first sight–it was a knowing feeling, like he had held you countless times before, like he had murmured your name in a soft eliciting tone as he tugged you closer to him, the world forgotten. Your mouth parted, an attempt of words.

⟡ “I’m so sorry–!” You had muttered to him, he looked at you, and through touch alone, he knew you.

ᝰ.ᐟ MYDEI — there will come a ruler, whose brow is laid in thorn, smeared with oil like david’s boy.

⟡ Mydei is a ruler, he has always been destined to be one, since birth, the servants lightly smeared him with Pomegranate juice across the flesh of his forehead, their voices a cheerful radiance as his mother held him into her arms, the ceiling, embellished with gold and trinkets alike came to his vision. 

⟡ Mydei was a prince.

⟡ His throne has long been laid in thorn, embedded into the fuse of his blood as his mother combed her hands through his hair with a hum, she smiles. The shackles had long amalgamated with the wrists of his calloused hands, for the heir was just a boy whose destiny was tethered too soon.

⟡ “You are a crowned prince,” his mother murmured, a soft sound beneath the breeze of the opened window, his blonde hair sat a tangled mess in his mother’s fingers “but before that, you are my Mydei. Be it as you want to, but let that be enough.”

⟡ He had wondered what his mother meant, then. Obviously, he was Mydeimos – or Mydei, as his mother preferred to call him*. Why would he be anything other than himself? It’s only when he saw the people, whose words are disgustingly sweet as their mouths stretch a grotesque amount upwards, forcing their laughter at any word that came out of his mouth, hoping to get his favor that he realizes – they don’t see him for Mydei, no, to them, he is only the king.

⟡ Mydei doesn’t realize when he lived his life in a constant blur of advocacies in mindless matter – archery course, music course, martial arts course, sword fighting course, meetings where the blonde male is seated in the center, despite himself being 10 – knowing little of the political advances, military and financial magistracies. 

⟡ He does not wish for this life, he quickly realizes, when he sees other boys his age fighting, laughing as their wooden swords clang against one another's and they run around with glee – he realizes that he much prefers to live like that, free.

⟡ His life as a crowned heir to the throne was as mundane as anything could possibly be, the occasion where his mother sang him lullabies to bed was his favorite, “Your hands are so strong, Mydei.” Gorgo smiles, her son’s smaller, yet calloused hand grasped around hers, “I’ve got such a strong boy, hm? Tell you what, ma thinks your hands have carried far too much already. I'll wish for a day where these strong hands are used for love.” 

⟡ Or, when his father escorting him into town, greeted by the nice old ladies and their baskets full of assortments in desserts, he couldn’t help but offer payment for some, but his father quickly pulled him back, a stern voice followed; 

⟡ “Mydeimos. It is unbecoming to the royal bloodline for you to convulse in such intricacies.”, and he could only nod in turn, the face of his father left little room for arguments.

⟡ “Yes, father.” Were the only words he uttered as of late.

⚡︎ ───────────

⟡ When he met you – it was by pure coincidence, the male found himself wandering the later nights – away from his duties, away from a crowned heir’s place. He snuck out of the palace under Krateros’ nose, as his blonde-haired were snuffed out by a black cloak he allocated softly over his figure.

⟡ The skies – the trees – the townspeople laughing around, Mydei felt free, for the first time, he felt as if no royal restraint could tie him down, not anymore. As the soles of his feet danced around akin to the freedom of a bird, his eyes fled over an abnormal crowd peering around a stage, his curiosity quipped.

⟡ The hair stood on his neck as he watched a bard sing a melody so pure it resonated the very essence of him – he looked to the performer, and he found a kid not far from his age. Your hair fell in a pleasing manner, your fingers softly strumming the lyres, a smile on your face, and Mydei found that he could not look away. 

⟡ Your music was free – a chorus that followed no patterns in set, a harmony that hadn't been allocated to other matters, it was a diction crafted by your intricate of hands, it was a language fettered by little.

⟡ Of the music that your fingers had strung, the soft singing tune that left the plush of your lips, though delicate and grazed him – could not compare to your face, he stared, forgetting about his duties for a second. When he looked at you then, he was just a curious boy. 

⚡︎ ───────────

⟡ “What are you playing for?” The male’s voice staggered beneath the moonlight hue, your body, hunched over as you delicately strung the lyre effortlessly, the very melody attuning to the soft whispers of nature around you two. 

⟡ You hummed, glancing behind your shoulder with a smile, “Do I need a reason?” 

⟡ His eyebrow raised in skepticism, but he only sat down next to you, a knee propped up, “People usually do.”

⟡ “Maybe,” you turned to him, Mydei tried (he swore he did) to avert your gaze, but he could not pull away, it seemed, “But you seeked me after my performance to ask that, crowned prince?”

⟡ “How did you–”

⟡ You laughed, a soft reverberating sound in the stillness of the night, “I won’t tell, promise.” a smile grazed your face, as if you knew him already. He stilled, as well – perhaps stiller than the night, too.

⟡ “What’s it like?” He breathed, forcing himself to look up at the starlit sky, “Being free like that, I mean.”

⟡ “It’s nice,” You hummed, again, looking at the stars as well. You recognized one to be Andromeda*. “You should try it too, prince. Humans were not made to be chained to a place.”

⟡ The prince offered you no response other than silence, your lyre still rested in your hands, a quiet strum between the soundless night. “.. perhaps I should.” 

⟡ “(name). I hope I can write songs in your favor, prince.”

⟡ “(name).” He repeated, your name rolled off his tongue with a soft rasp of tone, his voice softer for a supposed prince, “..  Mydei, just call me that.” 

⚡︎ ───────────

⟡ You were right, it appeared. Mydei was better free – so much better, and especially around you. Without fault, the male would don a black cloak over his head each night to watch your performances, afterwards, sit in the starry patch of grass as you two allocated each starry constellations – it went on for months, it was a surprise he hadn’t gotten caught, you thought.

⟡ You were honest, refreshingly so. You were keen towards the people you disliked, but Mydei found your honesty an embrace he hadn’t known he missed. You didn’t look at him with forced affinity or wretch a grotesque smile for his pleasure, no – you did things as you wished. You didn’t feel the need to ‘warm up’ to him, didn’t appease him because he was the prince. You were the one free thing in his life.

⟡ The throne that awaited his seat seemed so ever far off when he was near you, the heavy crown wasn’t weighing on his head. Nothing was – just you, and the light strums of the lyre from your moon-adorned face, lit by the accentuated smile of the youthful moon that nurtured you in her palms.*

⟡ The two of you talked about this, and this and this – it felt natural as the words flew out of your mouth, and his reply as quick. Sometimes, you'd race, or pry Mydei to play the lyre (often to no avail, but it was terribly fun seeing him try), he'd press the wooden sword into your palms before taken an offensive stance with his own, the two of you laughed, brightly – where only the moon could gaze, tumbling down to the grass as the wooden swords were long forgotten, your lyre lying far away, for once.

⟡ You felt like gods on top of the highest hills.

⚡︎ ───────────

⟡ In a reluctant fleet, Mydei opened the door to his mother's room, suspecting his father was away, his palms lightly grazed the door open with a sheepish expression.

⟡ “Ma.”

⟡ Gorgo smiles, beckoning her son in, and sat by the edge of the bed. "Mydei?"

⟡ "Ma.. I think I like someone." A boyish smile was appeased on his face, the queen was taken aback, not expecting her son to be so upfront – she grins.

⟡ "And?"

⟡ Mydei looked away, a small tint of pink on his face as his lips pursed together the words that buried beneath him, "I want them."

⟡ The queen neared her son, a smile, soft – unjudging from her face, she takes his blonde tresses onto her fingers, threading the soft hair as she did when he was a kid, “Won’t you introduce me, Mydei?”

⟡ A hesitancy crept up, but the prince swallowed it, turning to his mom. He nodded. 

⟡ “(name),” His eyes peered into hers, betraying little of his inner turmoil. "I like (name)."

⟡ His mom smiles, “And who’re they to you?”

⟡ He absentmindedly turned to the opened window, the constellations that the two of you had memorized together in his eyes – the constellation of Perseus and Andromeda* stared back.

⟡ Quietly, he continued – “Philtatos.” φίλτατος – Most beloved.

⟡ Gorgo hums in approval, continuing to tread the kindly fingers through his blonde locks. Thus, disregarding her initial intention of telling him that she had witnessed him and you a few days ago, but dared not to interrupt.

© 𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐒 - all rights reserved. please do not repost, plagiarize, translate, or share my work on other platforms in any way, shape, or form without my permission. if found, you WILL be blocked.

NOTES:

- Phainon's allusion to Icarus is because Icarus is the boy who flew too close to the sun in the adrenaline of hubris when he adorned waxed wings, his longing for the sky became Icarus' downfall - I said 'kissed by the sun' because in some myths, people proposed that the sun (apollo, though the embodiment is helios) was in love with Icarus when he saw him flying so free. - Anaxa's poem was an allusion to Sappho's poem, a woman poet in the island of Lesbos, the tenth muse. Please check out her works, they are WONDERFUL !! - The old poet in Anaxa's is actually Plato LOL the quote is from his book 'the symposium', where his ideology is that humans were originally 4 legged and 2 headed - where zeus, fearing of their power, divided them into two and sentenced them to looking for the other half for lifetimes, hence the term soulmates - Anaxa's philosophy of 'everything is everything but infinitely smaller' is actually the real greek philosopher - Anaxagoras' philosophy ! - Eros is the greek god of love, similarly, 'eros' expresses the romantic love. He is not the purest but he is the most romantic of love - I wanted to believe Mydei's mother called him Mydei in preference to Mydeimos (in contrary to the game) because 'deimos' meant fear/terror in greek, I don't believe Gorgo wanted to see her son as the embodiment of fear, so 'Mydei' would be a better, gentler alternative, while Eurypon called him Mydeimos still. - The constellation Andromeda is a reference to a greek princess chained to a rock as a sacrifice before Perseus saved her, which is why I followed the dialogue with "Humans were not made to be chained to a place" - the 'youthful moon that nurtured you in her palms' is a reference to the goddess Artemis, who's depicted with the moon (though selene is the embodiment), and a guardian of maidens/young girls. - The constellation 'Perseus' and 'Andromeda' together presented love - the two stars often appearing together side by side. - Philtatos is a small reference to the song of Achilles, it is a word to symbolize the most dearest of love, meaning 'dearest' or 'most beloved', and while the feminine version is Philtate, this is gender neutral so I used the more known one. - SO fun to write this!! I am working on a band au for mydei next sooo keep an eye out <3

❝ oh lei, oh lai, oh lei, oh lord . ❞ 

[justyelln]

; mydei x fem!reader, take time after the 3.1 quest, not proofread, reader is a chrysos heir— sea nymph blessed by phagousa (inspired by nereids (precisely lady amphitrite) from greek myth), mydei and reader is in a relationship.

i've thought about reader checking for mydeimos's condition after the 3.1 quest. and i missed him SO MUCH that i had to write this. enjoy!

⊹

after mydei left the holy city of okhema, life carried on as usual. except, one thing was missing from her life. her friend, her significant other, her spouse— left for the long battlefield, without knowing if he'll comeback as the same person she knows.

it was then, she decided to do something so.. rash. without a word, she left the holy city of okhema. leaving the chrysos heir left without a proper goodbye, status as 'unknown', leaving her duties behind. she asked for phagousa's protection on her way to castum kremnos, with a bit spark of fortune, she arrived safely.

the ruins of castum kremnos, full of titankins roaming around, more than it used to be. it was natural, since the fallen mad king, nikador's coreflame has been retrieved. she looked around, she has been here— a long time ago. she searched for the quickest route to where she thinks mydei would be.

a quickest route sometimes are not the easiest route, as she had guessed, the titankins there are more than what she saw on the gate. luckily for her, she already prepared herself well despite not being a warrior— and her being a nymph helped her enough.

still, the battle was grueling. by the time she reached the heart of the ruins, exhaustion weighed on her limbs. the titankin were relentless, and her luck finally ran out. one of the titankins string their bow towards her, “fuck!” she cursed, as she tripped before she could even react to it.

that was until firm hands pulled her to a broad chest and crimson red stones pierced through all the titankin in sight.

she barely had time to process what had happened. the warmth of the chest against her back, the firm grip holding her steady—it was familiar, yet different.

slowly, she looked up.

the man standing behind her was unmistakable. it was the face she has longed for— "mydeimos!" a smile written on her face, her palm hesitantly reached out to his face.

mydei pulled her hand to caress his face, his gaze soft as he looked at her. “i'm here.” mydei nuzzled to her neck, inhaling her scent that he nearly forgotten. for a fleeting moment, he felt something return, something he had sacrificed piece by piece on the battlefield. a sliver of sanity, of home.

"why are you here? you're supposed to be in okhema." he asked, his voice gentle as ever— face still burried on her neck, his grip around her waist keeping her close. yet, worry lingers in his tone, it is as if he already imagined what could've happened if he was late just a second.

"i can't leave you alone, do i?" she answered while carefully carresing his head. mydei's eyes slightly widened, then he let out a chuckle. "you're insufferable." he said, raising his head and his hand cupped her cheeks.

"come on now, don't you miss me?"

"more than you know." that answer left her smiling— a smile that he missed, the smile that looks like the ray of sunshine down by kephale.

her appearance infront of him is enough to be a reminder— that everyone, including the love of his life, is waiting for him to comeback.

[justyelln]

i adore your last fanfic it was silly lmao😭, can you also imagine them having all sleepover and phainon keep on teasing mydei to always put his head on the reader’s legs to sleep and teasing mydei cause he know damn well mydei couldn’t ask such a thing so he get pissed to that gesture

I HOPE YOU LIKE THIS AND RHIS IS WHAT U EXPECTED :D

The soft glow of the living room lamps cast a warm ambiance over the small, cozy space. Blankets and pillows were strewn across the floor, a few leftover snacks from your movie marathon scattered nearby. The three of you—Phainon, Mydei, and you—had somehow ended up having a sleepover, though it was mostly Phainon’s idea. Mydei, true to his grumpy nature, grumbled about it at first, but he stayed anyway.

Phainon stretched lazily, yawning dramatically before flopping down onto the makeshift bedding. Without hesitation, he plopped his head directly onto your lap, sighing in satisfaction as if this was the most natural thing in the world.

“Ahh, perfect,” he murmured, nuzzling slightly into the fabric of your pajamas. “Your lap is the best pillow, y’know? So comfy~”

You chuckled, used to his antics by now, and absentmindedly ran your fingers through his messy white hair. “You say that every time,” you teased.

Phainon cracked open an eye, smirking. “That’s ‘cause it’s true. Unlike someone, I’m not afraid to admit what I want.” His gaze flickered to Mydei.

Mydei, who had been sitting cross-legged a few feet away, stiffened. His golden eyes narrowed, sharp like a blade, but his ears—traitorously flushed red—gave away his internal conflict.

“Tch.” He looked away, folding his arms. “You’re being annoying again.”

Phainon just grinned wider.

“Oh? Am I? Or are you just mad because you wanna do this too but can’t bring yourself to ask?” His voice was teasing, lighthearted, but the underlying challenge was very, very real.

Your eyes flickered to Mydei curiously, watching the way his jaw tensed. He looked like he wanted to say something, wanted to act, but his pride—or maybe embarrassment—held him back. You could practically hear the gears grinding in his head.

Phainon, ever the instigator, stretched again and snuggled even closer into your lap, tilting his head just enough to make direct eye contact with Mydei. His smirk was downright smug. “Mmm~ So nice. I might just sleep like this all night.”

Mydei let out a sharp exhale, clearly trying very hard not to react.

“…You’re doing this on purpose,” he muttered, voice rough.

Phainon didn’t even try to deny it. “Of course I am.”

Your fingers stilled in Phainon’s hair as you looked over at Mydei. He wasn’t meeting your eyes, his brows furrowed in frustration, but it wasn’t the usual kind. It wasn’t anger—it was something softer, more hesitant.

“Mydei,” you said, voice gentle. “Do you want to—?”

“No.” The word came out fast, defensive. Too defensive.

Phainon let out a dramatic sigh. “See? He wants to but refuses to say it.” Then, with an exaggerated groan, he rolled onto his back, still using your lap as a pillow, and stretched his arms over his head.

“You’re impossible,” Mydei muttered.

“And you’re predictable,” Phainon shot back, smirking. “Maybe next time, instead of sulking, you should just say what you want, Mydei~”

You watched Mydei’s hands twitch slightly, like he was debating something. And for a moment, you thought he might actually give in. But then he clicked his tongue and turned over, his back now facing you both.

“Just go to sleep.”

Phainon’s snicker was the last thing heard before the room fell into a comfortable silence.

But as you continued absentmindedly running your fingers through Phainon’s hair, you caught the way Mydei’s hand curled slightly near his chest—as if he was holding himself back from reaching out.

Phainon, naturally, wasn’t done poking the bear.

Even with his eyes closed, he smirked and sighed contentedly, snuggling even further into your lap. His breath was warm against your stomach, and you could feel the deliberate weight of his presence as he shifted just enough to make sure Mydei noticed.

“Ahh~ this is the life,” he murmured dramatically. “A soft lap, a gentle touch… Mydei, my dear friend, you wouldn’t get it.”

A vein visibly twitched on Mydei’s forehead.

“I swear,” Mydei muttered, voice tight, “if you keep running your mouth—”

“What? You gonna throw me off her lap?” Phainon peeked one eye open, grinning like he just won a game Mydei wasn’t even playing. “That’d be awfully rude, don’t you think?”

Mydei tensed, his golden eyes glinting dangerously, but the slight pink dusting his ears betrayed him.

You sighed, amused at their antics. “You guys do this every time,” you mumbled, still absentmindedly stroking Phainon’s hair. “Why don’t you just—”

“No.” Mydei cut you off immediately.

Phainon snickered. “See? He’s hopeless.”

Mydei shot him a glare, jaw tight. You could see it—the fight between his pride and his desire. His fingers curled slightly, like he wanted to grab something, but his stubborn nature wouldn’t let him take that step.

Phainon, still basking in victory, tilted his head just enough to rest against your stomach. His silver hair brushed against your skin, and his next words came out in a low, taunting murmur.

“Y’know, if you don’t do something, Mydei, I might just—”

That was it.

Before Phainon could finish, Mydei grabbed the back of his hoodie and yanked him off your lap.

“—ACK—!” Phainon barely had time to react before he found himself unceremoniously tossed onto the blankets beside you.

Mydei, still scowling, sat up and planted himself right beside you. He didn’t meet your gaze, and he sure as hell didn’t ask for anything, but his presence alone spoke volumes.

Phainon groaned dramatically. “Wow. So violent.”

You chuckled, watching Mydei’s stiff posture. “Mydei,” you hummed, tilting your head. “Did you want to—”

“No.” His response was immediate, but he still didn’t move away.

Phainon, rubbing the back of his head, smirked. “Denial looks great on you, buddy.”

You swore you saw Mydei’s eye twitch.

But despite his grumbles, despite his glaring inability to ask for what he wanted, Mydei stayed right next to you. Close enough that the warmth of his shoulder brushed against yours. Close enough that, if you shifted just a little, you’d feel the subtle tension in his posture.

He wouldn’t say it. But he wanted to.

A few minutes passed, and just when you thought things were settling down, Phainon suddenly sat up, his eyes gleaming mischievously. "You know what? We should settle this. Right now."

Mydei sighed, already tired of whatever nonsense Phainon was about to pull. "Settle what, exactly?"

Phainon grinned. "Who’s the better choice to sleep next to you, of course."

You blinked. "Hi, so what the fuck?i"

"I refuse to participate in this." Mydei deadpanned, glaring at Phainon.

Phainon ignored him. "First challenge! Who can stay awake the longest while cuddling you?"

You groaned. "Phainon, that’s not—"

"Shhh, we’re already starting," Phainon interrupted, dramatically throwing himself onto your side and wrapping his arms around you like a human octopus. "I’m never letting go, Mydei."

Mydei’s eye twitched. "You’re such an idiot."

"Correction: a competitive idiot." Phainon grinned. "C’mon, Mydei, unless you’re scared you’ll lose?"

A muscle in Mydei’s jaw twitched. Oh, that did it.

With an exasperated sigh, Mydei grumbled something under his breath before pulling you toward him instead, his grip firm yet hesitant. His face was turned away, but his ears were burning red.

Phainon snickered. "Oh-ho? Look who finally made a move!"

You sighed, caught between two ridiculous, overgrown children competing for your affection. "You two are unbelievable."

Phainon winked. "Unbelievably in love with you?"

Mydei groaned. "I’m actually going to kill him."

As if things couldn’t get more ridiculous, Phainon suddenly gasped dramatically and sat up. "Wait. We forgot the most important part of a sleepover."

You raised an eyebrow. "And that is?"

"A blanket fort competition."

Mydei looked at him, deadpan. "You’re actually five years old."

Phainon smirked. "Oh? What’s wrong? Scared you’ll lose?"

That was all it took. Mydei’s competitive nature flared instantly.

Within minutes, both men were scrambling to grab pillows, blankets, and whatever household items they could use for structural support. You, caught in the middle of their madness, simply watched as they transformed the living room into a battlefield.

Phainon’s fort was a chaotic mess, but it was ridiculously decorated. He strung up fairy lights inside, piled in an excessive amount of pillows, and even found some glow-in-the-dark stickers to add to the "aesthetic."

Mydei, on the other hand, took a tactical approach. His fort was sturdy, well-structured, and honestly looked impressive—like he had studied the mechanics of fort-building beforehand. He even lined the inside with snacks and a perfectly arranged seating area.

When they were done, both turned to you, expectantly.

"So?" Phainon grinned. "Which fort do you like better?"

Mydei crossed his arms, golden eyes watching you. "Be honest."

You looked between them, two grown men who had just spent an hour fighting over blankets and pillows, all for your attention.

And honestly? It was adorable.

You simply smiled. "I think... I’ll just sleep in both."

Cue immediate protests from both sides.

The next morning, war broke out in your kitchen.

You had barely woken up when you found yourself in the middle of an unexpected cooking showdown between Mydei and Phainon.

“I bet she’d like my pancakes better,” Phainon declared, cracking an egg into a bowl with practiced ease. “Light, fluffy, with just the right amount of sweetness.”

Mydei scoffed, arms crossed as he leaned against the counter. “Tch. She doesn’t need sugary nonsense first thing in the morning. I’ll make her a proper breakfast.”

“Ohhh?” Phainon grinned, whisking the batter. “What, you gonna make one of your ‘nutritious, balanced meals’? Boring.”

“You’ll thank me when you’re not crashing from a sugar high an hour later,” Mydei shot back, already moving to prepare something more savory—omelets, freshly toasted bread, and sliced fruit on the side. His movements were sharp, precise, the kind that came from experience.

You sat at the table, still groggy, watching the two bicker as they cooked. “Uh… I can just eat whatever—”

“No.” They both shot you a look at the same time.

You blinked. “…Okay.”

Phainon playfully nudged Mydei’s shoulder as he flipped a pancake. “You seem really into this, Mydei. Don’t tell me you’re trying to impress her?”

Mydei’s movements stuttered for just a second before he gritted his teeth. “Shut up and focus on your own mess.”

Phainon snickered, clearly enjoying himself, before turning to you. “Hey, sweetheart, you wanna be my taste tester? I promise my pancakes are better.”

Before you could answer, Mydei placed a perfectly plated omelet in front of you. “Eat this first,” he said firmly.

Phainon gasped dramatically. “Excuse me?! She hasn’t even tried mine yet!”

You sighed, looking between the two ridiculously competitive men. “…What if I just eat both?”

Mydei and Phainon exchanged glances.

“…Fine,” Mydei muttered, looking away.

Phainon grinned. “That’s fair. But mine’s still gonna be your favorite~”

As you took a bite of Mydei’s omelet first, you noticed him watching you way too closely, his sharp golden eyes scanning your face for any reaction. And when you hummed in approval, the faintest hint of a smug smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.

Phainon, seeing this, quickly slid a pancake onto your plate. “Okay, okay, but try mine now. You’ll love it.”

You did. And it was amazing.

Phainon beamed when you told him so, shooting Mydei a triumphant look. Mydei just clicked his tongue, muttering something under his breath, but you could tell he was still secretly pleased you enjoyed his cooking too.

And thus, the ridiculous cooking war ended in a tie.

And both of them asked for a kiss on the cheek as a reward

[justyelln]

In another life

[justyelln]

12:58

He's so gentle, almost unsure, holding your face- no, letting you hold his, cupping his cheeks. Your thumb swipes over the plush of his bottom lip. He can't look away. His ears are rosy, as are his cheeks and nose. How improper, he thinks, for a man of his position to be in such a state-

Mydeis breath shudders.

Oh, how he was in trouble.

"What are you do-"

"Shhh....lemme enjoy this moment."

"You're being ridiculous."

"Mydei."

He closes his mouth, turning pinker.

A smile tugs at your lips. Cute.

You kiss him softly, and he all but melts, the tension in his shoulders drifting away with ease as he relaxes- finally relaxes, that is.

[justyelln]

When they catch you dancing by yourself...

Phainon joins you right in, rather smoothly as well. As much as he'd like just ogling at how happy you looked in the moment, he cannot risk you seeing it as something embarrassing. Though nowhere near a practitioner, the Chrysos Heir does an impressive job at keeping your mind off of spiralling into overthinking by taking the lead. To top, he'll always pick you up and spin you around until laughter is coaxed out of your lips, mixed with the sounds of his own glee.

Mydei's usual habit is to knock before entering your room, as such, him walking in on you in a state of vulnerability is rare. But in the off-chance it does happen, he swears to Gorgo that he was equally as unprepared as you. If you're not too busy wishing that the ground would swallow you whole, take a look at the Prince ; petrified, flushed from head to toe and mind buffering — please remind him to breathe. He's just experienced falling in love a hundred times in a hundred different ways within a few seconds.

Anaxa is a master at this, in his own way. His instincts are quick enough to duck behind the nearest wall the moment his brain processes the scene, his movements are always muted enough for you to not notice. You'll never know of how fond he becomes of the music afterwards, how the memory alone is enough to make him smile even at death's door. It's debatable whether he'll ever slip up and give you the clue to realize that he's seen you dance to your heart's content many times. The scholar has no intention of ever interfering either, simply watching you twirl and smile revives him.

[justyelln]

adhd executive dysfunction sucks bcuz im just sitting there and my brain is like

YOU ARE WASTING TIME YOU ARE WASTING TIME YOU ARE WASTING TIME YOU ARE WASTING TIME YOU ARE WASTING TIME YOU ARE WASTING TIME YOU ARE WASTING TIME YOU ARE WASTING TIME YOU ARE WASTING TIME YOU ARE WASTING TIME

no work done no rest gained. literally no point of this at all

(to everyone who reblogged, donate and share @olagaza's initiative!)

[justyelln]

[justyelln]

Special edition Christmas fic where genin aged team 7 decide hatch their newest plot to see Kakashi's face: using mistletoe

Because if they trap him under it with someone, he'll surely have to take his mask off to give them a kiss! ...Right?

(Sasuke thinks this is fucking stupid)

The entire thing is just a fucking slapstick comedy as Kakashi goes "what's the funniest way I can go along with this." And decides he will in fact lower his mask and give a kiss to everyone the kids corner him with. But only when they look away / blink / their view is obstructed

The kids are chasing him around with a string on a stick w mistletoe tied to the end of it, and every time they miss seeing the kiss (and his face) hey scream even louder

Reactions range from "???!?????!?!??????" (Iruka) to straight up passing out (Gai) to laughing hysterically with a bright red face (Kurenai) to just sort of freezing up like a deer in headlights (Asuma)

Kakashi, having way too much fun, makes a shadow clone to pull the Sukea thing again. And the kids get "Sukea" on board, thinking he can take a photo the second Kakashi pulls his mask down for a smooch. Kakashi has WAY too much fun, essentially role-playing with himself and swooning dramatically. Then, at the end, Sukea goes, "Oh no the camera's memory card is gone, Kakashi must have stolen it :((" and the kids all scream in agony

They try to get him to describe Kakashi's face and Sukea gets all coy and goes "umm... its kind of... indescribable?"

(They get another person to try to snap a photo of him but they turn out to be a freezer so they don't take the picture. When the kids harass them ab it they just giggle a little maniacally ab his face)

This does escalate to doing this shit w enemy nin btw. Funniest option is obviously Tobi but I'm also raising u a really freaked the fuck out Itachi looking like an angry, surprised cat after Kakashi gives him a peck on the cheek (Sasuke is gonna fucking KILL HIMSELF)

Obito gets the full makeout session bc its funniest.

He shows up looking for a dramatic fight but like halfway through his villain speech, team 7 dangles the mistletoe over him, and he's so thrown off guard he just kinda "???? excuse me I'm kind of in the middle of—"

Kakashi, who is a) in too deep to stop the bit now, and b) recognizes a good way to throw off an enemy, fucking launches himself at him, pushes Tobi's mask up just enough to kiss, and starts to make out w him

His back is turned to the kids and they're all scrambling to try to catch a single glimpse, but he keeps his back to them as they scream and run around (thus prolonging the kiss)

Kakashi is totally checked out of the actual kiss, this is all fun and games to him. Obito is having a fucking religious experience wrapped in a manic episode flavored internal breakdown topped off with a very loud high pitched kettle noise that may or may not be confined to his brain

This lasts for like a solid minute before Kakashi releases him and readjust his mask, pats him on the shoulder and goes "sorry about that teehee"

Obito just kinda 🧍‍♀️ and they stare at eachother for another solid minute as team 7 screams and cries and throws up in the bg

Kakashi, seeing the opportunity to leave and avoid what was for sure going to be a potentially devistating fight: "cool. So, anyways. Bye lmao." And runs for it w his students

Obito is left tanding still as a statue in the middle of the clearing. After like 20 seconds alone he starts hyperventilating.

Merry Christmas everybody 👍

[justyelln]

GoodNIGHT girlies with mommy issues.

[justyelln]

Artober day 14: Copy Cat Kakashi (part 2)

[justyelln]

"WE ARE THE BLOOD IN OUR...WAS IT VEINS OR ARTERIES AGAIN?" / T. KUROO

if soon-to-be valedictorian kuroo tetsuro doesn't beat you out in chemistry, he might end up as salutatorian instead. but if he stops coming to your tutoring sessions, he also won't be able to fulfil his dream of giving a badass pep talk before volleyball matches. game is on, bitch.

pairing(s): kuroo tetsurou x reader

genre(s): cracked up fluff!! one sided academic rivalry to lovers, dumb and dumber, no rizz x no rizz, no experience x no experience, experimental because i experiment with how things are written and stuff this is my blank canvas

warning(s): ochem references (all hail ochem victims/survivors), biology references (ochem and physics are enough to make me cry, biology students are true soldiers)

status: ongoing

taglist: open! dm or ask for taglist

chapters:

PROLOGUE #1. GREAT EXPECTATIONS #2. TBD

[justyelln]

haikyuu!! neurodivergent headcanons 💕

tw: several listed mental illnesses, some of these are solely off of vibes but most of them I have reasons lol note! I do not believe autism is a mental illness or something that is "wrong" with an individual, hence why the title is "neurodivergent" rather than "mental illness". just had to put that out there! to all my neurodivergent babies I love you! a/n: hello! as a neurodivergent like myself (depression, anxiety, ptsd, bulimia, etc etc) i thought it would be really cool to do an analysis on one of my biggest hobbies (psychological illnesses) and relate them to haikyuu characters! some of them have a deeper explanation because I feel so strongly about it.

attention-deficit hyperactivity disorder (ADD/ADHD) BOKUTO, hinata, NISHINOYA, atsumu, lev

generalized anxiety disorder (GAD) sugawara, OIKAWA, asahi, yamaguchi, yachi, aone, akaashi, tendo

social anxiety disorder (SAD) asahi, KENMA

post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) oikawa

depression (MDD) oikawa, KENMA, kuroo, suna, matsukawa, tendo

autism sakusa, USHIJIMA, kageyama, kyotani, kenma

eating disorder(s) (AND, BND, BED) OIKAWA, KENMA

obsessive-compulsive disorder (OCD) oikawa

borderline personality disorder (BPD) daishou

insomnia kuroo, kenma, osamu

hypersomnia suna

analysis under the cut

it's pretty obvious that bokuto struggles the most to self-regulate, even to others, but I personally believe that oikawa struggles the most with his mental health.

like almost everyone in haikyuu, oikawa is obsessed with volleyball, but he takes it to a point of overexertion and taking his anger and frustration at his own inadequacies out on others.

I really think oikawa's relationship between he and kageyama and he and ushijima are the ones that show how bad his anxiety is

ushijima and kageyama both don't understand the emotions oikawa is feeling which could be written off as them not understanding their talents, but I think it's something more

to me, I feel it is blatantly obvious that ushijima is autistic. he just so frequently seems to be unable to read the emotions of others or takes things literally when it's something else intended. I'm not autistic, though, so autistic community, let me know your thoughts!

bokuto and hinata both have an insane amount of energy, but struggle to be successful in school. sports works for both of them because their focus is constantly needed to be diverted or "all over the place" that it helps them be great players

kuroo is one of those other characters that I feel like I'm reaching to say he has mental health struggles but to me it just comes off in vibes. first of all, any kid with divorced parents should be in therapy so I feel there's definitely some struggles there.

I think kuroo is the type that hides his struggles and pretends they aren't happening. he puts a lot of pressure on himself to be the best at everything he does, and so he feels he doesn't have time to deal with the emotions that leave him feeling empty

kenma was someone I immediately felt was autistic. he has so many key factors like an obsession/hyperfocus on his hobbies and trouble socializing (social anxiety).

kenma has some of the strongest evidence toward my beliefs, specifically in this quote: "I'm not good with people, and I don't want to interact with them. and yet, I'm very concerned about what others think of me." like, tell me that doesn't radiate autistic/SAD vibes!!!!

idk what it is, like inadequacies or what but I genuinely believe oikawa has some kind of trauma. like he's definitely carrying something that so heavily effected him that it controls the choices he makes in life

I don't have much evidence that suna has depression, it's just a vibe because of his mannerisms and what he says. I think it's the kind where it's well-managed, but it shows up in physical symptoms like apathy more than anything.

atsumu gives ADHD vibes solely because of like how all over the place he is and how he can't always seem to properly get out what he's trying to say lol

sakusa is one that to me could be seen as "done with your bullshit" but I think he also hates crowds (like me, I mean who doesn't) and struggles socially probably because of anxiety or autism. not sure!

basing daishou off of vibes, too, because if I'm being honest all I've seen in the show is him having hostile relationships or being on-off with them, though its certain I could be reading too much into it, but that's the fun of headcanons.

do you agree with what I wrote? I would love to hear your thoughts!

[justyelln]

hiiii!! do you mind if u make kuroo x albino reader who's a manager¿? (no pressure) fluff

nekoma's captain

imagine cw: fluff, reader is albino, manager f!reader x kuroo, slight angst??, not proofread

note: hihi hopefully you enjoy this little story, ngl i was kind of struggling to find a plot for this short scenario until it came to me bc i wanted to include the descriptions of albinism for the reader. hope it somehow meets your standards!!!!

*✧;..

In the gym where you’re acting as Nekoma’s boys volleyball current manager. Hair tied back into a ponytail that swishes side to side brushing against your light, pale skin. You’re currently outside filling the boys’ water bottles before their quick break from practicing and coming up with new tactics for upcoming tournaments. The sun was radiating with heat that felt like your skin was getting pierced. You’re on the last water bottle, hastily filling it to the brim before twisting the cap back on. Hurrying back in the gym to ensure your skin doesn’t burn from the blazing sunlight, you carry over the heavy water bottles and place them on the benches where the boys will rest once they call for a timeout. 

You sit on the bench, keeping your eyes peeled watching them practice their spikes and blocking. They were all getting stronger, turning a single spike down with their reinforced blocks as well as learning how to keep more control on their spikes to manipulate them around the court. Even though they were rapidly improving, Kuroo caught your eye. Kuroo seems sluggish whenever he was on court. You realize Kuroo has had this very frustrated look on his face ever since they started practicing. Even though your sight is very blurry from afar, you could tell his brows were constantly furrowed and his constant grin was wiped off his face, his energy was completely different.

The team calls for a time out to get rehydrated and res while they discuss how to make their new moves even more sharper and powerful against opponents. Handing out their waters right down the line, the last to receive their water bottle was Kuroo. He was sitting a bit slightly farther away from the others, looking down as he breathed in deep pants. Gulping, your snow white skin taps him on the shoulder with the water bottle. He looks up into your light piercing eyes, as if you’ve disturbed him, startling you. 

“Oh.. thanks.” He mumbled under his breath while flashing a forced small smile at you. Wiping away his sweat as he reaches for the bottle, he just holds it in his big hands, doesn’t even take a sip. You’re a bit beyond worried, no one’s ever seen him so upset before.

Brushing a natural white strand of hair behind your ear, you can’t help but feel the intense tension rise. You had to break the silence and cheer him up before he heads back on court.

“U-Um.. are you okay..?” With a lowered voice you asked him, trying to not pull the attention of the others onto him. He takes a quiet sip of water before angeling his head up to look at you. 

“Yeah. Why?” His face is stern and serious, brows furrowed at you with his eyes slightly narrowed. His eyes so still, you could see your reflection in them.

“Well.. look. I’ve noticed that you aren’t playing at your best today …Is something wrong that maybe.. I could help you with?” Kuroo just looks down and sighs. His grip on the water bottle tightens to the point his hand is shaking as he exhales. 

“I just.. haven’t been able to block like how I used to. I kind of, realized that somehow I started to feel weaker, that it’s like I’m suddenly falling behind everyone.. You know, maybe I shouldn’t be Nekoma’s team captain” a grimace expression appears on his face. You sit down right next to him, putting your left hand on his back to comfort him while he lets it out.

“Kuroo… you know what I think?” He turns his attention to you, ready to listen to what you have to say about him. Nothing you say could make him feel even more disappointed in himself than his own self doubt.

“I think you’re one of the most amazing volleyball players I’ve ever seen play on court. Your skills are beyond just a position where you’re able to call yourself ‘captain.’ You as a person, too! You’re the only one on this damn volleyball team to keep everyone together besides me. Trust me, I appreciate you looking out for them more than me Kuroo.” You’re in your own world talking about him, he’s watching you talk with your hands more than what your mouth can say. Your eyes gleamed whenever you said his name.

“Gee.. thanks I didn’t know you thought so highly of me. That’s nice to hear once in a while,” Kuroo’s lips curl into a smile as he looks up. His hand is scratching the back of his head. Your pale eyes burn into him as you watch him let out his last deep sigh of frustration, fleshing out his negative self esteem. 

“So… time’s almost up. You should drink all that water before the next practice round,” waterbottle in hand, he shakes a big nod at you. Chugging down his water and looking back at you. Putting his arm down, swishing the water in his mouth before swallowing it all down. 

“Ha, I feel so much better knowing you look up to me like that. I, thank you for choosing to manage the volleyball team with me. And as your senior, I’ll play even harder for you to keep looking up to me,” his silly old grin was back as well as his bright and chaotic energy. It was as if your little pep talk replenished him back to his old self. 

“No need to thank me, just get out there and show them what it means to be Nekoma’s team captain Kuroo!!” You cheered at him while gets up. He’s peering back at you thinking to himself. He had one more think to say to you,

“Alright, but um.. Before I walk off, is your hair naturally white?” A bit surprised, but not really, you heard around school that he’s into science and that biology chemistry stuff. You figured he was gonna ask you this sooner or later since you’re the only person at Nekoma with albinism. “Ugh, yes. Now get on that court and pounce on them! Stop stalling for time captain, you got volleyballs waiting get hit down by your strong blocks and spikes!!” You can’t help but shout at him since the practice was back in order, the boys taking in their positions while regripping their shoes, giggling as he turns his back on you to head onto his side of the court.

masterlist here

[justyelln]

They share their secret cute photos of Law.

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