#but its a bit strange when people just. seem to forget that? like i said recognizing this is one of the most important skills you can have-

[st5lker]

super long post sorry i just upped my dose of vyvanse so i have a lot to say. anyways one strange phenomenon i find on tumblr although it really shouldnt be surprising by now i suppose is the fact that people seem to believe that everything has an objective answer. and like yeah of course this is the Nuance is Dead website but its still strange to me like ive been making many polls recently on things im genuinely curious to see differing opinions on, because theyre on inherently divisive topics that i really dont believe there's any "right" answer to (the 'is it weird when gay people sexually fantasize about converting straight people' being the biggest one but also that one i just made abt adhd and autism), but the replies to a lot of those polls have people seeming to talk as if there are objective measurable ways to prove a 'right' and 'wrong' answer on topics that ultimately dont affect all that much. questions like that will always have different reactions from different people, even people who generally agree on most big topics, because everyones life experiences and individual opinions will give them different reactions and morals to minute topics like that and its not like you can make legislation or policy about something like that no matter how strongly people might feel in one direction or the other so it ultimately comes down to your own opinion/sense of morals and curating your own experiences.

but people seem to speak about everything as if its another "should you be conservative or not" where the "difference of opinion" is basically whether or not you can recognize easily proved facts or if just straight up do not want minorities to have rights. and the consequences of having the wrong opinion result in real and tangible actions with massive impact (legislation). i think people got so exhausted about people treating issues like that as if they're "ambiguous" when there's a really obvious answer for everyone that isnt a bigot that they started seeing every single issue as if there must be a "correct" answer as well, but the reality is that for the vast vast majority of things there isnt anywhere close to an objective answer, even within the popular leftist moral compass.

there is no "correct" answer to lgbt discourse. yes even that discourse that youre thinking of right now. there is no "correct" answer to the morality of liking some media, or having some sexual fantasy. like, when it comes to things that i and all of my friends feel very strongly about, like some of those fantasies or lgbt discourse, i can and will shame or judge or debate or distance myself from people who disagree with me, because i have every right to. recognizing that morality is subjective doesnt mean i can't care. it just doesnt mean i think im objectively "correct". im going off of my own sense of morality, yknow? which is fine! we don't really have any choice but to do that in order to make progress. but i still AM doing that and i can recognize that because i think its important to, and doesnt undermine my own morals.

so i suppose its just a bit strange to me when people act like theres objective answers on things like that when like, you can never objectively prove morality because it's inherently subjective. even the basic question of "do you want to help or harm other human beings" gets muddied, because for as much as it might seem evil (and i honestly think it's evil as well), someone can truly and earnestly define "morality" as a based on helping yourself first and alone with no regard to other humans. i think everyone has every right to not want to associate with people who have certain opinions/do certain things, or even to associate with people who associate with them. its extremely easy to curate who you associate with in this day and age. but its still extremely strange to me when people talk about morality as if it is objective. i understand why, i do, i'm not really criticizing anyone for it especially since this is all about how things are worded and you cant always be like 'but remember this is subjective!' in every argument so i get it. but i think if you're reading this and realizing that you haven't been thinking of morality as subjective, it might be time to start. not because i want to defend anyone, really, but because understanding and recognizing that morality is subjective is a prerequisite to being able to change other people's minds and move the world towards your own sense of morality

[cumironi]

OH, I'M DESTROYED : GOJO SATORU

he's your best friend— gojo satoru, he's getting married soon with kids on the way even though your heart is craving for each other, you sarcastically, jokingly tell him, “pleased? oh, I'm destroyed,” after hearing the news, he laughed, almost crying as he looks at you.

w/c. 3,4k

warning : non-sorcerer! gojo satoru. little bit angst. (idk)

p.s. when i said the reader didn't believe in god it's just for writing purposes, i, myself too believe in god. this fiction is inspired by one day series episodes 8? I forget.

“y/n, can we talk?”

there he is, satoru gojo— your bestfriend, your other half, your oasis in the desert, your everything. standing with two of his warm, delicate hands stuffed into his pocket. a warm smile makes themselves home on his handsome face. his blue eyes— satoru gojo’s blue eyes, shimmered like the clearest ocean on a sunlit day, mesmerizing depths promising thousand, endless even, unspoken emotions.

each glance felt like being wrapped in the gentle embrace of a summer breeze, full of warmth and tender affection. his eyes held a universe of mystery and allure, making it impossible to look away, as if they whispered secrets of love and devotion only meant for you— hah, you wish’ you thought.

“sure,” you smile.

your hands gripping the bouquet tightly, so tight the spine cuts through your finger without you realizing. you two walk side by side into the maze behind the chapel where suguru geto and shoko ieiri weddings are held, yours and gojo’s other friends. you refuse to look at him, sparing the man a glance that feels strange after all those two years living your life with no contact from him, neither do you try to reach him, at least not after the fight you have that night.

“how are you doing, y/n?”

the simple question lingers through the air for quite a time when the two enter the maze. your silken hair is pretty, falling gently, enchanting, on your back, touching the soft material of your bridesmaid dress, a blue one, the same color as his eyes— oh, his eyes.

you look to your left to fulfill the starving of your heart, take a glimpse by a glimpse of his frame. two years was too long without seeing those pretty eyes, those warm smiles, those pretty long white lashes, those . . . no, just him.

“it was fine,” lied, of course.

you couldn’t find the courage to pour your heart out, you wouldn’t dare. you wouldn’t dare to tell your best friend how much the longing, how thousand days and nights, and each time you closed your eyes there he was before you, standing in the void inside your dream, how he all of the other people the one who you falling into the abyss to.

“turn right?”

you only nodded, his palm barely touched your lower back and your breath was already prepared to leave your body only for it to come back the second gojo pulled his hand away. the two of you sat on the concrete bench, nailed in the middle of the maze. under the moonlight, the soft glow casting a magical aura around you. the silvery light made gojo’s eyes come alive, no longer hidden behind the black glasses he once wore so often.

his striking blue eyes shone with an ethereal brilliance, reflecting the moon’s gentle radiance. his white locks shimmered like strands of stardust, adding to his otherworldly beauty. in that moment, with the moonlight dancing on his features, he looked more breathtaking than ever, a living embodiment of celestial grace and charm. the night seemed to hold its breath, as if time itself paused to admire the sheer beauty of the scene, leaving you both enveloped in a cocoon of serene enchantment.

he is as beautiful as ever, as breathtaking as you can remember— that’s how you always saw him.

oh, but how gojo wishes you could see the way he sees you. sitting before him, his oh-so-called-bestfriend, his unwavering rock, his compass, and how sometimes— no, every time, it’s just ‘his’.

under the moonlight, with its silvery beams casting a soft glow around you, in the heart of the maze where the world feels like a distant dream, it’s just the two of you. the stillness of the night amplifies the beauty of the moment, every shadow and glint of light painting a picture of serene intimacy. here, in this secluded sanctuary, surrounded by the whispering leaves and the cool night air, the universe narrows to the space between you.

gojo looks at you, his eyes filled with a tender intensity, wishing you could see yourself as he does—captivating, radiant, and indispensable. in this moment, under the tranquil moonlit sky, you are his everything, the silent heartbeat of his existence, the unspoken song of his soul.

“you know,” you say, breaking the silence, “i never thought we’d end up here again. thought you’d be too busy saving the world or something,” you throwing the man side glance, a little smirk playing on your lips.

gojo chuckles, the sound light and familiar. he brings the glass of almost-finished wine to his lips, takes a sip before answering, “and i thought you’d be too busy being mad at me forever,” he jokingly smiled at you.

you roll your eyes, the smirk turns into a smile, tugging at your lips. “well, you did deserve it. you were being insufferable,” you laugh a little. and without you notice, it caught gojo by surprise, a little. two years long he survived with hearing your little giggle— giggle for me, again’ he thought. eyes fixed to you as he takes another sip, smiling.

he smirks, leaning back on his hands. “insufferable? that’s a bit harsh, don’t you think?” your head slightly shook, “nope, just accurate,” you retort, popping the ‘p’ as you nudging his shoulder playfully. “you have a way of getting under people’s skin, you know.”

“oh, come on,” he protests, a teasing glint in his eyes. “you know you missed me. admit it.”

“missed you?” you asked, giving the man a glimpse of ‘knowing look’ before smiling, “more like missed having someone to argue with,” you reply, though there’s a softness to your words. you glance at him again, the moonlight making his blue eyes shimmer like twin stars. “it’s been quiet without you around.”

he laughs, the sound echoing in the quiet night. “same old you. always ready with a comeback.”

“and same old you, always thinking you’re the center of the universe,” you quip, though your tone is softer now, the old familiarity seeping back. “well, i am pretty important,” he says with a wink, but then his expression turns more serious. “i’m sorry, you know,” his eyes moving slowly, looking for your expression, “for what happened. i never wanted to hurt you.”

for the second time, you nodded your head, eyes focusing on your laps. you finish the rest of the wine on your glass before putting the glass down on the bench and look at him, seeing the sincerity in his eyes. “i know, satoru. i’m sorry too. i shouldn’t have walked away like that.”

he reaches out, taking your hand in his. the hands he always wants to hold, straving even. the hands that always perfectly fits with his like a puzzle, the warm, your pulse hitting your soft skin a little harder every time he holds it— oh, how he loves the feeling. “we both made mistakes. but we’re here now. can we start over?” you squeeze his hand, feeling the warmth of his touch. “yeah, i’d like that.”

he grins, the mischievous spark back in his eyes. “good. because i’ve got two years of teasing to make up for.” you laugh, shaking your head as your brain begging you to let go of his hands, so you did.

shaking your head slightly, you scoff, “bring it on, gojo. i’m ready.”

he shifts closer, his shoulder brushing against yours. “you know, i really did miss you. it wasn’t the same without my best friend around.”

best-friend, fucking hate that word’ you thought.

you look at him, the honesty in his words melting away the last remnants of your anger and blossoming the garden of regret and sadness you used to grow, still. “i missed you too,” you smile so little, just like how your feelings made you feel right now. “more than i wanted to admit,” you added, jokingly.

gojo chuckles softly. “well, lucky for you, i’m back now. and i’m not going anywhere.”

please don’t— you want to beg him, wishing he wouldn’t make any promises, you hope he would go anywhere. at least until these feelings start to leave your body, faded, disappearing like whispers on the wind.

but you smile because feeling a sense of peace settles over you. “good,” you lie to yourself. “because i don't think i could handle losing you again,” it was a pleasure to be burn for gojo satoru, it was always a pleasure.

he looks at you, his eyes filled with tender intensity and something unfamiliar— you think, only to not realize he looks at you just like how the way you look at him. his love for you breaking all his bones and soul, but all he can do is just laugh; you were his best friend, after all. beautiful, crushingly so even, you look like the rest of my life— no, that’s not how a best friend thinks of his best friend. gojo satoru wouldn’t dare.

“you won’t. not if i can help it.”

the two of you just look at each other after that, with soft smiles on your faces, letting the weight of the past dissolve in the quiet night. under the moonlight, in the heart of the maze, it feels as if the world has been righted, and for the first time in a long while, everything feels as it should be.

or maybe it shouldn’t.

gojo shifted slightly and reached into the inside pocket of his tuxedo jacket. “hey, i have something for you,” he said, his voice tinged with an emotion you couldn’t quite place. curious, you watched as he pulled out an envelope. the paper was thick and elegant— the kind used for important occasions, a soft lavender color that stood out against the dark fabric of his suit. he handed it to you, his fingers brushing yours, sending a familiar warmth through you.

you took the envelope, feeling a mix of anticipation and dread. opening it carefully, you find a beautifully crafted wedding invitation inside. the names on it made your breath catch in your throat: satoru gojo and his fiancée.

your heart sank, but you managed to keep your expression neutral. “satoru..” your voice came out as a whisper, blending with the soft hustle of the leaves. “this is lovely,” you said, forcing a smile as you looked up at him.

gojo’s eyes searched yours as if trying to read your thoughts. the grief— it’s all over your eyes, the grief that is more honest to him than you ever could. but gojo does not know the reason, why are you grieving? it is because of your sorrow and he can’t give you the shoulder? or is it because you, once again, are letting yourself burn for loving him? the saddest is, he doesn’t know that, not that he has to.

is it still a pleasure to burn for him now?

“i wanted you to have it first,” he said quietly. “you’ve always been important to me, more than anyone else.” the weight of his words hung in the air, making it harder to maintain your composure. “thank you,” you replied, your voice barely steady. “i wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

you smile at each other as if trying to comfort each other. “are you pleased?” he asked softly— too afraid if his voice came out louder, he would break you. please, don’t say yes’ he begged his heart. just say the word, y/n’ he continued. he begged, once, twice, three time, for the past twelve years of his life knowing you, under the moonlight, to the moon that you say the words, begging him to stop the wedding. just say the word and he’ll come running to you.

you groan a little, “pleased? oh, i’m destroyed.”

no, he was destroyed.

so he leaned closer, faster enough to fill his eyes with a mixture of affection and again, something you couldn't quite identify. “you know, you’ve always been my closest friend. my confidant. my anchor.” you nodded, feeling a lump form in your throat. “and you’ve been mine,” you said softly, the unspoken words lingering between you.

the silence between you grew heavier as you stared at the lavender envelope in your hands. with a deep breath, you carefully opened the lavender envelope, your fingers trembling. the wedding invitation was exquisitely crafted, each detail speaking of the elegance and care that had gone into its creation. the elegant script revealing the date. seven weeks from now. your heart sank further, the realization hitting you like a wave.

you looked up at gojo, the question evident in your eyes. “seven weeks?” you whispered, barely able to keep your voice steady. “that’s. . . soon.” he nodded, a hint of sadness in his eyes. “yeah, it’s a ‘shotgun’ wedding,” he admitted, his voice quiet. “things have been moving quickly when you are not around,” your heart ached at his words, the reality of his imminent marriage sinking in. “why so soon?" you asked, struggling to keep the tears at bay. “you are going to be a father? is that allowed?”

he chuckled at your attempt to joke, trying to hide the sadness that was so clearly there behind his eyes. the smile on his lips didn’t quite reach them, but he tried his best to keep up a brave face for you.

he scoffs, “apparently, they did,” he nodded.

he shrugged nonchalantly, trying to act as though it didn’t bother him in the slightest. he didn’t want you to know just how much turmoil he was facing with this entire situation. “yeah, not like we had much of a choice in the whole matter . . .” the fact that he was getting married had been eating at him for weeks. all of that time he had spent with you, all the memories. in just seven short, short weeks it would come to an end. he wanted to tell you. tell you just how much you meant to him, but . . .

but what? would it do any good?

your hand is gripping tightly around the bouquet, so tight, suffocating, until— for the second time that night the spine digs itself through your skin, straight to your heart— the pain, it’s unbearable, you feel like dying.

there was a long pause, the maze around you silent except for the faint rustling of leaves. you wanted to tell him everything, to confess how much he meant to you, but fear held you back. instead, you tried to focus on the moment, on the bittersweet reality of his impending marriage. “oh, my god—” you choke on your own. one hand covering your mouth before you face him.

gojo reached out and took your hand, his touch warm and comforting. “promise me we’ll always be friends, no matter what,” he said, his voice almost pleading. you squeezed his hand, fighting back tears. “always,” you promised, even as your heart shattered a little more. your hands, the one he wants to carry his heart by.

your eyes are shaking, matching his heart, it’s hurting. “i’m so happy for you,” your smile didn’t reach your eyes. someone once said that people’s hearts appear in their eyes, gojo can see yours now; it’s broken, shattered before him.

please don’t be happy for me, be miserable, so i don’t have the heart to leave you, so i can be with you,’ he wants to scream at you.

“oh, god, i’m so happy for you. . .”

look at you, a girl who doesn’t believe in god now crying, begging, pleading while calling his name because the pain was unbearable. how is cruel love can be?

the weight of the moment hung heavy in the air, the lavender invitation between you acting as both a bridge and a barrier. you took a deep breath, feeling the tears welling up, and without thinking, you pulled gojo into a hug. he stiffened for a moment, then relaxed, wrapping his arms around you in a familiar embrace.

your tears flowed freely, once, twice, thrice, the moonlight catching them and making your eyes sparkle like crystals. “i’m happy for you,” you whispered, your voice trembling with a mix of joy and sorrow. satoru held you tighter, his breath warm against your ear. “thank you,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “it means everything to me to have your support.”

the maze around you seemed to close in, the hedges whispering secrets and memories of times past. you clung to him, your heartbreaking and mending all at once, the scent of the night flowers mingling with the salt of your tears. “i wish you every happiness,” you continued, your words barely more than a breath. “you deserve it, ‘toru. you deserve all the happiness in the world.”

he pulled back slightly, just enough to look into your eyes. his own were glistening, the usual sparkle tempered by the weight of the moment. “and you deserve happiness too,” he said softly, his thumb gently brushing a tear from your cheek. “promise me you’ll find it.”

your foreheads met, and the gentle press of his skin against yours felt like the most natural thing in the world. your breaths mingled, soft and warm, creating a delicate rhythm that only the two of you shared, a silent conversation of souls.

his eyes, filled with a depth of emotion you had always known but never fully understood, locked with yours. the moonlight bathed you both in a soft, ethereal glow, casting a spell that held the night in a timeless embrace. every unspoken word, every hidden feeling, shimmered in the air between you, a tapestry of love and longing woven through years of friendship.

gojo’s hand gently cupped your cheek, his touch feather-light, as if he were afraid you might disappear. slowly, almost reverently, he began to close the gap between you. his movements were unhurried, each inch a testament to the gravity of the moment, the culmination of everything that had been left unsaid.

your heart pounded in your chest, a wild, erratic beat that seemed to echo through the silence. the anticipation was electric, every second stretched into an eternity. as his lips drew nearer, you felt the world around you blur into insignificance, the maze and the moonlight fading into the background. then, with a tenderness that took your breath away, his lips brushed against yours. the touch was soft, almost tentative, like the whisper of a dream.

oh, how empty he is to be full by you.

the contact sent a shiver through you, a spark that ignited every fiber of your being. you responded instinctively, your hands finding their way to his face, fingers threading through his hair as you pulled him closer, deepening the kiss.

the kiss was everything—a confession, a promise, a revelation. it spoke of years of hidden desires, of nights spent wondering, of the unbreakable bond that had always connected you. the taste of him, the feel of his lips moving against yours, was like coming home after a long, arduous journey.

when you finally pulled back, your breaths mingling in the cool night air, you opened your eyes to find him gazing at you with an expression that mirrored your own—wonder, longing, and a profound sense of rightness. ‘longing’, such a tender name for such a miserable state of being.

you nodded, the ache in your chest making it hard to speak. “i’ll try,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “but right now, i just need to be here for you.” gojo’s gaze held yours, the moonlight illuminating the silent understanding passing between you. “you’ve always been there for me,” he said, his voice a soft caress. “and i hope you always will be.”

the world around you seemed to fade, the only sounds the rustling of the leaves and the steady beating of your hearts. you felt a bittersweet calm wash over you, knowing that despite everything, your bond with satoru was unbreakable, saddest.

“i will be,” you promised, your voice firm despite the tears. “no matter what.”

he smiled then, a small, tender smile that spoke of shared sorrow, of the disaster from loving you, but oh how he promised, i will always be this tender for you. “good,” he whispered, pulling you back into his arms. “because i don’t know what i’d do without you.”

his arm tightly around you as your cheeks rest against his chest— he gathers you up, folds you to his heart, and looks at each other a little too long to be just friends.

[amiaenn]

Habits

Harumasa × reader

Note:I was so deeply imbued with this character that I was inspired to pour out my thoughts here a little bit. (+I myself have problems with my lungs and heart, so I understand this bro as much as possible).I apologize in advance for my mistakes, this is my first experience in writing (⁠•⁠ ⁠▽⁠ ⁠•⁠;⁠)

genre/warnings: nope.It's just fluff, don't worry.

wc: ~800 words

Ever since you started dating Harumasa, it has seemed to you that your apartment is slowly turning into a medical office and new habits have appeared in your life. An abundance of various pills, ointments, saline solutions and many other things, the names of which you have not even heard of until recently, filled your shelves. Any pharmacy would envy such supplies of medicines.

And of course, your everyday life has changed too. No, of course you understood that it would change with the appearance of another person in your apartment, but you could not have imagined that Harumasa would bring new activities into your routine that you could not even think about until now.

First, maintaining order in the house. It cannot be said that you were completely dirty in this regard before, but sometimes you can put off sorting out some dusty shelf for later, right? Now forget about it. Asaba is the kind of person who starts a coughing fit from a single speck of dust, and you were sincerely sorry to see and hear him cough, and knowing about his lung problems, you immediately thought that now wet cleaning will be daily, no matter what it costs you, even despite Harumasa's eternal words that he is not a weak guy who can get sick from such household trifles (although his body's reaction says otherwise).

Secondly, now you have increased knowledge about various diseases (especially those related to the heart and lungs). How and what affects this, what is a state of remission and how to maintain it. Well, of course, in connection with this, you began to go with Harumasa to pharmacies to buy the necessary medications. And going out on such shopping, you remembered more and more the names of these pills. You can even confidently say that you remembered this entire list as long as the Great Wall of China.

Third, this is cooking. Yeah, for people who get sick easily, a special diet is needed. A balance of proteins, fats and carbohydrates. It is unlikely that a weak body will tolerate an abundance of chemicals in food, so you need to be more careful with this issue of cooking and selecting ingredients, so you will have to exclude all this harmful food, or at least limit its consumption to a minimum. To support Harumasa in this difficult matter, you decided to give up all the harmful food that you had previously consumed and switch to a healthy diet. One day, you impulsively got rid of all the snacks and bought vegetables and fruits, creating real chaos in the kitchen. Soup is boiling in one corner, vegetables are baking in another, while fruits are being cut on the table and, seeing this picture, Asaba only chuckled and said "Need help?" To which you nodded aggressively, and the guy already went to put on his apron.

Well, and the most interesting thing. A bitter taste began to be felt on your lips more often. You couldn't say that you were a doomed lover of bitter, on the contrary, you tried to avoid bitterness. Once you tried espresso and the fact that it was not a very pleasant experience is to say nothing. But with the appearance of Harumasa, you began to feel the taste of bitterness on your lips. And, you guessed it, all because of his kisses. It's no secret that Harumasa takes pills more often than food and this leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. But he stopped noticing it a long time ago, because years of taking medications give an addiction to this taste and it becomes unnoticeable. But you feel it fully, but to your surprise it felt.. nice? Yes, that's right. Strangely nice, for a lover of sweets like you. When you felt this taste for the first time, your eyes widened and the question "How can he calmly consume such bitter medications?" was spinning in your head. He noticed your surprise and involuntarily wondered what he did that caused such a reaction. Harumasa decided not to hesitate with the question and casually asked, "Something wrong, baby?"

You just awkwardly shrug your shoulders at this question, as if you don't understand what he's talking about, "No...no, everything's fine, don't get hung up on it."

After this incident, you began to get used to it, and after some time, the taste of bitterness began to be associated with something good and familiar. Something that brings a smile. Even more, now you wanted to feel it more often and you began to kiss Asaba at every opportunity that was given to you. He came from a successfully completed mission? What a good boy, he deserved a kiss. Are you making breakfast together? How cute, you can kiss him. Is he just relaxing? A great reason for a kiss! To be honest, it bordered on addiction, but for now it was on a fine line, because you skillfully control yourself and if you are told to tone down your ardor, you will do it without question.

And yes, why did you start liking espresso? It's strange...

[anamina0]

Echoes

Part I , Part II , Part III , Part IV , Part V , Part VI, Part VII

Summary : Your mind is a battlefield, a constant war between thoughts of Vi and the haunting memories of Ellie. Just when you think you’ve shaken one, the other slips in to take its place. And yet, no matter how desperately you try to keep Vi at a distance, she’s always there—like some kind of force refuses to let you walk away.

Warnings/themes : angst, trauma, heartbreak, meantions of death, fluff, kissing , yearning, both Vi and you being assholes to each other

Word count: 5.3k

“Is that really necessary?” you frowned, closing the creaky door behind you. The muffled noise of the bustling bar below faded as you stepped into the cramped room. “We’ve got plenty of customers already. Throwing a whole celebration party seems like a bit much for a shithole like this.” You shot a glance at Revek, catching the faint twitch of his expression. “No offense,” you chuckled, nudging his shoulder playfully.

Revek arched a brow, pulling a cigarette box from his pocket. “God, sometimes it’s painfully obvious you didn’t grow up around here.” He spoke through a low mutter, tapping a cigarette free. “One holiday. Just one. These people—” He lit the cigarette, the flare of the lighter briefly illuminating his rough features. “They’ve been through hell. They deserve a night to forget about it. We all do.”

You rolled your eyes, holding your hand out for the cigarette. “I’m not saying people don’t deserve to celebrate,” you said, taking a deep breath . The cigarette smoke burned your lungs for a moment before you exhaled. “It’s just…” You trailed off, your words evaporating like the smoke in the air. Shaking your head, you handed the cigarette back. “You know what? Nevermind.”

You knew what the problem really was—you didn’t want to dress up, plaster on a fake smile, and toast to something you didn’t feel connected to. But deep down, you also knew why you were here, sticking around Revek. He was there for you when no one else was. The least you could do was return the favor.

“So,” you said after a moment, forcing a smile. “What do we need? Food? Drinks? Decorations?”

Revek’s lips curled into an easy grin as he exhaled another puff of smoke. “Just get a good night’s sleep, wear something that’ll turn a few heads, and get ready to have fun.”

“Whatever you say, big guy,” you smirked, passing the cigarette back. One last exhale, one last cloud of hazy smoke, and you pulled your jacket tighter around you. As you headed for the stairs, you glanced over your shoulder. “Don’t stay up all night, yeah? Try to save some of that cheer for the party.”

His laugh followed you down the creaking stairwell, echoing faintly against the worn walls.

The walk home was short, five minutes through the narrow streets of Zaun, weaving between patches of grime and bursts of chaotic energy. Your apartment wasn’t much—a sagging roof, flaking walls, and windows that hardly held back the bitter winds—but it was cheap. The streets hummed with life, as always. Shouts, laughter, the distant clatter of machinery—it surrounded you, chaos - that somehow soothed. Quiet terrified you. Silence was where thoughts crept in—unbidden and unwelcome. And you’d learned long ago that your thoughts were anything but gentle.

Pausing at your building’s stoop, you glanced back. The bar’s neon sign blinked faintly in the distance, its light spilling into the crowded alleys. Zaun wasn’t kind, but neither were you, and in its rough-edged way, it felt like home. The metal stairs groaned softly under your weight as you climbed toward your apartment. The wind whistled through the gaps in the railing, carrying the smell of oil and smoke from Zaun’s chaotic streets. From this angle, you could see the city glimpse of the city —grimy, alive, a restless pulse of neon lights and shouts echoing into the night. For a brief moment, you paused, gripping the cool rail. Looking down at the messy, relentless energy below, a strange sense of belonging settled over you. Zaun wasn’t for everyone, but for some strange reason, it was for you.

Your apartment greeted you with silence and shadow. The jacket slipped from your fingers, landing carelessly on the floor as your eyes scanned the small room. It wasn’t much—barely enough space to breathe—but it was yours. Your gaze drifted to the fridge. The grumble in your stomach reminded you how little you’d eaten today, though you hadn’t realized it until now.

Crossing to the kitchen area, you pulled open the fridge door. Grabbing some leftovers, you made your way to the couch, balancing the plate on the floor as you shuffled through your small collection of records. Fingers brushed over familiar album covers before settling on one. Placing it on the player, the first crackling notes filled the room, warm and comforting. You sank back onto the couch, letting the music wrap around you. But it wasn’t enough to drown out the thoughts clawing at the edge of your mind. No sooner had you closed your eyes than Vi’s face surfaced, unbidden. Her sharp, determined expression. The hard edge of her voice, the way she filled a room with a rough, commanding presence .

You shook your head, frowning. Why couldn’t you get her out of your head? You barely knew her, and what little interaction you’d had wasn’t exactly pleasant. She was cocky, rude, and dismissive, sparing you little more than a glance whenever she bothered to show up at the bar. Then there were the girls—always someone new, someone eager. Yet Vi never lingered, always on to the next, like nothing and no one mattered to her. She lived with violence and anger simmering under her skin, ready to erupt at a moment’s notice. You’d seen it firsthand. Your fingers traced lightly over your right cheek, where she hit you. It hurt. It was an accident , but still hurt.

And yet, here you were. Thinking about her. Letting her stormy eyes and crooked smirk linger in your mind longer than you wanted them to. It made you angry—angry at her, but mostly at yourself, at how effortlessly she occupied a space in your head when you knew she shouldn’t. Rave of unsettling emotions started swirling around , you were desperate to find answer to one question. Why was your mind still lingering towards her?

You tried to brush her off from your head, concentrate on something else as familiar melody swirled in your ears. And before you realized, it was already too late.

𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒

“Hey, hey, hey,” her raspy voice whispered, warm and familiar, as arms wrapped tightly around you. Her touch melted into you, grounding you when everything inside felt like it was spinning out of control. “Bad dream?” she added, her lips brushing your cheek with a soft kiss.

Your breath came in shallow gasps as you tried to calm yourself “It was mom and Hannah,” you admitted, voice cracking. You glanced up at her, the closeness of her body almost overwhelming in its warmth.

Her expression softened instantly, her green eyes reflecting the dim light of the room. “I’m here,” she murmured, pressing another kiss to your temple. “Wanna talk about it?”

You swallowed hard, throat tightening against the weight of the memory. “My mind…” You paused, gripping her tighter. “It took me back. To the day they died. It was so calm that day. So damn calm, like the world was just waiting to pull the rug out from under me.”

Her fingers moved in soft circles on your shoulder, her exhale measured and comforting. “You have to let it go,” she said quietly. “The guilt…”

A hollow laugh escaped your lips as you looked down. “Easier said than done.” But you smiled faintly, even through the ache.

She shifted slightly, her hand tilting your chin so you’d meet her gaze. Her presence-was like standing in sunlight after a storm. There wasn’t a hint of judgment in her eyes, only care. Only her.

Here she was. The only person who could calm your storms. After meeting her, you’d finally begun to understand what people meant when they talked about moving on—not to forget, but to reach for something better. Someone better. She wasn’t just a person; she was your armor, light in the darkness.

“I love you, Ellie,” you whispered, the words spilling from your lips before you could stop them. You couldn’t look away, and you didn’t want to.A grin spread across her face, her freckles shifting as she laughed softly. She leaned forward, her lips brushing against yours in a kiss so tender it unraveled something inside you. She pulled back just far enough to whisper, “I love you too,” before claiming your lips again. Her kiss was slow, deliberate, pulling you into her, stealing your pain away piece by piece. You could still feel it—the way her lips felt against yours, the warmth of her body pressing close. No matter how tough she was, when it was just the two of you, she unraveled, revealing a side of herself no one else ever saw.

And it was impossible not to love her for it.

𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒

Not again.

The memories came flooding back, wrapping around you like suffocating chains. You clenched your fists, trying to push them down, to silence the familiar ache, but it was no use. Your gaze darted around the room, landing on the record player. That damned melody still played, winding its way through your ears and dragging the past along with it. Ellie crept into your thoughts once again, as she always did when you least wanted her there.

It wasn’t fair. Not to you, not to the person you were trying to become. But the song stirred something deep within you—an echo of what used to be. Before you realized what you were doing, you’d slammed your plate down on the floor and rushed toward the record player. Your hands shook as you stopped the music with a force that left the silence ringing in your ears. But even that wasn’t enough. The panic had already rooted itself deep inside, clawing at your chest, making it harder and harder to breathe.

You couldn’t sit still. Not now. Not alone.

Grabbing your jacket from where it had fallen on the floor, you stormed out of the apartment, letting the door slam shut behind you. You didn’t know where you were going, only that you needed to go somewhere. The stairwell loomed ahead, but your steps were clumsy, your mind far away. The tension in your body made every movement feel strained, disconnected. That was probably why you didn’t see it coming.

Your foot hit something, or someone, and before you knew it, you were tumbling forward, catching yourself just in time with your hands against the concrete floor. The sting of the landing shot through you, but before the annoyance could fully set in, a low groan made you freeze.

You turned quickly, brushing the dirt from your hands. “Seriously?” you snapped, frustration spilling out. “Can’t you fucking pick a better place to pass out, you—” The words stuck in your throat as you finally registered the person sprawled behind you.

Her.

“Vi?”

She looked up at you, her expression a mix of exhaustion and drunken carelessness. Even in this state, she managed to smirk, as if she wasn’t sitting half-conscious on your staircase in the middle of the night.

“Hey there, Y/N,” she drawled, her voice raspy and uneven, her speech slurred.

Shock left you dumbfounded for a moment. Then came the anger. “What the hell are you doing here?” you demanded, stepping closer. “Are you following me?”

Vi let out a lazy, half-hearted laugh. “Follow you?” She paused to steady herself before smirking again. “Why would I ever follow you?” Her words hit like a slap, but it wasn’t just the insult that got to you. It was the way she said it so casually, dismissively, like you didn’t matter at all.

Your jaw tightened as you glared down at her. “Then what are you doing passed out outside my apartment?”

Vi blinked up at you, the haze in her eyes softening as she finally focused on your face. For a brief second, something warm flickered there, like she was actually glad to see you. “Because I live here,” she mumbled, tilting her head toward the door beneath your flat. Of course. The universe really had it out for you. Of course Vi lived here, right below you, as if some cosmic joke was at play. You cursed inwardly at the revelation. Why would she ever follow you? She didn’t care about you, and deep down, you already knew that.

“Oh,” you muttered, trying to mask the embarrassment seeping into your voice. “I’ve never seen you around.”

Vi gave you a half-shrug, her coordination barely holding together. You squinted at her, taking in the sorry state she was in—the alcohol practically radiated off her. “You look like you need some help,” you said, forcing a smug grin. “You reek, by the way.”

“I could use some help,” she admitted with a groan, extending a hand toward you.

You hesitated before squatting down to grab her hand. As you tried to pull her up, it became apparent just how drunk she really was. She stumbled forward, her weight pressing into yours, so close that your noses almost touched. The proximity made your stomach flip—a mixture of irritation, panic, and something you didn’t want to name.

“You’ve got to help me out here,” you said quickly, your voice sharp to mask the awkward tension.

Vi let out a small chuckle, her trademark smirk appearing as if on instinct. “Sure thing, pretty girl,” she quipped, her words making your face burn even as you rolled your eyes. Steeling yourself, you guided her toward her apartment door, her steps shaky and slow. The entire way, you told yourself you were only helping her because no one else would. Because someone had to. Definitely not because she still managed to pull you into her orbit, whether she deserved to or not.

As you stepped into her apartment, the air shifted. It was exactly how you imagined—dim, cluttered, and steeped in melancholy, bottles scattered like forgotten relics of whatever storm had swept through here. You shut the door behind you.

“Can you walk on your own?” you asked, a bite of judgment in your voice as you glanced at her.

Vi swayed where she stood, attempting a smile but only managing a lopsided smirk. “I can try,” she mumbled, her steps as unsteady as her voice.

“You need to splash some cold water on your face,” you instructed, your tone sharp. “It’ll help.”

She let out a slow exhale, the kind that spoke of exhaustion and annoyance, but she didn’t argue. She dragged herself to the sink in the kitchen. The water hissed as she turned it on, splashing it onto her face, washing away the traces of her drunken haze—or at least trying to. You stood there, watching her, your thoughts spinning like the needle on a broken record. Just minutes ago, you’d been fleeing your own storm, running blindly from the chaos of your thoughts and memories of Ellie that refused to leave you in peace. Then, as if the universe were playing some twisted game with you, you tripped over Vi of all people. The strange coincidence of her living right below you only fueled your frustration.

You told yourself you hated her for it—for the way she managed to replace one chaos in your life with another. But deep down, some part of you was almost grateful. That small, shameful part wanted her here, even like this. Even when she was impossible.

“Pretty girl.” Her drunken words floated back to you, uninvited, pulling at something inside your chest as your eyes darted to her again. You swallowed hard, trying to shake the moment from your mind. Vi finally turned the water off, not bothering to look at you as she walked unsteadily to the sofa and let herself fall onto it. You lingered near the door, torn between leaving her there and doing something—anything—to stop whatever spiral she was in. But walking out now wasn’t an option. It never was, not when someone was unraveling right in front of you. So you took a step closer, and then another. Her silhouette against the dim light felt heavier than it should have, her sorrow filling the room like a storm cloud. You hated how familiar it all felt.

“Feeling any better?” you asked softly, testing the waters.

Vi leaned back against the sofa, her head tilted to the ceiling, eyes barely meeting yours. “Depends on what you’re asking about,” she mumbled, her voice coarse and tired.

“The alcohol,” you said, forcing a weak smile, hoping to crack through the wall she always seemed to throw up. “Though I don’t think splashing water on your face is going to fix…whatever this is.”

It was a small attempt to lighten the mood, but it hit like a brick wall. Vi’s gaze finally locked onto yours. Her makeup was smeared, her usually sharp features softened by exhaustion, but those piercing blue eyes still cut straight through you. For a second, she looked like she might let you in, might say something real. Then, her lips curled, and her voice came out sharp.

“Save all that bullshit for someone else,” she spat. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

And there it was again. The walls, she didn’t just throw up defenses, she lobbed them like knives. You stared at her, your temper flaring as her words settled into your chest .“You’re such an asshole,” you snapped, stepping closer.

“You’re seriously going to treat me like this after I just dragged your sorry ass off the street?” Your voice rose, laced with frustration you couldn’t hold back anymore. “You were so drunk you couldn’t even stand. I could’ve just left you there, but no—I dragged you inside, and instead of a simple thank you, I get this? God, you’re pathetic, Vi.”

Her expression darkened, her jaw tightening as the words hit their mark. For a moment, she looked like she might fire back, but instead, she leaned forward, her forearms resting on her knees, her hands clasped together. She didn’t speak, but the weight in her gaze was enough to make your chest tighten. The silence stretched on, thick with tension. You were standing so close now, the space between you feeling smaller and smaller with every passing second. Intimidation radiated off her, even slouched and broken like this. Yet, beneath it, there was something else. Something fragile she didn’t want you to see but couldn’t entirely hide. And that infuriated you even more. Because no matter how much she pushed you away, no matter how much she twisted your emotions, part of you couldn’t look away.

Then something shifted in her, as it always seemed to when the silence between you dragged on too long.

“Where were you running off to, anyway?” she asked, her voice softer now, though still carrying that faint edge of amusement. “You looked like a psychopath, sprinting out there like that.” A chuckle slipped past her lips, light but dry, like she was trying to mock you and not quite succeeding. You glanced at her, unable to fully brush off her words. Her tone—teasing as it was—held something else beneath it, something you weren’t ready to face.

“That’s… a long story,” you replied, your voice quiet, the weight of the moment anchoring you. You didn’t even realize you were sitting beside her now, close enough to see the way her messy bangs fell into her face. You sighed, chuckling weakly, “Let’s just say I was running away from my own mind.”

At that, her teasing demeanor softened further. Her gaze lingered on you, the faintest flicker of understanding crossing her face. For a moment, it was like she knew exactly what you meant, even though you hadn’t said a word about the storm of emotions inside you.

“Sounds familiar,” she murmured, her voice dropping lower. She paused, her tongue grazing the corner of her lips before she added, “Did you?”

The abruptness of the question caught you off guard. “Did I what?”

“Get away,” she clarified, tilting her head slightly.

“Well,” you exhaled sharply, aiming for humor to deflect the weight of her question, “it’s hard to run away from anything when your drunk neighbor almost sends you flying down the stairs.”

Her lips twitched into the smallest of smiles. “You’re welcome.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you shot back, rolling your eyes. “You’re the reason the panic attack snapped out of me, you asshole.”

“And I don’t even get a ‘thank you’ for that?” she replied, her voice laced with mock indignation.

“Uh, no. Considering I didn’t get one for dragging you off the sidewalk, I think we’re even,” you said, smirking slightly.

Her laughter was faint but real, and something about the sound eased the tightness in your chest. Yet, as the silence crept back in, the air between you shifted again. It felt raw, vulnerable. Like neither of you could ignore the unspoken weight pressing down on both of you.

“I hate the taste of alcohol,” she said suddenly, her voice quieter now, almost hesitant. “I despise it.”

You turned to her, surprised at the admission. She wasn’t looking at you but staring off at some undefined spot in the room, her hands fidgeting with the edge of her pants.

“Every sip reminds me that I shouldn’t be doing it,” she continued, her words slower now. “I know it’s not the way to deal with anything, but…” She trailed off, taking a deep breath before letting it out slowly. “But I can’t stop. I have to blur everything, make my head so cloudy that I can’t hear my own thoughts. Because if I don’t…”

You didn’t dare move, afraid of breaking whatever fragile moment had settled around the two of you. Her voice cracked just slightly as she finished, “If I don’t, I’ll go crazy.”

The room was still, but her words hung heavy in the air. You looked at her—really looked at her—and for the first time, you saw past the wall she kept building. Beneath the tough exterior and sharp words was a person held together by scraps and desperation, just like you.

“I get that,” you finally said, your own voice almost a whisper. “That’s why I moved here. That’s why I bury myself in the bar, pulling shifts until my body gives out. Because if I don’t…” You hesitated, your chest tightening at the memories clawing at you. “If I’m left alone with myself for too long, everything just… comes back. All the memories. All the sadness. The guilt, the anger. It all comes at once, and I can’t—”

Your words faltered, the weight of them dragging you down. You let out a shaky breath, suddenly aware of how close the two of you were. She was looking at you now, her blue eyes softer, her expression tinged with something close to understanding.

“Yeah,” she muttered, nodding slightly. “I know what you mean.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable; it was heavy but shared. Her proximity was grounding, yet it also stirred something in you, something you didn’t want to name.

Her hand lifted slightly, almost as if she was going to reach out, but then she hesitated, letting it fall back into her lap. Whatever walls had crumbled between you, there was still a gap, one neither of you seemed ready to close. One thing remained the same—she was still a mystery. Even though you felt like you’d peeled back one of her layers tonight, so many others were still hidden beneath the surface. You wanted to change that. Desperation simmered beneath your skin to know more of her, to unravel whatever story made her the way she was. But fear held you back.Opening up to someone else? Letting them see the real you? You weren’t ready. You feared it, even hated the part of yourself that was willing to risk it again. The last time you let someone in, it hadn’t ended well—your mother and sister’s deaths, your brother abandoning you, Ellie disappearing like smoke and taking a piece of your soul with her. Every time, you ended up alone, and the thought of repeating that cycle should have stopped you.

But it didn’t.

“Can I ask you something, Vi?” you said quietly, turning toward her. You hadn’t realized just how close you’d shifted until now, the space between you narrowing to an almost unbearable degree. Her warmth radiated toward you, faint but undeniable.

“Of course,” she replied, her voice surprisingly soft. The sound of it lingered, brushing against your thoughts like a feather.

You hesitated, unsure if you should ask what was on your mind, but the curiosity, the pull, was too strong. “How did you end up… alone?”

She exhaled, the question hitting her harder than you’d anticipated. Her gaze dropped to her hands, fingers twitching slightly as if she didn’t know what to do with them.

“It’s a long story,” she murmured, looking up briefly before glancing away again. “I wasn’t always like this,” she continued, her words measured as if each carried a weight she wasn’t sure she could handle. “I had… family. A sister.”

She paused, and you could see her battling with herself, unsure if she wanted to continue. Then she whispered a name: Cait.

The way she said it sent a shiver down your spine. It wasn’t just a name. It was a memory, a ghost that haunted her, and for a moment, you thought she might choke on the word.

“Cait,” you repeated softly, testing the waters. The name felt heavy on your tongue, and you searched her face for a reaction. “She seems like… a heartbreak,” you ventured cautiously, your voice gentle as you tried to meet her where she was.

Her jaw tightened, and all she did was nod, as if even acknowledging it aloud was too much.

"Well,” you began, your voice barely above a whisper, “if it makes you feel any better, I’ve been there too.” Your lips trembled slightly as you pushed out a name you hadn’t spoken in years. “Her name was Ellie.”

Saying it felt surreal, like you were resurrecting a ghost you weren’t ready to confront. For so long, you had buried her name deep, locked behind walls you thought would keep you safe. But tonight, those walls seemed to crumble.Vi’s hand brushed against yours. The touch was light, almost hesitant, and it caught you off guard. You glanced down, surprised at how soft her fingers were despite everything about her seeming rough. Her fingertips traced yours, and then she intertwined her fingers with yours, so slow and deliberate that it sent chills rushing through your entire body.A simple touch, and yet it felt so different—so good. It had been too long since you’d felt this, a connection that felt both grounding and electrifying all at once. You looked at her, your gaze locking onto hers as she didn’t move, just let her fingers remain tangled with yours. Her eyes softened in a way you hadn’t seen before, and your heart stuttered in your chest.

Without a word, she leaned forward slightly, the space between you closing even more. It felt inevitable, like gravity was pulling you together. You mirrored her movement, hardly breathing as your faces came closer, closer still. Your noses nearly brushed, and her breath warmed your lips as your eyes fluttered shut.

Then panic hit, sharp and overwhelming.

You shouldn’t be doing this. Not again. It was too dangerous. Too much. The fear that consumed you earlier—the fear of opening yourself up, of being broken again—came roaring back to life, pulling you away violently. You jerked back, breaking the moment and standing so quickly you nearly lost your balance. Your hands trembled as you looked around the room, anywhere but at her.

“I… I should go,” you said, the words barely audible as tears burned in your eyes. Your voice cracked, and you cursed yourself for not being stronger. Vi didn’t move. She sat there, her expression unreadable but undeniably laced with sadness. She didn’t try to stop you. She didn’t say a word, and somehow, that made it hurt even more.

You opened the door, every part of you screaming to leave, but something—some force you couldn’t explain—held you there for one last moment.

“Um,” you whispered, not even sure why you were saying it, “Revek’s having a celebration party tomorrow. You should… you should stop by. If you want to.”

It was awkward, ridiculous even, and you hated yourself for offering something so trivial after what had just happened. But the words hung in the air as you finally stepped out, closing the door behind you. By the time you reached your apartment, the tears had already spilled over, cascading down your cheeks as you tried to keep your breathing steady. Whatever had just happened between you and Vi, whatever shift had taken place, it scared you in a way nothing else had in for a long time.

𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒

Author note: Chapter II is out!!! I really hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Please let me know what you think, it means world to me when you guys give me feedback and motivates me to do more .

[sugurugetofavoritemonkey]

request for ethan 🤭

reader drunkenly confesses her feelings about ethan to tara or chad or something and then she avoids him the following day bc shes shy or embarrassed, but he totally likes her back (everyone knowsssss)

and it ends in smut or fluff? 😛

ps i adore ur writing! <3

A/N : Hii ! 🖤 Thank so much for your request that I loved doing, this type of idea works so well with Ethan and is so cute 🥰 Also thank you for liking my writing and sending me Ethan’s ideas, it always makes me so happy 💖 Please tell me if I did justice to your request, and you can still send more for Ethan ! ✨

Reader drunkenly confesses her feelings for Ethan to Tara and gets shy about it when in reality, everyone already knows that Ethan feels the exact same way for you.

You were at a party with all your friends, including your dearest one Ethan Landry. You even enjoyed most of this night alongside him and almost only with him as the both of you giggled, talked about anything and everything and held hands to walk through that pool of people to fill your cups. Maybe a bit too many drinks for you it seems as you were now talking with Tara, sitting on the couch in the corner, while Ethan was busy talking with Chad at the other end of the room. You started talking with her about trivial things at first but as your hazy gaze found Ethan, your drunken mind started to change the subject on its own. It has been minutes since you started talking about Ethan to Tara who listened to you with a little smile, your drunken words slowly switched from random thoughts to more precise ones that could easily be directly linked to your feelings for Ethan as you ramble about him with a slurred voice.

« …and you know, Ethan’s always kind to me. The other day, he made sure that my necklace was placed right and tucked a stray lock of hair behind my ear. He also always holds my hand when there’s a lot of people at the cafeteria, a-and he helps me with the homework that I struggle with…and I think he compliments me every morning about some nice details he noticed on me. I t-think I like being with him…maybe…I don’t know. », you stop your rambling for a few seconds in a pout as you think about Ethan with a smile on your face.

Tara looks at you with a knowing smirk. Everybody perfectly knew that you and Ethan were meant for each other…the problem was simple : you were both incredibly blind in this situation. Tara took this situation as an opportunity to move things forward for you both as she asks you, « Do you like him ? Like…do you have feelings for Ethan ? »

Without even looking back at Tara, you swiftly nodded your head at her in a natural admission, your drunken state blurring your mind as your reactions become too instinctive and honest for a moment, « Of course I do…he’s the most perfect guy I’ve ever encountered in my life. »

Tara doesn’t have time to react when your eyes go wide as you realize what you just admitted out loud in front of your friend. Your eyes scan the room in panic in a way to make sure that Ethan wasn’t anywhere close enough to hear that.

You laugh it off and try to make her forget what you just said, « Forget about it, I d-don’t even know what I’m saying. Ethan’s just a friend, a very good friend… right ? »

Tara gently laugh at you as she rubs your hand in a reassuring way, « You don’t sound so sure of that statement, am I right ? »

The next day, you made your best to avoid Ethan at all costs seeing how embarrassed and shy you got when you admitted out loud your feelings for him, even though he wasn’t there to hear. What you didn’t take into consideration was the fact that it was almost impossible to avoid Ethan without acting strange. You both practically spend your entire days glued to each… and now what ? Ethan would have to live without knowing what he did wrong ? The poor boy took the entire morning searching in his mind what he possibly could have done wrong, his puppy eyes looking at you from afar as he seemed completely lost while talking about it with Chad.

« Do you think that I’ve made her mad or sad ? It wasn’t my attention…maybe she didn’t get a good grade with my advice for the math exercises. And it’s true that I was a bit late to pick her up this morning to accompany her to school but still… », Ethan pouts a bit while his legs don't stop moving and his right foot taps on the ground due to the anxiety of not finding his fault in all of this.

Chad just can’t hold his laugh any longer at the sight of his poor friend breaking his mind over you.

« Man, you do realize that you’re better to her than any guy she knew in her entire life, right ? »

Ethan is dumbfounded as he looks at his friend like he hasn’t done anything particular, « I mean, I just want her to be happy and to protect her, that’s all. »

Chad smiles at the pure innocence of Ethan, « Well, I think that’s enough for her to fall in love with a cute guy like you. »

Ethan’s eyes grow even wider at the realization of what Chad just said. Ethan’s voice grows pitched as he talks faster in excitement.

« What ?? She likes me ?? Since when did you know that ?? Did she tell you ?? And are you sure about that ?? Becau— », Chad cuts Ethan’s rambling before he wouldn’t be able to calm him down.

« Hey hey hey, relax, everybody knows that since months ago, AT LEAST. »

Ethan looks at his feet in silence to register how blind he was to your signals, even though he doesn’t know you weren’t better than him on that matter, « Oh… »

Chad tries to cheer him up by poking his side lightly, « Tara told me that your girl was just as dense as you about your relationship, even though it’s clear as day that you both love each other. Come on…do you realize that you don’t go a day without seeing her at least every 2 hours ?? Talk to her about it, I’m sure it will be better for her and you. I don’t even know how you both are able to not jump on each other with how close you guys are. », Chad finishes with a chuckle and a sigh.

After talking with Chad, Ethan is now pretty motivated to find you and finally confess his feelings for you, and it doesn’t take long for him to spot you in the corridor as he successfully corners you against a wall.

You avoid his gaze with a blush as Ethan surprises you with a confidence that he rarely shows, as he firmly yet gently takes your wrist in his large hand to lead you in an empty classroom.

« We have to talk. »

Once inside, Ethan lets go of your wrist and you both stand in front of each other close enough that his fingers still brush against yours.

There’s a moment of silence before Ethan speaks first, his early confidence now starts to fade just a little when his eyes find yours and he starts fidgeting with his fingers to choose his words carefully.

« I-I know why you avoid me so much today and I wanted to tell you something. We’ve been friends for so long and I developed f-feelings that exceed this type of relation, that you perhaps, and I hope so, share as well… I don’t like it when we don’t talk or don’t see each other b-because… I really like you… I-I love you. », Ethan declares to you in such a soft and gentle voice as he opens up and declares his feelings for you.

You look at him with big soft eyes as you chew on your lips when your heart stomps against your chest so loudly that you fear that Ethan can hear it as well. With all the courage you can gather, your trembling hand searches for his to hold two of his fingers. Your voice is shaking but Ethan finds the honesty in it touching as he brightly smiles at you the way you adore.

« I love you as w-well Ethan, far more than you can imagine. »

Ethan’s free hand cups your cheek tenderly as if you could break as he asks you in a silent voice, with his eyes focused on your lips.

« Can I kiss you, please ? »

You nod at him instinctively as Ethan’s mouth presses against yours in a kiss that you desperately craved for god knows how long. The kiss is gentle at first, soft and experimental. Ethan caresses your cheekbones with a featherlight touch as you stand on your tiptoes to deepen the kiss that quickly turns eager with all the excitement and emotions shared between him and you. Ethan’s tongue licks at your lips to ask for entrance as you willingly give it to him without hesitation. Heavy kissing becomes making out when the sound of heavy breathing is shared between your lips that glisten with wet saliva, seeing how messy you’re passionately kissing each other, like you both desired it for too long. Ethan’s hand comes to softly caress your nipples, his touch warm as you moan against his mouth and pull slightly on his curly hair.

Out of breath, you both break the kiss as you look at each other with half-lidded eyes, your lips and his still connected with a thin string of saliva.

Ethan is the first to murmur against your swollen lips, « You have no idea how much I’ve wanted to do this for a long time. »

You giggle against his lips out of happiness of hearing something you absolutely agree with, before being slightly startled by knocks on the door.

You look at each other dumbfounded before Ethan reassuringly intertwines his fingers with yours as you leave the classroom still a bit out of breath and with disheveled hair just from making out. Ethan and you awkwardly smile at Chad and Tara who are standing outside the door with knowing smiles at your looks and the way your free hand holds onto Ethan’s arm with a blush. Tara and Chad look at each other with a sigh, « What have we done ? »

Their eyes are back on you both now, teasing you sarcastically, « We don’t want to see you both sharing saliva every 5 minutes, got it ? »

💗 Ethan Landry Masterlist 💗

[yandere-3-sagau]

Hello! New anon here, idk if you do anything like this but i had an interesting thought the other day!

So yknow how you can name scaramouche right of course

So i named mine,,,,genuinely? Like i went out and looked up names (what can i say im down bad okay) and I found the name ‘Ena’ which means ‘gift from god’ (according to what i found-) or something like ‘blessed life’

So what if in a secret creator!sagau, the reader names him that and he dismisses it at first but then catches the reader having a look (sort of like a sad smile) every time they refer to him as that, so he finally asks what it means and they say its because they see him as being worthy of living. That they see him as a blessing from ‘the creator’ and they want him to see himself that way- (like not in a ‘more important than anyone else’ way, just in a ‘you exist therefore you deserve to live’ kinda way)

Idk if you like this but feel free to ignore this if you’re uncomfortable! Tysm for your time!

hehehe do you know that wanderer is my favorite? Quite similarly to you, I took my time searching for a good name. I named him Aziz. It’s an Arabic name and I thought it was fitting since his new beginning began in Sumeru, a place based on the middle east. While Aziz means to be strong and powerful, it also means dear, darling, and precious. If SAGAU were to ever be real, I would want him to know that he is precious and loved. <33

since this ask is about secret creator!reader, i am going to assume that wanderer is still unaware of your identity when you mention the meaning of his name.

Yandere!Wanderer x Secret!Creator!Reader

--

The wanderer didn’t really care for names. He’s had so many throughout the years that he could care less how people addressed him. 

So when the traveler gave him his name, he didn’t really think much of it. After all, it was a name given to him by his former enemy. What special meaning could it have? The traveler never explained it and he never thought to ask.

He kept the name for convenience but rarely ever used it. Many still referred to him as wanderer and he didn’t bother to correct them. There were times he had even forgotten that he had a new name. 

The first time he actually ever cares about his name is the first time he hears it from you. 

The name rolls so casually off your tongue it’s as if you’ve said it a thousand times. The soothing sound of your voice saying the name that belonged solely  to him makes him feel so strange that he doesn’t even realize that he’s never told you his name before. 

Though it sounds foreign at first, he quickly grows accustomed to being called his new name. 

However, every time you call him that name, you have a certain look in your eyes that he couldn’t quite understand. You look at him as if he holds the world in his hands yet it’s accompanied by a sense of sadness. 

Unbeknownst to him, every time you say his name, you’re reminded of his past. You think about how while erasing his previous names, he intended to erase his entire existence along with it and it breaks your heart. 

Though he has trouble recognizing emotions, he can sense your sadness.

Finally, he caves into his curiosity and asks why you always have that look on your face. Why you look like you want to cry whenever that name is mentioned.

“... do you know what your name means?” 

You gaze at him with such soft eyes that he almost forgets to answer.

“No, why?”

“Your name means ‘gift from god’ and ‘blessed life.’”

It takes some time to process, but after finally realizing what the meaning of his name is, the wanderer grows a bit angry. 

Gift from god? Blessed life?

The traveler must be mocking him.

How can he be a gift from god when he was abandoned by his mother, the God of Eternity? and what part of his life is blessed when he’s committed countless sins and all he’s experienced is tragedy. 

Wanderer remains silent but he can feel your gaze on him. Those eyes that to seem to see right though him. 

—

Later on, he approaches the traveler. 

“Why did you name me __?’“

The traveler pauses, surprised by the sudden question. 

“I... don’t know, if I’m being honest.”

Wanderer scoffs. “How can you not know? Are you mocking me?”

“No, I really don’t know. Now that I think about it, it really is quite strange,” the traveler says as they recall the moment the wanderer was named. 

“At the time, the name just slipped from my mouth.” 

“It just slipped from your mouth? You don’t even know what it means?”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t. I’ve honestly never heard of the name before.”

Hearing this, the wanderer is a bit offended. It seems such little thought was put into his name. He thinks that maybe you were lying. He searched through many books in the Akademyia for the origin but he couldn’t find anything close to what you told him. 

The next time you call his name, he stops you. He tells you stop using it. Saddened, you ask him why.

“It’s a meaningless name and whatever you claimed it means doesn’t even suit me.”

“What do you mean? I...whoever named you must see you as a gift. Your life is a blessing to them.”

“The person that named me doesn’t even know the meaning.”

You grow quiet upon hearing this. You can’t refute him, unable to explain to him that you were the person to name him. 

You’re heartbroken that he thinks so little of himself. You want nothing more than to tell him that he really is a blessing. That he’s important to you and worthy of living. But you remain silent and he does as well. 

He stops going by that name and decides to go by wanderer instead. He’s confused by your eyes that well up with unshed tears when he asks you call him wanderer instead of the name you had given him. 

It isn’t until you are exposed that he understands.

You are the creator and it was you that bestowed the name upon him while you were living through the eyes of the traveler.

This revelation sparks so many questions. 

Why did you name him that? Do you really see him as a blessing? Does he really mean that much to you?

His heart is hopeful but more and more anxiety fills his being the longer his thinks about it. 

Are you upset that he stopped using his name? Do you think he isn’t proud of it?

He doesn’t know what he’d do if you decided to take it back. But even if you tried, he wouldn’t let you. Suddenly, it’s apart of who he is now - the basis of his identity. Anyone who calls him wanderer now is immediately corrected.

He wants to confront you but he hasn’t seen you since your identity was exposed. You’ve disappeared without a trace, leaving his heart empty.

Nothing but your voice can sooth his aching heart and he can’t rest until finds you.

Until he hears you call his name once more, now that he’s finally able to appreciate it’s meaning. 

[j-eryewrites]

Stressed Out

MAIN MASTER LIST

Word Count: 1.k <

Warnings: Not really any, kind of ooc Sherlock (but who cares)

Author's Note: Finally feeling like I have time to write and that the writing gods have been in my favor. This was a fun little one-shot to write. While I'm still trying to get back into my writing groove, this one shot definitely helped get some of the dust off my creative writing brain. So, thank you @my-dear-sweet-melody for requesting this one. I hope you enjoy it!

You weren’t sure how you’d been doing it: managing the day-to-day lives of two people who also happened to be good friends of yours, assisting Sherlock with cases, seeing things you’d never thought you’d see in your lifetime (both good and bad), juggling relationships, your own well-being and health, and time to relax. Although it seemed like you had less and less time to do the things concerning yourself. You knew it wasn’t healthy, but when you were thrust into the world of Sherlock Holmes, more important things came into play.

Sherlock was the first to notice how the stress was weighing on you. It was a total shock when he casually announced your current state to John. The moment the words of concern were uttered from Sherlock’s lips, the puzzle in John’s mind had been completed. With the help of Mrs. Hudson, the two men began to conspire to make life easier for their dear friend.

At first, Sherlock’s conscious decision to wash his dishes and put them away in the correct cabinets struck you as odd. Sherlock’s mind was usually too busy for such arbitrary tasks, and such magnificent brain power couldn’t be wasted on such a thing. Then came the tidiness of his experiments. You could swear you hadn’t seen a stray finger or eyeball dissolving in vinegar for quite some time.

When you had asked Sherlock about his new behavior, he shrugged it off with some wildly strange research idea he had come up with. You tried to follow along, but your brain began to hurt after a moment, so you opted to believe him instead.

Meanwhile, John took extra care to charge his and Sherlock’s devices. He knew no matter how brilliant Sherlock was, the man seemingly ceased to forget that computers, phones, and the lot needed to be charged via a charging cord and port. On the other hand, Mrs. Hudson made the note to prepare extra tea and biscuits to save yourself the trouble of doing that for Sherlock and John.

Now, you felt no need to question John and Mrs.Hudson’s new behavior. It was in character for them to do small things like that. However, you continued to question Sherlock; he grew tired of it. Why couldn’t you see that he cared for you, too? That maybe he cared a bit more for you than he should. He was growing weary of the excuses he made to your insistent questions when all he wanted to do was throw them up and tell you the truth. Truthfully, the truth was something he insisted upon. Sherlock always found it one way or another. Yet, he could only fib when you had a new query about his altered behavior. Was it hard for you to understand that Sherlock could care? That he, too, could be human?

“Sherlock,” you called as you sat on the couch, pouring over the current case. It was usually your job to organize each thing into its Sherlockian category to save Sherlock his brain power. However, when you opened the file, it had already been done. “Did I happen to organize this in my sleep?” You raised the file and peered at him. Sherlock felt his mind conjure up the latest lie. Just before it left his mouth, he paused. He got up and marched to the window, where he began to gaze out onto the street below. He couldn’t lie anymore. He had to tell you the truth.

“I organized it,” Sherlock said.

You froze. Something was seriously wrong with the man if he was now organizing his own cases. “Sherlock, you never orga–”

“Why can’t I?” Sherlock’s voice grew tense. His eyes clenched shut, all while his back was still towards you. He wouldn’t dare look at you. He knew if he saw your eyes, he’d crumble and tell you everything, but everything was what you needed to hear. Everything was what he needed to say.

“I never said you couldn’t. It’s just,” you faltered, “…strange.”

Within a moment, Sherlock whirled around. His icy blue eyes began to thaw under your gaze. “I observed you have stressed: Your trousers falling to your hips instead of hanging snuggly on your waist, the dark circles under your eyes that only grew prominent by the day, the growing urge to sleep instead of join Mrs. Hudson for the weekly watch party of the latest soap opera,” Sherlock shut his mouth. He had said too much already; he shouldn’t say more, but his lips moved again. “I wasn’t the only one who noticed, John and Mrs. Hudson, too. We devised a plan to lessen the blow of our–my constant mess.”

As Sherlock spoke, you realized his words were only the truth. You had noticed you suddenly had more time to eat a meal, spend time with your favorite landlady, who was more like a mother, go on walks in the park with John, listen to Sherlock compose his latest piece, sleep, and live life as it should be lived. Amidst Sherlock’s rambling, you whispered, “Why?”

“Because we–because I care you for,” Sherlock choked.

Slowly, you remove yourself from the comfort of the couch cushions and find a place in front of Sherlock. You watch as Sherlock shudders from the touch of your hand on his cheek. “Thank you,” you said as a smile grew. “Thank you for caring when I forgot to take care of myself. Although…”

Sherlock frowned.

“…while I appreciate the sentiment of you organizing your own cases, John charging the computers, and Mrs. Hudson always preparing tea, I’d still like to be able to do my job. After all, the great Sherlock Holmes still needs to use his brain power to solve cases and save the day.”

Sherlock could only smile at that response for he'd give you anything you'd ask. "Of course. Of course, Y/N."

____

Comment below if you would like to be added to the tag list! Please comment or reblog if you can; I want to hear from you.

Tag list:

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@myszur-blog

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_____

[eitaababe]

EVEN IT'S A LIE !

epilogue.

[ a / n ; i finished! who would've thought. ]

series masterlist. | previous.

— two years later !

after having to deal with the baggage from ao'nung, the past couple of years had been nothing short of focusing on yourself. with the help of your friends, you were able to find yourself again, assuring yourself you'd never let a man dictate the way you felt about yourself ever again.

of course, avoiding ao'nung when you go to the same university is nearly impossible. you see each other in passing every few months or so, trying your best to limit any sort of contact with each other.

you'd grown closer with rotxo, with him being a better friend to you than you ever could have expected. it's strange, how well you're able to avoid ao'nung when your best friends with the two people closest to him.

still, the limited contact keeps the damage to a minimum.

because you'd be lying if you said you didn't think of him from time to time, the three words he claimed to be nothing but the truth. and how you were deceived into feeling the same.

but you're content, and over time you'd started to find yourself again. making it a weekly thing to just go out on your own, to your favorite cafe for some alone time.

so when you walk in, the last thing you expect to see is ao'nung's face behind the counter, an apron tied around his figure.

you feel your throat go dry when his eyes widen, and he tries to keep as professional as he can, clearing his throat before speaking up. "what can i get for you today?"

"uhm," you stutter, blinking multiple times before bringing yourself back to reality. it's more than a shock, seeing him in a place that was supposed to bring you peace, and now is making your head spin in such a way it makes you forget your usual order. "just a iced chai, please."

"you wanna take a muffin with that?"

you're surprised as the question slips out his mouth. you've always liked to pair your drink with some sort of muffin over the years, a small detail you definitely didn't expect him to remember.

"uh, yes please. how about a-"

"blueberry." he says quietly and in sync with you as he jots it down casually. you don't understand how he seems to be so nonchalant over this, like the interaction isn't so out of the blue for him.

you both stand there silently as he finishes up the order, and you pay, your eyes meeting after. and when they do, it's like you could fall into him all over again. his eyes are like the ocean, waves so dangerous yet you can't help but want to jump in. you have to pull your gaze away, breaking you both out the trance.

"look, i'm- i'm really sorry," he breathes out, and taking this as an opportunity as nobody else is in line behind you, and the cafe is experiencing its dead hour. "i know it was years ago, but i was an asshole. really. and i just- i've worked on myself, and i've had time to reflect, and i still can't believe i did what i did."

you smile at the sincerity of his voice, and you can do nothing but believe him. it's true, he's grown as a person in the past years and so have you. you can practically see how he's matured, carrying himself with a calm sense of confidence, different from the cockiness that once was.

"it's alright, really," you assure, nodding as you're finally able to hold a civil conversation after all this time. "i mean- we're both really different people now. we've grown, and learned, and it's water under the bridge, honestly. and i know it might not mean much," i chuckle. "but i was finally able to bring myself to forgive you."

"it's a lot," he admits, smiling back at you with a certain sweetness behind it. "it's everything. really." he assures, and this time, you're sure he means it.

after a few smiling moments you glance down, deciding to take a leap.

"would you like to join me? maybe for just a bit, i know you're working. but.. just as friends."

because despite what ao'nung did to you, there's always a soft spot for him in your heart. always a part of you that will know him, no matter how much he changes. and maybe you don't realize it either, but it's just the same for him.

his smile grows even wider at the invitation, and you can feel your heart swell at the sight.

"i'd love to."

[🏷️ ; taglist. / closed ] @loaksbitch @8resa @n7ytiri @yukichan67 @dearstell @halibanana @teyums @lightskinloak @ipoopedmypants47 @aonungmybf @il0veheartz @chittakii @jjkclub @universal-s1ut @ilovejakesullysdick @calums-betch @izuoyarmin @yeosxxx @cl0esblogg @alwayswndr @iheartamajiki @jenniferdixon05207 @manumanulau @myh3artttt @sugarrush-blush @be3flow3r @cupidsl0ve

[cufff-it]

À DEUX PAS

PART II : COMPLICITÉ

pairing: kylian mbappe x reader

summary: when Y/N moves to Bondy and meets her new neighbor Kylian, they become fast friends. But as they grow up side by side, their bond faces new challenges that could change everything.

A/N: english is not my first language, I apologize in advance, enjoy reading

Bondy, September 2012.

Y/N and Kylian have grown up a bit. At 14, they’re now in middle school, and starting a new year brings its own changes. For the first time in a while, they’re not in the same class. When Y/N heard the news, she felt a pang of disappointment. They were so used to seeing each other every day, sitting side by side in class, exchanging looks whenever the teacher said something funny. Now, they’d only see each other during breaks.

On the first day of school, they find each other in the courtyard with Lina, who’s still in Y/N’s class, and Amine, who’s now in Kylian’s.

“We’re definitely going to miss you,” Kylian says with a teasing grin. “But don’t worry, Y/N—I’ll visit you sometimes so you don’t forget about me.”

Y/N rolls her eyes, pretending to be unaffected. “As if I’m thinking about you all the time.” she says, but there’s a hint of a smile that gives her away. Honestly, the thought of him not being there feels strange.

The first few weeks of school pass quickly, and even though Y/N sees Kylian during breaks, adjusting to this change isn’t easy. Kylian, on the other hand, seems to be making new friends in his class, including a girl named Inès. Inès is friendly, always smiling, and she likes football as much as Kylian does. Y/N can’t help noticing that Kylian is spending more and more time with her, which stirs a hint of jealousy.

One day, while they’re hanging out after school, Y/N tries to bring it up without sounding too obvious.

“So… do you like your new class?” she asks casually.

Kylian nods, a knowing smile creeping onto his face. “Yeah, it’s alright. There are some nice people, like Inès. She’s really funny and loves football too.”

Y/N feels a tiny pang of jealousy. She looks down, hiding her unease. “Oh… that’s nice,” she mumbles, though she’s more worried than she’d admit.

Kylian, always quick to pick up on things, notices her reaction and grins, unable to resist teasing her.

“Why do you look like that?” he asks, moving closer to look her in the eye. “Are you jealous or something?”

Y/N feels her cheeks grow warm and quickly looks away. “No way. Why would I be jealous?”

He laughs, clearly amused to see her blush. “Because I’m your best friend, maybe? Don’t worry, Y/N. Even if I talk to other people, you’re still my favorite person to annoy.”

She pretends to be offended. “Oh, what an honor.”

But deep down, hearing Kylian reassure her feels comforting. Even if she doesn’t say it out loud, knowing he values their friendship means the world to her.

One Saturday night, Y/N’s family hosts a small dinner with Kylian’s family. It’s a tradition that goes back to their childhood, since their families get along well and enjoy catching up over a good meal. At the table, their parents chat about school and Kylian’s football ambitions.

“So, Kylian, you’re still set on being a footballer?” Y/N’s dad asks with a grin.

Kylian nods. “Of course! It’s my dream.”

Y/N’s mom smiles. “And Y/N, are you interested in sports too?”

Y/N laughs. “Not really. I prefer quiet things.” She glances over at Kylian, who’s watching her with a mischievous look.

“You could be my coach, you know!” he teases. “That way, you’d always be around.”

Y/N shakes her head, laughing. “I’ll stick to cheering from the stands, thanks. But I’ll come to watch you play, I promise.”

Their parents exchange knowing smiles, recognizing how much the two mean to each other.

As the year goes on, Y/N keeps seeing Kylian spending time with Inès and his new friends. One day, as she walks through the school hallway, she sees Kylian and Inès talking, laughing at a joke he just made. He smiles at her in a way that Y/N usually sees directed at herself.

A bit troubled, Y/N wonders if their friendship is changing, if she’s slowly losing him. These thoughts linger for a few days, and she finds herself pulling away and avoiding him during break times.

Kylian, noticing her change in attitude, finally catches up with her after school. He waits for her by the school gate, arms crossed, a mix of worry and amusement in his smile.

“Are you avoiding me or something?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

She shakes her head, trying to hide her awkwardness. “No… not at all.”

“Oh, really? Because I don’t see you as much anymore.” He looks her in the eyes, waiting for an answer.

Under his steady gaze, Y/N finally lets her guard down. “It’s just that… I see you spending so much time with Inès and everyone else. I feel like… I’m not really part of your life in the same way anymore.”

Kylian looks at her, surprised, before giving a soft smile. “Y/N, are you serious? You’re really jealous, huh.”

She opens her mouth to protest, but he holds up a hand, his grin teasing but warm. “Listen, yeah, Inès is cool. But she’s not you. You’re my friend, and you know me better than anyone.”

He pauses, then leans in and adds in a whisper, “And besides, I don’t tease her as much as I do you, because she doesn’t blush like you do.”

Y/N feels her cheeks get even warmer and looks away, mumbling, “Stop making fun of me…”

Kylian laughs, clearly satisfied. “Relax, I promise. Even if we’re in different classes, even if I talk to other people, you’ll always be my closest friend.”

They share a long look, a quiet understanding between them, and Y/N finally feels her jealousy fade. She realizes that no matter what changes, their friendship is stronger than that.

That evening, Y/N heads home with a lighter heart, reassured by Kylian’s words. She knows now that, though there may be times when they drift apart, they’ll always find a way back to each other. It’s the kind of silent promise they’ve shared for years, and she knows he’ll keep it.

[bitethedustfools]

TWST Story Idea (11)

Yuu= He/Him cuz its people pov

The coffin did not contain a single person but instead two people, stuffed in together uncomfortably: a boy and a girl whose appearances mirrored each other as expected of twins.

Crowley did not know this when he first declared Grim and one of the twins to be two in one package students because one wandered off when this happened. Once united, the twins realized that if they admitted there was a third person, it would either be the other twin or Grim, who might not be able to go to NRC.

They had made the decision to fool everyone that there were only two beings instead of three living in the ramshackle dorm, just so that no one could separate them.

The twins became one person, exchanging places every day and making sure they detailed their day down to the specifics in case someone asked them.

Since they had different genders and personalities, naturally, their behavior didn't match up, so they tried to create another persona mixing some of their characteristics instead of creating a new one, which would be hard to play the role.

The way they moved was easy to mimic because they were twins who had done everything together, but sometimes it was easy to forget who they were supposed to be, leading to the image falling apart. So, the persona must have a certain gait made from a mix of them.

The same goes for the rest of their characteristics. They took the differences between them and mixed them into one. The soft-spoken girl and the hot-tempered boy became a person who was well-mannered but wouldn't be afraid to retaliate. The brain and the brawn combined to be a competent person.

This person was Yuu, a persona which the twins must become so that their secrets are safe.

It was hard to maintain this persona, but the twins got to rest some days when it wasn't their turn, and the paperwork dropped by Crowley was done much faster with two people. In addition, one could even go to school while the other did some errands outside of school. This meant easy money stockpile, although it dwindled slightly since there were three living beings now.

They were certain that their secret was safe, even though some had cast suspicious looks at them, but no one had ever spoken out loud about it, so that was fine.

However, being seen as something not entirely human did not crossed their minds.

-

Everyone thought Yuu was strange. Almost all who paid more attention would notice that there was something wrong with him.

Yuu's voice couldn't stay the same tone. It changed frequently and subtly. It would be low and high-pitched, like a normal male voice trying to sound a bit like a woman, and another would resemble a young boy trying to imitate a man's voice by deepening it.

They thought Yuu was messing with them or it was just his way of talking. Not that they fully believed it, but it was better to ignore things, you know?

Often, Yuu spoke politely, and then the next moment, he would send a glare or speak with a hardened tone to someone who managed to offend him in some way. People didn't really get scared at that, seeing as it was just a mild scolding.

Another day, he would do the same, but it was different. This one seemed forced when speaking softly, yet when he was mad, that's when it was the most genuine, and it scared most people.

Someone once caught Yuu looking at a mirror and practicing his expression.

The said person thought it was funny until Yuu said, "My facial muscles are too stiff. I can't get it right."

They all thought Yuu was similar to Floyd, but clearly, this was a different case.

And not to mention, Yuu's movements seemed calculated, as though he was scared of making a mistake. Sometimes they were too stiff, and other times there were too many sways or the steps were irregular, and so on. Some noticed that Yuu's eyes widened slightly before assuming a certain gait that the others had seen plenty of times.

"I almost forgot how to do this…" his murmurs could still be heard, and it made everyone break into cold sweats rapidly.

Some beastmen thought they smelled the scent of a female on Yuu, but the next day it was male. It was different every day, and sometimes it happened in a row. He confronted Yuu one day and was met with a blank face, and then a rather tight smile.

He did not get an answer, but the next few days, the scent of a male on Yuu continued, and Yuu's gaze bore into his soul with a vicious glare.

His mind had come to a conclusion that Yuu was not human.

Some say they witnessed Yuu's doppelganger in some random place before stumbling upon another Yuu, which frightened most people because Yuu denied having seen them, and he had an alibi with Grim.

Yuu's friends, the first-years, thought that Yuu and the ramshackle dorm were weird and creepy. Often, they would hear Yuu talking to himself or loud noises coming from a different room or sudden shuffling when they looked back.

Yuu had them all convinced to announce their presence before opening a room because of ghosts or something. Yuu would also cook plenty and then eat and leave one serving behind, telling them not to touch it.

Yuu would then leave the room and return after a couple of seconds to eat that one serving, much to everyone's confusion and surprise. After all, Yuu usually ate little, and sometimes the plate was full, but this time, there were two plates.

When asked, Yuu who devoured the food almost like a starving animal simply replied, "I'm hungry."

Seeing his everyday strange quirks, the meaning simply changed into something else.

[teecupangel]

So I recently found out that in AC: Brotherhood, Ezio can do a back flip if he jumps off a horse onto a beam. That said I screamed at my game “Since when can you do that!?” And can’t help but think of your ratatouille au

The Ratatouille AU where the ancestors can hear Desmond while ‘playing’ and its more unhinged cousin, the Ratatouille AU where Desmond can hear us. 

This makes me remember how I played the majority of AC1 not knowing Altaïr can fucking vault.

Like the first time I accidentally did that, I was like “wait, what???” and I just spent like 10ish minutes (I think) trying to figure out how the hell I did that.

Soooo…

Have this, nonny?

.

“Ah, yes, yes. You would recover from those muscle aches in time.” The dottore noted as he looked over Ezio, nodding to himself as he added, “Yes, someone of your age must take care not to strain your muscles too much. Medicines will be ineffective, I’m afraid.”

Ezio looked at the sky with a deadpan expression on his face, ignoring how this was the second doctor to have talked about how medicine wouldn’t work for someone his ‘age’.

“Here. It will dull the pain and make you forget the ache.” The dottore gave Ezio the same medicine he always got and he drank it immediately. The dottore stared at him for a moment before handing him another bottle without saying anything about it, only continuing their ‘conversation’ as Ezio pocketed the medicine, “If I may ask, messere, what have you done for you to be in such a state?”

Ezio glanced at his horse who was standing pretty a few feet away from them then to the sky where Desmond is strangely quiet before turning to stare at the dottore to reply, “A friend of mine kept asking me to ‘do a backflip’.”

“Ah, and you cannot say no to this ‘friend’ of yours?”

Ezio’s deadpan stare seemed to move pass the dottore and straight to the Animus’ camera which he shouldn’t even know about as he said, “No.”

“... I see…”

.

“Desmond…” 

There was a hint of resignation in the tone that Desmond ignored.

“Desmond…”

Resignation has been replaced by annoyance but Desmond ignored that as well.

“Desmond.”

Annoyance left his name, leaving nothing but a warning that Desmond ignored as well.

“Desmond.”

Finally, the growl that left Altaïr’s lips that bordered in growing anger was the note that finally forced Desmond to stop.

“I do not understand why you can’t figure out how to make me vault.” Altaïr commented as he rubbed the bridge of his nose, “You managed to do it fifteen minutes ago.”

“I know!” Desmond exclaimed, the frustration clear in his own tone as he explained, “And I have no freaking idea how I did it! That’s why I’m trying out all the buttons!”

“Do we have to do this here?” Altaïr hissed.

“Yes! That box is the perfect height for you to vault!”

“Desmond…” Altaïr covered his face, ignoring the people shamelessly staring at them, “We’re in the middle of the village… in Masyaf.”

“Would you rather be in Acre or Damascus? With all those strangers???”

“Yes, I would actually prefer that. At least there, people won’t know it was me and remember it was me for years to come!” Altaïr argued as he glared at his shadow, a habit he had taken up on whenever he wished to glare at Desmond but knew he did not exist in the same plane as him. Glaring at the sky felt a bit… too much so he just glared at his shadow instead.

“So the rumors are true. You’ve finally lost it.” 

Both Altaïr and Desmond sighed at the same time.

“You know…” Desmond paused for a moment before he suggested, “I don’t think Al Mualim would punish you any more than he already has if we beat the crap out of him?”

Altaïr thought about it for a moment before nodding in agreement, “If I get hit even once by Abbas, I will find a way to journey to your time and show you how I truly fight.”

“Hey, if you can take out the assholes keeping me here, I’ll spar with you all day.” Desmond agreed before adding, “But first…”

Altaïr jumped on the box once more and he hissed as the flush of his face deepened in embarrassment, “Desmond!”

“Sorry! I thought I got it this time!”

[gamblingcaffeineaddict]

A/N: ayyyy I’m back with part two of my previous fic i spend all my days trying to forget her face. Dialogue might get confusing, sorry 😭😭

she’s so hard to erase, i don’t think she can be replaced

warning for angst and a bittersweet ending. you die at the end. please read part 1 for context!

The moon bathed the alchemy commission in its silver light as the doctor sat alone on its worn down docks. Waves gently crashed onto the pillars supporting the harbor below. How did I even get here? They thought.

Their feet took them to the deserted commission after a heart wrenching encounter with a ghost of their past. Specifically speaking, a woman resembling someone long gone.

Jingliu… The doctor looked up into the starry sky to the full moon hanging above. Even centuries later, they felt a pang in their chest. I can’t help but think of you every time I gaze at a full moon like this.

The strange woman from earlier… even if it was Jingliu, she didn’t seem to recognize them. She spoke no words and her facial expression didn’t change. In fact, there was no sign of familiarity at all. She didn’t even chase after [Name] as they walked away hurriedly with tears threatening to fall from their eyes.

The doctor regrets that they never actually became close with Jingliu. At the time, keeping their distance seemed right and logical, but now the pain of loss has subsided. All that’s left is wistful regret and longing. If they had been closer, would Jingliu have remembered them? [Name] didn’t realize they were crying again until they felt warm tears slide down their cheeks.

A snap of a twig cuts the silence, causing [Name]’s head to whip around at the sudden sound. A Mara-struck soldier has creeped up behind them. Their blade was held above their head to make a fatal blow. Before the doctor could react, they heard the all too familiar whistling of a blade, and the monster was cut in two. The monster crumbled to dust, revealing a blindfolded woman with her sword in hand.

Speechless, [Name] sat there with their eyes wide and lips slightly agape. Of all the people to save them, it had to be her.

“…Jingliu.” They spoke softly. There was no denying it now, it had to be her. Why else would she be here saving them right now? Hope flared in [Name]’s chest that Jingliu could remember them, even if it was just the slightest bit. But their hopes were quickly crushed the moment she spoke.

“So you know who I am,” Jingliu responded in a monotone voice. She still gripped tightly onto her sword, a sign that she was still on her guard.

I guess that was to be expected. The doctor smiled sadly. After all, I am but a mere stranger to her.

“You could say that.” [Name] was half expecting Jingliu to hold her sword against their throat and demand answers, but instead she sheathes her sword and simply sits beside them on the dock a few inches away.

“It’s been centuries since I last set foot openly on the Luofu,” Jingliu says. “Most people do not remember me, or do not dare utter my name. You say it as if you knew me personally. You don’t shy away from the taboo surrounding me.”

The doctor lets out a dry laugh and looks into the distance. “Of course not. I did know you personally for a good few hundred years. Although we weren’t close, I know you aren’t as bad as people label you to be.”

Jingliu remains silent. [Name] feels her eyes linger on their melancholic expression through the black fabric over her gaze.

“When I bumped into you earlier, I felt a strange sadness tug at my heart.”

[Name] suddenly turns towards her. Sadness? So something might be left after all…

“Is there anything else you feel?” The doctor poked.

“…” Jingliu pauses briefly. “There is… regret, though I am not sure why.”

Regret? But what did she have to regret with me? It piqued the doctor’s interest even more. “Can you remember more? Anything at all? You shouldn’t have anything to regret with me.”

Now it’s Jingliu’s turn to let out a dry laugh. “How can you be so sure? You said so yourself that we weren’t close. How do you know I wasn’t hiding something from you?”

As she said those words, a memory flashed in her mind, hitting her like lightning.

The memory was overall blurry, but Jingliu knew where she was. She was transported to a warm day near the training grounds of the Cloud Knights. The sky is blue and cloudless, with the ocsssional starskiff sailing through the sky. The sun is warm and the breeze is gentle on her skin. She could immediately tell that this memory took place during a simpler time in her life.

Jingliu was resting under a tree, leisurely chatting away with someone beside her. Instinctively, she knew their name. [Name].

[Name] was happily chatting about something that happened earlier that day. Their smile was captivating to Jingliu. It warmed her heart and felt more radiant than the sun hanging high in the sky. Their laughter was melodic and made her chest flutter.

She felt at ease with [Name]. There was no “Sword Champion,” no “Master,” no “Transcendent Flash,” but simply “Jingliu.” With [Name], Jingliu could relax from her duties and breathe easy for a while; It felt different than when she was with the High Cloud Quintet.

A thought came to her on that warm day. It flashed in her mind for a mere second, but it made her realize something. Jingliu simply thought, “I wonder what it would be like to see their smile everyday for the rest of my life.” Then it clicked.

Am I…in love with [Name]?

The realization filled her with excitement. Her heart felt like it would burst with butterflies. But that also filled her with a dreadful uneasiness.

For once, her goals and desires clashed with each other. To grow stronger to rival the heavens, or to stay for her love on the Xianzhou? Her heart argued one side, and her rationality took the other.

Ultimately, Jingliu decided that this crush of hers cannot get in the way of her goal. She made up her mind to cast her silly feelings aside, but that didn’t stop her from longing for their affections every single day until she became mara-struck. Then… she forgot everything about [Name].

Ah.

No wonder she regrets.

Jingliu regrets even more now. She regrets forgetting [Name] entirely.

Jingliu clenched the side of her head in pain as the memory ended. She felt like she was suffocating under the tides of these old, forgotten emotions overwhelming her at once.

“Jingliu?! Are you okay?!” [Name] reached out their hand but stopped short of coming into contact with her. The same feelings that kept their distance from the swordswoman long ago made them hesitate.

When Jingliu’s breathing resumed to normal and her painful headache subsided, she looked up at [Name]. Because she recovered her memories, the Mara struck and her blindfold dissipated. [Name] could clearly see into her pained crimson eyes for the first time in centuries. Jingliu spoke in a quiet voice, “…how is it possible that we weren’t close?”

“We always kept our relationship professional.” [Name] averted Jingliu’s gaze, looking back to the calm moonlit sea in front of them.

“But… I remember talking with you. I remember falling in love with you.”

Time seemed to stop once again as those words fell from Jingliu’s lips. There was no way, absolutely no way, that all this time she liked [Name] back. No, she loved them back the same way they have for all these lonely years.

So all that pain [Name] shouldered out of thinking Jingliu wouldn’t ever spare a glance at them like that, was for naught? Maybe it was foolish of them to blot the idea out right away instead of even confessing first. [Name] could feel their heart starting to bleed from this old, self-inflicted wound they’ve made onto themselves.

But a part of what [Name] thought about Jingliu not prioritizing romance must be true, or else she would’ve confessed her feelings at some point.

“…I’m sorry that I claim to love you but have also forgotten you.”

Jingliu’s apology brings [Name] out of their thoughts. She wasn’t ever the person to coward away, so she looked straight into [Name]’s eyes. But vulnerability and sincere remorse was present in her voice. [Name] shook their head. “There’s nothing to be sorry about. I understand. After all, I kept my distance from you purposefully, because I didn’t think you’d feel the same way.”

Jingliu’s eyes widened. “The same way? Then you mean you loved me too?”

“Very much,” [Name] placed their hand on top of Jingliu’s. “I have loved you for all these years, even after you were long gone.”

“I think about you every night when I look at the moon. I think about you when I watch Jing Yuan train his apprentice, because I used to watch you train him in the same way. I think about you when I tend to patients who’ve hurt themselves in battle. I never forgot you for a moment.”

It feels like a stab to Jingliu’s heart to know that [Name] always thought of her. They both loved each other yet… she just forgot everything. It fills her with guilt. She also thinks that maybe she shouldn’t have simply wished for [Name] to make a move first.

“Our circumstances are very different now,” [Name] continued. “Even if we do love each other still, we can’t be together. I’m sure you know that too.”

“It won’t be long until I’m Mara-struck myself. I’ve been living for a long time now,” they smiled with sad acceptance. “It’s better for us if we both moved on.”

Silence. Jingliu knows in her heart that it’s the cruel truth. Truly, they were both scared of the consequences of their feelings, and they paid the price with guilt and years of painful longing.

“Before we say goodbye, allow me one last thing.”

Jingliu gently cupped [Name]’s cheek and pulled them for a soft, tender kiss. It felt as if all of her unspoken emotions were finally being shared after ages of being hidden away, tucked into the deepest corners of her heart. [Name] returned her sentiment by kissing her back with the same passion. They’ve waited all this time for such a simple, fleeting act.

They pulled away reluctantly, still feeling the warmth of each other’s lips. They stayed close in tranquil silence, basking in the last few moments they had with each other.

“Goodbye, my love.”

The Transcendent Flash was gone as swiftly as she came. There was no trace of her ever being there besides the relief in the heart of the doctor who now sat alone at the docks.

There wasn’t a need to really hold on much longer. The build up of memories started taking its toll on [Name], and now that their final wish has been fulfilled, they can rest.

It is said that the doctor lived out the rest of their years happy and light of burden. They succumbed to the Mara peacefully without losing the rest of their sanity to becoming a monster.

One day, they hope to reunite with their lover in the stars when her goal too, is fulfilled.

title is from “forget her” by girl in red.

[venice-1987]

TDPtober 2-love

Summary: Corvus reflects on what he loves

Pairings: Soren x Corvus (Of course its Sorvus, its me writing this :P)

There was much traced into the lines of his memory. The way the chill of autumn was drawn into the lungs, refreshing the body from the heat of summer. The way the leaves became dry and brittle underfoot, nourishing the earth for the coming spring. A home in the alleys of trees, off beaten paths and into the thickets, where the greenery sheltered him like a warm blanket. 

He had dedicated himself to remember his parents, the home cooked meals from his father, carefully spooning the dish onto his empty plate. A mother, and her barely contained love in a crushing embrace, laughing as he tried to breathe and flailed, pretending to attempt an escape. He remembered their pride when he was recruited to be among Amaya’s scouts, and the same shine in their eyes when Soren had accepted him as a crownguard. 

And Soren. It felt like if anything had made itself at home in his thoughts, it was him. Some things good. The way he leapt into hugging Corvus in the mushroom forest. Some things bad. The tired lines under his eyes after the return to a burned home. Some things terrible. The wailing sobs, inhuman screams tearing at his throat at the loss of a sister, not literally, but through change. She had become unrecognizable, and he grieved in privacy until Corvus had found him. 

But nothing came close to everything Soren had done in love. It felt as if he tried to forget, that a core part of his mind would be lost, and he wouldn’t be the same, lobotomized and left changed. The laugher Soren always seemed to bring, the smile tugging at his lips when he looked eagerly to see if he had succeeded in bringing a little bit more joy into Corvus’s day. They way he had taken Corvus’s hand, correcting the positioning on the sword, helping him improve a little more. The way he took note of when Corvus was overwhelmed, and the gentle way he guided Corvus to safety. The way he was kind. The way he pushed Corvus to become better just by virtue of being good himself. 

There was one day Corvus would never forget, that encapsulated everything he knew Soren to be. It was a bad day for the both of them. Corvus had taken the destruction of Katolis poorly, the home he had come to love had gone, which made him think of the homes and the people he had left behind. He realized that he had sunken into his solitude too readily, not writing like he should have. The resounding guilt multiplied the tension in his body with the sensory overload that the refugee camp had become that day. But there was ceaseless work to be done, and he ran himself ragged that despite it. 

When he saw Soren around camp, he knew his captain was doing no good either. He wondered if this time, it was because of Viren’s haunting memory, or the lingering reminder of a once familiar Claudia in every broken stone, in every hidden pathway that was not collapsed and used in recovery missions. He had once led Corvus and Opeli and Barius and later the young king Ezran out of those passages. He wondered if, then, Soren had recognized that his family would never be the same as it once did. 

Corvus had returned to their shared tent expecting Soren to be curled on his sleeping mat, wanting to be left in peace. He did not expect Soren to be there with a plate of peanut caramel pies, one of his favorite treats, and some strange looking curved stick with two wads of cotton on either end. He sat crossed legged, his shoulders hunched over in clear fatigue and his smile tired. But it reached his eyes. When he spoke, it carried the weight of the day in its softness. 

“You looked stressed today,” he said. “I asked Barius to make these, and I made this. I call it a noise-stopper. You put it over your ears.” Soren held up his invention, waiting for permission. When Corvus nodded, he leaned forward, setting the cotton pads gently over Corvus’s ears. It did not stop the noise completely, but it provided a hefty shield against what made noise overwhelming in the first place. The texture felt nice on his skin, too, much like the sheep’s soft wool that made the clothes he wore. 

Corvus did not know what to say, so he leaned forward and pressed his lips against Soren’s in a grateful kiss. At that point, their tentative relationship had not gone anywhere past hand holding, and looks that said ‘I’m starting to see you as something different. I’m sorry it took this tragedy to finally notice.’ He did not think the kiss would be rejected, and he was glad to see it returned with the same energy he put into it. Neither was surprised in the development, but it was nice to have confirmation. Their sleeping mats had been gradually drifting closer to each other every night for the past two weeks, and they finally closed the distance completely that day. Corvus’s head tucked into the crook of Soren’s neck as they fell asleep, both knowing they loved, and were loved. 

[starburr]

Toxic sasharcy directed towards Anne but she's cool with it, maybe even down with it. She knows that they're together, and wouldn't want to become a wedge to drive them apart, but she still wants them both. She loves how horrible they can be to her. But of course she doesn't tell them that, otherwise they'd stop giving her attention. But she doesn't know that they know what her deal is and double down on their obsessiveness by constantly teasing that they'll marry her when they all grow up. Even before Amphibia it might have been a half-hearted promise, but even she couldn't deny she wanted it.

She adores how into each other they are, then the switch-up of how mean the looks they give her are. How she feels them staring daggers when she tries to act all nice around other people while they're watching, how them giving her the silent treatment awakened something in her that night. Even a 'Boonchuy don't be such a loser' sounded strangely appealing. So contrasted from even after saving two worlds together. Even as Marcy slaps her a bit too hard in a 'friendly' pat, she can't help but sink into her lap as the sun sets. Maybe it lingers on Anne's mind what Sasha said before they fell back down to Amphibia.

"You'd better come back alive, Boonchuy. I swear to frog, YOU'D BETTER!!!"

Even if it made its home in her thoughts from time to time, she would eventually think of it as nothing more than what might have been a sendoff then. Of course Anne's memory isn't perfect, she forgets as she grows older. Time goes by, and she falls out of touch. Busy with life and trying to keep up with the demands of downpayments and loans. Sasha moved out, God knows where. She never said where, Marcy claimed not to know either. Anne finds it weird, especially with how deadpan Marcy seemed on call, but chalked it up to her being tired.

Anne keeps on living her life. Maybe she's furnished up the family home, seeing new faces come and go. A pretty neighbor moves in nearby. Nothing out of the ordinary with their first meeting, a simple "Oh, hey! Didnt realize the new neighbor was so pretty!" Before scooping her grocery bags up to go inside. She instantly takes a liking to Anne. Maybe stopping by her house every so often, gossiping with her as 40 year old women with financially stable yet lonely households do. Of course, Anne instantly folds because she's so lonely. She subconsciously craves that attention and devotion she had then from the other two. She wonders how they're doing, always wishing them the best.

A full year goes by of them flirting and getting along, maybe even getting a little more handsy. She even stays over a few times, then suddenly, nothing. Her parents would have consoled her were they still there, she's all on her own with this conundrum.

The neighbor hasn't answered her calls, not even her texts. She flips on her phone to hopefully find some solace in mindless scrolling, she would have expected the neighbor to at least peruse a social media site even if she was ghosting Anne. So why was her last online status 3 days ago?

Then she sees it, not even 30 minutes of scrolling when a news flash article confirms why. She didnt even mean to scroll onto it when she sees a familiar name.

'Victim was stabbed to death on her way home from work.'

She's become another statistic. No evidence, no nothing, just another number as a grim reminder of how fragile human life is. Anne is admittedly horrified. She swears she just saw that pretty face yesterday, now mauled like a wild animal had gotten to her at the scene. And to think she was anticipating that her absence was due to a misunderstanding perhaps, that they would be snuggled up again tomorrow and holding hands as they mused on the future. She can't believe she kissed that mutilated visage barely a month ago. Anne is so caught in her grief in fact that she barely notices the two sets of eyes watching her from behind the counter, latching the door lock shut with a click as they move in closer.

"Hey Boonchuy."

She really was surprised that night on who made their way back to her.

[allthehumanflaws]

Reunion of Albion

[This is just a short headcanon that I had about BBC Merlin. Hope it helps you somewhat forget the pain of the finale. :)]

Nearly 1500 years after the death of the Once and Future King of Camelot. There is a shift in the air. The birds of Camelot seem more cheerful than ever. Everything seems as if shifting. The sun is brighter than before and the Queen stands in her room looking out in wonder. 

"Merlin! What is happening?" she called out. "I have no idea Gwen, but whatever it is I feel strangely happy." "You were looking for a counter spell, did you find it? It has been the same of years now." "No Gwen. Even the Great Dragon has no answers." said Merlin. 

Neither of them had aged a day. For 1500 years they were the same as they had been on the day when.... Some strange curse had befallen Camelot. The Queen, Sire Leon, Sir Percival, Merlin and Gaius had not aged a day. Nor had a lot many people. The world around them had reached many heights but how much ever Merlin tried he could never bring that change to Camelot. How much ever he tried he couldn't reverse the curse. It was as if Camelot was stuck at one place in the loop of time. Each year Merlin would try to do something to reverse it but nothing has worked. 

"Your Majesty! There is something happening at the Lake of Avalon." said Leon bursting inti the room. It wasn't far away so all of them set out immediately. 

"Merlin, Gaius do you know something of this?" asked Percival. "No. This is not something I know of." replied Gaius. The Lake was shining with a bright light. The trees were swaying to an unheard tune. There was some sort of movement in the middle of the Lake. 

Merlin stepped closer. In his heart, he knew what was happening. He had known a day would come when they would be reunited. A day when they all will return. All of them stared open mouthed. A bright light blinded them all. When they opened their eyes, it was a sight to behold.

Middle of the Lake their stood Arthur in all his might with the Excalibur glinting in his hand. Beside him stood Gwaine, strong and smiling his own sword in his hand. Elyan stood beside him, grinning from ear to ear and Lancelot, stood there smiling at his long lost friends. 

The Once and Future King has returned and with him have returned the Knights of Camelot. They were welcomed with open arms and flowing tears. There was a banquet and a feast. There was laughter and love. Camelot had returned to its full glory. But Merlin had not shed a single tear all day. It didn't seem real to him. To him, it seemed another of his many dreams. To him, it would all end. He had seen this before it ended with Gaius waking him up but as he decided that his going to sleep would end this, Gwaine came up behind him and said, "Merlin! There you are at last! I have been looking all over the place for you. I am a bit rusty, point me to the Tavern?" "Sir Gwaine has forgotten where the tavern is !? I must be dreaming!" said Percival. Leon entered behind him laughing followed by Elyan and Lancelot. Then came Gwen and then Gaius. Last of all came Arthur. They all laughed, and Merlin stared at them, tears finally prickling his eyes.

"Merlin, you idiot! What are you staring at?!" said Arthur smiling. 

He had them all back. He had them back and now he realized what had happened to Camelot. Albion was no other than Camelot. He was Albion and because he was awaiting the arrival of The Once and Future King with his Knights, Albion waited as well. And now the wait was over for Albion had finally been reunited.

[It's not enough to remove the pain, but I hope it's enough to give you hope that all was well after all. Hope you liked it!!]

[nanamin-nah-nanamine]

Satoru and his moon

hey guys I hope you all enjoy this little kidfic I whipped together. for clarification Satoru and Suguru are around ten here. If you enjoy leave a rb,like or comment and lmk if you want this to become a series

here's the shawty who wanted to be tagged @biscuitsngravie

Once upon a time, there was a boy who fell in love with the moon. A lonely boy, just shy of five years old and cursed with the greatest gift of all; power. The little god who shifted the plates of jujutsu society and paid for it in solitude. Satoru Gojo. The bearer of six eyes and limitless, the cure to the world’s poison, the start of a new era. Satoru was many things, but mainly; he was lonely. He had no siblings, being a male and the bearer of such precious techniques, his mother’s job was considered done. In the world of the clans she had hit the jackpot by giving birth to him and was given the freedom to do what she pleased. What seemed to please her most was leaving and forgetting her son had ever existed. Satoru doesn’t even know what she looked like.

The jealous women of the estate liked to talk and it turned out his mother was nothing but a common whore. Satoru didn’t know what a whore was, but the way they laughed and teased him when no one was looking, it couldn’t be anything nice. He didn’t try to ask his father, the man was too busy to answer unimportant questions. Satoru didn’t see his father often, but he didn’t mind. His cursed energy felt weird and made Satoru nauseous. He didn’t need a mother or father anyways when he had Hina-chan. She was technically his nursemaid, but was more of a mother to him than anyone. She’s the first face he sees in the morning and the last before he goes to bed. She was also the one to get him out of trouble before his father could find out. 

“Gojo-sama”she would chide gently, plucking him out of the muddy puddle he had taken residence in. “You’re all dirty now”

But one flash of that dimpled smile and he was usually off the hook. He used that to his advantage. Yes, Satoru was lonely. Hina-chan had other duties besides running after him and he wasn’t allowed to play with the other children on the estate lest they corrupt him. The only interactions he really got were from teachers,trainers and Hina-chan, but for someone so lonely he was constantly surrounded by glaring eyes and envious glances. People wanted him dead. He knew the taste of poison and it was much too dangerous for him to go beyond the estates grounds. Coddled and neglected. Like fine china, sat up on a shelf but not used even once. Around the age of six he learned the fine art of sneaking from his bedroom to sit in the garden and by the age of ten he had mastered it. It was quiet then. The pond rippled,the sun’s blinding gaze was put to rest and the cloying cursed energy had dulled to a hum. Peaceful it was to just sit and not be watched. He found comfort sitting and watching the moon, sometimes talking, sometimes not. It was all well and good, he finally had peace. Until one day something peculiar happened. The moon was dim. The stars still shone bright, but the moon had lost its shine. The night was dark, and Satoru didn’t fear the dark. He didn’t fear anything, but he was a bit disappointed. Climbing from his window proved to be a bit difficult without any light, but it wasn’t impossible. His bare feet hit the soft grass and a melodic voice spoke to him.

“So you came”it said, full of mirth. 

“I always come here,”he frowned, crossing his arms. “Who are you? Why are you here?”

The boy let out a soft laugh that sounded like bells. “And here I thought we had become good friends, Satoru-kun”

“It’s gojo-sama to you”the young boy huffed, puffing out his chest. “Now, who are you?”

The cursed energy glowed around him bright enough to shine light on the strange boy. He had long black hair and amber eyes, a kimono made of silk that glittered under the light and sparkled like stardust. He also appeared to be around Satoru’s age but had a strange aura about him.

“I am the moon,”the boy said evenly. 

“You’re the…moon?”Satoru said slowly.

“Yes”the boy laughed, “your people call me Tsukuyomi no mikoto, but I think you may be too young to know that yet”

Satoru huffed. “I’m not a child”

“But you are”the boy smiled and…it didn’t sound malicious. It didn’t sound angry. It was confusing, it made him angry. The cursed energy within him boiled and his eyes glowed. To be shown impudence was to be disrespected. He was the bearer of six eyes and limitless, the heir to the gojo clan. He would not sit here and be disrespected.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?”he spat. “Coming to my estate to sit here and tell me lies! I could have you killed for this, do you know that? Are you aware of who I am? You should be bowing before me--”

“You are an angry one,”the boy interrupted with a slight chuckle. “But I have not deceived you, Satoru-kun. I am who I said I was”

“The moon?”Satoru scoffed.

“Yes I am,”the boy said, “the moon and a god, one in the same. I reign over the moon of this planet”

“I-”

“And I do know who you are, Satoru-kun”the boy continued, “the  night you were born caused quite the fuss”

Satoru’s headspun. “W-well if you’re a god, then why are you a child!”

The boy threw his head back and let out a full belly laugh. “Even gods are children once, Satoru”

Satoru stared at him.

“And my mother is human,”the boy amended.

“Aha!”he cried, pointing his finger accusingly. “So you’re only half a god!”

The boy tilted his head. “Why half? I’m fully god and fully human”

“I..I don’t know”Satoru said. He’d never thought of it like that before. “Well, before I just believe you’re a god you have to prove it!”

The boy nodded, “alright, if you wish”

The boy clenched his fist and slowly opened it to reveal a bright orb in its place. It glowed silver and rotated slowly in his palm.

“Is that…”

“A star?”the boy smiled, “it is.”

The boy really was a god. 

“I still don’t understand why you’re so small,”Satoru frowned, “if you’re half god, shouldn’t you be bigger?”

“I am bigger when i’m at home”the boy said, “but when i come to earth i take on my human form and walk as a mortal”

Satoru’s heart stopped beating for a second. “So…you could die as a human?” The boy nodded. “I’m assuming so”

Satoru didn’t like the sound of that. The thought of losing his only friend made his stomach hurt.

“Well, whenever you’re here i’ll watch you!”he declared, “I am the strongest after all”

“The strongest with no manners”the boy laughed. “You haven’t even asked my name”

Satoru’s cheeks turned pink and he frowned, punching the boy's shoulder. “I was getting to that!”

“Sure you were,”the boy teased, but he was still smiling.

“Well what is it”he grumbled.

“Geto Suguru”the boy said. Satoru’s eyes widened.

“You have a japanese name!?”

“That’s what surprises you?”Suguru said, rolling his eyes“I told you, my mom is human…and we’re speaking Japanese right now”

“It could have been a coincidence!” “Mhm”Suguru said, giving him a look, “it’s okay to be wrong sometimes”

“Nope”Satoru said, shaking his head, “Not me, i’m never wrong”

“Right”Suguru smiled, “Oh great Gojo-sama is never wrong”

Satoru frowned and punched his shoulder again.

“Ow”

“Don’t call me that”Satoru grumbled.

“What? gojo-sama?”Suguru teased and successfully dodged the next punch thrown his way.

“Quit it!”Satoru groaned, “We..we’re friends, you don’t have to call me that okay? It’s weird”

“I was just teasing,”Suguru amended, patting the white haired boy’s shoulder. “I won’t call you that anymore”

“Good,”Satoru said, quickly returning to his cheeky smile. “As long as I can call you Suguru-kun”

Suguru-kun. The dark-haired boy smiled and nodded. “Yes, yes you can”

Satoru’s grin broadened. “Well Suguru-kun, have you ever played digimon?”