#because i knew ahead of time that he would betray them all

[gayboss-too-close-to-the-sun]

I am going to murder Griffith I swear to god. Sure, the eclipse pissed me off, made me hate him, but somehow chapter 180 is worse. He protected Casca. He doesn’t have the fucking right. How dare he go near her, how dare he talk to Rickert like a friend, how dare he act like he has a right to protect Casca. He lost that privilege long ago.

[clare-875]

Come Home (Ace x Reader)

_____ Pairing: Ace x Female Reader Summary: What if coming home to you was more important? Warnings: Angst/Fluff, SPOILERS for Marineford War Arc, Descriptions of pregnancy [One Piece Masterlist] _____

"He said something bad about pops."

Despite others fleeing the sight of Whitebeard and the final form of him standing in his strength and safety, eyes turn to Ace who stands unmoving amid Akainu's provocative words. "Whitebeard will die a loser! A fitting death for the admiral of a mountain of garbage!" Ace feels the harsh grit of his teeth as he remains rooted and stubborn. He mocked the man who saved him. The man who gave him purpose when he felt unworthy of love or life. The man who gifted days upon the sea with a crew that truly accepted him. The man who sacrifices himself now for his beloved sons and their safety. However, Ace, lost in his rage at Akainu's words also ignores those of his comrades around him who fought tooth and nail to retrieve him safe and sound. Luffy looks questioningly at Ace's rigid form, tired after the poison that had invaded his skin and the countless battles he had faced for his brother. As he takes the bait, Ace does not see the glint in Akainu's eyes.

"Don't listen to him Ace, come on!"

"Ace?!"

"Ace don't stop, keep running!"

"Ace!!"

Among the crew is Marco and he witnesses the second division commander stop; his closest crewmate stop. But all he feels is burning rage. However, his anger is not directed at Akainu and the words he places so purposefully and alluringly towards them, but at the sight of his friend giving up on a promise he had made several months ago. He hates that Ace now hesitates, when all Marco thinks about is you; you waiting for him to come home. For once Marco hopes Ace's tenacious nature will not betray him because he was there; he witnessed his promise to you. "I will return to you [y/n], no matter what, I promise." Did those words mean nothing to him now as he is lured by the words of the enemy, insults that are obviously made so there is reason to attack? The sight of him makes fury evident in his figure. "Ace!!" And the man hears his name called but he doesn't budge. "So, your promise to her means nothing?" Ace feels his mind waver and his grip tighten against the etches of his hands, as though winded by his words. "What about [y/n]?! She's waiting for you!"

Ace stays entrenched and motionless, but in his mind, he remembers you.

"Ace!" You had smiled up at him, enveloping him instantly in a warm embrace that he had missed more than you could ever know. He remembers how he lifted you from the ground so easily and spun you within your hold, lost in burning love and ecstasy. He hears your gleeful laugh and returns it with a muffled chuckle as he lets you down and breathes you in. He missed you. You weren't a pirate, but you were an owner of a restaurant on an island that the Whitebeard pirates visited regularly. It was their favourite spot and they knew you well. You grinned as you saw the crew saunter in from behind him laughing and patting Ace on the back teasingly at the sight of him so lost in his adoration of you. Marco grinned as he looked at you and gave you a quick hug in greeting before smirking at the sight of Ace's burning eyes. "This guy couldn't stop talking about you. Thought we'd have to come back sooner 'cause it looked like he was about to start swimming to you-yoi." You let out a laugh as Ace starts yelling at him incoherently when he lets his words slip. But the crew laughs along with you; it wasn't too far from reality.

They had never seen Ace sulk so much, or light up as much as the times he spoke your name wistfully to the sky. "I wonder what [y/n]'s doing today." Your name was uttered when they arrived on islands, passing through stalls as they stocked up for the journeys ahead. "I bet [y/n] would like this." Your name was heard in the depths of drunken evenings as Ace woke up from a fit of sleep mumbling loudly. "[y-y/n], where is she?" They even heard your name spoken in the most dire circumstances amid threats of powerful enemies. "There's no way I'll lose, I promised [y/n] I'd return; no exceptions." And it was true. Before he left he would leave you with a lingering kiss and an oath with devotion etched in his eyes. "I will return to you [y/n], no matter what, I promise." This time was no different, but for you who kept a secret, everything was about to change. As the crew settled into your restaurant and were served beer and as much food as they could devour, you had pulled Ace beyond your kitchen to a more quiet space. Ace had looked confused at your abrupt hope to get him alone but he did not complain; he would follow you anywhere.

When you looked up to him in silence he saw nervousness rage in your eyes and your fidgeting hands as they pulled against your skin. It made him perplexed, and concerned. Why did you look like you were going to be sick? Why did you look so nervous; it was just him. He cupped your face gently as you breathed in steadily readying the sentence that would transform your lives. He had looked down at you, words muttered in his confusion. "[y/n], what's wrong?" You returned his gaze with a shaky smile as you tried to ignore the raging thoughts of doubt in the back of your mind; You were pregnant. You had learnt of it two months ago, just after the crew had left. You were glad their journey had been brief as they returned to you so much sooner than they usually would, but now you were scared; terrified. You knew of Ace's past and his experience with fatherhood as a child. But you also knew you owed him the truth; he deserved it. So, you spoke shakily as you returned his willful gaze. "I have something to tell you, something important." Ace's mind whirls as you look at him so unusually serious and it makes him almost fear the worst; were you leaving him?

But he nods slowly at your hesitance though his touch falters on your skin. "You can tell me anything [y/n], you know that." You nodded to him slowly, an anxious grimace dancing on the corners of your face. "Please don't be mad." Ace feels his heart thrum faster at that as he tries and fails to control the emotions that threaten him. Please; you wouldn't leave him now, right? He loved you too much to let you go. But your next words are so contradictory to his thoughts they made him stand still and frozen in shock. "Ace, I'm pregnant." For a moment everything in his world comes to a halt and he swears he stops breathing. You witness the blankness of his stare as his mind tries and fails to process your words. Your heart is pounding and your eyebrows are furrowed in worry as you look at him, taking his reaction for the worst. But unbeknownst to you Ace is lost between the inklings of fear but also utter joy. "Ace, I- I'm sorry but-" He interrupts you as his eyes look to you with sudden fierceness you almost take a step back. "I- I'm going to be a father?" He turns to you then, hands firm but gentle around your shoulders as you look at his resolve in shock. "I-I am the father right?" You feel it then, the bubbling laughter that you let free at his tentative words. You roll your eyes. "Of course, you're the father; who else would there be?"

It is all the reassurance he needs.

Ace has you bundled in his warm embrace, tears of joy seeping from his eyes as you let your own happiness fall to your face. You hear his laughter grow and see the utter bliss that envelops him. "You're happy?" You ask hopefully looking at his reaction as though it wasn't enough. Ace nods as he breathes out in disbelief looking at you like you are an angel on Earth. The ecstasy stills into lingering comfort as he grips your hand in his tightly. "I won’t lie, I’m scared… but the two of you are all I need; I’m with you every step of the way." You could almost cry at his sentimental words free of teasing and his usual lightheartedness. You grin so brightly and Ace's heart is full. He pulls you into a passionate kiss, one that can almost convey the depth of feeling you gifted within him. “I’m going to be a father…” That evening was one of pure contentment. The crew yell out in their joy for their crewmate and for you. There is a call for a feast and even Whitebeard laughs out deep and fulfilled; he had always wanted a daughter and grandchildren. The whole night Ace doesn't let go of you in his hold. Kisses planted on your face, hands that caress soft skin, the smile that doesn't leave his face.

It all passes so soon; the days leave too quickly.

The goodbye comes.

You wave to the crew as they board the ship that takes them far across the seas; takes him far away from you. Ace had looked down at you as the waves signalled his departure from your warm embrace. Ace wants desperately to stay by your side, to stay with you forever. Being apart from you was torture but now he thinks it might end him, but you know him better than he knows himself; he will be with you for eternity after he fulfils his dreams upon the sea. "Come home to me." You mutter as he faces you just inches away. He pulls you in for a fervrous kiss and his warmth is all that you know; it is all that holds you together. His hands cradle your waist before he finally parts looking at you with such devotion there can be no doubt of it. "I will return to you [y/n], no matter what, I promise..." He then traces your form gently before planting a kiss on the top of your head. "I'll return to you both." He is then gone beyond the horizon but he watches you until you are too far for the eye to see. Marco watches his eyes turn solemn when they turn away from the direction of you.

It had been many months since then, and Ace missed you so much his heart ached just by the mention of your name. He had meant to come to you so much sooner; now so much time had passed he is almost terrified to see you again. You would surely be angry he had not been there; he had not been there for you. He thinks of the child you bear, how you would've looked swollen, the burdens you would have had to face alone. All because he couldn't let Blackbeard go; he had to hold him accountable for Thatch's death. In the midst of it, he had forgotten the promise he had vowed to keep. He had gotten himself captured and torn from any way to return to you. His pride had become his undoing as he ignored his friends, Whitebeard and everyone around him because he couldn't see reason. Was he so willing to risk leaving his child without a father now, when he knew what it was like to be left wondering and alone? How it was like to have a father not present but lingering; to be told stories of the man that should've been beside him growing up, protecting his mother and protecting himself.

It hurts.

It hurts to be torn between his nature to stay and fight, but it hurts more to know the pain and suffering he may bestow on you; the worry he knows you already bear. He knows you know; news of his capture has spread worldwide. So, in the silence and his stillness, there is finally movement. He moves; one foot forward. Then the other... then the other... Akainu watches eyes widening slightly and betraying surprise. But Ace grasps Luffy's arm tightly urging him forward too. "A-Ace?" The Whitebeard Crew all stare completely in shock, completely wide-eyed and gaping as Ace, their stubborn comrade walks away from a battle; Ace, walking away from an enemy he faced. Tears pour heavily over his cheeks as sharp words leave his mouth at the sight of his crew silent and now still. "What are you doing?! Move! For pops!" They shake themselves of their surprise and run with Ace, they run with Luffy, away from Akainu's burning rage as he witnesses it. They leave the sight of their beloved Captain and father left to deal with the blows as he protects his crew one last time. As they barge themselves to the safety of the open seas, Ace finally realises the depths of the decision he has made. There is no regret but there is also no retribution, but he would seek that out later. As the sight of Marineford disappears within smoke and debris, he lets out a mutter so low not even Luffy heard it from beside him.

"I'm sorry pops."

.....

The room is silent where you sit and you cradle your child against your chest to ease the pain in your heart. You have waited so long; so many months. You have had the unbearable pain of losing your beloved to the clutches of marines; to the clutches of his execution. There was silence in the news that travelled, no one on your island knew of what had happened, but you felt the worst had come true; that you had lost your darling Ace. You are so lost in thoughts of grief you do not hear it at first, but then you do, instincts flaring at the sound of your door opening. As you look up you are frozen in your shock, but he is too.

It's him; it's Ace.

You sit still in the quiet that encapsulates you as you feel the beginning of tears fall from your lash line. Your hands tremble but you are speechless. He moves forward to you, freckled face brimming with heartache, as Marco smiles grimly from your doorway as though in silent confirmation; he is actually here, alive. You stand quickly, your child still in your arms. He moves to you like his life depends on it and you are within his warm embrace as sobs rake your body in relief. "You're home." You're voice is shaking and soft but it is all you need to say. He looks into your eyes and in utter fondness turns to his child in your arms. "I'm home."

[dinarosie]

Re-Reading Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire: Snape’s Moment of Unyielding Bravery

The scene I want to highlight in The Goblet of Fire is one that carries so much weight, and each time I re-read it, the gravity of the moment only increases. Imagine the setting: the hospital wing. It’s packed with people—Cornelius Fudge, Madam Pomfrey, Professor McGonagall, Bill and Molly Weasley, Hermione, Ron, and Harry. All eyes are on Snape as he steps forward, pulls up his sleeve, and reveals the Dark Mark burned into his skin.

“There,” said Snape harshly. “There. The Dark Mark. It is not as clear as it was an hour or so ago, when it burned black, but you can still see it. Every Death Eater had the sign burned into him by the Dark Lord. It was a means of distinguishing one another, and his means of summoning us to him. When he touched the Mark of any Death Eater, we were to Disapparate, and Apparate, instantly, at his side. This Mark has been growing clearer all year. Karkaroff’s too.

Let that sink in. Snape isn’t just showing a Mark; he’s exposing the deepest, darkest secret of his life. He’s standing in front of his students, his colleagues, and—let’s not forget—Cornelius Fudge, the Minister for Magic, and he’s admitting something most people would bury forever.

What makes this even more remarkable is that the choice to do this wasn’t something Dumbledore told him to make. This isn’t part of some grand plan discussed beforehand. Snape makes this decision on his own, in the moment, fully aware of how it will tarnish him in the eyes of others. Why?

Because Snape understands the stakes. Fudge’s denial of Voldemort’s return endangers the entire wizarding world. By exposing the Dark Mark on his arm, Snape hopes to convince Fudge to take Voldemort’s return seriously. His goal is clear: to push the Ministry into taking precautionary measures and preparing the wizarding community for the battle ahead.

And then there’s this haunting line:

“…We both knew he had returned. Karkaroff fears the Dark Lord’s vengeance. He betrayed too many of his fellow Death Eaters to be sure of a welcome back into the fold.”

What Snape doesn’t say, but what we understand, is that he knows he’s facing the exact same fate. When Snape goes back to Voldemort, he knows he’ll be met with pain, torture, and humiliation and even death. Where Karkaroff sees only a way out, Snape sees his duty—a stark contrast that underscores Snape’s resolve.

Here’s what makes this even more powerful: Snape is so determined to convince Fudge that he uses the suffering he knows awaits him as evidence. He stands there, knowing that returning to Voldemort will mean enduring unbearable torture, and he uses that as proof of Voldemort’s return. Snape essentially says, “I know what’s coming for me, and I’m still standing here to tell you the truth.”

Then we reach the next turning point in this scene:

“Severus,” said Dumbledore, turning to Snape, “you know what I must ask you to do. If you are ready . . . if you are prepared . . .”

Look at Dumbledore’s approach here. He’s cautious, almost hesitant. This is a sharp contrast to Half-Blood Prince, where Dumbledore gives Snape direct orders about killing him. Here, Dumbledore knows exactly what he’s asking of Snape: to return to Voldemort, to put himself in unimaginable danger.

And Snape’s response?

“I am.”

That’s it. Two words. No hesitation, no complaint. J.K. Rowling describes him as pale, his cold, dark eyes glittering strangely. Dumbledore, too, is described as watching Snape leave with a trace of apprehension on his face. Both of them know that Snape might not come back. Both of them know he’s walking into the lion’s den. And yet, Snape doesn’t waver.

This moment is a masterclass in bravery, but it also completely dismantles the argument that Snape’s good deeds are purely motivated by guilt over Lily or his promise to Dumbledore.

This scene also shows us that the promise Snape made to Dumbledore after Lily’s death wasn’t just about protecting Harry. It was about choosing a side. Snape made the decision to fight against Voldemort, no matter the cost. From that moment on, he dedicated himself to sabotaging the Dark Lord’s plans, enduring unspeakable pain and danger in the process.

And let’s not overlook this: Snape doesn’t just fight when Harry is in danger. He fights Voldemort at every opportunity because he knows it’s the right thing to do. He does it not because of guilt or obligation, but because his own moral compass demands it.

This scene in The Goblet of Fire encapsulates everything that makes Snape such a complex, fascinating character. It’s raw, vulnerable, and incredibly brave. Snape isn’t perfect—far from it—but this moment proves that he is so much more than the sum of his flaws. He’s a man who chooses to stand and fight, even when it means sacrificing everything.

[dixonsbrat]

── .✦ 𝐈𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐆𝐎, 𝐈’𝐌 𝐆𝐎𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐎𝐎 ┆ 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐥 𝐝𝐢𝐱𝐨𝐧

𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 ; daryl relives the tough choices that were made when he decided to leave the commonwealth.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 ; established relationship, takes place both in france and at the commonwealth. crying. making out. insinuated sex. just a whole lotta angst honestly.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 ; 4.2k .ᐟ

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 ; this is the longest fic i’ve written in forever so enjoy ᡣ𐭩

"have you ever been in love?" sylvie’s question takes daryl by surprise, his attention momentarily pulled away from the road ahead of them as he turns to look at her in the passenger seat. her french accent is thick, though her words and facial expression are soft - like her.

there’s a noticeable shift in his demeanour, his heart panging in his chest as his thoughts drift toward you back home, back at the commonwealth, where an ocean now stood between you and him. there’s a sad look in his eyes, a mixture of pain and guilt and it’s clear that something deeply rooted within him had happened between the two of you.

“why do you look so sad?” sylvie observes him gently. she can sense the weight of his thoughts, the memories he’s carrying. she wants to press him on it, to further dissect the man that had fallen into their lives, but decides to wait for him to speak instead.

daryl doesn’t answer immediately, his gaze fixated on the open stretch of road ahead as his hands tightly grip the wheel. sylvie’s question was simple, straightforward, but for him, it was anything but. the weight of his thoughts bear down on his chest, stirring up a whirlwind of emotions he had spent months trying to bury deep down.

“s’complicated.” his voice is low and gravelly when he does finally answer, though laced with hurt as he clenches his jaw tightly.

“complicated?” sylvie repeats, her voice gentle, yet betraying her curiosity. she’s not pushing, she just wants to understand - understand why that was the word he had chosen to describe whatever it was that was clearly plaguing him.

“mhm…” he grumbles, a slight nod of his head as he refocuses on the road once more.

sylvie senses the deep hurt and longing that lies beneath his stoic exterior, “because you… still love them?”

“... sometimes love ain’t enough.” his voice is harsher than he intends, but he leaves it all the same. he could still hear whispers of your laughter ringing in his ears, and how sweet you sounded when saying his name. if he could turn back time and stop himself from ever leaving the commonwealth - from ever leaving you - he would.

his mind flashes back to the last night he had spent with you, the feeling of you in his arms, soft and close. how you looked at him with those warm eyes full of adoration, full of care, the way no one else had ever looked at him before and he wished he could have held onto that moment a little bit longer, a little bit tighter.

you’re sitting on the floor of your room, laughing, your legs stretched out alongside daryl’s as you both lean against your bed. the night had settled over the commonwealth and though exhaustion tugged at both of your minds, you didn’t want to retire for the night just yet, not when you knew it was your last night together.

“i’m still pissed at you,” you say, though there’s no real anger in your tone, just lighthearted playfulness as your eyes gleam in the soft light of the room. you had a habit of looking at him as if he were the only person in the world - which to you, he was.

he nods, huffing out a quiet laugh, “i know. i know ya are.”

his eyes fall to your body, admiring softly, the way your shirt hangs a little off your left shoulder, showing a hint of your collarbone, and his fingers slowly reach to trail down the exposed skin. you notice the way his eyes roam your body, and for a moment, the mood of playful banter shifts into something warmer, something heavier. the air feels a little more charged between you both, the feeling of wanting, not knowing when you’ll get the chance to hold and touch one another like this again.

daryl tries to ignore the way his stomach twists at the memory, the way his mind drifts back to the last time he had touched you. he knows he shouldn’t but the memories are too vivid, he can practically hear your soft gasps in his ear, hear the way you say his name, all breathy and full of love. he can’t help but let himself get carried away in the distant memories of you and the love you shared together.

you bite your lower lip a little, drawing his eyes towards your mouth, and he feels a pang in his chest at the action. you see the way his jaw tenses, how he looks at you with his steely blue eyes, and know he’s fighting against his thoughts, trying to suppress the desire that was clearly building inside of him.

you feel that familiar twist of desire in your own stomach, that familiar need for him building with every passing second. you shift towards him slightly, your leg brushing against his, “...what am i going to do without you?”

he’s struggling, holding back, but he can’t resist the way you move towards him, the way your thigh brushes against his. he brings a calloused hand up to cup your face, thumb tracing over the skin of your cheek. his eyes flicker to your lips again, his heart beating faster, the pull towards you becoming stronger. the desire to hold you, to keep you close, to never let you go, is overwhelming.

he swallows thickly, “yer gonna be fine. always are.”

there’s a pause as you shake your head, taking in a deep breath as tears dare to prick at your eyes, “not this time.”

the feeling of helplessness washes over him as he sees the emotions play across your face. his hand moved to your jaw, cupping it gently before tipping it slightly so you’re looking directly at him. your eyes are watery, pained, and it kills him to see it, to know he’s the cause of it. his thumb brushed over your cheek, wiping away a lone tear that had slipped down it.

“don’t cry,” he tries to reassure you, voice gruff and low, but somewhat softer for him.

“how can i not when you’re leaving me…” you exhale, eyes almost fully glazed over as your mind spirals with the dread of what comes in the morning.

he doesn’t know how to make you feel better, how to soothe away that fear that’s plaguing you. daryl has always had a tendency for keeping people at arms-length, to not let them get too close in case they leave, in case they get hurt. but with you it’s always been different. you’re different. you’ve seen deeper into him than anyone else ever has and despite that, you stayed.

you chose him.

your eyes flitter across his features, as though to be committing every small detail to memory. every crease, every freckle or mole, even the grey hairs that were poking through the scruff on his chin, you wanted to remember it all as though it was the last time you’d ever see him.

he can tell you’re scared, unsure, trying to memorise him, like you believe that this might be the last time you see him. he can feel the shakiness of your body, the warm tears that fall from your eyes, your soft forehead pressed against his. there was nothing more that he wanted than to be able to tell you where he was going and how long he was going to be gone, but most importantly that he would be back.

you move your hands up to rest around his neck, pulling him as close as humanly possible, your lips only grazing his before you eventually close the space between you. it’s soft and gentle, the way your lips move together, your tongues lightly dancing, but the need for one another quickly takes over. transpiring into a longing of want and need to be even closer. his hands grip your hips, holding onto you tightly like he’d never let you go.

“i love you,” you breathe the words as you try to regain your breath but all daryl can see is the mixture of love and sadness in your eyes.

it wasn’t the first time you had said it to him, or the second or third, you made sure to say it to him as much as he would allow you to, but no matter what, it always felt like the first time. he buried his head in the crook of your neck, lips grazing over the sensitive skin there as he breathes you in. he can feel the way your body trembles, the way you cling to him, afraid to let him go.

“i love you too,” he mumbles against your skin, the words barely audible, like a secret you both already knew but didn’t want to admit aloud.

“who was it not enough for — you or them?” sylvie’s question rips him from his thoughts, hitting him deep in the chest once again.

daryl exhales heavily, his fingers tensing around the steering wheel once more. “i don’t… me,” he answers honestly, his voice almost a whisper. the words hang in the air, heavy and loaded with the weight of his decision.

sylvie sees the turmoil and decides to change the topic slightly, deciding to approach the matter from a different angle, “will you tell me about them?” her voice is low and soothing, drawing him slowly out of his dark thoughts.

he wants to scream ‘no’, to shut it down immediately, knowing that the act of talking about you, even though it would be painful, felt like the only way to keep you close. he wasn’t one for sharing, for letting others inside his mind, but the idea of telling someone about you, not knowing if he’d get another opportunity to do so… it hurt more than the idea of reliving the memories he had shared with you and the impact you had made in his life.

he’s quiet for a moment, swallowing the growing lump in his throat before he opens his mouth, “she was… she was beautiful. caring. strong. stubborn, real stubborn.”

he lets out a soft chuckle at the thought of the numerous times you’d made his life a living hell over the years, yet he’d secretly loved the way you’d never take his bullshit and would always put him in his place. sylvie can’t help but admire the way he lights up as he speaks about you, the tension in his shoulders and jaw easing at her gentle prodding.

“she had this… way about her, ya know?” his voice is still gruff as he speaks, yet there’s a softness to his tone now, an undeniable fondness. “she could hit a target in the bullseye without battin’ an eye but then trip up on her own feet a few seconds later.” he continues, a hint of awe in his voice now as he describes you, like he’s talking about some mythical being. he finds himself once again getting lost in his thought of you, the corner of his mouth lifting in a sad smile.

“she knew how to make me feel…safe. usually it was my job to make others feel that way, to be the protector, but not her, she always wanted to take care of me. like she’s got this hold on me that i can’t shake, and i don’t… i don’t know if i ever will…”

“you still love her… that’s why.” sylvie points out after seeing the way he had spoken about you. it was the first time he had indulged anyone in a conversation about himself, about his life before france, about you. you were clearly important to him, otherwise he wouldn’t have let himself get so caught away in talking about you, and he can’t help but feel surprised at himself for doing so.

“ain’t that simple,” he responds, the sharpness returning to his voice as his walls go up once more because he knows that he can’t deny the truth. he did still love you, of course he did, that was never in question. but he also can’t ignore the complex factors that had torn the two of you apart, or that it was entirely his fault.

sylvie pauses for a moment, before saying, “perhaps, but perhaps it also shouldn’t have to be so hard.”

daryl lets out a bitter scoff, his jaw clenching tighter and he turns his attention back to the road ahead. he doesn’t respond to her this time, his mind preoccupied with the tangled mess of his emotions. he knows that things should be simple. hell, they had been simple at one point. but life wasn’t a fairytale, especially in the world you now lived in and it was his job to keep you safe, whether you liked it or not.

you watch as daryl pulls his backpack tighter around his shoulders and continues walking as if you hadn’t said a word, as if you hadn’t just told him you wanted to go with him, wherever it was that he may end up. “i said i want to come with you,” you repeat louder now, your words echoing back to you as your heart thrums so loudly in your chest that you were sure it was going to explode.

daryl stills at your voice now, his shoulders tensing at your words. he had heard you the first time but hoped that you would drop it after seeing him continue on his way, but, of course, things could never be that simple. he can practically feel the desperation in your voice, the pleading tone making his heart ache, but he stubbornly resists the urge to turn around and look at you.

“...no.” he responds without any hesitation, any trepidation, his voice firm as he allows no room for you to argue.

“no?” your voice is a soft murmur as you move to stand in front of him. your gaze full of confusion and hurt, your heart still racing in your chest. “what do you mean ‘no’?”

his blue eyes finally meet yours, the usual warm depth within them now cold and guarded. he stands there, jaw clenched, looking down at you with a mixture of stoicism and stubbornness as he fights off the urge to reach out and smooth away the hurt he sees in your eyes.

“i mean ‘no’,” he repeats, his mind set. “ya ain’t comin’ with me.”

your heart sinks for the second time, the pain and confusion swirling inside you like a storm. you swallow hard, your eyes stinging with the onset of tears once more. “that’s it? just ‘no’? you’re not even going to consider it?”

“there ain’t nothin’ to consider,” his jaw clenched once more and he sighs heavily, as if the question pained him just as much as it did you. he brushes a hand through his hair, tucking it behind his ear as he bites down on his lower lip. “i can’t have ya gettin’ hurt.” his voice is quieter this time.

you stand there frozen as you watch daryl continue on to where his motorcycle was parked by the front gates, unable to comprehend the way in which he was acting. as if you hadn’t just spent the entire night making yourself sick over whether or not you wanted to go with him or stay behind at the commonwealth, all while he was sound asleep beside you.

daryl’s heart is heavy as he walks away from you, every step feeling like he was dragging anvils behind him, but he forces himself to remain stern, to stay strong in his decision. he was doing this for you. he had to.

you follow behind him, watching as he swings himself onto the bike and settles into the leather seat, “i know how to handle myself, daryl – you of all people know that.”

“that ain’t the point,” he snaps back.

“then what is the point?” you throw your arms up and let them fall back to your sides, your emotions beginning to get the better of you once again, but daryl wasn’t having any of it. “daryl, please… i want to come with you,” your voice cracks and you take a deep breath in trying to keep yourself in check but only failing.

the sound of your voice cracking breaks him, the pain in your words physically stabbing at his heart. but he couldn’t back down now, not after already making up his mind. he’d never be able to live with himself if something were to happen to you and all because he agreed to let you go with him. he had already almost lost you a handful of times, he didn’t know how much luck he had left and he sure as hell wasn’t ready to find out.

he looks away from you, avoiding your eyes and shakes his head, “no.”

you reach forward to place your hands on top of his as they lay on the handlebars of the motorcycle, “i can’t… i can’t be away from you. not again. not even if that means giving up our home and everything else we were building here. i want to be with you… please.” you take in a shaky breath as silent tears begin to roll down your cheeks.

daryl’s hands clench beneath yours, the gesture betraying his internal struggle. he can feel the weight of your words, the weight of your pain and your love for him. his heart aches, conflicting with the resolute part of him that was telling him to just start the motorcycle and ride off before he eventually gave in.

he lets out a heavy sigh, his expression conflicted and pained as he finally turns to look back up at you. seeing the tears streaming down your face breaks something in him.

“i’m… i’m doin’ this for your own good,” he says, the words sounding hollow even to his ears.

you shake your head, clamping your teeth down on your bottom lip in an attempt to stop the sobs that were clawing their way up your throat, but there’s no use, “that’s bullshit.”

he flinches at your words, his defences crumbling under the weight of your accusation. he knows you know him too well, that you can see through his excuses and facades. he takes in your tear-stricken face, the sight like a dagger to his heart. he can see the desperation in your eyes, and it’s tearing him apart.

his own eyes start to sting, his nose burning with the beginnings of tears. he opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out. no words could explain how he was feeling in that moment, the conflicting thoughts and emotions raging within his mind and his heart.

he can’t take it anymore, the sight of you crying, the weight of his own guilt, the pain of his decision. he lets go of the handlebars, his hands coming up to cup your face, his fingers wiping away the tears rolling down your cheeks. he looks deep into your eyes, torn between loving you and trying to protect you.

he presses a kiss to your forehead. it’s soft and gentle, full of worry, but painful. he just wanted to do the right thing by you. he didn’t want you out there with him, he needed you here. he needed you safe. you would be safe with the others, and he knew carol would look after you.

he holds the kiss against your forehead a moment longer, his eyes squeezed shut as he tries to memorise the feel of your skin against his lips. when he pulls away, his eyes slowly open, looking at you with a thousand words left unsaid. he wants so desperately to just hold you, to keep you safe in his arms forever. but he can’t.

“so that’s it then?” you ask, your voice so small through your tears.

“m’sorry…” is all he manages, the words tasting like poison, but his mind and heart refuse to budge. “i just… i have to do this alone.”

“you really expect me to just go about my days knowing that you’re out there all alone? constantly worrying if you’re okay, or if you’re even alive?” your throat was burning with emotion, your eyes stinging as you try to maintain it. the thought alone of something happening to daryl was making you feel sick.

each of your words feels like a knife to his heart and he feels like a fool for being the one to cause you this much pain. he wants to tell you that he’ll be fine, that he’s strong and can keep himself safe… but the truth of the matter was, he had no idea what was going to happen the second he stepped outside the gates of the commonwealth, or if he would be okay. he was all too well aware of the fact that the thought of leaving you behind was as terrifying to him as it was to you.

“i’ll be fine,” he says anyway, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on your cheeks. he wanted to give you some sort of reassurance, no matter how small or how little he actually believed it. he just needed you to understand that this was something he needed to do and that he knew how to look after himself well enough, but you see right through him.

“we both know you can’t promise that,” you whisper as you pull out of his touch. “not really.”

daryl can feel the distance between the two of you growing already with each second that passes, his heart aching and his head pounding all at once. your words only add to the guilt and the pain that he’s already feeling, knowing that he can’t give you the real reassurance you need. he swallows hard, trying to keep his own emotions in check.

deep down he knows he can’t promise something, that at that moment, he wasn’t even sure of himself. he could see the questions, the realisation, the hurt swirling in your eyes as you stared up at him, silently pleading for him to contradict you, to tell you that it wasn’t true.

“i can try,” is all he can muster and your heart feels like it’s going to collapse in on itself. you knew daryl better than anyone, better than he knew himself, and you knew he was being sincere, but that didn’t stop the doubts and insecurities you had about him leaving. nothing would ever make you feel better about it.

“please…” he suddenly grabs your hands again, holding them tight in his own, not wanting to lose the feeling of your touch, of your skin against his. he could already feel it slipping away – feel you slipping away – and the distance growing further between the two of you. “please… just… trust me,” he practically pleads, his voice soft and his gaze filled with helplessness.

you look down at your hands wrapped in daryl’s, the touch feeling so familiar yet so foreign at the same time. it just serves as a painful reminder that he really was leaving. your own features are shaky as all you can do is accept his words with a nod, another tear rolling down your cheek as you press your forehead to his.

his eyes flutter shut as you rest your head against his, each tear that you shed causing the ache in his chest to grow even more. he can feel the resignation in your gestures, the way you submit to his decision, even if deep down you didn’t agree with it.

he savoured the feelings of you against him, eyes closed, his hands holding onto yours as if he were clutching on to the last shred of you that he had. he wanted to keep you here, in this bubble, forever if he could. and in that moment, he swears to himself that no matter how long he’s gone for, or how far away he ends up, he was going to come back for you, no matter how hard or how much time it took.

and he was going to keep that promise.

[ohdeerfully]

Spoilers ahead for the final episode!

Imagine reader being a healer for others but is cursed to not being able to heal themselves.

Like during the final battle, their skills are heavily relied on while they also fight along side them. Afterwards they rush to find their lover Alastor to heal the wound on his abdomen. Poor thing was so worried about healing him that they forgot about patching up themselves.

hello everybody im alive........... hello hold your applause /j

i got two very similar requests so i combined them into one! hope thats alright with the two anons! hugs and kisses

Stitches

alastor x reader (fluff) TW: nothing serious, just some briefly graphic(ish) descriptions of violence/gore, reader referred to as female but doesnt influence plot

join my discord!

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It was supposed to be “no big deal” for him; that’s what he had promised you. You worried, of course, but knew better than to pester and beg for him to change his mind. Plus… of all demons to hold back Adam, Alastor seemed like the most capable. You had to trust him. He promised.

You were in the midst of slaying an Exterminator of your own, cutting it down with a sword lined in angelic steel, but you couldn’t help that your train of thought kept returning to the Radio Demon, who was currently on the roof of the Hotel maintaining a forcefield that prevented more angels from joining the battle.

You allowed your eyes to glimpse up towards said roof even though you knew it’d be impossible to see him from your position on the ground. You had looked just in time, however, to see the shield that surrounded the battleground begin to dissolve, an opening blooming around the figure of Adam. 

A sickly cold feeling of dread churned down your spine and into your stomach, but you forced yourself to stay focused. Alastor would be fine, surely. It’s not like he said it was an invincible shield. You had other things to worry about, anyway, when you realized a wasp-like swarm of Exterminators had made their way in from the dissolving forcefield, their glittering white wings and shining angelic weapons molding together in a blur.

You fought along a small group of demons from Cannibal Town, providing aid and healing when possible. It seemed to go on for hours; stab an angel, tear one away from a companion, heal, stab, save, heal… it somehow began to feel monotonous and repetitive. Your whole body stung, littered with wounds ranging in extremity, but you couldn’t stop. Not if you were going to win this thing.

That monotony was broken when the chaos halted for a brief moment—not even a second. You had seen Charlie looking up in… fear? Shock? So, you looked, and your breath hitched. It took you a moment to process.

Why was Adam flying above, looming, grinning, analyzing… Why, when Alastor was supposed to be keeping him occupied? The immediate answer that came to mind brought back that sickening feeling from earlier, but increased a hundredfold. It seemed that Charlie also had a similar idea.

You couldn’t ignore the feeling this time and, against your better judgment, took off towards the crumbling Hotel, abandoning your position as healer. They could wait, honestly. The pounding in your ears and anxiety in your body clouded the sensation of angelic spears grazing past you, filling your already burdened body with more gashes.

You were halted by a powerful beat of wings, wind pushing you backwards onto your back. You scrambled into a sitting position, leaning on your arms. All of the aching, stinging pain from the night seemed to rush in all at once because of the interruption, and you could barely keep your eyes steady on the man in front of you.

The first man, at that—standing all too high-and-mighty above you, a twisted grin curling up his mask. 

“Hey, bitch,” He said almost casually, grabbing you by the hair and lifting you up to be eye level with him. You stifled a pained cry at the sensation, though your eyes filled with tears, betraying both your fear and pain. You hated yourself for looking so weak in front of Adam, but you were almost too exhausted to mask it.

“The fuck did you do to Alastor?” You talked through a mouthful of blood. You spat some out in his face, to which the grip on your head tightened but he seemed otherwise unbothered. You did see a glint of madness in his eyes, though.

“So you’re that fine babe of his?” Adam mocked, looking up and down tastelessly. You didn’t expect much more from the ‘dickmaster’ but you couldn’t help but feel disgusted. “Satan’s daughter told me all about you when she was trying to tell me you gross fucks could be redeemed.”

He started rambling out a multitude of insults and curses. It seemed fitting, you thought, that the stuck-up first man would be too full of himself to keep his guard up and just start going off on a tangent about how cool and awesome he is versus how gross and weak your kind is.

“I mean, the fuck? You all sucked ass at being alive, so why the shit would we let you up into heaven? And, quite frankly, too fucking ugly to live up th—” He choked on the last few words he had, his eyes widening in shock and pain. He dropped you to the ground.

During his rant you had managed to use your heel to kick up a stray spear from beneath you. His tirade had given you enough time to balance the weapon between your feet, aim, and jam it forward into his stomach. The robe he wore darkened, glistening gold seeping into the fabric and from the hole you punctured into him.

“You–” He spat, hovering his shaking hands around the impaled spear. He gingerly pressed a hand against the wound, lifting his bloody palm to his face to look at the mess. He looked up, down, up again, and took a quivering step towards you. There were a million expressions in his eyes all at once; rage, fear, pain, disgust… 

“You fucking bitch,” He took another step, reached a hand out towards you. “You can’t kill me! Nobody can kill Adam! You’re just a worthless, sick, good-for-nothing sinner that couldn’t—fuck!” He stumbled and fell forward, and you jerked away as his fist nearly closed around the hem of your shirt. As much as you hated the guy and wanted him dead, you still cringed at the sight of him falling onto the spear and impaling it completely through his body.

You heard a distant cry of his name, but you didn’t hesitate to see who it was. You took off into the hotel, albeit slowed by a painful limp, and made your way up the stairs towards the radio tower.

There was an ominous feeling in the air as you ascended the ladder into the nearly demolished tower, slowly opening the hatch into the room. An intense, static-y feeling smothered your senses, hair raising and skin prickling at the sensation. You ignored the uncomfortable feeling and peered around the dark room. 

Claw marks and a trail of blood caught your attention, leading your eyes towards a corner where the demon you wanted to see most sat against. He had been wordlessly watching you with glowing red eyes since you entered.

“Al,” You said almost breathlessly as you rushed forward, ignoring the way your leg shot pain throughout your body in protest. You fell gracelessly to your knees in front of him.

“I don’t want you here,” He said rather plainly, a hiss in his voice as he spoke through his teeth and a grimace of a smile. You ignored the comment, eyes traveling over his body before settling on his palm, which was pressed against his abdomen. There was a still-growing patch of dark blood seeping through his shirt and between his fingers.

You reached your hand out towards him, flinched to a halt for a moment when his claws tightened around the fabric of his shirt, but continued. He made no move otherwise to stop you, but you could feel the tension in the air growing as the static ambience got louder.

“I can take care of myself,” He said, his other hand suddenly snatching your wrist. His grin widened, but his eyes narrowed. You frowned at him.

“Yeah, but it’d be a lot easier for me to just fix you now,” You retorted, trying to jerk your hand away from his grip. He didn’t yield. “If you stop being so damn stubborn.”

“I’ve dealt with much worse, my dear,” He continued to convince you to leave him alone, his voice smooth with that manipulatively suave voice he put on sometimes. Unluckily for him, though, you were just as stubborn as him.

“But I’m here this time to help you,” You finally managed to free your wrist from him, your sharp expression unwavering from his own, which seemed equally aggravated. Maybe he was too weak to actually stop you, or maybe he actually did want your help and just wouldn’t admit it, but he didn’t stop you from lifting his bloodied hand from his wound.

You pursed your lips at the grizzly sight, but said nothing. You ignored the stinging smell of blood that flooded your nose. You hovered your hands over the wound, channeling the energy in your body that granted you the ability to rapidly heal others. A faint light flowed from your palm and into the gash across Alastor’s torso, forming glowing stitches that weaved throughout the damaged skin.

Periodically glancing up at his face as you worked, you watched for any sign that told you to stop, but it never came. He stayed silent the whole time, which was… rare, from him. You would never admit this out loud, but Alastor seemed almost… pitiful, in this silent, weakened state. The Radio Demon himself, reduced to a bloodied, passive husk of himself.

After healing so many demons during the battle outside, you had spent so much energy. You were already so weak and exhausted, but you pushed yourself to force just a bit more—

“There,” With a weak sigh, you sat back, admiring your own handiwork. Even though it was magic, it did take some mental ability to know how to use your power. “Was that so hard?” You chided him jokingly.

He gingerly drug a clawed finger down the stitches, analyzing it for himself. 

“I have to admit,” He began, looking up at you. “It would have been nice to have you in my early years as— dear?”

You barely heard what he was saying as all of your senses seemed to get foggy all at once. Your vision blurred and speckled, you ears felt muffled, and you swayed with lightheadedness. You pressed a hand to your face, trying to steady your breath.

“I’m good,” Your voice came out in a quiver. “I think I just—”

You don’t necessarily even remember fainting, but reason that you must have as you stared at the ceiling above you. You woke up ten minutes ago, and spent the time piecing together everything that happened. How much time has passed since then? A couple hours? Days? It was hard to say. Though, you thought as you looked around. The hotel looks… damn good all things considered. 

The door creaked open and your ears perked at the sound of a familiar voice humming some tune that you couldn’t recognize. Considering the atmosphere wasn’t tense, you actually welcomed the prickling, static-like sensation that Alastor’s presence brought. 

“Ah, the sleeping beauty awakes!” He announced pleasantly, setting a plate rattling with two neat little glasses of warm liquid on the bedside table. You eyed them and quirked your eyebrow.

“Seems you were ready for it,” You said, commenting on the fact that he brought two cups.

“Well, what kind of man would I be if I wasn’t au fait to my darling’s status?” He explained, clasping his hands behind his back and leaning over you. He would never admit that he brought up two cups every time he checked on you just in case. 

His overall demeanor seemed appropriately confident and indifferent, but his eyes held an uncharacteristic look of tenderness and worry as he looked over you, analyzing your condition. He sat at the edge of the bed, picking that plate up again and offering you a cup.

You sat up against the headboard and took it with a light smile, warming your hands on the smooth surface. You enjoyed the aroma of the tea, and you realized it was your favorite. How sweet.

The room was silent, save for the quiet sound of a radio that seemed to just… radiate from him… but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Now that you were sitting up, you took the chance to look down and over yourself. Bandages were wrapped tightly over your arms, chest, stomach, legs… basically everywhere. You were suddenly all too aware of the dull ache that afflicted your entire body.

When you looked up, you noticed Alastor had been looking at you rather intensely. His expression was weird and unreadable. You tightened your lips awkwardly at the strangely passionate look in his eyes, looking into random directions to try to ignore it. You tried to concentrate on taking another sip from the cup in your hand, bu, to your dismay, it was already empty. You sat it down on the plate.

“How’s my stitchwork holding up?” In an attempt to dissipate your own awkwardness, you reached towards his abdomen. He caught your hand gently, directing it away from himself. But he didn’t let go.

“No doctor in all of Hell could have done better,” He complimented. He still had a hint of that weird expression. “If only you could fix yourself up the same. Fortunately I have some experience from my time alive…” He trailed off.

You couldn’t contain yourself anymore, jumping forward and tightening your arms around his neck. The static in the air sharpened for a brief second, matching the tenseness in his body, but slowly returned to a normal frequency. After a few more seconds, you felt him slide his own arms around your waist, pressing you against himself.

“You scared the fuckin’ shit out of me,” You said, voice muffled by his coat. “I thought Adam killed you. I thought I was going to find your body buried under the rubble.”

“So you avenged me by killing Adam yourself? I appreciate it,” He remarked lightly, a slight chuckle rumbling from his chest. His voice was low, breath tickling your ear as he held you with a feather-light but somehow still firm grip. 

Alastor was quiet for another moment, and you realized the static in the air had completely dissipated. You also realized the pressure of his arms wrapped around you was getting increasingly tighter.

“You worried me as well,” He said finally. “You were out like a hibernating bear for days. You worried everyone.” You pulled your head out from the crook of his neck and met his gaze.

“Can’t a gal get her beauty rest?” You joked softly, bumping your shoulder against him playfully. He swayed for a moment at the contact, but the eye contact never broke. Wait, was he getting closer? 

Instinctually your eyes closed, and the briefest kiss was placed on your lips, then your nose, then your forehead. Before you could open your eyes, Alastor placed his hand on your head and pressed you back against his chest. He then began rubbing his hand gently on your back in a soothing motion.

Despite being in bed for apparently days, you still felt tired. You sank into him as his claws drug gentle shapes against your skin, careful to avoid bandaged spots. He hummed a quiet tune, and you noticed his microphone of a cane, which was laying against the bedside table, emitted an accompanying song.

“Maybe redemption isn’t all that,” You commented with a sigh, lazily picking at the hem of Alastor’s collar.

“Hmm?” He prompted you to continue.

“Is Hell really so bad if you’re with your favorite soul?” It felt corny to say, but you couldn't really find a better way to phrase it. Plus, you couldn't take this rare moment of tenderness for granted.

His hand paused for a moment, and he gently squeezed your arm in response. You felt him press another light kiss to the top of your head.

“I know, now,” He finally replied. “Just the feeling.”

[ode2rin]

Was it because he sometimes fail to call you due to opposite time zones? Or was it the frequent periods when he wasn't at home? Had the distance finally played its game in your relationship?

Out of all people, you were the last person Sae would have expected to betray him like this.

Yet, it happened. You blindsided him.

“I’m just three episodes ahead! Stop being so dramatic!” you protested from the other end of the couch.

Yes, that's the grave betrayal you've committed. Was it worth fighting over? Maybe. Was he being petty? Of course not. The act itself could be the equivalent of your partner lying to you. A literal crime, if he can say so himself. 

“We were supposed to watch it together,” he frowned, his eyes fixed on the Netflix series playing on the TV with its soft glow highlighting the contours of Sae's face as he continued to express his mock indignation. “Together.” He stressed every syllable, dragging out the pettiness, much to your annoyance.

And there you both were, caught in the crossfire of a relationship dispute sparked by the unspoken rules of synchronized streaming. 

Were there any rules in the first place? Well, according to Sae's book, there certainly were. Because, much to his denial, Sae loves your relationship’s traditions. One of them being this – the two of you wrapped in thick blankets with you curling up to his side and his hands fiddling with yours while you both spend the night away watching a show you mentioned in your call with him when he was away. 

Now, however, the two of you (mainly him) are faced with the big question of how to enjoy said tradition when you're already three episodes ahead.

“I apologized already,” you point out.

“You said sorry after saying oh yeah, I kind of watched it and shrugged. Talk about sincerity.” 

You bite back your laughter at his words. You knew your boyfriend had a great tendency to be dramatic, but he surprises you every time he pulls out a fit like this one. 

“And look, you’re even laughing.” he glares at you. “You find it so funny that you broke your promise to watch it with me, is that it?”

“Oh, come on! How did you even know that I already watched it?! I was acting pretty well!” you exclaimed at him while inching closer, trying to get close to where he’s seated. 

Five minutes before this whole theatrics, Sae was sitting close to you. However, after realizing your betrayal, the sheer spite in him compelled him to retreat to the opposite end of the couch, far from your lying ass.

“Your acting skills are shit,” he tells you before rolling his eyes again.

It was a lie. He almost couldn’t tell except after one passing comical scene of the show.

Sae has developed a habit of looking at you whenever there’s a scene he thinks you would find remotely funny, no matter how ridiculous the said scene might be for him. At every joke and witty banter, he would turn to you for your own laugh.

You never caught on to this habit, and Sae would rather feed on those horrendous french fries than tell you how he seeks the way you throw your head back, and how your eyes momentarily shut from laughing because the sight spreads an indefinable warmth in his chest and how the sound fills every quiet corner of his once empty space. 

So imagine his surprise when you weren’t laughing. You were smiling – yes, but it wasn’t a laugh he seeks.

Sae was on the verge of turning his head again after hearing a sigh escape your lips. You’re sighing? And it was deep too, like it was telling him you’re getting sick of it. The absolute nerve.

“Did you just sigh–”

But before Sae could finish his sentence, your arms gracefully snaked around his torso, enveloping him in that comforting back hug you always bestowed upon him.

“I said I’m sorry,” you whispered against his shoulder blades, your right cheek caressing his back as you planted a feather-light kiss in that spot. You saw him momentarily close his eyes at your touch, making you smile secretly in triumph. 

You’ve loved this man long enough to memorize how to soften his rough edges.

“I was bored to my wits’ end last week, I couldn’t help it but check it out,” you added, your voice carrying a persuasive tone.

Last week. He was supposed to be home by that time. If he was, the two of you would be comfortably cuddling on this very same couch. But some lukewarm fool managing the team decided to extend his misery in Spain for another week.

“I don’t like that look.” 

His thoughts were cut off by the sound of your stern voice. Unbeknownst to Sae’s preoccupied self, you’ve been staring at his face far longer than a minute to notice his miniscule change of expression when you mentioned last week. Turning to his right shoulder where you were, he raised an eyebrow in question.

“I know you. Spit it out,” you demanded, a knowing glint in your eyes.

And truth be told, you do know him. You were right. For a moment, his thoughts lingered on how much easier it would be to have more nights of just you and him if he wasn't away all the time.

But he couldn’t tell you that, not just yet. Maybe when the timing finally called for his proposition. “I’m sorry my stay got extended,” is what he said instead, hoping to convey what he couldn’t put into words.

“You know I don’t mind, besides, I understand.”

“I know.”

Sensing an unspoken ‘but...’ in his words, you looked up to him, meeting his perceptive teal eyes. He didn’t need to say anything more. You knew him, after all.

To lighten the mood, you decided to test your luck by teasing him. “Oh, my big dramatic baby,” you cooed.

“I’m not a damn baby,” he snorted, beginning to squirm out of your embrace as if to prove a point without letting his ears betray him by turning red.

“Shh, you are. Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone else. I wouldn’t dare sabotage the Japan prodigy’s aloof badass rep to shit.”

You saw his mouth twitched, holding back his own amusement. God, even after all of those tender affections from you, this guy is still trying to be petty as hell.

“I don’t have an aloof badass reputation.”

“Yeah, because what you are is a dramatic spiteful boyfriend who thrives on being petty.”

“You’re really making it hard to forgive you, y/n.”

“Forgive me already!” You gaped at him, “And you say I’m the dramatic one in this relationship!”

Sae, like the rude person he is, ignored your whines, reaching for the remote to turn the show to the fourth episode. He then carefully placed you in his lap, turning you to face the TV, your back now pressing against his chest. As you watched everything he did in bewilderment, you turned to him, “but you won’t enjoy the story if we start on the fourth episode.”

True, but he preferred it when you were the one enjoying. “I’ll ask you questions along the way, and you can tell me about it,” he reassured you before pressing a kiss to your hair.

Exactly as he anticipated, your excitement to catch him up on the last three episodes was palpable. 

The living room transformed into a sanctuary of your laughter as you animatedly narrated each event that happened. He could barely understand the fourth one with all of your extra comments and snarky remarks on the characters that he doubts is even a part of the actual plot. The night danced away in the soothing rhythm of your voice and the murmur of a TV show, until your breaths finally eased into the cadence of sleep.

Silently, Sae turned off the TV, reveling in the tranquility of the room as he gathered you in his arms to head into your shared bedroom. Gently placing your slumbering form on your side of the bed, he settled beside you and draped the blanket over the two of you. Pulling you close, he nestled your head against his chest, one arm securing you at the waist.

But before sleep could fully claim his senses, he heard you mumbling.

“Sae?” 

Responding with a gentle hum, he felt your movements, your hands exploring the contours of his back as if tracing invisible lines and circles.

“About earlier,” you start, your voice barely above a whisper, “I’m not going anywhere. I'll be here, waiting for you to get home.”

His eyes opened, the drowsiness dissipating in the wake of your words, replaced by your warmth all over his body next to yours.

“So, it’s okay,” you continued, your words a tender caress against his collarbones, “We have plenty of time for movie nights and catching up on shows.”

Silence embraced you both, the room a canvas painted in the soft strokes of your steady breaths and the gentle thud of his heartbeat. Sae didn’t verbally respond to your assurance. Instead, you felt him pressed a soft kiss to the crown of your head and his arm around your waist tightening its hold.

He didn’t say anything, but his silence and his embrace was loud enough for you to know everything he wanted to say.

Of course, you both had time— a wealth of moments to spend more nights like this. He’ll make sure of it. After all, he looks forward to spending his days off in the tranquility of your presence. No matter how mundane it could get — as long as it’s with you.

note. it's been a while since i wrote this man.. i still cannot stand him and his petty ass by the way.

[perfectsunlight]

[21] ALL THESE YEARS

warnings: estranged familiarity, reunion discomfort, mentions of absent parenting

when jieun said she couldn’t make it to paris because she got sick, ivory felt as if she was going to explode. now, with her grandmother out of the picture, she was going to be alone with her mother for the first time in her life. the thought made her stomach churn.

the idol wasn’t sure how to feel either. the idea of spending time alone with jane was something she had longed for, but now that it was actually happening, she felt unprepared. 

jennie’s home was more of a showpiece, not the kind of place where she imagined raising a child.

as she walked up the driveway, ivory clutched her suitcase tightly, willing herself not to throw up from the nausea. the house loomed ahead, its sleek modernity a stark contrast to the cozy, lived-in comfort of her grandmother’s home. she could see the large windows, the clean lines, and the intimidating scale of the place. it was beautiful but cold, and it made jane feel even more out of place.

when she reached the front door, she hesitated for a moment before ringing the bell. the sound echoed through the empty space, magnifying her sense of isolation. after a few moments, jennie appeared, her face lighting up with a forced smile as she opened the door.

“hi, valentine,” jennie smiled, her voice tinged with nervousness. she had practiced that greeting for almost an hour beforehand. “come on in. i hope you didn’t have too much trouble finding the place.”

the younger girl managed a weak smile, her throat tight. “it was fine,” she said, stepping inside and dragging her suitcase with her. she glanced around at the immaculate interior, feeling a sense of discomfort. 

everything was so pristine, so perfectly arranged, and she felt like an intruder in this seemingly perfect world that her mother had built for herself.

the blackpink idol watched her daughter with a mixture of concern and helplessness. she had hoped for a smoother transition, but the anxiety written on jane’s face was obvious to her, even if her daughter didn’t know it.

after all, she was still her mother, and jennie could see the strain in jane’s posture and the uncertainty in her eyes.

“let me help you with your things,” the older woman offered, moving to grab the suitcase’s handle. “thank you,” jane replied softly, minding her manners and trying to steady her trembling hands. she followed jennie down the hallway, the silence between them heavy and almost oppressive. the house felt enormous, every room more intimidating than the last. 

it was clear that jennie had never intended for jane to come live with her here, and the reality of that unspoken truth was becoming increasingly apparent.

the atmosphere was thick with the awkwardness of two people who knew they were supposed to be close, but didn’t quite know how to be. it was spacious, tastefully decorated, and almost painfully neat—all those possible due to her absence.

there was no way the house would have been this clean if she had grown up here.

as they walked through her mother’s immaculate home, the silence between them grew heavier with each step. the stark contrast between this cold, polished space and the cozy, lived-in warmth of her grandmother’s house made jane feel even more out of place. 

she couldn’t help but feel like she didn’t belong here.

jennie, on the other hand, was painfully aware of the tension hanging between them. she glanced at jane, hoping to catch some sign that her daughter was okay, but jane’s face was a blank slate, betraying nothing of what she might be feeling. 

the distance between them felt almost insurmountable. thankfully, someone special was waiting for ivory just around the corner.

the little pomeranian bounded towards jennie, his tiny legs moving with enthusiastic energy. despite the chaos of the day, kuma’s presence was a welcome burst of normalcy. he bolted past his owner and ran straight to the younger version of her.

kuma barked excitedly, his tail wagging furiously as he reached ivory. she crouched down, arms open, and kuma leaped into her embrace, his fur soft and warm against her skin. the familiar smell of him, mixed with the faint trace of his shampoo, almost brought tears to her eyes.

“kuma!” she exclaimed, her voice trembling with emotion. she hugged him tightly, her earlier nausea momentarily forgotten. kuma licked her face, his little paws resting on her shoulders as if he understood just how much she needed him.

jennie couldn’t help but smile softly at the scene. she always remembered how much of a fit jane threw the day kuma left. the separation had been tough on both of them, and it had taken a considerable amount of time for both of them to re-adjust. seeing her daughter now, hugging kuma with such relief, reminded the woman of just how much ivory had missed him.

“kuma can stay with you in your room,” the blackpink idol suggested as she motioned with her hands towards the hallway. she led the way, her footsteps soft on the polished floor.

young cat-like eyes brightened at the offer. kuma trotted eagerly beside them, his tail wagging with renewed enthusiasm. jennie could see how much the little dog meant to her daughter, and she was relieved to see a genuine smile on ivory’s face for the first time since they arrived.

as they reached the room, jennie pushed open the door, revealing a space that was carefully decorated but had a slightly impersonal feel. the walls were painted a gentle shade of ivory, and the room was furnished with a large, plush bed and a few framed prints of abstract art. it was clear that jennie had tried to make it comfortable, but it still lacked the personal touches that would make it feel like home.

“this is your room,” jennie said, stepping inside and setting down the suitcase she had been pushing. “i know it’s a bit different from what you’re used to, but i hope it’s comfortable enough.”

jane took in the room with a hesitant smile. she set kuma down on the bed, and he immediately jumped up and started sniffing around. the young girl sat beside him, her nerves beginning to ease as she watched kuma settle in.

“it’s nice,” ivory said quietly, glancing up at jennie. “thank you.”

jennie hovered in the doorway, unsure of what to do next. “if you need anything, i’m just down the hall,” she pointed with her thumb in the direction of her bedroom, trying to sound reassuring. but the words felt hollow, even to her. “we could—um, we could order something for dinner later if you’re hungry.”

“okay,” jane replied, her voice barely above a whisper. she didn’t know how to act around her mother, how to fill the silence that stretched between them. “that’s fine.”

“i’ll, uh, let you settle in,” jennie said, forcing a smile before retreating down the hall. she mentally cursed herself for still not knowing how to make things less awkward. her own daughter was 18 years old and yet she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was still failing at the one thing she had always wanted to get right—being a mother.

jane sat on the edge of the bed, staring down at her hands. the room was beautiful, but it didn’t feel like hers. it felt like a space designed for someone else, someone who belonged in jennie’s world. maybe a manager or a stylist. she sighed, wishing her grandmother were here to bridge the gap, to make everything feel a little less foreign.

a few hours passed in uncomfortable isolation. jane stayed in her room, pretending to unpack her things, while jennie busied herself in the kitchen, scrolling through her phone, searching for takeout options, and making sure there wasn’t even a speck of dust to be seen. every so often, she would glance down the hall, wondering if she should go check on jane, but the thought of their stilted conversations made her hesitate.

finally, jennie mustered the courage to knock on jane’s door. “dinner’s here,” she called out, her voice tinged with uncertainty. “i got us some sushi. i wasn’t sure what you liked, so i got a little bit of everything.”

jane nodded, trying to ignore her heart sinking at the thought of another awkward meal. the pair sat across from each other at the dining table, the beautifully arranged sushi laid out between them. the atmosphere was painfully strained as they picked at their food, both searching for something to say but coming up empty.

“so, are you excited about paris?” jennie asked, trying to break the silence. it was a safe topic, something neutral, but even that felt forced. “yeah, i guess,” ivory replied, not quite meeting her mother’s eyes. she wanted to be excited, but the discomfort of the situation was overshadowing everything else. “i’ve never been before.”

“you’ll love it,” jennie smiled, trying to inject some enthusiasm into her voice. “it’s beautiful, and there’s so much to see and do. i’ll make sure you have a great time.”

jane nodded, but the words didn’t have the desired effect. instead, they only highlighted how out of sync they were and how this trip felt more like a chore. on top of that, it’s not like they were going to spend any time together. 

kuma sat underneath ivory’s chair as he looked up at her with curious, sympathetic eyes. it was almost as if he could sense the discomfort. jane absentmindedly scratched his head, drawing a little solace from his company.

as they continued eating in a more comfortable silence, jennie glanced at jane, considering her next words carefully. she didn’t want to push too hard or make her daughter uncomfortable, but the thought had been on her mind since they arrived.

“valentine,” jennie started, her voice gentle, “i was thinking, if you’d like, you could change your flight and come with me tomorrow instead of flying out the day after. we could fly out together?”

jane looked up, surprised by the suggestion. the idea of spending even more time alone with her mother was daunting, but at the same time, there was a part of her that wanted to try. maybe flying together would help ease some of the tension, give them more time to figure things out.

“oh,” ivory answered gently, biting her lip as she considered it. “i don’t want to mess up your plans.”

“you wouldn’t be messing up anything,” her mother reassured her quickly. “i think it might be nice. i’ve always wanted to go to paris together and now we can.” 

ivory hesitated, her brow furrowing as she thought about the reality of the situation. “but how are we going to do this?” she asked cautiously. “i mean, no one knows about us.” 

the older woman’s smile faltered slightly as the weight of her daughter’s words sank in. it was true—her relationship with ivory had always been kept under wraps, a secret known only to jieun and teddy. having her daughter by her side in the eye of the public seemed daunting, but there was something about this moment that made jennie feel like it was worth the risk.

“you’re right,” jennie admitted softly. “it could be complicated. but maybe it’s time we stop hiding. i don’t want us to keep pretending like we’re not a family.”

the look on jane’s face was indescribable. the color drained from her soft cheeks, leaving her looking pale. her hands clenched slightly in her lap, knuckles turning ivory. she shook her head, eyes wide with alarm. 

“no,” she said firmly, her voice soft but resolute. her eyes met her mother’s before she continued speaking. “we can’t do that.”

jennie blinked, taken aback by the intensity of her daughter’s reaction. “i mean it,” ivory added, her words spilling out in a rush. “i don’t want the world to know about me. it’s too much. they’ll tear me apart. they’ll tear you apart.”

her mother opened her mouth to respond, but jane kept going, her voice growing more serious with each word. “i’ve seen how they treat you, how they talk about you. the rumors, the pressure—everything. if they knew about me, it would just make things worse for you. i don’t want to be the reason your life gets even harder.”

jennie felt a knot form in her chest. she hadn’t fully considered how overwhelming the public reaction might be for ivory, how cruel the spotlight could be. it was one thing for her to face the scrutiny, but for her daughter to be thrown into that same world—it wasn’t something she could force on her.

“i’m sorry,” ivory whispered, her eyes downcast. “i just can’t do it.” her mother reached across the table, gently squeezing her daughter’s hand. “you don’t have to be sorry,” she said softly. “i didn’t mean to push you into something you’re not ready for.”

jane nodded, her shoulders sagging in relief, but the tension still lingered in the air between them. the idea of stepping into the public eye and finally being labeled as “jennie kim’s daughter” was too terrifying to even consider. 

she wasn’t sure if she’d ever be ready for that.

but she was still a daughter, and she wanted to be around her mother. 

“i’ll change the flight, but i won’t go in with you. i’ll go in after.” ivory said softly, her voice laced with a quiet determination. she looked up at her mother, trying to gauge her reaction, hoping that her mother would understand.

jennie’s heart ached, but she nodded slowly. “okay,” she replied, keeping her voice steady. “whatever makes you comfortable.” her daughter gave a small smile, relieved that her mother wasn’t pushing the issue. 

the older woman sighed softly as ivory said goodnight and left to get ready for bed, a mixture of relief and sadness swirling within her. she had hoped for a different outcome, but she knew this was the best compromise for now. as much as she longed to openly share her life with ivory, to show the world her daughter and the pride she felt in her, she also understood her fears.

the yg idol sat on the couch in the dim light, the soft glow of the nearby lamp casting a warm circle around her. jennie held the photo album in her lap, her fingers tracing the edges of the worn cover as she hesitated before opening it. it had been a long time since she had allowed herself to look through these photos, each one a fragment of a life she had missed out on.

with a deep breath, jennie slowly opened the album. the first photo she saw was of ivory as a newborn, swaddled tightly in a soft pink blanket. her tiny face was barely visible, just a glimpse of her round cheeks and button nose. jennie remembered that day vividly—how small and fragile ivory had felt in her arms, how she had promised herself that she would protect her daughter no matter what. 

but that promise had been easier said than done.

she turned the page, revealing a series of photos from ivory’s first birthday. ivory was sitting in a high chair, her face covered in frosting as she reached for the cake in front of her. her eyes were wide with excitement, her mouth open in a toothless grin. jennie had been there that day, but she had left early for a performance, missing the rest of the celebration. seeing the joy on ivory’s face in those photos made jennie’s chest tighten with regret.

the next set of photos showed ivory taking her first steps, her tiny legs unsteady as she wobbled toward the camera. jieun had been the one to capture that moment, her voice encouraging ivory in the background of the video that accompanied the photos. as usual, she hadn’t been there; she had been on tour, performing on the other side of the world. she had watched the video later, tears in her eyes, knowing she could never get that moment back.

even now, it still brings her great disappointment knowing she couldn’t be there.

as the idol continued to flip through the album, each photo seemed to teleport her back to those earlier times. there was a picture of jane on her first day of school, clutching a bright pink backpack that was almost as big as she was. her smile was shy, a mix of excitement and nervousness, and jennie remembered feeling a pang of guilt when jieun had sent her the photo. she had wanted to be there, to walk her to her classroom, but her schedule had kept her away once again.

another photo showed ivory dressed as a black cat for halloween, her face painted with a smile as she held a pumpkin-shaped bucket full of candy. jennie had been at a photoshoot that night, once again missing out on the chance to see her daughter’s costume in person. 

the album was bittersweet, a reminder of how many moments she had sacrificed for her career.

they held memories of holidays spent apart, birthdays celebrated without her, and milestones that jennie had only experienced through photos and videos. there was a photo of ivory with jieun, the two of them standing in front of a christmas tree, their faces lit up with laughter. jennie had sent gifts that year, but she hadn’t been there to see ivory’s face light up as she opened them.

there were many years afterward where jane didn’t even open anything she sent her at all.

finally, jennie reached the last photo in the album. it was one she had taken herself, a rare moment where she had been there, present and in the moment. ivory was about six years old, standing on a beach with the ocean behind her. her dark hair was windblown, and she was laughing, her arms outstretched as if she were trying to catch the waves. jennie had taken that photo during a brief break from her tour, a few stolen days where they had escaped to the coast. 

it was one of her favorite memories, but even then, the time had been too short.

jennie closed the album, her heart heavy with the weight of all the memories it held. she wished she could go back, that she could have been there for all the moments she had missed. but as she sat there in the quiet darkness, she once again was reminded that she couldn’t change the past. 

all she could do now was try to make the future better, to be the mother that ivory needed her to be, even if it meant continuing to hide her daughter from the world.

exhausted by the emotions that the memories had stirred up, jennie leaned back against the couch, her eyes growing heavy. she didn’t even notice when sleep finally claimed her, the photo album still resting on her lap, a silent testament to the years that had slipped through her fingers.

and she also failed to notice the younger version of herself, now all grown up, quietly padding into the living room. ivory had been restless, unable to sleep as the weight of everything settled over her.

she knew why her mother had missed so much—jennie was an idol, a superstar with the world at her feet. but that knowledge didn’t make it hurt any less. it didn’t make up for the nights she had cried herself to sleep, wishing her mother was there to tuck her in. 

it didn’t make up for the times she had needed her mother’s guidance and had only found jieun’s comforting presence instead.

but as her cat-like eyes landed on the album, jane couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt she had never acknowledged before. it was the same feeling that had plagued her sleep this very night. it was impossible to ignore now.

was she a bad daughter for resenting her mother all these years?

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CLOSED.

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

me casually thinking about miguel o'hara discovering reader's notebook accidentally left on her desk filled with cutesy drawings of him (hearts and all) and personal entries of what they think of him

perhaps there's a playful confrontation?

hii!! omg this is so cute!! I did change a couple small things, hope that’s okay. thank you for requesting, hope you like it💌

doodles

Miguel O’hara x fem!reader

wc || 1005

warnings || none, just fluff

part 2 -> doodles

masterlist

Sometimes during meetings at HQ, you were so bored listening to Miguel drone on and on that you'd often draw as a way to kill time. You'd have your mini notepad hidden behind your arm as you doodled onto the page, drawing and sketching whatever was around you. More often than not, Miguel would be a victim of your boredom. You'd doodle angry sketches of him as he stood there talking to the other spiders, scolding them or telling them off for things they've done wrong.

So like any other day, you had your doodle pad on the table hidden behind your bent elbow, drawing little sketches of everyone. Finishing up on Hobie's drawing, you glance over to Peter B, noticing Mayday's cute expression as she mimicked Miguel. 

You quickly sketched her, drawing her hat with locks of curly hair and a toothy grin hidden behind, finishing it by adding little mini hearts around her. You turn to Miguel next to her and doodle a softer sketch of him than you typically would. A little drawing where he is subtly smiling into the fist of his hand as he watches Mayday, a moment where he looks somewhat happy. You scribble away with his sketch, pencil to paper as you capture the unfamiliar expression on his face. You finish the doodle by adding small notes beside his face, little thoughts and entries of your undeclared feelings towards him.

You excuse yourself to the restroom, placing your notepad on your chair, discreetly hiding it as you stand from your seat. You make your way over to the door, mouthing to Miguel, "pee break," with a smile as you walk passed the other spiders. 

Miguel wasn't oblivious to your doodles. He often pays attention to you when you don't even realise it, watching you scribble away in your notepad, clearly disengaged in the meetings as he speaks with you and the other spiders. If anyone, anyone acted as uninterested as you during conversations, he would've lost his temper, but not with you. When you did it, he found it sweet, endearing almost.

You thought you were being discreet with your doodles, believing that you've played Miguel, but like always, he was a few steps ahead. So, as soon as you leave the room, he stalks over to your chair, snatching the book and hiding it under his arm before excusing himself from the room.

He was pacing outside the seminar room, fingers tapping on the cover of your notebook as if he was battling with himself; either sneak a look and betray your trust or leave it be. He knew he couldn't ruin what he had with you, so he decided on the latter.

"What are you doing with that?" you ask, your eyes squint in focus as you walk towards him.

"What is it?" he asks, waving the book at you, his gaze following you as you get closer.

"Give it back,"

"You didn't answer my question," he wryly smiles, his head cocking to the side.

"You didn't answer mine," you say playfully, hiding a smirk.

He stifles a snicker, averting from your gaze. "Can I see?" he asks, his tone genuine as he nods to your pad.

"No,"

"Why?" he grins, extending his arm so it was out of your reach.

"Oh, that's not fair," you jokingly frown, tugging his arm.

"Why can't you show me?"

"They're just crappy doodles," you shrug, partially lying. "Please- it's embarrassing, give it back," 

"Okay," he nods, lowering his arm, raising it again as if to play you. "Why can't I see? Am I in there?" smirking.

Your eyes bug, and you feel the heat rush to your hands, feeling nothing but embarrassment under his attention. He must've sensed your unease because he hands you the book with no objection, avoiding your gaze.

"Thanks," you sheepishly smile, hiding the book under your arm. "They're just sketches of Mayday and Pav and stuff," you say, trying to ease the slight tension. Even though you didn't want him to see, you still felt a little guilty about it. He was only showing his interest, that's all. He wasn't being mean or critical. He just seemed genuinely curious about your drawings.

"I'm sure they're good," he smiles small, nodding towards the door as if it was time to join the rest of the group again. "You don't have to show me. If they're private, I get it," he comforts, dropping the question as he extends a hand.

"You can't be mean about them," you say quietly, pulling out your notepad. "If I show you... you can't be mean about them,"

A smile slowly creeps on his face, his eyes softening at the idea. "Promise," he grins, ushering you to the nearby bench. "I wouldn't dream of it,"

You sit down, and Miguel joins you seconds later, sitting close to you, inches apart. You hand him your work and look away, feeling too embarrassed. 

He's quiet, far too quiet, and it's making you anxious. 

"I told you they're bad," you awkwardly laugh. 

He doesn't say anything. He just smiles, looking over your mini sketches. 

"What uh- what'd you think?" you ask, glancing between him and the page.

"You did these?" he questions, his eyes focused on the paper.  

"Yeah," you coyly smile, chuckling.

"They're amazing. This one- is it meant to be me?" he grins, looking up to find your gaze. He softly laughs, pointing to a sketch in the corner. "Why do I look so angry?" 

"That's how you always look, Miguel," you laugh, playfully nudging his side. 

"Is that why I have... squiggly lines coming from my head?" he grins earnestly, watching the smile widen on your face. "And the frown lines?"

"You were being mean that day," you justify, snickering.

"Oh, really? Huh?"

You were thankful he stopped flicking pages when he did, as there were drawings and notes a few pages over with some thoughts and feelings you weren't yet ready to share, notations of your personal feelings towards Miguel.

[avocad1s]

Bring Back What Once Was Mine

Chapter Summary: The nation of Cryo welcomes you.

Characters Mentioned: The Fatui Harbingers & The Tsaritsa.

Content Warning: Cult and Religious themes ahead! You've been warned.

Reader is the true creator of Teyvat. GN! Reader

Part Four Part Five (you are here!) Part Six

You alr know what I’m gonna say… not beta read :>

The Gnosis didn’t just connect the Archons to the Creator. It also connected them to Celestia.

Although very few understand it, one thing that is known is Celestia is the residence for the Gods. On rare occasions, mortals can ascend to Celestia if they preform great, heroic feats. Meaning even humans can achieve godhood.

However as the decades went by, the Archons begin cutting of their ties to Celestia after the Cataclysm. They decided to live in their respective nations rather than watching them from above.

Celestia, who noticed the reservations of the Seven, knew that it had to do something to keep its order intact.

“You’re Grace?”

“Hmm?”

“You should put your coat on now, we will be arriving on shore soon.”

A few hours has passed since you had made a detour in your journey gotten a on the boat with Childe, he was a talkative individual, boasting about his skills in combat or about the Tsaritsa. Yet when you asked about the other Harbingers he wouldn’t say much, he would vaguely mention something about their strength or their contribution to the Fatui.

Speaking of the Fatui, you still had your reservations about the infamous group. Though when you try to reassure yourself that you know the Cryo Archon better than anyone else, Aether’s words fills your ears.

You sigh slipping the soft material of the coat onto your arms, feeling your body instantly heat up.

“Lord Harbinger,” one of Childe’s soldiers approached the two of you in a stiff bow. “We have arrived.”

Just like with Sumeru, it seems the Snezhnaya had changed a great deal since the last time you were here. You could hardly believe that this nation had been on lock for many years.

Childe holds his hand out to you, “I’ll lead you, Your Grace.” You rest your hand in his gloved one causing him to smile wider as he leads off the boat onto the icy deck.

The deck and the pathway leading to the Zapolyarny palace has a scare amount of security. You couldn’t help but wonder if it was on purpose or if your arrival to Snezhnaya is unexpectedly early.

“Are you nervous, Your Grace?” Childe asks suddenly.

You swallow, could he feel your apprehension? As the two of you get closer to the Zapolyarny palace, you could feel the tension in your body increase. The overwhelming presence of malice the palace was giving off, you could only imagine who- or what- was in there.

He gives your hand a slight squeeze looking over at you, “there’s no need to be nervous, the Fatui and Her Majesty are your most loyal servants. We will never do anything to betray you.”

Nodding at his words, you try to ignore the goosebumps that just appeared on your skin.

Childe pushes open the large doors leading you inside the icy fortress. Even though it wasn’t very well lit, the decor in the inside was spectacular. Multiple banners hung from the support beams all of them with snowflakes decorated at the bottom of it. There were also dozens of pews that lead to the front of the room which seemed to be the most lit. Many soldiers stood near the wall gawking in your direction once you entered the palace, but with a simple glance, you could tell they were lower ranked. Not because of anything they were wearing, but because of the two who stood in front of you.

One you recognized to be the Cryo Archon but the other was someone you’ve never seen before. Both were all dressed nicely but still kept the cold weather in mind.

The Tsaritsa was the only one to approach you, she wasted no time grabbing your free hand with both of hers. “Your Grace please forgive me for my rude welcoming. If I had known you would arrive today-“

“You have no reason to apologize, I wish I was here under better circumstances…” you interrupt.

She lets go of your hand nodding, “having you here already means everything to me.”

You smile at her sweet words, the Tsaritsa was still the same as you remembered. Maybe letting the words of Yelan and Aether get to you was a bad idea.

“You must tired after your journey.” The Tsaritsa begins, “we’ve prepared a room just for you. I hope it’s to your liking.”

Truthfully, you would take any bed right now. Ever since you descended to Teyvat, you’ve been sleeping outside or not sleeping at all, you wouldn’t complain about any accommodations right now.

She looks back at the man who was watching your interaction, “my most trusted will guide you to your chamber. I will come check on you later.”

The Tsaritsa takes a step away from you, turning her attention to Childe who was still holding your hand. “Come with me Tartaglia,” she orders.

Childe hesitantly lets go of your hand giving you a reassuring smile, “don’t worry Your Grace, if you need anything from me, I’ll still be in the palace.”

It fell silent for a moment in the palace, only thing that could be heard is the faint footsteps of Childe and the Cryo Archon walking off as they whisper about something you couldn’t make out.

“Divine One…”

You focus your attention on the man in front of you. He had on a mask like the soldiers in the room with you but his only covered half of his face, his hair is white and his eyes… (or eye) were the most peculiar. It was definitely something you recognized but he was standing to far away for you to make out what it was exactly.

“My name is Pierro,” he introduces, “I will guide you to your chamber.”

So this was the Tsaritsa most trusted. It makes you wonder how long he’s been in the Fatui to earn such a title. He leads you down a hall in the opposite direction that the Tsaritsa had went, he doesn’t say anything keeping his gaze forward and his hands behind his back.

“Where are the others?” You ask breaking the silence.

He glances at you for a moment, “I’m assuming you mean the other Harbingers? They’ll be returning soon.”

Pierro stops in front of a double doored room at the end of the hall, “this is where you’ll be staying while in Snezhnaya, Divine One.” He opens the door for you allowing you to walk inside as he stands by the threshold.

The room was fairly dark, the only light coming from the fireplace on the furthest wall from the door. There was one large bed in the middle of the room and a couch by the fireplace. There was also a table with a few books neatly stacked on it.

“I hope you enjoy your time in the Zapolyarny Palace.” Pierro closes the door leaving you alone in the large room.

Once the door clicks, you pull the flower Aether had given you out of your pocket inspecting it closely. Luckily it hadn’t wilted while on your journey to Snezhnaya. You place the flower on the table shrugging off your coat draping it on the chair. You relax into the couch allowing the fireplace to keep you warm, unaware that this is the last time you’ll relax before knowing the truth yourself.

-

-

The Zapolyarny palace was more comforting than you thought it be.

Slouching on this couch has to be the first time you ever allowed yourself to fully relax since you descended to Teyvat. You didn’t even realized you were succumbing to sleep until you heard faint voices outside your door that brought your attention back to reality.

“Is their Grace really behind this door?”

“That’s what the Jester said, maybe I should bring them something to eat.”

“Why should it be you? Their Grace knows me, they’ll be more comfortable if I bring it to them.”

“It shouldn’t have been you who found them in the first place, Tartaglia. I’m higher ranked than you, it should be me who gives it to them.”

“Well if it’s purely based off our rankings than it should be me, no? I am the highest ranked out of us all since number one isn’t here.”

“You’d just scare them off Dottore!”

Their fighting immediately ceases causing you to sit up on the couch. We’re they aware you were listening or did they walk off to argue somewhere else. Neither answer made sense, you hadn’t made a noise since you noticed they were outside your door and you didn’t hear their footsteps or fading voices indicating that they walked off.

A soft knock is heard at the large doors.

“Your Grace,” a voice calls out. It was the Tsaritsa, “are you awake? May I come inside?”

You use your palms to straighten out your wrinkled clothing before answering, “yes I’m awake. Please come in.”

The door opens immediately and the Cryo Archon walks inside closing the door behind her.

“We’re you able to settle in?”

You nod, “yes! This room is perfect, thank you.”

“I’m glad…” she slowly approaches you on the coach before hesitantly sitting next to you. “Well there’s no point of beating around the bush… I’m assuming you know why I came to see you?”

You rest your hands in your lap giving her your full attention, “it’s about the False Creator. Right?”

“Yes.” She confirms, “Tartaglia wasn’t lying when he said that I’ve figured out where the False Creator came from.”

You say nothing waiting for her to continue and after a best of silence she says, “Your Grace, there’s a reason why none of the Archons were alerted to your presence. We all removed our Gnosis.”

Your eyes widen, “what? Why?”

“It’s not because of you!” She quickly reassures, “we all still hold you in the highest regard, but to be connected to you we also have to be connected to…”

“…Celestia…” you finish her sentence. “Is there something wrong with Celestia? Why don’t you all want to be connected to it anymore?”

She brushes some of her hair off her shoulder, “when you went off world centuries ago and left Celestia in control of Teyvat, something changed.”

“What do you mean?” You ask.

She shrugs, “I’m not entirely sure what happened but once you left, being in Celestia felt… wrong. Like none of us were supposed to be there but it was Celestia’s final order that made us cut our connection to it.”

“Celestia’s final order?”

“What I’m trying to tell you is that Celestia had ordered us Archons to destroy Khaenri'ah under the guise that it was you who told us to.”

Once she had seen your face, it takes everything out of the Tsaritsa not to fall onto the floor and beg for your forgiveness, but telling you everything is whats important right now, even if you do hate her afterwards.

“We all thought it was you who told us to do it… and that’s when the other one had arrived. Pretending to be you, they reassured us that we did the right thing and that we had gotten rid of a nation filled with sinners.”

You notice her eyes fill with tears, she felt true guilt for what she and her fellow Archons had done. Reaching out, you place your hand on top of her silently urging her to continue.

“Celestia feared it was losing it’s control over Teyvat after us Archons stopped going there once you had departed. So it sent down a fake you to keep the control it had over the world. With the False Creator and the Gnosis, Celestia had Teyvat right in the palm of it’s hands.”

“Wait.” You interrupt, “if that’s all they did, then why was Khaenri'ah destroyed?”

You feel her hands trembling under yours, but before you can comment on it she continues. “Khaenri'ah had found out about Celestia’s plans to send down a False Creator. When Khaenri'ah had made plans to summon you, Celestia ordered the destruction of the nation. It’s what we call the Cataclysm.”

You remove your hand from hers bringing them up to your mouth. There’s no way she was actually telling the truth, Celestia had existed way before anyone on Teyvat did. It was one of your first creations, would it really betray you like that?

A cold hand on your cheek breaks you out of your thoughts, the Tsaritsa turns your head to look at her a frown apparent on her face.

“I know how this sounds your Grace but you must believe me. I would never tell you such a blasphemous lie if it weren’t the truth!”

“What were these plans Khaenri'ah had found?” Are the only words to leave your lips.

“A prototype.” She explains, “they had sent down a prototype to see if they could fool Khaenri'ah into believing it was actually you. Celestia knew that convincing that nation would be the hardest since it was the only nation without an Archon.”

You stand from your spot on the couch causing the Tsaritsa to jump up as well, her face looked frantic but she held her composure well. It was clear where the Fatui had gotten their cold nature from.

“And how exactly did you get all of this information?”

“There are many remnants of Khaenri'ah still around Teyvat Your Grace. Celestia wasn’t able to eradicate everything.” She explains.

There was a another silence between the two of you but it wasn’t like before, this time it felt suffocating. If what she claims is the truth that means your own creation, something you believed you could trust, had betrayed you. Now everything made sense. Everything Aether had told you about the remnants of Khaenri'ah still being present. He was there, he probably seen all of it.

You should’ve went with him when you had the chance. Outlander or not, you were conflicted on who you could trust now.

“Your Grace?” the Cryo Archon stutters out her hand resting gently on your shoulder. “What are you going to do now?”

You decide not to respond but her question continues to repeat in your mind. What are you going to do? If it was Celestia, then destroying the Imposter wouldn’t solve your problem. What if you decide to go off world again? Would Celestia just make another Fake Creator and take reign over your world once more? You couldn’t let that happen, it wasn’t a risk you were willing to take.

“As unbelievable everything you just told me sounds, I’m going to trust you…”

Her body visibly relaxes at your explanation.

“Even though I still don’t know everything I wanted, if Celestia was the one who created the Imposter then I cannot waste anymore time. I must return to Sumeru and deal with them immediately.”

-

-

Note: I apologize for the five day wait, but this part took a lot of research on my end and yeah 💀 i already know there are some inaccuracies but for the sake of the plot idc. Anyways we have just reached the climax of the story, my plan is to wrap everything up in three more chapters but we’ll see how that turns out.

Taglist: @esthelily @the-dumber-scaramouche @grimreapersscythe @seawater-aurelia-writing @probablynoposts @genshin-impacts-me @itsredactedlove @chidouna @thedevioussmirk @hoo-hoo @chaoticfivesworld @akemiixx01 @lunarapple @nowords-onlybreathing @fangirlinindia @veyu002 @blackcoffex @kaveh-is-pretty @ariasdream @averycuriousperson @bloopthebat @chuuya-brainrot @crazydreamcat @sparklyphantom @multistanbee @bluebelony @mokakoto @mega-trash-cringe CLOSED

I apologize to anyone who has asked to be tagged over the past few days! Please know that I did see you but Tumblr is not allowing me to add anyone else to the Taglist :<

Also this blog has hit 200 followers in under two weeks… umm HELLO? where did all of you come from?!? Seriously though, I appreciate all of the love and support you all have given this story 🙏 I love you all platonically ofc !!!

[tinytinyblogs]

🩵💕love love LOVE the 'out? I don't think so' series and was wondering if you would do a yandere ot8 x reader fic or headcannons or something where they have kidnapped reader and reader tries to escape. What will skz do when they catch them in the act? What kinda precautions would they take in the future and would they punish you for escaping? Sorry this sounds like an interview😅

Where do you think you're going, darling?

Running away doesn't seem like a good idea, because in the end, they will always come after you.

⚠️ Yandere theme, unhealthy obsession, Kidnapped and a lot more⚠️

ChanMin, BinHyun, HanLix, SeungIn

💬 Thanks for the request, darling. This is going to be a series that I'll post once a week. I hope it meets your expectations. If there are any shortcomings, I apologize deeply.

Stray Kids Masterlist

Your insights and reactions make these posts come alive. Love reblogs, comments, and all the good vibes welcome ✨

Chan

Chan rarely rested; his obsession drove him relentlessly. He took his twisted sense of responsibility seriously, especially when he dragged you to the place he believed you belonged—his captive. But that night was different. After countless sleepless nights fueled by madness, he finally crashed into a deep, haunted sleep. That was your moment. Heart pounding, you crept through the suffocating silence, every step a prayer that the floor wouldn't betray you. The door loomed ahead, and with a final, trembling breath, you slipped through. You ran, adrenaline pumping, terror biting at your heels as you hid, desperate and trembling. The next morning, Chan awoke, disoriented from the depths of his deranged dreams. His eyes fell on the ajar door of your room. A chill ran down his spine as he pushed it open, staring at the empty space where you should have been. His eyes widened, then narrowed with a cold, simmering rage. His hand clenched into a fist, knuckles white. And that was the moment he snapped.

From that day forward, he became a relentless hunter, his every waking moment consumed with finding you, dragging you back into his nightmarish grip. You had escaped his grasp, but you had awakened the beast within him. Now, he was coming for you, and nothing would stand in his way. Chan was a smart guy—you knew that well, which was why you were haunted by an uneasy feeling as you sat in the corner of the room where you were hiding. Yet, as if manifesting your worst nightmare, he appeared. He stood there, no smile on his face, observing you with cold, calculating eyes. He closed the door and walked closer, squatting down to your level. "You know, darling, it wasn't very smart of you to run away," he said, his voice more menacing than ever. Those were the last words you remembered before everything went dark. When you finally awoke, you were in a dimly lit room, Chan sitting not far away. The scene felt eerily familiar, like déjà vu—the same sinister feeling you had the first time he kidnapped you.

Even in the darkness, his eyes felt like lasers burning into your soul. "You scare me, you know that?" His voice dripped with a chilling mix of anger and relief. He took a deliberate, menacing step closer, then sat on the bed where you lay, utterly vulnerable. "It's not so nice of you," he hissed. He gripped your hand with brutal force, his fingers digging in painfully, as if trying to meld his fear and fury into your flesh. The intensity of his emotions—terror, rage, relief—poured out, overwhelming you. You couldn't hold back the sobs; crying was the only thing you could do. Through your tears, you noticed the sinister changes in the room. The window was now fortified with thick iron bars, turning it into an impenetrable cage. The door was covered in multiple locks, each one a new barrier to your freedom. The room had become a twisted fortress, a stark testament to his obsession with keeping you captive. For several agonizing days, he kept you tied to the bed, the ropes cutting into your skin, a constant reminder of your captivity. His paranoia and rage transformed your existence into a living hell far worse than before. Every day, he would stand over you, his eyes burning with a mistrust so intense it felt like a physical force.

He made it clear with every look, every word, that he no longer believed a single thing you said. His touch, once merely controlling, now turned brutal. He gripped you with a force that left bruises, his actions driven by a volatile mix of fear and anger. It was as if you had unleashed a monster within him, one that thrived on anxiety and dread. He couldn't stop thinking about what could have happened if he hadn't found you. Every terrible scenario played out in his mind, feeding his obsession and deepening his madness. He stopped sleeping properly, too consumed by the thought of you slipping away again. When he did sleep, it was right beside you, his body a constant, oppressive presence. He kept one arm draped over you, fingers twitching even in sleep, as if he feared you might vanish if he let go. The room became a fortress of his making: the windows barred with thick iron, the door secured with multiple locks, each one a testament to his desperation to keep you contained. You felt his breath on your skin as he slept, each exhale a reminder that you were never alone, never free.

His nightmares became your reality, his fears and anxieties shaping every moment of your existence. He would wake up in a panic, shaking you awake just to make sure you were still there, his eyes wild and frantic. And through it all, you cried. Your tears were the only outlet for the terror and despair that consumed you. But even your cries seemed to fuel his madness, making him grip you tighter, hold you closer, as if your pain validated his twisted need to keep you under his control. His love had turned into a prison, and his obsession, your endless nightmare.

Minho

That day, Minho's arrogance reached new heights as he seemed to believe you had succumbed to his control entirely. He underestimated your resilience, assuming you had resigned yourself to the grim fate he had imposed upon you. But in the moments when he was absent, when the oppressive weight of his presence lifted just slightly, you saw a glimmer of hope—a chance for escape, however slim it might be. Clutching the hairpin you had managed to keep hidden since your last captivity, you meticulously worked at the lock with trembling hands. Each click of the mechanism felt like a victory, a step closer to freedom. Finally, with a soft snick, the door swung open, and a rush of adrenaline surged through your veins. You moved swiftly, silently, every instinct screaming at you to flee, to put as much distance between yourself and Minho as possible. The hallway stretched out before you, a dark labyrinth of uncertainty, but you pushed forward, driven by sheer determination. As you ran, the memories of past escape attempts flooded your mind—the fear, the desperation, the agonizing uncertainty of what lay beyond the confines of your prison. But this time felt different. This time, you refused to let fear paralyze you.

With each step, you felt a surge of defiance, a newfound strength coursing through your veins. You were no longer the helpless victim Minho had made you out to be; you were a survivor, fighting tooth and nail for your freedom. The hairpin remained clutched tightly in your hand, a symbol of your resilience, your refusal to be caged. You used it to overcome every obstacle in your path, picking locks, jimmying windows, anything to put distance between yourself and the suffocating grip of Minho's control. And as you finally broke free from the confines of his lair, you vowed never to look back. When Minho returned home, plastic bags dangling from his hands, he dropped them unceremoniously to the floor the moment his eyes locked onto the front door. With a sense of urgency, he rushed inside, scouring every corner of the house in search of you. But his efforts were in vain; you were nowhere to be found. His frustration boiled over, his hand clenching into a tight fist as he slammed it against the wall with a primal scream. Blood trickled from the wound, but he hardly noticed, consumed by the overwhelming sense of failure.

He became consumed by the hunt, forsaking sleep and sanity alike in his relentless pursuit of you. He tracked you tirelessly, driven by a desperation that bordered on madness. Each passing moment without you felt like an eternity, a torment he couldn't endure. Failure was not an option; he couldn't bear the thought of losing you again. And then, one fateful night, as you lay sleeping, unaware of his presence, you opened your eyes to find him sitting beside you, his gaze fixed on your slumbering form. There were no words exchanged, only the weight of his silent observation hanging heavily in the air. "Do you sleep well?" Minho's voice was as cold as ice as his hand grazed your cheek, leaving a chilling trail in its wake. There was no warmth in his touch, only the stark reminder of his possessiveness. "Are you sleeping well without me?" he asked again, his words laced with a bitter edge. It was almost as if he couldn't fathom the idea of you finding solace in slumber without him by your side. His grip tightened on your chin as he continued, his voice a venomous whisper in the air.

"I can't sleep when you're away. It's time to go home, darling, back to where you belong. And I swear, this time there's no way out." The determination in his voice sent a shiver down your spine, a premonition of the ordeal to come. He dragged you back to the place he called 'home,' though to you, it was nothing more than a prison of your own making. As he threw you into the room with no window, the darkness enveloped you like a suffocating embrace, leaving you gasping for air. With a roar of frustration, Minho unleashed his fury upon the room, his hands becoming weapons of destruction. Objects shattered against the walls, the sound of breaking glass echoing through the empty space. He didn't care if his own hands bled in the process; all that mattered was his need to exert control, to assert his dominance over you. You cowered in the corner, your body trembling with fear as you watched the chaos unfold before you. The air was thick with tension, every breath a struggle against the suffocating atmosphere of fear and despair.

After what felt like an eternity, Minho's rage began to subside, his breaths coming in ragged gasps as he surveyed the wreckage he had caused. Slowly, he approached you, his footsteps heavy with the weight of his own anger. With a brutal grip, he seized your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. "If you ever run away again," he hissed, his voice dripping with malice, "I swear, I'll break your legs, darling. I hate the thought of hurting you, but if it's necessary, I will." The threat hung in the air like a dark cloud, casting a shadow over any hope of escape.

[lortsyall]

Echoes of Eywa's Child.

chapter 1.

(Neteyam x Human!Reader series)

Pending....Pending....

Date: December 21st,2174.

Location: Office,Unit 4,Avatar Department,Human Outpost Biolab,Hallelujah Mountains,Pandora.

Time: 10:15 AM.

A long time has passed since I've known about this once alien planet. 4.4 light years away,a world full of life,like a lost paradise,sat idly in silence,away from the death and destruction that has scattered over Earth like a goddamn plague.

The ones before us saw the danger of it all,and yet they turned a blind eye,all because the climate change and the fractures in the atmosphere caused by the heightened levels of carbon dioxide wouldn’t affect them in the long run. They’d be dead anyway by the time it got too serious. So much for doing the right thing.

I wasn’t even born when they discovered Pandora,though until I actually got a grasp of reality and gained consciousness like everybody does at 5 years old,I’ve actually wondered if the so-called “Goldilocks Zone” existed somewhere else. If God smiled upon the universe and gave another planet the privilege of life.

Trust me,I have no idea how I even got here. So much time has passed since I’ve breathed in the polluted air of Earth,but I guess it’s for the benefit of all.

Guess we'll do it like they always do,huh?Start from the beginning of it all.

Pending...Pending...

Date: January 26th,2170

Location: Home,New York,USA, Earth.

Time: 12:43 PM.

Nobody ever thought that a girl like me would end up as the head leader of the Avatar Department,or an important person in the Resistance. And I gotta say,I never quite imagined myself becoming this. I dreamt of stages full of fans,as my fingers gave birth to heart-shattering riffs. Of poetry books released under my very own name,painting the pages with complicated feelings and sensations,all of a broken and imperfect human heart. Of having my own star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame,making my country proud as a well known actress overseas. Though all those dreams were scattered away,like a feather in the wind,the moment I decided to do what any other scared yet artistically talented person who wants to make her parents proud does.

I got into STEM. Mechanical and Biological Engineering.

And between the sleepless nights of studying,drowning myself in math equations and lab reports,I got a one-way ticket to Pandora in my first year of college,from the one and only Parker Selfridge. Head administrator of the RDA’s operation in Pandora. I can still feel the anxiety lingering on my tongue. They never came with internships for first years,so what was he here for?

He came in to give out 5 internships at my college,yet he left with a new potential piece for this chess game. Me. All thanks to a question he asked that I knew the answer of. And to think I almost didn't say the answer because I thought everyone knew it,but as it turns out,only I did. I sat in the hallway with my friends,staring dumbfoundedly at the bussiness card he gave me.

Only back then,the RDA were treated as heroes,important people who made way for a better life. For an undead Earth. The propaganda was all enough to trick a little mind like mine,though it’s funny how I always thought I was a step ahead of everyone. Life on Earth as I remember it was,to say the least…grey.

The cities were gray. The people were gray. The sky was…well,grey. And between spending the rest of my life here,with my dreams crumbling before my very own eyes,and going out there to actually fight for a new home for humanity,you can guess why I chose the latter.

Nothing out of the ordinary was happening for me here anyway. Gorgeous girl,great personality,they all said,but nobody ever settled. Nobody ever stopped in their tracks to take in the pure and total beauty of the chaos that is me,so I never had a serious partner before. And…I guess I was also excited to see if the stories are true.

How an actual human betrayed his own race for a…Na’vi tribe princess?At least that’s how they put it,and I don’t even want to mention how embarrassing it was for the RDA to come back to Earth with their tails between their legs back in 2154. No unobtanium. No money. No Avatars. No nothing. I was three when that happened,and I remember playing with my cousins with our cardboard toys as our parents watched the TV in confusion and…disappointment,so you can guess why they made Jake Sully seem like an actual demon,and the death of a colonel was a pretty big deal,after all.

Thing is,the RDA only shows you the pearl in their hands,and not the mouth getting ready to swallow you whole. And now I know why they were so understaffed. That total failure after 2154 made people lose trust in the RDA over the years. But to me?

The decision came easily. I needed something new.

What didn’t,though,was the pure work I’d have to do in just 6 months. Learning the language of the natives,the Na’vi. Getting to understand the differences between our anatomy and theirs. The fauna and flora. The tribes. The ecosystems. And…of course,Eywa herself,though I learned that from Dr. Grace Augustine’s botany books,not from the RDA’s training program. I honestly don’t know what Selfridge saw in me,when I know I have friends better in college than me,but I better not question it too much.

I tried telling myself that as soon as I got in cryo,it wouldn’t be a goodbye,rather a…see you later. Looking back at it now,I think it was just wishful thinking. For now,I was me,the girl nobody ever really took seriously. Just another face in a sea of others. Next time I wake up,I’d have to work in an entire department with people twice my age.

Pending...Pending...

Date: July 31st,2174

Location: Pandora????

Time: ?????

The cryo-sleep thaw was a nightmare and a miracle all at once. My lungs burned as they dragged in air for the first time in four years, my throat raw and dry, every breath tasting metallic. My joints ached as if I’d aged a century.

“Subject revived.” the sterile voice of the AI announced, flat and emotionless. I tried sitting up, only to slump back down against the cryo pod’s restraints. My body wasn’t mine yet—not entirely.

“You’ll feel like shit for a while,” said a woman in a crisp lab coat, her voice muffled as she checked my vitals. “Side effects of long-term cryo. It’ll pass. Welcome to the ISV Valkyrie, and congrats on making it to Pandora.”

The word hung in the air, heavy and surreal. Pandora.

The next few hours were a blur of debriefings and medical checkups. My body eventually began to cooperate, but my mind lagged behind. I shuffled through endless corridors with other groggy personnel, each of us too stunned to speak. We were like ghosts wandering through a ship that pulsed with life—technicians barking orders, holograms buzzing with real-time scans of the moon’s surface, the low hum of engines preparing for atmospheric descent.

When the ship finally broke through Pandora’s atmosphere, I felt it in my chest. The vibrations reverberated through every bolt, every panel, and through me. The world outside the viewport was alive. The dense, green forests sprawled endlessly beneath the floating Hallelujah Mountains, their bases wreathed in ethereal clouds. The sky shifted from pink to blue in the blink of an eye, its colors alien yet breathtakingly familiar.

For a moment, the hum of engines and the chatter of voices faded away. It was just me and the sight of this strange, beautiful moon—a place that could have been paradise if we weren’t here to ruin it.

The ship landed with a jarring shudder, and the real work began.

Adjusting to life on Pandora was like learning to breathe all over again. Everything about this place demanded respect—the gravity was lighter, the air richer, and the biology... unfathomable. Days blurred into weeks as I threw myself into the work at the Avatar Department.

My mornings began with syncing sessions in the link pods, my mind slipping into my Avatar body like stepping into a cold pool. It wasn’t seamless—at first, every movement felt foreign. I stumbled through training exercises, my longer legs and stronger muscles betraying me at every turn. But slowly, the body became mine.

Afternoons were spent reading over files on Na’vi biology, studying their neural networks and learning their language. The words felt clumsy on my tongue, but I persisted. When I wasn’t in the lab or out on field assignments to observe Pandora’s ecosystems, I was immersed in RDA briefings.

That’s where I first heard his name again.

Jake Sully.

The briefings spoke of him like a ghost, a legend who had long since passed into myth. But here, his name was a warning.

“Resistance forces led by Sully attacked the rail line near Sector 7 again,” one of the military officers growled during lunch at the canteen. “Three shipments of amp suits lost. That bastard and his little insurgents are crippling our operations.”

The room buzzed with tension as reports of attacks piled up. Sabotaged trains, stolen supplies, and destroyed equipment—it was chaos. To the RDA, Sully wasn’t just a traitor. He was the personification of everything standing in the way of their plans.

But the more I learned, the more conflicted I felt. The propaganda painted him as a terrorist, a man who had betrayed his own kind for a primitive cause. But every whisper I caught from the scientists who had been here longer told a different story.

“Maybe Sully isn’t the villain they make him out to be,” I muttered to Dr. Ellison one evening as we worked late in the lab.

He glanced at me, his expression unreadable as he pointed towards a CCTV with his head,as if to say "Shut up. They're listening."

"That’s dangerous talk,you know. Keep your head down. Do your work. They don't like questions.”

I nodded, but the seed of doubt had already taken root.

The attacks continued, each one more brazen than the last. The RDA ramped up their operations in response, sending more troops and machinery into the wilds of Pandora. But for every move they made, the Resistance seemed to be one step ahead.

And then there was the tension between the people I worked with. Some were diehard loyalists, determined to see the mission succeed no matter the cost. Others—mostly the scientists—spoke in hushed tones about the beauty of the Na’vi culture, the interconnectedness of the flora and fauna, and the destruction we were bringing to this world.

I kept my head down, just as Ellison had warned. But at night, as I lay in my bunk staring at the ceiling, I couldn’t help but wonder: which side of history would I be on?

Pandora had a way of getting under your skin. The longer I stayed, the more I realized it wasn’t just a place. It was a mirror, reflecting humanity’s best and worst instincts back at us. And somewhere in the middle of it all was me—a girl who had come here for a fresh start, only to find herself caught in a war she didn’t fully understand.

The attacks became more than background noise; they became a constant undercurrent to life on Pandora. At first, they were just distant explosions, reports in the briefing room, or muttered curses from the military personnel in the mess hall. But over time, the Resistance started to feel like a presence, a shadow that loomed over everything the RDA tried to accomplish.

Jake Sully wasn’t just a name anymore—he was a force of nature.

The first time I felt the Resistance's impact directly was during a supply run. It was supposed to be routine—a quick trip to outpost Beta-5 to deliver Avatar-linked monitoring equipment. I was tagging along as part of my training, mostly to observe.

But the Resistance didn’t care about schedules or safety zones.

The attack was fast and chaotic. One moment, the AMP suits ahead of us were trudging through the dense forest, their movements mechanical and predictable. The next, arrows rained down from the trees, followed by explosions that sent the towering machines toppling like broken toys.

The ambush hit like a storm—sudden, violent, and unstoppable.

One moment, I was riding in the back of the supply truck, surrounded by crates of equipment and two guards sharing a nervous laugh. The next, the forest erupted in chaos.

The first explosion flipped the lead AMP suit, its towering frame crashing to the ground with a deafening roar. The convoy came to an abrupt halt as arrows rained down from the trees, their sharp points glinting like falling stars.

“Get down!” someone yelled.

I hit the truck bed hard, the impact knocking the wind out of me. My mask rattled against the metal floor as I scrambled for cover behind a crate. The world around me dissolved into a cacophony of gunfire, shouting, and the eerie war cries of the Na’vi.

The guards fired blindly into the trees, their exo-packs hissing as they struggled to maintain their aim under the pressure. I peeked over the edge of the crate just in time to see one of the AMP suits stagger, an arrow embedded in its cockpit.

Panic set in. My heart pounded so hard it felt like it might burst. I wasn’t a soldier. I wasn’t trained for this. My human body was fragile here—one wrong move, and I’d be dead.

I clutched the sidearm they’d insisted I carry, though my hands were shaking too much to use it. What was I even doing here? This wasn’t supposed to be my fight.

A shadow passed overhead. My breath hitched as I looked up to see a Na’vi warrior leaping from a tree, his bow drawn, his movements impossibly fluid. He landed on the roof of the truck with barely a sound, his golden eyes scanning the scene below.

And then, those eyes locked onto mine.

For a moment, the chaos of the ambush melted away, leaving only silence between us.

He stood above me, perched on the edge of the truck’s roof, silhouetted against the glowing forest. His figure was tall and commanding, every line of his body taut with a warrior’s grace. The flickering bioluminescence of the nearby trees played off his skin, casting shifting patterns of light and shadow across his lean, muscular frame.

His face was angular and strong, the high cheekbones and sharp jawline unmistakably Na’vi, yet there was something softer in his expression. His golden eyes, large and luminous, fixed on me with an intensity that felt like a physical force. They weren’t filled with rage or cruelty but something far more unnerving—calculated curiosity, as though he were trying to read my soul in that single moment.

The streaks of blue war paint decorating his face didn’t fully mask the smooth, rich azure of his skin, which gleamed faintly under the pale light of Pandora’s twin moons. His braids, adorned with small beads and feathers, swayed gently with each subtle movement, a testament to the culture he carried with him like armor.

But it wasn’t just his appearance that struck me—it was his presence.

He radiated confidence, a quiet power that demanded attention without arrogance. It was the kind of aura that made the world around him seem smaller, less significant. The chaos raging around us felt like a distant hum compared to the weight of his gaze.

And yet, beneath that commanding presence, there was something deeper—an unmistakable grief, perhaps, or a burden that someone so young should never have to carry. It was in the set of his shoulders, the faint downturn of his mouth, and the way his hands gripped the bow with both precision and purpose.

“Drop it,” he said, his voice deep and steady, but with a softness that caught me off guard.

The words hit me like a command, though they weren’t barked or shouted. It was the tone of someone who expected to be obeyed—not out of fear, but respect.

For a second, I couldn’t breathe. The sidearm in my trembling hands felt heavier than it should, as if the very act of holding it was a betrayal. His gaze flicked to the weapon, then back to me, and I realized with a jolt that he wasn’t looking at me like an enemy. He was looking at me like a question.

“You are… different,” he said, tilting his head slightly, the movement as fluid and deliberate as everything else about him. His accent curled around the words, each syllable infused with the lyrical cadence of his native tongue.

I wanted to speak, to ask him what he meant, but my throat felt dry, my voice lost in the weight of the moment.

He crouched slightly, lowering himself onto one knee so we were nearly at eye level. Even then, his presence dwarfed mine. Up close, the details became sharper—the faint patterns of his skin, the slight twitch of his ears as they picked up the sounds of the battle behind him, the faint rise and fall of his chest as he breathed.

“You do not fight,” he observed, the faintest hint of curiosity threading through his words. His eyes lingered on mine, their golden glow unwavering. “And you… fear.”

It wasn’t an accusation. It was a statement of fact, delivered with neither judgment nor malice.

His hand shifted slightly, and I flinched, but he didn’t reach for me. Instead, he pointed at the weapon still lying on the ground between us.

The Na’vi reacted instantly. He grabbed my arm and pulled me to my feet with startling gentleness.

“You do not belong here,” he said, his voice low and urgent. “Run.”

“What—”

“Go!”

He released me and darted back into the fray, moving with the grace of a predator and the determination of someone who had everything to lose.

I didn’t run. Not immediately. Instead, I crouched behind the truck, my legs trembling as I watched the battle unfold.

He moved like the forest itself, blending into the chaos with a skill that seemed almost supernatural. He wasn’t just fighting—he was leading. The other Na’vi warriors followed his signals, their coordinated strikes overwhelming the RDA forces.

For every bullet fired, they had an arrow. For every shout of anger, they answered with a battle cry that sent chills down my spine.

And yet, amidst the violence, there was something strangely... noble about them. They didn’t kill indiscriminately. They targeted the machines, the vehicles, the weapons. It was as if they were trying to make a point rather than simply annihilate us.

When the ambush finally ended, the Resistance had melted back into the forest, leaving behind a convoy in ruins. Smoke rose from the wreckage, and the air was thick with the smell of burning fuel.

I stumbled out from behind the truck, my legs barely holding me up. Around me, the survivors were regrouping, their faces pale and shell-shocked.

“Medic!” someone called, dragging a wounded soldier from the wreckage.

But I couldn’t move. My mind was stuck on him—the way he’d looked at me, the way he’d spared me when he could have easily ended my life.

“You do not belong here,” he’d said.

The words echoed in my head as I stared at the destruction around me. For the first time, I began to wonder if he was right.

[azen13]

The Lives and Losses of Lovers

Description: This is actually inspired by a post by @lum1nesc3nce, which you can find here! TLDR: Zhongli x God!Reader, where Zhongli kills his lover but they stay alive. This does have a bit more of a Yandere!Zhongli flavor, though, so be warned!

CW: Yandere Themes, Descriptions of Violence, Descriptions of Blood, Murder, Mild Gore,

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

The patio is warm, blessed with the touch of the sun’s earliest rays. Already you and Zhongli sit in two comfortable chairs; he sips on tea, you on coffee. It is a scene that has played out a thousand times, yet one Zhongli never tires of. He never tires of seeing your face aglow, of feeling your body leaning against his, of knowing you are here, miraculously breathing life through your bones and skin.

“My dear, I was wondering,” Zhongli starts, his soft contemplative voice shattering the flimsy silence blanketing the porch. “Would you like to accompany me to Liyue Harbor to purchase some groceries?” It is a reward–he thinks as he revels in your surprised reaction–for how understanding you have been in these turbulent times. With the whole mess regarding the Fatui cleared up and a mundane mortal life ahead of him, Zhongli can afford to spend more moments with you in sweet, blissful love.

Perhaps one day it will make up for that vile scene years ago, the moment his heart became stone: your body splayed stunningly on the ground, looking like the most gilded, horrific masterpiece he had ever seen. Painted in sunlit hues, his spearhead sticking from your chest splattered with blood made of molten gold. 

Even nearly dying you looked breathtaking. 

He is still suffering from regret for the decision. At the time, the situation was looking grim; Guizhong and Azhdaha were both gone, leaving you his only close friend. He spent many moonlit nights sharing tea and hushed conversation, as well as tears and heartfelt confessions with you. Zhongli is not the god of words, but just the sight of your iridescent eyes made him want to tell you every trouble and every worry had. You were his most valuable treasure, his lover through and through. Your contract with him, to always stand by side, loyal to one another, made him so weak, so soft, so human.

But that was the issue. Everyone knew of his love, his tender affection; unbecoming of a god who wielded earth and stone as weapons. His life was plagued by phantoms day and night. When he dreamed he envisioned you being kidnapped by some evil god like Osial and being tortured. Killed. Doomed to a fate worse than death, even. In the day, every action you did reminded him of a delicate tree weathering a deluge. Your branches swayed in the intense winds and even the earth couldn’t anchor you.

So he pleaded. He begged you to stay tucked away in his private domain where no great evil could stalk after you, promising to love you for an eternity of eternities. He would love you until every mountain had become a valley. But you refused, saying you wanted to live every facet of life, turning the world like a kaleidoscope in your hands.

The mirrors shifted and the skies turned red.

Those prophecies he had dreamt, uttered to him by ghosts haunting his mind, came true. You were taken away by some pesky, lowly god, and confessed all that you knew. That was fine. Zhongli was made of stone and Cor Lapis, and even if this insignificant insect of a god knew his weaknesses–few as they were–Zhongli eviscerated them.

But the contract.

When the god was sealed away beneath the sea, Zhongli fell to his knees, mouth opened but unable to utter any words.

Zhongli is not the god of words.

It is horribly tragic, he mourns as he stares at your hollow expression, that you must face the wrath of the rock because of a ridiculous choice of words. “To always stand by his side.” You have technically betrayed him.

The earth shakes for weeks afterwards. The sudden freak earthquake is talked about for weeks on end before people move on, as life does. Zhongli does not. His memory of you remains petrified, his new specter. He will never truly love again for thousands of years. Every time he is reminded of you, a piece of his heart chips away

But then you came back. 

That day is amber, crystallized in his mind. Seeing you in the bustling streets of Liyue Harbor, so lost after centuries away from home. At that moment, Zhongli decides he will not make the same mistake twice. He would have preferred more time to draw you in carefully, but he is afraid now. Afraid that some hideous twist of fate will rip you from him again. So he whisks you away to his private domain, and drafts up a new contract, binding you to him in matrimony forever. 

Please forgive him, he begs after you sign the contract in gold, tears dripping down your cheeks. He only wishes to protect you; he has always wished to protect you. But the world is cruel to lovers, and not even the strong can uphold such a delicate thing. 

In Zhongli’s private domain, wicked things like time and fate are nonexistent. Zhongli is the only god that rules these lands. He is a benevolent god, if a little possessive. After being deprived of you for so long, he craves your presence, he claims. Day and night, he tries to spend every living moment with you. When he cannot, you are ever-present in his mind–a living, breathing thing instead of the dead spirits that once terrorized it for all those years.

Some days you seem despondent, craving room to spread your branches far and wide. But Zhongli simply chuckles and kisses the top of your head; he smells the gentle scent of your shampoo, knowing this is what is best for you. He whispers it quietly, lacing sweet nothings and honeyed words into his voice as he pulls you into his arms. You haven’t tried to fight him on this in years, either. It’s part of the reason why he has proposed going on a  little trip to Liyue Harbor. Perhaps if all goes well, he’ll allow more trips out of the private domain. All supervised by his watchful eye, of course. After a few moments of stunned surprise, you finally have the courage to speak. “I-I’d love to. Thank you, Zhongli,” you say quietly. Zhongli smiles, leaning to press a delicate kiss to your lips.

“You are very welcome, my treasure,” he whispers, a hand reaching to cup your face; his thumb reaches to brush your lips tenderly.

He can tell that you are still afraid of him, fearful that he will hurt you again. No matter. One day, Zhongli hopes, you will shed your fear like a caterpillar in chrysalis, and emerge into a glittering world full of Zhongli’s love for you. 

[b1xi]

───𝘊𝘜𝘗𝘐𝘋───ハイキュー!!

Haikyuu(ハイキュー!!)x fem!reader

Word count: 4919

𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

Hinata’s eyes sparkled as he looked around the residence where the team would be staying before the match. “Oh, is this where we’ll be staying?” he asked, his voice brimming with excitement as he inspected every corner of the place. “It’s my first training camp! This is going to be so much fun.”

Off to the side, Tsukishima crossed his arms and sighed, looking at Hinata with a mix of exasperation and disdain. “Oh, great. A whole day surrounded by this bunch of airheads… what’s so fun about that?” You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at his usual sarcastic attitude.

“Tsukishima, you idiot!” Tanaka exclaimed, stepping forward.

Nishinoya backed him up with equal energy. “Kiyoko’s less than 500 meters away! How can you be so insensitive?” His expression was pure drama, as if the distance from Kiyoko physically pained him.

You shook your head with a smile, already used to the boys’ antics. Without wasting any more time, you headed to the room assigned to you. Sliding the door open, you were surprised by the spacious interior; it seemed ready to accommodate several people. While you would have enjoyed sharing it with someone like Kiyoko, you knew the young manager would head home since she lived nearby.

With a sigh of relief, you dropped your bag on the floor and started checking if you had everything you needed for the night. Pajamas? Check. Toothbrush and personal care kit? Check. Clean clothes and skincare products? Check. Satisfied that you had packed all the essentials for a peaceful night, you prepared for what would be a solo sleepover.

You got up, ready for dinner. Spotting Hinata and Kageyama sitting together, you decided to join them, though you quickly realized it wasn’t the best choice: both were devouring their food as if it were their first and last meal. Between smiles and incredulous glances, you carefully guarded your plate, mindful of your teammates' voracious appetites.

Even though you had been in Japan for years, you were still selective about some local dishes. Still, you ventured to take a generous spoonful of curry, offering a polite “Itadakimasu” before starting.

It wasn’t long before Hinata, with a hopeful look, pointed at the pieces of kakuni on your plate. “Y/N, are you going to eat that?” he asked, his eyes shining with a mix of enthusiasm and longing.

Smiling, you slid your plate toward him. “No, Shoyo-kun, go ahead.”

“Thanks, Y/N! You’re the best,” he said enthusiastically, savoring the kakuni you had shared.

Midway through the meal, Nishinoya leaned closer to both of you, a spark of curiosity in his eyes. “Hey, I’ve always wondered something, and if I don’t ask now, I think I’ll lose my mind.” He paused dramatically, capturing everyone’s attention. “Are you two dating or something? I mean, you’re always together... like, all the time.”

Both you and Hinata froze for a moment, exchanging a surprised glance before responding in unison: “Not at all!”

Shoyo laughed, throwing an arm around your shoulders playfully. “We’re best friends,” he explained with a carefree grin. “To me, Y/N is like a sister.”

“And to me, Shoyo is like a little brother,” you added, returning his smile. The familiarity and camaraderie in your words made the boys around you laugh, settling the matter.

“Little brother? Why little? We’re the same age!” Hinata protested, frowning comically while the others struggled to hide their smiles.

“Because I’m taller than you, obviously,” you replied with a triumphant grin, crossing your arms to emphasize your point.

Hinata looked at you with a defiant expression, stretching as much as he could in his seat. "Only by a couple of centimeters," he muttered, though his voice betrayed a hint of frustration, which made the boys laugh even harder.

"A couple? I’d say it’s more than that," you replied with an amused smile, raising your hand to emphasize the difference. "Come on, why don’t you try saying ‘big sister’?”

“I’m not saying that,” Hinata protested, frowning and looking away, crossing his arms in a show of stubbornness.

After dinner and a refreshing shower, you slipped into your comfy green Pochacco pajamas and started your nightly skincare routine, following the tips your mom had given you. Sitting on the floor, you opened one of the face masks you had brought, opting for the strawberry one this time. Taking out the small spatula that came with the package, you began carefully applying it to your face.

You hadn’t gotten far when the door burst open. “Excuse me!” Hinata exclaimed as he walked in like it was his own room, closely followed by Nishinoya. Without a second thought, they settled down next to you.

“What are you doing?” Hinata asked, his curiosity evident.

“Just relaxing a bit,” you replied, holding a small mirror as you applied the mask to your face. Then, with an amused smile, you offered, “Want to try?”

“Why not?” the redhead agreed, amused, as he pushed his messy bangs back with a couple of hair clips.

“I want to try too!” Nishinoya chimed in enthusiastically. Before you knew it, what had started as a solo routine turned into an impromptu group spa session. Tanaka and Asahi joined in on the fun, intrigued by the idea of trying the masks. Now, holding the lemon mask in your hand, you were carefully applying it to Asahi’s face as he shared, with a touch of guilt, how he had accidentally scared a first-year student earlier that day and how bad he felt about it.

Meanwhile, Hinata, Tanaka, and Nishinoya had moved to the other side of the room, apparently focused on your PSP, trying to beat the level you had left unfinished. You could hear their murmurs and exclamations every time one of them made a mistake in the game.

Tsukishima and Yamaguchi were walking down the hall after their showers. Tsukishima, with his usual air of indifference, wiped the steam off his glasses, adjusting them slightly in an attempt to restore a clear view. When they passed by your room and saw the door slightly ajar, with murmurs and laughter spilling into the hallway, both stopped, intrigued.

“What the hell…?” Tsukishima whispered, glancing inside with a mix of surprise and exasperation at the scene unfolding. From the doorway, they could see Hinata, Tanaka, and Nishinoya engrossed in your PSP in one corner, while you sat on the floor, carefully applying a lemon mask to Asahi’s face, who looked more relaxed than either of them had ever seen him.

Noticing their presence, you gestured for them to come in. “Tsukishima, Yamaguchi! Want to try?” you asked with an amused smile as you finished applying the mask on Asahi.

Before Tsukishima could respond with his usual sarcasm, Yamaguchi had already stepped forward. “Sure,” he replied enthusiastically, moving to where you were. With complete confidence, he settled on the floor and rested his head on your lap, relaxed and ready to be pampered. He chose the strawberry mask, and you began applying it to his face with gentle movements, enjoying the calm of the moment.

Tsukishima let out a barely audible murmur. “Traitor…” he said under his breath, though his words lacked their usual bite. Without much else, he moved closer and sat beside you, crossing his arms and giving you a look of patient resignation, as if waiting for you to finish.

“This is so relaxing,” Yamaguchi commented, enjoying the soft strawberry scent of the mask on his face. When you finished, he sat up and joined the others, who were still struggling to beat the video game level, fully immersed in the challenge.

With an amused smile, you turned to Tsukishima, showing him the remaining mask options. “Alright, which one do you want?” you asked, holding up the two for him to see.

He simply shrugged. Without much hesitation, you picked the lemon one. “Then it’ll be this one,” you said decisively, opening the container.

Without a word, Tsukishima shifted slightly and rested his head on your lap. “Make it quick. This is ridiculous,” he muttered with his typical indifference. But deep down, you knew that if he were really uncomfortable, he wouldn’t have agreed so easily. As you began applying the mask, you felt his hair, still damp from the shower, slightly soaking your clothes.

When your hands brushed his face to remove his glasses, Tsukishima tensed for just a moment—almost imperceptibly. To anyone else, his posture would still seem indifferent, but in that moment, he was grappling with thoughts he would never allow to surface. Ever since the day he met you, something about you had unsettled him in a way he couldn’t quite decipher. He remembered that second encounter—when you accidentally hit him in the face with a ball—and how it made him see you differently. And when you approached to check if he was okay, cheeks flushed and voice filled with apologies, he had been intrigued. He couldn’t explain what caught his attention; maybe it was your unusual accent when you spoke Japanese or the spontaneous expressions in your native language that you let slip into conversations. There was something genuine and refreshing about it.

But perhaps what surprised him most was how wholeheartedly you threw yourself into supporting them. Despite their chaotic practices, mistakes, and failures, there you were, cheering them on with fervor. Shouting words of encouragement that sometimes seemed almost ridiculous but somehow managed to energize and uplift them. And, though he’d never admit it out loud, there was something charming about your jokes—those corny ones you told when you sat next to him, not caring if they weren’t funny, simply enjoying the moment.

There was also the way your intelligence caught him off guard, like when you helped Hinata with his homework during breaks. He couldn’t deny that he saw you differently, in a way that clashed with his usual attitude.

It was the little things, the unconscious details that made you stand out. The way you furrowed your brow when something didn’t sit right with you or when you didn’t understand something—a look that became even more evident when you reviewed sheet music in the gym during breaks. Often, he watched you from afar, observing in silence. Your presence seemed to have its own rhythm; you always smelled nice, dressed gracefully, and to him, you looked more than good. However, whenever he started thinking about all of this, his mind would quickly rein itself in, reminding him that he shouldn’t think of you that way—especially in a moment like this.

Suddenly, the snap of fingers in front of his face pulled him out of his trance. “Earth to Tsukki,” he heard your voice, clear and amused. He opened his eyes and saw you raising an eyebrow, his glasses perched on your face, making you look funny. His gaze met yours, and for a brief instant, he couldn’t help but smile—if only on the inside.

"Man, you’re really blind," you said playfully, noticing how strong the lenses were.

Tsukishima looked at you with a mix of frustration and resignation, quickly extending his hand to try to grab his glasses back. "Give me that," he said seriously, but you, quick as ever, moved away before he could reach them. He was lucky the mask covered the slight blush on his cheeks, which didn’t escape your notice.

"'Give me that,'" you mimicked, copying his tone and posture, which only made him huff in annoyance.

"I don’t sound like that," he complained, still trying to retrieve his glasses, but you moved deftly to keep them out of his reach, enjoying the slight discomfort you seemed to cause him. Tsukishima’s nearsightedness didn’t help him much in this situation, and when he tried to distract you by smearing a bit of the mask onto the bridge of your nose, you paused to clean it off. He took advantage of the moment, grabbing his glasses back with a small victorious smirk.

"How annoying," you muttered, rubbing your nose to remove the excess cream, only to hear a triumphant cheer from the other side of the room.

"We did it!" Hinata and Yamaguchi shouted in unison, celebrating as they finally cleared the level you’d been stuck on. Their excitement filled the room, and Tsukishima, clearly irritated by the noise, let out an exasperated sigh.

"So loud," he commented, his tone as sharp as always.

Suddenly, the door burst open, and Daichi appeared, looking surprised and slightly annoyed. "Hey, it’s late! What are you all still doing up?" he said firmly. Taking in the scene before him, he frowned in disbelief. "What… what is this? Go wash that stuff off your faces and get to bed. Now."

With a collective sigh, everyone began getting up and reluctantly leaving the room, some grumbling about the captain’s order while others simply muttered their goodnights, resigned to Daichi’s reprimand.

You grumbled softly under your breath as you walked at a slow pace, trailing far behind the group of boys. "Damn… This is what I get for showing up early," you muttered, casting a frustrated glance at the figures running ahead. Ukai’s training sessions were notorious for being grueling, but you’d never thought you’d find yourself caught up in one.

"Come with us, you never exercise, not even in PE," the redhead had said with that boundless energy of his that sometimes got on your nerves. Stupid carrot head, you thought with a mix of irritation and resignation.

Unlike the rest, who were already running at a steady pace, you chose not to rush. Instead of trying to keep up, you preferred to stroll leisurely, enjoying the cool morning air and the quiet streets stretching out before you.

"Hinata, don’t yell for no reason; you’re just going to tire yourself out faster," Daichi warned, his tone firm but patient. Hinata, however, ignored the advice, picking up his pace to try and overtake Kageyama.

"Hey, where are you going?" Daichi exclaimed again as the redhead suddenly veered off course with all his impulsiveness.

You sighed at the commotion, finally catching up to the group, who had stopped by the side of the road for a break. Despite the curious glances sent your way, you didn’t stop. You simply kept walking with the same calm as before, unwavering in your stride.

"Wait, where are you going now?" Daichi asked, raising an eyebrow at your indifference to the team’s pause.

"To find him," you replied without slowing down, adjusting your high ponytail and brushing away the strands of hair that had begun sticking to the back of your neck from the heat. "Let’s just get this over with. It’s too hot to drag this out any longer."

You continued walking, your pace steady and determined. As you turned a corner, your gaze landed on Shoyo, who seemed engrossed in an animated conversation with another boy.

"Shoyo!" you called firmly as you approached. He quickly turned at the sound of your voice, an innocent smile lighting up his face. However, your attention soon shifted to the young man standing beside him.

He was dressed in a red tracksuit, probably his school uniform, and though his posture was relaxed, there was something in his gaze that unsettled you. His sharp, feline eyes rested on you for a moment, calmly analyzing before returning to the phone in his hands. He was reserved, that much was clear, but there was something intriguing about his demeanor. For a moment, he reminded you of Nayuta, though with a more masculine version of her serene expression—except for the blonde hair that set him apart.

"Oh, there you are!" Shoyo exclaimed, interrupting your thoughts with his usual energy, bouncing toward you like he was celebrating a victory. "This is Kozume Kenma; he’s a second-year in high school and, well… he’s lost," he explained, casually pointing at the blonde boy.

"I-I’m Y/N Y/LN," you introduced yourself, bowing slightly with more nervousness than you would’ve liked to show. Why are you stuttering? For god’s sake, he’s just a cute guy, you scolded yourself internally, feeling a slight warmth on your cheeks.

Kenma barely nodded in response, murmuring something that sounded vaguely like "nice to meet you" without looking up from his phone. His lack of interaction didn’t bother you; instead, it piqued your curiosity about his quiet and reserved personality.

"Did you know Kenma plays volleyball too?" Hinata chimed in enthusiastically. Hearing that, your eyes drifted to the athletic shoes poking out of the bag next to the blonde boy. They were of good quality, evidently worn but well cared for.

"He’s a setter, but not like ours," Shoyo continued, referring to Kageyama.

"Thank God," you muttered under your breath, just loud enough to pass as a casual remark. The thought of dealing with another Kageyama sounded exhausting.

Kenma glanced up for just a second. "What about you? What position do you play?" he asked, raising his voice just enough for you to hear him clearly.

"She’s our coach’s assistant," Hinata answered before you could even open your mouth. You shot him a sidelong glance, mildly annoyed, but decided not to correct him.

While Hinata continued chatting with Kenma, you stayed silent, merely observing. You noted how effortlessly Shoyo filled any empty space with his contagious energy. Before the redhead could ask the boy about his school, a deep voice rang out from down the street, cutting through the moment.

"Kenma!" called a tall guy with black hair styled in an unusually striking way. His presence dominated the space, his tone a blend of authority and familiarity.

"Kuro," Kenma responded with his characteristic calm. Without hurry, he stood and walked toward his companion.

"Bye," Kenma murmured as he left. You felt a pang of disappointment watching him go so quickly. "See you, Shoyo, Y/N," he added, his tone slightly warmer.

Your eyes met his in that final moment. And just when you thought there wouldn’t be any further interaction, Kenma did something unexpected: he threw you a quick wink, so subtle you might have missed it if you hadn’t kept eye contact. A sudden warmth rose to your cheeks, and before you could process it, he was already walking away with Kuro, as if nothing had happened.

The air, which had felt cool and relaxing earlier, now seemed uncomfortably warm. “Someone hold me…” you muttered under your breath, stunned by what had just occurred. The sense of discomfort and confusion was almost tangible.

“Y/N, are you okay?” Hinata asked, noticing your bewildered state. His eyes sparkled with concern as he observed you curiously. “You’re red. It’s because of the sun, isn’t it?”

Hinata, in his typical fashion, placed a hand on your forehead to shield you from the direct sunlight, trying to protect you with his innocent gesture. However, something in his expression shifted when his gaze followed the direction Kenma and Kuro had taken. His eyes widened in surprise, and for a moment, it seemed like something had just “clicked” in his mind.

“No… no, no, no way…” he mumbled to himself, as if trying to process an impossible thought. Then, he looked at you, bewildered, noticing you were still silent and your face was still flushed.

“No… it can’t be!” Hinata repeated, his face a mix of confusion and barely hidden curiosity. “Come on, you just met him, and you already… you?” he tried to continue, but you cut him off, placing a hand over his mouth to silence him before he could say more.

“Stop talking,” you said firmly, trying to regain your composure. Straightening up, you stared at Hinata. “Not a word about this, okay?” The seriousness in your tone made it clear this wasn’t the time for jokes.

Hinata looked at you with an amused expression, and you knew you couldn’t trust him to keep this secret. His face was far too mischievous, as if the whole thing was just a game to him.

“Understood?” you insisted, pressing your hand more firmly against his face, hoping he’d finally get the message.

Instead of answering directly, Hinata did something completely unexpected—he licked your palm, as if he couldn’t care less about what you were asking. The gesture left you utterly stunned and, if you were honest, a little grossed out.

“Ugh, that’s disgusting!” you scolded, pulling your hand away quickly and shaking it with a look of disdain.

The familiar voice of Sugawara interrupted you both at that moment. “Hey, guys!” he called out, making you and Hinata turn toward him. “We’ve been looking for you.”

“Sorry,” Hinata apologized with a sheepish smile, not seeming too bothered. “I ran off and got lost.”

“It’s fine,” Sugawara replied, brushing off the incident. “Come on, we need to head back.” With that, the group began walking back to the gym, their conversation resuming its usual flow.

It wasn’t long before Hinata sidled up to you, murmuring a question. “Are you going to tell me what that was about?” But before you could respond, he darted away when he caught the murderous glare you shot at him—a clear warning that you didn’t want to talk about it.

“Girls are so weird,” Hinata muttered under his breath, seemingly to himself, glancing at you with a mix of curiosity and mild fear.

Finally, the long-awaited day of the match against Nekoma had arrived. Both teams were lined up in front of the entrance to the gym, ready to enter the venue where the match would take place. The rows were neat, with Karasuno players on one side and Nekoma players on the other.

Your gaze swept across the opposing lineup, and that’s when you saw him: Kenma, the reserved guy you had met not long ago, now dressed in the red and black uniform of Nekoma. To your surprise, he was playing as the setter for the opposing team. Wow, so he's their setter. Cool, I’ll get to see him play, you thought, feeling an odd excitement at the prospect of watching him in action.

"Kenma!" Hinata called before he could enter the gym, excitement clear in his voice. "You're on Nekoma?" he asked, not bothering to hide his surprise.

"Ah, yeah," Kenma replied with his usual calm.

"Why didn’t you tell me?" Hinata puffed his cheeks, clearly annoyed that he hadn’t known this detail earlier.

"Because you didn’t ask..." Kenma looked away, his answer as simple as ever, though no less effective.

Hinata furrowed his brows, as if trying to process his teammate's logic. "But you said we’d see each other! How could you not tell me something like that?" he insisted, still confused.

Kenma glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, a slight glint of amusement in his gaze. "Your shirt said 'Karasuno High.' It was pretty obvious," he concluded indifferently, leaving Hinata without a comeback.

Before the conversation could continue, a tall and intimidating-looking guy appeared behind Kenma, drawing the attention of both you and Hinata. His expression was serious, and his posture radiated a kind of passive threat.

"Hey," he said in a deep voice, addressing you and Hinata directly. "What do you want with our setter?" His tone aimed to be intimidating, but to you, it was nothing more than a half-hearted attempt.

Hinata, almost instinctively, took a step back and hid behind you, leaving you to handle the situation.

"It’s none of your business," you replied calmly, crossing your arms while maintaining eye contact with the guy. Your voice, though relaxed, carried an edge of challenge. "And who are you?" you added, raising an eyebrow, making it clear that his attitude didn’t impress you.

Before the other guy could respond, Tanaka's voice rang out behind you, full of energy and attitude. "And what do you want from our first-years?" he spat, stepping forward to position himself in front of you with a challenging stance. You glanced at him, feeling a twinge of exasperation. This is ridiculous, you thought, crossing your arms while trying to maintain composure.

As Tanaka and the tall guy began an exchange of words that seemed to escalate quickly, something else caught your attention. A soft "hello" was heard next to you, immediately capturing your interest. When you turned, you found Kenma, who was staring with unusual concentration at the screen of your PSP. On the device, the startup menu of God of War: Ghost of Sparta glowed with its characteristic dark and rustic tones.

Kenma kept his gaze fixed on the screen as you held the console in your hands, his interest clear despite his serene expression. "Do you like it?" he asked in his calm tone, which somehow made your heart beat a little faster.

"Yeah, although... I’m still on level 5," you confessed, lowering your voice slightly as if admitting it were some kind of weakness. "It’s harder than I expected."

Kenma nodded, moving a little closer to get a better look at the screen, his golden eyes analyzing every detail. "Yeah, God of War can be tough if you’re not used to the combos. This one, in particular, has some interesting mechanics, but also a couple of frustrating enemies. Have you faced the Giant Scorpion yet?"

Your face lit up with a mix of excitement and nervousness. "No! I haven’t gotten that far yet, but I’ve heard it’s pretty tough. I’m trying to improve my combos... but I always end up pressing buttons randomly when I get nervous," you admitted, letting out a small nervous laugh as you brushed a lock of hair from your face.

Kenma made a small gesture that seemed like an attempt at a smile. "That happens at first. But if you focus on blocking and dodging at the right moment, the fights get easier. Have you tried using the Spartan Rage? It’s good for clearing out hordes."

You shook your head, embarrassed. "No... I think I forgot how to activate it. The tutorial went too fast, and I didn’t want to go back and check."

Kenma looked at you, surprisingly patient. "It’s L1 and R1 at the same time. Try it next time you’re surrounded by enemies." Then, his eyes returned to the screen, but his closeness made you increasingly aware of every little movement.

"Ah... thanks," you managed to say, feeling ridiculously nervous by his attention. It’s just a guy, calm down, you repeated to yourself, even though your hands started to sweat slightly as you held the console.

"If you want, I can help you with that level," Kenma offered, completely casually, as if it were no big deal. But for you, that simple suggestion made your mind go blank for a moment. Help you? Play together?

"R-really?" you stammered, heat rising to your cheeks. "I mean... if it’s not a bother."

Both of you were so absorbed in your conversation that you didn’t notice the four Karasuno guys watching from a few steps behind. Kageyama had approached Hinata, who seemed to be following the interaction with a mix of surprise and amusement.

"What’s going on?" asked the black-haired boy, frowning.

Hinata, with his usual enthusiasm, leaned toward him and whispered something in his ear. Kageyama furrowed his brow even more, confused. "What about her?" he asked aloud, causing the other two—Yamaguchi and Tsukishima—to step closer.

"Shh, lower your voice," Hinata insisted, whispering. "Look!"

Following his indication, Kageyama turned his gaze toward you and Kenma, who were still absorbed in your conversation. He seemed to understand what Hinata was implying, although his reaction was more of a shrug.

The scene didn’t go unnoticed by Yamaguchi and Tsukishima, who had also approached out of curiosity. Hinata, always the first to spread rumors, whispered the same thing to both of them. Yamaguchi covered his mouth to hold back a nervous laugh, but Tsukishima didn’t react immediately. His gaze darkened as he watched the interaction between you and Kenma, the slight flush on your face, and the calm with which the Nekoma blond stayed by your side.

"Ridiculous," Tsukishima muttered, adjusting his glasses with a sharp motion before stepping forward toward you.

"Hey, Y/N," he said, his voice laced with false calm, "I think Coach Ukai is looking for you." He placed a hand on your shoulder, guiding you forward while looking at you with an almost challenging intensity. "He might need your help."

You couldn’t help but let a hint of doubt show in your eyes. It didn’t sound convincing, but still, the pressure of his hand on your shoulder pushed you to take a few steps forward. "Really?" you asked, your tone revealing more skepticism than certainty.

Tsukishima, however, didn’t seem to be shaken. "Yeah," he responded with a calculated softness, though his expression wasn’t entirely honest. "You know how he is. Better go before he gets in a bad mood."

With a resigned sigh, you finally decided to follow him, stealing one last glance at Kenma before he walked away without saying a word.

[gingerteawrites]

BY THE HEARTH: TANGLE

A/N: Hello my darling readers. It has been another eternity, but I hope you have been faring well! I took so long writing and re-writing this chapter, but I hope you enjoy this installment of BTH. As always, please share your thoughts with me, reading your comments is truly what keeps me going. Don't forget to check out the previous part here.

Content: Royalty!AU, Nanami x female reader, king Nanami, Princess Y/N, Widower Nanami, Toddler Yuuji, hurt, angst. Not beta read

Word count: ~4.4K words

Banner by @cafekitsune

ACT VIII

You trudged slowly through the quiet hallways, careful to make as little noise as humanly possible.

Slipping out of your room had not been an easy task. Especially holding the heavy doors with much effort to avoid them from loudly announcing your escape. A small oil lamp illuminated the way ahead, which you pulled closer to your body.

The act of sneaking out of your quarters in the dead of the night was downright terrifying. What if you ran into a maid? A guard? What if someone took you for a thief and charged at you? God, why did your mind ever even entertain this idea? Why on earth had you left the comfort of your bed?

In sum, it was all because of a craving. A very annoying one at that.

Mumbling a curse into the night air, you recalled the earlier events of the night. You had laid awake in your bed for what felt like hours, unable to shake the sudden hunger. Bread. The doughy goodness haunted your thoughts.

Maybe I should call a maid, you had considered, eyeing the large bell that rested by your bedside. You had no doubt that a servant would materialize out of the darkness if you only called. But waking someone for bread seemed capricious. They worked hard enough during the day.

So, you embarked on your solo escapade through the quiet castle, slipping past the few guards you knew kept watch on your wing during what you had observed was the shift turnover.

I just have to get to the kitchen. I’m sure there is some bread laying around somewhere. You steeled your resolve, walking a bit faster.

A few weeks ago you would not even have dared entertain the thought of this little escapade. But somehow, the cold corridors did not scare you the way they had that first night. Your trepidation was not from the prospect of the dark place swallowing you whole anymore.

Steps muffled by your bare feet against the cold marble tiles, you finally reached the main kitchen. You breathed your relief when you turned to close the wooden door, resting you forehead against it.

You turned around to look for your treat, but almost dropped the lamp with a yelp when you noticed a male silhouette standing a few feet away. Your heart rate picked up frantically.

Crap, crap, crap. A lone woman wandering in the castle. In the dead of the night. In nothing but a flimsy night gown. That was it, you were dying tonight.

You screwed your eyes shut, as if hoping not seeing the person would somehow prevent them from seeing you, while the worst case scenarios whirled in your mind.

“What are you doing here?” The calm voice questioned and you dared to open an eye. Squinting to make sure your eyes did not deceive you, you made out the golden hair and deep eyes that only one person you knew possessed.

“I- Your majesty?” The question was rhetorical.

He stepped fully into the small circle of light, his features coming alive against the lamp’s warm glow. He was out of his usual regal attire, white chemise tucked into a pair of simple trousers. You crossed your arms over yourself, conscious of your little clothing.

“Why are you here?” He took a step closer. “Alone?” Another step. “At this time?” Brow raised.

You bit your lip, obviously flustered. You thought about lying. Saying that you were looking for someone to help with something, but that was not even believable. You looked to the ground with a sigh, ready to confess.

“Bread,” Your voice came out quiet with shame.

“What?” Nanami believed maybe his ears were betraying him.

“I wanted to eat bread,” you chewed on the inside of your lip, speaking only a teeny bit louder.

You heard the king choke out a laugh, and your eyes shot up in surprise. Great! If he didn’t think I was ridiculous before, now it’s done.

“Are you serious? Why didn’t you call someone for that?” He asked, clearing his throat to dismiss the amusement in his voice.

“I didn’t want to wake anyone.” your back was still glued to the door. “They all work so hard already.”

“So you decided to wander out in the dead of the night, unaccompanied?” You understood the danger that he implied.

Already embarrassed beyond belief, the desire to eat escaped you. All you wanted now was to return to your sheets and spend the rest of the night mulling over how much of an idiot you were.

“I’ll head back then,” you turned to grab the handle.

“Wait,” the king called out. You paused. “It would be a waste of your efforts to not get your food, now wouldn’t it?” He spoke, his hand finding your wrist. Since that night at the banquet your mind became acutely aware of every time you made physical contact. Sending your heart into a bit of a frenzy. He pulled you away from the door, and towards the wooden table that served as kitchen island.

You followed his lead, resting on one of the stools. The cool of the wood seeped through your thin nightgown. You observed as he turned around and reached for a box on one of the shelves, opening it with ease to reveal a loaf of bread. He placed it at the center of the table and offered you a slice, silently serving you.

“Thank you,” you mumbled, biting into the loaf. Since he insists, might as well enjoy, right? To your surprise, the bread you bit into was not stale, like you had half-expected. It was… warm? Nanami noticed the question in your features as you savored the soft delight.

“I have Alma bake some for me in the evenings,” he found himself explaining.

You nodded, cutting yourself another thick slice. “So… do you also come out to eat like this often?” The whole encounter set your nerves alight. And when you were nervous, you needed to talk.

“I enjoy the peace that the cover of night brings,” he cut a piece for himself, and spread some butter on it. “And bread with it is not too bad.” You grabbed your third slice, nodding along.

But now, your eyes also landed on the roll of butter. You could taste it already, the creaminess of the butter on your warm loaf, the slight saltiness. He pushed the food towards you, and you looked up at him again, realizing he had caught you staring.

How much can I embarrass myself in one night? You mentally face-palmed. Fighting your urges, you pushed it back towards him. “Thank you, but I’m alright.” His eyebrows raised slightly.

“You want it, you can have it,” He spoke matter-of-factly, pushing it back to you. “You can have virtually anything in this castle. You are the queen.”

“Anything?” The wording sparked something sudden in you. You placed your elbows on the table, forgoing propriety. Hell, you were already in nothing but your nightgown in the royal kitchen at an ungodly hour. Propriety was low on the list of priorities now. “Can I truly?”

“Yes,” he repeated, eyes narrowing slightly. Where were you going with this?

“Even…” you swallowed lightly, tasting the last pieces of bread you had left in your mouth. “Even the truth?” His gaze grew harder at your words, unsure of your thinking still but now suspicious.

“Virtually anything,” he repeated, and you smiled at the concession. He wouldn’t tell you anything he was not comfortable with. But you could work with that.

“Then I have a question, your majesty,” your arms returned to your lap as you faced him.

As more of your entourage opened up to you, you had the chance to learn more about this kingdom. But one topic escaped you every time. And perhaps, the only person you would be able to get answers out of was the king himself.

He nodded, crossing his arms, reflecting on how this exchange had just started feeling like one of his diplomatic meetings. He would have to keep an eye out for you. While at times you appeared soft and aloof, the temerity you displayed at other times was no small feat.

“Who is Kaori?”

If you could see beyond his facade, you would know Nanami’s heart stopped for a fraction of a second after the words left your mouth.

These days, the name usually left him indifferent. Over the course of years, he had somehow managed to bury everything behind the wall of indifference. But hearing it come out of your lips broke caused a crack to appear. Or maybe the crack had always been there, just carefully concealed. He replied, his voice calm.

“Kaori Kamo. The previous queen, Yuuji’s mother,” he explained.

The previous queen. Yuuji’s mother. But not my wife. My queen. Your brows furrowed gently. No term of endearment. Maybe Nanami was a cold man. But even for one as such, your heart felt something was off. But wait... Kaori Kamo? Like Marquess Kamo? A frown took over your features fully.

“Did she belong to the same family as the marquess I met during the banquet?” your intrigue grew by the second.

He was frankly surprised you had remembered. “They are…” He sighed softly. “Distant relatives if you will.” He noted the even deeper question in your features.

Normally, he would not have said more. Volunteering information that is not asked is one of the cardinal sins of diplomacy, after all.

But he had found himself acting strangely more than usual recently… Finding excuses to reach out for your hand. Entertaining unproductive small talk. At this point, his mind told him, how could saying a bit more hurt?

“She was adopted into his family given he only had sons. He is a very… Calculating man.” He looked deeply into your eyes, conveying a silent sense of warning.

Everything was coming into question in your mind. Maybe, just maybe their marriage had not been what you thought it to be. You now begun to think over your interactions with the palace servants. Their apprehension towards you had not been because of some residual loyalty to their dead queen, but because of perceived disapproval from the king. As soon as the king had shown favor towards you, their behavior had turned around. If the king notices the gears turning in your mind, he does not comment.

“So…” You had some of your answers. And with the noticeable tension that was thickening the air, you decided this should be all for the night. “What is your favorite kind of bread, your majesty. Or is there any meal you particularly fancy?” He let out an amused chortle. Was this really how you were going to shift the conversation. He unfolded his hands.

The both of you finished the loaf of bread, with you eventually indulging in the butter too. He gave short answers to your small inquiries. And you learned that though brief in his expressions, the king grew surprisingly passionate about garlic oil. Telling himself it was out of courtesy, he asked you about your favorite dishes, and you recalled your childhood favorites, suddenly swept in a wave of nostalgia.

The intent with which he listened egged you on, going on tangents and stories surrounding your favorite foods and some cherished memories. You missed home. Missed your family.

But now, in the warm, dark room you concluded that you did not hate this place. Sure, it was not home, but it wasn’t quite the purgatory you had feared it to be. You eventually pushed away from the table, body starting to grow heavy with fatigue. How long had you been talking for?

The king wordlessly stood, offering a hand to help you up. You grab it with a grateful smile, knowing that he knew. It was time to truly retire for the evening. During the walk back to your room, he stood a little closer than would be considered appropriate. Telling himself it was to shield you from the light wind. But even in his mind, he knew it was but an excuse.

Crawling into your bed, you fell asleep with stomach, heart and mind satisfied by the escapade and unexpected company.

Weeks spent in the castle felt lighter as the air grew even warmer. Your ever companion, Yuuji managed to pull you into almost every activity his busy schedule allowed for. You had ended up taking up archery because the tutor tired of seeing the child being your shadow during lessons. In another turn of events, evenings were now spent at dinner with the king and prince, as Yuuji refused to eat in the immense room without you around.

The relationship between you and the king was also thawing, growing into something almost akin to a partnership. At first all he did was entertain your nervous small talk. Little rambles you cringed at when the silence between you felt suffocating. But somehow, it had allowed for conversation to flow more easily between the two of you. A few more chance encounters late at night in the royal kitchen had even led him to escort you there from your room twice a week.

“If you are going to do it anyway, I might as well make sure you are safe, don’t you think?” Was all the justification he offered after finding you making an omelet one night.

Despite these little steps towards a sense of normalcy, you still felt the barrier. Evident in the thick silences when your curiosity led you to ask about some aspects of his childhood. Or about the previous queen, which you now avoided in fears of breaking whatever fragile bond you had forged.

You were having tea with Shoko in the garden, now in full bloom of roses and white tulips, when a group of maids walked through the nearest corridor, giggles and whispered words bubbling out of them. This was not your first time noting this sudden effervescence, so you turned to Shoko.

“Everyone seems so excited these days.” you watched the group disappear into the distance, picking up the delicate China to sip on hibiscus tea.

“This week-end marks the beginning of the flower festival, your majesty.” Shoko informed, taking a long draw from her long-stemmed porcelain pipe. You had tried picking up the habit out of curiosity, but ended up swiftly coughed your lungs out. Ieiri was a string woman in your mind for engaging in it with such ease and grace.

“Ahh…. right.” You nodded, recalling Riko gushing about being asked out for some sort of dance. “It sounds like such a wonderful celebration. We don’t have anything like this back home, but the idea is lovely.”

You were musing over the last time you had to dance when a Alma appraached your little table, bowing in greetings before handing you an envelope. You looked at it curiously for a second, then grabbed a butter knife to unseal it and reveal a hand-written note.

[Your majesty, As you may have heard, the Flower Festival is but a few days away. Traditionally, it is the duty of the king and queen to preside over the opening ceremony. I am certain the people would be greatly pleased to be graced by your presence if it so pleases you to join me. However, I also understand if you would prefer to not make a public appearance. Please inform Alma of your decision, and I will take care of the rest if you are willing to come. Sincerely, Kento Nanami.]

”If I’m willing to come? Of course, I want to come!” Your mind caught up to the fact that you had said that out loud a bit too late. And upon looking up, you found everyone’s eyes fixed on you with fleeting amusement.

You cleared your throat to push away the embarrassment, and called for paper and quill. Quick to pen down your acceptance of the invitation, you returned the envelope to Alma with a smile.

Now your mind was filled with images of vibrant petals littering the air and joyous dances. So the rest of the afternoon pivoted to discussing the traditions of the festival. You listened diligently to Shoko’s descriptions, but insecurity slowly creeped up the back of your neck. A growing sense of anxiety given the prospect of the people not liking you. The dread of somehow not living up to the ghost of the previous queen. Her shadow seemed ever-present. Everyone's avoidance of your questions only fed into it.

Upon noticing the distant look and cooling of your enthusiasm, your lady-in-waiting paused her explanations. Shoko leveled you with one of those looks she seemed to master so well. Where her eyes felt like they saw right into the depths of your soul.

“The mind is often a scarier place than the real world, your majesty.” she placed her pipe down. “I can assure you, you are far more than the people of this kingdom could ever wish for.”

Getting ready that morning had been a busy affair. You were swept up by a horde of maids, led by Alma as always and made up like a doll. Though they worked diligently, the helps’ eagerness passed over to you with every step completed. The dress they pulled out from the chest had you positively stunned, with the skirts falling down like rich and delicate Dahlia petals, and the bodice hugging your waist before curving up into a sweetheart neckline. The delicate rouge matched the rest of the accoutrement, and you stepped into the courtyard with a heart full of excitement. This was your first time going into the heart of the kingdom. Meeting those who made this place what it was.

The second Nanami laid eyes on you, he felt the circuits of his mind going haywire for an instant. It seemed the palace staff took great pleasure in dressing you up, but he could make absolutely no complaint, much to his demise. Yuuji, who stood quietly at his side ran to you immediately, shouting your name.

“You look like a flower!” The child hugged you when you crouched down to his height.

“I tried to match the occasion,” you pulled away from the hug to bow your head with a smile. “Are you not coming with us, my prince?” You asked, noticing he was in more casual clothing.

Yuuji pouted, his cute cheeks puffing up slightly. “Papa said that people would not want to see me.” You frowned lightly at the words, and Nanami approached you.

“I said it is not customary, Yuuji.” He placed a hand over the boy’s head, which did nothing to erase the pout from his face. “I promise to take you tomorrow. The opening ceremony is for adults only.”

You nodded, recalling the details from Shoko's explanations. Seeking to pacify the child, you placed a hand on his cheek. “Alma told me some of the younger servants are putting on a play this evening. Since I can’t see it, will you watch if for me and tell me what happened later?”

He brightened up slightly at your suggestion, and nodded with a mumbled okay. You entrusted the child to Alma, and Nanami offered a hand, helping you climb onto the royal coach.

The ride passed in silence, as you spent most of the time peering out of the window, taking in the unfamiliar sights. You had been brought into the castle on a cold night, and did not have much time nor heart to appreciate the scenery. But now, as you observed the tall trees and lush foliage, your heart sung with contentment. The king watched from across your seat, unable to contain the little smile that graced his lips. But the time with you in such forced proximity also worked to feed the engine of his thoughts.

He liked you. Despite himself and despite his reservations, he liked your company. The king had grown eternally grateful for your kindness towards Yuuji, and toward himself.

But the guilt of what he considered a fragmentary fatherhood gnawed at his insides. With how much time you now spent with his son, Nanami felt relegated to a secondary role as parent. And despite himself, with that came a malignant bitterness which had started to take root at the confines of his heart. And the mere fact that he was attracted to you did nothing to help the turmoil.

What have I found myself in? His mind lamented, watching your eyes grow round with curiosity and the happy smile that graced your plump lips.

The town finally came into view, and the sound of people cheering and and playing instruments made your heart race with joy. You sat straight, trying to remind yourself of etiquette but waved with a smile as you rode down the road. The carriage came to a stop, and guards formed a loose circle around you and the king. Your smile was ever bright as you waved at the crowd gathered around, their own delighted expressions and cheers adding to the festive mood. You could not even recall how long it had been since you had been outside like this. Away from all the bells and whistles of the aristocracy.

Nanami offered his hand, which you took, walking up to the platform decorated with wreaths of flowers and vibrant bows. The white surcoat he wore was made of radiant silk with white rose appliques along the chest and a belt that synched in his waist in a way that had you sneak a few looks. You admired how looked like the picture of royalty, while not being entirely gaudy. Reaching the stage, he helped you seat on the throne that had been placed for you and faced the crowd to make the speech which you now knew was customary for the event.

“May this new warmth bless our land with prosperity,” his voice commanded attention, all eyes fixed on the king as he uttered the words. “May the bonds that hold us together grow ever stronger,” you watched him intently. The curve of his jaw, the focus in his deep eyes. “May we be guided into the light by love.”

When he had said royalty “presided” over the event, you assumed you would mostly just sit and watch as the people carried out various activities. However, you had not expected everything to be quite so hands on. You were judge to a variety of performances, including a carving showcase, poem recitation and even twirling competition. Once the veteran twirler was announced as winner, she requested that her prize be inviting you for a twirl. Nanami was taken aback by her boldness, but you accepted enthusiastically. Despite being a bit unsteady in your attempts, your cheeks were hurting by the time you were done, from how much you smiled as the petals of your gown flew around you while the crowd cheered.

If only you had seen how the king had looked at you. How much satisfaction hearing the mirth in your laugh had brought his hardened heart. How conflicted he felt over this ever-growing affection for you. How much discomfort had settled in his bones over the thought of betraying his personal oath of solitude.

As dusk creeped over the horizon and the evening air grew cooler, the people and guards gathered wood and tinder at the center of the yard, and you were approached with a torch. Suddenly, you were tasked with lighting the massive ceremonial bonfire. You looked to the shy girl who held the blazing baton, not quite sure about how to proceed.

Without thinking, Nanami took the torch from the girl. He turned to you with a reassuring smile, the usually serious lines around his eyes easing. You felt your heart flutter.

“The people select a royal family member to light the fire as the sun sets to represent an ever-continuing dawn,” he explained. “They seem to have grown tired of me all these years and chose you. Here, I’ll help you with it.” He offered his other hand. The crowd, which had been busy enjoying other performances and eating gathered around the main area once more, watching intently as you neared the pyre.

Nanami handed you the torch, his fingers ghosting over yours as you placed it closer to the wood and watched it come ablaze, the evening gloom bursting in a wonderful scarlet hue. Maybe it was the warmth of the fire fueling you. Or the absolute feeling of elation that the night had brought. But you turned to face the crowd, torch still in hand.

“My dear people,” your voice resonated into the air, expression resolute. “I want to thank you for the kindness and love you have shown me today. As this fire burns bright, may the courage and hard work that is shared by us all keep ablaze.” Their silence carried awe. All eyes fixed on you. “May this dawn bring prosperity and grace to the land.” You turned to Nanami, the fire reflected in your eyes. “May we be guided into the light by love.”

The crowd erupted into cheers, petals thrown around you and instruments playing a celebratory tune. You breathed out a deep breath, handing the torch over to a guard. Nanami approached you, his golden hair looking almost orange from the glow of the fire. He wrapped an arm around your waist and took your other hand, wordlessly inviting you into a waltz.

“The last part of the ceremony is a dance,” his voice was low, eyes burning into yours. Your body relaxed against his, and you secured your other hand around his shoulder. “Your speech,” he continued, bringing you both close to the center of the space. “The people adored it.”

The words brought a smile to your face, and you dared to come closer. “But you, your majesty… How it make you feel?”

He took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of flowers from all around. Lilies, roses, marigold. Inhaling the scent of you. All around him, overwhelming his senses. Giving him no escape. “I adored it.” The words left his lips in a whisper, and you felt your stomach erupt in a flurry of butterflies.

And so you danced. Danced, danced and danced to the festive tune. Your heart alight with contentment. You spun, twirled and laughed. Laughed oh so joyfully. Somehow you had cracked his shell. Or perhaps the cracks had always been there. And it only took you taking some space for them to be split right open.

Kaori had been a painful thorn in his side for years, but it seemed that you… You were the soothing scent of lavender. The plush softness of chrysanthemums. The daring boldness of tiger lilies.

In the blazing night you danced, lighting all of Nanami’s thoughts ablaze. God, he liked you. And he simply did not know what to do with himself now.

A bit of a longer chapter, so I hope you liked it! please let me know what you think!

Comments and reblogs are much appreciated (❁´◡`❁)

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[eggcats]

I've been listening to the Thunder Saga, and I wonder if Zeus is also asking a question with a right and wrong answer in Thunder Bringer like I think Poseidon did in Ruthlessness. (I have a post for that, but I think Odysseus wasn't supposed to apologize, but to instead acknowledge that he should have killed Polyphemus).

Poseidon had to teach him to be ruthless.

Zeus needs to teach him to stop being so prideful.

Like, yes - Eurylochus did stage the mutiny and killed the cow. But! That was because Odysseus decided not to tell any of his men that they would need to accept 6 deaths to get home and allow them to make the choice themselves - because Odysseus couldn't handle the idea that they might refuse going past Scylla and keep him from going home.

This is even present in the song Scylla. Eurylochus is moved to confess that it was him who opened the bag of winds, but Odysseus keeps his own secrets and guilt to himself. I think none of the men even knew they were going past Scylla at all until it happened, since all Eurylochus says is "something approaches," implying he doesn't know what that something even IS.

Scylla even compares Odysseus to themselves, with his full transformation from man to monster now completed.

You hide a reason for shame You know that we are the same Leaving them feeling betrayed Breaking the bonds that you've made There is no price we won't pay We both know what it takes to survive

But if you notice, once they kill the cow, they start following Odysseus again. Hell, Eurylochus calls him captain! They follow his orders to escape! This shows that their real desire wasn't to overthrow Odysseus, but rather their anger and betrayal at not even having the option to choose to fight over sacrifice.

And honestly, this happened because Odysseus has demonstrated time and again that he will not discuss anything with his men and instead makes decisions without their input (too much pride to ever consider anyone's opinion other than his own).

In Storm, he tries to force the fleets to keep going despite Eurylochus saying that continuing would sink them all. In the same song, Odysseus also decides to go to the wind god without any discussion beforehand, and completely ignores Eurylochus's advice in Luck Runs Out about the inherent danger of going to the gods for help. In this same song, Odysseus also completely ignores the deaths of his men by Polyphemus, and instead brags about none of them dying in the war. (Once again, the pride Zeus mentions, and that Eurylochus criticizes in both Luck Runs Out and Puppeteer).

This is why Eurylochus opens the bag of winds, because Odysseus has proven he can't be trusted to tell him anything that could be important or put their lives in danger. Despite Eurylochus being his second in command, he's never treated as such. Odysseus has never once discussed something with him, taken his concerns into account, made a decision with him together, or even taken his advice. (Even cutting him off as far back as Full Speed Ahead without even considering his opinion).

Odysseus continues to ignore what Eurylochus tries to talk to him about in Puppeteer, and instead unintentionally gets all his men trapped by Circe. He then goes against Eurylochus again in the same song to confront her despite neither of them knowing if she can be defeated. All of this comes to a head when Odysseus does the same thing again in Scylla, except his decision was to intentionally let their men die for his own desires - and Eurylochus had no idea until it had already happened.

And that's why Eurylochus mutinies. He does it because he cares about his men, seemingly more than Odysseus has demonstrated he ever has.

(I'm not saying that Eurylochus has been right this whole time, and honestly I doubt Eurylochus would say the same - but Odysseus won't even listen to what he has to say, is the problem. He has too much pride).

And then Zeus arrives and proves Eurylochus right.

Zeus gives Odysseus a choice - him or his men. Forcing him to come to terms with the very same decision he made during Scylla and expose him for only caring for himself and not the men under his command.

Zeus is criticizing Odysseus and claiming that he's too full of pride to sacrifice himself to save his men. His men of which he is their captain. Of which he is their king. Zeus points this out to him explicitly, leading me to believe that he wasn't supposed to choose himself here.

I think that by taking back command after they killed the cow, Odysseus had taken responsibility for his men's actions. Except, when confronted with those same actions, he refuses to. Much like how a boss gets in trouble when their subordinates do something wrong, a captain should do the same for his crew.

Except. Odysseus doesn't. He fails the test.

And now he must have his pride taken from him again and again until he learns the lesson Zeus was teaching him. Just like he did with learning ruthlessness from Poseidon.

I think the next saga will involve him being confronted with this decision he makes here, and how it was the wrong one, and then the saga after that (perhaps with the suitors? I'm unsure how many more are planned) is when Odysseus will reprise Thunder Bringer and finally be able to return home.

[friendlyneighborhoodhottie]

─🕷────────────── Don't Lie To Me (Peter Parker x Reader -Angst-) ─🕷──────────────

You know Peter is cheating on you, and you want the truth.

I had no specific Peter Parker in mind when I wrote this, but enjoy. Language, cheating, angst, implied sex ahead.

770 Words

Peter had been increasingly coming home later than usual. You were sick of him hiding his phone all the time whenever it rang. You hated to be suspicious of him like this but you had a gut feeling something was wrong.

That gut feeling was confirmed when you saw the text light up his phone when you both were in bed one night. He was asleep and went to bed clutching his phone in his hand. It slipped out to lay flat on the mattress beside him. You didn't want to accidentally wake him, so you got out the bed and tiptoed around to his side. Hesitantly picking up the glowing device, you read the message:

New Message From Felicia

Hey Spider...When can I see you again? Last night was too fun ;)

You felt your heart sink.

You started to breathe rapidly, trying to focus on something else before you had a panic attack.

You brushed yourself off for a couple of days thinking maybe it was a coworker. Maybe it was taken out of context. Your Peter could never betray you like that.

But when his phone rang with her name once again, he tried to hide it, and you had enough.

"I got promoted today" He said glancing at you and then digging into his pasta.

You stayed silent as you shook your head and raised your eyebrows. You held the metal fork, gripping it hard, wanting nothing more than to stab him with it.

He continued cautiously, it didn't take his spidey sense to notice your grip on the fork: "I think it'll be good for the both of us, and in a couple months I can probably become assistant manager of the company. What do you think?"

He waited for your answer, and when he received none he frowned.

"Baby, you're being so quiet, what's-"

"Yeah, Peter, I'm sorry for being quiet, and all, while you want to celebrate, but you know what I think? I think fucking other people while you know how much I love you is fucking cruel. Who the fuck is Felicia?" You exhaled through your nostrils, eyebrows furrowed as you let your hidden rage out.

You could see his face go pale, confirming you discovered something he always meant to keep a secret.

"She's...she's just...she's just a-" he stuttered not helping his case whatsoever.

"Peter. Don't you lie to me." your voice stern.

"She an old friend, we've been catching up and there's nothing going on between us." You could tell he was lying.

"Then let me see your phone, Peter."

"What? No, (y/-)"

"Let me see your Goddamn phone!" you yelled. You hated to yell but you were at a breaking point. You tried to stay strong, tears attempting to form in your eyes.

He reluctantly put in his password, and handed it to you while sighing deeply. He pinched the bridge of his nose and shut his eyes.

"Wow."

That was really all you could say. Because the second you clicked on her contact the evidence spoke for itself. Dates they had planned, nudes sent, sexts exchanged. It was worse than you ever envisioned it would be.

You nodded your head accepting that this was reality as you prodded your tongue in your mouth before asking:

"What, so you were going to..just keep me around in case that didn't work out?" You folded your arms.

"It's not...it just kind of happened." he answered struggling to explain himself. What can he say? He was caught.

"But you still kept it going?" you threw your hand up and then back into your arm fold.

"I'm sorry." he says his voice starting to croak.

Your face was full of sadness, but you knew what you had to do. That trust was something that could never be replaced. And it's gone now.

"Sorry won't bring me back" you stated sadly.

You called a friend and asked if you could stay the night, telling them about the situation. You pulled your suitcase from the closet and stuffed as many of your clothes and items in there as possible.

You'd have to collect the rest of your stuff eventually. But tonight you just wanted to be away from Peter.

"Have fun with that" you said pointing to his phone as you left the house, pulling your suitcase behind you.

You got in your car and turned the key to the ignition to drive. Your tears finally flowed as you let yourself cry. You blinked rapidly and hot tears came rolling down, its warmth feeling oddly comforting in this cold time.