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itsswritten · 11 months ago

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butterfly kisses

Pairing: Azriel x fem reader

Word Count: 1.7K (honestly it's just a little drabble)

Warnings: 18+, implied smut, lots of fluff, mating frenzy

Summary: Azriel just can't get enough of your wings <3

Wings Universe - More from this world.

Azriel wasn’t sure how he’d gotten so lucky.

He had thanked the Mother every day since the bond snapped, and even more when you accepted it. When Mor had introduced you into his life only a couple of years ago, he never imagined this would be the outcome.

Azriel vividly remembered the first night he met you. It was another gathering at Rita’s, one of the many that had unfolded, now peace settled over the land.

Mor with playful determination had pulled you over to their table, arm looped around yours– almost in a way that said she wasn’t going to let you escape. He had noticed the faint blush that creeped up your face to your pointed ears, merely from the proximity of your High Lord and Lady, and their inner circle. He recalled how you offered a shy little curtsy in their presence, that had led to the whole table stifling their laughter. Rhys kindly explained that such formalities were not necessary, especially not in Rita’s of all places. Azriel did his best to contain his mirth at the display, all the while chewing the inside of his cheek to stop the chuckle leaving his lips. He truly couldn’t get over how adorable you were, he'd found himself captivated by your endearing innocence.

And that was only the start.

Mor explained how she’d met you in town one day and had essentially thrusted her friendship onto you, and it really didn’t take long for Azriel and his family to do the same.

You were so sweet and caring, and slotted into Azriel’s life so easily that he found it hard to remember a time when you weren’t there at all. Your kindness towards the Archeron sisters, guiding them through the intricate transitions of fae life that they still at times struggled with. Nyx was absolutely enamoured with you, oftentimes seeking your company over his actual family. But they didn’t blame him, because they all did same. Your calm sweet nature was addictive to them all, especially Azriel.

Driven by an insatiable curiosity, Azriel found himself seeking every opportunity to unravel all your layers. He wanted to know everything about you. From your favourite foods, to the books that captured your attention.

His infatuation all made sense when the bond snapped.

It was the last solstice.

Azriel had noticed how beautiful you were looking, as you always were. But you were clad in a breathtaking pale pink summer dress, the neckline delicately showcasing your décolletage. As you moved with a natural grace, the fabric billowed ever so slightly at the waist, accentuating your silhouette in a manner that held attention.

Or at least held Azriel’s attention. He couldn’t keep his eyes off you.

He watched you carefully navigate the chaos of the room. Nyx in one arm, giving Feyre some rest and reprieve in her pregnant state. Your other hand bringing in the cake Elain had spent all morning baking. Amidst the flurry of activity, you had been so close to dropping the cake. But Azriel's steady hand intervened just in time, grabbing the plate and taking it off you. Except in that moment your hands touched, grazed past one another in a way they had so many times before.

But that time had been different.

It was Azriel’s turn to almost drop the cake. That all consuming warmth flooded his chest catching him off guard. A golden thread connecting itself to you. The mating bond. Finally.

And based on the bright red flush covering your cheeks, it was clear you’d felt it too. You’d fled the room then, overcome with emotion and what this new revelation meant.

Though, it didn’t take long for Azriel to coax you round.

Ever the gentleman, he courted you. Taking you on the most thoughtful dates and spoiling you with bouquet after bouquet of flowers. He would leave little love notes and poetry for you to find. That it was really no surprise to anyone, when you decided to accept the bond.

That was only three weeks ago now.

Yourself and Azriel were deep in the mating frenzy.

Rhys had kindly offered one of his private residences he had on the outskirts of Night. A smaller cottage, but with all the privacy you both needed. And Azriel had taken advantage of that privacy eliciting sounds from you that he would cherish forever and never tire hearing.

And then there were your wings.

You had revealed them to him the first night after accepting the mating bond, and, Gods, was he done for.

Azriel had taken it upon himself, in the earlier months, to really vet you. His dedication to his role as Spymaster served as a guise for his self-indulgent exploration of you, delving into the intricate details of your being with a hunger that bordered on obsession. Not only had he discovered all the things you love, but he searched for details of who and what you were.

Finding himself holed up in the library at times, hours spent devoted to aquainiting himself to the type of fairy you were.

He knew you had wings, was the type of fairy whose wings were the delicate kind. Most kept them concealed with magic. Yet, Azriel couldn't shake the thought that perhaps they were hidden not only for protection but also out of reverence for their breathtaking beauty. They were mesmerising. Enough to trap Azriel into some kind of trance.

And perhaps possessively so, he was grateful not many males were privy to this part of you.

He was watching you now, laying on your front. Bare. Just how he’d left you when he took a moment to freshen up. You were giggling, your legs up and feet fluttering behind you while propped up over something.

“What are you doing, my love?” Azriel purred inquisitively, stepping closer towards the bed.

“Oh…Feyre was just checking in. Asking how much longer we might be,” he could hear you smile when you spoke, and watched as with the brush of your hand the magical parchment and ink disappeared that you’d been conversing with Feyre on.

“It’s not even been that long,”

“We’ve been gone three weeks–”

“And we’ll be gone 300 hundred more,”

You chuckled at his response, “Az, we do need to go back at some point. They need us.”

“I need you more.” There was no negotiating. Your family would be lucky to see you both before the next solstice at this rate.

Not that Azriel needed the frenzy to be satiated by you, but it truly was driving him. The primal need for you, overwhelming. The pair of you only stopped when you both fell into a slumber from exhaustion. And even then, there were many times you found each other in a sleep exhausted haze, tangled within and inside one another again.

The bed dipped either side of your legs, you were still on your front but could feel your mate over you. He had paused though, his eyes falling over your beautiful pink wings. The iridescent skin reflecting lights across the room. He had almost cried when he first saw them after you accepted the bond, mesmerised and overwhelmed by their beauty.

Getting to see this part of you, a part of you that was so private, stirred a gratefulness inside him. But there was something else too, a possessiveness that had slowly been creeping up his mind recently.

In the past three weeks, you had both done every possible maneuver, tried every kind of love making– fucking, screwing, mating. You’d even made him a crumbling wet mess just from playing with his wings.

But he hadn’t touched yours.

No, they looked so delicate and soft, too beautiful to touch, that he hadn’t dared.

You felt him situate himself behind you, his warm naked body lightly laying on you, his chest resting on your behind. His arms wormed their way under your hips to get comfy, and you splayed your wings flat against your back to fit him.

“Az?” you asked curiously, glancing slightly over at your shoulder to catch him in your peripheral.

He didn’t respond though, not with words. You felt his soft warm breath blowing on the membrane of your right wing, making your squirm under the touch. Your wing fluttering a little in the air.

“How sensitive are they? Too sensitive for me to touch?” You heard him behind you.

“Hm..” you tilted your head slightly to think, “They’re delicate, but you can touch them. Gently.”

You were waiting for him to wriggle his hand from out beneath you but instead you felt something warm and wet run against the bottom of your wing.

You couldn’t stop the whimper from escaping your lips at the soft touch. Azriel had taken it upon himself to use the tip of his tongue to explore this part of you, a part of you that was still very new to him. He felt you wriggle under him, and he shifted placing his full body weight on you so you couldn’t move.

His tongue traced the ridge of your wing, and he wasn’t letting up. Not when he’d made that sound from you. He wanted more of that. He moved and pressed his tongue flat against the delicate skin, evoking another moan from you.

“Does that feel good my little butterfly?” he purred, you could feel the smirk on his lips against your wing as he pressed a kiss on them.

You wanted to roll your eyes at his teasing, but it felt too good to do anything other than surrender to his touch.

“I want to hear your words,” he spoke a little more assertively this time, before swiping his tongue along one of the tubular lines that spread like veins across your wings.

“Yes..” You huffed, before another moan slipped past your lips breathlessly. “It feels good Az…” You felt your body heat, your cheeks for sure rosy, grateful your mate could only hear not see the reaction he was having on you.

He chuckled softly then, the vibrations from his lips skirting across your wings making them twitch.

“My sensitive little butterfly, ” the new nickname only made you squirm more, your core growing slick at his predatory attention.

Azriel moved his hand then, the one caught under your left hip, so effortlessly moving down to your core, cupping your wet slit as he licked the pink shiny membrane again.

“Azriel…” you gasped, but his touch didn’t relent.

You knew this was only the start.

a/n: just some lovely little fluffy mating frenzyness! I just love these two, so I may expand a little more on the wings universe and their relationship if you guys would like to see that! Maybe some domestic bliss, or if there's any scenes you'd like me to write for them or parts of their story you're interested in then I'm happy to explore. Also this was written fairly quickly, so please ignore any typos, I only did a quick little check hehe - Lottie

p.s. also thanks to @thisiskaylin who inspired the nickname! She commented on the wings fic that butterfly would be the perfect nickname and I just had to use it <3

Forever tags: @sleepylunarwolf @daily-dose-of-sass @milswrites @amberlynn98 @marscardigan @illyrianbitch @lilah-asteria

#acotar #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel fanfic #acotar azriel #acotar fanfiction #acotar series #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster #azriel x y/n #azriel x oc #azriel acotar #azriel series #azriel fluff #fluff #azriel smut #smut

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mysticalserenity-tarot · 8 months ago

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🧸♡ what they like about you♡🧸 (Pick a pile)

{How to pick a pile? First, take a deep breath with your eyes closed to clear your mind. When you open your eyes, don't hesitate – pick the image that immediately grabs your attention or stirs up a memory. Remember, you can pick more than one pile if you feel called to. If none of the images stand out for you, it means there's no message for you at this time. You can always come back to it later.}

⋆｡ﾟ ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ﾟ ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆⋆｡ﾟ ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ﾟ ☾ ﾟ ⋆｡ﾟ ☁︎｡

Pile 1, Pile 2, Pile 3 (from left to right)

Hello, and a huge thank you to everyone for your incredible support! I'm so glad that my first Pac has been so well-received.

In this collective pick a pile reading, we'll delve into what your specific person likes and appreciates about you. You can consider this the continuation of my first Pac, if you prefer. Let's see where your energy takes us.

Disclaimer: This is a collective reading I picked up on multiple energies, so please only take what resonates and leave the rest. When something resonates you usually feel a light energy and in your heart you can feel it's your message, and the pic that attracts you is a clearly sign.

⋆｡ﾟ ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ﾟ ☾ ﾟ ⋆ ﾟ ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ﾟ ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆⋆｡ﾟ ☁︎｡ ⋆

🧸PILE 1🧸

2 of Pentacles, the Hierophant, Page of Swords. (top: 4 of Pentacles)

Hi Pile 1, and welcome to your reading. Let's dive in!

This is a delightful and quircky energy. As multiple cards representing the number 2 kept coming out. Your person seems to want me to know that they love how you balance your light energy with your dark energy underlining the importance of this aspect in their mind, and they feel a connection because they share similar traits - from you previous reading, I sensed this affinity. This is either my spiritually inclined collective or those who resonate with a sense of inner peace and balance. If you've chosen this pile, bravo! You've made the right choice! [ it's okay if you're new, welcome <3 ]

I sense that many of you are in your prime years, and your person appreciates your vibrant youthful energy. Regardless of your age, they believe you'll fill a void and complete them, like a "missing puzzle piece", as I just heard. Many of you have a deep love for reading and acquiring knowledge, which may or may not be associated with formal education. I sense that you might prefer solitude, perhaps engrossed in your favorite book, while your classmates or colleagues (if in a work setting) are gathered discussing different things. Therefore, your person finds captivating the way you immerse yourself in your activities amidst the 'chaos' surrounding you. Some even observe and admire you from afar, potentially without your awareness. Your person finds you inspiring and loves how you handle problems with patience and diplomacy, without letting anger and stress take over. They also appreciate your thirst for knowledge and how you're curious about diverse topics. Your person values how secure you are in yourself and how you stand by your values and beliefs.

Overall, they are drawn to your mysterious yet serene, and intellectual nature, making you almost like an enigma to them. 🧙‍♂️✨

Thank you for allowing me to read your energy, Pile 1.

Note: -If you enjoyed this and my other readings, and you'd like to support me further, you can do so on my ko-fi, I'd greatly appreciate it. It's not mandatory.

-For further guidance or a personalized reading, feel free to book a reading through my Tumblr DM or email [[email protected]]. I'm here to help you navigate life's challenges and find clarity. We can decide the price together.

🧸PILE 2🧸

The Star, 9 of Swords, the Tower. (top: Ace of Swords)

Hi Pile 2, and welcome to your reading. Let's dive in!

Ah, Pile 2, based on the energy of the cards, your person has clear ideas about what they appreciate about you.

You possess strong manifesting skills and when you are certain about what you desire, you make it happen, I'm hearing the song "I Want It, I Got It" by Ariana Grande in my mind. For you, I have two cards confirming your innate manifesting power. You may have powerful water placements or inner planetary influences in your water houses (if you're not into astrology and don't know what i'm talking about, please feel free to ask). Some strong air energy is also sensed, whether it pertains to you or your person - one of you has great communication skills even. Your person finds it remarkable that you can create positive outcomes in adverse situations, emerging even stronger after initial doubts or negative emotions. This is not only temporary but a trait your person admires in you.

The energy here feels mature, likely older regardless of your age (old souls, perhaps?), indicating that some of you actually laugh in the face of adversity due to an innate ability to rise above struggles. Your determination draws your person's admiration; they struggle while you have clear goals and pursue them despite what others may think. You may receive sudden insights or instincts, unaware of their source, which are hints from the divine. Your person loves your strong will and determination, which they lack and need. This is one of the reasons they're attracted to you. I'm also sensing some popular individuals here, possibly on social media. Your determination, strength, and success have garnered success, with many followers and admirers, including your person. However, for those not yet successful, if you stick to your path and mindset, you'll reach your goals. Best of luck, my dears! 🍀🧿

Thank you for allowing me to read your energy, Pile 2.

Note: -If you enjoyed this and my other readings, and you'd like to support me further, you can do so on my ko-fi, I'd greatly appreciate it. It's not mandatory.

🧸PILE 3🧸

Queen of Wands, The Sun, the Lovers. (top: Knight of Cups)

Hi Pile 3, and welcome to your reading. Let's dive in!

Wow, your cards are amazing, Pile 3! This person is head over heels in love with you, and the question is, what do they like about you? As I look at the cards as a whole, I'm feeling an intense passion surrounding you. They're burning with desire for you - sparks or flames, especially the color red may be significant (and for some a sign that is your pile!. Some of you may have worked or are working on your Root Chakra, which fuels this intense passion. I'm not supposed to do a spicy reading here but I'm feeling really hot lol. It's important to not a strong presence of two Major Arcana cards in a positive and powerful sequence, underlining this passionate hidden desire. Your person admires your overall positivity and passion for life, or specific interests. You may be a hopeless romantic, and they find this endearing. They perceive you as a powerful and passionate leader who remains unfazed by gossip about them and actually enjoys the attention.

It's intriguing that the Knight of Cups appeared on top of the deck in my previous pick up pile and has come up again here. You and your person may both be dreamy and romantic souls. In summary, your person appreciates your positivity, harmony, and artistic nature. You might be a creative individual, perhaps making unique art or being an enthusiast of it. They are fascinated by you and have vivid fantasies, like going to an art museum together.

I'm seeing blue stars on a blue neon ceiling in a potential art museum setting, which could be significant for some of you - and also the color blue. Now, very specific, maybe someone here has created a drawing or work with stars or blue stars on a blue background and shared it with their person and they're reminding me of it, or you or them work in a planetary museum? Take it how it resonates. Anyway, how cute! 💙

Thank you for allowing me to read your energy, Pile 3.

Note: -If you enjoyed this and my other readings, and you'd like to support me further, you can do so on my ko-fi, I'd greatly appreciate it. It's not mandatory.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

ANY LIKE/REBLOG/COMMENT IS APPRECIATED, ALSO IF YOU LET ME KNOW IF IT RESONATED.

PLEASE DO NOT REPOST MY WORK.

ALWAYS THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR EACH ONE OF YOU'S SUPPORT, I'M GRATEFUL 🤗��

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Please note that I used AI language bot to help improve grammar and spelling in my readings, as English is not my first language. However, the interpretations and insights provided in my readings are all my work, based on my intuition and the cards' symbolism.

Disclaimer: Tarot readings are for entertainment purposes only and are not meant to predict or dictate your future. The cards provide insights and guidance, but the ultimate power of choice lies with you.

#pick a card #pick a pile #tarot community #tarot blr #tarot blog #pick an image #tarot cards #collective reading #tarot readings #love tarot reading #love reading #spirituality #tarot deck #the light's seer tarot #mysticalserenity-tarot #love reader #intuition #intuitive readings

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whitedarkmoonflower · 2 months ago

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I won’t lose you!

Pairing: Sihtric x reader (female)

Authors note: was it inspired by some of the latest creations of @leftoverp1zza? For sure! Darling you are feeding my little inner angst gremlin so well. It's incredible!

Warnings: some mild SMUT, description of blood and violence, afterbattle setting, some angst

Word Count: 1,5 K (Yey, I managed to write a short one)

Summary: based on the promt "Even at my worst?". The battle is over and Sihtric can't find reader.

Raindrops, like rare salty tears, rolled down Sihtric’s face, mingling with sweat, blood, and dirt, leaving pale trails in their wake, like tiny rivers carving paths on his skin. His joints felt heavy, as if filled with lead, and every muscle ached with even the slightest movement. Yet he raised his head to the sky, now weeping alongside him, hoping the rain would wash away not only the blood and grime but the sudden dread creeping beneath his skin.

Thunder boomed above, and the scattered raindrops turned into a torrential downpour, as though the sky had flung open its gates in a desperate bid to cleanse the earth of this stain of shame that this battlefield had become.

Death. It clung to the air—its scent, its presence palpable in every sense. He could smell it, feel it in his fingertips, taste it on his tongue, hear it in the silence between each heartbeat, and see it spread across the horizon like a plague. There was no escape from it. He was no stranger to battlefields, but this was not a battlefield anymore—it was the aftermath of a massacre. It was the evidence of men’s recklessness, a testament to the violence and rage that seemed to be the only true values left in this cursed world. And he was a part of it.

He had felt Death’s cold, bony fingers grasp his own as his strength ebbed away, blood splattered across his vision, his feet slipping in the muck—mud, blood, and filth mixed beneath him.

Sihtric closed his eyes and listened. He could hear his heart racing in the cage of his ribs, feel his breath scraping through his dry throat, filling his aching lungs. The blood pounded in his ears, rushing through his veins.

Alive. He was still alive. The realisation struck Sihtric like a searing blade against his skin. Only now did he notice his fingers still clenched around the shaft of his axe, blood dripping from his hand, mingling with the rain. He had survived even if it seemed that a part of him had died today and will remain buried in this battlefield forever.

His eyes wandered around as if searching for something or rather somebody.

You had been there, just within arms reach, as the shield wall broke and your eyes had found his – a short fragile moment of unspoken promise of peace amidst the eternity of chaos and pain.

You were his peace and his undoing, all at once. And he wouldn’t have it any other way. The unending storm of life in your gaze was one of the rare things that tethered him to this world with that invisible thread of silent acceptance. Acceptance of who he was, down to the darkest corners of his mind, to the parts of his soul even he himself struggled to claim as his own.

It seemed like ages ago, like in another lifetime, like a memory wrapped in smoke from the dying embers. That night by the fire, your lips had crashed against his with the greedy, raw and uncontained anger that replaces the battle rage, filling the void left by the screams and death. He knew it too well. That same anger ran through his veins – unquenchable, unrelenting.

His hands had found you instinctively, gripping, clawing, tearing at fabric, ravenously dipping into your bare skin as though you might slip through his fingers like sand, lost to the tide. His need as wild as the battlefield behind you, the need to feel you, to ground himself in something real, something beyond destruction and chaos, beyond ruin and loss.

You sank down onto his cock, and the world fell away as he watched you through heavy-lidded eyes, his lips parted, breath ragged as you took him in, inch by aching inch. A groan rumbled in his throat, deep and guttural, something between a wild beast’s snarl and a man reaching for salvation just beyond his grasp.

Your hands braced against his chest, fingers digging into the firm planes of muscle, as if anchoring yourself into him, as if he were something solid, something unbreakable, something capable of stopping you from falling apart. But he wasn’t. Not here. Not like this.

Anger and tension bled from his tired body, leaving him bare and raw, giddy and drunk from you, from your touch, unraveling him like nothing ever before as he sought the warmth of your body to save him, to make him feel something. Something that wasn’t rage or fury.

He thrust up into you, his arms around you, pulling you flush against him, skin to skin, breath to breath, your heart hammering against his. A collision of fury and desperation, heat and want.

There were no words between you, only the rhythm of your bodies moving against each other, wildly, frantically, his grip on your hips tightening, his pace fierce and relentless, dragging broken gasps from your lips.

Forehead pressed to your shoulder he had groaned your name as his seed filled you, your body tightening around him as your own release clashed through you, moans filling the nightly sky.

You were his everything, the only being in this world and beyond worth worshipping after a day spent drowning in death, and yet he had never told you that, had never dared to say the words burning on his lips. Too afraid to shatter that fragile something between you, too scared to name it.

And now you were gone.

He had begged you not to come with him this time. It was not your war, not your battle.

Sihtric’s fingers let go of his weapon, one by one, as if releasing the blood soaked wood meant severing a part of himself. It fell. With a dull, lifeless thud the axe hit the ground. He didn’t care anymore. He couldn’t.

He moved through the battlefield, body after body he combed the ground, the heaviness in his limbs and joints gone. His nails broke as he clawed at armour, rolling over the dead bodies, staring at the faces ruined by death. Searching. Praying. Dreading.

And then he saw you. A body, a still, lifeless body. A face so hauntingly beautiful, so pale, that even Mani - the goddess of the moon – would weep with jealousy.

You heard him, heard him shouting your name, heard his footsteps pounding against the wet, muddy earth as he ran to you. You heard his knees hitting the ground beside you.

You felt his warmth. The weight of his body as he pressed himself to you, the desperate rain of kisses landing on your cold skin. You felt his hands, shaking, cradling your face.

You tried to open your eyes, but you didn’t have the strength.

The scent of blood and sweat, the echoes of clashing steel, the shouts and screams all blurred into a distant hum and slowly faded, retreating beneath the press of Sihtric’s body against yours, beneath the gentle touch of his calloused palms, beneath the sound of his cracking voice.

The desperate pull of a shaky breath you stole between kisses made Sihtric freeze for a moment. His heart thundered, not with the remnants of battle rage, but with something deeper, something so much more terrifying. Love. And dread. The kind that threatened to break him entirely, an overwhelming dread that he might have lost you.

His forehead pressed against yours, his breath uneven: “You’re alive,” he murmured, as if saying it aloud would make it more real.

“As are you,” you whispered, though your voice sounded shaky and splintered as if each word scraped against a thousand shards of glass in your throat.

His fingers skimmed along the curve of your jaw, rough but so gentle and reverent, his thumb lingered at the corner of your lips as if memorizing the feel of them. His world had nearly ended today. Yet, here you were. In his arms. Still breathing. Still his. Had you ever really been his?

“Sihtric…”

It was a quiet, delicate whisper, but hearing his name in the soft exhale, leaving your lips, he could feel the tears pearling in the corners of his eyes.

Sihtric leaned in, the sheer need to kiss those pale lips that had whispered his name, to feel them, to burrie himself in the truth that you were alive, that you were still here could bring the world to stand still.

“Never ever do this again. Do you hear me? Never! I won’t lose you! I can’t lose you! I… I love you too much,” Sihtric’s voice faded into a hoarse whisper and you finally willed your arm to move, your fingers trembling as they brushed against his cheek.

So many battles, so many nights of raw, unfiltered passion had passed between you in silence that you had already abandoned hope of ever hearing those words.

But here they were.

"I love you too, Sihtric." You forced a weak smile, your lips trembling.

His breath hitched.

"You are my life," he whispered. "I will always love you."

"Even like this? Even at my worst?"

"Especially at your worst."

#sihtric x reader #sihtric fic #sihtric #sihtric smut #the last kingdom fic #sihtric x you #sihtric kjartansson #the last kingdom #the last kingdom x reader #the last kingdom fanfic #sihtric fanfic

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bluesunss · 16 days ago

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Beautiful flowers Choi Su-bong x F!reader

summary: A young woman, unable to find love amidst the noise, seeks out silent, gray souls. But one night, a colorful stranger disrupts her silence. She allows herself to be swept away into a multicolored and painful embrace with this stranger whose scent feels so familiar.

warnings: parental neglect, unhealthy habits, swearing, au with no games

word count: 1.2k

a/n: Enjoy!! English isn’t my first language, so please correct me if you spot any typos :)

"Go fuck yourself.”

The first message in a long sequence of insults. Again. When men realised you would not go further - it always ended up this way. An onslaught of insults, torrents of hateful messages. Each grey soul would rot dark after a while.

In the end, you blocked that parasitic number. Your days then settled back into that monotonous routine: university, studying, home, and occasionally work. Once in a while, an invitation to a bar with friends would surface, and you’d follow the group to a club. It offered a distraction for a few hours. But in the end, everything always came crashing back.

That night, you had decided to go out once more - or rather, Se-mi had more or less forced you into it. You complied. A pretty dress, styled hair, perfume, a touch of makeup.

“Men expect a lot and do little.” Your mother used to say this - constantly repeating the folly of men, the importance of self-worth, of preserving one’s purity and inner beauty. The value of peace within over the chaos of relationships. And yet, it was ironic - when she returned home from work, and you leaned over the window ledge to watch yet another car sway to a stop. A familiar screeching sound.

For a woman who never ceased preaching self-respect, she seemed content to accept being nothing more than a backseat fling - never even the passenger princess. Beneath her mask of hypocrisy, you could trace a kind of pained mischief, like a blind person attempting to read Braille. Her lost illusions gripped your heart. Poor, misguided mother. Those who love us and offer counsel often neglect themselves in our stead.

But what could you do? Your fragile heart was weak. Men never entered the apartment. It was always the car. You only heard fragments - muffled sounds, faint groans. Men were mere dark silhouettes, faceless, voiceless. Instruments of pleasure, invisible agents silently eroding your mother’s vulnerabilities - a root carried by the wind, a reed that finally snapped

This wear and tear had painted itself onto you. It had seeped into your being, and now, your eyes sought nameless faces. Men devoid of identity. Each love reduced to a dull, gray soul - a quiet absurdity. Yet, you made efforts - like your mother. Acting differently. Acting too loudly. Laughing too heartily, kissing too passionately.

Then surrendering in the backseat. But you couldn’t. With each man, you retreated. Their gray souls stained yours, a snake tightening its grip around your neck, slowly suffocating you. So you pushed them away, and the insults came raining down - tease, slut, bitch, whore. And who knows what else.

Tonight, you wore less makeup than usual. You didn’t use your mother’s perfume, which had long since aged on her dresser. Nor her lipstick. Just a little - just a touch of lightness. Not tonight. Tonight, you wanted to believe in fairy tales, to imagine that each flower’s worth could be reborn from the ashes of winter.

Se-mi was already waiting outside.

“You good?” she asked. After a pause, she noticed. "I like your makeup. It suits you.”

You smiled, and she took your arm as you walked towards the club a few streets away. The night had already fallen, and it pressed heavily on your skull.

“We’ll stop by a dry cleaner first, and then drop the suit off at my place before going to the bar, okay? You can wait outside if you want.”

She rummaged through her bag, stopping in front of the shop.

“It’s for my cousin’s wedding, kind of urgent,” she smiled apologetically.

You nodded and waited outside. You weren’t a smoker, but you had a bad habit you couldn’t let go of - scraping walls. With your nails, whenever you saw rubble or rough surfaces, you couldn’t resist running your fingers over them, peeling off pieces. The dust crumbled under your touch, lodging itself under your nails, sometimes making them bleed. You only stopped when your hands were white with chalk and clay, mixed with crimson droplets.

Back then, when you hid under the sink in that tiny cupboard, you scratched at the wall. Over time, your mother and you discovered hundreds of small holes, which she thought were caused by termites. You never corrected her.

A scent tickled your nose. Artificially sweet, fruity, pleasant, yet laced with an intoxicating, incense-like undertone. A vape. You looked around, rubbing your hands together, slightly embarrassed. Where was it coming from? Who was it? The scent was familiar. A bit like orange and blueberry - Spain, when your mother had enough money from a secret admirer, and you could still afford vacations.

“Yo, señorita,” a voice called.

Turning your head, you saw a man leaning against a wall near the entrance of the bar, a few meters away. He inhaled a thick puff of vapor, then exhaled it through his nostrils. Not the most respectable behavior, but he didn’t seem to care. He had just catcalled a woman with long brown hair, braided in places. She shot him a dark look and walked on, and he chuckled. Then he felt your eyes on him and looked at you. Taking another drag from his vape, he stepped towards you.

What you hadn’t noticed in the dim light now became clear. Purple hair, a neon top. A face painted with color, rainbow nails. Long tattoos running down his fingers, his hand, and the back of his neck. Ringed-fingers. He tucked the vape into his pocket and stood before you.

“Staring is rude, y’know.”

You stared silently at him.

“If you want an autograph, just ask.”

He was the complete opposite of the men you sought. All colorful, all loud, all cocky. The polar opposite of the silence that filled your days. Only his eyes were black. But around them, a thin blue ring traced something like a galactic orbit, with a faint redness in his irises.

He blew the smoke into your face as you leaned back against the wall, waiting for Se-mi. The scent of your childhood struck you in full force, seeping into your pores. The oxymoron of your life in a single fragrance.

“Are you the quiet type?” he tilted his head. “And do you know who I am?”

You coughed, then it was your turn to shake your head, somewhat dazed by this spectacle.

“I’m the legend Thanos for you, girl.”

He revealed his nails, flashed a smile, and made a somewhat ridiculous showcasing gesture. His rings gleamed under the dim streetlight. A smile escaped you.

“You’re cute. Not my usual type, but cute.”

He scrutinized you carefully, and you did the same. His face was gentle despite a certain hardness - an almost paradoxical contrast. His thick eyebrows gave him a severe look, even in the darkness. And he seemed incapable of standing still.

“Yo, you good? You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Say something.”

Words… always words. Did one always have to surrender to words? Nothing. Just silence. For one night, you wanted noise, you didn’t want to be yourself anymore. You were tired of this damp skin and this sweaty dress, tired of your mother’s long fingers reflected in your own, tired of sinking into darkness when the only colors you loved were those of Spain and your childhood. And this man, with the scent of Spain, lavender-tinted hair, and cupid’s-bow lips, was meant to take you away for one night.

So you suddenly wrapped your arms around his neck, making him stumble backward, and just before your lips clumsily met, you did something you had never dared before - you looked him in the eyes. Then, as the glow between you turned warmer, you closed the space between your burning breaths and melted against his mouth, tasting of acidic childhood and sweetness.

Just for one night - to forget.

Just for one night - to remember.

The houses with white shutters. Friendly neighbors. Orange trees stretching in rows. Climbing those orange trees. The juice trickling down your neck, your arm, your throat, and summer pouring into your life. The remnants of a childhood destroyed by sunburns and crumbling walls. A taste so sunlit, so sweet, so fragrant.

The man grabbed your hip roughly, pushed you against the wall, and shoved his tongue down your throat. You yanked his hair, struggling to breathe - he was sloppy and clumsy but so good - god - he was so good, and you devoured him with fervor, sweet against you, his grip tightening as he kept murmuring “fuck, that’s hot.” He talked too much. You bit his lips, let your bag fall during this embrace, and pulled him between buildings, into a dark alley.

Then everything happened fast. Carnal desire consumed you - you wanted the flesh of this forbidden orange - the hem of your dress was lifted, an unbuckling sound. It was rough, good, illicit, and wild - everything your childhood had cursed and stolen from you.

You bit into his skin, sucked at the droplets of blood that surfaced, and he took you with such fervor that the world folded into that moment, into that intoxicating brutality.

When he finished, panting, he zipped up his jeans, muttering fuck, fucking hell, yes, señorita. You lowered your dress, legs trembling, lips quivering with the desire still burning. "Who are you?" he asked, eyes bright and cheeks slightly flushed, as he ran his hand through his purple hair. "Fuck, that was intense man."

You searched for your bag, found it on the ground, and started walking out of the alley.

"Hey, don’t leave, just tell me your name!" The man was following you, still adjusting his belt and his shirt. When he finished, he tried to catch your arm but you slipped away. Walking faster, you left him standing, a blurry mess.

Dazed, he remained there, breathless, his eyes unable to leave your retreating figure. You dusted off your clothes and caught your breath only when you reached the spot where Se-mi was waiting.

She held the package and smiled at you.

“It’s all good. Let’s go."

It was too dark for her to notice your flushed cheeks, your disheveled hair, or the tremor convulsing through your body and senses.

There, in that alley, you had left the evanescence of your most beautiful flower. And now, you had the right to wither.

lmk your opinion on this!!

#choi su bong x reader #thanos x reader #thanos squid game #thanos #choi su bong #squid game 2 #squid game #player 230 x reader #player 230 #childhood #memories #nostalgic #poetic

71 notes · View notes

averageallogene · 2 years ago

Note

Resubmitting because my WiFi weirded out when I was posting.

Jean convinces Diluc to dump you for her, because you are, in her own words, 'Not noble enough'.

With nothing holding you back in Mondstadt, you return to Inazuma to take up your Clan duties.

Less than a year later, you receive Diluc and Jean's wedding invite and you attend with Ayato as your plus-one.

At the reception, Eula instantly recognizes your Clan crest on your obi belt.

Jean proceeds to mock you as she makes her rounds to greet her wedding guest and Eula defends you, stating that your Clan is the overseer of the Tri-Commission *and* the First Clan of Inazuma, out-ranked only by the Raidan Shogun and Yae Miko. And you are its Clan Head.

Diluc ♡⊹˚ Not Enough (SFW)

fem. reader (3rd person) ; angst. cw for jealousy, heartbreak. Implied Ayato x reader.

4k words.

notes. Alright I am back with a bag of piping hot telenovela drama! I had a lot of fun writing this, even if I fear my Jean and my Diluc turned out a little ooc? Oh and Ayato is a petty menace. Well, suffice to say I took some liberty with this one- I hope we can just slide past through it and I’ll get better at their portrayals eventually <3. Enjoy!✧˖°

The tranquility of Mondstadt, accompanied by the welcomed breezes it brought daily, was enough for anyone to fall in love with the country. The land of the Anemo Archon was blessed with peace, as well as a beauty to behold as its people were one of the most welcoming [F/N] had ever come across. It had been enough to compel her to stay a little longer when she’d begun traveling around Teyvat, with it bringing something more that urged her to remain there.

Diluc Ragnvindr, an otherwise very well known bachelor of Mondstadt, had certainly caught her eye. The feeling seemed to have been mutual, for [F/N]’s appearance and Inazuman style of clothing definitely stood out amongst the usual crowd. It had begun friendly enough, the winery tycoon seeking information regarding the Inazuman palette when it came to alcoholic beverages. Of course, as a businessman Diluc had plans of expanding to other nations, with or without vision hunt decrees meddling in the middle. During that time, [F/N] had remained in Mondstadt, visibly stressed with the fate of her country. Thankfully, she had a friendly shoulder to rely on on the same wealthy bachelor. It turned out Diluc wasn’t all appearances, his very being burning with a gentleness that was enough to swoon the young woman off her feet.

[F/N] was far from her family during said time, and exchanging letters was difficult. She’d never been exactly too open when it came to them, yet no one wished to pry. With the borders closed, she had next to no possibility of returning without possibly being detained, regardless of status. War reeked with personal vendettas after all, and to someone of high status as herself, many would indeed covet to take what was hers amidst the chaos. Unbeknownst to her, it had been these early signs of trouble that had helped her in convincing her father of letting her seek out the world whilst she could, sending his only daughter off to the land of the free before she too were to be caged down by duties and unfortunate circumstances.

Homesickness was terrible, but thankfully she had Diluc to aid her. Together they’d spend time together, whether that was in Angel’s Share as the bustling tavern closed its doors for the night, or whenever he offered her to have a tranquil walk through the Dawn Winery. His estate had quickly become one of her favorites, the scenery and the sound of the rustling leaves bringing an inner peace strong enough to temporarily wash away her worries. With the more time they spent together, they found more in common that they had, including dreams, plans for the future, even hobbies. It wouldn’t be difficult to find the pair reading by the fireplace, or even discussing various topics while enjoying a game of chess, hence many murmurs of Diluc’s sweetheart beginning to circle throughout Mondstadt.

Still, he was a traditional man when it came to such affairs. Diluc was one to take things slowly, yet it was more than noticeable the way he held her hand gently, the way he’d open doors whenever they arrived somewhere, the way his hand would linger on her lower back as they walked through the streets. It wasn’t as though they were official yet, but to [F/N], it was more than apparent she was being courted. And truth be told, her heart couldn’t leap any higher. Sadly, her expectations would come crashing to the ground, coincidentally just as the climax of the vision hunt decree took place miles away in Inazuma.

Diluc had grown hesitant, a little distant even. He was a man to remain firm in his beliefs, yet with the right approach and from the right people, even the most determined man could falter. He’d told [F/N] of stories of his childhood, of happier times when his father was around, of times he and Kaeya got along well. Of times he had friends over at the winery, when his mind would only be preoccupied with fantasies he’d construct with his friends at the height of their innocence. [F/N] had listened to him happily, content with the idea of him having a good childhood, of having good friends. Good friends such as Jean Gunnhildr. [F/N] had noticed the way her glance would sparkle at him, yet they were only friends he’d reassured her, and it would’ve definitely seemed as such before it no longer did. The young lady wasn’t ignorant; the way Jean eyed Diluc paralleled the way she did as well, yet she had confidence in the chance she had with him until he’d taken the first step backwards.

He’d been calm, gentle with her upon shooting her down. His heart was murky, he had too many responsibilities. He had a lot to take care of between his tavern and his winery, as well as other responsibilities she wasn’t aware of. He wasn’t sure if he was ready to commit, and he was most sorry for leading her on. [F/N]’s heart broke with the way she was shot down, yet she gracefully smiled still, thanking him for his honesty. Even though she was the one being rejected, the woman placed a friendly hand on his arm, ensuring there were no harsh feelings, as well as wishing him the very best. Wishing that he soon find himself, reassuring that she would always support him. The urge to cry was strong, more so with the way his often gentle gaze shifted away from her. Yet, [F/N] persevered, pushing back any theories her mind crafted as the man she’d grown to love was swept away from her fingers.

A gut feeling whispered to her that Jean had been the instigator, yet with no concrete proof, [F/N] was left out in the rain as Mondstadt grew less and less picturesque. The winery didn’t feel welcoming anymore, the once bustling streets of the main city were now noisy instead of charming. The mere sight of the crest of the knights of Favonius irked her, for it reminded her of the woman she knew was the reason Diluc had grown distant. In all her years of education back in Inazuma, [F/N] had grown to know when a rival struck through the shadows. She’d grown to realize the subtle signs, yet she’d held on faith for her beloved’s friend. It had proved futile, and now, bitterness replaced the fondness she’d held for the city of freedom.

[F/N] held a letter that had finally reached her from her home country, bags being packed by the few escorts that had arrived to retrieve her. She’d arranged for them to only move at night, lest she wished to have unwanted attention on her as well as the Inazuman samurai her bedridden father had sent for her. Her duties ripped her out of her wishes to remain in Mondstadt, reality beckoning her back as her dreams were left behind with a broken heart, swept by the breeze.

Ironically enough, Kaeya, of all people, had been the only one to notice her that night. There was the faint scent of wine on him, yet he was still sober enough to have a coherent speech. He’d waited for her by the city walls, a small expression of regret as he inquired if she really had to go. The relationship between the brothers was brittle to say the least, yet Kaeya would’ve been a fool to deny how Diluc seemed happy with her. How he liked seeing his brother happy. The Cavalry Captain voiced his wish for her to stay, explaining how he enjoyed her company, how Mondstadt did. It stung [F/N], yet with a sad smile, she told him she couldn’t stay even if she wished to. And without explaining further as to why she had to leave, Kaeya suddenly let out with a bitter chuckle.

“Is it because Jean sees you as not noble enough? I can assure you [F/N], no one here really cares for such superficial reasoning.”

It had struck a chord in her, for her suspicions were confirmed. All of this heartbreak had stemmed because [F/N], no matter how hard she tried, would never be one of them, the children of the wind. She was from the land of lightning, and apparently to some, appreciating and learning of their history wasn’t as good enough as being directly related to it. Her hands grasped her coat tightly, and with a curt response of how it was due to other things, she’d thanked Kaeya for everything before leaving the city in the middle of the darkness.

The voyage back to Inazuma had been long, but even more so bittersweet. She’d just arrived in time to say a final goodbye to her father, too sick to even get up from his bed as he held her hand one last time. He could see the heartbreak in her eyes, yet he was too weak to inquire on who was the monster to hurt his beloved daughter. All he could say was that the future of their clan lay now on her hands, the pressure nearly suffocating her. Amidst the conflict with the vision hunt decree, her eldest brother, who’d sided with the rebellion in secret, had been murdered, his drink poisoned. And even as justice had been served, life needed to move on, leaving the seat of Clan Head now to her.

Days in Inazuma were vinegary. Her homecoming had been filled with heartache, having lost her brother, and soon after her father as well. Days, weeks, months, they all passed in a blur, [F/N] focusing on the heavy task of overseeing the tri-commissions as she donned her clan’s crest with pride.

Not noble enough, it kept repeating inside her head every day, every time she put her obi on. The young woman hated to admit it, but the pettiness of it all had become her drive, fueling her as she surpassed her father in more aspects than one. In a short amount of time, she’d proved herself as a worthy ruler of her clan, an iron fist masked with elegance and grace as her name grew more and more respected by all the other clans.

Despite her secluded life filled with responsibility, as well as her still distrusting heart, [F/N] allowed very few people in. She could count her friendly acquaintances with solely one hand, but amongst them were the Kamisato siblings. Businesses aside, they were able to lay down their crests for an afternoon every once in a while, enjoying each other’s company over finely brewed tea as they watched the sunset together, recounting stories to one another as time flew by during such leisure moments.

It had been during one such rare occasion, that [F/N] found herself enjoying tea with Kamisato Ayato, his sister busy with her own set of duties whilst the Commissioner took a much needed break. His trained eye could see how she was tense, eyes lowered as they remained narrowed with a bitterness he’d known all too well. Gently, he’d inquired if all was well, and with a quick glance, [F/N] debated if she should burden the already busy head of the Yashiro Commission with her petty bickering.

“You should know by now that I’m not one to ask things out of courtesy, [F/N].” Ayato had calmly stated, an enigmatic smile dancing on his lips as she took a sip of her tea. “I’m genuinely inquiring about your well-being, for I do in fact care. So please, if something is troubling you, do not hesitate to say.”

And with a heavy sigh, the woman placed her cup down, before finally coming clean. From her large sleeve she revealed to him a sealed letter, one with a wax stamp of nothing more than the Ragnvindr clan displayed on it.

“It seems one of my acquaintances back in Mondstadt is about to get married, and has decided to invite me to his wedding.” Ayato hid his grin of amusement with the way she spat the word acquaintance with such distaste. It was enough for him to have an inkling of what could’ve transpired during her stay in the land of the Anemo Archon. “I suppose it’s his way of voicing his wish of letting bygones be bygones, but I cannot help but taste the sweet irony of it all.”

“Oh? Has he, perchance, hurt you deeply?” He’d inquired, watching as she lowly nodded her head.

“I was under the assumption he’d been courting me,” [F/N] revealed to her friend, remembering the way her heart clenched upon first reading its contents. The fact he was marrying after such little time apart, and to Jean no less, still filled her broken heart with such indescribable bitterness. “But then… Nevermind. I was needed to return, regardless. One way or another, it would’ve ended in tragedy.”

“My deepest condolences.” Ayato spoke softly, his hand gently resting atop hers before holding it cordially. “Do you intend on skipping the wedding? Just know there is no shame in doing what’s best for you.”

“I’ve thought about it.” She sighed, holding his hand back with a thankful squeeze. “Yet, I can’t bring myself to shut him off entirely either. He was, after all, someone who had helped me a lot during my stay in Mondstadt.”

“Ah yes, the heart is a most complex little thing…” Ayato breathed out, a faint smile on his face as he offered her an understanding glance. “When is it taking place?”

“In about three months.” [F/N] had nearly sulked, still glaring at the letter as if her sheer glance could burn the whole thing. Ayato had simply nodded, before insisting she take a little longer to reflect on what would be best for her.

In truth, Ayato decided to free up his schedule for three months into the future. Not only could he be a little petty when it came to his own allies, he truly did care for the well-being of his friend. In all honesty, perhaps it was best he didn’t know the full details of how she’d been shot down, lest he make an even bigger, yet still elegant, ruckus. In the end, he’d offered his company were she to decide on going to the celebration, and against all odds, [F/N] had accepted. With Ayato by her side, the young woman felt a sudden surge of confidence. Perhaps it was the idea of her being accompanied by a kind, and well accomplished man, that had her feeling that way.

And with her confirmation letter being sent with the intent on bringing a plus one, time was the only thing between [F/N] and her return to Mondstadt. Diluc was surprised she’d accepted, but he couldn’t deny he was happy. In all honesty, he truly wished for them to start over, for her friendship was deeply valued to the man. Jean on the other hand, was a little flabbergasted she’d accepted. To her, it had solely been a courtesy to send an invite, yet she’d be lying if she hadn’t predicted her decline of attending their wedding. Despite the slight disappointment, the Lionfang Knight was already stressed as it was; perhaps it would be best to just ignore it, and prepare for their big day as best as she could.

The day for their voyage had arrived, and true to his word, Ayato accompanied her on their ship. Everything had been prepared, their duties being fulfilled by others for the duration of their trip. It was a much needed breath of fresh air, a small vacation he’d joked, smiling with eloquence even when he wasn’t one to enjoy large group gatherings. He’d insisted that he and [F/N] both dress in their finest clothing, for they were representing their Clans on foreign lands, and by extension, representing Her Excellency as well. Their crests displayed proudly on their clothing, made of the finest silks and brightest tones, arms linking together as [F/N] held her fan to her lips as they finally disembarked at the docks.

Ayato had surely made a statement with the entire entourage he’d organized for the two of them, it almost seemed as though he indeed knew of what had been the reason given for their breakup. Then again, [F/N] thought, perhaps he did know. Ayato was a man of many means after all, who was to say he hadn’t read her bitterness like an open book? The way [F/N] looked at him smiling in that knowing way of his didn’t help her case, either… Well, it was too late to go back, anyway.

The way they’d arrived on Mondstadt had certainly caused an uproar, citizens watching in curiosity as the samurai escorted them to the hotel where they would stay until the day of the festivities. Most of the Knights of Favonius were busy as per usual, away from their arrival save for the guards stationed at the city gates who had warmly welcomed them upon confirming their identities and the purpose of their visit. Gossip was quick to follow, yet Ayato paid no mind, calmly chatting away with [F/N] as they were led to their rooms.

News of wealthy guests from the east reached the couple’s ears, yet neither Diluc nor Jean paid much mind. After all, Diluc had many wealthy acquaintances, most of them stemming from his businesses within the wine industry. All he cared for was to ensure all their confirmed guests had indeed arrived, including [F/N]. And upon being told she had in fact, he only nodded his head, not inquiring any further. Him and his bride were much too busy making the final preparations after all, and unbeknownst to him, Kaeya only watched in the background, an amused grin on his face as he patiently waited for the big show.

The bells rang with vigor on the big day, [F/N] jolting inside her room as she wasn’t exactly used to the way their Church would announce anything so loudly. Ayato had already finished preparing, smiling her way before offering his help in adjusting her obi.

“You look positively beautiful.” He’d stated in a matter-of-fact tone, watching as she smiled at him with an honest, thankful gleam. “Ready?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” She had sighed, nodding her head as she inwardly psyched herself up to go forth with the day. And without much issue, the pair left their hotel and made haste for the sight of the ceremony.

Amidst the sea of guests, their presence had gone mostly unnoticed. It was best as such, [F/N] gazing ahead as she watched the man who she’d once thought would be the one marry another woman. Her heart still clenched slightly at the reality, yet Ayato’s presence helped her in grounding herself as she took a deeper breath. Her arm remained around his, admiring how beautiful they looked, how happy they gazed at one another. Even if Jean forever held a deep stain in her eyes, she couldn’t deny how radiant and gorgeous she looked in her wedding gown. The warm glow of the church veiled around them in a romantic manner, the union finally being tied as the main ceremony came to a close. For the first time in a while, [F/N] found herself smiling at the sight of Diluc with another. Perhaps, she thought, she would eventually get through this. Even if it still hurt, even if she still thought back on how she hadn’t been enough.

Customs between Mondstadt’s weddings and Inazuma’s weddings differed, yet she and Ayato found themselves easily following along as everyone moved on to the reception. It was during this time that the guests began conversing more freely with one another, finally having a look around as they noted who had come to support the happy couple, who had come with whom. It was during this time that [F/N] could feel eyes on her, glances of surprise to herself and her partner being shared as she commented on how the food was delightful with Ayato.

“Is that… [F/N]?” Eula had commented with Kaeya, who had nodded his head with an amused grin on his face. Despite the elaborate way she dressed when in comparison with the way she did when she had stayed in Mondstadt, nothing could escape her eye as a noble herself. “She looks radiant. And the man beside her…”

[F/N]’s voice could be heard not far, Ayato relishing in the way his comment had brought a laugh out of her. He patted himself on his back for having gotten the willpower to deal with such a packed event, for the way his friend seemed more relaxed had been more than worth it in his eyes. They kept on chatting together, a select few female acquaintances of [F/N]’s joining them as they soon found more company to converse with.

“[F/N]! It’s been so long… How have you been?”

“You look amazing, [F/N]! I heard you’ve returned to Inazuma suddenly, is everything alright?”

“Who’s your friend there, [F/N]?” Followed with a knowing wink, causing the woman to blush before denying their accusations any further.

Despite everything, the attention directed to a corner of their reception definitely wasn’t unnoticed by the happy couple, more so by the bride as her violet eyes gazed around. Jean found herself surprised upon landing her eyes on [F/N]’s face, recognizing her rather quickly despite the intricate ornaments she wore on her hair and the delicate makeup. She looked stunning, she thought, before stopping herself and clearing her throat.

Her wandering gaze hadn’t gone unnoticed by Diluc, whose eyes followed before landing on [F/N] as well. It took him a moment to register who it was, and when it did, his shifting expression caused a stir of emotions deep within his bride.

“[F/N]?...” He’d muttered, Jean squeezing his hand lightly to return his attention to her.

“Come Diluc, we have to thank everyone for coming.” She’d hastily led him to the table where the rest of the Knights dined, all raising glasses of champagne and wine as the couple approached them.

“Ah, Diluc, Jean! The ceremony was wonderful,” Lisa had smiled their way, a giggle following. “I nearly teared up at the vows. Goodness, weddings always make me so emotional.”

“The food is also delectable.” Kaeya grinned, his glass rising slightly above the others as he gave his brother a nod. “Congratulations to the both of you.”

“Congratulations! May your years be blessed with happiness and good fortune!” Amber smiled brightly.

“Yes, congratulations.” Eula complemented, smiling softly as Diluc held Jean close.

“Thank you everyone for coming. It is an honor to share such an important day with you all.” Diluc said with the utmost sincerity, smiling softly as Jean rested her hand on his chest.

“It’s a great pleasure.” Eula’s gaze narrowed as she could sense an unnecessary comment bubbling within Kaeya’s chest. The way he grinned spelled trouble, and just as she predicted so, the man swirled his glass of wine before he continued. “Of course, we wouldn’t miss your wedding for nothing! But perhaps it’s to those who’ve come from the furthest you should extend your greatest gratitudes.”

“Of course, we intend on thanking everyone as we go around every table.” Jean huffed with a small smile, still not following where he was headed. She rested a hand on her hip as she raised an eyebrow softly, Diluc too eyeing his brother as if expecting more.

“Oh, that’s great! I was beginning to think you were rounding around [F/N]’s table on purpose. But then again, you must still be thinking about how to properly thank her, no?”

“Kaeya!” Amber sighed, shaking her head as the mood slightly shifted around the table. The man simply shrugged, sipping on his wine before sighing with content over the wonderful undertones, as he explained.

“Ah, Diluc! Congratulations, you lucky bastard!” Varka’s voice roared across the reception hall, hands plopping down on his shoulders as he laughed loudly. Diluc could only remain awkward as he quietly thanked him, the Grand Master practically whisking him away as he further congratulated him and gave him lessons on how to ensure his wife’s happiness.

“Honestly, I was surprised to know she’d be coming.” Jean watched her husband not stray too far, finally letting out a small sigh and folding her arms across her chest. “I’m still not quite sure how we’re going to address this, as her presence seems… Rather ill-intended.”

“Oh?” Kaeya’s gaze turned to her from the corner of his eyes, finding her choice of words amusing as he let her ramble on.

“Diluc had voiced his wish of inviting her, and thinking it was just a formality I decided to agree with it. But for her to actually accept and show up seems bitter.” It was clear the stress was racing to her head, the table listening awkwardly as she rambled on. “While I understand it still must hurt given the circumstances, we would’ve hoped she would’ve let bygones be bygones. I simply find her actions to lack in-”

“Nobility?” Eula scoffed quietly, eyebrow raising quietly before watching Jean hesitate if she agreed with her or not. It was her turn to cross her arms, speaking directly to her. “I find it quite the opposite. I think that accepting and coming by to show her support shows just how noble she is. After all, for the head of her clan to not show up would’ve been scandalous. Do you know what kind of rumors that would start up, Jean?”

“Wait- Did you just say head of her clan?” Amber repeated, her eyes widening as Eula nodded her head.

“Yes. Haven’t you all realized? Look, notice [F/N]’s obi.” The group found themselves rather indiscreetly gazing towards [F/N]’s table, the crest displayed with pride as she enjoyed Ayato’s company. “It’s the crest of the first clan of Inazuma, otherwise known as the overseer of the Tri-Commissions of the nation. Basically, it’s the oldest still standing clan of the nation, only surpassed by the Archon herself and their Guji.”

The table slowly digested the information, Eula proving yet again just how well educated she was not only to what concerned Mondstadt, but aristocracy of other nations as well. Her legs remained crossed as she finished explaining herself, leg bouncing lightly as she battled with herself to remain cordial despite not having quite liked her friend’s statement. Even if Jean was overly stressed, or their situation with [F/N] hadn’t been ideal, it had most definitely been an unnecessary comment.

“Besides, the man next to her is none other than the head of the Yashiro Commission. Their Commission has many duties, including overseeing ceremonies and rituals that do include weddings. So, her choice of companion can most definitely be seen as yet another layer to her virtuous acceptance of your invitation.”

Kaeya found himself grinning unabashedly at the way Jean glanced away, clearly embarrassed with the outcome of the situation. She still held her arms crossed around her chest in a defensive manner, the Cavalry Captain thinking it would just be best if she left to avoid any further hits to her pride. For the first time in a while, he found himself agreeing fully with Eula, letting her take the reins of the situation as Jean’s ego was put in place. Sure, Kaeya liked Jean. Yet still, he couldn’t deny he thought [F/N] would’ve been a better match for Diluc. Call him petty, but he was enjoying the situation.

“Sorry about that,” Diluc sighed as he returned to their side, his hand resting on Jean’s waist as he gazed around the table. “Erhm, everything alright? You all look, how should I put it…”

“Nothing to worry about.” His brother grinned, waving his hand dismissively as everyone began eating their food. “You go and thank everyone for coming by, yeah? Enjoy yourselves, after all it’s your wedding day!”

Despite the confusion with his sudden upbeat tone, Diluc simply nodded, leading his bride to continue on going through table to table. Needless to say, now that it was he who took the lead, they soon found themselves at [F/N]’s table, the man surprised to see her so intricately dressed and in the presence of someone of such stature.

Nonetheless, and despite the sudden lump of awkwardness that lodged itself in his throat, Diluc took his time to properly thank them for coming, [F/N] simply gazing at them and replying it was their pleasure. Ayato was the one to take charge in their response, smiling cordially as he basked in the way his bride seemed to avert her gaze from them. If looks could diminish someone’s presence, Jean would’ve been long gone, reduced to atoms. And Ayato would’ve been lying if he said he wasn’t enjoying it, holding [F/N]’s hand with such delicacy as if they were more than friends.

And as they left, he carefully leaned over her ear, watching as she met him halfway to hear what he had to say.

“Well, that was amusing. Perhaps next year we should invite them to our wedding. A fun retaliation, no?”

“W-What?”

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin diluc x reader #genshin impact diluc x reader #genshin impact x reader #diluc ragnivindr x reader #genshin angst #genshin impact angst #yoko drabbles

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mbruben-stein · 11 months ago

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Hello! I hope you're doing good..

Could you do hcs "dating bruce banner include" 🥺

Dating Bruce banner would include.

Dating Bruce Banner would include a rollercoaster of emotions and experiences. At times, he may be withdrawn and quiet, lost in his thoughts as he struggles with the weight of his past and the constant battle with his alter ego, the Hulk. But there would also be moments of brilliance and passion, where his intelligence and determination shine through.

You would have to be understanding and patient, knowing that Bruce carries a heavy burden and may need space to cope with his inner demons. But in return, you would receive unwavering loyalty and devotion from a man who has a heart of gold despite his struggles.

Dates with Bruce would involve deep conversations about science, philosophy, and the complexities of the human mind. You would be challenged intellectually and emotionally, as he pushes you to think outside the box and see the world from a different perspective.

But amidst the chaos and turmoil, there would be moments of peace and joy, where you see the gentle and caring side of Bruce that he keeps hidden from the world. He may surprise you with acts of kindness and thoughtfulness, showing you that despite his struggles, he is capable of love and compassion.

Overall, dating Bruce Banner would be a journey filled with ups and downs, but it would also be a unique and rewarding experience. You would stand by his side through thick and thin, supporting him as he navigates the complexities of his life and finds solace in your love and understanding.

#Marvel Avengers #Avengers #avengers headcanons #avengers x reader #bruce banner x reader #Bruce Banner Imagine #Dating would include #Bruce X Reader #Bruce Banner headcanons #Bruce headcanons #Marvel Bruce Banner #Avengers Bruce Banner #marvel

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bondedbythoughts · 2 months ago

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Allow your soul dominance because it doesn't engage in drama. Recognize that Love allows you to find inner peace amidst chaos, not letting challenges break you nor imbitter you, but instead empower you, elevating you and strengthening your connection with the Sacred.

Remember to let your intuition guide you through these challenges so that you do not compromise your truth.

Please subscribe, like, and follow us at bondedbythoughts.org

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sacredoraclez · 4 days ago

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💫ᑭIᑕK ᗩ ᑭIᒪᗴ💫 ~ᗴ᙭Tᗴᑎᗪᗴᗪ ᐯᗴᖇ.~

💫🪼!ᑭIᒪᗴ Oᑎᗴ~ ᔕᗩᑎᗪ ᗪOᒪᒪᗩᖇ!🪼💫

what im pick up first is finding balance amidst chaos. sometimes, this can lead lead us to something valuable.

perhaps you find yourself at the moment surrounded by something causing you stress. this could be people, a situation, anything in your case. a feeling of being constrained, in a box, or something pushed to the surface that needs to be handled urgently. a time of purge, eclipse season energy.

it’s time to take a step back from whatever this is to reassess and find balance. take a step back for yourself and give yourself patience. find your balance and inner strength.

perhaps doing this will bring about a better outcome for whatever this may be.

trust that universe will bring you to new beginnings or rebirth from whatever this is for you

3,6,9 synchronicity. from anxiety, to balance, to rebirth/new beginnings.

find your peace and strength, find balance and focus on the self first

have hope that after this rough time it will lead you to focus on your souls mission and lead to a rebirth, a new beginning or fresh start.

this situation is starting to change for you, find balance and prepare for this new beginning/rebirth.

perhaps someone is revealing themselves for who they are. the right call is to find balance and walk away from this. the number 9, a number of finality. perhaps it’s time allow this to officially close.

it is time to walk away from false hopes and promises of whatever this situation is for you. time to focus on yourself. summon your strength to find this balance, and allow yourself to walk away. 1222.

listen to your inner voice, find your strength, and believe in yourself.

focus on a manifestation you’ve been wanting, perhaps for while now. have you put off something? a dream perhaps? focus on it again, or that find dream for yourself. by focusing on this, with patience and persistence, you will find yourself with greater opportunities. do not let this situation stop you any longer, go forward with your initiative and stick to it! fearlessly grow! start doing this for yourself, you’ll open doors to new possibilities and growth if you believe and focus on yourself! spirit is telling you that you’re worthy of this! let go of what’s holding you back! find your personal power to gain new opportunities for yourself! allow what needs to be purged, to be purged! allow yourself to change, to find balance, and find strength to overcome this so you may focus on your path and what awaits for you on this journey.! 🪼🫶

💫¡ᑭIᒪᗴ 1 ᔕᑭᖇᗴᗩᗪᔕ!💫

💫🪼¡ᑭIᒪᗴ TᗯO~TIᘜᗴᖇᔕ ᗴYᗴ!🪼💫

have you started a new role? a project? a role of leadership or something new and exciting?! testing new waters, perhaps something that requires a load of patience! learning about yourself through this new role of leading others? random, but therapist maybe?

are you doubting yourself? second thoughts? invasive overthinking about if you’ve made the right decision?

have patience, pile 2! spirit is saying this your chance to ignite your spark, this is new and positive! the time for this path is now! stick to your path, do not fret just yet. step into this new role of helping others! no need to second guess or overanalyze going back to what once was. keep this dream! whatever this is, it’s good for you and you should stay dedicated to this dream and your desired outcome for it! let your goals unfold as they should, listen to your intuition about this. let your inner voice guide, not the negative thoughts! it seems you have a deep connection with spirit, listen to your guides and to your inner voice about what is truly aligned for you, not the negativity. this is a time to allow your desired outcome for this to come into fruition. it’s time to embrace this new path and allow the opportunities from it to come through. trust your instincts, especially if you feel called to lead others! don’t sit and overthink on the past, it’s time to follow your dreams! have faith in this path, your guides are here for you! allow them to guide you from whatever challenges you may face/negative thinking. whatever your worrying about, spirit is saying not to fret one bit! move forward on your path! sometimes, when we get into something new we can feel uncomfortable at first. “is this really right for me? did i make the right choice?” spirit is saying not to worry, when we go through transformation there are things we must do, that can feel outside our comfort zone at first! as we grow used to what seems new and unfamiliar at first, we realize it was actually something beneficial for us! 1818, you are meant for success! what may feel disruptive at the moment will soon guide you to success! the reason for this shall be clear and full of success!

111, 222 while picking up on your energy! very clear message for you! very amazing energy as well, whatever you’re jumping into seems a world full of wonder! though it’s tough to get through negative thoughts and adjusting to what’s uncomfortable, it doesn’t mean to regress back into our comfort zones.! we must stick to it and see our dreams through to the end! whatever this is for you, go through with it! beautiful message!🫶🪼

💫¡ᑭIᒪᗴ 2 ᔕᑭᖇᗴᗩᗪᔕ!💫

💫🪼¡ᑭIᒪᗴ 3~ᑭIᑎᗴᑕOᑎᗴ!🪼💫

the past matters no longer. anything you’ve been taught/conditioned to think: in childhood, adolescence, or adulthood, you don’t need to follow it any longer. 222. figure out who you are in the present, don’t focus on what the past can ‘give’ to you any longer. you don’t need to go back to anything. no need to seek comfort in the past. stay committed to the present version of yourself.! no need to answer questions of who you were and what you did, time to ask these questions now! who are you? what do you want to do now? have the commitment to stay focused on who you are now, in the present. not any past version of yourself, or perhaps past situations. now is the time to focus on newer growth. only take your lessons and move forward with growth. take initiative towards caring for the new you.! focus on the new desires you have, ignite who you are now and take initiative towards yourself and your dreams, not of what is old! keep going towards this new version of yourself! don’t sit uncomfortably in the past when you can embrace the present, embrace your present self! seek wonder in your new self, fore it is time! only reflect on your lessons of the past and how you’ve grown, never dwell! go forward as the new you! remain present.!

choose to create a life that is aligned with you! follow the white rabbit into yourself and see where it takes you.!

take the time in the present to truly get to know yourself and your dreams! use your personal power to learn more about yourself, and you’ll find yourself anew! reborn! do not worry any longer of the past! have confidence, and believe in yourself! do this and find positivity in this journey of discovery! reflect on this new self and learn who you are! learn yourself and what your dreams are, explore this curiosity! truly embrace the present and let go of the past~~!

💫¡ᑭIᒪᗴ 3 ᔕᑭᖇᗴᗩᗪᔕ!💫

💫🪼!ᑭIᒪᗴ 4~ᑕᒪᗴᗩᖇ ᑫᑌᗩᖇTᘔ!🪼💫

when we are detoxing, it is not as simple or easy as some make it. the process toward fresh start may not be the simplest, but it’s always worth it to be free of toxins. whether people, situations, places, whatever it may be, we always feel better when these toxic things are out of our lives. maybe you find yourself in a situation where a clean slate needs to happen. a detox of what is toxic in your life, or what’s inside yourself. it may not seem easy, maybe it seems impossible. it’s something that seems big; if we have accumulated toxins it may be to intimidating to confront, then we know it’s time to start getting rid of it. spirit says, taking one step at a time, day by day, doing something good for yourself is the way! doing something to introduce a fresh start little by little is how you can rid yourself of these toxins. if it’s a food or poor diet, slowly introduce some thing healthy in your diet. perhaps juicing or trying teas to slowly flush your body. if you wish to release a toxic person without drama, slowly distance yourself from them. if it’s a drug, take that step to rehab. take it day by day, it’ll lead you to a new clean slate. 333. it’s time to make the choice to go ahead and start making these small but big steps towards this. the path seems daunting, but you know it’ll lead you to something better for yourself. start with your mind. put some mental effort towards this choice and bring it down to the physical. create a safe space for yourself to do this- make it important for yourself and comforting in any way you can. your guides wan you to know that if it seems hard, they have your back through it all. they are your comfort. deciding to take these steps will lead you to alignment and fulfillment.

it’s time you grow out of what this toxin may be for you. it’s time for this cycle to end pile 3. its time to balance the scales- stand up to this toxin and make the choice to start detoxing this for good. we don’t have to allow certain people, foods, or drugs to continue to bring imbalance in our life. 555. make the choice to free yourself from this toxin. no need to bring judgement onto yourself any longer. this will open you up to new joys and positivity.! try with a positive approach too! know that doing this will bring about a ripple effect in your life! trust the path ahead, for it will bring you energetic balance. shift your perspective toward a positive one and make this choice to release these toxins. have the strength to preserve on this path, and this can lead to emotional well being and abundance(whatever abundance is for you!) whatever you feel may be hard in the moment, know it is only temporary! know that after the hardship you will feel better on all levels! approach to with love and positivity! final message is don’t worry ~! start to pursue this with optimism! release these toxins for good! it will be good for you in the end! i wish for you the best pile 4! very clear message and i hope you can cleanse yourself of whatever this may be for you! 🫶🪼

💫!ᑭIᒪᗴ 4 ᔕᑭᖇᗴᗩᗪᔕ!💫

66~Don’t worry! Pursue your life with optimism!

💫~ᖴOᖇ ᗩ ᑭᗴᖇᔕOᑎᗩᒪ Oᖇᗩᑕᒪᗴ, ᔕIᗰᑭᒪY ᗴᗰᗩIᒪ Oᖇ ᗰᗴᔕᔕᗩᘜᗴ ᗰᗴ~ ᕼOᑭᗴ TᕼIᔕ ᖇᗴᔕOᑎᗩTᗴᔕ ᔕTᗩᖇᒪIᑎᘜᘔ~💫

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astroyongie · 11 months ago

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Why Am I This Way - Psychology Answers

Note: Another one <3 Hope this one is informative

“How Am I” Section

“I Daydream a Lot.. Is That a Problem?”

What happens in the unconscious brain:

Day dreaming has a lot to do with our unconsciousness and with the way we used to play when we were a child.

As mentioned in my first post of this series, Freud explained that the “playing” (as in child playing) were the symbolism of our subconscious and mental structure through the (Ego, Superego and the ID).

To find more about these three components you can read this post:

In his case, Winnicot explains that playing allows us to create a middle world between the reality and the unconscious which in adulthood is translated through daydreaming or creating fake scenarios

While developing the theory, Winnicott also explains that playing/daydreaming isn’t intentional and it helps people to enter a state of relaxation while lowering our inner defenses.

Daydreaming help us lowering our anxiety, our stress and the negative emotions that often pushed us into a overwhelming burnout and outbursts

Healthy daydreaming isn’t dangerous. It is helpful because one is able to lose their identities for a short instance and become something they are not in order to smooth themselves from the reality they live in.

Although some daydreams can be a reflection of inner traumas, of fears and emotions, it is done through a way that provides comfort amidst the chaos.

Although this is a short period of time, this moment of relaxation is actually beneficial and it allows our subconscious to breathe in and out before pushing our defenses back up. It help us not being constantly on edge

Daydreaming is all about finding an interesting balance between the chaotic worry associated with many of life's challenges and the boredom of doing nothing

if you are interested in more of this topics you can check the works of Winnicott and Csikszentmihalyi

So what can we do?

One thing I think is important to yell, is that NO, daydreaming doesn't male you mentally sick and doesn't mean you are suffering from mental illnesses.

Daydreaming is a natural process, the same way playing is in children. it only becomes maladaptive and underlying a serious mental condition when it is affecting your daily life and impacting your health directly or your dissociations.

What is incredible is that Csikszentmihalyi explains that daydreaming can be the key to having a happy healthy life in some way

Because daydreaming doesn’t only provide a moment of relaxation, but also a moment were our creativity can run while, where we can absorb ideas and thoughts of something positive and most importantly, a way to detach ourselves from our own human condition to find some inner peace

So what can we do? Nothing really! If anything, daydreaming is a good coping mechanism as long as it reminds you of the neutral field and doesn't directly impact your daily life.

Allow yourself to push through that creativity, to bring yourself confort. If the daydreaming is too painful to remove yourself from or if it impacts your routines and plunges you into states of dissociation then that's the moment you should seek professional help because you balanced on the negative side of daydreaming

Now, you know where to work to become a better version of yourself

#psychology #psychology facts #psychology notes #psychology appointment #mental health #therapy #maladaptive daydreaming #daydreaming #obsessive daydreaming

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shintin · 1 year ago

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The Wacky Widow's Woes

↳ Gojo Satoru x Female Reader

Comedy one-shot

Summary: In a twist of fate, the most obnoxious person on Earth, Gojo Satoru, appeared by your hospital bed. Clearly, the universe had a wicked sense of humor.

Word count: 5k.

Genre: comedy, fluff, yapping (Jujutsu Kaisen au).

Warnings/Tags: humor, no angst, whipped Satoru Gojo, bitchy reader, a lot of jokes about chapter 236 of the JJK manga (my personal healing process), mention of Kitkat, prepare for Gojo's nauseating love for his wife, who's probably sick of him.

Notes: I hope you laugh your ass off while reading this.

You can read my fics on AO3. If you have any questions, don’t be shy and ASK.

On a very, very, very dull autumn afternoon, we find ourselves in a hospital room where its fancy ass curtains are just letting in enough sunlight to cast a gloomy, eerie glow.

There, on the bed, lies a woman who seems to have become one with the medical equipment—or, better to say, a high-tech octopus. Wires and tubes sprout from her body like overgrown vines, connecting her to an orchestra of beeping machines. It's like a twisted version of a modern art installation, where chaos and order collide in a symphony of medical mayhem.

The woman, blissfully oblivious to the cacophony surrounding her, snores away, blissfully lost in dreamland. It's almost comical how she manages to find solace amidst the tangled wires and the chorus of beeps. One might wonder if she's dreaming of a magical place where the cables turn into candy canes and the machines play cheerful tunes instead of somber heartbeats.

The lighting in the room sucks, perhaps to match the mood or new architectural ambiance design. For fuck's sake, who knows! Shadows dance across the walls, conspiring with the flickering fluorescent lights to create an atmosphere that's equal parts unsettling and strangely fascinating.

As if to bring a touch of irony to the scene, a sad excuse for a vase sits on a nearby table, barely holding onto life. Its wilted flowers, once vibrant and alive, now resemble a bouquet of autumn hues gone horribly wrong. It's a symbolic reminder that beauty is fleeting, just like the woman's health, and that even in the darkness, there's a twisted kind of beauty to be found.

The room carries the unmistakable scent of sterile cleanliness, mingled with a hint of despair. It's the kind of smell that makes you want to open a window and let in some fresh air (read jump out), but alas, in this hospital room, fresh air seems like a distant memory.

Well, hold on to your hospital gown because here's a plot twist for you! Picture this: you've been envisioning this serene hospital room, reading it in all its autumnal glory, and guess what? The woman lying on that bed, surrounded by beeping machines and tubes, is none other than... drumroll... you!

Yep, you're the star of the show, ready to wake up and face your second stroke. But hey, don't worry, it's not going to be as boring as your room décor. No, no, life has decided to throw you a curveball and add a dash of excitement to your hospital stay. Who needs a peaceful recovery when you can have a stroke sequel, right?

So get ready to jolt awake and embrace the chaos! Remember, even in between unexpected events, a good sense of humor can be the best medicine. Laughter might not cure your condition, but it can certainly make the hospital experience a little more bearable. So, chin up, brave stroke survivor! Your story is about to take an exciting turn!

Well, well, well.

As you wake up from your beauty sleep, feeling as if you've been smooching a cactus all night, the machines around you decide to unleash their inner DJs with a symphony of beeps. How thoughtful of them to create an auditory masterpiece that grates on your nerves like a tone-deaf choir. Ah, music to your ears, right?

But fear not, the brave warrior of hydration! You are on a noble quest to conquer the desert that has taken residence in your mouth. Summoning every ounce of strength (and probably some residual grumpiness), you muster the strength to ascend from your pillow fortress. With your hand gracefully reaching out for that tempting glass of water, victory feels within reach.

Your hand hovers mid-air as if suspended by an invisible force, frozen in a moment of pure disbelief. Just when you think the universe couldn't possibly play a more mischievous trick on you, there he was—sitting on the couch like he owns the place—the one person you would rather avoid more than a clown with a pie in hand. Seriously, is this some cosmic prank show?

Your eyes widen in disbelief, your heart skips a beat, and you can't help but let out a little groan. It's like the universe is trying to test your resilience, throwing you into this hilariously uncomfortable situation. Oh, the irony!

You: Hell no! What the fuck are you doing here?

Right in front of your very eyes sits the epitome of style and charm—a man sporting a white shirt and black pants combo that would weaken fashion gurus at the knees. No sunglasses dare cross the path of this confident fellow, for his piercing ocean-blue eyes need no protection from the sun's feeble attempts to outshine them.

But wait, there's more! Let's not forget about his head adorned with fluffy white hair that could rival the fluffiest clouds. Ugh!

Satoru: Hello to you too, love!

He strikes a pose that screams, "I'm the king of this couch!" With one leg casually crossed over the other and his arms spread wide on the back of the couch, he's claiming his throne in the most nonchalant and hilarious way possible.

Satoru: Is this how you greet your beloved husband?

You: Fuck off!

With the speed of a ninja on a caffeine high, you swiftly pull the blanket up to your chest, fully aware that the hospital gowns offer about as much coverage as a single sheet of tissue paper. Yes, those flimsy garments are the Victoria's Secret of the medical world—barely there and leaving little to the imagination! And just when you thought the situation couldn't get any more entertaining, you catch a glimpse of his famous smile. Asshole! Is he peeping on you?

Satoru: Aha! The feisty spirit lives on! Missed your sassy attitude.

He grins like a mischievous little rascal who just stumbled upon a secret stash of dad jokes, except it's a porn website!

Satoru: And, of course, your perked-up nipples!

Summoning your inner grumpy penguin, you dramatically cross your arms over your chest, shooting him a glare that could make a grizzly bear retreat in fear.

You: well, Mr. White-Haired Head with a stinky smirk and eyes bluer than a bottle of Windex, I didn't miss you AT ALL!

Satoru: Why, oh why, did you dye your hair white if you claim not to miss me, baby? Is it some secret signal to the hair gods that you're ready to experience the adventure of life without my captivating presence? Or perhaps it's your way of channeling the wisdom of Gandalf and Dumbledore, hoping that your newly snowy locks will grant you magical powers to forget all about me?

You: Hold your horses, chatterbox! My hair has turned snowy white without any meddling from me. No, I didn't secretly sprinkle it with magic hair dye while cackling like a mischievous sorcerer, you idiot!

Satoru: Whoopsie daisy! You've got a point there. Did I accidentally step on your delicate feelings, wise and experienced grandma?

In a grand display of determination, you muster every ounce of strength to grab the pillow behind your back, preparing to launch it at him. Alas, it seems the strength of a thousand paperclips has possessed your hands, rendering them feeble and incapable of fulfilling your pillow-throwing dreams. The valiant effort leaves you gasping for air as if you have just completed a marathon of pillow-tossing.

Satoru: Yowai mo!

He erupts into laughter, showcasing his undeniable talent as a professional tease.

You: Cut the crapola! Spill the beans! What on earth has brought you to this neck of the woods?

With your firm tone that could rival a drill sergeant's, the machine begins beeping faster than a sugar-rushed hummingbird on roller skates. It's as if the beeps are making their best impression of a hyperactive jazz band, matching the frantic tempo of your skyrocketing heart rates.

Satoru: I'll be rolling on the floor in laughter if you drop dead from the sheer intensity of your anger, Granny. Let's be real; finding inner peace is way more beneficial for you in the long run. Just saying!

You: Satoru!

Satoru: Yep, that's me. Breaking hearts and taking names. Can't a poor soul like me simply pay a visit to my dear wife on her deathbed?

You: Hell to the no! You can't just waltz in our life whenever you please! Sorry, but you lost that VIP visiting privilege when you—

Satoru: Oh, and on that note, could that charming chick who graced you with her presence earlier be our beloved daughter?

You sigh, exasperated, and gently rub your forehead as if trying to coax that headache into submission. Ah, the joys of a headache that seems set on conquering you before any actual sickness does. With a dramatic sweep of your hand across your face, you channel your inner drama queen and then grab your neck.

You: Oh, please, for the love of all that is awkward, just tell me that you didn't try to work your "smooth moves" on her.

Satoru: I was this close to making a move, you know? She's like a spitting image of when I was head over heels for you! It's like you've managed to clone yourself or something. Should I be worried? Did you secretly stash away all my precious genes and hoard them for your own amusement? Well, I guess I can't blame you for wanting to keep all those sperms to yourself! But seriously, she doesn't look like me at all. I am hurt!

He pouts like a baby, forever stuck in his eternal state of immaturity, but you aren't about to let that deter you. With an air of defiance, you casually lean against the hospital bed board, gazing intently at the serum making its grand entrance into your veins. Oh, and that obnoxious machine chiming away? You can't help but wish it could just shut up.

You: It's actually better for her, you know. At least she doesn't have anything that serves as a constant reminder of her absent father, who couldn't even be bothered to be present during her birth!

Your words are like a sarcasm waterfall, cascading with vicious wit. You've mastered the art of tongue-in-cheek remarks, and while you're fully aware of their potency, you couldn't care less. It's like you've got a license to sass, and you're not afraid to use it, even if it makes the world say, "Well, ain't you a delightful ray of sunshine!"

Satoru: Let's not paint the picture as if I had some glamorous options! Nope, I was bestowed with the honor of being the designated problem-solver, the one expected to handle it all while gracefully tiptoeing through—

You: Oh, pretty please! If it's not too much trouble, continue your reign as the honored one through heaven and earth, while sparing me from any additional bouts of annoyance. I must say, it's quite the talent you possess—being both honored and a master of irritation. Quite the balancing act, I must admit!

As you clench the blanket in desperation, that rebellious needle gleefully plunges itself into your hand. Fuck unexpected pain! And there, decorating your arm like a chilling masterpiece, are the bruises—trophy marks from your encounters with the needle army. Who knew injections could become an avant-garde art form? With tears welling up and the air growing thinner, it feels like the room is leaving you gasping for breath just to have a twisted sort of fun. Bravo, universe, for your fucked up sense of humor! A standing ovation for this macabre spectacle.

Satoru: Love?

You: …

Satoru: Baby?

You: …

Satoru: My Wondrous Whipped Cream Warrior, the Caramel Crusader, the Sprinkle Spritzer, the Marshmallow Maestro, the Treat Tornado, the Sugar Rush Superstar, the Jelly-filled Joy Bringer, and the Sweetness Sorceress who turns my world into a Never-ending Dessert Buffet! The Honeyed Pussy of—

You: WHAT? WHAT DO YOU WANT, SATORU?

You are wheezing like a chain-smoking asthmatic, desperately gasping for air, and his attitude is about as helpful as a wet matchstick. You and the mysteries of poor life choices! What possessed you, in that twisted moment of madness, to willingly plunge into the depths of infatuation with him? It's a dark, twisted enigma that not even the Grim Reaper could decipher.

Satoru: Are you still mad?

As you tilt your head, there he is, looking at you with those big, blue eyes, like a lost poppy desperately trying to win the "Most Heart-Melting Flower" award. What a sneaky trickster! He knows exactly what he is doing, employing his secret weapon of irresistible gazes, and darn it; it works like a charm! You can't resist the powers of those eyes, and you reluctantly surrender, cursing his effective tactics while secretly admiring his diabolical brilliance. Well played, Mr. Blue-Eyed Mother Fucker, well played.

You: I never stopped being mad at you!

Satoru: Fair, but you have to know that—

You: Spare me the creative excuses, please! You pulled off the greatest magic trick of all—knocking me up—and then poof! You disappeared into thin air, leaving me with a growing belly and a bewildered expression. Good job, Houdini!

Satoru: You're welcome, baby. But you've got to cut me some slack here! My job description practically has "Accident Enthusiast" written all over it. It's not like I wake up in the morning, rubbing my hands together, thinking, "Oh boy, I can't wait for another mishap!" So, let's blame it on my occupational hazard, shall we?

You: Oh, well, then, thank you so much for gracing us with your presence again! You chose to go down that path because, of course, you believed you were the one and only capable being in the universe. And oh, how lucky we are that you decided to leave me and our daughter behind. It's truly heartwarming to see you saunter back into our lives after years like it's just another casual stroll in the park. I mean, who needs a father figure during precious moments like birth, first words, and first steps, right? Clearly, you had more important things to attend to. Our daughter has grown up and gone through school, and I've had the pleasure of explaining why her dad couldn't be bothered to pick her up like those "normal" dads. Graduation, dating, first job—she did it all without you, and we couldn't be more grateful for your consistent absence. Now you have the audacity to—

You start coughing, and each painful gasp feels like your lungs are being ruthlessly ripped apart, leaving behind crimson stains on your once immaculate sheets and hands. And there he stands, towering tall, as handsome as the day he first stole your heart. It's just not fair that he still looks so good while sickness has mercilessly drained the life from your weary soul. He approaches you, the lingering scent of vanilla clinging to him, a bittersweet reminder of what you once cherished but now resentfully long for.

Satoru: Take a sip of water. Do you want me to help you?

Oh, he's all worried now, isn't he? But honestly, after enduring all that post-him misery, you're not about to let him off the hook just because he's offering a glass of water. Come on, you might be a little dumb, but you're not "drink-water-and-forget-all-the-pain" dumb! Nice try, buddy, but you'll need more than H2O to wash away the mess you left behind.

You: I DON'T NEED YOUR GODDAMN HELP! How about you kindly take a flying leap back to wherever you've been hiding all this time? I'm sure you've perfected your disappearing act by now. And don't forget to leave behind a trail of glittering resentment as you go, just to keep things spicy. Ta-ta, farewell, and may you step on a thousand Lego bricks on your way out!

Satoru: Listen up, partner in crime! I've had enough of leaving you to your own devices. It's been tough for me, too, and I sincerely apologize for piling on the hardship. But I learned my lesson! Starting right this very moment, I'm making a solemn vow never to ditch you again. Consider me your loyal sidekick, ready to tackle life's challenges together, even if it means enduring endless reruns of your favorite TV show or subjecting myself to your cooking experiments. We're in this for the long haul, love!

You use the sleeve of your flimsy, ridiculous gown to clumsily wipe away the blood from your mouth, all the while shooting him a perplexed look. Seriously, how on earth does he still manage to gaze at you with those doe eyes, all lovey-dovey, when you're rocking the vampire-on-a-sunlit-day aesthetic?

You: So, you decided to grace me with your presence just because I'm sick?

Satoru: Yes.

You: I see how it is! You're not here because you missed me, huh?

Satoru: Uh-oh, am I about to witness another round of your infamous anger? But hey, before you explode like a volcano, let me enlighten you that I didn't write the rulebook on how things work. Nope, not my area of expertise. Turns out, the universe didn't consult me when setting up the whole system. It seems they left me out of the committee meeting where they decided the rules of life. Classic!

You: Does it hurt?

Satoru: It hurt me badly because I snapped in half like a Kit-Kat bar. And no, there wasn't a delicious wafer filling in between, just pure pain and emotional wreckage.

You: Come on, Satoru! This is not the time for your quirky sense of humor. I mean, seriously, I saw your guts out in the open, and to top it off, ants decided to take a leisurely hike on them.

Satoru: TV producers really went all out with the graphic details, huh? Sure, I appreciate high-definition viewing, but did they need a close-up of my stuff? Talk about taking reality TV to a whole new level! I hope they provided a warning. Note to self: avoid snacking while watching shows that involve anatomical explorations!

You: SATORU!

Satoru: Alright, alright, no need to get serious! Can't a man crack a joke about his own death around here? Fine, I'll hold your hand during the whole thing. You know, I once spouted that cliché line about dying alone, but let's face it, that was a load of nonsense. Nobody goes down that final road solo. It's like a grand exit party!

You: Oh, really? So, you had some company, huh? Well, you know what they say: ignorance is bliss. I don't need the details, and my imagination can take a wild ride all on its own

Satoru: Jealousy looks good on you, love.

As he bends closer, his breath tickles your lips, making you wonder if he had onions for lunch. With a dramatic flourish, he grabs your chin as if auditioning for a cheesy romance movie. And then, like a vacuum cleaner on turbo mode, he plants a kiss that sucks the air right out of your lungs. It's like indulging in a dessert buffet filled with marshmallows, caramel, and insulin shots. Who needs a thrill ride at an amusement park when you can experience a sugar rush of epic proportions? You may be risking diabetes, but hey, at least you'll be leaving this world with a sweet tooth satisfied and an unforgettable, albeit comical, memory of that last smooch.

Unfortunately, after what feels like a fleeting eternity, he decides to break the kiss. As your eyes meet, you can't help but sneak a glance downwards, wondering if his pants harbored any surprises. Alas, it appears that either he's a master of disguise or ghosts have taught him their spectacular talent for concealment. Sneaky whores!

Satoru: Are you ready to go?

Oh, snap! Once the horniness fades away, reality hits you like a ton of bricks. Holy shit! How did you manage to forget about your daughter? Leaving her behind is definitely not the best parenting move. Time to snap back into responsible mode and give that little one the attention she deserves. Parenthood: where forgetfulness meets a reality check!

You: Will she be okay?

Satoru: She's our little munchkin. She'll be alright.

You: I want to see her for the last time.

Satoru: You can see her whenever you want.

You: WHAT?

He scratches his head, messing up his undercut, desperately trying to dodge eye contact like a game of social hide-and-seek.

Satoru: Ops! Did I just spill the beans on one of the perks of the afterlife? My bad! My master plan was to witness that priceless guilty expression on your face when we reached the pearly gates. Imagine your shock when you realized you blamed me for no reason, only to discover I had a front-row seat to all your shenanigans during all those years! Oh, the things I've seen! I know how many times you've touched yourself thinking about me! No judging, though! And yes, I know you secretly fumed when our little bundle of joy uttered "Dada" before "Mama." Don't worry, I won't tell a soul... except, you know, all the other souls up there. It's the ultimate celestial gossip!

You: WHAT? YOU KNOW EVERYTHING? THEN WHY THE FUCK YOU ASKED IF SHE'S OUR DAUGHTER?

Satoru: First, just to tickle your pickle. Second, as I cunningly planned.

You: You're still a brat!

Satoru: And you're still as beautiful as the day I lost you.

You: Smooth words, my friend, but let's not kid ourselves. I won't buy into any deceit. I'm old, wrinkled, and sick. Time and disease are killing me, just as you hated. Meanwhile, you continue to flaunt that glorious chiseled chest and those rock-hard butt cheeks.

Satoru: Thank you, ma'am, for keeping my ass in your thoughts. Speaking of which, I must confess I've made some boneheaded decisions along the way. Opting for death in the name of someone else can seem like a breeze compared to the complexity of choosing to live for them. So, kudos to you for being the badass who faced life's challenges to honor my memory.

You: I hope this is not just a dream.

Satoru: We can give it a try and see for ourselves.

As Satoru reaches out his hand, something extraordinary unfolds—the machine starts beeping. You look at the device, noticing that the time between beeps gradually increases. But then, your gaze shifts to your cherished spouse, the man whose absence has left an indelible void within you. The man with whom you would have fearlessly confronted doomsday on that fateful December 24th in 2018, had it not been for the fact that you were carrying his last trace of existence, a precious legacy nestled within your very being.

You: You feel so warm.

Satoru: Some things never change.

His hand gracefully slides towards your waist, triggering a chain reaction of chaos. Those pesky wires and tubes that were so dutifully attached to you? Well, they decide it's time for a break and go on a wild unplugging spree. It's like a rebellious dance party of freedom for those little connectors! And just when you thought things couldn't get any more exciting, your feet are about to touch the chilly floor, ready to embark on an unplanned adventure.

You: Hold up! Fetch my wheelchair for me!

Satoru: You don't need it anymore.

As you place your feet on the floor, you can't help but chuckle at the fact that your knees manage to hold up, allowing you to stand upright. The machines emit a continuous beeping sound, indicating a flat line on the monitor. Suddenly, the door swings open, and a troupe of nurses storm into the room. They swiftly gather around your motionless body lying on the bed. One nurse examines your vital signs, another administers an injection into your vein, and a third retrieves a machine to deliver cardiac shocks in an attempt to revive you. Witnessing these intense moments, you hold Satoru's hand tighter.

You: I don't want to come back.

Satoru: Are you sure?

Tears well up in the corners of your eyes and trickle down your cheeks as you gaze at him.

You: Yeah. I've spent more time living with your memory than I've had the opportunity to live alongside you.

Satoru's grip on your hand intensifies like he's determined to etch his touch into your very being. He lifts your hand delicately, planting a tender kiss upon it. Drawing you closer to him, he envelopes you in an embrace, burying your face in the warmth of his chest. With gentle affection, he presses a kiss upon the crown of your head, leaning his head upon yours.

As teardrops trickle onto your head, you find yourself clinging to him desperately, as if trying to hold onto the fragments of a shattered existence. In that agonizing moment, the harsh reality of his unfulfilled roles crashes down upon you like a relentless wave. He has endured the torment of being a husband bereft of a wife, a father denied a child, and a sensei forsaken his students.

Satoru: I will never let go of you anymore.

You: Is this just another one of those "oops, my bad" promises? You know, like when you swore to be to hold me for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health?

Satoru: Heyyy! I held you till death do us part. I even remember, the night before my, um, grand finale, I held you so good that you had spread your legs, moaning my name and begging me to hold you harder.

Just as you are ready to break free from his grasp and deliver a well-deserved bonk on his clueless head, the scene takes an unexpected turn. Your doctor rushes into the room and towards your bed, barking orders left and right, and proceeds to administer yet another mysterious injection into your poor, defenseless vein.

Deciding to redirect your attention, you avert your gaze and catch sight of your reflection in the nearby window. To your astonishment, your hair has magically reverted to its former glory, defying the clutches of time. Wrinkles? Vanished as if a skilled magician performed a grand disappearing act. You're suddenly transported back to the good ol' days of youthfulness. Bewildered, you inspect your once-bruised hands, only to find them as flawless as a newborn's.

You: Satoru? What's—

Satoru: I know, right? It turns out one of the unexpected bonuses of kicking the bucket is that you get to rock your sexiest form once again. So, brace yourself because I won't behave when you sashay around in that gorgeous drop-dead gown. I can't keep it in my pants till we arrive and I start making cream pies and babies with you!

You: Oh, my goodness! Does it actually work in the afterlife as well?

Satoru: You're referring to my... um, dick? Let me tell you, it still has the same old magic, if not a little extra pizzazz! It's like a fine wine, aging gracefully and delivering peak performance in the afterlife. Who knew there would be such perks beyond the grave?

You: No, idiot! I mean babies!

Satoru: How should I know? I made sure to wear a condom during my frisky encounters with angels.

You can't help but release an exasperated breath, causing your ears to turn as red as a tomato in a sauna. The thought of giving him a good old-fashioned strangling and sending him off to the after-afterlife has you chuckling at the absurdity of it all.

Satoru: Would it tickle your funny bone if I threw caution to the wind and played a game of "heavenly roulette" with unprotected encounters, potentially earning myself some out-of-this-world STD souvenirs?

With a masterful brow raise and a world-class eye roll, you are all set to deliver the ultimate "exit stage left" move. But he pulls off the ultimate surprise maneuver and hits you with the "Hold up, wait a minute" move. He has a secret superpower to freeze you in your snarky tracks! Goddammit! Those puppy eyes again.

Satoru: I was joking, okay? I just jerked off while watching your showering or self-exploration activities. I mean, fingering yourself while calling my name. That's it! Okay? Also, we should have a talk about that dildo you named Hollow Purple!

You: So, it seems you shamelessly watched everything, hm?

Satoru: Yes. Absolutely! I had a lot of spare time to slay, and, hey, let's not divert our attention from the Hollow Purple subject, you dirty little mouse!

You: God! Kill me already!

Satoru: Why? You're just itching to infiltrate the kingdom of my pants, aren't you?

You: You know what? I've had a change of heart. I'd rather try my chances with cosmic sickness than spend an eternity with your delightful company!

Satoru: Goodness gracious! You and your fiery temper! How on earth did you manage to cast a spell on me, making me fall for you?

You: It's common knowledge among our friends that everybody should bow down to your shameless expertise in the art of begging!

Satoru: Is that so?

He displays a smug smirk, his arms crossed firmly over his chest.

Satoru: Well, we can ask when we see them.

Your eyes go from their regular setting to full-on "wide-angle lens" mode, capturing the world in all its wide-eyed wonder. It is as if someone presses the "zoom" button on your peepers, revealing a comical level of astonishment.

You: They are there, too?

Satoru: Oh boy, buckle up for Nanamin's epic rage when he discovers our fashionably late entrance!

You: Well, chop-chop! Time to hit the road! We wouldn't want to unleash the wrath of the entire afterlife just because your chatty ass decided to go on such a long monologue!

He leans in and gently kisses your forehead, intertwining his fingers with yours as he guides you towards the door. As you both stand at the doorway, you cast a lingering gaze upon the nurses and doctor, who seem to have thrown in the towel on their attempts to revive you.

Satoru: I can't wait to spook everyone alongside you. You'll forever be my always.

Author's Note: I had an absolute blast writing this.

@enchantedforest-network 🤍

159 notes · View notes

yoshikoooo · 1 year ago

Text

Tsurune: Fujiwara shuu x Reader.

shuu x reader.

The tranquil sound of the night and released arrows filled the entire dojo. The soft and melodic sound you always hear and longed or maybe... loath for everyday ranged through your ears. In the middle of the blissful night there you were shooting your nine thousand and ninety-eight shot.

‘Fwip’

Applying every knowledge you learned from your grandfather and past experiences, really showed its result as you landed your arrow at the middle of the target. A profound sense of accomplishment washes over you as you stand there, silently contemplating the significance of this achievement.

'Kyudo... Kyudo... Kyudo..?'

With a heavy heart, you confront the forbidden recollections that threaten to engulf you. Each memory is a double-edged sword, carrying the weight of past triumphs and defeats alike. As you gaze upon the target, the turmoil within you becomes palpable, manifesting in the trembling of your hands and the turmoil in your eyes.

To an onlooker, it might seem as though you're battling an invisible force—a caged banshee struggling against the constraints of its own existence. Every fiber of your being is stretched taut, bound by threads of emotion that seem to have no end.

In that moment, you realize that kyudo is not merely a physical discipline—it is a journey of self-discovery, a quest to confront the demons that lurk within. And as you stand there, grappling with your inner turmoil, you understand that true mastery lies not in hitting the target, but in finding peace amidst the chaos of the mind.

'One more... just one more.. and It'll all end'

You made up your mind as you snapped from your thoughts to get your bow to continue. 10,000 shots for a Wish.

An oath. A promise. A will.

before you could even continue, A figure outside the dojo was seen. A silhoutte of a tall man with loose hair.

As you watch, anticipation coiling within you, the figure steps closer to the source of light, revealing loose strands of brown hair framing a face illuminated by the gentle glow.

Your breath catches in your throat as the figure's large purple eyes meet yours, sending a shiver down your spine. In that moment of profound connection, a name escapes your lips, whispered softly into the stillness of the night.

“Fujiwara...Shuu..san”

He was the one everyone idolized at school, the one whose mere presence seemed to command attention and admiration. But for you, he remained an enigma—a distant figure glimpsed from afar, yet never truly known. So what was your relationship with him? A classmate, A teammate? A Friend..? but nonetheless he felt like a stranger to you.

“Y/n san, Good evening”

His deep, melodic voice seems to cut through the chaos that had enveloped you moments before, offering a brief respite from the tumult of your thoughts.

Summoning a smile, you decide to take the initiative, breaking the silence that hangs between you like a heavy curtain. It's clear that he's not one to dominate the conversation, leaving you to steer its course with your own words.

“Hmm, What is the prince doing at saionji sensei’s dojo at this godly hour?”

you inquire, injecting a playful lilt into your voice. The weight that had hung over you moments ago dissipates, as if it were nothing more than a fleeting illusion.

Shuu's chuckle dances through the air like a gentle breeze, drawing your attention to the enigmatic figure before you. His gaze meets yours, and you can't help but tilt your head in curiosity, captivated by the subtle shifts in his expression.

"Saionji Sensei had me run an errand that ended up taking longer than expected," he explains, his voice carrying a hint of apology. "But I found myself drawn here, captivated by the sound of your tsurune."

His words are accompanied by a familiar smile, one that he seems to offer effortlessly to those around him. Despite his sincerity, you can't help but inwardly cringe at his straightforwardness, though you respond with a soft giggle.

"You flatter me," you reply, your smile unwavering as you deflect the compliment. "If that's the case, perhaps you should hurry back to Saionji Sensei before she falls asleep. It's quite late already."

You offer the suggestion with a gentle brush-off, hoping he'll take the hint.

“That I should.. Then Please excuse me..”

he responds with a slight bow, his departure signaling the end of your brief encounter. You watch in silence as he makes his way out of the dojo, his figure gradually fading into the darkness beyond.

With his departure, the smile on your face begins to falter, replaced by a weariness that settles deep within your bones. The moon hangs overhead, casting its ethereal glow upon the world below, a silent witness to the turmoil that churns within your soul.

"Tired... I'm so tired,"

With a resigned sigh, you straighten your posture and adjust your grip on the bow, steeling yourself for one final effort.

“One more shot...”

“Just one more..”

As you attempt to fix your form, you're suddenly overcome by a sensation of unease. Your body begins to tremble uncontrollably, sending a shiver down your spine. With a startled gasp, you drop the bow once again, collapsing to your knees in the dimly lit dojo.

"I'm shaking pretty badly," you mutter to yourself, your voice barely above a whisper as you struggle to regain control of your trembling limbs. Panic threatens to overtake you as you frantically search for an explanation for your sudden physical reaction.

Could it be hunger, you wonder, your mind grasping for any rational explanation. But deep down, you know that this tremor isn't the result of a skipped meal. It's something else entirely, something primal and instinctual that defies logic.

Taking in a shaky breath, you attempt to calm the racing of your heart, forcing yourself to focus on the rise and fall of your chest. Slowly, gradually, the trembling begins to subside, leaving you drained but determined to press on.

The cold embrace of the night air wraps around your frail body like a whispered plea, urging you to seek shelter and warmth. But you refuse to heed its call, not when you're so close to achieving your goal.

You clenched your jaw as you turn your gaze back to the target, willing yourself to push past the tremors that course through your body. Each shake sends ripples of doubt and fear coursing through your veins, but you refuse to let them hold you back.

‘no... not now...I just need 1 more... just 1 more!’

‘thud‘

you lash out, your fist connecting with the unforgiving wooden floor. Pain shoots through your hand, a sharp reminder of your own vulnerability. But you refuse to yield, gritting your teeth as you try to reign in the storm of emotions threatening to engulf you.

"Calm down... calm down... calm down..." you chant, the words tumbling from your lips like a desperate plea. Each repetition is a lifeline, a tether anchoring you to reality as you struggle to regain control.

But the bow remains just out of reach, mocking you with its proximity. Your hands tremble violently, betraying your inner turmoil, as you fight to grasp it once more.

“It’s not beautiful enough... Repeat!”

“You have no time mopping the floor, get up!”

The words echo through your ears, a reminder of the expectations placed upon you, both by others and by yourself. You can feel the weight of his disappointment bearing down on you, driving you to push past the pain and the fear.

But as the tears blur your vision and the sting of emotion threatens to overwhelm you, you can't help but wonder if you're losing your grip on reality. Madness seems to loom on the horizon, a specter taunting you with its proximity.

“Y/n...san?”

you're pulled back to reality by a soft and familiar voice echoing in the darkness. Relief floods through you as you draw a shaky breath, your chest rising and falling with the rhythm of newfound calm.

Slowly, you turn towards the source of the voice, your gaze meeting his familiar purple pupils. His presence is like a beacon of light in the midst of the darkness, offering solace and reassurance in a moment of profound vulnerability.

You watch as his soft features contort into a frown of concern, his brows furrowing as he approaches you with cautious steps. There's a tenderness in his demeanor, a gentle sincerity that washes over you like a wave, banishing the lingering shadows of fear and doubt.

“Y/n san... Do you feel unwell...?”

His voice, though soft as usual, carries a hint of uncertainty, and his eyes betray a flicker of sorrow.

You try to respond, to articulate the turmoil raging within you, but the words catch in your throat like a fish struggling against the current. Frustration wells up inside you, manifesting in the tight balling of your fists until your knuckles turn white. You can't bear to face him, feeling utterly pathetic in your vulnerability.

‘confiding into someone like the prince is so pathetic.. He surely won’t understand..”

Conflicting thoughts swirl in your mind like a tempest, each one more damning than the last. You can't help but feel that confiding in someone like him, someone who seems to effortlessly embody talent and grace, is an act of weakness. After all, unlike you, he was born with innate abilities that set him apart from the rest.

‘Damn it.. I’m.. so disgusting’ the word heavy with self-loathing. How could you dare to think so poorly of yourself? How could you let such toxic thoughts poison your mind?

But even as you chastise yourself, you can't shake the feeling of inadequacy that gnaws at your insides. It's a vicious cycle, a spiral of doubt and despair that threatens to consume you whole.

You feel the chill of his hand against your fevered forehead, a stark contrast to the heat that radiates from your flushed skin. With a sense of resignation, you lift your gaze to meet his, finding his face mere centimeters from yours.

"You seem to have a fever, Y/n san," he says, his voice carrying a note of concern. "I think you should rest for today."

As he withdraws his hand, you find yourself caught in the intensity of his gaze. There's a seriousness in his expression, tempered by genuine concern, that touches something deep within you. Despite your instinct to retreat, you can't help but feel a glimmer of gratitude for his kindness.

Feeling defeated and vulnerable, you look away once more, your gaze falling to the ground as you struggle to compose yourself. With a shaky breath, you attempt to gather your thoughts, to find the words that have eluded you thus far.

"No..." you begin, your voice wavering slightly as you reject the suggestion of going home. You can't ignore the way his brow twitches in concern, a silent acknowledgment of the gravity of your situation.

But even as you speak the word, you can't help but feel a pang of guilt gnawing at your insides. The weight of his unspoken worry hangs heavy in the air, a reminder of the burden you're placing on those around you.

You watch as his expression shifts, his concern mingling with frustration at your stubbornness. It's clear that even the spoiled prince recognizes the stupidity of overworking oneself to the point of destruction.

For a moment, silence hangs between you, thick with unspoken words and unresolved tension. You can feel the weight of his gaze upon you, a silent plea for you to reconsider.

"Saionji Sensei told me that you've been here since dawn," he begins, his voice tinged with a mixture of concern and frustration. "Breaking your own body just for the sake of archery is not something I would recommend, as an archer myself."

His words hang heavy in the air, a stark reminder of the toll your relentless pursuit of perfection has taken on your physical and mental well-being. You can feel the weight of his gaze boring into you, a silent accusation of your stubbornness and recklessness.

Yet, despite the gravity of his words, you remain rooted in place, your eyes fixed on the target before you. The arrows embedded within it serve as a testament to your determination, each one a marker of the sacrifices you've made in your quest for mastery.

"I... I know," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. His expression softens, a silent understanding passing between you.

As the cool breeze continues to drift through the dojo, you finally gather the strength to speak, the words tumbling from your lips in a hesitant whisper. Your energy slowly returns, the fog in your mind lifting ever so slightly as your vision clears and the lightheadedness begins to fade.

"Hey... what if you found kyudo to be the main source of your pain, yet you can't find a good reason to stop since it's something deeply attached to your heart?" you begin, your voice betraying a vulnerability that you've kept hidden for far too long.

You pause, gathering your thoughts as you meet his gaze, locking eyes with him as the wind gently tousles his loose brown hair. His purple eyes hold a depth of understanding that both comforts and unsettles you, a silent witness to the inner turmoil that plagues your soul.

"What would you do?" you continue, your voice barely above a whisper. The weight of the question hangs heavy in the air, a reflection of the existential crisis that has consumed your every waking moment.

His reaction is subtle yet profound, his demeanor shifting slightly as he processes the gravity of your inquiry. You can see the gears turning in his mind, a silent acknowledgment of the seriousness of the situation.

For a moment, the dojo is enveloped in silence, the only sound the gentle rustle of the wind outside. And then, finally, he speaks, his voice steady and measured.

"I would listen to my heart," he says, his gaze unwavering as he meets your tired, empty eyes. "If kyudou may be a source of pain, but it's also a part of who you are. Only you can decide if the pain is worth the passion it brings."

His words resonate within you, stirring something deep within your soul. For the first time in what feels like an eternity, you feel a glimmer of hope flickering to life within you.

‘Listening to your heart...’ It sounds simple enough, but in reality, it's a daunting task. Your heart is a labyrinth of desires and fears, a maze of conflicting emotions that often lead you astray.

But as you stand there, locked in his gaze, you find yourself drawn to the truth in his words. Kyudo may be a source of pain, but it's also a source of passion and purpose—a part of you that refuses to be ignored.

With a newfound sense of clarity, you take a deep breath, letting the weight of your burdens fall away, if only for a moment. The wind whispers through the dojo, carrying with it a sense of possibility and renewal.

"Thank you," you say softly, your voice barely a whisper amidst the stillness of the night. "I needed to hear that."

He nods, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. There's a warmth in his eyes, a silent reassurance that you're not alone in this journey.

As your gaze shifts to the arrows embedded in the target, a newfound clarity washes over you, illuminating your path forward. The weight of the world seems to lift from your shoulders as you come to a decision.

"I guess I can continue it tomorrow," you mumble softly to yourself, your smile genuine and free from the facade you've worn for so long. In that moment, the world seems to shift, offering you a glimpse of a future filled with possibility and promise.

Shu's smile mirrors your own as he extends his hand towards you, a silent offer of support and companionship. Without hesitation, you reach out and take it, a sense of gratitude swelling within you as you lock eyes with him once more.

"I can drop you off," he says, his voice warm and reassuring. Before you can decline, he continues in a joking tone, "I would get scolded if I let a sick person like you get home on your own, right?"

His playful remark catches you off guard, eliciting a chuckle from deep within your chest. It's a side of him you hadn't seen before, a glimpse of the warmth and humor that lies beneath his cool exterior.

"You're really interesting, Fujiwara-san,"

#shuu x reader #kyudou #fujiwara shuu #tsurune #tsurune x reader #slight angst #or maybe just a whole shit of angst.#noticed the lack of delulu shit about tsurune #trauma

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magickkate · 1 year ago

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Hey there, fellow witches-in-training! Ready to learn how to fortify your energetic boundaries and protect yourself from unwanted vibes? Let's dive into the magical world of warding and shielding—essential skills for any budding practitioner. Here's the lowdown:

🌿 What is Warding?

Warding is like setting up a magical barrier around yourself or your space to keep out negative energy, entities, or influences. It's your personal energetic security system, designed to maintain harmony and protect against psychic intruders.

🔮 How to Ward:

Clear Your Space: Before warding, it's essential to cleanse your space of any lingering negativity. You can do this through smoke cleansing with herbs, sprinkling salt, or using sound vibrations with bells or singing bowls.

Set Your Intention: Decide what you want your wards to accomplish. Are you focusing on protection, privacy, or something else? Be clear and specific about your intentions.

Create Your Warding Tools: This can include crystals, charms, sigils, or even visualization techniques. Choose whatever resonates with you and feels most empowering.

Activate Your Wards: Place your chosen tools around your space or carry them with you as needed. Visualize a protective barrier forming around you, reinforcing your intention with each breath.

Reinforce Regularly: Warding isn't a one-and-done deal—it requires regular maintenance and reinforcement. Check in with your wards periodically and adjust them as needed.

🛡️ What is Shielding?

Shielding is like putting on a magical suit of armor to deflect negative energy and psychic attacks. It's all about strengthening your energetic boundaries and maintaining your inner peace amidst external chaos.

🌟 How to Shield:

Ground Yourself: Connect with the earth's energy by visualizing roots growing from your feet into the ground below. This helps you stay rooted and centered in your power.

Visualize Your Shield: Imagine a bubble or aura of protective light surrounding you, extending several feet in all directions. Envision it as impenetrable and invincible, repelling negativity like water off a duck's back.

Set Your Boundaries: Intend for your shield to only allow in positive energy while blocking out anything harmful or intrusive.

Maintain Awareness: Stay mindful of your shield throughout the day, especially in situations where you feel vulnerable or overwhelmed. Adjust its strength and size as needed to suit your surroundings.

Keep in mind, both warding and shielding are highly personal practices, so feel free to experiment and find what works best for you. Trust your intuition, stay grounded, and know that you have the power to create and maintain your own sacred space. Stay magical, my friends! 🌌✨

Sources: Sebastiani A. By Rust of Nail & Prick of Thorn. Independently Published; 2020. Wigington P. How to Magically Ground, Center, and Shield. Learn Religions. Published June 25, 2019. https://www.learnreligions.com/grounding-centering-and-shielding-4122187

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muiitoloko · 11 months ago

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Becoming a regretter

Summary: Eli remembers his daughter and becoming a remorseful man.

Pairing: Eli Michaelson × Daughter! Reader

Warning: Neglectful father, mention of death, regret and guilt.

Author's Notes: I wrote a short sequel to this fanfic, but I'm not sure whether I should continue writing it. I'd like to ask for your opinion and any ideas you may have, so feel free to comment.

First, Second, Third and Fourth part here.

Eli trudged through the hallway of his home, his footsteps heavy with irritation as he attempted to find a moment of peace amidst the chaos. But no matter where he went, he couldn't escape the relentless presence of his two-year-old daughter, who trailed behind him like a persistent shadow.

"Come on, sweetheart, go play with your toys," Eli grumbled under his breath, his patience wearing thin as he attempted to gently coax his daughter away. But you remained steadfast in your determination to stay by his side, your chubby little legs toddling after him with unwavering determination.

Sarah, occupied with caring for their one-year-old son Barkley, found the scene amusing, chuckling softly as she watched Eli attempt to evade their daughter's relentless pursuit. "Oh, Eli, isn't it sweet how attached she is to you?" she remarked with a fond smile, oblivious to Eli's growing frustration.

But Eli was in no mood for sentimentality, his irritation mounting with each passing moment. He made his way to the bathroom, hoping to find a moment of respite, only to have his daughter follow closely behind, abandoning your toys in favor of sticking to him like glue.

"Come on, darling, Daddy needs to use the bathroom," Eli said through clenched teeth, his irritation palpable as he tried to gently urge his daughter to go back to playing. But you only clung to him tighter, your innocent eyes wide with adoration.

Inside the bathroom, Eli attempted to close the door, but you wedged herself between the doorframe and his leg, refusing to be left behind. With a growl of frustration, Eli pushed your gently out of the way and closed the door, hoping for a moment of peace.

But his hopes were quickly dashed as you began knocking on the door, your tiny fists pounding against the wood as you called out for your daddy. "Daddy, are you finished yet?" you asked in her sweet, childish voice, oblivious to her father's mounting irritation.

Eli gritted his teeth in frustration, cursing under his breath as he hurriedly finished his business. But even as he emerged from the bathroom, you was waiting for him outside, your face lighting up with joy at the sight of him.

"Are you done, Daddy?" you asked with a wide smile, your eyes shining with excitement.

Eli resisted the urge to snap at you, instead forcing a strained smile as he replied, "Yes, darling, Daddy's finished."

Your smile widened, and you extended your arms, eager to be picked up. But Eli ignored your gesture, brushing past you without a second glance.

Undeterred, you followed closely behind, clinging to his leg like a determined koala. Eli tried to shake you off gently, but you held on tightly, your giggles filling the air as you refused to let go.

With a resigned sigh, Eli relented, allowing you to cling to his leg as he made his way through the house. You laughed and screamed with delight, completely unaware of your father's inner turmoil.

Eli remembered how much he had hated these moments, your weight and stickiness grating on his nerves. But now, as he lay on the couch with a bottle of whiskey in his hand, he couldn't help but long for those simple, carefree days.

He thought of you, his precious little girl, now lost to him forever, her body lying at the bottom of the cold, unforgiving waters beneath the Golden Gate Bridge. There was no body for Eli to bury, no closure to be found in the wake of your tragic demise.

Tears welled up in Eli's eyes as he thought of the moments he had missed, the opportunities he had squandered in his relentless pursuit of academic glory. He had been too wrapped up in his own ambitions to truly appreciate the beauty and innocence of your childhood, too blind to see the love and affection you had offered so freely.

And now, as he sat alone in the darkness of his empty home, Eli couldn't help but feel a profound sense of loss. He had lost his daughter, his precious little girl, and no amount of whiskey could numb the pain of her absence.

With a heavy heart, Eli took a swig from the bottle, the burning liquid offering a brief respite from the torment of his grief. But even as he drowned his sorrows in alcohol, he knew that there was no escaping the emptiness that now consumed him, the gaping void left behind by your untimely death.

He remembered the day he had rushed to the hospital upon hearing the news of your assault, his heart heavy with fear and desperation. But as he entered the hospital room, hoping to find solace in your presence, he was met with a wall of silence that struck him like a physical blow.

You lay on the bed, unmoving and unresponsive, your eyes fixed on a point in the distance as if the world around you held no significance. Eli felt a pang of pain shoot through his chest at the sight of your indifference, a sharp contrast to the adoration and affection you had always shown him.

Sarah, your mother, had rushed to your side, tears streaming down her face as she attempted to comfort you. But you remained impassive, your gaze unfocused and distant as she hugged you tightly, her sobs echoing in the sterile hospital room.

Eli had never experienced your indifference before, and it cut him to the core in a way he couldn't quite articulate. He was used to being adored by you, to basking in the warmth of your love and affection. But now, as he stood there watching you, he felt a sense of rejection that he had never known before.

He tried to approach you, to offer some semblance of comfort in the midst of your pain, but you ignored him completely, refusing to acknowledge his presence in any way. Eli felt a lump form in his throat as he struggled to comprehend the depth of your indifference, his heart aching with a pain that seemed to consume him from within.

The doctor, sensing the tension in the room, intervened, gently removing Sarah from your side and ushering her and Eli out of the bedroom. He explained that you refused to talk to anyone, that the trauma you had suffered had left you unable to engage with the world around you.

As Sarah wept in Eli's arms, he couldn't help but feel a sense of helplessness wash over him, his usual arrogance and self-assurance crumbling in the face of your suffering. He had always prided himself on his ability to control any situation, to bend the world to his will with ease. But now, faced with your silent indifference, he felt powerless, unable to offer you the comfort and support you so desperately needed.

And the next day, Eli stayed with you in the hospital room, trying to find some semblance of normalcy amidst the chaos that had engulfed your lives. He turned on the TV, hoping to distract you from the weight of your silence, but you remained distant and unresponsive, your eyes fixed on the flickering screen without really seeing it.

As you hesitantly picked at the hospital food on your plate, barely moving it, Sarah had gone home to take a shower, leaving you alone with Eli and Barkley. Eli watched you closely, his heart heavy with guilt and regret as he struggled to find the right words to say.

Eventually, he sent Barkley home too, telling him to take a shower and get some sleep. Barkley hesitated, casting a worried glance in your direction, but ultimately complied, leaving you alone with Eli.

As the door closed behind Barkley, Eli turned to you, a sense of frustration bubbling up inside him. "Why won't you talk to me, [Your Name]?" he demanded, his voice tinged with guilt. "Do you think I don't know what happened to you? Do you think I don't care?"

You remained silent, your gaze fixed on the hospital food in front of you as you tensed slightly at his words. Eli's frustration mounted as he watched your lack of reaction, his guilt gnawing at him like a relentless beast.

"I'm sorry, okay?" Eli's voice softened as he reached out to touch your hand, his fingers trembling with emotion. "I didn't believe it at first. I thought it was just some random man trying to extort money from me. I didn't think it was true."

But you still didn't respond, your silence like a barrier between you and your father, impenetrable and suffocating. Eli felt a surge of frustration welling up inside him, a desperate need for you to react, to do something besides sit there in silence.

"Fucking talk to me!" Eli's voice rose with anger as he slammed his fist on the bed, his frustration boiling over. "Do something besides just sitting there like a fucking statue!"

But you remained silent, your eyes still fixed on the hospital food as if it held the answers to all the questions swirling inside your mind. Eli felt a pang of desperation grip his heart as he realized the futility of his efforts, the distance between you seeming to grow wider with each passing moment.

"Fine, be that way!" Eli spat out bitterly, his voice laced with resentment as he pushed himself away from the bed, his frustration reaching its boiling point. "Just sit there and wallow in your fucking misery. See if I care!"

With a heavy heart, Eli stormed out of the hospital room, the weight of his guilt and regret bearing down on him like a leaden weight. He couldn't bear to be in your presence any longer, the sight of your silent suffering cutting him to the core in a way he couldn't quite articulate. But he knew you needed him here, even if it was frustrating your silence and indifference to him.

Days later, Eli drove towards your apartment, his mind was a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. He couldn't shake the guilt that gnawed at him, the knowledge that he had failed you as a father weighing heavily on his conscience. But alongside the guilt was a deep-seated anger, a resentment towards you for your silence, for your refusal to acknowledge him in your time of need.

Sarah sat quietly beside him in the passenger seat, her eyes filled with concern as she glanced at Eli from time to time. She reached out to touch his hand, offering a silent gesture of support that Eli couldn't bring himself to reciprocate. Instead, he focused on the road ahead, his jaw clenched tight with tension as he navigated the familiar streets towards your apartment.

When they arrived, Eli parked the car and climbed out, his movements stiff and mechanical as he made his way around to the backseat to help you out. You emerged from the car without a word, your silence a stark reminder of the distance that had grown between you and your father.

Together, the three of you made your way up to your apartment, the atmosphere heavy with tension as you entered the familiar space. Sarah bustled around, making tea and fussing over you like a mother hen, while Eli stood awkwardly by, unsure of what to do or say.

After settling you in, Sarah suggested that they stay for a few days to help you adjust to being back home. Eli didn't object, knowing deep down that he couldn't bear to leave you alone in your current state.

But as the days went by, Eli couldn't help but feel a growing sense of frustration and helplessness as he watched you retreat further into your shell, your pain and suffering consuming you like a suffocating fog. Your routine remained unchanged, your days spent in solitary silence, your only solace found in the strokes of your paintbrush against canvas.

Sarah's attempts to reach out to you fell on deaf ears, her concern and care met with stubborn resistance as you withdrew further into yourself. She cooked elaborate meals, hoping to entice you with the aroma of home-cooked food, but you barely touched the plates she set before you, your appetite nonexistent in the face of your overwhelming grief.

Today was no different. As Sarah presented you with a plate of food, you merely glanced at it before returning your attention to your painting, your brush moving with a frenetic energy that seemed to mirror the turmoil within your soul. Eli watched from the sidelines, his frustration mounting with each passing moment.

"Enough," Eli's voice cut through the tense atmosphere, his tone commanding as he stepped forward, his authoritative presence filling the room. "You will stop painting and eat something. I'm your father, and you will obey me."

You tensed up at his words, your grip on the paintbrush tightening as a flicker of defiance sparked in your eyes. But before you could respond, Eli repeated his command, his voice brooking no argument.

"I said enough," Eli repeated, his tone firm as he reached out to take the paintbrush from your hand. But as his fingers closed around the handle, you reacted with a sudden burst of violence, grabbing the nearest object and hurling it at him with a strength born of desperation.

The object turned out to be one of your paintbrushes, and it struck Eli squarely in the forehead with a resounding thud. He let out a sharp cry of pain, staggering back as Sarah screamed in shock, her hands flying to her mouth in horror.

Before Eli could recover from the blow, you were already reaching for another object, your movements frantic and erratic as you sought to defend yourself from the perceived threat. Eli scrambled to dodge the incoming projectiles, his reflexes tested to their limits as he tried to protect himself from your onslaught.

"S-stop!" Sarah's voice rang out, her pleas falling on deaf ears as you continued to lash out with a ferocity that took Eli by surprise. But Sarah refused to give up, placing herself between you and Eli in a desperate bid to diffuse the tension.

"Please, [Your Name], stop!" Sarah begged, her voice trembling with fear as she pleaded with you to cease your attack. But you seemed oblivious to her words, your mind consumed by a primal instinct to defend yourself at all costs.

With a final surge of energy, you grabbed another object, your fingers closing around it tightly as you prepared to launch it at Eli. But as you hesitated, your eyes met Sarah's, and something seemed to shift within you.

For a moment, you wavered, the glass slipping from your grasp as your hands began to shake with uncertainty. And then, as if awakening from a trance, you released the glass and turned away, retreating to the safety of your bedroom with a sense of defeat weighing heavily on your shoulders.

Eli watched in stunned silence as you disappeared behind the closed door, his forehead throbbing with pain as he struggled to process what had just happened. Sarah rushed to his side, her hands gentle as she inspected the wound on his forehead with a look of concern.

But Eli barely felt the pain, his mind consumed by a whirlwind of emotions as he grappled with the fallout of your outburst. He couldn't shake the sense of guilt that gnawed at him, the knowledge that his actions had only served to further alienate you in your time of need.

As he nursed his wounded pride, Eli couldn't help but wonder what had driven you to such extremes, what demons lurked beneath the surface of your stoic facade. And as he sat alone in the darkness of the living room, the echoes of your screams still ringing in his ears.

Feeling the weight of his daughter's absence like a physical burden, Eli rose unsteadily from the couch, the empty whiskey bottle slipping from his grasp and clattering to the floor. He stumbled slightly, his movements sluggish and uncoordinated as he made his way towards his study, his mind clouded with grief and regret.

As he entered the study, Eli's eyes fell upon the stack of papers piled haphazardly on his desk, a reminder of the responsibilities he couldn't afford to neglect. With a sigh, he sank into the plush leather chair behind the desk, his fingers trembling slightly as he reached for the topmost paper.

But as he began to peruse the test papers, his mind drifted back to the painful memories that haunted him, the image of his daughter's lifeless body etched into his mind like a cruel mockery of his failure as a father. He felt a surge of anger welling up inside him, directed both at himself and at the cruel twist of fate that had robbed him of his precious little girl.

But alongside the anger was a profound sense of loss, a gnawing emptiness that seemed to consume him from within. He had failed his daughter in life, and now, in death, he was left to grapple with the overwhelming weight of his guilt and regret.

With a heavy heart, Eli forced himself to focus on the task at hand, pushing aside his emotions as he delved into the tedious process of grading his students' tests. But with each passing moment, the memories of his daughter's tragic demise threatened to overwhelm him, casting a dark shadow over his already troubled mind.

He worked tirelessly, his movements mechanical and robotic as he plowed through the stack of papers with grim determination. But try as he might to bury his grief beneath the weight of his responsibilities, the pain of his loss remained ever-present, a constant reminder of the gaping void that now loomed large in his life.

Hours passed in a blur of mind-numbing monotony, the only sound in the room the scratching of Eli's pen against the paper as he diligently corrected his students' mistakes. But even as he worked, his thoughts kept drifting back to his daughter, her absence like a gaping wound that refused to heal.

Eventually, Eli finished grading the last test paper, the finality of the moment hitting him like a ton of bricks. He sat back in his chair, his gaze unfocused as he stared blankly at the wall before him, his mind consumed by a whirlwind of conflicting emotions.

And as he sat in his study, grappling with the weight of his grief and regret, another memory came rushing back, unbidden and unwelcome. It was a memory of a time long ago, when his daughter was just a young child, innocent and full of life.

He remembered sitting at the same desk, engrossed in his work, when the door to his study creaked open, revealing the sight of his daughter standing there, rubbing her sleepy eyes as she emerged from her nap. Eli glanced up from his papers, his irritation evident as he took in the sight of his daughter interrupting his work.

"What do you want, [Your Name]?" Eli's voice was tinged with annoyance as he looked at you, his focus returning to the papers spread out before him.

But you paid no heed to his irritation, determined to seek out the comfort of your father's presence. You toddled over to him, your small feet making soft thuds against the hardwood floor as you approached his desk. With a determined expression, you hoisted yourself up onto his lap, settling yourself comfortably as you looked up at him with wide, curious eyes.

"What are you doing, Daddy?" you asked innocently, your voice filled with childlike curiosity as you peered at the papers and books scattered across his desk.

Eli sighed in exasperation, his irritation mounting as he tried to focus on his work. "I'm working, [Your Name]," he replied curtly, his tone conveying his impatience as he attempted to brush you off.

But you remained undeterred, your curiosity getting the better of you as you examined the contents of his desk with keen interest. You reached out to touch a stack of papers, your fingers tracing the lines of text with a childlike fascination.

Eli's patience wore thin as he watched you, his irritation boiling over as he struggled to concentrate on the task at hand. "Stop that, [Your Name]," he snapped, his voice harsh as he gently removed you from his lap and set you down on the floor. "Go find your mother and leave me alone."

But as you turned to leave, a sense of hurt flickered across your face, your bottom lip trembling slightly as you glanced back at your father with wounded eyes. Eli's heart clenched at the sight of your distress, a pang of guilt shooting through him like a bolt of lightning.

He watched in silence as you hesitated for a moment, as if unsure whether to stay or go. And then, with a heavy sigh, you nodded in understanding, your shoulders slumping slightly as you turned and made your way out of the room.

But before you left, you paused in the doorway, your gaze lingering on your father for a moment longer. "I love you, Daddy," you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper as you spoke the words that had always come so easily to you.

Eli felt a lump form in his throat at your words, a surge of emotion welling up inside him as he struggled to find the right response. But before he could gather his thoughts, you were already gone, disappearing down the hallway with a sense of resignation that cut him to the core.

Now, sitting alone in his study, grappling with the weight of his grief and regret, he couldn't shake the memory of your words, the simple declaration of love that had always been so effortless for you. He felt a profound sense of loss wash over him, the knowledge that he had failed you as a father weighing heavily on his conscience.

With a heavy heart, Eli bowed his head, his cheek coming to rest against the cool surface of the wooden table before him. He closed his eyes, allowing the tears to flow freely as he surrendered to the overwhelming tide of emotion that threatened to consume him.

In that moment of vulnerability, Eli couldn’t help but remember the painting hanging on the wall in front of him, which he had received for his birthday. He had belittled and dismissed it as nothing more than scribbles. But now, as he gazed at the colorful strokes and vibrant tones that adorned the canvas, he saw it in a different light.

It was a portrait of him, rendered with such love and care that it took his breath away. You had captured every detail with painstaking precision, from the slight tilt of his head to the twinkle in his eye, imbuing the painting with a warmth and affection that Eli had never truly appreciated until now.

And Eli regretted it, regretted not having appreciated you as he should have—his little girl, his daughter, who was now dead while Eli stood there, becoming remorseful.

#eli michaelson #alan rickman #alan rickman x reader #eli michaelson x reader #nobel son #daughter reader

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