#but i had to release my sorrow somehow

[eliciana]

Reverse SAGAU: The Weird Door At My Café

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 (here) | Chapter 5 | ...

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Tw: Reverse!Isekai!Sagau, Normal Au, Café Au.

Reader: Gn!Reader, Adult!Reader, Cafe Owner!Reader

Characters: Reader, Traveler, Paimon

Note: Restaurant to Another World animanga inspired au. There is a taglist if you want to be tagged.

I am also sorry about the sudden disappearance guys. I fell down the stairs and somehow got into a coma. I fear that this is because of the AO3 curse bcs I was going to publish one of my works there so uhh ig I won't now bcs of what happened. Sorry about that guys. I woke up a week ago and I'm now a-okay. }

As a compensation, I am planning to release 3-4 chapters after this week :)

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Its been 2 weeks since the Traveler and Paimon had known about the existence of your otherworldy café, and within that time period, you guys have learned that the door only appears on Teyvat at weekedays. Both of them were devastated at the news. Literally. They spent their whole weekdays with you, they were pouting and whining at how they won't be able to talk to you much more or taste your meals, pastry, and refreshments though, the complaints mostly came from Paimon.

Their sincere sadness, pouts, and sorrowful eyes tugged at your heartstrings, evoking strong sympathy for both of them. They seem to clearly love your creations far more than anything they could prepare or purchase for themselves, so you made up your mind to surprise them for their lovely company and advices in making much more better food. You put your very heart and soul into making something special for your dearly beloved friends, hoping that they won't look so down as much as before when it is time for them to say goodbye.

You were so absorbed in organizing and preparing your suprise that the weekend almost passed you by. You looked at the old ticking clock besise the cashier register and saw that it was 6:55 pm, which was only a few minutes before your scheduled meeting time. You hastily cleaned up after hiding the suprise somewhere they can't quite see. You didn't want any people to recognize them because it would cause tons of trouble not only for you but for Traveller and Paimon as well. So you decided to meet up every 7:00 pm after you close for the day.

At exactly when the clock struck 7:00 pm the door you were once so afraid opened, the soft chime of the bell announced the arrival of your guests. Clearing your throat, you called out cheerfully, 'Welcome, dear customers! Feel free to sit anywhere you like!' The sound of the Traveller’s soft giggles reached your ears, and you turned to greet them with a warm smile. 'Hello, Boss!' they responded in unison, their familiar voices filling the room with an air of comfort and familiarity.

"(Reader)!!!!", Paimon exclaimed, twirling around you like an excited cat seeing its owner after a long time of absence. Though, instead of nearly tripping over her, you found yourself feeling quite a bit dizzy with her rapid spins round you. Thankfully, the Traveller noticed and swiftly grabbed Paimon by the collar of her clothing. "GAAHHH!", she yelped, her playful demeanor momentarily interrupted. "Could you stop spinning around (Reader) for a moment? They're getting quite a bit dizzy with your twirls." the Traveller gently scolded her, a hint of amusement in their voice.

“Hehe, it’s okay! But, Paimon, could you keep your spinning to a minimum? I won’t be able to greet you properly if I suddenly pass out from all the dizziness,” you teased, a playful smile on your face. Paimon’s expression shifted to one of shock. “NOOO! (Reader)! You still need to make me delicious foodddd!” she exclaimed, kicking her feet in the air as if throwing a tantrum. “Come on, Paimon. (Reader)’s just joking with you,” the Traveller said with a sigh, rolling their eyes at Paimon’s dramatic antics.

“Now, let’s settle down, shall we? I have a new item on the menu today. Would you like to give it a try? Here it is; you can read the description and decide if you want to sample it,” you said, handing them two menus. Paimon scrutinized the menu intently before shouting, “The same as usual, (Reader)! And also, one order of the new item!”

The Traveller smiled and added, “I’ll have one Cheesy Tortellini and Sausage Bake, one Creamy Chicken and Rice Soup, and one Iced Pumpkin Cream Chai.”

“Oh my! That’s quite a feast! Rough day?” you asked, taking notes of their orders. “I’ll make sure to throw in some extras for you.”

"*Sigh*, yes. It was a really rough day. *mumble**mumble*." You couldn't quite pick up what they said after but it seems that they truly had a real hard time judging by their deep sigh and slumped shoulders.

You went straight to the kitchen to whip up their orders while you kept a close eye on the suprise that you still kept hidden.

After a flurry of activity in the kitchen, you finally finished preparing their orders. With a warm smile, you approached the table, balancing the plates with practiced ease. "Alright, you two, no more frowning," you chided playfully, setting the dishes down one by one. "Dig in! You must be starving by now."

As you arranged the plates, you added with a wink, "Oh, and I threw in some Strawberry Creampuffs—compliments of the house. Consider it a little treat for my favorite duo."

Paimon's eyes widened to the size of saucers, her tiny hands already reaching for the pastries before you could even finish speaking. "Wait, for free?! (Reader), you're the best!" she squealed, clutching a creampuff like it was a treasure. She took a bite, and her face lit up with pure delight. "Mmm! These are heavenly! Paimon could eat a hundred of these!" She floated in the air, twirling with joy, her excitement infectious.

The Traveler chuckled softly, shaking their head at Paimon's antics. "Thank you, (Reader). You really didn’t have to, but we appreciate it." They picked up a creampuff, their expression softening as they took a bite. "These are amazing. You’ve outdone yourself again."

You leaned against the table, watching them enjoy the food with a satisfied grin. Seeing their smiles was always worth the effort.

"Alright, alright, take your time eating," you said with a soft chuckle, stepping back from the table. "I'll be in the kitchen if you need anything." With a warm smile, you turned and made your way to the back, your mind already buzzing with excitement.

You had a surprise for them—a special thank-you gift. Since the door doesn't appear on the weekends, you’d spent the last few days preparing an extravagant feast. It was your way of showing gratitude for their constant companionship and the joy they brought into your life. The portions were enormous, enough to last them for days—or, knowing Paimon, maybe just one. You smirked to yourself, wondering how they’d even carry it all. But then again, the Traveler’s magical inventory space was a blessing in disguise, so you’d gone all out without a second thought.

Your café had been thriving lately, with a steady stream of wealthy customers placing large commission orders. The influx of money was more than welcome, though the workload was starting to wear on you. Juggling the demands of your high-profile clients and the everyday crowd was exhausting. Maybe it was time to hire some help. The idea struck you like a bolt of inspiration, and you quickly pulled out your phone to jot it down in your notes. Hire workers. Soon. 3 workers perhaps.

But for now, your focus was on the present—literally. You glanced at the array of pastries you’d set aside earlier. Paimon’s delighted squeals from the dining area echoed in your mind, and you couldn’t help but smile. Why not add a little more? You had plenty of leftovers from today, and serving them tomorrow didn’t sit right with you. Giving them to the Traveler and Paimon was a far better option than tossing them out. Besides, their magical inventory would keep everything fresh indefinitely.

With that decided, you grabbed a large container and began filling it with an assortment of treats. A half Greek Yogurt Tangerine Cake, eclairs, chou à la crème, flan, lemon tarts, and egg tarts—each one carefully placed inside. The container was soon overflowing with a colorful variety of pastries, each one a testament to your hard work and creativity. You left a little bit to yourself to eat at home later as a good job treat.

You stepped back, admiring your handiwork. This was more than just food; it was a token of your friendship, a way to say thank you in the sweetest way possible.

Stepping back into the dining area, you found the duo slumped in their seats, looking thoroughly satisfied—and perhaps a little too full. Their slightly bloated appearances were hard to miss, and you couldn’t help but burst into laughter.

“Oh deary me, you two look like you’ve been through a feast fit for a king!” you teased, walking over to clear the plates. As you picked them up, you noticed, not for the first time, that not a single crumb remained. It was impressive, though not as shocking as the first time you’d witnessed their bottomless appetites. Back then, you’d been utterly floored. Now, it was just another reminder of how much they adored your cooking.

The Traveler’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment, but they quickly recovered, flashing you a sheepish grin. “Well, what can we say? Your cooking is to die for, (Reader).” Their tone was smooth, almost suave, and you couldn’t help but chuckle at their attempt to save face.

“Thank you, Traveler,” you replied warmly, stacking the plates neatly. “Coming from you, that means a lot.”

Just then, the Traveler reached into their pocket and pulled out a small pouch, placing it on the table with a soft clink. “Oh, right! Here’s our payment. As always, it’s worth every mora.”

You picked up the pouch, feeling the satisfying weight of the mora inside. “Thank you, dear customer,” you said with a playful bow, tucking the pouch into your apron pocket. “Your patronage is always appreciated.”

“Oh, right! Stay there for a moment—don’t come into the kitchen,” you said, holding up a hand to stop them as you hurried back to the kitchen with the stack of plates. Paimon and the Traveler exchanged curious glances, their usual routine of following you to the front bar momentarily interrupted. Reluctantly, they took their usual seats, waiting patiently but with growing curiosity.

From the kitchen, they heard a faint grunt, followed by the sound of something heavy being shifted. Paimon’s ears perked up, and the Traveler leaned forward, concern flickering across their face. “(Reader), are you okay? Do you need help?” they called out, halfway out of their seats.

“No need, no need!” you replied, your voice slightly strained but cheerful. “This thing’s just a bit heavier than I expected, but I’ve got it under control!” Moments later, you emerged from the kitchen, carefully balancing two large, cloth-covered containers in your arms. You set them down gently on the counter in front of them, your face flushed but triumphant. “Wait, there’s still more. Don’t touch them yet!” you warned, holding up a finger before darting back into the kitchen.

When you returned, you were carrying yet another cloth-covered container—this one filled with the assortment of pastries you’d prepared earlier. Paimon’s eyes widened, and the Traveler tilted their head, their curiosity now fully piqued.

“(Reader), what are these? They smell amazing—and they look huge!” the Traveler asked, their voice tinged with awe.

With a dramatic flourish and a smug grin, you pulled the cloths away, revealing the contents. “Ta-da! This is my surprise gift for you! Are you shocked?” you announced, clearly pleased with yourself.

Paimon gasped, floating closer to inspect the containers. “Wait, these three ginormous things are for us? Paimon loves them already! But, uh… what exactly are they?” She scratched her head, her tiny face scrunched up in confusion.

You chuckled, crossing your arms as you leaned against the counter. “Well, since we can’t meet on weekends, I thought I’d send you off with enough food to last you a while. Consider it a thank-you for always keeping me company. There’s a bit of everything in there—main dishes, snacks, and, of course, plenty of pastries for someone with a particular sweet tooth.” You shot Paimon a knowing look, and she beamed, already reaching for one of the containers.

The Traveler’s eyes softened, a grateful smile spreading across their face. “(Reader), you really didn’t have to go through all this trouble… but thank you. This means a lot to us.”

“Nuh-uh!” you said sharply, your eyes narrowing as you caught the Traveler’s hand reaching for the pouch of mora at their waist. “It’s on the house! The payment you’ve already given is more than enough to cover all of this,” you insisted, waving your hands emphatically.

And it was the truth. Thanks to the connections you’d built with your high-profile regulars, you’d found a discreet way to convert mora into gold bars, bypassing the government’s watchful eyes (fanfiction logic, of course). Those gold bars had opened doors to even more lucrative opportunities, leaving you with more than enough wealth to afford this generous gesture.

“But—” the Traveler started, their brow furrowed in protest.

“No buts!” you interrupted, placing a hand over their mouth to silence them. “That’s final,” you said firmly, though your eyes sparkled with warmth. “Besides, this is my way of saying thank you—for your companionship, for listening to me rant about rude customers, and for always brightening my day. You two mean a lot to me, and this is the least I can do.”

Paimon, who had been floating nearby with a pastry already in hand, grinned from ear to ear. “See, Traveler? (Reader) says it’s fine, so stop being so stubborn! Paimon’s not complaining about free food!”

The Traveler sighed, their resistance melting away as they shook their head with a soft chuckle. “Alright, alright. We’ll accept your gift—but only because you’re being so insistent.”

You laughed, stepping back and crossing your arms with a satisfied smile. “Good! Now, make sure to enjoy every bite. And don’t even think about trying to sneak mora into my apron later—I’ll know!”

The Traveler simply smiled at you, a look of helpless gratitude in their eyes, and nodded in understanding. They knew better than to argue with you when you were this determined.

The café was soon filled with the sound of laughter and lively conversation as the three of you shared one last chat before it was time for them to leave. The warmth of the moment made the impending goodbye a little easier to bear.

Finally, Paimon floated toward the door, her tiny hands waving excitedly. “Goodbye, (Reader)! We’ll see you again in two days! Make sure to take care of yourself, okay?” she chirped, her voice brimming with genuine affection.

Beside her, the Traveler stood, balancing the three large cloth-covered containers with ease. They gave you a nod, their expression soft but resolute. “We’ll be back soon. Don’t overwork yourself,” they added, their tone gentle but firm.

You smiled, feeling a bittersweet tug in your chest. “Same to you two. Safe travels, and don’t let Paimon eat everything in one sitting!” you teased, earning a playful pout from the floating fairy.

Paimon reached for the door and swung it open, revealing the sprawling landscape of Guili Plains. In the distance, the towering silhouette of Wangshu Inn stood against the horizon, bathed in the golden light of the setting sun.

You waved as they stepped through the doorway, their figures framed by the breathtaking view of their world. “See you soon!” you called out, your voice carrying a mix of fondness and anticipation.

The door closed softly behind them, leaving the café quiet once more. You stood there for a moment, the warmth of their presence lingering in the air, before turning back to the kitchen with a smile. Two days would pass quickly, and you already couldn’t wait to see them again.

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Taglist:

@kameyo-kumo @esthelily @haru-tofuu @udretlnea @shining-nebula2000 @ifeellikejumpingoffacliff @resident-cryptid @allblognamesaretakenlikereally @leilakaro @stvrbrighttt @chericia @evaline-ethan @ra404 @mmmhyperfixation @original-person @chaoticfivesworld @lexal-amber-rose @floofeh-purpi @time-shardz @animeobsessed56 @fantasyhopperhea @yuan1819

I'm sorry to those in the taglists whose names didn't tag them. Tumblr doesn't want them. I even double checked your accounts.

[bttrflybb]

nobody, not even the rain. ♡ྀི variety.

summary: helping your lover through a panic attack

feat. obito uchiha, kakashi hatake (art cred)

cw: jonin!obito, panic attack description, blood, reader accidentally nicks themself, ptsd, my sweet traumatized boys... i just want them to CRY. not proofread im just emo and need to get this out

obito uchiha

obito rouses from his sleep, wincing at the agony starting to seep through his veins like poison replacing blood. the startup is slow, but the realization of what’s happening snaps obito completely out of his groggy state.

he hates this. he hates being so powerless as the hand of panic grasps firmly at his heart. he wants to roll his eyes and scoff, he knows he’s fine- but he’s not going to be once his chest starts to hurt and breaths start to burn. once white-hot pain sears the entirety of his right side. once images flash in his eyes against his consent. it’s so frustrating not being okay.

your warmth makes itself known as you stir in response to his rousing and he apologizes in his head for waking you- verbally saying it is unfortunately not an option with how taut his jaw and throat are. he can’t move to grasp for you and ground himself at all. you’re right next to him, your back to his right, and somehow he’s still alone in this- and there’s that image of his friend going cold in his arms. alone as he held her body.

out comes the first wheeze, a full body tremble following it. it’s getting bad. fast.

“‘bito?” you rasp, sleep coating your voice. you’d fallen asleep in his embrace with his chest against your back, but his heat is missing now and you’re needy for it back. you push yourself up to lay on your other side, assuming he’d just shifted and ended up rolling over in his sleep. out comes a second wheeze and your eyes finally open, catching his rigid body- frozen in place and slightly quivering like you’d just found him beneath the snow.

oh, your obito. your heart shatters at the sight. your kind worried eyes find his, one shut and the other staring into nothing. you know what this is.

“obito, honey.” you hum, trying to bury the shaky concern that still manages to make it’s way through your words. “breathe.” your free palm settles on his chest, the other propping yourself up as you sit mermaid style beside him. another wheeze and a shudder, this time followed by a weak whimper as he finds your tender gaze and locks his eye with yours. “there you are. just breathe, my love.” your face softens, masking how sick you are with worry. “need you to breathe.”

it’s hard. it’s so hard. he swallows and chokes on nothing before he takes in a gasp of air and sobs it out. it’s so hard, but he’s doing it for you. “oh good job angel, that’s my boy. so proud of you.” you release the breath you had been (accidentally) holding with him, sighing in relief as you praise him and dip to give him a small kiss on his forehead. your hand soothes the entirety of his chest, side to side as you try to ground him with the stimulation. he’s breathing- like metal has pierced his lungs and blood begins to drown him from the inside- but breathing, nonetheless.

you lift yourself to kneel, freeing your other hand so you can wipe the tears building up before they get the chance to spill while still providing that gentle stimulation. it breaks your heart, seeing your strong, cheerful boy fight something so overwhelming. all you can do is hum praises and assurances and offer delicate touches like you’re trying to coax out a wounded puppy.

his head shakily leans into your touch, still holding your gaze as his eyebrows furrow into a sorrowful expression. his mouth moved to try and choke something out, but all that comes is a sob that wracked his entire body. he lifts his arms, heavy as water, and weakly grasps at the sleeves and fabric of your nightgown.

"hey, you're okay. i got you, sweetheart. you got me."

it’s awkward, but you manage to position yourself and lean down to pull him into an embrace, snaking your arms beneath his upper back and letting him squeeze you closer to him.

his cries are uneven, mixing with periods of hyperventilating and repeated sobs and sniffles, apologies, and unintelligible babbles eventually making their way into the mix.

"i-i'm- fuck- s-sorry," he chokes through tears and strained breaths, fingers knitting into the fabric of your back and he buries his face into the crook of your neck. it was terrifying, being so far away from you. even when you were right there.

"you're okay, obito. don't be sorry, sweet boy. you're okay." you hum, swallowing your own tears down. you wanna say sorry. you want to take all his pain away. you want to take all of his burdens on yourself.

"s-s-sorry- i'm s-s-so- hahh- sorry-" he weeps between convulsive gasps, and you're not sure if he's apologizing to you or just sorry. guilt, shame, and regret coiled around his heart like razorwire and tightened- he's yet to exit the woods of this episode.

slowly, you lift him up, whispering encouragements so this new position can hopefully ease the anguish weighing him down. he's upright now, still in your arms. both of your palms settle upon his face, pads wiping tears away as you hold his head- so heavy with grief. his hands are settled around your hips and thighs as you sit crossed between his legs, loosely squeezing and soothing his own pads on the fabric barring him from your skin. the two of you settled into a slow sway from side to side as you hummed a tune, embracing him and soothing your hands up and down his back as he sniffled into your shoulder.

you were so understanding, so loving, part of him wanted to reject it. he would if it were anyone other than you. you made it too hard. you made it too difficult to reject the fact that he is cherished.

"m'sorry." he hums, moving his hands to wrap around the small of your back. "hush, angel. you're okay." you whispered, still gently swaying with him. "thank you. i love you." the phrase slipped from his lips so naturally. he sounded wounded. he sounded like a kid. it was so sweet, so tender, so vulnerable.

"i love you too, obito. always."

kakashi hatake

kakashi ignores the feeling creeping up his limbs like it’ll go away. like it won’t sense the fear in his heart as his eyes blur and static fills his ears. like the panic isn’t a predator, lurking until he least expects it. the panic won’t smell his anxiety worsening as the first signs hit him.

you’d cut yourself quite badly while preparing dinner, misjudging where your fingers were before you pushed with all your might through a vegetable.

you were a medical ninja, you saw blood all the time, but something about it being your own- it always got you. like a nurse with a fear of needles or a surgeon with a fear of knives. your entire body was hot and prickly and you could only call to kakashi once before you fell to your knees, breathing as stable as you could. how embarrassing, you thought.

kakashi was quick to your side, bringing you back to reality and hoisting you up to wash the blood off so you could heal yourself. you were being a bit of a baby, you admit, at some point, the real weakness in your knees mixed with the exaggerated bat of your eyelashes as you asked him to ‘hold me uppp’.

it was a quick fix, but it was deep enough to scar and leave you a bit woozy for the rest of the night. you parted from kakashi to discard the bloodied vegetables and find something else to fix up for the two of you. kakashi was left in front of the running water of the sink, staring at his blood-stained hands.

fog starts to cloud around him and he’s cursing under his breath, knitting his eyes together and bracing like it’ll pass over him. why now? so stupid. blood on his hands, the sound of water, and the now absence of your presence. all keys to the lock that hid his vulnerabilities, now open as it’s scent trail is being tracked by his past.

blood is in the water and sharks of guilt and fear are hot on kakashi’s tail. there is no hiding, no matter how still and silent he is.

“‘kashi?” you hum after the first call of his name went unanswered. you pushed the fridge doors closed and looked back at the sink on the other side of the kitchen island, his back still facing yours and water still running. no answer, again.

“kakashiii, you there?” your eyes tracked his still figure as you rounded the island, slowing the closer you got to him. he is really still. another call, and another. you’re a foot to his side and he’s still yet to even move his eyes towards you.

you scan his rigid figure, noticing how tight his eyes are shut and the quickening of his breath. “kakashi, talk to me.” you realize what’s going on, shutting the water off. his hands were long clean, but they still shook beneath the water like they were stained with your blood.

his breathing becomes audible as it turns to panting and mixes with the crackle of his vocal cords. his frame stays stable as his arms tremble like twigs, eyes opening and darting to both of his palms- back and forth.

“kakashi.” you call, grasping his wrists and turning him to face you. “kakashi, baby, breathe.”

he doesn’t realize what’s happening until he’s on the floor with you and his own cry- the agonized groan that crawls it’s way out of his throat- is bringing him back to reality. his hands are in yours and you’re both on your knees in front of the other.

the freeze response has passed and now he’s stuck between fight and flight- but as emotions come crashing down on him like waves without a break between, all he can choose is give up.

the fragile thread holding him together has snapped and he’s sobbing, leaning into you as you pull him into an embrace. his arms are heavy hanging over his legs like sandbags, too weak to reciprocate. the nuzzle into your neck is symbolic of a grasp to keep you to him, and you hear it loud and clear.

“you’re okay, kakashi. you’re okay.”

“n-not- fuck- bad.”

“i know, angel. i’m so sorry. you’re gonna be okay, i'm right here with you, kakashi.”

your heart pangs at his rejection of your comfort. the way he hiccups his words out between gasps, the admission that this is a bad one.

kakashi had panic attacks around you before, but it was only ever dissociation coupled with hyperventilating, never outright sobbing.

something about it being your real blood and that situation flashing in his mind at the same time- it was just too much. he promised your closest friends and family that he’d protect you- what if- fuck.

he's completely in his own mind. this isn't real, he knows that. he knows you're right here, holding him, but he can't control it. he can't control the tears spilling and can't control the pace at which he breathes- and it's only making him panic more.

what if this was real? what if you were wounded and he had to deal with your blood on his hands? what if you were gone? and it happened under his watch? would he react this same way? would he freeze and fail? more voices join the already peaking chorus and he's never felt more pathetic.

one of your hands settles in his hair and slightly scratch in an attempt to bring him back to you, soft whispers and hums of reassurance still spilling from you as you gently squeeze and run your nails over the exposed skin of his arms and nape of his neck. for the most part it's just heaving and weak whimpers, but every time a choked cry wrestles its way out of his chest you coo and offer a chaste kiss to his shoulder, cheek, or scalp. "i know, honey. it's okay, it'll be okay, just breathe with me."

it's heartbreaking, such a reserved man so broken before you. this is him.

his breathing evens out with yours after you coach him through it, and finally, his hands are able to move and grasp at the thighs they were resting on. "there you are, my sweet boy." you sigh, cupping his cheek to pull into a kiss and create space between the two of you so you can get a good look at his face. his eyes are raw, eyebags more pronounced and pigmented than usual, but they still open and look up at you with that same loving- yet so frail- gaze.

you can't help the smile that graces your face- can't help the sadness in it. "hi, sweetheart." you hum, soothing your thumbs over his tired eyes and flushed cheeks.

he looks scared. eyes darting around, still looking into yours, just trembling. "you're okay, baby. promise. i'm right here. just stay with me."

the two of you sync, taking ten-second long breaths you led him through. he's tired, you can tell. still, he forces his arms to rise and embraces you this time.

relief washes over you as his large frame fully takes you in, a small giggle coming from you as your hands settle on the small of his back.

"thank you." he murmurs into your shoulder, taking another deep breath. you smile. "don't thank me."

"still gonna." he huskily chuckles, pressing a small kiss atop your shoulder. "don't like doing this alone. you..." he breathes again, trying to regain some composure as his voice starts to tremble, "you make it easier. don't know what i'd do without you."

he can't see the ways your eyes gloss at his shaky confession, but he can feel the way your grip tightens and the sniffle that echoes in the silence.

"i'll always be here, kakashi. promise."

kakashi's never been good at saying 'i love you'. it always got stuck behind his teeth, some mental block barring him from reciprocating the words. very rarely would he say it first, so the hushed whisper of, "i love you," into your neck means the most to you.

"i love you too." "more than anything."

[salaimoi]

𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒅𝒇𝒍𝒐𝒘𝒆𝒓 — 𝒃𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒆 𝒆𝒊𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒉

[˚୨୧⋆. 𝒔𝒚𝒑𝒏𝒐𝒔𝒊𝒔] after his wife’s death, you became toji fushiguro’s only reliant shoulder. however, unbeknownst to you, your deceased friend’s ex-husband had ulterior motives in mind when he began to pursue you.

[˚୨୧⋆. 𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆] angst

[˚୨୧⋆. 𝒘𝒄] 2.k

[˚୨୧⋆. 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔] yellow is reader’s pov, blue is toji’s pov. it might sound repetitive and rushed bc i just wanted to get this out of my drafts. i know billie’s song came out like ages ago so it wouldn’t make sense to release this any later than it already is

𓂃 ོ𓂃 Things fall apart, and time breaks your heart. I wasn't there, but I know.

toji always reassured you a million times; he wasn’t heartbroken over his split with his ex-wife, not in the slightest. he rarely opened up about his past, let alone his previous relationships. and yet, deep down, you knew he hadn’t properly processed their rupture.

the most he ever disclosed to you was the fact that there was nothing left to salvage in his old relationship — so he moved on, and so did she. 

but was that the entire truth? 

you noticed the prolonged glances he would take when opening his wallet. the empty look behind his eyes when he stared down at his naked ring finger. even the faint sniffling at night that he tried convincing you were nothing more than allergies. but you knew he was silently mourning her. 

her – the real love of his life.

She was my girl. I showed her the world, but fell out of love and we both let go. ⋆࿐

i made it my life goal to tend to her happiness. the only reason for my very existence was to see that she had everything she could ever want. hell, that’s the only thing i’ve ever been good at.

i never kept anything from her — except my line of work. i couldn’t bring myself to tell her the man she fell in love with was a deadbeat mercenary who bathed in the blood of others for a living. as much as i tried to protect her from that side of my life, she eventually went digging her nose where it wasn’t needed. 

the aftermath of her discovering the truth about my hidden agenda came at the price of our relationship. 

she couldn’t withstand the constant pain of being by my side any longer, to turn in bed only to see a bastard by her side. she wholeheartedly believed that the man that now stood before her was no longer the one she fell in love with. 

somehow i didn’t blame her.

She was cryin’ on my shoulder. All I could do was hold her.

i still remember it so vividly — how her body trembled against mine like a leaf. tears coursed down her cheeks as she clung to me like a lifeline, seeking comfort in the midst of her anguish. as selfish as it may sound, the weight of her sorrow became almost too much to bear. 

i couldn't offer excuses or apologies; these were empty gestures that wouldn't alleviate the agony she felt at that moment. instead, i stood there, silently holding her, offering my presence as the only comfort.

the guilt washed over me in waves as i cradled her, feeling her heart shatter a little more with each sob. i knew i was the cause of her pain, yet i couldn’t tell her the whole truth. all i could do was hold her, wishing i could undo the past.

𓂃 ོ𓂃 Only made us closer until July.

the moment he began pursuing you when enough time had gone by, it immediately felt wrong. he was your friend’s ex-husband, after all. toji had never looked at you twice before, and now, he suddenly had lustful eyes for you? 

you eventually conceded because you wanted to be there for him, giving him the benefit of the doubt that he had no ulterior motives. but one way or another, every conversation at dinner circled back to her. 

“oh she loved mashed potatoes.” 

“fun fact, she had a strawberry allergy.” 

“did you know this brand of vanilla ice cream was her favorite?”

and as much as it pained you, you became a reliant ear for him — someone who would listen to all the little details he swore he had forgotten the day she divorced him. even if every bone in your body wanted to run in the opposite direction, far, far away from him, you stayed. 

maybe all he needs is time, you told yourself.

right?

Now I know that you love me. You don't need to remind me. I should put it all behind me, shouldn't I? ⋆࿐

your affection always remained a constant in my turbulent world, like a gentle rain that falls softly even amidst the storm. but the longer the internal storm went on, the more ravenous the regret and guilt raged on. i found myself unable to fully comprehend the depth of your love for me, but deep down, i knew that your love was unwavering. 

i knew that in order to truly move on, i had to let go of the past and embrace the present; you represented that fresh start i so urgently needed. but the thought of her still lingered, a constant reminder of what once was but should no longer be. it was as if i was being consumed by my own memories, unable to break free. as if a part of me still longed for the past. 

the weight of my conflicting emotions burdened my every waking moment, leading me to push you away with no explanation. feelings for the both of you coexisted, and i couldn't fully commit to one without betraying the other. every time i looked at you, guilt would wash over me for putting you through this hell.

 likewise, every time i looked at her picture, i felt like a traitor for ever moving on as soon as i did.

But I see her in the back of my mind all the time. Just like a fever, like I’m burning alive, like a sign. ⋆࿐

beneath the mask of indifference, i was plagued by shame. it was hard to accept that the girl who once consumed my thoughts was no longer part of my life, and looking at you, i realized that your love knew no bounds; that wasn’t enough for me. 

i hadn’t stopped loving her. 

it felt like a fever that never broke. an unrelenting heat that burned deep inside me, reminding me of the girl who dwelled in the back of my mind all those years ago.

every word about my past, every little detail about my ex, felt like a confession at church – a church where my sins would be revealed to the world. 

talking about my past wouldn’t magically absolve me of my past, now would it? redemption was never an option for me, and i wasn’t asking for it. instead of trying to cleanse myself of my history, i decided to leave it all behind like a forgotten box in an attic. 

𓂃 ོ𓂃 Well, good things don't last, and life moves so fast. I'd never ask who was better 'cause she couldn't be more different from me.

he told you to let it go — to let it die like she did that fateful day. it was no use keeping her memory alive, he said, but if that was the case, why did he take her last name months later? 

not to mention they spent years together — even conceived a child together; a child he named after her, but that detail never seemed to make its way to you. 

everyone told you to stop comparing yourself, but how could you not? she was everything you weren’t even after death: soft spoken, graceful, gentle, patient, loving. 

you didn’t dare ask such a redundant question so you didn’t voice it, but your continuous comparison to her was eating you alive; toji noticed it. you hadn’t slept with him in almost a month, internally afraid he’ll blurt out her name instead of yours.

𓂃 ོ𓂃 And I know that you love me. you don't need to remind me.

he went out of his way to send more ‘i love u’ messages than before; they seemed forced, just like your relationship. 

she had previously informed you of things that found their way to the most profound recesses of your mind. you didn’t flinch at the time, because you were mesmerized that he did such things for her, but it affected you later on. 

you learned bitter truths that made you doubt his love for you. and when you finally realized he didn’t do any of the things she spoke of, it dawned on you; toji didn’t love you. 

not like he loved her. 

𓂃 ོ𓂃 You say no one knows you so well but every time you touch me, I just wonder how she felt.

you’d stay up late at night countless times wondering what toji’s affectionate touch actually felt like. it was something only she ever knew, and you’d do anything to get a semblance of that feeling. 

but it was obvious no one knows the real him — not like she did.

despite everything, you decided to give this relationship one last try by booking a hotel for the both of you. everything inside you screamed that it was a horrible idea, but you did it anyway.

𓂃 ོ𓂃 Valentine's Day, cryin’ in the hotel. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me, so I kept it to myself.

and he finally did it. he mistakenly blurted out her name on the most romantic day of the year. 

“i-i’m sorry.” toji rushed to apologize, grabbing a hold of your arm so you wouldn’t walk out the door.

“I wonder, do you see HER in the back of your mind, in my eyes!?” was the only thing you could force yourself to reply in that moment, breaking away from his grip in the process.  

“i do,” toji dejectedly admits with a hint of sorrow behind his voice. or was it indignity?

he pauses, absentmindedly digging his nails into the tender flesh of his balled up fist as he grapples with his conscience. all along, he knew the day to finally hold himself accountable would come, but he didn’t think it would’ve been like this. 

his mind involuntarily wandered, and in the depths of your gaze, he saw glimpses of his deceased wife — a ghost that lingered in the back of his subconscious even after all this time.  

memories of her flood his mind, and for a brief moment, the both of you merge into one — his past and present colliding into one. the familiar shade of your irises, the identical shine behind them, the bright glimmer of light behind them when you smiled — all of it brought a pang of bittersweet nostalgia to him. 

silence overtook the room like a storm, and with it, your heart. so he does see a reflection of his dead wife when he stares into your eyes — the eyes he promised captivated him to no bounds. 

“was all of it a lie, then?” 

“no.” 

“how was it not a lie, toji?”

“it wasn’t a lie, doll-“ 

“don’t call me that.” you interrupt him with words almost sharp enough to cut him, a slight tremble behind your voice. 

tears immediately welled up in the delicate corners of your eyes, threatening to spill over at any moment. his expression softened at the sight; however, his reluctance to approach you remained. he knew he was the reason behind your hurt, just like he was the cause of hers all that time ago. history does indeed repeat itself, doesn’t it? 

he wished he could find the words that would help ease your pain — the exhaustion and heartache you felt. to take it all away with a mere sentence, that would be quite incredible. but that’s not how life works.

“okay.” he finally whispered, inhaling a deep breath in a mix of defeat and remorse before continuing. “i promise none of it was a lie; i meant every word. i really meant it when i said i adored your eyes…” 

he dry swallows a couple of times, as if doing so would suppress the sorrow lodged in his throat. his eyes darted around the room, as to not meet your own out of the unbearable guilt that simply refused to be consumed. 

the hesitation behind his subtle actions was a telltale that there was a ‘but’ hidden underneath the surface-level flattery. and with an equal amount of incertitude and delay behind your own words, alongside with a hoarse voice, you brace yourself for the moment he finally admits this so-called love of yours was nothing but an illusion.

“but?” 

“…but they’re not her eyes.” 

part 2 here.

[commanderyes]

The Commander Says Goodbye

I’m not going to lie, I’m extremely anxious as i’m writing this, out of what these news could mean to a lot of people, and my heart feels heavy enough it could drop down my ribcage any minute from now and squish all my other organs. But I’ve been dancing around this topic for a long time now, and I think i’ve finally reached a point where i can’t ignore it anymore, for my own sake.

I hereby announce Commander Yes has come to an end.

As I’ve mentioned plenty of times before, here and to many other people, when I began this comic all the way back in 2018 I was in a really bad, really low place in my life in every sense of the word, and it was a spur-of-the moment decision to cheer myself up, because Path of Fire had just released and my enjoyment of the game had reached fever pitch and I had been playing Guild Wars 2 alone since as far as launch, and none of my other friends had ever really gotten into it. I guess I just, dunno, cried out into the big maelstrom of the community, one voice amidst millions, because i wanted SOMEBODY to look at what i did and revel in the nerdery with me.

And somehow the snowball began to roll and people wanted more and more of what I could do, and I was being actively reached out to, and, well, some time after that I landed my first ever job, I discovered a lot of things about myself, and I found myself in communities that welcomed me with open arms, and many of the people in there have since become among the best friends I could’ve possibly encountered, kindred souls who i’ve shared joys and sorrows for many years and who I can’t imagine living without anymore.

And all the while I kept making the comics, and with every entry posted every week I’d keep having people stopping to comment on them, and whether they were dumb jokes or personal takes on the story, they’d all share how much what I do kept hitting them in the kokoro, and to this day whenever I play anywhere in the game I still get people who recognize me and thank me for doing what I do. It was wonderful, it IS wonderful, and seeing that response motivated me to keep going, because what did still mattered to people, out there.

But I did always say I planned to keep doing these comics until I ran out of energy for them, and I think i’ve finally reached that point.

Because ever since I actually landed that job I’m exhausted and sleep-deprived every other day, so much so that I only have time to work on the comic on saturdays and sundays, and it gets harder and harder to just sit and draw, and at that point it was just more work, and while I still enjoy and play Guild Wars 2 a lot, it no longer consumes my time and attention like I’ve used to and i’ve been having fun with more personal projects, and honestly the direction the story is taking these days does not sit right with me and it’s hard to find inspiration in that, and this might be borderline selfish but every year I find people care less and less about the comics and it really takes a hit to you motivation when hardly anybody responds after you’ve spent a whole weekend trying to squeeze a five-page comic out.

And, well, I have been doing these for six years straight, and I think that’s a good run. I’m tired, and ready to move on, at long last. Let it be someone else’s turn.

But that’s the beautiful thing about this community, isn’t it? Even if I’m hanging up the hat, there are a whole lot of fantastic artists out there, as we speak, still cranking out works of art, deserving of all the attention they can get. And think of all the artists yet to come! For every story that ends, another story is just about to begin!

The world keeps on spinning, one way or another.

I’ll be closing my patreon shortly after this, but the reddit archives and tumblr blog shall remain for people to browse whenever they feel like (or until they both go in flames, i guess, what social media isn’t about to these days)

I still don’t think I ever was that much of a big deal, but all the same, to everyone who’s ever supported me and helped me be the person I am right now, to everyone who’s been there from the beginning, to all the devs of this game that has captured us for nearly a decade now, to all my fellow players and artists out there

Thank you.

See you out there, fellow commanders. Still the stars find their way.

[whitedarkmoonflower]

Feeling you 2

Pairing: Sihtric x reader (female)

Authors note: this was planned as one shot, but the story doesn't let go of me. So as promised Part 2 is ready and there will be Part 3 coming soon if nothing extraordinary happens. You know me already - if there is not a healthy portion of angst it's probably not my story 😉

Warnings: angst, heartbreak

Word Count: 3,6 K

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Tags: @sihtricfedaraaahvicius@hb8301@zillahvathek@alexagirlie@gemini-mama @verenahx@mysteriouslydeafeningwerewolf @willowbrookesblog

If you want to be added to the tag list - write to me.

Eanflaed's voice, both comforting and irritating, pierced through your consciousness, pulling you back to the dimly lit main room of the old alehouse. “You are dreaming again,” she said. Your friend busied herself at the counter, cluttered with empty ale mugs, and leaned forward on her elbows, waiting for you to wash and refill them.

“You need to put an end to this”, she insisted, striving to capture your attention, though she knew you were hardly in a state to listen. Persistent as always, Eanflaed never ceased trying. You knew she meant only good for you and she was right, and you loved her for that with all your heart. Eanflaed had always been the bastion of reason, a reliable friend in the gravest situations. Someone you deeply trusted.

“You realise he won't come back to you. We've all been through it. Falling in love with a client can’t have a happy ending,” she added, placing her hand on yours, compelling you to pause and meet her gaze.

“I know, and I’m not in love,” you mumbled, averting your eyes as a surge of warmth tinged your cheeks, “I just can't shake him from my mind. It's foolish, but I can't help it. Sometimes, I wish for them to return, and for him to simply overlook me, choosing another for the night. Then, at least, I'd be certain he's forgotten me. It would hurt, but I'd finally know it's over. I'd understand that there was never anything between us in the first place."

"Why are you doing this to yourself?" Eanflaed's voice softened. "When I asked you to hump him, I was just trying to help you get over it, to move forward. He seemed so sweet and somehow lost and I thought that maybe he could snap you out of this funk you've been in since that bastard... well, you know." Eanflaed's words halted abruptly under your stern gaze. "I'm sorry," she murmured, releasing your hand.

You finished filling the mugs, ale frothing at the brim, and Eanflaed quickly picked them up, heading back to the few guests at the tables. You let your palms glide over the rugged and worn surface of the old, cracked wooden counter, feeling its grooves and notches, the sensation under your fingers strangely calming. Noticing an ale splash, you grabbed a rag to clean it up. Keeping busy always helped you stay grounded, stopped your mind from wandering too much. It was a quiet evening. 

It had been half a year since you last saw Sihtric, but for some reason, you couldn't get him out of your head. You just couldn't shake off the memories - that soothing feeling of his warm body pressed against yours, his strong arms wrapped around your naked frame, holding you tight as if he was afraid you'd disappear if he let go, that gentle touch of his lips on your neck, the tickling sensation of his breath against your skin. But above all his big, expressive eyes, the look in them tinged with inexplicable sorrow mixed with youthful eagerness and goodness were etched in your memory. 

He had asked your permission to stay with you, even though he knew he didn’t have to, as Uhtred had paid for the whole night. He had carefully tucked the blanket around both of you, his legs entwining with yours, enveloping you in his presence and leaving no space between your bodies. You could still almost feel his fingers tracing a gentle path from your shoulder down to your palm, interlacing with yours as he whispered a soft “Thank you,” in your ear, and his steady heartbeat coupled with his even breathing had lulled you into a deep, dreamless sleep for the first time in two years. 

Morning had arrived with loud knocks and Uhtred's brusque voice demanding the horses be readied. Startled, Sihtric leapt from the bed, his cheeks colouring as he scrambled to dress, muttering under his breath while struggling with the stubborn laces of his breeches.

You had watched him from the bed's warmth, a strange lump forming in your throat. With each passing moment you realised that this was the end. The end of what? Your mind was harshly insistent there hadn’t been anything. You had humped the young and handsome  warrior. It was nothing special. It was what whores do for money. And you had been in this trade far too long to know it better.

Closing your eyes, you sank back into the pillow,  the last thing you wanted was to watch Sihtric hurry out of the room. You were certain he wouldn't look back. Why would he? But just as you braced for the definitive sound of the door closing, you felt a weight settle on the edge of the bed. Your eyes fluttered open just as Sihtric's lips hesitantly brushed your forehead. 

A shy smile played on his lips. “I have to leave now,” he said, and you couldn't discern if his voice held a hint of regret or sadness, or if it was just your imagination. “Can I… will I see you again, if we… when we return?” Sihtric's voice wavered slightly with his last words. Was it due to the uncertainty of his future, or a genuine desire to see you again? You tried to speak, but no words came out, choked by the lump in your throat. Instead, you just nodded and exhaled sharply as Sihtric's lips met yours in a brief, tender kiss.

You had so much you wanted to say – to wish him luck, to say how much you enjoyed the night with him, to tell him you'd be waiting. Thoughts swirled in your mind, but your voice failed you as you watched him walk towards the door, turning for one last, lingering glance before leaving.

And since then, you waited, though you weren't sure for what. What could you expect if he did return? “Nothing,” your mind whispered, while your heart screamed, “Everything!” Deep down, you knew it was a lost cause. He had probably forgotten you the moment he left town, or at least by the next alehouse with its array of young, charming girls. Yet, each time the doors of the old alehouse creaked open and men entered, your eyes involuntarily searched among them, your heart racing with hope.

"Sigefried's here again, asking for you to join him at their table. What should I tell him?" Eanflaed queried with a teasing grin, returning with a batch of empty mugs.

"Just say I can't," you replied tersely, bracing yourself against the counter with your hands and shooting a challenging look at your friend.

"He's a decent man, and he's taken a liking to you. His wife passed away last year," Eanflaed pressed on, oblivious to your brooding expression.

"That's precisely it. Barely a year since her death and he's already on the hunt for someone new," you retorted sharply, your voice laced with disdain.

"Hey, go easy on him. He's only human, not a saint. And in his defence, he's only had eyes for you. Never once has he chosen another girl here. I think his visits are just to see you," Eanflaed whispered, trying to persuade you. "I'm not suggesting you to hump him. Just be courteous and say hello."

"I'm really not feeling up to it today," you replied, turning away and glancing towards the back chamber behind the counter. "Ealfwin, could you take over? I need a break," you called to the young girl in the doorway, who was surveying the room. She nodded in acknowledgment. You left your apron on the counter, which Ealfwin picked up as you made your way to the door.

You shivered, feeling goosebumps rise on your skin as the cool evening air brushed against you, a stark contrast to the house's cosy warmth. Rubbing your upper arms to ward off the chill, you hesitated before stepping outside. Heading towards the stables just around the corner, you found comfort in the familiar scent of fresh straw and the soft sounds of horses snorting. Leaning against one of the stable poles, you took a deep breath, soaking in the tranquil hush of the approaching night.

The sound of the main door creaking open and footsteps drawing near reached your ears. Without turning, you knew who it was.

"Uh... erm... good evening. Sorry, I hope I'm not intruding," a deep, resonant voice broke the silence as you slowly turned to face the man now beside you, his figure casting a shadow in the light spilling from the alehouse. "I was wondering... about my offer... have you thought about it?" he asked, stepping closer.

You remained silent.

"I realise it might seem rushed, but as I've mentioned, I find you very appealing, and I'm in need of a wife to manage the household and care for the children. My estate isn't large, but it's sufficient for all my needs and more. With me, you wouldn't have to worry about anything ever again," Sigefried spoke with a measured, casual tone, but his words sent a shiver down your spine.

He had calmly and logically presented his proposal a week ago, urging you to consider it. And you had given it thought. The offer was undeniably tempting – a roof over your head, freedom from the worry about which meal you have to leave out today, or about your clothing slowly turning to tatters with no money to replace them. 

It wasn't about love or affection; it was a deal, pragmatic and sensible. It was a polite way of asking you to sell yourself, and the price he offered was more than fair for someone in your position. It was an escape to a different life, one you had often dreamt of – a life filled with esteem and reasonable wealth, a life where you would be attending church on Sundays instead of scrubbing mugs in an alehouse. Yet, in this new life, under the guise of a wife's respectability, you would still be selling your body, just as before. You would still be a whore, only with a different title, and that until your dying day.

Tears began to well up in your eyes as you leaned your head against the pole, closing them. A gentle breeze played through your loose hair, and you felt your fingers tremble as you adjusted your dress, bracing yourself to the cruel truth that there was no other life for you, you were trapped in your own dreams and the cold misery of this world and there was no escape for you. 

"I... I've thought about it," you stammered, your breath quickening with each word. Sigefried reached out, taking your hand in his and gently lifting it to his lips. The confidence in his gaze made you swallow hard. He understood the appeal of his offer, assured in its allure. There was no malice in his eyes, only lust mingled with cold calculation – and that was the final push in your decision, one that had been resolute from the start. You knew this was a choice you might regret.

You parted your lips to speak, but before a word could escape, Sigefried's lips pressed forcefully against yours, eliciting a surprised gasp. You remained immobile, spellbound, as Sigefried's greedy lips moved over yours. Shock rendered you unable to respond, while a growing sense of disgust churned in your stomach, absorbing all your other senses so that you even failed to notice the figure of a young man, halted in his steps, clutching a bunch of flowers, his gaze fixed intently on you and Sigefried.

—-------------------------------------

Sihtric stood motionless, unable to avert his gaze from you and the man who had just proposed to you, now kissing you with such intensity. Time seemed to slow down as he observed you both, completely absorbed in each other, oblivious to the world around. With a concerted effort, he finally managed to look away. His eyes fell to the flowers he clutched, and a wave of heat rushed to his cheeks, flooding him with embarrassment.  Flowers. He couldn't help but think how silly it was to come here with flowers.

His hand opened, letting them slip through his fingers and tumble to the ground, while his eyes followed their swirl in the air before landing in the dirt. An urgent need to escape washed over him, to flee before the overwhelming heaviness in his chest became too much to bear. Stepping over the now-crushed blossoms, Sihtric silently turned and continued his way, each step feeling heavier than the last. Reaching the door, he paused, inhaling deeply to steady his rapid heartbeat, then pushed it open, alehouse's raucous laughter and loud voices hitting him as he entered.

Uhtred and Finan, sitting at a table at the room's far end, were easily spotted, their laughter ringing out.

"Look who's here! Our lovesick warrior," Finan greeted with a teasing smirk as Sihtric approached. "Tell us, Sihtric, did you finally confess your undying love to the alehouse beauty?"

Uhtred placed a cautious hand on Finan’s shoulder, his eyes noting the miserable, lost expression on Sihtric’s face, his cheeks flushing and fists clenching, as he slumped onto the bench, burying his face in his hands.

"I need a drink," came Sihtric's hoarse voice. He reached for the ale mug Uhtred slid towards him. "And... and I need a woman," he added, setting the now-empty mug back on the table with a thud after a couple of hearty gulps. 

Finan's face shifted from amusement to concern as he shared a worried glance with Uhtred.

"What's up? Did you see her?" Finan asked, his tone now serious.

Sihtric tried to speak, but words escaped him as the image of you and Sigefried locked in that intense kiss replayed in his mind again and again, each time like a fresh wound to his heart. He was not angry at you; he was angry at himself for being unable to forget you, to move on from you. 

He had made every effort. He had tried to erase the memory of your deep, sorrowful, yet captivating eyes, and had sought to quell his yearning for your soft, tender touch in the embrace of other women. But nothing had worked. Something about you had ensnared him from the very first moment your eyes met. There had been something so familiar yet intangible in the way you spoke to him, the way you touched him, that lingered in his memory, impossible to shake off and forget. 

He had felt safe with you and he had felt loved. Yes, loved – he had felt a genuine care and acceptance of who he was, emanating from you, a feeling he thought long forgotten and buried together with the only person who he knew had truly cared for and loved him.

He understood that he had no right to expect anything from you, but deep down, he had hoped that unique bond he had sensed – that understanding and shared feeling of each other’s unspoken pain and sorrow  – wasn't just a delusion conjured by his imagination. He longed for it to be real, mutual. This feeling had ignited a relentless flame within him, driving him forward, guiding him in the battle, consuming his thoughts and breathing new life in him. He had never experienced that feeling again, regardless of how young, beautiful, or eager to please the other girls were. This flame had driven him to return to you, it had carried him, made him fight like a madman, spurned him and given him wings to fly. 

Yet he had arrived too late. And even if he hadn't, what could he possibly offer you? How could he rival the proposal he had just overheard? You deserved the security and prosperity that the other man was offering, and he would rather cut his own hand than attempt to deprive you of it, even if it meant leaving his heart bleeding. 

"I'm such a fool," Sihtric finally managed to utter, his hand tightening around the ale mug.

"Hey, that's how it goes sometimes, lad. We tried to warn you, but you wouldn't hear it. She's an alehouse girl, Sihtric. You couldn't have seriously expected her to wait for you for half a year," Uhtred said, placing a comforting hand on his younger friend’s shoulder. 

"Thank goodness there's no shortage of beautiful women around," Finan chuckled, his smile broadening as he watched a group of giggling girls emerge from the back room, making their way to the guests. 

It was that time again and the room was full of freshly arrived warriors, signalling a potentially profitable night. 

—------------------------------------------

Your heart pounded like thunderous drum beats in your ears as you flung open the doors, bursting into the alehouse's now noisy main room.You had been away for no more than half an hour and within this short time the quiet and drowsy alehouse had morphed into a bustling hive, filled with energy and noise. 

Your hands trembled, the vivid memory of the recent moments still fresh in your mind. You had slapped Sigefried with all your might, pushed him away in revulsion, and fled. The image of his stunned, confused expression lingered in your mind – his hands reaching out to you, his voice calling your name, offering apologies. But you didn't look back; you just ran, driven by an overwhelming need to return to the safety of the alehouse, to escape his grasp, to avoid his presence. 

Your gaze swept quickly over the buzzing main room as you made your way to the counter, trying to dodge Eanflaed's sharp glare.

"What took you so long? Where have you been? We're swamped with guests. Uhtred and his men are back, can't you see? I need you here," Eanflaed's words washed over you forcefully. Your heart seemed to leap into your throat as you spun around, scanning the crowded room. Then, you saw him.

There he was, seated at the far end, his laughter cutting through the din and loud chatter, his arm comfortably draped around the waist of a girl you instantly recognised  as Ealfwin, nestled in his lap and whispering something in his ear. Your hands clutched the counter, a desperate anchor as your knees weakened.

Try as you might, you couldn't tear your eyes away. They were fixed on that familiar, handsome face, those broad shoulders, and muscular arms highlighted by his sleeveless armour, pulled in by the sound of his infectious laughter echoing through the room. 

He had changed. That insecure, shy, hunched over and sad-eyed boy, who once tried to stay hidden and mask his true strength, was gone. In his place sat a formidable warrior, exuding confidence and self-assurance, adorned with golden rings on his fingers and armbands around his wrists. 

A soft gasp slipped from your lips as you took in the sight of him, completely unaware of your presence, entirely focused on the girl in his embrace. He cupped her chin with his fingers and drew her into a fervent kiss. Ealfwin giggled, playfully withdrawing from his lips, her fingers tantalisingly trailing down his arm, while her other hand playfully tousled his hair. Sihtric chuckled again, pushed his ale mug aside, and stood up, effortlessly lifting Ealfwin onto his shoulder, making her laugh and wiggle with her feet, as he made his way towards the stairs that led to the upper chambers.

In that brief moment, as he passed by, your eyes locked with his. You felt rooted to the spot, mesmerised by those deep eyes casually glancing at you, flickering with a playful spark, yet showing no sign of recognition.

“Where’s the ale?” a gruff voice from a nearby table cut through the air, as Eanflaed nudged you sharply with her elbow.

“Snap out of it,” she whispered urgently, “Now you know…,” she trailed off, but you were no longer listening. Gasping, you spun around and hurried towards the door. You barely managed to stumble down the few steps as you felt your guts revolting and overcome by the nausea you bent over to vomit the scant contents of your stomach. Time blurred as you stood there, cold sweat beading on your forehead, your body convulsively heaving.

Feeling hands gently gathering your dishevelled hair and steadying your trembling shoulders, you realised it was Eanflaed, preventing you from collapsing to the ground.

"Come on, sweetheart, I'm so sorry," Eanflaed's soft, familiar voice grounded you. You grasped her arms, looking up into her eyes filled with compassion, your own tearful gaze brimming with gratitude as you realised your friend had simply left her bustling alehouse and its demanding guests to be by your side. Eanflaed wrapped her arms around your shoulders, holding you firmly with a strength one would never suspect from her delicate frame, as she gently guided you to sit down on the steps, settling next to you.

“You deserve so much better,” she said, her smile tinged with sadness as she tenderly tucked your dishevelled hair behind your ear. “You're too sweet and kind for this harsh world.”

"Sigefried proposed to me tonight," you managed between sobs, "And I rejected him. I slapped him when he tried to kiss me. I just couldn't stand his touch, or the thought of anyone else touching me.”

“Oh, heavens. It just keeps getting more complicated,” Eanflaed sighed. “You need to rest and get through this night. Things always seem clearer in the morning. Come, I'll get a bed ready for you. And no, you're not going home alone in this state,” she stated firmly, cutting off any weak protest you might have had. In truth, you didn’t have the strength to argue. Nodding in agreement, you allowed Eanflaed to help you to your feet and guide you gently back inside.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

[highlordofkrypton]

SUMMARY: A year after Dick is released from Jason's captivity, the tables have turned and Jason is paying off his debt to the Prince of Gotham. Dick has treated him with nothing but kindness, and on the night of King Bruce's wedding, Dick confesses his love to Jason. Jason must deal with the guilt of everything he's done to Dick and learn to forgive himself before he can love. Beware of deep, deep yearning.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I am so late, but here is my submission to @jaydick-week for Day 1: Royalty AU. There is a part 2 coming... eventually.

TW: NSFW, Implied past/referenced abuse, past SA/non-con see tags on AO3 for other warnings to see if this fic is for you!

dividers by @olenvasynyt

READ ON AO3 OR BELOW THE CUT.

It has been a year.

A year since the crown Prince of Gotham has been saved from imprisonment from the false Kingdom of Bludhaven—from Jason’s own clutches. A year since he’d beaten, degraded Dick before his warlords to prove that he has a place among them. No mercy. Only brutality. A little less than a year has passed since the tables have turned, and Dick has been handed the reins to his captivity.

Since then, Dick has not raised a hand against him. He has only offered kindness—salt in the festering wound that is his guilt. Even as his captive, Dick had taken care of him. Weak, malnourished and violated, he tended to the whipping wounds on his back for three days. Jason has yet to repay that debt, and he fucking wishes Dick would simply do unto him as as what done to him. It’d be easier to rid himself of the ache in his chest.

Since then, memories swirl in his head and he feels drunk.

I just fell for you, what is so complicated about that? Either you love me back or you don’t.

“What a stupid idiot,” Jason groans, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his palm and laying in bed. What the fuck would he know about love? All Jason knows is blood and bone. He spent his life surviving, even if it meant unmaking the things that make him human. He’s nothing like Dick. He can’t afford to love. Love opens him up to a new weakness. So what is this feeling? The well in his chest that deepens at the memory of Dick’s sorrowful eyes as he confessed to him at his father’s wedding. What a stupid romantic.

The festivities still take place in the Great Hall, but Dick had dismissed him before taking his own leave. Jason sighs. He’s terrible enough to wish for an assassination attempt on the prince. At least this way, he can undo everything that’s happened between them in death.

(But it wouldn’t erase the look in those sad blue eyes.)

Jason can’t keep doing this, sitting here and ruminating over the disaster that is his life. He tries to blame Dick and Bruce, somehow, for raising him to be soft. He can’t. All he can see is that face, and the hurt, hurt, hurt in his voice.

He gets to his feet. He has to move; he’s not running, he’s not. He makes sure to grab his sword, the only thing he considers his in this lavish castle. Jason isn’t good for anything, except fighting anyway. He makes his way down to the kitchens, slipping past the celebration of love and commitment. He catches a glimpse of the newlyweds, a King married to his general (a knight, through and through), and the vice around his heart tightens. That type of shit is possible for anyone except him.

I need a drink.

Anything but drowning in his fucking sorrows. Jason slips into the kitchens, swiping a bottle of something good—something strong that burns all the way down. He heads down to the barracks with soldiers too low in the hierarchy or shunned from General Jordan’s good graces. This is where he belongs, with the unimportant and forgotten. Even here, he can’t quite escape the joy. He seems to be the only one unhappy with his station. 

The image of Dick is burned into his mind, rolling his body like a barbarian’s whore, rather than a prince. Jason had poured wine on him in hopes of diminishing his grace, but Dick had used it like an accessory, accenting his taut muscles, the curves of his ass and his pink nipples. It had made him angry; it aroused. How can someone be so free of shame and so powerful when he is stripped of everything? Jason had been jealous, and he wanted to keep Dick for himself. For each conflicting emotion, Jason takes a long sip of his drink—as long as his breath can manage. The searing liquid does nothing to ground him.

Dick’s skin had been so smooth under his calloused hand as he urged him to bend, and the captured prince obliged. Fuck, Jason had been so hard, but his rage and his hate were stronger than him. He had taken the nearest bottle of wine, and tipped it into Dick. Dick had just taken in, his hole drinking it all—

Fuck, fuck, fuck —

Jason has never hated himself worse than he does now.

“Open up, s’me,” Jason slurs. He leans against Dick’s door, pounding his fist against it. “You wan’ed an answer so bad. I got one for ya.” He sniffles, wiping his red nose with the back of his hand. It’s a long trek from the barracks to the royal quarters. “Open up, you majestic fu—”

“You sure you want to finish that sentence?” The door swings open to reveal (an annoyed) Prince Richard in all his glory, a loose-hanging blue robe that makes his eyes glow in the low light of his room’s fireplace. Jason can hardly stand to hold his gaze, but he does it anyway. He shoves a bottle of wine he stole from one of the servants into Dick’s chest. “What’s this?”

“You’re gonna put that in my ass ‘n we’re gon’a be even.” He won’t even feel it, right? He’s certainly drunk enough.

Dick pushes the bottle back towards him. “No. Go to bed, Jason.”

“Why? Why?!”   Each word is punctuated with unspoken pain— I can’t love you, I can’t love you, I can’t love you, but I do. It would be easier if Dick would just do this, and put them on even ground. “Why can’t you fucking do this? Why won’t you let me—”

“Hurt yourself? For me? You must not know me very well after all this time.” Dick remains steadfast. “I don’t need to get even with you. You let me go. You worked hard to gain the trust of my father’s closest generals. You’ve protected me. You don’t need to do anything more.” He reaches to touch Jason’s face, but the comfort is rejected with a smack.

“Protect you? How can I protect you when I can’t even protect you from myself?” His throat, his eyes and his chest burn. The gates behind which he guards his feelings are yielding, there’s too much within him and he can’t possibly hold it all back. A sob breaks past his lips and he shoves the bottle back at Dick. “Just.. fucking —”

“No,” Dick repeats, backhanding the bottle out of Jason’s hands. It shatters against the stone walls with a deafening sound. “Fuck your bottle. Fuck your idea of getting even. I love you,” he steps closer, crowding Jason’s space in the doorway. Jason reeks of alcohol and the stables. “I love you, despite all the things you think are wrong with you. You were there for me. You made me feel less lonely. You don’t think I see how careful you are with me, even when I don’t need it? How you put your best foot forward in a new kingdom ?”

Dick is too close for Jason’s comfort, and even in his inebriation, Jason straightens his spine. Whether it’s to make himself more presentable for the Prince of Gotham, or achieve the slightest distance between the object of his deep affection. He’s not crying, he’s not, but the tears feel hot on his cheeks.

“ You are the one I want. As you are, Jason.” This time, Dick manages to slip past his barrier to touch his face. His thumb wipes away Jason’s sorrow, if only for a moment. “All I care about is if you want me back. And if you don’t—”

Don’t ? What an impossible, irrational thought. Of course, of course, of course, Jason’s heart sings at the sight of yet another chance, another opening to love Dick. Words have never been his strength; he was forged by fist and fire. Jason grabs Dick by the collar of his robe, crashing his lips against his. His kiss spills forth all the secrets he has been trying to kill for months: you’re the only one who sees me, the only one who knows me, I love you, IloveyouIloveyou.

The kiss is deep, sloppy and imperfect. The kiss is like breathing after drowning for years. The kiss heals parts of Jason that were supposed to be broken forever. His hands slip beneath the opening of the robe, feeling the warmth of his skin and clutching onto Dick as if he is the last vestige of Jason’s humanity. Dick is the only good thing that has ever happened to him, and he is sorry. He is so damned sorry.

Dick shrugs the robe off his shoulders, and pulls Jason into his room. Jason kicks the door closed behind him, as he helps Dick divest him of his loose shirt, his sword, his boots and his pants. Clothes trail their path to the bed. Dick falls backward onto the mattress, and Jason’s hand is there, protecting his head and his neck. Careful, always careful with him. Ever since then, Jason has always protected him. He has nothing to prove here, no title to protect with claws and fangs. With his freedom, he offers Dick kindness at every turn.

“Do you love me?” Dick whispers as Jason’s kisses mark his throat, and he nips at his collarbone.

“Yes,” Jason growls between the press of his lips against Dick’s scarred skin.

A soft moan escapes Dick as Jason's attentions travel lower and lower. Dick arches his back, and Jason takes that as a request. His calloused hand finds Dick’s nipple, toying with the soft, pink, sensitive bud to create a symphony with Dick’s cries.

“Do you love me?” Dick asks, burying his fingers in Jason’s hair. He tugs and he encourages.

“Yes,” Jason groans, breathing in the scent of Dick’s crotch. He buries his nose in the curled hair there, getting drunk on the pure, unfiltered scent of his Dick. He will answer his prince as many times as he needs to—his way of making up for his crime of making Dick wait. He kisses down the length of Dick’s erection, noting how soft the skin is despite the hardness. His tongue finds the long vein along the side, and he lavishes it with more and more attention. Dick’s voice, and his fist curled in Jason’s hair are his guide.

“Jason,” Dick sighs, trying to steady his hips as Jason finds his way to his balls, weighing each of them on his tongue. He sucks on the loose sac and offers a nip of teeth, and Dick can’t help but cry out. “Jason!”

“I love you.” Jason pulls back just enough to say those words, but his breath is hot against his hole. He spreads Dick’s plump cheeks, revealing the furled muscle between. There’s brief resistance as Dick kicks his shoulder reflexively, he must have never done this before.

“Jason, wait, wait, that’s not— ah!”

With the single curl of his tongue, Jason has Dick arching and holding onto him for dear life. He fists Dick’s erection and starts jacking it to the rhythm of his licking. He coaxes Dick’s hole open, devouring him from the inside. This is where he belongs, nestled between the cleft of his prince’s ass, and eating him out for dear life. He could live here forever with his sole purpose to make up for all the wrongs Dick has ever experienced, by his hand or any other. Jason never forgets Dick’s balls, mouthing at them too to keep them warm and wet.

“Jay, ah, ah, please make love to me, please.”

It’s nice to be wanted, but that doesn’t stop Jason from teasing him with a finger, then another and another. He circles his entrance and fingers him slowly, pushing in and drawing out. His smile is mischievous as he watches Dick bite his lip to try and temper his pleasure. This Dick is nothing like the performer he’d seen years ago; this Dick is free and trusting, letting Jason hear his choked cries of ecstasy and the soft expressions on his face. He’s so pretty.

“Is that an order, your highness?”

“Ye- yes! ”

“I’m not sure you can take me,” Jason hums.

Dick glares at him, taking personal offence at the accusation. He spreads his legs with the kind of flexibility that has Jason’s eyes widening. He grips his own ass and exposes himself further to his lover. “Try me. That’s an order.”

“As you wish, my love.”

Jason straightens himself, taller and much broader than Dick. At his full height, when he stands with pride like this, he towers over his prince as his personal knight should. The sight of him sends a shiver down Dick’s spine, and he rolls his hips in hopes of gaining more friction, but Jason is patient in his sweet, sweet torture. Jason grips himself, stroking once, twice and smacks his dick over Dick’s exposed hole, grinning with amusement. It annoys Dick, which is entirely the point because for a year, Jason has had to suffer with his conflicting feelings and his guilt. He savours this moment and he makes the very best of it too.

“Jason, please! ”

“I love it when you say my name like that.” Love spills from his mouth in every possible form. It feels good on his tongue, nearly as good as Dick.

“There’s oil in the nightstand,” Dick says breathlessly, trying to reach for the drawer.

“Now, why do you have oil in your nightstand?” Jason leans over to kiss him, sliding his hand across Dick’s palm to knit their fingers briefly in unfiltered affection before reaching for the lubrication. His confidence grows with every passing second, with every moment that Dick remains here in his arms and sure of his decision to love Jason.

Dick looks up at him with his pretty, pretty gaze and loose wisps of hair in his face. He cups Jason’s cheek, and kisses him wherever he can reach. “Because I knew I’d win you over sooner or later.”

“You callin’ me easy, your majesty?”

“Very.”

Jason does his best to remain pressed close. He slips his oil-coated hand between them, slicking himself and Dick’s entrance.

“Are you ready?” He whispers, waiting for Dick to change his mind. There’s still a chance, he could make things even now. Hurt me and I’ll never recover.

Dick nods. He leans in to nip at Jason’s ear, and his warm breath curls around his skin. “I’ve been waiting far too long, my knight.”

Hearing Dick claim him sends heat straight to his cock. It twitches with the joy Jason is still too afraid to reveal completely. Jason aligns himself, kissing Dick’s cheek. Even the press of his head against Dick’s hole sends a flourish of pleasure throughout his body, as if anticipating the ecstasy that awaits. Slowly, carefully, he works his way into Dick.

“Jason, Jason, ngh.” Dick’s breath comes in pants as he holds onto Jason, adjusting to the size of him. “Keep going. Keep going, you feel so good, so right.” His words come out in desperate babbles as he loses himself in pleasure.

The fit is tight, and Jason’s hands have curled into tight fists. He trembles, thinking of anything except—this is Dick, his Dick that he has longed for from the moment he saw him. He wanted to put his hands on him, strangle that damned perfection out of him and when the hate faded, he’d wanted to hold him like something precious. Not once has this prince left his thoughts, and not once did he ever think he could mean something to him. Jason is a soldier; Jason is disposable. Here, he feels so fucking wanted and he won’t ever get enough of this.

Jason sheaths himself completely, and it’s too much—it’s too damn much.

“I love you,” he whispers, burying his face in Dick’s neck. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

[agentstarkid]

AN ETERNAL LOVE BULLSHIT ✦ DR3

Based on this ask

✦ PAIRING: daniel ricciardo x famous!latina!reader

✦ CHECKERED FLAG: 3.7K words (I tried to keep it short, oops)

✦ TRACK LIMITS: angst, self-doubt, crying, feelings of not being enough, heartbreak.

✦ MAY'S RADIO: I've had this on my drafts, ruminating on it for days, soooo I hope you guys like it. Vitto, Iza and Chloe are the real MVPs of this chapter! Queens uplifting another Queen 💅🏽💖 This was fun to write! Thank you so much nonnie for this idea! ilysm <3 p.s. can y'all spot the song references? 👀

This is set during Saudade. | Everything between "—" and italized are flashbacks.

< previous chapter | series masterlist | general masterlist | next chapter >

The end of April in California had days of clear skies, endless blue, and a gentle breeze carrying the sweet scent of blooming flowers. The sun shone warmly, casting a golden glow over everything it touched, yet the cheerful weather felt almost mocking to her current state.

Her guitar lay across her lap, repurposed as a makeshift table for the notebook where she hastily scribbled words, each one an attempt to capture the storm of emotions swirling within her. The grass beneath her was cool and grounding, but it did little to tether her to the present. Every line she wrote was a desperate attempt to process the pain, to make sense of the abrupt void he had left behind. 

Life moved on around her with an indifferent rhythm, but her mind was still stuck replaying the scenes in a Bahraini hotel room on a fateful Friday morning in March. She was stuck, a relic in a world that had already moved on, trapped in the shadow of what once was. The ache in her heart was a constant companion, a reminder that she was still right where he left her, struggling to find a way back to herself.

Her pen moved frantically across the pages, as if the act of writing could somehow release the torment inside her. But each word, each lyric, only seemed to root her more firmly in the past. The guitar beneath her fingers, once a source of joy and creativity, now felt like a conduit for her sorrow. She was lost in her own words, hoping that somewhere in the tangled mess of emotions, she might find a way to heal.

But amidst the ache, she found solace in the unwavering support of her friends. 

Since landing in Los Angeles, her friends had been her rock. When days of isolation had left her feeling like a shell of herself, Vitto and Andrew had intervened, offering her refuge in their home outside the city. Their house, tucked away from the relentless glare of cameras and the whirlwind of drama, had become a sanctuary. The quiet of their surroundings was a balm for her frayed nerves.

Baby Iza, their little bundle of joy, at almost 1 year old, was a constant source of comfort. The child's tiny hands and infectious giggles seemed to have an almost magical ability to lift her spirits. It was as if Izabele could sense her sadness and made it her mission to shower her with love and affection. 

With the sun casting gentle rays through the window, the child would toddle into the room with her tiny feet pattering softly on the floor. Her face, a picture of innocent determination, was often lit up by a bright smile. She would clutch a small toy in her chubby hands—a plush animal or a colorful block—and make a beeline for her godmother, as if to say, “Here, play with me. Everything will be okay.”

Sitting down beside her, Iza would arrange her toys with meticulous care, her eyes occasionally glancing up to gauge her mood. They would sit together in quiet companionship, the simple act of play bringing a semblance of peace.

As the night fell and the room grew dim, she would make her way to her aunt's side once more, but this time with a special gesture. She would carry one of her favorite teddy bears, its soft fur worn from countless hugs—she recognized it as the one that Daniel had gifted Iza when she was born. 

Her sleepy eyes would barely stay open, and the pacifier bobbing gently in her mouth gave her a serene, dreamlike appearance. She would approach her aunt with the bear in tow, offering it with the sincerity only a child can muster. The gesture, simple yet profound, was Iza’s way of offering comfort and reassurance. The irony wasn’t lost on her, as the comfort offered by the bear was tied to the person who had broken her heart.

Despite the tangled emotions that the bear represented, she’d accept the gesture with a quiet grace. Each night, she would clutch the teddy bear tightly in her arms as she lay in bed, she would close her eyes and allow the bear’s presence to soothe her. It was a small, ironic comfort, a connection to a past she was still grappling with. She never spoke of it to anyone, keeping this bittersweet detail to herself. 

Vitto and Andrew's kindness, along with Baby Iza’s innocent charm, and Fio and Danna’s constant facetime calls—and impromptu visits—, were her anchors, grounding her in a time of turbulence.

Rumors had started circulating about Daniel moving on with Heidi, emerging just two weeks after their breakup. As she heard whispers and saw the headlines, she felt a deep internal conflict. One part of her mind tried to dismiss the rumors, knowing all too well how the business thrived on gossip and sensationalism. She had been in this world long enough to recognize how quickly false narratives could spread and how little they sometimes reflected the truth.

Yet, another part of her, the part that had been wounded by every argument they’d ever had about their future, couldn’t silence the inner voice that screamed she was a fool. It was the same voice that had questioned every promise, every declaration of eternal love Daniel had made. How could someone profess to love her, to call her the love of their life—a million times—, to talk about rings and cradles, and then, almost as soon as it was over, move on to someone new?

But a single text changed her entire world.

The moment she received confirmation from Chloe that the rumors were true, a wave of crushing disappointment and pain washed over her. It felt as if the ground beneath her had given way, leaving her in a freefall of disbelief and heartache. The confirmation struck her like a physical blow, knocking the breath from her lungs and leaving her feeling hollow inside.

The betrayal was sharper than she could have ever imagined. Daniel, the person she had known better than herself, had indeed moved on after only two weeks. The image she had clung to, the person she had given the benefit of the doubt, shattered into a thousand irreparable pieces. How could someone who had claimed to love her so deeply and had spoken of a future together move on so swiftly? The realization was a bitter, choking pill to swallow.

Her heart ached with a profound sense of loss, not just of the relationship but of the person she thought Daniel was. The trust she had placed in him, the dreams they had shared, all felt like a cruel joke. She felt duped, as if she had been sold a "get-love-quick" scheme by someone who never intended to follow through on his promises. The sense of being deceived cut deeply, leaving a wound that seemed impossible to heal.

She sat there, gripping her pen tightly, her mind swirling with the betrayal she felt so deeply. Without a moment’s pause, her pen began to race across the pages of her notebook, pouring out the raw, unfiltered emotions she could no longer contain. The lyrics flowed from her as if they were the only way to make sense of the chaos within:

And ain't it funny

How you ran to her the second that we called it quits? 

And ain't it funny how you said you were friends? 

Now it sure as hell don't look like it 

You betrayed me 

And I know that you'll never feel sorry 

For the way I hurt, yeah 

You'd talk to her 

When we were together 

Loved you at your worst 

But that didn't matter 

It took you two weeks 

To go off and date her 

Guess you didn't cheat 

But you're still a traitor

With each line, she felt the searing pain of his betrayal more acutely. How could he have moved on so quickly? The words “two weeks” echoed in her mind like a relentless drumbeat, reminding her of how little time it had taken for him to replace her. The sense of being betrayed, of having her trust shattered, was almost unbearable. She had loved him at his worst, given him everything, and yet it had taken him mere days to discard their love and move on to someone new.

The realization that she was right, that he had been talking to her while they were still together added salt to the wound. It made every moment they had shared feel tainted, every promise he had made feel like a lie. The anger and hurt intertwined, fueling the lyrics that poured out of her. He might not have cheated in the traditional sense, but the emotional betrayal was just as devastating, if not more so. To her, he was a traitor, someone who had violated the sacred trust of their relationship.

The pen in her hand paused for the first time in days, the words unable to flow as freely as before. The grief was too raw, too overwhelming to articulate. She felt an intense, suffocating sadness, mixed with anger and a sense of foolishness for believing in him. Her eyes burned with unshed tears, and her chest tightened with the weight of unspoken emotions.

Her phone storage has been filled with voice notes for the past weeks, but the number has elevated exponentially since the news had hit. Her chat with her producer has been overflowing with “What do you think of this?”, demos shared between them back and forth. 

For moments, she was consumed by raw anger, her pen becoming a weapon as she furiously wrote songs that painted him as the villain he had become in her eyes. She felt the fierce determination to make him know—and if his treacherous heart allowed, to feel—her pain.

Each line dripped with venom and sorrow, a raw portrayal of the anguish he had inflicted upon her. The thought of him reading her words and realizing the depth of her suffering provided a fleeting sense of power and justice.

But after the anger came a deep, suffocating depression. The reality of his betrayal settled over her like a heavy, oppressive fog. Each day felt like a battle to simply get out of bed, and her once vibrant spirit seemed to wither under the weight of her grief. She found herself crying at the smallest things, her emotions a raw, open wound that refused to heal.

—

One night Vitto found her in bed, her cheeks tear-stained and her eyes red and swollen, looking every bit as miserable as she felt inside. Without a word, Vitto quickly gathered her in her arms, holding her tightly as the heart-shattering sobs began anew. The weight of her friend’s pain pressed heavily on Vitto’s heart, but she held her close, whispering kind and reassuring words, trying to contain the pieces of her shattered glass heart.

In a voice barely above a whisper, filled with desperation and heartbreak, she asked the questions that had been gnawing at her soul. “Why can't it be me for once, Vitto? Why can't someone choose me?” Her voice cracked with the weight of the pain she felt. “Is it so hard to love me? What's so wrong with me that no one has the will to stay?”

Vitto's heart ached at the sight of her friend so broken, so lost in her despair. She tightened her hold, pulling her closer as if she could shield her from the cruel thoughts that plagued her mind. “There's nothing wrong with you,” Vitto whispered back, her voice gentle but firm. “You are so easy to love, fofinha, and anyone who doesn't see that is a fool.” She prayed that her friend would see the truth in her words. “You deserve someone who sees you for the amazing person you are and who will never let you go.”

Vitto rocked her gently, smoothing her hair and murmuring softly. “You’re strong,” she whispered. “Stronger than you know. You’ll get through this, one step at a time. You have us, and we’re not going anywhere.”

That night, after the tears had subsided, she found herself sitting on the windowsill, staring out into the vast, indifferent sky. The weight of her grief pressed down on her chest as she gazed at the stars, feeling more alone than ever. 

In the quiet darkness, she whispered her desperate plea to any entity that might be listening. She wasn’t asking for fame or fortune, but for something much simpler and infinitely more precious: love. A love that wasn’t for the artist she became on stage or the persona she put on for the cameras, but for her—the real her, with all her flaws, insecurities, and hidden depths.

She was on her knees, metaphorically, begging for someone to change her fate, to alter the prophecy that seemed to doom her to be always left behind. Why couldn’t someone love her as fiercely as she loved them—or even harder?. 

The question lingered in the air, a painful echo of her deepest fears. She longed for someone who would choose her, who wouldn’t toss her aside once the initial novelty wore off and someone else, shiny and new, came along.

The night air was cool against her skin, a stark contrast to the burning ache inside her. She closed her eyes, letting the silent tears fall, each one a small release of the pain she carried. 

She wasn’t asking for much, just someone who would love her, not for what she represented, but for who she truly was. Someone who would see her, really see her, and still choose to stay. The silence of the night offered no answers, but she hoped—prayed—that somewhere, someone would hear her and bring her the love she so desperately craved. The stars offered no answers, but in the quiet of the night, she found a sliver of solace in the act of voicing her deepest wish.

—

The phone rang late in the evening, its sound piercing the quiet of the room. She hesitated for a moment, glancing at the screen. Chloe's name flashed across it, and a part of her almost didn’t want to pick up. But Chloe had been there for her in ways she hadn’t expected, turning from an acquaintance into one of her closest friends. With a deep breath, she answered.

“Hey,” she said softly, trying to mask the exhaustion in her voice.

“Hey, you,” Chloe replied, her tone gentle, almost cautious. “I just wanted to check in on you. How are you holding up?”

There was a brief silence, the kind that stretches out when you’re trying to find the right words to explain a pain that feels impossible to describe. “I’m… surviving, I guess. It’s been hard,” she admitted, her voice wavering.

Chloe sighed on the other end, a mix of empathy and frustration evident in her breath. “I’m so sorry. I can’t even begin to imagine what you’re going through. And I hate that I had to be the one to confirm it. You deserve so much better.” 

Her heart ached at the sincerity in Chloe’s words. “I don’t even know what hurts more—the fact that he moved on so quickly, or that I still can’t hate him for it. I feel like such an idiot, holding on to the person I thought he was.”

“You’re not an idiot,” Chloe reassured her. “You loved him, and you believed in him. There’s nothing wrong with that. But you have to remember that this isn’t about you, it’s about him and his inability to recognize what he had.”

A sad smile tugged at the corners of her lips. “Thank you. It’s just… I keep asking myself how someone can move on so quickly. I thought what we had was real. We talked about a future, Chloe. The farm, rings, babies, all of it. And then, two weeks after we break up, he’s with someone else? It just… it doesn’t make sense.” she said, her voice cracking. “How could he say all those things to me, make all those promises, and then just... move on? Like I never mattered.”

Chloe hesitated, knowing that what she had to say might sting, but also feeling that honesty was necessary. “I know, and I wish I had the right words to make it better. I don’t understand it either. But people… they’re complicated, and sometimes they don’t even realize the damage they’re causing until it’s too late. Sometimes-” she let out a sigh, “Sometimes people make decisions that don’t make any sense, that hurt the ones they’re supposed to care about the most. But that’s on him, not you. You’re allowed to grieve, to be angry, to feel everything you’re feeling.”

“Do you think he ever really loved me?” The question slipped out before she could stop it, her voice barely above a whisper. It was a question that had haunted her since the confirmation of Daniel’s new relationship, and now it hung in the air between them, heavy and loaded with vulnerability.

Chloe paused, her heart aching for her friend. “I think… I think he loved you in the way he knew how, but maybe that wasn’t the way you deserved to be loved. And that’s not your fault. It’s his loss, really. You gave him everything, and he’s the one who couldn’t appreciate it.”

Tears welled up in her eyes, but she fought them back. “It just hurts so much, you know? I keep thinking that if I had done something differently, if I had been better, maybe things would have turned out differently.”

“Don’t do that to yourself,” Chloe said firmly. “You did nothing wrong. You were yourself, and that should have been enough. He’s the one who couldn’t see what he had in front of him. But I see you, and so do the people who really care about you. You’re not alone in this.”

The girl swallowed the lump in her throat, grateful for Chloe’s words, for her friendship. “Thank you, Chloe. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“You don’t have to thank me. I’m here for you, no matter what,” Chloe replied warmly. 

As the conversation between the girl and Chloe lingered, an uncomfortable question bubbled up within her. She hesitated, biting her lip before finally asking, “Chloe, how is Heidi? Is she… nice? She looks like she is.”

Chloe paused on the other end, considering her words carefully. “She is nice,” she admitted softly. “She’s kind and sweet, and she seems like a good person.”

The girl swallowed hard, a mix of emotions swirling in her chest. “I figured as much,” she said, her voice tinged with a quiet resignation. “At the beginning, I wanted to tear her apart, you know? I wanted to pick out every flaw she had, convince myself she wasn’t good enough. But I couldn’t do that… because she just looks so nice and kind. It’s almost like it made everything worse, knowing that I couldn’t even hate her.”

Chloe sighed, understanding the conflict in her friend’s heart. “It’s natural to feel that way, to want to protect yourself by finding reasons to dislike her. But you’re also showing so much strength by acknowledging that she’s not the enemy. It’s okay to feel conflicted.”

The girl nodded, though her throat tightened. “I just wish it didn’t hurt so much, Chloe. I wish I could be happy for him, for them. But it’s hard when it feels like I’ve been discarded, replaced by someone who seems perfect in every way.”

“Listen,” Chloe said, her voice firm yet gentle, “you’re human, and it’s okay to feel hurt and conflicted. But don’t let those feelings define you. You’re more than what he made you feel, and you deserve someone who will see all of you—the good, the bad, and everything in between”

“I know,” she whispered, though the knowledge didn’t make the pain any easier to bear. “It’s just hard to accept sometimes.”

“It is,” Chloe agreed. “But you’ll get there. One step at a time. And remember, just because she’s nice doesn’t mean your feelings aren’t valid. You’re allowed to grieve what you’ve lost, even if it’s complicated.”

—

Slowly, the depression began to give way to a semblance of acceptance—or something that resembled it. It wasn’t forgiveness, nor was it forgetting, but a grudging acknowledgment that clinging to the pain and anger would only prolong her agony.

She continued to write, but the tone of her lyrics shifted. They were still tinged with sadness and loss, but there was also a hint of desperation and sometimes hope.

We broke up a month ago

Your friends are mine, you know, I know

You've moved on, found someone new

One more girl who brings out the better in you.

[...]

And do you tell her she's the most beautiful girl you've ever seen?

An eternal love bullshit you know you'll never mean

Remember when I believed you meant it when you said it first to me?

And now I'm pickin' her apart

Like cuttin' her down will make you miss my wretched heart

But she's beautiful, she looks kind

She probably gives you butterflies.

[...]

I hope you're happy

I wish you all the best, really

Say you love her, baby, just not like you loved me

And think of me fondly when your hands are on her

I hope you're happy, but don't be happier.

Acceptance came in small, painful increments. It was in the quiet moments when Baby Iza’s tiny hand rested on her cheek, or when Vitto and Andrew’s unwavering support reminded her that she was not alone. It was in the act of writing itself, where she could pour out her heart and begin to untangle the threads of grief and loss.

As she sat on the grass, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows around her, she realized that while Daniel’s betrayal had broken her, it had not destroyed her. She would rebuild herself, piece by piece, word by word, until she was whole again. Despite everything, she was still standing.

Through the anger, the depression, and the acceptance, she learned that she had the strength to endure. The scars from this heartbreak would always be there, but they would also be a testament to her resilience and her capacity to heal. And in those moments of writing, she knew she would emerge from this experience stronger, wiser, and ready to embrace whatever the future held.

[fushiglow]

a short fic for the prompt: satosugu camellia garden date in the afterlife

hope you enjoy this bittersweet gift, @s4turn-ly 🌺 listen to 'us against the world' by coldplay for extra pain!

for this one, i took extra inspiration from all of the camellia garden art after the release of the volume 26 cover. i'm proud of this piece so it's another i'll probably upload to my ao3 eventually, but i was keen to post it before 261...

i think gojo hasn't returned... yet 😎 but he's getting ripped from the arms of his one and only and thrust back to the land of the living before the end. trust.

Camellias. It was the first thing Satoru registered. Hundreds and hundreds of pink camellias in full bloom. Strange, because it was snowing. It had started snowing when he… When he what? It tugged at the edges of his memory, like an item he’d missed off his shopping list. He supposed that probably meant it wasn’t important, whatever it was he’d forgotten. Strange for flowers to survive in this much snow though. Satoru had always liked camellias. They were a February flower and February was the month that had given him Suguru. A short month — fleeting like the flowers that blossomed around him now, fragrant and bright and beautiful. He’d always thought that February was gone too soon. Still, Satoru supposed that was what made them precious. February. Camellias. Suguru. That’s right. It had started snowing when Suguru… When Suguru… No matter. He brushed the lost thought away like the snowflake he brushed from his cheek, moving through the garden as though in a dream. Maybe Satoru was in a dream. Or maybe it was simply the heavy winter garb weighing him down. He wasn’t used to walking in geta; couldn’t remember the last time he’d worn them. Couldn’t remember much of anything before a few moments ago actually. Still, he moved forward, peering around the shrubs in search of what had brought him here. He had never been to this place before, but somehow he knew it was home. Rather, his home was here, hiding somewhere out of sight. Satoru would find him though. He’d promised, after all. He didn’t know how long he walked, trudging through untouched snow. It felt like a lifetime and no time at all, and still Satoru braved the winter in search of summer. Until all at once, there he was. His summer and his spring. His Suguru. Sitting on a stone bench, framed by pink petals and glossy green leaves, Suguru looked up as though he was surprised to see Satoru standing there. Silly. His silly Suguru. After all, Satoru had promised he’d find him and Suguru knew that, too. What other reason did he have to sit out in the snow all alone? Who else would he be waiting for if not Satoru?

When he stepped forward, the wetness on Satoru’s cheeks was hot rather than cold, but Suguru’s hand in his was like ice. Satoru brought his favourite fingers to his lips, cradling them in the warmth there. ‘You’re cold.’ How long had Satoru waited to see those blushing cheeks again? Those eyes like the sky at dawn? That smile like summer sunshine? The dusting of snow atop Suguru’s shoulders was stark white against the satin darkness of his hair. ‘Satoru?’ There was a sorrow to his voice that made no sense. ‘Why are you here?’ His skin was pale with winter, save for the flush of pink across his cheekbones. It matched the bud of his lips, as well as the bloom that Satoru picked to tuck behind his ear. Now a vision in pink, Suguru was perfect. At last, Satoru leaned down, hand trembling against Suguru’s cheek as he finally pressed their lips together. He didn’t know if the tears running down his fingers were Suguru’s or his own. He didn’t care. Satoru was home. ‘I told you I’d find you, didn’t I?’ he whispered, muffling Suguru’s sobs with his lips, kissing away his tears over and over again for as long as it took. ‘I kept you waiting and I’m sorry.’ Satoru pulled back to look at him, holding his face like the most precious thing in the world. Even with shining cheeks and swollen lips, he was beautiful. ‘But I’m here now, Suguru.’ Jerking his head from side to side, Suguru brought his hands to where Satoru’s were resting over his cheeks, squeezing his eyes shut. ‘But you’re not supposed to—’ Satoru stole the rest of the sentence from his lips, swallowing it so Suguru might never utter it again. ‘I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be,’ he insisted, giving Suguru’s face a little shake for emphasis. ‘I’m with you.’ Warm amber met icy blue and Satoru felt it, too. Some forgotten thing tapping against the sides of his skull with increasing urgency. There was something Satoru was missing — but why would he want to think about anything except Suguru? Why would he ever want to be anywhere else but here? With his happiness? His home? Whatever it was that Satoru couldn’t remember bubbled up his throat and escaped as a sentiment that shivered down the length of his spine. ‘I’ll always find you, Suguru. No matter what, I’ll find you.’ Why did the words weigh so heavy on his tongue? ‘Over and over, for as long as it takes. Alright?’ The peace that overtook Suguru’s expression was entirely at odds with the unexpected turmoil in Satoru’s heart. Kissing him so he wouldn’t have to look at it any longer, Satoru pressed a promise into Suguru’s lips. ‘I’ll find you. Always.’ Finally, he wiped the tears from those pretty pink cheeks and brushed the strands of snow-soaked hair from Suguru’s face. Drinking in his loveliness, Satoru suddenly felt afraid to close his eyes. He didn’t ask permission before settling onto the bench next to Suguru, laying his head in a soft lap. He didn’t ask permission before taking those cold fingers and winding them into his own hair either. He knew Suguru would let him. Always. Gazing up at summer framed by winter, Satoru decided he was wrong. How could the thing shining in Suguru’s eyes ever be called a curse? ‘Now, let’s just stay here a while.’ Suguru’s smile was warm enough to chase the chill from his heart. ‘Alright, Satoru.’ He didn’t dare close his eyes. ‘Let me stay a while.’

if you wanna submit a prompt or request, head over to my retrospring — make sure to read the guidelines first!

[atlas-of-a-human-soul]

A little danger, pt. 16

A little danger - Series Masterlist

Pairing: Sky of Eraklyon x mind!fairy

Warnings: angst, fluff, swearing, violence, sexual innuendos, descriptions of blood/wounds/death

———— PART 16 ————

Laying on the bed, Y/N is silently staring at the ceiling as Sky sleeps. She spent hours trying to retrieve his memories, to bring them forth from darkness but it only caused them both pain and nosebleeds. After the fifth try, Sky insisted it was best to stop. Y/N agreed. 

For now, at least.

Stella texted her in the morning, letting her know Queen Luna had arrived. Surprisingly, she informed her that the students don’t remember Bloom’s role in Rosalind’s death, but the Queen does. She succeeded to some degree, after all. Not as useless as she believed she was. 

The girls will try to convince the Queen to release Bloom later in the day, Stella acting as a layer of defense. The others will find where Farah was buried. 

That should go over well.

Part of her wishes she could seek her grave as well, to get some much needed closure, but Sky is here. He’s alive and Farah isn’t and the person who did her harm is already dead, so what is the point. Revenge is off the table, all that remains is sadness and Y/N has plenty of sadness in her life. 

Glancing at Sky, she envied how peaceful he seemed. Not even an inkling of worry or heart-wrenching sorrow as he’s asleep. It’s ridiculous, but it angers her. How is it she’s the one saddled with all the rage, sadness, and worries? Somehow, Y/N is meant to take the brunt of this horrible thing that’s happened to them and she will. As long as there’s a chance to bring Sky back, the actual Sky she knows and loves, she’ll take anything life has to offer. 

“I feel you staring,” Sky murmurs and she sighs.

“Here we go again.”

“I don’t mind,” he smirks, eyes still closed. “I know I’m easy on the eyes.”

“Is there an off switch for the cockiness?”

Chuckling, he raises his brows and glances at her before his gaze falls to his hardened member. “There might be.”

Rolling her eyes, she gets up. Head in her hands, she groans. “I can’t believe the dick is back.” It felt like they made some progress after their talk last night, but this made her believe it was all an act. 

“It’s a natural process,” Sky defends.

“How do you even know that? You remember pizza and morning wood, but I’m not even a footnote?”

Shrugging playfully, he smirks, “Food and their dicks, kind of the most important part of any man’s life.”

Turning away, she pinches the bridge of her nose. “Guess I’m the idiot thinking I was an important part of your life too.”

Heading into the bathroom, she slams the door behind her. 

Licking his lips, Sky sits up. “Guess I’ll just…handle it myself.”

Yanking the door open, Y/N glares at him. “If you jerk off anywhere near my bed I will lobotomize you!”

Rolling his eyes, Sky scoffs. “You’re all bark and no bite.”

Filled with anger, Y/N’s eyes glow with a soft, violet light. Sky cocks his head at her determined expression, raising his eyebrows as she extends her hand toward him. As if caught in a gentle breeze, he feels himself lifted from the ground, his body floating weightlessly in the air. Holding his breath, he looks down, marveling at the realization.

“I’m flying!”

Clicking her tongue, she scowls before pushing him against a wall. “Actually, I’m biting.” Adding light pressure to his neck, she smirks. “I’m not one to be played with.”

Instead of fear, a sense of wonder fills Sky’s heart as he gazes at Y/N. The way she commands the room, the tempered way she speaks even in anger, and the gentleness of her power despite his arrogance is mesmerizing. He’s captivated by the purple hue surrounding her, wishing she’d release him and allow a single touch just so he knows he’s not imagining things and this is real. That she is real.

When she finally lowers him to the floor, he lands with a soft thud, his eyes never leaving hers. Without any words, he closes the distance between them, cupping her face with a tenderness she missed greatly.

“I’m not playing with you, I promise.” Licking his lips, Sky’s eyes flicker to hers for mere seconds before focusing on the remnants of purple in her gaze. It’s dear to his heart despite reason, as if it speaks to some part of his soul he’s lost.

Swallowing thickly, she closes her eyes. “It hurts.” Returning his gaze, she sighs. “You have no idea…the weight of what we lost last night is suffocating me. And you’re here, but not really. Sky, you’re a stranger with a fascination, not the man who loves me.”

“You can reverse it,” he shrugs meekly as her hands pull his away from her face. “You’ll bring me back to who I was and it will be fine.”

Looking away, she covers her mouth and he realizes she’s holding back tears. “Would you want that?”

“What do you mean?”

Letting out a heavy breath in response, she sits on her bed. “A lot has happened to you Sky. A lot that I know you’d rather not have to deal with. Maybe that would be the best thing for you?”

Frowning deeply, he shakes his head lightly. “That can’t be true.”

“It is,” she responds instantly. “I’ve never seen you this carefree before, not since we were kids!”

Getting on his knees, he rests his hands on her thighs carefully, as if awaiting her reaction. “You say I loved you.”

Nodding, her lips quiver. He’s right before her, he’s touching her and his eyes are filled with confusion. Somehow, she’s managed to break him in less than 24 hours…he was a clean slate, happy! If he went with Stella, he’d still be content instead of lost like a child.

“If I loved you as much as you say, I don’t think any amount of heavy shit that would come with loving you would matter.”

“You only say that because you can’t remember what it was. It broke you. I broke you.”

Before Sky can say anything, his phone rings, startling them both.

“What the fuck is that?”

Taking the phone from his jacket, Y/N answers, putting it on speaker.

“You’re calling a guy who has no memories. That’s a new level of stupid even for you.”

“Figured you’d fix him by now with your fairy shit,” Riven remarks. “Saul’s calling all the specialists. The Solarians found Sebastian’s hideout. It’s not far from here.”

“And he clearly left Sky out for obvious reasons.”

“His memory might be wiped, but his muscles remember the training,” he clarifies. “We have to take these guys out. End this war before it begins. If he’s capable of fighting, he should come.”

“How do I know if I can fight?” Sky asks, ignoring the disgruntled look on her face.

“Have Miss Sunshine bring you down and we can check it real fast.”

“I don’t think this is a good idea. Saul won’t let him come anyway,” Y/N insists. “Even if he can fight, he has no idea what he’s fighting.”

“Blood witches are evil, control people like puppets whilst enjoying killing us and the fairies. There, now he knows.”

Grimacing, Y/N shakes her head. “It’s too dangerous. If he’s coming, I’m coming too.”

“No!” 

“No!”

Raising her brows, she sets her lips in a thin line. “Since when do either of you think you have any choice in the matter?”

“Since they nearly took your magic last time, which would have given them all the power they need to kill us all!”

“Listen,” Y/N licks her lips, “I’ll bring Sky, but if he goes with you, I’m not staying behind. So, it’s really your choice.”

Once they got to the grounds, Y/N was hoping Sky wouldn’t show any physical capabilities. If he was just an ordinary man, he’d stay with her away from the fight. This would make her life so much easier, she’d be able to breathe again and maybe find a way to have him fall in love with her all over again – without the memories of their past that so deeply affected their lives. She’d force herself to let it all go and just enjoy him as he is, to truly live this time around. 

But that didn’t happen.

Sky successfully blocked every attack Riven utilized against him, having Riven pinned to the ground so effortlessly that it seemed as if he was better at this than before.

“He’s coming with us,” Saul states. “He’s perfectly capable of fighting, and you can do the same here.”

“What?”

“Bloom is gone, Y/N. Her sentence is harsh and she’s out of the picture for now.” Staring at Sky throwing Riven over his shoulder, Saul shrugs. “Unless you save her.”

“But Sky –“

“Will be with me. I will keep him safe as I’ve always done in the past.”

Wrapping a protective arm around Y/N, Saul kisses her temple. “Queen Luna is a powerful fairy, but your power is ancient. She can’t fight you and Bloom openly, so she’s manipulating events to take you out of the game one by one.” Giving her a pointed look, Saul raises his brows. “Do not let her.”

Glancing at Sky, Y/N nods. “I have to talk to him first.” 

“I understand.”

“And if something happens to him, Saul, I swear to you I will burn The Otherworld to the ground.”

Despite the severity of her threat, Saul smiles. “I’d help you.”

Shielding her eyes from the sun, she draws in a shuddered breath as catches Sky’s gaze on her. It wasn’t an accidental glance or a shy glimpse, he was staring at her unapologetically as if he knew she was undeniably his. 

Yours truly.

Sky frowns in confusion, rubbing his forehead. His eyes widen slightly before putting his shirt on, hastily walking toward her.

“I’ll leave you to it,” Saul taps her shoulder, reassuring her he will protect Sky.

With his shortened breathing, Sky places his hands on his hips. Towering over her, he quirks an eyebrow. “You know, I could have sworn I heard you just now.” There’s a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes, a glimmer of bewilderment dancing in the blue-green depths. “But your lips weren’t moving,” he manages a wry smile. “More like…your voice echoed in my head? Does that make any sense?”

A pang of guilt tugs at her heartstrings, her lips parting slightly. “Yes,” she sighs. Biting her lower lip, she struggles to find the right words to express her remorse because she’s done it again – Sky hated intrusions of this sort, so how does she explain she messed up without him running from her.

“I’m sorry,” she decides an apology would be most sincere. “It’s not a conscious thing most times. Seems like it happens with you often though, I still don’t know why.” Pinching the bridge of her nose, she turns away from him. 

Curling his fingers around her wrist, Sky turns her to face him. There’s a subtle, but undeniable intimacy in the gesture, one that sends a shiver of warmth coursing through her veins. “Don’t turn away from me like that. Okay? I don’t like it. In fact, I really don’t like when you decide how I perceive things. I don’t know how I reacted to stuff before, but it doesn’t mean I’m going to be the same. You said it yourself, I’m a stranger right now, so don’t assume I’ll go off the rails about things I don’t even remember.”

In response, she moves her hand, mirroring his gesture, holding onto his wrist, their position resembling the solemnity of making an unbreakable vow.

“I’ll stop assuming,” she promises. “I’m sorry I keep projecting all my problems and insecurities onto you. I think I’ve always done that and it’s exactly why we broke up.”

“See, some things are best left forgotten. I don’t really want to remember that. Sound painful as fuck.”

Pursing her lips, she tugs at the zipper of his jacket with her free hand. “Yeah. It is.”

Narrowing his eyes at her, he cocks his head ever so slightly. “What is it?”

“Hm?”

“You’re trying to say something. Just say it.”

Exhaling as she smiles, Y/N drags her palm into his hand, holding it tightly. “Saul wants you to go with them. He’s the closest thing both of us have to a father. I trust his judgment.”

Raising his eyebrows, he chews his lips. “Alright. That’s a good thing, isn’t it?”

Nodding, she forces a smile. She has to be strong and project confidence and assurance for Sky’s sake, but there’s nothing other than anxiety in her heart.

Her lips curve upwards, but the smile doesn't reach her eyes. It's a facade, a mask she wears to hide her true emotions. She can feel the tension radiating off Sky, his sharp gaze probing her facade, searching for the truth hidden beneath her carefully constructed facade.

“I won’t be coming with you.” 

“Oh.” Inhaling sharply, he nods. “Well, that’s understandable. You’re a fairy, I’m the specialist. Riven made it pretty clear my role is to protect fairies.”

Summoning all her strength, she steadies her trembling breath and nods in affirmation. “That’s the bare basis of it. But there are layers to it. Plenty of layers, especially for us.”

“Peel a few for me before I leave?”

Cupping his cheek tenderly, she holds her breath as he leans into her palm. “I’m your fairy, Sky. It’s not just a random pairing they made in class, we are connected in a deeper way. When we have to defend each other, we are deadly.”

“Do others have their fairy?”

“Some do,” she shrugs. “It’s a rare thing.”

“Are other fairies joining this fight?” Sky tightens his hold on her as she shakes her head.

“Mind fairies are the only ones effective against Blood witches, but we don’t have many at this school. One of my friends lost her magic the last time we faced them…I nearly lost mine and we cannot afford mine to be taken away, no matter how much I wish it.”

As the words sink in, Sky's eyes widen in disbelief, his mind struggling to comprehend the gravity of what Y/N has just revealed. For a moment, he is frozen in stunned silence, his heart clenching with a mixture of shock and anguish. 

“You wish for that?” He can't fathom the idea of Y/N willingly giving up her magic, the very essence of who she is. It's as if she's offering to sacrifice a part of herself, a fundamental aspect of her identity, and the thought fills him with a profound sense of sorrow.

“Why would you –“ With a heavy heart, Sky reaches out to Y/N, his fingers trembling as they brush against her cheek. He searches her eyes, silently pleading for her to reconsider, to see the beauty and wonder of her magic in the way he does. He’s barely seen a fraction of it and he’s already hooked. 

Riven’s voice interrupts the exchange. “Get your ass going! We are leaving!”

“We’re not done talking about this,” Sky states firmly, but there is a glimmer of understanding, a flicker of empathy for the pain that must be driving Y/N to such drastic measures. He can see the weariness etched into her features, and in that moment he realizes that wish stems from a place of profound desperation - a longing to be at peace. If he’s part of the reason, then he can’t imagine what a dick he truly is to have her questioning this beautiful part of her soul he’s inexplicably drawn to. 

“NOW”, Riven shouts.

Huffing, Sky frowns as she pulls away from him. “Stay safe,” she smiles. 

Come back to me.

Glancing over his shoulder, he drags a hand across his face before accepting the sword Riven holds out for him. “We’re coming back in one piece, right?”

Riven scoffs, “I sure hope so.”

Watching them drive off, only catching a small wave from Sky, Y/N feels as if her heart might give up. They’re not good apart, especially not in a fight. Together they survive, but apart? It’s never a good thing.

“Now that they’ve gone, could you spare a few minutes for me?”

Y/N's breath catches in her throat as she lays eyes on Farah, her mind struggling to process the impossible standing before her. A ghost of her past in the flesh, returning to haunt her.

“This isn’t real.” Shock and disbelief wash over Y/N in waves, leaving her trembling and disoriented. She blinks rapidly as if trying to dispel the illusion before her eyes, but Farah remains steadfast and real, a reassuring smile playing on her lips.

“I’m here.”

Unable to find the words to express the emotions raging within her, Y/N simply reaches out to Farah, her hand trembling as it brushes against her arm. It's a gesture of disbelief, a wordless acknowledgment of the miracle that stands before her. Embracing her, she lets the tears flow freely.

Holding her tightly, Farah runs a soothing hand over her back. “I’m sorry darling, but we don’t have much time.”

Pulling away, sniffling, she frowns. “What does that mean? I just got you back!”

“You didn’t. Not truly.” Brushing away her tears, Farah smiles sweetly. “I did not survive the attack. When I realized what Rosalind was going to do, I drew on as much magic as I could, and called on the natural world to preserve me.”

With trembling lips, Y/N shakes her head. “I don’t have long, but I do have time for one final lesson. For both you and your friends.” Farah turns around, waving her hand lightly. The girls followed shortly after, forming a tight circle. Bloom’s with them, much to Y/N’s confusion. Didn’t Saul say she was gone? Isn’t that the reason she was told to stay behind?

“When I was your headmistress, I shielded you from the harsh truths of the world. I believed that positive emotions were the cornerstone of powerful magic. Rosalind felt the opposite. That strength was only forged in those harsh truths. We were both wrong. To unlock true magic, you must make peace with all your emotions. The reckless joy of the positive and the despair of the negative. There is beauty and power in both. I'm so proud of each of you. And of the women you're becoming.” 

Tucking her hair behind her ears, Y/N folds her arms. “Using my emotions in my magic has only ever caused others to get hurt. It’s not that simple.”

“Y/N, shall we take a walk?”

Walking toward the woods, Y/N grumbles. “Are you sure it’s not Bloom you meant to invite?”

Farah chuckles. “Bloom has gotten all the wisdom she needed from me. You still need a little more.”

“It’s always been this way,” Y/N remarks. “She’s the star pupil, even when she sets someone on fire. I’m the one needing extra lessons and work no matter what I do.”

“Darling, you’ve got it all wrong.” Farah stops. “The reason you needed extra care is because you’ve locked yourself in a shell out of fear. You’ve been so afraid of your powers, hating it, running from its potential, but this kind of power can’t be locked away. The shell cracks eventually and you have extremely powerful magic escaping it in terribly, uncontrolled ways. Y/N, what happens when a dam begins to break?”

“The water trickles through the cracks, slowly at first…but then there are all these pressure leaks that increase the speed damage to the structure of the dam…and when it breaks and the water comes out all at once, it’s certain to take out everything in its vicinity.”

Tilting Y/N’s chin with her index finger, Farah smiles. “Don’t you understand? You’ve created a dam that’s breaking and instead of letting the river run free, in its natural state, you’ve created a dam and pressure leaks, and when it breaks entirely, it will annihilate everything.”

Clenching her jaw, Y/N trains her gaze on her feet. “So I’ll explode one day...like I always thought?”

“It’s never too late to detonate,” Farah wraps an arm around her, moving her forward as they continue the walk. “Embrace your emotions, even the ugly ones. The fear, the anger, the grief, all of it is a part of you and you are in control. Those emotions do not control you or your magic, not if you don’t let them.”

Biting her lower lip mercilessly, Y/N looks up at Farah. “I’ve been so angry at you. So, so angry.”

“You couldn’t have known –“

“I’m a mind fairy, I should have seen it! If I was in control, I’d have known…maybe I could have even stopped it.”

Grabbing her by the shoulders, Farah frowns. “Stop! You are very powerful, darling, but you’re not all-powerful. There are things we can’t see coming, no matter how hard we try. You can’t save everybody. It doesn’t work like that. Don’t ever blame yourself for what happened to me…I don’t.” Pressing a kiss to her forehead, Farah sighs. “You are my favorite student. I know you’re afraid of your power, but you have to use it. One way or another, those you love will need you to fight.” Offering a smile, she takes a step back. “I believe in you. You have the power to protect this realm, to save it from those who wish chaos upon it.”

“Rosalind said something similar to Bloom once,” Y/N presses her lips in a thin line.

“How about this, then? Don’t think about saving the world. Focus on saving your world. When you have that in your heart, you can’t go wrong.”

Sniffling, she nods. “You waited until they were gone. He would have loved to see you.”

“Saul would understand. Our friendship was dear to me, you can tell him that.”

Lifting her head to the sky, Y/N wipes the tears slowly forming their path on her cheeks. “I hate saying goodbye.”

“I’m glad we have the chance to do it properly,” Farah wraps her arms around her, letting her cry while the sun goes down. As the last ray of light dies down, Y/N’s arms wrap around herself, realizing Farah is gone…this time for good.

FINALE

[mrs-gauche]

Hey guys! 🙂 It's the end of 2024 and I realized today I haven't posted on here since finishing Veilguard.

Well, to make it short.. since then, I've spent a lot of time thinking about it, replaying it, watching my friends who are DA casuals and not into fandom play it (which was very enlightening but also hilarious 😂), so now.. I feel like I'm at a point where I know exactly what my issues with this game are and I've made peace with it. I still love Dragon Age! And I love parts of Veilguard and I had a ton of fun playing it (though probably for all the wrong reasons 🥲). When I first finished the game, I cried tears of happiness that after ten years my favorite character actually somehow got a beautiful Happy Ending and closure, but also tears of sorrow that this marks the end of the story that was set up back in 2009.. and tears of mourning that this story had all the potential to be so so SO much more.

Dragon Age is a very weird franchise in that all the games have been, in many ways, vastly different from each other and to be a fan of the whole series means to recognize all its flaws and changes, but still loving it because of its unique core elements that glue it together and make it so special. I could sit here for hours trying to put into words what I think went wrong with Veilguard, but I know many people have already done so far more eloquently than I ever could. This blog was always meant to be just a positive little corner to share my love for these games and silly VA stuff with other people and I'm sure I will eventually reblog all the two million posts I've liked over the past month, both positive and critical. But for now and the new year, I want to focus my time and energy on just being creative, getting back to drawing and trying to realize ideas about DA I've had for a looong time and that's my way of "emotionally recovering" (that sounds so dramatic 😂). 💜

With that being said... What a crazy decade year it has been for me personally in this fandom... So I want to look back at it, just some rambling under the cut, 'cause I'm a little sentimental now, I guess. 🥲

Before I created this blog, I was mostly just a lurker on here for many years, despite being a fan of BioWare games since.. uh.. forever? lol But I was always waaay too insecure about my English, let alone my own art. I also have social anxiety, so maybe that was part of the reason why I decided to finally create this blog at a time when the fandom was at its most dormant? lol (There is also a whole separate post for another day about how Mass Effect influenced me personally and how it made my biggest dream come true, the enormous honor to voice a few NPCs in (the German version of) Andromeda. Still the craziest thing to ever happen to me. lol)

So, seeing all the crazy excitement and the fandom fully revived this year and all these months leading up to Veilguard was both incredibly overwhelming, but also the most fun I've ever had as being part of a fandom! This year also marked the first time I posted my own art online and I can't even put into words how crazy it was seeing the response to that and I still can't believe that Trick Weekes not only commented on but also reposted it, that is still f*cking insane to me and I'll never forget the morning I woke up to see that. lmao

So yeah.. THAT happened. Followed by what I think has to be one of the weirdest, craziest marketing campaigns I've ever seen. lol Going back to 2022, we truly had it all...

A title announcement on a random Thursday that was probably done so that it would not be confused with the Netflix series announced a few days later. A tie-in comic more than a year before release that was... a little pointless? lol A vinyl collection that spoiled the composers a year before release. A title change literally two days before the first trailer. A reveal trailer that left many in shock because of its tone shift and complete lack of the former title character. A line of Game Informer articles that left us often times with more questions than answers. Every single article being deleted the very next month due to GI shutting down. An actor panel at SDCC happening right as Sag Aftra went on strike. A "fandom" party that had nothing to do with Dragon Age. Jason Derulo. An artbook that accidentally revealed the release date with its pre-order, which was then deleted. Twice. Memes about roadmaps. A second trailer that in hindsight probably should've been the first one. An audio drama by a different writing team with some baffling (but funny) lore mistakes. A combat showcase starting off with a disclaimer that "footage had been edited due to spoilers"... followed by THE biggest spoiler in literally the first ten seconds. The first IGN video with super spoilery dev commentary. A hand-on preview event with 140 people leading to spoilers galore... Did I mention spoilers? lol

That was when I stopped looking at stuff online, so I don't know what happened after that, but WOW, what a crazy ride that was. 🥲 Truly a DA4 Summer to remember and I'm unironically so grateful to have witnessed it in real time with all of you. 😂

Then finally, after ten flippin years of tinfoiling, speculating, reading crazy development stories and clowning around at every gaming live event, Veilguard was finally released and it will probably go down as the most emotionally charged Halloween of my life. lmao

Then it was time to actually play The Veilguard. Which took me about a month.

A month filled with what I can only describe as a crazy rollercoaster of conflicting emotions. Aside from everything having to do with Solas, I'd say my personal highlights of the entire experience was seeing Felassan (I screamed), the PHOTO MODE and even one hilarious "breaking the fourth wall" moment, where I would frantically run around in Elgar'nan's trap in "Blood of Arlathan", to a point where I would yell at the screen "SOLAS, I COULD USE SOME HELP NOW, HELLO???" and hearing his flippin voice literally two seconds later going "Yes, you called?" and I freaked out so hard I dropped the controller. 😂😂😂 Also, as someone who romanced Alistair in my first playthrough of DAO and brought him to the final battle not knowing he would sacrifice himself, you can imagine my flashbacks when I saw Davrin dying at Tearstone.. who I had romanced. 💀 Or the Dark Ritual flashbacks when I saw Morrigan wanting to talk to me right before the final mission. lol Getting the Felassan rune actually made me tear up a little. There are many little moments like that that I loved or that made me emotional, but ultimately.. Veilguard is a game that, for all the amazing graphics and cutscenes and flashy combat.. the more I think about the story and the lore (or lack thereof), the more I end up confused and trying to figure out what it is that's breaking the immersion to me in a way that the previous games didn't.

But anyway... I finished Veilguard, though the DA craziness of 2024 wasn't over just yet and I didn't know that the best was yet to come in December. lol

So.. Years ago, one of the main reasons I created this blog was to make silly "appreciation posts" about Solas' German VA and ramble on about my love for his performance.. I even remember making a post on here like three years ago talking about how I would sadly never EVER get a chance to meet his VA personally, because that man never ever goes to any fan conventions or public events. lol

Well... GUESS WHO I MET AT THE GERMAN COMIC CON EARLIER THIS MONTH!!!

YES GUYS, without sounding like a weirdo (because despite my obsession with voice acting, I don't care for VAs social accounts or anything beyond their work as a VA), but after years of jokingly referring to this blog as the "Ozan Ünal Appreciation Blog", and kinda the reason I made this blog in the first place, I finally met the man himself and it was probably the best friggin fan experience I could've wished for. 🥲🥲🥲

See, I've met a lot of different VAs at Cons before, who were all super nice and awesome to talk to.. but let me tell you, this guy has such an incredibly contagious positive attitude and charm!! lol Me and my friend were literally the last to stand in line at his booth before the event closed, there were TONS of people (there were quite a few VAs at the Con, but his booth had BY FAR the most people in line the whole day lol) and yet he made sure to take the time to talk with every single person, asking questions, was genuinely interested in our opinions, joking around and just generally SO FRIGGIN NICE. And he's just a very chill and funny dude? lol

And it was so funny, because there were SO many people and yet apparently I was the only person that day to talk to him about DA and Solas and he was SO excited about it 😂😂😂 (I bet like 90% of the fans talked to him about his VA work on Vampire Diaries, The Big Bang Theory, Gravity Falls and Nicholas Hoult lol).

And of course, because DA4 happened so recently, it was still fresh in his memory. He told us that he even watched some Let's Plays and asked what we thought of the game and I'm still laughing so hard, because he was literally like "Oh yeah, the lore is MASSIVE and it was so overwhelming and I could barely keep up with it, the whole time I had no idea what I was talking about.. like, what exactly IS Mythal??" LMAOOO His performance for Solas was so good and so convincing and now I'll always have to picture him standing in the recording booth, no flippin clue what he's actually talking about. lmaoo And then my friend was pointing at me like "She's actually a walking lore encyclopedia" and then he was like "Oh, you should've been in the booth then!" lol

And I'm actually quite upset on his behalf now, because he also told us how, when the English VAs were officially announced, he had actually made a post on social media about how he was returning for Solas in DA4 and how he got in so much trouble for that because EA told him they were going to make an official announcement.... AND THEN THEY NEVER DID??? Like, I was desperately waiting for an announcement about the German voice cast and they simply never made one, we literally had to wait for the credits to be published? (Also, the German and French version have only one female and one male voice for Rook and no one knows what happened there, we tried to contact them about it, but no response so far?? It's like they don't even care.) That's EA for you...

Anyway, we then chatted a bit more about his other work and stuff and he recorded an audio for me (I actually got him to say the "Vir shiral malasa, bellanaris" GUYS AND IT SOUNDS SO GOOD, like I was so nervous, asking "Could you do elven..?" and he was like "Sure, it's been a year, might be a bit rusty" and then he just knocked it out of the park?? lmao So I have both Lavellan's AND Solas' WEDDING VOWS NOW. 😭😭😭❤❤❤❤❤)

So yeah, that was my meeting with Ozan flippin Ünal and what an awesome guy and amazing VA and what an "epic conclusion" of this year of the Dragon (Age) 2024. lol And the timing feels so strange now, because, in a way, it feels kinda like coming full circle?

Like I said in the beginning, for years I was always mainly a lurker in the fandom and the reason why I created this blog was to join in on the hype/speculation train for DA4 and to talk about Solas' German and French voices and share my silly edits and gifs. And now I've played Veilguard AND I've met Ozan Ünal.. both things that, at some point, I wasn't sure were ever going to happen.....

So.. In terms of my fandom experience, this year was crazy and whatever 2025 brings and whatever happens with this blog or DA in general... I love this fandom (especially my little Solasmancer bubble <3) and I love Dragon Age and whoever's reading this, here's to 2025 and I hope you have a Happy New Year!! 💜💜💜💜💜

[starlightsinger32]

457 King!Inho and Commoner!GiHun Fanfic Scene

I HAVE to get this fanfic scene out of my head so I can actually finish 'Caged' and not get dragged kicking and screaming into a new hyperfixation!

INFO: King Inho is a tyrannical ruler who is responsible for the deaths of hundreds of his own people, and who always wears a black mask. Under pressure from his uncle (Il Nam) to produce an heir after the death of his wife and child ten years earlier, In Ho stumbles upon happy go lucky, rosy cheeked, commoner Omega Gi Hun, and is immediately obsessed. You guys know how he is, he's like: "I want THAT one" and no one can talk him out of it.

However, since Gi Hun hates the King for being the direct cause of the deaths of several of his loved ones, In Ho goes under cover as visiting merchant Young-il. He successfully wins Gi Hun over, and six months later, when Young-il (In Ho) proposes, Gi Hun says yes. Literally the next day, he wakes up in the palace and discovers that the man he hates and the man he fell in love with are one and the same.

THIS is the aftermath:

"Gi Hun." In Ho called softly, slowly approaching his omega, who was sitting with his back to him, looking distantly out the window of his bedroom.

He had learned to let Gi Hun know he was coming after the man had very nearly hit him out of panic when he crept up behind him. He'd never reacted like that towards Young-il.

But when he reached his fiance, something wasn't right. For a brief moment, the king wondered if an imposter sat before him, but he knew Gi Hun's honey scent after many nights with his nose buried in the other man's neck, and the scent lingered.

That didn't mean that the man hadn't under gone a significant physical change. Gone were the soft, wavy curls that framed Gi Hun's smiling face, the ones that In Ho loved to thread his fingers through when they kissed.

Gi Hun's hair was short now, not shorn directly to his head, but certainly shorter, flatter, and with sharper edges. The haircut made his oval face look thinner, his eyes empty and sad.

Before he could stop himself, In Ho spoke: "What have you done?"

Gi Hun didn't look at him, instead still staring into space. Almost mechanically, he answered: "I cut my hair. That's what I do when it gets long."

In Ho hadn't given permission for that! "No. Why would you do something like that? Your hair looked so beautiful!"

Somehow, that comment seemed to light a small spark in the omega's eyes. "Does that mean...you don't want to marry me anymore?"

Any outside observer would have easily recognized his emotion to be hope, but all In Ho saw was his omega, frightened that his alpha was about to leave him.

Teeth gritting in anger, the king grabbed Gi Hun's hands. "Do you honestly think I would ever cast you aside based on the way you look? I love you, Gi Hun, I would marry you tomorrow, regardless of what your hair looks like."

"Oh." Was all the response he got. Gi Hun went back to staring sadly out the window, but his fiance wasn't done.

"When will we get married? I know that everything that has happened has been a big change, but we really should get started on preparations."

Gi Hun tried to pull his hands away, but the king wouldn't let go. "You lied to me."

"About my name and my job, nothing else." In Ho finally did release the other man's hands to take his black mask off. When Gi Hun wouldn't look at him, he gently but firmly turned the other's chin towards him. "I'm still me."

The omega just looked at him, brown eyes full of sorrow. "I love Young-il. He's not you."

"Yes, I am. If I told you my real name,you would have known who I was immediately. And I wanted you to love ME." One hand grabbed Gi Hun's left one, fingers tracing over the gold ring on his finger. "And you do. You said yes to ME."

There was a pause as the other man digested his words. In Ho remained at his side, calmly waiting for the logic behind his words to sink in.

He didn't have to wait long.

"Okay...I'll marry you."

In Ho fought down a burst of joy. It COULDN'T be that easy.

"Truely? You've changed your mind?"

Gi Hun gave a little nod. The expression on his face was far from the unbridled joy when In ho had first got down on one knee, but he no longer looked like a broken doll. His eyes were firm and determined.

"Yes, but if I do, I want you to give me something.

"Alright." The king just barely held himself back from saying: 'Anything!' That statement might lead to himself dumping the entire riches of his kingdom in front of the omega to do with as he wished. "What do you want, darling?"

"My friend, Sae-byeok, I want her to come to the wedding."

His words gave In Ho pause. He knew that name from somewhere...something wasn't right.

Gi Hun kept talking. "I've known her and her mother for many years, she's almost like a sister to me, so I want her to come-oh wait! She can't, she died three years ago; killed by a street gang for pickpocketing so she could afford to feed her brother!"

The omega shook his head, laughing at his own foolishness as though he had forgotten Sae-byeok was out of town. Then he slapped himself in the forehead.

"Sung-woo! Of course! My childhood friend, how could I forget about him, I want him to come to the wedding instead. But, wait a minute, oh no, he can't come, either!"

In Ho didn't like where this was going. "Darling-"

Gi Hun ignored him. "He died right in front of me, he killed himself, actually. He was a wanted man for embezzlement from the Royal Caucas, and he knew that his mother would never be safe unless he was dead. I tried to stop him, but Sung-woo was always stubborn..."

More laughter, this time a little more deranged.

"Gi Hun, stop this!" The king commanded, but the omega suddenly sat straight up, eyes wide.

"Wait, but I know what I really want now! I want my mom to come. She'll be so happy that I'm getting married again, she was so sad when I got divorced because she didn't want me to be alone." He nodded with satisfaction. "Yes, that's it. If my mom can come, I'll marry you."

There was another long pause. In Ho waited for the other shoe to drop, but the commoner continued to look up at him with earnest eyes. The king exhaled.

"Of course your mother is invited, I would never dream of-"

"I don't think she'll be able to make it, though." A shadow had fallen over Gi Hun's face, his gaunt cheeks hollowing as he gritted his teeth. "Given that she died of diabetes three years ago, on our kitchen floor."

"What?" Somehow, this was the first In Ho was hearing of this tragedy. Why had Gi Hun not told Young-il?

"Ask me where I was." Gi Hun's low, angry tone could rival that of an alpha's. When no response came from his fiance, he repeated:

"ASK ME WHERE I WAS!"

Before In Ho could speak, he shouted: "IN JAIL! I saw some of YOUR guards bothering some kids who were taking food out of a garbage can. I stood up for them, and they arrested me! Threw me in jail overnight! And when I got home the next morning, my mom was DEAD!"

Furious brown eyes met In Ho's hard ones. "So can you do that, for me, YOUR HIGHNESS? Can you give me my mom? And I don't mean her body, I want HER."

The king released a heavy sigh. Finding all of this tragic information out during such an emotional time was proving to be extremely inconvenient. Nonetheless, he explained:

"Darling, I can't bring back the dead. You know that. But I can give you ANYTHING else you wish for."

"I want my family and friends. You took them from me, and I want them back."

"And I cannot do that."

The two men shared a hard stare, but Gi Hun eventually returned to his original position, albeit with his back turned further towards In Ho. "Then I won't marry you. So you should give up now and let me leave."

"Why would you want to leave?" The king could not conceive why his beloved would want to once again condemn himself to the cold, struggling, selfish world outside when he had the choice to remain with In Ho and be cared for and adored for the rest of his life.

"I want to go home." Was all Gi Hun said.

"This is your home." Here, Gi Hun could be kept safe, and the hardships that had taken his loved ones would never touch him again.

"Then you need to leave." The commoner's voice trembled a little, but In Ho could not see any tears fall. "I'm allowed to be alone in my home if I want to be."

--------------------------------------------------

I'm NOT continuing this but if I did, it would go like: Something, something In Ho being upsetti-spaghetti for 3-4 chapters that his wifey won't marry him, Gi Hun sticking it to the man until-BOOM-turns out he's pregnant (he slept with Young-il). Featuring all the Season 2 players as various palace workers, Geum-ja mothering everyone except In Ho, Il Nam mothering In Ho, and Gi Hun and Jun-Hee being pregnant together while their alpha follow them around trying to atone for their mistakes. (Myung-gi has a SMALL chance. Good luck, In Ho).

[vanpalmerenthusiast]

little ghost jackie jackieshauna thing i’ve been fiddling with

honestly this is very messy, not edited, and very confusing to read, but people were asking me to post it so here it is!!

outstretched, delicate fingers swirled in the rays of light peeking through shauna’s curtains. she was asleep, finally, after a night of insomnia lay her to rest in the early hours of morning. her deep sleep withheld any vision of the person standing above her, her fluttering eyes a telltale sign that she had entered REM. the almost translucent girl in shauna’s bedroom was small, with caramel colored hair falling softly on her shoulders and deep-set hazel eyes full of sorrow. she was wearing a blue soccer uniform, with a yellow striped collar and a bold number 9 on the right breast. a little gold heart dangled from the necklace she wore, and a yellow headband with a small bow was nestled in her shiny hair.

the girl pressed her extended fingers delicately against shauna’s warm, limp hand, spread across the mattress next to her head. a dull buzz of energy throbbed between fingertips as the honey haired girl swept falling hair from her eyes. shauna stirred, clenching her fingers tightly and then releasing them just as quick. “shauna,” the girl whispered tearfully, her soft voice somehow filling up the entire room. the sleeping girl twitched slightly, but didn’t wake. the purpling circles under her eyes were comparable to a product of disease, and her bones seemed more defined than the other girl had ever seen them. the soccer player shook her head, and decided to just let her rest.

she had been the cause of shauna’s sleepless nights, after all, and even while she slept, the girl inhabited her dreams. she quietly removed her expensive cleats, revealing blue socks that matched with her uniform, and climbed into the bed next to shauna. she pulled the blankets over her carefully, as to not wake her best friend up. she let out a soft sigh and drew the covers closer. she had been feeling very cold for quite some time, but she couldn’t put her finger on why. but watching shauna sleep, in peace for a moment, warmed her to her core, if she even had one anymore. the girl pressed her forehead to shauna’s gently, connecting them. as if they wouldn’t be so terribly connected for the rest of her life. the heat between hers and shauna’s foreheads began to feel hot as a branding iron, as if when they were separated, the evidence would be bright red and damning.

moving back, the soccer player studied shauna’s face, every quirk of her eyebrows and flutter of her eyelids while she dreamed. she wondered what she was dreaming about, but then again, she knew. shauna muttered faintly in her sleep, calling out a name that sounded strange and familiar. “jackie,” she called faintly in a low whisper, repeating the name over and over as if she was trying to remember it.

jackie was trying to remember it too, but her only comfort and memory in this unbroken purgatory was her best friend, who couldn’t feel her anymore. if shauna could no longer know her, why should she be anything worth knowing at all?

guys this is scary i’ve never posted anything fic related before bc i hate my writing

[queenshelby]

Yes! Mr Murphy (Rewritten)

PART 50: Photograph

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Lots of Angst, Age Gap, Miscarriage

PLEASE COMMENT AND ENGAGE!

Over the next view days, Max returned to Cork after Danielle put him into place and just before Cillian was due to arrive back home, your thoughts spiraled downward, drowning in self-loathing and despair. You blamed yourself for the miscarriage, convinced that it was somehow your fault.

The thought of telling Cillian weighed heavily on your shoulders, the guilt consuming you and when, on a Friday afternoon, he came bustling through the front door, eager to wrap his arms around you, you cringed inwardly, dreading the conversation that awaited you.

"Hey," he greeted you softly, his eyes lighting up at the sight of you, his heart swelling with love for you.

"Hey," you replied weakly, forcing a smile on your lips. "Welcome home," you cooed, stepping into his open arms.

His scent enveloped you, bringing comfort as he held you tightly, pressing his cheek against yours.

"I missed you," he murmured into your hair, inhaling deeply. "You smell amazing," he added playfully, smiling at you.

"I missed you too," you replied, nestling deeper into his embrace. "How was the premiere?" you asked, genuinely curious about his experience.

"It was insane," he chuckled, releasing you and guiding you both to collapse onto the couch. "Cameras everywhere," he groaned dramatically, rolling his eyes. "I hated it," he then chuckled, grabbing your hand, intertwining your fingers with his. "But I wouldn't trade it for the world since it means I am actually doing something right—right?" He looked at you questioningly, a hint of uncertainty lingering in his eyes.

"Definitely," you agreed, nodding earnestly. "It's a testament to your talent," you continued, squeezing his hand affectionately before pulling him close for a kiss and, immediately, the tension between you eased as the familiarity of your relationship kicked in.

"Thank you," he murmured, cupping your chin, tilting your face upward for another passionate kiss. His eyes sparkled with happiness as he pulled your body closer. "I'm glad I'm home," he whispered, his voice low and husky.

You smiled softly, feeling the familiar warmth spread through your veins. "Me too," you replied, tracing the lines of his palm with your thumb before, suddenly, breaking out in tears. 

"Hey, what's wrong?" Cillian asked, looking concerned. "Is everything okay?" he asked, panicking as you fell into his arms once more. 

"No," you choked out, trying to regain control of your emotions. "I...," you stammered. "The baby," you began, swallowing hard as your tears cascaded down your cheeks. "I lost the baby," you whispered, your voice cracking with sorrow.

Cillian's eyes widened in disbelief, his grip tightening around your hand.

"You had a miscarriage?" Cillian asked, his voice strained, his face pale.

"Yes," you replied, wiping away fresh tears. "It happened a week ago. I was too afraid to tell you because I didn't want you to worry about me during the premieres. I am so sorry," you sobbed, your chest heaving with deep sobs.

Cillian's eyes grew wide with shock, but he quickly wrapped his arms around you, holding you close. "Shhh, it's okay," he whispered softly, brushing the tears from your cheeks. "I'm here now, and I promise we'll get through this together."

"But I've gone through this twice now," you whimpered, burying your face in his shirt. "I am a fucking failure," you sobbed, your words muffled by his clothing.

Cillian rocked you gently, holding you close, whispering sweet words of reassurance into your ear. "Shh, none of this is your fault," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "And I know that the pregnancy wasn't planned, but we can try again if you like," he promised, his tone filled with conviction. "When the time is right, we will have a family together if this is what you want," he added, his eyes glistening with unshed tears.

"But my body is broken, Cillian. It clearly is," you said, pulling away from his warm embrace. "It keeps failing me and, honestly, I am terrified of getting pregnant again. I mean, what if I lose another pregnancy? That would kill me," you confessed, biting your lip nervously.

Cillian's eyes welled up with tears as he watched you struggle, his heart aching for you. "Hey, stop talking like that," he scolded softly, cupping your face in his hands. "None of this is your fault. And, whatever happens, we'll face it together. There are alternative options these days. IVF, surrogacy, adoption," Cillian said, lifting your chin with his finger. "Whatever you decide, we will make it work."

"But you even said that you didn't want any children," you reminded him, still reeling from the sudden change in direction.

"Yet, I also said that I loved you, and I'm willing to do whatever it takes to be with you," Cillian declared passionately, his eyes locked on yours. "And if you want to become a mother then we will make it happen together. I'm not going anywhere," he swore, gripping your hands tightly, but you knew that you were not ready to face the possibility of losing another pregnancy.

"I appreciate your willingness to go through all that," you whispered, snuggling closer to him. "But I just need some time to think. Like you said, the pregnancy wasn't even planned and, still, I became excited about the prospect of having a child with you," you explained while Cillian ran his fingers through your hair.

"Take all the time you need," Cillian assured you, running his fingers through your hair. "I love you," he murmured, pulling you closer, embracing you tightly. "More than anything," he said. 

"I love you too," you murmured, nestling your head into his shoulder, clinging onto him like a lifeline until, eventually, you calmed down.

As you regained your composure, Cillian's grip on you loosened, replaced by a soothing caress.

"You know there is something that might cheer you up a little," he suggested, his voice soft and hopeful.

"What's that?" you asked warily, wiping your tears away with an apprehensive glance.

"Well, let me get my bag and I show you," Cillian replied before reaching for his messenger bag that was slung over the armrest. 

He then pulled out an envelope and handed it to you and, when you took it from him and opened it, you noticed a familiar photograph tucked neatly inside.

It was of you, your mother and two siblings before you crossed the border to America and, although it was crumpled and faded from years of storage, it instantly transported you back to that time.

"Where did you get this?" you gasped, holding the photo carefully in your hands. 

"Your mother gave it to me," Cillian explained and, immediately, your chin dropped. You had not seen your mother since you were a young child as, when you came to America, she gave you and your siblings up for adoption. Whether intentional or whether she was forced to do so, you did not know and life for you since had been a living nightmare. You grew up in terrible Forster homes until the age of 16, and then you moved to a group home where you stayed until you turned 18. In those years, you developed a tough shell to survive and a sharp tongue to cut down anyone who dared to hurt you. Still, even with your bravado, you were scarred by your past and haunted by memories which constantly plagued you.

"How?" you teared up again, tears filling the corners of your eyes. "Where did you meet her?" you asked anxiously, tracing the creases in the photo with your index finger.

"She came to one of the premiers, hoping that you would be there with me after seeing us in one of those ridiculous gossip magazines," Cillian revealed, his eyes meeting yours tenderly. "Apparently, she's been searching for you for years and has even tried to contact my agent who brushed it off as a hoax," he explained, handing you a folded piece of paper from within the envelope.

"That's a travel itinerary," you said, your voice trembling slightly. 

"Yes," Cillian confirmed, his eyes meeting yours with a mix of curiosity and concern. "I booked her flight for next week. Hopefully she has passport sorted by then," Cillian explained, seeing that she had never been on a plane before. 

"Oh my god," you exclaimed, tears streaming down your face. "I'm going to see her again," you cried, clutching the itinerary tightly in your hands. Despite the emotional turmoil of the past few weeks, you couldn't help but feel overwhelmed with joy at the idea of reuniting with your mother.

"What is if it is a hoax?" you questioned, unable to contain your fear. "I mean, are you sure it is her? The woman on the photograph?" you whispered, your voice quivering slightly.

"Yes," Cillian answered, his eyes meeting yours with a mix of curiosity and concern. "She knows your middle name and she told me about your birth mark. I am certain that it is her," Cillian affirmed, his voice steady and confident, causing you to sigh with relief. 

"What does she look like now?" you asked, suddenly becoming  more and more intrigued. "Does she look old?" you wanted to know, causing Cillian to chuckle.

"Well, she is about my age I would say, so I wouldn't call that old," Cillian said, raising his eyebrow at you and, for the first time that day, you genuinely laughed. 

"Well, you do look particularly young for your age though, Mr Murphy," you retorted, grinning mischievously at him.

"I know. I get told all the time," Cillian joked, causing you to laugh harder. You hadn't felt this lighthearted in weeks and you relished the feeling that enveloped you.

"Why do you do that?" you asked abruptly, interrupting your laughter. "Why do you take care of me so much?" you questioned, suddenly remembering your earlier fears and doubts.

"Because I love you, Y/N," Cillian declared boldly, his eyes shining with confidence. "I love you so fucking much!" Cillian exclaimed, his voice breaking slightly.

"I love you too, Cillian," you replied, the words coming naturally to you and, with that, you felt as though, perhaps, at least some things were slowly falling into place. 

Tags:

@sunbeamseas @saint-ackerman @oatmealisweird @naxxsstuff @amanda08319 @r-m-cidnah @elysiannook @cillshot @infireddabdab @tastycakee @harrysbestiee @lilybabe22 @adalynlowell @henrywintersdearestgirl @ietss @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @ryiamarie @axionn

@heidimoreton @nela-cutie @futurecorps3 @delishen @nosebleeds-247 @thirteenis-myluckynumber @gills-lounge @hjmalmed @lost-fantasy @tiredkitten @sidechrisporn @smallsoulunknown @charqing-qing @hopefulinlove @aporiasposts @shycrybaby @me-and-your-husband @hjmalmed @lacontroller1991 @galxydefender @aporiasposts

@galxydefender @hunnibearrr @saint-ackerman @lunyyx @gentlemonsterjennie1 @ihavealotoffandomssorry @nadloves @lost-fantasy @nolucesn@mcavoy-girl @hjmalmed @bloodybagels @obeyme4life @richiesgroupie @blushykiss @tatumrileyslover @teawithsatanx @orijanko @rhaenyra4ever @xcinnamonmalfoyx @budugu @nadloves @kmc1989 @bloodybagels @obeyme4life @richiesgroupie @forgottenpeakywriter

[sarahsoba]

Faking Fate Chapter 1

Hi guys! This is my first real attempt at a fanfiction! I'm much more of an artist than a writer so please be kind to me. I struggle with words. Any constructive criticism is appreciated! Enjoy! WARNING!!! Semi graphic depiction of a suicide attempt within the lines! Please read with caution!

Day. This had to be Day. But how was she in Day? 

The courtyard she sat in was made of mostly white marble pillars, beautiful lush, vibrant foliage surrounded by smooth cobblestone that led to a large fountain with a lion trickling water from its mouth.

She had just been on the mountain with Cassian, being punished for being a terrible person and sister. She somehow managed to steal his dagger while he slept. She had left their makeshift campsite, went somewhere far away to where he wouldn't be able to scent what she had intended to do. But then, rage and sorrow filled her, mostly directed towards herself. And now…

She had felt the pop of involuntary magic as she winnowed into the Day court and landed in the middle of a courtyard. 

Nesta took in her surroundings slowly, white knuckle clutching Cassian’s dagger in her hand that she had aimed at her own arm, now settled at her side. She had ached to feel the pain of that dagger. It's cold metal slice her skin to give her a sweet release. But she had been reckless. Cassian likely knew she was gone by this point. She was sure he'd be here to collect her within the hour.

The cold of the night settled deep in her skin. She was shaking, despite not being able to feel much of anything. Frozen tears streamed down her face as the reality of her situation truly hit her. 

“Who just winnowed past my wards? I- …Nesta? Nesta Archeron?” 

Nesta turned to look at the hulking figure of the High Lord of the Day Court. His dark golden skin practically glowing despite it being late into the night and the golden cuffs in his locs shined in the moonlight. He looked at her with brows furrowed with worry as he approached her slowly. He inched closer and got down on one cautious knee, his hands coming up non threateningly.

”Nesta, are you okay?” He asked in a voice so soft, so delicate, it seemed like the words weren’t directed at her. They couldn’t have been. Nesta was a cruel and selfish being. Everyone seemed to know it and treat her as such. She was unlovable, just as Cassian had said. She must have looked awful in that moment, and that was the only reason he was pitying her.

But the warmth he seemed to radiate, made her feel safe. That and his kind words was all it took for Nesta to break down in sobs.

Helion carefully removed the knife from her grasp and tossed it aside before opening his arms to her, silently offering an embrace. One which she selfishly took. 

”Oh, Nesta. What happened to you?”

All she could do was shake her head and convulse into more heart wrenching sobs.

“You’re safe now Nesta.” He said firmly. “Is anyone in immediate danger?” 

She shook her head. 

“Okay, then let's get you taken care of. Whatever happened can be discussed over breakfast tomorrow. Some good sleep in a warm bed fixes almost everything.” He soothed, picking up the knife and helping her to her feet. 

He took her to a guest room near his own quarters and got her a change of clothes in silence. Nesta sat on the edge of the bed when Helion spoke again: “We’ll discuss what happened tomorrow. Everything will be okay Nesta, I promise.” He said soothingly, voice soft as if he were speaking to a sleeping child. 

Nesta merely nodded her head, eyes casted downwards, cursing herself internally for her weaknesses being on full display, and for a High Lord no less.

Helion moved about the room, gathering soaps, towels, a night gown among other things to prepare her for bed. He didn’t have to do this, take care of a degenerate like her. The sinking feeling of guilt weighed heavily in her stomach, making her nauseous. 

“There. You should be set for the night. Do you need anything else?” He asked, speaking to her carefully like she was a frightened animal.

Nesta shook her head, eyes glancing to the dagger that now sat on the dresser near the door.

Helion nodded, stood there for a moment longer, gaze lingering on her as if he were thinking to himself, before excusing himself so she could get ready for bed. 

______________________________________________________________

Nesta sat in silence for what felt like hours, on the verge of tears but refusing to let them fall. Instead an icy sense of determination fell over her and a moment of resolve steeled her heart. Helion had forgotten to take the knife if he meant to take it at all. 

Cassians’s knife seemed to glare at her from across the room. She was certain it was his favorite knife. Would he be able to even look at it the same way, or even touch it after what she was about to do? No, he’d be fine. No one loved her. That included him. To think anything else was foolish.

 She got up and snatched it from the dresser and stalked into the bathroom. Nesta filled the tub with water and removed the outer layers of her armor, leaving her only in an undershirt and pants. Stepping into the tub, she sank in and left the water running.

It took everything in her being to not seize up at the feeling of being back in a cauldron like tub. She white-knuckle clutched the sides and took several deep breaths. She wanted to go out on her own terms, not in fear. It took several long minutes of deep breathing and hyping herself up to finally get her heart rate back to normal.

With shaking hands, she took the knife in her grip and ran it down her arm, watching the blood begin to pour out in morbid fascination before doing the same to the other. 

She let herself bleed, putting her arms beneath the water so someone wouldn’t smell the blood coming from her room. 

______________________________________________________________

When the wounds began closing due to her fast fae healing, she took the knife with shaking hands and reopened the wounds, until she could feel her consciousness begin to slip and she faded into the blackness.

 When she finally came too again, white light flashed at her from above, rousing her further from her sleep. Was this it? Did she succeed?

“Nesta?” a deep voice called, the voice sounding distant and muffled. 

She moaned as she shook herself awake. Upon opening her eyes she saw that she was still in the Day court, but as she looked around she realized she wasn't in her room, but in another, much more sterile environment. Another unfamiliar male stood off to the side, watching her curiously. But Helion was right beside her bedside, holding her hand. As she came further into her senses, she could feel the wrappings on her arm. She cursed to herself in frustration, “Why couldn't you just let me die?” She said, voice raspy from disuse. 

“Nesta, I’m not going to let you die. Not when I can do something about it.” Helion said firmly, but Nesta could see the guilt behind his gaze. “Can you tell me what happened that made you feel like this was your only option?”

Nesta didn't have the energy to fight it any longer, so she told him everything. From the cruel words at the dinners with the inner circle, to Cassian laughing at her nearly dying as she fell down the ten thousand steps, all the way to Nesta telling her sister about the risk the baby had on her life and the aftermath of that. Nesta watched as Helion began looking more hostile as she spoke. As if her words angered him. Once she finished she retracted into herself, “I-I’m sorry, it’s really not that big of a deal.” she tried to downplay. 

“No, Nesta. It is a big deal, especially if you feel like killing yourself is the only way to happiness.” he said gently, despite the rage that seemed to continue to burn in his eyes.

She shook her head, “I just… I don't want to go back. I can't…” she said, trailing off as tears filled her eyes. “But even then they’ll find me. They’ll come looking for me. I’m too valuable to them for my magic.”

“What if…” Helion began, “We could find a way to make sure they don't come after you?” He offered gently, “Like… Faking your death, for example.”

“You, you would do that for me?” She asked hesitantly. What did he want in return?

“Yes, If they think you’re dead they wont come looking for you. You’ll be free to live your life here in the day court or anywhere else you please.” he said, truly making the offer seem irresistible. 

“What… What do you want in return?” Nesta asked, “I don’t have anything to give you.”

Helion smiled sadly, “Nothing Nesta. I just want to see you happy and healthy. You saved my life in the battle against Hybern. It’s the least I can do.” 

Nesta considered her options. It really was a win-win scenario. Her sister and her family were free of her and she would be free of them. She truly couldn't see any downsides to it the more she thought of it. 

“Alright. Let’s do it.”

Next Chapter

[hungarianshinobi]

Reliving the past - Kokushibo x Reader

-Chapter 1 https://www.tumblr.com/hungarianshinobi/781533736478146560/reliving-the-past-kokushibo-x-freader-ongoing?source=share

-Chapter 2

https://www.tumblr.com/hungarianshinobi/781559273450799105/reliving-the-past-kokushibo-x-freader-ongoing?source=share

-Chapter 3

https://www.tumblr.com/hungarianshinobi/781636435765755904/reliving-the-past-kokushibo-x-reader-ongoing?source=share

Chapter 4:

Third person POV:

Kokushibo looked at her with a mixture of longing and sadness in his eyes. He gently released her wrist and took a step back, trying to process the mix of emotions that are swirling inside him. He knows that she is not his wife from 500 years ago, but the resemblance is uncanny, making it hard for him to separate the past from the present.

He clenched his jaw as he struggles to control the flood of memories that threatened to overwhelm him.

He could feel the ache in his chest as he looked at her, the resemblance to his long-lost wife almost too much to bear. He tried to push away the longing in his heart, the hope that this could somehow be a second chance for him. But deep down, he knew the truth... that she is not her, just a cruel reminder of what he lost.

He took a deep breath, forcing himself to focus on the present moment. He knew he must tread carefully, for both her sake and his own. He can't afford to let his emotions get the best of him, not when there is still so much at stake.

But as he looked into her eyes, he can't help but feel a glimmer of hope. Maybe, just maybe, there is a chance for him to find some peace in this eternal cycle of life and loss.

Kokushibo's gaze drifted away, lost in the shadows of his memories. The moonlight seeping through the thin curtains casted a soft glow on his face, illuminating the lines of sorrow etched deeply into his features. Even as a demon.

He recalled the days spent with his wife. Her laughter, the way her eyes sparkled like stars, and the warmth of her presence that had once filled his heart with joy. Those moments felt like a distant dream now, a life that was stolen from him by the relentless march of time and his own choices.

He shifted his weight, feeling the burden of his past pressing heavily on his shoulders. "It is strange," he begun, his voice low and steady, "to be confronted with something that echoes the past so vividly. You remind me of her in ways that are both comforting and painful." He paused, searching for the right words, the right way to express the turmoil inside him.

The woman in front of her didn't know what he was talking about of course. Yet she listened to his every word with sharp ears.

"I know it is foolish to hold onto such feelings, yet here I stand, caught between what was and what can never be." Kokushibo spoke, mostly to himself rather than her.

His eyes returned to her, searching for understanding. "Perhaps this is my punishment," he continued, a hint of bitterness creeping into his tone. "To witness the world move on while I remain trapped in the memories of my failures and regrets. I have become a specter of my former self, unable to escape the shadows of my past."

"W-what do you mean?" (Y/n) wanted to understand the demon in front of her. She can’t help but want to understand the man behind the mask of a demon. There’s a conflict within her. The horror of what he is clashes with a curiosity about who he was.

She watched his face for clues, trying to decipher the unsaid words hanging in the air. Despite her apprehension, there's an odd pull, as if she felt a connection to the sorrow etched in his features.

Could there be more to him than just a monster everyone fears? Hearing his words, for her, he sounded almost...

...almost human?

Kokushibo's stoic facade cracked ever so slightly, revealing the vulnerability that lied beneath.

(Y/n) sitting before him, brings forth a flicker of hope he thought long extinguished. It terrified him, yet he couldn't help but be drawn to it.

He took a step closer, his expression softening. Yet, the question lingered in his mind: What if it is merely an illusion? A cruel trick played by fate?

He hesitated, his heart racing as he grappled with the conflicting emotions swirling within him.

Kokushibo sensed the shift in the air, the tension between them transforming into a fragile thread of connection. He took a breath, steadying himself against the storm rising inside him.

No... Not yet... He couldn't do it...

(Y/n) hardly dared to breathe. The silence between them stretched, thick with unspoken thoughts, until Kokushibo finally spoke again, his voice lower, more distant this time.

"There was a time when I believed strength would bring me peace. That if I transcended mortality, I could outrun the pain."

He looked down at his own hands, long, clawed, tainted by centuries of blood. "But strength has only made me lonelier."

The quiet confession settled between them like mist. (Y/n) felt a strange tightness in her chest, as though she were grieving for a man she’d never known.

"You were human once…" she whispered.

He nodded once. "A long time ago. Before I became this."

He didn’t need to explain what 'this' meant. She could see it in his form, in his unnatural stillness, in the way the moonlight cast eerie shadows along his jawline. And yet, in this moment, she saw no demon, only a man haunted by his past.

"I’m sorry." she said, surprising even herself.

Kokushibo’s eyes widened faintly, his gaze meeting hers. "Why?"

"Because no one deserves to carry so much pain alone."

For a moment, he looked at her as if she had said something truly foreign to him. Compassion. Kindness. It was not something he had known for a long, long time.

He took another step toward her. Close enough now that she could feel the quiet intensity of his presence. She didn’t flinch. Instead, she lifted her chin slightly, meeting him with quiet defiance… and something else. Understanding.

"Even if I am no longer human." he murmured, "you look at me as if I am."

"Because maybe." she replied, "a part of you still is."

His breath hitched. A small, near-invisible movement, but she saw it.

That fragile thread between them grew taut, delicate yet undeniable. The weight of centuries pressed down on Kokushibo’s shoulders, but for the first time in what felt like eternity… it didn’t feel as unbearable.

He reached out, not touching her, but stopping just short, fingers hovering near her cheek. The hesitation was palpable.

"I do not understand what fate seeks to teach me through you." he whispered, voice trembling like a blade at rest. "But I fear… I am not strong enough to ignore it."

The air around them was charged. Not with fear, but with something far more dangerous: hope.

(Y/n) found herself leaning slightly into his presence, drawn not just by curiosity, but something deeper. Something she couldn’t name.

She wasn’t afraid of him. Not anymore.

And Kokushibo… he didn’t dare move. As if the smallest motion might shatter whatever fragile thing was blooming between them.

"Then don’t ignore it." she said softly.

Without thinking, (Y/n) reached out, drawn by an emotion she couldn’t fully understand and let her fingers brush against the edge of Kokushibo’s hand.

It was the barest touch. Soft. Tentative. But the moment their skin met, a jolt surged through her. It wasn’t pain. It was light. Blinding, searing light that filled her vision and stole her breath.

She gasped, but her voice was swallowed by the overwhelming white that tore through the room like a storm.

The world around her rippled. Warped. Collapsed in on itself. For one brief, disorienting instant, she felt as though her body had shattered into a thousand pieces, scattered through a void of light and shadow.

Then came the fall. She was falling. Not through air, but through something much stranger. Something ancient. Like she was plunging through the seams of time itself.

And then- Darkness. Cold, damp, suffocating.

When she opened her eyes again, the world had changed. It was night. The smell of blood hung heavy in the air. Her head pounded as she sat up slowly, her hands trembling against a wooden floor slick with something warm and wet.

She blinked. And saw them. Two bodies. A man and a woman, crumpled on the floor not far from her. Their throats had been slit cleanly. Blood pooled beneath them, staining the wooden floorboards and seeping into the tatami mats.

(Y/n)’s breath caught in her throat. What…? Where was she?

Her heart raced as her gaze darted around the room. The architecture was old, traditional shōji doors, wooden beams, a low table overturned nearby. An oil lamp flickered weakly in the corner, casting dancing shadows across the walls.

Suddenly, a thud echoed across the floor. She turned, just in time to see a tall figure standing a few feet away. His katana was still embedded in the neck of a grotesque, now-lifeless creature sprawled at his feet. Its body was monstrous, clearly not human. A demon.

The man pulled his blade free in one smooth motion, wiping the blood on his hakama before sheathing it in a swift, practiced movement.

Then, he turned to face her. And her breath stopped. He looked like Kokushibo- but younger. Human. His eyes were both purple, intense yet thoughtful. His long black hair was tied back in a loose, warrior’s knot, strands falling over his sharp features. His kimono bore the marks of the demon slayers, dark fabric patterned with subtle silver accents, stained now with fresh blood.

Despite the violence that surrounded him, he radiated a calm strength. Commanding. Noble.

And when he spoke, his voice was deep and composed, with the distinct cadence of a samurai. "Are you injured?" he asked, stepping toward her, eyes scanning her for wounds.

(Y/n) could only stare. The man in front of her was a stranger… And yet something about him felt achingly familiar.

She tried to speak, but only a ragged breath escaped her lips. Her hands trembled, her head throbbed, and every sense in her body screamed against what she was seeing. The bodies. The blood. The man who had slain a demon as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

"I... I don’t understand..." she whispered.

The man, Michikatsu, did not step closer. He stopped a respectful distance away, radiating calm and solemn attention.

"This must be a terrible shock to you." he said gently. There was genuine sympathy in his voice, free of condescension or coldness. "If I had arrived sooner, perhaps I could have saved them. I’m truly sorry... for the death of your parents."

(Y/n) blinked at him in confusion. "My... parents?" Her voice was fragile, shaking. "My parents are alive. They’re... at home... not here..." Her voice faltered. "I don’t know what this is. I don’t know where I am."

A slight flicker crossed Michikatsu’s face, perhaps surprise or concern, but he masked it quickly. Instead, he nodded slowly, speaking with soft certainty.

"The demon attacked without warning. It left no survivors... except for you. Maybe the shock is affecting your memory..." His eyes scanned her, not suspiciously, but protectively, like a warrior surveying the lone survivor of a battlefield.

"But I don’t-" (Y/n) protested weakly. "I’m not... I mean-" Her voice trailed off. Even to her own ears, it sounded like madness. And yet, deep inside, she knew it was true. Something had happened. Something impossible.

Michikatsu’s expression hardened for a moment, as if her words struck a hidden chord within him. But he didn’t question her. He only said quietly, "You are safe now. I promise, I won’t let any harm come to you again."

His words stirred a strange sensation inside her. The world was unfamiliar, the place, the clothes, the atmosphere, but there was something about it... something oddly familiar. Something her heart recognized, even if her mind did not.

(Y/n)’s gaze drifted once more to the two lifeless bodies, to the pool of blood, to the silent, shadowed room. To the demon Michikatsu had just slain.

This couldn’t be a dream. This... was real.

Whatever had happened, she was no longer where she used to be. And the man standing before her, he was not Kokushibo. Not yet.

He was someone who once loved. Someone who once lost. And now, she had met him again...

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

End of Chapter 4

Comments and feedbacks are always appreciated! ❤️

-Hungarian Shinobi

[shuririsecretl0v3r]

the rush

pairing: shuri x riri

warnings/ situations: suggestive themes~ teasing, sneaking around, heavy PDA, very touchy touchy but that’s as far as it gets; caught in the act

a/n: hello beauties💕💕! this is wayy over due shuriri week maybe over but these two are frolicking around my mind 24/7. this is my first time writing some with so much intimacy so bare with me😭😭🙏🏾. please enjoyyy and lmk what you think. 

word count: 1.6k +

song inspo:

“ I look around and I get that rush

Baby, 'cause tonight I'ma tryna catch that

Feelin', Mm

You just my type

I really wanna feel it

I want your leg against my thigh

I want the rush “

It’s been two years since Queen Ramonda had passed and life as Shuri knew it never was the same. Having to accept the cruel reality of losing all of her family members and taking up the duties as Black Panther wasn’t making it easier either. Everyday felt like a burden and she somewhat felt guilty for even being able to live while all of her family resided in the Ancestral Plane. She would have drowned in her own sorrow had it not been for ngelosi yam ( my angel ) sent from Bast herself.

Riri Williams, the young American scientist who somehow managed to rope herself into some serious trouble had caught the attention of the Princess. Shuri didn’t know if it was from her brilliant mindset or her unapologetic cocky confidence with a beautiful face. Getting to know her was even better cause under all that tough skin was a young girl trying to repair her past by being a hero for the future. She too had her own experience with the loss of family and ones she dearly loved so leaning on her even just for a little while was easy and comforting.

The two were inseparable soon after. Before the thought of dating even occurred, they were good friends. They kept in contact once she had to go back home. Early-morning texts and late-night calls held them surprisingly well. Call it trauma bonding, but Riri kept her steady. Shuri was able to feel again and heal herself well. With Riri by her side, she too soon gained her confidence back and helped rebuild Wakanda into a new era of life, both of which created new and improved safety protocols for the nation.

Life was beginning to look brighter for the Panther. Her feelings for Riri grew more intense each and every day to the point she couldn’t handle them any longer. To her clueless surprise, the young American scientist was just as in love as she was. And their relationship flourished since that moment. The two didn’t know how to announce their relationship so they thought it best to be discreet for now, but that didn’t stop them from secretly knowing looks and lingering touches every time they were near each other. The women were very much in love and everyone could see it, yet waited patiently for the news.

They couldn’t help it either. Long distance was a struggle for them, but that made each moment they spent together heavenly and intense. Cause once the two were reunited things always got a little handsy. This moment was no different either.

Riri finally had time to come back to Wakanda making it almost 5 months since both of them had ( touched ) seen each other. The moment she laid eyes on her Riri, she was astonished. Riri had her hair in a style called butterfly locs with some of them half in a ponytail and half down her back while two locs hung in her face. She wore a black crop top shirt that read “ babygirl “ which was bedazzled in rhinestones and had on black baggy sweatpants that she immediately recognized were hers. Everything about Riri was absolutely alluring to her. The young scientist was blossoming into her young adult self and it had the Panther ready to pounce on her in front of the whole lab.

The two hugged each other, missing the feeling of each other’s skin both seemingly having to keep composure over themselves. Once they released each other, both went straight to work. Though Shuri’s mind was elsewhere captured by the presence of her lover. She couldn’t help but scan down her muscular toned body. Having to operate her suit definitely took a toll on her body in the best way. The longer she stared engraving every detail of the young woman’s body again. Remembering her soft spots, the way she smells, and how soft her skin feels underneath her fingertips. That’s when she notices how every time Riri raises her arms even slightly, her new now freshly healed back tattoo just peeking out to her. At that moment Shuri could not contain her desire to herself.

“ Hey Ri can I talk to you for a minute “ before Riri could even respond Shuri grabbed her hand dragging her out of the lab and down to her living quarters. Not even making it halfway down the hall, Shuri pulls Riri behind a pillar and crashes their lips together. They groan in unity both relieved by the taste and feeling of one another. So caught up in the moment not even caring that they were still in the halls of the palace for anyone to see.

Riri pulls away trying to catch her breath. “ You just couldn’t help yourself could you ? “ she says while laughing at her. Shuri just smiles and bites her lip.

“ I could never contain my love for you, “ she says while twirling one of her locs with her finger. She stares deep into those big brown eyes of Riri's, thanking Bast for reuniting them together at last. “ I need you sthandwa sam (my love). Will you let me have you ? “ pure desire oozes through the Panther’s voice as she pulls Riri’s body closer to hers again. Grabbing her by the head, Riri gives her what she needs. The energy shifts during this kiss both women completely drunk off each other’s lips. At this point, a couple of Doras roam the halls stumbling on both women quickly retreating to where they were giving the two privacy.

Shuri’s hands caress every inch of her body, getting the familiar feeling of her again. Riri lifts her leg snaking it around Shuri’s waist, opening herself more to the Panther. In one swift move, Shuri picks her up carrying her the rest of the way. Not bothering to look where she’s going only trusting her instincts as their minds flooded with lust. Riri softly traces her fingertips up and down the Panther’s neck sending shivers down her spine. Rushing into her living quarters, Shuri heads for the bed plopping her right in the center. She climbs on top of her, aligning them face to face. Beginning to shower her in kisses from her forehead to neck slowly making her way down savoring the moment afraid she might slip away from her again. Riri had other plans though, clawing at the hem of Shuri’s pants wanting all of her now. Shuri chuckles at her eagerness, moving her hand off of her. She towers over Riri starting to remove her clothes herself till a voice chimes in out of thin air.

“ Panther, there is a lab emergency that requires you and Miss Williams's assistance, “ Griot said suddenly snapping the pair out of their trance. Completely forgotten about the lab and the work that needs to be done, they both laugh realizing how much they might have missed each other. They fix themselves up and head back to the lab. Putting their needs on hold, drowning themselves into work. Hours pass through rapidly, plenty of things to fix filling the time. Sunset is almost upon them leaving the lab mostly empty except for a few scientists finishing up.

Riri was at her station tidying up her area not noticing the Panther creeping up behind her. That’s when she feels her hands pressing into her sides firmly trapping her between the table and her lover. Shuri moves her hair out of the way and kisses down her neck flowing through her sweet spots. Riri immediately arches her back letting the Panther consume her with love. One hand still gripping her side while another begins to trail down to the waistband of her sweats. Riri sucks in her breath, careful to keep quiet in case others are still around.

The two once again caught up in each other's bodies not noticing Ayo arriving in the lab. There to retrieve the Panther for the council meeting, Ayo looks around for her stumbling on both of them pressed up against a station table not caring to check their surroundings. Though she did not wish to disturb them, the matter was urgent.

“ Ahem “ Ayo spoke loudly, startling Shuri and Riri who quickly unraveled each other. They spot the General coming towards them as they embarrassedly fix themselves for the second time today. “ Apologies, Panther did not wish to disturb you two, but King M’Baku and the Elders require your attendance for the council meeting, “ she said.

Shuri completely forgot about the meeting only having Riri racing through her mind. Riri giggles a little knowing it was her fault for this forgetfulness. She looks over at her laughing and pulls her back closer to her body smiling deeply. “ Yes of course. Please let the King and the Elders know I’m heading towards them now “ she replied. Ayo nods her head and salutes the Panther as she turns to exit the lab.

“ Well, I guess the secrets out. She'll definitely tell everyone how she just caught us in this lab “ Riri whines.

“ Too late for that we’ve already been caught Ri. I saw some Doras spot us in the hallway earlier “ she said while chuckling. Shocked she kept that from her, Riri playfully hits her a couple of times. She grabs her hands to dodge her attempts to strike her. Bringing them to her lips, she gently kisses her palms. The two never missing a moment to show affection for each other.

“ See ya back at the room? “ Riri asks.

“ Yeah, I’ll see you “ the pair kiss goodbye and go their separate ways hoping for no more distractions for the rest of the day.